All along both sides of the long table are seated the mages of Babel's Guild Hall. Everyone is here, from the senior master mages to the journeymen, and even the three apprentices who intern at this hall, rather than learning on Caroban with the vast majority of the students. There are not that many of them, especially compared to the House of the Crafters and Seekers at its heyday. Most of the Spheres only have one or two representatives, though there are four Earth mages and three of Fire. Of the Sphere of Dream, there isn't even one mage.

Looking around, Rory recognizes several faces, though some of them he's never been introduced to. There's Josh, the lanky Eeee apprentice, sitting next to the black-furred Cyprian, who sits with his hands resting on the table, gazing at nothing, his short hair looking recently brushed but persistently unruly.

The young, beige-furred Life mage Tanieta fidgets in her seat, rustling her wings occasionally. Nuri bar Emmanuel, one of the Fire mages, sits next to her, glowering at the table as if already angry over something. The other two Fire mages – a Fnerf and a Kattha – sit on the opposite end of the table, whispering to each other and to one of the Earth mages that sits near them.

The friendly Jupani Gusty, the Hall's sole Air mage, sits next to his uncle, Mage Builder of the sphere of Earth, and another Jupani wearing the black robes of Illusion. Rory's senior, an old Eeee Shadow mage, Betzalel, sits not far off, along with a Fnerf Water mage Rory doesn't know by name. The Chaos mage, a crazy Rhian who wears a strange sort of crown, has a seat by herself.

At the head of the table, the House Master Jeremiah waits, an old illusionist with a lined face and gold-embroidered black robes. A few more mages still trickle in.

Rorschach Stormshadow of the Sphere of Shadow sits, back straight, mouth firmly shut, eyes wide and frequently scanning, on Tanieta's right, with the life mage between him and Nuri bar Emmanuel. He occasionally peeks around at Nuri, looking at him with adulation and awe, and taking in every frown, every expression on the bat's face as a sign of grave import, since he's decided that Nuri is a Hero.

The last of the stragglers takes a seat, and the House Master clears his throat, standing. "I am sure you all know why we are here, but I will say it again, in any case. The Yodhbarada would give nothing for the knowledge that the Guild Hall here in Babel has seen much better days. We have not faced a situation so grave in almost six years. The situation in Babel is deteriorating, and few who remain here can afford the College's prices for our services. Caroban has kept the Hall open thus far in deference to tradition. But in light of the recent and very personal dangers we are in, I – and the High Council on Caroban – believe it is time to re-consider that position.

"I am not here to tell you that a decision has been made – one hasn't. The High Council waits first to see what we have to say. And that is what we will determine here today. I know that we all have an opinion on this matter, and this afternoon, whatever your position or tenure, you may speak it." The House Master sits again. "Who would like to begin?"

Rory looks about. He's not bold enough to pop up and make his opinions known on the matter. In fact, he's not even wholly sure just what they are, as divided as he is between his desire to see things somehow get better in Babel … and his desire that none of the mages get hurt trying to accomplish such things, either. So he bides his time, curious to see who will start off.

Nuri bar Emmanuel stands almost as soon as the House Master sits down, and a moment later, a female Eeee Fire mage with patterns dyed into her fur is standing, too. Neither of them look at the other. The House Master glances between them, looking, in that moment, very old indeed. Mage Builder stands, too. After a pause, the illusionist says, "Bar Emmanuel." The other two resume their seats, the Fire mage watching Nuri coolly.

The tall, gaunt mage takes a deep breath, nodding to the House Master. "We should not leave," he says, flatly. "The College's presence in Babel goes back centuries. No, we're not what we were, and neither is Babel. But running away won't fix anything."

The unicorn smiles at this. He's not completely set on just what the right solution is, but hearing Nuri say this makes him feel all the more confident that running away is a bad thing to do. He strongly resists the urge to hop up and shout, "Yeah!" as he's pretty sure that would do little to add to the weight of the Fire mage's argument.

During the silence that follows, the female Fire mage at the other end of the table stands again. "We can't live in the past, bar Emmanuel. And if we stay here, we won't be able to live in the present, either. We have sacrificed enough for this city – to this city. It is time to cut our losses."

