— Guardian Maia, Enclave —

The president pushed on to the next agenda item as soon as the door was closed behind Summaya. These meetings tended to devolve if he didn't force them to stay on track.

"Last item for today. We've received a message from Nexus. Maia, will you please?"

Maia took hold of the large item leaning against the wall behind her. It was rectangular, slightly curved, and nearly as tall as she was. It was so oddly light that it was no trouble to haul it before the curved table where the council sat.

The cloth covering the object was easily untied and fell away to reveal a tower shield of a startling scarlet color. It bore writing in softly luminous silver script. A lozenge of four stars of Olyon was at the top, followed by a preamble and a bulleted list of articles. They all knew the text because they had seen it before, printed on papers distributed by the Cartmen's Guild. In Nexus News, it had shared space with a drawing of the improbable monster Nexus had killed, an article about the defection of Enclave healers, screeds against Enclave's neglect of the continent, and an installment of A Princess of Silenz. This was the Nexus Manifesto, engraved on something far more sturdy than a piece of paper.

One member said what the rest of them were thinking. "The Heretic Whelp sent this object to the Council of Guardians? Who does he think he is?"

But the shield held some fascination in it, some deeper message that the unwary might miss.

"What is that made of, do we know?" asked another.

"The courier who brought it claimed it was made of Darkmaw shell," Maia explained. "I had it examined by the deans, and they say it's safe. The glow is a simple light prayer but, for some reason, they can't counter it. They say it's as permanent as a fragment of sun but without the extra effects. The writing is inside the shell, so it can't be scraped off. No tool we have can harm it. It seems to be indestructible, as far as anyone can tell."

Guardian Paraskevi's face contorted with hate. "That's his message, then. He thinks he can't be killed. He intends to destroy the first families and take our eternal place as Olyon's chosen servants! We've let this go on for much too long. He must be dealt with soon!"

"That's going to be difficult now that he has more disciples than us." Maia almost enjoyed delivering bad news to the council. Their decades of intransigence had created this mess. If they had just agreed to adopt promising talent into the Five Families instead of ignoring it or killing it off, they would have all the practitioners they needed. "I told you the desert wouldn't kill him and that he'd figure out a way to deal with Darkmaw. We should have recruited him to our side when he was still friendly — before someone tried to kill him."

She wasn't talking about the first time, when Lavradio ordered the boy's assassination in exchange for Enclave gold. That was a con job, and the foolish King Joaquim fell for it. She was thinking of the second attempt on the young disciple's life. The council had voted almost unanimously to defrock disciples of weak loyalty and recall them, and kill off the budding heretic and his followers. Nothing had gone to plan, and now the situation was beyond salvaging.

Maia and Paraskevi were the lone dissenters, but something had changed in Paraskevi in the weeks after the vote. It wasn't the death of her nephew: she had always considered Boleslovas a fool and, as a disciple, he was no match for Taylor DeLanion. Or, as he was known now, Phillip the Younger. That Boleslovas died in the attempt on Phillip's life came as no surprise to anyone who had met them both.

No, the change had come before her nephew's death. One day, Paraskevi started shouting Heritage propaganda full of green bile, spewing hate every time Nexus or its young Hierarch was mentioned. Maia didn't deny they were a threat to Enclave, albeit a threat this council had created, but the rhetoric was pointless. And the Paraskevi she used to know wasn't given to saying unnecessary things.

"Enough with the 'I told you so'," said the president. "Just record that the message was received and put the cursed thing aside. Tell the mail room to reject any future communication from Nexus."

"Mister President, we should think carefully about that." She tried to reason with them, but they shouted her down and voted to ban all messages from Nexus faster than she had seen them handle far more trivial business. They had banned a lot of things lately: soundingboards, Nexus News, prayer songs, and yet all of those things still existed in ever-greater numbers in Unity City. It was getting to the point where Enclave only controlled what happened within its own walls, its segregated section of Unity City. The influence that had kept the continent at peace for hundreds of years was slipping away through their fingers.

"Maia, do you have anything after the Mandates?" President Phrenos wanted to know after the meeting was adjourned.

"Just going over foreign reports."

"Cancel that. Meet me at the depot when the last class bell rings. Bring that." He pointed at the manifesto with the cloth draped over it.

