Текст книги "The Raven Collection"

Автор книги: James Barclay

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 149 (всего у книги 235 страниц)

Chapter 16

Dystran hadn’t really slept at all. At best, a few hours’ edgy rest, broken by those damned elven-controlled panthers. There was something about the noise they created. Unearthly, somehow, it drove shivers to the core of them all. Broke their dreams. They were the enemy’s most potent psychological weapon though they didn’t seem to realise it. Dystran would have have had them calling all night. As it was, the alarm, when it came in the early hours of the morning, was almost a relief.

He’d agreed the defence plan with Commander Chandyr on the city walls and Captain Suarav in the college guard during the previous day and so dressed unhurriedly before leaving his tower and descending the long spiral stairs, past his guards and disabled static alarms and blocks.

Myx was waiting at the base of the tower. The huge Protector, like fifteen of his brothers, was being used more for city-wide and battle communications than protection. Dystran knew the humiliation they felt but he had no time for guilt.

‘News,’ he demanded.

Myx fell into step next to him. ‘The walls have been breached. There are enemies in the city.’

Dystran sighed. One failure already. ‘How many?’

‘It is impossible to say.’

‘Oh, right,’ Dystran smiled. ‘You’re going to tell me that no one saw anyone, I suppose.’

‘Correct, my Lord.’

Dystran stopped. Make that two failures. ‘I was joking.’

‘Yes,’ agreed Myx, uncertain how to respond.

‘You’re telling me that no Xeteskian guard or mage has laid eyes on the enemy even though they are inside the walls?’

‘Some will have, my Lord. We have not yet found the bodies.’

‘Was that a joke?’

‘No, my Lord.’ Myx was surely frowning beneath his mask but Dystran couldn’t see it.

‘Stupid question.’ Dystran waved a hand and set off again.

His mind boiled, the acerbic comments he might deliver churned away. He shook his head, muttered to himself and scratched his hair, unruly from his disturbed rest. He was halfway across the spectacular domed hall which lay at the centre of the tower complex and high above the Heart of the college.

Passages ran away towards the chambers at the base of each tower as well as to banqueting and reception halls, guest quarters and administrative offices. It was a maze for the unwary and the design was entirely deliberate. Ways to the real power of the college were not easily discovered and no senior or circle mage wanted the uninvited venturing into catacombs or tower.

Dystran’s sandals slapped on the exquisitely patterned marble floor as he headed for the intricately carved main doors. The left one opened and a soldier hurried in.

‘Ah, Commander Chandyr, how good of you to come before I called. I expect you’ll be bursting to explain to me how an unknown number of highly skilled elves are running loose in my streets.’

Chandyr’s momentary confusion cleared when he saw Myx.

‘You’ve heard,’ he said.

‘Evidently.’

‘Sorry, my Lord.’

‘So, would you care to enlighten me? I understood that no section of the city walls was to be unguarded at any time. I also understood that patrols would always be in sight of one another as they are outside the walls of my college. Given these two parameters, I fail to see how anyone got in without tunnelling. Difficult through our foundations, I would suggest.’

Dystran kept a firm grip on his anger. He knew Chandyr was a competent soldier but he was better suited to the open field, on the back of a horse. Circumstance, though, had conspired to install him to the city’s most senior military position.

‘No, my Lord, they scaled the walls. I have no explanation for it. I came here to report on our search and to offer my apologies.’

Dystran waved a hand. ‘Apologies later.’ He sighed again. Seemed he’d been doing a lot of that. ‘What do you know and what’s happening right now?’

‘Seven men are unaccounted for, presumed dead. We found three ropes leading down from an area of the south wall by the Darin bakery. There were no other signs. We have been unable to track them and have begun a spread search of the streets. We have cast the net from both their point of entry and the college walls assuming they intend eventually to gain entry here.

‘We will find them.’

Dystran chuckled. ‘You know, somehow I doubt you will but I wonder whether that matters.’ He paused. ‘You haven’t removed any of my guard from the college walls?’

‘No, my Lord.’

‘Good, see that you don’t. Here’s what I suggest because they have only one target and that is this college. They will not kill the common man, they will not spoil our grain, poison our water or fire our buildings. And do not think that they have not been pressured to do just that on any of the innumerable nights we may assume they have already run free in these streets. It is what I would have demanded.