And to this, of course, Rory frowns. He scans about to see who else is hopping up, strongly tempted to say something now … even if it just makes him look stupid.

Nuri glowers at the woman. "I am not leaving," he says. "I have lived here all my life. I did not leave when the boomer struck, I did not leave when the Royal Babelite Mages were working their ritual, I did not leave when the High Princess was slain and the city feel into chaos. I will be damned if I leave now, over a handful of gangers and rabble-rousers. I will be damned if I let the likes of these petty tyrants and Yodhrephath chase me from my home."

"Then be damned," the other Fire mage snaps. "But don't drag the rest of us down with you."

"Seraphae," the House Master begins, warningly.

"You said we could have our say. Let me have mine," she says. "I've had enough of this city, its people and its riots. Why must we be the Guild Hall at Babel? It's not even as if tradition calls us back to this tower, unless you would call six years a 'tradition.' I am sure Zahirinee would offer us a home within his domain, and there we would be among a peaceful people who hold mages in respect, not contempt."

The unicorn frowns at this. "That's kinda far away," he whispers, unthinkingly voicing his thoughts this time, then putting a sleeve back over his muzzle and waiting to see how this exchange goes on…

There's some murmuring at this, and Rory's comment goes unnoticed among it. Nuri repeats, "I will not leave," then sits again.

Seraphae says, "I will."

The Fire mage next to her nods in agreement. "Mage Seraphae is right. Staying in Babel is nothing short of folly. The city does not want us here. Why would we want to stay?"

Rory hops up now, glancing to Nuri, then to the House Master.

The Jupani illusionist seemed about to interject something, but he pauses when Rory gets to his feet, and the House Master nods to the little unicorn. "Journeyman Rorschach."

The unicorn swallows hard, then says, "I don't care if it's folly. Nuri bar Emmanuel is a brave man. He was going to go out and hold off the rioters all by himself, and probably get gished because of it, to buy us more time! He cares that much about people. And if he can be brave, I want to be brave, too. I may not make lots of shekels being here, but if we can help people, maybe they'll get the idea and help each other, too. There are a lot of nice people here in Babel, and I want to stay and help. I don't want anybody to get hurt, but I also don't want us to all give up and let Babel go splat when the towers start falling over!"

Cyprian, who had been gazing, eyes unfocused, at one of the fountains, turns his eyes to the unicorn as Rory speaks. He applauds, quietly, moving to stand himself. "Journeyman Rorschach has the heart of it. He and Mage Tanieta have given this city something to hope for. Some of those 'gangsters' look to us now for a role model. What message does it send to them if we leave? What hope for Babel, then?"

Nuri, whose face has been set and harsh in expression, breaks into a grin at the end of Rory's speech, and nods to Cyprian's statement. He surreptitiously forms the Savanite sign for Way to go! at the unicorn.

Rory's black and white face now has a good deal of red joining it in the ears, as he abruptly bows (for lack of any idea how else to end his mini-speech), and quickly ducks back down into his seat, scrunching down to try to make himself very small as he tries to contain his embarrassment.

"That's all well and good, folks," the Jupani illusionist interjects, rising. "But the College isn't a charity operation, and most of us still have our dues to pay. And let's face it, people, none of us are bringing in the kind of money we used to. The Earth mages may still have plenty of work, but the cash isn't there now. When was your last job, Gusty? I haven't had one in ten days. There's not enough nobles here to justify one illusionist, never mind two. And what about Mage Fanta? We're under-utilized here."

The unicorn lacks any counter for that, and just keeps himself seated. Helping people is all well and good, he thinks, but he has no idea how to pay for it…

The House Master stands. "Mage Kris has a valid point. Even if the Guild Hall stays open, those of us whose services are in little demand will likely be sent elsewhere. We cannot afford to maintain our current level of our expenditures, given our income."

Cyprian says, "A Guild Hall has need of every sphere. We complement each other. It is folly to say that the Spirit – or Dream – mages are not needed, simply because the laity has not asked for their services."

