We ended with a brief explanation and update from Steven about the Bishop. Everyone was quiet but attentive. He was such a fixture in the city that nobody expected this tragedy, and most here knew how generous he had been with our healing efforts just yesterday.

  Steven began. “We are certain that at least four assassins conducted the assassination. Three didn’t make it out of the room. Their identities are being kept secret for now. I’m not sure why.”

  He spoke carefully and in an almost monotone. He had been crushed by the Bishop’s death, and especially so because Paternus was not here, and it is not known when he might return. The Bishop was his great uncle, and Paternus was seen as his uncle’s heir, albeit many years from now.

  “The door to the upper praying room, the floor right below the bell tower, was magically sealed. It took us a long time to get inside, and by then it was too late. Even the Bishop’s healing powers could not bring someone back after that long. And nobody else had near his strength or experience.”

  He looked at me and then back to his folded hands as he said, “The Bishop was found in his regular evening clothes. His magical ring, armor, and sign of office were not with him and could not be found in his chambers. There is an unofficial search underway, and leadership thinks that they may have been stolen.”

  I knew what was in the chest the Bishop had me store in the vault for Paternus, and suspected it was everything that was missing. It solidified in my mind that the Bishop knew his time was limited, and he made plans accordingly. Part of those plans was to stop by here long enough to bless me and share as much healing as we could handle from him.

  He would be deeply missed.

  There were a few questions and lots of words of condolences.

  I didn’t want to end on a sad note, but the Bishop’s death made this threat even more real. It also led several to ask what I was doing to protect myself, since if they could get to the Bishop, could they get to me or the Duke?

  Bella appeared behind me.

  “No assassin will harm Gwydion or any of you while you are in this place. I will not allow it.”

  A little tension went out of my shoulders. Several were also wondering how safe they might be.

  Bella asked, “Gwydion, I would like to suggest that going forward, any magic that blocks minds from me be prevented from entering.”

  “I agree,” Biff replied, followed rapidly by the Watch and Inquisitor guard members of our team.

  “But-” I began.

  And most of the journeymen chimed in, also in agreement. Adriana said, “Gwydion, you can override if it is urgent, but anyone who comes in under those conditions going forward will be stopped at the door and will either remove their protection, like checking their staff or sword at the door, which we already require of customers, or be turned away. They will be safe here from outside threats. If they have a message, they can deliver it from the porch.”

  I looked around the room. Even Junior, whom I was not entirely sure understood the topic, seemed set.

  “Okay. I’ll defer to the wisdom of the team.” It was the same situation that the Duke faced this morning from his war council.

  We all knew that it would not protect me or anyone else outside of the shoppe, but it would send a boost of confidence across all members and strengthen the feeling of security here.

  Red got up. “If that’s it, I have some urgent errands to run before we head out to the Capital. Place your orders with Simon before you leave, and we’ll do our best to fill our bags with your travel souvenirs.”

  He was booed again as he dodged a few of his patent-pending metal writing devices and wads of parchment paper.

  I had scheduled a quick visit to the Enchanter’s Guild to ask for some help and planned to ask about a few of our ideas. I had also requested a meeting at the Alchemist Guild to see about our last order of potions. By now, they had to know we were making potions, and I was certain that my greeting would be icy, but it needed to happen in person. Notes and requests from journeymen were merely disregarded.

  But I would start with the enchanters.

  Half an hour after we ended our team meeting, I stood before the assembled leadership and masters of my guild. Until a few days ago, these had all been my mentors and instructors. In many ways, they still were, although the past days had made me feel a lot older and more distant from my sheltered time as an apprentice in this hall.

  After a formal introduction of me by the guildmaster, they all dropped their hoods and relaxed in their chairs.

  “Thank you all for taking the time this morning to meet. I won’t be long, but I felt that it was important to update you about the state of work the Special Services team has been up to and ask for your advice as the final days leading up to the arrival of the goblin horde tick down.”

  In discussing this session with Master Glimmerblade, he suggested I start off by bringing them up to date on enchantment work, which appeals to their pride, and then link that to the need for ongoing support, which appeals to their sense of community and self-preservation.

  Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

  We still did not know who the traitor or traitors were, but I didn’t believe it was anyone in this room. But the sign of a good traitor is that it had to be someone you didn’t suspect. Nobody was wearing a black hat and twirling a dark mustache, cackling evilly.

  I had their attention, at least. So I pressed on.

  Master Glimmerblade also suggested I drop the bombshell about a possible traitor. He said that they were all already thinking about it, but giving it an official voice would settle them down, as they would not want to appear as traitors or hesitate to help, which would lead others to suspect that they might be traitors. It was a double-edged sword, but he advised for it rather than against it. Besides, we needed help, and the talent this guild could provide to our efforts was critical.

  “I apologize in advance if some of what I share is already known to you. I am also sure there are secret projects you are working on. If you feel it is relevant, you can share it with the group now or with me in private later if it does not put your efforts at unnecessary risk. As you probably suspect, the Duke and Tower have strong reason to believe that there is a traitor in the city that is feeding information to the enemy.”

  There was a lot of mumbling about that last statement, and most of it was angry. Master Eli Habberjaz, an older and very wealthy enchanter who specialized in magical clothing, asked in a hostile voice, “Do they suspect us?”

  More angry muttering followed.

  The guildmaster slammed his staff against a metal floor panel that sent shocks out to everyone in the room. It was rarely used, but it was an enchantment that caused everyone to stop talking for seven seconds. It stopped breathing for that long as well.

  The room became silent. I was not able to speak, but he was.

