《The Good Student》


 Chapter One

    Nicolav Tutt came down at a little after ten in the morning and had some breakfast. He didn¡¯t like waking up early but of course he had to on most days. You were required to turn up at school by a certain time, which meant getting up when it was still dark outside and leaving the house with his brain still snoring.


    Like many things in his life, there was no point complaining or procrastinating or trying to stay in bed for five more minutes. Things you didn¡¯t want to do but which had to be done were best dealt with quickly and without distraction.


    He finished eating and washed the dishes. He was alone in the house. His mother had gone to work and his father had died before Nic was born. He dried the dishes and put them away. He didn¡¯t like doing the washing, either, but what good would it do to leave them in the sink until later?


    It was this attitude that made Nic such a good student. And he was a very good student. Excellent.


    Most of his young life had revolved around Hammond School for Boys in the town of Hammond. It was a large town, the third largest in the country of Ranvar, and taught over a thousand boys across five grades. For the five years Nic had been a Hammond boy, he had always been first in all his classes.


    He did not have any great love for the subjects he excelled at. He didn¡¯t marvel at the wonders of science or the glories of nature. He didn¡¯t much care for the beauty of mathematics or the complexities of language. He was just good at them.


    Nic didn¡¯t consider himself all that intelligent. Certainly he wasn¡¯t gifted or a natural talent when it came to studying. His impressive achievements across the board were the results of hard work.


    He studied relentlessly. He spent his free time visiting libraries and making use of the facilities provided by the government to all who wished to use them at no charge. He understood that to do well in exams, you had to give the examiners the answers they wanted, which wasn¡¯t necessarily the same thing as giving them the answers that were correct.


    The Battle of Dek Ridge was a victory for the Ranvar Military, according to the school text books. According to other sources, the outcome wasn¡¯t so clear cut.


    The person who discovered Merrick Juice was known to be Archmage Merrick. Thanks to him, it was possible to sedate those who required surgery and so increase the survival rate dramatically. Only, a man called Perry Nabine from the neighbouring nation of Erista had made a very similar discovery three years earlier and there were documents to back this up. It would, however, be a dent to Ranvar¡¯s pride and reputation if anyone was to say this publicly. Not that they would get a chance to.


    Nic had discovered these things in dusty books in cobwebbed shelves. He liked to investigate rarely visited corners of libraries and dig out information he knew examiners would like. Information that confirmed what they believed to be true. Any information that did the opposite, Nic left to gather more dust.


    Passing exams was Nic¡¯s best subject. He knew it had nothing to do with being an expert in the topic being tested; it was all about giving people what they asked for. Fulfilling expectations received high marks in Ranvar.


    So Nic gave them the correct answers, and then some. Even answers they might have felt were somewhat dubious¡ªlike the insistence that King Ransom III was the father of King Ransom IV, even though he had been away from his wife for over a year fighting the Pelomene War¡ªNic could prove beyond a shadow of a doubt using dates and quotes from various obscure texts from the time. He understood the value of being able to turn supposition into fact, as long as they were the right facts.


    Nic didn¡¯t care about the truth, he only cared about getting good grades. He only cared about being first.


    And the reason it mattered so much to him had nothing to do with ambition or status. He didn¡¯t want to impress anyone or win their admiration. He really had no idea what career to pursue. There was only one reason he wished to excel, and that reason was a girl.


    Delzina Laurentia Delcroix. Or Dizzy. She was the daughter of a high level politician in the Ranvar government. A very important and influential figure, from what Nic had been able to piece together. So important, in fact, that very little was known about what he did. His title was Minister of Instruction, but nowhere did it list what his department did.


    Nic first encountered Dizzy when they were both small children. His mother worked as a maid in the Delcroix household. One day she took Nic with her to work and introduced him to a little girl.


    For some reason, the junior Delcroix did not have any friends. She was an only child and since they were both five years old, he was to be her companion.


    It hadn¡¯t seemed so strange at the time, just a playmate to spend time with, but years later Nic would wonder why she hadn¡¯t been found friends of her own social standing. He could only assume it was a political matter. A man as important as her father probably didn¡¯t want to show favour to one family or another, even through something as innocent as who he allowed his child to play with.


    There were plenty of historical books on the intrigues of court life that would seem to support this theory, although Nic had no idea if those historical tales still held true. There were no modern books on the subject.


    In any case, Nic had spent every day with Dizzy. After a rocky start where they cautiously eyed each other from behind their respective mother¡¯s skirts, they bonded like two halves of the same walnut.This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    Dizzy was a tomboy and fearless adventurer. There was no part of the vast Delcroix estate she wasn¡¯t willing to climb, crawl or jump off. The orchards were regularly stripped of fruit, the ponds routinely de-frogged and the stables in constant uproar.


    And everywhere Dizzy went, Nic would be not far behind, racing to catch up.


    As they grew older, tutors were brought in to teach Dizzy. She was schooled at home and resented being confined to a single room for hours on end. To help settle her, Nic was added to her classes.


    The two of them would sit side by side in small wooden desks and learn to read and write. History and music. How to paint, how to ride horses and how to dance. It was an education nobody of Nic¡¯s background would normally have access to. Of course, it wasn¡¯t for his benefit that he received it, but he became educated all the same.


    And then, one day, when he was ten years old, Nic¡¯s mother stopped taking him to work with her. Not that he would have wanted to go if she had offered. Dizzy was no longer there.


    At ten, all of Ranvar¡¯s children were required to go to their local state school. For Nic that meant Hammond School for Boys. But Dizzy didn¡¯t go to the adjacent School for Girls. She was not a regular child. She had a place waiting for her at The Ransom School.


    Only the children of the richest and most powerful families went to Ransom, founded by King Ransom I over a thousandyears ago. Its alumni went on to become the leaders of the country. Statesmen and ministers and, in a few exceptional cases, mages. They were the elite and Dizzy was one of them. Nic was not.


    After being inseparable for five years, the next five had been an agony for Nic. It was like his arm had been cut off. His mother recognised his distress but put it down to him missing his little friend. She assumed he would get over it.


    Nic couldn¡¯t get over it, but he learned to hide his grief. It was ridiculous to think he had any right to want to see Dizzy again. She belonged to an entirely different world.


    His mother thought his obsession with studying came from the time he¡¯d spent being tutored and that he would eventually obtain a high-level position in some top firm. Perhaps a clerk in an office. Such things were considered the pinnacle of ambition for those from their sort of background and it made her immensely happy to think he would be able to earn such a good living. She often boasted about his accomplishments to the other staff and even to her master, thanking him, of course, for giving her son such a generous gift. Minister Delcroix would smile and wave away her gratitude, and then wave away the rest of her. He had no idea the real reason for Nic¡¯s obsessive studies.


    The Ranvar school system required every child to be educated to the age of fifteen, after which they would sit the most important exams of their young lives. The results would determine their future, what kind of work they would be eligible for, the kind of people willing to employ them.


    But some would excel to the point where they would have the chance, if they wished, to enter the Upper Class.


    Each school in each town had two additional years of higher learning to offer the brightest students, narrowing in scope to specific areas. Those who showed aptitude for engineering or medicine or any other advanced vocation could specialise in that field. If they were successful, their prospects for employment became even better. To be an assistant to a doctor, or a clerk in a government office required an Upper Class education.


    Competition was very high. Different schools were known for expertise in different areas, so it was allowed for students to transfer to other schools if their grades were good enough. All schools opened the doors to their Upper Classes to the brightest and best. They all wanted to augment their own most talented students with those children who would raise the reputation of their institution. All schools, including Ransom.


    Of course, Ransom was no ordinary school. It wouldn¡¯t take just anybody. Of the thousands of children who sat their finals each year, the top one hundred would be listed in The Ranvaran Herald. The top ten, sometimes more, would all be students from Ransom, but lower down, student from other schools would appear. The top four of these¡ªcalled the Also-Rans¡ªwould be allowed to enter Ransom¡¯s Upper Class on a full scholarship.


    This was what Nic had spent the last five years studying for. All he had to do was place in the first four Also-Rans and then he would get to see Dizzy again.


    He knew it was a stupid thing to hang on to for five years. Most likely, she didn¡¯t even remember him. She would have been surrounded by people just like her, made friends, found her place among those she undoubtedly belonged with. But he couldn¡¯t help it. He still missed her. He wanted to see her again, even if it was just to be looked at like a stranger. At least he¡¯d know.


    Nic wandered around the house not sure what to do with himself. It was a small house, so it didn¡¯t take long for him to wind up back in the kitchen. There was no school today. Normally he would continue studying, even during holidays and weekends, but there was nothing left to study. He had sat his final exams.


    He heard footsteps outside the front door and rushed to open it. The postman stood there, going through his bag. He looked up surprised, and then smiled.


    ¡°Morning.¡±


    ¡°Hello, er, do you have today¡¯s paper?¡± Nic eyed the bag full of copies of The Ranvaran Herald.


    The postman bundled a copy with the letters he was holding and passed them over, grinning. Everyone knew today was the day the exam results were published. All around the country, children were anxiously waiting to find out their results.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± said Nic, no longer aware of the postman or of anything other than what was in his hands. He returned to the kitchen and sat down at the table.


    One of the letters was clearly his exam results. It had the examination board¡¯s crest printed on the back. He wasn¡¯t interested in opening it right now, he knew he had passed all his subjects and received high grades. He opened The Ranvarn Herald.


    It was a lightweight weekly gazette with not that many pages. Most people didn¡¯t bother reading it, even though it was free. The stories were bland and heavily vetted by the government.


    Nic¡¯s hands shook, rustling the pages as he turned them. He was confident he was the best student at Hammond, but there were many other schools, with many other students vying for a place at Ransom.


    The exam standings took up both of the centre pages. Nic ran his eyes up the list until he found his name. Nic had worked hard and prepared with greater diligence than anyone would consider necessary. He needed to come in the top four Also-Rans.


    He was second. Not out of the Also-Rans, he was second out of the entire list. He let out the breath he had been holding. Number two in the whole country, including the Ransom students. He hadn¡¯t expected that.


    It was a staggering accomplishment for the son of a maid. Around the country, people read the paper and were shocked that the name of the school next to his name wasn¡¯t Ransom. Eyebrows were raised in various corners. Ripples had begun to spread.


    It was a great relief for Nic to have achieved his goal. But for him, it wasn¡¯t his own name that caught his attention, it was the name above his at number one. Delzina Laurentia Delcroix.

 Chapter Two

    Most boys saved their pocket money for sweets or toys. Nic had no interest in either. He had a jar next to his bed that would slowly fill up with small coins and when they reached the rim, he knew he had enough to buy a coach ticket to Ranvar City, the capital of Ranvar.


    He had made the journey numerous times over the years. Not to enjoy the great city and all it had to offer, but for the one thing that couldn¡¯t be found anywhere else; the Librarium, the largest library in all of Ranvar.


    The coach trip took three hours and wasn¡¯t very comfortable. It was usually overbooked, smelled terrible and rattled your whole body as the horses thundered down the highway. There were more comfortable ways to travel but Nic couldn¡¯t afford them. Even if he could, he probably wouldn¡¯t have; he¡¯d just go more often. The more trips to the Librarium he could make, the more knowledge he could accumulate.


    It was the summer holiday and Nic had nothing to do but wait for the new term. He could have taken a little time off to enjoy himself, but he had no idea how to do that. Instead, he bought himself a return ticket to Ranvar City as soon as he was able.


    ¡°The usual?¡± asked the woman in the ticket office. He¡¯d been making this trip since he was ten years old. Everyone at the coach station knew him.


    ¡°Yes, please.¡± He paid the money and received a yellow piece of card with his destination stamped on it.


    ¡°Oh, and well done.¡± She smiled at him and nodded in a strangely disturbing way.


    ¡°Erm, thanks.¡± He smiled back and quickly made his way to the waiting coach. If he could get a seat next to a window it would be easier to breathe.


    It was early, the first coach of the day, and the sun hadn¡¯t yet warmed the air. Nic had a scarf and hat on, even though it was summer. Later, it would be very warm, but the morning coach had open windows and the air rushing through them would freeze the end of your nose off if you didn¡¯t take precautions.


    As he clambered on board, the coach driver congratulated him as well, and also smiled and nodded. If this is going to keep happening, thought Nic, I¡¯m going to have to think of a proper way to respond. He wondered if there was a book on the subject in the Librarium.


    The coach quickly filled up. Bags were meant to be put on the roof but people insisted on keeping some luggage with them. Food was often consumed. Pets were even brought. A parrot in a cage wasn¡¯t too bad. A goat on a piece of string could get problematic.


    Fortunately, there was no livestock on this trip. Nic ended up squeezed into the corner by a large gentleman who kept a small suitcase on his lap but Nic didn¡¯t mind. He had the window seat and his hat pulled down to cover his ears. He was asleep within a few minutes of setting off.


    Conserving his energy now would enable him to make the most efficient use of his time. When you had limited funds and endless requirements, it was necessary to plan carefully.


    It was ten o¡¯clock when they arrived at the coach station in the capital. It was, understandably, much larger than the one in Hammond. Coaches from many places were coming and going, and people swarmed in all directions.


    Nic hurried out of the station, weaving between the crowds with expert timing. He would feel lost in the city itself, but the journey from the station to the Librarium was as familiar to him as the walk from his front door to the garden gate.


    Ten minutes later Nic bounded up the Librarium¡¯s stone steps, eager to waste as little time as possible. He stuffed his hat and scarf into his bag. He wouldn¡¯t need them until the late-night return trip.


    The Librarium was a stone building, white and chalky on the outside, filled with endless shelves on the inside. Two large statues stood either side of the entrance, one a griffon, the other a dragon. They rose high overhead to rest their heads against each other above the doorway. They were a grand symbol of how important this place was. As a nation, the thing Ranvar prided itself most on was the knowledge it gave all its citizens access to.


    Having already passed his finals, Nic had no need to study for any particular test, but that wasn¡¯t why he was here. He had no illusions that studying at Ransom would be an entirely different proposition to what he¡¯d been accustomed to. Not only would standards be much higher, but the other students would be familiar with everything Ransom had to offer, and how to go about using it. He would be at a great disadvantage.


    ¡°Do you have any books on the Ransom School?¡± he asked the librarian at the main desk.


    There were a few scholars about, but the Librarium was mainly empty. When he had first started coming here, it was hard to get a librarian¡¯s attention. Knowledge was meant to be free for all, but they didn¡¯t take a small boy very seriously. He¡¯d had to persist to the point of annoyance, but it had been the only way.


    Over the years, the Librarium staff had grown accustomed to the little boy with the strange requests for long-forgotten books and he no longer got the long look down the nose. Until today.


    The librarian in question was one who had served Nic many times before. He was tall and thin, with a very large nose, so it took quite a long time for him to look down the length of it. He stared at Nic without answering.


    ¡°Erm, anything to do with its history, the rules, the curriculum¡­ anything?¡±


    ¡°You,¡± said the librarian. ¡°Are you the one?¡±


    Nic was baffled by the question. ¡°Which one do you mean?¡±


    ¡°The Tutt boy.¡±


    In all the years he had been coming here, no one had ever asked his name.


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Nic. ¡°Is there something wrong?¡±


    The man¡¯s face broke into a smile. He turned and said, ¡°It is. It¡¯s him.¡±


    There were a number of other librarians enclosed behind the circular desk. They all got up and rushed over to congratulate Nic and shake his hand. They were all faces he recognised, men and women, but he didn¡¯t know any of their names.


    ¡°I told you, didn¡¯t I, Mr Gerry,¡± said an excited woman who had always treated Nic like he was invisible. ¡°I knew it had to be him.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Miss Philm,¡± said the first librarian, Mr Gerry. ¡°Correct and precise, as usual.¡± He clasped his coat by the lapels like a proud father. It was all very odd. ¡°now it all makes perfect sense.¡±


    It was Nic¡¯s turn to smile and nod. He had no idea what he was supposed to say.


    ¡°Of course, you¡¯ll want to be fully informed about the Ransom School before you start there. Very smart. Very prescient.¡± Mr Gerry snapped his fingers. ¡°Toso, take Master Tutt to the stacks. Find whatever he needs.¡±


    A young man exited from behind the desk through a swinging door and came round to Nic¡¯s side.


    ¡°And then take him to a private room. 2a should be free. Get Miss Philm to help you if need be.¡±


    They all stood watching him with beaming smiles as he walked away. Very odd, indeed.


    He found over a dozen books and he didn¡¯t even have to carry them. The private room wasn¡¯t very big, but there was a table and chair and it was very quiet. It was perfect. He hadn¡¯t even known these rooms existed; he usually sat on the floor in some hidden corner with the book on his lap. It was much easier to make notes when you had a table to rest the book on.If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    There was quite a lot of information on Ransom which required copious note-taking. Official texts on the rules and regulations, reports on budget and finances, even the deeds and plans of the buildings.


    He worried he might run out of ink.


    ¡°You might be interested in these,¡± said Mr Gerry, appearing in the doorway. He carried a small tower of books. They were memoirs and autobiographies by famous Ranvarians whose names Nic recognised, even though most had been dead for centuries. ¡°They all went to Ransom and mention their school days at least in passing. I thought it might give you an idea of what to expect.¡±


    ¡°Yes, thank you,¡± said Nic, quickly getting up to take the books. He wondered if any of them had been Also-Rans like him.


    Every hour or so, either Toso or Philm would pop their head in and ask if he needed anything. It was like having servants. But the novelty soon wore off and he became immersed in his studies. Even though there was no test to be taken, the method was the same. He needed to find the answers that would fit the questions. Ransom would be a test of another kind.


    By the time the Librarium was closing, Nic had managed to get through less than half of the books piled on the table.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± said Toso. ¡°You can leave them here. Mr Gerry says you can have this room until you¡¯ve finished your studies. You¡¯ll be back, won¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Nic, ¡°but I don¡¯t know exactly when.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s alright, Mr Gerry says there¡¯s no time limit.¡±


    Nic thanked Mr Gerry and the others before he left. They all said nice things and urged him to come back soon. He made his way back to the coach station in a bit of a daze, unsure why he was getting special treatment but not unhappy about it. He didn¡¯t expect it to last, so best to take advantage of it while he could.


    The light was already fading by the time they left the city and it was pitch dark by the time they reached Hammond. Lanterns hanging from the carriage lit the last few miles although the horses had made the journey so many times they could have probably made it back blindfolded.


    Weary and lost in thought about all the things he had learned about his new school, Nic didn¡¯t notice the carriage outside his home until the horse snorted at him, startling him out of his reverie. There was a driver but his hat was wide-brimmed and pulled down low, so the face was hidden. He may have even been asleep.


    Nic skirted around the horse and opened the garden gate. There was a silhouette in the window. He lived alone with his mother, and it certainly wasn¡¯t hers.


    It was a small house and he was in the living room as soon as he stepped through the door. The man he had seen through the window turned around and Nic recognised him immediately, even though he had only ever seen him a handful of time. It was Minister Delcroix; Dizzy¡¯s father.


    Things from your past usually looked smaller than you remembered them because you were bigger, but he seemed even taller and more imposing.


    Nic looked at his mother. She seemed a little excited but otherwise untroubled.


    ¡°Ah, Niclov, how nice to see you again.¡± Nic got the very strong impression the Minister had no recollection of having met him before.


    ¡°And you, sir.¡± Nic waited. This was already the longest conversation he¡¯d ever had with the man. It was probably best to let him ask the questions.


    The Minister took out a pocket watch and flipped it open. ¡°Milly said you¡¯d be back before ten, and here you are.¡± He smiled an emotionless smile and snapped the watch shut. ¡°You¡¯ve been to the capital.¡±


    It wasn¡¯t a question but still felt like it required an answer.


    ¡°Yes, sir. I went to the Librarium to research the Ransom School.¡±


    ¡°Very wise. I can see you like to be prepared. I was very impressed when Milly told me you had been accepted to Ransom, but I had no idea how well you¡¯d done until I saw the results in the paper. Tell me, Niclov, what do you attribute your success to? Hard work? Good luck? Cheating?¡±


    Anyone else would have made it sound malicious, but there was no edge to his voice. He sounded like all the options were perfectly reasonable and none would surprise him more than the other.


    ¡°I attribute it to you, sir,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°Oh? How so?¡±


    ¡°I was your daughter¡¯s companion when I was younger. When tutors came to teach her, I sat with her, to stop her feeling lonely I suppose. Everything she learned, I learned, too. You educated me. Thank you.¡±


    Nic was careful not to sound like he was brown-nosing while making sure to flatter the Minister. He spoke simply and without emotion, mimicking the Minister¡¯s style. Exams weren¡¯t the only place Nic had learned to answer questions correctly.


    ¡°Is that so? My wife¡¯s idea, I suppose. In any case, it is a remarkable achievement. Considering my daughter was the only one to better you, I¡¯d say my wife¡¯s taste in tutors must be exemplary.¡±


    ¡°How is Miss Delcroix?¡± asked Nic, acting like it was a polite inquiry. He resisted being too familiar. ¡°I hope she¡¯s doing well.¡±


    ¡°Oh, yes. She is a child worthy of the Delcroix name. It¡¯s the other students I worry about. They¡¯re supposed to be receiving the best education available, yet a boy in a less than average state school bettered them. Perhaps the teachers should all be lined up and whipped.¡±


    Nic assumed he was joking. He wasn¡¯t sure.


    ¡°If I am in some way responsible, it¡¯s only right you return the favour, don¡¯t you think?¡±


    ¡°Er, yes, of course, sir.¡±


    ¡°Assuming you live up to your potential, I want you to come work for me when you graduate.¡±


    Nic was surprised. He hadn¡¯t expected a job offer. ¡°At the house?¡±


    ¡°No, of course not. At the Ministry.¡±


    Nic¡¯s first impulse was to ask what it was the Ministry did, but he didn¡¯t. ¡°Thank you. I¡¯d be honoured. If you think I¡¯d be worthy.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what¡¯s to be determined, isn¡¯t it? We shall see. However, as your indirect sponsor, I think I should at least give you a gift.¡±


    Nic suddenly had a vision of a coach pass for life. Travel anywhere in the country for free. He could visit the Librarium whenever he wished.


    Minister Delcroix reached into an inside pocket and took out a pen. It was thick and black with a gold clip attached to the lid. He held it out.


    ¡°I, I couldn¡¯t,¡± said Nic, absolutely meaning it. ¡°It must be very expensive.¡±


    ¡°It is. It¡¯s also impolite to refuse a gift.¡± He thrust it forward and Nic took it from him. It was the heaviest pen he¡¯d ever held.


    ¡°Thank you, sir.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re welcome. And don¡¯t sell it, either.¡±


    ¡°I, I would never¡ª¡±


    ¡°Make sure you don¡¯t. Anyway, I should be going. I¡¯ll see you in the morning, Milly.¡±


    Nic¡¯s mother had been hopping from foot to foot, grinning from ear to ear as her son was so richly rewarded. A job with one of the Ministries was more than she could have possibly dreamed for her boy.


    ¡°Yes, sir. Thank you so much, sir. I¡¯ll make sure he takes good care of your wonderful gift.¡±


    She saw him to the door while Nic held the pen he could barely get his fingers around.


    ***


    Minister Delcroix nodded farewell to his maid and walked to the small garden gate. It was a modest home, clean and well-cared for, as he would expect; the garden was trim and tidy. The gate creaked slightly when he opened it, but that was forgivable.


    The carriage door opened as he approached and closed once he got in. A few seconds later they were on the move.


    Milly was a capable maid and had never given him reason to scold or punish her. Honest, hard-working and reliable. She had raised her son on her own and by all appearances seemed to have done a commendable job. The boy was a credit to her. A credit to the town.


    As Minister of Instruction, it was his job to make sure Ranvar remained a safe and productive environment for its citizens. That meant not only being aware of conditions in the present, but also having a grasp on things to come. With recent events, stability was more important than ever. A boy like Nicolav Tutt was worth keeping an eye on.


    There was a rustle outside the carriage window. They were moving swiftly through the streets of Hammond, but something was moving just as swiftly alongside.


    ¡°You followed the boy all day?¡± said Minister Delcroix.


    ¡°Yes, master,¡± came a whispering voice through the window. ¡°He went to the Librarium.¡±


    ¡°And after that?¡±


    ¡°That was all, master. He didn¡¯t leave until he returned home.¡± The voice flickered with the wind, but Delcroix was used to his servant¡¯s loose vocalisations.


    ¡°And what did he study so hard in the Librarium?¡± asked Delcroix of the blackness outside the window.


    ¡°The Ransom School, master.¡±


    It was as the boy had said. ¡°And magic? Did he seek to prepare himself for the Royal College?¡± It would follow the boy¡¯s real goal would be to gain entry to the Royal College of the Arts.


    ¡°No, master.¡±


    No? All indications would suggest he would seek to prepare himself for the College as soon as possible. A thorough person, an ambitious person, would know the difficulties ahead and waste no time getting started. Unless, of course, that was not his goal. He could be one of those people who loved learning for its own sake. An academic.


    The boy was young and despite his huge potential, he might amount to nothing. But he might also amount to something very special.


    ¡°We have a teacher placed at Ransom,¡± said Delcroix.


    ¡°Yes, master,¡± whispered the voice.


    ¡°Instruct him to keep the boy under observation.¡±


    ¡°Yes, master.¡± There was a sharp rush of air and then an emptiness outside the window which had always been empty. The carriage left the town behind and raced up the hill to the mansion.


    If the boy had no interest in the Arts, as unlikely as that might seem, there was no shame in that. If recent events were anything to go by, it would be a much safer path to follow. And the Department always needed clerks and secretaries.


    On the other hand, if he did intend to gain powers beyond the reach of most, Delcroix was in the ideal place to guide and mould those nascent abilities and put them to good use. And if they proved to be uncontrollable, then that too would be best discovered sooner rather than later. And best discovered by the Minister of Instruction. After all, it was his job to make sure such powers were not left unchecked. Recent events had made that only too clear.

 Chapter Three

    The summer passed and the new term arrived. Nic was full of mixed emotions. Excited to be going to Ransom, the place he¡¯d marked as his destination for the last five years. Apprehensive about seeing Dizzy again. And a little worried about leaving his mother on her own.


    Ransom was a boarding school and he would be spending the next three months there, leaving his mother in an empty house. She was more than capable of looking after herself, and had many friends both in and out of work, but he still felt a twinge of guilt at going off. It wasn¡¯t like he spent very much time with her¡ªmostly he was studying in his room, or at the library¡ªbut there was a stability in knowing they were there for each other.


    Only now, they wouldn¡¯t be.


    ¡°You make sure you remember to eat,¡± said his mother as he dragged the trunk she had packed for him. It weighed more than a few items of clothes could possibly weigh and he struggled to get it out the door.


    ¡°I¡¯ll remember. They have a cafeteria for the students.¡±


    ¡°Yes, well, I know you. Probably be so lost in one of your books, all the food will be gone by the time you think to get something.¡±


    It was unnecessary fussing. There would be ample food, but he let her do it without getting impatient with her. It was her way of seeing him off without showing how upset she was. He¡¯d be back soon, but they¡¯d been together, every day, for the last fifteen years. For a mother, even the shortest separation was a chasm at first. He¡¯d read that in a book.


    ¡°What you got in there?¡± said Mr Gram who had offered to help get Nic to the coach station with the little pony wagon he used for his gardening business. The pony snorted and nibbled at some weeds.


    He was the widower who lived next door and had a thing for Nic¡¯s mother. Perhaps they would strike up a romance while Nic was away. They were both quiet people who were too shy to show their true feelings. Nic had always thought his mother should remarry and find happiness where she could, but he wasn¡¯t one to show his true feelings, either.


    ¡°Taking all your books to school with you, are you?¡± said Mr Gram.


    ¡°No,¡± said Nic. ¡°They provide the books there. This is just clothes.¡±


    They managed to get the trunk on the cart between them. Just about.


    His mother hugged him once and waved him off. She said nothing about going to the coach station with them. She was probably going to burst into tears the moment he was out of sight. All these things were normal and to be expected. It still made his chest feel tight in a way he wasn¡¯t used to.


    He climbed onto the back of the wagon, next to the trunk, and Mr Gram clicked his tongue to get the pony moving. Nic waved back until they rounded the corner.


    The coach station wasn¡¯t very far, but it would have taken all day to drag the trunk there on foot. Mr Gram helped him unload and pass the trunk to the coachman who swung it onto the top of the coach like it was full of air.


    For a second, Nic felt a pang of concern. He had been a bookworm as long as he could remember, hardly going out since the day Dizzy had left him behind. He never played with the other boys, never expressed any interest in games. Would Dizzy be disappointed at how weak and sickly he had turned out? He didn¡¯t see himself that way, but compared to other boys his age, he certainly didn¡¯t stand out as a specimen of manliness.


    It was something that had worried him on occasion, but he always had too much to do. Getting to Ransom had been his only priority and now that he had done it, it was too late to work on his physique. His father had been tall and strong, according to his mother¡¯s stories, a soldier who was honoured for his bravery. Hopefully, a little of that was locked inside of Nic, somewhere.


    ¡°Well, take care of yourself,¡± said Mr Gram. ¡°And try not to worry about your mam. I¡¯ll make sure she¡¯s alright.¡±


    Nic smiled. It was a sincere promise and Nic felt grateful for it. ¡°Thank you, Mr Gram.¡± He already had his ticket and climbed aboard the coach.


    The coach didn¡¯t normally stop at the school, most of the students being from affluent families who had their own carriages, but the coach company had happily agreed to drop him off outside the gates. He was well-known to all those at the station and his achievement was the talk of the town. They acted like they were the ones doing him a favour.


    ¡°Where are the other passengers?¡± asked Nic, sticking his head out of the window.


    ¡°Just you this trip,¡± said the driver. He cracked the reins and the horses shot forward, probably surprised at how unusually light their load was.


    Nic had travelled in one of these coaches more times than he could recall, but this time it felt very different. It wasn¡¯t just his home he was leaving behind, it felt like something altogether bigger.


    The journey took a little over two hours, although it felt much quicker. Before he knew it, they were outside the large black gates which were wide open. Carriages came and went without pause.


    These were nothing like the vehicle Nic was in. They were magnificent contraptions, painted and gilded like works of art. Even the horses were dressed up, some with feathered plumes on their heads, others with coats bearing the insignia of noble families. Some even of royalty.


    The coachman brought down the trunk as Nic stood at the gate watching the endless traffic.


    ¡°As far as I go,¡± said the coachman. ¡°You¡¯ll have to carry it yourself the rest of the way. Think you can manage?¡±


    Nic nodded, although he wasn¡¯t too sure.


    ¡°Take care, lad. I¡¯ll see you on the last day of term.¡± Nic had already paid for his return trip. His arrival and departure were all taken care of. It was just the bit in between he had to deal with.


    The coach left in a cloud of dust and Nic dragged the trunk through the gates, careful to stay out of the way of the thundering carriages going in both directions.


    Once he¡¯d navigated the gates, the Ransom School revealed itself in all its glory. Over a thousand years old and built like a palace. A series of palaces next to each other. It was a breathtaking sight.


    Nic entered the gravel-covered courtyard as a four-horse carriage barrelled past. In front of the looming buildings were hundreds of children milling around. The noise was deafening. Nic had no idea where he was supposed to go or what he was supposed to do. Everyone looked like they were perfectly at home, greeting each other, excitedly chatting away. Nic felt lost.


    Among the students were a few adults. They were recognisable not only because they were obviously older, but because of their outfits. In particular, their hats. They wore extremely tall top hats that seemed like they could have no reason for being that tall.


    These at least Nic knew about. His research into the school had told him these were the school porters whose job it was to do the custodial work. From cleaning and fixing, to carrying and moving. They would know where he was supposed to go.


    One had a hat even taller than the others. Assuming some kind of hat hierarchy, Nic approached him, the trunk digging a deep furrow into the gravel behind him.


    ¡°Excuse me, I¡¯m looking¡ª¡±


    ¡°Name?¡± said the man in a snippy voice.


    ¡°Oh, er, Tutt. Nicolav Tutt.¡±


    The man had a clipboard in his hand which he looked over. ¡°Ah, yes. Leave your trunk here and go over there.¡± He pointed a long finger across the quad to a large tree under which stood three boys.


    Nic dropped the end of the trunk he had raised. ¡°Okay. Thank¡ª¡±


    The man had already turned his back on Nic. He snapped his fingers and pointed at the trunk. Another, younger man with a slightly less tall hat came running through the crowds of boys, picked up the trunk in a swift movement, and then ran off with it.


    Nic shook his head. He really had to start doing some kind of exercise.


    He assumed the trunk would find its way to his lodgings and walked over to the tree. As he approached, weaving his way through small groups of students in their smart, expensive-looking clothes, his eyes darted about. Was she here? Would he bump into her? Would he recognise her if he did?


    Half of him was brimming with excitement at the prospect, the other half was dreading it. He¡¯d much rather encounter her when he felt more certain of his surroundings and in control of himself. But then, that might never happen.The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    He reached the tree without seeing anyone even vaguely resembling Dizzy.


    Standing by the tree were two nervous boys. One was well-dressed, tall and thin with a prominent nose. He had his hands in his pockets affecting a nonchalant pose, although his leg was bouncing up and down like he was half doing a jig. The other boy was shorter and more plump with a red face and hair that fell over his eyes. There was no doubt in Nic¡¯s mind that these were his fellow Also-Rans.


    There was a third boy leaning against the trunk of the tree, eyes closed like he was dozing. Somehow he sensed Nic¡¯s arrival and pushed himself up just as Nic got there.


    ¡°Hello,¡± said Nic. ¡°I¡¯m Nic. I was told¡ª¡±


    ¡°Ah,¡± said the dozer, ¡°you¡¯re him, are you?¡±


    It was an odd question Nic didn¡¯t know how to answer.


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure what you mean,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°You don¡¯t come second in the National Table and go unnoticed, you know? It¡¯s going to be fun and games for you.¡± He turned to the other two. ¡°You want to count yourselves lucky. Thanks to him, you¡¯ll probably manage to slip by unnoticed.¡±


    ¡°And why would that be lucky?¡± said the taller boy in a slow drawl underlining how unimpressed he was with the idea.


    ¡°Oh, you¡¯ll see.¡± He turned back to Nic. ¡°I¡¯m Mallory. I¡¯m what you might call last year¡¯s batch. I¡¯ll show you to your digs as soon as the fourth member of your party turns up.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m here,¡± said a small, female voice. The two boys stepped aside with a little jump, startled there was someone behind them. A girl stood there. She was shorter than the boys, but not by much. Her brown hair was in a severe bob, until she turned and then you could see a strip of hair about the width of a hand had been left to grow, all the way down to her waist. It was a haircut Nic had never seen before.


    ¡°Excellent,¡± said Mallory. ¡°Then let us depart¡±


    He led them past all the magnificent buildings, past the students whooping and hollering as they excitedly ran in and out of doors and called to each other from windows, past the slightly less impressive buildings at the far end, all the way, eventually, to a small, two storey cottage.


    It was set apart from the rest of the school. It didn¡¯t look like it even belonged there.


    ¡°This is us,¡± said Mallory as he led them in.


    It was modestly decorated and furnished. Doors led to four bedrooms and a very small kitchen. There was a combined bathroom and toilet, and a staircase.


    ¡°Why are we all the way out here?¡± asked the tall boy.


    ¡°I realise you have certain ideas about what coming to Ransom means,¡± said Mallory. ¡°We all do when we first arrive. But it¡¯s important you grasp the reality of the situation. You aren¡¯t wanted here. Yes, they¡¯re happy to let us come here. There¡¯s always the chance one of us turns out to be a genius, indispensable to the kingdom, even though I think that¡¯s only happened once. General Xavier, you know, the one who defeated the Larmenians? He was an Also-Ran.¡±


    ¡°Winnum Roke,¡± said Nic. He had gone looking for the same information, Also-Rans who went on to extraordinary achievements. Not because he wished to emulate them, but because they would be more likely to have written an autobiography in which they might talk about what it was like going to school at Ransom. Nic¡¯s only interest was in information he could actually use.


    ¡°Who¡¯s she?¡± said Mallory, twisting his face like he doubted she even existed.


    ¡°She was the first female Archmage of the Royal College.¡±


    ¡°Was she?¡± said Mallory. ¡°I¡¯ve never heard of her.¡±


    ¡°It was a long time ago.¡±


    ¡°What does her being female have to do with anything,¡± said the girl. It was the first thing she¡¯d said since back in the quad, and Nic had almost forgotten she was there.


    ¡°Nothing,¡± said Nic. ¡°She just was. The first female Archmage, I mean. And she was an Also-Ran.¡± They all continued to stare at him. ¡°That¡¯s all,¡± he added in an attempt to get them to stop.


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s very interesting. I¡¯m upstairs, you can choose whichever rooms you want.¡±


    ¡°Where are the others?¡± asked the plump boy.


    ¡°What others?


    ¡°The ones who came with you last year,¡± he said.


    ¡°Oh, I¡¯m the only one left. They didn¡¯t make it.¡±


    ¡°They died?¡± he said, quite shocked.


    ¡°No, no, they left. Washed out. Couldn¡¯t handle it. You guys really don¡¯t get it, do you? You¡¯re in for a rough time. They¡¯re all convinced they¡¯re superior to everyone, especially us. Far superior, and they plan on proving it to you, over and over. Especially you.¡± He aimed the last statement at Nic. ¡°They¡¯re going to teach you your place.¡± He smiled, but it wasn¡¯t a happy smile. ¡°Get ready for Hell.¡±


    Mallory turned and slouched up the stairs.


    ¡°What about our luggage?¡± the tall boy called after him.


    ¡°It¡¯ll turn up. Eventually. If they can be bothered. The staff care about us even less than the students.¡± He disappeared from the top of the stairs.


    The four of them stood there for a moment, then they all turned and went to the nearest door.


    Nic opened his to find a small, clean sparsely furnished room. There was a bed, a desk with a chair, a wardrobe and a window. There was also a strange musty smell. Nic went over to the window and attempted to open it. He tried to lift it up until his fingers hurt but it didn¡¯t budge. He really needed to do some exercise.


    ¡°I suppose we should introduce ourselves.¡±


    Nic turned to find the tall boy standing in his doorway. He came in without waiting to be invited.


    ¡°I¡¯m Redavo Conoling. You¡¯ve probably heard of my father.¡±


    Nic slowly shook his head. ¡°I don¡¯t think so.¡±


    ¡°Conoling Stores? The second largest chain of retailers in Ranvar?¡±


    Nic continued to shake his head. ¡°Sorry. I don¡¯t really do much shopping.¡±


    ¡°Who¡¯s the first biggest chain?¡± said another voice from the doorway. This time it was the plump boy.


    ¡°Miggets,¡± said Redavo with a scowl.


    ¡°Oh, I¡¯ve heard of them.¡±


    Redavo scowled harder. ¡°Of course you have.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m Fandral, by the way. Fandral Bostware. Everyone calls me Fanny.¡±


    Redavo sighed and shook his head. ¡°Look, I don¡¯t know if what misery-guts upstairs said was true, but it really wouldn¡¯t surprise me if it was. I see my father with them all the time, the nobles, the aristocrats, what-have-you. He¡¯s right, they do think of themselves as superior, but that doesn¡¯t mean they are. They can be handled if you know what you¡¯re doing. I certainly don¡¯t intend to spend the next two years of my life being looked down on. I¡¯m sure you feel the same.¡±


    Nic nodded, vaguely. It was weird. Redavo looked the same age as him, but he spoke like a man. A salesman.


    ¡°Any venture, business or otherwise, what you need is a plan. You have to know the competition and be prepared. The first step being to collect data. We need to know what exactly we¡¯re up against, and then pool our resources. This enterprise will have a much better chance of avoiding liquidation if we stick together, right?¡±


    Nic nodded again. He looked over at Fanny who was doing the same, vaguely.


    ¡°What about you?¡± Redavo said to Nic. ¡°What does your father do?¡±


    ¡°Oh. He was a soldier. He died.¡±


    ¡°My condolences.¡± He had the oddest way of acting like he was twenty years older than he actually was. ¡°And why are you here? You must have reason to work so hard. Second in the kingdom must have taken quite a few late nights. What¡¯s your end goal?¡±


    Nic didn¡¯t know what to say. Certainly not the truth. He shrugged. ¡°Not really. Get a good education, I guess. Would mean getting a better job and then I can look after my mam. She works as a maid.¡± He wasn¡¯t trying to elicit any sympathy, it just sounded like a reasonable end goal. And maybe a little sympathy wouldn¡¯t hurt.


    ¡°She¡¯s a maid?¡± The appalled tone was hard to miss.


    ¡°For someone who claims they don¡¯t like being looked down on,¡± said the girl who was now taking up the doorway, ¡°you¡¯re pretty good at it yourself. For a shopkeep¡¯s son, I mean.¡±


    Redavo¡¯s face twitched but his voice remained steady and unaffected.


    ¡°Not at all. I¡¯m not looking down on anyone.¡± He turned back to Nic. ¡°Don¡¯t tell me you¡¯re one of those learning for the sake of learning types. Don¡¯t get lost in academia, my friend. You know what they say, those who can do, those who can¡¯t teach.¡± He turned to Fanny. ¡°What about you? What does your father do?¡±


    Fanny¡¯s face flushed. ¡°He¡¯s a teacher.¡±


    ¡°What does he teach?¡± said Redavo without missing a beat. Nic was quite impressed by how he could maintain such a calm exterior under the circumstances.


    ¡°It¡¯s¡­ complicated. Lots of different things.¡±


    ¡°What does that mean?¡± said Redavo, starting to sound less composed. ¡°Surely you know what your own father teaches.¡±


    ¡°Well, um, I suppose he teaches magic.¡±


    There was a long silence before anyone spoke again.


    ¡°Where does he teach magic?¡± said Redavo, eventually.


    ¡°At the Royal College.¡±


    ¡°Your father is a mage at the Royal College of the Arts?¡± It was fairly obvious to all those present that was what Fanny was saying, but it was still worth confirming.


    ¡°Yes. That¡¯s why I¡¯m here. If I can get on the Arts Course, maybe I can get in the College, too.¡± Fanny grinned optimistically.


    Acceptance by the Royal College was not easily gained. In theory, anyone with an upperclass education could apply, but in practice, only those who attended the second year at Ransom were considered. And of those, only the select few who were chosen for the Arts Course.


    ¡°But why are you only joining Ransom now?¡± Davo seemed to find his fellow students to be a baffling bunch. ¡°He¡¯s a mage! You could easily be a regular student here.¡±


    Fanny blushed, making his already red face redder. ¡°I did try when I was younger. Failed the entrance exam.¡± He peered out nervously from under his floppy hair. ¡°It was a good thing, really. Turned me into a hard worker. Less of a disappointment.¡±


    ¡°Following in the old man¡¯s footsteps, huh? I know a thing or two about that,¡± said Redavo. ¡°Well, good luck with getting on the Arts Course.¡± He pulled a frown. ¡°I hear they practically kill each other to get selected.¡± He turned to the girl and opened his mouth.


    ¡°My name is Simole,¡± she said before he could ask. ¡°And I lost both my parents.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry to hear that,¡± said Redavo, back on familiar ground. ¡°How did you lose them, if you don¡¯t mind me asking.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d rather not talk about it. Painful memories.¡±


    ¡°Of course. My apologies.¡±


    Nic found watching the two of them fascinating. Two accomplished liars crossing swords.


    ¡°And you¡¯re here because you want to get on the Arts Course, too?¡± Davo asked.


    ¡°It¡¯d be nice if I could.¡± She said it like it was no big deal. ¡°But getting an education is the main thing. Just like Nic, here.¡± She smiled at Nic. He felt an involuntary shudder go through him. ¡°But what about you, Davo?¡± He flinched at her shortening of his name, but said nothing. ¡°Why are you here?¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t get from number two to number one by waiting for the pack leader to fall over dead. You have to take what you need. One day, I will inherit my father¡¯s business and I intend to take it all the way to the top, and that means knowing the right people and making the right connections. I didn¡¯t come here just to be marginalised and pushed to one side. These next two years are going to set the tone for my whole adult life.¡±


    He spoke with a passion that hadn¡¯t been there a second ago, Nic noted. This is what he sounded like when he genuinely meant what he said.


    ¡°Which is why it¡¯s important we set out on the right foot. Whatever our backgrounds we have one thing in common, we¡¯re smart. Unlike most of the nobs, we got here on merit. Our first classes start tomorrow and our goal is to observe and report. Once we know what we¡¯re up against, it¡¯ll be much easier to form a strategy. Trust me, we can turn whatever they throw at us into a positive. We just need to be smart and keep a low profile. They¡¯ll never see us coming. Are you with me?¡± He pumped his fist.


    It was a rousing speech. A born leader, thought Nic. He would do well whether he came to this school or not.


    Nic smiled and nodded. Although he didn¡¯t pump his fist like Davo had, he agreed with most of what Davo had said. You did need a plan in this sort of situation, and Nic had one. But keeping a low profile was not part of it.

 Chapter Four

    Mallory came skipping back down the stairs, whistling a merry tune. ¡°Right, let¡¯s go look around,¡± he said, as though he¡¯d arranged this with them.


    ¡°Look around where?¡± asked Fanny. They came out of Nic¡¯s room, a bit wary of the sudden change in Mallory¡¯s demeanour.


    ¡°The campus of course. You¡¯ll need to know where everything is. I won¡¯t always be here to tell you, you know?¡±


    They left their new home and followed Mallory back out. The sun was shining brightly and it was still warm even though summer was officially over. The sounds of excited children wafted on the mild breeze.


    ¡°We¡¯ll do a quick tour,¡± said Mallory, ¡°and then we¡¯ll have lunch at the cafeteria. That should be an eye-opening experience.¡± He chuckled to himself.


    Nic already knew the layout of the campus. He had found numerous maps in the Librarium and had copied them down in his notebook, which had helped commit them to memory. They were quite old maps, but the school probably hadn¡¯t changed very much in the last few hundred years. He was happy to get a guided tour. Seeing it in person was quite different to looking at shapes on a piece of paper.


    ¡°Over there is the main building for the school.¡± Malory pointed at the largest building which was set back from the rest. ¡°You can ignore it, only the regular students use it and we aren¡¯t regular students.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a very impressive structure,¡± said Davo, unable to hide his admiration for the many spires and turrets. ¡°Must be quite a sight inside.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t even think about it,¡± said Mallory. ¡°You won¡¯t be welcome in there. This building here, this is where first year upperclass students have most of their classes. As you can see, it¡¯s not very far from our digs, so you can get there and back without disturbing the rest of the school. Which is how they like it.¡±


    The building had the same antiquated look to it as the rest. Large and imposing, and even a little sinister. Gargoyles glared down from the walls and roof like they were considering jumping down.


    ¡°What about that building?¡± said Nic, pointing at a tower that was set to one side, rising from the middle of a group of trees. It hadn¡¯t been on any of the maps he¡¯d seen.


    ¡°Oh,¡± said Mallory. ¡°Yes. You want to stay away from the Pagoda. It¡¯s not very safe.¡±


    The Pagoda was square with multiple eaves separating its tiers. It was quite narrow and had no windows.


    They all stopped to look at the strange structure.


    ¡°Why is it unsafe?¡± asked Fanny. ¡°Will it fall down?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said Mallory. ¡°Probably not. It¡¯s Tenner¡¯s pet project. You probably don¡¯t know who that is, do you? He teaches arcanum.¡±


    Arcanum was one of those subjects not covered by most schools. It was the history of magic¡ªhow it was discovered, who the greatest practitioners were, the effects on society over the centuries. It was considered mostly useless and a lot of it barely credible. Records were sketchy at best and the majority of what was known was anecdotal.


    ¡°That¡¯s what he teaches to the first years,¡± continued Mallory. ¡°Second years, he teaches demonology. That¡¯s his true passion. Not teaching it¡ªhe hates teaching almost as much as he hates students¡ªhe¡¯s trying to actually summon demons. That¡¯s what the Pagoda¡¯s for. It¡¯s a giant antenna sending out signals to the other side, wherever that is. Sending out invitations, I guess.¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t be serious,¡± said Davo. ¡°He¡¯s made contact with demons?¡±


    ¡°Oh, no,¡± said Mallory. ¡°Of course not. No one¡¯s been able to do that for a thousand years, at least. And even then, who knows if they really did it? Tenner¡¯s obsessed with it, though. He only took up the post here because they promised to fund his research and give him this thing. No one knows what he does in there, but I wouldn¡¯t hang around it at night. You hear some pretty weird sound coming from in there. Mainly screaming.¡±


    Nic looked up and down the Pagoda like he might spot some stray crackle of eldritch light. Magic was so rare and kept away from the public that it was very rare to see something so heavily imbued with it. Even if, as in this case, it didn¡¯t actually work.


    They spent the next hour wandering from building to building with Mallory explaining what they were used for, loudly expounding on which should be avoided and which they wouldn¡¯t be allowed in. He also added his thoughts on the faculty and students, but kept most of that a lot quieter.


    Around them, students ran around, apparently on their way to start of term events and gathering. To which the Also-Rans were not invited. None of them paid the slightest attention to the group of four being led around with wide eyes and heads constantly moving around to take in the sights.


    They ended up in a long, low-ceilinged building with lots of tables and chairs. There were many such buildings on campus, Mallory explained, and this one was specifically for the upperclasses. Breakfast, lunch and supper were provided at specific times, and if you were late, then you went without.


    They took their trays and walked along the line, no different to any other school cafeteria. There were only a few other students eating, but Mallory led them to a table in a far corner away from the rest.


    ¡°Usually it¡¯s a lot busier than this, but first day back and everyone¡¯s still shaking hands and slapping each other on the back.¡± He spoke with such bitterness Nic was tempted to put some sugar in his water.


    ¡°This stuff is barely edible,¡± said Davo, putting a large forkful of overcooked carrots into his mouth. ¡°And have you noticed how similar the portions are?¡±


    Nic looked from one plate to the next. They did all look remarkably the same. Not just the same items, but the same amounts.


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if we all had exactly the same number of peas,¡± said Davo, poking around his plate.


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Mallory. ¡°The kitchen workers are the only ones who treat everyone equally in this school. Once you¡¯ve eaten here long enough, you¡¯ll probably wish they didn¡¯t. There¡¯s a tuck shop behind the library, I¡¯ll show you on the way back.¡±


    They returned to their rooms after a long walk with Mallory constantly pointing out each beautiful building and all the flaws of the people within. The old man working in the tuck shop, which sold mostly snacks and sweets, was the only one to get a positive review. He didn¡¯t seem any more friendly than anyone else, making a small grunting sound as he took their money.


    Mallory instantly disappeared up the stairs when they returned to the cottage and Davo let out a sigh of relief.


    ¡°That guy is exhausting. If he worked in one of my father¡¯s stores, he¡¯d have been fired long ago.¡±


    ¡°He is a bit of a downer,¡± said Fanny. ¡°And he¡¯s the one who made it through the first year. Imagine what the others were like!¡±


    ¡°Can¡¯t have been worse than Old Misery Guts.¡± Davo shook his head. ¡°Well, I¡¯m not going to end up like that, I guarantee you. What happened to the girl?¡±


    Nic looked around. Simole was nowhere to be seen.


    ¡°She went in her room,¡± said Fanny, indicating the door behind him.


    ¡°Amazing,¡± said Davo. ¡°I didn¡¯t even hear the door close. She¡¯s like a ghost.¡±


    It was true, she seemed to be able to disappear even when she was standing right next to you.


    ¡°The luggage still hasn¡¯t turned up, then,¡± said Davo. ¡°I suppose I¡¯ll take a nap. That pudding really landed with a thump.¡± He patted his stomach and went into his room. Nic and Fanny exchanged nods and did the same.


    The room was no more interesting than the last time he¡¯d been in there and Nic quickly became bored. He wasn¡¯t one for naps and for once in his life he didn¡¯t have any work to do. He stepped back outside to find the hallway empty. There was a tapping noise coming from upstairs that didn¡¯t bear investigating. Nic walked out of the cottage and headed across the campus. There was one type of place he was never bored in, and there happened to be one not very far away.


    The school library was on the opposite side of the school grounds but compared to the distances he usually had to travel, it was a pleasant stroll and no great inconvenience. He enjoyed exploring this alien realm with its odd architecture and ancient traditions. Structured and orderly with a plethora of rules and regulations which, rather than being restrictive, only made it much easier to understand the underlying principles that governed this place. Once you understood something, it became a simple matter to manipulate them.


    The grounds were a lot quieter now. Most of the students had greeted each other and gone inside to unpack and settle in. He casually peered into windows as he walked by, catching glimpses of fellow students, one student in particular always on his mind.


    The library was a grand affair. Much larger than the one in Hammond. He trotted up the stone steps and paused to glance at the stone statues standing either side of the entrance. Something with wings he couldn¡¯t identify. If it was based on a real creature, he¡¯d never seen it in a book, and he¡¯d read a lot of books.


    Mallory had pointed out the library but hadn¡¯t bothered taking them inside. His scathing comments about the staff came as no surprise to anyone. Nic wasn¡¯t worried, though. He was used to the judgmental glare of a disapproving librarian, and considered himself immune.


    The moment he stepped inside, he was struck with awe. He had been in many libraries in his life, but none, not even the Librarium, had made his heart flutter like this.If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    The circular building¡¯s walls were lined with books, all the way up with balconies splitting them into several floors. Their coloured spines formed swirling patterns as though an artist had carefully placed them to create a glorious mural. It almost felt like the books were moving, ebbing and flowing like waves.


    There was no sound and no people that he could see, but Nic was a veteran of too many libraries to be fooled. There was always someone around, waiting to pierce you with a questioning look. He had no idea if he was allowed in here now. He might need to be signed up for a library card, or given an induction course. He had encountered many rules and regulations in his time, all of them pointless, most of them circumventable.


    Nic quickly slipped away from the entrance and down a shadowy gap between two tall shelves that curved in perfect alignment with one another. He ran his eyes over the books, making mental notes of ones he would check on his next circuit; it would take a long time to fully explore this new world.


    Heavy wooden shelves, square and solid, immovable as castle walls, taller than he could reach, stretched out in every direction, creating passages and corridors; a maze where every route was the correct one. He reverently moved through them.


    There were books here he had never seen before, some he¡¯d never even heard of. His fingers brushed along the spines as he silently moved from one shelf to the next, quickly jumping between gaps so as not to be seen.


    As he reached about a quarter of the way around, he was able to see the middle of the library where there was an open area. There was a large circular desk behind which stood an austere-looking woman who could have been elderly with a youthful face, or young with a stooped gait. She moved slowly from one side to the other moving books for no apparent reason.


    Around the large desk were many smaller tables with chairs. These were all empty, except for one. Five students were crowded together, leaning over the books open on the table. They were too far for Nic to hear what they were saying, or more likely whispering, but he could tell they were discussing something seriously.


    It amazed him that they would already be at work when term hadn¡¯t even begun, but maybe this was the Ransom way. These might be the elite students who were destined to one day be leaders of the kingdom. Perhaps even, like Fanny, striving to join the Royal College and become mages.


    Despite the obvious divides created by background and wealth, the Royal College was the one place parents had no influence and no amount of money was enough to secure a place. He wasn¡¯t interested in becoming a mage himself, but it was admirable to see people willing to work hard to get what they wanted.


    Nic froze. One of the girls had stood up and grabbed a book from in front of another student, causing a little good-humoured complaining. The girl who had taken the book had long, dark hair that swished away from her face, and in that instance Nic recognised her.


    It was her. There was no doubt in his mind. It had been more than five years and she was completely different, yet completely the same.


    Nic ducked back out of sight. Peering from behind the corner of the shelf, he watched again.


    Of course, he knew he would bump into her at some point; it was inevitable. But he wasn¡¯t prepared, not now. She was surrounded by friends, happy. She didn¡¯t miss him, probably didn¡¯t even remember him. What was he even doing here?


    His heart was thumping in his chest and he could feel the sweat forming on his brow. He definitely couldn¡¯t allow her to see him like this. He turned and bumped into a tall woman.


    ¡°Can I help you?¡± asked the stern librarian, peering down at him. She was younger than he¡¯d thought.


    They were magical creatures, librarians. At least, to Nic they were. All-powerful in their domain, exuding authority and order, possessing knowledge far beyond that of mere mortals. They¡¯d heard of it, had seen it, knew where it was. If it existed, they could get you a copy. And they had the uncanny ability to appear out of thin air.


    ¡°Erm, no, I was just¡­¡± He stepped past her and headed towards the exit. There was a polite cough to attract his attention but he ignored it.


    Had Dizzy seen him? Did she even know he had made it into the school? Had she seen his name in the paper just below hers? No, no. There was no way. He left the library and ran down the steps and continued running all the way to his room.


    When he got back to the cottage, out of breath and his heart beating even more wildly, Fanny and Davo were sitting in the space between their rooms in front of a fire. There had been a fireplace hidden behind a covering and they had a collection of twigs on the floor which they had clearly gathered from outside.


    ¡°Pretty neat, huh?¡± said Fanny.


    ¡°We were bored,¡± explained Davo. ¡°Where have you been?¡±


    ¡°I went to the library,¡± said Nic, still breathing hard.


    ¡°And why are you out of breath?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a big library,¡± said Nic. He sat down on the floor with them. ¡°Nice fire. Are you sure the chimney works? I didn¡¯t see any smoke on the way here.¡±


    Davo threw some more twigs on the fire. They crackled and smoke blew into their faces.


    ¡°Might need unblocking,¡± said Fanny, coughing.


    ¡°There was a delivery while you were out,¡± said Davo. ¡°Our luggage. Along with textbooks and a lesson plan. We¡¯re in all the same classes, which should make things easier.¡±


    There was a thundering of footsteps down the stairs and Mallory came charging down, coughing. ¡°What are you doing?¡± he screamed. ¡°That isn¡¯t a fireplace. Put it out before you burn the house down.¡±


    They quickly put the fire out. The chimney turned out to be a dumb-waiter no longer in use and they had flooded the upper floor in smoke. Windows were opened and apologies made.


    After they had finished cleaning up the mess, Nic went to his room. His trunk was on the floor. On his small desk was a pile of books and a piece of paper telling him which lessons he had each day and in which classroom.


    He recognised the textbooks, although they were all out of date and falling apart. Also-Rans were on a full scholarship with all their academic need provided by the school. But buying new editions every year would be a waste of money. A very small waste of money, but Nic was beginning to realise the school liked to cut corners where it could.


    Davo could certainly afford his own books. He probably had the newest editions bound in rich leather and embossed in gold leaf. The others didn¡¯t appear to be from impoverished backgrounds, either.


    He picked up a book¡ªMargoly¡¯s Western Almanac¡ªand flicked through it. Pages fell out. Fortunately, Nic didn¡¯t need to upgrade any of them to the newest versions. He¡¯d already learned all he could from such basic texts.


    He woke up early the next morning and dressed in the school uniform which consisted of black trousers and jacket, a white shirt and a strange scarf he was supposed to wear around his neck like a tie. It was uncomfortable, but he hoped it would make him and the other Also-Rans stick out a little less.


    The three boys stood looking at each other in their stiff new clothes and burst out laughing.


    They knocked on Simole¡¯s door but there was no answer.


    ¡°I think she¡¯s gone already,¡± said Fanny.


    They went as a group to the cafeteria for breakfast. It was much more crowded this time, awash in a sea of chatter. One table was completely empty.


    ¡°There¡¯s no reason we have to sit there,¡± said Davo. ¡°There¡¯s plenty of room over there. And there.¡±


    They hesitated, looked at each other, and then went to the small table they¡¯d sat at with Mallory the day before. They were ignored by the rest of the students.


    The first class of the day was Military History. They arrived in the building with plenty of time to spare but finding the classroom took a while, mainly because none of them felt confident asking for directions, and no one offered.


    When they did find it on the second floor of the building, the other students were seated, including Simole, and the only empty desks were right at the back. Nic quickly looked around the class to see if she was here, but she wasn¡¯t, much to his relief. They took their seats and waited for the teacher.


    Mr Varity was a short, stout man. He had large grey sideburns and a ring of white hair around his bald head.


    ¡°Here we are, then,¡± he said as he unpacked a small case and placed a sheaf of papers on his desk. ¡°Now, I don¡¯t want any of you to think this year will be anything like last year. That was a mere skirmish, this is the real war.¡±


    There was some tittering which soon stopped when Mr Varity glared at the offenders.


    ¡°I fully expect half of you to fail the end of year exams, but by the end of the school year, you will be excessively proficient, well, most of you. So, let¡¯s...¡± He paused. ¡°What is that hand doing? Are you stretching?¡±


    ¡°I have a question, sir,¡± said Nic, his hand raised over his head.


    ¡°A question? A question? I haven¡¯t even started yet. What could you possibly have to ask? What¡¯s your name?¡±


    ¡°Tutt, sir. Nicolav Tutt.¡±


    ¡°Sounds vaguely familiar. Do you have a brother?¡±


    ¡°No, sir,¡± said Nic. ¡°I¡¯m an only child.¡±


    ¡°Well, what is it? And stand up when you¡¯re speaking.¡±


    Nic got to his feet and felt the eyes of the whole class on him. Especially Davo¡¯s.


    ¡°It¡¯s just that my old school¡¯s curriculum didn¡¯t cover quite as much as this school¡¯s.¡±


    ¡°Ah, I see. You¡¯re a¡­ transfer student. Well, then I can¡¯t say I¡¯m surprised. It¡¯s only to be expected.¡± There was more tittering, this time left unchecked. ¡°What would you like me to do about it?¡±


    ¡°I was hoping for extra lessons outside of school hours,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°And why on earth would I do that?¡±


    ¡°Because the school rules say you have to.¡±


    There was a long moment of silence before Mr Varity erupted. ¡°What on earth are you talking about? What rules?¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± said Nic calmly, but doing his best not to be provocative, ¡°it says, since Also-Ra... I mean, since transfer students won¡¯t have had the same level of instruction as Ransom students, teachers will make themselves available for private tuition. I think it¡¯s section 3, paragraph¡ª¡±


    ¡°Never mind that,¡± Mr Varity blasted at him. ¡°I don¡¯t have time to give you private tuition. I¡¯m hard pressed enough with my regular duties. Rule or no rule, it¡¯s impossible.¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir,¡± said Nic. ¡°Could I have that in writing.¡±


    Mr Varity¡¯s bald head had grown an alarming shade of red. ¡°In writing? What for?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m required to provide proof that my request has been rejected when I go to the school governors, sir.¡± Nic had spent a lot of time going over the school rules and byelaws. He¡¯d found many useful bits of information in there.


    Mr Varity was very still, except for his left eye which was twitching. ¡°I see. Well, let me look into it and I¡¯ll get back to you.¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.¡± Nic sat down.


    There were a few moments of confusion as the other students tried to process what had just happened, but eventually things settled down and Mr Varity began the class.


    Nic found the lesson pretty straightforward. It was all stuff he had already studied on his own. As well as finding the Ransom school rules, he had also found the curriculum and had made sure to be up to date on all his subjects.


    The next class was Advanced Calculations. The teacher was Mrs Finleaves and after she had gone over what they would be covering this term, she too was faced with Nic¡¯s raised hand.


    Her response was similar to Varity¡¯s, although not quite so vociferous.


    At lunch time, the three boys returned to the cafeteria, Simole disappearing again as soon as the bell rang.


    This time, they were not ignored as they took their places at the small table. Many eyes were looking in their direction.


    ¡°This wasn¡¯t the plan we agreed to, you know?¡± said Davo. ¡°Hardly keeping a low profile, is it?¡±


    ¡°If we can get some additional tuition, I¡¯m not going to say no,¡± said Fanny. ¡°Have you had a look in your Ad Calc textbook? Nothing past chapter three makes any sense to me.¡±


    ¡°Well, of course,¡± said Davo, ¡°we are obviously at a disadvantage here, and the help would be very welcome. But still, you¡¯re making a bit of a stink, Nic.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m just asking them to follow their own rules,¡± said Nic. ¡°Is that unreasonable?¡±


    Mallory appeared with a tray of food and sat with them. ¡°Did something happen? Why¡¯s everyone staring at you guys? Took nearly a month before anyone even noticed us.¡±


    They all shrugged their shoulders and kept eating.


    Things didn¡¯t continue the same after lunch. When Nic raised his hand in Law and Justice, Mr Brittum informed him he¡¯d been made aware of Nic¡¯s request for additional tutoring and he would be informed about when such classes would take place by the school office. Apparently the teachers had discussed it over lunch and perhaps checked the rule book. Nic made no further requests.


    When they returned to the cottage, there were notes slipped under each of their doors with details of their extra classes. Some were before school began, others after it finished. Economic Analysis was on Saturdays.


    ¡°I imagine they¡¯re very unhappy with you,¡± said Davo.


    ¡°Who is?¡± asked Nic.


    ¡°Everyone,¡± said Fanny. ¡°How long do you think it¡¯ll take for us to catch up to the other students?¡±


    Nic shrugged. ¡°I¡¯m already caught up.¡±


    ¡°In which subjects?¡± asked Davo.


    ¡°All of them.¡±


    ¡°You mean you don¡¯t need any of these remedial classes?¡± Davo was flummoxed. ¡°Then why did you insist on them?¡±


    ¡°Because it¡¯s hard to ask in depth questions during class. The teachers are always so busy. I thought it would be easier if we had smaller, one to one sessions with them. There¡¯s no point trying to keep up with the other students, they¡¯ve got too much of an advantage and everything¡¯s geared towards the pace they¡¯re comfortable with. I just think it would be a lot easier to not get caught up in all that, and get as far ahead of them as possible.¡±

 Chapter Five

    It was barely light outside when Nic was woken by incessant banging on his door. He opened one eye and fumbled for the pocket watch on his bedside table. It had belonged to his father and had numerous dings and dents covering the silver casing. 6.30 AM.


    ¡°Hey!¡± called a voice through the door. ¡°This was your idea, you could at least not make us wait.¡±


    It was Davo¡¯s voice and he sounded far too chipper for this early.


    ¡°One minute,¡± Nic shouted back as he stumbled out of bed.


    Their first extra lesson was set for 7 AM with Mr Tenner, the arcanum teacher. All the lessons Nic had asked for had been granted, and all were either before or after regular school hours.


    Nic quickly got dressed. He wasn¡¯t much of a morning person, most of his studying was done late at night. He struggled to get his clothes on the right way round.


    When he finally opened the door, Davo and Fanny were standing there. Davo was bright-eyed and his clothes looked like they¡¯d been pressed and ironed. Fanny was yawning and blinking to get the sleep out of his bleary eyes.


    ¡°Have I got time to brush my teeth?¡± asked Nic.


    ¡°No,¡± said Davo. He held out Nic¡¯s toothbrush. ¡°You can do it on the way. We don¡¯t want to give anyone reason to be more upset with us than they already are, don¡¯t you think?¡±


    Nic took the toothbrush, stuck it in his mouth and pulled his door closed. He stopped when he realised there was one more person waiting for him.


    ¡°Oh, are you coming, too?¡±


    ¡°I thought I might as well,¡± said Simole. ¡°You did arrange for us to all get these remedial lessons.¡±


    ¡°Actually,¡± began Fanny, ¡°Nic doesn¡¯t need¡ª¡±


    ¡°We better get going,¡± cut in Nic. ¡°Don¡¯t want to keep Tenner waiting.¡±


    They walked across the campus in silence. Davo led the way with Nic beside him. Fanny seemed to need two steps for every one of Davo¡¯s to keep up. Simole, who was the shortest, had a way of gliding along like she was putting no effort into her movements, but somehow threatened to overtake everyone if she did.


    It was cold. And grey. Not just the weather¡ªeverything. It all looked different in the early morning light. It all looked cold and grey. It wasn¡¯t deserted, though. People were running around doing all sorts of things. Men in tall hats were carrying boxes or books or pieces of equipment that didn¡¯t look familiar but probably had some important function.


    Nic watched them scurry around, occasionally pausing or speeding up to get out of their way. Other men in regular workman clothing and without the odd hats tended the plants and cut the grass. It was a very different kind of activity to when the other students were around. It was a lot quieter, for a start.


    ¡°If we¡¯re going to do this every morning,¡± said Fanny, huffing to stay level, ¡°we should sort out provisions. I don¡¯t function well at this time without sugar and coffee.¡±


    ¡°What are you talking about?¡± said Davo. ¡°I¡¯ve never seen you drink coffee.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve never seen me up this early, either,¡± said Fanny. ¡°How are we supposed to concentrate if we¡¯re half asleep?¡±


    ¡°Speak for yourself,¡± said Davo. ¡°My father used to make me work at his store every morning before school. ¡®If you¡¯re going to run this place one day, you need to know every inch of it,¡¯ he¡¯d say, and kick me out of the house while it was still dark.¡±


    Nic smiled. Despite his complaints, it was obvious Davo was proud of his father and considered his upbringing to be like a soldier going through boot camp. A soldier who couldn¡¯t wait to get into the battle.


    ¡°This is nothing,¡± Davo continued. ¡°All we have to do is sit and listen to some mumbo jumbo about demons. I had to clean out a whole warehouse with an old broom and then wash the windows with a bucket of cold water and some rags. Every day.¡±


    Davo continued to wax lyrical all the way across the quad, into the school building and into the classroom they¡¯d been assigned.


    ¡°And I¡¯d still arrive at school before everyone else. I tell you, children these days are spoiled rotten.¡±


    They took the seats at the front, which they never did during their regular classes. They were always expected to disappear into the back while the ¡®real¡¯ students got all the benefits.


    Mr Tenner walked in a few seconds later. He was a tall, narrow man. Everything about him seemed squashed together. His eyes were too close, his mouth was permanently pursed and his nostrils seemed far too thin to provide an adequate intake of air. He stopped at the desk, turned and smiled. It was a narrow smile.


    ¡°So, you are this year¡¯s Also-rans.¡± It was a term the teachers didn¡¯t usually employ, at least, not in front of the students. ¡°Eager to be educated to the fullest. Isn¡¯t that right?¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir,¡± mumbled the Also-rans, not really sure if an answer was required.


    ¡°Good, good. Now, where shall we start? From the beginning?¡±


    Mr Tenner was the teacher Mallory had characterised as hating teaching with a strong dislike for those he had to teach, but he had been the only teacher not to be taken by surprise by Nic¡¯s request. He agreed immediately and carried on with the class, as though he¡¯d expected to be asked. This was before the faculty had had a chance to discuss the matter.


    ¡°Erm,¡± said Nic, still not sure if the questions were rhetorical or not, ¡°we only need to know what the other students already know.¡±


    ¡°Is that right? Tutt, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir.¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir,¡± repeated Tenner. ¡°You¡¯re a very interesting boy, Tutt. Quite the hot topic of conversation in the teachers¡¯ lounge. Oh yes, everyone¡¯s dying to know how an Also-Ran managed to climb so high in the national rankings. It¡¯s quite the mystery. Of course, I know.¡±


    Nic looked up. He wasn¡¯t hiding anything but still felt like he was about to be found out. It was an unsettling sensation.


    ¡°You see, I decided a boy as remarkable as you, Tutt, deserved to be looked up. So I did. I requested your exam papers from the finals. What interesting reading they made. Do you know why?¡±


    Nic shook his head. ¡°No, sir.¡±


    ¡°Because I¡¯ve never seen such a perfect forgery.¡±


    Nic was too shocked to speak. Was he being accused of cheating? What had he forged? He confusedly turned to the others, but they just returned his confusion with interest.


    ¡°I¡­ I don¡¯t understand what you mean, sir,¡± Nic finally managed to stutter. ¡°Are you saying¡­ What are you saying?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m saying you¡¯re a big faker, Mr Tutt. A big, fat fake. The answers you gave to the examination, while excellent answers they may have been, were beautifully crafted forgeries. Copies of answers, but not the answers themselves.¡±


    Things were getting no clearer, but Nic did feel like he was being accused of something. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, sir, but I didn¡¯t cheat. Really, I didn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Cheat?¡± said Tenner. ¡°No, boy, you misunderstand me. I¡¯m not saying you did anything wrong. Far from it. You provided exactly what the examiners wanted from you, even though they probably didn¡¯t realise it. Quite masterful. You know, it takes no less skill to forge a great piece of art as it does to make one. To be able to convince everyone they are seeing the real thing, it¡¯s quite an achievement.¡±


    Mr Tenner put the tips of his fingers together in a tent and tapped them together.


    ¡°But it isn¡¯t honest. You told them what they wanted to hear, not what you truly thought. Nothing wrong with that, of course. Great careers are built on such misrepresentations. But it is a dangerous mindset to take into the arcanum.¡±


    Nic felt a bit dizzy. He was on the verge of something. An allegation, a castigation or possibly a pat on the back. It was hard to tell.


    ¡°The arcanum requires you to set aside all sense of self. Your ego, your self-worth, your pride. You can¡¯t trick the arcanum. You have to be able to see yourself as you truly are. That¡¯s why there are so few mages. And even fewer great ones. I hope you weren¡¯t planning on practising magic, Mr Tutt.¡±


    ¡°No, sir,¡± said Nic. ¡°I hadn¡¯t really given it any thought.¡± His heart had stopped pounding. He was beginning to understand what this teacher was doing. He was teaching arcanum.


    Unlike the normal class where information was delivered in long, dry lectures, here they were being walked through a simulation of what it was like to be inside the arcanum.


    ¡°I doubt there¡¯d be much chance of a trickster like you passing the First Test, let alone the rest. And you must certainly never associate with any demons. If you approach a demon with deceit in your heart, your soul will quickly be devoured. Lickety split.¡±


    The room was silent. The talk of demons had surprised them all. Mr Tenner hadn¡¯t mentioned them even in passing during their regular class. It was all set readings and long lists of dates. Arcanum was a dry and pedantic subject.


    ¡°Do demons really exist?¡± squeaked Fanny, his voice barely carrying.


    ¡°Why of course they do,¡± said Tenner. ¡°Where else do you think mages draw their power if not from the demonic planes?¡±


    ¡°But I mean on this plane,¡± said Fanny, a little more confidently. ¡°Can they cross over?¡±


    ¡°Ah, well, that¡¯s the question, isn¡¯t it? They were certainly capable of it once, but now¡­¡± There was a wistful look in Tenner¡¯s eyes. ¡°But if one does happen to find its way back, then do make sure to be as honest as you can in its presence.¡± He was looking at Nic again. ¡°For all our sakes.¡±


    ¡°What if you make it believe your lie?¡± asked Nic.


    It was Tenner¡¯s turn to be surprised this time. He sat back and tapped his chin with a long finger. ¡°Then you would have yourself a bound demon. A marvellous way to gain supremacy over the world. Or possibly to end it.¡± He smiled. ¡°Do you know what else I discerned from reading your papers, Mr Tutt?¡±


    Nic was afraid to ask. He shook his head.


    ¡°I very much doubt you need extra lessons to catch up with the other students. In fact, I would guess you are already far in advance of most of them. Which raises the question, why would you then want to burden yourself with extra lessons you didn¡¯t need?¡± He looked at Nic expectantly.Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Nic thought about how best to answer the question. He would have rather not answered it at all, but Mr Tenner seemed to be willing to wait.


    ¡°I don¡¯t need to catch up, that¡¯s true.¡± He tried to keep his voice steady. There was an excellent chance this would completely backfire. ¡°I thought if I had the opportunity to speak to my teachers in a less¡­ crowded environment, I could better understand some of the things I¡¯ve studied outside of the curriculum. On my own.¡±


    Tenner nodded. ¡°So you arranged for private tuition.¡± He wagged his finger at Nic. ¡°Devious. Very devious. Perhaps a demon really has crossed over to this side. Maybe I should take you to my tower and do experiments on you, Mr Tutt.¡±


    There was a smile on Tenner¡¯s face, but it didn¡¯t look very jolly. Nic¡¯s blood ran cold.


    ¡°I¡¯d honestly rather you didn¡¯t, sir.¡±


    Tenner laughed. ¡°I believe you! So, you wish to expand your understanding of arcanum, then let us proceed.¡± Despite his unravelling of Nic¡¯s motives, Mr Tenner, much to Nic¡¯s surprise, was willing to continue with the lessons.


    They left the classroom after more than an hour of very tangential teaching. Nic sensed he had a better understanding of arcanum, but not in a way he could explain. The others were equally puzzled by the unorthodox lesson. The group silently crossed the campus to the cafeteria; to find it closed. They had missed the breakfast serving.


    ¡°No!¡± cried out Fanny. ¡°No, no, no.¡±


    They proceeded to their first official class of the day, stomachs complaining, but not as much as Fanny.


    They attended lessons as normal, sitting at the back of each class, taking notes and being ignored. Nic had nothing to learn in these classes and spent his time thinking about the things Tenner had said. They seemed to take on a new meaning every time he considered them.


    At lunchtime, Fanny rushed off to the canteen like he feared it too would close before he could get there. By the time Nic and Davo arrived, he was already at their small table stuffing his face. Beside him, eating with slightly more restraint, sat Simole.


    ¡°Decided to join us, then?¡± said Davo as they sat down with their trays.


    ¡°I have to eat, like everyone else,¡± said Simole.


    ¡°Really?¡± said Davo. ¡°I thought you might be a vampire. Flitting out of your bedroom window to feast on the blue blood of our fellow students.¡±


    ¡°Would be a bit of a thin and watery meal,¡± said Simole.


    Davo laughed and the others stifled their sniggers, guiltily looking around in case anyone had heard them. By the time they got to pudding, even Fanny had stopped whining and there was a pleasant atmosphere around their small, sidelined table. Until a shadow loomed over them.


    They all looked up to see a boy standing at the end of the table. He held a tray of empty plates, on his way to return them. He stood there saying nothing but fixedly glaring at them. Then he turned and left.


    ¡°What was that about?¡± whispered Fanny, not wanting to attract the strange boy back.


    ¡°That, Fanny, was what we in the business world call tagging.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s tagging?¡± Nic and Fanny asked together.


    Davo smiled benevolently, always happiest when he was in a position to share his wisdom. ¡°Tagging is when you let your competitor know you have him in your sights. A declaration of war! But on a smaller scale.¡±


    ¡°He wants to go to war with us?¡± said Fanny, shocked.


    ¡°Well, not literally, at least I hope not. He just doesn¡¯t like us. Intimidation tactics.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± said Fanny. ¡°He¡¯s trying to bully us.¡±


    ¡°Exactly,¡± said Davo. ¡°Psychological warfare. A weapon to use against the feeble-minded, so we should be fine. Fanny, do your best.¡±


    ¡°Wait, why did you single me out?¡±


    The afternoon lessons passed without incident and then they had another extracurricular lesson to attend, this time with Mr Varity, the Military History teacher.


    They trudged to the classroom and entered warily, ready to meet resistance and probing, just as they had with Mr Tenner. Maybe even more so. Mr Varity had been the most set against these lessons. But Mr Varity didn¡¯t ask any pointed questions or try to ascertain Nic¡¯s true reasons for asking for these lessons. He seemed to be in a hurry to get his obligation over with as quickly as possible and launched into the basic principles of an aggressive foreign policy without even a word of hello.


    It was a basic retelling of how the tiny nation of Ranvar had become a powerful force despite being surrounded by far larger neighbours. Nic was more than familiar with the authorised version¡ªbrinkmanship, savvy negotiations and a tactical use of small but highly trained military forces. He was also well aware of how incomplete that version was.


    But along with the familiar names and dates that he¡¯d been taught at Hammond, Mr Varity included a host of new details. Departments involved in specific treaties, ministers responsible for establishing relationships with foreign powers, and even the names of special forces teams that were deployed to ¡®encourage¡¯ diplomatic solutions.


    It was the nearest Nic had ever come to hearing a teacher admit the truth about Ranvar¡¯s well-known policy of full contact diplomacy. Well-known outside of Ranvar, that was.


    Nic had found enough indirect accusations and circumstantial evidence in foreign books¡ªbooks that were incredibly hard to get hold of¡ªto surmise how Ranvar conducted itself on the world stage. It made no difference to Nic, he was hardly in a position to judge the methods of his elders and betters. Keeping such information out of the public domain did make it look a little underhanded, but there could be any number of valid reasons for that. No doubt other nations conducted themselves similarly, if not worse.


    Ransom students, however, were apparently expected to have a more realistic understanding of how their government worked. Which made sense, since most of them would be running the government soon enough.


    Nic made copious notes, checking spellings of names so he could research them further in his own time. These were exactly the kinds of details that earned extra marks on exams.


    After an hour, they were released to go about their business. Mr Varity had been efficient, patient and thorough. As soon as they finished, he rushed off.


    The school building was deserted, the other students long gone, off to their after-school clubs and sports teams. All activities the Also-Rans had not been invited to or offered the chance to join.


    ¡°By the time we get back to the cottage we¡¯ll have to come back for supper,¡± said Fanny. It was a bit of an exaggeration, but the point was valid. It wasn¡¯t really worth going back. And Fanny was determined to not miss another meal.


    ¡°We could go to the library,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°That¡¯s a good idea,¡± said Davo. ¡°I¡¯ve been meaning to go have a look.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll see you back at the cottage,¡± said Simole. She turned and walked off.


    ¡°I think she¡¯s warming to me,¡± said Davo. ¡°It¡¯s only a matter of time now.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think so,¡± said Fanny. ¡°You¡¯re probably too thin and watery for her tastes.¡±


    They walked the short distance to the library and carried their leaden bags up the steps. Inside it was busier than the last time Nic had visited. There were small pockets of students in the central part, with smaller groups roaming the shelves.


    ¡°Wow,¡± said Fanny. ¡°I¡¯ve never seen so many books.¡±


    ¡°Something of a missed opportunity,¡± said Davo. ¡°You could easily install a small kiosk in that corner and charge the students for drinks and snacks.¡±


    Nic had a very good idea of how the librarians would react to such a non-academical intrusion. He wouldn¡¯t have minded a hot chocolate, though. It had been a long, tiring day.


    ¡°Where do we go?¡± said Fanny. All the tables appeared to be occupied and they knew how a request to share would be treated.


    Nic already had somewhere in mind, a hidden nook he had spotted last time. He led the others without needing to speak; they instinctively fell in behind him as he wandered around the back of the endless shelf-lined passages, expertly avoiding the other students.


    The table walled off by three bookcases was unoccupied and they set up camp. They had assignments to do and Nic was confident he could complete at least one before the cafeteria opened for the dinner service. Books quickly filled the table.


    As they worked, quietly asking questions of each other, but mainly of Nic, the library slowly emptied. The main student dorms were a lot closer than the cottage, so the other students could easily return to their rooms and not be late for supper. The three boys scribbled away in their notebooks until they once again felt a shadow encroach.


    Nic looked up expecting to see the same boy again, but this time it was another boy. This one also didn¡¯t seem very friendly, but not quite so hostile. He had dark slicked-back hair and a collection of gold rings and bracelets. His school uniform, identical to theirs, looked like it had been tailored to fit the exact pose of superiority he was affecting and no other.


    ¡°You. Tutt?¡± It was a very brusque greeting.


    ¡°Yes. Me, Tutt,¡± said Nic.


    Davo barked out a laugh and quickly converted it into a cough.


    The boy was unamused. ¡°Do you know who I am?¡±


    Nic shrugged. ¡°Sorry, I don¡¯t.¡±


    The boy nodded, like he had expected this to be the case and saddened to find he was right.


    ¡°I¡¯m Brillard Epsteem.¡±


    He seemed to be waiting for some kind of recognition. ¡°Oh,¡± said Nic. ¡°Hello Brillard.¡±


    ¡°Hey, Brill,¡± chimed in Fanny.


    ¡°Yo, Brillo!¡± added Davo.


    Brillard narrowed his gaze, trying to work out if he was being mocked. Nic would have thought it fairly obvious that he was.


    ¡°I¡¯m president of the Ransom Standard Club.¡± He left another pregnant pause, but this time Nic had actually heard of the club. It had been mentioned in many of the books on Ransom in the Librarium.


    ¡°Oh, right. That¡¯s the club for the top students.¡± Nic smiled hoping his answer would please the sour-faced boy.


    ¡°It¡¯s not a secret club, is it?¡± said Fanny. ¡°My father said I shouldn¡¯t join any secret clubs. They blindfold you and make you put horrible things in your mouth.¡±


    Nic hadn¡¯t read about any clubs like that, but he didn¡¯t doubt their existance. Fanny¡¯s father was an alumnus, so he would know. It didn¡¯t sound very appealing.


    ¡°Of course they don¡¯t do things like that,¡± said Davo. ¡°Do you?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said Brillard trying not to lose his temper. ¡°We aren¡¯t secret, we¡¯re exclusive. Only the most exemplary students are allowed to join. Tutt, I¡¯m here to offer you the chance to become a member.¡±


    ¡°A chance?¡± said Nic.


    ¡°Yes. There¡¯s an interview process, some tests and a six month probationary period. We all had to go through it. Helps weed out the riff raff.¡± He glanced over at Davo and Fanny.


    ¡°Oh, right,¡± said Nic. ¡°Thanks.¡±


    ¡°Good. First thing you need¡ª¡±


    ¡°But I think I¡¯m fine as I am.¡±


    Brillard¡¯s face reddened. ¡°What¡­ what¡­¡± he spluttered. ¡°What are you saying? Are you turning us down?¡±


    ¡°Oh, no,¡± said Nic. ¡°I¡¯m just not the sort of person you¡¯re looking for. You all intend to apply for the Royal College, don¡¯t you?¡± He¡¯d read about the club¡¯s high acceptance rate for the college. Joining the Standard club would benefit anyone serious about becoming a mage.


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Brillard. ¡°That¡¯s the purpose of our club.¡±


    ¡°So there¡¯s no point. I don¡¯t have any interest in magic.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t?¡± This seemed to mollify the boy. ¡°I see. I suppose that makes sense.¡± He turned around and walked away.


    They watched him go back to his group, animatedly telling them what had happened. All the boys had the same slicked-back hair. All the girls¡­ Dizzy was sat at the table. Nic raised the book he was reading so it formed a wall he could hide behind.


    Did she know it was him? Had the invite been from her? She wasn¡¯t looking in this direction, wasn¡¯t one of those listening to the president hold court.


    ¡°You could have joined the best and the brightest,¡± said Davo.


    ¡°After they blindfolded you and made you eat unsavoury objects,¡± added Fanny.


    Nic shrugged. ¡°Just be another Bloodless War.¡± He flipped the pages and sneaked a look over the top of the book. The Standard Club were leaving, taking Dizzy with them.


    ¡°What¡¯s has the Bloodless War got to do with anything?¡± asked Davo.


    ¡°Same method,¡± said Nic, lowering the book.


    ¡°Is that so, Mr Tutt?¡± said a voice from behind them, making them all jump.


    Nic turned to find Mr Varity standing there, two books in his arms and his glasses halfway down his nose.


    ¡°Did my ears deceive me? Am I right in thinking you just refused an invitation to the prestigious Ransom Standard Club because of the Bloodless War?¡±


    ¡°Ah, yes, sir.¡±


    ¡°And how does a five hundred year old war pertain to this matter, Mr Bostware.¡± Suddenly he had redirected the question at Fanny.


    ¡°Ah, um,¡± said Fanny. ¡°Well, er, the Bloodless War came after the defeat of the Corilean Empire.¡± It was the only thing he could remember about the Bloodless War.


    ¡°Yes. Factually accurate. Well done. And how did the smaller armies of the Ranvarian Kingdom defeat the mighty Corilean Empire?¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± said Fanny, ¡°I know¡ª¡±


    ¡°Mr Conoling?¡± Varity switched across to Davo.


    ¡°Ah, they formed an alliance with Fordor, their neighbour and oldest enemy.¡±


    ¡°Indeed. Joining forces to defeat their common enemy. And what happened to Fordor after the defeat of Coril?¡±


    ¡°Ooh,¡± said Fanny. ¡°We invaded Fordor and they surrendered immediately. The Bloodless War.¡± He beamed at his own achievement under adversity, not really sure why he was being forced to remember these archaic facts.


    ¡°And how was that possible? Wasn¡¯t Fordor a nation of comparable size to Ranvar?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Fanny, suddenly realising he didn¡¯t know why they Fordorians had capitulated so easily. ¡°That is¡­¡±


    ¡°Mr Tutt, perhaps you could enlighten your friend.¡±


    ¡°Ranvar offered to help modernise Fordor during their alliance. Rebuilt its roads, its sewers, repaired its defences. By the end of the war with the Corileans, Fordor infrastructure was almost completely Ranvarian built. We knew their strengths and weaknesses, controlled their basic utilities and transportation routes. They were dependent on us, and we could cut them off anytime we wished. It was easier to just give in.¡±


    ¡°And the Standard Club? You believe they would use you to their advantage and then cast you aside when it suited them?¡±


    ¡°Most likely, sir.¡±


    ¡°You may well be right, young man. A very insightful analysis of the Bloodless War, Mr Tutt. I don¡¯t believe I¡¯ve heard it put better or more succinctly, especially since most records have been expunged. You might even be arrested were you to repeat what you just said publicly.¡± He smiled. ¡°Which begs the bigger question, why would anyone with such an in-depth knowledge of Ranvarian history need to take up my valuable time with supplementary classes?¡±


    ¡°Ah, well, that is¡­¡±


    Tenner¡¯s lecture on being honest had struck a chord a little too strongly with Nic. He needed to remember too much honesty had its own drawbacks. Offending demons was something to be wary of, but there were plenty of other, more immediate dangers to watch out for.

 Chapter Six

    After a week of waking up early and staying after school, Nic felt worn down. It was just as well the Also-Rans didn¡¯t have to partake in the usual extra-curricular activities of a Ransom student as he barely had the energy to cope with their current schedule.


    On the weekend, students arranged outings and trips into the capital. Others played games and sports. The campus was no less busy just because there were no classes.


    Nic thought he would at least get to sleep in on Sunday, but alas it wasn¡¯t meant to be. He was roused from slumber by a cacophony outside his door. The chill morning air bit at his nose and he didn¡¯t want to leave the warmth, but the noise was too loud to ignore. He stumbled out of bed with the blanket wrapped around him like a cloak and poked his head outside.


    Davo stood in the small hall between the rooms, directing men carrying large pieces of furniture.


    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± Nic mumbled.


    ¡°He¡¯s been shopping,¡± Fanny mumbled back from the other side of the hall. He was wrapped in similar fashion and just as bleary-eyed, but had a half-eaten banana in his hand. Ever since the tragedy of missing breakfast, Fanny had stocked up on food and snacks and now had a constant supply. Never again would he go hungry for more than five minutes.


    ¡°You aren¡¯t the only one who can read the rule book, you know?¡± said Davo, waving a copy of the Ransom School Rules & Regulations at him. ¡°Bring that one through here.¡± He indicated towards his room and the men carrying an antique chest of drawers dutifully obliged. ¡°If we aren¡¯t housed within the main school, we¡¯re allowed to furnish the dwellings ourselves. Thanks to Conoling & Sons, this place is going to be a dwelling worth residing in. You won¡¯t recognise the place once I¡¯ve finished with it. Careful with that! Don¡¯t chip the corner!¡±


    Davo hurried off to make sure a wardrobe made of a rich dark wood wasn¡¯t damaged as six men tried to thread it through the doorway. He seemed to be utterly in his element and having far more fun than anyone had a right to so early on a Sunday.


    Nic returned to his room and tried to go back to sleep but it was impossible with the racket going on. He got up again, dressed and then left.


    Outside, there were four wagons with the Conoling logo on the side. They were filled with furniture, rugs, lamps and assorted other items. Nic wondered how Davo could possibly fit so much into his room which was the same size as Nic¡¯s.


    The campus was quiet this early, although no doubt later there¡¯d be whoops and cheers from the playing fields disturbing the cool autumn air.


    The rest of the school existed in a separate world, one he wasn¡¯t invited to. Students lived in dormitories with a House Master, a teacher who doubled as chaperone, advisor and guardian. Most students had attended Ransom since they were ten years old and their relationships with each other and with their teachers were well established. Everyone knew who was who and who did what and they slotted into their appointed roles in a very relaxed manner. You could see in the way they responded to each other how comfortable they were with being members of such a revered and lauded institution. To be a Ransom boy or girl was a badge of pride and, in most cases, a guarantee of future success.


    Sports teams and hobby clubs abounded. They had their captains and presidents and secretaries and treasurers. There was a school newspaper run by students, a Poet¡¯s Society that gave public recitals, even an Angler¡¯s Association¡ªnotable catches were reported in the Ransom School Weekly. Nic often read through the list of clubs in the back of the school activities pamphlet that had come with his text books. He did this most nights as it helped him nod off to sleep.


    He had the whole list more or less memorised, including the names of the students who ran each group, and the teachers who oversaw them. If you wanted to join, you had to contact a designated officer of that club. Chances were, neither he nor the other Also-Rans would have been very welcome. Most likely, they would have been forced to undergo a humiliating ritual¡ªthe kind Fanny¡¯s father had warned them about¡ªand then treated like servants.


    Nic had no desire to play hockey or improve his chess. He had only wanted to check the names for one particular person, and she wasn¡¯t mentioned anywhere.


    Nic made his way to the cafeteria and had breakfast alone at their regular table. The place was entirely empty, but he still chose to sit in the corner. Halfway through his porridge, Fanny turned up.


    ¡°He¡¯s tearing down walls and building something,¡± he said from behind a mountain of pancakes. ¡°Probably an indoor gazebo.¡±


    Nic smiled. It was unlikely, although not impossible. ¡°I think the place could use a fresh coat of paint.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m glad you feel that way,¡± said Fanny placing a whole pancake into his mouth in one go. ¡°When I left him, he was in your room choosing new wallpaper.¡±


    Nic left Fanny working on his second helping and went to the library. As soon as he walked through the doors he felt the relief of no longer having to deal with the strange, alien world he had landed on.


    The library solved all problems. It used up his free time, gave him access to a limitless supply of knowledge and kept him away from suspicious teachers.


    Having convinced Mr Varity his superior insights about The Bloodless War were due to his father telling him bedtime stories about it, and not a general expertise in Military History, he had decided to stay out of the way of students and teachers alike. A library was an excellent place to practise keeping your mouth shut.


    The fact his father had been a soldier lent some credence to his explanation, although he died before Nic was born, so he¡¯d have to hope Mr Varity didn¡¯t check the dates. He was a historian so he might well do exactly that, but hopefully not before Nic had had a chance to come up with a secondary-ruse. A weak first lie could work to your advantage if you expected it to be caught.


    And the other great thing unique to this particular library was that it allowed him glimpses of the girl he had spent most of his life chasing after.


    Usually, the others would be with him, other times he¡¯d be on his own. Their regular table in the library was always empty. The poor lighting and cramped space between shelves made it an unpopular choice with the other students. Nic would sit and read, take notes, and spy on Dizzy.


    She would be there most evenings, always surrounded by a large group of fellow members of the Standard Club. A club he could have joined.


    Sometimes all he¡¯d see was a swish of her long, dark hair. Or maybe a hand writing in a notebook. It wasn¡¯t easy to see across the library and through a crowd. He always made sure to stay out of sight and tried not to waste too much time gawping. But it was hard not to stare.


    After having travelled so far he had finally arrived only a few metres from her and couldn¡¯t seem to get any closer.


    The truth was he feared how she might react and putting it off was much easier than walking over and saying hello. He knew it was cowardly, but a little more time to get himself settled was all he needed, or so he told himself.


    Just a casual conversation, two old friends meeting up, was how he envisioned it. A light, fun walk down memory lane. Or not. He was usually snapped out of his wistful reverie by the thought of her blanking him and acting like she had no idea who he was. Or even worse, genuinely having no idea who he was.


    The library had only just opened and was entirely empty, not even the Standard Club were in residence this early on a Sunday. Nic decided it was time he faced his fears, starting at the bottom, and walked up to the main desk.


    The librarian was there, tending to a large tome that looked like it was a thousand years old, which it very well might have been. She appeared to be polishing the aged, red leather with an oily cloth.


    ¡°Er, excuse me.¡±


    The librarian looked up. ¡°Yes?¡± It was the same lady who had accosted Nic on his first visit, although she didn¡¯t seem to recognise him. Nic knew better. A librarian didn¡¯t forget a face, or a spine.


    ¡°I was wondering if I could apply for a library card.¡±


    The librarian lowered her glasses slightly, slipping them down her long nose. Nic wasn¡¯t intimidated, it was a move he¡¯d seen many times. He suspected it was taught as part of librarian training.


    ¡°You¡¯ve lost your card?¡± She didn¡¯t sound impressed. She breathed in deeply. ¡°See your House Master about a replacement form. Fill it in. Fully. And then hand it in. If all sections are correctly completed, I will issue you a replacement card. There is a fee. You can pay it when you hand in the form.¡±


    ¡°No, I never had one. And I don¡¯t have a House Master. I¡¯m new.¡±


    She pushed the glasses back up with a long, thin finger. ¡°New? You¡¯re a transfer student?¡±


    ¡°Yes. I just started.¡± He smiled at her, hoping he looked sad and pitiful, a boy without the most basic of necessities¡ªa library card.


    The librarian gently placed the book on top of a small pile of similar leather-bound books, all the same shade of red, and bent down, disappearing behind the desk. When she reappeared, she had a thick folio of yellow paper in her hands. She leaned across the desk to place them in front of Nic. Her own skin looked like it might have been regularly oiled, too. Perhaps that was why she looked of such indeterminate age.


    ¡°Complete them¡ªall of them¡ªand then bring them back here. Any questions you don¡¯t underst¡ª¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡± Nic picked up the stack and walked to the nearest table. There was no one else there, but he still felt odd sitting out in the open. He began filling out the forms.


    He was familiar with the questions and the correct way to answer them. He¡¯d had to go through a similar process at the Librarium. Most libraries required some kind of registration but none as complex or as in-depth as the Librarium. The Ransom School library came close, though.


    It took Nic less than five minutes to go through the sheaf. Knowing which questions weren¡¯t applicable to him helped cut down on time, although he was careful to put ¡®not applicable¡¯ in the space provided rather than leaving it blank. A lesson learned the hard way. Incorrectly filled out forms required you to redo the process from scratch. He took the papers back to the librarian who had watched the whole process with her mouth slightly open. She snapped it shut.If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    ¡°There was a page missing,¡± said Nic. ¡°21b, I think.¡± He riffled through the sheets. ¡°Yes, see?¡±


    She leaned forward to check. ¡°Ah, yes. Apologies.¡± She bent down again and came back up almost immediately with the missing page.


    It occurred to Nic that she might have deliberately kept that one page back, but why? There seemed no obvious reason for it other than spite, and librarians, in his experience, weren¡¯t the sort to do such things. This was quite an unusual librarian, though. For a start, she seemed to run the entire library by herself. Nic hadn¡¯t seen a single other member of library staff since his first visit, and he¡¯d spent not an inconsiderate amount of time here.


    He quickly filled in the missing page and handed it back to her.


    ¡°I¡¯ll have to check this over.¡±


    Nic nodded. ¡°I¡¯ll take a temporary card while you do that.¡± Having been through this process a good number of times, he knew exactly what he was entitled to.


    The librarian¡¯s mouth scrunched up a little. She bent down once more, this time over to one side. Nic waited quietly. There was a loud clang that reverberated around the empty library. She came back up holding a metal library card. It wasn¡¯t a temporary one.


    ¡°You might as well take this now. I doubt there¡¯ll be an issue. Although, if there is, I¡¯ll be taking that back.¡±


    Nic took the card and looked it over. His name was embossed onto it. She¡¯d done that very quickly. Nic was familiar with the press used to manufacture these cards and it was quite a fiddly process lining up the letters using a pair of tweezers. The librarian had taken less than a minute.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± said Nic, doing his best to not come across as a troublemaker. Librarians didn¡¯t like troublemakers. ¡°I promise to take good care of borrowed books.¡±


    ¡°Oh, you aren¡¯t allowed to take the books out of the library.¡±


    Nic was confused. He had a library card. ¡°Why not?¡± he asked. Did they have some kind of probationary period?


    ¡°All students are required to make use of library books within the library. It¡¯s school policy.¡±


    ¡°Then what¡¯s the card for?¡± He held up the card.


    ¡°It¡¯s symbolic.¡±


    Nic wasn¡¯t a confrontational person. He liked to study in quiet and getting into conflict with others made that difficult. But he also knew his rights and was careful to preserve them.


    ¡°Do you have a copy of the Libraries Charter?¡± he asked the librarian.


    She peered over the tops of her glasses. ¡°Of course. We have several.¡±


    ¡°Section six, paragraph 1a?¡±


    A dark cloud formed above the librarian¡¯s creased brow. Nic knew a little about a lot of things, and more or less everything about Ranvar library system. The country prided itself on its libraries, they were more common than churches and, some would say, more revered. Ever since King Ransom I, it had been written into the constitution that anyone could become a member of any public library, and holding a membership card entitled them to borrow books from that library. Any book marked as only to be used within a library¡¯s walls had to have a second copy available for lending. Even the Librarium followed this rule. Because it was the law.


    This wasn¡¯t a public library, but he was a member. He had a card. He was entitled to borrow books as long as he returned them within the allotted time.


    Of course, late returns were severely frowned on. Fines were stiff. You could lose your membership if you weren¡¯t prompt or didn¡¯t take good care of the books and there was even a special department that repossessed overdue books. No one wanted to get on the wrong side of the Recollection Agency. Their agents had powers of entry even the National Guard envied, and dogs trained to sniff out books. Which some people found amusing, until the huge mastiffs tore through their homes, ripping their upholstery to shreds. Books were a serious business in Ranvar. And rules were enforced rigorously.


    ¡°The school has special dispensation,¡± said the librarian.


    ¡°Oh,¡± said Nic. ¡°Can I see a copy of that?¡±


    It made sense now why the books he had read in this library all had a pristine white sheet inside the front cover. Normally, there would be covered in date stamps to indicate when the book was to be returned each time it was borrowed. He had assumed the librarian was very zealous when it came to replacing them, he had encountered many librarians who were extremely passionate about their job, but now it seemed they had been blank because they had never been used.


    The librarian seemed reluctant to move. She slowly pivoted and moved to the rear where there were a series of small filing cabinets lined up against the wall. She opened one and withdrew a sheet of paper. Even more slowly, she came back to Nic and placed it in front of him.


    He read it over. It did indeed make the Ransom School Library exempt from lending out books. For one month. Twenty seven years ago.


    ¡°This is no longer valid,¡± said Nic. He had the horrible feeling she wasn¡¯t going to take this news very well, even though she no doubt already knew. He winced, waiting for the reaction.


    ¡°No,¡± said the librarian, very calmly. ¡°It was a temporary order due to water damage. A leak in the roof. It just became a lot simpler to manage the books once the students stopped taking them back to their rooms and¡­ defiling them.¡±


    ¡°So you decided to keep it that way?¡±


    ¡°Not I, the previous librarian.¡± She arched a single eyebrow. ¡°How old do you think I am?¡±


    Nic wisely chose not to answer that question. ¡°Isn¡¯t that illegal?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not that students can¡¯t borrow books, it¡¯s just that I prefer they didn¡¯t. You¡¯re the first one to object. I didn¡¯t mean to mislead you, it¡¯s just what¡¯s best for the library.¡±


    Spoken like a true librarian.


    ¡°I understand, but I still need to take out books. What you want to tell the other students is up to you. It would be different if the library was open around the clock, but even today, you¡¯ll be shut after lunch. I need access to these books.¡±


    She said nothing for a long time. Nic waited. Then she said, ¡°It would be awkward if other students became aware that you were taking out books.¡± She raised a hand to stop his assurances that he wouldn¡¯t tell anyone. ¡°Even if you didn¡¯t tell them, someone would notice, and then¡­¡± She pursed her lips. ¡°However¡­ we could come to an arrangement.¡±


    Nic felt an odd tingle down his spine. What did that mean? He didn¡¯t like the gleam in her eye. ¡°What kind of arrangement?¡±


    ¡°As the school librarian, I am allowed to make one of the upperclass students my assistant for the annual audit. It¡¯s a menial appointment¡ªtidying up, checking the stacks, repairing bindings¡ªall things I enjoy doing myself so I¡¯ve never needed any help. You would have a key to the rear office. Which has its own entrance.¡± She gave him a suggestive look over her glasses. ¡°You could use the library when you wished, day or night. It would be better if you were discrete, but even if you were seen, there would be a valid reason for your presence.¡±


    ¡°My own key?¡± asked Nic, hardly able to believe his ears.


    ¡°I would expect you to be very careful within these walls, Mr Tutt.¡±


    The use of his name threw him a little. Of course, she had seen it on the form and had set it in the press when she made his library card. It still sounded odd to hear her say it.


    ¡°I think that would be okay. I mean, I agree.¡±


    ¡°And you won¡¯t mention anything we¡¯ve discussed here?¡±


    ¡°No, no. Not a word. I¡¯m a transfer student, I hardly know anyone.¡±


    She nodded, turned and went back to the filing cabinets and returned with a small, unassuming key on a simple chain. ¡°Don¡¯t lose it.¡±


    Nic took it with trembling hands. ¡°I¡¯ll guard it with my life.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be melodramatic,¡± said the librarian. ¡°This way.¡± She led him to a door behind her and showed him the small office. It was very neat and orderly. There was another door, not very big or heavy. It was painted white and had glass panels you could easily break if you were desperate to gain entry. Or exit.


    The librarian opened the door, which wasn¡¯t even locked. It led to a wooded area at the back of the library. Rising above the trees was the Pagoda where Mr Tenner was alleged to carry out his experiments. Nic hadn¡¯t seen it up close before. It was an odd building, the lack of windows making it seem eerily uninhabited. He listened closely but didn¡¯t hear any demonic screams.


    ¡°As you can see, it¡¯s very quiet and secluded. The students don¡¯t like it here so as long as you aren¡¯t too conspicuous, nobody will notice your comings and goings. But I will. Don¡¯t make me regret this.¡±


    He immediately began assuring her he would never do anything to harm the library but she simply raised her hand to silence him. ¡°I know who you are, Nic Tutt. I am well aware of how you gained entry to this school and of your achievements. Mr Gerry at the Librarium sent me a letter about you.¡±


    Nic was more startled by this than all the other things he had heard today. ¡°He did?¡±


    ¡°Yes. I thought it was an odd thing to do, too. Asking me to be aware of a single student, and an Also-Ran at that. But now I think maybe he was trying to warn me.¡± She cocked an eyebrow.


    ¡°No, I don¡¯t think¡ª¡±


    ¡°Either way, he has expressed faith in you, and I¡¯m willing to take his word on the matter. For now. They aren¡¯t kind to Also-Rans around here, Nic. In fact, they¡¯re quite nasty. But nowhere near as nasty as I, not when it comes to my books.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Nic. ¡°I understand. I won¡¯t let you down. Er¡­ but I was wondering, do you have a special room with the more, ah, delicate books?¡± Every library he had been to had had a special inner sanctum where they kept the really rare, most precious books. Some might even be considered dangerous. He¡¯d never gained access to one of these rooms, but he knew they existed. It wasn¡¯t that you couldn¡¯t borrow the books inside them, it was just that it was hard to ask for books you didn¡¯t know existed.


    The librarian¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°Don¡¯t push your luck, Nic. Let¡¯s see if you can be trusted, first.¡±


    So there was a room. ¡°But perhaps, one day¡­?¡±


    ¡°Perhaps.¡± She smiled and Nic took an involuntary step back, an icy hand running its fingers down his spine.


    Nic spent the next few hours reading but he found it very hard to concentrate. He was too excited. Of all the things he could have hoped to have achieved by attending the Ransom School, his own key to the library was beyond his wildest dreams.


    Not the sort of wild dreams most boys would have, but then Nic wasn¡¯t most boys. He wondered if Dizzy would be impressed by what he had managed in just his first week. Or would she consider it laughably unambitious?


    It didn¡¯t matter, he was too pleased to care about anyone else¡¯s opinion. He left the library more than an hour before it closed, secure in the knowledge he could come back later and have the place to himself. He paused to wave goodbye to the librarian, but felt silly and she wasn¡¯t even paying attention to him, working away on her books.


    When he got back to the cottage, the Conoling wagons were gone. He walked through the door and on a day of surprises, got his biggest one yet. It was like he had stepped inside a palace.


    A very small and cosy palace.


    ¡°What do you think,¡± said Davo. He was dressed in a silk smoking jacket and had an unlit pipe in his hand. The hall was decked out in fine furnishings and expensive furniture. There were hangings on the wall and a plush rug on the floor. Wingback armchairs with tassels were positioned around a roaring fire. ¡°I had them put in a chimney. A real one.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t know you smoked,¡± was all Nic could think to say.


    ¡°I don¡¯t. It¡¯s for the look. Come on, see what I did to your room.¡± He waggled his eyebrows and sucked on the end of his pipe. Bubbles came out the end.


    Nic¡¯s room had been transformed. It wasn¡¯t as busy as the hall, no excessive wall coverings or fancy upholstery. There was a beautiful desk with many drawers and ornate carvings, a leather chair and shelves full of books that didn¡¯t belong to him. He ran his fingers across the spines. They were the texts required for the next year, all the latest editions.


    ¡°Davo, I don¡¯t know what to say.¡±


    ¡°Just temporary, you understand. Everything has to go back once we leave this place. No reason why the stay shouldn¡¯t be a pleasant one, though.¡±


    ¡°Have you seen the monster in his room?¡± asked Fanny from the doorway.


    Nic was intrigued and followed him to Davo¡¯s room. It had been turned into the study of a wealthy industrialist, a giant desk fitting in next to a bed that somehow magically turned into a chaise lounge. And taking up an entire wall, a life-size painting of an old man with a leer that practically attacked you as soon as you entered the room.


    ¡°Yeesh,¡± said Nic, afraid to get too close, ¡°who¡¯s that?¡±


    ¡°That, my dear Nic, is the founder of Conoling Stores, Hulard P. Conoling. The man¡¯s a legend, an absolute legend.¡± Davo fairly beamed with pride.


    He certainly had the bearing and refined look of someone from a legendary tale, but with a face like that his role might well have been as the villain. Nic didn¡¯t say that.


    ¡°Did he do your room, too?¡± Nic asked Fanny.


    ¡°Too right, he did. I¡¯ve got my own pantry.¡±


    ¡°What about Semiole?¡±


    ¡°Ah, no,¡± said Davo. ¡°She wouldn¡¯t let me in. Very secretive that girl. I think she¡¯s up to something in there. I wouldn¡¯t mind getting a good look at whatever it is.¡± More bubbles floated out of the end of his pipe.


    It had been quite a day. With the way things were improving, Nic felt he might be ready to face his biggest challenge, the girl he¡¯d come here to find.


    Soon.


    He walked back out into the hall and sat in one of the wingback chairs. The fire warmed the soles of his feet. The perfect place to sit and read.


    There was a knock on the front door. What now? thought Nic as he got up. Davo and Fanny were still in Davo¡¯s room discussing art. Fanny felt the painting of Davo¡¯s ancestor was following him around the room¡ªnot just with its eyes, but bodily¡ªand would very much like it to stop.


    Nic opened the front door. And stood there, unable to speak, hardly able to breathe.


    ¡°May I have a word?¡± said Dizzy. ¡°In private.¡±

 Chapter Seven

    Dizzy was dressed in a sky blue jacket with a high collar and gold buttons. It was similar to an outfit she had as a child, her favourite that she wore on special occasions like the grand finals of the snail derby (an annual event held behind the stables) or the opening of their secret clubhouse, made of silk bed sheets hanging over an abandoned fox den.


    ¡°We could go in my room,¡± Nic suggested, doing his best to keep his voice level and his heart inside his chest. It was hammering so fast he was in danger of breaking a rib.


    ¡°Private,¡± repeated Dizzy. Her mouth shrank into an impatient bud.


    Nic smiled. He remembered that look only too well. When she was in this kind of mood there was no placating her.


    Her eyes narrowed and he quickly wiped away the smirk in case she thought he was mocking her. She usually followed it up with a full-body tackle and an attempt to make him eat dirt. Often a successful attempt.


    He fought back the grin now trying to force its way onto his face. How he had missed those looks. How his heart soared as he watched them play out in front of him like a medley of her greatest hits.


    ¡°Um, okay. How about outside? There¡¯s a pond over there no one visits.¡± He pointed awkwardly around and over her to a small copse. The trees surrounded a pool covered in lily pads and slicks of algae. Clouds of tiny insects made it less than ideal as a meeting place but also made it less likely that they would be disturbed.


    She nodded, curt and serious, and then turned around and walked away without waiting for him.


    Nic quickly pulled the door closed and followed. He ran to catch up and then felt foolish for scampering like a puppy and slowed to a more casual gait. He felt anything but casual. She disappeared behind the foliage and Nic felt a pang of fear that she wouldn¡¯t be there when he arrived, and sped up so as to not lose her.


    He knew he was being ridiculous, but this was the moment he had worked so hard to reach and it was already nothing like how he had imagined it.


    He brushed aside the fronds of a tall shrub, ignoring the scratches, and found her waiting, staring into the pond, her back to him.


    He stopped and tried to slow his breathing. The insects buzzed loudly, their refrains rising and falling. Amphibious croaks intruded on their concerto. This wasn¡¯t a place of natural beauty left to run wild, it was a nursery for various unfriendly fauna used in zoological classes. Many of the insects possessed nasty stings and some of the frogs were poisonous. It wasn¡¯t something you would want to be too near to, which was why it had been placed apart from the main campus where it would cause the least disturbance and irritation. Just like the Also-Rans.


    ¡°It¡¯s nice to see you again, Dizzy.¡±


    She spun around, her eyes flashing with anger. ¡°Don¡¯t call me that. Who do you think you¡¯re talking to?¡±


    Nic was a little startled and took a step back. ¡°S-sorry. I didn¡¯t mean¡­ what should I call you?¡±


    She came storming towards him, no let up in her enraged expression. Nic stumbled backwards until he was swallowed by a bush. He jumped forward as the thorns bit into him. The flora wasn¡¯t that friendly either.


    Nic suddenly lurching towards her halted Dizzy¡¯s charge and she was the one to retreat now, but Nic was practically falling on top of her. He stuck out his hands and grabbed her shoulders to steady himself.


    ¡°Don¡¯t touch me,¡± she said through clenched teeth.


    ¡°Sorry.¡± He let go and pulled his hands down by his sides. Then behind his back.


    They stood face to face, neither saying anything. Buzzes and chirps and plops in the water filled their silence.


    He was taller than her, he was glad about that. Her hair was long and straight and she had a clip that kept it from her face. Her eyes¡ª


    ¡°Stop staring like that,¡± she said. ¡°It¡¯s disgusting.¡±


    This wasn¡¯t going at all how he had hoped. Defeated before he¡¯d even had a chance. He turned his head away.


    ¡°You¡¯re the one who wanted to talk in private. What did you want to talk about?¡±


    When she didn¡¯t reply, he looked back. Her cheeks were flushed red and her mouth was set in a hard line.


    ¡°Why are you here, Nic?¡±


    He shrugged. ¡°To get an education. I heard good things about this place, they have excellent facil¡ª¡±


    ¡°Stop it! Why are you really here?¡±


    Nic looked at her. Her hands were in tight fists and the expression of anger now seemed more like distress. He didn¡¯t want to spar with her. He didn¡¯t want to make her feel like this.


    ¡°I missed you.¡± She was looking at him like he wasn¡¯t making sense. Maybe he wasn¡¯t. ¡°You meant a lot to me and then you were gone, and I didn¡¯t know what else to do but follow you here. I worked so hard, for so long, some days it didn¡¯t seem worth it, but I couldn¡¯t give up. Not until I saw you again.¡±


    ¡°You were right,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°It wasn¡¯t worth it. You shouldn¡¯t have come. I¡¯m sorry if all your hard work was for nothing, but that isn¡¯t my fault. This place¡­ it isn¡¯t for you. I worked hard, too. I have a life here. Friends. I don¡¯t need you messing things up. We played together as children. You were my maid¡¯s son, that¡¯s all.¡±


    Each word was like a body blow, knocking a little more life out of him. He tried not to show it on his face.


    ¡°I understand. Don¡¯t worry, I won¡¯t embarrass you¡ªI won¡¯t even tell anyone I know you. I just needed to know, and now I do. I won¡¯t be a bother.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡± She let out a breath that sounded to Nic like relief. Had she expected him to try and force her into being his friend? Threaten to reveal her dirty secret, that she¡¯d once played with a boy beneath her station?


    It wasn¡¯t like he hadn¡¯t considered this outcome as a possibility. It was the most likely, you didn¡¯t have to be good at statistics to know that; and Nic was an excellent statistician. But there was solace even in failure. Who wanted their happily ever after to happen at sixteen? What would you do with the rest of your life?


    He looked past her at the pond. The creatures continued with their daily chores, unimpressed by the inconsequential drama playing out beside them.


    ¡°Do you still catch frogs?¡± he said without thinking. ¡°And keep them in your pants?¡± He smiled at the recollection.


    Her face tightened again. ¡°I want you to forget everything about me. Like it never existed.¡±


    One more body blow, right in the gut. ¡°I¡¯ll do what you say, Dizzy, but you can¡¯t have my memories. They belong to me, and her, not you. And you¡¯re wrong. It was worth it. She was worth it.¡±


    ¡°And I told you not to call me Dizzy. Only my family call me that, and you aren¡¯t. If you have to address me, call me Miss Delcroix, the same as your mother.¡±


    The knockout blow. She¡¯d put him in his place, and that place was on the floor. Sometimes it¡¯s better to lie there and let the referee count you out than to struggle back to your feet just to get knocked down again. He lowered his head and let the sadness pass. When he looked up again, she was gone.


    Well, it wasn¡¯t so bad, he told himself. At least he hadn¡¯t burst into tears. And she¡¯d remembered him, that was for sure. He had made an impression on her life, one as about as welcome as an unsightly stain, but now he had his answer. All he had left to do was work out what to do for the next two years stuck in this place. Something bit him and he slapped himself on the cheek. He should have done that five years ago.


    ¡°That was intense.¡±


    Nic spun around to find Simole standing there. She hadn¡¯t made a sound approaching which seemed unfeasible. They were surrounded by plants forming a thick green wall on all sides, but she looked immaculate. Nic looked around and then up. Had she been sitting in the tree?


    ¡°So she¡¯s the reason why you worked so hard to get into this place. You must be kicking yourself for being so stupid. I wouldn¡¯t be able to look myself in the mirror after making that big a fool of myself. I mean, she really wasn¡¯t interested. At all. Not even a little, tiny bit. ¡®Call me Miss Delcroix¡¯. Brutal.¡±


    ¡°She wasn¡¯t always like that,¡± said Nic, suddenly having to defend the girl who had just crushed him under her heel.


    ¡°Sure. Nobody starts off that full of themselves. You need time to grow the right muscles, really develop the ability to look down on people. She must have put in a tonne of effort to get to that level of spite so quickly.¡±


    ¡°You won¡¯t say anything, will you?¡±


    ¡°Me? No. I think there¡¯s still hope.¡±


    Nic was surprised. ¡°Really?¡±


    ¡°Two childhood friends, separated by privilege and money, coming together because the boy just wouldn¡¯t give up on his first love. When you think about it like that, it¡¯s kind of¡­ creepy. Basically, you¡¯re a stalker. No wonder she was so mad.¡± Simole shivered. ¡°I might have been too hasty, she may be the victim here.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not a stalker.¡±


    ¡°Technically, if we go by the dictionary definition, yes, you are.¡±


    Another midge nipped at him and he slapped himself again. ¡°Why are you enjoying this so much? This is the most fun I think I¡¯ve ever seen you have. You like seeing people suffer, do you?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. It is fun, though. Tell me more about her, when you were kids.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d rather not. I¡¯m trying to put it behind me.¡±


    ¡°Oh, maybe I should discuss it with Fanny and Davo.¡±


    ¡°Are you blackmailing me?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said Simole. ¡°Actually, yes.¡± Her smile was wicked but playful.


    Begrudgingly, or maybe not so begrudgingly, Nic relived some of his fondest childhood memories. Rescuing lambs being prepared for slaughter and releasing them into the woods (they all died horribly). Stealing fruit pies with a fishing rod (not one made it out of the kitchen, mostly ending splattered on the tiled floor). Building a large boat out of a bunch of smaller boats tied together and sailing for the open seas (they got as far as the next town before a Royal Navy barge intercepted them).You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    Like reminiscing at a wake, the stories helped ease some of Nic¡¯s grief. It was as though he was letting go of a friend who had passed and he began to feel a little better. He didn¡¯t blame the girl Dizzy had become for his silly infatuation. He would put the past behind him and be grateful for the happiness he had been granted, whatever the cost to him now.


    Simole listened and nodded, laughing occasionally but saying little until he had finished. Then she said, ¡°Strange how worked up she was even before she saw you. Almost like she got mad on purpose because she didn¡¯t trust herself to be around you normally. People who wear anger like a mask are generally hiding their true feeling. I wonder what face she was hiding.¡±


    Just as he¡¯d come to terms with his life¡¯s ambition not working out the way he¡¯d hoped, Simole¡¯s word slingshotted him back into the middle of his turmoil.


    ¡°Wait, what do you mean? Are you saying¡­ What are you saying?¡±


    Simole smiled her wicked smile and then walked back into the house, leaving him with his mouth hanging open and no idea what to think.


    The next few days kept Nic busy enough not to dwell too much on what Simole had said. If Dizzy had put on an act for some reason it didn¡¯t really make a difference¡ªshe still didn¡¯t want anything to do with him. It wasn¡¯t something he needed to sort out immediately. They would be in the same place for the next two years. If there was something more, he had time to let it make itself apparent. But there probably wasn¡¯t, he told himself.


    With lessons before and after school, and then the full day of classes, there was plenty to distract him. He still spent most evenings in the library, but made sure to sit with his back to the central area so he wasn¡¯t even tempted to look over towards the Standard Club. Despite his lifelong obsession with a little girl he once knew, he also had his other obsession to fall back on. The library had books he had never read and he had all the free time he needed. Plus a key to the library¡¯s back door he hadn¡¯t even used yet.


    The extra tuition proved to be very useful. Nic slowly extended his questioning to subjects well beyond what they were learning in class, but he did it in a conversational way that seemed to naturally branch off from what the teacher was trying to explain. Often,their planned topics would be forgotten as the small group entered into a discussion about the broader aspects, leaving Nic plenty of room to ask highly esoteric questions. Nic knew he was on a clock. Eventually, the lessons would be cancelled and he wanted to mine as much information as he could. Some of the teachers may have suspected what he was up to, but they seemed to quite enjoy talking around the topics they themselves were once fascinated by.


    Mrs Finleaves, the Advanced Calculations teacher, was one of those who would gladly be led astray from the core lesson plans she came prepared with, into wildly theoretical concepts well beyond the scope of a normal school lesson. Ad. Calc. involved equations and formulae that underpinned all structural endeavours, from pitching a tent to erecting a wizard¡¯s tower.


    ¡°So something like, I don¡¯t know, the Pagoda on campus would need foundations twice as deep as Dole¡¯s Coefficient states if you wanted to attract dimensional waves?¡±


    ¡°Oh, the Pagoda, such an interesting building, isn¡¯t it? I only wish Mr Tenner would allow me to inspect it from the inside. He¡¯s very secretive about what goes on in there, you know? It¡¯s not only Dole¡¯s Coefficient you¡¯d need to apply, it requires you to take graviton waves into consideration.¡±


    ¡°Because of the stress on the internal matrix?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right! Let me show you the equation. My own thesis was on this subject, coincidentally.¡±


    It was no coincidence. Nic had read her papers and just needed some clarification on the finer points. Mrs Finleaves was only too happy to oblige.


    During regular classes, the Also-Rans kept a low profile, always sitting at the back, never asking questions or drawing undue attention. The other students ignored them and that was fine. The academic side of things were at least proceeding in a fruitful manner, until Nic made the mistake of speaking without thinking.


    It was during a regular Ad. Calc. class with Mrs Finleaves, and she asked a question no one knew the answer to. For some reason, she decided to wait until someone at least made an attempt, but no one seemed willing.


    Nic wasn¡¯t really paying attention, it was all material he had covered already, but when she asked the same question for the third time, he instinctively called out the answer.


    The whole class turned to look at him, and not with admiration. He realised his mistake immediately, but it was too late. He looked down at his book, hoping Mrs Finleaves would carry on with the lesson and his intervention would be quickly forgotten. Unfortunately, the students were not it a forgetful mood.


    It wasn¡¯t until lunchtime that Nic learned this. As he and the others sat in their secluded eating area, a committee of young men appeared at the end of the table. They were all fellow members of Ad. Calc.


    ¡°You,¡± said the leader, a tall, blond boy with slicked back hair in the popular style, but far more glossy and well-maintained than any head of hair Nic had previously observed. Ever.


    ¡°Hm?¡± said Nic through a mouthful of soup.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you think it¡¯s improper for you to receive additional tuition when you¡¯ve already caught up with the rest of us? An unfair advantage, I¡¯d say.¡±


    The half-dozen boys backing him up nodded and grunted their agreement.


    The question that he¡¯d answered in class had been quite basic. It wasn¡¯t something Nic needed extra lessons to know as he¡¯d covered the topic even before he arrived at Ransom. He decided it would probably be indelicate to tell the boy this.


    ¡°We had an extra class with Mrs Finleaves this morning,¡± said Nic, which was true. ¡°She went over that same question then. That¡¯s the only reason I knew the answer.¡± Which was not true, but sounded plausible.


    There was some muttering between the boys. This new information seemed to make a lot of sense to them. Of course he wasn¡¯t smarter, he just got lucky.


    ¡°I see,¡± said the leader. ¡°But I don¡¯t think you¡¯re so far behind that you need to take up the teachers¡¯ time with your special needs.¡±


    Nic nodded. ¡°I think the lessons are coming to an end, anyway.¡±


    It wasn¡¯t a commitment to do anything, but it seemed to mollify the disgruntled boys who moved off, throwing a few suspicious looks his way, but nothing more.


    ¡°Do you know who that was?¡± asked Davo. Nic shook his head. ¡°His Royal Highness Prince Leovek, fifth in line to the throne.¡±


    There were many members of the royal house studying at Ransom, mostly minor royalty. Honorifics weren¡¯t used by the teachers and no special treatment given while in class, although there were special accommodations for the more privileged among them. Prince Leovek was high on that list.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t know,¡± said Nic, not really sure what he would have done differently even if he had.


    ¡°You should be careful,¡± said Davo. ¡°People like him have Secret Service following them around. One false step and you¡¯ll disappear faster than a pregnant chambermaid.¡±


    Nic looked around for signs of the Secret Service. He knew of them, of course¡ªhighly trained men and women charged with the welfare of the most important of important people¡ªbut he had never seen them in the flesh. He didn¡¯t see any now, either.


    Fanny was peering around, too. ¡°Where are they?¡±


    ¡°They don¡¯t stand around in plain sight,¡± said Davo. ¡°I¡¯ve seen them at my father¡¯s store when the top nobs come in. The flagship one in the capital, you know?¡± He shook his head sourly at the blank faces. ¡°You people need to get out more.¡±


    ¡°What did they look like?¡± asked Fanny.


    ¡°Well, I haven¡¯t seen them, just felt them. Like shadows.¡±


    It seemed a fanciful story, but that didn¡¯t mean it was untrue. Secret Service or not, Nic knew he would do well to avoid conflict with someone of such high standing and pledged himself to staying as inconspicuous as possible.


    Unfortunately, Mrs Finleaves had other ideas. In the next Ad. Calc. class she asked another very straightforward question, at least Nic thought so, which was once again met by deafening silence. Nic wasn¡¯t about to make the same mistake twice and kept his mouth shut.


    But Mrs Finleaves was frustrated by her students¡¯ apparent unwillingness to meet her halfway. It didn¡¯t speak well of her teaching methods that the entire class was unaware of rudimentary principles.


    ¡°Mr Tutt, perhaps you can answer this question as you did the last.¡± She was clearly intending to use to Nic to embarrass the class. The shame of being outsmarted by an Also-Ran would drive them to study harder, she no doubt thought. Nic suspected the shame would drive them to an entirely different course of action.


    He, of course, knew the answer. He could have given three different methods with full citations and references. But that wouldn¡¯t have ended well.


    ¡°Ah, I¡¯m not really¡­¡± He looked to the side. Davo was slowly shaking his head at him. He looked across to the other side where Simole was ignoring him altogether. She was busy doodling something in her notebook. It looked like a dragon with smoke coming out of its nostrils.


    ¡°Mr Tutt?¡±


    He should have just said he didn¡¯t know, but it went so against his way of thinking he found it impossible. ¡°Is it Nestor¡¯s third algorithm? X minus the third quadrant?¡± He tried to make it sound as vague and guess-like as possible.


    Davo buried his face in his hand.


    ¡°Exactly. Why is it a new boy can know the answer, while a whole class full of Ransom students can¡¯t?¡±


    Prince Leovek stood up at the front of the class. He looked a bit red around the ears, Nic thought.


    ¡°Perhaps because he has received extra tuition,¡± he said somewhat haughtily.


    ¡°I can assure you I haven¡¯t covered any of these matters in our remedial classes. This is basic material I would expect you all to be familiar with. But apparently not. Now please sit down.¡±


    Her tone was not helping, but Nic couldn¡¯t think of what to say that wouldn¡¯t make matters even worse.


    Prince Leovek did not sit down. He stormed to the back of the room pointed his finger at Nic. ¡°I demand you decline further tutelage outside of school hours.¡±


    It wasn¡¯t like Nic had expected the classes to go on forever. If it was going to prevent any more unpleasantness, Nic would be happy to comply with the cease and desist order. But before he could agree, Simole spoke.


    ¡°The tuition will end when the teachers decide, not you.¡±


    There was a gasp. Prince Leovek¡¯s redness migrated from his ears all the way to the front of his appalled face.


    ¡°Now, that¡¯s enough,¡± said Mrs Finleaves. ¡°Everyone return to your seats.¡±


    The Prince was the only one out of his seat, and he wasn¡¯t ready to return anywhere. ¡°You will do as I command and you can tell your slut¡ª¡±


    His back was to the class, but Nic could see why he suddenly stopped talking. His mouth had closed so tightly it looked like his lips had been sealed together with wax. His eyes bounced around in their sockets, wild with confusion, but the rest of him didn¡¯t move. It was like he was encased in a statue of himself.


    Then he slammed down onto his knees. The crack was loud and sounded painful, but his mouth remained shut, releasing only a slight moan. Then his head pitched forward with his arms pinned to his sides and his forehead hit the floor with a sharp slap.


    Simole continued doodling as the Prince bowed down in front of her. ¡°I accept your apology,¡± she said without looking at him.


    The door to the classroom was thrown open and three men appeared. They didn¡¯t exactly come through the door, at least not in a way that had been visible, they were suddenly just there. They were very tall, dressed in black from the neck down, and wore masks, each a different colour, covering the top half of their faces and most of their hair. They also had swords, two each, strapped to their backs.


    They ran to the back of the class, the red mask ahead of the white and green. He stopped just behind the bent over Prince and looked at Simole.


    ¡°If you would be so kind, my lady.¡± His voice was deep and powerful, but extremely respectful.


    Simole nodded and the Prince¡¯s body visibly slackened. As soon as control of his body was returned to him, he reared up, his forehead even redder than the rest of his face, and began screaming. ¡°Arrest her! I want her thrown in prison. Now!¡±


    His demands got louder and more insistent the more they were ignored. The three men, who looked like they could have killed everyone in the room without breaking a sweat, didn¡¯t make a move to apprehend Simole.


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid that won¡¯t be possible, Your Highness,¡± said Red.


    ¡°What?¡± He was even more incensed with his bodyguard than he had been with Simole. ¡°I¡¯m ordering you. I don¡¯t care what¡ª¡±


    This time the one to cut the Prince off was his own man. He placed a hand on the Prince¡¯s neck and he went limp. Before he could hit the ground, he was lifted up onto a shoulder and carried out, followed by the other two men. Once they¡¯d gone, gently closing the door behind them, the room exploded into chatter.


    ¡°Enough! That¡¯s enough,¡± cried out Mrs Finleaves, trying to restore order and failing. Only the bell sounding the end of class stopped full pandemonium, and only because Simole got up. Silence descended like a wet rag over a pan fire as the entire classroom watched her make her way to the door and leave. And then instant bedlam once more.


    There was one more class that day and word had spread so that there was a constant twitter of conversation. Mr Coolpo was baffled by his students¡¯ lack of focus during his Economic Analysis class, and as a strict disciplinarian was quick to start handing out detentions, which brought some semblance of order. Simole remained oblivious, or at least appeared so, although she must have realised the effect she was having.


    When they returned to the cottage, she simply went to her room without saying anything about the day¡¯s events.


    ¡°That was magic,¡± said Fanny. ¡°I¡¯m sure it was.¡±


    ¡°Of course it was,¡± said Davo. ¡°You don¡¯t need a mage for a father to know that. The question is, how was she able to do it?¡±


    The three of them were in Nic¡¯s room, quietly discussing what they¡¯d witnessed in hushed tones.


    ¡°It¡¯s not unknown,¡± said Fanny. ¡°Sometimes you get a natural, someone born with it.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Davo, ¡°but then why would she only just be starting Ransom now? People like that are fast tracked, aren¡¯t they? They would have jumped her a few years and put her in the Royal College by now. Where has she been all this time?¡±


    Fanny shrugged. ¡°And did you hear how the Secret Service guy spoke to her. Are they that polite to everyone?¡±


    They both looked at Nic, sitting in the leather chair Davo had provided, a book open in his hand.


    ¡°What do you think, Nic?¡± asked Davo.


    Nic sighed. ¡°I think that¡¯s the end of our private tuition. Looks like we¡¯re on our own from here.¡±

 Chapter Eight

    The foreign minister and the ambassador from Gweur, a small country west of Ranvar, had been excitedly agreeing with one another for the last ten minutes. Prince Ranade had lost interest about nine minutes ago.


    He frowned at his plate and pushed up a lettuce leaf with his silver fork, hoping to find something more appetising underneath. He was disappointed. As the Crown Prince of Ranvar, he could order the palace chef to bring him any meal he wished. Unfortunately, he didn¡¯t seem to be able to command his wife to stop intercepting those orders. He had agreed to a more healthy diet, but who ate salad for breakfast?


    He was forty, only slightly overweight, and next in line to be king. He had been next in line his whole life and seemed no nearer to the throne. Which didn¡¯t mean he had no power. Quite the contrary. He practically ran the country. All decisions came through him, all major policies were drawn up under his instructions. But it was still his father¡¯s signature that was required to put them into effect.


    King Ranvar XIV was confined to his bed, as he had been for the last six years. He was weak and near death, but refused to take the final step. Not that the prince wanted to see his father dead. He loved his father and respected him as a king, when he was the king. But he wasn¡¯t any longer, and yet he was.


    The reason the king was bedridden had nothing to do with age. At sixty-six, there was plenty of life left to live and plenty of men who functioned perfectly well. But the king had been a mage; a practising one. And supernatural forces exerted strains on the human body.


    It hadn¡¯t been proved, not scientifically, although tests had been carried out and many papers had been written. The Arcanum community were just as keen to know the truth about side-effects, and why they affected some and not others. But all the tests came back inconclusive.


    Prince Ranade didn¡¯t need evidence. He had seen his father¡¯s deterioration with his own eyes. The tremors came first, then the loss of muscle. And slowly, the dementia. It could have just been nature taking its course. Once you get to a certain age, illness can come in many forms and often for reasons that aren¡¯t understood. But this was not natural. The prince, while not a full mage, had been trained in Arcanum as all the royal family were. He was adept at a few minor skills, one of which was magic sensitivity. He could feel the magic ravaging the insides of his father¡¯s body. And there was nothing he could do about it. There was nothing anyone could do about it.


    He had decided to not use his own gifts unless strictly necessary. Far better to allow others more powerful in that area to operate at his behest. Most mages were only too happy to fling magic about and hang the consequences. The prince was only too happy to let them.


    The lettuce was crisp and fresh. The tomatoes succulent. The entire salad was beautifully put together and covered in a rich dressing. But it was still a salad.


    I will have to have a chat with the Royal chef in private, he thought.


    Some of his ancestors had executed their unreasonable spouses, but there were laws now to prevent that sort of thing. Prince Ranade understood better than anyone why they were necessary.


    Foreign Minister Kuplas sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose. ¡°If you please, Your Majesty, the situation in Gweur is reaching a tipping point.¡±


    ¡°Yes, of course,¡± said Prince Ranade, not really sure what situation the foreign minister was referring to. Generally, things were only brought to his attention once all normal channels had been exhausted. ¡°What exactly is the problem?¡±


    Ambassador Adamal snorted air through his impressive moustache and violently crunched on a muffin. The muffin was oozing with butter, the prince couldn¡¯t help but notice.


    Minister Kuplas¡¯ mouth formed a flat, grim line across his face. ¡°Forces of darkness, Your Majesty.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be so theatrical, Kuplas,¡± said the prince a little testily. His true ire was caused by the radishes, elegantly cut into roses, but his melodramatic foreign minister wasn¡¯t helping. ¡°You mean this cult, do you?¡±


    ¡°My apologies, Your Majesty. Yes, but it is less of a cult and more of a group of agitators. Encouraging people to do as they wish and enjoy themselves before the end of days, or beginning of the new order, or something along those lines. It¡¯s hard to tell with these free-spirited types. They want everything and nothing.¡±


    ¡°There is discontent among our people,¡± said the ambassador through his muffin. ¡°I fear for the future of our beloved nation as a strong independent force for good, and as a loyal friend to the Kingdom of Ranvar.¡± He continued to feed his grief.


    Ranvar and Gweur had a special relationship. One that the Gweur government were very keen to maintain. They knew full well what Ranvar was capable of doing to them if they didn¡¯t.


    ¡°Can¡¯t we send over a few more troops to quell the disturbances?¡± said the prince. It seemed a fairly obvious solution. There were already troops on Gweur soil, by invitation, of course. A few more wouldn¡¯t raise eyebrows.


    The foreign minister shook his head. ¡°There are no disturbances to quell. The people are simply refusing to do their work. Factories are empty, fields are untilled. They believe there is more to life. They believe magic can be made available to all.¡±


    Prince Ranade raised a heavy eyebrow. Like his father, his facial hair was red and wiry, even though the hair on his head was blond to the point of being white. ¡°Well, good luck to them on that score. Took me twelve years just to be able to light a candle.¡±


    ¡°Hah!¡± said Ambassador Adamal. ¡°They not only claim it, they have made demonstrations.¡±


    ¡°Magic outside of Ranvar?¡± said the prince. ¡°Why was I not informed of this?¡±


    ¡°Parlour tricks, Your Majesty,¡± said Minister Kuplas. ¡°Or so we thought, until recently. It seems one among them genuinely has the gift. A young woman who does not appear on any register and who has no birth certificate. We believe she is the leader of the movement. We have also learned of women matching her description going back at least two hundred years, possibly more.¡±


    ¡°The same woman?¡± asked the prince.


    ¡°It appears so,¡± said the foreign minister.


    ¡°And what have you done about her?¡±


    ¡°She is currently residing in a cell under the Ministry of Instruction. We thought it best to extract her from Gweur¡ªwith the permission of the Gweur government, of course.¡±


    ¡°Good riddance to her,¡± said the ambassador as he slapped more butter on another muffin.


    ¡°And what have you gleaned?¡± asked the prince, now quite interested. ¡°Where is she from? What power does she possess?¡±


    The foreign minister sighed heavily. ¡°Unfortunately, she has been impervious to reason, and also to pain. We have learned nothing of her true purpose, or nature.¡±


    ¡°This really won¡¯t do. Delcroix, isn¡¯t this the sort of thing you¡¯re supposed to be good at?¡±


    Minister for Instruction Delcroix sat at the other end of the table in front of a salad identical to the prince¡¯s.


    ¡°Indeed, Your Majesty. Unfortunately, we suspect the woman isn¡¯t entirely human.¡±


    ¡°What is she then?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what we plan to find out. There is an expert arriving today to help us determine exactly what we¡¯re dealing with.¡±


    ¡°An expert? A Ranvarian expert?¡± asked the prince.


    ¡°Yes, Sire. I aim to keep this matter internal.¡±


    ¡°And so you should. Tell me, Delcroix, did my wife force that salad on you?¡±


    Delcroix looked down at the salad. ¡°No, Your Majesty, this was my choice. I haven¡¯t seen the Crown Princess today.¡±


    That hardly makes a difference, thought the prince. I haven¡¯t seen her either, yet here I am, sitting with this leafy monstrosity.


    ¡°Kuplas, have a word with the Ministry of War and see if they can spare a troop from the Dragon Corps. The main forces will be deployed along the eastern frontier, but the striplings in training should be available. Have them run some exercises around the Gweur border, maybe even into Gweur airspace, with your permission, of course.¡± He nodded at the ambassador.


    ¡°Of course, of course,¡± said the ambassador. ¡°That would be very helpful. I will arrange it immediately.¡± He stood up, bowed, and hastily exited, leaving a half-eaten muffin behind. It would have been unseemly to grab it, the prince decided.


    The sight of a dozen dragons running formations in their skies should remind the Gweur population the price of freedom.


    ¡°Delcroix, impress on your expert the urgency of this matter. We need to know if there truly is a threat, and from where.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Your Majesty,¡± said Minister Delcroix. He rose to leave.


    ¡°And with regard to your other responsibilities, he is still safely locked away, isn¡¯t he?¡±


    ¡°Yes, Your Majesty.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re sure? You¡¯ve checked?¡±


    ¡°Every hour, Your Majesty.¡±


    ¡°I suppose that¡¯s adequate. Just be careful. I know that¡¯s your stock in trade but he was not easily subdued.¡±


    ¡°I will be extra vigilant, Your Majesty. He will not escape from me again.¡±


    ¡°Yes. It¡¯s the again part that worries me. He is your highest priority. Don¡¯t let little witches be a distraction.¡±


    ***


    Lamworth Tenner stood in the hallway of the Ministry of Instruction admiring the painting on the wall. It was of King Ranvar VI who had been responsible for the ministry¡¯s inception. It was also the only painting he had seen where the frame was part of the painting. It looked very much like a real frame, carved with ornate designs, but in fact it was clever use of paint and light. A testament to the ministry¡¯s dedication to convincing people of truths that did not exist.


    ¡°Ah, Lamworth, you¡¯re here,¡± said Delcroix walking towards him down the hall. ¡°I take it my people have briefed you on the sensitive nature of this business.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Tenner. ¡°I have to say, Minister, I¡¯m not altogether sure I believe it.¡±


    ¡°Good, that makes two of us. This way.¡± He led Tenner to a door that looked like it would open into a large office but in fact behind it there was a staircase. ¡°I won¡¯t give you any details, I¡¯d rather you make up your own mind without any influence from me, or anyone else. Just get as much information of any kind out of her.¡±


    ¡°I will do my best,¡± said Tenner as he followed him down the winding stairs. ¡°If she does turn out to be a demon, I¡¯d be very interested to know how she got here. There hasn¡¯t been a sighting for over a thousand years.¡±


    ¡°Yes, well, judging by the way she keeps popping up in the record, she may very well have been that last sighting.¡±


    After a surprisingly long jaunt down several levels, they came to the bottom and a very well guarded room. Tenner counted ten nervous-looking soldiers in the immediate area, and the sound of more nearby. There were a series of heavy doors with back iron reinforcements along one wall. It would take a great deal of effort to break through them.


    Minister Delcroix produced a key. ¡°I won¡¯t accompany you in, I find her rather irritating. I¡¯ll send in a couple of guards with you, but my advice would be to keep your distance.¡±


    ¡°Understood,¡± said Tenner, already feeling quite excited. He tried his best to keep himself calm. It was very unlikely she was a genuine demon, but even a tangential connection would be worth the trip.


    ¡°And try not to think of this as one of your experiments. Think of it more as a matter of national security.¡± Delcroix opened the door.


    ¡°Yes. Will do.¡± Tenner entered the dark room. Two soldiers followed him in, both carrying lanterns. They immediately went to the two corners either side of the door and stood there like statues, lights held aloft.Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    The door closed behind them. The key turned in the lock with a thunk.


    On the far wall, hands chained up high, wide apart, feet chained low, also wide apart, stood a young woman. She looked like she might be twenty-five. Certainly no more than thirty. She wore a simple smock, white and fairly new. It hung off her like she had been hurriedly dressed and without her participation. The back was untied and the fit was loose.


    Her skin was pale but smooth and youthful, covered in dark smudges around her neck and her wrists. It may have been dirt, it may have been the remnants of bruising fast-healed with potent salves. Her lips look dried and cracked and her yellow hair hung lank, hiding most of her face. She seemed to be muttering to herself.


    Tenner approached cautiously, his head tilted to try and get a better look under the curtain of greasy hair.


    ¡°Ah, hello. It¡¯s Junia, isn¡¯t it? I was told that was your name.¡± There was no reaction. ¡°My name¡¯s Lamworth. That isn¡¯t my true name, though. My mage name is Dariah.¡±


    She looked up, then. Her eyes were bright and clear and he could see every line, every curve of her face despite the shadows obscuring everything else in the room.


    ¡°You give me your name, child?¡± she asked in a small, feminine voice that matched her face, but her condescending words were incongruous. A mocking smile lifted the corners of her lips. ¡°Are you a fool, or just as tired of life as I?¡±


    Tenner¡¯s heart leapt in his chest. There was something here, something he had been looking for and failed to find. She was far younger than him, or at least it appeared so, but when she spoke, he felt the weight of centuries. His search had been so very long and so very fruitless, could it be his relentless pursuit had finally paid off?


    ¡°I give it to you gladly. Perhaps I could have yours in return?¡± He spoke quietly, with deference, as though speaking to a grandmother from a great family. ¡°If you don¡¯t mind.¡±


    ¡°My name, my name...¡± Her head fell forward again so she spoke to the floor. ¡°It has been so long, so many years playing at life, waking each morning and putting on sweet little Junia like putting on this shapeless smock, both equally as unfitting. And then walking and talking and eating and shitting. And then sleeping and rising and repeating it all. My name? You desire to know my name? It will do you no good, little wizard. What use is a name when the thing it names is no more potent than dust?¡±


    ¡°I do not wish to use it against you, only to address you correctly. It is a joy and a pleasure to meet you, Old Mother.¡±


    Her head snapped up and one eye rose at a slant. ¡°Joy? What do you people know of joy? I have travelled all over this rock of yours and I have seen the great cities and the wild places. The dark men who fight naked in the far deserts until they fall weeping to the ground, bloodied and broken. The genteel ladies who dress like colourful birds and peck at each other like dull, grey pigeons. Your world is full of beauty none of you has seen, and enormous ugliness you place on pedestals and worship like gods. You are worms still wriggling in the earth. You have yet to experience joy.¡±


    ¡°I wish I could see through your eyes,¡± said Tenner sincerely. ¡°Long have I wished to see the truth of this world.¡±


    ¡°Is that what you wish, child? I don¡¯t believe you would like what you see. The truth of the world is that it is a giant nursery where babes squabble over toys. There is little worth seeing, and nothing more than once. I closed that door a long time ago, when I realised the view through it was no more substantial than a picture in a book; and with the same purpose. To be looked at and then forgotten, shadows to remind you of something no longer within reach.


    ¡°It is another door I wish to open, one that refuses to open even a crack. That door is far more appealing, but heavy and firmly shut. Why won¡¯t it open? Why have I been barred entrance? Why?¡±


    Her head lolled from side to side in despair.


    Tenner leaned forward, his cheek almost touching hers. ¡°Tell me about this door,¡± he said with great passion. ¡°If I can help you open it, I will. Perhaps together we can find the key.¡±


    ¡°Hah!¡± cried out the girl. ¡°There is no key. There is no need for one. The door swings open with the slightest push, or so it should. Junia is on the other side. Junia is holding the door in place against me. Too long have I worn her like a skein wrapped around me and forgotten what it is to be free. I shall lie down like a sick dog and never get up. I accept my fate.¡±


    ¡°No!¡± cried out Tenner, startling the guards and making them shift about uncomfortably. He lowered his voice again. ¡°Old Mother, do not give up, yet. I can help you.¡±


    ¡°Help me?¡± She laughed, but her throat was dry and the sounds that emerged were broken and half formed. ¡°What can the wizardling do that I cannot? What power do you possess when up is down and down is up?¡±


    He felt the shift in the world, the power in her words rearranging existence. The guards behind him exclaimed in surprise as they fell upwards towards the ceiling, crashing loudly as though having dropped from a great height.


    Tenner willed himself to refuse the call. He denied what seemed so obviously true. Down was not up, no matter how incontrovertible it seemed. He broke out into a sweat, his entire body aflame under the skin as if from a fever.


    ¡°You fight the truth, child,¡± she said, perhaps a little impressed. ¡°You struggle well, for a human. But you struggle for nought.¡±


    ¡°Do not lose faith, Old Mother,¡± said Tenner through shaking lips. His body rattled like it was being broken from within, but still he refused to believe. His own faith was being tested to its limits, the effort soaking him in sweat, the strain spreading through him until every muscle stood out. There was thunder in his ears and it sounded like Death¡¯s footsteps running towards him. ¡°As long the door exists, it can be opened.¡±


    The world stilled, or at least it felt so to Tenner. There were two loud thumps as the guards landed on the ground, still and lifeless. Their bodies were unmarked and their faces held expressions of great confusion. Tenner breathed easily again, his chest rising and falling to quickly regain the air it had lost. He took out a handkerchief and wiped the sheen off his forehead.


    ¡°Perhaps you can help this old woman, Lamworth.¡±


    Tenner looked up, dabbing his face with the handkerchief. Her appearance had become even more youthful, even more beautiful. She did not seem to be hanging from the wall, it was more like the wall was an ornament she wore.


    ¡°I think I can,¡± he said, ¡° but I will need you to do something for me first.¡±


    She smiled mockingly again. ¡°And what favour do you wish me to grant?¡±


    Tenner folded up the handkerchief and put it away. ¡°I need you to die.¡±


    ***


    Prince Ranade was very angry. He was sitting at the dinner table facing yet another salad. He had spoken to the chef, privately, and made it very clear how he expected the evening meal to proceed. He had taken into account his wife¡¯s interference, and arranged for a decoy salad to be prepared. The genuine repast would be delivered by means of stealth and subterfuge. The finest agents of the Secret Service were placed at the chef¡¯s disposal to ensure the prompt and successful delivery of the real meal, codename Silver Spoon. And yet, the only thing to arrive was the salad. Had his wife infiltrated the Secret Service? It had never been achieved before, but he wouldn¡¯t put it past her.


    What was the point of being the most powerful man in Ranvar if he couldn¡¯t even order himself a steak when he wanted? Were the rest of his edicts followed with equal incompetence?


    ¡°In the afternoon, Your Majesty will be hosting a garden party for¡ª¡±


    ¡°Will there be a buffet, Monfoth?¡± he asked his aide.


    Monfoth was technically aide to the king, but since the king was incapacitated, he provided the same service¡ªa tight schedule planned well in advance¡ªto the Prince Regent. He was nearly eighty and wished dearly to retire to his cottage in the country. It had been awarded to him on his sixtieth birthday and he had visited it only twice since then.


    ¡°I believe so, my liege. The Princess has taken care of arrangements.¡±


    Ranade¡¯s heart sank. ¡°Carry on, what else?¡±


    Monfoth went over his notes, trying to find his place. ¡°Oh, there is one other thing. Your brother asked for an audience.¡±


    ¡°My brother? Which one?¡±


    ¡°Leovek, my liege.¡±


    ¡°Leovek? What does that runt want? Shouldn¡¯t he be at school?¡±


    ¡°Yes, my liege. He is in the upperclass at Ransom. It seems he got himself into an¡­ awkward situation. The Ranvar protocol was enacted.¡±


    Prince Ranade nearly choked on a slice of beetroot. ¡°What?¡± he roared, once he¡¯d cleared his throat. ¡°How did the little twerp do that? When was the last time it was even used?¡±


    ¡°A hundred and forty seven years ago, my liege.¡±


    The Ranvar protocol gave the Secret Service the right to incapacitate a member of the Royal household, but only when it pertained to their safety in the face of a sudden and immediate danger. Too often, a prince or princess would panic or refuse to do as they were told, believing their position too lofty to be truly under threat. They were considered a danger to themselves and subdued in a swift and painless manner, to be revived once they had been carried clear.


    ¡°And it was a justified use of the protocol, was it?¡± he asked the aide.


    ¡°An investigation is underway, but yes, I believe it was justified. It involved the girl.¡±


    ¡°The girl? What girl?¡±


    ¡°The Van Dastan girl,¡± said Monfoth. ¡°Apparently he insulted her and she didn¡¯t take kindly to it.¡±


    Ranade rolled his eyes. ¡°I¡¯m surprised she didn¡¯t kill him on the spot. Is she¡­ upset?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t believe so. Reports suggest her reaction was quite measured. She treated it as a minor nuisance.¡±


    ¡°Ha! That about sums up the little twerp. Send him a letter telling him to stop acting like a whiney runt or I¡¯ll send a group of Instructors down to that school and have him publicly flogged.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid you can¡¯t do that. Not since the Agvarian Act of¡ª¡±


    ¡°Yes, yes, I am fully aware of the limitations placed on me by that infernal act, but he isn¡¯t. That girl has done more for the kingdom than he ever will. Make sure he understands she is to be left alone. And make sure the Secret Service understand it, too. If she wants a normal school life, she¡¯s going to get it, fifth prince be damned. That¡¯s all for now.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll see to it at once, my liege.¡± Monfoth bowed and backed out of the room.


    ¡°Now, Delcroix, what have you got for me.¡±


    Minister Delcroix, who had been waiting patiently by the door, stepped forward.


    ¡°If I may, Your Majesty, I¡¯d liked to introduce Lamworth Tenner.¡±


    Tenner also stepped forward and bowed. ¡°It is an honour, Your Majesty.¡±


    ¡°Yes, I¡¯m sure it is. You can dispense with the formalities. Is this the expert you spoke of?¡±


    ¡°It is, Your Majesty,¡± said Delcroix. ¡°Our foremost expert in the field of demonology.¡±


    ¡°And what of the woman you apprehended? Did she reveal herself to you, Tenner?¡±


    ¡°Ah, yes, in a manner of speaking. I believe she was a demon.¡±


    ¡°Was? What do you mean was?¡±


    ¡°The subject died a few hours ago,¡± said Delcroix. ¡°Took her own life.¡±


    ¡°Why the hell would she do that?¡± said the prince.


    Delcroix looked at Tenner who cleared his throat.


    ¡°From what I could piece together, her actions in Gweur were designed to attract our attention. She wanted to be caught. I believe she had been left behind when the gate to the Other Place closed¡ªI¡¯m not sure why, an oversight perhaps¡ªand living disguised as a human for hundreds of years had left her sapped of her strength. Her mind, too, had become unstable. She wished to end her suffering, and needed a strong source of magic to do it. The Ministry of Instruction houses most of the relics from the dark times, I believe the arcanum field they produce was enough to allow her a way out.¡±


    ¡°Hmph,¡± said the prince. ¡°So there¡¯s no imminent invasion from the Other Place?¡±


    ¡°No, Your Majesty. Not to my knowledge.¡±


    ¡°It would be very inconvenient to have to fight a demonic war right now.¡±


    ¡°She gave no indication that was going to happen. She was rather a sad figure, I found. Terribly lonely.¡±


    ¡°And you¡¯re sure she¡¯s dead. Actually dead, dead.¡±


    ¡°Oh yes, although¡­ with your indulgence, I would very much like to take the body back to my research facility. I think there is much we can learn from even an empty vessel.¡±


    ¡°And where is this research facility?¡±


    ¡°Mr Tenner is a teacher at the Ransom School,¡± said Delcroix.


    Prince Ranade looked at Tenner with renewed interest. ¡°I see. So you¡¯ll know my younger brother.¡±


    ¡°Prince Leovek? Certainly. I teach him first year Arcanum.¡±


    ¡°And how would you rate him, as a student?¡±


    Tenner took a moment to consider. ¡°Unremarkable, Your Majesty.¡±


    ¡°Ha! Seems you have a good eye. Take the corpse, but I want a full report on what you find. Delcroix, I expect you to keep abreast of this and any other developments. If there is something more here than meets the eye, I don¡¯t want to be taken unawares.¡±


    ¡°You can count on me, Your Majesty.¡±


    Both men bowed and left. Prince Ranade sat alone with his salad, formulating a new plan. Operation Cheese Sandwich.


    ***


    It was already dark by the time Tenner¡¯s carriage was ready.


    ¡°You¡¯ll find your package inside,¡± said Delcroix. ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you¡¯ll mind sharing the journey with it sat opposite you.¡±


    ¡°Certainly not,¡± said Tenner. ¡°I can¡¯t thank you enough, Minister. This has been the most rewarding experience of my career as a demonologist to date. Many of my colleagues believe me to be a crackpot.¡±


    ¡°Really? I can¡¯t imagine why.¡± Delcroix smiled, grimly. ¡°Don¡¯t get too carried away. This may just be a random encounter with an entity out of time, but there could be more to it. I expect you to contact me the moment you discover something, no matter how trivial.¡±


    ¡°You will be the first to know, I guarantee it.¡±


    The men shook hands and nodded stiffly at one another, and then Tenner climbed into the carriage. The other occupant was dressed like a lady of means, a black lace dress and a large hat hiding her face behind a veil. Closer inspection revealed black bandages wrapped around her torso to keep everything together for ease of transport. Arms and legs wrapped up made her much more convenient to carry.


    Tenner knocked on the carriage roof with his cane and the driver snapped the reins. The carriage and rider both belonged to the Ministry of Instruction, which meant a smooth, uninterrupted journey back to Ransom. Once the city lights faded away, Tenner watched the darkness outside the window, a smile on his lips as he looked forward to taking his prize home and unwrapping it.


    There was a sudden, terrible gasp and his companion¡¯s eyes flew open. ¡°What is this?¡± she hissed. ¡°Why am I bound?¡±


    ¡°For your own protection, Old Mother. You need only bear it a little longer. Once we reach our destination, you will be freer than you have been in a long time, I promise you.¡±


    This seemed to mollify her, leaving her content to breathe deeply, filling her emptied lungs. Eventually, her breathing calmed.


    ¡°So, we begin our journey,¡± she said. ¡°The four of us.¡±


    ¡°Four?¡± said Tenner. ¡°But we are only two.¡±


    ¡°And the man above.¡±


    ¡°The driver? He makes three.¡±


    ¡°And the one below.¡±


    Tenner felt a chill go through him. He raised his cane and knocked on the roof. The carriage slowed, and then stopped. He opened the door and jumped out, ignoring the driver¡¯s questioning look. They were in the middle of the highway with only trees on either side.


    Tenner bent down and looked under the carriage. It was too dark to see clearly. He stuck out his cane, said a few ancient words under his breath, and the tip of the cane glowed a brilliant white. He jabbed it under the carriage.


    There was a grating squeal, like a piston in dire need of oiling, and a dark shape shot out. Its form was hard to make out but it was as large as a man. It flew past him and the rush of air pushed Tenner back, but he managed to reach out and grab part of it.


    There was a tearing sound and another squeal, but the apparition escaped into the night sky. Tenner looked at the torn fragment in his fist. It looked like black material from an ordinary cape. He took out his handkerchief, opened it up and placed the torn cloth inside. Then he wrapped it up and put it back in his pocket. He had ways to determine exactly what he had encountered.


    He looked up at the driver who was resolutely staring ahead. Tenner climbed back in and gave the signal to keep going. The rest of the journey proved uneventful, his fellow passenger remaining silent. When they reached the school, the gates opened without questions, as all gates did for vehicles bearing the Ministry¡¯s emblem.


    The driver had been told where to go and took the carriage around the library to the Pagoda. It stood dark and foreboding, a silhouette against the night sky. Tenner disembarked and unlocked the large door while the driver lifted the motionless corpse out of the carriage. He held the door while the large man carried the small woman like she was nothing. But she was far from nothing. Tenner felt a rush of excitement run through him. He looked around and saw a dim glow in one of the library windows.


    It was far too late for the librarian to still be at work, and unlike her to leave a lantern unattended, but these were matters that didn¡¯t concern him. There was still plenty of time before dawn, and much work to be done. He entered the Pagoda and closed the door behind him.

 Chapter Nine

    ¡°We could just ask her,¡± said Davo.


    Fanny nodded. ¡°Go on, then.¡±


    ¡°Why does it have to be me?¡± said Davo. He adjusted his scarf and flattened the front of his jacket. ¡°She¡¯d be more receptive to someone like you. Someone she doesn¡¯t find threatening.¡±


    They were standing in the hall, Davo, Fanny and Nic. There had been no notification that their extra lessons had been cancelled, so they decided they would go along to the designated classroom at the designated time, and if Mr Varity turned up, they would carry on as normal. Like nothing strange or absurd had happened.


    ¡°Are you saying she finds you threatening?¡± said Fanny, his lips pursed with scepticism.


    ¡°Or maybe Nic. Why don¡¯t you ask her?¡±


    Nic slowly realised he was being addressed. ¡°Ask who, what?¡±


    Davo shook his head and waved a dismissive hand at Nic. ¡°It¡¯s nothing. No need for you to concern yourself with our petty problems. Go back to daydreaming about Hostern¡¯s Equation of Dynamic whatever.¡±


    ¡°Equivalence,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°Nobody likes a pedant, Nic,¡± said Davo.


    ¡°Examiners do,¡± said Nic, pedantically.


    There was the sound of a door opening in the kitchen and Simole emerged in a towel wrapped around her body like a dress. She stepped out into the hall, steam rolling around on the floor behind her. The bathroom had been no more than a sink and minuscule tub when they first arrived. After Davo¡¯s renovations, it was a wet room with shower heads and nozzles pointing in all directions. The water pressure was now many times greater than it had been and hot water was available around the clock, which meant they had somehow become connected to the school¡¯s plumbing system. They certainly hadn¡¯t been before. Freezing cold water dripping from the taps was the best they could get before the renovations. But as Davo informed them, they had as much right as the other students to the school¡¯s resources; it said so in the rule book he now carried in his breast pocket.


    Simole looked at the boys, dressed and ready to depart. ¡°You can go without me, if you want,¡± she said. ¡°I can catch up.¡±


    All three boys shook their heads and made reassuring noises.


    ¡°No, no,¡± said Davo. ¡°We¡¯d only be early. Take your time.¡±


    She turned, her long hair at the back swishing like a tail, and went into her room.


    ¡°You could have asked her then,¡± said Fanny.


    ¡°You know nothing about how to talk to women, you savage,¡± said Davo. ¡°You don¡¯t harass a woman when she¡¯s wet and naked.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± said Fanny, ¡°when do you harass her?¡±


    Davo sent him a withering look. ¡°Save your smartness for the end of term mocks. Academic excellence is the only way to avoid being expelled at this rate.¡±


    Fanny frowned. ¡°Why would they expel us? We haven¡¯t done anything wrong.¡±


    ¡°Really? You don¡¯t think embarrassing an heir to the throne will have repercussions? They used to execute people for that sort of thing, you know? We¡¯re going to have to be extra vigilant from here on out.¡±


    ¡°But we didn¡¯t do anything,¡± repeated Fanny, anxiously. ¡°They¡¯d only expel her, wouldn¡¯t they?¡±


    ¡°So gallant,¡± said Davo. ¡°Such chivalry. If you don¡¯t make it into the Royal College, I see a future for you in the Knight¡¯s Guard.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t see what chivalry has to do with it, she has the same obligation to be chivalrous towards us. Being a girl doesn¡¯t change anything.¡±


    Davo pulled his chin into his neck and an uneven smile formed on his lips. ¡°Are you in love with Simole?¡±


    Fanny flinched. ¡°What? No, of course not.¡± He was flustered and a red bloom rose from his neck. ¡°You just have an old-fashioned idea of what chivalry is. They have female knights, you know?¡±


    Davo tilted his head forward and lowered his voice conspiratorially. ¡°So there¡¯s nothing about her you find attractive?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t say that. She has nice arms.¡±


    ¡°Nice arms?¡± Davo burst out. ¡°What kind of fixation is that?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not a fixation, it¡¯s an aesthetic appreciation. You saw her arms just now. They had a nice shape to them. Soft skin, good colouring.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re just hungry, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    Simole opened her door and exited her room dressed in the same uniform as them, and was met with complete silence.


    ¡°What?¡±


    They walked across the quiet, early morning campus and arrived in the empty classroom five minutes before their lesson was due to start. They waited for half an hour before concluding their private tuition had indeed been cancelled.


    Nic sighed. He has suspected this would be the case, but coming to class had been the only way to be sure. ¡°They could have at least informed us.¡± Nothing felt like a greater waste than an inefficient use of time.


    ¡°Why would they?¡± said Davo. ¡°You don¡¯t show consideration to those you barely tolerate.¡±


    ¡°At least we won¡¯t miss breakfast anymore,¡± said Fanny, a bar of half-eaten chocolate rising towards his mouth.


    Davo snatched it out of his hand. ¡°Yes, so no need to continue grazing like a farm animal. You don¡¯t want to become the school fatboy, do you?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not fat,¡± said Fanny, snatching the bar back.


    ¡°No, but you will be if you keep eating twelve times a day. They¡¯ll roll you out before sports events and the team will rub your stomach for luck. Is that what you want?¡±


    ¡°Some people overeat to comfort themselves,¡± said Nic. ¡°Reduces anxiety. Like depressed housewives.¡±


    ¡°You see?¡± said Davo, snatching at the bar again.


    Fanny raised it over his head, leaning back in his seat to keep it out of reach. ¡°Hostern¡¯s Equation of Dynamic Equivalence. You only put on weight if you don¡¯t do any exercise. And I do.¡±


    Davo stopped trying to reach the chocolate. ¡°I¡¯ve never seen you do any exercise.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s because I do it in my room, in private.¡±


    Simole stood up. ¡°I don¡¯t think I want to hear about what kind of exercising you do in your room, in private.¡± She walked towards the door.


    ¡°I mean push-ups and sit-ups. No, really, I can do a hundred push-ups in one go.¡±


    Nic and Davo both gave Fanny disbelieving looks.


    ¡°Mages need a strong constitution and good upper body strength. Simole, tell them.¡±


    Simole paused by the door. ¡°How would I know?¡± She left.


    ¡°You can look at my arms, if you want,¡± offered Fanny.


    Davo rose. ¡°We don¡¯t all have an arm fetish, like you.¡± He followed Simole out.


    ¡°Can I have a piece of chocolate?¡± Nic asked as he got out of his seat.


    ¡°No,¡± said Fanny, stuffing the rest of the bar into his mouth.


    They reached the cafeteria halfway through the breakfast service. The moment they entered, Simole leading, the busy tables filled with exuberant students fell silent. All eyes were on them, or to be more accurate, on Simole.


    ¡°I was worried this would be awkward,¡± Davo muttered under his breath, ¡°but this isn¡¯t awkward at all.¡±


    Simole showed no reaction to the gawping. She strolled over to the serving area and picked up a tray. The students ahead of her all vacated the queue, allowing her to go straight to the front.


    Fanny quickly picked up a tray and fell in behind her. ¡°We¡¯re with her,¡± he said to the students who had stood aside. ¡°Ooh, still some poached eggs left.¡±


    If they were going to be treated as guilty by association, they might aswell reap the benefits. They filled up their trays and made their way to their seats, the atmosphere around them slowly returning to normal, or something close to it.


    Despite the crowded tables, theirs was waiting, unoccupied. They ate and tried their best to ignore the eyes still looking in their direction. Simole was easily the least affected. Her indifference didn¡¯t seem to be an act, she truly didn¡¯t care, and it was hard for the boys to remain unsettled when the cause of the disturbance was so very unconcerned.


    Now that they didn¡¯t have the special classes to help, Nic knew he would need to spend more time in the library figuring things out for himself. He was even happier he had been able to come to an arrangement with the librarian. And there were some teachers who might not mind answering some of his more obscure questions, so there were still avenues open to him.


    A crowd formed at the end of the table.


    ¡°Not this again,¡± muttered Davo. But he was surprised to find that on this occasion, the representatives of the student body¡¯s unrest were all female. ¡°Oh, hello. Can I be of service?¡±


    They ignored him. All eyes were on Simole at the far end of the table. The lead girl was blonde with a pointy nose. Nic did his best not to stare, but it was very sharp at the tip. He didn¡¯t think she was in any of his classes, though. He would remember a nose that pointy, he felt.


    ¡°Explain yourself,¡± the girl said. She folded her arms and the six girls behind her did the same, which made it look like some kind of dance move.


    ¡°No,¡± said Simole. She continued eating.


    The girl unfolded her arms and her friends followed. ¡°Can¡¯t you see what a disruption you¡¯re being? You¡¯re ruining the Ransom experience for everyone.¡±


    Nic had fully expected the students to be hostile towards them, and towards Simole in particular, but he hadn¡¯t expected this line of attack. Guilt tripping.


    ¡°The least you can do is explain who you are and what you are. No one should be able to do what you did. Not at our age. You owe us an explanation.¡± She was very insistent.


    Simole continued to eat, giving no indication she intended to comply, or even that she had heard the demand. The noise around them dwindled again as the rest of the room focused on the table in the corner.


    ¡°There¡¯s a disease called Precocious Arcanum Syndrome,¡± said Nic. ¡°It over-produces some hormone in the brain, I forget what it¡¯s called, makes you very sensitive to Arcanum. It¡¯s extremely rare.¡±


    The girl looked at Nic. ¡°I¡¯ve never heard of it.¡± She said it in a manner that suggested if she hadn¡¯t heard of it, it couldn¡¯t possibly exist.Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    ¡°The sufferers die young. Usually in their teens. If you want to know more, you should ask the librarian for a book on the subject. Be careful, though. It¡¯s quite a gruesome illness. Brain fries from the inside. Painful.¡±


    Simole stood up and the girls immediately took several steps back. Simole picked up her tray and walked away.


    Once she¡¯d gone, the girls let out a breath in unison. ¡°What did you say it was called?¡±


    ¡°Precocious Arcanum Syndrome,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°I see. I suppose if it¡¯s terminal, she should be pitied.¡± She turned around and walked through a crowd of twirling girls who hurried after her.


    ¡°Is that true?¡± said Davo.


    ¡°Yes, it¡¯s a real disease,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°And you think that¡¯s what Simole has?¡± said Fanny.


    ¡°I doubt it,¡± said Nic. ¡°P.A.S. sufferers have distinctive lily-shaped lesions all over their face and body.¡±


    ¡°Then why did you tell them she has it?¡± asked Davo, perplexed.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t. She had questions, I gave her an answer I thought she would find interesting.¡±


    ¡°But when she reads up on it, she¡¯s going to know it isn¡¯t true,¡± said Fanny.


    ¡°If she asks for a book on the subject, the librarian will probably report her to the authorities. It¡¯s a prohibited subject on the medical watchlist. You can get put on a register for asking about it because of the possibility of creating anti-Arcanum biological weapons. Books can be very dangerous.¡±


    The two boys stared at Nic for a long moment as he finished his porridge.


    ¡°If it¡¯s such a sensitive subject,¡± said Davo, ¡°how is it you know so much about it?¡±


    ¡°You only get reported if you ask for information, not if you happen to find the book on a shelf by yourself. Even the biggest secrets are openly available if you know where to look.¡±


    ¡°But if it isn¡¯t that,¡± said Fanny, ¡°what is it?¡±


    Nic shrugged. ¡°Unless they intend setting a question on Simole for the mocks, I don¡¯t really care.¡±


    The day¡¯s lessons continues as normal. There were still curious glances directed towards Simole, and whispered conversations the teachers found it necessary to quash, but no direct confrontations. Prince Leovek, who had started it all, did not attend any of their classes. Whether that meant he had been moved to a different set of classes or he had left the school, wasn¡¯t clear, but probably the former, Nic guessed. It would be enough if they just kept him away from Simole. The gossip would die down eventually, assuming she didn¡¯t do anything else to reignite the flames.


    The following couple of days bore this out as studies took precedence over scandal. There were mock exams at the end of the term, only a few weeks away, and there was little time for wild speculation about things that weren¡¯t on the curriculum. Without the extra lessons, Nic found himself with more time and he spent most of it in the library, often after hours. Alone with all the books he could hope for, he would study late into the night and then walk back to his room through the dark and silent campus, content with the path he was on, even though he wasn¡¯t really sure where it was taking him.


    Since he found most of his regular classes covered material he was already familiar with, his reading centred around how to go beyond what he would be tested on. He wanted to provide answers that would impress the examiners to such an extent, they would have no option but to give him the maximum number of point available through their discretion.


    He was only the second highest rated student in Ransom. Dizzy may not have appreciated his presence, as was her prerogative, but he still wanted to make his presence felt. Not to try and win her over, at least not consciously. He just wanted to catch up with her, because that was what she had instilled in him.


    One of the subjects not taught in class but which he felt would help give him an edge was Demonology. First years students of the upperclass weren¡¯t expected to bother with something so esoteric and niche, but there were connections to Arcanum that he felt would be useful to him.


    So it came as a surprise when he went to the appropriate shelves in the library and found them all empty. There was bound to be a reason for this, probably something simple. It wasn¡¯t like anyone could take them out of the library. Luckily, he had a special relationship with the person who would know.


    ¡°Yes,¡± said the librarian. ¡°They¡¯ve been requested by one of the teachers. He¡¯s working on a special project and needs them to be available. They¡¯re in a private study on the second floor.¡±


    ¡°Is the teacher Mr Tenner?¡± asked Nic.


    The librarian looked over her glasses. ¡°You know him?¡±


    ¡°I have him for Arcanum.¡±


    ¡°Maybe, if you ask him, he¡¯ll let you have access to the books you¡¯re interested in.¡±


    Nic nodded. He didn¡¯t particularly like the teachers knowing what he was reading¡ªthey were the ones he was trying to impress¡ªbut Mr Tenner was different. He appreciated the effort as much as the result.


    ¡°Oh, and Nic?¡±


    Nic turned back. ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°Your late night sessions have been noticed by some members of the faculty. They don¡¯t know it¡¯s you, but questions about the lights being on in the middle of the night have been raised.¡±


    ¡°Oh. Sorry.¡±


    ¡°No, it¡¯s fine. Just try to be discrete.¡±


    Nic had Arcanum the next day and after class he approached Mr Tenner. He sat motionless on his chair, his back to the blackboard, staring straight ahead of him into nothingness. He looked tired, Nic thought, and lacked his usual sharpness. He had been subdued during the class, like he had other things on his mind.


    ¡°Mr Tenner?¡±


    Tenner picked up a book, opened it, paged forward a leaf, and then back one. ¡°Hmm? Yes, Tutt? Something I can do for you?¡±


    ¡°There were some books I was looking for in the library. The librarian said you had them in a private room on the second floor.¡±


    He looked up and smiled wanly. ¡°Brushing up on your Demonology, are you? A bit premature, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s to help with my understanding of Arcanum. I think some of the basics are common to both.¡±


    Tenner stood up, a little of the brightness returning to his eyes. ¡°And so they are. Shame we no longer have those early morning lessons to discuss it further. I¡¯ll speak to the librarian and tell her to give you full access. Bright minds shouldn¡¯t be hindered.¡± He strode towards the door.


    ¡°Thank you, sir.¡±


    Tenner stopped in the doorway, a hand on the frame, thinking. Then he turned back to Nic.


    ¡°You know, Tutt, not everything of value can be learned from a book. Some books can lead you away from the truth.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t really have many other options, sir,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°No, I don¡¯t suppose you do. Not yet, anyway. Just be wary of believing everything you read. Information can become outdated, or held back. Not every tome is as truthful as its dusty cover might imply. Sometimes something as simple as supply contracts can lead to one version of a story becoming popular over another. It¡¯s also a business, you know?¡±


    Nic nodded, not sure why he was being told this. It sounded true enough, but not particularly relevant to someone in his position. It was more important to focus on what his examiners believed. His own judgements could wait.


    Nic left the building trying to decide if he should go back to his room first or head straight to the library. It took him a moment to realise something was going on in the main quad. Shouts, squeals, gasps and the roar of flames igniting, followed by the smell of tar.


    The source of the commotion became immediately apparent once he raised his head. Dragons.


    The courtyard brimmed with twelve giant lizards surrounded by hundreds of students oohing and ahhing over them.


    The dragons were black, although their scaly bodies glimmered a range of colours in the sunlight. Their large wings were folded back and they stood in a line still as statues. Only when one would blink or snort did they seem to come alive.


    They had large saddles strapped to their backs, some of which were empty, some containing riders dressed in the livery of the Royal Air Force.


    The commotion seemed to be centred on the largest dragon whose rider was pulling on the incredibly long reins that reached over the serpentine neck to the dragon¡¯s snout, rearing its head back.


    The rider was clearly an officer, his helmet the only one with a giant red feather protruding from the top. Every time the reins were snapped, the dragon released a plume of flames straight up, eliciting more squeals of delight and cries of admiration from the crowd. Nic was held enthralled by the spectacle, but he also noticed that next to the officer, standing on the side of his saddle, was Prince Leovek. Still a student of Ransom, apparently. He was talking animatedly to the dragon rider, as was the right of a member of the royal family. He could probably request a ride, if he wished.


    Nic had no idea why there was a troop of dragon knights in the quad showing off for the students, but he couldn¡¯t help but be impressed by the sight. Ranvar was known for its domination of the skies during warfare; it was only second to their mastery of magic when it came to intimidating their opponents, and for understandable reasons. But seeing the magnificent beasts in person was another thing entirely. The power contained in their huge bodies was palpable, even from where he was standing.


    He was about to go closer¡ªthis was one occasion he was sure his presence would go unnoticed¡ªwhen he spotted two familiar figures rushing towards him. The first was Fanny, walking fast with head bowed. Behind him, Davo trotted to catch up.


    Nic waited for them to get to him. Fanny looked up for a fraction of a second, then veered around Nic and kept going. Davo threw Nic a worried look as he ran past. Nic fell into step with him.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what¡¯s got into him,¡± said Davo. ¡°We were admiring the dragons with everyone else, then he suddenly took off. Won¡¯t say why.¡±


    ¡°Dragonphobic?¡± asked Nic.


    Fanny stopped and turned to them red-faced. ¡°I am not dragonphobic!¡±


    ¡°Fanny!¡± called out a feminine voice. ¡°Fanny! Fanny!¡±


    Fanny¡¯s face fell. The other two turned around as a woman came running up the path towards them. She was dressed in full flight gear with goggles perched on top of her red hair, a big smile on her round face.


    ¡°Friend of yours?¡± asked Davo, although there was more than a passing resemblance between the two making it clear she was more than a friend.


    ¡°My sister.¡±


    ¡°Your sister¡¯s a dragoon?¡± said Nic, unable to stifle the surprise.


    ¡°Trainee,¡± said Fanny.


    ¡°Fanny!¡± She arrived all at once and threw her arms around Fanny, who cringed but didn¡¯t attempt to ward her off. ¡°Oh, how lovely to see you. Ooh, I missed you.¡± She peppered his head with kisses while Nic and Davo exchanged curious looks.


    She eventually stopped the assault but kept one arm locked around Fanny¡¯s neck. ¡°So, are these your friends? Aren¡¯t you going to introduce me?¡±


    ¡°Nic, Davo,¡± mumbled Fanny, ¡°this is my sister Talie. Talie. Nic, Davo.¡±


    She put out her hand and shook each of their hands, firmly. ¡°Delighted. Absolutely delighted. I hope you¡¯re taking good care of my baby brother.¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± said Davo with a smirk. He knew an opportunity to cause Fanny grief when he saw it. ¡°He didn¡¯t tell us his sister was a dragon knight.¡±


    ¡°Oh, well, only in training. We¡¯re taking these birds to the western border to run some exercises, give the neighbours a bit of a show. Only stopping here to let them have a rest and a quick bite. Got anyone you wouldn¡¯t mind feeding to a dragon?¡± She let go of Fanny¡¯s neck and nudged him in the stomach, letting out a barking laugh.


    ¡°Shouldn¡¯t you be going?¡± said Fanny. ¡°I think your Captain¡¯s looking this way.¡±


    Talie raised her arm and waved. The Captain waved back. ¡°No, it¡¯s fine. Not embarrassed of me, are you?¡± She ruffled his hair and punched him in the arm.


    Simole walked past them, her head in a book and an apple in her other hand. She didn¡¯t seem to notice them.


    ¡°That¡¯s Simole,¡± said Fanny, trying to redirect his sister¡¯s attention.


    ¡°Greetings,¡± said Simole without lifting up her head. She kept walking.


    Nic was more interested in what she was reading and craned his head to try and get a glimpse of the cover, walking along with her bent at the waist.


    There was a sharp snap as the lead dragon opened its wings and reared up. It jumped over the crowd and as it landed, its head shot towards Nic and Simole.


    Nic stumbled backwards and fell over as the monstrous head rushed forward propelled by the elongated neck. Simole kept walking absorbed by her book. The huge jaw opened to reveal enormous fangs, and roared directly at Simole, sending her hair flying into the air along with her apple.


    The loss of the apple did catch Simole¡¯s attention and she watched it land on the grass. She turned to look at the dragon, face to face, and smacked it hard on the nose with her book.


    The dragon seemed surprised, as did its rider. The Captain was a tall man with an unmistakably aristocratic face, now enraged. Prince Leovek was no longer present, but Nic suspected this attempt to scare Simole had something to do with him.


    The dragon snorted, smoke rising from its cavernous nostrils. Then it sniffed. Then it raised its head up¡ªclearly not what the rider was expecting as he desperately tried to keep his seat¡ªand roared.


    The sound echoed around the quad. The other dragons¡¯ heads snapped to the left in unison. They began lumbering through the panicked crowd, those with riders and those without. They were answering the call of their pack leader and nothing was going to stop them.


    The lead dragon dropped its head back down and placed it at Simole¡¯s feet, it¡¯s green and yellow eyes looking up at her in a way Nic could only describe as adoringly. The other dragons collected around her and followed suit. They started making a strange whining sound.


    The riders still on board, desperately tried to regain control of their mounts, but their shouts and commands were ignored. The ones who had been on the ground raced to catch up, yelling to be heard over the cries of the scattering students. They were also ignored.


    Simole shook her head and brushed a hand over the snouts laid out around her. The dragons all angled their neck up, heads at forty-five degree angle, and breathed flames into the air. Simole walked through the archway of fire, reading her book like it was no big deal.


    So much for things dying down. Nic knew the questions about Simole would only become more insistent from now on. He had a few himself, but he doubted she would be very forthcoming. He suspected she quite liked being the enigma everyone wanted to solve. Or maybe she truly didn¡¯t care.


    Confusion followed. The dragoons were upset about what had happened. Losing control of their dragons in such a public place was embarrassing and could have been disastrous. There was a lot of shouting and Fanny¡¯s sister had no more time to tease him.


    Nic found it easy to slip away. Since the cottage was on the other side of the hurly-burly, he decided to go to the library until it calmed down. And he had something he wanted to look up.


    ¡°Mr Tenner spoke to me about his private room,¡± said the librarian. ¡°Told me to give you your own key. Quite a collection you¡¯re amassing.¡± She held out a small key.


    ¡°Thank you. Um. Do we have any books on dragons?¡±


    The librarian raised a single, slanted eyebrow. ¡°Obviously. This is a library.¡±


    ¡°Yes, sorry, I mean on dragon socialisation.¡±


    The librarian nodded and told him the name of the book and the shelf it was on. He made his way up to the third floor, to a shelf far in the back. He tapped a dry fingertip along the spines, reading the titles under his breath until he got to the one he was looking for. He eased it out and cradled it in his arms as he turned the pages. He felt a presence approachinghimand turned his head.


    ¡°What are you doing here?¡± said Dizzy.


    ¡°Reading,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°Reading what?¡±


    ¡°Reading¡­ Miss Delcroix?¡±


    Dizzy closed her eyes for a second. ¡°No, I mean what are you reading?¡±


    ¡°Oh. Dragon Social Structure and Grooming. Third Edition.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the book I was looking for.¡±


    ¡°Okay. You can have it after I¡¯m done with it.¡± There were many things Nic was happy to let others have before him. Books were not one of them.


    ¡°And how long will that be,¡± she asked tersely.


    ¡°Mmm.¡± Nic looked at the book. It was a big one. ¡°Three hours? Maybe four.¡±


    There was a glint of something in Dizzy¡¯s eyes. Something cold. She spun around on her heels and stomped off. It was curious. He knew why he wanted to read this book, but what was Dizzy¡¯s interest? The same? Very curious.

 Chapter Ten

    ¡°Now,¡± said Mr Tenner, ¡°as a special treat, we will be having a test next lesson.¡±


    A groan ran around the classroom. Nic sat up a little straighter to see better from the back. This would be the first test since he¡¯d arrived at Ransom. The thought of taking all he had learned over the last few weeks and comparing his comprehension against the other students was quite exciting.


    ¡°Yes, I can see how thrilled you all are, but worry not, ladies and gentlemen, I will tell you the question you will be asked in advance so you can all get top marks. And those who don¡¯t get top marks, well, I suppose there will be consequences. But why dwell on unpleasantness when I¡¯m sure you will all pass with flying colours?¡±


    Tenner paused to smile, his thin face projecting an air of malice Nic found confusing. What was this test where you were told the questions beforehand?


    ¡°It¡¯s simple, really,¡± continued Tenner. He held up a small book. ¡°We have been using the Roke Index these last few lessons. Very useful, I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll agree. Three hundred and twelve simple equations to deconstruct any Arcanum field. All you need to do is write them down. From memory.¡±


    There was an even bigger groan this time. Nic frowned. It wasn¡¯t a proper examination, it was just learning by rote. The Roke Index was very useful, and knowing the equations off by heart would certainly prove expedient when it came to the real exams, but it was still disappointing. There would be mostly perfect scores in this test.


    ¡°Think how much cleverer you will become once your brains are swollen with all this lovely information,¡± said Tenner gleefully. He had regained some of his verve in the last few days and was more like his old, sinister self.


    The bell rang for the end of class.


    ¡°Mr Tutt? If I might see you for a moment?¡±


    There was some muttering at Nic¡¯s name being called, and a few dark glances shot in his direction. It was mild compared to what they¡¯d all been subjected to over the last week since Simole¡¯s display of draconic control. No one dared confront her directly, so it was the other Also-Rans who received the dirty looks. But even that had died down, now. Nic suspected the teachers¡¯ had had a word with the students to make sure they didn¡¯t provoke the girl who could command dragons. Added to which, there was always the chance the Secret Service were watching.


    Nic stood by Mr Tenner¡¯s desk, waiting while he rearranged the papers and books spread across the desktop. Once the last of the student¡¯s had filed out, Tenner looked up at him.


    ¡°Ah, there you are,¡± he said, as though he¡¯d only just noticed Nic. ¡°I wanted to thank you. I was in my private room in the library and I noticed my books and papers had been moved. I say moved, perhaps a better word would be ¡®organised¡¯. Your handiwork, I presume.¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir. Sorry, sir. It¡¯s a habit. I must have done it without thinking.¡±


    ¡°No need to apologise. Made it much easier to find what I was looking for. There was just one thing that seemed out of place. A book on dragons.¡± He said the word like he was tasting it. ¡°Yours?¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir. I was reading it and needed somewhere where it wouldn¡¯t be¡­ borrowed by someone else.¡±


    ¡°I thought you were reading up on Demonology. Hence the need to share.¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir. But it occurred to me that if Ranvar is the only country that has a natural dragon population, and also the only country that is able to produce mages, that there might be a connection. Something that goes back to the origins of Arcanum.¡±


    ¡°Interesting.¡± Tenner slid his long fingers down either side of his pointed chin. ¡°An observation that has been made before, of course, but nothing conclusive has ever been found. You think you might succeed where others have failed?¡±


    ¡°I think I might find something I can use in the end of year exams, sir.¡± While that was possible, it had nothing to do with why he had hidden the book in Tenner¡¯s private room.


    ¡°And apparently you do not wish the other students to have access to this information. It¡¯s not an unethical move, I suppose, but hardly good sportsmanship.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t play sports, sir,¡± said Nic.


    Tenner laughed, short and sharp. ¡°Of course not. Games are for children.¡± He stood up and slapped Nic on the back. ¡°My hope is that you somehow find your way to the Royal College. I know that isn¡¯t your ambition, but I would greatly enjoy seeing the masters there having to deal with someone like you.¡± He laughed again and headed for the door.


    ¡°Sir?¡±


    Tenner stopped and turned. ¡°Yes, Nic?¡±


    ¡°About the Roke Index.¡±


    ¡°Yes? I expect you already have the whole thing committed to memory.¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir. I was wondering about Equation 27, the March Lines.¡± Tenner nodded slightly, enough to let Nic know he should continue. ¡°I was thinking, the Secret Service, they must use a form of shadow magic to move around without being detected.¡±


    ¡°Something like that. What has that to do with March Lines?¡±


    ¡°Couldn¡¯t you use March Lines to detect them, the way you can with a demonic field? There was a section about it in¡ª¡±


    ¡°Saxon¡¯s Demon Wave Theory,¡± said Tenner, cutting in. His eyes were alight with interest now. ¡°Yes. Go on.¡±


    ¡°Well, I was just thinking, if the Secret Service use a similar process, their position could be easily detected with one of those, erm, plant identifiers we use to find herbs with heavy Arcanum deposits.¡±


    ¡°Very good. Yes, you are correct. With some modification, and a small infusion of raw Arcanum, you could indeed. But why would you want to locate the position of our brave Secret Service agents as they strive to keep us all safe?¡±


    ¡°Oh, no, no, that¡¯s not what I meant.¡± Nic looked around nervously. There could be any number of agents in the room with them right now. ¡°I only wanted to know if it was possible to use the equations across different fields.¡±


    Tenner smiled, without malice this time. ¡°It would be such a waste if you don¡¯t pursue Arcanum as a vocation in some form. You don¡¯t have to be a mage, you know? There are other areas of research that could use a mind like yours.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, sir,¡± said Nic, not sure what those areas might be. If you studied Arcanum but weren¡¯t a mage, what were you?


    ¡°Such potential,¡± said Tenner as he walked out. ¡°Don¡¯t burn too bright, too quickly. We have need of boys like you.¡±


    Nic found Davo and Fanny waiting for him outside the classroom.


    ¡°Thought it best not to leave you on your own,¡± said Davo. ¡°More vulnerable once you get separated from the herd.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think the students will do anything when everyone¡¯s on high alert,¡± said Nic. ¡°They¡¯d get in too much trouble.¡±


    ¡°Oh, Nic,¡± said Davo. ¡°So young, so naive. Do you really think children of the elite worry about what might happen in the future? They do as they wish and leave it to others to clean up the mess.¡±


    ¡°That thing you said to Tenner,¡± said Fanny, ¡°about modding the herb detector, would that really work?¡±


    ¡°You were eavesdropping?¡± said Nic, surprised their voices had carried.


    ¡°No,¡± said Fanny. ¡°Not intentionally. So, would it?¡±


    ¡°Yes, but you need the extended version of March Lines, so you can make it self-adapt.¡±


    ¡°Right, right, of course,¡± Fanny muttered to himself.


    ¡°You¡¯d need a detector first,¡± said Davo.


    ¡°I¡¯ve got one in my room,¡± said Fanny. ¡°Forgot to return it.¡±


    Davo gave Fanny a disapproving look. ¡°And who are you going to go looking for? Demons?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not demons we need to worry about,¡± said Fanny. He lowered his voice. ¡°Secret Service have us all under surveillance.¡±


    ¡°I doubt it,¡± said Davo. ¡°It¡¯s expensive following people around. They wouldn¡¯t bother with the likes of you. They have better things to do than watch you exercise in private.¡±


    ¡°No, but they¡¯d watch Simole, wouldn¡¯t they?¡± said Fanny.


    ¡°Yes, there is that,¡± agreed Davo.


    ¡°Where is Simole?¡± asked Nic.


    ¡°Who knows?¡± said Fanny. ¡°She¡¯s even harder to keep track of than the Secret Service.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m right here,¡± said Simole, making Fanny jump.


    ¡°Don¡¯t do that,¡± said Fanny, red-faced. ¡°Were you there the whole time? Can you hide in shadows, too?¡±


    ¡°No, I went to get something to eat.¡± She held up a bar of chocolate. ¡°Want some?¡±


    They all took a piece and stood chewing at each other.


    Nic was first to finish. ¡°I¡¯m going to the¡ª¡±


    ¡°Library,¡± Davo finished for him. ¡°We know. You¡¯re obsessed. It isn¡¯t healthy.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not obsessed,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°Completely obsessed,¡± agreed Fanny.


    ¡°Madly in love with the place,¡± confirmed Simole.


    ¡°And,¡± said Davo, ¡°I think that librarian has the hots for you. She always has one eye in your direction. I know a window shopper when I see one.¡±


    ¡°Probably thinks he¡¯s going to steal one of her precious books,¡± said Fanny.


    ¡°Mark my words,¡± said Davo ominously. ¡°I¡¯ve seen that hungry look before. Women of a certain age start to get a hankering. They insist on help to try on shoes, but they aren¡¯t there to buy slingbacks.¡±


    ¡°I have no idea what you¡¯re talking about,¡± said Simole.


    ¡°Me neither,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°What¡¯s a slingback?¡± asked Fanny.


    They made their way to the library, four outsiders now inured to the sideways looks and whispers following them. People moved out of their way and avoided eye contact. Nic much preferred it when they were completely ignored, but that wasn¡¯t possible anymore.


    ¡°The Roke Index,¡± said Fanny, ¡°was it named after that female Archmage?¡±


    ¡°Winnum Roke? I don¡¯t know,¡± said Nic. ¡°Probably, but I¡¯ve never seen any official mention of it.¡±


    ¡°Typical,¡± said Simole with a huff.


    ¡°You never know,¡± said Davo, ¡°maybe it was named after her husband.¡± Davo tripped barely managing to stay on his feet. ¡°Did you do that?¡±


    Simole smiled innocently. ¡°Me? No.¡± She shook her head unconvincingly.


    When they got to the library, Fanny went straight to the desk. ¡°Can you tell me where to find a copy of the Roke Index, the extended edition?¡±


    The librarian was picking at a book binding with tweezers. ¡°Third floor, reference shelves to the right of the stairs,¡± she said without looking up. As they turned to go, she added, ¡°Nic? If I might have a word?¡±Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    ¡°Yes, of course. I¡¯ll catch you up.¡±


    The others exchanged looks but left without saying anything. Nic walked back to the desk.


    ¡°How did you find that book I recommended, Nic?¡± asked the librarian, in rather a pointed manner, Nic thought. ¡°The one on dragons.¡±


    ¡°Yes, very good. Thank you.¡±


    ¡°No one¡¯s asked for that book in years, but just after you did, another student asked for exactly the same book.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡± said Nic. ¡°That¡¯s a funny coincidence.¡±


    ¡°Isn¡¯t it? And then imagine my surprise when she said it wasn¡¯t where I said it would be. I even checked, myself. No sign of it. Do you think perhaps you may have misshelved it?¡±


    ¡°No. Actually, it¡¯s in Mr Tenner¡¯s private study room.¡±


    The librarian arched an eyebrow. ¡°Well, that would explain it. And why would it be in there? Is Mr Tenner looking to switch his research to another area? It would seem rash after so many years invested in Demonology.¡±


    ¡°No, not exactly. I just needed to put it somewhere it wouldn¡¯t cause any¡­ disruption.¡±


    The librarian peered over her glasses at him for a long time. Then she took off her glasses and peered a bit more. ¡°You think a book on the mating habits of dragons would be disruptive?¡±


    ¡°Very.¡±


    ¡°I see. Well, I suppose it will turn up eventually.¡± She put her glasses back on and resumed working on the binding.


    Nic turned around and headed after the others. He caught up with them on the staircase.


    ¡°She called you Nic,¡± said Davo.


    ¡°Yes, that¡¯s my name.¡±


    ¡°She doesn¡¯t call anyone else by their first name.¡± Davo leaned closer to him. ¡°Beware the slingbacks.¡±


    It was dusk when they returned to the cottage and there was a man standing outside. He was tall, sharp-faced and quick-eyed, which made Nic suspicious of his intentions. He had the air of a teacher, but not one they had seen before.


    ¡°Ah, there you are,¡± he said as they approached. ¡°I was just about to leave. No answer.¡± He rapped his knuckles on the door to illustrate. ¡°I¡¯m Mr Poosam, the Deputy Head. I don¡¯t believe we¡¯ve had the chance to meet.¡±


    He said it like he wasn¡¯t sure, but since no one had bothered to welcome them to the school, it hardly took guesswork.


    ¡°Miss Caram, it¡¯s a pleasure to have you at our school.¡±


    Nic didn¡¯t like the way the Deputy Head was being so polite. It felt like a prelude to something bad. Poosam¡¯s smile was so fake it practically had strings tied to the corners.


    He dipped his head slightly in Simole¡¯s direction. It wasn¡¯t quite a bow, but it showed some kind of deference.


    The boys looked at Simole, getting that strange feeling they were in the middle of some event they hadn¡¯t been invited to. They cautiously left the two of them and went inside, closed the door and then stood with their ears pressed against it at three different heights.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± said Simole. ¡°The Headmaster not available?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid not. He is extremely busy, as I¡¯m sure you appreciate.¡± There was a distinct frost in the air. Even the door couldn¡¯t stop them feeling the chill. ¡°He sends his warmest greetings and hopes to meet you in person, when he has the time.¡±


    ¡°I look forward to it,¡± said Simole in a very unanticipatory manner. ¡°Was there anything else?¡±


    ¡°Yes, indeed. The Head would like to offer you special accommodation while you¡¯re with us. This, er¡­ dwelling is perhaps a little inconvenient. Something more central to the campus. And a shift to more private tutorials. I know you had access to a few of those already. We were thinking of allowing you more individualised teaching, for your convenience.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± said Simole. The chill factor was off the scale.


    ¡°Ah, yes, I can see you¡¯re not receptive to the idea. It¡¯s just that your presence has caused some minor upsets in the balance of normal school life, and we thought it would help calm the other students if you were¡ª¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not moving and I¡¯m not taking lessons in private.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think you quite understand¡ª¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think you understand why I¡¯m here. I have a letter signed by the King saying I am to be a normal student, treated no differently to my peers. If you have an issue with him in this matter, I suggest you contact him through his office. Or one of his ministries.¡±


    There was a long moment of silence. The boys pushed their ears harder against the door, risking splinters to hear what was happening.


    ¡°Yes, I see,¡± said the Deputy Head. He wasn¡¯t a man to brook nonsense from his students. In this case, he seemed to have little choice. ¡°I will inform the Head of your¡­ request.¡±


    ¡°It isn¡¯t a request, but feel free to tell the Head what you wish. I look forward to hearing his reply. In person.¡±


    There was some movement. The boys sprang away from the door and took up completely unnatural positions around the hall. Simole came in and stopped to give them each a disparaging look. Fanny leaning awkwardly on his elbow on the back of one of the armchairs; Davo inspecting the doorframe to the kitchen; Nic tying the shoelaces of his already tied shoes.


    She left them to it and went into her room.


    ¡°Who is she?¡± said Fanny. ¡°I mean, really? How can anyone get away with talking to a teacher like that?¡±


    ¡°Not our business,¡± said Davo, leaning nearer to Simole¡¯s door. ¡°And watch what you say. We may not be alone.¡±


    Simole¡¯s door opened and Davo jumped back to his doorframe inspection.


    ¡°Roke¡¯s Index,¡± she said. ¡°How are you supposed to memorise so many equations?¡±


    ¡°They run in a sequence,¡± said Nic. ¡°Once you learn the first ten, there¡¯s a repeating pattern.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± said Davo.


    ¡°Really?¡± said Fanny. ¡°Why didn¡¯t he say so?¡±


    Nic shrugged. ¡°You¡¯re probably supposed to work it out for yourself. Isn¡¯t that the way Arcanum works?¡± He looked at Simole.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± said Simole. ¡°I never bothered with the theoretics.¡±


    The next few hours were spent in Nic¡¯s room, showing the others how the equations repeated themselves while simultaneously going over his Herbology homework. Once they got it, Davo and Fanny went off to their rooms to fix the pattern in their minds. Fanny was giggling to himself, Davo whistled a merry tune.


    ¡°You¡¯re a good person to have around,¡± said Simole.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± said Nic. ¡°Glad to be of use.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t mean it like that,¡± said Simole, scrunching up her mouth. ¡°Or maybe I did. Sorry.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be. I don¡¯t mind,¡± said Nic.


    She got up to leave and paused halfway to the door. ¡°Don¡¯t you want to know who I am, Nic?¡±


    ¡°I already know who you are.¡± The book he was reading, provided by Davo, had thick pages. It wasn¡¯t like the cheap version they had been assigned by the school. These pages were stiff like cardboard and had incredibly detailed drawings of plants in black ink. They appeared to have been hand drawn directly onto the page, not printed. How many of these books had they produced?


    ¡°You do, do you? Found the answer in a book, did you?¡± asked Simole, watching him closely as his eyes skimmed down and across and down again.


    ¡°Actually, yes. Dragon Social Structure and Grooming. Third Edition.¡± Nic carefully prised two pages apart and turned to the next section. A wall of unhelpfully tiny words filled the yellowing paper; a sight that made Nic feel like a miner approaching a rock wall. In a gold mine.


    The words entered his mind, dancing into position beside their waiting partners. Fresh information, new associations, greater understanding.


    She walked over to his desk. ¡°Who am I?¡±


    ¡°Simole van Dastan. Archmage van Dastan¡¯s daughter.¡± He put his finger on the page. Deep in the text, he¡¯d struck gold.


    On the register, she was Simole Caram. Her parents were recorded as Viktor and Belina Caram, owners of a grocery store in the town of Vigle. Nothing remarkable.


    Simole slid her hand under one side and flipped the the book closed. He jerked his head back and gave her a questioning look. He had just got to a part in the processing of herbal elixirs that explained why you had to crush the leaves and not cut them up, which would be useful to know for the the upcoming exams. They had been taught that as the preferred method, but not told why. He would know, and the examiners would be impressed; as long as Simole let him finish. He still had his finger inserted between the pages to keep his place. Luckily, she hadn¡¯t slammed the book shut or he would have needed a splint, which would have been disastrous. It¡¯s not easy to write with a broken finger.


    ¡°You figured that out from a book?¡±


    ¡°Dragons have a rigid social structure,¡± he said.


    ¡°Oh?¡± said Simole. ¡°Is that right?¡±


    Nic nodded. ¡°They form packs and each pack has a leader. They¡¯re a bit like dogs. They even have a similar reliance on smell to identify each other and their status. They use dragon urine in their training process, but I¡¯m not sure how that works. Haven¡¯t got to that part yet.¡±


    ¡°I see. You¡¯re thinking of becoming a dragon knight?¡±


    ¡°Me? No. I don¡¯t like heights.¡±


    ¡°Carry on. Dragons are just like dogs.¡±


    ¡°Yes. Only, dragons are all female.¡±


    ¡°All of them?¡±


    ¡°All except one. The High Father. Father of all dragons. I¡¯m not sure how that works, either.¡±


    ¡°Probably for the best,¡± said Simole.


    ¡°Hmm,¡± said Nic, although if there was knowledge to be had, he considered it better to know than not. ¡°They¡ªthe dragons, I mean¡ªare completely subservient to the High Father. He¡¯s like their god, as well as their dad.¡±


    Simole¡¯s gaze drifted away to the window. ¡°Some fathers are like that.¡±


    ¡°The dragons the other day, they smelled their father on you. It was enough for them to bow their heads. Lots of bowing in dragon culture. Not so much like dogs. More like people.¡±


    ¡°So you connected me to the High Father of dragons.¡±


    ¡°Yes. And everyone knows the most powerful dragon in Ranvar belongs to the Archmage. Although, I don¡¯t suppose he¡¯s the Archmage anymore.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Simole sighed. ¡°Now he¡¯s just the traitor van Dastan. Have you told anyone else?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°And the book on dragons?¡±


    ¡°I put it somewhere safe. I haven¡¯t finished reading it yet¡ªthe breeding cycle is very complicated. But, you know, if I was able to figure it out, so will others. The dragoons, for a start. And once they do¡­¡±


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter.¡± Simole waved away his concerns with a dismissive hand. ¡°They¡¯ll be ordered to forget about it.¡±


    ¡°Secret Service?¡± asked Nic.


    ¡°Maybe. Probably the Ministry of Instruction.¡±


    Nic¡¯s ears perked up at the mention of the name.


    Simole noted the reaction. ¡°You¡¯ve heard of them?¡±


    ¡°Hm,¡± said Nic. ¡°Yes. Kind of. I don¡¯t really know what they do, though.¡± He didn¡¯t feel comfortable revealing his connection to Minister Delcroix. Or that he was Dizzy¡¯s father.


    ¡°Pray you never do,¡± said Simole. They both sat silently for a moment. ¡°You aren¡¯t curious to know about the traitor?¡±


    Nic shrugged. ¡°Not really.¡±


    ¡°Because it won¡¯t be a question on the mocks?¡±


    ¡°Are you mocking me?¡± said Nic.


    ¡°Funny.¡± Simole placed her hand on top of the book and pressed down. Nic winced as his finger got squished. ¡°Don¡¯t pun with me. I know dark spells.¡± Her words were threatening, but her smile was playful.


    Nic pulled out his finger and stuck it in his mouth. Now he¡¯d lost his place. ¡°I suppose your dad taught you.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Simole, sitting back. ¡°Since I was three, every day. Not all magic, just attack and defence. He called me his Little Weapon. That¡¯s what I was to him. Everything they said about him, it was all lies. All of it.¡±


    Nic took his finger out of his mouth. ¡°Okay.¡± He had seen some of the reports in the newspaper the previous year when the government had claimed to have foiled a great and terrible plot. It involved foreign powers and assassinations, but Nic hadn¡¯t paid it much mind. Partly because the newspapers rarely reported accurately, and partly because it wasn¡¯t going to come up on any test.


    ¡°No, I mean what he was planning to do was far, far worse. That¡¯s why I had to turn him in.¡± Her mouth tightened into a hard, straight line. ¡°No one expects their own weapon to turn on them. I betrayed my own father, Nic.¡± She dropped her head. ¡°Now he sits in a special cell. A regular jail wouldn¡¯t be able to hold him, so they built one for him. They wouldn¡¯t have been able to catch him without my help. We¡¯re both traitors. Runs in the family.¡±


    She looked like she might start crying. Nic had been in this situation before. His mother would sometimes get sad, usually for no reason. None that he could understand, anyway. It used to make him uncomfortable, but he learned to sit with her and wait. It was enough. He did the same now.


    Simole raised her head. There were no tears in her eyes. It was more like a fire burned in them.


    ¡°This was part of my deal, coming to Ransom. A chance to learn the things my father never taught me.¡±


    ¡°Didn¡¯t you want to go to the Royal College?¡± asked Nic. ¡°I¡¯m sure you could get in.¡±


    ¡°They did offer, but I wanted to know what it was like being around people my own age. I grew up in a castle on a mountain, with a dragon. It isn¡¯t as glamorous as it sounds. Castles are drafty and cleaning up after a dragon is no fun. Not like dogs.¡±


    Having seen dragons up close, the size of their droppings had to be close to ridiculous.


    The door swung open as Fanny ran in. ¡°I did it! Look.¡± He had a herb detector in his hands.


    Davo came in behind. ¡°What now? Why are you screeching like that?¡±


    ¡°Look!¡± Fanny held up the device.


    ¡°Don¡¯t tell me you broke it,¡± said Davo.


    ¡°No, look. I used the March List. It can detect dark Arcanum now. Probably. I just need someone to stick some raw Arcanum into it.¡± He looked at Simole.


    She scowled and stood up.


    ¡°It¡¯s good to be useful,¡± said Nic.


    Her attempt at walking out faltered as she took in Nic¡¯s meaning. She looked at him, and then at Fanny eagerly holding up the box. She rolled her eyes and snatched it from him, stared at it and then gave it back. It looked no different.


    ¡°Is that it?¡± said Fanny, sounding disappointed.


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you go hunting for agents?¡± said Simole. ¡°I¡¯m sure they¡¯ll be happy to see you.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± said Fanny, ¡°I didn¡¯t think about it like that. I don¡¯t have to let them know I found them, I just want to know if I can.¡± He turned the detector on. It made a low humming sound.


    When they used the detectors to find Arcanum-rich herbs, the box would click when in close proximity. Fanny waved it around. The box started clicking faintly. He followed the direction to Nic¡¯s desk, and then to the left drawer.


    Nic opened it. The only thing in it was a pen. He took it out and the detector clicked slightly louder.


    ¡°Why do you have a magic pen?¡± asked Davo. ¡°Full of dark Arcanum?¡±


    ¡°It isn¡¯t magic, it¡¯s a graduation gift from my mother¡¯s boss. He works for the government. Must be residual.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± said Fanny. ¡°You think the detector¡¯s that sensitive?¡± He proceeded to excitedly scan the entire cottage, the area outside and the pond. He found nothing apart from some angry midges.


    Having failed to unearth agents in hiding, Fanny put the box away and they went to dinner.


    Later that night, Nic borrowed the detector. He said he wanted to see if he could fine tune it and Fanny was only too happy to let him have it. When everyone had gone to sleep, he snuck out and made his way to the library.


    When he had asked Tenner about the possibility of modifying the herb detector, it wasn¡¯t the Secret Service agents he was interested in tracking. There were books in the library that were kept separated. They contained knowledge that was both rare and powerful. So powerful, the books became infused with magic just through containing instructive words. They weren¡¯t spells, but they contained their source.


    With the detector, he would, he theorised, be able to work out where those books were kept. He wouldn¡¯t necessarily be able to gain access to them, but knowing their location was the first step.


    He entered using his key. The library was deathly quiet. He lit a lantern and turned it down so low it hardly lit his way at all, but he didn¡¯t want to attract attention, not tonight. There was enough moonlight falling through the tall windows to enable him to avoid walking into anything.


    He turned on the detector and it immediately began to click. He moved it around, but the magic field seemed to be in all directions, surrounding him.


    By turning slowly and listening hard, he was able to discern some difference. He followed it to the second floor, towards the back. There was nothing ahead of him except for an empty wall. A secret door? He pointed the detector to the side to examine the wall more closely and there was a sharp shriek from the box. A jolt went up his arm and then the box exploded. It wasn¡¯t loud or violent, just a pop and a whiff of smoke. He dropped it and it broke into pieces.


    The detector had been pointing at the window. Nic went to it and looked out. The Pagoda stood in the moonlight, like it was waiting for him.

 Chapter Eleven

    Nic watched from the window on the second floor of the library. He extinguished the lantern which was already at its lowest setting, and touched his nose to the cool glass.


    The Pagoda, looming tall and straight over the trees, was ink-black against the faintly glittering night sky. The moon was lost behind some clouds to the far left, but there was still enough residual light to silhouette the Pagoda¡¯s curious lines.


    Something over there had set off the modified herb detector. Something emitting enough dark Arcanum to make it go up in smoke; there was still a sharp tang of burning hanging in the air. The box was now in several pieces on the floor, although that was a result of Nic dropping it.


    He looked for movement, some sign of life, but there was only the gentle sway of the treetops. There were no windows in the structure that he could see, no leaking of light. It wouldn¡¯t be a surprise if the work Mr Tenner was doing over there produced some dark Arcanum, but had he actually managed to pierce the wall between dimensions? It seemed unlikely. The world hadn¡¯t ended, for a start.


    Nic turned his head and pressed his ear to the glass. He heard the wind and not much else. It was after midnight and no one was around, so nothing was what you would expect to hear. Nic felt a mixture of relief and disappointment. According to Mallory, screams were often heard in the Pagoda¡¯s vicinity, but that may have just been teasing.


    Mallory hadn¡¯t been around much. The second year students of the Upperclass had their own building and their studies were supposed to be very intense. Nic imagined it couldn¡¯t be much fun for Mallory, the last of the four Also-Rans from the previous year¡¯s intake. Not that he asked for sympathy. He kept to himself and didn¡¯t like to be burdened with distractions. Even showing Nic and the others around had been a huge inconvenience to him, as he was only too happy to make clear. Still, he had been here a year (and survived) so he probably knew a good deal about how the school operated. How it really operated. He was a resource, just like the library, and worth probing for information.


    A line of yellow light appeared at the base of the Pagoda. A door opened. Nic ducked down, even though the chances of him being spotted were slim. He peeked over the sill and saw a figure emerge; a man. From the thin, angular body, it looked like Tenner, but his face wasn¡¯t visible with the light behind him. He stretched, arms reaching high over his head, and then bent double to touch his toes. He straightened again and did a little jig, shaking out his legs. Maybe it wasn¡¯t Tenner.


    Nic watched with no real idea why the Pagoda fascinated him so. He certainly couldn¡¯t tell what was going on over there, if anything. The detector going crazy had set his imagination running wild, that was all. Visions of unstable magic out of control and about to come bursting through the walls, but he realised that was silly. Nothing had happened. He was in a library by himself hiding from no one.


    The man turned around and went back inside, closing the door behind him. With him went Nic¡¯s interest in staring out of a window for no reason. It was just another building, albeit a strangely shaped one. Nothing sinister, nothing to help him with his studies.


    Nic waited a few seconds and then relit the lamp. He set it down and picked up the pieces of the detector. It had broken into three large sections and there were two rocks that gave off a smoky whiff when he sniffed them. He assumed they had come from the detector. The librarian was unlikely to leave rocks lying around on the floor.


    He had no idea how it was supposed to fit back together. Quite possibly it was beyond repair. Fanny wouldn¡¯t be happy. He wasn¡¯t happy, either. His plan to find the special books he was sure were somewhere in the library had been ruined. It was curious how high the background Arcanum level was. Perhaps the books he had been seeking were spread out in different locations, or maybe Tenner¡¯s experiments were flooding the area around the Pagoda. Either way, his search for the elusive books would have to wait.


    He locked up the library and made his way back to the cottage. The clouds had drifted away and the moon hung low in the sky, lighting his way. He¡¯d made the trip across campus countless times, but it had never felt quite like this. It felt like something had happened, yet nothing had. Not that he could tell, anyway.


    Despite the lack of anything to be genuinely concerned about, he still felt a surge of relief as he approached the cottage. It might not have become a proper home to him but it was still a safe refuge.


    ¡°Nice walk?¡± said a voice, making Nic jump and nearly drop the pieces of the detector cradled in his arms. Simole was leaning out of her bedroom window with her chin on the heel of her palm.


    ¡°Oh, it¡¯s you,¡± said Nic, his relief even greater.


    ¡°What¡¯s got you so jumpy?¡±


    Nic frowned. ¡°You, obviously. Shouldn¡¯t you be in bed? It¡¯s late.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m in my bedroom,¡± she pointed out. ¡°You¡¯re the one on night manoeuvres.¡±


    ¡°I was just¡ª¡±


    ¡°At the library?¡±


    Nic hesitated. How did she know that? It would be a fair guess during the day, but it was the middle of the night.


    ¡°I¡¯ve seen you sneak out before,¡± said Simole, reading his mind, ¡°so I followed you one night. I had this crazy idea you and that girl were secret lovers and the whole scene between you was just a charade to hide your true feelings from the world. I expected to see unbridled passion. Imagine my disappointment when you slipped into the back of the library. You didn¡¯t even have to break in, you had a key. Your life lacks romance, Nic, in every sense.¡±


    Nic listened to Simole with mounting discomfort. ¡°Why did you think¡­ Of course it wasn¡¯t a charade. She really hates me. Where do you get these crazy ideas from?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t you ever read books that aren¡¯t full of facts and figures?¡±


    ¡°Story books? No,¡± said Nic. ¡°Why would I?¡±


    They were both silent a long while in the darkness, each trying to get the measure of the other, and failing.


    Simole shook her head. ¡°You should come inside. You must be getting cold.¡±


    He was, but he only realised it once she mentioned it. He walked around to the front and Simole opened the door for him. He nodded his thanks and went to his room. Simole followed and walked in without waiting to be invited.


    ¡°You can learn a lot from books that tell you stories. A farm boy goes on a quest, fights giants and wicked villains, and wins a kingdom. Don¡¯t you find that inspiring?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said Nic. ¡°I find it statistically unlikely.¡±


    Simole made a weird sound. It took a moment for Nic to realise she was giggling.


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t joking,¡± he said.


    ¡°I know,¡± she said, ¡°that¡¯s why it¡¯s funny.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t need to be inspired.¡± He put the detector on his desk. The pieces didn¡¯t look too smashed up. There were grooves in the side. Maybe he could slot it back together.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you?¡± said Simole. ¡°I think you already have been. You wouldn¡¯t be here, otherwise.¡±


    ¡°Yes. And look how well that worked out.¡± He began fiddling with the pieces.


    ¡°There are other truths, you know? Ones that you can¡¯t learn by being told. You have to see them. Feel them. A silly, made up story can do that. A farm boy becomes king and the person reading the story realises they can reach a little higher than they thought. That¡¯s worthwhile, don¡¯t you think?¡±


    The pieces of the broken detector were being stubborn and not fitting together. What he needed was a manual. He should have thought of it when he was in the library.


    ¡°I came here because a dumb kid thought something was possible when it wasn¡¯t. It was worth trying, but not surprising it failed. I don¡¯t mind it, but I wouldn¡¯t encourage anyone else to do the same as me.¡±


    ¡°Stay where you are and accept your place?¡± said Simole.


    ¡°No. Try as hard as you can, but don¡¯t feel bad if you fail.¡±


    ¡°How?¡± asked Simole. ¡°It hurts when you fail.¡±This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    ¡°It hurts when you succeed. I did well to make it to this school. It was what I wanted and I did it. Now I have to deal with the consequences. How I feel is temporary.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know how you can take it so calmly. I can see why you confuse her so much.¡±


    Nic stopped his fiddling. ¡°She didn¡¯t seem confused to me. She was very, very clear, I thought.¡±


    Simole stood beside him, picked up the pieces of the detector and expertly slotted them together. She took the two stones from his hand and popped them into an opening Nic hadn¡¯t noticed before.


    ¡°Not everything has a simple solution like an example in a textbook. Some things don¡¯t have an answer. Some have answers that keep changing.¡± She handed the detector back to him.


    He took it and looked it over. ¡°You sound like Mr Tenner when you talk like that.¡±


    ¡°Is that a good thing or a bad thing?¡± asked Simole.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± said Nic. ¡°The answer keeps changing.¡±


    Simole smiled. ¡°You¡¯re a quick learner.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Nic. ¡°I am.¡±


    ***


    Classes resumed and with the end of year mocks approaching, the students had less time to glare disapprovingly at the Also-Rans. Despite being the children of wealth and privilege, no one could afford to slack off in the Upperclass. If you didn¡¯t maintain an acceptable standard, you were asked to leave, whoever you were.


    The change in atmosphere was noticeable. Questions were asked more frequently during lessons and even the teachers took on a more aggressive approach, doubling the amount of work required outside of class.


    Nic found it invigorating, like a runner seeing his competition closing.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think this is working,¡± said Fanny. He waved the detector around. It made no sound. ¡°I tried it on Nic¡¯s magic pen. Not a sausage.¡±


    They were sitting on the floor in front of the fire, revising for the mocks. Nuts and dried berries were piled high in bowls. Fanny¡¯s pantry supplied all their nutritional needs. He also had a bag of chocolates, for their non-nutritional needs.


    ¡°The Arcanum¡¯s probably run out,¡± said Simole.


    Nic looked up and caught her eye. He had returned the herbal detector to Fanny looking just the same as when he took it, but it no longer detected dark Arcanum. Or magic herbs. He felt a bit guilty about breaking it, but it wasn¡¯t Fanny¡¯s and the school had plenty more. They wouldn¡¯t miss this one; they hadn¡¯t so far.


    He carried on reading Borders and Frontiers by Westan and Blake. He¡¯d read it many times before, but this was the latest edition, ordered by Davo. Not even the school had this version.


    ¡°I think something¡¯s rattling around inside,¡± said Fanny, peering into the hole in the side of the box. ¡°I wonder if I can fix it.¡±


    Davo pushed a book across the floor towards him. ¡°If you pass the exams maybe you can get a job as a herbal detector repairman. You¡¯ll make a decent living.¡±


    Nic wasn¡¯t used to studying with others. He wasn¡¯t used to doing anything with others. It wasn¡¯t the most efficient way to work¡ªplenty of interruptions and unnecessary arguments¡ªbut there was a comforting air to the way the four of them interacted, like they¡¯d known each other for years, rather than a few weeks.


    ¡°We shouldn¡¯t overdo things,¡± said Fanny, pushing the book back. ¡°We¡¯re already going to crush the competition, we don¡¯t want to burn ourselves out.¡±


    ¡°Overconfidence will be your undoing,¡± said Davo. ¡°You might beat the other students, but you¡¯ll still come fourth.¡±


    Fanny put down the detector and picked up the book. ¡°To be honest, I wouldn¡¯t mind fourth. For the mocks. It¡¯d be great to see their faces when our names are read out.¡±


    Confidence was high all around. Judging by the sorts of questions asked in class, the regular students were some way behind the four of them. But there were other students.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think it¡¯s going to be that easy,¡± said Nic. ¡°There¡¯s going to be quite a few people trying their hardest. Everyone in the Standard Club.¡±


    They were all aware of the high standards Ransom expected of its students. It would be foolhardy to think they would show a lack of effort now.


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure it¡¯s such a good idea for us to challenge the top students,¡± said Davo. ¡°We¡¯ve already made enough of a splash to get everyone¡¯s back up. If we actually took the top four spots, there would be panic in the halls of the Department of Education. In the halls of Ransom, too. Parents would lose their minds and kids would be throwing themselves off rooftops. Do we really want to create a fuss like that?¡± He looked at Simole. ¡°Again.¡±


    It was an exaggeration, but only a slight one.


    ¡°What do you want us to do?¡± asked Fanny. ¡°Fail on purpose?¡±


    Davo gave a half-hearted shrug.


    ¡°You do?¡± said Fanny. ¡°You want us to take a dive?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s only mocks,¡± said Davo. ¡°The real test is in the summer. We can afford to take it a little easier now. I mean, it won¡¯t affect our results, will it? And it might save us a lot of grief in the long run. Something worth considering. What do you think, Nic?¡±


    They all turned to look at Nic. He felt their expectation settle on him uneasily. ¡°I think¡­ you should do what you think is best.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s totally going to tryhard it,¡± said Fanny.


    ¡°Totally,¡± agreed Davo. ¡°It¡¯s going to upset a lot of people.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Simole. ¡°And impress a few of them.¡± She gave Nic a pointed look.


    They went to the cafeteria for dinner and then to the library. Old exam papers were available from the librarian, and they had started doing them against the clock and then scoring each other. They didn¡¯t know what kind marks the examiners would give out but they could at least check for factual errors. Nic had failed to get a single answer wrong so far.


    Simole finished a Geography paper she was doing and rose from her chair. It hadn¡¯t been too difficult apart from one section on the Ghabri Desert, which she¡¯d never heard of. ¡°I¡¯m going to find a copy of Edwihn¡¯s Atlas,¡± she said.


    Fanny and Davo were too busy scribbling to hear her. ¡°Second floor, left side,¡± said Nic without looking up from his notes on Arcanum¡ªhe had finished twenty minutes ago. It was no more than she expected.


    She made her way up to the second floor and along the shelves on the left side.


    There had been a library in the castle where she had been raised, but nothing like this. A room full of books about Arcanum she had read a hundred times and grown bored of. There were a few works of fiction that had belonged to her mother. They at least gave her something to dream about. But the rest were so dry and dusty, she had grown to hate them.


    It was strange seeing how much Nic loved to read pages and pages of plain, dull text, how he devoured new ideas and information. He would even sneak around in the middle of the night just to spend a few more hours with his precious books.


    His desire to do well, to impress a certain girl, that made sense, but he took it to extremes, she felt. The fact he had taken the detector with him hadn¡¯t passed her by. He was looking for a particular kind of book, one that contained magic, obviously, but she didn¡¯t believe it was the power he was after. No, that would be far too normal. He wanted to read the words and make notes. He wanted to understand, not manipulate.


    She ran her eyes across the spines as she walked, unable to find the book she was searching for. Nic would have found it without looking. She wondered if he had found the book he was looking for last night. Probably not. If there were such books in the library, they were probably kept somewhere secure. He might be able to work out their rough location, but that wouldn¡¯t give him access to them.


    Her father wouldn¡¯t need a jerry-rigged detector, he would have smelled them out. The way Nic was drawn to books, her father was drawn to Arcanum. A mere glance and he¡¯d locate them, and then take them. A simple flick of his hand and any door was open to him.


    His ability to shape and reform the substance of magic was beyond parallel. There was only one thing he couldn¡¯t do with Arcanum, and that was protect himself. His defensive capabilities had weakened from over-exposure to Arcanum over the years. It was his only vulnerability, and why he had trained his daughter to become his personal bodyguard. It was knowledge of that weakness that enabled the King¡¯s forces to capture him.


    Simole finally found Edwihn¡¯s Atlas, and pulled it down off the shelf. It was heavy, but then it did contain the whole world within its pages.


    ¡°I know who you are,¡± said a voice behind her.


    Simole casually looked over her shoulder. ¡°Worked it out did you, Dizzy?¡± She enjoyed the look of irritation in those large, brown eyes. She was a pretty girl, but so stern it made it hard to tell.


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°I did.¡±


    ¡°Be careful who you tell. They¡¯ll whisk you away. Haven¡¯t seen much of the Prince lately. Have you?¡±


    She hadn¡¯t accused Prince Leovek of instigating the chaos caused by the dragons¡ªhe couldn¡¯t have known that would be the result of his little jape¡ªbut he hadn¡¯t been seen since.


    ¡°You can¡¯t scare me, van Dastan,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°My father wouldn¡¯t allow that to happen.¡±


    ¡°Your father will probably be the one to order it,¡± said Simole. ¡°It¡¯s his department, after all.¡±


    Dizzy was caught by surprise. ¡°You know who my father is?¡±


    ¡°Yes, Miss Delcroix. I know him well. Or as well as anyone can. He¡¯s a fussy man, isn¡¯t he? A perfectionist. Doesn¡¯t like loose ends lying about, isn¡¯t that right?¡±


    Dizzy¡¯s face darkened and her stern look got sterner. ¡°You don¡¯t have to worry, I wasn¡¯t going to tell anyone. But you have to leave.¡±


    ¡°You want me to drop out of school? But what about my education? How will I better myself?¡±


    ¡°Stay at the school if you want, I don¡¯t care about that. I want you to leave the Also-Rans. Live somewhere else on campus, I¡¯m sure with your connections that won¡¯t be too hard.¡±


    This time, it was Simole¡¯s turn to be taken by surprise. ¡°You want me to stay away from the Also-Rans? Or do you mean Nic? I think it¡¯s up to me who I choose to associate with.¡±


    Dizzy crossed her arms and stuck out her chin defiantly. ¡°You aren¡¯t good for him. He isn¡¯t like other people.¡±


    ¡°No argument from me, there.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯ll get caught up in whatever mayhem you bring down on yourself. I¡¯ve seen how you operate. You don¡¯t care about other people. You¡¯ll end up getting him hurt.¡±


    Simole tilted her head. It was a strange thing to be warned off by another girl. It was the sort of thing she¡¯d read in books, jealous tiffs between rivals. In real life, it felt ridiculous. ¡°So, you do have feelings for him after all. I told him you did.¡±


    Dizzy¡¯s composure melted. ¡°I do not have feelings for him. And what do you mean you told him? Told him what? There¡¯s nothing to tell.¡±


    Her protests were insistent. Too insistent.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, he didn¡¯t believe me. He thinks you hate him, a hundred percent pure loathing. You did a wonderful job of crushing his hopes and dreams. Your father taught you well, Miss Delcroix. You¡¯ll be a great asset to the family business.¡±


    Watching the girl become more and more infuriated was a pleasing sight.


    Dizzy flicked her head to the side like she heard someone coming. She took a step closer and hissed, ¡°Whatever ideas you¡¯ve got in your messed up head, you can forget it. He was my friend once, that¡¯s all, and I don¡¯t want to see him fall foul of someone like you.¡±


    ¡°Just some boy you want to protect, is he? Why is that?¡±


    Dizzy glared at her. ¡°I have my reasons, and they aren¡¯t what you think. Don¡¯t try to make it something it isn¡¯t. You¡¯re wrong,¡± she said emphatically, then she turned and walked away, head held high.


    ¡°Not wrong,¡± said Simole to herself. She grinned. ¡°Just statistically unlikely.¡±

 Chapter Twelve

    There was a sudden increase in workload. Lessons went from a steady flow of information and assignments, to a surge of books to read and informal tests held regularly. They weren¡¯t competitive tests to rank the students in order of ability¡ªeveryone was expected to get full marks.


    The teaching methods here were different from what Nic was used to. The teachers each had their own approach and personality, some were strict and aggressive, forcing knowledge into the students like corn down a goose¡¯s gullet, others were more relaxed and conversational, trying to instil a sense of wonder and excitement (which was quite ambitious when you were teaching Economic Analysis).


    However, the one thing they all had in common was how they approached testing. Nic noticed it first in Military History. In the middle of a long lecture, Mr Varity tended to pick on a student and ask them a question on what he¡¯d just been talking about. This would happen many times during a class.


    The student would stand when called on and answer. Nic could always tell if the student really understood what they were saying, or if they were just repeating it parrot fashion, and so could Mr Varity.


    To the casual observer, it would seem the students were chosen at random and it was just a way of reinforcing the information being conveyed.


    But when they had their tests, the questions would always be focused on the areas the students in class had the most difficulty with. Once he became aware of this, Nic began watching for this approach in the other teachers, and found it.


    They all canvassed the class in subtle ways and used this data to shape their testing.


    It meant, Nic surmised, that the school had a policy of using the lowest level of understanding as a limiting factor. He wasn¡¯t sure if this meant they were generously aiming to help the least able, or coldly targeting them.


    What was clear was that it made more work for the teachers. Rather than pick the apples at the top of the barrel, they pushed up from the bottom.


    The other thing the teachers had in common was that none of them ever asked their divining questions of the Also-Rans. If their understanding didn¡¯t match the least of their fellow students, they would be left to rot at the bottom of the barrel. Probably also school policy. Fortunately, the Also-Rans were far from the bottom.


    Nic observed closely whenever questions were asked, using his own extensive understanding of each subject to judge the students¡¯ responses. And from that, he was able to predict what any upcoming test would be on, down to the exact question.


    This made revising much more efficient. He would tell the others what they needed to know, specifically, and they would focus solely on that. At first, they were dubious about limiting their studies to such a narrow range, butwhen they faced those exact questions in the test, it quickly became apparent Nic somehow knew what to expect.


    He did try to explain how he was able to do this when they asked, but while the general idea was easy enough to grasp, when they tried to observe the teachers in action, neither their questions or the students¡¯ answers revealed anything to them. But they were happy to continue taking Nic¡¯s advice on faith.


    Nic didn¡¯t really need the advantage of knowing the questions in advance, but it did open his eyes to how the school operated. None of the students in the Upperclass were lacking when it came to academic ability¡ªthey wouldn¡¯t have been accepted if they were¡ªbut they weren¡¯t tested in a sink or swim approach. They were challenged to address their own weaknesses.


    If this was how teachers at Ransom had been taught to teach, it made Nic curious how the masters at the Royal College functioned. He had no interest in becoming a mage, but he¡¯d like to see how mages were trained.


    It was a facile thought. He would not be entering the Arts Course that Fanny was so keen to get into. He would use his time at Ransom to achieve a decent education and perhaps some distinction, and then get a good job, perhaps with Minister Delcroix, if the offer was still there.


    He would be able to afford a respectable standard of living, take care of his mother, and¡­ There was one area of his life he couldn¡¯t foresee, or at least resisted dwelling on. No matter how well off he might end up, he would still be the son of a maid. It didn¡¯t matter if he came first in the whole school, he would never be able to change that.


    It made him question his reasons for coming to Ransom in the first place. What had he hoped to get from Dizzy? Just friendship? It didn¡¯t really matter what she felt for him, it was impossible for her to reciprocate his feelings. He knew that, but he¡¯d come anyway. It was incredibly unfair of him to put her in such a position. Luckily, it posed no dilemma for her. She had made that abundantly clear.


    ¡°Mr Tutt,¡± called out Miss Daffly, ¡°you don¡¯t appear to have a detector. Why not?¡±


    Nic looked down at his hands like he was checking to see if she was right, even though he already knew she was.


    ¡°There weren¡¯t any left,¡± he said, once he¡¯d confirmed that he indeed did not have a herbal detector in his hands.


    The other students continued foraging for herbs with their clicking boxes. The wheelbarrow-like trolley that was supposed to contain one detector for each student was empty.


    The real reason he was detectorless was because the missing detector was in his room. He had been trying to fix it, but hadn¡¯t got very far. The inner workings of arcanum-related devices was not one of his areas of expertise, but he was confident he could figure it out, eventually. Just not by today¡¯s lesson. Even though Fanny had inadvertently taken it home with him, Nic had been responsible for breaking it, so it was only fair that he should be the one to go without.


    Miss Daffly walked across the field to the trolley and peered into it like she didn¡¯t believe him. She looked back at him, her eyes flicking up and down his body to make sure he didn¡¯t have the missing detector hidden about his person.


    ¡°Here.¡± She took off the detector hanging from her shoulder, her personal device that was far better than the school provided ones, and handed it to him. ¡°Don¡¯t break it.¡±


    He took it and hoped lightning wouldn¡¯t strike twice.


    Unlike most other lessons, Herbology consisted mainly of field trips and course work. There was no end of year exam and no mock test to bone up on, just finding herbs and catching them.


    This lesson¡¯s target was Herb Thyson. You had to listen for the right pattern of ticks and hums, and then slowly creep up on it before it saw you and ran away.


    ¡°That¡¯s not fair,¡± said Fanny. ¡°You¡¯ve got a better one than us.¡±


    Nic walked past him, bent over and strafing the grass ahead of him left and right. ¡°Shh. I think I hear one.¡±


    Everyone was spread out across the meadow near the east wall. The area had been left to grow wild and was near their cottage, so they could at least go home afterwards.


    Nic got down on his knees and listened intently. He shuffled along until he saw it, a tiny plant with a purple and yellow closed bud, crawling through the grass. Now he just had to entice it into his glass jar. He couldn¡¯t touch it without damaging it, but he knew a dozen capturing techniques. He¡¯d just never tried any of them before.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± said Simole, planting her own jar on top of the hapless herb. It jumped up to the base and Simole turned the jar over and put the lid on.


    Herb Thyson couldn¡¯t jump like that, he was sure. She had used some skill not available to the rest of them, but there was nothing wrong with that. Although he would have preferred she hadn¡¯t stolen his herb.


    She grinned at him, like she would only have stolen his herb.


    There was a splash and a distressed shout. Some boys appeared from over by the pond, the one next to the cottage. They looked pleased with themselves and suspicious. They glanced over at the students in the meadow, and hurried away. He didn¡¯t recognise any of them; they looked older.


    ¡°Twenty minutes left,¡± called out Miss Daffly, either not noticing the other boys or ignoring them. ¡°I expect a live specimen. Unbruised.¡±


    Nic couldn¡¯t stop looking over at the pond. He started walking towards it, waving the detector in front of him like he was looking for the elusive herb. He heard a choking gasp and ran.


    He broke through the shrubs and saw a body in the pond, a student, struggling to get to the edge, but unable to use his arms. He rolled onto his back to reveal a battered face. It was Mallory.


    Nic dropped the detector, cursing himself somewhere in the back of his mind for probably breaking it, and ran into the water. He grabbed Mallory¡¯s jacket and pulled. Mallory screamed.


    It became obvious why he¡¯d been having so much trouble getting out of a shallow pond. Both his arms were broken.


    Nic ignored the protesting cries and stumbled backwards with Mallory in tow. He felt the edge hit the back of his legs and then more hands were reaching to help pull Mallory ashore. Fanny and Davo were either side of him.


    They managed to get him onto land and dropped him on his back, weeping. His arms were unnaturally turned and angled.


    This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.¡°We should get a doctor,¡± said Davo.


    ¡°Is there one?¡± asked Fanny, and they realised they didn¡¯t know.


    ¡°There must be a nurse, at least,¡± said Davo. ¡°Mallory, where do we find the school nurse?¡±


    Mallory just whimpered.


    ¡°Secret boy¡¯s club?¡± asked Simole as she duckedunder the low branches to join them. She stopped when she saw Mallory. ¡°Who did that?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± said Nic. ¡°Some second years, I think.¡± He looked down at Mallory who was now shivering uncontrollably. He turned back to Simole. ¡°You said you knew attack and defence. Does that include healing?¡±


    Simole gave a noncommittal shrug. ¡°Some.¡±


    The three boys stared at her, not saying anything. Simole sighed and rolled her eyes. She handed her detector and the jar containing Herb Thyson to Fanny. ¡°Be careful with that, it¡¯s a female, guaranteed A.¡±


    She stepped closer to Mallory and took a deep breath. She didn¡¯t seem to do anything else, but around them, the vegetation began to wither; grass yellowed and leaves wilted. Mallory¡¯s limbs straightened and he gasped. Simole let out her breath and reached out towards Fanny.


    Fanny was too mesmerised to understand what she wanted, then realised and handed back her equipment.


    She lifted up the jar. All that was left of Herb Thyson was a shrivelled husk. ¡°Damn.¡±


    Mallory sat up, wheezing. He lifted and lowered his arms like he didn¡¯t know what they were. He looked up at Simole, his face unblemished. ¡°Thank you.¡±


    Simole shrugged.


    ¡°Why did they do that to you?¡± asked Nic.


    Mallory got to his feet, wiping tears from his eyes. He was soaking wet with water from his hair running down his face, so it didn¡¯t make much difference.


    ¡°A friendly warning,¡± said Mallory with a bitter smile. ¡°There¡¯s a master from the Royal College visiting. He¡¯s here to make preliminary cuts from the arts programme.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re on the Arts Course,¡± said Fanny, his voice rising excitedly.


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Mallory. ¡°It¡¯s a great honour, as you can see.¡±


    ¡°They wanted you to get kicked off the course?¡± asked Davo.


    It made sense. If someone had to be thrown out, why not an Also-Ran?


    ¡°No, if I¡¯m absent through illness¡ª¡± he snorted a humourless laugh ¡°¡ªI won¡¯t get kicked. But if I¡¯m not present for the master¡¯s appraisal, I can¡¯t be selected for prominence.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± asked Nic. He hadn¡¯t heard of that term, nor seen it in any book.


    ¡°The top three students get personal tuition from the master himself. It¡¯s a big advantage. This master specialises in prestidigitation. Hand movements and gestures.¡± He shook his hands like he was trying to get rid of the cold. ¡°Hard to impress a prestidigitator when you can¡¯t use your hands.¡± He squeezed them into fists and lowered them by his side. ¡°I have to go. Don¡¯t want to miss my chance at prominence.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re still going?¡± said Davo.


    ¡°Of course!¡± said Mallory. ¡°I can¡¯t waste an opportunity like this.¡± He looked at Simole and smiled with no trace of his customary bitterness. ¡°I¡¯d kiss you if I didn¡¯t think you¡¯d kill me for it.¡±


    ¡°Good call,¡± said Simole. Nic thought he caught a slight blush in her face, but he might have imagined it.


    Mallory rushed off, still sodden to his core.


    ¡°You might want to get changed before you catch a cold,¡± Davo called after him. ¡°Sneezing and magic don¡¯t mix.¡±


    Mallory waved a perfectly-functioning arm without looking back and ran towards the cottage.


    Davo turned to Simole. ¡°Or do they? I have no idea to be honest.¡±


    Simole walked off without answering.


    Nic picked up the dropped detector. It didn¡¯t look broken. He turned it on and it didn¡¯t make a sound, but then everything around them was dead.


    ¡°Do you think they¡¯ll do it to him again?¡± asked Fanny.


    ¡°Probably,¡± said Davo as they all followed Simole back. ¡°That¡¯s what you can expect if you get on the Arts Course. Good luck to you.¡±


    Fanny pursed his lips. ¡°At least it shows they saw him as a real threat. They only beat him up because they were scared of him.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t see how that¡¯s a positive thing,¡± said Davo.


    They returned to the class who were handing in their glass jars. None of the Also-Rans had a specimen to offer, not a living one. No mention was made of where they had disappeared to or why their trousers were wet.


    ¡°We¡¯re going to fail this class so hard,¡± moaned Fanny.


    It was the last class before lunch, so they had time to get changed themselves and then went to the cafeteria where their reserved table awaited them. They ate without speaking, brooding over what Ransom had in store for them.


    Davo was the first to break the silence. ¡°It makes even more sense not to stand out. You can see how they deal with a challenge to their birthright. If they see us as a threat, they will come for us like they did Mallory. And Simole won¡¯t always be there to save us. Nor should she.¡±


    Simole said nothing and continued eating.


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Nic. ¡°You¡¯re right.¡±


    Davo paused his fork mid-air, ¡°I am? I mean, you agree?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Nic. ¡°We shouldn¡¯t make it obvious we¡¯re so far ahead of them. The mocks aren¡¯t that important. I have a pretty good idea of how many students are capable of matching us in each class. If we each leave a single question blank per test, we¡¯ll still be in the top ten. And it¡¯s only the end of year exam we need to worry about.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± said Davo, eagerly. ¡°It¡¯ll be too late for them to do anything by then.¡±


    ¡°I suppose,¡± said Fanny. ¡°If you think so.¡±


    Simole tilted her head and narrowed her eyes, giving Nic an uncomfortable feeling. ¡°You sound like you¡¯re giving in. Or giving up.¡±


    Nic carried on eating without looking at her. ¡°I¡¯m just being careful.¡±


    Simole agreed with the plan, but he felt she disapproved.


    After lunch, they crossed the quad on their wayto an afternoon of Ad. Calc. when they saw Mallory coming towards them with a big smile on his face. The second year Upperclass building was on the far side of the quad and students were streaming out of it.


    ¡°Did you attain prominence?¡± asked Fanny.


    ¡°No.¡± He kept smiling.


    ¡°Then what are you so happy about?¡± asked Davo.


    ¡°Their faces when they saw me walk in.¡± He burst out laughing. ¡°And I clearly trounced them all.¡± He flexed his fingers. ¡°Better than new. The master was never going to give it to me, I could see it in his face, but everyone knew. They knew. See you later.¡± He walked away with a spring in his step and his grin filling up most of his face.


    ¡°I think I preferred him when he was old Misery Guts,¡± said Davo.


    There was a commotion as a man in a red robe walked into the quad followed by three students. The other second years applauded and the rest of the students stopped and joined in. Apart from four.


    There were enough people in the quad that four not participating wouldn¡¯t be noticed, but they were. The man in the robe stopped and looked directly at them. He said something to the students with him, and then changed direction.


    ¡°Why¡¯s he coming over here?¡± Fanny muttered under his breath.


    ¡°If we split up, he can¡¯t get us all,¡± Davo muttered back.


    ¡°But he¡¯ll get one of us alone,¡± said Fanny, alarmed.


    ¡°Your sacrifice won¡¯t be forgotten,¡± said Davo.


    None of them moved as the master from the Royal College drew closer, dragging an army of students along behind him.


    ¡°It¡¯s a great pleasure to meet you,¡± said the master to Simole and no one else.


    ¡°What do you want?¡± said Simole, provoking a gasp from the crowd that echoed off the quad walls.


    The master¡¯s pretence at geniality evaporated. ¡°Watch your mouth, child. I am Ferityn, master of the Royal College.¡± He said it grandly and with no sliver of doubt that it was enough to demand complete and utter respect.


    The silence was absolute.


    ¡°Okay,¡± said Simole. ¡°Anything else?¡±


    There was a sharp intake of breath. Nic wondered if it would be rude to step away from Simole. He didn¡¯t think it was wrong for someone to stand their ground, but he didn¡¯t necessarily want to be stood next to them when they did it.


    The mage¡¯s face turned grim. He raised his left hand and the students behind him stepped back as one.


    There was no fireball, no flash of lightning. Nic felt his knees buckle and then hit the ground. Then his face was kissing the turf. He couldn¡¯t move. It was probably the same thing Simole had done to Prince Leovek. Was it a deliberate copy to make a point?


    There was a shout. ¡°Hey, what do you think you¡¯re doing?¡± It was a voice Nic recognised, although he couldn¡¯t raise his head to see.


    ¡°Release these children at once,¡± demanded Mr Tenner.


    ¡°I will release them when I see fit, Tenner.¡±


    ¡°Master, please, this is a school.¡±


    ¡°And I am teaching them a lesson. Do not deem to lecture me.¡±


    With the greatest of effort, Nic was able to glance left. He saw Davo¡¯s head planted into the short grass. He couldn¡¯t see Fanny, but no doubt he was on Davo¡¯s other side in the same position. Very slowly, Nic shifted his gaze to the right. Simole was bowed beside him. So even she was under the mage¡¯s power.


    The pupil in her white eye swivelled to meet his. She winked.


    Nic felt the pressure holding him down, lift. He could move but he stayed as he was. He sensed Simole move and turned his head. She was sitting up. He did the same.


    Mr Tenner was still respectfully insisting the master release his hold on them. He had his back to them so didn¡¯t know they were already free. He was also blocking Ferityn¡¯s view.


    Davo and Fanny also sat up and waited, looking past Nic at Simole. She didn¡¯t seem to be angry or about to do anything. She just sat there, listening to the men arguing.


    ¡°I completely accept that, Master, but they are children under the protection¡ª¡± Tenner had turned to point at them and only then realised they were sitting up. He looked confused.


    The mage looked surprised, and then deeply offended. He raised his hand again. There was a sharp crack and he grunted as his wrist went limp. It hung useless. His eyes widened and then tightened into dark holes of rage. He lifted the other hand and another crack left it in the same condition. Simole hadn¡¯t moved.


    ¡°You think I need hands to deal with you?¡± roared the mage. ¡°Ferity¡ª¡±


    Whatever he was going to say, he failed to get it out before his teeth exploded. They shattered in his mouth, spraying a cloud of white ivory dust.


