“Sorry to interrupt...” Matt said from the doorway of the bedroom.

Kisea, who currently had Kian pinned on the bed under her, looked up and behind her. “More questions?” They'd been visited a few times by Assembly members or chosen experts in search of further information: Kisea had spent several hours talking to a pair of senior mindhealers about exactly what she did and more time with a telepath discussing how her gift had developed and how it worked, there were questions for them all about the trap, and all three alasir-blood had been questioned privately about her.

“Not this time. We've been asked to come to a meeting, as soon as possible.”

“What?” She scrambled off Kian and the bed, throttling the conflicting urge to deal with the sudden spike of panic the opposite way. “They didn't give us much warning!”

“I suppose they assumed you'd be available,” Kian said, sitting up and moving towards the edge of the bed.

“This isn't the time for jokes!”

“It's exactly the time for jokes,” Matt said, catching her hands to pull her close for a kiss. “Everything's going to be all right. They're taking it seriously, otherwise we wouldn't have had so many people through here for the past few days. And if they're actually looking at everything, how can they not see how this has to be? But this isn't the actual hearing, it's something less formal, which is definitely unexpected.”

“Hoping to bargain to keep what you found quiet?” Kian suggested.

“Could be, I suppose, but that's not an acceptable option.”

“No one who knows you would really expect it to be.”

“The only way we'll find out is to go.”

Kisea took a deep breath, and nodded. “Clothes would be helpful.”

Kian ran his gaze along the length of her naked body. “That depends on whether you want them able to think or not, but yes, I suppose so.”

Thanks to the efficient College laundry, all their clothes were clean; with hot water readily available, Kisea had been using baths as an intermittent substitute for sex in distracting herself and keeping her stress levels manageable, and knew all three of her companions were keeping clean, so at least the lack of time for bathing wasn't an issue.

Chemise, bodice, trousers from Kallima or her mother—these ones oak-green—and her boots, and she brushed and braided her hair with hands that trembled.

The Jordan colours, she had to admit, suited alasir-blood colouring: Shon and Kian, both in their red jerkins and dark gold trousers, looked wonderful. Matt, in dark grey trousers and a deep blue tunic, his medallion brightly visible, looked every inch the sorcerer as he swung his cloak around him.

An impression he then thoroughly destroyed by grumbling half under his breath about the latter being twice as much fabric as really necessary.

All in all, though, Kisea figured they actually looked reasonably respectable.

In the corridor, a male human guard in College white and red waited. Kisea sensed nothing in particular from him, just a practicality and focus that suggested that he was simply doing his job as ordered with minimal effort to think about it.

He showed them down to the ground floor, but not out of the building. There were, Kisea knew, several rooms for the use of highborn guests, and one of them was a meeting room similar to the one in which she and Matt had met with the two Assembly representatives, though this one was in shades of cream and brown. The great polished table, ringed by ornate chairs, was much like the other, though. Unlike the other, this room had large crystals spaced precisely along the walls in ornate brass settings, creating an energy field that disrupted all telepathy and empathy.

She'd have liked to be able to feel Matt and Shon and Kian, their presence comforting against her inner senses, but resigned herself to being effectively not a telepath. At least it was only temporary, when it was done this way, and left no secondary damage.

The sorceress Honora was there, and the telepath Chimo, flanking the woman who sat at the end of the table. The berry-purple sheen to her dark burgundy-wine hair gave away mixed siren and alasir blood. That was clue enough that she was a lifewitch even without the round star-less gold medallion that showed an oval of clear greenish amber with a leaf frozen forever inside: First Level, the lifewitch version, which used amber rather than opal but otherwise paralleled the sorcerer system. It was hard to judge lifewitch ages, since they could make at least minor alterations to their own bodies and their gifts generally kept them healthy, but Kisea thought she remembered her being active around the College and working in the infirmary when she was a student here. She was dressed fairly sensibly, but then, lifewitches tended to spend much of their lives active and busy, and elaborate finery would be more inconvenient than it was worth.

The Telepath and Sorcerer Assemblies were each comprised of five people; the lifewitches were so uncommon they lacked their own, but when the Joint Assembly sat, three lifewitches were now always included, and one of them was the Speaker, who took charge of proceedings and could cast the tie-breaking vote. Was this the Speaker?

