Текст книги "The Raven Collection"

Автор книги: James Barclay

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Текущая страница: 18 (всего у книги 235 страниц)

Chapter 18

The morning began calm. Dawn broke to the sound of people checking horses, stowing equipment and preparing food. The weather was fine and cool, ideal conditions for riding. Nonetheless, there was a storm about to break.

With horses saddled and castle rigged, most of The Raven, old and new, had gathered in the courtyard. Talan was astride his horse.

‘Second thoughts?’ probed Hirad. He was feeling good, strong. A few practice moves with Talan had revealed a dull ache and nothing more. Erienne said the ache would be with him for ever.

‘With every breath I take,’ said Talan.

‘And?’

‘I’m still right to go.’ He shrugged.

‘Where?’

‘Never you mind, barbarian. Least said, least knows, never does find.’

‘What?’

‘My mother used to say it. God knows why, but it sounds right.’

Hirad raised his eyebrows and offered Talan a hand which the other shook. ‘You’ll always be Raven,’ he said. ‘Don’t forget.’

‘Thank you. Gods, Hirad, I—’

‘It’s done, Talan. We wish each other life and luck. It’s all we can do now.’ He smiled. ‘See you in Korina when it’s all over.’

‘Depend on it.’ Talan turned his horse and trotted towards the gates. As he neared the walls, Sol stepped squarely into his path.

‘I think you’d better stop, Talan,’ said Denser, emerging from the house, cat in his arms.

‘What’s up?’ Hirad turned to the Xeteskian.

‘I didn’t really believe he’d go. I was trusting you to change his mind.’

Hirad felt a chill through the warmth of the morning.

‘This is Raven business. It’s his choice,’ he said. ‘It’s his right.’

‘No, it is not,’ said Denser, his voice calm and cold. ‘We cannot take the risk of his capture. He cannot be allowed to leave.’

‘Don’t do this, Denser,’ urged Ilkar.

Denser ignored Ilkar. ‘Reconsider.’

Talon shook his head. ‘No.’

At a signal from his Given, Sol snapped the axe from his back to the ready.

‘Reconsider,’ Denser repeated.

Another shake of the head.

‘You’d kill him?’ Hirad’s face darkened.

Denser shrugged. ‘It’s what Sol does best.’

Hirad didn’t even think about it. He covered the ground to Denser, locked an arm around his neck and pushed a dagger under his chin.

‘Reconsider,’ he grated.

Sol broke towards them, his movement measured, implacable.

‘Not another step, maskman, or this whole thing ends right now.’

The point of Hirad’s dagger drew blood. Sol stopped dead. ‘And don’t even think about a spell. You aren’t quick enough to beat me,’ said Hirad into Denser’s ear. He looked over at Talan. ‘Get out of here.’ Talan nodded his thanks, spurred his horse and galloped away. ‘Like I said, it’s Raven business.’ He released Denser and sheathed his dagger. ‘Now you can either kill me or we can get on with our job.’

‘No purpose would be served by killing you,’ said Denser, rubbing his neck.

‘I thought not. Let’s go then.’

Ilkar let out his breath, paused long enough to glare at Hirad and walked back towards the stables. Thraun and Will disappeared into the house. Erienne was still at the grave of her sons.

Sol moved to stand at Denser’s side, the cat now on the Protector’s shoulder. All three stared at him.

‘What is it? Surprised I care that much?’ Hirad’s anger had not entirely left him. ‘You still don’t understand us, do you, Denser? The few of us that are still alive. And though you are sworn to the Code, until you do, you will never be truly Raven.’

‘No,’ said Denser. ‘I don’t and I’m not, although I’m getting a better picture every day.’ He paused. ‘You would really have killed me?’

‘It’s what I do best.’ Hirad smiled.

‘And handed Balaia and Dawnthief to the Wytch Lords.’

‘I will not let you use that as a weapon to dominate us. You had no right to stop Talan—’

‘I had every r—’

‘It was Raven business!’ snapped Hirad. ‘I won’t repeat myself again. Now I know you’re important and I know we need to keep you alive. But if you pull another trick like that, I will stop you any way I can. And if that means we both die and Balaia with us, so be it.’

