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.We didn't need the godsanymore.We were the gods.""Yes, so we believed," agreed Alfred, pondering."And being a god was a heavyresponsibility, burdensome or so we told ourselves: ruling over andcontrolling the lives of those weaker than ourselves, depriving them of theirfreedom to determine their paths through life, forcing them to walk the onepath we deemed good.""Yet how we enjoyed it!" said the young man.Alfred sighed."How we enjoyed it.How we enjoy it still and hunger after it!Page 158 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlThat's why it is going to be difficult, so very difficult ""Brethren." A woman, seated at the head of the table, broke in."They arecoming."No tongue spoke a word, only the eyes communicated.Heads turned, each personlooked searchingly at those beside him, receiving strength and reassurance.Alfred saw resolution and fierce joy light the eyes of the young man."Let them come!" he said suddenly."We are not misers, bent on hoarding thegold we have discovered! Let them come and we will share it with them,gladly!"The other young people who were gathered around the table caught fire from theyoung man's torch.Burning with inspiration, they cried out in agreement.Their elders smiled indulgently, sorrowfully.Many lowered their eyelids, notwanting their own bitter knowledge and unfortunate wisdom to snuff out thelife of the bright flame.Besides, thought Alfred, perhaps we are wrong.Perhaps the young are right.After all, why should this be revealed to us if we are not to carry it forth.Sounds could be heard outside the sealed chamber, sounds indicative of manypeople.And it was not the sound of footsteps marching in response to orderand discipline.It was the shuffling, stomping, confused sound ofindiscipline, of chaos and riot, of the mob.The Sartan seated around thetable again exchanged glances, doubtful, questioning.No one can enter this chamber unless we open it.We can stay sealed up in hereforever, reveling in our knowledge, keeping it only for ourselves."Our brother is right," said the eldest Sartan among them.A venerable womanwhose body was frail and fragile as that of a bird's, her indomitable spiritand powerful magic had led them to the marvelous discovery."We have been themiser, hiding our wealth beneath the mattress, living in poverty by day,taking our gold out in the darkness of the night to gaze at it with covetouseyes and then returning it to its hiding place.Like the miser, who does nogood with his gold, we will soon shrivel and dry up inside.It is not only ourresponsibility to share our wealth, it is our joy.Remove the runes ofprotection."It is the right thing to do, I know, thought Alfred, lowering his head.But Iam not strong.I am afraid.A hand closed over his, a hand that was warm and strong and tried to share theconfidence of the self that guided it."They will listen to us," said the young man softly, exultantly."They must!"The bright and beautiful white-blue light faded, dimmed, and died.The soundsbeyond the sealed doors were suddenly louder and far more ominous, sounds ofshouts and jeers, anger and hatred.Alfred's heart quailed.His hand, heldfast in the young man's, trembled.We are right.What we do is right, he kept reminding himself.But, oh, it ishard!The stone doors ground open.The mob burst into the room, those in backshoving those in front of them to reach their goal.The people in front,however, came to a halt, nonplussed by the calm demeanor and grave, solemncountenances of those gathered around the table.A mob feeds off fear.Facedby reason and calm, the mob finds some of its energy begin to drain away.The enraged shouts dwindled to mutterings, broken occasionally by the yell ofsomeone in the back, demanding to know what was happening.Those who hadcrowded into the room, intent on violence, looked foolish and sought amongthemselves for a leader, someone to rekindle the comforting flame of rage.A man stepped forward.Alfred's heart, which had been lifted by a suddenflutter of hope, sank in despair, wings broken.The man was clad in black, oneof those practicing the newly discovered and previously forbidden art ofnecromancy.He was powerful, charismatic, and it was rumored that he wasseeking to set himself up as king.Page 159 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlHe opened his mouth, but before he could speak, the old woman, gazing on himas she might have gazed on an obstreperous child who has just interrupted itselders, asked mildly, "Why have you and your followers disturbed us in ourwork, Kleitus?""Because your work is the work of heretics and we have come to put an end toit," the necromancer answered."Our work here was established by the council "" who deeply regret their actions!" Kleitus sneered.Those standing behind him voiced their approbation.He knew himself to be incontrol, now.Or perhaps, Alfred realized with a sudden flash of terrifyinginsight, Kleitus had been in control all along.His was the spark that hadignited the fire.Now he had only to blow on the coals to create a raginginferno."The council set you the task of contacting the other worlds, to explain tothem our desperate peril and beg them to send the aid promised to us beforethe Sundering.And what was the result? For months you did nothing.Then,suddenly, you come forward prattling nonsense that only a child wouldbelieve ""If it is nonsense," cut in the old woman, her voice smooth and calm, acontrast to the rising, strident tones of her accuser, "then why disturb us?Let us continue on ""Because it is dangerous nonsense!" Kleitus shouted.He lapsed into silence,seeking to gain control over himself.An intelligent man, he knew that wildhacking and slashing was as self-destructive in verbal parry as it was inactual swordplay.His voice, when he spoke, had regained its discipline."Because, unfortunately, there are some of our people who have the guilelessminds of children.And others, like this one." Kleitus's gaze rested on theyoung man.The necromancer's eyes darkened in anger."Young people who havebeen lured into your trap by the bright bauble you dangled in front of them!"The young man said nothing, the hand holding Alfred's tightened its firm grip,the handsome face became more serene.What was this young man to Kleitus? Hecouldn't be his son, Kleitus wasn't old enough to have fathered one this age.Younger brother, perhaps, who had looked to the older brother in worshipbefore finding out the truth? Apprentice to a once-idolized teacher? Itoccurred to Alfred that he didn't know the young man's name.Names had neverbeen important to those gathered around the table.Something told Alfred, deepinside, that he would never know it.And that, somehow, it would not matter
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