The Headmaster Meeting

Callas walked into the room, Galvin and Gavião flanking and a half-step behind her. This room in the Belfast Epona temple was paneled in warm wood and, for tonight, furnished with a large table and fourteen chairs. Callas had argued for twenty, but there hadn't been a table large enough, and traditionally the Knight Protectors did stand at parade rest behind their Headmasters during formal meetings, so she'd lost that minor battle. Callas herself was wearing the deep black dress she'd managed to dig up in the Epona temple from some Headmistress who had been about the same size as her--black silk unrelieved by decoration except for some silver embroidery at the hem and the sleeves, with a split skirt meant to enable riding with it on. Her hair was pulled back tightly and bound in a knot at the base of her neck. There were places on her hands and neck where pink new skin betrayed the burns she'd gotten earlier that day. Galvin was in a dark blue doublet, and Gavião in his formal armor.

Callas paused at the two empty chairs at the head of the table, nodded to the room, and seated herself. She said, "For those who have not met me, I am Callas de Navarre, my Second is Galvin Dubois, and my Knight Protector is Sir Gavião Nobre. I've called you all here today in order to give you a briefing of what's going on, let you all meet me and the several other new people in the upper ranks of the Temple, and let you all ask questions as you like. I'm going to start by introducing our newest members, and then I'll give you an outline of what's going on."

She nodded at Marcus, who was the only person without a paladin standing behind him. "This is Marcus Argayne, the new Head Druid. Next to him is his Second, who I will let him introduce in a moment. And most of you have probably met Elata Hall, since it is her hospitality we're currently impinging on." The delicate-looking elf smiled briefly at her. "Her knight protector is Sir Sigurd Torson, and since she has not yet declared a Second, as far as I know...?" Elata shook her head. "Then the chair next to her will remain vacant for this meeting. Elata's Second was killed recently, and though we recovered her body, we were unable to resurrect her. I know many of you already know of Sir Sigurd by reputation, at least, and of Elata let me say that it is through her creative tactics that we have held Ireland. Marcus, as most of you are aware, was the Hierophant Druid of Sucellus, and I've appointed him to be the voice of the clerics who came to us from that Order."

Her eyes swept the room. "For those who are new, I'll give you a quick introduction of who's who. To my left, from Spain, Headmistress Maria Covas, Second Gloria Corinth, and Knight Protector Barille Dasis." These three were the most familiar to her, since the group had been using Madrid as a home base since the Solstice, as most of the Headmaster of the Order had done before her. Maria was a long-nosed woman who always put Callas in mind of a bird of prey, and her prejudices against non-humans were many and legendary. Gloria was a plump blonde with a generous smile who was also the current Stablemaster for Madrid. She had been Maria's Second for years and handled her Headmistress with a sure hand. Callas would be much more worried about Maria if Gloria weren't there to curb her excesses. Barille was a knight of classical Spanish looks--black hair, golden brown skin, strong features--that were marred by the long puckered scar that ran down the side of his face and neck, courtesy of a poisoned drow blade a number of years ago. Callas took pains to keep him and Aiden apart.

"To the left of them, from France, Headmaster Nyot Al-Iskadar, Second Jeanne D'Aquitaine, and Knight Protector Orleandi Marquesa." Callas had met these three before as a trainee, but she doubted that they remembered meeting her--or if they did, they probably remembered her as a troublemaker. Nyot was a small but intensely graceful man who hailed originally from Morocco. His black moustache twitched a little as he looked around the table with bright eyes, seeming to take everyone's measure. Jeanne, next to him, was a woman who would have no problem blending into any crowd. She was not so much plain as intensely ordinary-looking, resting her chin on her hands, fingers woven together. Orelandi was the only elven Epona paladin that Callas ever recalled seeing, much less meeting. He was slight of build but tall, without even the faintest trace of gawkiness. He regarded Callas steadily, on occasion transferring his gaze to Gavião behind her.