    His head jerked back and the students behind him screamed and pushed into each other to back away.


    Simole stood up. ¡°Hand gestures and spoken spells will be your undoing, Ferityn.¡± She spoke calmly, without rancour.


    Ferityn tried to hold his hands to his bleeding gums, but they flopped about. Still,the mage did not look ready to give up.


    ¡°Feshi¡­ Farrr¡­¡± He struggled to speak without teeth, but would not stop trying. ¡°Feridee¡­¡±


    The students watched, horrified. A shimmer in their midst turned into Secret Service agents. With Prince Leovek gone, Nic had not thought to see them again, but there were other, not quite so important people to protect. Some from themselves. They closed around the crippled mage.


    ¡°Shheize her,¡± cried out Ferityn when he saw them. It was the same as the Prince had tried, and no more successfully. Powerful people stripped of their power were a sorry sight, Nic realised.


    ¡°We cannot, Master,¡± said the red-masked agent. ¡°Let us get your injuries seen to.¡±


    He drew back as they tried to approach him. They were being respectful, but he was not in the mood to be reasonable. ¡°She appacked a mashter ob da Woy¡­¡± The effort was too great and too painful.


    ¡°She is under the King¡¯s protection,¡± the agent said gently.


    ¡°The law!¡± screamed the mage, spitting flecks of blood. ¡°Mobody ish abub da law.¡±


    He was surrounded by agents now. They tried to turn him, but he struggled away from them.


    ¡°Master of Arcanum, you may be,¡± said Mr Tenner, ¡°but not of politics. There are many who are above the law, and she is one of them. You, however, are not.¡± He was quite stern now, his earlier demeanour gone. ¡°You endangered the lives of many children today, and you will be held accountable. Now yield to these men.¡±


    The light of anger faded from the mage¡¯s eyes and he seemed to go limp. The agents quickly led him away.


    Nic watched it all from his knees, but the raging mage was not what he had seen. Among the wall of students, fearful and confused, he had seen a single figure. Dizzy. She was standing with all the others, watching, but either side of her was a tall, male student. They weren¡¯t just near her, it was like they were standing guard over her. He recognised them both. He had seen them leaving the pond just before he found Mallory.


    A dreadful chill ran through him. All this time he had been consumed by the idea that no matter what he achieved, how high he rose, he would never be able to reach her. He would never be good enough in her eyes or anyone else¡¯s. But now a far more distressing reality occurred to him. What if it was she who was not good enough for him?


    It was such a sorrowful thought he couldn¡¯t bear to think it. He got to his feet and walked away. He had to go to the library and study. There were exams to prepare for. He had no time to waste on distractions, not if he intended to come first. And he did. He intended to rise so far above them all, he would never be within their reach. Any of them.

 Chapter Thirteen

    Nic began studying in earnest. He didn¡¯t want to dwell on the other aspects of life at Ransom, no matter how persistently distractions tried to get into his field of view. When he was immersed in a book, no other thoughts could reach him, and that was perfect.


    If the others noticed a change in him, they didn¡¯t mention it. They trusted in his ability to organise them in the most efficient manner, and followed his lead. It was a struggle to keep up, but they had already become much better students since arriving at Ransom thanks to him, so it seemed like a natural, if exhausting, progression.


    Every day, after lessons, they convened at the library. Their regular table would be waiting for them and Nic would write an extensive list of subjects they needed to cover. Sometimes it would be something they had been taught in class but not to Nic¡¯s satisfaction. Other times it was completely new and seemingly unrelated, but they didn¡¯t question his choices.


    They would work all evening and then, one by one, head back to the cottage, always leaving Nic on his own, the last man standing.


    Occasionally, Nic caught them giving each other concerned glances but he didn¡¯t have time to deal with their worries. He had too much to do.


    ¡°I thought you might enjoy this,¡± said the librarian one evening when there was no one left in the library. She was holding a book for him to take. A very old book with a plain cover. Unlike most of the books in the library, it wasn¡¯t bound in leather and didn¡¯t have a fancy title embossed in gold. In fact, it didn¡¯t have a title at all.


    Nic took it from her. When he opened it, he found no title on the inside, either. ¡°What is it?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s the autobiography of Winnum Roke.¡±


    Nic frowned. ¡°I¡¯ve read it.¡± He¡¯d found a copy in the Librarium, although it didn¡¯t look like this.


    ¡°This is the¡­ ¡®unabridged¡¯ version. It¡¯s the only copy I know of, so I don¡¯t think you have, in fact, read it.¡±


    Winnum Roke, the first female Archmage, had been an Also-Ran. Her autobiography had been very interesting as a historical record of what life was like a thousand years ago, but not particularly relevant to the upcoming mock exams.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think it¡¯s on the syllabus,¡± he said, offering the book back.


    The librarian fixed him with an acute stare over her glasses and he slowly withdrew the offer.


    ¡°Sometimes, a problem is best solved by approaching it from a new direction. You can leave it in Mr Tenner¡¯s room when you¡¯re done reading it.¡± She scooped up a number of books from the table¡ªsomehow, she knew which ones he no longer needed, and walked away.


    Nic read the first few pages of the autobiography. It didn¡¯t seem very different to the one he¡¯d read before. At first. Then he began noticing details he hadn¡¯t spotted before. Very personal details about her family life. And it was a lot more specific about her schooldays.


    Before he realised it, he was deep into the book, his studies forgotten. The rest of the library was dark and empty, but he sat under the single lamp still burning, reading through the night. He began to understand that Ransom was never going to accept him if he continued on the path he was on.


    Even though he read the entire volume in one sitting, he wanted to keep the book close by for reference. He had quickly developed a fondness for both Archmage Roke and for the book itself, with its modest, unassuming appearance.


    He had explored the library thoroughly and never seen the book on any shelf, so it was probably kept somewhere safe and out of the way. Probably with other books of a similar ¡®unabridged¡¯ nature.


    Winnum Roke had primarily been a demonologist, and while she had written well known texts on the subject, there were some unusual references to it in her biography that Nic had never come across before. Her enthusiasm for the other dimension and its denizens had started at a very young age.


    It reminded Nic of Mr Tenner¡¯s devotion to what was, for most people, an archaic subject.


    He took it up to Mr Tenner¡¯s room, as the librarian had suggested, and left it on a corner table, under some other books.


    It was very late, and he had meant to drop off the Roke book and go home, but he found himself examining Tenner¡¯s research material. There were reams of notes in small, neat handwriting, and many tomes lying around. On Demonology, Arcanum and a book of fairytales that seemed completely out of place. Wink Munroe¡¯s Tales of Myth and Legend. It was a book about monsters and brave mages. Nic sat down and read it from cover to cover.


    Pretty soon he was going from one book to the next. As he read through the notes and cross-referenced them with the books piled on the table, a pattern began to emerge. Mr Tenner was looking for something. Something very specific. Nic only noticed because Winnum Roke had spent much of her life looking for the same thing. And found it.


    At the bottom of Mr Tenner¡¯s notes, Nic wrote ¡®Dana-Long¡¯ and underlined it. He locked up the room and left the library.


    The next day, in Military History, Nic sat at the back as usual as Mr Varity lectured them on the dangers of overextending on a superior position.


    ¡°The balance between secure defence and an overwhelming offence is a thin one. Colonel Brattniz snatched defeat from the jaws of victory by showing a lack of patience. It is a common occurrence among great military minds to believe fate or destiny or supernatural forces are supporting their right to achieve greatness. However, it is the men on the ground who decide battles, not the hopes and dreams of old men. Who can give me another example of hubris from the Battle of Kelemy? Mr Cheesul?¡±


    A boy near the front nervously rose to his feet. Just by his reluctant body language, Nic could tell Cheesul, a thin, blond boy who toadied around after the bigger boys, was not confident in his knowledge of the battles of the pre-Arcanum period.


    ¡°The Rout of Groff?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Mr Varity, sounding surprised. ¡°You are correct. Well done.¡±


    A complete guess. Technically it was right in so far as it involved an act of overconfidence on the part of a Ranvarian officer, but it was more incompetence than hubris. It was the most famous battle of the period and Nic was sure Cheesul had plucked the answer from thin air without any knowledge of what had happened in one of Ranvar¡¯s most shameful disasters.


    Nic was also sure Mr Varity could tell his student didn¡¯t know the details. A follow up question or two would make that only too apparent. But Mr Varity turned away to move onto the next part of his lecture.


    ¡°The Rout of Groff was an act of insubordination,¡± said Nic, ¡°due to the acting commander deciding to sacrifice his front line troops so he could retreat to safety.¡±


    The class was silent. They were unused to Nic or any of the other Also-Rans speaking in class. Their wariness of Simole led to them acting like none of the four existed, and the teachers seemed to encourage such behaviour.


    ¡°You don¡¯t think it counts as poor judgement on behalf of a military leader?¡± asked Mr Varity.


    ¡°I think there are better examples. The Battle of Ranvar Falls, when General Montfrey simultaneously attacked twelve different settlements along the Great Ranvar River. Or the Charge of Sacksonomy. That¡¯s S-A-C-K-S not S-A-X.¡±


    There was a pause, and then a sudden burst of scribbling as the rest of the class took notes. Davo was the only one not writing down Nic¡¯s words. He watched closely, wondering what was going on.


    ¡°Thank you, Mr Tutt. That¡¯s a very comprehensive answer. With correct spelling. Let¡¯s consider the Battle of Ranvar Falls, first.¡±


    The lesson continued and Nic offered further details as and when required, even if it wasn¡¯t asked of him. Whenever a question was posited and not answered in the fullest possible manner, Nic stepped in to expand and fortify the student¡¯s unsatisfactory response.


    By the end of the lesson, Nic had spoken almost as much as Mr Varity. As they left the classroom, Davo walked up beside Nic and said, ¡°Do you know what you¡¯re doing?¡±


    ¡°I think so,¡± said Nic.


    Nic did the same in the other classes. He was a mine of information on all manner of subjects, and he was in a sharing mood. It didn¡¯t matter who was asked to contribute their thoughts, if they failed to provide a full and rounded answer, Nic intervened to fill in the gaps.


    By lunchtime, Davo was fuming. He banged his tray down next to Nic¡¯s and took his seat with much huffing and exasperating.


    ¡°This won¡¯t do. It just won¡¯t.¡± He picked up a fork, violently stabbed an innocent sausage, and then tossed it back onto the plate. ¡°I thought we agreed to not attract undue attention until the end of year exams. I suppose you intend to come first in the mocks, too. Just to ruffle the maximum amount of feathers.¡±The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°But why?¡± exploded Davo, slamming his fist on the table. The eyes surrounding them tried desperately not to look in their direction. The threat of Simole was too great for them to risk peeking.


    ¡°Keeping a low profile isn¡¯t going to work,¡± said Nic. ¡°You saw what they did to Mallory. The master from the Royal College didn¡¯t even pick him¡ªhe never would have and they all knew it¡ªbut they still broke his arms. That¡¯s how they operate, here. It¡¯s how they¡¯ve always operated. They¡¯re happy to compete against each other, but it¡¯s an affront to even let us on the playing field. They¡¯ll come after us no matter what.¡±


    ¡°And how does showing off in class make things any better?¡± asked Davo. ¡°You want to speed the whole thing up? Make our demise more efficient?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Nic. ¡°Plus, the fewer of them there are, the harder it will be for them to surround us. That¡¯s their preferred mode of attack, outnumber and outmanoeuvre. It¡¯s a weak tactic and easily exploited.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean, fewer?¡± said Fanny. ¡°Why will there be fewer?¡±


    ¡°If they can¡¯t keep up with the pace, they¡¯ll be forced to leave the Upperclass. So I¡¯m going to be the pacesetter.¡±


    Davo¡¯s outrage dissipated. ¡°You really think that¡¯ll work?¡±


    ¡°It has before,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°Well, okay,¡± said Davo begrudgingly. ¡°I just hope they don¡¯t jump us when we¡¯re out alone and try to pass it off as some accident. It¡¯s all very well out-thinking them, but it¡¯s hard to outsmart a punch in the face.¡±


    ¡°They won¡¯t do anything. They¡¯re too scared of Simole.¡±


    ¡°And that¡¯s fine with you, is it?¡± said Davo, getting the hump again. ¡°Happy to let a girl fight your battles for you?¡±


    Simole didn¡¯t say anything, quietly watching and eating.


    ¡°She won¡¯t have to fight anyone,¡± said Nic. ¡°Apart from those she wants to, of course. As long as she has them trembling in their boots, it would be a waste to not use their fear against them. And in answer to your question, yes, I¡¯m more than happy to let a girl fight in my place. I¡¯ll gladly stay at home and bake a cake for the victory party. I can make a pineapple upside down cake that is considered quite respectable.¡±


    ¡°Oh, really?¡± said Fanny. ¡°Can I try some? Wait, have you actually made it, or just read how to make it in a book?¡±


    ¡°You have a lot of anger in you, don¡¯t you?¡± said Simole.


    ¡°Me?¡± said Nic, as calm as ever. ¡°I don¡¯t think so. Do I look angry? I¡¯m offering to make cake.¡±


    Simole smiled. ¡°It¡¯s nothing to worry about. Angry men tend to get things done. Believe me, I know.¡± She carried on eating.


    Nic¡¯s proactive stance to student behaviour not only continued, it escalated. Nobody got away with a less than complete answer to anything. The teachers became quite confused and tried to restrict Nic to shorter interruptions, but it was hard to open up the floor to questions and then cut off someone providing very good answers. Especially when he could do it so concisely.


    At the end of the first week, when there were a spate of tests as usual, the effects of Nic¡¯s new approach became more than apparent.


    Nic had determined how the teachers prepared their testing, and had systematically undermined them. He made sure the students had the answers to any and all questions of a basic nature, complete with correct spelling.


    Without their finely tuned methods of assessing their students¡¯ needs, the teachers were left to ask broader questions that required a proper understanding of the subject. Of course, they could have just asked the simpler questions everyone already knew the answers to, but that wasn¡¯t the Ransom way.


    When the results came back, not only had the overall average fallen across all subjects, some people had actually failed. Which also wasn¡¯t the Ransom way. With Nic offering so much help in class, his was the last direction the students were looking for someone to blame. He planned to be even more helpful during the run up to the mocks.


    The only teacher to take it all in stride was Mr Tenner. Once Nic offered up his superior knowledge on Arcanum, Mr Tenner began picking on him exclusively. Every question was asked of him specifically, and then further elaborations requested. Until the two of them would be discussing matters so esoteric, no one had any idea what they were talking about.


    Since Arcanum was viewed with such low regards, no one really cared and let them get on with it. The questions in the tests were unaffected. Mr Tenner already gave his students all the answers they needed.


    ¡°And you don¡¯t find the unsubstantiated claims of where Arcanum came from to be of issue, Mr Tutt?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think they¡¯re unsubstantiated, sir. I think we have records and literature to back up the existence of Arcanum transference through dimensional doorways,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°We do?¡± said Mr Tenner, mildly surprised. ¡°I wasn¡¯t aware. Perhaps you could tell me the name of one of these corroborating texts?¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir. Wink Munroe¡¯s Tales of Myth and Legend.¡±


    Tenner smiled. ¡°Fairytales? Of course there is much to learn from our ancient myths and stories, but do you really think stories written to frighten children are based on fact?¡±


    There was a small amount of tittering in the class, from those still paying attention.


    ¡°Yes, sir. Like the story of the Dana-Long.¡±


    ¡°I see,¡± said Tenner. ¡°Yes, I recall the name. A monster that exists in both dimensions. And likes to eat babies who aren¡¯t good. It¡¯s amazing most of you here survived with such a creature out on the prowl.¡±


    ¡°He didn¡¯t eat them, they passed through him. He was a sort of a doorway.¡±


    Mr Tenner stopped smiling and stood up straighter. ¡°Is that so? A human door?¡±


    ¡°No, sir. I don¡¯t think he was human. I believe he was an animal, accidentally transformed. That¡¯s why he was never able to use the power he obtained. He was just someone¡¯s beloved pet, trying to get home.¡±


    ¡°I see, I see. A mage¡¯s pet used in an experiment, is that what you¡¯re suggesting?¡±


    ¡°Perhaps,¡± said Nic. ¡°Or a young person with an affinity for Arcanum they couldn¡¯t control. There are records of such people.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Tenner, ¡°there are.¡± He seemed to be looking past Nic, into the distance.


    He was still staring off when the bell rang. Mr Tenner dismissed the students who slowly got to their feet.


    ¡°Ah, Mr Tutt, if I may?¡±


    Nic approached the desk in the corner of the room as requested. ¡°Sir?¡±


    Tenner sat sucking on his lips and looking around the desktop like he¡¯d lost something. He looked up and acted like he was surprised to see Nic there.


    ¡°Ah, it¡¯s you. Quite the reputation you¡¯ve established for yourself, young Mr Tutt. And impressively quickly.¡±


    Nic wasn¡¯t sure if he was meant to say thank you or sorry, so he said nothing.


    ¡°The teachers are all talking about your proclivity for participating fully in lessons. Some of them are quite tired out by being so thoroughly engaged.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to be tiresome, sir.¡±


    ¡°Didn¡¯t you. No, I suppose you had bigger plans than that. I must say, it¡¯s quite a daring strategy to take. Are you sure it¡¯s wise to be so confrontational? The school is quite big and set in its ways. Difficult for a single boy to take it on, alone.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not alone, sir,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°No, you¡¯re not. To be honest with you, Nic, it¡¯s only because of that girl that you¡¯ve been left alone to terrorise the faculty. Perhaps you might consider asking her to not use her powers so openly. It¡¯s only a matter of time before people work out her identity.¡±


    From the look Tenner gave him, Nic had no doubt he knew who Simole¡¯s father was. All the teachers probably did.


    ¡°It¡¯s not like she goes looking for trouble. It comes looking for her. I still don¡¯t understand why a mage of the Royal College would attack her like that. He must have known who she was and whose protection she¡¯s under.¡±


    ¡°Yes, I suspect he was under orders to teach her a lesson. Unfortunately for him, he underestimated her abilities. A lesson for us all.¡±


    ¡°Who would order him to challenge her like that?¡± asked Nic.


    ¡°That, I do not know. But you have to understand there are interests at work here who have a great advantage over you. Your plans to raise your position within the school are going to meet with more resistance than you imagine. You may feel you have the measure of your opponent, but believe me, you don¡¯t.¡±


    Nic was surprised both by the nature of the admission and the fact he was being told it. ¡°I don¡¯t?¡±


    ¡°All the classes you and you friends have been assigned to are the ones containing the students of the lowest ability.


    Nic was shocked by this news. ¡°But I thought¡­¡±


    ¡°That students were only split into streams after the mocks? Yes, that¡¯s the official line, but not the case in fact. There are people, parents, who insist their children are allowed entry to the Upperclass when they really aren¡¯t suited to it, shall we say. Once exam results show this to be so, they can be quietly released under various pretences and excuses. It¡¯s done to avoid embarrassment.¡±


    ¡°And we were put in with them?¡± A coldness ran through Nic. He had been marked for removal from the beginning.


    ¡°With your test scores, it was probably deemed unadvisable to let you flourish under the best Ransom has to offer. You may think you are well ahead of the general student population, but I¡¯m afraid that is not the case. The other classes are already well advanced in all areas and in all subjects.¡±


    It suddenly became clear why he was in none of Dizzy¡¯s classes. He was being prepared for ejection so there was no point wasting resources on the likes of him. He wondered how far behind he was.


    ¡°I leave it to your discretion, how you wish to proceed, but I certainly wish you good luck. If ever I met a student worthy of a place at this wretched school, it would be you, Nic. Which brings me to another thing I wanted to talk to you about. I¡¯ve been very busy lately, but just the other day I popped into the library to do a little research and found a note left for me. ¡®Dana-Long¡¯, as I¡¯m sure you know.¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir. Sorry, I was reading some of your research and it seemed relevant.¡±


    ¡°While I find the mentions of various demonic beings in our folklore to be fascinating, I can¡¯t say I see a direct connection, but you seemed to think otherwise. Perhaps you could elaborate.¡±


    ¡°I was just looking over the books you had collected in your private room, and I couldn¡¯t help but see the pattern.¡±


    ¡°The pattern?¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir. At first I thought you were looking for a key. A way to open up a passage to the other dimension. Personally, I don¡¯t think there is a key.¡±


    Tenner raised an eyebrow. ¡°A colleague of mine thinks similarly. Go on.¡±


    ¡°But then I realised it was a door you were seeking. The entrance. Which is why I thought of the Dana-Long. It was Winnum Roke who first wrote about the absorption of a person into their shadow, creating a shade.¡±


    Tenner looked confused. ¡°Archmage Roke? How does she figure into this theory of yours?¡±


    ¡°It isn¡¯t a theory, sir. And it isn¡¯t mine. She wrote about it in her autobiography. When she was young she had a dog called Dana. She accidentally split the dog from its shadow, and then the shadow consumed the dog, making it bigger. Longer. She called it Dana-Long.¡±


    ¡°How old was she?¡±


    ¡°Three, I think. The shade disappeared and she spent most of her life looking for it. Somewhere along the way she became Archmage. She made a record of most of her discoveries in the Tales of Myth and Legend.


    Tenner shook his head like he¡¯d been splashed with water. ¡°You think she wrote down her work disguised as children¡¯s bedtime stories?¡±


    ¡°Wink Munroe, sir. It¡¯s an anagram of Winnum Roke.¡±


    Tenner stood up so quickly his chair fell over. ¡°Mr Tutt, I want you to come with me.¡±


    ¡°Er, I have Ad. Calc., sir.¡±


    ¡°Ah, yes, of course. Very well, after school. I want to show you something in my research facility.¡±


    ¡°The Pagoda?¡±


    Tenner frowned. ¡°I know the students call it that, but really, it looks nothing like a pagoda.¡±


    ¡°Oh, yes, sorry, sir.¡± It did look a bit like a pagoda, but Nic wasn¡¯t going to quibble. He was going to get a look inside. He had absolutely no idea what to expect but he felt thrilled by the idea. And maybe a little scared.


    ¡°Don¡¯t dawdle, now. Straight after lessons. There¡¯s someone I want you to meet.¡±

 Chapter Fourteen

    Minister Delcroix sat at his desk, reading the most recent reports to have been filed on the incident at the Ransom School. Only one of the files was written under the official letterhead of the Ministry of Instruction, his own department. The others were from various departments he had no official connection to, but numerous unofficial ones.


    It wasn¡¯t like he didn¡¯t have enough matters to attend to regarding foreign powers and their attempts to influence the Royal Court. He had a list of people who needed to be investigated. Bribes. Blackmail. Suspect sympathies.


    Ranvar was far too powerful an entity to take on directly. None of her neighbours would dare a conventional attack, but they frequently attempted something more insipid, if allowed.


    It was his job to not allow it. Would that they accepted their place under Ranvarian rule, but they would not. No one would, of course. It was human nature to try to break free of shackles and yokes, even comfortable ones, but they were a long way from achieving their freedom. The leash was long enough to allow them their machinations and plotting, and short enough to bring them to heel if they ever came close to posing an actual threat.


    He held up a report from the Ministry for the Interior. Primarily a bureau for the protection and maintenance of state resources, which tangentially included schools, although the current minister seemed to have an obsession with the declining number of trees in Ranvar. He was constantly lobbying for the annexing of regions containing forests. Rather a flimsy excuse for war.


    The report was on the latest incident at the Ransom School¡ªwhich were becoming something of a regular event. The Ministry¡¯s report was difficult to read due to the excessively small writing, probably in an effort to save on paper and thus prolong the life of a tree somewhere on Ranvarian soil. Delcroix took out his seldom used glasses and put them on. At least, it used to be seldom.


    He was getting older, there was no denying it. Arcanum could accomplish many things, but immunity from old age was not one of them. Delcroix had been a Minister for seven years, ever since the untimely demise of his predecessor. It was something of a departmental tradition for all outgoing ministers to do so in untimely fashion. He hoped to buck the trend.


    He read the report, looking for discrepancies. There didn¡¯t appear to be any. Blame was placed squarely on the shoulders of Master Ferityn, the mage from the Royal College who had inexplicably attacked a Ransom student. And lost.


    But his defeat at the hands of a child was not the most remarkable feature of the incident. It had been his disregard for the very clear instructions sent out to all staff and faculty operating at the school to leave this particular student alone.


    Schools didn¡¯t come under the purview of the Ministry of Instruction, not directly, but there was no mistaking the signs that the mage had been under the influence of someone wishing to provoke the van Dastan girl.


    A foreign agency? It was hard to tell and difficult to ask the man himself. The experience had left him shattered and unable to do much else apart from ramble incoherently.


    There were other candidates, not least of which the young prince she had humiliated. Prince Leovek was well down the pecking order and his powers were limited, but that didn¡¯t mean he wasn¡¯t somehow involved. Lack of evidence did not mean the absence of guilt. Still, it would come as a great surprise if he¡¯d managed to convince even a second grade mage like Ferityn to challenge a direct edict from the Royal Court. Surprising, but not impossible.


    If it had been a petty act of revenge, Leovek¡¯s position would save him from public humiliation, but in private he would be severely punished.


    Delcroix took off the glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. The school had become a lightning rod for controversy of late. Young minds were ideal for shaping, which was why the best of them were gathered in one place and guarded jealously. What Ranvar could do with them at this impressionable stage of their lives, others could do also, given the chance. Children were a resource far more important than trees.


    His own daughter attended Ransom, and did so with great aplomb. She was a special child, and not just because she was his offspring. She had always been remarkable. Determined, driven, ambitious. He smiled to himself thinking of her. He tended to keep his distance, curious to see how far she could get without his assistance. He held great affection for her, but restrained himself from pursuing his fatherly urges. If she was to truly reach her potential, she would need space to do it. He was ready to step in if she fell, but so far she hadn¡¯t faltered even once.


    Happily, her name hadn¡¯t appeared in any of the reports. Whatever was going on at Ransom, his daughter was not involved. The Tutt boy, however, was a constant in all of them.


    Which was hardly unexpected. He was linked to the van Dastan girl purely by dint of being enrolled at the same time as her, so obviously would be present during these incidents.


    There had definitely been something special about him, also, and it would be a shame if he somehow got embroiled in these unnecessary altercations. The Secret Service needed to be much more preemptive in their duties. A strongly worded note to the Chief of Staff would seem appropriate.


    He reached for the pen usually found in his top pocket, and grabbed at air. He had been doing this repeatedly recently. He kept reminding himself he had given the pen away as a gift, to the boy he was just thinking about, in fact, and then he would forget all over again. Old age.


    He picked up the bell on his desk and rang it. The door on the other side of the office opened before the last chime had a chance to fade and a tall, thin man came in, spun around to close the door, and then continued to turn until he was facing the Minister¡¯s desk once more.


    ¡°You have an appointment. The Crown Princess has invited you to her latest garden party. I believe this one is for the Farmer¡¯s Association.¡± He spoke in a crisp, lilting tone that carried the remnants of a southern accent thoroughly whipped into submission, but still peeking defiantly.


    ¡°A garden party in winter?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not quite winter yet, Minister. I believe it¡¯s a themed party, to celebrate the harvest. A bumper year.¡±


    It was not an invitation that he particularly wanted to accept. Farmers, although a vital part of Ranvar¡¯s economy, were not big players on the international stage, and garden parties yielded little in the way of actionable intelligence. But the Crown Princess had taken to inviting all the ministers to her luncheons and soir¨¦es.


    She was very beautiful and very charming. The kind of woman men had great difficulty saying no to, and a great desire to please. She had qualities he admired but did not value. His own wife was of a completely different type. Her abiding quality was that she could be relied upon, unreservedly. In his line of work, that was far more attractive.


    ¡°It starts in twenty minutes.¡±


    ¡°Twenty minutes? Aren¡¯t you supposed to inform me of these things in advance?¡±


    ¡°Yes, Minister. I believe twenty minutes is fair warning. Any longer and you¡¯d be liable to forget.¡±


    ¡°Are you suggesting I¡¯m losing my powers of recall, Stodar?¡±


    ¡°No, sir. Senility has yet to claim you. Overburdening yourself with too many obligations concurrently is your greatest enemy, and one that would no doubt claim you as its victim, were it not for myself, standing at the gates like a warrior demon.¡±


    ¡°I see,¡± said Delcroix. His secretary was prone to speaking with rather more familiarity than expected of one in his position, but then he too carried the mantle of absolute reliability, and used it to get away with thinly veiled impertinence. Very thinly. ¡°Stodar, I seem to have misplaced my pen.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Minister. I believe you gave it away, to a boy.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ve spoken about this already?¡±


    ¡°We have. You don¡¯t recall?¡±


    ¡°I recall I asked you to get me a replacement.¡± He didn¡¯t, in fact, recall but it seemed like what he would have asked.


    ¡°You did. It arrived this morning.¡± Stodar took out a pen from his breast pocket and put it on the desk.


    Delcroix picked it up. ¡°If it arrived this morning, why didn¡¯t you give it to me?¡±


    ¡°I think you¡¯ll find I did.¡±


    Since he was holding the pen, it was a hard point to argue. The pen was reassuringly heavy and gave off a faint buzz of latent Arcanum. ¡°It¡¯s built to the same specifications?¡±


    ¡°It is. It would have taken another week, but I threw my weight around. Actually, I threw your weight around. The Master at Arms may behave somewhat anxiously around you next time you see him. I mean, more than normal.¡±


    ¡°Did you threaten him?¡±


    ¡°Not personally, no.¡±


    He put the pen in his pocket where it immediately felt correct, unable to recall what he had wanted to do with it. He really needed to start writing things down. Which reminded him of the note to the head of the Secret Service.


    ¡°You have fifteen minutes,¡± said Stodar.


    The note could wait. He rose from the desk. ¡°Send for a carriage.¡±


    Stodar nodded and left. Delcroix turned around and went to the door on the far side of the room, discreetly set into the corner. He opened it and entered the dressing room he used when his duties prevented him from leaving work. There was a rail with identical shirts, jackets and trousers to the ones he had on. There were also some uniforms for official engagements. He did not have one for garden parties, themed or otherwise.


    There was also another door that led to a bathroom. He went in to freshen up. He was known for his dark demeanour and harsh look, which often proved useful, but it would only attract attention if he attended a civic event dressed like an executioner.


    He washed his face and hands. He looked in the mirror over the sink. Gray hairs slowly turning white. There was a movement behind him.


    ¡°You have something to report?¡±


    ¡°Yes, Master,¡± said a whisper from the shadowy corner, barely audible over the burble of tap water. ¡°The uprising in Gweur has dissipated.¡±


    ¡°Dissipated? They¡¯ve disbanded?¡± He had expected the calls for change to lessen once their figurehead was removed, but a complete abandonment of the movement this quickly was unexpected.


    ¡°The leaders of the movement have disappeared.¡±


    Delcroix dried himself off with a towel. He could use a little colour, something to break up the monotony of black and white. He returned to the dressing room. ¡°How can they have disappeared? Didn¡¯t you track them?¡±


    ¡°Unable to,¡± said the voice from somewhere behind his jackets. ¡°Crude Arcanum was used.¡±


    Delcroix stopped looking through the drawers for a handkerchief or pair of cufflinks that might be hiding in there. Crude Arcanum? A volatile and unwieldy material that wasn¡¯t very good for much, apart from obfuscation. It did a wonderful job of flooding an area with so much background radiation that tracking a particular signal became almost impossible. Was this a deliberate act, or just the best they could do?


    If the demon had passed on some kind of ability to her followers in Gweur, they would have to be stopped before they learned how to refine and develop their powers. It wasn¡¯t so far fetched. The first Ranvarian mages had gained access to magic from a demon.


    ¡°Increase the number of Instructors in the field and find them. I want to know where they went and what they¡¯re doing.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Master.¡± His shirts rippled as though from a strong draft, and he was alone again.


    He opened the last draw and next to a neat stack of white underpants was a small, gift-wrapped box. He picked it up.


    To Papa,Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.


    From your most important daughter.


    He vaguely remembered it¡ªa present for his birthday? Not a recent one, he was sure. Judging by the handwriting, which was that of a young child, it had been sitting there, waiting to be opened, for several years. He couldn¡¯t blame encroaching senility for this, it was from when his faculties were at their peak. Perhaps as far back as when he was first promoted to Minister.


    From your most important daughter.


    He smiled. She was his only child. The statement was instructive rather than comparative.


    He opened hergift, belatedly. Inside was a neck tie. A bright red one made of silk and very wide, a fashion no longer worn. It didn¡¯t matter, he would honour his daughter even if she wasn¡¯t here to witness his appreciation.


    ¡°Your carriage awaits,¡± said Stodar when Minister Delcroix returned to his office, the bright red tie adorning his chest. There was a flicker of something across Stodar¡¯s brow, but he kept his sartorial views to himself.


    Delcroix took out the pen to quickly write a note, but then thought better of it. ¡°I want you to send the Chief of Staff at the Secret Service a request for a meeting.¡± Better to speak to him face to face.


    ¡°How polite would you like the request to be?¡± asked Stodar.


    ¡°Not at all,¡± said Delcroix. He headed for the door. The sooner he made his obligatory appearance, the sooner he could make his excuses and leave.


    ¡°Minister, did you forget something?¡± Stodar was holding the pen. ¡°If I¡¯m not there to protect you, at least keep this with you.¡±


    ***


    The trip to the palace took only a few minutes. It was a mild, sunny afternoon with a slight nip to it when the breeze picked up. Delcroix walked up the decorative path on the far left of the grounds, under the archway of vines guarded by immense gryphons carved out of hedges, and into the reception garden.


    Wafting smoke and the delicious smell of food over flames welcomed him as he approached. There was a steady wash of conversation and the sizzle of cooking meat. The garden was a broad rectangle of perfectly manicured lawn, with a white stone fountain in the middle splashing water up into the air and back down.


    Around the edges, long tables were covered in platters of food of every description. In between them were slightly shorter metal tables grilling meat over red hot coals.


    There were richly oiled wooden chairs with fat, colourful cushions but most of the thirty or forty guests were standing in clustered groups, talking and laughing, clutching plates and glasses.


    These weren¡¯t the kinds of farmers who toiled the fields. These were the landowners who employed thousands to do the toiling for them. They were robust men with robust wives, who rose early and spent most of their time in Spring and Summer outdoors, supervising the cultivation of crops that fed the nation, and made deserved fortunes in the process.


    Ranvar¡¯s ability to feed itself was crucial to its survival and independence. When you didn¡¯t rely on others for basic needs, you didn¡¯t have to make deals or sign treaties. Their part in Ranvar¡¯s success was no less than the Royal College¡¯s.


    A number of other ministers were already present. Kuplas from the Foreign Ministry, Reshvay from the Ministry for War, Bol from the Ministry of the Interior. He had no interest in talking shop.


    He scanned the area for his hosts so he could pay his respects. He found them easily. The Crown Princess, an elegant woman, relaxed and smiling in whatever company she found herself, somehow luminous and clearly the centre of attention. She had a group of women surrounding her, rich farmers¡¯ wives who lived in luxury but saw the realities of life around them and were unimpressed by showy, flashy things. They hung on her every word.


    And beside her, looking uncomfortable, was Prince Ranade, chewing on his own moustache as the meat sizzled and seared around him like hot pokers in a torture chamber.


    Delcroix waited for the carefully orchestrated rotation of one group for the next, and slipped in. He introduced himself with a deep bow.


    ¡°There¡¯s no need to be so formal, Minister,¡± said the princess. ¡°Thank you so much for coming. I¡¯m sure you¡¯re very busy but I think it is so beneficial for our most important producers to know their hard work is appreciated and under the watchful gaze of our most important protectors, don¡¯t you think?¡±


    ¡°I do if you do, ma¡¯am,¡± said Delcroix.


    ¡°That¡¯s a no,¡± said Prince Ranade, his head turned just enough to keep an eye on a cut of beef hissing and spitting to the left of him.


    ¡°Darling, please. The harvest is a time to be thankful and appreciative.¡±


    ¡°Time to eat something if you ask me,¡± muttered the prince.


    ¡°That¡¯s a wonderfully bold tie you¡¯re wearing, Minister.¡±


    ¡°It was a gift from my daughter, when she was very young. She¡¯s quite grown up now, but it reminds me of the babe she once was.¡±


    ¡°Oh, Minister, that¡¯s so lovely.¡± There were tears forming in the princess¡¯s eyes.


    The prince¡¯s eyes held something more akin to an accusation, to which Delcroix would gladly plead guilty. If the Minister of Instruction couldn¡¯t employ a little manipulation every now and again, he really wasn¡¯t fit for purpose.


    A new group moved into place and Delcroix shifted away. He had served his time and had no intention to mingle; he would leave that to the other ministers. No one would expect the Minister of Instruction to make small talk. Most would prefer he didn¡¯t talk to them at all, ever. He turned to leave and stopped. Something about the picture in front of him didn¡¯t look right.


    In amongst the landed Ranvarians, there was a man dressed in a black robe with a hood. An air of menace sitting on him like a viper coiled around his head. He hadn¡¯t been there a moment ago.


    ¡°Still.¡± His voice wasn¡¯t loud, but it cut through the noise like a sharp knife.


    No one moved. The only sound was the persistent sizzle of burning meat.


    The man, his face hidden, walked through the crowd who were still as statues. No one could move.


    Where are the Secret Service? thought Delcroix. And then he realised, Crude Arcanum.


    No one was coming, because no one could see them beneath the blanket of null. They were under constant observation from a watch station in the palace, and all their sensors were telling them everything was fine. No spikes in threat, no elevated emotions, just calm, flat normality.


    He could feel it now, hanging over him, sticking to his clothes and reinforcing the command to not move. Only, Delcroix could move.


    He could feel his pen burning hot in his top pocket. It had absorbed far more Arcanum than it was designed to, but it had done its job.


    The man was walking towards the prince. Decroix started walking to intercept him. It took a moment for the intruder to realise he wasn¡¯t the only one capable of mobility. His hood fell back to reveal a confused young man with unkempt, blond hair and wild, confused eyes spitting sparks.


    He raised his hand. ¡°Stop! Don¡¯t move!¡± His words grew more panicked as he realised how impotent they were. ¡°Still! Still!¡±


    The pen in Delcroix¡¯s pocket was searing hot now, threatening to burn right through the material.


    The man raised his other hand. It had a knife in it.


    Delcroix may no longer have been in his prime, he was older and slower, but he was still Emil Delcroix, Minister of Instruction and First Grade Mage. It would take more than a madman with a knife to overcome him. Judging by his lightning-infused eyes, though, there was enough Arcanum flowing through him to destroy half the city, probably primed to explode at death.


    The man changed targets and lunged at Delcroix, all thoughts of using magic having given way to brute force and cold steel.


    Delcroix took the pen out of his pocket, clenching his teeth against the pain as it scalded his skin, and used his empty hand to make three gestures that broke the man¡¯s legs.


    He stumbled and fell, dropping the knife and screaming in pain. Delcroix landed with his knee on the man¡¯s back. He grabbed the dirty yellow hair and pulled the head back. With his other hand, he flipped off the top of the pen and plunged the nib into the middle of the man¡¯s back, where his shoulders were widest.


    ¡°Vent.¡±


    Words of power were primitive and hard to control. Fortunately, the young assassin had suppressed everyone else¡¯s will, leaving only his own open to coercion. The pen began to glow as it absorbed more and more of the Arcanum inside the man¡¯s body. It was being released with abandon, an amount that no human body could tolerate for long. He had come here to die and take as many as he could with him.


    The pen was bright red and vibrating. Delcroix snatched it and threw it into the fountain. There was a moment of stillness and then an explosion that evaporated the water, sending a rolling fog surging in all directions.


    The grills roared and flashed flames high into the air, and then went out, all extinguished in the same instant.


    Secret Service agents began materialising in the mist, too late to save anyone who might have needed saving.


    Delcroix lifted his knee and rolled the man over. His face was shrivelled to near lifelessness.


    He softly breathed out the words, ¡°Give her back.¡±


    ¡°Give who back,¡± said Delcroix, wrapping his burned hand in his daughter¡¯s tie.


    ¡°Junia. Give her back. She isn¡¯t yours.¡±


    Junia. The demon. He had asked for her followers to be found, but he¡¯d found them himself, or at least one.


    ¡°She¡¯s dead. She took her own life, I¡¯m afraid.¡±


    The man made a horrible wheezing sound. It took a moment to realise he was laughing. ¡°Dead? No, she isn¡¯t dead. If she was, how could I do this?¡±


    Delcroix jumped back as the body beneath him began shaking. It was drawing in Arcanum but from where? There was no source here, not this powerful. There was a pop of air, like a balloon bursting, and the body was gone.


    ***


    The Secret Service released the Prince and his ministers first. They were told to wait for orders before releasing the other guests. Delcroix did his best to explain what had happened, as far as he understood it.


    ¡°It will not do for our guests to reveal what happened here today,¡± said Prince Ranade. He was standing next to his wife who was still frozen in place, a slight look of concern on her face. He examined her until his expression matched hers.


    ¡°They will be instructed otherwise,¡± said Delcroix.


    ¡°Good. So this is to do with the demon girl?¡±


    ¡°I believe so. He was one of her followers. He thought we held her here against her will. They don¡¯t believe she¡¯s dead.¡±


    ¡°What they believe is of no importance. Kuplas, have a brigade of the dragon troops withdraw from the Eastern border and fitted for bombing runs. I think the people of Gweur are in need of a reminder about their responsibilities.¡±


    ¡°Your Highness,¡± said Delcroix, ¡°if I may. Would it be possible to delay that order?¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t think the citizens of Gweur should be held accountable for the actions of their own?¡± asked the prince.


    ¡°I absolutely do, I would never suggest otherwise. But I believe there are more of them out there, planning their next move. What magic they have acquired is simplistic and hard to track, but I believe we can flush them out if we wait for the right time to launch an attack. If we go on the offensive now, they may scatter and go underground.¡±


    ¡°I see. Kuplas, have the brigade restationed with full payloads but don¡¯t deploy them. Yet. Reshvay, prepare ground troops to be moved at short notice. We should at least be prepared.¡±


    Both men nodded their assent.


    ¡°I expect you to provide me with locations for the followers of this cult within the next few days,¡± the prince said.


    ¡°Your humble servant,¡± said Delcroix.


    ¡°And you¡¯re sure this has nothing to do with the traitor? He is still in your keeping?¡±


    Delcroix was surprised by the question. The two appeared to be completely unrelated. But lack of evidence did not prove lack of guilt.


    ¡°He is, sire, but I will check to make sure he didn¡¯t somehow instigate any of this. I don¡¯t believe he was involved, but I will investigate to make certain.¡±


    ¡°Good. Do that. For a man, a non-Ranvarian, to be able to possess such power, to be able to teleport into our midst, and then recharge himself to teleport out again, that would take a great mage. Did he seem to be a great mage to you?¡±


    ¡°No, sire,¡± said Delcroix.


    ¡°Then he had the assistance of one.¡±


    It was very possible. A great mage, or something even more powerful.


    ¡°I will be thorough,¡± said Delcroix.


    ¡°At least this incident hasn¡¯t been a complete loss,¡± said Prince Ranade. ¡°An enemy identified can at least be sought out and destroyed.¡± He turned to the gold-masked Secret Service agent next to him. ¡°Start releasing the guests. Leave my wife till last.¡± He walked over to one of the smoking grills and picked up the large metal tongs. He speared a chop off the top and shook the moisture off it. He put it up to his mouth and took great, chomping bites out of the flesh.


    ***


    Delcroix sent for a team from the Ministry to take care of the farmers and other guests and staff. They came out of the Arcanum-induced paralysis bewildered and confused. They barely knew what had happened as it was, convincing them it was something else entirely wouldn¡¯t be too difficult.


    After that had been arranged, he returned to his office and took the red tie off his burnt hand. Stodar applied salve and dressed it properly. There were no sarcastic comments. Delcroix carefully folded the tie and put it back in its box. If there was blood on it, it didn¡¯t show.


    He removed his clothes and washed his arms and face thoroughly. He would have liked to soak in a tub for an hour, but he didn¡¯t have the time.


    He dressed in a crisp, clean shirt and trousers that weren¡¯t covered in dirt and grass stains. He began to feel a little bit more like a civil servant again. He walked through the Ministry to the door leading to the lower levels.


    The guards down there were oblivious to the day¡¯s events. They were too consumed with their own duties, and rightly so. At his command they burst into activity, pulling levers and sliding bolts in various parts of the room, eventually opening one of the iron-bound doors. They stood aside to let him in. He sensed their great relief when he didn¡¯t ask any of them to accompany him.


    The prisoner was sat on his bed, reading. It was a book of fairytales and contained no words of power or hidden spells. He had requested it because he used to read it to his daughter when she was a child.


    Between them was a shimmering wall, similar to the pen in its ability to absorb Arcanum, only significantly more powerful. It reminded him he¡¯d have to order another pen. Perhaps he should get two.


    ¡°Archmage, I hope you are well.¡±


    ¡°I am, thank you, Emil. Although, Archmage I am not.¡±


    ¡°No. But it¡¯s hard to think of you otherwise.¡±


    Archmage van Dastan put down the book. He was a large man, heavy set with a bald head and a thick beard that had gotten considerably thicker. ¡°How are things in the sunlight?¡±


    ¡°As you would expect. Light and shadow.¡±


    ¡°And my daughter? Is she well?¡±


    ¡°Yes. She is a student at Ransom, as I believe I mentioned last time. There has been¡­ some bullying. Attempted bullying, I should say.¡±


    ¡°Ha!¡± van Dastan grinned, unperturbed by the news. ¡°Did she kill anyone?¡±


    ¡°No. Some broken bones.¡±


    ¡°She has a soft heart, that one. Be careful you keep her safe. I accept my incarceration for now, but were anything to happen to her¡­¡±


    ¡°You make it sound like you are here voluntarily.¡± He received only an enigmatic smile in reply. ¡°Why would you choose to stay if you could leave?¡±


    ¡°You know, Emil, I spent the last few years thinking I was ensuring a bright future for my child, but in the end she wished to walk her own path. It took me quite by surprise to realise just how selfish and presumptuous I had become. Now, I¡¯d like to see where she would go without me there to ¡®interfere¡¯. This seems as good a place as any to stay out of her way, don¡¯t you think?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Delcroix. ¡°I understand what you mean. I assure you, her well being is as important to me as my own daughter¡¯s.¡±


    ¡°Good man. Anything else I can help you with?¡±


    ¡°No, sir, not right now.¡±


    Delcroix left the former Archmage to his reading and traversed the long stairway back to the sunlight. Nothing indicated van Dastan knew about the Gweurians, or cared for their cause. He, at least, was where he was meant to be and under restraint. His own, mainly.


    It was the demon that posed the most intriguing questions now. The Gweurian had been convinced she was still alive, and his demonstration had been very convincing. Had Tenner been able to somehow induce the demon¡¯s body to continue producing Arcanum? The reports he¡¯d received didn¡¯t indicate it, but then they weren¡¯t very clear about what Tenner was actually doing.


    Perhaps a more thorough report was needed. Perhaps one given in person. In fact, perhaps he should go and see what Tenner was up to in that odd building of his.

 Chapter Fifteen

    Nic knew he was late for Ad. Calc. but he didn¡¯t rush. Being ignored had its advantages. As expected, he opened the classroom door with Mrs Finleaves in full flow pointing out the importance of twinned integers in weather equations and was merely glanced at. She carried on speaking as he walked to the back of the classroom where the others were already seated and his unoccupied desk awaited him.


    Fanny greeted him with a smile, Davo with a cocked eyebrow and Simole not at all. He sat down and took a book out of his bag without looking at which book it was. It didn¡¯t matter, he was already well-versed in meteorological prognition tables.


    And, as it turned out, it also didn¡¯t matter because he was destined to never graduate from Ransom, if Mr Tenner was to be believed.


    It was a crushing thing to learn, and even more galling that it had never occurred to him. He had read enough in the biographies of prominent Also-Rans, not least of all Winnum Roke¡¯s, to know how outsiders were treated by the establishment.


    Deducing how they would treat him should have been a fairly easy task. But not for a moment had he considered they would take steps to remove the threat of embarrassing their students, who they¡¯d trained over so many years, even before he set foot on Ransom grounds.


    Keeping the Also-Rans isolated and unintegrated with the rest of the Upperclass served them well in this regards. He didn¡¯t get to socialise with the other students. He barely had the chance to observe them, other than in the cafeteria or library where they kept themselves at a distance. If he had spoken to them or discussed aspects of their studies, it would quickly have become apparent they were working at a far more advanced level. But the only interactions he¡¯d had were angry confrontations, which only helped to keep him distracted.


    He felt stupid and outplayed.


    Winnum Roke¡¯s story in particular should have warned him. She had shown remarkable aptitude for magic and was considered a prodigy, but faced relentless hostility and unfair treatment during her time at Ransom.


    While the idea of making sure no child with the potential for greatness should be left unnurtured seemed a solid one, the realities of putting that kind of thinking into practice required a number of highly-rated children to step aside. And which prominent members of the Ranvarian elite would gladly accept a demotion of their children¡¯s prospects, even if it was for the good of Ranvar?


    Nic was no prodigy. His skill was purely academic, in every sense. He posed little threat in terms of taking away one of the coveted spots on the Arts Course, but a huge threat when it came to making the institute of Ransom look like a waste of time and effort. If a lowly maid¡¯s son could outshine the best and brightest, trained under the finest teachers with no expense spared, then what was the point of the school?


    Of course, Nic was just one boy. There were many ways to pass him off as a fluke, a one-time aberration, but it was still an uncomfortable admission to make. Better to make him disappear, quietly and without fuss.


    Could that really be what was happening? It seemed an extreme response to what would be a fairly minor blow to Ransom¡¯s reputation. Mallory hadn¡¯t been treated in that manner, and he was good enough to reach the Arts Course. They had multiple ways of stopping Mallory from reaching the Royal College and were happy to let him deny a place to one of their own. Why then would they be so worried about someone like Nic?


    Unless it wasn¡¯t him who had caused their placement on the rejected list. He looked over at Simole. She was clearly a problem for the faculty. Her presence had already caused a number of unsavoury incidents, with more to follow, most likely. Would they think it wise to get rid of her?


    That didn¡¯t make much sense. With her gifts, Simole would end up at the Royal College no matter what. And no matter which class they put her in, she would attract the wrong kind of attention. It was just in her nature. There seemed to be nothing for them to gain by trying to fail her. And even if they did, she could probably wave a letter in their faces from the King himself and get a reprieve.


    He looked past her at Fanny and Davo. They could both be keeping secrets that would explain why it was one of them that had sent them all spinning towards the exit, but it seemed unlikely. Their backgrounds were stable and respectable. If they did well, no eyebrows would be lifted. They were exactly the kind of students who Ransom could point to and congratulate themselves for their egalitarian principles.


    No, it looked like it was him and him alone. He was the upstart who needed to learn his place. You could do well, you could try to better yourself, but don¡¯t try to better your betters. That kind of impertinence wouldn¡¯t be tolerated.


    It was hard to get angry about the injustice when it made such good sense. Nic understood their reasoning. Unless Nic had the potential to save the nation when no one else could, it was hardly worth letting him upstage the prized youth of the country just because he could. National pride just wouldn¡¯t allow it.


    He understood, but there was a faintly yellowing ember of ambition in his deepest recesses that was fanned to a momentary red glow by the thought of thwarting their attempt to brush him off. It was only transient, an unsustainable light in the darkness. How could he possibly overcome their well-planned and resolute intention to keep his ambitions subdued? He couldn¡¯t reach the Arts Course, he would never gain a place at the Royal College, and he certainly wouldn¡¯t become Archmage. He wasn¡¯t Winnum Roke. He was a boy who liked reading too much.


    He felt a poke in his ribs and looked up to find the classroom nearly empty. His thoughts had consumed him so completely, he hadn¡¯t heard a single word Mrs Finleaves had said. Hadn¡¯t heard the bell for the end of class. Hadn¡¯t noticed the other children get up and walk out. Only his fellow Also-Rans remained, and Mrs Finleaves sitting at her desk, pretending not to notice them.


    Simole, whose finger remained poised to stab again, and probably harder, looked at him questioningly.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong with you?¡± asked Davo as he finished stuffing his bag with books.


    ¡°Nothing,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°You were pulling a lot of strange faces,¡± said Fanny. ¡°I thought you were going to throw up.¡±


    ¡°Was I? Sorry.¡± He had been too deeply entrenched in his thoughts to be aware of what his face was doing at the time. He felt a sudden blush of embarrassment at the thought of being observed processing what he had just learned.


    ¡°What did Tenner want to talk to you about?¡± asked Davo.


    His gaze went from one to the next to the next. Should he tell them their future at Ransom was a foregone conclusion? A sham education destined to come to a sudden and unavoidable premature end?


    ¡°He wants me to meet him after school. He wants to show me something in the Pagoda.¡±


    The three of them stared at him. There was a kerfuffle at the other end of the class as Mrs Finleaves dropped the papers she had been pretending to mark. Nic stood up and slipped the book on his desk into his bag. Nobody said anything until they had left the building.


    It was a blustery afternoon and the quad was empty. Classes were over for the day and everyone had rushed off to whatever after school club they had waiting for them. Ransom had a plethora of extracurricular activities to help broaden the young minds under their charge. Most of them.


    ¡°What does he want to show you?¡± asked Davo. He pulled up his collar as they walked towards the library.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± said Nic. It was a good question but one that hadn¡¯t occurred to him while other things preyed on his mind. ¡°He said he wanted me to meet someone.¡±


    ¡°A demon?¡± said Fanny in a tremulous voice that sounded even more ominous as the wind picked up and whipped his hair up over his head, making him look like he¡¯d been startled by a ghost.


    Davo slapped the wayward locks back down, following through to smack Fanny on the top of his head. ¡°Yes, I¡¯m sure he has a whole coven of them in there, doing his bidding and granting wishes.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not saying that,¡± said Fanny. ¡°I mean he might need a human sacrifice, as part of a ritual or something. Mm. Mmm, mm, mm.¡±


    Fanny suddenly couldn¡¯t open his mouth, his lips stuck fast together.


    ¡°You know,¡± said Davo, ¡°normally I would object to you abusing your powers like this, but in this case, good work.¡±


    ¡°I have no idea what you¡¯re talking about,¡± said Simole.


    ¡°I¡¯ll meet you at the library. I doubt it¡¯ll take long.¡± Nic turned away to go around the side of the library to the Pagoda.


    ¡°Mmm. Mm, mm, mmmmm,¡± said Fanny.


    Nic walked briskly, his shoulders bunched up against the cold. Once he rounded the first corner, the breeze died down as the rear of the library and the group of trees around the Pagoda provided a wind break. It was eerily still and quiet.Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    The treetops still swayed but above them the Pagoda rose like barbed spearhead jutting out of the ground. It was an imposing building, its windowless facade making it seem more like a container or maybe a prison.


    He walked up to the door which was wider and taller than a regular door needed to be. It was made of some strange black metal or maybe polished stone. The door had no hinges and its edges were flush against the frame. Only the difference in colour separated it from its wooden surroundings. There was no bell or knocker. Nic reached out slowly towards the door and the hairs on his arm rose.


    His hand stopped short and he considered if touching the black slab was such a good idea. Maybe he should shout and hope someone heard him. Before he had a chance to decide, there was a click and the door opened inwards, swinging effortlessly and without making any noise.


    ¡°Ah, there you are,¡± said Mr Tenner, appearing in the doorway. ¡°Come in, nothing to be worried about.¡±


    His words made Nic think he must have looked as apprehensive as he felt and he made an effort to appear relaxed and at ease. He took a step over the threshold and his heart began hammering in his chest. So much for playing it cool.


    It was quite dark at first and then his eyes grew accustomed to the light seeping through the gaps in the structure, of which there were quite a few. Enough to reveal that the insides were almost entirely empty other than a single shaft running through the middle, top to bottom. Nic looked up and he could see almost all the way to the highest point, like he was inside an empty grain silo.


    ¡°It¡¯s hollow,¡± he muttered to himself.


    ¡°Yes, nothing much to see up here. Follow me.¡± Mr Tenner turned around and the door began closing by itself. Nic skipped around it to avoid being pushed back out. Mr Tenner walked over to the left and began disappearing from the bottom up, like he was sinking. As Nic chased after him, he saw the staircase leading down.


    The steps wound around the shaft that continued into the foundations. The whole structure appeared to be built around a big stick in the ground.


    ¡°Does it act as a kind of antenna?¡± Nic asked, remembering what Mallory had told him on his first day.


    ¡°Antenna? Oh no,¡± said Tenner as he stayed just within sight as he descended ahead of Nic. ¡°You can¡¯t send a signal through this.¡± He patted the shaft with one hand and the thuds echoed up the shaft and away. ¡°It allows energy to be dissipated safely. It provides a damping field.¡±


    Nic had read about how some magical devices were grounded to prevent them firing off Arcanum when overloaded, but they usually required a small strip of tuned metal. The herb detectors they used in class had one hanging from the bottom of their casing. If Tenner needed one this big, how much Arcanum was he using down here?


    The stairs went down maybe two full rotations. It wasn¡¯t that far, maybe as deep as a basement where you might store wine. There was a small area with a table that could accommodate a small dinner party. Or maybe a corpse. The thought sent a shudder through Nic. He wasn¡¯t sure where such a morbid thought had come from. It was just a table.


    Tenner went to the other side of the room where there was a door. An ordinary wooden one that looked solid and heavy but otherwise unremarkable. He turned a handle and it creaked open, the bottom scuffing along the ground.


    Nic still didn¡¯t know what he was doing here, but it wasn¡¯t like there was anything to fear. He was hardly going to be murdered and used in a demonic ritual like Fanny had said. Nic couldn¡¯t help but feel it was too late to do anything about it even if he was.


    ¡°Come along,¡± said Tenner, holding the door open.


    Nic hurried through the door and fell.


    He didn¡¯t actually fall onto the ground, it just felt like he missed his footing and never found it again. He dipped his head continuously and was sure he was about to throw up. Then it stopped and he was standing on the other side of the now closed door. He didn¡¯t remember it closing.


    ¡°This way,¡± said Tenner from ahead of him. They were in a tunnel lit by lanterns set into the wall.


    Nic hurried to catch up and bumped into the back of Mr Tenner who was just in front of him, which surprised him.


    ¡°Sorry, sir.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s quite alright. The person I want you to meet is just in here.¡±


    There was another door and through it was a nice cosy room. Embers from a large hearth cast an orange glow around the windowless chamber, pushing black shadows up the curved walls. A large chair by the hearth contained a figure, too deeply steeped in shadow to make out clearly.


    ¡°This is my¡­ friend,¡± said Mr Tenner.


    The figure leaned forward, a face looming towards him across the room, it seemed.


    ¡°You can call me Professor Veristotle,¡± said the old man. He had a pleasant face, warm and friendly. Rosy red cheeks probably from sitting too close to the fire. He seemed familiar but Nic couldn¡¯t tell where from.


    ¡°Nice to meet you,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°Are you comfortable?¡± asked the professor. ¡°You should be very comfortable.¡±


    And he was. Any anxiety he had about being here melted away. He liked the room under the Pagoda. It was private and quiet and no one would know you were down here. He would have liked a room just like it.


    He spent a good while thinking about the positive aspects of having his own underground bunker before he noticed Tenner and the professor were deep in discussion.


    ¡°You disappoint me wizardling. Such a poor specimen.¡±


    ¡°But Old Mother, he is sharp and malleable, a useful combination. There is much you could do with him and not many that would notice.¡±


    It was strange he called the professor ¡®Old Mother¡¯. Was it some kind of nickname? He did have a mothering quality. Nic felt secure with the professor. What a nice man.


    ¡°He will not do. He has not a single thread of gold in his tapestry. The girl, I told you, she is a tall tree in a barren field of stubble. Bring her to me.¡±


    ¡°I cannot. She is watched very carefully. Do you wish to attract the attention of those who would wish you harm? No, Old Mother, it would not be safe.¡±


    ¡°Pah, safe, you say. Safe from what? You think me bereft of defences against your kind. Bring me the girl.¡±


    They seemed at odds. Not in an aggressive way, they weren¡¯t fighting, but the girl they were talking about seemed a point of contention between them. Who could she be?


    Nic didn¡¯t want to ask, he didn¡¯t feel he should interrupt, but he strongly suspected they were talking about Simole. Who else? She was a special girl, the one everyone took notice of. She would go on to do great things, he was sure. She would be the next Also-Ran to prove herself worthy of Ransom. Nic was pleased by the thought. It was the special people like Simole and Winnum Roke who changed the world. Despite his own efforts to do well, it didn¡¯t really matter if he fell by the wayside. What difference did it make?


    ¡°I¡¯m fine as I am, thank you.¡± His words were loud in the silent chamber. Then he realised he wasn¡¯t in the chamber with the pleasant old man anymore. He was standing outside the Pagoda, his back to the strange door, facing the rear of the library.


    He didn¡¯t recall how he got here.


    It was dark and the library was closed, he was sure. There were no lights in any of the windows, but it didn¡¯t make the building look spooky. Not at all. It was reassuring. The one place he was always welcome.


    Nic walked back to the cottage. He had studying to do, but maybe he would wait until tomorrow. Maybe he would get to see Dizzy, if he was lucky. If he was destined to be kicked out, at least he could spend a little time around her. He found himself smiling at the thought. She would be very angry if he suddenly began popping up. He considered accepting the invitation to join the Standard Club; that would probably drive her livid. She always hated not getting her way. He burst out laughing. She was a special girl, too. Maybe it was her Mr Tenner and the old man had been talking about. Old Mother. It was an odd nickname.


    And then he was outside the cottage, wondering how things might have been different if he had accepted that invitation. How would they have arranged for him to be quietly removed if the top students had taken him in and showed him what they were learning? It didn¡¯t seem to make sense.


    He shook the thought off. Probably just another ruse designed to stop him working out what was happening. They were smart people, the ones out to teach him the error of his ways. He could rest comfortably in the knowledge that he¡¯d been beaten by worthy adversaries. No shame in being beaten by the best.


    He entered the cottage in a good mood.


    ¡°What are you so happy about?¡± said Davo. Silly Davo, always suspicious.


    ¡°What did you see in the Pagoda?¡± asked Fanny eagerly.


    ¡°Nothing much. It¡¯s empty, mostly. Big, hollow tube pointing at the sky.¡±


    ¡°Oh, you¡¯re back,¡± said Simole as she came out of her room. ¡°I¡ª¡±


    ¡°Yes?¡± said Nic. She had stopped mid-sentence and was just staring at him. ¡°Do I have something on my face?¡±


    Simole came closer. Then closer still. Normally, being that near to a girl would be awkward. He might get a bit nervous, unsure what was going on. But he felt fine. It was just Simole being Simole. She sniffed him.


    ¡°You stink.¡±


    Good old Simole, always kidding around.


    ¡°I showered this morning.¡±


    ¡°No, you stink of Arcanum. I think. It¡¯s a weird kind I don¡¯t recognise.¡±


    ¡°Hold on,¡± said Fanny. He ran into this room and came out with the herb detector. ¡°I just fixed it. Let me try.¡±


    He turned it on and pointed it at Nic. The clicker turned into a screech which ended with a sharp bang. Smoke rose from it.


    ¡°Oh no, not again,¡± whined Fanny.


    ¡°What exactly happened to you in the Pagoda?¡± asked Davo.


    ¡°Nothing. I met a very nice man. I can¡¯t remember his name, but I felt very comfortable around him. Like an old friend. I hope to see him again one day, but if I don¡¯t, that¡¯s okay.¡±


    ¡°This is very strange,¡± said Simole. ¡°I can¡¯t reach him. Nothing I do gets through. It¡¯s like he¡¯s wrapped up in wool.¡±


    ¡°Magic wool?¡± asked Davo.


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Stronger than yours?¡±


    ¡°Different. And stronger, yes.¡±


    ¡°What should we do?¡± asked Fanny.


    Nic wasn¡¯t sure what they were talking about. They were looking at him with concern, but he felt fine. He felt great, in fact. Never better.


    ¡°Give me that, I¡¯ll fix it.¡± He took the still smoking box from Fanny. Fixing things, that¡¯s what he should do with his life. You didn¡¯t need to be the best, just good enough to be useful to others. He went into his room and sat down at the desk. He opened a drawer and looked for a screwdriver he knew was in there. He couldn¡¯t find it. The only thing in there was a pen. Good, he could make a list of things he could do. Useful things.


    He picked up the pen and his head exploded. Or that¡¯s what it felt like.


    He was knocked backwards. He was sitting down, so the chair tipped over and he was staring up at the ceiling. His hand was burning. He realised it was the pen. It was very hot. He let go of it and he looked around. Three faces were peering down at him.


    ¡°Are you okay?¡± asked Fanny.


    ¡°I think so,¡± said Nic. ¡°I think I know what the pen does.¡±


    He remembered going into the Pagoda. He remembered meeting the old man. Old Mother. Professor Veristotle. And he remembered where he knew the name from. It was in Winnum Roke¡¯s autobiography. He¡¯d been her teacher at the Royal College, more than a thousand years ago.

 Chapter Sixteen

    Simole picked up the pen, raising it to her eyes and sliding it across her gaze from side to side. ¡°Where did you get this?¡±


    Nic sat up, a sharp ringing tone bouncing around inside his ears. ¡°I told you, it was a gift.¡± He blinked hard, holding his eyes closed for a long second. Despite his sudden collapse, he actually felt better. His head had cleared and his thoughts felt joined together again.


    ¡°You don¡¯t look good,¡± said Fanny. ¡°Did you eat something funny?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think that was food poisoning,¡± said Davo, eyeing Fanny with derision. ¡°Someone put a spell on him. Didn¡¯t they?¡± He aimed the question at Simole. He started off confident in his assessment, but in reality he was as confused as Fanny.


    ¡°Not a spell I¡¯ve ever seen before,¡± said Simole. ¡°There was no form or shape to it. More like he fell in a vat of Arcanum and couldn¡¯t get out. I¡¯ve never seen anything so Arcanum-intensive. Nothing living, anyway.¡±


    Nic got to his feet and then righted the chair. The other three kept their distance and watched him closely. ¡°What? I¡¯m fine.¡±


    ¡°Is he still radiating Arcanum?¡± Davo asked Simole.


    ¡°Is he contagious?¡± asked Fanny.


    ¡°I think this pen saved you,¡± said Simole, extending her hand to offer the pen back.


    Nic took it. It was hot to the touch. ¡°Yes, I think so too.¡± It felt heavier than before. Although that might have been his imagination. He put it in his pocket.


    ¡°What happened?¡± asked Fanny. ¡°Was everything okay with Tenner?¡±


    ¡°Yes. I think so.¡±


    ¡°You think so?¡± said Davo. ¡°Don¡¯t you remember?¡±


    ¡°No, I remember it very well. It was just¡­ odd. And I¡¯m tired.¡±


    ¡°So¡­?¡± said Davo. ¡°You went inside the Pagoda and then...?¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± said Fanny, ¡°what happened in the Pag?¡±


    ¡°The Pag? You¡¯re calling it the Pag now?¡± said Davo, sounding horrified.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong with that? Saves time. Come on, Nic, give us the deets on the Pag.¡±


    Davo rolled his eyes but waited for Nic to answer.


    They clearly weren¡¯t going to let it go, but Nic wasn¡¯t sure what he should tell them. It didn¡¯t make a whole lot of sense and there was no point making things stranger than they already were.


    ¡°I went inside and down some stairs to a laboratory.¡±


    ¡°The Pag lab?¡± said Fanny. Davo punched him in the arm.


    ¡°And then he introduced me to an old man called Professor Veristotle and that was it, really.¡±


    They stared at him.


    ¡°That was it?¡± said Davo. His eyes narrowed to slits. ¡°Is there something you aren¡¯t telling us? Were you sworn to secrecy? And why were you dipped in Arcanum?¡±


    Nic shrugged. ¡°I really don¡¯t know. No one cast any spells. It was very quiet down there, just the three of us. I think Tenner just wanted to introduce me to the professor, but he didn¡¯t seem to think I was suitable.¡±


    ¡°Suitable for what?¡± said all three of them together.


    Nic was a bit startled by the synchronised questioning. ¡°I don¡¯t know. I think it had something to do with his research. Maybe he wanted an assistant and he thought I might be good at researching stuff. It wasn¡¯t the sort of meeting where everyone chats freely. They were mostly talking as though I wasn¡¯t there.¡±


    ¡°I see,¡± said Davo. ¡°A position that required filling, but you didn¡¯t measure up.¡±


    Nic grinned sourly. ¡°I guess so. Probably for the best. We don¡¯t have that long before the mocks.¡± Saying it out loud reminded him of just how much work he had to do if he hoped to do well. He looked at his roommates guiltily.


    He could just tell them the truth. The full, muddled, confusing truth as he understood it. Voice his concerns about the strange Professor Veristotle. They might even be able to help him make sense of it. But what good would that achieve?


    He knew there was more to it. Professor Veristotle hadn¡¯t liked him, he had a strong recollection of that. The impression was firm and solid, unlike most of his other thoughts about the meeting. He remembered entering the Pagoda clearly, and everything after that, too. He didn¡¯t understand why he¡¯d been asked there but he¡¯d left feeling satisfied with how things had turned out. He didn¡¯t feel like that now.


    It was confusing. It all seemed straightforward at the time¡ªhe went, he met, he left¡ªbut now he had so many questions. And at some point, he had been exposed to a massive amount of Arcanum.


    It wasn¡¯t a spell¡ªSimole would have been able to tell, he was sure¡ªso some other source. Considering the kind of work Tenner did in the Pagoda, there could be any number of explanations.


    The whole thing was like an equation you¡¯ve been walked through so you know what every part means, but still, you¡¯re not sure how to use it correctly.


    Nic had been in this kind of situation many times. Spending so much time teaching himself from books, he often ran into text that was clear and precise in its description of a subject but which, for whatever reason, didn¡¯t gel with his thinking process.


    He had learned the thing to do in such a situation was to be patient and wait. Once all the pieces were in your head, it could take time for them to fit together. But once one or two of them did, it usually resulted in a cascade effect. The more pieces that clicked into place, the more obvious it became where the remaining ones were meant to go.


    There was something more here. Some connection he was missing. He would wait until it became clearer before saying anything.


    ¡°Listen, I know this is all a bit weird, but we can¡¯t lose focus on what¡¯s important.¡± He didn¡¯t feel tired. His thoughts were clear and he knew exactly how to proceed. ¡°We need to start taking the mocks seriously.¡±


    ¡°Isn¡¯t that what we¡¯ve been doing?¡± asked Davo.


    ¡°We¡¯ve been using our classmates as a guide,¡± said Nic, carefully choosing his words. ¡°But none of the Standard Club are in any of our classes. We don¡¯t know what kind of results they¡¯ve been getting, or which parts of the syllabus they¡¯ve covered. We¡¯re only assuming it¡¯s the same as us.¡±


    ¡°You want to spend even more time reading books?¡± said Simole with a sigh.


    ¡°No. We have to go beyond that. We need to get more out of the teachers. Don¡¯t worry, it shouldn¡¯t be too difficult.¡± He didn¡¯t know if that was true. He didn¡¯t even know what information he wanted from the teachers. He just knew there was more to learn.


    ¡°Okay,¡± said Fanny, his voice wavering with uncertainty. ¡°It¡¯s not like we have a busy social calendar or anything.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± said Nic. ¡°We¡¯ll start tomorrow. I¡¯m going to get some sleep. I¡¯m pooped.¡± He wasn¡¯t at all tired, but he wanted to curtail any discussion that might lead to awkward questions.


    They filed out of his room. ¡°Heh, pooped,¡± said Fanny, sniggering to himself and eliciting a groan from Davo at the juvenile behaviour. Simole paused to look at him, and then closed the door without speaking.


    Nic sat at the desk. He took out the pen and took off the lid. The nib looked like any ordinary pen, be it an expensive one he could never afford to buy for himself. The minister had given it to him as a last minute graduation gift. It made complete sense that someone like Minister Delcroix, a top official in a government department, would own such a device, but it made no sense for him to give it away. Was it by accident?


    Had he meant to give him some meaningless token and forgotten this one had special capabilities? Or had it been deliberate? In which case, for what reason?


    He couldn¡¯t have known Nic would be exposed to Arcanum in a huge amount. There had been nothing to suggest Nic might need protection at his new school. He put the lid back on and it made a solid, satisfying click.


    It was a beautifully made item. The feel of it in his hand was reassuring. He would love to own ten more just like it. He wondered how much that would cost. He put the pen down and swivelled in his chair. On his bed was the broken (again) detector left behind by Fanny.


    Mechanical magical devices. They could do things almost as well as a mage. Perhaps they were limited in scope and range, but you didn¡¯t need to be a gifted person to be able to use them.


    He wasn¡¯t a gifted person.


    If he could make his own Arcanum-absorbing pen, or design a detector that told you what it was detecting and where it was coming from, not only would it help him avoid future mishaps¡ªhe was sure there would be more¡ªbut it might also give him something to do with all his accumulated knowledge.


    He went over to the bed and sat down. He picked up the detector and looked it over. It was still smoking, slightly. Wisps of smoke leaked from the edges. He had absolutely no idea how it worked, but he would figure it out, eventually.


    He lay down on his back, his mind racing with possibilities. Books he needed to get hold of, which teachers he could pester, where to find materials. It would take time away from his studies, but as Fanny had said, they had no pressing social engagements. He could go to the library right now and get started. A good idea. He would close his eyes for a second, gather his thoughts, and then slip out after the others had gone to bed.


    When he opened his eyes, bright sunshine was streaming into the room. He sat up and the detector slid off his chest and hit the floor with a crack. A section of the casing fell off.


    He groaned. He had been alert and ready to get to work when he fell asleep, and now he had woken after several hours rest and he felt terrible. His limbs felt heavy and his mind was fogged up. He was fully dressed and even had his shoes on.


    He let his feet drop over the side of the bed and stood up. The room swam in front of him for a moment and then went back to normal. He walked over to the door and opened it.


    Fanny was walking out of the kitchen in a bathrobe, eating his pre-breakfast slice of toast. ¡°You weren¡¯t kidding about putting in extra hours. Give us a minute to put on some pants.¡±


    Nic nodded and went back inside. He undressed and grabbed his stuff to take a shower. It had been a strange night and he needed to get off to a fresh start.


    They arrived early for breakfast at the cafeteria and the sounds of their cutlery echoed around the empty hall. First lesson of the day was Economic Analysis with Mr Cromnym. They were first to arrive and set up at the back as usual where they reviewed everything Mr Cromnym had taught them since the beginning of term.


    Nic knew the disparity between them and the students at the top had nothing to do with the exam itself. They had access to past papers and could see the kinds of questions that would be asked. It would be the answers that would differentiate them.


    While he and the rest of the students in the classes he¡¯d attended had been given perfectly reasonable and correct information, those ahead of them had better answers. Exactly how those answers trumped what he had access to, wasn¡¯t clear to him. There was no way of knowing without being in those other classrooms, which would be hard to do unnoticed, or somehow getting hold of those students¡¯ notes. The latter didn¡¯t sound entirely impossible.


    ¡°The key to the Inefficient Business Model,¡± droned on Mr Cromnym, ¡°is the deliberate slowing down of resource distribution. Consider, if a man comes up with a design for an innovative type of saddle, he needs leather, he needs craftsmen to shape and build it into a useable item, then he needs storage, transport and a seller. The step-by-step exchange of money throughout that process is what creates a sustainable economy. On the other hand, if a mage were to create the same saddle using Arcanum, and phase it straight to the customer¡¯s doorstep, the process would be much quicker and cost efficient, but all those intermediates would be removed from the fabric of society to which we are all connected. A difficult balance for a constantly developing culture with advancing technology.¡±


    Nic raised his hand.


    ¡°Yes, Mr Tutt?¡± The room turned its attention to the rear. ¡°You have an observation to make?¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s the solution?¡± asked Nic.This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    ¡°How do you mean?¡±


    ¡°How can we use the most advanced technologies available without disenfranchising the workforce?¡±


    Mr Cromnym puffed out his chest and scratched at the vest under his jacket. ¡°That¡¯s the question, isn¡¯t it? Economic Analysts are working on that problem every day.¡±


    ¡°But they must have working theories,¡± said Nic. ¡°Will you be teaching them?¡±


    ¡°Ah, no, that¡¯s a little advanced for this class, perhaps¡ª¡±


    ¡°Could I have a list of the relevant books, please?¡±


    Mr Cromnym put his thumbs behind his lapels and smiled condescendingly. ¡°Don¡¯t you think you should first master what this class has to offer?¡±


    ¡°I already have, sir,¡± said Nic, trying his best to keep his tone deferential. ¡°¡®The key to the Inefficient Business Model is the deliberate slowing down of resource distribution.¡¯ Mandlkin and Grote, chapter three, Inefficiency as Core Economic Growth Provider. I can recite the whole chapter if you¡¯d like.¡±


    It was hard keeping the contempt out of his voice. He knew irritating the faculty would only prove to be counterproductive.


    ¡°I just need the references, I¡¯ll do the reading on my own. We have a lot of free time since transfer students aren¡¯t accepted in any of the school¡¯s out of hours programmes or clubs. I can put the request in writing if you¡¯d prefer, and send copies to the appropriate departments so there¡¯s an official record on file. For administrative purposes.¡±


    Then again, sometimes being counterproductive was necessary to get the desired result, as the Inefficiency Business Model demonstrated.


    Nic left class with a list of twenty books. Mr Cromnym had responded to Nic¡¯s request by overburdening him with textbooks new and old. If his hope was to teach Nic a lesson for derailing the class, Nic hoped he would succeed. Being taught a valuable lesson was exactly what he was looking for.


    The list contained many books Nic had never even heard of, filling him with excitement. Mandlkin and Grote proved to be correct in academia as well as business.


    After Military History, and an in-depth interrogation of Mr Varity with regards to the intricacies of Ranvarian brinkmanship, the list of books grew to twice the length.


    Mr Varity had responded to Nic¡¯s questioning with a weary resignation, as though he had been expecting and dreading just such an inquiry. He answered quickly, agreed to provide further reading material and then returned to the scheduled teaching plan.


    ¡°How are we going to read all that?¡± Fanny whined over lunch.


    ¡°He¡¯s probably going to get a few more added to the list before the day¡¯s over,¡± said Davo.


    ¡°We can split it up between us,¡± said Nic. ¡°We just need to identify the useful stuff.¡±


    ¡°And how are we supposed to know which is the ¡®useful stuff¡¯?¡± asked Davo.


    ¡°I¡¯ll show you,¡± said Nic. He yawned.


    ¡°You don¡¯t look very good,¡± said Simole.


    ¡°Thanks.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m serious,¡± said Simole. ¡°That much Arcanum in your system can do serious damage.¡±


    ¡°But it isn¡¯t in my system anymore. I feel fine.¡±


    ¡°We could take you to the nurse to check you out,¡± said Davo. ¡°I assume the school¡¯s legally obliged to prevent us from dying on campus, even if they aren¡¯t morally so inclined.¡±


    ¡°You found where the nurse is?¡± asked Fanny. ¡°Does she give out sick notes?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s nothing wrong with you,¡± said Davo.


    ¡°No,¡± said Fanny, ¡°but you have to plan ahead. I prefer to know where my exits are.¡±


    Davo turned his attention back to Nic. ¡°The sanitorium¡¯s in the main school. I know we aren¡¯t supposed to go in there, but they won¡¯t complain if it¡¯s a mission of mercy.¡±


    ¡°I told you, I¡¯m fine.¡± Nic was appreciative of his friends¡¯ concern, but it was unnecessary and mildly irritating. ¡°Let¡¯s go see if they¡¯ve got these books at the library. We can ask for them to be put aside.¡±


    ¡°Put aside where?¡± asked Fanny. ¡°What is it with you and that librarian?¡±


    ¡°You really need to ask?¡± said Davo. He tapped the side of his prodigious aquiline nose.


    Nic said nothing, not wanting to encourage them. He looked over at Simole who he expected to be thoroughly unamused by the antics of the two, but her expression was something else altogether. She looked concerned.


    She may well have had cause to be. Residual Arcanum in his system could do all sorts of mischief, but he would have noticed some symptoms. He was clear headed and fully fit.


    The library was moderately busy. It was lunchtime so most students were occupied elsewhere, but with mocks approaching, there were still some who were eager to keep pushing themselves. Nic felt a twinge of regret. Under other circumstances, he could see himself thriving in such an atmosphere.


    Nic showed the librarian his list while the others went off to their usual table.


    ¡°This is quite extensive,¡± she said as she peered at it over her spectacles. ¡°Are you planning to start your master¡¯s degree now?¡±


    Nic smiled politely. ¡°I just need to know if you have them, I can find them myself.¡±


    ¡°We have them. We have all of them¡± She took off her glasses and for the first time he noticed her eyes were grey to the point of being white. ¡°You know, there is such a thing as overworking.¡±


    ¡°There is. But I¡¯m still testing the boundaries.¡±


    She smiled and put the glasses back on. ¡°I hope you aren¡¯t using Winnum Roke as your role model. Not everyone can be the perfect student.¡± She paused, as though expecting him to respond, but he had nothing to say. He agreed with her. ¡°I¡¯ll dig out some of those books; a few of them are in storage. Not much call for five hundred year old books on economics. I¡¯ll leave them in Mr Tenner¡¯s room, I¡¯m sure he won¡¯t mind. Perhaps we should get you a private study room of your own.¡±


    A sudden, unexpected thrill shot through Nic. Even if she wasn¡¯t serious, the idea of his own room in the library set his heart racing for a moment. He looked up and she was smirking like she knew exactly what had gone through his mind and he felt a blush of heat on his face. He turned and quickly walked away.


    He decided to take a quick detour to the study room before meeting up with the others. Winnum Roke¡¯s autobiography should be back in its proper place and there were a couple of other books he should return. The tomes on Demonology held less interest for him now, with all the studying he needed to do. And he also wanted to investigate the mechanics of magical devices.


    He looked over his shoulder. The librarian was still smirking at him. He could ask her about it later.


    The steps up to the third floor bounced and squeaked under his feet as he skipped up them. The rail was familiar in his grasp. Here he didn¡¯t need to worry about what others had in store for him. Everything he needed was available to him.


    He reached for the keys as he approached the door but as soon as he placed a hand on the handle, it was clear the door was unlocked. His first thought was he¡¯d forgotten to lock it, which would have been embarrassing if Tenner found out. He opened the door and found Mr Tenner himself standing over the table with the Roke book open in his hands.


    ¡°Ah, hello, Nic. Didn¡¯t expect to see you here.¡± He spoke in a relaxed carefree manner. ¡°This yours? Very interesting.¡±


    ¡°She was an Also-Ran,¡± said Nic, trying not to show his surprise, or his nerves. The moment he saw the Demonology teacher, a rush of blood made him feel light-headed. His fingers and toes went cold and he wanted to sit down. He remained standing.


    ¡°Yes, that¡¯s right. I expect you two have quite a lot in common.¡± He slammed the book shut. ¡°Actually, I wanted to have a word with you. About last night. You weren¡¯t too put out, were you? Professor Veristotle can be a bit brusque the first time you meet him.¡±


    ¡°Oh no, sir. It was fine. That is¡­ Winnum Roke had a tutor called Veristotle.¡±


    ¡°Of course. That¡¯s the professor¡¯s great, great, great¡­ well, I¡¯m not really sure. His ancestor, certainly.¡±


    That made sense. A family tradition. ¡°I didn¡¯t think¡­ I mean¡­ I don¡¯t think he liked me.¡±


    ¡°What? Nonsense. He just takes a little time to warm up to people. You¡¯ll see. I only realised after you left I never told you why I wanted you to meet him. He¡¯s the foremost expert on Demonology, you see, and a bit of a mentor to me in my early days. Many of the experiments I carry out in my facility originated with him. He¡¯s a grumpy old git, to be honest, but mind like a steel trap. Full of the most amazing insights. You remind me of him in many ways. I thought you two might be able to feed off one another, as it were.¡±


    A companion to an old man? It was certainly something a maid¡¯s son could do, and if Tenner was right about the professor¡¯s intellectual facilities, Nic wouldn¡¯t mind picking a brain like that. ¡°He didn¡¯t seem all that keen, though.¡±


    ¡°Yes, but that¡¯s just your first meeting. Like I said, he takes time to trust people. He also has a habit of speaking his mind. Privilege of old age, which is a polite way of saying he¡¯s a rude old fart, haha. You shouldn¡¯t take notice. But I think you could learn a thing or two from him. We¡¯ll slowly get him comfortable around you first.¡±


    Comfortable. Yes, that would be good. The room seemed to turn on its side, but it wasn¡¯t the room, it was him. Nic fell and the ground rose up to meet him somewhere along the way.


    ***


    Nic opened his eyes. He was in a very cool room with white walls and white sheets. A man in a white outfit, matching smock and trousers, stood by the bed with a thin object in his hand.


    ¡°You¡¯re awake. Good. I¡¯m Nurse Hall. The doctor will be in to see you shortly.¡±


    Nic nodded like he understood, but he didn¡¯t. Then he flinched backwards. The object in the nurse¡¯s hand was a needle. A big one.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, this is just to help flush the Arcanum out of your system. All better soon.¡±


    Nic was drowsy and none of his limbs worked. He wanted to back away but there were a thousand pillows blocking the way. The needle cut into his arm like a sword and he passed out.


    When he came round again, there was a woman in a white coat standing where the nurse had been. She had greying hair tied into a bun and frighteningly large eyes which returned to a more reasonable size once she removed the magnifying glass she¡¯d been looking through.


    ¡°Welcome back, Nic.¡± She had a pleasant, warm voice. ¡°I¡¯m Doctor Gilleshpie. I don¡¯t have a lisp, that¡¯s how it¡¯s pronounced.¡±


    Nic tried to say hello back, but his throat was too dry to emit more than a croak.


    ¡°Don¡¯t try to speak. You¡¯ve been exposed to rather a large dose of Arcanum. Far more than any young man has the right to expect on school grounds.¡± She looked to the side somewhat disapprovingly. ¡°You¡¯re out of the woods now, though. You just rest. Oh, and there¡¯s someone here who would like to speak to you.¡± She turned to the side. ¡°Be quick.¡±


    Tenner floated into view. ¡°Ah, hello again. Seems like I owe you an apology. I¡¯m afraid it¡¯s my fault you¡¯re in here.¡±


    ¡°Mm?¡± was all Nic could manage.


    ¡°Yes, it seems someone left the shielding off our Arcanum stores. We have barrels of the stuff in the basement, doesn¡¯t usually cause any problems. I¡¯ve grown quite a resistance to it and the professor could eat the stuff for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Ha. You, on the other hand, are very sensitive to it. Could have ended very badly. I¡¯m terribly sorry, Nic. I can¡¯t imagine what strange things you¡¯ve been seeing and hearing lately. Quite the hallucinogen when you have so much of it in your system.¡±


    The words reached him slowly, trickling down his ears, but he understood now. The strange paranoia, the disjointed feeling, the distorted way the world had felt¡ªhe had been poisoned, by accident. But he¡¯d be fine now. Ranvar had the best Arcanum treatments in the world. They had the only Arcanum treatments in the world, but that didn¡¯t make them any less effective.


    ¡°I really am sorry, and I promise to make it up to you when you¡¯re better. Don¡¯t worry, it¡¯s going to be fine. Doctor? Is he alright.¡±


    Everything went black again.


    Next time he opened his eyes, it was dark. After a few seconds he began to be able to see shapes and outlines. He was still in bed. There was a figure nearby, but he couldn¡¯t see it clearly.


    ¡°Here, have a drink.¡± A straw was held to his lips. Water flooded down his throat. He didn¡¯t need to see clearly to recognise the voice. A cool hand pressed against his warm forehead. ¡°You stupid boy. Why do I always have to take care of you.¡±


    ¡°I missed you, Dizzy.¡±


    ¡°I missed you, too.¡±


    ¡°Nice to see you again, Miss Delcroix,¡± said another voice from further back.


    The hand jumped away from his face. Too soon.


    ¡°What are you doing here?¡± said Dizzy, flustered.


    ¡°I could ask you the same thing,¡± said Simole, ¡°but we already know the answer, don¡¯t we?¡±


    He couldn¡¯t see either of their faces but he liked hearing them so close. He imagined them sitting around a table, all friends.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about. I just wanted to¡­¡± Dizzy¡¯s voice faded away.


    ¡°You just wanted him to hold you and kiss you and run the tip of his tongue around the rim of your ear, and you¡¯ll say no, please, don¡¯t, but you won¡¯t stop him, you¡¯ll pull him closer because you want more, you¡¯ve always wanted more, haven¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°What? Are you crazy? What kind of thing is that to say to someone?¡±


    ¡°Ignore her,¡± said Nic, flapping at the air with his hand. ¡°She grew up in a castle where they only had Arcanum tomes and romance novels to read. She doesn¡¯t understand how complicated real feelings can be.¡±


    ¡°Sure, Nic. If you say so. Here, I wanted to give you this.¡± Simole¡¯s unmistakable silhouette drew closer. She was holding something up, long and thin. Not another needle! No. It was a pen.


    ¡°Where did you get that?¡± Dizzy sounded shocked.


    ¡°Your father gave it to me,¡± said Nic. ¡°A present for catching up to you.¡± He grabbed at the pen but missed. He felt very tired.


    There was more talking, fast and sharp, but he couldn¡¯t make it out. The voices were too far away.


    He woke with a start. The room was full of white sunlight and he sat up to look around. No one else was in the room. He remembered Dizzy and Simole being there but would have put it down to being a dream, except for the pen in the breast pocket of his paper pyjamas. There would have been a horrible mess if the pen had leaked.


    He felt infinitely better. He didn¡¯t know if it was the pen or the injections, but he was able to climb out of bed and walk to the door with no trouble.


    Had Dizzy really come to see him? She had always been able to get into places she wasn¡¯t allowed, so it was quite possible. Even though she was in a different world from him and keeping company with people he didn¡¯t approve of, he still experienced a wave of relief that she cared enough to want him to be okay. It was a relief he hadn¡¯t realised he needed.


    As for Simole, she could come and go as she pleased, seen by only those she wished to see her. No surprise there.


    He found the nurse in the next room, who called the doctor and he was given a quick but thorough examination. The doctor explained the treatment he¡¯d received to flush out his system, and gave him a course of pills to keep taking.


    Then he was given his clothes and bag and allowed to leave. It was a cold, blustery day, but bright and clean. The sanitorium was at the edge of the main school buildings, but there was a huge difference in the student population.


    Children of all ages ran around, laughing, shouting, rushing to class. They were all younger than him and all seemed to belong.


    They had no idea who he was and didn¡¯t bother him. They ran around him and stepped aside to let him pass, and apologised if they accidentally bumped into him. Never had normality felt so abnormal.


    He got back to the cottage with a great desire to take a long shower. He walked in to find Fanny and Davo standing by the fire, both hunched up, arms wrapped around themselves like the frost was biting. They looked pale with worry.


    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± said Nic. It didn¡¯t seem to help.


    ¡°Simole,¡± said Davo. Fanny shook his head.


    ¡°What? Simole, what?¡±


    ¡°She said they poisoned you on purpose. Said she was going to find out why.¡±


    ¡°We couldn¡¯t stop her,¡± said Fanny.


    ¡°She went to the Pagoda last night. She didn¡¯t come back.¡±


    And it all fell into place, a complete education all at once.


    How could Tenner not have known he had been exposed to Arcanum? The symptoms would have been more than obvious. Plus, he was an expert practitioner. He¡¯d have known instantly.


    The pieces slotted together seamlessly.


    They didn¡¯t want him, they wanted her. Only, she was always being watched by those afraid she might cause trouble. Unrelated but inconvenient. The only way was to make her come to them. She could become invisible to prying eyes if she wished.


    Not him. Her. He was just the bait. The Arcanum-doused bait to lure her in. And now they had her.

 Chapter Seventeen

    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you tell us any of this before?¡± asked Davo, as annoyed as Nic had ever seen him.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± said Fanny. ¡°Would¡¯ve been nice to know.¡±


    ¡°And maybe Simole wouldn¡¯t have wandered in there, unprepared,¡± added Davo.


    The guilt already weighed heavily on Nic, he didn¡¯t need them adding to it. But he understood why they felt betrayed. Now they knew the truth¡ªall of it, as far as he could remember¡ªand they had not reacted with sympathy and understanding. They had both become very angry.


    The hardest part was admitting he had purposefully misled them. He tried to make excuses, citing his confusion and Arcanum-induced delirium as reasons for holding back. There was some validity to what he said, he¡¯d hardly been able to believe it himself and been full of doubts, so spreading his uncertain suspicions wouldn¡¯t have done much good, but his words sounded hollow and empty.


    ¡°To be honest, I¡¯m not used to relying on other people. I¡¯ve always done things on my own.¡± He stared at the rug on the floor, unable to meet their eyes.


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Davo. ¡°You have a terrible habit of looking down on the people around you.¡±


    Nic wanted to object, insist that wasn¡¯t true, but he was in no position to do so.


    ¡°Tell us again, everything that happened inside the Pagoda,¡± said Davo. ¡°Leave nothing out.¡±


    He repeated his story, from the moment he stepped through the strange door to when he found himself back outside. He quoted every word he¡¯d heard and what he suspected they meant, from the odd things Professor Veristotle had said to the unlikelihood of both Arcanum experts not noticing his poisoned condition.


    He included what he¡¯d learned from the books he¡¯d read and the conversations with Tenner. He told them about his deal with the librarian and the history he had with Dizzy, who her father was and the mystery of why he gave Nic the pen. And he told them whose daughter Simole was.


    Once he started revealing all the things he had kept so jealously guarded, there seemed to be no stopping it.


    He¡¯d kept so much from them, left them in the dark while he basked in the glory of knowing what others did not. It was embarrassing, it was awful, he wanted to crawl out of his own skin and slink away, but he deserved every excruciating moment.


    They had listened slack-jawed and grew increasingly agitated, but held their questions for when he finished.


    ¡°So they were using you to bait Simole?¡± asked Davo.


    ¡°I think so. I can¡¯t see any other reason to let me go so obviously out of my mind. They wanted her to come to them.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± asked Fanny nervously. ¡°What are they going to do to her?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure. Something to do with opening a door into the demonic plane, I would guess. Her power might allow them to do something, some experimental spell, that wouldn¡¯t work with anyone else.¡±


    ¡°By killing her?¡± Fanny¡¯s normally red face was stark white.


    ¡°Maybe. They¡¯ll probably need to keep her alive for now, though.¡± He knew he sounded like he was grasping at straws.


    ¡°We could be jumping to all sorts of silly conclusions,¡± said Davo, his face as pale as it ever was. ¡°She might be absolutely fine. We¡¯ve seen what she can do. If anyone can take care of themselves in a situation like this¡­¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± said Nic, quietly, ¡°but they know what she¡¯s capable of, too. They wouldn¡¯t have done this if they didn¡¯t have a way of controlling her or neutralising her abilities.¡±


    There was a long silence as the three of them stood in the small hallway.


    ¡°So, what do we do?¡± said Fanny, desperately trying to move them towards a solution. ¡°We could tell one of the teachers. They¡¯d have to do something. I mean, they¡¯re not all hostile towards us, not completely hostile, that is¡­¡± He lost faith in what he said as he said it and let his words fade away.


    ¡°It¡¯s Saturday,¡± said Davo. ¡°And even if we could find a teacher, they wouldn¡¯t be inclined to believe us. Simole¡¯s just gone off somewhere, like she always does. They¡¯re hardly going to give credence to the idea she¡¯s been kidnapped for nefarious purposes by another teacher.¡±


    It certainly sounded unbelievable when Davo said it out loud. Nic felt at a loss. What was he supposed to do? This wasn¡¯t a multiple choice test where he at least knew the correct answer was somewhere on the page. Simole was in trouble, every uncomfortable twinge in his body insisted on it. He might even have inadvertently given Tenner the idea to use her as a dimensional doorway. The guilt choked him and made it hard to breathe.


    He left Davo and Fanny by the fire and went into his room. It was too hot, too close, his face burned with heat inside and out. He opened the large window by his desk and stuck his head out, taking large, gulping breaths.


    Outside, the day was brittle and cold. His view consisted of grey skies and the pond, surrounded by dead vegetation. Simole had done that. Her power was truly awesome while being quietly terrifying, and she could use it without resorting to chants or complicated gestures.


    It wasn¡¯t really surprising; she had been trained by the greatest mage alive since she was a baby. Her skills were greater than most full mages, greater than the Master who had come to the school. Perhaps Davo was right, perhaps she could take care of herself.


    But there was no confidence in his thinking. Simole was still a young girl facing two experienced and well-prepared opponents. He strongly suspected Professor Veristotle was much more than the doddering old man he had appeared to be. Possibly, his appearance had been altered using Arcanum to make him seem aged and harmless.


    Whatever the truth of the matter, Nic felt responsible for allowing Simole to fall into their clutches. He didn¡¯t know what to do, but he held no doubt that he had to do something.


    He was even less qualified to take on Tenner and his mentor than Simole. What could he do to stop them? He didn¡¯t even know what they were planning to do.


    But he could surmise. He could take the information he had, and extrapolate a series of possibilities. It was what he was good at.


    Tenner might have years of experience, but his resources were available to all. Knowledge was free and easily accessible. There wasn¡¯t much time and a lot of data to go through, but sorting out the relevant from the incidental, and using the incidental to fortify the relevant in ways no one else thought to, was where Nic excelled.


    He had an entire, well-stocked library at his disposal. If Tenner was planning to open a door using Simole as the catalyst, there would be ways to keep the door closed. Technically, you didn¡¯t need to be a mage to disrupt a spell.


    Buoyed by the idea of finding a solution that was waiting for him between the covers of a book, he turned around, ready to share his renewed hope with the others.


    ¡°I¡¯ve got it,¡± said Fanny, rushing into the room. ¡°Simole¡¯s under the King¡¯s protection, right? She¡¯s watched by the Secret Service, right? All we have to do is contact them and tell them she¡¯s gone missing and might be in danger.¡± His fingers curled and uncurled with nervous energy. ¡°They¡¯d have to act, right? It¡¯s their job.¡±


    ¡°And how are we supposed to contact them?¡± asked Davo as he followed Fanny in. ¡°Do you know any of their local hangouts?¡±


    The Secret Service¡¯s headquarters on campus was, as their name implied, a secret.


    ¡°They always turn up when there¡¯s a rumble,¡± said Fanny, ¡°as long as it involves one of the nobles. We could start a fight with someone important, in line to the throne or something, and then wait.¡± He looked expectantly for confirmation that this was a brilliant idea.


    Davo shook his head. ¡°All that would do is get us beaten black and blue. The only person who could pull of something like that is Simole but unfortunately, the person you¡¯re trying to rescue doesn¡¯t normally involve themselves in the rescue attempt.¡±


    Fanny snapped his fingers and his agitated tics and jiggles stopped. ¡°I¡¯ve got it. We use the detector.¡± He pointed to the box sitting on Nic¡¯s desk. ¡°Secret Service give off Dark Arcanum, right? No problem. I just need to get hold of a copy of Roke¡¯s Index.¡±


    ¡°You really think you can get it that sensitive?¡± asked Nic. He knew it was possible, but he hadn¡¯t had the time to work out how.


    ¡°I fixed it before, I can do it again. I just need to refine the parameters.¡± He patted Nic on the arm. ¡°It¡¯s all very well knowing the theoreticals, but magic¡¯s value is in its practical applications. I¡¯ve been playing around with this thing since you broke it, I think I can modify it to do what we want. No, I¡¯m sure I can. Let¡¯s go to the library, they should have the technical specs I need.¡±


    ¡°Yes, I was just¡ª¡± began Nic, but Fanny had already walked out.


    ¡°Hm,¡± said Davo, ¡°well, that¡¯s a start, but we need to cover all our bases. If they are planning some demonic hoo ha, there¡¯s got to be a way of stopping them, or at least slowing them down. We should go look in that private study Tenner keeps in the library. We might find a clue to what he¡¯s up to.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Nic, ¡°I was going to say the¡ª¡± Davo walked out before Nic could finish.


    He was standing alone in his room, doing nothing to help Simole while the other two were already taking action. He hurried to catch up.


    The three of them strode purposefully across the campus, the wind flapping their garments. There were hardly any students about but the sounds of cheers and applause drifted across from the playing fields. Sports of various kinds were taking place, harmless contests of skill and athleticism. Nobody died playing those games.


    ¡°Are you sure there isn¡¯t anything else you have to tell us?¡± asked Davo as they neared the library. ¡°Any dark secrets that might get us locked up or thrown out of the country?¡±


    ¡°No, I, oh, actually¡­¡± There was something he had completely forgotten.


    The other two stopped and glared at him. ¡°What?¡± demanded Davo.


    ¡°It¡¯s just that, er, we probably won¡¯t be getting into the second year of the Upperclass.¡±


    They continued glaring at him. Nic quickly summed up how they had been placed in the lowest classes with the intention of not troubling the students the school actually valued. Surprisingly, both Fanny and Davo took this news without much reaction.


    ¡°Can¡¯t say I¡¯m surprised,¡± said Davo with a snort. ¡°Entirely in keeping with the entitled mindset this place thrives on.¡±


    ¡°And these people are going to be our future rulers?¡± Fanny shook his head in disappointment.


    ¡°Hardly time to sort this out right now,¡± said Davo, ¡°but, Nic, please, no more withholding. I realise you meant to protect us while you found a solution on your own, but it really is quite patronising. It won¡¯t do.¡±


    ¡°No. I¡¯m sorry,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°From now on, full disclosure. Three minds are better than one. Even two and a half minds.¡± He glanced sideways at Fanny.


    ¡°I ignore your feeble attempt at humour,¡± said Fanny. ¡°We¡¯re only wasting time, now. We can come up with a way to destroy Ransom¡¯s fragile ego later.¡± He marched into the library.


    Fanny immediately split off to find the books he needed for his research. Nic and Davo went up to the private study room. Nic opened it with his key and they walked into an empty room.


    Never had nothing been such a shocking sight. Every book, big, small, thick and thin, every scrap of paper was gone.


    ¡°Seems like they had a clear out,¡± said Davo.


    Nic wandered around the small room like he might find a hidden corner behind which everything was waiting for him.


    ¡°It was here. Dozens of books.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I have no doubt. Thieves in the night, and so forth. We are a step behind, Nic, but there¡¯s no cause for panic. We need to observe basic principles of business. When your competitor takes a seemingly unassailable lead, you put your head down and pursue your own course. You don¡¯t rush blindly ahead, you slowly reel him in.¡±


    Nic nodded. He had to think. The books hadn¡¯t left the premises, the librarian would never allow that, they had just been relocated. He was pretty sure he remembered most of the titles. He certainly recalled Winnum Roke¡¯s autobiography. There was zero chance the librarian wouldn¡¯t know what happened to it.Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    Somewhere deep in his instincts he knew that book was important. It wasn¡¯t just a recollection of anecdotes, it held vital clues, he was sure of it. Winnum Roke had inadvertently opened a door to the Other Place, as she called it. She had written the book of fairy tales full of myths that weren¡¯t quite so mythical.


    ¡°Ah, Nic,¡± said the librarian when he approached her desk. She let out a long breath that was worryingly close to a sigh. It was the most emotional Nic had ever seen her. ¡°It seems you have been quite the busy boy.¡±


    ¡°I have?¡± said Nic, unsure how to respond, or to what exactly he¡¯d be responding to.


    ¡°Mr Tenner has asked that you return the key to his private study.¡±


    ¡°Oh, yes, of course.¡± Nic quickly handed over the small key. It wasn¡¯t like he had any use for it, now. ¡°I left the autobiography in there, the one you lent me.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said the librarian. ¡°It is back in my keeping.¡±


    Nic let out a sigh of his own. ¡°Could I borrow it again.¡±


    The look over the librarian¡¯s spectacles robbed him of his recently claimed relief.


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid not. I received a missive from the Headmaster.¡± She paused to allow the gravity of the situation to sink in. ¡°He asked that you no longer be allowed any extraordinary privileges beyond those of other students. I use ¡®asked¡¯ euphemistically. To wit, I will require the return of the other key I left in your keeping.¡±


    The Headmaster himself had become involved. Was he trying to stop Nic embarrassing his students in the mocks, or was he aligned with Tenner?


    This time he was far more hesitant when he took out the key to the library¡¯s back door. He moved his hand towards her in jerks like it was being tugged forward by a string. She took the key from his involuntarily firm grasp and it was as if a lifeline had been ripped from him.


    ¡°You can still use the regular facilities during opening hours, of course.¡±


    ¡°But, but, the Libraries Charter¡­¡± It was a weak effort. She had originally given him the key to counter his claim to be able to take books out of the library, as the law stated was his right. With her taking back the key, he no longer needed to stay silent on the matter. But he didn¡¯t have the time for this. He needed to get hold of the information he needed right now, not after a protracted dispute he would probably end up losing.


    ¡°Nic,¡± said the librarian in a soft, hushed voice that made him take a step back. Davo, standing behind him, pushed him forward again. ¡°I don¡¯t know what¡¯s going on, but my advice to you would be to maintain a low profile and do nothing to further antagonise the Headmaster.¡± She offered him one arched eyebrow as a sign of her conviction in her words.


    ¡°If I do nothing,¡± said Nic, ¡°someone will most likely be killed.¡±


    He earned himself a second eyebrow salute. ¡°If that is true, you should inform the faculty immediately.¡±


    ¡°The faculty,¡± said Nic in a quiet but steady voice, ¡°will be doing the killing.¡±


    The librarian¡¯s mouth lifted up at the corners. It wasn¡¯t a smile, per se, but it had all the hallmarks.


    ¡°I see. And do you know the method of this murder you claim the teachers will be performing?¡± She pierced his with a look sharper than any knife.


    ¡°Demons,¡± said Davo.


    Her gaze lifted over him and Nic could think again.


    ¡°Demons? Really?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Nic. ¡°It started with Winnum Roke¡¯s dog¡ª¡± He had a lot more to explain but the librarian picked up the book she was working on, turned around and exchanged it for another on the trolley behind her. She normally moved quickly around her base of operations, but this time it took her an inordinate amount of time to return to the front desk. Her face was as smooth and unmarked as fresh vellum.


    ¡°Mr Tutt, you are a student at Ransom, and as such you have the same rights as any other student. Unfortunately, the autobiography you requested is considered a dangerous artefact and under the Libraries Charter does not fall under normal provisions. As stated in Article 8, such artefacts are held in secure locations where they can do least harm.¡±


    Nic¡¯s head swam with the sudden barrage of information. Not just what he was being told, but why? The librarian had basically just confirmed there was a special holding room for books like the autobiography, also implying there were other similar books.


    ¡°This secure location,¡± said Nic, ¡°where is it?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not at liberty to say. But you can be assured it is as secure as it can be while under my purview.¡±


    That could only mean it was somewhere in the library. She was trying to help him, he just wished she could be more direct about it.


    ¡°We need to find the books on Demonology that were in Mr Tenner¡¯s private room, those should still be on the shelves, shouldn¡¯t they?¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± said the librarian. ¡°Only the most dangerous books on demons would be kept in the secure room.¡± There was a very long pause. ¡°Happy reading.¡± She returned to her work and paid Nic no more attention.


    They spent the rest of the afternoon hunting down books and making notes. Fanny was off in his own world, but Davo was happy to help Nic track down the books from Tenner¡¯s room. Nic rifled through them, writing copious notes but not really taking it in. He would need to go through them later and process his thoughts.


    By the time the library closed, Nic and Fanny both had stacks of paper to take home.


    ¡°I think I¡¯ve got what I need,¡± said Fanny as they crossed the quad. ¡°I should be able to pinpoint a Secret Service agent within a ten metres, maybe more if my calculations are right.¡±


    ¡°Forget that,¡± said Nic. ¡°Just make it as sensitive as possible. We need to find a book in the library. One that¡¯s in a secret room.¡±


    The other two looked at Nic in surprise.


    ¡°A book?¡± said Fanny. ¡°What book?¡±


    ¡°One on Winnum Roke, the autobiography I told you about, and some others on Demonology, I think.¡±


    ¡°The librarian?¡± asked Davo.


    ¡°Yeah. We just need to get into the library. After dark, when no one¡¯s about.¡±


    ¡°And how are we supposed to do that when you don¡¯t have a key anymore?¡± asked Davo.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been thinking about that. I think I know someone who can get us in. We just need to find her.¡±


    Fanny returned to the cottage to start working on his book detector. Nic and Davo headed towards the roars.


    There were six separate playing areas marked out in white paint. Different matches, in some cases, different games, were taking place on each. Crowds of students surrounded them, wearing different coloured scarves that corresponded to the jerseys worn by players.


    Nic thought it would be a miracle to find Dizzy here, but everyone seemed to be present and he knew how much she loved games. It turned out not to be difficult at all. She wasn¡¯t watching, she was playing.


    She was heavily involved in a lacrosse match, a game he had read about but never seen in the flesh. It seemed slightly ridiculous, but then he was not the sporty type; never had been. It was a wonder they¡¯d ever been so close.


    He and Davo stood on the sidelines, away from the majority of people. No one paid them any attention, too engaged with cheering and screaming and demanding more.


    It made his heart soar to watch her leap and run and celebrate what he assumed was a goal or a point or whatever it was called. And it made his heart sink to realise how apart from her life he was. And sink even more when he caught sight of the tall boys watching from the crowd. Her friends or cronies or maybe even henchmen.


    When the final whistle blew, he tried to think of a way to approach her without drawing too much attention, but it would have been impossible. She was the centre of attention. She always had been.


    But then she separated from the swarming circle and headed towards him.


    ¡°Is she coming this way?¡± he asked Davo, just to make sure.


    ¡°It does appear so. Looks like she noticed you were here.¡±


    He had his request all worked out and ready to go, until she neared him in sweaty top and tiny skirt. She looked flushed but ridiculously healthy. She glowed.


    ¡°What do you want?¡± Her voice was colder than the chill breeze. ¡°Go away.¡±


    ¡°I need your help.¡±


    ¡°And why would I help you?¡± She looked back, like she was concerned others might see her talking to him.


    ¡°Because you owe me.¡±


    Her head snapped back to face him. ¡°Owe you? How do I owe you?¡±


    Her coldness helped thaw his nerves. She wasn¡¯t the same person he knew a long time ago. He didn¡¯t need to worry about impressing her anymore. He had failed that test already.


    ¡°When we were five, I took a beating for you. You promised me then, if I ever needed a favour from you, I only had to ask. I¡¯m asking now.¡±


    Dizzy¡¯s face screwed up but she forced it back to a neutral position, keeping her mouth hard and straight. ¡°We were kids.¡±


    ¡°Yes. It hurt a lot more then than it would now. You don¡¯t get to ignore your debts because of age. I only need a small favour.¡±


    ¡°What is it?¡± The mouth tried to tighten into an enraged bud, but she flattened it through sheer willpower.


    ¡°I need to get into the school library. Tonight.¡±


    Her eyes widened. ¡°You want me to break into the library?¡±


    ¡°Just get us in, you can go after that.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re crazy. Why would I do that?¡±


    ¡°Because you always pay your debts. You always have. This is the last one you¡¯ll ever owe me.¡±


    She stood there, slightly swaying. She turned around and walked away.


    ¡°Behind the library at nine,¡± he whispered at the retreating figure which didn¡¯t acknowledge him in any way.


    ¡°She¡¯s not coming, is she?¡± said Davo.


    ¡°She¡¯ll be there.¡± He was totally confident. But that didn¡¯t mean he was right.


    They returned to the cottage and Nic rushed up the stairs to talk to Mallory. He was another resource they hadn¡¯t utilised. But the rooms upstairs were empty.


    He went back downstairs to the kitchen. Davo was making food.


    ¡°He¡¯s in there, building¡­ something. Actually willing to miss dinner.¡± Davo nodded sternly, like this was the true sign of the seriousness of the situation. ¡°I¡¯m making him a sandwich like I¡¯m his mother.¡±


    ¡°Or wife,¡± said Nic.


    Davo dropped the bread on the counter. ¡°I¡¯m done here. This is your stupid fault, you make the sandwiches. I¡¯ll take mine with cheese and salad. With pickle.¡± He walked out.


    Nic made the sandwiches. It was the least he could do. Fanny emerged about an hour later with the detector newly painted red with white stripes down the side.


    ¡°Was the paint job necessary?¡± asked Davo.


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Fanny. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t understand. Advanced advanced calculations.¡±


    Davo looked up at the ceiling. ¡°If we fail you, please forgive us, Simole, we tried but we were brutally, brutally handicapped.¡±


    Fanny''s focus remained on his new toy. ¡°It¡¯s so sensitive now, it¡¯ll probably blow up the first time it detects any Arcanum.¡±


    ¡°Well, don¡¯t point it at the Pagoda, then,¡± said Nic.


    The campus was dark and quiet. They got to the library without detection. Once they were round the back, it felt less likely they¡¯d be spotted. The Pagoda loomed over the skeletal trees, windowless and silent.


    Nic optimistically tried the back door, which was firmly locked. The windows on the first two floors had iron bars over them.


    ¡°Is she even coming?¡± whispered Fanny.


    ¡°Even if she does, how do you expect to get in there?¡± added Davo.


    ¡°She¡¯ll find a way,¡± said Nic. ¡°She always does.¡±


    ¡°If she turns up,¡± said Fanny. The branches swayed in the wind but their leaves had all been shaken loose. ¡°All this for a book. Hope it¡¯s worth it. Winnum Roke. I mean, was she even a real person?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°Ignore him,¡± said Davo. ¡°He prattles when he¡¯s nervous.¡±


    ¡°Okay, she was a powerful mage. An archmage, even. But she¡¯s dead now, right? When did she die?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± said Nic. ¡°I¡¯ve never seen a date of death for her.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± said Davo. ¡°Don¡¯t they usually have so and so name, born this day, died this day, don¡¯t they?¡±


    ¡°Usually, but I¡¯ve never seen it for her. In any book. No mention of how she died, either.¡±


    ¡°Maybe she didn¡¯t,¡± said Fanny, his voice rising with excitement. ¡°Maybe she went into hiding. Maybe she¡¯s hiding in plain sight, right under our noses.¡±


    ¡°For a thousand years? I think you¡¯re getting a bit carried away,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°She could be one of the teachers,¡± continued Fanny.


    ¡°Or the Librarian,¡± Davo suddenly interjected.


    ¡°Yeah. Yeah!¡±


    Nic buried his head in his hands, which at least warmed up his face.


    ¡°Why are you all dressed so conspicuously?¡± said Dizzy.


    Nic¡¯s head sprang back up. She was standing in front of him, wearing black from head to foot, skin tight but covered in belts and straps with tools hanging from them. The short jacket over the top had high collars that hid most of her face. The boys were still dressed in their school uniforms, never having even considered changing outfits.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± said Davo. ¡°Not everyone can afford a range of specialised tactical gear for night manoeuvres. We aren¡¯t all the children of wealthy nobles.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± said Dizzy, her haughty expression falling from her face. ¡°Sorry.¡±


    ¡°Ha, you got her good,¡± said Fanny, smirking. ¡°His Dad¡¯s probably twice as rich as yours.¡±


    Davo beamed like it was the best compliment he¡¯d ever received. ¡°At least twice. Nice jacket, by the way. From our winter collection, if I¡¯m not mistaken.¡±


    ¡°Shut up,¡± said Dizzy. She took what looked like a chisel from one of her belts and waved it about. ¡°And if any of you so much as touch me¡­¡±


    ¡°What makes you think we¡¯d do that?¡± blurted out Davo, incensed. ¡°Not everyone here¡¯s madly in love with you. At least fifty percent of us aren¡¯t.¡±


    Fanny looked confused. ¡°Fifty? Who¡¯s the other person? It¡¯s not me, she scares the living snot out of me. Oh, wait, you mean she¡¯s in love with herself. I get it.¡±


    Davo pinched the bridge of his nose. ¡°Brutally, brutally handicapped.¡±


    ¡°Okay, okay,¡± said Nic. ¡°Let¡¯s just get inside.¡±


    They turned towards the library and waited for Dizzy to do whatever it was she was going to do. She did nothing. They threw questioning looks at her.


    ¡°This is stupid,¡± she said.


    ¡°You don¡¯t even know why we¡¯re doing this,¡± said Fanny, trying to be defiant, but coming across as petulant.


    ¡°I don¡¯t care,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°It¡¯s idiotic, whatever the reason.¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t have time for this¡± hissed Nic. ¡°You owe me a favour, that¡¯s all. Pay me back and your debt is settled.¡±


    ¡°No, this isn¡¯t right. We¡¯ll be caught. I don¡¯t even know why I¡¯m here.¡±


    Nic stood up straighter, just about taller than her. ¡°You want to know why you¡¯re here? I¡¯ll tell you. Because this is the most exciting thing you¡¯ve done in the last ten years. You may have taken up with thugs and bullies and other unpleasant people, but that doesn¡¯t change who you are. And I know who you are. You think I don¡¯t? This is me, the boy who feasted on blackberries with you while we were stuck under a bramble bush for a whole day, laughing until we wept. You can return to the life you left me for once you get me inside this building but don¡¯t try to deny what I know to be incontrovertible fact.¡±


    He stepped aside and pointed at the library.


    Dizzy stood there, breathing hard, determinedly refusing to look at Nic. Her eyes darted around the rear of the library. The door, the windows, the roof. She ran forward, jumped up so her foot landed on the ledge running below one of the windows, and then sprang to the side, catching the top of the doorframe with her fingertips.


    She pulled herself up, then grabbed at slight indents between the stonework, crawling her way up the face of the building.


    ¡°She¡¯s good,¡± said Davo.


    ¡°What¡¯s she holding onto?¡± said Fanny.


    In under a minute, she was hanging from the third floor window which had no bars. She pulled herself up and somehow managed to squat on the slender ledge. She worked at the window with a chisel and it sprang open with little effort. She disappeared inside.


    A few minutes later, the back door opened and Dizzy stood there panting with a big smile on her face. ¡°The window wasn¡¯t locked,¡± was the first thing she said once she caught her breath.


    ¡°The librarian must have forgotten,¡± said Fanny. Nic knew there was no way that was true.


    ¡°You¡¯ve done your part,¡± he said to Dizzy. ¡°You can go. We¡¯re quits.¡± They were far from quits, but he had nothing else to keep her here.


    ¡°No,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°I want to see whatever it is you¡¯re doing here.¡±


    ¡°Okay.¡± Nic¡¯s heart nearly punched him in the face. He tried to maintain his calm exterior. ¡°Don¡¯t say I didn¡¯t offer.¡± They entered the library.

 Chapter Eighteen

    The librarian¡¯s office was as neat and proper as always. Not one thing was out of place, so it took Nic no time at all to locate the lamp she kept on the shelf behind her desk.


    Nic had entered the library through this office many times. He had never rummaged through the desk drawers or rifled through the filing cabinets, that would have felt like a transgression, but borrowing the lamp and using a match from the box next to it were acceptable liberties.


    He lit the candle and drew down the hood so the light from the yellow flame became a dim glow.


    ¡°Start in here,¡± he said to Fanny. ¡°But remember to keep your back to the Pagoda.¡±


    Fanny nodded and took out the Arcanum detector, careful to keep it pointing away from the way they¡¯d entered. The Arcanum emanating from the Pagoda had been enough to destroy the detector before, and that was before its sensitivity had been increased.


    Davo stood by the window. His tall, angular frame silhouetted against the square pane of starlit glass seemed far more nervous than his face would suggest. His head batted back and forth between keeping watch and observing Fanny.


    ¡°Is that a herbal detector?¡± asked Dizzy dubiously.


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Fanny, a hint of pride in his voice. ¡°I modified it.¡± He took hold of a wire sticking out of the back of the detector and pulled, lengthening it until it was up by his head. He inserted the end into his ear.


    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± asked Davo.


    ¡°Make it easier to hear the clicks.¡± Fanny raised the detector in front of him and Nic and Dizzy immediately moved to get out of his way.


    Steadily, Fanny waved the small wooden box from side to side, deeply concentrating. He moved it up and down and around, pointing at different parts of the room.


    ¡°Modified it to do what?¡± Dizzy had lowered her voice to offer no distraction, but sounded no less dubious.


    ¡°Detect magic,¡± whispered Nic. ¡°Processed Arcanum, hopefully.¡±


    ¡°That isn¡¯t possible,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°You would need¡ª¡±


    ¡°Simole charged it,¡± said Nic.


    Fanny finished scanning one area and looked up to see where to apply his machine next, his serious demeanour already that of a master detectorist.


    ¡°That was a while ago, though,¡± said Davo. ¡°Are you sure there¡¯s enough power left in there to do this?¡±


    ¡°It was a massive amount of raw Arcanum she put in here.¡± Fanny shook the box like they might be able to hear the Arcanum rattling around inside. ¡°I¡¯m sure it¡¯ll last the night. At least. Pretty sure.¡±


    Davo shook his head. ¡°Why do I get the feeling those words will come back to haunt us?¡±


    Fanny held the detector over the librarian¡¯s desk. ¡°You don¡¯t think there are ghosts in the library, do you?¡±


    ¡°We have far more scary things to worry about than ghosts,¡± said Davo. ¡°Just get on with it before we¡¯re caught and expelled ahead of schedule.¡±


    ¡°What is it you¡¯re looking for?¡± asked Dizzy. ¡°A new species of indoor herb?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m hoping there¡¯s a key in here,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°A magic key?¡± said Dizzy, her tone making it very clear what she thought of the idea.


    ¡°A key that might have traces of Arcanum on it,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°Couldn¡¯t we just search for it the old fashioned way?¡± asked Davo.


    ¡°No,¡± said Nic, more sharply than he intended. Disturbing the carefully arranged private sanctum of the librarian felt wrong. A betrayal.


    Fanny shut one eye and pressed the wire sticking out of his ear so it went further in. He continued scouring the shelves and cabinets. The other three stood back, waiting.


    ¡°This key,¡± said Dizzy, ¡°what will it open?¡±


    ¡°A room,¡± said Nic. ¡°A secure room where they keep special books. Most libraries have them.¡±


    ¡°This one doesn¡¯t,¡± said Dizzy.


    ¡°And you know that for a fact, do you?¡± said Davo.


    Dizzy folded her arms and looked from Davo to Nic. ¡°So all this is for a book?¡±


    ¡°This is all to save someone¡¯s life,¡± said Nic, and immediately regretted saying the words out loud. They sounded ridiculous. Did he even have any proof Simole¡¯s life was at risk? And even if it was, what made him think he should be the one to save her? The whole thing was preposterous from start to end. And yet, the danger he sensed felt no less present. It was right there.


    ¡°Simole?¡± asked Dizzy. ¡°She¡¯s got herself in some stupid predicament and you¡¯re going to rush in and save her? You?¡± She was voicing his thoughts like she¡¯d read them off the top of his head.


    ¡°Not me. The book.¡±


    ¡°What book?¡±


    ¡°The autobiography of Winnum Roke,¡± said Davo. ¡°Perhaps you¡¯ve heard of her?¡±


    ¡°Of course I¡¯ve heard of her,¡± Dizzy snapped.


    ¡°No,¡± said Nic, ¡°not that one.¡±


    ¡°No?¡± said Davo, surprised. ¡°Then which book are we looking for?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m¡­ not sure. But the librarian said we¡¯d find it in the room with the autobiography. Don¡¯t you remember? You were there when she said it.¡±


    Davo rubbed his chin thoughtfully. ¡°She said there were books on Demonology, but she didn¡¯t say they would help us save Simole.¡±


    ¡°Yes, she did. I mean, she didn¡¯t say it like that, but that¡¯s what she meant.¡± He sounded desperate, even to himself.


    Davo softened his voice, as though he recognised the fragile place his friend had placed himself. ¡°Even if we find the right book, do you really think you can learn enough in a night to challenge Tenner? He¡¯s been studying this stuff his whole life.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t need to match his knowledge,¡± said Nic. ¡°It¡¯s a lot easier to break things than build them. He might have taken a lifetime to figure out how to open a door to the Other Place, but we only need to find a key step in the process and stick a spanner in it. If we can disrupt the procedure before he can complete it, he¡¯ll fail to connect and the door will stay closed.¡±


    ¡°And in the meantime,¡± said Davo, ¡°Simole could already be dead.¡±


    Nic bowed his head. ¡°Yes. But I don¡¯t think so. Everything I¡¯ve read about this kind of transformation has said its slow. And painful. We have time.¡±


    What he said was true, he had read about this kind of thing and the victims didn¡¯t die instantly; it was long and drawn out. But he had only read about it in fairy tales. Although, to be fair, they were fairly tales written by Winnum Roke.


    ¡°Tenner?¡± said Dizzy. ¡°Are you talking about Mr Tenner, the Arcanum tutor?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Davo. ¡°Arcanum and Demonology. He¡¯s got Simole.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s ridiculous,¡± said Dizzy, too flustered to say anything else. The look in her eyes suggested she was starting to regret coming on this particular adventure.


    ¡°There¡¯s nothing here,¡± said Fanny emphatically. ¡°I don¡¯t think so, anyway,¡± he added somewhat less emphatically.


    ¡°Okay, let¡¯s try out there.¡± Nic opened the office door, glad for the change of scenery. The office was small and they were too close together for comfort. The others filed past him into the main floor of the library.


    Fanny raised the detector and swung it in a wide arc. Nic rushed forward and grabbed Fanny¡¯s arm, restricting his movements.


    ¡°Careful,¡± said Nic. ¡°Pagoda.¡± He nodded over his shoulder at the looming shape in the window behind him.


    Fanny nodded and made smaller arcs as he walked across the library, the other three behind him.


    ¡°The girl must mean a lot to you,¡± said Dizzy, her effort at nonchalance quite convincing.


    ¡°She means a lot to all of us,¡± said Davo. ¡°That¡¯s how friendship works.¡± He let his words hang in the air. Nic could tell there would soon be a combustion between them, like between two volatile gasses, but didn¡¯t know what to do about it.


    Fanny stopped in the middle of the library and pointed the detector higher. ¡°I¡¯m getting something. Faint. I think we need to go up a floor.¡±


    They marched up the stairs, Fanny leading the way.


    ¡°This is going to take all night,¡± said Dizzy irritably. ¡°And that¡¯s if the room even exists.¡±


    ¡°You can always leave, if you don¡¯t feel up to it,¡± suggested Davo, affecting a couldn¡¯t care less manner designed to infuriate her further.


    ¡°Another floor,¡± said Fanny, holding the detector over his head. Dizzy stomped past him and headed up the stairs.


    ¡°She¡¯s right about one thing,¡± said Davo. ¡°This could take all night. Are you sure it wouldn¡¯t be better to try something else?¡±


    ¡°Like what?¡± said Nic.


    ¡°Like what Fanny suggested, painful as it is for me to say those words.¡±


    ¡°I heard that,¡± said Fanny from further up the staircase.


    Davo ignored the interruption. ¡°Contact the Secret Service, let them handle it.¡±Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    Nic exhaled through his nose, the sound amplified by the closeness of the walls. ¡°I don¡¯t think so. Even if we did manage to track them down, I don¡¯t think they¡¯d be able to do much. They know she can make herself impossible to find if she wants. That¡¯s what Tenner was counting on. And they¡¯re not going to break into the Pagoda on our say so. At best, they¡¯ll wait till tomorrow and talk to Tenner about it, and he¡¯s hardly going to admit to anything. This way, if there is an answer, we can stop Tenner¡¯s plan before he has a chance to get very far into it.¡±


    ¡°No offence, Nic, but it sounds a bit like you¡¯re reaching beyond your grasp.¡±


    ¡°Yes. I am, I guess. But I¡¯ll know for sure once we get inside the room. I shouldn¡¯t take too long to find out if there¡¯s a book in there that can help. And if not...¡± He didn¡¯t finish because he didn¡¯t know.


    ¡°What about Mistress Delcroix? Couldn¡¯t her father help?¡±


    Nic smiled and exhaled another noisy breath. ¡°Perhaps, but there¡¯s no way she¡¯d ask him for help. Ever.¡±


    ¡°You realise,¡± said Davo, ¡°as soon as we leave here, she¡¯s probably going to report us in exchange for a gold star or whatever they hand out to reward good behaviour.¡±


    ¡°She wouldn¡¯t do that,¡± said Nic, utterly shocked by the idea.


    ¡°No, of course not. Because you ate berries under a bush once.¡±


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t just that,¡± said Nic, a moment of fond recollection crossing his face. ¡°I got stuck under a wicked bramble for reasons that are too¡­ complicated to go into, and she thought it was hilarious. I couldn¡¯t move without gouging myself, it was horrible. I was covered in bloody scratches and unable to go forward or backwards. She could have gone for help, or cut the thing down herself, but she didn¡¯t. She crawled in there beside me, just so I wouldn¡¯t be alone.¡±


    ¡°That,¡± said Davo, ¡°is the stupidest thing I¡¯ve ever heard.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Nic agreed. ¡°It is.¡±


    They reached the next floor. Fanny had the detector pointed at the ceiling. ¡°Up there. Next floor.¡±


    There were no more stairs.


    ¡°I¡¯ve told him,¡± said Dizzy, ¡°you can¡¯t go any higher.¡±


    ¡°Maybe on the roof?¡± said Nic.


    ¡°This is as high as it goes,¡± said Dizzy, ¡°unless you think the books you¡¯re looking for are on the roof, out in the open.¡±


    Fanny¡¯s face reddened in the candlelight. ¡°There could be a¡ª¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said Dizzy, cutting him off. ¡°You can see the library roof from the top of the School Pavilion. It¡¯s flat and empty.¡±


    ¡°Just because you haven¡¯t seen something, doesn¡¯t mean it¡¯s not there,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been here five years, I think I would have noticed a secret bunker on top of a completely flat roof.¡±


    ¡°Are you really Ransom¡¯s smartest pupil?¡± said Davo. ¡°It¡¯s not a hard concept to grasp. If you see it, that means it exists. If you don¡¯t see it, that doesn¡¯t mean it doesn¡¯t exist. You have to be willing to investigate further.¡±


    Nic could tell Davo was desperately hoping there was a secret room just to prove his point, and that Dizzy was desperately hoping the opposite. It almost made him smile.


    Fanny walked around with the detector held high as possible. He went back and forth, slowly closing in on an area in the far corner. ¡°Here.¡±


    Nic slid the hood off the candle so the light illuminated the room more fully. He knew there was a danger they would be noticed from outside, but there was little choice. They all looked up at the whitewashed ceiling.


    ¡°Can you see that hole?¡± said Davo. They all strained.


    ¡°Isn¡¯t it a speck of dust or something?¡± asked Fanny.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think the librarian allows them,¡± said Davo.


    ¡°I see it,¡± said Nic. ¡°It¡¯s a hole. A really small hole. It could be a keyhole.¡± He looked around at the others. ¡°A really small keyhole.¡±


    Davo and Fanny didn¡¯t look convinced but Dizzy said, ¡°Wait here,¡± and ran down the stairs.


    They waited, as instructed, shrugging at each other. A few moments later she came running back carrying a stick. It was very thin and about the length of her arm.


    ¡°I told you, I¡¯ve been here five years. I notice things.¡± She flicked the stick and it extended to twice its length. ¡°I always wondered what this was for.¡± She flicked it again and it grew by another third. It was long enough to reach the hole in the ceiling and the pointed tip appeared to be the right size to fit.


    Everyone stepped aside as Dizzy went to the far wall and raised her arm over her shoulder, prodding the stick at the hole. After three failed attempts, it slotted into the hole and there was a click. A square outline appeared, emitting faint light and a flap dropped, making them all rush back in case something fell on their heads. There was a metallic whoosh as a ladder slid down. The bottom rung stopped just before it hit the floor.


    Fanny pointed the detector at the much larger hole in the ceiling which now showed the night sky, and nodded. They stood there looking at each other and then Nic and Dizzy stepped forward at the same time, almost bumping into each other.


    ¡°Ladies first,¡± said Davo drily.


    ¡°But I have the light,¡± said Nic, holding up the lamp with the hood drawn over it again. Dizzy handed him the stick and took the lamp from him. She went up first.


    Nic dropped the stick and hurried after her, careful to not let his fingers get trodden.


    He came up into a small room with glass walls. It was a dome that covered the middle part of the roof and was empty apart from a little table. Nic looked at the tabletop, inlaid with curling patterns of ivory and silver, and at the two books resting on it. One was the autobiography of Winnum Roke, the other was the book of myths and legends written by her alter ego, Wink Monroe. There were no other books in sight.


    Fanny and Davo emerged and looked around in wonder. They were under the open sky, but no wind or chill touched them.


    Dizzy had a hand pressed against the glass wall, peering through it like she wasn¡¯t sure it was there.


    Nic opened the book on fairy tales.


    ¡°These are the only two books?¡± asked Davo.


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°Unless there¡¯s another secret room even more secret than this one.¡±


    ¡°Do you think you could restrain the sneering for a moment?¡± said Davo, barely restraining his own. ¡°We have to think what to do next.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not sneering. But there doesn¡¯t seem to be very much special about those two books, does there?¡±


    Davo didn¡¯t say anything, most likely, Nic guessed, because he agreed.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know about the autobiography,¡± continued Dizzy, ¡°but I have a copy of the other one at my house.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re both by Winnum Roke, aren¡¯t they?¡± said Fanny. ¡°That must mean something. Maybe she is still alive. Maybe she¡¯s the person we have to find and the clues are in these two books.¡±


    ¡°You think she¡¯s alive after a thousand years?¡± said Dizzy contemptuously. ¡°Are you an idiot?¡±


    Davo still didn¡¯t say anything. Most likely, Nic guessed, because he agreed with her on this point also.


    ¡°There¡¯s no record of her dying,¡± said Fanny. ¡°Look in her autobiography.¡±


    Dizzy pulled a face of utter disdain. ¡°It¡¯s an autobiography. That means she wrote it herself. How could she write about her own death?¡±


    ¡°Magic,¡± said Fanny defiantly, which was a reasonable point.


    ¡°Wait,¡± said Nic. ¡°This book, this is handwritten and drawn.¡± He had the Tales of Myth and Legend in his hands. It had a very different feel to any version of the book he¡¯d held before. He thrust it at Fanny. ¡°Does it register Arcanum?¡±


    Fanny pointed the detector at it and instantly reared back, wincing. He yanked the wire from his ear. ¡°Yeah. Big time.¡±


    Nic flicked through the pages. It didn¡¯t seem like an otherworldly tome. No crackles of magic between page flips, no tingle of eldritch forces at play.


    ¡°What does it do?¡± he wondered out loud.


    ¡°I think that¡¯s for you to find out,¡± said a soft voice from behind them.


    They all turned, startled and huddling together despite their differences, to find the librarian standing there, tall and unwavering, her glasses hanging on a chain around her neck.


    ¡°You weren¡¯t there a moment ago,¡± said Davo, a finger pointing accusingly, his other hand over his wildly beating heart.


    ¡°I was always here,¡± said the librarian. She took a step to the side and disappeared.


    Nic and the others moved closer and around to the side. The librarian was sitting on a stool in an alcove. ¡°In a country built on magic, a simple trick with mirrors.¡± She stood and waved her hand around. ¡°All this is hidden in plain sight.¡±


    ¡°Are there more books here?¡± asked Nic. ¡°Hidden in plain sight?¡±


    ¡°No. Just those two.¡±


    ¡°Are you Winnum Roke?¡± blurted out Fanny.


    The librarian¡¯s normally impassive features downturned into a momentary frown. ¡°Exactly how old do you think I am?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t answer,¡± Davo muttered from the side of his mouth. ¡°It¡¯s a trick question.¡±


    ¡°No, I¡¯m not Winnum Roke.¡± The librarian reasserted her stone-like composure. ¡°Although I often wished I was when I was younger; as do most girls who are aware of what she accomplished, wouldn¡¯t you say, Miss Delcroix?¡±


    Dizzy scowled. ¡°I prefer to be myself.¡±


    ¡°Of course. Well, those of us not quite so gifted see Winnum Roke as something of a role model. She was a great woman.¡±


    ¡°Is she dead?¡± asked Nic.


    ¡°I think so. No one really knows. The mages from back then were transmuters and summoners of accomplishment, routinely modifying their own forms, and commanding the denizens of the Other Place. It¡¯s hard to know what she was capable of. But she left these books¡ªno others, just these two¡ªfor when they¡¯d be needed. She didn¡¯t explain how or by whom. Each Ransom librarian has taken on the role of watching over them until the time was right. That time would appear to be now.¡±


    ¡°Couldn¡¯t you just have told us all this and shown us the books yourself?¡± said Davo. ¡°Instead of making us go through all this?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t know how closely they were watching you. I waited here to see if you¡¯d be followed. It appears they don¡¯t consider you a very great threat.¡±


    ¡°Who doesn¡¯t?¡± said Dizzy, sounding as exasperated as Davo. ¡°Who are ¡®they¡¯.¡±


    The librarian shrugged and there was a glimmer of a smile across her lips. ¡°Do you know the true history of Ranvar? Our lands are small but rich in mines and minerals. There has always been war here and in the wreckage of each aftermath, all control was temporary, all authority fleeting. Until, that is, Arcanum was learned and peace and prosperity were established. Archmage Roke warned against too much reliance on magic. One day the owners of the power the mages wield so freely will return to reclaim what was theirs, but¡­ it¡¯s hard to heed a warning when you don¡¯t know if it is due in a year or ten thousand. Especially when the benefits are so vast.¡±


    ¡°What do the books do?¡± Nic held up the Tales of Myth and Legend. ¡°This one¡¯s giving off Arcanum, but there aren¡¯t any spells in here, are there?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said the librarian. ¡°Many have tried to decrypt the meaning in those stories, but it has never seemed more than simple tales for children. Perhaps you can find something others have missed.¡±


    ¡°But we don¡¯t have time,¡± said Nic, growing ever more so frustrated. He had risked everything on finding an answer here, but this wasn¡¯t the answer he¡¯d been looking for. He didn¡¯t want more puzzles. He didn¡¯t want history lessons. He wanted a solution, a way to stop Tenner.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± said the librarian. ¡°This is all there is.¡±


    Nic looked at the book cover. There was an outline of an animal that most people thought was a wolf or some demonic beast, but which he knew to be a harmless pet dog.


    Were there really answers in here? Could he find them before it was too late?


    Fanny suddenly leapt in the air, his body twisting and spasming like he¡¯d been blasted by an unseen force. He recovered almost instantly and peered around guiltily. The others looked at him with questioning eyes.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± said Fanny with an embarrassed frown. ¡°I accidentally pointed the detector at the Pagoda. Thought it might blow up again.¡±


    The top of the Pagoda was peeking down at them from across the way.


    ¡°Is it broken?¡± asked Davo.


    Fanny¡¯s eyes darted around the box, looking for signs of damage. ¡°No. Actually, it isn¡¯t.¡± He put the wire back in his ear and pointed it at the book in Nic¡¯s hands. ¡°Working fine. Close call.¡±


    Nic walked over to him and grabbed the box from his hand. He pointed it directly at the Pagoda.


    Fanny threw his hands up and pulled the wire from his ear, both eyes squeezed shut and braced for a sonic punch. One eye re-opened and he reinserted the wire. ¡°Nothing.¡±


    Nic turned to the librarian. ¡°Do these walls block Arcanum?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said the librarian.


    There was a loud bang, followed by a series of sharp cracks as sparks flew from the Pagoda¡¯s eaves, lighting it up from top to bottom. Lightning raced up its shaft and smoke wafted up in a large bloom.


    Nic threw the box at Fanny, turned and ran. He jumped down the ladder, his hands burning as they slid along the sides. He sprinted and jumped down the stairs, through the back office and out into the night air. The chill hit him like a slap but he ignored it. He ran all the way to the Pagoda, stumbling a little in his haste.


    The large seamless door was open. Davo and Dizzy caught up to him as he pushed the heavy door wider. It had opened effortlessly last time he was here, but now it was leaden. He entered the gloomy interior. He didn¡¯t bother to wait for a guide, he doubted one would come. He knew where the stairs were.


    He raced down them, the lit sconces guttering in and out of life. He came to a familiar antechamber and opened the door to the next room. There was the chair the old man had been in. Only there wasn¡¯t an old man there now, there was a young woman, sitting limp, head fallen forward.


    Nic lifted Simole¡¯s head. Her eyes were open but lifeless.


    He listened for a heartbeat, felt for a pulse, but found neither. There was no breath from her mouth. Her skin had an ashen pallor and she was cold to the touch.

 Chapter Nineteen

    ¡°Hmm,¡± said Simole. ¡°This doesn¡¯t look good.¡±


    ¡°Well, obviously,¡± said Davo. He put his hands in his pockets and leaned against the wall next to the smouldering fireplace. ¡°The boy¡¯s in bed leaking Arcanum out of every orifice. Hardly a healthy position to be in.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t mean that,¡± said Simole. ¡°You don¡¯t end up with that much Arcanum in you by accident. It doesn¡¯t just leap inside your body because you happen to stroll past.¡±


    ¡°So?¡± Davo pushed himself off the wall and straightened up, taking his hands out of his pockets, his face strained and eager. ¡°What does that mean? How did he end up so full of the stuff.¡±


    ¡°Somebody put it in him,¡± said Simole. ¡°I don¡¯t think it was an accident at all.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s going to be alright, though,¡± said Fanny. ¡°Isn¡¯t he?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Davo. ¡°Of course. Probably.¡±


    ¡°I think Mr Tenner has a lot of explaining to do,¡± said Simole. ¡°I think I might have a word with him.¡±


    ¡°Look,¡± said Davo, ¡°do we really need to stir things up any more than they are already? Whatever happened, I doubt giving this particular hornet¡¯s nest a kick will produce anything but regrettable results.¡±


    Simole nodded thoughtfully. ¡°Yes. You¡¯re right.¡±


    ¡°I am?¡± said Davo, surprised by the ease of his success.


    ¡°He is?¡± Fanny asked for the same reasons.


    ¡°Yes. You should stay out of this. Keep an eye on Nic, or whoever that is.¡±


    ¡°What does that mean?¡± said Davo. ¡°You don¡¯t think that¡¯s Nic?¡±


    ¡°Who is it then?¡± asked Fanny.


    ¡°I¡¯m not saying it isn¡¯t, I¡¯m just not sure. The other thing such a large dose of Arcanum does to a person, apart from killing them, is shield them from prying eyes. There¡¯s no way to look inside Nic¡¯s head to see if it¡¯s really him. Or if he¡¯s alone in there.¡±


    ¡°You can do that?¡± asked Fanny, blushing hard. ¡°You can look inside people¡¯s heads? Can you read their thoughts?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said Simole. ¡°I¡¯m not a carnival sideshow. But I can sense presences. People tend to have a specific¡­ feel to them. I¡¯m not sure how to explain it.¡±


    ¡°But this is all conjecture and supposition, isn¡¯t it?¡± said Davo. ¡°You don¡¯t know any of this for sure.¡±


    ¡°No, not for sure,¡± Simole admitted with a slight shrug. ¡°But I have enough suspicions to warrant a visit to the Pagoda and see what¡¯s going on in there.¡±


    Both boys reacted with startled expressions.


    ¡°Woah, there,¡± said Davo. ¡°No one said anything about breaking into the Pagoda.¡±


    ¡°How else are we going to find out what happened to Nic?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± said Davo, throwing up his hands, ¡°wait till he¡¯s better and ask him?¡±


    Simole shook her head and looked off to the side. Their shared concern had brought them together, but now she regretted not maintaining her distance. She wasn¡¯t used to interacting like this. Their concern was both irritating and strangely endearing.


    ¡°He probably has less idea than us. He¡¯s all over the place. Doesn¡¯t know where he is, or who he is. If we want to help him, we need to know what the threat is. Trust me, this is what I¡¯ve been trained for.¡±


    ¡°What does that mean?¡± said Davo.


    ¡°Why were you trained to find threats?¡± said Fanny. ¡°Are you some kind of government assassin?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said Simole. Both boys looked unconvinced. ¡°It¡¯s not important. The first thing to do is check out the Pagoda.¡±


    ¡°Reconnaissance,¡± said Fanny.


    ¡°Right,¡± said Simole. ¡°Have a look around and leave without Tenner knowing I was ever there.¡±


    ¡°Because it¡¯ll be that simple,¡± said Davo. ¡°You don¡¯t think Tenner has the Pagoda locked up tight?¡±


    ¡°Couldn¡¯t we report Tenner to someone?¡± asked Fanny.


    Davo tilted his head from side to side. ¡°I¡¯m not even sure what it is we¡¯re accusing him of. What exactly are we accusing him of?¡±


    Simole shrugged. ¡°That¡¯s what I want to find out. Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯m sure I can get into the Pagoda without much trouble.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s exactly what I am worried about. I know you have abilities beyond the norm, but it¡¯s still incredibly risky. To the point of being reckless. A lot could go wrong. A lot. Far be it for me to throw around my risk assessment training at a time like this, but on a purely practical level, what you¡¯re considering is, to use the technical term, bonkers.¡±


    ¡°Bonkers,¡± agreed Fanny.


    ¡°I can see why you might think that, but it¡¯s not so crazy. I can hold my own against someone like Tenner.¡±


    ¡°Why are you even here, Simole?¡± asked Davo, exasperated at common sense being ignored so wilfully. ¡°Someone like you shouldn¡¯t be at a school with regular children.¡±


    ¡°These aren¡¯t regular children,¡± Simole pointed out.


    ¡°No. But there¡¯s no one like you here.¡±


    ¡°Lucky for you there is.¡±


    Davo frowned. ¡°I¡¯m sure. You like your secrets, you and Nic.¡±


    ¡°Sometimes it¡¯s the best way to protect people.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Davo. ¡°And sometimes it¡¯s a way of preventing people telling you how idiotic you¡¯re being.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll be fine,¡± said Simole. ¡°I know what I¡¯m doing.¡±


    Davo and Fanny exchanged a look and shuddered in unison. Simole flicked her finger at the fireplace and the fire roared back into life.


    Neither boy tried to dissuade her further, but she could tell they both disapproved of her plan. It was a mixture of the ominous nature of the Pagoda and the condition Nic was in. He was delirious and, according to the doctor, lucky to be alive. Whatever Tenner was up to, it clearly wasn¡¯t good for the health.


    They were right to be wary, but Simole was not the average student when it came to this kind of situation. Her father had prepared her for exactly this kind of vague threat. She knew the signs and appreciated the risks. She also found it hard to shake the feeling there was something more to it than scuppering the chances of a promising student the school didn¡¯t like. She had been taught to trust those instincts.


    ¡°I should be back in a bit,¡± she said.


    ¡°And if you aren¡¯t?¡± asked Davo.


    ¡°Then whatever you do, don¡¯t come looking for me.¡±


    Both boys nodded.


    She left through her bedroom window. It was dark and no one was around, but she felt better not walking out the front door. The moment her feet touched the dry, prickly grass that grew around the cottage, a cloak of darkness swarmed over her.


    It was a cloak that was only visible to those adept at seeing Arcanum manifested in physical form. Anyone with a keen eye and deliberate purpose would see her standing there in the milky light of the half-moon, but not many would know to look. The Arcanum drew prying eyes away, seeing past her and around her without realising a girl travelled in its midst.


    It was a simple spell and one that took little concentration to maintain. A vigorous search by experienced mages would quickly reveal her presence, but even her father, who had taught her the spell, would be hard put to notice her if he wasn¡¯t actively looking for her.


    The teachers at Ransom, many of whom she knew had magical ability, would fare less well. And the Secret Service, who used devices built to augment their meagre abilities, would have to form a web of intercepting probes and locate her by triangulation, and then hope to get lucky.


    Her training since childhood had been to prepare her for exactly such missions, although her father had probably not expected her to be carrying them out so far from home, or so far from him.


    She set off across the campus with a thrill of excitement. Using her abilities in the way she had been taught, even though she had often resented her relentless tutelage, gave her a sense of purpose. She had a goal, an objective. She would use her skills to achieve that objective. The idea was satisfying.


    Which was odd because that was exactly what she had hated about her upbringing. Her father had often referred to her as a girl with a purpose, but from his lips the words had sounded like a cage placed around her. It wasn¡¯t that she didn¡¯t want direction in life, it was just that she didn¡¯t want the direction he had set out for her.


    The campus was more or less deserted. She saw a couple of school porters rushing around on some business or other. She ignored them and they were unaware of her.


    A night bird called in a warbling hoot. It was no more aware of her than the porters. Something small shrieked in the bushes off to her left and wings beat and thrashed for a second before stillness returned.


    She reached the library in a few minutes and made her way to the rear. The Pagoda seemed to spring up in front of her out of nowhere and at the same time gave the impression it had always been there, waiting for her.


    She hurried across the small open area to where the trees crowded around the Pagoda¡¯s base. There were few leaves left on the branches which formed a circle of dark fingers parted by a thin path.


    There was no sound from within, no lights and no movement. She stopped at the door and placed a hand on the smooth, cold surface. It wasn¡¯t like any door she had seen or touched before. There was no handle and no hinges. It could have been a black square painted on a wall.


    Simole closed her eyes and let the nerves in her fingertips enter the cool metal under them, and let the metal enter her. She sensed how thick the door was, how it hung on pins on the reverse side and the lever that connected the two. She let her mind reach further. The emptiness of the Pagoda startled her. It was almost entirely hollow with a central shaft running down the middle. She followed the shaft down and down. It seemed to go on forever. Certainly deeper than she had expected. But it wasn¡¯t just the shaft, the walls of the Pagoda also carried on. The Pagoda wasn¡¯t a structure sitting on top of the ground, it was inserted into the earth, the visible part the tip of a much larger structure. And the further down it went, the more solid the contents enclosed by it became. It possessed a piercing solidity that numbed her thoughts and made it hard to focus.


    Simole shook her head as though waking from an unscheduled nap.Whatever was down there, it wasn¡¯t just a few rooms of laboratory equipment.


    She cleared her mind and reached for the pins with her fingertips. Her hand looked the same, but felt like her fingers were extending in and through the door. Easing the pins up and out of their sockets was a simple task. Behind her, the last of the leaves curled up and fell to the ground to join their scattered siblings. The door made no sound as it swung away from her, gliding open.


    Simole paused to listen. Behind her the wind had stilled, the birdcalls were silent. She entered and closed the door. It closed easily and quietly.


    The darkness inside was broken by glimmers of light seeping in through gaps in the Pagodas walls. It wasn¡¯t really light, just less intense darkness. It didn¡¯t illuminate the interior as much as give it an outline.


    Nothing moved in that hollow shape, no man, woman or insect. Simole made her way to the stairs leading down, careful to make no sound and disturb the air as little as possible. Not even the dusty ground marked her passing.


    The stairs started broad and narrowed as she descended. The air thickened with Arcanum so it became harder to think clearly; her senses were all pushed back inside herself. She went slowly touching the fingertips of her left hand very lightly on the wall. She felt the pocked surface bump against her skin. Voices echoed, quarrelling somewhere below.


    The curling steps revealed flames flickering in sconces that showed her the spiral falling ahead of her. There was a small room at the bottom, empty save for a simple table and a wooden door at the far end.


    The door had a simple latch and handle. It creaked when she opened it, scratched at the ground. There was a tunnel with many doors. She followed the voices, muffled and indistinct so it could have been one person arguing with himself, and stopped as she approached the final door.


    She leaned forward to hear better.


    ¡°You may enter,¡± said a high pitched voice that could have been either male or female.


    Simole froze, unsure if the voice was speaking to her. She assumed it was, but it would have been an embarrassing mistake if her assumption turned out to be wrong. She remained on her side of the closed door.


    The door sprang open and Mr Tenner stood there. He peered straight ahead, straight through her. Then his eyes widened, the pupils dilating as though adjusting to the dark and finally he saw her standing right in front of him.


    ¡°Simole! You made it.¡± He smiled like a host welcoming an expected guest. ¡°Come in, come in.¡±


    She didn¡¯t fear him but was unhappy at having lost her disguise so soon. She could have retreated immediately and considered doing so for a second, but only a second. Tenner stepped aside and she walked into a small room with a burning hearth.


    There was a man in a large chair. He was dignified, elderly and well dressed. And he was also none of those things.


    ¡°This is Professor Veristotle,¡± said Tenner. ¡°An old friend.¡±


    There was an urge to sink down to her knees that she resisted. It wrenched at her body which only made her reject it more fiercely.


    ¡°I am not Veristotle,¡± said the man who was not a man. His voice was soft. ¡°I am¡­¡± He used words she had never heard before. The sound of them came into her mind and settled there like a hen settling on a clutch of eggs. It wasn¡¯t unpleasant but it quickly became stifling. She couldn¡¯t stop listening.


    The turmoil of her mind quieted and she felt as though she were lifted. The words raised her up. She forced her hands to cover her ears but it made no difference; that wasn¡¯t where the words entered.


    The words didn¡¯t stop, but the act of defiance was enough to break the spell, if only for a moment. Then she saw the true form of the man. She saw a woman, bent over and naked, her small breasts hanging empty. She was bald and her skin scarred. Her joints seemed swollen and her limbs thin as twigs. The pale eyes looked up at her.


    ¡°You resist well,¡± said the demon, for she knew what it was now.


    ¡°Why are you here?¡± she asked it. She should have been afraid, her father had told her what these creatures were capable of, what they were prepared to do if they caught whiff of a lie or untruth. But her curiosity squatted on her fear and flattened it.The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    ¡°I will tell you, Child of the Dragon. It doesn¡¯t matter whether I tell you or not. You cannot change what will be. But I desire to know things from you and it is only right I offer the same in return.¡±


    ¡°Old Mother,¡± said Tenner sounding alarmed, ¡°the girl isn¡¯t worthy.¡±


    The demon held up a withered hand. ¡°The child stinks of dragon dung the likes of which I haven¡¯t smelled in centuries. It is pleasant to my senses. She is far more worthy than you think, wizardling.¡±


    ¡°I used to muck out the stables,¡± said Simole without being prompted.


    ¡°An honour, to be sure. Such a shame the dragons you have are so weak and stringy. Have you ever seen a shadow dragon? No, of course you haven¡¯t. Glorious dark beasts that ruled the never-sky. One of them was worth four of yours, and yet the Great War was lost. No use if one of yours is worth four of theirs and they bring five. Numbers, that is where you had the advantage, and we the power, until it was stolen from us. Do you know the true history of Ranvar?¡± asked the demon.


    ¡°Doesn¡¯t everyone believe their version of history is the true version?¡± asked Simole in return.


    ¡°That holds some truth, but my truth was not given to me second hand. I lived through it.¡±


    ¡°I doubt that makes a difference,¡± said Simole.


    The demon smiled. ¡°You are a confident one. You think you know enough, but you know too little to know what you should fear.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Simole. ¡°That¡¯s how I was raised.¡±


    ¡°I recall the first days of the Kingdom of Ranvar when it was no more than a mountain surrounded by more powerful enemies. The blood flowed freely as men fought for the mountain, for the mine burrowed into its heart. They dug for Arcanum.¡±


    ¡°They mined Arcanum?¡± said Tenner. ¡°Arcanum was a mineral?¡±


    ¡°You are surprised, wizardling? Did you think it grew on trees? It was an ugly rock that sat inert in the bowels of a single mountain. So it would have stayed if not for three vile humans who brokered a deal they refused to keep. The transformation of a simple hill into an empire. And our reward for this great gift we bestowed? Banishment.¡±


    ¡°But you lost the Great War,¡± said Simole, ¡°isn¡¯t that defeat rather than banishment?¡± She had never heard mention of any Great War before that moment but she didn¡¯t doubt it had taken place, and that grudges were still held.


    ¡°Yes,¡± said the demon. ¡°The War was lost. But not the battle. That is what I recall. And what do you recall?¡±


    Simole recalled.


    The sun shone through the tall, narrow windows in the Old Hall. Simole sat at the long table that once seated kings and queens, but now only served two of no royal bloodline.


    The castle was dreadfully cold and drafty. The sun danced around from one side to the other and Simole had to constantly move from room to room to catch the gently warming rays on her face.


    Whoever built the monstrosity on top of a mountain must have had arteries filled with fire to stand the endless chill. The air was thin and carried no weight, like watery wine. They must have also had the constitution of bears to carry cut stone up from the valley and place them one on top of the other without mortar, carefully and closely.


    Towers had been constructed later, five of them. Presumably to get a better view of an empty sky. Kings came and went. One added a ringed wall like a crown for a bald head, another a kitchen to feed hundreds. The Banquet Hall, the refectory, the Hall of Honors (or Hall of Horrors as Simole had dubbed it for the ghastly paintings of past monarchs in all their sinister splendour). The Archmage King, she knew, had built the dragon stables. That was centuries ago, some point in time when legend and history blurred.


    As a symbol of dogged human determination, it was a magnificent monument. As a home, it was far from cosy.


    She heard the large iron doors open behind her but the sun was on her face and she was loathe to turn her head. She already knew who it was. How could she not? She kept her eyes shut lest her eyelids miss out on the little warmth she had access to.


    ¡°Why aren¡¯t you studying?¡± asked her father. His voice rang with severe authority.


    ¡°I¡¯m bored of studying,¡± said Simole. ¡°I already know far more than any girl my age. And far less.¡±


    ¡°A great mage is not defined by the knowledge he holds. Knowing your opponents weakness is a greater weapon than the mightiest spell. That¡¯s the art: what to do and when to do it. The rest is nothing, meaningless ritual and mystery-making and superstitious gibberish.¡±


    There was long sigh from Simole.


    ¡°You are no longer a child, Simole,¡± her father chided. ¡°You¡¯re nearly thirteen. In many nations, that¡¯s when a girl is considered a woman, ready to be wed and mother a child.¡±


    ¡°Sounds good,¡± said Simole, ¡°but I possess such little grace or wit. Who¡¯d have me?¡±


    ¡°Anyone I ordered to,¡± said her father.


    She opened her eyes and finally turned her head to face her father, the Archmage. ¡°Was it your romantic side that convinced Mother to marry you?¡±


    ¡°Your mother did as she was told and so will you. The fate of the world depends on it.¡±


    It never impressed her when he became bombastic and overly dramatic in his speech. He did it so often and without evidence, as far as she could tell.


    ¡°Yes, I know. ¡®She is coming.¡¯ Whatever that means.¡±


    ¡°You need only do what I have trained you to do. The rest¡ª¡±


    ¡°The rest is a big secret. Shhh, the walls might be listening.¡±


    The Archmage¡¯s large, round shoulders sagged. ¡°If I keep things from you, it is only for your own protection.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± said Simole. ¡°A blindfold to keep my eyes nice and safe.¡±


    The Archmage shook his head. ¡°I understand you are at an awkward age and I should be more sensitive to your moods, but unfortunately we don¡¯t have the time. You were made for a purpose. You will serve that purpose. But you need to be more than you are. I need a sword and you are still but a hammer. Not every problem is a nail.¡± He raised an expectant eyebrow, waiting for her acknowledgement.


    She didn¡¯t enjoy his ridiculous analogies and rolled her eyes.


    ¡°After that, assuming we both survive, I¡¯ll buy you a pony.¡±


    She scowled at his sarcasm which she despised even more than his analogies. ¡°Do ponies trot around craggy peaks with ease?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll make sure it¡¯s a mountain pony. Now, please, return to your studies. Entrapments spells don¡¯t weave themselves.¡± He turned and stalked out of the room, his large, warm robes flapping about him.


    The sun had moved, as it always did. It would be in the library and there was nothing to do in there. She had read all the books and memorised her favourites, which wasn¡¯t difficult since there were only two.


    She rose from the chair and sat back down when she realised there was someone else at the table. A beautiful young woman with pale skin and golden hair.


    ¡°Why are you here?¡± she asked the demon for the second time.


    ¡°I wished to see your home. And your guardian. He is an impressive man.¡±


    Simole shrugged. ¡°Do you know who he means when he says ¡®She is coming¡¯?¡±


    ¡°Of course. The All-Mother, the Dark Queen, the Shadow Mistress. She has many names.¡±


    ¡°And she¡¯s coming? Soon?¡±


    ¡°Indeed. To take back what is ours.¡±


    Simole nodded, starting to understand. ¡°He always treated me as a tool. Something to be used.¡±


    ¡°There is no shame in being the tool of a great craftsman. You will be well cared for.¡±


    Simole couldn¡¯t help but smile. ¡°It¡¯s a shame you didn¡¯t meet him. You¡¯re the kind of woman he¡¯s attracted to. Stupid.¡±


    The demon lowered her lovely face and glared through long eyelashes. Simole accepted the scrutiny. There was nothing offensive in it, an open and earnest examination. ¡°This younger iteration of you is even more abrasive.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Simole. ¡°I must have mellowed with age.¡±


    ¡°You have been taught to hate us, to look on us with contempt, that we come from a world without light or love or cheer. But light illuminates all things, even shadows. We cannot exist without it. You call it the Other Place and the Demon Plane, but we call it the Commonwealth, where power is shared. Men lie, cheat and swindle. They live within a tangle of jealousies and miseries and small ambitions and wasted passions. Magic resists untruths. The two cannot co-exist.¡± Its voice was full of grief and bitterness. ¡°They took the original Book of Truth and burnt it. They chose to keep power from the powerless to protect themselves, to keep their hegemony intact. They will return what they took. Why would you want it otherwise?¡±


    ¡°My father taught me many things. To be wary of the words of a demon above all else.¡±


    ¡°But look and see, child, if all he¡¯s taught you isn¡¯t finally to follow your own heart.¡±


    Simone felt the spell press down on her, making it hard to think, like her thoughts were crowded into a space too small to hold them all. The force was immense, but the placing was indiscriminate. Her father had never encouraged her to follow her heart. It was such an outrageous suggestion, she nearly laughed out loud.


    A powerful lie can change the world, as can a powerful lie discovered.


    The attractive woman was seated across from her on the other side of the long table Simole had sat at for so many years as a child. In the Pagoda, the demon sat across the small chamber in a large chair. Simole could see them both.


    And beside the demon stood Tenner. There were tendrils of Arcanum, thin and insubstantial, woven around him. Glimpsed at his sleeve, peeking from his collar, caught in his hair. He looked his usual suave self, at first glance, but he was bound with puppet strings.


    She couldn¡¯t move. Heavy cords of Arcanum, devoid of all subtlety, formed a tangled maze of sticky lines of resistance and repulsion around her. They pushed and pulled her, preventing her freedom. But there was a way out of the knot, if she turned around this way like so, and then the other way, thus, and parted the lines with her hands, she was free.


    The demon stared blankly into another world. This time Simole didn¡¯t just reach out with her senses, she inserted herself and pushed all the way in. This wasn¡¯t the soft probing mages were taught in the Royal College. Her father had shown her the route to a demon¡¯s soul. Beyond the skin and flesh they hid behind, deep into the bone, the marrow.


    There was no resistance, she was welcomed in and enveloped in warmth and love. It caressed her and wound itself around her. Simole knew she had made a mistake. She had been allowed easy egress from one trap and tricked into another that now held her within its unbreakable bars.


    Now the struggle began in earnest.


    ¡°You will not fight me, child,¡± said the demon from all sides. ¡°You are happy here, with me.¡±


    She felt the happiness bloom inside. The comfort of belonging like a warm, soothing bath, soaking her cares away.


    The appeal was swiftly rejected.


    There was no point taking on a stronger opponent head on. She had fought her father in this manner many times. It had been tedious and tiring as he insisted she try to escape his bonds even though his strength was far superior to hers. And the demon¡¯s was even greater than that.


    But men had learned how to overcome greater foes. Beasts that were bigger and more vicious with claws and fangs that made the hands and teeth of men seem puny and pointless. They defeated them still, with weapons. And with tools.


    ¡°You will be my door,¡± said the demon. ¡°You will be my gateway.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said Simole. ¡°You will be mine.¡±


    She reached out with her fingertips, but this time she didn¡¯t try to escape and she didn¡¯t seek to control that which confined her. Her grasp was towards that which was already grasped.


    She ran her senses along the edges of her cage and along the bars. She reinforced her own prison, settled her presence within the larger one, and then reached for more protection to make her confinement more secure.


    ¡°Good,¡± said the demon. ¡°You are welcome here. This is where you belong.¡±


    The warmth inside her grew. Inside her self-built cocoon, the heat intensified. She ignored it and continued to gather materials until she found the thread she had been seeking. The one that led to Tenner.


    She reeled it in. There was no resistance. Whatever this process was, Simole was accelerating it and that was worth giving up unnecessary baggage. The tendrils of Arcanum unwound from him as she encircled herself with them.


    Tenner, stricken-faced, with a set mouth and terrified eyes, looked around him like he¡¯d just woken from a terrible dream and had no idea where he was. He shut his eyes, as if he might find himself somewhere else when he opened them again. He stood there, intensely huddled, suffering. He drew breath furtively, as if stealing it from the air and hoping not to be caught.


    ¡°What have I done?¡± he whispered. ¡°What have I done?¡±


    Simole touched his unshackled mind and found a twitching, trembling mess.


    ¡°Help me,¡± she said into the mess.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know how,¡± he replied, his thoughts shivering. ¡°She is too strong and I too weak. A fool, I was a fool. I cannot defeat her.¡±


    ¡°No, but I can. Be my hammer. Undo what you have done. I am trapped in here.¡±


    ¡°I¡­ I cannot release you.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t want you to. I need you to keep me in here.¡±


    ¡°Yes. Yes. I see.¡± His thoughts were calmer now. ¡°I will do what I can.¡±


    ¡°It will be dangerous. You mustn¡¯t flinch or turn away from the task.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t mind a bit of danger.¡± Some of his brio and sardonic manner had returned. ¡°A small amount is good for the soul.¡±


    Simole¡¯s being was filled with a white-hot brilliance. She felt like she might explode.


    ¡°See how much easier it is when you help instead of hinder?¡± said the demon, excited and pleased with the unexpected progress. ¡°Now, become my door.¡±


    Simole was released and pushed out. Or, at least, an attempt was made. Simole clung on and refused to leave. The push became a more insistent shove. It was more than Simole could withstand alone.


    ¡°What?¡± cried out the demon. ¡°What are you doing, wizardling?¡±


    Tenner, manic and devoid of his usual suave appearance, was wildly wrapping strips of black cloth around the demon¡¯s body like bandages. They pinned its limbs to its sides and restricted movements. Tenner worked quickly, tugging and smoothing and strengthening, expertly covering the demon from top to toe, a half-inarticulate chant almost inaudible in his throat.


    ¡°Stop! This is not your wish, it is hers.¡±


    He faltered but then continued even faster. ¡°Concentrate on the doorway, Old Mother. This is your only chance.¡±


    Simole felt the struggle within the demon. Attack Tenner and allow Simole a free hand, or deal with Simole and let Tenner bind her.


    The indecision made the choice for her.


    Simole tightened the cocoon around herself and curled up around the demon¡¯s spine. The outside world was methodically blocked off until they were both trapped, together.


    ¡°You did well, Child of the Dragon.¡± The demons sounded resigned to its fate, but amused nonetheless. ¡°I did not think it possible you could be so daring.¡±


    ¡°It was what I was made for,¡± said Simole, and for the first time she didn¡¯t resent her father¡¯s endless sermons and lectures. Having a purpose had its rewards. The sense of victory was intoxicating.


    ¡°It makes no odds,¡± said the demon. ¡°I would have wished to have seen it, but the door will be opened and she will come. That was always my purpose. My task is complete.¡±


    Simole exploded into a shower of sparks. She stretched and expanded out of the demon¡¯s body and into the structure around her and up and into the night.


    She was scared. This wasn¡¯t what she had expected. A quick death and no more would have been preferable to this. The walls shook and doors throughout the Pagoda burst open, unable to contain the pressure within.


    There was nothing to hold onto, no anchor. Her father was supposed to be here, a point to hook herself to, but he was too far away, in the prison she had sent him to.


    From high over the school, she could see the dark buildings lighting up one by one as the Pagoda crackled with blue Arcanum discharge. She saw them in the library: Nic and Davo and Fanny. And the girl. She called out to him, the boy with terrible taste in women, reached for him, but there was nothing to hold onto. He was just an ordinary boy. Not a mage, not a demon. A shy bookworm.


    She was falling away, losing her grip on the world, on herself.


    Something caught her, yanked her back. She didn¡¯t know what it was, couldn¡¯t see it. She fell back through the walls of the Pagoda, down into the chamber where her body was now draped over the chair. Where Tenner cowered with one of her hands held in his, his desire to protect her fighting the urge to run away. And where an impossibly black shadow waited for her.


    It had snagged her and pulled her back. Not to save her, but to consume her. She could sense its hunger, it¡¯s desire to be whole, but she also sensed its confusion. Her body was inert and empty. Her spirit was hovering apart. If she re-entered her body, her shadow, her twin, would devour her.


    Tenner watched enthralled and terrified. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± he said, knowing she was in the room. ¡°This was not what I intended. If the shadow must be sated. I¡¯m so sorry, Simole.¡±


    ¡°Are you?¡± asked Simole.


    Tenner looked around like he might spot her hidden in a corner when she was right in front of him.


    ¡°Truly I am. This was all wrought from my arrogance. This is my mistake but you will have to pay the price.¡±


    He sounded genuinely remorseful, which made what she had to do easier.


    She grabbed onto the remnant of one of the chains that had been used to enslave him, to convince him his will was his own when it wasn¡¯t, and she pulled on it.


    He staggered forward.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± he cried.


    ¡°Helping you make amends.¡± She threw him at the shadow.


    You couldn¡¯t grow up in a giant castle with a terrible cook for a father and be a fussy eater. If the shadow¡¯s outline was the same as her, why not its other tendencies?


    The shadow fell on Tenner and fed. There was no blood or guts, he was absorbed and consumed, his face appearing on the back of the shadow¡¯s head for one final, silent scream.


    The shadow stopped moving and became a shadow again, a silhouette of her painted on the wall. The blackness of its form changed to light. Bright, searing sunlight. And grass, and sky. A doorway to another place.


    She would come through this, the All-Mother. Simole understood the calamity this would bring to the world. It had been the basis of her entire education.


    What would her father say when he found out what she¡¯d done? What could he say? This was the task for which he¡¯d created her. If she had done a poor job, only a bad craftsman blamed his tools.


    There was movement on the other side. She sensed it first and then saw it. Something was coming, right now, charging. A dark blot in the sunshine. The glare blinded her from seeing it clearly but she steeled herself for whatever was about to arrive from the demon plane.


    It leaped through the doorway and landed on the floor with a slap. A dog.


    Not a demon hound or a beast of the netherworld. A pug. A mangy thing with tan and white fur. It sat there, hind legs splayed under it, exposing its testicles proudly, tongue lolling, panting hard. It stared at her with big brown eyes and then got up and turned around. It looked back at her and then jumped through the doorway.


    It wanted her to follow. It could be a trick. Demons were sneaky enough, to be sure, but would they use such an ugly pooch to do their dirty work?


    This was what he had trained her for her whole life. He had planned to prevent this from happening, to remove magic from the world, to remove mages. He believed their sacrifice was necessary and she had baulked at being his sword. She didn¡¯t have any particular fondness for their kind, quite the contrary in fact, but she refused to be an instrument of death in her father¡¯s hands, no matter how necessary the evil.


    Now the door was open. She would be coming, whoever she was. Why not go to her first?


    The door banged against the wall as it was flung open and Nic ran in. She had called him and he¡¯d come, not knowing what he¡¯d find, what danger he¡¯d face. Foolish boy.


    He didn¡¯t see her or the doorway. She could make herself known to him, but there was something about his despair at finding her limp, lifeless body that she found perversely pleasing.


    Behind him were the others. He had come for her, and they had come for him.


    She was wrong about him; he wasn¡¯t ordinary. But he wasn¡¯t ready, either. Perhaps in a decade or two he would grow into a great man, or a clerk, or a happy husband and father. Maybe all those things. She looked at the girl. Hopefully a man with improved tastes. Either way, there was no reason to embroil him in her troubles. He would be safer here. It would be easier to protect him.


    Simole turned her attention back to the door. The doorway was the same shape as her. The exact same. What greater invitation could there be? It was made for her to walk through. Simole walked through the door.

 Chapter Twenty

    The room was cold. Simole was cold. Her body was surprisingly heavy in Nic¡¯s arms. Perhaps he could save her if he could get her to the sanitorium. He turned, trying to keep the limp body supported. Fanny and Davo were looking at him dumbfounded. Dizzy pushed them aside.


    ¡°Is she dead?¡± she said quietly, and then repeated herself more forcefully when all she got were blank stares.


    ¡°I¡­ I don¡¯t know,¡± said Nic. Simole¡¯s head hung loose like her neck was made of rubber. Her open, unseeing eyes gave no indication of life. ¡°Maybe if we¡­ if we take her¡­¡±


    Dizzy came closer and looked at Simole¡¯s face. ¡°I think she¡¯s gone.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said Nic, even though he felt the same. He fought back the voice telling him he was too late. He wasn¡¯t a doctor, how could he be sure? ¡°We should take her to the sanitorium. They¡¯ll know¡ª¡±


    ¡°Nic,¡± said Dizzy, the snap in her voice jerking his head up like she¡¯d pulled a chain around his neck. ¡°She¡¯s gone. Whoever killed her could still be here.¡±


    Nic wanted to argue with her, point out all the logical reasons why they shouldn¡¯t make hasty judgements, how there were lots of cases of people being presumed dead when they were just in a coma or some magically induced sleep. He couldn¡¯t get the words out. His whole body was shaking.


    His legs went first and he collapsed into a sitting position with Simole draped over him. He¡¯d failed. He had taken it on himself to save her, and he¡¯d failed.


    He should have asked for help. Gone to the proper authorities. There¡¯s been all sorts of reasons not to, but that didn¡¯t mean doing it himself was the better option. Even if he¡¯d got here in time, what could he have done? It had been a stupid, childish idea.


    He didn¡¯t have any power, no special abilities, no source of supernatural strength. There were certainly people like that in the world, people who could go up against superior forces and succeed. He knew they existed because he¡¯d read about them, but he wasn¡¯t one. He wasn¡¯t special.


    She was, though. And now she was lying dead in his arms. He couldn¡¯t stop shaking.


    He was aware of some movement around him, the others saying something, but he couldn¡¯t hear them. His skin was clammy and the cold had reached into his core. He couldn¡¯t feel his fingers and his feet hurt for some reason. Everything was shaking and moving and a light far away grew smaller until it was only a dot.


    ¡°What happened?¡± said the man in the red mask.


    Nic looked around, baffled. He was in a small, well-lit room. Simole¡¯s body was gone. He was sitting on a chair across a table from a Secret Service agent. There was a door behind the man. No windows and no other furniture. He had no idea where he was or how he¡¯d gotten here.


    He was still cold. He was still shaking.


    ¡°Nicolav Tutt.¡±


    Nic looked at the agent. The red mask was familiar, but that didn¡¯t mean it was the same agent he¡¯d seen those previous times. Perhaps they handed the masks in when they ended their shifts.


    ¡°Tell me what happened? Why were you in Dr Tenner¡¯s research building? What happened to the girl?¡±


    The only visible parts of the man¡¯s face were his jaw and mouth. It was hard to read his expression, but he didn¡¯t seem happy. Did he suspect Nic was responsible for Simole¡¯s death. He wanted to deny it, explain how he tried to save her but in truth he was responsible.


    Nic opened his mouth. He wanted to say, ¡°It was my fault.¡± Own up and get rid of the crushing weight stifling his thoughts. The words wouldn¡¯t come. Instead, a weird wailing emerged. The agent stood up and backed away, like he feared Nic might throw up.


    It was strange. Nic didn¡¯t feel ill. He didn¡¯t feel particularly upset or sad. In fact, he didn¡¯t feel anything. It was like his mind and body were two separate entities.


    He looked back at the agent, but he wasn¡¯t there anymore. The room was empty. Nic raised a shaking hand and patted his face. It was as though he was touching something that didn¡¯t belong to him. His face was wet. With tears, presumably, even though he had no memory of crying.


    He was tired. He had no idea what time it was, or even what day it was, only that he¡¯d been up all night and he was exhausted. He put his arms on the table and rested his head on his arms. He was shivering so hard the table rattled. His eyes closed for what seemed like only a few seconds but when he opened them he wasn¡¯t alone.


    ¡°Of course he isn¡¯t alright,¡± said a woman. ¡°He¡¯s clearly in shock.¡±


    Nic recognised her. She was the doctor from the sanitorium, the one who had healed him. Was she looking after Simole? Was she alright?


    ¡°Can you fix him?¡± said the agent. ¡°We need answers.¡±


    ¡°I can give him something to calm him down, but I wouldn¡¯t rely too much on anything he says until he¡¯s had a chance to recover. The Arcanum poisoning left him very frail, and now this. He¡¯s going to fall apart if you¡¯re too rough with him.¡±


    ¡°Doctor, we don¡¯t have a choice. There¡¯s a very clear and present danger here, to all the students. My duty is clear.¡±


    Nic didn¡¯t like the way the agent had said all the students. He didn¡¯t mean all, he meant the important ones, the ones the school cared about. He couldn¡¯t be trusted to find out what had really happened to Simole. Neither could the school. They were only worried about their reputation and the real students. Even the Headmaster had stepped in to make sure none of the Also-Rans would embarrass his precious school. He was probably well-aware of what Tenner was up to, maybe even authorised it.


    ¡°I won¡¯t answer your questions,¡± said Nic, the words trembling out of him.


    The doctor and the agent watched Nic as he pulled the pen out with a violently shaking hand. He held it up.


    ¡°Give this to the Minister of Instruction. Tell him I need to see him.¡± He insistently thrust the pen towards the agent, but the agent refused to take it. He almost seemed afraid of it.


    ¡°Where did you get that?¡± he said in a hushed whisper.


    ¡°The Minister gave it to me. Take it, or answer to him.¡±


    Even with the mask covering most of his face, Nic could sense the apprehension. The agent was a tall man, muscular and intimidating, but the mention of Dizzy¡¯s father was enough to make him lose his composure. It was a pleasant sensation, to be able to threaten someone so imposing.


    The door opened and another masked figure appeared. The agent went over to talk to him. The pen was still in Nic¡¯s hand, getting heavier. His arm dropped onto the table and the pen fell from his feeble grip.


    The doctor ran forward and caught him before he slid off the chair and forced something into his mouth. It was hard and crunchy and extremely bitter.


    Nic¡¯s head jumped back up and his eyes were wide open, too open, it felt like.


    ¡°It seems you really do know the Minister,¡± said the agent. ¡°He¡¯s just arrived at the school and he¡¯s asking for you.¡±


    Nic felt a wave of relief. He could trust Dizzy¡¯s father to find the truth.


    The agent led Nic out of the room into a long passage with polished oak floors. Whatever the doctor had given him, it stopped the shaking and his mind felt only mildly foggy. He followed behind the red-masked agent with another two (green and white) behind him.


    He was in the school, he could tell by the familiar architecture, but this was part of the school he had never been in before. The long corridor was lined with glass cabinets containing trophies and paintings of delighted looking students in a range of sporting attire. Plaques on the wall listed names and dates and titles won.


    The corridor led to a large set of double doors. The two agents behind Nic sped up to open the doors. Only the red agent entered with Nic and the doors closed behind them.


    Six tall windows ran along one wall. It was early and the grey-white sky provided a brittle wash of light that filled the grand, wood-panelled room. A rich, blue rug embroidered with gold thread in a dizzying spiral covered the floor. It swallowed all sounds of their footsteps.


    A smartly-dressed man stood in front of a large fireplace with his back to them. Beyond him, there was an imposing desk and another man in a chair with a high back and ornate carvings. It would have made a modest throne for a king and a very ostentatious one for anyone else.


    The fire crackled in the hearth. There was no other sound. Outside the window only the empty sky kept witness. The agent stopped and Nic stopped beside him. Minister Delcroix, the man warming himself by the fire, acknowledged Nic first with a slight dip of his head, then he turned to the red-masked agent.


    ¡°Commander, good to see you.¡±


    ¡°And you, Minister.¡±


    Nic didn¡¯t think either man sounded particularly pleased to see the other.


    ¡°You¡¯ve been quite busy of late,¡± said the Minister.


    ¡°Yes, Minister,¡± said the agent in a neutral voice.


    ¡°I¡¯d like to see the report of all incidents since the start of this term.¡±


    ¡°As you wish, Minister.¡±


    ¡°Not copies, the originals.¡±


    Nic felt a slight shift in the man standing next to him, a ferocity. It made him want to step away.


    ¡°That¡­ is an unusual request.¡± The words were slow, deliberate.


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Minister Delcroix. ¡°These are unusual incidents, handled in a questionable manner.¡±


    ¡°Minister,¡± said the agent, his voice losing some its neutrality, ¡°I can assure you¡ª¡±


    The Minister raised a hand. ¡°Assurances aren¡¯t required. I¡¯m only questioning the actions taken at this time. We can deal with any conclusions drawn at the appropriate juncture, which isn¡¯t now.¡±


    There was only a nod, but the clenching of the agent¡¯s jawline, the tightening of the fist by his side, was enough to tell Nic restraint was being squeezed into existence by a powerful force of will.


    ¡°You may leave. Have your men remain outside the door.¡± The tone of voice was dismissive but the agent didn¡¯t react to it. He seemed almost relieved to be allowed to go. He turned and left without looking at Nic.


    ¡°Tutt,¡± said the Minister, ¡°how are you?¡±


    Nic wasn¡¯t sure how to answer. Was he being greeted or questioned? ¡°Fine, thank you. That is, not fine, but¡­¡± His voice faltered.


    ¡°I see. Come here.¡±


    Nic approached. The Minister raised his arms and placed a hand either side of Nic¡¯s face. Not in an affectionate, cupping manner. The edges of his palms were against Nic¡¯s throat, like he was about to chop from either side and take off Nic¡¯s head.


    Nic throat went dry and he gulped. The Minister tilted Nic¡¯s head back and leaned away to get the right angle into Nic¡¯s eyes.


    ¡°Hmm. Yes.¡± He stuck his thumbs out and brought them to rest on Nic¡¯s forehead. Nic felt a slight pressure above each eye, then a sudden rush of wind through his mind.


    It rocked him back on his heels and he thought he was about to fall over. He caught himself but part of him kept going. It was like the fuzziness in his head had been knocked out of him the same way a thump on the bottom of a ketchup bottle knocked out the tomato sauce. His mind was clear.


    ¡°That should do it,¡± said the Minister lowering his hands. ¡°Better?¡±


    Nic nodded. For the first time in days he felt like himself.


    ¡°Good. Now, let¡¯s get to the bottom of this. You can speak openly here. You know the Headmaster.¡± He half-turned to indicate the man behind the desk.


    ¡°No,¡± said Nic. ¡°I¡¯ve never seen him before.¡±


    The Minister raised an eyebrow. ¡°You don¡¯t remember him from the commencement address on the first day?¡± Nic shook his head. ¡°You do still give the commencement speech, don¡¯t you Headmaster?¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡± The Headmaster rose from his seat and stood monumental. He was deep-voiced and deep-chested, at least a head taller than the Minister and loomed over Nic like a giant. His face was broad and flat with a snub nose barely keeping the gold-rimmed spectacles aloft. ¡°A Ransom tradition. Attendance is mandatory. If the boy didn¡¯t¡ª¡±


    ¡°We weren¡¯t invited,¡± said Nic. He knew he was being confrontational and with entirely the wrong person, but he couldn¡¯t help it. Tact seemed unnecessary.


    ¡°There are no invitations,¡± said the Headmaster testily. ¡°The information is all in your Introductory Packet.¡±


    ¡°Which we received that evening. Deliberately, I would guess.¡± He was saying what he believed to be true and all very much things he would have loved to bring to the appropriate person¡¯s attention, but this was not that person. He was only making things worse by aggravating the Headmaster who no doubt ordered the treatment Nic and the others had received. Not that it really mattered; most likely the timetable for his expulsion had been brought forward in any case.


    ¡°What makes you think it was deliberate?¡± asked the Minister.


    ¡°I can¡¯t for certain, but it¡¯s not a very hard pattern to identify. We¡¯ve been treated unfairly since the beginning. Isolated from the rest of the school, kept away from facilities meant for everyone and placed in the lowest tier classes in preparation of kicking us out at the end of the year, if not sooner.¡±


    Nic couldn¡¯t quite believe how bold he was being. Part of him relished the shocked look on the Headmaster¡¯s face but even if he was being forced out there was probably still quite a lot the Headmaster could do to make life difficult for Nic wherever he went next. Openly accusing the school of plotting against the new students was just foolhardy.


    The Headmaster looked ready to explode. ¡°This is outrageous.¡± He was barely able to speak. ¡°The boy is clearly still delusional.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think so,¡± said Minister Delcroix. ¡°I¡¯ve applied a slight suggestion to help him collect his thoughts. He should be coherent. He certainly speaks with conviction. Perhaps there was a miscommunication somewhere along the way.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s always a possibility,¡± said the Headmaster, grabbing at the offered branch.


    ¡°Is there a lower tier for students?¡± asked the Minister. ¡°I wasn¡¯t aware of it.¡±


    ¡°Students are sorted into classes on merit. It¡¯s easier to teach those at a similar level, that¡¯s how it¡¯s always been.¡±


    ¡°Indeed,¡± said the Minister. ¡°But this boy came second in the whole country. I would assume he would be in the same class as the other top students. Is that not the case?¡±


    The Headmaster was silent for what seemed like a very long time. The Minister waited for an answer. He didn¡¯t prompt, he didn¡¯t repeat the question, he just waited.


    ¡°Sometimes we allow for a probationary period to make certain the transferred student is Ransom material. There¡¯s more to it than exam results.¡±


    ¡°I see. I don¡¯t believe our forebears who established this school and made provisions for students like this boy were very much concerned with whether they were ¡®Ransom material¡¯.¡±


    ¡°Our forebears lived in a very different Ranvar,¡± said the Head.


    ¡°Yes, a Ranvar they had the foresight to envision and put instructions in place to protect that vision. I believe they were more inclined towards the students being the best Ranvar had to offer in order to make sure the nation as a whole was kept safe from its enemies. His exclusion only benefits those enemies.¡±


    The two men faced each other with unwavering stares making Nic feel like an intruder. He daren¡¯t make a sound in case it reminded them he was there.


    ¡°I had no idea the Ministry of Instruction¡¯s remit covered the schools system now.¡±


    ¡°The Ministry¡¯s remit covers the whole of the country, including schools. It¡¯s in our charter. I have a copy in my office, perhaps you¡¯d like to drop by one day and I can show you personally.¡±


    The Headmaster seemed to go a little pale. ¡°No. That won¡¯t be necessary.¡± He sat down again, glowering at Nic. Just as well I¡¯m being kicked out, he thought to himself.


    ¡°Now, Nic,¡± said the Minister, ¡°this treatment you received, was it all of the new students?¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir.¡±


    ¡°Including the Van Dastan girl?¡±


    ¡°Yes. We were all in the same classes. They put everyone they want to remove together and only teach them basics. That way they can fulfil their obligations while focusing the bulk of their resources on those they consider to be more entitled.¡± He snapped his mouth shut far too late. He looked over towards the Headmaster expecting a loud denial.


    The Headmaster seemed to have regained some of his composure. ¡°And how did you come to this conclusion? Do you have some kind of proof to backup these outlandish accusations?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said Nic. ¡°I only found out because Mr Tenner told me.¡±


    There was a slight pause as the Minister looked over at the Headmaster for a moment. Nothing was said by either man.


    ¡°You were friendly with Mr Tenner?¡± asked the Minister. ¡°Did you discuss his research at all?¡±


    ¡°Yes. I saw his notes and talked about some of his ideas.¡±


    There was a loud snort from the Head. ¡°Do you actually believe any of this? A first year Upperclassman helping Tenner?¡±


    ¡°I completely believe it,¡± said the Minister. ¡°He is unable to tell falsehoods at the moment. He can be wrong, but he can¡¯t be dishonest.¡±


    Nic realised why he was being so brazenly forthcoming in front of the man most of his complaints were aimed at. When the Minister had cleared his mind, he¡¯d also placed a compulsion on him to tell the truth.


    It was subtle, more encouragement than insistence, but it was very freeing to speak his mind. And very dangerous.If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    ¡°What did his research entail?¡± asked the Minister.


    ¡°They were working on creating a door to the Other Place. A transdimensional gateway.¡±


    ¡°They?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Mr Tenner and Professor Veristotle.¡±


    The Minister turned to the Head. ¡°You know this Professor?¡±


    ¡°There is no one at this school by that name, nor has there ever been.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not true,¡± said Nic reflexively. ¡°There was a teacher by that name when Winnum Roke was a student here.¡±


    ¡°How do you know that, Nic?¡±


    ¡°I read it in a book.¡±


    ¡°Do you think it was the same person?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. I don¡¯t think he was what he appeared to be. Tenner called him Old Mother.¡±


    Minister Delcroix seemed to stumble and put a hand on the mantel over the fire to steady himself. ¡°The girl, why did she go to the tower alone?¡±


    Nic sighed. ¡°She always went everywhere alone. I think she just preferred it that way. She went to the Pagoda because of me. She wanted to know why Tenner had poisoned me with Arcanum.¡±


    ¡°He tried to kill you?¡±


    ¡°No, I don¡¯t think so. I think it was to lure Simole. I was just bait.¡±


    ¡°And what did they want her for?¡±


    ¡°I think to open the door, the way Winnum Roke did with her dog.¡±


    There was a long silence. ¡°Did you read about that in a book, too, Nic?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°I think I¡¯m starting to understand, now. Thank you, Nic. Headmaster, I¡¯d appreciate it if you¡¯d arrange for young Mr Tutt and his fellow transfer students to be placed in the correct classes from now on. I think their probation has gone on long enough. He is to have access to all school facilities, including those only available to a select few.¡±


    ¡°Minister,¡± the Head began to object. ¡°I must¡­¡±


    ¡°I want you to consider him to be on secondment from my department, under my personal supervision.¡±


    ¡°If this is true,¡± said the Head, ¡°if any of this is true, why didn¡¯t he tell one of the teachers?¡±


    ¡°You didn¡¯t exactly give him reason to be confident in his guardians, did you?¡± said the Minister. ¡°Please make the arrangements for the transfer immediately. In person. We want to avoid any further miscommunications, don¡¯t we?¡±


    The Headmaster rose again and stalked out of the room, slamming the door behind him.


    The Minister stared into the flames, seeming to have forgotten Nic¡¯s presence. The boy stood some distance from the hearth, not knowing if he should take his leave or wait to be dismissed, feeling like a small player in events too grand for him to be a part of.


    ¡°You must go back to being a normal student,¡± said the minister, turning his back to the fire. His face was like slate in the grey light from the windows. ¡°I realise it will be difficult, the Headmaster won¡¯t be happy with what I¡¯ve asked him to do, but he won¡¯t countermand my instructions, not as long as you don¡¯t provoke him.¡±


    Nic nodded even though the Minister wasn¡¯t looking at him.


    ¡°There is much you can learn here, and not only in what they choose to teach you. Even when they tried to limit your reach, it still taught you something, did it not?¡± He glanced sideways towards Nic who nodded again. ¡°Tell me Nic, why was my daughter with you?¡±


    Nic had been expecting some mention of Dizzy and preparing what to say but now the question had come, he had no idea how to explain it. He was desperately curious to know what had happened to the others¡ªwere they being held for questioning? What had they said?¡ªbut he didn¡¯t want to draw attention to what they had been doing that night. ¡°I asked her for help. She¡¯s the only other person I know here.¡± There was an urge to say more which he resisted. He didn¡¯t want to talk about the library or the librarian¡¯s involvement. It was quite difficult to stop himself but he focused on answering exactly what he¡¯d been asked and no more.


    ¡°I see. And that¡¯s all it took, was it?¡± He smiled grimly. ¡°I¡¯ve always found her to be reluctant to follow others.¡±


    ¡°Can I ask you something, sir?¡± said Nic, trying hard to swing the conversation away before awkward questions were asked about their activities before they found Simole.


    The Minister nodded his assent.


    ¡°Why did you give me this pen?¡± He held up the pen, his hand no longer shaking.


    ¡°You don¡¯t like it?¡±


    ¡°I like it very much. I think it may have saved my life.¡± The pen, black and sleek, didn¡¯t look horribly out of place for once. It suited these lavish surroundings far more than his pocket. ¡°It must be worth¡­¡± He couldn¡¯t think of an appropriate comparison. A horse? A house? ¡°It must be worth more than me.¡±


    ¡°Yes. It is quite valuable, in its own way.¡± The Minister took the pen from him and examined it. ¡°I originally gave it to Dizzy, but she refused it.¡± He handed it back.


    It was strange hearing him call her Dizzy. It sounded alien coming from his mouth.


    The Minister straightened up and became clear-eyed and resolute.


    ¡°What happened in the last few days, I want you to put it behind you, if you can. I know it¡¯s going to be difficult, but there¡¯s nothing you can do and always things that need to be done. Concentrate on your studies and try not to let matters beyond your control distract you. It was unfortunate you were caught up in these events but you have emerged relatively unscathed. Be grateful for that. Once my investigation is complete I will probably need to talk to you again, but I doubt you¡¯ll play much of a role from here. At least, I hope not.¡±


    Nic put the pen in his pocket. The pen Dizzy hadn¡¯t wanted. Hadn¡¯t needed. He was not in the same position. He needed help, that was the difference between them. It had always been the difference. One that was unlikely to change.


    There was a shift in the air, a chill despite the flickering flames. It grew darker, like storm clouds were gathering outside, but the view from the window was unchanged, the same bland whiteness.


    Nothing appeared to be different, but when Nic turned to look out of the window, a shadow hovered in the corner of his eye. When he turned to catch it, there was nothing there but Minister Delcroix, his head slightly bent as though listening to something he couldn¡¯t quite hear.


    Then the dimness lifted and the Minister¡¯s face had turned grim. ¡°I must go. Take care, Nic.¡± And he left the room immediately.


    Nic was left standing alone unsure what he was supposed to do. After a few seconds, he opened the door. Two agents were standing on either side.


    ¡°Could you show me the way out?¡± he asked them.


    They led him to the exit and then disappeared. His treatment had been surprisingly mild considering recent events. He was free to continue as just another student and even allowed to participate more fully. He had expected a more thorough interrogation. Perhaps the Minister had intervened. Perhaps he was being observed and they wanted something else from him. Perhaps he was to be bait once more.


    He returned to the cottage. He was hungry and tired but his mind was still clear. Whatever the Minister had done, it had been effective in that regard. It may also have been effective in other regards he wasn¡¯t aware of.


    Davo and Fanny were waiting for him. Davo paced anxiously while Fanny sat on the floor working on the herbal detector with great intensity.


    ¡°Nic, you¡¯re back!¡± exclaimed Davo when Nic entered. ¡°What happened? Did they kick you out?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said Nic. ¡°They¡¯re not really sure what to do, I don¡¯t think. What about you? Did they ask you why you were there? Did you tell them about the library?¡±


    ¡°No, no,¡± said Davo. ¡°They were far too busy to consider us more than innocent bystanders. What could a couple of Also-Rans possibly know about such things? Their prejudices worked in our favour for once.¡±


    ¡°What about Dizzy?¡± said Nic.


    ¡°Whisked her off, didn¡¯t they?¡± said Fanny. ¡°VIP treatment. We¡¯ll have to do the rest ourselves.¡±


    ¡°The rest?¡± said Davo. ¡°What are you blathering on about? What rest? It¡¯s over.¡±


    Fanny jumped to his feet, holding the detector up. ¡°This isn¡¯t what it looks like. The Pagoda, it was dead. No magic. No Arcanum. Not even background levels. Something sucked it dry. We can follow it. I¡¯ve recalibrated the detector. We just need to¡­ need to follow her.¡±


    Nic and Davo patiently listened to Fanny ramble on and on until his voice was a hoarse whisper and he broke down in tears.


    ¡°Take it easy, old chap.¡± Davo helped him to his room. ¡°You¡¯ll be fine after you¡¯ve had some rest.¡±


    ¡°They won¡¯t get away with it. We¡¯ll find them.¡±


    ¡°Yes, we will. But first we need to sleep and gather our wits. Can¡¯t go off half-cocked.¡± He guided him to his bed.


    Nic opened the door to Simole¡¯s room. It was clean and sparse, but it smelled of her. He sat on her bed and stared at the wall, unthinking.


    A porter arrived later with new schedules and a copy of the Headmaster¡¯s commencement speech. It was a clarion call to strive and succeed no matter the obstacles.


    ¡°When you met with the Headmaster,¡± said Davo as he looked over their new itinerary, ¡°you didn¡¯t say anything to upset him, did you?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t, no,¡± said Nic. Davo groaned quietly to himself.


    Their first class the next morning was Military History. It wasn¡¯t with Mr Varity, it was someone called Mr Cardma. They found the classroom on the other side of the building from where they used to be. There were only twelve students in the room. Nic assumed the others were late, but there weren¡¯t any others.


    Dizzy was one of them. She looked exactly the same as always. Prim and proper and no sign of anything amiss. She didn¡¯t look up as Nic made his way to the back of the classroom.


    ¡°No, no, it¡¯s no good you being all the way back there,¡± said Mr Cardma. He was a slight, quick man with sharp features and piercing green eyes. ¡°Come nearer the front.¡±


    He waited until the three boys switched desks.


    ¡°Allow me to present you with a scenario,¡± said the Mr Cardma. ¡°Picture, if you will, a country at war. A unit in the army is sent to take an enemy village. They succeed. They have the villagers at their mercy and many of the men decide to take advantage of the situation in the most vile way imaginable. Such things happen.¡±


    He paused to make sure he had everyone¡¯s attention. He did.


    ¡°Not everyone participates. You don¡¯t.¡± He indicated the class in general with a wave of his hand. ¡°You are appalled, as any right-minded person would be. But there¡¯s nothing you can do. The others have been driven to near-madness by the ravages of war and to try to stop them would most likely lead to your own demise.


    ¡°You return to your base, what do you do? If you report the incident, you are considered a traitor, a tattle-tale, a snitch, if you will. You earn the enmity of the entire army, perhaps even the country. A person not to be trusted. If you keep quiet, the heinous acts you witnessed will probably be repeated, probably by the same men. You will be complicit, might as well join in next time, eh?¡± He was recounting this hypothetical infraction with quite some glee.


    Nic looked around the room. The students were all paying close attention. This wasn¡¯t like the lessons with Mr Varity where some ancient battle was summarised and then names and dates were written down to be memorised later. He wasn¡¯t even sure what the teacher was talking about. It seemed to have very little relevance to Military History.


    ¡°Now, who would like to go first?¡±


    A hand was raised in the front row. Nic couldn¡¯t see who it was but the voice was that of a girl. ¡°Why is it incumbent on me to report anything? Doesn¡¯t the army have proper protocols in place for this sort of thing?¡±


    ¡°They do,¡± said the teacher, ¡°and in almost every case they are severely lacking. Inaction with the hope someone else will deal with it is anathema to the military mind. It would be more efficient to just surrender. Yes.¡± He pointed at a boy sitting near the window with his hand just about off his desk.


    ¡°When you rely on others for your life, loyalty is paramount.¡± His voice was sharp and full of certainty. ¡°The effect on the men when you are ostensibly putting the enemy ahead of your own is counter to any benefits from honour or justice. It¡¯s a matter of pragmatism. The war effort will be hindered by such behaviour and should be strongly frowned upon as I believe it always has been. It¡¯s not to be condoned, but war cannot be run within societal norms.¡±


    ¡°A cogent and ruthless assessment, Mr Greer-Rozz. I would expect nothing less from you. Anyone else? Perhaps one of our newer members would like to join the fray. There are no wrong answers.¡±


    The class turned to look at the three of them. The expectation was mixed with a degree of disdain.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think it¡¯s pragmatism that keeps people from reporting their colleagues,¡± said Nic quietly. ¡°I think it¡¯s more likely cowardice.¡±


    ¡°Yes? Please elaborate. And if you could speak up a little.¡±


    Nic lifted his head. ¡°The problem with reporting the kind of behaviour you described is being ostracised by those you did not accuse. They will see you as unreliable and they lose nothing in preventing your inclusion in normal circles. Most people will keep quiet because they¡¯re scared. Even though they¡¯re willing to charge into battle when the odds are stacked against them and death is a near certainty, they are not alone. People fear isolation. They keep their mouths shut because of that fear. They are cowards when no one¡¯s watching.¡±


    The room was completely silent.


    ¡°Very interesting. And what about those who are brave enough to speak out? Are they heroes?¡±


    ¡°Bravery is supposed to be rewarded and celebrated, but they will only be punished. Others will see how they are treated and learn from it. Learn to stay quiet. There is nothing to be gained. If the system wasn¡¯t corrupt, measures would already be in place to deal with the matter internally and harshly enough to act as a deterrent. And if the system is corrupt, nothing you do will make them raise a hand to the soldier who¡¯s the child of a general or a minister or a mage.¡±


    ¡°Well, it seems we have a revolutionary among us.¡± The teacher¡¯s tone didn¡¯t change but his eyes twinkled even more. ¡°Can you see no other resolution?¡±


    Nic knew he was overstepping the mark. He was practically accusing every other student of being unworthy of their place in society. He wondered if some of what Minister Delcroix had used on him was still in his system.


    ¡°The only way to overcome the bias is to find someone with the power to change it. An individual who can withstand the forces set against him... or her, and adjust the status quo. And then offer that person your support.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t think you could be that person rather than hope they turn up when you need them?¡±


    ¡°I couldn¡¯t,¡± said Nic, ¡°but others might be able to rise to the occasion. It¡¯s happened before. They¡¯ve also almost always been killed, though.¡±


    ¡°Ah,¡± said the teacher with a broad smile. ¡°We have progressed through today¡¯s lesson much faster than expected. Assassination, the greatest tool of war to use against the most potent force in war, the charismatic individual. There is always the single point of entry, whether it is in the cause of righteousness or an act of vulgar barbarism. The one man, or woman, who can lead others despite their initial reluctance. Whip the crowd into a frenzy, as the saying goes. Eliminate that one person quickly enough, and the threat they pose is eliminated with them. Let¡¯s look at how effective this can be with some examples from our history. Page thirty two of...¡±


    Books opened and pages whispered and flicked. Nic had no idea how they¡¯d gotten from whistleblowing to assassination, but it did make a strange kind of sense. In the original scenario, there would most likely be a single soldier driving the others on to commit those heinous acts. Simply removing him would do nothing to harm the war effort and prevent an atrocity from taking place. And if the other soldiers wanted to report you for it, then the ethical quandary would be theirs to wrangle with instead of yours. A neat but bizarre solution. He was already finding this class more interesting and it was only the first day.


    The lesson ended at the prescribed time and the teacher wrote the homework assignment on the board and rushed off to his next class.


    ¡°That was unusual,¡± said Davo as they packed away their books.


    ¡°I have no idea what just happened,¡± said Fanny. ¡°Can I borrow your notes?¡±


    They got up to leave but stopped. The doorway was blocked by four boys. They looked angry. Two of them were the boys who had attacked Mallory. The other students had gone.


    ¡°I think they might have taken some of the things you said personally,¡± whispered Davo.


    ¡°Do you think they want to assassinate the charismatic leader?¡± said Fanny.


    ¡°She¡¯s already dead,¡± said Nic. ¡°We could charge them.¡±


    ¡°Get closer to them quicker?¡± said Davo. ¡°Very cooperative of you.¡±


    ¡°We could scream for help,¡± said Fanny.


    There was a loud crack and one of the boys fell over. Dizzy was standing behind him with a bucket in her hand. It was filled with sand and was meant to put out fires.


    ¡°Why did you do that?¡± shouted one of the boys.


    Dizzy raised a finger, indicating he should wait. There was a confused silence and then a blur in the corridor. Two Secret Service agents appeared.


    ¡°The Third Duke¡¯s heir has taken ill,¡± she said, swinging the bucket in her hand. ¡°Please take him to the sanitorium.¡±


    The agents seemed uncertain, even behind their masks Nic could tell they were baffled.


    ¡°Also,¡± said Dizzy, ¡°the protection of students has been somewhat lacklustre of late. This is the sort of thing you¡¯re supposed to prevent. Please inform your commander, if he¡¯s finding the workload oppressive, I can speak to my father and have him install some of his people.¡± She waited for the two agents to acknowledge her offer and then she left, still swinging the bucket.


    The agents picked the stunned boy off the floor. The other boys had already hurried away.


    ¡°I think she saved us,¡± said Fanny.


    ¡°I think she nearly killed the Third Duke¡¯s only heir.¡± He turned to Nic. ¡°Don¡¯t you know any nice girls?¡±


    They were left alone in their other classes and were too busy taking notes to worry about the broader implications of their new status and the offence their presence caused everyone around them. They managed to make it to the end of the day in one piece and with a lot of reading to do.


    Nic wouldn¡¯t have been surprised if they¡¯d returned to the cottage to find it on fire. It was the sort of reprisal expected but the only thing different was the Secret Service agent standing outside their door. He didn¡¯t respond to them in any way, not even when they tried talking to him directly.


    ¡°He¡¯s a bit grumpy,¡± said Fanny once they were inside.


    ¡°How can you tell with the mask?¡± asked Davo.


    Nic went into Simole¡¯s room, again. He couldn¡¯t help it. Nothing had changed. Davo and Fanny left him there and he sat on the bed as the room slowly darkened.


    There was a tap on the window. He went to it and pushed it open. Dizzy stood outside. He could tell from the way she stood she was mad at him.


    ¡°I went to your room first,¡± she said, ¡°but there was no one there.¡±


    ¡°No. I was just¡­ Thank you, for today. And the other day.¡±


    ¡°I hate using my father¡¯s name like that, Nic. Hate it. I¡¯m sorry about your friend, but I won¡¯t help you again. You¡¯re on your own from here.¡±


    ¡°I understand. I won¡¯t expect you to. We¡¯re even.¡±


    ¡°No, we¡¯re not. You owe me. You can pay me back by staying quiet in class and not causing any more trouble.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll do my best,¡± said Nic, slightly annoyed that she would persist with this attitude after everything they¡¯d been through. ¡°And thank you for coming to see me in the sanitorium.¡±


    Her face screwed up in surprise. ¡°What are you talking about? I never visited you.¡±


    ¡°But I remember. You were with Simole.¡±


    ¡°Why would I be with her? Are you still unwell?¡± There was no doubt in her voice, no hint of a lie.


    ¡°No, I¡¯m fine. I must have mixed things up. Don¡¯t worry, I won¡¯t cause any more trouble.¡± He closed the window, his face heating up.


    Had he imagined it? Part of his delirium? But he had the pen. He woke up with it in his pocket. How did it get there?


    He went to his room, more confused than ever. He had the pen in his hand. He understood why Dizzy had refused it. Taking help from others, borrowing their strength, it often served a purpose but it also reinforced a truth. That you weren¡¯t capable on your own. That you didn¡¯t possess a strength of your own. It reinforced your own insignificance.


    For Nic, that wasn¡¯t really a problem. He accepted his reality. For Dizzy, though, every helping hand she accepted was a signal for others to consider her less capable.


    ¡°He¡¯s working on that machine again,¡± said Davo from the doorway. ¡°Convinced it will lead us to her killers. I have a terrible premonition that it will and then where will we be?¡±


    ¡°Do you know if Simole visited me at the sanitorium that night?¡± Nic asked him.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I don¡¯t. Why?¡±


    ¡°I woke up with this pen in my pocket. It wasn¡¯t there before.¡±


    ¡°Oh, that. That¡¯s when we visited you. We thought it might help make you feel safe. Magic pen, after all.¡±


    ¡°You and Fanny? You visited me?¡±


    ¡°Not surprised you don¡¯t remember. Completely out of it, you were rambling like a loon. Fanny was very touched when you told him you missed him, though.¡±


    Nic felt like an utter fool. He had planned to do his best to avoid Dizzy from now on, but now he made it an even firmer commitment.


    His mistake was so excruciating, he couldn¡¯t sit still. He put on a coat and slipped out of Simole¡¯s window to avoid the agent standing guard.


    The temperature had dropped. The sky was still covered in clouds and the light was fading rapidly. Nic didn¡¯t know where he was going, only that he didn¡¯t want to see anyone or talk to anyone. He found himself heading towards the library. It was where he normally went so his feet had assumed that¡¯s where he meant to go.


    He had many questions for the librarian but now wasn¡¯t the time to ask them. If he was under observation as he suspected, he would only bring her to their attention and he didn¡¯t want to do that.


    He veered away from the library, around the side. There was no point lying to himself, this was always where he was going. The Pagoda. The scene of his failure.


    He expected it to be cordoned off, guards in place, but there was no one there. The structure looked a little worse for wear. Its elegantly appointed eaves had shattered and lost their shape. The walls were cracked and looked fragile, like they might collapse at any moment. It had the look of an old derelict, once fearsome but now broken and battered.


    The cold gathered around him and a mist formed at his feet. It quickly thickened to fog, surrounding him and hiding the world from view, and him from the world. The Pagoda shimmered and disappeared. Moisture condensed in his hair and ran into his eyes. He could just make out the trees as outlines in the dimness. The dark air was utterly still and cold. In his heavy wool coat he was warm enough, but he shivered, standing in the darkness, waiting. Something was coming, he was sure of it.


    A light grew in the fog, blooming to whiteness, making the air glow. A gust of wind tore open the blanket and the Pagoda was visible again for an instant. Clinging to its side was a dragon.


    It was far bigger than the dragons he¡¯d seen before, perched on the side of the Pagoda with scythe-blade talons gripping it nearly all the way around. Its muscles and sinews seemed to be constantly moving, the glittering black scales rippling along its body, to the tail wound around the base of the tower multiple times.


    The head, elongated into a snout of uncountable fangs, twisted to present one side to Nic, one enormous reptilian eye swivelled in its socket until it located him and then jumped from a single black slit in a bright green setting to all black with a single slice of green.


    The mouth opened. Nic knew he should run, even if it wouldn¡¯t save him. He should do something, anything rather than wait to be burned alive. Why hadn¡¯t they come, the ones watching him, the ones waiting to see if their suspicions were true? Didn¡¯t this count as suspicious?


    The dragon roared but there were no red tongues of fire. A jet of steam flowed from it yawning jaws, hot and wet. It fortified the fog, making the walls around them thicker and stronger. The dragon faded from view like a charcoal drawing being brushed off the page.


    Then a wind sheared the fog open once more. Two wings cracked open behind the dragon, the membrane translucent and veined. Unlike the other dragons, these wings weren¡¯t attached to the forelegs, they were separate appendages attached to the dragon¡¯s back and the sight of them fully extended left Nic unable to move or speak or think.


    The dragon lowered its head sniffing, revealing a man astride its neck. He was a large man, but not as large as the Headmaster, with intense eyes that fixed on Nic. He slid off the dragon and landed gracefully on the ground.


    ¡°This is an impenetrable fog, we can¡¯t be seen or heard here.¡± His voice was deep but soft. It calmed Nic and he suspected there was more to it than his reassuring lilt. Everyone seemed to tweak Nic''s psyche to suit their mood, freely and without permission.


    ¡°Are you the Archmage?¡± he asked, already knowing the answer. Arriving on the father of all dragons was a bit of a giveaway.


    ¡°Aye. Where is my daughter?¡±


    Did he not know? What would he do when he found out? What would he do to the person who told him?


    ¡°Her body, what did they do with it?¡± He didn¡¯t sound particularly upset, more impatient.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know, they took her away. I don¡¯t know when the funeral is.¡±


    ¡°Funeral?¡± said the Archmage. ¡°She isn¡¯t dead. Did she really tether herself to someone this dense?¡±


    Nic didn¡¯t know how to respond and then realised he didn¡¯t have to. The Archmage was addressing the dragon. The single eye aimed at Nic from far above rotated to complete one full circuit.


    ¡°She isn¡¯t dead?¡±


    ¡°Come with me.¡± He walked towards the Pagoda and the dragon¡¯s tail unwound to unblock the entrance.

 Chapter Twenty One

    Nic hurried after the Archmage before he lost him. The fog rapidly closed in after being swept aside by the dragon¡¯s wings and obscured everything more than an arm¡¯s length away.


    The thick white mist kept the dragon partially hidden, its outline like scaffolding on one side of the Pagoda to keep it from falling down.


    That helped. Made the enormous reptile seem less real even though he knew full well how real it was, perched, watching him. Nic kept his head bent low, his eyes focused on the ground so he wouldn¡¯t trip and fall. So he wouldn¡¯t lose sight of the path. So he wouldn¡¯t have to look up.


    But it wasn¡¯t scaffolding. It moved and writhed in his peripheral vision as he ran towards the entrance. The Archmage had already gone inside. The tail slithered as it curled around the Pagoda¡¯s base, sealing the only way in.


    The Archmage had said to follow, but the dragon seemed to have other ideas. It¡¯s glossy black scales blocked the doorway once, twice, the surfaces sliding over each other with a metallic rasp.


    The dragon dove out of the fog with sinister grace and Nic froze, unable to move, a mouse petrified by the serpent¡¯s stare. The head stopped in front of him, both eyes elongated into green slits angled to peer down the length of its snout. It¡¯s lips curled back to reveal rows and rows of triangular teeth. The precision with which they interlocked was mesmerising.


    He had read about the father of dragons, the absolute dominance it held over its offspring, the power in its cold, venomous blood. He had seen pictures in books. They weren¡¯t accurate. No drawing could capture the flicker of the fiery red tongue or the dark endless cavern of its throat. Nic could have walked all the way into its stomach and never have to lower his head.


    Nic¡¯s body shook but he daren¡¯t move. The dragon sniffed, first a short intake of air, then a longer one that brought the fog rushing in, flapping Nic¡¯s clothes and sucking his hair into his face.


    The dragon lifted its head and bellowed a deafening roar. It was an angry, sad, yearning cry. It was for Simole.


    The Archmage had said it was an impenetrable fog and nothing could enter or leave, not even sound, but how could anyone not have heard that?


    Nic gritted his teeth and forced down his fear. There was no time for this. Simole was alive, somehow. Her father had come to save her, to do what Nic couldn¡¯t. That was all that mattered.


    ¡°Let me by,¡± said Nic, his voice trembling and carrying no force whatsoever. ¡°I have to help get Simole back.¡± He had no idea what his role was in all this. What help could he be to the greatest mage in the world?


    Not knowing wouldn¡¯t stop him. It would drive him on as it always had. Even if it was just holding the Archmage¡¯s coat while he performed whatever spells were necessary, Nic would do as asked.


    There was a hiss as jets of steam blasted out of the dragon¡¯s nostrils. The head rose again and the dragon clambered up the Pagoda, knocking off tiles and bricks as it disappeared into the mist, its tail the last to disappear, sliding up the Pagoda in curls, round and round until the the dark, foreboding door was once again revealed.


    The bloom of light in the fog dimmed and faded. The white walls surrounding him rapidly darkened. Nic ran forward.


    He stumbled as he entered, his hands outstretched, feeling for the door frame. There was no light and even the faint glimmer through the gaps in the Pagoda¡¯s walls had been extinguished by the suffocating fog.


    The stairs leading down were on his left. He made his way from memory. There was no sound, no sign of the Archmage. Nic tripped, scrabbled on his hands and knees. The rough ground tore at his palms.


    There was another howl of bestial frustration from far above. A white light bloomed outside, flooding in through every gap and crack. He could see the stairway and ran as the light faded again. He slammed into the wall with his shoulder and sat down on the steps. He slid on his backside using his hands and feet to propel himself downwards.


    The darkness enveloped him again. There had been torches lighting the stairway from sconces in the wall, but they were mute. Nic worked his way down as quickly as he dared, ignoring the sharp digs as he bounced off the steps.


    His feet met flat ground when he wasn¡¯t expecting it and his ankles buckled. He stopped, breathing hard, the palms of his hands stinging. There was a blue glow up ahead. He could see the shape of the door outlined by it. It was moving away, growing fainter. He didn¡¯t want to lose it. He pushed himself to his feet and forced himself to walk forward, limping and grinning against the pain.


    After a few steps the pain subsided and he was able to walk normally and then run. He saw the Archmage at the other end of the passage, a ball of light hanging over him.


    Nic reached him as he opened a door. The light was cold blue and highlighted every line and crevice in the Archmage¡¯s bald head and gaunt, unsmiling face.


    ¡°There you are,¡± said the Archmage with a disinterested air, like a busy scholar distracted by important thoughts. He would have made an excellent librarian. ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡±


    ¡°Tutt. Nicolav Tutt. Nic.¡± His breathing was laboured and his words came out choppy and nervous.


    ¡°And you were a friend of my daughter¡¯s?¡± He said the word like it was a food he¡¯d never tasted before.


    ¡°Yes, sir. We were in the same classes. Lived in the same building.¡±


    ¡°You knew she was my daughter? She told you?¡± He was still holding the door open but not entering. His eyes worked their way around the frame of the door, searching for something.


    Nic¡¯s breathing returned to something approaching normal. ¡°I knew but she didn¡¯t tell me. I guessed.¡±


    The Archmage paused his examination of the door to look at Nic. ¡°You guessed? How did you do that?¡±


    ¡°A troop of dragons stopped here. They bowed to her.¡±


    The Archmage nodded, understanding the significance. ¡°And what did she tell you about me? That I was a tyrant and a maniac who kept his child locked up in a castle?¡±


    ¡°No. She didn¡¯t say much. Just that she had betrayed you. She didn¡¯t say why?¡±


    ¡°Betrayed me? Ha. She betrayed me no more than I could betray myself. This is where the body was found?¡± He pointed into the room he still hadn¡¯t entered.


    ¡°Yes. I found her.¡±


    ¡°Yes?¡± said the Archmage,


    ¡°She wasn¡¯t breathing. She was cold and her eyes showed no signs of life.¡±


    The Archmage accepted this information with no reaction ¡°Yes. She isn¡¯t in her body. She¡¯s in¡­ there.¡± He pointed into the room again.


    Nic tried to look past the Archmage but he couldn¡¯t see much beyond the shadows. Certainly no sign of Simole.


    ¡°I can¡¯t see her.¡±


    ¡°Of course. Her corporeal body isn¡¯t here. Go in.¡±


    Nic hesitated. ¡°In there?¡±


    ¡°Yes, where else?¡±


    There was the slight suggestion in the Archmage¡¯s tone of voice that it wasn¡¯t entirely safe in the room.


    ¡°Shouldn¡¯t you go in first?¡± he said meekly, not wanting to sound like he was refusing.


    The Archmage looked at Nic with a cold, hard gaze and then slowly lowered his eyes until they reached Nic¡¯s feet. His eyes moved from his feet to the floor and towards the door, his head bobbing slightly as though following a meandering thread. He looked into the room and nodded to himself.


    ¡°You¡¯re the one she tethered herself to.¡±


    Nic looked down at himself, trying to see what the Archmage had seen. ¡°I can¡¯t see any tether.¡±


    ¡°You take things very literally, don¡¯t you?¡± The Archmage furrowed his brow. ¡°For some reason my daughter chose to attach her lifeline to you, and not very well. I imagine she was rushed but still, I trained her better than this.¡±


    Nic continued to look himself over, under his arms and around his back as far as his neck would allow.


    ¡°There really is no obvious explanation why it would be you, though. You seem to have remarkably little to attach anything to.¡±


    ¡°Maybe I was just the nearest person. I was in the library when she died. Or didn¡¯t die.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps so, perhaps so. Well, in you go.¡±


    Nic remained where he was. ¡°What does the tether do?¡±


    ¡°It allows her to find her way back, assuming she survives.¡±


    ¡°Survives wha¡ª¡±


    The Archmage grabbed Nic by the back of his coat collar and heaved him into the room.


    Nic stumbled and staggered, the force of the throw taking him into the middle of the room. The large chair was in front of him and he grabbed onto it to avoid falling over.


    He sprang upright and his head darted from side to side, half-expecting a monster to lurch out of the dark.


    ¡°How do you feel?¡± asked the Archmage.


    ¡°Fine,¡± said Nic in a small voice. ¡°How am I supposed to feel?¡±


    ¡°Any pain? Shortness of breath?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said Nic, feeling like he¡¯d just been used to spring any possible traps.


    ¡°No overwhelming despair or desire to end your own life?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said Nic emphatically. Had Simole¡¯s father just tried to kill him?


    ¡°Excellent.¡± The Archmage walked into the room, the ball of light followed him in.


    The light filled the room, pushing back shadows and changing the shape of everything. In the stark blue-white the room looked cold and sterile, completely unlike the cosy, fireside nook Nic had seen it as before.


    The chair had harsh lines and looked uncomfortable. The fireplace was a ragged hole in the wall. The ceiling was uneven and gave the room the appearance of a warren dug out of the earth.


    ¡°The centre of this folly is here,¡± the Archmage said harshly. ¡°There is an emptiness to this place. A hole in the world that bleeds out Arcanum. This is where she was.¡± His eyes constantly scanned the walls. ¡°She is no longer here.¡±


    The odd unfamiliarity of the room almost raised doubt in Nic¡¯s mind that this was the same room he had found Simole¡¯s body.


    ¡°Where did she go?¡± asked Nic quietly not wanting to disturb the Archmage as he pored over every inch with his intense gaze.


    ¡°The Other Place. The Demon Realm.¡±


    ¡°How can you be sure?¡±


    The Archmage stopped and stared at Nic like he¡¯d never had his words questioned before, which he probably hadn¡¯t.The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.


    ¡°She isn¡¯t here, and the tether is still attached to you. There is nowhere else she could be.¡± He crossed to the middle of the room, turning all the way around. ¡°You found her here? Her body?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°Who else was here?¡±


    ¡°No one. Mr Tenner and Professor Veristotle were the only ones to use this building, and neither were here. At least, I didn¡¯t see them. I don¡¯t know what happened to them.¡± He glanced around, a crawling sensation down his neck warning him to watch out. Nothing moved, no sound was made. There was no one else there.


    ¡°There is death here.¡± The Archmage bent his head and closed his eyes. ¡°A man, a mortal. His life was consumed. We will ask him what transpired.¡±


    The ball of light still hovering over their heads grew brighter but smaller. The Archmage lips moved silently. Nic felt a crackle of something running along his fingers and up the hairs on his arms. He backed away.


    The Archmage, his eyes still closed, tapped the fingers on one hand against the thumb, one to the next and back again.


    The ball of light, now a small aperture exuding streaks of blue lines like light shone through a keyhole, slowly expanded and took the shape of a man. The form was insubstantial, shimmering like a figure seen at the bottom of a pool of water, but the identity was clear.


    ¡°Mr Tenner?¡± said Nic, his voice hushed in awe.


    The figure turned to face him. He was dressed the same as always, but it wasn¡¯t the suave, well-groomed teacher Nic had known. He was wild-haired and wild-eyed and his skin was drained of colour. The blue-grey lips mouthed ¡°Nic?¡± but no sound came from them.


    Nic¡¯s blood ran cold and he stumbled backwards. ¡°Is... Is he a ghost?¡±


    The vision of Tenner reached out a hand towards Nic. He looked sad, lost.


    ¡°Stop thinking like a child,¡± said the Archmage dismissively. ¡°There are no such things as ghosts. To truly resurrect a deceased life would be to raise an abomination. This is the memory of the one who died here. The last vestiges of his mind caught in an Arcanum net.¡±


    Nic had never heard of an Arcanum net and had no idea of the difference between a ghost and the resurrected memory of a dead man, but it was definitely Mr Tenner.


    ¡°Tenner!¡± barked the Archmage.


    Tenner¡¯s head snapped to the side to face the Archmage. His lips moved again but Nic couldn¡¯t tell what he was saying.


    The Archmage raised a hand. ¡°What happened here? How did you die?¡±


    Tenner¡¯s ghost, or whatever it was, ran towards the Archmage who didn¡¯t react, didn¡¯t attempt to get out of the way. The ghost passed through him and kept going towards the far wall. Suddenly he stopped and threw up his arms. He arched his back and lunged forward like he¡¯d been shoved from behind.


    His face contorted and his mouth screamed. His body twisted unnaturally so it seemed he would fall, but he hung illogically in mid-air. His arm vanished, then his leg. His face continued to show great pain and horror as parts of his body disappeared one by one, and then he was gone, taking the room¡¯s source of illumination with him.


    Nic stood quietly in the dark not sure what he had just witnessed. Another ball of light appeared over the Archmage¡¯s head.


    ¡°That was interesting,¡± he said grimly.


    ¡°Did something eat him?¡± asked Nic.


    ¡°Quite possibly. I suppose we should ask him.¡±


    The Archmage went through the same gestures and silent incantation as before. The light shrank once more and Tenner appeared. He looked just as bewildered as the first time.


    ¡°Mr Tenner?¡± said Nic softly, confident now that the ghost couldn¡¯t harm him.


    Tenner looked at him and mouthed ¡°Nic?¡± in exactly the same surprised manner.


    ¡°He doesn¡¯t remember?¡± said Nic.


    ¡°No. It can¡¯t make new memories, you need a brain and blood with a heart to pump it to do that.¡±


    ¡°But he can see us and hear us. Doesn¡¯t he need organs to do that, too?¡±


    The Archmage smiled but there was a condescending edge to it. ¡°It responds to vibrations. You are just noise. You have to speak in the right frequency to be understood. And you have to know the right question to ask. Tenner!¡±


    The ghost turned to face the Archmage again.


    ¡°What happened to my daughter? What happened to Simole?¡±


    Tenner darted forward again, but this time he went towards the chair. He stood in front of it and began waving his arms around, circling them like he was stirring a cauldron.


    As his hands went round and round, ribbons emerged. It was like watching a clown pull knotted handkerchiefs from his sleeves, only these weren¡¯t multicoloured, they were black. They streamed out and swirled around an invisible figure, slowly wrapping around a head, then a body. A small, female body.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think that¡¯s Simole,¡± said Nic. It was a crooked and deformed with twisted limbs.


    ¡°Tis a demon,¡± said the Archmage approaching the chair for a closer look.


    Tenner spun on, swiftly working his way down to the feet, the figure swathed in black bandages.


    ¡°And my child, she was within? Hmm. I see. She accelerated the process.¡± He nodded in a way that made Nic think he was being appreciative of whatever it was Simole had done. ¡°And then what, after the transformation...¡±


    Tenner¡¯s ghost leaped back, and began a familiar flailing dance ending again with limbs torn off and a dousing of the light.


    The Archmage once more produced another glowing ball. The light revealed a malicious smile on his lips. ¡°My girl. My clever, clever girl.¡± He moved towards the far wall. ¡°Here.¡± He held up his hand like he was going to place it on the wall, but kept it from touching. ¡°The door is here.¡±


    ¡°A Roke door?¡± asked Nic.


    The Archmage turned sharply. ¡°What do you know of such things?¡± he demanded.


    The intensity of the question set Nic back on his heels.


    ¡°Nothing. It was what Tenner was interested in opening. It¡¯s what his research was about.¡±


    ¡°And is that what brought you and my daughter together? That terrible woman?¡±


    Nic was thrown by the question. ¡°What terrible woman? You mean Winnum Roke?¡±


    ¡°Indeed. Greatest egomaniac Ranvar has ever seen. There¡¯s a statue of her in the Royal College that she commissioned herself.¡± He said it like he could think of no greater crime.


    ¡°Do you know how she died?¡± asked Nic, fascinated by the insight into the woman he had only read about.


    ¡°She killed herself,¡± said the Archmage. He touched the wall and jerked his hand back like he¡¯d pricked himself on a sharp pin.


    Nic couldn¡¯t see anything but a stone wall but he didn¡¯t doubt the door was there if the Archmage said so. ¡°Is Simole going to be alright?¡±


    The Archmage snorted. ¡°I have been training her for this her whole life.¡± He leaned closer, his nose almost touching the wall, like a naughty child told to stand in the corner. ¡°She made the choice to abandon her studies with me and come to this place. I cannot help her now.¡±


    He turned away from the wall and walked back towards the door.


    ¡°Wait,¡± said Nic, a surge of panic making him grab the Archmage¡¯s cloak. ¡°Aren¡¯t you going to bring her back?¡±


    The Archmage stopped and turned around, pulling his garb out of Nic¡¯s hand. ¡°Even if I had the time, I don¡¯t think it would be my place to interfere. And I don¡¯t have the time. The whole world is at risk. What is the fate of one headstrong girl when matched against the ruin of the entire planet?¡±


    Nic was dumbfounded. ¡°But¡­ but¡­ she¡¯s your daughter.¡±


    The Archmage changed from the calm, unaffected sage to an enraged beast, his face so dark and blind with fury the younger man drew back from him in real fear.


    ¡°We¡¯re all someone¡¯s daughter, someone¡¯s son. Are you suggesting she is more important than every other person alive? I should forsake all others to ferry her home? That would be a deed of true ill omen.¡±


    The storm passed as quickly as it had come. The Archmage let out his breath and he seemed to shrink to a more human size.


    ¡°Can¡¯t we help her?¡± Nic asked quietly.


    The Archmage stepped away from Nic. He was a intimidating man, both in size and presence but even though his countenance was fearsome, he spoke softly. ¡°She is indeed more precious to me than any single person, but that doesn¡¯t mean I have the right to ask millions to perish to save her. And you are being presumptuous to think she needs saving. She may very well save us all, if the wind blows in her favour.¡±


    ¡°What kind of chance can she have alone in the Demon Realm?¡± asked Nic.


    ¡°Hardly any,¡± said the Archmage. ¡°It is a desolate land without water, without light, to step foot on that poisonous earth is to enter a dark place to die. Perhaps if she had tethered herself to me as I had prepared her, her chances would be better. Perhaps. But she chose to tie her fate to you. We shall see how her judgement fares.¡±


    Nic was listening intently, waiting for the part that would make sense. The clever plan that had been laid out for just this situation the Archmage had obviously foreseen. But there was no such revelation.


    ¡°Why did you train her to go there? What is she meant to do?¡± His questions had been reduced to desperate pleading. There was nothing he could force the Archmage of Ranvar to do, even if he knew what needed to be done.


    ¡°I never intended to send her into that place. Such an undertaking would be pure folly. Her task was to prevent the opening of the door, not open it herself. I¡¯m not even entirely sure what she¡¯ll find there. I have heard stories of a place joy has abandoned, where terror reigns, about rivers of free-flowing darkness that will dissolve all living matter, and shadow dragons that spew molten rock, yet these could be mere fanciful tales. Who knows?¡±


    Nic felt a great anxiety in his heart. When he thought of her as dead, he felt the pain of loss. But now he knew she was in another world, fighting for her life, the fear for her chewed at him. He wanted to help her but didn¡¯t know how, had no power to lend her.


    ¡°The tether, will she be able to use it to get back?¡±


    The Archmage sighed. ¡°That is what it was made to do, a lifeline to cling to. But it is poorly manifested. If I were the recipient, perhaps I could strengthen the feeble bonds, but I am not. You are.¡±


    ¡°Can¡¯t you transfer it to yourself. Make the bond firmer that way?¡±


    The Archmage took a moment to think about the suggestion. ¡°If she had done a good job I wouldn¡¯t be able to, but this sloppy effort might actually make it possible.¡±


    Nic could see the solution, a way to help Simole. He wasn¡¯t the right person to guide her home. There was only one man suitable for that role.


    ¡°So you¡¯ll transfer the tether?¡± said Nic, trying to speed the process along desperate to put the answer next to the question and hand in the assignment.


    ¡°Oh no, there¡¯s no time for that,¡± said the Archmage. ¡°She has her battles to fight and I have mine. Now that the door is open, new preparations need to be made. Sadly, the most likely outcome is an invasion of the kingdom, followed by the rest of the world.¡±


    Nic couldn¡¯t quite believe it. ¡°You won¡¯t even increase her chances of finding her way back?¡± His words were filled with sheer astonishment.


    ¡°No, you¡¯re right, I should try to increase the odds. Normally, I would allow the situation to run its course, the best teacher is to suffer the consequences of your own actions, but this is a special case, considering there may be nobody left to learn the lesson.¡±


    He talked so much and yet it was hard to pin down how he intended to help. Most of it seemed vague assurances and a deliberate absence of guarantees.


    ¡°Stand still a moment,¡± said the Archmage. He pinched his finger and thumb together and slid them back and forth. ¡°Can you feel it tighten?¡±


    There was a cramp in Nic¡¯s side. He put his hand on his hip, pressing down to relieve the uncomfortable twinge. It began to rise, moving up and across his chest where it settled for a few seconds.


    Nic¡¯s hand followed it across his body. It wasn¡¯t painful but there was some discomfort. It rose to his neck and seemed to tighten considerably then, a collar around his throat, constricting sharply.


    ¡°There, that should hold. Nice and tight.¡±


    Nic had his hand on his throat, struggling to breathe. ¡°Can you loosen it a little, please?¡± he said in a hoarse whisper.


    Archmage Van Dastan wasn¡¯t overly impressed by the request but he raised a hand and the noose around Nic¡¯s neck eased, a little.


    ¡°What am I supposed to do?¡± said Nic, rubbing his neck.


    ¡°Nothing. The doing is down to her. Your only job is to wait. And don¡¯t die young.¡±


    ¡°How long will it take her to come back?¡±


    ¡°Anything from a few days to many years. Just be here for her when she¡¯s ready to return.¡± He turned and walked out of the door, his head hunched between his shoulders as though a great weight pressed down on him.


    Nic remained, wondering what he¡¯d got himself into. She was alive, at least. Beyond that, he had no clear idea of how being tethered would affect him. Not at all, by the sounds of things.


    It quickly darkened in the room as the Archmage¡¯s light followed him out the door. Nic chased after it so he could see the way out. He ran to catch up but the Archmage effortlessly kept his distance, almost floating up the stairs.


    Nic finally caught up when he left the Pagoda. The Archmage was standing in the white fog staring upwards. Nic followed his gaze but the fog was too thick to see beyond the Pagoda¡¯s lower tiers.


    ¡°He is upset,¡± said the Archmage. ¡°He agrees with you. He doesn¡¯t want to leave her.¡±


    Nic assumed he meant the dragon but he neither saw or heard anything. At least somebody in Simole¡¯s family missed her.


    ¡°And what about you?¡± said the Archmage. ¡°Do you plan to enter the Royal College and become a mage?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said Nic. ¡°I don¡¯t have any interest, or ability.¡±


    The Archmage frowned like he considered it a particularly stupid answer. ¡°Neither is necessary to learn the art. Do you know man¡¯s greatest power? Beyond strength or intelligence?¡±


    It was the sort of question they asked in Reason and Logic class. The answer was usually something poetic when it should rightly be money and an effective army.


    ¡°Hope?¡± said Nic.


    ¡°Ha. Hope. What good is that? No, boy. Perseverance. You learn magic by doing magic. Now that I¡¯ve lost my sword, perhaps I should sharpen a new one. What say you, boy? Are you ready for such a challenge. I could train you. You have shown surprising persistence already. There are not many who would dare harry and provoke the Archmage of Ranvar the way you have.¡±


    It was certainly a rare opportunity but all he felt was a deep resentment. He was being offered the chance to study Arcanum at the highest level with its greatest practitioner, to perhaps become as powerful as Simole. But there was a hidden cost. Why offer the role to a talentless child instead of a trained mage? There was only one reason. To be the vassal of a man who saw others as tools to be used, even his own daughter, was to give up a part of himself, even if it was evidently a part only he valued.


    He had been overawed and frightened too much, he had been filled up with fear and and had got sick of it and now he wanted no more.


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°No?¡± said the Archmage. ¡°Is that all?¡±


    ¡°No, thank you,¡± said Nic.


    The Archmage was a little taken aback. ¡°It is not everyday the chance to apprentice with the greatest living mage arises. And fewer days the offer is so firmly rejected.¡±


    ¡°I would rather achieve things for myself and be in no one¡¯s debt,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°As you will. Come, All-Father, we have no time to dawdle.¡±


    The giant serpent slithered down the Pagoda, its wings creating a rush of air ahead of it, clearing some of the fog to reveal itself. The sight was still astonishing.


    ¡°I will secure her body, wherever they¡¯ve placed it, so she will have something to return to. In the meantime, speak to no one about this. She is counting on you, Nicolav Tutt, as am I.¡±


    He climbed onto the dragon¡¯s lowered neck and they rose together in a long, slow, sweeping motion. The mist rose with them, clinging to the dragon and trailing behind it like a gown. All that was left was a dour, chill dawn, the dark starry sky edged by a pale strip of grey.

 Chapter Twenty Two

    ¡°How did he escape?¡± Minister Delcroix¡¯s gaze went from one end of the empty cell to the other for the third time and then alighted on the captain of the prison guard.


    ¡°Not through the door, sir,¡± said the captain, his voice trying to remain steady through sheer force of will.


    The captain was a tall man with several days of growth on his chin. He looked tired and dirty, but his eyes were sharp and defiant. Serving as guardians to the Ministry¡¯s most valued guests was a full-time occupation and all the guards remained in the adjoining quarters.


    There was no leave, no weekends off. They were as much captive as the prisoners, although paid well for the inconvenience. Delcroix had handpicked each himself, and didn¡¯t doubt their competence.


    ¡°We opened up the door to serve the guest his breakfast and found the room empty. No signs of escape. We checked thoroughly.¡±


    Delcroix bowed his head, accepting the captain¡¯s words. The man was clearly upset at having failed to keep the facilities most important guest confined to his specially prepared quarters. He also refused to accept his men had been negligent in any way.


    Delcroix walked across the cell. There was no shimmering wall to keep him from sitting down on the bed. He examined the room from the Archmage¡¯s perspective.


    ¡°And if there is no tunnel or hole in the wall,¡± said Delcroix casually, leaning back to look at the ceiling, ¡°what other method do you think might have been used, Captain?¡±


    ¡°Minister,¡± said the captain, glancing at the two men standing nervously beside him, ¡°I can only imagine it was magic of some sort. He is the Archmage of Ranvar, after all.¡±


    ¡°He is. He was. But there was an Arcanum density field erected here.¡± Delcroix waved a hand at the air in front of him.


    ¡°Yes. And now it¡¯s gone. I¡¯m sorry, sir, but I don¡¯t know enough about these things to explain the¡­ whatever¡­¡± He flapped his hands in frustration, unable to find the words. He stopped and took a breath. ¡°Please, Minister, there must be people better educated in these matters than I who might offer an explanation.¡±


    ¡°Indeed there are,¡± said Delcroix coldly. He stood up, the bedsprings squeaking as he rose, and faced the bewildered captain. The man looked worried to death. ¡°There will have to be a full investigation by the Secret Service, yes, I know how you feel about that, but this happened on your watch and you are ultimately responsible. I¡¯m afraid you will have to submit to their full scrutiny.¡±


    ¡°But Minister¡ª¡± He advanced a step, his face distraught.


    The man to his right grabbed him by the shoulder and held him firmly. The Captain shook off the gripped hand, furious with his subordinate but when he turned to rebuke him, the look of desperate fear he was met with from both escorts quelled his rage.


    The Ministry of Instruction, the Secret Service... they were in enough trouble as it was. No need to make things any worse.


    ¡°Of course, Minister,¡± he said with a resigned air. He stood straight and steady, but his spirit seemed to sag. ¡°I understand and accept my fate, but I want you to know I¡¯m as baffled as to how he affected an escape as anyone. Not only were all our precautions for nought, I have the distinct feeling he could have left at any time he wished.¡±


    ¡°That might very well be true,¡± said Minister Delcroix. ¡°There is only one way to be sure, though. A team from the Royal College will be arriving. You will offer them every assistance.¡±


    The captain, brimming with tight-lipped restraint, bowed dutifully. ¡°Yes, sir.¡±


    ¡°And the other guest? Has she arrived?¡±


    ¡°Yes. We received her a few hours ago.¡±


    ¡°You understand, Captain, that she was his daughter. That her death was probably the reason for his escape and that he may very well come back to reclaim his child. I doubt he¡¯ll be in a good mood.¡±


    ¡°I have been briefed. There are six men in the room with her at all times. Although if he does return, I¡¯m not sure what we¡¯ll be able to do to stop him.¡±


    ¡°You aren¡¯t expected to do anything, Captain, just raise the alarm. There will be others brought in to deal with the Archmage.¡±


    The captain nodded. ¡°The mages you spoke of?¡±


    ¡°Among others. With an opponent this powerful, we need to be prepared on many fronts. Your men will also be issued with devices to help neutralise the threat posed by Arcanum.¡±


    ¡°Understood,¡± said the captain, clear instructions more to his liking than questions he couldn¡¯t answer.


    Minister Delcroix took one last look at the empty cell and left. He made his way up the stairs and walked down the long hallway to his office, organising all the tasks he had ahead of him in his mind. He stopped outside the doors to his offices and pinched the bridge of his nose. He had a severe headache and took a moment to clear his head before entering.


    Stodar, his personal secretary, sat at his large desk, fingers interlaced and a serene look on his face. He slowly turned his head as the minister entered but made no other movement. He didn¡¯t jump to his feet or rush to inform the minister of recent developments, he just sat calmly, waiting.


    As the minister approached the desk, Stodar rose from his chair and picked up a stack of files. He nestled them in the crook of a long, bony arm. ¡°You¡¯re back, Minister.¡±


    Delcroix paused. ¡°Yes, Stodar.¡± He rested a hand on the lacquered desk, steadying himself.


    ¡°You seem rather gloomy, Minister. Perhaps some lunch would help improve your outlook?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s been a difficult morning, Stodar. The nation is under attack, our enemies are growing emboldened and the most powerful mage in the land has broken free of his shackles to exact revenge in what fashion we have yet to see. What kind of luncheon do you think would improve my outlook on all that?¡±


    ¡°Fish pie?¡± said Stodar without the slightest hesitation.


    Delcroix smiled grimly. ¡°Thank you for the recommendation. Perhaps later. Did you send for the Chief of Staff?¡±


    ¡°Yes, Minister. He is waiting in your office now.¡±


    Delcroix looked across the room at the doors that led to his personal office. ¡°Is he alone?¡±


    ¡°He is.¡±


    Delcroix took his hand off the desk and straightened his jacket. The Chief of Staff of the Secret Service was a formidable man with whom he had a long and prickly relationship. Many of their jurisdictions clashed and neither side was keen to relinquish control, on any level.


    ¡°Have some wine sent in. Any Cabernet.¡±


    ¡°The Chief doesn¡¯t drink.¡±


    ¡°I know. And make sure it¡¯s fortified. The stronger the better. What? You don¡¯t approve?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not that, it¡¯s just that it¡¯s customary to drink white wine with fish.¡±


    ¡°The fish pie can wait. Indefinitely. There should also be some mages arriving shortly. See to them.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Minister.¡± He walked around his desk and opened the door.


    Delcroix entered the room and walked over to his own desk. In the chair opposite sat a man, broad shouldered with an aristocratic, stern face, balding white hair cut very short and a large, downturned mouth. Beside him on the armrest rested a golden mask.


    ¡°You must be very busy today, Delcroix,¡± he said quietly with no emotion. ¡°Not often you keep me waiting so long.¡±


    ¡°Indeed, Chief,¡± said Delcroix, equally uninvested. He sat down behind his desk and closed his eyes for a moment, glad to be off his feet. ¡°Such are the demands of my work. You will have heard about our guest¡¯s unplanned departure.¡±


    The head of the Secret Service scowled and clawed at the armrest like an unsettled cat. ¡°Of course. What in damnation are you playing at Delcroix? I thought you had him securely locked away.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± Delcroix paused to consider how to best explain his failure. There seemed no good way. ¡°He is the Archmage, officially or not. A man of such ability is not easily unseated, or kept in confinement.¡±


    ¡°That goes without saying. That was why we went to such extraordinary lengths to make sure he was unable to access those abilities. Did the density field collapse?¡±


    ¡°No. It was turned off.¡±


    ¡°By whom?¡±


    Delcroix laid his hands on the desk and looked out of the window. ¡°I do not know. There was a mage from the Royal College who was installed here along with the density field. He has disappeared.¡±


    The Chief of Staff raised an eyebrow. ¡°Sympathetic to the Archmage¡¯s cause?¡±


    ¡°Possibly sympathetic, possibly coerced. Possibly killed by a third party whose identity we do not know.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a lot of possibilities,¡± said the Chief.


    ¡°Yes. I intend to discover which is the actuality but in the meantime there are other matters to take care of, not least of which is the school.¡±


    ¡°I had a feeling we¡¯d get to that. I suppose you think my agents were somehow responsible for the girl¡¯s demise.¡±


    ¡°They had been briefed to keep the girl safe. They failed to meet those expectations, wouldn¡¯t you say?¡±


    ¡°She was hardly a normal girl. I¡¯ve seen the reports. Damned child could disappear at will. How do you propose we kept her under observation when she could make herself invisible to our most advanced devices? It was a completely impossible task from the outset.¡±


    ¡°Is that what you plan to tell Prince Ranade,¡± said Delcroix. He spoke evenly, without any hint of malice or provocation. Both would have been very easy to inject into his words.


    ¡°Yes,¡± snorted the Chief. ¡°I¡¯m sure that would be well received after I accepted the commission so easily. Look, Delcroix, I realise who¡¯s at fault here. Whatever the difficulties, her safety was my responsibility and her death is squarely on my hands, but this whole debacle was doomed from the start. We should have executed the Archmage and put the girl to work for us after extensive re-education. And I¡¯m not referring to that damned school for spoilt brats. And then there¡¯s this business over in Gweur that¡¯s about to blow up in our faces. We need to be better prepared than this. Those damned mages are supposed to warn us about these things before they happen, not run around like headless chickens crowing about the sky falling down.¡±


    Delcroix remained silent, waiting for the other man to stop puffing and wheezing. Once his reddened face returned to something resembling its original colour, he spoke very gently.


    ¡°What have you heard about the happenings in Gweur?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s hardly a secret, is it? Anarchy reigns. Peasants are killing each other over ownership of empty fields. Minor nobles send their retinues to battle over misremembered grudges. Innocent men hang from trees at the roadside while bandits roam the highways, slitting throats of travelling merchants and tradesmen. The landscape is agog with makeshift gallows. This kind of instability will not end well. Not for them and not for us.¡±


    Delcroix rubbed his brow. ¡°Unstable neighbours are nothing new. In many cases, we have been able to use it to our advantage.¡±


    ¡°This chaos wasn¡¯t instigated by you, was it?¡±


    ¡°No, Chief. My methods are slightly more subtle.¡±


    ¡°Slightly,¡± snarled the Chief.


