"I must finish an observation. Tell the Circle I will be with them shortly."
For a moment there was no reply. Then Gowen said, "I'll tell them, and Galen heard him walk away. He had to collect himself. He had to convince the Circle of his plan. And he had to tell Elric that the home he loved, the home that had once been a part of him, had been destroyed.
"I have sent Gowen to fetch him," Blaylock said.
Elric nodded, anxious that Galen had not reported to the Circle at the scheduled time. It was unlike him. Perhaps, in their meeting this morning, Elric had pushed him too far.
"Let us move on to the consideration of elections," Blaylock said.
"Elric, you wanted to speak in favor."
"Yes."
He straightened, trying to ignore the incessant throbbing that echoed through him. Its source was the cavity of darkness in his skull, an emptiness where once had resided the connection to his place of power, and to Soom. That emptiness pushed outward, a tumor of desolation, pressing at the backs of his eyes, his forehead. The pain worsened with each passing day, leaving him indisposed for hours at a time, unable to rise or even to move.
He concealed his weakness as much as he could, to retain his influence within the Circle and inspire confidence in the mages, but the signs were becoming ever more apparent. When he'd destroyed his place, with the great growth of chrysalis at its heart, he'd sensed that the loss would, eventually, kill him. That time was coming close.
His body was failing. He was thankful they no longer stood when making formal arguments. Blaylock, who had stood whenever he spoke before the Circle, had made no objection when Herazade suggested they make their meetings more informal. Elric knew that he, too, was weakened, though the signs of it were few. The character of their meetings had changed in other ways as well.
They now forwent the grand illusion of the amphitheater Ing-Radi had once generated. That illusion had simulated the ancient stone structure where Wierden and the original Circle had met, a reminder of their history and responsibility. Perhaps it was best they no longer used it. They had declined so, it no longer seemed appropriate.
They met at a simple round silver table, only three instead of the five Wierden had dictated, sitting in a half circle with Blaylock at their center. Herazade no longer wore a formal black robe, appearing instead in a sari, her straight black hair hanging free. They were losing their traditions, their discipline, their numbers, day by day.
Elric feared where this trend might lead them. He had not fought for anything in a long time. But now he must make this one, last fight.
"We are approaching our traditional time for elections," he said.
"Over the last hundred years, whenever there has been an opening in the Circle, we have always filled it in December, according to the Earth calendar. Wierden established that the number of the Circle should be five, the number of balance. Last year, at this time, we rightfully postponed elections. We had not settled into our new home sufficiently to undergo any changes. Now we are settled. We have had time. We must not delay further, or the basis of our order may be lost."
Elric did not believe he would survive another year, or even another month. Last night, as the pounding pain built with each beat of his heart to astonishing, staggering agony, he'd felt certain that he would die. His end would come soon. As for Blaylock, he was not sure.
Although Elric had never seen Blaylock's energy fail, he had grown gaunter than ever, his black skullcap loose on his head. His skin, scoured of all hair, had a pronounced waxy sheen. His hands had not healed well from the atrocity performed upon them by Tilar. They remained stiffly open, like two bookends on the table before him, the palms covered with thick, yellowish skin. He used them as little as possible. While he and Elric weakened, Herazade's influence grew, which tipped the Circle out of balance.
She clearly recognized her growing dominance and used it to advance her agenda. One person, though, could not rule the mages. That was too much power.
Blaylock's words were harsh and certain, as usual.
"I agree in principle. But in practice what you propose would only weaken the Circle. Of the mages, none are fit to join us. The wisest, the most skilled, have died either in the attempt to bring us here, or in the time since we arrived. While some of the younger mages show promise, they are not nearly ready to take a place at this table. If we opened the Circle to them, they would simply obstruct our wisdom."
"That argument," Elric said, "has probably been made by some member of the Circle before every election."
"In this case, however, it is true. Who would you have sit beside us? Miostro? Tzakizak? Circe? None is fit."