"From Russia, Headmaster Peter Zhukov, Second Andreja Rublev, and Knight Protector Marisel Aliseria." These were perhaps the most physically striking trio at the table. Peter was a hulking man, six and a half feet tall and muscled like an ox, mouth hidden in a thick brown beard. He sat with his arms crossed, seemingly perfectly at ease in the formal situation. Callas looked in his face for evidence that he was actually of Jonas Shorl's line, but the beard made it difficult to see it. Beside him, Andreja was as bright and deadly-looking as a rapier. White hair cascaded loose over her shoulders, her unlined and seemingly ageless face regal and distant, pale blue eyes seeming to be nearly colorless in the light. Behind them, Marisel stood, her short blonde hair and hooded eyes betraying nothing about her thoughts.

"You've been introduced to Elata and Sir Sigurd, and Marcus." Elata, Callas was nearly certain, was sitting on something to make her look a little taller. Callas saw Sir Sigurd glance down at the tiny elven Headmistress' fair head, and smiled to herself as his look betrayed something he probably meant to keep private. It's good he's attached to her. We fight harder to keep alive those we love. Marcus, his black hair going grey at the temples, looked around, his green eyes seeing much but keeping their own counsel. Callas wondered what he thought of this gathering and these people.

"From Germany, we have Headmaster Tol Ludendorff, Second Jatar Haig, and Knight Protector Jal Hjalmar." Tol was a sharply intelligent elderly man, his steel-grey hair reminding her of Dream's. Jatar was probably Gavião's age, with lines on his face that spoke of more joy than sorrow in his life. He leaned back in his chair, a lazy smile on his face, and Callas couldn't help but think that perhaps he wasn't taking this quite as seriously as everyone else. Jal, on the other hand, reminded her immediately of her father at his most stern. Cliff faces had more emotion than he showed.

She paused and took a breath, attempting not to betray the nervousness she felt. What was I thinking? she wondered, and then remembered that if these people didn't know what was going on, they couldn't react properly to events, and that alone might kill them all. She felt Galvin take her hand under the table. All right. Time to tell them how it lies and face the music.

"Some of you have more of this information than others, but I'm going to go through all of it so I know that everyone knows everything. I'm going to start at the point that Gavião and I ran into former Headmistress Ulan and her Second Nara. Gavião killed Ulan in battle, and when we questioned Nara we discovered that the pair of them had been actively betraying the Order of Epona for years. Epona gave me a direct order to execute Nara, and as a result of that, I was named Headmistress. I named Galvin as Second a few days after that. I and my companions--some of you have met them--have been working for the past three months to uncover plots that threaten to completely change the face of the world as we know it. Headmasters, Seconds, Knights--we are at war. And the war is not the Order of Epona against the Order of Morrigan, as some of you may have presumed. It is a council full of people who wish to replace the gods and control all of the magic in the world against every single one of us, whether cleric or knight, king or peasant. Morrigan is working with them, I believe in hopes of surviving the coming days, but as far as I know she is the only god who is.

"It is difficult to know where to begin with this, as the plots are intricate and many-layered. The first clear danger is the Black Death, which some of you have been seeing in your cities. This is no natural plague. It is designed to kill anyone with even the slightest whiff of magic about them, even the potential for magic, as well as killing a large percentage of those who die in every plague--the very young and the very old, and the otherwise infirm. Endraya, who is not here tonight but most of you know as our plague researcher, is working on a cure for the humans. Each race needs a cure created especially for them, and we are out of time, good gentles. We may not even get the human cure before spring arrives, and with spring will come death for tens of thousands of people. There are ordinary measures we can take to cut the number of people who are infected, but it may come to extreme measures if any of us are to survive the next few years.