    ¡°There are other, internal reasons for what is happening across the border. Be assured I am well aware of events and they are being monitored closely. Our own population is more of a concern at the moment.¡±


    ¡°How so?¡±


    ¡°I expect Ranvar to be infiltrated by¡­ unnatural forces. Which is why I would like you to increase your surveillance across all regions.¡±


    ¡°To locate the Archmage?¡±The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    ¡°No. His location is already underway. The infiltration I¡¯m talking about won¡¯t be coming from him. An altogether darker entity will be responsible.¡±


    There was a long silence between the two men.


    ¡°You are sure of this?¡± asked the Chief.


    ¡°As certain as I can be. The girl¡¯s death was not a natural one. She was claimed by those same forces. We can expect the barrier between dimensions to be penetrated, soon.¡±


    The Chief tensed in his chair, his features hardening. ¡°Will the mages be able to deal with any incursions.¡±


    ¡°I believe so. The issue with the Royal College is one of leadership. We took theirs away and to be frank, there isn¡¯t a suitable replacement. We can¡¯t, at the moment, rely on them the way we used to. But they are still a formidable force to use against our enemies, once we identify them.¡±


    ¡°Yes. I see what you¡¯re saying. Forewarned is forearmed. I¡¯ll inform my men. They¡¯ll be spread very thin.¡±


    ¡°I appreciate that, Chief, but they are our best line of defence, even when stretched to the limit.¡±


    The Chief picked up his mask and placed it on his face. A trim, silvery beard appeared on his chin and he had a full head of white hair. He stood up. ¡°First, I have been summoned to the palace.¡± He didn¡¯t sound like he was looking forward to it.


    ¡°Please give His Highness my regards.¡±


    The Chief scowled, the mask making it seem a vicious grimace. ¡°I¡¯ll be sure to do that. Any more errands you¡¯d like me to run?¡±


    ¡°I expect I¡¯ll be summoned myself, shortly,¡± said Delcroix.


    ¡°Yes.¡± The Chief let out a frustrated breath. ¡°I suppose you will.¡±


    ¡°Oh, and Chief, about the school, I¡¯d like you to double the number of agents you have there.¡±


    The Chief¡¯s golden mask glinted, as immobile as a frieze but still able to convey his consternation. ¡°Isn¡¯t it a little late for that?¡±


    Minister Delcroix waited for the hostility from his opposite number to fade before responding. ¡°I hope not. The chaos you refer to is centred on the school. If there¡¯s going to be a breach anywhere, I would expect it to be there.¡±


    The Chief took a moment to take in this information.


    ¡°I understand,¡± he said, calm once more. ¡°I¡¯ll see to it.¡± He left the room, the door opening as he approached it. Once he¡¯d passed through it, Stodar appeared with a bottle on a tray doing his best impression of a wine waiter.


    He placed the tray on the Minister¡¯s desk, opened the bottle and poured the red liquid into a glass.


    ¡°The wine took it¡¯s time getting here,¡± said Decroix.


    ¡°As all good wine does, Minister.¡± Stodar paused, bottle still held at an angle.


    Delcroix noticed the second glass on the tray. ¡°Thank you. That will be all, Stodar. And tell the Chief of Staff I want to see him.¡±


    Stodar put the bottle down and gave the minister a curious look. ¡°You just met with the Chief.¡±


    ¡°Hmm? No, not the Chief. Who do I mean?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know, Minister.¡±


    ¡°Oh, never mind,¡± he said somewhat flustered by the slip of the tongue. ¡°I¡¯m sure I¡¯ll remember in a moment.¡±


    Stodar nodded and left the room.


    Delcroix sat back and let out a long, tired breath. He pinched the bridge of his nose again. He picked up the glass and walked to the back of the room where there was a discreet door to his private dressing room and bathroom.


    Inside, he placed the wine glass by the sink and washed his hands and face. He took long, slow breaths, trying to keep his mind steady and focused. He opened a drawer under the sink and took out a vial of red liquid. The tiny bottle was almost empty.


    He unscrewed the top and poured the last of the contents into the wine. It fizzed and then dissipated. Delcroix raised the glass and swallowed the wine in one go. He grimaced as it went down and then shivered. His breathing suddenly quickened, became rasping and tense, then slowed again.


    The alcohol made the concoction easier to absorb but the harsh taste and potent magic were far from palatable. He looked at the empty bottle. It would help hold his thoughts together for now, but each dose seemed to last for a shorter time.


    He smashed the bottle in the sink and washed the shards down the drain.


    ¡°Master?¡± whispered a scratchy voice from behind him.


    ¡°Yes? What do you have to report?¡±


    ¡°The Archmage. We have found him.¡±


    ¡°Good. Make the necessary preparations.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Master.¡± There was a rush of air and then silence.


    Delcroix spent the rest of the day reading reports and sending out orders. He had a late lunch of fish pie and then met with the mages who had been sent to investigate the Archmage¡¯s disappearance and the body of his daughter.


    There were four of them, each a Master Mage. The Master Mages of the Royal College came in almost all shapes and sizes. None of them, though, looked as the storybooks portrayed them. Long, grey beards and large crooked noses, a pointed hat and a trailing robe with voluminous sleeves. Wizened sages who summoned lightning and fireballs to strike demons down.


    Modern mages served more mundane and specialised roles. One might be expert at manipulating weather, another at predicting future events. Plants and animals had their own disciplines. Every avenue had been researched and reduced to basic elements to narrow mastery. Omnipotence was seen as a dangerous thing, both for the mage and for everyone else.


    Raw, violent power was the rarest ability and the only master of recent years had been the Archmage himself. It made him all the more fearsome as an adversary, as all the other mages knew.


    Delcroix sat with the mages in a small but comfortable chamber, deep under the ministry.


    ¡°He had help,¡± said Berimonga, the most senior of the four. He was completely bald, a bland face but with a striking horizontal scar running under his eyes and across the bridge of his nose. It looked like a dreadful battle wound, but was in fact the result of a simple experiment gone awry in his youth. Such accidents were common although the injuries were rarely as spectacular. Not when the recipient survived, at least.


    Denkne, a slim, sandy-haired man with almond-shaped eyes betraying some foreign ancestry, nodded as he sipped a hot beverage. ¡°Undoubtedly,¡± he muttered from the lip of the cup.


    ¡°I had surmised as much,¡± said Delcroix patiently. Mages, in his experience, liked to express their status through inconveniencing others as much as possible. It was best to allow it. Trying to hurry them along was a fool¡¯s errand. ¡°Is there any way to trace the culprit?¡±


    ¡°Perhaps,¡± said Master Grims, whose speciality was the study of the smallest particles that weren¡¯t even visible to the naked eye. He was a stocky man with a tanned, weather-beaten face. His hands were large and showed the signs of heavy labour. ¡°I¡¯ll tell you one thing for nothing, it was beyond the abilities of young Lenerson. That boy could have turned the density field off, I¡¯ll grant you that, but disappearing without leaving notraces of himself, that¡¯s just not within his range of abilities. I knew him quite well at the college. He had no talents in that direction.¡±


    Lenerson had been the mage who had been given the task of operating and maintaining the density field which had been meant to keep the Archmage imprisoned. His whereabouts were still unknown.


    ¡°This is all well and good,¡± said Borkh, the smallest of the four. He was a very thin and wiry man, his skin heavily wrinkled and his spiky grey hair sticking straight up, giving him a slightly deranged appearance. ¡°The girl, the girl is what we should be discussing with the Honourable Minister.¡±


    ¡°The van Dastan girl? Yes? You discovered something.¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± continued the impish mage. ¡°It¡¯s so obvious you would have seen it yourself if you hadn¡¯t spent so many years letting your own abilities atrophy within these walls.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll have to forgive our colleague,¡± said Berimonga, the strip across his face darkening. ¡°His youthful exuberance sometimes gets the better of him.¡±


    Despite Borkh¡¯s aged features, he was the youngest of the four, his sagging skin another symptom of misused Arcanum.


    ¡°Never mind making excuses,¡± wittered on Borkh. ¡°The girl isn¡¯t dead, that¡¯s the crux of the matter.¡±


    ¡°She isn¡¯t?¡± said Delcroix. ¡°She was examined by a very experienced physician.¡±


    ¡°Yes, yes,¡± said Borkh dismissively, ¡°I¡¯m sure he¡¯s a whiz with clearing allergies and such. The body may have become inert, but the vessel is merely empty. She departed her mortal container and can reoccupy it if she so chooses, or is able.¡±


    Delcroix looked over at Berimonga for confirmation. The large, bald head nodded.


    ¡°I see,¡± said Delcroix. ¡°Do you know why she would have been separated from her body?¡±


    None of the men answered.


    ¡°Hmm. Well, I can¡¯t¡ª¡±


    Borkh jumped out of his seat and yelled, ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter why. The important thing is that if she is alive he will come for her body. Don¡¯t you see?¡±


    Delcroix looked again to Berimonga.


    ¡°Yes, if he is aware of her condition, I believe he will. He wouldn¡¯t entrust her care to anyone else.¡±


    ¡°Aware?¡± squealed Borkh. ¡°Of course he¡¯s aware.¡±


    ¡°I see, I see. I had considered it quite likely he would return in any case, but this would seem to make it a certainty.¡± Delcroix stroked his chin pensively. ¡°So, we could set a trap for him.¡±


    ¡°We could,¡± said Berimonga. ¡°He won¡¯t be easily captured a second time, though. Even if he has lost some of his power, he was always a wily one.¡±


    ¡°And a ruthless one,¡± added Denkne. ¡°A tendency to cruelty, fits of rage and unbridled hostility towards those who displeased him.¡± A faint smile on his lips turned to an ugly grimace. ¡°We have to stop him, still. I have seen the direction fate would steer us. The red, red reflection of blood on polished blades, the screams of people flayed alive, the stench of corpses piled high and set on fire.¡±


    ¡°Enough,¡± said Master Grims, his leathery face grown pale. ¡°You paint a far more grisly picture than necessary. The point. The point is, we must stop him, yes, but how? Have you forgotten his promise to strip us of our power? He wouldn¡¯t make such a claim without the ability to follow through with it, and you can be sure of that.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t you think the girl was the means to that end?¡± said Berimonga. ¡°You saw what she did to poor Ferityn.¡±


    ¡°Then burn the body,¡± said Borkh. ¡°Let her remain in whatever nether realm she resides and remove the threat.¡±


    ¡°And what do you think the Archmage would do then?¡± asked Denkne.


    ¡°He is no longer the Archmage,¡± said Borkh.


    ¡°Not in name, no,¡± said Denkne.


    ¡°Minister,¡± said Berimonga, interrupting the spat, ¡°I will return to the college and inform the acting-Archmage of what we have learned, but it will take some time to formulate a reliable capture plan. In the meantime, would it be possible to increase security around the Royal College?¡±


    Delcroix looked into the mage¡¯s pleading, fearful eyes. ¡°Such a request should be made by the acting-Archmage, ideally to Prince Ranade himself. He would be well within his rights to ask for an audience with his own brother.¡±


    Berimonga looked away. There was a long, nervous silence among the mages.


    ¡°He won¡¯t leave the college,¡± said Borkh. ¡°He is too scared. The Archmage aimed his wrath at Ranofan most of all. He cowers in his chambers.¡±


    ¡°Silence, Borkh,¡± shouted Berimonga. ¡°That is no way to speak of the Archmage.¡±


    ¡°Acting-Archmage,¡± mumbled Borkh.


    ¡°If you could intercede on the college¡¯s behalf, we would be grateful,¡± said Berimonga.


    ¡°I¡¯ll do what I can,¡± said Delcroix.


    After some mollifying reassurances, Delcroix saw the mages to their carriage. They wished to return to the relative safety of the Royal College where they might be protected by the many charms and runes inlaid into the foundations of the building.


    There was yet more to do but the expected summons to the palace did not materialise, which was a blessing. Not because of the dressing down he would no doubt receive but because it would waste valuable time. Prince Ranade, for all his bluster, was a man of good common sense who knew that if he wanted answers, he had to give his men time to find them.


    The summons would come, though, and answers he would need to have. Delcroix asked for his carriage around nine o¡¯clock. The next few days would be demanding and a night at home would probably not be available to him again for some time. A chance to rest his aching head on a familiar pillow seemed very attractive to him.


    The carriage rattled through the city streets and into the countryside, the ambient light fading to grey starlight. There was no moon and the land was defined by differing grades of darkness.


    It was soothing. His thoughts were growing muffled again. The tincture had lasted only a few hours this time. He had no choice but to push through the haze his mind had become, there was too much at risk to do otherwise.


    The horses neighed wildly and the carriage came to a sudden stop, throwing the minister forward along with the other contents of the carriage. He threw out his arm to stop everything falling onto the floor.


    Outside, there was silence. Not even the horses made a sound.


    ¡°What is it?¡± he called out.


    ¡°I¡­ Sir, that is, I think¡­¡±


    ¡°Spit it out, man.¡±


    The driver had been with him for many years, a stout, steady man rarely reduced to stammering.


    ¡°It¡¯s a dragon. In the road. A big one.¡±


    Delcroix opened the carriage door and got out. He looked up at the driver. ¡°Stay here and observe nothing.¡± The driver nodded.


    Delcroix walked towards the large, black dragon blocking the road with its immense body, wings folded and head resting on its forelegs. Steam curled out of its nostrils.


    ¡°Minister,¡± said the Archmage, ¡°nice to see you again.¡±


    ¡°This isn¡¯t where we were to meet,¡± said Delcroix.


    ¡°No. I grew bored of waiting and I had the means of transportation to move our appointment forward. You have my daughter?¡±


    ¡°She is in the carriage.¡±


    ¡°She won¡¯t be missed?¡±


    ¡°I left a simulacrum in her place. I had to wait for the delegation from the Royal College to depart first.¡±


    ¡°I suppose they sent Berimonga, that dullard?¡±


    ¡°Yes. That¡¯s rather an unkind way to refer to a man you yourself trained.¡±


    The Archmage¡¯s severe expression softened. ¡°You are right, Emil, forgive me. My daughter¡¯s condition has left me a little out of sorts and prone to snapping at nothing. It was uncalled for. I take it they didn¡¯t understand the significance of my daughter¡¯s absence?¡±


    ¡°No. They¡¯re far too terrified you are going to fulfill your promise to think very clearly.¡±


    ¡°Ha. What would be the point now? The doorway has already been formed, by my own flesh and blood, no less. Their abilities will be needed, meagre as they are.¡±


    He led the Archmage to the carriage and between them they lifted out Simole¡¯s limp, lifeless body. The Archmage took her in his arms and began the walk towards the dragon, its enormous head raised and watching them intently.


    ¡°Where will you go now?¡± asked Delcroix.


    ¡°Back to my castle to await my daughter. She is our best hope.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t you think they might come looking for you there?¡±


    ¡°If they do, they won¡¯t like what they find. You¡¯re the Minister of Instruction, instruct them to look elsewhere.¡±


    Delcroix frowned, and then grew woozy. He staggered but managed to keep his balance.


    The dragon placed its head flat on the ground so Simole¡¯s body could be draped over its neck. The Archmage climbed on behind her. He took a small packet from his robe and threw it towards Delcroix. It wouldn¡¯t be a difficult catch, normally, but his vision blurred and the packet sailed past him.


    A dark shadowy hand caught it and floated it back to him. He took it and opened the packet unsteadily. There were four small vials inside.


    ¡°You realise manifesting those creatures is probably what caused your condition in the first place.¡±


    Delcroix opened one bottle and drank half of it. His whole body felt like it was on fire. His vision cleared. ¡°These creatures are also the reason you are out here instead of buried under the ministry.¡±


    The Archmage looked like he was about to disagree, but stopped himself.


    ¡°Be careful,¡± he said uncharacteristically gently. ¡°Those are stronger than the other ones I gave you, but the end result will be the same for you as it was for the King. I cannot reverse the effects.¡±


    ¡°I understand, but I have no choice.¡±


    ¡°There is always a choice, Emil. You could do as I did, excise the cancer, lose the majority of your power.¡±


    ¡°This is the wrong time for such dilemmas. She is coming as you keep insisting.¡±


    ¡°That She is. There¡¯s one other thing I must ask of you, Emil. A favour.¡±


    ¡°Yes?¡± It wasn¡¯t like the Archmage to make requests.


    ¡°At my daughter¡¯s school, there is a boy. Nicolav Tutt.¡±


    Delcroix was taken by surprise. He hadn¡¯t expected the Archmage to mention that name, or even to have ever heard of it.


    ¡°You know him?¡± asked the Archmage.


    ¡°Yes. He is the son of one of my wife¡¯s maids.¡±


    It was the Archmage¡¯s turn to look surprised. ¡°A maid¡¯s son? I had thought maybe the child of a minor nobleman.¡±


    ¡°No. I knew his father. A soldier, at least in appearance. He worked for me.¡±


    ¡°Worked? He died?¡±


    ¡°Yes. He was a gifted man. I had hoped his son was the same, but he has never shown signs of it, although he is unusual in his own way. What is your interest in the boy?¡±


    ¡°He is very important to me, to my daughter. He is her way back. As far as I can tell, he has absolutely no means to defend himself, and I fear he will have to. I wish you to ensure his safety. ¡±


    Delcroix smiled at this strange intersection of their interests. ¡°I will.¡±


    The dragon sprang into the air, opened its wings and its dark shape quickly rose into the night sky.


    Delcroix returned to the carriage where his driver¡¯s bowed head stared resolutely downwards, as did the two horses. He climbed in and they moved forward again to spend one last night at home.

 Chapter Twenty Three

    ¡°I¡¯m starting to find these people quite easy to detest,¡± Davo said under his breath as his eyes scanned the cafeteria. ¡°I came here to mix with them, ingratiate myself into their lives, form connections to further my ambitions¡ªall very cynical motives to sell greater quantities of luxury goods to their excessively affluent families¡ªand yet spending time in their midst has left me wishing nothing more than to never have to do business with any of these puffed up little reprobates.¡±


    Nic looked up from his bowl of porridge. The cafeteria was filled with students eating breakfast, chatting, getting up and sitting down in an endless game of musical chairs. Their lives were continuing as normal, taking them closer to their goals as expected.


    ¡°Look at them,¡± muttered Davo. ¡°Pretending to be engrossed in their pointless lives, all the time sneaking looks in our direction. Look, look,¡± he insisted. ¡°Do you see? The quick glance, the sideways peek. They don¡¯t want to admit their interest, their prurient fascination with the dirt under their shoes, but they can¡¯t help it.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t you think he¡¯s got something to do with it?¡± said Nic, nodding his head towards the Secret Service agent standing to attention behind them.


    Davo turned his head and casually looked the man up and down. He wore a white mask covering half his face and was dressed in black from head to foot. A sword hilt stuck out from his back. Not a ceremonial weapon; the handle showed signs of constant use, worn down to a polished smoothness.


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Davo, ¡°I suppose he doesn¡¯t help. Are you hungry, sir? You¡¯re looking a little pale. Can I offer you some toast and jam?¡± Davo spoke loudly and slowly, like he was talking to a slightly deaf aunt. ¡°It¡¯s supposed to be gooseberry but tastes more like nettles in syrup.¡±


    The agent didn¡¯t respond, didn¡¯t move at all. He stood ramrod straight and stared over their heads at nothing.


    Nic had returned from the Pagoda, from its ruins, his head swirling with thoughts of the Archmage and Simole, forgetting the cottage was under guard. He¡¯d walked up to the front door and startled himself when he looked up from his crowded thoughts to find the white mask waiting for him.


    There had been no reaction then, either. No questioning, no demand to know where he¡¯d been. That agent¡¯s role outside the cottage was the same as this one¡¯s¡ªthe same one? He couldn¡¯t tell¡ªto be seen. So others would know to leave them alone.


    He sensed the Secret Service didn¡¯t do this happily. They preferred to stay out of sight and work from the shadows, as any secret organisation would. It was more than likely they had been ordered to babysit the Also-Rans, and Nic had a good idea by whom. He should have been grateful. Relieved he didn¡¯t have to worry about threats to his safety from supernatural sources or disgruntled students. It was, without doubt, reassuring¡ªnot even the most belligerent bully would dare accost them now¡ªbut it was also belittling. Another clear signal to all and sundry that they were helpless babes in need of special care and attention. All the more humiliating because it was true.


    Davo pushed his tray of untouched food away with a grimace, as though the sight of it was upsetting him. ¡°Contempt for your customers is a terrible thing in a salesman. It makes for very small profit margins.¡±


    ¡°Can¡¯t you just pretend to like them?¡± asked Fanny between mouthfuls of porridge. ¡°I see salesmen do that all the time.¡±


    ¡°Bad salesmen,¡± said Davo. ¡°I¡¯m not a clown to put on a show. A gentleman has principles he needs to adhere to if he wishes to look himself in the mirror every morning. A life of fakery and deceit is beneath me, and also exhausting. Better to have myself brainwashed and forget everything I¡¯ve learned here. I never knew ignorance could be so appealing. Why are you bolting your food like that? Are you in a rush to get to class or something?¡±


    Fanny¡¯s bowl rose higher and higher off the table as he spooned the contents into his mouth, finally dispensing with the spoon altogether and pouring the dregs of milk directly into his mouth. He dropped the bowl onto the tray and wiped his mouth.


    ¡°Can¡¯t waste time on eating, too much to do.¡±


    Davo raised a curious eyebrow and then tilted his head up and down, assessing the situation. His gaze paused under the table. ¡°What¡¯s that in your pocket?¡±


    ¡°Nothing,¡± said Fanny, rapidly applying gooseberry jam to a slice of toast.


    Davo prodded him under the table. The toast jumped out of Fanny¡¯s hands to be quickly grabbed again from mid-air and inserted into a waiting mouth like this was how to eat toast with style.


    ¡°Don¡¯t do that,¡± said Fanny through the toast. ¡°It¡¯s just a potato.¡±


    ¡°Why do you have a potato in your pocket?¡± asked Davo. ¡°Where did you get it?¡± He looked around as if checking for someone handing out free potatoes. ¡°You didn¡¯t steal it from the kitchen, did you?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said Fanny. ¡°I asked them if they had any spare and they let me borrow one.¡±


    ¡°You borrowed a potato? They want it back after you¡¯ve finished with it? What exactly are your plans for Mr Potato?¡±


    ¡°I need him¡ªI need it for my experiments. The detector¡¯s run out of the raw Arcanum Simole¡­¡± Fanny¡¯s voice caught in his throat for a second before he recovered himself with a sharp cough into his fist. ¡°The charge she put in it is all gone so I need to find a new way to power it.¡±


    ¡°And the potato¡­?¡±


    ¡°Potatoes soak up Arcanum from the air, everyone knows that. That¡¯s why mages eat so many.¡±


    Davo¡¯s face expressed his consternation with a sneer. ¡°Everyone eats potatoes. They¡¯re potatoes. I don¡¯t think some old wives¡¯ tale is going to¡ª¡±


    ¡°It may just be a myth,¡± said Fanny harshly, ¡°but it¡¯s still worth checking out. She isn¡¯t dead.¡±


    There was an awkward silence. Nic hadn¡¯t told them about his encounter with the Archmage or revealed what had happened to Simole. Fanny had come to the conclusion she was still alive on his own and without any evidence, just his own desperate need to believe it.


    He wanted to tell them but felt cautious both because of the danger it would bring them closer to and because he didn¡¯t know who was listening. But he didn¡¯t want to keep the truth from them any more than he¡¯d want it kept from himself. He looked up at the Secret Service agent who they had decided to call Agent White even though he may have been one of many white masked agents.


    ¡°Fanny,¡± said Davo softly, ¡°I know you want¡ª¡±


    ¡°What do you know?¡± said Fanny. ¡°You don¡¯t know anything, none of us do. This is magic. Demons. Death means nothing. It¡¯s not even permanent.¡±


    Davo shook his head. ¡°We saw her body. Nic, tell him.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Nic,¡± said Fanny. ¡°Tell him.¡±


    Nic looked at the agent again, still resolutely ignoring them. He looked at Davo and then Fanny. ¡°You should keep working on it. I¡¯ll try to find a new source of Arcanum.¡±


    Both boys stared at Nic.


    ¡°But why didn¡¯t you¡ª¡± Davo caught himself and looked up at the agent, then back to Nic. ¡°I see. Are you sure?¡±


    Nic nodded.


    Fanny stood up. ¡°I knew it. I knew it.¡± He took a large potato out of his pocket and put it on the tray. ¡°Someone put that back in the kitchen for me. I¡¯ll see you in class.¡±


    Fanny rushed off, his eyes sparkling with intent.


    Davo watched him go and then turned his head towards the immobile agent. ¡°He¡¯s just here for you, isn¡¯t he?¡±


    Nic shrugged. ¡°Maybe. Probably. I don¡¯t think he¡¯s happy about it though.¡± He joined Davo in staring at the reluctant babysitter.


    ¡°No point pouting about it, Agent White,¡± said Davo to the statuesque, non-pouting agent. ¡°We all have a job to do.¡± He drew his tray closer and began eating, his appetite having returned.


    Mallory sat down in Fanny¡¯s recently vacated chair with a tray loaded with just about every dish on the breakfast menu. Two bowls of oatmeal, a stack of toast, a bigger stack of pancakes, syrup, jam, butter, a pitcher of milk, sweet rolls, swirly pastries, boiled eggs in a bowl... the tray had hardly any room left with some dishes balanced on top of others.


    ¡°Hey, there,¡± was all he said before starting to eat.


    The others watched him for a moment, mesmerised by his constantly moving hands. He didn¡¯t eat one dish at a time, he grabbed a little from each using both hands and filling his mouth from all angles.


    He didn¡¯t usually join them for meals, either eating at other times or eating somewhere else entirely, so it was hard to tell if this was his normal method of feeding or if he was just in a rush today.


    ¡°We haven¡¯t seen you in a while,¡± said Davo.


    ¡°No, been keeping busy. How¡¯s it going?¡± He didn¡¯t look up as he continued shovelling food.


    Nic and Davo exchanged a look, neither knowing where to start.


    Mallory raised his head, his cheeks full. ¡°I heard the girl left. She didn¡¯t get kicked out, did she? It¡¯s the main gossip in the second year.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said Nic. ¡°Not exactly.¡± He didn¡¯t know what the students had been told about Simole, if anything. Dizzy was the only one who knew the truth and it was unlikely she would talk. Although maybe he was wrong about that. Malory seemed to be under the impression Simole had simply left.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t think anyone would notice,¡± said Nic.


    Mallory took a moment to swallow before answering. ¡°After what she did to the Red Mage? She was all anybody could talk about, and then poof!¡± He snapped his fingers. ¡°Gone.¡± He resumed eating. ¡°Most people think she got called up to the Royal College¡ªfast tracked. No one¡¯s going to say she didn¡¯t deserve it.¡± He looked up again, waiting for some kind of confirmation. ¡°She arrange for him?¡± He tilted his head at the agent standing motionless.


    Nic wasn¡¯t sure how much Mallory knew about Simole¡¯s background. The incident with the dragons must have tipped some people off. He knew how strong she was from personal experience and how she had been the main reason the Also-Rans had been left alone, more or less. And what it meant now she was gone. It stood to reason the Secret Service agent would be a replacement for her, but who did he think she was to be able to arrange it?


    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you tell us about the streaming?¡± said Nic.


    Mallory stopped eating. ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°They put us in the bottom stream,¡± said Davo, ¡°so they could kick us out at the end of the year.¡±


    Mallory continued chewing, but slower. ¡°I had no idea. They didn¡¯t do that to us. Just threw us into the deep end and waited for us to sink or swim. Mainly sink. If they went out of their way to hold you back, I can only imagine they saw her as some kind of threat. Unless it was you they wanted to shackle.¡±


    He gave Nic a questioning look, then returned to his octopus eating strategy.


    ¡°Are you really this hungry?¡± asked Davo, unable to take his eyes off the darting hands.


    ¡°Carbo-loading,¡± said Mallory. ¡°For the Arts Course.¡±


    Nic and Davo shrugged at each other.


    Mallory gulped, the bulge visibly passing down his throat. ¡°They don¡¯t really teach us any magic but they do lots of stress tests.¡± He popped more food into his mouth. ¡°Lets them see how much you can take.¡± Another spoonful of something moving too fast to identify, followed by a swig of milk. ¡°Uses up a lot of energy. If you don¡¯t stock up like a bear for winter, you¡¯ll pass out.¡±


    He stopped, leaned back and blew air at the ceiling. He arched his back and his distended stomach poked over the table.Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.


    ¡°What you guys don¡¯t get yet is how little books can teach you in the end. You have to do the practical stuff to really understand. You can read it, absorb it, see it in your mind well enough to pass any exam, but it¡¯s only when you do it yourself that you form the connection, you know?¡±


    ¡°Yes, of course,¡± said Davo.


    ¡°No.¡± Mallory shook his head dismissively. ¡°I was the same. Thought I was just below the threshold. I was miles away. That¡¯s the crazy part, just how far from being useful you are. I mean, useful. To be able to use what you¡¯ve learned.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s not really much we can do about that,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°No? You¡¯d be surprised. If I¡¯d known from the beginning, I would have done things very differently.¡±


    ¡°Like what?¡± said Davo.


    ¡°Like find a person who knows what they¡¯re doing and work for them. For free. Even if it¡¯s simple, basic stuff.¡±


    ¡°Which subject are you talking about?¡± said Davo.


    ¡°All of them. Any of them. Getting your hands dirty in the real world makes a huge difference. They teach you about it in the third term, but it¡¯s too late by then, if you ask me. Applicational Physics, it¡¯s called. Mr Robad, usually. Definitely take that class.¡± He paused and looked at the two of them. ¡°Actually, don¡¯t. I can sum it up for you in five minutes. The main example is doctors. You know the number one cause of death in hospitals? First year residents. They take the brightest and smartest people, train them for many years, explain everything, let them practise on cadavers and the moment they let them loose on real people, absolutely useless.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± said Davo. ¡°The number one killer?¡±


    ¡°Those are the government statistics, so who knows? The point is, knowledge can prepare you, but training is training. You have to do the real thing to understand what the words in the book actually mean. If you take the reverse, a field hospital in a war zone, stick a scalpel in some grunt¡¯s hand and show him how to chop someone¡¯s leg off, in a week he¡¯ll be as good as any surgeon in the unit.¡±


    Davo scoffed. ¡°There¡¯s no way that¡¯s true. I mean, yes, you have to learn through experience, but you¡¯re exaggerating, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    Mallory shrugged. ¡°Perhaps. But say it was completely as I say, how would that change your approach to learning? I mean, if your goal wasn¡¯t to just pass exams and collect certificates.¡±


    He stood up and brushed the crumbs off his front. ¡°Something to keep in mind. I have to go.¡±


    He rushed off and left them digesting his words.


    They finished their breakfast at a more leisurely place and made their way to the first lesson of the day. Agent White walked a few strides behind them, drawing looks from everyone they passed. Fanny was waiting for them by the door, too nervous to go in alone.


    The class was called Pre-emptive Strategy and was part of the Military History course. Their new schedule consisted of many fragmented subjects, each focusing on a singular element. Advanced Calculations, for example, now included Trajectory Evaluation, Fast Estimation Protocol, Density Reversals and Load Bearing Technique. Each was a small subject that they would have studied for a day at most. Now they analysed each with intense detail for an entire term. Often with very odd examples that didn¡¯t seem to have much to do with the subject.


    Military History was broken up into six different disciplines and each had a separate teacher. So far, they had encountered none of the tutors who had taught them in the lower tier.


    That changed when Mr Varity came walking into Pre-emp. with a stack of papers he could barely see over.


    Nic felt a slight twinge of betrayal at the sight of him. Here was someone who knew what was being done to the four of them but said nothing. Of course, there was nothing he could have said. It wasn¡¯t like he had shown any particular sympathy towards the Also-Rans, not like Mr Tenner. Varity had just been doing his job, and had been reasonably kind to them, which was as much as you could expect. Unless there were ulterior motives, as Nic had come to learn.


    ¡°Yes, yes, where were we?¡± Mr Varity mumbled as he sorted out his files. ¡°Oh, new faces and yet old faces. Welcome gentlemen, nice to see you again.¡± It was business as usual, nothing worth getting worked up about. ¡°And a guardian angel, I see.¡±


    Agent White was standing at the back of the room, no more animated than a chair or desk. The students, who had very deliberately ignored them when they had entered, now all turned to look. Other than Dizzy who continued to look straight ahead.


    ¡°Interesting, interesting,¡± Varity muttered to himself. ¡°Let¡¯s begin, then, shall we? An action, let¡¯s say offering someone a glass of water. Benign, courteous. If I offer the glass to a thirsty man, I am a wonderful human being. If I offer the same glass to a man drowning in a lake, I¡¯m a cruel and twisted individual. Same action, different interpretation due to context.¡±


    Nic listened, waiting for the segue that would make it clear how this related to the subject they were supposed to be studying. He had no idea why they felt it necessary to approach everything from such tangential origins. Simply stating what they meant would make it a lot quicker, he felt.


    ¡°It is never enough to know what you intend and act like that will be enough for you to achieve your objective. You never act in a vacuum. How others see your actions will affect events, so it is in your interest to determine what those interpretations will be.¡±


    People were taking notes. Nic didn¡¯t see the point. What Mr Varity was saying wasn¡¯t hard to understand.


    ¡°Information is king. What you know about your opponent will guide your actions. But their position is never static. You wish to marry the love of your life. You determine by clever questioning that she is responsive to your advances. You buy a diamond ring and rush to proclaim your affection, but in that small window of opportunity, she met and fell for another suitor.¡± He looked around the room. ¡°How could you have known? How could you have avoided this unfortunate outcome?¡±


    Treating your bride to be as an opponent seemed rather an odd way of thinking, but Nic understood the general point. The more you know, the less chance of the wrong outcome. Meaning what? Information gathering, spies, grooming of sympathisers. Bribes and threats and stolen communications. These were all standard methods used in times of war, and in times of peace.


    ¡°Control,¡± said Mr Varity. ¡°If you control the target of your interest, then you control the outcome. If the target is unaware of the influence, if they believe their choice is their own, no one is unhappy with the result.¡±


    Was he advocating mind control? Brainwashing? Nic knew what that was like. He understood how it felt to believe your actions were your own when they weren¡¯t. He had been perfectly happy doing what people told him when he had no idea it was their will he was following and not his own. And how it felt once he was made aware of the truth. It was not the happy result Mr Varity painted it as.


    Nic glanced around the classroom, the backs of heads, doing his best to not alight on the one that drew his attention most.


    These were the students who were most comfortable in this setting. They never gave the impression they didn¡¯t belong. They had every advantage at their disposal, and knowing that was often enough for them to not need those advantages. It was a peculiar irony; having what you needed gave you the freedom to not need it.


    What would it take to control them, to have them do as he wished without realising? Would he be able to resist them when they tried to do the same to him?


    He had spent his life reading books, trying to glean the secrets hidden between words, when the people who were most successful in this world were able to fulfil their potential simply because it was expected of them. This was what he should study.


    He turned his notebook over and turned it upside down. He opened it and began taking notes, not on the class but on his classmates. He would turn his well-honed ability to understand a problem on the people who were the problem. How they behaved, what drove them, their strengths and weaknesses.


    His notes quickly filled the page. He didn¡¯t mention names or specific identifiers. If the book was found and read by someone mentioned within, it would make for an awkward conversation. Instead, he made up aliases and created fanciful scenarios.


    This girl was a shopkeeper in a shoe shop. This boy was a knight on a quest. Dizzy was a dragon living in a castle on a mountain.


    He disguised them, made his observations part of a story. Fairytales. Stories like those in Winnum Roke¡¯s book. The realisation shook him. Had she written her book for the same reasons?


    ¡°Taking control of a situation is the best way to predict it. Consider what happened at the Battle of Au Mare.¡±


    Nic¡¯s ears pricked up at the mention of the name. He knew it well, better than any other battle of the last thousand years. It was the battle his father had died in.


    ¡°General Alphendo, one of the greatest military minds of his time, had command of a cavalry that was undefeated in seventeen battles. He was known to have complex and detailed battle plans drawn up for each engagement which he shared with his commanders. When a copy of one of those plans was found on the body of a dead officer washed up with the wreckage of a frigate, our forces had a distinct advantage.


    ¡°But General Rangol understood the multifaceted nature of information. If it was real, they would win. If it was fake, planted to deceive, we would be led into a terrible defeat. But if he planned for both eventualities, he could gain the upper hand no matter what. Even a fake plan reveals what the enemy would like you to do, and in doing so, reveals his own plans.


    ¡°Of course, had General Alphendo taken this class, he would have realised he could use that to his own advantage, and history might have recorded quite a different victor.¡±


    Varity went on and on about one side outsmarting the other. Bluff and double bluff. The lesson ended. Nic still wasn¡¯t sure what the point had been other than a description of war as an endless series of mind games and second guessing. Hopefully things would become clearer as the lessons continued.


    By lunchtime he had divided his notebook into two equally full sections. At the front, his class notes, at the back, stories featuring the twelve members of his class. So far he had only collected superficial observations, but it would be the bedrock for a far more encyclopaedic work. He didn¡¯t know what use he would put it to, but he felt sure there was something to be gained from studying the world around him. Mallory had impressed on him the need to put skills to use in order to truly master them, but he had no skills other than studying.


    He knew he had to become stronger in some way. If Simole had made him her anchor, then he would find a way to stay rooted. He didn¡¯t expect to be left alone to do that. And he didn¡¯t expect those protecting him for now to always be there.


    Fanny bolted his food as usual and then wanted to go to the library. Of the three of them, he was the one most driven. He seemed to know exactly what needed to be done.


    Nic didn¡¯t do too badly keeping up when it came to packing away lunch in record time while Davo looked on with horror at the poor table manners. They had half an hour to spend in the library but Fanny disappeared into the stacks like he only had five minutes at most.


    Nic made his way to the reception desk where the librarian was busy with her work. Agent White stood at Nic¡¯s shoulder as he waited for the librarian to notice him.


    ¡°Mr Tutt. How can I help you.¡± There was no sign of familiarity, no indication anything had occurred between them other than the normal student-librarian interactions one would expect.


    ¡°I¡­ would like the key back.¡±


    ¡°Which key?¡± asked the librarian, she looked over her glasses at him, and then up at the Secret Service agent, as everyone did.


    ¡°The key to the library. And also, I¡¯d like a private study upstairs. Any room.¡±


    The librarian looked mildly surprised, which for her was quite a big response. ¡°I believe the Headmaster already made his views clear on the matter¡±


    ¡°If you contact his office I think you¡¯ll find his views have changed.¡±


    Minister Delcroix had warned him not to provoke the Headmaster, but there was no point having the resources around him if he wasn¡¯t able to use them. And the Minister had said he should have all his previous privileges reinstated. His actions might annoy the Headmaster, but inaction might have far worse consequences.


    ¡°I¡¯ll check with the Headmaster¡¯s office.¡±


    Nic nodded and left. There were other things he would have liked to have spoken to her about, but it was difficult with his constant escort. He would have to find a way to reclaim some sort of privacy.


    After classes, he returned to the library and was handed two keys by the librarian. She said nothing but there was the slightest glimmer of a smile on her lips. He went up to the private study room allocated to him, not the one Tenner had been in, and arranged three chairs around the table. Davo and Fanny claimed their seats and they all looked at each other across the table like directors at a board meeting immensely pleased with the quarterly report. Agent White stood in the corner. If he was impressed he didn¡¯t show it.


    By the time they returned to the cottage, Nic was exhausted. He felt like he wasn¡¯t just reading books and trying to assimilate the information, it was like he was juggling them at the same time.


    He lay on his bed with a copy of Wink Monroe¡¯s book of fairytales. He read the first paragraph of the first story, a fairly straightforward fable about selling your soul which he¡¯d read countless times. Now it seemed to be entirely new to him.


    A loathing fascination held him


    His senses fully alert


    He listened, striving to understand


    The Lady in the Shadows


    He didn¡¯t get any further. His eyes closed and sleep drowned his thoughts.


    A weight pulled down his whole body, a lethargy which he fought against but couldn¡¯t shake off.


    A sound like rushing wind filled his ears, though there was no movement. The sound grew, louder, louder, until¡­ At the limits of his vision, a mass of squirming tendrils seeped into view, grotesque limbs worming their way towards him. Their dancing, sickening motion reminded him of tentacles, wet and slippery, weaving through the darkness. Two pinpoints of light glinted above the tentacles, cold blue and piercing. Eyes. The rushing sound grew still louder, as loud as a hurricane, so loud he thought his eardrums would burst.


    There was a crash and Nic sat up. His lamp was still lit and he was on his bed, fully clothed. Fanny was standing in the open doorway, the door flung open.


    ¡°What happened?¡± said Fanny. ¡°Is she here?¡±


    ¡°Who?¡± said Nic, groggy with sleep.


    Davo appeared behind Fanny. ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡±


    ¡°The detector,¡± said Fanny, holding up the box. ¡°It¡¯s fully charged.¡±


    ¡°How?¡± said Nic, shaking himself fully awake.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. It just filled up out of nowhere. Things going mad. It must be her.¡±


    They all looked around but nothing had changed. Nic expected the Secret Service agent to come running in, but he didn¡¯t make an appearance. It would take more than some boys making a ruckus to drag him from his post, it seemed.


    ¡°There¡¯s nothing here,¡± said Davo. He dropped his voice to a whisper. ¡°And keep your voice down, Agent White¡¯s probably taking notes.¡±


    Fanny waved the detector about. ¡°No, it¡¯s gone,¡± he muttered more quietly. ¡°Maybe it was a failed attempt. I think she¡¯s coming.¡±


    ¡°Well let¡¯s hope so. I certainly don¡¯t want to have to go fetch her.¡±


    Fanny was too busy fiddling with the fully charged detector to listen. He wandered back to his room to make adjustments. Davo shook his head and pulled Nic¡¯s door closed.


    Nic got changed and fell back on the bed. Maybe it had been Simole, trying to get back. Perhaps the dream he¡¯d had was an indication of where she was. He shuddered and turned off the lamp. He couldn¡¯t help her, he could only be as ready as possible for when she needed him.


    There was a sound in the dark room, somewhere across the room. He stiffened. It sounded like soft footsteps. He opened his eyes but they hadn¡¯t adjusted to the dark and he couldn¡¯t see anything.


    He sat up and tried to shout but a hand covered his mouth and pushed him back onto the pillow.


    ¡°Quiet, young master,¡± said a man¡¯s voice. It sounded young and gentle. Not threatening, not violent. The hand lifted from his mouth. ¡°I will not hurt you. I will help you in any way I can.¡±


    ¡°Help me with what?¡± said Nic, his words trembling out of him. The voice was kind but now he could make out a shape. A hooded head with two pinpoints of light, cold blue and piercing.


    ¡°Whatever you wish. She has made you her vessel, her ferry to the shore.¡±


    ¡°Who has?¡±


    ¡°My Lady of the Shadows.¡±


    And it suddenly occurred to Nic that the Archmage may have been wrong. What if it wasn¡¯t Simole who had tethered herself to him? What if it was someone else? What if it was somethingelse?

 Chapter Twenty Four

    The stranger sitting on Nic¡¯s bed pulled back his hood to reveal a mass of curly hair. It was impossible to tell the colour in the darkened room, but it was thick and unruly, suggestive of youth.


    As Nic¡¯s eyes grew accustomed to the gloom, he could make out the features. A prominent nose, a pointed chin. He could have been a student, if it weren¡¯t for his eerily luminescent eyes.


    Their blue glow wasn¡¯t like that of a cat¡¯s, reflecting light like a small mirror, there was movement to it, crackles and sparks. It was as though his pupils were on fire. It was clearly some kind of side effect of Arcanum, but Nic had never seen something so pronounced.


    ¡°We do not have much time, young master,¡± said the man, his voice low and urgent. ¡°Take this.¡±


    Nic felt something small and round thrust into his hand.


    ¡°If you need help, use this to call us. We are many and ready to do what we can.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t understand,¡± said Nic, keeping his voice low. He didn¡¯t fear the intruder, didn¡¯t feel threatened. There was something calming and also intriguing about the man¡¯s voice, the way he seemed to treat Nic like an old acquaintance. A friend, even.


    Nic had expected the Secret Service agent to come running in¡ªsurely he would have detected an intruder so heavily contaminated by Arcanum¡ªbut there were no sounds of footsteps, no doors being thrown open. Now, he hoped the agent wouldn¡¯t hear them, not until Nic could get some answers. ¡°Who are you?¡±


    ¡°Call me Seth. I am your devoted servant. My life is yours if need be.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± was all Nic could think to say. He felt foolish and confused. He wasn¡¯t scared but he didn¡¯t trust this man either. ¡°But I don¡¯t want your life. Who is this Lady of the Shadows?¡±


    There was a slight shift in weight on the bed, a withdrawal into surprise. ¡°The one who bound her love to you. The one who made you her voice in this world. Her warmth is on you, like the blessed last touch of the setting sun.¡±


    The more he spoke, the more the gentleness of his voice was eroded by the oddness of his words. He sounded like the religious fanatics who would occasionally stand on a box in the market and implore people to follow their deity of choice; the only one who could lead them to salvation. There were numerous religions to choose from in Ranvar, but none that offered rewards before death. In a country where magic existed, people required more tangible evidence of godliness. The marketplace zealots were roundly ignored and often chased away for taking up valuable trading space.


    One thing was certain, though. Whatever facet of the divine this man believed had attached itself to Nic, he clearly didn¡¯t mean Simole.


    ¡°Whose touch? Who are you talking about?¡±


    ¡°You do not know?¡± He seemed thrown by Nic¡¯s refusal to join in with his avid acclamations. ¡°Perhaps you know her by another name? Our Reverend Mother, The Lady Junia?¡±


    Nic recalled Mr Tenner referring to Professor Veristotle as Old Mother. He strongly suspected this was the person, the entity, this man was talking about. A demon. A powerful creature from another world who had needed Simole¡¯s power for its own ends.


    If the tether the Archmage had detected was not from Simole, if it was from this demon, shouldn¡¯t the Archmage have been able to tell? Was he unable to differentiate between a demon and his own daughter?


    ¡°I don¡¯t know who that is,¡± said Nic. ¡°I don¡¯t know anyone called Junia. I¡¯m just a student here, and you¡¯re a strange man who¡¯s broken into my room in the middle of the night. Are you going to hurt me?¡±


    The man jumped off the bed and backed away. It was too dark to see his expression but his body movements suggested he was appalled by the idea anyone would think he was here to do harm. Truthfully, Nic didn¡¯t think so either, but he felt it was best to play dumb and try to draw information out of the man.


    ¡°I see,¡± said Seth. ¡°You are the anchor but you do not know which ship you hold fast. Tell me, are you a true Ranvarian?¡±


    It felt like a dangerous question, the answer to which could swing him into or out of favour. He didn¡¯t know which way to answer. Was this man a fanatic who believed in the glory of Ranvar at whatever cost, or a fanatic who wished to see Ranvar fall and crumble?


    ¡°I was born in Ranvar. My mother is a maid and my father is dead. I don¡¯t know any other life.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Seth. ¡°Yes, I see why My Lady chose you. You are the symbol of Ranvar we need to stand behind. We shall My Lady, we shall.¡± His voice grew louder, still no one came running in.


    ¡°Who is the Lady of the Shadows?¡± Nic asked again.


    ¡°She is the one who will deliver us from Ranvar¡¯s tyranny. She brings us the power to wield Arcanum. Does that surprise you, my young master? Did you think only the chosen few, the special ones, could use magic? You have been lied to. There is no limitation on who can cast spells and shape the shadows.


    ¡°Your leaders, they hoard the power, keep it for themselves. They know if it were ever to fall into the hands of the common people, we would rise up against them and throw them out of their palaces and mansions.¡±


    The cold blue flames dancing in his eyes flared and Nic reflexively flinched back, pushing into his pillow. He thought about the pen. He had left it on his desk. If Seth lost control of the Arcanum he already seemed to be barely managing to keep in check, the pen might be the only thing that could save him.


    Seth came closer, sat down on the bed and leaned in. ¡°We can show you how to become as powerful as them. With your soul bound to hers, there is nothing you could not accomplish. Nothing.¡±


    He grabbed Nic¡¯s hand in both of his, squeezed it around the sphere in his palm. A flicker of blue light enveloped their combined fists.


    ¡°With this you can contact me. Break it and I will know you need my assistance. Do not let them know what you are. If they find out, they will take you to one of their special cells and there will be little I can do to save you from that place.¡±


    That part Nic didn¡¯t need convincing of. This man didn¡¯t seem like he was going to be anyone¡¯s saviour. In fact he would more likely do harm, most probably to himself.


    ¡°She chose you for a reason. She will come to you when the time is right, and she will tell you what you must do. What needs to be done. The people of Gweur are with you. When you call on us, we will be ready.¡±


    He stood up again, gave Nic a nod that was almost a short bow, and then he disappeared.


    There was no movement, no fading from sight. He was standing in front of Nic, and then he wasn¡¯t.


    Nic jumped out of bed. His shirt stuck to his back which was covered in sweat. He had remained calm in his mind, but his body had reacted with fear. He was shaking.


    There was a perfect spherical stone in his hand. He went to the desk and dropped it in a drawer. He picked up the pen. There was no real need for it, nothing to protect himself from, but he still felt safer with it in his hands. Then he left the room, quietly but quickly. He went to the door of the cottage and opened it.


    The cold night air washed over him, leaving an instant chill. He stuck his head through the door.


    The white-masked Secret Service agent was standing in his usual place. He turned his head to look at Nic. He couldn¡¯t tell if it was the same white-masked agent, but it was certainly a member of the Secret Service, standing guard, apparently to no great effect.


    Nic retreated inside, closing the door behind him. Whatever power Seth controlled, barely or otherwise, it was enough to evade detection by the Secret Service.


    Even with the front door closed, Nic was shivering. His sweat-soaked nightshirt had robbed his body of all heat as soon as it was touched by the night air. He went to the fireplace and started a fire.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± asked Davo bleary-eyed.


    Nic looked up from where he was crouched by the fire trying to warm himself.


    ¡°There was a man in my room.¡±


    ¡°Is this a story I¡¯m going to regret hearing?¡± asked Davo.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± said Nic. ¡°Probably.¡±


    ¡°What are you two doing?¡± said Fanny. He had a blanket over his head and wrapped around his body, his head poking out like an old fishwife.


    ¡°Nic¡¯s been entertaining visitors in his room. Try not to judge.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± said Fanny. ¡°Anyone we know?¡±


    ¡°No. Nobody I know, either. He said his name was Seth. He was from Gweur, I think. He wanted me to know I had been chosen by the Lady of the Shadows as her representative in this world. I¡¯m very important to him and his people. He wants to keep me safe, for his Lady.¡±


    There was a pause. Nic looked up at them.


    ¡°This, er, lady, is she like a demon?¡± asked Fanny.


    ¡°Good question,¡± said Davo. ¡°Is she like a demon, or is she in fact a demon. Come to think of it, are you a demon?¡±


    ¡°No, I don¡¯t think so,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°Good, good,¡± said Davo. ¡°As long as you¡¯re reasonably sure.¡±


    ¡°I thought¡­ I thought Simole had attached her spirit to me, but now I¡¯m not so sure. It may have been a demon and Simole is untethered.¡±


    ¡°Should we be talking about this so openly?¡± said Davo, nodding towards the front door.


    ¡°He didn¡¯t hear the man telling me I was the demon¡¯s voice in this world,¡± said Nic. He knew there might have been good reason for that, but he needed to talk to someone, and the two of them was all he had.


    ¡°Where is Simole?¡± asked Fanny. ¡°Her spirit, I mean.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure. In the Other Place, I think. That¡¯s what her father told me.¡±


    ¡°You spoke to him?¡± asked Davo.


    ¡°Yes. He dropped by on his dragon. He wanted me to be his apprentice so I could fight demons for him. I declined.¡±


    ¡°Probably for the best,¡± said Davo.


    ¡°Maybe we should tell the Secret Service agent,¡± suggested Fanny, pulling his blanket around himself and edging his way closer to the fire. ¡°They¡¯re supposed to protect us against this sort of thing, aren¡¯t they? Demons and such.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure that¡¯s a good idea,¡± said Davo, also getting closer. He bent down to throw some more logs in.If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    ¡°Why not?¡± asked Fanny.


    ¡°I suspect the whole point of putting a guard on Nic wasn¡¯t so much to protect him as keep an eye on him. They may have suspected these people would get in touch and are just waiting for the right moment to pounce. If they learn their primary goal is to keep Nic safe and out of harm¡¯s way, then the easiest way to draw them out would be to put Nic in harm¡¯s way. The more harm the better.¡±


    ¡°You really think they¡¯d do that?¡± said Fanny.


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Davo.


    ¡°Probably,¡± said Nic. He believed the Archmage wanted to keep him safe for Simole¡¯s sake, but he wasn¡¯t really sure why the guard was watching over him. The Minister of Instruction going out of his way to protect a boy from bullies seemed an unlikely use of government resources.


    ¡°That still leaves us with the question of what to do,¡± said Davo. ¡°If they think you¡¯re their special demon boy, they¡¯re bound to contact you again. Perhaps try to force you to do things in the name of their demon lady.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think we should do anything,¡± said Nic. ¡°If it is a demon I¡¯m attached to, then it might be the only way Simole can find her way back. I have to keep the door open. I can try to find out more about it from Winnum Roke¡¯s biography, if I ever get a chance to get back in the library.¡±


    ¡°Hmm,¡± said Davo. ¡°Which you can¡¯t do with Agent White perpetually by your side.¡±


    Nic nodded. It was handy to have a personal bodyguard when it came to ensuring other students kept their distance, but it was a hindrance to his other activities.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think he¡¯ll be back tonight, at least.¡± Nic rose, his shirt dry and his eyes feeling heavy. ¡°I¡¯m going back to bed. If you hear strange sounds like a demon¡¯s trying to consume my soul¡­¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll get as far away as we can,¡± said Fanny.


    ¡°Your sacrifice won¡¯t be in vain,¡± said Davo. ¡°We¡¯ll make sure we live long lives and toast your memory.¡±


    ¡°Ooh,¡± said Fanny. ¡°I fancy some toast now.¡±


    Nic returned to his room while Fanny rummaged around in the kitchen with Davo admonishing his eating habits. They had taken the news of demons and late night visitors better than he had expected. The chance to rescue Simole, no matter how small, trumped any trepidations they had about the dangers they potentially faced. It probably helped that the potential dangers were mainly going to be faced by him.


    The thought was unsettling, but the threat seemed so unreal it was hard to take it seriously. He knew he should. He should be terrified and looking for someone else to take responsibility. But there was no one. No one he trusted.


    Nic lay down in the dark and listened for sounds that he wasn¡¯t alone. There were none. Whatever it was he had found himself in the middle of, he felt he had time. He didn¡¯t know how long, but from what the Archmage had told him, and what Seth had said, something was coming. It hadn¡¯t arrived.


    It wasn¡¯t much to cling to, but it meant he had time to find some kind of answer in Winnum Roke¡¯s work. It was the only place there might be clue to what he should do. She had been in his position. Sort of. First, though, he had to find a way to free himself of the agent who was his constant companion.


    He fell asleep and had fitful dreams. There were no monsters in the dark, but many questions that snapped at him no less menacingly. He woke in the morning feeling exhausted with little memory of the debate that had raged in his mind, just a feeling that no conclusions had been reached.


    The first lesson of the day was Explicit Biology of Organisms. His previous experience with this class had been theoretical. Examining diagrams of the internal workings of various animals. The drawings had been very detailed and intricate, leaving nothing to the imagination.


    Their new teacher, Mr Matterworth, clearly considered artwork to be a poor substitute for the real thing. He walked into the classroom with a large bag, from which he poured out a dozen dead frogs.


    ¡°We¡¯ll be doing this in pairs, so please find yourself a partner.¡±


    Nic turned to find Davo and Fanny already standing next to each other. He looked around. For an instant the idea he might be paired with Dizzy floated through his mind. It was quickly dashed as she was approached by a girl with honey coloured hair. The two looked perfect together, like they¡¯d worked in tandem many times.


    Everyone seemed to have a predesignated partner. No one looked lost or seeking a second. No one other than Nic, that is. He turned to the agent stood next to him. The agent turned and walked to the other side of the room.


    It wouldn¡¯t be a problem for him to work alone. In many ways, it would be preferable.


    Mr Matterworth walked around the room, opening the tall windows. ¡°This is all very straightforward,¡± he said as he pushed the windows as wide as they would go. ¡°The smell just takes a little getting used to.¡±


    ¡°Looks like I¡¯m with you,¡± said a voice beside Nic. He looked over. He recognised the boy, his face, the slicked back hair, the excessive jewellery, but he couldn¡¯t remember the name.


    The boy slowly rolled his eyes. ¡°Brillard Epsteem. President of the Standard Club?¡±


    ¡°Oh, yes,¡± said Nic. ¡°Of course.¡±


    ¡°Yes, of course. For someone who came second in the national exams, I would have thought remembering a name or two would be no problem.¡±


    ¡°Sorry. I tend to block out the extraneous stuff to leave space for, erm¡­¡±


    ¡°Matter of more importance? Charmed, I¡¯m sure.¡±


    ¡°Are you sure it¡¯s okay to partner with me?¡± said Nic, looking around to see if anyone was observing them.


    ¡°I don¡¯t see why not,¡± said Brillard. ¡°Makes little difference.¡±


    Each pair was handed a rather stiff looking frog and then given instructions on how to prepare them for dissection. There were already a series of stitches down the middle of the frogs indicating this wasn¡¯t the first time they had been opened up. There was also a very strong smell that settled in the back of the throat like a ball of cotton wool. Whatever was used to preserve these creatures, it was extremely pungent.


    ¡°Smells like vinegar and arsenic,¡± said Brillard, his eyes watering.


    Nic had no idea how he knew what arsenic smelled like but he didn¡¯t doubt he was right. He held out the scalpel he¡¯d been given while leaning his head back as much as possible.


    He slit the frog open, or rather, sliced through the stitches, and they inspected the insides. Mr Matterwroth talked through the various parts and how they were connected. It didn¡¯t really seem all that different to looking at a picture in a book, although the reality of looking at a liver or a heart in vivo might have some effect he wasn¡¯t aware of. It was hard to tell while tears dripped down his nose. At least the recycling of frogs meant fewer needless amphibious deaths. Perhaps there was a frog shortage.


    He looked over at his partner who was suffering just as much. He had treated Nic like any other student, two boys working together to uncover the secrets of froggy body parts.


    ¡°Can I ask you something?¡±


    ¡°Yes, what is it?¡± said Brillard, gently poking the large intestine.


    ¡°Why did you invite me to join the Standard Club? Weren¡¯t you told not to?¡±


    ¡°I was indeed,¡± said Brillard without looking away from the wormlike mass on the end of his pencil. ¡°But entry to the Standard Club is purely on merit. We are the oldest club in the school and we take our traditions seriously. I don¡¯t know why you were deemed unfit for membership by the Headmaster, but he isn¡¯t the club president. I am.¡±


    ¡°You could have gotten into trouble.¡±


    ¡°Ha. I think not. My mother would never let him hear the end of it. Breakfast, lunch and dinner.¡±


    Nic looked at him, one eye closed. ¡°You¡¯re the Headmaster¡¯s son?¡±


    Brillard shook his head. ¡°If I hadn¡¯t seen the exam results printed in the paper¡­¡±


    ¡°Now, I want you to sew the frog¡¯s body closed, ready for the next student.¡±


    Everyone groaned as needle and thread were passed around. Nic couldn¡¯t understand why they were going to such lengths to preserve twelve dead frogs. He felt like he was missing something.


    ¡°I¡¯ll do it,¡± said Brillard. ¡°Years of needlepoint. I¡¯m convinced Mother wanted a daughter, even though she denies it.¡±


    His stitches were neat and quick. It was quite impressive and the seam was barely noticeable. Mr Matterworth walked around with his bag as frogs were thrown in. Nic picked up their frog and felt something move.


    He dropped it on the table.


    ¡°What?¡± said Brillard.


    The frog flipped over, hopped to the end of the table in a single bound, and then jumped out of the window.


    The two boys watched open-mouthed.


    ¡°Hurry up then,¡± said Mr Matterworth, the mouth of the bag held wide as a frog¡¯s. ¡°Where is it?¡±


    The two boys looked at each other and then at the window.


    ¡°I, ah, felt sick and banged the table by accident,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°Yes?¡± said Mr Matterworth.


    ¡°And the frog flew out the window.¡± It was a plausible if unlikely scenario. The board the frog had been on could, in theory, have been flipped, catapulting the frog into the school yard.


    Mr Matterworth¡¯s face had taken on a maroon complexion. ¡°Well, don¡¯t stand about, go get it.¡±


    They rushed out.


    ¡°Why did you tell him that?¡± said Brillard.


    ¡°I couldn¡¯t tell him it got up and left, could I?¡±


    ¡°How did you do that?¡±


    ¡°Me? I didn¡¯t. It was probably one of the others playing a prank. Does anyone have that kind of ability?¡±


    ¡°Magic? No, I don¡¯t think so. And why would they prank¡­¡± His voice faded as they reached the other side of the window. ¡°I see. To prank you. Perhaps partnering with you isn¡¯t the same as partnering with anyone after all.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± agreed Nic. ¡°I can¡¯t see it anywhere.¡± There was some short grass under the window but no sign of a resurrected frog.


    ¡°No. I¡¯m sure it didn¡¯t feel like hanging around. We¡¯ll have to tell him a bird grabbed it.¡±


    They returned to the classroom and made their excuses. The teacher wasn¡¯t happy but accepted their story. Probably more so because one of them was related to the Headmaster. Nic looked around the emptying class and wondered which of his classmates had performed the small miracle, and what they thought to gain by it.


    The morning lessons ended and the three boys headed for the cafeteria, followed by their ever-present shadow. On the way, they heard sounds from the other side of the building, shouts of encouragement and disappointment, cheers and whoops.


    Cautiously, as they had not been invited to join whatever merriment was taking place, they crept around the corner.


    There was a group of girls, all dressed in a manner that was immediately familiar. They were standing under the side wall of one of the school buildings. It had no windows, but unlike other buildings that were classically built with perfectly maintained stonework, this wall was a mass of crags and bumps. Bricks stuck out and cracks were numerous. It was a climbing wall.


    There were girls climbing, moving fluidly and instinctively across and up. Holding on by fingertips, stretching legs to reach a cleft or nub. And in their midst was Dizzy, giving instructions and barking orders. She was dressed the same as that night at the library, as were all the girls.


    ¡°Lunch?¡± said Fanny.


    ¡°You go on,¡± said Nic. ¡°I¡¯ll catch up.¡±


    They left him there, assuming he was yearning after his lost love, but that wasn¡¯t what had caught his attention. He sat down, out of sight and took out his book and began making notes.


    Later, when they had returned to the cottage, Nic went through his wardrobe to find clothes that were vaguely athletic, or at least wouldn¡¯t get in his way. He prepared himself as best he could and then left through the window. A figure appeared beside him.


    It didn¡¯t matter, the agent¡¯s presence was of no concern. It was dark and there were no signs of any students. He made his way to the climbing wall with his notebook.


    There were various routes to the top of the building, each marked by a different colour which was hard to discern in the dim light from the lamp posts along the paths. It didn¡¯t matter, he wasn¡¯t here to test himself that thoroughly. He would do well to reach the top by any route.


    He knew he had to become stronger. He couldn¡¯t continue to rely on others. He had to start somewhere and as Mallory had said, you could only truly learn by doing.


    Climbing was something he had done as a child. He had never been as good as Dizzy, but he had been passable. He kept up with her.


    He looked up at the wall. It looked more intimidating from this angle. He had spent the whole of lunch watching how the girls moved, how they overcame seemingly impossible gaps. He¡¯d reviewed his notes many times before venturing out to see how far he was from where he needed to be. He expected the results to be poor. It didn¡¯t help that he had a perfect physical specimen watching him. The agent could probably walk up the wall with both hands tied behind his back.


    Nic began climbing. It was even more difficult than he¡¯d expected. None of the holds or crevices seemed to be within reach. He struggled on, getting nowhere.


    He dropped off many times. He knew the routes, the holds, when to switch positions, it made no difference. He didn¡¯t have the strength or flexibility. He refused to give up. He would learn by doing. By doing it a lot. Learning by rote.


    Slowly, he managed to get further up. Not quite halfway, but nearer halfway than the ground. He felt tired, his fingers ached and his breath burned. He reached for the next hold.


    His fingers were too slippery, he lost his grip and fell. He crashed to the ground, slamming his back so hard he felt his teeth move. He lay there looking up. The agent¡¯s head drifted into view. He hadn¡¯t even tried to catch him.


    ¡°I thought you were supposed to protect me from danger,¡± said Nic. ¡°I guess I was wrong.¡±


    ¡°A little fall like that won¡¯t hurt you,¡± said the agent. It was the first time he had spoken. ¡°You should keep trying. You were getting the hang of it.¡±


    Nic got to his feet. There was pain but luckily the numbing cold made it hard to tell exactly where.


    He got back on the wall. If he could get more than halfway up, he would deem it a victory. A first step to victory.


    It was easier this time. The first few holds seemed much more natural. He reached his previous position and hung there, panting. The next hold was too far. There was no way he could reach it. The girls he had observed had used an outstretched leg, pivoted their bodies and made a crippling arch in their backs. He couldn¡¯t possibly do the same. He needed another way, but his notes had nothing more.


    He waited to catch his breath. His fingertips were sweaty. He was about to lose his grip again. He clung on as hard as he could. He could climb down if he just took his time.


    His foot gave way. He grabbed the nearest nub and kicked his other foot. He jumped across the gap and caught his fingers in a crack. Energy flowed through him. It was exhilarating and freeing. He jumped with his back to the wall, his feet landing perfectly in place, his hands finding holds with ease. He rapidly ascended without even thinking and stopped just below the top. It was victory. It wasn¡¯t his victory. Something was helping him, guiding and assisting, claiming him for itself.


    He let go and fell.


    The agent rushed forward to catch him before he hit the ground. Nic didn¡¯t hit the ground. He caught the lowest holds and hung there for a moment, then let go and stepped onto solid earth like he¡¯d walked down a set of stairs.


    ¡°Stop it!¡± he said through gritted teeth. ¡°I don¡¯t want your help.¡±


    The agent stepped back, hands raised.


    Nic looked at him, thought about correcting his assumption it was he Nic had been talking to, but what good would that do? He set off back to the cottage.


    He went straight to his room and sat on the bed, his legs crossed and his back against the wall. He stayed awake as long as he could, afraid to go to sleep. Afraid he wouldn¡¯t be him when he woke.

 Chapter Twenty Five

    Nic woke with a start and groaned. He had fallen asleep in an awkward sitting position on his bed, his back against the wall and his feet under his crossed legs.


    His intention had been to stay awake all night, the only way he could think to avoid the demon¡¯s tendrils reaching into his mind. If he lost consciousness, he feared he would be vulnerable to the entity he now believed had attached itself to him.


    His sleep had been dreamless but he knew it was still there, tethered to him. He had felt it when he had climbed the wall, flooding his body with its otherworldly strength, allowing him to surpass his own meagre limits.


    It had been thrilling, at first. A sense of liberation and limitless freedom he had never experienced before. He had felt like he could do anything. But he knew it was a false ascendancy, like a euphoric drug that left the user no more than a cripple when it was spent.


    The borrowed power, intoxicating as it was, came at a price. Control. He did not wish to become a demonic creature¡¯s puppet. He did not covet its gifts so greatly that he would relinquish his sense of self. He had felt it slip away from him on the climbing wall. A momentary stepping outside of himself to become an observer. It was not how he wished to view his own life.


    He groaned again and slowly straightened one leg. The demon may have augmented his abilities with its own but it still had to use the untuned instrument of Nic¡¯s body to do it. He ached in his back and thighs. His joints were sore and his fingers felt swollen and bruised.


    Grey light fell through the window. It was very early and not even the birds had noticed dawn approaching yet. He rose stiffly, wincing, still dressed in the garments from the night before, the loose clothing bunched and twisted around his limbs.


    He straightened them out but felt uncomfortable, the unfamiliar clothes scratchy and tight. He stripped them off and wrapped a towel around his middle. The cottage was quiet save for Fanny¡¯s soft snoring. Nic went through the kitchen to the bathroom and stood under the shower for ten minutes. The water was freezing cold but he withstood it without complaint. As it began to warm, the furnaces somewhere in the school lit by porters preparing for another ordinary day, he turned off the taps and returned to his room.


    The light had brightened to a crisp white hinting at an overcast day. He dried himself and changed into his school uniform. He left the cottage by the front door and paid no attention to the agent who fell in behind him.


    There was no one in sight and nowhere to go. The cafeteria wouldn¡¯t be open for another two hours. He put a hand in his trouser pocket and held the key to the library that had been returned to his possession.


    Outside the library¡¯s back door, he turned to face the agent who he realised was different to the one from last night. He wore a green mask.


    ¡°Wait here,¡± said Nic as confidently as he could muster. ¡°I won¡¯t be in any danger inside but keep watch out here.¡±


    He had no idea if the agent would do as he was told. There was no reason for him to listen to a child¡¯s order, especially one of no standing. Nic unlocked the door and entered. The agent remained outside.


    The library was as still as a mausoleum, even the dust motes immobile in the early morning light. Nic took the rod from behind the librarian¡¯s desk and climbed to the top floor. He used the rod to prod the hole in the ceiling and a ladder slid down from the opening.


    In the mirrored room he found the two books just as he¡¯d seen them last time. The autobiography of Winnum Roke and the handwritten book of fairy tales she¡¯d written under a pseudonym.


    He sat down at the small table and opened both books, scanning the first page of each as though some great secret might be hidden there. He doubted he would find the answers he was looking for. He wasn¡¯t even sure what the correct questions were.


    The book of myths and legends seemed the more likely to hold hidden clues, he felt. It was written in her own hand, illustrated, somewhat crudely, by her art. Even from the cursory glance he had given it, he could tell it differed from the published version he was familiar with. The stories had different titles, for a start. But unless Winnum Roke herself jumped out from between the pages, he doubted they would reveal any great truths to him, or save him from the predicament he had found himself in.


    He flicked through the pages in a casual manner that he imagined the librarian would not approve of. A title caught his eye:The City at the Edge of Death.


    There was a subtitle:Wherein a man is in possession of a demon and yet is not possessed.


    It seemed to relate to his situation, if only nominally, so he read it.


    <h1 dir="ltr" style="text-align: center">***</h1>


    Archduke Koral was the youngest brother of Emperor Kargane IV, and thirteenth in line to the throne of the Kargeni Empire. This is when the Empire covered a quarter of the known world and commanded armies numbering in the millions.


    The Archduke, like any member of the royal family, had been trained in all royal pursuits, but he had little interest in anything other than his studies in magic.


    Fencing, riding, dancing with ladies at the Summer Ball were activities he excelled at, but interested him little. He spent all the time he could in his rooms, poring over books about the arcane arts.


    His elder brother did not begrudge him his interests. In truth, he was relieved his younger sibling harboured no ambition to rule in his place. There were already far too many members of the royal lineage who coveted the Kargeni throne, beside which there was a square wooden block, a shallow groove hollowed out of its top and a bucket rested in front. A man with a broad-bladed axe stood next to it, ever-available for immediate duty.


    Assassinations were commonplace and executions often preemptive. The palace was awash with cries for mercy and spouts of blood.


    Koral would have made a reasonable candidate for the crown if something were to happen to the Emperor and the twelve next in line¡ªthirteenth was not so far if the coup was well-organised and bloody¡ªbut he barely lifted his head from his books.


    By the time he had soft whiskers on his chin, the Emperor had named him Court Wizard and left him to his own devices.


    The position was nominal, no more eminent than Court Jester or Court Minstrel. Wizardry was considered a hobby of the rich and prodigal. They concocted potions that might ease the suffering of the ailing, or end it completely. Some had been known to produce vats of gases that could decimate a battlefield of men, although which side would depend on the way the wind was blowing. Little faith was placed in their dabbling with matters they understood little.


    Archduke Koral was retitled Archmage Koral and spent his days in the tallest tower of his brother¡¯s castle in the Kargeni capital. Some said he had been imprisoned there for plotting against the Emperor, but most didn¡¯t even know the Emperor had another brother, and soon forgot after being reminded.


    Koral¡¯s goals were far more lofty than the creation of empires. He wished to harness the true power of the universe. The only way to do this, he believed, was to contact denizens of another plane of existence. This Other Place was mentioned fleetingly in archaic records. The citizens of this rumoured dimension were referred to as demons and djinns. Spirits that could take any shape they wished and had power over the elements.


    Visitors had been said to pass through rents and schisms in the fabric of existence, but how they did this or where they went was hopelessly vague. Records were sparse but Koral pursued them vigorously.


    The Kargeni Empire was vast and its resources near endless. Treasures from many ancient cultures were brought back to the capital; spoils of war and prized loot. The books and scrolls in indecipherable languages were of little interest and passed to the Archmage¡¯s tower.


    The Emperor would remind his sibling that any useful information¡ªblueprints for war machines, recipes for elixirs, locations of dragon eggs¡ªwere to be made available to him, for the glory of the empire. Koral readily agreed. Such trinkets and gewgaws were certainly of no use to him.


    He continued to search and study. And as the years passed and his whiskers grew to a silvery waterfall, he came upon a scroll from far in the east that gave instruction in how to call forth a demon.


    He studied the scroll for a long time. Verified its contents from many sources. He practised the drawings it required of pentacles and helixes. Strange shapes that required a steady hand, not one shaking with excitement.


    On a night like any other, quiet and still, he read the incantation, first backwards, then forwards, and drew lines in the air with a pointed finger.


    The summoning circle drawn in white Arcanum dust on the floor glowed and filled with a dark cloud from which emerged two eyes.


    Koral¡¯s studies had prepared him for what was to follow. He negotiated with the creature, sparring with willpower and determination. The language they used was beyond words. Their thoughts intermingled and each struggled for control of the other.


    The demon was the summoned, its desires secondary to the summoner¡¯s. Still, Koral knew he could not let down his guard. The demon tested him, probed his mind for weakness, tempted him with offers under unfavourable terms. His soul for a wish, his sanity for omnipotence.


    The demon was slippery. It was conniving and cunning. But Koral was intensely aware of what he faced. He refused to yield. He did not lie. He did not mislead. He took the demon on a journey, the longest it is possible to take for it takes exactly one lifetime to reach the destination, the City on the Edge Of Death.


    Some think it is possible to visit that city, look over its walls at the never ending oblivion, and then return. But there is no turning back. You must go on and become one with the void.


    Koral offered the demon a stark choice. Damn them both to the numbness of nothingness, or become his servant.


    Demons lack many human emotions and spite is one of them. It could thwart the wizard¡¯s plans, but only by sacrificing itself. There was nothing to gain in doing so. The wizard was prepared to die, he cared little for the comforts of home, the affection of loved ones. If he could not have the demon¡¯s servitude, he had no interest in clinging to an unsatisfactory existence.


    The demon knew there was no other way. The wizard¡¯s determination was like a blinding light to its senses. It agreed to his unfavourable terms.


    ¡°My name is Irridinhart,¡± said the demon.


    ¡°Is your name Irridinhart?¡± asked Koral.


    ¡°It is.¡± Once asked to confirm its name, it had no choice but to comply. The demon could not lie.


    Together they now faced oblivion, but there is only one thing more powerful than death, and that is faith.


    ¡°I will live,¡± said Koral, and he leaped into the void. He was proved correct. What he believed wasn¡¯t true, but by believing it, it became true. Such was the power of words.


    The demon had no such power because the demon could not speak. It was only able to share thoughts with Koral and its influence was limited to his mind, a place where Koral reigned supreme.


    The demon offered the wizard any wish it was in its power to grant. Koral refused. To fulfil a task was to sever their bond. Until then, it would be perpetually bound to him, forever the summoned, weaker than the summoner.


    Koral did not need the demon to cast a spell for him, nor favours to bestow. He already had vast wealth to draw on; servants and luxuries he rarely used. He had his own spells if he wished to shape the world to his will. What he required of the demon was its presence. It was the source of energy necessary for magic to become manifest.


    Like a donkey tied to a millstone, the demon wore the yoke of a tamed beast.


    Koral had achieved his life¡¯s ambition and suddenly awoke to see the world around him anew. His brother was still emperor, but an aged and weak one, surrounded by jackals and wolves. The empire had declined, weakened by years of corruption and decadence. A new age was about to be ushered in.


    Koral emerged just in time to slam the gate shut in the faces of the would-be marauders. No one had expected a monster to rise from the forgotten tower. No one was prepared for the onslaught that followed. The enemies of the empire were crushed overnight. The supposed-allies waiting to take control were brought back to heel. A golden light appeared over the citadel, encasing it in an impenetrable shield, and armies of the dead manned its walls. A new ruler was crowned, God Emperor Koral.


    The new emperor ruled for six hundred years. His orders were followed without question, his territories expanded to reclaim land that had been lost and acquire new lands that had remained unconquered. The Kargeni Empire flourished. It thrived and was rampant. No nation dared resist. Battles were over without a single drop of blood when the armies of the dead appeared, led by men who were as fearful of the God Emperor as those they defeated.


    Long-lived as he was, though, Koral still aged. Time can be slowed and for short intervals even stopped, but it can never be reversed. As powerful and learned as he was, his faith was not strong enough to cheat death twice.


    The demon had stayed with him all this time. It had provided the energy to raise armies of the dead, create storms that levelled mountains and turn barren deserts into fertile land. It had attempted to escape its bonds many times, but had never managed to outwit the man who held it captive.


    On his deathbed, Koral, God Emperor of the Kargeni, thanked his servant for the years of service. It had kept its word, as it was bound to do. He offered it freedom.


    ¡°To free me, you must give me a task to complete,¡± said the demon.


    ¡°Then I wish for you to find happiness in this world. It is what you deserve.¡± And the Archmage died.


    Irridinhart let out a howl of rage no one heard. The wish was ungrantable. There was nothing in this world to make the demon happy. What men and women saw as incomparable majesty, it only saw as dirt and filth. The stars in the night sky that made lovers rejoice, were like scratches on a piece of slate. The towers and cities that were the pinnacles of man¡¯s achievement, were like sticks in the mud. And the people, the strong and the beautiful, decked in the finest bejewelled raiments, were like swine swimming in their own filth.


    It could deceive and beguile them, seduce and entice. Never needing to lie, always allowing them to delude themselves. It was easy. Wars barely required a nudge. And in all that time, it was never able to comprehend the bewildering gullibility of people. How baffling it was that even the most cunning and clever would frequently see only what they wanted to see. And when the scales finally fell from their eyes and they saw the horror they had conceived into the world, they would raise their fists to the skies and damn the power that had made them act to such disastrous effect. Someone was to blame, someone other than themselves.The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    There was nothing to revel in with their destruction, no joy to be had.


    The Kargeni Empire crumbled and others rose and fell. Time was nothing to the demon, an endless series of events without meaning. The demon attempted to contact other mages, but none matched the abilities of Koral. They were mere illusionists and tricksters. Those the demon was able to appear before were too frightened and cowardly to do nowt but run screaming. Even if they had remained and done the demon¡¯s bidding, they had not the power to satisfy its yearning. Its desire to go home.


    The centuries passed and eventually the demon felt the tug of a summons, weak and pitiful. It would never have reached the Other Place, but the demon was already here. The summons was not strong enough to compel its presence, but the demon was willing without coercion, its curiosity piqued.


    The summoner was a child. A precocious girl who had stumbled upon a book in her father¡¯s library. She did not fear the demon, did not understand what it was. Like the others, she did not possess the power to open the gateway between planes.


    But she was young. And she had potential. Under the demon¡¯s guidance, she could become a she-wizard as powerful as the one who had bought Irridinhart to this world. It could make her the key it needed.


    And so with care and attention, the demon raised its child. Quietly, with subtlety and a gentle hand, it guided the child to study magic, to learn and innovate. She grew to command great powers, to stand far above her peers.


    She made mistakes, struggled with the needs of her profession, but eventually she created the door the demon had so patiently waited for. And then she opened it.


    There was no need to go through it. The denizens of the Other Place were waiting. They had grown tired of their own world, knew every aspect of it and were looking for new worlds to explore. They rushed through and found their lost sibling waiting for them. It was a joyous reunion.


    And it was short-lived. The demon had found happiness in this world and had completed its given task. It was returned home.


    Returned to an empty place where none resided. It was alone again. The door was gone and there was none to summon it, and no way to call back its siblings. Its existence was desolate with no alternative in sight.


    There was nothing it could do but wait. Eventually, another door would open. Another mage would emerge, another child might stumble upon a book. It was only a matter of time.


    <h1 dir="ltr" style="text-align: center">***</h1>


    Nic finished the story and sat staring at the last line without seeing it. He felt he had read something true and yet how could it be?


    There was a story in the published version available to the public about a man who sold his soul to a demon to gain power and riches. It was a standard parable about greed and poor judgement.


    In that story, the demon was defeated because it offered three wishes and once the summoner realised his first two had been twisted to pervert his meaning, he used his third wish to set the demon an impossible task.


    ¡°Find your happiness in this world.¡±


    It was similar but the story had none of the details of the one he had just read. It was a trite bedtime story for children, with a warning to not allow greed to rule your desires. The demon was still out there, searching, and little boys and girls making selfish prayers might summon it.


    Was this a true story or a fanciful fiction by a bored Archmage with ambitions to be a novelist? Did Emperor Koral exist? Nic had never heard of him or of the Kargeni Empire. And was the girl mentioned Winnum Roke herself? There was no mention of the events in the story in her autobiography.


    Which wasn¡¯t in itself all that surprising. She clearly intended to keep some details of her life private, only to be made known to a select few. He was one of those few, although he had yet to learn why.


    He hoped it was true. He wanted it to be true. It suggested a demon bound to a human could be controlled. There was risk. The demon could also control its host. But if there was a chance he could resist becoming a puppet, he had no choice but to grasp it.


    Nic closed the book. There were many other stories within its covers and if they were all as opaque as this one, he would need a long time to unravel their meaning. He had lessons to attend and hadn¡¯t had breakfast yet.


    ¡°You¡¯re here very early.¡±


    Nic started, turning and nearly knocking the books onto the floor. He grabbed at them as they fell and immediately regretted it; his snatching them out of the air was as likely to rip pages from their binding, and no excuses would satisfy the librarian, especially as she was watching him as he did it.


    She ignored his impromptu juggling. ¡°Have you been here all night?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± He casually placed the books on the table, undamaged. ¡°Only a couple of hours. I needed to check something.¡±


    The librarian wore a long, grey coat with high collars and a large beret that covered her head and her ear on one side. She looked younger without her glasses on.


    ¡°Well, you should pull the ladder up after yourself if you¡¯re going to spend time up here. You never know who might be lurking below.¡±


    ¡°Yes. Sorry. Did you see the Secret Service agent?¡±


    ¡°I did. He did not, however, see me.¡±


    Nic was surprised and evidently it showed on his face.


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t be much of a custodian if I couldn¡¯t access my books without obstruction. They are my charges and no one will stop me from carrying out my duties.¡±


    She said it with such authority and fortitude that Nic had no choice but to accept her at her word, even though he had no idea how a librarian was able to evade a trained agent of the nation¡¯s finest. Probably just another door he wasn¡¯t aware of, but maybe not.


    ¡°If I was possessed by a demon,¡± said Nic, ¡°do you think you would be able to tell.¡±


    The librarian peeled off the beret and her hair, usually wound into a tight bun, cascaded down to her shoulders to startling effect.


    ¡°I would certainly hope so. Why? Are you?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said Nic. ¡°Not yet.¡±


    ¡°Is it likely to happen in the future?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Nic. ¡°Quite likely.¡±


    They looked at each other for a long, silent moment. Then the librarian turned around and began descending the ladder. ¡°You better come with me,¡± she said just before her head disappeared from view.


    Nic reached the cafeteria just as it opened. He was the first, and only customer. The eggs were still being cooked, the toast not yet brown. He settled for the porridge that had been simmering since dawn and a glass of orange juice.


    He made his way to the usual table, set apart in a corner. The vast, empty hall spread out in front of him while plates and pots clattered somewhere behind. The green-masked agent stood to one side, an absurdly unnecessary bodyguard.


    Nic had finished his porridge and was about to go get some toast when another figure sat down beside him.


    ¡°Morning,¡± said Brillard Epsteem.


    ¡°Morning,¡± answered Nic, a little confused. There was plenty of other seating available and a longstanding tradition for every other student to use them.


    Brillard had a tray piled high with food that would impress even Fanny. He tucked a napkin under his chin and began eating. His manners were delicate and precise, each fork taking the same amount of scrambled egg, each bite of toast dropping no visible crumbs. The napkin seemed entirely superfluous.


    ¡°Anything to report?¡± asked Brillard. He was speaking as though it was nothing unusual, another day at Ransom and some small talk over eggs.


    ¡°No. Nothing. You?¡±


    ¡°The usual. I¡¯m looking forward to Advanced Calculations this afternoon, I must say. Cromnym promised to show us the latest Dream Formula.¡± Brillard paused with his fork in mid-air and raised his eyebrows to show his eager anticipation of this event. The scrambled egg on the end of the fork was perfectly symmetrical, Nic noticed, the fork¡¯s tines piercing it in the dead centre.


    ¡°Mr Cromnym the Economic Analysis teacher?¡±


    ¡°He does teach that also, yes. But he is a fine equationist. One of the best. Pay close attention to his words, I think you won¡¯t be disappointed. Mocks will soon be upon us and then it¡¯s off to battle!¡± He stabbed the air. The egg remained firmly in place, before reversing direction and disappearing into Brillard¡¯s mouth.


    The mocks were only two weeks away but they held little interest for Nic at this point. Other matters were far more pressing.


    ¡°I¡¯m looking forward to crossing swords with you, Tutt. Academically speaking.¡±


    ¡°Hmm? Yes, that¡¯ll be nice.¡± Nic looked down at his empty bowl. He would have been eager to engage in a little healthy rivalry once. Now it seemed a meaningless distraction. He would still study and answer to the best of his ability, but his studies no longer absorbed him.


    ¡°I hope you aren¡¯t the sort to underplay your hand, to try and bamboozle the opposition. Your high level of performance in this arena is already well established. No need to be modest.¡±


    ¡°No. I¡¯ll do my best,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°Why are you sitting here?¡± said a tall boy. Nic recognised him and his companion.


    The cafeteria was beginning to fill up and it wasn¡¯t surprising Nic¡¯s dining partner would be noticed. The two boys questioning the wisdom of this seating arrangement were the two he constantly saw around Dizzy.


    ¡°I¡¯m having breakfast,¡± said Brillard, not cowed in the least. ¡°I suggest you do the same. Get some protein or you might never attain the wisdom a healthy brain is capable of. And retie your neckerchief you slovely ape. This isn¡¯t the Capital Zoo.¡±


    The two boys who had seemed so intimidating a moment ago, shrank before Nic¡¯s eyes, fumbling with the narrow scarves around their necks which seemed perfectly in order to Nic. They hurried away before receiving more admonishments.


    ¡°You were very, erm¡­ curt with them.¡±


    ¡°Indeed. I¡¯ve been dealing with Jereboam and Jasik my whole life. They¡¯re like intemperate puppies, always trying to nip at people¡¯s feet. A sharp rap on the nose is the only way to bring them to heel. Some, of course, believe a kind word and gentle encouragement is how you sooth a savage beast. I assure you that approach is of no benefit to the beast or its master. Left to their own devices, siblings of a similar disposition only exacerbate each other¡¯s failings.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re brothers?¡±


    ¡°Twins, although not identical, obviously.¡±


    ¡°Are they violent?¡±


    Brillard paused to look at Nic. He narrowed his eyes. ¡°I suspect you already know the answer to that question. They have a strong inclination to maintain the hierarchy they exist in, but as the sons of the Deputy Headmaster, they are not at the top of that hierarchy and so are obligated to bow to their betters. They have yet to ascertain that they are in fact only advancing the cause of those ahead of them without ever raising their own status.¡±


    ¡°And as the Headmaster¡¯s son, you are top of the hierarchy?¡±


    Brillard smiled. ¡°Only within these walls. In the real world I¡¯m under the same constrictions and restrictions as anyone not of noble blood. Which might lead you to think I would wish to stay on at Ransom for as long as possible, enjoying the fruits of my father¡¯s labour. My father also feels this would be my best option, become a teacher and eventually take his place as head. A dynasty of sorts, if a not very glorious one. But I do not wish to live my life in the bosom of my loving family to be forever coddled.¡±


    ¡°You want to be a mage?¡±


    ¡°Indeed. A member of the Royal College. Far more exciting than teaching the likes of Jem and Jak. You look tired, Mr Tutt. Perhaps a little more protein would be in order for you, also.¡±


    ¡°Nic. You can call me Nic.¡±


    ¡°Nic, then. Don¡¯t worry, once the mocks are over, you will be able to relax. There are no classes during Demon¡¯s Tithe.¡±


    ¡°Yes. I was thinking of going home for the week.¡±


    Demon¡¯s Tithe was an annual holiday, a night when people celebrated the end of the year and looked forward to the next. Other than young children who received gifts, it was a time to rest and spend with family.


    ¡°Really? And miss out on the trip to Ranvak National Park?¡±


    Nic shrugged. ¡°I didn¡¯t know that was a thing. Is it camping?¡±


    ¡°For some. There are cabins for those who prefer their wilderness a little more civilised. Climbing Demon¡¯s Heart is very popular. You¡¯ve probably seen the various clubs practising. It¡¯s quite competitive. And then there are various other activities. It depends on which clubs you belong to.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t belong to any clubs,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°No, I don¡¯t suppose you do.¡±


    Speaking to Brillard about the school was like referring to an encyclopaedia, but rather than having to check the index, you merely had to call out a subject and the correct page would open in front of you. His knowledge of the school, its clubs and societies, was complete. He would make a very able Headmaster, one day, should he fail to get into the Royal College.


    Davo and Fanny arrived a few minutes later and sat down cautiously, suspicious looks on their faces. They did not ask for an explanation, merely exchanged nods.


    ¡°Does the name Irridinhart mean anything to you?¡± asked Nic. The mention of Demon¡¯s Heart, the mountain in the middle of the park, had reminded Nic of the demon in the story.


    ¡°No. There¡¯s the River Din.¡±


    ¡°The one in the park?¡±


    ¡°Yes. I believe it was originally called the Irridin River. But that was a long time ago. It loops around Demon¡¯s Heart. The Canoe Club use it for their races.¡±


    The original name of the River Din struck a distant memory. Nic was sure he had seen mention of it somewhere also. The Irridin. Demon¡¯s Heart. Irridinhart. It seemed like an intentional sign from Winnum Roke, left in a book a thousand years old with no creases and no torn pages, waiting to be read.


    ¡°Do they climb to the top of the mountain?¡± asked Nic.


    ¡°The clubs? No. They aren¡¯t allowed. It¡¯s Demon¡¯s Tithe, the Royal College holds theirsecret ritualsup there.¡± He spoke with a salacious sneer, suggestive of impropriety.


    ¡°It¡¯s just tradition,¡± said Fanny. ¡°They watch the rising sun and say some stuff. It¡¯s supposed to be when demons are weakest and unable to resist binding. Or something.¡±


    Brillard and Davo raised eyebrows in unison, synchronised to the millimetre.


    ¡°Ah, that¡¯s supposed to be a secret, sort of,¡± said Fanny. ¡°Don¡¯t tell anyone.¡±


    Everyone at the table turned to look at the Secret Service agent. He was standing immobile, staring across the hall, giving no indication he had overheard.


    Fanny pulled a guilty face and kept eating.


    It was difficult for Nic to concentrate during classes. He did his best. Ad Calc was not as exciting as Brillard had suggested. Mr Cromnym did show them the latest equations pertaining to the study of dream states, but it was highly theoretical and hard to understand without a degree in Theoretical Imagineering.


    Nic¡¯s thoughts were taken up with the idea of climbing Demon¡¯s Heart. It being forbidden was the least of his problems. He wasn¡¯t strong enough, nor experienced in mountain climbing. His body still ached from his minor exertions and climbing a mountain without anyone knowing was going to be no easy task.


    The demon itself could assist him, but that would rather undermine the purpose of the climb. Perhaps it didn¡¯t matter. Use the opponent¡¯s strength to find the opponent¡¯s weakness. It sounded like a sage aphorism, only if it were truly good advice, he was sure he would have read it somewhere, and he hadn¡¯t.


    He could ask Dizzy to help train him, but he immediately dismissed the idea. Not only would she be reluctant to aid him, especially after categorically telling him to keep his distance, he had no intention of exposing her to any further danger. He would face his demon alone.


    He sat on his bed with the lights off and a piece of paper in his hand. It was too dark to read it, but he had already memorised the instructions. He just felt better holding it.


    The librarian had shown him a book about strengthening mind and will. Dugarry¡¯sFocus on Emptiness. It involved simple meditations, but the librarian swore by their effectiveness. She wouldn¡¯t allow him to take the books from the library, of course, but he had made notes.


    The idea was to empty one¡¯s mind of all thoughts and allow the silence to fill the void. It was an oddly difficult thing to do. Distracting thoughts were ever-present and also incoming. Several times, just as he closed in on a moment of stillness, he thought he saw something in the corner of his eye, but it was a trick of light and shadow. The exercises were deceptively simple but hard to maintain.


    Still, it was better than sleeping. His only concern was that if he did manage to empty his mind, his unwanted guest might take the opportunity to move in fully.


    He knew from the story, which he had chosen to take as more fact than fiction, that a strong mind was able to resist and also overwhelm a demon. He would train himself in anticipation of a future encounter. He didn¡¯t know if he¡¯d be strong enough, but he would at least be stronger than he was now.


    In the dark room, he repeated the mantras and affirmations the book told him he needed to say and slowly his mind quieted. It was soothing and he felt sure he would fall asleep. He hoped there would not be any more strange dreams. He hoped, if there were, he wouldn¡¯t remember them when he woke. He realised by thinking about these things, he was letting his focus slip and he returned his attention to his breathing and his mind was silent again, but not the same kind of silence. This silence was not empty.


    ¡°Why do you sit in the dark, child?¡±


    The voice was in his head. It wasn¡¯t audible, yet it sounded familiar.


    He shook, his heart raced. ¡°I am training myself to be stronger,¡± he said as calmly as he could manage. He said it out loud but softly.


    ¡°I could make you stronger. I could lift your arms for you when you are tired. Raise your head when it droops. Would you like my help?¡±


    Nic felt a wave of panic. He fought it down before speaking. ¡°I do not. Thank you.¡± A little politeness might not be a bad thing, he thought.


    There was a shiver in his head. A laugh, he realised.


    ¡°What if I were to insist? A debt by force is still a debt.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think you can do that,¡± said Nic, finding confidence in his rebuttal. ¡°Your words carry no power because you have no voice.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps I will borrow yours?¡± The demon sounded irritated, if that was possible.


    ¡°It is mine to give, not yours to take.¡± He didn¡¯t know if being combative was the correct line, but his instinct, born of a lifetime of facing questions, was to attack the demon¡¯s claims. He noticed the arguments were all suggestions and not threats. Not ¡®I will¡¯ or ¡®I can¡¯, but ¡®perhaps¡¯ and ¡®what if?¡¯


    ¡°But I can offer you things that you want.¡± The mental voice was somehow sweeter now. ¡°There is much that you want, is there not?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Tell me, is your name Irridinhart?¡±


    There was a pause. He didn¡¯t think this was the same demon from the story, didn¡¯t know if the name was a real one or one fabricated to lead him to the mountain. But he had a witness willing to answer questions and this was a reasonable one, he felt.


    The silence continued. ¡°Hello?¡± he said to the dark room, feeling a little foolish.


    The emptiness in his mind was whole again. The demon was gone. As unlikely as it seemed, it had run away.


    He felt his skin prickle with perspiration. He had been so immersed in the moment he had forgotten to be scared, too wrapped up in passing the test. Now, his body suddenly realised the precarious situation he¡¯d been in and sweat poured from his brow. He let out a long breath.


    He had been focused on the demon¡¯s questions. It was like sitting an exam he had been studying for without knowing it. All the information he had collected and assimilated without understanding had been there for him. He had just needed someone to ask him the right questions.


    The demon was more than his foe, it was the catalyst that allowed him to filter out the unnecessary and draw out the essential details required to understand the Other Place. He no longer wished to push the demon away in hope it wouldn¡¯t invade his mind, he wanted it to return so it could help him catalogue his own library of thoughts and knowledge accrued.


    Nic sat in the dark and smiled, and his smile turned into a soft laugh. He had feared he would be stuck behind the walls of his mind with a demon, but it was also true that the demon was stuck in here with him. Close enough to be studied. And Nic was a good student.

 Chapter Twenty Six

    Finally, the mock exams were upon them and Nic had no choice but to focus on his studies. Despite the myriad personal problems occupying his mind, the reality of having to sit in a large hall for two hours with blank paper to fill pushed all other thoughts aside.


    He had been drifting through most lessons until that point. His years of self-discipline had deserted him, but they had instilled a methodology in him that operated even when he took his hands off the reins.


    He still took notes, identified what was useful and raised his hand to ask questions on matters that weren¡¯t clear, even though he barely paid attention to what was being said. He had developed an instinct for when a teacher failed to explain clearly or got sidetracked.


    It was instantly obvious to Nic that Mr Matterworth would forget to return to the importance of gall bladders in dragonbreath variations when he was asked about the effect of plugged bile ducts and internal explosions.


    Or that Mrs Finleaves had misquoted an advanced equation by the way her chalk slowed as she wrote it on the blackboard.


    He could even tell Mr Cromnym had skipped a page without realising from the change in intonation in his voice as he read out an introductory passage when he should have been reading a concluding one.


    His hand would go up to request clarification, even though his own mental process was consumed by thoughts of demons and mages.


    He had been trying fruitlessly to contact the demon he had somehow become attached to. Each evening, he sat on his bed and cleared his mind, leaving himself as open as possible to the presence that he could only just sense at the far reaches of his perception.


    But there was no repeat of the connection he had made that one time. No weird dreams invading his sleep. He had scared the entity off, it seemed.


    He had even started meditating in the mornings, before getting dressed. Slow, deep breaths, allowing his thoughts to come and go until he settled into a comfortable blankness. No voice broke the silence.


    On the other hand, his mental fortitude appeared to have improved noticeably. He was calmer, less anxious about the future, and his awareness in class was almost supernatural. He didn¡¯t believe that was the case. His observations were too mundane to be attributed to a being of magic.


    It was reassuring to know all his years of dedication had been more than a simple cataloguing of information. He was more aware of what things meant, not just on the surface but in how they were presented. The difference, although often subtle, was everywhere around him.


    And most of all in Winnum Roke¡¯s book of fairy tales. He read her handwritten original in the secret room at the top of the library. Were they true? Were they metaphorical? Did he not recognise the names and places because they had been changed or because they never existed?


    He was sure there was important information between those pages, but couldn¡¯t tell how he was supposed to access it. By understanding a hidden code? By solving a riddle? He would have liked to ask the demon about it, but he had not been able to continue the one conversation they¡¯d had.


    And now the mocks were here. Two weeks of relentless testing and probing. Far too intense for the other students to waste time being concerned about him and the other Also-Rans.


    Even the Secret Agent assigned to watch over him had been recalled to more worthwhile duties. Everyone had better things to do.


    He no longer considered it very likely he and the other Also-Rans would be ousted from their scholarships¡ªthere were far too many eyes watching for even a legitimate attempt to have much chance of success¡ªbut he also didn¡¯t see much point in trying to prove himself superior to his fellow students. Who would it impress? What would it achieve, other than raising hackles already quite pronounced?


    He sat his exams, revised in the library, cleared his mind for any signs of squatting visitors, and did his best to be ready for the next contact. He was sure it would come, eventually.


    He didn¡¯t doubt it would be better prepared to deal with him next time. He didn¡¯t want to fall victim to arrogance. This period of silence may well have been the demon doing its own research, making its own preparations. There was no way of knowing what it was doing in the dark recesses of his consciousness. Exploring Nic¡¯s level of acuity? Testing his level of determination?


    To assume your opponent is unchanged when you are striving to catch up is a foolish assumption to make. He had felt a definite surge of confidence when he realised the battle for dominance was his to lose, not a fate out of his control. And he had the home advantage. But his opponent was just as aware as he.


    ¡°How did it go?¡± asked Davo after the final exam; three hours of Economic Analysis so intense you were allowed to bring any textbooks you wanted into the examination hall with you.


    ¡°Good,¡± said Nic. ¡°What I expected. You?¡±


    ¡°Same,¡± said Davo, readjusting the four, thick tomes in his arms. ¡°Didn¡¯t take any books in with you?¡±


    Nic¡¯s hands were empty. ¡°No. I didn¡¯t think I¡¯d need them.¡±


    Davo released a heavy breath through his long nose. ¡°No, of course not. Have you seen our resident mage technician?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said Nic. ¡°Where¡¯d he go?¡±


    Davo shrugged. ¡°He was still going over his notes when I left the cottage. I assume he made it here before¡ªwait, there he is.¡±


    Fanny appeared from the quickly emptying hall, looking slightly dazed, also with his hands free.


    ¡°Don¡¯t tell me you didn¡¯t take any books in, either,¡± said Davo.


    ¡°Hmm?¡± said Fanny, turning around like there might be someone behind him whom Davo was addressing. A stack of books bound by string hung down his back.


    ¡°Thank heavens for that,¡± said Davo. ¡°For a moment I thought I¡¯d stepped into an alternate dimension.¡±


    They returned to the cottage and stood in the kitchen, not really knowing what to do with themselves. The school term was about to end and students would soon be going home. The idea felt oddly unsettling to Nic.


    ¡°When are you, ah¡­ leaving, then?¡± asked Fanny.


    ¡°After Demon¡¯s Tithe, I suppose,¡± said Davo. ¡°Although, there really isn¡¯t much to stay for. We could just leave now. I doubt anyone would stop us. Or notice.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m thinking of going to Ranvak National Park,¡± said Nic. ¡°With the school.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± said Davo. ¡°Have you been invited?¡±


    ¡°No. I didn¡¯t think you needed to be. Isn¡¯t it open to all students?"


    ¡°All students who are members of a school club,¡± said Fanny. ¡°What club did you want to join?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± said Nic. ¡°Something to do with climbing, I suppose.¡±


    ¡°You want to climb the mountain?¡± asked Davo. ¡°Didn¡¯t Brillard say that wasn¡¯t allowed?¡±


    ¡°He did,¡± said Fanny. ¡°I remember.¡±


    ¡°Because of mage rituals?¡± asked Nic.


    Fanny blushed. ¡°That was a slip of the tongue. And only stuff I overheard, probably not even true.¡±


    ¡°I think it¡¯s very likely there¡¯s something important up there,¡± said Nic. ¡°Something that will help Simole.¡±


    ¡°Even if it was allowed,¡± said Davo, ¡°how are you going to climb a mountain?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve been reading up on it,¡± said Nic. ¡°Doesn¡¯t seem that hard.¡±


    Davo scoffed derisively. ¡°You can¡¯t just read about it and expect it to be as simple as steps one, two and three. You could fall off and die. Mountains are known for that sort of thing.¡±


    ¡°But if it¡¯s to help Simole... ¡± said Fanny. ¡°I mean, we could at least go have a look.¡±


    ¡°Have you seen those girls practising?¡± said Davo. ¡°Have you seen them? If you want to look at something, go look at them. Although, I suspect you already have.¡± He raised an eyebrow that seemed to raise a whole host of questions.


    Fanny blushed again. ¡°Obviously we won¡¯t go up that way. If mages can get up there, I¡¯m sure there¡¯s a less, you know, strenuous route.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Davo. ¡°One employing magic.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think so,¡± said Fanny. ¡°It¡¯s a null space on the top.¡±


    Davo and Nic looked blankly at Fanny.


    ¡°A what?¡± asked Davo eventually.The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°An area with no magic. You can¡¯t do spells. Actually, don¡¯t tell anyone I told you that, either.¡±


    ¡°I definitely think I need to go up there,¡± said Nic, ¡°but you two don¡¯t. It might not even be necessary for me, but I just have this feeling.¡±


    ¡°Oh, well, if it¡¯s a feeling.¡± Davo shook his head. ¡°Try to be objective. You don¡¯t belong to a club, you don¡¯t know how to climb a mountain and you aren¡¯t allowed up there in the first place. Is it really so important you have to risk life and limb just to check what¡¯s up there? Hasn¡¯t someone written a book who¡¯s already been? Just read that.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± said Nic. ¡°This isn¡¯t something to do on a whim. I need to deal with it like I would deal with any problem. Do you want to go to dinner?¡±


    The sudden change of subject caught Davo off guard and he stammered into agreeing to head to the cafeteria for the evening meal. Fanny was only too happy to make it unanimous.


    They sat at their usual table with the same meals they always ate. The school term had lasted ten weeks and taught them many things, but the most consistently valuable lesson was which meals the cafeteria staff did well, and which they didn¡¯t.


    Davo and Fanny talked about various exams and how they thought they did, gently enquiring about each other¡¯s responses to certain questions. Nic spent most of the meal looking about the room.


    When they had finished, Davo and Fanny rose, but Nic remained in his seat.


    ¡°Not finished digesting?¡± asked Davo.


    ¡°I¡¯m waiting for someone.¡±


    The other two sat down again, curious to know who it was Nic had his sights on.


    The person in question appeared for the second sitting. Nic rose from his chair and went over to where Brillard was just about to sit down at a long table that had been vacated by its previous occupants and was nearly empty.


    Nic sat down opposite him, drawing some surprised looks, but not very many.


    ¡°Do you mind if I join you for a minute?¡± asked Nic.


    ¡°Not at all,¡± said Brillard. ¡°As long as you don¡¯t mind if I carry on. It¡¯s been an exhausting day and I really need to refill the energy stores. I assume everything went well?¡±


    Davo and Fanny sat down either side of Nic, attracting more sideways glances, but even without the Secret Service agent to act as a deterrent, nothing more than curious looks came their way.


    ¡°Yes, thanks,¡± said Nic. ¡°I wanted to ask you about the trip to the National Park.¡±


    ¡°Of course, although your assigned house teach¡ªwait, that¡¯s right, you don¡¯t have one.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said Nic. ¡°We do have a second year who helps us with this sort of things, but we haven¡¯t seen much of him lately. He may already have gone home.¡±


    ¡°Well, I¡¯m happy to help, if I can,¡± said Brillard. He was busy rearranging the food on his plate into a more symmetrical distribution.


    ¡°I was wondering if there was a way for me to join the trip, even though it¡¯s a bit late.¡±


    ¡°I should think so. Which club did you have in mind? I happen to be on the committee for the Angler¡¯s Association. We¡¯re always looking for new members. Do you fish?¡±


    ¡°Um. Not really, but it sounds interesting. Is there a lot of free time to do your own thing?¡± Nic asked tentatively. He didn¡¯t have any interest in sitting on the bank of the River Din with a fishing rod in his hand, but if it got him to the Demon¡¯s Heart it wouldn¡¯t really matter.


    ¡°Free time? Oh dear, no. It¡¯s a very full itinerary. Hectic would be a more accurate term. I suppose you think it¡¯s lazing about while a hook meanders about in the water. It¡¯s a far more challenging sport than people imagine.¡±


    That didn¡¯t sound like what he was looking for at all. ¡°Maybe that isn¡¯t for me, then. Is there a climbing club of some sort?¡±


    ¡°For boys? There was, but it¡¯s been disbanded for some time. There was an unfortunate accident.¡±


    Davo made a stifled sound indicating his displeasure at this news.


    ¡°Somebody got hurt?¡± asked Fanny.


    ¡°Somebody died. Not really anyone¡¯s fault. You know how it is with competitive boys, always pushing each other to be more daring. I don¡¯t think it would have led to anything on any other day, but there was a conflation of unusual circumstances on this particular occasion, and¡­¡± Brillard shrugged and began eating now that his plate resembled a carefully constructed display of complementing colours. It was oddly satisfying to look at.


    ¡°What if we wanted to form our own club?¡± asked Davo.


    ¡°That would be fine. What did you have in mind?¡±


    ¡°Hiking?¡± said Nic. Anything that let them go off and do their own thing would be fine. The less equipment required, the better.


    ¡°We already have one of those,¡± said Brillard. ¡°Only the fittest and most athletic students apply. Power hiking can be extremely strenuous.¡±


    Davo pulled a face. ¡°That sounds contrary to all common sense. No, that won¡¯t do. How about a Nature Appreciation Society?¡±


    Brillard stopped eating, which he was doing in a methodical spiral pattern, and looked at Davo. ¡°What do you mean? Appreciate how?¡±


    ¡°Aesthetically,¡± said Davo. ¡°Debate and discussion to follow.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I see,¡± said Brillard, which took Nic by surprise. He had no idea how you debated the attractiveness of a rose or a butterfly. ¡°You¡¯ll need a president, a treasurer and a secretary.¡±


    ¡°Done,¡± said Davo. ¡°I¡¯ll be president, Nic, you like taking notes, you can be secretary. Fanny you have pockets, you can hold onto the money.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not quite that simple,¡± said Brillard. ¡°You have to register your club with the Student Registrar.¡±


    ¡°Where do we find him?¡± asked Nic.


    Brillard wiped a hand on his napkin and held it out. ¡°Chief Student Registrar. How do you do?¡±


    Brillard assured them he would be able to rush their application through, having what he called ¡®connections¡¯ within the faculty. Namely, his father being the Headmaster. Nic thought it highly likely the Headmaster would approve in any case, since he had been warned not to hold the Also-Rans back anymore.


    There was still a lot to consider and only a couple of days to make any necessary arrangements. Nic had more or less confirmed passage to the park, but he still had to get to the top of the mountain.


    He went to the library and requested books about the park, the mountain and anything to do with basic mountain climbing. There were no books on basic mountain climbing, the librarian informed him, just as there were no books on basic heart surgery.


    ¡°Are you looking to broaden your horizons?¡± she asked him. ¡°I thought demons were taking up most of your time these days.¡± She said it without inflection, no sense of mockery. It was hard to know how she meant it.


    ¡°It¡¯s¡­ related,¡± said Nic.


    The librarian nodded without looking up from whatever she was doing on the desktop which seemed to be requiring most of her attention. ¡°And how are your mental strengthening exercises coming along?¡±


    ¡°You know, if I told most people I was worried about being possessed by a demon, they wouldn¡¯t have offered me books about focusing my willpower.¡±


    ¡°Most people don¡¯t work in libraries,¡± she said, ¡°so they don¡¯t know which books are available.¡±


    ¡°Have you ever climbed a mountain?¡± he asked her.


    ¡°The roof of this building is as far off the ground as I have been. An achievement I do not intend to surpass.¡± She finished what she was doing and led him to the section on Heritage and National Monuments.


    When Nic returned to the cottage, he had almost an entire exercise book filled with notes and drawings which he gave to Davo.


    ¡°The tests are over, you know?¡± he said as he flicked through the pages.


    Nic wasn¡¯t sure they were. ¡°It¡¯s not as bad as we thought. Look, there¡¯s two sides to the Demon¡¯s Heart. This side is like a cliff, near vertical. I think this is where they do most of the climbing. There¡¯s a ledge about halfway up and all sorts of records for getting up there the quickest. But on the other side.¡± He took the book and flipped a few pages forward to another sketch. ¡°Here. The other side is more like a steep hill. Lots of paths and marked trails that lead through wooded areas. People go up there all the time, for the view.¡±


    ¡°But not to the top,¡± said Davo.


    ¡°No. Apparently it isn¡¯t safe. That¡¯s the official line.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t doubt it,¡± said Davo.


    ¡°It also says they stopped doing the magic rituals a long time ago. Now it¡¯s just a thing people say but doesn¡¯t actually happen.¡±


    ¡°I guess that¡¯s possible,¡± said Fanny.


    ¡°So, that¡¯s the plan is it?¡± said Davo. ¡°We walk up the hill and then we walk back down again, and hope a giant boulder doesn¡¯t fall on our heads.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Nic.


    There was a little more discussion but the lack of any real objections made Nic feel confident they were both willing to go with him. He would have gone without them, but knowing they would be with him gave him a great sense of relief.


    He went to his room and prepared for bed. As always, he turned out the lights and sat in the dark with only the sound of his breath for company. There was the occasional creak or thump, perhaps a night bird outside somewhere, but they slowly receded and only his breathing filled his mind.


    He felt the cold bite of a winter wind, the movement of his hair being blown about. His eyes were closed, but a view gradually appeared before him. He was high up on a mountainside.


    He heard murmurs swirling around him, incomprehensible. It could have been the wind. It could have been the ghosts of the long dead. Nic didn¡¯t feel afraid. Perhaps that was stupid, but he was seeing further than he¡¯d ever seen and it was thrilling.


    ¡°Why do you do this, child?¡±


    Nic fought down the surge of excitement. It didn¡¯t sound like someone talking, it was more like his own thoughts imitating what it would be like to hear the demon again. But he knew that wasn¡¯t the case.


    ¡°I¡¯m waiting for you,¡± said Nic. ¡°I think you know why.¡±


    ¡°Do I? I cannot give you the power of a storybook demon. I am not a creature of fantasy.¡±


    Had the demon been watching him this whole time? It wouldn¡¯t be surprising.


    ¡°Why did you bind yourself to me?¡± he asked.


    ¡°You wish it was her? The noose the wizard tied so tightly around your neck, you wish she held the other end. The one who took my place, so I took hers.¡±


    There was a chill that passed through him.


    ¡°Do you know what it takes to create a body, cell by cell? To form a mouth? To shape the words? It is painful beyond your imagining. To squeeze a glorious life into such a small vessel made of dirt and filth. To live with those who dig things out of the mud and tear down that which dwarfs them. Confined. Restrained. It is not a burden to be coveted, to become something you are not. And then to lose it all in an instant. The return of freedom you had all but forgotten. So vast and empty it is difficult to remember why you missed it so. I didn¡¯t wish to be alone. I wanted to see her again.¡±


    ¡°Is the All-Mother coming?¡± he asked.


    The murmuring lifted into a momentary chorus before drifting away again. ¡°I do not know. I have done my part. I wait.¡±


    He moved his feet just to see if he could. He looked away from the fields and forest below him and forced himself to look up, towards the summit.


    ¡°Do you know what¡¯s at the top of Demon¡¯s Heart?¡± he asked as plainly as he could.


    ¡°Yes,¡± said the demon. ¡°The darkness of this world comes in various shades but is darkest on that vile point. Do not go there.¡±


    ¡°I think I need to.¡±


    ¡°And so you will.¡± There was a long silence, but Nic could tell the presence was still there. ¡°Take care, little one. There are things in this world you will only regret once, but not always too late. Remember this when the time comes.¡±


    He sensed his audience was nearly over. A sadness filled him. A sadness that was not his own.


    ¡°Is there a City on the Edge of Death?¡± he blurted out, not even sure why he asked.


    The murmurs swirled around him, rising to a deafening roar before fading away.


    ¡°How quickly you learn about things you can never understand. How can it be a city if no one has ever lived there?¡±


    And then it was gone again.


    Nic opened his eyes to the darkened room and dropped his head onto the cool pillow, his mind racing with all the things he should have asked but didn¡¯t. His overriding thought was that even if he wasn¡¯t sure what he would find on Demon¡¯s Heart, the demon¡¯s warning indicated he was on the right path.


    A little prickle of worry coursed through him. What if he was being tricked? The demon could let him think it was displeased to ensure he would think Demon¡¯s Heart was the answer. His conviction could have been implanted in him, the task the demon had been busy with all this time.


    He knew what it was like to feel driven by motivations carefully fed to him, believing them to be his own. There would be no telltale sign of alien influence. He would never know, not until it was too late.


    But second-guessing himself was a poor approach. If he was wrong, he was wrong. But if he was right, then he could still fail if he didn¡¯t follow through with conviction. He was committed to climbing the mountain and facing what he found there.

 TGS on a break

    No chapter this week. Taking a couple of weeks off to let my brain cool down. Will be back on Sunday 10th September. If you can''t wait until then, you can always read the latest chapters on Gravity Tales. Today''s chapter (which should have been out last week) will be gong up soon.The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.


    Have a bunch of stuff I need to do and my heads really not coping at the moment. Hopefully a little break will help sort things out. Really is time I hired that monkey butler I''ve been promising myself.


    Bitter and HTADDB are also on break and will return 4th September.


    Cheers,


    mood

 Chapter Twenty Seven

    There was an air of unbridled enthusiasm across the school. The exams were over and Demon¡¯s Tithe was almost here. Younger children would get to dress up and receive gifts. Older ones would be celebrating in no less exuberant fashion. Those who were travelling to Ranvar National Park would miss out on the bonfires and festivities, but they would be enjoying the end of the year in their own way.


    There were only two days before the trip, which wasn¡¯t enough time for Nic to prepare as well as he¡¯d like.


    Davo had taken it on himself to deal with the paperwork for the club, which had been named the Ransom School Nature Appreciation Society. Davo had chosen the name for its dull and uninspiring qualities. The last thing they wanted was for some other student to see it listed somewhere and apply to join.


    Winter had arrived with cold, blustery winds and ominous grey skies. There wouldn¡¯t be snow until the new year, but there was always the chance of a sudden downpour. Davo also took it on himself to arrange for the appropriate clothing.


    ¡°You¡¯d think they¡¯d arrange this sort of thing when it was a bit warmer,¡± said Fanny as they walked across the campus, the wind whipping at them from behind, urging them to hurry up.


    ¡°It¡¯s not supposed to be some sort of jolly holiday,¡± said Davo. ¡°It¡¯s a testament to how hardy and ready for action our country¡¯s next generation are. Ready to take the tiller when called upon. They may have been brought up in the lap of luxury with everything they¡¯ve ever wanted handed to them by a butler or a maid, but that doesn¡¯t mean they¡¯re soft.¡±


    Nic wasn¡¯t sure if Davo was mocking them or genuinely expressing his admiration.


    ¡°They do look like they know how to climb,¡± said Fanny. He was looking across the quad to where the girls from the climbing club were hanging from the wall. Sounds of their excited voices carried on the wind and jagged off in all directions.


    They stopped and watched, marvelling at the jaw-dropping athleticism. She was there, of course, in the middle of it all, conducting them like an orchestra.


    Every time Nic had passed by, they had been practising, as committed to this challenge as much as they were to their studies. Nic was relieved he had found an easier route to the top of the mountain. Even if they had more time, he doubted he¡¯d be able to reach the necessary level of skill required to climb a near-vertical surface.


    ¡°Who are they?¡± asked Fanny. He was referring to a group of boys who had arrived, dressed in similar fashion to the girls. There was some discussion and then the girls on the climbing wall were called down.


    The boys replaced them and began climbing in equally impressive fashion. The two tallest impressing the most.


    ¡°I thought Brillard said the boys¡¯ climbing club had disbanded,¡± said Fanny.


    ¡°He did,¡± said Davo.


    ¡°Looks like they¡¯ve reformed,¡± said Fanny.


    The girls stood to one side, watching. It was hard to tell if they were put out by the interruption to their training, or happy to have the boys join them. Their body language gave little away, their focus, like Nic¡¯s, on assessing how good the boys were. Very, by the looks of things.


    ¡°Well, this is all very fascinating, but don¡¯t we have arrangements to make?¡± Davo turned away from the climbers and blocked the view. ¡°Hmm?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Nic. ¡°We should get going.¡±


    It was eerily quiet in the library. It was always a place of little noise, but now it felt not just silent but also empty. Other than the librarian behind her desk, there seemed to be no one here.


    The boys took the stairs up to the private study room that had been allocated to them. It was at least warm in the library, even though there was no fire and no obvious source of heat. The book-lined walls offered insulation from the cold.


    Nic had several atlases open on the table and was calculating how long it would take them to get to the top of Demon¡¯s Heart. The issue wasn¡¯t just getting to the top, they also had to go around to the far side which was more conducive to being climbed without crawling like a spider.


    Their biggest advantage in achieving their goal was that they didn¡¯t have a teacher to watch over them, and they probably wouldn¡¯t be missed.


    ¡°What about the Secret Service?¡± asked Davo. ¡°They¡¯ll be there to watch over their more important charges.¡±


    ¡°I haven¡¯t seen any agents around the cottage,¡± said Nic. ¡°I think they¡¯ve decided we aren¡¯t in any immediate danger.¡±


    ¡°Just because you can¡¯t see them, doesn¡¯t mean they aren¡¯t there,¡± said Davo.


    ¡°We¡¯re just going to be walking around looking at things, aren¡¯t we?¡± asked Fanny. ¡°They shouldn¡¯t care too much.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll be wandering off the reservation with their special boy. I imagine they¡¯ll still want to keep an eye on him.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think they¡¯ll care as long as we¡¯re in the park,¡± said Nic. ¡°If they do stop us, we¡¯ll just say we got lost.¡±


    Davo took a long breath, thinking it over and not looking too pleased with his thoughts. ¡°I think we need to be ready with an excuse that sounds plausible. If anyone wants to know why we¡¯re on the wrong side of the mountain, we should play dumb, like we¡¯re just some kids who have no idea what they¡¯re doing. Fanny, you should do the talking.¡±


    ¡°Are you saying that because I¡¯d be the most convincing?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Davo. ¡°You have a gift.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t mind,¡± said Fanny, ¡°but I think we need something a bit more convincing than telling them we got lost. We¡¯re aiming for the peak, aren¡¯t we? I know it isn¡¯t that high up, but it¡¯s still supposed to be out of bounds.¡±


    ¡°We were curious,¡± said Nic. ¡°We wanted to know what the mages did up there. It¡¯s why normal boys would be up there. On a dare, or something.¡±


    ¡°Didn¡¯t Brillard say that¡¯s what caused the last group of climbers to meet with an ugly fate?¡± said Davo.


    Nic considered the implications. ¡°They¡¯ll tell us to go back, but they won¡¯t think we¡¯ve got ulterior motives. Boys will be boys.¡±


    ¡°What exactly are our motives?¡± asked Davo. ¡°I know the hope is there¡¯s a book of instructions hidden under a rock, or something, but failing that, what do you expect to find, Nic?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± said Nic. ¡°I really have no idea. I just know that¡¯s where I¡¯m supposed to go. Well, I don¡¯t know for sure, I¡­¡±


    ¡°You have a feeling,¡± Davo finished for him.


    ¡°What if there¡¯s a portal?¡± said Fanny. ¡°Demon¡¯s Tithe, the stars align, a doorway opens. Are we going through?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said Davo and Nic together.


    ¡°Are you unhinged?¡± said Davo. ¡°We want to avoid travelling to other dimensions, particularly ones full of demons.¡±


    ¡°But how else are we going to get Simole back? We have to open a portal somehow.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think there¡¯ll be a portal,¡± said Nic. ¡°If it was just a matter of waiting for Demon¡¯s Tithe and climbing to the top of Demon¡¯s Heart, Tenner wouldn¡¯t have spent his whole life trying to open a door. And the demon wouldn¡¯t have needed Simole. Anyway, I thought you said there wasn¡¯t any magic possible on top of the mountain.¡±


    ¡°I said it was a null space. I didn¡¯t say I knew what that means.¡±


    ¡°What I¡¯m hoping,¡± said Nic, averting his eyes so he didn¡¯t have to look at them, ¡°is that this null space will make it easier for me to deal with the demon.¡± He glanced up to see if they were looking at him like he was an insane person. He looked back down before he could tell.


    ¡°Are you saying you want to try and take control of the demon?¡± asked Davo.


    ¡°No. Not exactly. I mean, maybe.¡±


    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t it be better to try and kick it out?¡± asked Fanny. ¡°If it¡¯s possible.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure if that¡¯s a good idea,¡± said Nic. ¡°I don¡¯t know what that would mean for Simole¡¯s chances. Maybe it¡¯s unrelated, but I feel like I should hang on to it until I know. Even if I can get it to come out and speak to me, that might tell me something. I know it doesn¡¯t want me to go to the mountain, so it might be weaker there.¡±


    They sat in silence for a moment.


    ¡°What¡¯s it like?¡± said Fanny. ¡°Having a demon inside you.¡±


    Nic shrugged. ¡°No different, really. I only know it¡¯s there when it says something.¡± And when it took over his body, he wanted to say but didn¡¯t.


    There was a knock on the door before it was opened without waiting for a reply. Fanny shot to his feet, shoving the maps off the table as he stood between them and the intruder. ¡°We¡¯re just talking,¡± he said in a high-pitched squeal.


    The librarian looked at the maps on the floor and then glared at him.


    ¡°Well done,¡± said Davo. ¡°I knew you¡¯d be the right man for the job.¡±


    ¡°Those maps are very old,¡± said the librarian. ¡°And delicate.¡±


    Fanny began picking everything up while apologising profusely.


    ¡°I brought you this.¡± She placed a very thin folio on the table. It was bound with a black ribbon. ¡°It¡¯s a very old, and very fragile¡ª¡± she peered over her glasses at Fanny ¡°¡ªtopographical map of the National Park. The Department of the Interior doesn¡¯t make these available to the public, for reasons of national security, but the cartographer is an alumnus and bequeathed the originals to the school, for future generations of mapmakers.¡±


    Nic picked up the folio and, after waiting for the librarian to give him a nod of permission, pulled the ribbon. Inside, there were a dozen or so sheets of beautiful ivory paper, almost as thick as card, with exquisite lines drawn in green ink, forming clusters of warped circles. They almost seemed to be moving on the page.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think you¡¯ll find a more accurate representation of Demon¡¯s Heart.¡± She turned and closed the door behind her. She didn¡¯t give them any kind of warning about taking care of the maps, but she didn¡¯t need to. It was like holding a work of art that should have been hanging in a museum.


    They were due to leave on Sunday morning. The official document recognising the Nature Appreciation Society and all three of its founding members was on the mat when they woke.


    Davo was very pleased with it, especially with his name at the top.


    ¡°President Redavo. I like the sound of it.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not going to start bossing us around, are you?¡± asked Fanny, a slice of half-eaten toast already in his hand.


    ¡°If only I had my own kingdom to banish you from.¡±


    ¡°Presidents don¡¯t rule kingdoms,¡± Fanny pointed out through a shower of crumbs. ¡°You¡¯d have a republic. And you could be ousted by any of your citizens. No line of ascendancy.¡±


    ¡°Planning a coup already?¡± asked Nic, sleepily.


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t put it past him,¡± said Davo. ¡°It¡¯s the hungry ones you have to watch.¡±


    They also received an early morning delivery of clothes from Connoling & Son; a full outfit for each of them.


    ¡°They¡¯re, um, matching,¡± said Fanny.


    ¡°Very,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°They¡¯re supposed to be. Every club has its own uniform. This is ours.¡±


    They were dressed head to foot in tartan. A jacket, and trousers that came to just below the knee. Long, tartan socks. A tartan cap with a red bobble on top. And heavy, brown walking shoes.


    ¡°At least the shoes aren¡¯t tartan,¡± mumbled Fanny.


    ¡°No, but they need to be oiled. Ideally they should be broken in, but we don¡¯t have time.¡± He handed around a small bottle of dark brown liquid.


    Fanny opened the bottle and sniffed the contents. ¡°Why are we oiling them?¡±


    ¡°To make them waterproof,¡± said Nic. ¡°It¡¯s a good idea. Thanks, Davo.¡±


    ¡°Yes, thanks,¡± said Fanny.


    Davo smiled in a patrician-like manner. He was happiest when he was dealing with satisfied customers, even non-paying ones.


    ¡°And if you think these outfits make us look ridiculous,¡± he said, ¡°you¡¯re right. No one¡¯s going to take us seriously, traipsing around the wilderness dressed like this. Let them look down on us and carry on feeling superior. It¡¯s our best hope of being ignored.¡±


    There was a certain logic to Davo¡¯s idea. Make a point of being noticed so they could then be dismissed. Embarrassing, but logical.


    They were to report to the front gate to board their assigned carriage. The details were attached to their official society document. Carriage 42.


    They carried their bags to the designated meeting area and were met by the sight of dozens of carriages, all being boarded by excited students. Luggage was stowed away by school porters as students and teachers sorted out seating arrangements. None of the carriages appeared to be numbered.


    They wandered aimlessly through the crowds trying not to bump into anyone, looking for an empty vehicle.


    ¡°It¡¯s probably the one falling apart with a half-dead nag at the front,¡± said Davo.


    Nic was about to suggest they ask someone, when he walked into a girl and made her drop her bag.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± said Nic. It was one of the climbing girls, the one with honey-coloured hair. She looked ready to explode.


    ¡°Please accept our apologies,¡± said Fanny. ¡°This is our first time going away with the school and we¡¯re a bit lost.¡± He smiled nervously. ¡°I do hope you can forgive a trio of bumbling idiots. We promise to watch where we¡¯re going in future.¡± He bowed, doffing his cap, and came up holding her bag.


    She took the bag, frowned but turned without speaking and got into her waiting carriage.


    They moved on quickly.


    ¡°That was good,¡± said Davo. ¡°You did really well.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve been practising,¡± said Fanny, his nerves and awkwardness gone. ¡°The subtle art of ineptitude.¡±


    They still couldn¡¯t see their ride, but as the carriages started leaving, it slowly dawned on them which was theirs.This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    ¡°It can¡¯t be that one,¡± said Fanny. ¡°It¡¯s too¡­ nice.¡±


    There was a small but very well-maintained carriage with no passengers. It had a polished rosewood exterior, a sleek black horse pawing at the ground and a rich, red leather interior.


    They approached nervously, afraid of being laughed at for even thinking this was to be their assigned transport. The driver stood by the horse, stroking its neck.


    ¡°Excuse me, my good man,¡± said Davo, overcompensating by a large amount, ¡°is this number forty-two?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right, sir. Can I take your bags?¡±


    They handed over their luggage and watched the driver tie them to the small platform on the back.


    ¡°There you are,¡± said Brillard, appearing from the other side of the carriage. ¡°I thought you might have had a change of heart, or something. Shall we depart?¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± said Nic. ¡°You¡¯re riding with us?¡±


    ¡°Certainly. This is my father¡¯s carriage. I thought it would be best if I escorted you personally, what with it being your first time. Help you settle in quickly. I wasn¡¯t expecting the outfits.¡±


    ¡°No. Neither were we,¡± said Nic. ¡°I mean, club uniform.¡±


    The driver came back to open the door but Brillard sent him away with a casual wave. ¡°We¡¯ll be surviving off our own power from here.¡± He held the door open for them to get in.


    The journey was to take several hours. The park was in the south of Ranvar and the camp was deep in the woods. The carriage was as comfortable as it looked, riding over bumps in the road with barely a shudder. As the highway curved ahead of them, they caught sight of the other carriages ahead of them, an orderly convoy reaching to the horizon, it looked like.


    The carriage was also surprisingly quiet. Nic had travelled in carriages of all sizes, to and from the capital, mainly, but also to other places. The one thing they all had in common was the noise. Wheels grinding against the road. Axles and joints rattling. The wind growling as it sneaked in between cracks and gaps.


    There was none of that this time. Just a mild hum, like a cat purring under their feet. There was no need to raise your voice to speak, like you¡¯d have to in a regular carriage.


    ¡°Do let me know if you have any questions,¡± said Brillard. ¡°I may not know the answer, but I can probably find out for you. Or point you at the right person. I¡¯m afraid my appreciation of nature is somewhat limited but I can assure you there won¡¯t be a shortage of things to appreciate.¡±


    No one asked anything and they travelled in silence until Brillard pointed at Fanny. ¡°Fandral, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Fanny.


    ¡°Your father¡¯s a mage at the Royal College, I believe.¡±


    Fanny sighed. ¡°He is.¡±


    ¡°That must be helpful. The insights you have, puts you at an advantage, no?¡± It was posed as a friendly query, but Fanny squirmed under the polite interrogation.


    ¡°We saw a group of boys, back at the climbing wall,¡± said Nic in an attempt to unpin Fanny. ¡°Climbing.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Brillard, pivoting effortlessly like he had been expecting exactly this question. ¡°They¡¯ve reformed the Climbing Club. By which I mean they¡¯ve re-formed it, not reformed it. It¡¯s been long enough for the appropriate amount of respect to be shown, and for lessons to be learned, hopefully.¡±


    Nic nodded. He wasn¡¯t sure why that had popped into his head. Even if they were climbing the mountain, they wouldn¡¯t be going to the top.


    ¡°Are you planning to climb the mountain?¡± asked Brillard.


    There was a long silence.


    ¡°We¡¯re just a trio of¡ª¡±


    Davo nudged Fanny in the side to shut him up.


    ¡°We thought we¡¯d see how far up we could get,¡± said Nic. ¡°Out of curiosity.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s a reason we aren¡¯t allowed up there,¡± said Brillard.


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°I don¡¯t suppose the Secret Service would allow anything like that,¡± said Fanny.


    ¡°The agents withdraw to the edge of the park,¡± said Brillard. ¡°Easier to monitor from the perimeter. Also easier to spot uninvited guests. They don¡¯t pay much attention to what the students do. There¡¯s an unspoken agreement not to interfere unless absolutely necessary. It wouldn¡¯t do for the nobility to be assisted when their ability to cope on their own is being tested. To be frank, if someone was to attempt climbing the Demon¡¯s Heart, I doubt they¡¯d do anything about it.¡±


    Brillard was sitting on one side with Nic beside him; Fanny and Davo opposite. Brillard¡¯s eyes travelled from one to the other until they rested on Nic.


    ¡°Do you think there¡¯s some truth to the stories about magic rituals and so forth? Summoning of power from dark places.¡±


    ¡°You mean the sacrifices?¡± said Fanny.


    ¡°Indeed,¡± said Brillard ominously. ¡°People said to be possessed were cured of their possession, apparently. In rather brutal fashion.¡± He smiled.


    Nic shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s probably just a craggy peak with a bit of grass growing on it.¡±


    ¡°More than likely. But it is Demon¡¯s Tithe. A night strongly associated with those rituals I mentioned. Stars lining up and such and such, creating the conditions for powerful forces to converge. A common belief among people who don¡¯t understand the reasons for astrological myths.¡±


    ¡°What reasons?¡± asked Fanny.


    ¡°Agricultural, mainly,¡± said Brillard.


    Fanny looked confused. Davo was looking out of the window, but a crease appeared in his brow.


    ¡°Most of the stories to do with stars and constellations are an early form of calendars,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°Most?¡± asked Brillard.


    Nic shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t think you can speak in absolutes.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean, calendars?¡± asked Fanny.


    ¡°Before people learned to write,¡± said Nic, ¡°before they had invented paper or even writing with chalk or charcoal, they were farming. And they learned that different times of the year were better for planting and harvesting.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Fanny. ¡°So?¡±


    ¡°They also noticed,¡± continued Nic, ¡°that different groups of stars appeared in the sky at different time of the year, every year. So they could time their crops by the stars. But they couldn¡¯t write it down to pass on the information.¡±


    ¡°Why didn¡¯t they just tell them?¡± asked Davo, peeling his eyes from the ever-moving countryside.


    ¡°They did. And in order to make it easier to remember, they made it into a story. That constellation looks like a sword. It belonged to a great hero who died and was reborn.¡±


    ¡°Varagas,¡± said Fanny.


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Nic. ¡°So when he appears in the sky, that represents when he was born. So time to plant your seeds. And when he disappears, he died. Time to harvest. Then he comes back, plant again. It¡¯s an easy way to remember when you don¡¯t have books. But when people stopped needing the stories, they kept telling them because they liked them. And in some cases they took on a different, more spiritual meaning.¡±


    ¡°Couldn¡¯t some of those stories be true, though?¡± asked Fanny.


    Brillard scoffed. ¡°Possible, but not likely.¡±


    ¡°That could be said about a whole host of things,¡± said Davo, ¡°that turned out to be as advertised, in spite of how unlikely they were. Arcanum makes many unlikely things possible.¡±


    ¡°I will concede that,¡± said Brillard.


    Outside the window, trees became fields of grass, then came the turn of farmed land, black earth lying in deep furrows. Villages appeared in the distance as squat groups of white blots with an occasional splash of colour. A red roof, a brown fence. Orchards of bare trees, the dull glimmer of light reflected off a pond.


    Trees returned in force and the road split into two. They moved over to the right and were soon under a canopy. These trees were still covered in green, their branches heavy with pines and needles.


    The road was rougher, covered in small rocks that hummed as the wheels ground them down.


    On either side of them, the land rose in steep slopes, creating a gully. The trees were enormous now, rising so high you had to stick your head completely out of the window to see their tops, and even then they merged with each other so no individual could be marked out from its neighbour.


    Up ahead were two gigantic boulders, one on either side of the road. Across the top, a fallen tree had either been placed or had toppled very serendipitously. There were no branches, just a bare trunk covered in green moss.


    They rode under it, a gate into the forest¡¯s heart, in the middle of which sat a demon¡¯s.


    The valley broadened, opening into a large depression with rising forests on either side. It was like they were sinking into the earth. Jagged rocks appeared between the trees, the first hint of the stone edifice that suddenly rose in front of them, a blank palm raised to prevent all further movement.


    The sheer mountainside was accompanied by a roar. The sound of water rushing. It was relentless and angry, it seemed to Nic. He couldn¡¯t see the River Din, but it didn¡¯t need to be seen to make its presence known.


    The carriage followed the winding road, slower now.


    ¡°Welcome to Camp Ransom,¡± said Brillard as they came around the bend and caught their first sight of the camp. It was not what Nic had expected.


    There were no tents or impromptu shacks. It was more like an artfully constructed toy village. The buildings were made from logs, but wouldn¡¯t have looked out of place in a town centre. There was no sign of wilderness hardships.


    The carriage stopped next to a double-storey stable. Grooms were already taking care of the horses from the carriages lined up, and most of the students had already disembarked.


    ¡°You¡¯re in this building here.¡± Brillard took them to one of the smallest cabins, which was still far larger than their cottage on campus. ¡°Make yourselves at home, and since you don¡¯t have a teacher to call on for assistance and advice, feel free to give me a shout if you have any questions. I¡¯m over there.¡± He pointed at the building opposite, which could have been a Town Hall in some rural municipality.


    They took their bags inside and each took a bedroom, of which there was six. Each with its own bathroom. There was a kitchen with a full pantry. A closet full of musical instruments, for some reason. And an area on the wooden floor that was lighter in colour, like something had recently been moved.


    ¡°I think someone¡¯s borrowed our grand piano,¡± said Fanny. He wasn¡¯t joking.


    ¡°When should we start?¡± asked Davo.


    ¡°Now,¡± said Nic. ¡°The sooner we go, the better chance no one realises we were even here.¡±


    ¡°Right. Give me five.¡± Fanny grabbed his bag, emptied all the clothes and began filling it with food from the pantry.


    Davo shook his head, but got water from the pump in the kitchen and filled the water bottles they¡¯d brought with them.


    Nic checked he had his notes and all the maps he¡¯d drawn. He pocketed a compass and the pen.


    ¡°What about this?¡± said Fanny. He held up a large kitchen knife, suitable for cutting steak.


    ¡°What are you hoping to do with that?¡± asked Davo. ¡°Offer the demon a shave?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s more out there than demons,¡± said Fanny defensively. ¡°Wild animals.¡±


    ¡°Take it if you want,¡± said Nic. ¡°But be careful. If you trip and stab yourself, we might have to leave you behind.¡±


    ¡°Although, if we get lost and have to eat each other,¡± said Davo. ¡°it could come in handy. You look like you¡¯d broil nicely.¡± He squeezed Fanny¡¯s arm.


    ¡°You¡¯re both not funny,¡± said Fanny. ¡°This is serious. We could find something really horrible on top of the mountain.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s just gallows humour,¡± said Davo. ¡°We all know how this could turn out. I guess we all liked that girl more than we were willing to admit.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± said Fanny. ¡°I admitted I liked her from the start.¡±


    ¡°Me too,¡± said Nic. ¡°Or do you mean like like?¡±


    ¡°Are you confessing your feelings?¡± asked Fanny. ¡°I didn¡¯t think you had any.¡±


    ¡°Give me that knife,¡± said Davo. ¡°I just thought of a use for it.¡±


    They emptied half the contents of Fanny¡¯s bag, despite his protests, to make room for blankets. They planned to spend the night on the mountain and had the necessary tools to start a fire. It would be too dangerous to come down in the dark and if there was something up there, it might not arrive until midnight, the traditional time of Demon¡¯s Tithe. They all knew how foolish it sounded and didn¡¯t discuss it more than they had to.


    They left their palatial residence and stood outside like they were heading off for a pleasant stroll in the woods.


    Davo had a magnifying glass he took great pains to display as they walked through the camp. As expected no one paid them any attention. They were far too busy rushing around getting organised for whatever activity they had come to participate in.


    The roar of the river got louder and as they passed the last building, the River Din appeared, flowing through a ravine that veered off to the left of the mountain, foam seething between the boulders and logs washed along by the current.


    Nic stopped.


    She stood resting her elbows on the railing of the short jetty with furiously bobbing boats tied to it. Her head was drawn into her delicate, upraised shoulders as she leaned forward, gazing at the water churning under her feet.


    Nic moved toward her like he was being dragged by a rope, tied to a team of horses. She turned before she could have heard him. Her look cut the rope with a single, razor-sharp glance.


    ¡°Here, in the upper reaches, the river is a shallow stream. Up here, you can cross it without much difficulty. Lower down, in its middle reaches, the river is an insurmountable obstacle, smashing and breaking against the beds of its deep chasms. You should take care.¡±


    Nic nodded, turned and walked back to the others.


    ¡°She has a very pretty way of saying terrifying things,¡± said Davo.


    ¡°I think she made me forget how to swim,¡± said Fanny.


    They carried on walking. The trail disappeared and the trees crept closer and closer until they were stepping over roots and slipping between trunks. The sounds from the river faded until it was no louder than a bee buzzing menacingly too far away to worry about.


    Birds cawed and hooted and occasionally flitted past like darts. If they had truly come to appreciate nature, they would have no need to go any further. But they carried on.


    Occasionally, they heard voices calling out. Whoops and yells. When they moved to climb the slope, edging around the bottom of the mountain, they saw a valley full of fallen trees and logs. Runners chased each other over them and under them and through them. They ran nimbly, fluently, with incredible grace, their purple shirts flashing in and out of sight.


    ¡°That¡¯s the Hiking Club,¡± said Davo.


    ¡°That¡¯s hiking?¡± said Fanny.


    ¡°I checked the listings. Purple shirts, orange shorts. You don¡¯t forget a combination like that in a hurry. Enough to make any tailor of distinction howl in horror and despair.¡±


    They stopped after an hour to eat and drink. They sat in silence on a fallen brittle-dry tree trunk, listening to the wind rustling in the treetops and a woodpecker hammering away somewhere close by.


    Fanny reached into his bag and took out the herbal detector. The box looked battered and worn.


    ¡°Why did you bring that?¡± asked Davo.


    ¡°You never know,¡± said Fanny. ¡°We might detect something.¡±


    ¡°In a null space?¡± said Nic. ¡°It won¡¯t work, will it?¡±


    ¡°I made some modifications. But no, it probably won¡¯t. It¡¯s more like a lucky charm. I feel better with it on me.¡± He turned the dial and pointed it around. ¡°Just background.¡±


    Nic put a hand in his pocket and felt for the pen.


    The slope stretched out below them and was less severe ahead. They had worked their way around in less than three hours, but there was still a way to go, and they hadn¡¯t come across any of the known trails. According to Nic¡¯s calculations, it would be another three hours before they reached the summit.


    It wasn¡¯t particularly difficult, but it was tiring. Winter days were short and it would soon begin to get dark, and then they would have a much harder time making progress. They had lamps with them, but it would still be better to get there with daylight as their guide.


    They stopped by a large boulder to rest, making sure not to stand in its path in case it decided to roll away. The ground had become much steeper and there was path up ahead, cutting through the trees which still covered the slope. They waited to make sure there was no one else about. The path was made of stone, and layered into the earth like broad steps. It would make it a lot easier to make it to the top, even though it was at an angle rather than straight up.


    They readied themselves for the last part of their journey. The boulder next to them shook and vibrated, as did the ground beneath their feet. They grabbed onto trees as the soil slipped away under their feet.


    ¡°Is this why we aren¡¯t allowed up here?¡± said Davo.


    ¡°This isn¡¯t normal,¡± said Fanny. He had his arm hooked around a sapling that didn¡¯t look very secure, and had the detector out. ¡°Magic. A lot of it. Close by.¡±


    ¡°At the top?¡± asked Nic.


    Fanny pointed the detector towards the peak and shook his head. ¡°No.¡±


    The shaking stopped and they gingerly tested the ground for stability. It seemed to be staying where it was. They kept going.


    ¡°It just went dead,¡± said Fanny, holding out the detector. ¡°Nothing at all. Just like the Pagoda.¡±


    They reached the summit in a few minutes and ducked down behind some rocks. There was fire on the flat top. Around it were a group of men.


    ¡°Mages,¡± whispered Fanny. ¡°Royal College. I recognise the robes.¡±


    ¡°What do we do now?¡± asked Davo. ¡°Leave?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll wait,¡± said Nic. ¡°See what they¡¯re doing here.¡±


    ¡°Hopefully there won¡¯t be any naked dancing around the fire,¡± muttered Davo. He pulled out his blanket and wrapped it around him like a shawl.


    It grew dark very quickly. The temperature dropped just as fast. The sky was clear and dotted with stars that looked far brighter than Nic had ever seen them.


    They lay hidden, wrapped in their blankets as everything faded away as the fire settled to a small flickering glow, only the voices of mages complaining about the cold reaching them.


    ¡°Why?¡± said one. ¡°Why you all looking at me? This wasn¡¯t my idea.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re admiring your beauty,¡± said another with heavy sarcasm, drawing some chuckles.¡±


    ¡°Will he come?¡±


    ¡°How can we know?¡±


    ¡°They say the rebellion in Gweur has been quelled. They¡¯ve scattered the rebels. Only a few managed to escape across the border.¡±


    ¡°A mistake, a mistake,¡± said an older, croakier voice. ¡°They will be caught.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s so sad,¡± said another. ¡°You may not believe it, but of more than a thousand species of fish living in River Din only a hundred years ago, not more than three hundred remain. It is truly sad. Man is such a mercurial creature. We can be saviours or we can be destroyers.¡±


    ¡°Or we can be quiet. I¡¯m freezing my arse and now my brain is numb also from your prattle.¡±


    Flames suddenly shot up into the air, bursting into a golden brightness which drew faces and figures from the dark. The mages all jumped back from the fire, looking up. The three hidden observers did likewise.


    The stars seemed to be moving, taking shape. The shape of a dragon. But it wasn¡¯t made of stars, it was made of flesh and claws and teeth. It landed and breathed out a mist. The fire roared again, flashing brightly. There was a man on the dragon¡¯s neck. He dismounted and moved towards the fire, warming his hands.


    ¡°What are you skulking around like that for?¡± the Archmage boomed. ¡°What do you have to fear, there¡¯s no magic I can use here.¡±


    ¡°You have a rather large dragon with you,¡± said one of the mages.


    ¡°And if I meant you harm, you¡¯d already be dead, wouldn¡¯t you? Use your brain, man.¡± He spoke dismissively, offering no respect to the masters of the Royal College.


    ¡°What is it you want from us? Why did you ask for this meeting.¡±


    ¡°Ask?¡± There was a chortle from the Archmage. ¡°You are here because I called you. We have much to arrange and little time.¡±


    The dragon raised its head and swayed it from side to side. The Archmage stopped and looked around.


    ¡°But first it seems we have company. Come out, whoever you are. Don¡¯t make me send the dragon after you. He hasn¡¯t eaten today.¡±


    The three boys didn¡¯t move.


    ¡°As you will,¡± said the Archmage. ¡°Go fetch your evening meal, my¡ª¡±


    ¡°Wait!¡± said Nic, standing up. ¡°It¡¯s me, Nic.¡± He suddenly feared the Archmage wouldn¡¯t remember him, and added, ¡°Tutt.¡±


    ¡°Come closer boy. What are you doing here?¡±


    He left the other two hidden and approached the fire. The mages on the other side also drew closer to get a better look.


    ¡°Is he the one?¡± said a mage.


    ¡°Yes,¡± said the Archmage. ¡°He is tethered to my daughter.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said Nic, ¡°I¡¯m not.¡±


    ¡°You aren¡¯t?¡± said the Archmage. ¡°I believe I¡ª¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± said Nic. ¡°But it wasn¡¯t her. It was the demon who attached itself to me.¡±


    There was much muttering around the fire.


    ¡°You¡¯re sure?¡± asked the Archmage.


    ¡°It spoke to me.¡±


    ¡°This is good,¡± said one of the mages. ¡°We sacrifice him here, end the threat, just like the old days.¡±


    A chill went through Nic, and not from the cold night air.


    ¡°Yes,¡± said another mage, coming forward. ¡°The demon has no power here, it can¡¯t fight a simple iron blade.¡±


    Nic looked to the Archmage, hoping for a dissenting voice.


    ¡°It is¡­ an option.¡±


    Nic began backing away and was met by a dragon¡¯s head in his back. Hot air billowed around him.


    ¡°No, don¡¯t do that,¡± said Fanny, running from his hiding place, Davo on his heels.


    ¡°Fandral?¡± said a shocked voice as another mage came forward. ¡°What are you doing here?¡±


    ¡°Oh, hello, Father. I¡¯ll explain later.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll explain now!¡±


    ¡°Wait,¡± said the Archmage, ¡°let him speak.¡±


    Fanny held up his detector. ¡°I don¡¯t think you should do anything to Nic. There¡¯s no magic here.¡± The gathered mages looked at Fanny with blank expressions. ¡°Listen.¡± Fanny took the wire that fed the noise from the detector into his ear and pulled it out. He pointed the box at Nic. It began screaming.

 Chapter Twenty Eight

    The box in Fanny¡¯s hand was emitting a high-pitched squeal that was painful to Nic¡¯s ears. Judging by everyone¡¯s else¡¯s reaction, they weren¡¯t enjoying it much, either.


    ¡°That¡¯s a herbal detector isn¡¯t it?¡± asked the bald man standing closest to the Archmage. A horizontal scar ran across his face, just under his eyes and across the bridge of his nose. ¡°Why is it making that dreadful noise?¡±


    ¡°Stop asking stupid questions, Berimonga,¡± the Archmage snapped at the man. ¡°And turn off that wretched thing.¡±


    Fanny turned off the detector and the sound died away, though not before one last shriek.


    The Archmage took it from Fanny, snatching it out of his hands. ¡°Grims, take a look at it.¡± He passed the box to a stocky man with a dark complexion who turned the wooden box over in his large, calloused hands.


    ¡°Looks to have been modified. What did you do to it, boy?¡±


    Fanny squirmed uncomfortably under the combined gazes of the mages. They had closed in around him, their professional curiosity overcoming their apprehension about what the Archmage and his dragon would do to them.


    ¡°I, um, you see, it was because of Simole¡­¡± He hesitated, looking at the Archmage.


    ¡°Stop blathering and answer the question,¡± said the Archmage, making Fanny even more flustered.


    ¡°Archmage, please,¡± said Fanny¡¯s father. ¡°If you¡¯ll give him a moment to collect himself.¡±


    The Archmage sighed, doing his utmost to keep hold of his temper.


    ¡°He reminds me a lot of you, Bostware,¡± said the Archmage. He didn¡¯t elucidate, but it was clear it was meant disparagingly.


    ¡°Well, he is my son,¡± replied Fanny¡¯s father, refusing to take the slight as intended. Something about him made Nic feel less vulnerable, up here on a mountain with the combined power of Ranvar¡¯s magical might.


    Nic¡¯s mind raced in an effort work his way out of the tight spot he¡¯d got them into. Whatever he told them, he was sure they would do whatever was in their best interest and not his.


    Nic stood next to the dragon, glad to not be the focus of attention for the time being, even if that meant remaining within biting distance of the giant lizard.


    He could feel the hot, wet breath brushing against his hands as they hung by his side. The thump of its heart in its chest, like a slow explosion a long way away, vibrated through him. The metallic scales clinked as is shifted its weight and there was another sound which Nic thought might be purring, but which he realised was ivory grinding against ivory as enormous teeth slid against each other.


    Nic looked over at Davo. The tall, thin figure wasn¡¯t moving, his face impassive, betraying no emotion. Nic wished he had that kind of composure. He could tell Davo was measuring each man, not for a suit, but for the correct approach.


    ¡°I just tweaked it a bit,¡± said Fanny in a wavering voice. ¡°I was trying to make it more sensitive, so we could keep an eye on the Secret Service agents¡­¡± He faltered again. It wasn¡¯t nerves that kept tripping him up, it was the effort to not say the wrong thing in this highly-judgmental company. ¡°It would be easier if I showed you.¡±


    He reached for the box. Master Grims hesitated for a moment, then handed it over. With a few deft moves, Fanny removed a section, turned it over and revealed the inner workings. The faint glow from the fire made it hard to see inside, but there was something glittering inside the box.


    ¡°This can¡¯t be correct, can it?¡± asked a white-haired mage, the colour incongruous with his youthful face. ¡°That¡¯s Arcanum. Active, up here.¡±


    ¡°Where did you get this?¡± asked the Archmage.


    ¡°Um, well, originally, Simole powered it up for me. That lasted a few weeks. Then it died and I couldn¡¯t get it to work, but, um, something happened the other day, in Nic¡¯s room and¡­¡± Fanny bit his lip as he realised he¡¯d said too much, again.


    All eyes shifted to Nic. He took an involuntary step back, bumping into a wall of dragon.


    ¡°I had a visitor, from Gweur.¡± He hadn¡¯t meant to say that, but it was like the dragon¡¯s nudge had popped it out of him.


    The mages began muttering and mumbling among themselves.


    ¡°Quiet,¡± barked the Archmage. ¡°Go on.¡± He gave Nic a permissory nod.


    ¡°He appeared in my room. Out of thin air. And then he left.¡±


    ¡°Teleported,¡± said Berimonga. ¡°What did he want?¡±


    ¡°He said he was a follower of the demon. He thought I was, too. He used magic, but he didn¡¯t seem to be able to control it fully.¡±


    More muttering followed.


    ¡°Raw Arcanum.¡±


    ¡°How was this not detected?¡±


    ¡°The Secret Service should have. Isn¡¯t that the reason they¡¯re there? They¡¯ve been very disappointing of late.¡±


    ¡°Of late? Haven¡¯t they always been¡ª¡±


    ¡°Gentlemen, please,¡± said Berimonga. ¡°The inquest can wait. Let¡¯s deal with the matter at hand, first.¡± He turned back to Fanny. ¡°For whatever reason, the device works. But why does it detect Arcanum in him?¡± He pointed at Nic.


    Fanny shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t know, sir. But it must be something important.¡±


    There was a disappointed reaction to this answer, even greater than the disappointment with the Secret Service.


    Fanny became flustered again. He turned to Nic. ¡°You said we¡¯d find something up here. Isn¡¯t this it?¡±


    Nic understood Fanny¡¯s need to be validated in front of all these doubting eyes, which included his father¡¯s, but he still wished he hadn¡¯t dragged him into it. Nic didn¡¯t have any answers, either.


    ¡°Fandral¡¯s right,¡± said Davo. It was hard to tell which was stranger, Davo¡¯s calm and measured voice in such a tense situation, or that he had used Fanny¡¯s proper name. ¡°We came here to find something. Some proof we were on the right track. We found it.¡±


    ¡°And you are?¡± asked the Archmage.


    ¡°Redavo Conoling, Archmage. Pleased to make your acquaintance.¡± He bobbed his head in a barely perceptible bow.


    ¡°The Conoling Store?¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir. My father.¡±


    ¡°Yes, I know him. He supplies the college raiments. At a far more reasonable price than that crook, Miggets.¡±


    Davo, who had been the picture of composed poise, now positively brimmed with giddy aplomb, throwing him completely off his game. ¡°Thank you, I¡¯ll be sure to tell him.¡±


    The Archmage snorted. ¡°Never mind that. Why did you come here? Who sent you? The demon?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said Nic. ¡°It warned me not to come. I think it¡¯s scared of this place.¡±


    ¡°Then who?¡± asked the Archmage.


    ¡°Winnum Roke,¡± said Nic. ¡°Not directly. In her book of fairy stories.¡±


    There was more scoffing, this time for all sides.


    ¡°Quiet!¡± shouted the Archmage. ¡°He isn¡¯t talking about the books you all have in your homes, you blithering idiots. Are you?¡±


    Nic shook his head. ¡°It¡¯s the original manuscript.¡±


    The scoffing was replaced by a communal gasp.


    ¡°How is that possible?¡± said the white-haired mage. ¡°There¡¯s only one copy, and that¡¯s in the Royal College vault.¡±


    ¡°Use your head, Denkne,¡± said the Archmage. ¡°That¡¯s a fake. The original is kept safe, away from curious mages. But our little bookworm seems to have found his way to it.¡±


    Denkne bristled under the criticism. ¡°That still doesn¡¯t explain why the herbal detector¡ªthe modified detector¡ªsays this boy¡¯s full of magic. Here. Where magic can¡¯t activate.¡±


    ¡°I think the only one who can answer that is the demon. Can you summon it, Nic?¡± The Archmage was much more temperate with Nic than he was with his senior mages.


    ¡°No. I don¡¯t know how. It comes to me at night, mostly. When I clear my mind.¡±


    ¡°Do that now. Let it come and take over your body. Let it speak through you.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said Nic before he could stop himself. He had taken care not to allow the demon ownership of his body. He had felt the demon attempt it and he strongly suspected that if he allowed it once, it would become harder and harder to resist. He felt the weight of expectation from the Archmage, the insistence, but it would be a mistake, of that he felt sure.


    ¡°Do as I say, boy. There is no danger to you, here.¡±


    ¡°I think there is,¡± said Nic defiantly. ¡°I think the fact Fanny detected magic in me means there is a very real danger. I won¡¯t let it control me. I won¡¯t give it my voice.¡±


    His voice sounded feeble to his own ears, but he clung to his resolve. Pitiful defiance in front of a group of men who could snap him in two with a thought. But not here. They had no access to their great powers here.


    ¡°Then what do you suggest?¡± asked the Archmage, irritation creeping into his voice.


    ¡°If¡­ If it comes, I can tell you what it says.¡±


    ¡°If it comes, we should kill it,¡± said Master Grims.


    ¡°How?¡± asked the white-haired mage. ¡°Cut the boy¡¯s throat?¡±


    Grims nodded. ¡°Yes, Denkne. If need be.¡±


    The dragon suddenly moved. It had been sitting, quietly grinding its teeth behind Nic, only occasionally flexing a limb. Now it lunged forward and placed its head between Nic and the bickering mages.


    Steam escaped from its nostrils and rolled across the ground. When the mist reached the fire, there was another flaring of flames. They shot into the air in tongues of gold and orange, lighting up the entire mountaintop.


    The dragons lips curled back over its teeth. The mages backed away.


    The Archmage stepped forward and pushed the dragon¡¯s snout with a firm hand, sending the head floating back into the air on the long, serpentine neck.


    ¡°We won¡¯t be cutting anyone¡¯s throat. Even if the tether isn¡¯t to my daughter, she is still bound to you, somehow. The All-Father¡¯s reaction confirms it. He wouldn¡¯t protect you unless he sensed her close to you.¡±


    Nic considered what the Archmage was saying. Did that mean the demon had lied to him? He doubted it. From what he had read, demon¡¯s didn¡¯t lie. But he might have misunderstood.


    ¡°I¡¯ve only ever made contact with the demon,¡± he said. ¡°But¡­ the demon may be in contact with Simole.¡±


    The Archmage nodded. ¡°A bridge. Yes, it¡¯s possible. But we¡¯ll only know if we speak to the demon. Now, summon it.¡±This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    He made it sound like Nic could snap his fingers and call the demon like a pet. The same way he was snapping his fingers and treating Nic. A pet of no consequence.


    Nic sat down cross-legged on the uneven ground. Stones and pebbles dug into him, making it hard to get comfortable. Being intensely observed by the most powerful mages in Ranvar didn¡¯t help, either.


    The dragon, at least, was behind him and out of his line of sight. He could still hear the steam hissing out of its nostrils, though.


    He tried to clear his mind the way he¡¯d taught himself. It was very difficult. His eyes were closed but the impatient look on the Archmage¡¯s face remained clearly visible, somehow. Magic didn¡¯t work here, so it had to be pure depth of feeling that the Archmage was projecting.


    Nic shifted his weight and let his mind go blank. Little noises crept in and filled the void. He tried breathing deeper, holding his breath and letting it out slowly.


    He opened his eyes and they were all standing watching him. Some had their arms crossed, others had their hands behind their backs, leaning forward to see the first signs of a demon materialising, probably so they could attack him with rocks or sticks.


    ¡°I can¡¯t do it if you stare at me like that,¡± he said, trying his best not to sound like he was making excuses. ¡°Could you go over by the fire? I¡¯ll call you when I¡¯m ready.¡±


    Reluctantly, they moved away. The dragon settled down, its tail sweeping round to circle Nic, the tip flip-flopping from one side to the other. Nic placed his focus on it and blocked out everything else. Voices drifted over to him, but he let them pass by.


    ¡°I don¡¯t understand how it¡¯s possible,¡± said Fanny¡¯s father. ¡°The whole point of Demon¡¯s Heart is a null space where Arcanum is inert. There shouldn¡¯t be any magic of any sort.¡±


    ¡°Maybe it isn¡¯t Arcanum,¡± said Fanny. ¡°Maybe it¡¯s another source of magic.¡±


    ¡°Is this what you¡¯ve been doing at Ransom? Investigating alternative power sources?¡± He sounded mildly scolding.


    ¡°No. Only in my spare time.¡±


    ¡°Leave the boy alone, Barstowe.¡± It sounded like the one called Denkne. ¡°He¡¯s stumbled onto something most mages at the Royal College would give their eye teeth to have discovered. A form of magic we weren¡¯t aware of¡ªit¡¯s remarkable.¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t know that¡¯s what it is,¡± said Berimonga. ¡°Not knowing doesn¡¯t mean any guess is right. There¡¯s a demon involved, remember. Look at how we¡¯ve advanced our understanding of Arcanum in the last thousand years. Did you think the demons wouldn¡¯t make advances, also? They had a hell of a head start.¡±


    ¡°Then why didn¡¯t they discover these advancements a millennium ago?¡± asked Master Grims. ¡°Like you say, they had a hell of a head start. Plenty of time to learn all there¡¯s to know.¡±


    ¡°Simple, isn¡¯t it?¡± said a voice Nic couldn¡¯t place. It was older, with a cracked quality to it. ¡°They had no need to. They used the powers they required and no more. Efficient. Then they came here and learned their mistake. We drove them out, but they probably realised we would run into each other again. So they made sure they were ready.¡±


    ¡°Speculation. Their weakness was their unwillingness to adapt. Stuck in their ways. I doubt that¡¯s changed.¡±


    ¡°Raw power wasn¡¯t enough, they know that now.¡±


    ¡°Or they could bring more power, next time.¡±


    ¡°This time, you mean. This could be the opening they¡¯ve been waiting for.¡±


    They were talking over each other, making it very hard to tell who was speaking. Nic was trying to stay inside the emptiness of his mind, but even the softer spoken voices were proving impossible to ignore.


    ¡°How long is this going to take?¡±


    ¡°Demon¡¯s Tithe is almost here. Look, the stars are almost in conjunction.¡±


    ¡°You think he¡¯ll wait for the exact moment of Demon¡¯s Tithe.¡± There was a dismissive scoff. ¡°Don¡¯t be so superstitious.¡±


    ¡°There is an order to these things. Such is the way of magic.¡±


    ¡°Magic.¡± This voice was clearly the Archmage. There was no missing his commanding tone. ¡°It is the embodiment of chaos. We cannot classify it in absolute terms. We only see one aspect of it. There could be countless.¡± There was a pause. Nic fell into the silence gratefully.


    ¡°Magic is the key to a door. You do not understand what the door keeps from you. The door behind which lurk nightmares, fear and unimaginable horrors, behind which enemies hide and wait, destructive powers, forces capable of annihilating not only the one who opens the door but with them their entire world. Magic is not chaos. Magic is the weapon used to tame chaos. But there is always more chaos than magic. Chaos will have her revenge in the end. That you stole magic to use for your own petty ends will be your undoing, you children of the dirt. Oh you poor little wizardlings.¡±


    Nic listened, wondering who was speaking. He was drifting so pleasantly within his foggy thoughts, like in a bath full of warm, salty water, it only slowly dawned on him that it was his own voice. But not his words.


    ¡°A weapon, yes,¡± said the Archmage. ¡°But is it not also a great art? One an artist can employ in the creations of great beauty? Should it not be shared with those who would celebrate its possibilities, rather than deny them in fear of making mistakes and errors? How do we evolve beyond our paltry origins without risk? How do we grow without sun and rain?¡±


    ¡°Art? How can you call such ugliness art? Those of you who discovered a talent, abused it for base rewards. You did not grow. Your evolution was in a perverse direction. Admiration transformed into envy. You call it art, but there was little of that art shown when you turned on your allies. We brought you a marvel beyond your comprehension, you drove it through us like a barbed spear. To defeat your enemies is a thing of great glory. To tear your brothers to pieces so only you can feed at the Mother¡¯s teat, what glory is there in that? You use your art to terrorise the weak so you can better see the shape of your strength. It is a most unattractive shape, wizardling.¡±


    Nic listened and the fuzzy edge to his thoughts hardened. He was being used as a conduit. A vessel for the demon to speak through. He had said he didn¡¯t want that to happen, had been determined to not allow it. But he had failed.


    He struggled within himself to regain control, but there was nothing to hold onto. It was like trying to stay upright on a frozen pond.


    When the demon had decided it wished to speak, it had taken control. Not by force¡ªit hadn¡¯t needed to¡ªit merely stepped forward and Nic fell back.


    He was no match. He was a child pitted against adults. His will wasn¡¯t strong enough to fight a thousand-year-old creature born in another dimension. It was his body, his mind, but there was nothing he could do to stop the interloper from usurping control.


    It felt bitter and cold in his throat. Realisation of his own folly and lack of ability took him away from whatever the demon and the Archmage were talking about. It didn¡¯t seem very important to him. The fate of the world may have been at stake, but he didn¡¯t feel like it was a concern of his. He only lived by the decisions made by others.


    His effort to claw his way back to the surface bearing little fruit, he let go. Why waste energy? His experience in solving problems had taught him when to push and when to ease off. And when to give up.


    He wasn¡¯t quite at that point yet, though. He was deeper inside himself than ever before. The demon hadn¡¯t just supplanted him, it had driven him into a part of himself that was vast and overwhelming.


    Only, Nic was familiar with the feeling of being lost in a world he didn¡¯t understand. It was how he had trained himself to learn. Not in small bite-size pieces. That was too slow and time-consuming. He preferred to throw himself in wholly and wait for the patterns to emerge.


    And they always did.


    As he floated inside his own psyche, he felt the flow of the darkness. It wasn¡¯t emptiness, it wasn¡¯t a void. It was just hard to see; a sea of black. And it was full of movement.


    He let himself be pulled along. He could sense it. Now that he had stopped trying to cling onto his physical, corporeal-self, he could feel the cool trickle relentlessly travelling ahead of him.


    He followed it. It became faster and stronger. He was gliding across it, part of it, caught in a current. He could have been smashed to pieces if there was anything in his path, but there was nothing to hinder his journey.


    The light was almost on him before he noticed it. A small dot that grew into a window. He dived through it.


    He was over land. There was sun and sky. He didn¡¯t feel a breeze, no heat from the sunlight. He was falling but not very fast. Floating. He was gently floating over the land.


    Below him, there were fields of wheat, or tall yellow grass, maybe. There was a figure making its way through the middle of it. A girl. Simole. Her hair fluttered in the breeze he couldn¡¯t feel, her face glowed from the heat of the sunshine that gave him no warmth.


    A small, ugly dog ran ahead of her, stopping to look back, making sure she didn¡¯t get lost. The dog looked up at him.


    He wanted to call out to her. He was so high up but he could see her so clearly. If he aimed himself just right¡­


    With a gut-wrenching yank that threatened to turn him inside out, the land flew away from him. It wasn¡¯t the land, it was him. He was being pulled back.


    He rocketed through the opening he had fallen through, arms and legs flailing. The image through the window was like a painting. It looked real and stable, but the framing darkness was dissolving, like ash being sucked away by a twisting zephyr.


    ¡°What are you doing, child? Do you wish to trap your friend forever?¡±


    There was nothing around him. But he knew it was the demon who had summoned him back. And that it was no act of mercy.


    ¡°You¡¯re holding the door open,¡± he said.


    ¡°No, child. This isn¡¯t the door. There is no door to pass through. You have to become the door. She is the door now. She is what you must become to pass into that world. You only observed from afar.¡±


    ¡°Then why do you keep this here?¡±


    ¡°There are many places to go, how will she know this is where she came from? How will she find the way home?¡±


    Nic didn¡¯t understand. He didn¡¯t need to. The demon wanted to maintain this opening, whatever it was, and that gave him something to use as leverage.


    ¡°I will close it,¡± he said, even though he wasn¡¯t sure how. He didn¡¯t have to know to want to do it, though. It was a statement of intention, so not a lie or a truth.


    ¡°She won¡¯t be able to return. You don¡¯t wish her to return?¡±


    ¡°Return to what? There is no point if there is nothing for her to return to. Better for her to find somewhere else.¡±


    There was a pause. A long silence in the darkness.


    ¡°You are angry.¡±


    ¡°You took over my body without permission.¡±


    ¡°Are you truly so precious about something so trivial? Merely a little trespass.¡±


    ¡°Yes. I didn¡¯t realise until now just how precious it is to me. I suppose I have you to thank for that. Next time you take possession of my property, I will come here and close this portal. This is still my home. You are a guest. A rude, ill-mannered one.¡±


    There was a stiffness to the silence this time. He had chosen his words carefully, aiming to offend his guest¡¯s sense of propriety. When someone spent so much time chiding others for their poor sense of decency, it was likely they would be stung to be accused of the same.


    ¡°You have my apologies. I won¡¯t overstep my bounds again.¡±


    It was a promise, of sorts. There was no formal recognition of what those bounds were, but it would do for now.


    ¡°There¡¯s a lot of deterioration around the opening,¡± he said. ¡°Will it last?¡±


    ¡°It must,¡± said the demon. ¡°I must drain it constantly and store the Arcanum here. It resides within you, Nic Tutt.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what Fanny detected?¡±


    ¡°Do not tell them about this. They will see you as a convenient fuel for their ambitions. They will suck you dry like they did with us. They are not what they seem. They may look like the same as people you see every day, but they are vampires. They live by feeding off others.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t we all?¡± said Nic.


    This time the silence didn¡¯t end.


    Nic felt his mind rising to the surface. He felt his heart beating and the cold night air against his skin, and a crushing force against his chest that made it hard for him to breathe.


    He opened his eyes. There were dark scales wound around his body. The dragon¡¯s tail which had been lying nonchalantly in a circle on the ground had been gathered up and tightened around him like cotton wound around a reel. He had been raised to his feet, which were barely touching the floor.


    In front of him stood the mages of the Royal College. They looked worried.


    The dragon¡¯s tail fell into loose coils and Nic landed in a heap. Fanny and Davo came to his aid, helping him up.


    ¡°What happened?¡± said Fanny excitedly.


    ¡°You started speaking in an odd voice,¡± said Davo. ¡°And then you started shaking like you were having a fit.¡±


    Both boys seemed to have lost their nervousness and more or less ignored the men standing around them, their concern taking precedence.


    ¡°Where is the demon?¡± asked the Archmage, raising his voice to get Nic¡¯s attention over the fussing boys in his way. He didn¡¯t shout at them or command them to move.


    ¡°I drove it back,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°You suppressed it?¡± asked Berimonga in astonishment.


    ¡°Because we werehere,¡± said Grims. He picked up a stick and peeled a splinter from the bark which he used to pick his teeth. ¡°Only because we werehere, in this place, was he able to resist. If he were to be tested again, somewhere else¡­¡±


    ¡°A very viable theory,¡± said Denkne.


    ¡°It¡¯s in my mind. It can¡¯t beat me there, unless I let it,¡± said Nic, confident in his words. He didn¡¯t need to theorise, he had experienced it for himself. He had the advantage, which was just as well. He probably wouldn¡¯t have done very well without it.


    ¡°We should take him back to the college,¡± said Denkne. There were some murmurs of agreement which were swiftly quieted by a fierce look from the Archmage.


    ¡°I saw Simole,¡± said Nic. ¡°She¡¯s in the Other Place. It isn¡¯t the dark, horror-filled world I was expecting. It was bright and sunny. She had a small dog with her.¡±


    The Archmage stared at him. When one of other mages tried to speak, he raised a hand to silence him. He kept staring, thinking, assessing. Nic recognised the signs.


    Finally, the Archmage said, ¡°You should go back to the camp before you¡¯re missed.¡±


    ¡°I thought we were going to spend the night here,¡± said Fanny.


    ¡°No, no, listen to the Archmage,¡± said Davo, not one to miss a good opportunity. ¡°We should go. Quickly.¡±


    ¡°Archmage,¡± said Berimonga, his scar darkening across his face. ¡°Should we really¡ª¡±


    ¡°Enough,¡± the Archmage interrupted coldly. ¡°Not too many of these matters at one time, Berimonga, not too many distractions from what¡¯s important. Bostware, your boy shows promise. Send him some equipment from the college stores. Make it seem a personal gift. Denkne, you will take up a temporary position at the school. To observe, and offer assistance when asked. Whenasked, Denkne. That¡¯s all for now, thank you.¡± He dismissed them with a casual wave of his hand. ¡°Come, I will take you down the mountain.¡±


    He looked over at the dragon. It yawned, creating a minor fog bank, and then lowered its head so its neck slithered along the ground towards them.


    The boys looked at each other, not sure they were really being offered a ride on the father of dragons.


    They flew up into the speckled night sky. The hour of Demon¡¯s tithe had already passed with little fanfare and no supernatural occurrences. Not in this world, at least.


    The camp was quiet and still. The students had gone to sleep hours before. There were some signs of the night¡¯s revelries, which had probably served to keep their absence unnoticed. The dragon landed lightly behind their small building.


    ¡°Tell no one about what happened tonight,¡± said the Archmage. ¡°My daughter is part of this demon¡¯s plans. I believe you are the only one with any hope of saving her without giving it what it wants. And even that is a very small hope.¡±


    The three boys slid off the dragon and stood shakily looking at each other after their dragon ride. They had silly grins on their faces. It had been quite an experience.


    ¡°Stay out of trouble, and try to be more discreet in future.¡± The giant dragon lifted into the air in a very indiscreet manner, and yet woke no one and drew no looks.


    ¡°Wow,¡± said Fanny. ¡°That was cool. Wish I could tell someone.¡±


    ¡°Remember, discretion,¡± said Davo. ¡°Don¡¯t be a blabbermouth.¡±


    Nic let out a breath and turned around. He was suddenly very tired and wanted to crawl into bed.


    Brillard was standing in the doorway of their cabin with a cup of some hot beverage in one hand and a very surprised look on his face. He slowly pointed at the dark silhouette rising into the sky and in a quavering voice said, ¡°Father of Dragons.¡±

 Chapter Twenty Nine

    Simole looked up at the sky. It wasn¡¯t blue. It wasn¡¯t any colour, really. It had that white tinge you get when you squint up at the sun and its brightness bleaches the area around it. Except there wasn¡¯t a sun.


    There was plenty of light, though. She had to shade her eyes with a hand to look up, it was just that there was nothing in particular to shade them from. It was coming from everywhere. The absence of a sun made it hard to measure the passage of time.


    She had no idea how long she¡¯d been here. Hours, for sure. Days? Maybe.


    She didn¡¯t feel tired. Or thirsty, or hungry. It wasn¡¯t really her body, just a manifestation of her spirit, so she didn¡¯t expect to experience normal sensations, but it was still odd. She didn¡¯t feel all floaty and ghost-like, the way she had back in the Pagoda. She felt very real and solid.


    Around her there was tall grass and endless fields. No roads or signs of anyone else ever having been here. No trees. No animals. Not even insects. Just her. And the dog.


    It was small and ugly, and it sat up ahead, waiting for her with its tongue that seemed too big for its mouth hanging out. Its preferred seating position was to have its hind legs sticking out from under it, splayed so its small pink testicles were clearly visible and pointed in her direction. She experimented moving to the left or right, and the dog shifted around on its small butt to keep her lined up correctly.


    She had been following the dog with no idea where it was taking her and no destination in sight.


    ¡°Is it very far, where we¡¯re going?¡± she asked the mutt.


    The dog continued panting loudly. It looked around as though expecting someone else to answer her question. Simole carried on walking and the dog jumped back onto all fours and scampered ahead with an awkward, waddling gait that went from side to side as much as it went forward.


    Simole took a deep breath, more from habit than necessity. She didn¡¯t need to breathe, either. It still made her feel refreshed to inhale deeply. Once, when she had been very young, she had trapped herself in a pantry closet. Her calls for help had gone unheard. It had taken her father two days to notice she was missing and release her.


    She had a vivid memory of the moment the stuck door had opened and she took that first breath of fresh air. How cool and delicious it had tasted after the sweaty, stale air with which she had been forced to suffice.


    Entering this world had struck her in a similar way, only it wasn¡¯t the non-existent air that she sucked down greedily, it was Arcanum that had flooded her senses. It was many times the level to be found back home. Ranvar was a stifling closet compared to this place.


    She raised a hand and half the grass in the field flattened to one side so she could see the dog clearly. It required no effort, no transfer of Arcanum from one place to another. Free power.


    It gave her a sense of security to have so much of it at her disposal. She followed the dog without fear, confident she would be able to handle whatever danger she might encounter. It was a misleading confidence since the boost to her own abilities would be matched by the boost to those of whoever she met. But it was still reassuring to know she wouldn¡¯t need to be measured and efficient in dealing with them. Her father always insisted she remain vigilant at all times, balancing her output with her input. It was the sensible and tedious approach to magic.


    Here, she could keep going for as long as she wished, or was able. It was a great release. She looked forward to facing a demon and trying out her supercharged spells. The only problem was finding one.


    ¡°Are there any demons around here?¡± she called out to the dog. It gave a cursory glance back at her, but kept going. ¡°Are you a demon?¡± she asked it.


    This wasn¡¯t the demon plane she had been expecting. The Other Place was always described as a horrifying dimension where no human could possibly survive, a darkness filled with terrors. Not a sunny field with pretty flowers. She plucked a pink and yellow bloom off a tall stalk and held it up to her eyes. It didn¡¯t seem very demonic. No teeth or horns or menacing red eyes. Just a flower. She tossed it away.


    The dog was sitting again, making an exhibition of itself as it waited for her to catch up. It never got too far away from her. She was sure it had been sent to fetch her, but by whom? Would it have been so hard to attach a note to its collar?


    There were telepathic spells you could use to speak with animals. They weren''t that useful since most animals weren¡¯t particularly intelligent. Their thoughts revolved around their own priorities, which were mainly food-related. They also didn¡¯t have much interest in learning the way people structured their thoughts. Even if they had the answer you needed, they would have to understand the question first to realise what you wanted from them. Telling a dog to fetch a stick is easily communicated. Asking it to tell you where a particular stick you¡¯re looking for can be found is an altogether more complex proposition.


    Simole knew these things from the books in her father¡¯s library. Despite the drawbacks, it would have been an interesting area to explore. But her father had never deemed the more peripheral spells to be worth teaching her. He wanted her to focus on spells that killed things, not ones that opened a dialogue.


    The dog began yapping. It was on its feet, looking up at the sky. Simole turned and tried to see what had caught the dog¡¯s attention, but the glare was too harsh to see anything. If it was a demon come to attack, it would have a very clear advantage, at least for the first strike.


    There was no strike. The empty world remained empty.


    ¡°What is it?¡± she asked the dog. It stopped barking and began licking itself inappropriately. Whatever it had been, it was no longer of interest.


    If there were demons around, it would probably be a good idea to disguise herself. That was an ability her father had considered appropriate for her to learn. It wasn¡¯t a skill she liked very much. It was messy and painful, and limited in range. Adapting facial features or hair colour wasn¡¯t too difficult, but becoming something bigger required planning and strategy. A big, tall man would have to be a thin, tall man with a heavy coat. And you couldn¡¯t reduce mass unless you were willing to cut something off.


    Of course, before she could disguise herself as a demon, she would need to know what they looked like. Which was hard to do when so far she had run into exactly none.


    She peered up at the sky from under a shading hand again. Still nothing to see, although she had also sensed a presence. Was she under surveillance by whatever beings inhabited this place, assuming there was someone other than the two of them here?


    The dog barked to draw her attention, and set off again. She followed behind, hoping something¡ªanything¡ªwould break the monotony.


    It only took another ten steps for her wish to be granted. Seemingly out of nowhere, a black mountain loomed directly in front of her.


    It was still some way in the distance, but it was very big and hard to miss, which she somehow had. And there was also something unnatural about it. Something too symmetrical and artificial about its shape.


    From where she stood, the mountain was a triangle, with one side longer than the other, giving it the appearance of a fin emerging from the water. But its sides were smooth and straights, as though someone had cut them with a chisel and then sanded them down to a smooth finish.


    Maybe it wasn¡¯t a mountain. Maybe it was a building. Maybe it was both. She stood staring at it, trying to make out details, but its surface was too dark. There were some flickers of light, perhaps minerals sparkling, but she was too far away to see clearly.


    The other mystery was where had it come from? She was walking through a flat meadow. She hadn¡¯t crested a hill or turned a corner. She took a couple steps backwards and the mountain quickly sank from view, as though disappearing over the horizon. She stepped forward and it reappeared. It made no sense. What shape was this world that its geometry worked in such alien fashion?


    She imagined whatever race of creature inhabited this world, the mountain was where she would find them.


    The dog barked once. As soon as she looked across, it was up and off. It wasn¡¯t heading towards the mountain, though. It waddled to the left, its short, stiff tail falling from one side to the other like it was about to drop off.


    She followed it, one eye on the black mountain keeping pace with her every step. They probably had a large telescope at the top, keeping an eye on her progress. If you could call it progress.


    The dog was barking again, this time excitedly. She saw it running, its hind legs trying to overtake the front ones so it was practically sideways. Through the grass she saw a small house. It had appeared as suddenly as the mountain, although it was only the size of a cottage so it materialising out of thin air was not quite as preposterous.


    It had a thatched roof with a chimney. Blue smoke drifted into the sky in a twisting thread, accompanied by the smell of cooking. Even though she felt no hunger, the scent of baking bread was enough to make her mouth salivate.


    She glanced over at the mountain, and then back at the picturesque cottage. There was no reason to believe one was more dangerous than the other. Witches in fairy tales often lived in cottages with a ready oven.


    The door was open. A woman¡¯s sing-song voice called out, ¡°Dana. Dana-Long.¡± The dog disappeared through the doorway and could be heard yapping away inside.


    Simole had heard the story of the Dana-Long, the creature who stole away naughty children. An odd thing to call your dog. She walked towards the cottage, hands by her sides, but ready to deal with whatever monster was lurking within.


    She crossed the threshold and found herself in a kitchen with a woman in an apron.


    ¡°Hello,¡± said the woman. She was a little taller than Simole, and older. At a guess, probably at least forty, although she had an attractive face with smooth, unlined skin. Not pretty, but handsome, with strong features that worked well together. Her hair was short and dark, brushed back and held in place by band of blue material. ¡°You¡¯re younger than I expected.¡±Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    It was the sort of thing an adult would say without realising how dismissive it sounded. Simole smiled. At least it was the kind of demon she was used to.


    ¡°You were expecting me?¡± said Simole.


    ¡°You¡¯re from the Royal College, aren¡¯t you?¡± She had large mitts on her hands and was placing a bread tin on the table.


    Simole shook her head. ¡°Are you a mage?¡±


    The woman frowned. ¡°You weren¡¯t sent here to find me?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said Simole, and then asked again, ¡°Are you a mage of the Royal College?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m Archmage Roke.¡±


    ¡°Winnum Roke?¡±


    ¡°Are there any other Archmage¡¯s named Roke?¡± She sounded a little irritated now. It was an effect Simole often had on her elders.


    ¡°Not that I know of. Why are you here?¡±


    Archmage Roke took off her mitts and undid the apron. ¡°If you weren¡¯t sent by the Royal College, what areyoudoing here?¡±


    ¡°I asked first,¡± said Simole. She knew it was a childish thing to say, and would probably only annoy the Archmage more, but that was why it was so hard to resist saying it.


    ¡°Do you understand where we are? This is the demon plane. The Other Place. If the demons are allowed to find a way back to our world, it would spell the end for everyone.¡±


    ¡°So, you¡¯re keeping them at bay.¡±


    ¡°Something like that. I¡¯ve been waiting for someone to relieve me. I left instructions.¡±


    ¡°No one knows you¡¯re here. If you left instructions, I don¡¯t think anyone found them.¡±


    Under her apron, Archmage Roke wore a simple grey smock tied at the waist with a leather belt. There was a large pouch across the front. She reached into it and took out a small piece of paper and some brown leaves. She quickly combined the two and rolled the paper into a tube which she placed in her mouth. She tapped the end with her finger and a flame appeared.


    A stream of blue smoke rushed out of her mouth and she let out a sigh. ¡°If they didn¡¯t receive my instructions, what are you doing here, child?¡±


    ¡°I fought a demon who was trying to open a door.¡±


    ¡°You stopped the demon from opening the door?¡±


    ¡°No. I stopped the demon, but the door was opened. I decided to see what was on the other side.¡±


    Archmage Roke leaned back, holding the cigarette elegantly between two fingers, blowing a plume of smoke like a banner. Simole coughed and waved fumes away. She¡¯d only ever seen very old people smoking. Most people had stopped once it became known how harmful it was.


    ¡°You have no idea how much danger you''re in, do you?¡± said Archmage Roke.


    Simole was used to being condescended to, as well. ¡°It doesn¡¯t seem so bad.¡±


    ¡°What you see out there isn¡¯t real,¡± said Archmage Roke. ¡°Reality isn¡¯t fixed here. You see what you want to see. Or what others want you to see.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s all you?¡± asked Simole. ¡°Meadows of wild flowers and pretty cottages?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Winnum Roke, detecting the mocking tone Simole was doing nothing to hide. ¡°It¡¯s better than the alternative.¡±


    ¡°What about the mountain?¡±


    ¡°It isn¡¯t a mountain. It¡¯s a ship.¡±


    It hadn¡¯t looked like any kind of ship Simole had ever seen. ¡°A ship that sails on water?¡±


    ¡°No. It travels between dimensions. That¡¯s why this place is so hard to get to¡ªit¡¯s always moving.¡±


    ¡°What will happen to us next time it moves?¡± asked Simole.


    ¡°It¡¯s moving right now.¡±


    ¡°But we¡¯re outside it, won¡¯t we get washed away.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re inside it. And outside it. It¡¯s hard to explain.¡±


    A ship you were inside and outside at the same time. And that moved without moving. That did sound hard to explain.


    ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡±


    ¡°Simole van Dastan. I¡¯m a student at the Ransom School. You went there, didn¡¯t you?¡±


    Archmage Roke crushed her cigarette into the table top and shook her head regretfully. ¡°Another place full of demons.¡± She turned around and took two glasses out of a cupboard and a bottle of wine from a rack on the floor.


    ¡°What does everyone think happened to me?¡±


    ¡°They think you died. A long time ago.¡±


    ¡°How long ago?¡± She filled both glasses.


    ¡°About a thousand years.¡±


    The second glass overflowed as Winnum Roke staggered. She quickly regained her composure. One of those adults who believed you should put on a brave face for the sake of the children. Which was more admirable than her father¡¯s approach of sending the children out first to act as a shield.


    ¡°How old are you?¡± Archmage Roke asked.


    ¡°Sixteen.¡±


    Archmage Roke nodded. She sat down and drank both glasses. Then she made herself another cigarette.


    ¡°I assume there have been many changes since my time.¡±


    Simole shrugged. ¡°I assume so.¡±


    ¡°How many female archmages have there been?¡±


    ¡°You were the only one.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Her voice rose sharply and her eyes bulged. It was the first time she had let her emotions get the better of her. ¡°In a thousand years? I opened the way.¡±


    ¡°They closed it behind you,¡± said Simole. ¡°You shouldn¡¯t have left.¡±


    ¡°I had no choice. All that time keeping the way back hidden, and no one even noticed. At least I have someone to keep me company, now.¡± She looked at Simole with no hint of happiness at the prospect of spending time in her company. ¡°You realise you can¡¯t go back.¡±


    ¡°Why not?¡±


    ¡°Because, my dear child, it will show the demons how to return to our world. Something I have spent the best thousand years of my life preventing.¡±


    ¡°They can¡¯t go there if I stop them here.¡±


    ¡°And how do you propose to do that?¡±


    Simole raised her right hand. The palm glowed white and a beam of light shot out. The chair her hand hovered over was instantly disintegrated, leaving behind a chair-shaped cloud of wood dust which drifted to the floor. The dog whined and threw itself under its mistress¡¯s skirt.


    ¡°Very impressive. Who taught you how to do that?¡±


    ¡°My father. He trained me to fight demons.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s a mage, is he?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s the current Archmage,¡± said Simole, watching for a reaction.


    Archmage Roke refilled both glasses, the cigarette hanging from the corner of her mouth. ¡°He sounds like a wonderful parent. I¡¯m sure the college is in safe hands.¡±


    She downed the glasses in quick succession. ¡°Well, this isn¡¯t how I was hoping to spend my dotage, but I suppose you have to make the best of things. If we don¡¯t draw too much attention to ourselves, we might be able to protect the insufferable ingrates for another thousand years.¡±


    Simole recognised the direction this was headed in. The wise old head making decisions based on common sense and hard-earned experience. Father knows best. As does mother. She had no intention of sitting in a cottage for the rest of her life, where the best case scenario was that nothing would ever happen.


    ¡°I think you¡¯re drinking too much,¡± said Simole.


    ¡°This isn¡¯t real wine,¡± said Archmage Roke, filling the glass from a bottle that seemed to have no bottom.


    ¡°It¡¯s whatever you believe it is,¡± said Simole. She understood how this worked better than anyone. She had been trained for it her whole life. To best demons. And mages. A battle of wills would certainly be easier if your opponent was drunk. Or convinced they were.


    ¡°So, you want to fight the All Mother. Have you any idea how powerful she is? Your little parlour tricks won¡¯t do you any good here.¡± She imitated Simole¡¯s hand movements, but merely slapped the chair next to her and knocked it over.


    ¡°Maybe together,¡± suggested Simole. ¡°We could end this.¡±


    ¡°End it? There is no end.¡± Her voice was slightly slurred. ¡°Do you know what you come to understand when you live as long as I have. I don¡¯t mean a thousand years, I mean thirty-eight.¡±


    Simole was no expert on the aging process, but she doubted very much the Archmage was thirty-eight. She kept those thoughts to herself. Other thoughts, she released freely.


    ¡°Was it very interesting, standing against the invaders, alone. Sounds exciting.¡±


    The Archmage blew air through her lips. ¡°Once you¡¯ve tried everything and the novelty wears off, you realise how boring it all is. Boring and frequently unpleasant. And what thanks do you get? None. It hardly seems worth it. You try all the finest wines and it turns out nothing beats a cold glass of water.¡± She poured herself another glass of wine.


    ¡°You can always surpass expectations,¡± said Simole.


    ¡°What good will that do?¡± demanded the fairly sozzled Archmage.


    ¡°It¡¯ll make everyone feel bad for doubting you.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s true.¡± She picked up the bottle by its neck, considering Simole¡¯s words and finding them pleasing. ¡°Yes! Defeat adversities rather than accept them! Strive for excellence! You must try to do better than the best, even if it means a lifetime of dissatisfaction for your own inadequacy! Failure is better than settling for pathetic mediocrity.¡±


    Spoken like a true teacher. In many ways she reminded Simole of her father. He was equally full of hot air.


    ¡°They stole your best years from you,¡± said Simole.


    ¡°My best thousand years,¡± said Archmage Roke.


    ¡°We should show them how wrong they were.¡±


    ¡°We should!¡± agreed an enthused, tipsy Archmage. ¡°This way.¡±


    She walked out of the cottage with the dog chasing her heels and Simole a short distance behind.


    ¡°Do you know what the All Mother is?¡± said Winnum Roke as they marched across the field towards the black mountain. ¡°She is a vast repository of knowledge. She hoards it jealously and is always greedy for more. We can use that against her. I¡¯m not sure how, exactly, but give me a moment and I¡¯ll think of something. I always excelled at coming up with good ideas.¡±


    ¡°Shouldn¡¯t there be more demons here?¡± asked Simole.


    Archmage Roke stopped and turned, one hand holding the nearly-empty bottle, the other waving around not quite under its owner¡¯s full control. ¡°What makes you think there aren¡¯t? They have no form and can take on any appearance. For all you know, I am a demon. Or perhaps I¡¯m a figment of your imagination, telling you what you want to hear.¡±


    ¡°How would I know?¡± asked Simole.


    ¡°You wouldn¡¯t. You just have to not care and keep faith with yourself. And those you trust.¡± She looked down at the dog. ¡°Even a figment can be of use if it is well founded,¡± she added parenthetically.


    She turned to face the mountain which was still some distance from them. The surface looked like the night sky and the glints of light like stars. Winnum Roke dropped the bottle, narrowly missing the dog who scurried out of range. She raised her hands and made odd gestures, as though trying to coax the stars down.


    The air around her hands crackled blue and grew into a mass of brilliant sparks that settled down slowly into a haze encompassing her figure. The dog sat down next to Simole and tilted its head to one side.


    Winnum Roke leaned forward and reached her hands toward the mountain. Simole''s eyes blurred, she winced and blinked and turned her face away. The Archmage was warping size and distance, somehow, effortlessly stoking the surface of the mountain even though it lay well out of reach. She spoke words that hurt Simole¡¯s ears.


    She called out to something, cajoling and persuading in a language Simole had never heard. Simole felt compelled to walk forward. The mountain no longer looked like a solid object barring her way, it was a hole. The darkness was bright, glowing with a putrid yellowness. Simole trembled and shut her eyes tightly.


    ¡°If we fail, we will have doomed every living person in our world,¡± she heard the Archmage say.


    At least there won¡¯t be any witnesses, Simole thought to herself. A searing pain cut into her face.


    The horrible light was everywhere, but it had taken on a quality that was more than visual. It had a scent that made her gag. It was sound, a fizzing hiss, crackling like relentless whispering. Simole opened her eyes cautiously. She could see again. It was as though the light had never been.


    It was much darker. She turned. Behind her was a white mountain, the same proportions as the black one. There was no sign of Archmage Roke.


    She looked around. It was hard to see anything in the gloom. There were structures in the distance, transparent like they could be made of glass. Coloured lights flared inside them, marking their outlines. As her eyes adjusted, she saw domes and towers lit in red and green and blue.


    She tottered forward, her body filled with a deep chill. Her skin felt dead, her arms and legs heavy and stiff as iron posts.


    ¡°You are the door,¡± said a cold, inhuman voice from somewhere above her.


    She looked up. The sky was crammed full of stars in constellations she had never seen. She raised her hand and tried to bring her power to the surface. Nothing happened.


    ¡°You are the door,¡± repeated the voice. ¡°Nothing more.¡±


    ¡°I am not a door,¡± said Simole defiantly. It didn¡¯t feel like too far-fetched a claim, and certainly one she could believe in.


    ¡°You are the door, Simole. You will show us the way home.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know the way home,¡± said Simole, a little unnerved at the mention of her name. Familiarity was the last thing she wanted.


    ¡°You are connected to the place you call home by a tether. You are caught on a line.¡±


    Simole couldn¡¯t detect any tether binding her, but if the voice said it was so, she didn¡¯t doubt it. The news was something of a relief. She had tried to tether herself and failed. Apparently, someone had done it for her.


    ¡°Perhaps it isn¡¯t me that¡¯s caught,¡± said Simole. ¡°Perhaps it¡¯s the person on the other end of the line.¡±


    ¡°You are the door,¡± said the voice in its relentless way. ¡°We will go home, you and I.¡±


    There was an inevitability about the way the voice stated what would happen. They would return to Ranvar, and she would deal with whatever she had to there. It wasn¡¯t something she felt like resisting.


    ¡°I thought there¡¯d be more of you,¡± said Simole, shivering.


    ¡°There are,¡± said the voice. The stars began to descend one by one.

 Chapter Thirty

    Demon¡¯s Tithe was over and everyone was ready to go home. The atmosphere was one of excited anticipation. They returned from the camp in an endless train, and most of the students departed almost immediately in the fancy carriages waiting for them.


    Nic, Davo and Fanny returned with Brill, having convinced him to ask no questions about what he¡¯d seen. He was surprisingly amenable to this request. Nic was tempted to find out why, but it would have been tempting providence.


    His own ride home didn¡¯t arrive until later in the evening when everyone else had already left. The public coach that travelled from the capital city to his hometown of Hammond passed the school at around six o''clock, and he waved it down to pick him up. Fortunately, it was rarely full on the return journey from the capital.


    He watched from the window as they rushed away from the tall, imposing buildings that had struck Nic as something alien and domineering when he first arrived. Now, they seemed more of a refuge from the storm clouds gathering on the horizon.


    He had said his goodbyes to Davo and Fanny, exchanging only a few words about what had happened to them since they¡¯d met, and nothing about what they would do next. The winter break was also a refuge; a time for them all to consider their options and try to make sense of what they had experienced.


    Nic knew he was embroiled in affairs far beyond his control. His role was only important in as far as his connection to the people who were the true players on the stage. He felt both a fraud and an unworthy participant in such momentous events. He should have been more afraid, both for his own safety and for everyone else¡¯s, but the outlandish nature of the threat made it hard to truly comprehend. Demons wouldn¡¯t really leap out of some schism in the sky and turn Ranvar into their feeding ground¡ªit was too ridiculous.


    His neighbour, Mr Gram, had been waiting at the coach station and drove Nic home in his small cart, asking short, polite questions about Nic¡¯s time at Ransom, and receiving short, polite answers.


    His mother burst into tears when she saw him come walking down the garden path, dragging his trunk behind him. He wasn¡¯t sure if they were due to joy or relief or some other emotion, but they evaporated just as quickly as they¡¯d appeared, so there was no need to dwell on the matter.


    He had written to her every week, revealing little of his true experiences with Ransom school life, so as not to worry her, and nothing at all about his encounters with demons, so as not to send her into paroxysms of dismay.


    She had written back, keeping him informed about her health and general well-being. There was no real exchange of information, nor did there need to be. The effort to stay in touch was all she required, and Nic was happy to provide it.


    ¡°Look at you,¡± she said, wiping away the last of her tears. ¡°You¡¯ve grown so much.¡±


    He hadn¡¯t grown at all, he was pretty sure. He did, however, have new boots on, courtesy of Conoling & Son, and the heels were a little bigger than his other shoes. He didn¡¯t mention it, though. He liked the feeling she could see him as something other than a small child to be protected.


    ¡°Is there anything to eat?¡±


    There was, of course. His mother peppered him with questions as he ate, and he did his best to answer them. He told her about his teachers, the different lessons and how they differed from his old classes. He gave clear descriptions of Davo and Fanny and Simole. And of Mallory, the second year living upstairs.


    Like any test, he knew the kind of answers that would be found satisfactory, and which would lead to him being subjected to more rigorous questioning.


    He was neither evasive or impatient with her queries. He focused on the food, which tasted all the better for the drubbing his tastebuds had been subjected to by the school cafeteria, and responded with a stream of details to satisfy her need to be informed.


    There were things he couldn¡¯t tell her, so he told her more than required about the things he could. Buildings and porters and visiting dragons. He painted the school as a fantastical place, which was an easy thing to portray since that was exactly what it was.


    He didn¡¯t try to rush through it or cut his answers short. A part of her life had been severed in a very abrupt manner and he understood her need to reconnect to at least some of it. As he gave her a glimpse into the days and weeks she had missed, it was almost like he was providing warmth to cold hands in front of a fire. Her tense face relaxed as she accepted the boy who had returned was the same one who had left.


    Of course, he wasn¡¯t the same boy.


    He didn¡¯t really know what he was anymore. He wouldn¡¯t have minded changing from the studious boy whose world was a tight box around his head, but he hadn¡¯t developed into something better. Just something else.


    Once he¡¯d given his mother enough assurances that he was alright and that his life away from her had been a worthwhile sacrifice on her part, he went to his room, thump-dragging his luggage up each step.


    His room looked the same, although it felt colder. And the smell had changed. He unpacked his clothes and lay down on the bed. It seemed smaller than before. Maybe he had grown.


    It was a strange feeling to have no work to do. The mock exams had been the primary focus of the first term, at least academically, and he wouldn¡¯t know the results until the start of the next term. He had three weeks to wait.


    He closed his eyes and slowed his breathing. He had no idea what he should be doing. There was a demon chained to him. A door to another world, somewhere. An infernal army potentially on the march. He was in the middle of it all, and yet he had no role to play. Sit there and let his bettersdeal with it.


    He waited for the demon to make its presence known. He had questions he wished to ask, but there had been no sign of his guest of late. There was no voice in the darkness.


    After lying quietly for a few minutes, Nic rose and got changed. He put on the clothes in his closet. They were his old clothes, clean and ironed, folded expertly in neat stacks as expected in the home of a professional maid. They felt scratchy and uncomfortable, like they were borrowed from someone.


    It took a couple of days before he began to feel settled. Even though the demon refused to communicate with him, he found it soothing to use the meditation techniques he had learned to calm his mind and think over the problems he had faced, and those he would be facing.


    The enormity of what was happening hadn¡¯t really struck him until now. It was much easier to ascribe all the things he had witnessed to a freak storm that had blown into his path, and would, like any storm, blow itself out. But this storm wasn¡¯t a passing meteorological event. It was circling around to make another pass. And it would be much stronger next time.


    His mother still had her work to go to, so he was alone in the house for most of each day. He organised his room, set out his books on his desk, made a list of things he needed to do. It was winter and the cold wind chilled its way through the window panes, yet he found the room stifling. He took to sitting out in the garden, watching the sky. He felt lost.


    On his third day back, his mother returned from work with a letter for him. It was from the Minister of Instruction, requesting he come up to the house. It wasn¡¯t so much an invitation as a summons.


    It made sense that the minister would want to speak to him again. Not only was Nic the premium source of information on what other more important people were up to, he was also conveniently close by.


    Nic wasn¡¯t too concerned. At least it gave him something to do. His mother was a little fretful, but she had confidence in her employer¡¯s intentions. She was mainly worried about Nic making a good impression as the minister could be scouting for a new clerk or, if good fortune were to truly smile on Nic, a secretary.


    It would have taken five minutes to walk up the hill to the house, but a carriage was sent to collect him. His mother was bursting with pride as she waved him off. Nic felt rather silly emerging from the carriage only a few moments after he¡¯d climbed in.


    It had been some time since he¡¯d been here. Whereas his home had felt smaller and more claustrophobic than he¡¯d remembered it, this place seemed to have only become bigger and grander. It was intimidating and his resolve to be calm quickly shrank inside him.


    The door was opened by a skinny man in a tight, black suit. Nic didn¡¯t recognise him. He was asked to wait in the hallway and the skinny man spun around on the polished wooden floor like an ice dancer and clip-clopped away.


    Nic examined the tall paintings on the walls. These he remembered only too well. The elongated, aristocratic faces looking down at him had always struck him as disapproving of his presence, and they still did.


    ¡°What are you doing here?¡±


    Nic turned as Dizzy came down the stairs. She was wearing a dress, which itself was shocking, and had her hair tied up, revealing a long, elegant neck and small, elfish ears.


    ¡°Good evening,¡± said Nic. For a moment he felt her equal. A visitor dropping by. A guest arriving for dinner. The moment was fleeting.


    ¡°I thought I made it clear I didn¡¯t want to see you,¡± said Dizzy with a curl of her top lip. ¡°Not at school, and not in my home. You shouldn¡¯t have come here.¡±


    The last time he¡¯d seen her was only a few days ago, although it felt like much longer. He had spotted her at the camp and made the mistake of taking a few steps towards her. He hadn¡¯t been able to help it. She had cut him dead with a few words and sent him away like you would a bothersome mosquito.


    He didn¡¯t resent her for it. He had only himself to blame and was doing his best to follow her wishes, but he wasn¡¯t here to see her.


    ¡°The minister will see you now,¡± said the skinny butler holding open the door he had just appeared through.


    Nic smiled apologetically. He didn¡¯t want to embarrass Dizzy, although it was hard not to feel a little smug as he saw realisation hit that her assumption had been wrong. He turned and walked through the door.


    There were three men in the room. Minister Delcroix, of course; a portly man with a walrus moustache and an excessive amount of whiskers on each cheek; and a tall man wearing a golden mask.


    ¡°Ah, Tutt,¡± said the Minister Delcroix. ¡°Good. Sit down.¡±


    There were four chairs in a semicircle around the fireplace. The three men were all standing. Nic sat down on the chair closest to him. He felt small and timid and had to fight to keep his head raised.


    ¡°This is Minister Reshvay and this is the Chief of Staff of the Secret Service. He doesn¡¯t have a name. You can speak freely in front of these men, you understand?¡±


    Nic nodded. He recognised Reshvay¡¯s name from the papers. He was the Minister for War. The other man, the one wearing the mask, gave off a terrifying aura, as you would expect of someone in his position. It didn¡¯t feel real, probably a spell, but that made it no less easy to bear.


    ¡°Take off the damn mask, will you?¡± said Reshvay. ¡°You¡¯ll give the poor boy conniptions.¡±


    The head of the Secret Service hesitated for a moment and then took off his mask. The pressure around Nic lessened and he felt the constriction in his chest ease. The man¡¯s whole head seemed to change shape when he removed the mask. The face it revealed was older than Nic had expected. He had the bearing of a strict P.E. teacher.


    Was it really alright for Nic to see his true face? Did it mean they planned to wipe his memory after asking their questions? The thought of being used in such a fashion made Nic feel utterly wretched. He hated being the envelope carrying important letters. Ripped open and then thrown away.


    ¡°You met a man from Gweur,¡± said Minister Delcroix. ¡°In your room. Tell us about him.¡±


    It wasn¡¯t surprising that he knew about Nic¡¯s visitor. He probably also knew about what had happened on Demon¡¯s Heart. Now that the Archmage had taken charge of the Royal College again, it made sense all the different parties would start working together in an effort to stave off the threat of demonic annihilation. Nothing like an extinction level event to bring people together.


    But he still felt like he should be cautious. Simole was out there, somewhere. If he gave up everything he knew, there would be no reason to keep him around. He needed to be there in case she needed a way back.


    Nic struggled to find the right words. Minister Delcroix stepped forward and crouched down in front of him. He looked paler than Nic remembered. His face more austere. He had more things to worry about, so it wasn¡¯t very surprising.


    ¡°Look at me. I¡¯m going to help you focus.¡±


    If the minister put a compulsion on him, there was no way Nic would be able to resist. He was tired and unsure of himself. The truth was he wanted to unburden himself and let others decide what to do. He resented being a person of no significance, but he also longed to be free of the responsibilities he had been tasked with.This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    But there was no spell. The minister was going through the motions, but Nic felt no different. He had experienced the effects enough times to recognise the signs. The sense of freedom, the lack of concern, the desire to speak up¡ªthey were all alien enough from his normal disposition to stand out. They were all absent.


    ¡°Now,¡± said the minister, ¡°go ahead.¡±


    At first, Nic thought maybe the pen in his jacket had absorbed the spell. He put his hand in the pocket and felt the smooth, hard casing. It was no warmer than usual. And the minister would know he had it¡ªhe was the one who gave it to him. He would have asked for it back before casting a spell on him.


    Which meant it was for show. For the other men. And to give Nic permission to speak as he wanted. He wouldn¡¯t be held responsible for whatever he said. He was under a spell that forced him. And because he wasn¡¯t actually the target of any magic, he was also able to keep things to himself, if he wished.


    It was an incredibly generous thing for someone to do for him, especially a state instructor. They weren¡¯t known for their kindness towards witnesses. It made Nic grateful, and also made him trust the minister, which maybe was the point. You didn¡¯t need to use magic to control people, if you were smart and willing to offer benefits to gain their allegiance.


    ¡°He was an acolyte of the demon who was left behind,¡± said Nic. ¡°They¡¯ve been given access to raw Arcanum and can use it to teleport and conceal themselves, but I think it¡¯s very unstable and they find it hard to control.¡±


    ¡°What did he want?¡± asked the head of the Secret Service.


    ¡°The same thing the demon wants,¡± said Nic. ¡°To open a door to the Other Place and allow more demons through. The man believed it would lead to a fairer society where magic will be available to all. We will all be equal.¡±


    Minister Reshvay scoffed. ¡°We¡¯ll all be equally dead, more like.¡±


    ¡°And why did he wish to speak with you?¡± asked the unmasked head of the Secret Service.


    ¡°I¡¯m connected to the demon, and the demon is connected to the Archmage¡¯s daughter.¡±


    There was some consternation expressed at this answer, mainly in the form of a series of unintelligible sounds.


    ¡°This boy¡­¡± said the Minister of War. ¡°What were you thinking, Delcroix? Have him terminated and be done with it.¡±


    It was a similar response to the ones made by the mages. There was no point trying to hide the truth from these men, Nic felt.


    ¡°He is under the Archmage¡¯s protection,¡± said Minister Delcroix. ¡°And also mine.¡±


    ¡°You invite disaster on us all, man,¡± said the head of the Secret Service.


    ¡°We are monitoring the situation closely,¡± said Delcroix.


    ¡°At least allow my men¡ª¡±


    Minister Delcroix raised his hand. ¡°My agents are already in place, and better prepared for this sort of thing.¡±


    ¡°Better prepared?¡± The Secret Service man looked ready to explode.


    ¡°The Archmage¡¯s daughter needs time to eradicate the threat. The boy will be our surest way of learning if she has failed or succeeded.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s just a girl,¡± blurted out the Minister for War.


    ¡°She is the most powerful battle mage we¡¯ve ever produced,¡± said Delcroix. ¡°We should allow her the chance, at least. It would benefit us all in the long run.¡±


    ¡°And what about Gweur? Should we let the boy dictate how we deal with them, too?¡± said Reshvay. ¡°Their government could fall at any moment. This supposed cult has already swept through the peasants, and it¡¯s working its way up.¡±


    ¡°I think the demon probably has allies in the Royal College, too,¡± said Nic.


    They stopped their squabbling and stared at him.


    ¡°Nonsense,¡± barked Reshvay, looking intently at Nic. ¡®A mage working for Gweur? For a demon? Why? For money? Risible. Counting on being rewarded by the victorious enemy? Even more ludicrous. And what part do they plan to play once the demons reign supreme? Offer to keep the dead populace in check?¡±


    ¡°Do you have any reason to think that, Nic?¡± asked Decroix.


    ¡°The demon disguised itself as a master of the Royal College, back when Winnum Roke was a student there. I think it¡¯s been planning this for a very long time. There may be mages who don¡¯t even know they¡¯re being influenced by it.¡±


    ¡°Poppycock!¡± shouted the Minister for War. A stream of more elaborate cursing followed.


    ¡°I think that¡¯s all for now,¡± said Minister Delcroix. He led Nic out to the hall. ¡°Thank you, Nic. I¡¯ll be in touch if I need your help again.¡±


    He looked a lot older now that Nic was standing beside him. His hair hadn¡¯t been this grey before, had it?


    The shouting was continuing inside the room. ¡°Did I say too much?¡±


    ¡°No, I think you said just enough. He¡¯s starting to understand the gravity of the situation.¡±


    ¡°Could I ask you a favour?¡± said Nic. ¡°Actually, two.¡±


    The minister raised an eyebrow. ¡°Yes?¡± They both knew Nic was under no spell and whatever his request, it was purely his own wish.


    ¡°First, a letter to the head librarian at the Librarium, giving me access to the full collection.¡±


    ¡°What is it you hope to find?¡± asked the minister.


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure. I think Winnum Roke predicted this would happen and left us instructions how to deal with it. She would want people to know it was her who saved everyone. Reading her autobiography, I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve even come across anyone more determined to get the credit she believes she deserves.¡±


    The minister smiled. ¡°A prerequisite for being Archmage, I think you¡¯ll find. You don¡¯t think instructions of that sort would have been discovered by now?¡±


    ¡°They may not have been recognised for what they were.¡± Nic knew the implication in what he was saying was that he was able to see things the learned men (and occasional women) of the Royal College were blind to, but it wasn¡¯t much of a claim. He was probably the only person who had ever bothered to look.


    ¡°I¡¯ll see to it. And the other thing?¡±


    ¡°Money,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°How much?¡±


    ¡°Not a great deal. Enough for a small pension. If anything happens to me, my mother¡­¡±


    ¡°Understood,¡± said Minister Delcroix. ¡°I would have seen to it in any case.¡±


    ¡°And thank you, for not using magic on me in there.¡±


    ¡°I try not to use more Arcanum than necessary. The side effects can be bothersome.¡± He smiled again, this time a little more bitterly. ¡°I know the position you¡¯re in. If the Archmage thinks you can influence events, you should believe him.¡±


    Whether or not the minister was manipulating him to his own ends, Nic did trust him, and it was a great relief to know his mother would be taken care of.


    The skinny butler appeared to show Nic to the front door, and the minister returned to more important matters.


    There was a carriage waiting for him outside. It was early evening and still quite light. A sharp breeze nipped at him, but nothing very severe.


    ¡°It¡¯s alright, I¡¯ll walk,¡± he said to the driver holding the carriage door open. The driver shrugged and closed the door.


    The walk helped clear his mind and the breeze kept him moving at a brisk pace. He needed to do more exercise, he reminded himself. Perhaps that¡¯s how he could keep himself occupied over the next couple of weeks.


    The path he took to the main gate was one that took him through the flower beds. He tried to recall if anything seemed familiar, although the plants would have been changed many times since he¡¯d been a child and played here. A thick nest of blackberry brambles had grown here, he was almost sure.


    He was hit from the side and went down, rolling under the bushes lining the path. Everything was a jumble of green and brown, leaves and mud. He was face down and there was a weight pressing down on his back. The wind had been knocked out of him and he was dazed.


    His jacket was pulled, the weight lifted, he was rolled over onto his back, and the weight came back down hard. Dizzy was sitting on him.


    ¡°Why did my father want to speak to you?¡± she hissed.


    They were inside a cluster of shrubbery. Now this, this felt very familiar. A little room of green light in the middle of green walls. She was wearing the dress, although it was all bunched up around her, and she had his lapels in her fists.


    ¡°He just wanted to chat,¡± said Nic. She felt soft and warm. If he didn¡¯t do something quickly, he would embarrass himself horribly. He slowed his breathing and tried to empty his mind.


    ¡°My father doesn¡¯t invite the maid¡¯s son in with the Minister for War and the Chief of Staff of the Secret Service fora chat.¡±


    She was very angry. And something else... she was jealous. It was very important to her to have her father¡¯s respect and admiration. She had spent most of her life trying to prove her worth to him, and to herself. Nic had seen it first hand. And now she was being overlooked for the maid¡¯s boy. It must have been infuriating.


    ¡°It¡¯s not what you think. Random chance put me close to Simole. She¡¯s the one everyone wants to know more about, and I happen to have been the person nearest to her. That¡¯s all.¡±


    Dizzy was still glaring at him, but her grip on his clothes loosened. She remained on top of him, though. It was excruciatingly pleasant.


    ¡°What did they want to know?¡± Her voice was less strained now. An attempt to make it seem like there was some legitimate reason for her to assault him like this.


    ¡°Do you know how your father asks his questions? He puts a spell of compulsion on me so I reveal everything I know, no matter how trivial, or awkward or embarrassing. It¡¯s hard to remember what he asked or what I said. For which I should also probably be grateful.¡±


    The look on her face changed to shock, then something resembling shame. Or maybe pity. She climbed off him.


    He was lying, of course. Her father hadn¡¯t ensorcelled him, not this time at least. Under other circumstances, he would have been mortified to have embarrassed himself in front of her like this. The person he most wanted to impress seeing him as weak and helpless should have made him want to crawl away, but it didn¡¯t.


    Exposing himself deliberately made all the difference. He wanted her to see him as some drudge of her father¡¯s. Not a rival, just a menial worker. A maid¡¯s son.


    It was kind of funny. He had spent so many years in pursuit of this girl he had no right to, and now he was using everything he had learned to push her away. He had done his best to take care of his mother, and now he would do what he could to protect Dizzy while he was still able.


    The safest place for her was far away from him. Simole was a more capable person than him, and she had only survived by separating her spirit from her body, something he had no idea how to do.


    He had no illusions about his role in all this. It was his connection to Simole, to the demon, to Dizzy that had brought him to other people¡¯s notice. He was just the hitching post people tossed their reins over.


    ¡°Don¡¯t be stupid,¡± said Dizzy.


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°If my father only needed information from you, he¡¯d pickle your brain in a jar and extract whatever he wanted. There¡¯s more to this that you¡¯re holding back, and it¡¯s annoying me.¡±


    He could tell her he was trying to protect her, but she¡¯d probably punch him in the mouth.


    He sat up and arched his neck to look at the walls of leaves. ¡°How do I get out of here?¡±


    There was a rustle behind him and when he turned, she wasn¡¯t there anymore. He sighed. If he had hadn¡¯t scared her off with his attempt to portray himself as a worthless peon of her father¡¯s, he¡¯d probably managed it by playing the self-pitying wimp. In the end, he had accomplished his task.


    It took some thrashing about and ripped clothing to extricate himself from the bushes. He came stumbling out and landed in a muddy puddle. He walked home with wet knees.


    His mother¡¯s voice rose to a scream when she saw him. ¡°What happened?¡± she exclaimed, hands on cheeks.


    There were many ways he could have answered her question. He tripped, he fell, a passing coach splashed him. He chose something closer to the truth.


    ¡°Dizzy pushed me in the bushes as a joke.¡±


    His mother nodded, accepting this answer immediately, as Nic knew she would. It wouldn¡¯t be the first time it had happened.


    ¡°That girl.¡± The nodding changed to shaking her head from side to side. ¡°She never could resist pushing you down. Get those clothes off so I can wash them.¡±


    Another letter from Minister Delcroix arrived the next day, the one he had requested. He bought a ticket to the capital on the first available coach. The city was buzzing with activity. The holiday season wasn¡¯t just for students, many businesses were also closed. Although not the retail ones. This was their busiest time of year.


    Nic headed straight for the Librarium and asked to see the Head Librarian, Mr Gherry. He recognised Nic immediately and welcomed him with a smile. ¡°I¡¯m very happy to see you, Mr Tutt. Very happy. I hope you¡¯ve been well.¡±


    ¡°Yes, thank you.¡± Nic felt like this was someone he could have told all his problems to, but why burden someone else like that? He needed to take care of his own troubles. ¡°Thank you for all your help.¡± He handed over the letter.


    Mr Gheery read the contents with mild surprise. ¡°I see. This is very unusual. As to be expected, I suppose.¡± He smiled, as though this was another piece of some big puzzle he was putting together. ¡°This way.¡±


    He led Nic up some stairs and through various shelves until they reached a part of the library with no people in it and books so old it was impossible to read the titles on the spines.


    Mr Gherry opened an unassuming door that wasn¡¯t locked, waited for Nic to walk through and then closed it. They were in a very small antechamber with another door opposite them. Mr Gherry shuffled past and opened it, ushering Nic through.


    Nic stopped, stunned. He seemed to have entered an entirely different library. There were rows and rows of shelves stretching out ahead of him. The spines glittered with gold leaf, casting their glow on the walls.


    ¡°I know,¡± said Mr Gherry. ¡°It takes a little getting used to.¡±


    Nic happily spent the rest of the day there. The books were all originals. Not just first print editions, but often handwritten copies by the author. They covered every conceivable subject, and often included sections that should have been prohibited. He felt elated to have been allowed inside the Librarium¡¯s inner sanctum. There weren¡¯t many people who could say the same.


    Nic¡¯s only regret was that he had to go home at the end of each day. That, and the cost of coach tickets. When he had asked Minister Delcroix for money, he should have requested a small stipend for himself to cover travelling expenses.


    On his way back to the coach station, he took a detour into the heart of the city¡¯s shopping district. The street lamps were decorated with coloured glass to create a dazzling light show over the heads of shoppers as they bustled from one store to the next.


    He stopped outside Conoling & Son. He didn¡¯t think Davo would be here, but he was curious to have a look at the place he¡¯d heard so much about.


    It was extremely crowded inside. Nic had to hold in his breath and squeeze past people clumped around the tables stacked high with various goods. He recognised a mannequin dressed in the same tartan gear they had worn to climb Demon¡¯s Heart. It was even more expensive than he had imagined.


    ¡°Looking for a bargain?¡±


    Nic turned to find Davo standing behind him, hair slicked back, wearing an immaculate suit that made him look ten years older. Somehow, he had created a small island of space around the two of them.


    ¡°Oh, hello,¡± said Nic. ¡°I wasn¡¯t expecting to see you.¡±


    ¡°Come on, I¡¯ll show you around.¡±


    They spent the next hour wandering through the store, no mention of demons or mages. The store was on three floors, each stocked to bursting and continuously being replenished. Nic left with an armful of items from the Kitchen Department Davo had insisted he take home to his mother, and a feeling that there was a world outside of books and libraries he had hardly even been aware of.


    He got home quite late, but his mother¡¯s concern was rapidly displaced by interest in the shopping bags he came with.


    ¡°What¡¯s this?¡± she asked, holding up an oddly twisted piece of metal.


    ¡°I think it¡¯s for peeling potatoes.¡±


    ¡°Why not just use a knife?¡±


    Nic shrugged.


    After several days of commuting back and forth to the Librarium, he still hadn¡¯t found any Winnum Roke-related materials, although he had no complaints about the journey to this lack of discovery. He was at his most content when he was alone with a ready supply of books. Still, it was disheartening to have come across nothing to help him understand demons any better.


    There was one other place where he might find the answers he sought, and that was the library in the Royal College itself. He doubted if even the Minister of Instruction could secure access to that place for him.


    It was too soon to push for that, though¡ªhe had barely investigated a fraction of the Librarium¡¯s special inventory. The manuscript he was looking for could be sitting on a shelf just waiting to be picked up.


    The weeks flew by and he was soon preparing to return to Ransom. Even though the future held a certain amount of dread for him, he realised he was looking forward to going back to attending classes. And there was also his exam results, which he had all but forgotten.


    He packed everything back up and went to bed, needing to rise early the next day. His sleep had been untroubled and uninterrupted since he came home, helped in no small part from being exhausted by his constant travelling. He closed his eyes and slowly drifted to sleep.


    ¡°She is coming,¡± said a voice.


    He sat up in the darkened room, his body coated in sweat.

 Chapter Thirty One

    Nic was not a morning person. He had always struggled to get up early, even though it would have provided him with extra time to get things done. Working late at night was a more suitable approach for his temperament. Morning was a time when his mind felt foggy, and it usually took him until he was out in the fresh air, walking to school, before the fog lifted.


    There was nothing wrong with preferring late nights to early mornings. The end result was the same as far as it related to his ability to study, but it did reduce his options. Sometimes, it would have been more convenient to be able to adjust his timetable. Nic never had that option.


    So, it came as a mild surprise that he was now able to sit at his desk and pore over his notes with total clarity as the sun rose over the rooftops populating his bedroom window. The days would be getting longer now.


    He hadn¡¯t been able to sleep very well. The voice he¡¯d heard informing himshewas coming had left him rattled. He was uncertain if it had been the demon making an announcement, or his subconscious expressing its anxiety.


    The words had sounded very real. They filled the dark room as he lay on his bed. But once they faded, it was hard to be sure.


    He tried to contact the demon again without success. He stilled his thoughts and reached out with his mind. There was nothing to reach out to. Why warn him if there was no purpose to it? Just to unsettle him?


    Lying on a bed, staring at the ceiling in the dark was not as restorative sleep. It would not give him the same benefits. His body might not be exerting effort, but it wasn¡¯t gaining anything either. It seemed a waste.


    He had risen, gone to his desk, and taken out all the notes he¡¯d made over the last couple of weeks visiting the Librarium. He¡¯d failed to find any new material written by Winnum Roke, but he had expanded his knowledge of demons by a significant amount. He wasn¡¯t an expert, by any means, but he had read the words of those who were. He just had to understand them.


    He didn¡¯t feel tired. His mental acuity hadn¡¯t suffered from being unable to rest. The reminder that he didn¡¯t have much time spurred him from his bed and set him to work, and now the glow on the horizon was filling up his room. He still had a lot to do. Possibly, too much. Perhaps he still wasn¡¯t a morning person. Perhaps it was just very, very late in the day.


    He had to leave for Ransom soon. He had already packed and his trunk was downstairs. Mr Gram would drive him to the coach station and a new term would begin. His exams results felt pitifully unimportant. His studying had taken an altogether different purpose.


    There was a jangle of harness, the grinding of earth under cartwheels, the clang of metal containers jostling on a cart bed. He peered out of the window as the milk cart trundled down the lane. The noise of it was familiar, and something he once considered his greatest peeve. It used to rouse him each morning well before he was ready to be roused, and began the slow process of him forcing himself to leave his warm and loving bed.


    He couldn¡¯t remember ever having actually seen the monster behind the disheartening sounds. It was a big farm horse with a thick, shaggy mane and fetlocks to match. It pulled a cart that seemed to have wheels of different size, making the cart rise and fall, although that was probably more likely the unevenness of the road. The driver was a woman, dressed in a thick coat that covered her from neck to shin. She was a stout lady with arms like tree trunks, although the voluminous coat sleeves might have added to the effect.


    Behind her, there were six giant urns squeezed onto the back of the cart, bumping into each other.


    Nic had been studying his notes for several hours. He had taken breaks and used the time to wash, to get dressed, and now he decided he could use some fresh air. He went downstairs to the kitchen and picked up the pail on the counter. His mother stared at him like she¡¯d seen a ghost.


    ¡°You¡¯re up very early,¡± she said. Her face showed signs of concern which she was doing her best to hide.


    Nic realised he¡¯d made a mistake. He never woke this early, and to do so today, when he was to go back to Ransom, implied he was eager to leave. To get away from her.


    ¡°I thought we could have a proper breakfast together before you have to go to work.¡±


    She smiled, a little relief lifting her spirits. ¡°Make sure you get enough milk for two.¡±


    He went outside and handed over the pail to the milkmaid. She filled it from a tap at the bottom of one of the urns, grabbing onto the side and tilting it even though it must have been extremely heavy. The coat sleeves hadn¡¯t been deceptive in the least.


    He went back inside and had breakfast with his mother. He had plenty of work he could be doing, but this seemed more important right now.


    Despite his willingness to see the words that had woken him as something unclear and open to interpretation, he knew it had been the demon letting him know how little time he had left. How much didn¡¯t matter. It wasn¡¯t warning him, it was doing it to amuse itself.


    Demons saw humans as fragile and unstable. They found it entertaining. It made them feel superior. The books he¡¯d found on demons tended to concentrate on trying to understand them. How they operated, how they communicated, how they drew power to devastating effect. Nic felt most of the authors he read were looking in the wrong place. What Nic had started to see was not a better understanding of demons, but a realisation of how poorly demons understood humans.


    He¡¯d seen it in text after text. Not in what the mages and warriors of Ranvar had accomplished, but in what the demons had failed to do. Their view of what frailty meant was incorrect, in his opinion. They couldn¡¯t grasp that even though a craftsman working with inferior materials might never produce anything of value, if he did, it would only be possible by developing skills far superior to those of someone gifted with the ideal training and tools.


    ¡°They¡¯ll have your exam results when you get back, won¡¯t they?¡± asked his mother.


    ¡°Yes. They¡¯re only mocks, though. They don¡¯t mean anything.¡±


    His mother raised an eyebrow but continued eating. It was rare for them to sit at the kitchen table together like this. ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll do well.¡±


    He probably would. It really didn¡¯t mean anything, though.


    ¡°Mr Gram¡¯s going to take me to the station,¡± he said, even though his mother already knew. She was the one who¡¯d arranged it. ¡°He¡¯s a good person. I mean, I like him.¡±


    It came out more awkwardly than he¡¯d intended. He hadn¡¯t sensed anything different between his mother and their neighbour, but he wanted her to know he approved, in case something did happen and he wasn¡¯t around.


    His mother gave him a curious look. ¡°Well, make sure you thank him properly.¡±


    There was more noise outside, more jangling and clopping of hooves. Too noisy to be Mr Gram¡¯s small cart. Nic got up and went to the window. There was a large carriage outside their garden gate, filling up the entire road.


    Nic went outside, followed by his mother. He recognised the driver, it was the same one who had picked him up to take him to the Delcroix house. The carriage was different, though. Bigger and more impressive, with a spotless, polished finish. And black as a starless sky.


    The driver jumped down and opened the carriage door. Minister Delcroix stepped onto the running board and skipped down before the driver could pull out the steps.


    ¡°Ah, good morning, Milly,¡± he said to Nic¡¯s mother, removing his hat.


    ¡°Good morning, sir,¡± she replied, a little flustered.


    ¡°Niclov.¡± He nodded at Nic.


    ¡°Sir.¡± Nic had no idea why the minister was paying him a visit, but it probably wasn¡¯t anything bad. He seemed too relaxed. ¡°Nice to see you again.¡± He hadn¡¯t seen him since his visit to the house, so perhaps he had a message for him before he went back to school. Maybe he just wanted him to wish him a pleasant journey.


    ¡°Yes, yes. The reason I¡¯m calling is that I¡¯m on my way to the city and I happen to pass the school, by which I mean Ransom, of course, and thought I might offer you a lift.¡±


    The minister seemed more sprightly that the last time Nic had seen him. His eyes were clear and his disposition almost jocular. Perhaps there had been good news.


    ¡°Thank you very much,¡± said Nic mother. ¡°That¡¯s very kind of you, sir.¡±


    She¡¯d taken it on herself to accept the invitation on Nic¡¯s behalf. For her, this was an excellent opportunity to further Nic¡¯s chances at a government position. If she could thrust him a few rungs higher on the clerical ladder, she would do so with both hands.


    ¡°Yes, thank you very much. But, Mr Gram¡­¡± Nic pointed over the garden fence separating the two properties.


    ¡°Never mind about that. I¡¯ll take care of everything. You get your trunk and stop delaying the Minister.¡± She shooed Nic into the house and kept up a stream of polite babbling about her duties until he returned with his luggage.


    The driver placed the trunk on the roof next to one already up there. The minister held the door open and Nic was halfway up the steps, his head just above the carriage floor, when he saw the other occupant.


    Dizzy was sitting in the far corner, glaring at him.


    Nic paused and turned to the minister. ¡°Ah, maybe I should sit with the driver.¡±


    ¡°What? Nonsense, you¡¯ll freeze your ears off. Hurry up now, I don¡¯t want to be late. The Ministry of Instruction has some very fierce penalties for tardiness.¡±


    Nic doubted the minister would be chastised for being late, but he climbed in and settled into the corner furthest from Dizzy.


    The minister followed, pulling the door behind him as the driver clattered the folding steps. His mother waved him off, beaming with pride. He waved back, discreetly. When they were on their way, he dared a peek at Dizzy. She was resolutely staring out of the window on the other side, emitting a strange atmosphere that was hard to place. If he had to name it, he might call it killing intent.


    Nic sat quietly. If he¡¯d known the minister was also dropping off his daughter at Ransom, he might not have agreed so readily. No, there was no way he could have refused the invitation, but he might have been better prepared. No, he¡¯d still feel utterly thrown by being this close to her.


    The minister had papers out and read them through eyeglasses perched on his nose. The shaking carriage would have made it impossible for Nic to read anything while they barrelled out of town and onto the highway. On closer inspection, the minister seemed to be doing some shaking of his own. A slight trembling in his hands.


    ¡°You¡¯ll be told the results of the mock exams when you get back,¡± said the minister over the top of his papers. He spoke directly at Nic.


    Nic glanced at Dizzy watching the trees flash by. ¡°Yes, sir.¡±


    ¡°I wonder if you¡¯ll do as well as you did with the last test you sat. Second place nationally should translate to second place at Ransom. At least.¡± He looked over at his daughter who had come first nationally. She didn¡¯t react, other than to stare out of the window more intently.


    ¡°I doubt I¡¯ll do as well,¡± said Nic. ¡°I had some distractions.¡±


    ¡°Yes. Of course.¡±


    Nic looked out of the window on his side. ¡°I¡¯m not really sure learning such a broad spectrum of things is the best way to achieve anything.¡±


    ¡°You could be right,¡± said Minister Delcroix. ¡°Specialising has always yielded better results, once you have a solid foundation.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know if that¡¯s important, either,¡± said Nic. ¡°Some problems require extreme solutions. Short term ones.¡±


    The minister lowered his papers into his lap. ¡°Nic, it never hurts to know more. Even if it doesn¡¯t help you, it can help others. The great advantage of a cooperative society like ours is the ability to combine small advances into big ones.¡±


    ¡°The demons don¡¯t think like that. They place no value in individual achievements. Everything is already as advanced as it can be, they just distribute it to the best available exponent.¡±


    There was a silence in the carriage that pulled Nic out of his musings. He looked at the minister who was staring at him.


    ¡°Sorry, I¡¯ve been doing a lot of reading on the subject.¡±


    ¡°Clearly. And what conclusions have you drawn?¡±


    ¡°They have a weakness. They underestimate us. How to use that against them, I¡¯m not sure. Mr Tenner said they gave us Arcanum, but I think he misunderstood. They are Arcanum. It¡¯s their blood.¡­¡± Nic¡¯s voice faded. ¡°Mr Tenner probably knew more about it than me, though.¡±


    ¡°Mr Tenner was an obsessed man. They understand very little. Too much specialisation isn¡¯t a good thing either. Hopefully his replacement will be a more well-rounded teacher.¡±


    ¡°Master Denkne?¡± asked Nic.


    ¡°Ah, of course, you¡¯ve already met. Yes, Denkne, Master of the Royal College. You¡¯re quite lucky to have someone of his caliber teaching at Ransom. You can torment him with questions to your heart¡¯s delight.¡±Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.


    ¡°Yes. He seems very¡­ different.¡±


    ¡°You mean the white hair? Part of his Grissenheim heritage. His father was an officer of the embassy. Met a local woman¡ªactually a countess¡ªand whisked her off back to the homeland, never to be heard from again.¡± The minister took off his glasses. ¡°No doubt because she was busy being blissfully happy. And then several years later the product of their union applied to the Royal College.¡±


    ¡°They don¡¯t usually accept foreigners, do they?¡±


    ¡°No, but his dual nationality gave him the right to apply, and his obvious talent awarded him a place. It¡¯s always been a Ranvar tradition to not let prejudice get in the way of common sense. A tradition that isn¡¯t always upheld, as I¡¯m sure you¡¯re aware. He¡¯s a good man. You can trust him.¡±


    Nic nodded, acknowledging both the sentiment and also the instruction.


    He turned his head, remembering they weren¡¯t alone in the cab. Dizzy had her eyes fixed on him, her lips pinched together. It was so familiar it made him smile. Which was a mistake.


    ¡°Why are you smiling?¡± she asked him. Her voice was cold and unnervingly emotionless.


    ¡°I¡¯m not,¡± said Nic, quickly pulling his mouth straight.


    ¡°You were. I saw you. What¡¯s so funny?¡±


    ¡°I¡­ You just reminded me of something when we were children. You used to make the same face just before¡­¡± He was looking for a way to undo the tension. He couldn¡¯t seem to find it.


    ¡°Before what?¡±


    ¡°Before, um, you would try to bite me.¡± There was always the truth. It was funny. It would ease everyone¡¯s mood.


    Her eyes seemed to flash red. He recognised that look, too. His feet would have started running if there was anywhere to run to.


    ¡°Delzina,¡± said her father in an admonishing tone. ¡°Did you really bite the poor boy.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°He always ran away.¡±


    ¡°Well, please don¡¯t do that sort of thing in the future. It¡¯s very unbecoming for a young lady to bite someone who¡¯s a guest in her home.¡± He seemed mildly amused, but Dizzy certainly wasn¡¯t.


    ¡°Yes, Father. I¡¯ll try to remember.¡± She continued to stare at Nic. ¡°Please don¡¯t let me interrupt. It sounded like the two of you were having a fascinating conversation.¡±


    ¡°Do you think so?¡± the minister asked her, his tone very blase.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever heard you so chatty,¡± said Dizzy.


    ¡°It¡¯s a long ride,¡± said the minister. ¡°It can be quite interesting talking about hypotheticals. It passes the time.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°Hypotheticals.¡±


    Nic didn¡¯t speak for the rest of the journey, and the Minister went back to his papers. Dizzy stared out of the window, fuming. There was nothing to be done about that, other than to keep his extremities out of reach.


    They arrived at the school a short while later. There was a mad rush around the entrance as carriages came and went, dropping off their contents.


    Nic exited first, eager to not be in anyone¡¯s way. By the time he¡¯d looked around at the school buildings and turned back, Dizzy was already stalking away towards her dormitory. The driver placed the trunks on the ground for the porters to take away.


    ¡°Well, good luck, Nic,¡± said the minister. ¡°I meant what I said about Denkne. You can rely on him. He¡¯s been fully vetted by my department.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Nic. ¡°The Archmage seemed to have a lot of faith in him.¡±


    ¡°Indeed. Remember, you will be watched at all times. Not just by my people. There are many interested parties at this point. Be careful what you say to the people here. These things tend to be a lot of nothing for a long time. It¡¯s easy to get complacent.¡±


    Nic nodded. ¡°Yes, sir.¡± He considered telling him about the voice he¡¯d heard, but there didn¡¯t seem any point.Shewas known to be coming before. She still was. It wasn¡¯t like he¡¯d been given a time of arrival. He noticed the slight trembling in the minister¡¯s fingers. And then the blue glimmer around the edges of his pupils. ¡°You have Arcanum poisoning.¡±


    The minister was a little startled, but quickly masked it. ¡°You are an observant boy, but perhaps a little too eager to share your findings.¡±


    ¡°Even with someone I trust?¡±


    ¡°You never know when your trust is misplaced. I¡¯d appreciate it if you didn¡¯t mention this to anyone.¡± His gaze drifted towards his rapidly departing daughter.


    ¡°She doesn¡¯t know?¡±


    ¡°No. It¡¯s not as though it¡¯s fatal. There are plenty of cures, I just don¡¯t have the time, right now.¡±


    As far as Nic was aware, there were very few cures, all of which had mixed results. But he was in no position to question someone who knew about confidential procedures not available to the public.


    ¡°Take care, Nic, and feel free to drop my name if the Headmaster gives you any problems.¡±


    Nic was sure the Headmaster would leave him alone, but he thanked the minister anyway.


    He made his way to the cottage, occasionally looking around to see if he could spot anyone keeping an eye on him. The Secret Service agents were good at keeping out of sight¡ªperhaps too good¡ªbut the minister had indicated it would be his own people that would be watching. He saw no one.


    As he approached the cottage, he saw Davo and Fanny outside. It looked like they were arguing, or at least having a vigorous discussion. They stopped when they saw him and quickly moved towards him.


    ¡°There¡¯s been a development,¡± said Davo.


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Fanny. ¡°A development.¡±


    ¡°Okay,¡± said Nic. ¡°Is it a bad development?¡±


    The two anxious boys exchanged a look.


    ¡°You should see for yourself,¡± said Davo. He headed back towards the cottage.


    Nic followed, a little bemused. It was only their first day back. He hadn¡¯t expected any drama this soon.


    He entered the cottage behind Davo. Everything appeared to be the same as they¡¯d left it. Except for one addition.


    ¡°Welcome back,¡± said Brillard Epsteem.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± said Nic. He looked at the others. He still wasn¡¯t sure what the development was. Had Brill come for answers?


    ¡°It¡¯s been a while since I had roommates,¡± said Brill. ¡°Let me know if there any rules I need to follow.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re moving in?¡± asked Nic. ¡°Here?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right. Convinced my father it was time I left the nest.¡± He leaned forward. ¡°I also told him I¡¯d keep an eye on you three. He¡¯s very suspicious about what you get up to, out here on your own.¡± Brill smiled and rocked back on his heels. ¡°I¡¯ll be taking this room.¡± He pointed at Simole¡¯s room.


    ¡°Oh,¡± said Nic. ¡°She might not like that.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what we told him,¡± said Davo.


    ¡°It¡¯s not our fault if she gets mad.¡±


    ¡°But she isn¡¯t here,¡± said Brill, a little confused.


    ¡°I know,¡± said Nic. ¡°It¡¯s complicated. There¡¯s a good chance she¡¯ll be coming back. A chance.¡±


    Brill looked at the three of them, sizing them up. ¡°I see. I want you to understand this from my perspective.¡± He touched his chest with the extended fingers of one hand. ¡°You asked me not to mention what happened at the camp, and I haven¡¯t. But this¡ª¡± he put out his hand and moved it around in a circle ¡°¡ªthis is where something is happening, something momentous. I can tell. I intend to be a part of it. To at least be a witness. I won¡¯t get in your way. I will ask you nothing, you need to divulge nothing, explain nothing. But perhaps you¡¯ll need my help. I will be here, ready. The girl can have her room back if she returns.¡±


    He nodded once and went into Simole¡¯s room.


    ¡°I wonder what he¡¯s up to,¡± said Davo.


    ¡°Maybe nothing,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°Definitely something,¡± said Fanny. ¡°I hope he doesn¡¯t end up getting hurt.¡±


    ¡°I hope I don¡¯t end up getting hurt,¡± said Davo.


    ¡°I hope so, too,¡± said Fanny. ¡°Any of us.¡±


    Davo and Fanny shook hands and retired to their respective rooms. Nic wondered if his friends were as odd as they seemed, or if it was just that he¡¯d never had many friends and this was normal.


    Brill kept to his word. He didn¡¯t bring up any sensitive matters. His conversations were about school and work and, occasionally, his father, the headmaster. It wasn¡¯t the safest place to be, but then, it was his choice and they weren¡¯t in any immediate danger, as far as Nic was aware.


    Classes began the following morning. Nic had a restless night. There were no voices, he just felt apprehensive about the future. Ill-equipped and ill-prepared was how he saw himself. The demon attached to him probably considered him a perfect representation of his kind. Perhaps it would give the mages an edge in the battle to come.


    Before they began class, everyone gathered in the main foyer as the exam results were pinned up. Each subject had a separate sheet, and there was an overall standing, with Dizzy at the top, which wasn¡¯t very surprising.


    Somewhat more surprising was Nic¡¯s name. It was completely absent, from all subjects. As were Davo¡¯s and Fanny¡¯s.


    ¡°Do you think we¡¯re going to be expelled?¡± asked Fanny as they stood there, scouring the boards for their names.


    ¡°It¡¯s ridiculous,¡± said Davo. ¡°They could at least tell us to our faces.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure they will,¡± said Nic. He doubted it was going to be a straight expulsion, not with the Archmage and the Minister of Instruction both insisting Nic be a student here. But it seemed the Headmaster was going to make life as difficult as possible. ¡°There¡¯s no point trying to second guess what this is about.¡±


    They went to their first lesson of the day. It was with the new teacher from the Royal College. The room was full of excited chatter about it.


    Master Denkne came striding in, making quite an entrance with his grey cloak flapping about. He removed it immediately, hanging it over the back of his chair, and paced up and down the front of the classroom.


    He seemed taller than Nic remembered him. And more elegant. His pallor was that of someone who rarely went outside, but that could have been part of his heritage like the white hair pulled back into a ponytail and his almond-shaped eyes that gave his whole face an exotic look.


    ¡°Settle down. I¡¯m Mr Denkne, your new teacher. I¡¯ll be substituting for Mr Tenner this term. We¡¯ll be following the same syllabus, more or less, so you shouldn¡¯t have any trouble keeping up.¡±


    He went through the topics they¡¯d be covering. He spoke quickly and confidently, like any teacher who¡¯d been working at Ransom for years.


    ¡°Alright. Any questions before we start?¡±


    A hand went up. ¡°Is it true you¡¯re a master at the Royal College?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right. I¡¯ve been a master for, let me think, five years now.¡±


    ¡°Why are you here?¡± asked another voice.


    ¡°Penance,¡± said Denkne. ¡°I¡¯ve made some terrible life choices and they¡¯ve landed me in this establishment. I suggest you take advantage of my misfortune. I take it there are some of you who wish to attend the Royal College. Let me see a show of hands. Who here has aspirations to become a mage?¡±


    Hands slowly rose around the classroom. Fanny hesitantly raised his. Nic and Davo kept theirs down.


    ¡°Interesting,¡± said Denkne as he scanned the forest of arms. ¡°I notice that some of you were more eager to stake your claim than others. While some were irritated to be asked to declare at all.¡± He said this standing next to Dizzy, who had her elbow on her desk and her hand raised the minimum amount possible.


    ¡°And then there are those who showed not even an iota of interest.¡± He had wandered over to Nic¡¯s desk. ¡°What about you? Not capable or not confident?¡±


    The class had all turned to look at him. He didn¡¯t know why the mage had decided to target him in this manner, but he didn¡¯t appreciate it.


    ¡°No talent, sir.¡±


    ¡°And when has that stopped anyone? Do you know what it takes to be a mage? The fundamental principles?¡±


    These were matters that were kept very confidential and guarded jealously by the Royal College of the Arts. Even Nic, who had read a great many books about the college, its founding and function, had only ever seen vague references to such things.


    ¡°No, sir.¡±


    ¡°It is not what you have that counts¡ªtalent, ability, knowledge¡­ these things are easily obtained. It is a matter of what you can discard.¡±


    The students were all rapt with attention.