Eventually, Denser nodded. ‘But you understand my fears.’

‘Of course. Ilkar shares them. But you should have spoken to us about them. Did you really think we were going to stand by and let your shadow chop down a member of The Raven?’

Denser was silent for a time. He breathed in deeply.

‘In hindsight, no. Look, I wasn’t thinking straight. We’re in a lot of trouble—’

‘Ilkar’s told me.’

‘—and I just saw it as one risk too many.’ He paused. ‘I panicked. I’m sorry.’

‘Then it’s forgotten.’ Hirad accepted Denser’s hand. ‘As long as he realises it was nothing personal.’ He switched his gaze to Sol. Behind the mask, the eyes stared back, betraying no reaction.

‘He will not attempt to harm you unless you threaten my life,’ said Denser.

‘I think we both know how to avoid that, don’t we?’ Hirad turned at a sound from the castle. Will and Thraun trotted out.

‘Fuses are lit,’ said Will. ‘They’ll burn for around four hours. I hope we can find a convenient hill to watch from.’

‘We’ll see what we can do.’ Hirad drew breath. ‘Raven! Mount up, let’s go. The sun won’t stop moving!’ He paused to grab Denser’s arm. ‘You’ll see to Erienne?’ Then he ran to his horse. Minutes later, the hiss and crackle of fuses was the only sound echoing around the stone walls of the Black Wings’ castle.

The Raven rode along the trail from the castle for ten minutes before cutting away up a gentle incline into woodland. The ground was easy but rocks here and there dictated a measure of caution. It was three days’ ride to Dordover; an injury to a horse would add delay and time was something The Raven simply didn’t have to waste.

The first stop, earlier than Denser would have preferred, saw them on the slope of a hillside over three hours from the castle. Though not an ideal viewing point – the castle was partially obscured by both trees and distance – it was the best they could hope for and Will for one was not moving.

‘Something wrong, old friend?’ asked Ilkar.

Hirad looked away from the castle. ‘I was just working out how long it was since I had a drink and I’m not happy with the answer.’

‘It was in the ruins of Septern’s house, wasn’t it?’

Hirad nodded.

‘Travers had a stock,’ said Ilkar.

‘I’d rather drink the contents of my own bladder,’ replied Hirad.

‘Very wise. It made a good antiseptic, though, so Talan said.’

Hirad raised his eyebrows. ‘He’d better be all right,’ he said. ‘I’m going to miss him, I think.’

‘Yes,’ agreed Ilkar.

‘Are you surprised he’s gone?’

‘Surprised and very disappointed. I really thought . . . you know, after four years . . .’

‘Yes, I know. And talking of being disappointed, I’m beginning to lose faith in this great firework display of Will’s.’ He turned to where Will was standing, hands on hips, a few yards away. ‘Hey, Will, any danger of this event of yours actually happening?’

Will tensed and shot him a sharp glance. ‘Patience,’ he said.

‘Smoke!’ said Jandyr immediately, pointing and standing up.

‘Where?’ asked Ilkar.

‘Front door, all around the cracks.’

‘Got it,’ said Ilkar.

‘Where?’ And as Hirad strained to see what was visible only to elven eyes, the front door and surrounding walls blew out. A huge tongue of flame lashed into the courtyard, bringing with it a cloud of debris and smoke, causing him to shudder at the unwelcome reminder of his escape from Sha-Kaan.

The muffled thump of the first detonation reached them seconds later, moments before the two towers exploded in perfect synchronisation. One tore itself apart, collapsing inwards. The other’s force was concentrated upwards, its ornately pointed top section spinning lazily into the air atop a plume of powdered masonry. Will shouted, delighted. Erienne burst into tears. Denser moved to her, held her and wiped dry her damp cheeks. She looked up at him and smiled.

And then, with the castle wreathed in flames and smoke, Hirad patted Will on the back and hurried them on their way under Denser’s anxious gaze.

Understone.