"Where are we going?"

"On an excursion. There's no need to bring anything else, but you should eat an early dinner just in case."

Maia disliked observing the Mandates. It began as it always did, at the hierarch's residence. Her rooms were on the second floor of a grand building, above the Warden station and its guards, the kitchens, and the servitor's quarters. Maia and her attendant were passed through without inspection, and shown to an upstairs parlor where she waited. The wardens hadn't even bothered to check the large, cloth-covered object they carried with them. Yet, when the hierarch left her residence, they would follow in force.

The woman herself soon appeared, preceded by her Voice, a tall and greatly horned woman who wore a veil down to just above her lips. The veil was a sign she was speaking for the hierarch and not herself. Behind the Voice was Her Holiness Noora, hierarch of Enclave. Her veil covered everything, even her neck and chest. Not a word or sign would pass her lips or hands. That was one of the Mandates: the Hierarch could only communicate through their Voice. It was a tradition to signify Her Holiness's spiritual distance above mere mortals, but Maia thought it was cruel. Noora had taken her office when she was ten, and for fifteen years she hadn't spoken a word to anyone.

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Maia and her attendant bowed deeply while Her Holiness situated herself on an ornate chair that was little less than a throne, with her Voice behind her. "You may sit. What news from Leadership?"

"Nexus sent this to the council," Maia said, and her attendant uncovered the shield for her inspection. She explained what it was and how it came to be in Enclave. Her Holiness was unaware of the Nexus Manifesto and took the time to read it fully.

"It's certainly a moral position, but it isn't practical, is it?" she said at last, through her Voice. "The five families will never let go of their power. Not in my lifetime."

Her head panned the walls as if looking for a blank space big enough to mount the tower shield, but there was no space available at all. Her parlor was full of paintings, portraits and landscapes from every realm of Tenobre. Or maybe she was comparing it to her existing collection. Some of the pieces were by First Family artists and were displayed more for their political than aesthetic values. Maia noticed some of the worst portraits had come down since her last visit, to be replaced by landscapes. Perhaps Noora felt that, as an outright prisoner in her own home, there was no point in pleasing her jailers.

"We are ready for today's Mandate." She rose and strode toward the door. The veiled woman paused for a moment by the threshold and touched one of her smallest paintings, one whose colors shifted as the viewer's head moved. It was a bird made of fire, rising from glowing embers against a black and violet sky. It wasn't a master's work, but the bold lines were expressive of some great hope. The materials were strange, like someone had painted it with opals. Every time she saw the little picture, it hit some nerve of recognition Maia could not place.

Passing out of the building, they picked up six guards dressed in red and Warden Helen. She wasn't just a warden, one Enclave's armed security forces. She was the Warden, who had occupied her position since before Maia's grandmother's time at school here. She might be as old as Enclave itself, three hundred years and counting, but she didn't look a day over a hale forty-five. The Warden walked in front, down the broad main avenue, while the few people on the streets stood aside and knelt with their hands in prayer. Behind the Warden came two guards, the Voice, Her Holiness, Guardian Maia, Maia's two attendants, followed by four more guards.

There was a time when these little trips were full-blown processions, with all of Leadership in attendance. Now, they made the walk while classes were in session to avoid as many people as they could. There were four buildings at the end of the avenue, the four original Enclave structures raised by Saint Bahram: The Great Library of Enclave; The Basilica of Saint Bahram; The Grand Auditorium; And the Phrontistery, which the modern church had renamed "Lecture Hall One." Today's mandate was the library, and their informal procession entered the U-shaped building and took the stairs into the basement, down two turns of corridors which put them under the center of the building, where they found a dean and four apprentices waiting for them with worried faces.

"Rejoice," said the Voice, "you have been chosen to participate in a holy mandate. Only those of sanctified blood are suited to this task. Take pride in your sacrifice."

The dean turned white and started to say a prayer but Helen's sword was at his throat before the second word left his lips. The blade was bronze, but its edge faded into darkness. "Fool! What do you think you're doing?"

Dean Galonzo, a thirty-six-year veteran disciple and Lector of the Spiritual Arts, stuttered his answer. Maia thought he was going to wet himself. "I don't want to die here."

"Then don't do anything stupid," the warden retorted.