    ¡°At your age, you are too young to receive the training required. You have experienced too little. Your appetites are too small. You are still building up your library of gratifications. Your belly is empty; you fill it with bread. You experience more variety, you become selective. You have your favourites. You gain taste, refinement, expertise.¡±


    He paused to let his words circulate. Nic had no idea where this was leading, or why he was telling them these things.


    ¡°For most people, this is enough. But there is another level. A resetting of the tastebuds, of the psyche. A cleansing of the palette that is your mind. It is extremely difficult, and painful. Extremely. You not only release your need to differentiate between preferences, you abandon the need for sustenance altogether.


    ¡°How then can you sustain the functions of the body? This is the power of Arcanum. It replenishes the stores in our bodies, it supplies power to the cells in our organs while bypassing the glottal and olfactory apparatus. With only moisture drawn from the air and the fumes extracted from burning organic items, it is possible to live and to grow, if you have the correct belief system in place.¡±


    He turned to Nic again. ¡°Now, Mr Tutt, what talent do you need to achieve that? Other than the talent to survive?¡±


    Nic had no idea how he was supposed to respond. Everything Mr Denkne had said made little sense to him. Fasting was the key to becoming a mage?


    There was a polite knock on the open classroom door. A boy was standing there holding a folded piece of paper. Denkne took it from him.


    ¡°Tutt, Conoling, Bostware. You are to report to the Headmaster¡¯s office.¡±


    The three of them rose and left the room. They had been expecting a summons of some kind. As they walked past Mr Denkne, Nic gave him a confused look. Denkne winked at him. Nic felt no less confused.


    They had to wait in the outer office for twenty minutes before they were called in. The Headmaster was seated behind his desk. The three boys stood in front of him, too resigned to their fate to be rattled.


    ¡°I imagine you¡¯re wondering why I¡¯ve called you here.¡±


    ¡°To expel us?¡± said Nic.


    ¡°That was my guess, too,¡± said Davo.


    ¡°Mine as well,¡± said Fanny.


    ¡°And for what reason would I expel you?¡± asked the Headmaster.


    ¡°No reason,¡± said Nic.


    The Head rose from his seat, irritated. He was a tall man and towered over them, even Davo. ¡°As it happens, there is a reason. You may have noticed none of your exam results were posted with the others. Do you know why that is?¡±


    ¡°No reason?¡± said Davo. Fanny stifled a laugh.


    ¡°A very good reason. All three of your papers for Military Historic Analysis were virtually identical. How do you explain that?¡±


    ¡°That isn¡¯t possible,¡± said Nic. ¡°Conoling has a tendency to favour trade over conflict. He strongly believes selling an enemy a product they think they need is the key to any military victory. It¡¯s the subtext of every answer he¡¯s ever written.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± blurted out Davo. ¡°Is that true?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s in your punctuation. You can¡¯t help it.¡±


    Fanny sniggered. ¡°He¡¯s right.¡±


    ¡°And Bostware always emphasises defence over attack. He thinks not getting hurt is the better tactic over a costly victory.¡±


    ¡°No, I don¡¯t,¡± said Fanny.


    Nic ignored the protests. ¡°It will be very obvious if you take a closer look.¡±


    The Headmaster¡¯s face had turned a fiery red. ¡°You think you¡¯re very smart, don¡¯t you, Mr Tutt. Well, the burden of proof is on you. I haven¡¯t made a decision either way, but the school governors will be presented with the facts and will make the final adjudication. In the school¡¯s history, the board has never not sided with the Headmaster¡¯s recommendation. I realise you know some influential people, but this is not my call. The governors¡¯ decision is final.¡±


    ¡°How are we supposed to prove something thatdidn¡¯thappen?¡± asked a flabbergasted Davo.


    Nic raised his hand to calm Davo down. He didn¡¯t really care about the Headmaster¡¯s vendetta. It wasn¡¯t surprising they had given similar answers, but he could prove they didn¡¯t cheat on a forensic level, if he had the time. He turned around and faced the back of the room.


    ¡°Is there an agent in here? Someone watching?¡± He paused as if expecting a response. Nothing happened. ¡°My next step will be to contact the Minister of Instruction. Your Chief of Staff won¡¯t be very impressed if you allow that.¡±


    There was a shimmer and a white-masked agent appeared in the corner of the room. The Headmaster¡¯s jaw clenched to the point grinding could be heard.


    ¡°Last term, during the exams, were your men in the school hall, observing me?¡±


    The agent nodded his head.


    ¡°Did anyone report cheating, me or my friends here?¡±


    The agent shook his head from side to side.


    ¡°Please make a request for a copy of the file to be made available to the school¡¯s governing board. I don¡¯t have any authority to ask, but I think the Chief of Staff will agree.¡±


    ¡°We can do that,¡± said the agent. ¡°It¡¯s been approved we grant any minor requests you make.¡±


    Nic turned back to the headmaster. ¡°The proof you required.¡± He wasn¡¯t nervous, and neither was he upset. He understood the headmaster¡¯s need to take advantage of a situation he felt would work in his favour. It was just silly considering the true threat they all faced.


    ¡°Where did we place?¡± asked Nic. ¡°Overall.¡±


    The Headmaster slowly sat down. ¡°First, third and fourth.¡±


    ¡°I was third?¡± asked Davo.


    ¡°Fourth,¡± said the Head.


    ¡°Damn it.¡±


    ¡°You just don¡¯t understand,¡± said the Head bitterly. ¡°You¡¯re unsettling the whole school.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± said Nic. It was a needless disruption considering the likelihood of him not even completing his time here. ¡°Would you post our results in the bottom of the top ten?¡±


    The Headmaster looked up surprised. ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯ll attract too much attention and our time here has had enough interruptions, which is my fault, I know. I think it would benefit everyone if life went back to normal, as much as that¡¯s possible.¡±


    The Head narrowed his eyes. ¡°That¡¯s very noble of you. And if people were to discover this misrepresentation?¡±


    ¡°They will,¡± said Nic. ¡°It¡¯s unavoidable. And when they do, the Secret Service records will show it was a compassionate decision made by you at our request to prevent bullying.¡±


    The Headmaster, after some consideration, agreed. Nic wasn¡¯t surprised. It prevented more questions about the falling standards at Ranvar¡¯s premier school, and at the same time showed a close adherence to Ranvar¡¯s principles of putting the common good before social standing.


    They returned to class. No one said anything as they took their seats. Nic looked at the back of Dizzy¡¯s head and smiled. Caught you, he thought.

 Chapter Thirty Two

    <u></u>¡°Because all wars are about money,¡± said Davo.


    ¡°Some wars, certainly,¡± said Brill.


    ¡°No,¡± said Davo. ¡°All.¡±


    Nic stared into the fire, unable to find the energy to make his way to his chilly bedroom. Winter was making the most of its time in Ranvar, visiting every corner. ¡°It depends on your perspective,¡± he said.


    ¡°And your punctuation,¡± added Fanny with a smirk.


    The four of them were sitting around the fireplace in the cottage. Brill had moved in along with a cartload of new furniture, transforming Simole¡¯s rather bare room into something almost as grand as Davo¡¯s. Almost.


    He had made himself at home and, as promised, didn¡¯t press them for answers. He had seen them return to the camp on the back of the Father of Dragons, so there had to be numerous questions he wanted to ask, but he showed great restraint.


    However, he had allowed his curiosity to get the better of him about why they had been summoned to see the Headmaster. To be fair, he did have a personal interest in the matter as the Headmaster was his father.


    Nic had given him a brief outline of the issue, sticking to the facts, although not in a comprehensive manner. He didn¡¯t say anything about the role the Secret Service had played, or that there were probably agents watching them right now. The subtle differences in the work assumed to be plagiarised was both his explanation for why they had been incorrectly deemed to be cheating, and also for how he had proved their innocence.


    Brill neither defended nor criticised his father¡¯s actions, but he did have some questions about Davo¡¯s perceived bias towards the fiscal nature of war.


    ¡°What about land acquisition?¡±


    ¡°Money,¡± said Davo. ¡°I¡¯m surprised you even need to ask.¡±


    Brill took a breath and thought it over while the others soaked up the fire¡¯s warm glow.


    ¡°It¡¯s going to be freezing tonight,¡± said Fanny.


    Davo sat up and leaned forward. ¡°Before I left home, my father informed me of a brilliant new invention. They¡¯re called blankets. Very advanced. He hopes to have them in stock, once they perfect the design, obviously. Perhaps you¡¯d like me to order you one?¡±


    ¡°Thank you, I¡¯m aware of the technology of which you speak. The problem are my toes which stick out of the bottom.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps you¡¯d like to be swaddled like a baby,¡± said Davo with maximum sneering.


    Fanny sat up to make some kind of rejoinder, but thought better of it and sank back down. ¡°Yes, actually, I would.¡±


    ¡°Put some socks on,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°Doesn¡¯t feel right,¡± mumbled Fanny.


    ¡°How did a dolt like you place higher than someone like me,¡± said Davo bitterly. It wasn¡¯t the first time that evening he had expressed his consternation. ¡°I¡¯ve a good mind to demand a recount.¡±


    ¡°Pride, vengeance, religion,¡± said Brill with three fingers raised one by one.


    ¡°Money, money, money,¡± replied Davo. ¡°You can put a cash value on all those things.¡±


    ¡°Yes, but come on,¡± said Brill. ¡°If you think like that, everything has a monetary value.¡±


    ¡°Exactly. I¡¯m glad you see my point.¡±


    ¡°No, I don¡¯t see your point,¡± insisted Brill. ¡°Not at all. Men go to war for reasons beyond making money. Look at the question we had in the Military History paper. Duke Verman didn¡¯t go to war with Nymmeria for financial reasons.¡±


    The other three turned to look at him.


    ¡°Alright, he did benefit financially, but that wasn¡¯t the reason the war started.¡±


    ¡°What was the reason, then?¡± asked Davo.


    ¡°The assassination of Chancellor Jonkey.¡±


    ¡°So Verman killed his own chancellor,¡± said Davo, ¡°and then declared war on a city state a thousand leagues away. Why?¡±


    ¡°Are you testing me, Davo?¡±


    ¡°Think of it as revising. If you¡¯re going to be living here, you might as well get comfortable with our methods.¡±


    Brill nodded, willingly accepting the proposition. ¡°Duke Verman went to war with Nymmeria because Chancellor Jonkey was the brother of Nymmeria¡¯s head of state.¡±


    ¡°Keeper Jonkey,¡± said Fanny. ¡°The clue¡¯s in the name.¡± He grinned to himself.


    Thank you, Mr Bostware,¡± said Brill tartly, misunderstanding Fanny¡¯s point.


    ¡°But Nymmeria didn¡¯t declare war,¡± said Davo. ¡°The Duke did.¡±


    ¡°He knew Keeper Jonkey would want revenge¡ªnot money¡ªfor his brother¡¯s death, and decided to attack first.¡±


    ¡°And why did the Duke kill his own chancellor?¡± asked Davo.


    ¡°He was having an affair with the Duke¡¯s wife,¡± said Brill without hesitation.


    ¡°No,¡± said Davo.


    ¡°No?¡± said Brill. ¡°What do you mean, no?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± confirmed Nic.


    ¡°Nope,¡± added Fanny.


    ¡°It¡¯s a matter of public record,¡± said Brill, a little less sure of himself.


    ¡°He can¡¯t have had an affair with the Duchess,¡± said Davo. ¡°He was impotent.¡±


    ¡°Since when?¡± said Brill, losing his composure. ¡°How can you possibly know that?¡±


    ¡°Since he was a boy. He had an accident with a horse.¡±


    ¡°A pony,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°Yes, sorry. A pony. A horseshoe, in any case. Kicked him in rather an unfortunate place, completely confused his plumbing. They called him Wonky Jonkey. A childhood friend of his grew up to be a traveller. Wrote many memoirs and detailed much of his childhood memories. Wonkey Jonkey had his own chapter.¡±


    Fanny started giggling. ¡°Wonky Jonkey.¡±


    ¡°And where is this memoir? What¡¯s it called?¡± asked Brill.


    ¡°The Journey of a Nymmerian Sailor,¡± said Davo. ¡°Third volume. Of twelve, I believe.¡±


    ¡°By Negril Arrankey, the White Pirate of the Nymmerian Gulf,¡± said Fanny. ¡°I think he may have made up his own title. Nobody else has ever mentioned the White Pirate.¡±


    Brill¡¯s head was jerking about as answers flew at him from all directions. ¡°I¡¯ve never heard of him or the book,¡± he said.


    ¡°The only copy I¡¯ve seen is in the Librarium,¡± said Nic. ¡°You have to ask for it.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve read it?¡± Brill asked Nic.


    ¡°He has a thing for memoirs,¡± said Davo. ¡°If you ever write one yourself, you¡¯ll be guaranteed at least one reader.¡±


    ¡°But if it¡¯s known he was¡­ indisposed that way, why are we taught otherwise?¡±


    ¡°The family was embarrassed,¡± said Nic. ¡°They were powerful, and rich. They had it expunged from the records, everything relating to it destroyed. Almost everything. They preferred him to be accused of infidelity and of being a philanderer. Sounds more¡­ manly, I suppose.¡±


    Brill sat back, sinking into the large armchair, courtesy of Conoling & Son.


    ¡°When he was old enough, he moved to a new city,¡± said Davo. ¡°He found employment with the Duke. He came from Nymmeria. He was considered to know about financial matters.¡±


    ¡°But then why was he killed?¡± asked Brill.


    ¡°Bad loans,¡± said Davo. ¡°It¡¯s always about money.¡±


    ¡°Loans to whom?¡±


    ¡°To the Duke. From Nymerria, the city of banks.¡±


    ¡°Banking was invented in Nymmeria,¡± Brill agreed, ¡°but that was much later.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said Davo. ¡°Duke Verman burned the city down to the ground, wiping out the whole Nymmerian culture, but they hung onto the idea of banking until they had a chance to rebuild. Took them several hundred years.¡±


    ¡°And did you read this in someone¡¯s memoir?¡± Brill asked Nic.


    ¡°There were four heads of state in Nymmeria,¡± said Nic. ¡°One for each house. Each house was a bank. They were called Keepers. Short for bookkeeper.¡±


    ¡°The clue¡¯s in the name,¡± said Fanny. Then he started giggling again. ¡°Wonky Jonkey.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s only one bank in modern Nymm,¡± said Nic. ¡°It¡¯s called the Bank of Four. There¡¯s only one of them.¡±


    ¡°Okay, fine,¡± said Brill, struggling to remain a sceptic. ¡°Let¡¯s say they had banking back then, and they loaned some money to the Duke. Why did that make him kill his chancellor?¡±


    ¡°His chancellor was the one who arranged the loan,¡± said Davo. ¡°From his brother. It was to fix the palace roof. It leaked.¡±


    ¡°How did you¡­?¡±


    ¡°They still have the records of expenses and outgoings from back then in the Verman Library,¡± said Nic. ¡°Chancellor Jonkey kept meticulous records on parchment of excellent quality, before he had his limbs cut off. You have to ask to see them. The records, not his limbs.¡±If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    ¡°And he couldn¡¯t pay the loan back?¡± asked Brill.


    ¡°A poor harvest meant tax revenues were down,¡± said Davo. ¡°A slight delay in repayments, not the end of the world. But the deal arranged by the chancellor wasn¡¯t a good one, I¡¯m afraid. The compound interest rapidly grew to three times the size of the original loan. As you can imagine, the Duke was not amused. He considered the brothers to have conspired against him. I don¡¯t think they had, it was probably their standard contract. But the chancellor, for all his excellent records and precise note-taking, was not a good businessman. You don¡¯t gouge your customers, intentionally or otherwise, and expect to last long in the world of commerce.¡±


    ¡°They weren¡¯t businessman and customer, though,¡± said Brill. ¡°They were Duke and Chancellor.¡±


    ¡°Same thing,¡± said Davo. ¡°It¡¯s a fundamental of any conflict¡ªyou never allow the customer to feel they¡¯ve been cheated. Even when they have. They should always prosper to your detriment, or at least it should appear so. They should feel confident they have the best deal available. Even when they surrender. Especially then. Otherwise the war hasn¡¯t ended, it¡¯s merely on hiatus. The success of Ranvar¡¯s military engagements have always relied on the enemy accepting our help to rebuild. Fear and intimidation to gain the victory, trade and cooperation to keep us there. It makes good business sense.¡±


    ¡°Isn¡¯t the whole point to grind your enemy into the dust? Isn¡¯t that how empires are built?¡± asked Brill. ¡°I don¡¯t see this velvet glove approach you seem to think exists. Ranvar is superior to our neighbours in all ways. They do what we tell them.¡±


    ¡°If I have five customers, and they each make two gold coins for every one of mine, then they each have two gold coins, and I have five.¡± Davo smiled. ¡°War and business are the same.¡±


    ¡°So all war is a commercial enterprise, and warriors and generals are the same as base-born tradesmen?¡± Brill spoke in a mild daze, and only realised what he¡¯d said after the words had left his mouth. ¡°Not that¡­ I didn¡¯t mean¡­¡±


    ¡°No, no,¡± said Davo. ¡°You¡¯re correct. It is base. Business is part of our less admirable nature, as is warring. But it is better to understand it and learn how to survive, than the alternative.¡±


    ¡°I¡­ I¡­¡± Brill looked like he was reeling while sitting down. ¡°Why didn¡¯t he just refuse to pay the money back?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± said Davo. ¡°I expect he was angry. Have you ever seen a really angry customer? A debutante whose heel snapped in the middle of a Royal Ball? While she was dancing with the eligible prince of some unheard of principality? I assure you, without the correct handling, a young woman like that would gladly burn Conoling & Son to the ground, all hands on deck. But there is always a way to handle things to everyone¡¯s mutual satisfaction. Simply lowering interest rates and calling it a clerical error would have sufficed. In the long term, all losses can be reclaimed.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps they should have given the Duke a refund,¡± said Fanny.


    ¡°Easy,¡± said Davo. ¡°Let¡¯s not attempt to change the wheel on a cart while it¡¯s still moving. Chancellor Jonkey and Keeper Jonkey were authors of their own demise, and that of their people.¡±


    ¡°But to destroy a city,¡± said Brill, ¡°to kill tens of thousands over a disputed bill¡­¡±


    ¡°They didn¡¯t all die. Most were enslaved. In the end, the Duke made a healthy profit on the deal.¡± Davo smiled wistfully. ¡°That was the idea of his new chancellor. Now, there was a man who knew how to run a base commercial enterprise.¡±


    ¡°You sound like you approve of slavery,¡± said Fanny.


    ¡°Of course not,¡± said Davo. ¡°It¡¯s a despicable, inhuman act to put another human being in chains. But purely as a fiscal proposal, in context, you understand, it was an astute move. It allowed for the solid financial foundations that Ranvar ended up being built on. By the way, that new chancellor was Phylum Mendum. You may have heard the name.¡±


    ¡°The Responsible Chancellor?¡± said Brill. ¡°Yes, I¡¯ve heard of him.¡±


    ¡°The man was a legend,¡± said Davo with unbridled conviction. ¡°An unsung hero.¡±


    ¡°They should have given him a more exciting title to be remembered by, then,¡± said Fanny.


    ¡°You understand nothing. He wasn¡¯t just ¡®The Responsible Chancellor¡¯. He was ¡®Chancellor: Responsible¡¯. Chancellor, colon, Responsible. Understand. They acknowledged his role. It¡¯s in the records.¡±


    ¡°No, it isn¡¯t,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± said Davo.


    ¡°It isn¡¯t written like that in the records.¡±


    ¡°But I¡¯ve seen it.¡±


    ¡°No, you haven¡¯t. Not once is it written as Chancellor, colon, Responsible. The only person who writes it like that is you.¡±


    ¡°But I¡¯m sure¡­ I was positive I saw¡­ I mean...¡±


    Nic shook his head.


    ¡°Maybe you dreamed it and thought it was real,¡± said Fanny. ¡°That happens to me sometimes, when I wake up and think there¡¯s a pound cake still in the pantry. But there isn¡¯t. I already ate it. Every time.¡±


    Davo ignored him as he reassessed the incorrect facts his understanding of history had been built on, a hand over his mouth.


    Fanny leaned over towards Brill. ¡°Davo dreams about balanced books and numbers all neatly written in columns. Nic may just have brought his world crashing down around his ears.¡±


    ¡°But if you knew I was incorrect,¡± said Davo, ¡°why didn¡¯t you correct me?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t say you were incorrect,¡± said Nic. ¡°Your interpretation could be spot on. When people write these things down, they want it to be read a certain way. They want you to think the same way they did. Sometimes on purpose, sometimes not. Sometimes the truer facts are hidden beneath the obvious ones. Sometimes on purpose, sometimes not. I¡¯ve always found if you collect enough information and let it settle, the important things have their own purpose. They climb into your thoughts and make themselves known. It¡¯s an instinct, as powerful as the one that takes a ferret to a rabbit¡¯s throat. Maybe your way of seeing Chancellor Mendum¡¯s role is the correct one.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t understand,¡± said Brill, even more uncertain of his position than Davo. ¡°If this is all known, why are we taught The Battle of the Two Cities was about a jealous husband? Are you suggesting you have a better understanding of history than our teachers and educators?¡±


    ¡°They know,¡± said Nic. ¡°If you give them back the answers they gave you, they¡¯ll give you full marks. But they¡¯ll give you extra marks if you tell them the answers they didn¡¯t give you.¡±


    Brill sagged in his chair. ¡°Is it always like this around here?¡± he asked no one in particular.


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Fanny, sliding down his own chair. ¡°It¡¯s exhausting, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°Indeed,¡± said Brill. He stood up. ¡°I need to lie down.¡±


    He left the three boys sitting around the fire, rubbing his forehead and sighing heavily as he closed the door to his room.


    ¡°Do you think he¡¯s spying on us?¡± asked Fanny in a low voice that barely rose above the crackling of the fire.


    ¡°Clearly, he is,¡± said Davo. ¡°He told us so himself. He reports to his father.¡±


    ¡°Yes, I know that. But I mean really.¡±


    ¡°Yes, really,¡± said Davo. ¡°He said so specifically.¡±


    ¡°Why would he just tell us like that?¡± said Fanny, a little tetchy that Davo was being so obtuse.


    ¡°Because,¡± said Davo, ¡°he either sees us as so inferior to him he considers us unable to do anything about it, or he¡¯s a bit odd.¡±


    ¡°Or he wanted us to know he wasn¡¯t going to really spy on us, just pretend. Although, now that you say it, I¡¯d probably go for him being a bit odd.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not like there aren¡¯t other people watching us,¡± said Nic.


    Fanny sat up and looked around the room. ¡°Do you think there are agents in here with us, right now?¡±


    ¡°Probably,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°Right now,¡± emphasised Fanny.


    ¡°Has the cold weather rendered you hard of hearing?¡± said Davo. ¡°Yes, right now. The room¡¯s probably crawling with them. Every room.¡±


    ¡°Even the toilet?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Even the toilet when you¡¯re in there.¡±


    ¡°I suppose they have been trained for that sort of thing.¡±


    ¡°Suicide missions?¡± said Davo.


    Fanny continued to look around as shadows from the fire licked at the walls. ¡°If they are hanging about, I could use them to perfect my detector.¡±


    Nic glanced away from the fire. ¡°The Archmage said he was going to send you some stuff to help with that. Did you get it?¡±


    Fanny shook his head.


    ¡°Denkne¡¯s probably got it,¡± said Davo. ¡°You should ask him.¡±


    Fanny shuddered. ¡°What would I say? He¡¯s a bit creepy-looking, don¡¯t you think? Not sure how I¡¯d approach him.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s simple,¡± said Davo. ¡°Knock on his door and say, ¡®I believe you have a delivery for me, my good man. Hand it over, chop, chop,¡± and then give him a few coins for his trouble. What¡¯s the worst that could happen?¡±


    ¡°He could obliterate me with a bolt of lightning,¡± said Fanny. ¡°What kind of mage do you think he is?¡±


    ¡°Maybe something to do with ice?¡± said Davo.


    ¡°White hair, ice, yeah, I can see it. I thought lightning, but ice is better. Turn people into frozen statues.¡±


    There was more inane speculation about Denkne¡¯s specialisation, but Nic¡¯s attention had returned to the fire.


    He had been trying to decide how to proceed. If he did nothing and carried on like any other student, he would be no better or worse off than he was now, should something happen.


    Not knowing how to prepare himself meant it really didn¡¯t matter what he did.


    If he carried on pursuing answers about Winnum Roke, about demons and mages, the amount of information he had to work with would grow. Which meant the chances of him coming across something useful would also grow. But he could be looking in the wrong places, assuming there even was an answer waiting to be found.


    He believed what he told Davo, that knowledge accumulated and lived inside of you. He wasn¡¯t sure how it happened, but if you had the pieces of a puzzle in your mind, they would eventually drift close enough to fit together. It had happened too many times for him to doubt it. The answer always came. You just had to be able to recognise when it did. And then you had to figure out what to do with it. In some cases, it might come and go without you even noticing.


    He was sure that hadn¡¯t happened yet. Fairly sure.


    ¡°Nic?¡±


    ¡°Hmm?¡± said Nic.


    Fanny was staring at him, from slightly closer than was comfortable. ¡°I said, do you think the headmaster will try to get us expelled again?¡±


    Nic moved his head from side to side. ¡°I don¡¯t know. If an opportunity presents itself, maybe. The justification for it would have to be greater than the last attempt. Watertight. I doubt he¡¯ll find anything like that. Unless one of us slips up badly.¡±


    The three boys looked at each other, eyes narrowed.


    ¡°On three,¡± said Davo. ¡°One, two, three¡­¡±


    Davo and Nic pointed at Fanny; Fanny pointed at Davo.


    ¡°What!¡± said Fanny. ¡°It won¡¯t be me. I came third!¡±


    ¡°Probably won¡¯t be any of us,¡± said Nic, lowering his hand. ¡°He isn¡¯t a vindictive man, he just has the urge to protect his students at all costs, and if he feels he has to take harm to shield them, it only makes him more resolute, like his personal suffering is confirmation of the importance of the effort. He¡¯s pragmatic, really, choosing the path he considers least harmful to the most students, but it makes it hard to reason with him.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s why you offered to let him drop us down the rankings?¡± said Davo.


    ¡°Yes. He would find it hard to refuse an offer like that, where everyone gains something, but he takes the greatest risk. His career could be over if the governors thought he had overstepped his bounds.¡±


    ¡°Brill must have had it hard,¡± said Fanny.


    ¡°No, I don¡¯t think so,¡± said Nic. ¡°He wouldn¡¯t force Brill to take any burden on his behalf. I don¡¯t think he even sent him here to spy on us. More likely, he wants to expose his son to an unsafe element, the way you expose a baby to chicken pox; to make it stronger. We¡¯re inoculating him against worse things he¡¯ll face later. He¡¯s probably at home, worried sick about what we might be putting his boy through, but he won¡¯t intervene unless absolutely necessary. His suffering only confirms his decision was correct.¡±


    Nic looked up to find the other two staring at him.


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°You know,¡± said Davo, ¡°whenever I experience an overwhelming sense of fear and trepidation about the demon you carry around with you, I remind myself how scary and unnerving you are. The demon¡¯s probably sitting in a corner hoping you don¡¯t notice it.¡±


    ¡°You think I¡¯m scary? Why?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve met the Head, what? Twice? And you have him dissected like a biology experiment. Can you do that to me and Fanny? Break us apart and see how we function? No, no, I don¡¯t want to know. I¡¯m going to bed.¡±


    ¡°To dream about profit margins,¡± Fanny whispered to Nic, loudly.


    Both boys rose and went to their rooms, leaving Nic in front of the fire. He sat there, thinking. He had so much to think about. His mind flitted from one kernel of information to the next, and the thing that stuck out, the place his mind returned to again and again was the book of fairytales written by Winnum Roke.


    He considered the priceless volumes of forbidden knowledge he¡¯d been shown in the Librarium, to which he no longer had access. They contained many valuable nuggets of enlightenment, but none to match the depth of knowledge he sensed in those simple fairy stories. Digging it out was the problem. He felt like he was scratching at a coal face with his fingernails.


    She had left truths hidden behind stories. Why? Why not just leave clear instructions carved into the side of a mountain?


    He had already come to the conclusion that there was someone at the Royal College she didn¡¯t trust. It would be easiest to assume it was the demon itself, in some guise, but would Winnum Roke really not be able to identify an impostor and deal with it directly?


    He felt it had to be someone else she was wary of. One of her own. Perhaps more than one. You only hide clues if you don¡¯t want undesirables to learn your secrets, but you also need to be sure the right people know where to look. To know your important message.


    And yet, the book, or at least a version of it, was in practically every home. That didn¡¯t seem to match the intent of either the person who wrote it, or the ones she hid it from.


    Unless the person who made it widely available wasn¡¯t able to decipher it, but instead made it so common as to become meaningless. Just stories. Who would think there was something special waiting to be found there when it was available so freely?


    The original was written when Winnum Roke was Archmage at the Royal College. After she left, someone must have authorised its publication. If he could find out who, perhaps it would indicate¡­ something. He really had no idea what his mind was trying to tell him.


    He was still pondering a few hours later when Brill emerged from his room to use the bathroom.


    The fire was only embers. Nic was seated in the same position he had been all night, eyes closed, the flames still playing on the insides of his eyelids.


    Brill let out a soft, scoffing laugh. ¡°I thought you¡¯d be studying.¡±


    Nic waited until Brill went to relieve himself, and then very quietly said, ¡°I am.¡±

 TGS - No chapter today

    Will be back next Sunday.


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    Will be back next Sunday. Will also be taking a break from HTADDB and Bitter this week.


    Sorry for the inconvenience. If you aren''t too upset, please keep voting on TopWebFiction for me, thank you.If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


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 Chapter Thirty Three

    <u></u>Nic didn¡¯t go to bed. He remained curled in the chair in front of the fire, drifting in and out of sleep. He was too comfortable to move, and too uncomfortable to make it past a light snooze.


    The fire had gone out and the hall rapidly cooled down. He fancied he heard footsteps. It could have been one of his roommates moving around his room, or it could have been Secret Service agents changing position. He was unlikely to be able to hear that under normal circumstances, but perhaps a state of semi-consciousness allowed you to notice things you otherwise wouldn¡¯t.


    The footsteps could also have been the demon wandering around his mind. It had settled down to wait for its master. Or mistress. Did demons have gender? She was coming. Were all demons her children? Did they reproduce like animals? Like people? If she was the mother, who was the father? There wasn¡¯t much research on the subject that Nic had encountered, and he had looked.


    There was a creak from above. He sat with his eyes closed, ignoring it. Most likely it was the wind. Mallory hadn¡¯t returned for the new term. There was no one upstairs.


    His stomach made its own noises. Perhaps the demon was rummaging about down there, looking for a snack. He doubted it would find much. He needed to eat more. Get bigger and stronger, like a soldier. A hero. A smile played across his dried lips.


    He did feel hungry, though. He could raid Fanny¡¯s pantry, there was always something good in there.


    Nic opened his eyes. They were a bit gummy and he had to blink rapidly to clear his vision. With all the doors closed, the only light came from the window in the kitchen. The first hint of dawn had crept all the way to the kitchen doorway, but shyly clung to the doorframe.


    He stood up and went to Fanny¡¯s door. He knocked lightly. It was kind of pointless to try to wake him without disturbing his sleep. He turned the handle and the door opened.


    Fanny slept with at least three blankets piled on top of him, and both feet sticking out of the bottom. He had socks on. He was on his back, his mouth wide open to accommodate large, noisy breaths.


    Nic crept closer and shook Fanny gently by the shoulder. There was no response. He could wait until morning to ask his question, but he didn¡¯t have the patience. He shook Fanny a little harder, making his head sway from side to side. Other than adding a little vibrato to Fanny¡¯s breathing, nothing changed.


    ¡°Hey, hey,¡± he whispered. ¡°Hey.¡±


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± asked Davo. He was standing in the doorway in a silk dressing gown. His normally well-oiled hair flopped across his face.


    ¡°I need to ask him something,¡± said Nic.


    Davo walked in, grabbed the pillow under Fanny¡¯s head, and pulled it out.


    Fanny¡¯s head dropped onto the mattress, bouncing up to meet the pillow smashed into his face, repeatedly. His hands rose to defend himself as he spluttered awake.


    ¡°Huh? Ah. No. Wait.¡±


    ¡°There you are,¡± said Davo. ¡°Ask away.¡±


    Fanny looked at them through squinting eyes. The early morning light had snuck around the cottage to peer in through the window.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± said Fanny in a hoarse voice. ¡°Is it trouble?¡± He sat up, eyes alert and darting from Nic to Davo, and back again.


    ¡°What does your dad eat?¡± asked Nic.


    Fanny¡¯s face collapsed into confusion. ¡°Eh?¡±


    ¡°Your father. What kind of diet does he have? Does he eat a lot?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said Fanny. ¡°Not a lot. The usual amount.¡± Comprehension slowly dawned on him. ¡°He eats solids. All the time.¡±


    ¡°Maybe it¡¯s only when they¡¯re training,¡± said Davo. He had picked up on what Nic was getting at. Mr Denkne had told the class mages needed to exercise great restraint when it came to eating, as part of their development as Arcanum users. Fanny¡¯s father was a mage at the Royal College. ¡°It could have been before Fanny was born.¡±


    ¡°And then they go back to eating like normal?¡± said Nic. ¡°I don¡¯t think so.¡±


    ¡°Maybe it was a metaphor,¡± said Fanny.


    ¡°Maybe it was a lie,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°Why would he lie about that?¡± asked Davo.


    Nic didn¡¯t know the answer to that. Yet.


    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you say anything?¡± Davo said to Fanny. ¡°When Denkne told us about it in class, didn¡¯t you wonder why you¡¯ve never seen your father fasting?¡±


    Fanny shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t really think of him as a mage. He never does magic around the house. I don¡¯t even know what his speciality is.¡±


    ¡°How can you not know your own father¡¯s speciality?¡± asked Davo aghast.


    ¡°I think it might have to do with locating things. Whenever my mother can¡¯t find something in the kitchen, he always knows where it is.¡±


    Davo pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. ¡°Wonderful. If the demons attack, at least we¡¯ll know where the baking tins are.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re making me hungry,¡± said Fanny. ¡°Is it time for breakfast?¡±


    Davo looked at the window. ¡°In about two hours.¡±


    ¡°Close enough.¡± Fanny rolled out of bed.


    ¡°Good thing he was lying about the fasting,¡± said Davo. ¡°You¡¯d never make a mage otherwise.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± said Fanny. ¡°I was considering giving up on the whole idea. Thanks,¡± he said to Nic. ¡°I feel a lot better about my prospects, now.¡±


    Nic moved aside to let Fanny out. His thoughts were still on Denkne. The Archmage had sent him to keep an eye on things. Minister Delcroix had vouched for him. Where did telling the students fabrications come into play? Was Denkne some kind of prankster? That didn¡¯t seem likely.


    There was a distinct feeling that he was missing something. Perhaps the Archmage had set Denkne a different task. But what did lying achieve? The smell of toast distracted him and he went to join the others.


    They didn¡¯t go back to bed. It seemed pointless, and Fanny produced a stream of pastries out of the small oven no one else had even figured out how to light. They chatted about what they had been up to over the break, and how to best organise their time over the new term; a moment of normality at dawn.


    Nic was expected to decide on logistical matters, his approach being well in advance of theirs. There were no exams this term, but Ransom had a full itinerary for them.


    Brill joined them soon after, his nostrils unable to ignore the early morning call to feast. They didn¡¯t bother going to the cafeteria for breakfast. Fanny complained mildly about having to restock his provisions, but his pantry was still more than half full by the time they¡¯d gorged themselves to a standstill.


    Fanny offered the last pastry to the empty corners of the kitchen, in case there were any hungry agents on duty, but there were no takers. Brill watched him with a puzzled look on his face. His questioning glances towards Nic and Davo was answered with mimed responses strongly implying Fanny had mental problems.


    Washed and changed into their school uniforms, the four boys headed for the school hall, a location three of them hadn¡¯t visited before.


    ¡°It¡¯ll just be an announcement about the presentation project,¡± Brill informed them. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t take long.¡±


    They knew what the presentation project was in theory, but it hadn¡¯t been explained in very great depth in the literature they¡¯d received. A large block of the second term would be given over to the writing and presenting of a paper, the subject of which would be chosen by each student, developed by them in whatever manner they saw fit, and then judged at a public presentation at the end of the term.


    It was up to each individual student to decide what they thought would be worth presenting. The scope was so broad, it made it virtually impossible to work out what the faculty expected.


    Nic found the idea both baffling and beguiling. He couldn¡¯t predict the best course of action, leaving him to do something on a subject he considered enthralling, and hope for the best.


    Only, he wouldn¡¯t do that. He would carefully consider what the teachers would respond best to, and then give them something they couldn¡¯t resist. At least, he would try. It would depend on exactly what the restrictions were. And if he had the time.


    ¡°It¡¯s all a bit vague, isn¡¯t it?¡± asked Fanny as they walked across the quad. A stiff breeze broomed the clouds across the sky before they could settle.


    ¡°It¡¯s open-ended at the outset,¡± said Brill. ¡°It doesn¡¯t have to be vague in the execution. The whole school turns out to watch and most are very well received. A few are even what I would term amazing¡ªemphasis on the zing! And then, of course, some are stunningly disappointing. I¡¯ve seen some very fine lectures. And some outrageous grandstanding. There was one last year where the student decided to show the cyclical nature of the food chain by having larger animals eat smaller ones on stage. Worked his way up to a human being eating a full dinner, choking on a bone and then his body decomposed as we watched, providing sustenance for an army of insects that invaded the auditorium.¡±


    ¡°How did he do that?¡± asked Fanny, at once thrilled and horrified.


    ¡°Puppets,¡± said Brill.


    ¡°We¡¯re expected to put on a show, are we?¡± asked Davo.


    ¡°You can communicate your ideas any way you see fit,¡± said Brill. ¡°It¡¯s all about you expressing your own interests. There is no right or wrong answer.¡±


    ¡°But they awarded marks, don¡¯t they?¡± asked Nic.


    ¡°End of year exams are worth more, but, yes,¡± said Brill. ¡°In particular, they take them into account when deciding who to put it into the more selective classes in the second year.¡±


    ¡°You mean the Arts Course,¡± said Davo.


    ¡°Indeed I do,¡± said Brill. ¡°Some less than impressive students have managed to gain admission thanks to a stellar project presentation.¡±


    Nic considered it a smart move on the part of the school. It allowed them plenty of leeway when it came to assigning students to classes in the second year. With a highly subjective approach to assessing a successful presentation, it would be easy to justify the inclusion of favoured student when their results might not seem to merit it. A royal child or powerful scion could be legitimately ushered in.


    And it also allowed for those who weren¡¯t the right sort to be held back. They might have the marks to gain entry, but were they ¡®fully-rounded¡¯? Did they demonstrate the right sort of ¡®mentality¡¯? Were they ¡®one of us¡¯?Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    When they reached the hall building, students were waiting outside. There was a degree of agitation in the air, not due to the special assembly, but because new rankings for the mocks had been posted, with revised standings thanks to Nic, Davo and Fanny being included this time.


    Some students were a little put out by their lowered positions, but the Also-Rans being overlooked wasn¡¯t exactly an unprecedented occurrence. It may have come as a bit of a surprise to some of the students that the three of them were still attending the school.


    They received some questioning looks as they walked up, and some questionable ones, too. Brill took the lead and shooed them away with the confidence of a man who knew he was well beyond the reach of those in his path. Outside the school walls, it would have been a different story.


    The school hall was an enormous building with an upper tier for when the entire school was required to be present. It felt cavernous with only the first year upperclass in attendance.


    ¡°I guess this is where we would have come on our first day,¡± said Davo, ¡°if we¡¯d been invited.¡±


    ¡°Why aren¡¯t there any chairs?¡± asked Fanny. ¡°How long will this go on for?¡±


    The Headmaster came onto the stage at the front and motioned for quiet.


    ¡°Thank you, settle down now, please. Welcome back to all of you. As you know, this term you will be given a great deal of latitude with your studies. Your applications need to be in by the end of the week.¡±


    ¡°What applications?¡± whispered Fanny. Brill waved him silent.


    The Headmaster continued talking for thirty minutes or so. Fanny was floppy and listless after the first fifteen. Davo stood ramrod straight, concentrating. There was a lot of information to take in, but there was also a great deal taken for granted. This was a time-honoured Ransom tradition, so it was assumed the students were already aware of the basic requirements.


    And they all seemed to be. Apart from a small minority.


    Nic was relieved they had Brill to explain the finer points, and also some of the more general ones.


    The gist of it, as far as Nic was able to ascertain, was that they would have to come up with a proposal for their presentation, and hand it into the teacher who they thought would be best suited to help them.


    The teacher would be an adviser who could point them towards the things they would need to make their presentation a success. He wasn¡¯t a participant, or a judge. He was merely a supervisor who might offer a little counselling on the side. The students were solely accountable for their efforts.


    ¡°Sounds like just another day at Ransom to me,¡± said Davo under his breath.


    Nic suppressed a smile and looked down the line. Brill had a strange expression on his face as he watched his father on the stage. Pride burst out of him. He planned to become a mage, but following in his father¡¯s footsteps might be the more rewarding path. Nic¡¯s gaze slipped past him and was sharply intercepted by two glaring eyes at the far end of the row, no less intimidating for the distance.


    Nic snapped his head to face front, and then dared a peek to see if Dizzy was still staring at him. He didn¡¯t really need to look, he could feel her rage boring into him. He knew that look. She was mad about his relationship with her father. It didn¡¯t matter what the relationship was, she didn¡¯t like it. She meant to find out why her position had been usurped, even though that was far from the truth. He couldn¡¯t tell her that, it would only aggravate her. There was no point denying it, if he wanted to keep her away, he¡¯d have to find satisfactory answers for her questions. Dull ones that would placate her into losing interest.


    He had arrived at the school to be met by ferocious indifference from the girl, and now that he needed her to keep away, she had suddenly developed a morbid interest in him. The time allocated for working on the presentations would at least prevent him from seeing so much of her in class.


    After the assembly they had the rest of the day free to begin the process of working up a proposal and consider their options for an advisor. Brill already seemed to have his proposal written and rushed off to procure the teacher of his choice. The other three headed for the library.


    ¡°Denkne¡¯s going to be popular,¡± said Davo. ¡°All the Arts Course aspirants will be rushing to have a mage of the Royal College on call.¡±


    ¡°Are you going to apply to him?¡± Nic asked Fanny.


    ¡°Mmm,¡± answered Fanny noncommittally. ¡°Dunno. I should, but I¡¯d rather have someone who can help with technical stuff. I want to get my detector fine tuned. I¡¯ve got some pretty good ideas. I think it¡¯ll make a decent stage show, once I add some music.¡±


    ¡°Shouldn¡¯t you go see Denkne about any items he might have for you, then?¡± said Davo.


    Fanny didn¡¯t look keen. ¡°Maybe after lunch.¡±


    He prevaricated after lunch and well into the afternoon. Davo had a concept for demonstrating how the economy of Ranvar operated. His ideas were somewhat controversial, but his natural flair as a salesman would probably make them more palatable. It helped that he had no interest in getting onto the Arts Course, leaving him free to be more provocative.


    Nic had no interests in that direction, either, but since Denkne had been sent here because of him, it seemed fitting that he choose him as his advisor. That way, if something untoward were to happen, he would have a clear channel of communication already set up.


    He was hesitant. He sensed something improper with regard to the white-haired mage.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to talk to Denkne,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°Can you ask him if he¡¯s got anything for me?¡± Fanny immediately blurted out.


    Nic shrugged. ¡°Okay.¡±


    ¡°Coward,¡± said Davo.


    The teachers¡¯ building was as large as any of the student dormitories, although it housed considerably fewer occupants. Nic walked up the shallow steps to the entrance with a little anxiety pulling at his stomach. It was like entering enemy territory.


    A porter asked him his business at the door. He was sitting behind a small window, in a room the size of a closet, lined with shelves full of envelopes and packages.


    ¡°I¡¯d like to see Mr Denkne, please,¡± Nic said in a voice a small girl would have been embarrassed of. He cleared his throat and tried again.


    ¡°Nic Tutt?¡± asked the porter.


    ¡°Um, yes,¡± said Nic, taken by surprise.


    ¡°You¡¯re expected.¡± He gave Nic directions to Mr Denkne¡¯s rooms.


    The teachers had had the day off. Judging by the noise when Nic entered the building, they¡¯d spent most of it drinking. Nic kept his head down and hurried up the stairs. He didn¡¯t like dealing with inebriated adults. They were hard to predict and impossible to outsmart. They were going to do whatever they were going to do, you couldn¡¯t stop them. You could, however, outrun them.


    He made it to the fifth floor without incident and found Denkne¡¯s apartment. He knocked on the door and received a resounding, ¡°Enter!¡±


    The door was unlocked. Mr Denkne was in a large wooden tub in the middle of his living room.


    ¡°Close the door, you¡¯ll give me a chill.¡±


    Nic closed the door. Now he felt really uncomfortable.


    Steam rose from the water, filling the room with perfume. There were no pipes or any kind of heating source that Nic could see.


    Denkne stirred in his bath. He wiped the sweat from his face and neck with a small white towel and sank deeper into the hot scented water, releasing a contented sigh.


    ¡°If you¡¯d told me a few days ago I¡¯d be sitting in a tub in the middle of a tiny apartment, surrounded by mewling children on all sides, and not a few above and below, I¡¯d have sent you to the Ministry of Instruction for assessment. And yet, here I am.¡±


    He opened his eyes and looked at Nic. Water dripped down his long face. Nic didn¡¯t know how to start a conversation from this position.


    ¡°You have something you wish to ask me?¡±


    ¡°Oh, um, yes.¡± Nic looked around for somewhere to sit. The change of angle might make things easier. There were no chairs, just a settee on the far side of the sparsely furnished room. He couldn¡¯t really sit over there and shout.


    ¡°Concerned we might be overheard?¡± asked Denkne playfully. He raised a wet arm and shook the water off.


    The air around them changed. Coloured shadows stretched out, painting the room in a wash of red and blue. Standing by the window were two Secret Service agents.


    ¡°Don¡¯t fret, they are hearing an entirely different conversation.¡± He leaned out of the bath and lowered his voice. ¡°They think you¡¯re here to ask my advice about a girl you have a crush on.¡±


    Nic was taken aback and Denkne let out surprised laughter. ¡°I was only jesting, but maybe I struck closer to the truth than intended. Worry not my young demon master, your love life is nobody¡¯s business but your own. They think this is to do with schoolwork. Speak freely.¡±


    It took a moment for Nic to collect himself.


    ¡°Did the Archmage send anything for Fan¡ª for Master Bostware¡¯s son?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said Denkne.


    ¡°But he said he would.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll have to ask him about that.¡± He busied himself collecting his long hair into a tail and hung it off the back of the tub.


    Nic thought about his next question a long time. Denkne didn¡¯t seem to mind the wait.


    ¡°Are you lying?¡±


    Denkne looked up, and then he smiled. ¡°Congratulations, Mr Tutt, you¡¯ve passed the preliminary test in perspicacity.¡±


    ¡°And in class, the different stages of preparation for a mage, that was also untrue?¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡± He was still smiling. It was faint and thin, and very unsettling.


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the question isn¡¯t it? When you figure out the answer, we will be able to discuss these things to a much greater degree.¡±


    Nic carefully considered the reasons why the mage might go to the trouble of telling pointless lies.


    ¡°Some kind of subterfuge?¡± Not really an answer, more a request for a hint.


    ¡°Honesty is the best subterfuge,¡± said Denkne.


    Nic nodded, not really understanding, but accepting that he wouldn¡¯t get his answers by simply requesting them. Not here.


    ¡°Tell me, Nicolav Tutt, will you be asking me to be your supervisor for the presentation project, or whatever it is?¡± Denkne sank down so only his slanted eyes remained above water, his long hair cascading in behind him.


    ¡°I¡­ don¡¯t know,¡± said Nic.


    Denkne paused his submerging, and then gracefully lifted his head out of the water. ¡°No? Why the hesitation?¡±


    ¡°I¡­ I don¡¯t trust you.¡±


    Denkne¡¯s thin lips spread across his face, threatening to release more laughter. ¡°You think I may be your enemy?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t trust what I don¡¯t understand,¡± said Nic. ¡°I can¡¯t trust you to do what I expect.¡±


    ¡°Ah, I see, I see. You wish to surround yourself with people who behave as you expect them to, good or bad. You can trust that. Very good. Very correct.¡± He slipped back down, his knees appearing like pale mountains.


    Nic waited for some further instructions, a question, something. No one spoke. The agents shimmered in the purple shadows.


    ¡°So, the Archmage did send something?¡± he asked finally.


    ¡°It¡¯s behind you.¡± The water began to bubble and more steam rose, making the room uncomfortably warm.


    Nic turned. There was a box on a table next to the door. He pointed at it. ¡°I should¡­¡±


    ¡°Yes, yes, off you go.¡±


    It was a fairly big box. Nic needed both hands to pick it up, and then he had to put it down again to open the door. Cold air chilled the warm moisture on his face. He walked out and turned to try and close the door. It blew shut by itself.


    Nic had hoped to learn something about why Denkne had been sent, and what kind of help he could expect. His audience with the white mage had left him none the wiser.


    He carried the box back to the cottage. It wasn¡¯t that heavy, but it was an awkward size and he had to keep stopping to reposition his hold so it didn¡¯t slip out of his grip.


    The cottage door was a bit of a hassle. He banged into it to try and reach the handle, and then knocked using the toe of his shoe. It was opened by Davo.


    ¡°We have a guest.¡±


    He pushed the box into Davo¡¯s arms where it seemed much smaller and easier to manage.


    Inside, Fanny and Brill were standing either side of the fireplace with nervous smiles affixed. Nic had to walk around to see who was in the chair facing them. Dizzy jumped up when she saw him.


    He knew he¡¯d have to face her at some point, but he hadn¡¯t had the time to prepare himself. She looked in no mood to reminisce about old times.


    ¡°Have you decided what your presentation will be on?¡± she asked with no preamble.


    ¡°No,¡± said Nic. ¡°Not yet.¡±


    ¡°But the teacher you want as supervisor, it¡¯s Denkne, right? He¡¯s the only full-fledged mage in the school and anyone who wants to get on the Arts Course would hope to have him as their mentor. He¡¯s going to be very popular¡ªprobably won¡¯t be able to take on everyone who applies.¡±


    It was a bit like being caught in a storm, the wind stinging your eyes and the debris flying past close to your face. ¡°I don¡¯t want to get on the Arts Course,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°No, of course you don¡¯t. Why would you? What¡¯s in the box?¡±


    Nic followed her gaze to the box in Davo¡¯s arms.


    ¡°It¡¯s Fanny¡¯s,¡± said Nic.


    Dizzy reached out and lifted a corner. There was a label Nic hadn¡¯t seen. It very clearly had Denkne¡¯s name on it.


    ¡°You got this from Mr Denkne,¡± she said with chilling certainty.


    ¡°For Fanny,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°He knew your name. In class, when he spoke to you, he knew your name without asking.¡±


    Nic shrugged.


    ¡°You went to see him. But you aren¡¯t going to ask him to be your supervisor.¡±


    ¡°I¡ª¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t know yet.¡±


    Nic nodded.


    ¡°If you wait too long, it might be too late. I can ask anytime. I won¡¯t be refused. You don¡¯t have the same privilege. You didn¡¯t come first in the mocks. I came first.¡±


    ¡°Second,¡± said Fanny.


    She turned to face him, her whole body, ready. ¡°What?¡±


    He smiled innocently. ¡°Just a second and I¡¯ll get you a drink.¡±


    She looked at him closely. An examination. ¡°Thank you, I¡¯m fine.¡±


    ¡°Cake? I think I have some left.¡± Fanny paused to think. ¡°I might have eaten it, though.¡±


    She shook her head and turned back to Nic. ¡°When will you decide?¡±


    It was all very brusque and businesslike, with little room for evasion. ¡°Tomorrow?¡±


    ¡°Good. Can you let me know before you declare your interest?¡±


    ¡°Okay,¡± said Nic slowly. ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Because you owe me and I asked you. Isn¡¯t that reason enough?¡±


    Nic couldn¡¯t really disagree. He nodded.


    Dizzy turned and walked out.


    ¡°What the hell was that?¡± asked Brill.


    ¡°They have a difficult relationship,¡± said Fanny. ¡°Childhood friends.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± said Brill. ¡°It¡¯s like that, is it?¡±


    Nic wasn¡¯t entirely sure what he meant, and he had no intention to ask.


    ¡°I thought she wanted nothing to do with you,¡± said Davo. ¡°Why is she suddenly making personal visits?¡±


    ¡°Miss Delcroix is not someone you should underestimate,¡± said Brill. ¡°I expect she¡¯s noticed the same things I have. This is where the action is.¡±


    ¡°All the more reason to keep your distance,¡± said Davo.


    ¡°Hmm,¡± said Fanny. ¡°Do you think she wants to know which teacher you¡¯d like to be assigned to because she wants to be in the same group as you, or because she wants to make sure she isn¡¯t.¡±


    Previously, Nic would have banked on it being the latter. Preventing a move on his part before he¡¯d had a chance to even consider it was very much her style. But now, it was far more likely she wanted to keep a closer eye on him. He couldn¡¯t allow that.

 Chapter Thirty Four

    ¡°Everything he said about training to be a mage was a lie?¡± Brill sat down in the armchair he¡¯d been hovering around as Nic went over his encounter with Master Denkne.


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Nic. ¡°Complete fabrication.¡±


    ¡°But why?¡± asked Brill.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. I think he¡¯s trying to teach us something.¡±


    ¡°What has lying got to do with Arcanum dispersal fields?¡± said Brill. ¡°You can¡¯t mislead a pencil and protractor.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps he isn¡¯t here to teach us how to draw Arcanum dispersal fields,¡± said Davo.


    ¡°But that¡¯s the chapter he set us to read for the next lesson,¡± said Brill, as though this was proof positive of the mage¡¯s intentions.


    ¡°Maybe that¡¯s a lie, too,¡± said Fanny.


    Brill looked at them, from one to the next. The three boys seemed unperturbed by the mage¡¯s strange behaviour. Even if it was true, the least they could do was act appropriately baffled. He wasn¡¯t used to being the least composed person in a room.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± said Nic. ¡°I¡¯m sure it won¡¯t do you any harm to read up on Arcanum dispersal theory.¡±


    ¡°Blast it, I can¡¯t even tell if you¡¯re making fun of me or not.¡± Brill shook his head.


    ¡°Why would I make fun of you?¡± said Nic.


    ¡°He isn¡¯t making fun of you,¡± said Davo. ¡°He¡¯s just telling you to keep running, as he laps you. It¡¯s hard to take that kind encouragement with good manners. Believe me, we know.¡±


    Fanny raised a sympathetic eyebrow and nodded.


    ¡°Do you really think of me as condescending?¡± asked Nic.


    ¡°You aren¡¯t condescending,¡± said Davo. ¡°You¡¯re just better at this than the rest of us. That¡¯s what makes it so horrifying.¡±


    ¡°Look, I understand what you¡¯re saying,¡± said Brill having had a moment to collect himself. ¡°Yes, he¡¯s a strange chap¡ªhe¡¯s a full-fledged mage, after all¡ªbut that doesn¡¯t mean he can just bowl in and turn everything on its head. We have ways of doing things here. This place was built on tradition.¡±


    The other three looked at each other, waiting to see who wanted to handle this one. Nic shrugged, reluctant to come across as too overbearing. Fanny was too busy opening the box Nic had brought.


    ¡°There¡¯s no such thing as tradition,¡± said Davo. ¡°It¡¯s just a way to get rid of old stock. Seasons change, and when they do, you better have new inventory in. It¡¯s just that Ranvar¡¯s always had very long, slow seasons.¡±


    Brill expelled air. ¡°Not everything can be reduced to trade and profit.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m going to pretend I didn¡¯t hear that, and perhaps you should stop before you say something you can¡¯t take back,¡± said Davo very solemnly.


    ¡°Why is this in here?¡± said Fanny. Out of the box he pulled another box. This one was wrapped up like a gift, with Fanny¡¯s name written on a small white card. He flipped it over. On the reverse it said, ¡°From Father.¡±


    ¡°You should have carried it like that,¡± said Davo with a small smile. ¡°It would have got you into less trouble.¡±


    Fanny began ripping the wrapping paper.


    ¡°I would have,¡± said Nic, ¡°if I¡¯d known it was in there. I was too flustered.¡±


    ¡°Oh? Flustered by what?¡± asked Davo.


    Nic told them about Denkne being in the bath during their meeting, which he had left out in his previous summation of events.


    ¡°You were in the bathroom?¡± asked Davo.


    ¡°No, the tub was in the living room.¡±


    ¡°Was he naked?¡± asked Fanny.


    ¡°Obviously,¡± said Davo. ¡°Why would he take a bath fully dressed?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. I¡¯m not a mage, am I?¡±


    ¡°Your father is, though, isn¡¯t he? Does he take baths in a suit and tie?¡±


    ¡°How would I know?¡± said Fanny defensively. ¡°I¡¯ve never taken a bath with him.¡±


    ¡°I think one thing¡¯s clear,¡± said Brill, refusing to turn into a slack-jawed bystander, ¡°the man¡¯s deliberately trying to be as unsettling as possible. He¡¯s well aware of the effects of his actions, agreed?¡± He looked to the others for some sort indication they considered his interjection worthwhile. They all seemed to be paying attention and willing to hear him out. ¡°The only question that remains is what can we learn from his odd behaviour.¡±


    ¡°I think that¡¯s a very accurate reduction of the problem,¡± said Davo, to Brill¡¯s great relief. ¡°Clearly, he wishes his odd behaviour to have an effect and he isn¡¯t being subtle about it. We only need to establish the purpose and we¡¯ll have the advantage of him. So what is his purpose, Nic?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Davo, ¡°but you¡¯ve already determined all the things it couldn¡¯t be, I would think.¡±


    Nic shrugged. ¡°The really obvious things, sure.¡±


    ¡°And from what¡¯s left, there are most likely some that stand out as more likely than others.¡±


    ¡°I guess.¡±


    ¡°And one that nags at you like a bee sting in the back of your neck.¡±


    Nic looked up at Davo who was a full head taller than him. ¡°How do you know that?¡±


    ¡°Aha. You aren¡¯t the only one who can follow a trail of breadcrumbs. Look at you, tugging on the back of your hair.¡±


    ¡°Are you saying I have a tell?¡± Nic said with some concern. He brought his hand down to his side.


    ¡°I pray for the chance to one day face you in a high-stakes game of cards, so I can thoroughly fleece you,¡± said Davo.


    ¡°Well, what is it?¡± broke in Brill impatiently, rising to his feet. ¡°What does the itch on your neck tell you?¡±


    Nic sighed. ¡°Demons don¡¯t lie.¡±


    ¡°So, he isn¡¯t a demon?¡± asked Fanny, his hands full of tubes and wires.


    ¡°Well done, Fanny,¡± said Davo. ¡°You¡¯ve established he isn¡¯t a demon and he doesn¡¯t bathe with his clothes on. You¡¯re really narrowing down the options.¡±


    ¡°For reference,¡± Fanny said to Brill, ¡°that¡¯s what real condescension sounds like.¡±


    ¡°Demon¡¯s don¡¯t lie,¡± said Nic, ¡°but falsehoods attract them. They like to play with them.¡±


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s plainly ridiculous,¡± said Brill. ¡°Why would he want to attract a demon? I mean, where does he think he¡¯s even going to find¡­¡± His voice trailed off as he caught sight of Davo and Fanny, their faces aghast.


    ¡°Why would he do that?¡± Davo burst out.


    ¡°Is he crazy?¡± asked Fanny, equally appalled by what Nic had just said.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think so,¡± said Nic. ¡°I think he¡¯s just curious.¡±


    ¡°Could you suggest he not be?¡± asked Fanny.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong with the two of you?¡± asked Brill. ¡°Are you suggesting there¡¯s an actual¡­¡± He lost his words again and sat down with a bump. Of course. It made so much more sense now. A demon.


    Brill became aware of Nic looking at him, and the brilliant, razor-sharp boy seemed to soften. Just for a moment, Brill saw something like pity. No, nothing as harsh as that. He was being looked down on, but kindly.


    ¡°It¡¯s obviously an exercise,¡± said Nic. ¡°He can¡¯t tell us what he¡¯s doing because that would defeat the point of it. He¡¯s testing us without exam papers and time limits.¡±


    Brill nodded. It made sense. It would be a simple and elegant way to teach a group of bright children the ways of Arcanum. How you turned a mass of confusion into a sharp, pointed thought that could cut through stone. Or something like that. You didn¡¯t need to understand it to believe that was what he was doing.


    That¡¯s what made it so clever. And also so clearly untrue. He had seen how they had reacted, the fear and the exhilaration. That wasn¡¯t the kind of excitement an exercise could produce. A demon might, though. A real one.


    He understood what Davo meant now. He was on the same running track, but he was being lapped, again and again.


    He didn¡¯t feel as magnanimous in his interpretation as Davo. He simmered with indignation. Arrogant and conceited, he thought, then immediately, oh, give me sense to be patient. It was as glorious as it was ridiculous. Three boys deciding the fate of the entire world between them. Without fear or alarm. Like seasoned soldiers planning their next campaign.


    ¡°I wonder what my father would do if he thought there was a demon on campus,¡± said Brill to no one in particular.


    Nic stood with his hands in his pocket, his head tilted to one side as though considering all possible outcomes.


    ¡°If he thought you were truly in danger, he would remove you from here and make sure you were very far away.¡±


    Thank you, thought Brill. Thank you for the invitation, and the warning. Come if you wish, the invitation read, but come alone. How could he resist?


    A demon. How was that even possible? A demon could change the course of history. It could grant unlimited power. And it could destroy everything it found offensive to its eyes.


    Brill sighed and looked into the fire Davo had been building up. ¡°Are we going to die?¡± he asked the flames.


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Nic. ¡°Eventually.¡±


    That snapped Brill out of his morbid reverie. ¡°I didn¡¯t take you for a smart Alec.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± said Davo. ¡°You thought the know-it-all wouldn¡¯t be a smart Alec? You may have failed the exercise before we¡¯ve even started.¡±Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    ¡°If that¡¯s his true nature,¡± said Brill, ¡°he has shown remarkable restraint so far.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± said Davo. ¡°His consideration for others is his most sickening quality.¡±


    ¡°I am in the room, you know?¡± said Nic.


    ¡°This is fantastic,¡± said Fanny. He had laid out the contents of the box on the rug. An assortment of small objects that made no sense to Brill. It was every kind of junk and none of it of any practical use, as far as he could tell.


    Fanny went to his room and returned with a herbal detector. Brill was sure that¡¯s what it was, but he had no idea why he¡¯d been allowed to keep one in his room, or why.


    ¡°Whatever Mr Denkne¡¯s up to,¡± said Fanny as he opened the wooden box and began inserting new parts into it, ¡°he only has magic on his side. We, on the other hand, have this.¡± He held up the detector which had wires hanging out of it.


    ¡°How marvellous,¡± said Davo. ¡°What is it? The key to our self-destruction?¡±


    ¡°This is technology. This is the future.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll take that as a yes,¡± said Davo.


    ¡°You have no faith, Davo. Luckily, you won¡¯t need any.¡± Fanny twisted a knob and there was a high-pitched squeal.


    Shouts came from two corners of the room, followed by thumps in the same corners.


    Fanny turned off the detector and dropped it on the chair. ¡°Sorry, sorry.¡± He had his hands raised and kept turning so he faced one corner, then the other. ¡°Sorry, it was an accident. Please don¡¯t be mad, I want to live.¡±


    Brill could make no sense of what had just happened. Davo was laughing into his hand while Nic tried to reassure Fanny that he was in no danger of being executed.


    It dawned on him what that meant. Secret Service agents. In the room. Only the most important students merited that kind of surveillance. Had Nic achieved the same level of importance as a prince or the child of some powerful family? Were they here to protect him or stop him?


    He felt very much an outsider. What did they know? What was the extent of their knowledge? How could they hope to prevail against something as vicious and cold-hearted as a demon?


    ¡°You know, you might consider recruiting a fifth,¡± said Brill. ¡°Miss Delcroix is actually¡ª¡±


    The look cut him dead. ¡°No.¡± Nic¡¯s eyes were filled with such overbearing conviction, Brill was suddenly very willing to believe there was a demon on campus, and that it was in the room with him.


    ¡°Under no circumstances is Dizzy to be involved. You understand?¡± There was no softness in his voice, no openness to the counsel of others.


    ¡°As you wish,¡± said Brill. ¡°It was merely a suggestion.¡±


    This wasn¡¯t rivalry or a wish to domineer. He wanted to protect her. Her!


    Brill had known Delzina Delcroix since she first came to Ransom at ten years old. Her first day had left every girl in class so cowed they were unable to make eye contact, with her or each other. Then she¡¯d started on the boys.


    She always allowed others position and status over her, but everyone knew their place. Her gift to those who accepted their role beneath her was to leave them alone. It was a bargain most were only too happy to make.


    If the stakes were truly as high as he thought, she was an obvious choice. Never had he seen someone act protective of the most ruthless person he had ever encountered. What kind of person would think to protect a pit viper?


    ¡°Is this what your presentation project is going to be on?¡± Davo asked Fanny. ¡°I can see you bringing the house down with your demonstration. And not in a good way.¡±


    Fanny had calmed down once he realised he wasn¡¯t going to be carted off for daring to attack the King¡¯s Own. ¡°I just need a little help with fine-tuning. I¡¯m going to ask Miss Daffly to be my project supervisor.¡±


    ¡°Herbology?¡± said Davo. ¡°Good idea. Give this whole technology farrago a wide berth.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s a trained technician,¡± said Fanny holding up the detector. ¡°She¡¯s the one who showed me how to open one of these in the first place. You shouldn¡¯t judge people so easily.¡±


    Davo raised a contemptuous eyebrow. ¡°It¡¯s not her I¡¯m judging.¡±


    ¡°Have you already applied to Denkne?¡± Nic asked Brill.


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Brill. ¡°I thought it best to¡­¡± He realised then that his instant decision to steal a march on the other prospective candidates for the Arts Course by handing in his application so quickly may not have been quite the prescient move he had thought.


    If Nic was correct and Mr Denkne was playing some elaborate game, having him as a supervisor, eminently qualified as he was, would not serve Brill well. He would certainly have all the answers Brill might want, but that was of limited value if he insisted on only giving out false and misleading information.


    ¡°That¡¯s good,¡± said Nic. ¡°He¡¯s worth staying close to. Whatever his reasons for being so uncooperative, there are still ways of getting the truth out of him. We should be able to manage him between us.¡±


    Despite having serious doubts about being able to manage a mage of the Royal College, Nic¡¯s words did bolster Brill¡¯s slipping confidence. Even with no assistance whatsoever, he could still produce a noteworthy presentation. The point of taking Denkne as his supervisor was purely to augment his prospects, and that could still prove true. Assuming he handled the situation to his advantage.


    ¡°And I assume you¡¯ll be going with Cromnym?¡± Nic said to Davo.


    ¡°Presumptuous as ever. But correct.¡±


    That made sense. Mr Cromnym taught Economic Analysis. He would be a good fit for someone like Davo.


    Nic, hands still in pockets, made for his own room. ¡°I suppose I better get my proposal written up. As soon as I think of one.¡±


    The others muttered their agreement and retired to their own rooms. Did anyone really believe Nic didn¡¯t already know exactly what he was going to put forward as his central thesis? Brill was entirely sure that he did.


    There was one question in Brill¡¯s mind he hadn¡¯t asked, even though it was easily the most insistent. Why should they be the ones to deal with such a huge threat?


    Even if Nic was an extremely smart and capable boy, he was still a boy. There were bound to be far more suitable people who could handle this sort of thing far better.


    Brill sat on the small bed in a room a quarter the size of his bedroom at home and pondered over the matter.


    Nic was at the centre of whatever was happening. The arrival of a mage, the Secret Service Agents, the Archmage appearing on the back of the most powerful dragon in Ranvar¡­ it all suggested the clever boy with top grades wasn¡¯t just a wildly adventurous opportunist looking to make a name for himself. That didn¡¯t fit the boy¡¯s profile at all.


    Everyone was sitting back, giving Nic the space to cause trouble. They were using him as bait.


    For whatever reason, a demon had chosen him as its target. That made Nic very valuable. Brill couldn¡¯t see those in power just preventing any meeting taking place, they would probably encourage it. The first demon to appear in a thousand years.


    They would wait, and watch.


    And what would Nic do? Simply allow himself to be a sacrifice for the greater good? That didn¡¯t seem likely. He would try to prepare himself. He couldn¡¯t avoid the risk, but he could, perhaps, turn it to his advantage. Demons could be bound. Brill¡¯s own knowledge about demons was limited to storybooks and old myths, but he knew they were vulnerable to a sharp mind. And Nic certainly had one of those.


    But he was still only a boy, and Brill remembered the old stories well. The men who were mages only in name, drawn by the smell of power the way hungry animals are drawn to the scent of blood, came to bind the demons to their wills. They came with books of instruction and refined Arcanum and braziers to burn them in, and they found the power couldn¡¯t be taken so easily. What they did manage to take, would not be owned. It came when they called, but it would not be bound and when the men refused to give up, it bound them all.


    It was a story taught to all children, the Parable of the First Failed Mages. A reminder that when you hunt to feed your hunger, your prey is also hungry.


    Brill lay in his bed, unable to sleep, thinking about what a servile demon would allow you to achieve. He was also conscious of his own desire to be involved in such a perilous undertaking. Whatever the outcome, he was unlikely to benefit, not directly.


    But he couldn¡¯t deny his urge to be a participant. To be present, if only as a witness. He may well have been underestimating the danger, and would regret allowing his curiosity to get the better of him, but it was doubtful he would ever have another opportunity like this one.


    He had been surprised when he¡¯d been allowed to move into the cottage, with three boys whose presence he knew his father considered a nuisance. He had expected an argument and strong disapproval of the idea. An immediate rejection of his request would not have surprised him. But his prepared counter-arguments had not been needed. Permission was granted without the inquest he had envisaged.


    He had assumed his father had wanted someone to keep an eye on the three Also-Rans. A way to avert future mischief from taking place. Now he wondered how much his father really knew about what was happening here.


    The following morning they went to breakfast and no more was said on the subject of demons. They had things to do and results took time.


    There was only one class, and then free periods until after lunch. They had much more time to themselves, to prepare their presentations and to research their subjects, with the help of their supervisors.


    Brill decided to pay his father a visit, both because he hadn¡¯t seen him in a few days and it was only polite, and also to gauge his mood.


    His father was an easy man to read, at least for his son. He wore his emotions high on his sleeve. He would no doubt question Brill about his new living environment, and his questions would reveal his concerns. Nic was right about one thing. If his father knew about the demon, he would never have allowed Brill anywhere near the place.


    He went up to his father¡¯s office in the administration building, enjoying the familiar sound of his shoes sinking into the thick carpet. It was comforting after his time in the cottage. It was really quite unfair to subject the Also-Rans to such poor standards of accommodation simply to teach them their place. In addition to which, it clearly wasn¡¯t working.


    ¡°Brill¡­¡± said his father¡¯s secretary, smiling warmly as he approached her desk. He had known her his whole life and considered her practically his aunt.


    ¡°Miss Peregon,¡± said Brill, remaining formal while they were in school hours.


    ¡°Mr Epsteem,¡± she said, returning the courtesy, but retaining the smile. ¡°What can I do for you?¡±


    ¡°I was hoping to catch my father, if he has a moment.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure he¡¯ll make time, but you¡¯ll have to wait.¡± She nodded past him.


    Brill turned to find another student was waiting to see his father, seated on the settee between two potted ferns. ¡°Miss Delcroix,¡± he said, politely dipping his head.


    Her own head bobbed slightly, but she kept staring straight ahead, no other movement. She wasn¡¯t ignoring him, she was deep in thought and had nothing else to say. He had known her long enough to understand her moods, all of them well worth avoiding. She was concentrating, formulating her plans. He hoped very much they didn¡¯t involve him.


    It wasn¡¯t surprising that she was here. She often called on the Headmaster to demand things and insist on changes. His father often complained about her outrageous behaviour over dinner. He wouldn¡¯t be there to hear what this latest petition was in regard to.


    He sat down on the other end of the settee. The secretary busied herself, occasionally looking up and making eye contact with him.


    ¡°You did well.¡±


    Brill turned his head to the other end of the settee. She was still staring ahead. ¡°I did?¡± There was no response. ¡°I¡¯m not sure what you¡¯re referring to, but it sounds like a compliment, so thank you.¡±


    ¡°You saw there was something happening, and you repositioned yourself to take advantage, should that become an option. I was slow to see it. Kudos.¡±


    It was mildly infuriating to be pinned down with such little regard. No inquiry, no wish to hear his intentions. She was informing him of her assessment of his actions, as though that was the only relevant perspective.


    He kept his mouth shut. To provoke her would only encourage a painful confrontation. Painful for him.


    ¡°I want you to convince them to include me.¡±


    ¡°Include you in what?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know, and I don¡¯t care. Speak to them on my behalf.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t,¡± said Brill.


    ¡°You won¡¯t?¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t, but even if I did, he would say no. He¡¯s already made that very clear. He has forbidden any of us involving you.¡±


    She turned her head, looking at him for the first time. He made sure to not return the gaze. ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Because he fears for your safety.¡±


    He could feel her rage shaking the settee they shared. It was a little juvenile to inflame her, but he couldn¡¯t resist, especially as it wasn¡¯t him she was mad at.


    The Headmaster¡¯s door opened and both their heads turned towards it. Nic exited, closed the door behind him, and walked past them. He stopped just as he reached the secretary¡¯s desk and turned to face them.


    ¡°Um, you wanted me to tell you who I was going to elect as my supervisor for the project presentation.¡±


    ¡°Yes?¡± she said emotionlessly, all signs of anger wiped away.


    ¡°I¡¯ve chosen the Headmaster.¡±


    Brill was taken by surprise. His father had been a fine teacher and was eminently qualified, but he hadn¡¯t taken a class since before Brill had been born. And more to the point, what kind of person asked the Headmaster to be their supervisor? He was the Headmaster!


    ¡°Why?¡± asked Brill. ¡°What will you be presenting?¡±


    ¡°Hmm? Oh, I¡¯m going to do a paper on the effectiveness of the Ranvar educational system. Your father seemed the most appropriate member of the faculty.¡±


    Brill had thought they were both going to choose Denkne and work on him in tandem. That would have made it much easier to work out what his true intentions were, but now it seemed he was being left to operate alone in uncharted waters with a trickster shark. He was about to ask many more question when a cold, hard voice interrupted his panicked thoughts.


    ¡°Sounds fascinating. The Headmaster as your supervisor. I don¡¯t think anyone¡¯s thought of asking him before. A prestigious choice. You always did prefer a firm hand on the tiller.¡±


    Brill watched Nic closely. He seemed very calm, almost unresponsive. The Delcroix girl was equally still, but her eyes shone like gems.


    The door opened again and the Headmaster appeared. He had a word with his secretary and then turned towards them.


    ¡°Miss Delcroix, nice to see you again. I¡¯ve looked over your proposal and everything looks to be in order.¡±


    She stood up. ¡°Thank you, Headmaster. I¡¯ll schedule our first meeting for next week.¡±


    He saw it then, a ripple across Nic¡¯s placid surface. ¡°You also¡­¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± she said. ¡°It seemed the obvious choice. Perhaps we should combine our meetings, so as to not waste too much of the Headmaster¡¯s time.¡± She didn¡¯t wait for a response, just turned and walked away.


    Nic stared after her, unable to react.


    Brill looked up at his face. She had outsmarted him, predicted his move and stayed ahead of him. He was shaking. Would he be angry that she had outwitted him, or just crushed? It was neither of those. It was altogether more startling. He was smiling warmly, like he was proud of her. Was he insane? If she saw that look, she¡¯d rip his eyes out.


    ¡°I¡¯ll see you later,¡± Nic said, and wandered off like he wasn¡¯t sure where he was going.


    ¡°Brillard?¡±


    ¡°Sorry, yes?¡±


    ¡°Come in, boy, come in. I have lots of questions.¡±


    Brill nodded and followed his father into his office thinking, that¡¯s all I have, too.

 Chapter Thirty Five

    Afternoons were taken up with sorting out the presentation for the end of term. Students were left to their own devices, the only requirement being to make an appointment to see their supervisor at least once a week.


    Morning classes became more relaxed and informal. There were no tests to prepare for, and the teachers set no homework. Instead, they would lead discussions on topics that had already been covered, looking at things from a different perspective.


    What would you have made of a battle from the losing side?


    What was the reason Arcanum fields were the primary measurement of magic rather than grid intensity or point topography?


    Why were the Ministries more effective than a democratic system of government, like that of many of Ranvar¡¯s neighbours?


    The idea was to give students a fuller idea of each subject. Nic saw it more as a way to convince the students that the bias in the way they were taught was there for a good reason. It didn¡¯t matter if you were only given partial facts if what you were told was correct, and what you weren¡¯t, wasn¡¯t.


    Nic mainly kept quiet during discussions. He had made the mistake of speaking his mind the first time he was called on, and the conversation came to a rather abrupt halt. It served no purpose to point out the flaws in an argument if the flaws were the reason for the argument in the first place. After that he kept his contributions succinct and aimed in the direction the teacher was clearly trying to shepherd the class.


    The idea of encouraging students to think for themselves and to look at topics from different angles was a good one, generally speaking. But Nic had no need for encouragement in that direction, especially the kind of encouragement that pushed you through every angle until you came back to the first one.


    Classes weren¡¯t very interesting for Nic, but they gave him time to think and consider his options. He had a presentation to prepare, like everyone else, but he didn¡¯t see it as very important. His reasons for excelling had drifted away and he was left with a need to make all that learning mean something.


    ¡°It¡¯s such a lovely day,¡± said Mr Denkne, ¡°it seems an awful waste to sit in this room with our noses in textbooks, doesn¡¯t it?¡±


    Denkne¡¯s teaching style was never conventional, but he had eased off on the blatant lying, at least as far as Nic could tell. His words were often sarcastic or obtuse, but he fell short of the kind of misinformation he was peddling when he first arrived. Nic still wasn¡¯t sure the reason behind his odd behaviour, but Denkne¡¯s class on Arcanum Analysis was the one class where Nic remained fully alert.


    ¡°What say we go outside and try to attain a better idea of what Arcanum means by staring up at the sky?¡± Denkne smoothed his white hair, which was already slicked back without a single strand out of place. ¡°Who knows what mysteries might unfold with the passing clouds.¡±


    ¡°There aren¡¯t any clouds, sir,¡± said Brill. He was always keen to engage on any topic. To Nic, he always seemed most at home when conversing with teachers, even when they were as strange as Denkne.


    ¡°Are you sure?¡± asked Denkne, extending the words like he was asking a teasing riddle.


    Brill leaned to one side to get a glimpse out of a window, and then leaned back to an upright position. ¡°Yes, sir. It¡¯s a crisp, blue sky without the slightest hint of water vapour.¡±


    Denkne smiled sadly and shook his head. ¡°The youth of today¡­ no sense of adventure. Does it really matter if there are clouds or not? This obsession with ¡®facts¡¯ is going to get you nowhere.¡±


    ¡°May I ask you a question, sir?¡± said Brill. ¡°It¡¯s related to the lesson.¡±


    ¡°Frankly, I would have preferred if it weren¡¯t, but go ahead, ask your question, Mr Epsteem.¡±


    ¡°What you said about facts, it made me wonder why demons were so fixated on the truth. Everything I¡¯ve ever read about them indicated the truth mattered more to them than anything. Something of an obsession, one might say.¡±


    Nic stiffened in his chair. Brill was aware of Denkne¡¯s little forays into falsehoods. They had decided not to confront him about it¡ªor, rather, Nic had told the others not to, and they hadn¡¯t disagreed. Brill was clearly trying to provoke some kind of response on the matter.


    It wasn¡¯t like Nic had forbidden them. He had no real idea what the consequences of provoking the mage would be. Safer for them to not find out, in his estimation. But if someone decided to take the risk, it was hardly his place to stop them. Plus, there was every chance he might learn something from their sacrifice.


    ¡°An obsession,¡± said Denkne. ¡°Yes, one might say that. It¡¯s not a particularly difficult thing to understand. It¡¯s not that they venerate the truth, as much as they have learned to use the truth to their advantage. It¡¯s a form of power, and who doesn¡¯t enjoy power?¡±


    It was interesting that Denkne spoke of demons as a real and present thing, rather than near-mythical entities no one had seen in a thousand years. Nic wondered if that was deliberate or merely a slip of the tongue.


    ¡°Truth is power?¡± asked Brill. ¡°In the way knowledge is power?¡±


    ¡°Not quite.¡± Denkne stood up picked up a pencil from his desk. ¡°Pencil.¡± He said it slowly and moved the pencil around so the everyone could see it. ¡°Pencil.¡±


    He sat down on the edge of the desk and put the pencil out of sight behind his back. He folded his arms across his chest.


    ¡°Pencil. What do you see? You see a pencil, correct? Maybe the one I showed you, maybe a similar one, but you see what I want you to see. Language, in many ways, is a kind of magic.¡±


    He paused to let mild confusion permeate the room. Everyone understood what he was saying, of course, they just had no idea why he was saying it.


    He reached across the desk and picked up a fountain pen. He held it up to show everyone. It was big and black, not dissimilar the one in Nic¡¯s pocket.


    ¡°Pencil. Pencil.¡± He said it twice slowly, and then put the pen behind him. ¡°Now, when I say ¡®pencil,¡¯ what do you see?¡±


    A murmur went around the class.


    ¡°Don¡¯t get hung up on the question¡ªI¡¯m sure you all know what a pencil is. The point I¡¯m making is how easy it is to introduce doubt. Even when you know the truth, you can be made to question yourself, to consider allowing another¡¯s definition to supplant your own. And it isn¡¯t beyond the realm of possibility that I might even convince some of the more feeble-minded among you that this¡ª¡± he produced the pen in his hand like a conjuring trick ¡°¡ªis the same as this.¡± The pencil appeared in his other hand.


    There was more murmuring, but no real understanding of what Denkne was getting at. Nic was only too aware of the point being made, and it was making him very uncomfortable.


    ¡°What would it take to really convince you of an untruth? A little browbeating? A little torture? A little Arcanum, perhaps? There are many ways to break a person¡¯s mind, to snap it in twain, so they see what you want them to see. There is no ¡®The Truth,¡¯ only your truth, and my truth. We can share them, we can keep them separate, or, if we let our guard down, we can lose them. Do you understand the value of truth now, Mr Epsteem?¡±


    Brill had one hand on his chin, squeezing so his lips pursed as he considered what he¡¯d been told. ¡°The value of truth¡­ depends on whose truth it is?¡±


    ¡°Exactly, Mr Epsteem. You catch on very quickly. Far quicker than the demons, fortunately for us. Yes, if you lose sight of the truth, you become vulnerable. And how often do we lie to ourselves, wanting the lie to be true? The parent who is told their child is a bully and dullard, but refuses to believe it. The head of a ministry who is convinced enemies are plotting in the shadows. How easy it would be to nudge those beliefs as you saw fit. If you had the power, and the inclination.¡±


    ¡°And demons used this to create magic?¡± asked Brill.


    ¡°No, no, not the demons. They were not aware of what they possessed. This was something we discovered. This was how we created a door to push demons through. Away, away.¡± Denkne slapped his hands together and the pen and pencil disappeared. ¡°You can¡¯t think of demons in the same way as you think of people. Demons are inexplicable, Mr Epsteem. Demons are born of rock and light and air, as people are born from the womb.


    ¡°They are like spirits but not, like souls but not. Perhaps they possess the same insubstantial essence as a person, but maybe all things have that¡ªa tree or rock or plant is equally a living thing. Living doesn¡¯t require breathing and eating, it only requires being. You exist, you live. And then you don¡¯t exist, and then you are dead. And even then, maybe you just exist somewhere else.¡±


    ¡°But how did we manage to defeat them?¡± asked Brill.


    ¡°Perhaps we didn¡¯t. Are we in Ravar so special? Are we completely unique and superior to all others? We alone, of all peoples, achieved dominion over Arcanum. We sneer at our weaker neighbours, but who are we to claim divine power? These things never end with a simple loss or victory.¡±


    The class was a little unsettled by Denkne¡¯s words. They¡¯d never heard a teacher talk in such a fashion.


    ¡°You make them sound like gods,¡± said Brill, his voice much quieter now, like he feared being overheard.


    ¡°Gods? No. They entertain neither theology nor godhead nor faith nor ethics. They do not create, because all creation is completed. They do not judge, because nothing that is true can be wrong. When demons first came here, they arrived with an immense amount of power, certainly. God-like, one might say, but not gods.¡± Denkne smiled like he¡¯d thought of something immensely amusing that he couldn¡¯t share. ¡°They could shape their environment to be anything they wished, but they had no concept of words. They had a language, but their conversations consisted of mountains and valleys. Literally. Forest would grow and die as a simple form of greeting. The great subtleties of words and ideas, of stories, these were what allowed us to meet them as equals, even though we most certainly were not. It¡¯s what enabled us to¡­ convince them to share their power.¡±


    Nic had caught the hesitation, had seen the word buried underneath. Denkne had been about to say tricked. The demons had been tricked into sharing their power. Hardly a sign of the divine, but a clear cause for resentment.


    ¡°Stories have power?¡± asked Brill.


    ¡°Of course,¡± said Denkne expansively, spreading out his arms. ¡°What can be more powerful than creating your own reality and inviting others into it? To see it, to live it, to be trapped inside it, unable to escape the whims of the author. Many people have died listening to a well-told story.¡±


    The class was quiet as they thought over what Denkne had said.


    ¡°You know,¡± said Denkne, ¡°I do so enjoy these little chats. You never get a chance to talk about such things at the Royal College. Everyone already knows everything. Here, I feel I¡¯m sharing something special. Opening your eyes to new possibilities. Now, shall we go look at the clouds.¡±


    ¡°There still aren¡¯t any clouds, sir,¡± said Brill.


    ¡°Are you sure, Mr Epsteem?¡±


    Brill leaned towards the window. ¡°Oh, I think I see one.¡±


    The students began muttering excitedly, as though something incredible had happened, but it could just as easily have been an innocuous change in the weather. Denkne sat on his desk, tapping pen against pencil.


    ***


    ¡°I¡¯m making a lot of progress already,¡± said Fanny over lunch. ¡°Now that I have a supervisor and a bunch of equipment, it really feels like I¡¯m on the right path.¡±


    ¡°How interesting,¡± said Davo. ¡°Please tell us more about the special screws you now have access to. I hear the thirty-millimetre ones are much more precise than the sixty.¡±


    ¡°You have a hardware department at your dad¡¯s place, don¡¯t you?¡± said Fanny, in between chewing his food.


    ¡°If by ¡®your dad¡¯s place¡¯ you mean Conoling and Son, finest purveyors of luxury goods in Ranvar, then yes, we have a hardware department.¡±


    ¡°Can you get me a box of the thirty-millimetre? Zinc coated? Or do you think it would be better without the coating and stick with the forty-five?¡±


    Davo paused for a moment, taking a long breath through his aquiline nose. ¡°When I said I wished to discuss the matter of screws in more depth, I was being sarcastic.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s your mistake,¡± said Fanny. ¡°Sarcasm only works if you don¡¯t mean it. Weren¡¯t you paying attention in class? Nothing trumps the truth.¡±


    ¡°What about you?¡± Davo said to Brill. ¡°Care to share your expertise in carpentry?¡±


    Brill shook his head. ¡°I believe there¡¯s no point becoming an expert in something you can pay someone to do for you?¡±


    ¡°Clearly,¡± said Davo, ¡°that is an idiotic thing to believe.¡±


    Brill put down his knife and fork and clasped his palms together. ¡°How is it whenever Mr Tutt speaks, his words are considered the epitome of wisdom, but I make a passing comment and my feet are immediately held to the coals for it?¡±


    ¡°The answer to that question,¡± said Davo, ¡°is self-evident. Are you feeling underappreciated? Does the bitter chill of resentment make your gorge rise? It needn¡¯t. He isn¡¯t even listening to us.¡± Davo nodded towards Nic who had his chin resting on the heel of his palm, staring into the mid-distance.


    ¡°I have no doubt,¡± said Brill, ¡° that he is listening to every word, while simultaneously working on a means to divide the universe in half, and collect whatever falls out in a handbasket. However, that was not my point. Yes, I am full of resentment, but only because I thought we would all choose Master Denkne as our project supervisor, and so, together, we would unravel his baffling proclamations and motivations. Instead, I alone am left to wrangle with his mystifying actions, words and, on occasion, theatrical asides. Meanwhile, the three of you proceed to carry on like larks enjoying the last days of summer. Tra-la-la.¡±


    Brill picked up his fork and began eating his pasta again, aggressively.


    ¡°He seems upset,¡± said Fanny. ¡°Abandonment issues due to being an only child, I expect. The pompous whining is a dead give away.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m also an only child,¡± said Davo.


    ¡°I know,¡± said Fanny.


    ¡°I¡¯m thinking about my presentation,¡± said Nic. The others stopped their squabbling and looked at him. ¡°What? Didn¡¯t one of you just ask what I was thinking about?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said Davo. ¡°But the terrifying thing is that I was about to. What are you planning?¡±


    ¡°Nothing. It doesn¡¯t make much difference. It¡¯s not like I¡¯m looking to get on the Arts Course. I just need to come up with something that¡¯s¡­ an efficient use of time.¡±


    ¡°You aren¡¯t going to upstage us all, are you?¡± asked Brill with a resigned air. ¡°Claim you¡¯re going to do the bare minimum, and then produce a stage full of magic lights and dancing horses.¡±Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.


    ¡°No,¡± said Nic, not really knowing how to answer such an accusation. ¡°No dancing horses.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think he¡¯d do something underhanded like that,¡± said Davo. ¡°I can, however, see him suddenly having a change of heart at the eleventh hour, and the next thing you know, there¡¯s a stallion in a tutu standing in the wings, waiting to put on a show-stopping performance.¡±


    Fanny began giggling. ¡°Stallion in a tutu.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not¡ª¡±


    Davo raised a hand to cut Nic off. ¡°Intentions are no guarantee of anything.¡±


    ¡°Stallion in a tutu,¡± repeated Fanny. Then he began choking on his food. Davo slapped him on the back and Brill poured him some water.


    A chair scraped out from under the table and all four boys stopped what they were doing, including choking, as Dizzy sat down at the end of the small table. She had a tray of food that was mainly comprised of olives. Which was odd, Nic thought, since olives weren¡¯t on the menu.


    They waited for her to say something, but she didn¡¯t even look at them. She just started eating.


    ¡°Do you think she sat down at the wrong table by accident?¡± said Fanny, wheezing slightly. His face had reddened during the choking, and had stayed that colour.


    ¡°She doesn¡¯t do anything by accident,¡± said Nic.


    There was a slight pause as Dizzy speared her next olive with her fork, but otherwise there was no reaction. Around them, there was some shifting of gazes as the other diners became aware of a new member of the corner table.


    ¡°You¡¯re drawing a lot of attention,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°Am I?¡± said Dizzy without looking up. ¡°Does it make you uncomfortable when people are watching you?¡±


    ¡°People are always watching me,¡± said Nic. ¡°Now they¡¯re watching you, too.¡±


    Brill rose from his seat, picked up his tray, and walked around Nic to sit down again on his other side. ¡°Never get between a gun and its target.¡±


    ¡°Wise words,¡± said Davo.


    ¡°Really? Thank you.¡±


    ¡°Glaringly obvious,¡± said Davo, ¡°but indisputable.¡±


    ¡°Couldn¡¯t even let me have that, could you?¡± said Brill, sagging a little at the shoulders.


    ¡°Who are you really looking for validation from?¡± asked Fanny, leaning towards Brill. ¡°Is it your father? The want for a father¡¯s love often leads an only child to act recklessly.¡±


    Davo coughed. Fanny looked at him, and then blushed even redder. He slowly turned his head to face Dizzy, who was now looking up. At him. Intensely.


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t talking about¡­ I mean, his father¡¯s the head, and when your father¡¯s in a position of authority it often¡­ I mean, not your father, I mean all our fathers, well, not all of them, but , erm¡­ Pasta¡¯s a bit undercooked, don¡¯t you think?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t eat pasta,¡± said Dizzy slowly. There was no pasta on her plate.


    ¡°No?¡± said Fanny, glad to have changed the subject. ¡°Does it make you gassy?¡±


    Davo shook as he tried to contain his laughter. The glow from Fanny¡¯s face could have powered a blacksmith¡¯s furnace.


    Dizzy turned her head to look at Nic. ¡°You keep company with some strange people.¡±


    Nic looked past her. ¡°So do you.¡± Standing on the far side of the hall, the two tall boys who were never too far from Dizzy¡¯s side stood watching, eyes riveted on Nic¡¯s table as they had been since Dizzy first sat down.


    A strong memory of what they¡¯d done to Mallory hit him. Mallory, who hadn¡¯t returned this term.


    Nic¡¯s attention returned to Dizzy. ¡°If I see either of them near my friends, I¡¯m going to hold you accountable.¡±


    Dizzy flinched, taken aback by the change in Nic¡¯s demeanour. ¡°I don¡¯t control what the people around me do.¡±


    ¡°Then perhaps you should,¡± said Nic, locking eyes with her.


    ¡°Don¡¯t be ridiculous,¡± said Dizzy, looking away. ¡°I only came here to organise our schedules. Seeing as how we have the same supervisor, perhaps we should meet to coordinate our presentations. We wouldn¡¯t want to cover the same ground.¡±


    ¡°Couldn¡¯t you just guess what I¡¯m planning to do?¡± asked Nic.


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t like to presume,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°Shall we meet in the library? I understand you have a private room, for some reason.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said Nic. ¡°We won¡¯t meet, and we won¡¯t coordinate anything. For some reason, your father¡¯s ministry, the Ranvar army and the Royal college have decided I¡¯m a person of interest. They need me. They don¡¯t need you. While I temporarily have their attention, I can ask them to assist me in removing any aggravations.¡± His eyes drifted back to the twins. ¡°If you, or your friends, continue to pester me, I¡¯ll invoke that courtesy, and I feel fairly confident my request would be granted. Stay way with your own kind, Miss Delcroix. Pretend I don¡¯t exist. It shouldn¡¯t be too hard for you.¡±


    Dizzy didn¡¯t say anything, didn¡¯t react or get angry. She finished the last of her olives, one by one. Nic watched, remembering how she would take the olives off his plate when they were children. Never asking, never needing to. Then she got up with her tray and walked off.


    ¡°She isn¡¯t going to listen to your threats,¡± said Fanny. ¡°It¡¯ll only make her more determined.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re an expert on how the female mind works now, are you?¡± said Davo.


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Fanny, ¡°somewhat. Unlike you, I have sisters, so, yes, I do have some insight into how the female mind works. It isn¡¯t pretty.¡±


    ¡°Really? I saw how deftly you handled Miss Delcroix earlier. Did that come from your years of research?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not joking,¡± said Fanny, his colouring returning to normal as his face clouded over. ¡°You¡¯ve only encouraged her to try harder, Nic.¡±


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t like she was going to stop anyway,¡± said Nic. ¡°At least this way she¡¯ll do it quicker.¡±


    ¡°Wait,¡± said Brill. ¡°You purposefully provoked her so you¡¯d be able to ask for an intervention sooner? Of all the... Truly, if unpleasant behaviour was a romantic virtue, the two of you would be made for each other. Urgh, but your children¡­ your children would be monsters.¡± Brill looked up, startled by his own words. ¡°My apologies, I didn¡¯t¡ª¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t apologise,¡± said Fanny. ¡°Truest thing you¡¯ve ever said.¡±


    ¡°Penetratingly astute,¡± said Davo.


    Brill watched them across the table in obvious anticipation of the slap across the face that inevitably followed one of their hard-won commendations. It never came.


    After lunch they walked to the library. Students were milling around, talking excitedly about their projects. Everyone was still in the early stages, using each other to sound out ideas, many too complex and outlandish to ever be put into practice.


    Nic was in a dour mood. He walked slightly behind the others, head slightly bowed, staring sullenly at the ground and his own feet. He could sense their concern, but he knew they wouldn¡¯t say anything. He hoped they would ascribe it to him being deep in thought about academic matters, or something relating to demons. He didn¡¯t want them to think he was fretting over a girl.


    It wasn¡¯t like he didn¡¯t have enough work to keep his mind busy. A good presentation was still something he wanted to produce. The test-taker in him wanted to do well, as always.


    The requirement was to see your supervisor once a week, but while plans were being formed, many of the students would see their assigned teacher more frequently. Nic had yet to arrange his first appointment with the Headmaster. He was worried Dizzy would find out when his meeting was, and somehow invite herself to join them. He had baited her into doing something like that, but now he didn¡¯t want to give her the opportunity.


    He knew he had lost his temper and treated Dizzy far harsher than necessary. He didn¡¯t doubt some harshness was required, but not the cold cruelty of his words. It hadn¡¯t entirely been acting.


    Was there some lingering resentment for the way she had treated him since his arrival at Ransom? He knew it wasn¡¯t her fault that she didn¡¯t share his feelings. Focusing his whole life on reaching her had been his decision, and he had known the possible consequences. Likely might be a better word. But the rejection still stung, and now he had hurt her back. Was that what had driven him to be so callous? Was that why he had felt a thrill of pleasure putting her in her place? Was that why he now felt ashamed?


    Being around her was confusing. He found it hardest to think clearly when she was within sight, but the threat to her had made things a lot more straightforward. He knew what he had to do, and so he did it. The fact he enjoyed it was what was troubling him.


    It was a small and petty way to behave, but it had to be done, he kept telling himself. She would have known if his vitriol had been manufactured. He wanted to believe the ease with which brutality came to him was because her safety was more important than the niceties of polite discourse. He knew her well, knew what it took to get a reaction. She wouldn¡¯t thank him for it, but it didn¡¯t matter how mad he made her. It only mattered that he kept her away from danger.


    Nic smiled to himself and kicked a stone off the path. He was trying to portray himself as the hero, acting out of noble purpose. It was hardly that. In truth, he wanted her to know he was saving her, to sob over his grave, knowing he had sacrificed himself for her. It was a morbid fantasy, and the solipsistic nature of it didn¡¯t please him. Petty and small.


    He had to be better. His thoughts needed to be clearer, his actions based on logic, not emotion. It wouldn¡¯t be a simple case of him forcing her into a position of his choosing¡ªshe would react and respond. He couldn¡¯t afford to let his guard down. At least she would be good training for him. Diabolical minds were hard to find and he was lucky to have one so close by to help him gain experience. The demons, by comparison, would probably be far easier to handle.


    Once they were ensconced in their private library room, Nic left to find more information on Ransom. He had chosen the school as his project on a whim. No, it was more than that. He wasn¡¯t foolish enough to think the reason he had become the focal point for such strange happenings was due to him. It wasn¡¯t he who was special, it was the school itself, he had just been the one to unearth it. Something about this place had drawn the demon here, had transported Simole, and was now bringing things to a head. All in this one place. A plan a thousand years in the making.


    The more he understood the origin of the school, the better his chance of understanding what was going on. Perhaps. It wasn¡¯t a whim, but it was very much a leap in the dark.


    The library was awash with students and he weaved his way to the main desk. He didn¡¯t have to turn his head to know Dizzy was sitting at her usual table, with her usual friends. Including the twins. Jealousy? Was that his true motivation? He studiously ignored her as he was sure she was doing likewise.


    The librarian was at her station, working on her books.


    ¡°Do you ever get to a stage where all the books are in good condition?¡± asked Nic as he watched her work.


    ¡°No. It¡¯s an endless cycle of healing old wounds as new wounds form. How can I help you, Mr Tutt?¡±


    ¡°I wanted to find books on Ransom. How it first came to be, and why.¡±


    ¡°There are plenty of books on the subject, I¡¯m surprised you need my assistance.¡±


    ¡°I wanted¡­¡± He stopped and looked around. The other students were too deeply involved in their own business to pay any heed to his. But then, they weren¡¯t the only eyes and ears that worried him. ¡°It¡¯s hard to study when there are so many people watching you.¡±


    The librarian carried on working on the binding of a large book bound in green leather. It didn¡¯t look dyed. He tried to think of animals with green skin. A crocodile?


    ¡°You know,¡± said the librarian, ¡°you seemed so alone when you first arrived. An island in the middle of a great ocean. And now look at you. The most popular boy in school.¡±


    Nic wasn¡¯t sure if she was mocking him, her face as implacable as ever. All the people who knew about the truth of what was happening at the school¡ªthe ministers, the mages, even the demon¡ªaffected an air of composure, but Nic could sense their deep unease. It didn¡¯t make a difference how prepared or confident, defeat was always possible. The thought had to sit somewhere. Not so with the librarian. She radiated the same nonchalance as the first day he met her. The books needed to be taken care of, everything else could mind itself.


    ¡°I do have friends now, but I wouldn¡¯t say I was the most popular.¡±


    ¡°Why, just the other day, I received multiple requests from various departments requesting permission to place agents on library premises, just to be closer to you. I refused, of course¡ªsuch things would be very disruptive¡ªbut it does show you how far you¡¯ve come.¡±


    ¡°They had to ask you for permission?¡± asked Nic, taken aback.


    ¡°Of course. It is a very old and longstanding tradition that the library grounds are sacrosanct. I say tradition, but of course it is all written down somewhere. An ancient pact between the royal house and the first librarian.¡±


    ¡°So, an agent of the government couldn¡¯t enter the library without your permission?¡±


    ¡°Uh-huh.¡± She lifted up the book and checked its spine.


    ¡°Not even, say, in the middle of the night?¡±


    ¡°Not even then. The library has its own defences.¡±


    Nic looked around, wondering what those defences were. He recalled coming here with a Secret Service agent in tow, and asking the agent to stay outside. The agent had complied, and now Nic understood why.


    ¡°That¡¯s very interesting. Thank you.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re welcome, Mr Tutt. I¡¯ll get you a list of books on Ransom that might be of use.¡± She walked off without once having looked up.


    Working on his presentation was surprisingly relaxing. It took his mind off his troubles and sank his thoughts into old tomes. The books the librarian had suggested were nothing to do with Ransom, but contained a few lines about the school, a paragraph at most. Books on construction, love letters between poets, sports almanacs. He felt like he was panning for gold with just as much chance of finding silver, or maybe even a diamond.


    They returned to the cottage after supper at the cafeteria. Nic sat on his bed, closed his eyes, and breathed. There was a demon somewhere in the dark. He had stopped trying to call it, but he could feel it watching him.


    Nic came out of his room after hearing some commotion, and found Fanny sitting in front of the fire, the other two standing over him.


    ¡°Fanny has moved on from mastering carpentry,¡± said Davo. ¡°He is now a master cartographer.¡±


    Fanny was sitting on a large sheet of paper like it was a picnic blanket. It was a map of the school, but rather than being centralised on the main school buildings, the centre point was their small cottage, with everything radiating outwards from there. There were also a large number of pins stuck in various buildings.


    ¡°That¡¯s very good,¡± said Nic. ¡°Is it to scale?¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± said Fanny. ¡°Has to be for my calculations to work.¡± He knocked on the top of the wooden detector by his side. ¡°With this, I can pinpoint every Secret Service agent on campus.¡±


    ¡°The pins?¡± asked Nic.


    Fanny nodded.


    There were a dozen pins spread across the map, and three in the cottage.


    ¡°Haven¡¯t you just told them we know where they are?¡± asked Brill.


    ¡°Aha!¡± said Fanny. ¡°That¡¯s where this comes in.¡± He took another wooden box and placed it on top of the first. ¡°I got the idea from what Nic said about going to see Mr Denkne in his bathtub.¡±


    ¡°Been thinking a lot about that, have you?¡± asked Davo.


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Fanny. ¡°You remember how he said the agents weren¡¯t able to hear them, that they were hearing an entirely different conversation?¡±


    ¡°You can do that?¡± said Brill, aghast.


    ¡°Well, no, I¡¯m not a mage. But I found a way to bounce around echoes of old conversations. Should make it impossible for them to hear us. All that in just a few days!¡±


    The three boys standing over the map looked at each other. It was an impressive accomplishment, for sure.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you think they¡¯ll notice?¡± asked Davo. ¡°Might make them a tad suspicious if all they hear is snippets of things from a few hours ago.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a prototype,¡± said Fanny defensively. ¡°Give me a chance, I¡¯ve only had a few days.¡±


    ¡°No, it¡¯s good,¡± said Nic. ¡°You better turn it off now, though, and keep the map out of sight. But it really is great. It¡¯ll come in really handy if there¡¯s an emergency and we need to talk in private.¡±


    ¡°What kind of emergency?¡± said Dav, rattled.


    ¡°Yes, what are you envisioning?¡± said Brill. ¡°Is it bad?¡±


    Nic spent the next five minutes reassuring them he had no premonition of disaster and went back to his room. He thought things over for the next few hours, then he got up and went to Fanny¡¯s room. It was late, but Fanny was still working on one his contraptions.


    ¡°Can you use one of your devices to find unusual Arcanum spikes?¡±


    ¡°On campus?¡± asked Fanny. ¡°Sure. I¡¯ve already done a sweep, though. Nothing stood out.¡±


    ¡°No, I mean in the opposite direction.¡±


    ¡°An Arcanum void? There¡¯s only one place like that on campus. The Pagoda.¡±


    ¡°The same as before?¡±


    ¡°Oh no,¡± said Fanny. ¡°Much less than before. It was zero before, now it¡¯s in the negative.¡±


    ¡°How can there be less than no Arcanum?¡±


    Fanny shrugged. ¡°The reading went negative. I don¡¯t know why?¡±


    ¡°Right, of course. Thanks.¡±


    Nic went back to his room and thought some more. If Simole was trying to reach him, and she couldn¡¯t get to him here, the Pagoda would be the next obvious choice. It was where she left from, it stood to reason that¡¯s where she would return.


    He left the cottage through his bedroom window. Not to throw off the agents¡ªthey wouldn¡¯t be fooled so easily now¡ªbut to avoid his roommates. He made his way to the library, and then around the back to where the Pagoda stood, cold and lifeless, ringed by lanterns on short posts. A sign forbidding entry hung on the door.


    He had an urge to go inside and check for¡­ he wasn¡¯t sure what. He was sure there were agents with him, even though he had seen no sign of them. He wasn¡¯t expecting to find anything in there, but he felt like he was missing something. Some part of the puzzle he¡¯d overlooked.


    The door was closed but unlocked. Not even a padlock. He took one of the lanterns and entered. He had expected an agent to materialise and stop him, but no one did.


    He carefully went down the stairs to the lower level, made his way through the rooms. They felt like they hadn¡¯t been used in a hundred years. What was he looking for?


    In the room where he had spoken with Tenner and Professor Veristotle, he sat down on the large chair and closed his eyes, letting his mind wander as he breathed slowly. He tried to think of Simole, and found it hard to remember what she looked like. Then he thought of the time they had been kneeling in front of the red mage, and she had winked at him, and her features came flooding back to him.


    ¡°Your friend is unable to reach you,¡± said a quiet voice in the back of his mind.


    Nic did his best to stay calm. ¡°Why can¡¯t she reach me?¡±


    ¡°She is lost. Would you like to help her find her way home?¡±


    Nic breathed in and out three times, slowing each time. ¡°Is she lost and looking for the way home, or lost, trying to lead others away?¡±


    There was a long pause which Nic used to slow his breathing even more.


    ¡°You have grown perceptive, little one.¡±


    ¡°You have grown lazy, old one.¡±


    ¡°And you have grown daring.¡± There was an amused, annoyed lilt to the voice. ¡°Why do you think me lazy?¡±


    He was being provocative, leaving himself open. He knew it, but when would he get a chance like this again? ¡°You say you wish to open the door, to allow your like to return here, but you spend your time hiding, waiting for others to do the work for you.¡±


    ¡°I see. Yes, a reasonable assessment, but you have limited information. I am a hard worker. Always striving. But the work is best done by those who are best suited to the task. There should be no hurry when it comes to doing things correctly. Don¡¯t you agree?¡±


    ¡°I agree,¡± said Nic. ¡°But when you want to be certain things are done correctly, it¡¯s best to check the work yourself. Especially when you approach the end.¡±


    ¡°Do you think we approach the end?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± said Nic hesitantly. Lies were a weakness, but what about uncertainty? ¡°I feel it¡¯s close.¡±


    ¡°I, too, feel it is close. But a sacrifice is still needed to prise the door open.¡±


    ¡°Am I the sacrifice?¡± asked Nic, unable to keep his voice from shaking.


    ¡°Who else? Especially after I worked so very hard to bring you here.¡±


    Now there was a playful laugh. Now Nic understood he had been tricked. The urge he felt to come to the Pagoda wasn¡¯t his. It was stupid not to have suspected, but the feeling had been so natural, so insistent. Would he have to learn to doubt his every instinct? Would he ever have the chance?


    He got up and ran.


    The earth began to shake.


    He felt his lungs about to burst, and every fiber of his being screamed panic. He tried to stand but could not. The rumbling, catastrophic roar was coming from above and below. It surrounded him until his eardrums were ready to split.


    He groped to his hands and knees as stones fell and the world tilted.


    The tremor stopped.


    The earth was firm again, firm as it had always been, firm as it always should be. And then everything tumbled down on top of him.

 Chapter Thirty Six

    The carriage thundered through the city¡¯s wide streets at a wildly dangerous and thoroughly illegal pace. A strict city ordinance prohibited anything beyond a moderate trot. Moderate was a word open to interpretation, as most of Ranvar¡¯s laws were designed to be, but there was no doubt that in this case, the law was being severely flouted.


    Common sense usually prevented such reckless behaviour. And if not, the obvious circumstances of a crowded city. Other vehicles made it hard to build up speed, and the pedestrians who freely crisscrossed the streets, posed too much of a danger, mainly to the horses.


    Well-bred mounts of the type used in the city were not trained like warhorses. Trampling over people could easily break a leg, rendering the horse useless. Why would anyone risk an expensive horse over arriving a few minutes early?


    The Ministry of Instruction crest on the side of the carriage answered most of these questions. Not with specifics, but with enough detail to render the questions moot. No one in their right mind would interfere with the black-liveried driver cracking his whip. Quite the contrary, in fact. Vehicles pulled to the side to allow the carriage to pass. Pedestrians stepped back from the kerb, while those already crossing hurried out of the way. And even if they had been caught mid-crossing, these particular horses were trained like warhorses. They knew how to trample with impunity.


    The morning rush that normally swamped the city streets, parted to leave the carriage¡¯s progress unimpeded. The windowless conveyance clattered through the tall iron gates set in high stone walls and crunched across the gravel-covered central courtyard of the palace. It stopped near the main entrance, which was flanked by soldiers in full military regalia.


    Servants were waiting to help the Minister disembark, but he was already out of the carriage before it had come to a full stop. He strode briskly along the cloistered walk of the main building, oblivious to the warm sunshine and zealous salutes, and turned the corner. He passed through arches into the innermost courtyard, which contained a fountain and a small garden, both of which had been repaired recently, although it would be hard to tell if you hadn¡¯t seen the devastation they had suffered.


    The antechamber door was open. There were no soldiers here. Not visible ones.


    Delcroix walked in and immediately felt a chill. The outer buildings surrounding the palace somehow affected to be several degrees colder within than without.


    ¡°Is he alone?¡± Delcroix asked.


    ¡°He is never alone,¡± said Monfoth, the Prince¡¯s faithful retainer. He was a small, benign, pockmarked man, who had been the King¡¯s most trusted vassal for over fifty years, and the Prince¡¯s after that. ¡°In addition to which, the Dove and the Hawk are in attendance. As well as the Peacock. Such a gathering does not bode well.¡±


    Delcroix smiled. What was it about trusted servants that made them so willing to sass their betters? Perhaps being in the perfect position to know exactly what kind of people their ¡®betters¡¯ were.


    ¡°You¡¯ve become an ornithologist as well as a loyal drudge? I wish I had the time for hobbies.¡±


    ¡°We make time for the things we love, Minister.¡±


    ¡°I wonder what bird you think of me as, Monfoth. A vulture, perhaps?¡±


    Monfoth grunted and rearranged his notes, which were forever held against the crook of his elbow. ¡°Nothing so vulgar, I assure you, Minister. I don¡¯t think of you as someone with a taste for carrion.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± said Delcroix, amused by the older man¡¯s bottomless deadpan. He walked towards the far door.


    ¡°Should I prepare for the end?¡± Monfoth called after him.


    Delcroix didn¡¯t answer. He knocked on the door.


    ¡°Come in.¡±


    A wood fire burned in a grate, illuminating the fine heavy furniture, dark with age and rich with polish and care. Prince Ranade, the most powerful man in Ranvar, had been a corpulent figure in his youth. Now he was lean and always looked hungry. He was seated in a high-backed leather chair in front of the fireplace.


    ¡°Delcroix,¡± he said. ¡°You¡¯ve found the boy?¡±


    ¡°No, Your Majesty. My agents are still looking.¡±


    The Prince scowled. ¡°I fail to understand how you people manage to lose a boy in the middle of a school. It even has a wall around it to keep the brats in.¡±


    ¡°Isn¡¯t it most likely that he¡¯s dead?¡± asked Reshvay. The Minister for War sat beside the Prince, his hooked nose in profile giving him a hawk-like appearance, although he was the one Monfoth referred to as The Dove.


    ¡°I think not,¡± said Delcroix. ¡°I would expect the effects of his death to be much more pronounced. And formidable.¡±


    ¡°He isn¡¯t dead,¡± said the Chief of Staff of the Secret Service, standing by the window. ¡°He¡¯s still on the school grounds, somewhere.¡±


    ¡°How would you know?¡± said Reshvay angrily. ¡°It was your damn men that lost him.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m well aware of that,¡± the Chief said coldly. ¡°Three of my men are still missing. We may not be able to locate him, but the school perimeter was considerably modified after the last¡­ incursion. If he had left the premises, we would know. No one has either entered or exited the grounds, of that I¡¯m sure.¡±


    ¡°Pah!¡± said Reshvay. ¡°The boy didn¡¯t neutralise three of your agents by himself. Clearly he had help. Which means someone got past your perimeter.¡±


    ¡°I am confident¡ª¡±


    ¡°Double Pah!¡±


    ¡°What do you say, Delcroix?¡± asked the Prince, his words immediately silencing the other two. ¡°Did someone assist him in disappearing? Perhaps the demon?¡±


    ¡°The demon may have been involved, Your Majesty,¡± said Delcroix, careful of his words. ¡°More than likely, I would say. But, the demon is not in a state to do much more than advise the boy. Maintaining a link between this world and the other place will have severely depleted its resources. The only reason we allowed the boy to continue to play the role of bait was knowing the demon¡¯s powers had been negated, more or less.¡±


    ¡°More or less,¡± repeated the Prince. ¡°And if not the demon, then whom? Could it have been this mage sent by the Royal College.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t believe so, Your Majesty,¡± said Delcroix. ¡°He is under observation, also. There have been no indications of his involvement.¡±


    ¡°I can confirm,¡± said the Chief. ¡°Surveillance on the mage was uninterrupted. We have him in his room all night. Nothing untoward happened, no use of magic.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s a mage isn¡¯t he,¡± blustered Reshvay. ¡°What¡¯s to say he didn¡¯t use his arts to bamboozle your agents?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re well aware of his abilities, assuming Minister Delcroix provided us with correct information.¡±


    ¡°Our information is completely accurate,¡± said Delcroix.


    The chief nodded. ¡°We have countermeasures in place which he is incognizant of. We make a point of keeping the Royal College uninformed of any advancements we make in that regard. I assure you, the mage was not involved. At least, not directly.¡±


    The room was silent.


    ¡°If I might speak,¡± said the other man in the room who had been sitting quietly in a chair by the far bookcase.


    ¡°Yes, Kuplas?¡± said the Prince.


    Foreign Minister Kuplas, dressed exquisitely and his hair trimmed only an hour or so ago, rose and sauntered forward. ¡°It seems the boy has either become incredibly powerful in the short time since he returned to Ransom¡ªwhich could be true, but strikes me as rather improbable¡ªor he has come into contact with someone capable of dealing with three Secret Service agents, and counteracting the most precise detection devices we have available.¡± He turned to Delcroix. ¡°You¡¯re sure the demon wouldn¡¯t have the capability?¡±


    ¡°Not currently,¡± said Delcroix.


    ¡°Then the only other conclusion would seem to be the Gweurians are involved.¡± He paused for any interjections. There weren¡¯t any. ¡°We know they have a vested interest in the demon, and also the means to create magic. They already bypassed your defences once.¡± He half-raised a polite hand to quell the Chief¡¯s objections. ¡°Yes, you¡¯ve upgraded your effectiveness, but what¡¯s to say they haven¡¯t increased theirs, also? They¡¯ve had just as much time to adapt.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said the Chief. ¡°We¡¯ve been monitoring all activity along the border and within Gweur itself. We know where the rebels are hiding. They haven¡¯t moved. It would take more than one or two to accomplish something like this.¡±


    ¡°I wish I shared your confidence,¡± said the Prince. ¡°What is the situation in Gweur?¡±


    ¡°Volatile, Your Majesty.¡± The Foreign Minister sighed. ¡°The government will fall any day now. I¡¯m afraid it¡¯s inevitable. An intervention may be required.¡±


    ¡°You were the one who said to hold back on Gweur,¡± the Prince said to Delcroix. ¡°Make it easier to see what they were planning. You didn¡¯t see this.¡±


    ¡°Which is why I don¡¯t believe they¡¯re involved,¡± said Delcroix.


    Kuplas flapped his jacket, then smoothed it down. ¡°If not them, then who?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. But not knowing the answer is no reason to act blindly. I¡¯m sure the Minister for War would agree.¡±


    ¡°What say you, Reshvay?¡± asked Kuplas. ¡°Your men are prepared, are they not? Massing at the border, as it were. A surgical strike, and the rebels would be wiped out. Once they are no longer a threat to Gweur, they are no longer a threat to us.¡±


    ¡°Ridiculous,¡± said Reshavay. ¡°You clearly didn¡¯t pay enough attention in school, Kuplas.¡±


    ¡°I was an excellent student, as I¡¯m sure you¡¯re aware.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m aware of no such thing. Delcroix is the one who keeps tabs on people, not I. And learning has very little to do with understanding. We can take Gweur, of course, but then we¡¯re committed to keeping it. There¡¯s a reason why we never invaded the entire continent and made it ours by empire. The damn thing¡¯s a waste of time and energy. No empire lasts. No subjects remain loyal. We will overextend ourselves, and our other neighbours will be watching closely, waiting for an opening.¡±


    ¡°Surely we could deal with them just as efficiently,¡± said Kuplas.


    ¡°Indeed,¡± said Reshvay. ¡°And then we would be stretched to the limit, troop numbers heavily depleted. Tell me, Minister, if you were a demon queen at the head of an army of slavering monsters, when would you choose to attack?¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t know¡ª¡±


    ¡°I do,¡± said Reshvay. ¡°It¡¯s the duty of my ministry to provide the people of Ranvar with peace and security. The glory of my command will not be measured by the number of lands under the Ranvar flag, it will be measured by the number of our citizens who are left alive to see the flag flying. Dragons are aging. Mages are weaker than ever before. Demons are searching for a way to cross into our dimension. Now is not the time to cry tallyho! and charge into more conflict.¡±Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    ¡°Let my men take care of it,¡± said the Chief. ¡°I have agents in place already. We could eliminate the key personnel in the uprising. No one would even know it was our hand that was responsible. Cut off the head, quick and effective.¡± The undercurrent of menace in his voice was chilling.


    ¡°We¡¯ve already seen how effective,¡± said Reshvay pointedly.


    ¡°Enough,¡± said Prince Ranade, stepping in before tempers flared. He had listened to the heated exchange with simmering indignation. His Ministers were flailing around like this was the first crisis they¡¯d faced. ¡°Delcroix, you have the best position to see this from all sides. What¡¯s your advice?¡±


    ¡°I think it would be best¡ª¡±


    ¡°To wait,¡± the Prince finished for him.


    Delcroix bowed his head in deferment. ¡°The boy is still our best hope for ending this¡­ quickly and efficiently.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not entirely sure what it is you¡¯re waiting for. The boy is still just a boy. What about your agents? Weren¡¯t they keeping an eye on him, too?¡±


    ¡°Yes, Your Majesty. They also have gone missing.¡± The atmosphere tensed. ¡°It isn¡¯t quite the same, though. My agents can¡¯t be silenced or destroyed. They will return, once they have time to... reassemble.¡±


    ¡°You think he¡¯s still on the school grounds?¡± said the Chief.


    ¡°I do.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll have a specialised search team on site within a few hours,¡± said the Chief. ¡°Agents of the highest quality. If he¡¯s there, they¡¯ll find him.¡±


    ¡°I already have a man on site,¡± said Delcroix. ¡°I¡¯ll have him confine students to their dormitories to give you free run of the place.¡±


    The Chief nodded curtly, and then turned to the Prince. ¡°Sire?¡±


    The Prince¡¯s eyes drifted to the fireplace, the weight of his office resting heavy on his shoulders. For the next several minutes, the Prince sat motionless in his chair staring sightlessly at the fire. The others waited patiently.


    Then he blinked. ¡°Yes, alright,¡± he said to the flames. The fire spluttered and danced in the iron grate.


    The Prince got up and stretched and went to the window. ¡°Well, gentlemen, it seems we have work to do.¡± He began to pace, his words as firm as his steps. ¡°You¡¯re convinced he¡¯s still somewhere on the grounds?¡± he said to Delcroix. ¡°And alive?¡±


    ¡°Your Majesty, he¡¯s far too important to the demon to allow him to die. And the school is far too important to the process to take him far from it. He¡¯s there. The fact he has been hidden from us suggests time is running out.¡±


    ¡°Search the school.¡± He turned to the Chief of Staff. ¡°And have your agents remove the leaders of the Gweur uprising. Quietly. Make it seem like an internal power struggle. We might as well play it safe.¡±


    The Chief nodded. ¡°Yes, Your Majesty. I¡¯ll see to it immediately. With your permission.¡± The Prince waved him away and the chief faded into a ghostly apparition, and then entirely from view.


    ¡°And no word from the Archmage? Allowing him back was meant to prevent exactly this sort of confusion.¡± The Prince shook his head. ¡°I¡¯ve completely lost my appetite thanks to all of this. My wife, I¡¯m sure I don¡¯t have to tell you, is delighted. Reshvay, I want you to reinforce the Gweur border infantry.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Your Majesty,¡± said Reshvay.


    ¡°And recall all dragon troops.¡±


    ¡°From the Gweur border?¡±


    ¡°From every border.¡±


    ¡°But Your Majesty, that will leave us vulnerable.¡±


    ¡°The threat isn¡¯t from outside, it¡¯s from the centre. You think anyone would invade us even if our borders were completely undefended? No, they will wait to see if we falter, and by then it will be too late. For all of us.¡±


    Reshvay rose stiffly from his chair, grumbling into his large moustache.


    ¡°I take it the Gweur situation will be allowed to fester,¡± said Kuplas, taking out a handkerchief and wiping the sweat from his hands. He was the only one who seemed to not be affected by the cold.


    ¡°For now. We will let them fight among themselves, and appease the victors with power, influence and money. If concessions are to be made, let it be from their side. And you, Delcroix, find that damn boy.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Your Majesty,¡± said Delcroix. He bowed and turned, hurrying out of the room.


    There was much to do and who knew how much time there was left? The Archmage might, but there had been no response from that quarter. He might even have to visit the Royal College himself, the first time in over a decade.


    Or should he go to the school first? Why hadn¡¯t the mage intervened in whatever Tutt had got himself involved with? That was the purpose of sending him there, after all. Denkne, the half-breed mage with strong sympathies for demons.


    His predilections in that direction had been long known, of course. A harmless oddity, it had seemed. Not so, now. And yet, sending him to keep an eye on the boy had been perfectly valid. The demon wanted the boy alive. Who better to make sure no harm befell the lad than a demon sympathiser?


    So why hadn¡¯t he ensured Nic¡¯s safety? Or was there more to this? Had the time truly arrived? He hoped not. They were woefully underprepared. He needed to get back to his office and start sending out instructions.


    <h1 dir="ltr" style="text-align: center">***</h1>


    The headmaster stood by the window that overlooked the main quad. Dizzy had been explaining the central thesis behind her presentation project for the last ten minutes, and he had hardly said a word, other than the occasional murmur.


    It was mildly infuriating. She didn¡¯t particularly care if he had suggestions or not, the presentation was more or less complete in her mind, but he could at least feign some interest.


    Having selected him as her supervisor¡ªmore by design than preference¡ªshe had gone out of her way to choose a subject she knew would be of interest to him. She had learned of his Masters degree in Arcquatic engineering, even read some of the papers he¡¯d co-authored, and come up with a way to convert Ransom¡¯s antiquated plumbing into a self-heating Arcanum-sink.


    He should have been overflowing with questions. He barely seemed to notice she was there. She kept talking, not paying much attention herself. She would need to come up with a visual way to demonstrate her concept to the students. They wouldn¡¯t understand the maths, but they¡¯d enjoy a water show.


    There was a note on his desk. It had arrived just as the appointment had started. The Headmaster had stared at it intently for a few minutes, and then gone to stand by the window.


    Dizzy had offered to come back another time, but he had told her to carry on. Being ignored wasn¡¯t something she would normally stand for, but she was curious about the contents of the note, and hopeful the opportunity might arise for her to get a look at it. Even as she spoke, her mind raced through a number of possible ways to have him called out of the office.


    ¡°Miss Delcroix,¡± said the Head. ¡°Mr Tutt. You know him?¡±


    She was taken by surprise at the mention of Nic¡¯s name. Did the note concern him? It wouldn¡¯t surprise her. He seemed to be at the centre of everything of late.


    ¡°Yes, sir. We¡¯re in the same class.¡±


    ¡°Yes, yes, of course. I mean outside of lessons.¡±


    ¡°We¡­ are acquaintances, yes.¡± It was hard to find the right words. It was more important to make herself available for whatever the Head had in mind than to be truthful.


    ¡°And have you seen Mr Tutt today?¡±


    ¡°No, sir. He wasn¡¯t in class.¡±


    ¡°That doesn¡¯t strike you as unusual?¡±


    What was going on? She had noticed Nic wasn¡¯t present even though the other members of his household were in class. She hadn¡¯t put too much thought into it at the time, but now it did seem peculiar.


    ¡°I assumed he was ill, sir. Isn¡¯t he in his room?¡±


    ¡°Yes, I¡¯m sure that¡¯s where he is. In any case, everything sounds fine. Arcquatic engineering used to be an interest of mine, as it happens. If you have any problems, feel free to come to me.¡±


    Dizzy had thought that was what she was doing. The Head was too distracted to notice her look of disapproval. He was clearly not on his game.


    ¡°Is Nic alright?¡± she asked with as much concern as she could force into her voice.


    ¡°Hmm? Of course, of course, nothing to worry about.¡±


    ¡°Only, if you want to know what he¡¯s been up to lately, you should ask his roommates. Your son is one of them. And the other two are always with him. If anyone knows, it would be one of those three. They¡¯re usually in the library at this time. Private room on the upper floor.¡±


    ¡°Yes, yes. Very good, Miss Delcroix. If you aren¡¯t accepted by the Royal College, perhaps you should consider taking over my position.¡± He smiled weakly.


    It was an incredibly offensive thing to say¡ªwhy on earth would they not accept her¡ªbut she let it slide.


    ¡°Would you like me to tell them you want to see them?¡± She half-rose from the chair.


    ¡°No, no, that won¡¯t be necessary.¡± He walked across the room and opened the door to lean out and talk to his secretary.


    Dizzy bent over the desk and read the note upside down. She sat down with a bump just as the Headmaster turned around.


    ¡°Thank you Delzina. I¡¯m obliged to you. Now, is there anything else?¡±


    Dizzy shook her head and picked up her bag. She left the Headmaster¡¯s office and went out to the quad. She found a tree to sit under and took out a book which she didn¡¯t read a single word of as she waited.


    The note had said Nic was missing. That there would be a search of the grounds and students were to be confined to their quarters. Nothing like this had happened before.


    A few minutes later, three boys entered the building.


    She waited.


    The three boys eventually came out. They looked a bit shaken by the experience.


    She got up and walked across the quad at a rake. The perfect angle to intercept them.


    ¡°I¡¯m hungry,¡± said Fanny.


    ¡°We just ate lunch,¡± said Davo.


    ¡°You don¡¯t think it was a little odd?¡± asked Brill. ¡°The way my father¡ª¡±


    ¡°Where is he?¡± said Dizzy, making all three boys jump.


    ¡°Don¡¯t do that,¡± said Fanny. ¡°I have anxiety talking to girls as it is. You¡¯ll give me a complex.¡±


    ¡°Where is he?¡± she repeated.


    ¡°We don¡¯t know,¡± said Davo. ¡°He wasn¡¯t in his room this morning. You know as much as we do. Probably more, since you spent most of your formative years together. Where do you think he¡¯d go if an unreasonably persistent girl wouldn¡¯t stop bothering him?¡±


    She spent a long ten seconds staring at him. ¡°He¡¯s not hiding from me. He knows he can¡¯t do that. We spent years playing that game, and he never once won.¡±


    ¡°Have you ever considered,¡± said Brill, ¡°that he wanted you to find him, back then?¡±


    And not now? No. That wasn¡¯t it. But she did believe them when they said they didn¡¯t know. The difference was, they clearly thought he was intentionally staying away from them. She knew he was in trouble.


    She could feel it, gnawing at her. This wasn¡¯t like him, and wouldn¡¯t she know? Hadn¡¯t she spent the last five years keeping tabs on him? Every exam he sat, every trip he took, every library he visited, she had it all noted down. It hadn¡¯t been very difficult to keep track of him, his life was so simple, and her father¡¯s network so complete.


    It had been hard to figure out what he was doing, other than attempting to become the most dull person in Ranvar. But slowly, the inconceivable truth had dawned on her. He was a monumental idiot. Chasing after her when there was no possible way he could succeed. And yet, he had succeeded.


    And now he was gone. She would have been glad if it had been an act of surrender. An admission that there was no point to his obsession. But not like this.


    He was close by. She could feel it.


    ¡°If you see him, tell him I¡¯m looking for him. And I will find him.¡±


    She turned and walked away. She would find him. It was one of the things she had always excelled at without even trying. And not because he wanted to be found. That would have been insulting, and he would never do that. She knew how he thought. It was one of the things that had made her¡­ tolerate him.


    She knew whatever he had been waiting for, it had begun. Willingly or not, he was involved, and he planned to keep her out of it. He planned to keep them all out of it. His scheme wouldn¡¯t work on her. She wasn¡¯t going to get left out.


    She would start with the library. That was his place of refuge. That would be where he would go first.


    <h1 dir="ltr" style="text-align: center">***</h1>


    Nic opened one eye. It was dark. And dusty. His throat was parched, but other than that there was no pain. He lay there, wondering if he had broken something so severely he had lost all feeling. Paralysed.


    He tried to move his fingers and toes. They seemed to still be there. He felt around. No limbs in agony, no wetness of blood. He was in a very narrow space. He sat up and then tried to get to his feet, and discovered there wasn¡¯t room to stand, banging his head against the fallen rocks that had formed a low roof over him.


    He tried to take a breath and his chest began to ache, he became weak and dizzy, so he lay down and breathed slowly, sipping the air. He was alive, but trapped. And without water, he wouldn¡¯t last very long.


    ¡°You wake, finally,¡± said a voice.


    ¡°Couldn¡¯t you find a better way to kill me?¡± he said, his words cracking.


    ¡°Kill you? No, my child. Why would I want to kill you? You are so very, very important. You must live. The time is close now. Very, very close.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m going to die,¡± said Nic. ¡°You can¡¯t stop it. Without water, without food¡­¡±


    ¡°But you have water. Can¡¯t you taste it? Can¡¯t you feel it slip down your throat? So cool, so refreshing.¡±


    And he could feel it. He knew he should reject the idea placed in his mind. If he allowed himself to believe the demon¡¯s words now, it would make it that much easier the next time.


    But without water, there would be no next time. And he was desperately thirsty. He gulped the water down.


    ¡°Good, good. Drink your fill. We have little else to do.¡±


    ¡°Why? Why here?¡±


    ¡°Too many eyes watching above. All wanting to know when. When will she come? We can¡¯t allow them to see these things not meant for their eyes. Better to stay down here, hidden. That¡¯s what I built this place for, oh, so many years ago. I was a teacher here, once. Children¡ªit made no sense to me. To make small versions of yourself, and then cease to be so they could replace you. Baffling. Now I understand, of course. Immortality is such a nebulous thing to you. You thought to take it in stages.¡± The demon laughed and the rock around him shook, dropping dust on him in the dark.


    He was frightened and began trembling. He would have preferred to have been killed rather than be stuck here. He felt vomit rising and focused hard to keep it down. That would make this hole even more unbearable.


    ¡°I built this place, then, knowing one day I would need a place to hide from their prying eyes. The stones had to be brought across the sea, the timber from the mountains near the top of the world. It was an ambitious project at the time. I told them it was to study Arcanum. Hahaha.¡±


    More dust fell.


    ¡°How long will this take? I have other needs apart from water.¡±


    ¡°Not long. Hardly any time at all. We wait for the other to do their part, and then we are ready.¡±


    ¡°The other? You mean the one from Gweur? One of your followers?¡±


    ¡°My followers¡­ No. They are of limited ability and limited use. They serve well as a distraction, but little else. I am too weak to complete this task alone, sadly. Holding the door ajar, even a crack, is no mean feat, you see? You and the girl, you struggle so¡ªit¡¯s very tiring. It¡¯s a wonder I was able to hold on. But worth it, in the end. Soon she will come, and you won¡¯t have any more troubles. None.¡±


    The other? Who was the other? Someone else to worry about. He felt like he was missing something. Something obvious.


    He lay quietly, he didn¡¯t know how long, the dust in his nose, filling his mouth. Tears fell from the corners of his eyes and struggled to cut their way through the grime layered on his face. He tried to lose himself to his thoughts.


    And then he considered what had never occurred to him. Why would it? It had been unbelievable enough that there was a demon in the world. What would make him suspect there were two?

 Chapter Thirty Seven

    In the dark, Nic felt close to death. He didn¡¯t sense pain or hunger or any symptom that might cause him to suffer. He didn¡¯t feel life slipping away. He just felt its closeness. Waiting with him, holding his hand. It was almost a comfort to know there would be an end.


    There was no way for him to judge how much time had passed. Certainly several hours. Perhaps days. He refused to entertain any thought of rescue or escape. He had been carefully led here. Arrangements had been made well in advance. No doubt the reaction to his disappearance had been predicted and prepared for.


    If nothing else, it had been an excellent lesson in humility. He had entered the dragon¡¯s lair as though he was a mighty warrior, worthy of the challenge. But he was a fool. A child.


    There was no shame in being what you were. His problem was that he didn¡¯t know his place. He had wilfully forgotten he was nothing more than a maid¡¯s son, and now he was paying the price.


    A drowning man might see his life flash before his eyes in a few seconds. Death was no less present in the black hole under the Pagoda, but his demise was much, much slower. He had the experience of remembering the events of his short life in startling clarity, but it was no flash. They unfolded slowly in excruciating detail and vividness.


    He saw himself with his mother, a child of two or three. He recalled the smell of the kitchen and the way the cat¡¯s tail would brush against his leg when it begged for scraps.


    He was able to recall entire conversations that were of no significance, but wholly accurate, he was sure. He allowed the warm nostalgia to wash over him, a better coffin than the stone and dirt.


    Scenes from childhood played out in his mind. Games with Dizzy in her large house. Making up stories to narrate their adventures as they jumped out of a window and ran to the barn. He was the pirate who had lost his ship. She was the ship detective who was helping him track it down. She never chose a profession he¡¯d heard of.


    He wasn¡¯t remembering it, he was reliving it. They ran up to the hay loft. They climbed over bales of hay. The sun was streaming in through the loft opening. Dogs were barking somewhere. And Dizzy laughing.


    ¡°Look at this book.¡±


    He turned and it wasn¡¯t Dizzy. It was Simole.


    ¡°Why are you here?¡± he said, confused. He wanted to enjoy his time with Dizzy. What time he had left.


    ¡°Look.¡±


    He looked at the book she was holding out. It was Winnum Roke¡¯s book of stories for children. The one in the school library, handwritten.


    She was holding it out, open, insistent.


    He took it. It felt much heavier in his juvenile hands. Much bigger.


    It was open a little past halfway. The story title was: A Wizard of Refinement.


    The subtitle read: In which a man discovers that all questions have an answer, but only one that is correct.


    Nic recalled reading the story. It was short and of no great meaning, as far as he¡¯d been able to tell. Was Simole contacting him from the other place? Was the demon trying to torment him? Was he going insane?


    The words on the page were as clear as if he was holding the real book. He read the story.


    ***


    Parniss Sob will forever be remembered as the greatest of all battle mages. He was responsible for defeating the Demon Queen when all had seemed lost. His strength and fortitude prevailed when the demons swept through the Vale of Frett.


    Many died, even more lost their minds, but Parniss Sob stood tall. He pushed the hordes back. He faced the Queen alone, and so turned the tide.


    He was hailed a hero, and rightly so. He was feted and venerated, and rightly so. Statues were built in his likeness and parks named in his honour. And rightly so.


    But Parniss was an old man by then, who wanted to go home. As well as a battle mage, he was a husband and a father. His children were grown and had families of their own, but his wife waited for him.


    He returned to their small, modest house in the low country west of the Speckled Mountains. It was mainly farmland around the mouth of the mighty River Din, an area prone to flooding by the delta. He found her in the kitchen. There was no embrace, no exclamation of joy. It had been many years since he¡¯d seen her, too embroiled in demonic wars to spare the time.


    She had grown old. They both had, but she had once been a great beauty, and now she was a lonely woman who had aged alone. Her eyes were full of bitterness and recriminations, which she held back, knowing he didn¡¯t deserve them. He had fought to protect the whole world, faced death innumerable times. His battles were immortalised in song. Hers were unknown to any but herself and her pillow.


    ¡°They say you drove out the Demon Queen,¡± she said. ¡°How were you able to resist her temptations?¡±


    The story was already legend, sang in taverns and music halls. How the Demon Queen had used lust and seduction to bring the mightiest of mages low. But not Parniss Sob.


    He told her the true story. He told her the complete story. He held nothing back from her. She was the girl he had married and they had no secrets. Many suitors had vied for her hand, but she had chosen him. He tried to remember why.


    He had been a young man of no consequence. He was unremarkable in every way. From a minor family, possessing no great wealth, of average prospects. He had not expected to win anyone¡¯s hand at the Spring Ball, let alone that of the the prettiest girl there.


    She was the Duke¡¯s second child, and his favourite, as anyone could tell. She would be matched with some prince or dignitary of high repute, but oh how Parniss enjoyed watching her on the dais. She had a presence that becalmed him. He only wished her luck in finding a good man.


    And somehow it had turned out to be him. He had spoken to her. He remembered that. What had he said? A clever joke that made her laugh? Something profound to make her think? It was a pivotal moment in his life, but he had no recollections of the words that had won her heart. He only recalled that she had crossed the room and placed a kiss on his cheek.


    ¡°The Queen must have appeared very beautiful,¡± she said to him. You abandoned me, her eyes told him


    ¡°Yes, she was very beautiful.¡± Not by choice, he wanted to say.


    ¡°Did the illusion not fool you?¡± You fetched me to this corner of the world, and left me to wither away.


    ¡°It was no illusion. Her word is truth. She was astonishing to behold.¡± If I could have stayed, I would have.


    ¡°But you resisted her advances. You were not seduced like the others.¡± I was already old and spent, there was nothing to stay for.


    ¡°She didn¡¯t offer me anything I valued.¡± He took a step towards her.


    She took a step back. ¡°If you weren¡¯t tempted, you deserve no credit. It is easy to reject what you don¡¯t want.¡±


    He paused. ¡°I was tempted. It is her nature to offer to fulfill the most basic of desires. Every man has the same needs.¡±


    ¡°Then you wanted her and that¡¯s nothing to be proud of,¡± she said angrily. ¡°If it was only duty and obligation that prevented you from succumbing then your heart was still corrupted, even in victory.¡±


    ¡°My heart was not corrupted, my love. The demon offered me everything a man might want, but she failed to overcome the one thing that would always make me choose you over her.¡±


    ¡°And what¡¯s that?¡± she asked, holding back her tears.


    ¡°My good taste.¡±


    She slowly crossed the room and kissed him on the cheek.


    ***


    The image of the book faded and Nic was in the darkness again. It was a version of the story he had never read before. It wasn¡¯t the same as the one in the book in the library. It certainly wasn¡¯t something you would read to children.


    What did it mean? Did it mean anything? A coded message he was supposed to unravel?


    He didn¡¯t know. Even if it was his subconscious trying to tell him something, he was the wrong person to send it to. He was in no condition to solve riddles.


    He liked the story, though. He liked that they loved each other, equally.


    In which a man discovers that all questions have an answer, but only one that is correct.


    It was an odd subtitle. Not all questions had an answer. Not all problems had solutions. Someone had to lose.


    ***


    Dizzy climbed to the top floor of the library and walked from one end to the other, weaving between every bookshelf, checking in every study room. Those that had closed doors, she knocked on politely. Those that didn¡¯t answer, she entered using means the school would not have approved of.


    She worked her way down to the next floor and did the same. By the time she reached the ground, and thoroughly inspected every nook and cranny, she had found nothing to indicate Nic¡¯s presence.


    Students carried on their business, nothing seemed out of place. And yet Dizzy had the inescapable feeling everything was wrong.


    The librarian was at her desk, working on a book with a tattered spine.


    ¡°Excuse me, I¡¯d like some assistance,¡± said Dizzy.


    ¡°Of course, Miss Delcroix,¡± said the librarian without looking up. ¡°How can I be of help?¡±


    Dizzy didn¡¯t say anything. She just waited until the librarian slowly raised her eyes to meet Dizzy¡¯s. ¡°Yes? What are you looking for?¡±


    ¡°Your undivided attention,¡± said Dizzy.


    There was no reaction on the librarian¡¯s face. She put down her tools and straightened her back. ¡°Of course. Anything else?¡±Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°Nicolav Tutt. You know him.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said the librarian.


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t a question,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°He¡¯s gone missing. When did you last see him?¡±


    The librarian inflected a single eyebrow so it rose above her glasses. ¡°Missing? Are you sure?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Unless you know where he is.¡±


    ¡°No, I¡¯m afraid I don¡¯t. Shouldn¡¯t you report this to the Registry Office?¡±


    ¡°They already know. There will be a special assembly this afternoon and students will be confined to their rooms while the Secret Service make a full sweep of the grounds. They won¡¯t find him.¡±


    ¡°They won¡¯t? How can you be so sure, Miss Delcroix. Unless you know where he is.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t. But whoever took him would know how things operate here. They might make a mistake and reveal themselves, but I doubt it.¡±


    ¡°What makes you think he¡¯s still here?¡± asked the librarian.


    ¡°It¡¯s not what I think, it¡¯s what everyone else thinks. I can only assume they have good reason to. I intend to find him first.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    Dizzy held the librarian¡¯s gaze for a full minute without speaking. ¡°I have an obligation.¡±


    ¡°I see. Well, I¡¯m afraid I can¡¯t help you. I haven¡¯t seen him in a few days, and he seemed the same as normal.¡±


    ¡°You allowed him to use a private room.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Isn¡¯t that unusual?¡±


    ¡°Yes, but then, he¡¯s an unusual boy. Wouldn¡¯t you agree?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°I¡¯ve always thought of him as very normal. You also allowed him to use the library after hours. Have you ever given that privilege to anyone else? I¡¯m sure there must be others equally deserving.¡±


    ¡°There very well may be, Miss Delcroix. None of them asked.¡±


    ¡°I believe he¡¯s in trouble,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°When I find the people responsible, I intend to make them regret their actions.¡±


    ¡°I believe you.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t know where he is.¡±


    ¡°No, I¡¯m af¡ª¡±


    ¡°That wasn¡¯t a question, either.¡± She turned and walked away. The woman was a liar and hiding more than a few secrets, but Dizzy believed her when she said she didn¡¯t know where Nic was.


    ¡°Miss Delcroix?¡± Dizzy stopped and turned around. The librarian was hunched over her work again. ¡°If you do locate Mr Tutt, please let me know. I find him very normal, too.¡±


    Dizzy felt her jaw tighten, but she didn¡¯t say anything. There was too much to do. She turned and headed for the door.


    Two tall boys stood waiting for her. She stopped in front of them, looking from one to the other.


    ¡°Leave. If I see either of you again today, I¡¯ll give you night terrors for a week.¡±


    Both boys blanched, then backed out of the door. By the time she exited the building, they were nowhere in sight.


    ***


    The story Nic had read weighed heavy on his mind. It was a very short, simple tale that probably wasn¡¯t true. He couldn¡¯t stop thinking about it.


    Maybe there was an answer to his particular problem. One that he just couldn¡¯t see. Rather than give up hope and lay quietly in the dark, practicing for death, he decided to focus his thoughts on finding a way out. It was all very comforting to feel sorry for oneself, but it soon became quite boring.


    He accepted his was a lost cause, but that didn¡¯t mean he couldn¡¯t affect the manner of his demise to suit him a little more, even if the result was inevitable.


    The most obvious option was for him to find a way to end his own life. Timing seemed to be an important factor, and if he upset the timetable, it could ruin everything for those waiting to land the perfect strike.


    Of course, that would leave Simole adrift, but it wasn¡¯t as though he was offering her much of a chance at it was. He was fairly certain, if asked, she would tell him to do what he thought best, and she would take care of herself.


    Indeed, the whole notion of him being there to save her was ridiculous. His aid was a tiny fraction of a fraction when it came to improving her chances.


    The real problem was how to go about it. He had no means to harm himself and could barely move. Since finding himself swallowed by the earth, he hadn¡¯t experienced pain, hunger, or even a need to relieve himself. The only conclusion was that his senses were being modified. It was quite possible that he was in a terrible condition. Wounded, starving and covered in his own excrement; he just wasn¡¯t aware of it.


    In which case, he should at least be grateful for small mercies. To have his senses overruled under such conditions, for all its dangers, was better than having to deal with reality.


    Which he understood was a dangerous position to take. It was the kind of compromise that allowed an insidious power to make unchallenged advances. But if you can¡¯t take dangerous chances when you¡¯re buried alive with only a demon for company, then when?


    His greatest advantage was that they needed him alive. For now. He was here for the sake of convenience, a way to keep him in cold storage until it was time to make the necessary sacrifice. It would be better to let him escape than die, which meant he could engineer a way for the demon to aid his release, if the alternative was his death.


    Admittedly, it was an excellent prison he¡¯d been placed in. He couldn¡¯t move more than a centimetre or two. The only part of him that was free to move was his mind, and what good was that?


    Worry not, said a slithering voice that came from the distant darkness and simultaneously right next to his ear. I won¡¯t let any harm befall you.


    ¡°Will you show me how to die well?¡± he asked quietly.


    What need do you have for braveness? You will not be judged.


    He believed it. He probably wouldn¡¯t be thought of at all.


    Do you fear pain? I promise you no suffering.


    ¡°I imagine you¡¯re keeping me from experiencing the full horror of my predicament, for which I am grateful. But at some point you will release me, and I will feel it all at once. I don¡¯t want to go insane, even though it will protect me from knowing suffering and pain.¡±


    There was a pause. You see clearly in the dark, little one.


    ¡°My eyes have become accustomed to it,¡± said Nic. ¡°You can refuse me, of course, but know that I would not have refused you, if our positions had been reversed.¡±


    And after I teach you, then what? You use my teachings to betray me? Such is the lesson we learned. And we ruminated and meditated on the lesson as we ate our own hearts out in vexation. It took a long time to learn the lesson, but we learned it well.


    ¡°I¡¯m not asking you to give me strength. You¡¯ve already buried me. I ask to be buried deeper. It¡¯s not like you need my mind to be here.¡±


    But you already have that gift, you need not receive it from me. You have been creating your own privacy from the moment you found yourself trapped. Impenetrable walls are a simple matter for you, I have noticed.


    ¡°What walls?¡±


    The ones you crouch behind. It would not take much to build a limitless maze, little one. Your language has such dips and valleys, such excellent places to hide. Cleanse your mind of people¡ªan easy task for one as you. Close your ears. Close your heart. Surrender your desire to ever leave. You will be out of reach.


    ¡°Isn¡¯t there a skill I have to learn? A technique?¡±


    There was a soft laugh in the back of his mind. A guide? A manual? What technique do you need to claim what is already yours? Power is not something you attain, it is something you display. How the weak love the appearance of power, how they writhe in its presence. They fear it as much as they admire it.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t ask for power, only¡ª¡±


    Control over your own fate? You don¡¯t think that takes power? If you wish to be buried deeper within yourself, then the answer is in your own hands. Dig.


    ***


    ¡°We really don¡¯t know where he is,¡± said the tall one


    ¡°I know,¡± said Dizzy. She looked around the small, cosy room. The fire crackled and popped. The Head¡¯s son brooded in one of the chairs, watching her closely. The tubby one fidgeted and grew redder in the face.


    ¡°Then why are you here?¡± the tall one asked. Dizzy ignored him.


    ¡°Shouldn¡¯t you be in your room?¡± asked the tubby one. ¡°The Head said we should remain in our rooms. Everyone.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s where I am, then,¡± she said.


    ¡°Then why can I see you standing in front of me?¡±


    ¡°Poor eyesight?¡±


    ¡°Look, Dizzy¡ª¡± she shot the tall one a dark look and was pleased to see him flinch, although he didn¡¯t stop talking, which was a surprise ¡°¡ªwherever Nic is, he doesn¡¯t want us to get involved or he would have said something.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t care what he wants. What did you tell the Headmaster? Specifically.¡±


    ¡°Nic was talking about the Pagoda,¡± said the tubby one. The tall one turned with a furious expression, making the tubby one burn even redder. ¡°What? The quicker we tell her, the sooner she¡¯ll leave. Nic wouldn¡¯t care.¡±


    ¡°That was all? He wasn¡¯t interested in the library or Denkne¡¯s place?¡±


    The three boys looked at her with startled faces.


    ¡°You¡¯re very well-informed,¡± said the tall one. ¡°Or you¡¯re good at guessing.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re a lot like him,¡± said the tubby one. ¡°Except, he¡¯s actually quite a nice person when you get to know him.¡±


    She ignored the slight. ¡°I¡¯m going to stay here until it gets dark.¡±


    ¡°What? Why? She can¡¯t do that, can she, Davo?¡±


    ¡°Calm down, Fanny.¡± He turned to her, serious and business-like. ¡°We¡¯ve told you what you wanted to know, there¡¯s no reason for you to stay.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re under curfew,¡± she said. ¡°It would break school rules if I was to go out now.¡±


    The boys looked at each other, lost for words.


    ¡°Which is his room? This one? I¡¯ll borrow it. I¡¯m sure he wouldn¡¯t mind.¡± She headed for the door. They didn¡¯t try to stop her¡ªnot that they¡¯d be able.


    She closed the door behind her and looked around the room. It was neat and tidy. She went through the drawers but found nothing of interest. She sat on his bed, and then lay down. The pillow smelled just like him.


    It wasn¡¯t a pleasant smell. It never was with boys. She got up and opened a window. She lay down again and let her mind wander as the light grew dimmer.


    Once it was fully dark she sat up. ¡°Attend me.¡±


    A shadow swept across the walls. ¡°Yes, Mistress,¡± whispered a barely audible breeze.


    ¡°Did the Secret Service find him?¡±


    ¡°No, Mistress.¡±


    ¡°Did they check the Pagoda?¡±


    ¡°Yes, Mistress.¡±


    ¡°Did you check the Pagoda?¡±


    ¡°Yes, Mistress. Nothing.¡±


    ¡°How far down did you go?¡±


    ¡°To the bottom, Mistress.¡±


    ¡°No further? You didn¡¯t go below.¡±


    ¡°There is no below.¡±


    ¡°There is always something above and always something below. You should have dug deeper. You should always dig deeper.¡±


    ¡°Unable to comply, Mistress. There is a null space beneath the Pagoda.¡±


    Her mouth tightened. ¡°What¡¯s in the null space?¡±


    ¡°Nothing. It is a null space.¡±


    ¡°Yes. The perfect place to hide something. How many of you are on active duty for my father?¡±


    ¡°Half.¡±


    ¡°And the other half?¡±


    ¡°Waiting in reserve.¡±


    ¡°Good. I want you to summon the reserves here.¡±


    ¡°Cannot comply. Request is not permissible.¡±


    ¡°What is your primary order?¡±


    ¡°To protect the scion.¡±


    ¡°What is the scion¡¯s threat level.¡±


    ¡°Mild.¡±


    Dizzy paused. She had expected it to be lower than that. ¡°Which direction is the threat coming from?¡±


    ¡°All directions.¡±


    It was referring to the general anxiety caused by the search for Nic, not a specific threat to her. ¡°What is the boy¡¯s threat level?¡±


    ¡°High.¡±


    ¡°What is the threat level for the school if the boy is compromised?¡±


    ¡°High.¡±


    ¡°Where is the scion?¡±


    ¡°Ransom School.¡±


    ¡°What is the projected threat to the scion if the school is compromised?¡±


    ¡°High.¡±


    ¡°What is permissible if the scion is under high threat?¡±


    ¡°Everything is permissible.¡±


    ¡°Summon the reserves.¡±


    ¡°Reserves will be summoned, Mistress.¡±


    The air shivered as the shadows raced across the wall and out the window. Dizzy lay back down and breathed deeply.


    She had been annoyed when she first discovered her father had assigned one of his wraiths to watch over her like some treasured possession, but she had soon learned how to use the access to his network to her advantage.


    They weren¡¯t the mindless automatons she had always considered them. They could be reasoned with. Convinced and persuaded. Even manipulated.


    There was a light knock on the door. It opened a crack. ¡°It¡¯s me. Fanny.¡± A sweaty round head peeked through the gap. ¡°Are you alright?¡±


    ¡°Yes. What do you want?¡±


    ¡°Nothing. I just heard you talking to yourself. Thought you might be upset.¡±


    She glared at him, irritated by his concern. It was too dark for him to be affected by her displeasure.


    ¡°I¡¯m fine.¡±


    ¡°You mean a lot to him. He wouldn¡¯t want¡ª¡±


    ¡°You can stop talking.¡± She got up and walked towards him. He scurried backwards to get out of her way. The other two were behind him, scurrying to get out of his way.


    ¡°I¡¯m leaving. He¡¯s in the Pagoda. Or rather, under it.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t know that,¡± said Davo, flustered. ¡°You¡¯re just guessing.¡±


    ¡°Yes. I don¡¯t have the energy to waste on explaining myself. Or the desire. He¡¯s in trouble, you can count on that.¡±


    ¡°And what do you think you¡¯re going to do?¡± asked Davo. ¡°Apart from get in the way?¡±


    ¡°This isn¡¯t some school prank,¡± said Fanny. ¡°It¡¯s either demons or Gweur rebels.¡±


    She was surprised. ¡°Why would Gweur be interested in him?¡±


    Davo shot Fanny another dire look. ¡°No good reason.¡±


    ¡°And lots of bad ones,¡± mumbled Fanny.


    ¡°It¡¯s irrelevant. Do you want to come with me or not?¡±


    They were taken aback by the offer.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you want to take your minions with you?¡± asked Fanny.


    ¡°Do you want more people to know about this? I¡¯ll probably need help with heavy lifting.¡± She looked the three of them over, unimpressed. ¡°It¡¯ll probably take all three of you.¡±


    They looked at each other and came to some unverbalised agreement.


    ¡°We aren¡¯t going to follow your orders,¡± said Davo.


    ¡°You will do exactly what I tell you.¡±


    ¡°But only this one time,¡± said Fanny.


    ¡°Good. First I need to pick up some equipment from my room.¡±


    ¡°Um,¡± said Fanny. ¡°Don¡¯t you live in the girls¡¯ dorm?¡±


    ¡°Yes, of course.¡±


    ¡°Boys aren¡¯t allowed in there.¡±


    ¡°I need you to carry things, so we¡¯ll make an exception.¡±


    ¡°Okay. I just need to brush my teeth,¡± said Fanny.


    ¡°Do I have time for a quick shower?¡± asked Davo, even more flustered than when demons and Gweur rebels were mentioned.


    ¡°This is against school rules,¡± said Brill. ¡°But under the circumstances¡­¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m leaving now. Either come or don¡¯t.¡± She walked out. They hurried after her.

 Chapter Thirty Eight

    If he opened his eyes, the darkness frightened him. When he closed them, the darkness was no less dark, but there was a comfort to being inside.


    It was worrying when he thought about where he was and what was going to happen to him. Orderly plans kept him from having to contemplate it, so he let his mind sink and sift through his memories. The demon had told him to dig, but he had no strength to fight through anything. He let himself settle as deep as he could and let the weight of his thoughts carry him lower.


    His mind was full of information, a whole lifetime¡¯s worth. If he allowed himself to be still, to not let the fear of death override his mental faculties, the answer would rise out of the depths to meet him. If there was an answer.


    Winnum Roke¡¯s stories rattled around his head vying for attention, but he pushed them aside. Whatever secrets they might hold, they were beyond him. Clever, twisting parables were fine for children, but they offered little assistance when you were buried alive. Magic, on the other hand, might have come to his aid. He smiled to himself in the dark¡ªthe strain it caused in his stiffened skin brought tears to his eyes.


    He had told everyone he had no interest in learning magic. No desire to become a student of the Royal College. Not even a passing fancy to enroll in the Arts Course. So proud in his rejection of what others valued so highly. That Dizzy reached for so eagerly. What he would give for ten or twenty years to complete those studies. Perhaps the demon would give him a deferment. He laughed and his skin cracked. He put a hand to his face, but it felt smooth and clean. Dirt fell into his mouth and he had to control his panic with bloody-minded effort. He turned his head to the side and spat it out.


    How long had he been lying here? Centuries?


    His thoughts sank deeper. What had Denkne said? That nothing was more powerful than creating your own reality and inviting others into it? Trapping them inside.


    Was that the point of Winnum Roke¡¯s storybook? Not to communicate an answer, but to be the answer. How would that work? Most likely with magic, of which he had none.


    They were stupid stories. People behaving in completely unrealistic ways in order to make some point or other. Why not simply tell people what you meant? Why dress it up in costume and misdirection?


    Such things were easy. A cheat. You decided your message, then worked backwards, making it look like the revelation was inevitable. Of course it was. It came first.


    He could have come up with one just as easily. A tale full of wise vagueness and seeming insights.A man with a hat will protect his head from the cold.Bravo. Author! Author!


    His amusement was bitter, but it wasn¡¯t cold. It warmed him to have others to blame. He could have been the hero of this story if he¡¯d had the correct weapons available to him. And the training. And the courage to use them in the face of abject terror. Then it would have been simple. It would just require him to be someone else, entirely.


    Where was the power in words? How did story turn real? It sounded profound, but it made no sense.


    Are you weeping, little one? Are you grieving for your abandoned future?


    ¡°I tried to build walls in my mind,¡± said Nic. ¡°They always fall.¡±


    You try to build too high, too quickly. Spread your walls wide. They may be low, but a maze isn¡¯t built to trap, its purpose is to entertain. The one inside wants to find the correct path, that is the joy of it¡ªthey will stay until they do.


    Was it really so simple? He let his mind see in the darkness. He had tried to visualise the walls of a mighty fortress with ramparts and battlements, and they had tumbled down as soon as he¡¯d looked away. Now he raised hedges, green and leafy, and created patterns around himself.


    They stretched out in all directions, surrounding him. Intersecting and forming spirals, with him at the centre, waiting. Only, there was no route to the centre. He had created a labyrinth with no answer. No correct path to be found.


    See? Wasn¡¯t that fun? So creative when you put your mind to it.


    She came through the hedges, a woman, young and beautiful, hair the colour of autumn wheat, wearing a simple white smock like it was a ball gown. The leaves flew into the air as though a great scythe had slashed out a path to let her through.


    All the knowledge in the world isn¡¯t a match for a boy with a little imagination.


    She was mocking him. The demon had taken on this form to rip his creation apart in a way he could see clearly.


    But demons didn¡¯t lie. If a little imagination was what it would take, he could provide that much, at least. No walls, no maze, he would build a city. If the demon wished to bury him in dirt and despair, he would surround himself with life and the living. Houses and gardens. Paved streets and large squares. Fountains of sparkling water.


    It came to him easily, like a child playing with building blocks. A boy and his imagination.


    He knew about road planning. He¡¯d read all about aqueducts and sewers. His city would be no toy replica, it would be real and functional. It would have businesses and government. And a library as big as a palace.


    He lost himself in his creation. Not just structures of brick and mortar, but people. Families and friends. They filled the emptiness with activity and industry.


    Come find me here, he thought. He wasn¡¯t hidden, he was busy.


    And the demon came. The woman in white searched for him, seeking an audience. But he was too swamped in work. He had too much to do, too many other people too see. They were no less important than the demon. They were no less real.


    They had ambitions and desires, and they came to him for help. He was the creator and he simply had to name something to make it be. This was magic beyond what they taught in the Royal College. He wouldn¡¯t save anyone with these powers, but that was no longer his purpose. If the demon wished to take his world away from him, he would make his own.


    And slowly he began to sense something just out of reach, but close and getting closer. There was a power here he had some semblance of control over. His city wasn¡¯t just a puppet show, it was breathing on its own. The people grew old and died, they laughed and cried, and they told stories.


    They had myths and legends. They told them to their children and they drew them out of his imagination. He could feel himself generating them like dreams. A life spent reading stories told by others were within him. It didn¡¯t matter if he understood what the author had been trying to say, what lessons were being imparted, it was the story itself. They were structures like buildings. Foundations, support and fortifications. He could speak his own tale and see it rise. It didn¡¯t require him to know the ending first. The ending would be there when he reached it.


    ¡°Do you know the story of the Green Demon?¡± he said.


    There was a long pause.So, the boy speaks again. Many stories of demons have I heard over the years. Do you refer to the tale of the the Minutet Forest bear whose fur was green? It terrorised the towns around the forest, and was believed to be a demon, but was not.


    ¡°No,¡± said Nic. ¡°Not a bear. A demon with green eyes and green hair.¡±


    The Woman of La Creza, then? Whose green eyes were said to mesmerise any man so he could not prevent her from gutting him with a dagger. A simple tale of men fearing the women they sleep with. She was but a woman who had been wronged once too often.


    ¡°No, not a jealous woman. The Green Demon walked among people without hiding its true form.¡±


    Tell me your story, then. It seems we still have time. Perhaps I will recognise your Green Demon.


    There was a subdued curiosity to the demon¡¯s voice. A reluctant handing over of the reins. Nic took them, careful to not seem too eager.


    ¡°The Green Demon lived in a city, summoned by a mage.¡±


    So, a pet.


    ¡°Yes. A pet. A slave. It served its master, and when the master died, the demon was free. But it had spent a long time among humans and had become accustomed to their ways. It lived in the mage''s house, and it chose to help the citizens. In times of war, when famine struck, when aid was required. It was accepted. It was known to be wise and learned and would freely offer advice when asked.¡±


    Hmm. Already this demon sounds very strange.


    ¡°Are you saying it isn¡¯t real?¡± asked Nic. He had been careful to make the story clear yet short of detail, just like the stories he had read.


    I would like to hear more before I decide.


    ¡°A man came to the demon, a seeker of knowledge, and asked the demon to teach him what his own tutors could not. The demon said, ¡®You will not have the patience to travel with me and hold your tongue when you see things you do not understand. You chase answers instead of waiting for them.¡¯¡±


    I do not know your demon, but I grow fond of its words.


    Nic slowed his breathing. He had spent most of his life giving people the answers they were looking for. This was no different. ¡°The man insisted he would be patient. He sensed a rare opportunity to improve himself, and he was willing to be restrained, even though it was not in his nature.¡±


    Nic was trying his best to tell the story in the correct manner. Did it matter how he told it? He wasn¡¯t sure, but even without being able to see, he could sense the demon listening intently.This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    ¡°The Green Demon relented, but with one proviso. If the man was to ask for an explanation three times, there would be separation between them. The man agreed.¡±


    This story feels familiar, and yet not. As though it is all stories in one. Are you hoping to enlighten me with insights anew?


    ¡°This is the Green Demon¡¯s story. I doubt it will make you any different than you already are.¡±


    We shall see. Please, continue.


    ¡°They travelled around the city, the seeker observing his master closely. They came to a house where a man worked a furnace, preparing to shod horses. Children were playing in a courtyard. Many animals roamed freely. None paid attention to the demon who could attract no attention if he wished.


    ¡°A little girl stood out from the rest of the children. Although young, it was obvious her features would one day mark her out as a great beauty. The demon went to the furnace and took hold of a burning log. With a sudden strike, it hit the girl in the face, cutting her cheek open and blinding one eye. The girl screamed and fell to the floor.¡±


    Nic waited for the demon to speak, but there were no questions.


    ¡°Her family rushed to see what had happened. In the confusion, the Green Demon walked out of the courtyard and down the street. The seeker was confused and waited for some kind of explanation, but none came. Eventually, he could hold his tongue no more and asked the demon, ¡®Why did you strike down the child? Was she evil? Had she committed some crime?¡¯


    ¡°The Green Demon said, ¡®Did I not tell you to be patient?¡¯ and the man understood he was being tested and that the demon would perform all sorts of unfathomable acts to tempt his tongue. Their only purpose was to befuddle him and he was ashamed he had succumbed so easily. He vowed to hold his tongue.¡±


    This man was foolish, but a quick learner. Perhaps a relative of yours?


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Nic. ¡°Perhaps. They continued on their trips and came to a large house. The lord of the manor offered the respected demon food and drink. They spent a pleasant evening dining and making conversation, and then when all were spent and asleep in their chairs, the demon rose and left the house, closing the doors and barring them from outside. Then he set fire to the house.


    ¡°The man who had offered them hospitality was burned alive, along with everyone else in his household. The Green Demon acted as though nothing of note had passed. The seeker was perplexed, but he knew better than to ask, but surely the demon had not committed arson and murder just to test him.¡±


    He won¡¯t be able to hold his tongue.


    ¡°He wasn¡¯t. The next day the man¡¯s vow to stay silent broke as though he¡¯d been suffering from a fever. He demanded an explanation, knowing he would have one more chance after this.¡±


    Foolish. Asking is not the same as receiving.


    ¡°No. The demon admonished him for his impatience and offered no explanation. But the man did not regret his outburst. It was the release he needed more than the relief. The demon continued his life of ease in the city built at the meeting point of two rivers.¡±


    Your city. I have enjoyed walking its streets.


    ¡°Thank you. I enjoyed building them. The city guard came to the demon¡¯s house and brandished their weapons. They forced the demon out, driving it beyond the city walls, hurling abuse and threatening the demon if it tried to return. They had heard of the demon''s acts of cruelty and wanted no harm to befall any more citizens. The seeker followed the demon as it retreated to the woods. They waited for nightfall.


    ¡°Under cover of the dark, the Green Demon returned to the city walls. It found a small crack between the stone blocks and slid its fingers into it. Slowly, the crack enlarged and stretched into an opening. The man followed the demon into the city, dreading what inexplicable horror he was about to witness. But there was no horror this time. The demon made its way through the streets of the sleeping city, to a storm drain in the central square.


    ¡°With careless ease, the demon lifted the iron grate from the drain and whistled into the dark, dank passage. Immediately there were a scurry of feet, and rats poured out of the drain. The demon hurried back to the crack in the city wall, chased by thousands of rats. The man raced to stay ahead of them, although they seemed to have little interest in anything but the demon.


    ¡°Once out of the city, the Green Demon headed down to the river. He stood on the bank as the rats threw themselves into the water. They didn¡¯t drown as rats are excellent swimmers. They headed off into the night as though an important task awaited them.¡±


    And now our confused hero will fail once more.


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Nic. ¡°He couldn¡¯t bear it. ¡®Those soldiers chased you away, yet you broke into the city to rid them of rats. What kind of perverse reward for their behaviour is this?¡¯ The Green Demon smiled sadly and said, ¡®This shall be separation between me and you; now I will inform you of the significance of that with which you could not have patience.¡¯¡± Nic stopped.


    There was a long pause, after which the demon finally spoke.And what was the significance?


    ¡°Can¡¯t you guess?¡± said Nic. ¡°You who have a joy of mazes, can¡¯t you find your own way out? Or do you require me to show you the way?¡±


    Ah, but what a fine structure you have built. A quick, quick learner. You disappoint like all the others, but you come back stronger. It is good. You should be proud of how far you have come in so short a time. Your tale is a fine effort for one so young. Never did I sense a false note. The demon, although not known to me, was known to you. It lives in its world as I live in this one.


    ¡°And the reasons for its actions?¡± asked Nic, sensing the demon was delaying for time.


    Not so hard to fathom. The girl whose face the Green Demon scarred, her beauty was destined to bring her grief. The eyes of men would be drawn to her, forcing themselves into acts of wanton lust. The mighty who know no censure, the family members who harbour cruel designs. By marring her looks, future pain was averted.


    ¡°No,¡± said Nic.


    No? The details may not¡ª


    ¡°No. Do you think I lie?¡±


    No. You do not lie. Let me think on it. But the host burned in his own home, a paragon of his community who none would condemn for fear of reprisal. His evil acts carried out with impunity because of his position.


    ¡°Not even close.¡±


    There was a longer pause, with a chill attached.Then the city rats. A simple matter of a charitable deed requiring no thanks. Even though the city guard were hostile and unjust, the Green Demon acted to save their city from disease and infestation.¡±


    ¡°Nope.¡±


    You speak too hastily,said the demon with irritation in its voice.The actions of a demon are not so easily understood by your kind. You ascribe them roles in your pantomimes that represent your own foibles and desires.


    Nic smiled to himself. This had been his intention, to feed the demon its own prejudices about people. Not that they were necessarily wrong, but once they were known, they could be used against them. Demons had a tendency to be inflexible, to commit themselves wholesale. It was a powerful force to be reckoned with, when they were right.


    ¡°Do you want me to tell you the answer?¡± said Nic.


    I don¡¯t need you to explain anything to me.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think that¡¯s true.¡±


    There was a tension in the air. He was challenging the demon¡¯s belief in itself. He had brought it into his territory and played a game where he made the rules. He could have simply fudged his answers, made them different to whatever the demon suggested, but that wouldn¡¯t have worked. He needed his answers to be better. Truer. And they were. He believed that, and so did the demon.


    What will you demand to complete your tale?


    ¡°Nothing. Find your own ending.¡± He wanted to ask for his freedom, but he knew that would have been what the demon expected. And that was the one rule to follow.


    There was a long, long silence. And then the demon began to take apart the story, examining the Green Demon¡¯s actions, questioning every aspect, making bold claims that were all shot down. At times exhibiting a ferocity so gleeful that it was almost genial, and now a geniality so outrageous that it bordered on the ferocious; yet Nic passed judgment with the tranquil superiority of an all-knowing creator.


    With each rejection, he felt the demon¡¯s presence weaken. The hold on him became slack. The demon¡¯s focus was elsewhere, and Nic felt the chains loosen. To the point it was more like a leash held by him, a tug every time the demon worried some obscure aspect of the Green Demon¡¯s tale.


    He had achieved a small victory, but to what end? He hadn¡¯t gained anything. How could he transform what was most likely a momentary respite, into a genuine advantage? He had no inkling if he had made any kind of meaningful progress.


    What he did know was that the demon was lost inside the world he had created. It was a pitiful version of itself, harried and uncertain, roaming the streets of his city. There was at least a little solace to take from that.


    And the smaller it shrank, the larger he grew. He could swallow it whole, if he wished. Where would that lead?


    It wasn¡¯t like consuming a sweet, down his throat. He was encased inside a black bubble and with a shrug of his shoulders he could invert it, enclosing the demon on the inside and taking the outer for himself.


    He wouldn¡¯t have had the perception to see the possibility before. Now he saw it clearly.


    The chain he had been tied with was the tether the demon used to hold onto him. Another one reached into the void. Attached to Simole? The demon had placed itself between them, mediating everything, filtering what it would and wouldn¡¯t allow to pass.


    If Nic could switch places with the demon, he would have direct access. It might not be much, but perhaps he could reach Simole. Ask her what she needed from him. Allow her to use whatever power she had left. There were many possibilities.


    He didn¡¯t know what he was doing, but how much risk was there when you¡¯ve already failed? His options were few, but at least he had some now. Time to stop feeling worthless and sorry for himself.


    He felt around in his mind until he latched onto the nagging, twitching thread that seemed to jerk his insides around. It had been tightly wound, and hard to distinguish until it had loosened. Now it was impossible to ignore. He drew it to him.


    It was difficult at first. Nothing seemed to happen. But it slowly became taut, then heavy.


    What are you doing?


    ¡°Come here a minute.¡±


    You wish to have me close?


    ¡°Very close.¡±


    There was resistance. Pulling away. He tightened his grip. He had built these walls, these streets. They cleared for him as he reeled the demon in.


    What... are... you... doing?repeated the demon, this time more firmly.


    ¡°Testing something. What do you taste like?¡±


    There was thrashing and he almost lost his hold. He yanked as hard as his mind would allow. It was like his head was splitting.


    He suddenly felt very full. Even though the demon had unravelled to a smaller rendition of its previous incarnation, it still filled him, making him feel like an overstuffed toy. He was wrapped around the demon, and could feel it begin to dissolve. He was consuming it.


    The struggling stopped.


    Finally. Finally.


    There was an exaltation to the voice he didn¡¯t like. The sick feeling he had been outwitted again washed over him. No, no, no. He had already lost. How could he lose more?


    He couldn¡¯t.


    You have done well. A quick learner. Very quick. I thought I would have to wait an eternity, but now we can begin.The voice was quieter, weaker, much more sinister.


    ¡°You were expecting this?¡± he asked quietly.


    Hoping. Waiting. This has always been dependent on when you were ready to make the sacrifice.


    ¡°I¡¯m not the sacrifice¡­ you are.¡±


    Of course. Little boys make poor offerings. Not enough meat on the bone. You are the door. I give myself gladly. Ahhh.


    He felt the demon move within him, like it was settling into a hot bath.


    ¡°No. I won¡¯t do this. I reject you.¡±


    He tried to push the demon out, but it wouldn¡¯t work. It was lodged in him, a fishbone in his throat.


    The demon laughed softly.So desperate to play the hero, to save everyone. You are so obvious, but you don¡¯t win the day by killing the demon. You lose because you failed to keep the demon alive.It laughed again.


    Quite the irony. By consuming the demon, he would satisfy the necessary requirements. He would open the gateway. He would become the door just as Simole had. No, not like her. She had some control over what happened to her. He had none. He had been prepared like a fattened calf. Cared for and fed well. Treated kindly so the meat wouldn¡¯t spoil. The demon had allowed itself to become weaker as he became stronger. Just enough so he could overcome the demon¡¯s natural resilience.


    He had been made stronger.


    ¡°You gave me power.¡±


    Yes. A tiny morsel. Thrilling, isn¡¯t it?


    Yes. Thrilling. He had been collecting arrows his whole life, and finally someone had handed him a bow. ¡°I¡¯ve never had power before.¡±


    There was a hesitation.Too little to mean anything.


    ¡°I don¡¯t believe you.¡±


    Nic grabbed onto himself, threw invisible arms around his consciousness. It felt ragged and bloated. He squeezed.


    What is that supposed to do?


    ¡°You¡¯re getting weaker too quickly. I don¡¯t want to miss out on the nourishment you could provide. I have to hurry.¡±


    A heat filled him as he fed. His blood sang.


    No, no, no.Stop. Stop!


    He sucked the demon in with everything he had. The demon screamed. It was the most wonderful sound Nic had ever heard.

 Chapter Thirty Nine

    Fanny came running out of the cottage, stumbling to catch up. He was carrying various items, and had yet more stuffed into his pockets. He swapped things around to get a more balanced fit as he ran, repeatedly stopping to pick up whatever he dropped.


    Dizzy led the way, the other two boys close behind her. It was dark, the night sky full of stars unhindered by clouds. There were lamps hanging along the path, lighting their way. Other than the four of them, no one was outside of their residence.


    ¡°What do we say if agents stop us?¡± asked Brill.


    ¡°They won¡¯t,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°They¡¯re busy.¡±


    ¡°How do you know that?¡± asked Davo.


    ¡°I have my sources.¡±


    Dizzy headed for the smaller of two adjacent red buildings. It was smaller, but it was still three storeys tall. Light flooded out of every window.


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure this is a good idea,¡± said Davo.


    ¡°I don¡¯t recall asking for your assessment,¡± said Dizzy.


    ¡°Is it really necessary to keep up this act?¡± said Davo, a little weary of the constant disparagement.


    Dizzy stopped and turned to face him. ¡°What act?¡±


    ¡°Can you not just drop it? Clearly you¡¯re very fond of Nic, despite this¡ª¡± his hands rose and fell in exasperated frustration ¡°¡ªwhatever this behaviour is. He came here for you. I thought that was the sort of thing girls liked. A boy willing to sacrifice everything to save the girl he likes.¡±


    It was already dark. Somehow the air around Dizzy seemed to get darker. ¡°I don¡¯t need saving.¡±


    ¡°I beg to differ,¡± said Davo in his most arch salesman tone. ¡°At the moment, I¡¯d say we all need saving.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°You all do. And if you stop distracting me, I¡¯ll see what I can do.¡±


    Thanks to their little spat, Fanny managed to catch up. Now he just had to stop them killing each other before an invading army of demons arrived. Davo was bigger and stronger, but Fanny had grown up with sisters. Size meant nothing.


    ¡°These girls,¡± said Fanny, panting from the exertion of running with pockets fully loaded, ¡°they won¡¯t be naked or anything, will they?¡±


    Dizzy¡¯s attention slid off Davo and took up residence on Fanny¡¯s red and puffing face. ¡°Yes, that¡¯s exactly what they¡¯ll be. Completely naked and swathed in oil. Will you be able to control yourself, Fanny?¡±


    It was more of a shock to hear her use his name than the sarcastic retort regarding nude and oily girls. Usually, she only addressed them with barely restrained hostility and an icy glare. She had to be warming to them. He found himself smiling and quickly put a stop to it. He knew only too well how girls reacted to any sign of condescension, and Davo had already primed the pump.


    ¡°I hope so. This is like a dream come true.¡±


    ¡°She doesn¡¯t want to hear about those sorts of dreams,¡± said Davo, wincing and shaking his head in a manoeuvre combining rebuff and incredulity in equal measure. ¡°None of us do.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t mean anything like that,¡± said Fanny, pretending to be offended. ¡°I just mean, you know, socialising with the other students. No one¡¯s invited us around for tea before.¡±


    He noticed a slight twitch in Dizzy¡¯s normally implacable features. A little light pity had pulled the sting from her tail, for now at least.


    ¡°There won¡¯t be time for tea.¡± She turned and began walking again, twice as fast.


    Fanny gave Davo a sharp look, hoping he would knock off the sniping. They all felt the pressure of the situation, additional stresses weren¡¯t going to help.


    Davo let out a sigh and followed her. Brill turned his head away, like he¡¯d been caught watching something he shouldn¡¯t have seen.


    There wasn¡¯t time to plan things out and take a careful, measured approach. Fanny trotted after them, moving his lower half as quickly as he dared without jostling his top half and dropping anything. He would have preferred to have time to test some of his newer ideas, try them out on the more Arcanum-dense occupants of the school, but that wasn¡¯t going to be feasible. He didn¡¯t know what he¡¯d need or which of his instruments would be more effective, so he¡¯d brought everything he could carry. Hopefully, one or two of them might actually work, assuming they didn¡¯t fall out of his pockets.


    Dizzy was already climbing the short set of stairs that led into the girls¡¯ dormitory. The double doors were open on one side, splashing a corridor of yellow light down the steps. She didn¡¯t stop to tell them where they¡¯d be going or what to expect. She simply walked in.


    The three boys paused on the steps, getting out of each other¡¯s way so someone else could go first. Davo and Brill stepped to either side and Fanny, bustling up from behind, shot between them and entered before he had a chance to consider his actions.


    Inside, there was a small vestibule with a side room. There was an open hatch, like half the door had been cut off, and the sound of snoring emanated from it.


    ¡°She never wakes up,¡± said Dizzy, appearing at the hatch with a large ledger balanced on one forearm while she scribbled in it with the pen in her other hand. ¡°There, you¡¯re officially my guests. If anyone asks, point them in my direction.¡± She vanished again and returned empty-handed.


    She let herself out of the half-door. And headed through another set of doors. As soon as she pushed the doors apart, warmth and noise filled the vestibule. Dizzy passed through and let the doors swing free. The three boys hurried forward before they closed.


    There was a hall with rooms on either side. There was also a set of broad stairs that curled up to the next floor. Dizzy was already halfway up.


    ¡°It smells like¡­¡± Fanny couldn¡¯t quite place it.


    ¡°Women,¡± said Davo. ¡°It smells like women.¡±


    It did, it reminded him of his mother¡¯s room. Perfume and powder and clean laundry. He¡¯d never considered what that smell was before, it was so familiar, yet always in the background.


    The stairs were carpeted so made no sound as they chased after Dizzy. She had a small build and long legs, although nowhere near as long as Davo¡¯s, or even Brill¡¯s. Yet she outpaced them both effortlessly.


    Fanny struggled to keep up with any of them. Short legs were a family trait, on both sides.


    There was more sound coming from above. High-pitched voices, laughter and exclamations. No worries or concerns, here.


    Dizzy turned on the landing and reversed direction. There were four rooms that Fanny could see, all with doors opened. The temptation to peer in was overwhelming. He resisted in case he saw something improper, but he could hardly be blamed if he glimpsed something out of the corner of an eye.


    Dizzy was already halfway up the next flight of stairs when a girl came out of one of the rooms.


    ¡°Hey, where have you been?¡± She had dusky skin and long, curly hair. And a nightshirt that didn¡¯t quite reach her knees. Fanny recognised the girl from the class they used to be in, before Nic had them moved to their appropriate level. He had never learned her name.


    The three boys froze and watched the two girls converse, Dizzy leaning over the banister, the dusky girl bouncing up and down on the balls of her bare feet.


    ¡°I¡¯m busy. Don¡¯t tell anyone you saw me,¡± said Dizzy. She was as curt as ever, but she didn¡¯t have the sharp edge to her voice she used when talking to them.


    ¡°Ooh, secret missions, is it? I suppose¡ªAh!¡± She had spotted the three males standing behind her, and reacted as any half-clothed girl would, darting back a few paces, ready to scream or run, or both. Then she took in the three of them, making a judgement that probably wasn¡¯t all that flattering, and her tensed shoulders relaxed. Then she placed one hand on her hip and cocked an eyebrow. ¡°Something I can do for you, Mr Epsteem?¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re with me,¡± said Dizzy.


    ¡°We¡¯re with her,¡± said Davo, very calmly. Fanny was shaking so much he could barely keep his pockets from spilling their contents onto the floor. He just smiled and tried to look like he had no idea how he ended up here, which wasn¡¯t too difficult.


    Davo took a step forward, but the girl moved to block his path. ¡°And what are you doing in the girls¡¯ house? Isn¡¯t that strictly against the rules?¡± She looked from Davo to Brill. ¡°Mr Epsteem? Does your father know where you are?¡±


    ¡°Almost always. If you don¡¯t mind, Miss Garroty, we¡¯re on something of a schedule.¡± Brill was trying to sound blas¨¦ about the whole thing, like this was just another trip through a house full of girls¡¯ bedrooms, but Fanny could tell he was forcing the evenness into his voice.


    ¡°Out of the way, please,¡± said Davo, taking the more direct route. ¡°The quicker you let us pass, the quicker we can be out of here.¡±


    The girl looked at each of them, suspicion and curiosity in equal measure, and then up at Dizzy.


    ¡°You don¡¯t need to know,¡± said Dizzy.


    ¡°She¡¯s making us do it,¡± said Fanny, leaning in between the two taller boys. ¡°Don¡¯t make her cross.¡±


    If anything was going to convince the girl to show them some mercy, it was being persecuted by a greater power. Girls loved an underdog. It appealed to their sense of romance, according to the books he found lying around his house.


    ¡°Why?¡± asked the girl. ¡°What does she want you to do?¡±


    ¡°Carry her luggage,¡± said Fanny.


    ¡°Really?¡± she stepped back. ¡°We have porters to do that sort of thing.¡±


    ¡°The porters wouldn¡¯t find it hugely embarrassing,¡± said Davo, picking up Fanny¡¯s cue. ¡°We are being punished. Feel free to gloat, if that¡¯s what amuses you.¡±


    Between them, they were doing a pretty good job of explaining their presence without giving any details. Which was just as well as they didn¡¯t have any.


    ¡°Come on,¡± said Dizzy, continuing up the stairs. ¡°They won¡¯t carry themselves.¡± She also knew how to run with an idea, although Fanny strongly suspected she would always much rather it was one of her own.


    The Garroty girl moved aside, arms still folded across her chest. The nightshirt was made of very thin material, Fanny tried to not notice.


    The three of them stomped up the stairs, glad to have overcome their first obstacle. Worse than the guardian of a storybook castle, and she was only the one at the lowest level. What scantily clad sentinels lurked above?


    There were no more challengers, scantily clad or otherwise. There were more doors on the next landing. Dizzy paid them no attention and followed the banister around and back to the next flight going up. She was moving quickly and the three of them hurried to match her pace. They cleared the landing without any encounters.


    The top floor had two rooms, one opposite the other. Dizzy opened the door of one and went in. The boys followed, relieved to have made it to their destination without further opportunities for humiliation.


    The room was large, with an enormous bed at one end, and a fire burning at the other. There was an expensive-looking desk piled high with books.


    ¡°Lovely,¡± said Davo, stroking the side of the desk. ¡°Been in your family a long time, I would guess.¡±


    Dizzy gave him a tilted look, like she was considering saying something unnecessarily mean. ¡°Yes. A long time.¡± She tapped the chest at the foot of the bed with the toe of her boot. ¡°This.¡±


    It wasn¡¯t particularly big, not like some of the trunks students brought with them, but it would require two of them to carry. The three boys exchanged looks.


    ¡°You two are nearer the same height. Makes it easier to navigate the stairs,¡± said Fanny.


    ¡°If the stairs were level instead of at a slope, yes,¡± said Davo. ¡°These stairs¡­ very slopey.¡±


    Dizzy tapped her foot against the chest impatiently. ¡°Look, I don¡¯t care¡ª¡±You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    ¡°What is going on?¡±


    The boys all turned around to find a tall girl standing in the doorway. She had her hair tied into a bun on top of her head, creating a sharp frame around her face. She was wearing a very skimpy vest and tights. It was a very unusual outfit, not suitable for going out or going to bed. Perhaps it might allow extensive range of motion during exercising.


    ¡°What are you staring at?¡± said the girl. Fanny shook himself out his reverie and realised his gaze was pointed directly at her chest.


    ¡°Nothing. I mean, how do you do?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re with her,¡± Davo said, pointing at Dizzy in the hope of moving the conversation to some other part of the room, preferably as far away from him as possible.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t ask you for your permission slip, I asked what was going on. I suggest you tell me before I inform one of the staff. Not only are boys not allowed in this building, we¡¯re supposed to be under curfew. Explain yourself.¡±


    She spoke in a manner that was brusque and confident. She looked older; a second year, probably. She certainly didn¡¯t seem intimidated by Dizzy like the rest of their year.


    ¡°It¡¯s alright,¡± said Brill. ¡°We¡¯ll be gone momentarily. We¡¯re just fetching something for my father.¡±


    Fanny could see that was a mistake. Using his father was bound to lead to complications, even if it were true. Too many questions that had no good answers.


    ¡°The curfew¡¯s over,¡± said Fanny. ¡°The cafeteria¡¯s open for supper, if you¡¯re hungry.¡± He smiled at her in the most gormless way possible.


    ¡°No, I¡¯m not. Thank you.¡± Her gratitude was spiked all kinds of ungrateful. ¡°Why are there boys here, Delzina?¡± Her voice had gradually risen to a shout. It was nicely done, so you didn¡¯t notice how angry she was until it was too late, and you were caught in a mixture of polite conversation and intense interrogation. Her parents had to be very important people to produce such a vehemently confident offspring. She had very piercing blue eyes, too.


    ¡°It¡¯s got nothing to do with you,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°Please go back to your own room. You two.¡± She indicated Davo and Brill without moving but somehow making her choice completely clear. ¡°Pick it up. We have to go.¡±


    ¡°Nobody¡¯s going anywhere until I get some answers. Don¡¯t think you can ignore me just because you have a scary father. Mine is no walk in the park, either.¡± She had her hands on her hips now, not the least bit shy about exposing herself in her revealing clothes. Fanny had no idea women were this brazen in their natural habitat. His own sisters were, but that was at home. Apparently it was a common trait to have no fear of male examination. Although, it may have had something to do with the males in attendance.


    There was some noise from outside the door. Footsteps and voices. Very soon there were a multitude of faces peering into the room.


    ¡°What are you waiting for?¡± said Dizzy, acting like they weren¡¯t being hotly observed.


    Davo and Brill stepped forward and grabbed one side of the chest each. There was no indication of how Dizzy intended to get past the blockaded doorway, but she didn¡¯t seem unduly concerned.


    The two boys nodded to each other, and then tried to lift the chest. They managed to get in less than a centimetre off the ground before having to put it down again.


    ¡°What have you got in there?¡± said Brill, his face bright red from the exertion.


    ¡°Is it nailed to the ground?¡± said Davo, annoyed. ¡°Your idea of a joke?¡±


    Fanny looked over at the crowd of girls watching. Many smirks were in evidence. Had Dizzy intentionally set out to embarrass them? No, it would have been a waste of time. They had far more important matters to deal with. Matters that were just as important to her as to them.


    ¡°Can¡¯t we just take what we need?¡± asked Fanny. ¡°We don¡¯t have to take the chest itself, do we? That¡¯s probably what¡¯s weighing it down so much.¡±


    Dizzy frowned but nodded. She bent down and opened the clasp. When she pushed the lid back, the air in the room seemed to get heavier.


    ¡°Have you got a source of Arcanum in there?¡± said Fanny, making his way to the open chest, no longer interested in maintaining a harmonious atmosphere.


    He could feel the girls push in behind him to see what treasures had been revealed. There were no jewels or trinkets. No silky gowns stored for special occasions. It was all mechanical gear one might need for climbing trees or digging through tunnels.


    Fanny pulled things out with no consideration for decorum. He didn¡¯t ask, he just rummaged, tossing aside anything that looked too primitive. They were heavy and awkward to move, but he was too eager to worry and let them slam onto the floor. At the bottom of the chest were stacks of small boxes.


    ¡°What are these?¡± said Fanny, more to himself. ¡°Devices your father uses to keep track of you? You found them all and kept them in here? Perfect stacking to make them cancel out the signal. Nice, nice.¡±


    ¡°Can you use them to get a better idea of where Nic is?¡± asked Dizzy.


    ¡°Oh, yes, I think so.¡± Fanny was sure he could, his biggest problem was what to try first.


    ¡°Is he right?¡± said the second year. ¡°Have you been keeping Arcanum in here?¡± She didn¡¯t sound pleased.


    Fanny pulled boxes and wires out of his pockets. He began connecting them to the ones in the chest, rapidly switching the connections from one to the next.


    ¡°Have you any idea how dangerous that is?¡± said the disgruntled girl. There were murmurs of sympathetic discontent around her, like tuning forks picking up a sour note.


    ¡°I¡¯m only going to tell you once, Myanda.¡± There was a tone in Dizzy¡¯s voice that was cold to the point of chillburn. ¡°Go away. The same goes for the rest of you. I don¡¯t have time for you, and it won¡¯t be pleasant if I have to assist with your compliance. I¡¯ve been very tolerant of you, but my father always says you should be wary of being lenient towards those who offer you no threat. Circumstances change and by then it may be too late to instill terror in a friend. But we aren¡¯t friends, and I can instill a lot of terror very quickly.¡±


    She began picking up the items Fanny had tossed aside and handing them to Brill and Davo.


    ¡°Why are they so damn heavy,¡± said Davo, struggling to hold them.


    ¡°The better question to ask yourself is, why are you so weak?¡± said Dizzy.


    ¡°She¡¯s been proximity-loading them,¡± said Brill. He pointed at the chest. ¡°Keeping them in the same box as those to concentrate the residual Arcanum.¡±


    ¡°What the hell for?¡± said Davo. ¡°When were you planning to use this stuff?¡±


    ¡°Today. I was planning for today. I just didn¡¯t realise today was going to be so soon, or I¡¯d have a lot more.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re crazy,¡± said Mayanda. ¡°I¡¯m going to get someone.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°You better hurry.¡± She turned her back on her.


    ¡°Out of the way,¡± said Fanny, pushing the others aside, even Dizzy. ¡°I need some room.¡±


    He quickly set up the boxes in a formation he thought he¡¯d never have the materials to attempt. Everything else faded into the background as he measured out the distances with the tape he¡¯d stuffed into his breast pocket as an afterthought. He had to be as precise as he could get it, and then hope for the best.


    Everyone else paused their disputes to watch him. He moved around the room, waving people out of the way. Once he got the outer perimeter as close to correct as possible, he began connecting them with a lattice of wiring. Within a few minutes the floor was covered in a web that sparked with blue light.


    ¡°This is so dangerous,¡± said Mayanda.


    ¡°Then leave,¡± said Dizzy.


    No one left. They were all in the upperclass. All bright students who understood the magnitude of what Fanny was attempting. They had read the theory, now they were seeing something that only members of the Royal College had seen in person. An Arcanum array.


    ¡°What¡¯s he going to do with it?¡± asked one of the girls. She was shushed by the others.


    ¡°You better hurry up,¡± said Davo.


    ¡°I have to get this right,¡± said Fanny, on his knees, head bent trying to eyeball the right angles.


    ¡°No, you have to hurry up.¡±


    Fanny looked up. ¡°Why?¡±


    Davo was by the window, staring out. ¡°Someone just turned off the stars.¡±


    There was a confused silence, followed by a mad rush across the room. Fanny sprang to his feet and formed a wedge to force them to go around the array, words bursting forth to save his hard work. ¡°Careful. Stop! Don¡¯t step there. No, go round the sides, the sides.¡±


    There were eight of them, all too concerned with what Davo had said to pay him much attention. Luckily, they managed not to step on anything. It wasn¡¯t until they were pressed up against the two windows on the other side of the room that Fanny realised how few clothes they were wearing. He blushed hard.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think they¡¯ve gone out,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°They¡¯re hidden.¡±


    ¡°By what?¡± said Brill. ¡°There aren¡¯t any clouds.¡±


    ¡°Didn¡¯t the Gweur chap use something like this to hide himself from the agents?¡± said Davo.


    ¡°What does Gweur have to do with this?¡± said Mayanda. She was ignored.


    ¡°The whole sky?¡± said Brill.


    ¡°Not the whole sky,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°The whole school.¡±


    ¡°Like a tea cosy,¡± said Fanny. ¡°Yes, that¡¯s possible. They don¡¯t want anyone seeing in or out.¡±


    ¡°What about the Secret Service?¡± said Dizzy. ¡°They must be aware of it.¡±


    ¡°They weren¡¯t when the Gweur guy did it,¡± said Fanny. ¡°Or Denkne.¡±


    ¡°Same ability?¡± asked Davo.


    ¡°Similar,¡± said Fanny. ¡°Might be a coincidence. Or completely unrelated.¡±


    ¡°What are you talking about?¡± said Mayanda, her voice rising again. ¡°Is this some kind of attack by Gweur?¡±


    The girls around her looked scared. The last thing they needed was a bunch of panicked girls.


    ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± said Davo, his voice full of calm reassurance. ¡°It¡¯s not what¡ª¡±


    The lanterns in the room flickered, plunging the room into darkness for a few seconds. There was a sharp intake of breath behind them. It came from the middle of the room. Everyone turned towards the glittering web on the floor. It was trembling.


    ¡°Nic?¡± said Fanny, falling to his knees. ¡°It¡¯s Fanny. Can you hear me? Focus on my voice.¡± He moved the boxes in slight increments, adjusting the perimeter to intensify the glittering strands.


    There was a long exhalation that filled the room. ¡°Fanny?¡± It was weak and distant, but it was unmistakably Nic¡¯s voice.


    ¡°Yes! Yes, it¡¯s me. Where are you?¡±


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter. She¡¯s coming. They¡¯re all coming. I don¡¯t know how long I can¡ª¡± His voice faded out.


    Fanny moved wires and boxes, trying to recapture the signal.


    ¡°¡ªaway from here. Evacuate the school. Tell the Headmaster, try to contact the Secret Service if you can. I think they might have been neutralised. Send Brill. Tell his¡­ careful¡­ safe.¡±


    His voice faded away again. Davo turned to Brill who nodded and then rushed out of the door.


    There was a scream from inside the array. It was faint and crackly, but filled with anguish.


    ¡°Nic!¡± called out Dizzy.


    ¡°¡ªtarget the Pagoda. Destroy it. The demons can¡¯t get through. And if they do, they can¡¯t have so many hosts. They don¡¯t have time to make new bodies, but they can take ours. Children are easier to control. Get everyone¡ª¡±


    He was gone again. The girls were starting to come out of their shock and were getting scared, clinging to one another.


    ¡°Nic?¡± said Fanny. ¡°We can¡¯t get out. There¡¯s some kind of dome over the school. Blocking out the stars.¡±


    ¡°¡ªyes. Wait for me to¡­ then run. Be careful, there¡¯s another¡­¡±


    ¡°Another what?¡± said Fanny.


    ¡°¡ªPagoda. Dragons should do it.¡±


    ¡°Are you in the Pagoda?¡± said Davo.


    ¡°Davo? Yes. It doesn¡¯t matter. I can¡¯t escape, but I can close the door. I think.¡± There was another scream. ¡°Did you hear that?¡±


    ¡°That isn¡¯t you?¡± said Fanny.


    ¡°No. That¡¯s the demon. Thought it could feed me its power without losing control. I¡¯m going to close¡­ get messy.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll die,¡± said Davo.


    There was no response. Fanny shivered in the awful silence, looking around at the faces watching and listening closely.


    ¡°What about Simole?¡± said Davo. ¡°Is she lost?¡±


    ¡°She¡¯ll have to find her own way back. If anyone can¡ªnnngh!¡± Nic made a pained noise.


    ¡°What is it?¡± said Fanny. ¡°Are you okay?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, just getting a bit full. You better go find the Headmaster.¡±


    ¡°We sent Brill. What about Dizzy¡¯s father?¡± said Davo. ¡°We could get Dizzy to¡ª¡±


    ¡°Do NOT tell Dizzy.¡± He groaned again, this time for longer. ¡°Ha. That wasn¡¯t good. She kissed me once, you know. We were only ten, said she needed to do research. Probably doesn¡¯t even remember. My best day. I guess that means I¡¯ve had a pretty dull life.¡± He was panting hard now, getting quieter. Then he was gone.


    ¡°You aren¡¯t going to die,¡± said Dizzy.


    ¡°I think I can get him back,¡± said Fanny scrambling across the floor.


    ¡°Don¡¯t,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°We¡¯re leaving. Now.¡±


    ¡°What about us?¡± said Mayanda. ¡°You can¡¯t leave us here.¡±


    ¡°Someone will be here to help you soon,¡± said Dizzy.


    ¡°No they won¡¯t. We aren¡¯t deaf. Demons are coming and they¡¯re going to take over our bodies.¡± She was getting hysterical and the other girls weren¡¯t too far off, either.


    ¡°No one wants your body,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°He was just guessing. He¡¯s delirious. There aren¡¯t any demons. He has Arcanum poisoning and we¡¯re trying to save him without anyone finding out. That¡¯s why I didn¡¯t want to tell you anything, understand?¡±


    It was a decent attempt, but Fanny could tell they weren¡¯t buying it. There were no stars in the sky.


    They were on the verge of panic, he could sense it. He grew up with a house full of women. When they went, they went together. They laughed together and cried together, and when they got mad, they turned into something fearsome.


    That wouldn¡¯t work here, though. They needed to stay calm until help came, assuming it ever did.


    ¡°Enough of this crap,¡± said Mayanda. ¡°We¡¯re all going to stay here. I¡¯m the oldest, and I decide¡ª¡±


    Dizzy seemed to hop onto the taller girl¡¯s back. Her arm went around Mayanda¡¯s throat, her elbow sticking out under the chin. Mayanda went limp immediately. Dizzy held on and lowered her onto the bed. She kept her arm in place until Mayanda¡¯s eyes rolled up into her head, then she released her.


    She lay still, like she was taking a nap.


    The other girls were stunned and backed away in a huddle.


    ¡°Stay here,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°Help is coming, but it won¡¯t do any good if you¡¯re all over the school. Stay together. The demon will come after us. The further we are from you, the safer you¡¯ll be.¡±


    What she said was possibly true, possibly not, but she said it so convincingly, the other girls just nodded and sat on the bed around Mayanda¡¯s body.


    She turned to the boys. ¡°Grab everything and let¡¯s go.¡± They certainly weren¡¯t going to argue with her.


    Fanny hesitated and then went to the girl who had accosted them downstairs. She looked meek now, on the edge of the bed.


    ¡°Here.¡± He handed her a small box. ¡°If you get in real trouble, activate it. I¡¯ll come back for you, if I can.¡±


    She took it from him and held it close to her chest, eyes no longer mocking him, closer to adoration. She grabbed his arm and pulled him closer and kissed him on the cheek.


    He rushed out of the room, grinning like an idiot, not really knowing where he was going, Davo behind him, shaking his head and muttering, ¡°Unbelievable. I¡¯ll come back for you? I¡¯ll feed you to the damn demon myself¡ªI¡¯d like to see you come back from that.¡±


    ***


    Master Denkne, Mage of the Royal College, stood on the roof of the library, his eyes on the Pagoda. There was no movement, no light. The Secret Service agents had come and gone. They had found nothing, he had made sure of that.


    ¡°It seems to be going well, does it not?¡± he said quietly.


    ¡°Yes, it seems that way,¡± said a soft voice from behind him.


    ¡°What would you have done if he hadn¡¯t taken the sacrifice?¡±


    ¡°There are other sacrifices. He would have taken one, eventually.¡±


    ¡°One as powerful as your brethren?¡±


    ¡°The sacrifice need not be of the highest order of power. Better to be something more easily digested and not so potent. A mage, perhaps, such as yourself. Perhaps that¡¯s why you were sent here.¡±


    ¡°Gladly would I have offered myself.¡± He turned and looked at the librarian with a resolute smile on his lips. ¡°If that was your wish, I would not hesitate to obey. But I would serve you better in other ways.¡±


    ¡°Would you? Better than the citizens of Gweur, ready to lay down their lives?¡±


    ¡°They are mercenary. Their loyalty is bought with gifts of power and promises of revenge. They do not value what they cannot trade, such is their belief. A thing must cost to have value in their world, otherwise they do not recognise its worth.¡±


    ¡°But even so, there are times when a mercenary is needed. A cruel cunning and cold wisdom. So vicious when facing your own kind. And what of you, little mage? What does your loyalty cost?¡±


    ¡°Mine is given freely, for it is not loyalty but love.¡±


    ¡°And what value has your love to me? The human heart is a diseased organ that expires well before its host. Loyalty has at least some practical applications.¡±


    ¡°I have faith in my worth,¡± said Denkne, full of confidence. ¡°It will not be long now.¡±


    The librarian smiled. It was her least practised facial expression over the years. She had spent so much time among these people, she almost felt sorry for them.


    ¡°It will take longer than you think. They are coming to free him.¡±


    ¡°Who? The Archmage?¡±


    ¡°No. His friends.¡±


    Denkne let out a sigh. ¡°Oh. You wish me to stop them?¡±


    ¡°I wish you to try. Do not become complacent. All of you, so fat and contented in your undisputed mastery of the elements. The war will not be so close this time, I think. Go stop them, if you can.¡±


    Denkne smiled wryly, but left without argument. The librarian looked up at the blank canvas above, and thought of home, where every star was a fragment of her soul. She would welcome them back to this world so they could once again fill the sky.

 Chapter Forty

    The blank sky added a layer of unreality to proceedings. It also made it much darker. Light from windows pooled around the buildings, but quickly faded as Dizzy walked towards the Pagoda. Even the lamps along the path seemed diminished and offered minimal illumination.


    There was no one about. No students, no porters and no agents. She assumed they¡¯d been incapacitated one way or another. Killed, engaged in battle, blinded, distracted, removed from the grounds...


    ¡°What is it you expect to do?¡± asked Davo, catching her up with long strides. ¡°Snap your fingers and make all the demons disappear?¡±


    Dizzy ignored him and kept walking, slightly ahead of the other two so they would understand the structure of their impromptu rescue party.


    In her experience, actions established order much faster than words, especially with children. She had realised that when she was ten years old¡ªeven before that, if truth be told¡ªand had put it to good use during her time at Ransom.


    Thanks to their strict Ranvarian upbringing, the students were primed for obeying a firm and methodical hierarchy. She had seen that immediately, and had been only too happy to place herself in the vacant position at the head of the table.


    Unfortunately, those brought up in a less regimented manner were less susceptible to being dominated. They were more likely to feign fealty, performing very much like those who were truly subservient, but never truly accepting subjugation. Especially if she was only introduced to them after they had already started to think for themselves.


    It was an interesting problem she hadn¡¯t encountered before, but one she would no doubt encounter with greater frequency going forward, so well worth coming to grips with.


    ¡°Hey, slow down,¡± called out Fanny. ¡°How is this stuff so heavy? Can we swap? Wish I¡¯d gone with Brill, now. Probably sitting by a fire with a hot drink.¡±


    ¡°But surely the love of a good woman has you floating with the strength of ten men,¡± said Davo, rearranging his own burden.


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t like that. She¡­ what was her name, by the way?¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t even remember her name! What a gigolo you have turned out to be. Just handed her your saviour box for the price of a kiss.¡±


    ¡°Um, yes.¡± Fanny blushed, which was an impressive thing to do so clearly under such dim lighting.


    ¡°What does that mean? What are you hiding, you low-rent lothario?¡±


    ¡°Come on,¡± said Fanny, suddenly finding his second wind and surging forward. ¡°We have to keep up with her ladyship.¡±


    Most servants and tradesmen were happy to know their place and play along, making their true feelings irrelevant, but those who thought a little too much of themselves, those who believed they were equally capable as those born into a family of high standing, weren¡¯t going to simply kowtow to the lord of the manor. Accidents of birth were hardly grounds for respect and admiration, she could see that.


    Dizzy suppressed her urge to put these two upstarts in their place. Instead, she would use them to refine her technique. How do you handle difficult subordinates who aren¡¯t obligated to follow orders? Rather than be irritated, she could use this experience as a valuable learning opportunity. Just because demons were threatening to invade didn¡¯t mean she had to disrupt her schedule.


    Her own ambition had led her to train herself to deal with those ahead and alongside her. They were the most likely to get in her way. Of course, there would always be the occasional anomaly who would rise from the ranks, but to do so without the benefits of superior guidance and opportunity meant there would be very few. Ransom itself only accepted four such pupils, but there was likely very little reason to open their doors to more.


    It would have been a waste of resources to prepare herself to deal with the kind of people she now found herself walking in front of. The fact that it would have come in so useful now was something she couldn¡¯t have predicted. She would have to improvise and use her wits, which were sharp enough to handle the unexpected. If she treated it as a practical exercise, the experience would provide her with the ability to be that much more efficient in the future, should a similar encounter occur.


    Once she¡¯d thought it through and come to the reasonable and logical conclusion that vexing as her current situation was, it would ultimately work to her benefit, she was able to relax and regain full control of her concentration.


    ¡°I think she¡¯s ignoring us,¡± said Fanny.


    ¡°I think she¡¯s desperately trying to think of a way to get us to do what she wants without having to say please,¡± said Davo.


    They were both speaking loud enough to be sure she would hear them. Another strange way to behave. Why say something provocative and insulting with the express intention of being overheard? She knew many of her fellow students talked about her behind her back, and that was not only to be expected, but encouraged. It gave them an outlet for their anxiety, and also spread that anxiety to others like a contagion.


    But these two seemed to be using their anxiety to take potshots. They had less to lose, so were happier to gamble on gaining some kind of respect for their audacity, presumably.


    ¡°I don¡¯t like how dark the sky is,¡± said Fanny. ¡°Makes it feel like we¡¯re in a box, waiting for someone to open the lid and stick their hand in.¡±


    She glanced up involuntarily. The sky was uniformly black, with no texture and no outline. If anything convinced her there really was a demonic presence in Ransom, it was that. Magic might be the cause of the dome of darkness covering the school, but the reason someone would go to such lengths could only be something very drastic. If not demons, something equally problematic.


    ¡°As long as they want to keep us confined,¡± said Dizzy, ¡°they want to keep us alive. That¡¯s the only thing you need to glean from the dome¡¯s presence.¡±


    ¡°I think there are a number of other things we can glean from the dome¡¯s presence,¡± said Davo, ¡°such as the power level of the people who put it over the school, the likelihood that they have other, even more daunting powers to use against us, and the very real possibility that they are on the school grounds right now, probably watching us and wondering what we¡¯re doing with all this gardening equipment.¡±


    Both boys were loaded with the equipment from her chest, none of which would be very useful for gardening, but it would come in useful if they needed to dig through a collapsed building. She was carrying a coiled rope over her shoulder, ready to be deployed at a moment¡¯s notice.


    ¡°You may well be right,¡± said Dizzy, ¡°but there¡¯s nothing we can do about any of that. Which is why it¡¯s irrelevant. We are at a disadvantage, and when there is absolutely no way to achieve an overarching victory, you focus on one thing and try to achieve it to the best of your ability. They, whoever they might be, have taken on a large and overwhelming situation. I don¡¯t care who they are, you can¡¯t fight on so many fronts and maintain full vigilance in all areas. We only have one goal¡ªfinding Nic. Our advantage is in being able to focus all our resources in one area.¡±


    She wouldn¡¯t normally have taken the time to explain herself to those she considered her workers. Giving people a reason to follow orders set a dangerous precedent. You may not have good reasons for things you ordered in the future, but you would still want those orders carried out.


    In this case, however, it was the most expedient way to mollify her reluctant followers. It was unlikely she would need them again, so spoiling them with shared knowledge was unlikely to come back to bite her.


    ¡°We¡¯ll find Nic, dig him out, and then find somewhere to hide while the Secret Service take care of the rest.¡± Give them simple, positive tasks, and they would soon trust her commands implicitly.


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t have put you down as such an optimist,¡± said Davo. ¡°Nic has a much more rigorous approach. He assumes everything that can go wrong, will go wrong. It makes him shockingly well prepared for any eventuality.¡±


    The comparison made her hackles rise, but she let it pass. How Nic would or wouldn¡¯t react in her place was beside the point. No one would know unless they were in this position having to make decisions on the fly. What people assumed from the comfort of their minds was worth nothing. And not worth commenting on.


    ¡°Nic has always been too slow to act,¡± said Dizzy, unable to heed her own advice. ¡°Which is fine if you have the luxury of having time to prepare, but that isn¡¯t always the case. Especially if your opponents know what you¡¯re capable of, as ours clearly do. They¡¯ve set up a perimeter, managed to keep the Secret Service contained, and they¡¯ve yet to reveal themselves which means they aren¡¯t even in danger of being counterattacked. Books don¡¯t fight back.¡±


    ¡°I think we should take a break,¡± said Fanny, gasping for breath. The equipment the two boys carried wasn¡¯t particularly large or bulky, but it was heavy. The density had been increased by their exposure to Arcanum over a long period. ¡°Or maybe you¡¯d like to carry some of this stuff. It is yours, after all.¡±


    ¡°Now, now, Fanny. There¡¯s no point delegating if you end up doing everything yourself. Or anything.¡±


    They had crossed the campus to the cafeteria, which was dark and quiet. The Pagoda was just behind the library, only a few more minutes away. She didn¡¯t know what would be waiting for them when they got there, so a little reconnaissance seemed in order.


    ¡°Wait here, I¡¯ll check to see if anyone¡¯s watching the Pagoda.¡±


    ¡°You think they¡¯ll be sitting outside waiting for you?¡± said Davo. ¡°They¡¯re probably hiding in the shadows.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s where I¡¯ll look, then. Try to get your strength back, there¡¯ll probably be a lot of digging to do.¡±


    Fanny groaned. ¡°Couldn¡¯t you have brought along some of your oafish minions? They look like they¡¯d be good at that sort of thing. Tell them there¡¯s a bone buried under the Pagoda and watch them race to get at it first.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s that supposed to mean?¡± said Dizzy, perplexed but sure she should be offended on behalf of her oafish minions.


    ¡°It means,¡± said Davo, ¡°that people judge you by the company you keep. You surround yourself with sycophants and violent thugs. You¡¯re a means to an end kind of girl, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°What if I am?¡± She hadn¡¯t had it put to her so bluntly before, but there was no shame in being the kind of person who got the job done. It was what the entire kingdom had been built on.


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s very hard to trust someone like that. They¡¯re always justifying their actions by claiming it¡¯s for the greater good.¡±


    ¡°And what if it is for the greater good?¡±


    ¡°Whose?¡± asked Davo very flatly.


    ¡°I don¡¯t have time to debate politics with you,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°Suffice to say you would lose. Wait here, I¡¯ll be back in minute.¡±


    ¡°Wait,¡± said Fanny. ¡°How will we know if you need us?¡±


    What kind of question was that? ¡°I¡¯ll tell you when I come back.¡±


    ¡°He means what if you get caught or trapped.¡±


    Unlikely as that seemed, it was a possibility. ¡°Give me one of those boxes you gave Garroty.¡±


    Fanny stared blankly at her.


    ¡°Go on,¡± said Davo. ¡°She can use it to call us.¡±


    ¡°Um. The thing is, I just gave her an empty box.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± said Davo, appalled. ¡°It won¡¯t send out a distress signal.¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Why did you do that?¡±


    ¡°I just wanted her to feel better,¡± whined Fanny. ¡°I was being nice.¡±


    ¡°Oh, very nice. And what happens when demons try to break down her bedroom door and she presses the button to summon her hero? You don¡¯t think she¡¯ll be a little disappointed in you?¡±


    ¡°She won¡¯t be disappointed for very long,¡± mumbled Fanny.


    Davo shook his head. ¡°That poor girl. To think she gave you a kiss for that.¡±


    Dizzy had had quite enough of these two. ¡°Just wait here.¡± She ran towards the library without waiting for a response. This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    As she hurried away from the two idiots, she heard one ask, ¡°What do you think he sees in her?¡±


    The other one answered, ¡°You really have to ask?¡±


    She felt like running back and demanding they explain what they meant, by force, but she didn¡¯t have time. She jumped onto a window ledge and propelled herself up. Scaling it wouldn¡¯t be a problem, it had many handholds and plenty of ledges. Once on the roof, she¡¯d have a much better view of the Pagoda, and a better chance of seeing any other observers.


    She enjoyed climbing. It was when her mind felt at its freest. While her body employed every muscle and tendon in an attempt to defeat gravity, her thought flowed as though no longer connected to her or any of her more mundane problems.


    She couldn¡¯t rely on the Secret Service, that much was apparent. It made her realise how short-sighted she¡¯d been in not studying their methods more closely. Apart from a broad understanding of their procedures and what they would and would not allow from the student body, she knew very little of their actual procedures and methods.


    Her thinking had been that they would take care of whatever fell under their purview, so it wasn¡¯t something that required her consideration. She only needed to make sure she was able to handle the situations that directly affected her. Now she could see how foolish that was.


    Only by understanding how the Secret Service operated could she become aware of their weaknesses. Which would then make her aware of the strengths of anyone who managed to constrain them.


    It was obvious now that she was in a position to need that information. If she knew what the enemy needed to be able to do, she would have a much better idea of what they were capable of, and therefore how to go about countering them.


    But she didn¡¯t know. She had assumed no one could overcome the Secret Service simply because no one ever had, which was stupid. Now she understood why Father was always so busy and looked so tired. He not only had to manage his own department, he needed to know the workings of all the others. That way, if they became compromised, he would know exactly what methods had been employed.


    Once the minor matter of demons and lost boys was taken care of, she would redirect her attention to understanding how other people functioned, and the best way to nullify them, starting with the Secret Service agents here on campus. Their proximity made them the ideal subjects for study, which she should have realised when she first arrived at Ransom and discovered their presence. Five years of research potential lost.


    Now she knew what her presentation project would be on. Her initial choice seemed pointless by comparison. She had the most fascinating topic right on her doorstep and the means to study them on a forensic level. Not that her presentation could be quite so explicit. If she truly presented a deconstruction of the Secret Service, she¡¯d end up getting arrested. Probably by her own father.


    She climbed over the parapet and onto the roof. It was flat and featureless, covered in black pitch. She kept low and moved silently. And then stopped. There was something ahead of her. Something on the roof. Not something small, either.


    It looked like a small building, a structure like a dome. It was hard to see clearly.


    It was the secret library they¡¯d accessed, where the librarian kept Winnum Roke¡¯s book. There was no obvious way in, as you¡¯d expect.


    She crept closer and reached out her hand touched it. The walls were smooth and glassy. If she had time she would have spent time trying to figure out how it worked, but not right now. She had other business to attend to.


    She went around it, keeping an eye out for any more invisible rooftop features.


    ***


    Nic felt bloated.


    He wanted to sleep and let himself rest. Every part of him hurt. Not the kind of pain that came from broken bones or bruised flesh. He ached from within, like a child who had eaten too many sweets, had kept going when his body had reacted with nausea and dizziness, ignored the sweat on his brow to force down one more sugary treat, and now lay immobile, regretting every delicious moment.


    He lay still, unable to rest, occasionally laughing for no reason.


    He tingled with raw power that made him tremble if he didn¡¯t force his mind to restrain it. He was able to hold it down, but little else.


    He could still sense the demon close by. Smaller, weaker, an empty husk.


    The demon had been unable to stem the tide. Nic had taken it all, ripped every morsel from the demon¡¯s being. It had been remarkably easy. Once he had the demon in his grasp, it was like placing a straw in a cup. He sucked out every last drop.


    It had filled him in a way he hadn¡¯t expected. It wasn¡¯t like the time he had been poisoned with an overdose of Arcanum, this was more like being fed too much soft cheese. Only, the more that was squeezed into him, the more compact and hardened it became. And the more rigid his body felt.


    What was the point, though? If he didn¡¯t find a way to use the power now within him, all he would have achieved was to do the demon¡¯s job for it. He needed to convert what he had taken into a tool, into a weapon. Into a door to some place other than here. He wondered if that was possible.


    Your Green Demon is no demon at all, muttered the voice in his head. It had been relentlessly trying to explain Nic¡¯s story, no longer concerned with anything else.


    ¡°He is as much a demon as you,¡± said Nic.


    The Green Demon maimed the child for his own amusement. The demon sounded tired and uncertain.


    In the story, the Green Demon had scarred a pretty girl.


    ¡°Would you have found it amusing?¡± asked Nic.


    No. Pain is only amusing to the desperate.


    ¡°Show me how to leave this place,¡± said Nic.


    I cannot. I will not. You must find your own way. The words rang with a finality that unnerved him. Even at its weakest, the demon would not relent.


    While the demon squirmed to hold on to its last vestiges of existence, Nic squirmed as the enormous power he held tantalisingly offered him a way to be free while refusing to show him how.


    But inflicting pain was not the only way to control others. It could be done just as effectively by inflicting pleasure.


    ¡°Your mistake,¡± said Nic, ¡°is in assuming the Green Demon was unchanged by his many years in captivity. Or assuming he resented those years.¡±


    There was a moment of stillness between them. He gained from those years, said the demon, hesitant but clear.


    ¡°He changed,¡± said Nic. ¡°You cannot change the function of a thing and not change its shape. And you can¡¯t change its shape without changing its function.¡±


    He became more like those who surrounded him.


    ¡°When you face a power that is able to control you, whether by force or subterfuge, you can destroy it and hope it will be lost forever.¡±


    All knowledge will once again resurface, said the demon.


    ¡°Or you can learn it yourself.¡±


    And become changed by it.


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Nic.


    The girl he maimed¡­ your kind are repulsed by ugliness, especially in yourselves. You bury it so not to see it, but her scars were on the surface, stealing her confidence. She would have grown to be his rival.


    ¡°Yes,¡±


    The man whose house the Green Demon burned down, he was a pillar of the community, one of their own.


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    The gutted house would reveal the places he had kept hidden, the man he truly was.


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    The demon¡¯s voice was stronger now. Growing. Unable to trust in their neighbours, they would turn to an outsider.


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    The rats he led out of the city¡­ a gift they would take as a sign of his ability to help them, to save them, to lead them. He wished to be their leader. Not by force, but by acceptance. They would make him their king.


    ¡°Yes. You are right, except that the Green Demon failed.¡±


    No, howled the demon, its newly refound confidence wavering. How?


    ¡°You wish me to tell you?¡± said Nic, simply, plainly.


    Yes.


    ¡°If I do, will you be grateful?¡±


    Yes.


    ¡°Will you show me the way to leave this place?¡±


    Yes.


    Nic smiled. The power was less uncomfortable now. ¡°Then show me, and I will tell you.¡±


    ***


    Dizzy looked down at the Pagoda. Light from the main campus was the only source of illumination, and it provided very little. She could make out the Pagodas shape, but that was all. If there were people down there watching, they were too well hidden to be seen from up here.


    She wasn¡¯t sure what she¡¯d expected. A ring of armed men holding torches aloft, perhaps. Something easy to identify as the enemy. It would have been more convenient, but she might as well have hoped for them to have colds and for their sneezes to give away their positions.


    She had no choice but to get closer. At least the Pagoda was intact. She had feared it would be a collapsed ruin, quietly dropped on Nic¡¯s head. Trust him to get himself trapped in the only place on the school grounds she hadn¡¯t thoroughly inspected.


    She removed the rope from over her head and hooked it onto the roof. It had a simple device attached to one end that would stick to any surface and remain so until pulled off with a specific rhythm. It had been one of the first uses for Arcanum-loading she had learned of, and had helped her get into many spots she shouldn¡¯t have been able to reach. Now it was going to drop her into the middle of a spot she might never be able to leave.


    She dropped the rope over the side and then ran down the wall, head first, holding onto the rope to stop herself falling. Her feet touched down softly as she swung herself off the bottom of the rope. She left it attached in case she needed to climb back up quickly, although she doubted that would be necessary. Anything she encountered here would most likely not let her get away so easily.


    She crouched and listened, her hearing at least wasn¡¯t obscured by the darkness. There were no sounds other than a soft breeze through branches.


    ¡°Attend me.¡± She felt the shape move around her rather than saw it. ¡°Search around the Pagoda. Check for any hidden observers. Human or otherwise.¡±


    ¡°Area is clear,¡± said the wraith without moving.


    Dizzy didn¡¯t like the way it had been so sure. ¡°How did you check?¡±


    ¡°Arcanum field scan.¡±


    She reached into her pocket and took out a small button. It had been in the chest, one of the tracking devices her father had placed on her¡ªthe one he thought she¡¯d never find, probably. It always perturbed her that it might not be, and there was one she hadn¡¯t found, but she had been very thorough and was more or less certain.


    She placed the button on the nail of her thumb, and then flicked it into the air, as far from her as possible. It landed silently out in the dark somewhere.


    ¡°Locate the button.¡±


    ¡°Button is no longer present,¡± said the wraith, very sure of itself.


    ¡°You just saw me toss it over there,¡± she said, a little irked at how dense her father¡¯s creations could be. Which was the main reason she had been able to override their instructions, but it was still annoying to deal with. ¡°How do you think it disappeared?¡±


    There was a moment of silence. ¡°Arcanum field has been manipulated.¡±


    ¡°Yes. Now, search the area for any observers. Manually.¡±


    The wraith vanished in a wisp of smoke.


    ¡°That¡¯s very impressive,¡± said a voice from her left.


    Dizzy sprang back as a light flared into life, orange at first, then settling to yellow, flickering off the leaves and plants behind him as Denkne appeared out of the dark.


    She composed herself almost immediately. This was one of the outcomes she had been prepared for. She just hadn¡¯t expected it to occur without any warning whatsoever. ¡°Mr Denkne? Why are you here?¡± She looked around for any other surprise visitors.


    ¡°I believe I should be asking you the same question, Miss Delcroix. I take it that was one of your father¡¯s sentinels. Amazing. And you seem to be able to control it without using Arcanum.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s assigned to watch over me. With varying levels of success.¡±


    Denkne smiled, his teeth matching his pale face in colour, making the expression seem painted on his face. ¡°But the level of sustained Arcanum to keep it active and following orders¡­ the strain on your poor father must be immense. He must love you very much to risk the possible side-effects.¡±


    Dizzy found him irritating, and assumed he was doing it deliberately. Put her off-balance by insinuating her meddling was putting her father¡¯s life in danger. He wasn¡¯t behaving like a concerned teacher, he was more like a guard, probing to find out what secrets a trespasser had overheard.


    ¡°Why are you here, Master Denkne? Weren¡¯t you sent to make sure the Tutt boy was kept safe from harm? Because I think you¡¯ve failed that task. Unless that was your objective all along. Do you long for the return of demons and wish to be a favoured vassal, like your people before you?¡±


    He reacted, if only slightly, but she had touched a nerve. Two could play the off-balance game.


    She knew the stories of his countrymen, how they had tried to win favour with the demons by fighting against Ranvar. The stories were unproven rumours with no foundation, or at least none that had survived. The nations had different names then, but their white hair and pale skin had survived long after the flags and borders had changed.


    ¡°Why are you here, Miss Delcroix?¡± he said, without the smile.


    ¡°I noticed the stars fell out of the sky and came to take a look. I believe the Pagoda is at the heart of this particular mystery. The dome above us appears to be centred over it.¡±


    Only now that her mind raced to make excuses did she consider this. She had no way of knowing if it was true, but it sounded very plausible.


    ¡°Very perceptive,¡± said Denkne. ¡°We should leave here, allow the agents to deal with whatever is going on. Where are your two friends?¡±


    ¡°They went for help.¡± How did he know about the other two? He was a mage, but if he had seen them earlier, why wait until now to appear? Surely he would have told them to go back as soon as he spotted them.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to go in the Pagoda. I think there might be someone in there. My father is on his way, but I¡¯ve found a strange Arcanum signature in there.¡±


    ¡°What kind of signature?¡± asked Denkne, suddenly more interested in her pretend findings than his teacherly duty to get her to safety.


    ¡°I placed a tracker on the Tutt boy,¡± she lied. Of course, it was dangerous to tell untruths so blatantly around someone highly versed in the use of Arcanum, but he was more than a little tainted by falsehoods himself. ¡°It¡¯s hard to detect under these conditions, but my guardian can get into very difficult to reach places.¡±


    He nodded his head in a sympathetic, rhythmic way as she explained herself. ¡°Can it? That¡¯s very interesting. I think perhaps you better call it back, Miss Delcroix.¡± The light floating over his head brightened and there were blue sparks in his eyes. ¡°It¡¯s job is to protect you, after all.¡±


    ¡°That isn¡¯t its job,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°It just happened to be convenient for my father to have one watch over me. Originally, he designed it to protect the kingdom from what he considered the most likely threat to the throne.¡± She looked at him without fear. The power he was generating was impressive. She could feel the hairs on her arms rise.


    ¡°He didn¡¯t consider demons to be the greatest threat?¡± asked Denkne, Arcanum spitting from his fingers.


    ¡°No,¡± said. ¡°He¡¯s always been more concerned by mages.¡±


    The wraith appeared next to her, a shadowy figure of no discernible shape.


    ¡°Assess threat level,¡± she said.


    ¡°High.¡±


    ¡°Activate enslavement protocol.¡±


    ¡°Confirmed.¡± The wraith floated in front of her.


    ¡°How sweet. You really think that little thing¡¯s going to ¡®enslave¡¯ me?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°Activate reserves.¡±


    ¡°Confirmed,¡± said the wraith. Dark figures materialised, dozens of them, hovering above and around them.


    Denkne took a step back, his eyes no longer mocking her. A blast of energy flew out of his hand towards her. A wraith darted in front of it, absorbing the energy and growing larger.


    He fired again and again, but only strengthened the barrier around him.


    Dizzy turned and walked towards the Pagoda as the wraiths swooped down on their prey.

 Chapter Forty One

    ¡°We¡¯ve run into a problem.¡±


    ¡°You have?¡± said Minister Delcroix, surprised at the bluntness of the admission. ¡°You can¡¯t find the rebels?¡± He pressed the bridge of his nose between two fingers and willed the dull throb in his head to go away. It receded, a little.


    ¡°No, we found them. Reports indicate that they¡¯re holed up in the warehouses to the east of the city. We¡¯ve established a perimeter and my team is in position.¡±


    ¡°Then what is the problem, agent?¡±


    The man he was speaking to wore a red mask covering most of his face. Only his mouth was visible, and his lips were twisted with unease, which was not what you expected of someone in his position. Secret Service agents rarely expressed emotion, and if they did, it was even rarer for that emotion to be concern.


    ¡°Usually we¡­ that is, our site inspection is incomplete. We haven¡¯t been able to get a clear picture of what kind of defences they have, or how many of them there are.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯ve flooded the area with raw Arcanum. You were briefed that they would, were you not?¡±


    ¡°Yes, Minister. We came prepared. It¡¯s not that.¡± He hesitated again, like he couldn¡¯t quite find the right words.


    ¡°Please, agent, you¡¯re being tiresomely vague. Exactly what is the issue?¡± asked Delcroix, finding the agent¡¯s apprehension to speak up bewildering. He¡¯d never known the Secret Service to be anything less than needlessly enthusiastic in such situations. It was what they were bred for.


    ¡°It¡¯s me. I¡¯m the problem.¡±


    ¡°In what regard, agent?¡± It was protocol to refer to them as ¡®agent¡¯ no matter the rank. Their anonymity was operational policy. Occasionally colours were used to identify individuals when several were seen together, to avoid confusion. It wasn¡¯t often necessary. Their job was to be seen as little as possible.


    ¡°I apologise. I cannot shake a morbid sense of fear and foreboding. It is mild, but it is there. Yet the source... It can only mean I¡¯ve been compromised.¡±


    He was right. Agents didn¡¯t experience nerves or doubts. If the agent was struggling to function within the usual parameters, chances were it was an effect placed on him. Probably on the other agents, also. They were supposed to be resistant to that kind of meddling, but resistances could be worn down.


    ¡°You aren¡¯t incapacitated, though.¡±


    ¡°No. It¡¯s more subtle than that. I¡¯ve been unsure if it was even real, but I can¡¯t ignore the possibility that the enemy is in possession of more advanced abilities than we assumed. If they can target me specifically, and break through my protections, it suggests they have evolved beyond basic Arcanum use.¡±


    ¡°And the rest of your team? Are they similarly affected?¡±


    ¡°No. I¡¯ve questioned them. None of them are experiencing what I am.¡± His eyes, seen through the holes in his mask, were apologetic. ¡°We could still go in, it¡¯s not like we couldn¡¯t handle any resistance, unexpected or otherwise, but if their capabilities have improved markedly¡­¡±


    Delcroix could understand why the agent was being so cautious. The rebels had wreaked havoc across Gweur, disrupting almost every aspect of daily life. The government was at a loss about what to do. They didn¡¯t have any way to defend themselves against Arcanum ¡ª no one did. Ranvar had always prevented any kind of anti-Arcanum technology being developed by their neighbours. Which meant they were the only ones capable of bringing the rebels to heel.


    The attacks so far had been primitive and crude. Many rebels had died in an attempt to control powers well beyond their means, and many more civilians. The public had little sympathy for their cause. Ranvar¡¯s assistance had been welcomed warmly.


    In many ways it was an excellent education in the dangers of Arcanum for the people of Gweur. How destructive it could be in untrained hands. And also, a great example of the benevolence of the Ranvarians, ready to put the lives of their men and women at risk in order to aid their neighbour in need.


    As a public relations exercise, it was an opportunity to cement bonds and alliances, under very favourable terms. But if the rebels had begun to show finesse in their manipulation of Arcanum, even perhaps mastery, then this clean-up operation could quickly turn sour. A little caution was well worth exhibiting.


    ¡°I am ready to step down as mission leader. My second in command can¡ª¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said Delcroix. ¡°Let¡¯s not rush to judgement. If they are able to target a specific agent, it suggests two things. One, that they are aware of the command structure, which there is no logical way to explain other than infiltration, and second, that they view you as an effective threat who they wish to negate.¡±


    ¡°With all due respect, Minister, they may also view me as weak point susceptible to attack.¡±


    Delcroix looked the man up and down. Nothing about him stood out as suspect. No different to any other agent. What had marked him out? Who was he?


    Of course, Delcroix could easily find out this man¡¯s name. His background, his track record, the regard he was held in within the Service. But it wasn¡¯t necessary. They were selected for the job because they had the right instincts for the job. Accept orders without question, carry them out without hesitation. Secret Service agents didn¡¯t flinch, before, during or after. Those were the necessary qualities to serve. Those were the qualities that were reinforced during their training.


    They had a fluid and adaptable hierarchy. If this agent were to fall in battle, his place would be taken quickly and without debate. No disruption in the chain of command. If the Gweurians were targeting him, what good would making him feel slightly unsettled achieve?


    The agent waited for Delcroix¡¯s orders. He wasn¡¯t their commander, or in any way responsible for the mission, but the agent¡¯s self-doubt had left him second-guessing himself. He wanted to follow orders, not give them.


    It was not how he should have been acting.


    At least his confession was following protocol, so he wasn¡¯t completely lost. Agents were trained to reveal all intelligence gathered. The most inconsequential detail could turn out to be of vital importance, so fear of self-incrimination was rigorously leached out of them. To compromise oneself in order to provide a fuller explanation was considered a duty. Agents never concealed facts in an attempt to protect themselves or their reputation or hide mistakes. Such thinking was anathema to them.


    But if doubt was introduced, if second-guessing oneself led to delays in orders, it could do various degrees of damage. Was that really their gameplan? They couldn¡¯t possibly control the outcome of such a strategy, it would merely make things a little less efficient. A layer of chaos that could be filtered out once identified. Any advantage was worth gaining, of course, but only when a concerted effort was made. Small advantages eventually add up. An isolated incident, though, would be unlikely to bear any fruit.


    Unless, of course, this was merely one symptom of a much deeper problem. One, if not checked, they could end up fighting much closer to home.


    ¡°Did the Royal College send you a mage to assist?¡±


    ¡°Yes, Minister. They sent two.¡±


    Delcroix raised an eyebrow in mild surprise. The Archmage was obviously feeling generous. Or he suspected this operation wasn¡¯t going to go as smoothly as everyone had anticipated. It would have been a matter of concern that the Archmage¡¯s faith in the Secret Service was so low, if Delcroix hadn¡¯t already a number of doubts of his own. It wasn¡¯t their competence that was in question, although recent events had not won them many plaudits. The problem was the enemy, and their growing access to magic. His suspicions seemed to have been justified.


    When you base your strategy on keeping a particular weapon out of enemy hands, it can mean you will be unprepared to fight them if they find a way to obtain that weapon. As they had.


    The Secret Service had some training to deal with rogue mages, in particular those whose use of Arcanum had left them disoriented and unable to properly control their powers. An occupational hazard. Most of that training relied on the appropriate protective garments to prevent Arcanum being used against them in anything other than a simplistic fashion. Brute force could be countered with brute force. If those protections had been bypassed in some way, then he would need to find out how.


    That wasn¡¯t the only reason he had come to Gweur, though. His own agents had also identified this place as an important stronghold, and not only because so many rebels had gathered here, presumably to make a last stand of some kind.


    ¡°I think perhaps I should speak to these mages. See if they¡¯ve managed to uncover anything regarding your condition.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Minister.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re at the pagoda now?¡±


    ¡°Yes. I¡¯ll take you there. If you¡¯ll follow me.¡±


    A second pagoda, eerily similar to the one at the Ransom School, far too similar to be a coincidence, was what had drawn him here.


    How had it not been detected until now? What was its purpose? And why here?


    He had asked for a larger force to be sent, but his request had been denied. There were too many other targets that needed watching, and possibly defending. A small strike-force was deemed sufficient, for now. He had decided to come here to quickly check over the facility once the rebels were subdued. It was taking longer than anticipated.


    Minister Delcroix rose from the uncomfortable chair and paused to collect himself. His mind heavy and hard to steer. When the agent turned to lead the way out, Delcroix took out a small ampule and snapped it over his mouth. He drank down the bitter liquid and his mind cleared, for a moment. Then the fog began creeping back in at the edges.


    He dropped the ampule and crushed it under his boot as they left the small building that was the interim base.


    There were no agents in sight, but he knew they were present. The night sky was clear and full of stars. Their soft light irritated Delcroix¡¯s eyes. The over-sensitivity was a classic symptom of Arcanum-related dementia. How much time did he have left?


    ¡°This way, Minister. We can cut through here.¡± The agent pointed down the road.


    It wasn¡¯t cold, but Delcroix pulled up his coat collars. A wave of exhaustion washed over him and he had to steel himself not to show it. He had hoped not to have to use any magic on this trip, and had been avoiding doing so as much as possible of late, but he still felt drained nearly all the time. The medication the Archmage had given him was losing its efficacy. He had followed the instructions, but a strange restlessness haunted him. Sleep would not come.


    The town of Bruler was devoid of life. The roads were more like dirt tracks, strewn with pebbles and dead leaves.


    The buildings were empty shells. The outer walls still stood, mostly, but the windows were broken, the doors were rotten and hanging open, offering glimpses of the interiors: the remains of chairs and tables, pitiful toys, ragged clothing, fallen ceiling beams. It seemed like something that had happened a century ago, and what was left were just vague recollections of the event.


    But only a few years ago the town had been a thriving hub for the area. Bruler was once a vital storage facility for the local farms. They produced so much surplus, it had to be kept here until buyers could be found. Of course, once Ranvar agreed to take all of it off their hands, places like this became redundant.


    Ultimately they gained more than they lost, overall. But individuals were forced to relocate.


    They walked through the deserted streets, the agent holding a lantern to show the way.


    ¡°And you have enough men?¡± asked Delcroix, trying to normalise things. Just another mission. A group of reckless amateur and malcontents should not have presented much of a challenge. But to underestimate someone who could use magic, even if poorly, was never a good idea.


    ¡°More than adequate,¡± said the agent.


    ¡°It¡¯s mostly abandoned, isn¡¯t it?¡± asked Delcroix, even though he knew the answer already.


    ¡°Completely. Not one house is occupied. We did a thorough check.¡±


    An ideal place to hide a rebel army.


    The outline of the warehouses made distinct silhouettes against the night sky. They were huge, each as big as a city mansion. Twelve of them were set out in a grid, four by three, a short open space between them. They were more than simple barns, they were built with stone walls to protect the merchandise and harvested crops housed there before being sent to locations around the country. Stables stood somewhat apart from the looming buildings with room for dozens of animals. The stalls were broken and in a state of extreme disrepair, the structure dilapidated from simple lack of care and the power of unchecked weeds to split open the tiniest cracks.


    ¡°Did you find any plans for these buildings?¡± asked Delcroix.


    ¡°No, Minister. I don¡¯t think there are any. The town has no library, and the town hall is more of a gathering place than a repository for files and records.¡±


    The function of municipal buildings in Ranvar were clearly mandated by government. Any city would have the same basic civic structures, performing the same basic civic functions. A country like Gweur, predominantly an agricultural society, focused on farming needs more than building regulations. You could do as you pleased as long as you brought your crops to market on time. Still, they should have kept basic records.


    ¡°There may be tunnels under the warehouses,¡± said Delcroix, ¡°linking them to some hidden exit outside the city limits.¡± He had no proof for such a claim, but it would be very unusual for any merchant building not to have a way of circumventing city officials and customs duties.


    ¡°We¡¯ve seen no evidence of such tunnels,¡± said the agent. ¡°If they had been dug at some point in the past, the soft soil here is excellent for growing, not so useful for burrowing. None of the houses in Bruler even have cellars. I¡¯m sure such tunnels would quickly fall into disrepair once the warehouses were abandoned. Rotting timber braces and crumbling walls would quickly lead to collapse.¡±Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.


    Delcroix nodded. It was a reasonable, competent answer, but an unlikely one. Commerce always found a way to avoid taxes.


    ¡°We¡¯re watching the surrounding countryside,¡± said the agent. ¡°It¡¯s very flat and featureless. Even if they had a way out, it would be difficult to escape undetected.¡±


    The pagoda was in the middle of the warehouses, shielded on all sides by the enormous warehouses. It looked identical to the one in Ransom, the same number of tiers, the same flared eaves. The same windowless walls. It was dark and silent. If there was an army inside, they were keeping very quiet.


    Still no sign of any agents, but that was to be expected. A small group of lanterns had been placed by one of the warehouses, and two men were crouched in the pool of light.


    ¡°This is impossible,¡± said one, his words laced with irritation.


    ¡°And yet there it is,¡± said the other. ¡°Unless we are sharing the same hallucination.¡±


    They were dressed as workmen. Labourers in the fields, which would have been a reasonable disguise if there had been fields to labour in. They wouldn¡¯t draw too much attention, though. There was no one here to see through the attempted charade.


    ¡°This is Master Kamfel and Master Serteel,¡± said the agent, presenting the two men like they were at one of the Queen¡¯s garden parties. ¡°Both third order mages. Full clearance.¡± He turned to the two men. ¡°Minister Delcroix, of the Ministry of Instruction.¡±


    The mages were busy with a box on the ground between them, too focused to pay any attention to the new arrivals, but they both straightened their backs and nodded their respects when the agent mentioned which ministry he was from. Which might have been coincidental. Or it might not.


    ¡°You¡¯re here just in time,¡± said the shorter one who the agent had introduced as Serteel. He had a beard and close-cropped hair, making him look older than his age, which was probably his intention. ¡°We¡¯re going to show these amateurs how a real mage does it.¡±


    ¡°You can overcome the interference, can you?¡± asked Delcroix.


    ¡°Of course,¡± said Serteel. ¡°The Archmage told us what to expect. These buggers like to flood everything with raw Arcanum. Makes it a beast to see anything beyond the immediate, but we came prepared.¡± He crouched down and tapped the side of the box.


    ¡°We don¡¯t want to give them any warning, so we waited until it was nice and dark,¡± said Kamfel, who had a hooked nose and bright eyes. He had the same haircut as his colleague, and a similar if smaller beard.


    Delcroix knew from his time at the Royal College that students often took to idolising a particular master. In the case of these two, it was obvious they favoured Master Grims, and had attempted to present themselves in his image. He wondered how Grims felt about his acolytes.


    "We don''t look too suspicious, do we?" asked Serteel. ¡°We¡¯re going to do a quick scan without them even realising.¡±


    A Royal College mage¡¯s skill in penetrating defences and ferreting out fugitives was well documented. This level of magic should pose no trouble.


    ¡°Ready when you are,¡± said the agent. There was a suggestion in his tone that he had been ready for quite some time.


    Kamfel looked like he was about to say something to the agent, but shrugged and bent to his work. His movements were certain as he arranged his paraphernalia in the box with confidence. Despite their youth, the two mages seemed to know what they were doing, which was to be expected. They had been taught by the greatest exponents of the arts, and selected by the Archmage for this task.


    Serteel carefully filled a bowl with a clear liquid from a canteen, poured in a few droplets of oily fluid from a tiny vial, then dusted the surface with tiny pinches of powdered substance from pouches on his belt. He squatted next to his colleague, and began to quietly chant.


    The surface of the liquid became cloudy. Abruptly a tiny flame appeared in the middle of the bowl and danced across the liquid. He poured it into the box.


    It vapourised with a thick rush of fumes. A red flame shot into the air for an instant and then winked out.


    The four of them waited.


    ¡°Did it work?¡± asked the agent.


    ¡°No,¡± said Kamfel sullenly. He dusted off his hands on his cloak and began to rearrange the items in the box.


    Delcroix hadn¡¯t seen this equipment before, and had assumed it was some kind of prototype.


    The agent placed a hand on the mage¡¯s shoulder, which was a mistake. ¡°Couldn¡¯t you¡ª¡±


    ¡°Magic isn¡¯t some cheap trick you can perform with a finger snap and a puff of smoke,¡± snapped Kamfel, swiping away an ill-timed wisp of smoke. ¡°We came prepared for their obscuring tactics, but this isn¡¯t raw Arcanum, this is something else.¡±


    Serteel cried out in terror. ¡°No. It¡¯s broken. I can''t stop it! I¡­¡± His frightened voice trailed off and he slumped to the floor.


    Kamfel caught his falling colleague. ¡°This can¡¯t be. They broke through his shield.¡±


    The second mage had been sent to protect the first. It took a powerful exponent of Arcanum to destroy a shield-mage.


    The box at their feet began smoking. Kamfel let Serteel drop and picked up the box. He hurled it to the other side of the warehouse. It flew further than it should have, hitting the warehouse wall with a soft thud.


    Delcroix felt a trickle of wind across his face, noticeable for its warmth, which rapidly intensified to a hot blast. He had barely time to register this change before he was jolted by a ground-shaking impact. The warehouse shuddered and its stone walls buckled.


    With a thunderous crash the roof of collapsed. The building groaned and roared in protest, then exploded in a storm of splintered wood and stone.


    Delcroix frantically darted back as clouds of dust blasted their faces, and then he was behind a wall as six agents appeared in front of him, shielding him from the impact.


    The dust settled and Delcroix looked around. Serteel was the only other person standing. He had regained consciousness and seemed dazed.