Along one side of the table were a mismatched trio: a girl in her late teens, her hair deep red, in chemise and leather bodice though her lower body was obscured; another siren-alasir woman, in buttery yellow and a muted blue along with a triangular silver-and-yellow-amber medallion, sharing with the other both dark berry-burgundy hair and those long lean alasir limbs combined with siren curves; a human man with greying hair and lines at the corners of his eyes and mouth, his build rounded enough to suggest his physical activity was limited, but the elaborate dying and embroidery of his clothes drew attention from what Kisea suspected was a practical cut, a telepath crystal at his throat.

At the far end was a siren-blood woman, no silver in her hair, in drab-coloured sensible clothes that served as a form of camouflage, with writing materials arranged neatly in front of her.

“I'm Etanynne,” said the lifewitch at the head of the table. “I'm the current Speaker for the Joint Assembly. One other person requested to be included in anything involving this issue, and I'm sure he'll be joining us in a moment.”

Kisea shivered, groped for Matt's hand. Something very odd was clearly afoot.

“My apologies.” She knew that voice, but even if she didn't, Matt twisting in his chair in surprise would have been a clue. Lord Jordan invited himself into the seat beside Kisea. “Thank you for waiting.”

“You aren't supposed to be here,” Matt said. “This is something I brought to the Assembly on my own, not on your behalf.”

“Hush, nephew. You and your wife are both Jordan residents, and anything off my lands involving you, I have every right to monitor.” Lord Jordan crossed his arms casually on the table, looked at the Speaker. “Milady?”

“Thank you.” Kisea got the distinct impression that the Speaker was amused by the exchange. “I'm sorry for the short notice, but we have a complex situation and your presence was specifically requested.” The Speaker inclined her head to Matt and Kisea. “Which, all things considered, I would have done myself. Everyone present is aware that Matt handed the Assembly a mass of evidence that is difficult to accept and which has left us scrambling to collect enough additional information to make an informed decision. You have both been very patient with the repeated and sometimes invasive questioning, and we appreciate that.”

“It's in our best interests for you to have accurate information,” Matt said.

“I would say we now have more accurate information about how the controller gift works and about the erroneous belief that controllers are born only once per generation than we have had in a very long time, if ever. We had planned to keep the information restricted to the Assembly and those acting on our behalf and directly interested parties until we could reach conclusions to share. However, three days ago, copies of the entire collection of evidence originally presented were released to the student body of the College and to the relay telepath network. No one is accusing you of anything. We currently have no idea who released it, and tracking the source is a low priority. Of much higher priority is that the student body is currently refusing to attend classes along with causing significant disruption on the campus and in the city, and the relay telepaths are refusing to work, in both cases until their concerns are addressed. This, therefore, is an informal chance to discuss those concerns, though everything said will be officially recorded.”

Kisea traded quick glances with Matt. Someone released the information? They certainly couldn't have done it themselves.

“The lifewitches collectively,” the Speaker added, “have taken an interest in this and wish to be heard officially as well. So. Which of you would like to begin?”

The trio across the table looked at each other; the lifewitch gestured invitingly.

“Go ahead,” the man said.

The young siren nodded. “I'm Nitarai. To make this as brief as possible, we as students, telepath and sorcerer and lifewitch, accept that accidents and illness happen, and that there is not always a lifewitch nearby and that some things lie beyond even lifewitches. However, even the possibility that the people who are supposed to be teaching and guiding us might be culling us like livestock in secret is making us all feel much less than safe. We're left wondering what sets of criteria might add up to a covert death sentence for any of us. We feel, strongly, that we should be able to trust our teachers to encourage and guide us no matter what gifts we might manifest, and that no student should ever feel so threatened that life as a renegade becomes the safer option.”

Kisea tightened her hand around Matt's, and he squeezed back. Oh, what have we started?

“And the students are asking...?” Etanynne prompted.

“That the entire Joint Assembly, publicly and under truthspell cast by someone not directly affiliated with the Assembly, answer a negotiable list of questions specifying whether students are being murdered in secret. We also want future assurances that all students will be treated equally and judged on their behaviour, not what gift they were born with. Specific assurances are negotiable, but have to include addressing the current Oath being incompatible with some gifts.”