Once the focal point of trade and travel both east and west of the pass, the town had fallen first to disuse, then to disrepair, following the surrender of the pass to the Wesmen. All that remained was a poorly provisioned garrison of first-tour career soldiers paid for by the Korina Trade Alliance, though the parlous state of that organisation scarcely warranted the name, such was its fading reputation.

Seventy-five men made up the total defence against incursion from the west, an incursion that none in the KTA believed would happen after the first five years of quiet.

How times change. In the aftermath of Travers’ extraordinarily brave but ultimately doomed defence of the pass, Understone was fortified and garrisoned with three thousand men. With the entire eastern part of Balaia deemed under threat, no cost was too much in ensuring the Wesmen got no further than daylight the other side of the pass. Temporary accommodation was built, and traders, prostitutes, entertainers and innkeepers saw their best-ever years. But it didn’t last. The Wesmen never attacked again. It seemed, after five years, that control of the pass and the tolls Tessaya could exact was the limit of their ambition.

Why they took the pass was a question left unanswered at the time. In the years before the series of battles that led to Travers’ defeat, an uneasy peace had been maintained, allowing trade from the richer east to flow west, opening up new markets and developing new industries. But now nine years after the fall of the pass, the situation was unfortunately clear. The Wesmen had taken the pass as a precursor to the eventual return of the Wytch Lords.

The town of Understone stood no more than four hundred yards from the thirty-feet-high by twenty-five-feet-wide open black arch that was the entrance to Understone Pass. To either side, the mountains spread up and away, rolling into hills and scrubland which stretched as far as the eye could see, north, east and south. It was a bleak but beautiful sight, the town standing squarely in the middle of a carved wagon trail, its tumbledown houses littering neighbouring hills or jostling for position on the inadequate flatter spaces away from the main street.

It was bleaker still when the rains came, as they often did, clouds sweeping over the mountains on the prevailing wind to disgorge their contents on the hapless inhabitants below.

Flooding, mudslides, subsidence, all had left their scars on the town, whose solution to the rains was a lattice of drainage trenches probing in all downhill directions. They had worked well but disrepair now limited their effectiveness and the floods had returned. The main street was ankle deep in a thick, clogging mud, its stench rising with the sun.

The unannounced arrival of more than five hundred men and elves from the four Colleges caused panic in the small garrison. While a few stood in the way of the mounted force, most disappeared into buildings or ran shouting for their commanding officer. By the time he had dragged his way from an old inn, buttoning his tunic over his ample belly as he came thrashing through the mud, only twelve conscripts remained. It was pitiable.

The garrison commander looked past General Ry Darrick at the long line of horsemen who filled his town’s main street almost end to end. He looked at those of his men who had chosen to stand their ground and nodded his thanks before facing Darrick, who leaned forward in his saddle, not even honouring the man by dismounting.

‘And this is how you would face those who would take our lands,’ said Darrick.

The commander smiled. ‘No,’ he replied. ‘Because those who would take our lands would hardly draw breath while slaughtering so small a garrison. Whom do I address?’

‘I am Darrick, General, Lystern cavalry. And you are Kerus, commander of the garrison standing at the gates of hell.’

For a second time, Kerus frowned, gauging the meaning both of Darrick’s words and of the weight of numbers behind him. Choosing to keep the rest of the conversation private, he walked through the mud to stand by Darrick’s chestnut-brown mare.

‘General Darrick. What I have here are seventy-five men, none of whom is above nineteen. They have been sent here to patrol the area outside the pass and to deal with any raiders who might come through. They were never expected to repel an invading army because no army will ever come through the pass. And now, I must ask you, what is your business in Understone?’

‘Preparing to repel the invading army that you say doesn’t exist. I have five thousand foot two days behind me.’

‘Perhaps we had better talk in my quarters,’ said Kerus.

‘Perhaps we had.’

Chapter 19

It was late afternoon. Will had the wood burner firing and a pot of water bubbled on top of it. No light could be seen.

‘I’m astonished, frankly,’ said Denser. ‘We didn’t meet another soul. How likely is that?’ He, Ilkar and Hirad had walked away a few yards to talk. Jandyr and Thraun were seeing to the horses and Erienne had already put her head down to sleep.