"The second clear danger that most of you know about is that this council is killing gods. We have lost three so far: Sucellus, Airmid, and Cernannos. We prevented them from killing Belanus. They have orbs that absorb all the magic in the vicinity, causing any spells and divine powers not to function, and without their powers the gods, though hard to kill, are indeed vulnerable to death. The only way to destroy these orbs is to use legendary artifacts to do so, which destroys both artifact and orb. We have been working on destroying all the orbs we can find, but it's slow work. Our main problem is that such legendary artifacts are nearly always hidden or difficult to get to. If anyone has any ideas on how to speed that up, it would be appreciated."

Callas took a sip of water from the goblet in front of her, wetting her throat. She had much to get through, and little enough time to do it in. "This council is killing gods because they believe that our gods are old and corrupt, and wish to replace them with themselves. Unfortunately, having met many of them, I will say for certain that almost all of them are people I would go to hell before ever raising a prayer to. Each of them is dark and twisted in their own way, some of them by nature and others by circumstance.

"One of the more important members of this council was named Morgan le Fay. Her son, Modred, was also known as King Louis of France." Narrowed eyes from around the table, Nyot nodding as if something he'd long suspected had been confirmed. "When it became apparent that the Order of Epona was going to be trouble for them, they elected to attempt to distract us by starting a war with us, driving a force of orcs and white dragons down through Andorra and towards Madrid. We stopped them, fortunately without many casualties, due to the intervention of a white dragon named Aru. He was an Epona Headmaster, for the now-abandoned Temple in Andorra, about three centuries ago. He joined the council when his wife was murdered, as he thought that she had been killed by Epona clerics, and it drove him mad. Had we not had his help, I truly doubt that Madrid would be standing today. The other factor in Madrid not falling to the opposing army is sitting directly across from me. Marcus and his people were instrumental in slowing down the orc army and giving us a precious few days to prepare, as well as accounting for nearly ten thousand dead among the orcs. I myself owe Marcus a great debt, as when Second Galvin was captured a few days ago, he risked life and limb to rescue him from the great blue dragon who was holding him prisoner." Her eyes met Marcus' as she said this last.

"Sir Gavião met Modred in single combat yesterday in Touton, France. King Louis of France is no more, good gentles. We scattered his ashes ourselves. Today, we battled Morgan le Fay, his mother, and she too is dead--and not resurrectable. She was the only person in the world with the ability to connect new people to the god powers they are stealing when they kill the gods, which means that though they still may destroy the world, they cannot recruit any more people to their cause. And, better yet, as far as I know King Louis has no clear successor, which means that it's likely we can begin to operate openly in France once more. Nyot, that's clearly in your area of responsibility. If we can reband in France, we should. The Temple in Provence can be reopened, if it has not been destroyed.

"Backtracking a little, we have the situation here in Ireland. Former Headmistress Brenna MacCariad began open war with the Temple of Morrigan here, and captured their archives. Morrigan, of course, reacted by sending a large contingent of clerics here to do battle with us and recapture or destroy the archives. When I got here, it was discovered by Gavião that Brenna's Second, Niall, was actually the Morrigan Headmaster, and was slowly destroying the Temple here from the inside. This is why you were all ordered to find and kill all of the Morrigan spies in your Temples that you could. I demoted Brenna to Second because she had proved to be temperamentally ill-suited to the position, promoted Elata in her place, and gave her full latitude in her decisions. The largest remaining contingent of Knights Templar left arrived here, let by Sir Corison, who many of you knew." Nods from around the table; even those who had disliked Corison respected him.

"Sir Corison and Second Brenna were killed, murdered most foully on the orders of a member of the council, a red dragon named Dushela. Dushela is also the mastermind behind the plague. She has much to answer for, and I, at least, intend to be sure that she does some day soon." Callas could see Peter's face darken with anger. The bear-like man looked like he wanted to tear something apart, and perhaps a red dragon would do. She hadn't realized that he and Corison had known each other. Callas glanced at the blonde knight behind him, and was struck by the haunted look in her eyes. Callas wondered if she and Corison had been friends, or perhaps something more.