  “Settle down!” He barked. “If the Duke suspected any of us specifically, Gwydion wouldn’t be here to update us, would he? We all suspected this. Let’s hear him out. And put the egos on the back burner. This is a fight for our survival, not tenure or promotion.”

  By the time the guildmaster had finished his statements, we could all breathe easily once more. He got a few angry looks for having used the magical device so early, but it did set a precedent that he would use it again if the room became unruly.

  All eyes eventually returned to me.

  “Thank you, guildmaster.” I nodded to him and cleared my throat. “You are correct, of course. I am here in the hope that bringing you all up to speed on current plans and tapping into your knowledge and experience could lead to improvements and efficiencies because our time is very short. If your skills are requested by Special Services, even though we are at war, I have been authorized to compensate you for your help.” I smiled and waved to the room, “This is already known to many since you and your students have been helping out at the shoppe for the past couple of days.”

  A few looked around knowingly, making it clear they had already volunteered their time in defense of the city.

  Wanting to head off any prideful arguments, I said, “Please allow me to begin. Our enchantment work has focused on several concurrent areas: offensive magical rings for soldiers, healing rings for those on the front lines and in the hospitals, defensive rings which are a bit sketchy at this point, minor potions for healing, skill recovery, and magical restoration, magical weapons such as exploding arrows because we will be drastically outnumbered, and some special projects that are still in the planning stages.”

  The guildmaster interrupted. “Hold questions to the end. The first part is just information. If you disagree or have other ideas, hold them to the end.” He looked back at me. “Continue, Patron.”

  For the guildmaster to refer to me in that manner, in this assembly of master and grandmaster mages, said a lot about the confidence he and others had in me. Nobody in the room openly scoffed at my title. I doubted that such a recognition for a journeyman would go unchallenged in any other mage hall in the city. I knew the alchemists would not greet me this warmly.

  I proceeded to explain our most recent plans for each of these areas. I did not give exact numbers, but I did talk about a change in strategy away from Magebolts and Mage Blast to area of effect and damage over time spell effects. I saw several nods of agreement on that point, which was encouraging. I briefly explained that this decision came from firsthand battles with the undead and then the goblins.

  What we had winnowed down to less than ten minutes in our shoppe briefings took me more than twice that long in this group because there was not the same degree of context and awareness of the work being done in different departments.

  When I finished, my former master, Master Glimmerblade, spoke up. “Let’s give the patron a round of applause for this amazing work. It is the least we can do to thank him for trying to save the city before we offer our advice and tear his plans all to pieces.”

  There was general laughter around the room, and the mages relaxed. A tension had been building, and my master wanted to cool it off and open creative minds for these mages to offer ideas and volunteer their services. Because it came from him, the master most likely to defend me and my honor, it had a significant positive impact on the others.

  He winked at me and sat back in his chair.

  The guildmaster led the light applause. Afterward, he said, “And remember that we do not have time for debate or theory. This is life and death. Also, be aware that your suggestions might be interpreted as volunteering to add, build, correct, or replace efforts in the Special Services, so don’t just shoot ideas down casually. We want solutions, not naysayers.”

  Most of the mages nodded in agreement and understanding. A few others still grumbled, but most were sincerely engaged.

  Master Habberjaz interjected. “I notice an absence of magical armor, shields, and clothing. Is that deliberate?” His question was sincere, and I did not take it as an attack.

  “No, master.” I began.

  The guildmaster interrupted me. “Gwydion, in here this morning, you may feel free to use first names. We appreciate the respect, but you are one vote away from master, and all our egos are plenty large without the added title.”

  They laughed.

  I said, “Thank you, Guildmaster Ashaa.” He held up a finger. “I mean, Prandash,” I said.

  I looked around the room. “I thank you all, but in truth, I only know most of you by master and your last names. I don’t know many of your first names.” They laughed. “So I thank you, but I am comfortable referring to you as masters. You may refer to me as Gwydion, Journeyman, or Patron. I am quite used to all three, and I am more interested in your ideas than treating you as an equal or getting some measure of respect, which, in many minds, I still have not properly earned despite what has happened.”

  That was well said, Gwydion. A few that I could even read had still been silently grumbling about the fast promotion despite holding you in high regard, and your words helped to soothe some of their resentment. Bella told me.

  “Back to my question, then.” Master Habberjaz said.

  “The answer to your question is no, it was not deliberate. We simply did not have the resources to look at these efforts. I had hoped you would bring this up because I have a plan to protect the irregulars from harm, as well as some ideas about armor. I had not even considered shields, which could be a brilliant and easier path to take.”

  He nodded. “What idea about the irregulars? Those are the ragtag children you have been using?”

  “Yes. Let me tell you why I want to protect them. And I shared a brief story about Ears and his sacrifice that saved hundreds, maybe thousands of lives.”

  They listened to the story, and I saw that it moved most of them. Defending children appealed to a wider selection of mages than just using their casting points generically on magical rings.

  When I had finished, Master Habberjaz said, “Count me in. I’ll even give a discount.”

  Several more mages laughed. The clothing master was well known for his focus on wealth and the acquisition of worldly goods. Still, he was one of several that I had hoped to reach at a deeper level because I also wanted to speak with him about the mage robes for my journeyman team leaders.

  “But you will need very specialized material,” he said, “and it is expensive and hard to acquire.”

  “I am heading to the capital later today with a group to acquire more than a dozen bolts of Merino wool.”

  He lit up. “That will work amazingly well. You really are a bright young patron.” He said and beamed at those around him at the generosity of his compliment.

  A few rolled their eyes, but his skills were so pronounced that nobody said anything out loud.