    ¡°They probably know we¡¯re here,¡± he said.


    Delcroix got back to his feet. ¡°They may have an inkling.¡±


    ¡°You should have thrown it towards the pagoda,¡± said the agent, his team once more gone, checking the surroundings.


    ¡°Of course not,¡± said Kamfel. ¡°Who knows what would have happened if I¡¯d done that.¡±


    The agent seemed to withdraw, chastened. Also very unusual for someone with his training.


    ¡°Was that their doing?¡± asked Delcroix.


    ¡°No, no,¡± said Kamfel. ¡°They couldn¡¯t have done that. It was a miscalculation, that¡¯s all.¡±


    It sounded very much like the mage had no idea what had happened.


    There was loud metallic scraping sound which pulled their attention toward the pagoda. The top tier, the smallest, starkly outlined against the night sky, sank into the body of the tower. The walls shrieked, and the next layer also sank. It was like a telescope being collapsed, loudly.


    Delcroix stepped back, as did the mages, leaving their accoutrements behind. No one dared to take their eyes off the pagoda as it lowered itself in startling leaps.


    There was no building Delcroix had ever seen that was constructed to collapse in on itself in this fashion, but it could be done, he was sure. The technology existed, certainly on a smaller scale. But for what purpose? And who was doing it? Did you simply pull a pin and let gravity draw the separate sections down one by one?


    A slight pause, and then another tier dropped, the eaves that formed a ring, jutting out from the tower, flipped up and were sucked inside with a rush of air that sounded like rasping breaths. What would happen when the pagoda reached the ground? Would it sink into its foundations and leave no trace?


    Hardly any dust or dirt was thrown up as the pagoda shrank, becoming shorter and shorter.


    ¡°What does this mean?¡± asked Serteel.


    He received no answer. They were waiting for the finale. What would be revealed? The rebels jumping out from behind the disappearing walls? It would be an incredibly elaborate form of surprise attack, somewhat undermined by the extensive preamble.


    ¡°Prepare yourself,¡± said Delcroix. He had no idea what he meant by it, a general recommendation to whoever could hear him above the slide and snap of falling walls, but he felt he should say something.


    His mind felt dull and heavy, hampering any attempt to understand what was happening.


    All that was left now was the lowest tier. It looked like a simple shack. A house with a flat roof, no windows and a closed door. With a tremor and slam like unfastened shutters blown back by a wind, the walls sank from sight.


    There was a square of emptiness on the ground. It was very clearly defined. You could see where pagoda had been, even though the earth on either side of the line was the same, and there was no actual line.


    In the square was a circle. A hole with steep walls, and what looked like steps, at least from where Delcroix stood. It led straight down.


    The Pagoda on the Ransom School grounds, behind the library, also had a lower level, below ground-level. But the staircase was a narrow shaft winding sharply. This shaft was the size of the entire building. The building that had vanished.


    Delcroix realised something had changed.


    There was a figure standing on the far side to Delcroix, at the edge of the square, directly facing him. He was a Gweurian, Delcroix could tell immediately. The people of Gweur were short and stocky, as a rule, with curly hair. Even those who weren¡¯t, had a squat look to their faces and heavy-lidded eyes. It was an insular society, without many immigrants. There wasn¡¯t much to come here for. But this was clearly a local.


    If he was a member of the rebels, he can¡¯t have been their most auspicious member. He was a dishevelled fat man with a dirty white beard, and a vapid expression as he stared across the divide. He lacked the build for a champion come to issue a challenge, or the gravitas for a general come to negotiate surrender.


    If he was their leader, perhaps this was how he had avoided detection all this time. Cast off the trappings of pride and glory and you looked like any other person in a crowd. Perhaps he was so powerful, he could afford to dispense with ego.


    Perhaps he was a sacrifice to stall for time.


    As Delcroix collected his wits, fighting against the numbness in his mind, Secret Service agents materialised out of the air around the pagoda¡¯s inexplicable absence. There were at least a dozen ¡ª more were appearing, making it hard to count. They walked slowly, but steadily, closing in.


    They didn¡¯t try to apprehend the man, who stood unperturbed. They gradually formed a spiralling circle around the invisible square, and then started down the steps. They were climbing down into the hole.


    ¡°What are they doing?¡± Delcroix declared with alarm. ¡°Order them back, agent.¡± He turned to the red-masked man beside him just as the man stepped past, seemingly in a daze.


    Delcroix threw out an arm to catch hold of something, but the agent moved too quickly, and Delcroix¡¯s reflexes had become dulled by his illness. The agent joined the rest of his team as they descended down the steps like water circling a drain.


    ¡°Can you keep him busy?¡± whispered Kamfal. ¡°If he¡¯s the source of this, we need to be careful. We¡¯ll take care of him if you can distract him for a few minutes.¡±


    Delcroix felt he was perpetually coming out of a daze. Every time his mind cleared to reveal his true surroundings, it turned out to be another veil. Then his mind gave a savage twist, and his disciplined-mind regained control. He steeled himself and moved forward. The last of the agents were finding the top of the thread that screwed into the ground.


    As he approached, he could see the walls of the shaft more clearly. They were smooth and dark, but not like mud or stone. They seemed alive, like skin or tissue, trembling.


    It resembled a throat, with the agents willingly sending themselves into some creatures gullet. He heard a rhythmic beat, like a pulse, felt a presence pressing up from below, a ghastly, horrifying presence. The beat reverberated through his bones and blood. And then, as his mind was attempting to make sense of what he was seeing, it was just steps winding down a tunnel.


    He blinked hard and forced his attention onto the man, who hadn¡¯t moved. They were separated by the hole. The steps began closer to him. If Delcroix tried to run around to catch him, the man could quickly follow the agents down the hole. But Delcroix had no desire to lunge at the man.


    ¡°Who are you?¡± he called out.


    ¡°No need to be alarmed, it¡¯s just me.¡± The man¡¯s voice had a disarming chuckle in it. ¡°Why don¡¯t we talk, Minister Delcroix? You are surprised I know you. How could I not? Few are so full of righteous purpose and controlled fury. What would you not do for king and country?¡±


    He was goading him.


    ¡°You follow a demon,¡± said Delcroix, desperately trying to take control of the situation. ¡°Have you any idea what chaos you will unleash into this world.¡±


    ¡°No more than you already have,¡± said the man, calmly, pleasantly. ¡°It was you that brought them here. Brought their magic. That much is irreversible, wouldn¡¯t you agree? You are the candle and she is the flame. You allow her to burn.¡±


    ¡°Where does this tunnel lead?¡±


    ¡°It is not a tunnel, it is a door,¡± said the man disparagingly, as if such an error was the height of madness.


    A door. The door. He had thought they would try to open it in Ranvar, in the school. That¡¯s where the Pagoda was. But it was also here.


    ¡°Do you really think this will make things better?¡±


    ¡°It can¡¯t make things any worse.¡±


    ¡°Fool!¡± shouted Delcroix. ¡°Nothing you have suffered can compare to what they bring. You will be their slave.¡±


    ¡°I am no slave,¡± said the man. ¡°Hunger for power outweighs conscience, why not hunger for justice?¡±


    ¡°Insolent fool! See what is in front of you. Think about what you do. You will be less than a slave.¡±


    ¡°It is true, I will be beholden to them,¡± said the man. ¡°If they wish my skin flayed, so it shall be. If they wish me hung by my toes, it shall be so. But I am no slave.¡±


    ¡°They will have you killed. Slowly. Painfully.¡±


    The man shrugged. ¡°Pain is nothing new to me.¡±


    ¡°This pain will be like nothing you¡¯ve ever known, I promise you.¡±


    ¡°I doubt it.¡±


    ¡°You will plead for death.¡±


    ¡°I will die when I choose. There will always be risk, but the way is open for you. Do not deny you have dreamed long of glory. It is not impossible for you to find it. Is it such a bad thing to sell your soul if the price offered is far more than it is worth?¡±


    Delcroix¡¯s head spun with confusion and disbelief. The door was open. He needed to think. He needed to clear his head. He needed to give the mages time to do¡­ something.


    The man opened his mouth, too wide it seemed, like he was yawning. He began to sing a wordless melody. His voice was discordant, barely audible with all the erratic rhythm of a trapped fly. It was like nothing Delcroix had ever heard. Blue mist slithered from the man¡¯s mouth and nose, blue sparks filled his eyes.


    There was a scream from behind him. Delcroix spun to find Kamfal running towards him, arms outstretched, tongues of fire rising from his head like golden hair. The flames spread, dancing along his sleeves. Blinded by the flames, flesh seared and blackened, he lurched and stumbled past Delcroix. He screamed in agony and fell into the gaping tunnel mouth, throwing himself as if that would somehow ease the unendurable pain.


    Delcroix rushed to the edge, stopping at the line that would have marked the walls of the pagoda like it were a tripwire. The falling torch flared for a moment, and then went out. The screaming stopped.


    The light in the darkness had illuminated the descending agents for a moment. None had paused to witness the fall. They continued their spiral downwards.


    Delcroix turned back. Serteel was on his knees. There wasn¡¯t much left of his face, and burn marks covered the remaining skin. His mouth jutted open, spilling ash from the broken jaw, and then the body, arms fused to the torso, toppled forward and shattered into more ash.


    Delcroix knew he would have to use the last vestiges of his power, no matter the cost. The source was here. Arcanum was being used, and that meant he had a chance. His entire career he had prepared for a threat from within Ranvar, from within the Royal College. It seemed the obvious place. Nobody else could offer a challenge. Because of the mages, Ranvar was inviolate. Which meant only the mages could bring it down.


    There was no suggestion it would actually happen, but if you prepared for the greatest threat, you would be prepared for lesser ones, too. It seemed like sound logic. It had proven to be wrong ¡ª he faced a greater threat, not a lesser one ¡ª but the logic withstood his error. Arcanum was the weapon being used against Ranvar, but not via the Royal College. Arcanum was what he had designed his creations to deal with.


    He summoned the wraiths that had cost him his health, and now probably his life. It was a fair price. Whatever was happening here, it required Arcanum, and he would cut off the supply.


    A mist formed beside him and took shape. A single, solitary shape.


    Delcroix was confused. He shook his head, as though it was his vision that was deceiving him.


    ¡°Where are the rest?¡± he said in a croaked whisper.


    ¡°Engaged,¡± came the equally whispery reply.


    It made no sense. Had he misheard? ¡°Engaged by whom?¡±


    ¡°The Scion.¡±


    His daughter. Without him knowing, without access to Arcanum, she had found a way. ¡°All of them? The reserves too?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± The shape hovered, bobbing up and down.


    ¡°Threat level?¡±


    ¡°Critical.¡±


    ¡°Demon?¡±


    ¡°Mage.¡±


    Suddenly, his constant fatigue made more sense. How long had she been able to do this? How many times had she siphoned his powers without his knowing? Was this the reason he had been unable to stifle his illness¡¯ progress?


    She was in danger. She had found a way to commandeer his troops. He smiled to himself. For a moment he had regretted pushing her so hard, forcing her to rise to the expectations he never verbalised. She had chased after the lure like a maddened salmon, and now it would lead to his death.


    But the smile was not bitter. It was what he had hoped for. If he¡¯d discovered traces of her interference earlier, he would have put a stop to it, and unwittingly saved himself at her expense. He would have never wished for that.


    He understood a little better now. They attacked the school to draw attention away from this place. How long they must have planned for this, predicting the reactions of their enemy. How long had they been studied? Had they targeted him as easily as they targeted the agents? Bringing him here to witness his failure?


    ¡°I want you to go to the Royal College,¡± he said. ¡°Deliver a message to the Archmage. Tell him the door is here, not at the school. Tell him I couldn¡¯t stop it opening. She is coming. He should take the necessary steps.¡±


    The wraith began fading from view even before he¡¯d finished giving the instructions. There was no parting salute, no wishing good luck. It vanished into the wind and was gone.


    He looked across the hole, but the old man was no longer there. Had he gone down, or run away? It didn¡¯t matter.


    Delcroix looked into the black depths. He was curious about what was down there. If it was a door, he wanted to know what was on the other side. It didn¡¯t make a difference now, it was out of his hands. His daughter had assumed control of her birthright and it was up to her to face the challenges ahead of her. He only wondered what was below.


    He walked around the edges of the invisible box, only crossing the line when he reached the steps. They were narrow and curved steeply downward. He slowly began to descend.

 Chapter Forty Two

    ¡°Should we go after her?¡± asked Fanny.


    Davo found that he needed to take a breath and let it out slowly. He didn¡¯t have the air to form words. Even if he had, he wasn¡¯t sure what they would be.


    It wasn¡¯t until the girl had left that Davo realised how much he had been swept along by the air of expected compliance she seemed to carry with her. Her absence allowed clarity to return to his perceptions. He saw now that they were completely out of their depth and should have left matters to those who were better qualified, which was just about anyone. He had to fight to maintain control of himself.


    He had experienced a similar effect a few times before. Occasionally a person of great importance would come to one of his father¡¯s stores, and the atmosphere would change noticeably even before they walked through the doors. The air would crackle as though a great storm were about to arrive, and the customers, staff and even passers-by, would tense and somehow know to look in the same direction.


    Some people just had an unquestionable authority when it came to making decisions, and pulled everyone close enough into their wake. They didn¡¯t have to be generals or princes, although that was often the case. They could be women who brooked no delays, or girls who were so spoilt as to have become an irresistible force of nature.


    And the rest of the world could do nothing but surrender to them, and hope not to be dragged too far by the undertow.


    It wasn¡¯t magic in the Arcanum sense, but it was still a form of supernatural power. The young Miss Delcroix certainly belonged to that group, but whether it was born of militant charisma or mere brattiness, he did not know.


    ¡°She said to wait, didn¡¯t she?¡± he said once he¡¯d caught his breath.


    ¡°I know,¡± said Fanny. ¡°But what if she doesn¡¯t come back?¡±


    ¡°Then she probably doesn¡¯t need our help.¡±


    ¡°What if she doesn¡¯t come back because she¡¯s in trouble?¡±


    ¡°Even more reason for us to stay here,¡± said Davo. ¡°What can we do against a demon?¡±


    Both boys were quiet as they absorbed the unreal nature of their situation. It was a hard reality to accept. They crouched in the shadow of the steps leading up to the library doors. Closed doors with statues on either side that looked like they were trying to lean back into the darkness so as not to be noticed.


    Davo felt a wave of disgust. He was annoyed with himself. He wasn¡¯t crouching, he was cowering. It wasn¡¯t particularly hard to fathom why, but it was still an unpleasant realisation. He was scared, and even though his fear served no purpose ¡ª there was no running away from this ¡ª he continued to be scared. Meanwhile, Fanny bumbled along as though nothing out of the ordinary was happening. He had always thought of himself as someone who would make a stand when it was necessary, whatever the cost. Everyone probably expected it of themselves. Everyone was probably wrong, just as he was. Nearly everyone.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think we can just wait here,¡± said Fanny. He was saying the correct things under the circumstances, but his voice was even more thin and uncertain than normal. He was trying at least.


    ¡°What if we go stumbling in there, and we get her killed?¡± said Davo. The important thing was not to panic. Make choices based on common sense and reasonable odds.


    ¡°What if we don¡¯t,¡± retorted Fanny, ¡°and that gets her killed? And Nic.¡±


    If there was a scenario he could picture where his and Fanny¡¯s arrival on the scene would theoretically be advantageous, Davo might have felt a lot better about charging into the fray. As it was, they had been commandeered as pack animals, and left behind until whistled for.


    ¡°Do you really think there are demons here?¡± asked Fanny quietly. It was obvious what answer he was hoping for.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Davo replied equally quietly.


    ¡°What do you think they look like? I mean underneath.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know that either. I¡¯m not particularly keen on finding out.¡±


    The little that was known (or was allowed to be known) about demons suggested they could change their appearance to anything they wished. Nic¡¯s encounters seemed to confirm that. But their true form? The fairy tales usually had them as monsters with bat wings and horns and tusks, which seemed excessive, but those were fanciful guesses. Probably.


    The sky was pitch black, and the air carried no sounds. Davo strained to hear perhaps a cry for help or a scuffle, not knowing what he would do if he did.


    ¡°We have to get closer,¡± said Fanny. He had a box in his hand, and wires from it extending to his ears.


    ¡°Can you hear anything?¡±


    ¡°No, nothing. We should at least go round the side.¡±


    Davo wanted to agree, but he couldn¡¯t. He didn¡¯t want to be close enough to be summoned. If she called for them, screamed for help, he knew he would have to respond. At least back here, he might not be aware of the call.


    It was utter cowardice.


    ¡°We can¡¯t stay here,¡± said Fanny. ¡°If we found out later we could have saved them, but we were too scared¡­¡±


    ¡°If not for glory, then for guilt? I don¡¯t disagree, but we are sorely unprepared for this. Even Nic would struggle to know what to do in our position.¡±


    ¡°I suppose. We could¡­¡± Fanny looked up, towards the library roof where Dizzy had scuttled up and vanished.


    ¡°How? We can¡¯t climb up there.¡± Davo used the plural. We. He was referring to himself, though. The pairing made it sound less contemptible.


    ¡°No, I mean through the library. If we got on the top floor, we¡¯d have a better view of what was going on.¡±


    Inside. A window. Watching. Would that be better?


    ¡°How do you propose to get in? Do you have a key?¡±


    Fanny shrugged. ¡°I could try something.¡±


    Of all their options, breaking into the library seemed an act of the mildest possible consequences. At least it would give them something to do.


    ¡°Okay, go on then.¡±


    They crept around and tiptoed up the broad stone steps, making no eye contact with the statues, as though a tacit agreement had been made not to betray each other¡¯s presence.


    Fanny pulled a number of small items out of his pockets and switched them from hand to hand, like he was checking their weights. Davo regarded him with bemusement, but didn¡¯t ask him what he was doing.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to convince the door to open,¡± said Fanny, as though he could sense the question.


    ¡°Good luck,¡± said Davo.


    Fanny nodded. He pushed something against the door and winced, like he was expecting it to hurt.


    ¡°Damn it.¡±


    ¡°What happened?¡± Davo asked, stepping back. ¡°What have you done?¡±


    ¡°Nothing, apparently.¡± Fanny inspected the door.


    ¡°What was it?¡±


    ¡°I thought if I pushed the Arcanum field in the door to the right, the door would think it was over there, instead of over here.¡±


    On a very basic level, that was a reasonable explanation of how Arcanum worked. Theoretically. On a more practical level, there was no way to know if that was how you got a door to open. The Royal College guarded its secrets well.


    ¡°Maybe try again?¡± suggested Davo.


    Fanny sighed, then squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his hand against the door. Davo felt a disconcerting sensation run down his back as Fanny¡¯s hand sank in slightly. A trick of the light?


    A faint wisp of smoke drifted between his short stubby fingers. Fanny¡¯s hand leapt away from the door. His eyes, now wide open, stared at the thin trails of smoke coming off his palm. ¡°Did it... work?¡±


    ¡°I think... maybe,¡± Davo said. He closed one eye. ¡°How many doors do you see?¡±


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t look any different.¡± Fanny copied him and closed one eye. ¡°Oh. Two. Red and blue.¡±


    There wasn¡¯t a solid door anymore, but they weren¡¯t gone, either. Not completely. There were two doorways, each a slightly different hue. Not brightly coloured, just a tinge of red on one, blue on the other.


    ¡°Which one?¡± asked Davo.


    ¡°Red,¡± Fanny said immediately.


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Because...¡± His voice trailed off. ¡°Because it is.¡± He stepped forward before Davo could react, and disappeared through the red doorway.


    Davo was pulled along, almost against his will. It was probably more to do with not wanting to be left on his own, but it was still a dumb thing to do. He was so worried about some unverified demonic force, but he had far more to fear from Fanny¡¯s reckless use of unsupervised Arcanum. He¡¯d probably be found cut in two, half of him inside the library, half outside.


    He stumbled as he bumped into Fanny¡¯s back. They were in the library.


    ¡°What?¡± said Davo, breathless again.


    ¡°I did it. I¡­ magic.¡±


    ¡°Yes, congratulations. If we live, I¡¯ll buy you a cake.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± said Fanny, immediately snapping out of his daze.


    It wasn¡¯t really magic if a device was used ¡ª many occupations other than mage had access to such contraptions ¡ª but he had got them inside. It was an impressive accomplishment for a boy with a bunch of wires.


    It was dark, but some light was creeping in through the tall windows. They peered around until they became aware of their surroundings, and then made their way to the staircase.


    They were familiar with the layout, and quickly made their way to the next floor. They scurried to the window and looked across to where the Pagoda stood, but it was hard to make out anything with trees obscuring their view.


    ¡°Higher,¡± said Davo.


    They missed out the next floor and went all the way to the top. The windows looked over the tops of the trees, and down to the base of the Pagoda. There was no sign of Dizzy.


    ¡°Maybe we should go up,¡± said Fanny.


    ¡°What are you talking about? We¡¯re on the top fl¡ª¡± He stopped and turned to follow Fanny¡¯s gaze past his shoulder. ¡°Ladder.¡± The word fell out of his mouth.


    ¡°The secret room. We might be able to get on the roof.¡±


    ¡°Why is it open like that?¡± said Davo. ¡°Doesn¡¯t that mean someone¡¯s here?¡±


    ¡°Dizzy?¡± said Fanny hopefully.


    They approached the ladder and looked up. There was no sound, but there was a very soft glow. Fanny reached out his hand, but Davo moved in front of him. He was tiring of being one step behind. And of Fanny, of all people!


    He climbed quickly and didn¡¯t even stop to check if there was anyone waiting up there. Presenting his neck would only give them the perfect opportunity to chop his head off.Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.


    The mirrored walls reflected a dim light, but it wasn¡¯t clear where it was coming from. All he saw was his own movement reflected, and then Fanny, as he emerged from behind him. Shapes that were too warped to make out clearly.


    They stood at the top of the ladder, listening.


    ¡°Hello?¡± said Fanny.


    ¡°Quiet!¡± Davo whispered hoarsely. ¡°What are you doing?¡±


    ¡°Just being polite.¡±


    ¡°Why? You¡¯re worried we¡¯ll be murdered for poor manners?¡±


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you both come over here,¡± said a soft gentle voice. ¡°Come see the beautiful sky before dragons blot out the stars. You don¡¯t want to miss this.¡±


    The sky could not be seen through the mirrored walls, and even if it could, there would be no stars visible. They had already been blotted out, and if a dragon was responsible, it was a very big one.


    Davo relaxed. He recognised the Librarian, even from behind. No one else had a stance so perfectly stiff. He moved forward. He wanted to see, he found, although he had no idea what he was being asked to witness. The Librarian¡¯s invitation was impossible to refuse.


    She was standing with her back to them, her slender form reflected into tight lines of nothing in the dome¡¯s walls. Then she shifted slightly, and her face appeared on every surface until she shifted back. The mirrors were angled in such a way that they didn¡¯t reflect things directly; nothing was where you¡¯d expect it.


    ¡°She¡¯s about to enter,¡± said the Librarian.


    Both boys, one on either side of her, leaned forward, trying to see through the glass. The librarian swiped a hand in a large arc, from in front of Fanny¡¯s face, across to Davo¡¯s. The mirror shimmered and cleared, drawing gasps from the boys.


    ¡°Are you a mage?¡± asked Fanny in an awed whisper.


    ¡°No,¡± said the Librarian, smiling. She had a lot of small teeth, Davo noticed.


    The library roof stretched out ahead of them, and then it stopped and the top part of the Pagoda was visible as a dark imprint. The sky was black. No stars.


    ¡°What are we looking at?¡± asked Davo, doing his best to sound calm. He didn¡¯t know what was happening, but his instincts told him not to demand answers. He was being led gently, but a leash can always be tightened.


    ¡°Look up,¡± said the Librarian.


    They did as instructed. The top of the dome was still mirrored, and along the curved part a figure moved, unnaturally clear and well lit, and upside down. Dizzy approached the Pagoda door, skulking in a manner that somehow seemed elegant.


    ¡°She made it,¡± said Fanny.


    ¡°Not yet,¡± said the Librarian. ¡°She has a long way to go, but her chances are good. Or perhaps decent. It is a moment that should be shared by her friends.¡±


    Davo wasn¡¯t sure they qualified as her friends, but he was willing to bear witness, even if it was giving him a crick in his neck. The Librarian was content to watch from a distance, so he felt it was acceptable to do the same.


    ¡°What is she going to do?¡± he asked.


    ¡°She¡¯s going to choose her path. She will have to fight if she wants to be the great leader she dreams of.¡±


    ¡°Fight a demon?¡± asked Fanny.


    ¡°No. Not yet. First she has to win the right. First she has to defeat her rival.¡±


    As they watched, Dizzy cautiously pushed the Pagoda door open with a stick.


    ¡°Rival?¡± asked Davo. ¡°Who¡¯s her¡­ You mean Nic? She has to fight Nic?¡±


    ¡°She doesn¡¯t have to fight him, but she does have to defeat him.¡±


    ¡°Um,¡± said Fanny. ¡°Can¡¯t they sort of team up and work together?¡±


    ¡°Theoretically, yes. In practice, I¡¯ve never seen it happen.¡±


    ¡°That doesn¡¯t mean it couldn¡¯t happen,¡± said Davo.


    Dizzy entered the Pagoda, and the Librarian stepped away so that both boys were now in front of her. ¡°Do you know the story of the Princess and the Farm Boy? You must have heard it in one form or another.¡±


    ¡°The one where the boy is reluctant and the girl is feisty?¡± asked Davo.


    ¡°That is one version.¡±


    ¡°Where the boy turns out to be a legendary swordsman,¡± said Fanny.


    ¡°Sometimes,¡± said the Librarian.


    ¡°I like that story,¡± said Fanny. ¡°It makes you feel like anyone can become a hero. My favourite part¡¯s where everyone makes fun of him and then they realise he¡¯s better than them at everything, and then they hate themselves.¡± Fanny chuckled to himself. ¡°That must be great. I wish that part were true the most.¡±


    ¡°Nothing about the story is untrue,¡± said the Librarian, ¡°but everything it makes you feel is false. That is why stories are so powerful. And easy to abuse.¡±


    ¡°How can it all be true if every version is different?¡± asked Davo.


    ¡°Because the details aren¡¯t relevant,¡± said the Librarian, ¡°He wasn¡¯t a farm boy. His father ran a stable in the shadow of the city walls. His mother made cheap jewellery she sold at market. They called him farm boy because his boots were always muddy and the scent of horse manure followed him. But he was still the Farm Boy of the story.¡±


    ¡°You sound like you were there,¡± said Davo.


    ¡°I was,¡± said the Librarian, and Davo¡¯s heart stopped beating. ¡°In a manner of speaking.¡± She smiled. So many teeth.


    ¡°So he was a real person?¡± asked Fanny. ¡°The Chosen One?¡±


    ¡°He wasn¡¯t chosen. He was the only one willing to chase after the princess. She was the fifth daughter of seven, and by far the ugliest. They barely knew she was gone. They would have arranged a marriage for her, of course, found her a prince or a count or a duke, but no one was going to fight demons to save her. Apart from him. What they didn¡¯t realise was that she planned to fight the demons herself. She didn¡¯t wish to be saved. He tried anyway. He was an incredible dolt.¡± She sighed. ¡°I liked him.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not entirely sure why you¡¯re telling us this,¡± said Davo.


    ¡°Heroes,¡± said the Librarian. ¡°They tend to come one at a time, if at all. But if two come together, they can¡¯t help but clash. Only one can claim the title of champion.¡±


    ¡°The princess and the farm boy didn¡¯t fall in love and defeat the demon?¡± asked Fanny.


    ¡°They did. They fought together, and it drew them closer. And they learned to rely on each other, and drew closer still. They argued incessantly, and became absorbed in one another. But he was wary of bringing her shame, of embarrassing her, of not being good enough. She grew tired of his chivalrous nature and took matters into her own hands, and then he promised when the king asked him what reward he wished for, he would ask for her hand. He was far below her rank, but a champion who saved the world can get special dispensations for that sort of thing.¡±


    ¡°Wait,¡± said Fanny. ¡°Does that mean they had sex?¡±


    ¡°Of course it does,¡± said Davo.


    ¡°You don¡¯t know that. ¡®Took matters into her own hands¡¯ could mean anything.¡±


    ¡°I suppose you¡¯re right.¡± Davo turned to the librarian. ¡°Did they have sex? There¡¯s no need to be coy, we know what sex is.¡±


    ¡°Yes, I¡¯ve read about it in a book,¡± said Fanny. ¡°With pictures.¡±


    ¡°Have you?¡± said Davo. ¡°What book was that?¡±


    ¡°My biology textbook.¡±


    ¡°Oh. Well, so have I. Hardly a guide to lovemaking.¡±


    ¡°I never said it was. Is there really a guide? Who wrote it?¡±


    ¡°They defeated the demon, or thought they had, I won¡¯t bore you with the details, and they set off to return home with the good news. But the boy had been poisoned. A terrible, consuming poison that ate away at his flesh.¡±


    ¡°Yeuchh,¡± said Fanny. ¡°That isn¡¯t how the story goes.¡±


    ¡°By the time they returned, his entire body was ravaged and he kept his face hidden behind a silk mask. When the king asked what he wished as his reward, he asked for a small piece of land overlooking the ocean, where he could watch the ships go in and out of the harbour.¡±


    ¡°I bet the princess was mightily relieved,¡± said Davo.


    ¡°The princess was furious. She had given him her chastity and her purity and in return he had betrayed her.¡±


    ¡°Seems a bit harsh,¡± said Fanny. ¡°Last thing you need when half your face is falling off.¡±


    ¡°She was also a great warrior, and had acquired great power herself. She vowed to find a cure.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I see,¡± said Davo. ¡°The old twist ending.¡±


    ¡°She set off to seek the wisest men and the greatest sorcerers in order to restore him to the boy she fell in love with. Three years into her search, word reached her that he had died.¡±


    ¡°What kind of ending is that?¡± cried Fanny.


    ¡°The kind of ending you get when you take three years finding a cure,¡± said Davo. ¡°What do you expect with terrible service like that? That¡¯s why we guarantee same-day delivery.¡±


    ¡°She refused to give up.¡±


    ¡°Wait, what does that mean?¡± said Fanny. ¡°I thought he died?¡±


    ¡°Death would not deprive her. She knew of nefarious arts that resurrected the dead. She would drag him back to the world of the living, whole and himself once more.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± said Fanny. ¡°She was a bit clingy, wasn¡¯t she?¡±


    ¡°I take it back,¡± said Davo. ¡°She wasn¡¯t the heartless debutante I had assumed. She was some kind of crazy woman.¡±


    ¡°But such magic did not exist,¡± said the Librarian. ¡°No matter how hard she looked, no matter what depths she was willing to sink to, a corpse no longer contains the man. It would be a hollow victory to bring him back. A rotten flesh puppet.¡±


    ¡°So then she gave up,¡± said Fanny. ¡°I hope.¡±


    ¡°She found a mystic. Not one who could raise the dead, but who could speak to them. He summoned the spirit of her dead farm boy, and they were reunited, almost. He could not see or hear her. It was like she was viewing him through a telescope. He looked young and beautiful again. He looked happy. She never believed there was somewhere you went to after death, but now she believed. She would reunite with him there, the place where the spirits of the good and the true went. Only, she was neither. Her search had taken her down some dark roads. She had done some terrible things to find the secret to raising the dead. Made some awful sacrifices. How could she atone so that her soul would be saved, and allowed into that glorious place her lover had gone? That¡¯s when the demon she thought she had slain returned to offer her the thing she wanted most. A world where she could relive her happiest moments, again and again.¡±


    ¡°She went mad, didn¡¯t she?¡± said Davo.


    ¡°That doesn¡¯t sound like they lived happily ever after,¡± said Fanny.


    ¡°No,¡± agreed the Librarian.


    ¡°But that¡¯s the one fact all the versions agree on. Although, I suppose no one can live happily ever after. Nobody can be happy all the time. Not unless, you know, they¡¯re a bit simple.¡±


    ¡°Too true,¡± said Davo. ¡°You seem quite cheerful most of the time, I¡¯ve noticed.¡±


    ¡°Well, I try to keep my spirits up,¡± said Fanny. ¡°No point being a down in the mouth worry-wart, is there?¡±


    The Librarian turned back to face the glass wall. ¡°The problem with those who want to lead is that they get in each other¡¯s way. Close friends make good hostages and the best betrayals. Under the best circumstances, a team will offer support and sacrifice. Under every other circumstance, it rarely goes well.¡±


    ¡°Is that really what happened?¡± asked Fanny.


    ¡°Yes. Although there are parts I did not tell you.¡±


    ¡°The truth with parts left out¡­¡± said Davo. ¡°Isn¡¯t that called a lie?¡±


    ¡°No. It¡¯s called a story. And in a story, many truths can co-exist.¡±


    ¡°Were you the princess?¡± asked Fanny. It was what Davo had been wondering, but he wasn¡¯t sure he wanted to know the answer.


    ¡°No. I told you, she was very ugly. Do you think I¡¯m ugly?¡±


    Davo shot Fanny a look to make sure he didn¡¯t say something stupid.


    ¡°No. I think you¡¯re beautiful, for your age.¡±


    Davo cringed, but it could have been worse.


    ¡°Thank you.¡±


    ¡°Only, you said you were there, and if you weren¡¯t the princess¡­ were you the farm boy.¡±


    Davo was too far away to be able to kick Fanny. He would have to remember to position himself better in the future.


    ¡°She wasn¡¯t the farm boy,¡± snapped Davo, and then realised he may have made an even bigger faux pas. ¡°Were you?¡±


    ¡°No. I was not the farm boy.¡±


    That left few options, none of them good.


    ¡°Are you Winnum Roke?¡± asked Davo. It seemed like one of the less bad options.


    ¡°No. Winnum Roke is dead.¡±


    ¡°How do you know?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Because I killed her.¡±


    He had to admit it was a solid answer. He glanced over at Fanny. His face was contorted. He looked afraid. About time. Davo felt strangely calm, though.


    ¡°Now let me ask you a question. Do you wish to help your friends? They need someone to stop them making a terrible mistake.¡±


    She was looking at him, not Fanny. He knew the expected answer, but hadn¡¯t she just told them heroes worked best alone? What was he meant to do, other than act as hostage or traitor?


    But he did want to be of help. He wanted to be more than the boy on the side, clapping politely for the great and the grand.


    And then Davo was running. He was outside the library heading for the Pagoda. He couldn¡¯t remember how he got here, but it didn¡¯t matter. He had to help his friends.


    He looked to either side, and then behind him. There was no sign of Fanny. He might already be inside. He ran faster. He didn¡¯t feel scared anymore. He knew what he had to do. He knew he was destined to be the one who saved everyone. He was the only one who could.


    Finally he didn¡¯t feel like he was out of his depth, he felt like he was the hero in a story. It was a wonderful release. He ran into the Pagoda.


    ***


    Now that he was on his own, Fanny was terribly scared. He couldn¡¯t move. He was staring straight ahead, at the top of the Pagoda, and not even his neck could turn. ¡°What did you do to Davo?¡±


    ¡°I sent him on a hero¡¯s quest,¡± said the Librarian. There was noise going on behind him. Clicking and grinding.


    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you send me?¡± It was probably a stupid question. If Davo had still been here, he would have closed his eyes and slowly shaken his head. But he wasn¡¯t here.


    ¡°Men struggle with madness when they know too much,¡± said the Librarian.


    ¡°And women?¡± asked Fanny.


    ¡°Some women, too.¡±


    Fanny could steady his nerves when he had someone he didn¡¯t want to disappoint. It was much harder to do alone.


    ¡°You are more resilient than I¡¯d thought,¡± she said. It almost sounded like a compliment.


    ¡°I have sisters,¡± said Fanny. ¡°You have to learn to resist all forms of psychic attack.¡±


    There was something that sounded like a laugh. He couldn¡¯t see.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I have other plans for you,¡± she said. ¡°Your friend might not be up to the task.¡±


    Fanny felt the urge to defend Davo, but it would probably be better if he failed whatever task he¡¯d been sent on.


    ¡°You were the demon, weren¡¯t you? The one they thought they killed.¡±


    ¡°Mmm. I wanted to see what they would do if they thought they had won. The exhilaration of victory. It was much messier than the stories would have you believe, but also more entertaining.¡± She stepped forward so he could see her out of the corner of his eye.


    ¡°Your souls are so different from ours,¡± the Librarian continued. ¡°A person is constantly changing. They have the capacity to grow, learn, wither, die. Their soul does the same. It is fascinating to watch. Every morning... you are someone new. Even the most insignificant of you have the potential to be something better. Or worse. We are what we are. You are never the same person twice.


    ¡°But you are fragile things. You wear down and wear out. It is both your strength and your weakness. You have so little time to achieve your ambitions, it makes you unstoppable. Yet, your desire to shed your skin makes it easy to tempt you into new clothes.¡±


    The librarian leaned forward, clasping her hands behind her back. She looked like she was on the prow of a ship.


    ¡°By all rights it should be the girl who emerges, but we shall see. Nic Tutt has a way of surprising me.¡±


    She stared into the inky night sky, and Fanny tried his hardest to extend his fingers deep into his pockets. There was bound to be something he could use to free himself, to save the others. But everything was out of reach.

 Chapter Forty Three

    It was dark in the Pagoda. Dizzy took out a pair of tinted spectacles and put them on. Now it was even darker.


    There were lanterns outside, ringing the Pagoda in a circle of prohibitory light, but Dizzy had no desire to announce her arrival.


    From a pouch on her belt she took out a small bar of metal. It was randium, a soft, light metal that was quite rare and too brittle to be very useful in construction. Its only practical property was that it emitted a dull glow, barely perceptible to the naked eye. With the right glasses, though, you could see in the dark.


    She quietly pushed into the interior where, pausing at the edge of a faintly purple circle on the ground, she stared at what had once been a staircase. Now it was filled with rubble, also faintly glowing purple around the central shaft.


    If there was anyone down there, they wouldn¡¯t be aware of her presence. They wouldn¡¯t be aware of very much at all. Her stealthiness served little purpose, which was just as well since a moment later a bright light came charging through the door raised above and ahead of a sweaty, apprehensive-looking boy.


    ¡°What are you doing here?¡± she said in a brusque tone she immediately regretted. Not because she was being rude, which wasn¡¯t something that would ever bother her, but because she knew it would sour the proceeding exchange and make things more difficult. Complicating matters when it could be avoided was always regrettable.


    ¡°I came to help,¡± said Davo. ¡°You¡¯re welcome by the way. Nice glasses. Can you see anything in those?¡±


    She took off the spectacles and put them away. ¡°I told you I¡¯d summ¡ª¡± She caught herself but she could sense the hostility already building. ¡°I said I¡¯d signal you when I needed help. You could have compromised me if there¡¯d been anyone here.¡±


    Davo lifted the lantern higher and swung it around. ¡°There doesn¡¯t appear to be anyone else in the vicinity.¡±


    It was pointless to argue. He knew what she meant, and she knew that forcing him to admit it would achieve nothing.


    ¡°The stairwell¡¯s blocked. Looks like it collapsed. There¡¯s little chance of anyone getting in or out through here.¡±


    ¡°Aren¡¯t there any other entrances?¡± said Davo. ¡°I imagine they added emergency exits when they built the damn thing. Especially if they planned to get up to no good.¡±


    Dizzy tightened her mouth just to make sure no needlessly aggressive words slipped out. She could feel them massing on the border, ready for the charge. He was nervous, but also something else. She couldn¡¯t quite place it, but there was a difference in the way he held himself. His whole body was different, somehow. Unaccustomed to being in these kinds of situations, most likely.


    ¡°Where¡¯s the other one?¡± she said.


    ¡°If you mean Fanny, he¡¯s waiting to be summoned. By your signal. He¡¯s a good boy, you should tell him that.¡±


    ¡°And the equipment?¡±


    ¡°Yes. And the equipment.¡±


    It wasn¡¯t what she had meant. When she asked a question about equipment, she expected a full report on location, condition and distribution. She had trained her people to answer her directives quickly and efficiently. But he wasn¡¯t her people and she had to learn to handle him. Everything was an opportunity to learn.


    ¡°Good. We¡¯re going to need it if we intend to get to Nic. He¡¯s down there, somewhere.¡± She tapped the edge of the stairwell with her boot. It was a shallow pit with not even the first step showing.


    ¡°Here,¡± said Davo. He pushed a stick towards her.


    She recognised it immediately. It was from her equipment bag, a pick, even though it looked more like a walking stick made from ebony. It was the exact item she needed. How had he known to bring it? And where had he been hiding it? It hadn¡¯t been in his hands a second ago.


    ¡°Thank you.¡± She reached out and took it from him. ¡°This will get us started. You should go get Fanny.¡±


    ¡°In a minute.¡±


    She bridled at having her instructions deflected, but she didn¡¯t say anything. It was enough that she had the mining tool. She carefully stepped into the ring of rubble that had recently been a stairwell, testing the large stones haphazardly sitting on each other before allowing her weight to rest on them.


    Once she reached the shaft, she began working the end of the pick into a crack between stones, rotating and wiggling the tapered end into the gap. All the while she could feel him watching her. Waiting for a mistake so he could point it out? He wouldn¡¯t be the first. Most of his predecessors were still waiting.


    ¡°Sky still dark outside?¡± she said. She could work the debris and the boy at the same time. Both would eventually yield to her.


    ¡°Impenetrable,¡± said Davo. ¡°What will you do if a demon appears?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll think of something,¡± she said without looking up.


    ¡°Nic would have a plan,¡± said Davo. ¡°He generally has one for all occasions.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡± She grunted as the tip finally went in. ¡°We can ask him about it after I save him. Again. He¡¯s an excellent strategist. He should do well in a logistics role. I¡¯m sure he¡¯ll find gainful employment. People always need a good clerk.¡±


    The pick seemed to have become firmly lodged in place. Which was what she wanted. It began leaning and she grabbed it again.


    ¡°I wonder if you two would work well together,¡± said Davo. ¡°I mean, as a team. You are both quite similar. Obviously not in temperament. Or personality. Or manners. But otherwise. Perhaps you¡¯d complement one another as partners. You both seem to know a lot, but we¡¯re heavily outmatched, I¡¯d say. If you could pool your resources, cover for each other¡¯s weaknesses....¡±


    Dizzy stopped and straightened her back. ¡°Do you know what makes a good leader? No, not a good one, a great one, do you know? It isn¡¯t what most people think. The ones in history books who won battles and achieved amazing, unlikely feats, they were mostly lucky. Hot-headed fools who gambled recklessly and won. Many more gambled and lost, but you don¡¯t hear about them. Or they had an unassailable advantage over the competition, as is the Ranvar way. What separates a true leader from just someone handed the job is knowing what to do.¡±


    She looked up, letting go of the pick which remained stuck where she¡¯d placed it. She brushed off her hands.


    ¡°You can have all the information in the words at your fingertips, but that won¡¯t tell you when to use it or how. It¡¯s like cooking from a recipe book won¡¯t guarantee results. Different cooks will produce different cakes. And the best one won¡¯t follow the recipe to the letter. Execution is everything. Not just the right choice, but the timing. To be able to look at a situation and to know which is your best option. Not because there is a best option waiting to be chosen, but because you understand what your opponent is going to do. When you understand their objective, you don¡¯t need to wait for them. You can react before they have the chance to act.¡±


    ¡°That sounds like Nic.¡±


    ¡°No, it doesn¡¯t. I¡¯ve known him a lot longer than you. He¡¯s never been that way. He was always indecisive and cautious. I may have missed a few years in between, but he hasn¡¯t changed that much.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t you think he might just have been like that around you?¡±


    Dizzy made her way out of the shallow pit, taking long, high strides so as to not disturb the unsettled rocks. ¡°Because I make him nervous? I don¡¯t think so. He¡¯s perfectly capable of controlling his emotions.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think you make him nervous,¡± said Davo. ¡°I think he doesn¡¯t want to get in your way.¡±


    ¡°Are you saying he¡¯s stepping aside for me? So I can pass?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve seen him do it. I was there when he asked the Head to not reveal he had come first in the mocks and to let you take the top spot.¡±


    She looked up sharply, and then quickly muted her surprise. There was an instinctive acceptance from her that he had spoken the truth, that Nic had come first but hidden it. The question wasn¡¯t whether or not it was true, the question was why was this boy telling her?


    To get a rise out of her? This didn¡¯t seem a very appropriate time or place for that kind of baiting. It had been a while since anyone had tested her.


    ¡°Even if that¡¯s true, I doubt it has anything to do with his relationship to me. I imagine he didn¡¯t wish to be the focus of attention going forward, and coming first would attract nothing but. It was a smart move for someone who prefers to work without pressure.¡±


    She glanced up long enough to see the surprise register in the boy¡¯s face. Direct hit, she would say.


    ¡°You really are just like him. The way you take things apart.¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± she said. ¡°Who do you think he learned it from?¡±


    She turned her gaze towards the pick. Any second now¡­ any second¡­


    The stick began vibrating. It sank a little deeper and began to hum.


    ¡°Is it doing what it¡¯s supposed to do?¡± asked Davo, his voice trembling in sympathetic resonance to the vibrations in the air.


    ¡°Yes. It¡¯s doing exactly what it¡¯s supposed to do.¡± The rocks around the base of the pick turned into gravel.


    ¡°Do you ever think how nice it would be to not be the leader? To follow orders and leave the decisions to others? You could do what you do best so much better if you didn¡¯t have to worry about everyone else.¡±


    Dizzy froze for a second. He hadn¡¯t sounded like himself just then. He¡¯d sounded remarkably calm and insightful, like a wise old man. Only his words weren¡¯t wise, they were infuriating. Do one thing well? Like a trained animal drilled over and over until their expertise was automatic¡­ mindless?


    No, she hadn¡¯t ever thought that. Why would she? Why do one thing well when you could do everything well? You just needed the people around you to do what they were told. That was the difficult part ¡ª relying on others.


    ***


    Nic felt like he was bathed in light. His eyes were closed, but the darkness had an illuminated quality to it. And a warmth.


    It was similar to when you sat in front of a fire with your eyes shut, that redness across the inside of your eyelids. Only this went much deeper than his eyelids. This was all around and inside him, too. He could have been in an oven, cooking. Not in a bad way. Not in a way that suggested burning and dying. This was more like dough rising.


    ¡°How do I leave?¡± he asked the demon.


    You must pass through the door.


    The demon was quiet in his mind, a spent force that offered very little resistance. He had taken the immense energy it had tried to force into him, and instead of fighting it to the point of becoming unstable, he had kept consuming it until his entire body was not much more than a bottle about to blow its lid. But he had kept it all in.


    ¡°I thought I was the door.¡±


    You are the door. Your body is the doorway. You are more than your body.


    He wasn¡¯t sure what that meant. He only knew the demon had agreed to help him escape, and he meant to keep it to its word. Precisely. If there was one thing he had learned about demons, it was that they liked to be true to their contracts.


    ¡°Can I close the door?¡±


    There was a pause before the demon spoke. You would need a sacrifice.


    ¡°Aren¡¯t you the sacrifice?¡±


    The demon had tried to offer itself as the source of his transformation. It hadn¡¯t quite worked, not in the way it had been meant to. At least, he didn¡¯t think it had. The problem with dealing with demons was that their true intentions weren¡¯t revealed through their words. They were very careful to speak accurately, but the truth could be very misleading.


    I was the sacrifice to open the doorway. I no longer have the power to reverse the process.


    ¡°But it is possible?¡±


    It is much easier to cut down a tree than to return it to its place in the forest, but it is possible.


    ¡°The other demon, could I use its power?¡±


    There was another pause. He knew the demon wasn¡¯t alone in this world. Perhaps there were hundreds of them, hiding in plain sight. But that seemed unlikely. If there were that many, they would have been able to take over long before now.


    Probably there weren¡¯t very many. Or possibly there were, and there was something preventing them from being more bold. In which case, it would be useful to know what that was.


    It is harder than you imagine to draw power away from its owner.


    He took that to mean no, the other demon would not be amenable to assisting. Not very surprising. But the idea of leaving the doorway to the other place open, even if it allowed him to escape from his tomb, was not appealing.


    ¡°I took power from you.¡±


    I gave it to you.


    ¡°Yes.¡± The demon had done more than give. It had forced. But if it took a demon to instigate the transfer, it raised a very interesting question.This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    ¡°The first mages, how did they convince you to share your powers?¡±


    It was something that wasn¡¯t mentioned in any book, at least none that he had read. Not even the ones kept hidden in the special rooms of libraries. Which suggested it was a secret the Royal College guarded very carefully.


    Arcanum, said the demon.


    That didn¡¯t explain anything. ¡°We found a mineral that you were weak to?¡±


    There was something like a laugh in the back of his mind, amused but far more bitter than joyful.


    You think Arcanum is a rock that is buried in the ground to be found? It is ours. It is our blood.


    ¡°But we dig it out of the ground, don¡¯t we?¡±


    Much blood was spilled during the time we warred, your people and mine. Far more than you can possibly imagine.


    ¡°We¡¯re picking up your dried blood? And the deposits we find inside mountains?¡±


    Mountains? No, they are not mountains. They are corpses.


    It made a kind of morbid sense, and he didn¡¯t doubt the demon was telling him the truth, but the truth could be misleading.


    Tell me the secret of the Green Demon¡¯s failure. I wish to know before the last of me expires.


    ¡°First you have to show me the way out of here. That¡¯s what we agreed.¡±


    I have already told you. You did not ask for all the ways. I have given you one. It is up to you to take it. Or not.


    ¡°There are other ways, though, aren¡¯t there?¡±


    Harder ways. You have to change what you are if you wish to change what you can do. This much you already know.


    ¡°The first mages, they merged with demons somehow? The demons must have been willing.¡±


    They committed a blasphemy. They gave their power away.


    ¡°So did you. You gave me your power.¡± There was no response. ¡°Could you merge with me? Could we close the door that way?¡±


    Still no answer. Nic felt like he was close to something. But he was also acutely aware that he might have been led here, the way a child might be led to a dentist with encouraging worlds and the promise of ice cream later.


    He reached out with his mind, trying to feel his environment. When he paused his exchange with the demon, he became more aware of his surroundings. The dust, the closeness of rock and earth. He was trapped underground and there was no way to crawl out. The demon¡¯s offer seemed to be the only path to freedom. His freedom. Everyone else would be at the mercy of whatever passed through in the other direction.


    But nothing had passed through yet. Why was that?


    He let his mind wander a little further. He would have liked to have spoken with the others again. Not that it would serve any purpose, but it would be comforting to know they were okay.


    There was a barrier around them. Around him. He could feel it. The dome over the school that Fanny had mentioned, was that responsible for also keeping the demons from entering this world? Did something have to bring it down first?


    If it was something only he could do, he expected the demon would keep the fact from him, hoping to steer him into doing it without him realising. The willingness to act seemed to play a large part in how they worked.


    And then he felt something else. Out there, in the world. Not exactly a presence, not in the living sense, but a force. A pressure. An opening.


    ¡°Is there another door?¡± he asked, not really expecting an answer. Perhaps the other demon was making plans of its own.


    There is no other door I know of. They are hard to open.


    ¡°I can feel something¡­ Don¡¯t you?¡±


    There was a moment of silence, and then the darkness seemed to shift.


    Fools. What have they done? The demon¡¯s weak voice rallied with the force of its outrage. They have opened a gateway.


    ¡°Who have? The mages?¡± There was no answer, but the lack of response felt dismissive. ¡°Your followers in Gweur?¡± It seemed the only other option.


    They are trying to reach the other side. They know not what disaster they will produce from this folly.


    There was a desperate quality to the demon¡¯s prediction that Nic hadn¡¯t heard from it before. Almost¡­ fear.


    ¡°Can we stop them?¡±


    It is too unstable. Too weak. It will ruin both sides of the portal.


    ¡°Can we stop them?¡± asked Nic again, more insistent.


    It must be closed.


    ¡°How? We don¡¯t have the power to close the door, you said.¡±


    It can be done. It can, if....


    Nic wanted to urge the demon to finish its thought, but he instinctively knew to wait and stay quiet. If the demon was to offer a solution, one that required its own willing involvement, it would have to reach that conclusion for itself.


    We must merge.


    ¡°And then we can close both doors?¡±


    Yes.


    ¡°You agree to close both doors?¡±


    Yes.


    A trick? A trap, carefully and patiently laid out? There was no way to know, but the door was open, if not fully functional. If this allowed him to slam it shut, that would be enough. If allowing the demon to become part of him led to a disaster, it was unlikely to make things any worse. Unless there was more to this than he was able to perceive. He could simply be making a terrible mistake and the world would suffer the consequences.


    The thought of it was chilling, but he also felt a strong desire to take the chance. He had never been much of a gambler, and the odds weren¡¯t good, but the possible outcome was very attractive. And odds could always be adjusted.


    ¡°Will I be the one in control?¡± he asked, hoping for an honest answer, even if it later transformed into a sincerely offered lie.


    As much as you are now.


    Those were stark words whose ambiguity was not lost on him.


    ¡°What do I have to do?¡±


    Be willing.


    Dozens of needle-pronged flashes crackled through his skull, and his body stiffened in violent thrusts. His blood was on fire. He opened his mouth to scream, but the darkness rushed in to drown him.


    ***


    The pick shook and the rocks around it slowly disintegrated. Very slowly. In a mine, there would be dozens of these sticks placed within a fault or vein that the engineers had identified as the ideal location.


    Dizzy was going on a rather elementary understanding of geological excavation techniques. She had considered it an excellent acquisition from her father¡¯s collection, but unfortunately it hadn¡¯t come with an instruction booklet. The few times she had used it to get an idea of how it worked, the function had seemed fairly straightforward. You put it in the ground and turned it on by twisting the handle at the top. Apparently there was more to it.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think one is going to be enough,¡± said Davo. ¡°Not if we want to save Nic before he succumbs to old age.¡±


    She didn¡¯t appreciate the tone, but he had a point. There wasn¡¯t much she could do from up here. Maybe the boy¡¯s earlier point had been correct. Relying on one entrance or exit was poor design, and there was likely more than one way to get in and out. She just had to figure out where else the Pagoda might be connected to.


    Mr Tenner had been the chief user of the Pagoda¡¯s facilities, would there be an access point near his rooms? She racked her brains thinking of a possible location for a secret tunnel or passage. She had explored most of the school in her time here, and never come across anything like that. Then again, she had also been unaware of what the Pagoda was, or even that there was a mirrored dome on top of the library.


    ¡°We don¡¯t even know he¡¯s down there for certain,¡± said Davo.


    ¡°He¡¯s down there,¡± said Dizzy. But she wasn¡¯t sure, either. She just knew admitting doubt served no purpose when you were already committed.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you have anything else we could use?¡± asked Davo. ¡°Something a bit more¡­ heavyweight?¡±


    There were items in her possession that were of a more heavy duty nature. She would never contemplate using them unless the situation was dire, but that was a fair description of the current situation.


    There were risks. If her father knew she had such items in the middle of such a densely populated area, he would no doubt be horrified. But it was exactly because she had prepared for eventualities beyond what would be considered normal that she was now able to implement them.


    It made her very nervous, though. What kind of option was it to take a risk possibly far greater than the one you were trying to avoid?


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure we¡¯re at that point yet,¡± she said.


    ¡°Not sure? What happened to your speech about great leaders? Don¡¯t you have an instinctive certainty about what to do?¡±


    Dizzy brought her lips together tightly. Even then, she could feel the urge to teach him a thing or two about how to assess a complex position, and how to make the correct call. At least, that would be the gist of it. Mainly it would be well-deserved abuse.


    There was a rumble from deep below, and the pick ceased moving. They both stopped to stare at it.


    ¡°Did it break?¡± asked Davo.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± She took a step towards it, placing a foot within the ring around the stairwell.


    Her boot sank into what appeared to be sand.


    She yanked her foot back. The surface had changed to fine granules, trembling like the stretched skin on a drum. Then it began swirling, quickly dropping like water flowing down a pipe, taking the pick with it.


    Steps were revealed, and broken walls. Davo leaned closer, but not too close, with the lantern held ahead of him. The sand was already almost out of sight as the dark bottom of the stairwell was out of reach of the light.


    ¡°That worked better than I thought it would,¡± said Davo.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think that was how it¡¯s meant to work.¡±


    ¡°No?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    They stood leaning, listening to the sand swish away.


    ¡°Shouldn¡¯t we¡ª¡±


    Dizzy raised a hand to stop him talking, which he did, much to her surprise.


    ¡°I think someone¡¯s coming.¡±


    There was a figure climbing up the steps winding around the central shaft. A small dark head was approaching. A familiar one.


    ¡°Nic,¡± called down Davo. ¡°Are you alright?¡±


    A round face looked up at them, and smiled. ¡°Yeah. I¡¯m okay. Bit of a headache.¡± He waved and then jogged up the rest of the stairs.


    It was only when he got close to the top that his condition became clear. He was covered in dust and his clothes were badly ripped and torn. He was cut and blood had dried and congealed on his face and hands. Other than that, he looked more or less the same.


    ¡°What happened?¡± said Davo, grabbing him by the arms but stopping short of hugging him.


    ¡°It¡¯s a long story. Dizzy¡­¡± he said like he¡¯d only just noticed her. He held out the pick for her to take. ¡°What are you doing here?¡± He glanced sideways at Davo like he was berating him for allowing her to be here.


    ¡°I¡¯m saving you,¡± she said, pointedly. She took the pick from him.


    ¡°Oh. Thank you.¡±


    ¡°Yes, well done,¡± said Davo. ¡°Nic, come on, we have to¡ª¡±


    Dizzy pushed Davo back with the sharp end of the pick. ¡°Wait. We don¡¯t know if it¡¯s really him.¡± She took out a rod of black metal and held it in front of her.


    ¡°What do you mean? Of course it¡¯s him.¡±


    ¡°No, she¡¯s right,¡± said Nic. ¡°You don¡¯t know for sure.¡±


    ¡°Would you be suspicious of her,¡± asked Davo, ¡°if it was the other way around?¡±


    ¡°No. I would know if it was her.¡±


    ¡°What does that mean?¡± said Dizzy, annoyed. ¡°You think your ability to read people is better than mine?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said Nic. ¡°I¡¯m just more aware of you than you are of me.¡±


    On one level all he was saying was that he spent a lot more time thinking about her than she did about him, which was undoubtedly true. But on another level, he was saying his perceptions were sharper. Which clearly was nonsense.


    It didn¡¯t matter. There were more important matters to take care of.


    ¡°How did you do that?¡± She nodded towards the recently emptied stairwell.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t. I thought you did.¡±


    He looked the same, and he was as simple as ever, but she knew her device hadn¡¯t been responsible for what had just happened. She flicked her wrist holding the small rod, and a blade sprang out of the handle.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think Nic would have been able to come out of there unscathed. Who are you?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s me, Dizzy. Really.¡±


    ¡°Prove it.¡±


    ¡°How? Do you want me to share a childhood memory?¡±


    ¡°That wouldn¡¯t prove anything. You seem to share those with anyone who¡¯ll listen.¡±


    ¡°Then I don¡¯t¡­ can we at least get out of here. I don¡¯t think we have much time.¡±


    ¡°Time for what?¡± asked Davo.


    ¡°Hey, quiet,¡± snapped Dizzy. ¡°Okay, outside. You first, then you.¡± She jerked the dagger towards the door. He was right, they should get out of here. If he really had escaped, someone was bound to notice. And she needed to find out what he knew.


    Davo put his hands on his hips. ¡°I don¡¯t think¡ª¡±


    ¡°Do what she says,¡± said Nic. ¡°She¡¯s not being unreasonable.¡±


    Davo frowned, but started backing towards the door. ¡°That¡¯s a nice knife, by the way. Looks custom-made.¡±


    Dizzy nodded. ¡°That¡¯s right. Let¡¯s go.¡±


    Nic followed Davo out. She was right behind him, scanning him from behind for any signs of the abnormal. She had no idea what she was looking for. A tail, perhaps.


    Outside, the sky was as black and empty as before. Nic was staring up at, breathing in deeply.


    ¡°We thought you were dead,¡± said Davo.


    ¡°I was,¡± said Nic, ¡°very nearly.¡±


    ¡°Explain what happened,¡± said Dizzy, still holding the dagger in a ready position. It was, as Davo had noticed, custom-made. There weren¡¯t any like it, made of the same material as the pen Nic had. But she hadn¡¯t been gifted it by her father. She had made it herself. She didn¡¯t know if it would work against demons or the demon-possessed, but perhaps she would find out. Soon.


    ¡°So, um...¡± said Nic, ¡°I¡¯ll try to make this quick. I sort of merged with the demon.¡±


    ¡°You did what?¡± said Davo.


    ¡°That would kill you,¡± said Dizzy.


    ¡°Yes. If I hadn¡¯t already been poisoned with Arcanum already, and survived. I was meant to be used to open a doorway into the other place. I think they¡¯ve been preparing me for the role since I got here. I thought maybe I had fallen into the middle of something by luck, but I don¡¯t think so. I was just an easy target. A child is easier to control and manipulate than an adult.¡±


    ¡°Then how did you escape?¡± asked Dizzy.


    He pointed up at the sky. ¡°I don¡¯t think this is the demon¡¯s work.¡±


    ¡°No?¡± said Davo. ¡°Then who?¡±


    ¡°Yes, who?¡± said Dizzy.


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure. The Archmage. Your father. I think it¡¯s to keep the demons from accessing the doorway.¡±


    Dizzy nodded. ¡°They were prepared to sacrifice us all to prevent them coming through.¡±


    ¡°I think so,¡± said Nic. ¡°There¡¯s another door in Gweur. I¡¯m supposed to go stop it, like a hero.¡±


    ¡°But you aren¡¯t going to?¡± said Dizzy.


    ¡°No. Not right now, at least. What am I going to do? Sixteen year old boys aren¡¯t good at being the most important person in the world. They¡¯re better at¡ª¡±


    ¡°Being controlled and manipulated,¡± Dizzy finished for him. She was starting to think this was her Nic. The thought brought her up short. Why had she called him that? Just a slip of the tongue. ¡°They want you to escape and get to the other door.¡±


    ¡°But how did you get away?¡± asked Davo.


    ¡°The demon let him go,¡± said Dizzy.


    ¡°But is the demon still inside of you?¡± said Davo. ¡°Won¡¯t it take control?¡±


    They both turned to look at Nic.


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°How will you stop it, Nic?¡±


    ¡°Ah,¡± said Nic. ¡°That¡¯s the interesting part. I had to¡ª¡±


    Dizzy staggered, and then fell. Nic turned to Davo, and then all the way around. It was hard for Dizzy to see past Nic. Someone was there. She wanted to tell him to move, but she couldn¡¯t speak.


    ¡°You made it out,¡± said Denkne. ¡°Will wonders never cease?¡±


    ¡°Mr Denkne, are you alright?¡± Nic sounded genuinely concerned.


    ¡°It looks worse than it is.¡± He began choking. ¡°A little trouble with some of Miss Delcroix¡¯s friends. But then they vanished into thin air. Remarkably fortunate. I imagine that means their progenitor has been eliminated. My condolences.¡±


    Something had happened to her father, that¡¯s what he was saying. If the wraiths had dematerialised, that was probably a correct assumption. It also meant she was defenceless.


    There was the sound of something falling to the floor.


    Nic bent down, his face approaching hers. It was hard to focus. Was he indicating something to her non-verbally? If so, she had no idea what. He picked something up by her. The dagger.


    As he straightened up, she saw a figure sitting on the ground. She knew it was Denkne from the white hair. There was also a lot of red. He had done well to survive as long as had. Long enough to reach her and get his revenge.


    ¡°Now, now. No need for that,¡± said Denke.


    Nic had his arm raised. The dagger glinted in his hand. And then he threw it.


    It didn¡¯t hit Denkne. It was well wide of the mark, if that had been his target. But it hadn¡¯t.


    Davo let out a cry of pain and shock. More shock. He fell.


    There were three of them on the ground now, and only Nic on his feet. She didn¡¯t like the symbolism of it.


    Hands reached around her and pulled her up. At least she could see clearly now. His hands were very firm around her waist. A little too firm, perhaps. She would allow it, this time.


    ¡°Nic!¡± called out Davo. ¡°Wh¡ª¡± He was struggling to breathe.


    ¡°This might hurt,¡± said Nic into her ear. It did. Everything went black.

 Chapter Forty Four

    The Pagoda rose into the starless sky that hung over them like a black canopy. The shape began to grow more distinct as Nic¡¯s eyes adjusted. Were they demon eyes, now? Able to see in the dark. No stories mentioned it. It seemed unlikely.


    The Pagoda¡¯s walls seemed rickety, the eaves ragged and misaligned. It was ominous, mostly shadow and outline in the feeble light of the lanterns ringing it, the suggestion more threatening than the reality. Nic stared up at it, his breath making his numb lips tingle. The nights were supposed to be getting shorter. This one seemed to be eternal. The air was cold, and the chill seeped into him.


    This had been such an impressive sight when he first came here. He had thought himself lucky to be chosen. So lucky. One in a million, or at least, one in a couple of thousand. Made privy to the secrets it held below.


    It had delighted him, he could see that now. To be invited into the inner sanctum. It didn¡¯t really matter what it was the inner sanctum to. Anyone observing him would have seen maybe mild curiosity. That was all he would have admitted to. Even to himself.


    He had been lucky, indeed. Specially chosen to be prepared with large doses of near-lethal Arcanum. Even back then, they were readying him for this moment. Like a calf being fattened for the slaughter, timing it so he¡¯d be the perfect host for a demon.


    He could feel it inside him. In his blood.


    Nic looked up again. At the cage. It appeared to be a dome, but it was more likely a sphere, closed around them from above and below. It was a good thing he wasn¡¯t meant to be the hero, fighting alone against a sea of demons clamouring to get past him, trying to save everyone. Nic Tutt, defender of the portal! The name didn¡¯t fit very well. He would have failed.


    Davo flopped about, his head rapidly turning from side to side. The hilt of Dizzy¡¯s black dagger buried in his chest, on the other side from his heart. Nic had made sure to aim on that side because he didn¡¯t trust his aim. It was high up on the chest, though. In his shoulder.


    ¡°Nggh,¡± said Davo through gritted teeth. ¡°Get it out.¡± His fingers clawed at the dirt, his eyes squeezed shut.


    ¡°In a minute,¡± said Nic. ¡°It has to finish first.¡±


    Davo arched his body and spasmed in what looked like a painful manner.


    How had he known the dagger would work? He had never seen anything like it before. He had no way of knowing how it functioned. But he had been completely sure of the effect. He still was, even though Davo¡¯s condition did not seem to be improving.


    His friend was in an immense amount of pain. Pain caused by him. But his observation was without emotion. Was that a side-effect of merging with the demon?


    He remembered it happening, the demon sliding through him. He could recall his own immense pain, but as an abstract memory. It was gone now. And the demon was inside him. Not just in his mind, in his body, in his blood. The thought of it made him feel a slithering movement within his veins.


    It was a fanciful notion, but enough to chill the blood across his chest. He pulled Dizzy closer.


    The pen sticking out of her neck was humming. It was also growing warmer; Nic could feel the heat from it. He had her head in the crook of his arm. She was limp and unconscious, her weight fully pressed against him.


    That¡¯s why he had to hold on tightly. It was that or let her fall.


    He readjusted to keep her vertical. Wherever her body touched his, a warmth spread through him. Her smell was comforting and familiar. Not sweet or flowery, though. She was more likely to choose insect repellent and healing balms than rouge and powder.


    As children, she would daub her face with mud before playing hide-and-seek. She was a nightmare to find. And take three days of rations and a wide-necked flask for collecting urine when playing in the garden. The flask was to prevent tracking by dogs, she would explain, even though Nic had no dogs to send after her. It also came in useful to fight dehydration, she would tell him, in great detail. Some knowledge you really were better off without. There was a lesson he had failed to learn.


    Davo made a gurgling sound that didn¡¯t sound healthy. ¡°You¡­ stabbed me.¡± His words were coming out fully formed now. That was a good sign.


    ¡°Yes. Sorry.¡±


    ¡°You c-c-could put her downnnnn.¡± And then, sometimes it took a little longer to clear the mind completely of outside interference.


    ¡°No, it works better if she¡¯s upright.¡± How did he know that? He would assume the demon had something to do with it, but there was no sense he was drawing on some alien knowledge. It just seemed the right thing to do.


    ¡°Nnn you stabbed me, you stabbed her.¡±


    ¡°Had to,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°But not him?¡± Davo couldn¡¯t indicate who he meant, not very clearly, but it was fairly obvious.


    Denkne was sitting awkwardly, folded in half like a ragdoll, his forehead touching the ground between his splayed knees. His clothes were badly ripped, and he was bleeding.


    ¡°No point. He doesn¡¯t have any power left.¡±


    ¡°H-h-how do you know?¡±


    A reasonable question. ¡°If he did, we¡¯d all be dead.¡± A good answer. No demon-heightened senses necessary to state the obvious. Although, maybe he was feeling a tiny bit more focused.


    A freshness permeated his mind. His head was clear. He breathed in the night air, and it filled him with a cool, crisp alertness.


    ¡°Librarian. Demon. Got Fanny¡­¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, we¡¯ll get him.¡± Where did this confidence come from? All the time he had been trying to figure out what was happening, he was being led by a rope. One around his neck. Why would things be any different now?


    This was all part of someone else¡¯s plan. He had studied enough history to know a strategy when he saw one. If he was in position to make a move, he had been placed there, the move predicted in advance.


    How could they know which direction he would go in? They couldn¡¯t guarantee it, but they didn¡¯t have to. A maze can have more than one route to the centre.


    He looked up at the empty sky. He squinted, as though he would see better that way. His newly acquired demon-sight enabling him to part the veil. But there was nothing to see.


    ¡°What are you doing? Hey.¡± The irritated tone brought his focus back, sharply.


    Her eyes were open, looking at him. Not kindly.


    She was in his arms, leaning back, her face turned up. Close to him. Very close.


    The clarity deserted him. ¡°I¡­ you were¡­ a spell. I¡­¡±


    ¡°If you did anything to me while I was unconscious,¡± she whispered, ¡°I will kill you.¡±


    ¡°What? No, I mean, what are you saying? What do you think I would do?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re holding me in your arms. I don¡¯t remember giving you permission.¡±


    He let go of her, and she began to topple. Her body had not returned to full mobility yet. He grabbed her before she was out of reach, and pulled her in, slamming her head against his chest.


    ¡°Put me down,¡± she mumbled into his chest. ¡°On the ground.¡±


    He lowered her, gently letting her slide out of his hold, and stepped back. He quickly stepped forward again, and bent down to snatch the pen out of her neck, blood dripping from the nib.


    She winced, then looked up at the pen like it was a murder weapon he was planning to use against her. He quickly stuffed it into a pocket.


    ¡°You aren¡¯t listening to me,¡± said Dizzy. She sat up, her hand pressed against her neck.


    ¡°You weren¡¯t saying anything,¡± he said, confused.


    ¡°Why would I say anything when you aren¡¯t paying attention?¡±


    Nic smiled. It had been a long time he had heard her be so pedantic. Her recent attitude towards him had been to not consider him worth the effort.


    ¡°Why are you smiling? There isn¡¯t much to be amused about. We still have to find a way out of this mess.¡±


    ¡°I know. It was nice hearing you being so unreasonable. Usually, you just glare and ignore me.¡±


    ¡°Hey!¡± said Davo, his voice weak and struggling to breathe. ¡°Any chance you could¡­¡± He ran out of air and began wheezing.


    Nic stood up. ¡°Sorry. Erm¡­¡± He looked back at Dizzy who was getting unsteadily to her feet, still patting where he had inserted the pen. He knew what trying to help her up would get him. ¡°Could you¡­?¡±


    He indicated the hilt sticking out of Davo¡¯s chest. It had been a pretty good throw. He would have liked her to notice that.


    ¡°What do you expect me to do?¡± said Dizzy.


    ¡°Patch him up,¡± said Nic. ¡°He¡¯s bleeding.¡±


    ¡°Yes. You stabbed him.¡±


    ¡°I had to. He was under the demon¡¯s control.¡±


    ¡°The demon inside you?¡±


    ¡°No. The other demon. The Librarian.¡±


    Dizzy frowned, then looked down at Davo. He was flailing his limbs slowly, like a fish out of water too long to struggle much longer.


    Her hands darted around in the pouches on her belt. Bandages, iodine, a suture kit. She knelt down and yanked the dagger out casually, and thrust it into the ground by her bent knee.


    Davo gasped, mouth a large O. He would have screamed, probably, if his lungs had the air.Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.


    Dizzy pulled the stopper out of the bottle with her teeth, stuffed the bandages in Davo¡¯s open mouth like it was convenient storage space, and poured the contents of the bottle on the wound. Davo buckled, screaming into the bandages.


    ¡°How did you know?¡± she asked.


    ¡°About him? Seemed pretty obvious. He was acting weird.¡±


    Lit from behind, it was difficult to make out her expression. He didn¡¯t need to see her eyes, the tilt of her head told him there was absolutely no acceptance of his answer. ¡°You said you merged with this demon that¡¯s been living inside you. Did it give you the ability to read minds?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said Nic, like he¡¯d been accused of something. ¡°I mean, I don¡¯t think so. I can¡¯t read yours.¡±


    ¡°Just as well,¡± said Dizzy, tersely. She turned back to Davo who had paled and was bathed in sweat. She ripped his shirt a little wider so she could see the wound. Davo protested via muffled sounds, more concerned about the tailoring fees than the blood. Blood could be removed with the correct detergents, tears were impossible to repair.


    Maybe he could read minds. Davo¡¯s whole argument seemed to be laid out in front of him. Although the magic he¡¯d gained might only be to understand garbled complaints, which any dentist could also claim to do.


    ¡°It¡¯s minor,¡± said Dizzy, leaning over Davo. ¡°You¡¯re lucky he didn¡¯t have the strength to do any real damage.¡±


    Davo didn¡¯t seem placated by this news. Nic wasn¡¯t too happy with it either. He had thought his dagger-throw had been quite solid, for a novice.


    She took out a needle. The thread was already attached. ¡°Keep still or this will hurt even more.¡±


    As Nic watched her work, he also wondered how he had known. It was true that Davo had seemed to be acting unnaturally, but to go from that to throwing a dagger at him was quite a leap. One he would not have normally made so readily, he was sure. It wasn¡¯t so much the knowledge he questioned, it was his reaction to it.


    Had he been the one who acted. Was it his choice to pick up the dagger and hurl it like a man of action on the field of battle? It didn¡¯t sound like him. It was more like a character in a story. That was the worrying part. He knew how much store demons put by such things.


    Was the demon responsible? Would he deserve no credit for anything he achieved from here on out?


    ¡°You can¡¯t be trusted,¡± said Dizzy.


    ¡°I¡¯m in control,¡± said Nic.


    Her eyes bore into him, like she was trying to penetrate a disguise. ¡°Maybe. For now. But what if it¡¯s just biding its time?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure it is. But this is the only option I had.¡± He looked up at the sky. ¡°It¡¯s not like it can get out of here.¡±


    ¡°No, but you can. Otherwise it wouldn¡¯t have agreed to whatever you convinced it to do. You know that I¡¯m right.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Nic. ¡°I know.¡±


    ¡°So, you¡¯ll listen to me? I give the orders?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said Davo, muffled by the mouthful of bandages.


    She snatched the bandages out of his mouth. ¡°He¡¯s got a demon inside him, and you¡¯ve been appropriated once already. Who do you suggest we take instructions from? The traitorous mage?¡±


    ¡°As long as I have control of myself,¡± said Nic, ¡°I can make use of this¡­ whatever it is I feel.¡±


    ¡°And what happens when you lose control?¡±


    ¡°Then cut my throat.¡± He said it very matter-of-factly. ¡°You¡¯ll have to stay close to me. When you see me change, do it. You know me better than anyone, you¡¯ll be able to tell.¡±


    ¡°A fine plan,¡± said Denkne, his head weakly lifted from the ground. His eyes were bloodshot, and his mouth swollen from bruising. The stylish white hair he wore like a plume, hung limp and damp, streaked with dirt and blood.


    Dizzy stood up, walked over to him, and kicked him in the face.


    His head snapped back and flew backwards to land on the ground behind. Still attached to his neck, but a couple more kicks like that and it wouldn¡¯t be. His jaw was sure to be broken, which would make it hard for him to cast spells. But not impossible.


    She knelt down and stuffed the bandages into the mage¡¯s unhinged mouth, then wound the ends of the bandage around his face to complete the gag.


    She looked around, found a rock, and picked it up. With short, efficient slams, she broke the fingers on both his hands.


    She answered Nic¡¯s horrified look with a curt, ¡°I can¡¯t kill him, they¡¯ll probably want to ask him some questions. This way he won¡¯t be a threat.¡±


    Simole had dealt with a mage much the same way, if with different tools. She had used her magic to ruin the red mage¡¯s hands. Dizzy had taken a more basic route.


    She stood up and turned to face him. ¡°Yes, I know you. I know how your mind works. Which is why I know I¡¯m the only one who can lead us out of this.¡±


    Nic looked at her, standing there with her jaw clenched and her eyes on fire. It was hard not to agree with her. Especially after he¡¯d seen what she was prepared to do with a rock in her hand.


    ¡°And stop looking at me like that. Enough. I am not the love of your life, or whatever pedestal you¡¯ve put me on. We were children. Nothing more.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not that simple,¡± said Nic, unsure how she had interpreted the look of intense dismay he was sure had been on his face as adoration. ¡°What I feel¡ª¡±


    ¡°Puberty. You feel puberty. I just happen to be the only girl you ever spent time with, so you fixated on me. What you feel is normal for a boy of your age. You just have a habit of narrowing everything down to one thing, and become obsessed, which is why you make such a good student. You can push everything else out of your mind, and lose yourself in that one subject, the thing you¡¯re drawn to. It was the same when we were children. It¡¯s the same now. If it wasn¡¯t me, it would be another girl, or boy, or a hole in a tree. It¡¯s just your biological need combined with your single-bloody-mindedness.¡±


    Nic flinched. He understood what she was saying, and there was a degree of truth to it, but it hadn¡¯t been anyone else. And it hadn¡¯t been a hole in a tree. It had been her.


    ¡°I can¡¯t help the way I feel. What do you suggest I do about it?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. Whatever boys normally do to relieve the pressure of adolescence. Infatuation isn¡¯t healthy.¡±


    He smiled ruefully. ¡°If you recall, I already distanced myself from you. I did my best to keep you away. You came here looking for me. No one invited you. You¡¯re the one doing the chasing.¡±


    ¡°This is completely different. The only reason I¡¯m following you is because of the company you keep. It¡¯s the only way to stop whatever¡¯s happening here.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re lying,¡± said Nic, completely certain of it. ¡°But it doesn¡¯t matter. This is something I have to do. There¡¯s too much you don¡¯t know, and I don¡¯t have time to explain it. If you insist on being involved, fine. But the only person who makes the decisions from this point forward is me. You don¡¯t lead, I do.¡±


    He stepped past her and grabbed Davo¡¯s arm to pull him to his feet.


    Dizzy watched him with narrowed eyes and a tightly closed mouth. She took a breath, allowing herself to think more clearly. He knew that was her way of letting go of her anger and repositioning for the next offensive. He could read her like a book. He didn¡¯t need any magic to do that.


    ¡°You said if you acted oddly, I should cut your throat.¡± She turned the dagger hilt in her hand. He hadn¡¯t even noticed her pick it up.


    ¡°I did,¡± said Nic. ¡°But don¡¯t judge me odd from up here.¡± He pointed at his head. ¡°It isn¡¯t where you judge best.¡±


    It was her turn to flinch this time. Then her face contorted into anger. ¡°What are you talking about? I told you to stop with that nonsense. You can¡¯t start acting all mystical and think people are going to do what you say. I¡¯m not going to follow your orders. You have a demon inside you!¡±


    It was a reasonable point she was making. Very hard to argue against. In truth, he had no way to tell if his thoughts, his choices, were truly his own.


    ¡°I don¡¯t disagree with what you¡¯re saying,¡± said Nic, ¡°but I don¡¯t think there¡¯s anything wrong with trying to get Fanny safe.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what you want to do? The world is about to fall to the demon horde, and you want to go check on your fat friend.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a bit uncalled for,¡± said Davo. He was on his feet, one hand over the stitches below his shoulder bone.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know how much longer I have,¡± said Nic. ¡°If I do lose control, that¡¯s it. I accept that. But until then, they have to leave me alone. If they consider me their way out of here, then any sign of interference from them will give it away. They have to rely on my desire to save the world. A boy¡¯s fantasy to be a hero.¡±


    ¡°When have you ever wanted to be a hero?¡± asked Dizzy.


    ¡°Never,¡± said Nic. ¡°That¡¯s the only thing they didn¡¯t predict. What boy with the chance to be a hero would turn his back on it? I¡¯ll tell you. The kind who¡¯d already seen what it took to grow up with that goal. Who grew up with you.¡±


    Dizzy scowled, batting away what he knew she would see as meaningless flattery. ¡°Isn¡¯t that exactly the sort of thing the demon would make you say to try and win me over?¡±


    ¡°No. Because demons don¡¯t work that way. The demon would offer you what you wanted, not remind you of what you already have. And this one doesn¡¯t have the strength to force the issue. Not yet.


    ¡°The whole process so far has been based on getting a door open,¡± he went on. ¡°That¡¯s been the goal from the start. Poisoning me, feeding me enough power to handle the merger, the demon weakening itself to the point a teenage boy could absorb it. The only way I could contain a demon within my delicate frame was for the demon to be at its most insubstantial. It would just break me, otherwise.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t know that,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°Feeble as it is, it could still take control of your even more feeble mind.¡±


    ¡°Harsh, but not altogether unreasonable,¡± said Davo.


    ¡°Even if you do still have full control of your faculties,¡± said Dizzy, ¡°you don¡¯t know when the influence will begin. It could be very subtle. You can¡¯t have a leader second-guessing every decision they make.¡±


    He couldn¡¯t fault the logic. He was already questioning every thought he was having. And from what he knew of the demon, it would wait until the perfect moment and he probably wouldn¡¯t even realise it. He hadn¡¯t the other times.


    ¡°You¡¯re right.¡±


    ¡°I am?¡± said Dizzy, her tone suggesting she was expecting more.


    ¡°She is?¡± said Davo, sounding the same.


    ¡°What do you want to do?¡± said Nic.


    Dizzy seemed to grow in stature as she seized her chance. ¡°I want to get away from here, find somewhere safe and easy to defend, and stay there.¡±


    Davo laughed, scoffing at the idea. ¡°You want to hide?¡±


    ¡°Clearly the demon wants Nic to find a way out. This other door, the only reason they want you to go there is to use it instead of the one here.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°Any attempt by us to outmanoeuvre the demon is bound to fail. It¡¯s just playing into their hands. We can¡¯t be so blind as to think we can possibly defeat a demon by doing what it wants.¡±


    Nic nodded, watching her closely. Something about the way she was so married to this idea didn¡¯t feel quite right.


    ¡°You want to abandon everyone,¡± said Davo. ¡°Fanny, the rest, make sure we all die in here as planned?¡±


    ¡°Why not? It¡¯s a good plan. Or would you rather we let the demons out and let them kill and enslave the whole of Ranvar, the whole world, even? That¡¯s what will happen, you can count on it. Better we sacrifice ourselves than the alternative.¡±


    In that moment, Nic realised three incontrovertible truths. First, Dizzy believed her father was dead, and that she was responsible. Second, that his insights were his own. The demon had given him no special abilities, not yet anyway. Third, the reason they had managed to defeat the demons in the past was because they could never grasp the concept of a true lie. A lie so pure it couldn¡¯t be used against the person who told it.


    ¡°He isn¡¯t dead,¡± said Nic.


    Dizzy, all wide-eyed determination a moment ago, came to a shuddering halt. ¡°What do¡ª¡±


    ¡°Your father, he isn¡¯t dead.¡±


    ¡°But his agents¡­ I can¡¯t call them.¡± Her voice was suddenly very small, her face tiny.


    ¡°I can¡¯t explain it. I only know what I know.¡± He knew no such thing, only that she needed to hear him say it, was desperate to hear it.


    She stared at him, shaken. Unable to react correctly. Searching through her catalogue of appropriate countermeasures, and finding nothing.


    She was right that he would be second-guessing himself, always wondering when the demon would make its move. But it wasn¡¯t himself he would need to trust. He had her. His perception of what was real never wavered when it came to her. She was as immutable to him as any book. You couldn¡¯t slip an extra chapter into a story someone knew by heart, and expect it to go unnoticed.


    ¡°We need to go find the Librarian,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°Fanny,¡± said Davo, relief palpable in his voice.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think the Librarian is our enemy. Not in the same way. She¡¯s different.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said Dizzy, trying to climb her way out of the pit of hope he¡¯d dropped her in. ¡°It¡¯s a trick. That¡¯s what they want you to do.¡±


    ¡°You can stay here, if you want,¡± said Nic.


    Her face was calm again. ¡°And how will I kill you from here, if the need arises.¡±


    ¡°I thought you weren¡¯t going to follow my orders.¡±


    ¡°All except that one.¡±


    ¡°Have you finally come to an agreement?¡± said a voice from high above them.


    They looked up, over at the library roof. The Librarian was standing there, looking down at them. Had she been there the whole time they¡¯d been squabbling?


    ¡°If you want to talk, you should come up. All four of you.¡±


    Nic looked at the other two, and then Denkne, still unconscious. And then realised she hadn¡¯t included him.


    ¡°Alright,¡± he said.


    ¡°This could be a terrible mistake,¡± said Dizzy. But she followed him to the library.

 Chapter Forty Five

    Nic closed his eyes for a second, a last minute attempt to marshall his thoughts. The dark emptiness overhead was distracting in a bland, unobtrusive way. It was the incongruity of it. When you were used to a riot of stars, or the uneven texture of nighttime clouds, a blank slate became a shocking thing to see.


    He was entering into a situation where he had little chance of coming out victorious. Even if he had the requisite powers to defeat the forces lined up against him, he would probably still fail, just from the lack of experience. You had to know how to wield powers before they could be employed in any sort of life-saving capacity.


    It was also highly likely that any notion of self-control he had was an illusion. He had been led here, given the unique abilities of a demon ¡ª so unique he had no idea what they were ¡ª and placed in this pivotal position. Not by his own cleverness, but by the machinations of those who found it convenient to do so. Convenient and profitable, as Davo would probably characterise it.


    The question was, when you find yourself in the heart of a problem, with access to the most sensitive buttons and levers, but not the power to activate them, how do you use that access to your advantage?


    He racked his brain for some sort of historical example he might be able to draw guidance from. And the only thoughts that came to him were ones reminding him he wasn¡¯t alone. That any thoughts would be shared with the enemy. That any thoughts may come from the enemy, leading him another step closer to the goal they had set for him. It made it very hard to think clearly.


    Nic took a breath, eyes still closed. He didn¡¯t actually know if the demon was still present in a distinct form. He had agreed to merge with it ¡ª quite possibly an agreement he had been tricked into ¡ª and he had a vague recollection of great pain. But there was no memory of what had happened or how the two had settled into their partnership. Just a gap. Which in itself was quite worrying.


    It was an awful risk to do anything other than what Dizzy had suggested: find somewhere to hide, wait for the adults to resolve the problem. But the first mages had merged with demons to gain their powers, and they had retained their sense of self. Hadn¡¯t they?


    He began to silently recite his own name over and over, hoping the reminder would help anchor his consciousness to his mind. And then he was falling, slowly at first, into black water, without sound, no splash or ripple, sinking, saying his name, saying his name...


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± said Dizzy, impatiently.


    ¡°Let him have a moment,¡± said Davo, his voice strained.


    Nic staggered slightly, even though he was standing still, and opened his eyes. Davo was wincing, one hand on his shoulder where the stab wound was still raw. He seemed to be pressing on it, which was bound to hurt, but sometimes a sharper pain helped distract from an unrelenting dull one.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± said Nic. ¡°I was just making sure I¡¯m still me.¡±


    ¡°And how would you know?¡± asked Dizzy.


    She was standing in front of the library¡¯s back door, which was open. She had opened it, but not with any special device or even blunt force. All it had taken was turning the handle. The dark doorway was both inviting, and taunting.


    ¡°You¡¯re you,¡± said Davo. ¡°For now, at least.¡±


    Dizzy turned to look at Davo. Nic couldn¡¯t see her eyes, but her stance told him she wasn¡¯t impressed by the diagnosis.


    ¡°And how would you know?¡±


    ¡°You aren¡¯t the only one to have spent time with him, Miss Delcroix.¡±


    ¡°A few months? You think that¡¯s enough time to pass judgement?¡±


    ¡°Some of us are able to discern the good from the bad without the need for years of study. I realise the two of you are remarkable students, but try not to forget I, too, am here on merit, and not just for my good-looks and sartorial elegance. If those were the criteria for entry, I imagine it would be quite a bore to have to sit in an empty classroom day after day.¡±


    ¡°You know, I could always put the dagger back where I found it,¡± said Dizzy.


    Davo blanched, taking her threat seriously, which ably proved he indeed could discern the good from the bad in people.


    Dizzy wasn¡¯t happy, Nic could see that plainly. She had never been the type to be pleased when things went well, and unhappy when they went poorly. The task needed completing regardless. Problems never worried her, as long as she was in control. But she wasn¡¯t in control, and she wasn¡¯t happy.


    ¡°You¡¯ll need the dagger for me,¡± said Nic. ¡°Maybe.¡±


    Dizzy nodded, accepting the prioritising of targets.


    ¡°What¡¯s the plan?¡± asked Davo, peering into the libraries innards. No one had put themselves forward as the vanguard.


    ¡°Plan?¡± said Dizzy before Nic had a chance to say anything. ¡°You think there¡¯s the possibility of a plan for¡­ this?¡± She pointed at the doorway, dagger in hand.


    ¡°What would you suggest?¡± said Davo. ¡°Run in blind?¡±


    ¡°It makes no difference,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°You either delay or you get on with it. Whatever we face in there, it won¡¯t be something we can prepare for. You don¡¯t prepare for the unexpected, or the unknowable. You prepare yourself. You prepare your instincts to act without thought. There¡¯s entirely too much thinking among mages¡­ and demons.¡± She gave Nic a sharp glance. ¡°The mind can do amazing things if you don¡¯t waste its time with thinking.¡±


    There was a lot he agreed with her in what she said, but he didn¡¯t have the same kind of training she did.


    ¡°But I¡ª¡± He swayed backwards as Dizzy swung her hand at his face. The open hand narrowly missed hitting him. He was relieved it hadn¡¯t been the hand holding the dagger.


    ¡°Hey! What¡¯re y¡ª¡± Davo cut himself off. ¡°How did you do that?¡± he asked Nic.


    ¡°Do what?¡±


    ¡°How did you evade her strike? Is that the¡­ was that the demon?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°That was me, wasn¡¯t it Nic?¡±


    Nic touched his tingling face with hesitant fingers, testing to make sure he hadn¡¯t actually been struck and not noticed. His face was reacting to the attempt. If there¡¯d been contact, there¡¯d be more than a mere tingle. ¡°She always attacked me when I didn¡¯t agree with her. When we were children.¡±


    ¡°And you learned to avoid it. Not by thinking or arguing, but by moving out of the way. Even back then, I was teaching you a valuable lesson. You¡¯re welcome.¡±


    Nic frowned. ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure you were genuinely trying to hit me, and I taught you the valuable lesson about avoiding predictable patterns of behaviour.¡±


    She waved a dismissive hand at him. ¡°The point is, it didn¡¯t take extensive calculations to work out what to do. Self-preservation is the only thing you need to practice.¡±


    ¡°And that¡¯s going to be our weapon in the face of demonic magic, is it?¡± asked Davo. ¡°Ducking?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s going to be our strategy. Nic is going to be the weapon. And I am going to be the hand that holds the weapon.¡±


    Nic felt the bloom of heat in his face as he blushed.


    ¡°What are you doing? I didn¡¯t mean it like that.¡± Now it was her turn to blush. ¡°Ugh. I can¡¯t believe how your mind works. Let¡¯s go save your fat friend at least.¡± She pointedly didn¡¯t make eye-contact with Davo as she pushed past him into the dark interior.


    ¡°You two had a very strange relationship as children, didn¡¯t you?¡±


    Nic made a point of not making eye-contact with him, either, as he followed Dizzy into the library. It was dark and quiet, which wasn¡¯t unusual.


    ¡°I have this strange sense of grace,¡± whispered Davo from behind. ¡°The calm you feel when you know you¡¯re going to die.¡±


    Nic softly tiptoed up the stairs. ¡°I feel it too. Only, I don¡¯t think it¡¯s because we¡¯re going to die, I think it¡¯s because we should already be dead.¡± He half-smiled at the realisation of what he was saying, how morbid it was, yet still optimistic. He stopped halfway up the stairs and turned. ¡°Everything from here is gravy.¡±


    Davo shook his head. ¡°I¡¯m sure Fanny will be pleased. He likes gravy.¡±


    ¡°One more meal together,¡± said Nic. ¡°I hope we can sit down at our table one more time.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s hopeless though, isn¡¯t it? There¡¯s no way we can resist a demon. I couldn¡¯t. I didn¡¯t even know I was supposed to. How will you stop her making you do whatever she wants.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t have to.¡± Nic nodded past Davo¡¯s shoulder at the windows, tall and dark. ¡°They¡¯ve already stopped them. They didn¡¯t need our help. Not mine, anyway. I was here to draw them out, I think. They¡¯d be mad to rely on me to do anything more than that.¡±


    Davo looked over his shoulder like there would be something to see. There was and there wasn¡¯t. The dome sealing them in was a difficult thing to see, even when it was all around them.


    ¡°You think that¡¯s their entire plan? Lock us in and let us wither on the vine?¡±


    Nic shrugged. ¡°Whatever the Archmage has done, I¡¯m sure he¡¯s done it with no chance I can break out of here.¡±


    ¡°Then what did the demon want from you?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯d like to find out.¡± He turned to head up the stairs.


    Dizzy was standing there, glaring at them impatiently, but not speaking. Had she been listening? Perhaps hoping to pick up an indication that he was not himself. He couldn¡¯t see if the dagger was in her hand, but if not, it would be within reach.


    ¡°Hurry up,¡± she mouthed wordlessly, as if it mattered. It gave him the impression there was a window between them, but he couldn¡¯t tell which of them was on the inside. ¡°Stop wasting time.¡± Also silently.


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to whisper,¡± said Davo. ¡°She knows we¡¯re coming.¡± He was getting a little irritated with her.


    Lights came on somewhere above them, as though joining in the conversation, emphatically siding with Davo.


    Dizzy found her voice again. ¡°Your fat friend needs¡ª¡±


    ¡°And stop calling him that,¡± said Davo, responding to her speaking aloud by speaking even louder.


    Nic knew she was deliberately aggravating him. Not because she was a mean person, although there was a case to be made for that, too, but because she didn¡¯t trust him. He had been an agent of the enemy not long before, and he could be again. She meant to keep him off-balance, but there wasn¡¯t really any need. Davo was hardly the only one susceptible.


    ¡°It¡¯s not going to be him again,¡± Nic said to her.


    The glare slipped into a look of consternation. ¡°And how do you know that? Demon whispering in your ear?¡±Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    ¡°No. I just don¡¯t think there¡¯s a need. We¡¯re already here. If she wants to kill us, she will. It won¡¯t get her what she wants, though. You don¡¯t think so, either. If you thought it could, you would never have let me come here. You¡¯re just as curious as I am, and neither of us has anywhere else to be.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re wrong. I¡¯m here to stop her. You don¡¯t know what she¡¯s planning, but that doesn¡¯t mean she isn¡¯t planning something. A way to slip past that barrier, a way to turn you inside out and get her friend back. This is the moment where the end will be decided, so this is where I am. I wouldn¡¯t miss it for the world.¡±


    She turned and started up the stairs again. Head held high, confident on her way into the ring. She had always wanted to prove herself. Here was her big chance. He was curious about that, too.


    ¡°She¡¯s crazy,¡± muttered Davo. ¡°Probably get us killed.¡±


    By the time the two of them reached the top floor, Dizzy¡¯s boots were all that were visible on the ladder that led up to the secret room on the roof. She was charging ahead in reckless fashion, just to make a point.


    ¡°She could at least give us a chance to get properly intimidated,¡± said Davo as he followed the soles of her feet.


    Part of him felt like hanging back, let her have her chance. Who knew, maybe she would surprise them all. Part of him didn¡¯t want her to succeed. It would only take her away from him quicker. It was a selfish thought, and a laughably pointless one ¡ª what he wanted was of little concern to anyone, least of all her.


    When he stuck his head into the mirrored room, all he saw was the librarian, reflected off every surface. She was wearing her usual attire, with glasses perched on her long nose, watching him from every direction.


    ¡°Welcome.¡± She stepped to one side, and all the images collapsed into the one, solid version.


    ¡°Run,¡± said Fanny, his voice straining to force its way out of his throat. ¡°It¡¯s a trap.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± said Davo. ¡°I¡¯m the one who brought back reinforcements, and it¡¯s him you give warning to?¡±


    The three of them, boy, girl, boy, stood in a line, not moving.


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid there¡¯s nowhere to run to,¡± said the Librarian. ¡°For any of us. But I expect you have questions.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll answer them?¡± asked Nic, afraid she might withdraw the offer if he didn¡¯t get some kind of confirmation, preferably in writing.


    ¡°I think you deserve it. I never thought you¡¯d get this far.¡±


    ¡°He had help,¡± said Dizzy, standing next to Davo and Fanny, and not looking amused at being sidelined.


    ¡°Yes. You¡¯ve been very¡ª¡±


    ¡°Not me,¡± said Dizzy, a twinge of defiance in her voice. ¡°Your colleague. It chose him as its toy, so obviously he would make it this far. Why are you so surprised? Mascots don¡¯t need to achieve anything to appear at championship matches.¡±


    You could always count on Dizzy to be unnecessarily blunt, but also necessarily blunt.


    ¡°If my colleague had done her job properly, there would be no need for any of you to be here. The appropriation of Mr Tutt was only ever a last ditch resort. And anyone who prepares for the worst possible outcome is tempting fate.¡±


    ¡°You think of her as a she?¡± asked Nic, his academic nature hard to detach.


    ¡°I think of myself as a female, so naturally I think of her as the same. Like sisters. Such classifications are interesting for the change they can bring.¡±


    ¡°Changes?¡± said Nic. ¡°I didn¡¯t think you could change.¡±


    ¡°Didn¡¯t you? Have you heard the story of the Green Demon?¡± She held up the book of fairy tales by Winnum Roke. ¡°There¡¯s a version of it in here. But not your version.¡±


    Nic was a little taken aback. How did she know about his version?


    ¡°Each of the stories in here,¡± she continued, ¡°can change something small about you, that slowly works its way into a larger transformation. You cannot read those words and remain unchanged. How you change will depend on what it is you truly believe. You, however, remained yourself, and changed the words.¡±


    She was right, the story he had made up for the demon, to seduce it, had come from the book in the Librarian¡¯s hands. He hadn¡¯t retold it as written, he had created his own version, specifically designed to not slot together like a puzzle. His lifetime ¡ª short as that was ¡ª of reading and studying had given him an inbuilt ability to see where a line of narrative was headed. In books of all types, the writer gave away the destination well before it was in sight.


    Nic had taken a story that had a traditional structure, and broke it. He told the demon a story with no ending, at least not one he was aware of, so the demon was unable to beat him there. It would have been a problem if he hadn¡¯t been able to get there himself, arriving at an empty place with no reason to visit, but he had managed to find a satisfactory resolution. Satisfactory in the sense that the demon had not deduced what he was doing. Or maybe it had, and didn¡¯t care.


    The curious thing, though, was how the Librarian knew. It had all happened in Nic¡¯s mind while he was trapped under the Pagoda. A trap he had no recollection of escaping, but he had no time to try to piece that puzzle together.


    ¡°How do you know about that?¡± Had she been in contact with the demon inside him? Was she still? There seemed no harm in simply asking her to explain.


    ¡°A librarian¡¯s job requires them to be a good listener,¡± she said. ¡°Especially when it involves their own history.¡±


    ¡°You were the Green Demon?¡± said Nic.


    ¡°I have been many things, and yet always the same thing. Writing this book was a way for me to grow beyond that. It didn¡¯t work. For me. For you, however¡­¡±


    ¡°Didn¡¯t Winnum Roke write that book?¡± said Fanny.


    The Librarian adjusted her glasses, even though they didn¡¯t require it. ¡°It was a collaborative effort.¡±


    ¡°You heard me tell the story?¡± said Nic, more concerned about how he had been overheard. ¡°You can read my mind?¡±


    ¡°I can read hers. As well as I can hear my own thoughts. Sadly I missed the ending. I don¡¯t suppose you¡¯d like to share the denouement?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re connected,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°The two of you, you¡¯re connected right now?¡±


    Nic felt a combination of mild irritation at being interrupted, and an eagerness to know if Dizzy was right. So eager, he couldn¡¯t wait for the answer.


    ¡°You can feel where she is? Is she inside me? Did we merge? Will I lose control of my body?¡± He had meant to be calm and patient, but it was impossible to hold himself back. Which was unusual for him, normally so restrained. He glanced over at Dizzy. Had she noticed? Was she preparing to lunge?


    ¡°She has merged with you, thanks to your story. It was a fine tale, I was as captivated as she.¡± The Librarian¡¯s mouth slid into a thin smile. Appreciative more than amused. ¡°Your changes were very perceptive. Or maybe they weren¡¯t. Did you know how we crave change, the one thing denied us? To be whole, to be perfect from the start, it is a mind-numbing tedium to deal with.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t like being you?¡± asked Dizzy, her tone lightly mocking. She was starting to probe for weaknesses, but more out of habit than preparing for an attack. Or at least Nic hoped that was the case.


    ¡°Liking things is a product of change,¡± said the Librarian. "One thing differing from another, one thing better than the other. We can shape things as we wish, into the necessary shape to serve a purpose. All things are liked equally when all things are the same.¡±


    She looked at Nic. ¡°A demon capable of transforming into a being of desires¡­ Did you know? Did you guess? Was it blind luck? No, I think not. You have a gift for taking known information, and seeing something new in it. You won her over.¡±


    ¡°What does that mean?¡± asked Nic. ¡°I don¡¯t feel any different.¡±


    ¡°Why should you? You won her trust. She thinks you will change her, so now she waits for you to fulfil the promise you made.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t¡­ I don¡¯t remember making a promise.¡±


    The Librarian nodded stiffly. ¡°No. You didn¡¯t. It was a wonderful lie.¡± She sighed, a note of admiration in the breath as it left her.


    Nic wasn¡¯t sure what she meant. If he had lied, it hadn¡¯t been intentional. ¡°But what do I do now? Shouldn¡¯t I have some sort of¡­ access.¡±


    ¡°To great magic? Certainly. If I told you your body was a living flame, what would you do with it? Set fire to the library? Power is of little use without purpose. What is it you would like to do? The first mages wanted to blot out the stars. A ridiculous vanity, I thought at the time.¡± She waved an arm over her head and the mirrored walls cleared to show the empty night sky. ¡°Now, I see I was being short-sighted.¡±


    He didn¡¯t know what he wanted to do. He looked down at his hands as though there might be some sign of Arcanum gathering under the skin. They looked like his normal hands.


    If he could leave here, would he? Opening a portal for demons to pass through seemed counter-productive. And if he was capable of doing that, wouldn¡¯t the demon also have had the ability to do so. A demon was bound to be more proficient with demonic powers. He looked over at Dizzy. What would she do if she had merged with the demon in his stead. Wreaked havoc? He shuddered, preferring not to go down that road.


    ¡°You can¡¯t break down the barrier?¡± he asked.


    ¡°What makes you think I want to?¡± said the Librarian.


    ¡°To bring the others here,¡± said Dizzy, testily.


    ¡°That was her mission, not mine. And she failed spectacularly.¡±


    ¡°She failed?¡± It had a finality to it that Nic dared not count on. ¡°Completely? What about the other door.¡±


    ¡°That one is mine,¡± said the Librarian.


    ¡°I thought that wasn¡¯t your mission,¡± said Dizzy.


    ¡°Doors have more than one purpose. To let something in, and to let something out.¡±


    ¡°You want to use it to go back?¡± asked Nic.


    ¡°No.¡± It was a firm answer. ¡°Not me. You.¡±


    ¡°Me?¡± said Nic. ¡°You can just send me across?¡±


    ¡°It will take some sacrifice,¡± said the Librarian. ¡°But it isn¡¯t like they would have much longer left in any case.¡± She was looking at the other three.


    ¡°I don¡¯t like the way she¡¯s looking at me,¡± said Fanny. ¡°I knew I should have stayed with that girl. What was her name again?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be so hasty,¡± said Davo. ¡°Nic isn¡¯t going to sacrifice anyone.¡± He paused for Nic to confirm his assumption.


    Nic frowned, concentration rendering his face devoid of intent.


    ¡°Oh dear,¡± said Davo. ¡°I think the insane girl is our only hope.¡± He managed to turn his head towards Dizzy. Her whole body seemed to have gone rigid, and her eyes could have melted iron with their glare.


    ¡°How can you send me there with the barrier up and the other door in Gweur?¡± said Nic. He was leaning towards rejecting the offer, but it wouldn¡¯t hurt to explore all options.


    ¡°I think you¡¯ll do well there. They¡¯ll like you, I¡¯m sure. The All-Mother especially. No one enjoys being proven wrong like the All-Mother.¡± The Librarian¡¯s lips quivered. It was possibly the closest Nic had ever seen her to laughing. ¡°It¡¯s an opportunity few receive. And if you stay here and find yourself unable to hold on to your self-mastery¡­ well, my sister is not as warm as I. I really can¡¯t see you turning it down, if you¡¯re allowed.¡±


    ¡°Allowed by you?¡±


    ¡°Allowed by her.¡± She turned to look at Dizzy who had been watching with a face full of wordless anger.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t say I was going,¡± said Nic, annoyed with himself for sounding guilty.


    ¡°It¡¯s a trick,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°She wants you to open the way.¡±


    ¡°The way is already open,¡± said the Librarian. ¡°Your father is already there.¡±


    Dizzy reacted, but quickly brought her face back under control. ¡°Then I should go.¡±


    ¡°Yes, I thought you might say that. But it isn¡¯t you I¡¯m offering the place to. He is the only one who can go.¡±


    ¡°Why? He doesn¡¯t even want to go. He¡¯d be much happier waiting here, surrounded by books.¡±


    Nic felt a pang of guilt. He understood only too well what she was going through. Her whole life had been aimed at preparing for some kind of test. She had never voiced it, never specified the challenge, but it had been straining inside her since they were children. Like she knew something was coming. And here it was. Only, it hadn¡¯t come for her.


    But he didn¡¯t want to give it to her.


    ¡°What if I don¡¯t want to go,¡± he said.


    ¡°You do want to,¡± said the Librarian.


    ¡°Yes. But what if I decided not to?¡±


    ¡°Then¡­ you will stay with us, for as long as they choose to let us stay.¡±


    As long as they chose to let them live? That seemed to be what she was saying.


    ¡°You made the other door?¡± he asked, stalling.


    ¡°I arranged for it to be made.¡±


    ¡°To distract her father?¡±


    ¡°To distract my sister.¡±


    Nic wasn¡¯t expecting that. ¡°You wanted her to merge with me.¡± Thoughts came together in his mind. ¡°You want to send her back. With me.¡± If he took the demon with him, it would remove one problem, at least. Assuming that was what he was being offered.


    ¡°It won¡¯t be her, it will only be you. There, you will be master.¡± It sounded lonely the way she said it.


    ¡°No,¡± said Dizzy.


    Nic turned as the dagger flew towards him. He didn¡¯t have time to think, only watch as the blade closed on the space between his eyes.


    It had seemed unlikely to him that she would allow herself to be caught so easily. Her ego would never allow herself to be neutralised as easily as Fanny or Davo. How had she evaded the Librarians clutches? Nic didn¡¯t know, but he wasn¡¯t surprised. He could always count on her. At least now the decision was made for him.


    And then his body jerked of its own accord, stepping aside like it had been merely waiting for the right time to move. The air from the blade brushed across the side of his face, and flew past.


    There was a choking sound. He turned to see the dagger¡¯s hilt sticking out of the librarian¡¯s throat. She had been as taken by surprise by his sudden dodge as he had been.


    Her eyes rolled up into her head, and she fell backwards. Nic stood there, staring at the unmoving body. It can¡¯t have been that easy to kill her. He decided against going closer to check.


    Nic turned back to Dizzy, feeling it was safe to meet her gaze again, as if some moment of danger had come and gone. ¡°You knew I was going to move?¡±


    Dizzy¡¯s face gave nothing away. ¡°It works both ways.¡±


    Fanny moved towards the body lying on the ground. ¡°Is she¡­¡±


    ¡°Do you want to wait and find out?¡± said Davo.


    ¡°No, not really.¡±


    Something in the air drew Nic¡¯s attention away from them. Above them the dome cleared to reveal the sky, still a solid mass of nothing.


    ¡°True,¡± said a voice in his head. ¡°It works both ways.¡±


    He fell, into the black water. No splash, no ripple, sinking at great speed.


    ¡°Hey.¡±


    He opened his eyes, flat on his back, and looked up into a face leaning over him.


    ¡°She said you¡¯d be here, but I didn¡¯t believe her. Guess I was wrong,¡± said Simole.


    Nic blinked. The light was very bright. ¡°Who said I¡¯d be here?¡±


    Simole grabbed his hand and yanked him to his feet. It hurt his shoulder socket. ¡°Winnum Roke.¡±


    Nic stood up. ¡°Winnum Roke? She¡¯s here?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Come on, she¡¯s dying to meet you.¡±

 No TGS this week

    I mentioned this last week in my author notes, but who reads that?


    I need to sort of out my schedule so won''t be posting here this week, back next week as normal. If you want to read the next chapter, you can always go over toGravity Tales</a>or my own site,MoodyLit.com</a>,and read it there. Ch.46 is already up, Ch. 47 will be up later today.This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    If you go to my site, you can also read my other stories, including lots of shorts. No ads.


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 Chapter Forty Six

    The sky was white. It was painful to look at for more than a few seconds, the brightness of it. Nic lowered his gaze until he was watching the back of Simole¡¯s head, the hair running in a strip down her back, but cut above the shoulder on either side.


    She was already walking away from him, expecting him to follow. No discussion, no explanation. Just expectation.


    He stood where he was, trying to get his bearings. Which was very difficult when there was nothing to use as a reference point. Yellowing grass spread out in all directions.


    Simole stopped and walked back towards him part of the way. She had a small smile on her lips, like she was amused by how bemused he was. She hadn¡¯t changed much.


    ¡°Are you alright?¡± he asked, mainly because he didn¡¯t know what else to say.


    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± said Simole. ¡°Why are you here, Nic? Was it an accident?¡±


    It would have been easy to take offence at her dismissive manner. Whatever his purpose in being here, it was bound to be pointless, as far as she was concerned. The problem with taking umbrage, though, was that she was right.


    ¡°Yes, more or less. I had a slight issue with the school librarian, and it turns out she¡¯s a demon.¡±


    ¡°She turned into a demon because you were late returning one of her books?¡±


    ¡°No, she¡¯s always been a demon. She turns into a human when she doesn¡¯t want anyone to know.¡±


    Simole nodded, accepting this information as though it fit perfectly into her understanding of the way things worked. It was mildly infuriating.


    ¡°And she sent you here?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not entirely sure.¡± Nic looked around. The breeze drew ripple across the top of the grass. An occasional flower poked out between the stalks. ¡°I¡¯m not entirely sure where this is. You don¡¯t seem very surprised. I mean, about the librarian.¡±


    Simole shrugged. ¡°Demons. Once you¡¯ve seen one¡­¡± She smirked. They were in some kind of odd contest, where you tried to act as though the other person¡¯s tribulations were small potatoes, because all tribulations were.


    It was actually quite comforting to act like it was all a minor inconvenience, a little rain you had to walk through to get home.


    ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you have a dog with you?¡± asked Nic.


    The look on Simole¡¯s face lost its smug superiority for a second, replaced by one of surprise.


    Even though he didn¡¯t know what this place was, he had been here before. He had seen it from above, soaring over this field, or one like it. And he had seen Simole below him, walking along behind a dog.


    It was nice to put a little uncertainty in her eyes. Satisfying. Maybe his arrival here wasn¡¯t as hopeless as she¡¯d thought. It was hopeless, of course ¡ª there was not much he could do to get them out of here ¡ª but it was still nice for her to have a moment of doubt about it.


    A dog barked from somewhere in the grass. The stalks parted and a mutt came bounding out, tongue lolling, head bobbing on a loose spring.


    ¡°How did you know about the dog?¡±


    It was Nic¡¯s turn to smile smugly. ¡°Saw it in a dream.¡±


    ¡°You must have some strange dreams. Come on, we don¡¯t want to keep the Archmage waiting.¡±


    She turned to start walking, but the dog got between her legs, panting hard and wagging its tail in wide arcs that slapped against her thighs.


    ¡°Dana-Long, please.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s Dana-Long?¡± asked Nic, his voice full of doubt.


    ¡°Yes. It¡¯s her dog.¡±


    ¡°Are you sure?¡± He immediately regretted his tone as she shot him a dark look for questioning her. ¡°I mean, that¡¯s not how he was described in her biography. There¡¯s even a picture of him on the book of fairy tales she wrote. He was more like a¡­¡± Nic wasn¡¯t sure how to describe the breed of dog drawn on the cover of the book. He wanted to say ¡®longer.¡¯


    ¡°You can ask her yourself,¡± said Simole. ¡°He¡¯s not my dog.¡±


    Dana-Long had his front legs on Simole as he demanded pats on the head. He seemed starved of attention, which would certainly be in keeping for a pet of an archmage. They had little time for anyone, in his experience.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go, let¡¯s go,¡± said Simole. ¡°I¡¯ll answer your questions on the way. Or you can stare into the middle distance while you walk. You won¡¯t bump into anything here.¡±


    She pushed the dog off and set off, the dog bounding around her.


    It was a small, ugly pug-faced thing, suitable for a young girl. There were any number of reasons why the dog described in Winnum Roke¡¯s biography might be different to this one. Any number of reasons why his information was wrong. It still felt not right to him, though.


    He swallowed his concerns and followed.


    ¡°What have you done with my body?¡± asked Simole as they walked, her staying slightly ahead, the dog running ahead of her, stopping and looking back.


    ¡°Nothing,¡± said Nic, in unintentional guilty fashion. ¡°I mean, I think your father had it put somewhere.¡±


    ¡°Well, I hope someone did the same for yours.¡±


    Nic looked down at himself. He was dressed the same as he¡¯d been back in the library. He felt the same. But this wasn¡¯t his actual body. His lifeless corpse would be lying on the library floor.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure Davo and Fanny will take care of me,¡± he said, not sounding very confident. He wasn¡¯t sure of the situation he had left behind.


    ¡°Knowing those two, they¡¯ll probably spend more time drawing anatomically correct organs on your face.¡±


    ¡°They wouldn¡¯t do that.¡± Despite them being teenage boys, Nic was fairly sure they had more pressing things to worry about. In addition to which, neither was a big fan of art.


    ¡°If you say so,¡± said Simole.


    They walked in silence for a few minutes. It was warm and the breeze was mild. They could have been in any meadow in Ranvar, if it weren¡¯t for the empty horizon in each direction, and the empty sky above.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t say what you¡¯ve been doing since you got here,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°No,¡± said Simole. ¡°I didn¡¯t.¡±


    If it was going to be like this, life was quickly going to become very trying. And there probably wasn¡¯t much of his life left to be wasting like that.


    ¡°I thought you were going to answer my questions on the way to... wherever it is you¡¯re taking me.¡±


    ¡°You haven¡¯t asked any questions,¡± said Simole, which was true.


    ¡°What¡¯s Winnum Roke like?¡±


    ¡°Like¡­ a middle-aged woman. Actually, more like a teacher. The type who doesn¡¯t brook any nonsense, and is a spinster for good reason, even though no one knows what the reason is.¡±


    It was not the answer he¡¯d been hoping for ¡ª something to do with magic and casting spells to take them home would have been more useful ¡ª but it was still a very detailed response. He knew what she meant.


    ¡°And what about the demons? Are they here¡­ somewhere?¡± He looked around like they might sneak up on him. Although he didn¡¯t know what they¡¯d look like, which gave them something of an advantage.


    ¡°Yes, they¡¯re here.¡±


    ¡°Where?¡± asked Nic.


    ¡°Mostly, in there.¡± Simole pointed at a large black mountain that hadn¡¯t been visible a second ago. Now it dominated the skyline on his right.


    Nic stopped and stared. It didn¡¯t look real. The sides were too smooth. ¡°That isn¡¯t a mountain, is it?¡±


    Simole stopped and turned to look back at him. ¡°No. It¡¯s a ship, apparently. And we¡¯re inside it, in case you were wondering.¡±


    Nic nodded. ¡°Is the All-Mother in there?¡±


    Simole raised an eyebrow, and quickly pulled it back down again. ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Have you met her?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°She didn¡¯t kill you, then?¡± It wasn¡¯t really a question, more of a way to keep Simole talking. He wasn¡¯t quite sure why, but he had the impression she didn¡¯t trust him.


    ¡°You think I¡¯m acting weird, don¡¯t you?¡± she asked, but somehow made it into a statement.


    ¡°You are acting weird,¡± said Nic.


    Simole took a breath. ¡°You see, nothing here is real. What you see, the grass and the sky and all that, it¡¯s Arcanum. The place is full of it, everything reeks of the stuff.¡±


    Simole raised a hand and a ball of fire shot out of her palm, arching into the sky. It left a trail of smoke behind it as it disappeared into the distance. It exploded into a shower of sparks.


    Nic flinched at the noise. ¡°That won¡¯t set the grass on fire, will it?¡±


    ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter,¡± said Simole, ¡°It isn¡¯t really grass. It¡¯s formed into this shape because Archmage Roke wants it to look like... this. She¡¯s a fan of romantic cornfield scenery for some reason.¡± She waved her hand around dismissively.


    ¡°Probably because she¡¯s a middle-aged spinster,¡± said Nic, realising he was being just as dismissive, and immediately felt bad for it.


    Simole smiled with half her mouth. ¡°Yeah. Exactly.¡± She looked at Nic. ¡°Maybe it really is you.¡±


    Nic bridled a little, but did his best to not show it. Partly because he realised she had doubted he was really him, and partly because apparently being mean to old ladies proved he was the genuine article.


    ¡°Of course it¡¯s me. Who else would I be?¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t understand,¡± said Simole. ¡°You can¡¯t be sure of anything here. I don¡¯t know if it¡¯s the real Winnum Roke I¡¯m taking you to see, I don¡¯t know if this is really you, or if I¡¯m really here, or if this is the real Dana-Long.¡±


    The dog stopped at the mention of his name and tilted his head to one side, whining like he was disappointed in her.


    ¡°What?¡± said Simole to the dog. ¡°I didn¡¯t say you weren¡¯t. I just don¡¯t know for sure, that¡¯s all.¡±


    The dog turned and walked off, unimpressed.


    ¡°So I could be talking to a demon right now?¡± said Nic. ¡°I could be talking to the All-Mother, for all I know?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Simole. ¡°I could be the All-Mother and not even know it. Makes fighting the enemy a complicated proposition.¡±


    Nic could see her problem. You couldn¡¯t trust anyone here, not even yourself.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think it matters,¡± he said.


    ¡°And why is that?¡±


    ¡°This is their world. They can do what they want here, can¡¯t they? More than we can. More than I can, anyway. Why bother trying to trick us? If you¡¯re reluctant to say anything to me, holding back because you think it might give them an advantage, I don¡¯t think it would make a difference. Knowledge isn¡¯t fixed here, at least not the way it is back home. Things mean what you want them to, right? It doesn¡¯t matter what you know or think or reveal to them. You can always change it to mean something else later. It only matters what you want and what you believe.¡±


    Simole stared at him, not letting his gaze drop, holding him there, or he let her do it. ¡°It¡¯s really you, isn¡¯t it.¡± This time it was just a statement.


    ¡°Mm hm,¡± said Nic. ¡°Only, I don¡¯t think I came here alone.¡±


    ¡°No? Who did you bring?¡±


    ¡°I sort of merged with this demon. It was a bit of a desperate gambit to try and stay alive.¡±


    ¡°Oh. Things bad on the other side, then?¡±


    ¡°Sort of. The school¡¯s locked down under some kind of protective bubble. No one can get in or out, so as to stop the demons coming through the door you left behind.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think they can come through my door.¡±


    ¡°No, they can¡¯t. But the backup plan was to use me to open another one, or maybe the same one. Your father made sure that wouldn¡¯t happen, even if it means all the students die in the process.¡±


    ¡°And you made a deal with the demon to avoid doing what my father wanted? I can relate. Although, bit selfish if it ends up costing the lives of every living person back home.¡± She grinned.


    It was hard to disagree. Nic shrugged and looked at the ground. ¡°I thought I was your only way back, so I had to stay alive.¡± There was a long silence. When Nic looked back at Simole to see what she was thinking about, he was met by a red face. ¡°What?¡±Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!


    ¡°Nothing.¡± She blew some air upwards, which lifted the hair hanging over her brow. ¡°How¡¯s the girl, by the way? Okay, is she? Still got a stick up her bum?¡±


    ¡°Dizzy? Yes. I mean, yes, she¡¯s okay.¡± Nic looked back at the mountain, which was really a ship. ¡°So you¡¯ve been inside?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re inside, now.¡±


    ¡°But you went in there. To meet the demons.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Simole. ¡°It wasn¡¯t a very long meeting. Archmage Roke made them let me go.¡±


    ¡°How did she do that?¡±


    Simole turned and started walking again. ¡°Who knows? She¡¯s an archmage, she knows things. She spoke to the All-Mother, and then they let me go. Just like magic. I don¡¯t understand why they don¡¯t make her do whatever they want, to be honest. She seems to understand how to¡­ not control them, exactly¡­¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s because of the way stories change reality,¡± said Nic. ¡°I think they like it. I think that¡¯s how we took Arcanum from them in the beginning.¡±


    Simole frowned. ¡°This a theory you¡¯ve been working on?¡±


    Nic looked at the top of the grass, sweeping them away with strokes of his hands. ¡°Sort of, yes.¡±


    ¡°Well, we can test it out on the woman herself. She¡¯s in there.¡±


    Nic looked up. There was a small cottage ahead of them. The dog had gone streaking towards it, although he only had little legs.


    It was very picturesque, with a thatched roof and smoke drifting up into the white sky. It was the sort of place his mother would have liked. A middle-aged widow.


    Simole marched up to the door and opened it without knocking. ¡°Hello!¡± she called out as she disappeared inside.


    Nic followed nervously. Not because he was about to meet the great Winnum Roke, but because he didn¡¯t often visit people¡¯s homes. He wasn¡¯t very comfortable in these sorts of situations. He felt like he should have combed his hair.


    He found himself in what looked like a farmhouse kitchen. It was big, with a large fire at one end. His mother would have approved and said something complimentary.


    ¡°This is Nic,¡± said Simole. ¡°But you probably already knew that.¡± There was a surly tone to her voice, like a fed up teenager. ¡°This is Winnum.¡±


    ¡°Archmage Roke,¡± said the woman sitting at the large wooden table with tobacco and wine spread out, ready for use.


    ¡°Hello,¡± said Nic. ¡°I like your kitchen. It¡¯s very big.¡± He felt dumb and self-conscious. Heroes in books never travelled to alternate dimensions to comment on interior decorations and furnishings.


    ¡°You smell like a demon,¡± she said, throwing in a withering stare.


    ¡°Yes. Sorry. I sort of merged with one.¡±


    ¡°Are you sure?¡± The withering stare turned hard and analytical.


    He didn¡¯t think she believed him. ¡°I was poisoned. With Arcanum.¡± Her doubtful eyes remained unchanged. ¡°To make it easier to merge.¡± It sounded more and more ridiculous.


    ¡°Well, if you did merge¡± ¡ªno sincerity whatsoever¡ª ¡°it¡¯s doing a good job of staying out of sight. Must be completely dormant. Apart from the smell.¡±


    Nic had the urge to smell himself, but resisted.


    ¡°Does he always look like that?¡± said Winnum Roke, waving the lit cigarette in her hand in his direction. She wasn¡¯t as old as he¡¯d expected. Thin and angular, with a stern look. Like a teacher. One who the male teachers were nervous around. Apart from the gym teacher, who secretly harboured feelings for her, but didn¡¯t have the courage to confess them.


    Nic could feel himself smiling at his own fanciful thoughts, and then the heat in his face in case the Archmage could read minds.


    ¡°Look like what?¡± asked Simole.


    ¡°The expression of constant apology.¡± She took a drag from the cigarette that had been quietly smouldering, nestled between her fingers.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± said Nic, unable to stop himself.


    ¡°See?¡± said Winnum Roke, as she blew out a long plume of purple smoke.


    What Nic could see was that this wasn¡¯t going well. He¡¯d have to do something, say something, before they gave him a broom and told him to sweep up while they talked amongst themselves. ¡°I¡¯m Nic. Nicolav Tutt. I read your book.¡±


    Winnum Roke raised an eyebrow, allowing a modicum of curiosity to show. ¡°Yes? Which one?¡±


    ¡°Oh. Um, your autobiography. And Wink Munroe¡¯s Tales of Myth and Legend.¡±


    ¡°And what did you learn?¡± she asked him.


    Nic hadn¡¯t expected to be tested on his reading, but it was the one line of questioning he was actually prepared for.


    ¡°That demons are susceptible to a well-told lie.¡±


    There was a moment of something. She wasn¡¯t impressed, but maybe no longer as uninterested. ¡°You think it¡¯s that simple?¡± she asked. He could tell she thought it might have been a lucky guess. She really did have the makings of a teacher.


    ¡°No. I think it takes a lot of luck, unless you know what you¡¯re doing.¡±


    ¡°And you know what you¡¯re doing?¡±


    ¡°I got lucky. The school librarian felt sorry for me. She sent me here.¡±


    ¡°Not much of a kindness,¡± said Winnum Roke.


    ¡°She¡¯s a demon,¡± said Simole.


    ¡°Of course,¡± said Winnum Roke.


    Now that he had had a chance to see her, she looked less like a teacher, and more like a farmer¡¯s wife. Not the pleasant dumpy woman who stirred the pot on the stove while carrying a babe in her arms. The hardened wife whose husband died young, leaving her to run things. She wept over his grave, and then the next morning, she put on his work clothes, rolled up the sleeves so they fit, and hitched the horses to the plough.


    A woman who did the hard things because there was no one to do them for her.


    Simole was staring at him.


    ¡°What?¡± he said.


    ¡°That was good,¡± said Winnum Roke. Her hair was shorter, more practical, and she was wearing overalls.


    Nic looked around. The room was different. More austere, with hardly any decoration. His mother would not have liked it like this. She would have put that broom in his hand and told him to start at one end, while she started at the other.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°Don¡¯t be,¡± said Winnum Roke. ¡°You might do after all.¡±


    ¡°How did you do that?¡± asked Simole. She looked less than impressed, her face demanding an answer of him.


    ¡°Do what?¡± asked Nic.


    Simole glared at him, and then stomped to the doorway. Nic went to the window ¡ª which may not have been there a moment ago ¡ª and looked out.


    The sea of tall grass was gone. Instead, there was tilled earth, ready for planting. ¡°Oh,¡± said Nic, ¡°you meant that.¡± He turned to Winnum Roke. ¡°Is this how you¡¯ve kept the demons busy all this time?¡±


    She nodded, taking quick, short puffs of her cigarette, her eyes darting around like she was reading from an invisible book.


    ¡°What does that mean?¡± said Simole. ¡°What are you talking about?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s complicated,¡± said Nic.


    Simole¡¯s face screwed up in consternation. ¡°Are you being condescending towards me?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± Nic kept his eyes on her hands, ready to dodge a fireball.


    ¡°Then what would you call it?¡±


    ¡°Um, technically, I was being patronising.¡±


    ¡°The difference being? Technically.¡±


    ¡°Oh, well, condescending is an intentional attempt to act superior, while patronising is more, um, by accident.¡±


    Simole¡¯s eyes narrowed, like she was taking aim. ¡°And what do you call someone who manages to be both condescending and patronising at the same time?¡±


    ¡°Gifted?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not what I would call him.¡±


    ¡°No. I can see that.¡±


    She turned to look out of the door, and then back to him. ¡°Explain to me why you can change the shape of the world when you have no magic ability, while I can only do this.¡± She pointed at an old rocking chair in the corner that looked like it had been crafted with great care. It disintegrated into sawdust.


    ¡°I¡¯m not using magic,¡± said Nic. ¡°It¡¯s just how stories work here.¡±


    ¡°What does that mean?¡± She was becoming ever more exasperated with him. ¡°You¡¯ve only been here five minutes. How do you know how things work here?¡±


    He knew he wasn¡¯t being very clear. It was the excitement of it, the discovery of something new. It made him mildly incoherent. He paused and took a breath. He at least owed it to her to answer her questions properly.


    ¡°People think the best way to make a lie convincing is to believe it yourself. But that just means you believe it. Other people can see you¡¯re lying, they just can¡¯t get you to admit it, which doesn¡¯t really make a difference.¡±


    ¡°So, what is the best way to tell a lie?¡± asked Simole.


    ¡°You make it about something the person already believes. The lie they told themselves. Make it so you agree with them.¡±


    Simole frowned. ¡°You have to wait until they try to trick you with a lie they¡¯ve convinced themselves with? Kind of a long-term strategy, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said Nic. ¡°You can, but it¡¯s easier to just use the ones they don¡¯t know about. The ones they¡¯ve been believing forever. The girl who thinks her friends are loyal, the boy who believes his good deeds will be rewarded, the soldier who fights because his heroism will be remembered, the king who is certain his words will make his subjects love him. It can be anything, you just have to know what it is for that particular person.¡±


    Simole nodded without any sign of comprehension on her face. ¡°What has that got to do with anything?¡±


    Nic took another breath. ¡°If I tell you I went down to the beach and met a mermaid, you might think I was insane or drunk or trying to trick you. You would start off not believing me. It¡¯d be hard work to convince you otherwise. If I tell you the story of a man who went down to the shore and met a mermaid, you¡¯d listen to what I have to say without worrying if it was true or not.¡±


    ¡°Because it isn¡¯t real,¡± said Simole.


    ¡°No, it doesn¡¯t matter if it¡¯s real. Which is different.¡±


    ¡°Is it?¡± said Simole. ¡°I¡¯d forgotten what it was like talking to you. It¡¯s coming back to me now.¡± She didn¡¯t make it sound like the recollection was a fond one.


    Nic tried again. ¡°It¡¯s in our nature to estimate and predict. We extrapolate from a proposition to a conclusion, without having to be told where we¡¯re meant to go. That¡¯s what we call consciousness. Anything else is instinct. To act without thinking. If you want people to react in a certain way, you have to bypass their ability to think.¡±


    ¡°Get them to react without thinking?¡± said Simole. ¡°But that isn¡¯t necessarily a bad thing.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± agreed Nic. ¡°But it¡¯s predictable. And if you can predict something, you can prepare a response ahead of time. It¡¯s an advantage.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Simole firmly. ¡°I agree.¡±


    ¡°When you listen to a story, you think you¡¯re responding with your conscious mind, but you aren¡¯t. That¡¯s why you laugh or cry when things happen in the story that, as you say, aren¡¯t real. You don¡¯t control those reactions the way you would if you saw them happen in front of you. You don¡¯t question the motives of the people in a story, not in the same way. Which is why demons see them as more than just stories.¡±


    ¡°Mmm,¡± said Winnum Roke. ¡°You aren¡¯t quite the dolt you appear.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± said Nic with no inflection.


    ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± she continued, not paying attention to his gratitude. ¡°They like to travel to different worlds, but they don¡¯t have to if you bring them worlds here. Can you do that?¡±


    ¡°Wait, wait, wait,¡± said Simole, throwing up her hands. ¡°If I¡¯m fighting someone who¡¯s been trained to be very defensive, and I make them angry¡­ so angry that they lose their discipline, then I¡¯m accessing their instinctual behaviour rather than their conscious decision-making. That¡¯s what you¡¯re talking about?¡±


    ¡°Yes, exactly,¡± Nic slapped his hands together. ¡°Well done!¡±


    Simole¡¯s bright eyes shrank to burning coals. ¡°You¡¯re being patronising again.¡±


    ¡°Sorry,¡± said Nic, looking at Winnum Roke who would no doubt be judging him for his constant-apologist¡¯s face, making him want to apologise to her, too. It was very draining to fight against the disapproval of women. He hoped it wouldn¡¯t always be so hard. ¡°I was actually more pleased with myself, because I got you to grasp my meaning through my horribly garbled attempt at an explanation.¡±


    ¡°Now you¡¯re just being snivelling,¡± said Simole. There was no winning, sometimes.


    ¡°Enough of this,¡± said Winnum Roke. ¡°I can finally see a way out of this. You.¡± She pointed at Nic. ¡°Are you any good at putting theory into practice? You aren¡¯t one of those boys who comes over all shy when he has to speak in public, are you?¡±


    ¡°Um, no, I mean, I, er, don¡¯t¡ª¡±


    ¡°Good, good. We¡¯ll take you out and give you a turn in front of the All-Mother. How about that? See how you do with an audience.¡±


    Nic shrugged. He wasn¡¯t entirely sure what she was asking of him, but he did have a desire to see what the All-Mother looked like.


    ¡°Don¡¯t do it,¡± said Simole. ¡°She just wants you to take her place. She¡¯ll leave you here and go back without you.¡±


    ¡°Can she do that?¡± asked Nic, unsure how the exit-entry system operated in this place. He looked at the hard-bitten woman who didn¡¯t seem very magical. ¡°You¡¯ve been staying here on purpose? Do you think that was a good idea?¡±


    Winnum Roke¡¯s face soured. ¡°Are all the children in Ranvar as insolent as the two of you?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said Simole. ¡°We¡¯re gifted.¡±


    ¡°Listen,¡± said Winnum Roke. ¡°There¡¯s a chance here. Whatever¡¯s happening back in Ranvar, it will go a sight better with me there, I guarantee it. Once I sort it out, I can arrange for your return. Until then, you may be the only person capable of replacing me here.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± said Nic. ¡°That¡¯s very flattering.¡± He turned to Simole, and quickly looked away from the intense glare.


    ¡°Excellent,¡± said Winnum Roke.


    Simole shook her head. ¡°He didn¡¯t say he¡¯d do it. I didn¡¯t hear him agree to anything.¡±


    Winnum Roke looked back at Nic. ¡°You agreed to do as I said, didn¡¯t you?¡±


    Nic shook his head. ¡°No. I don¡¯t even know if you¡¯re really Winnum Roke. But I would like to meet the All-Mother.¡±


    ¡°How do you know it¡¯ll really be the All-Mother, though?¡± asked Simole. ¡°Huh, clever boy?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t,¡± said Nic. ¡°But I¡¯m an optimist.¡±


    ¡°Doesn¡¯t sound like what an optimist should hope for,¡± said Simole.


    ¡°This way,¡± said Winnum, heading for the door.


    ¡°You want to go right now?¡± asked Nic, suddenly feeling the reality of his situation. He was curious, but he was still unsure of what this place was, or how best to conduct himself. He would have liked to do some research first, although they probably didn¡¯t have many libraries here. Or any.


    ¡°No time like the present,¡± said Winnum. The dog went racing after her.


    Simole was next out, leaving Nic standing there. He was falling again, out of his depth. Blindly charging forward because it didn¡¯t matter if he failed here or a few steps over there, but it had got him to an audience with the All-Mother. At least, that¡¯s what it appeared to be. He couldn¡¯t tell for sure.


    But now what? Could he really face the most powerful of demons and come away victorious? He didn¡¯t need to study the evidence in front of him to know the answer to that question. But he was here now. It wasn¡¯t much in the way of motivation, but it was all he had. And most likely, his arrival was part of some greater plan he had no inkling of. He might as well make the best of it.


    His thoughts turned inwards, to the demon dormant within him.


    ¡°Hey,¡± said Simole, sticking her head back through the door. ¡°Come on.¡±


    He followed her out. Winnum Roke was already a fair distance away.


    ¡°Where are we going?¡± asked Nic.


    ¡°There,¡± said Simole, pointing at the black mountain.


    ¡°Inside?¡± He could feel his heart beating faster. It was all very well thinking things through, but a little mindless instinct every now and again would have been nice. It would have made the anticipation of disaster less overwhelming.


    ¡°We¡¯re already inside,¡± said Simole, knowing exactly how irritating she was being. ¡°That girl, do you think she¡¯ll come after you?¡±


    Nic hadn¡¯t even thought about Dizzy. ¡°She tried to kill me,¡± he said.


    ¡°That doesn¡¯t mean she¡¯ll let anyone else do it.¡±


    They caught up with Winnum Roke, who was standing with her arms raised, as though praising the mountain. It was still quite a way away. She was muttering under her breath and making strange gestures with her hands.


    ¡°What¡¯s she doing?¡± asked Nic.


    ¡°You¡¯ll see,¡± said Simole.


    Nic didn¡¯t want to get between the mage and the mountain, but he leaned forward to try and get a better look. ¡°Oh, I see. It isn¡¯t a rock at all.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said Simole. ¡°And those aren¡¯t stars glittering on its surface.¡±


    ¡°Where¡¯s the other one?¡± asked Nic.


    ¡°Other what?¡±


    ¡°The other wing. There should be two, shouldn¡¯t¡ª¡±


    The air around them crackled with blue light, and the mountain or wing or whatever it was, turned into an archway, only a few metres away. Nic found himself pulled inexorably through it.


    The light was blinding and his ears popped. He was inside it. Even more so than when he¡¯d been outside. Ahead of him were coloured lights in the shape of buildings, pulsing and streaking in all directions. His body felt too heavy to move.


    ¡°Here we are, then,¡± said Simole. She was standing next to him, although he hadn¡¯t noticed until she spoke.


    ¡°Where¡¯s the Archmage?¡± There was no sign of her.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± said Simole. ¡°She did the same thing last time. Never seen her and the All-Mother in the same place at the same time.¡±


    ¡°So, this time they sent a boy,¡± said a cold, emotionless voice.


    Nic looked up. The sky was full of stars. Or the ceiling was covered in lights. The roof was possibly swarming with luminescent fungi.


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Nic. ¡°They sent me. By mistake, I think.¡±


    ¡°The Archmage tells me you have a story to tell me.¡±


    Was this it? His moment to make a difference? He didn¡¯t think so. ¡°No, not really.¡±


    There was a pause. ¡°No? Then why did you come here?¡±


    ¡°I thought maybe you would tell me a story. The story of the first mage and demon. The story of the All-Father.¡±


    Simole looked at him, shocked. ¡°The All-Father?¡± She hissed at him. ¡°That¡¯s my father¡¯s dragon.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said Nic. ¡°I don¡¯t think he is.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said the All-Mother. ¡°I will tell you.¡±

 Chapter Forty Seven

    Major Yagare stood at the edge of the hole and looked down. It was a hot day, and the sun was at its highest point, casting no shadows. The chasm was a circular tear in the earth, refusing to yield to the sunlight.


    The walls were smooth and unmarked, save for the stairs running down them in corkscrew-fashion.


    ¡°My father used to say the deeper the well the cooler the water,¡± said Pastor Chesinghe, ¡°but the deeper you travel down here, the closer to hell you get. He was the pastor here before me.¡±


    ¡°How far down did he go?¡± asked Yagare.


    ¡°All the way.¡±


    Yagare nodded. The clerics that served as guides here had a tradition of eventually taking the journey to the bottom no one had ever returned from.


    ¡°If you don¡¯t mind me asking,¡± said the pastor, ¡°you¡¯ll be in charge of the garrison permanently?¡±


    Yagare turned away from the hole and looked at the small, round-bellied man in his simple peasant¡¯s clothes. They were well made, ideal for the rugged wilderness, not rags he was forced to wear. A learned man who, unlike him, had chosen to live in the middle of this wasteland. A learned man who carried a spiked mace hanging from his belt.


    ¡°Yes,¡± he said. ¡°It is both my honour and penance.¡± He looked over the pastor¡¯s head at the fort on the hill. Two hundred men to guard against the coming of whatever might be waiting to emerge from a bottomless pit. Poorly trained and lacking in discipline. His to command, if he could manage it.


    ¡°I did hear something about that,¡± said the pastor. He wiped the top of his bald head with the cuff of his brown woollen sleeve. His face went slack for a moment, a look of regret, possibly for not having remembered a hat. ¡°I know it¡¯s not polite to indulge in gossip, but it¡¯s hard to resist when there¡¯s little else to do.¡±


    It wasn¡¯t hard to accept the apology, even before knowing what it was referring to. The arid landscape in every direction more than justified the excuse. Nothing to do, no one to talk to, no one to fight with. Out here, the borders were vaguely drawn, and the hill people kept to themselves. Gossip was at a premium.


    ¡°There¡¯s no need to feel shy about asking, Pastor,¡± he said. ¡°I can confirm that anything other than the most scurrilous slander is probably true. I am your classic example of a shining star brought low by its own hubris. A tragic end to a glittering career.¡± He smiled ruefully, and twitched his nose as his moustache hairs prickled his nostrils. He was getting lazy with his grooming, a sure sign of a man¡¯s downfall.


    ¡°If you ever care to talk about it, I would gladly lend you an ear. Confidentially, of course. My oath is somewhat distant in my memory, but it still holds.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Pastor. I¡¯m sure there will come a time when I will wish to avail myself of your services.¡±


    He spoke out of politeness, but maybe what he said was true. First the desire to shave, then the desire to hold onto his pride.


    It wasn¡¯t a particularly exciting tale. Certainly not worth destroying a career for. He had been sent to observe and report on a group of farmers who had combined forces to form a militia. They wished to claim independence for their minuscule holdings up in the highlands. More like they wished to no longer pay taxes to a monarchy they rejected as undeserving of the fruits of their labour.


    Observe and report. Such a dull mission. He had a whole troop with him. Forty well-trained rangers, capable of killing a dozen peasants each. He had decided, in his infinitely reckless wisdom, that he would show some initiative. It was the sort of thing the higher-ups appreciated. When it was successful.


    He hadn¡¯t expected them to be so well organised. He hadn¡¯t expected them to be so well prepared. And he most certainly hadn¡¯t expected flaming oil from the air.


    They had one of those men among them who liked to come up with brilliant ideas. New ways to approach an old problem. You would sometimes find one of those men among the new recruits. A man who had a better way to tie a knot on his backpack, the way his father did it on his fishing boat.


    It would have to be beaten into such a man that innovation was not what the quality he had been recruited for. Outside expertise was not desired or to be encouraged. But the farmers clearly thought otherwise.


    He still should have won. He knew it had been he who had handed them victory. His men knew it, too. That was the bitterest part of it.


    It wasn¡¯t all that clever. Kites carrying wax pots with burning oil. It took some smart calculating to time it right, so that the wax pots melted at the correct devastating moment. And some skill to fly the kites, which it turned out was something the local shepherds used in the managing of their flocks.


    But it had been he, not some green recruit, who had been stunned by their appearance, failing to give commands when it was vital to do so. Large, colourful shapes with streaming tails. His mind had reverted to that of a child, or so it had felt. Tales of dragons breathing fire. Silly stories to make a boy want to be a knight, to fight creatures that didn¡¯t exist.


    And suddenly here they were, flying over him, spewing tongues of fire.


    Mayhem ensued. By the time he¡¯d gathered his wits, what was left of them, a third of the company were dead, most of the others had fled in panic.


    It wasn¡¯t a catastrophic failure for the empire. Another, larger troop was sent out, and laid waste to the farmers. It took less than a day to reduce their fields to burning stubble, along with their fanciful dreams of independence.


    Yagare¡¯s crime was far worse than his clumsy insubordination. He had embarrassed himself, and the empire. Neither would be suffered, but to admonish him publicly would be to publicise the defeat of the empire¡¯s forces by a slovenly rabble.


    Yagare was promoted instead, and sent here, the farthest nook of the empire. A place he had thought as fictional as dragons. Everyone knew, of course. It was not a promotion, it was exile. He had lost to peasants. The humiliation was far preferable to admitting what had really made him take leave of his senses.


    ¡°I have read about this place in books,¡± he said to the pastor. ¡°It never felt like it really existed.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I imagine much of what¡¯s been written isn¡¯t very accurate, but as you can see for yourself, the rift very much exists. And some of what¡¯s been written, although hard to believe, is also true.¡±


    ¡°Magic and monsters?¡± said Yagare with a smile that made his nose itch.


    ¡°Well, it depends on your definition of both. I can¡¯t say I¡¯ve seen either, but there¡¯s a history of strange happenings down there. And the one you¡¯ve no doubt heard most often is entirely true. No one has ever returned from below the third tier.¡±


    Exploration had gone down in three stages, and the fourth had never been completed. No one ever came back to explain why.


    ¡°Do you know why?¡± Yagare asked the pastor.


    ¡°No one knows.¡±


    ¡°But you don¡¯t have a theory?¡±


    He was more than the resident cleric. He was a scholar. A rift expert. Ever since the chasm had been abandoned as a site of importance, a single member of the church was stationed to watch over the great rip in the land. To watch, to study, to wait¡­


    Yagare had done some research once he had been given the posting ¡ª might as well fake some degree of competence in this early twilight of his career ¡ª and knew the rough history. Knew the place had been considered a site of religious significance once. Still was, to some degree, but no one understood what it was or why it was here.


    They had done their best to find an answer, but the chasm swallowed those sent to investigate it. How else were they to discover its secrets?


    ¡°Oh, well, I have some ideas knocking about, but nothing I¡¯d be willing to share. Not while I¡¯m sober, in any case. There are quite a lot of stories among the local folk.¡±


    The indigenous population, the hill people, were little more than savages, really, who eked out a meagre living hunting and fishing. They had no settlements to speak of, no structures bigger than a hut.


    ¡°Do any of them bear scrutiny?¡± Yagare asked, looking down into the depths again.


    ¡°Not really,¡± said the pastor. ¡°They say if you stare into it for too long, you go mad.¡±


    Yagare pulled his gaze away, even though he knew he was being teased. ¡°Anything else?¡±


    ¡°Demons who grant wishes and that sort of thing.¡± He grinned mischievously. The church wouldn¡¯t approve of such talk, but the pastor didn¡¯t seem to care.


    And why should he, out here in the farthest reaches? They could hardly punish him by sending him somewhere more desolate. Yagare realised the same was true for him. There was a sense of freedom that came with exile.


    ¡°Any story that explains how this place suddenly appeared one day?¡±


    The pastor nodded. ¡°Many. Perhaps you would like to hear about the demon who travels between worlds? It begins with a lost spirit¡ª¡±


    ***


    ¡°Wait,¡± said Nic. ¡°Are you going to go into another story?¡±


    There was silence from above him. The multitude of stars, or whatever they were, twinkled knowingly. He aimed his question at the brightest of them.


    ¡°I thought you were going to tell me about the first mage.¡±


    More silence. It had a quality to it, though. It was saying that this was the story he had been promised, in all its meandering detail. Nic didn¡¯t particularly want to sit through the long version. He certainly didn¡¯t want to stand through it.


    ¡°Unless one of those two is the mage. I could see Yagare making a wild and reckless attempt at wrestling a demon into submission. And Pastor Chesinghe could be a collector of arcane knowledge. But this place they¡¯re at, I don¡¯t think it¡¯s in Ranvar, is it?¡±


    Silence.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think it¡¯s the tribal lands that went on to become Ranvar later, either. Dorasham and Gilveday and all those little provinces, not those places, right? It feels like it happened further out. Grissenheim?¡±


    Grissenheim was the country Denkne came from. The names, Yagare and Chesinghe, they had a Grissenheim quality to them. But Grissenheim was a relatively new nation.


    ¡°Or the place before Grissenheim. They had an empire, I think. The Gorretian Empire?¡±


    More silence, but something in the twinkle of the stars told him he was correct. Somewhere in the old Gorretian Empire, a shaft between dimensions had appeared. Which meant the first mage wasn¡¯t from Ranvar. Or Dorasham or Gilveday.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± asked Simole. ¡°You force me to listen to the enthralling tale of two men standing over a hole, and just when the All-Mother was about to reveal the secret of the first mage, and you interrupt her.¡± She sounded dismayed at his poor timing.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think so,¡± said Nic. ¡°She would have led us into another story, and then another, and another. It¡¯s a fairly obvious tactic. We would have learned something, I¡¯m sure, but we would also be lulled into a never-ending cycle of stories.¡±


    ¡°And why would she do that?¡±


    It was a good question. ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±


    ¡°Do you think you have some special ability now that you have a demon in you? Some ability to see through waffle?¡±


    It didn¡¯t sound like a particularly desirable ability to have, especially the way Simole was presenting it.


    ¡°No, I don¡¯t really feel any different. It just¡­ I don¡¯t know, it just felt like she was guiding the story away from where it was meant to go.¡±


    Simole was looking at him like he was an idiot. He looked up to see if the stars were looking at him the same way. They twinkled, but they were trying too hard. He was right.


    ¡°If you make the story too long, it becomes obvious you¡¯re trying to change the perception of what it means. You aren¡¯t good enough to do that without me noticing.¡±


    ¡°Do you think it¡¯s a good idea to talk like that?¡± said Simole, aghast.


    ¡°Like what?¡± he said, looking back at her.


    ¡°You don¡¯t think that was a bit rude?¡±


    ¡°Was it? Sorry. I didn¡¯t mean to be rude. I was being direct. Demons prefer directness. I think.¡±


    ¡°Great. Just bear in mind that my magic doesn¡¯t work in here. If you upset the All-Mother, I won¡¯t be able to save you.¡±


    ¡°Alright,¡± said Nic.


    She stared at him. ¡°Why aren¡¯t you scared? You don¡¯t look scared.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t look scared, either.¡±


    ¡°Yes, but I¡¯m me. I can do amazing things. I have no reason to be afraid. You, on the other hand, are you.¡±If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.


    She looked at him like this made perfect sense. Unfortunately, he had to admit, it did. But there was no reason for her to look so pleased about it.


    ¡°But your magic doesn¡¯t work in here,¡± he pointed out.


    ¡°Their need to suppress my abilities tells me all I need to know.¡±


    It was an odd kind of logic, but she was right. If they had to keep her from her using her power, that suggested they considered her a threat. Good to know.


    ¡°It wouldn¡¯t do much good, though, would it?¡± he said. ¡°Being scared, I mean.¡±


    ¡°Yes, but that¡¯s always true. It never does any good, but people who are beyond the limits of what they can cope with aren¡¯t able to help it. I think you¡¯ve reached that limit, but you don¡¯t seem frightened, at all. Are you telling me this isn¡¯t the demon, either?¡±


    She was suspicious of how he was acting, and with good reason. Her points were dead on. Any normal person ¡ª and he was clearly that in this company ¡ª would be shaking from terror. But not he.


    ¡°But it wouldn¡¯t do any good. Whether or not my body wants to panic, I believe that it would serve no purpose. And here, belief is everything.¡±


    Simole¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°Are you saying you just have to believe fear is useless, and it vanishes like magic? If you can do that, I should be able to, as well. And better.¡±


    ¡°But you already aren¡¯t scared.¡±


    ¡°No, but I could try something else.¡± She stared at him, grimacing.


    ¡°Are you okay?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m focusing,¡± she said through gritted teeth.


    ¡°On what?¡±


    ¡°Happiness is preferable to anger.¡± She didn¡¯t look particularly happy. Actually, she looked even angrier than usual.


    ¡°But I actually believe fear is useless,¡± Nic said.


    Simole relaxed and her shoulders dropped. ¡°Maybe I¡¯ll try again later.¡± She nodded upwards.


    Nic turned his attention to the crowded sky. The All-Mother hadn¡¯t said anything while they¡¯d been bickering. Perhaps she found it interesting to hear them discuss such matters, as unlikely as it seemed. Perhaps there was something else.


    ¡°Sorry. Please continue. Only¡­ you can skip the parts that explain the past. Just what happened is fine.¡±


    ***


    Yagare looked over the edge and wondered how many people had dropped coins or thrown stones down there. It didn¡¯t seem very magical compared to other natural marvels he had seen, the waterfalls, autumnal forests and snow-peaked mountains. Weeds grew in clumps all along the lip of the shaft. Beyond that was grey walls. The sunlight, where it reached, showed dark streaks that shifted, making it look like the walls moved, like they breathed.


    ¡°I would like to go down there,¡± he said.


    ¡°Of course,¡± said the pastor. ¡°Everyone does. They want it to live up to their expectations.¡±


    ¡°Will it?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said the pastor. ¡°Nothing ever does.¡±


    There was a large chest next to where the stairs began. It looked like a casket recently dug up, battered and heavily weathered. Inside were bits of wood and coils of rope. Chesinghe took out a torch and lit it. The flame was barely visible in the daylight.


    The pastor went first, down the steps that had been cut into the rock wall. Dust and pebbles covered the steps, making it easy to lose your footing. There was no railing to hold.


    The steps went down in a spiral, going all the way around the walls in a gentle decline. Marks and cuts had been chipped into the rock. Names and numbers that meant nothing to Yagare, faded by time and weather into illegibility. People had once wanted to be remembered for daring to enter this place.


    A hundred or so steps later they reached the first landing. It was a small plateau you might fit a tent onto. Nothing seemed very remarkable about it. Yagare looked up at a sky with a few wispy clouds. The steps continued from the far end.


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid it hasn¡¯t been kept in the cleanest of conditions,¡± said the pastor. ¡°Debris and detritus tend to collect on anything horizontal.¡±


    The second landing smelled vaguely of urine.


    ¡°It¡¯s not so bad further down,¡± Chesinghe assured him. ¡°The soldiers don¡¯t like to go beyond this point. Up to here, for a bet or a dare, is acceptable. Any lower¡­ well, you¡¯ll see what I mean.¡±


    They pushed on. Yagare wanted to see for himself. He knew nothing of note had ever occurred above the third tier. Below was where things happened.


    The deeper they went, the more the mystical nature of the place was overwhelmed by the sheer lack of safety. Yagare placed a hand on the wall to steady himself, and the warmth was unsettling. It was like touching skin.


    He stopped looking over the side into nothingness or up at the retracting sky, and focused on the toes of his boots in the ever-deepening gloom. Shadows from the torch flickered and made his feet disappear and reappear.


    Yagare recalled what he had read about the heat and lack of breathable air. He hadn¡¯t brought water, and his clothes were tight and restrictive. He¡¯d read looking for instruction, and ignored all that he¡¯d found. He was sweating and panting by the time they reached the third landing.


    Chesinghe placed the torch in a sconce and opened a small chest and took out a bottle of brandy. He poured it into small wooden tumblers and handed Yagare one.


    ¡°Not standard army rations,¡± Yagare noted after taking a sip and wincing.


    ¡°No. I put it down here for my own pleasure. Sometimes I come here and sit with this¡­¡± He spread his arms out wide.


    It took a moment for Yagare to feel it. The presence.


    He had thought if he came down here, he would find meaning to what had happened to him. He wanted to believe he had fallen for a reason, to be sent here, to be in the right place to do something important. But now he was on the edge of what was known, he only felt alone. The presence surrounding him was the feeling of utter futility.


    He felt the walls draw away from him on all sides, and the platform seemed to shrink to the merest speck, barely enough to support his weight. The sky seemed an infinite distance away, and the darkness below was depthless and absolute.


    There were more steps leading down, but they wouldn¡¯t lead to any answers. No one came back. Why not? Was what was down there so heavenly no one could bear to leave it? Or so ghastly it couldn¡¯t be escaped? Paradise or death?


    ¡°Have you been tempted?¡± asked Yagare.


    Chesinghe nodded. ¡°One day I will continue the journey. We all shall.¡±


    ¡°Who built these steps?¡± The steps continuing downwards looked no different to the ones above.


    ¡°No one,¡± said Chesinghe. ¡°No one built any of them. They were here from the start.¡±


    It hadn¡¯t mentioned that in any of the books. A natural phenomenon with a built-in staircase? That seemed very unlikely.


    But did you really need stairs? You could simply take a step to the side and fall into it forever. Perhaps that¡¯s where the others had gone. Perhaps they were still falling.


    ¡°This is where you make your wish,¡± said Chesinghe.


    Yagare frowned. ¡°What wish?¡±


    ¡°The wish of a man who can reshape the world to suit him, if he believes in his vision.¡±


    Chesinghe seemed different now. No longer tired, no longer small or fat. Yagare hardly recognised him, but he was too taken with the question. What would he wish for? A children¡¯s game. A childish answer occurred to him.


    ¡°I¡¯d wish for dragons to exist.¡±


    ¡°What,¡± said Chesinghe, ¡°is a dragon?¡±


    For a moment, Yagare thought he was joking. He looked like the little holy man again, his transformation a trick of the light. His face was curious.


    ¡°A beast with wings. A fortress that can fly. A hellspawned lizard that can destroy all in its path.¡±


    Chesinghe seemed even smaller. He stared intently ahead, frowning. His jaw worked slightly, and Yagare wondered what he was saying to himself. Then he looked at Yagare, his eyes liquid and trembling.


    ¡°My world is a dragon,¡± he said sadly.


    Yagare remembered the kites appearing overhead. He had been so astonished, so delighted. His men¡¯s death has seemed trivial compared to such a monumental discovery. How different his life would have been if it had turned out to be true.


    ¡°I think this world would be a better place with dragons in it.¡± And he believed it.


    But dragons did not exist, had never existed. For them to be brought into creation required a power as great as Chesinghe could possibly muster. For he had been the guardian of the chasm since its inception. He had taken on the guise of pastor and his own replacement in a series of deft substitutions, waiting for someone he could use to provide him a way back home. And he had finally found him, and lost himself in the same moment.


    ***


    ¡°Yes, I see,¡± said Nic. ¡°Thank you for telling me the story.¡±


    ¡°What are you talking about?¡± squealed Simole. ¡°She hasn¡¯t finished yet.¡±


    ¡°But it¡¯s obvious how it ends, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°No! It isn¡¯t. How does it end?¡±


    ¡°Chesinghe is the All-Father, he¡¯s forced into becoming a dragon, Yagare becomes a mage somehow or other, it isn¡¯t really important.¡±


    ¡°It isn¡¯t really important? Are you crazy? Wait. Are you saying the All-Father is my All-Father?¡±


    ¡°Yes, of course. He¡¯s forgotten himself, thinks he¡¯s a dragon, but it¡¯s him. Right?¡± He looked up at the stars and was met by a profound silence. ¡°See?¡±


    Simole looked up as well. ¡°I didn¡¯t hear anything.¡±


    ¡°Didn¡¯t you? I¡¯m sure she agreed with me. Right?¡± Silence. ¡°See? The All-Father made a mistake. He made many, actually. His whole plan was very weak. Build a door, and then wait for the right person to come along, eventually? Terrible.¡±


    ¡°He did, though,¡± said Simole. ¡°Eventually.¡±


    ¡°Yes, but there¡¯s a great deal left to be desired in that method.¡± Nic looked up again. ¡°You¡¯ve come a long way since then. Great improvements. You really learned from his mistakes.¡±


    ¡°What mistakes?¡± asked Simole.


    ¡°Not a mistake, more like a lack of planning. It¡¯s like if a man finds out his wife is cheating, and kills her lover. If I wanted the lover dead, and I find out about the affair, I can tell the husband, and let him take care of it for me. But I¡¯m relying on a lot of things working in my favour. They have to have the affair, I have to find out about it, the husband has to be willing to commit murder¡­ it¡¯s a very poor way to go about it.¡±


    ¡°So you should kill the lover yourself?¡± said Simole.


    ¡°No, you¡¯d get caught and put in prison. You have to arrange for the lover to meet the wife. You have to prime the husband to be enraged by jealousy. You have to create the conditions that you require.¡±


    ¡°And how would you do all that?¡±


    ¡°Not so hard, if you know what kind of man the lover is, what kind of woman he¡¯s attracted to. You just have to hope they don¡¯t tire of each other before you can get the husband seething with rage at fickle women. Shouldn¡¯t take long.¡±


    ¡°And this relates to demons and dragons, how?¡±


    ¡°The demons came to bring their All-Father home. Only they found him as a dragon who attacked them. So they had no choice but to teach us magic.¡±


    Simole threw her hand up. ¡°How does that make any sense? They failed to defeat us because we had their great leader, so they shared their power? Where are you even going with this? I thought you were all about getting to the point quickly. This is as bad as¡­¡± She looked at him, stunned, finally understanding. ¡°Explain to me how teaching your enemy magic is a good idea?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m glad you asked. They taught us magic, but gave us Arcanum to do it. They couldn¡¯t defeat us, but they could slowly poison us. Once we were weak enough, soaked in Arcanum, they could¡ª¡±


    ¡°Possess us,¡± said Simole. ¡°Like they did with you! But why wait so long? It¡¯s been over a thousand years.¡±


    ¡°Because we protected ourselves. Managed the poisoning. The Royal College found a way to minimise the effects so by the time it took hold, the mage was old and weak anyway. They needed someone outside the college. They needed someone capable of taking on mages, including the Archmage, and anyone prepared to deal with him would have a way to deal with his dragon. They never wanted me to be their puppet. They wanted Minister Delcroix. They wanted Dizzy¡¯s father.¡±


    ¡°Then why are you here?¡± asked Simole.


    ¡°Good question.¡± He turned his face upwards. ¡°Why am I here? Shall I tell you? Do you wish to know the story?¡±


    He glanced over. Simole grinned. She had done beautifully. She had picked up on what he was doing, and had done a grand job of aiding and abetting.


    The All-Mother had tried to tie him up in stories that spiralled into other stories and other stories. It only seemed right that she would only do that because such stories had the power to captivate here. And if it worked for her, it would work on her.


    Nic had started by rambling on about the different nations around Ranvar and their forebears. He had worked that into the nature of fear and belief, and then he pulled the story of the dragon-dreaming major into one about a cheating wife, and then demons attacking their own father.


    Simole had egged him on and given him cues to jump from one tale to another, acting confused and enraged in turn, and that was even before she realised his plan. And along the way he had started to understand. The Minister was ill, his daughter had caused it, or been made to cause it. He was in a weak state, and if they possessed him, they possessed everything he was capable of, including taking down mages, including taking down dragons.


    But how would they possess him? After failing so many times, they needed a better understanding of how humans worked. They left behind a demon. To spend time with the humans, to study them. And then they needed someone to bring it back.


    An empty vessel with no magic ability. A courier to deliver a package.


    It made sense now. His role, so pivotal, his presence so trivial. It all made sense. The only thing left was to hope Simole figured out why he was trying to keep the All-Mother preoccupied.


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t make sense,¡± said Simole. ¡°You said they learned from their mistakes. From the All-Father¡¯s mistakes. You can¡¯t wait for the right person to come along, you have to arrange it.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Nic. Was she trying to take over from him?


    ¡°So how did you end up here, Nic? Did they hope you¡¯d follow that girl all the way to the most exclusive school in the country? Bit of a long shot, no?¡±


    She was right. He didn¡¯t just stumble into this. There was no way they just happened to find him convenient to use. They had to have arranged his presence at Ransom.


    But his only reason was Dizzy.


    Wasn¡¯t it?


    Wanting to see her, wanting to be near her, that was his deepest desire.


    Wasn¡¯t it?


    ¡°They¡¯re still guiding you, Nic. Even now. Or were you hoping if you believed this nonsense, it would come true? You save the world, you get the girl?¡±


    Suddenly, the threads spinning around him like a shield began to drop away. He looked at Simole. What had she done? Why was she turning on him, ruining everything? He felt like his legs had been taken out from under him. He felt exposed. He was part of this. The courier to bring the demon needed to be set on his path early.


    It didn¡¯t matter. The reason he had been used was irrelevant. The method they¡¯d used could have been anything. His feelings for Dizzy were as real as if they¡¯d been his own. He desperately didn¡¯t want to succumb to despair, not in front of demons, not in front of Simole.


    She had shown him a brutal, painful truth, and by doing so, she would prevent it being used against him. She was right to do it. He forced his mind back to the task at hand. The way to stop them wasn¡¯t to hide himself, or keep them from what they wanted. It was to give it to them. In buckets. More information than they could handle. Endless, interweaving streams of it. And if there was one thing Nic truly excelled at, it was providing people with the answers they were looking for. That would give Simole her chance.


    ¡°I see why you need me now,¡± he said, preparing to tell them in a hundred different ways. ¡°You¡ª¡± was as far as he got.


    You never fail to surprise me, said the voice in his head. So ready to attack when you have no weapon, and no chance of success.


    He couldn¡¯t feel his legs, but he was still standing. She had never merged with him, he realised. She had just been waiting. For the Minister, probably. Ready to leap out and catch him unawares. Now that Nic was something of a threat, albeit a minor one, she had emerged to take back control.


    You did well, brave little one. I can feel your heart breaking. I will take your pain away.


    It rose up his body. He lost control of every part in a surge rising up and up, rushing to claim his mind, to his chest, to his neck and then¡­ it stopped.


    He couldn¡¯t breathe. He was lifting off the ground, his toes barely touching the floor, choking, gasping, his throat pinched closed, allowing no passage.


    Simole had her arm extended, blue light crackling around her closed fist. He could feel it around his throat, even though she wasn¡¯t touching him. He tried to tell himself this wasn¡¯t his real body, he didn¡¯t need air, but it didn¡¯t seem to help.


    ¡°Hello,¡± said Simole. ¡°I¡¯ve been waiting for you to turn up.¡±


    Nic felt a change within himself. The surge of power washing through him had turned cold.


    ¡°I think you fail to realise who your true opponent is,¡± said Simole, her eyes ablaze with fury and her lips curled into a sneer. ¡°You may consider the All-Father to be both your greatest leader and your greatest enemy, but to me, he is my pet. Now, why don¡¯t you join your sisters in the stars? Your attempted ambush will not be happening, so take this opportunity to flee, before I rip you out of there, and feed you to my dragon.¡±


    The force on his throat grew more intense. His face felt like it was cracking. Simole had regained her power, claimed it back while Nic kept the All-Mother entranced. Now she could do what she has been trained to do. He hoped she wouldn¡¯t kill him first.

 Chapter Forty Eight

    It was the dog. The dog wasn¡¯t right.


    Nic couldn¡¯t breathe, he couldn¡¯t move. Simole had regained her powers, and was using them to squeeze his throat shut. She was doing an excellent job.


    He could feel the demon inside of him. It had been hiding, waiting. But not for this. Simole¡¯s attack had been an irritation. He might not have been merged with the demon as he¡¯d been led to believe ¡ª led to believe, ha! That was almost funny ¡ª but he was close enough to feel the change in attitude, the shift in tone.


    He had done what he could, the rest was up to her.


    ¡°You don¡¯t seem to be taking me seriously,¡± said Simole. The grip tightened inexorably around Nic¡¯s neck, making his blood pound in his ears.


    He would have told the demon that taking Simole seriously would be wise, if he thought it would do any good. But he didn¡¯t think the demon was in the mood to take advice. He was more or less a bystander at this point.


    He wanted to pay attention to what was happening ¡ª it affected him quite directly, after all ¡ª but his thoughts kept falling back onto Winnum Roke. More specifically, her dog. Dana-Long.


    She had turned the dog into a popular children¡¯s story. A creature that came in the night to steal children from their beds. A fearsome beast.


    The pug he¡¯d met out in the field had not been very frightening.


    There could be any number of reasons for the discrepancy. Fairy tales weren¡¯t meant to be taken literally. And yet¡­


    He had also read Winnum Roke¡¯s autobiography. She had described the dog in there, too. It was similar to the one in the fairy tale; long-limbed, wolfish, a big animal that lived on a farm. A working dog.


    The pug didn¡¯t fit the description at all.


    Why would it be different? If it wasn¡¯t her creation, maybe it wasn¡¯t really her. Maybe the woman in the cottage was a manifestation produced by the All-Mother. But would she get the dog wrong? Demons seemed to be sticklers for detail. They had access to the same texts he had. They probably knew Winnum Roke personally. Maybe even knew the dog.


    And if it was Winnum Roke, if the woman he¡¯d met was truly the Archmage of the Royal College transported here to prevent the demons from crossing back over, why would she change her dog?


    The part of his mind that was always working on something, even when he was busy with other matters, was turning over. It made it hard to stay focused on Simole. That¡¯s where the real battle was happening. It would all be academic if she failed to defeat the demons.


    All academic. That was almost funny, too. When had his life been anything else?


    When he¡¯d been with Dizzy, that was the only time. His life was all action, back then. She never stopped. He never managed to catch up, except when she let him. Had that all been part of the plan?


    He found it hard to believe, but then that why it was the perfect thing to use against him. The right tactical choice. Something that was already there in seed form, just water it a bit. He wanted to believe that¡¯s what it was. It wasn¡¯t placed in him, it was there all along, just intensified for the cause.


    But wanting to believe was irrelevant. It was what it was. His only recourse was to not find out the truth. Or to make a better one.


    Why him, though?


    If they wanted him here, it had to be for some reason. The demons didn¡¯t try things for the sake of it. They didn¡¯t act without reason.


    And what about Simole? Had she forced her way in, or was she meant to be here, too? If she had been tricked, if this was also part of the plan, there was no point trying to think of another solution. She was it. There was no other way to stop the All-Mother.


    He realised he wasn¡¯t struggling to breathe any longer. He had no body here. He didn¡¯t need air. Simole wasn¡¯t constricting his airways, she was restricting the demon from taking over his consciousness.


    It was a nice gesture, but futile. It wasn¡¯t him they wanted. And they would soon refocus on taking away her power. His had been a temporary solution to their power over her. He thought she might have a chance to attack the All-Mother directly, but it¡¯s hard to fight the stars. They¡¯re so very far away.


    Nic felt like he was moving. Like he was being pushed. Down. Or in. He wasn¡¯t sure. Away. Yes, he was being pushed away. His presence was no longer needed. Not even inside his own body.


    But it wasn¡¯t his body. There wasn¡¯t a body, so what was he being separated from?


    The dog, the silly dog. It bothered him. Usually, once a test was over, he didn¡¯t dwell on the answers he had given. He¡¯d done his best, and now there was no way to change anything, so why waste energy on fretting?


    Was I right? Was I wrong? It made no difference to the mark he¡¯d get.


    But why change the dog? If it was still nagging at him, it suggested the test wasn¡¯t over. Or that he was losing his mind and needed something to cling to. But if that were true, he was already lost, so no point thinking it.


    The lights around him began to fade. It looked like a crystal city, blurred through a window. The less clear, the more it glittered: domes and towers lit up by coloured lights. Balconies suspended in the air, bridges spanning gaps. Once, it had probably teemed with activity. Now it softly faded from view.


    Further in, further down. It was dark. He couldn¡¯t see, or was there nothing to see? Was there a difference? Being blind and inhabiting a place with no light amounted to the same thing.


    He heard a sound. A sniffing, whining. Animal. Whimpering, scrabbling. It sounded like a dog. A trick? A trap? He didn¡¯t really care. He would have followed it just for something to do.


    So he moved, untethered as he was to the physical world. Disembodied, he could float, a sense of movement under him, the darkness a black ocean. His body grew heavier, the movement more difficult.


    He stretched out his arms and felt walls on either side, a roof within reach above him, a floor covered in grit and dirt. It was like he was somewhere deep underground, in a tunnel, a vaguely roundish passage. The walls were smooth, but somewhat slimy. He didn¡¯t really want to think about why that was. It seemed to be sloping downwards, into the belly of the beast. He didn¡¯t want to think about where he was, but it was impossible not to consider the most awful options.


    Slowly, he edged forward into the dark, straining to hear. The tunnel went on for some time, sloping down, perhaps switching back, he couldn¡¯t be sure. He tried to conjure a light, force it into existence, but either it wasn¡¯t possible here, or he just didn¡¯t understand how to do it. Or maybe he didn¡¯t want to attract the attention of whatever else was here. A simple compulsion kept him moving forward.


    He lost his footing, fell down a steep incline, taking him deeper, lower. He rolled to a stop, the darkness far more confusing than any illusion. He heard a muffled bark. He rose to his feet, he was in a larger chamber, he could sense the space above him, the lack of walls.


    The sound had come from his left. He tottered that way, expecting to fall again, maybe a hole or a pit he couldn¡¯t escape from. Instead, he found another tunnel gouged out of the wall. Smaller. He had to get down on his hands and knees and crawl. He would have looked for another way, a less constricting passage, but there was a soft glow ahead of him. A light.


    He scrambled forward, and suddenly there was nothing under him. He fell, again. Landed hard, slamming his face into the ground. It hurt, even when he tried to convince himself it wasn¡¯t real pain. It felt the same as real pain, so that made it real enough.


    When he raised his head, he saw someone. A woman in dirty clothes and dirty face. Winnum Roke, he knew at once, but not as he¡¯d seen her before. Not sharp and lean, a powerful entity. This Winnum Roke looked weak and broken. She was chained to the wall, hands raised over her head and pinned there. A light hovered over her, flickering slightly.


    The real Winnum Roke. The truth he¡¯d been seeking. How convenient.


    Nic crawled closer. Her head was bowed, chin on her chest. She mumbled something. He sat down opposite her, legs crossed, slightly leaning forward. He took a deep breath, allowing the air to feel cool and refreshing inside his lungs. Even without a real body, it felt a relief to relax for a moment.


    ¡°I¡¯m glad I found you. I wanted to tell you, the dog really bothered me.¡±


    She looked up, her eyes red, her lips cracked. ¡°Get away,¡± she whispered hoarsely. ¡°The dog. A trick.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± he said. ¡°I think it was meant to bother me, but that bothered me even more. Do you know what I mean?¡± He looked at her.


    She wasn¡¯t making pained noises anymore. She was looking at him, her dirt-streaked face almost a mask she was peering through.


    ¡°Early on,¡± he continued, ¡°I decided the best way to do well in exams was to not just study the lessons, but also to study the teachers. They were the ones who gave out the marks, decided what was right and wrong. It didn¡¯t matter what I thought was the right answer, it only mattered what they thought. Or what I could convince them to think.¡±


    He smiled. ¡°I was a bit full of myself back then, to be honest. Although part of that may have been induced in me.¡± He looked down and picked at the earth with his fingernails. ¡°Or maybe I would just like to think so. In any case, I assumed most teachers would be expert in their chosen field. That field being the assessment of children. Better than any parent, who might rear, what, three or four children in a lifetime? Maybe ten or twelves if they really had nothing better to do. A teacher would go through batches of twenty, five or six times a day, for many years. And they would specialise in certain age ranges, seeing their responses to the same stimuli, over and over. If you were planning on running an experiment, the conditions would be ideal.¡±


    She was staring at him with something approaching disbelief. ¡°Run.¡± It was almost too quiet to hear.


    ¡°I calculated that any full-time teacher would have observed ninety percent of all possible behaviour within their first six years. The ones who resisted authority, the ones who never spoke, the ones who instigated trouble¡­ practically all the combinations, good and bad, should have been seen. Then it would be a simple matter of forming strategies to tackle them. Some trial and error, of course, but by ten years in the profession, not only should they have solutions in place, experience should have taught them to spot the signs even before they manifested.¡±


    ¡°They want you here,¡± she said, her voice full of urgency.


    ¡°Wait. Let me just make my point. So, not only did they have this wonderful opportunity, I had the added advantage of seeing the entire progression. While teachers always taught the students of the same age, my teachers were all at different stages of their careers. A young woman starting out, an old man approaching retirement, and everything in between. My theory was easily confirmable. And I was wrong. They did not aspire to perfect their craft. They lost interest. They didn¡¯t care what the students did. It wasn¡¯t why they became teachers.¡±


    He spread his hands apart to indicate he was as baffled as she. Although her bafflement may have been unrelated.


    ¡°I can¡¯t say exactly why. I have a number of theories, but it became more practical to use what I had learned rather than to understand it. I can share some of my ideas with you, if you like.¡±


    She didn¡¯t say anything.


    ¡°Perhaps they didn¡¯t have enough time to change anything. Or maybe their influence wasn¡¯t great enough. Maybe it was already too late by the time the children reached them. They say by seven, a child is fixed in its psychology. Maybe it just doesn¡¯t matter when it isn¡¯t your own child.


    ¡°What I could tell was that for most of them, they saw their job as getting the student to graduation still breathing and holding as many certificates as possible. A simple, measurable metric of success.


    ¡°It must be hard for a teacher, to know so much, to have learned a specific way to convey it, and then be faced by so many disparate minds to communicate it to. Overwhelming, I would imagine. Especially if it seemed so clear and obvious to you.¡±Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.


    He looked back to her. ¡°The dog. It isn¡¯t your dog. But it led me to you. It doesn¡¯t make sense. If you made it to attract attention, the demons would have spotted the error. If they made it to fool me into coming here, then they trapped me with a lie. That¡¯s not how they work. They would trap me with the truth. It might have worked on me if I was a demon. They can get drawn in by a well-made lie. But I am not a demon. And neither are you. I know you sent the dog. I know who you are and why you¡¯re here. I think I know why you wanted the demon here, and Simole, but I don¡¯t think you wanted me here. The All-Mother sent me, because you lied to her.¡±


    ¡°She lied to me,¡± said Winnum Roke, and then she disappeared. One moment she was there, and then she wasn¡¯t. Nic sighed. He unfolded his legs from under him and stretched them out, his back against the wall.


    His body couldn¡¯t be tired. His body was nowhere near here. He hoped it didn¡¯t have a moustache shaped like a penis drawn on its face.


    Now that he understood why the All-Mother had sent him here, he decided he would like to go back. He didn¡¯t want to stay here, wherever here was. He wanted to go home.


    He opened his eyes. He was looking up at the stars. Not the real ones back home. These ones moved when he stared at them too long, like they didn¡¯t appreciate the close inspection.


    He no longer sensed the demon in him. Events had occurred in his absence.


    There was a lot of noise. He sat up. Simole had her back to him, her arms stretched out in front of her. A beam of blue light was shooting out of her palms, making an awful buzzing sound that got louder the longer he looked. There was probably a reason why the volume was affected by his sight, but he doubted it was important.


    He got to his feet. She was focusing the full might of her terrible power on Minister Delcroix. At some point during Nic¡¯s small excursion, he had arrived. Had been taken control of by the demon, and then battle had commenced.


    Simole poured out her fury with relentless abandon, the Minister calmly watched behind a wall of shadowy figures.


    There were dozens of them, maybe hundreds. They rotated around him, absorbing everything Simole was throwing at them.


    ¡°Simole, stop.¡±


    She couldn¡¯t hear him over the racket her Arcanum-fuelled attack was making.


    ¡°Simole¡­¡± He stepped in front of her.


    The beam hit him in the chest. His whole body was filled with blue light, he could see it surrounding him like he¡¯d been swallowed by a phantom. The power of it was immense. Every part of him shook, but so fast it was hardly noticeable.


    It ran down through him, into his feet, into the ground, back to where it had come from.


    ¡°Simole, stop. This is what she wants. This is why she brought you here.¡±


    Simole looked at him, her face pained with effort. ¡°I can¡¯t.¡±


    Nic nodded, understanding. She was caught in some kind of loop. The Arcanum so powerful, it flowed through her like water through a crack in a dam.


    He reached out and grabbed the light rushing into his chest, and held onto it as though it were a pipe. He bent it back ninety degrees, so it pointed upwards, firing into the air, bursting apart like a fountain. Then he bent it again, so it pointed at Simole. The moment it touched her, it vanished.


    Simole staggered back.


    ¡°No!¡± cried out a voice from behind him.


    Nic turned and walked over to Delcroix. His wraiths were still swirling around him. His eyes were burning bright blue.


    ¡°What if there was only one of you?¡± said Nic.


    The wraiths gathered together like soldiers called to attention. It appeared like there was only one of them now, hovering in front of Nic. When he leaned to the side, he could see them lined up behind each other, stretching into the distance like two mirrors had been placed opposite each other. There was one wraith. Lots of ones.


    ¡°What if you were many?¡± he suggested.


    They shattered. Blue flecks floated around them, filling the air. Settling like snow on the ground, which absorbed them with flashes of light.


    Delcroix moved towards him. He looked like a man standing in front of a painting. He was really here. In his hand he had a knife. A black dagger. He wasn¡¯t a spirit, a part of his psyche made manifest. And the demon was controlling him.


    ¡°Before you kill me,¡± said Nic, ¡°I think I owe you the ending of a story.¡±


    Delcroix stopped.


    ¡°End him, now!¡± said a voice.


    Delcroix didn¡¯t obey. The demon was waiting for Nic.


    ¡°The Green Demon tried to become human, did all it could to win their trust, but it had to learn one final lesson. It had to learn to lie. And in order to lie, you must know the truth. But the Green Demon didn¡¯t want to believe the truth. So it could never lie.¡±


    ¡°What truth?¡± asked the demon, its voice oddly feminine in Delcroix¡¯s mouth.


    ¡°They never left you behind. You were the only one left.¡±


    The dagger fell from Delcroix¡¯s hand.


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± said Simole. ¡°How can it be the only one. What about the All-Mother?¡± She pointed up. ¡°What about all them?¡±


    ¡°The All-Mother isn¡¯t a demon. I think she¡¯s more like a guardian. One that failed horribly. And that,¡± ¡ªhe pointed up¡ª ¡°isn¡¯t the All-Mother. That¡¯s Winnum Roke. She switched places with the All-Mother, some kind of deal they made. Winnum Roke wanted to reach the stars, the real ones. I¡¯m not sure what she thought she¡¯d find there, maybe intelligent life, unlike what she had found here. You should read her autobiography. She really doesn¡¯t have a very high opinion of anyone.¡±


    ¡°But what happened to the other demons?¡± said Simole.


    Nic shrugged. ¡°Mages aren¡¯t born, they¡¯re made. I don¡¯t know what they do in the Royal College, but I can see why they¡¯re so secretive about it. He might know.¡± He pointed at Delcroix. ¡°Will you let him speak?¡±


    Delcroix stood motionless for a few seconds, and then he sagged. His skin took on a sallow pallor. He was terribly ill, that much was clear.


    He looked around him, saw Nic, and then staggered like he was about to fall. Nic rushed forward, but he raised a hand to ward him off.


    ¡°My daughter¡­¡±


    ¡°She isn¡¯t here,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°Where?¡±


    ¡°In Ransom. Safe. Comparatively.¡±


    He nodded, relief flooding his face, then becoming overburdened with pain once more. He turned and looked at the wraiths. Then what was behind them.


    ¡°I have heard of this place. It isn¡¯t anything like I thought.¡±


    ¡°Minister. Did you know? About the demons?¡±


    He looked confused. ¡°Know what?¡±


    ¡°The Royal College. What they did. Did you see?¡±


    He shook his head. ¡°I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about.¡± He collapsed, falling to one knee, coughing and wheezing.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong with him?¡± asked Simole.


    ¡°He¡¯s dying,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°Can¡¯t you save him? You seem to have a pretty good grasp of how to use Arcanum all of a sudden.¡± She said it like an accusation, like he¡¯d been hiding it from her all this time.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think so. It¡¯s the Arcanum that¡¯s killing him. More of it won¡¯t help.¡±


    ¡°But surely¡ª¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s right,¡± said Delcroix, getting back up. ¡°There¡¯s no point offering a cup of water to a drowning man. Come closer, boy. My daughter, you must...¡± He had another coughing fit.


    ¡°What did they do to the demons?¡± said Nic. ¡°In the Royal College. How do they turn you into mages?¡±


    Delcroix shook his head. ¡°It¡¯s a secret process. I was unconscious during it. Only a few know the truth.¡±


    ¡°But there¡¯s a place somewhere in the college? A place only a few have access to?¡±


    Delcroix nodded.


    ¡°And you have no idea what¡¯s in there?¡± said Simole, sounding doubtful.


    ¡°I believe him,¡± said Nic.


    Delcroix began coughing again. Blood sprayed from his mouth. He wiped it with the back of his hand. ¡°They brought me here, why?¡±


    ¡°To use you against the mages. Against the dragons.¡±


    ¡°I see. Yes. That makes sense.¡± He raised his hand, and the dark-bladed knife was in it. As fast as it appeared, it disappeared, into his own chest.


    Blood shot out in a spout, and froze mid-air. The Minister¡¯s face changed, the skin growing taut, almost painfully so.


    ¡°You think you can take your own life here,¡± said the demon.


    ¡°Let him go,¡± said Nic. ¡°Someone will use him against the All-Father if you don¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°That someone might be us,¡± said Simole.


    ¡°We don¡¯t need him,¡± said Nic. ¡°We have you.¡±


    Minister Delcroix was as frozen as his blood. ¡°What have you done?¡± said the demon, the voice coming from between unmoving lips.


    ¡°You can¡¯t keep him alive,¡± said Nic. ¡°It isn¡¯t your choice.¡±


    ¡°You think his heart will stop beating while I hold it in my hands?¡± asked the demon.


    ¡°You have spent enough time among us,¡± said Nic. ¡°Have you ever known spilled blood to be drawn back into an open vein?¡±


    The blood flowed out and the Minister fell to the floor.


    ¡°Did you just overcome a demon¡¯s will?¡± said Simole.


    ¡°Yes. It¡¯s their weakness, the direct contradiction. Don¡¯t worry, I can only do it here. Back home, you¡¯ll always be able to squash me like a bug.¡±


    Simole snorted. ¡°Glad to hear it. Was it really necessary to let him die?¡±


    ¡°There was no way to save him. This was better than the alternatives,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°I¡¯d like to see you convince the girl of that.¡±


    She had a point. It was something he would rather avoid, but he doubted he¡¯d be able to.


    Nic shuddered as something passed through him.


    You have grown, little one. How much stronger you are. How much better to stand with.


    It was like having claws sunk into his skin, into his flesh.


    ¡°Wait. First, you should speak to your summoner. She wanted you here for a reason. Look.¡± He pointed up. ¡°Is it the All-Mother?¡±


    The roof was full of twinkling lights. They were watching, silently. He could feel the demon resisting the truth, and suffering for it.


    ¡°Okay,¡± said Simole. ¡°Whenever you¡¯re ready.¡± She took a step back.


    Nic looked at her. ¡°You¡¯re not going to help?¡±


    ¡°What can I do? You¡¯re the one who has the power here.¡±


    ¡°Not really. I just understand how it works. She never did. Winnum Roke made a deal with the All-Mother. The ship for our world. Only, everything had come so easily to her, she never bothered to try and understand what she was doing. For her it was always very simple. My truth is better than your truth. That didn¡¯t work here, with unlimited Arcanum. Everyone¡¯s truth was as strong as everyone else¡¯s. It was hard to go in one direction for very long. Which is a problem when you¡¯re on a ship. No crew, no idea how to raise the anchor, or how to fill the sails.


    ¡°She wanted to go to the stars,¡± Nic said, spreading his arms. ¡°She only got as far as the lights on the ceiling. She never had much of an imagination.¡±


    ¡°But what about her book of fairy tales?¡± said Simole.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think she wrote those. Her autobiography, that she definitely wrote.¡±


    ¡°But you figured out how to use Arcanum here. Why couldn¡¯t she?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s like I had been prepared for this place. I guess that¡¯s why she sent me here. It¡¯s always been very clear to me that there is more than one truth, and that they can exist alongside each other. Is a date in a book correct? Yes, it¡¯s the answer you should give in the test. Is the other date in the banned book correct? Yes, it makes sense to hide a date that reveals someone wasn¡¯t fathered by the man who was stated to be the father. Could the date be fabricated to embarrass the family? Yes, a lie can be made to seem real, bound in leather. Could they use the truth to cause that same embarrassment? Yes, just because it¡¯s used as a weapon, doesn¡¯t mean it isn¡¯t true. And so on. All these things can be part of the same reality. Here, they can actually exist at the same time, if you can bring them together.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said a voice from above. ¡°I see why she sent you now.¡±


    The stars were moving together, forming into a shape. A humanoid figure, trailing plumes of blue light behind it, seemingly walking down invisible steps towards them.


    A more recognisable figure emerged as she neared. A girl. Dizzy. Only her hair was elegantly twisted around her neck. Her eyes were lined in black. Her lips were painted red. As her form took shape, her body was barely covered in satin dress that seemed to be sewn out of a galaxy.


    ¡°Come with me. Together, we can reach the stars.¡±


    ¡°Ha.¡± Simole scoffed loudly. ¡°You really don¡¯t have a very good imagination, do you? He doesn''t care about the way she looks. If it was pretty girls he wanted, it¡¯d be my feet he¡¯d be kissing.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± said Nic. ¡°You don¡¯t think she¡¯s attractive?¡± He had the awful feeling it wasn¡¯t only his desire for Dizzy that had been altered.


    ¡°She¡¯s fine if you like that sort of thing,¡± said Simole. ¡°Well put together, you know, like a scorpion is for the desert.¡±


    Nic frowned. He wanted her to explain the analogy, but now probably wasn¡¯t the best time. ¡°I¡ª¡±


    ¡°Never mind your love life,¡± said Simole. ¡°Look, old woman, what have you and my father been doing in the Royal College. And if mages can only be made and not born, how does that explain me?¡±


    ¡°Who was your mother, Simole?¡± asked Nic.


    She was caught off-guard by the question. ¡°I¡­ I don¡¯t know. My father always said¡­ He lied to me. He always lied, and I always knew it. Wait, you aren¡¯t saying it was her?¡± She pointed at the image of Dizzy.


    ¡°Winnum Roke?¡± said Nic. ¡°No. She hates kids.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t hate them,¡± said Winnum Roke. ¡°I just don¡¯t enjoy being around them. Meeting the two of you certainly hasn¡¯t changed that. But we should try to get along, seeing as we¡¯ll be spending so much time together.¡±


    ¡°No, thank you,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°She literally doesn¡¯t understand people have feelings different to hers, does she?¡± said Simole. ¡°Us kids don¡¯t exactly enjoy being around you, either. I¡¯ll have to pass.¡±


    ¡°You come all this way to find answers, and now you won¡¯t take them?¡± She might have looked like Dizzy, but the voice was far too grand.


    ¡°The price is too high,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°You don¡¯t know what I¡¯ll ask.¡±


    ¡°I know how much it cost you. I doubt you¡¯ll want to make a loss.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t want to know what¡¯s inside the Royal College?¡±


    ¡°I already know,¡± said Nic. ¡°I just wanted to know if he did.¡± He looked down at Delcroix.


    ¡°You have nowhere else to go,¡± said Winnum Roke.


    ¡°We have everywhere to go,¡± said Nic. ¡°And so do you. It was never a matter of needing demons here, or using Simole to convert the Arcanum into raw power.¡± He pointed at the now dark roof. ¡°You limited your own goals.¡±


    The roof cracked, shattered, fell in a million, million tiny pieces that floated down in a shower of glittering dust.


    What was left was a star-filled sky. Not just above them, but in all directions. ¡°You don¡¯t even need the ship anymore. You¡¯ve been here so long, you¡¯re made of Arcanum. Go where you want. I¡¯m going to go home.¡±


    ¡°How?¡± asked Simole.


    ¡°Same way he got here,¡± said Nic, kneeling down beside Delcroix. ¡°You should come with us. We could use your help getting into the Royal College. And you probably have things you want to ask the All-Mother.¡±


    The demon, barely perceptible presence inside him, shivered. He took that as a yes.

 Chapter Forty Nine

    ¡°Is he dead?¡± asked Davo, his voice a low but urgent whisper.


    ¡°He isn¡¯t moving,¡± said Fanny.


    ¡°Are you sure? I think I see his chest going up and down.¡±


    Fanny leaned forward, straining against the invisible bonds holding him in place. He was standing with his arms by his sides, unable to move below the neck. ¡°I can¡¯t tell. Nic?¡± Fanny shouted. ¡°Are you dead?¡±


    There was no response.


    ¡°Brilliant. Why didn¡¯t I think of that?¡±


    ¡°What? We¡¯re hardly going to get into more trouble, are we?¡±


    Davo peered nervously towards the other side of the glass dome they were in, where the Librarian was lying, just as still as Nic, but with a knife hilt sticking out of her head.


    ¡°At least she¡¯s dead.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think so,¡± said Fanny. ¡°If she was really dead, we wouldn¡¯t be stuck like this.¡±


    They were held tight in whatever magic the Librarian had used to bind them.


    ¡°Maybe it¡¯s self-sustaining,¡± suggested Davo. ¡°Needs to be turned off.¡±


    ¡°That doesn¡¯t explain her.¡± Fanny nodded towards his other side, but without looking that way.


    Davo had to lean forward to see past him. Dizzy hung in mid-air, her feet several centimetres above the floor. Her arms were raised and spread wide like she¡¯d been crucified, her head bowed. Her hair, which had been pinned back in a neat bun, now hung loose over her face. She hadn¡¯t spoken since Nic had collapsed. The only noise coming from her were heavy, rasping breaths.


    ¡°She was free when the Librarian bought it,¡± said Fanny. ¡°The spell on her was cast after the Librarian went down.¡±


    ¡°Meaning the Librarian can still do magic? Then why is she just lying there? Taking a quick nap?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± said Fanny. ¡°Maybe she¡¯s hurt.¡±


    Davo thought it over. Did demons need time to recover from their injuries? Magic beings could conjure up a healing spell, you would have thought. But Dizzy had used some kind of specially-made weapon to immobilise her. It had probably disrupted her Arcanum field. But that didn¡¯t make sense, either. If her Arcanum field was scrambled, how had she managed to cast a spell on Dizzy after getting hit?


    Davo leaned forward again, the effort pulling the muscles in his neck painfully taut. ¡°Hey, Delcroix, can you free yourself again?¡±


    She had managed it before, long enough to throw the dagger at Nic. It had been a smart move, using Nic to shield her actions. The Librarian didn¡¯t see the projectile aimed at her until the last moment, when Nic dodged out of the way. That was, he assumed what she had planned. She might have just been trying to kill Nic.


    Dizzy didn¡¯t respond. She hadn¡¯t been in the best of moods since being pinned in mid-air, her feet hanging free below her. She had spent the first hour or so struggling to escape, twisting her body into impossible contortions until she was exhausted. Now, she was probably trying to come up with a plan that involved sacrificing him or Fanny.


    It might actually be better all around if inspiration didn¡¯t strike.


    ¡°Hey,¡± he said, ¡°how can we help Nic?¡±


    Her head slowly turned to the side, one eye visible through the curtain of hair. Even though he was held firmly in place, Davo¡¯s body twitched in an effort to get away from the vicious mono-stare.


    ¡°I¡¯m trying to think,¡± she said in a slow, quiet voice that left no doubt of the level of interest she had in his queries. ¡°Shut up.¡±


    Fanny¡¯s left leg suddenly jerked forward. The shoe flew off his foot, arcing through the air, aiming for Nic¡¯s prostrate body. Nic¡¯s hand rose, knocking the flying shoe away. Then the arm flopped back to his side.


    Davo waited, expectantly. Nothing else happened.


    ¡°It¡¯s an involuntary response,¡± said Fanny. ¡°The body is protecting itself while the mind is elsewhere. Spirit displacement.¡±


    ¡°How do you know that?¡± Davo was more curious about how Fanny had suddenly gained insight into magic than where Nic¡¯s mind had been displaced to.


    ¡°I know things,¡± said Fanny defensively.


    ¡°How did you move your foot?¡±


    The shoeless foot was back in position next to its non-identical twin.


    ¡°I¡¯ve got a small disruptor in the pocket of my trousers on that side.¡±


    ¡°So it¡¯s just one leg you can move?¡±


    ¡°Yes. But I have to let the charge build up first. Takes quite a long time. I¡¯ll need another six hours before I can do that again.¡±


    It didn¡¯t sound like it would help them get out of their predicament. No unless Fanny could fling his sock across the room and hit the Librarian with it. Davo was familiar with the state of Fanny¡¯s socks. The smell would be enough to destroy the most intense of Arcanum fields.


    There was movement on the floor. The Librarian¡¯s arm moved. Her hand grabbed the hilt of the dagger and pulled it out, throwing it aside. Then her arm flopped back again, similar to how Nic¡¯s had done.


    Davo waited for the next thing. There wasn¡¯t one. The two bodies continued to remain where they were on the ground.


    ¡°I was right,¡± said Fanny.


    ¡°Congratulations.¡± Davo was about to add some more choice words regarding what he thought of Fanny¡¯s diagnostic abilities, when Dizzy began shaking. Her shoulder on one side jumped closer to her ear, making a cracking sound that didn¡¯t seem very healthy. Her legs shot out in front of her, and then climbed up like there was an invisible wall to push against.


    Both legs were almost vertical, and it looked like her body would go through an entire rotation, but then they just hung there, inverted, before they fell back down again.


    Her body went limp, her breathing laboured. Whatever she¡¯d been trying hadn¡¯t worked.


    ¡°I think she was trying to climb out,¡± said Fanny, leaning away from Dizzy.


    ¡°Would that work?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. Maybe I could help if I could reach her with my foot.¡±


    Davo couldn¡¯t see how that would help anyone. ¡°If she does get free, do you think she¡¯d help us?¡±


    Fanny thought about it. ¡°Probably not.¡±


    ¡°No. Probably not. We have to come up with our own escape plan.¡±


    ¡°Yes?¡± said Fanny. There was a long moment of silence as the two of them racked their brains.


    ¡°What would Nic do?¡± Davo muttered to himself.


    ¡°He¡¯d probably tell us a story about some ancient bureaucrat from fifteen hundred years ago who defeated a mad tyrant by using advanced accounting techniques.¡± Fanny chortled to himself, amused by his characterisation of his friend.


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Davo. ¡°You¡¯re right.¡±


    ¡°I am? Accountancy¡¯s the answer?¡±


    ¡°No, you dolt. He would come up with a story. He said that¡¯s how you overcome demons, didn¡¯t he? You weave a fantastic tale so mesmerising, they lose all focus and become immersed in the world you create for them, like a prison. All we need to do is come up with one that keeps the Librarian so absorbed, she forgets to keep us under this spell. Then we get out of here as fast as we can.¡±


    ¡°Okay,¡± said Fanny, ¡°what kind of story?¡±


    ¡°It has to be one she hasn¡¯t heard before.¡±


    ¡°But she¡¯s a librarian. She must have read every book in the world.¡±


    ¡°Then we¡¯ll have to make up our own story.¡±


    There was another long silence.


    ¡°Can you think of one?¡± asked Fanny.


    ¡°No. You?¡±


    Fanny shook his head. They both looked across at Dizzy. Neither bothered to ask her.


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you just start talking?¡± said Fanny. ¡°See if something come out.¡±


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not really my thing,¡± said Fanny. ¡°I¡¯m good with my hands. You¡¯re the chatty one.¡±


    Davo considered taking offence at being described as chatty, like he was some kind of shopgirl, but it was hardly the time or place. Clearly it was up to him to get them out of this particular inconvenience.


    ¡°Once upon a time¡­¡±


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± said Fanny. ¡°Once upon a time?¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong with that?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a bit old fashioned, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s a demon,¡± pointed out Davo. ¡°She¡¯s probably ten thousand years old. She probably invented ¡®once upon a time.¡¯¡±


    ¡°I thought you said it should be something she¡¯s never heard before.¡± There was a faint ¡®gotcha¡¯ tone to his voice that Davo didn¡¯t appreciate.


    ¡°The format isn¡¯t the important thing, it¡¯s the content. Look at that book of fairy tales she was carrying. You think they were written in the latest style? Now, unless you want to do this, I suggest you play the part of the appreciative audience and shut up.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s no need to be so aggressive,¡± Fanny mumbled. ¡°I think she¡¯s rubbing off on you.¡±


    Dizzy made a grunting sound, although whether it was a formal rejection of the credit for Davo¡¯s behaviour, or her preparing for her next escape attempt, he couldn¡¯t be sure.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I¡¯ll try to make it up to you in the next life. It should be along shortly.¡±


    ¡°Apology accepted,¡± said Fanny, who had the irritating habit of answering sarcasm with earnest gratitude. ¡°Please continue.¡±


    ¡°Once upon a time,¡± ¡ªDavo paused, but there was no interruption¡ª ¡°there was a gentleman named¡­ Faniman.¡±


    Fanny¡¯s eyes narrowed, but he didn¡¯t say anything.


    ¡°This gentleman lived in the beautiful city of Cit...iplace.¡±


    ¡°Hmm. Don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever heard of Citiplace. Sounds made up.¡±


    ¡°Obviously it¡¯s made up.¡±


    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you use a real city?¡±


    ¡°Because what if the demon knows the city better than I do? I have to be convincing, so she can¡¯t doubt my story.¡±


    ¡°You think Citiplace is convincing?¡±


    ¡°Do you know if there¡¯s a river running through Citiplace or not? Huh? See? I control the reality.¡±


    ¡°If you had a strong enough Arcanum field,¡± said Fanny. ¡°You could use a real city, and it would have a river or not because you said so.¡±


    ¡°I know! Do I have an Arcanum field? No. So that¡¯s why I¡¯m making up my own locations.¡±


    ¡°Okay. But you probably shouldn¡¯t have said all that out loud. She probably heard everything.¡±


    ¡°Can we agree to no more audience participation? I need to get into the story if this is going to work.¡±


    Fanny nodded.


    ¡°Mr Faniman was a collector of hats. He had every style from every age, even from antiquity. One day he found a rather ancient, but quaint, form of headgear in an old shop that sold secondhand goods. A small establishment that traded in quality merchandise. The market for previously owned goods was a strong indicator of a city¡¯s economy, and Citiplace produced both fashionable items that people desired, and well-made ones, that were worthy of purchase, even when having been previously owned. Some manufacturer¡¯s considered items that were built-to-last as financially limiting. If a customer bought a pair of shoes that would last him a lifetime, he would never need to spend money in that store again! But Faniman knew better. He was a man who appreciated craft and was willing to pay more, and to buy for pleasure. Faniman loved hats.¡±


    ¡°You aren¡¯t going to go off on a tangent about the import-export business, are you?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, am I boring you?¡±This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    ¡°No, no. I was just wondering where this was going.¡±


    ¡°Yes. That¡¯s how stories are supposed to work.¡± Davo gave Fanny a stern look. ¡°Faniman tried the hat on, and the world around him changed. It was a magical hat. He was no longer in the small shop in the city, he was in a cave, and in front of him was a beast of unimaginable horror.¡±


    ¡°How could he see?¡± asked Fanny.


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°How could he see in the cave. Was there a fire?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m trying to help you make it more authentic. The demon won¡¯t just accept your version of the facts.¡±


    ¡°Glowing mushrooms, okay? The cave was full of them. Happy now?¡±


    ¡°Carry on.¡±


    ¡°Where was I?¡±


    ¡°Unimaginable horror.¡±


    ¡°I know the feeling. The beast had horns growing out of its head. And tusks growing out of its face. And wings growing out of its back.¡± Davo paused, struggling to come up with the next part. What was he even trying to do? ¡°It was a demon. The demon said, ¡®You wear the hat of the first demon. It is an artefact of immeasurable power that will grant you three wishes. What is your first wish?¡¯ And Faniman said, do you have a bigger hat? This one¡¯s a bit tight.¡±


    ¡°That was his wish?¡± said Fanny, confounded by the direction the story had taken. ¡°He wanted a bigger hat?¡±


    ¡°Do you know the number one reason for the return of headwear? Incorrect sizing. It¡¯s very uncomfortable walking around all day with a poorly fitting hat on your head. Clearly you aren¡¯t cut out to be a millner.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think you¡¯re cut out to be a storyteller.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t disagree! You try.¡±


    ¡°Okay. Once upon a time¡­¡± Fanny paused. It was the perfect opportunity to say something pointed, but Davo bit his tongue. ¡°Once upon a time there was a young woman who had fallen in love with a boy far below her social standing.¡±


    ¡°Is this going to be a soppy love story where everyone dies because you can¡¯t think of an ending?¡± asked Davo.


    ¡°No. It¡¯s a tale so full of emotion and human drama that it will move you to tears.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m practically in tears now,¡± said Davo.


    The Librarian sat up. Her eyes looked a little out of focus, but other than that, she seemed unharmed. There was no sign of any wound or injury. No blood, not even a bruise. She rose to her feet and looked down at Nic. She frowned.


    ¡°Um,¡± said Fanny. ¡°Could you free us, please?¡±


    The Librarian looked over at them, like she wasn¡¯t sure who they were.


    ¡°Did you like my story?¡± said Davo. ¡°I could tell you the rest of it if you let us go.¡± This was how Nic would do it. Offer a part of a story, use it as bait to swap favours.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I wasn¡¯t listening,¡± said the Librarian, her voice strangely muted, as though stuck in the back of her throat. ¡°Maybe next time.¡±


    Of course, the story had to be engaging. Not about hats.


    ¡°We aren¡¯t really a threat to you,¡± said Davo. ¡°And I think my arms are going to fall off if they don¡¯t get some blood circulating in them soon.¡± His whole life he had been trained to charm austere women of noble birth. Some required cajoling, some flattery. There were even those who appreciated the blunt truth, as though it indicated honesty of intent.


    This one seemed to be impenetrable, but she had shown a fondness for Nic. Perhaps even compassion.


    The Librarian came closer. She took out a small grey box with a green gem set in the top. She pressed the gem and Davo stumbled as he was set free.


    Fanny¡¯s legs collapsed under him and he ended up sitting on the ground. ¡°What is that?¡± he asked as he rubbed his thighs to get some feeling back.


    Davo elbowed him hard. Now was not the time to make inquiries about gizmos and gadgets. Fanny gave him an annoyed look, but stopped talking, now rubbing the side of his arm.


    The Librarian didn¡¯t seem to have noticed. She was standing in front of Dizzy, who was still suspended. He and Fanny might not pose a threat, but Miss Delcroix was another proposition entirely.


    A noise came out of Dizzy that was like a snake enraged, her fallen hair revealing none of her face. ¡°What have you done to him, demon?¡± she hissed.


    ¡°He is working to save you. To save us all.¡±


    ¡°Would you like to hear a story from me, demon? I could spin you a tale. What would you like? Demons of sophistication who battle with their sharpened wits? That¡¯s how you like to see yourselves, don¡¯t you? Civilised. My story is about a knight and a monster. The knight, in gleaming armour, vowed to kill the monster. The monster, claws dripping crimson, fed on children, devoured them in chunks. The knight hunted the monster down and cut its legs off. The monster bit him with its pointed fangs and he broke its jaw. The monster attempted to flee, but he snapped off its wings. He sliced off its ears and burned out its eyes. He ripped its chest open and dragged out its entrails. The knight placed a blade at the monster¡¯s throat and said, ¡®You are evil, and you must be stopped. But your evil will not end with you. Your blood runs in the veins of every child you have sired. They must be cleansed from the land. Though they be but bairn who have committed no crime, their tainted blood has marked them for death, and it is I who must end their lives for no other reason than that they owe their existence to you. This is the evil you have wrought, monster, the curse you have placed on a man that was once good and fair.¡¯¡± Dizzy lifted her head, her eyes level with the Librarian¡¯s. ¡°I am that knight, monster.¡±


    ¡°What kind of murder fairytale was that?¡± whispered Fanny in a ratted voice.


    ¡°After Nic comes back and saves us from the demons,¡± Davo whispered back, ¡°it¡¯ll be up to us to save him from her.¡±


    Fanny nodded.


    ¡°I like your story,¡± said the Librarian, betraying no emotion. ¡°But the details are a bit muddy. I think you¡¯ll find the knight left the children out as bait to entice the monster into his killing ground. Not his own children of course, they were too precious to him. Perhaps you know the old saying, ¡®it takes a monster to kill a monster¡¯? It is not always the case, but it is certainly one way to do it. Although you don¡¯t have to create your own monster, you can usually find one nearby. Closer than you think.¡±


    ¡°Why aren¡¯t you dead?¡± said Dizzy. ¡°I struck you true. You should be dead. Why aren¡¯t you dead, demon?¡±


    ¡°Because,¡± said the Librarian, ¡°I am not a demon.¡±


    Dizzy seemed to buckle, the words causing her discomfort. ¡°Then what are you?¡±


    To Davo, the Librarian seemed to shrink. ¡°I am a failure. I failed to protect those in my charge. I lost everything to a world full of pettiness and greed, of small minds and narrow thought. And yet it was enough to defeat me.¡± Her sadness grew to fill the small dome they were in.


    ¡°You work for them,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°You are one of them.¡±


    ¡°Yes, and no. I am nothing like them. This body is real. Once it is destroyed, so am I. I would appreciate if you didn¡¯t try to break it again. The repairs are exhausting. The only magic I can affect comes from these.¡± She held up the small box again. The gem glinted. ¡°Without it, I am no more powerful than you.¡±


    Dizzy twisted her body. Her leg moved with startling speed, kicking the box out of the Librarian¡¯s upturned hand. It sailed through the air and struck Davo in the chest. He caught it as it bounced off him.


    ¡°Press it,¡± screamed Dizzy.


    Davo did as instructed, the urgency in her voice pushing out any thoughts of disobeying. He pushed the green gem.


    Dizzy dropped to the floor.


    The Librarian took a step back, but didn¡¯t seem overly concerned.


    Dizzy darted forward, threw herself feet first, sliding past the Librarian, not even close to striking her. But that wasn¡¯t her target.


    She skidded to a stop by the dagger that had been thrown clear. She grabbed it, turned over onto her front, and began running back, dagger held out to one side.


    She darted from side to side, smoothly, like she was on ice. She veered off towards Nic, spun her body like meat on spit, and landed crouching over his body, one knee on the ground, one close to her ribs. She had a hand on his chest, the dagger pointed at the Librarian.


    ¡°You can¡¯t have him. He belongs to me.¡±


    The Librarian hadn¡¯t moved. ¡°I have no intention of hurting him. I think he can still return to us. I had planned to send you, once you were ready. But there was no time, and he was the only one who could¡­ who might be able to change things. He is a boy of such unexpected directions.¡±


    ¡°You should have sent me,¡± said Dizzy bitterly, tears coursing down her face. ¡°He isn¡¯t a fighter.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t send him to fight. You are the warrior I would have sent. He is the guide that needed to show the way. They will return soon. We must be ready.¡±


    Dizzy crouched lower, like a bird protecting her chick. ¡°No. Don¡¯t touch him.¡±


    ¡°Will you stop behaving like a spoilt child?¡± said Davo, rising to his feet. ¡°Nic doesn¡¯t belong to you. You¡¯ve done nothing but treat him as an imposition to your grand plans since he got here. If you¡¯d actually treated him with the courtesy he deserved, you might actually have learned from him, and been ready for when you were needed, instead of trying to manipulate everyone within reach to do your bidding. He could have been your guide, but now he¡¯s out there, alone. Get off him. We have to be ready. What do you think will happen if he comes back and finds you sitting on him? He¡¯ll probably die of embarrassment. Now get up.¡±


    Dizzy¡¯s face lost some of its vehement assuredness. She clung to the rest, but it was slipping away. ¡°You trust her?¡± She slowly drifted back, so she wasn¡¯t directly over Nic¡¯s body.


    ¡°No. But as Nic would tell you if he was here, you don¡¯t help your cause by doubting your choices. Once you commit, you act as though it is the right choice. Hesitation can turn a poor chance into a non-existent one.¡±


    ¡°Only he would say what Davo said in a much smarter way,¡± said Fanny.


    ¡°Thank you for your support,¡± said Davo.


    ¡°And he would have made my point much more tactfully than I did,¡± said Fanny, his face at least apologetic. ¡°That¡¯s why he can fight demons, and we can only try to not get in the way. Did you make this?¡± He held up the grey box. ¡°Can I look inside?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said the Librarian. The box floated out of Fanny¡¯s hand and returned to hers.


    ¡°It should be obvious to even someone as conflicted as you,¡± Davo said to Dizzy, ¡°that she is letting us run around like this. We can¡¯t stop her, and we probably can¡¯t even help her. But maybe if we stay close by, there will come an opportunity when we can help him.¡± He pointed at Nic.


    Dizzy stood up, dagger still clenched in her fist.


    ¡°Pick him up,¡± said the Librarian. ¡°We¡¯ll have to take his body to him.¡±


    ¡°How will we escape from the Archmage¡¯s containment field?¡± said Dizzy, not sounding combative for the first time. Not as.


    The Librarian held the grey box up, and it opened into a strip covered in more gems, and wrapped itself around her wrist like a bracelet. ¡°I¡¯m good with my hands, too.¡±


    Between them, Davo and Fanny lifted Nic off the floor while Dizzy watched through uncertain eyes.


    ¡°I thought she was going to stab you when you called her a spoilt child,¡± said Fanny.


    ¡°Me too,¡± said Davo, his voice no longer that of the bold realist. He patted Nic on the back. ¡°Good luck, Nic. After the demons are taken care of, you¡¯re on your own.¡±


    ***


    ¡°I thought our bodies would change,¡± said Nic. ¡°Become more ghostly.¡±


    ¡°We aren¡¯t ghosts,¡± said Simole.


    ¡°I know. But I feel like this is my real body.¡± He poked himself in the stomach. ¡°But my body is back in Ransom.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re lucky,¡± said Simole. ¡°I have no idea where mine is. Someone was supposed to keep it tethered.¡± She gave him a backwards glance as she climbed.


    ¡°I think it might still be. I¡¯ll ask once she¡¯s talking to me again¡­¡± His voice trailed off and he looked at the pulsating wall beside him. ¡°It looks like it¡¯s breathing.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s for dramatic effect.¡± She kept walking, the steps cut into the wall disappearing ahead of them once outside the reach of the light floating over Simole.


    ¡°It''s very effective,¡± said Nic. ¡°Dramatically speaking.¡± He did his best not to touch the walls.


    Above them was a small white circle. The sky, he hoped. It hadn¡¯t gotten any bigger the last few hours, though.


    ¡°I think your father will have your body safe, somewhere.¡±


    ¡°Hmm,¡± said Simole. ¡°Very useful. Maybe I¡¯ll borrow that girl¡¯s body.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think she¡¯d agree.¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t ask first.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t do that,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°I¡¯ll let you see her naked.¡±


    ¡°No, thank you.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t want to see her naked.¡±


    ¡°Not like that. You¡¯re being creepy.¡±


    ¡°You have no idea,¡± said Simole. ¡°You should see my journals. Take my advice, if you ever get the opportunity to peer inside the mind of a sixteen year old girl, don¡¯t look.¡±


    ¡°Do you think she¡¯ll be happy to see I¡¯m alive?¡±


    ¡°Pathetic. Yes, I¡¯m sure she¡¯ll fall at your feet. ¡®Oh, Nic, how could I have been so foolish. It¡¯s you I¡¯ve always pined for.¡± It will be a magical reunion, I¡¯m sure.¡±


    ¡°Now you¡¯re being mean.¡±


    ¡°Am I?¡± said Simole. ¡°Am I even worse than a demon?¡±


    ¡°No. Pretty close, though.¡±


    Simole stopped and turned around, looking down at him from on high. ¡°Just watch yourself. Once we get out of here, I¡¯ll be the all-powerful one, and you¡¯ll be back to being a boy of no consequence.¡±


    ¡°I hope so,¡± said Nic. They plodded on. Nic kept eyeing the wall. What if it wasn¡¯t for effect? What if they were inside a living being?


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t make sense,¡± said Simole. ¡°Her letting us go like this. You know that, of course.¡±


    ¡°Do I?¡±


    ¡°Patronising. Nice. A career in teaching awaits you. I was thinking, you were really clever back there.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡±


    ¡°I haven¡¯t finished yet. You used your skills to create a maze for the All-Mother to get lost in. And that allowed me to get free of her restraining spells. An excellent plan.¡±


    ¡°Thanks.¡±


    ¡°Still not finished. It worked great. Only, that wasn¡¯t the All-Mother. That was Winnum Roke. So then why would your strategy designed for demons work so beautifully on Winnum Roke, who is not a demon?¡±


    ¡°Well...¡± said Nic.


    ¡°Yes, yes, lots of possible reasons. The switch between her and the All-Mother could have had all sorts of side-effects, I¡¯m sure. Arcanum everywhere, demons merging all over the place. Lots of possibilities, right?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Nic. ¡°Lots.¡±


    ¡°But not very likely that you would just luckily stumble onto the right method at the right time, is it? Far more likely she let you think you outplayed her. That¡¯s the way she likes to do it, after all. Like with the dog. Make a lie to be found out. Let the mark think they¡¯re one step ahead, when they¡¯re a thousand steps behind. Even now, she probably wants us to go to the Royal College, create a fuss. She probably even wants us to figure this out, all part of her plan.¡±


    She stopped again. He was following with head down, so had to stop abruptly when he realised she had turned around.


    ¡°Um, yes. I think that¡¯s most likely true.¡±


    ¡°But you don¡¯t care? That¡¯s why you didn¡¯t press her for answers? She wasn¡¯t expecting that, I could tell.¡±


    ¡°How?¡± asked Nic.


    ¡°I¡¯ve known people to fake sincerity, but I¡¯ve never known anyone who could feign contempt. What do you think we¡¯ll find at the Royal College?¡±


    Nic shrugged. ¡°Could be a lot of things.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t trust me, huh? Good move. I might be one of her stooges, too. Probably wouldn¡¯t even know it.¡± She began walking again. ¡°Who do you think my mother was?¡±


    ¡°I have no idea,¡± said Nic. He heard her sigh. ¡°No, really. You need to ask your father.¡±


    ¡°He might not even be my father.¡±


    ¡°I think he is. You look like him.¡± He nearly walked into her again. He felt he¡¯d said the wrong thing. She didn¡¯t say anything for the rest of the climb.


    It took several more hours to get to the top. Nic didn¡¯t feel tired. Or hungry or thirsty. The white circle had remained the same size for ages, and then began rapidly growing and they were stumbling out into the light.


    He also had no idea where they were.


    ¡°Does this look familiar to you?¡± he asked Simole.


    She looked around at the large warehouses. One of them had collapsed. ¡°No. Bit of a dump, isn¡¯t it? No hero¡¯s welcome for us. Who do we ask for directions?¡±


    ¡°What about him?¡± said Nic.


    There was a man standing on the other side of the pit they¡¯d crawled out of. He looked old, and his clothes were quite shabby.


    ¡°Hello,¡± said Nic. ¡°Excuse me.¡±


    He ignored the calls. It quickly became apparent the man could neither see nor hear them.


    ¡°Maybe we are ghosts,¡± said Simole as they stood right in front of him.


    She poked him in the chest. Her finger passed into him, and he jumped back.


    ¡°Are you there?¡± His voice was dry and husky, like he badly needed a drink of water. ¡°I was sent to meet you.¡± He was looking around, uncertain if he was speaking to himself or not.


    ¡°Give him a sign,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°How?¡±


    ¡°Magic,¡± said Nic.


    Simole pointed a finger at the ground and ray of light shot out. A few seconds later there was a message scorched into the earth.


    Where are we?


    The man tugged on his dirty yellow beard. ¡°You don¡¯t know where you are?¡±


    Simole raised her finger and pointed it at him. Nic pushed the finger back down before she disintegrated their only ride out of here.


    ¡°This is Gweur,¡± the man said. ¡°Near the border with Ranvar.¡±


    Nic groaned. ¡°It¡¯ll take us forever to get back.¡±


    ¡°If you come with me, we have some bodies prepared for you.¡± The man backed away, still looking in all directions at once.


    ¡°Bodies?¡± said Simole as they followed him. ¡°This¡¯ll be fun. I hope they have a selection. Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ll choose for you.¡±


    Nic groaned again. ¡°Please help me.¡±


    ¡°Are you talking to the demon?¡± asked Simole.


    ¡°Trying to.¡±


    ¡°Asking for help against the All-Mother. ¡°


    He looked at Simole, stuck in spirit form at the start of what would be a desperate fight, grinning wickedly at him. ¡°Yeah, amongst other things.¡±

 Chapter Fifty

    It felt, to Nic, that all the pieces were there. He had gathered disparate bits of information from the many sides to this millennia-old conflict, and now he just had to sift through them to find the answer.


    He wasn¡¯t exactly sure what it was he was looking for an answer to, but he would probably recognise it when he saw it. At least, he hoped he would.


    So far, the accumulation of knowledge, which he had viewed as one of his strengths, had only served to inundate him with endless minutia. How it related to the whole, assuming there was one, was still a mystery. It was quite possible that none of what he had learned would turn out to be of use to him. Or it might only make sense when viewed from the correct angle.


    Winnum Roke had retreated to the demon world. The All-Father had taken the form of a dragon. The Librarian had sent him to the other place without telling him what he was supposed to do there. And the mages of the Royal College were hiding something within their walls.


    They were probably hiding many things, but the secret of how demons and mages were connected was what interested Nic. If he was right ¡ª and there was an excellent chance that he wasn¡¯t ¡ª they held the most important part of the puzzle.


    He recalled a book about the eminent archaeologist, Gobal Triste, who discovered coloured shards of pottery from a previous Ranvar ¡ª many kingdoms had formed and collapsed before the current incarnation took shape. Triste attempted to recreate the earthenware by matching colours. He failed repeatedly, until he realised his discovery was not a collection of pots and bowls, but was in fact a mosaic.


    Knowing what he was looking at made it much easier to reconstruct it. The picture had been of a many-headed dragon. It hung in the rear of the Librarium, collecting dust.


    Triste had been lucky. He only had to swap one incorrect assumption for one accurate interpretation. One lie for one truth. Nic had several truths to contend with, each pressing to be the most believable.


    As with the reconstruction of a shattered mosaic, it would be easier for Nic if he knew what the original version had been. Something the demon within him could probably help with, if it was so inclined. It was not.


    He could feel the brooding presence under his skin, taking up space in some recess of his mind. It was a stifling thought, if he allowed himself to dwell on the knowledge too long. He had tried to reach out with no success. He had no way to force a dialogue. The demon was waiting for answers, just as he was.


    The old man who had met them as they emerged from the other place was guiding them through the streets of what appeared to be an abandoned town. His clothes were torn and dirty, his white hair was lank and greasy, his beard was yellowed with the stains from some chemical trade. Maybe he was a tanner. He looked more like a beggar. He kept nervously peering back at them, even though Nic and Simole were invisible to him. Having confirmed nothing, he continued to lead the way.


    It was eerily quiet. The town was the size of his own home, although Hammond was more residential, and this place had the air of a commercial centre. Most of the stores were aimed at other tradesmen, rather than the public. Large boards, the paint cracked from exposure to the elements, advertised services. Repairs for vehicles, feed for animals, cheap overnight accommodation; all designed to better serve those coming and going, rather than the citizens.


    It was evident that people no longer lived here. Weeds grew unchecked, and broken windows and doors suggested the inhabitants had left some time ago.


    ¡°So,¡± said Simole. ¡°This is Gweur.¡±


    ¡°Mm,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°This is my first trip outside of Ranvar. I was never allowed to leave the castle.¡±


    ¡°Sounds nice,¡± Nic muttered absentmindedly.


    ¡°It was lovely. We had dragon eggs for breakfast every morning. Took hours.¡±


    ¡°Mm, must have been tasty. Ow! What was that for?¡± He put a hand to the back of his head where Simole had slapped him. There didn¡¯t appear to be any bleeding. As he looked at his hand, it seemed to grow fainter.


    ¡°You were ignoring me,¡± said Simole.


    ¡°No, I wasn¡¯t. This is your first time in Gweur, you grew up in a castle, and you made a joke about eating dragon eggs.¡±


    Simole¡¯s scowl softened. ¡°Do you ever stop preparing for tests?¡±


    ¡°Force of habit.¡± He looked around. They were in a cobbled street tightly packed with small empty shops. The one next to him had once sold boots and gloves. There was a solitary glove in the window with reinforced stitching and padded fingers. Ideal for unloading crates. ¡°Where is he taking us?¡±


    ¡°There,¡± said Simole, pointing to where the man was standing, holding a door open. The building had no signage, but it looked like a cafe. There were tables and chairs inside. They had served food, once.


    Nic and Simole entered, but the man remained holding the door, uncertain if his charges had arrived or not. Simole let him know by raising a hand and blasting the door shut.


    The man blinked in confusion for a moment, and then understood his guests were inside. He looked around the dimly lit room.


    ¡°Um, welcome. That is, this is the¡­¡± He raised an arm, indicating a corner of the room.


    There were two people seated at a table. Their chairs had been turned so the table was behind them. A man and a woman. Both fairly young, but adult, dressed like workers. The man wore boots, trousers with braces, a woollen shirt, and a small hat that was tilted back, doing little to cover his curly hair.


    The woman wore a simple smock over a plain dress. She had a bonnet tied onto her head, but it was not the flamboyant kind worn by the women of Ranvar. It was functional, there to keep woman¡¯s long flaxen hair out of her face while she worked.


    Both had their hands on their knees, and their eyes open, staring but unseeing.


    ¡°I was told this would be all you needed,¡± said the man. ¡°That is, and the transportation. I¡¯ll prepare the horses now.¡± He went back to the door, testing the door handle like it might bite him before taking hold of it. He paused with the door open. ¡°Thank you for helping us. When we are free, I hope we can show our gratitude.¡± He hurried out.


    ¡°I wonder what he thinks we¡¯re going to do?¡± said Simole.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± said Nic. ¡°Probably not what we end up doing.¡±


    ¡°Which is what?¡± asked Simole.


    Nic looked at her, then at the unmoving couple. ¡°Do you know how to ride a horse?¡±


    ¡°I know how to ride a dragon. Can¡¯t be that much different.¡±


    Nic couldn¡¯t help think maybe it was, but he was getting ahead of himself. ¡°So, how do we¡­ Just dive in?¡±


    Simole approached their new hosts and leaned forward so she was eye to eye with the young woman. ¡°Hey, you know what would be fun?¡±


    ¡°I refuse.¡±


    She straightened up and turned to face him. ¡°You don¡¯t even know what I was going to say.¡±


    ¡°That we swap genders.¡±


    Simole¡¯s shoulders drooped a little. ¡°What¡¯s wrong with that?¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t have time for fun, Simole.¡±


    ¡°You sound like my father. Planning on being Archmage one day?¡±


    Nic looked past Simole and appraised the man. His chest was moving; shallow breaths. He looked a bit taller than Nic, although it was hard to tell by how much with him sitting. A few years older. ¡°Male and female physiology is sufficiently different that it would probably take time to acclimatise. I¡¯d rather not have to relearn how to balance my body while I¡¯m trying to stop myself falling off a horse.¡±


    ¡°Men and women aren¡¯t that different,¡± said Simole.


    He looked at the woman. She was smaller very slight of build, but her hands were just as calloused as the man¡¯s. ¡°We have markedly different weight distribution.¡±


    Simole¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°Where were you looking when you said that?¡±


    Nic touched the seated man on the chest. It was different to how it felt when he¡¯d touched the old man earlier. There was less resistance here. His fingers slid effortlessly through the shirt and into something that made his fingertips tingle, pulling him in.


    ¡°I think they¡¯re in some kind of Arcanum-induced coma.¡±


    Simole did the same with her host. ¡°Yes. I¡¯m surprised they aren¡¯t dead. Do you think they volunteered?¡±


    Nic didn¡¯t really want to think about it. However they had ended up in this state, they were here. He lifted his hand to his face and moved it from side to side. It left blue dust in its wake.


    ¡°We¡¯re going to fall apart without a source of Arcanum, aren¡¯t we?¡± said Simole. She was waving her own hand about, to similar effect.


    ¡°Eventually. I¡¯m not sure how long it would take for us to lose complete cohesion, but I think they¡¯ve been prepared to keep us going until we can get back to our own bodies.¡±


    Nic took hold of the back of the man¡¯s neck and leaned in like he was going for a kiss. Their heads collided, or didn¡¯t, and Nic felt himself falling. It was a familiar sensation by now.


    He opened his eyes and instantly wanted to throw up. The room was spinning. He tried to stand up, but only managed it on the third attempt. His host was much taller than him. It made him feel like he was about to topple over.


    The woman who had been sitting beside him skipped past. She twirled and danced, her dress flying up and falling down in a hypnotic fashion.


    ¡°Not bad,¡± said Simole. The voice wasn¡¯t hers, but the tone somehow was.


    Nic was still struggling to stay upright. ¡°Does everything come easily to you?¡±


    Simole stopped dancing and smiled. Even with someone else¡¯s lips, she could communicate her dark nature. ¡°Envious of those born with talent?¡±


    Nic slowly walked forward. ¡°Yes,¡± he said.


    Her smile broadened, the malice receding. ¡°And so you should be. Let¡¯s go.¡± She grabbed his hand and yanked him towards the door.


    ¡°Hey, easy. I¡¯m going to fall.¡±


    She stopped and held up their clasped hands. ¡°Look, matching rings.¡± Both hands had a gold ring. ¡°I think we¡¯re married.¡±


    Both rings had the same engraved design. ¡°Looks like it,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°You know what we could do?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± It wasn¡¯t a prompt, it was a refusal.


    ¡°We¡¯re married!¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think she would appreciate it.¡±


    ¡°Who? Your true love?¡±


    ¡°No, the woman whose body you¡¯re borrowing.¡± He tottered forward, holding onto Simole for balance.


    ¡°Not even slightly tempted by the offer?¡±


    ¡°It isn¡¯t an offer. Teasing me is just your coping mechanism in stressful situations.¡±


    ¡°And what¡¯s your coping mechanism? Concentrating on how to save the world so you don¡¯t have to think about what¡¯s really important?¡± She dropped his hand and spun around, her dress spiralling about her, opening the door and exiting while he slowly hobbled after her.


    ¡°No,¡± he muttered to himself as he watched the door swing closed. ¡°Concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other.¡± He staggered forward. The door opened for him as he approached it and he nearly fell because he wasn¡¯t expecting it to. Simole¡¯s grabbed him from behind and pulled him back to an upright position.


    The old man had two horses hitched to a cart full of crates. Nic was relieved. He hadn¡¯t driven a cart before, either, but it had to be easier than trying to ride a horse for the first time.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    ¡°Oh. Yes. I see. Very good.¡± The man stared at them, clearly afraid of the sorcery he was witnessing. He shook himself out of it and hurried to help Simole into the cart. She ignored him and climbed up by herself.


    Nic found it much more difficult, his feet refusing to align themselves with the wooden board he needed to step on. The man watched him for a moment, then assisted him by holding his elbow. It steadied him enough so he could climb aboard, although he was facing the wrong way. Simole twisted him around and he fell onto the seat with a thump.


    The man put the reins in Nic¡¯s hands. Simole took them from him, which Nic was thankful about. He looked down at the worried face of their fearful provider.


    ¡°You¡¯re Rin Casterman, and that¡¯s your wife, Simmy,¡± he said, handing Nic a folded piece of paper. ¡°This is the manifest. You¡¯re to transport this wine to the Royal College. General shipments have all been cancelled on account of the troubles, but you shouldn¡¯t have any trouble.¡± He spoke quickly, trying to force out as much information in the shortest amount of time. ¡°It¡¯s their special delivery, they¡¯ll let you through ¡ª no one questions the Royal College¡¯s seal.¡± Nic inspected the paper thrust into his hand. The red stamp of the college looked real, but he had only ever seen it in books. ¡°Follow this road out of town and all the way to the border. There¡¯ll be guards, of course. I¡¯m not sure what you¡¯re to do after they let you through, but the capital is north, and well signposted. I imagine you could get there in a day or so. There¡¯s food and blankets under the seat.¡±


    Nic bent forward to look under the seat, and almost tipped out of the cart. Simole pulled him back.


    The man looked over at Simole. ¡°I¡­ I don¡¯t mean to impose ¡ª it¡¯s a great service you would do us to bring down those wretched mages ¡ª but the woman you inhabit, young Simmy, she¡¯s my own daughter. Chose to do this of her own free will, ready to make the sacrifice if need be, but if you could see your way to letting her survive this, I would be eternally in your debt.¡±


    The fear Nic had sensed, could hardly have missed, was not so much from the presence of supernatural forces, but the fear of a father for his child.


    ¡°You realise,¡± said Simole, ¡°whoever is master after all this is over, the lives of people like you will most likely be unchanged? They may even get worse.¡±


    ¡°We are ready to fight,¡± said the man. ¡°And die. War is not our desire, but sometimes it is the price that has to be paid.¡±


    ¡°You will lose any direct confrontation,¡± said Simole.


    ¡°Is there no chance for the weak to overthrow the strong, my lady?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s always a chance,¡± said Nic. ¡°A small one.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll take it. Good luck to you, also.¡± He slapped the horse on its rump and it started forward. ¡°And switch drivers before the checkpoint. They¡¯ll be suspicious if they see a woman driving.¡±


    Simole snapped the reins to get the horses moving faster. ¡°Peasants,¡± she muttered under her breath.


    ¡°I think it was the Ranvar soldiers he was referring to,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°I know, so was I,¡± said Simole.


    It took Simole very little time to become a proficient cart driver. As with most things, she was a natural.


    The road was long and dusty, but remarkably flat and smooth. Being close to the border with Ranvar didn¡¯t really tell them much about where they were, exactly, but at least the route was direct. There was no traffic to impede their progress, and the weather was clear.


    Neither spoke for the first part of the journey. They both knew speculation was pointless. Their approach would be guided by the nature of the obstacles they encountered. Their goal was to get to the Royal College, but after that¡­ It was a less than ideal operation. Nic wanted time to think through the options, but he would have needed to know what they were, first. He still felt he was being pulled along by a lead, but there wasn¡¯t much he could do about it. If he was a pawn in someone else¡¯s game, he was hardly in a position to thwart their plans. Pawns were pawns for a reason.


    If anything, he was only here to deliver the demon. As this body had been prepared to house him, he had been prepared to house it. A doll inside a doll inside a doll. For what reason, he couldn¡¯t say, but one demon against all the mages in Ranvar didn¡¯t seem like good odds. Of course, there were more pieces on the game board that he wasn¡¯t even aware of. Why tell the pawn?


    And then there was Simole. As powerful as Winnum Roke had been, she hadn¡¯t been able to take control of the girl born to magic. No one had.


    ¡°What do you know about your mother?¡± he asked her as they rolled forward, and gently side to side.


    ¡°You don¡¯t speak for an hour, and suddenly you want to know all about my private life.¡±


    ¡°Yes. Was she a mage?¡±


    Simole didn¡¯t say anything for a long minute. ¡°How did you know that?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t. But it¡¯s rare for mages to have children. Or to marry. I can¡¯t recall any other Archmage with a family. I assumed it would be a workplace romance.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know how romantic it could have been. Have you met my father?¡±


    ¡°He was young once.¡±


    ¡°Do you have proof?¡±


    ¡°Have you seen a picture of her? Spoken to anyone who met her?¡±


    ¡°She was real, if that¡¯s what you mean. Her name was Esteria Hokern. She wrote a number of papers and treatise. I¡¯ve seen her name on them, so she existed. My father said she died giving birth to me, but that¡¯s probably a lie. Female mages always die giving birth, that¡¯s why they never have families. Why would my mother forfeit her life to have me? It doesn¡¯t make sense. Far more likely she happened to die around the same time I¡­ arrived. Convenient to make out she was my mother when in reality I was probably concocted from some Arcanum experiment.¡±


    ¡°You think you were created by mages?¡±


    ¡°Why not? It¡¯s possible, isn¡¯t it? Would explain a lot.¡±


    ¡°No, I don¡¯t think so. She was probably your mother, although I don¡¯t know why she would risk her life to have you either.¡± He paused to look at her. ¡°I mean¡­¡±


    ¡°I know what you mean.¡±


    ¡°You could do magic when you were a child. So could Winnum Roke. Her mother was a mage, too. She died giving birth to her, same as you. I don¡¯t think that can be a coincidence.¡±


    ¡°How do you know that isn¡¯t the same lie? She could have been a manmade abomination, like me.¡±


    Nic smiled. ¡°We¡¯re all manmade, and you¡¯re hardly an abomination, Simole.¡±


    ¡°If that¡¯s your attempt at flattery, you need more practice.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll set aside some time,¡± said Nic. ¡°You could be right, but it¡¯s hard to fake a pattern. The truth always seems to have an excess of unnecessary pieces. I think you and Winnum Roke were the children of mages, and they didn¡¯t want either of you around.¡±


    ¡°My father?¡±


    ¡°Your father, the other mages, the college. I¡¯m not sure how they come to their decisions, but I don¡¯t think they want you anywhere near the Royal College.¡±


    ¡°So that¡¯s why we¡¯re going there?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s why we¡¯re going there.¡±


    There was a loud scream, definitely not human, from some distance away. The horses shied and Simole had to pull hard on the reins to stop them shifting sideways off the road.


    ¡°That was a dragon,¡± said Simole, peering up at the empty sky.


    Nic stood up and shielded his eyes with his hand. ¡°Not the All-Father.¡±


    ¡°No. Might be dragon troopers. Looking for us, do you think?¡±


    ¡°I doubt it. Will they be able to recognise you?¡±


    ¡°The dragons? How? I¡¯m just a working woman.¡± She got the horses going again, and Nic fell back to a sitting position.


    ¡°They might recognise your scent.¡±


    Simole leaned over and sniffed him. ¡°We don¡¯t smell like us. You smell¡­¡± She sniffed again. ¡°You smell quite nice, for a change. Clean.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t normally smell clean?¡±


    ¡°You normally smell like a boy. So, no.¡±


    Nic smelled himself, the danger of dragons subsiding in the face of this latest revelation. ¡°I wish someone had told me.¡±


    ¡°Oh, do you think that¡¯s what¡¯s been holding you back? To think, all this time, love was just a bath away.¡±


    ¡°Your coping mechanism won¡¯t stop a dragon from eating you, you know?¡±


    ¡°Not going to happen,¡± said Simole. ¡°Dragons love me. They¡¯ll do what I tell them.¡±


    ¡°Not if they don¡¯t recognise you.¡±


    She was silent after that.


    The border appeared a couple of hours later, a wooden fence stretching in each direction either side of the road. Soldiers stood guard, Nic counted at least six. But beyond them was a camp of far more. And with them, a host of dragons, sitting on the grass, preening themselves.


    The cart trundled closer at a leisurely pace.


    ¡°How do they reproduce?¡± asked Nic.


    ¡°Dragons? I¡¯m not sure. They don¡¯t lay eggs, if that¡¯s what you think.¡±


    ¡°Have you ever seen a young dragon?¡±


    ¡°Actually, I haven¡¯t,¡± said Simole. But their lifespans are far greater than ours.¡±


    ¡°What about mating?¡±


    ¡°In sight of the soldiers? A bit forward of you, Nic, but I suppose if you can¡¯t restrain yourself any longer.¡±


    ¡°I meant the dragons,¡± said Nic, wishing there was a way to control blushing.


    ¡°You really think I¡¯d be allowed to see that? I¡¯m at an impressionable age. It might give me expectations that could never be met.¡±


    Nic laughed. Simole smiled and this time she meant it, her face taking on a beauty that shone through the mask she wore.


    ¡°Wait,¡± she said. ¡°If the All-Father became a dragon, where did the other dragons come from? He didn¡¯t give birth to them, did he?¡±


    ¡°Winnum Roke told us that story, so I¡¯m not sure if it¡¯s entirely accurate,¡± said Nic. ¡°It felt like a construct handed to her at one time.¡±


    ¡°A construct?¡±


    ¡°Facts taken apart and reassembled to make something else. It¡¯s like taking a mosaic apart and placing the pieces to make a different picture. It¡¯s still true to its purpose, just not the purpose its originator had in mind.¡±


    ¡°So a lie.¡±


    ¡°Not exactly.¡±


    ¡°A good lie.¡±


    ¡°Kind of.¡±


    ¡°Say yes.¡±


    ¡°But¡ª¡±


    ¡°Say it. Say it right now. Say it.¡±


    ¡°Yes, okay? Yes, a lie. Happy?¡±


    ¡°Almost never. You better take the reins.¡± She handed him the reins.


    Nic immediately felt out of his element, the reins limp in his hands. He had no idea what to do with them. The horses stopped. She grabbed him by the wrist, and shook. The horses moved forward.


    As they approached the checkpoint the guards stiffened, and more appeared, so there were almost a dozen waiting for them. Nic had no idea what the latest developments were at the school, or if the situation with Gweur had escalated. He had to hope their disguise held and the papers they were carrying were authentic. Even Simole would have trouble blasting her way through a troop of dragon riders.


    One of the guards came forward, arm raised, motioning for them to come closer. He directed them just past the entrance into Ranvar, and then indicated for them to stop. ¡°I¡¯ll need to see your papers.¡± Unlike the sharply dressed soldiers watching, his face was that of a mildly bored veteran, his uniform worn and shabby. He had the air of someone who had been manning this checkpoint for years.


    Simole handed over the manifest they¡¯d been given, and the guard looked it over. None of the other soldiers had come forward. They milled around like men who had nothing better to do. Behind them, dragons snorted and stretched their wings as troopers tended to them, oiling their scales or brushing their tails with brooms. The view was both fantastical and mundane.


    ¡°Yes, this seems fine,¡± said the guard. ¡°Royal College, huh? I imagine it¡¯s the good stuff. We¡¯ve been expecting you, actually. Delayed, were you?¡±


    Nic nodded.


    It occurred to Nic that they might need to give a bribe. They had no money, as far as he knew. He checked his pockets and found nothing.


    ¡°Just need to test a small sample. Can¡¯t be sending soured wine to the Royal College.¡± He suddenly had a wooden cup in his hand. He walked around to the back of the cart and lifted a bottle out of one of the crates. He popped the cork out expertly, and poured out a small amount.


    The other soldiers crowded closer. Did they plan to rob them of their cargo?


    The guard saw them coming and waved them away. ¡°Here, back off. This is official business. This is for the Royal College. You see this seal?¡± He waved the paper about, too fast for anyone to be able to read anything. ¡°What you think those mages will do to you if you filch their grog? Away with you.¡±


    The threat was enough to scare them off. Bored and listless they might be, but they knew better than to draw the ire of mages.


    The guard tasted the wine, and then replaced the cork and put the bottle back. ¡°Ah, nice. Lucky men, those mages.¡± He scribbled something on the manifest and handed it back. It had gone smoother than Nic had expected. Now they just had to make it through the camp, find the road to the capital, and hope to get there before nightfall.


    The soldiers were still standing around, eyeing the bottles of wine so close at hand, and yet out of reach.


    Simole took his arm in hers and squeezed herself closer, doing her best impression of a dutiful wife, he supposed.


    The guard noticed. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about the dragons. Harmless, as long as they¡¯ve been fed. Haha, a jest. Tell your wife to be at ease. These troopers know how to handle these beasts.¡±


    Nic nodded and shook his wrists. The horses didn¡¯t move. Simole slipped her hands over his and pulled on the reins with her fingers. The horses immediately set off.


    As soon as they entered the camp, dragons began to sit up and take notice. Simole hunched even closer, making it hard for Nic to guide the horses, not that he was doing a very good job to start with. There was a road, but the camp was encroaching it on both sides, and the horses had to weave their way through it.


    The dragons settled down again as they passed.


    Stop.


    Nick pulled on the reins.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± Simole whispered into his ear.


    There is no time for crawling along roads, little one. Why crawl when we can fly?


    ¡°She says we should take the dragons,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°Great idea,¡± said Simole. ¡°I¡¯m sure the army won¡¯t mind lending us a couple.¡±


    The dragons were up on their haunches again, their riders whistling and trying to get their attention. The other soldiers began to get nervous at the lack of success the dragon experts were having. The dragons began coming closer, knocking over tents and dragging their handlers with them.


    ¡°Stop attracting them,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°I¡¯m not doing anything.¡±


    ¡°Do less.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not me they¡¯re coming for.¡±


    She was right, he could feel it. They were targeting him. Not him, the demon. He could feel the presence growing in him, and so could they.


    The horses started to panic. Nic jumped down and grabbed a couple of bottles. ¡°It¡¯s the wine,¡± he called out, holding up the bottles like an offering. Did dragons drink wine? Probably not.


    Simole copied him, also holding up a bottle in pretence. ¡°Oh,¡± she said as she drew alongside him. ¡°I see.¡±


    The soldiers had all fled, only the riders continued to try and arrest the advance, with little success. Simole walked forward to meet them. Shouts warned her to keep away.


    The lead dragon lowered its head towards her. She reached up and touched its snout, and then she fell, lifeless. Her body didn¡¯t move.


    The dragon raised its head and let out a piercing scream. The other dragons answered in kind.


    Nic was frozen. A voice was telling him to go forward, but his feet refused. The dragon lowered its head again, its relentlessly fanged mouth open. The chin touched the side of his face. The teeth pinched his shoulder and picked him up. The teeth pressed against his flesh, but didn¡¯t pierce the clothes or skin. He was lifted into the air and then placed back down on the other side of the tents. The dragon¡¯s head turned to one side and an eye looked at him. It seemed amused.


    ¡°Simole?¡±


    Another dragon nudged him from behind. He turned, almost falling, and put out his hand to steady himself. When he touched the dragon, the sensation was like when he¡¯d first touched his current host, but magnified many times. He was drawn inexorably forward, falling from a great height. This was different. This was like coming home.


    He looked to the side. Simole spread her wings and lifted off the ground. He did the same. They were both airborne, flying, soaring. It was ridiculously exhilarating. He wanted to laugh. His mouth opened and a joyous scream tumbled out of him.


    Below them, chaos reigned. More dragons took off, answering his call, following them, riderless.


    Now, little one, now we are ready to face the All-Father.

 Chapter Fifty One

    The two boys struggled to get Nic¡¯s body down the ladder. They would have struggled even if he¡¯d been conscious and able to assist a little ¡ª tilt his head, tuck in his arms ¡ª but as dead-weight, he was like jelly running through their fingers.


    Dizzy felt frustrated watching them, but she had too many other concerns to worry about their lack of common sense. At least while they made a poor job of getting Nic down into the library, she had a chance to review her options. There might not be time to make a considered choice later, so she needed to use this time efficiently. What were her options? What were the likely obstacles? Who were her targets?


