Char, Eni, and Gell spun to face the stairs in unison, immediately snapping into what I took to be respectful poses, one fist held over their sternums, their heads bowed.
“Apologies, Amethyst Magister,” Charrin said. Their tone was a work of art–crisp, clear, respectful, and absolutely dripping with disdain. “I did not imagine we’d be keeping you waiting.”
Fallon had taken on a respectful posture of her own, legs together and arms held straight at her side, but I had never been great at obeying authority figures, much less showing respect to those who were rude to my friends. I turned casually to the top of the staircase to see who it was that decided berating our brief delay was a good use of time.
There was no better word to describe her than “matronly.” The Amethyst Magister was a few inches shorter than even Eni, who was the shortest ellid we had met so far, and she carried significantly more weight, giving her a sort of plumpness that matched her simple gray and purple robes. Her skin was similar to Charrin’s burnished bronze, while her hair was significantly more gray, though whether that was from age or nature, I couldn’t tell. With the weight rounding out her face, she looked like a favorite aunt, or a young grandmother–until you got to her eyes.
Her gaze was steel-hard, a perception reinforced by eyes that were a dark, glittering gray. Those weren’t the eyes of a kindly grandma. They were the eyes of a drill-sergeant, assessing recruits on the first day and finding them lacking.
“No, of course you didn’t,” the Magister said, continuing down the stairs as she spoke, “you always did lack imagination, Delver Charrin. I suppose that’s why you ended up with the Irons. And even if you were not keeping me waiting, is that any excuse for your lack of promptness? I expect you do knew that none less than the Grand Magister himself is waiting for you, as are the rest of the High Magisters–”
“Most of them, at least,” a voice cut in. Only when he spoke did I notice the man lounging in the shadow of the staircase. His positioning made him easy to miss, but still gave him a clear view of the entry hall. Unlike the first Magister, this one–there was no doubt in my mind that he was someone of rank–wore an outfit of close-fitting blacks and dark grays. He shared the same coloring as the other Magister, though his close-cropped hair was white, and overall, as he stepped out of the shadows, he gave the impression of a recently-retired tradesman. Someone who had spent his entire life working with his hands and had only just let his lean body gain some comfortable weight.
His face was wrinkled with laugh lines, emphasized by a small smile that felt habitual, but the first Magister reacted to his presence as she’d been slapped–giving him just enough time to continue talking before she could jump in.
“Tell me, Alma, is your scolding helping our guests get to the Small Hall any faster?” He turned and gave us a small nod, surprising me with a noticeable balding patch at his crown. “Stop scaring them and scurry off. Let Elsenis know that I'll be bringing them up shortly, so he should take the chance to get the others to stop bickering.”
“The High Magisters do not bicker.” The matronly woman, Alma, bit off each word like chips of ice, but the newcomer shrugged broadly, his eyes twinkling.
“Maybe not in front of you. Now scurry along, Almara.”
The woman gave the man a glare that looked like she hoped it would set him alight, but once that failed to happen, she did as he said, hustling up the stairs.
Once she had left, Eni blew out a long breath. “Thank you, sir.”
“Eni, Eni,” he scolded her playfully, “what have I told you? Outside of class or council, call me Elbexas.”
Enila smiled ruefully. “Of course, sir. Elbe.”
Elbexas turned to the two of us again, his dark eyes dancing with amusement. “So, two humans. Isn’t that something?” He inspected us, and I couldn’t help a little shiver. His eyes saw way, way too much in a single look. While the vivid eye colors seemed to be the norm for ellids, Elbexas took it a step farther. They were iridescent all the way through, deepest black flecked with a rainbow of colors. “With classes, too. Interesting and interesting-er.”
I didn’t know how I was supposed to respond to that, and I was starting to think ellid culture lacked any formal introductions. It was throwing me off.
“I’m Dani, si–Elbexas.”
The man’s face immediately brightened, as if I told a wondrous joke. “Ah, see that, Enila? One day here, and she already gets it! That’s what I want to see from a rogue! And who’s our crystal-kissed friend here?”
Fallon stiffened, and I felt a similar shock run through me. He knew our classes already? How?
Those uncanny eyes continued to twinkle with his amusement.
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“I-I’m Fallon, sir.”
“Ah, ah!”
“El-Elbexas?”
“There we are!” The man laughed merrily, as if party to a joke the rest of us weren’t, and he turned back to our friends. “Well, everything else aside, we really shouldn’t keep Ful and the others waiting. Charrin, Gellert, would you mind escorting them up to the Small Hall? Eni and I will be along momentarily.”
Charrin was obviously discomforted by this notion, but it just as clearly didn’t occur to the knight to refuse. Though phrased as a question, Elbexas’s request was doubtlessly an order.
