The council of wise men was in session. The members' seats were arranged so that the accused stood in the middle of the room and had to look up at them. They passed their sentences from their seats undetected by black robes and in the light of only a few candles. Whoever was summoned here usually left their ranks or became one of them. The council tolerated no misconduct and no excuses. Their judgment was for eternity and for all. For the good of all, they were to protect the laws of their realm. It hit them all the harder that they now had to ask one of the outcasts for help, since their own law tied their hands.

 

"Why should I help you old rotting sacks?" Arrogant as ever, Havir looked

 

at the council leader, unimpressed by their power. After all, he'd been here so many times it was almost a ritual.

 

"Because it is your duty as a mage to protect the community." The air vibrated with suppressed anger on the part of the council. They had all known that persuading Havir would not be easy, but his indifference to his brothers and sisters sent them into sheer rage.

 

"If I remember correctly, you freed me from this nice little community two hundred years ago, shall we say?" a grin slid across his lips. Havir knew he could only win in these negotiations. The senior citizens association wanted something from him and he wasn't going to work for free, that much was certain, although curiosity had gotten the best of him. Whatever the pensioners wanted, it had to be illegal, or they would hardly have come for him.

 

"I could turn you to ash."

 

"Well, well, not that you'll have a heart attack grandpa. By the way Maleke, I'd recommend a rejuvenation spell again." The angry whispers filled the room. The council members gave it up. They pulled their hoods off their heads and lit the room with a snap of their fingers with sunlight. 

 

Havir's only thought was that the old grotto was in dire need of a paint job.

 

"From the day you were born, you were a nuisance to us all ..." Ransur, his greatest advocate, pointed angrily.

 

"... Frankly, I have no intention of changing that either. Let's face it, if it weren't for me, you wouldn't even know what to do, here in your hobby cellar."

 

"Hobby cellar?! You insolent ...I'll get you!" threateningly, Ransur raised his hands to turn him into a pile of ashes.

 

"Enough!" The voice of Woltarus the Chairman shook the walls and made even Havir look up at him, albeit with a raised brow.

 

"What do you want?" Woltarus just wanted to get this matter and this conversation over with, he was deeply disappointed in his former master student. 

 

"Counter question, what do you want me to do for you?" a greedy glint entered Havir's eyes.

A long sorrowful sigh, suddenly the most powerful of the mages looked centuries older and regarded him dejectedly.

 

"A prisoner has escaped and stolen the Book of Salam in the process." Havir whistled through his teeth. So the oh-so-great mages of the high council had had the holy grail stolen. He literally itched to ask if his "dear" sisters and brothers knew about it ...

 

"Nothing has reached the community yet, but we will not be able to hide it for long. Therefore, we ask you to bring it back to us, along with the thief, to bring him to his just punishment." There was sincere concern for the well-being of the community in the old mage's eyes, and Havir guessed that Ransur would probably finally get someone he could turn to ash.

 

Whoever had managed to escape from the glass tower had to be a master of his arts, and so Havir guessed it was going to be damn dangerous for his shapely butt

 

"What are you offering?" Everything had a price, especially risking his unscathed beauty.

 

"We'll take you back into the fold." Well, that would be a first in history, but he wasn't falling for that trick, next week they would kick him out again. He wanted something solid.

 

"Denied."

 

"Free access to the shrine's library." Pah, they could keep the old hams.

 

"No."

 

"The writings of Baslar, the most valuable of our collection." This was getting worse.

 

"Which is full of dust and spelling mistakes." In the face of such insolence, the council was adorned with blushes of anger. Not a few would rather roast him and write off the book in return, the longer the negotiations dragged on, or rather his impertinences.

 

Woltarus made one last attempt.

 

"The heart of a star." A wild, indignant clamor of voices rose. Havir could not believe his ears. Like all mages under a thousand, he had thought it was a legend. The heart of a star gave its owner eternal youth, beauty and unspeakable powers. Well, beautiful enough it was, even unspeakably beautiful, but eternal youth and unspeakable powers didn't sound bad to his ears for a start. Now it was just a matter of making sure they didn't trick him.

 

"Swear to me that I will own the heart of the star when I bring you the thief and the old ham." Waiting, he looked to Woltarus.

 

"I swear as council leader and mage that the Heart of the Star will belong to the mage Havir if he returns here with what is requested." Havir nodded in satisfaction. That was worth risking his beautiful face for. 

 

 

"Don't you dare bamboozle me!" With that, with a final grin, he disappeared from the midst of the Mage Council.

 

"You know it's forbidden to cut out a star's heart. The Goddess would have us ..." Talor the second oldest mage of the council, looked at his old friend Woltarus shaking his head.

 

"I never spoke of cutting out the poor child's heart." The smile of an old wise fox slid across the wrinkled, bearded face. Talor began to understand and joined in. He, much like his friend, had a small soft spot for the rebellious mage. But he was equally aware, at the time of his banishment, that Havir's powers would overtake even those of the oldest in a few centuries, which would have endangered them all, at his self-absorbed egotism, with which he had sunk two human cities at once, because they supposedly had not admired him enough. 

 

Relaxed, the friends sat back and hoped for the grace of the gods in their plan. While in the hall about it was whispered quietly to replace Woltarus slowly because of dementia. The latter, however, ignored this and stroked his beard. Yes, his small trick would please not only him with the dissolution as long as Talor, the old gossip woman could keep something for itself. Sighing, he admitted to himself that he would have to watch him for quite a while.