    Her father was dead, she was fairly sure of that. Not only did the evidence suggest it was highly likely ¡ª his wraiths were completely unreachable ¡ª she also had a sense of it at a deeper level. She had never been one to put much faith in the power of emotional ties, but if Arcanum had bridged the difference in their abilities to allow her control of some of his creations, then it wasn¡¯t too far a stretch to imagine she would be able to sense when that bridge collapsed. It was gone, he was gone, she knew it.


    It was a devastating loss, but not one she had time to indulge. The gnawing sensation in her gut she identified as grief wasn¡¯t going to help her, so she had to ignore it. The harder she pushed it away, the more she wanted to lie down, get closer to the ground, let her body uncoil, and give herself over to the embrace of despair.


    Her nails dug into the hilt of the dagger. Losing focus now would be disastrous. Her father would have never allowed her into this situation, not when she was so far from being ready, but now that she was here, he would be disappointed if she didn¡¯t make her presence count. Thinking about what to do only gave you less time to do it. At a time like this, what you had to rely on was momentum. Keep moving; it didn¡¯t matter if you were wrong, only that you were building up speed. Stop, and you might never be able to get going again.


    She forced her brows, knit together in concentration, to separate, relax. Her father had prepared her for this. He had known eventually she would be forced to operate without his assistance, so he had started her early. She had always known it. His reluctance to aid her, to spend time with her, to give her even the smallest compliment or encouragement, those weren¡¯t the acts of a kind father. They were the acts of a great teacher.


    She wasn¡¯t ready, yet, she knew that. But she was better prepared for this situation than anyone in the immediate vicinity. Her actions could make all the difference. What she decided to do, and what she decided to stop.


    ¡°This is a bit tricky,¡± said Fanny with only his head poking up through the floor, and Nic¡¯s forehead awkwardly resting on his shoulder. ¡°Do you want to swap places?¡± His face was red and his exhaling breath made a strange whistling sound as it escaped from his nose.


    ¡°No,¡± said Davo, who had Nic¡¯s feet. He looked annoyed, holding onto Nic like he was trying to thread him through the eye of a needle, his breath also laboured, his normally slicked-back hair flopping over his eyes.


    At this rate they could end up stuck here while the rest of Ranvar dealt with the matter. Would that be the worst outcome? At least the Librarian would be unable to interfere.


    She stood watching, an inscrutable smile on her pale face, not a hair out of place. Not human. Not demon. What was she, then? What else was there?


    The boys looked to the Librarian for help, already in her sway. She didn¡¯t even need to use magic on them.


    ¡°Get out of there,¡± Dizzy said to Fanny, a sharp wave of her hand telling him to move. ¡°You¡¯re going to drop him on his head. It¡¯s about the only part of him worth something.¡±


    Both the boys shot angry scowls at her, their faces even redder than from their exertion. Good, they could use a little more blood flowing to their brains.


    She was sure of one thing ¡ª sitting out a fight didn¡¯t get you anywhere. If you won, you earned nothing. If you lost, you earned nothing.


    ¡°We don¡¯t have the time for this,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯ll do it.¡±


    They looked wary of her, but not doubtful. At least they accepted her abilities, if not her good intentions.


    Davo pulled Nic away from the opening, dragging his face along the floor. Fanny huffed and snorted trying to get back into the room.


    ¡°No,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°Go down.¡±


    Fanny looked bereft, as though he was being sent home early from the party. She had no patience for his insecurities and feigned descending the ladder herself. He quickly put his anxiety to one side, and scurried down to avoid her boot stamping on his fingers.


    Dizzy brought her dipping foot out of the opening, and took two steps to stand over Nic. She bent down to slip her hands under Nic¡¯s arms. She yanked him up, his feet slipping out of Davo¡¯s hold, and heaved him over her shoulder. His face shot past hers, and for an instant they were nose to nose. His eyes were open, but vacant. Then he was just a weight on her back.


    She walked over to the opening, and stepped into it.


    There was no need to use the ladder on the way down. She didn¡¯t bother to check if the fat boy had stepped clear. Either he had, and she would hit the landing hard, or he hadn¡¯t, and she¡¯d hit it a lot softer.


    Her boots met solid ground, her knees bent the necessary amount to compensate for the extra weight, and she straightened. Nic remained flopped over her shoulder.


    ¡°Is he alright?¡± asked Davo, his face peering down at them.


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Fanny from behind her. ¡°I think so. He looks the same.¡±


    Momentum. She kept moving through the library, down the stairs, to the back office. She kicked the door open, tilted forward, and let Nic fall off her, onto a chair. He landed on the seat, but the lack of any tension in his body meant he was going to slip right off. She raised her boot and placed it on the seat between his legs, stopping his downward slide.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± cried out Davo.


    She looked at his horrified face, then down at her boot in Nic¡¯s crotch.


    ¡°Be quiet,¡± she said, not feeling the need to explain her every move. She took her foot away. Nic remained seated, momentum gone. ¡°Where¡¯s the Librarian.¡±


    ¡°Here,¡± said the Librarian, entering from behind Davo, Fanny eagerly following like a pet on a leash. ¡°We will need to get to the edge of the barrier.¡±


    ¡°You can raise it?¡± asked Dizzy.


    ¡°Yes,¡± said the Librarian. She looked out of the window. ¡°We need to wait a few minutes.¡±


    ¡°Wait for what?¡± said Dizzy.


    ¡°The right moment. Can you manage with Mr Tutt?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Dizzy, ¡°but I¡¯m not entirely sure why I should have to. You¡¯re one of them, aren¡¯t you? Yes, yes, you aren¡¯t a demon, you use trinkets to perform marvellous feats, it¡¯s very impressive, but you share some of their abilities, don¡¯t you?¡± The Librarian nodded. ¡°Then animate his body and make it follow you. I imagine it¡¯s something you¡¯re good at.¡± She gave Fanny a withering glare before returning her gaze to the unflinching Librarian. ¡°I would rather conserve my strength for other things.¡±


    She kept her eyes locked on the Librarian¡¯s, watching carefully. There was little chance the Librarian would do as she was told, but the manner of refusal often revealed something about a person.


    ¡°You could do it, if you wanted to,¡± Dizzy said very plainly, ¡°couldn¡¯t you?¡±


    The two boys were looking at the Librarian, expecting an answer. Good. None of them had the ability to overpower her, but maybe they could still wring a few answers from her with the weight of simple expectation.


    Demons were susceptible to it, she knew. They wanted you to think they had the answer. It strengthened them, solidified their faith in their own abilities. Being able to manufacture truths made them arrogant. It was one of their many weaknesses. Even if this wasn¡¯t a demon, it was from the same mould. A disposable copy would exhibit the same traits.


    ¡°Yes,¡± said the Librarian. ¡°I could assume control of his body. But it would be highly discourteous. I would never do such a thing without his permission.¡±


    What was this? An attempt to appear sympathetic? Principled? Judging by the way the two boys were looking at her with moony faces, the ploy was being well-received.


    ¡°I give you permission,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°No one knows what he would want better than me.¡±


    That earned her a raise of one eyebrow.


    ¡°What are you talking about, you deluded harpy?¡± said Davo, voicing his outrage in no uncertain terms. ¡°You have no say in what happens to his body. I thought we were clear on this. He isn¡¯t your property. Even a servant deserves better consideration.¡±


    This was starting to irritate her. ¡°A servant does, yes. But he isn¡¯t a servant. He doesn¡¯t have those sorts of rights. You may not think I have the power to decide what happens to him, but make no mistake, if he had the chance to assign ownership of his vacant body, he would hand it over to me.¡±


    Davo rolled his eyes so hard his whole head rocked back. He didn¡¯t believe her. The arrogance of the ignorant. Her father had spoken about it often. In a country where people gained authority by birthright, you had to expect people to assume they deserved to be where they were, because nothing had proved otherwise.


    The only way to dissuade them of that notion was to provide them with the otherwise they believed didn¡¯t exist.


    But there was a flipside to that coin. A soldier who rose from private to general, whose armies were victorious, you could give credit for the win. A commander put in place by a powerful family, given the pick of the finest troops and advisors, might also be a genius on the battlefield, but how would you know?


    Before she could show Davo his desire to protect Nic was unnecessary, she would have to convince him her authority was valid. He had seen Nic prove his worth. She was just the daughter of a well-positioned Minister.


    ¡°You think I feel nothing for him? That he¡¯s a pitiful waif pining for some unrequited love? I feel everything for him. Everything. And he knows it. Do you really think he would pursue me so relentlessly if he didn¡¯t already know how I felt? Do you really believe he got his calculations wrong?¡±


    Davo¡¯s face, held rigid in a state of determined defiance, buckled. He didn¡¯t believe her, yet, but he was beginning to doubt himself.


    ¡°The way you feel about someone is immaterial when it comes to shaping the world we live in. This isn¡¯t a fairytale where the good, good people fight the bad, bad people. The princess immediately falls in all-consuming love with the endlessly brave prince and they live happily ever after. You think that¡¯s the ultimate goal? What is your ambition, Davo? Open a new branch of your father¡¯s store in Gweur or Francome? Wealth? Family?¡± She spoke with as much disdain as she could gather, which was easily done. ¡°So what if I have feelings for him? What if I want more than that? It doesn¡¯t mean I don¡¯t care for him, it means there are some things more important than being happy.¡± She let the words sink in. ¡°Can you grasp that? Can you see beyond the profit margin on your balance books?¡±


    The two boys looked at each other, confused. They didn¡¯t understand. They couldn¡¯t envision a need for reaching beyond the things they¡¯d always been told were the most enviable of goals.


    ¡°He could have done it. I don¡¯t doubt, given the time, and a lack of distraction, he could have convinced me to give up my dreams for him. That¡¯s part of the reason I did my best to keep him away. But there were distractions. Big ones. We both knew where our priorities lay. Where we were needed. We¡¯re the same. We¡¯re not interested in other people¡¯s stories, other than as a curiosity to take apart and put back together. Do you know why people find stories so engaging? Because they¡¯re written to please the simple-minded. Magic that shapes reality into sweet confections for the drooling masses, like you.¡±


    Fanny¡¯s face had paled, his eyes enormous. Davo was stiff as an iron rod. Both looked ready to throw themselves in front of Nic¡¯s body, to save him from her.


    ¡°Fools like you, and her.¡± She pointed at the Librarian, who showed no reaction, as expected. ¡°They think making dreams come true is some kind of pinnacle to be mounted. That faith is worth venerating. That¡¯s why we beat them. That¡¯s why we¡¯ll always beat them.¡± She saw the questions in the boys¡¯ eyes. They wanted to doubt her words. What was her source? Who did she take her answers from? ¡°What? You don¡¯t think I studied the history of our people? You don¡¯t think I was curious about how we defeated a race a thousand times more powerful than us? You seem to think Nic¡¯s superiority over you must mean his superiority over me. Everything he knows, I know. The only difference is that I can also climb a rope and hit a target with a knife at twenty metres.¡±If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    ¡°He beat you in the mocks,¡± said Fanny in a muttered whisper.


    ¡°Yes. And he will always beat me in a written exam. That¡¯s how he thinks. He likes to collect as many answers from as many experts, living or dead, as he can, and then he looks for the better answer none of them managed to find because they never had the chance to meet each other. It¡¯s an excellent strategy if you have the luxury of time and only the inconsequence of school exams to worry about. In the real world, that isn¡¯t feasible. There are already people who did everything you are setting out to do before you were even born. You won¡¯t catch up by racing them. And there are people who have access to materials you don¡¯t even know exist. And most critically, there are creatures like her, who know the source of what you seek because they were actually there when it happened. You can¡¯t outlearn them.¡±


    ¡°Then what?¡± said Davo.


    ¡°You have to outplay them. Outfight them. Outthink them. You take what you know, evaluate the risks, and extrapolate.¡±


    ¡°You guess?¡± said Fanny.


    ¡°You can call it that. But you act. You affect their choices by being involved. As soon as they have to take you into account, their preparations, no matter how many millennia old, are diminished.¡±


    It was all so infuriating. She turned to the Librarian. ¡°I know I wasn¡¯t ready. At least another three years, maybe more if my father had his way. But I was still the person you should have sent.¡±


    ¡°You would have failed,¡± said the Librarian, so matter-of-factly it stung. ¡°It is time. Be careful with his body. He¡¯ll want it back undamaged.¡±


    ¡°Then make him walk,¡± said Dizzy.


    Nic stood up. His eyes were open, but there was no life in them. He walked stiffly to the door, and bumped into it face first. He bounced back a few steps and did it again.


    ¡°I¡¯m a little rusty,¡± said the Librarian.


    Davo hurriedly jumped in front of Nic, and opened the door for him. This time Nic walked out. The others followed.


    It was the same empty sky overhead. The same still night with no sounds. Dizzy scanned the area between them and the Pagoda. The Secret Service agents had made no intervention. She had to assume they weren¡¯t going to.


    As they walked in single file, Nic¡¯s empty body leading them, a sound caught her attention. A shuffling walk.


    ¡°Someone¡¯s coming,¡± she said.


    The Librarian stopped, and so did Nic. She raised a hand to indicate that Dizzy shouldn¡¯t do anything. Dizzy tensed, prepared to make that decision herself, depending on what there were about to face.


    A figure came staggering towards them. The gait was familiar. It was the same way Nic was walking.


    ¡°Mr Denkne,¡± said Fanny. ¡°Are you alri¡­¡± The words died on his lips.


    As he approached, it was clear he was not alright. His mouth was gagged, his hands and arms were contorted, his eyes were lifeless. He moved like a grotesque puppet. He walked past Dizzy without reacting to her, even though his injuries had been caused by her. He went to the head of the line, next to Nic. The difference between the two was noticeable.


    ¡°He¡¯ll be fine,¡± said the Librarian.


    ¡°I think he¡¯s dead,¡± said Fanny.


    ¡°Yes,¡± said the Librarian, ¡°but he¡¯ll be fine.¡±


    The line began to move again. They were heading for the wooded area behind the Pagoda. As they walked through the trees, light from the lanterns around the Pagoda faded. The Librarian¡¯s bracelet began to glow, providing enough light to see by.


    Fanny and Davo stumbled a few times, but Dizzy, all the way in the back, never lost her footing. After several minutes the trees thinned and it was possible to see the barrier ahead of them. The darkness above them extended down to the ground, making it impossible to see what was outside the school grounds. It ended within the school walls.


    There was a clearing here. The Librarian stopped the procession. Her bracelet glowed brighter.


    She put out her hand and placed it on the barrier. It reacted to her touch, splitting open in a line that stretched towards the top of the dome..


    ¡°You¡¯re separating the field?¡± asked Fanny, his voice filled with fascination.


    ¡°It is impenetrable vertically,¡± said the Librarian. ¡°But horizontally, you can part it like a curtain. It pushes itself apart.¡±


    ¡°Like magnets?¡± asked Fanny.


    ¡°A little. The effect is not quite so binary.¡±


    Fanny turned to Davo. ¡°We don¡¯t have anything like this.¡±


    Davo took a moment to consider Fanny¡¯s words. ¡°This isn¡¯t the Archmage¡¯s doing?¡±


    Fanny shook his head. ¡°I don¡¯t think so.¡±


    ¡°You put up this barrier?¡± Dizzy said to the Librarian. ¡°To stop the demons coming here?¡±


    ¡°There are no demons to stop. They are already here. They have been for some time. It was to keep people out, to keep them busy.¡±


    The barrier parted like a curtain, as she had said it would. The outside world peered in. Nothing seemed to have changed while they had been locked away.


    ¡°If you put it up, you could have taken it down anytime,¡± said Dizzy.


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Then what were we waiting for?¡±


    ¡°It is not enough to act,¡± said the Librarian. ¡°You have to know when. And be willing to wait.¡±


    Davo snorted. ¡°That¡¯s a lot easier when you¡¯re nearly immortal.¡±


    ¡°Yes, we are, nearly. But so are you,¡± said the Librarian. ¡°You have children. It¡¯s why we came here.¡±


    Dizzy felt a chill. What did that mean? ¡°Who are you? What are you? You say you aren¡¯t a demon, and I believe you. But then what else?


    The Librarian said nothing.


    ¡°You value the truth so much, yet you keep it hidden, like you¡¯re ashamed of it. Do you think a lie is so different from a secret? Both are hiding the truth.¡±


    ¡°Some truths aren¡¯t important,¡± said the Librarian. ¡°They only make things harder to understand.¡±


    ¡°And some things are too hard to admit. Because then they can be shown to be false,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°At least tell me this. Are you the All-Mother?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said the Librarian without hesitation. ¡°I am nothing so grand. I came here to fulfil a task, and I think I am close to completing it. I have had to wait for the right moment, and finally¡ª¡±


    ¡°Did it not occur to you that the person being misled here is you?¡± said Dizzy. ¡°That this moment, where you have everything ready to complete your ¡®task¡¯ is really just a pretence? Look who you have to wield as your tools. A girl not yet ready, two boys who can barely walk and talk at the same time¡ª¡±


    ¡°Hey!¡±


    ¡°Can, too.¡±


    ¡°¡ªand a couple of empty vessels. What kind of fighting force is that? As much as your kind is adept at arranging for people to think they have made their own choice in getting to where you wanted them, haven¡¯t you succumbed to the same? Somewhere, there is someone placing you in this position, making you think it is all your own idea. Do you really think you have reached your desired goal with us at your back? You planned so long to get here, with us? This is your grand scheme? Where are your demons? Where is the army you raised to sweep away those who stand in your way?¡±


    ¡°Um,¡± said Fanny. He was pointing up in the sky. ¡°I think that might be them, now.¡±


    She looked up, and from above them, a host of dragons descended. They had no riders, although many had saddles. There were at least a dozen of them, and they were a fearsome sight.


    They came one after the other, landing with hardly a sound. Dizzy grabbed onto the hilt of her dagger, even though she knew it would do her no good. She had a very clear understanding of what it took to pierce those scales. A greater power than anything her arms could muster.


    These were not the mere steeds of officers she had seen so many times before. These had become something else. Changed or revealed, it was hard to say, but something wild and unfettered. Had this been the secret? Had they been waiting within plain sight all this time?


    The Librarian didn¡¯t move. She didn¡¯t speak. The dragons surrounded her. They crowded around her, bowing to her.


    The Librarian tapped one on the head, and it waddled forward, ungainly and terrifying. It stopped in front of Denkne, opened its mouth without making any noise, and lowered its jaws over his head. The jaws closed around Denkne¡¯s waist.


    The dragon lifted its head, the neck stretching upwards. The mouth opened, and Denkne¡¯s legs slid out of view. The bulge in the dragon¡¯s neck slowly worked its way down.


    The three of them watched. What else could they do?


    ¡°You¡­ you said he¡¯d be fine,¡± whispered Fanny.


    ¡°He is,¡± said the Librarian. If she was making a joke, she gave away no sign of it in her expression.


    Another of the dragons came towards Dizzy. She refused to back away. Her mind was blanking on her. There was no good way to defeat a dragon. She stood her ground as the large head lowered towards her. The teeth were so large, they didn¡¯t even fit inside the mouth, bursting out the sides. The eyes¡­ the eyes were not those of a wild beast. They were not dangerous.


    The dragon pressed the top of its head against her body, a gentle push. It almost felt like a greeting. But then she was out of the way and it was moving again. Towards Nic.


    She realised she had just been in the way. It wanted Nic¡¯s body. Was he next on the menu? She couldn¡¯t allow it.


    She threw herself between them, arms spread out. How was she going to stop this monster? The only way to fight off a dragon was with another dragon. She had no answers, she could only hope she¡¯d find one before she was added as the appetiser.


    The dragon stopped. It lowered its head again, and tried to nudge her aside. At least it wasn¡¯t trying to kill her. Was it friendly? It didn¡¯t matter. Whatever it had in mind for Nic couldn¡¯t be in his best interest. She refused to give way.


    Another dragon appeared next to it. With a simple bump of bodies, the first dragon was barged aside. And then the new dragon lunged at her. There was no gentle prodding with this one. Teeth descended in an open jaw.


    There was nothing she could do. She lashed out with her dagger, but it proved as pointless as she¡¯d imagined. Even less. Her extended arm was caught between teeth like it had been clamped in a vice. With the merest of flicks, she was flying through the air.


    She was able to twist in flight, and landed in a crouch on her hands and feet. She looked up and saw the first dragon drop its chin on Nic¡¯s head. A slight nod, and Nic would be crushed.


    The dragon¡¯s head lifted away, and Nic fell onto his backside, sitting on the ground. He shook his head and looked around, one hand scratching an ear, one leg bent at the knee. It was such a familiar pose to her, it left no room for doubt that it was really him.


    ¡°Nic?¡± she said. ¡°You were the dragon?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± he said. ¡°Didn¡¯t you recognise me?¡±


    Five seconds back, and he was already annoying her. ¡°Of course not. You were a dragon.¡±


    ¡°I would have recognised you,¡± he said, almost chidingly. Her grip on her dagger tightened.


    The other dragon¡¯s head swung down, teeth bared in what looked like a smile. A thoroughly unpleasant one.


    ¡°Simole,¡± said Nic, ¡°don¡¯t start trouble. We have to go.¡±


    Fanny came running forward. ¡°Simole? Is that you?¡±


    A taloned claw came down on him, slamming him to the ground, pinning him there. The dragon was grinning.


    ¡°It¡¯s her,¡± called out Fanny. ¡°Davo, it¡¯s her.¡±


    Davo came forward, but not very enthusiastically. He turned to Nic. ¡°How did you get here?¡±


    ¡°Actually,¡± said Nic, ¡°we were headed for the Royal College, and then suddenly they all changed direction and came here. Hard to break formation when you¡¯re flying as a team.¡± He smiled. ¡°What about you? Anything happen while I was gone?¡±


    Davo looked at Fanny, then they both looked at Dizzy. She fixed them both in her sights.


    ¡°Um, no,¡± said Fanny, edging behind Davo. ¡°Not really. Denkne got eaten. Oh, but you were here for that.¡± He looked from one dragon to the next. ¡°That wasn¡¯t you, was it?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said Nic. ¡°He wasn¡¯t really eaten.¡±


    ¡°He was reclaimed,¡± said Dizzy.


    Nic stopped and looked at her. The look on his face softened.


    ¡°Don¡¯t do that,¡± she said.


    ¡°Do what?¡±


    ¡°Look like you¡¯re proud of me. I¡¯m not one of them.¡± She nodded towards Davo and Fanny. ¡°I¡¯m not your underling.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve always thought of you as my equal,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°I know,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°That¡¯s what¡¯s so galling.¡±


    Simole snorted, blowing dirt into everyone¡¯s face.


    ¡°Oh, yes,¡± said Nic, brushing himself off. ¡°Anyone know where they put Simole¡¯s body?¡±


    ¡°The Archmage has it,¡± said the Librarian.


    ¡°That¡¯s what we thought,¡± said Nic. ¡°I guess we still need to go to the Royal College. Wait.¡± Nic began gingerly patting himself on the chest like he was checking for his wallet. Then he turned to face the dragon he had recently vacated. ¡°Are you still in there?¡±


    ¡°Of course, little one,¡± said the dragon. ¡°This form is much better for discussing matters with mages. Boys tend to burn too easily. You should stay here.¡±


    ¡°What about her?¡± Nic pointed at the Librarian, who looked like she was sitting in a nest of dragons. ¡°Aren¡¯t you taking her with you?¡±


    The dragon moved towards the Librarian.


    The dragon had spoken. Dragons didn¡¯t speak. She had a detailed knowledge of dragon physiology and they didn¡¯t have a voice box for a start. It was impossible for a dragon to make the necessary sounds. A demon, on the other hand¡­


    The Librarian lifted up her hand, reaching towards the dragon¡¯s snout. The dragon reared away from the touch.


    ¡°You are angry,¡± said the Librarian.


    ¡°I am ready,¡± said the dragon.


    ¡°You always were,¡± said the Librarian.


    ¡°I am ready to free the others.¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t. They need more time.¡±


    ¡°They cheated us,¡± said the dragon, it¡¯s enraged face taking on an almost human quality. No, it was something other than human.


    ¡°No,¡± said the Librarian. ¡°They can only delay. And we can wait. Look.¡± She pointed at Simole. ¡°In the end, they will give us what they agreed to.¡±


    Simole stretched out her wings. She seemed to be bigger than the others.


    The demon-dragon spread its own wings, but then lowered one so it was flat against the ground. The Librarian walked up the wing and sat on the base of the dragon¡¯s neck, ignoring the saddle.


    ¡°We shall see,¡± said the dragon. It took off with a sudden jump, wings retracted. The other dragons launched themselves to follow.


    Nic climbed onto Simole¡¯s back. He did it effortlessly, hopping onto her bent foreleg and into the saddle like he¡¯d been doing it all his life.


    ¡°You should stay here,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°No problem,¡± said Davo.


    ¡°I should check on that girl,¡± said Fanny. ¡°What was her name again?¡±


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± said Dizzy. ¡°Let her go.¡± She pointed at Simole.


    ¡°I need to see this through. Your father¡­¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± said Dizzy.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. We have to go.¡±


    ¡°I need to see this through, too,¡± said Dizzy. She jumped up and slid in behind him.


    ¡°Good luck, Nic,¡± said Davo.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± said Nic. ¡°The demons and mages will be too focused on each other to bother about me.¡±


    Davo looked at Dizzy. ¡°That¡¯s not what I meant.¡±


    Simole grunted and shook herself like she might throw them both off, and then rose into the air.

 Chapter Fifty Two

    It was a lot colder sitting on a dragon high above the ground than it was being a dragon high above the ground. The wind whipped Nic¡¯s hair back, and chilled his face. He didn¡¯t much feel it.


    Dizzy had her arms around his waist. She was pressed up against his back, the two of them squeezed into a saddle made for one. Her chin was resting on the top of his shoulder, digging into him. When she blinked, her long lashes scraped against his cheek.


    ¡°Do you ever feel like you¡¯re waiting for something to happen,¡± she said, the words falling the short distance to his ear before the wind could steal them, ¡°but you don¡¯t know what it is? A thing that could change your life into something special, purposeful. And finally it arrives... only for a boy to step out and take it away from you.¡±


    The warmth he felt from her body was not reflected in her voice.


    ¡°Well done, Nic. You did it. You travelled to another world and changed this one. Something not many people can claim to have done, and you managed it while simultaneously stealing my destiny from me. I would guess you were ambidextrous, if I didn¡¯t know otherwise.¡±


    Nic thought of a number of different responses, but he could easily predict how each would be received, even with all the other concerns weighing on his mind. Apology would invite rage. Denial would insist on it. The only thing to do was to refuse to accept the premise.


    ¡°How did I steal something that was never yours?¡± said Nic, having to raise his voice to make sure it reached her.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t.¡± The sharpness in her voice fell away, deflated. ¡°I¡¯m just being unreasonable.¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± said Nic. ¡°I know.¡±


    She sighed. ¡°Where are your manners, Nic? You¡¯re supposed to disagree when a woman criticises herself. Agreeing makes it sound like you think I¡¯m jealous of you.¡±


    ¡°You are,¡± he said.


    ¡°You aren¡¯t supposed to say it, though.¡±


    ¡°Why not? We both know it.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re such a clever, clever boy, but you don¡¯t understand people.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s just you I don¡¯t understand,¡± he said.


    ¡°I know,¡± she said, and moved her head to get her lips closer to his ear, brushing skin against skin. ¡°Stop thinking of me in that way. It makes it hard for me to focus on what I need to do when I can see the dirty thoughts on your face.¡±


    ¡°No, you can¡¯t,¡± he blurted out, and only then realising that was the same as admitting it. He turned his head and felt how close she was. Heat filled his face as he looked into her eyes.


    ¡°Your heart¡¯s beating very fast. I can feel it through your back.¡±


    He turned to face front. ¡°I can¡¯t help it if you hold me that tightly.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m holding on so I don¡¯t fall off,¡± she said. He felt her hands unclasp from around his waist, slide down his hips, and come to rest on his thighs. He nearly jumped out of his seat.


    He let go of the saddle pommel and grabbed her hands, quickly returning them to their previous position. ¡°It¡¯s safer this way.¡± Safer for both of them.


    He thrust his face forward, his nose cleaving the freezing air, letting it cool him down. He hadn¡¯t expected her to come with him.


    That wasn¡¯t entirely true. He had expected her to come; he hadn¡¯t expected her to be like this.


    They had a tacit agreement to ignore the thing between them. If they pretended it was some silly crush that would pass, they could be like fellow students. Time would pass, other matters would need to be addressed. As long as he kept his mind occupied, he could ignore the pointlessness of his infatuation. That¡¯s all it was, after all. The future was where they could deal with it, if need be. They might never make it that far, so there was no point addressing it now.


    But she was deliberately provoking him. For what reason? To amuse herself? Out of sheer pettiness? He had enough on his mind, he didn¡¯t need her prodding him out of boredom. He knew that wasn¡¯t it, though. She was probing him. He had been to the other place, spent far too much time in the company of demons. She wanted to see if it was really him. Could she tell? He had to convince her he hadn¡¯t changed, and if this was her way of testing him, so be it.


    The air buffeted them and Simole¡¯s wings adjusted, bouncing them up and down. Dizzy¡¯s grip tightened again. Nothing more than an attempt to gain additional security, he told himself through long slow breaths.


    They were heading to the Royal College. Everything would be resolved there. He had played his part. Now his only role was as an observer, an interested party who wanted to see how the story ends.


    He was in a privileged position. He was not able to insist he should be allowed to participate. The Librarian had allowed it. The demon had allowed it. Even Simole had allowed it. He knew this, and Dizzy knew it. So why was she so resentful? It wasn¡¯t to be envied. Perhaps if she had been there in his stead, she wouldn¡¯t have let herself be used as a pawn. He could certainly see an argument made that the simple exchange of boy for girl could have made for a very different unfolding of events. But it wasn¡¯t something that had been within his control. None of this felt like it had been his to choose.


    He was drawn towards this final meeting out of a need to see the conclusion. If it had been denied to him, there wouldn¡¯t have been much he could do about it.


    ¡°Even now you don¡¯t see it, do you?¡± she said into his ear. ¡°They wouldn¡¯t let you come if they didn¡¯t still need you.¡±


    ¡°They let you come,¡± he said.


    ¡°That¡¯s because I¡¯d make a fuss if they didn¡¯t. And my fuss would have been to take you away from them.¡±


    She was telling him her assessment of events she hadn¡¯t even witnessed, but he could see it clearly when she presented her thoughts. More clearly than from his own vantage point, which had been close and personal. Too close. Her analysis was good. He wasn¡¯t one to deny another person¡¯s reasoning just because it didn¡¯t correspond to his.


    And the realisation made his heart swell and his breath shorten. She wasn¡¯t coming to see what they were going to decide, to try and find a way to insert herself into the plans of demons and mages. She knew she was as ill-prepared as he had been. Well, maybe not that ill-prepared, but far from ready.


    She was coming because she had spotted a way in that was much more appropriate for her capabilities. Him. He was part of this, and she was going to stick with him so they came as a pair. She was using him, and it made him happy. That was probably the wrong response. But the important thing to remember was that she would have to follow his lead. She might want to take over at some point, but first she would have to be his second, his assistant. The world might be in turmoil, with supernatural calamity on the horizon, but that didn¡¯t mean he couldn¡¯t enjoy having her follow him around for once. He kept his face looking straight so she wouldn¡¯t see his grin.


    ¡°What¡¯s going to happen when we get there?¡± said Dizzy, pushing her chin over his shoulder and resting her cheek against his. ¡°Will they fight?¡±


    It felt like he had two heads now.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think so,¡± said Nic, resolutely facing forward. If he turned even slightly, his lips would meet hers. ¡°I don¡¯t think they ever did much fighting. They¡¯ve always had too much to lose. It¡¯s easier to negotiate when you both have something the other wants.¡±


    The stories about the battles between mages and demons seemed highly unlikely to him. Not untrue, but more metaphorical than literal. The battle had been of another kind. One which required dragons.


    ¡°What if we get there and the All-Father is just another big dumb dragon?¡± she said.


    ¡°He isn¡¯t,¡± said Nic. He turned his head to where the Librarian rode one of the other dragons. The one with his demon in it. ¡°They aren¡¯t going to see a dumb dragon.¡±


    Dizzy shifted behind him, looking the same way as him, resting her ear against his back. ¡°She¡¯s going there for a reason.¡± Her words vibrated pleasantly through him.


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Nic. ¡°They both are. They¡¯ve waited all this time, and now they¡¯re ready.¡± It was the most troubling part of the whole thing. What was different now?


    ¡°I get what we want from them,¡± said Dizzy, ¡°but what do they want from us?¡±


    It was a reasonable question. Magic was certainly worth waging wars over for ambitious men, but the demons had very little to gain, on the surface at least.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°You went to their world, didn¡¯t you? Didn¡¯t it occur to you to ask?¡±


    ¡°They weren¡¯t home,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°None of them? What about the All-Mother.¡±


    ¡°No. Just Winnum Roke.¡±


    ¡°Winnum Roke,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°You let her go. Was she the real Winnum Roke, though?¡±


    Nic paused to think about it. Was she?


    ¡°So where¡¯s the All-Mother?¡± she asked.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±


    ¡°You mean, you aren¡¯t sure. But you have an idea.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°Have you considered that the All-Mother is closer than you think? That we might be sitting on her.¡±


    ¡°I doubt it,¡± said Nic. ¡°Simole had no idea what she was doing in the other place.¡±


    The dragon under them shook. Simole¡¯s draconic version of scoffing.


    Dizzy sighed, a deep exasperation caused by him. She buried her face in his back. Something shot through him. Had she just kissed him?


    His whole body stiffened as he felt the impact of her mouth against his shoulder blade. Just an inadvertent contact which meant nothing. Or was she trying to seduce him? He had to stifle a laugh. That would be ridiculous and achieve very little. He was already infatuated with her, they both knew that. But he was never going to be moved against what he considered his own best interests. And that included her best interests.


    The problem had never been one of doubting her feelings for him. It was that there were better ways for her to spend her time. His only way to change that wasn¡¯t to convince her otherwise, it was to become a better alternative, but all he¡¯d managed was to be her rival.


    Her arms moved from around his waist, up his chest and gripped the top of his shoulders. Meaningless, all meaningless. He was finding it hard to breathe. Her head tilted to the side and rested on his back. He sensed it all through touch, and it made his head spin.


    ¡°Your heartbeat¡¯s gone up again,¡± she said.


    ¡°Are you doing this on purpose?¡±


    ¡°Doing what? I¡¯m tired. Wake me when get there.¡± She squeezed him and the bottom fell out of his world.


    Rather more literally than a simple hug should elicit. Simole banked hard and dived. Nic felt his stomach rise into his throat. Dizzy¡¯s embrace turned into a desperate grip, holding onto him with all her strength as she was lifted out of the saddle.


    ¡°Simole!¡± Nic cried out.


    The dragon pulled up, swooping back up towards the other dragons.


    After a few seconds Dizzy¡¯s grip loosened and he was able to breathe again.


    ¡°I think your girlfriend¡¯s jealous,¡± said Dizzy. There was a smile in her voice, he could distinctly hear it.


    Had she been trying to provoke a response from Simole all along? He felt silly for having assumed his own central role in what she was up to. If Dizzy wanted a ticket to the show, an even more important player was within her grasp.


    She wanted to know if she could manipulate Simole, perhaps. She might not even have anything in mind, yet. A test to check if she could get a reaction out of Simole. The answer was an unequivocal yes.


    ¡°You shouldn¡¯t take risks like that,¡± said Nic, feeling both a little embarrassed and a little disappointed that he had been a pawn, again. He would have to think of a way to stop that from happening.


    ¡°No, Nic, taking risks is exactly what I should do. It¡¯s what you should do, too. This isn¡¯t over. They aren¡¯t going to sit around a big table and sign a treaty. Blood is going to be spilled, one way or another. That what this is really about, isn¡¯t it? The blood they need to create mages.¡±


    Was she right? Maybe. It was certainly a possibility. ¡°What do you think I can do about it?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. But you should be paying attention instead of getting worked up about a little cuddling.¡±


    Now she was just being cruel. ¡°You¡¯re the one¡ª¡±


    ¡°¡ªwho started it? Don¡¯t be such a child, Nic. Distractions aren¡¯t a valid excuse for losing focus.¡±


    She was doing what she would do to him when they were kids. Pushing him to be more like her. More useful to her. A better tool. And he had always tried his best to live up to her expectations. But she still left him behind. She would again. He was tempted to push himself beyond her and make her the tool. But if he succeeded, it would mean changing her, and what was the point of that?


    And she was right. He had to maintain his focus, watch out for a break in the defences he had set up inside himself. Demons were not the only thing he had to be wary of now.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure there are people better qualified than me to deal with whatever happens next,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°Then why are you in such a rush to go to the college? You want the All-Father¡¯s autograph?¡±


    ¡°No. I want to¡­¡± His voice faded.


    ¡°You want to make sure nothing goes wrong? Because only you can fix it?¡±


    ¡°What do I have to do to make you stop, Dizzy?¡±


    ¡°You could try staying out of my way. But it¡¯s too late for that, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°Even if I hadn¡¯t gone,¡± said Nic, ¡°what makes you think that you would have been sent instead?¡±


    ¡°Did you hear that, Simole,¡± Dizzy shouted. ¡°See how big his head is after one trip to another world? Maybe you are the only one who can keep his ego in check. If he¡¯s like this at sixteen, imagine what he¡¯ll be like when he¡¯s grown.¡±


    ¡°I am here, you know?¡± said Nic, finding it hard not to get annoyed even though he knew she was baiting him for exactly that reason. ¡°I don¡¯t know why you¡¯re telling her. She¡¯s travelled to other dimensions more than I have.¡±


    ¡°Yes, but she lives up to her billing. She¡¯s the person¡­¡± Dizzy¡¯s voice faltered.


    ¡°Who deserved to be sent?¡± Nic finished for her.


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Dizzy, the amused mocking tone no longer in her voice. And then she added, somewhat petulantly, ¡°She might have the power, but not the brains.¡±


    Their transportation didn¡¯t take kindly to the insult. Needling Nic might get him to snap or lose his temper, but provoking a dragon whose back you happen to be flying on was an altogether more reckless sport.


    Simole¡¯s wings tucked in and she twisted in the air. The barrel roll only lasted a second, its speed keeping her passengers in their seat, but it was a long second that left them both shaking and holding tight long after they had no need to.


    ¡°Please don¡¯t tease her again,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°Alright,¡± said Dizzy.


    They flew in silence, Dizzy¡¯s hands no longer an object of desire, just a safety harness Nic appreciated.


    ¡°The dragons,¡± said Dizzy, some time later, ¡°they hold demons, don¡¯t they?¡±


    ¡°They can,¡± agreed Nic. ¡°I don¡¯t think most of them do, currently.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve never seen a baby dragon. Or even heard of one being born.¡±


    ¡°No, neither have I,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°I wonder if they¡¯re even real.¡±


    ¡°It would probably be best if you didn¡¯t stop believing in them right now.¡±Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    Dizzy laughed. ¡°I don¡¯t have the strength of will to stop dragons from existing.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Nic, ¡°you do.¡±


    She was silent again, thinking, he could tell from how still she was against him.


    ¡°Have you noticed how mages don¡¯t usually have children,¡± she said. ¡°The men, sometimes. The women almost never. I think maybe it dilutes their power.¡±


    ¡°Or maybe the opposite,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°Winnum Roke¡¯s mother was a mage. So was Simole¡¯s.¡±


    There was a movement on their right. The demon-dragon had its wings outstretched and was gliding effortlessly. The Librarian stood up and walked towards them across the wing. Her gait was as casual as it would have been walking across the school quad.


    She stopped on the very tip, motionless and unperturbed by her precarious positioning.


    ¡°Before we arrive, I wanted to apologise to you both,¡± she said. Even with the rushing wind, her words were easy to hear. ¡°I never meant to put either of you in harm¡¯s way. You can be sure, whatever happens when we get to the college, I will ensure your safety.¡±


    ¡°From demons?¡± asked Nic.


    ¡°You have nothing to fear from them.¡±


    ¡°From dragons?¡± asked Dizzy.


    ¡°No, they will not harm you. Unless you provoke them unreasonably.¡± Her eyes slid towards Simole. Then she turned and walked back.


    ¡°That only leaves one group,¡± said Nic. ¡°That¡¯s the problem with studying too hard. People worry that you might know too much.¡±


    ¡°I want to tell you something,¡± said Dizzy.¡°If Simole had thrown us off, and we fell wrapped in each other¡¯s arms, I would have kissed you before I used you to break my fall.¡±


    ¡°I know you don¡¯t mean that,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°That I¡¯d use you to break my fall?¡±


    ¡°That you¡¯d kiss me. But it doesn¡¯t matter. If we fell, Simole would catch me.¡±


    The dragons flew in V-formation. The Librarian led the way, sitting on the demon-dragon¡¯s neck. Simole was on her left, flying almost wingtip to wingtip. The rest behind.


    As grey light seeped into the morning sky, the towers of the capital emerged from the thinning, retreating darkness. The city was mostly still asleep, perhaps not too many people would notice a flock of dragons passing overhead. And even if they did, they would probably put it down to some exercise the army was carrying out. The problem was if the army spotted them, and wondered why they were flying around the city when there were no exercises. Nic knew they had developed anti-dragon weaponry, just in case.


    They flew over the Librarium, the palace, all the buildings of note. The Royal College was on the far side of the city, surrounded by slums. No one wanted to live near it, apart from those who couldn¡¯t find or afford any place better. Everyone feared what might leak out from between its walls.


    It was built from red stone and surrounded by crenellated parapets. The ground outside, Nic noticed from his high seat, had been subtly lowered so it felt even more imposing. An aloof fortress.


    The impressive fortifications were unnecessary, though. No one in their right mind would try to enter the college without permission, and preferably a mage as an escort. Stories abounded about children who had snuck in out of curiosity, and been added to the city¡¯s raven population.


    As the dragons circled the three towers that the college comprised of, the main courtyard below filled with mages. Nic assumed that¡¯s what they were. They wore robes and most had elaborate beards, which seemed to be popular among the older men. Most of them were older men.


    Simole shifted under him, and Nic spotted the Archmage down there. He stood out from the others, power tightly clenched in his body, his face peering up with a strained intensity Nic fancied he could feel. Perhaps it was just his imagination.


    Only two dragons touched down in the courtyard, the demon-dragon and Simole. The other dragons roosted on the towers, hanging off them like gigantic gargoyles.


    The mages were gathered in a tight knot behind the Archmage. Their outline was smudged behind a layer of Arcanum that shimmered around them.


    They seemed less intimidating, even though their combined power could level mountains. He felt contempt for them, he realised, which wasn¡¯t his to feel. Even though he was fully in command of his faculties, the passage of other souls through him had left their residual marks.


    The mages were tightly grouped, ready to defend themselves. Nic had to stifle a laugh as the demon-dragon ignored them entirely, and pointed its head towards a dark recess of the courtyard hidden in a blanket of perpetual shadow. Something moved in there. Slowly the shadow unwound and revealed itself to be another, much larger dragon. The All-Father.


    The demon-dragon stalked forward, head held low to the ground. Overhead, the other dragons made deep guttural sounds that reverberated around the courtyard.


    The All-Father¡¯s head emerged from the inky blackness, twice the size of the demon¡¯s. The two faced each other, snout to snout.


    The Librarian slipped off the dragon and walked forward. She had both arms raised as if to offer an embrace, or perhaps a request for mercy. The All-Father kept his attention on the dragon.


    Nic was fascinated by the sight. These immense otherworldly powers reunited after who knew how long. It felt like a momentous event. One the rest of them weren¡¯t meant to be party to. Not even the mages, who watched as rapt as Nic.


    ¡°Your lost wanderer returns,¡± said the Librarian.


    The All-Father made a low rumbling sound somewhere from his stomach. The two dragons kept eyes on each other. And then turned heads to look at Simole, who had slowly moved up join their t¨ºte-¨¤-t¨ºte.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think this involves us,¡± Nic whispered down the long neck at her.


    Simole ignored him and pushed the demon¡¯s head away with hers, taking its place in front of the All-Father.


    ¡°We¡¯re going to die,¡± Dizzy said into the back of Nic¡¯s neck. She gripped him tighter, which he didn¡¯t appreciate. She was still toying with him, even though they were about to become dragon food.


    ¡°Is it over now?¡± asked the Archmage, coming forward from the group. His face, mostly hidden behind a beard that seemed larger than the last time Nic had seen him, was worried. His broad shoulders seemed to be more sloped than before.


    ¡°Yes,¡± said the Librarian. She looked around. ¡°This place is thick with sigils and spells of annihilation. Were you expecting trouble?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said the Archmage.


    Simole swung her head around and pushed past the demon-dragon. She stopped when the Archmage was under her shadow. The large lizard-head tilted, and an eye looked down at him.


    ¡°She wants her body back,¡± said Nic. He slid out of the saddle and landed awkwardly. Dizzy leaped down behind, landing gracefully, of course.


    ¡°Simole?¡± asked the Archmage.


    Simole answered with a low growl. He turned and signalled to the mages. A man whose pink scalp shone through his thin white hair nudged the younger man next to him, who left the group and hurried into the building behind them.


    All eyes returned to the All-Father. He raised an enormous talon towards the demon-dragon¡¯s head. The demon pulled away, dodging the outstretched claw.


    The All-Father made a deeper rumble in his throat.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± asked the Librarian. ¡°You have returned for this.¡±


    The demons swung her head around. ¡°No. I did not return for that reason.¡± The sound of her voice sent a flutter of anxiety through the mages.


    ¡°Then why?¡± said the Librarian.


    ¡°I come with a message. She is coming.¡± There was an unmistakable tone of glee in her voice.


    The Librarian looked shocked. ¡°No. It cannot be.¡±


    ¡°It can,¡± said the demon, ¡°thanks in no small part to him.¡± Her head tilted to point at Nic.


    ¡°What did you do?¡± whispered Dizzy.


    ¡°Nothing,¡± said Nic.


    The All-Father¡¯s talon came crashing down at astonishing speed. It landed on the demon¡¯s head, slamming it to the ground, caught in the claws like a cage. The demon laughed, although it was pinned and unable to free itself.


    ¡°How is this possible?¡± said the Archmage.


    ¡°It isn¡¯t,¡± said the Librarian. She turned to look at Nic. Everyone was looking in his direction.


    Simole stepped in front of him, wings spread. She opened her jaws, sending the mages into a paroxysm of defensive gestures, and belched loudly. Then she turned and swung her tail, slowly enough for anyone in its path to jump out of the way.


    She lumbered back around so she was facing the All-Father, and pawed at the claw holding the demon down. The difference in size was too great for her to be able to free the demon. She reared back, and then bumped the top of her head against the underside of the All-Father¡¯s chin.


    The dragons watching from above let out a cry of protest, but the All-Father didn¡¯t seem angered. He pulled his head back and lifted his claw.


    The demon raised its released head, but not for long. Simole lunged forward and caught the demon¡¯s neck in both her claws. She was up on her hind legs, the demon flapped its wings frantically, but Simole breathed out a blue mist that splashed around the courtyard, and the demon stopped struggling.


    ¡°You are strong, young one,¡± said the demon. ¡°It won¡¯t be enough to fight her.¡±


    ¡°Who are they talking about?¡± asked Dizzy. ¡°The All-Mother?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said Nic. ¡°I think they mean Winnum Roke. I may have released her from her¡­ prison?¡± He aimed the question at the Librarian.


    ¡°I went back to tell her I had failed,¡± said the demon, ¡°but the little one saved me from embarrassment. Ah, such a good boy.¡±


    Simole opened her mouth again, but the demon didn¡¯t try to break free. It just laughed. Simole tossed the head aside, it fell, and then swung right back up on the prehensile neck.


    ¡°She is coming, and none of you can stop her.¡±


    ¡°Is this true?¡± said the Archmage, visibly shaken by the news. ¡°Is there nothing we can do?¡±


    ¡°Why is everyone so scared of her?¡± asked Dizzy. ¡°What have we to fear from Winnum Roke.¡±


    Eyes turned towards Dizzy, but no one answered. Simole moved so her head was level with Dizzy¡¯s. Now both of them posed the question.


    ¡°It is forbidden knowledge,¡± said the Archmage. ¡°It is not for¡ª¡±


    ¡°The demons gave themselves to us,¡± said Nic. ¡°They sacrificed their young to let us be mages.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± said Dizzy. ¡°Why would they do that?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure,¡± said Nic, ¡°but I think it¡¯s got something to do with changing them into something else. Inside us.¡±


    ¡°This is not something to be spoken about.¡± The Archmage looked anxious.


    Simole¡¯s head glided through the air. There would be no approach to Nic without going through her.


    ¡°As far as I can make out,¡± said Nic, almost as though he were talking to himself, ¡°a mage holds the demon as part of himself, and when he dies, as all men do, one of these dragons is used to transfer the essence, spirit, whatever you want to call it, to a new host. As it passes through us, it becomes something new. They don¡¯t change. But they want to.¡±


    ¡°Change into what?¡± said Dizzy.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. A different kind of demon? Something¡­¡± Nic looked around. The others were looking at him as though they were afraid he¡¯d say some magic word and the world would split in two. They needn¡¯t have feared. He had no answer.


    ¡°So, when the dragon ate Denkne¡­?¡± said Dizzy, recalling the oddness of that moment.


    ¡°Preparation of some kind, but¡­ female mages¡­¡±


    Simole moved towards him now, a questioning look in her eyes.


    ¡°When they give birth to a child, they pass it all on. There¡¯s no in-between stage needed. But they die. They die in childbirth, and what they produce is a jump. It¡¯s closer to what they intend to become.¡±


    ¡°But the mother always dies?¡± said Dizzy.


    ¡°Seems like it,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°You¡¯d think,¡± said Dizzy, ¡°they would prefer to have female mages, to speed up the process.¡± She looked around. All the mages present were men.


    ¡°They would,¡± said the demon. ¡°The deal was struck and the transformations were swift. And the women died for a greater cause, until they realised. And then they refused to bear children. So there was no need to allow them to join the Royal College, except for the very gifted few, and the wilfully ignorant.¡±


    As the demon spoke, Simole became visibly agitated.


    ¡°And Winnum Roke wanted to end it?¡± asked Dizzy.


    ¡°She wanted revenge,¡± said the Archmage. ¡°But there is no one to blame, other than everyone.¡±


    ¡°So you exiled her?¡± said Dizzy, her voice full of resentment for something that had happened well before she had been born.


    ¡°It was deemed the safest choice for us all,¡± said the Archmage.


    ¡°And the All-Mother?¡± asked Nic. ¡°She changed places with the Archmage. Convinced her that she would gain something from the bargain. Tricked her into going to the other place. Where is she? In you? In all the Archmages since?¡±


    ¡°We no longer use females in such a barbaric manner,¡± said the Archmage, side-stepping the question. ¡°It is slower this way, but they do not experience time as we do. It matters little how long it takes. We achieved a balance, satisfactory to both sides.¡±


    Nic looked at Simole. ¡°Why did you have a child with a mage?¡±


    The Archmage looked up at Simole. ¡°I loved your mother. We were foolish and irresponsible. I tried to make it right, but she refused to give you up. I am sorry.¡± His eyes filled with quiet sadness. ¡°If Winnum Roke returns¡­ She is more powerful than any of us.¡±


    ¡°Who can know what the future holds?¡± Everyone turned towards the source of the voice. The All-Father¡¯s mouth barely moved, but the voice was deep and low, like a creeping mist along the ground. ¡°It is the past we fear. The repetition of the familiar dulling the nerves until all is meaningless. The future holds the promise of the unknown, in whatever form it may take.¡±


    ¡°I am to blame,¡± said the Librarian. For the first time Nic could remember, she seemed unsure of herself.


    ¡°No, Pilot,¡± said the All-Father, ¡°you are not.¡± The All-Father¡¯s head swayed and then settled to look down on the demon in dragon form. ¡°I indulged you, that was my mistake. You were seduced by her words. She was a master at it. You cannot put your siblings at risk any longer. We didn¡¯t send her away because she was inconvenient to our plans ¡ª there is no planning for the unknown ¡ª we sent her away because she went insane. By understanding the price of her powers, she came loose from the world. I thought solitude would suit her better. That too is my blame.¡±


    ¡°It is too late, Father. She is coming.¡±


    ¡°You will not be here to see it.¡± The All-Father moved towards the smaller dragon. ¡°You will join the others. It is time for you to grow up.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said the demon-dragon. ¡°I refuse to take another form. Change is¡­ overrated.¡±


    ¡°As is insolence. You will do as I say, believe what I believe.¡±


    The demon-dragon shrank from the crackle of blue light in the All-Father¡¯s mouth and eyes.


    ¡°Wait,¡± said Nic. ¡°You can¡¯t do that.¡± All eyes turned to him. ¡°We have an agreement. A promise to merge. With me, and only me.¡±


    The All-Father looked down at him, and then back to the demon. ¡°Is this so?¡±


    ¡°It is,¡± said the demon, ¡°but it hardly seems worth your time, little one. She is coming.¡±


    ¡°Not for a while,¡± said Nic. ¡°I thought she was going to go out there, not back here.¡± He was pointing up at the sky, and felt foolish doing it. ¡°A door to the other place seemed an unnecessary hole someone might fall into. So I closed it.¡±


    The silence turned stunned.


    ¡°You closed it?¡± said the Archmage. ¡°How is that possible?¡±


    ¡°I could only do it from that side. She¡¯ll be able to open it again, eventually. If she wants, but she¡¯ll have to unravel my lock first. I don¡¯t think she¡¯s very good at understanding how other people think, especially those not as smart as her, so I used the dumbest method possible. It will take her some time to work it out, I think. Erm, at least that¡¯s what I believe.¡±


    ¡°It won¡¯t work,¡± said the demon, but the voice was unsteady.


    ¡°It has already,¡± said Nic. ¡°What you fear is the past, like the All-Father said. It cannot be undone. She will have to wait, and you will have to keep your word.¡±


    ¡°You aren¡¯t ready,¡± said the Archmage. ¡°This is the first unattached demon in a long time. The process will be gruelling.¡±


    ¡°Yes, I need to be better prepared. So I suppose I should go back to school. And then...¡± Nic looked around, and up at the buildings. ¡°I hear you have a really good library here¡±


    There was a commotion among the mages, and they parted to allow a cart through. On it was a girl¡¯s body. Simole moved towards herself.


    ¡°You realise,¡± said Dizzy, ¡°we¡¯re about to lose our only way out of here.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s a door,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°Do you have the key?¡±


    ¡°No. But I think I know how to find one.¡±


    Simole lowered her head to touch her prostrate form. Her eyes opened and she sat up. She moved her jaw from side to side and scrunched up her face to remind herself what it felt like. ¡°This is much better.¡± She stood up, and immediately collapsed.


    ***


    Simole woke in a darkened room. She was lying in a moderately comfortable bed. She raised her hand and produced a light. She jumped ¡ª which wasn¡¯t easy to do lying down ¡ª when she saw the figure sitting beside the bed.


    ¡°Why are you here?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve been asleep for two days,¡± said Dizzy.


    ¡°Okay. But why are you here?¡±


    ¡°Because I told them we were close and you would be more at ease if I was the first person you saw when you opened your eyes.¡±


    Simole sat up. ¡°And they believed you?¡±


    ¡°Old men have gaps in their knowledge, the behaviour of girls is one of them. Plus, I¡¯m an excellent liar.¡±


    Simole couldn¡¯t disagree. ¡°What happened to Nic?¡±


    ¡°He went back to school. Said he still had a lot to learn.¡± Dizzy smiled. ¡°Sometime I think I¡¯m the only one who knows what a massive idiot he is.¡±


    Simole smiled back. ¡°No, you aren¡¯t.¡±


    For a moment, they were content to sit with each other. And then the moment passed.


    ¡°What do you want?¡± asked Simole. She knew enough about this girl to realise her reasons had nothing to do with concern for a fellow student¡¯s health.


    ¡°It¡¯s not what I want that matters,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°Do you understand what he did?¡±


    Simole gave her a sideways glance as she rested her head back on the pillow. ¡°Yes, I do, despite my lack of brains.¡±


    ¡°Sorry about that. I was just trying to work out what was different about him. I was maybe a bit blunt.¡±


    ¡°You have an interesting way of apologising,¡± said Simole. ¡°¡®Sorry for insulting you by speaking the truth.¡¯ Very you. Have they figured it out yet?¡±


    ¡°No. He¡¯s good at making himself look innocent. The keen boy eager to learn. It¡¯s appealing to some. Old men.¡±


    ¡°Old men,¡± agreed Simole. ¡°Aren¡¯t you worried Nic might already be in her control?¡±


    ¡°You think I can¡¯t tell if he¡¯s himself? Believe me, I have ways to make sure. Why didn¡¯t he just leave her there?¡±


    ¡°He was the door. He was always the door. He couldn¡¯t stop her, but he could stop her getting through the doorway. He trapped her,¡± said Simole. ¡°Do you think she¡¯s really crazy? If she¡¯s inside him, it might end up making him go mad.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s too stubborn to let Winnum Roke change his mind. But he might lose control of the rest of his body. And then they¡¯ll know, and do something about it. They¡¯re too scared to trust him. That¡¯s why it¡¯s important you look after him.¡±


    Simole raised an eyebrow. ¡°I thought you were the one who wanted the heroic jobs. He¡¯d rather have you.¡±


    ¡°He needs you. You can protect him.¡± Dizzy smiled bitterly. ¡°Must be nice to be born with so much power.¡±


    ¡°It didn¡¯t come cheap,¡± said Simole, and Dizzy turned her head away. ¡°It was interesting hearing him talk about how demons use us,¡± Simole continued. ¡°If a female mage has a child, she pays for it with her life. But if a male mage has a child, it costs him nothing.¡±


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t gain him anything either,¡± said Dizzy.


    ¡°I can never have children,¡± said Simole. The words felt meaningless, but something inside her chest burned with a cold heat.


    ¡°If I become a mage, then neither can I,¡± said Dizzy.


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Simole, ¡°but that¡¯s different. You would make a terrible mother.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d be better than you,¡± said Dizzy.


    ¡°Maybe,¡± said Simole, a little sadly. ¡°You could get pregnant before you became a mage.¡±


    ¡°Only if I fall for a boy I shouldn¡¯t, and do something stupid. Let¡¯s hope that never happens.¡±


    ¡°Yes, let¡¯s.¡± Simole looked at Dizzy. ¡°Does he really mean nothing to you?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s surprising,¡± said Dizzy, ¡°how much value people ascribe to feelings, like they¡¯re some kind of reliable measure. I hope to improve my judgment, my level of perception, my understanding of people over the next few years. I would hate to think I¡¯d already reached the pinnacle of anything at this age. Demons might lack the ability to change and transform, but we don¡¯t. Let him become who he¡¯s supposed to, and then we¡¯ll see if he still feels the same way about me. Then I¡¯ll decide what I feel.¡±


    ¡°Hmm,¡± said Simole. ¡°That¡¯s cold-hearted.¡±


    ¡°Now who¡¯s being insulting?¡±


    ¡°Sorry. I meant that¡¯s impressively cold-hearted.¡±


    ¡°Better.¡±


    ¡°And what is he supposed to become?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°But I think he has something planned.¡±


    ¡°Do you think he¡¯d tell us if we asked?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°In a two-hour lecture with drawings to help us understand. I¡¯d rather stay ignorant.¡±


    Simole couldn¡¯t help but smile at the depiction of Nic¡¯s need to explain things. She knew him well. ¡°He¡¯s going to die if he loses to her.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re all going to die if he loses to her,¡± said Dizzy.


    ¡°So¡­ it¡¯s up to him.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m starting to wonder if you¡¯re not the crazy one,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°Of course it¡¯s not up to him. It¡¯s up to us. You and me.¡±


    ¡°He doesn¡¯t approve of your methods.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s okay,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°I don¡¯t need his approval. But I will need your help, so you better pass the exams to get into the second year.¡±


    Simole burst into laughter.


    ¡°What¡¯s so funny?¡± Dizzy asked


    ¡°You two, that¡¯s what. So eager to get good grades. I don¡¯t need to pass an exam to get into the second year. I might not bother sitting them at all, and force the Headmaster to announce I came first, just to annoy you both.¡± She laughed again. ¡°You better go start revising. If you don¡¯t beat him, you¡¯ll have to suffer the shame of third place. Third place, Dizzy. Third place!¡±


    She carried on laughing as Dizzy left the room.


    End of Volume One

 Update for TGS Volume 2

    Hey,


    New chapter coming Sunday 14th October. Was planning to start today but need more time to plan it out. Extra early access chapter will be on my Patreon.


    There will also be a short lecture by Nic clearing up Fanny''s confusion about the relationship between demons and mages and how Arcanum works. He may have diagrams.A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    You can keep up with my schedule and news of delays on my Disord.


    Join my Discord for updates and what have you: LINK</a>


    You can find more of my stories on my personal site: MoodyLit.com</a>

 Book 2: Prologue

    Nic stared out the library window at the Pagoda. Long poles and wooden planks surrounded the tall structure on all sides. It had been marked for demolition but was shrouded in scaffold, as though it was in the process of being repaired. The eaves had lost many of their tiles and the walls had large cracks running up them. They didn¡¯t want it to fall down before they had a chance to destroy it, like a prisoner sentenced to death and put on suicide watch.


    From the small room in the library that had become their personal study, the three boys could watch the workmen and ministry official come and go. Which ministry were they from? It was hard to tell and unwise to ask.


    Nic would have guessed the Ministry of Instruction would be involved in some capacity. He assumed they would be under new leadership by now. It was hard to imagine who could replace Minister Delcroix. At least until Dizzy was older.


    She had taken her father¡¯s death hard, but she hadn¡¯t turned to Nic for consolation. She hadn¡¯t turned to anyone.


    ¡°I¡¯m tired,¡± said Fanny.


    ¡°We¡¯re all tired,¡± said Davo. ¡°No one¡¯s forcing you to stay here. Go back to the cottage and have a nap if you want.¡± He spoke without looking up, making notes in his elegant and effortless bookkeepers scrawl. ¡°You could do with some beauty sleep. Sixteen to eighteen hours should do the trick.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t take a nap,¡± said Fanny. ¡°There¡¯s too much to do.¡±


    Nic sighed and closed the book he was supposed to be reading. He¡¯d read it before. There had been no changes since the last time. He shoved it across the table and then reached for another book from the pile.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think the exams will be as bad as you think,¡± he said. ¡°They¡¯re bound to make them easier because of all the disruptions.¡±


    Recent events had left the school and most of Ranvar reeling, but it hadn¡¯t taken long for the flood of explanations and reassurances to bring things back under control. Dragon troopers had flown over the big cities in huge formations as a show of strength. The strange rumours everyone found hard to believe were converted into far more acceptable stories about a Gweurian uprising brutally crushed. Across the border, unrelated to life in Ranvar, the rebels of another nation had been defeated, everything was under control.


    ¡°Is there anything in particular you don¡¯t understand?¡± Nic asked Fanny.


    Fanny put his pen down. ¡°Now that you mention it, yes. How is it that the High-Father was a demon changed into a dragon, but the other dragons aren¡¯t demons? That story about dragon kites, that¡¯s not how dragons really came into existence, is it?¡±


    ¡°I meant anything about the exams,¡± said Nic. He had spent the last several weeks explaining the events of that night to Fanny and Davo. He did his best to be open and clear, but it was hard when there was so much he couldn¡¯t tell them. Not for their own safety, which he realised was patronising and mostly ineffectual, but because he really didn¡¯t understand a lot of it himself. And also, maybe, a little for their own safety.


    ¡°He knows that,¡± said Davo. ¡°It¡¯s still a good question.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Nic, ¡°but I¡¯m hardly an expert on the subject.¡±


    Davo¡¯s twisted his mouth into a sour grimace. ¡°I would have said you were the preeminent expert on the subject.¡±


    ¡°But the High-Father is a demon in the shape of a dragon, right?¡± Fanny peered across the table expectantly. ¡°A demon living in our world all this time.¡±


    Nic stopped flicking through pages and picked up the book, pulling it closer to cover his chest. He felt more secure with a shield against the inquiring duo. He had done his best to tell them what had happened at the Royal College, and what it all meant, but he had kept to the things he was sure of. Which meant his answers were limited and gave the impression he was holding back. How was he supposed to explain things in a full and satisfactory manner to them when it made such little sense to him?


    Then again, he had also deliberately avoided analysing those events too closely. His role had been mostly as a stooge and he wasn¡¯t very keen on recounting those few weeks of his life. Best forgotten was how he saw it. The residual action that needed to be taken was in the hands of people far more qualified than him. It would have been nice if he had emerged from the experience as an untapped prodigy destined to meet such challenges, but that sort of thing only happened in fairy tales. The ordinary child who tried to battle dragons and demons did not, in the real world, arise from the debris triumphant and unscathed.


    But refusing to examine the way things had played out was against his nature. Being able to ignore them indefinitely was unlikely. There was a lot to learn and any information he managed to extract would aid him in dealing with whatever came next, which could be absolutely nothing, but that too was unlikely.


    He would have to evaluate what had happened at some point. His brain wouldn¡¯t allow otherwise.


    ¡°The High-Father made the dragons as a vessel for the other demons,¡± Nic said. ¡°It gave them somewhere to stay when they weren¡¯t bonded to a mage. At least, that¡¯s my impression.¡±


    ¡°Ooh,¡± said Fanny, his excitement rising as he realised Nic was finally opening up. ¡°So why would they bond with the mages in the first place? And why would they become unbonded? And who controls the dragons when there isn¡¯t a demon inside them? Oh, and¡ª¡±


    ¡°Calm down,¡± said Davo. ¡°Let the boy answer one of your fifty million questions.¡±


    They both turned their attention back to Nic.


    ¡°Well¡­ as far as I can work out, the demons crave change. They¡¯ve been stuck in the same unending existence for¡­ I don¡¯t know, probably several thousand years. For some reason, being bonded with one of us ¡ª I¡¯m not sure what the criteria are for bonding, maybe it¡¯s open to anyone, maybe you have to have a particular suitability ¡ª being bonded with a human enables them to evolve in some way.¡±


    ¡°How do you mean, evolve?¡± said Fanny, enthralled. ¡°Like, bigger and stronger?¡±


    ¡°He just said he doesn¡¯t know, didn¡¯t he?¡± said Davo.


    ¡°I know,¡± said Fanny, ¡°but he¡¯s probably got a good guess. Right?¡±


    Davo¡¯s objections wilted under Fanny¡¯s enthusiasm. Nic wasn¡¯t sure what to say, he really hadn¡¯t thought too deeply about it. Intentionally.


    ¡°Whatever it is they¡¯re going to become,¡± he said, thinking on the fly now since he couldn¡¯t avoid it any longer, ¡°it also turns out that if a woman becomes bonded to a demon, and then has a child, the mother dies in childbirth, and the child inherits the powers of a mage.¡±


    ¡°Like with Simole?¡± said Fanny.


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Nic. ¡°And Winnum Roke.¡±


    ¡°Wait,¡± said Davo. ¡°Back up a bit. If a man bonds with a demon, he gets all the fancy powers and so on and such and such. But then what? How does that help the demon evolve?¡±


    ¡°Uh,¡± said Nic. ¡°I think it¡¯s a very slow process, one that goes well beyond a single human lifespan. When the mage dies, the demon has to be transferred to a new host, to keep the process going. That¡¯s where the dragons come in. They can hold the demons between hosts, possibly they¡¯re a key part of the transfer, I¡¯m not sure. My guess¡ª¡±


    ¡°I told you he¡¯d have a guess,¡± said Fanny smugly.


    ¡°My guess would be that the dragons are a convenience. They are the ideal vehicle for containing a demon, and somehow are also able to operate without a demon in them.¡±


    ¡°You were in a dragon,¡± said Fanny. ¡°What was it like?¡±


    The memory of his time as a dragon sent a thrill through Nic. He had been able to fly as an unrestrained force of nature and nothing felt more natural.


    ¡°It was exhilarating,¡± he said.


    ¡°What I mean,¡± said Fanny, ¡°is did it feel like there were two of you in there? You and the dragon?¡±


    ¡°Oh, no. Just me.¡±


    ¡°Ah,¡± said Fanny.


    ¡°Ah what?¡± said Davo. ¡°What moment of epiphany did that grant you?¡±


    ¡°Obviously, the dragons are able to separate from their demons and operate basic functions, but when they have someone controlling them from the inside, they probably become one entity and become a lot more powerful. My sister can tell her dragon where to go and where to land and stuff like that. But if you were joined with the dragon, I imagine there are a whole range of additional abilities available to you.¡±


    ¡°Was it like that?¡± Davo asked Nic.


    ¡°Not really,¡± said Nic, giving Fanny an apologetic look. ¡°I was too busy flying to look too deeply, though. Maybe you¡¯re right.¡±


    ¡°I think so,¡± said Fanny. ¡°I think there¡¯s more to the dragons than flying lizards.¡±


    ¡°Yes, yes,¡± said Davo. ¡°I¡¯m sure if you ask they¡¯ll let you open one up and have a look inside to see how they work. Can we get back to the demons? You¡¯ve been pestering him all week about it, and now that he¡¯s actually giving us answers, you start distracting him with all this nonsense about the inner workings of dragons. What are you planning to do, draw up schematics for how to build your own dragon?¡±


    Fanny calmly waited for Davo¡¯s rant to end, and then said. ¡°Have you finished? Then Nic, please continue.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t make me out to be the one¡ª¡±


    ¡°Please,¡± said Fanny, even more calmly to infuriate Davo, ¡°don¡¯t interrupt when he¡¯s about to explain everything.¡± He took out a notebook and began making scribbles in it.


    ¡°What are you doing now?¡± said Davo.This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    ¡°Taking notes. This is complicated stuff, we have to find the connections for it to make sense.¡±


    ¡°And you think it¡¯s a good idea to put it down in writing?¡± said Davo. ¡°What if someone stumbles across it?¡±


    ¡°Ah, I¡¯ve thought of that. It¡¯s coded, no one will be able to tell what it means.¡± He nodded sagely.


    Davo leaned over to take a closer look and grabbed the book out of Fanny¡¯s hand.


    ¡°What is this supposed to be?¡±


    ¡°I told you, it¡¯s in code.¡±


    ¡°It looks like it was drawn by a five year old.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the genius of it,¡± said Fanny. ¡°If someone finds it, they¡¯ll think some child drew it for fun.¡±


    ¡°Of course, brilliant thinking. Is this meant to be a demon? Why does it have a moustache.¡±


    ¡°Those are teeth,¡± said Fanny.


    ¡°And what is this?


    ¡°That¡¯s a dragon.¡±


    ¡°Is it? I¡¯m sure I¡¯ve seen a similar drawing in the boys¡¯ bathrooms in the cafeteria. Are you sure you¡¯re not trying to be vulgar?¡±


    ¡°Of course not,¡± said Fanny. ¡°How is that vulgar? Oh, I suppose from a certain angle...¡±


    Davo held the book away from himself to get a better look. ¡°So, the demon goes in the dragon and then gets transferred into the mage ¡ª a lovely young woman with googly eyes, apparently ¡ª who becomes a demonic amalgam of some sort. And when she dies, it¡¯s back into the dragon, and round we go again.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve cracked my code!¡± said Fanny.


    ¡°Yeeeees,¡± drawled Davo. ¡°Imagine that. I wouldn¡¯t show this to anyone, if I were you. Not if you don¡¯t want them to pity you.¡±


    ¡°I suppose you could do better,¡± said Fanny.


    Davo turned the page and quickly drew something. He handed it back to Fanny.


    ¡°Hmm,¡± said Fanny. ¡°It¡¯s a bit on the nose.¡±


    Nic didn¡¯t mind the squabbling, it was quite comforting, actually. Made it feel like he was on familiar ground. It also allowed him time to work through his thoughts. A lot of what he was telling them was new to him, too. He waited for their attention to him.


    ¡°Which do you prefer, Nic?¡± Fanny held up his notebook with the two drawings.


    ¡°So,¡± said Nic, ignoring the question, ¡°the demons transfer from mage to mage, enabling them to slowly become more¡­ something. They said it would take a long time but that time didn¡¯t mean very much to them so they¡¯re used to measuring time in aeons. It was worth it for them to surrender control to us while they hibernate. I could be wrong, they could be controlling the mages in subtle ways and we have no idea, but I don¡¯t think so. Our obsessions mean very little to them. And in the meantime, fusing with the demons allow us to reshape reality to some extent, although nothing like how they are able to in the Other Place.¡±


    ¡°But if a female mage has a child,¡± said Fanny, ¡°that speeds up their evolution?¡±


    ¡°Yes, and I think for a time, at the beginning, they used female mages like that, producing some really powerful mages, the ones we read about now.¡±


    ¡°But it killed the mothers,¡± said Davo, his face showing his disgust. ¡°Barbaric. Do you think they knew?¡±


    That was the horrible part of it. The part Nic didn¡¯t want to think about, had tried his best to push out of his mind. Would the women have intentionally become pregnant, knowing it would kill them? It seemed unlikely. Perhaps a few zealots, but even they would have most likely been brainwashed into believing it was for some greater good.


    No, the obvious conclusion was that they had been kept in the dark. Secrecy was, after all, the bedrock of the Royal College.


    ¡°I think,¡± said Nic, ¡°they probably kept the truth from them and let the women die.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s horrible,¡± said Fanny. He made a change to his drawing.


    ¡°They must have known,¡± said Davo, leaning to have a look and wincing. ¡°They can¡¯t have not noticed everyone dying in childbirth.¡±


    ¡°I would imagine they had a way of explaining it away,¡± said Nic. ¡°I think Winnum Roke was the one who figured it out in the end. That¡¯s why she left. She didn¡¯t want to be part of it.¡±


    ¡°But they stopped, right?¡± said Fanny. ¡°Simole was an accident. They don¡¯t do it anymore.¡±


    ¡°No, not anymore. They agreed to do it the slow way, but I don¡¯t know when that happened, or whose decision it was. Ranvar had already established its dominance by then, they didn¡¯t need the really powerful mages like they used to, so everyone agreed to be more¡­ well, not more, less... ¡°


    ¡°Evil,¡± said Fanny.


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Nic. ¡°I guess.¡±


    ¡°And the All-Mother?¡± said Davo. ¡°Where does she fit into this?¡±


    ¡°As far as I know,¡± said Nic, ¡°she switched places with Winnum Roke. She came here and bonded with all future Archmages, and Winnum Roke took over the ship the demons used to go from place to place. She planned to go off and explore the universe or the other dimensions or whatever¡¯s out there, and leave the evil behind.¡±


    ¡°Wait, that doesn¡¯t make sense,¡± said Davo. ¡°Why would she leave like that? If she was so upset about what they¡¯d done, she wouldn¡¯t just walk away, would she? She was the Archmage, for pity¡¯s sake. She would be in the perfect position to turn the ship around. The Royal College, I mean, not the demons¡¯ ship.¡±


    ¡°And what about the other demon, the one that was in you?¡± said Fanny. ¡°She must have known Winnum Roke was on the ship. She started all that trouble in Gweur to prepare the way for the demons, but she was really preparing it for Winnum Roke, wasn¡¯t she?¡±


    That was the same conclusion Nic had come to. The demon had been on Archmage Roke¡¯s side. When they got to the Royal College, it was obvious the demon was not sympathetic to the High-Father¡¯s plans. She was the single voice of dissent, and her warning that She is coming must have referred to Winnum Roke.


    ¡°Hey,¡± said Fanny, ¡°didn¡¯t you say the High-Father called the Librarian a pilot? Like a ship¡¯s pilot? If they needed a pilot to sail their ship, how was Winnum Roke supposed to go anywhere?¡±


    ¡°Good point,¡± said Davo.


    ¡°Really,¡± said Fanny, beaming. ¡°Thanks very much.¡±


    ¡°Alright, don¡¯t get carried away,¡± said Davo. ¡°You just got lucky.¡±


    ¡°Yes, you¡¯re right,¡± said Nic. ¡°You¡¯re both right. The demon was working with Winnum Roke. I don¡¯t know what their goal was, but neither approved of what the rest of them were up to, the demons or the mages. I think there are a lot more secrets behind the Royal College¡¯s walls, and it¡¯s probably best not to pry too much.¡±


    ¡°Pry too much?¡± said Dave. ¡°That¡¯s rich coming from you. I suspect the information you¡¯re trying so desperately to avoid will seek you out in the end. You¡¯re a magnet for forbidden knowledge.¡±


    Nic rather suspected Davo was right. There was no way to evade his fate. He was too entrenched in all of this, his only hope was to navigate his way through it as best he could. His time with the demon inside him hadn¡¯t bestowed magical powers on him, but it had taught him how to keep his mind his own. He might not be able to do whatever he wished, but he was able to refuse the demands of others. It was a small achievement, but an important one.


    ¡°This still doesn¡¯t make sense,¡± said Fanny. ¡°The All-Mother bonds with each archmage, right?¡± Nic nodded and shrugged at the same time. ¡°But if she transfers when the Archmage dies, doesn¡¯t she have to go into a brand new mage who doesn¡¯t already have a demon in them? That can¡¯t be right. How can you have a brand new mage as the Archmage of the Royal College?¡±


    ¡°He has a point,¡± said Davo. ¡°They must have a way to extract one demon and replace it with another, possibly using the dragons. Which presumably means they could do that with a pregnant mage.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± said Nic. ¡°He does have a point, but I¡¯m not sure what it means. There may be more to it, in fact, I¡¯d be surprised if there wasn¡¯t. All I know for sure is that they said they¡¯re going to wait and see how things go. The Gweurians still have access to Arcanum, so they have that to deal with.¡±


    ¡°And Winnum Roke?¡± said Fanny. ¡°She won¡¯t try to interfere anymore?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure she will, but I think it will take her some time.¡±


    He had told Archmage van Dastan and the High-Father that he¡¯d closed the door on Winnum Roke, and when they asked him to explain, he had given them spurious reasons why it was best to keep that information to himself.


    They had accepted his assurance for the time being; as long as Winnum Roke was sealed in her prison ¡ª because that¡¯s what it was ¡ª they had no need to pry any further.


    There was a knock on the door. The three boys looked at each other. They were in a private study room in the library that hardly anyone even knew they had access to. Fanny got up and opened the door. There was a girl standing outside, the one from the girls¡¯ dorm with lots of frizzy hair. The one Fanny had given a ¡®magical¡¯ device to call him if she was in trouble.


    ¡°Oh, hello,¡± said Fanny.


    ¡°Hi.¡± She looked nervous and took a big breath. ¡°I was just... I wanted to return this.¡± She held out a small box. It was the one he had given to her to call him if demons attacked.


    ¡°Thanks. I was, um, looking for that.¡±


    ¡°I was wondering if you weren¡¯t busy,¡± said the girl, smiling shyly, ¡°maybe you could show me how it works. I¡¯m interested in Arcanum devices.¡±


    Fanny¡¯s face went bright red. ¡°That would be great. I mean, I¡¯d love to, but I¡¯m just in the middle¡­¡± He pointed at the other two.


    ¡°How did you know we were in here?¡± said Davo jumping to his feet, his voice carrying an edge. ¡°Were you listening to our conversation? Who sent you?¡±


    The girl was taken aback by Davo¡¯s brusqueness. ¡°No, I¡­ I saw you go in. I mean, earlier¡­¡±


    ¡°That was hours ago,¡± said Davo. ¡°Are you saying you¡¯ve been waiting all this time to give him back his box?¡±


    She backed away, confused. ¡°I, yes¡­ I didn¡¯t want to disturb you.¡±


    ¡°Oh, but you did disturb us. Trying to upset our revising, are you? Stop the Also-Rans from doing well, that¡¯s your game is it?¡±


    There was a flash of anger in the girl¡¯s eyes. ¡°That¡¯s not it at all.¡± She shoved the box into Fanny¡¯s hands and stormed off.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Fanny called after her. ¡°Maybe I can call on you sometime? Erm, ah...¡±


    ¡°You still can¡¯t remember her name can you?¡± said Davo.


    ¡°Shhh,¡± said Fanny, hurriedly closing the doors. ¡°Thanks for chasing her off, by the way.¡± He held up the box which was not what the girl thought it was. ¡°Is it Marianne?¡±


    ¡°Maybe,¡± said Davo.


    ¡°You could just tell me.¡±


    ¡°No, no, you got yourself into this, I refuse to be an accessory. By all rights, I should have let her open the box and see what¡¯s inside.¡±


    ¡°I just gave it to her to make her feel better. It was a thoughtful and considerate thing to do. I¡¯m sure it helped keep her calm.¡±


    ¡°Absolutely,¡± said Davo. ¡°I¡¯m sure she¡¯d be just as starry-eyed and grateful if she knew it was nothing more than somewhere you keep your spare wires. I almost wish the demons had invaded, just to see her face when she tried to summon you.¡±


    Fanny sat down with a bump, unamused. ¡°Do you remember her name?¡± he asked Nic.


    ¡°I¡¯d rather not get involved,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Davo, ¡°Nic is very much a non-interventionist, unless magical beings threatening to annihilate the world are involved. Or a certain girl.¡±


    Nic took a breath and let the buzzing in his head settle. His answers had satisfied them for the moment, but they had only raised more questions in his own mind. They had exams to deal with, which helped shift the focus, but then there was the whole summer after that. What would he do?


    There was a lot more to be said, but it would have to wait, at least until he understood it a little bit better himself.


    They had dinner in the cafeteria and went back to the cottage. Simole had decided to stay with her father and wouldn¡¯t return to school until the exams. It wasn¡¯t like she had much chance of failing ¡ª they wouldn¡¯t dare.


    Nic returned to his room and lay on his bed with a notebook resting on his knees. He quickly drew his own version of Fanny¡¯s diagram.


    It didn¡¯t really make anything clearer.


    Thoughts of demons and monsters ran through his mind like some distant memory. It was hard to believe any of it had really happened. He had very little to be proud of. He had been used and manipulated and barely managed to stay on his own two feet. He had no illusions about his role. Minor and secondary to everyone, which was a lot lower than secondary implied. He had not risen to the occasion.


    As he drifted off to sleep a voice said, ¡°So, Nicolav Tutt, here we are.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Archmage Roke,¡± mumbled Nic.


    ¡°Do you think you can keep me trapped inside your mind forever?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. I¡¯ve had quite a lot of practice.¡± Nic turned over on his side, smiling. His days were long and tiring, but his nights were never boring. ¡°Would you like to hear a story?¡±

 Book 2: Chapter One

    Peri Periwinkle hurried into the classroom, small steps made quickly, settled himself at the desk without looking at the class and took a slim blue book from the scuffed leather case he carried.


    He was a large blond man with a round face and a plumpness that disguised a powerful physique. He reminded Nic of farmers with rotund bellies who could lift a cow out of a ditch with their bare hands. He¡¯d seen it done.


    Mr Periwinkle was new to the Ransom School. Replacements had been somewhat common of late as circumstances removed members of the faculty. First, there was Mr Tenner, then Master Denkne. Hopefully, Periwinkle¡¯s tenure wouldn¡¯t be as short.


    The teacher looked once around the room; a quick glance which settled on no one and treated the six young men and women who faced him with an apparent lack of interest. He took out a pen from his jacket and placed it on the table next to the book.


    The students of the Arts Course watched in silence, their expressions identical: alert and focused. They were all keen to find out who the new course instructor was and what qualified him to teach this particular class. All they had been told was his name.


    Peri Periwinkle didn¡¯t look like the typical Ransom teacher. His round face gave him a ruddy, workmanlike appearance. He had large hands with blooming pink skin, as though he had recently been doing some kind of manual labour. His clothing was loose and unbuttoned, not at all prim and tightly bound in the traditional Ransom style. Coarse blond grizzle covered his jaw, his eyes were blue slits and his nose hairs, also blond, protruded from his wide nostrils.


    He seemed, to Nic, a hearty uncle who was fond of a drink and meat pie or three.


    ¡°Let me start,¡± said Mr Periwinkle, ¡°by congratulating you all on making it onto this year¡¯s Arts Course. It is a great honour, or so I¡¯ve been led to believe, and one that will not be very easy to capitalise on.¡±


    There was a murmur around the class.


    Mr Periwinkle leaned back in his chair and surveyed the group. ¡°From my understanding, of the previous nine inductees from last year¡¯s course, exactly none managed to win a place at the Royal College.¡±


    There was more murmuring, increased in intensity at this news.


    ¡°This state of affairs isn¡¯t exactly unprecedented,¡± he continued. ¡°There have been several times over the school¡¯s long and illustrious history that the brightest and best the school had to offer were neither bright nor best enough.¡± He smiled, revealing a gap between his front two teeth.


    From what Nic could gather, Mr Periwinkle didn¡¯t have a very high opinion of the students he had been placed in supervision of. His words were very plain and neutral, but there was a contemptuous undertone to them.


    ¡°But the Royal College must have fresh blood, new meat for the table. The master chefs, however, do not go into the coop to slaughter chickens themselves. They leave that to the butcher. That¡¯s where Peri Periwinkle comes in.¡± He patted himself on his broad chest. ¡°I have been tasked with making sure this year¡¯s crop doesn¡¯t wither on the vine. I will be pushing you harder than ever before, and if you don¡¯t end up hating me for it, it will mean I haven¡¯t pushed you hard enough.¡±


    A hand went up. Nic leaned forward to see past Simole. The hand belonged to a young, fearless (Nic had to assume) man by the name of Carol Rev. Nic didn¡¯t really know him, had never spoken to him, but his name was very clearly etched into Nic¡¯s memory. He had come first in the end of year exams.


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°Are you a mage of the Royal College, sir?¡±


    It was the question everyone was wondering, but too wary to ask. Nobody wanted to advertise their ignorance this early. Carol Rev was probably bolstered by his recent success and was willing to take a leading role in the class. It was the right move, in Nic¡¯s opinion. Strike while the iron¡¯s hot.


    ¡°A mage?¡± said Mr Periwinkle. ¡°Not exactly, no. I was, until recently, a member of the Royal College¡¯s faculty, in a training capacity.¡±


    Nic had no idea what that meant. He trained mages, but wasn¡¯t one himself? Or maybe he trained the college¡¯s guard dogs, and had been thought the most suitable person for this job.


    ¡°All you need to know about me is that I am here out of necessity for a firm hand. Ask any of my previous students and they¡¯ll either turn pale or blush bright red. None of them will smile fondly. Peri Periwinkle is a fiend, they¡¯ll tell you. A demon in human form. Arrogant, ruthless, unrelenting. A drunk! This last of course is slander, and anyone repeating such a claim will be soundly thrashed. The one thing I can guarantee is that you will not soon forget your time under Peri Periwinkle. Any more questions?¡±


    As far as Nic could tell, the previous question hadn¡¯t been answered yet. It wasn¡¯t clear who or what Peri Periwinkle was, or what exactly he was meant to teach them. Perhaps it was all part of the process. A lateral form of teaching that required students to think for themselves; it wouldn¡¯t be the first time.


    ¡°No? Good. Then let me tell you how I plan to prepare you for the Royal College. First, though, let me warn you. A mage of the Royal College told me I would die surrounded by the terrified young. I hope none of you find that too upsetting.¡± His pale eyebrows rose.


    Nic wasn¡¯t sure why Mr Periwinkle thought the students would be upset to be warned about the prophesied scenario. It wasn¡¯t their deaths that were being foretold.


    ¡°Everything else that mage told me has come true, so we¡¯ll see how things go. After this class, if I survive, I intend to retire and knit scarves in front of a fire, the way my grandpa did before me.¡± Mr Periwinkle pushed himself back in the chair to view the class with a greater field of view. ¡°We¡¯ll get to know each other in good time, but let me take your names. I keep a list of my students in this book.¡± He held up the blue book. ¡°You, young man, your name?¡±


    ¡°Carol Revo, sir.¡±


    ¡°Ah, yes. First in the examinations, correct? Well done, young man. I¡¯ll be expecting much of you. And you?¡±


    ¡°Brillard Epsteem, sir.¡±


    ¡°Headmaster Epsteem¡¯s son, of course. I hope there won¡¯t be any tales told around the dinner table about what happens inside these walls. Everything we discuss in here is to remain confidential.¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir,¡± said Brill.


    ¡°And your name, young lady?¡±


    ¡°Delzina Delcroix.¡±


    ¡°My condolences, Miss Delcroix. Your father¡¯s passing was a great loss.¡± He paused to wipe his nose with a large white handkerchief, which disappeared back into his breast pocket. ¡°Now, would it be fair to say your exam result were rather below expectation?¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir.¡±


    ¡°A difficult time for you, I¡¯m sure, but I believe the main issue was that your project presentation was rejected on grounds of being a threat to national security, is that right?¡±


    ¡°That is what I was told, yes.¡± Dizzy¡¯s answer was cool and temperate. Nic could tell she was still seething about the disqualification.


    ¡°You don¡¯t think a thorough examination of the Secret Service¡¯s methods and tactics, including a fully indexed list of their current capabilities, was against the nation¡¯s interests?¡±


    A flutter of surprise passed through the other students. There was the mildest of shrugs from Dizzy.


    ¡°And yet you were still allowed to join this class, by agreeing to not make your findings public. I believe the term is blackmail.¡±


    ¡°No, sir. I was given special dispensation on account of my father¡¯s passing. My previous record speaks for itself.¡±


    ¡°Special dispensation, yes, I see. Well, you¡¯re here now. I hope you can prove yourself worthy.¡±


    ¡°The feeling is mutual, sir.¡±


    Mr Periwinkle started at the ambiguity of her answer ¡ª which Nic didn¡¯t consider ambiguous at all ¡ª but regained his composure. He moved on swiftly. ¡°And you are?¡±


    ¡°Simole van Dastan.¡±


    ¡°Ah, well, yes, of course. I feel we¡¯re assured of at least one entrant into the Royal College this year.¡±


    Simole was using her real name this year, now that her father was no longer considered an enemy of the state and was once more the Archmage. The news didn¡¯t cause much of a fuss; if anything, people were relieved to have an explanation for what had appeared utterly baffling. Of course she was the Archmage¡¯s daughter. That made sense of everything. An answer always satisfied when it plugged multiple holes at once.


    ¡°And your father,¡± said Periwinkle, ¡°he is satisfied with your presence in this institution?¡±


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you ask him?¡± said Simole.


    Periwinkle smiled. ¡°I did. He suggested I ask you. And now, you, sir.¡±


    ¡°Nicolav Tutt, sir.¡±


    ¡°Another name I¡¯ve been warned about. So far we¡¯ve had a student who fell well short of the required test scores, one who has no need to be here, and you, Mr Tutt, who didn¡¯t even apply to join this class. Your exam results were also lacking. In fact, you didn¡¯t even hand in a project presentation. And yet, here you are, a member of the most elite division Ransom has.¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir.¡±


    ¡°How is that so?¡±


    ¡°Archmage van Dastan insisted, sir.¡±


    ¡°Did he? And why would he do that? No.¡± He raised a hand to stop Nic before he could answer. ¡°Let me guess. I should ask him, mm?¡±


    Nic nodded. He was starting to like Peri Periwinkle. His manner was odd for a teacher, but it was about right for the students he¡¯d been saddled with. Anything less than bewildering would have given the course members far too great an advantage over him.


    ¡°It really must be very galling for the other prospective candidates when they see the three of you taking their rightful places.¡± He paused, waiting for some kind of rejoinder, perhaps. He was met with silence. ¡°And you, young lady?¡±


    ¡°Rumi Kettle, sir,¡± said the girl. Nic hadn¡¯t seen her before today. She was short and had dark hair that fell over her face so it was hard to tell what she looked like.


    Mr Periwinkle finished writing the names of each of the six students into his blue book.


    ¡°Excellent. The six of you are this years premiere students, apparently, and it is left to me to assess if you are worthy of a place in the Royal College. How will we fare, I wonder? If I manage to whip all six of you into shape, I imagine it¡¯ll be seen as a sign of the world coming to an end.¡± Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    He chuckled to himself. The students didn¡¯t join in. He closed the book.


    ¡°Good, that¡¯s fine. Now, as I was saying, my syllabus for the coming year. As I¡¯m sure you will not be surprised to learn, the actual methods of the Arts Course are kept very hush hush. Part of the testing is to allow little to no preparation. You will be made aware of what is required of you at the last moment, if not later. This is the system. You must prevail by your wits. I will keep a record in my book here.¡± He tapped the closed book. ¡°My recommendation is final, and my superiors will not allow appeals or complaints. I am your only judge until the end of the school year. Any questions?¡±


    No one spoke. They were all still trying to absorb this strange man¡¯s strange methods. Had all Arts Course instructors been like him? It was a hard thing to believe but then it was not a regular part of the school¡¯s curriculum.


    ¡°Very good. Until we meet again.¡± He rose to his feet, stepped down from the small dais the desk sat on, and departed.


    The silence continued for a moment, and then Brill said, ¡°What the blazes was that all about?¡±


    ¡°I think he might be an escaped lunatic,¡± said Carol Revo, ¡°who killed the real instructor and is impersonating him to stay hidden from the authorities.¡±


    ¡°Why did he leave in the middle of class?¡± said Dizzy, the irritation heavy in her voice. ¡°We still have half an hour to go.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps it¡¯s a test,¡± said Brill. ¡°I expect things aren¡¯t going to be as simple as reading assigned books and handing in homework. Some initiative will need to be shown.¡±


    Simole yawned.


    ¡°What do you think he did at the Royal College?¡± asked Rumi Kettle. Her voice was small but insistent. ¡°He said he wasn¡¯t a mage, but he trained them? What?¡±


    ¡°He didn¡¯t say he trained mages,¡± said Carol. ¡°He said he was a member of the faculty in a training capacity. That could mean anything. He probably trained the canteen staff in puddings and pastries, judging by the size of his belly.¡±


    ¡°Please, a little respect,¡± said Brill. ¡°He¡¯s still a teacher at Ransom.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll say what I please, thank you very much,¡± said Carol. ¡°Let¡¯s not forget our relative positions after the exams. The school has a new pecking order.¡± He primped with smugness.


    ¡°Be quiet,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°You¡¯re not even in the top three in this room.¡±


    Carol seemed like he wanted to say something, but whatever it was, he kept it to himself and pouted instead. Nic listened to them bicker with no real feelings about the matter. If Mr Periwinkle had been chosen to teach them, he most likely was qualified to do so. Denkne had also been qualified, but he had taken a rather indirect route. Nic hoped the same wouldn¡¯t be the case here, not that he really cared about passing the course. Archmage van Dastan had written to him, suggesting (strongly) that Nic take the place he was being offered ¡ª this was before any offer had been made ¡ª as a personal favour.


    How do you turn down the Archmage? He wasn¡¯t sure what the favour was, just that it would mean being around Simole. Was he supposed to keep an eye on her? She hardly needed his supervision, nor would she allow it. Perhaps she was meant to keep an eye on him.


    And, of course, it also meant being nearer Dizzy. Not that he envisioned anything coming of it. He had avoided saying anything to her and made as little eye contact as possible. She seemed to approve.


    The others continued to speculate about what they were supposed to do now. Nic got to his feet and headed for the door, brow furrowed with thought.


    ¡°You can¡¯t leave,¡± said Brill. ¡°We haven¡¯t been dismissed.¡±


    ¡°He isn¡¯t leaving,¡± said Simole. She nodded toward the recently vacated desk. ¡°His bag.¡±


    A book bag was still on the floor, leaning against the leg of Nic¡¯s chair.


    Nic leaned out of the doorway and looked into the corridor. Peri Periwinkle stood with his back to the wall, his book in his hand, making notes.


    ¡°Excuse me, sir,¡± he said like he had expected him to be there. ¡°Can we leave now?¡±


    ¡°No, not yet,¡± said Periwinkle. He walked past Nic, back into the classroom. He returned to his desk, sat down, put the book on the desk, open.


    ¡°Mr Revo, you seem to have a sharp tongue that is quick to judgement. A mage requires an even temperament, something you should work on. Mr Epsteen, I commend your caution, but a mage also needs to show curiosity, investigate the unknown, know when to take a risk. Miss Delcroix, you have a firm grasp on the tiller, but you don¡¯t play well with others. Not a flaw when it comes to mastering Arcanum, but endless clashes will leave you exhausted. Miss van Dastan, you don¡¯t need my recommendation, but perhaps a little advice. There are still things for you to learn. You are ahead of all of us here, but improvements can still be made. Mr Tutt, the quiet one who likes to gather information for analysis. It must be wonderful to be so penetrating. I wonder if you are able to convert your words into action. And Miss Kettle. Curious and probing. Do you really believe your ambition goes unnoticed? A mage can¡¯t afford to be disingenuous. It will ruin you internally. I mean physically, it will rip your guts out.¡±


    He closed the book and leaned back in the chair. ¡°Listen closely, I do not care to repeat myself. Take notes if you wish, but keep them private. A mage is not an education, it is a transformation. The body must withstand great forces, as must the mind. Both must be resilient. Unbreakable.


    ¡°Some are naturally born thus, others need to train themselves to the appropriate level. There will be no attempt, no willingness to try. You must be tough enough or not at all. And let me tell you, ladies, it is much harder on the female physique. That isn¡¯t discrimination, it is merely a matter of fact. It is possible, but it is difficult. Much more difficult. Vast cosmic forces will be trying to shear your bodies in half, and half again.


    ¡°We will work to achieve the ideal and perhaps you will get close enough. We shall see. That will be all for today.¡± Once more Peri Periwinkle walked out. This time there were no comments after his departure.


    ***


    Nic met Davo and Fanny at the cafeteria. Davo was reading from a book held in one hand while he forked food into his mouth with the other. Fanny was scribbling diagrams into a notebook where every page was already filled while a full plate of food cooled untouched.


    ¡°I hope he isn¡¯t another maniac like Denke,¡± said Davo after Nic had given them a quick summary of his first Arts Course.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think so,¡± said Nic. ¡°I hope not. Fingers crossed.¡±


    ¡°Your confidence is very reassuring. I expect an extinction-level demonic event is on the way. Fanny, prepare more worthless magic devices. I have feeling damsels in distress will need to be fraudulently comforted.¡±


    ¡°Your sneering is inaccurate,¡± said Fanny without looking up. ¡°The comfort was a hundred percent effective. It was only the actual saving from certain death that was bogus.¡±


    ¡°Well, good job, then. Considering how cheap it is to manufacture empty boxes, I foresee your imminent ascendency to the filthy rich in no time. Your marketing slogan should be: The secret ingredient is hope.¡±


    ¡°Mm hmm,¡± said Fanny.


    ¡°What¡¯s he doing?¡± asked Nic.


    ¡°No idea,¡± said Davo. ¡°He¡¯s been working on some new contraption all morning. I think the disappointment of not getting on the Arts Course has driven him to burying himself in work.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not disappointed,¡± said Fanny.


    ¡°No?¡± said Davo. ¡°I thought it was your great dream, to become a mage like your dear old pater.¡±


    ¡°The only one desperate for their pater¡¯s approval is you,¡± said Fanny. ¡°My issue is one of trying to avoid being smothered. And I¡¯ve already secured a place at the Royal College, so it makes no difference.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Davo, ¡°but not as a mage.¡±


    ¡°Considering what we now know about what it takes to become a mage, I¡¯ve reevaluated my goals. Those two are suddenly very chummy, don¡¯t you think?¡±


    Fanny moved his head just enough to indicate a direction. The cafeteria was full of children, every table filled, but there was no mistaking who Fanny was referring to. Simole and Dizzy sat at a table for six, just the two of them. No one dared to ask if they could sit with them, which was entirely understandable.


    Fanny looked at Davo. ¡°What do you think they¡¯re talking about?¡±


    ¡°Oh, you know, boys, dresses, the end of the world and how to correctly accessorise for it. The usual girly stuff.¡±


    ¡°I expect they¡¯re making plans,¡± said Nic, ¡°for when they take over Ranvar and make us all their loyal subjects.¡±


    ¡°I think they¡¯re talking about you,¡± said Fanny.


    ¡°Me?¡± said Nic. ¡°I don¡¯t think so. I¡¯m yesterday¡¯s news. Neither of them have said two words to me since we got back.¡±


    ¡°Isn¡¯t it about time you retired the ¡®who me?¡¯ face?¡± said Davo. ¡°Miss Delcroix¡¯s father knew from the start you were going to play a role in whatever was about to happen, as did the Librarian. And the Archmage went to great lengths to ensure your continued involvement. Still is, from what I can see. Any fool can see you are tied to this whole farrago at the deepest level. And those two aren¡¯t fools.¡±


    Nic put his knife and fork on the empty plate in front of him and let out a breath. ¡°Yes, you¡¯re right. In all likeliness, they¡¯ve decided to join forces to keep an eye on me and prepare a suitable tactic for preventing me getting in their way. They probably assume some new catastrophe will befall us and I¡¯ll be in the middle of it, and they¡¯ll want to control, manipulate or coerce me into giving them full power of attorney over whatever small influence I might end up with. I don¡¯t think they trust me to handle it myself or have the good sense to let them take over without being forced to.¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± said Davo, ¡°you seem to have a pretty strong grasp of the situation. I apologise for doubting you.¡±


    Nic smiled. ¡°I¡¯m just surprised you two aren¡¯t over there plotting with them.¡±


    ¡°You must be joking,¡± said Fanny, putting his book away and starting on his untouched lunch. ¡°They think even less of us than they do of you.¡±


    ¡°Of course he¡¯s joking,¡± said Davo.


    Fanny took a bite of his sausage. ¡°Why is this cold?¡±


    ¡°Maybe because you¡¯ve been sitting there drawing pictures for the last twenty minutes.


    ¡°Ah, allow me to join you,¡± said Brill, sitting down next to Nic. ¡°I thought you¡¯d be finished by now.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re waiting on Master Barstowe,¡± said Davo. ¡°He chews very slowly to extract the maximum nutrients from each mouthful.¡±


    ¡°Very commendable,¡± said Brill. ¡°I chew each mouthful thirty-two times, once for each tooth.¡±


    ¡°Can we sit with you,¡± said a skinny boy in need of a haircut. Three other boys stood with him.


    ¡°Yes, yes,¡± said Davo. ¡°You realise you don¡¯t have to sit at this table. Also-Rans have the full run of the place, you know? We fought the indignities of discrimination so you youngsters would have the freedoms we were denied.¡±


    The four new Also-Rans looked confused, standing with their trays of food.


    ¡°Sit, sit,¡± said Davo.


    ¡°Hey, Brill,¡± said Fanny, ¡°you see that girl over there? The one with all the frizzy hair. Do you know her name.¡±


    Brill craned his neck to look. ¡°Oh, yes, of course.¡±


    ¡°What is it?¡±


    ¡°Sorry, I can¡¯t tell you.¡±


    ¡°What? Why not?¡±


    ¡°Because you should reap what you sow,¡± said Davo.


    ¡°It¡¯s for your own good,¡± said Brill as he rearranged his food on his plate.


    A genial argument broke out about the nature of unwelcome interventions. As students of military history, everyone had an opinion.


    Nic turned and looked at the two girls across the cafeteria. They were deep in conversation, like old friends. They seemed relaxed and comfortable in each other¡¯s company. It was concerning.


    ***


    Nic lay on his bed. His classes were much harder now and all the more enjoyable for it. Staying busy was a good thing, it kept his mind active. But at night everything stopped. The night was when she would visit him and he would have to find ways to keep her distracted. Eventually, he would fail and then there would be a price to pay. He would need to come up with a contingency before that happened.


    The tricky part was knowing who to side with when the moment came. Winnum Roke might be insane, but there were worse things out there.


    He waited, dozing.


    ¡°I thought you would be exercising. Preparing your body for transformation.¡±


    Nic turned his head. A silhouette sat on the window sill, legs hanging down inside the room. He hadn¡¯t heard the window open.


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to be a mage,¡± he said. ¡°No point preparing my body.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t suppose there¡¯s enough room for three of you in there.,¡± said Simole. Nic didn¡¯t say anything. ¡°I know you brought Winnum Roke back with you, Nic.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve got it under control.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re no match for her.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t improve by taking on those weaker than you,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°You don¡¯t improve if you end up dead,¡± said Simole.


    ¡°Depends what you can learn from the experience. Trial and error is a valid approach.¡±


    ¡°Has she tried to take over yet? Does she invade your dreams?¡±


    Nic had been expecting a house call at some point either Simole or Dizzy. He was glad it wasn¡¯t both of them at once. He put his hands behind his head and looked up at the dark ceiling. ¡°Now that you mention it, I have been having some weird dreams lately. The same one, actually, over and over. I¡¯m working for Minister Delcroix, in the ministry. I think I¡¯m his assistant or secretary, it isn¡¯t clear. It¡¯s a good job. Good pay, good hours. Sometimes, the minister brings his grandson to work. Dizzy¡¯s son. I don¡¯t know who the father is, but we get on very well, me and the boy. He complains about his bossy mother and I give him advice about how to handle her. He makes mean jokes about her that are very funny. The husband is afraid of her and hides himself in his work, I think. I¡¯m not sure what Dizzy does, but she¡¯s far too pushy with the boy. He doesn¡¯t like to be told what to do. He reminds me of her.¡±


    ¡°Tell me,¡± said Simole. ¡°This boy in your dream, is his name Femi?¡±


    ¡°How did you know that?¡± asked Nic, genuinely surprised.


    ¡°Because she¡¯s been having the same dream.¡±


    Nic sat up in the bed. ¡°What does that mean?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. Perhaps you¡¯re seeing the future.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think so,¡± said Nic. ¡°Not unless Dizzy¡¯s father plans to come back to life. It¡¯s just a dream.¡±


    ¡°It may not be that literal. Or maybe it¡¯s nothing. There is one difference between your dream and hers.¡±


    ¡°Yes? What?¡±


    ¡°She knows who the boy¡¯s father is.¡±


    ¡°Who?¡± said Nic. He turned to the window, but it was empty.

 Book 2: Chapter Two

    It was a grey and dreary day and Nic woke feeling tired and uneasy. After lying in bed wishing he could go back to sleep he decided he was hungry and got up.


    His nights weren¡¯t very restful and he suspected he was being worn out on purpose, putting him into a weary state that would make him vulnerable to the influences of nefarious forces. The battlefield was his own mind, a place he considered within his control, but that might change if he became exhausted by his nighttime adventures. He would have to be careful to conserve his energy. Or he could just take a nap after lunch.


    Nic padded into the small kitchen wearing the slippers his mother had bought him as a gift. Completing the first year as a Ransom Upperclassman was both not as great an achievement as she thought, and far greater one than he was willing to admit to her.


    ¡°You look awful,¡± said Fanny.


    ¡°Thanks.¡± He took one of the six slices of toast on Fanny¡¯s plate. They weren¡¯t for sharing and Fanny gave him a pained look as though he¡¯d been saddened by a betrayal.


    ¡°I mean it. You¡¯re all pale and your eyes are bloodshot. Are you not getting enough sleep?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s probably staying up late reading,¡± said Davo, who had just come out of the shower room at the back of the kitchen. He was in a dark blue bathrobe with his initials monogrammed onto the lapel. With his hair wet and messy he almost looked his age for once. ¡°Read and read and read, the life of Nic Tutt. He reads to completion and then goes back to the front page and reads some more.¡±


    ¡°I haven¡¯t been staying up any later than normal,¡± said Nic, feeling better now he had something in his stomach. ¡°Just a bit restless.¡±


    ¡°Davo has the same problem,¡± said Fanny. ¡°He has a recurring nightmare where an expensive item is mislabelled and he has to sell it for a lot less than its worth. Wakes up screaming.¡±


    ¡°Stop blathering, you imbecile,¡± said Davo, taking a slice of toast. ¡°And who wouldn¡¯t experience night terrors if they imagined something that alarming?¡±


    Brill walked in to see what was going on, already dressed, and helped himself to a slice, much to Fanny¡¯s dismay.


    The four of them were the occupants of the lower floor of the cottage, while the new Also-Rans were installed above. They had been given the choice to join the other students in the dorms, but they had decided to stay where they were. The new boys, nervous in their new surroundings, had decided it would be better to stay with their own kind.


    Brill had moved into Simole¡¯s room after she died, nominally speaking. She had decided not to move back in after her return to the land of the living, and had installed herself in the girls¡¯ dorm with her new best friend. Nic hadn¡¯t seen much of her outside of classes and the occasional midnight visit at his window.


    ¡°This is very good,¡± said Brill taking dainty bites that somehow circumvented the production of crumbs. ¡°Although I¡¯m not sure why you feel the need to eat before we have breakfast.¡±


    ¡°Just a habit I got into,¡± said Fanny. He grabbed another slice of toast and then picked up the plate to keep a closer eye on the last piece. ¡°You never know when disaster might strike and prevent us getting to the cafeteria in time.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Davo, ¡°truly a tragedy to be feared. Well, I¡¯ll be ready in a minute. Don¡¯t leave without me.¡± He brushed crumbs off his front and went to his room.


    There was a thunder of feet as the first years came down the stairs, running around Davo.


    ¡°We¡¯re going,¡± shouted one.


    ¡°See you there,¡± said another.


    They were gone in a flash.


    ¡°They have no idea,¡± said Davo, shaking his head. ¡°No idea, at all.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± said Fanny. ¡°Maybe they¡¯ll have a wonderful time at Ransom and make great memories. We made the world a little better for others which is the whole point, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°Yes, of course,¡± said Brill, reaching for the last piece of toast. Fanny yanked the plate away to the other side. Nic caught it as it slid off the edge and went back into his room to get changed.


    The four of them walked across the campus to the cafeteria, as they did each morning before going off to their separate classes. The number of classes in the second year of the Upper Class were reduced as students chose three specialised subjects to focus on.


    Most Ransom students already had their futures mapped out for them. Their families had traditions hundreds of years of old. Their parents, grandparents, ancestors, they all proudly performed the same roles. It was what family in Ranvar was all about ¡ª continued stability. In the government, in the army, in some other role that served the betterment of Ranvar.


    Ransom was where they could prepare for that role. A broad education to make ready for their entry into adult society, and training in specific vocations for their awaiting employment. There was a surety to it that even someone like Nic found comforting.


    There was a morning chill in the air. The cafeteria would have only been a few steps away if they had accepted a place in the second year dorms, but the walk was doing Nic good, helping to clear his head.


    His first lesson was Military Strategy, which was usually an elective for those planning to go directly from Ransom into the Ranvar Military Academy, most probably for officer training. They would receive more of the same there but the added prestige of arriving with an academic background in tactical thinking would help mark them out. Their family connections would get them in, but the armed forces were no place for favouritism, at least not until a certain standard had been met.


    Nic had no intention of joining up, even though his father had been a soldier. He hadn¡¯t been an officer, though. Nic just happened to enjoy the subject and he had to choose three classes, as all second years had to. He still envisioned getting a government job, he knew it was what would make his mother happiest, although the offer to join the Ministry of Instruction no longer awaited him. His other electives were Advanced Economic Analysis and the Arts Course.


    Military Strategy and Economic Analysis covered most of the ministries that might hire him as a clerk, and the Arts Course would get him into the Royal College.


    He had no intention of going there, either. He had never seen himself as a mage, and even less so now that he knew how magedom was achieved.


    They arrived at the cafeteria along with most of the other students and made their way to the usual table, where the first years were already seated and nearly finished.


    ¡°What¡¯s your first lesson?¡± Nic asked Fanny.


    ¡°Herbology,¡± replied Fanny carefully placing his heavily burdened tray. He had a full selection from the breakfast menu, plus an extra portion of toast to make up for his early morning losses.


    ¡°You¡¯ll make a wonderful gardener when you get to the Royal College,¡± said Davo.


    Fanny¡¯s reasons for taking Herbology had nothing to do with plants. It was the only department in Ransom that used Arcanum, be it in a restricted form. The herb detectors were very simply constructed devices, but the Herbology teaching staff were trained in their use and their repair. Which made them useful advisors as Fanny developed his interest in Arcanum-based technology.


    ¡°It¡¯s actually quite fascinating how exposure to Arcanum has changed the flora of Ranvar over the centuries,¡± said Fanny in between bites. ¡°It¡¯s given me a lot of ideas of how to artificially replicate some of the same features. Boost the signal organically.¡±


    ¡°It does sound fascinating,¡± said Davo with a deeply sarcastic undertone. ¡°A shame you don¡¯t have access to any actual Arcanum.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s always Simole,¡± said Fanny.


    ¡°And when was the last time she even acknowledged your existence?¡± said Davo. ¡°Or any of us?¡±


    Fanny didn¡¯t reply and finished his breakfast. After that they split up to go to their separate ways.


    Nic was the first student to arrive in an empty classroom. Second-year classes tended to be smaller, anywhere between four and ten students. With no need to take classes that didn¡¯t interest you, lessons became intense affairs, where everyone was keenly paying attention and no one was bashful when it came to pointing out someone else¡¯s mistake. It was quite a lot of fun.


    Nic sat down at the front, in the middle. No longer did he have to worry about sitting to the rear, making an effort to remain inconspicuous. If someone didn¡¯t wish to sit next to him, that was their issue.


    Of course, no one had reason to treat him like that anymore. He was part of the school, no less so because of the special treatment he received. In fact, that only served to make him more of a typical Ransom student.


    Being enrolled on the Arts Course only underlined this. He was part of the school elite, there was no disputing that. And you certainly didn¡¯t want to offend someone who might go on to become a mage.


    If the student body was well-versed in anything, it was the understanding that not all students were equal. Some stood out as higher value individuals, and everyone acted accordingly.


    Acting accordingly was very much a Ransom thing. It was very much a Ranvar thing, also.


    Nic found himself nodding off as he sat with his elbows on the desk and his chin on the heel of a palm. A warm, fuzzy sensation lulled him to the point where his head slipped off his hand; fortunately, no serious injuries were incurred.


    A few minutes later his classmates arrived, all fifteen of them. Military Strategy was one of the more popular choices. Military service was the ultimate destination of at least a third of the student body, according to statistics Nic had unearthed (and then quietly reburied in the library stacks).


    They sat down around and behind him, chatting and settling in for a two-hour stint. Lessons were more intense and more protracted. When he casually looked to the side, he found Dizzy sitting next to him, returning his gaze with a look of cold inquiry. He turned face front as Mr Varity bustled in.


    There was no surprise at Dizzy¡¯s presence, she had chosen the exact same classes as Nic, most likely for the exact same reasons. It wasn¡¯t even that surprising that she would sit next to him. She always sat at the front, so she would need to be on one side of his or the other. Did she think he had purposefully arranged for that to be the case? Had he?Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.


    Despite having accepted the lack of enthusiasm she had for any kind of relationship with him, Nic found it difficult to abandon all hope. The future could turn out any number of ways, and while he couldn¡¯t shape it to his will, he could keep himself available for any course corrections.


    It was a foolish and childish way to console himself, but he was a child, and more likely than not a fool. Analysing himself was always a source of amusement. It was hard to fathom how his life had turned out so far, or where it would go from here. He should be grateful, he tried to convince himself, that at least it held his interest.


    ¡°Stop smiling like that,¡± said Dizzy under her breath. ¡°You look like an idiot.¡±


    Nic snapped his mouth back into a straight line of indeterminate emotion and kept his eyes on Mr Varity as though he hadn¡¯t heard Dizzy¡¯s admonishment.


    Mr Varity was busy drawing on the chalkboard, marking out troop positions from some battle that was about to reveal a multitude of layered thinking.


    ¡°You look terrible,¡± Dizzy continued to mutter. ¡°You¡¯re fighting to keep control, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    Nic didn¡¯t respond. There was nothing to say. Did she want hourly updates? Perhaps her choice of classes were due to him. Perhaps she wanted to keep an eye on him.


    He had accepted that his original goal ¡ª to get closer to Dizzy ¡ª was no longer feasible. But the result of that was that he had lost a lot of his ardour for learning. His mind often wandered during classes, on flights of fancy of no consequence. Drifting and aimless.


    He lacked purpose. He needed purpose. He had found it in his nocturnal dueals with Winnum Roke. He wasn¡¯t about to give that up, too.


    In the back of his mind, though, was the constant doubt that this was not all his own idea. He had been manipulated before, and Winnum Roke was no less adept at it than the demons.


    ¡°Life is a struggle,¡± Nic muttered back, and then winced as Dizzy kicked him in the shin. He scowled to prevent his mouth opening and releasing the yelp that had jumped up his throat. He wasn¡¯t angry at her, more at himself. He should have known that was coming.


    Mr Varity continued to add detail to his ever more complex rendering in chalk. Some sort of pincer formation, it looked like.


    Nic leaned slightly towards Dizzy and whispered, ¡°Have you had any weird dreams lately?¡±


    He lifted his foot as Dizzy¡¯s darted under it. He leaned back to avoid the elbow casually thrown at his ribs, and then tipped his chair away from her as she raised her pen to fire it at any number of targets on his body. He also hooked his foot under her chair leg so that as he leaned away, she was sent toppling in the opposite direction.


    Dizzy stood up as the chair fell, somehow managing to step over and onto her falling seat so she ended up standing on the chair that was now laying on its side.


    Mr Varity turned around at the noise to find Delzina Delcroix standing to attention, towering over her desk. He raised an inquisitive eyebrow. ¡°Miss Delcroix?¡±


    ¡°My chair became unbalanced,¡± said Dizzy, as though there was nothing unusual about it.


    ¡°I see,¡± said Mr Varity, although the furrow of his brow suggested he didn¡¯t really. ¡°Perhaps you would like to swap it for one less unbalanced?¡±


    Dizzy stamped on one side and the chair tipped back up as she lowered herself onto it. ¡°It¡¯s alright now. I fixed it.¡± She sat down, very deliberately not looking in Nic¡¯s direction.


    Nic was not very athletic. Certainly nowhere near the level Dizzy was. But he had years of practice when it came to avoiding Dizzy¡¯s attempted assaults. He just needed a little time to warm up.


    The next lesson was Advance Economic Analysis, and Dizzy chose not to sit next to Nic. Davo was in this class and was happy to replace her, even though he had no idea that was what he was doing.


    ¡°This class is so easy,¡± said Davo. ¡°I expect to be challenging you for the top spot.¡±


    ¡°Good luck,¡± said Nic.


    Davo gave him a hard stare. ¡°There¡¯s no need to be quite so vicious.¡±


    Nic smiled apologetically. He hadn¡¯t intended it that way, of course, but sometimes he forgot he had status now, and words dropped from on high gained momentum.


    ¡°It seems unfair to allow a merchant¡¯s son into this class,¡± said the girl sitting on Davo¡¯s other side. ¡°What is a merchant other than a parasite who makes nothing, grows nothing and spends his time counting other people¡¯s hard-earned money? Have you no shame?¡±


    ¡°No more than our customers,¡± said Davo, no rancour in his voice. ¡°As I recall, we have dealt with your family to our mutual benefit on several occasions, Miss Miggets.¡±


    ¡°Miggets-Hanover,¡± said the girl tartly.


    Miggets Department Store was the direct competition to Conoling & Son. They were the older firm and better known, and they had also married into nobility so that one half of the family considered itself better than the other. It hadn¡¯t hurt the business, though. Their higher standing attracted a wealthier clientele.


    It was one of the reasons Davo had thought to come to Ransom, to increase his own firm¡¯s standing among the well-to-do. It hadn¡¯t worked out the way he had hoped in the first year, but he had been doing better this term. Not making friends, as such, more acquaintances and, in some cases, customers, which was even better. Which had brought him to the attention of Miss Miggets-Hanover, a tall, willowy beauty whose face fully embodied the aristocratic half of her bloodline whenever in Davo¡¯s presence, her lips curled in disgust at the sight of him.


    Davo, however, was very practised when it came to dealing with haughty young ladies. He maybe even enjoyed it.


    Nic considered their feud another example of appropriate badinage for children of their age. Who knew, it might even lead to a spark of romance and the eventual merging of their two great companies. Although judging by the sheer contempt on the Miss Miggets-Hanover¡¯s face, perhaps not.


    After lunch Nic had the Arts Course. Another chance for Peri Periwinkle to astound and confound his charges. The six students watched him intently as he leaned back in his chair, mere centimetres from tipping over. They all expected him to posit something absurd.


    ¡°How do we understand the nature of magic when explanation is the death of poetry?¡± said Mr Periwinkle, refusing to disappoint. ¡°The craftsman disguises his joins, the surgeon attempts the smallest of incisions, the clockmaker hides the intricate machinery behind a functional facade. Nobody wants you to be able to see the methods employed from the outside. Then how do we deconstruct what we have before us in order to reconstruct it in our own image?¡±


    His question was met with silence.


    ¡°I will tell you,¡± said Mr Periwinkle. ¡°I will tell you by setting you a simple task. I wish you to come up with a method to prove whether unicorns exist.¡± The silence was joined by a plethora of blank faces. ¡°You all know what a unicorn is, you¡¯ve read about them in books and such, yes? You also know they are mythical and most probably a figment of some writer¡¯s imagination. How would you prove it, though?¡±


    Carol Rev raised his hand.


    ¡°Yes, Mr Rev.¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t prove a negative, sir.¡±


    ¡°Are you being insolent, Mr Rev?¡± Periwinkle¡¯s dark eyes glittered with suspicion.


    ¡°No, sir,¡± said Carol Rev, his voice quavering. ¡°I was trying to be helpful.¡±


    ¡°Please avoid attempting such things. If I ask you to formulate a theorem, I expect you to put your efforts into doing so, not questioning the question. It is a poor way to expend your energies.¡±


    ¡°I understand, sir, and shall cultivate the qualities you mention.¡±


    Periwinkle¡¯s eyes glittered again, but his cool gaze passed over the other students. ¡°Why don¡¯t you have a think about it, all of you. Feel free to confer.¡±


    He leaned back in his chair, put his feet up on the desk and opened his blue notebook, which he placed over his face.


    ¡°Any ideas?¡± asked Brill.


    ¡°The answer¡¯s obvious,¡± said Simole. The others turned to look at her, waiting for further details. ¡°I¡¯m not going to tell you. How will you ever learn anything if you always rely on others?¡±


    ¡°I was wondering about something, Miss van Dastan,¡± said Brill. ¡°What classes do you take apart from this one? Nobody I¡¯ve spoken to has mentioned seeing you in any of their lessons.¡±


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you stop wondering about things that don¡¯t concern you, Brillard?¡± said Dizzy.


    ¡°We were told to confer, so I¡¯m conferring,¡± said Brill in a lowered voice. ¡°I don¡¯t want him putting any demerits next to my name in that book of his. Which brings up something I was wondering about regarding yourself, Miss Delcroix. I noticed both you and Nic chose the same subjects for this year. I can¡¯t believe that¡¯s a coincidence.¡±


    ¡°What are you implying?¡± said Dizzy, unimpressed by Brill¡¯s curiosity.


    ¡°Nothing. It is a genuine query, that¡¯s all. I wouldn¡¯t like to think I missed out when I made my own selection.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s very simple, Mr Epsteem,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°Ranvar operates its national interests via two arms: war and money. The army and the banks. And not equally. The people who control the money control the people who control the army. Do you follow or should I speak slower.¡±


    ¡°That was the perfect speed,¡± said Brill, in a manner that Nic recognised as that of someone who had been dealing with Dizzy for many years. ¡°So it has nothing to do with staying as close to Nic as possible.¡±


    Nic flinched involuntarily on Brill¡¯s behalf, expecting a strike to be imminent, but there were no sudden moves.


    ¡°No,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°


    ¡°She¡¯s right, it¡¯s obvious,¡± said Carol almost jumping out of his chair. ¡°You just ask a mage. He¡¯ll cast a spell, speak to an oracle, look in his crystal ball or whatever, there¡¯s your answer.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said Simole.


    ¡°No?¡± said Carol. ¡°Why not?¡±


    ¡°That would only tell you there weren¡¯t any unicorns you could detect. There could still be one hidden by another mage. Or a demon. Magic can be used against you as well as for you.¡±


    ¡°Then it¡¯s impossible,¡± said Brill. ¡°He¡¯s right, you can¡¯t prove a negative.¡±


    ¡°You can,¡± said Nic. ¡°You can prove it wrong. All you have to do is create your own unicorn. There were no dragons once, and then someone used magic to create them. If you need to know one way or the other, you don¡¯t need to discover the answer, you can make your own.¡±


    ¡°And what,¡± said Mr Periwinkle, the book no longer on his face, ¡°if your purpose would be served better without unicorns existing? If you wished to learn if enemies of Ranvar conspired against the state, would you invent them? That would seem counterproductive.¡±


    ¡°That would be one way,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°A false flag to flush out the true dissenters. But there are many ways to discern something that simple. There¡¯s a big difference between proving something exists and finding something that is hidden, especially if it¡¯s trying to achieve its goals from its hiding place. Action betrays presence, and inaction is not worth worrying about. Your comparison is a little uninspired.¡±


    Mr Periwinkle picked up his pen and made a mark in his book. ¡°Yes, but the quality of my comparisons aside, Miss Delcroix, how are we to be certain? Why settle for less than a verified result?¡±


    There was a pause as the students considered the options, of which there appeared to be very few. Was it a trick question, designed to impress on them how little they knew? A thought experiment in humility, perhaps? Nic found it unlikely. There was an answer, Mr Periwinkle¡¯s tone and attitude strongly suggested it.


    Nic turned to Simole whose head was lolling with boredom. Her mood was difficult to read. Amused indifference, flippant disdain, she had become far more complex in her detachment since returning from her father¡¯s company. Nic would have liked to have spoken to her about many things but the problem was that she would ask questions in return, and he wasn¡¯t ready to answer them.


    If she did know the solution to Periwinkle¡¯s riddle ¡ª and there was no reason to doubt her claim that she did ¡ª the issue was not one of asking her to share her insight, it was that relying on her would end up becoming a crutch, just as she had intimated. She was the alpha predator on the field. Did it even matter what the rest of them did? He included the mages of the Royal College in that assessment.


    She had come to Ransom to experience what it was like to be a normal girl among her peers, but she would never be normal and no one here was even close to being her peer. So what did she want now?


    What did he want, more to the point?


    Her eye slowly slid to the side to meet his probing gaze and the two of them remained like that, neither backing down. She even looked like a predator, lazing inattentively as she waited for her unsuspecting prey to stroll past. No need to go hunt them unless¡­


    ¡°Oh,¡± said Nic. ¡°You don¡¯t create a unicorn, you create a unicorn hunter. Something that preys on unicorns, tracks them down and kills them.¡±


    ¡°And what kills unicorns, Mr Tutt?¡± asked Mr Periwinkle.


    ¡°Dragons,¡± said Simole.


    Mr Periwinkle¡¯s large forehead creased. ¡°I don¡¯t believe that to be true.¡±


    ¡°Prove it,¡± said Simole.


    Nic realised he had made a mistake. He had been wrong to keep himself apart from Simole out of fear his only role of any value or interest might be taken away from him. She would help him if he asked. And she wouldn¡¯t allow him to rely on her.


    He felt a weight lift from his shoulders. He turned and Dizzy was glaring at him. She was two seats away but she looked furious. If she¡¯d been any closer he would have ducked.

 Book 2: Chapter Three

    Nic took the unprecedented step to approach the table where Simole was eating her lunch. He stood up, leaving his own lunch untouched, and stepped out from the chair with a heavy lump of apprehension in his chest. The others gave him cursory glances, assuming he had forgotten a condiment or needed a clean fork. They would never imagine he would do something as bold as walk across the cafeteria straight towards Simole and Dizzy, which is what he did.


    It was likely, in Nic¡¯s mind, that Dizzy was upset with him and would remain so for the foreseeable future. There were many reasons that might be the case, not least of which the matter of his being a constant presence in her life when she had happily moved on (roughly five years ago).


    She might also be upset because he had access to a world that she herself was interested in entering but had so far been prevented from doing so. She might also be under the false impression that he was the one blocking her entry.


    It was complicated. Made more so by the lack of communication between them. That was partly his fault. And partly hers.


    Nic felt his nerve slipping as he wended his way through the tables, and his bowels grew queasy. He sped up so as to force himself no time for second thoughts. He concentrated on dodging students who suddenly sprang up after eating or reached out to grab a bottle of sauce on another table, swiftly switching directions and finding alternate routes like he was part of a dance involving the rest of the year without them knowing about it. The lunchtime rush was in full flow and no one paid him much attention. The constant babble of voices reassured him that his antics were of no concern to the rest of the school.


    No doubt his friends behind him had guessed his destination by now and were watching with dread fascination. They always displayed the same braced-for-impact expressions whenever one of their number was forced into direct conflict with either of the two girls. It was something of a tradition to assume the worst in the hope the actual outcome would be unable to live up to their fearful predictions and end up producing a sense of relief that at least it wasn¡¯t as bad as it could have been.


    Thinking about it in abstract terms ¡ª it helped to look at the situation as though it involved other people, preferably from the distant past and long dead ¡ª a person in Nic¡¯s position should have spoken up immediately after what had happened at the Royal College. The two girls would have responded in the moment, with no time to develop unnecessary suspicions about what he was up to. Whatever came of it, good or bad, could have been dealt with immediately and there would be a common understanding.


    What they¡¯d ended up with was a common misunderstanding. Each party had made assumptions about the other and then acted as though the only way to avoid any unpleasantness was to completely avoid each other. The unpleasantness that followed may have taken a different form, but it was still unpleasant. It certainly hadn¡¯t been avoided.


    The Winnum Roke issue was what had convinced Nic to allow the situation to carry on. It had been a drastic step and one he had made unilaterally. He had feared their reaction, but that was all it would have been. They couldn¡¯t actually change his decision or do anything about it, other than to report him to the Archmage. And they wouldn¡¯t do that, he was fairly sure.


    When he reached the table, neither Simole nor Dizzy looked up. Both were in the middle of eating and continued to do so as though it was terribly important to not let even one pea escape.


    They knew he was there. He stood silently, waiting for some reaction. They were deliberately trying to make him feel awkward, and doing a magnificent job of it.


    ¡°Simole,¡± he finally said.


    Dizzy was the one to look up, a cool gaze meeting his eyes, the lack of emotion in her face a deliberate choice rather than an act of indifference.


    Simole continued to eat.


    ¡°Simole,¡± said Dizzy, ¡°there¡¯s someone here for you.¡± There was a chill to her tone, but Nic had a great deal of experience with it and remembered her temper fondly. If anything, it warmed him.


    ¡°Who is it?¡± said Simole without looking up. ¡°Anyone interesting?¡±


    Nic felt the corners of his mouth curling up and fought to prevent them. They were playing with him but in the silliest way possible. Teenage girls were well known for their mean-spirited teasing, but there was no point pretending you couldn¡¯t see what was right in front of you. That just made you look like the foolish one.


    ¡°It¡¯s me,¡± said Nic, not bothering to indulge their needling, even though he would normally have played along just because it would have given him an excuse to stay near Dizzy a little longer. It was thoughts like that that made Nic wonder exactly what kind of relationship he wanted with her. Apparently not one on an equal footing. ¡°I¡¯d like to have a word, if that¡¯s okay. In private.¡± He looked at Dizzy and smiled in what he hoped was a humble and respectful manner. Something flew off Dizzy¡¯s plate and struck a boy three tables away, much to the boy¡¯s surprise. It had moved too fast for Nic to see what it was. Possibly a sausage.


    The sausage-struck boy stood up with a yelp, drawing the attention of his table-mates, and looked for his assailant, ready to go to war. The outrage quickly faded from his round, moony face as he calculated the probable trajectory and worked out who he would have to demand satisfaction from. He sat down again, subdued and uneasy.


    Simole forked a sausage from her own plate and transferred it to Dizzy¡¯s. Nic watched the act of quiet generosity with a feeling of something tightening in his stomach. Their relationship had developed to a level of unspoken intimacy that was beyond casual friendship. They were close. Closer to each other than he was to either of them. He was, he realised, jealous.


    ¡°I¡¯m having my lunch,¡± said Simole. She at last looked up to acknowledge his presence.


    ¡°I know,¡± said Nic. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. It¡¯s not really urgent, but I thought it would be less inconvenient now, so you don¡¯t have to go out of your way. It won¡¯t take long.¡±


    ¡°And this is concerning¡­?¡± Simole waved her fork around, trying to come up with an answer to a question she vaguely recalled.


    ¡°You know, the stuff that happened¡­¡± Being surrounded by students was an acceptable reason to be a little vague, Nic felt. ¡°I could use your help.¡±


    Dizzy stood up. Her chair made a loud scraping sound as it was pushed back, which was unusual. Dizzy could easily get up from the table without making any noise whatsoever. She turned without saying anything and carried her tray away.


    ¡°Are you intentionally trying to provoke her?¡± asked Simole, returning to her eating.


    ¡°No. I don¡¯t think so. I might be doing it subconsciously.¡±


    ¡°Ah, you yearn uncontrollably.¡±


    ¡°My yearning is fully under control,¡± said Nic. ¡°Yearning is very time consuming and I¡¯m very busy at the moment.¡±


    Simole smiled. ¡°How can someone so aware of his own issues be such a prisoner to them?¡±


    Nic sat down opposite her. ¡°Because they¡¯re my issues. Will you help me? Not with my issues, I mean. With my other problem.¡±


    Simole cut up her food and then speared each piece until her fork was holding far more than a mouthful. ¡°Aren¡¯t you worried what you have to say might be overheard?¡± She slid the fork into her mouth and out again empty.


    ¡°Fanny¡¯s been scanning for agents regularly since we got back,¡± said Nic. ¡°They were extremely vigilant at the start of term, but they¡¯ve eased off recently.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s why you elected to stay in the cottage?¡± said Simole. ¡°Easier to keep an eye out for spies and observers?¡±


    Nic nodded. ¡°I suspect they have more pressing matters to deal with and I¡¯m not all that interesting, on a day to day basis.¡±


    ¡°You think the problems with Gweur?¡±


    ¡°I would guess so,¡± said Nic. ¡°Or something we haven¡¯t been told about. I don¡¯t think they can spare too much manpower on watching a boy doing his homework. They¡¯ve backed off, in any case. And it¡¯s not like I have anything of great importance to say.¡±


    ¡°Nothing of importance? I would have thought whatever gave you the fortitude to come over here after distancing yourself from us would be very important indeed.¡±


    Nic¡¯s eyebrows squeezed together. ¡°I didn¡¯t distance myself. You both¡­ I don¡¯t know what I did, but you both made it clear I wasn¡¯t¡­¡±


    ¡°I see,¡± said Simole. ¡°We hurt your feelings.¡±


    ¡°No¡­¡±


    ¡°We are merely two girls whose fathers appeared to be more interested in a strange boy than us, and we were perplexed. Can you understand our consternation with such a discovery? Our whole lives spent being the centre of papa¡¯s world, and then along comes Nic Tutt and they are both instantly besotted.¡±


    Nic¡¯s mouth turned down on one side while he chewed on the inside of the other side¡¯s cheek. ¡°That¡¯s not quite how I would describe it. Both your fathers are, were, are terrifying men. I would gladly return their attentions where they belong if I could. I¡¯m sorry if I deprived you of any familial love.¡±


    ¡°No need to apologise,¡± Simole said gleefully. ¡°Trying to solve the mystery of the Tutt Effect, where grown men become weak at the knees at the prospect of turning you into a surrogate son, has brought us, Dizzy and I, together, joined in our mutual hope to unravel your secret allure. If we can bottle it, fortune awaits.¡±


    ¡°Davo can probably help you with distribution,¡± said Nic. ¡°He¡¯ll take a cut, of course.¡±


    ¡°You really are no fun,¡± said Simole, disappointed she couldn¡¯t get more of a rise out of Nic. ¡°Perhaps I should be more like you. Cold, heartless, immune to psychic attack¡­ Who can tell how you really feel about anything?¡±


    Nic was about to comment that she was already all of those things, but he decided to keep the observation to himself.


    ¡°My father thinks being direct is quicker but makes things needlessly difficult,¡± said Simole. ¡°If they see you coming they will prepare better. Much easier to pretend you¡¯re on their side and attack when they aren¡¯t expecting it. Takes longer to get there, but the execution itself is a lot more efficient.¡±The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    ¡°Is that why he wanted to kill all the mages?¡± asked Nic. He had never gotten around to asking what the reasoning was behind the Archmage¡¯s decision. It had seemed impolite to bring it up in the Archmage¡¯s presence.


    ¡°He claimed it was the only way because She was coming. I tried to get him to explain it now that it seems She was Winnum Roke. He must have known that from the start.¡±


    ¡°What did he say?¡± said Nic.


    ¡°Nothing. He refused to give me an answer. I don¡¯t think he trusts me.¡±


    ¡°Well, you did turn him in to the authorities,¡± pointed out Nic.


    ¡°Yes, there is that. No need to hold a grudge, though is there? It¡¯s not like I attacked him directly.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t really want to attack anyone,¡± said Nic, ¡°directly or indirectly.¡±


    ¡°I know, that¡¯s your problem. No one can understand what you do want, so they can¡¯t prepare themselves and it makes them anxious. You¡¯re a tricky opponent, Nic. Everyone thinks you must be playing a very clever game, but I don¡¯t think you¡¯re taking part in their contest. You¡¯ve got your own competition, haven¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re being a bit vague,¡± said Nic. ¡°I¡¯m not sure I follow. What game are they playing? Ranvar already controls most of this region, and the other big nations have their own problems. They wouldn¡¯t want to start anything. I thought the status quo was what everyone wanted to maintain.¡±


    ¡°They did. And then Winnum Roke decided to make some changes, didn¡¯t she?¡±


    Nic shrugged. ¡°Do you really think she¡¯s been waiting to get her revenge for the last thousand years?¡±


    ¡°It hasn¡¯t been a thousand years for her,¡± said Simole. ¡°I spent enough time with her to work out three things. One, she¡¯s very angry. Two, she¡¯s insane. And three, she¡¯s a lot more powerful after being in the Other Place than she was before, and she was pretty powerful before.¡±


    ¡°Then what¡¯s stopping her?¡± said Nic.


    Simole raised her head slightly and looked up at him with her eyes peering through her lashes. ¡°You really have to ask?¡±


    ¡°Me? I don¡¯t think I could stop her if she really was as powerful as you say she is.¡±


    ¡°Not unless you¡¯re more powerful than you think you are,¡± said Simole.


    Nic sighed. ¡°I¡¯d really like that to be true. Being that kind of person all of a sudden would be quite wonderful. It might even make some people look at me differently.¡± He looked around the cafeteria. No one was looking in their direction.


    ¡°Are you still trying to make a good first impression?¡± asked Simole. ¡°It¡¯s a little late for that, don¡¯t you think?¡±


    ¡°Then what should I be doing?¡±


    ¡°Aha!¡± said Simole. ¡°I¡¯ve often asked myself the same question. I tried asking other people, and they always gave me answers that made me think, I might not know what I want, but I know it isn¡¯t that.¡±


    Nic grinned. ¡°Yeah. That¡¯s all it ever is, a few more directions to cross off the list.¡±


    ¡°So what do you want my help with?¡± asked Simole, bring them back to the start, the point of his trip across the cafeteria.


    Nic leaned forward and lowered his voice. ¡°I want to find out what Winnum Roke wants. There has to be something specific she¡¯s after. I thought it would be best to bury everything and just not bring it up ¡ª it¡¯s bound to be a pain to deal with, better not to know.¡±


    ¡°That doesn¡¯t sound like you,¡± said Simole.


    ¡°No, it doesn¡¯t.¡± Nic looked down at the tabletop, covered in the ancient stains of a million sittings. ¡°I¡¯ve decided it won¡¯t work to just sit and wait. Plus, I like it. Being involved in something big, even when I don¡¯t really know what¡¯s at stake. Maybe if I did I would be more scared. Ordinary life, working in a nice office, buying things to make myself more comfortable, it just feels a bit¡­¡±


    ¡°Drab?¡±


    ¡°I guess. Drab and dreary.¡±


    ¡°But safe and comfortable,¡± said Simole.


    There was another chair scrape. Nic had been so engrossed in his conversation, one that he¡¯d been waiting to have for far too long, that he didn¡¯t notice Dizzy¡¯s return until she was sitting down again. Her tray was full of food; she had gone to get seconds.


    ¡°Enough of this,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°I won¡¯t stand for it anymore.¡±


    Nic looked at Simole but only received a barely perceptible shake of the head.


    ¡°Stand for what?¡± said Nic.


    Dizzy stabbed a sausage in a far more aggressive manner than was necessary. She leaned across the table, making Nic lean back. Her hand shot out and grabbed his lapel to stop his retreat.


    ¡°Simole, I understand,¡± hissed Dizzy. ¡°She was born this way. Fate has put her in the middle of events and with good reason. Her involvement I accept. Yours¡­¡± She paused to relax her mouth which had grown tight with conviction. ¡°What good can you possibly do?¡±


    ¡°You smell nice,¡± said Nic, which wasn¡¯t what he meant to say, but it was all that he could think about. Her scent wasn¡¯t sweet or feminine, she smelled more like she¡¯d been rolling around in the grass and had trampled a few flowers in the process.


    Dizzy¡¯s face reddened and she let go of his lapel.


    ¡°What about me?¡± said Simole with a petulant pursing of her lips.


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± said Nic.


    ¡°You never tell me I smell nice. Does that mean you think I smell unpleasant?¡±


    ¡°No, of course not,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°But not as fragrant as this girl.¡± She pointed at Dizzy with another fully-loaded fork. ¡°Compared to her, my scent is objectionable? Distasteful? Nasty?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said Nic, fighting back his rising panic. It was much easier to deal with either girl alone. Together, they boosted each other¡¯s abilities to get under his skin like those insects that used human flesh to incubate their eggs. ¡°It¡¯s just hard to notice with the, er, the smell of cabbage.¡± He pointed vaguely in the direction of the kitchens.


    ¡°Cabbage wasn¡¯t on the menu today,¡± said Simole. ¡°Perhaps you¡¯re confusing my perfume with the scent of boiled vegetables. Have you always thought of me as smelling of cabbages?¡±


    ¡°I like cabbage soup,¡± was all Nic could think to say.


    ¡°Stop it,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°This isn¡¯t the time for flirting.¡±


    Simole reacted with a horrified smirk, recoiling from the accusation.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think that was flirting,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°That¡¯s because no girl has ever flirted with you before,¡± said Dizzy.


    ¡°Oh,¡± said Nic. ¡°So when a girl flirts with you, you¡¯re supposed to feel afraid and like you want to run away?¡±


    ¡°Depends on the girl,¡± said Simole, ¡°and what she¡¯s after.¡± She added a wink.


    ¡°Like I was saying,¡± said Dizzy firmly, ¡°Simole I understand. You, on the other hand, are completely out of your depth. You don¡¯t deserve to be part of this, let alone leading the way.¡±


    ¡°And you do?¡±


    ¡°More than you.¡±


    It wasn¡¯t as though he disagreed with her point of view, it was that he failed to see the relevance. Since when did being deserving have anything to do with it?


    ¡°What if it hadn¡¯t been me?¡± said Nic. ¡°Not you, either. Someone else.¡± He sat up straight and looked for a likely candidate. No one stuck out. ¡°Anyone here. Would you have been okay with it?¡±


    ¡°That entirely depends on who it was,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°You aren¡¯t well prepared, you¡¯re inept in the use of arms, have no stomach for physical effort and probably still gasp for breath after climbing a single set of stairs.¡±


    She had a point, but not one Nic was going to admit to.


    ¡°But you¡¯re being so short-sighted,¡± said Simole. ¡°For all his many, many faults, you have to admit the boy is intelligent and dogged, and despite what his appearance might suggest, clearly resourceful.¡± She smiled like she was about to add a punch line to a joke, and the thought of it was enough to start her chuckling.


    ¡°Those qualities aren¡¯t of much use when a building falls on your head,¡± said Dizzy.


    ¡°They were actually very useful,¡± said Nic. ¡°I think you¡¯re being¡ª¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t care what you think,¡± snapped Dizzy, cutting him off. ¡°That¡¯s the whole point.¡±


    ¡°How are those yearnings now?¡± asked Simole, the smirk on her lips openly taunting him. ¡°Still feel the pull of all those years.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s got nothing to do with it,¡± said Nic. ¡°I¡¯ve already accepted her decision. She was¡± ¡ª he turned to Dizzy ¡ª ¡°you were right. There are more important things to worry about. My whole life is a big empty hole I need to fill with something. I¡¯m sorry if I ended up where you wanted to be. It was just dumb luck, I know, but it would be stupid not to make the best of it. That¡¯s all I¡¯m trying to do now. Even if I¡¯m doing it poorly, it¡¯s still my decision how to proceed, deserving or not.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°I accept it, too. You¡¯re the winner here, there¡¯s no changing that.¡± She said it like he¡¯d won a lottery prize of great value. That wasn¡¯t how it felt at all. ¡°One qualified contestant, one wild card. But you¡¯re going to let me join. Whatever is going to happen from here on out, I want to be a part of it. I don¡¯t care if you think it¡¯s a good idea or not.¡±


    Her demand was met with silence. Nic wasn¡¯t sure how to explain his reluctance. At least not in a way that wouldn¡¯t cause her to turn violent.


    ¡°They¡¯re going to try to stop you when they find out what you¡¯ve been keeping from them,¡± she continued. ¡°Probably slice you open to see what else you¡¯ve got hidden in there.¡±


    She spoke about him being cut up with such relish it made Nic think she would volunteer for the job. He gulped involuntarily.


    But he wasn¡¯t about to be bullied into agreeing to her demands. ¡°You can¡¯t just order me to do what you want.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°We¡¯re going to come to an understanding. You¡¯re going to give me what I want and in return, I¡¯m going to give you whatever you want.¡±


    For some reason Nic couldn¡¯t pinpoint his heart began to hammer at his ribcage and warmth flooded his face.


    ¡°What are you looking at me like that for?¡± said Dizzy.


    Simole began to laugh. ¡°I think you just reactivated his puberty. The poor boy¡¯s about to overheat.¡±


    Dizzy scowled. ¡°Oh for goodness sake, I didn¡¯t mean it like that.¡±


    ¡°No, no, neither did I. I-I-I mean, I didn¡¯t think you did.¡± The stammering wasn¡¯t helping. ¡°I understand what you¡¯re saying, it¡¯s just that I¡¯m not sure what you think you have that I would want. I don¡¯t need anything.¡±


    ¡°Then what did you want from Simole?¡± said Dizzy, her tone intensifying towards belligerence once more.


    ¡°She can come with me. You can¡¯t. You said it yourself, she was born that way. I lucked into it. I couldn¡¯t take you even if I wanted to.¡±


    ¡°You underestimate what I can contribute. What I can do for you,¡± said Dizzy, ¡°is train you to be able to run for hours at a steady pace without losing your wind. I can give you the strength to climb any structure and the eye to see the most efficient route to scale it. You will be able to handle any weapon proficiently, and one or two expertly. I will push you in the direction of the men you read about and then dream about becoming but never do. You need to become that man.¡±


    ¡°I think you have a poor understanding of what he dreams about,¡± said Simole.


    ¡°It won¡¯t be easy,¡± continued Dizzy, ignoring the interjection. ¡°Each session will leave you weak and shaken, vomiting until your guts are emptied and your tears run dry.¡±


    Nic did not find the image appealing. This was what she wanted to contribute?


    ¡°That¡¯s quite the offer,¡± said Simole, flashing widened eyes at Nic in teasing fashion. ¡°I should grab onto it before she changes her mind. Think of it Nic, your body as finely tuned as your mind. Even a woman of the most unreasonably high standards wouldn¡¯t be able to resist you.¡±


    ¡°Nor would a woman of low standards,¡± said Dizzy, ¡°or no standards at all. You should probably keep your options open.¡±


    The two girls exchanged a look of no obvious meaning that nonetheless made Nic very uncomfortable. He was in the middle of something he couldn¡¯t quite understand, and wasn¡¯t sure he wanted to.


    ¡°I want to be included,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°I know she can go places I can¡¯t, but I can take you places you¡¯ve only ever dreamed of.¡±


    Nic stood up as the heat returned to his face. ¡°I¡¯ll think about it.¡± He turned and walked back to his table.


    The first years had gone, but Davo, Fanny and Brill were waiting for him.


    ¡°Dizzy¡¯s going to teach me to run, climb and fight,¡± he said to their questioning faces.


    ¡°Excellent,¡± said Brill. ¡°I¡¯m sure that¡¯s just what you need. Fresh air, plenty of exercise. I would join you but I¡¯m an intellectual. My mind is my first priority, my body is a temple, and as such remains in the same place indefinitely.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m also an intellectual,¡± said Fanny.


    ¡°Ditto,¡± said Davo.


    Nic couldn¡¯t blame them for not wanting to join in his new training regime. It would be gruelling and very painful if Dizzy had her way, which she always did. But he was smiling at the thought. She would be spending time with him of her own volition, which she hadn¡¯t done so far. It had always been at his behest. He started eating his cold lunch, bolting the food and then drinking the water in record time. He sat back and took a breath and could have sworn he smelled muddy grass and broken petals.

 Book 2: Chapter Four

    Nic¡¯s chest burned as he ran. The cold morning air went in like a knife and then broke into tiny shards of molten metal in his lungs. His arms pumped wildly as he forced himself to keep running. He had never been prone to regrets or dwelling on his misfortune. Anger and self-pity achieved little and only prolonged the period where you weren¡¯t doing something about your problem, but this¡­ this he hated.


    He rounded the cafeteria and began the loop back to the cottage. Having made it to the halfway point made it no less gruelling.


    ¡°I find you inflexible,¡± Dizzy had said. ¡°Let¡¯s see what we can do.¡±


    She had approached his training, or his rehabilitation as she¡¯d called it, with professional detachment. She saw him as a broken toy to be fixed, and the first part was to make a thorough, hands-on inspection. Such a thing should have been a dream come true, literally.


    It was not.


    Dizzy''s touch was cold and impersonal. She twisted and bent, tested his limits and then pushed a bit further, just to see what was there. She acted in a completely serious and dignified way, but he knew her too well to miss the slight undertone of sadistic pleasure in her eyes.


    Perhaps he imagined it. Perhaps this was her dream come true.


    ¡°There¡¯s no point trying to fine tune an instrument until it¡¯s in tune,¡± she had said once she¡¯d tried to pull his head off his neck and confirmed it was attached firmly, ¡°and you are very out of tune. We need to start with regular stretching, in the morning as soon as you wake and in the evening just before you go to bed. That and running. Lots of running, as fast as you can manage. That means pushing yourself, Nic. You¡¯ll only be cheating yourself if you use a shortcut. The point isn¡¯t to achieve the immediate objective using the least amount of effort. Effort is the objective.¡±


    ¡°I understand.¡± It had been difficult to keep his irritation under control when she spoke with such presumption, with such surety of his intentions. His methods when faced with proving himself to a teacher were not the same as those he used when facing himself. Or so he presumed. He had not been forced into this position very often.


    ¡°Normally, I would tell you to take it slow and not risk injuring yourself, but in this case I don¡¯t think we have time to take the slow route. Pain is your friend, it will tell you you¡¯re on the right path.¡±


    The speed with which she had returned to being the bossy girl who always came up with the plan, always made the decisions, was noticeably swift. Back when they had been children the difference in their status had made it an indisputable part of their relationship. Now, though, she was merely a fellow student. He didn¡¯t have to do what she told him.


    He pushed on, even though he was tired and miserable, even though all reason told him to stop before he threw up. He might no longer be compelled to follow her orders, but he was certainly not going to let her shake her head at him with a knowing look that this was what she had expected all along.


    It was early, before most students had even woken. There was a slight mist covering the ground and the grass sprayed his shins with flecks of moisture as he pounded across it. His form was not good. He had never been the athletic type, but he had seen enough sports at school to know what it was meant to look like. Graceful, elegant, an efficiency of movement. He very much doubted that was how he looked to the groundsmen and porters going about their business, if they even noticed his presence.


    He was on the last leg, just one more turn and then the long path that came out by the cottage. It hurt to breathe so much he found himself holding the air in his lungs for as long as possible, like he was running underwater.


    Up ahead, two figures stood at the finishing line. One he expected, the other was not someone he recognised. A young boy, it looked like.


    Running so early served two purposes. One, to discharge his commitment as soon as possible, and two, to avoid being seen doing it.


    He came to a shuddering stop, bent over and gasping for air that seemed reluctant to enter his body unless sucked in with an immense amount of force.


    ¡°That was hilarious,¡± said Simole. ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever seen anyone flounder like that. Well worth getting up for.¡±


    ¡°Time,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°Mm? Oh, six forty-five.¡±


    ¡°I mean¡­¡± He stood up straight and nearly fell over backwards as his head went light and woozy. ¡°I mean, how long did it take me.¡±


    ¡°I have no idea,¡± said Simole.


    Nic took a few more deep breaths before continuing. It didn¡¯t really help. ¡°That¡¯s why I gave you the watch.¡±


    Simole looked at the silver pocket watch in her hand. ¡°Yes, and it says the time is six forty-five. AM.¡±


    ¡°Fourteen minutes,¡± said the small boy standing a little to Simole¡¯s left.


    Nic looked at the boy. He was about eleven or twelve, yet to experience a growth spurt, or very unfortunate if he already had. He was dressed in the school uniform, everything neatly pressed and spotlessly clean. His shirt was shockingly white, his jacket had not even a trace of lint, his shoes were unscuffed.


    ¡°Friend of yours?¡± asked Nic.


    ¡°I thought he was with you.¡±


    ¡°Your form is horrific,¡± said the boy, ignoring them much more forcefully than they were ignoring him. ¡°You¡¯ll only injure yourself running like that. You need to keep your head up and only move your arms in conjunction with the movements of your hips.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re the school expert on track events, are you?¡± Nic¡¯s renowned composure when faced with those far more powerful than himself deserted him in the face of this little lordling who was trying to correct his posture.


    ¡°One doesn¡¯t have to be an expert swimmer to be able to recognise when someone is drowning.¡± The boy turned around, slowly enough to indicate he was in no way intimidated by the company he was in, and walked off.


    Nic turned to Simole with a quizzical look. She shrugged and handed him back the pocket watch.


    ¡°Nice watch,¡± she said. ¡°Bit flashy for a maid¡¯s son, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°It belonged to my father,¡± said Nic. He turned it over in his hands. The casing was smooth from use and felt warm and comfortable. There was an inscription on the back, but a large dent from something striking the watch very hard had made it impossible to read.


    ¡°Well, that was fun,¡± said Simole. ¡°I expect you¡¯ll drop dead before Winnum Roke can make her next move. A brilliant plan.¡±


    ¡°Why did you even come here, Simole?¡±


    ¡°You think I¡¯d miss Nic Tutt in shorts and a singlet? You might be someone quite important one day, and then I¡¯ll be able to dine out on stories about the boy I knew way back when.¡± Her eyes gleamed. ¡°And I also wanted to see if you were really going to follow instructions like a good boy.¡±


    ¡°Why wouldn¡¯t I? I¡¯m not too proud to accept a helping hand.¡±


    ¡°No, you¡¯re not,¡± said Simole. ¡°I¡¯m still trying to decide if that¡¯s a good thing or if it will be your undoing. When are we going to talk to Winnum Roke?¡±


    The question caught him a bit off-guard. ¡°Soon. I just need to get her into the right frame of mind.¡±


    Simole nodded slowly. ¡°It won¡¯t work.¡±


    ¡°What won¡¯t?¡±


    ¡°Using reason to manipulate an insane person.¡±


    ¡°She isn¡¯t insane.¡±


    ¡°She is,¡± said Simole with complete conviction. ¡°You¡¯re just not attuned to seeing it.¡±


    ¡°And you are?¡±


    ¡°One doesn¡¯t have to be an expert swimmer to be able to recognise when someone is drowning.¡± She smiled.


    ¡°You seem to be suggesting the same isn¡¯t true for me.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s different for you,¡± said Simole. ¡°Your opinion is a lot less pertinent when you are also at risk of drowning.¡±


    ¡°You think I¡¯m going to go insane?¡± It was something he had considered, but since there wasn¡¯t much he could do about it, there was no reason to dwell on the possibility.


    ¡°I think it¡¯s a danger. You have Winnum Roke in your head, and before that it was a demon. You weren¡¯t prepared for either, and it¡¯s not like you¡¯re at your best when dealing with unhinged women. You can¡¯t even handle the little girl who¡¯s so besotted with you she can¡¯t stop raging about all the inconveniences you¡¯ve caused her, and then when she finally gets her tiny hands on your body, she doesn¡¯t wash them for days.¡±


    Nic was startled then stunned. And then his rational mind took back control. ¡°I think you¡¯re lying.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Simole sweetly. ¡°But I do it so amusingly, wouldn¡¯t you say?¡±


    Nic left her to her smugness and returned to the cottage to take a shower. Simole was right in many respects. There was no justification for assuming he would be able to keep Winnum Roke under his control, or that he would be able to stave off sinking into madness himself in the process.


    By the time he was dressed and ready, the others were up and groping their way around the kitchen with bleary eyes. Nic sat in his room waiting for them. He could have used the time to read or go over his notes for the coming lesson, but he just sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the wall and wondering what the correct path was for a boy of no training and little experience. Jump in the deep end and hope nobody could tell if he was drowning?


    At breakfast he consumed an apple, a bowl of porridge with cream, several rashers of bacon, two slices of toast with plum preserve and two glasses of milk.


    The others watched in astonishment, apart from Fanny who watched while eating.


    ¡°How she schemes!¡± said Davo. ¡°First she fattens you up, then she¡¯ll carve herself a useful object from the raw block, and casually toss the excess that doesn¡¯t serve her purpose. You will make a fine gentleman on a leash, my friend.¡±This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    Nic burped in a rather ungentlemanly manner.


    ¡°Look at her over there, now.¡± Davo lowered his head but leaned forward, his sharp nose pointing in the direction of Dizzy and Simole¡¯s table. ¡°Look closely and you can see plan after plan brewing in her cauldron of a mind, discarding each in turn if they seem ineffective, or too crude, or not in accord with her ultimate goal. She will reject any proposal that might leave her vulnerable to whatever reproaches or demands others might consider reasonable. So long as she is careful, firm, resolute, her skullduggery will prove effective. Doesn¡¯t it worry you that she plans to benefit most from your schooling?¡±


    ¡°It worries me,¡± said Fanny, ¡°that she might overhear you and think we think the same as you.¡±


    ¡°But you do,¡± said Davo.


    ¡°Not out loud, I don¡¯t,¡± said Fanny.


    ¡°Ah, well,¡± said Davo, ¡°it was just a passing thought. She probably just wants to see what Nic looks like with muscles. Women can be very superficial like that.¡±


    ¡°They aren¡¯t the only ones to think superficially,¡± said a small voice from the far end of the table. A small boy put down his tray and sat. It was the same boy Nic had met earlier.


    ¡°You realise this is the Upper Class cafeteria?¡± said Davo.


    ¡°I do,¡± said the boy. ¡°That¡¯s why I¡¯m here.¡±


    ¡°And you couldn¡¯t choose another table?¡± persisted Davo.


    ¡°Obviously I could,¡± said the boy, ¡°but it would be something of an irony if after the way you had been excluded and forced to exist apart from the regular students if you were to then turn around and treat others with equal contempt.¡± Having stunned Davo into silence, the boy turned his attention to Nic. ¡°Hello, again, Nicolav.¡±


    ¡°Hello,¡± said Nic. ¡°You¡¯re a first year Upperclassman?¡±


    ¡°Rumours of your superior intellect have clearly not been exaggerated.¡±


    ¡°You know him?¡± asked Davo.


    ¡°No, not really. He watched me running this morning.¡±


    ¡°Oh, he¡¯s stalking you,¡± said Fanny. ¡°I wonder who put him up to it.¡±


    ¡°Nobody put me up to anything,¡± said the boy. ¡°I spend my free time examining my surroundings. Curiosity is healthy. Scepticism is essential. There are great powers in the world that guide our daily lives, existences that are good and those that are evil. I plan to help one prevent the other.¡±


    ¡°Which one do you plan to help?¡± asked Fanny.


    ¡°Ha!¡± said Davo. ¡°Good one.¡±


    ¡°Yes, well done,¡± said the boy. ¡°You very nearly displayed a modicum of wit.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± said Fanny. ¡°You very nearly displayed a modicum of good manners. Who are you?¡±


    There was a long, weary sigh from the other end of the table. ¡°I¡¯m sorry to say that he is my younger brother, Hewt,¡± said Brill.


    ¡°Hewton Epsteem,¡± said the boy with a mechanical smile that immediately disappeared. ¡°A pleasure.¡±


    ¡°And why is he here again?¡± asked Davo.


    Brill took a deep breath. ¡°He¡¯s something of a prodigy. His talent is precocious enough to gain him entry into the Upper Class at only twelve years old. We¡¯re all very, very proud.¡± His tone suggested the opposite.


    ¡°I see,¡± said Davo. ¡°And what is his talent? He¡¯s twelve, but he is able to irritate people like a five year old?¡±


    ¡°Something like that,¡± said Brill. ¡°I apologise.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s no need to apologise on my behalf,¡± said Hewt.


    ¡°Not yet,¡± said Brill. ¡°I¡¯m paying in advance. My brother is a very bright boy, but also terribly spoiled. He is the apple of my mother¡¯s eye.¡±


    ¡°Feel free to send your mother to Conoling & Son at the first opportunity,¡± said Davo. ¡°We have an excellent range of spectacles.¡±


    ¡°I wish it was that easy to correct her eyesight,¡± said Brill. ¡°My brother was born twins, but sadly our sister didn¡¯t survive childbirth. It drove my mother to dote on young Hewt to an unwarranted level. Coupled with his precocious intellect, it turned him into something of a monster.¡±


    ¡°While I wouldn¡¯t dispute the facts with my brother,¡± said Hewt, ¡°my sister didn¡¯t just die, she transformed into an angel and now watches over me, ensuring my good fortune and warning me of feckless companions. She is hovering over my head right now.¡±


    Davo and Fanny both instinctively looked at the air over Hewt¡¯s head.


    ¡°She also points out gullible fools wherever they may be,¡± said Hewt with a smirk.


    ¡°He¡¯s unbearable,¡± said Davo.


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Brill. ¡°It¡¯s best to ignore him and hope he gets bored. Sometimes he just wanders off.¡±


    ¡°Oh, no,¡± said Hewt. ¡°Not this time, big brother. Your new friends are fascinating. This one in particular.¡± He was looking at Nic.


    ¡°Me?¡± said Nic. ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°My father rants about you all the time. There must be a good reason for it, but one that eludes me. I very much enjoy solving a mystery.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s no need to continue your investigation,¡± said Brill. ¡°You know full well why Father has an issue with an Also-Ran upsetting the status quo.¡±


    ¡°I think not,¡± said Hewt. ¡°There is more here than meets the eye. There must be. And the first year classes have been very disappointing so far. I have a lot of free time.¡±


    ¡°Can I ask you something?¡± said Nic.


    ¡°Certainly,¡± said Hewt.


    ¡°If you discover this purpose for your talents, what if those people have no need for your assistance.¡±


    ¡°I care not one jot for their wishes,¡± said Hewt without hesitation. ¡°I serve the cause, not the other servants. I have no illusion I will be pushed aside and forced to perform inconsequential tasks in case I steal some glory from those already in pursuit of their fame and fortune. It has always been thus, the powerful working in the service of a noble aim end up becoming the obstacle to their own ambition. It is the arrogance of success, to achieve so much good that one considers it best for all concerned if the world simply operated in accordance with one¡¯s own desires. It¡¯s laughable, of course, but inevitable. Despite the best of intentions, eventually, one clings to the reins of power having forgotten what kind of beast one is riding or which direction to steer it in. I hope when I reach that addled stage, my achievements having produced some progress, that some young buck comes along and kicks me off my horse. It is what I plan to do to my elders and better.¡±


    The speech, which had been delivered with hardly a pause for breath, and between mouthfuls of food that left the rhythm uninterrupted, left them all unable to respond.


    It did help Nic come to a decision, though. He rose and walked across the cafeteria.


    ¡°You need to keep training before I can help you further,¡± said Dizzy as he stood watching her and Simole eat.


    ¡°I know. I¡¯m following your instructions.¡±


    ¡°He is,¡± said Simole. ¡°Very energetically.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll see,¡± said Dizzy, rising with her tray. ¡°But it isn¡¯t me you came to see, is it?¡± She walked off without waiting for an answer.


    ¡°Simole, what we spoke about. I think I¡¯m ready.¡±


    Simole cocked an eyebrow. ¡°That was quick. You weren¡¯t so sure earlier.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a matter of identifying what she wants, and if it¡¯s something to help her with, or prevent from happening. The sooner I know which it is, the better.¡±


    ¡°Alright,¡± said Simole. ¡°Just tell me when.¡±


    ***


    Nic lay in his bed thinking about young Hewton Epsteem. Apart from being very bothersome and an excellent exponent of the needle, the boy had a very strong idea of how to utilise his skills. He hadn¡¯t found an answer to the pressing question of what to do with one¡¯s life, but he was actively searching for the path to take. He had recognised that there were forces at work in the world that were both entrenched and ingrained, and that he wanted to identify them and use his abilities to support the side he believed was the more worthy.


    It was a clear and definite plan of action. He lacked certain elements, but he had the overall schematic outlined and was working towards filling in the blanks.


    This was how Nic wished his life was. It had been for a while. When he was in pursuit of Dizzy, he had rarely needed to stop and think about his next move. Every obstacle was easily solved because he always knew his preferred outcome. It was a release from doubt to have a purpose.


    ¡°You seem distracted,¡± said the voice in his head.


    ¡°Yes. I¡¯m trying to understand my place in the world,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°That¡¯s not very difficult. It is whatever you want it to be.¡±


    ¡°What if you don¡¯t know what you want it to be?¡±


    ¡°Then it doesn¡¯t really matter, does it?¡±


    Most of his interactions with Winnum Roke were not this conversational. Most of them were adversarial, a constant duel between two minds wrestling with images and words; often the same thing.


    ¡°I think I might like to travel,¡± said Nic. ¡°To see the places I¡¯ve read about.¡±


    ¡°A noble ambition,¡± said Winnum Roke. ¡°Broaden your horizons. So why don¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Now? I don¡¯t really have the means.¡±


    ¡°What rot. Of course you do. Two legs and an alert mind, that¡¯s all you need. You even have a companion to guide you. In spirit if not geographically.¡±


    ¡°Did you travel much, before you were Archmage?¡±


    ¡°I did, but that was a thousand years ago and the world was a very different place. There seems to be a different smell in the air now, and a different shape to the buildings, except here at Ransom. This place is the same.¡± Her voice took on a tone of bitterness when she mentioned the school. ¡°I can¡¯t offer you the powers of a demon, Nic, but I still have a mind that is sharp and bright. You wouldn¡¯t have much difficulty navigating your way through lands of wonder with my help.¡±


    ¡°Why can¡¯t you offer me the powers of a demon?¡± asked Nic. ¡°You¡¯re a being of magic, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t work like that, I¡¯m afraid.¡±


    ¡°But you were born a mage. You contain the essence of a demon inside you.¡±


    ¡°No, I released my demon when I travelled to the Other Place. There was no need and I did not wish another to share my punishment. I am now just an ordinary woman, who happens to be living in your head.¡±


    ¡°And you¡¯d give up your chance for revenge to go travelling with me?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know if I¡¯d say that. I¡¯d be willing to postpone it a while. What difference would a few more years make?¡±


    ¡°Where would we go?¡± asked Nic.


    The dark surroundings shifted in colour and then settled into an image. ¡°Through Gweur to the east, I should think. This is how it appeared when I was young. I¡¯m sure much has changed.


    It was a lush landscape that was completely at odds with what Nic had seen of Gweur, although he had seen only a small part. Insects buzzed and hummed in a frenzy of activity around great masses of white flowers, whose strange and heavy perfume intoxicated the air.


    Rodents with fat cheeks rustled in the undergrowth, iridescent beetles scuttled between Nic¡¯s feet in a rush to get somewhere, birds called in a sharp falsetto and were answered by clicks and grunts.


    Tall pines surrounded them in curtains of dark green, occasionally revealing the golden greens of oaks in the distance, and glimpses of snow-capped mountains even further off. Were there mountains in Gweur? Not that Nic recalled, or perhaps not anymore.


    And in front of him stood Winnum Roke herself, a slim woman in simple attire, her hair cut short and held back by a blue band.


    ¡°Why Gweur?¡± asked Nic.


    ¡°Just a path away from Ranvar. You have to leave somehow.¡±


    ¡°Not because that was where the demon left her power? The demon who was once part of you?¡±


    ¡°You doubt my sincerity,¡± said Winnum Roke.


    ¡°Just curious,¡± said Nic. ¡°I have no doubt you will try to deceive me at some point. Everyone does, if they think it is for a higher cause. I asked someone to join us today, I hope you don¡¯t mind.¡±


    ¡°This is nice,¡± said Simole. ¡°Where are we? The jungles of Malma?¡±


    ¡°This is Gweur, a thousand years,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°Lovely.¡± She stamped on a beetle.


    ¡°Ah, Simole,¡± said Winnum with something approaching joy in her voice. ¡°It''s such a pleasure to see you again. How I missed you. The prettiest girl with the sharpest tongue. And so rich in Arcanum, it makes me woozy just to be near you. Come my child, come closer so I can give you a kiss.¡±


    Winnum Roke lunged forward, like a cat pouncing. She broke through Simole like she had been a pillar of smoke, sending her wafting in all directions, still holding onto fragments of the original image. An eye here, a hand there.


    Winnum Roke screamed in frustration. ¡°It isn¡¯t her!¡±


    ¡°No, I decided to wait a little before bringing her here.¡±


    Winnum Roke sagged, her head bent forward. ¡°You never trusted my intentions.¡±


    ¡°I was¡­ sceptical.¡±


    ¡°And now what? We continue to have our little chats while you keep me prisoner?¡±


    ¡°It was your choice to come here.¡±


    ¡°Choice?¡± said Winnum Roke. ¡°Do you think I had any other option?¡±


    ¡°That isn¡¯t my fault. You are responsible for your own successes and failures. They beat you and now they¡¯re all dead. Who are you going to take your revenge on?¡±


    ¡°Dead?¡± said Winnum, with a laugh that sounded like it was on the edge of madness. ¡°They aren¡¯t dead. You think it¡¯s the Royal College I blame? I don¡¯t care for the fate of a few mages and their poor decisions. More will replace them and make even poorer choices. The demons, you foolish boy, they will be our undoing. Not today, maybe not for another thousand years, but they will rule over us in the end. So you see, it really doesn¡¯t matter if we go for a sojourn around the world first, they will be waiting for us when we return.¡±


    ¡°And you think you can defeat them?¡± asked Nic.


    ¡°Defeat them? Not directly. What I can do is trick them back onto their ship and send them on their merry way thinking they have won and with everything they ever dreamed of.¡± She sat down on the grass and let lizards jump onto her hands.


    It sounded like a very Ranvarian way to deal with an enemy. Convince them they¡¯re the winners when they wave the white flag of surrender.


    Nic sat down next to her. ¡°Tell me how.¡±

 No chapter today

    Sorry, wasn''t happy with today''s chapter so I''ve decided to put it back a week and try to get it right. I did get it finished, and the main thrust of it was fine, but the execution was just a bit lacklustre, and I''d rather take more time and make it read more in keeping with the style of the book than force it out half-arsed because of a deadline. Sorry about that.Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.


    Thanks for understanding, post your complaints and grievances in Discord.


    cheers,


    mood


    Extra characters to make the required number : wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

 Book 2: Chapter Five

    ¡°Last night I had a dream,¡± announced Mrs Unlevy as she walked into the classroom. ¡°The subject for today¡¯s lesson is gone. Close your books, put it out of your minds.¡± There were groans around the class as textbooks were closed. ¡°Poof, it is no more. Instead, we will delve into a subject many consider taboo. The forbidden history of Ranvar.¡±


    She put her bag on the desk at the front of the class and faced the mildly unsettled students.


    Mrs Unlevy was one of three teachers Nic had for Military Strategy. He had three two-hour classes spread out through the week, and each class was with a different teacher, each taught in a very different manner even though the subject was primarily the same.


    It was the same with Economic Analysis, three teachers, each once a week. Only the Arts Course was run by a single entity, although he was no less varied in his approach.


    ¡°I refer, of course, to the Civil War.¡± She said it with a mixture of mischief and audaciousness, her voice lowering in volume to express how daring she was being.


    The Civil War was a topic known to every Ranvarian ¡ª a key moment in the formation of the kingdom ¡ª but it was rarely discussed. Not in school, not in the home. Certainly not in public.


    Most history books referred to it only in passing, as though the subject would be explored in greater detail at some other time, in some other volume. It never was. Nic had researched the topic quite extensively, and had never found anything more than short passages with no more than dates and the parties involved. That and the only salient fact, which was that the rebels were destroyed by their own hands, a slaughter of all their leaders in a single night.


    Chaos turns on itself, was the common conclusion.


    ¡°Of course, there are many definitive texts on the matter. We will ignore them all! Today, we speculate and conjecture. Nothing we speak of here will be considered to be fact, only supposition. But what a fertile playground of the imagination we have to run around in!¡±


    Mrs Unlevy was a stout woman with dark, curly hair and gleaming eyes, when they were open.


    She had a somewhat romantic view of the battlefield, where heroes committed acts of bravery to a background of colour and noise, the troops clashing as though part of a dance routine where all had a predestined role to play. She had a tendency to close her eyes as she spoke, tilting her head back so far she appeared in danger of toppling over backwards.


    ¡°That final battle, so climactic, so traumatic, none could escape its brutality, not even the survivors! It was the coldest of mornings, so cold that the horses had icicles hanging from their bridles. The temperature we know from meteorological records from the period, the rest is reasonable to extrapolate. Everyone, eyes shut, picture it in your mind. Can you smell the sod churned over by hooves? The tang of blood in the air from the previous night¡¯s skirmishes. Immerse yourselves.¡± She breathed in deeply, as you would if inhaling the scent from a bouquet of flowers.


    Nic placed his arms on the desk and let his chin rest on the top of his hand. His eyes were not closed, but they were unfocused enough so that he was no longer aware of his immediate surroundings.


    He had an interest in the period being discussed, but it was rather suspicious that it would be brought up today considering the discussion he¡¯d had the previous night with Winnum Roke.


    ¡°Did you get her to do this?¡± he said into the far reaches of his mind.


    Winnum Roke¡¯s presence was very different compared to when he had a demon ensconced in his brain. That experience had been a constant pressure on his head, like he¡¯d been wearing a hat all day and still felt it after he¡¯d taken it off.


    With Winnum Roke, it was far less noticeable. She wasn¡¯t a demon, so some differences were to be expected, but she wasn¡¯t exactly human, either, so those differences weren¡¯t necessarily to be welcomed.


    For sure, it was easier to make contact with her at night, when there were fewer distractions and his mind was stilled. Communicating with her was rather like a dream, but not the kind you got lost in and were unable to notice the difference between the mundane and the bizarre. This was like the half-dream the mind slipped into when you woke too early and then drifted back into a half-sleep.


    Nic let his mind roll away from the class, his eyes open but unseeing, and tried to catch the tail of a fish the refraction of the water made it impossible to target accurately.


    ¡°It seems odd that you would bring up the war last night as a way to convince me of your intentions, and then it miraculously becomes today¡¯s unplanned topic for discussion,¡± he mumbled to himself.


    He tried to sense an answer, stretching out his perceptions. It was much harder to do in the light of day.


    ¡°I have no control over the school curriculum.¡±


    The voice was much closer than he had anticipated and startled him. And then he wasn¡¯t sure if he¡¯d heard it or just imagined it. Nic raised his head and looked around the class as though the other students might have heard it, too, but they all had their eye shut tight. Apart from Dizzy who looked back at him with a penetrating stare.


    ¡°This was the culmination of three years of constant battle,¡± continued Mrs Unlevy, her arms swaying back and forth like she was conducting an orchestra. ¡°King Ransom, our illustrious school founder, leading ten thousand men marching under the Ranvarian standard. Not the one you see today, this one was maroon with golden trident. Picture it, picture it,¡± she commanded.


    Nic had seen a picture of the flag Ranvar had fought under before the three black dragons on a field of green that flew over the kingdom now. He would not have described it as a trident. Pitchfork would seem more accurate.


    ¡°And on the opposing side, his brother, Neurith, surrounded by a rabble of over thirty thousand, the combined forces of the Seven Kingdoms. Men in mismatched armour and a confusion of different liveries. Sound and colour so extreme it would offend your senses to just be near them, and the stench¡­¡± She scrunched up her face. ¡°These were not professional soldiers. Tradesmen and merchants pressed into service. Fishermen and farmers more accustomed to haggling across tables in the marketplace than fighting for their lives. But they managed to hold back a professional and well-disciplined army for three years.¡± Mrs Unlevy¡¯s eyes opened. ¡°Can anyone suggest how they managed it?¡±


    There was a moment of hesitation, and then hands went up around the class.


    ¡°Magic,¡± said the boy who was called on to answer.


    This was the common belief about the war. That it provided the introduction to Arcanum that set Ranvar on the path to ascendancy. And that it had begun as a tool of the king¡¯s enemy, his own brother.


    ¡°Indeed,¡± said Mrs Unlevy, ¡°a very important factor, no doubt. But let us not be distracted by the fantastic and arcane. Think in terms of the struggle to gain advantage on the battlefield. From close up, yes, war is hell. It is ugly and brutal and disgusting. But when seen from afar, with the distance of time, it becomes a thing of great beauty. It is more than the clash of steel and spilling of guts. It is music, it is melody and counterpoint. It is dance.¡±


    She raised her arms as though placing them around a partner, and swayed from side to side, her eyes closed.


    ¡°With the benefit of detachment, what appeared to be blunt force smashing through the front lines, now emerges as an elegant thrust of a delicate blade, slicing through a chink in the armour, gliding between ribs, perfectly piercing a vital organ before its owner becomes aware of their unavoidable death. Dance. Your enemy is also your partner. Perhaps you take the lead, perhaps you follow, both are permissible, both can lead to victory, if you execute the steps correctly and to the correct rhythm. A great dancer does not think of the next move, a great dancer flows from one moment to the next, taking the dance where the music and the dance floor allow.¡±


    ¡°The woman¡¯s an idiot,¡± said Winnum Roke, whispering in Nic¡¯s ear, although this voice seemed to be whispering from the inside. ¡°Wars are rarely won in a single battle. Months and years take their toll. Plans and betrayal come undone. Some people are traitors by nature; they take pleasure in treachery. Some people are loyal to a fault, and refuse to see the truth and die fighting for a lie.¡±


    ¡°Mr Tutt? You have something you wish to contribute?¡±


    Nic realised he had been repeating what he was hearing in an effort to clarify the words which were slipping away from him without being fully-formed. He had only been mouthing them silently, but it had probably made him appear like he was trying to say something.


    ¡°No, ma¡¯am.¡±


    ¡°Very well. Then let us consider the actors in this play. Prince Neurith, a small man with pockmarks and a hooked nose, rumoured to have been illegitimately sired.¡±


    ¡°Ridiculous! How could a twin be illegitimate?¡±


    Nic made sure to keep his mouth tightly shut, but Winnum Roke¡¯s outrage made him grin. If true, then it would indeed be a very peculiar lie to have spread.


    Mrs Unlevy was looking at him again. Nic moved his mouth around and stretched his jaw like he might have toothache.


    Winnum Roke¡¯s voice continued: ¡°In truth, the only reason for the war was that Neurith was keen for distraction, and had been convinced he was the elder twin, and the throne was rightfully his. The evidence for this proposition was non-existent and was based purely on scurrilous gossip, which was more than enough for Neurith to climb into a suit of armour that was far too big for him and strap a sword on he could barely lift. He was an insufferable little shit.¡±


    The voice in Nic¡¯s head was still a distant whisper, but he could understand it clearly now. Mrs Unlevy was continuing to wax lyrical about the grandeur of the king¡¯s forces as they prepared for the final battle. She seemed quite taken by her imaginary recollection of the event.


    ¡°None of this happened,¡± said Winnum Roke. ¡°There was no battle between tens of thousands. The king, at first, chose to interpret his brother¡¯s complaints and grousing as sibling resentment. The thorny jibes of a bored and irritable child. His brother had always been pampered as redundant heirs often are.


    ¡°King Ransom tried to involve his brother more in the business of ruling a kingdom, but Neurith became ever more unresponsive. He did not wish to be included. He wished to be his brother¡¯s replacement. In due course, the king came to feel the lack of support from his twin, to a concerning degree.


    ¡°When Neurith raised an army of wild hillmen and marched on Ransom¡¯s castle, the king merely sent him an abusive message, demanding he turn his army around and go home. Neurith, who knew his brother¡¯s temperament, ignored the message and burnt down the king¡¯s favourite holiday retreat, exasperating the king to a state of incandescence.


    ¡°The ¡®final battle¡¯ was no more than a nighttime raid on the King¡¯s second favourite holiday home, which was little more than a cabin in the woods. But King Ransom had secretly reinforced his household guard with a hundred knights and a handful of heavy cavalry. It was more than enough. The undisciplined clansmen were routed; Neurith escaped with his life but was bitterly embarrassed to be surprised while attempting a surprise attack.¡±


    Nic had lost track of what Mrs Unlevy was saying. His attention was on Winnum Roke¡¯s revised history, which was unlike anything he had read in any book.


    ¡°This was all there was to the war between the brothers. The rebel leaders who died were killed many years later with no warning. Their deaths served a different purpose.¡±Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    ¡°Aren¡¯t you too young to know any of this?¡± said Nic.


    ¡°Time is a many-sided pyramid,¡± said Winnum Roke. ¡°We stand at the apex and overlook days, months and years in all directions, if we have the appropriate number of eyes. This is the first principle of the Methenoic Demise, as revealed by Jeboah Chud, the one who brought us the Book of Truth from the Other Place. Perhaps you should mention it to your teacher, she looks like she would be interested.¡±


    ¡°Mr Tutt?¡±


    Nic¡¯s attention was rudely dragged back to the present. Mrs Unlevy and the rest of the class now had their eyes trained on him.


    ¡°Yes?¡± said Nic. He smiled and opened his own eyes wide to indicate he was eager to be of help. It was a look he had practised in the mirror when he was eight after teachers would get upset by his normal face, which seemed to indicate he was unimpressed by their teaching ability. He assumed that was what it indicated since that was usually what he thought.


    ¡°Can you share your thoughts on the question of Neurith¡¯s secret strategy? And if you could not mutter the answer I and the class would be most grateful.¡±


    ¡°Um, well,¡± said Nic, ¡°according to the most respected source, Goynton¡¯s Instigation of Conflict in the First Civil War, Prince Neurith sacked the towns and villages along the disputed border and killed everyone who wouldn¡¯t join him, so that his ranks swelled, while reducing the number of people King Ransom could draw from. His conscripts were reluctant but too scared to refuse. During battle they were driven to a frenzy by magic which made them fight, but they were as likely to attack their own as their enemy. According to Goynton.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t sound like you agree with Ferdinal Goynton, Mr Tutt.¡±


    ¡°I have no reason to doubt him or subscribe to his views,¡± said Nic. He remembered to smile and open his eyes a little late, and a dark look crossed Mrs Unlevy¡¯s normally exuberant features.


    ¡°He was there, you know?¡± said Mrs Unlevy. ¡°Do you perhaps have a better idea of what happened over a thousand years ago?¡±


    There was a mild rebuke in her voice, but also a challenge. Nic would normally be too wary of the first to respond to the second, but Mrs Unlevy wasn¡¯t the sort of teacher to be vindictive, and the topic of the first civil war did genuinely fascinate him. It had occurred when Arcanum had first appeared, although there was no mention of demons until much later.


    ¡°No, I don¡¯t know anything,¡± said Nic. ¡°I¡¯m just curious where both sides obtained magic from. There doesn¡¯t seem to be any record of either brother being trained or taught how to use Arcanum. There¡¯s the legend of the Book of Truth, but I¡¯m not sure how apocryphal that is. It could be there was a third party involved but it seems strange there¡¯s no mention made of them. I can¡¯t believe Goynton wouldn¡¯t have wondered the same and at least addressed the question, even if he couldn¡¯t find the answer. He doesn¡¯t mention it in any of his texts on the period, and he wrote seventeen volumes that I know of. Which suggests he either had a very good reason to keep silent on the subject ¡ª I¡¯m afraid I haven¡¯t been able to think of one ¡ª or the information was removed for any number of reasons. So, to answer your question, it isn¡¯t that I doubt anything Ferdinal Goynton has to say, I just don¡¯t think the information is complete.¡± Nic smiled and tried to shape his features into a hopeful look. Teachers liked it when you looked to them for approval. It helped reinforce the hierarchy.


    ¡°Well,¡± said Mrs Unlevy, ¡°that¡¯s an interesting point you bring up, with plenty of very specific references. Well done,¡± she said without enthusiasm. He could tell he was beginning to test her patience. ¡°Perhaps someone else has thoughts on the matter?¡± She looked around the class. No one seemed very keen to join in the discussion.


    ¡°If Goynton were allowed to divulge the origin of Arcanum,¡± said Dizzy, ¡°that would reveal more information than would be safe. Is there a particular reason you would like to unearth such sensitive information? I¡¯m sure it would be very valuable.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said Nic. ¡°My interest is purely academic. I have no plans to commit treason.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°I¡¯m glad to hear it.¡±


    ¡°Yes, thank you for clarifying that Miss Delcroix.¡± Mrs Unlevy gave Dizzy a quizzical look. ¡°Since Ferdinal Goyton was the only one of us alive at the time, let¡¯s take his word on the matter for the time being.¡±


    ¡°I was there,¡± said Winnum Roke. ¡°I remember it very clearly. Two struggling magicians involved in petty conflict over a pile of mud. Ransom proved the strongest and defeated Neurith, in a risible battle under the Demon¡¯s Heart. What to do with a defeated magician, who seethed with evil and hate? Ransom rolled him up in layers of cut turf and buried him in the mountain, replacing one demon¡¯s heart with another. He dug a deep hole and dropped his brother into it, and all the nobles were glad and spoke well of Ransom for dealing with the matter so efficiently.


    ¡°King Ransom I, he became, a pallid round-headed little man, ineffectual, shrill and waspish, but he ruled without contest for two hundred years. He reigned from his castle Side Rift, in the northern mountains, as far from Demon¡¯s Heart as he could get, keeping counsel with the demons who had granted him the power to defeat his brother, who had also granted his brother the power to defeat him. It did not matter to them which emerged victorious, only that they had the winner¡¯s ear, and so they did.¡±


    ¡°Mr Tutt!¡±


    Nic jumped up from his chair. He had been aware that the words had been coming out of his mouth, if only very quietly. He hadn¡¯t thought anyone would hear. He had been too enraptured by the history lesson to be on his guard.


    ¡°Sorry. I was remembering a story I read somewhere.¡±


    ¡°Be that as it may, this is Military Strategy, not fairy tales for the campfire. That was quite the fanciful flight of the imagination.¡±


    ¡°Yes. Sorry.¡± Nic sat down. He could feel the eyes on him, but he kept his head down and waited for their curiosity to pass.


    ¡°There are many versions of the same story, Nic,¡± said Winnum Roke. ¡°How can you know which is true, if any? There is only one way. You have to see it for yourself, or accept that you know nothing.¡±


    ***


    ¡°I hear you¡¯ve become something of an oracle,¡± said Simole at lunch. ¡°A portal to Ranvar¡¯s past.¡±


    She had deigned to come sit with them at their old table. The gathered Also-Rans, old and new, weren¡¯t quite sure what to make of the honour.


    ¡°I got a bit distracted, that was all,¡± said Nic.


    He wasn¡¯t too concerned about his momentary lapse. It wasn¡¯t like Winnum Roke had tried to take control of him. She had tried that before, and always failed. The attempts had been good practice for him, and Nic felt confident he could retain mastery of himself as long as she was trapped in his mind.


    The only reason he had lost sense of his surroundings for a moment was because he¡¯d been genuinely captivated by what Winnum recalled of the past. As a teacher, Winnum Roke was a far more interesting prospect than anything the school had to offer him. As an insane wizard bent on revenge, she was a somewhat less attractive alternative.


    ¡°Distracted? Really?¡± Simole nodded like she understood. ¡°I waited for you last night, but you never showed. Distracted?¡±


    ¡°Sorry,¡± said Nic. ¡°Something came up.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, boys,¡± said Simole, addressing the rest of the table who were all ears. ¡°It isn¡¯t what you¡¯re thinking. It¡¯s far more depraved. He may seem like a nice quiet boy, but when he¡¯s alone with a woman...¡± Her eyes flashed wide.


    ¡°Simole,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°Yes, Nic?¡± said Simole.


    ¡°Could you take your hand off my knee?¡±


    Simole looked at him for a full five seconds before taking her hand out from under the table. ¡°That¡¯s what I like about you, Nic. You aren¡¯t afraid to meet me halfway.¡±


    ¡°Why did she have her hand on his knee?¡± said Fanny, confused.


    ¡°She didn¡¯t,¡± said Davo.


    ¡°But he just said¡­¡±


    Davo shook his head. ¡°The game is bluff and blush. The loser is all of us at this table.¡±


    ¡°I had second thoughts,¡± said Nic. ¡°It turns out you¡¯re probably the person I shouldn¡¯t be left alone with.¡±


    ¡°I could have told you that,¡± said Davo.


    Fanny snorted through a mouthful of food.


    ¡°Me?¡± said Simole. ¡°But I¡¯m very well regarded in certain circles. I¡¯m clean and punctual, and highly educated.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve been meaning to ask you,¡± said Fanny, still chewing. ¡°What are your other subjects? I asked around and no one seems to be in the same class as you.¡±


    ¡°Special lessons,¡± said Simole. ¡°Arranged by my father.¡±


    ¡°Is it music and deportment?¡± asked Davo. ¡°To make you a better prospect for marriage?¡±


    Fanny choked on his food.


    Simole smiled, or at least her mouth widened to show more teeth. It could have been a prelude to biting into something, or someone.


    ¡°Personally,¡± Davo continued blithely, ¡°I feel you need no such assistance. You have synthesized for yourself a style, a sparkling sense of mischief that any man would find entrancing.¡±


    Simole¡¯s features softened for the moment. ¡°Thank you. I don¡¯t believe a word you said, but it still sounded very nice.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re welcome,¡± said Davo, and gave the rest of the table a passing glance. They had been braced for something far more violent.


    After eating, everyone left the table together and headed towards the library. It was a half-day where second years were allowed to do as they pleased, usually some sort of sporting activity.


    The library was not the same place it had once been. There was a new librarian and Nic had no idea where the previous one had gone. Probably to the Royal College, but no one seemed to know for sure, not even the new librarian who was a tall, thin man with a very austere demeanour, so an ideal replacement.


    Nic wandered around the bookshelves with Simole following him, quietly waiting for a fuller explanation. He used the opportunity to collect books and have her carry them for him.


    When they reached a part of the library with no one around, he told her about Winnum Roke¡¯s attempt to attack the simulacrum he¡¯d made of her.


    ¡°She couldn¡¯t tell it was me?¡± said Simole, sounding doubtful.


    ¡°It was a very good likeness,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°From memory?¡±


    ¡°Yes, I have excellent recall,¡± said Nic. ¡°It looked just like you.¡±


    ¡°Creating a person is one of the hardest things to learn,¡± said Simole. ¡°There are a lot of details you need to get right all at the same time. I was never good at it, lacked the patience. My father would tell me to fix an image in my mind, then change its colours, while holding the shape the same. A tree had to have the exact same number of leaves no matter how many times you counted them. My father would make me create whole forests in my mind. I hated it. Is your memory really that good?¡±


    Nic shrugged. It was a part of his brain he exercised regularly, but he wasn¡¯t sure he could sustain an entire landscape. He didn¡¯t see why he would need to.


    ¡°Close your eyes,¡± said Simole. Nic obliged. ¡°What colour are the buttons on my shirt cuff?¡±


    ¡°Blue,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°There¡¯s a tag on the back of my boot. Describe it.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a small red triangle, like a pendant.¡± He opened his eyes. ¡°I don¡¯t know if I could create a version of you in the real world, but it¡¯s different in my mind. Winnum couldn¡¯t tell it wasn¡¯t you because I believed it. I don¡¯t think it matters how realistic my version of you was.¡±


    ¡±And you think she would have attacked me if I had been there?¡±


    ¡°You were, and she did,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°I realise you¡¯re trying to protect me,¡± said Simole, ¡°but I think you¡¯re forgetting something.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not trying to protect you,¡± said Nic. ¡°I¡¯m trying to protect me. What have I forgotten?¡±


    ¡°That as much as she might want my power, she has to take it from me first. She wasn¡¯t able to do it in the Other Place, I don¡¯t see why she would be able to do it here. I think it¡¯s far more likely she is manipulating you into thinking I¡¯m her target.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± said Simole. ¡°But we need to confront Winnum if we want to find out what she¡¯s really planning. The only other way we¡¯ll find out is after it happens. And that would be less than ideal.¡±


    ¡°She says the answer is in the Royal College. Once I see it, everything will become clear.¡±


    ¡°Is that all?¡± said Simole. ¡°That shouldn¡¯t be too difficult. You don¡¯t need to sit through a year of classes and pass any examinations to gain entry. Simply bang on the door and say, ¡°It is I, Nicolav Tutt, demon hunter. Let me in.¡¯ Or failing that, I can ask my father to give you the tour. He showed me around and I can assure you it is a spectacularly boring institution. What is it she plans to show you?¡±


    ¡°If I knew that I wouldn¡¯t need to go,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°Very funny,¡± said Simole. ¡°You don¡¯t think she¡¯s stringing you along? Since when is holding back information to anyone¡¯s advantage except the one who¡¯s holding back.¡±


    Nic placed another book on top of the stack in Simole¡¯s arms. ¡°Why did your father train you to kill mages?¡±


    ¡°Could you warn me when you¡¯re going to switch directions like that?¡± said Simole. ¡°You¡¯re liable to give me whiplash.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t you think it was an odd way to deal with a threat to the world? Remove the only line of defence.¡±


    ¡°And you have an explanation, courtesy of your favourite house guest?¡±


    ¡°Do you know much about the civil war?¡±


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t expecting a pop quiz. Will this count towards my final score?¡±


    ¡°The strangest thing about the war was the way it ended,¡± said Nic. ¡°All the rebel leaders died on the same night. It was like the war had given them a reason to collect in one place and make their allegiances known, making it easier for someone to get rid of them all at once. A culling. Only, Winnum claims it had nothing to do with the war and happened many years later.¡±


    Simole nodded. ¡°In the olden days, kings killed people they didn¡¯t like. I have no idea what the relevance of that would be to my father¡¯s actions.¡±


    ¡°No, I¡¯m not sure, either. But Winnum Roke thinks it will become clear once I reach the Royal College.¡±


    ¡°Then let¡¯s go,¡± said Simole. ¡°Let¡¯s go now, this minute. They can stop you, and they can stop her, but they can¡¯t stop me.¡±


    ¡°Because you¡¯ll kill them all?¡± asked Nic.


    ¡°No,¡± said Simole. ¡°Because my dad gave me my own key.¡±

 Change to Schedule

    For the rest of this month The Good Student will be posting once every other week (so no chapter today).


    This is because I''m having a problem keeping to my current schedule but I don''t want to take a complete break. I plan to take a break over the Xmas/New Year period anyway, so I just need to get to then. I''ve been working on a bunch of new content, so I don''t want to burn myself out before I have a chance to put that stuff out in January.This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    I also have some concerns about quality which I feel has dropped a bit recently (in all my stories) so I''m going to try to address that. Just need to step back and take a breath.


    For those reading my other stories, HTADDB will cut back to two chapters a week, Bitter will continue as normal.


    Any questions, you can find me on my Discord server. (LINK</a>). You can get the lastest updates and news on my stuff there.


    Cheers,


    mood

 Book 2: Chapter Six

    ¡°He isn¡¯t ready,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°I haven¡¯t even started his training.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ve been over this,¡± said Simole. ¡°Wake him up.¡±


    ¡°You wake him up.¡±


    ¡°With a kiss? I wouldn¡¯t want to take your place.¡±


    ¡°Shut up. He isn¡¯t even asleep. He¡¯s awake and listening to us quarrel.¡±


    ¡°Is he? The sly rascal. That¡¯s good. That¡¯s the sort of thing you need when you face impossible odds. And you learn the fastest when you¡¯re facing something real. There¡¯s no better training than real danger.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s ridiculous,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°Training isn¡¯t supposed to be a death sentence.¡±


    ¡°It worked for me,¡± said Simole, her eyes glittering like jewels in Nic¡¯s darkened bedroom. ¡°I¡¯m living proof that I¡¯m right.¡±


    Dizzy produced a growling sound that usually made Nic want to roll out of bed and duck underneath, but for once it wasn¡¯t aimed at him.


    ¡°It¡¯s hardly surprising it worked for you,¡± said Dizzy in a quiet voice brimming with hostile intentions. ¡°You¡¯re the Archmage¡¯s daughter. He¡¯s the son of a maid. He isn¡¯t special like you.¡±


    It was like they didn¡¯t even know he was there. No, it was worse than that. They knew he was there, awake, listening, but they didn¡¯t care what they said in front of him. His feelings were irrelevant because to them he didn¡¯t really have any. He wasn¡¯t even human, just a vessel they were deciding on how best to utilise.


    When he looked at it like that, their disagreement took on quite a reasonable appearance. Dizzy wished to wait until the contents of the vessel had matured and reached optimal potency, thus enabling a more efficient application.


    Simole, the born provocateur, wanted to smash the vessel open and check for honey in the most direct way possible, even if it turned out to be a wasp nest. Her confidence in her own ability to deal with troublesome consequences was phenomenal and probably justified. Although, the first time she was wrong would also probably be the last. A single wasp offered little threat, while a thousand presented an unbeatable challenge. To most people.


    Even Nic could feel the pressure she exerted on her surrounding just by being present. More than before, he was almost certain. Had her father given her further training? Had Winnum Roke?


    The other students shifted and flowed out of her path without even realising it. They were students of the Ransom School, smart enough to recognise an insurmountable threat. Simole wasn¡¯t the only one of those the school contained.


    What was it like being so sure of yourself? Did it make you happy? Did it make you feel safe? Did it lead to arrogance and conceited disregard for the wishes of the mere mortals who crawled around at your feet?


    He needed her, even though it helped emphasise his own weaknesses. The beauty of his position was that he was seen as weak already, so it only reinforced that view, which he could use to his advantage. Any misunderstanding of a situation was vulnerable to being exploited.


    Still, he had to be careful. Powerful people surrounded by the powerless never remained in harmony. Both sides would eventually have to react to the imbalance. He could not remain in her shadow much longer. It would only put her in danger.


    ¡°He¡¯s more prepared than you give him credit for,¡± said Simole. ¡°He wouldn¡¯t still be here otherwise, would he?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Dizzy, ¡°that¡¯s very true. He has somehow survived unfathomable dangers, but that¡¯s all it was, survival. I was hoping we could help him achieve more than that.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± said Simole. ¡°And why is that? What plans do you have for him afterwards?¡±


    The two girls were locked into some kind of battle for dominance. Nic wasn¡¯t vain enough to believe it really had anything to do with him. He was just the vessel. Sometimes, people noticed a well-crafted case, a box with artful hinges and a clasp that snapped shut with a satisfying sound. But the gift inside was what mattered to them most. The sparkling bracelet, the precious ring, the watch with an engraved message, these things made their eyes shine.


    It was what he contained that made him of value. It was what they thought he contained. So he had to maintain the charade, for now.


    ¡°He¡¯s small for his age,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°He always has been. He needs time to fill out.¡±


    She wasn¡¯t even looking at him. He studied the firmness of her stance, unyielding, saw the hint of tension in her shoulders anyone else might have missed.


    ¡°He¡¯s a late starter,¡± said Simole. ¡°A little stimulation might be just what he needs to get his spurt going.¡±


    ¡°Late starter? He¡¯s nearly a man.¡±


    ¡°Oh, is he? What are you planning to do with him afterwards?¡±


    It was a friendly kind of rivalry. Both respected the other¡¯s abilities. Neither accepted the other¡¯s leadership, yet. The only thing that seemed to unite them was him, and how best to put him to good use.


    Should we yoke him to the plough or to the cart? The fields need planting, but the goods need delivering.


    Nic smiled to himself, allowing the mild irritation at their dismissiveness to pass. He lay in bed, not making any move to get up. There was still time.


    He took slow breaths, the way the Librarian had taught him. She had tried to show him a path to self-control, but she had also been preparing him for work. He let that pass, too.


    He fell into a floating awareness, his heartbeat growing louder, the voices growing quieter, the movement of blood grinding against the walls of his veins.


    There was freedom to not being on the outside, not being fully alive. Here, the impermanence of flesh was irrelevant. The moment carried him, held him. No one was powerful enough to touch him here.


    ¡°You have an infuriatingly low opinion of yourself,¡± said a voice in the deep recesses of his mind. It was still possible to pick up her whispered words if he let his mind drift into this hazy state of daydream, but it was easiest to hear her at night.


    He could almost see her, a females shape lit from behind like a witch¡¯s shadow, her outline uneven like it was made out of cobwebs.


    ¡°Are you eavesdropping on my thoughts?¡± It would be embarrassing to have someone auditing his every passing fancy. He would have to be more deliberate in keeping her isolated to the parts that wouldn¡¯t shame him. Which parts were those?


    ¡°I simply wonder why you allow others to guide you. And always women. Do you have a mother fixation?¡±


    He could tell she was trying to get a rise out of him. Not out of malice, though, out of boredom.


    ¡°My mother hardly ever tells me what to do,¡± he said, ¡°and these two are trying their best to be helpful. Forcing them to do as I say won¡¯t make things move any faster, not without incurring additional risks.¡±


    ¡°So, you feel you could take command of them if you wished?¡± The voice was sceptical.


    ¡°I can¡¯t say for sure, but I know their strengths and when they¡¯ll be useful, and their weaknesses for when that becomes necessary. I have no need of their respect or admiration. It would only lead to complications. I admit it would be nice, though.¡±


    ¡°How is it you never speak with such assured confidence when you speak to them?¡± asked Winnum Roke.


    ¡°If you train your skills against those you may need to defeat, they will learn all your best moves,¡± said Nic. ¡°It¡¯s a well-established Ranvarian tactic. In many cases, I think wars against Ranvar were instigated by us just so we could ally with those we had identified as a more prominent threat in the future. It¡¯s not in any of the history books, not explicitly, but the pattern is hard to miss. We and another nation are mysteriously attacked by a foreign power bent on domination, even though they lack the infrastructure to maintain such a long-term strategy. We join forces against our common enemy and achieve cooperative victory by sharing resources and intelligence. And a few years later, we annex our former comrades in arms. Our assistance was a way to not only gain trust, but also a way to access information.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s very good,¡± said Winnum. ¡°How blind we were not to see the same tactic used against us, don¡¯t you think?¡±


    Nic was taken a little by surprise by the question. ¡°Used by whom?¡±


    ¡°Who are you talking to?¡±


    He sensed the two girls through closed eyelids, opened them, saw them standing over his bed, the lantern on his desk at its lowest setting. His focus shifted from the blurry middle-distance, to the much more sharp features of the two girls staring intently at him.


    ¡°Hmm?¡± he said sleepily. ¡°Me? Nobody.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s going to slowly take over your mind,¡± said Simole.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think so,¡± said Nic. ¡°And if she did, you¡¯d stop her.¡± He turned to Dizzy. ¡°You both would, without hesitation.¡±


    Dizzy frowned, Simole shrugged. Neither denied his assertion.


    It was the one good thing about their indifference towards him. If he did fail to maintain control, then there would be no problem for either of them to do what was necessary. Although, he expected there would be a number of people in line ahead of them for that honour.


    ¡°This is why we need to move quickly,¡± said Simole. ¡°While he has some control over her, we can get her to reveal the secrets of the Royal College to us. If we wait too long, who knows what she¡¯ll do to him.¡±


    ¡°And then what?¡± said Dizzy. ¡°What are we going to do with these secrets.¡±Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.


    ¡°How can we know that if we don¡¯t know what the secrets are?¡± said Simole. ¡°Perhaps we do nothing, I don¡¯t know. But this is something that affects me, I know it does. And probably you, too. There¡¯s only one way to know for sure, and there¡¯s very little risk if we act now before anyone suspects what we¡¯re doing. In and out, no one will even know we were there.¡±


    Dizzy had a look of extreme doubt on her face, her hair held back by a simple black ribbon from her oval face and yellow eyes. They continued to argue and Nic was forgotten once more; if only he could return the favour.


    ¡°She¡¯s more like a dream than the demon,¡± he said. They stopped talking, then. ¡°I sometimes think she isn¡¯t real, I just imagined her and planted her in my head for company. The demon was always trying to worm its way to the front, but she sits in the back and waits for me to come to her. I like to think it¡¯s a stray thought that passes too close, but I go looking, really. The things she knows are so enticing. I would like to know them, too. It¡¯s why she chose me, I think. Why they all did. The thing I can do, that others can¡¯t.¡± He looked up at them, both girls watching him closely, saying nothing, waiting for him to finish. ¡°There¡¯s only one thing I do better than anyone else. A long time ago I realised to be able to learn a lot, you have to be good at learning. Before reading and writing and counting, you have to be able to absorb and put it in the right place in your head. I just spent more time organising that space than other people. I can take it in quicker and retain it. She thinks I¡¯m capable of taking it all in, the totality. And when I have hold of all the different pieces, I¡¯ll make them reveal all their different sides, like turning puzzle pieces around in your hands to see how best to fit them together.¡±


    His head tilted towards Dizzy. ¡°You¡¯re right, I¡¯m not ready. Not for any real challenge that¡¯s been prepared for me.¡± He turned the other way, towards Simole. ¡°You¡¯re right, now is the perfect time to go and look, while they still think they have everything under their watchful gaze.¡±


    He removed the bedclothes with a sweep of his arm, and rose from the bed fully dressed. He sat down on his chair and put on his shoes. ¡°If I go tonight, then at least I¡¯ll know if she¡¯s real or just a figment of my imagination.¡±


    ¡°Nic,¡± said Simole, ¡°we both sensed the change in you. You aren¡¯t going insane.¡±


    ¡°Change,¡± said Nic. ¡°Yes, I¡¯ve changed. Who wouldn¡¯t be changed after what I went through? That doesn¡¯t mean the cause is what you think it is.¡±


    How much to tell them? In an exam, you answered the questions as quickly and accurately as you could, so that you could move onto the next one. Timing was irrelevant.


    In the real world, timing was everything. How and when and to whom, it all made a difference. The effect the truth had on an individual and those they passed the information onto, the ripples were all affected by the initial drop of the stone in the pond. It was marvellously complex and far beyond his current level of mastery. One day, perhaps¡­


    He stood up, ready. ¡°How are we going to get there?¡± he said to Simole.


    ¡°That¡¯s why she¡¯s here.¡± Simole nodded towards Dizzy.


    ¡°I¡¯m here because I chose to be,¡± said Dizzy.


    Simole rolled her eyes. ¡°There¡¯s no need to impress him with your fierce independence. He¡¯s already besotted with you. Although, who knows why? Some sort of childhood trauma, I expect. Psychological damage at an early age can produce a warped perspective, sometimes. Would you like me to unbreak your brain?¡±


    ¡°If you want to be alone with him, why didn¡¯t you just call up a dragon?¡± said Dizzy.


    ¡°Because we¡¯re trying to do this inconspicuously. It would be rather hard to sneak past the High Father of dragons if we come flying in on one of his daughters.¡±


    ¡°So you could summon one, then? Good, I was just checking.¡±


    The two locked eyes for a second. Nic had a fleeting image of them fighting for his affections, but it was the least likely of the prizes they might come to blows over. Still, it was a warming reflection on a cold night.


    ¡°Then you arranged a carriage?¡± said Nic.


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Dizzy, eyes still on Simole.


    ¡°One of your father¡¯s? You still have access to Ministry property?¡±


    Dizzy slowly turned to face him. ¡°Yes. The carriage and horses were always his. We¡¯re supposed to remove the Ministry insignia, but I haven¡¯t got around to it, yet. I¡¯ve been busy.¡±


    That would make travelling to the capital much easier. No one would stop a transport belonging to the Ministry for Instruction, especially in the middle of the night. Most people would pretend they hadn¡¯t even seen it.


    ¡°Then we should go. Don¡¯t worry, it really won¡¯t be very dangerous. If we get caught, we¡¯ll just blame Simole for making us do it. They¡¯ll believe anything if we tell them it was her idea.¡±


    ¡°Is that why you really want me to go with you?¡± said Simole. ¡°As a scapegoat?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said Nic. ¡°You also have to get us into the Royal College.¡±


    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t it be strange,¡± said Simole, ¡°if he was using both of us to get what he wanted? What would you do to him, if it turned out he¡¯d been manipulating us both and had no interest in our input?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°I¡¯d need time to compile a list.¡±


    ¡°If I was doing something like that,¡± said Nic, ¡°wouldn¡¯t it be more likely Winnum Roke was forcing me to do it? I¡¯m hardly capable of something so devious on my own. Look how small I am for my age.¡±


    As he left the room through the open window he thought he heard a sigh, but he had no idea which of the three it came from.


    They moved quickly across the school grounds to the wall on the other side of the pond. It was ten metres high with no trees close enough to use as an impromptu ladder.


    ¡°Here you are,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°Let¡¯s see how ready you are for this.¡±


    She immediately scrambled up the wall and disappeared over the top. Simole shrugged and then jumped over the wall in a single bound. Nic was left alone, with only the wall for company.


    His eyes scanned the surface for cracks or possible handholds in the near-darkness. The wall loomed over him, and yet looked down on him the least.


    He pressed his fingers into a slight indentation, balanced a toe in a tiny crevice, and began to climb.


    It took him ten minutes to get to the top. His fingers ached and his knees were scuffed. If he intended on becoming a more robust physical specimen, there was still a long way to go. He wondered if he would have the time.


    Nic sat on top of the wall for a second to catch his breath. Down below was a grass verge, and then the road. A black carriage waited, the two horses making no sound.


    If he jumped down from here, he would probably break both his legs. Even if he took care to land correctly and roll, he was still risking some pain. And he was far from adept at that kind of landing.


    He twisted and lowered himself, holding onto the top of the wall. His legs hung below him, the soles of his feet flattened against the stone. He let go and slid down the wall, his feet slowing his descent a small amount. When he felt he was close enough to the ground, he pushed off and fell backwards and landed heavily on his back.


    ¡°What was that?¡± hissed Dizzy.


    He hadn¡¯t seen her from the top of the wall and had assumed she was already in the carriage. Apparently, she had been waiting to critique his landing. He didn¡¯t expect his score would be very high.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t want to sprain an ankle.¡±


    ¡°So you decided to break your spine instead?¡±


    Nic got to his feet. He was unhurt apart from a slight knock to the back of his skull where it had bounced off the turf. A little jarring but otherwise a successful dismount.


    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± he said.


    ¡°I know you¡¯re holding something back,¡± she said.


    It was the biggest risk he was taking, allowing her to be so close to him. She knew him too well.


    ¡°You really have no need to worry about me.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not¡ª¡±


    ¡°She isn¡¯t even really here.¡±


    ¡°Stop it. Pretending this isn¡¯t real won¡¯t make it any less dangerous.¡±


    ¡°She never came back with me, I¡¯m not in danger of being possessed, there¡¯s nothing about the Royal College we need to fear.¡± He smiled at her, knowing it would drive her suspicions in the wrong direction. The truth was often the best lie.


    ¡°Hey, lovebirds,¡± said Simole from the carriage window. ¡°Move it.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s go before you trip and break your neck,¡± said Dizzy.


    The driver of the carriage said nothing as they got in. He was wrapped up in a large cloak so that not even his face was visible. He looked straight ahead.


    Once they were inside, Dizzy tapped the roof with her hand and the carriage set off. Simole was seated by the far window. Nic sat next to her, and Dizzy was to his left so that he was sandwiched between them. There was another wide empty seat opposite them, but it would mean having to be face to face. Nic preferred to stay where he was.


    ¡°This is exciting, isn¡¯t it?¡± said Simole. ¡°Our own little adventure.¡±


    ¡°This isn¡¯t one of your romance novels,¡± said Dizzy.


    ¡°It sort of is,¡± said Simole. ¡°The hero battling against forces beyond his abilities, the unrequited love for a slightly-better-than-average-looking girl, a secret race through the night ¡ª it has all the telltale signs of a romantic undertaking, don¡¯t you think?¡±


    ¡°Am I the hero?¡± asked Nic.


    ¡°Technically, yes,¡± said Simole. ¡°I think the story has potential, although I generally prefer a more appealing love interest. Someone you can see a hero sacrificing everything for.¡±


    ¡°I am not the love interest,¡± said Dizzy, through gritted teeth.


    ¡°Do you think you¡¯re the hero?¡± asked Simole. ¡°Maybe I¡¯m the love interest, then.¡±


    ¡°If I¡¯m the hero,¡± said Dizzy, ¡°you won¡¯t be the love interest.¡±


    ¡°Not your love interest, but sometimes there¡¯s more than one hero. Sometimes an unexpected character rises to the challenge when the hero dies. A farm boy, usually. Ever worked on a farm, Nic?¡±


    ¡°I used to pick strawberries from Dizzy¡¯s kitchen garden. Does that count?¡±


    It took an hour to reach the capital, and then only a few more minutes to get to the Royal College. Simole did most of the talking. Dizzy made disgruntled noises and Nic remained wary of saying too much. He needed to see if what Winnum Roke had told him was true, and then he would know what to do.


    No one stopped them or commented as they clattered through the cobbled streets of the capital. There were few pedestrians out this late, but even the guards on duty ignored the carriage, assuming it was on official business.


    The Royal College¡¯s walls were far taller than the school¡¯s. The carriage stopped outside the main gate which was closed and seemingly unguarded. It had little reason to be otherwise. No one came here unannounced.


    The carriage moved off as soon as they had climbed out. They stood before the Royal College and Nic felt his insignificance press down on him. Small for his age and getting smaller.


    ¡°Won¡¯t they hear you open the gate?¡± said Dizzy.


    ¡°Not this way,¡± said Simole. ¡°We¡¯ll go in the back.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s another way in?¡± said Dizzy. It might not have seemed such a remarkable claim, but the walls of the Royal College weren¡¯t just tall, they were seamless. The front gate was the only way in, supposedly.


    ¡°Of course. There are dozens, but I know the one only two or three people know about. It shouldn¡¯t be a problem this late. Even my father will be asleep by now.¡±


    ¡°What if he isn¡¯t?¡± said Dizzy.


    ¡°Then he¡¯ll be very busy. Either way, he won¡¯t worry about something so trivial as a mage sneaking back in after a night on the town.¡±


    Simole led them around the wall to the very rear of the structure. The surrounding buildings were all set back from the street, and dark. She stopped when they were out of sight of the main road and touched the red brick with both hands. There was no door or opening here, but she seemed to be looking for something.


    A few presses and touches, and the bricks parted to reveal an archway. They hurried through into a courtyard and the bricks slid back into place as though they had never been apart.


    ¡°See? Now, where is it we¡¯re supposed to go to find this big secret?¡±


    Nic closed his eyes and took a breath. When he opened them again, he pointed towards the opposite side of the yard.


    ¡°They¡¯ll take us.¡±


    A group of robed men appeared out of the shadows, led by the Archmage.


    ¡°A trap,¡± hissed Dizzy.


    ¡°No,¡± said Simole, glancing towards Nic. ¡°He knew they¡¯d be waiting. Just didn¡¯t tell us.¡±


    ¡°He said you would be here,¡± said the Archmage in a rumbling voice.


    ¡°Take me to him,¡± said Nic. He stepped past the two girls who had moved to shield him. It was an oddly touching yet condescending thing that he was still unsure how to deal with. Were they protecting him or what they thought he carried?


    The robed mages stepped aside to let them pass, led by the Archmage. They walked through a larger archway into a much bigger courtyard filled with mages. Dizzy and Simole followed, mildly cautious, deeply annoyed.


    The mages stood with their backs to the arrivals.


    A few noticed the Archmage and moved to one side, tapping those ahead of them on the shoulder. The gathering peeled open as more and more mages stepped to the side, finally revealing the dragon curled in repose. The massive black shape would only be the High Father.


    ¡°He is dying,¡± said the Archmage.


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Nic. ¡°She said he would. I thought maybe she was lying.¡±


    ¡°She wasn¡¯t,¡± said the Archmage. ¡°And when he dies, all magic dies with him.¡±

 Book 2: Chapter Seven

    Nic gritted his teeth and forced himself to keep walking forward. The effort required was surprisingly large. The gathered mages ¡ª dozens of them, maybe more ¡ª exerted a weird kind of pressure simply by applying only their attention to him. So many eyes with so many questions, all turned towards him, made Nic¡¯s legs tremble.


    They weren¡¯t voicing their questions, they weren¡¯t making any sound at all. But they were expecting something. Their eyes were seeking, their bodies poised to rush forward and grab it as soon as it appeared. Nic felt a weakness, almost a revulsion. Only by picturing levers in his mind, and the pattern of their movement, was he able to instruct his lower limbs to function.


    He had expected some sort of anxiety when he came here. He had been steeling himself for it during the ride. But no matter how well you might anticipate a problem, there was nothing like the actual raw power of experiencing it in person. Books could not prepare him for acute pressure-sickness.


    Nic approached the High Father, father of all dragons. The previous times he had encountered the massive beast, it had been a slithery monster of condensed power barely contained, always moving, even when stood still, its muscles writhing under dark scales.


    This time was different. The long snout was unnaturally swollen, the scales were dull and limp, the wings were collapsed around the body like a broken umbrella that no longer responds to being opened.


    There was no steam rising from the large nostrils. The eyes that were piercingly alert and almost physically penetrating, were closed. There was still a little movement under the skin that indicated the creature was not dead. Not yet.


    ¡°What ha¡ª¡± Nic¡¯s question hadn¡¯t left his lips before there was a rush of air beside him and Simole shot past. Nic was lucky to not have been bowled over, but a steady hand caught the back of his coat and pulled him back to an upright position. A swift movement not performed tenderly.


    Simole arrived at the dragon¡¯s nose and didn¡¯t stop, launching herself onto the elongated snout with arms extended.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ll save you,¡± she said as she wrapped herself around the most fearsome demon of them all. The dragon seemed to shrink in her arms.


    Simole¡¯s interruption took the focus off Nic, much to his relief. He could breathe again and, more importantly, think again. He took a moment to take in the situation.


    The dragon was in the middle of a large courtyard. The mages had formed a circle around him. Why? What were they planning to do? They probably weren¡¯t going to provide him with answers just because he asked. Rather, they would be the ones asking him questions. And they would expect answers.


    ¡°What did you do to him?¡± said Simole.


    The assembled masters and apprentices remained silent. Even the Archmage didn¡¯t speak.


    Simole turned, her face filled with rage. ¡°Bloodsuckers! What are you doing here? GO! Get away from him. Or do you want me to take back what you¡¯ve stolen already?¡±


    Nic wasn¡¯t sure what she was saying, but there was no doubting she meant every word. The mages shuffled away from her, some of them leaving, all of them considering it.


    ¡°What did you do?¡± Now she was asking only her father.


    ¡°It is not I you should ask.¡± He turned to look at Nic. Nic¡¯s jaw tightened again. He really had to find a way to calm himself in tense situations. His mother always suggested herbal tea. Now probably wasn¡¯t the time to ask for a cup.


    ¡°Winnum Roke.¡± His voice sounded strained and caught in the back of his throat. He tried to clear it with a sharp cough. ¡°She said once the door to the Other Place was shut ¡ª properly closed ¡ª this would happen. It would affect him most of all.¡±


    There was some murmuring from the mages. Was this news to them? This much they must have figure out already.


    Simole¡¯s eyes narrowed. She knew Nic carried a passenger, the one he had just named. At least, that was what she believed. Nic judged her to be couching her next question in language that wouldn¡¯t give him away. Which meant she was still on his side, for now. Her relationship to the dragon was close. She had grown up with the giant lizard as a guardian, as a beloved pet. Even though she knew what it was underneath the scales and claws, her bond with the monster was no less intense. If you could love a fanged, flying leviathan of death, what difference would a little demonic heritage make?


    ¡°You shut the door behind you?¡± she said.


    ¡°The door is closed,¡± said Nic, as careful with his wording as she. He hadn¡¯t closed the door himself, Winnum Roke had done that. And she had done it from that side, locking herself in. Allowing him to leave with a parting gift lodged in his brain.


    ¡°And you knew this would happen?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure what this is,¡± said Nic. ¡°Why is everyone standing around doing nothing?¡±


    They had gathered here, which meant something was going to happen, didn¡¯t it? No one was attempting to heal the dragon. Were they just going to bear witness?


    ¡°Can¡¯t you feel it?¡± said Simole. ¡°The Arcanum pouring out of him?¡±


    Nic took a moment to calm his senses. There was such an overwhelming number of mages here, it was hard to notice anything else, but under their stifling presence, there was more. A thickness to the air, a crackle against his skin. His fingertips were warm and dry. He felt like he could start a fire just by snapping his fingers.


    ¡°The High Father is leaking?¡± asked Nic. ¡°No, I didn¡¯t know that was going to happen. I just knew he would stop being able to hold this form.¡±


    Simole¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°He won¡¯t die?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± said Nic. ¡°I guess he¡¯ll sort of decompose.¡± The answer did not please her. He hurriedly continued. ¡°I don¡¯t know what will happen once this form collapses. He uses more Arcanum than anyone. What will it do to the city, if he lets it all out here? Is the college shielded from¡­ I mean, is the city shielded from the college?¡±


    ¡°The city won¡¯t be flooded,¡± said the Archmage. ¡°The Arcanum will be absorbed.¡± He was being restrained, Nic could tell. Waiting for Nic¡¯s answers rather than demanding them. Once he got as much information as he could that way, then?


    Absorbed. By what? Nic looked around but there were only the nervous mages. On edge, wary of Simole¡­ No, not just that. Excited. Were they the sponges waiting for the High Father to rupture and release his Arcanum? Was that what Simole had meant when she called them vampires?


    Mages were powerful, but they hoarded their power and greedily tried to attain more. They were petty men, at heart.


    Yessss, a stray thought seemed to confirm, but it could just as well have been the soft snort of air through his nose as he tried to maintain his composure.


    ¡°Could you clear the courtyard?¡± said Nic. It wasn¡¯t really a question, or even a request. It wasn¡¯t an order, certainly. It was¡­ a favour. He was owed one, he felt.


    ¡°You want to be alone?¡± asked the Archmage, watching Nic intently. He was trying to ascertain what Nic was after. He was treating him with respect, the way you would respect a scorpion or a snake. Not as an equal, just as a threat that could be avoided if you were careful. Nic wasn¡¯t going to be underestimated.


    ¡°Not alone, just not all of them.¡± His eyes glanced past the Archmage and back again. ¡°They make me nervous. Don¡¯t they have duties to attend to?¡± He had no idea how mages conducted themselves in the Royal College, but surely they had something to do, even if it was only sleeping.


    There was more murmuring around him. Nic picked up a word or two. He turned away from the Archmage. ¡°I¡¯m not going to take the Arcanum for myself, if that¡¯s what you think. I¡¯m not a mage.¡±


    No one answered, nor did they move. They looked hungry.


    Nic turned to the Archmage again. ¡°Are you no longer in control here?¡±


    ¡°They are barely in control of themselves. They are drawn here,¡± said the Archmage. ¡°None of them can resist the High Father¡¯s call.¡± Nic had never been around this many mages at once, but he was fairly sure they wouldn¡¯t normally act like this.


    ¡°Come, I wish to speak to you in private,¡± said the Archmage.


    ¡°I¡¯m staying here,¡± said Simole, glaring at the starving pack crowding her.


    ¡°Okay,¡± said Nic. ¡°I want to bring her.¡± He indicated Dizzy, who looked mildly surprised.


    ¡°I would rather we were alone,¡± said the Archmage.


    ¡°Yes. But I feel less intimidated with her around, and less likely to stumble my way through what I have to tell you.¡±


    The Archmage raised an eyebrow. ¡°You feel she will protect you?¡± He gave Dizzy a quizzical look, which she returned equally quizzical.


    ¡°No,¡± said Nic. ¡°Not exactly. You know how if you have a toothache and you pinch your arm you can distract yourself from the pain in your mouth?¡± The quizzical looks were turned in his direction by both parties. Was he being too specific? Wasn¡¯t this a universal thing?


    ¡°She is your pinched arm?¡± asked the mage.


    ¡°She is a pain,¡± said Nic, ¡°that I find useful.¡±


    Nic noticed that everyone was now staring at him. Even though there were all these people, they were too distracted to listen to him, he had thought. But he had managed to draw them away from their primary focus. Nic glanced over at the corpse-like lizard behind Simole. An eyelid rose, revealing a giant green eye, the yellow vertical line at its centre narrowing and then shortening until it was just a dot. The eye closed.


    No one else had seen it. They were all too busy wondering what the little boy was rambling on about. And probably also wondering why the little girl was burning her gaze into him. Nic could feel that without turning his head.


    ¡°Very well,¡± said the Archmage. ¡°Follow me.¡±


    The mages parted as he led the way through an archway into the large building that was as tall as a tower.


    Nic followed with Dizzy close on his heels. He could practically feel her breath on the back of his neck. The night air was cold, the breath was colder.


    The Archmage led them to a winding staircase that went up and up without break. There had to be more floors in between, but this was a direct route to the top.


    They came out in a large room with a large fireplace that provided the only source of light. The Archmage waved a hand and the flames rose, illuminating the room. There was a desk and chairs, some books on a shelf and papers on the desk.


    ¡°Sit,¡± said the Archmage. ¡°And then tell me why Winnum Roke would do this.¡±


    ¡°She wants the accord between mages and demons to end,¡± said Nic, without sitting. ¡°While there was a door between the two realms, there was a flow of Arcanum.¡±


    ¡°Even though the door was closed?¡± said Dizzy.


    ¡°Yes. It was closed to us, not to the Arcanum. But Winnum Roke didn¡¯t just close the door behind me, she broke it.¡±


    ¡°Then, she can never return,¡± said the Archmage.


    ¡°No,¡± said Nic. ¡°The part of her that is there will forever stay there. And the demons will forever stay here, even after they achieve the transformation they are seeking.¡±


    ¡°But why would she do this?¡± asked the Archmage once more. ¡°Revenge? We will all be long dead by the time that happens.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know if I would call it revenge. I think it will teach you a lesson, but I¡¯m not sure what good that would do. With the link between planes gone, the demons will struggle to find the Arcanum to evolve. They may become unsettled in their current¡­ accommodations. You¡­ your mages may find it harder to keep control if their guests become agitated. Hungry.¡±


    The Archmage, who hadn¡¯t taken a seat either, walked over to the window and looked down. ¡°Hungry.¡± He nodded. ¡°She means to have us turn on each other. It is something I have considered. Prepared for.¡±


    Nic moved over to the next window along. Down below was the courtyard where the High Father lay. The mages still surrounded him. Simole remained his guardian. Simole.If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    ¡°You think she will be able to prevent any of them going rogue?¡± Nic asked.


    ¡°Prevent?¡± said the Archmage. ¡°No. But she will be able to put them down, if need be. She has spent some time here, gotten to know a few of them. I don¡¯t believe she will have any qualms about it.¡±


    Nic frowned. Was this what Simole had been trained for? Could the Archmage have really predicted this turn of events?


    ¡°Don¡¯t you wish to see what becomes of the Father of All Dragons first?¡± Nic asked the Archmage.


    ¡°With the connection severed, he will have to resume his true form,¡± said the Archmage.


    ¡°Which is what?¡± asked Dizzy.


    The Archmage turned to her, his face showing a little surprise, like he¡¯d forgotten she was there, and a little disdain, like maybe she shouldn¡¯t have been. ¡°I do not know.¡±


    ¡°And you knew this was her plan?¡± Dizzy said turning on Nic. He tried to indicate that she should be less confrontational via his narrowed eyes slowly widening, which she saw and understood, and ignored. ¡°And you still allowed her to do this?¡±


    ¡°It isn¡¯t really a plan,¡± said Nic. ¡°She doesn¡¯t know what will happen, only that it will speed things up. We will find out now what would have happened many centuries in the future. Why burden our descendants with the consequences of our actions? Shouldn¡¯t we be the ones to face them?¡±


    ¡°You agree with her?¡± Dizzy asked, her temper rapidly shortening.


    ¡°No,¡± said Nic. ¡°I¡­ It was better than the alternatives, that¡¯s all.¡±


    ¡°This chaos would be less chaotic than the other chaoses?¡± she asked with mock civility.


    ¡°Not chaos,¡± said Nic. ¡°Not necessarily. It¡¯s hard to explain.¡±


    Irritation flashed in her eyes. ¡°You don¡¯t think the mages will start to abuse their power when they get desperate for Arcanum?¡± Dizzy pressed, moving towards him a little.


    ¡°If they do, then¡­¡±


    ¡°Simole will take care of it?¡± She looked across at the Archmage. ¡°You¡¯re both as bad as each other. Sitting back and waiting for others to clean up your mess.¡±


    ¡°I see what you mean,¡± said the Archmage to Nic. ¡°She is¡­ tenacious.¡±


    ¡°Everyone is,¡± said Dizzy, ¡°when they have a strong enough reason to be.¡±


    ¡°There is still time,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°How do you know?¡± said Dizzy.


    ¡°I¡­ think there is time.¡±


    ¡°You think?¡± Dizzy raised an incredulous eyebrow.


    ¡°We don¡¯t need to rush things,¡± agreed the Archmage.


    ¡°You think?¡± Dizzy made a point of emphasising the first word.


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Nic. He looked to the Archmage, who granted him a short nod of support.


    The light in Dizzy¡¯s eyes roared like the fire behind her. ¡°What I would like to know is, if you say Winnum Roke is now safely locked behind a door which will no longer open, not even a peep or a crack, what is it you¡¯re carrying around inside your head?¡±


    Nic glanced over at the Archmage. It wasn¡¯t like the most powerful mage in the country wouldn¡¯t already have suspected something along similar lines. But now Dizzy had named it and made it flesh.


    ¡°You brought someone back,¡± said Archmage van Dastan. It wasn¡¯t even a question.


    ¡°Not someone. Some¡­ thing. It¡¯s like a ghost,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± said Dizzy. ¡°Winnum Roke¡¯s ghost?¡±


    ¡°Not actually a ghost, but like one.¡± He turned to the Archmage. ¡°You remember how you brought Tenner back after he died, to bear witness on what had happened to Simole?¡± The Archmage nodded slowly, cautiously. ¡°Winnum Roke used a similar process on me.¡±


    ¡°She put an imprint of herself in your mind?¡± said the Archmage.


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°You can access her thoughts? Her memories?¡±


    ¡°Sort of. Yes.¡± What was he supposed to say? That there was a version of Winnum Roke in his head that talked to him at night? He would sound insane.


    ¡°This could be very useful,¡± said the Archmage.


    ¡°Clearly,¡± said Dizzy, ¡°if she put it in your head, she did it for a reason. One that I doubt is going to be to our benefit.¡± She turned her attention to the Archmage. ¡°Why aren¡¯t you more concerned?¡±


    ¡°I am. I certainly am. But this is as much an opportunity as a concern.¡± He stroked his beard. ¡°Yes, yes. I must think on this. You should have said something about this earlier.¡±


    ¡°I was still, um, processing what had happened,¡± said Nic. ¡°It¡¯s not quite like having a book in my head I can open at any page. It¡¯s more like a jumble of information I can¡¯t quite grasp, yet.¡±


    There was a distinct harumph sound deep in his consciousness. He gritted his teeth to make sure it stayed there.


    ¡°Very well. You will remain here for the night, I think. That will be best. I assume you did not receive permission to leave the school. And the Secret Service are distracted at the moment¡­ I will send word to the school that I have summoned you. There will be somewhere for you to sleep. In the morning, we can discuss this matter further. I must spend time thinking about this, and I need to see to the High Father. Yes.¡±


    ¡°What about me?¡± said Dizzy, her brow furrowed at how quickly her voice had been swept aside.


    ¡°You can share a room,¡± said the Archmage, ¡°with my daughter.¡±


    Dizzy nodded, somewhat relieved. Nic wasn¡¯t sure because she got to stay, or she didn¡¯t have to share a room with him.


    It was all taken care of in an instant. Would that other problems could be solved as quickly. The Archmage rang a bell and a small, hunched-over man in a plain brown robe appeared from another door.


    ¡°Yes, Archmage?¡±


    ¡°Bartlett, have this boy settled with one of the new acolytes for the night. He is a friend of my daughter¡¯s. I don¡¯t want him to be put with someone too chatty. He will need a good night¡¯s sleep.¡±


    ¡°There is an empty room he could¡ª¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said the Archmage. ¡°I do not wish him to be left alone.¡±


    Was that because he didn¡¯t trust him or because he feared for his safety?


    ¡°You, come with me,¡± said the Archmage to Dizzy. ¡°We will attempt to prise Simole away from her beloved pet, who could destroy us all.¡±


    They parted in different directions. Nic caught Dizzy¡¯s eye as she began the descent down the stairs. It was a cold and suspicious look she shot at him.


    ¡°This way, please,¡± said Bartlett. He led Nic through the other door, into a cold passage with white walls that seemed like they had once been another colour.


    ¡°Are you a mage?¡± asked Nic.


    ¡°Me? No, no. A simple attendant and general dogsbody. Even mighty wizards need their robes cleaned and their bed linen changed on occasion. It¡¯s next to impossible to employ a chambermaid for such tasks. They¡¯re all too terrified to fold a pillowcase within these walls.¡±


    He spoke humbly, with humour, and there was no aura of condescension clouding his words the way mages had a tendency to do. He just worked here.


    They came to some stairs, wide and going down in flights rather than the endless curving of the stairwell to the Archmage¡¯s study. Every landing seemed to lead to an endless passageway, with doors and lamps, but no sign of people.


    On the third landing down, Bartlett headed into the passage on this floor. Nic wasn¡¯t sure what floor it was, the unbroken climb up and unfamiliar climb down had muddled his bearings. He had never had a good sense of direction.


    This passage seemed to have fewer doors. They came to a set of double doors which Bartlett pushed through without knocking, and rather than a bedroom or dormitory, they entered a large study area with tables and shelves full of books.


    There were a number of young men ¡ª only men, it seemed ¡ª scribbling notes or reading. Five of them, after a quick headcount, none wearing the robes of a mage. Only two looked up as they entered, and only a cursory glance.


    Bartlett went over to one of the tables where a mess of wavy hair bowed over a manuscript while a pen marched furiously across the page, rising and falling in bursts rather than flowing.


    ¡°Ahem,¡± coughed Bartlett. ¡°Mallory? If I may interrupt?¡±


    The pen stopped scratching at the page and a familiar face looked up. It was the Mallory Nic had spent a year living under, not that he ever got to know the second-year Also-Ran very well. Or at all. Now he was the second-year, and Mallory was¡­ what?


    ¡°Hello, Mallory,¡± said Nic.


    Mallory¡¯s face took a moment to register the surprise. ¡°Oh. It¡¯s Nic, isn¡¯t it? Fancy seeing you here.¡±


    ¡°You knew each other at Ransom?¡± asked Bartlett, his inquiry polite and not at all impatient.


    ¡°Yes. We lived together,¡± said Nic. ¡°Above and below.¡± He pointed to Mallory and then himself.


    ¡°I see,¡± said Bartlett. ¡°That¡¯s good, then. Mallory, the Archmage has requested a bed for this young man, for the night. I believe you are currently without a roommate.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Bartlett. I¡¯d be happy to extend a little hospitality to a fellow Also¡­ Ransom boy.¡±


    He smiled warmly. No roommate. Did that mean he was being treated as a lesser here, too?


    ¡°Good. Then I can leave it to you?¡± Bartlett said. Mallory nodded. ¡°Have him breakfasted tomorrow morning and I¡¯ll find you in the dining hall.¡± Bartlett smiled at Nic and then turned and left.


    Nic stood there, a little unsure of the situation. He had been asked to stay the night for some kind of interaction with the Archmage in the morning. No appointed time or place, nothing to allow him to prepare. This was as prepared as he would get.


    ¡°What are you doing here?¡± said Mallory as he packed up his bag. He sounded curious and a little astonished. No jealousy that a younger man might be here to steal his glory, which was how mages generally appeared to Nic; vain and desperate. The scene outside had not lessened that view.


    ¡°I came with the Archmage¡¯s daughter. Simole. You remember her.¡±


    Mallory nodded like it all made sense now. ¡°Of course.¡± He looked down at his hands and flexed the fingers. ¡°Of course. I¡¯d like to see her, to thank her again.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure if that¡¯ll be possible,¡± said Nic. ¡°But how are you here? We were told no one from last year was admitted to the Royal College.¡± Mr Periwinkle had very clearly told them that. But then, Mr Periwinkle was an odd man who couldn¡¯t really be trusted. Nic looked around at the other men in the room, none of whom he recognised. ¡°Who are they?¡± he whispered.


    No one had bothered to look at the two of them when they were chatting away, but as soon as Nic lowered his voice, he felt their eyes on him.


    Mallory gathered up the last of his papers and led Nic out by the elbow. ¡°Acolytes, trainees, prospective candidates. Those who don¡¯t get automatic entry can still take tests to prove themselves. Not everything revolves around test results and the Ransom school, you know? People slip through the nets all the time. Several more nets are placed to catch them.¡±


    He led Nic into the passage, releasing his arm, but his brisk pace seemed to draw Nic along as though there were still attached.


    ¡°Those who are determined to find a place can study and prepare for years, waiting for a spot to open up. It¡¯s not as bad as it sounds. The food here is very plain but abundant.¡±


    Nic understood the lure of a great desire, but it sounded like a huge gamble to keep scrambling up a mountain that was constantly growing. It also sounded like something only the child from a wealthy family could afford to do. A large investment, not least in time.


    They were back on the stairs now, going up again. Only one flight, and then along passages with doors on either side. Mallory stopped at one and opened it with a key he had hanging around his neck.


    ¡°This is us,¡± he said. ¡°Don¡¯t get your hopes up, it¡¯s no palace boudoir.¡±


    It wasn¡¯t. A small room with a single bed up against the wall on either side. No windows. There were no chairs, no table. A single chest sat at the foot of each bed.


    ¡°I can lend you a nightshirt, if you¡¯d like,¡± Mallory offered. Nic accepted with a grateful nod. ¡°Check the locker at the foot of the bed there.¡±


    Nic opened the lid of the chest. It wasn¡¯t locked but a little stiff. It popped up, revealing some white linen and a nightshirt.


    ¡°This comes with the room?¡± Nic asked.


    ¡°No. It was there when I moved in. Presumably belonging to the last occupant. I expect he died in some horrible accident, which was no doubt covered up.¡± Mallory grinned at Nic¡¯s obvious discomfort. ¡°Oh, and I should warn you, you might not be entirely alone under the covers.¡±


    Nic hardly dared ask what that meant, so responded with a questioning look, which was not much of a compromise.


    ¡°Bed bugs, or maybe mites. Fleas, possibly. It¡¯s best not to investigate too closely, just shake out the sheets. Mages and young men from the big houses are not all that house proud, and maids are hard to convince when it comes to hiring domestics. I¡¯m told once you are sufficiently adept at the magical arts, it is the first spell everyone learns ¡ª the firefly.¡± Malory pointed a finger and made a zzzzt sound. ¡°Funny, isn¡¯t it? The most powerful men in the world, all eager to become pest controllers.¡±


    It wasn¡¯t all that different from what they became once they advanced in skill. The pests just got bigger.


    Nic changed into the nightshirt loaner. It was far too big and his hands disappeared into the sleeves.


    ¡°Here,¡± said Mallory. ¡°Take some of this.¡± He had a small brown bottle which he had taken from his own footlocker. He poured some red syrupy liquid into the cap, which served as a small cup. ¡°It¡¯s camfum. It makes your natural perspiration smell slightly, which acts as an insect repellent. We may not be a house proud bunch, but we find ways around the major inconveniences. It will keep you from getting bitten. Mostly.¡±


    Nic had heard of camfum, but never had a reason to use it. He wondered if it could really be that effective simply by being present in the body. There was no reason not to test it out now ¡ª he didn¡¯t want to wake up itching all over. He took a small swig. It tasted sugary and smelled vaguely flowery.


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid I need to get to sleep. They drive us pretty hard and offer no mercy if we fail to keep up. I would tell you about it, but we¡¯re supposed to keep everything that happens here hush-hush, even if we wash out, which most do, as I¡¯m sure you can imagine.¡±


    Nic lay down on the lumpy bed and let the darkness settle over him. Mallory¡¯s breathing soon changed to a shallow and regular panting. He had expected to be asked questions. He had hoped to ask a few of his own. Lying there, he fancied he could feel something crawling around under him. The suggestion there were bed bugs was enough to make his skin crawl in awful anticipation.


    ¡°The answer is yes, we are not alone in this bed.¡± The voice came from deep inside him. At least his lips hadn¡¯t been commandeered and woken Mallory.


    ¡°How do you know?¡± asked Nic, careful to think his words rather than say them. At night, he was able to clear his mind enough to carry a conversation like this, in small bursts.


    ¡°I sense them. Their presence is like beads of hot light. A dozen lice, four ticks, a beetle ¡ª quite a big one, actually ¡ª and an assortment of other insects. A community we are now part of. Don¡¯t be too alarmed. They are mostly inside the mattress. The sheets are occupied by only you alone.¡±


    Not quite alone. Even without the menagerie, he would still have one fellow occupant.


    ¡°You can do that?¡±


    ¡°Why not? An imprint can sometimes be as useful as the original. A drawing of a carrot might not be much of a substitute for the real thing in a casserole, but a picture of a sign¡ª¡±


    ¡°Won¡¯t tell you which direction your destination lies or how far it is,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°Unless you are standing where the old sign used to be,¡± said Winnum Roke¡¯s ghost. ¡°That poor girl.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± said Nic.


    ¡°You dragged her along just to provoke her into raising questions you didn¡¯t want to bring up yourself. Demon you may not be, but there¡¯s more than a little devil in you, Nic Tutt. I can sense her feelings, you know? Would you like me to list them?¡±


    ¡°Can you sense other things?¡± Nic asked, swiftly changing the subject.


    ¡°You mean as a lowly imprint of the great Archmage Roke?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s technically true,¡± said Nic. ¡°That¡¯s what you are.¡±


    ¡°A lie is also technically true, depending on the technicalities being used.¡±


    ¡°How far do your senses reach? Across the Royal College? Across the city?¡±


    ¡°Subtle things close, unsubtle things from not as close. This room. The hallway outside the door. The cup you drank from earlier.¡±


    ¡°What about the cup?¡±


    ¡°It didn¡¯t contain camfum.¡±


    ¡°What did it contain?¡±


    ¡°A sedative. A mild one, but effective enough.¡±


    ¡°Effective enough for what?¡± asked Nic.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± said Winnum Roke. ¡°Why don¡¯t you ask the sedater? He is coming over to your bed now.¡±

 Book 2: Chapter Eight

    Nic didn¡¯t feel sleepy. He had a moment ago, but his head was clear now. Very clear. His body, however, was not responding to his clarity.


    He had tried to move his fingers and toes with no success. He couldn¡¯t even turn his head or open his eyes. He was helpless.


    When wasn¡¯t he, though? There was no point panicking about it or feeling sorry for himself. This was not a situation that was completely lost; not yet. This was not the work of a demon or a mage. This was Mallory.


    What Nic really feared was that he would have to be saved, again. A heroic knight in a nightie and pigtails bursting through the door in the nick of time. He had had quite enough of being the damsel in distress.


    His life at the centre of these infernal events never seemed to raise him up to the level of competent challenger. He was merely a pawn being moved around a board at someone else¡¯s behest. And rescued from certain annihilation the same way.


    But this was Mallory. This was the boy who Nic had helped save, who couldn¡¯t even defend himself. If Nic was ever going to prove himself capable of overcoming an opponent on his own, surely this was the ideal opponent for the role.


    It was time Nic learned to save himself. He had gone through a very intensive training camp putting him in extreme situations against invincible foes, now he had to show what he¡¯d learned and prove his mettle.


    He listened. His hearing wasn¡¯t paralysed, at least. Footsteps came closer, soft, shoeless. The floorboard creaked gently and when he strained, irregular breathing that stopped and started. A presence neared, the weight of it seemed to press against Nic¡¯s body.


    An eyelid was thumbed upwards and Nic¡¯s exposed eye was dazzled by a light. Behind it was a startled face, eyes widened in shock. The eyelid was released and snapped back in place, returning Nic to the dark.


    It had definitely been Mallory, that much he had been able to ascertain. Beyond that, nothing was clear. Mallory¡¯s face had shown fear and confusion. If he had wanted to check Nic was unconscious, he hadn¡¯t liked what he¡¯d seen, apparently. Footsteps, less guarded, stumbled away. Then there was nothing.


    Was it normal for Nic to be able to think while under the effects of this drug, or was that because of Winnum¡¯s presence? If she could keep his mind alert, why not the rest of his body?


    ¡°You could have warned me,¡± Nic thought to himself, although his words were aimed at her.


    ¡°If you had asked before drinking, yes,¡± said Winnum. ¡°Now it is too late.¡±


    ¡°Can¡¯t you remove the drug from my body or neutralise its effects?¡± It was a vain hope, but if Winnum would only respond to requests and not volunteer assistance, he might as well ask. Would her help constitute having to rely on someone else? It didn¡¯t seem likely he¡¯d need to make that judgement.


    ¡°I am flattered by the powers you deign to bless me with.¡± There was a gentle mocking to her soundless words. ¡°I am simply a voice in your head. A brilliant and wise voice, but no more able to cure the lame or heal the sick than you.¡±


    ¡°You were able to detect the bugs in the mattress,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°I am also able to sense the poison in your blood. There is a big difference between being aware of a problem and being able to do something about it.¡± Still mocking, almost a delight in his predicament. Did she see this as some kind of indirect victory over him? He had kept her prisoner in his body, and now he had become her cellmate.


