"Me?" Ardasa said, with a laugh. "Influence Rughoi? No . . . surely not. He keeps his own council, and neither I nor his advisors have a good history with changing his mind. Believe me, I've tried. I'm a year older than he is, but that means nothing to him." She quieted down, and stared in silence up at the statue of Arda. It looked back down at her with a strange conviction, one that she was sure wasn't there before. It showed a pride in its face, the pride of the strong mother, who could keep both the snake god Hetuis and the trickster god Scen in check by force of will. "But, supposing there is a way . . . " Ardasa hummed.
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Kutur held up the blue bottle, peering suspiciously at the interior. It was filled with a thick, goopy liquid, that seemed to catch light within it. The insides shook, as if it were alive, a testament to its magical potential. He watched as the other magisters imbibed the liquid, some holding their noses and others crying. He was not feeling good about having to drink it himself. Still, with a couple of deep breaths, he followed suit. The liquid tasted horrible, like sugar so burnt it might as well have become ash. Then, the headache began. He keeled over, eyes blurring. Others around him were doing the same. Either that or desperately trying to throw the potion back up. Exarch Rokkar, whom he had spoken with earlier, was banging his head against the wall and roaring at the ceiling. This was how the vote had to be cast. Now Kutur must make a decision.