She took another breath, and kept on. "After Sir Corison and Brenna's murders, Elata came up with a strategy that has worked brilliantly--doing warfare not by openly going to battle, but by killing them one by one. I'll let her elaborate, if you all like, but I am personally well pleased with her handling of the situation here. Being hidebound will kill us, gentles. And the thing that Dushela did to kill Corison and Brenna will no longer work, even though Dushela still lives. We have pulled two of her claws, so to speak, and though she is still dangerous, at least she can no longer kill us in our sleep without a word."

She gripped Galvin's hand under the table tightly, but showed no other sign of nervousness. "I know what is said about me, Headmasters. I realize I am young, and untried in battle, and in large part unqualified for the position I have been given. I know that most of our Headmasters are great healers and are in every way the best of what the Order has to offer, and I am not. But what I am is a seer. I can go where others cannot, see things that would otherwise be inaccessible. I, and possibly my sister who has recently been restored to me, are possibly the two people in the world who are not on the council but can see much of their strategy, anticipate their movements and prevent what we can of the damage they do.

"And at the moment, this is what we know of the current situation. King Louis and Morgan are dead, and the throne of France is vacant. In Ireland, the battles continue. They've lost more than we have, but our casualties here have not been insignificant.

"Cernannos is dead, and many of his former worshippers have joined Morrigan, but it seems a few of them, at least, have discovered that perhaps their god is not quite as dead as all that. Airmid is dead, and all of his clerics and paladins who would convert have joined Morrigan. Sucellus is dead, and we are making room for those who chose to convert in our Order." Callas inclined her head towards Marcus. "We have allied in the past with the Mediterranean tribe of gold dragons, but if we need their help again, we will have to negotiate with them anew. We are allied with an army of werecreatures, with the werewolf Jaenus as their general. And as of today, Sir Gavião has the sworn loyalty of the Northern European white dragon tribe, for use as either fighters or as partners for dragon riders. Why he has that is a long story, and one that I don't have the time to tell tonight, but let us just say that it is one last favor from a person whom the dark claimed for a time but who was brought back into the light--and whose death even the gods themselves grieve. As well as me." She indicated her mourning attire with a hand. "He is half of the reason I am wearing mourning, gentles."

Callas glanced around the room and said, slowly, "For the moment, it is impossible to tell where the next threat will come from. We must remain vigilant. Even something small may betray what they are doing next.

"This is what we know about our enemies on the council. Dushela, as I've mentioned, is a red dragon and a powerful mage. She is the architect of the plague as well as the person the council puts on hard magical puzzles. She very nearly managed to get into her hands an artifact that could have literally have ended the world. That artifact is now safely...destroyed." Her voice had hitch in it as she said that last word, reflecting a private and intense grief. "Lazlo is a green dragon and dream wraith, a denizen of the dream realm who has incarnated on this plane. Lazlo is ancient, a legend among dream wraiths, who created the creatures we know as nightmares and was consequently cast out of the dream wraiths. He poses a danger to us all but more specifically to me, as it is in dreams that I do much of my seeing. He wishes to become a god so he can wrap the world in a living nightmare. Tarn is a black dragon who we have met twice in battle, and from our last report has gone insane. It is difficult to tell how much a threat he will be or what he will do. Tennant is a drow who has killed more gods than the rest combined--but he seems to be working the balance the scales.

"The rest, we are not so familiar with. We have met Juri, who is a Fae'ri, and Lady Iona, who is a desert dragon. We do not know much about either of them. And the last that we know of and have not yet met is named Sorcha. We do not know who or what she is, but we do know is that she was the legendary wizard Merlin's teacher, and she was old and powerful even then, eight centuries ago. We know that there are probably three more out there who we have not the faintest idea of their identities or what they are planning. I am sure that in a few days we will know more of that their next move is, but for the moment we seem to have cleared many of the most pressing dangers away, except for the plague--and I am not sure there is anything we can do to stop the plague, now.