‘They are a singular race. That much I have learned from men like Yron, and those incredible texts we guard so jealously. They seek that one prize and then they will go. So why don’t we let them come, now they have gained entry so effortlessly? They cannot gain our walls unseen. They do not have the magic to threaten us. Julatsa fails more by the day.

‘Rest your men, Chandyr. Guard my walls and guard my cobble-stoned yards. And when we see them at our gates, we can call two hundred of the reserve from their bunks to fight them and fifty mages to burn them. They will not enter this college.’

‘My Lord,’ acknowledged Chandyr.

Dystran turned away and wandered back towards his tower, a complete calm descending on him. ‘Now why didn’t I think of that before?’

‘Because until now you were unsure of their sole intent.’

‘It was a rhetorical question, Myx,’ said Dystran.

‘Yes, my Lord.’

‘Stand outside my door tonight. Wake me should the elves be spotted. The sport should be worth watching.’

‘I will, Lord Dystran.’

‘One more thing,’ said Dystran as they entered the base of his tower and headed for the stairs. ‘I would know the exact time we are able to cast the first of our new dimensional magics. And I would know which of our castings is the better prepared for use.’ He smiled at Myx and patted his shoulder. ‘Just in case.’

Hirad led The Raven along a passage hacked out of packed clay, shored up with timbers along its length. It bore the signs of considerable age and, here and there, despite the holding spells, timbers had fallen away and the tunnel threatened to cave in.

Beyond the door in the blank warehouse office, a flight of wooden steps had run down for more than thirty-odd feet before levelling into the slightly meandering damp and reeking passage. They’d run all the way, the LightGlobe never far from Denser’s shoulder, guiding them, the rats scattering before them, feet splashing in puddles.

The barbarian’s mind was a riot of conflict. It had fallen on him so suddenly though he knew it had been there, waiting for a moment of weakness to present itself. He couldn’t afford to let his guilt cloud his judgement but he couldn’t push it aside either. This place. This filthy passage led to the heart of everything and everyone he blamed for Ilkar’s death besides himself. No one was innocent. And the thought that they had come to steal and not mete out justice was one he found hard to bear.

He knew what they had to do. Knew their success could ultimately make sense of Ilkar’s wishes but within the walls they ran beneath, those who had casually signed away his life had live blood in their veins. How desperately he wanted to let it drown the entire college.

The Unknown had run beside him in the narrow passage all the way, talking, keeping him with them. Without Ilkar he was the only one Hirad would hear.

‘Don’t let it consume you,’ he said. ‘Control it. Master it. Use it to help us do what we must. Revenge can come later.’

But Hirad knew there would never be a better chance and enough of him hoped they would be discovered by those capable of facing him, to feed his desire.

‘Remember you are Raven. Remember what that means.’

He ran harder.

It was Denser’s voice that stopped him, stopped all of them.

‘Slow. We are sloping up. Quiet now.’

The pace dropped to a walk, breath pulled more easily into lungs, pulses slowed.

‘All right, let’s orient ourselves,’ continued Denser. Rebraal’s murmur could be heard, elven ears tuned to him. ‘This slope ends at a door beyond which is a store room for the Mana Bowl. The other side of the door is a basic illusion. The door is unlocked from this side but is locked and alarmed on the other. Once we go through, no one step back or you’ll trigger the bell ward. That’s very important.

‘The Mana Bowl sits just to the north-east of the tower complex and butts on to an administrative block. It is diagonally opposite the library, which also connects at one corner with the complex. I’ve explained to you the ways we can get in. Here is where we meet when we’re done. You’ll recognise the fallback positions if we encounter trouble. Let me remind you they are the banqueting halls which run south from the complex and the reception hall of the dome itself. Is everybody clear?’

Hirad scanned the TaiGethen. There was no doubting their readiness.

‘We won’t get in and out without encountering anyone so kill quietly,’ said The Unknown. ‘We only get one chance at this.’

Hirad walked to the end of the passage. A wooden door and frame were set into the stone surrounds of a building. There was no handle.

‘How do I—?’

‘I said it was unlocked, I didn’t say a non-mage could open it. Stand aside. I’ll have to lose the LightGlobe, sorry.’

The sudden dark was disconcerting. Hirad put a hand on the wall to steady himself. Next to him, Denser muttered under his breath. He could hear water dripping behind them, the scuttle of rodents and the ominous creak of the weaker timbers.

The hand on his shoulder had him jumping almost clear of his skin. He felt breathing by his ear and a voice spoke low, menacing and in elvish. It was Auum.

