but there wasn’t anything fancy about it. Just a seat, two arm rests, and a tall back.
Next to the Obsidian Throne was a small table with two objects; a chain of office and a zucchetto—the form-fitting skullcap worn by higher-ranking Catholic clergy. Well, he was sure they didn’t call it a zucchetto here, but that’s what it was nevertheless. And he didn’t like it one bit.
Two liveried pages distributed a pamphlet of some sort as council magi entered the chamber. Were those programs ?
“You’re making that face again, Archmage,” Tithian said.
At least Tithian had stopped calling him Holy One .
“Do the robes fit well?” Tithian asked.
Nick held out his arms and examined himself.
“I look like Kagan,” Nicolas said. “Same damned robe.”
“One, it’s only a uniform,” Tithian said. “A symbol that everyone understands and respects. And two, it’s not the same damned robe . Dead Kagan is wearing the same damned robe , remember? That’s something you need to change, by the way. We can’t have him running around wearing official robes anymore.”
Nicolas agreed and sent the command through the necromantic link.
“Done,” Nicolas said.
“And three,” Tithian held a finger in Nicolas’s face in an uncharacteristic display of assertiveness. “It’s not the robes that make the man. It’s the man who makes the robes.”
“Well, I appreciate your—”
Sergeant Diggins, the guard who checked on Nicolas the night before, ran up behind them, panting.
“Archmage,” Diggins said. “I came as quickly as I could. Just like you asked.”
“Ahh,” Tithian said. “I see you’ve already met Sergeant-at-Diggins.”
Diggins blushed.
“It’s okay, Diggins,” Tithian said with a smile. “We all get flustered now and again.”
“Thank you, Prime—”
“But for future reference,” Tithian said, “if you’re going to interrupt someone, it is me and not the archmage you should interrupt. Protocol, Diggins. You address me if the archmage and I are together, and preferably not while the archmage is speaking.”
“Understood, Prime Warlock.”
“Now, what is it you would like to say?”
“Archmage, I found Lord Mukhtaar.”
“Mujahid?” Nicolas asked.
Diggins nodded. “I told him you were upset that you didn’t get a chance to introduce the Lady Kaitlyn to him, and he promised to seek her out on the grounds.”
“So he won’t be attending the ceremony?” Nicolas asked.
“Lord Mukhtaar said you’d be better served by Prime Warlock Tithian and the Council magi.”
Nicolas looked down. It was difficult to conceal the disappointment.
“Thank you, Diggins,” Tithian said. “If there’s nothing else, that will be all.”
Diggins saluted and walked away.
“I understand why you feel close to Lord Mujahid,” Tithian said. His voice had softened. “But I promise I’ll help you through this.”
“It’s not that,” Nicolas said, placing a hand on Tithian’s soldier. “Trust me. You’re the bee’s knees of Prime Warlocks.”
“I’m…not sure how I feel about that.”
“It’s a good thing. Means you’re a decent dude and I have a great deal of respect for you.”
“Well…thank you, Archmage.”
“I’m worried about him, that’s all. He was a man with a single purpose for forty years, and now that’s just…gone.”
“Ahh, I see,” Tithian said. “I’ve known Lord Mujahid for many years, and believe me when I tell you he’s a man who finds purpose where most of us wouldn’t recognize it. He’ll never tell you this, but he has a heart the size of the Pinnacle. And it’s that heart that keeps him away from your installation ceremony.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Consider this. He’s a Mukhtaar Lord . As much as I know he wants to attend, if he enters those chambers, all eyes will be on him from beginning to end. He wants this to be your day. And, in some ways, mine as well.”
“See?” Nicolas said. “Like I said. The bee’s
Next to the Obsidian Throne was a small table with two objects; a chain of office and a zucchetto—the form-fitting skullcap worn by higher-ranking Catholic clergy. Well, he was sure they didn’t call it a zucchetto here, but that’s what it was nevertheless. And he didn’t like it one bit.
Two liveried pages distributed a pamphlet of some sort as council magi entered the chamber. Were those programs ?
“You’re making that face again, Archmage,” Tithian said.
At least Tithian had stopped calling him Holy One .
“Do the robes fit well?” Tithian asked.
Nick held out his arms and examined himself.
“I look like Kagan,” Nicolas said. “Same damned robe.”
“One, it’s only a uniform,” Tithian said. “A symbol that everyone understands and respects. And two, it’s not the same damned robe . Dead Kagan is wearing the same damned robe , remember? That’s something you need to change, by the way. We can’t have him running around wearing official robes anymore.”
Nicolas agreed and sent the command through the necromantic link.
“Done,” Nicolas said.
“And three,” Tithian held a finger in Nicolas’s face in an uncharacteristic display of assertiveness. “It’s not the robes that make the man. It’s the man who makes the robes.”
“Well, I appreciate your—”
Sergeant Diggins, the guard who checked on Nicolas the night before, ran up behind them, panting.
“Archmage,” Diggins said. “I came as quickly as I could. Just like you asked.”
“Ahh,” Tithian said. “I see you’ve already met Sergeant-at-Diggins.”
Diggins blushed.
“It’s okay, Diggins,” Tithian said with a smile. “We all get flustered now and again.”
“Thank you, Prime—”
“But for future reference,” Tithian said, “if you’re going to interrupt someone, it is me and not the archmage you should interrupt. Protocol, Diggins. You address me if the archmage and I are together, and preferably not while the archmage is speaking.”
“Understood, Prime Warlock.”
“Now, what is it you would like to say?”
“Archmage, I found Lord Mukhtaar.”
“Mujahid?” Nicolas asked.
Diggins nodded. “I told him you were upset that you didn’t get a chance to introduce the Lady Kaitlyn to him, and he promised to seek her out on the grounds.”
“So he won’t be attending the ceremony?” Nicolas asked.
“Lord Mukhtaar said you’d be better served by Prime Warlock Tithian and the Council magi.”
Nicolas looked down. It was difficult to conceal the disappointment.
“Thank you, Diggins,” Tithian said. “If there’s nothing else, that will be all.”
Diggins saluted and walked away.
“I understand why you feel close to Lord Mujahid,” Tithian said. His voice had softened. “But I promise I’ll help you through this.”
“It’s not that,” Nicolas said, placing a hand on Tithian’s soldier. “Trust me. You’re the bee’s knees of Prime Warlocks.”
“I’m…not sure how I feel about that.”
“It’s a good thing. Means you’re a decent dude and I have a great deal of respect for you.”
“Well…thank you, Archmage.”
“I’m worried about him, that’s all. He was a man with a single purpose for forty years, and now that’s just…gone.”
“Ahh, I see,” Tithian said. “I’ve known Lord Mujahid for many years, and believe me when I tell you he’s a man who finds purpose where most of us wouldn’t recognize it. He’ll never tell you this, but he has a heart the size of the Pinnacle. And it’s that heart that keeps him away from your installation ceremony.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Consider this. He’s a Mukhtaar Lord . As much as I know he wants to attend, if he enters those chambers, all eyes will be on him from beginning to end. He wants this to be your day. And, in some ways, mine as well.”
“See?” Nicolas said. “Like I said. The bee’s
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