"On our side, we have the Order of Epona, and an informal alliance with the Order of Aine. We have Sir Gavião's white dragon tribe, and their leader, Dame Maxine. There are my companions, who you may or may not have met, including Sir Gavião and Second Galvin. There is Prince Arnjolt Hammerhandson, a member of the dwarven royal line, and Aiden, a drow who is the last known survivor of Atlantis. Prince Riyor of Cartmage is the elf who some of you had the, ah, fortune to meet this afternoon. I apologize about your coat, Andreja, speaking of. Gaius Valerius is our Roman Ceriwiden monk, and Tamsin the Silver is the sorceress with the little dragon some of you may have noticed. I'm not sure any of you have met Seraphim; you'd know if you'd seen him, he's the tall lean fellow with the scarred hands. He's just been restored to life recently, but he was a cleric of our goddess three millennia ago, and I'm expecting that he'll rejoin the Order once he's gotten adjusted to being alive again. I'll introduce you all to him tonight, and see what you think. He may well make a good regional Headmaster, perhaps re-establishing the Andorra temple, or else we may want to think about expanding south, perhaps establishing a temple in Cairo. We have a powerful but slightly insane psion named Teryl who seems to be quite attached to Arnjolt. There is a former Cernannos Headmistress who appears, for the moment, to be on our side. The mercenary Strawberries occasionally travels with us, and we can occasionally talk the Queen of the dwarves into lending us troops. And those, gentles, are the resources we have outside the Order."

She took another sip of water to soothe her parched mouth. She was coming to the hardest part of the information she needed to impart. "And this brings me to the last piece that I wanted to address, gentles." She paused, looking around, searching for the correct phrasing. "In the last week, I have seen my Second kidnapped, killed, and brought back to life. My father has died, and my friend Aru has died. Today, I as well as a number of my companions died in the battle with Morgan le Fay, and two of those are still corpses tonight, waiting for the morrow. My sister Gemma has been returned to me--but she was a prisoner of Morgan le Fay for fifteen years and will need intensive healing before she can walk or even ride comfortably. She has much to teach me before we can confront Lazlo, however we choose to do that. We are likely to spend the next few weeks nearly exclusively on the road, where I will be out of touch with the Order.

"I cannot be the Headmistress that the Order needs right now. As of the adjournment of this meeting, I will officially on sabbatical for a month, from the seventh of January to the seventh of February. Second Galvin will take my place, but since much of his current duty is as a bodyguard for me, he will be handing most of the day-to-day duties of the Headmaster of the Order to the Irish Headmistress, Elata, and the Russian Headmaster, Peter."

There were murmurs from the crowd, and Maria suddenly burst out, "But she's an elf. And a child--"

"Maria." Callas' voice was suddenly cold, lashing out at the long-nosed Spanish Headmistress. "You are out of order, Headmistress. I have just about lost patience with you. You are a good Headmistress but you are by no means irreplaceable. And as for Elata being a child..." Callas' mouth quirked into a half-smile. "Look into her eyes, Maria. Her looks are deceiving."

Maria glared at Callas, the two staring at each other for a long moment before Maria turned away to look at Elata. The diminutive elf cocked her head, and looked into Maria's brown eyes with her deep blue ones.

Whatever Maria saw there, it was enough to make her gasp a little, and choke as she turned away. She muttered an apology, and Callas considered giving her more of a dressing-down but decided to wait until later.

"My sabbatical is effective when we adjourn. Until that moment, I am still Headmistress. So, Headmasters...I'm sure you have questions. Please, ask away. I will answer as I can."

There was silence, and then murmurs as the Headmasters and Seconds conferred with each other and their knights. Finally, Peter asked, "There has been little activity in Russia that we can see. This winter has been particularly cold, which may be stopping them from incursions. Is there something we should be doing to prepare, or continue as usual?"

