" " ' ' Wenn stood, looking blankly at the guards. "What?" he asked.
"Sir, we must make you arrest," said the guardsman. He held a three foot rod of some strangely dark metal. "Let us not make a scene of it."
Wenn and Crissa both cringed away from the almost hostile emanations of the staff. By sight other than normal light, they could see malevolence about it. It hated magic, and disliked mages, even without anything magical about.
"Captain," asked Marrat, himself visibly taken aback by the staff's negating aura, "must you wield a wizardsbane so offensively?"
The captain held it downward, in a less threatening manner. "I apologize, but to us, Master Wenn is an unknown quotient, sir."
"I understand that and I vouch for his behavior," said Marrat, giving Wenn a meaningful look.
Mandran nodded curtly and turned toward one guard, who held a large wooden case. The staff was placed within and the lid closed. It was as if a fire had been snuffed in Wenn's mind. He hadn't even heard the buzzing sound in his ears until it was gone. "What was that thing?" he asked Marrat.
"A wizardsbane, a weapon to render mages helpless," said Marrat.
Both of they young apprentices looked at the captain with newfound upset and worry. "Would it hurt us?" asked Wenn, eyeing the casket, but talking to Master Marrat.
"Not in and of itself, but if you tried to use magic around it, it would suck your energies dry," explained Marrat. "I cannot know about Crissa, her abilities are so different from ours and powered differently, as well. It might hurt her.
Crissa gave the box one last look, then turned toward the captain again. "What do you mean that he killed that ass Lentan?" she said. "We just saw him not an two hours ago, and he was hale and hearty and full of piss and vinegar."
"As you say, Mistress Crissa," said the captain, trying very hard to remain professional. "But he is quite thoroughly dead now, and it was known that Master Wenn had accepted challenge to duel him this very night."
Wenn bowed up at this point. "So you call my honor into question by laying claim that I ambushed him and killed him rather than face the cad in a fair fight?" he asked.
"That is the charge, Master Wenn, though the details must come out in the trial," said Captain Mandran. "For now, you are made arrest, please."
"Go with him, Wenn, and offer no resistance," commanded Marrat in a quiet voice. "Do not dishonor us by adding real crime to the charges."
Wenn blinked at the old wizard, then nodded. "Yes, Master Marrat," he said.
Crissa tried to follow them as the guards formed a rough box around the young apprentice. Marrat stopped her with a old, callous, and surprisingly strong hand. "No, dear," he said. "You need to stay."
Her eyes turned to his, wide and pleading. "But he needs me," she said.
"He needs you to stay here, and clear of the confusion that his arrest will cause," said Marrat, gently nudging the doors to his foyer closed.
"You do know he didn't do it, don't you?" asked Crissa, blinking back tears.
Marrat shook his head. "I know no such thing, though I do not believe he did it," said the old wizard.
"How can you say that?" asked Crissa, almost screaming. "You know he didn't do it!" Tears now rolled down her cheeks and she clenched her fists into tight knots.
Again, Master Marrat shook his head. "I fear I cannot say that," he said.
"Then look into his mind and see the truth," she said.
"I cannot do that, my dear, even if I were able," said Marrat, a odd placidity coming over his features.
"You won't lift a finger to defend him?" she asked, her expression incredulous. "What the hell is wrong with you?"
Marrat moved toward the library and sat upon a small stool within the massive room. "I cannot take any side in this," he said. "I must remain impartial."
"Why?" she asked. "You are his mentor, you have to take his side."
"Because," said Marrat, taking out his pipe and starting to pack tobacco into the bowl, "as he is a wizard, and I am the senior wizard of the duchy, I must be his judge."
- - - - - - - - - -
"I cannot simply recuse myself, Crissa, you must understand that," said Marrat, sighing. "We are wizards, and held to a higher standard, we must simply become impartial, even if it hurts inside to do so."
"And does it hurt?" she shot back. "You don't seem terribly upset."
"It does, my dear," said the old man.
She turned about again, hammering both her fists on the end of a large bookshelf. "One protect me, I want to throttle you right now," she said.
"I understand that feeling," he said mildly.
She blinked at him. "Who will be his defender in the court?" she asked, a small spark of hope dawning in her eyes. "He is a freeman and such is his right."
Marrat nodded. "Indeed, it is," he said. "I have sent for a friend from Morrovale to assist in that endeavor, to act as his barrister."
She nodded and said, "At least you did that much."