‘He’s a good tracker, I’ll give him that,’ said Hirad.

‘Good! It’s hardly desolate out here. We didn’t even hear anyone. It’s extraordinary.’

‘Not only that, half the time we didn’t hear him ourselves,’ agreed Ilkar.

‘All right. Meeting of the Thraun appreciation society closed,’ said Hirad. ‘What about Dordover?’

Denser gestured for Ilkar to speak.

‘It’s the largest of the College Cities. It is more closely linked to Xetesk than Julatsa and has a history of allegiance with Denser’s lot, although they now barely talk. It wouldn’t make our job any easier if they did. One thing you have to understand is that the colleges guard their lore more jealously than any other possession. What we are about to steal is part of Dordover’s lore.’

‘So it’ll be protected.’

‘Yes, but not by people. Spells,’ said Ilkar. ‘That’s our problem. Wards, alarms, traps, all coded. If the wrong person moves in their sphere, they’ll be triggered.’

‘So how?’ asked Hirad.

‘Our only choice, unfortunately, is Erienne,’ said Denser.

‘Why unfortunately?’

‘Because we shouldn’t be asking her to take such a direct part in this theft. She’s already torn apart by losing her sons. I wonder whether this might not be one thing too many for her to take.’

‘I know,’ said Hirad. ‘But if she’s only telling us what to do . . .’

‘You misunderstand,’ said Denser. ‘She’ll have to go in.’

‘So we’re talking of sending Will and Thraun into this place in the company of a woman who’s out of her mind with grief and was schooled just around the corner, to steal a ring which is central to her beliefs.’

‘That is a very accurate summary,’ said Denser.

‘Do they know she’s coming?’ asked Hirad.

‘Yes, of course,’ said Denser. ‘Just one more thing. There’s to be no killing, Erienne will not stand for it.’

‘Want me to lop their hands off too?’

‘Sorry, Hirad.’

‘Let’s hope we’re not all sorry before tomorrow.’ He moved away and called to Thraun before turning back. ‘So before we met Erienne, what was the plan?’

Ilkar and Denser exchanged a glance and the cat raised its head.

‘It is possible to subvert weaker minds remotely, given time,’ replied Denser.

‘Believe me, you don’t want to know the details,’ said Ilkar.

Hirad nodded and walked over to the stove.

Styliann rattled his glass back on to the table, his eyes blazing, his face colouring red in the lanternlight of his study.

‘The Protectors are under my direct control. No one assigns a Protector without my prior authorisation. Not even you.’

‘But the situation, my Lord . . .’ began Nyer.

‘Should have been discussed with me,’ said Styliann. ‘I do not like the flouting of my authority. And I particularly do not like your choice of Protector.’

‘Sol is extremely capable.’

‘You know precisely what I am talking about,’ snapped Styliann. ‘You will recall him at once.’

Nyer dropped his eyes to the floor and nodded his head. ‘Naturally, my Lord. If that is your wish.’

‘Damn you, Nyer, I don’t know!’ said Styliann. He poured the older man a drink. ‘What has got into you? You always discuss such matters with me. Always.’

‘You were in conference at Triverne Lake. I felt a decision had to be made.’

Styliann considered and nodded. ‘Very well. Let the Protector stay. At least until after Dordover. But keep me closely informed of progress. I want a full account of all communions and I would hate to have to employ TruthTell to be sure you were telling me everything. ’

Nyer recoiled as if slapped, but recovered to smile. ‘I suppose I deserved that,’ he said. ‘Selyn is well?’

‘Considering the invading armies of the Wesmen trampled her toes on the way to Understone, yes.’ Styliann sucked his lip nervously.

‘She’ll make it, you know.’

‘Thank you for your thoughts.’ The Lord of the Mount rang the bell by the fire. ‘I need to rest. Please don’t work behind my back again.’ His expression was bleak. Nyer left in response to the opening of the door. Styliann sighed. He wouldn’t have believed it of Nyer, he really wouldn’t.

