Sif nodded, closed her eyes, and took a few breaths. She realized how tense she was, and relaxed. The weave revealed itself to her. She saw the magiker watching her, their power a whirlwind around them.
That gave her an idea. They were luftsmagiker, who controlled the winds. Maybe she could do something like that. She reached out with her mind, focused on a spot a few feet in front of her, and pushed. Nothing much happened.
Hmmm. Well, wind was sort of like water, and you couldn’t really push on water, either. You could control its natural flow, though. She felt the presence of the air in the weave of the world, surrounding her, filling the room. It wafted about without any particular direction. She turned side-on to the watching magiker and leaned forward. The weave moved with her. The draft grew to a breeze, and the breeze grew to a gale.
She let it blow for a few moments, then stood straight and brought it to a halt. She opened her eyes. She couldn’t see under the hoods of the septumvirate, but from the silence filling the room, she suspected they were staring open-mouthed.
After a few seconds, Rasmussen cleared his throat. “Satisfactory,” he said. The woman next to him snorted. “Bring Arnarsson up.”
One of the attendants left. A few minutes later, he and Falthejn returned.