"I had to, as the judge, it is my duty to ensure he is represented," said Marrat. "I did him no special favors."
"I suggest you go to bed and begin afresh on the morrow, Crissa," said Marrat, picking up a massive tome and carrying it toward his own bedchamber. "You have much to do."
"What have I to do, except watch my lover be tried for a murder he didn't commit?" she asked.
Marrat gave her a weak smile. "I assume you wish to clear his name," he said. "Such things are best done with clear heads and well-rested bodies."
She blinked after him as he closed the door to his chamber.
Crissa could not think straight. Wenn was now prisoner and her life was twisted out of alignment. She stormed up to their shared tower room and threw herself onto the bed and wept, frustration bled as she wailed into the pillow, her heart hurting for her missing mate.
- - - - - - - - - -
She awoke to the sun beaming into her face. The sun did not come into this part of the room till near noon. She blinked at the blinding light and slipped from the bed.
After bathing and donning clean clothes, she walked downstairs to find Marrat sequestered in the library with the massive, heavy doors closed tight and barred. There would be no help from that quarter.
With a massive sigh, she left the house and walked aimlessly down the streets of Norboro. She was unsure where she may be going, but soon found herself standing before the student dormitory at the academy.
She glared at the building, annoyed at it. She thought, for a moment, to see if she could do something to it, using her abilities.
Surely, that would help Wenn so much,
she thought, then smiled at the silliness of the very idea.
Taking a massive breath, she walked toward the front doors.
An upperclassman opened the door as she approached, holding a small baton in his hand. "Stop where you are, witch," he said, giving her a disdainful look. "We're locked down to prevent further incidents against us by outsiders," he said.
She glowered at him. "I am a student of the Academy, am I not?" she asked.
He nodded. "But you're a witch," he said.
"Which is not necessarily a crime, you ass," she growled, taking another step toward him.
He got a hateful look on his face and his hand, bearing the short, weighted club started moving. She reached out with her mind and wrenched control of that arm from him, he slammed that hand down on the stone bannister and the baton went tumbling away.
The young man began to scream out, but she seized control of his vocal cords as well, stopping it in his throat. He then hurled himself out of her way with a flying leap over the bannister to tumble into the shrubs beside the stairs. She opened the door to see two other upperclassmen fleeing down the long corridor. "Cowards," she said. There were disjointed groans from the doorway behind her. Crissa moved down the corridor of the second story like a lioness prowling for prey. A head would poke out of a room head on one side or the other, only to be hastily jerked back inside with a sound of fear and panic.
There were two determined-looking young men standing before the door to Peris' room. Crissa took control of their necks and bounced both young men's heads off the doorframe behind them. They slid quietly to the floor as she opened the door. "Come Peris," she said, "it isn't safe for you here."
Peris sat up from her bed. "How did you - oh, no, Crissa." she said, eyeing the fallen two behind the tall blond.
"They are unhurt," said Crissa, shaking her head. "Or at least mostly so. They WERE holding you against your will, yes?" she asked.
"Yes, they were," said Peris.
"Then I was justified in the force I used to win your release," replied Crissa. Her voice held a coldness in it that was rather frightening to Peris. "We're going somewhere safe."
One of the young men who had been guarding the door was regaining consciousness. Crissa reinstated his slumbering state by grabbing his head and bouncing it off the wall behind him. One of the upperclassmen had a pendant clutched to his chest that glinted as if of precious metal.
Crissa peered closer and saw that it was a symbol of some sort. She pulled on it, and found it was bound about his neck by a chain. "What's this?" she asked Peris. It resembled a pyramid with a burning hand superimposed on the front face of the triangular shape.
"I don't know, some of the upperclassmen wear them, probably one of their ‘secret societies' the school is full of little clubs and such," said Peris, rolling her eyes.
The tall blond made harumphed and stood, taking Paris' arm. She watched alertly for any movement. If the upperclassmen thought she was coming, they were leaving her an open path back to the street. The lad she had hurled into the shrubs was crawling free of them. "Witch!" he screamed, pointing at her. Another of the golden pendants was about this young man's neck, knocked loose by his flip into the bushes.
People on the street were beginning to stare, and some were talking. She grabbed his arm from him again and balled his hand from a pointing finger into a fist, then he punched himself in the face, knocking himself down. Crissa moved like a draft horse, plowing through the gathering people as if they were not there. They moved aside, fearful of both her power and her obvious anger.
Crissa felt fear form Peris as well, and something else, something more feral.
