"Of course." Nuitari frowned, tiring of the subject. Solinari did love to go on. "Why don't we seal it off and be done with it?"

"What happens to mortals when you tell them something is unattainable?" asked Lunitari. "They only want it the more. Besides," she added, "the citadel represents magical perfection. It is perfection. We'd be telling them to no longer strive for excellence in the Art. I certainly don't want that for my followers."

"Well," sniffed Nuitari, "I'm not going to stand here at the gate forever to keep them out."

"No one was suggesting that," said Solinari with infinite patience. "These mortal mages must not come to depend too much on our help. Dependence breeds laziness. The next thing you know, they'll expect us to fight their battles for them." His companions could think of nothing more tedious.

"We gave them all the knowledge they needed more than three millennia ago before we banned them from the citadel," said Solinari. "Have they lost it? More important, have they lost their fear of our wrath?" Stroking his chin, he said, "Perhaps a test is in order."

"I have it," Nuitari said. "Isn't your man Par-Salian their leader?" Solinari nodded. "Let him know we're displeased and that they must appease us. It's always worked before."

"If you want cattle slaughtered for sacrifice," Lunitari said caustically. The dark young man gave her a hateful stare.

"We need a greater demonstration of their loyalty than the usual supplication," announced the white-haired man. "Let them prove their fear and obedience to our rules. We will tell them to build their own bastion against further attempts to gain entrance here." He glanced once more through the gold gate at the mortals on the murky planet below. "They must learn to police themselves or suffer the consequences."