Both men looked abashed, causing a pair of strolling guards to stare after them with momentary uncertainty. Had they been strangers, or even wellknown visitors, they would have been stopped and held for questioning. Instead, the guards snapped into salute and kept their own counsel regarding the odd expressions on the faces of prince and noble hero. Those of such exalted station were simply above the understanding of others, their reasoning must have gone.

"Better that we speak aloud," Gellor said when they were out of earshot of the armed sentries.

"Much better," Gord muttered. "I hate being a child again," he added. As if understanding fully what his friend referred to, the grizzled troubador merely nodded and sighed. Gord could well understand that too, for the feeling in Gellor must be compounded due to his greater number of years. Wondering carefully to himself about whether or not familiarity with enspellments eased the shock of such a new situation. Gord led the way into the secluded room where the leaders of the coalition representing neutrality and equilibrium held conclave.

Formalities were dispensed with. All present knew full well who was who and what particular status was due from and to each respectively. None of that mattered at this time. All of those in the council understood that if events went on unchecked, the present course would lead to their extinction as powers, perhaps extinction in literal terms as well. The chamber was packed with the greatest powers of neutrality — eighteen with actual deityhood, twice that number of quasideities and other personages. Gord and Gellor were informally greeted, and discussion began immediately. Champion and hero were at the very least regarded as peers of these great ones. Perhaps they were above all, at least for the time being.