‘The second reason I have called this meeting is to tender to you my resignation.’ Into the shocked silence which followed, he said, ‘My friends, as you well know, there is one among us whose prowess as a Healer far exceeds my own, or any of us. And though he is not an Elf, nor is he one of our Order, I ask that he agree to allow himself to become elected Prefect of our Order. I have not yet named him, yet most of you know him well, by reputation if not in person. I name him now- James Irving Wallace.’
Doc was speechless, and for perhaps the first time in his life, caught entirely off-guard.
‘Do you accept this responsibility?’ Vries asked him.
Doc stared, unable for a moment to find his voice. ‘Were I a younger man-’
At this, Vries and a few of his companions smiled.
‘I myself have seen seventy-three summers,’ Vries told him. ‘Aga here, well . . . she stopped ageing at thirty or so-’ there were some dry chuckles at this. ‘The youngest member here, Alithæa, is forty-seven.’
‘I can see you accepting my help;’ Doc told them, ‘even accepting me into your Order, if that makes things more official. But why would you want to put me in charge?’