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the mainland scholars who studied Artifice claimed that its adepts could influence and even invade another person’s thoughts, those whom Jilseth had encountered could do little more than listen through a distant person’s ears or see through their eyes.
    The marvels once wrought with Artifice were as long lost as the Old Tormalin Empire. Indeed, didn’t those same scholars say that the Old Empire had fallen because Artifice had failed them? That and the arrogant folly of the emperor known to history as Nemith the Reckless.
    ‘Perhaps, perhaps not.’ Planir shrugged again. ‘But Aritane knows far more of Mandarkin wizardry than we do, though she herself followed the uplands’ aetheric tradition of magic. She has shared what she’s seen of Mandarkin magecraft with Usara and Shivvalan.’
    Kalion grunted. ‘Have your pet malcontents some revelation to share?’
    Jilseth knew that the Hearth Master disapproved of the Suthyfer settlement. If he were Archmage, he would never have allowed those mages who chafed at Hadrumal’s customs and traditions to set up their own haven of wizardry in the distant eastern ocean.
    Kalion warmed to his theme. ‘How can an adept of Artifice contribute anything to an understanding of Elemental wizardry? They have no more hope of mastering the antipathy between the two magics than we have.’
    Jilseth knew that some mages felt personally insulted because no mageborn could grasp the most trivial aetheric enchantment. Kalion merely saw it as proof that Artifice was beneath his notice. Very few wizards like Usara and Shivvalan were fascinated by the challenge of understanding why.
    Kalion waved all this irrelevance aside. ‘What do you intend on doing about this Mandarkin mage?’
    ‘Until he does something that requires me to act, nothing.’ The Archmage looked expectantly at Kalion. ‘So I need to see what he’s doing, Hearth Master, and as soon as possible. Don’t let me detain you from further refining your new nexus.’
    ‘As you wish, Archmage,’ Kalion said testily as he rose to his feet. ‘Good day, and to you, Jilseth,’ he added as an afterthought.
    ‘Good day, Hearth Master.’ Jilseth echoed Planir’s farewells. ‘Ely.’
    As the door swung closed behind them, Planir gestured to the vacated upholstered chair. ‘Why don’t you have a more comfortable seat?’
    Jilseth stayed where she was, struck by an unnerving possibility. ‘Archmage,’ she said hesitantly. ‘If my magic has truly deserted me, do you think that I could learn something of Artifice?’
    She had never visited Suthyfer but Merenel had spoken highly of the stone mage Usara and the Tormalin magewoman was not easily impressed.
    Jilseth would gladly flee to those remote islands in the eastern ocean, certainly before she returned to the placid village on Hadrumal’s southern shore where her parents farmed their small-holding, proud that their mageborn daughter had left them to hone her talents in the wizard city just as her mother’s brother and her father’s sister had done.
    ‘Your magic has not deserted you,’ Planir assured her.
    Jilseth stared at the hearth rug. She didn’t want to see pity in his eyes, or worse, false kindness.
    ‘Look at the fire,’ he chided her.
    ‘Archmage?’ She was surprised into looking up at him.
    He pointed at the hearth and she saw that the coals had been utterly consumed.
    ‘That was your magic stirring,’ Planir observed. ‘Somewhat erratically, I must say, but Ely was being particularly provoking. Wild magic is not unusual in such circumstances so I tamed it. I didn’t think you’d relish the Hearth Master’s advice, however well-meant,’ he added drily.
    ‘Archmage—’ Jilseth couldn’t doubt Planir but she still couldn’t feel any wizardry within her.
    ‘Your magic has not deserted you,’ he repeated, unexpectedly stern, ‘but recovering it will be neither easy nor swift. If you can master this upheaval, you may well find yourself a far more