“Of course, Magister Elbexas.”
“Ah, figuring out my game, are you? Cramming my title and name together like that… I’m starting to think you’re the bad influence teaching my Enila to be so respectful.”
Charrin smiled uncomfortably and ducked their head, clearly at a loss on how to respond. “We will see you shortly, sir.”
Gellert herded the two of us towards the stairs, Char close behind. Elbexas didn’t move, but watched us with obvious amusement, Eni standing in his shadow.
The staircase led to a series of hallways, all made of the same marble-like stone, which Char led us through briskly.
“Who was that guy?” Fallon asked, once we had turned a couple corners.
“That was Watchful Magister Elbexas.”
“He was… odd,” I noted.
“He’s the High Magister of Vigilant House,” Char said, their voice tight. “That means he’s reached maximum level–and it makes him one of the most powerful people in all of Elida.”
“Ah,” I said. “And we’ve caught his eye. His creepy, shiny, rainbow eyes.”
“It was inevitable,” Char said.
“One of the joys of being a human,” Gellert added in an amused growl.
#
The Small Hall was appropriately named. It was about as large as two of Aoss’s dungeon rooms side-by-side: a long, rectangular chamber almost completely filled by a large table. On one side of the table sat four more ellids, with Almara, the Amethyst Magister, hovering dutifully behind them, her eyes as hard as ever but her posture much more servile than it had been in the entry hall.
The table spread to either side of us as we entered, with the Magisters sitting arrayed along the length opposite us. One man sat at the middle of the table, with a woman sitting to either side of him. Past the Magister on his right was another, a wizened ellid of indeterminate gender, while two seats to his left was a noticeably empty seat. Elbexas’s, I assumed.
It was the man in the middle who immediately seized my attention. Even sitting, he was positively towering, his voluminous, many-colored robed making it hard to tell his exact build. The ents, as that was the only name I could think of for them, mixed the four colors apparently associated with the starter jobs–crimson, magenta, indigo, and cerulean–with gold embellishments. His head was shaved bare, and his skin was the darkest I had seen so far from any ellids. He was old, but it was the age of a massive tree that had only grown more impressive with the passage of time.
As if Elbexas’s eyes hadn’t been sufficiently off-putting, this man’s eyes were literally glowing, blue and white traced together as if they had been replaced by small, rough spheres of crystal.
“Ah, good.” His voice carried with the rhythms of a natural orator, filling the room without any noticeable effort. The other Magisters immediately went still, their soft conversations dying out. “Please,” he said, gesturing at the seats across the table from him, “take a seat.”
Charrin urged us forward. The seats were arranged oddly. Two were directly across from the centered man, who I presumed was the Grand Magister we had heard about, and it was these we were sat in. Charrin and Gellert sat to our right, opposite an ellid woman clad in gleaming armor, leaving only one more vacant seat, facing the equally empty chair on the other side.
“Very well… It seems we’re missing someone,” the Grand Magister said.
“Delver Enila,” the matronly Almara provided–unnecessarily, I was sure. There was no chance this imposing man didn’t know everyone that was supposed to be in the room with him.
“Yes Your Eminence, Watchful Magister Elbexas bid us tell you that he and Enila would be along shortly.”
“And here we are, as promised!”
I was seriously starting to think that, whatever class Elbexas had, it included dramatic entrances as a core ability.
The Watchful Magister, with his opalescent eyes and dark clothes, took a seat across from Enila, who leaned past Char to look down the table and give us each a reassuring smile.
The other Magisters looked, in various degrees, annoyed or ruffled by their peer’s tardiness, but the Grand Magister reacted only with a tolerant smile.
“Very well,” the central figure started up again. “The High Magisters assemble today in the Small Hall, under the blessed light of Facet, to discuss circumstances surrounding the arrival and disposition of two humans. This meeting will, as always, be recorded for reference and posterity.”
I can’t help but look around. I don’t see any obvious recording devices in the room, although the reference to “under the blessed light” drew my eyes up to the ceiling, where the glittering of faces of what looked like a diamond the size of a boulder lit up the room.
“Will all High Magisters please account for their presence?”
“Conducting Magister Bela, of the Crystalline Chorus,” intoned the solemn, beautiful ellid to the Grand Magister’s right.
“Steel Magister Helda, of the Iron Curriculum,” said the fierce, armored woman across from Char and Gellert.
“Eldritch Magister Merreire. Arcane Conspectus,” creaked the wizened little ellid elder that sat to Bela’s right.
“Watchful Magister Elbexas, Vigilant House.” Somehow, the dark man sounded ready to break into laughter at the ridiculous formality of it all.
“Grand Magister Elsenis Ful, acting as council lead,” finished the man in the middle of the table, the sun that the others orbited. “Let us begin.”