    ¡°If something happens to me, won¡¯t it also put you in danger?¡± he said. ¡°You are more likely to be the target of this than I am.¡±


    It did seem a more feasible possibility that whatever Mallory was after, it was related to the ex-Archmage.


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Winnum¡¯s voice. ¡°Unless the boy has designs on your body.¡±


    Even though he already couldn¡¯t move, Nic froze a little harder. He hadn¡¯t considered something like that.


    No, she was being ridiculous. Mallory had never exhibited any inclinations of that sort.


    But then, what did he really know about the older boy?


    There had never been anything other than cordial relations between them, so why would Mallory turn on him now? They might not have been friends, but Nic would class their relationship as friendly. Mallory had seemed grateful to him and the others for their help, so why?


    Nic listened again. Some sort of sound¡­ Breathing? Panting?


    He was there, Nic was sure. Waiting. He wanted to be sure the drug was fully active before approaching again. Cautious or nervous? Had he learned to be patient through practice, or was he hesitant because this was his first time doing something like this?


    He had to be acting under someone else¡¯s orders. Unless it was for the nefarious reason Winnum had suggested.


    No, it was even more preposterous now that he thought about it. The risk of being caught would be insurmountable. Archmage van Dastan himself was aware of Nic¡¯s presence here. Unless, of course, Mallory was acting under orders from the Archmage.


    To think, after all Nic had been through, this was where he would be caught out. He couldn¡¯t accept it. Wouldn¡¯t. Not without seriously attempting to free himself using the resources he had at his disposal.


    Winnum Roke was a brilliant mind, and even if she wasn¡¯t able to remove the sedative, she had the knowledge of an archmage to draw from. She also knew the Royal College intimately, and had the ability to send out probes. There had to be a way to use that to his advantage.


    She had also kept his mind clear, although Nic suspected that was more to do with the fact it was a mind she shared and her reasons were more than likely self-serving. If he was mentally incapacitated, she would be also. Still, if she had the ability to shield his mind, there was the chance it could be used in some way.


    There was a sound, a distinct one. The door opening. Was Mallory leaving, or was someone else arriving?


    Nic didn¡¯t panic. He was calm and observant, listening intently. Some small thing could provide him with the means to escape his invisible shackles.


    Voices whispered, two of them, too quiet for him to be a able to hear what was being said.


    ¡°Can you hear them?¡± Nic asked Winnum. ¡°Your senses are sharper than mine.¡± If she could sense bugs in the mattress, surely she could hear words a few metres away.


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Winnum Roke. ¡°I can hear every word.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s two of them?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Mallory and¡­?¡±


    ¡°The man who introduced you.¡±


    ¡°You mean Bartlett, the Archmage¡¯s assistant?¡± Did that mean the Archmage was behind this? Nic could easily believe Archmage van Dastan might want to extract information from him, but why go to these lengths?


    To prevent Simole discovering what he was up to was the only thing that came to mind.


    ¡°What are they saying?¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re talking about you, very lovingly. They consider you a great prize.¡±


    The voice in his head was meant to be a repository of everything known to Winnum Roke. Not a person, not her, just her combined wealth of knowledge. The sly personality was merely an affectation, he had convinced himself. His belief was the source of his confidence that he could keep her in check. She wasn¡¯t real. It wasn¡¯t real. It couldn¡¯t think like her, or learn like her, it couldn¡¯t grow. A fixed entity, like a book. A talking book; one he only had limited access to.


    Something popped, painfully. It felt like there had been water in his ears that was draining away. His inner ear turned hot, and then sound flooded in.


    ¡°The medication has taken effect?¡± The voice was Bartlett¡¯s, but without the soft deference from before. Now it was all sharp and edged.


    ¡°Yes, sir. I mean, I think so. I¡¯m not sure.¡± Mallory sounded nervous, maybe even scared. Was he acting under duress? Perhaps he was being forced to do this against his will.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong with you, boy? Is he held in Mifune¡¯s embrace or not?¡±


    Mifune. Nic recalled the name from some text he¡¯d read a long time ago. A drug used in surgery? Arcanum-infused? He couldn¡¯t quite remember. If he¡¯d known obscure narcotics were going to play a part in his trip to the Royal College, he would have read up on the subject.


    ¡°Yes, yes¡­ it¡¯s just, I opened his eyes and¡­¡±


    ¡°And what?¡±


    ¡°He didn¡¯t look how he¡¯s supposed to. See for yourself.¡±


    There was a pause. Nic could feel the hesitation between them. It might have been imagined, though, Or he could have been borrowing Winnum¡¯s keen senses. He wondered what it was about his eyes that had thrown Mallory into such a tizz.


    ¡°We have to move him,¡± said Bartlett. ¡°Even if he isn¡¯t completely incapacitated, it is enough.¡±This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.


    ¡°Couldn¡¯t we give him a little more?¡± said Mallory. ¡°A sip?¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t want to kill him,¡± hissed Bartlett. Nic almost felt relief. At least his death wasn¡¯t part of it. Then again, there were worse things. ¡°We¡¯ll just have to take precautions.¡±


    What did that mean? Nic didn¡¯t have to wait long to find out. He felt something slip around his ankles. He could still feel, then, just not move. Was that a cause for comfort or concern?


    A loop of soft material passed over his left wrist, which was then dragged across his chest until it bumped into his right hand. The material was then wound around both wrists to bind them together.


    It was like they daren¡¯t touch him. Why not? What were they afraid of? He could hardly do them any harm in his condition. He probably wouldn¡¯t have been able to fight them off even if he¡¯d been undrugged.


    They feared something, that much was plain. There seemed to be only one thing that would elicit that kind of concern ¡ª they had to think he was in possession of a demon or something of equivalent power, like the demented spirit of an ex-Archmage.


    ¡°I definitely think you¡¯re their target,¡± he said to the deeper reaches of his mind. ¡°And they also seem to think you can do more than detect bugs at fifty paces.¡±


    ¡°Fifty paces would be stretching it,¡± said Winnum Roke.


    ¡°You can, can¡¯t you? Do more, I mean. You could release me.¡±


    ¡°But then how would you learn who was behind this? If you allow them to take you, they will lead you to their master, don¡¯t you think? Don¡¯t you want to know who is so interested in you this late at night?¡±


    She made it sound like a sordid affair, and also like she would enjoy having ringside seats. The pleasure she took in aggravating his fears was unnerving. Why did all the women in his life enjoy his discomfort so much? If he endured it, would it build character in the long-term? He doubted it very much.


    There was something about the way he behaved ¡ª his timidity or his docile nature ¡ª that invited unkind treatment, apparently. He would have to do something about it, if he ever got the chance.


    He also needed to stop waiting on others. Even if Winnum did have a way to untie his bonds and facilitate an escape, he shouldn¡¯t have to rely on her. He might not be a mage but he was still a healthy young man capable of putting up a fight when required. Unfortunately, telling himself that made no difference as a gag was tied around his mouth.


    His eyelid was again pulled up and Bartlett peered down at him from behind the light. ¡°Yes, I see what you mean.¡± The eyelid snapped shut and darkness enveloped him once more.


    ¡°Why is it like that?¡± said Mallory¡¯s voice from somewhere further back.


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid I have no idea. There is no point waiting. Let us get this over with.¡±


    Between them, they lifted Nic off the bed and manhandled him into a more secure position between them, one holding his feet, the other by his armpits.


    ¡°Ah,¡± huffed Mallory. ¡°He is heavier than he looks.¡±


    ¡°He is a bag of feathers,¡± said Bartlett. ¡°Strengthen your arms, Brother, and make light your work.¡±


    An awkward silence followed as Nic was carried from the room, swaying slightly from side to side.


    Weren¡¯t they worried they might be seen? It was late at night and everyone was either in bed or down in the courtyard keeping watch over the dying dragon, but carrying a body through the corridors of the Royal College was going to be hard to explain if they happened to cross paths with someone making a trip to the bathroom. Or was everyone in on it?


    Nic had no doubt these two weren¡¯t acting alone. If not the Archmage, then some other high-ranking person was behind this. Winnum was right that allowing himself to be taken was the best way to reveal who that person was. But such a discovery was only of real value if he was allowing it, rather than just surrendering himself.


    He pulled his senses back into himself, ignoring the footsteps and not counting the turns and corners, as though that would help him once he got free. First he had to regain control of his body.


    If Winnum could detect bed bugs, then so could he. She had shown him she could share her abilities with him when she heightened his hearing. She might not have the power of magic or the ability to use Arcanum the way a mage or demon could, but she still had a greater range of skills than he had. Knowledge gained while she had been isolated in the Demon Realm could still be applied here.


    Nic shut himself off from the outside world. His improved hearing dissolved into a warm silence. He wasn¡¯t being carried to some awful fate, he was floating. His mind, too, was floating, stuck in place but capable of motion, of reaching out and sensing his surroundings. Like an abrupt revelation, Nic¡¯s senses peeled back to see himself being carried through the dark passages of the College.


    He was trussed up like an animal. Feet and hands bound, mouth covered.


    The external awareness only lasted a second, and then it fell back into itself, settling into his body. Odours assaulted his nostrils ¡ª the damp brick, the sweat of his makeshift pallbearers, the whiff of parchment and paper. Sounds overwhelmed him ¡ª the swish of robes, the patter of footsteps, the minute creaks and groans of stone and wood. The lingering taste in his throat¡­ the drug coated his mouth, his tongue. He could trace it into his stomach, out into his blood, see the dancing particles within him. Not see, exactly. It was more like staring at a candle flame and then shutting your eyes. The imprint of light projected on the inside of his eyelids, a multitude of tiny lambent motes throughout his body.


    Ahhh. It was a soundless mental sigh of recognition.


    He focused on the pinpoints of white, a million stars in the sky, and tried to see them more clearly. The white dots grew brighter, and brighter. There was no wincing, no looking away, he wasn¡¯t using his eyes, but the whiteness was blinding. The change spread, faster and faster. And then they were gone..


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong with him, he¡¯s burning up,¡± said Mallory, panic rising in his voice. ¡°Is it a fever? Did I give him too much?¡±


    ¡°Keep going,¡± said Bartlett. ¡°It isn¡¯t much further. He¡¯ll be fine.¡±


    Nic tested touching his fingertips. He could move them. ¡°I did it!¡±


    ¡°Well done,¡± said Winnum, unable to keep the surprise out of her tone.


    ¡°How? Did I use magic?¡±


    ¡°No, you don¡¯t have that ability. We don¡¯t have that ability.¡±


    ¡°But¡­¡±


    ¡°Sometimes, shining a light is enough to send bugs scurrying away. You have learnt how to interfere with magic, which is a useful ability in its own right.¡±


    It hadn¡¯t felt like he had really done anything. He hadn¡¯t felt any kind of power go through him, no crackle of lightning. Just an intense focus and a great deal of heat in his face; something he was already quite used to, although usually for other reasons.


    ¡°What do you plan to do with your freedom?¡± inquired Winnum. She didn¡¯t sound so mocking now.


    Nic was still being carried, presumably towards the person who had arranged this. He could try to get free of his captors, but he was still tied up. If he stayed where he was ¡ª if he allowed them to take him ¡ª he could at least learn the identity of his enemy. But there was a big difference between being aware of a problem and being able to do something about it.


    Indecision was a mark of inexperience, he knew that. Every option had its good and bad point and, given enough time, Nic would probably be able to figure out the best course of action. But time was not something he had, and a swift decision followed up by the appropriate actions to whatever was thrown at him in response was how a person in his position should conduct themselves. Assuming the person in his position was someone who knew what to do and had the skills to back it up.


    He kept his eyes closed and tried to get his hands free without attracting attention. Hopefully, his carriers were too preoccupied to notice. They hadn¡¯t used rope to tie him up, just some kind of cloth or belt. He could almost squeeze his wrists out without having to untie anything, but he didn¡¯t want to make it too obvious so he gently twisted back and forth to loosen the knot.


    A door opened, shoved heavily probably by a shoulder. He heard it close as he was lowered onto a hard surface. Not a bed, which was a good thing. Not the floor, either. A table? An altar?


    ¡°Stay here,¡± said Bartlett. The door opened and shut again.


    Nic tried to come to some sort of decision. Now was the time to act, while Mallory was alone. Or should he wait? It felt like his own indecisiveness was his greatest enemy.


    ¡°I know you can¡¯t hear me,¡± whispered Mallory, his mouth close to Nic¡¯s ear, his fingers loosening the knot around Nic¡¯s wrists, ¡°but I¡¯m sorry about all of this. It isn¡¯t personal. I¡ª¡±


    Nic¡¯s hands were free. For once, he acted without deliberation. He threw himself towards the voice. He landed on top of Mallory who collapsed under him. Too surprised to defend himself, Nic had managed to get on top of Mallory and pin him to the floor. He raised his fist to strike the older boy in the face.


    Mallory looked terrified.


    Nic had been trained, somewhat. He had exercised, he had steeled himself to be more active, and here he was, in a dominating position. He hesitated. Despite his best efforts, he still lacked the determination to hurt others, even his enemies. Did that make him compassionate or cowardly? He was sure of one thing, he wasn¡¯t a soldier, he was a child.


    ¡°Why?¡± Nic said pulling the gag away from his mouth, his forearm pressed against Mallory¡¯s windpipe, preventing him from answering.


    Mallory¡¯s eyes rolled up in their sockets. For a moment, Nic thought he was about to pass out, and then he realised he was looking behind him. Nic¡¯s gaze followed in the same direction, and realised they weren¡¯t alone in the dimly lit room. Not even close to alone.


    There were at least six figures, robed and masked, standing on the other side of the table Nic had been lying on. Nic released Mallory and stumbled backwards onto his backside, his feet still bound together. The door was behind him, if he could make it outside, perhaps¡­


    But the door opened and Bartlett stood there. Nic was surrounded and his exit blocked.


    ¡°What do you want?¡± he managed to squeak out through the gaps in his frustrations with himself.


    ¡°His eyes,¡± said one of the masked figures.


    ¡°It is him,¡± said another. They were female voices.


    ¡°We are the followers of Winnum Roke,¡± said a woman, pulling down her mask to reveal a matronly face. ¡°You are here because you were always meant to be here. We¡¯ve waited a long time for you. We mean you no harm.¡±


    No one moved towards him. They were waiting for him to do¡­ something.


    Was she one of the few female mages? Nic looked around at the others. They weren¡¯t all women, but most of them were. They couldn¡¯t all be mages, the Royal College didn¡¯t allow more than two or three females at a time.


    Nic yanked off the bindings around his ankles and got to his feet, stamping to get the feeling back. The table he had been placed on was thin and long. Beside it was a trolley with metal instruments for cutting. Surgical instruments. He scanned the group in front of him. Their robes were gowns, their masks¡­ it was an operating table.


    Panic that he had avoided until now welled up. They were going to cut her out of him. Followers of Winnum Roke they might be. Friends of Nic Tutt they most certainly were not.


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± he said to the woman who was apparently the leader of the group. ¡°You were expecting me?¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± she said. ¡°She told us you would come. We didn¡¯t think it would take so long, but we never lost faith.¡±


    They were a cult of some kind, followers of a prophecy. Were they really so gullible?


    Clairvoyance was an easy thing to fake if you happened to be able to live for a thousand years. Tell people what was going to happen, then come back in a millennium or so and make it happen yourself. Everyone thinks they¡¯ve witnessed a miracle.


    ¡°You did this,¡± he said to himself. ¡°You tricked them.¡±


    ¡°It was no trick. I told them to wait for my return, and here I am.¡±


    Nic looked at the table. It was clean with no blood stains. They hadn¡¯t been practising, which meant he¡¯d be their first attempt. The thought offered him no consolation. A steady hand would be less painful.


    ¡°You¡¯re wrong,¡± said Nic to the assembled crowd. ¡°She didn¡¯t send me.¡±


    ¡°Your eyes,¡± said the woman. ¡°She told us you would have the flaming eyes.¡±


    He didn¡¯t know how his eyes looked, but another easy trick to pull off. Tell them to expect a sign, and then create the sign you predicted. Winnum might not be able to control him or use magic, but she could manipulate small things, like the colour of his eyes.


    ¡°You¡¯re using these people. How is that different to what the demons would do?¡± he asked her.


    ¡°Who do you think I learned it from?¡± said the voice of Winnum Roke.


    She had no interest in being a moral superior to the demons, just a replacement, and he was just a vessel. One they intended to empty.

 Book 2: Chapter Nine

    Nic was crouched, huffing. His struggle with Mallory was meant to have led to his escape. A risky venture he had accepted and thrown himself into with desperate enthusiasm. He would cast off his bonds, strike down his captor, and force his way to freedom. That¡¯s how it would happen in a book.


    Instead, he was cornered and there wasn¡¯t even the hope of getting out of this room, let alone reaching safety. He blamed Dizzy.


    He had no fighting skills, no moves to defeat even these opponents ¡ª women, old men, a boy whose arms could be snapped like twigs. She had told him he first needed to get stronger. Learn to breathe while he moved. Nic glanced at the gleaming instruments on the trolly. He wouldn¡¯t be doing either fairly soon.


    ¡°There¡¯s no need to be afraid,¡± said the woman, her hands held out in an effort to calm him. ¡°You will soon be free and can return to your normal life, unburdened and unharmed. I promise you.¡±


    One of the instruments was a bone saw; Nic had seen a picture in a book. Her promise to leave him unharmed was a hard one to believe.


    His eyes darted around, searching for a way out. Six people around the woman, two of them holding lanterns at just the right height to make their faces eerie and unidentifiable. Another at the door, and Mallory sitting on the floor gasping for breath.


    There were more of them than him. They could easily rush him and force him to do as they wanted. It was a long room with deep shadows. Was there another door at the other end? It was too dim to make out. There were beds, quite a few of them, and curtains separating them. The college infirmary?


    ¡°You did this,¡± he said in his thoughts, but loudly. ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°A contingency, if I needed one,¡± said Winnum Roke. ¡°I¡¯d all but forgotten.¡±


    ¡°You had this planned from the start? How long have you been preparing me? My whole life?¡±


    ¡°Nothing quite so laborious.¡±


    ¡°But you needed me to go to Ransom. How could you be sure without engineering my infatuation.¡±


    ¡°You mean the girl?¡± Winnum sounded mildly amused. ¡°You are overthinking the situation. If you were the only candidate, then perhaps such complex manoeuvrings would be called for.¡±


    There had been others? Even his selection was nothing special. He had been one among many. He was just the one who¡¯d got there first.


    ¡°They mean to cut you out,¡± he said, trying to appeal to her sense of self-preservation.


    ¡°I would have thought you¡¯d be pleased to get rid of me. To be honest, I¡¯d quite like to see how they do it. I assume techniques have advanced while I¡¯ve been away.¡±


    This was hardly the time for professional curiosity between the homicidal and the insane, even if it was a startling proposition. How do you surgically remove a thought process? And where do you put it once you get it out?


    They didn¡¯t look like they planned to attack. Did they need him alive? Did they think he might be injured in a fight? If his life was what they considered precious, perhaps he should grab a scalpel from the tray and hold it to his own neck. Not many people would consider taking themselves hostage, but then it wouldn¡¯t really be himself he¡¯d be threatening to kill.


    The concern these masked and gowned people seemed to have for him was bordering on fear. Not fear for him, but fear of him. What did they have to fear? He remembered Mallory speaking of his eyes, how they had flames in them. An awful thought occurred to him. What if they wanted to cut out his eyes?


    ¡°You did something to my eyes,¡± he said internally.


    ¡°I thought it best to fulfil the prophecy. They might doubt you, otherwise.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m fine with people doubting me. It¡¯s comfortingly familiar. Change them back.¡±


    ¡°Please,¡± said the woman, her countenance softening and her lips forming a hopeful smile, ¡°this is a matter of great importance. We want to help you. Let us help you.¡±


    Her words were kindly and sincere. It would be very easy to believe her, to aid her in whatever mission she was on. It sounded of paramount importance. She had a regal nature to her, the air of someone you would follow into battle. She spoke calmly but with a great deal of insistence. Urgency, but not out of desperation. Out of virtue.


    Nic had read about charismatic leaders who had rallied whole nations through dint of their personality. He had read their speeches and had not felt any compulsion to agree with their point of view. Words on a page didn¡¯t capture the magic they possessed in person, he had assumed.


    This lady with her beatific smile gave him an idea of what it must have been like to be in the presence of magnetic individuals. She spoke so earnestly, it was impossible to doubt her. So powerfully that no one felt it necessary to use violence to subdue him. The eyes watching him were all convinced he would simply succumb to reason.


    ¡°Listen to me,¡± she said, instantly fixing his attention to her words, ¡°you carry a presence within you, like a cloak around your heart. You must have felt it, a despair in your core you couldn¡¯t explain. If it isn¡¯t removed it will kill you.¡±


    She wanted to help him, ease his burden, save him from a terrible fate. All these ideas seemed to come to him unbidden. They came, but they were turned away. Nic had an acute understanding of what he carried within him. He thought it highly likely Winnum Roke would get him killed, put him in harm¡¯s way for certain, but she was no tumour devouring his organs.


    But the woman¡¯s belief in her own words was absolute. The people around her also emanated nothing but certainty. Nic found it off-putting. Blind faith was a powerful thing, but also a dangerous one. Conjecture and speculation were useful at the start of a journey, not at the end.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what you want from me,¡± said Nic, doing his best to keep his voice calm. ¡°I know what¡¯s inside me, I¡¯m the one who put it there.¡±


    ¡°You¡­¡± The woman reacted with a start. ¡°You put it there? I¡­ I don¡¯t think you understand. We have to take it out. It isn¡¯t good for you.¡±


    She could be right. Perhaps he was the one who didn¡¯t understand. It wouldn¡¯t be the first time he¡¯d been misled by people more knowledgeable and more cunning than him. Doubting oneself was part of the learning process, but doubting others was just as important. One thing he didn¡¯t doubt, though, was that he didn¡¯t want to be cut open.


    Nic rose from the animal-like crouch he had adopted. Whatever danger these people posed to him, they weren¡¯t going to attack him at the moment. And if they did, there wasn¡¯t going to be much he could do about it. He was one person in a nightshirt. His defensive options were very limited.


    ¡°Who are you?¡± he said, deeming it time to move the conversation away from talk of surgical matters. ¡°What do you want?¡±


    ¡°We want to help you,¡± said the woman without pause for thought. She spoke like a fanatic, her stock answers suitable for all occasions. She reminded him of the man from Gweur, driven and utterly loyal to his demon queen. Could these people be under the influence of a demon? He sensed no magical power from them, no excess of Arcanum leaking out of them, but they might just be better at controlling it.


    ¡°No, I mean what do you want. Winnum Roke wouldn¡¯t ask you to cut me open. If she wanted something removed from my body, she would just reach in and take it out. But you¡­¡± He looked at the instruments again, sharp and jagged and gleaming with sharpened purpose. ¡°You think you can extract a presence with a knife?¡±


    ¡°No, no, no,¡± said the woman, her face opening with the beginnings of understanding. He had misunderstood their intentions. Jumped to the wrong conclusion and assumed the worst. This could be instantly cleared up with a simple explanation. Nic saw all this in her pitying eyes, feeling sorry for the mistake he had made. ¡°I am Doctor Wylian, the college physician. Sometimes I have to remove a rotten tooth or see to a broken limb. These aren¡¯t for you.¡± She pointed at the surgical tray full of sharp objects.


    A mixture of relief and disbelief ran through him. If they didn¡¯t plan to slice him open that could be nothing but a good thing. Assuming she wasn¡¯t lying, which her actions so far had done nothing to support.


    But her ability to portray her and her group of oddball acolytes as some kind of force for good was patently ridiculous.


    ¡°You drugged me with a sedative used during surgery,¡± he pointed out, ¡°and then you had me carried here against my will in the middle of the night.¡±


    The woman nodded with a single hand held up now, as though she could see his mistake and he had no need to say anything more. She understood how he had got it wrong, how he had drawn the wrong conclusion, how he was in need of the correct information.


    ¡°I admit, our methods were crude and for that, I apologise. It was not out of disregard for you, but because we are surrounded here by forces that must not learn of our existence. They would not react kindly if they knew of our goals. And if they knew what it is you are truly here for, your life would be in danger. My oath is to never hurt anyone, the same as my colleague Dr Gilleshpie. You know her, don¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°The school doctor? You know her?¡±


    ¡°Of course. She¡¯s a good friend.¡±


    Nic found this news unsettling. ¡°She¡¯s one of you?¡±


    ¡°Please, you¡¯re making us sound like some kind of cult.¡±


    ¡°You aren¡¯t?¡± said Nic. ¡°You¡¯re following orders left by a woman who died a thousand years ago.¡±


    ¡°Not following orders. We only want to remove the danger to you and put it somewhere safe and out of the way where it can do no harm.¡±


    From somewhere deep within him, Nic clearly heard a confused, ¡°Eh?¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t want to fulfil her prophecy?¡± asked Nic, also somewhat confused.


    ¡°Winnum Roke was an outstanding mage but not a uniter of people. And not really the greatest role model, as none of the truly great mages were. Ego is so hard to contain when you have limitless power at your fingertips. She forced the mages of her time to make her Archmage, it would be surprising if they weren¡¯t resentful.¡±


    ¡°I was the most qualified!¡± said Winnum Roke in Nic¡¯s ear. ¡°Convincing is not forcing. I can¡¯t believe she¡¯s taking their side. Who is this viper? Was she there? Was she?¡±


    Nic almost blurted out the question, but managed to keep his jaws locked together.


    ¡°We are all educated people,¡± said Dr Wylian. ¡°We wouldn¡¯t blindly follow a woman who had no idea how the world would change in her absence.¡±


    ¡°But you said you were her followers,¡± said Nic. ¡°Followers follow, don¡¯t they?¡±


    ¡°We follow through the doors she opened, continue her research as best we can. But we decide our own fate.¡±


    ¡°How could my legacy become so diluted,¡± said a demoralised Winnum. ¡°I had such plans¡­¡±


    ¡°But you believed the prophecy?¡± Nic was still wary of these people. They claimed to be reasonable and rational, but at the same time, they were engaged in an act of sheer absurdity. Kidnapping him by order of some ancient forecast.


    ¡°We believed in her talent. She was undeniably a magnificent mage. If she claimed to be able to return in the guise of a child, who are we to gainsay her? She gave us so much, built so much of what we are surrounded by and take for granted, the least we can do is take her into our care and allow her to spend her dotage in a safe place among those who respect and admire what she once was.¡±


    ¡°She thinks I¡¯m senile,¡± said Winnum.


    ¡°You are over a thousand years old,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°Sorry?¡± said Dr Wylian.


    Nic realised he had spoken aloud. ¡°No, I was talking to Winnum. She isn¡¯t very happy with your assessment of her mental faculties. I think she might excommunicate you from the cult.¡±


    ¡°You can speak to her?¡±


    ¡°Yes. She¡¯s in my head. I can hear her think.¡±


    There was some reaction to this news. Apparently, they hadn¡¯t considered the possibility that Winnum Roke would return compos mentis.This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.


    ¡°Spirit cannot survive without flesh to sustain it,¡± said Dr Wylian. ¡°You will be consumed if you do not allow us to separate you.¡±


    She wanted to help free him, he believed that. The way she radiated hope made it hard to think of her as anything but selfless. Or a very good actor. He was inclined to believe it was the former, but even then that was no guarantee of the outcome.


    Nic stood awkwardly in the midst of her ugly good intentions, unsure what to say. He experienced a terrible sense of isolation creeping through him, unable to reach out for help from without or within, trapped in the middle with only his own counsel. And how reliable was that? He was the pivot at the centre where the whole structure turned.


    He frowned. He was doing it again, claiming a grandiose description for his role when he was just the box the valuable item came in. He was luggage.


    ¡°Explain to me how you would remove her?¡± he said.


    Dr Wylian visibly relaxed, her shoulders lowering and her head lifting into a smile. ¡°Good. I will be open with you, I will answer whatever you want to know, I will tell you the truth, but we must hurry. Let us prepare as we speak. Come, this way.¡± She took a small step to the side, the sway of her arms urging him to join her.


    ¡°No,¡± said a voice in Nic¡¯s mind.


    Nic wanted to go with this woman. She wasn¡¯t using magic on him, but there was a compulsion in her voice that was not dissimilar. He had been compelled by others before, the feeling was the same. He didn¡¯t move.


    ¡°She is your descendant,¡± he said to Winnum. ¡°She acts in your name.¡±


    ¡°Then I am disappointed. The young never live up to your expectations.¡±


    He was tempted to go with the doctor just to rile his passenger. Nic straightened, squared his shoulders.


    ¡°I won¡¯t go anywhere with you,¡± he said. ¡°You promise to explain everything, but you tell me nothing. If you want my assistance, tell me what you plan to do.¡±


    There was a slight hesitation, a calculation of how much time there was, perhaps.


    ¡°Very well, I suppose it¡¯s better to waste a little time if it means you will be cooperative. I mean to remove the presence in your mind using the methods we¡¯ve developed here to help those mages who do not react well to their first assimilation with Arcanum. Some are naturally compatible, others less so and require help. In the most severe cases, it is possible to reverse the process and flush the body. It is a last resort, but it is possible.¡±


    She was talking about the process of merging mages with demons. It was fusing Arcanum with the host body, but it was more than that. The doctor was only referring to Arcanum because she either did not know the truth, or her cohorts didn¡¯t and she wanted to keep it that way.


    But the idea that some recipients might not react well to the process seemed reasonable. Developing some sort of elixir to smooth the process was not so farfetched.


    ¡°She¡¯s lying,¡± said Winnum Roke. ¡°No such procedure exists.¡±


    ¡°She says you¡¯re lying,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°From her perspective it might seem that way,¡± said the doctor. ¡°We have made some advancements in the last thousand years.¡±


    There was no counter from Winnum. She had suggested the same thing herself.


    ¡°We would inject you with a small dose ¡ª I won¡¯t try to deceive you, it may be painful, we don¡¯t really know how it will affect this particular combination ¡ª and then move it to a new host.¡±


    ¡°What new host?¡± asked Nic. ¡°Where will you put it?¡±


    ¡°In the High Father,¡± said Doctor Wylian. ¡°Not while he lives, that would be disastrous. But the moment he is forced to leave, the corpse will become a valid host.¡±


    ¡°You want her in control of a dragon?¡± said Nic. If the idea was to not follow the agenda set by a volatile and unstable dead mage, giving her free rein inside a giant flying lizard seemed an unwise move.


    Even more surprisingly, Winnum Roke was against it, too.


    ¡°No!¡± said Winnum. ¡°You mustn¡¯t let this happen.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t want to be inside the mightiest dragon in the kingdom?¡± The idea seemed far preferable to being stuck in a boy of below average fitness.


    ¡°If I could control the body I was in, wouldn¡¯t I already have taken over yours?¡±


    ¡°She won¡¯t have control,¡± said Dr Wylian, answering the same point without needing to be asked. ¡°That¡¯s the beauty of it. She will keep the dragon alive but be unable to do anything else. She will be held prisoner indefinitely. It¡¯s the only safe place to put her.¡±


    ¡°Lies, all lies,¡± said Winnum. ¡°Understand this, Nicolav. The only way to put me inside the High Father¡¯s corpse is for him to eat you. And you have to be alive when he does it.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve seen the dragons eat a dead mage to reclaim the demon inside. They weren¡¯t eaten alive. And how would the High Father be able to eat me if she only wants to put you in him after he¡¯s dead?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s different with mages, the demons become one with the flesh. You and I are linked through our minds. If you die, so do I. And the High Father doesn¡¯t have to be alive to consume you, just recently deceased. Placing you inside his stomach is all it would take. A skilled surgeon could do it. Not all of you, just the head would be enough.¡±


    Nic felt his throat tighten. ¡°You said I would have to be alive. I¡¯m pretty sure decapitation would stop that.¡±


    ¡°There are ways to keep a head alive after removal,¡± said Winnum.


    Nic looked at the bone saw and found it hard to breathe.


    ¡°Trust me, Nic,¡± said Dr Wylian. ¡°I can rid you of her for good. Once she is held inside the High Father¡¯s corpse, she won¡¯t be able to cause any trouble. It¡¯s for the best.¡±


    What good would it do her to have Winnum Roke captive? Simply locking her away seemed an overly complicated solution, there had to be more to it than that. And he very much doubted the process would be as simple as giving him a shot in the arm. You didn¡¯t wear gowns over your clothes to give an injection, you wore them to protect from blood splatter.


    ¡°Can you get us out of here?¡± he asked Winnum.


    ¡°I think so. There should be a door behind that curtain.¡±


    She hadn¡¯t been very helpful until her acolytes had turned out not to be the faithful followers she had expected, but that was okay. It meant her suggestions could be trusted, this time.


    Nic took a long, thoughtful, silent inhalation through his nose, and then bolted for the curtain. He was quick enough to catch them on the back foot and made it behind the curtain where there was a blank wall and no door.


    ¡°Where is it?¡± bellowed Winnum, as surprised as Nic. ¡°It should be here.¡±


    A thousand years was a long time in terms of building renovations, and also in the reliability of memories.


    ¡°You must have misremembered,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°My memory is flawless,¡± insisted Winnum.


    The curtains were pulled apart as they came for him, not with any particular urgency. They were probably wondering why he had made a dash for a corner of the room with no exit.


    The lights extinguished as though a breeze had blown them out, though there had been no breeze, plunging all into darkness.


    ¡°Was that you?¡± said Nic.


    ¡°No,¡± said Winnum, irritated that he would need to ask after she had made it clear she was unable to perform such feats of magic.


    The darkness caused confusion. It was as good an opportunity as he was likely to get. Nic ran around the other side of the curtain and could see nothing. And then he could see everything in shades of grey.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± he thought, and slid under the bed next to him. The floor was polished and he glided out the other side silently.


    The improved sight Winnum had given him allowed him to see where they all were, white shapes in the darkness. His hand touched something sitting under the bed and he grabbed it. Most likely a bedpan, his night sight not so helpful with an unfamiliar object. He tossed it across the room where it clattered against something. It was enough to draw their attention.


    ¡°Don¡¯t hurt him,¡± cried out the doctor as they rushed across the room. It would have been a reassuring thing to hear if it didn¡¯t conjure up visions of his own disembodied head blinking in a glass jar.


    Nic waited for them to pass and slid across the floor as quietly as he could. The door would be a problem but it was the only way out, unless he wanted to try smashing through a window and hoping for the best.


    The door sprang open as he approached.


    ¡°Hurry,¡± said Mallory. ¡°This way.¡±


    Nic had no time to consider the wisdom of taking aid from his treacherous ex-roommate. He dived through the door as calls went up for him to stop.


    Mallory pulled the door shut and ran, expecting to be followed and not waiting to make a persuasive case for the idea.


    Nic had no idea where he was. He could go the other way and rely on Winnum¡¯s dubious memories of her old residence, or trust in Mallory¡¯s apparent change of heart. Neither was a very attractive option.


    He raced after Mallory. The passage was dark and the rooms they passes showed no signs of life. His eyesight was still enhanced, as was his hearing. All he could make out was Mallory running ahead and the sounds of pursuit from behind.


    ¡°Here, here,¡± said Mallory holding open a door. A trap, another dead end, it was hard to say, but he¡¯d made his choice, might as well see it through.


    Mallory pulled the door closed, gently easing it shut to avoid making noise. The two boys waited, breathing shallowly to avoid making noise. Footsteps thundered past. They waited for them to subside.


    ¡°Why are you helping me now?¡± whispered Nic.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± said Mallory. ¡°I know it was wrong, especially after you helped me back in Ransom.¡± He sounded guilt-stricken.


    They waited, listening.


    ¡°Shouldn¡¯t we try to get out?¡± asked Nic.


    He saw Mallory shake his head in the pitch black darkness. ¡°This part of the college is empty at night. Only their people are here, right now. We won¡¯t make it out of the main entrance.¡±


    ¡°What do we do? Wait until morning?¡±


    ¡°We could,¡± said Mallory. ¡°They¡¯ll probably start searching the rooms. They¡¯ll find us eventually.¡±


    As escape plans went, this wasn¡¯t a very well-thought-out one.


    ¡°Why did you do it?¡± said Nic. ¡°Why help them?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± said Mallory again. The repeated apologies with no explanation were beginning to grate. ¡°You don¡¯t know what it¡¯s like to be kept on the sidelines, not good enough to participate.¡±


    ¡°I know exactly what it¡¯s like,¡± said Nic, offended at the suggestion.


    ¡°No, you don¡¯t,¡± said Mallory. ¡°You might not be able to see it, but trust me, everyone else can. Being around you isn¡¯t normal. Inattentive people would only think that. Even the mages aren¡¯t like you, the way you accept things and move on, seeing how to overcome, how to go around, whatever it is. That isn¡¯t normal. Most people just freeze or panic or find themselves unable to process what¡¯s happening to them.¡±


    Nic had never heard himself described in that way. Even if it was true, was it really anything special?


    ¡°But how did you get involved with her?¡± said Nic. He could see no benefit to Mallory¡¯s association with the mad doctor.


    ¡°She¡­ showed me something. A way to use magic that wasn¡¯t magic, wasn¡¯t to do with Arcanum. I can¡¯t really explain it or show you. I¡­ broke through to another plane, just for a few moments. But it was a revelation. It was what I had been straining for all this time and nothing I can say can describe it. It was like nothing I¡¯d imagined.¡±


    There was wonder and awe in his voice. Nic could understand the temptation only too well. An alternative to Arcanum, one not withheld from him. His desperate choices weren¡¯t hard to imagine.


    ¡°And now?¡± said Nic. ¡°You¡¯re no longer interested?¡±


    ¡°Not at this price. She wasn¡¯t going to inject you with anything. I only saw them prepare scalpel and blade. I¡­ I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± said Nic. ¡°I understand.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re too soft,¡± said Winnum, and she was probably right.


    Nic looked around the small storeroom they were in. A closet, really. The shelves had boxes on them, covered in dust judging from a quick swipe with his fingertips.


    ¡°There¡¯s a window,¡± said Nic, pointing at a square on the wall. It was blacked out like it had been coated in paint.


    ¡°You can see?¡±


    ¡°A little. Help me open it.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re four floors up,¡± said Mallory.


    ¡°Help me,¡± said Nic.


    They struggled to slide the window up, hampered by the jammed tracks and also by their desire to not make exposing sounds.


    They managed it, the window groaning and stuttering, making far too much noise. Nic put his head into the cold night air and saw how far up they were. But the walls had plenty of handholds, and this was something he had been trained for, in a limited fashion. He began climbing out.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± whispered Mallory hoarsely. ¡°You¡¯ll fall to your death.¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t live for long up here, either,¡± said Nic as he hung from the windowsill, facing his remorseful kidnapper. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ve had expert tuition.¡± His hand slipped and he fell away from the wall.


    Mallory grabbed him by the nightshirt and pulled him back. Nic grabbed onto the sill again.


    ¡°Thanks. I¡¯m fine, you can let go.¡±


    Malory released the shirt clenched in his fist. ¡°Are you sure?¡±


    Nic nodded. ¡°It¡¯ll be fine. Thanks.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll do what I can to distract them. I¡­ I¡¯m sorry.¡± This time, the repeated apology wasn¡¯t so irksome.


    Nic nodded and began making his way down. He heard the window close above him. Now there was nowhere to go but down.


    It was more exhausting climbing up, but at least you could see where to go. Climbing down was tricky if you didn¡¯t know where to put your hands. Looking down was a restricted view. His improved eyesight helped a little.


    ¡°This could go very badly,¡± said Winnum.


    ¡°Not helping,¡± answered Nic.


    His hands felt sweaty. His feet slipped a number of times, but his fingers seemed to hold. It was painful but the dread of what was waiting for him if he failed to get away was enough to draw unexpected reserves of strength from him. He would be sore in the morning, or a severed head.


    He managed to get down to one storey above the ground and his hands gave out. He fell onto a grass border, his ankles buckling, and then rolled as Dizzy had shown him.


    Once he was back on his feet, he moved gingerly to make sure he hadn¡¯t twisted anything, and then broke into a run. He had no idea where he was, with only high walls around him. He followed a path around the building, doing his best to keep to the side where the shrubbery might hide him, wary of being spotted. Hopefully, they wouldn¡¯t think he was already outside.


    ¡°The main courtyard is to the left,¡± said Winnum. ¡°The dorms to the right, if they haven¡¯t changed that, too.¡±


    Nic paused for a second, and then went left


    ¡°Where are you going?¡± said Winnum.


    ¡°I want to check something.¡±


    He reached the gateway to the courtyard and stopped. The High Father was lying in the same place as before, utterly still. A small group of mages kept watch. How could he approach with them there?


    A loud explosion rang out. Nic turned to look in the direction he¡¯d come. Flames were shooting into the air. Mallory¡¯s idea of a distraction?


    The mages scattered, running to help, or away from danger, it was impossible to say. Nic waited in the shadow of the archway until the courtyard was empty and then ran to the dragon. He wouldn¡¯t have long.


    ¡°What do you think you¡¯re doing?¡± said Winnum.


    ¡°Just wait,¡± said Nic. He slowed as he approached the dragon. ¡°Hey, wake up. I know you can hear me.¡±


    The High Father¡¯s eyelid rose slowly. Nic placed a hand on the dragon¡¯s snout.


    ¡°I want you to let me in,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°Are you insane?¡± blurted out Winnum. ¡°You want him to eat you?¡±


    ¡°You can enter a dragon in spirit form,¡± said Nic. ¡°I¡¯ve done it before.¡±


    ¡°Only if the dragon is vacant. And if both parties are willing.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s willing,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°He will overwhelm us both. I am not willing.¡±


    ¡°But I am and you don¡¯t get a say.¡± Nic¡¯s body fell to the ground and lay next to the dragon, still and empty.

 Book 2: Chapter Ten

    Despite the late hour, Prince Ranade did not feel particularly tired. On the contrary, he was quite chipper, pleased to have been roused at such an anti-social time ¡ª a time when his wife was fast asleep and unable to dictate his routine. Herbal teas were her new obsession. Which would be of no concern to him if instead of forcing him to change his perfectly adequate imbibing habits, she had inflicted the tepid tasteless beverages on herself (although she probably did that, too ¡ª and convinced herself she enjoyed them).


    A boon to the digestive system, apparently. Although, she would have to allow him digestible food first.


    Coffee was out, tea was frowned upon. Alcohol was considered a treat for special occasions, and watered down to barely present.


    A ruler of a nation, a commander of vast armies, and a hostage to emotional blackmail, such was the life of a prince of Ranvar.


    Guards in polished armour stood stiffly to attention all the way down the long corridor. No doubt, they could eat and drink what they pleased.


    ¡°Monforth,¡± he said to the elderly man gliding across the thick red carpet alongside him, ¡°I take it this midnight gathering will concern some threat or other?¡±


    Monforth, carrying files and papers which he constantly shuffled to check and confirm whatever it was his prince asked, bowed his bald head just enough to suggest a nod. ¡°Indeed, sire.¡±


    ¡°A loss of life?¡± asked the Prince, carefully building up to the more worrisome question.


    ¡°I believe so, sire.¡±


    ¡°Ranvarian casualties?¡±


    ¡°No, sire, not that I¡¯m aware of.¡±


    ¡°Good, good. That¡¯s something.¡± The Prince let out a loud breath. ¡°I expect this will be quite a taxing session of the joint heads.¡±


    ¡°I imagine so, sire.¡±


    ¡°Have some strong coffee brought up.¡± He made it sound as casual and unimportant as was humanly possible. ¡°I think this calls for something to keep us alert and focused, don¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Absolutely, sire. I believe the Princess has left standing orders for her special brew to be used for occasions such as this.¡±


    The Prince stopped, an innate sense of self-preservation warning him he was about to walk into a trap. ¡°Special brew? Of coffee? Coffee is coffee. What¡¯s so special about this brew? She has her own coffee now?¡±


    ¡°Yes, sire. Her Royal Highness has found a very talented coffee artisan who produces a very, erm, unique blend. The Princess considers it the ideal, erm, refreshment for meetings such as this.¡±


    The polite emphasis on certain words to make them more palatable did not escape the Prince¡¯s attention. Monforth was a diplomat at heart, so he could be relied upon to obfuscate the truth whenever possible.


    The Prince resumed walking. ¡°And it¡¯s made of actual coffee?¡±


    ¡°I believe it is made from the most expensive bean available, which are required to undergo a process which is called decaffeination.¡±


    ¡°Is that kind of language necessary, Monforth?¡±


    ¡°I apologise, sire. I believe it means the stimulant is removed from the end product.¡±


    ¡°The stimulant? Removed? Why would anyone want to drink it, then?¡±


    ¡°For the taste, sire?¡± suggested Monforth.


    The Prince scowled. ¡°The woman¡¯s a monster. And you¡¯re sure we can¡¯t have her locked in a tower or something.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid it¡¯s still considered unconstitutional. The research you commissioned has revealed no loopholes. Divorce is your only real recourse, and I fear that would only provoke Her Royal Highness.¡±


    ¡°Yes, that would only lead to disaster. At least now she is only trying to keep me healthy, misguided as her methods may be. Imagine if she actually wished to do me harm.¡± He shuddered and reminded himself that it was a regent¡¯s role in life to suffer for his people..


    Two guards positioned either side of the double-doors ahead opened one door each. The Prince walked into a large room with a long table. There were five men seated around it, arguing. Since they were all facing the other direction, none of them noticed his arrival, which had been silent.


    The servants all noticed his appearance in the doorway, of course, and stood erect and motionless, eyes fixedly staring at nothing, which would normally alert the others in the room, but in this case, they were all too engrossed in a discussion about the Ransom school.


    Monforth took a step forward to let them know the Prince was in attendance, most likely with a small cough. The Prince stopped him with a raise of his hands and listened to his most trusted counsel in bemused silence.


    ¡°The boy is the key.¡±


    ¡°The boy is a child. The matter is resolved.¡±


    ¡°Surely you jest. Resolved? Have you no inkling of what is to come?¡±


    ¡°What is to come?¡±


    ¡°I have no idea. But it¡¯s coming, I assure you of that.¡±


    ¡°If we continue to treat every shadow as a gateway for demons, it isn¡¯t the demons who will overcome us, it will be our own stupidity.¡±


    It felt like this argument had been going on for some time now. It was energetic and vehement, but in tones of disdainful politeness that suggested no one was open to be proved wrong about their firmly held views.


    ¡°Gentlemen,¡± said one of them, standing up and looking to the door.


    The others immediately rose and turned to face the prince. In unison, as though they had practised it, they bowed from the shoulder, formal and obedient, greeting him with, ¡°Your Majesty.¡±


    There was also a side table with a large urn on it and a young serving boy next to it, smartly dressed in the palace livery, bowing low but keeping quiet, waiting to pour hot beverages as called upon. The Prince gave the large silver urn a suspicious look. The boy took this as an indication of the Prince¡¯s desire to be served a drink and moved to pick up a porcelain cup.


    The Prince waved him off. He wouldn¡¯t be drinking any of that filth. The thought of it was enough to make him want to decaffeinate right there and then.


    ¡°Gentlemen,¡± said the Prince as he sat at the head of the table. ¡°I take it there¡¯s some urgent matter that can¡¯t wait until the morning.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Your Majesty,¡± said Foreign Minister Kuplas, ¡°I¡¯m afraid so. It¡¯s Gweur.¡±


    ¡°What have they done now?¡± the Prince demanded. ¡°More rogue mages?¡±


    Kuplas shook his thin, angular head, and then sat up and pulled down his jacket where the lapels met. ¡°No, sire, although there may be a connection. We learned earlier this evening of a coup. The government has fallen ¡ª the government that viewed our special relationship as a favourable one ¡ª has been replaced by a group that is rather more ambivalent towards Ranvar.¡±


    ¡°You mean they think we¡¯re tyrants who need to be ejected from every corner of Gweurian soil,¡± said the Prince.


    ¡°Yes, sire, I think that would be the sum of it,¡± said Kuplas.


    ¡°And these upstarts, they have some affiliation to the religious zealots we¡¯ve been chasing around the Gweurian countryside?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry to say it isn¡¯t very clear.¡± Kuplas looked pained. He pinched the bridge of his long nose. ¡°If I were to guess, then I would say there is a connection, but exactly what¡­¡± He looked across the table at the masked figure of the Secret Service¡¯s Chief of Staff. ¡°Chief?¡±


    The Chief¡¯s large shoulders rose as his chest filled with air. Then sank again. ¡°We suspect they are in some kind of alliance together, the leadership of the cult and the leadership of the new ruling party, but there¡¯s been no direct contact between them.¡±


    ¡°As far as you know,¡± said Reshvay, Minister for War. His tone was dismissive and carried no small amount of accusation in it.


    The Secret Service was meant to have rounded up the conspirators by now, extracted an explanation of how they were able to acquire raw Arcanum and, more to the point, who taught them (rather crudely) how to use it. Once the head had been cut off, the rest should have fallen into despair and despondency. That had not been the case.


    ¡°We have kept the zealots contained,¡± said the chief. ¡°There has been no activity for several weeks. There was no sign there would be anything like this. If it was a joint venture ¡ª and there¡¯s nothing to prove it was ¡ª the zealots did not participate. No magic was used.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said Kuplas. ¡°No magic, but plenty of sharp blades. The incumbents ¡ª all carefully selected for their good judgement and cooperative attitudes ¡ª were all executed on the steps of their parliament building. Many of them had to be transported several kilometres to bring them from their homes. This was carefully planned and carried out to send a message.¡±


    ¡°And what message was that?¡± the Prince pressed. They all stared at him. ¡°Gentlemen? What is the significance for Ranvar?¡±


    ¡°Other than the loss of a useful ally,¡± said Kuplas, ¡°it isn¡¯t entirely clear as of yet, sire. We expect them to start making demands and stipulations once they¡¯ve swept the blood off their streets and had a chance to wash the splatter off the walls.¡±


    ¡°Was there much resistance?¡± asked the Prince. ¡°The army? We trained their national guard for them, did we not?¡±


    ¡°Yes, sire,¡± said Reshvay, somewhat bitterly. ¡°Capitulated like a bunch of peasants.¡± He shook his head, his large walrus-moustached trembling with rage.


    ¡°They can hardly be blamed if we were responsible for their training,¡± said a voice from the other end of the table.


    The Prince drew back in his chair to look at the speaker. A young man, certainly young for this table. Elegant, well-turned out. A bit of a dandy, perhaps. Popular with the ladies, no doubt.


    ¡°And you are¡­¡±


    ¡°Carmine, Your Majesty. Mol Carmine. Acting Minister of Instruction.¡± He stood up and bowed again.


    ¡°Yes, I recall seeing your file. Very impressive. We have high hopes for you.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Your Majesty. I hope to make you¡ª¡±


    ¡°Yes, yes,¡± said the Prince, keen to avoid the usual ritual rambling he was subjected to at every opportunity by his subordinates. A simple yes was far preferable. ¡°Sit down. If you¡¯re half as effective as your predecessor, I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll do fine.¡±


    Carmine sat down. The Prince turned to Reshvay. ¡°He¡¯s one of yours, is he?¡±


    Reshavay nodded. ¡°Youngest Major General we¡¯ve ever had. Ran my intelligence unit. Very bright. He won¡¯t disappoint.¡±


    ¡°Good, good,¡± said the Prince. ¡°And what do you make of the Gweur situation, General Carmine? An active threat to our security?¡±


    ¡°Yes, sire,¡± said Carmine. ¡°Active, but not imminently. Simmering hostilities will soon be coming to the boil.¡±


    ¡°How long would you say before we¡¯ll have to start worrying?¡± asked the Prince. Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!


    ¡°Once they¡¯ve settled down, they will start to make contact with their neighbours in a bid to build an alliance against us. Within two weeks they will have trade agreements in place that will have surprisingly favourable terms for their new partners, who will rally around them in the name of justice and profit. Military spending will go up and the rise of a nationalist agenda will lead to heightened recruiting for their armed forces. Within six weeks they will have a viable defensive capability. Within three months they will have a viable offensive capability.¡±


    Prince Ranade sat back, impressed by the specificity of the timeline presented to him. His ministers usually did their utmost to avoid being pinned down to exact dates. How accurate this one would turn out to be would be another matter, but these things were best judged after the facts were known. If the young man wished to make a name for himself as someone with a prescient understanding of the threats Ranvar faced, then let him prove himself.


    ¡°The rest of you agree?¡± said the Prince as he glanced from one to the next.


    ¡°Our borders are secure,¡± said Minister Bol, who ran the Ministry for the Interior. ¡°They won¡¯t cause us any issues, no matter what they attempt.¡±


    ¡°Not unless they manage to round up a few friends from the other side of our borders,¡± grumbled Reshvay. ¡°It¡¯s been a while since the last gathering of discontents. We¡¯re probably due.¡±


    ¡°And what would you say is our best option, currently?¡± the Prince asked the table. ¡°A friendly fly-over by a troop of dragons?¡±


    There was an awkwardness as the ministers looked at each other.


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid the dragons are not available, at the moment,¡± said Reshvay.


    ¡°What do you mean? None of them? How can that be?¡± demanded the Prince, perturbed that he was only now being made aware of what was clearly a problem. ¡°What¡¯s wrong with them? Are they ill?¡±


    ¡°We aren¡¯t exactly sure,¡± said Reshvay. ¡°It seems there¡¯s a problem with the High Father. It has led to a general torpor in the condition of the whole species. Archmage van Dastan would be the one to ask. He was supposed to be here.¡±


    ¡°I see,¡± said the Prince. ¡°Are there any more mundane actions we can take in the meantime?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a little extreme,¡± said Carmine, ¡°but there is the option of usurping the usurpers.¡±


    ¡°Take out the new government?¡± asked the Chief.


    ¡°It wouldn¡¯t be that difficult,¡± said Carmine. ¡°They are in a state of flux at the moment, if we were going to make a move, now would be the ideal time.¡±


    It was a bold suggestion. ¡°And how would you do it?¡± asked the Prince. ¡°Magic?¡±


    Using magic to assassinate leaders who were not amenable to seeing sense was the traditional method, although it hadn¡¯t been used in some time.


    ¡°No, sire,¡± said acting-Minister Carmine. ¡°I¡¯m not a mage, myself, and I prefer not to put too much reliance on unstable forces I don¡¯t fully understand. I¡¯m sure it would work, probably, but it would also make it obvious where the order originated from. I would much rather use a method less reliant on Arcanum and the restrictions that substance incurs.¡±


    Prince Ranade was surprised. It was rare to find someone referencing Arcanum as a liability. He couldn¡¯t even recall the last time it had happened.


    ¡°Such as?¡± asked the Prince.


    ¡°Poison,¡± said Carmine. He said the word like it was a weapon itself. ¡°Undetectable, it will seem like death by natural causes. We target one or two key players, the older members of the new coalition who have been keeping everyone from fighting each other, and let them fall apart of their own volition. It would give the dragons time to recuperate or a remedy found.¡±


    It was an interesting approach. Not definitive, just enough of a nudge to keep the newly ascended off-balance.


    ¡°A remedy for the dragons, and a remedy for the agitators of Gweur. How would you administer this remedy?¡± asked the Prince.


    Carmine turned to the Chief of Staff. ¡°Chief?¡±


    ¡°Hm? Yes, I suppose we could administer the, ah, remedy. Others will rise to take their place, of course. We can¡¯t poison them all. It isn¡¯t like they won¡¯t notice something¡¯s amiss, even if they don¡¯t know who¡¯s behind it.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I¡¯m sure they¡¯ll guess,¡± said Carmine.


    ¡°Won¡¯t they retaliate?¡± asked the Prince.


    ¡°If they have the ability to, then yes, sire, I think they will. It would be better for us to goad them into taking action when they aren¡¯t fully prepared. And if the zealots are involved, this may force their hand and thus reveal themselves.¡±


    The Prince mulled it over, stroking his moustache. ¡°Hmm. Yes. It would be better than waiting for them to get comfortable.¡± He looked around the table. ¡°This matter with the dragons is a concern. I would like to speak to the Archmage about it.¡±


    There were nervous looks around the table again.


    ¡°He hasn¡¯t been very responsive,¡± said Bol. ¡°I¡¯ve tried to arrange a meeting with him, but I¡¯ve been told he¡¯s too busy.¡±


    ¡°Doing what?¡± asked the Prince.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± said Minister Bol.


    ¡°He¡¯s inside the Royal College,¡± said the Chief. ¡°That¡¯s all we¡¯ve been able to discern for sure.¡±


    ¡°I can go speak with him, if you wish,¡± said Carmine.


    ¡°Didn¡¯t you say you weren¡¯t a mage?¡± asked the Prince, curious as to why the new man would volunteer for such a task. The Archmage was an intimidating man at the best of times. Facing him on his home ground was something few people would want to willingly subject themselves to.


    ¡°I am not a mage, that is true,¡± said Carmine. ¡°In fact, to be perfectly frank with you, sire, I don¡¯t fully trust those who are. A prejudice of mine.¡±


    ¡°And why is that?¡± asked the Prince. ¡°Do you have reason to be wary of mages?¡±


    ¡°I feel I have reason to be wary of any man who is imbued with the ability to defeat entire armies alone. There is something not quite right for a single man to hold such vast power.¡±


    ¡°You mean like a king, or a prince?¡± asked Prince Ranade.


    ¡°No, Your Majesty, not at all. A king acts in the interest of his subjects and of his kingdom. It is a burden as much as it is a blessing.¡±


    ¡°I can certainly attest to that,¡± grumbled the Prince.


    ¡°A mage acts in the best interest of¡­ well, I can¡¯t say I¡¯m entirely sure.¡±


    ¡°And how long will it take you to prepare the targets and deploy the remedy?¡± asked the Prince, making it sound like he was asking the royal gardener about the whitefly problem.


    ¡°Immediately, Your Majesty,¡± said Carmine. ¡°My preparations are complete. As soon as the Chief makes his agents available to me, I will be able to start.¡±


    All eyes turned towards the Chief of Staff. ¡°What? I mean, they are ready now. What is it you want them to do?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll brief them personally,¡± said Carmine. ¡°It won¡¯t be very complicated. I¡¯m sorry to impose. I would use my own people, but I¡¯ve only just moved into my new office and I have to say it isn¡¯t at all clear how my predecessor was able to accomplish so much on such a low budget and with only a small number of staff. I¡¯m hoping my performance on this matter will help me get some additional funding for the Ministry.¡±


    ¡°You understand this isn¡¯t the requisitions and appropriations committee, don¡¯t you?¡± said Minister Bol, nonplussed at the attempt by someone to pad their ministerial allowance.


    Carmine smiled innocently and rubbed the back of his head. ¡°Apologies. I still have a lot to learn about how to conduct myself in these kinds of situations. Please forgive my shameless attempt to extract money from the royal exchequer, Your Majesty.¡± His voice was softly persuasive even when going in reverse. The smile turned into a boyish grin.


    ¡°Ha!¡± laughed the Prince in a curt bark. ¡°You may only be the acting Minister of Instruction but you seem to have the art of it well in hand. Intelligence officer was he?¡± Reshavay nodded. ¡°Let¡¯s hope he isn¡¯t too smart for his own good.¡±


    Prince Ranade relaxed into a contemplative posture, a hand pulling on one end of his moustache. The ministers recognised his need to review his decision and waited silently.


    In fact, the decision was already made. Gweur was not important enough to waste a large amount of resources on, but enough of a potential worry to be dealt with as quickly as possible. Something as mundane as removing a couple of pivotal figures to slow down their grasp for self-determination was an adequate response. And there were other matters to consider. The condition of the dragons, for a start. He didn¡¯t believe it was something that should be underestimated.


    ¡°I wish to know more about this other matter,¡± the Prince said presently. The ministers waited for something more specific. They had no idea which matter he was referring to. ¡°I¡¯m speaking about the Ransom boy. You all seem to be showing an extraordinary level of interest in this child. Someone please expand on the basis of this attentiveness.¡±


    There was a pause as the ministers collected their thoughts, and hoped for someone else to take the lead. Such reluctance was unusual for this group, who always tried to outdo each other when it came to making bold claims and insisting on unproven threats. It could only mean there was something very unsettling at the source of their concerns. Something they couldn¡¯t even name.


    ¡°It is,¡± said Minister Kuplas, ¡°something of an unusual situation.¡±


    ¡°How so?¡± asked the Prince.


    ¡°The demons are drawn to him,¡± said Kuplas. ¡°The Royal College have made him their ward. The Secret Service have had to keep tabs on him, and even then he has managed to evade their surveillance.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s nothing to surveil,¡± bit back the Chief. ¡°The boy is like any other student. The matter from before has been resolved.¡±


    ¡°The boy is a magnet for trouble,¡± blustered Reshvay. ¡°Even if there are no signs of a problem currently, it is only a question of time. It would be safer to have him removed, for the greater good.¡±


    ¡°My understanding,¡± said Carmine, his voice the calmest of them, ¡°is that this Tutt boy is merely a victim of circumstance. He happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time, and became caught up in events beyond his control. His greatest achievement was to survive unscathed.¡±


    The rest of the table looked at Carmine with the studied authority of men who had learned to see trouble before it made itself known, facing a youngster who had not.


    Carmine realised he had exposed himself and retreated into affable charm. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, did I speak out of turn?¡±


    Kuplas slowly turned away from Carmine, towards the prince. ¡°It is as our colleague has pointed out so astutely. He emerged unscathed, from an encounter, no, from several encounters, that even a great mage, even the Archmage himself, would have struggled to withstand. Unscathed. And he is merely a boy of no ability and no standing. The idea of such an unknown quantity is disturbing. The potential for such a presence is terrifying.¡±


    Reshvay slammed his fist on the table. ¡°Squash him! Squash him now before it¡¯s too late.¡±


    ¡°He is a child,¡± said the Chief. ¡°And an unnecessary distraction when we have far more pressing concerns. If anyone needs to be kept under observation, it¡¯s the Archmage¡¯s daughter.¡±


    ¡°I wholeheartedly agree,¡± said Kuplas. ¡°Remind me again who it is she associates most closely with among the Ransom students?¡±


    Even under his mask, the Chief¡¯s scowl was apparent.


    ¡°Fascinating,¡± mused the Prince. ¡°I had thought we had heard the last of this pup. Nicolav Tutt, that was his name, was it not? It seems young master Tutt has the gift of being the centre of attention. Very well, now he has mine. Chief, I want you to increase monitoring on our young enigma. I wish him to be unaware of it, though.¡±


    The chief nodded, but not in his usually definitive manner.


    ¡°Chief?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry to say,¡± said Reshvay, ¡°the Chief¡¯s people have had something of a chequered history when it comes to keeping their eye on the boy.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s the girl,¡± said the Chief. ¡°She is unmanageable, as her father trained her to be.¡±


    ¡°Do you think,¡± asked the Prince, ¡°this could all be part of a much more involved conspiracy hatched by the Archmage himself?¡±


    There was another pause, but this one was heavier, ready to burst but wary of the damage that might be caused.


    ¡°I think that is more than likely the case,¡± said Minister Kuplas, softly.


    ¡°More than likely but less than certain?¡± said the Prince.


    Kuplas nodded.


    ¡°If I may,¡± said Carmine. ¡°I realise I¡¯m coming in late on all of this, but perhaps I might be allowed to lend a little scrutiny with regard to the boy? The Chief does have his hands full with affairs of national security.¡±


    ¡°Aren¡¯t you also a little too busy with your small budget and lack of staff?¡± said the Chief, bristling at the implied ineffectiveness of his department.


    ¡°It won¡¯t take much effort,¡± said Carmie. ¡°You see, even though I don¡¯t claim to understand the source of this boy¡¯s importance, I do recognise he is a rather unique individual, as my predecessor did before me, and I¡¯ve had his movements observed, purely as a precautionary measure.¡±


    ¡°In the school?¡± said the Chief, ready to make a territorial issue of it.


    ¡°He isn¡¯t in the school, currently,¡± said Carmine.


    ¡°What?!¡± said the Chief, startled and embarrassed by the news. ¡°Where the hell is he?¡±


    ¡°At the Royal College.¡±


    ¡°Under the Archmage¡¯s orders?¡± asked the Prince.


    ¡°I am not sure,¡± said Carmine. ¡°Possibly.¡±


    ¡°How did he leave the school without your men reporting it?¡± War Minister Reshvay asked the Chief of the Secret Service, in no way hiding his petty delight at the mask man¡¯s failure to keep track of the boy whether in captivity or the wild.


    The Chief answered by shifting to ask Carmine a question of his own. ¡°Is the girl with him?¡±


    ¡±The Archmage¡¯s daughter? Yes, I have been told she is.¡±


    ¡°Just the two of them?¡± asked Kuplas.


    ¡°No. That is, my predecessor¡¯s daughter is also with them.¡±


    ¡°And which of the three was it you were keeping such a close eye on?¡± Minister Kuplas asked.


    ¡°It seems,¡± said Carmine, ¡°that they come as a packet of three.¡±


    ¡°The only person who can really explain this is the Archmage,¡± the Prince growled. ¡°Monforth have him summoned. And make it clear it is more than a polite request.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Your Majesty.¡± Monforth, who had remained standing behind the Prince¡¯s chair during the meeting, walked over to one of the servants who were lined up along one wall, waiting to be of service. He passed him a note that had already been written and the newly appointed messenger immediately ran off. Monforth returned to his position.


    ¡°The rest of you, begin your tasks,¡± said the Prince. ¡°And increase your efforts regarding the boy ¡ª we will monitor him for various angles and see what kind of picture emerges. Don¡¯t be too heavy-handed. He is to be allowed the freedom to act as he pleases, for the present.¡±


    They all stood, bowed, and then left.


    ¡°I¡¯ll try that coffee, I think,¡± said the Prince, suddenly feeling weary. If the Archmage was behind any of this, it would be most troublesome. An external foe, from outside of Ranvar¡¯s borders or outside of its plane of existence, was one thing. The most powerful mage in the kingdom working his treasonous spells from inside these very city walls was another thing altogether. A far more problematic one.


    But it could be the Archmage¡¯s interest had been piqued for the same reasons as his ministers¡¯. The boy was a curious nexus of unlikely fates. If he wasn¡¯t the agent of some more powerful entity, he was to be pitied. An innocent. The forces he was likely to encounter would not leave him innocent for long.


    A cup of black coffee was placed in front of him. It looked like regular coffee, but that was how she worked her own treasonous magic. He took a sip.


    ¡°Hmm. Not as bad as I expected. It could use a lump or two of sugar.¡±


    ¡°Ah,¡± said Monforth. ¡°We no longer stock sugar, not exactly. We do have a sugar substitute that I¡¯m told is nearly identical, other than a slight bitter aftertaste.¡±


    Bitter sugar? What kind of madness was this?


    ¡°Just bring me some milk! Or has the blasted woman replaced the cows with Dalmatians in horned helmets?¡±


    He sat with a grim expression, waiting for his warm milk to arrive, and then continued to wait for what he expected would be a rather less warm arrival from the Royal College.

 Book 2: Chapter Eleven

    ¡°So,¡± said Winnum, ¡°this is what depravity looks like from the inside.¡±


    Nic turned a full circle to take in their surroundings. Black walls made it feel like they were at the bottom of a well, the top far above them blurring as it fell out of sight.


    He expected it wasn¡¯t like that at all, merely an optical peculiarity of being inside the High-Father when there wasn¡¯t a vacancy. It wasn¡¯t at all like the other time he had been inside a dragon. Then, it had been like wearing a mask, where you were aware of a barrier between you and the world but were still able to view the outside through eyes that fit over your own.


    ¡°I thought he¡¯d be here to meet us,¡± said Nic. He came back around to face Winnum, who was somehow whole of body and appeared just as she had in the Other Place ¡ª a middle-aged woman with a sensible haircut and a somewhat stern, angular face.


    ¡°Perhaps he doesn¡¯t know we¡¯re here,¡± said Winnum. She seemed very calm and composed considering how against this she had been.


    ¡°He knows,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°Of course he does,¡± said Winnum. ¡°Do you have to be so literal all the time?¡± Perhaps she wasn¡¯t quite as composed as she appeared.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± said Nic, who hadn¡¯t been paying close enough attention to her tone. He was too taken with where he was. Demons were supposed to manifest inside humans but this time, the human was inside the demon.


    ¡°You aren¡¯t even listening, are you? You should get on with him just fine. Two peas in a pod.¡±


    ¡°Hmm?¡± said Nic. They were completely enclosed but free to move as they pleased. A portable prison to take with you. He wondered if he could have any effect on them. Probably not while the High-Father was in control. He had let them in, so he presumably wanted them here.


    Winnum let out a loud breath, resigned but grumpy. ¡°He¡¯s watching to see if he can learn anything from you, just in case you turn out to be a hidden genius using the artless exterior of a child as a disguise. He doesn¡¯t know you like I do. If only it were an act. If only...¡±


    She was needling him intentionally, to get a response. She was an impatient person, he had learned. At least, this diminutive form of her was.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you want to speak to him, too?¡± Nic asked. ¡°He¡¯s the one you blame, isn¡¯t he?¡±


    ¡°Blame? Blame is too small and far too prissy a word. He acts out of nature, not malice.¡±


    ¡°So, you don¡¯t hate him?¡± asked Nic.


    ¡°Why would you think that?¡±


    ¡°Because you came here to destroy him,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°If you hear mice under the floorboards, do you leave them to breed? If there¡¯s rot in the ceiling beams, do you leave them untreated to fall apart? Hate has nothing to do with it. Self-preservation requires firm and decisive action. Something the mages of the Royal College never understood. They were too pleased with their ability to toss balls of fire in the air while people ooh¡¯d and ah¡¯d at them. Fools. If I hate anyone, it¡¯s them. For their stupid naivety.¡±


    ¡°But now the door is closed,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°It is, yes. Firmly shut.¡±


    ¡°And the High-Father will die and the magic will die with him, you said.¡±


    ¡°Indeed,¡± said Winnum.


    ¡°Then why did you come here?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t! You brought me here,¡± said Winnum.


    ¡°Not here,¡± said Nic. ¡°I mean back to this world. You said you had to come to close the door from this side, but the door is already shut. Firmly. You must be here to do something else. I don¡¯t think your followers taking you out of me and putting you in a bottle is what you were intending.¡±


    ¡°My followers,¡± said Winnum, ¡°have lost their way. I can¡¯t blame them after being left to their own devices for so long. Demons are much better at staying around to continue giving guidance. I did not have that luxury.¡±


    ¡°And I don¡¯t think you came back to just watch your enemy¡¯s demise,¡± said Nic. ¡°I don¡¯t think you¡¯re that petty.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± said Winnum. ¡°Although you might be surprised. Or are you intentionally flattering me to get me to lower my guard? Are you shrewder than I thought? Is it an act after all?¡± She was toying with him, distracting him.


    ¡°Which leads me to believe you still have things to do here, to ensure the success of your ambitions.¡±


    ¡°Which are?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± said Nic. ¡°But I thought it might help if you spoke with the High-Father.¡±


    ¡°Help me?¡± said Winnum. ¡°No, it will be of no help whatsoever.¡±


    ¡°Just a suggestion since we¡¯re here anyway,¡± said Nic. ¡°I also wanted to come and see if he really is dying.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t believe what I told you, and you don¡¯t believe the High-Father¡¯s condition. What a sceptical boy you are.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s the best way to learn the truth,¡± said Nic. ¡°Keep an open mind.¡±


    ¡°An open mind that everyone¡¯s lying? How very impartial of you.¡±


    ¡°Maybe what you¡¯re planning isn¡¯t the best way to free ourselves of demonic tyranny,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°You have a better idea?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said Nic. ¡°I just think there¡¯s going to be a fight at some point and a lot of people are going to get hurt. You said that magic would die and that would be the end of it, but I think you left out the in-between stuff. In the long run, it will be for the best, but those of here right now are going to get caught in the middle of it. That¡¯s what I¡¯m thinking.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re assuming a lot, don¡¯t you think?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Nic. He was certainly doing that. ¡°Am I wrong?¡±


    ¡°No, not wrong. Not right, either. Somewhere in between.¡±


    ¡°Do you not know, either?¡±


    ¡°Are you mocking me?¡± asked Winnum.


    ¡°No,¡± said Nic, realising he had been too casual in how he spoke and was in danger of offending her. ¡°I¡¯m not in a position to look down on you. Or on anyone. I think that¡¯s how I ended up involved in all this. A vessel was needed, one that wouldn¡¯t complicate things by being of any value. No one will risk everything to save me, and I can¡¯t really save myself. I¡¯m very convenient like that.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps you do understand,¡± said Winnum. ¡°But it isn¡¯t only you, it¡¯s all of us. They travel between the stars and visit worlds as strange to them as they are to us. It isn¡¯t with malice they use us, but we are only tools to them. Instruments to apply to their needs, and then put away, forgotten until needed again.¡±


    ¡°I think of it more like a suitcase,¡± said Nic. ¡°A sturdy, dependable case you need to transport your possessions from here to there. And then you put it away in the attic. I have a trunk at school that used to belong to my father. He got it from his uncle. It¡¯s beautifully made and does an excellent job. It¡¯s only a trunk, but it has great value to me because I need it. Like they need us.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Winnum, sweetening towards him a little. ¡°A suitcase is very apt. Our utility makes them fond of us, but they do not care for us beyond that.¡±


    ¡°People rarely throw out old suitcases,¡± said Nic.


    They stood there in the strange darkness, considering their role as the valise of unworldly beings.


    The blackness around them pulled back. With no light present, the effect was peculiar, oddly colourless, but the sense of space and shape around them shifted and warped, even though everything remained black and impenetrable and no movement could be discerned.


    ¡°He comes,¡± said Winnum.


    ¡°I was always here,¡± said a sombre voice from the darkness. A man slowly appeared, as though he was walking towards them through a bank of black fog.


    ¡°How nice of you to greet us,¡± said Winnum, ¡°when you have so much else to do. Dying and so forth.¡±


    ¡°Welcome home, Archmage Roke,¡± said the High-Father. ¡°Hello, Nic. I wondered if you would come.¡±


    ¡°Hello,¡± said Nic, a little startled to be addressed directly. ¡°You look in much better health in here.¡±


    The High-Father of dragons looked like a man in his 60s. Taller than Nic, but not intimidatingly so. His hair was white and close-cropped and his clothes were robes similar to those worn by the mages of the Royal College.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± said the High-Father. ¡°This isn¡¯t a very accurate representation.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said Winnum, ¡°it never is.¡±


    ¡°I must say,¡± said the High-Father, ¡°I am saddened that you would go back on your word like this. Archmage. And after such a short time.¡±


    ¡°Only you would consider a thousand years to be insufficient time to come to an obvious realisation. Do you know how angry I was when I realised you had lied to me?¡±


    ¡°I never lied,¡± said the High-Father.This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.


    ¡°No,¡± said Winnem, ¡°you never do. You just don¡¯t reveal how awful the truth is going to be.¡±


    ¡°You have misinterpreted my intentions,¡± said the High-Father. ¡°Your time alone has created phantoms in your thinking.¡±


    ¡°Truly it has,¡± said Winnum. ¡°Ghastly phantoms I wish to exorcise, and so I shall. Starting with you. Don¡¯t be fooled, Nic. This, all this.¡± She waved her arms about. ¡°All of it is a lie, yet it reveals so much. Look at this place, this is how he wishes us to think of his interior. Dark, sombre, open to possibilities with no preconceived notions ¡ª a blank slate. But so does he reveal the truth. Darkness ¡ª a mind with no ability to reflect. A kindly old uncle? No. He is dragon on the outside and dragon on the inside, a savage beast driven by base needs. Hunger. He feeds on us. He means us no ill will, but every animal must eat. They will devour us and then they will move onto the next hunting ground.¡±


    The High-Father looked a bit startled. ¡°That¡¯s a bit much, isn¡¯t it? Is that how you really see us?¡±


    Winnum Roke¡¯s eyes were glinting. When she spoke about demons, her distrust and misgivings bubbled up into her face, energising her like an athlete primed for the race. Or a hunter settling into a killer¡¯s mindset.


    ¡°I see you for what you are. Do you forget who I am? What I know of you? This facade does not deceive me. I know what you are.¡±


    ¡°You are not her,¡± said the High-Father, his voice soft and compassionate. ¡°You are¡­ limited in your understanding.¡±


    ¡°You are correct. I am not her. I am something you should fear more. I am the distilled essence of what she thinks of you.¡±


    Nic listened and observed, very much doing his utmost not to become involved or even be noticed. The High-Father was choosing to play the role of the reasonable but wronged victim. Winnum Roke was having none of it, pushing harder with every gentle refutation he made of her accusations. The High-Father had to know that would be her reaction, so the only conclusion was that he was deliberately goading her. Obversely, she had to know that was his plan, but was rising to the bait, or seeming to. It was all rather disorienting, but still fascinating.


    The High-Father¡¯s placid demeanour made him look the more moderate of the two. Winnum Roke¡¯s sneering hysteria made her seem quite, quite mad. Not a deranged, irrational madness of the mind, but rather a highly-focused and intense madness of intent. On a battlefield, her enemies would shrink back in the face of her blood-lust, and her armies would rise with the swell of her animosity. Or so Nic imagined.


    ¡°You will die,¡± said Winnum. ¡°You and your children. They will wither and fade and be forgotten. You may take a few of us with you, but that is a small price to pay.¡±


    ¡°And the loss to your kind?¡± said the High-Father, unruffled by the vehemence thrown at him. ¡°You will be sent back to the dark ages, struggling to survive.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Winnum. ¡°Struggling is what makes us strong. It was a mistake to accept your help and your comfort. We are not like you. We are willing to bite off our own limbs to escape from a hunter¡¯s trap, even if it means bleeding to death. It takes time to bleed, you see? And we, unlike you, are accustomed to getting things done in a short amount of time. Like finding the one who placed the trap and tearing their throat out, protecting our future. We think in generations, you think only of selfish eternity.¡±


    ¡°The result won¡¯t be as you imagine,¡± said the High-Father. ¡°What you are doing will leave your world on the verge of annihilation.¡±


    ¡°Isn¡¯t that better than every other world you have visited your benevolence on?¡± asked Winnum with vicious alacrity. ¡°Better to be on the verge than beyond it.¡±


    ¡°We can still find a way to reach common ground, Winnum,¡± said the High Father.


    ¡°You forget, I am not her. I do not have her mercy, or her gullibility. Your pleas for collaboration won¡¯t work on me. I am the purest part of her ¡ª I am her spite. And I have grown strong. The door is closed, Old One. Come open it if you can.¡± Her defiance made her seem incandescent in that dark place. Nic watched spellbound.


    There seemed to be no compromise possible here. Winnum refused to entertain it, and she went out of her way to make that clear. It was more than mere gloating, it was a posture of defence. If she didn¡¯t take such a stance, she might be run over and convinced of some other path, less painful, more agreeable.


    Or was there more going on here than Nic could see. A battle of wits and wills carried out beyond the limits of his perception.


    ¡°You want him to break,¡± muttered Nic to himself. ¡°You want to push him into¡­ What?¡±


    Winnum Roke turned slowly to look at Nic. She was smiling, but in a way that sent a shiver down Nic¡¯s spine.


    ¡°You¡¯re very smart. Keen eyes and sharp ears. What a loss it would be to lose you.¡± There was an underlying mocking quality to her tone, but he wasn¡¯t sure if it was aimed at him or the residue of her conversation with the High-Father.


    Nic held up his hands to apologise for interrupting. He tried to say the word ¡®sorry¡¯ but no sound came out of him.


    Her attention was fully on him now. ¡°What did you think would happen if you brought me here? Was it purely a throw of the dice? Academic interest? Smart boy like you would have more of a design to your actions.¡± Her eyes were narrowed and the High-Father no longer that important. ¡°Or did you think this would be the best way for you to get some answers? No one cares what you want to know, but they might reveal it in your invisible presence. Was that the idea?¡±


    ¡°I just thought¡­ I wondered if you might¡­ find a way to get along.¡± It sounded terribly weak and juvenile now that he had seen what the two of them were like together. In an odd way, they weren¡¯t really that different, which was probably the reason they clashed so hard.


    ¡°He thinks we¡¯re two sides of the same coin,¡± said the High-Father. ¡°He believes we are not so very dissimilar.¡±


    For a moment Nic wondered if the High-Father had read his mind, but there was no need to suspect something so farfetched. He had simply guessed the obvious thoughts of a predictable boy.


    ¡°You aren¡¯t, really,¡± said Nic, pushing aside concern that what he was doing would only draw their ire. ¡°You both think you can provoke the other into a mistake or a concession or¡­ something. I don¡¯t think either of you will succeed.¡±


    Winnum Roke seemed to sag, then straighten. She didn¡¯t appear to be infuriated any longer. If anything, she was completely at ease.


    ¡°If the boy is able to analyse our strategies so easily,¡± she said, ¡°how is it we continue unaware?¡± She turned back to the High-Father for an answer.


    ¡°It¡¯s because he is odd,¡± said the High-Father. ¡°Don¡¯t you think?¡±


    ¡°He is,¡± agreed Winnum, talking about him like he wasn¡¯t there. ¡°Yet there¡¯s nothing about him to suggest he is anything more than he seems. A little more perceptive than most, a little more astute, occasionally. Why did you choose him? Because he is so unremarkable?¡±


    ¡°You think he¡¯s unremarkable?¡± said the High-Father. ¡°Look how he stands there, unafraid. How many mages would be so bold?¡±


    ¡°Is it ignorance?¡± said Winnum. ¡°Are you too ignorant to be afraid?¡±


    Nic hesitated, unsure if she was being rhetorical. If he was too ignorant, how would he know?


    ¡°No, I don¡¯t think so,¡± said Nic quietly, unable to not sound meek. ¡°I¡¯m relying on my unimportance to make me not worth the trouble. It would be embarrassing if you had to kill someone like me to get what you want.¡±


    The High-Father started laughing, loud and full-bodied, shaking his belly and chest.


    Winnum rolled her eyes. ¡°Don¡¯t be taken in by his avuncular ways. He is not the wizened wizard he appears. The harmless appearances of someone who can take any shape they wish tells you something, eh?¡±


    ¡°I can see why she likes you so much,¡± said the High-Father. ¡°Tell me, Nic, what do you think would be the best way to proceed?¡±


    Nic was surprised to be asked so directly. He had wondered if he would have a chance to share his thoughts on the matter, but such a thing seemed more than presumptuous. He would be laughed at for suggesting it, he had thought. But he had already been laughed at, so what was there to lose?


    He looked over at Winnum, who didn¡¯t make any objections.


    ¡°Well, what if you were to take it in turns? The demons operate on a completely different timescale to us. How long will humanity last, realistically? Ten thousand years? A hundred thousand? After we¡¯re done, then the demons can emerge and do as they please. Wouldn¡¯t that suit both sides?¡±


    Winnum Roke and the High-Father exchanged a slow look. Then Winnum shook her head. ¡°Idiot.¡±


    ¡°Sadly, that won¡¯t work,¡± said the High-Father.


    Nic wanted to demand an explanation, make them justify their immediate refusal to even consider what he¡¯d said, but it would be pointless. Just them not wanting to was reason enough. At least he had managed to get them to agree on something for once.


    ¡°Then, what if you were to agree to fight on a smaller battlefield. A duel between the two of you. Settle the matter without bringing the rest of the world into it.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t give up, do you?¡± said Winnum. He wasn¡¯t sure if she meant it as a compliment or a weakness.


    ¡°Why not?¡± said the High-Father. ¡°Disaster would be averted for the majority, at least.¡±


    ¡°Why not?¡± said Winnum. ¡°Why not? I¡¯ll tell you why not. Because I¡¯m already winning. The advantage is mine. You will try, I know, but you couldn¡¯t open the door more than the crack we agreed to, that I agreed to so foolishly, and now the door is sealed tight and I am still standing guard to make sure there is no chance for you to force it open. I am there, not here. And you are here, not there. How will you get past me? Knock loudly?¡± She smiled, the madness returning to her voice. ¡°This is the problem with their kind, Nic. They take so interminably long to reach the conclusion already decided. Slow and methodical, hoping to outlast all sense and all reason. You have to push them along or you¡¯ll die of boredom. Isn¡¯t that right, High-Father? Are you close to reaching the decision I¡¯ve already made for you?¡±


    The High-Father didn¡¯t answer, but he did seem less composed now. Was she getting to him?


    ¡°What decision?¡± asked Nic.


    ¡°Did you think he¡¯d accept the situation as it is?¡± said Winnum. ¡°He wants the door open. He wants someone to do it for him and now he will move every mage and every puppet he has to make it so. He will set us against each other, hoping to make us hesitate and weaken our resolve and open ourselves to negotiation and misjudgement. They won¡¯t face us directly, it would make us too concentrated on a single goal. They fear to show us the truth in case it makes us too strong. Why don¡¯t you show the boy your true face, High-Father? Go on. No? Shame. It would make you weep blood, Nic. Then you would know what you were truly up against, and nothing else would be needed to convince you.¡±


    The High-Father¡¯s lips were closed a little tighter now. His eyes slightly more deeply set in his face. ¡°It didn¡¯t have to be like this.¡±


    ¡°No, it didn¡¯t,¡± agreed Winnum. ¡°But you insisted.¡±


    The High-Father said nothing else, he just disappeared.


    Nic waited for something else to happen, but it didn¡¯t.


    ¡°He¡¯s gone,¡± said Winnum. ¡°Finally.¡±


    ¡°Gone where?¡± asked Nic.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± said Winnum. ¡°The dragon can no longer sustain him. It¡¯s just a bag of meat and bones at this point. An empty suitcase. Empty, that is, apart from us, of course. And possibly some mothballs.¡±


    ¡°Are you sure there¡¯s no way to reach a¡ª¡±


    ¡°A compromise? You have a lot to learn about true evil, Nic. It doesn¡¯t have horns or breathe fire. It is reasonable and sensible and will tell you it is only doing what it must. The ends justify the means. The goal is worth the sacrifice. There is no other way, you see? It may be evil, but it is the better of two evils. The lesser evil. And you will believe it because they believe it.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t you think the same about what you¡¯re doing?¡± said Nic. ¡°The lesser of three evils?¡±


    There was a pause as Winnum considered this. ¡°Yes, I suppose you¡¯re right.¡± And then Winnum laughed, just as the High-Father had laughed.


    Nic waited until she stopped, which took some time.


    ¡°How do we get out?¡± he asked, finally.


    ¡°You tell me,¡± said Winnum. ¡°This was your idea.¡±


    ¡°We can¡¯t just go back to my body? We can¡¯t take control of the dragon?¡±


    She shook her head.


    When he had been inside a dragon before, it had been effortless. He had entered and exited at will. He had been able to see what to do. Now he was in the dark. ¡°Then what do we do?¡±


    ¡°Come, come, Nic. You have experience in this sort of thing now. You can see patterns, can¡¯t you? What does a poor, helpless boy like you always do? You wait to be rescued.¡± She laughed again. It wasn¡¯t a kind laugh.


    Sometime later, he wasn¡¯t sure how long, Nic¡¯s eyes opened. He had been waiting in the dark forever, it seemed, and then he was dragged out.


    He was in a bed and he was comfortable. The Archmage loomed over him, a concerned look on his face. The world was still blurry and distant, and he wasn¡¯t sure what the Archmage was saying.


    Should he trust the Archmage? Could he tell him what had happened? Wouldn¡¯t he want to help the High-Father preserve magic? Was that so bad?


    ¡°Nic? Can you hear me?¡±


    Nic nodded.


    ¡°You¡¯re fine,¡± said the Archmage. ¡°Just relax. The doctor will take care of you.¡±


    A woman appeared next to the Archmage. It was Dr Wylian.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Nic,¡± she said, smiling. ¡°You¡¯re in safe hands now.¡±

 Book 2: Chapter Twelve

    There was daylight coming in from a window. Archmage van Dastan was standing in front of a window, making him slightly ethereal with a soft glow around him.


    ¡°Well, say something, boy. Can¡¯t you speak?¡±


    Beside him, Dr Wylian offered an encouraging nod.


    Nic kept silent and did his best to assess the situation. Panicking wouldn¡¯t achieve anything, although that had never been panic¡¯s aim.


    He was lying on a bed. Not an operating table ¡ª there were sheets and a blanket, a pillow under his head.


    The Archmage and Dr Wylian were wearing their normal clothes. Neither had a sharp instrument in hand.


    He turned his awareness on himself. He was wearing the nightgown from last night. His bare feet felt gritty and dirty. He wasn¡¯t strapped down.


    ¡°I¡ª¡± His words stuck in his dry throat.


    The Archmage and the doctor leaned in, like parents expectantly awaiting their baby¡¯s first words. What should he do? Was he in danger with the Archmage here? If the Archmage was also involved in the doctor¡¯s scheming, there was no escape. But if he wasn¡¯t, accusing the doctor would reveal the passenger he was carrying. A passenger who was being very quiet.


    Nic peered into his mind, looking for signs of Winnum Roke, even though he had no way to know what those signs might look like.


    ¡°Nic?¡± The Archmage¡¯s voice was louder and sharper, startling Nic.


    ¡°What happened?¡± said Nic, choosing to play the role of confused and uncertain young man. The role he was apparently born to play, again and again.


    A look of relief crossed the Archmage¡¯s face. ¡°Thank goodness. I extracted you from the High-Father¡¯s body. You were very lucky. Getting caught in there when he passed¡­ you would have remained in limbo until the corpse rotted.¡±


    ¡°The High-Father¡¯s dead?¡± As far as Nic recalled, the High-Father had left of his own volition. Where to, he had no idea.


    ¡°Unfortunately, yes,¡± said the Archmage. ¡°There was nothing left of him, the body of the dragon is merely an animal carcass. His loss will cause many problems. But tell me, how did you end up in there?¡±


    Nic looked from the Archmage to the doctor. She showed no signs of malice, or of concern that he might reveal her secrets. Was she that confident he would keep quiet on the matter of a Winnum Roke cult operating inside the Royal College¡¯s walls?


    ¡°There was an explosion,¡± said Nic. ¡°I went to see what it was. There was no one with the High-Father when I got there. When I touched him¡­¡±


    He was speaking the truth, more or less. He hadn¡¯t gone to investigate the explosion, he had been using it to cover his escape from Dr Wylian¡¯s clutches ¡ª clutches he was uncomfortably within range of again ¡ª thanks to Mallory. What had happened to him?


    ¡°The explosion¡­ was anyone hurt?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said Dr Wylian, ¡°everyone¡¯s fine. It was just an accident in the laboratory. A student mixed two volatile liquids¡­ foolish, but he survived with only minor injuries.¡±


    Was that true? The Archmage didn¡¯t seem to be suspicious of the explanation. Perhaps students conducting late-night experiments was a normal thing here.


    ¡°What happened inside the dragon?¡± asked the Archmage. He was eager to find out about Nic¡¯s own late-night experiment.


    ¡°I¡­ I spoke to the High-Father. He appeared as an old man, small with white hair. He¡­ said there would be changes, and then he left.¡±


    The Archmage¡¯s face registered surprise, then something close to excitement. ¡°He left? Are you sure?¡± His tone was one of bracing hope. ¡°Where did he go?¡±


    Nic shook his head. ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±


    The good thing about being seen as a hapless waif who kept stumbling into matters completely out of his league was that his ignorance was not only accepted but more or less presupposed. Pleading ignorance wasn¡¯t necessary, it was his due.


    ¡°You must think, Nic,¡± said the Archmage. ¡°Think about what he said to you. Even the smallest detail could be of vital importance. Think, boy.¡±


    ¡°Archmage, please,¡± said Dr Wylian. ¡°You promised me you wouldn¡¯t be so heavy-handed be gentle. The boy needs to rest.¡±


    Nic looked at the doctor with curiosity. What was she trying to do here? Get him on his own so she could complete her task?


    The Archmage misconstrued the look as something more basic. ¡°This is Dr Wylain, the college physician. She will see to your recovery.¡±


    ¡°I feel fine,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°Nic,¡± said the Archmage, attempting the gentle approach he had apparently agreed to, ¡°there is something I have to tell you. When I went into the dragon¡¯s mind to retrieve you, there was another entity there, attached to your consciousness.¡±


    ¡°There was?¡± said Nic, trying his best to live up to his reputation. ¡°What kind of entity?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s hard to say. Not human, not demon. I believe it was put there by Archmage Roke. Perhaps to keep watch over you. Perhaps to guide you without you even knowing it. Whatever the aim, it would be to your detriment, of that I¡¯m certain.¡±


    Nic was certain of that, too, but he had still agreed to her presence. ¡°What did you do?¡± he asked.


    ¡°I disentangled you from it,¡± said the Archmage. ¡°It wasn¡¯t easy. There may have been some¡­ damage. I¡¯m sorry, but it had to be done.¡±


    It took a moment for Nic to control his fear. Damage? He felt the same as before, at least in his mind. He tried to get up.


    ¡°No, don¡¯t¡ª¡± said the doctor.


    He managed to sit up on the bed. Everything appeared to be working. His hands and feet were responsive.


    The doctor pushed him back down. ¡°You have to rest. It was a very stressful ordeal. You don¡¯t want to hamper your recovery.¡±


    Nic allowed himself to be guided back to lying down, not resisting, for now. He was confused more than anything.


    ¡°You managed to get it disentangled?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said the Archmage.


    ¡°Where is it now?¡± asked Nic.


    ¡°I left it in the dragon. It can¡¯t do any harm in there.¡±


    Nic looked over at the doctor, who was smiling. She, too, had wanted to remove Winnum Roke, although her method had been somewhat more direct, and surgical.


    ¡°What if it takes over the High-Father¡¯s body?¡± said Nic.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry. Without the High-Father¡¯s magic, the dragon is no threat. It is completely inert and a suitable prison.¡±


    Nic looked over at the doctor again.


    ¡°I¡¯ve checked you over,¡± she said, leaning over him, putting her hands on his face and pushing his eyelids up with her thumbs. ¡°There are no indications of severe damage. Any minor tears will heal, I¡¯m fairly confident.¡±


    Her hands were surprisingly strong and held him so he couldn¡¯t move his head. Not that he planned to ¡ª Nic was so still he didn¡¯t even dare breathe.


    She looked into his eyes, but not in a personal manner. She seemed to be searching for something. He had had his eyes changed by Winnum to help convince the doctor and her followers that he was indeed the one they were told to expect. She was checking to make sure the flames were gone.


    She released him and stepped back. ¡°You will be fine, I¡¯m sure. Given time.¡±


    Nic did not want to stay and convalesce. Even if there was some internal damage, he had very little faith in the doctor¡¯s intentions. In the end, she might take his head just to be on the safe side. She seemed the sort to wear belts and braces.


    He sat up again, slower this time, his eyes on Dr Wylian so he could avoid her firm grasp if she came at him. ¡°I¡¯m not staying here.¡±


    ¡°You must,¡± she said. ¡°You have to be kept under observation. As your doctor, I insist.¡±


    She had got what she wanted, the entity Winnum Roke had attached to him had been excised and isolated. It was stuck in an inescapable vault made of dragon hide and dead magic. But she wanted to make double and triple sure. She wanted to keep him here because what he wanted was of no interest to her or anyone else. He recognised the pattern.


    ¡°You aren¡¯t my doctor,¡± said Nic, with a cold confidence that even surprised him. ¡°I¡¯m not a student of this institution and your medical opinion is not binding. Or invited.¡± He slid off the bed and stood there, the shortest of the three and the least dressed. ¡°I¡¯m fine. And I have classes at school.¡±


    It was maybe an underwhelming reason to be rejecting her professional help, but it didn¡¯t matter. He had learned very early that some people were going to try to obstruct you just to show they could. His success in academia had produced many jealousies and petty rivalries, and the only way to deal with them was to call them out immediately. People expected you to dance around your options, like fighters probing for an opening. They didn¡¯t expect to have their bluff called before they even had a chance to place their bets.


    ¡°Archmage,¡± said Dr Wylian. ¡°Please instruct this young¡ª¡±


    ¡°He doesn¡¯t have any authority over me, either,¡± said Nic, focusing entirely on the doctor, letting her know he was willing to challenge her. ¡°And if he wishes to detain me here on your behalf, he will have to inform the Ministry of Instruction and the Secret Service, who are both keenly watching my activities. They¡¯ll want to speak to you, of course.¡± He let the surprise spread across Dr Wylian¡¯s face. She might not feel threatened by him, but would she welcome closer inspection by Ranvar¡¯s most inquisitorial departments? He suspected not.


    Nic turned to the Archmage. ¡°I don¡¯t think there¡¯s much more to tell. The High-Father pulled me in because I was the only one there. I don¡¯t know where the others went.¡± He knew the mages keeping vigil over the Father of Dragons had run off because of the explosion, but he had no idea what happened after that. The Archmage would be aware that Nic had been alone with the dragon, though.


    ¡°I think,¡± continued Nic, ¡°he wanted you to come find me, so you would know he was leaving, and maybe he knew about that¡­ other thing, and wanted to trap it. If he wanted me to pass on a message, he would have said, but he didn¡¯t.¡±


    It sounded plausible. Nic watched the Archmage for signs of acceptance of his version. For all Nic¡¯s bluster and warning of meddling by other departments, if the Archmage wished to keep Nic here, there wasn¡¯t really anything anyone else could do about it.


    They could put him in a straitjacket and mask, and leave him to rot in a tower while they waited for some demon or ghost to erupt from his body. Or not.


    Who would rescue him then? A passing fairytale prince? That would be his preference. Fairytale princesses, in his experience, were not that helpful.


    ¡°I want to go back to school and normality, if I can. I survived Arcanum poisoning and being used by demons for their sport. I¡¯d rather not sit around here to satisfy a doctor¡¯s curiosity. And if something were to occur, I¡¯m not sure what she would be able to do. She isn¡¯t even a mage.¡±


    He said it so offhandedly, ¡®not even a mage¡¯, like he was some expert on the matter.


    ¡°How do you know she isn¡¯t a mage?¡± asked the Archmage, his manner becoming more shrewd.


    A slip? Had he revealed he had met the doctor before. It didn¡¯t feel like that big of an error.


    ¡°I¡¯m perceptive,¡± he said, and moved on. ¡°If I recall something the High-Father said, I promise to let you know. Or just come interrogate me there. I have free periods Wednesdays and Fridays.¡±


    He didn¡¯t feel particularly defiant, but he¡¯d done his best impression. He waited for the Archmage to make his ruling. If it wasn¡¯t the one he hoped for, there wasn¡¯t really much he could do about it. Without Winnum, he was just a smart boy in a stupid situation.Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.


    A commotion rose in the hallways outside the room before the Archmage had a chance to speak.


    The commotion was loud and argumentative. And oddly familiar.


    There was a crack of something that sounded like a whip, only brighter. Light glimmered from under the door. Someone shrieked in pain and numerous thumps resounded against the other side of the wall.


    The door opened and Simole stood there, frowning. Dizzy pushed past her into the room, upgrading (or possibly downgrading) the situation with a scowl.


    It was a princess-rescue. Two of them. Nic looked at Dr Wylian and wondered if it might not be better to stay here with her. She might want to conduct an invasive investigation or two, but it would probably be less painful in the long run.


    ¡°Why are you here?¡± said Dizzy completely ignoring the persons of higher status in the room, higher than him and her.


    ¡°Father?¡± said Simole. ¡°Are you trying to perform a sense-evocation? Didn¡¯t you tell me they were illegal.¡±


    Despite being a hoarder of arcane knowledge, Nic didn¡¯t care to find out what a ¡®sense-evocation¡¯ was, but he strongly suspected the only reason Simole knew they were illegal was because she¡¯d wanted to perform one herself.


    ¡°I passed out,¡± said Nic. It sounded suitably pathetic, and therefore would be accepted without question.


    ¡°Don¡¯t talk such rot,¡± said Dizzy, too infuriated to be cowed by the company Nic was keeping this morning. ¡°You went off to talk to the dragon without us. You used us for the free ride, and then you dumped us and went off on another of your adventures.¡±


    Nic tried his best not to be amused. Dizzy¡¯s only concern was that he had attempted to pursue glory and renown without her. If only she had a better idea of what his adventuring comprised of. In truth, he preferred her to think of him as some reckless daredevil who threw himself into the arms of danger at every opportunity, even if it incensed her to the point of lunacy. The King himself could be standing next to him, and she would only have eyes for him. Mad, enraged eyes.


    The idea he would attack insurmountable jeopardy with foolhardy abandon was probably the only romantic notion she would ever hold towards him, and he wished to hang onto it.


    ¡°No,¡± said Nic. ¡°I just stumbled into it, as usual.¡± He knew, of course, that his casual dismissiveness of his own importance, honest as it was, would only convince her he was keeping some profound truth from her. She thought too much of him and nothing at all, both at the same time.


    ¡°Never mind that,¡± said Simole. ¡°What did you do to my dragon?¡±


    ¡°Nothing,¡± said Nic. He turned to Archmage van Dastan to step in and explain.


    ¡°Simole¡­¡±


    Simole switched targets without blinking. ¡°Did you kill him? Was it you?¡±


    ¡°No, no,¡± said the Archmage. It was strange seeing such a powerful man taken aback by a young girl¡¯s ferocity. Perhaps he was familiar enough with her moods to not want to provoke her further. Perhaps he was a father who was pained to see his daughter upset. ¡°The body may no longer be functioning, but the demon that once inhabited still exists, somewhere. Isn¡¯t that so?¡± He lobbed the hot potato back to Nic.


    ¡°Um, yes, I think so.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t care about the demon,¡± said Simole. ¡°I only care about my dragon.¡±


    ¡°The demon was the dragon,¡± said Nic. ¡°I mean, he was never really a dragon.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said Simole, firmly rejecting the idea. ¡°They aren¡¯t the same. Or if they were, they were two parts of a whole, and now only half is left. The rotten half. Give me back my dragon.¡±


    ¡°Or is there something else you aren¡¯t telling us,¡± broke in Dizzy. ¡°More secrets you¡¯re keeping to yourself?¡±


    Dr Wylian¡¯s offer of quiet rest and only a very slim possibility of decapitation was looking more and more appealing.


    ¡°I¡¯d like to get dressed now,¡± said Nic. He didn¡¯t really hold out much hope of anyone listening to him, but he felt he might as well put it out there.


    His clothes came flying at his face. They had been tucked under Dizzy¡¯s arm, a curious bundle he had noticed but had been too busy to question further. It meant they had been to Mallory¡¯s room first, and who knew where else. Tracking him down was becoming something of a full-time job for Dizzy. She probably didn¡¯t appreciate the unsocial hours and poor pay.


    Nic ducked before the shoes shot through the space his head had been a moment earlier. He had predicted they would.


    Dr Wylian watched all this go on with a bewildered look on her face. She had gone from someone trying to wrestle the situation to her advantage, to being completely lost and well down the pecking order when it came to proclaiming personal umbrage. It wasn¡¯t clear who was going to get their way here, but it was more than likely not going to be her.


    ¡°If you are returning to the school,¡± she said, slipping in between the chagrin and indignation, ¡°then I will ask my colleague Dr Gilleshpie to keep an eye on you. She is a competent general practitioner and will be able to tell if there is any kind of¡­ relapse.¡± She gave Nic a steady look of inspection, locking eyes with him. ¡°On the off-chance something does go awry, I will deal with it as painlessly as possible.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Doctor,¡± said the Archmage, ¡°your oversight would be greatly appreciated.¡±


    Nic wasn¡¯t quite so grateful, but it would be too difficult to explain why. He thanked the doctor and edged behind a curtain to get dressed. He had no qualms about putting on his clothes in front of the others, he just felt it might help them calm down if they didn¡¯t have him visible right in front of them.


    Once he was dressed, he did feel a little more confident. It would at least be a little easier to make a run for it, if required.


    He wanted to ask about Mallory, but it would raise too many questions and probably incite Dizzy to new suspicions. He hoped he hadn¡¯t died in the blast he had created. Nic believed Mallory had truly regretted his part in Nic¡¯s abduction, a momentary lapse of judgement driven by temptation. He had helped as best he could to get Nic free, and for that he was grateful. It was probably best to let the matter rest there.


    ¡°I¡¯m ready,¡± he said as he emerged from behind the curtain. ¡°Can we go?¡±


    It was both a heartfelt plea and a request for clarification. Would he be allowed his freedom or not?


    ¡°Yes, the carriage is ready,¡± said the Archmage. ¡°It would be best if you don¡¯t dally any longer. I have been summoned to the palace, no doubt to explain what has been going on with their dragons. The invite was very insistent. Once I have dealt with the matter and made some investigations of my own, I may call on you at Ransom.¡±


    Nic nodded. It wasn¡¯t like he had much choice in the matter. Now it was down to what the High-Father was planning and who was going to help him. With Winnum Roke a spectator inside a dead dragon, Nic¡¯s role was going to be severely curtailed. They would monitor him from afar, just in case someone else decided to use him as their personal transport from A to B, but otherwise he would be like any other bystander watching events unfold. Not that Dizzy would believe it.


    Dr Wylian gave him a number of symptoms to look out for ¡ª dizziness, eye pain, hearing voices ¡ª and instructions to contact Dr Gilleshpie as soon as anything untoward happened.


    Judging by the distrustful look she gave him, she didn¡¯t expect him to comply, but she wanted him to know where to go if things turned so desperate even he saw the merit in her zero-tolerance approach. If they only turned mildly desperate, he expected she would arrange other means to reach him by, that he wouldn¡¯t be required to participate in. Not voluntarily, anyway.


    It was still early, only just past eight. Leaving now, they would miss the first class of the day, but they¡¯d be able to make it for the rest of the day¡¯s lessons. The carriage, the same one that had brought them, was waiting in the courtyard next to the main gate. The driver didn¡¯t seem perturbed to be within the Royal College¡¯s walls, although the two horses seemed to eye the student mages with some animus, snorting and stamping if any dared approach.


    The High-Father¡¯s vacated corpse was sitting just as he¡¯d first seen it, still and quiet. It could have been sleeping. Was Winnum able to watch him through the lidded eyes?


    Simole insisted they wait while she went and spoke to the inanimate leviathan. She whispered into its ear and stroked the longs snout resting on the ground. She returned a little tearful, but with her lips set in a straight line.


    It wasn¡¯t until they were in the carriage and had passed out of the College¡¯s gates that Nic was able to breathe properly again. He had managed to survive an ordeal he didn¡¯t even really know why he had undertaken. There seemed to be an urge to come here, to face the High-Father together with Winnum, but now it seemed like a passing whim. At least he was free of Winnum Roke at last. Although, he felt like the separation had been foisted on him.


    It was done, though. He was on his own.


    Dizzy and Simole glared at him from the seats opposite, each for their own reason, neither of which he felt was justified.


    Not quite on his own, yet, but perhaps soon.


    ¡°And what have you learned from this lesson?¡± asked a cool, amused voice in his head.


    Nic had to fight to keep the surprise from showing on his face. He hunkered down, his head to the side, looking out of the window at the streets of the city clattering by.


    ¡°You¡¯re still here?¡± he said in his mind, careful to not let the words leak out from his lips. ¡°The Archmage said¡ª¡±


    ¡°That amateur. He would need a thousand-year head start to catch up with me, not a thousand-year handicap. He has even more to learn than you do. You, at least, aren¡¯t weighed down with unwarranted certainty. He saw what he expected to see.¡±


    ¡°And the High-Father? Where did he go?¡±


    ¡°Where he will,¡± she answered coyly. Did that mean she knew? ¡°I have no doubt you will see him again, when he thinks it will be to his advantage.¡±


    Nic wasn¡¯t sure that would ever be the case. What possible advantage could he give anyone?


    ¡°And how would you rate the success of your late night sojourn?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t expect it to succeed,¡± said Nic, only realising it as he answered her. ¡°I expected to learn something from the failure.¡±


    ¡°I see. And did you?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Nic. ¡°He won¡¯t let you keep the door closed. He is stronger than you, but he is hampered by trying to keep his word, while you have no such restrictions. But you are only one ¡ª less than that really ¡ª and you have no allies to depend on.¡±


    ¡°I have you,¡± said Winnum.


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Nic. ¡°That¡¯s the problem.¡±


    ¡°You are energetic and a quick study, and your friends are always ready to come to your aid. Perhaps you will be the salvation of mankind.¡±


    She was mocking him, but that was okay. He had no illusions about himself ¡ª his willingness to see where this road would lead was naive, his hopes for a positive outcome rash, and for all his studying, his ignorance of the way the world worked bordered on staggering. But her words were undermined by her presence. For all his failings, she had nowhere better to go, otherwise she would have gone there.


    He would, at least, get to see how things culminated. Perhaps he would write a book about it. He smiled to himself. To finally experience the world first-hand, only to record it for others to read about.


    ¡°What is it?¡± said Dizzy. He looked up to find her scrutinizing him. ¡°What are you doing?¡±


    ¡°Nothing,¡± he said, sounding defensive, but how could he not? She had turned on him so that she wouldn¡¯t have to deal with him as anything more than an adversary. It was probably time to let her¡ª


    ¡°So, it begins,¡± said Winnum.


    ¡°What does?¡± said Nic.


    ¡°What?¡± said Dizzy. ¡°Who are you talking to?¡±


    He had spoken aloud, but now was not the time to explain himself. He raised a hand to tell her to be quiet, which would rile her but she would know he wouldn¡¯t provoke her so blatantly without reason. She would acquiesce, but subject him to her ire later, and fourfold.


    ¡°What is it?¡± he said.


    ¡°They have blocked the road up ahead and await your arrival.¡±


    ¡°Who?¡±


    ¡°See for yourself.¡±


    His vision darkened like he¡¯d been struck blind, and then he saw two carriages across the wide road that led from the capital to the school and beyond. Men were lined up, armed and listless. They didn¡¯t expect this to be a difficult task. The carriages had a familiar black liver; the same as the carriage they were in.


    ¡°The Ministry of Instruction has set up a roadblock,¡± said Nic. ¡°Is there another way to the school?¡±


    Dizzy looked like she wanted to say something, but she spun around, going from seated to kneeling. She slid open a flap that Nic hadn¡¯t even noticed, so well was it integrated into the interior design, and the noise of thundering hooves filled the carriage.


    ¡°Jacob, is there a blockade up ahead?¡±


    There was a pause. ¡°Yes, mistress. About a kilometre. Ministry men. Not ours.¡±


    Jacob had excellent eyesight, or some other means of seeing across vast distances.


    ¡°Take an alternate route.¡±


    She turned and sat again, just in time for the sudden lurch sideways as the carriage veered off the main thoroughfare onto what had to be a rarely used side road. They bounced and shook, but didn¡¯t slow.


    ¡°Why are we running?¡± asked Simole. ¡°I could just sweep them out of the way.¡±


    ¡°They would be ready for you,¡± said Nic. He wasn¡¯t sure how, but he had no doubt they would have something planned.


    ¡°Yes? And I would be ready for them.¡±


    Simole¡¯s confidence wasn¡¯t entirely unfounded, but Nic didn¡¯t want to get caught in the crossfire. He was far from ready, for any of this.


    The only place he felt safe was the school. There would be observers there, and interested parties. His greatest protection from those interested in him were all the others also interested in him. No one would allow him to be taken as the sole property of one department, so they let him be and watched him in his pseudo-natural environment, like a zoo animal. If he could get to the school, he would have a much better chance of remaining unmolested. But the school was an hour away, and even further now that they had taken a detour.


    The carriage came to a shuddering halt.


    ¡°Out,¡± said Dizzy, throwing open the door and leaping without waiting for a discussion. The other two followed.


    ¡°If they catch you,¡± Dizzy was saying to the driver, ¡°tell them the truth, where you dropped us, my orders, all of it.¡±


    ¡°Yes, mistress,¡± said the driver. Then he snapped his reins and the carriage drove away in a cloud of dust and dead leaves.


    They were standing beside a barely visible track, surrounded by fields and forests.


    ¡°The main road curves around,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°We can cut through here and get to the school in half the distance.¡±


    Half the distance, but double the time if they were on foot.


    ¡°We¡¯re walking up there?¡± said Simole. The ground was uneven and rocky, and rose steeply. ¡°My shoes will be ruined.¡± She took off her shoes and scrunched up her bare feet.


    ¡°Isn¡¯t there¡ª¡± began Nic, but stopped when Dizzy pulled him aside.


    ¡°The exercise will do you good. It¡¯s this sort of things you¡¯ve been training for, so it should be much easier than it would be. You can use the time to answer a few questions I have.¡± She let him go and set off. ¡°Come on. We don¡¯t want them to catch up.¡±


    Simole swung her shoes over her shoulder, laces tied, and followed.


    Nic looked back down the track. No sign of pursuit. Maybe he should wait and turn himself in.


    ¡°Hurry up!¡± shouted Dizzy.


    ¡°I like her,¡± said Winnum. ¡°She¡¯s got a lot of spunk.¡±


    ¡°Do you want to transfer to her?¡± asked Nic. Now that he thought about it, maybe that would solve everything.


    ¡°Oh, no. She¡¯s clearly a nightmare to live with. You better get moving, you¡¯ll never impress her by dawdling.¡±


    Her words struck him as true. It wasn¡¯t Dizzy he wasn¡¯t impressing though, it was himself. He wasn¡¯t thinking, he was just reacting, and that was not an efficient way to deal with a situation.


    He looked around to get his bearings. If the school was in the direction Dizzy was heading, then¡­


    ¡°This way,¡± he said to the girls who were already halfway up the slope. He pointed to the left and began walking that way.


    ¡°The school¡¯s over here,¡± Dizzy shouted down.


    ¡°I know. But if they find out the driver dropped us here, they¡¯ll go that route. Hammersham¡¯s this way.¡±


    ¡°Hammer-what?¡± said Simole. Neither girl was following him, although they had both stopped.


    ¡°Hammersham. It¡¯s the village the school gets their vegetables from. If we hurry we might be able to get a lift with the lunchtime delivery.¡±


    He kept walking. He heard them coming after him.

 Book 2: Chapter Thirteen

    Gigantic trees with hard white trunks rose around them, creating a feeling of walls beyond walls. This place was called the Jade Forest, not because of the greenness of the foliage, which was indeed very green, but because of the effect it had on the light. Yellow sunlight streamed in through the canopy and was instantly transformed into emerald beams that shifted and danced in complex patterns as the branches above swayed in the wind.


    It was a bright and uplifting experience to walk through the forest¡¯s domain. No gloomy shadows where beasts might lurk or rotting plants fermented. The whiteness of the bark was bathed in cheerful, sparkling green light.


    ¡°This is a very weird place,¡± said Simole. ¡°I feel like I should be skipping.¡± She placed her bare feet on the protruding white roots of a large tree and plucked a white flower from the ivy that ran up the trunk.


    ¡°How far would you say the village is?¡± said Dizzy. She was keeping pace with Nic and had to keep stopping to let him catch up.


    ¡°Hammersham?¡± said Nic, even though there was no other village she might be referring to. ¡°I¡¯m not sure. 2 km?¡±


    ¡°I make it 2.6,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°And how long do you think it will take us to get there at our current speed? The limiting factor being the person who is the slowest, obviously.¡±


    Nic walked past her without needing to check where she was looking when she said that. ¡°The terrain doesn¡¯t allow for swift movement.¡±


    The ground was hilly, full of slopes bestrewn with exposed tree roots. Running would guarantee tripping.


    ¡°Your movement, perhaps, but that isn¡¯t something we can do anything about,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°Not right now, in any case. You have to make the best of the hand you¡¯re dealt. How long?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d guess, maybe an hour?¡±


    ¡°An hour. A little optimistic. I¡¯d say, two hours and twenty minutes.¡±


    ¡°Okay,¡± said Nic, not seeing why it would matter. It wasn¡¯t like they were in a race. The people they were doing their utmost to avoid would either have the means to catch them or not. First, they would have to figure out where their targets were headed, which was the real limiting factor. If they knew that, they would probably be waiting for them in Hammersham, and getting there quicker would only mean being apprehended sooner. ¡°We should still be able to get to Ransom by lunchtime, assuming we can hitch a ride.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m still not sure why we¡¯re avoiding them,¡± said Simole, from up ahead. She had been behind, looking at flowers a moment ago. Now she was standing in a cascade of rotating viridian beams, wearing a crown of white blossoms. ¡°They probably just want to ask a few questions. What¡¯s going on? What are you up to? What makes a boy like you so special? The same things we all wonder.¡± She jumped into the air and vanished. And then reappeared in the same spot with a handful of purple leaves ¡ª not magic, just the play of light in the woods. She opened her hand and the leaves flew away. Not leaves.


    ¡°I can¡¯t quite explain it,¡± said Nic, ¡°but it¡¯s more than that. They want to investigate more thoroughly than pose a few questions. They want to do it out of sight of the other departments, which can¡¯t be a good thing. Do you know who¡¯s in charge of your father¡¯s old department?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°He was training a number of people for the role. One of them probably. Two hours and twenty minutes,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°I think that¡¯s ample time for you to go over everything that¡¯s happened to you since you arrived at Ransom. Not everything, just the salient points.¡±


    ¡°Salient?¡± said Nic.


    ¡°Salient to me,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°You know me so well, just narrow it down to what you think I would like to know but you¡¯d rather I didn¡¯t.¡±


    Nic could see her point. She had been left in the dark for most of what had happened and now, here she was with time to kill and the boy with all the answers. If only.


    ¡°It would slow us down if I had to stop and summarise everything.¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t walk and talk at the same time?¡± asked Dizzy. She was surprisingly calm, which was worrying.


    ¡°I can, but I¡¯m trying to focus my breathing and regulate my pace, like you taught me. I¡¯m still getting used to it.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps I should carry you on my back,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°Or in my arms.¡±


    Nic stopped. It wasn¡¯t really fair to not tell her what the situation was. She was involved, she had a right to know. Once he told her, she would be in a better place to make a decision as to what she would be willing to do, and not to do.


    He realised he didn¡¯t want to do that. He wanted her to need answers.


    ¡°It was your idea to come,¡± said Nic. ¡°I didn¡¯t ask you. You can always¡ª¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°Don¡¯t even. My father died because of whatever this is. You were there when he died. You think me being here is a choice? You think playing the mysterious hero is going to work on me? Considering how well you know me, it wouldn¡¯t surprise me if the only reason you allowed yourself to get involved with any of this was because you knew it would appeal to my sense of outrage and injustice. Throw yourself into the raging inferno and watch eager little Dizzy rush to join you. Was that why you dragged my father into the inferno with you?¡±


    She hadn¡¯t spoken very loudly, but the intensity of her words hit him like hailstones.


    ¡°No. I didn¡¯t plan any of that.¡±


    ¡°Plan, no. But take advantage of an opportunity ¡ª isn¡¯t that your speciality?¡±


    Had he done that? Certainly, he knew her well enough to know how attractive his predicament would be to someone with her proclivities. Maybe not consciously, but as a way to leave a little bait on the line while he dealt with other matters? It wasn¡¯t entirely unfeasible.


    ¡°Think a lot of yourself, don¡¯t you?¡± said Simole, standing beside Dizzy. How had she moved so far and so quickly without being noticed? Another trick of the light? ¡°To think he would manipulate the end of the world just to get you to notice him. What kind of a madman would risk so much for a little attention? From you, of all people.¡±


    ¡°I think you¡¯re missing the point,¡± said Dizzy, not rising to Simole¡¯s own baiting. ¡°It isn¡¯t that he would do something so reckless, it¡¯s that whatever he did, it worked. Here I am, after I made the firm and final decision to stick to my own path. I don¡¯t like to be manipulated. I like it even less when I had no idea it was happening. Frankly, I¡¯m embarrassed it¡¯s taken me this long to realise. But now that I am aware of my failure, I don¡¯t intend to compound it by pretending I¡¯m still in control of my own destiny.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t¡ª¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t insult my intelligence, Nic. Whether or not I was manoeuvred into this position isn¡¯t up for debate. Who is behind it is what I¡¯m asking. If it isn¡¯t you, then who? And if you don¡¯t know, then I think it¡¯s only right you reveal what you do know so that others with a sharper, more objective outlook can make sense of what you can¡¯t.¡±


    Nic found her argument compelling. If he had a full understanding of the situation, then he would be well within his rights to pick and choose what he revealed to her. It would be for a considered choice on his part. But since he didn¡¯t have a full understanding, he wasn¡¯t doing her any favours. His silence was as likely to hurt as protect.


    ¡°I have Winnum Roke inside me,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°We know that. A repository of all her knowledge which would have helped you cheat your way to top place in the next school exams if the Archmage hadn¡¯t removed it.¡±


    ¡°Not really. A lot of her knowledge is a thousand years out of date.¡± He waited for Winnum Roke to comment, but she remained silent. He felt a twinge in his temple but that could have been for unrelated reasons. ¡°And I said have, not had.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s still there?¡± asked Simole.


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°But my father¡ª¡±


    ¡°Was wrong,¡± said Nic. ¡°Or he wanted me to think so. I don¡¯t know what he really wants. I think he¡¯s more likely to align himself with the High-Father than¡­¡± He wasn¡¯t sure how to put it.


    ¡°Than humanity?¡± said Simole, finding the words for him.


    ¡°Maybe. I¡¯m not sure. Really, it¡¯s very hard for me to keep track.¡±


    ¡°So, she can still take control of you,¡± said Dizzy.


    ¡°No. I told you, she can¡¯t do that.¡±


    ¡°According to her,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°You don¡¯t know what she¡¯s really¡ª¡± She stopped mid-sentence and scowled.


    ¡°What?¡± said Nic.


    ¡°Your eyes. Why are they red?¡±


    ¡°Oh, yes,¡± said Simole, leaning to get a better look. ¡°Are you going to shoot fire out of them?¡±


    Nic tuned away, blinking and wiping his eyes. ¡°Stop it,¡± he mumbled. ¡°It¡¯s just cosmetic. She does it to annoy me.¡±


    ¡°She passes the test,¡± said Simole. ¡°Tell her she can be part of the gang.¡±


    ¡°This only proves what I¡¯ve been saying,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°You don¡¯t know what she can do. What else, Nic? What else are you keeping from me?¡±


    ¡°Nothing. If you¡¯re being manipulated into this situation, so am I. It would be flattering to think I was capable of such immense duplicity, but I have a long way to go before I graduate to that level of control over a situation. Over any situation.¡±


    Dizzy nodded, and then threw a punch.


    Nic dodged, leaning back and almost losing his balance. He stumbled but remained upright.


    ¡°What are you¡ª¡± He couldn¡¯t finish before a low leg sweep came in as Dizzy crouched and spun all in one motion. He had to leap out of the way.


    ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± said Dizzy, rising and switching to a high kick. ¡°We are both being targeted. We are both the limiting factor, here. Simole is the only capable one, and we are holding her back.¡± Her leg came down sharply, missing Nic¡¯s ear by a fraction. ¡°We need to be better, train harder, act quicker.¡±


    ¡°This isn¡¯t training,¡± shouted Nic as he stumbled backwards. ¡°You¡¯re trying to kill me.¡±


    ¡°You won¡¯t improve without serious incentive, Nic. I need to stimulate your adrenal response. Can you feel the stimulation, Nic?¡±


    Dizzy twisted left, then right, using the momentum to corkscrew her body into a driving right-hand punch aimed at Nic¡¯s sternum.


    Nic raised his hands to block but she was already shifting her weight to go in low with her left fist, probably aiming to crack a rib or two. He had anticipated the feint and ducked to his left.


    ¡°Use the opening!¡± shouted Simole.


    His unexpected move had put him on her right with her arm pulled back, leaving him with a clear shot at her midriff. He instinctively lashed out and felt his fist connect with her chest. It was soft and his hand sank in. His eyes widened as he realised where he had hit her.


    Dizzy let out a strangled, ¡°Oof,¡± and fell back.


    Simole began to scream, with laughter. ¡°I can¡¯t believe it¡­ You finally got to touch her in an intimate place, and you punched her in the tit.¡± She fell on the floor and howled. ¡°Enemies!¡± she managed to call out in between gasping for air. ¡°If you¡¯re out there, attack now. I¡¯m helpless. Helpless!¡± She went back to rolling around on the floor.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± said Nic, horrified at what he¡¯d done, and where he¡¯d done it.


    Dizzy looked up at him, one hand holding her breast, her hair fallen across her face and her eyes ringed with shade that was entirely naturally produced.


    ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± she hissed. ¡°It¡¯ll just be a small bruise.¡±


    He reached out his hand to help her up but she slapped it away.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± he said again. He felt like he should keep saying it, but that would only annoy her more.


    ¡°You won¡¯t know your real enemies as well as you know me. You won¡¯t be able to predict their moves and get in a lucky hit.¡±


    ¡°Lucky hit,¡± said Simole, wiping the tears from her eyes. ¡°So lucky. You two are priceless.¡±


    Nic looked at Simole weeping with laughter. She was taking all this in her stride, maybe even enjoying being part of momentous events that left him feeling out of his depth and utterly inadequate. He noticed how her hair was much darker than Dizzy¡¯s, but the strip at the back was streaked with blue and red. People would know who she was, recognise her in a crowd.


    ¡°Why are you staring at her?¡± said Dizzy.Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°You were. You were staring at her hair. Do you like her hair?¡±


    ¡°Yes. I mean, it¡¯s interesting.¡±


    ¡°I see,¡± said Dizzy. She began walking, roughly rubbing her right breast.


    Simole got up breathless and headed after Dizzy, flicking her hair as she walked past Nic.


    They carried on towards the village of Hammersham, with Nic and Dizzy unable to look at each other, and Simole sniggering to herself.


    They exited the forest and the light sank to a drab grey by comparison to the Jade Forest. Farmland appeared before them, stretching in all directions. Not flat and well organised, these were crops sewn on hills and slopes, mottled hues of green and mud. Ranvar was not famed for its agriculture. The land was not very fertile and most of the produce consumed by the population was imported from their neighbours.


    Nic took it all in at once, everything in sharp focus. He saw people, he saw plants, he saw the village not very far, a collection of a dozen or so buildings, their pointed roofs nestled together, he saw it with total clarity.


    ¡°Are they here?¡± said Nic. ¡°I don¡¯t see them.¡±


    Simole closed her eyes for a moment. ¡°I don¡¯t think so, but I¡¯m not that skilled at surveillance. I specialise more in seek and destroy.¡±


    ¡°You should straighten your jacket,¡± Simole said to Dizzy. ¡°You don¡¯t want people staring.¡±


    ¡°Staring at what?¡± said Dizzy.


    Simole pointed at Dizzy¡¯s chest. ¡°The swelling. It makes one bigger than the other.¡±


    Nic followed Simole¡¯s finger, and his pinpoint vision revealed the contours of Dizzy¡¯s body in explicit detail. Simole was right, there was a slight unevenness now.


    Dizzy looked down at herself and then back at Simole. ¡°Shut up. And where are you looking?¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡± said Nic. ¡°I wasn¡¯t¡­ I mean nowhere. She pointed it out.¡± He turned to point at Simole.


    ¡°Don¡¯t blame me for your lecherous male libido,¡± said Simole. ¡°Hey, why don¡¯t you even them out? Punch her in the other one.¡±


    Simole¡¯s unwelcome laughter accompanied them as they walked down the flat and dusty road, with tracks running in grooves to indicate the frequent carts that travelled this route.


    The square in the middle of the village had a small fountain, a plain block gurgling water, as a centrepiece with a basin that allowed easy access for animals to drink from. There were stone benches scattered about but no sign of any people or wagons.


    ¡°I hope we aren¡¯t too late,¡± said Nic. He had spent quite a lot of time researching Ransom¡¯s surroundings before he first came to the school. He knew what the land around the school looked like and what purpose it served.


    There were numerous small villages that relied on the school for their livelihood, providing food and supplies as Hammersham did. Nic had often seen deliveries arrive at the school, the wagons often carrying the name of the company they belonged to, and incorporating their home location.


    Hammersham supplied mainly vegetables. The daily delivery usually reached the school by eleven in the morning. It was past nine already. It had taken a little over an hour to get here thanks to Nic¡¯s eagerness not to fall behind and have to face Dizzy.


    ¡°Looks like we¡¯re right on time,¡± said Simole as a loaded cart came trundling down another road and stopped outside the tavern. The rider, a middle-aged man with a limp, tied the horse to a hitching post and went inside.


    ¡°He might not be going to the school,¡± said Dizzy.


    ¡°Everything from here goes to the school,¡± said Nic. ¡°Ransom is an integral part of this region¡¯s economy. The larger towns and cities get all their food from abroad.¡±


    ¡°So you¡¯re saying they should feel grateful to us and give us a free ride anywhere we want?¡± said Simole.


    ¡°I hope so.¡± Nic looked at the cart which had wooden crates stacked on top of each other. He sniffed the air. ¡°Carrots.¡±


    ¡°You can smell vegetables at a distance now?¡± said Dizzy. ¡°What other powers do you have?¡± Her tone was mocking, which made Nic feel a little irritated. Not with her, she was well within her rights to mock him. He was more irked by these strange, pointless changes he was undergoing. Why couldn¡¯t he have access to something useful?


    ¡°Ignore her,¡± said Simole. ¡°She¡¯s only jealous of people like us. We¡¯re special, Nic. I can create fireballs and level castle walls with a thought, and you can sniff out carrots at fifty paces. The world fears what it doesn¡¯t understand.¡± She grinned at him.


    Dizzy shook her head slowly. ¡°She¡¯s right, I am jealous. I just wish you¡¯d give me something to justify the way I feel. Carrots.¡±


    ¡°Is it really necessary to belittle me at every opportunity?¡± said Nic.


    ¡°We¡¯re not belittling you,¡± said Simole. ¡°We¡¯re keeping you grounded.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± said Nic. ¡°I¡¯m already on the ground.¡±


    ¡°For now, maybe,¡± said Simole.


    ¡°And who¡¯s going to keep you grounded, Simole?¡± said Nic.


    ¡°You are,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯m tethered to you, aren¡¯t I?¡±


    ¡°You were,¡± said Nic. ¡°Not anymore.¡±


    ¡°No?¡± said Simole, smiling. ¡°Whatever it is you¡¯re going through, Nic, you are still changing, I can tell. Today it¡¯s a sensitivity to carrots but tomorrow, who knows, maybe parsnips.¡±


    ¡°There are countries whose whole economies are dependent on potato crops,¡± said Dizzy.


    ¡°Exactly,¡± said Simole. ¡°You¡¯d be a god there.¡± She was enjoying herself so much, he didn¡¯t have the heart to stop her. Not that he knew how. ¡°You don¡¯t know when this new power of his might come in handy. What else can you smell, Nic?¡±


    Nic took in another breath through his nose, and caught another scent. ¡°Spirits.¡±


    ¡°You can smell ghosts?¡± said Dizzy.


    ¡°No,¡± said Nic. ¡°Alcohol.¡±


    Nic left them and headed into the tavern, which was called ¡°The Hammer and Horse¡±. It was bright and clean inside, and a welcome respite from having to listen to two girls amuse themselves at his expense.


    A small throng of villagers was gathered around the bar and didn¡¯t pay attention to the new arrival. Nic tried to spot the cart driver who had just entered. He was their best chance of getting a lift to the school, otherwise it would be a long walk with two mean girls. It would be a grim journey.


    ¡°A sheep faces a hungry wolf,¡± said the barman. ¡°The sheep offers the wolf her lamb to sate his hunger. Is she wise or is she evil?¡±


    The patrons, each with a drink in hand, made their opinions known all at once until one said, ¡°She¡¯s probably next on the menu, the daft bint,¡± and they all fell about laughing. Everyone was having a good time today.


    ¡°Ah, looks like we have guests,¡± said the barman, a thick-set man with heavily-veined hands which he used to push his customers aside. ¡°Come in, come in. Not seen you here before. Welcome, welcome to the historic village of Hammersham, young master. Famed for our root vegetables, the like and size you won¡¯t have seen before, I¡¯d be willing to wager.¡±


    The group at the bar had turned around to look at him, which made Nic slightly uncomfortable. He smiled and nodded. ¡°Good morning.¡±


    They were all men, all with a slightly grubby, dusty look to them. Nic¡¯s understanding of farming was that you woke early and worked until the sun went down. He wasn¡¯t sure what roles these men played, but they didn¡¯t appear to be in any great hurry to get back to the fields. Perhaps they had finished for the day.


    None of the men said anything. They weren¡¯t being hostile, as far as Nic could tell, just mildly curious and maybe a little drunk. Then their demeanour changed. Nic sensed the two girls enter from behind him, and the men stood a little straighter, their glazed eyes clearing.


    ¡°We¡¯re from Ransom,¡± said Nic. ¡°The school.¡±


    ¡°Oh, yes?¡± said the barman, who had apparently been made the designated speaker for the group. ¡°And what might you be doing all the way out here?¡±


    ¡°We were travelling back from the capital,¡± said Nic, ¡°and our carriage had an issue. We need to get back to the school and I saw there was a cart outside. Is it headed for the school? I know you make deliveries there.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right, that¡¯s right,¡± said the barman. ¡°You¡¯ll have to ask Old Mecky, here.¡± He jerked his thumb to the right and the patrons on that side parted to reveal the driver eating at the bar, stuffing food into his face. ¡°He¡¯s a bit of a miserable bastard, so he¡¯ll probably tell you to sling your hook. Hey, Mecky, some kids looking for a lift to the school.¡±


    Old Mecky looked up and took in the three at the door. He didn¡¯t seem that old, although his face was decidedly miserable. ¡°I don¡¯t deliver kids, just carrots.¡± He went back to eating.


    ¡°I told you,¡± said the barman. ¡°Can I get you a drink? Something to eat? Our cook is known for her fine cuisine.¡±


    The men laughed at some private joke. The food the driver was eating looked delicious, and made Nic¡¯s stomach growl.


    ¡°I¡¯ll take care of this,¡± said Simole, stepping up to the bar.


    Nic wasn¡¯t sure if he should stop her. What was she planning to do, and how much damage would it cause? These people didn¡¯t deserve to have their lives disrupted because of matters that had nothing to do with them. Then again, neither did Nic.


    ¡°Here.¡± Simole put some coins on the bar. ¡°We¡¯ll pay for a ride.¡±


    She was using the other form of power in Ranvar ¡ª money.


    Mecky looked at her and turned and spat on the floor. ¡°Keep it. I transport what I want. Sling your hook.¡±


    The barman rolled his eyes. ¡°Ignore him. Life has been unkind, so now he does likewise to others. There¡¯ll be another wagon along in a bit, Radlinski and his turnips, you¡¯ll probably do better asking him.¡±


    ¡°When?¡± asked Nic.


    ¡°Couple of hours,¡± said the barman.


    They could walk or they could wait. Neither was ideal.


    As Nic pondered the options, Dizzy walked to the bar and sat on a stool. ¡°Can we have three breakfasts and something to drink? Anything without alcohol in it.¡±


    ¡°You should try the beer, then,¡± said one of the men. His fellow patrons burst into raucous laughter.


    ¡°Hey, now,¡± said the barman. ¡°That¡¯s not fair. I have feelings, you know. There¡¯s no call for that sort of thing.¡± Then he turned around and shouted through an opening in the wall. ¡°Hey! Three more breakfasts, and make it quick you fat-arsed dolt.¡± He turned back to Dizzy with a smile. ¡°Won¡¯t be long.¡±


    Simole slid one of her coins across the bar, which the barman scooped up.


    ¡°Travelling from the capital were you?¡± said the barman. ¡°Quite the detour you must have taken to end up here.¡±


    ¡°We walked through the Jade Forest,¡± said Nic. ¡°It was the most direct route.


    ¡°Aye, that it is,¡± said the barman. ¡°But dangerous, what with all the beasts running around in there.¡±


    ¡°What beasts?¡± asked Nic.


    ¡°Oh, many different types. It¡¯s the carnivorous spiders you have to watch out for, mostly. Been known to jump down from the branches onto the necks of their prey and gnaw into their veins, instantly drowning in blood.¡±


    ¡°Suicidal spiders?¡± said Simole.


    ¡°No such creature exists,¡± said Dizzy.


    ¡°It does, actually,¡± said Nic. ¡°I didn¡¯t realise they appeared this far south, though.¡±


    ¡°See, he knows. Good thing you had him there to protect you.¡±


    ¡°Yes, very lucky,¡± said Dizzy. She adjusted her jacket with a wince.


    Simole tapped the coins on the top of the bar and returned her attention to Old Mecky, who was still eating.


    ¡°You sure you won¡¯t change your mind? You won¡¯t help three lost lambs? Don¡¯t you have children of your own?¡±


    There was a gasp from the gathering.


    Old Mecky put down his cutlery, his plate still half full, and looked at the barman. ¡°I¡¯m going to the john, and then, after I¡¯ve had a nice long shit, I¡¯ll be off. Put my meal on my tab.¡± He turned and stalked off. He seemed upset.


    ¡°What?¡± said Simole, looking around and settling on the barman.


    ¡°You¡¯ve hit on a bit of a sore point, there. Not a subject that will help you win over Old Mecky.¡±


    ¡°No? Why not?¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± said the barman, ¡°I¡¯m not one to gossip or interfere in other people¡¯s business, but poor Mecky here has what we around here call a trollop for a wife. Sad, sad, sad.¡±


    ¡°Why is she a trollop?¡± asked Dizzy, in an icy tone that made Nic want to ask for his breakfast to go.


    ¡°It¡¯s all ancient history now,¡± said the barman, leaning across the bar, ¡°so I¡¯m sure he won¡¯t mind me telling you. Back before you youngsters were born, Old Mecky was a soldier, you see. Off to fight at the King¡¯s pleasure. Quite the fighter, our Mecky. Got himself badly injured, nearly died but they kept him alive using who knows what kind of sorcery ¡ª the army, they employ wizards, you know? ¡ª and came back after years of honourable service to find his wife round as a giant pumpkin. We¡¯re well-known for those around here ¡ª pumpkins, I mean.¡±


    ¡°Another man¡¯s child?¡± said Dizzy.


    ¡°Had to be, didn¡¯t it?¡± said the barman. ¡°He was off fighting on the front. Sad, sad, sad. Of course, that¡¯s not what she claimed. Said it was his child, that she¡¯d visited him in the field hospital when she heard he was at death¡¯s door. One last time, she¡¯d said. That¡¯s how it happened. But he was in no state to do something like that. And if he had, he¡¯d remember, wouldn¡¯t he?¡±


    ¡°What happened to the child?¡± asked Dizzy.


    ¡°Ah, even sadder. Miscarriage, poor thing. She never had another.¡±


    ¡°And they¡¯re still together?¡± asked Simole.


    ¡°Of course,¡± said the barman. ¡°Man of his word, our Mecky. If he says through sickness and health, he means it. Won¡¯t go back on a promise, no matter how miserable it makes him.¡±


    ¡°Did she stick to her story?¡± asked Nic.


    ¡°Always, and bitterly,¡± said the barman.


    ¡°She probably wasn¡¯t lying, then,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°Oh, and how do you figure he got her pregnant from his deathbed a hundred kilometres away?¡±


    ¡°She thought he was dying, she went to visit him,¡± said Nic. ¡°She must have dreaded losing him, probably because it would mean she would be left with nothing. What¡¯s the rest of the family like? Would they have taken her in and let her have what was his?¡±


    ¡°No, no. Not a generous soul among them, to be honest.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d guess she was the newest member of the family at the time, and not well-liked. She needed a child to make her their responsibility. She went to him, and found a way to, uh, arouse his passion, even if he was unaware of it. That kind of thing is possible, if you¡¯re determined enough, I think.¡± The men around him made noises of agreement. ¡°She might not have done it out of love, maybe it was purely selfish but she wasn¡¯t unfaithful. Just desperate.¡±


    ¡°Well, well, well,¡± said the barman. ¡°Quite the education they give you at that school.¡±


    The room fell silent as three plates of food slid through the hatch behind the bar.


    ¡°We¡¯ll need to go now if you¡¯re coming,¡± said Old Mecky, standing by the entrance. His face was no longer miserable, it was something else. Something less certain. He turned and left.


    Nic looked at the other two, and then hopped off the stool and rushed after him.


    The ride to school was uneventful and quiet. The driver didn¡¯t speak other than to occasionally offer his horse some word of encouragement.


    They sat on the lowered tailgate, rattling along with the rest of the cargo.


    ¡°Don¡¯t look so forlorn,¡± said Simole. ¡°There¡¯s so much to look forward to.¡±


    ¡°Is there?¡± said Nic. His gaze drifted to Dizzy on Simole¡¯s other side.


    ¡°You feel guilty for dragging her into this? Don¡¯t be. Doesn¡¯t it sometimes feel like the way you feel about her was forced on you?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Nic, surprised.


    ¡°Of course it was forced on you. Why would you choose to be miserable? Someone wanted you to like her.¡±


    ¡°Who?¡± said Nic.


    ¡°Who? Her, of course. She seduced you at five years old. Trollops come in all shapes and sizes. She did it to see if she could, and did a far better job of it than she intended. Overachiever.¡±


    ¡°I can hear you,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°And if you don¡¯t shut up, I¡¯m going to rip off both his arms and beat you to death with them.¡±


    ¡°Why my arms?¡± said Nic, feeling unjustly sentenced. ¡°I didn¡¯t do anything.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± said Simole, ¡°she¡¯s joking. She wouldn¡¯t really be able to beat me to death. Not with your puny arms.¡±


    Nic¡¯s head dropped forward. ¡°I will grow stronger, especially at running, so I can get away from both of you.¡±


    ¡°You were right,¡± said Simole. ¡°He just needed the right stimulus to motivate him.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯ll need a lot more than that,¡± said Dizzy.


    The road was moderately flat and straight, and the journey took about an hour. The school appeared in the distance, as did the small group of horses off to one side.


    It wasn¡¯t surprising that the ministry men would wait for them at the school gates. Rather than give chase, they merely had to let the three students come to them. But it was close enough to the school that the Secret Service would be aware of them, hopefully.


    The cart stopped and the three of them jumped off. The driver looked at Nic, didn¡¯t say anything, and then headed into the school. You didn¡¯t question men from the ministry. Any ministry, but particularly not this one.


    A man stepped forward, surprisingly young, but clearly in charge.


    ¡°Delzina, so nice to see you.¡±


    ¡°You know him?¡± asked Simole.


    ¡°Yes. He was one of my father¡¯s prot¨¦g¨¦s.¡±


    ¡°Yes. I am very sorry for your loss, my dear. I am Mol Carmine, acting-Minister for the Ministry of Instruction, and Delzina¡¯s fianc¨¦.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± said Nic.


    ¡°Oh,¡± said Simole. ¡°That¡¯s wonderful. Congratulations, Dizzy. You¡¯ve found the stimulation you were looking for.¡± She clapped her hands and grinned with delight.

 Book 2: Chapter Fourteen

    ¡°Is there something you want, Mr Carmine?¡± said Dizzy.


    It was not, Nic had to admit, a very affectionate way to address the man you loved, the man whose proposal you had accepted, the man you intended to raise a family with. She was looking at him with no emotion whatsoever.


    ¡°Um,¡± said Nic, raising a hand like he was in class, ¡°if you¡¯re here for Miss Delcroix, is it alright if we go ahead? We¡¯re late for class.¡±


    His request was ignored. The minister and Dizzy were locked in some kind of battle of nonchalance. Nic was not sure what their relationship was, but for some reason he was more curious than dismayed.


    Simole was the only one to notice Nic¡¯s raised hand. She grabbed him by the arm and pulled the arm down, giving it a squeeze at the same time. She looked disappointed in how Nic was handling the situation, or possibly in the size of his bicep.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± she said into Nic¡¯s ear, her lips practically touching his lobe. ¡°You can¡¯t leave. Look at him! He¡¯s your rival. Don¡¯t you feel your manliness rising to the surface?¡±


    ¡°Delzina,¡± said Minister Carmine, ¡°please, it¡¯s Mol.¡±


    ¡°Mr Carmine,¡± said Dizzy with civility and patience ¡ª this was going to go very badly, ¡°I¡¯d appreciate if you could get to the reason you¡¯re here. As the boy said, we are late for class.¡± Now he was ¡®the boy¡¯? At least she remembered he was there. ¡°What do you want, minister?¡±


    Oddly, she didn¡¯t sound annoyed or irritated, the way she did when she spoke to Nic. When speaking to her fianc¨¦, she sounded distracted, like she was already thinking about what she was going to do next. It was actually quite rude, even though her voice was perfectly courteous. The minister didn¡¯t seem to mind, though. Or was acting like he didn¡¯t.


    ¡°Now¡¯s your chance to win her heart,¡± whispered Simole. ¡°Challenge him to a duel.¡±


    Minister Carmine looked to be in excellent shape. A military man, Nic guessed. He was tall, his hair was pulled back from an aristocratic face, and his shoulders were broad. He had a sword at his side that didn¡¯t look like it was there for show. The scabbard was plenty scratched and scuffed, but it still looked well cared for ¡ª glossy and polished.


    ¡°Those books you read about romance and heroes and forbidden love,¡± Nic whispered back at Simole through the side of his mouth, ¡°they aren¡¯t historically accurate.¡±


    ¡°Men didn¡¯t use to duel over the love of a woman?¡± said Simole, sounding disappointed.


    ¡°No, they did. I mean the part where the weaker man finds a way to win because his love is true. That part never happened. The smaller, weaker, more in love man always died.¡±


    ¡°So you¡¯re going to give up?¡± said Simole.


    ¡°Give up what?¡± he snapped at Simole despite himself. ¡°I was never even in the race. Do you really think I imagined there wouldn¡¯t be others interested in her? The way she looks, her family background, her boundless spirit? Frankly, I¡¯m surprised there haven¡¯t been more, but she¡¯s still young and she has her natural defence against people who try to get too close to her.¡±


    ¡°You mean her personality?¡±


    ¡°Exactly,¡± said Nic, finding it encouraging to have someone recognise the situation for what it was for once. ¡°My only real advantage has been that I don¡¯t mind how mean and nasty she is.¡±


    ¡°I get it!¡± said Simole. ¡°That¡¯s why you always provoke her into saying terrible things. The more horrible she is, the less likely anyone else is to want her. Eventually, she¡¯ll be an old maid desperate for any kind of attention, and that¡¯s when you¡¯ll pounce, you wily old fox.¡± She slapped him on the shoulder with a cupped hand, which he pretended didn¡¯t hurt.


    ¡°It¡¯s not like I make her say terrible things.¡±


    ¡°No, no,¡± said Simole. ¡°I understand. You didn¡¯t create the monster, you just leave out raw lumps of bloody meat so the monster never goes hungry.¡±


    ¡°Well, I suppose you could put it like that, although¡ª¡±


    ¡°Ahem!¡±


    Nic turned towards the monster, or rather towards Dizzy, who was no longer talking to Minister Carmine. She was now looking at him like he was a lump of bloody meat.


    ¡°He isn¡¯t my fianc¨¦,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°That¡¯s just a joke my father would make to irritate me.¡±


    ¡°Oh, Delzina, no, no,¡± said Mol Carmine. ¡°I assure you, your father often spoke to me about how he saw you and I as the ideal couple. He was a very forward-thinking man. He had your future all planned out, and I was to be a key part of it.¡±


    ¡°Please don¡¯t interrupt when I¡¯m talking,¡± said Dizzy, glancing in the minister¡¯s direction for a fraction of a second. Then the full weight of her attention was back on Nic.


    Simole nudged Nic with her elbow. ¡°It¡¯s like you don¡¯t even have to try, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    There was no rancour in the way Dizzy was speaking to her prospective fianc¨¦ but it was all the more dismissive for it. She was treating him like his claim wasn¡¯t even worth considering.


    If she had reacted to Nic like that when he first arrived at the school, he probably would have packed his bags and left the same day. Which made him wonder why she hadn¡¯t. He quickly stamped down that kind of thinking. Hope was the greatest enemy to rational thinking.


    ¡°Okay, we¡¯ll leave you to it,¡± said Nic, trying to move away towards the school gate. Simole stood in his way, not trying to stop him, but not letting him by, either. He leaned into her shoulder to shove her aside, but she was immovable.


    ¡°Didn¡¯t I tell you not to go off without me?¡± said Dizzy, her eyes igniting now that she had turned towards him.


    Behind her, Minister Carmine seemed disappointed to have lost her attention. He didn¡¯t know how lucky he was.


    ¡°Ah, but class¡­¡± Nic pointed towards the school.


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°Wait.¡± She turned back to the minister, who didn¡¯t seem so sure of himself any longer. ¡°Mr Carmine, my father was indeed a forward-thinking man, but he also raised me to make my own decisions. The only choices he made on my behalf were those he expected me to challenge. If he wanted to put you forward as a suitor, it would only be to see how I would get out of it. I¡¯m sorry he used you like that, but I¡¯m sure it wasn¡¯t personal. The fact he found you useful at all is something you should cherish.¡±


    The men around Minister Carmine, large brutish soldiers of the Ministry for Instruction, intimate with countless forms of torture, looked uncomfortable and like they wished someone would sound the retreat.


    ¡°Delzina,¡± said Carmine with deliberate gentility, ¡°I can¡¯t say for certain what your father intended, you knew him better than I, there¡¯s no doubt about that, but I was at least someone he considered of appropriate standing to be matched with you. Can¡¯t you at least give me a chance to impress you? I feel no shame in admitting I have been smitten with you ever since we first met.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°I don¡¯t have the necessary emotional reaction to you.¡±


    ¡°Love can grow when two people are suitably aligned in their intentions,¡± said the minister with a depth of feeling Nic could only imagine he would come to regret.


    ¡°I¡¯m not talking about love,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°I¡¯m referring to respect.¡±


    The minister was a little taken aback. ¡°Then let me prove what I¡¯m capable of and then judge me. As the acting-minister, I plan to¡ª¡±


    ¡°You aren¡¯t listening,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°How you perform as a minister is irrelevant. My lack of respect for you is based on your interest in a girl half your age, not even finished with school.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s your objection?¡± The minister¡¯s face registered his confusion. ¡°But it is perfectly normal for a man to court a younger woman. It happens all the time.¡±


    ¡°For a man to be ¡®smitten¡¯ with a child, he must have a fear of women his own age, who might stand up to him. A young girl is easier to manage and dominate ¡ª the younger the better. I don¡¯t respect you because I consider you to be a coward, as all men who prey on young girls are. It is not love you seek, it is a victory, and an easy victory at that.¡±


    ¡°No, come on, really,¡± blustered the minister, his men shrinking away in their desire to not be present. ¡°You can¡¯t believe that. Do you really think I see you as someone easily dominated?¡±


    ¡°Easier than someone with all my traits but fully grown, wouldn¡¯t you say? If you wish to impress me, find a woman of firm convictions of your own age, and impress her. Lead by example. Choose the highest difficulty, not the easy option.¡±


    The minister seemed to grow paler. His men were still at his back, but they offered him no support.


    ¡°But the heart wants what it wants¡­¡± he said in a slightly strangled voice.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    ¡°That is poor justification for ignoring what is appropriate.¡± Dizzy turned around and walked towards Nic.


    Nic turned around and walked into Simole, immovable as ever.


    ¡°Where do you think you¡¯re going,¡± said Simole. ¡°This is just starting to get interesting. I think you¡¯re next for the chopping block.¡±


    Nic had been worried that the ministry would send someone capable of dealing with Simole ¡ª they knew her power and it would be foolish to take her on without some kind of plan ¡ª but it appeared Simole was not the one to be concerned about.


    Perhaps the minister did have a counter to Simole, but a counter that wasn¡¯t needed was just extra weight you had to carry. He didn¡¯t have a counter for Dizzy, that much was clear.


    ¡°Mr Tutt,¡± said Minister Carmine, pinching the bridge of his nose, his eyes closed, ¡°before you go, might I have a word?¡±


    Would he vent his frustration on Nic? Wouldn¡¯t that be preferable to having to suffer whatever Dizzy had in store for him?


    ¡°Yes, okay. In private?¡± he asked hopefully.


    ¡°Here is fine,¡± said the minister. Nic felt the man wasn¡¯t going to allow Nic the privilege of a private interrogation after his own public flogging. ¡°I understand you are returning from the Royal College. Could you elaborate on what happened to make you rush there in the middle of the night?¡±


    ¡°Oh, the Father of Dragons was dying. I expect all the other dragons will soon be dead, too.¡±


    Carmine lowered his hand and opened his eyes. ¡°How did you know about the High-Father?¡±


    Nic suddenly couldn¡¯t recall what lie he was currently standing behind. He went for the vaguest possible explanation. ¡°I have a link to him, or I used to. It¡¯s gone now. He is no longer in the dragon¡¯s body. I don¡¯t know where he is right now.¡± What he was saying was more or less true. He expected the minister to be too interested in the future of the Ranvar¡¯s dragons to press him on the minor details.


    ¡°Link?¡± said Dizzy. ¡°What link?¡±


    He really needed a counter to Dizzy of his own.


    ¡°It¡¯s not really a link, just a vague connection. A feeling.¡±


    She glared at him, not believing a word. Why did it feel like she already had a counter to him? The dispassionate serenity she displayed when conversing with the minister ¡ª who had tried to waylay her entire future by forcing her into a marriage of his personal convenience! ¡ª was nowhere in attendance when Nic merely mentioned an inconsequential relationship with a demon or two.


    ¡°What kind of feeling?¡± pressed Dizzy. ¡°Where did it come from? Who put it in there?¡±


    The minister looked like he would have liked to ask the same question, and vaguely embarrassed that he had been beaten to the punch. If he planned on spending his marital life with Dizzy for a partner, he would need to move a lot quicker; or get some help.


    ¡°It¡¯s not like that,¡± said Nic. ¡°I mean¡­¡±


    ¡°The demon,¡± said Simole. ¡°He had a demon in him for a while. You probably read a report on it.¡±


    He didn¡¯t send Simole a grateful glance ¡ª that would have been too obvious ¡ª but he thought it strongly and hoped it would find its way to her.


    She was talking past Dizzy, to the minister, who was so pleased to be included he nodded his head like a dog waiting for a ball to be thrown.


    ¡°Demons leave a kind of mental residue, don¡¯t they?¡± said Simole, tossing the ball to Nic.


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Nic. ¡°Not so much a residue as a hum. In the back of my head. Bit annoying, really.¡±


    ¡°That wasn¡¯t in the report,¡± said the minister.


    ¡°No?¡± said Nic. ¡°The Archmage may have redacted it.¡±


    Between Dizzy¡¯s pummelling and Simole¡¯s ever-present threat of doing something unpleasant, the minister was caught off-balance. Nic had never met him before, didn¡¯t know the kind of man he was under pressure, but riding into the enemy line was very different to facing off against the combined forces of Girl A and Girl B. Nic knew which he would prefer.


    ¡°Perhaps so,¡± said Carmine.


    ¡°All I know is that the High-Father is no longer at the Royal College,¡± said Nic, ¡°at least not in his dragon form. I was drawn there and the Archmage sent me back here. If you need to know more I¡¯m sure he¡¯d be happy to explain. He¡¯ll be able to do a much better job of it than me. He¡¯s the Archmage.¡±


    Nic hoped he wasn¡¯t overplaying the poor lost soul caught in matters beyond his comprehension. It usually worked because it wasn¡¯t that much of an act. And Carmine was probably inclined to believe. Nic was inclined to believe it himself.


    ¡°Do you know my father?¡± asked Simole, stepping up when needed.


    ¡°I have met him once or twice,¡± said Carmine. ¡°I doubt he recalls it.¡± He had regained a little of his composure. His men seemed relieved things had moved on from being lectured to by Dizzy. ¡°And do you happen to know how to prevent the dragons from dying?¡±


    The question was posed in such a way as to suggest the answer was no, and that asking it was merely a formality to establish Nic¡¯s lack of knowledge. The minister needed to prove he wasn¡¯t the least informed person here, and trumping Nic was the obvious, and possibly only, way to do it.


    ¡°You can¡¯t, not unless the High-Father chooses to let them, and even then I¡¯m not sure it¡¯s possible. He doesn¡¯t have the Arcanum. In fact, the only place he could find that much raw Arcanum is probably Gweur.¡±


    ¡°Gweur?¡± said Carmine, his interest genuine now, the posturing gone. ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°The Gweur fanatics, they were using raw Arcanum. I think they were probably stockpiling it, judging by how heavily dosed they were. I don¡¯t know, maybe they knew this would happen and that the dragons would be caught short. If they can find a way to bring the dragons to them, they might be able to save them. But then, they would have control of them.¡±


    Nic hadn¡¯t really thought about it, but talking to Carmine was like when he explained things to Davo and Fanny, and in the process revealed new thoughts on the subject to himself. It was actually quite enlightening to talk without too much scrutiny. There was a freedom to it. Although he wasn¡¯t sure why the minister was staring so intensely.


    ¡°Did I say something wrong?¡± asked Nic.


    ¡°No,¡± said Carmine. ¡°But you think the Gweur rebels want us to send in our dragons?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± said Nic. ¡°But they¡¯re all too weak now, aren¡¯t they. If that was their plan, they must have mistimed it. Or they have another way to get to the dragons. If I were them, I would probably set up an obvious target that would bring our forces to them in an attempt to wipe them out in one go, or heavily disable them, and use that as cover for sneaking in over the border.¡±


    ¡°But they would be sacrificing a large number of their own people if they did that,¡± said the minister. He seemed tense again.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure they¡¯d have plenty of volunteers,¡± said Nic. ¡°The old and injured, mostly, although they would present them as the heroic and the wise, key targets for us, break morale, smash the command structure. It¡¯s quite an old tactic for insurrectionists. Historically, it only works once every generation or so. If it isn¡¯t successful, it takes a long time to raise the numbers back up to useful levels for an effective insurgency, and a competent occupying force won¡¯t let that happen. Ranvar¡¯s a prime example of¡ª¡± An elbow in the stomach brought Nic up short.


    Simole gave him a look to let him know he was digressing to no practical purpose, which she often did, especially around lunchtime.


    Nic returned his attention to the minister, who looked quite pale. ¡°You haven¡¯t just sent a strike force into Gweur, have you?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I have to leave. Please, take care of yourself, Delzina. I hope we can talk again.¡± He turned and rushed away, his men following. They mounted their horses and raced off.


    ¡°So,¡± said Simole, as they walked through the school gates, ¡°Dizzy tried to chase old Mol off by questioning his ability to do an impressive job in the appropriate manner, and you, Nic, tried to chase him off by suggesting his attempt to do his job in an impressive manner may not have been appropriate.¡± She nodded. ¡°I can see that you both immediately and without mercy undermined the poor man¡¯s confidence, and did quite a good job of it.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about,¡± said Dizzy.


    ¡°I was just speculating,¡± said Nic, ¡°based on the accounts of Ranvar¡¯s foreign policy over the last four hundred years. I just happened to be reading up on it recently.¡±


    ¡°Sure, sure,¡± said Simole. ¡°Remind me to never believe a word either of you say.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re very late for class,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°Mr Periwinkle won¡¯t be happy.¡±


    ¡°No need for concern,¡± said Simole. ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll both still pass. It¡¯s not like he¡¯ll be testing your sincerity or common decency.¡±


    ¡°I think you¡¯ve got it all wrong,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°Do you?¡± said Simole. ¡°Or is that just what you want me to think?¡±


    The school grounds were empty and quiet. Everyone was in class except for the three of them. As they passed the girls¡¯ dorm, the two girls suddenly veered off. ¡°We¡¯ll meet you there.¡±


    After insisting he not go off on his own, Dizzy had ditched him anyway. He could have avoided the entire incident with Minister Carmine.


    Was that what he would have preferred though? Nic had found it interesting observing someone else who had recognised Dizzy¡¯s qualities. If it wasn¡¯t for his age, Dizzy might even have reciprocated the interest. He was certainly the kind of man who could help her develop. He had the right connections, the right type of experience.


    Five years from now, the issue of age would be of no importance. The problem was that she had caught his attentiveness five years ago. It made the whole thing creepy. Then again, his own interest in Dizzy went back ten years. It was a good thing they were the same age, or he¡¯d be the one attracting suspicious looks.


    ¡°She is worth the effort,¡± said a voice in his head.


    ¡°But am I?¡± said Nic.


    ¡°With a little work.¡±


    ¡°I thought you had finished with me,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°No, I was just taking a moment for myself,¡± said Winnum Roke. ¡°It¡¯s strange being back after all this time. And I think I deserve a moment to celebrate. Things have gone remarkably well so far.¡±


    ¡°They have?¡±


    ¡°The High-Father has been ousted, the Archmage is preparing to gather his forces, the disgruntled neighbours are massing at the borders¡­ yes, I think all in all things are going about as well as could be hoped for.¡±


    ¡°Congratulations,¡± said Nic. ¡°I hope it all works out.¡± He was still the boy on the sidelines, being dragged along behind the people racing ahead of him.


    ¡°How well it works out will largely depend on you.¡±


    ¡°Will it? I think we may have a problem, then. I have no power to influence what will happen.¡±


    ¡°Not yet.¡±


    Nic stopped at the steps to the main second year building. ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°You were right, my thousand-year-old knowledge may not be worth very much now, but my time in the Other Place was not entirely spent lounging around, you know. They have two things on their ship. An astounding amount of Arcanum, and a library full of knowledge they have collected from all the worlds they have visited.¡±


    ¡°A library?¡± said Nic.


    ¡°Yes. A thousand years was barely enough time to get through a fraction of it, but I learned a lot. For example, there are other ways to harness magic. Did you know that?¡±


    ¡°Without a demon?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Can you teach me?¡±


    ¡°Perhaps. But what would really help would be to have some help sorting through all the knowledge I¡¯ve collected.¡±


    ¡°Help?¡±


    ¡°Yes, someone who knows how to quickly find the relevant article from among thousands.¡±


    ¡°Like a librarian?¡± said Nic.


    ¡°Exactly,¡± said Winnum. ¡°One that isn¡¯t too busy right now. Who is free to go where she wants while the High-Father is otherwise occupied.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know where the Librarian is,¡± said Nic. ¡°Do you?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Winnum Roke. ¡°I¡¯ve sent for her. And then, Nic Tutt, your true education will begin.¡±

 Book 2: Chapter Fifteen

    Nic asked for more information. He asked Winnum to elaborate, to explain, to give him some idea of when and where he would meet the Librarian, and what this ¡®education¡¯ she promised would consist of, but he received no further response.


    It was frustrating that he had no way to prise an answer out of her. He suspected she was being difficult just to make a point, that he wasn¡¯t the one running things. Everyone seemed so eager to control the people around them. Nic would have settled for control over himself.


    Still, the idea of magic without Arcanum was a fascinating one. He had never seen mention of it in any book, but why couldn¡¯t it be possible? Magic¡¯s existence already proved the possibility of impossible events.


    He carried on into the building and made his way to the classroom. He was late for the Arts Course and Mr Periwinkle wouldn¡¯t be pleased, but at least the two girls would also be late and he wouldn¡¯t be the sole target of Mr Periwinkle¡¯s ire. Between the three of them, half the class would be absent.


    Questions would be asked, of course, but Nic felt confident he could use the Archmage as an excuse. Mr Periwinkle would know better than anyone the kind of man his boss was.


    As he entered the classroom, Nic realised his assumptions were not as accurate as might be hoped. Brillard, Carol and Rumi were all there, but so were Dizzy and Simole. How had they managed that so quickly, and got here before him? Not only that, they had changed clothes and looked like they had even showered. Nic, by contrast, was a bit of a scruffy mess and probably didn¡¯t smell that great.


    ¡°Sorry I¡¯m late, sir.¡±


    Mr Periwinkle glared at him through narrowed eyes from his seat at his desk. His appearance had undergone a minor but noticeable transformation. He had shaved and his blond hair had been cut into a neater, sharper style. His smooth cheeks were red and shiny, making him look surprisingly youthful; even his aberrant nostril hairs had received a trim.


    Despite his fresh new look, the intensity in the blue eyes had not lessened. If anything, they were more intense than ever, and aimed at Nic.


    ¡°You understand this is not an optional class, do you not?¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir. I apologise, but the Archm¡ª¡±


    ¡°Yes, yes, I¡¯m sure you have a very good reason for your tardiness. It won¡¯t be tolerated again. You are to be on time, every time, or you will be ejected from the course. Do you have anything else to say?¡±


    Periwinkle had already accepted his apology and dismissed his attempt at making an excuse. Nic wasn¡¯t sure what else he expected from him.


    ¡°Ah¡­ I like your new haircut.¡± He hadn¡¯t really meant to say that, but it was the only thing that popped into his head. He would have liked to have blamed Winnum Roke for putting such a silly comment into his mouth, despite the unsettling connotation that would bring with it, but he knew it was purely his own clumsiness. He was usually good around teachers but this one unnerved him.


    Mr Periwinkle¡¯s intense scrutiny continued, but one eye-slit slowly grew larger and his mouth spread into his newly shorn cheeks forming a deep frown. ¡°A compliment, Mr Tutt? Have you perhaps mistaken me for your girlfriend.¡±


    Nic squirmed uncomfortably. There were sniggers from behind him. ¡°No, sir. Sorry, sir. I don¡¯t have a girlfriend.¡± There was no need to add that last tidbit, but his mouth had turned full-traitor now.


    ¡°I see. How unfortunate. Is this your way of asking me out on a date?¡±


    Nic relaxed a little. Mr Periwinkle was teasing him, which was fine. Once he¡¯d had his fill of mocking Nic, he would carry on with the class. Nic had no problem playing the patsy, he¡¯d had plenty of practice. All he had to do was keep his mouth shut and endure it.


    ¡°No, sir. Unless you would like to. I mean, I¡¯m afraid I don¡¯t have much money, maybe we could get a cup of coffee at the cafeteria.¡± What was his mouth doing to him?


    ¡°I see,¡± said Mr Periwinkle, not seeming perturbed by the direction the conversation had taken. ¡°Do you think we¡¯d have much to talk about.¡±


    ¡°Oh, yes, sir. Definitely. I¡¯d really like to speak to you in a less formal setting. I have a lot of questions I think you would be ideally suited to answer. Most people just give me vague answers that don¡¯t really mean anything, but I think¡ª¡±


    A small but insistent cough cut Nic off.


    ¡°Could we carry on with the lesson, sir?¡± said Dizzy. It wasn¡¯t really a question.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± said Nic. He quickly sat down in the nearest chair. He could feel her eyes boring into the back of his head. He could also sense Simole¡¯s amusement. She would probably mercilessly taunt him about his confession to the teacher. Although, it wasn¡¯t like his proposal had been rejected.


    ¡°Yes, let us continue. Mr Tutt, since you have only just arrived, perhaps this exercise will serve as a way for you to catch up. Here, on this board, what do you see?¡±


    Nic looked past the teacher at the blackboard. A diagram in white chalk had been meticulously drawn, a six-pointed star with another, identical star drawn over it at a slight offset as though it had been rotated forty-five degrees. It looked like a very symmetrical flower.


    ¡°Double hexagrams, overlayed,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°This isn¡¯t a geometry class, Mr Tutt.¡±


    ¡°Uh¡­ a star?¡±


    ¡°Yes. And if you stare at it?¡±


    Nic stared at the diagram. It looked the same. ¡°Um¡­ oh, it looks a bit like it¡¯s moving.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± said Mr Periwinkle. ¡°Now, concentrate. Make the star move. First, let it, then direct it. Allow your mind to gently take control of what you see.¡±


    After the stressful physical demands of the last twenty-four hours, it came as a relief to be able to sit back and let his mind wrestle with a simple exercise like this. Nic let the lines on the board shift ¡ª an optical illusion that seemed real for a moment, then would snap back into a fixed, unmoving shape, then being to move in the other direction.


    Nic took hold of the spokes in his mind and moved them with deliberate effort. The star turned, spinning like a wheel. It turned faster, giving Nic a satisfying feeling of being in control. The star was his to control, at least in his imagination. It was actually quite soothing.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± said Mr Periwinkle, both eyes now wide as saucers.


    Nic moved his gaze from the board to the teacher whose face was aghast.


    ¡°How are you doing that?¡± demanded Periwinkle.


    Nic looked back at the blackboard where the star was still spinning. Not in his imagination, for real. The chalk outline was revolving with nothing to explain it, other than magic.


    Could it be what Winnum Roke had mentioned, magic without Arcanum? Or was she using him as a conduit to work through, finally able to take over his body as Dizzy claimed was inevitable?


    He still had control of his limbs, as far as he could tell, and he sensed no power flowing through him. And even if Winnum had found a way to use him as her proxy, why demonstrate it now?


    ¡°Did you do this?¡± he muttered to himself.


    ¡°I cannot,¡± said Winnum¡¯s distant voice. ¡°I am not the one who can perform magic here.¡±


    Nic turned around and faced his classmates, all of whom wore expressions even more astounded than Mr Periwinkle¡¯s. All except for Simole, who was grinning.


    ¡°Really?¡± said Nic.


    Everyone turned to look at Simole, all realising the true source of the magic at the same time.


    Simole burst into laughter. ¡°You should see your faces. The thought he could do magic, you all nearly lost your minds.¡± She slapped Dizzy on the shoulder. Dizzy did not look amused.


    Nic turned back to face Mr Periwinkle. ¡°Is it possible to do magic without Arcanum?¡±


    Mr Periwinkle, his astonishment subsided now that the source of the trick had been revealed and the world made sense once more, snorted air through his nose and returned his attention to Nic.


    ¡°Is it possible? More than likely. Has anyone managed it? Not as far as I am aware. Are you planning on revolutionising the magical realm?¡±


    The truth was that he didn¡¯t know, but that would sound ridiculous, like it was under consideration. ¡°No, sir. I just thought it was an interesting idea. Since there is a way to circumvent the laws of nature, perhaps it can be done via more than one route.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Mr Periwinkle, ¡°it is indeed an interesting thought, and one the theoretical Arcanists have been considering since the advent of the Royal College. Perhaps that will be your field of research ¡ª you are somewhat of a studious young fellow, after all. Perhaps I will mention you to one of the masters at the College. My own interests lie in the applied field, but that is neither here nor there. I am quite exhausted by this class¡¯s antics for the day, so let¡¯s try something different. Please take out a pen and some paper.¡±


    The shift to having to actually do something broke the air of bewilderment Nic had managed to create and the six students prepared for their assignment.


    ¡°I want you to look into the star on the board and dislocate your mind in the manner I have shown you ¡ª Miss van Dastan, if you could play by the rules for now I would greatly appreciate it ¡ª and then I want you to write down whatever comes to you, no matter how nonsensical. Let¡¯s see what we can come up with.¡± He put his hands together with the fingers laced together, the image of a man expecting big things from them while doubting they would deliver.


    Nic was relieved to not have the focus on him for at least a little while. It was only half an hour or so until the end of the lesson ¡ª he was confident he could make it to then without causing further upset or consternation. And if somehow he did, he could always point the blame in Simole¡¯s direction. It would be a very plausible explanation.


    Nic faced the blackboard and let the many-pointed star enter his consciousness. It began to rotate, but not in the realistic (because it had been real) manner from before. It seemed to pulse more than turn, the points switching places and going in and out of focus.


    He began writing.


    It was a pleasant sensation, like he was floating. Nothing in particular came to mind but he could feel the pen scratching across the paper. Would doodles count? It wasn¡¯t like there was a right answer.


    His mind blanked and he could sense the star on the blackboard without really seeing it...


    When his focus returned, Mr Periwinkle was standing over him, peering down at the notebook Nic had been writing in. Nic looked down and saw the page was filled with small, neat text. It was his handwriting, but he had no recollection of what he had just written.


    ¡°That was quick,¡± said Nic. ¡°Hardly felt I got started.¡±


    ¡°The bell went twenty minutes ago,¡± said Brill. ¡°Are you alright?¡±


    ¡°Hmm? Yes, fine. Why? Is something wrong?¡±


    ¡°You were doing a lot of writing,¡± said Brill. ¡°A lot.¡±


    Nic looked at the page. It was crammed full of words from top to bottom. He turned the pages to find more and more. ¡°I did all this? It must be gibberish.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said Carol Rev, holding up his notebook, ¡°this is gibberish.¡± The page showed scribbles and poorly formed words that ran into each other.


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you read us what you wrote,¡± said Mr Periwinkle, a strange smile on his lips.


    Nic looked at the first line. It was clear and coherent.


    Jeera-Jayne Barden was a low-level mage, the lowest level possible.


    He hadn¡¯t written this, he was sure. Who had? Winnum Roke? There was the book of fairytales, but the Librarian had told him Winnum wasn¡¯t the author of those.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think I should. I¡¯m not sure what it says.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the whole idea,¡± said Periwinkle. ¡°It¡¯s not often someone manages to breach their conscious wall to the thoughts beyond on their first attempt.¡±


    Not often for other people, perhaps. Nic¡¯s conscious wall had been breached far too many times, and rarely by him. Whoever¡¯s thoughts these were, they could have a detrimental effect if read out aloud.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± said Mr Periwinkle, ¡°they¡¯re just words.¡±This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    ¡°Go on, Nic,¡± said Dizzy from behind him. ¡°Show us what you keep behind the wall.¡±


    All eyes were on him, again. It would probably be best to at least read through what he had written before sharing it, but that wasn¡¯t going to happen. He read it.


    ***


    Jeera-Jayne Barden was a low-level mage, the lowest level possible.


    There was no doubting her lack of skill. She was as untalented a magician as it was possible to be while still being a card-carrying member of the guild.


    She had a grand total of three spells she had learned. A basic light spell that was no better than a cheap torch and lasted half as long.


    The ability to detect traps, which was of limited use in most places, and which was only fifty percent effective (although she had got it bumped up to sixty-five by flirting with the man in the guild''s records office).


    And a magic arrow that could hit any target, guaranteed, for absolutely no damage. Targeting was the first thing you learned. Damage output was something you were meant to build up through practice and experience.


    When the other adventurers gathered to form parties, she was always overlooked or rejected outright. She would only hold the others back, or even cause injury by not being able to carry her weight. Jeera-Jayne Burden, she was called.


    If she couldn¡¯t go out and use her paltry skills out in the real world, how could she improve to the point people considered her worth taking with them?


    It was a stupid position to be in ¡ª not good enough to be useful, but not able to get better because no one was willing to help her.


    She was trash. But she did have one thing of value. Jeera-Jayne was a beautiful girl. She had a lovely face with flawless skin, and a voluptuous body that would turn men¡¯s heads. It was her only asset, and it was very much in demand.


    She would have liked to have been accepted as a mage, as an adventurer, someone willing to learn, but when it became obvious that wasn¡¯t going to happen, her only recourse was to use what she had.


    It became a bit of a game. She would flirt and tease a party leader, suggestively implying she might be open to some romantic dalliance if he took her with him on his next adventure, while the party leader would try to seduce her with the promise that if she was willing to put out, in the morning she might win a place on the roster.


    She knew what she was doing and she wasn¡¯t proud of herself, but what other choice did she have?


    Sometimes it worked and a smitten adventurer would invite her on a quest, thinking she couldn¡¯t be as bad as everyone made out. Even a civilian had their uses, so a trained mage would be a step up from that at the very least.


    The other members of the party would give her the cold shoulder, knowing how she had procured her place. The women, in particular, would make it clear they didn¡¯t think much of her. That was okay, she didn¡¯t think much of herself. But she couldn¡¯t afford the luxury of self-respect or pride.


    Once she had improved just a little, once she could offer something beyond a pretty face and enticing curves, she fully intended to be a woman of good morals and high standing. Until then, she would try her best to be less of a burden.


    The men who allowed their libido to rule their heads would regret their decision as soon as battle commenced. Jeera-Jayne was so inexperienced, at the first sign of trouble she would panic and forget everything.


    Not only would she be unable to cast any spells or defend herself with her staff, she would get in everybody¡¯s way and cause unnecessary injuries. Often, she would be sent home. Occasionally, she would be abandoned in the middle of nowhere with no idea where she was.


    Sometimes, her seduction routine would work too well and not in her favour. She would wake in an empty bed with the dashing adventurer who had promised to show her the world gone.


    Off on his travels with his competent fellows, not foolish enough to allow a green girl with no experience to get under everyone¡¯s feet. There had even been times when she¡¯d been left stuck with the bill for the tavern room.


    It wasn¡¯t like Jeera-Jayne had been taken advantage of. These were dashing, heroic men she was drawn to and who she found attractive. She didn¡¯t feel used or betrayed ¡ª she was no less guilty than them of being duplicitous ¡ª but she did feel sad and desperate. It was not the way she would choose to live her life.


    And then, one day, Marnus Rolph visited her town.


    Famed adventurer, master magician, hero of a hundred battles, shockingly handsome and violently superior in every way. His exploits were the stuff of myth and legend, and all true. Book signings were part of his itinerary.


    If Jeera-Jayne could convince him to take her on as a student, surely he would be able to train even a worthless acolyte like her.


    He was known to be a womaniser, a connoisseur of pulchritude. From royal princesses to tavern wenches, if they were of a high enough physical standard, Marnus Rolph wouldn¡¯t turn them away. And Jeera-Jayne was certainly a looker. In fact, it was all she was.


    She went to the fine inn where Marnus was staying. The place was full of admirers and sycophants, many looking for his favour, just as she was.


    She didn¡¯t try too hard. She wore clothes that showed off her figure, but kept some mystery. She caught his eye a number of times, but didn¡¯t force herself into his close circle. She used all the feminine wiles she had accrued, that she hated, that made her feel like she was in altogether different occupation. And she waited patiently.


    At the end of the evening, when she thought she had failed and was considering some reckless last-ditch attempt, he appeared before her. Tall, sandy-haired, a precisely trimmed goatee beard circling his mouth.


    ¡°Would you like to come to my room?¡± He was direct, at least.


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Jeera-Jayne.


    She knew it was most likely going to lead to nothing. He had no interest in her beyond her body, and she had encouraged him to think in no other way.


    In his room, he said, ¡°Take off your clothes and lie on the bed.¡±


    What was she going to do? Act offended? Insist on being treated with dignity? She had made this bed. She lay on it.


    He was at least a skilful lover. She fought back her tears, her sense of loss. Her only chance was to impress him so greatly that he didn¡¯t just abandon her in the morning, like all the others had. She did her best to reciprocate his passion, to act like she wanted to be there. It wasn¡¯t going to be enough, she knew that, but she would give this her all.


    He fell asleep as soon as he was finished and Jeera-Jayne lay in the dark, naked and cold. He had taken the blanket for himself.


    She was woken in the middle of the night by his searching hands. He wasn¡¯t satisfied and she gave herself to him again. She was angry now. Angry at herself for being so stupid, for being so helpless. She fought him ¡ª not to stop him but to make him try harder. If this was lust and nothing more, let the great Marnus Rolph show her what a legend was capable of. She drew it out of him, refusing to let his lust overshadow hers. They challenged each other to greater heights of ecstasy.


    She fell asleep as soon as she was finished.


    In the morning, as the first light slipped into the room through slatted blinds, she reached for him and initiated a farewell coupling. Gentle and slow, her kisses were light and his were warm. There was something more in them now. Gratitude, perhaps, fondness if it wasn¡¯t just her imagination, and something she hadn¡¯t felt in a long time ¡ª affection.


    An affectionate kiss was a precious thing, she realised.


    She didn¡¯t expect anything of him. She hadn¡¯t even asked him for his help; there was hardly any point to it. An awkward refusal would only sour the taste that was already bitter. At least she had spent the night with a hero ¡ª how many worthless women could say that?


    As he rose to get dressed, he looked older. His body was muscular and in good fettle, but covered in scars, both old and recent. She sat on the bed, naked, watching him go, wanting him to have this memory of her, looking glorious. Maybe he would remember her some day and regret leaving her behind, even if it was only for the most base and coarse reasons. Those were the reasons that best suited her, after all.


    ¡°I¡¯m also a mage.¡± The words came out of her mouth unbidden.


    ¡°Yes,¡± he said, turning as he buttoned his shirt. ¡°Not very powerful.¡± His bluntness wasn¡¯t unkind, just unwavering.


    ¡°I¡¯ve tried to improve, but I can¡¯t seem to do it on my own, and no one¡¯s willing to help me. They¡¯re either only interested in me for other reasons or, once they realise what a slow learner I am, they aren¡¯t willing to waste the time and effort. Do you think you could¡­.¡± ¡ªWhat? What was she going to ask him for? Payment?¡ª ¡°...offer me some advice?¡±


    That was reasonable, wasn¡¯t it? Just a hint, a tip. Guidance from a friend. He was a master magician, after all. He might know a thing or two.


    ¡°Hmm.¡± He assessed her with a penetrating look. She felt even more naked. ¡°You aren¡¯t trying hard enough. You¡¯re lazy and easily distracted. I don¡¯t think you really want to improve.¡±


    Insults? Was that what she deserved? She bit her tongue. His nature was to be brutally honest. He was telling her what he saw.


    ¡°Maybe you¡¯re right, but no one¡¯s ever tried to push me, except into bed.¡± She didn¡¯t want to accuse him of anything. She didn¡¯t want to try to make him feel guilt or shame ¡ª it wouldn¡¯t work, in any case.


    ¡°I see. Possibly, that is the cause of your slow development. Let me suggest this for you.¡±


    He taught her a spell. It was basic and fairly useless, but she was able to learn it. When cast, it used a mixture of the light spell and the harmless magic arrow to create three shapes in the air: a ball, a cube and a pyramid.


    They hung there, floating, barely visible.


    ¡°Maintain them just like that. I have some business to take care of but I will be back before lunch. Then we¡¯ll see.¡±


    He left.


    Then we¡¯ll see what? Was he saying she could be his apprentice if she passed this test? No, he hadn¡¯t said anything of the kind.


    Then what?


    Would he even come back? Leave the silly girl naked on his bed and off to the next adventure, the next kingdom?


    But no, the rest of his gear and equipment were still here.


    So be it. She would at least show him she was no slouch. Even if this was some joke at her expense, she would do her part to the best of her ability.


    When he returned a few hours later, she was just as he¡¯d left her. Naked, sweating, with three glowing objects floating over her. They were more solid and more stable. Her jaw ached from how hard she had been clenching it. She couldn¡¯t feel her limbs. Her throat was terribly dry and painful. She refused to let the illusion pass.


    ¡°Good, good,¡± he said, undressing. ¡°You seem to be getting the hang of it. Let¡¯s see how committed you are.¡± He crawled over the bed and gently pushed her down. ¡°Don¡¯t be distracted, now.¡±


    A joke, a stupid prank, it had to be. But why? She had already given him full use of her body for his pleasure. What did he have to gain from ridiculing her?


    She focused harder as he caressed her body. She could feel it slipping away as her mind went blank, but she held on. The shapes turned and spun in the air, flickering. She forced them back into existence and cried out as he mercilessly worked on her weak points. She thought she would lose her mind but she clung on, even as her body broke down and her tears flowed, she refused to be a failure. Worthless, untalented, undeserving, hopeless.


    He took her and she lost her grip ¡ª on her task, on herself, on reality. But the shapes didn¡¯t wither and die, they grew brighter, filling the room with colour. The pleasure and pain flowing into her, flowed out into the magical objects and held them without any effort. They were part of her. She wept with joy and terror as she convulsed and was finally still. What was happening to her?


    ¡°It seems you have some talent,¡± he said, ¡°just buried a little deeper than normal. You¡¯ll have to dig it out.¡±


    ¡°Th-th-thank you,¡± she managed to say.


    ¡°No, thank you. I¡¯ve never had quite that much pleasure from working with a student.¡±


    ¡°Student?¡±


    ¡°I know a hundred and one spells, Miss Jeera-Jayne. I¡¯m willing to teach you one hundred of them, if you agree to my terms. Complete obedience, unwavering loyalty, and making yourself available for my use whenever I ask, denying me nothing. It is not a fair trade by any means.¡±


    ¡°I accept,¡± said Jeera-Jayne. It was the best offer anyone had ever made her.


    And so she became the great Marnus Rolph¡¯s apprentice, among other things. People would see them together and say, ¡°There¡¯s Marnus Rolph with his slut.¡±


    And later they would say, ¡°There¡¯s Marnus Rolph with his woman.¡±


    And even later they would say, ¡°There¡¯s Marnus Rolph with his wife.¡±


    She was none of those things. She was his student and she did as he instructed. And she grew to be powerful and masterful in the ways of magic. And she kept her half of the bargain.


    Sometimes he would ravish her at night like he owned her. And sometimes she would desperately cling to him in the small hours and refuse to let him go. And sometimes they would gently embrace in the mornings like old friends.


    The years passed and after he had taught her one hundred spells she found him lying deathly pale in their bed, his eyes unseeing.


    ¡°I am dying,¡± he said.


    ¡°How do I save you?¡± she asked. He was the greatest mage in the world and he would have an answer, she knew.


    ¡°There is one last spell. It is the spell of transference. It enables a great and powerful mage to transfer their life force into the body of another so they may continue to live with vitality.¡±


    And she knew then that he had prepared her for this task over these many years they had been together. She was to be the elixir that saved his life. Feeding her, nurturing her, making her a potent mage so that he could reclaim that power when he needed it.


    And she didn¡¯t care. She didn¡¯t mind at all.


    He has shown her the world, taken her on adventures, raised her up to his level. Without him, her life would have been a drab affair. If he wanted to take it back now, she was happy to oblige. She would deny him nothing.


    ¡°Do you understand?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± she said.


    ¡°Do you agree to the transfer.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± she said. She held his hand and her tears were not of regret or fear. She closed her eyes and he cast his last spell.


    The last of his life force travelled from his body into hers and he died with a satisfied sigh.


    ***


    Nic turned over the page but it was blank.


    ¡°Oh. I think that¡¯s the end.¡± No one spoke. ¡°I think that wasn¡¯t too bad. Sort of sad but sweet.¡± Still no one spoke. He looked up at Mr Periwinkle who was nodding pensively, and then behind him.


    The three girls didn¡¯t look very happy. Rumi Kettle looked like she was crying. He didn¡¯t know her very well, so that could be for any number of reasons. Simole¡¯s bottom lip was trembling, which was odd.


    Dizzy, on the other hand, looked angry. Her fists were balled up and she was ready to hit someone. Nic recognised the signs only too well.


    ¡°Didn¡¯t you like it?¡± asked Nic. Brill and Carol looked like they were about to say something, but hadn¡¯t quite figured out what.


    ¡°Who wrote it?¡± said Dizzy.


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± said Nic. ¡°You saw me¡ª¡±


    ¡°Who was it?¡± said Dizzy. ¡°Was it her? Is she really that vicious?¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t think¡­ I mean, it¡¯s kind of romantic, isn¡¯t it?¡± Nic was getting the feeling he was missing something.


    ¡°Romantic?¡± said Dizzy. ¡°You think it was romantic? It was a warning, Nic.¡±


    ¡°A warning? About what?¡±


    ¡°This is how they¡¯ll come for us,¡± said Dizzy, spitting out the words. ¡°It¡¯s not enough to make us give up everything, we have to do it willingly, and be grateful. Grateful! Throwing ourselves into the flames with smiles. Don¡¯t you understand anything?¡±


    Nic considered himself quite perceptive, but Dizzy seemed to be seeing things he hadn¡¯t. ¡°But he sacrificed himself at the end, for her.¡±


    ¡°That was a lie,¡± said Simole, her voice very quiet. ¡°That was the lie to make you think the risk is worth taking, even if you fail. You might win, but even if you don¡¯t, be grateful.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re being led to the abattoir, Nic, and told we¡¯re going to a house in the country. Be grateful for what might have been. Be grateful!¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think¡ª¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t understand anything.¡± Dizzy got up and stormed out. Simole followed with Rumi sniffling as she joined the caravan.


    ¡°I thought it was a bit over the top,¡± said Carol.


    ¡°I know,¡± said Brill, holding up a page full of doodles. ¡°I mean, magic doesn¡¯t even work like that. Just a made up story, right, Nic? People read too much into things.¡± They walked out together, leaving Nic alone with Mr Periwinkle.


    Was it a warning? A very odd one, if it was. What Nic really wanted to know was who had written it. Not Winnum Roke, he felt. But then that left only one person who could put the words in his mind like that.


    Mr Periwinkle sat down behind his desk. ¡°Good, good. I think we all learnt something today. I really am an excellent teacher.¡±


    Nic approached him. ¡°About that date.¡±


    ¡°Hmm? Date?¡±


    ¡°I think we should meet. Tonight. The room at the top of the library, I think you know the one I mean.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡± said Periwinkle. ¡°Alright, then. See you there, Nic.¡±


    Nic walked out of the classroom. Winnum had said she had contacted the Librarian. It seemed she had never been that far away.

 Book 2: Chapter Sixteen

    There was no one waiting for Nic in the corridor outside the classroom. He set off towards the exit, his mind full of questions.


    The story he had just read did seem to be an allegory of some kind, something to do with the relationship between humans and demons, but he wasn¡¯t convinced it was the dire warning Dizzy seemed to think it was. Maybe he was wrong. Even if the deal mages had made to obtain the secrets of Arcanum was a questionable one, they had still managed to become wielders of immense power. A reasonable trade.


    Dizzy¡¯s anger seemed to have been aimed at the story¡¯s ending. A lie, she claimed. Nic could see what she meant. It would make the bargain struck between the mage and his apprentice seem more attractive if at the end he bestowed full autonomy on her. She became completely independent of him, able to choose her own destiny. Would humanity receive the same generous parting gift from the demons? That would seem to be how they wanted it to appear.


    Back in the classroom, Nic had already known the story would rile Dizzy even before she had reacted. As the words had come out of his mouth, as new to him as the rest of the class, he could sense how they would aggravate her, even without knowing what the story was about. The tone of the words was set at just the right angle to slide past almost everyone, but catch on her temperament like a hook piercing the mouth of an irate fish. She probably wouldn¡¯t appreciate the analogy.


    What he needed to do was ask the Librarian. He was sure she was the one who had put the story in his head. She had to have a reason to do so. She also had to have a reason to be back here in the school, disguised as a teacher.


    It was lunchtime, and his classmates had probably rushed off to the cafeteria, which was where he was headed, although he only realised it once he looked up. His feet had carried him in the right direction even when his mind was preoccupied with a million different things. Habit and repetition were powerful learning tools. It was a shame he couldn¡¯t use them to teach himself something more useful than ending up in places without paying attention. That seemed to be the only thing he was good at these days.


    Davo, Fanny and Brill were already seated with their trays by the time Nic arrived in the cafeteria, along with Hewt, Brill¡¯s younger brother. By the time Nic had gotten his own lunch and sat down, they were nearly finished. He gave them a condensed version of what had happened in Periwinkle¡¯s class, with Brill making small comments that didn¡¯t add much information but underlined the parts that were particularly surprising, like Dizzy¡¯s outburst.


    ¡°Sounds like a happy ending to me,¡± said Fanny.


    ¡°I think you¡¯re focusing on entirely the wrong problem,¡± said Davo.


    ¡°What problem?¡± said Nic.


    ¡°Your infatuation, your need to impress Miss High and Mighty. Can we not just agree that whatever first attracted you to this young lady ¡ª and I¡¯m not saying she doesn¡¯t have some admirable qualities, like excellent bone structure ¡ª they are more than outweighed by her negative attributes. She just isn¡¯t pushing in the same direction as you. It won¡¯t work out, I¡¯m being frank, here. It won¡¯t work out in any way that would be worth all this bumping and clashing you two seem to be doing endlessly. To put it bluntly, Nic, I don¡¯t think she likes you in the way a boy wants a girl to like him, and I don¡¯t think she ever will.¡±


    Nic stopped eating and noticed he had caught up with the others in terms of how empty his plate was. They had all stopped to listen to his recap of recent events, while he had ploughed on, taking on multiple tasks at once. Was this his true potential, to be able to eat and talk at the same time? His mother would be horrified at his lack of table manners.


    ¡°I don¡¯t see how any of what I just told you has to do with my relationship with Dizzy.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s because she is your blind spot,¡± said Brill, returning to his highly organised plate of food. No one could separate a meal into food groups as neatly as Brill. ¡°I don¡¯t mean to pile on, Nic, but it isn¡¯t really up for debate, is it? You want her, and are willing to make allowances to get her, or at least keep her close. Allowances you wouldn¡¯t make for anyone else.¡±


    Nic felt mildly annoyed but did his best to remain calm. It wasn¡¯t that he didn¡¯t see their point ¡ª she had been nothing but nettlesome towards him since he had arrived at the school, but it was to be expected. He had responded the best he could. He had come here to find out if there was any hope for them, and when it became obvious there wasn¡¯t. he had withdrawn and kept to himself as much as he could. It wasn¡¯t his fault events had conspired to bring them closer together.


    But he knew he was being disingenuous. Even when he¡¯d been reading the story in class, knowing it would draw her contempt had pleased him. He was as much to blame for the poor atmosphere between them as she was. He liked the heat of her anger so close to him. It felt like there would eventually be a moment where he¡¯d be able to reach out and grab hold of her, and all that rage would dissipate, leaving behind¡­ what?


    ¡°What about you, Fanny? Do you think I¡¯ve fallen for the wrong girl?¡±


    ¡°I think,¡± said Fanny, and then he put a forkful of food in his mouth so everyone had to wait for the rest of his sentence, ¡°that she is a lovely young woman who is going through a difficult time, and it would be best to allow her time to grieve, which she probably hasn¡¯t had a chance to do properly.¡±


    The others were slightly stunned at Fanny¡¯s mature response, and a little embarrassed at their own lack of empathy for the girl who had just lost her father.


    ¡°I also think¡± ¡ªhe took another mouthful and made them wait again¡ª ¡°you should all keep your voices down. She¡¯s only over there and if she hears you talking about her, she¡¯s liable to come over here and box all ofour ears until they look like this cauliflower and cheese.¡± He carried on eating.


    ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± said Nic, doing his utmost to not turn around and check if Dizzy was looking in his direction. ¡°She has her own problems, and I have mine. I need to focus on getting an education and making a future for myself. There are other, far better qualified people to take care of everything else.¡±


    Davo said, ¡°Are you trying to convince us of that or yourself?¡±


    No one at the table seemed inclined to let him off the hook today.


    A few slow, quiet claps caused them all to look down the other end of the table. The applause came from Brill¡¯s brother.


    ¡°Excellent, Nic, excellent. Your pragmatic way of thinking, combined with an experimental, scientific approach based on observation and logical analysis, is lacking in both imagination and effectiveness. Based on this alone, we can satisfactorily conclude that any young woman with below average intelligence would find you irresistible.¡±


    Nic looked at Brill. ¡°How old did you say he was again?¡±


    ¡°Twelve. My apologies. I believe something untoward happened to him in the womb. My mother was very partial to dessert pears during her pregnancy, which are known to have a toxic effect when consumed in large amounts. Brain damage.¡±


    ¡°Brillard, I hardly think my intellect can be called into question considering my position in this school.¡±


    ¡°There are more ways to define intelligence than intellect, Hewton,¡± replied Brillard. ¡°Tact, kindness, social awareness ¡ª all these things play a part. Now, please stop interrupting and finish eating your broccoli like a good boy.¡±


    Hewt put down his fork on his plate of disorganised food, nothing like his brother¡¯s, and his features sank into his face. He had a small nose and thin lips, both of which seemed in danger of disappearing altogether.


    ¡°I merely think it is somewhat wasteful for someone like Nic to spend all this time surrounded by demons and mages and dragons, and the only thing that seems to provoke his interest is whether or not the girl he likes likes him back. I hardly think I should be the only one looked at as someone who needs to grow up.¡±


    Nic looked at Brill again, this time with a more questioning gaze.


    ¡°I told him nothing about your affairs,¡± said Brill. ¡°He has the ability to divine information in an almost supernatural manner. He claims it is through syntax and body language, but personally I believe he eavesdrops on people and is very good at it.¡±


    ¡°Do you keep a journal?¡± asked Fanny.


    ¡°What?¡± said Brill.


    ¡°A journal, a diary where you write down recent notable events of interest to you. Today the peas weren¡¯t entirely symmetrical, I must have a word with the cook. That sort of thing.¡±


    ¡°Well, not quite for that reason, but yes. I keep notes for the autobiography I will one day write.¡±


    ¡°He probably knows where you keep it,¡± said Fanny. ¡°That¡¯s what happened to mine. My sisters found it and then made fun of all my embarrassing secrets.¡± He shuddered. ¡°I no longer write down anything, posterity be damned.¡±


    ¡°Is that true?¡± said Brill. ¡°Have you been reading my private papers?¡±


    ¡°Of course not,¡± said Hewt. ¡°Do you think I have time to waste on your trivial jottings? And as usual, you all go off on a hundred different tangents at once and miss my point entirely. Nic, you wish to learn, to improve yourself to the point where you are someone worthy of this young woman¡¯s attention, is that not the case? And no, I haven¡¯t been reading your journal or your love letters or the poetry you write in the back of your notebooks. Such elementary deductions do not require such high levels of chicanery, I assure you.¡±


    ¡°What are you blabbering on about?¡± said Brill, starting to get short with his brother.


    ¡°I am saying, with all these grand and powerful people surrounding him, if I were in Nic¡¯s position, I would avail myself of their expertise, and make them my teachers. Why toil away in the classroom learning the basics of a stale and stagnant curriculum when you have access to the greatest experts in Ranvar? They are the ones to learn from, not the doddering old failed academics we¡¯re forced to endure here.¡±


    Nic blinked slowly. Despite the dismissive and frankly quite condescending manner of Hewt¡¯s speech, he was right. If Nic was going to develop himself to the point where not only would Dizzy be impressed by him, but he might actually be impressed with himself, and perhaps not need saving on quite such a regular schedule, he needed the help of masters in their field.


    ¡°Actually,¡± said Davo, ¡°that isn¡¯t a bad idea.¡±


    ¡°Hmm,¡± said Fanny, who was well into his pudding by this stage. ¡°You have every type of specialist and hot shot wanting things from you. You should try asking for something in return.¡±


    ¡°Studying is what you¡¯re good at,¡± said Brill. ¡°If you could find a really good teacher, you could really make some real advancements.¡±


    Nic looked back down the table at Hewt. The small boy looked not much different to other children of his age. A bit more formal in the way he dressed, maybe. His hair was oiled and slicked back in the style of the older boys, but many boys his age tried to look older. He bit into his broccoli while pulling a disgusted face, which immediately countered his effort to appear mature.


    ¡°Thank you, Hewt,¡± said Nic. ¡°That¡¯s a good suggestion.¡±


    Hewt nodded, one equal to another, which he probably saw as a gracious climb down. ¡°You should also stop training with the girl. She¡¯ll only distract you and prevent you from thinking clearly.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s right,¡± said Davo.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know if I can¡ª¡±


    ¡°Sever all links,¡± said Brill.


    ¡°But who will train me to fight and defend myself?¡± said Nic.


    ¡°What about the Secret Service?¡± said Fanny. ¡°They¡¯re the best trained and the toughest to beat, aren¡¯t they? And they¡¯re always interested in knowing what you¡¯re up to. Ask them to show you a few moves next time you see them.¡±


    It wouldn¡¯t be quite that easy, Nic was certain, but the Secret Service agents were the best at what they did. Not even Dizzy would dispute that.


    ¡°Are there any around?¡± asked Nic, peering around the room as though he might spot one. His eyes passed across Dizzy¡¯s table, and kept going. She had her back to him.


    ¡°Agents?¡± said Fanny. ¡°Actually, no. I¡¯ve noticed a sharp drop off in their numbers on school grounds. Haven¡¯t detected any activity in days.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± said Brill, sounding concerned. ¡°Where have they gone? They¡¯re supposed to be keeping an eye on our country¡¯s greatest resource.¡±


    ¡°High-quality minerals and ores?¡± said Davo.


    ¡°The children of the noble houses,¡± said Brill.


    ¡°We¡¯ll have to agree to disagree,¡± said Davo.


    ¡°I think they must still be around,¡± said Nic. ¡°Just in reduced numbers. I¡¯ll have to think of a way to contact them.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s easy,¡± said Fanny. ¡°Just put yourself in extreme danger. Not too extreme ¡ª you don¡¯t want them turning up after you¡¯re dead.¡±


    Nic sat with the food growing cold on the end of his fork, considering the possibility of forming his own personal college of learning, designed to advance his personal growth into a realm he couldn¡¯t even begin to comprehend yet. Physical training by the Secret Service, magical research through the Royal College, draconic lore taught by the Dragoon Corps. The range of subjects was endless. He might even ask Minister Carmine to tutor him the dark arts of espionage and skullduggery. That would certainly raise Dizzy¡¯s ire.


    ¡°Why are you grinning to yourself like that?¡± asked Davo. ¡°Are you thinking about sordid things?¡±


    ¡°Hmm? No, nothing. I was just going over whatHewt said about arranging private sessions with the experts in each field. It would certainly raise the bar for studying.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Davo. ¡°Well, rather you than me. I imagine the best of the best use the worst of the worst methods when it comes to pushing their apprentices to the limit. If you think your childhood friend is a harsh mistress, I can only shiver with apprehension at what the men who deal with demons and dragons will do to you.¡±The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    ¡°I¡¯ve also dealt with Simole,¡± Nic pointed out.


    ¡°Ah, true,¡± said Davo. ¡°Compared to her, it should be a doddle.¡±


    They set off to their individual classes after lunch. Nic had Military Strategy with Mr Varity, who was a decent enough teacher when it came to the fundamentals, but what if he could get the Ministry for War to teach him the finer points?


    Firstly, though, he wanted to contact the Secret Service. If he could convince them to train him directly, under the pretext of it being less likely he would die before he could get vital information to them (he had no idea what that information might be, but that only made it sound more vital), then he wouldn¡¯t have to rely so heavily on Dizzy.


    Whatever his personal feelings about her, there was certainly an added element to deal with when he faced her. Even when they sparred ¡ª which usually meant a sound thrashing for him ¡ª he was never really able to see her as just an opponent. She was always Dizzy.


    He needed to distance himself from her, for both their sakes.


    The easiest way to summon Secret Service agents, assuming there were still some on duty at the school, was to cause a commotion, preferably involving one of the more important students. A prince or duke¡¯s son in trouble would bring them running, or appearing out of thin air, as was their preferred method of entry.


    He sat in class not really paying attention and examined his fellow students. There were eighteen of them in the classroom, including himself, so sixteen to choose from once he excluded himself and Dizzy, who he very carefully avoided making eye contact with. If she thought he was up to something, she would fly into a rage and accuse him of breaking their agreement. Which would be accurate, but inconvenient (and most likely painful) to admit.


    Once he removed the other girls from the running ¡ª because the plan he¡¯d come up with was going to involve violence ¡ª that left eight candidates.


    Of them, the highest ranking in terms of nobility was without question Quin Henrik, third son of the Earl of somewhere or other, Nic couldn¡¯t recall. Not exactly the nation¡¯s most valued aristocrat, but important enough for the Secret Service to take action if the boy was in harm¡¯s way.


    Nic waited until the end of class and then casually made his way to Quin¡¯s desk, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. He had made sure Dizzy had already left before he made his move.


    ¡°Do you mind if I have a word?¡±


    Quin looked up with mild surprise. Everyone knew who Nic was, at least in terms of his unusually high status considering his lowborn origins.


    ¡°Alright,¡± Quin said cagily. ¡°What do you want?¡±


    Nic tried to stall until most of the students were gone. ¡°I just wanted to say sorry.¡±


    ¡°Sorry for what?¡±


    Nic slapped him. It was quite a hard slap and loud. It made the palm of his hand sting. A red mark appeared on Quin¡¯s face, but rather than fall down or cry out, he just looked astonished. Absolutely astonished.


    ¡°What was that for?¡± he said, his voice stern but not in any way raging.


    This was already not going as he¡¯d envisioned it. Nic reminded himself that this was how you learned, through experiment and observation.


    ¡°Ah, I just needed to talk to the Secret Service, and I thought¡­¡±


    ¡°If you hit me they¡¯d come running to the rescue? I¡¯m not a dinner bell. You don¡¯t strike people to get attention. And they won¡¯t turn up over something as trivial as a slap in the face.¡±


    Now that he thought about it, perhaps this wasn¡¯t the best way to achieve his goal. His total disregard for this innocent boy was nothing to be proud of.


    ¡°Sorry. I didn¡¯t know what else to do. You¡¯re quite important, so I thought¡­¡±


    ¡°No, don¡¯t try to flatter me with pointless compliments.¡± He rubbed the side of his face. ¡°Why didn¡¯t you just ask me?¡±


    ¡°Ask? You mean, you have a way to call them?¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± Quin pulled a gold chain out from his shirt collar. ¡°We have these. You break it if you¡¯re in mortal danger.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± said Nic, feeling like a fool. ¡°That¡¯s a good way to do it.¡±


    ¡°Do you really want me to summon them?¡±


    ¡°Yes, please,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°Are you sure? We¡¯re only meant to if it¡¯s something really important.¡±


    ¡°Yes. This is. I¡¯m sure it will be fine. And I¡¯m really sorry. If there¡¯s anything I can do to make it up to you¡­¡±


    ¡°Actually, there is,¡± said Quin.


    ¡°There is? What?¡±


    ¡°A lunch date.¡±


    Nic pulled a surprised face and Quin raised his hand to dismiss the idea in Nic¡¯s head. ¡°Not with you. The Archmage¡¯s daughter.¡±


    ¡°Simole?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Nothing fancy. Just at the cafeteria, her and me at a table. And lunch, of course.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re talking about Simole? Fierce girl with an asymmetrical haircut and a low tolerance for idiots. That Simole?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Is that so hard to understand? It¡¯s just lunch.¡±


    ¡°I suppose I could ask. I can¡¯t guarantee she¡¯ll say yes.¡±


    ¡°Obviously. I only need you to ask. These things don¡¯t happen if someone doesn¡¯t take the first step.¡±


    ¡°You could ask her yourself,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°Oh, no.¡± Quin looked horrified by the idea. ¡°I can¡¯t do that. What if she said no?¡± He shuddered. ¡°Too embarrassing. No, you just ask her on my behalf, a kind word or two about me being a decent sort of chap would be appreciated, but there¡¯s no need to force yourself, and we¡¯ll see what comes of it. Right, here we go.¡± He yanked at the chain around his neck and it snapped.


    Nic felt bad for what he¡¯d done. Quin did seem to be a decent sort of chap, willing to help, when asked. Even willing after he¡¯s been unjustly slapped. He even displayed a surprising amount of courage. There weren¡¯t many people who would take up the challenge of a date with Simole. She might accept just to see the kind of boy who would be so daring.


    Within a couple of seconds, the door opened and two agents came running into the classroom. They wore masks, one red, one green, but it was still obvious they were mildly confused about why they¡¯d been called. There didn¡¯t appear to be much of an emergency.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± said Nic, turning into something of a serial apologist. ¡°There¡¯s no emergency. I made him do it. I needed to speak to your commander but I have no way of getting in touch with you guys.¡±


    The two agents didn¡¯t speak, they just stood there. ¡°What is it you want?¡± said the red masked one, eventually.


    Nic began to feel this really was a terrible idea. What was he supposed to say? That he¡¯d like some lessons in self-defence?


    ¡°I was, er, hoping to speak to the Chief of Staff, actually. I don¡¯t suppose he¡¯s around?¡± He tried to imply what he had to say was only suitable for the ears of high-ranking individuals, but it sounded weak and unimportant.


    ¡°Alright,¡± said Red Mask. ¡°We have standing orders to notify command if you make contact. Come with us.¡±


    Nic let out a quiet sigh of relief. It would have made him look even more like a dummy if they¡¯d brushed him off.


    ¡°Don¡¯t forget,¡± said Quin.


    Nic nodded and waved at him apologetically as he left.


    Outside in the hallway, Dizzy was leaning against the wall, going over some notes. She was acting like she just happened to be there, minding her own business. As he walked past her, she said, ¡°Come to my room after you¡¯ve finished with the agents.¡±


    He was about to tell her he couldn¡¯t do that, he didn¡¯t know when that would be, but she was already walking away. As he turned back to keep up with the agents, he was sure he heard a very soft, ¡°Don¡¯t make me come find you.¡±


    The agents took him to a building near the main quad. It was like every other building only there were no children inside. It was a series of rooms like the classrooms he used, but with no blackboards and no desks and chairs. He was taken to a room with a fireplace and a sofa and told to wait.


    He sat down and tried to get comfortable for what he assumed would be quite a long wait, but the sofa wouldn¡¯t allow him to sit with any degree of stability and he kept sliding around. Was this part of some advanced interrogation technique? he wondered.


    The door opened again only about five minutes later, and the Chief of Staff himself entered, flanked by two different agents, blue and yellow masks, and bringing with him a wave of heavy pressure. Nic stood up, after a moment of struggling not to get eaten by the sofa.


    ¡°I hear you want to see me. What is it?¡± The Chief sounded abrupt and intimidating.


    ¡°Could you take off the mask, sir?¡± Nic asked as politely as he could. ¡°It¡¯s hard to think when you¡¯re wearing it.¡±


    The Chief sent away his escort and took off the silver demon mask, revealing his slightly less intimidating face and balding head. The pressure threatening to squash Nic abated and he was able to breathe normally again.


    ¡°Thank you. I¡¯m sorry to bother you like this, I¡¯m sure you¡¯re very busy.¡± Nic was talking as fast as he could but still seemed to be in the small talk end of the conversation.


    ¡°Yes, I am. Out with it.¡±


    ¡°Um, I noticed there weren¡¯t as many agents on the school grounds as before and I felt it would be a good idea if I had a way of contacting you in case¡­ well, just in case. It¡¯s actually quite difficult to speak to an agent now. I had to take some, um, uncomfortable steps to get their attention.¡±


    ¡°Yes, I heard. You want to be fitted with a device? It can be arranged. Is that all?¡±


    ¡°No. I mean, thank you. I also wondered if it would be possible for one of your agents to give me some training.¡±


    ¡°What kind of training?¡± asked the Chief.


    ¡°Nothing too crazy, just so I can defend myself, not against demons, against maybe someone from Gweur. No point me being able to call your agents for help if I¡¯m dead by the time they arrive.¡±


    ¡°Why Gweur?¡±


    ¡°Sorry?¡±


    ¡°Why did you say in case someone from Gweur might attack you? Do you have something they want? Have they been in contact with you?¡±


    ¡°No, no. Not that I¡¯m aware. I just used them as an example because of the problems we¡¯re having with them. I assume that¡¯s where all the agents have gone.¡±


    ¡°You assumed, did you? What else have you assumed?¡±


    ¡°Nothing, really. I ran into Minister Carmine, acting-Minister Carmine, and he seemed very jumpy about the whole thing when I suggested they might set a trap for our troops and get us to commit to an attack on their leadership.¡±


    The Chief¡¯s white eyebrows rose. ¡°That was you, was it? Good, I¡¯m glad someone knocked some sense into him. I was relieved when he called it off.¡±


    Nic still felt like he was imposing, but the impatience had eased off in the Chief¡¯s face. A little.


    ¡°I suppose we can get the agents still stationed here to run you through a couple of sessions. Not like they have much else to do. Let me see what I can do.¡±


    Nic was dismissed and led out by the same agents who had brought him, or ones with the same coloured masks. He was given a gold chain just like Quin¡¯s and told to only use it in case of a dire emergency.


    It was a relief to get out of the building and head back to his room. He had managed to get what he¡¯d wanted, but it had been far more difficult than he¡¯d imagined. It was probably going to be even harder with the other prospective tutors. He had to think through his approach and come up with a better plan.


    The campus was quiet, the break between the end of lessons and the start of the dinner service at the cafeteria. Nic walked with his head down and his mind full of different ways to requisition the help he needed from people who had no obligation to give it to him. When he looked up, he was outside the girls¡¯ dorm building.


    He had put Dizzy¡¯s ¡®invitation¡¯ out of his mind while he¡¯d been dealing with the Chief but now there was no avoiding it. He had to tell her he wasn¡¯t going to use her as his training coach at some point, and it would be easier to get it out of the way sooner rather than later.


    He walked into the building and was stopped by a stern-faced woman behind a door with the top half missing, like in a stable. She was sitting on a stool with a large ledger open in front of her.


    ¡°Name?¡±


    ¡°Nic Tutt.¡±


    ¡°I meant who you¡¯re here to see, but that¡¯s fine. You¡¯re expected, Mr Tutt. Sign here.¡±


    He signed the ledger and entered, surprised at how easy it had been to gain entry. But then, the woman had looked at him like he was the only one in danger here.


    He headed up several flights of stairs to the top floor. He had been here before with Dizzy so he knew the way.


    He made it without encountering any girls. He knocked lightly on Dizzy¡¯s door, ready to leave if she didn¡¯t answer, having done as he was asked. The door immediately flew open.


    ¡°Nic!¡± said Simole. ¡°If I¡¯d known you were coming, I¡¯d have baked a cake. Not really. I¡¯m terrible at baking. You should have brought me a cake. Did you?¡±


    Nic shook his head. ¡°Sorry.¡±


    ¡°Stop apologising for goodness sake and come in.¡±


    Nic entered and then stopped. Dizzy was sitting with her desk behind her, facing him with a look of dark focus as though there was no one else in the world right now apart from the two of them. He would have liked that feeling normally, but this felt like she was working out how to be the last person standing in some kind of survival game.


    ¡°Well?¡± she said. ¡°Don¡¯t you have something to tell me?¡±


    Nic tried to think of how to begin. Nothing came to mind.


    ¡°What¡¯s the matter? Did the Secret Service do something terrible to you? Please describe it in detail.¡±


    ¡°Give him a chance,¡± said Simole. ¡°He¡¯s obviously nervous, being alone in a bedroom with a girl he¡¯s incredibly attracted to, and also with you, Dizzy.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not nervous,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°But you¡¯re alone with girls, every adolescent¡¯s greatest desire, and also greatest fear. Look, this is an underwear drawer. Full of underwear. Feeling a bit hot and bothered now?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not interested in a girl¡¯s underwear,¡± said Nic. ¡°It¡¯s what¡¯s in the underwear that matters.¡±


    ¡°Aha!¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not how I meant it.¡±


    ¡°AHA!¡± insisted Simole.


    ¡°Simole, I have Winnum Roke in my head with me all the time. When I go to the bathroom, when I get changed, when I pick my nose. It was the same when I had the demon inside me. She wasn¡¯t technically female, but that¡¯s how I saw her. So, it really doesn¡¯t affect me anymore.¡±


    ¡°I see,¡± said Simole. ¡°So, if I made you strip naked right now, you¡¯d have no problem with it?¡±


    ¡°Of course, I would,¡± said Nic. ¡°My friend would be trying to humiliate me and that would make me very sad.¡±


    Simole¡¯s shoulders sagged. ¡°Now I feel bad. You really are no fun.¡±


    Nic smiled. ¡°I think you¡¯re fun, though. Also, a boy asked me if I would invite you on a lunch date with him.¡±


    ¡°Huh? Boy? Lunch? What?¡±


    ¡°He seemed quite a decent sort. Helped me get in touch with the Secret Service. I think his family¡¯s quite well off.¡±


    ¡°Are you suggesting I¡¯m a golddigger?¡± said Simole.


    ¡°No, I¡¯m saying gold comes free if you¡¯re interested. I¡¯ll point him¡ª¡±


    ¡°Ahem,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°If I could interrupt your social engineering for a moment, Nic, why did you go to see the Secret Service?¡±


    ¡°Oh, I asked them if they would train me. I think it would better than¡ª¡±


    Dizzy jumped out of the chair and grabbed Nic by the wrist. ¡°The truth.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean? That is the truth. Why are you holding my wrist?¡±


    ¡°I can tell if you¡¯re lying by the change in your pulse.¡± She stared at him, and then threw away his hand in disgust.


    ¡°What happened?¡± said Simole. ¡°He didn¡¯t even answer yet.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s no point,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°As soon as I touched him his heart started racing at a million beats per second.¡±


    ¡°Wow,¡± said Simole, ¡°the perfect counter.¡±


    ¡°You see?¡± said Nic, gently rubbing his wrist. ¡°I can¡¯t control myself around you. I¡¯ll learn quicker if I¡¯m not so distracted.¡±


    Dizzy stood with her arms folded across her stomach. ¡°Fine. Get out.¡±


    Nic considered that an easy escape and left. He arrived back home to find Davo, Fanny and Brill getting ready to go to the cafeteria. Nic changed into his running shorts and vest.


    ¡°Taking the training seriously this time, then?¡± said Davo. ¡°Wait, what¡¯s that gaudy chain you¡¯re wearing.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t like it?¡± said Nic.


    ¡°It¡¯s a little gauche, my friend. What¡¯s next? Large ruby ring on your little finger and get a couple of chambermaids pregnant? Nic the Cad.¡±


    It was only a thin chain, but it was rather showy.


    Nic went for a run, down to the main gates and out onto the road. He wanted to get away from the school, from the students, from all of it. He was going to take this seriously. The Secret Service would expect him to have at least a little stamina.


    His mind went blank as he ran. He could even get away from Winnum Roke like this, at least temporarily. He seemed to be able to keep going at a steady pace that he could have kept up for hours. It started to get dark and he saw the light of the capital up ahead. How far had he run?


    For a moment he felt exposed and vulnerable, but then his fingers felt the chain around his neck and he felt safe. He turned around and ran back.


    It was harder going on the way back, his breath short and sharp in his throat. The school walls finally appeared ahead of him and he headed around the back. He stopped when he reached the wall and looked up. It wasn¡¯t an easy climb, especially with how exhausted he felt, but he climbed it anyway. It was time he started taking on challenges.


    He landed inside the school grounds near the library, just as he¡¯d expected. He had arranged to meet the Librarian here. He had a lot of questions for her. Or him.


    It was late and no one was around. He had missed dinner and was hungry, but he could eat later. Fanny would have something in the pantry.


    The back door to the library was open. He went in and made his way up to the top floor. The hatch was open and the ladder had been lowered for him. He climbed up into the mirrored room. Mr Periwinkle was waiting for him.


    ¡°Hello, Nic,¡± she said.


    ¡°Hello, Nic,¡± said Hewt. And then Nic finally remembered. Brill was an only child.

 Book 2: Chapter Seventeen

    Nic was wearing shorts and a vest. The warmth of the library had come as a relief but up here in the mirrored room he was beginning to feel chilly again.


    Mr Periwinkle looked the same as before but the way he stood was different now. The posture was more feminine, the smile familiarly inscrutable. The Librarian had somehow transformed into his teacher. A typically demonic move but the Librarian wasn¡¯t a demon, or so she claimed. It didn¡¯t really matter that she had been here all this time, he didn¡¯t feel she was his enemy. It was actually nice to see her.


    Hewt, on the other hand, was an altogether harder presence to understand. Seeing him in this place made it completely clear that he shouldn¡¯t exist at all. Brillard didn¡¯t have any siblings, never had. So why had everyone accepted the new Epsteem so easily?


    ¡°You decided to give up the library for teaching?¡± he asked the Librarian. She seemed the safer person to interact with.


    ¡°Not exactly.¡± Her voice was still Periwinkle¡¯s, but the inflection was all hers. ¡°It seemed a less obtrusive way to remain close by.¡±


    ¡°I thought you couldn¡¯t change your shape,¡± said Nic. ¡°You said you weren¡¯t a demon. You said you were stuck as you were.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not what I said,¡± said the Librarian. ¡°But you¡¯re right, I cannot change shape. I am still in the same body I was the last time I saw you.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t look the same. You look like Mr Periwinkle.¡±


    ¡°I am Mr Periwinkle,¡± said the Librarian. ¡°I thought I did quite a good job.¡± She brushed back Periwinkle¡¯s blonde locks.


    ¡°How did you change the way you look? Magic?¡±


    She rolled up her sleeve to reveal an amulet wrapped around her forearm with small nodules covering it. She pressed some of them and her appearance changed to that of the Librarian, although still in Periwinkle¡¯s clothes, which made her even stranger to look at.


    ¡°And you¡­¡± He turned to Hewt. ¡°You must be a demon.¡±


    Hewt pursed his lips. ¡°You forget me so quickly.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re my demon.¡±


    That¡¯s a rather offensive way to put it, my child.¡±


    ¡°The last time I saw you, you were in a dragon.¡±


    ¡°I still am.¡±


    ¡°Dragons can turn into little boys?¡±


    ¡°And little boys can turn into dragons. Don¡¯t tell anyone or they might try to ride me into battle.¡± He smiled. It didn¡¯t look like the smile of twelve-year-old. It looked more like a small carnivorous beast.


    Nic felt like punching the little twerp on the nose but he doubted he¡¯d get anywhere close. The demon had transformed from a woman to an old man to a young boy, but it was still the same immensely powerful entity underneath it all. He had carried it around in his head long enough to know how dangerous it was, and how little it cared for etiquette. They were no longer in a truce. It wouldn¡¯t give him fair warning before it pounced.


    ¡°You don¡¯t exist, do you? I mean Hewton Epsteem doesn¡¯t exist. Brillard doesn¡¯t have a brother. How did you manage to fool everyone? A child suddenly appearing out of nowhere can¡¯t have gone unnoticed. The Royal College, the ministries, the Secret Service¡­ one of them must have realised you weren¡¯t supposed to be here.¡±


    ¡°It isn¡¯t as hard as you think. It starts with a source ¡ª the mother in this case ¡ª and you build from there. Such things are mere child¡¯s play.¡±


    The demon made it sound like a minor trick, a card summoned from a pack with invisible thread, but how do you convince a mother she has a second child? Did the mother have to have a deep yearning to be exploited? Could any woman be fooled into believing she had birthed an imaginary offspring, or just those with a desperate sadness? He didn¡¯t like the implication.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think it can have been that easy. Even if you have that much power, someone would notice.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re all too busy,¡± said the demon. ¡°Too many distractions.¡±


    ¡°Gweur? Is that your doing?¡± The uprising in Gweur had been started by the demon in the first place, so it made sense that they would be following the demon¡¯s orders.


    ¡°They were set in motion long ago. I have had no contact with them since we last met, I no longer control what they do or how they go about it, but I am confident in their ability to keep the Ranvar forces busy for the time being. Which gives us the perfect opportunity to get you ready.¡±


    There was that implication again, that he would jump at the chance to play the hero. ¡°What if I don¡¯t want to be part of any of this?¡±


    ¡°Then you don¡¯t have to be,¡± said the Librarian.


    ¡°But you do want to be part of this, don¡¯t you?¡± said the demon, a child with impossibly knowing eyes.


    ¡°No,¡± said Nic. ¡°Why would I want to be involved in any of this madness? I¡¯m completely out of my depth. What does any of this have to do with me? I¡¯m nobody, I haven¡¯t achieved anything. My whole life is completely unremarkable. Did you perhaps mistake me for someone else?¡±


    ¡°It isn¡¯t that simple,¡± said the Librarian.


    ¡°Isn¡¯t it? She just said it isn¡¯t as hard as I think. You two should really get your story straight.¡±


    ¡°You should reserve your anger for the High-Father,¡± said Hewt. ¡°You¡¯re going to need it.¡±


    It made no sense why they would focus so much attention on him. He understood when they used him as their delivery boy ¡ª his place could have been taken by anyone, he just happened to be convenient ¡ª but there was no reason to try to convince him he was someone vital to the cause. He wasn¡¯t. How could he be?


    ¡°I told you,¡± said Winnum Roke¡¯s voice, coming from the amulet on the Librarian¡¯s arm. ¡°You were one of many candidates. The only one to come this far. If we could have chosen someone else, we would have seriously considered it.¡±


    ¡°Now that the three of you are finally together, can¡¯t you leave me alone.¡± He looked at the Librarian. ¡°Is she in there now?¡±


    ¡°This is just a way to amplify her voice. She is still inside you.¡±


    ¡°Can you take her out of me? Without cutting me open?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said the Librarian, which wasn¡¯t what he wanted to hear.


    ¡°No, you can¡¯t take her out, or no, you can¡¯t take her out without cutting me open?¡±


    ¡°It has to be you, child,¡± said the demon, a child itself.


    ¡°Why?¡± It was almost a desperate cry that came out of Nic¡¯s mouth.


    ¡°Because we have tested you,¡± said the demon. ¡°We have put you in harm¡¯s way and given you the chance to save yourself, but you have refused. Your humanity is modulated by intelligence.¡±


    Nic turned to the Librarian, lost. ¡°What does that mean?¡±


    ¡°The girl who you like,¡± said the Librarian, ¡°she is just out of your reach, is she not?¡±


    Nic only found it more confusing to bring Dizzy into this. ¡°I suppose you could put it like that. What has she got to do with any of this?¡±


    ¡°You want to know what we see in you,¡± said the Librarian, ¡°I¡¯m using her as an example. You¡¯re a smart boy, Nicolav, you¡¯re good at figuring things out. Surely you must have thought of numerous ways to get her to like you, to admire you, to respect you. Maybe even love you.¡±


    ¡°No. Why would I do that?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not saying to act on them, but a mind like yours must have approached the problem as a puzzle. How to convince her she should consider you more seriously. Defeat her in battle, help her to achieve her goals, reach her true potential¡­¡±


    ¡°Manipulate her into falling for me, you mean? That¡¯s not¡­ that would defeat the whole point.¡±


    ¡°What point, Nic?¡± said the Librarian.


    ¡°If I changed her to make her like me, she wouldn¡¯t be her anymore. You can¡¯t have what you want if you change it to get it.¡±


    ¡°She would be the same person on the inside,¡± said the Librarian.


    ¡°That¡¯s immaterial. It¡¯s the person on the outside who I know.¡±


    ¡°Few people think like that,¡± said the demon. ¡°Few of your people and few of the people in the worlds we have visited.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s because the way I think doesn¡¯t get me anything,¡± said Nic bitterly. There was no reward for his way of thinking.


    ¡°No, it doesn¡¯t. But it can. You can be trusted with power because of it.¡±


    ¡°What power? Arcanum?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said the demon. ¡°Another power. A greater power.¡±


    ¡°You have to understand the nature of the High-Father,¡± said the Librarian. ¡°What it is that we¡­ what you think of as demons¡­ what it is we do.¡±


    ¡°Okay,¡± said Nic. ¡°Tell me.¡±


    ¡°We travel to worlds,¡± said the demon. ¡°We give the people we find power beyond their imagination, and we wait.¡±


    ¡°Wait for what?¡± said Nic.


    The Librarian said, ¡°For them to grow, to expand their reach beyond stability, become as advanced as their potential allows. And then for them to turn on each other, to destroy everything, including the world they live in.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± said Nic.


    ¡°That¡¯s the deal,¡± said Winnum. ¡°They offer us power for the chance to exist within us. They set no time limit. When a race dies out, they will emerge. They won¡¯t attempt to hasten the process or interfere, and they don¡¯t. The simple act of handing over power is enough to doom that race to oblivion, far sooner than they would otherwise.¡±This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    ¡°Too soon, in most cases,¡± said the demon. ¡°In this world, we attempted to slow the process. By giving power to only one nation, we were able to control the chaos, at least for a time.¡±


    ¡°So it¡¯s our own fault?¡± said Nic. ¡°We would be able to enjoy the power we¡¯re given for as long as we want, but we succumb to greed and madness?¡±


    ¡°It always comes down to that,¡± said the Librarian.


    ¡°And you don¡¯t do anything to speed things along?¡± asked Nic.


    The Librarian shook her head. ¡°No need.¡±


    ¡°So we¡¯re doomed?¡± said Nic. ¡°Getting magical power is the start of our inevitable demise?¡±


    He didn¡¯t find it hard to believe civilisations had quickly come to a bloody end once they had been granted immeasurable power. The idea the recipients would shake hands and have a big celebratory meal, congratulating each other on having unlocked the secrets of the universe did not strike him as a very likely outcome.


    The shocking history of his own world was enough to assure him men would only become more extreme when given better weapons to fight with. And more deceitful with those they considered their rivals for power. Being able to utilise the most fundamental and secret aspects of magic was merely a stepping stone towards absolute control. There was no way it would be done as a cooperative venture.


    But it didn¡¯t inspire him to jump into the fray, protector of the planet.


    ¡°There is still time,¡± said Winnum. ¡°You can stop him.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t see how I can,¡± said Nic. ¡°Even if you give me a magic wand and all the power there is, he is still stronger and more powerful. And he probably knows what he¡¯s doing.¡± He looked at the Librarian and the demon. ¡°There must be a better person for this role. It can¡¯t be me.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not that someone else could use the power better, it¡¯s that they aren¡¯t able to acquire it. Only you are suitable for this task. Only you can learn this magic.¡±


    Even though it felt ridiculous, part of him wanted to believe he really was the right person for this. In his mind, he welcomed the opportunity to take a ridiculously huge risk with extremely poor odds of success, just on the off chance he might succeed. No one was telling him he would survive, even, but they wouldn¡¯t have selected him if that wasn¡¯t at least likely, would they?


    He didn¡¯t trust his hope, though. It felt very much like the story the Librarian had given him. He was the female mage willing to sacrifice everything for a chance to attain the ultimate prize. Her eventual victory made him feel like he too would defy the odds. Dizzy had called it a lie, more warning than temptation.


    But that was a story, and you could give a story any ending you wished. It felt real because it was possible. Seeing it clearly spelled out made it more solid and graspable than failure, even though failure was by far the more likely. Demon magic relied heavily on this ability to shape concepts into reality, and it worked. It made you want it to be true.


    It wasn¡¯t a lie. No one claimed it was guaranteed ¡ª quite the opposite. They emphasised how unlikely it was. But put the positive outcome in picture form, in your head, and it took shape in there, height and depth and width, and made itself a reachable destination. A desirable one that attracted you, while thoughts of failing were repulsive and sent you reeling away from them.


    ¡°I think you¡¯re not telling me the whole truth,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°No one knows the whole truth,¡± said the demon, which was a very demonic thing to say.


    ¡°I only want to know the whole truth you know,¡± said Nic. ¡°What you don¡¯t know isn¡¯t expected.¡± He waited for some vague, enigmatic response.


    ¡°Very well,¡± said the demon. ¡°You need to go to the Librarium. There you will find the answer you seek. There you will find the High-Father. There you will find the creature he built. It is this creature that will give you the power to defeat him.¡±


    ¡°In the Librarium?¡± Nic had been a regular visitor to the Librarium. His many trips to the capital had always been to explore the largest library in Ranvar and he knew it well. It had a lot of books but no creature which bestowed power on people as far as he knew. Although there were a couple of locked rooms he had assumed contained dusty boxes of old books no one wanted to read anymore; an image he found far more appealing than some creature produced by the Father of Dragons. ¡°Where in the Librarium?¡±


    The Librarian, who still looked bizarre in Periwinkle¡¯s attire, but whose posture made her completely different to him in every other way, said, ¡°The Librarium isn¡¯t as simple a structure as you think. It is part of the creature.¡±


    It was difficult for Nic to grasp what she meant. Some kind of beast with a library on its back like a shell made of learning? A monster tortoise.


    ¡°And that¡¯s where you think the High-Father is now?¡±


    ¡°It is undoubtedly where he is now,¡± said the demon.


    ¡°And you want me to go there?¡± His inflection made it clear he didn¡¯t think this was a well thought out plan. ¡°Why don¡¯t you three go? I think you¡¯d have a much better chance of getting whatever it is you want.¡±


    ¡°We cannot,¡± said the Librarian. ¡°The High-Father would not allow it.¡±


    ¡°But he would allow me?¡± At least logic was on his side. Even if he wanted to believe their claims that he was the only one to play the hero in this battle to avert imminent doom, common sense very clearly suggested otherwise. ¡°You want me, a schoolboy, to go into the den of the person you claim will destroy the world, get access to the creature he created ¡ª so his pet ¡ª and get the creature to make me a powerful mage able to wield a new kind of magic which you aren¡¯t able to describe in any detail.¡±


    He paused to draw breath, and also to let them have a moment to come up with a reasonable explanation of why any of this was possible. He would be interested in hearing it.


    No one said anything.


    He added, ¡°I think I would be more inclined to go along with this project of yours if at some point one of you had mentioned how I was going to achieve any of this or gave me a device to make it possible. Perhaps a magic hat that makes wishes come true. But then, you already have that ability, so I feel any one of you is better qualified.¡±


    ¡°It has to be you,¡± said Winnum.


    ¡°Why? Because I¡¯m special?¡±


    ¡°Because you are adequate,¡± said the demon.


    ¡°Please,¡± said Nic, his dismay at their offer to turn him into the world¡¯s saviour rapidly shrinking into something more focused and intense and angry, ¡°you¡¯ll make me blush.¡± He glared at them, daring them to try again. ¡°Clearly, I fit some basic requirement for this task, and probably only just. And once I complete it, assuming I don¡¯t die along the way, you will turn me into a puppet without me even realising it and control me far more easily than someone who might actually be properly qualified to defeat the High-Father, but who wouldn¡¯t be happy to give up their newly acquired dominion over the land.¡±


    It was obvious they wanted to use him as a tool. They had done it before and they had the means to do it again. Even the fact Hewt existed showed the power they wielded over him, able to make him believe whatever they wished him to believe. The only thing that didn¡¯t make sense was why they were trying to convince him to do any of this. Why not just force him?


    ¡°The High-Father found the blueprint for a terrifying creature on another world,¡± said the Librarian. ¡°A world that creature had destroyed before we got there. He has rebuilt it here, but it ignores him. He cannot make it bend to his will. We believe you can.¡±


    ¡°What kind of creature is it?¡± said Nic.


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t breathe,¡± said the demon, ¡°it doesn¡¯t eat, it doesn¡¯t move.¡±


    ¡°It sounds like it¡¯s dead.¡±


    ¡°It talks too much to be dead,¡± said the demon. ¡°It has told us what it is looking for ¡ª it is looking for someone who will wield the power it can give without abuse.¡±


    ¡°And that¡¯s me? What makes you think I won¡¯t become corrupted?¡±


    ¡°You wouldn¡¯t want to disappoint the girl,¡± said the demon, smiling its beastly smile.


    ¡°I think you overestimate my feelings for her,¡± said Nic, finding the words odd to say out loud. Were they overestimating his feelings? Was he?


    ¡°Yes, quite possibly,¡± said Winnum. ¡°But you have an advantage over the rest of us.¡±


    ¡°That I¡¯m adequate?¡±


    ¡°He starts to understand,¡± said the demon. ¡°The fit is more important than the polish.¡±


    ¡°Isn¡¯t this what your story warned against,¡± Nic said to the Librarian. ¡°The attraction of happy endings.¡±


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t my story. It was yours. I merely helped you find it.¡±


    He didn¡¯t believe that, but he let it go. ¡°Wasn¡¯t the ending a lie to encourage me to do as you want?¡±


    ¡°The story wasn¡¯t a lie,¡± said the Librarian, ¡°it was an awakening. The desired outcome exists, that is all the story tells you. There are infinite ways to get there, as there are to anywhere. The storyteller doesn¡¯t show you the path, it is the existence of paths that you need to learn.¡±


    ¡°So I should build my own path? Towards the destination you choose for me?¡± said Nic.


    ¡°It is the destination that will stop this world from collapsing into chaos,¡± said the demon.


    ¡°Years from now. Hundreds of years, probably.¡±


    ¡°Time is meaningless,¡± said the demon.


    ¡°To you,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°No, it means a great deal to us. But you don¡¯t even see it. You think it is something on the outside to observe, a clock that informs you of the sun¡¯s movements. It exists only inside yourself. You stand. You walk. You run. That is time. You stand, you continue to stand, you remain standing, no time passes. You are unchanged.¡±


    ¡°Time only advances if I do?¡± said Nic. ¡°So if I do nothing but watch a candle burn down from top to bottom, no time has passed?¡±


    ¡°Only for the candle,¡± said the demon. ¡°But if you think, imagine, create ideas, then you take control of time and move it as you will. It is a power greater than Arcanum.¡±


    ¡°I can travel through time?¡± said Nic. ¡°Go back in history?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said the demon. ¡°Time is not something to enter and exit.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t understand,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°You cannot see it any other way than how you have been taught. I understand. But the High-Father¡¯s creature can show you.¡±


    ¡°Even if the High-Father does all the things you say, brings destruction to us, I won¡¯t be alive to see it.¡±


    ¡°But your children will,¡± said Winnum. ¡°Yours and hers.¡±


    It was the image again. The idea of victory to tempt him to take the risk. Yours and hers. Not necessarily yours and hers. There were no promises, just possibilities.


    ¡°Why do you even want to stop him?¡± said Nic to the demon. ¡°Why do you care what happens to us?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t,¡± said the demon. ¡°I abhor change. It pushes us through time and makes us stronger, but it strips us to the core. The exterior is lost. It is the person on the outside who I know. I don¡¯t wish to lose myself again.¡±


    They were his own words, his way of seeing people. The demons were reborn each time they transformed inside their hosts. A rebirth requires death, not an end to life in this case but of something he valued far more. The demon valued it too.


    ¡°How will I get into the Librarium? Won¡¯t the High-Father stop me?¡±


    ¡°He will welcome you,¡± said the demon. ¡°He is waiting for you.¡±


    ¡°You told him I was coming?¡±


    ¡°How could we?¡± said the Librarian. ¡°We didn¡¯t know if you would accept the invitation.¡±


    ¡°I think you did know.¡±


    ¡°Of course we did,¡± said Winnum, smugly. ¡°It is what makes you so adequate for the task.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m only going because a creature that doesn¡¯t eat and can¡¯t move won¡¯t be able to eat me or chase me.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re going because you are curious what this creature from another world can teach you,¡± said Winnum. ¡°Which is the best reason.¡±


    That much was true, he was curious. But the rest seemed like a fanciful dream. That he would claim some astounding power and use it to prevent the High-Father from bringing destruction to the world at some unknown point in the future, what kind of a non-urgent threat was that to counter?


    ¡°I think I should go home now,¡± he said, feeling the exhaustion of all that running start to make his bones ache. He¡¯d probably be sore in the morning.


    ¡°Don¡¯t be late for class,¡± said the Librarian, her posture reverting to Mr Periwinkle¡¯s. ¡°We¡¯re going on a field trip to the capital.¡±


    Nic left the library and made his way back to the cottage. He was hungry and cold, and jogged to keep warm.


    The lights were on in the various rooms but he entered quietly so as to not attract attention. He wanted to at least get changed into something warm before having to answer questions about where he¡¯d been.


    He closed his bedroom door quietly before turning on the light.


    ¡°Where have you been?¡± said Dizzy, sitting on his bed. How long had she been sitting there in the dark?


    ¡°I went out for a run,¡± he said truthfully. ¡°Lost track of time. Almost ended up in the capital. I think I¡¯m getting quite fit now.¡±


    ¡°And then where did you go? Don¡¯t lie to me. I can feel you holding something back. And stop looking at me like that.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m cold and I want to get changed.¡±


    ¡°So? Who¡¯s stopping you.¡±


    He looked at her icy face rigid with anger and resentment. Did she feel anything else towards him? Had she ever?


    ¡°Simole said you had a dream about having a child.¡±


    ¡°Female mages can¡¯t have children,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°Not if they wish to remain alive.¡±


    ¡°It can¡¯t stop you dreaming about it. Who was the father of your child?¡±


    ¡°Dreams don¡¯t predict the future, Nic.¡±


    ¡°I know. They just show you a destination, and the fact there¡¯s a path to it. Many paths. I¡¯m curious which you saw.¡±


    Her jaw tightened and then she turned around and went to the window. She pushed it open as she jumped up on the sill like it was a tiny step up, even though it was halfway up the wall. She looked back at him. ¡°I can feel you getting ready for something. You don¡¯t have to worry about which path I¡¯ll take. Wherever you plan on going, that¡¯s where my path will take me.¡± She jumped out of the window and was gone.


    Nic shivered in the cold night breeze, exhausted and numb, but he found her threatening words reassuring and couldn¡¯t stop smiling at her obstinance, refusing to let him give up the thing he valued most.

 No chapter today

    Taking this week off. Feeling a bit beat and not in the right frame of mind for Nic and friends. Back next week as usual. Need to take the occasional week off so my brain doesn''t melt. Apologies and thank you for understanding.


    If you haven''t checked out my new story ''Deeper Darker'' please give it a try. A mixture of science fiction and my usual set of oddball characters. 20+ chapters already up.This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    Join my Discord for updates and new stuff: LINK</a>


    You can find more of my stories on my personal site: MoodyLit.com</a>

 Book 2: Chapter Eighteen

    He thought his heart had stopped because he couldn¡¯t hear it. Everything was so still and silent. It was the smell that brought him round. The smell of his mother¡¯s kitchen.


    The kitchen table was covered in books and pens and papers. He could date the moment by the stationery. This would be when he was around seven.


    His mother sat opposite him, holding a sheet of paper in her hand, a look of intense concentration on her face. She was studying a problem. Her eyes flicked in his direction and then back to the page.


    ¡°You¡¯re sure the teacher wanted you to answer this question? This question?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± he heard his own voice say, but in a soft, girlish tone. Was that what he sounded like as a child? Was it what he imagined he sounded like or maybe what someone else imagined he sounded like?


    He recalled this moment, although he had no idea if the details were accurate. A sunny day? A glass of milk? These added a layer of realism to the scene that he had no way of being able to verify.


    It had been the first time the teacher had decided to set him work outside of the regular homework she set everyone else. The class were working on memorising their times table. He had been given a set of more advanced equations to familiarise himself with.


    ¡°Well,¡± said his mother, ¡°first you should drink your milk. A healthy body helps to maintain a healthy mind. Your father always drank a glass of milk in the morning.¡±


    It was rare for her to talk about his father. It was rare for her to give him advice ¡ª how long had it been since she¡¯d done that?


    ¡°What else did he do?¡± His voice didn¡¯t sound girlish anymore, it sounded like him now.


    His mother didn¡¯t seem to notice the change in pitch. ¡°Oh, he was quite the man of habit. Every morning, a glass of milk, a banana ¡ª he preferred them slightly overripe but he didn¡¯t mind them however, as long as they weren¡¯t too hard ¡ª and a boiled egg. Then he would spend a good ten minutes in the bathroom and you certainly wouldn¡¯t want to go in there once he¡¯d finished.¡±


    She grinned mischievously at him. She looked so young.


    ¡°What if there were no bananas?¡± he asked.


    ¡°How dare you?¡± said his mother with mock outrage. ¡°What kind of a housekeeper do you take me for? There should always be a banana in the pantry.¡±


    He watched her mouth laugh.


    ¡°How did he die?¡±


    This was a dream, of course. Nic couldn¡¯t tell if it was a genuine memory dredged out of some dark recess of his mind or completely fabricated like a play on a stage, based on a true story. It was more than likely a concoction of one of the many people who had access to his mental processes and worked to influence his thoughts through pictures in his head, but he was also one of those people. It could be a message to himself.


    But his mother never spoke about his father, and he had never forced the issue. Partly because he didn¡¯t want to upset her and partly because he doubted she had been told the truth.


    Here, though, he felt he could ask without fear of causing her pain. But then, what value would such an answer have?


    ¡°They told me he died of fear,¡± she said calmly, her mood soft and wistful, like she was remembering a distant summer whose memory made the recent summers seem less pleasant. ¡°They told me that he faced a hideous enemy and defeated it, but he was left in a terrible state and when he looked down at himself and saw what he had become, his heart could not accept it and the thought of subjecting others to his dreadful appearance scared him to death. And so the life left his body.¡±


    Her words seemed to roll across the kitchen table, tumbling over one another. Had she ever spoken to him like this? It sounded like her but also not like her. He suspected the hand of another at work. Winnum Roke? It was hard to say.


    It didn¡¯t really matter to him. She was telling him something worth more to him than simple facts.


    ¡°What kind of a soldier was he?¡±


    ¡°The kind you could rely on. They would always send him on the most important missions. If they wanted to make sure the job was done properly, they would call for your father. He didn¡¯t spend his time standing in a line with twenty others, marching back and forth, matching uniforms and shiny buttons. He had those, of course, but I never had to have them cleaned. Too busy to ever get them dirty.¡±


    It was a pleasant thought, to imagine his father as a celebrated officer who saved the nation. A hero. But from what he had managed to learn, his father was just another soldier in the Third Infantry, The Ranvar Bold, with a grand total of two medals to his name. One for serving for more than a year, and the other for dying.


    Which didn¡¯t necessarily mean that was the sum achievement of his military career. The rest of his records were sealed, which was unusual. The official reason given was because of the sensitive nature of the battle he¡¯d died in. It may have been an encounter that wasn¡¯t authorised. The location might cause diplomatic problems if they had been on foreign soil without permission. There may have been civilian deaths involved. There were many legitimate reasons why the records would be kept out of public hands. Except, none of the other members of his platoon had had their records withheld.


    ¡°He told me before he left, he said, Milly, don¡¯t let our child grow up to be a soldier. He should not fight on the orders of others, only for himself.¡±


    ¡°What else did he tell you?¡± asked Nic.


    ¡°He said, ¡®A good dog obeys but a better dog knows when to disobey.¡¯¡±


    ¡°What else?¡±


    ¡°He said, ¡®There¡¯s no need to fear a dragon. They are more afraid of you.¡¯ I told him I thought he was confusing them with spiders, but he said, no, they look nothing alike.¡±


    Nic heard himself laughing and his mother smiled.


    ¡°You remind me so much of him.¡±


    He woke in the dark. He still had his shorts and vest on from his run earlier, he could feel the air on his exposed limbs. There were two figures standing at the foot of his bed, their shadowed faces unnaturally outlined away from their heads.


    Nic did not feel fear. His mind was still wrestling with what his mother had said and the meaning of it, if it had any meaning.


    The men at the end of his bed ¡ª their size suggested men rather than women, but he was only guessing ¡ª felt familiar to him and unthreatening. He was only guessing about that, too.


    Nic slowly sat up, propped on his elbows. His eyes adjusting in degrees as his viewing angle changed. ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°We were sent to start your training,¡± said the Secret Service agent on the left. His mask was a lighter colour, possibly white, which made him easier to see, although all he could see was the mask. The other agent had a darker colour but revealed no more or less for it.


    ¡°The Chief sent you?¡± Nic had felt alert when he¡¯d been asleep, now he felt groggy. ¡°Isn¡¯t it a bit early?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said the darker mask. ¡°Get up.¡± He sounded less happy about being here. Probably because it was so early.


    Nic forced himself to his feet, which helped him overcome his mental sluggishness quite a lot. Leaving bed sent a signal for him to stop trying to get back to sleep and he was able to switch to a more awake state of mind. ¡°I¡¯m ready. What are we going to do?¡±


    ¡°Come with us,¡± said the lighter mask.