"Yeah, and how's your clientele looking, Cyp?" Mage Kris asks. "I sure don't see you working as much as you used to, either." The Mind mage doesn't turn to answer the Jupani – instead, his green eyes watch the House Master.

"That is the theory," the old Eeee replies. "But we live in reality, Mage Cyprian, not a textbook. Already, Caroban has suggested that Apprentice Josh return to the College to finish his apprenticeship."

"You could always lower your standards, Cyp," Kris says, in a way plainly intended to needle. "I'm sure some of the Yodh could still afford for you to do that ritual on criminals – what was it called – "

"No." Cyprian tenses his jaw.

Kris gives a grin and a shrug. "There ya go, then."

"Be that as it may," Master Jeremiah attempts to get the conversation back on track, "there is still the matter to decide of whether any of us will be staying in Babel."

The little unicorn chews on his lip, shrinking down now not out of embarrassment, but out of the mean turn that the exchange between Kris and Cyprian seems to be taking.

The Rhian Chaos mage stands. "We do not see the need for all of this debate," she pronounces. "The telling point has already been made. Babel has attacked us, not once, but twice, in just the last two holidays. We are not safe here. How long before the rocks of rioters come crashing through this window?"

At those words, Mage Builder gets to his feet. He picks up the chair he was sitting on, and, much to everyone's surprise, hurls at the near window, the one the Chaos mage indicated. Several mages jump to their feet, shouting –

– as the chair bounces back from the window, which is unharmed. "A long time," Mage Builder replies, with a grunt, pulling up another chair to sit once more. "We've put a lot of work into this place, lately. I don't want to see it go to waste."

Rory overcomes his shock at what he for a moment thought was Mage Builder going berserk, then, when he sees it's just a demonstration of the reinforcements of the window, giggles quietly, then stands up, too, looking expectantly to the House Master.

The House Master is smiling at the demonstration, but Mage Seraphae shakes her head. "Safety isn't about how many held spells you carry each day, or what kind of fortress you live in, or how many armed guards or gangsters you've got on your side. True safety lies in avoiding trouble. It doesn't matter what spells we use. The people here are not our friends. We will never be safe here."

Gusty grinned at his uncle's demonstration, but when Seraphae spoke, he sobered, scratching behind one ear. "I hate to admit it, but she's got a point. There are a lot of them, and just a few of us. As long as it's 'us against them,' we're gonna be in trouble, even if we do have the heavy artillery on our side."

Rory now waves his sleeve about, trying to get the House Master's attention.

Jeremiah nods to Rorschach. "Go ahead."

"Uhm," Rory starts, "I don't mean to argue or anything, but we do have friends here, and Mage Tanieta's probably got lots just from all her visits to the clinics. I made a new friend when I went to leave candy for Skiree at the Wound Monument. She's Dinahzadze, and she lost her brother when the Boomer went off. Any road, she's going to throw a New Year's Eve party because she thinks we really ought to find something to celebrate for the New Year, rather than letting that nasty Rockmore squish all the fun with his Boomer. Oh, and she invited me, and all the Mages' Guild is invited, too, though I know, of course, it'd be silly if all us went, but I'm sure she wouldn't complain anyway. They've built up this big snow airship on Mount Dronnel for the party, and we're going to throw water-bursters at a dummy of Rockmore and do other stuff. I can tell you all about it after the meeting if you're interested."

The entire room takes a moment to react to this revelation, and a few mages are giving Rory that "Who-let-the-kid-in-here-this-is-grown-up-talk" look he's all too familiar with. Cyprian and some of the others simply look shocked. Mage Fanta's exclamation of disbelief cuts through over a sudden general burst of talk from different mages, and seems to capture the essence of their reaction. "A party? On New Year's?"

"Yes," Nuri states, loudly over the noise of the others, to support the young unicorn. "And a good idea it is."

Mage Kris snorts a laugh. "Won't argue with you there. This town could use a party. It'd at least be good for my business."

Rory's ears flick into various positions at the different responses from the mages. It's not that it's a total surprise to him, really … but at Mage Nuri's and Mage Kris's reactions, he ventures a hopeful smile. "I … I'll bring candy! And … I'll be doing shadow plays, too. It'll be lots of fun! Though, you'll need to dress warm, since it'll be up on the mountain and all, and having Fire mages warm things up would probably melt the snow airship."

