Mistress of the Empire by Raymond E. Feist, Janny Wurts

current events, they were not among the majority. These newly sworn had joined the Assembly during the upheavals caused by the force known as the Enemy that had endangered both their own world of Kelewan and that of Midkemia, beyond the rift. The massive threat to two civilizations had necessitated a move by the Magicians to aid the Emperor Ichindar to seize absolute rule of the Nations, that internal bickering not weaken the land in time of larger crisis. The newest of the mages might be enamored of using their powers to influence the sway of events. But to the elders of the Assembly, who were set in their individual ways and courses of scholarly study, intervention in Tsurani politics was looked on as bad form; a bothersome chore only performed at dire need.
    To a still-smaller faction, headed up by Hochopepa and Shimone, once close acquaintances of the barbarian magician Milamber, the recent departures from traditional rule were of interest for deeper reasons. Exposure to Midkemian thought had prompted them to view the affairs of Tsuranuanni in a changed light, and since the Lady Mara was currently the linchpin of Ichindar’s support, these war tidings were of particular concern.
    An old practitioner of Tsurani politics of all stripe, Hochopepa raised a chubby hand to his face and closed his dark eyes in forbearance. ‘As you predicted,’ he murmured to the reed-thin, ascetic Shimone. ‘Trouble, when the Nations can least afford the price.’
    Taciturn as ever, Shimone made no reply, but watched with hawk-keen scrutiny as several of the more impulsive magicians surged to their feet, indicating their desire to speak. Hodiku singled out a young Black Robe namedSevean and pointed. The one selected stepped forward onto the central floor while the others sat.
    Barely a year past his initiation to mastery of magic, Sevean was fast on his feet, quick-spoken, and inclined to be impulsive. He would leap to outspoken conclusions where other, more seasoned colleagues would wait to hear the thoughts of less experienced members before revealing their opinions. He raised a voice too loud by half for the sensitive acoustics of the hall. ‘It is widely believed that Jiro had his hand in the death of the Good Servant’s son.’
    Which was no news at all; Shimone turned his mouth down in a faint curl of disgust, while Hochopepa muttered just loud enough for half the room to hear, ‘What, has he been listening in on Isashani’s sitting room again, taking in the social gossip?’
    Shimone gave no answer to this; like many of the elder magicians, he considered using powers to look in on the affairs of individual nobles as the lowest level of crass behavior. Sevean was embarrassed by Hochopepa’s remark and by the harsh looks from several of the elder members. Left at a loss for words, he curtailed his speech, repeating, ‘It is widely believed.’
    More magicians vied for the First Speaker’s attention. Hodiku made a choice among them, and as a slow-spoken, ponderously built initiate droned out his irrelevant viewpoint, more experienced magicians spoke quietly among themselves, ignoring all but the gist of his speech.
    A mage two seats to the rear of Hochopepa and Shimone, whose name was Teloro, inclined his head toward the others. ‘What is the real issue, Hocho?’
    The plump magician sighed and left off twiddling his thumbs. ‘The fate of the Empire, Teloro. The fate of the Empire.’
    Teloro bridled at this vagueness. Then he revised his firstimpression: the stout magician’s bearing might betray no concern, but his tone rang with deep conviction.
    Both Shimone and his stout companion seemed fixed on a discussion the other side of the hall, where several magicians held private counsel. As the current speaker sat, and a round-shouldered man from this whispering cadre stood up, Teloro heard Hochopepa mutter, ‘Now we’ll begin to see how this round of the game is to be played.’
    Hodiku motioned to the man, who was slender