‘What did he say?’ Hirad’s voice sounded loud in the nervous quiet. ‘I presume you’re there, Rebraal.’

‘He said he will not let you risk his success. He says the TaiGethen are doing the work of Yniss tonight and any who threaten that work will be killed.’

Hirad bristled. ‘Well, you tell him his inspirational words need work. Tell him, The Raven do not make a habit of failure. And tell him if he threatens me again, he can have his fight.’

‘Hirad—’ warned The Unknown from close by.

‘He saw how you reacted,’ said Rebraal. ‘Your loss of control. He doesn’t believe emotion should guide you. He thinks that is weak.’

‘If I had no emotions driving me on, you couldn’t pay me enough to raid the Dark College. Don’t any of you ever presume to tell me how I should or should not act. I have nothing to prove to you, him or any elf, bar Ilkar.’

‘That’s not—’

‘Just leave it, Rebraal,’ said Erienne, somewhere to the left. ‘You don’t understand.’

Thraun growled his agreement. Hirad jumped again. Sometimes the shapechanger was so quiet you could forget he was there. It didn’t used to be like that.

‘Quiet!’ hissed Denser. ‘We’re in.’

A wan light washed down the passage from somewhere, soaking them all in grey, misty illumination as the door swung inwards. Hirad paused to lock eyes with Auum before a push from The Unknown sent him on to creep into the chamber beyond. It was small, too small to take them all at once. Shelves ran down two sides, forcing Hirad to edge sideways past ordered stacks of plain blue robes, simple sandals and cord ties.

‘Robes for the Mana Bowl,’ explained Denser.

‘Very nice,’ said Hirad, moving into the narrow gap between the shelves and looking up at windows in the ceiling through which the grey light was shining. He nodded at a door opposite. ‘What’s through there?’

‘A corridor leading to offices, other store rooms, changing rooms, a contemplation and relaxation chamber and the entrance to the Bowl itself.’

‘Thanks for the full tour,’ said Hirad. ‘Now, will there be anyone outside? We need to move ourselves.’

‘The Bowl doesn’t operate after dark, the focus is never right, strange as that may seem for the Dark College.’

‘I’ve no idea what you’re talking about,’ said Hirad. ‘I’m going out. Bring The Raven. We’re leaving first.’

Hirad marched to the door and put an ear to it. Behind him, the message was relayed back into the clay passage. Out came the rest of The Raven, Rebraal at their rear, keeping communication as smooth as he could.

‘Note these skylights,’ Denser was saying to the elf. ‘The library has the same ventilation and natural light source. If you’re going in from the top, that’s what you have to prise open.’

Hirad could hear nothing from the corridor. He laid a hand gently on the handle and pulled. The door swung open easily. Outside it was dark. Nothing moved. The barbarian moved out. The Unknown was immediately behind him, going left as he went right. Denser and Erienne followed them, spreading away either side with Thraun and Darrick in their footprints.

‘Hirad, head up the corridor. Door at the end. That’s our way out. We’ll be in the shadow of the Mana Bowl and follow it round to the tower complex offices. We break in, the elves carry on. Got it?’

‘Got it,’ said Hirad.

There was the unmistakable smell of age and reverence in the darkened corridor. Hirad didn’t feel he could have made a loud noise even if he’d wanted to. The atmosphere was oppressive, reminiscent of the rainforests of Calaius but without the humidity. He shook his head and paced on. The corridor had no windows, no skylights. Its only illumination came from behind and from under the doors of the rooms he passed.

He could feel the Mana Bowl to his right. It had a power all of its own. It was the place where initiate mages went to accept the mana or have it wreck their minds. A harsh but necessary test. Who’d be a mage?

At the door, Hirad stopped. The corridor was full behind him. Denser waved him on.

‘It’s all right. No alarms and no locks. We save those for the Bowl itself. That, the uninvited cannot be allowed to see.’

Hirad cracked the door and felt the dampness of the night air on his face. It smelled beautifully fresh after the underground passage. Orders were being shouted around the college. He could hear the sounds of running feet but felt they were above him, on the walls. He held up a hand and all movement behind him ceased. Rebraal came to his shoulder. They waited, listening, watching what they could through the crack in the door, which revealed nothing but a stone path, a hedge and a few manicured small trees.

Hirad turned to Rebraal who shook his head.

‘No one is near,’ whispered the elf.