Blaylock was right; any that Elric would have considered for the Circle were either dead or well on their way. They were less than four hundred now, and nearly a third of those very ill. Yet Elric would rather have even a callow initiate like Fed in the Circle than let their power fall to two.
"They are all we have."
"I must agree with Blaylock," Herazade said.
"Among the older mages, I don't believe any has the skill, the wisdom, and the stamina necessary to fulfill the duties of the Circle. Among those younger, I see great promise that, with our guidance and a few years' maturity, should find its fulfillment."
What she did not realize, apparently, was that they did not have a few years to wait. Perhaps she felt she could govern alone until others were ready. Yet who, once holding supreme power, would share that power with others? Elric said the words he had not wanted to say.
"The power of the Circle cannot be allowed to fall to only two, or one."
Blaylock's sharp gaze turned toward him. But Herazade waved his comment away.
"That will not happen. We three have done well in leading the mages through a difficult time. I see no reason we cannot continue to do so."
Blaylock gave him a short nod. Blaylock understood.
"Elric is correct that the situation becomes dangerous when the Circle has less than three. But let us wait until that time comes before any election is held."
Elric gathered himself, exerted voice control.
"Many times have I been outvoted by this body, on issues of grave importance. Never, though, on an issue more important than this. Our behavior now will determine how the final chapter of the mages is written. Our order is losing its best, leaving those younger without guidance. In the absence of a clear purpose, some have deteriorated to the most petty, undisciplined behaviors. They know, as do we, that in coming here we abandoned our commitment to good. With one part of the Code lost, the others become simply a matter of personal choice. If we also allow the Circle to be discarded as an artifact of the past, the mages will have nothing to hold back chaos. I have not done all I have done..."
A sliver of pain pierced his eye and slipped directly into his brain. He forced himself to continue.
"I have not helped to lead the mages to this place so that they can turn upon one another. With two members, the Circle could easily be split asunder.
"If you will not agree to hold elections now, then let us make a private pact that if ever the Circle falls to two, elections will be undertaken immediately."
Blaylock's dark eyes were fixed on him.
"I will make such a pact."
Herazade's index finger rubbed back and forth on the tabletop, calculating. At last she spoke.
"I would dispute much of what you said about our current condition, Elric. My assessment is much more positive than yours. But your point about a Circle of only two is well taken. I concur with your proposal."
Elric bowed his head. He had accomplished that, at least.
"Galen has arrived," Blaylock said.
They agreed to hear his report, and the door opened to admit him. Elric knew that something was wrong the moment he saw Galen. Over the months, Galen had grown increasingly cold and distant, his face more unrevealing, his voice more perfectly controlled. This was not the vacancy he had shown when he was younger, as at his parents' deaths. It was a hard wall of determination behind which he would not let anyone pass, not Elric, most especially not himself.
This morning Elric had threatened that wall, and Galen had quickly retreated. Now, Elric could see, the wall was cracking, and Galen was struggling to hold it together. As he stopped before them, his face was carefully composed, his large blue eyes wary.
He wore gloves, which he never did, and as Elric studied Galen further, he realized that Galen had changed clothes from earlier in the day. The black sweater, pants, and coat were similar enough that Galen might hope no one would notice. He had injured himself seriously this time.
Elric had been ashamed that he'd needed to hear of Galen's practice from Blaylock. He'd been so preoccupied with the wages' problems that he hadn't known of it until Blaylock and Galen's return from the rim. By that point, Galen would not hear any advice Elric might give. There were many ways to deal with the difficulty of control. He need not hurt himself. Striking at himself, however, was Galen's instinctive response.
He punished himself, falling back, in his time of stress, to a feeling instilled in him when he was very young, a feeling that he deserved punishment.
"You have a report to make," Blaylock said.
Galen gave a single nod. Since his return from the rim, he had not bowed to the Circle, just as he had not worn the robe of a mage.