Erienne, with a few brief words to Denser and a squeeze of his hand, left the camp well before sundown alongside Thraun and Will. Unlike Xetesk, Dordover was not a closed city and the trio rode through the gates under the disinterested gaze of the west gate guards two hours later.

‘I couldn’t bear to go back to the house,’ said Erienne when they were seated at a table downstairs from the rooms they had taken for the night at a quiet inn near the College.

‘I understand,’ said Thraun. ‘When this is over, we’ll sort the place out for you.’

Erienne nodded her thanks, tears again threatening behind the sunken, dark-ringed eyes in her pale face. ‘So many memories, so much happiness. And now . . .’ She shook her head and dropped her gaze to the table, pushing her hair back over her ears.

‘We’ll help you through this,’ said Will. ‘We’ll always be here for you.’

Erienne reached out a hand and squeezed Will’s arm. She breathed in and composed herself. ‘Now listen,’ she said. ‘Although Dordover is far more open than somewhere like Xetesk, the College has strict rules concerning visitors. You’re not allowed in the College grounds after full dark, so please, take my lead and try not to say too much.’

‘Will you be recognised?’ asked Thraun.

‘I expect so, near the College anyway. I spent a lot of years here, after all.’

Food and drink arrived at the table.

‘Let’s eat,’ said Erienne. ‘Then we need to get out to the College. We won’t gain entry after dark.’

The College itself consisted of a group of ten or so buildings arranged in a rough circle around the ‘Tower’. That the Tower looked nothing like its name suggested it should was something Will was quick to point out.

The trio were walking up to the single gate of the walled-in college, and the Tower, in actuality a twin-winged four-storey mansion house, lay directly ahead of them.

‘There used to be a tower before the College was formalised as a centre of excellence in magic,’ explained Erienne. ‘It was the done thing about four hundred years ago, I think, but completely impractical. When the College developed around it, the Tower was eventually demolished to make way for the house. Only Xetesk retains towers. They’ve got seven, and that’s a reflection of the College hierarchy’s thinking.’ She couldn’t quite keep the sneer from her voice. ‘Everyone else has moved with the times.’

‘So what was the point of a Tower, if you’ll excuse the pun?’ asked Thraun.

‘They were a symbol of power and authority.’ Erienne shrugged. ‘Phallic symbols for men whose mana ability was less than their egos demanded. Pathetic, really.’

At the gate they were stopped by a single guard who, after a moment’s reflection, recognised the mage in front of him.

‘Erienne,’ he said kindly. ‘It’s been a few years since you came here.’

‘We all have to fly the coop sometime, Geran, but it’s good to see you.’ The guard smiled, then looked at Will and Thraun. ‘Friends of my husband,’ said Erienne. ‘I’ve had a little trouble, I’m afraid.’ Her voice caught and she stopped.

‘And now you’re here for some help.’

‘Something like that.’

Geran stepped aside. ‘You know the rules on visitors,’ he said.

Erienne nodded and walked past him. ‘I’ll see they don’t encroach. ’

‘How is Alun, by the way?’ asked Geran.

Erienne stiffened but carried on walking, not turning. Thraun came to Geran’s shoulder.

‘That’s the trouble. He’s dead. And the boys.’

Geran’s face fell. ‘I’m—’

‘I know. Best left.’

It was close on two hundred yards to the Tower from the gate. To their left, a line of stubby wooden windowed huts – classrooms – arced away, and to their right a long, shuttered building, metalled and black.

‘It’s where range spells are practised and new spells live-tested. It has to be strong,’ said Erienne, stopping to look. ‘Did you know that across the Colleges one in fifty mages die in their long rooms and test chambers? No, of course you didn’t. You thought we all just wake up one morning able to cast. There never has been enough respect for the dangers we face in training and research. You think it’s a gift, but to us it’s a calling we have no choice but to obey. We don’t walk in here, they find us and bring us.’

‘Take it easy, Erienne.’ Thraun, taken aback by her sudden anger, put a hand on her shoulder. She shook it off and began walking again.

‘Behind the Tower is another place to dread. The Mana Bowl. That’s where mages learn to accept, build and control mana. Next door is the ward where the ones who opened their minds too far too soon lie gibbering and drooling until death takes them. Mercifully, that isn’t usually too long.’

