His hands went to his hood, and he pulled back the cowl, turning his face so all could see. "Now, again, here in this place during this historic battle, I have paid, with this horrible wounding, this scar, that shall mark me for the rest of my days. But I have paid in pursuit of an honorable goal. If the consensus spell soon to be cast by you, my fellow wizards, installs me at your head, know that I will sequester myself in this tower for years, for the rest of my life if necessary, to restore the dignity and strength of our orders. I shall rebuild, with my own hands if necessary, this tower. I will erase the physical scars of the sorcerer's reign, for those are scars on stone and foundation. Those are scars that can be healed!"

There was silence as the wizards absorbed the impact of Dalamar's stirring words, even as some shrank from his scarred countenance.

"But if the consensus should fall to me, instead," Jenna spoke, rising smoothly as Dalamar slowly took his seat, "know that I will send our agents, yourselves, into the world again-and I shall lead them. We will work to restore the Tower, of course-we must. But we will also see that the honor of our three orders is once more known, respected- and yes, feared-in the realms of man and elf and dwarf."

Her brief but impressive speech concluded, Jenna sat, and the consensus spell began. Coryn felt the choice probing at her mind, as she knew it probed all those gathered here. She made no conscious choice, but let her instincts guide her. Others sat quietly, undergoing the same process.

Finally a corona of light appeared around Jenna, outlining the Red Robe in a soft brilliance, like the trailing of a glorious sunset. She nodded her acceptance, and then stood and turned first to Dalamar, paying honor to him. The dark elf, though, glowered at them all from the depths of his black hood.

"You, my old… friend, please stay here and do the work you declared necessary. I beg this of you on behalf of all the orders. For though many of us will come and go into the world, one must stay here, keep the records and treasures, and supervise the efforts to restore this tower. Will you do so?"

"Aye," he said in a low mutter, after a time. As he said this, he grimaced-or perhaps smiled. It was hard to tell with that death's-head visage.

"And Coryn," Jenna continued her diplomacy, turning to the White Robe. "There is much you can do, my eager young friend, and much you have to learn. Studies and experiments in the Tower of Sorcery await you. But there will be time for that. The tower will always be here, when you return."

"Return?"

"I think there is a place you must go right away, is there not?"

The little hut was just as she remembered, though the grass had grown tall around it. The teleport spell had brought her just outside the small, familiar place, at the front door. She hesitated a moment, smelling the scent of the Icereach, listening to a vast flock of geese winging past overhead. Finally, she drew a breath and approached.

"Umma?" she asked softly, pushing open the door.

At first Coryn feared she had come too late. The old woman lay on her bed, still and pale, just as she had appeared during the Test. Only when the young enchantress sat beside her and took her frail hand, did Cory feel the flicker of a pulse. Her grandmother opened her eyes. She looked at Coryn carefully, her gaze lingering up and down on the beautiful white robe.

"You have made me very happy, and very proud, my child," Scharon whispered.

Then Coryn's grandmother smiled, closed her eyes, and drew her last breath.