"I apologize for the delay. I have dire news. The Shadows have struck again."
His eyes flicked to Elric, and Elric knew, in that moment, what had happened.
"They have attacked Soom," Galen said.
Elric pressed the heel of his hand against his temple. It felt as if a great darkness would burst full-blown from his skull. Galen conjured an image above the table, a coastal lowland shrouded in dust. Through that haze, Elric saw only windswept dunes and lumps of rubble. It had once been the city of Tain.
Then other images, other cities laid waste. The town of Lok, a smoking ruin. Soom had been a planet imbued with life, a rare place of simple pleasures. He had taken precious joy in each creature, each blade of grass, each drop of water, each bit of rock. He had loved each, as a part of himself. Elric accessed the probe records himself, searched through the images from Soom faster and faster, finding destruction upon destruction: vast tracts of barren land, fissures blasted deep into the earth, great clouds of dust darkening the sky.
His precious home, his heart, ravaged; those under his protection, killed. For duty, he had abandoned them. And the Shadows had destroyed them. The pressure in his head was building into an irresistible, overwhelming pain. It spread through his body, the emptiness consuming him, driving out everything but despair. He fixed on Galen, struggling to hear the boy's words, to maintain his composure.
"After the bombardment, Elizar, Razeel, and the telepath Bunny Oliver landed near Lok. They sought out one of the Soom that Elric and I knew, a girl named Fa."
Various images accompanied Galen's description. There was Fa's wariness, Elizar's false solicitude. Galen's tone was flat.
"I had once foolishly shown Fa some of my spells, including the spell of destruction, before I knew its nature. Apparently when Bunny scanned me on Thenothk, she learned this. Bunny searched Fa's mind for the knowledge. She told Elizar what she found was incomplete, but that it might be enough.
"They knew that I was watching, through a ring I had given Fa. My father's ring. Once they had all the information they could get from her, Razeel."
Galen paused, his gaze falling and his mouth tightening in a way Elric recognized. He was doing a mind-focusing exercise, struggling to retain control.
"Razeel began to slowly kill Fa. After a time, I was able to access the systems in the ring."
He paused again.
Galen had finally opened that Pandora's box. Elric searched for any sign of change in him, but saw none. Still he hid from the truth.
"I delivered an electric shock to Fa, killing her."
A brief image flashed Fa's face, neck muscles seized in spasm, mouth gasping, eyes wide in agony. Quickly Galen replaced it with a view of mist-shrouded sky. Then the images vanished. Fa – she had been a sweet girl, innocent and affectionate, curious and adventurous. She had embodied everything good and special about her home. Now both were gone; Soom's fleeting, unique beauty was lost.
Galen bowed his head. He'd been forced to kill one of those few he'd allowed close to him.
"Soom might not have been attacked at all if not for my stupidity. Perhaps some other planet..." He raised his intense blue gaze to look at each of them in turn.
Elric realized that his hand was still pressed to his temple, and he lowered it, straightened.
"...I would like to request the Circle's permission to leave the hiding place, to pursue Elizar and Razeel and kill them, so the secret of destruction can again be contained. It is my fault they may now have it."
Blaylock frowned.
"Yet they may not. They may have suggested they did simply to lure you from hiding. Their true goal may be to obtain the spell directly from you, as they failed to do before."
Galen took a step forward.
"If they do have it, they could cause great destruction. As great," he said, "as I have."
Herazade raised a cautioning hand.
"The risks of sending someone outside are grave. We realize that you would never reveal our position willingly. You could, nevertheless, reveal it unwillingly. We must wait until we know for certain whether they have learned your spell."
"So I must wait?" – Galen bit out the words – "until they kill several hundred, or several thousand, or several million, and then you will let me go?"
He crossed his arms over his chest.
"I cannot live with that. I cannot have more deaths on my head."
"Even if we knew they had the spell," Blaylock said, "what good would it do to send you? How could you stop them?"