"Perhaps you misunderstand." The Voice showed half a smile beneath her veil on behalf of her hierarch. "Only a practitioner of proper Heritage is good enough to donate their spirit to this task. Surely, you didn't expect the Mandates to require blood magic?"

"No, Your Holiness." The dean slumped against the wall in relief. The Warden's sword withdrew a few centimeters but it was not put away. "Of course not. It's just the Hierarch never required assistance before. I am surprised you need the help."

"Past hierarchs often had the aid of their disciples, most especially in times of conflict. Do not tell me this isn't true, Dean Galonzo, for you aided my predecessor when you were an apprentice. Or did you forget?"

The dean shook his head fearfully, the unsheathed sword still potent in its threat. He opened his mouth to speak, but Her Holiness and her Voice weren't done with him. "Do not tell me you must save your spirit for other duties. You have no other duties. You have no one to heal, no monsters to fight, no buildings to repair, and precious few students to teach. Your schedule is quite free. I checked."

The sword was mercifully sheathed, and the apprentices helped their mentor to his feet.

"Good," said the Voice. "Let's begin."

Noora touched the blank wall in front of them, and a door with heavy locks appeared. Warden Helen produced three large keys to open the locks with heavy clanking noises. Past the door was a round white room with a fluted pillar in the center extending from floor to ceiling. It was the central support of the library, both physically and spiritually. It had to be filled with spirit, or else the library's ability to preserve texts and protect the restricted stacks would be compromised. In severe situations, the building itself could collapse.

"Everyone may enter. Practitioners will put both hands on the pillar," the Voice commanded them, and the five practitioners stood at the pillar and put their palms against it. "Dean Galonzo, do you remember the Prayer of Offering?" The dean shook his head, still too rattled to speak. "Then I will say the prayer for you. Warden, if they attempt to flee you may hold them by force. Let's begin."

In the year that she had been supervising the Mandates, Maia had watched these ceremonies from outside the room, with a barrier of silence between herself and the hierarch. For the first time in fifteen years, Maia heard Her Holiness's voice. It was only a whisper, hardly audible through her veil, but it was her own voice streaming out the words of an oft-practiced prayer.

"Great Creator Olyon who turned darkness into light and void into substance hear our prayer. We the children of your chosen families offer up our spirit to you our creator and guiding principle and dedicate ourselves to your service. Humbly we beseech your blessings not for ourselves but for the faithful whom we serve to serve our God."

It sounded like there was more to the prayer, but that was as far as Her Holiness could get before the dean and his four best students were on their knees, sweating into their silks. The pillar, which had been more of an ivory color when they entered, had lightened several shades to almost white.

"Enough," she said through her Voice. "After all the recent carping on about Heritage, I had hoped for better. Stand them aside, Helen. I will finish this." Noora put her hands on the pillar but no prayer passed her lips this time. The pillar grew whiter and whiter as they all watched until it nearly shone with pure spirit. Noora stepped back, satisfied.

"The practitioners are excused," the Voice told them, "but be warned. I will not bear these burdens alone while my disciples grow fat and stupid on their bloated stipends." The veiled head of Her Holiness turned toward them, blank yet menacing. "You will be of use to Enclave, or there is no point in keeping you."

The practitioners needed help to leave the room and the library, while Warden Helen locked the door and Noora restored the Sanctuary prayer that kept the room hidden and inviolable. Maia was relieved to see her finish a Mandate in such good condition for once, but then the hierarch stumbled and had to lean against the wall. She wanted no help from the guardian, her attendants, or even Helen. She shooed them all away and slumped to her knees right where Galonzo had humiliated himself.

Only Milara, her Voice, was permitted to approach. She offered the woman a vial of something under her veil, and Her Holiness drank. Potions to restore spirit were rare and expensive, but one didn't cut corners when it came to their hierarchs. Too much weight rested on their shoulders.

"What's wrong with her?" Maia asked. This was why Leadership observed the Mandates: in case something went wrong. She approved of Noora getting help with these onerous jobs, but if she needed the aid because she was sick, then Enclave had yet another serious problem on its hands.

Milara raised her veil and spoke for herself. "There's nothing wrong with her. She's stronger than she's ever been. There is something wrong with Enclave: it's taking more from her and we don't know why."