She marched up a short flight of stone steps, across a paved relief and hammered on the massive oak doors that fronted the Tower. The left-hand one swung open silently and a man stepped out. He was old beyond anything they had seen or even dreamed. White hair cascaded below his shoulders and his mouth was obscured by a grey-flecked beard. While his body was bent with age and he supported himself on two sticks, his eyes were a clear blue, flashing from a face wrinkled and rolled into a grotesque caricature of the man he once was. But the eyes gave him strength and Erienne bowed to him.

‘Master of the Tower, I am Erienne. I seek knowledge in the library.’

He considered her for a moment before nodding.

‘Indeed,’ he said in a voice brittle and quiet. ‘And your companions? ’ He gestured vaguely with one stick.

‘They guard me.’

‘They may enter the hall but go no further.’

‘I know, Tower Master.’ Erienne wrung her hands.

‘You are impatient, Erienne Malanvai. It was always your weakness. ’ He chuckled. ‘Go and seek your knowledge. You have been absent from the library for too long. Perhaps age is finally bringing you wisdom.’ He took a pace towards Thraun and Will, squinting at them in the failing afternoon light. The thief received only a cursory glance, but Thraun’s face he held with his eyes for some time, a frown deepening the wrinkles of his forehead still further.

‘Hmm,’ he said eventually. ‘Do not trespass. The penalties are swift and severe.’ He shuffled back into the Tower, leaving the door open for them to enter.

Erienne came down towards her companions. ‘What was all that about?’ she asked.

‘I must have a scary face.’ Thraun smiled, but it was less than convincing.

‘We could ask you the same question,’ said Will.

‘The Tower Master, you mean? Just do as he says. He runs the house for the Lore Masters. No one goes against his word and it worries me that he didn’t like you.’

Thraun shrugged. ‘What now?’ he asked.

‘I’m going into the library to check up on the defences around Arteche’s ring. The heavy door you’ll see to the right of the library leads to the crypts. Take a good look at the lock but I’d advise against turning the handle.’

She turned on her heel and walked into the Tower. She headed left and opened a wood-panelled door, then stopped and turned. ‘Don’t – are you two all right?’

Thraun and Will had only taken one pace into the Tower before stopping. Both men had paled, eyes widening more in fear than in reaction to the half-light inside.

Will felt a weight settle on his body like a metal shroud. Oppressive and cloying, it squeezed his lungs and chilled his heart, breath catching in his throat. His eyes swept around the hall. Directly in front of him, a flight of stone stairs led upwards into darkness, and to the right of them, a single closed iron-bound door.

Erienne stood by another door, and to her left, the one that led to the crypts sat next to the stairs. The half-light inside was spread by dim lanterns high on the walls, and from every panel a portrait glowered down – staring, enquiring, demanding. Beneath Will’s feet, the stone-flagged floor was covered by a dark rug, and from every pore leaked power.

‘Would you rather stay outside?’ asked Erienne.

Thraun shook his head weakly. ‘No, we’ll be all right.’ Will was alert enough to shoot him a sharp glance. ‘What is it?’

‘Mana,’ said Erienne simply. ‘The legacy of ages. Lore Masters and mages. The living in the rooms above your head and the dead below. It’s something you’ll never be able to understand, but you can feel it, can’t you? A dead weight for you and the purest form of life energy for me. I will draw strength while you merely endure.’ She almost smiled. ‘I won’t be long.’ She turned and disappeared into the library, the door thudding home.

Behind Thraun and Will, the light was fading fast and the lanterns on the wall lightened in response. Will sank into a chair near the library while Thraun closed the main door.

‘I wonder what she means by not being long?’ he said.

‘Hmm.’ Thraun leaned against the lintel the other side of the library entrance. ‘I don’t know. Whatever, it’s going to seem an age in here.’

‘Better make ourselves useful, then. Let’s see about that lock.’