‘Well, it’s now or never,’ said Hirad. ‘Come on, Raven.’

As he was instructed, Hirad opened the door just far enough and slipped out to the right. His heart was beating fast and reality hit him hard. He was standing in the grounds of the Dark College.

He closed his eyes momentarily, commended his soul to any God that was listening, and shifted crab-like along under the deep shadow of the Mana Bowl towards the towers of Xetesk.

Chapter 17

Lights burned in each of Xetesk’s seven towers. Six in the outer circle soared upwards one hundred and fifty feet, with the central, dominant tower’s peak at least a further fifty feet above them. A figure moved around that tallest tower, staring out from a balcony before disappearing from view.

Auum signalled that they could move again. All around them, the college was humming. Guards thronged the walls, walking their beats or staring out over the city. The two gate houses, east and west, were bright with lantern light, which spread pools over the courtyards within and, presumably, without. Up in the residential halls, light shone from many windows, indicating students losing a night’s sleep, ready should they be called upon.

But no one moved across the ground. Not by the quartet of long rooms in the south-east corner, not around the lecture theatres to the north or through the ornamental gardens that bordered two sides of the tower complex.

Complacency was an enemy. The elves had learned that to awful cost. Xetesk clearly had not. Not yet. While they covered every inch of ground outside the college walls where they believed their enemies had to come from, they had ignored the space under their very noses; safe in the assumption that their spells would defend their critical structures.

Moving in heavy shadows around the back of the shrouded and shuttered banqueting halls, Auum made his decision the moment he saw the library. There was no point risking a casual observer noticing that the soldiers guarding the library’s single entrance were missing. He nodded to Duele who began to climb at the junction of banqueting hall and library walls.

The architects had enjoyed their designing and the sculptors had given full vent to their talents, producing an extraordinary structure. In the context of the college, the library was a huge building, dominated only by the towers in whose shadows it stood.

Ornate buttresses climbed up the sides of the building, punctuating the three levels of grand arched windows of stained glass. The flat roof they knew to be studded with skylights and it was adorned along its edges and, so Denser said, its surface, with gargoyles and statues. The single set of double doors were set into the western end of the rectangular building.

Every stone was carved. Murals depicted the gathering and writing of texts. Scribes looked up in wonder from their work as mages conducted castings. Early scholars gazed down on the college, huge solemn faces lined with age and conveying knowledge and learning. Denser had assured them that in the daylight, it was a stunning sight. Auum cared little for that. What it meant to him was an easy climb, hidden for the most part from the eyes of his enemies.

Duele made short work of the climb. Evunn followed him at the same pace, with two Al-Arynaar mages in his wake. Next he signalled Marack to take her cell up. The two cells led by Porrack and Allyne would stay to be the eyes and ears on the outside, hidden in the shadows. Auum climbed up after Marack. He found the roof exactly as Denser described it. Impressive carved statues of demonic shapes, flying gargoyles and even piles of books and scripts.

Moving across to Duele and Evunn, he nodded to the rest of his charges, signalled them to wait hidden. There was no need to remind them to keep alert. Every eye scanned buildings or ground.

‘We move.’

Auum and his Tai spread to three consecutive skylights, lying flat on the roof to look but not touching them. The small windows were set into raised and sloped stone casements. Auum’s sight pierced the gloom below easily enough, helped by the fact that the library wasn’t in complete darkness. From somewhere on the ground floor, light was edging out, probably from under a closed door.

Directly beneath him, Auum could make out row after row of wall-mounted or freestanding bookshelves and glass-fronted cases, their strict order dominating the floor. Towards the main doors, a shelf-free area was home to small desks, larger tables, book stands and a scattering of chairs. Some of the tables had books and parchments on them and Auum could make out lantern stands, quill-and-ink sets and paperweights.

To his right, and east along the length of the library, Auum followed the central carpeted walkway to a grand staircase that wound up to two landings. Each landing swept around a wide balustraded oval that overlooked the floor below. More bookshelves lined the outer walls and where the floor widened, more desks and tables covered the space. It was an ordered arrangement, undoubtedly airy and bright in the middle of the day. A good place to study but nevertheless alien to him.

He lifted his head and glanced left and right. Both Evunn and Duele were waiting for him, shakes of their heads indicating they too had seen no one. A whisper barely more than a breeze around the statues reached his ears. He turned his head to the source. Marack and her Tai were deep in the lee of a gruesome demonic effigy. She raised her right eyebrow. Auum followed its direction.