Callas nodded. "Excellent question. You have Endraya at your Temple for precisely that reason; right now, she's one of the most important people in the world to us. For the moment, all of your efforts should go towards keeping her safe. We may need your strength elsewhere, especially when the cold breaks in the rest of Europe, but for the moment, keep doing what you're doing. And kill all the rats that you can find." She looked around the table. "That goes for the rest of you. Spread the word; no rat should be allowed to live if we can help it. As much as we know they're a part of the natural cycle, they carry the plague with them. Even the smallest child can learn to use a sling well enough to kill rats, and dogs and cats are our natural allies in this. If any of you have ideas for anti-vermin spells, do let me know. The rats are still contagious after they're dead, so burn the corpses."

Nyot sat forward on his chair, asking, "The Provence Epona temple, in Marseille, was overrun by Morrigan Clerics, they have rededicated the temple to Morrigan. Do you wish us to retake it or build another? If we build another, where would you like it?"

She frowned. "What is their strength like at Provence? How many clerics?"

Jeanne, Nyot's Second, answered her. "About four hundred clerics, probably three hundred paladins, and about a hundred trainees."

"And what remains of the French Epona Temple?"

Jeanne shook her head. "Only those who Nyot and I thought would survive the current situation remained in France. The rest were sent away by Ulan. We have perhaps a hundred people scattered around the country, all clerics."

Callas considered this. "Then my answer to you is this: scout the situation. Gavião will know what sort of forces we can spare in a week or so, and that will give you time enough to gather all of your clerics up from around the country. My guess is that Temple is at something less than full strength at the moment, given that we know that Morrigan's been importing her forces to Ireland. If we can hit them hard out of the blue with enough forces to retake the Temple in a single battle, it would be worth it; otherwise, give up that Temple for lost for the moment, and build another. If we survive this war, there will be then time to retake territory lost. As for where...I honestly would prefer somewhere in the north of France, to even out our geographic distribution. My personal recommendation is Chartres, though Orleans or Le Mans might do just as well. If none of those prove hospitable, there is a town in the south of France called Touton that has just had the entirety of the village slaughtered by the council. It may well be fitting for us to rebuild there."

The others at the table conferred amongst themselves, and Callas took the opportunity to glance over her shoulder at Gavião, who nodded at her. She murmured to him, "We can probably negotiate with Armand to borrow his tribe again, but rebuilding may be less costly."

Galvin added, "I've only been to Chartres once, but it was, as far as I remember, a prosperous trading hub. The land around it is fertile, and there are three rivers near it. It would be a good place for a new Temple." She nodded and turned her attention back to the table.

Elata spoke up. When she spoke, it was nearly impossible to mistake her for the child she seemed to be; out of that small mouth poured a voice as rich as honey. "Speaking of battles and how many people we can spare, how far do you want me to pursue the Morrigan clerics? We have killed hundreds of them, do you wish to start this tactic on a grand scale all across Europe? If not, should I scale back the attacks here and protect what we have gained or go for all of Ireland and then to Europe?"

"How long will it take you to secure Ireland?"

"Barring setbacks, with our current strength? We've accomplished what we have in less than a week. Another week and a half, perhaps two, we could have them weakened to the point of collapse. Less, if we have more resources we can use."

Callas smiled at Elata. "By all means, then. Let us drive the crows out of Ireland. They may well be having trouble in their upper ranks; this would be a good time to cut some of the bottom out from beneath them. I believe we can spare you some forces, if you don't have a problem working with werefolk; I think we can spare at least part of Jaenus' army. Gavião will have to confirm that, of course. I believe you and Jaenus will get along well. Just watch out for her daughter, she's touchy. After Ireland, you'll need to consult with Gavião about where the need is most pressing; retaking Provence may be a good idea at that point, or the situation may have changed again."

Behind Elata, Sigurd caught her eye. "A great number of Spanish ships, English and others, have been washing up wrecked on the shores of Ireland. We have not had the time to pursue this matter, the battles with Morrigan and all. No real question here, we will investigate when we can but I thought you should know."

"Thank you, Sigurd. We may well wish to investigate before you get a chance. We'll let you know if we do. Anyone else?"

