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The throne room was so quiet a thief's soft breathing would be detected. It had been swarming with Winding Circle's mages and their students, earlier that day, as they contributed to one of the most powerful workings in living memory. But now, the body of work was finished, and the bleat-brained had been cleared away so that they could adjust everything..
Briar could feel the pool of magic anchored in the crystals four floors beneath, in the dungeon. Daja had, earlier, shifted magma and rock in order to make room for a flood of power. It wasn't his magic, and he couldn't touch it; Sandry, however, could do so, and had been weaving together the various spells for the past few days.
Now there was only fine-tuning, and after the power passed through Sandry's hands, Briar could feel it.
'Three minutes,' Tris sent, and through her eyes, Briar could see the storm they planned to capture approaching, green and blue with the natural magic of the Pebbled Sea. Wind and rain whipped against Tris, heralding its arrival; the roar of the elements felt like a slap in the face after the unnatural quiet of the throne room. He saw the thunderheads rolling and cackling, saw the funnels of hurricanes forming bridges between the sea in the harbor and stormy sky.
They were planning to bend a storm's path.
'Briar.' Sandry's voice felt like the softest wool as she beckoned for him to help sort out a final knot.
'We wouldn't want to let the storm feed on itself,' Briar agreed absently; Daja's magma-moat would barely be enough of a channel to let the storm's power float out, as it was.
Daja, who had been the only one conscious during the fire in their twenty-seventh year that had left Briar with a permanent limp, shifted out of the crushing pressure of metals, in order to send a slow, steady agreement. It was that steadiness that meant she was to be their root, but Daja's slow replies could be misleading. She could be as fast as quicksilver, and it was for that very reason that Daja would be the one to handle the largest load of power.
There was a tug, a shift, and Briar felt the last of the pattern-magic smooth out, and blaze with sudden light as Sandry fed it the magic tied to the magma. They were ready for the storm to arrive.
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