"Snow airship?" Cyprian repeats, faintly. The House Master is smiling, and trying to hide his smile behind one hand. Several mages are looking at the Mind mage now, as if they expected something particularly interesting in his reaction.

"And like I told Mage Tanieta, one of Dinahzadze's friends is gonna have a couple of green glowy-balls on his head for eyes, and I'm going to make him a shadow-silhouette so he looks like the tall dark and handsome Avenger who goes and beats up Rockmore and gives him what for! Of course, that means I'll be too busy to throw water-bursters, but maybe they'll save some for me. And, you know, Illusionists would be great, because, well, you could make the snow airship look, you know, real… " Emboldened by what he presumes to be a more favorable reaction, Rory just rolls along.

The attention of the room, by this point, is about half split between those staring at Rory, and those with eyes fixed on Cyprian. Kris's shoulders convulse with silent laughter, and a few others seem inordinately amused, too. For his part, as Rory gives his description of the Avenger, Cyprian fixes his green eyes on the tapestry on the wall opposite him, his ears flattened back against his head. Tanieta watches the Mind mage with a strange expression on her face, a kind of grim, angry smile.

Rory looks around, seeing the expression on Tanieta's face … and any enthusiasm he had quickly drains away. "Uhm … but … I … can tell you more … later. Sorry. I'll … uhm … pipe down now." He sits down in his chair, and casts a worried look up at the healer.

The House Master clears his throat. "Very good, Journeyman," he says, covering the awkwardness of the ensuing silence. "As Rorschach says, we need not be quite so paranoid. We are not friendless in this city."

There's a general murmur of concurrence, grudging and otherwise, from the assembled mages. Rory's Shadow mage senior coughs. "Still more enemies than friends," he mutters.

The meeting returns to the discussion of the fate of the Guild Hall. The two main camps form between those, like Nuri, Cyprian, and Rory, who emphatically want to stay, and those, like Seraphae and Kris, who want to leave either for reasons of personal safety or economic interests.

Several mages, particularly Mage Fanta, the third Fire mage, and the Water mage, Ryllyn, seem particularly interested in Seraphae's suggestion that they leave for Zahirinee's lands. When Tanieta finally speaks, however, she sides with Nuri and Rory, supporting their desire for the Guild Hall to remain in Babel. Others have little to say, only looking sad and sober as the afternoon wears on into evening. When the House Master finally brings the issue to a vote, the margin narrowly supports remaining, and Jeremiah shakes his head. "I will report to Caroban all that we have discussed here. I do not wish for anyone who does not want to stay to be forced to do so, and I doubt any one else does, either. Those who wish to transfer elsewhere may speak with me privately, and I will implore the High Council to honor those requests … as well as the wishes of those who would continue our work here."

Cyprian closes his eyes when the House Master speaks, nodding in weary agreement as he leans against the table. Tanieta, curiously, shares much the same reaction, while Nuri stands, serious and determined. Many of those who spoke against staying look relieved by the final qualification, and then look guilty for looking relieved. Seraphae, however still seems grim and angry, as she's one of the first to head for the door.

Nuri stops her by the exit. "No one's going to make you stay, Mage Seraphae," he tells her. "You'll be able to save your own skin. Isn't that what you want?"

Seraphae glares at him. "You don't get it, do you? You just don't get it. Do you think this is just about me? About money? Do you think I don't care? Do you think I want to watch you get torn to pieces by the next mob that comes along?" She gasps for breath as she gets out the last sentence, blinking quickly. Turning her head away, she stalks out the door.

Lamely, Rory calls after Seraphae, "B-but … you can still stay long enough to come to the party can't you?" He just stands there, hands hanging to the side, looking forlornly after her, his own mind entertaining scenarios where a mob comes to vent their frustrations on the mages, this time not led by a single rabble-rouser so easily talked down, this time without a small gang sufficient to turn them away. He sighs dejectedly. "It'll be fun … honest," he says quietly.