Sigurd's question seemed to have emboldened Barille, who she knew was often reluctant to speak up at meetings such as these. "Is Gavião the one we should still report to as well? Or is he on sabbatical too? If so, who is his second?"

"Sir Gavião is not going on sabbatical; he feels he can do his job as Commander from on the road. And it is still wartime, and all of us, even me, are subject to his orders. Gavião has not yet chosen a second, but expects to soon; you'll all know when he does, I expect." Barille nodded at her, looking relieved. She could imagine that it would be nervewracking to have several changes in command during such a short period of time.

It seemed to be the moment for each of the knights to ask their questions. Orelandi turned his attention to her, his face unreadable. "The elven race has stories of a Sorcha, who you mentioned. There is an even more disturbing rumor that she serves another. Does Sorcha lead this council or has that yet to be determined? Does this other exist?"

Callas blinked. "I haven't heard those stories you've mentioned. It's possible that she does serve another; who it might be, I have no idea. We've only heard her name for the first time today, and haven't had a chance to investigate. There are at least three unidentified council members, and the one Sorcha serves may be one of them. Or it may be no more than a story. The only things we know about Sorcha are her name, the fact that she is female, and that she is an immensely old and powerful wizard or sorcerer. Please, remind me to talk to you before we retire. I may need to go hunting in the dream realm tonight."

Marcus looked at Callas, his face calm. "The order of Sucellus, when it existed, had a group of individuals that were our spy network as well as an elite group of assassins, that we call the Priory. With your permission I would like to assemble those that chose to come to Epona and retrain some more. This, though, brings us down to their level in some respects. Is this something we should pursue?"

Callas was silent for a moment, thinking over the question. "You're right, Marcus. It's a sticky problem. You have my permission to reassemble the Priory, with the caveat that their function as spies overrides their function as assassins, but you know them best and know how they may best be used." She smiled wryly to herself. "While I would love to claim that we have the moral high ground, in many respects we don't. Each side uses the tools at its command. They have spied on us and tried to send assassins against us, but both sides can play that game." Looking around the table, she could see that was not a popular decision. Maria and Andreja looked the most unhappy, followed by all of the knights. Callas resisted the urge to look at Gavião to see what he thought. Surprisingly, she could detect no flicker of disapproval from Galvin, and he gave her hand a brief, reassuring squeeze. And both Tol and Nyot looked as if they openly approved.

As she glanced at Tol, he cleared his throat. "Merlin we have all heard of, I'm sure. Rumor states that he was released from his prison of centuries and was instrumental in the fall of Morgan. Which side does he fall on? Ours or theirs? What are the plans to do with him, if he is on our side?"

She nodded. "Good question. I and my companions, knowing the ancient enmity between Merlin and Morgan, released him from his prison so he could help us battle her. Now that he is awake and moving in the world once more, he claims he had a few loose ends to tie up. Merlin is, and has always been, on his own side. Our interests and his simply coincide for the moment. I don't have any plans for him, other than not truly expecting him to go into battle with us. He seems to enjoy working behind the scenes if he can. If you can think of something to keep him busy with, Tol, let us know. The one thing I do know from knowing my companions as I do is that a bored magic-user is a dangerous one--to anyone around them, not just enemies."

He replied, "I have some ideas, but they need to be more fully fleshed out. I'll talk them over with Sir Gavião and Galvin before I leave."

Silence fell over the table. Then, unexpectedly, Andreja spoke. Her voice was a clear, carrying soprano, and belying her reserved appearance, was quite obviously worried. "When winter breaks, our estimates are that the plague will kill millions. The temples will be overrun with people seeking our help, but there is only so much we can do to help the dying. I fear that that tactic is what they will exploit, we will exhaust our spells fighting a plague that can't be stopped and they will attack by night slaying all the clerics inside. As much as I hate to suggest this, do we need to hold some of our clerics in reserve for combat or do you wish us to do what we can for the masses and face the consequences as they come?"

