“Then where is he?” Geoffrey Wylie asked, looking about pointedly. “If this is his scheme, where is the schemer?”

“If this is his triumph, then why isn't he here to enjoy it?” Ravenstock added, warming to the subject. “As council member or participant, he should be here.”

“Perhaps we should search the premises,” Linda suggested. “Perhaps the Council of Wizards would like to ask Dr. Leicester why he has recruited, tortured, and enslaved more than a dozen young wizards at the school he calls the Havens. Perhaps the council would like to know what Leicester and D'Orsay plan to do with that kind of power. Do you really believe he plans to use it against enchanters, warriors, sorcerers, and seers?”

The low buzz from the sidelines increased to a rumble. Seph stirred. “I'm going to tell them where Hastings is,” he said.

Jason gripped his arm. “Something's coming down. Let them show their hand, first.”

Bruce Hays returned and handed Gregory Leicester a rolled parchment. Leicester cleared his throat. “We'll address these issues in a moment. But before we hare off on a tangent, why don't we finish what we started? We have a new constitution to sign.”

“That doesn't make sense,” Jason said. “He can't be anxious to sign off on the new constitution.”

In answer, Seph looked up toward the gallery. Unnoticed by the rest of the conference participants, the alumni were lining up along the rail, looking down at them, everyone but Warren Barber, who lay immobile in the garden.

Leicester was speaking again. “We'll need one representative from each guild to sign it. You can decide among yourselves who will have that honor.” He paused. “We'll start with the Seers Guild.”

Blaise Highbourne and Aaron Bryan were seated together on one side of the table. Hays brought the parchment around to their side and put it before them. Bryan picked up the pen, but Blaise was reading it. He put his finger to the page, reread a passage.

Seph was watching his face, saw it change. Blaise looked up at Leicester. “This is not the document we voted on.”

Leicester shrugged. “The document is different than the ones we considered previously.” His voice hardened. “But you will all sign it, nevertheless.”

Jeremy Ravenstock stood. “We have already chosen a constitution,” he said coldly. “We are not signing any other.”

Leicester looked up at the alumni in the gallery, then back at Ravenstock. He extended his hand, and a bolt of blue flame erupted from his fingertips. For a moment, Ravenstock was a silhouette, spinning from the force of the blow, outlined in flames. And the next moment he lay, unmoving, on the floor, the stone scorched under him. A wisp of smoke spiraled upward, and the air was filled with the stench of burning flesh. There was a shocked silence.

“I only need one wizard,” said Leicester. “And I will sign. Everyone else is expendable. Our experiment in representative government has come to its conclusion.”

At a gesture from D'Orsay, every door into the hall slammed shut.

Several members of the council came to their feet. “What do you think you're doing?” Wylie demanded furiously.

“This.” Drawing on the strength of the alumni in the gallery, Leicester cast an immobilization charm that smashed down on everyone in the room, paralyzing them and pinning them to their seats. Save Claude D'Orsay and Adam Sedgwick and a woman Seph didn't know, who had thrown up shields prior to the launch of the charm. And Seph and Jason, who had retreated deep into the fireplace.

D'Orsay took his place next to Leicester. Sedgwick and the woman wizard joined them, smiling.

“Who's the woman next to Sedgwick?” Seph asked Jason.

“Nora Whitehead. Bad news,” Jason replied.

D'Orsay spoke. “Esteemed colleagues, members of the Council of Wizards, I would like to thank you all for attending this little gathering. It has made our task that much easier.”

He smiled. “Did you really think I would go to such lengths to appease the servant class?” He shook his head. "However, it was a perfect excuse to assemble the most powerful members of the Wizard Guild in one place.

“We wizards can no longer afford to debate endlessly and fight among ourselves. You see, we've grown weak over the years. Toothless. How else to explain this rebellion of the underguilds? It should have been put down immediately and ruthlessly. We believe it's time to unite under a new and simpler covenant with clear rules of succession.”

Leicester unrolled the parchment, flattened it against the walnut surface of the podium, cleared his throat, and began to read to his captive audience.

It was all there. Reinstatement of the guild hierarchy. Codification of the subservient status of what Leicester called the lesser guilds. Abolition of the Sanctuary. Implementation of a warrior-breeding program with eventual resumption of the tournaments.