“Those appear to be quite reasonable terms to address quite understandable concerns,” the Speaker said thoughtfully. “Thank you, Nitarai.”

Yes, they are understandable, under the circumstances anyone would feel threatened, but who released all that information to the entire student body?

And who would have thought of a thousand or so students as having the power to make themselves heard and force an accommodation?

“Garrick?” the Speaker said.

“Garrick Thorsten,” said the man. Thorsten was one of the smaller human Lordships; a younger son or a cousin, presumably. “I'm one of Perifaithe's primary relay telepaths. I can't claim that the relays are unanimous, but we do have an overwhelming majority as far as three key concerns. One is much like that of the students. We are not comfortable sending our children, grandchildren, nieces and nephews, their playmates and friends, or any other child, into a situation where they might be in danger from the people we're entrusting their safety to.”

“Indeed,” Lord Jordan murmured. “My younger daughter, as well.”

“Exactly.” Garrick nodded. “Highborn or low, we won't be sending our children to a place they might be tried and executed in secret. However, it isn't solely about the students. We'll concede it might be negligence rather than malice, that there seem to be far more controllers than we were told but they aren't acknowledged, but that leaves them to survive or not in a world where they will feel like everyone is against them. That opens the way to criminal activity based around a gift not even acknowledged to exist, which means no useful countermeasures. This, we feel, is a highly dangerous state of affairs. We also would like to know for sure whether the Assembly considers itself to have the right and authority to pass sentence of death in secret, without trial, based on highly questionable standards, in which case no telepath and possibly no sorcerer or lifewitch is safe. If there is question whether our children are expendable for showing signs of a particular gift, how can we trust that anyone who is inconvenient is not at risk?”

Oh we really stirred things up badly.

A part of Kisea's mind danced gleefully.

“Obviously the relays are of vital importance to all Caalden,” Etanynne said. “What action would reassure you?”

“There, I'll second the students again. Questioning under truthspell would be, at least, an excellent beginning. If no one on the Assembly has anything to hide on this subject, that should be a quick and easy solution.”

Oh gods, they're going to keep the relays shut down until the Assembly is questioned. The students are bad enough, if they're running wild through the College and the city, but without the relays, Caalden will start to collapse in a matter of days...

They've left the Assembly absolutely no choice.

“Thank you, Garrick. Olisai?”

The Third-level lifewitch inclined her head. “I'm Olisai Liriu, and I speak on behalf of the lifewitches collectively. Until no more than fifty years ago, lifewitches were renegades, seen as monsters interested only in experimenting on the innocent. It cost blood and tears and lives to gain recognition that only a small minority behave in antisocial ways and that the rest of us prefer to live in peace with our neighbours or even devote our lives and our gifts to healing. We see an alarming similarity between our own history and the present situation of anyone born with the controller gift, and we find that deeply troubling. Evidence suggests that they can do for minds what we can do for bodies, which only strengthens the parallel. Any gift can be used for good or ill, the difference being in the choices of the gifted. We do not accept that any gift has an inevitable effect on the mental stability of the gifted, as it has been claimed about us falsely and there is no reliable evidence supporting the idea in regards to any other gift. We feel very strongly that controllers should have the same opportunity any other mage does to demonstrate what choices they will make before being judged, and that they be offered the same support and guidance in youth to help them make those choices without fear. We have, currently, no demands, but we do want our position on the issue to be clear and officially noted.”

Kisea clutched Matt's hand more tightly. She hadn't even thought of the lifewitches as being similar, let alone that they would care. Her own experience with any form of prejudice was that being the target didn't mean one wasn't prone to inflicting other forms of prejudice on others, often even more savagely. That the lifewitches had decided to support her left her too astonished to even formulate a reaction in her own head; it was just too unexpected, and after so long hiding, somehow deeply touching.

She took a slow deep breath, then another. Breaking into tears now would not help. Nor would running to Olisai to hug her and babble her gratitude.

Matt looked sideways at her, smiled, and gave her hand a squeeze.