Callas held Andreja's eyes, willing herself not to show exactly how much that exact question had been nagging her over the last two weeks. "We're going to have to, I'm afraid. We have a few weeks left. We need to find nonmagical ways to comfort the dying; even Heal spells only seem to provide comfort and stave off death for a few hours. None of us should be allowed to exhaust ourselves entirely; I know it is difficult, when you are surrounded by so much death, not to give every ounce of what you can. But we cannot afford to be caught unprepared, because the other side will attack when they know we are weakest.

"And there is another problem. When it becomes obvious that we can do nothing, I expect that the people we serve will blame us for what we cannot do to save their loved ones and themselves. We've all seen what happens when a village decides to take it into their head that their local cleric has gone evil and hexed the cows; it will be like that, only worse.

"And one last problem for you, Andreja. This plague is aimed at magic-users. This includes clerics. Not only will be we be unable to heal anyone, we will be dying, as well. At that point, they won't have to attack us. They'll just have to wait for us to fall over dead of our own accord. It is a grim future we face, gentles. And requires measures as desperate as the times." She took a breath, aware that what she was about to say might send the table into open revolt.

"We need to ensure the survival of the Order. We must offer a choice to every cleric. They can stay, help comfort the dying, and take the strong risk of dying themselves. Or...they can leave." She looked around the table, into every face in turn. "We will send out groups of ten to twenty people into the remotest areas they can find, at least one paladin and one druid in each group. These groups will stay wherever they go for two years, becoming almost entirely self-sufficient, and isolate themselves from the world, much like a monastic order. In two years, they will come back down to the populated regions, and do what they can to rebuild.

"I believe that most of the druids will choose to leave." She glanced at Marcus, who gave her a brief nod. "If every sixth cleric who was originally of Epona chooses exile, then we have a fighting chance to carry our traditions into the future. It makes no sense for us to win this war and still lose everything we cherish, gentles. We have to give our ways a fighting chance to make it into the new world.

"Those who stay...Andreja, you're correct. We can expect to be attacked, and possibly on a regular basis, when they know that we are exhausted. Every cleric should keep in reserve at least two of their best offensive or defensive spells with them at all times, not using them to heal with. Those clerics with extensive battle experience should keep more, and concentrate on the nonmagical ways of aiding the dying. It will be heartbreaking, keeping something in reserve. It's not particularly within our nature to do so. But it will be necessary. I'm also looking into the possibility of allying with other Temples that aren't necessarily healing Temples, but can provide some measure of protection for us. We do have the paladins, who may be one of our saving graces, since they're immune to the plague.

"It is not a good choice, gentles. Leave, and endure at least two years and possibly longer of isolation, hardship, and constant danger. Or stay and face nearly certain death, working until the last. And it is one that each one of us will need to make. Including each of us at this table."

Callas fell silent and took another sip of water. Headmasters and Seconds exchanged long looks, but none seemed willing to speak. The silence thickened and stretched, and she gripped Galvin's hand tightly, willing herself to show no other sign of either fear or impatience. If the others were going to openly defy her, this would be the time.

"So, Callas." Surprisingly, it was Jatar who broke the silence, still leaning back in his chair. Callas felt, as he eyed her, like a bird that a cat is trying to decide if it's worth pouncing on. "What will you do? Run and hide, or stay and die coughing your lungs out?"

She shrugged. "I will stay, should I be fortunate enough to live so long, Jatar. I'm likely to die in service, whether it's in battle or from the plague. Either way, I doubt that I have a very long future, which is why I'm putting these plans into place at the moment. My priorities are twofold: first, stop the council from becoming gods, and second, ensure as I can the safety of the people under my care while still letting them do their jobs. Which includes all of you."

Murmurs raced around the table. Callas looked around. "Anyone else?" She waited; no one spoke. "In that case, there is a cask of an excellent vintage in the reception room, if any of you would like to join us. We're adjourned, gentles." She turned to Galvin. "Headmaster Galvin? Will you lead us out?"

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