“I think that’s wonderful, My Lord,” she said, “and I’m sure Wiz does too.”
“It’s great,” Wiz agreed. It’s one of the best presents I could have had. Thank you, Malus.”
“That speech has to be the hardest thing I ever did,” Wiz said as they made their way back to their chamber.
Moira squeezed his hand more tightly. “Perhaps it was also the bravest.”
He put his arm around her waist and kissed her. Then he opened the door and ushered her back into their apartment.
“The place looks bare with all my notes and stuff gone,” he said, looking over at the table beneath the window.
“They went to a good home,” Moira told him. Personally she thought it was a great improvement, but she wasn’t going to say so now.
“What have we got to eat? I’m starved and it smells wonderful.”
Moira brought the dishes out of the cupboard where they had been magically kept warm. “I had luncheon sent up from the kitchens. Beef barley soup, roast beef, potatoes and bread and cheese.”
“Heaven.”
Wiz ate ravenously, enough for three normal men. Moira contented herself with a cup of soup and watched him pack the food away.
“Well,” he said pushing away from the table at last, “that was wonderful, but I need to go meet the programmers.”
Moira shook out her mane of copper-colored hair. “I was hoping you could spend some time with me this afternoon,” she said softly.
“I’d like to darling, but I’ve got to get up to speed on this.”
Moira put her arms around his neck. “Won’t it keep for a while?”
“Look, I really do need to get to the team meeting.” Moira melted against him and pressed her lips to his for a long, slow kiss.
“Of course,” he said as the kiss ended, “I could always tell them I was held captive by a wicked witch.”
Moira opened her green eyes wide. “Wicked, My Lord?”
Wiz pulled her to him. “Darling, when you get going you’re the wickedest witch that ever was.”
As always the Council of the North met in the morning. However this time Wiz was sitting in the center of the long wooden table, next to Bal-Simba and he was anything but bored with the proceedings.
” . . . so that’s it,” he concluded. “Unless we can curb the invasion of the Wild Wood and stop people from using demon_debug we are going to have a war.”
For once there were no objections from Honorious, no sniping from Juvian and no clarifications from Agricolus. Every man and woman at the table looked grave.
Juvian, who oversaw the Council’s dealings with the hedge witches, pursed his lips. “All easier said than done, I fear. The villagers prefer demon_debug because it is so effective against magic.”
“ddt is just as effective and a lot less harmful to the environment. We’ve got to get them to use it instead of demon_debug.”
The sorcerer rubbed a pudgy hand over a jowl. “That will not be easy, Lord. We do not have the authority we once had.”
“They’ll listen to you if they ever want another bit of magic out of me,” Wiz said firmly. “Look, this has got to stop. Unless magic is actively dangerous it is not to be destroyed.”
Juvian shook his head. “I do not know, Lord.”
“Just tell them that if they don’t stop, I’ll come there and start throwing lightning bolts.”
“If you wish it we will, of course, but I do not know if they will listen to us.”
“We have got to make them listen.”
“We will do our best Lord, but it will be difficult.”
“Okay,” Wiz sighed, “what about limiting migration then?”
“That is not merely difficult, that is impossible,” Honorious said. “The farms are too small and the soil is too poor. On that the peasants will not listen at all.”
“We don’t have to freeze our boundaries exactly where we are. The part of the Wild Wood closest to the Fringe was human territory once anyway. But we can’t have uncontrolled expansion.”
“Then tell us how to prevent such expansion, Lord.”
“If we don’t prevent it we’ll be at war.”