Page 17 of Grave Situation

“As you can all see, the life stone has… rejoined us. It was found in southern Camblin by a farmer named Wat. It influenced Wat, and others who aided him, to bring it here to me.” He raises his hand, palm out, as the whole room seems to rustle. “I don’t know why me. It didn’t seem the most important question. My apprentice was in the Great Hall when the stone was influencing the guards to let Wat enter, and he stepped in, realized what was happening, and conveyed Wat and the stone directly to me. After Wat was questioned and had departed, we discovered that the stone is capable of a rudimentary form of communication.”

“What does that mean? Rudimentary?” one of the dragon riders asks.

Master looks down at the stone. “Could I impose upon you to demonstrate?”

~Yes~

Around the chamber, some faces go pale with surprise. Others cover their mouths or gasp.

“That’s what it means. Simple questions that require simple responses. It was not easy to determine who the stone wanted atthis meeting, but everyone in this room was hand-picked.” The last part is rather pointedly directed at Master Meele, but I don’t think Master need have bothered. Master Meele seems about thirty seconds away from fainting. It’s a good look for him.

“What… what do we do now?” a healer asks.

Master spreads his hands. “That’s what we’re here to determine. It is, unfortunately, too open-ended a question for the stone to respond to directly.”

“We need to decide what questions to ask,” Master Cranch suggests, but that immediately prompts a free-for-all of shouting. Good thing I got my headache healed.

I wince. No, I’m not thinking about that little encounter.

The stone, clearly not happy, blasts us all with its displeasure, and the room falls silent in shock.

“I’ve discovered,” Master says blandly, “that it has quite strong opinions and prefers things done in an orderly fashion.”

“But how can we know what questions to ask?” someone bleats pathetically. “The possibilities are endless!”

The records master clears his throat. He’s about a million years old and has a croaky, wispy kind of voice, and I swear, when he walks, you can actually hear his bones groaning. But he doesn’t suffer fools, and I’ve seen him swigging from a flask that smells of spirits more than once. There are worse ways to get old. “It seems to me,” he gasp-wheezes, “that we have a document designed for this very occasion.”

Awareness smacks me over the head. I should have remembered that earlier. I even thought that I should have paid more attention in classes about the prophecies.

“We do?” someone calls, and I immediately feel a lot better. I’m just a level-2 mage. These people arecouncilors. They have no excuse.

“The Prophecy of the Stone,” the records master intones, then coughs. I try not to smirk at the number of embarrassed faces in the room.

“An excellent point.” Master Samoine turns to the stone. “Should we consult the prophecies to guide us in the next steps?”

~Yes~

CHAPTER SIX

While the recordsmaster brings out the correct scroll and Master Cranch asks the prophetic scholars to come forward to help find the more relevant parts, I wander over to the refreshments table. It’s been ignored by everyone else so far, which means I get first pick.

The options are good. They always are for council meetings—much better than what we get in the cafeteria. I pile my plate high with delicate little sandwiches, exotic stuffed peppers, tiny savory tarts, and some kind of puffy pastry thing that smells like cheese, and then turn my attention to the sweets. I’m going to need another plate.

“If Mage Silverbright isquitedone thinking of his stomach instead of this serious situation, perhaps we can move on,” a voice snaps. Dessert might have to wait. I glance over my shoulder to see all eyes on me and Master Meele glaring with squinty eyes. He seems to have recovered from his fit of the vapors.

“Master Kahwyn said I had to eat,” I say as meekly as I can manage, making my way back to my seat. I’ll get through this plate and think about more later.

“He had a headache earlier, and I sent him for a healing,” Master adds in support.

One of the healers gasps. “You bothered Master Kahwyn for aheadache?”

Uh… sure. Even if I hadn’t been avoiding the guy, I would definitely have chosen to leave the Academy of Mages and cross the chasm to the Academy of Healers to demand that the best healer in the world take care of my headache.

I push aside the thought that it really wouldn’t be unlike me to do so, and prepare to defend myself against affronted healers.

But I don’t have to. One of the others is speaking. “He was at the mages’ infirmary this afternoon. There was some problem with the schedule, and he offered to fill in for an hour until someone else could be found.”

I nod and cram a sandwich in my mouth. The first healer looks slightly mollified.

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