'You know, Tanrel thinks the Council let you in for political reasons, that they wanted to impress Nerys and her pet interest groups by trotting out a woman in white robes. Halaros thinks Archmage Bringham is just a dramatic showman who wanted credit for making history. I think his wants aren't half so complicated.' Renthorn's eyes flicked significantly over Sciona's skirt and bodice. 'Though I do feel he could do a little better than you.'

For a moment, Sciona's vision blanked. White-hot rage had started in her chest and nearly boiled over into a scream, but she froze it, made herself ice-cold. [...]

'You assume I don't have the skill to be here. [...] Well, you and I are both putting forward sourcing plans for the barrier extension in eleven weeks. We'll see whose work the archmages ends up using and who turns out to be the pointless political hire.'

Renthorn's sneer deepened. 'Alright sweetheart, no need to get defensive.' [...]

Before Sciona could respond, he turned and strode from the library, leaving her glowering at his white-robed back. She would do more than take his stupid joke, she decided; she would grip it tight and fashion it into greatness he couldn't fathom.

She swept back into her office like a stormfront, dour and crackling with energy.

'Tommy!' she snapped.

The Kwen looked up from where he was nearly done shelving her books. 'Ma'am?'

'Leave the rest of the boxes. We have work to do.'