Denser dozed fitfully. In his half-dreams, the Familiar struggled to free itself from a cage too strong to break. Its form swam from cat to true, its claws scrabbled, talons flashed, teeth rent, voice howled . . . Denser awoke, uneasy. He sent his thoughts through the gloom and relief flooded in as he felt the calm beat of the Familiar’s force. He bade it be cautious.

In the street outside the College of Dordover, a black cat withdrew further into shadow, its eyes never shifting from the gate and its solitary guard, who sat smoking at his post.

‘You must be seen to leave.’ Erienne’s search had been brief and she stood in the hall with Will and Thraun once more. Their wait had seemed interminable. Not a sound had registered in the Tower the entire time she was gone.

‘And then?’ asked Will.

‘Wait until full dark, then come back. I’m staying to do a little more research.’

‘Is the gate well guarded after dark?’

‘No, same as daytime. Either way, I suggest you come over the wall behind the long room.’

‘Isn’t it spell-guarded, the wall?’ Thraun shifted his stance; something wasn’t quite right and it irritated in his subconscious.

‘No.’ Erienne shrugged. ‘Who’d want to break into a College grounds?’

‘Who indeed?’ Will smiled ruefully.

‘Your problems start when you try to get back in here.’

‘Why leave then?’

‘You aren’t allowed in the College after dark. They’ll kill you if they find you. Meet me in the library.’

Will nodded and led the way outside, gasping in the air as he stepped out into the dusk, the weight lifting from his body as quickly as it had settled. He glanced over his shoulder to see the door shut behind them, and he and Thraun hurried down the path, past the guard and out into the street.

Erienne stopped short of the door to the library, hand outstretched to the handle, at the sound of movement behind her.

‘Erienne, Erienne,’ said the Tower Master. ‘You of all people should know that the walls of the Tower have ears.’

In the shadows outside the College gate, the cat pricked its ears, feeling its hackles rise. It shifted, looked behind it, but there was nothing. From nowhere a hand clamped around its neck, pinning it to the ground. It could feel the mana shape which mimicked the shape of the hand, and fear swamped its senses.

‘Don’t think to change, little one. Your bones are thin beneath my fingers.’

The cat was lifted up to a face, dark, with long black hair tied back. The eyes, brown and narrow, bored into its skull. The man spoke again.

‘I could smell you from within the walls,’ he sneered, tightening the mana hand a little. ‘Let’s see if we can’t draw your master from his hiding place.’ A bag, heavy with invested mana, covered the cat’s head, cutting off its sub-vocal howl.

Denser’s scream of pain shattered the peace of the woodland hiding place. Hirad jerked violently from his doze then sprang to his feet, hand already on the hilt of his sword. He ran the short distance to the stricken mage and took in Sol, who was standing near by looking on in what appeared to be disinterest, if anything could be gained from the eyes behind the mask. Denser was hunched on his knees, hands clasped to the sides of his head, nose scraping the leaf mould. A dark trickle ran from a nostril.

‘Denser?’ He could see no wound, no reason for the mage’s sudden cry. That scared him. He felt Ilkar and Jandyr at his shoulder. Ilkar went past and knelt by the Xeteskian, an arm about his shoulders.

‘Denser?’ asked Ilkar. ‘Can you speak?’

Denser gurgled and groaned, shuddering the length of his body. He gasped and allowed Ilkar to pull him upright. Even in the gathering gloom they could see his eyes dark with blood against his stark white face. He seemed years aged, and when he opened his mouth to speak, the muscles of his jaws spasmed. Blood ran from his mouth.

‘They’ve taken him,’ he managed in a voice thick with phlegm. ‘They’ve taken him to get me.’

‘What?’ Hirad was confused. ‘Taken who?’

‘The Familiar,’ said Ilkar. ‘A Dordovan mage must have captured it.’

‘Why a mage?’

‘Because no one else would have the power to keep it subdued.’ Ilkar scratched his chin. ‘Gods, this is serious.’

‘I’ve got to get there,’ said Denser, starting to rise.

‘No way, Denser.’ Ilkar held him down. ‘They’ll destroy you.’ The mages stared at each other.

‘They’ll hold him till he dies. What then? What then?’ Denser’s eyes were desperate, his body shivering with the aftershock.