A man stood on the highest parapet of one of the outer towers. The swirling rain might have deceived him but Auum felt sure the man was gripping the rail as if he would otherwise fall. Something flitted around his head. Not a bird but winged all the same. Denser had mentioned these creatures. They were a danger. Part of a world from which Yniss protected them. They had no place here.

He watched, knowing he was exposed but hoping that his stillness would make him appear little more than a shadow on the stone. The creature landed on the rail and looked into the man’s eyes. It reached out one hand and gently stroked the old man’s cheek. Auum frowned. It was a display at odds with its appearance and origin.

Leaning heavily on a stick and bracing himself on the rail then the doorframe, the man edged back into his tower, the pain in each step obvious.

Something nagged at Auum. It may have been just one old man but he had chosen that moment to stir himself from rest and his apparent agony had not stopped him determining to take the air. Perhaps some of the enemy sensed what the guards on the walls plainly did not. The TaiGethen would not delay.

He beckoned over one of the Al-Arynaar mages. She was called Sian’erei, of the same broad family as the Drech Guild elf who had recently ridden with The Raven and died in their service. Sian was fiercely determined and a talented mage, both factors that had made her an obvious choice for the raid. But, like all of them, her expression was chastened now with the fear that another mana failure could happen at any time.

‘We must be sure there are no traps on this glass. Work fast.’

Sian closed her eyes, Auum watching her eyes flickering beneath their lids and her mouth move soundlessly. She ignored the rain whipping into her small face and over her cropped dark-haired head while she probed the skylight for traps. The search was brief.

‘Nothing,’ she said. ‘And the spectrum is steady.’

‘Yniss keep it that way,’ said Auum. ‘Back to the shadow.’

She retreated and Duele took his cue, slithering across the roof.

‘Opinions?’ asked Auum.

‘The fixings are weak,’ said Duele after brief probing. ‘We must guard against the glass falling inwards. Hold here.’

Auum gripped the frame where Duele indicated while his Tai levered up the tarred waterproofing that surrounded the casement. Beneath it, the brackets which held the window in place were revealed. Auum nodded for him to continue. Duele worked his knife under the first bracket. The wood squeaked as the bracket bent back, the sound piercing so close but lost in the wind and the hubbub of orders echoing around the walls. Inside the library, they would surely have been heard.

Duele looked to Auum who raised his eyebrows.

‘We have little choice. Take your time, but be quick.’

A smile flashed across Duele’s face. ‘You have spent too much time with The Raven,’ he said, bending to his task.

‘We agree there.’

Four brackets held the window in place. Auum could feel it move easily in his hands after the second was removed. Shortly after, they were able to lever the window up and free, though he held it in place.

‘Bring rope,’ he said. ‘One length.’

It came immediately, one end tied around a stone horse’s leg. Auum removed the window, looking anxiously down to see the funnel of air playing delicately across loose pages. He grabbed the free end.

‘Lower me,’ he ordered, hanging his legs over the edge.

Duele and Evunn took the strain and he dropped through the small opening, feeling the change as the misty rain and breeze ceased and the atmosphere warmed and quietened. Once clear of the frame, he swung his body and descended head first, his legs balancing his body at an angle. There was no sound from below him. Indeed all he could hear was the strain on the rope as it bore his weight and turned slowly, affording him a comprehensive view.

He was coming down towards the third-level balustrade. It was a carved marble rail, as wide as his foot was long, off-white in colour and shot through with natural flaws in darker tones. Six feet plus from the woven rug-covered floor, he stopped, the rope played out to its full length. He pivoted again and dropped, landing lightly and crouching, eyes scanning the floor beneath through the balustrade rail.

Duele and Evunn joined him, splitting left and right and beginning to circle the floor. Marack and her cell came down behind Sian’erei and Vinuun, the other Al-Arynaar mage. Above them, the gap to the sky whistled and Auum spared it a look before moving off after his Tai towards the stairs.

Somewhere in here was the Aryn Hiil. Xetesk could keep the other writings if only they could reclaim that which contained so much that man should not discover about the elves and their genesis. Understanding of the Aryn Hiil would give Xetesk weapons against them. One had been unleashed unwittingly already. The others had to remain hidden.