However, under the new regime, the tournaments would be held for tradition's sake, for entertainment purposes only. Their role in allocating power would no longer be necessary. Gregory Leicester and Claude D'Orsay would be established guildmasters for life with control over the magical artifacts of both wizard houses and lineal descent to their male children. The alumni would form the core of a disciplinary force bound to Leicester and D'Orsay. They would adjudicate any wizard disputes and mete out discipline to other wizards as they saw fit.

When Leicester finished reading, he looked around the room. “Are there any questions?”

One of the council wizards spoke, an older man wearing a coat embroidered with red roses, someone Seph didn't know. “Yes. I have a question. Are you two out of your minds?”

D'Orsay nodded to Leicester, and Leicester incinerated the old man on the spot. There were no more questions.

“So,” Leicester said. “Let's proceed with the signing.” He returned his attention to the seers, Aaron Bryan and Blaise Highbourne. “Mr Bryan, is it? I see you have the pen in your hand. Mr. Hays?” Bruce Hays shoved the parchment in front of him.

Bryan dropped the pen on the table and shook his head stubbornly, looking around at the others at the table for support. Hays gripped his shoulder, pushed power through his hand. The soothsayer gasped with pain, the blood leaving his face. Hays leaned down and spoke softly into his ear. It only took a few minutes. The seer signed.

Leicester smiled. “That wasn't difficult, and it doesn't have to be painful. It's up to you.”

They moved on to the Sorcerers' Guild, and Hays focused his powers of persuasion on Kip McKenzie rather than Mercedes. Trinity had been a focus of rebellion for a long time. Leicester and D'Orsay apparently hoped the other representatives would be easier to intimidate.

Kip didn't hold out for much longer than Aaron Bryan. Anyone could see it was a hopeless cause. The illusion of power that they had all enjoyed so briefly was dissipating like the soft breath of the lake. It was just wizards, once again, making all the rules, pushing people around.

Hays carried the parchment to Akana Moon. But Leicester shook his head. He walked back along the table until he stood behind Linda Downey. He rested his hands lightly on her shoulders, as if formally taking possession.

“Perhaps Linda Downey would like the honor,” Leicester suggested, emphasizing the name. “Since she's played such an important role in today's proceedings.”

Linda stared straight ahead, her face a mask of indifference.

She'll die before she signs Leicester's document, Seph thought. He glanced around the room. All the doors were magically welded shut. There was no way to put their plan into motion.

“We've got to reach Madison,” he said to Jason.

“We can't walk through walls.”

Seth peered up into the chimney and shook his head. Not even Jason's slender body would fit through.

At the table, Akana Moon looked from Leicester to Linda. She pulled the parchment toward her. “I'll sign,” she said quickly. And did.

And then there was just Jack and Ellen, the two warriors, both of the Trinity faction.

“Who'll it be?” Hays asked, grinning. Ellen and Jack looked at each other, as if establishing a pact of resistance between them.

Hays looked from Jack to Ellen, debating. After a moment's indecision, he chose Ellen and put his hands on her shoulders. Power crackled into her. She went rigid, gasping a little, eyes wide, but saying nothing. He leaned down and whispered in her ear. Jack, watching, looked like he might jump out of his own skin, but Ellen stubbornly shook her head.

“Ellen,” Linda said tonelessly. “Please. There's no point. You might as well sign.”

Ellen shook her head, and Hays sent the flame in again. All the blood drained from Ellen's face. She bit her lip until it bled, still saying nothing. It seemed to go on forever, and then he released her, and her head drooped forward, sweat dripping from her face onto the table. Jack let out his breath in a long hiss.

Hays looked at Leicester, shrugging helplessly. “I'm afraid … if I do more, it might kill her.”

Leicester sighed. “You're handling it all wrong. Give the pen to the boy. Kill the girl if he won't sign.” Hays seemed intrigued by the idea, but didn't go very far with it, because Jack scribbled his name on the document and shoved it back to Hays. Ellen glared at him but he wouldn't meet her eyes. And it was done.

By now, Seph and Jason had walked the length of the hall, trying all the doors, just to be sure. All were secured. Leicester and D'Orsay meant to make sure no one slipped away from the party early. But when Seph looked up at the alumni in the gallery, he noticed that some of them were missing.

After the constitution was “approved,” there was a brief pause while Leicester looked it over and then signed it with a flourish on behalf of the wizards.

“Now, all that remains is to carry this new constitution to Raven's Ghyll and have it consecrated,” Leicester said. “But first we have a matter of discipline to attend to.”

Chapter Twenty-One