Shiv wasn’t amused. “Yes, Archmage, and I for one am tired of it.”

“What is the use of power if it’s never brought to bear?” Usara was barely less confrontational than Shiv.

“Dear me, you’re allying yourself with Kalion and his ideas.” Planir’s voice grew a little cold. “I had no notion.”

“Forgive me, but that’s not true and you know it.” Usara swallowed his indignation with difficulty.

“Kalion wants to be fed and feted by the rich and powerful and have them hanging on his every word, doing only as he tells them,” said Shiv with contempt. “We just want to save lives in imminent danger of being lost!”

“It’s pirates, Shiv,” Planir said patiently. “They’re a running sore on Tormalin’s ocean flank and, yes, they could prove a serious problem for D’Alsennin. But they’re nothing new. The oceanward Sieurs have scourged the coast clean of wreckers and raiders for generations. This is no sudden catastrophe that needs the Archmage to save Tadriol’s neck. Hadrumal’s action without justification will just stir up every old prejudice against magic and doom-laden ballads of wizardly arrogance will do the rounds of every tavern from Inglis to the Cape of Winds.”

“What do we do to counter that ignorance?” challenged Shiv. “It’s all very well saying we don’t get involved with the mainland, not unless it’s a matter of life and death and some ruler comes begging on his knees but what does that get us in the long term?”

Usara spoke with rather more moderation. “If the commonalty only ever see magic as a scarce resource for the powerful, they’re bound to resent it.”

“Mages work everyday sorcery clear across the Old Empire.” Planir sounded indifferent. “Apprentices go back to their homes with the turn of every season.”

“But they don’t go back to spread any knowledge of magic,” countered Usara. “Most just tire of our isolation here or find a life of study holds little appeal once they’ve learned sufficient control of their affinity not to be a danger to themselves and others.”

“It’s fear that brings them here in the first place,” Shiv nodded. “Or has them sent, thanks to age-old bias. How many who leave here ever work anything more than cantrips to ease their way through life or impress the gullible?”

“Wouldn’t you rather mageborn sons and daughters were sent to Hadrumal eager to learn useful skills?” pleaded Usara. “Knowing they’d be welcomed back home and valued for what they can do?”

“I don’t recall hearing of mages starving by the wayside.” Planir plucked another sprig of camomile. “Even the least of wizards can earn their bread with their magic”

“If their hide’s thick enough to put up with snide remarks like all I heard in Ensaimin last year,” Usara said with exasperation.

“And jibes from the Rationalists,” snapped Shiv. “I don’t know what’s worse. Ensaimin, Caladhria and the rest with their credulous dread of tales from the Chaos where every wizard’s a threat, or the so-called forward-thinking Rationalists who say magic’s as much an irrelevance as outmoded piety in their search for quantifiable explanations of the world’s workings.”

Planir smiled at Shiv’s indignation. “The most blinkered natural philosopher or wooden-headed Rationalist cannot deny the reality of elemental fire singeing his toes.” He turned to Usara. “And the rediscovery of Artifice should put paid to their scorn for religion. How much old lore have you unearthed in the temples of Col and Relshaz?”

“More than I expected, but the greater part has been lost since the Chaos, thanks to ignorance and prejudice.” Usara looked steadily at Planir. “Are we going to see Hadrumal’s learning lost to worm and decay as well? Wizardry withering, disregarded?”

“Look at Aritane’s people in the Mountains,” Shiv invited with an outstretched hand. “Their Artificers, the Sheltya, they won’t act to stop the Mountain Men being driven from their land, their forests, their mines—and they lose respect with every step and with every generation.”

“As I understand Aritane’s explanations, the Sheltya hold back because aetheric powers were gravely abused in the past, by those clans who were driven into the ocean and became the Elietimm. You’ve seen the tyranny of Artifice in the Ice Islands at first hand.” Planir’s grey eyes were bright with challenge. “When the Elietimm offered help and the Mountain Men seized their chance, brutal Elietimm Artifice brought them to the brink of warfare with the lowland cities and further discredited the innocent Sheltya.”

“There has to be a middle path between disuse and abuse,” insisted Shiv. “Look at Kellarin. Before the Chaos, aetheric magic was an everyday part of life. The colonists don’t fear magic of whatever hue or nature.”

“Aren’t we rather getting off the point?” Planir stood up. “What has this to do with pirates?”

The two mages hesitated.

“Our help in Vithrancel would show Tormalin merchants wizards helping everyone, not just the rich and powerful,” said Shiv slowly. “And Dalasorian traders, whoever takes word home.”

“I believe Guinalle and Allin work together as much as they are able.” Usara looked hopeful. “Seeing how their skills complement each other could be valuable to Hadrumal.”

“That’s something to lay before the Council.” The Arch-mage’s face was inscrutable. “What if you fail?”

Shiv and Usara looked uncertainly at him.

“When you’re worn to exhaustion by trivial demands after a season or so in Kellarin?” Planir waved an airy hand. “I can’t see even the most bored apprentices joining you to spend all their time mending broken pots. What will there be to interest our more skilled mages? Will we see the rarified magic of Hadrumal’s masters cosseting sick beasts or digging out a mine collapse thanks to some fool thinking magic should save him the cost of shoring timber? What if some catastrophe does befall Kellarin and you prove unequal to the task? On the other side of the coin, what if you do drive off some disaster and everyone assumes you’ll be saving them from every peril from a cut finger up for ever more? Perhaps it’s not fear of failure that checks the Sheltya, but fear of the consequences of success.”

Planir pointed a questioning finger at Usara before turning it on Shiv. “How exactly do you plan to rid the islands of these pirates? How do you plan to reach Suthyfer? You’ve neither of you been there, so you’ll need a ship. Where will you find that? The power to guide wind and wave is all very well but you’ll still need hands to reef sails and pull on ropes or whatever it is that sailors do. They won’t be doing it for the love of Naldeth or in hopes of a better future for wizardry. Have you got enough gold to hire them?”

“We’ll find some from somewhere,” said Shiv crossly. “We want to help rescue Naldeth, Parrail and any other poor bastard who manages to stay alive. Do we have your permission to go?”

Planir studied one well-manicured fingernail. “No.”

Usara looked at him closely. “You’re forbidding us?”

“Oh, no.” Planir glanced up. “As Archmage I’m duty bound to curb dangerous ambition but I trust you, both of you.”

“So we can go?” Shiv asked with a touch of confusion.

“That’s entirely up to you.” Planir smiled. “As I said, anyone can take passage to Kellarin, at their own risk, naturally.”

Planir rose and the two mages moved apart as the Archmage walked away. “Lock the gate behind you.” He disappeared between the tall houses.

“So we’re going?” Shiv looked at Usara.

“He didn’t say we couldn’t.” The sandy-haired wizard scratched at his beard.

Shiv took a deep breath. “Right then. Where do we find a ship?”

“Zyoutessela?” suggested Usara. He looked doubtful. “Have you spent much time hanging round docks?”

“Let’s deal with one problem at a time.” Shiv looked rueful as they left the garden. “I’ve got to tell Pered before we do anything else.”