Slipping silently down the stairs at the head of his people, Auum could feel the power of the work that surrounded them, as if each leather-bound volume, each protective parchment case and each glass display cabinet fought to contain the knowledge within. So much of Xetesk’s history was here. So much havoc could be wreaked by its destruction.

But that was for men to decide. Once the Aryn Hiil was retaken, the elves had but one more task on Balaia before they left it forever.

The Raven, bolstered by Rebraal and two Al-Arynaar mages, moved quickly through the block of administrative offices that bordered the Mana Bowl on one side and were accessed through doors set into the eastern arc of the central dome of the tower complex.

Rebraal had made short work of a locked window, allowing them into the building, and, with Denser able to advise on the position of locks, wards and alarms progress was fluid. Soon they were gathered by a door into the dome itself. In their wake lay a short corridor and six offices for the use of the Circle Seven’s private secretaries. Nothing useful had been gleaned from them, despite Denser having hoped they might gain clues as to who was in residence. Unfortunately, given the lights they’d already seen, it was likely every tower was currently occupied.

The Unknown Warrior took a moment to collect himself. He knew exactly what lay through that door. Last time he had seen it, it had been from behind the mask of a Protector. It was a majestic place. The bases of the six outer towers bordered it, the column of the central tower drove straight through its centre and down to the Heart. Its alcoves held statues of great masters long gone, the tower columns were carved with murals and warnings, the floor was spectacular tiled marble. And winding passages radiated out to a maze that led to the doorways to the towers and, ultimately, the catacombs.

He couldn’t help it, he shuddered. Down there, lost in the network of chambers, tunnels, caverns and hallways was the Soul Tank. Every Protector was taken there to see for himself where his soul was held and why his thrall was binding until death. He winced as a hand touched his arm.

‘Suffering, big man?’ asked Hirad.

The Unknown nodded. ‘I can feel them. No Protector likes to be this close to the Soul Tank. Standing outside your own prison brings a pain I cannot describe in here.’ He touched his chest above his heart.

‘And tonight the means to release them can be in our hands. We know it must exist,’ said Denser.

‘I don’t share your confidence,’ said The Unknown. ‘And I don’t know if we should release them, even if we discover how.’

‘That’s a question for later,’ said Denser. ‘There’s much for us to do here. One thing at a time, eh?’

Another nod from the Unknown. He swallowed, unable to push the visions from his head. He focused hard on what they’d agreed.

‘Go, Denser. Let’s get this over with.’

Hirad grunted. ‘Time to strike back.’

Denser crouched by the door. There was no conventional lock. What held the offices from unwelcome visitors was what Denser described as a magical door wedge. It was moved at dawn every day and replaced every night by the tower master, a mage with influence only bettered by the Circle Seven themselves. Not a difficult spell to overcome but, like everything in Xetesk, it could link to a hidden trigger that might do anything from setting off an alarm to firing a disabling spell.

‘Nothing here,’ said Denser. ‘No. Hold on.’ He fell silent again. ‘Ah. Clever. Very clever.’ He chuckled. ‘Hold on.’

He drew in a deep breath and held it. The Unknown looked on, brow creasing deeper and deeper. Denser was working his fingers at an extraordinary rate. All the movements were minute but there was an order and complexity at which he could only wonder. The casting, or teasing of mana as The Unknown suspected it was, went on far beyond the time Denser should surely have taken a breath. His face displayed no discomfort and his face defined his level of concentration, eyes screwed tight, jaw clenched, neck muscles corded.

At the last, he shuddered. ‘Release,’ he muttered and rolled onto his back, to exhale and heave in a fresh breath. They gathered above him, looking down as he recovered himself.

‘What the hell was all that about?’ asked Hirad. ‘You mages make things so difficult for yourselves, you know. Keys. They make sense.’

‘The whole point is that the Tower Master should be alerted if someone tries to break in,’ managed Denser.

‘I expect they’d just come in through the window like us, wouldn’t they?’ Hirad held out a hand and helped Denser to his feet.

‘Thanks. You see, what you don’t know is what we’ve triggered, coming through the windows and the office doors. It’s a clever system and I’ll explain it to you some other time.’

‘So what did you do this time?’ asked The Unknown, happy to be distracted.

‘The Tower Master had a single strand of mana attached to the holding spell on the door. I suspect releasing the spell would have the effect of a ringing a bell in his chambers. I had to put in a lattice that would keep the strand at the right focus – that’s tension to you, Hirad – and for that I had to calculate the focus. Not simple but not insurmountable.’