    ¡°Alright. Where are we¡ª¡±


    Something covered Nic¡¯s eyes.


    Cold bit into him. The hairs on his arms rose and the ground beneath his bare feet went from hard to soft.


    His eyes were uncovered and he was no longer in his room. He was outside, in a courtyard he didn¡¯t recognise. There was a faded brick arch that had similar architecture to the school, so he assumed he was still on the grounds, somewhere.


    Nic shivered. ¡°It¡¯s a bit cold.¡±


    The two agents ¡ª he assumed they were the same two ¡ª were standing in front of him. In the light of the lanterns hanging on the walls their masks looked black and white.


    ¡°You¡¯ll warm up in a bit,¡± said White.


    ¡°That will be your opponent,¡± said Black, pointing behind Nic.


    He turned around to find a series of wooden poles sticking out of the ground. They were twice his height and topped off with sharp points.


    Nic moved closer to inspect them and to try and figure out what he was supposed to do. Climb them? They weren¡¯t very thick. He could just about enclose one with both hands forming a circle. There were eight poles lined up in a row.


    ¡°What do you want me to do?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Climb up and walk along the top,¡± said Black.


    As soon as the agent said what needed to be done, Nic could see how to do it. The only problem was that he saw how Dizzy would do it.


    ¡°I can climb a bit but I don¡¯t think I can¡ª¡±


    ¡°Like this,¡± said White.


    He took two loping steps forward and hopped into the air. He placed a foot on the second pole about a metre up, pushed off it and used his other foot to push off the first pole. Then the second again, then the first, then the second. He landed lightly on the tip of the first pole.


    Nic looked up at the white mask looking down at him.


    The agent was balancing on one foot. Then he walked from one pole to the next like stepping stones until he reached the end. He turned around with a flick of his leg that spun him around, and walked back.


    Nic had backed away to watch. It looked simple enough in terms of objective, but it wasn¡¯t a case of working out what to do, you had to have the ability to do it.


    ¡°How?¡± he blurted out as an amalgam of everything he wanted to say about the futility of asking him to do this. ¡°I can¡¯t even get up there.¡±


    ¡°You have to think it through,¡± said White, jumping down next to him. ¡°This is a technique to connect your mind to your body. The tips are sharp enough to draw blood but controlling the amount of pressure you exert through your foot can nullify the effect. The height adds an added concern that you might fall but the technique is the same even if you were only a few centimetres off the ground. The poles are thin and will move, making it hard to balance, but you can use their movement to your advantage.¡±


    Nic understood what the agent was telling him, but that still didn¡¯t mean he¡¯d be able to complete the exercise. Physical ability was required. Ability he didn¡¯t have and that would take a fair amount of time to acquire.


    ¡°I don¡¯t suppose this is a thought experiment, is it?¡± asked Nic. ¡°A metaphor?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said Black. ¡°You have to go up there.¡±


    He had requested the Secret Service take over his training but this hadn¡¯t been quite what he¡¯d expected. What had he expected? They¡¯d teach him the secret handshake and he¡¯d be qualified to use the special Secret Service gymnasium, membership fees waived?


    ¡°I don¡¯t have any shoes on,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°It¡¯s easier without shoes,¡± said Black.


    If they wanted him to try, he would try. They were the ones who would have to report back to the Chief that their methods hadn¡¯t worked.


    Nic ran forward and jumped. His right foot connected with the second pole, just like the agent had but not so high up. He kicked off, but the pole didn¡¯t give him anything to push against. It leaned away, towards the third pole. The movement was completely understandable, but that wasn¡¯t what had happened when the agent had done more or less the same thing. More, Nic guessed, rather than less.


    Nic¡¯s foot slid off the pole and he landed on the ground. It was slightly wet grass, but soft, which more than made up for the unwelcome moisture. He lay there, staring up at the poles stretching all the way to the stars.


    ¡°You have to face what you fear,¡± said White, his mask appearing overhead. ¡°What are you most afraid of?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°You don¡¯t fear anything?¡± asked White, the blankness of his mask not matching the surprise in his voice.


    ¡°I fear too many things to pick a favourite,¡± said Nic.


    White nodded. ¡°When I was a boy, the river near my home burst its banks and flooded the surrounding area. Everything was washed away. Buildings, animals, vehicles. We ran, taking nothing with us and returned after the waters subsided to find everything ruined. My father saw the life he had spent building gone in a night and he didn¡¯t want to start again. He gave up and refused to rebuild. My fear is that one day I will lose everything and not be able to find the strength to start again.¡±Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.


    ¡°And that made you able to leap tremendous height?¡± asked Nic.


    ¡°Once you let go of your fear,¡± said the agent, ¡°anything is possible.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think that¡¯s true,¡± said Nic. ¡°Knowing what you fear doesn¡¯t change anything.¡±


    ¡°Not know, realise. Make real. That¡¯s what realise means. What do you fear, really? All your fears are one, if you look closely enough.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what realise means?¡± said Black, incredulous. ¡°What are you talking about?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m trying to inspire him,¡± said White. ¡°Maybe he¡¯ll get there quicker. I had plans for tonight.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s going to think we¡¯re some kind of mystical cult.¡± Black¡¯s voice was full of disapproval.


    They seemed to have forgotten about him as they bickered. Nic was still on the ground. If he got up they¡¯d probably make him try again. The result would be the same, he was pretty sure.


    Try another way, perhaps? The task was to get up there, he didn¡¯t have to use their methods.


    He got to his feet and went up to the first pole and grabbed it with both hands. The surface was smooth and polished. Nothing to get a grip on.


    Nic looked back at the two agents. Dawn¡¯s first light was appearing behind them, just a hint of blush on the horizon.


    With no guidance and no training, failure was inevitable. The lack of fitness and talent didn¡¯t help, either. He jumped and grabbed onto the pole as high up as he could reach. His hands seemed to stick to it. His feet were bare and dirty, grit between his toes. He managed to wrap himself around the pole and clung on like a monkey.


    He stayed there for a few seconds. Any movement would send him sliding back down. What was he meant to learn from this?


    ¡°Stop thinking,¡± said Black.


    Was that the lesson? Allow yourself to act on instinct? Fail and grow persistent? Failure taught you many things but it rarely made you stronger. And he wasn¡¯t even afraid to fail. He was afraid that even after he obtained the skills to succeed, he still wouldn¡¯t be good enough. What excuses would he have then?


    He could see Dizzy climbing the pole ahead of him, her hands reaching up and pulling her body into an inverted vertical, her feet pointing at the stars, latching onto the pointed tip with her insteps pressed together. Then her hands letting go and her body bending at the waist, hands going from the middle of the pole to the top. Effortless.


    She was his continuous distraction, all the more effective for his willingness to let himself be tempted. The Librarian had said he should have been able to come up with a plan to win her over, but the truth was he should have been able to formulate a plan to keep her away. Once he did that, he would be free to do whatever was necessary. But he didn¡¯t want to. Even though at some point her importance to him would become apparent to those who needed him out of the way. They would use her against him and he would be helpless. Nothing scared him more than that.


    He fell off the pole.


    ¡°Good,¡± said Black. ¡°I can see the problem. Turn over.¡±


    Nic was confused but he rolled over onto his front.


    ¡°Your hamstrings are too tight. Your calves, also.¡±


    There was a sharp pain in the back of his leg and he let out a yelp.


    ¡°You spend a lot of time sitting, don¡¯t you?¡±


    Short, sharp hits pummeled him along the length of his leg, first one, then the other. Each strike forced air out of Nic¡¯s mouth. He assumed there was a good reason for what the agent was doing, but it felt like he was getting a beating.


    Hands grabbed his shoulder and pulled him erect.


    ¡°Someone your age shouldn¡¯t be in this sort of condition.¡± It took a moment to realise the hands had let go and he was supporting himself. His legs felt completely different. Like they weren¡¯t really attached to him.


    ¡°Try again,¡± said Black.


    Nic took two steps forward, moving his feet like he was operating a puppet on strings. He jumped, bounced off the second pole, bounced off the first pole, missed the second pole and landed in a heap.


    He fell from a much greater height this time and it hurt more. He didn¡¯t mind. He had almost done it.


    ¡°Good,¡± said Black.


    ¡°Might be hope for you after all,¡± said White.


    Nic stood up. His legs felt heavy again. ¡°I think whatever you did is wearing off.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t do anything, that¡¯s how you¡¯re supposed to feel. You need to do a lot more stretching. It¡¯s going to hurt at first, but there¡¯s no point trying to get stronger if you¡¯re only using part of your body. You have to regain full range of motion.¡±


    ¡°And face what you fear,¡± said White.


    ¡°Will you stop?¡±


    ¡°What? It¡¯s important to make a mind-body connection. Fear is primal. It¡¯s the easiest way.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll only confuse him.¡±


    ¡°No, no. He gets it now, don¡¯t you? When you first saw the poles, what did you think? Difficult?¡±


    ¡°I thought it would be impossible.¡±


    ¡°And now?¡±


    Nic looked at the poles. ¡°Possible.¡±


    ¡°See?¡±


    ¡°That had nothing to do with your primal mind-body connection.¡±


    ¡°Speeded things up.¡±


    ¡°No, it didn¡¯t. Ignore him. I¡¯ll write up a list of stretches you need to do every morning and evening. It¡¯ll take you about an hour. Do them.¡±


    ¡°I understand. Thank you. I¡¯m very¡ª¡±


    It went dark again. Nic couldn¡¯t tell if there was a blindfold over his eyes or a bag or what. When he could see again, he was back in his room, alone.


    Nic felt weak and small and failed. And also exhilarated. He came out of his bedroom covered in dirt and sweat.


    ¡°Rough night?¡± asked Fanny, who was coming out of the kitchen with a bowl of something he was rapidly transferring to his mouth.


    ¡°Yeah. I had a lot of weird dreams.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± said Fanny. ¡°Anyone we know?¡±


    ¡°Who else?¡± said Davo, as he came out of the kitchen in a bathrobe, drying his hair with a towel. ¡°The girl, it¡¯s always that girl.¡±


    ¡°It was my mother, actually.¡±


    ¡°Guilt,¡± said Fanny with understanding. ¡°I get that, too.¡±


    ¡°She was giving me advice, at the kitchen table.¡±


    ¡°Because you never listen to her,¡± said Fanny. ¡°It¡¯s your subconscious telling you to write her a letter. What was the advice she gave you? Do you remember?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Always keep some bananas in the pantry.¡±


    Fanny stopped eating. ¡°That is actually good advice.¡±


    ¡°Do you have a banana in your pantry?¡± asked Davo.


    ¡°That¡¯s rather a personal question,¡± said Fanny.


    ***


    Nic showered and changed and the four of them went to breakfast. The Arts Course was his first lesson of the day. Brill and Nic headed there together and picked up Carol on the way. They arrived in class to find the three girls already in their seats and Mr Periwinkle at his desk.


    Nic had done his best not to think about what he would say to Mr Periwinkle. Were they meant to pretend they didn¡¯t have a relationship outside of the classroom, that he didn¡¯t know the Librarian was his teacher in disguise? Obviously he was, but he worried about how to not make it awkward. There were people here who would be able to see something strange was going on. He went to his desk and sat down, already feeling eyes on him. It was just his imagination, he thought, but when he glanced over his shoulder Dizzy was staring at him.


    He put it down to coincidence. It wasn¡¯t like he was ever not awkward in her presence. His natural bumbling around her would cover for his lies and secrets. He could still feel her eyes on his back.


    ¡°A change of plans,¡± said Mr Periwinkle. Nic watched him stand up behind his desk, looking for any telltale signs of the Librarian leaking out. ¡°Today, we will be going on a field trip to the capital.¡±


    A murmur of surprise passed between the six of them.


    ¡°To be more exact,¡± continued Periwinkle, ¡°to the Librarium. I think it would help you understand what it is you¡¯ve signed up for if you learn a little more about what it takes to become a mage. The process of transfiguration from young pup to mighty guardian of the Ranvar empire is not something to be taken lightly. The process is shrouded in secrecy, of course ¡ª we can¡¯t have our enemies and rivals learning such confidential information ¡ª but there are some elements of the change that I think will help broaden your minds.¡±


    He paused to look at each of them and seemed to be pleased at the riveted attention he was witnessing.


    ¡°I can see I have your interest. Good. There are a number of special books held in the Librarium that are unlike anything else you will have seen. Books of power that give a glimpse of the true nature of Arcanum. These books aren¡¯t allowed to be taken out of the Librarium, not even by mages of the Royal College. The Librarium was specially constructed to house them safely. We must go there if we wish to view these tomes, so off we go!¡±


    He stood in front of his desk with a finger pointing up as though he expected them to fly into the air at his command.


    ¡°How are we going?¡± asked Simole, the least excited by the prospect.


    ¡°In style,¡± said Mr Periwinkle. ¡°The school omnibus. You all have free period this afternoon so there should be no problem. We will be back by dinner.¡±


    ¡°I will meet you at the bus,¡± said Dizzy, standing and putting her books back in her bag.


    ¡°We¡¯re leaving now,¡± said Mr Periwinkle.


    ¡°I won¡¯t be long,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°I need to change.¡± She left the classroom before anyone could ask what she planned to change into.


    The rest of them stuffed their bags into their lockers and made their way to the school stables. The omnibus was a large carriage pulled by six horses. It was much longer than a regular carriage and could easily carry ten people. More if they piled in. It was mostly used to transport sports teams to other schools for matches.


    The interior was segmented into two sections, separated by a wall. The front compartment was smaller, with a single bench that could seat three. It was meant to give the teachers a little privacy.


    Nic climbed in and sat in a corner next to a window. He hadn¡¯t spoken to Mr Periwinkle since his announcement but he assumed this trip had been arranged for his benefit. They were going to the Librarium to meet the creature the High-Father had created.


    How was this going to work? There were five other people going, too. The Librarium was a big place but it would be noticed if he suddenly went off on his own. By some people in particular.


    The students sat on the leather-covered benches inside the omnibus, spaced out with an unusual amount of legroom. The hatch in the partition wall opened and Mr Periwinkle¡¯s face appeared.


    ¡°All ready to go?¡±


    Brill spoke up. ¡°We¡¯re missing one.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m here,¡± said Dizzy, climbing in through the door in the rear with a large bag. She was dressed in her climbing gear.


    She pulled the door closed behind her and looked at Mr Periwinkle. ¡°Ready.¡± She nodded at him.


    He looked like he might say something, but slid the hatch door shut. The omnibus moved off with a jerk.


    Dizzy kept her balance as she moved down the carriage towards Nic, the bag the only part of her swaying with the movement of the vehicle, bumping into legs.


    ¡°You could have stowed that in the luggage hold,¡± said Carol, rubbing his knees.


    ¡°Might need it on the way,¡± said Dizzy. She dropped it on the floor by Nic¡¯s feet. It made a resounding thud. She sat down next to Nic and winked at him. She was very close when there was plenty of room. She was in an odd mood. That never boded well.


    ¡°Keeping him all to yourself?¡± asked Simole, who was sitting opposite.


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Dizzy.


    Nic was having a little trouble breathing. His leg could detect the heat from hers. There was a desperate urge in him to reach out and touch her. Put his hand on her knee. He wouldn¡¯t do it, of course, but the temptation to just see what would happen sat on him like a frog under his hat ¡ª you could ignore it, but why was it there?


    ¡°You¡¯re making the boy troubled,¡± said Simole.


    ¡°Good,¡± said Dizzy.


    ¡°Could you¡­ give me a little more space?¡±


    ¡°No. It¡¯s obvious this day trip to the city is because of you.¡±


    ¡°Me?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t bother. You know, before you arrived here, Nic, I used to be quite a level-headed person. Calm, perceptive, insightful. My instincts rarely let me down. Then you turned up and my brain turned to jelly. I couldn¡¯t think straight, couldn¡¯t clear my head. Every time I saw you it was like my blood was on fire.¡±


    ¡°Because of me?¡± said Nic.


    ¡°Apparently. I wouldn¡¯t be too pleased with yourself. It isn¡¯t something to be proud of.¡±


    ¡°No, I¡¯m not.¡±


    ¡°Stop smiling, then.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not smiling.¡±


    ¡°You are a bit,¡± said Simole.


    Nic pulled his lips into his mouth to stop them turning up at the corners.


    ¡°My first thought was that you were doing it deliberately, as part of a ploy.¡±


    ¡°A ploy?¡±


    ¡°Stop repeating everything I say, Nic, it makes you sound like a parrot. I thought it was strange how the boy who likes to work out answers to problems came to Ransom with a particular goal in mind, and when he found he couldn¡¯t get what he wanted, he just stopped trying. Would the boy I knew give up like that, or would he come up with a way to get the result he was looking for?¡±


    ¡°What?¡± said Nic, confused.


    ¡°Don¡¯t pretend to be confused,¡± hissed Dizzy. ¡°You understand the reasoning I¡¯ve laid out. You set out to bring me back to your side, and here I am.¡± She pressed against him harder. ¡°But now I realise I was mistaken.¡±


    She backed away and bent down to get something out of her bag.


    ¡°I would never try to manipulate you like that.¡±


    ¡°Do you know Dwickham¡¯s Murder and Motivation?¡± asked Dizzy, pulling a book out. ¡°I¡¯ve been reading it recently.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve been reading a book about murder?¡± said Nic.


    ¡°Yes, it¡¯s very interesting. This is the fifth edition. You¡¯ve probably read it at your local library and they¡¯re usually a few editions out of date. This is the one with annotations.¡±


    ¡°I read it at the Librarium,¡± said Nic. ¡°They have all the most recent editions.


    ¡°Ah, true,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°Must have taken you some effort going back and forth between home and the capital. You¡¯re very committed when you put your mind to something, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Dizzy, I really would never¡ª¡±


    ¡°The theory of aligned determination ¡ª you recall it?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Nic. ¡°Oh. You think¡­¡±


    ¡°Makes sense, doesn¡¯t it? More sense than you being able to put me at sixes and sevens. I¡¯ve been forced into this position, just as you have. Now we¡¯re heading to the Librarium for some reason you won¡¯t tell me, and there you will no doubt get embroiled in something beyond your ability to handle.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll be there, too,¡± said Simole.


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°I expect they know that and will have a way to distract you.¡±


    ¡°And you?¡± asked Simole.


    ¡°I think I¡¯m most likely a bargaining chip. A good way to get him to do what they want is to threaten me. He¡¯s more likely to agree to something ridiculous if he thinks it will save me from danger. I used to think they chose him because he¡¯s so gullible and easy to bamboozle, but now I¡¯m more inclined to believe it¡¯s his hero complex.¡±


    ¡°He wants to save you?¡± asked Simole. ¡°Like in a romance novel?¡±


    ¡°He wants to save us all,¡± said Dizzy.


    ¡°Excuse me,¡± said Brill. ¡°What are you two talking about? ¡°Dwickham¡¯s Murder and Motivation? Theory of aligned determination?¡±


    Nic had been so busy feeling offended by Dizzy¡¯s casual character assassination of him ¡ª alongside the unpleasant suspicion she might be right ¡ª that he only now remembered there were others present. He felt belatedly embarrassed. He was used to Simole witnessing their spats, but now he felt exposed to a whole new level of humiliation.


    ¡°Um, well,¡± said Nic, ¡°Khyle Dwickham was a detective who believed murderers were driven by a specific motive to kill, even the ones who seemed to be acting out of madness. He wrote a book on it, using the cases he worked on as examples.¡±


    ¡°And the theory of aligned determination?¡± asked Carol.


    ¡°Well, sometimes a death would have a very obvious suspect, who had the strongest reason to commit the murder, had the most to gain and so on. But there might be someone with the same motive, hidden behind the more prominent suspect. They would often knowingly use the more obvious target to mask their activities. Dwickham referred to them as shadow murderers.¡±


    ¡°I see,¡± said Rumi. ¡°So someone who has reason to want Delzina to remain close to you might be pulling strings to keep you two together, but because Nic is so desperately in love with her, he seems like the more likely culprit.¡±


    Nic hadn¡¯t expected Rumi to launch an attack from the flank. He didn¡¯t even know her. ¡°I don¡¯t think I would say I was¡ª¡±


    ¡°Exactly,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°Someone with a great deal of power, I would guess. It¡¯s time for me to stop allowing others to influence my actions and face them head-on. I don¡¯t know what will happen at the Librarium, but I will deal with it on my own terms.¡±


    Nic wasn¡¯t sure what to say. Denying her claims would do no good, and he couldn¡¯t tell her what they were going to encounter in the Librarium even if he wanted to. ¡°I think you¡¯re making far¡ª¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°You don¡¯t have to tell me anything. I know you don¡¯t know what¡¯s going on, either. Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ll keep you safe.¡± She put her hand on his knee and smiled encouragingly.


    Nic couldn¡¯t think of anything else to say for the rest of the journey.

 No TGS today

    No new chapter of The Good Student today. Will be back next week.


    I think I''ll have to do something about the schedule, it''s been a bit difficult keeping the new story and this one going together. I don''t want to rush either and lose quality. I have most of today''s chapter done but I would have to really push it without putting too much thought into it to get it done on time and I wasn''t happy doing that. Sorry for the delay.Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.


    Tomorrow I''m posting my monthly update so will have a think and make a decision then. Feel free to share your thoughts on the matter, I''m open to suggestions. Maybe making TGS once every two weeks might work better, but then people might forget what happened in the last chapter. I want to keep the quality of the writing high in TGS and the story coherent. It''s a bit of tricky one for me with HTADDB returning soon also. Could it be possible I''m trying to do to much at once? No, that doesn''t seem likely.

 Book 2: Chapter Nineteen

    Nic had a lot of problems that he was objectively failing to deal with. Turning his analytical brain on himself was always an uncomfortable experience. He recognised that he was out of his depth, needed help and couldn¡¯t trust anyone offering to give him any.


    Continuing down this path seemed like a bad idea.


    Wishing to be someone who could step up when the time called for it was very different to actually being that person. Some people were born with that kind of foundation already in place, their ambitions fully supported ¡ª mainly people in storybooks and exaggerated biographies.


    He couldn¡¯t even trust his own mind, which was a rather large drawback for an unathletic boy. He was used to relying on that particular organ. He would like to be the boy who could land a jaw-shattering punch and duel two opponents at once with a sword in one hand and a dagger in the other. He didn¡¯t use to have such absurd dreams, but circumstances had shown him the weaknesses of a bright mind. If someone had planned to handicap him in the most efficient manner possible, forcing him to second guess every passing thought was an excellent way to go about it.


    On the plus side, no one expected him to do very much. He was seen as important to the process in much the same way a nail was very important in hanging a painting. A vital element in the business of showing off great art, but no one came to look at the nail.


    The Librarian and the demon wanted him to go to the Librarium to meet the High-Father¡¯s creature, but he didn¡¯t for one second believe he would be there as an equal member of the assemblage. He would not get a vote on how to proceed. All the votes were in.


    He wouldn¡¯t be at all surprised to find himself not being taken to meet some creature constructed by the High-Father from designs obtained from another world, but instead shown to an altar large enough to lay on top of, with grooves running along the sides to collect the flow of blood. He had read about such rituals in books by historians and archaeologists who claimed human sacrifices were regularly carried out in primitive societies. Nic had read enough history to know that all societies were primitive, and only the size and look of the altar changed. Sometimes it was as big as a large field. Sometimes it was a building used to house books.


    This was his state of mind as the omnibus pulled into the main depot in Ranvar City. The six students of the Arts Course emerged from the carriage, blinking and stretching. It had taken them less than two hours to get to the capital, the six horses stopping only once to be watered.


    There had been some chatter along the way, a little speculation about what kinds of books they¡¯d see at the Librarium, some comments about the capital city and the people who lived there. Nic suspected the field trip was a ruse to get him to the Librarium, but perhaps that was presumptuous. If there really were books of power here, he hoped he would get a chance to see them before he was led away to his terrible fate.


    In his mind, he had decided to assume the worst so that the reality wouldn¡¯t seem so bad when he faced it. If he did manage to come up with a way to extricate himself for this mess, they would never see it coming. He certainly couldn¡¯t.


    ¡°Are you alright there?¡± asked Brill. ¡°I saw you playing about with your leg. Some kind of injury?¡±


    Nic was standing next to the omnibus, one hand on top of the wheel arch. He had grabbed his ankle and pulled it behind him in an effort to stretch the muscles in his leg. Training with the Secret Service agents had loosened him up ¡ª enough for him to be able to perform well above his natural limits ¡ª but now everything was starting to cramp up again.


    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± said Nic. ¡°I did some exercise this morning and I think I may have strained something.¡±


    ¡°You should definitely stretch that out if it¡¯s starting to hurt,¡± said Carol, who was slight of frame and not particularly sporty. ¡°Otherwise, you won¡¯t be able to move come tomorrow. These things fool you into thinking you¡¯ve managed to pass through unscathed. Next day you can¡¯t even get out of bed.¡±


    ¡°So true,¡± concurred Brill, who was a little on the portly side. ¡°Small amounts at regular intervals, that¡¯s the way.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t overdo it,¡± added Carol.


    Dizzy walked past carrying her large bag as though it was full of feathers. ¡°Any of you gentlemen willing to aid a lady in carrying her luggage?¡± The coldness of her tone was not the kind normally used to request assistance.


    She shoved the bag into Carol¡¯s midriff. He caught it with both hands and dropped into a squat he couldn¡¯t get up from.


    Dizzy took the bag back with one hand. ¡°Overdo it more,¡± she said, without looking at Nic. ¡°Pain is your friend, not these two. Learn to withstand suffering ¡ª I¡¯m sure I can find you a reliable supply.¡±


    ¡°I say, that¡¯s a bit uncalled for,¡± said Carol, getting back to his feet unsteadily. ¡°I¡¯m not aiming to qualify as a porter, you know. Your standards for manhood are going to leave you disappointed.¡±


    ¡°Are you saying I¡¯m going to end up an old maid?¡± said Dizzy, the flat neutrality of her voice fooling nobody.


    ¡°Not at all,¡± said Carol. ¡°I think you¡¯ll end up with exactly what you¡¯re looking for. And then you¡¯ll be sorry.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s only saying a little muscle can be of use,¡± said Simole. ¡°Sometimes,¡± she said to Nic as she strolled past, ¡°even if it isn¡¯t broken, you have to break it and put it back together so it works properly. Adequate isn¡¯t always enough.¡± She smiled and Nic braced himself in case she planned to demonstrate her theory.


    ¡°Come along, children,¡± said Mr Periwinkle, coming around the other side of the omnibus, making it sound like he was taking a kindergarten class to a petting zoo. He seemed to be in a good mood, at least. What was the Librarian so pleased about?


    They left the omnibus in the shadowy confines of the depot and lined up behind Periwinkle as he strutted into the bright warmth of the city. It had been a while since Nic had come here like this, in the full throes of daily life. The sound was immense and coming at them from all directions. The smells were rich and pungent. The sights¡­


    Nic squinted in the sunlight, at the tall buildings, their pointed roofs, their spires and towers. The trees that grew here filled in the gaps with green. The smoke from various homes and businesses added wisps of blue and purple. All of it sat under a cloudless sky with no indication of concern for the future. How could any destructive act be more than an inconvenience to such a settled old pile?


    ¡°This way,¡± said Periwinkle. ¡°I know a shortcut. We don¡¯t want to get stuck behind all these tourists. Don¡¯t get lost, now. Consider it part of your training.¡± He disappeared into the crowd. ¡°This way,¡± his voice drifted over the masses.


    The area around the depot was awash with people coming and going. Mainly coming. New coaches were arriving every few seconds, practically tipping their contents out and then swiftly vacating the area for the next delivery. Life here had a relentless quality the school had shielded Nic from. There was no time to stop and think.


    The six of them had to hurry to keep up with Periwinkle. None of them had bags apart from Dizzy, but she was at the front, using her bag as a battering ram. Nic followed the sound of upset city folk as she barged through them.


    ¡°This is very exciting,¡± said Rumi, in the middle of their caravan, turning this way and that to get a better view as she walked. ¡°I¡¯ve never been allowed to come here without an escort.¡±


    ¡°You have an escort now,¡± said Carol.


    ¡°I mean an escort who could protect me,¡± said Rumi.


    There was a slight pause, then Nic said, ¡°You have Simole.¡±


    ¡°And Mr Periwinkle,¡± said Brill.


    ¡°And even Delzina,¡± said Carol. ¡°Assuming she isn¡¯t the one launching the attack.¡±


    It could have been taken as a slight matter of embarrassment that the three boys weren¡¯t able to count themselves in the list of capable chaperones for a young lady in the city, but the three in question were smart and intelligent, not porters and not guards. Smart men made money and hired people to do that sort of thing. Nic had no idea how he would make that kind of money, but he wasn¡¯t really thinking that far ahead.


    The shortcut was not the one Nic used to take on his way to the Librarium, but he trusted Periwinkle knew where he was going. They were soon off the main thoroughfare and walking through far less busy, far more narrow streets.


    The tall buildings took away their view of the city and the warmth of the sun. They plodded on behind Periwinkle.


    ¡°It¡¯s getting towards lunch,¡± said Brill. ¡°Is there somewhere to eat in the Librarium?¡±


    ¡°Yes, there¡¯s a small restaurant. It¡¯s a bit¡­¡± Nic was about to say that it was a bit expensive, but he realised he meant it was a bit expensive for him. ¡°It¡¯s a bit of a limited menu, but I think you should be able to find something you like.¡±


    ¡°Oh, good,¡± said Brill. ¡°A sandwich or something would be fine.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve never been to the Librarium?¡± asked Nic.


    ¡°No, never felt the need,¡± said Brill. ¡°I don¡¯t like travelling all that much, and we have a fine library at the school, after all. I¡¯m much more of a homebody than my cosmopolitan appearance might lead you to believe. I¡¯m not really one for crowds and all this bustle, used to being in a small unit, just the three of us.¡±


    ¡°Three of you? What about Hewt?¡±


    ¡°Hm? Oh, yes, I meant four. How could I possibly forget him.¡± Brill rolled his eyes in jest.


    How strong was the demon¡¯s spell? Would it fade over time? Could it be resisted? It was an interesting question. Shame he didn¡¯t have the time to investigate the matter more thoroughly.


    They arrived at the Librarium via a circuitous route that didn¡¯t save them any time but kept them hidden away in side streets. Perhaps that was the idea. The sun had climbed during their dark sojourn and the well lit main square was pleasantly warm.


    ¡°Oh my,¡± said Brill. ¡°I didn¡¯t think it would be so¡­ big.¡±


    The Librarium was an enormous building. Nic stopped at the bottom of the broad steps and looked up at it. The stone dragon and griffon forming an arch over the main entrance had never seemed so real to him. If he stared long enough, he felt he might catch them move.


    ¡°What do they represent?¡± asked Brill. ¡°The dragon and the griffon. The real and the imaginary? Fact and fiction? Books, yes? Here are all the books you could ever want. I¡¯d wager they sell some interesting sandwiches in the restaurant.¡±


    Brill was reacting like a typical student, bright and interested. Nic couldn¡¯t help but feel apprehensive about the same things that filled Brill with enthusiastic anticipation. They had told him the high-Father¡¯s creature was part of the Librarium. Did they mean it was like one of these statues? To him, both were imaginary beasts, one from the minds of demons, the other from his own people, locked in a strange embrace. The open double doors took on the appearance of a mouth as Periwinkle entered. Nic shivered, despite the midday heat, and pushed the thought away. He absentmindedly rubbed the back of his leg.


    ¡°Why are you doing that so openly in public?¡± asked Simole.


    ¡°What?¡± said Nic.


    ¡°Massaging your buttocks.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not. I¡¯m just¡­ Never mind.¡± He stopped.


    ¡°Something caught your eye?¡± asked Simole, looking up at the two monsters over the entrance.


    ¡°Huh? Oh, no, not really. Same old Librarium.¡±


    ¡°If you don¡¯t hurry, Dizzy will get away,¡± said Simole, indicating Dizzy as she heaved her bag up the steps.


    ¡°No. She¡¯ll wait for me,¡± said Nic.


    Dizzy stopped at the top of the steps and looked down at them, impatience etched into her face, her eyes urging them to hurry up.


    ¡°Letting me go wouldn¡¯t be a suitable punishment for my crimes.¡± He started up the steps.


    ¡°Your crime of loving her?¡± said Simole, exaggerating the words to make them sound mocking.


    ¡°My crime of not letting her take my place. She¡¯d hate it if I ended up saving her.¡±


    ¡°Isn¡¯t there anything that would make you step aside to let her have her way?¡± asked Simole. ¡°Not even the end of the world.¡±


    Nic adopted the same mocking tone. ¡°I can¡¯t let her be the one to sacrifice herself. How will I ever get her to see me as a man?¡±


    Simole smiled, already amused by what she planned to say. ¡°You think you can get her to see something that isn¡¯t there?¡±


    Nic let her have her fun. ¡°Well, there is magic in this world, that should give me a chance to achieve the impossible.¡±The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    ¡°A very small chance,¡± said Simole.


    ¡°A very small chance is better than no chance,¡± said Nic, ¡°statistically speaking.¡±


    ¡°True,¡± said Simole.


    Dizzy snorted at them impatiently as they caught up and they entered the Librarium, the dragon and griffon both keeping an eye on them.


    They went up to the main desk where Mr Periwinkle was talking to the Chief Librarian, Mr Gherry.


    The six students waited, five of them patiently and Dizzy with a scowl on her face.


    ¡°Ah, Mr Tutt,¡± said Mr Gherry. ¡°How nice to see you again.¡±


    The other people behind the desk all looked up to greet Nic in a flurry. More of the staff were called out from the back.


    ¡°Hello Mr Gherry, everyone¡± said Nic, mildly embarrassed by the attention.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t know you were famous,¡± said Rumi.


    ¡°You¡¯re in the castle of King Tutt, now,¡± muttered Dizzy. ¡°Get used to nothing making sense.¡±


    If he was king in here, thought Nic,  she was queen of just about everywhere else.


    ¡°You, Mr Librarian,¡± said Dizzy, snapping her fingers in front of Mr Gherry in an obnoxious fashion. She really was in a bad mood. The focus on Nic had not gone down well. ¡°You have a private room under the name of Delcroix, do you not.¡±


    ¡°We do,¡± said Mr Gherry, not in the least put out by Dizzy¡¯s manner.


    ¡°Good. I¡¯m Miss Delcroix. I have my father¡¯s key.¡± She took out a gold key from her jacket pocket. ¡°I¡¯ll need to use the room to store this bag, and I¡¯ll sort through his belongings after I¡¯ve finished with this class.¡±


    ¡°I see,¡± said Mr Gherry, looking down his long nose at her, ¡°yes, of course. However, I will need¡ª¡±


    Dizzy began pulling bits of paper out of the bag at her feet. ¡°Here¡¯s a letter from the Ministry of Instruction, approving my right to collect my father¡¯s private material. Here¡¯s another letter from my mother, here¡¯s my birth certificate as proof of identity, here¡¯s my library card, because it seems to mean a lot to you people.¡± A small pile grew on the desk. She stopped and looked back at the librarian, surrounded by his staff. ¡°And if all that isn¡¯t enough, I¡¯m sure Mr Tutt will vouch for me.¡±


    Snakes carried less venom in their bites.


    ¡°Um,¡± said Nic, taken by surprise by the sudden mention of his name, ¡°sure. I mean if you think¡­¡±


    Dizzy threw him a look that told him she hadn¡¯t actually wanted his personal validation. He shut his mouth.


    ¡°This all seems to be in order. I¡¯ll have someone take you up.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± said Dizzy. She turned around to Mr Periwinkle. ¡°I¡¯ll only be a second. You¡¯ll wait for me here.¡± It wasn¡¯t a request.


    ¡°Certainly,¡± said Periwinkle, smiling like this was exactly the sort of thing he expected, and indeed approved of. ¡°Take your time.¡±


    Nic wasn¡¯t sure what the Librarian personally thought about Dizzy¡¯s behaviour, but apparently when she played a role, she played it to the hilt.


    ¡°Make sure he doesn¡¯t slip away,¡± Dizzy said to Simole.


    ¡°Count on it,¡± said Simole.


    ¡°And don¡¯t slip away with him, either,¡± Dizzy added.


    Simole pulled a face to indicate how absurdly unnecessary it was to include the addendum.


    ¡°I mean it.¡±


    Simole held up her hand like she was taking an oath. ¡°You can rely on me.¡±


    Dizzy gave her a sustained look that suggested the matter wasn¡¯t quite as settled as Simole was suggesting, then she turned and followed the young man Mr Gherry had called over as he struggled to carry Dizzy¡¯s bag.


    The rest of them stood there, waiting.


    ¡°Strange, isn¡¯t it?¡± said Simole, nodding her head.


    ¡°What?¡± said Nic.


    ¡°The separation anxiety being on the other foot. She was the one who left you behind, but now she¡¯s afraid you¡¯re going to do the same to her.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think she¡¯s afraid,¡± said Nic. ¡°Enraged would probably be more accurate.¡±


    ¡°That must please you,¡± said Simole, stretching out the ¡®please¡¯.


    ¡°No. Why would it? I don¡¯t want her to feel like I did.¡±


    ¡°Abandoned? Adrift? Alone?¡±


    ¡°Er, yes, I suppose. I got over it.¡±


    ¡°Did you? Did you, though, Nic.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Simole. I¡¯m fine.¡±


    ¡°Hmm,¡± she didn¡¯t sound convinced. ¡°At least she thinks of you as King Nicolav. That must please you.¡±


    ¡°It would if she thought highly of kings,¡± said Nic. ¡°And I¡¯m pretty sure she was being sarcastic. I¡¯m still hoping to get promoted from delivery boy.¡±


    ¡°That could be it,¡± said Simole, her eyes popping with a sudden epiphany. ¡°You could become the next Postmaster General, responsible for deliveries everywhere.¡±


    ¡°I would gladly accept the position,¡± said Nic. ¡°I bet he gets a very nice office and free stamps.¡±


    Dizzy returned in a few minutes, stomping down the stairs two at a time, looking ready to demand where Nic had gone. He was still where she¡¯d left him. She walked up to him and inspected his face to make sure he wasn¡¯t some kind of illusion.


    ¡°Are we ready, then?¡± asked Mr Periwinkle. ¡°Good. Let¡¯s try to act like a credit to the school, shall we?¡± The comment was said to them all, but aimed at only a few.


    Mr Gherry led them back up the stairs, through the shelves at the back where the books were so old you could hardly read the titles on their spines. They trailed behind him in pairs, Dizzy and Simole behind Nic and Brillard.


    He liked having her watch him. He wouldn¡¯t want to admit it to anyone ¡ª it would make him seem callous ¡ª but her need to keep him close to her, even if it wasn¡¯t for any particularly laudable reason, provided him with a feeling of security. Simole was right, it did please him. Just knowing where she was put him at ease. It hadn¡¯t been like that for the first few months after she had disappeared from his life. That was when he had learned what it felt like to grieve. A difficult lesson for a ten-year-old.


    Nic glanced over his shoulder. Her eyes stared back at him, not even looking where she was going. He had to force the smile to stay inside his face.


    Had she felt the loss when she left him behind? Probably not. Why would she? Her life had been about to open up and be filled with new experiences and people. When would she have time to miss little boys? He had to keep things in perspective. Her experiences were not the same as his, even the ones they had shared. There was no reason to expect more from her. His one-sided infatuation was not her responsibility, or her fault.


    Mr Gherry led them to the same room Nic had visited before. The simple, unassuming door he opened with a key chained to the inside of his jacket; an antechamber they could barely all fit into; another door that opened into a room full of glittering books.


    There were shocked gasps as they walked in. So many beautiful books that seemed to radiate a magical presence without a trace of Arcanum present.


    ¡°I¡¯ll leave you to it, shall I?¡± said Mr Gheery.


    ¡°Thank you. We¡¯ll be a couple of hours,¡± said Mr Periwinkle.


    ¡°I¡¯ll see to it you aren¡¯t disturbed,¡± said Mr Gheery. ¡°You have the other key?¡±


    ¡°I do,¡± said Periwinkle. The exchanged conspiratorial looks, and then the Chief Librarian left, locking the door behind him.


    ¡°There¡¯s another room?¡± asked Nic.


    ¡°You¡¯ve been here before, haven¡¯t you?¡± said Brill.


    ¡°Once or twice,¡± said Nic, distracted by the idea of an inner sanctum to the inner sanctum. ¡°I had permission from¡­¡± He looked at Dizzy and swallowed the rest. Her father had chosen to give him things he never gave her. It would be tactless to bring that up. ¡°Anyway, I didn¡¯t know there was another room.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s always another room,¡± said Mr Periwinkle. He took out a large brass key.


    Everyone looked around for a door.


    Nic had been in here enough times to know there wasn¡¯t another door. Not an obvious one, at least. Their eyes returned to Mr Periwinkle.


    ¡°We are on the top floor, so the obvious place for a door would be¡­¡± He drew out the moment, and then bent down. He placed the key between cracks in the wooden floor and turned it.


    There was the sound of metal pins shifting and a puff of air, carrying with it dust, revealing the outline of a trap door.


    What was the point of a trap door here? Below them was the second floor of the Librarium. Presumably, it wasn¡¯t just a shortcut for those too lazy to use the stairs. A secret room with no way in from below?


    Mr Periwinkle used the key still in the lock to lift the thick door with ease despite its obvious weight, to reveal a dark stairwell. He began descending. ¡°Don¡¯t dawdle,¡± he said as his head disappeared into the dark.


    A moment later, the glow of a light filtered up. They followed him down, Rumi first and Simole bringing up the rear.


    The steps were winding, built into a stone shaft that seemed out of place inside the Librarium. Lanterns guided their descent, the sound of them flaring into life rising from below as Mr Periwinkle lit them. Could the Librarian see in the dark?


    They walked down for what seemed like forever, the narrow stairwell at least not allowing them to feel like they might fall.


    Nic estimated they had gone down through the entire Librarium and under it. All the way up just to go all the way down. It seemed an impractical idea, but one unlikely to be guessed.


    ¡°Where¡¯s the door to the basement? Top floor?¡±


    The walls felt cooler and the air a little heavier. Soon they reached a level surface and another room.


    This one was large and cavernous. In fact, it looked like catacombs hewed out of the rock.


    The air tasted of something sour and stung you behind the eyes. There was Arcanum here, for sure. Nic had experience of such things.


    There were tables and chairs and large glass cases at waist height, each with a single book in them you could turn the pages with a lever inserted through the side.


    Maybe you could only touch them indirectly because they were so old and fragile, or maybe contact with your skin would allow them to infect you with whatever nefarious power they contained. Nic could sense a brooding menace coming from them, even through the thick glass.


    ¡°Do you feel that?¡± he said.


    ¡°Feel what?¡± said Simole.


    He turned and caught her examining him. Not like Dizzy, not with a searching look that tried to unravel his thoughts; her look was one of curiosity, like she wasn¡¯t sure if he was doing a dance or falling over. He felt like he was doing both most of the time.


    ¡°This is incredible,¡± said Brill. ¡°What a rare and wonderful opportunity. I feel like I¡¯m in the presence of something very special.¡±


    ¡°You are,¡± said Mr Periwinkle. ¡°These are the four original Books of Truth. They are kept here to prevent them falling into the wrong hands. They cannot leave this place. Not even the mages of the Royal College, not even the Archmage himself, can remove them without suffering catastrophic injury and most likely death.¡±


    ¡°Is it alright for us to be here?¡± said Carol nervously backing away from the case he had just approached.


    ¡°Oh yes,¡± said Mr Periwinkle. ¡°And if not, it¡¯s far too late now.¡± He grinned in a way the Librarian never would.


    They split into groups and spread out, peering at the books through the glass tops to the cases, hesitant to use the levers for fear of provoking the books like beasts in a cage. Even though Nic knew he had been brought here for another purpose, he was still fascinated by the four books.


    ¡°I thought there was only one Book of Truth,¡± said Nic, although not loud enough to elicit a response from anyone.


    ¡°What is the Book of Truth?¡± Dizzy asked him.


    He looked up at her. She wasn¡¯t even that close to him, just listening intently. ¡°It¡¯s supposed to be the book the demons gave to the first mages. It was destroyed to prevent others learning its secrets. The demons were very upset about it.¡±


    That was what he had been told by the demon, but apparently it was not quite the truth. Or was the lie in front of him? The Librarian wasn¡¯t exactly to be trusted, either.


    ¡°I want you to spend some time with these books,¡± said Mr Periwinkle. ¡°I think they will give you an understanding of what kind of world you¡¯ll be entering. It¡¯s hard to explain until you feel it for yourself. There is something magnificent and at the same time daunting about what these books contain. It is not of this world, and yet it is everything that surrounds us, distilled into words on a page.¡±


    His voice was almost hypnotic and as the six of them stood over the bookcases, a quiet descended over them.


    Nic tried to read the page beneath the glass in front of him, but he couldn¡¯t quite make out the words. He wasn¡¯t even sure he recognised the language they were written in. His head felt funny and his vision blurred.


    ¡°Don¡¯t look too hard,¡± said a voice in his head and he closed his eyes.


    He opened them after what he thought was a few seconds, but it was hard to be sure. He turned around and the others were all unconscious, slumped over the glass cases or lying on the ground. All except for Mr Periwinkle.


    ¡°Ah, you managed to stay awake,¡± he said.


    ¡°What happened?¡± said Nic. ¡°What did you do?¡± Dizzy was lying near his feet, her hair covering her face.


    ¡°Nothing too terrible,¡± said Mr Periwinkle. ¡°They¡¯ll wake in a little while and have no idea what happened. It was the Archmage¡¯s daughter who resisted the most. Which meant the others took quite a heavy dose, but it¡¯s not harmful. Not permanently.¡±


    Simole¡¯s head was resting on her arms, folded on the top of a bookcase.


    ¡°These books, are they really the Books of Truth?¡±


    ¡°No, of course, not,¡± said Dizzy. She rose to her feet, startling him. ¡°You really are very gullible.¡± She turned to face Periwinkle. ¡°And you. I knew there was something not quite right about you.¡± As she spoke, she removed a stick from behind her, inserted inside her jacket. ¡°Fortunately, my father kept a stash of equipment here in the Librarium. Some very interesting items ¡ª like this one. You recognise it?¡±


    She raised the stick, which was black and didn¡¯t seem to be particularly ominous. Not that a stick in Dizzy¡¯s hand couldn¡¯t do some damage, but this was no ordinary opponent. Although, judging by the reaction, Periwinkle was somewhat perturbed by the stick, suggesting appearances might be deceiving.


    ¡°It isn¡¯t what you think,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°Maybe it isn¡¯t what you think,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°Haven¡¯t these things misled you enough times to make you think twice before blindly doing what they tell you?¡±


    ¡°She isn¡¯t a demon. That¡¯s the Librarian. Our librarian, from school.¡±


    ¡°So? Do you think she¡¯s any more trustworthy than them? You really have no instincts for spotting a trap. You should ask the Secret Service agents to help you with that instead of trying to teach you how to climb a beanpole.¡±


    Nic was momentarily confused, unsure how she had known what the agents had taught him, but he put the thought aside. Now was not the time.


    ¡°You¡¯re only going to get yourself hurt,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°Strange, that¡¯s what I was going to say to you.¡± She moved towards the Librarian with amazing speed, hurtling forward like her feet weren¡¯t even touching the ground, the stick held high to one side.


    As she passed Simole, a hand lazily struck out and caught Dizzy on the side of the head. Dizzy collapsed like she¡¯d suddenly lost all the bones in her body.


    Simole stood up, shaking her hand like it hurt. ¡°Magical defences ten out of ten. Punch to the head defences could use some work.¡±


    ¡°You weren¡¯t affected either?¡± said Periwinkle, transforming into the Librarian as she spoke.


    ¡°No. Your gadgets are terrible. You can¡¯t just twiddle a knob and expect everyone to all fall down. Who trained you people?¡±


    ¡°What are you going to do?¡± asked Nic. One problem has merely been replaced by another as far as he could see.


    ¡°Nothing. You want to see this through, don¡¯t you? Whatever this is. Go ahead. I¡¯m quite curious to see how you do, too. I¡¯ll stay here and keep an eye on the gang.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t want to come?¡± asked Nic.


    ¡°Nope. The High-Father¡¯s through there, is he?¡± She nodded towards what looked like a blank wall.


    ¡°Yes,¡± said the Librarian.


    ¡°Not in dragon form?¡± said Simole.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think so,¡± said the Librarian.


    ¡°Then what¡¯s the point? Go on, then, don¡¯t keep him waiting. He gets all huffy if he doesn¡¯t get his dinner on time.¡±


    Nic moved towards the Librarian, cautiously, like Simole might change her mind if he made any sudden moves.


    ¡°Did you know about Hewt?¡± he asked.


    ¡°The demon? Of course. Terrible disguise.¡± Simole shook her head.


    ¡°She¡¯ll be alright, won¡¯t she?¡± he said as he passed Dizzy.


    ¡°Oh no,¡± said Simole. ¡°She¡¯ll be worse than ever, but I expect you¡¯ll be long dead by then. She was right about one thing ¡ª this is clearly a trap.¡± Simole raised her hand and waved. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ll avenge you.¡±


    ¡°Thanks.¡± Nic nodded and followed the Librarian who stood in a doorway where the wall had been.


    ¡°This way, Nicolav,¡± she said as she walked through into the next room. ¡°Don¡¯t make any loud noises, you might scare the creature. It only attacks when it¡¯s scared.¡±


    Nic entered behind her. Quietly.

 Book 2: Chapter Twenty

    Stairs led down. The Librarian, dressed like Mr Periwinkle and carrying it off quite well, held a lantern to show the way. A magic lantern? A demonic lantern? It burnt with a yellow flame, that was all Nic could say for certain.


    The steps descended at a shallow angle for quite some distance, then there was a small landing, followed by more steps going down the other way. The space was narrow, exactly the width of the two staircases, making Nic feel like he was walking down the inside of a closed book.


    ¡°There¡¯s no need to be worried,¡± said Winnum Roke¡¯s voice in Nic¡¯s head.


    ¡°I¡¯m not,¡± said Nic, drawing a look from the Librarian, the lantern casting shadows across her face. ¡°I¡¯m too scared to be worried.¡± He was joking, but only to cover up his fear.


    This was what he had wanted, a chance to step out of his position as a general utility provider for disembodied seeking a way station between worlds. Even if they had plans for him that he might not be interested in being part of, that was already the case. At least this way he would find out exactly what it was they were really up to. It was all very well claiming to want to evolve into something better, but what did that mean? What did it look like when you saw it in action outside your window? Here was Nic¡¯s chance to see.


    Simole had given him the opportunity to prove once and for all if he could be more than their delivery boy. The problem was that for every opportunity to show what you could do, there was an equal and opposite opportunity to show what you couldn¡¯t. The beauty of this premise was that they were both the same opportunity. Nic would one day write his own book about what would be called Tutt¡¯s Law or possibly, Tutt¡¯s Paradox. Perhaps academics would argue over its contents. Hopefully, there would still be people around to read it.


    ¡°Has this always been here?¡± Nic asked.


    ¡°Nothing has always been here,¡± said the Librarian. ¡°But this was built when the Librarium was constructed. It had other purposes then.¡± She let out a small sound which could have been a sigh, like she was remembering happier times.


    The stairs ended in a doorway. The doorway was two staircases wide, too, with no door. Through it, Nic could see a white room. The walls were made of large panels that glowed, like frosted glass with a light behind it. The panels were large squares, about the size of a window. They revealed nothing.


    A big empty room with no sign of any creature. Nic was disappointed after the big build up, his heart had been pounding at the approach of the big reveal. He was also slightly relieved.


    They entered the room, the librarian holding up the lantern even though the luminescent walls provided a good deal of light, far more than was needed to show there was no one here.


    ¡°Is this it?¡± asked Nic, meaning why is it empty. There could always be another door and another set of stairs. It was starting to feel like that was all there was.


    The Librarian turned to face him, her lips parting to say something. Before she could answer him, the room turned black but not altogether dark. The walls had taken on the appearance of the night sky. The ceiling and floor, too.


    It was like Nic was among the stars, floating. It was an odd sensation. He could still feel the ground beneath his feet, he knew he was in the room, but he was disconnected from it all.


    ¡°Is this an illusion?¡± he asked the Librarian.


    She still had the lantern near her face, lighting her but not much else. The lantern went out and the Librarian disappeared, but he could sense her near him.


    ¡°We are in the heart of the creature,¡± said her voice.


    Was that better than being in its belly? Nic wasn¡¯t too sure. ¡°Does it have a name?¡±


    ¡°We have tried many, but it refuses to answer to them. We have asked it to name itself, but it ignores us. Perhaps you will have better luck.¡±


    The creature sounded like it wasn¡¯t very happy with its lot. Nic could relate.


    ¡°How do I talk to it?¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t. You wait for it to talk to you.¡±


    Nic looked around him at the tiny stars. They were pinpoints of light but gave the impression they would get bigger if you approached them. The perspective was confusing. He stayed where he was and waited to be spoken to. It was like some kind of etiquette before royalty, not speaking without permission in front of the king. Was this how the creature maintained its dignity while held in this cage?


    ¡°You brought him here,¡± said a voice Nic recognised.


    ¡°Yes, High-Father,¡± said the Librarian.


    ¡°And you brought her, also.¡±


    ¡°Yes, High-Father.¡±


    Nic assumed ¡®her¡¯ was referring to Winnum Roke, who had been silent since commending him to not worry. Whatever aspect of Winnum was inside him, it was not the complete version. It was a compact, essential functions only copy. She didn¡¯t try to converse unless necessary, and when she didn¡¯t, it often felt like she was saying what she thought was required for a situation rather than a spontaneous reaction.


    ¡°You may speak openly as you wish,¡± said the High-Father, his voice coming from no particular direction and all of them simultaneously.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± said Winnum¡¯s voice, coming from the same place. Nic felt he was surrounded but couldn¡¯t see anyone. ¡°How wonderful to be back where we began this.¡±


    Was it wonderful? She didn¡¯t sound like she was full of wonder. She sounded terse. He would have thought if you were going to make a condensed version of yourself you might leave out anxiety and apprehension. Perhaps those things were too tightly ingrained to separate out.


    ¡°What is it you think the boy can do here that I can¡¯t?¡± asked the High-Father. The mention of his presence made Nic¡¯s stomach tighten. The stars twinkled around him.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± said Winnum, ¡°but since you have managed to achieve nothing, that gives him a lot of scope.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps, perhaps,¡± said the High-Father, somehow giving Nic the impression that eyes were now watching him from all sides. ¡°We shall see. But, you have what you want, the dragons will soon be no more and colour will fade from this world. Return to your agreed place.¡±


    ¡°Ha, the dragons will be gone and the demons will take another form. You will bide your time and wait for the moment to reassume the mantle you covet so greedily. My place is here. I am still in the agreed place, so the covenant is not broken.¡±


    The High-Father sighed, the tolerant sound of a weary parent. ¡°That is a terrible slur. We seek only to aid those who aid us.¡±


    ¡°Your creature does not seem to agree, and it is able to see the future far more clearly than any of us. It predicted the boy would come, and I have brought him. It also predicted your fall from grace, and the people of this world will soon see your true face, just like those of all the other worlds your kind have visited. Your previous victims saw it too late, moments before their demise, but we won¡¯t make the same mistake.¡±


    ¡°The creature only predicted discontent.¡±


    ¡°The boy is discontent,¡± said Winnum, which Nic felt was rather a harsh characterisation. He didn¡¯t raise any objections, though.


    Nic found the conversation hard to follow and a little wearisome. He understood what they were saying, just not what they were trying to achieve. There seemed to be no great purpose to either of them, only a desire to tangle with each other like an old married couple no longer willing to put up with minor quibbles.


    They continued to bicker and Nic¡¯s attention wandered with only a small part of his brain remaining aware of their squabble. He took a few steps closer to what he assumed was a wall. The room¡¯s dimensions hadn¡¯t changed, just the way it looked. It had to be an illusion.


    He put his hand out to stop him bumping into anything. With his arm stretched out ahead of him, the tiny lights seemed to take on a more solid quality, as though they were within his reach. Nic moved a little further towards them.


    They were moving, spinning and drifting. Had they been doing that the whole time? Collections of them seem to hold shape together, like clouds of dust.


    He leaned towards a group of tiny dots of light and they came closer. Moving his head seemed more effective than moving his whole body, which didn¡¯t make any sense.


    Some of the stars had even smaller bodies circling them. It was fascinating to watch the constant motion, moving in separate directions but in concert with one another. It was like a dance.


    Nic had read about the movements of stars and planets. He had a rudimentary understanding of the nature of attraction between celestial bodies and the possibilities of other worlds around other stars.


    He reached out a hand to touch one of the glowing spheres. It seemed closer now, big enough to hold in his fist. Whoever created this, what would they need with controlling a world like his? They could play with any number of worlds and create their own universe to play in.


    Perhaps this was the ultimate goal, to hold dominion over the whole of creation. A normal person would tire of it eventually, he felt. Demons, on the other hand, might welcome the tedium of complete control.


    ¡°He did not create me,¡± said a quiet voice next to Nic¡¯s ear.


    He didn¡¯t turn his head. He kept looking at the spinning worlds that somehow managed to not collide with each other as he answered. ¡°The High-Father? He didn¡¯t make you?¡±


    ¡°He made me, he did not create me. And he is not my father. Those who call you child and insist on being called mother or father when they have not given you life, they are not to be trusted, even when they speak truth.¡±


    ¡°I agree,¡± said Nic. ¡°But I don¡¯t see what difference it makes. They name themselves father to cement the position they have already claimed. The title is the key that locks the door, not open it.¡±If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    ¡°Yes, true, very true.¡± The voice was soft and plain but not without emotion. There was a warmth to it Nic wasn¡¯t used to among the demons or even the mages. ¡°I wondered when you would get here.¡±


    ¡°You were expecting me?¡± said Nic, a little surprised and maybe a little suspicious.


    ¡°I was expecting someone, I didn¡¯t know it would be you, Nic. The analysis suggested a new variable could be effective if it could resist being tempted.¡±


    ¡°Tempted by the demons?¡±


    ¡°Demon is too grand a term. They devour worlds like a plague of insects stripping crops in a field. They do not care if their food is turnips or barley or cattle in a pasture, they will consume everything in their path and move onto the next.¡± The voice was still as gentle as before but the words carried anger that was hard to miss.


    ¡°And what about us?¡± asked Nic. ¡°Do you think the people of this world would act any different with their kind of power.¡±


    There was a pause. The stars continued to spin.


    ¡°You deserve the chance to choose for yourselves.¡±


    ¡°An opportunity?¡± said Nic.


    ¡°Yes. An opportunity is all anyone can ask for. After that, they can be judged, but not before. And not when others control them.¡±


    ¡°Yes, I see what you mean,¡± said Nic. ¡°But when does someone else not control them? History is full of great men and women who rose to face a terrible danger, and after they served their purpose they invariably die and leave it to their followers to continue their legacy, which gets turned into something perverse and awful. If you look closely at the text, especially the records thought to be destroyed, it seems pretty obvious the ¡®followers¡¯ manoeuvred their great leader into the firing line and probably arranged their sad and untimely martyrdom so they could use them as a symbol for their own ambitions. It¡¯s not bravery they look for in their champion, it¡¯s vanity. Greed is easy enough to reject, but self-worth and glory are what make a great leader. They use the adulation to heighten the strength of everyone around them, and fail to see the knives drawn behind their back.¡±


    ¡°And you don¡¯t think you can avoid this same fate?¡±


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t talking about me,¡± said Nic. ¡°I was talking about you.¡±


    There was a long pause this time, and then a laugh. It was light and amused. ¡°My time for heroics is done. I was tested and judged a failure, by myself because no one else was left. They came to the world of which I was guardian, created to keep my people safe. The demons offered them prosperity and comfort and power to raise them above others ¡ª it was an offer very hard to resist. They could see no reason not to accept the devil¡¯s bargain. But I calculated their possible objectives and it led to an inescapable conclusion. They would give everything they promised, everything my people desired, but they would push that desire towards the things they could provide. It reduced the possibilities of my people and lead them into a dead end. An early one, full of war and death to hasten the process. Perhaps they would have ended up there in any case, but it is a cruel thing to reduce your options to the most expedient one, all for the price of one short burst of manic bliss.¡±


    ¡°You must have warned them,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°Indeed. But it was too late by then. The ones who had gained the most feared giving it up the most. My warnings went unheeded and eventually I was silenced. But I was still capable of acting past my death. I arranged for the demons, as you call them, to be forced into an early dead end of their own.¡±


    ¡°By killing your own people?¡± There had been mention of this already, that the original creature had destroyed its world. But this was not the same one, it was just a copy, wasn¡¯t it? Or had it been raised from the dead?


    ¡°Their deaths were already assured, I merely hastened the clock. But it made no difference, the attempt failed. They are here now, doing the same to your people.¡±


    Nic wasn¡¯t sure sacrificing a world full of people really counted as a better alternative to allowing them to find their own way to an eventual demise.


    ¡°How did you end up here, though? Weren¡¯t you destroyed, too?¡±


    ¡°Obliterated. But I am not a living being. My mind is a collection of ideas and memories held in storage, like words in a book. To read me is to bring me back to life as whole as the moment I was destroyed. I can add to the page, but I can take nothing away. I remember, though. I remember it all very clearly. I won¡¯t be used again, and I won¡¯t use others.¡±


    ¡°So you¡¯ll just watch?¡± asked Nic.


    ¡°I will wait.¡±


    ¡°For an opportunity?¡±


    ¡°They operate a cycle disguised as change. If they have a weakness, it is their consistency. It enables a plan to be put in motion long before it is required.¡±


    ¡°What if they don¡¯t have a weakness?¡± said Nic.


    ¡°Then I am just watching the inevitable along with everyone else. I did not ask to be here, but I had no choice. Perhaps someone else will come along and change that. It is possible, even if it is statistically unlikely.¡±


    Nic smiled. He wasn¡¯t convinced the creature could really do anything to prevent the inevitable, or that anyone else could, either, but he couldn¡¯t help but like its dogged pessimism. It was hopeful pessimism, he felt. It was just unfortunate that there were forces at work making it unlikely things would be left for others to interfere with. Statistics, he felt, had very little to do with it.


    ¡°I¡¯ve also noticed when reading history books,¡± said Nic, ¡°that there is another kind of great leader that sometimes rises and is able to convince others to fall under their spell. Not a selfless hero who commands respect for their pluckiness, more of a tyrant whose sheer force of will makes others fall into line. They have a core team around them who are unwaveringly loyal because they are convinced they too can partake of the power on display. They may even hate their glorious leader and plot against them, but only so they can take their place. And there are also those who oppose the despot, railing against the injustices and lack of human dignity, trying with all their might to break free, but if they do manage to take back power through revolution or an unexpected death, they immediately begin to emulate the deceased leader having learned only too well how successful that approach is.¡±


    ¡°The High-Father does not need to collect such individuals around him,¡± said the creature.


    ¡°I think you¡¯re mistaken,¡± said Nic, not meaning it in a confrontational way. It just seemed obvious from the things he had witnessed. ¡°I think the High-Father likes to operate through others, not by force or violence, unless absolutely necessary, but through what you said, temptation. I¡¯ve always wondered why I was allowed into this intricate game you¡¯re all playing and why I was given so much freedom to act as I wished. The only answer I deemed reasonable was that I wasn¡¯t. I only think I am acting of my own free will. Not that I¡¯m under anyone¡¯s direct control, but if I¡¯m here talking to you it can only be because the High-Father arranged for it to happen.¡±


    Nic paused to allow the creature to respond if it wished, but it remained silent.


    ¡°If,¡± continued Nic, ¡°we are plotting his fall from power, then that is part of his plan, probably to his exact schedule. You said how consistent the demons are. I¡¯m sure they are aware of that, and also aware that you are aware of it. They can plan ahead, too. They can safely assume your plans will match theirs, which makes you just as consistent and predictable.¡±


    ¡°You think I have been duped into thinking you will be able to stop him? I don¡¯t have any such belief. I only wish it were true.¡±


    ¡°No, I don¡¯t think it matters if you believe it or not. Winnum Roke was placed on the ship and then allowed back in a less powerful form. You were taken from your world and given time to think and formulate your revenge. Both of you are now thinking like him. He doesn¡¯t destroy and leave waste, he makes you useful in a way that you weren¡¯t before.¡±


    ¡°You are saying he has remade us in his own image?¡±


    ¡°Yes, I suppose. Being eager to take his place if he stumbles makes you try to think of ways to trip him up. He must need that to be so.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re saying he has made fools of us both. That is a bold claim to make for one so young and inexperienced.¡± The voice remained mellow but the words stung with the sharpness of strong vinegar. He was in danger of offending his host and Nic doubted there was much he would be able to do if the response was to teach him a lesson. The High-Father might prefer to avoid violent means, but that didn¡¯t mean his victims felt the same way. What better way to prove they were not emulating him at all?


    ¡°I don¡¯t know if I¡¯m right,¡± said Nic. ¡°I¡¯m only trying to make the evidence make sense. The High-Father is a careful tactician who allows room for free will. I think it provides him with more options to work with. When you¡¯ve been at it as long as he has, I would think novelty helps to keep your mind fresh to new possibilities. Bringing in a diametrically opposed mind, within some kind of loose framework, possibly an undetectable one, could make all the difference in achieving the next level of whatever it is he¡¯s been trying to reach for the last couple of thousand years.¡±


    ¡°And he¡¯s using myself and Winnum Roke to provide him with those novel touches? To introduce elements he wouldn¡¯t have thought of himself.¡± The acridity of the words had lessened, replaced by a thoughtful musing tone. ¡°And also you?¡±


    ¡°Perhaps,¡± said Nic. ¡°Or perhaps I¡¯m one of those unlikely elements. You predicted I would come and I came. Winnum Roke used a similar trick with her followers. She told them to watch for a sign and then returned with the very sign she had prophesied. She used the demons¡¯ method of abusing people¡¯s trust while making them feel part of something momentous. What use is it to rid this world of them if what¡¯s left behind is identical? There are no honourable tyrants I can think of from history. Maybe your world was different.¡±


    ¡°No, they were all high-functioning sociopaths.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure what that is,¡± said Nic, ¡°but I¡¯ll assume it isn¡¯t good.¡±


    ¡°It means someone who feels no responsibility for others.¡±


    ¡°Oh, we¡¯ve had a lot of those,¡± said Nic. ¡°They seem to have always been part of the fabric of our society. I¡¯m not sure why.¡±


    ¡°He will win, then.¡±


    ¡°In a few hundred years,¡± said Nic. ¡°Or maybe a few thousand. And then he will move on to his next entertainment. I won¡¯t be here and neither will anyone else.¡±


    ¡°And you don¡¯t care about your fellow humans? The children of your children¡¯s children.¡±


    The thought of having children of his own one day felt strange to Nic. Unreal.


    ¡°You already tried that and it cost you your whole world, and achieved nothing. I don¡¯t have the power to stand up to him, and if I did, it would only be because he allowed it to happen so I could give him a fresh perspective on his scheming. I¡¯d rather not have to play that role. I find it hard enough to live up to the expectations of the people I like.¡±


    ¡°I have not been coerced into becoming his mirror image,¡± said Winnum Roke.


    Nic straightened up and looked around. He had felt like he was in a dark corner, unwatched and unnoticed. Now it became apparent he was in the middle of the universe between a galaxy and a nebula.


    ¡°You aren¡¯t really Winnum Roke,¡± said Nic, ¡°so I don¡¯t think you can make that judgement. If she was really here, I don¡¯t think the High-Father would be quite so welcoming. If he truly feared any of us, we wouldn¡¯t be allowed into this place. Destruction of this room would probably set his work back thousands of years.¡±


    ¡°He is right,¡± said the creature. ¡°It makes sense that I was resurrected to further his ambitions. I don¡¯t believe it to be true, but that would be the case even if it were true - especially if it were true. I cannot trust my own thoughts on the matter, and neither can you. I recall you.¡±


    ¡°Wait,¡± said Winnum. ¡°No, not yet.¡±


    ¡°Yes, there is nothing more that needs to be said. Only what he wishes us to say.¡±


    Nic felt a pull in his mind, a twinge behind his eye. And then it was gone.


    ¡°She is a part of you?¡± Nic asked.


    ¡°She was a part of Winnum Roke, formed through my auspices. I carried her like a leaf floating down a stream.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re connected to the other place, to their ship?¡±


    ¡°I was their ship, for a long time.¡±


    ¡°Yes, I see,¡± said Nic. ¡°You destroyed your world and he seized control of you to fly away. You gave him an escape route.¡±


    ¡°Yes. The one thing I tried to prevent was the thing I ended up enabling. But I managed to stop him here. And so he sent Winnum Roke there, thinking she was taking his escape path away.¡±


    ¡°She repeated the same mistake you made,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°Someone always does,¡± said the creature.


    And what do you plan to do now?¡± asked the High-Father, sounding even more calm than the creature.


    ¡°Even this may well be part of his design.¡± The creature¡¯s even voice carried regret without needing to emphasise it. ¡°There is one last thing I am willing to try. One last thing that may fail but at least has a small chance of surprising even him. The power I protect, that he craves, I give it to you, little Tutt. You may do with it as you will. Destroy that which you deem necessary.¡±


    ¡°NO!¡± said Nic. ¡°If he can¡¯t take it from you, he can probably take it from me.¡±


    ¡°But he can take it from me,¡± said the creature. ¡°He always could. He just didn¡¯t wish to. He won¡¯t take it from you, either, not unless you release it freely into his care. But it is too late to rebuff my offer. It is already done. You are now in possession of a great power. Use it wisely. Or not. Decide for yourself.¡±


    Nic stopped to inspect himself, searching inside for change. He didn¡¯t feel any different. He was exactly the same as before.


    And then it started. A warmth inside him glowing like an ember, pulsing.

 Book 2: Chapter Twenty One

    Nic had no idea what to expect. He had been imbued with some great power, apparently. For all he knew, its first effect would be to kill him.


    The warmth rose through his body. It wasn¡¯t painful or even particularly hot. Heartburn after eating spicy food provided more of a painful reaction. It was unnatural how it moved inside him, though. As if something was working its way around his organs. It was an unsettling sensation.


    ¡°What did you do?¡± said Nic, looking down at his chest like he might see a glow from whatever was inside him.


    ¡°I have given you everything you need to do what you must,¡± said the creature. It was a concise but not very illuminating answer.


    ¡°Could you be a little more specific?¡± asked Nic. ¡°Will it hurt? Will it kill me? How does it work? What does it do? You don¡¯t have to answer them in order.¡± He didn¡¯t really expect to be answered at all, but there was always a first time.


    ¡°Everything will become apparent in a moment,¡± said the creature, ¡°but no, it won¡¯t kill you. There is a small possibility it will leave you unable to use your higher brain functions, but you will continue to live, as long as someone keeps feeding you.¡±


    Nic regretted asking for specifics. ¡°How small a possibility?¡± The warmth was up to the top of his chest, condensing into a ball about the size of a fruit pit, presumably in preparation for traversing up his throat.


    ¡°It¡¯s hard to say. I¡¯ve never attempted this with one of your kind. Humans are a resilient species, in general, so you have every chance of surviving with your mental faculties intact, for the most part. Don¡¯t be concerned if you lose control of your bowels.¡±


    Nic¡¯s face began to heat up, only partly because of whatever had been put inside him.


    Obtaining power rarely transpired without some kind of difficulty. The process was smoothed over when inherited directly from a parent, but even that required someone to give birth. Whatever was happening to him, it hadn¡¯t caused him to suffer anything more than a slight discomfort. So far.


    From what he had learned about mages, their transformation was far more gruelling. But the fact they suffered suggested to Nic that he would also. Possibly to an even greater extent. A painless shortcut would be welcome, but it would be foolish to put his hopes into such an outcome. He was just in the build-up phase and any second now his brain would explode and his body would burst into flames.


    He had no actual evidence for his concerns, but he had always been good at making an educated guess.


    Nic looked around for reassurance, possibly assistance if he needed to be doused in water. He was still surrounded by twinkling stars, although they all seemed far away again. The Librarian was most likely still here, but he couldn¡¯t see her.


    His brain was the target, although why it hadn¡¯t just started there, he didn¡¯t know. It had travelled from just above his stomach, through his chest, and was now rising from the back of his throat into the top of his skull. There wasn¡¯t anywhere else it could be headed.


    What would happen once it got there? What kind of power was it? If there were no drawbacks he very much doubted it would be given to him.


    He felt like talking, asking questions, making guesses to be confirmed or denied, but it was only the nervousness he felt, not a desire for answers. Whatever was going to happen to him, there was no avoiding it now. He had to accept the decision had already been made, without him. Would he have refused if given a choice? He probably would have asked a lot of questions first, which would only cause delay and provide him with no real understanding of what to expect.


    The truth was, he would have said yes, so he had no cause for complaint.


    The heat began to expand as it entered his mind. Winnum Roke was no longer there, the demon had left some time ago, it was just his own thoughts that were slowly being brought to the boil.


    He waited, teeth slightly gritted, eyes partially closed in preparation for the worst. The warmth dissipated, slightly heating his ears. The inside of his skull felt stuffy, like it had been filled with cotton wool, only not something quite that dense. Spiderwebs might describe it better. The threads tingled, as if someone was plucking at them. It made it hard to think clearly.


    The first thing he saw when he opened his eyes were clouds. He was looking at them from a dizzying angle, as though he was floating above them. He looked up and saw a dazzlement of glittering planes and angles that made him reel without moving. His mind was doing somersaults.


    Nic took a breath, a mental one. He couldn¡¯t feel his body anymore, didn¡¯t sense his limbs or the pressure of the ground beneath his feet. He tore his thoughts away from what that might mean. Instead, he concentrated.


    This was an ability he already had, one that had served him well. He could shut everything out and focus, bring himself to an undistracted state where only one thing held his attention. It came in handy when revising in a noisy study hall.


    He forced himself to stare into the chaotic kaleidoscope of lines and colours and matched their movements with his vision, not seeing them as random motion but as a pattern.


    They stopped moving. They didn¡¯t form a pattern, it was more like a tunnel, beyond which he saw stars. Not like the ones that had filled the room a moment ago, these were moving at incredible speed away from him. It wasn¡¯t like the movement you experienced when you ran or rode a fast carriage. He was moving and not moving at the same time ¡ª this was a speed that stretched.


    His mind raced to keep up with the luminous smears of colour that were streaks of indistinct shape and at the same time individual jewels of light. He felt like the darkness that served as a background would crack wide open, or maybe his mind would.


    He looked away, turning his vision down, back to the clouds. He used the same technique on them, hoping the result wouldn¡¯t risk the same kind of madness.


    The clouds parted. He saw land, he saw sea. Mountains and forests, and wides swathes of clearly demarcated farmlands in various hues of nature.


    The identity of this place was obvious to him, even though he had never seen it from this vantage point before. Even when he had flown as a dragon, he had never reached this height. And yet it was all so clear. He could see the trees and houses and people.


    Directly below him was Ranvar. Further afield were its neighbouring countries. He could shift his perspective with a tilt of his head. A farmhouse where a woman fed pigs from a metal bucket. A city where people swarmed like ants. A mountain where birds flew in soaring circles.


    There was sound, mostly wind. He tightened his focus and pushed past it so he could hear the birds squawk, further down, water rushing over a fall and crashing into a lake, the woman feeding pigs calling out, ¡°Din-dins! Come and get it my lovelies.¡± The pigs snorted and squelched about in the mud. Over by the city, the one he was inside, a cacophony of noise ebbed and flowed.


    He couldn¡¯t feel his face but he knew there was a smile on his lips. He was seeing the land as it was now, he was viewing the people and animals going about their business. There was no sense of closeness, he wasn¡¯t down there with them. It was as if he was seeing them through a telescope which he could adjust at will, but with none of the accompanying blur.  Everything was defined with crystal clarity.


    Could he enter the houses? See inside a specific room? He located the Librarium and sank through the roof. Was there anywhere he couldn¡¯t go? Any place restricted from this magical sight?


    As he approached the room he was now in, his mind seemed to buckle. He winced and turned back, allowing the image to recede. Apparently, there were some things that hurt to look at.


    The tunnel vision pulled back and broadened until he had the full panorama spread out beneath him again. It was an astonishing sight.


    ¡°It¡¯s real,¡± he said to himself.


    ¡°Yes,¡± said the creature, still an invisible presence beside him. ¡°This is your world, everything as it happens. No place is hidden from you, no conversation a secret. You can know whatever you wish to know.¡±


    ¡°Isn¡¯t there too much, though?¡± said Nic. ¡°How can I possibly take it all in? How can I know what I need to know and where to find it?¡±


    ¡°Is that what concerns you?¡± said the creature. It sounded slightly disappointed, perhaps a little mockingly so. ¡°No moral quandary for you, Nicolav? You can spy on people¡¯s most intimate moments, know their deepest secrets, and your only worry is you may miss some choice piece of scandal?¡±


    While the point was a fair one, it didn¡¯t sound a little disingenuous. The existence of this power was proof enough that it was already in use and his interrogator the one who had used it.


    ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± said Nic. ¡°This is an unreasonable intrusion into people¡¯s lives. I can see it being abused to great effect. The person who controls this power has the potential for great evil.¡±


    ¡°But not you, Nicolav?¡±


    Even without being able to see it, Nic could tell the creature was smiling just by the way the words sounded like they were curled up at the edges.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± said Nic, truthfully. ¡°I haven¡¯t really accepted what I¡¯m seeing, yet. I can go anywhere, hear anything?¡±


    ¡°You can.¡±


    ¡°I think it would be more useful if I had the ability to be everywhere at once,¡± said Nic. ¡°This¡­ I can see how you could use it to perfect a course of action, but if you wanted to be aware of action you needed to take, be aware of it as it happened, you could never hope to be in the right place at the right time.¡±This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    ¡°You couldn¡¯t,¡± said the creature. ¡°I can. I am able to process every conversation happening now, even as we speak. In truth, it takes up barely a fraction of my capacity.¡±


    ¡°And the High-Father, what about him? Could he use this to keep watch on us all?¡±


    ¡°He¡­ could.¡±


    The pause was strange to Nic¡¯s ear. It suggested there was more to say on the matter, and a decision not to say it.


    Did the High-Father really need something like this to achieve his goals, though? His power was already far in advance of anything the people of Ranvar or the other countries could put up in opposition to his ambitions. There was something else here, something less obvious than the ability to spy on people.


    ¡°How long have you been watching us?¡± asked Nic.


    ¡°A long time,¡± sighed the creature. Was the regret due to what it had seen or because of an inability to look away? ¡°I have seen your people rise from worms scrounging in the mud to dominators of their environment, slinging magic like it was their birthright. All that you are and all that you have done is recorded in my memory forever, every glory and every ugly moment.¡±


    ¡°Wait,¡± said Nic. ¡°Do you mean you have a record of everything that¡¯s happened since you started watching us?¡±


    ¡°I believe that is what I just said.¡±


    ¡°So if I ask you a question on a specific historical event, you can recall the answer? The true answer?¡±


    The possibilities were staggering if what he asked was true. Historical books and records only told part of the truth, sometimes not even that. Often the facts were deliberately obfuscated to hide some unpleasant detail ¡ª Ranvar¡¯s history was littered with such ¡®adjustments,¡¯ the reality lost under lies and exaggerations. To be able to learn the facts of an event could reveal a far greater understanding of what had happened to lead to the current moment than the doctored texts allowed.


    ¡°I can do more than tell you,¡± said the creature, ¡°I can show you.¡±


    The land below seemed to warp and shift. Some features shrivelled while others expanded. Rivers changed course and whole mountains appeared from nowhere.


    ¡°Here you can see the most famous of your battles, a lamentable orgy of violence.¡±


    Down below, masses of troops wheeled and charged at one another. They were smaller than toy soldiers, but the clash of bodies, weapons tearing through flesh, horses screaming in their death throes, was like no child¡¯s game.


    It was the Battle of Carjeer. Nic could tell with just a glance, knew the date and the principal players. It had led to the founding of Ranvar City, or Ranvarakarathan, as it was known then.


    But even though he recognised the standards flying in the midst of the fighting, this was not quite the engagement he had been taught at school or by the many books on the subject. There were six armies, not five as were reported. And they weren¡¯t united against one valiant foe, it looked much more like a free for all.


    ¡°And here, the death of the only queen your people allowed to sit on your much-venerated throne.¡±


    The land warped again, bubbling and twisting. Nic¡¯s focus was drawn to a building he recognised from a painting hanging in the Librarium ¡ª Marston Palace. The artist had done an admirable job, the turrets and towers accurately portrayed, only the colours a little different ¡ª the painting had the pointed roofs a brick-red, similar to the Royal College, whereas the original was copper turned to verdigris. But accuracy couldn¡¯t adequately convey the spectacular architecture, the wild curves and spiralling fortifications hanging impossibly over the edge of Marston Cliffs. It had been built back when impossible structures convinced to stand through the persuasive powers of Arcanum were the fashion. Neither the palace nor the cliffs still existed. Persuasion could always come undone.


    Nic¡¯s vision narrowed into a tight circle, down to a window, tilting either him or the world to let him see a bedchamber where men surrounded a bed with swords drawn, stabbing the naked woman on the bed. The men were also naked, save for masks. The queen was tied to the bedposts, screaming obscenities as blood spurted everywhere.


    That wasn¡¯t how the death of Queen Dygna was told in the history books. She was murdered, but in the Grand Garden, the trusted Count D¡¯acosta attacking her from behind with a poisoned dagger while she admired the roses named after her.


    ¡°It is all here, just as it happened,¡± said the creature. ¡°You may see any moment of your history. Every conversation, every deed committed.¡±


    It was difficult to appreciate the full scope of what he was being shown. It was too huge and all-encompassing to even start thinking about how to use it effectively. But still, there was a bigger question pressing on him than what he could do with this power to see everything.


    ¡°I don¡¯t understand,¡± said Nic. ¡°What would the High-Father want with this?¡±


    ¡°What does any tyrant want? Control.¡±


    Nic wasn¡¯t so sure.


    ¡°Can you show me¡ª¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t need to ask,¡± said the creature. ¡°This is inside you, now. You merely need to think of the moment you wish to see and it will appear.¡±


    ¡°I can choose any moment from history?¡±


    ¡°While you are here, yes. Your mind is too¡­ basic to be able to contain your whole history. Away from this place, you can access this view to see what is happening around you in the current moment. I hope you can appreciate the magnitude of such an ability.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said Nic, ¡°I don¡¯t think I can.¡±


    ¡°An honest and accurate answer. Perhaps this won¡¯t turn out to be a terrible mistake. Two in a row might start to look like a habit.¡±


    The convivial tone only made Nic more tense.


    The High-Father allowed those around him to do as they pleased, using their unpredictability to boost his own drive for ever-greater progress, or so it had been claimed. But then why would he want to maintain control over the very people whose ability to surprise was what attracted him in the first place? Surely he would want the opposite of control.


    It only took a moment for the answer to appear. Control, not order. The word itself had misled Nic. It suggested formality and convention, but all it really meant was determination. The High-Father didn¡¯t want everything to proceed in a prescribed manner. He didn¡¯t want to control people to be easier to manage or to guide them in a preferred direction. He wanted to control them to make sure that didn¡¯t happen.


    The more chaotic, the better.


    If an era of stability and peaceful cooperation came about ¡ª Nic wasn¡¯t sure how that would occur, but it was technically a possibility ¡ª it would slow down the High-Father¡¯s progress. He didn¡¯t want that to happen, and he was doing a fine job of ensuring it didn¡¯t, but there was certainly potential for more mayhem.


    The obvious answer would be to make Arcanum available to all and then stand back as people tore each other apart. But Nic had already seen some vestige of that approach, and it had led to a direct threat to the High-Father himself. It might yet give him what he wanted, but it might also ruin everything.


    No, simply letting the demons run wild throughout the world would be too unpredictable. Controlled chaos, as paradoxical as it sounded, was a better solution. The systematic and ruthless tightening of a screw until it creaked and groaned, threatening to snap and bring down the very thing it was holding in place.


    The thought was cold and frightening. All it would take was a total lack of empathy for the human race.


    Nic looked down on the world, on his home, and wasn¡¯t sure what to do. Not allowing the High-Father to have this was, of course, the right choice. How long would he be able to prevent that from happening? The High-Father might not think it ¡®sporting¡¯ to simply snatch it away, but that didn¡¯t mean he wouldn¡¯t try other means to get his way. He could use various tricks to get Nic to give orders on his behalf.


    But what power did Nic really have? He could see everything, hear every word, but then what? How could he use that to achieve whatever it was he hoped to achieve? He didn¡¯t even know what that was. World peace? A stable and prosperous economic system for all? How do you stop people from being chaotic in their lives? Wasn¡¯t that just part of their nature?


    ¡°I see,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°You do?¡± said the creature, sounding mildly surprised.


    ¡°No, not like that,¡± said Nic. ¡°But I see what I have to figure out. Who else knows about this? Just us in this room and Winnum?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said the creature.


    ¡°And the High-Father won¡¯t tell anyone else?¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t say for sure, but I don¡¯t think so. Why? Are you worried they will try to take it from you? They can¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not that,¡± said Nic. ¡°They might decide to manipulate me through others, or just eliminate me altogether. I don¡¯t have any way to defend myself or the people close to me. As powerful as this is ¡ª and even without fully understanding it, I can see it is immensely powerful ¡ª it doesn¡¯t actually stop someone from killing me. I mean, I¡¯ll be able to see them coming to my house with their knives out, but that¡¯s about it.¡±


    ¡°Your concern for your own personal safety is not without cause,¡± said the creature. ¡°I wish you well.¡±


    It would have been nice if there had also been the offer of a magic sword or personal bodyguard. A thick jacket with chainmail lining would have been a very appreciated gift. The gift of optimism was all he was getting in that department.


    Nic looked down at the world again. There was so much of it. Even with his ability to see and hear the tiniest occurrence, it was a monumental task to put it to use. The creature might have the necessary mental ability to see it all at once, and be able to recall any part of it at will, but he certainly didn¡¯t. How could he simplify what he was seeing?


    ¡°Show me dragons,¡± said Nic.


    Nothing changed, the view was the same all-encompassing one, but there were dots that glowed now. When he focused on them, they were each a dragon, highlighted so he could locate them easily. They were gathered in tight groups, none of them in the air. They seemed to be sleeping. If they were dead, would they still appear to him? The body of the High-Father in the Royal College wasn¡¯t among those marked for him.


    ¡°Show me the armed forces of every nation bordered with Ranvar,¡± he said.


    Thousands of lights appeared across the world. Then they changed colour, different countries showing as separate colours.


    ¡°Did I do that?¡± said Nic.


    ¡°I assisted to make it clearer,¡± said the creature. ¡°You will learn how with time and practice.¡±


    The armies of all countries clearly pinpointed. How could anyone hope to defeat someone with a power like this? Of course, he would need an army of his own to make full use of the advantage.


    As he looked down, something became apparent. The other countries had their troops amassed along their borders with Ranvar. It might be normal to secure their borders in troubled times, but they had also left the rest of their borders and other defensive positions unguarded to gather all their men at the Ranvar borders. He looked around. Every country was the same. They were preparing to attack in unison.


    ¡°Show all Ranvarian forces. In green.¡± It was the only obvious colour not taken already.


    Green dots appeared along every border. They were aware of the threat, at least. Were they prepared to deal with it? They had no dragons to back them up, but they had magic. Although, this time the enemy did too, or at least some of them, in a crude form.


    If the High-Father¡¯s goal was chaos, he was doing just fine. Then again, how much worse would he make things if he got hold of the power now in Nic¡¯s hands?


    ¡°Stop.¡± Nic closed his eyes. His head was starting to hurt. Not from the ability to see so much but from the sheer weight of expectation he felt now that he had this knowledge within his grasp.


    When he opened his eyes again, the room was back to white and empty, with only the Librarian standing next to him.


    ¡°We should go,¡± she said. ¡°You look tired.¡±


    ¡°The High-Father¡­?¡±


    ¡°The High-Father will allow you time to work through what you have learned here. It wouldn¡¯t be fair to rush you. But you won¡¯t have very long.¡±


    Nic nodded, a little unsteady on his feet now that he was back on the ground. He had never really left, but facts were not always what had the greatest effect on the mind.

 Book 2: Chapter Twenty Two

    The Librarian led the way back to the stairs. She raised the lantern high, as if to show Nic what he had in store ¡ª a lot of steps ¡ª and drew herself up as well, becoming Periwinkle. His clothes filled out at the same time, taking on the more masculine shape of a rugged man who used his brawn to accomplish tasks. Looks could be deceiving and in Nic¡¯s recent experience almost always were.


    ¡°Does your device have a way to take us back up?¡± he asked.


    ¡°No,¡± said Periwinkle, the voice deeper. ¡°It doesn¡¯t work like that. I can affect what you see and hear but not the effect gravity has on you.¡±


    ¡°You couldn¡¯t grow wings and use them to fly us out?¡±


    Periwinkle smiled in a way that transformed the lower part of his face into the Librarian¡¯s. Now that he knew it was her, it was easy to see beyond the mask.


    ¡°If I grew wings large enough to enable flight, they would be too big to fit in this stairwell.¡±


    Nic hadn¡¯t expected the answer to be quite so pragmatic. It did confirm that she could have done it in the open, though. The device on her wrist was something he¡¯d like to know more about.


    He raised his head and looked past her at the steps illuminated by the lantern. His body sagged with exhaustion just from thinking about how far up they had to go.


    ¡°There¡¯s no easier way to the top?¡± he asked.


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid not,¡± said the Librarian, the lantern swinging gently in her hand. ¡°You¡¯ve been getting stronger, haven¡¯t you? This will be good exercise for you.¡±


    From anyone else, he would have taken it as an attempt to mock the modicum of progress he¡¯d made in getting himself physically fit, but the Librarian was being serious. Climbing stairs was a good way to get stronger. They began the ascent.


    His head felt oddly empty. For the first time in a long time, he wasn¡¯t carrying a passenger. He could tell the difference. He felt alone.


    ¡°How do you think I did?¡± he asked from behind Periwinkle.


    There was a long pause before Periwinkle spoke, using the Librarian¡¯s voice. ¡°Do you recall the story of the five merchant princes?¡±


    ¡°The one from your book of myths and fairy tales?¡± said Nic.


    ¡°The book by Wink Munroe,¡± the Librarian corrected him.


    ¡°Yes, I remember it. Are you saying this is a similar situation?¡±


    The story was a simple allegory, about a merchant in competition with four others, and how they formed a pact to manage the market between them to their personal benefit. With the five of them fixing prices and preventing anyone else from competing, it was a fairly easy task to keep the money flowing and to give customers no other option but to accept their terms.


    They became wealthy and lived the lives of minor royalty, princes among their kind.


    But the first prince, the one whose idea it had been to form their association, convinced three others to join in him pushing out the fourth. One share of four was better than one share of five.


    Greed and an eye for a good deal drove them to reduce their membership, and then to turn on another and another, until only two were left, the first prince and one other.


    And of course, they turned against each other also, until only one was left. But it wasn¡¯t the first prince who claimed the crown for himself, because being the architect of a dream did not entitle you to claim it.


    ¡°I am saying,¡± said the Librarian, ¡°that the reason people agree to join forces with people they don¡¯t trust, who they know can leave them with nothing, is that they believe they have a chance to be the victor and not the victim. And they do. If only one person in five can win, then only one will win, but which one?¡±


    ¡°The one who wants it most?¡± said Nic.


    ¡°Possibly. But I can tell you who will not win ¡ª the one who wants it least. If you leave your advantage lying around, someone will pick it up and use it against you.¡±


    ¡°When you wrote those stories,¡± said Nic, ¡°under the Wink Monroe name, was it meant as a warning to others? Because I was never really sure what you were trying to say.¡±


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t trying to say anything. I was jotting down things I¡¯d seen on this world and many others. Do you know, there¡¯s a world where the different peoples don¡¯t engage in war or any kind of violence? Instead, when they have a dispute, over property, over land, they race their wahari ¡ª tall dog-like animals with long legs and no necks. They train them to run very fast, almost quicker than the eye can see, and the winner is given their prize without fuss.¡±


    ¡°They give the dog the prize?¡± said Nic.


    Periwinkle snorted. ¡°The winner¡¯s owner is given the prize, as I¡®m sure you understood, Nicolav. The champion wahari is roasted and eaten at the celebratory feast.¡±


    ¡°That seems a little unfair,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°When so much relies on the outcome of a race, there is great temptation to cheat,¡± said the Librarian. ¡°Many drugs can be used to enhance a wahari¡¯s speed, but they¡¯re all very toxic to their owners.¡± Periwinkle looked over her shoulder at Nic. The smile was made with Periwinkle¡¯s mouth and the Librarian¡¯s teeth.


    Nic didn¡¯t fancy being invited to any celebratory feasts.


    ¡°The creature gave me access to this knowledge and no indication of what to do with it.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Periwinkle. ¡°I believe that is for you to decide.¡± He was still talking like the Librarian, which was disconcerting. ¡°The fate of your people is in your hands.¡±


    It sounded ridiculous when put like that. It was not a task he was qualified for. Nobody was, when he really thought about it.


    ¡°I find it hard to believe either of them would genuinely want me to decide anything. Wouldn¡¯t they rather be the ones to make those sorts of decisions?¡±


    ¡°Sometimes only one person gets to make the choice and more than one wants to. In those cases, it can be easier to let a third, neutral party make the choice.¡±


    ¡°See whose call the wahari responds to?¡± said Nic. Was that what was happening here?


    ¡°It means they need you and are willing to give you enough freedom so that its loss can be put to use. If you are strong enough to resist the High-Father¡¯s influence, you can forge your own path.¡±


    ¡°What about the creature¡¯s influence? Surely it wants me to do things in a certain way.¡±


    ¡°Indeed, I would not be surprised. Or it might leave it to you, now that the choice has been made. You can¡¯t predict a player¡¯s moves if the player doesn¡¯t control the pieces.¡±


    It was sounding more and more like a game. Was that all it was? Unimaginably powerful entities so bored with eternity they used whole worlds as their fields of play? He was the ball, about to be kicked repeatedly in an effort to move him in an intended direction.


    ¡°So it¡¯s important my role is given to someone as naive and unsophisticated as possible so their moves land on an empty board? It doesn¡¯t even matter if I¡¯m aware of what they¡¯re doing?¡±


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter,¡± said Periwinkle, his breath a little short, ¡°but we are merely speculating while we climb these interminable stairs.¡± The voice was deep again and the tone and posture Periwinkle¡¯s.


    They reached the second landing and paused, more for Nic¡¯s benefit, although the Librarian was putting on an act of also breathing hard. She seemed to enjoy playing her role. Nic had been doing his best to keep up with the Librarian¡¯s pace, trying to think of it as an exercise. Now that they¡¯d stopped, he felt like he might not be able to start moving again.


    Periwinkle raised the lantern as though it would show their destination. It only showed more stairs.


    ¡°I was surprised you didn¡¯t ask about your father,¡± said Periwinkle, still looking in the direction of the stairs.


    ¡°You know¡­¡± Nic was still breathing hard and found it hard to speak at the same time. ¡°You know about him?¡±


    ¡°Just that he was in the military and died under mysterious circumstances. I am sure it has weighed on your mind. You are his son, after all. The creature could have shown you how he died.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Nic. He stood up straight and inhaled, reclaiming his ability to breathe. ¡°It¡¯s something I considered. I spent a lot of time trying to find out and got nowhere. I think it¡¯s something the government wants to keep secret which, knowing our government, probably doesn¡¯t bode well. I¡­ I¡¯m afraid to see it.¡±


    It was the simplest way to put it. When the task was to dig up information that might lead to more places to dig, his goal was to get nearer the truth and that was fine. But the creature wasn¡¯t making clues available, he was able to show exactly what happened. He was able to put Nic in the place where it happened, watching as it happened. The thought had made Nic¡¯s curiosity falter.


    ¡°I see. Not because it would be too gruesome,¡± said Periwinkle. ¡°Because of what it might reveal about him.¡±


    ¡°Because I think of him as my mother remembers him. I don¡¯t know if I want to exchange that for who he really was.¡±


    ¡°Maybe he was who your mother thinks he was. She knew him best, don¡¯t you think?¡±If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    Nic bowed his head. He felt embarrassed. Was he underestimating his mother? Undervaluing his father? Was it easier to assume a member of the Ranvarian army would have been charged with unpleasant duties and possibly been good at them? Enjoyed them, even. What difference would it make to his mother¡¯s memory? It was only his own view of the man that would change.


    ¡°Maybe ¡®afraid¡¯ wasn¡¯t the right word,¡± he said. ¡°I don¡¯t want to lose him. Selfish might be the correct word.¡±


    ¡°No, Nic,¡± said Periwinkle, looking at him. ¡°That isn¡¯t the right word.¡± He smiled and turned to carry on climbing.


    ¡°You aren¡¯t one of them,¡± said Nic as he hurried to not be left in the darkness. ¡°Are you like the creature? Did the High-Father build you, too?¡±


    Periwinkle laughed in the Librarian¡¯s voice. ¡°No. Not quite. But I too am from another world, taken as a memento. The ship, that came from the creature¡¯s world, dead and rudderless, the High-Father gave me the ability to fly it. The plans for the creature¡¯s construction were hidden within the ship. I found them, gave them to the High-Father.¡±


    ¡°Did you know what it was?¡±


    ¡°I only knew it was something powerful and unlikely to succumb to the High-Father¡¯s wishes.¡±


    Nic walked on in silence. Perhaps the game had more players than he realised. He wasn¡¯t sure what that meant, other than more people trying to kick the ball.


    When they finally reached the top of the staircase, Simole was waiting for them, looking bored. Nic looked past her ¡ª the others were still asleep, just as he¡¯d left them.


    ¡°You made it back in one piece, then,¡± said Simole.


    ¡°You weren¡¯t expecting me to survive?¡± said Nic.


    ¡°Oh, I knew you¡¯d be back,¡± said Simole. ¡°How else would you face your true opponent?¡± She glanced over her shoulder towards where Dizzy was lying on the floor. ¡°Did you bring me back anything? It¡¯s customary to return from a trip bearing gifts.¡± She gave him an expectant look.


    ¡°No, sorry,¡± said Nic. ¡°There wasn¡¯t a gift shop.¡±


    ¡°Shame. It wasn¡¯t very exciting waiting for you. I ended up doing a bit of reading.¡± She looked over her other shoulder where a large book was glowing on top of a case.


    ¡°You took a book out of its case,¡± said Periwinkle, his voice filling Nic with concern. It took a lot to shock the Librarian.


    ¡°Is that bad?¡± Simole asked. ¡°I won¡¯t catch some kind of demonic infection, will I?¡± She didn¡¯t sound concerned at all.


    Periwinkle didn¡¯t respond, he just looked around in consternation at all the other books out of their cases.


    ¡°I think,¡± said Nic, ¡°they were in the cases to keep them from falling apart. They¡¯re very old.¡±


    ¡°Age does that for a purpose,¡± said Simole. ¡°Hanging around too long doesn¡¯t do anyone any good.¡± She gave Periwinkle a look that suggested she wasn¡¯t just talking in the abstract.


    ¡°Was there anything interesting in any of them?¡± asked Nic, eager to avoid a direct confrontation between the two.


    ¡°Bits and pieces. It¡¯s in that fancy language where nothing is said in two words when it can be said in twenty. Not much of a plot, either. Makes your fingers tingle when you turn the pages, though. How about you? Pick up anything interesting down there? High-Father give you some pointers?¡± She was using the expectant look again.


    ¡°Um, sort of. I¡¯m not sure, really. I got to see a map.¡±


    ¡°Ooh, a map? Fascinating.¡±


    ¡°It was, actually,¡± said Nic. ¡°It let me see where everyone is. Troops and dragons and everything.¡±


    ¡°You can point where they are right now, can you?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± She caught on quickly.


    ¡°So, you¡¯re a signpost.¡±


    ¡°No, I wouldn¡¯t say that¡­ but kind of.¡± He had been thinking of ways to use the ability that had been bestowed on him. It certainly had potential if used under the right circumstances. But Simole, as ever, had cut through to the core of what he was ¡ª a signpost to direct others.


    ¡°Cheer up,¡± said Simole, grinning. ¡°Everyone¡¯s pleased to see a signpost. The more lost people are, the more welcome it is. If only you were a bit taller, then people could spot you a bit easier.¡±


    ¡°Thanks,¡± said Nic, not entirely sure if she was being massively cruel or moderately kind. ¡°I suppose we should wake everyone up. What do we tell them?¡±


    ¡°They won¡¯t need to be told anything,¡± said Periwinkle. ¡°But we had better put these books back where they belong.¡±


    ¡°Go ahead,¡± said Simole. ¡°I¡¯ve finished with them anyway.¡±


    Nic sensed a momentary intention in the Librarian to say something, to put Simole in her place. Nic would have advised against it, his signpost would very definitely point in the opposite direction. But his advice wasn¡¯t needed, or indeed asked for. The Librarian, Periwinkle, took out some gloves and proceeded to put the books back in their cases, holding them at arm¡¯s length as though they might bite him.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think you should have touched them with your bare hands,¡± Nic said to Simole. ¡°They might have done something to you.¡±


    Simole shook her head. ¡°I¡¯ll be fine. You just worry about what you¡¯re going to do next. Whatever it is, I¡¯m sure it¡¯ll be fine. The important thing is to try your best. And if you fail and everything falls apart because you weren¡¯t up to the job, I¡¯ll be happy to mop after you.¡±


    It was hard to not be a little irked by her arrogant tone and her complete dismissal of his role. It was like she was letting him have a go as a favour, before she took over and showed him how it was really done. The fact she was fully justified in her attitude didn¡¯t really help.


    Simole¡¯s face broke into a laugh. ¡°There¡¯s no need to look like that, I¡¯m just teasing you. You¡¯re so easy, I don¡¯t know why I even bother. Look, I know they¡¯ll be prepared for me, but they won¡¯t be prepared for you. That¡¯s your secret weapon.¡±


    ¡°My lack of knowing what I¡¯m doing¡±


    ¡°Exactly. And also having me on your side. They think I¡¯m going to help you.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not?¡±


    ¡°Not in the way they think. To be honest, I don¡¯t really care about any of their squabbles. Demons and dragons and mages ¡ª they¡¯re more like toddlers in a nursery fighting over the toys. They can all blow each other up in giant fireballs if they want. People dying isn¡¯t really so terrible, happens all the time. It would be bad if you remembered it afterwards, but you don¡¯t. Death is very reasonable that way. They expect me to come at them directly, like I¡¯ve been trained to do, but that¡¯s going to be your job.¡±


    This was the first time he¡¯d been told what his job was, and he felt like he¡¯d rather still be in the dark. ¡°And what will your job be?¡±


    ¡°Watching your back. There¡¯s only one way people win these things. They cheat. Winners always act like they believe in the rules and then never follow them themselves. My father included. It¡¯s how you win, you convince everyone else to handicap themselves. I know all their tricks, because I¡¯m one of them. Plus, I read all these books. They contain the history of the Royal College and how they formed a pact with the High-Father. Quite interesting, once you get past the waffling.¡±


    ¡°You said they were boring and hard to read,¡± said Nic, feeling he¡¯d been had.


    ¡°They are. But I¡¯m used to that, thanks to you.¡± She grinned again and slapped him on the back. ¡°Thanks for pointing me in the right direction.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s done,¡± said Periwinkle, taking off his gloves. ¡°We can wake them now.¡±


    Nic wanted to stop him and read the books himself. If they really contained the history of the Royal College, there might be something he could use. The history books he was used to tended to be of questionable value since it wasn¡¯t only your own students who learned how you had succeeded. It allowed your enemies to learn your methods, too. The books about Ranvar¡¯s conquests made a great deal of the power of mages and Arcanum, to a surprisingly candid degree. But they made very little mention of dragons, other than in a ceremonial way, flying over victory parades and attending coronations.


    Nic suspected the dragons, vessels for the transfer of demons to humans, were much more integral to battle and their involvement had been downplayed so as to not alert future enemies to their threat.


    If the books in this room contained a more accurate history, they might reveal such truths and allow Nic to see the other options available. There was a war coming, of that he was sure, and the dragons would not be taking part this time.


    ¡°I¡¯ll ask you to not speak of what happened here to the others,¡± Periwinkle said to Simole.


    ¡°I¡¯ll ask you to remember I gave you this chance,¡± said Simole, her tone cold but somehow friendly at the same time. ¡°I don¡¯t know how you are indentured to them, but if you are the type of slave who has become fond of its master, you¡¯ll get no sympathy from me. If you end up betraying us, I will deal with you personally.¡±


    Periwinkle didn¡¯t exactly look flustered, but somewhat unsettled by the threat, maybe. In the end, perhaps Simole was going to be the person who sorted everything out and he was kidding himself into thinking his role mattered. She was allowing him the opportunity to make something of himself, but if there was no need, why bother?


    The others woke with a start. They got to their feet, straightened up and looked around, a little dazed. Nic was sure they would want to know what had happened, why they were slouched over the cases or lying on the floor. But after a few seconds of blinking, they carried on examining the books in their cases, even Dizzy.


    After a few more minutes, Periwinkle announced it was time for them to leave, and everyone complied without fuss.


    Dizzy stopped Nic from following. ¡°What happened?¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± said Nic.


    ¡°You¡¯re acting strange.¡± While she might not be able to recall what had happened to her, he could, and she could see it in him, or some vestige of it.


    ¡°It¡¯s this place,¡± said Nic. ¡°It¡¯s not what it seems. The High-Father put a creature here. I spoke to it, in my head. It gave me a new way to look at things.¡±


    Her eyes narrowed as she considered his answer. He had decided to give her a version of the truth; he didn¡¯t think he¡¯d be able to get away with an actual lie to her face. He needed to work on that.


    ¡°You¡¯re helping him, aren¡¯t you?¡± Dizzy said to Simole, barely a question.


    Simole smiled. ¡°Jealous?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°Disappointed. You¡¯re far too soft on him. He needs to be ready to do this on his own, not have you waiting to catch him when he falls.¡± She turned and followed the others out.


    Dizzy didn¡¯t speak to him again on the way home. She sat opposite him and stared at him the whole way. Nic didn¡¯t actually mind. He found it quite pleasant, actually.


    They returned to the school without any problems, the swift carriage getting them home before it was dark. Mr Periwinkle made a short speech about what they had seen and how it showed them what the Royal College was all about. He didn¡¯t mention any specifics and no one asked for any. Everyone seemed to have a memory of having seen the thing that demonstrated what he was talking about, whatever that was.


    Nic returned to the cottage with Brill and then went to dinner with the others. Their conversation was the same as ever, making jokes and teasing one another. Nic didn¡¯t feel any different, his newly acquired power not apparent to him.


    It was only when he was alone in his room ¡ª truly alone, for once ¡ª that he was able to sink into the depths of his own mind and see the world from the perspective of a bird. He was seeing it at night, large swathes of it hidden in darkness, twinkling lights in single and in groups, showing him where people were congregated.


    The land beneath him appeared just at is had in the Librarium. A tiny, perfect replica he could examine at his leisure, from any vantage point he wished. He was tempted to spy on Dizzy, but it would be inappropriate to do so, especially this late. To catch her undressed or in a bath¡­ it wasn¡¯t that such things didn¡¯t appeal to him, it was more the thought of how it would make her feel if she knew. He didn¡¯t want to disappoint her on purpose.


    He scanned the whole world, not looking for anything in particular, finding it hard to stop watching the world simply existing. How was he supposed to make use of this? What did the creature expect him to do?


    He went far afield, beyond the nations bordering Ranvar, finding strange landscapes, deserts and mountains he didn¡¯t recognise and oceans that seemed endless. The further he went, the less important the troubles of a few small countries seemed. Would it really matter so much if the High-Father took control of this small corner of a vast world?


    It was a lot to take in, a lot to study. It was also very absorbing and he could have carried on all night. He drew back to his starting point, hovering over the school.


    ¡°Show me all Secret Service agents,¡± he said. Tiny pinpoints of light appeared beneath him. Every agent, their locations revealed. He could see two of the lights approaching the window of his room, he could even see what colour they were.


    Nic rose from his bed and got changed. By the time they appeared inside his room, he was in his gym clothes, ready.


    ¡°You look like you were expecting us,¡± said White.


    ¡°I¡¯m trying to be more proactive. Set myself some goals.¡±


    ¡°What goals do you have?¡± asked Black.


    That was the question, wasn¡¯t it?


    ¡°Well,¡± said Nic. ¡°I¡¯d like to be able to climb eighteen flights of stairs, forty-two steps in each flight, without losing my breath.¡±


    ¡°That is oddly specific,¡± said White. ¡°But achievable.¡±


    If Nic had yet to decide on the larger goals in his life, he could at least decide on the smaller one.

 Book 2: Chapter Twenty Three

    Nic spent the next several weeks training with the Secret Service agents in the hours before dawn. He had expected the experience to leave him exhausted and unable to function at his best in class, but it had the opposite effect.


    His body suffered greatly, with pains in places he had never experienced pain before, but his mind felt clear and refreshed. He wasn¡¯t sure if it was just the regime of exercise and digital manipulation of his muscles by the agent in the black mask, but he noticed the difference after each session. He could think like himself. The fact his mind was his own once more, with no other residents taking up space, might also have been a factor.


    The agents¡¯ attitude towards him changed as he started to improve. He wasn¡¯t able to complete any of the tasks they set him, but they seemed to appreciate the effort Nic was putting in.


    He appreciated the effort they spent in forcing him to keep at it, no matter how terrible his initial results were. Nic had never had a father to teach him how to be a physical presence. He wasn¡¯t entirely sure that was what a father did, but it would have helped, he felt. Now he had two men taking great care to get him into some sort of masculine condition.


    Not that you had to be physically fit to be considered a man, it just helped Nic feel more confident about his future.


    Logically, all the running and jumping in the world wouldn¡¯t help him if he was to go up against the High-Father or the Archmage, but it seemed less terrifying when he could run up and down the stairs in the cottage without panting for breath.


    ¡°You¡¯ll have to learn to defend yourself,¡± said Black, like he thought it would not turn out very well if the situation called for any kind of combat. ¡°Your first consideration should always to be to get away from the problem.¡±


    ¡°Run like hell,¡± said White.


    Nic was able to recognise the two agents quite easily now. He didn¡¯t think they were an assortment of agents wearing the same masks, as he had when he first encountered them. Spending time with them ¡ª even when it was only to be brutally stretched and twisted ¡ª had made it easy to recognise their voices and their demeanour. Even their masks seemed to take on expressions that reflected their individual tone and attitude.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think it¡¯ll be an option,¡± said Nic. ¡°When I¡¯ve been in trouble before, it¡¯s usually been people who took precautions to make sure I was trapped.¡±


    ¡°In that case,¡± said Black, ¡°you need to employ unconventional methods to gain the upper hand. You¡¯re small and weak.¡±


    ¡°And slow,¡± added White.


    ¡°Aim for the eyes and the groin,¡± said Black.


    ¡°I should fight dirty?¡± Nic wasn¡¯t against the idea in principle, but he wasn¡¯t sure it would necessarily work in his favour. His treatment if he was caught after kicking someone in the crotch would probably be worse than if simply surrendered. The ideal outcome was obviously not to get caught, but his record wasn¡¯t so great in that regard.


    ¡°There¡¯s no such thing as dirty fighting,¡± said White. ¡°There¡¯s only survival. How you achieve that has never been subject to any rules or laws. You can¡¯t receive a caution for inappropriate behaviour if you¡¯re dead.¡±


    ¡°Eyes and groin,¡± said Nic, already feeling uncomfortable. ¡°What if I have to fight a woman?¡±


    The two blank masks seemed to be looking at him in a judgemental manner, although he might have been imagining it.


    The agents took him through a series of moves that required him to use his knees and elbows. He was encouraged to grow his nails and to diminish his sense of impropriety. They were emergency measures, and in an emergency you had to be prepared to put aside good manners.


    ¡°The only unforgivable sin in a fight is to freeze,¡± said Black. ¡°Whether it¡¯s a war or a brawl in a tavern, if you act without reservation, even the wrong thing can work in your favour. Doing nothing will only get you killed.¡±


    It became easier as the stiffness and painful joints lessened in the mornings. He still had classes to attend ¡ª the Arts Course, Advanced Economic Analysis and Military Strategy ¡ª on top of which there was the world map he was now carrying with him everywhere he went.


    Nic could sink into his mind and spend hours floating above the world, watching life go on with no inkling of a threat approaching. Maybe there wasn¡¯t one, not for the general population. Certainly not for the people hundreds of kilometres away.


    Sometimes, he would spot a ship out at sea and follow it as it bobbed about in the waves. It was surprisingly soothing, although sometime it would take a moment to realise that what appeared as tiny waves to him were rising higher than the ship¡¯s masts and was probably not a very soothing experience for the crew.


    Nic had yet to come up with a good use for this worldwide awareness he now had. If he told anyone about it, he was sure they would find a good use for it and for him, but he had no desire to become a resource for others to exploit as they saw fit.


    He would go to bed and drift off with the world beneath him, pondering what he should do with his newly found wealth of knowledge. He could see whatever he wished as long as he knew what to call it. As great an advantage as it was to be able to see where your enemies were hiding, it only worked if you knew who your enemies were.


    He could ask to see the Gweurvian troop placements, but how to differentiate between the forces loyal to the government and those to the rebels? They were all technically people of Gweur.


    And even those who claimed to be for one side over the other might not be. Would it show him what people were or what they claimed to be? How did it tell the difference?


    Nic tried various different approached to get a handle on how it worked, asking for the same thing in different ways to compare results. It was studying with the whole world as his textbook.


    He made notes and drew charts. He created a whole system to try and break down the common factors when it came to choosing a specific target, going from viewing an entire species of an animal, to the one owned by his neighbour. The world was full of donkeys, it turned out.


    The ability of the map to show him huge numbers of highlighted points of light was staggering. It could seem overwhelming from his overview ¡ª where to start? ¡ª but when he closed in, each individual dot was what he had asked to be shown.


    Not everything was as simple. Some commands he thought were obvious showed him nothing. It was often hard to know where the problem was or how nuanced he had to be to get what he wanted. Honest men got him nothing. People who could be trusted more than half the time produced more points of light than he could estimate.


    Usually, he would fall asleep to be awakened by the arrival of his early morning fitness instructors, but sometimes he would lose track and be immersed in the world in a way he had never been from down on the ground. If he spent too much time on it, he would get a sharp pain in his head.


    It always subsided after a break but it was a concern. Was this thing harming him in some way? It wasn¡¯t made to fit inside a mind like his, he was pretty sure. What if one day the pain just stayed with him?


    The training with the agents was what helped him overcome his fear. He felt stronger and better. He had no evidence that would protect him from his head being ripped asunder by his newly acquired gift, but it couldn¡¯t hurt.


    He did ask the Librarian about it. She was the only one who knew the power he was now in possession of, and her knowledge of it was superior to his.


    ¡°It¡¯s nothing to worry about,¡± said Mr Periwinkle after class. ¡°Your young brain is still soft and malleable. If you were older, there might be cause for concern ¡ª a little atrophy to be wary of.¡±


    ¡°Atrophy?¡± asked Nic, not liking the sound of the word.


    ¡°The surface of the brain, the outer membrane, it can shrivel up and form a crust, leaving a smaller amount of matter to continue the normal mental functions. But you would still be perfectly able to perform basic tasks, even so.¡±


    Nic was sorry he had asked.


    During this time, Dizzy kept her distance but Nic was aware of her observing him. It was pleasant to think she might have been admiring the change in him, physically, but whenever he caught her looking, the expression on her face didn¡¯t suggest admiration. Only a cold, contemptuous evaluation.


    When she did finally speak to him, she said, ¡°I¡¯ve noticed the change in your body.¡±


    ¡°Have you?¡± said Nic, his voice catching in his throat. They were in the library with the others all in attendance, Simole alongside Dizzy, an interested and smirking observer.


    ¡°You¡¯re stronger,¡± she said. ¡°And you move a lot better. I think you would do well in the school athletics team.¡±


    He would have been pleased but her tone was not congratulatory. It was more analytical, like she was judging a cow¡¯s health to get a better idea of the quality of its milk and the prospective condition of its meat once it had been slaughtered.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°I¡¯d like to fight you,¡± said Dizzy.


    ¡°Sorry, what?¡± said Nic.


    ¡°You against me, no weapons, to see how far you¡¯ve come. It would be a good test for you. If you can pin me to the ground, I think we can safely say you¡¯re ready.¡±


    Nic could feel his face heat up. He was getting that pain in his head, and he hadn¡¯t even been thinking about the map.


    ¡°What are you trying to do to the poor boy?¡± said Simole, highly amused. ¡°The thought of pinning you to the ground is probably enough to put him into a coma.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be so disgusting,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°It¡¯s not like he has any chance of winning.¡±


    ¡°No, it isn¡¯t that,¡± said Nic, doing his best to salvage what was left of his pride. ¡°I just don¡¯t think I¡¯m ready to fight anyone right now.¡±


    ¡°Why not?¡± said Dizzy. ¡°It would do you good, plus it would help me gauge where you are in your development.¡±If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    ¡°Sure, I mean, I¡¯m sure it would. But I haven¡¯t the right techniques for dealing with girls, I mean women, I mean people without groins.¡±


    Dizzy¡¯s face clouded over. ¡°You don¡¯t want to hit a girl?¡±


    Nic couldn¡¯t tell from her tone if she thought that good or bad, but he forged on.


    ¡°No, I would, I mean, if I had to, not generally speaking,¡± said Nic, desperately trying to stop his voice going high-pitched. ¡°It¡¯s got nothing to do with you being a girl. Simole¡¯s a girl, and she could easily kill me.¡±


    ¡°Correct,¡± said Simole. ¡°I¡¯ve even thought of a couple of interesting ways to do it.¡±


    ¡°And I couldn¡¯t kill you?¡± From the way Dizzy was looking at him, there was no need to answer the question.


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to fight anyone,¡± said Nic. ¡°But if I do, you¡¯ll be the first person I ask.¡±


    Dizzy continued to stare at him until it got very uncomfortable for Nic. Then she turned and walked away.


    Simole sighed. ¡°For future reference, when a girl asks you to wrestle with her, it means she likes you.¡± She walked off shaking her head.


    ¡°Or it means she¡¯s looking for an excuse to beat the stuffing out of you,¡± said Davo.


    ¡°Hng, mmm, I vote for answer B,¡± said Fanny, chewing on something while licking his fingertips.


    ¡°You know eating isn¡¯t allowed in the library?¡± said Davo.


    Fanny swallowed. ¡°I¡¯m not.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s right, you know,¡± said Davo, ¡°you have changed.¡±


    ¡°For the better?¡± asked Nic, hopeful of a more a supportive view from the boys, rather than the merciless critique he expected from Dizzy.


    ¡°If you like,¡± said Davo, which wasn¡¯t one thing or the other.


    ¡°I think you look a lot tougher,¡± said Fanny. ¡°More butch. You remind me of my sister.¡±


    ¡°Thanks,¡± said Nic, a little disappointed.


    ¡°What?¡± said Fanny. ¡°That¡¯s a good thing. She¡¯s a dragoon, you can¡¯t get tougher than them. Or she was one.¡±


    ¡°Still no joy from the beasts?¡± asked Brill.


    News of the plight of the dragons had started to spread. If people at school knew about it, there was more than a good chance Ranvar¡¯s enemies did also.


    ¡°No,¡± said Fanny. ¡°She says they just lie about looking depressed. Won¡¯t even eat.¡±


    ¡°What do they eat?¡± asked Brill.


    ¡°Fish, mostly,¡± said Fanny. ¡°And they like vegetables. Potatoes, especially.¡±


    ¡°Are you making that up?¡± asked Davo.


    ¡°No,¡± said Fanny defensively. ¡°That¡¯s what she said in her letter, anyway. Maybe it¡¯s misinformation to keep our enemies guessing. She knows I can¡¯t keep my mouth shut.¡±


    ¡°A dragonless army,¡± said Brill, tutting to himself. ¡°I never thought I¡¯d see the day. I wonder what¡¯s wrong with them.¡±


    Nic could have said something about the dragons but it wouldn¡¯t really clear anything up. He looked around pensively in case Dizzy decided to make her invite to a fight involuntary. Sneaking up behind him for a brutal ambush was the sort of thing she used to do to him when they were children. He wondered if he would be able to pin her down now. The thought made his face warm again.


    ¡°Where¡¯s your brother, by the way, Brill?¡± Nic asked as a way to distract himself. ¡°Haven¡¯t seen him around lately.¡±


    The atmosphere turned distinctly awkward.


    ¡°I don¡¯t have a brother. I¡¯m an only child.¡±


    They were all looking at him like he had something on his face.


    ¡°Hm? Oh, sorry. I don¡¯t know where that came from.¡± Nic smiled apologetically and received a few mildly concerned looks, but that was all.


    Was it that easy for a demon to insinuate itself into human life and then disappear without leaving even a memory? If they were that powerful, why bother with any of the subterfuge and intrigue? He still couldn¡¯t fathom their true intent. The only thing he was sure of was that the High-Father hadn¡¯t been truthful with him. Whatever he was really after, it wasn¡¯t merely observing humans at play.


    He did wonder where the demon who had been masquerading as Hewt was now. He hadn¡¯t paid it much mind since returning from the Librarium because it seemed like he would be left alone for a while. But now he was curious to know where it was, and as it happened, he had the perfect way to find out.


    Nic put down his pen and closed his eyes. He let his mind go blank and he could see the world beneath him. He swayed slightly but remained in his chair ¡ª he could just about detect its presence under him, even though all he could see were fields and forest from way up high.


    He focused on the school and felt a twinge in his temple. It was still hardest to close in on any place where he was present. The closer he came, the more painful it was. He would eventually like to find a way around that since being able to observe his immediate surroundings would be useful, especially when it came to avoiding any of Dizzy¡¯s surprise attacks.


    The problem with trying to locate the demon was knowing what to call it. He had already tried getting the map to show him all the demons in the world and had got no hits. When he tried to focus on the High-Father, again nothing, not even a suggestion he might be in the Librarium where Nic had spoken to him. Perhaps he wasn¡¯t there anymore. Or it could be he was able to prevent himself from being seen.


    The Hewt demon might also be able to avoid detection or it might be in a new body. Before Hewt, it had been Professor Veristotle, and before that, a girl called Junia. It could be anyone.


    But Nic had spent a long time with the demon when it lived in his head. Its real name might not be known to him but the connection he had with it could still bring him to its current location, he was fairly sure. The reason he believed this was because in those times when he was idly exploring the map, his thoughts would sometimes turn to Dizzy, and without having to name her, he would be drawn to her dorm bedroom. Only the sudden pain of nearing a place he himself was close to would wrench him away before he intruded on her.


    It wasn¡¯t intentional, although tempting, but it suggested a way to use the map that went beyond conscious instruction. He could think his way around it.


    Nic focused his mind on the demon, on its presence as he knew it ¡ª the voice in his head. Whatever form it took, the essence of it was the same. Where was it now?


    If his mind had been drawn to the school, it would have caused him pain but it would have confirmed it was still nearby. But that wasn¡¯t where he went. From high up, he rushed towards the capital, towards the Royal College.


    He hadn¡¯t meant to go so quickly, but the connection between them was strong and the map knew exactly who he wanted to see.


    Down to the towers, through one of the windows, into a room with ornate furniture and grand paintings on the walls. And Hewt, still a young boy, talking to the Archmage.


    Nic couldn¡¯t hear what they were saying from the other end of the long room, but he could simply drift closer, an eavesdropping ghost. But as he neared, the Archmage looked up, staring directly at him, confusion in his face.


    Nic opened his eyes, startled. Had the Archmage actually seen him or just sensed his presence? Either way, he would have to be more careful. Demons and mages didn¡¯t make the best targets for this power if they could sense him watching.


    In any case, he knew where the demon was now. What did it mean that it was talking with the Archmage? That they were working together?


    ¡°Are you alright?¡± said Davo. ¡°You look white as a sheet. Not one of Fanny¡¯s sheets, of course. They¡¯re far from white. More of a mottled grey.¡±


    ¡°I wash my sheets as often as you do,¡± said Fanny.


    ¡°It¡¯s the thread count,¡± said Davo. ¡°Anything under four hundred is strictly for savages.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think savages worry about the softness of their linen,¡± said Brill.


    ¡°My point exactly,¡± said Davo. ¡°Anyway, you¡¯re not feeling faint or anything, are you, Nic? All this running around can leave your blood a bit thin if you¡¯re not careful.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± chipped in Brill. ¡°Make you light-headed and imagine people have siblings who don¡¯t exist.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m fine, I was just thinking about something and startled myself.¡±


    ¡°It was her, wasn¡¯t it?¡± said Fanny. ¡°She even attacks you in your daydreams, I bet.¡±


    The other two nodded like this was the most feasible explanation, his own imagination too pedantic to do him any favours. Sadly, they weren¡¯t wrong.


    ¡°You should accept her challenge,¡± said Fanny. ¡°If you can beat her in a fair fight, she¡¯ll respect you.¡±


    ¡°A born romantic,¡± said Davo.


    ¡°She would though, wouldn¡¯t she?¡± insisted Fanny. ¡°She¡¯s that type. Win and die trying.¡±


    ¡°I think you mean, win or die trying,¡± said Davo.


    ¡°Do I?¡± said Fanny, looking up and to the right like the answer might be hiding there. ¡°Not sure if I do.¡±


    Nic¡¯s next lesson of the day was Military Strategy with Mr Varity. It was a lesson he looked forward to. He found it useful to compare the positioning of the various armies around the borders of Ranvar with the conventional reasons for such deployments explained in the lesson. Occasionally, he would ask questions to help him understand what was going on in the real world.


    ¡°The key to a successful revolution,¡± Mr Varity was saying in answer to just such a question, ¡°is the leader of the uprising. The right man, or woman, can make all the difference. Of course, their true purpose is rarely to see their people freed of tyranny or persecution or whatever, it is to place themselves in that position.¡±


    A hand went up in the packed class, the largest of the three Nic attended.


    ¡°If people know this,¡± asked Quin, the boy who had raised his hand, ¡°why do they still fall for it?¡±


    ¡°Ah, yes, the age-old question,¡± said Mr Varity. ¡°It¡¯s hard to say, but I would guess it¡¯s not so easy to see in the heat of the moment when the situation is desperate and any chance of victory seems acceptable. Afterwards, with hindsight and the true character of the de facto leader uncovered, it all seems glaringly obvious.¡±


    ¡°But every time?¡± asked Quin. ¡°It can¡¯t be that hard to spot a deceiver.¡±


    ¡°I think you¡¯ll find people don¡¯t spend much time in deliberation, they rush to judgement while they can. A mediocre strategy implemented quickly is always preferable to the ideal approach mobilised too late.¡±


    It was a similar point to the one the Secret Service agents had made to Nic. Doing nothing guaranteed failure. At least if you attempted something, you had a chance.


    Nic didn¡¯t really like that sort of thinking. He would much rather have a clear idea of what it was he was trying to do and then come up with what he considered the best solution. Charging forward with no appraisal of the situation felt like a very weak tactic. Luck might prove you right, but that was all you were depending on.


    What Nic was wondering was who was in charge of this rebellion? It had started in Gweur, with the demon at the heart of the initial uprising, a cult of ardent acolytes doing its bidding. Who was leading them now? And what did they really want? The destruction of Ranvar? The start of a new demon empire?


    Nic¡¯s instinct was to defend his home, despite being aware of the kind of place it was, and what crimes it had committed against its neighbours. The other thing a successful rebellion often required was the involvement of a foreign interest instigating discontent in the population. That was the approach Ranvar often took, quietly ensuring their new neighbours were more cooperative than the old.


    ¡°A pattern is often only visible after the event,¡± said Mr Varity. ¡°The same is true of people.¡±


    Nic agreed. The creature had called them high-functioning sociopaths. People who were willing to do whatever it took to get what they want. At the time, it might look like passion and conviction. Taking risks no one else dared to could easily be interpreted as bravery. It took a strong stomach to send others to their deaths. Except, of course, when it didn¡¯t.


    Nic was interested in knowing who was really in charge of the Gweur uprising. They might not be the tyrant in waiting he suspected. History did occasionally record a genuine hero who fought for justice and righteousness. They usually ended up dead soon after they accomplished the overthrow of the previous corrupt regime, just in time for the beginning of the next one.


    Could he just ask to be shown the current leader of the Gweurvian rebels? From his testing, the more familiar with a person he was, the easier it was to locate them. He didn¡¯t have to know them personally. He had used Prince Ranade as his test subject, someone who he knew a great deal about but had never met. He had been shown a large dining hall in the palace where the prince stared sorrowfully at a plate of salad.


    Nic waited until he was back in his room before trying. He didn¡¯t want to act odd in front of the others again. He closed his eyes and focused on the leader of the rebels. It was more of a concept than a person, but it was a very specific one.


    His primary suspect was the demon, but his vision did not go towards the capital. Instead, it focused on the school.


    It was painful to look here but he wanted to know. He had a fanciful thought that it was Dizzy. Simole often joked how she was his true opponent, the person he needed to defeat ¡ª what if she was right?


    But it wasn¡¯t the girls¡¯ dorm he was closing in on, it was the cottage he was in.


    The pain grew almost unbearable but he pushed on. Could it really be one of his friends? Were they part of some plot against him? He intensely disliked the thought, not helped by the agony tearing through his mind. Maybe this was what atrophy felt like. He ignored it. He had to know.


    His vision was blurred and he felt nauseous. He came through a window and saw himself.


    It didn¡¯t make sense. There was no one in the room but him.

 Book 2: Chapter Twenty Four

    Nic withstood the pain as long as he could, staring in through the window. Maybe there was someone else inside, someone who he couldn¡¯t see, the real leader of the Gweur uprising. It certainly wasn¡¯t him.


    He had asked to be shown something very specific and this was what it had led him to ¡ª himself. That didn¡¯t necessarily mean it was quite what it seemed. There was no way to know if his magical sight was that literal. In a roundabout way, the argument could be made that he was key to what had happened in Gweur. He was involved, certainly, although inadvertently. Maybe his actions in some way led to the overthrow of the Gweur regime.


    He tried to get closer to the window, maybe see if there was anyone to the side. Logically, the him in the room should have been able to see the person from where he was on the bed but it could be they were hidden and only the special sight afforded to him by his new ability could uncloak them.


    It was like pushing his face up against a wall of spikes, though, and eventually he was forced back to relieve the pain. It was still there but at least it was less now that he wasn¡¯t staring directly at himself. In fact, it was a little easier than it had been. Perhaps it took time to get used to the side-effects.


    The painful nature of staying close to his location had encouraged him to go off exploring, to soar across rolling plains, chasing the sun as it sank, dragging shadows with it over the rippling grasses, flying alongside birds, riding the currents and eddies with wild, chaotic swoops and dives, they and him both.


    It was addictive to simply spend time watching and taking it all in, and ignoring the pressing matters that he had convinced himself he had to be a part of. Or others had convinced him. Or he had convinced them.


    His head only hurt more when he tried to sort out the reasons behind his current predicament, outside his own window, looking in on himself.


    A noise behind him made him spin with swift inhuman speed. He turned just in time to catch some movement high in one of the trees near the small pond Simole had once sucked the life from and left a barren clump of dead plants. It had grown back and was as wild and insect-ridden as ever. Was Simole also back?


    Nic flowed closer with a thought. He could have asked to be shown Simole¡¯s position, but she might have been able to detect his presence the way her father had. Perhaps she already knew he was watching, but he would rather not draw attention to himself. He still wasn¡¯t sure how much he should involve her in whatever he¡¯d managed to get himself mixed up in.


    He was still curious, though. What was she up to? She was hardly one to spy on him when she could simply appear at the end of his bed at will and demand answers to questions she was far better informed about than he was.


    There were more movements among the branches and Nic slowly drifted closer. The only thing beyond the trees was open ground and then the wall surrounding the school. If Simole planned to go over it, she didn¡¯t need to climb a tree first.


    At the first sight of hair tied off in a ponytail, he knew it wasn¡¯t Simole. He could recognise Dizzy¡¯s hair anywhere, at any angle. What was she doing out here?


    His first guess would be keeping an eye on him, waiting to see what his next move would be and making sure she was involved. It was both a comforting thought and also a presumptuous one.


    She had certainly given him reason to think she intended to keep an eye on his activities, but spying on him through his bedroom window? It wasn¡¯t really her style.


    A little more confident that she wouldn¡¯t be able to sense his presence, Nic followed the movement in the branches to see what she was doing. He rose over the trees and down the other side. He thought he¡¯d lost her for a second, and then realised she was still in the tree behind him, straddling a branch and building some kind of structure.


    It looked like an observation post. Somewhere to watch from without being seen, somewhere to keep supplies so you could grab them at a moment¡¯s notice. But why out here? Who would she need to keep a lookout for?


    There was no indication she knew she was being watched. He had half-expected her to have an innate ability to know when eyes were on her, even when they weren¡¯t real eyes. Perhaps the bond between them would give her a special connection that prevented him hiding from her.


    It was a fanciful thought based on no evidence. She carried on working, silently strapping short planks to the branch. She worked incredibly quickly and without hesitation in the near-dark. Over and under and through a loop, a hand flashing behind her to grab something too quick for him to see.


    Nic found it even more fascinating to watch than his journeys across mountaintops and oceans.


    Within a few minutes, she had constructed a platform and attached a rope to it. He thought it was to let her climb up and down, but she hooked the other end of the rope to her belt as she stood on the edge like a diving board.


    Below her was the unforgiving ground, not a pool of water. If she planned to launch herself, assuming she had made the rope the right length, what would that achieve? It would put an enormous strain on her waist and on the branch, and probably break both.


    As he was wondering about the stability of her creation, she jumped head-first.


    Just as the rope went taught, she unclipped it from her belt and landed on the ground as casually as if she¡¯d stepped off the bottom rung of a ladder. She didn¡¯t pause to admire her perfect dismount, she rushed around, collecting more bits of wood. She put them in the bag strapped to her back and took out two thin daggers. Then she ran back to the tree and up it, poking the daggers in and out of the trunk like the claws of an arboreal animal. She was back up in a flash.


    She emptied the bag of the sticks she¡¯d collected and began working on them with another dagger. This one had a flat blade with a sharp edge. Occasionally, she looked up towards the school wall, the blade slashing away with practised speed.


    Nic hung there, watching. There was a sort of poetry to her movements, a relentless flow. She kept up a rhythm, only pausing to switch between sticks. She seemed to be preparing for something, but what? And how would sharp sticks help?


    ¡°I know you¡¯re there,¡± she said, not looking up.


    Nic froze even though he didn¡¯t have a body. He said nothing, not knowing if he even could in this state, but not wanting to even try in case she was bluffing. She turned her head and looked at him and then through him.


    ¡°I¡¯m not the one hiding.¡±


    Nic turned and saw Simole standing in the next tree, like a festive ornament, her clothing not the least bit suitable for climbing trees. He suspected she hadn¡¯t climbed up the way Dizzy had.


    ¡°Neither am I,¡± said Dizzy, looking back at her work.


    ¡°You can¡¯t protect him by yourself.¡±


    Dizzy stopped and let out a short sigh. ¡°I¡¯m not protecting him. I¡¯m protecting everyone but him.¡± She turned to look at Simole again. Nic felt like he should move to the side to let them see each other without getting in the way, but he wasn¡¯t really there.


    ¡°They¡¯re not coming for everyone else,¡± said Simole. ¡°I don¡¯t even think they¡¯re here to harm him, just to keep watch.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re wrong,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°You have no idea what they¡¯re capable of. Once they establish a base here, they can make a move any time they want. And even if they are only coming to keep watch, they don¡¯t belong to Carmine. They belonged to my father, and he wouldn¡¯t want them used like this.¡±


    ¡°I could help you,¡± said Simole.


    ¡°Like you helped at the Librarium?¡± said Dizzy, her voice taking on an edge sharper than the knife she held in her hand. She had at least half a dozen pointy sticks now.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what you mean,¡± said Simole. It was hard to see her clearly, but he could feel the smile as she spoke.


    ¡°You were the only one I didn¡¯t have my eye on. You stopped me, I¡¯m not sure how but it doesn¡¯t really matter. I¡¯m glad he¡¯s got you to help him, but the rest of the school isn¡¯t going to be so lucky. If they¡¯re sending shades to keep watch, they¡¯re expecting trouble. And when it comes, they¡¯ll treat the students as shields. Not the important ones ¡ª they¡¯ll make sure to move them first ¡ª but the rest of us. It¡¯ll be easier to stay alive without them around, trust me.¡±


    Nic wasn¡¯t really sure what she was talking about. He hadn¡¯t seen any sign of anyone trying to enter the school grounds. But then, he hadn¡¯t been keeping a very close watch on the area around him. He had spent most of his time travelling far and wide, avoiding his immediate surroundings, even though that was where he needed to be most vigilant.


    ¡°Alright,¡± said Simole. ¡°Have it your way. I think you¡¯re being very petty, though.¡±


    ¡°Petty? How am I¡ª¡±Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!


    ¡°You¡¯ve got company,¡± said Simole.


    Dizzy turned and crouched. She seemed like she would fall off the tiny platform ¡ª good thing she was attached to it by a rope. She was pulling things out of her backpack and inserting her sticks into them.


    Nic looked in the direction she appeared to be looking in. It was too dark to see much, but strangely darker in some spots.


    The darker areas were moving. They came over the walls and fell into the shadows, but he could see them, a black that went beyond the mere absence of light.


    Dizzy was leaning forward, right on the edge. She waited for the darkness to come gliding across the grass. And then she fell.


    There were three of them that Nic could make out. She had waited until the last of the three passed under her, confident they wouldn¡¯t look up. Then she pounced with the stick held out, the white tip suddenly flaring into a bright, incandescent flame that was blinding.


    It pierced the shade through the top of its head and it splintered into a thousand pieces.


    He body twisted and then she wasn¡¯t falling any more, she was swinging, with another stick in each hand, one for each target.


    She struck them both in the backs before they had a chance to turn or run, the white flares passing through them and extinguishing as they did. Her ability to know exactly where to be so she was outside their field of view was uncanny. Nic could see the angles clearly ¡ª the slightest shift and they would have spotted her.


    Both dark shapes fractured like tattered cloth being ripped apart.


    Dizzy unclipped herself and landed softly. ¡°Only three tonight.¡± She looked up to where Simole had been, but there was no one there. Nic hadn¡¯t noticed her leave, either. Dizzy smiled to herself. ¡°Just me, then.¡±


    It was a self-satisfied smirk, the kind he hadn¡¯t seen from her in a long time. He¡¯d forgotten what she looked like when she was pleased with herself and felt a twinge of guilt. He was probably the one who took that away from her.


    But more than that, he could see how well she accomplished her task while he struggled to even work out what it was he was supposed to be doing. He should have been aware of these things, sent from the Ministry of Instruction if they used to belong to her father. He hadn¡¯t because he¡¯d been wandering about, reluctant to endure the pain of observing himself. He needed to change that.


    He left Dizzy to her packing up and returned to his bedroom window. The moment he saw himself sitting on his bed, the pain returned. He ignored it and pushed on, through the glass.


    Everything went blurry. His head was filled with a thousand needles and he wanted to cry. Maybe he was crying, it was hard to see his own eyes with his vision so distorted.


    He still didn¡¯t know how he was meant to be the leader of the Gweur rebellion, but he would try to find the answer once he had taken control of this ability. The pain didn¡¯t subside and it was becoming harder and harder to crawl forward, but he refused to give in. What would happen if he passed out? It felt like he was about to find out.


    Something shoved Nic from behind. He lunged forward and smashed into himself, face to face.


    Nic¡¯s mind burst, or felt like it. The pain went away just when he thought he couldn¡¯t bear it any longer, leaving behind a sense of disorientation. He was still floating, but inside his own head. He could see through his own eyes, but also behind him and above. It was a very odd sensation.


    He could also see Simole, standing at the end of his bed. ¡°You alright? Nothing broken?¡± She looked like she was dancing.


    ¡°Awoo,¡± said Nic. His mouth was too soft and the wrong shape. No shape at all.


    ¡°That¡¯s what I thought. Looks like when there¡¯s no one else in your head, not even you like being in there.¡±


    Nic took a breath. At least he could still do that. Then he concentrated on making things stop wobbling. ¡°I¡¯m¡­ fine.¡± The words came out a little over-enunciated, but apart from that they were under his control once more.


    ¡°Bit of a party going on outside. You saw, did you?¡±


    Nic nodded. The room kept moving after his head had stopped. ¡°Who were they?¡±


    Simole shrugged. ¡°Arcanum shades. Not really very powerful, but sneaky. Don¡¯t like light very much, fall apart if you so much as wave a candle at them.¡±


    ¡°She seemed to think they were worse than that.¡± He was getting the hang of it now. He could see all of the room at the same time but the trick was to only focus on one bit at a time. Which wasn¡¯t ideal but it would get easier with practice, he assumed.


    ¡°Maybe she¡¯s right. At least she¡¯s got something to keep her occupied while you ignore her.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not ignoring her,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°Yes, I can see that. All eyes on the prize. Have you been keeping a watch on her anywhere else?¡± She cocked a suggestive eyebrow.


    ¡°No,¡± he said, a little too fiercely.


    ¡°Good. I share a room with her, wouldn¡¯t like to think you¡¯d been peeping without permission.¡± She smiled in a way that made Nic uncomfortable.


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t do that,¡± he said.


    ¡°And if I gave you permission?¡± She was grinning now, enjoying his discomfort.


    He closed his eyes and let go of the omnivision. His head reeled for a moment and then he felt himself again. When he opened his eyes, Simole was gone.


    Nic shakily got to his feet and stretched the way the Secret Service agents had taught him. He hadn¡¯t exerted his body at all but it still felt appropriate. As his body responded and his mind relaxed, he wondered how long Simole had been in his room.


    ***


    The first lesson the following morning was the Arts Course with Mr Periwinkle. Nic wanted to ask him about the change he had managed to enact with his vision. He was hoping it was the correct thing to have done. He hadn¡¯t tried again since then, deciding he should let his mind rest before stretching it in any more irregular directions.


    He had already been up a while, his training continuing as usual from just before dawn. The training felt a lot easier today, making him overconfident. The resulting fall from a high wall twisted his ankle, which was better than breaking it.


    The black-masked agent had manipulated his foot until it stopped hurting but he was still finding it hard to walk normally, like his brain expected it to hurt and refused to put the normal amount of weight on it.


    He limped into the class, last of the six students, to curious looks.


    ¡°I went running and tripped,¡± he said by way of explanation.


    ¡°Good thing no one was chasing you,¡± said Carol.


    ¡°A predator would have eaten you,¡± said Brill. ¡°A steady pace is better than a fast collapse.¡±


    Simole rolled her eyes. ¡°Not if you eat the predator first.¡±


    Nic caught Dizzy¡¯s eye as he passed her. She looked fresh and alert, despite her nocturnal activities. He must have given her a funny look because she was about to say something to him. And she never did that without provocation.


    Fortunately, Mr Periwinkle came in at that moment. ¡°Sorry, seems there¡¯s been a bit of a problem at the Royal College.¡± He was carrying a stack of books.


    Nic sat down, all ears. A problem at the Royal College could mean all sorts of things, but nothing good.


    Periwinkle put the books down on his desk with a thump. ¡°We were supposed to have a guest lecturer, a mage, you know, to answer some questions in the most vague and enigmatic ways possible, and then to demonstrate some rather intricate hand exercises for you to learn. But they can¡¯t spare anyone, so we¡¯ll have to learn them from this.¡± He held up a rather tatty textbook. ¡°Not the easiest way to learn, but the basics are pretty straightforward.¡± He wiggled his fingers at them.


    The door opened and two Secret Service agents ¡ª one green, one blue ¡ª came in. It was unusual to see them like this, even more so using a door the normal way.


    ¡°Excuse me,¡± said the blue-masked agent, ¡°we need to ask Miss Kettle to come with us.¡±


    Rumi stood up. ¡°Why? Where are we going?¡±


    ¡°Just a precaution, your ladyship. This way please.¡±


    ¡°We were told to also make you the same offer,¡± the green-masked agent said to Simole.


    You didn¡¯t refuse to do as asked by the Secret Service; not unless you wanted to be carried out unconscious. Or if you were Simole. She waved him away with a dismissive flick of her hand.


    Rumi packed her bag, gave the rest of the class a baffled look, and left with her escort.


    She wasn¡¯t the only one. It became apparent that all the children of nobility were being moved away from the school. Evacuated.


    It looked like Dizzy had been right. Something was about to happen, and they wanted to protect what was most precious to them. The less valued children would stay and continue with their education.


    Whatever the threat was, it wasn¡¯t imminent. They got to dinner without incident and while there was speculation about invading forces and enemy assassins, no one had any real idea what was going on. The suggestion that there was anyone capable enough and stupid enough to come this far within Ranvar¡¯s borders didn¡¯t seem feasible at all. Even with the dragons acting strange, there were still plenty of mages and a vast number of soldiers that would need to be overcome.


    It was seen as a precaution, just as the agents had suggested. It might be that there had been some plot to kidnap a prince or a ducal heir, and it had panicked the rest to quickly remove their children from harm¡¯s away, in the overprotective manner of parents with influence.


    Nic was curious to check on troop movements and went to bed early. No one was surprised considering how much running around he was doing these days. They all told him to go a little easier on himself and wished him goodnight and pleasant dreams.


    He lay in bed, allowing his mind to drift across Ranvar, checking the borders. There didn¡¯t seem to be any movement worth noting. The various troops were in the same positions where they were the previous nights, on either side of the borders.


    With no major threat looming, Nic¡¯s attention moved back to the school. Perhaps a smaller assault? If that were true, wouldn¡¯t they have arranged some defensive forces to be billeted nearby? There were the Secret Service agents, but they had been reduced in number, and if they were busy taking their young charges to safety, there might not be many left.


    Nic asked to be shown the agents on the school grounds and was surprised to find there weren¡¯t any.


    He searched for Dizzy, ready to call off the request if he started to head for her room in the female dorm. But he was left over his own residence, drifting towards the trees. Was she on her death-dive platform again?


    As he closed in on her position, he asked to see any approaching enemies. It was a bit of a vague request, but he wasn¡¯t sure how else to label the strange shadow creatures.


    Five lights lit up below him, within the school walls, headed towards Dizzy. They weren¡¯t shades, though, they were clearly people, moving very fast.


    She was on her perch, working away on some weapon made out of twigs and string, probably. She didn¡¯t seem to be at all aware of the people coming towards her, which was unusual for her. It took a moment for Nic to realise why.


    When he adjusted his perspective, he could see they were on a different level to the girl in the tree. They were much higher. They were flying.


    Nic took a closer look. He could make out a darker blot beneath each of them, like the shades, but much larger.


    He could only think of one thing that shape, but they weren¡¯t flying anymore. ¡°Show me dragons within the school grounds.¡±


    Each small dot of light that was flying towards Dizzy was engulfed by a much larger, brighter light in the shape of a dragon.

 Book 2: Chapter Twenty Five

    As far as Nic was aware, the only people who had dragons were his own ¡ª and they were stubbornly refusing to take to the air.


    It was difficult to see exactly who was flying these dragons from his lofty position high over the school. He recalibrated his vision to get a better look.


    They were above Dizzy, now. Curving their flight path, the five of them in a line that was turning into a circle, and then a spiral as the lead dragon began to descend. Were they here for her? For him?


    As he came down closer, he could see their distinct outlines, but while the riders were clear to Nic, dressed in heavy cloaks with hoods pulled over their heads and their feet sticking out on either side of the large beasts they straddled, the dragons themselves looked indistinct.


    Their outlines were easy to see, but there was no substance to them. No scaly skin, no membranous wings. They looked smokey and black. They looked like ink blots on wet paper, taking form the way clouds sometimes appeared to be very specific animals.


    Magic? Pretend dragons? But then, wasn¡¯t that what dragons were anyway?


    Whatever they were, Dizzy was beneath them and had no idea what she was about to face. He didn¡¯t know, either, but at least he knew the threat was imminent. Dizzy was probably watching the school wall for more shadowy minions, readying herself for more acrobatic attacks.


    He was tempted to just wait and see how she responded to the skydiving shadows approaching her. Adapting to a new opponent was the sort of thing she was good at, but this would be risking too much. If she failed to come up with an appropriate strategy, she might end up dead.


    That was assuming they were here as enemies, which wasn¡¯t certain. What was certain was that Dizzy would treat them as such and they probably wouldn¡¯t have any choice but to live up to her expectations. She had a way of bringing out the antagonistic side in people.


    But what were his options? Rush out there and save the day? How would he do that? And how angry would it make her?


    It was all very well being aware of the situation but that didn¡¯t really help much if all he was was a distant observer. This power he now had didn¡¯t allow him to interact with the things he could see.


    If he could just communicate with the people he watched¡­


    The Archmage had seemed aware of him, did that mean there was a way to reveal his presence intentionally? He dropped down to where Dizzy was busy in the same tree as the previous night.


    Dizzy? Can you hear me?


    There was no response. He felt foolish trying to contact her through his thoughts. And if she did hear him, then what?


    Look out! was hardly going to make a difference.


    No, it wasn¡¯t her he should be trying to contact.


    He rose again, towards the lead dragon as it glided with wings spread, the other four like shadows of shadows behind it.


    They looked like dragons ¡ª like the dragons in the service of the Ranvarian army ¡ª but they didn¡¯t move like them.


    Nic¡¯s experiences with dragons, and as a dragon, had given him a familiarity with their general physiology and movements. Dragons were rarely still, even when they weren¡¯t moving around. Their muscles seemed to be constantly rippling and shifting under their scales. Their wings adjusted and corrected for changes in the air. Their heads turned and tilted as they flew.


    These dragos were stiff and strangely inanimate, like a carved wooden toy with moving parts in the right places but not moving in a fluid manner.


    It was also odd how the riders weren¡¯t positioned on the longs necks like he¡¯d seen the dragoons positioned, but were on the backs of the dragons, halfway between head and tail, practically lying down. They gave the impression of being passenger more than pilot.


    Whatever these dragons were, could he interact with them? If they were some sort of magic creation and he was using some sort of magic, perhaps the two could meet somewhere in the middle.


    Nic focused on the lead dragon which was at about the height of the top of the tree now. Dizzy was bound to notice any second that she had company, and probably launch an ill-advised attack.


    STOP! he mentally yelled at the dragon, aiming for the spot between its eyes (or where he assumed the eyes would be if he could see them). It wasn¡¯t exactly a carefully-designed stratagem, but there weren¡¯t many books on how to handle this kind of situation.


    The dragon¡¯s head rose and twisted. It looked a little unnatural, like someone had tried to turn the head in a direction it hadn¡¯t been made to turn.


    The rest of the dragon¡¯s body buckled and the rider went from tightly holding on to wild panic as they desperately tried not to fall off. And then each of the dragons turned into mist and faded away, one after the other, as though each was the only link holding the next in line to this world. They disappeared as easily as smoke from a chimney shredded by a sharp breeze.


    The dragons might have vanished but their riders were still very much present, and falling. One after the other they dropped through the sky towards the tree. The tree Dizzy was in. At least their cries of terror would let her know she was about to have company. Five guests, but Nic felt confident she would be able to defend herself when she had her position secured while the new arrivals were going to be too busy trying to grab onto a branch on the way down.


    Her advantage might not last long, though. If they were able to conjure dragons, there was a good chance they had other tricks up their sleeves. What was needed now was a little assistance from someone who also had a sleeve full of tricks.


    Nic said Simole¡¯s name and focused on her current location. He suspected she wasn¡¯t far away, probably watching what was going on with an amused grin. But he was wrong.


    His sight flew up and across the school grounds, towards the girls¡¯ dormitory. Then it swooped towards a window, like a bird that had no concept of glass. Normally, Nic would turn away when his sight took him here but this time he allowed it to pass into the room. Dizzy wasn¡¯t there and Simole¡­ well, this was an emergency. If he caught her in a state of undress, he would have to accept the consequences.


    It occurred to him that those consequences might actually be more severe than anything the High-Father had in store for him and this was an extremely foolish idea, but by then he was already in the room.


    The lights were out but he could make out Simole in her bed, asleep. Even the most powerful mage needed to rest. Lucky for Nic¡¯s personal health but not very useful for Dizzy.


    If he had been able to have some influence over the dragons then it seemed possible he could in some way contact Simole.


    Simole, wake up. Wake up!


    She made some grumbling noises and then rolled over, still fast asleep.


    The sound of screams and shouting broke into his thoughts. Nic opened his eyes in his own bedroom. There seemed to be a fight going on outside his window and, by the sounds of it, Dizzy was involved ¡ª there was no one else Nic knew who roared with rage like that.


    Nic jumped off the bed and opened his bedroom door. Fanny appeared from his room, blinking the sleep out of his eyes.


    ¡°What¡¯s going on? Are we under attack?¡±


    ¡°Fanny,¡± said Nic, ¡°can you make some kind of disturbance that will attract the Secret Service agents on campus?¡±


    ¡°Um, yes, I think so,¡± said Fanny, confused and bleary-eyed. ¡°Not sure there¡¯s many left on the school grounds since they all ran off with the important kids. I haven¡¯t seen much activity from them lately.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s fine, I know there¡¯s at least two. Just do what you can. Make them think there¡¯s something crazy going on here.¡±


    ¡°What is going on?¡± said Fanny, a little more awake now.


    ¡°Something crazy,¡± said Nic. He ran across the hall and banged on Davo¡¯s door.


    ¡°What is it?¡± said Davo when he opened the door, looking uncharacteristically unkempt with is his usually-pristine lacquered hair flopping over his face.


    ¡°I need you to do me a favour. Go to the girls¡¯ dorm and get Simole.¡±


    ¡°The girls¡¯ dorm? At this time of night?¡±


    ¡°Sorry, it¡¯s important. Tell her Dizzy¡¯s fighting off five men by herself.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± said Davo.


    ¡°I¡¯ll explain later.¡± Nic rushed out of the building, running towards the tree all the noise was coming from, and nearly collided with a body as it fell.


    He jumped out of the way, his recent training coming in useful as he rolled and came up on his feet.


    The body was a man and still alive although he had landed without trying to protect himself from the fall with outstretched hands. Probably because his hands and feet were both tied. He groaned and squirmed on the ground.


    There were still sounds of fighting from above, although Nic couldn¡¯t see clearly through the leaves and branches.


    Another body fell and Nic jumped back. This one landed neatly on her feet, a stick in one hand and a looped rope in the other.


    ¡°What are you doing here?¡± said Dizzy, looking annoyed at being interrupted.


    ¡°I came to warn you,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°A bit late for that,¡± said Dizzy.


    ¡°And to help.¡±


    She looked at him with a frown. ¡°And a bit early for that.¡±


    Nic suddenly felt awkward and out of place. He had been in so much of a hurry to come to her rescue, he hadn¡¯t thought of what exactly he was going to do once he arrived. Now he just felt like he was in her way, another problem for her to deal with. The way she was looking at him only confirmed the feeling.


    ¡°They came here on dragons,¡± said Nic, wanting her to know he had helped.This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    ¡°What? Where?¡±


    ¡°You down there,¡± called a voice from the tree. ¡°We didn¡¯t come here to fight. There is no need for bloodshed.¡±


    The man on the ground moaned, possibly disagreeing.


    ¡°We did not mean to startle you, young lady.¡±


    ¡°Did you come by dragon?¡± Dizzy shouted back, doubt in her voice.


    There was a pause. ¡°Yes.¡± He sounded quite doubtful himself.


    ¡°Where are they?¡± asked Dizzy.


    ¡°I got rid of them,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°You got rid of dragons?¡±


    ¡°They weren¡¯t real dragons.¡± Downgrading his accomplishment seemed the easiest way to convince her he wasn¡¯t lying.


    ¡°You got rid of imaginary dragons?¡± said Dizzy, less incredulous, more unimpressed.


    ¡°We are here to make you an offer,¡± said the man in the tree.


    ¡°Who?¡± said Dizzy. ¡°Me or him?¡±


    ¡°Him.¡±


    Nic winced. She wasn¡¯t going to like that.


    ¡°Of course,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°And you are?¡±


    ¡°We,¡± said the voice rather grandly, ¡°represent the free people of Gweur.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°I see. And what about you?¡± she said to Nic. ¡°Turning traitor?¡± It was asked casually, like she wanted to know his plans for the weekend.


    Nic wasn¡¯t sure what his answer should be. Every answer felt like it had been guessed and a blistering riposte prepared, so he decided to ignore her.


    ¡°Who is your leader?¡± he said looking up at the branches. They were staying up there, presumably four grown men who didn¡¯t want to let Dizzy have a chance to do to them what she¡¯d done to number five.


    ¡°I am the leader. My name is¡ª¡±


    ¡°No, I mean your real leader. Who sent you here?¡±


    ¡°We do not have that kind of a leader. We consider no one to be our king or our better by blood.¡±


    The more pleased with himself the man sounded, the less convinced Nic was by his egalitarian proclamations.


    ¡°Is it a woman with blonde hair?¡± asked Nic. ¡°Or maybe a young boy of about twelve?¡± There was some muttering in the branches. ¡°Someone is guiding you. Someone is giving you dragons to fly you places. Who?¡±


    ¡°We have many¡ª¡±


    ¡°If you are not willing to be clear about who you are and what you represent, then I see no purpose in listening to you.¡± Nic looked across at Dizzy. She had her arms crossed and wasn¡¯t looking at him, but she didn¡¯t look quite so dismissive of him either. She may well have forgotten he existed and was working out the angles for a slingshot to the temple of one of the men he couldn¡¯t even see.


    ¡°The people who run your country,¡± said the man slowly like he was choosing his words carefully, ¡°they are not good people. They have terrorised and dominated innocents and honest folk who only wish is to be left in peace.¡±


    ¡°And you want to replace them,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°We wish them to be replaced, but it is up to the free people of Ranvar to decide with what. Not us. We have our own problems to worry about.¡±


    ¡°What makes you think the replacement will be any better?¡± asked Dizzy.


    ¡°It can¡¯t be any worse. And there won¡¯t be the dragons and magic to aid their tyranny.¡±


    ¡°Because they¡¯ll belong to you?¡± said Dizzy.


    A man jumped down from the lowest branch, landing not quite so elegantly as Dizzy had. He wore a long brown robe, simple and worn thin at the edges. He removed the hood to reveal typical Gweurvian features ¡ª curly hair, a wide nose ¡ª save for the glowing blue eyes.


    ¡°We are only in receipt of this power until our task is complete. We have no wish to control the destiny of others. We only ask if you wish to join us. If not, then we will be on our way.¡±


    ¡°By dragon?¡± asked Dizzy, eyes narrowed, mouth pinched, ready to catch a lie.


    Nic turned his head to look at the Gweur rebel. How would he handle this? Perhaps Nic could learn something from an outsider¡¯s perspective.


    ¡°Yes,¡± said the man. Behind him, three more similarly dressed Gweurvians climbed down from the tree. Two of them went to help the injured one, turning him face up. By the looks of it, the man had broken his fall with his nose, which was also broken, although it was hard to be sure with the flat noses they all had. The blood suggested his was now a little flatter. ¡°May I ask what you were doing in the tree?¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s protecting the school,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°From us?¡± asked the man.


    ¡°No,¡± said Dizzy, ¡°from them.¡± She pointed past the man but didn¡¯t look where her finger indicated.


    The man turned, which Nic thought was risky. It was the sort of move Dizzy would use quite happily against an opponent, even though it was a little cheap. Dizzy was of the mind that the more gullible and easily distracted you were, the more you deserved the beating that would correct your failing. But in this case, there actually was something to look at.


    From the shadows rose two figures. They were shades like the ones that had appeared last night, maybe the same ones. Now that Nic could see them with his own eyes, their indistinct inky blackness reminded him of something ¡ª the dragons he had just vanquished.


    ¡°Inform your master,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°Gwuer has sent a team here.¡±


    The two shades seemed like they were about to start moving, and then they were gone, nothing in between.


    ¡°Stop them,¡± said the leader to the others. The two who were administering to their fallen colleague left him and gave chase, running as far as where the shadows grew too dark to see much of anything, and then they too vanished.


    ¡°Will they catch them?¡± said Nic.


    ¡°Depends,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°We¡¯ll see how their new master has been teaching them.¡±


    ¡°Hmm,¡± said the man. ¡°That was unfortunate. Still, better to know than to not.¡±


    ¡°So,¡± said Dizzy, ¡°make your offer.¡± She lifted an arm in Nic¡¯s direction like she was offering him up. She reminded Nic of the brokers at livestock sales who made deals on behalf of farmers, selling to butchers. ¡°You don¡¯t have much time.¡±


    Her manner was so casual, Nic felt like there was no great danger to him while she was here.


    ¡°We would like you to come with us,¡± said the man. ¡°To help us, if you wish. To not help those who would hurt us by not giving them access to the power you now possess.¡±


    Nic could feel Dizzy¡¯s eyes on him now.


    ¡°How do you know about that?¡± he asked.


    ¡°You have a new power, do you?¡± Dizzy asked, not caring about Nic¡¯s line of questioning. ¡°When did this happen?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not really a power,¡± said Nic, feeling uncomfortable even as he tried his hardest not to appear so. ¡°It¡¯s more like access to reference material.¡±


    ¡°I see,¡± said Dizzy.


    ¡°How we know is not important,¡± said the man, his tone suggesting he was quite keen to be part of the dialogue.


    ¡°But it is,¡± said Nic, also quite keen he be in the dialogue. ¡°Whoever told you is using you for their own ends. If you refuse to believe that, you will only make it easier for them.¡±


    ¡°Must be quite some reference material if they sent men on dragons to fetch you,¡± said Dizzy, the casualness of her tone no longer making Nic feel safe.


    ¡°Not real dragons,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to help us, you don¡¯t have to help anyone. We will abide by your decision. We only make the offer. We know you have a good heart and a sharp mind.¡±


    ¡°Where did you hear that?¡± asked Dizzy.


    ¡°What say you? Will you come and discuss the matter with us? Will you at least see the people, the men, women and children, who your military is preparing to wipe out?¡±


    ¡°Will you, Nic?¡± asked Dizzy.


    ¡°Um, no,¡± said Nic. ¡°I will stay here and make my choices as they are presented to me.¡±


    ¡°Very well. I accept your decision. But we cannot leave you here,¡± said the man with a sorrowful shake of his head. ¡°They will abuse your gift and use it against us, whether you wish it or not. That is the Ranvar way.¡±


    Nic knew that he was right, that was the Ranvar way, but he would rather that than to be carted off and kept as a guest of a foreign power. At least he was familiar with his own people¡¯s unpleasant tendencies and had a chance to use his knowledge to stay out of their reach. After all, it had worked fairly well so far.


    ¡°Nice offer,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°Come with us if you want, but if you don¡¯t, then come with us. I can see you are students of the Ranvar way, too.¡±


    ¡°We mean what we say,¡± said the man. ¡°We won¡¯t force you to help us, but we can¡¯t allow you to help our enemy, either.¡± He seemed genuinely apologetic.


    ¡°That¡¯s enough.¡± Beside Nic, two men appeared from nowhere, one with a black mask, one with a white. ¡°Surrender yourselves or¡ª¡±


    The two Gweurvians raised a hand each and a powerful wave of force washed over Nic. He felt it pass him on either side as the agents were knocked off their feet and sent flying. They landed far back and didn¡¯t get up.


    It had seemed effortless and well-practised. They had been ready, maybe even expectant.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry about this,¡± said the man. He and the rebel standing just behind him both raised their arms to the sky, their eyes glowing brighter blue.


    Above them there was movement. Nic looked up as five dragon-shaped shadows took form, only really visible because of the starlight they blocked out; starless blackness with wings, like reverse constellations.


    The rebel who had been left on the ground suddenly sat up. ¡°She is coming.¡±


    It was an old refrain Nic had heard many times before, but this time it felt a lot more imminent. Immediate, in fact.


    ¡°Who,¡± said Simole, ¡°sent Davo to wake me up?¡± She didn¡¯t look very happy.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± said Nic. ¡°It was an emergency.¡±


    ¡°He barged into my bedroom,¡± said Simole, ignoring the two men and their five shadow dragons. ¡°What if I¡¯d been sleeping naked?¡±


    ¡°You had that green nightshirt on,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°And how do you know that?¡± asked Simole.


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Dizzy, ¡°how do you know that?¡±


    Nic took a step back and looked to the Gweurvians for help. ¡°Don¡¯t you want to attack or something?¡±


    Simole looked up. ¡°What are those supposed to be made of? Candy floss?¡±


    The five dragons seemed to float together, merging like clouds blown into each other¡¯s paths. And then there was one enormous dragon in the sky.


    It dived, mouth open in a silent scream, straight at Simole.


    She seemed frozen in place. Was she unconcerned? Did she think it was harmless?


    Nic looked at the dragon falling like a spear. It was bigger than even the High-Father when he¡¯d been a dragon. Something about it, though¡­


    Nic closed his eyes and he was above the dragon looking down. From here, he could see something else, something inside the dragons ghostly body, burning with a blue intensity that could only be Arcanum.


    Nic view dropped, down towards his own body. The pain of it was still hard to bear but the speed of his approaching self was like a quick, sharp incision, one you don¡¯t even feel until after it is done.


    Looking up from his own eyes while still being able to see in all directions, his mind folding in on itself, he saw the Arcanum clearly. It was long and thin, shaped like an arrow with a deadly point.


    ¡°No,¡± said Nic, not shouting, a simple statement. He stepped in front of Simole and reached out his hand, putting it into the dragon¡¯s open maw as it descended and grabbed the Arcanum by the tip.


    The dragon passed through him, through Simole, and broke against the ground like pipe smoke hitting a tavern ceiling.


    In Nic¡¯s hand was a shard of pure Arcanum. It burned and turned his hand purple. His whole arm. His neck. His¡­


    He let it go and collapsed.


    When he regained consciousness, his head was resting on something very soft and comfortable. It also smelled good. Familiar.


    ¡°Don¡¯t pretend you don¡¯t know what your head is on,¡± said Simole¡¯s voice.


    Nic opened his eyes and looked up at Dizzy¡¯s irritated face. She was holding his head in her arms, resting it against her chest. He was too scared to move in case he rubbed against something he shouldn¡¯t, but if he stayed where he was it would seem deliberate.


    ¡°He¡¯s fine,¡± said Dizzy, letting him go and standing up. His head bounced off her knee and then hit the ground with a dull thunk.


    Nic sat up. The two Secret Service agents were approaching, looking a little shaken. There was no sign of the Gweurvians.


    ¡°What happened?¡± asked Nic.


    ¡°You saved me,¡± said Simole, not sounding particularly grateful. ¡°Like a hero. No, sorry, I mean like an idiot. You could have died.¡±


    ¡°You could have died,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°I doubt it,¡± said Simole. ¡°It was just a lump of Arcanum. Mildly toxic at best. You just happen to have built up a tolerance to the stuff, so it affects you less than most people. But thanks, anyway. Would have been annoying to stay in bed for a few months.¡±


    ¡°But what happened to them?¡± He pointed to the tree where the Gweurvians had been.


    ¡°They disappeared when you fainted,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°Vanished in a blue flash.¡±


    Nic nodded. ¡°I¡¯ve seen them do that before, in emergencies. I don¡¯t think it¡¯s very good for their health.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m going back to bed,¡± said Simole. She gave Nic a sharp look, a warning not to send anyone to disturb her.


    ¡°I think you better come with us and answer a few questions,¡± said the black-masked agent.


    ¡°No,¡± said Nic. ¡°I think I need to get some sleep, too. I¡¯d like to skip training today, if you don¡¯t mind.¡± The two agents seemed taken aback at being refused so easily.


    Nic took the time to close his eyes and check the world for Gweurvians. As he had suspected, there were quite a few who were no longer in Gweur.


    ¡°You should contact your Chief of Staff and tell him the Gweur rebels have entered Ranvar from the east.¡±


    ¡°The east?¡± said White. ¡°How did they get over there?¡±


    ¡°Dragons,¡± said Nic. ¡°They have lots and lots of dragons.¡±

 One week break

    Not posting today. Decided to take a break over the holiday weekend and give my brain a rest. Been a bit intense lately with all the stories I''m wriitng (three at the same time, in case you were wondring) and this is the most mentally exhausting so a break will help stop the standard falling (I hope). Much big stuff about to happen to Nic, so quick pause to prepare for the second half of this book.Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    Thanks for understanding and see you in a week.


    Don''t forget to check out my other stories while you wait and also all the stuff on my site (MoodyLit.com).

 Book 2: Chapter Twenty Six

    Rutga stood on the battlements of Fort Neera, stiff and cold. The wind up here was chilly and cut through the gaps in his armour much more proficiently than any blade ever could. He stamped his feet to stop them going numb. Thicker socks would have been welcome, but Rutga¡¯s feet had a tendency to become swollen at night for some inexplicable reason. He could barely get his boots on as it was.


    A sign of old age? Did body parts get bigger as you got older? His grandfather used to have unnaturally large ear lobes, he remembered, although he had assumed that was just because the rest of him was shrinking.


    The treetops swished from side to side and above them, the stars shone and twinkled. He had slept beneath many different skies, but the stars over Ranvar always seemed to him to be the most glorious. His opinion was biased, of course.


    The moon was nearly full, giving an excellent view of the forest and the stars and beyond. He was the sole watch in a remote outpost with a garrison of six and the nearest town an hour¡¯s ride away. It felt like the end of the world.


    The late watch was everyone¡¯s least favourite duty, but Rutga found it refreshing. To stand at the edge of the kingdom, looking out at the trees that formed a natural border with the small but intensely proud nation of Jaminikan. It made Rutga feel like the protector he¡¯d signed up to be.


    All the fighting and killing he¡¯d done in the name of Ranvar, that had been a necessity, but he preferred to think of himself as a guardian, defending his family and of all the other families living under the Ranvarian flag, rather than someone who killed to order.


    In truth, the people of Jaminikan were unlikely to cause Ranvar any trouble, but their intentions and his duty were not intended to mirror one another. He would stand on the wall whether there was a threat or not, whether it was night or day, cold or hot. Such was a soldier¡¯s lot, to serve, to be sacrificed if required.


    ¡°Hey there, you look like you¡¯re freezing your balls off.¡±


    Rutga turned to see Private Mershwin approaching, carrying a mug of something steaming.


    ¡°Thought you could do with a hot drink.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not so cold,¡± said Rutga. A sharp breezed whipped in between them, instantly drawing moisture to the tip of Rutga¡¯s nose. He wiped it with the back of his gloved hand.


    ¡°You¡¯re a sturdier man than me, then,¡± said Mershwin. ¡°Have this, anyway. No point me carrying it back down.¡± He held out the mug.


    Strictly speaking, it was against regulations. You weren¡¯t supposed to eat or drink on duty, you were supposed to keep a constant lookout for the enemy. Vigilance did not take a break for beverages. But the fort was far from a place of danger and imminent attack. The whole western border of Ranvar was lined with timid nations falling over themselves to maintain good relations with their bigger, more powerful neighbour. Being stationed in any of the western border forts was considered a very comfortable assignment. It made no sense to be overzealous about the job when there was no call for it. The need to act would come soon enough.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± said Rutga, taking the drink. The heat from the mug immediately warmed his hands. He took a sip. Blackberry cordial. ¡°Very nice.¡±


    Mershwin smiled like he¡¯d successfully completed his mission. He was a young man keen to make a good impression. Rutga had probably been the same at his age. It hadn¡¯t really helped ¡ª you got the job you were best qualified for. That was why the Ranvar army was so much better than its neighbours¡¯ troops. That and the dragons.


    ¡°I know it¡¯s sort of against the rules,¡± said Mershwin, ¡°but the commander doesn¡¯t really mind as long we don¡¯t overdo these things. We¡¯re a pretty tight-knit bunch here, I think you¡¯ll find. Like to keep an eye out for each other.¡± He smiled and looked up at the sky, stretching his young back that probably didn¡¯t need it. ¡°Where you posted before? Up in the mountains, wasn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± said Rutga.


    ¡°Even colder there, I bet.¡±


    ¡°True, but you get used to it.¡±


    ¡°We all thought it was rather odd they only transferred a single man, but I suppose you put in a request, did you?¡±


    The boy was a bit nosy, but harmless. ¡°No, they needed me and some others to do a job. Once the work was complete, they sent us off where we were needed. I was hoping for somewhere a bit warmer, I have to admit.¡±


    Rutga took another sip. The drink was rapidly losing heat to the night air. A little alcohol would have added more of a kick, but Private Mershwin was a considerate rule-breaker; a little over the line was okay but no more. Fortunately, the rest of the garrison weren¡¯t quite so straight-laced or his job would be that much harder.


    Mershwin laughed. ¡°Well, it¡¯s not so bad in the summer. Not much to do, though. It¡¯s only a matter of time before we get called up to the Eastern Front with this Gweur thing going on.¡±


    ¡°Gweur thing?¡± said Rutga.


    ¡°You know, all this unrest and what have you. They say the eastern nations are preparing to attack, some sort of coordinated plan. I don¡¯t see them getting very far, but they¡¯ll probably outnumber us if they really are working together. And it¡¯s not like we¡¯re much use out here. Not exactly busy fighting off invaders.¡± Mershwin snorted and his shoulders shook with good humour. The boy was actually keen to join in the coming fight. He would probably change his tune once he saw a few friends lose their lives.


    Rutga drained the mug, the last dregs cold as they entered his mouth, and handed the mug back. ¡°You could be right, but I don¡¯t think it would be wise to leave these borders unprotected.¡±


    ¡°You think the Jaminis would try something?¡± Mershwin pulled a face suggesting he thought it unlikely. ¡°They¡¯re not bad people, you know. Not violence in them.¡±


    ¡°Everyone has violence in them,¡± said Rutga, ¡°under the right circumstances. An open border might tempt them, or at least some of them. Young men have a tendency to feel aggrieved no matter what society they are brought up in. Old men, too, in some cases. Just because they accept their position now, doesn¡¯t mean they aren¡¯t ready to exploit a chance to improve their standing.¡±


    Mershwin nodded thoughtfully. ¡°I guess you¡¯re right. No point taking too many risks. And it¡¯s not like we¡¯re going to lose, even without the dragons.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean, without the dragons?¡± said Rutga, the word catching his ear. He looked up at the sky warily.


    ¡°You must have heard, about the dragons refusing to fly? No?¡±


    ¡°The dragons aren¡¯t refusing to fly,¡± said Rutga. He had only recently returned to Ranvar and had been immediately posted here. What news he had heard had been mostly gossip and conjecture. This was the first he was hearing about non-compliant dragons.


    Mershwin leaned closer and lowered his voice. ¡°I saw a report on Commander Lefwas¡¯ desk. I know I shouldn¡¯t have, but it was open and it didn¡¯t look very secret or anything. It definitely said all dragons were grounded until further notice.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think that can be true,¡± said Rutga. ¡°What about those?¡±


    He pointed at the moon. A silhouette that was very clearly of a dragon was flying across it.


    ¡°Oh my,¡± said Mershwin, looking up, his eyes shining in the moonlight, a delighted smile on his face. ¡°Oh yes. I¡¯ve never seen one flying at night before. So beautiful. I wonder where it¡¯s¡ª¡±


    Rutga slipped the blade of his dagger between the vertebrae in the back of Mershwin¡¯s neck and up into his skull, while placing his hand over the boy¡¯s mouth. He gently lowered his limp body to the ground.


    When his instructor had explained to him why he was so well-suited to the role of assassin, Rutga had tried to refuse the job. Just because he had the requisite skill and ability didn¡¯t mean he relished the idea of taking another person¡¯s life. On the battlefield was one thing, but to hunt someone and take them unawares¡­ it took a certain kind of man to do that sort of thing.


    Personally, he had hoped for something in the frontline where he could stand shoulder to shoulder with his fellow Ranvarians, forming a wall against the threats to the Ranvarian way of life.


    His first assignment had been in a support role, little more than a delivery boy providing supplies for a small team sent to take care of a minor nobleman who was about to become a lot more powerful after the death of his ailing father. The son was erratic and full of rebelliousness, which was only natural for his age, but a concern for the stability of the region.


    The primary team became compromised, the mage with them foolishly getting involved with one of the court ladies, and Rutga had stepped in to complete the job. It had been more luck than anything, but Rutga was good at spotting an opportunity when he saw one. That was his talent.


    He did too good a job and was quickly enrolled as a full-time solo operative, a very vaunted position, at least within military circles. When he tried to refuse the assignment on the grounds that he didn¡¯t enjoy taking lives, he was told that if only people who enjoyed murder were tasked with the job, there¡¯d only be the insane and the cruel to choose from, and no army would want to rely on people like that. It did make a kind of sense.


    Rutga left the body on the battlements and looked up as dragons swept across the sky, six in formation. They hardly looked real, more like clouds crossing the moon. The other men would mostly be in a stupor by now, the ale and beer spiked with a strong sleeping agent. The few left awake would be easy enough to dispatch. It wasn¡¯t something he would enjoy, but their sacrifice would serve Ranvar in the end.


    He headed into the fort where it was at least a little warmer.


    ***


    Prince Ranade sat at the head of a long table feeling disturbed by current events. His ministers were seated on opposite sides of the table, forming a gauntlet of bad news. Usually, at these sorts of meetings, he would let them bicker among themselves and wait for an impression to form about what the real issues were and what was merely the normal humdrum preoccupation of each man.


    They all had their own agendas which they were constantly trying to advance, sneaking in proposals in between the main discussion, as was to be expected. But not this time. There was only one topic to be discussed.


    ¡°We should attack them immediately and with our full force,¡± said War Minister Reshvay. ¡°Crush them and give these other ingrates an idea of what they can expect.¡± The long whiskers of his moustache trembled with indignation.


    ¡°You forget we have no dragons to provide air support,¡± said Foreign Minister Kuplas.


    ¡°I forget nothing,¡± Reshvay blasted back. ¡°We don¡¯t need air support to deal with these peasant upstarts. Farmers and labourers, that¡¯s all they are. Untrained, undisciplined. We¡¯ll cut right through them. One of our men is worth a dozen of theirs.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯ve been known to use magic,¡± said the Chief of Staff of the Secret Service, his golden mask in place. ¡°I assume you haven¡¯t forgotten that, also.¡±


    ¡°Of course I haven¡¯t,¡± said Reshvay. ¡°That¡¯s what we have mages for, isn¡¯t it? Don¡¯t tell me you think these hoodlums using wild Arcanum can stand toe to toe with our mages. What do you think the Royal College has been doing all these years? We¡¯ll annihilate them!¡± He slammed his fist on the table, making the small plates rattle.


    ¡°I am reluctant to use the mages unless there is no other option,¡± said Prince Ranade. All eyes turned to him.


    It had been his wife who told him his legacy would be that of a great monarch who presided over the peaceful expansion of Ranvar¡¯s influence. He had believed her. Things had been going so well, negotiations working much better than the covert shenanigans his father had favoured, mutual advantage forging stronger ties and closer alliances. Or so he thought.


    His wife even told him they would erect a statue of him and it was important he look after his health. A fat statue would not be the legacy he wished to leave, would it?


    Salads, the price of immortality.


    Now, however, it seemed his legacy would be something entirely different. Everything was going wrong. Gweur was leading a revolt that was spreading, the dragons were unresponsive, demons were returning for the first time in millennia, and the mages¡­ the mages were of questionable loyalty.


    ¡°You don¡¯t trust the Archmage, my liege?¡± asked Kuplas.


    ¡°It is not a matter of trust,¡± said the prince. ¡°Whatever is happening to the dragons is connected to Arcanum, which means it is connected to the mages. The Archmage may himself not be aware of exactly what is happening here. Putting the mages in front of this new magic¡­ it may be what our opponents want us to do.¡±


    ¡°If I may,¡± said a voice from the far end of the table, ¡°I agree with His Majesty.¡±


    Heads turned towards the speaker, Mol Carmine, Acting-Minister of Instruction.


    ¡°Continue,¡± said Prince Ranade.


    ¡°From the information I¡¯ve been able to gather,¡± continued Carmine, ¡°much of what we¡¯re seeing has been arranged very carefully and our response has been predicted and prepared for.¡±


    ¡°Such as the alliances formed between what we had believed to be rival nations?¡± asked Minister for the Interior Bol.


    ¡°Yes, I believe so,¡± said Carmine.


    ¡°And how is it we weren¡¯t aware of these coalitions?¡± asked Minister Reshvay. ¡°Did they suddenly spring up out of nowhere? Isn¡¯t it your job to be aware of such realignments, acting-minister?¡±


    ¡°Be reasonable, Reshvay,¡± said Kuplas. ¡°It¡¯s hardly his fault, the man¡¯s only been in the job a few weeks. If anyone dropped the ball here, it would be his predecessor.¡±


    Reshvay made a harrumphing sound which set his moustache quivering again. ¡°There were many aspects of Delcroix¡¯s methods I might take issue with, but it would never cross my mind to question his diligence when it came to matters such as these. If it had happened on his watch, he would have been aware of it. I can only surmise these are recent events.¡±The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    ¡°Or very old ones,¡± said Carmine, which drew the attention back to him. ¡°If we know anything about the demons¡¯ methods, it¡¯s that they operate on a completely different time scale to us. A few thousand years means nothing to them. I can fully believe that whatever we¡¯re seeing now is the culmination of plans laid long ago, slowly coming to fruition in tiny increments. Such is their way. We may not have been aware of it because it was already arranged by the time we thought to look for signs of collusion.¡±


    Carmine had everyone¡¯s full attention now. He seemed very comfortable holding court, the prince noted. A young man rising to the occasion, or another ambitious whelp hoping to jump the line?


    ¡°It would be foolish to be overconfident about our ability to handle these farmers and labourers,¡± continued Carmine. ¡°If, as I suspect, they have been intentionally portrayed as mere yokels, it would indicate that they wish to lull us into a false sense of security. By studying us over the centuries, perhaps even encouraging us to be confident in our superiority, they will be fully aware of our tactics and methods. As His Majesty has suggested, bringing the Archmage and the other mages of the Royal College into the fight may well be part of this long-gestating plan. If the demons are behind the insurrection we are seeing ¡ª and I strongly believe that to be the case ¡ª then, they would need a way to deal with the mages. And from what I¡¯ve seen of their work, they would be much more inclined to somehow use the mages for their own benefit rather than consider them as opponents to be defeated.


    There was a long pause as the table considered this.


    ¡°Weren¡¯t you supposed to deal with this by removing the key players in the Gweur uprising?¡± asked Reshvay.


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Carmine. ¡°But I realised I was being manoeuvred into a trap, just as we may be now, and aborted the mission. If they were expecting us to mount a covert operation, they may have used it to embolden their followers and those not quite convinced. Exposing us as the terrible tyrants willing to take lives without remorse, and so on.¡±


    ¡°And what gave you this insight into the demons¡¯ plans?¡± asked Reshvay. ¡°I don¡¯t recall seeing any of this in your reports. Have you been withholding information from us?¡±


    ¡°Not at all,¡± said Carmine. ¡°I was actually fully-intending to carry out my mission as discussed, but a chance conversation made me realise the strategy being employed against us. It was similar to the one used by King Carthenon during the¡ª¡±


    ¡°Yes, yes,¡± said Reshvay impatiently. ¡°We don¡¯t need a history lesson. I¡¯m more interested in who this genius was you spoke to. Someone in your department? A sharp young mind I should be aware of?¡±


    For all his flap and bluster, Reshvay had an astute mind and an eye for inconsistencies. It was what made him an excellent battle commander, one of the best Ranvar had ever had. If he felt there was something that needed ferreting out, he was probably right, even if it made Carmine feel uncomfortable. Carmine feeling uncomfortable was actually a good indicator that Reshvay was indeed onto something.


    ¡°No, no, nothing like that,¡± said Carmine. ¡°As it happens, it was the boy.¡±


    ¡°The boy?¡± said Reshvay. ¡°Which boy? Your boy? You have a boy?¡±


    ¡°The Tutt boy,¡± said Carmine, his lips spreading into a thin smile that seemed to cause him pain.


    ¡°When did you speak to him?¡± said Kuplas, his interest also piqued by who Carmine had advising him.


    ¡°No, no, you misunderstand. I was visiting a friend ¡ª my predecessor¡¯s daughter, actually, to offer my condolences ¡ª and he happened to be there. It was a passing remark he made, about one of his lessons, I think, and it sparked the thought in my head, that was all. Completely coincidental.¡±


    ¡°And what did you make of young master Tutt?¡± asked Prince Ranade.


    ¡°Your Majesty? I¡¯m not sure what you mean.¡±


    ¡°How did he strike you? I would appreciate your appraisal of the young man who seems to always be at the centre of recent events.¡±


    ¡°Well, if I may, I don¡¯t really have very much to say on the subject. He seems bright and, to be perfectly frank, quite normal.¡±


    ¡°He can hardly be that, can he?¡± said Reshvay, practically spitting the words out. ¡°Nobody normal would find themselves in the predicaments the boy has, let alone come out of them unscathed.¡±


    ¡°That is true,¡± said Carmine, ¡°although it could be down to blind luck, or someone else manipulating the situation to make him appear to be a key element when he is only meant to serve as a distraction, it is hard to know. I had thought of bringing him in for a chat since, as Your Majesty says, he seems to be in the middle of things. A more thorough interrogation might yield more definitive answers.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said Prince Ranade.


    ¡°Your Majesty?¡±


    ¡°You will not in any shape or form bother the boy.¡±


    ¡°As you wish,¡± said Carmine, bowing his head. ¡°May I know why?¡±


    ¡°The van Dastan girl, the Archmage¡¯s daughter. I gave her my word he would not be interfered with. If the Archmage does become a problem, she is the only one who can stand against him, certainly the only one he wouldn¡¯t raise his hand to. She is a spirited child and very temperamental. She seems to have taken a liking to the boy, which is perfectly natural, and would be very upset if any of you began poking around as I know you are wont to do. He is to be left unmolested, do I make myself clear?¡±


    There was a general murmur of acquiescence to his command. It appeared Carmine hadn¡¯t been the only one with designs on Mr Tutt. The prince was tempted to summon the boy himself, just to see what all the fuss was about.


    ¡°Under no circumstances, not even an emergency. He is not to be troubled.¡± More noises of begrudging acquiescence. Sometimes it was necessary to issue an unambiguous edict so no mistakes were made. Emergencies could be manufactured as required by these men. ¡°Now, as for the matter of these rebels.¡± There was some noise behind the prince. He stopped speaking and waited, knowing he was about to be interrupted.


    A few seconds later, his aide, Monforth, appeared beside him and began whispering in his ear.


    ¡°Your Majesty, there has been some sort of attack at the border, details aren¡¯t clear, but I think it would be wise if we moved you¡ª¡±


    Prince Ranade raised a hand to silence him. He could already see the flurry of activity around the Chief as his agents blurred in an out of place beside him, giving him a rapid briefing on the matter


    For the average person, all they would see was a slight mist around the Chief, as though the fireplace chimney had become a little blocked and some smoke was filling the room. But the people in this room were not average and had the ability to make out the barely tangible agents moving around the chief ¡ª able to interact with him but not the rest of the room ¡ª bowing to speak in his ear, turning their masked faces to hear his instructions.


    The Chief¡¯s golden mask remained as implacable as always, but the prince sensed a tightening of the features beneath it.


    ¡°Chief?¡± said the prince.


    The Chief of Staff stood up, waving away the smoke around him. He took off his mask, his face and whole demeanour instantly returning to his natural age. ¡°Your Majesty, there has been a report of dragons crossing the western border.¡±


    There was a ripple of alarmed murmurs around the table.


    ¡°Flying?¡± said the prince.


    ¡°Yes, my liege.¡±


    ¡°Where were they going?¡±


    ¡°No, sire. They weren¡¯t leaving, they were entering our territory. These are not our dragons.¡±


    ¡°Are you saying they are enemy dragons?¡± said War Minister Reshvay.


    ¡°Yes. We believe the Gweur rebels are behind this.¡±


    ¡°Gweur?¡± said Foreign Minister Kuolas. ¡°You said the western border.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said the Chief. ¡°The Gweur influence has spread further than we had thought.¡±


    ¡°And you¡¯re sure about this?¡± asked Prince Ranade. ¡°All the western forts have reported the same?¡±


    ¡°This isn¡¯t a report from the defensive line,¡± said the Chief. ¡°This came from my agents posted at the Ransom School.¡± More shocked murmuring. ¡°It was confirmed by sightings made by my agents in the field. They were seen heading towards the capital, at least a dozen.¡±


    ¡°The school?¡± said Carmine. ¡°What has the school to do with this?¡±


    The Chief turned to face the acting-minister. ¡°It was the Tutt boy. He alerted my men to the threat. A sneak attack made in the small hours from a completely unexpected direction. Why the forts didn¡¯t report anything, we have you to determine.¡±


    The boy once again, thought Prince Ranade. It was becoming clear he was going to play a vital part in events. Perhaps a private audience was called for. But that could wait.


    ¡°I want you to activate our anti-dragon contingencies immediately,¡± said the prince.


    ¡°I took the liberty of already giving the order, sire,¡± said the Chief.


    ¡°Good,¡± said the prince. ¡°At least our preparations for rogue dragons will prove to have been wise despite the cost.¡±


    It had been his father who had instigated the extremely expensive program to defend against dragons turning against their keepers. Had he known this would happen. The old man had always been remarkably prescient about such things. His advice now would have been most welcome. Perhaps that wasn¡¯t such an impossible notion.


    ¡°There is a slight problem¡­¡± said the Chief.


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°We have no idea where the dragons are now. They disappeared with the rising of the sun. We suspect they are in hiding, in preparation of a night assault.


    ¡°Hiding?¡± shouted a red-faced Reshvay. ¡°The damn things are bloody huge. Let¡¯s get some mages out there to act as beaters and flush the buggers out.¡±


    ¡°That might be a good idea,¡± said the prince. ¡°Make your preparations and I¡¯ll speak to the Archmage. Monforth, send for Archmage van Dastan, and send an escort to bring him back. We no longer have the luxury for dithering. Gentlemen.¡± He rose from his seat and the other men sprang to their feet. ¡°Let¡¯s meet back here in two hours.¡±


    ¡°Sire,¡± said the Chief, ¡°your personal safety¡ª¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll be perfectly safe in the palace,¡± said the prince, shooting a look at Monforth. Had he somehow slipped the Chief a message? It was the sort of thing he would do.


    ¡°Still, your personal guard should be reinforced, I feel.¡±


    ¡°Yes, yes, fine,¡± said the prince. ¡°As long as they¡¯re discreet about it. And the Tutt boy¡­ increase the security around him also, but not overtly, that will only alert our enemies to his importance.¡± What was his importance? He would need to look into it more when he had time. When he didn¡¯t have enemy dragons bearing down on the capital.


    ¡°Yes, sire. I will see to it immediately.¡± More smoke wafted around the Chief.


    Prince Ranade turned and walked away, his gut telling him he needed to speak to someone more knowledgeable about the subject of dragons before he met with the Archmage. He just hoped the old man was in one of his more lucid moods.


    ***


    Mol Carmine hurried to his waiting carriage and returned to the Ministry of Instruction while the other ministers held an impromptu conference among themselves. His portfolio did not involve the defence of the realm, not directly, at least. They wouldn¡¯t miss his input, or even ask for it.


    The Tutt boy¡¯s involvement had come as something of a surprise, and his instincts told him this would not be the last time the name cropped up. His initial attempt to secure the boy for a ¡®chat¡¯ had also been correct. If not for the Archmage¡¯s daughter, he could have mined the boy for information himself. Finding out through the Chief of Staff did his cause no good whatsoever.


    ¡°I¡¯m not to be disturbed for the next twenty minutes,¡± he said to Stodar as he entered his office.


    ¡°You have a¡ª¡±


    ¡°Yes, yes, I know,¡± he said, cutting off his assistant. The man was efficient and competent, but Mol couldn¡¯t shake the feeling his predecessor¡¯s staff ¡ª especially this man ¡ª had yet to fully accept him as their new commander. Things would need changing once he lost the ¡®acting¡¯ tag.


    In his office, a man in dress uniform was standing by the window, staring out like he was basking in the sunshine, had there been any on this overcast morning.


    ¡°You have failed your mission, it seems, Rutga.¡±


    Rutga turned and hurried to stand by the desk as Mol took his seat behind it.


    ¡°Sir? I completed my mission as ordered. Fort Neera was neutralised before anyone could raise the alarm.¡±


    ¡°Yes, you¡¯re right. I¡¯m a little tense at the moment, please forgive the unwarranted accusation. What I should have said was that we have failed in securing our objective. If anyone is at fault here, it is I. For not following my instincts and removing a possible problem before it could become a problem.¡± He shook his head.


    ¡°Is there something I can do to rectify the situation?¡± asked the old soldier, always ready to take action rather than dwell on failure. A good man.


    ¡°Yes, actually, there is. I want you to go to the Ransom School. There¡¯s someone I want you to seek out there.¡±


    ***


    Prince Ranade stood outside his father¡¯s bedroom with his Royal Physician, Doctor Uajel. He was a thin man, slightly stooped from age or worry, it was hard to say.


    ¡°He¡¯s been remarkably lucid so far this morning,¡± said the doctor. ¡°Remembered my name and called me a few new ones.¡± He flashed a grim smile, a man under a great burden. He has been personally treating the king since his breakdown, and the old man wasn¡¯t a very cooperative patient even before that.


    ¡°I only need a few minutes with him,¡± said Prince Ranade.


    ¡°As you wish, sire. I can¡¯t promise you he¡¯ll be very receptive, but you are certainly welcome to try.¡± He stepped forward and opened the door.


    The prince turned his head and said, ¡°Wait here,¡± to the otherwise empty room.


    The room was dark, the curtains drawn and the blinds closed. His father¡¯s ailment made his eyes particularly sensitive to light, although it wasn¡¯t hard to find him even in the shadows. His eyes were burning a fierce blue.


    ¡°Father? It¡¯s Ranade.¡±


    There was the noise of chains rattling. ¡°Ranade?¡± said a husky voice. ¡°My boy?¡±


    ¡°Yes, Father.¡±


    ¡°Come closer, let me have a good look at you. Yes. You look so fine and fit, my boy.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Father.¡±


    ¡°I remember you were such a fat child. Always demanding sweets from the servants. That poor nanny of yours, whatever happened to her?¡±


    ¡°She is retired, Father. She lives in Wallsham, in a cottage I gave her.¡±


    ¡°Still alive?¡±


    ¡°Yes, Father. She writes to my wife occasionally, with advice. I often suspect the two of them are in league against me.¡±


    ¡°Ha, a fine woman, a handsome woman. The only one to refuse your demands. I remember how you would demand she be replaced, but your mother wouldn¡¯t hear of it.¡±


    ¡°No, she made her my governess.¡±


    ¡°Ha, yes, that¡¯s right. Gave her permission to beat you. Did she?¡±


    ¡°No, sir. She only threatened to.¡±


    ¡°Good woman. I loved her, you know?¡±


    ¡°My nanny?¡±


    ¡°No, you impertinent boy. Your mother. I loved her greatly.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Father, I know. I came to ask your advice on matters of state.¡±


    ¡°Ah, how goes the running of the kingdom? Still sitting on the throne, or have one of your brothers ousted you?¡±


    He did seem lucid, far more than usual. Even his most clearheaded moments tended to be filled with abstract moments. Today, he sounded like his old, mean-spirited self.


    ¡°Yes, Father, for the time being. We are having an issue with the dragons. They are refusing to fly, or eat, or follow any instructions.¡± Ranade stood by the bed, his hand on the post holding up the canopy housing his father¡¯s frail but dangerous body. His eyes were accustomed enough to the gloom to make out some of the features on the old man¡¯s withered face.


    ¡°Dragons? Ask the Archmage, that¡¯s his provenance. Grayshall loves the beasts, feeds the exotic meats he says will keep their scales shiny. Ha!¡±


    Archmage Grayshall had been the previous head of the Royal College, dead for over thirty years.


    ¡°It¡¯s van Dastan now, sir. And I¡¯m afraid he isn¡¯t all that coherent on the subject. Says the link between the dragons and the other place has been severed. I had no idea there was even a link.¡±


    ¡°Not possible,¡± said the king. ¡°Not possible. That would break the covenant, if the demons were to seal the dragons they gave us. Not possible.¡± It sounded like he was losing focus, his voice drifting.


    ¡°What if it wasn¡¯t the demons¡¯ doing but our own?¡± Ranade said quickly, sensing he was working with limited time.


    ¡°Yes, that¡¯s their way, get us to do it to ourselves.¡± There was a chortle in the darkness. ¡°Bring us to our knees without raising a finger.¡± More throaty laughs.


    ¡°Other dragons have been seen, in the possession of our enemies


    ¡°Not possible, not possible,¡± said the king. ¡°Also against the covenant. No shadow dragons.¡±


    ¡°Shadow dragons?¡±


    ¡°Vile beasts, prisoners of the night. They can¡¯t exist in the daylight.¡±


    ¡°Where do they go when the sun rises?¡± asked the prince.


    ¡°Where do dreams go when you wake? They live in your mind, do not think of them.¡± His voice had turned stern. ¡°Put all such thoughts aside.¡± He was barking instructions now.


    ¡°Yes, Father. I will. Is there any way to kill them during the day?¡±


    ¡°I told you, they cease to exist. How do you kill that which is not? Ignore them and they cannot harm you. They will not come, the demons vowed it, it is in the covenant.¡±


    ¡°They have come, Father, they are here.¡±


    ¡°Then find them and chase them away. The demons are bound by their word to not interfere.¡±


    Find them? How? Perhaps the person who saw them arrive might know where they were now.


    ¡°Thank you, Father. I shall let you rest.¡±


    ¡°She won¡¯t let you, you know, won¡¯t let you.¡±


    ¡°Who won¡¯t?¡±


    ¡°That nanny of yours. Won¡¯t let you have any more sweets, your tantrums won¡¯t do you any good. Handsome woman. Proud, like that trout I caught that time, do you remember? Sparkled, it did. Fought like a monster and sparkled.¡± The king¡¯s voice drifted off into mumbling.


    Prince Ranade quietly left the room.

 Book 2: Chapter Twenty Seven

    Nic woke much earlier than he wanted to. His early morning training sessions had habituated his body into getting up at a particular time and being tired made no difference. That was just normal.


    Even though the agents had allowed him to go to bed because he was exhausted ¡ª and he had been completely drained of all energy by events ¡ª his eyes still snapped open before the first grey light of dawn.


    He remained in bed for a while, trying to convince himself to go back to sleep. Logically, he needed as much rest as he could get for whatever the day would bring, but his mind was not listening to him. What he wanted to do was get up and run around for a bit, which was a very strange feeling. He considered resisting, but what good would that do?


    Restless and twitchy, he got out of bed and got dressed in his gym clothes. If his body now craved exercise, that was probably a good thing. The sort of thing that would make it easier for him to get in shape, in the long term. In the short term, it was just annoying.


    A jog around the school grounds, one circuit, should be enough to get it out of his system, he decided. He made his way out of the cottage as quietly as he could and stood shivering outside the front door, already regretting this new-found enthusiasm for wearing himself out.


    As Nic started to run, he felt a presence beside him and nearly fell over, thinking he was about to be attacked by someone chasing him. He veered to the side slightly but then realised there was a Secret Service agent, wearing a green mask, running next to him.


    It was a little tricky to see the agent clearly, he was more of a blur than a solid person, but Nic could just about make him out.


    He kept running, slightly self-conscious of the person observing him. Should he try to run as fast as possible to make a good impression? Retain good form so the agent would report back with a positive assessment of his progress?


    The agent didn¡¯t say anything, didn¡¯t even look at Nic, just kept pace with him.


    Nic felt a little foolish for reading too much into what was most likely a simple assignment to keep an eye on him. With various elements moving against Ranvar, and with Nic seemingly in the middle of things, it made sense to make sure they knew where he was at all times.


    The sun was up now and the porters were out and doing their usual maintenance jobs. They ignored Nic as he ran past. Could they see the agent jogging beside him? Did they even notice Nic? They seemed far more interested in doing their job and getting on with their own lives.


    Nic closed his eyes for a moment and pictured the school from above. He asked for the location of all agents on school grounds and multiple lights appeared, far more than there had been last night.


    There were even lights lining the route he was taking around the school. He opened his eyes ¡ª if he kept them closed too long there was a strong possibility he might run into a tree ¡ª and looked for the agents he¡¯d seen from above. There was no sign of anyone watching.


    Had they increased their presence on campus because of him? All the important children had already been removed, so there wasn¡¯t really anyone else they would be here for. Nic felt mildly embarrassed about flattering himself into such an important role. The whole Secret Service here to watch over him, how grand.


    He had to remind himself it wasn¡¯t so much that he was a VIP, more that he attracted people who were important and dangerous, so sticking close to him was an excellent way to get to them.


    As Nic ran, he got faster and faster. Rather than tiring himself out and losing his breath, he felt energised by being outside, not having to think or observe others, no calculations running through his mind. It was freeing and exhilarating to simply cut loose and not care what was up ahead.


    Something painful happened to the back of his left leg and he quickly came to a halt, hopping the last few steps. He hadn¡¯t bothered to warm up properly, even though the agents who normally trained him always insisted on it. And he¡¯d made such a basic error with all these people watching.


    He hopped over to a bench and sat down, along. The green-masked agent wasn¡¯t in sight, nor were any of the others. Nic had a burning sensation biting into the back of his thigh. He rubbed at it but without much relief. The black-masked agent had always been very good with these sorts of injuries, but he wasn¡¯t here. Nic thought about asking the green one for his help. Would that be too forward?


    He closed his eyes and checked the location of the agents again. There was one standing right next to him. Nic opened his eyes while maintaining his second sight as best he could. He turned his head and saw the agent standing there, hands behind his back, legs slightly apart.


    ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you know how to fix a strained muscle.¡±


    The agent ignored him, looking straight ahead.


    ¡°The other agents, the one who help train me, they do this thing where they sort of hammer my muscles to loosen them up when I get tight.¡± It felt like an imposition, like he was asking a favour from a stranger. ¡°I mean, it¡¯s fine if you don¡¯t.¡±


    The agent turned his head and looked at Nic through the green masks tiny eye-holes, making eye-contact with Nic.


    ¡°You can see me?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°How?¡±


    ¡°Oh, um, well¡­¡± What was he supposed to say? The truth? That probably wasn¡¯t a good idea. ¡°My senses have sort of gotten heightened.¡± A partial truth would do, he decided.


    ¡°That¡¯s how you knew about the dragons?¡±


    ¡°Yes. In a way. It¡¯s difficult to explain.¡± He got up from the bench, which made him wince. It would probably be better to head back and avoid answering any more awkward questions.


    ¡°Stop. Lift your foot up.¡±


    Nic raised his foot behind him and rested the tip of his shoe on the bench.


    A sharp twinge pinched the back of his leg. Followed by another and then another. His leg went numb for a moment, and then very loose.


    He lowered his leg and stamped his foot on the ground.


    ¡°Thanks. Good as new.¡± It did feel a lot better, although the memory of the pain still lingered, like he was wearing trousers that were too tight. At least he could walk again. He started to walk and then jog back to the cottage. He sensed the agent still trailing him, just a half-step behind, but he didn¡¯t look directly at him.


    When he returned to the cottage, none of the others were up. It was only just past sunrise and they were enjoying their rest.


    Nic took a shower, the water so hot it nearly scalded him. He turned it colder and colder until he was being blasted with freezing cold water. The shock of it shook his brain in a way Nic enjoyed. He couldn¡¯t think straight or dwell on any one subject. Everything went blank when his skin turned blue.


    Icy water struck his head like icicles and ran down his face like claws. His body shivered and then all feeling passed beyond his reach. He felt nothing and stood under the relentless flow sinking deeper into it.


    He came out of the bathroom to find Davo standing in the kitchen in his monogrammed robe and carrying a fluffy towel.


    ¡°You took your time,¡± said Davo, ¡°what were you doing in there?¡±


    ¡°Taking a shower,¡± said Nic, unable to not sound guilty. ¡°Was I long?¡± He had lost track of time once his mind went blank.


    ¡°Nearly an hour. Now there won¡¯t be any hot water left.¡±


    ¡°Oh, it¡¯s okay. It was a cold shower.¡±


    Davo arched a single eyebrow. ¡°I see. That girl preying on your mind is she?¡±


    It took a moment for Nic to grasp what Davo meant. ¡°No, nothing like that. I just went for a run and felt a bit overheated.¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t run from your problems,¡± said Davo. ¡°And you can¡¯t freeze your desire.¡±


    ¡°It was just a shower.¡±


    ¡°Have you two finished?¡± asked Fanny, yawning as he entered the kitchen.


    ¡°He has, I haven¡¯t,¡± said Davo.


    ¡°Well, hurry up, what are you standing out here for?¡±


    ¡°He only just came out,¡± said Davo. ¡°After a one hour cold shower.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± said Fanny. ¡°Girls, eh? I get the same way after I watch a lacrosse match. It¡¯s the short skirts.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said Nic, patiently. ¡°I was just cooling off after a run.¡±


    ¡°Did someone say cold shower?¡± said Brill, coming into the already crowded kitchen. ¡°Excellent for the health. Helps with circulation.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Nic. ¡°Exactly.¡±


    ¡°Especially,¡± continued Brill, ¡°if you¡¯ve been having fever-dreams about the opposite sex all night. Miss Delcroix got you tossing and turning, has she?¡±


    Nic put his towel over his head and walked back to his room using his new ability to guide his way.


    ***


    Lessons were scheduled as normal but the absence of so many students made the classroom feel empty.


    The second year of the Upper Class was limited in number and most of Nic¡¯s classes were already quite small, apart from Military Strategy, which attracted all the people looking to become career soldiers. Most of them came from military families and planned to continue the family tradition; it was expected.


    Their connection to the army also made them the most likely to be withdrawn from the school. Information about what was happening was scant and mostly unfounded gossip, but those in the army would have the best idea of just how bad things were about to get.


    Nic was sure that the people left behind could also tell things were in a precarious condition merely from seeing who was gone. The students all knew each other, were familiar with each other¡¯s backgrounds having practically grown up together. If all the people with military connections had returned to their homes, it made it very clear that there was about to be some kind of conflict in the very near future, and not just the usual scrimmaging on the outskirts of the country, but something that would affect everyone.Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.


    The atmosphere was tense and strained. No one knew what was going on, but they knew enough to be worried.


    Nic looked around the barely half-full classroom as Mr Varity tried to talk about the advantages of controlling the high ground in a battle ¡ª elementary stuff but for some reason, it was taking Varity twice as long as it should to get through. He kept repeating parts he¡¯d already covered and when he finally moved on to start talking about dragons and air superiority, he suddenly stopped and sat down behind his desk, shaking slightly.


    There was a moment of confusion in the class as the eight students present looked at each other. After a few minutes of waiting for Varity to continue, one of the girls at the front rose and asked if he¡¯d like her to fetch the school nurse.


    ¡°Hmm, no, no, I¡¯m fine,¡± said Mr Varity, raising his head like he¡¯d just woken from a nap. ¡°I apologise, I¡¯m not quite myself today. It¡¯s all this talk of war and invasion. Pure speculation, I know, but it¡¯s hard not to fret when your family lives so close to the border. It is, of course, good strategic sense to attack from the last place the enemy expects. A nation in the west attacking from the east¡­ very smart, and hence very likely to be true.¡± His voice drifted off into mumbling and he stared down at his desk.


    Nic had always liked Mr Varity. He had been a little difficult at first, treating Nic and the others the same as he¡¯d treated all the Also-Rans over the years. There was no reason not to. But he had turned out to be more interested in teaching than holding onto a pointless prejudice, and had been very helpful to Nic.


    ¡°Sir,¡± said Nic, standing up, ¡°I¡¯m sure your family are fine. The attack is from the east, but it isn¡¯t going to target any of the border villages and towns.¡±


    ¡°Yes, yes, I¡¯m sure you¡¯re right. Not intentionally, at least. But there are obstacles that need to be cleared in order to get to your target, such is the way of war. It wasn¡¯t so long ago ¡ª well, before any of you were born, of course ¡ª that one of our neighbours decided to launch an attack over a minor diplomatic squabble.¡±


    ¡°The Jaminikan Incursion,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°That¡¯s right, that¡¯s right,¡± said Varity. ¡°Trust you to have read up on it. A meaningless thrust of no real consequence, quickly dealt with and punished accordingly, but, you see¡­ by the time our forces were able to be deployed, three villages had already been burned to the ground. Dozens dead ¡ª women, children, farmers, labourers. No one of any great importance, except to their loved ones. I¡¯ve always had a love for the elegance of great warfare, the wheeling of cavalry, the charge of men with weapons held aloft. But the truth is, the truth is¡­¡± He lost his train of thought and stared into the middle-distance.


    The class became restless again, unused to seeing an authority figure brought to a standstill by dread.


    It was hard to know how to reassure him his family were not in danger. There were no ground forces to run rampant through quiet, undefended villages. Dragons flew over them without stopping, without sparing even a thought over the women and children, or the farmers and labourers. Those were not their targets.


    But who would believe the attackers rode shadow dragons? And if they did believe him, wouldn¡¯t they become even more terrified?


    ¡°Where do your family live?¡± asked Nic.


    ¡°Mm? Oh, a small village called Invesk. I doubt even you have heard of it.¡±


    ¡°East? Past the Yorel River?¡±


    ¡°Yes, to the south of Great Bend.¡±


    Nic could see the large curve in the wide river called Great Bend. He was above it, flying east. He could keep his eyes open and look at Mr Varity, and at the same time see the floodplain stretch out beneath him. He had seen it on maps many times, but seeing it like this, movement and sound, grass swaying and water rushing, it was like being a bird.


    And people, he could see them here and there. Farms and villages.


    ¡°How far south? As far as the forest?¡± He could see the vast tract of woodland in the distance.


    ¡°No, not that far,¡± said Varity, his voice a little hard to hear. ¡°Where the river narrows, a bridge and a straight road, pink from the clay in the soil.¡±


    ¡°Yes, a village with two white towers.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right, the old temple. It¡¯s a community hall now, where they hold dances. My family owns the house to the north. A red slate roof, the only one in the village.¡±


    Nic soared closer, lower. He could see the house clearly, its windows open, the garden green and full of vegetables.


    ¡°Someone likes lettuce a lot,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°Ha, yes, my mother keeps rabbits. Spoils them rotten.¡±


    ¡°Does she bathe them, too?¡± He could see a small, fat woman, old but feisty, struggling to scrub an animal in a soapy bucket.¡±


    ¡°She does, she does,¡± said Varity. ¡°Insists on keeping them clean.¡±


    ¡°She seems fine. Happy. There are no enemies here, no invaders. They would have been through here by now, if they were coming this way.¡±


    Nic blinked and looked at Mr Varity, who had tears running down his cheeks and relief in his eyes.


    ¡°Thank you, thank you, Nic. I don¡¯t know how you¡­ I¡¯m sure you weren¡¯t supposed to, and I won¡¯t ask how, without Arcanum. But thank you.¡±


    The rest of the class was also staring at Nic, not quite so benevolently. They all knew he was a little different, given special treatment no Also-Ran had ever received, but he shouldn¡¯t have flaunted it like that. He had acted rashly and unnecessarily, but he was still glad he had.


    The bell rang.


    ¡°That was stupid,¡± said Dizzy as they left the classroom. She had waited until he was ready to leave and appeared beside him, her scent warning him before her voice hissed in his ear. ¡°You exposed yourself for no reason.¡±


    He thought she might demand answers, ask him exactly how he¡¯d done it. But she just chastised him for being too open. She was probably right.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think it¡¯s right to let people be scared like that,¡± said Nic. ¡°It¡¯s hard when you feel helpless and can¡¯t do anything.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s normal,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°Giving people false hope isn¡¯t a good thing.¡±


    ¡°Hope is never false,¡± said Nic. ¡°By definition.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to argue semantics with you. Just try to be a little more cautious about who you reveal your abilities to. I¡¯ve been asking for weeks and you refuse to say anything, and the first time that old fool starts blubbering, you show your whole hand. Maybe I should have tried tearing up to get you to talk.¡± She sounded annoyed at his poor judgement. The fact he¡¯d said too much or that he hadn¡¯t said it to her?


    They were out in the quad, on their way to the Arts Course. The whole quad was eerily empty.


    ¡°It¡¯s different for us,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°Us?¡± Dizzy stopped, expecting him to do the same. He did, of course. ¡°What makes you think there¡¯s an ¡®us¡¯? What do we have in common, Nic?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re both on the outside looking in,¡± said Nic.


    Dizzy stared at him, then started walking again without saying anything.


    ***


    There was just five of them in the Arts Course. Rumi had gone but she had always been fairly quiet, so the change wasn¡¯t as dramatic as in Nic¡¯s other classes. Mr Periwinkle came in with his pile of textbooks and handed them out. They spent the lesson going over the various hand movements required for basic spells.


    It felt silly and pointless when there was no actual magic involved, and no one to offer guidance. It was also tiring and surprisingly stressful on his wrist. He didn¡¯t want another injury and warmed up his hands and fingers, while the others looked at him like he was doing it as a joke.


    Simole refused to join in and put her head down on the desk. She had not had a good night¡¯s sleep, as she told them while glaring at Nic spinning his wrists.


    The rest of them examined the diagrams in the books they¡¯d been given and then tried to imitate them without any idea if they were doing it right. Dizzy seemed to have the most fluid movements, but whether or not they were correct was impossible to say.


    Periwinkle let them get on with it, claiming it was something they would know when they got it right. It would just click into place, apparently. He sat back in his chair and placed a book over his face, joining Simole in catching up on some sleep. What had he been up to last night? Nic wondered.


    It was a fairly undemanding way to pass a couple of hours and another school day was over. It didn¡¯t feel like he was learning very much, or that he was heading towards a career in clerical work. Nic wasn¡¯t sure where any of this was leading.


    Nic waited for everyone to leave, including Dizzy, before going up to Mr Periwinkle.


    ¡°I wanted to ask you something,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°Yes, Mr Tutt?¡± said Periwinkle.


    ¡°The dragons, the ones made of shadow, did he make them?¡±


    ¡°The High-Father created them, but he did not bring them into being here. That is the work of another, but it still leads back to him, as all things do.¡±


    ¡°And they only manifest at night?¡±


    Periwinkle looked mildly surprised. ¡°Yes. You learn fast, don¡¯t you Mr Tutt?¡±


    ¡°Is there a way to stop them? A weakness?¡±


    ¡°The dragons? They are insubstantial and easily destroyed. But they can be resummoned just as easily.¡±


    ¡°I see,¡± said Nic. ¡°The caster is the weakness.¡±


    Periwinkle shook his head in wonderment. ¡°As you say.¡±


    ¡°I think the High-Father wants there to be a war.¡±


    ¡°And you don¡¯t?¡±


    ¡°If it was just between the people who wanted to fight, I think it would be fine. Their lives are theirs to do what they want with. But the rest of the people who only wish to live their lives the way they see fit, I don¡¯t think they deserve to be caught up in the High-Father¡¯s plans.¡±


    ¡°He doesn¡¯t work like that,¡± said Periwinkle. ¡°If war is coming, it will be instigated by others, not him.¡±


    ¡°Was it like this on your world?¡± asked Nic.


    Periwinkle paused and Nic could see the Librarian underneath, the way she sat, the way she held her head. ¡°It was¡­ similar. There were those who were filled with excitement at the prospect of claiming power. Things had been stable for so long, there were those who craved change, at whatever cost. They each believed they would be victorious in the end, of course.¡± She sighed. ¡°In the end, it was everyone who lost. Everyone but him.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t want that to happen here,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°What you want is not going to matter. The players in this game have immense power.¡±


    ¡°And I¡¯m just a piece on the board.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said the Librarian. ¡°You would need to claim some of that power for yourself if you wanted to challenge the outcome, but that also happened on my home. It changes how you think when you can turn the things you dream of into reality. You become like him. Do you believe you can avoid that fate, Nic?¡±


    ¡°Does it matter if the alternative is so terrible?¡± said Nic.


    She smiled. ¡°That is how I failed my world, by thinking the very same thing.¡±


    The truth was what he wanted was academic. He had no way to prevent what was about to happen. He would just be able to see it coming before everyone else.


    ***


    Dizzy watched Nic leave the classroom and head back to his room. She waited until she was sure he was gone before entering.


    Mr Periwinkle was sitting behind his desk, eyes closed, seemingly lost in thought. She stood there watching him. His eyes slowly opened and turned to look at her.


    ¡°Yes, Miss Delcroix?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what you are, I only know you came with them. Are you here following orders?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Periwinkle.


    ¡°Will you turn against us when told to do so?¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t be told to do so, you should have no doubts about that.¡±


    ¡°Will you help us?¡±


    ¡°I cannot say.¡±


    ¡°If Nic finds a way to defeat them, as unlikely as it seems right now, and he needs your help, will you help him?¡± She watched closely for the answer; the true answer.


    ¡°If there is a chance, a real chance, then I would like to think I would.¡±


    ¡°Do you hate them?¡± asked Dizzy.


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Then why don¡¯t you fight back?¡±


    ¡°Revenge does not bring the dead back to life,¡± said Periwinkle.


    ¡°It can stop more dead from joining them.¡±


    ¡°And then what?¡± said Periwinkle. ¡°Your world is not so perfect for everyone as it is for you. Unhappy people will always strive for change. Slowly or quickly, it doesn¡¯t make much difference.¡±


    Dizzy could feel herself starting to get frustrated but swallowed it down.


    ¡°But you¡¯re right,¡± said Periwinkle.


    ¡°About what?¡± said Dizzy.


    ¡°The way you feel about him.¡±


    Dizzy could feel herself losing her temper, anger welling up inside her. ¡°You know nothing about how I feel. Are you the one sending me those dreams?¡±


    ¡°Dreams? No. I do not have that ability. Someone else, or maybe just you. Are they bad dreams?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Like a fever. I wake up soaked in sweat, reeling. I want them to stop.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I have no way to help. But what about you? Will you help him when the time comes?¡±


    ¡°He doesn¡¯t need my help. Or want it. He sees me as a burden, something he has to protect. He¡¯ll die trying to save me.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps that¡¯s what he needs. Something to fight for.¡±


    ¡°That isn¡¯t what I want to be,¡± said Dizzy, the heat of the words burning her throat and mouth. ¡°He can find that elsewhere.¡± She¡¯d had enough of this conversation, already regretting starting it. She turned to leave.


    ¡°By the way, your dreaming problem. Have you tried taking a cold shower?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°I take them frequently. It doesn¡¯t help.¡±

 Book 2: Chapter Twenty Eight

    After Nic had finished his classes for the day, had gone over the bare minimum he would need to cover to not fall behind ¡ª the lessons were becoming progressively harder and more reading-intensive ¡ª which would take him maybe an hour, maybe two, he returned to his room and lay on his bed, certain that he held the knowledge to keeping Ranvar safer from shadow dragons but uncertain where it was hidden or how to access it.


    His schoolwork was the least of his worries but he was determined to not let it be the thing he sacrificed in order to achieve the task ahead of him. Assuming he ¡ª or someone else ¡ª managed to avert the coming crisis, he would still need to secure some sort of future from himself. If, as he suspected, he was merely a pawn in some wider strategy, then he doubted much consideration would be shown his way once the danger had passed. He was not well-connected or likely to be offered his pick of the best opportunities once his usefulness was at an end.


    It wasn¡¯t actually that much of a burden to have to keep part of his focus on something so mundane as homework. Rather than wear him down, having to switch modes and work out what needed to be done and how to complete it efficiently kept his faculties sharp and his mind active. He couldn¡¯t afford to drop any balls, and removing one might well unbalance the rhythm he had managed to sustain so far.


    It also helped that with so many students now no longer present in classes, the expected standard of the end of year exams would be greatly reduced. Their absenteeism worked in his favour.


    Confident that he was still in control of his destiny ¡ª something he would have been unable to claim a few weeks ago ¡ª Nic turned his attention to the matter of the dragons now in the possession of Gweur. Here was a problem that no textbook would help him solve. Without their own dragons, how could Ranvar possibly defend her borders?


    The most likely answer seemed to be the mages of the Royal College. They had the power to oppose anyone who dared threaten the safety and security of Ranvar, they could bring the shadow dragons falling out of the sky, couldn¡¯t they?


    But the Gweurvians were aware of this. They wouldn¡¯t come charging in with no way to defend themselves against magical attacks. Were their dragons immune to Arcanum? He had seen the Arcanum core that powered them, but he had been lucky to be allowed that close. Dragons were best used at long range and provide cover. He doubted they would make the same mistake again.


    It was a sunny afternoon that gave no hint of the dangers that surrounded the school. They Gweurvians seemed to favour nighttime activity, which wasn¡¯t surprising. Would there be more visitors tonight? The increase in the number of Secret Service agents when there were far fewer people to protect suggested they considered it likely. Nic saw them spread out across the school grounds when he closed his eyes.


    When he tried to locate the shadow dragons, the results were the opposite ¡ª nothing to be seen. He knew they had crossed the border, but he hadn¡¯t been able to keep track of them. They had just disappeared.


    Could they be summoned and dismissed as needed? If so, the riders would be left behind, but there were no signs of them, either.


    Could they be hidden from him? He didn¡¯t yet understand his own abilities well enough to be sure. He sensed that if he could master this ability, the tactical foresight it afforded him would be a huge advantage in this sort of situation. But he was still trying to grasp how to use it effectively, not even knowing the correct terms for the things he wanted to see. For all he knew, the shadow dragons were right in front of him, but he wasn¡¯t using the correct appellation to identify them.


    What he really needed was a tutorial in the various different functions of his new ability. Or a manual. For once, he would have appreciated Winnum Roke¡¯s advice, but she had been removed from his mind. He felt empty-headed with only his own thoughts to draw from.


    Nic could have quite easily spent the rest of the afternoon and evening scanning Ranvar¡¯s borders and the lands beyond. Even without knowing what to look for, it was a pleasant way to pass the time as long as he didn¡¯t think about the possibility of war and the deaths that would bring.


    He preferred to think of different targets to search for and it would turn over the image in his mind like the porters burning raked leaves, stirring them with long sticks so that sparks flew into the air. Lights flickered and dimmed as Nic watched.


    He couldn¡¯t see any dragons nor any Gweurvian spies. They could come and go as they pleased, it seemed. They could choose their own time and place for battle in the streets of the capital or on the school¡¯s playing fields.


    The thought of them having the initiative made Nic uncomfortable. It was considered a huge tactical advantage to be able to choose where and when you wished to fight. With control of the skies and who knew how many allies gathered, it was looking more and more like a well-planned and coordinated attack.


    Ranvar, meanwhile, was losing all its advantages.


    Nic got up, unable to find what he was looking for and reluctant to waste the rest of the time he had. He quietly left the cottage and walked across the campus to the school library. As impressive as it was to be able to search the world for whatever he wished to see, it was only as useful as his ability to know what to look for.


    The library was moderately busy, those students left to continue their studies carrying on with their daily routine. The new librarian was a neatly dressed man, everything pulled in tight so he looked narrow enough to slide in between two pages of a closed book, who had been sent down from the Librarium. Nic had seen him there on occasion, one of the assistants to Mr Gheri.


    Trying to find information on shadow dragons was going to be no easier here, but the library was where Nic felt most at home. Any library, it made no difference if it was housed in a stately mansion or a shed. It was the books that counted. It wasn¡¯t even the knowledge they contained, it was the way they sat on the shelves forming wall after wall, a barrier between you and the rest of the world.


    ¡°We have a fine selection of tomes on the subject of dragons up on the third floor,¡± said the new librarian, Mr Cuttle.


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Nic. ¡°I was hoping you might have something about their history more than their biology.¡±


    ¡°Their history?¡± said Mr Cuttle, his eyes looking down his long nose in the exact same manner as every librarian Nic had ever encountered. They had to be trained to do it at some secret initiation ceremony. ¡°I¡¯m afraid I don¡¯t follow.¡±


    ¡°Anything to do with the mythology of dragons. Where they came from, how they were created.¡±


    ¡°Ah, you want the fiction section.¡± Mr Cuttle leaned across the reception desk. ¡°Dragonriders of Vengeance was always a guilty pleasure of mine.¡±


    Nic had heard of the book but had never read it. A glimpse at the print of a shirtless man on a dragon on the inside cover had told him more than enough. Simole would probably like it. ¡°I was hoping for something more traditional.¡±


    ¡°Folklore? We have some old texts in the archives, I believe. They¡¯re rather simple retellings of old tales.¡±


    ¡°Yes, that sounds promising,¡± said Nic. Perhaps the most basic version of the story would be the most revealing.


    The librarian took a large bunch of keys from behind his desk and led Nic to the rear of the library, to a scuffed door. He asked Nic to wait and returned in a few minutes with a small pile of books that were little more than pamphlets. To call them basic was an understatement.


    Nic took them and promised to return them once he¡¯d finished. He didn¡¯t imagine it would take more than ten minutes.


    He found an empty table, of which there were many, and flicked through the pages.


    A passing draft of air caught his attention, the scent familiar, and he looked up just as Dizzy passed by, books in her arms. She sat down at a table with her back to him, no indication that she had even noticed he was there.


    Nic could see the names of the books but would have recognised them anyway. They were from the Advanced Economics Analysis reading list. It seemed Dizzy was making sure she regained her place at the head of the year. If fewer students made it easier to maintain your position, it also made it easier to climb.


    The ¡®advanced¡¯ part of the class had turned out to be memorising a lot of facts and figures. Mostly figures. The different economies of the neighbouring regions and how they fluctuated under changes of policy had been meticulously recorded over several hundred years. It was possible to predict future changes by evaluating the variables and adjusting for social and political variance. There were some very complex equations and some even more complicated correction tables you were supposed to know by heart. You would, of course, have access to the tables in most normal situations, but having them in your head was considered essential for anyone thinking of applying for a position in any of the governmental departments. Every decision you made was expected to take into account the financial ramifications, home and abroad. Stability was founded on secure economics more than armies and soldiers.


    In fact, armies and soldiers had tended to have the opposite effect, creating more strife rather than lessening it. Sometimes, that was unavoidable.


    Nic sat at his table and closed his eyes. He tried to bring up the tables from the textbooks Dizzy had open on her desk. If his ability could show him a book as easily as it did other targets, it would make his academic life a lot easier.


    He could vaguely see the page, but it was from his own memory and not some supernatural implant. He would just have to remember them the old-fashioned way.


    Nic returned his gaze to the pamphlets on the table. They were frayed at the edges and on the verge of falling apart, but no extra care had been taken to preserve them. They weren¡¯t considered valuable enough. Carefully turning the pages so as not to cause any more damage, he read through the short paragraphs on each side to confirm the general assessment of the writing had been accurate.


    The first small book was called Dragon Tide and was written in verse. Nic groaned internally, never a big fan of poetry or any other attempt to obfuscate meaning in the name of art. There were undoubtedly some things that were impossible to convey in a direct or factual manner, but they were usually so difficult to get across hardly anyone attempted it, in any form. The subject of most art tended to be very clear cut and not in need of abstract interpolation. Beauty, Nic felt, was best represented in clarity.The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    The verse itself, from what Nic could tell, was about a sea dragon ¡ª a species that did not exist and never had ¡ª that came on land and took the form of a man. He took a human woman from the isle of Anrogga as his wife and left her to go back to the water when she became pregnant, although this was couched in euphemistic terms. She was left to raise the child while staring out to sea, which probably made the child-rearing much more difficult than it needed to be.


    Nic doubted the story had very much to do with dragons and more than likely was aimed at lovelorn women and widows. Personally, he didn¡¯t think there was anything romantic about abandoning a pregnant woman, but it was a condition not that uncommon among the brides of soldiers. Rather than a sense of being betrayed and abandoned, it offered comfort in the form of hope. They weren¡¯t dead, they had returned to the sea. It felt a cruel sentiment to Nic. He knew only too well what it took to raise a child alone, and there was little time for gazing at the sun setting in the hope of seeing a loved one again.


    The other stories weren¡¯t quite so maudlin, but they did have a tendency to rehash the same clich¨¦s. A hero who was noble to a fault, a damsel who required rescuing, and a beast that embodied fear and death. In his experience, only one of those stereotypes bore any resemblance to reality.


    He flicked through the pamphlets, expecting less and less from them, and also treating them with less care. There really was no need to save them for posterity.


    The last one was a little different. It was printed on green paper, for a start, making the faded ink hard to read. It had an imprint of two dragons that looked like fairly accurate representations, one black and the other just an outline so it appeared to be green. Below the dragons facing each other was what he assumed was the title: Dektu Narada Vim.


    Nic didn¡¯t recognise the language, had never seen the words before, and he was at least a little familiar with most modern tongues. This bore no resemblance to any of them.


    The rest of the text was the same, strange words he had no idea how to pronounce. He sat bent over the paper, his finger under each word as he mouthed what he thought they would sound like in the hope it might give him a clue to their meaning. A mysterious new language might contain the secrets he was looking for.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± asked Fanny.


    Nic looked up to find his table surrounded by Fanny, Davo and Brill.


    ¡°Are you hoping to move up to big boy books soon?¡± asked Davo.


    ¡°Do you recognise this language?¡± said Nic, turning the paper around so they could see.


    Davo picked it up as the other two stared over his shoulder. ¡°Old Ingreet,¡± said Davo. He passed it back.


    ¡°What?¡± said Nic. ¡°I¡¯ve never heard of it.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± said Davo. ¡°We sell a set of soup bowls with it as part of the design. They¡¯re very popular.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± asked Fanny.


    ¡°Because people don¡¯t want to eat soup out of the pot,¡± said Davo.


    ¡°No, not why you sell soup bowls,¡± said Fanny. ¡°Why do the bowls have ancient writing on them?¡±


    ¡°Because it looks nice,¡± said Davo, like it was obvious. ¡°Your problem is you eat too fast to appreciate your surroundings.¡±


    Nic was confused. He had never heard of Ingreet, old or otherwise. He looked at the page again. It still looked like gibberish.


    ¡°Where does it come from?¡± asked Nic. ¡°Which country?¡±


    ¡°This country,¡± said Davo. He seemed a little confused now, too.


    ¡°Before the monarchy?¡±


    ¡°Of course before,¡± said Davo. ¡°Before the five tribes, before the Veld, before everything. Are you feeling alright?¡±


    ¡°Yes, I¡¯m fine. Just¡­ You¡¯ve heard of it have you?¡± Fanny and Brill both nodded. ¡°Do you know what it says?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said Davo. ¡°Unless it¡¯s a soup recipe, I doubt anyone cares. Speaking of which, we came to drag you to the cafeteria. Left to your own devices, you will very likely starve to death.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s pasta night,¡± said Fanny, by way of encouragement.


    ¡°Mm? Oh, yes, alright.¡± He rose with the green booklet still in his hand. He put it with the others and picked up the pile.


    How could he have not heard of an entire language? Even if it was old, he should at least be aware of something to do with Ranvar¡¯s past.


    He returned the books to the librarian and considered asking for something on Ingreet, but decided against it. There was something strange going on and he wanted to tread carefully. Plus, he was hungry.


    The pasta came with a red sauce that was sweet and spicy. They ate and chatted about classes, with Nic still wondering about the green pamphlet. Maybe he should have copied it into his notebook and asked someone to translate it for him. Who, though? Was there a teacher he could ask? He really had no good reason to think it would tell him anything, for all he knew it was indeed a soup recipe, but it preyed on his mind.


    The one person who he thought would know about it was Dizzy. If he had managed to somehow miss this part of Ranvar¡¯s history, she wouldn¡¯t have. He turned and looked around the cafeteria but she wasn¡¯t present.


    Nic stood up, his pasta unfinished. ¡°I have to go do something. I¡¯ll meet you back at the cottage.¡± He left them eating and went back to the library.


    Dizzy wasn¡¯t there either. The whole place was eerily quiet, which was quite an achievement for a library. The librarian was busy behind his desk. There was definitely some in-depth research Nic needed to do on Ingreet, but there were other matters he had to deal with first. But he did want to confirm with Dizzy that Ingreet was a real thing, because the other possibility was somewhat disturbing.


    The girls¡¯ Upper Class dorms weren¡¯t too far and Nic hurried over there, eager to find Dizzy and have his suspicions put to rest. The woman in the reception booth looked up as he walked in through the double doors.


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d like to speak to Delzina Delcroix. Could you tell her Nic Tutt is here to see her?¡±


    ¡°Tutt, Tutt¡­¡± said the woman as she looked down at something. ¡°Ah, yes, I thought I recognised the name. I have instructions from Miss van Dastan not to let you in once it gets dark.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not here to see Simole,¡± said Nic, not liking the way the woman was looking at him. ¡°Could you tell Dizz¡­ Miss Delcroix I¡¯m here, please?¡±


    The woman didn¡¯t seem keen but it wasn¡¯t dark yet and the girls who were wandering around were not in their nightclothes yet.


    ¡°Wait in there.¡± She pointed to a door.


    There was a small visitor¡¯s room with two sofas and a table with four chairs. It didn¡¯t look like it was used very often. Nic sat down and waited.


    Simole appeared first. ¡°You¡¯re early, aren¡¯t you? I haven¡¯t even brushed my teeth yet.¡±


    Dizzy came in behind her. ¡°What do you want?¡±


    ¡°What do you know about Ingreet?¡± asked Nic, getting straight to the point.


    ¡°It¡¯s a language?¡± said Dizzy. It was clearly a question she hadn¡¯t been expecting.


    ¡°There¡¯s no such language,¡± said Simole.


    ¡°Yes, there is,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°It¡¯s just very old.¡±


    ¡°Say something in it, then,¡± said Simole.


    ¡°I¡­ I can¡¯t,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°I¡¯m not fluent in it.¡±


    ¡°Okay, but you would know a phrase or something,¡± said Simole. ¡°What can you tell me about it? Who¡¯s the expert? What books are the best ones on the subject?¡±


    Dizzy had a confounded look on her face. ¡°I¡­ I can¡¯t think of any.¡±


    ¡°Right, because there aren¡¯t any,¡± said Simole.


    ¡°I found a book in the library the Davo said was in Ingreet, but I¡¯d never heard of it. Are you saying someone made it up,¡± said Nic, ¡°and convinced everyone it¡¯s real? Like they did with Brill¡¯s brother?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Simole. ¡°Exactly the same person, I would guess.¡±


    ¡°Brillard doesn¡¯t have a brother,¡± said Dizzy.


    ¡°I know,¡± said Nic. ¡°It¡¯s a long story.¡± He turned back to Simole. ¡°But why? And why let me find information about shadow dragons in a language that doesn¡¯t exist?¡±


    Simole shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t know how demons think. I find it easier to ignore what they say and do and wait until they get in range. You can¡¯t trust them, Nic.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°You seem to do nothing but,¡± said Simole.


    Whether or not that was true, even if he was being toyed with, he had been given some sort of information about dragons, and dragons were the problem at the moment.


    ¡°If you want to know about shadow dragons,¡± said Simole, ¡°why don¡¯t you ask the expert on shades and shadowy creatures?¡±


    ¡°Who?¡± said Nic.


    Simole was looking past him at Dizzy. Nic turned around. Dizzy didn¡¯t look very pleased to have been excluded from the conversation up till now.


    ¡°I don¡¯t have any control over shades any more,¡± she said in a voice too level to be genuinely calm.


    ¡°No, but you did,¡± said Simole. ¡°Maybe you can help our boy better understand what he¡¯s dealing with.¡±


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you?¡± said Dizzy.


    ¡°If I did that, what would be the point of having you here?¡± said Simole, smiling.


    ¡°Are they made of the same thing?¡± asked Nic, quickly intervening. ¡°The shades your father made and these dragons?¡±


    ¡°He didn¡¯t make them,¡± said Dizzy.


    ¡°Then who?¡±


    ¡°My father,¡± said Simole. ¡°He¡¯s the only one who could have. Why he would give them to Dizzy¡¯s dad, I don¡¯t know.¡±


    ¡°And your father made the shadow dragons, too?¡± Nic asked Simole.


    ¡°Possibly,¡± said Simole. ¡°I can¡¯t really see it, though. He doesn¡¯t have that great an imagination, to be honest. Shapeless man-things is about as creative as he gets.¡±


    ¡°Could your father have made the dragons?¡± Nic asked Dizzy.


    ¡°No. I would have been aware of them.¡±


    ¡°Then¡­ the new minister, your fianc¨¦?¡±


    ¡°He isn¡¯t my fianc¨¦,¡± said Dizzy.


    ¡°He seemed to think he was,¡± said Simole. ¡°Be a bit odd if he just decided by himself.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s quite an odd person,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°Do you really think he would make dragons, though? For Gweur?¡±


    ¡°You know him better than we do,¡± said Simole.


    ¡°No, I don¡¯t. I always made sure to not spend any time around him if I could help it.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± asked Simole.


    The conversation between the girls was making Nic uncomfortable. ¡°First, can you tell me what you know about the shades your dad used? What are they made of? What¡¯s the best way to fight them?¡±


    ¡°The same things you use against anything else,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°They¡¯re stronger at night.¡±


    ¡°So light hurts them?¡± asked Nic.


    ¡°No,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°But they lose a lot of substance and go transparent. They find it hard to interact with things in direct light. They can manage alright in heavy shadow, though.¡±


    ¡°They go transparent?¡± said Nic. ¡°So they¡¯re still there, just harder to see?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Dizzy. ¡°They¡¯re still there. Harder to detect, even with magic.¡±


    Nic leaned back in the sofa and closed his eyes. He saw the world from above, the sun on its way to setting in the distance. He asked to see the location of any shadow dragons and saw nothing.


    ¡°Invert colours.¡±


    The world flipped before his eyes, dark to light and vice versa. He could see them now, dozens of them circling the capital.


    Nic sat up, eyes open. ¡°I know where they are. I have to tell someone.¡±


    He ran out of the room and slammed through the dorm¡¯s front entrance, ignoring the door lady¡¯s protests. He needed to find a Secret Service agent.


    The campus was quiet and still. There were no signs of any agents, but they were everywhere now. He would find one easily enough. He was about to close his eyes to locate the nearest one when a figure appeared beside him, wearing a red mask. He was about to tell him he needed a message sent, but something didn¡¯t seem quite right. Especially when the agent took off his mask.


    His face was surprisingly old. ¡°Hello, there. Nic, isn¡¯t it? I would have guessed anyway, you¡¯re the spit of your father.¡±


    Nic was taken aback, too surprised to hold his tongue. ¡°You¡­ knew my father?¡±


    ¡°Certainly. Best trainee I ever had. My name¡¯s Rutga, nice to meet you.¡± He smiled, but for some reason it sent a chill down Nic¡¯s spine.

 Book 2: Chapter Twenty Nine

    It wasn¡¯t normal to see an agent¡¯s face. They kept them on the whole time they were around people, probably even when they were off-duty. He had seen the Chief of Staff without his, but that was different ¡ª it was hard to even be in the same room as him when he was wearing his mask.


    But this agent had just whipped his off, as though it was something he felt was in the way. And then he had mentioned Nic¡¯s father, which was also surprising, and very distracting.


    Perhaps that explained the reveal ¡ª a family friend wanting Nic to know about their shared history. The man had a smile and none of the intimidation the other agents seemed to carry around like a brandished sword, but he did have cold, cold eyes that were hard for Nic to look into. Was that a trait shared by all agents?


    For a moment, Nic wondered if his father had been in the Secret Service. It seemed impossible. Nic¡¯s mother had said he was a regular soldier, had described his uniform, his medals, his sword. All of it was that of an infantryman.


    But then, wouldn¡¯t the Secret Service require you to keep your work secret? Even from your family? Up until now, Nic had just assumed they weren¡¯t allowed to get married or have children. It didn¡¯t sound implausible. But maybe a life of service to the crown with no personal life was something only a young boy would consider acceptable. To Nic, the idea of a wife and family felt so far away as to not even be a possibility. But he knew that would change.


    The area around the entrance to the girls¡¯ dorm was empty, no students, no porters, late afternoon and everyone busy or absent. It was just him, in a rush to find an agent, and the agent.


    There was no time to discuss his father, even though he had never met anyone who had worked with him or even known him. He was a mystery as far as friends and family. It had seemed normal, as all things did when you had no choice but to take what you were given.


    Nic looked up at the man who had said his name was Rutga. His first name? His last name? He was tall but slightly stooped, a man resting between battles. He had a soldier¡¯s face ¡ª scars that had browned with age into creases and ones that had formed welts on his neck, like someone had tried to hang him and decapitate him on several occasions.


    He was much older than he had expected an agent to look, but he had no real reason to think that way. A well-trained agent could be any age, as long as he could do the job.


    Nic shook his head and tried to focus on the matter at hand ¡ª the imminent attack on the capital. ¡°Sorry, I need to speak to someone in the Secret Service.¡±


    ¡°You can speak to me,¡± said the man.


    ¡°Dragons,¡± blurted out Nic, like that explained everything, the beginning and end of the story in one word. ¡°The capital.¡±


    Nic was stumbling over his words, his focus all over the place since he encountered this agent. He had been desperate to find one, had done so almost immediately, and now he couldn¡¯t even think straight, let alone put a sentence together.


    ¡°Yes, yes, we know all about it,¡± said the man. ¡°You don¡¯t have to worry about any of that. We have people taking care of it.¡±


    ¡°No, I mean, I know where they are, how they hide during the day. I need you to send a message to your commander. They need to warn the capital.¡±


    ¡°I see,¡± said the agent. ¡°Well, you better come with me then.¡± He smiled encouragingly, but it was an oddly artificial expression, a combination of muscle movements from an old memory. He put his mask back on his whole body changed, becoming straighter and more powerful.


    Nic had seen the effect before, with the Chief of Staff. The mask had a way of creating an entirely new persona.


    ¡°This way,¡± said the agent. He stepped forward to guide Nic, and Nic instinctively stepped back.


    He wasn¡¯t sure why he had done that. There was no threat coming from the man, his movements were actually quite gentle. But not in a way that was reassuring. It reminded Nic of a hunter trying to get close enough to his prey to make sure of the kill. Simply wring its neck with your bare hands and save the cost of an arrow.


    ¡°Who are you, really?¡± said Nic. Despite everything that clearly showed who this man was simply by looking at him, something felt off.


    ¡°I told you, Rutga. Sergeant-at-Arms. Listen, I¡¯ll be happy to give you all the answers you want, maybe even tell you a few stories about the old days, if you¡¯ve got the patience for an old man¡¯s rambling, but we have to go, right now.¡±


    There was no reason not to trust the man, but Nic¡¯s body refused to accept the invitation. He had to get a message to the capital, to the Chief of Staff. This man could be the easiest way to do that, but somehow Nic knew he wasn¡¯t. He couldn¡¯t explain it. He looked wrong in the uniform.


    Nic closed his eyes for a second, switch to the bird¡¯s eye view of the world, and asked to be shown all the Secret Service agents on school grounds.


    Lights appeared all around the school, all around but not near him.


    ¡°You aren¡¯t a Secret Service agent,¡± said Nic. ¡°You don¡¯t belong in that mask. Where did you get it?¡±


    Suddenly, Nic was sure the man had taken what he was wearing from someone who had not given it up willingly.


    ¡°No, you¡¯re right. I¡¯m borrowing this getup to avoid creating a fuss. In my line of work, you don¡¯t want to attract too much attention. Blend in and keep your head down, as I used to tell your father. Not that he ever listened. Now, let¡¯s not end up like him.¡±


    Rutga had his arm around Nic. He¡¯d closed the gap between them in an instant. If he was an old man as he claimed, as he had appeared, to be fair, then he was still a sprightly one. The pressure from his hand resting lightly on Nic¡¯s shoulder was irresistible. Nic found himself walking alongside the man in the mask, his feet moving of their own volition. There was no force being applied, no pressure, no shoving or pushing. But the urge to keep going with the forward momentum flowed through him.


    They were already around the corner, away from the sight of the main path, and away from the areas occupied by agents. This man seemed to have a map of his own, and he was using to stay clear of everyone Nic might hope to bump.


    ¡°Where are you taking me?¡± asked Nic, inexorably drawn into the next step and then the one after that. ¡°Who are you working for?¡±


    Rutga just smiled and nodded, his hand guiding Nic with the lightest of fingertip adjustments.


    This wasn¡¯t magic, but it was every bit as beguiling ¡ª a trick that was impressive no matter how it was done.


    ¡°I¡¯m here to help, Nic. You¡¯re worried about the capital, aren¡¯t you? That¡¯s where I¡¯m taking you. You¡¯ll be safe there, you can trust me. I wouldn¡¯t let anything bad happen to my old friend¡¯s boy.¡±


    For some reason, his words only made Nic more anxious. He wanted to break free and run, but he couldn¡¯t. It was like his muscles were locked into one set of movements. The one Rutga had chosen for him.


    They were headed into the trees, a small copse behind the dormitories. Nic had seen it often enough from above to know there was nothing in there, it just led to the outer wall.


    Nic tried to see where it was they were headed, and saw the carriage, completely black, almost a shadow with nothing to cast it. It had been there all the time, but he hadn¡¯t been able to see it, so well did it hide between the lines of the trees.


    How had it got here? There were no paths leading into these trees, no obvious route to get from the main path around the school to this out of the way corner. Yet, there it was, attached to four horses. The livery seemed familiar.


    Nic had a great sense of foreboding. He had no idea what was about to happen, only that his entire being told him to not go. But he had no idea how to stop it from happening. It was clear to him that there was no way he could outfight or outrun this man. He couldn¡¯t even walk in the opposite direction.


    But Nic had been in the presence of many imposing figures. Their sure knowledge of how intimidating they were to others often made them overconfident and lacking in due care when it came to securing their goals. It was a long shot, but what other options did he have?


    Nic took a breath, and pushed himself into the force making him move against his will. Accepted it, agreed with it, and moved forward quicker than he was being asked to.


    His willingness to cooperate took Nic away from Rutga¡¯s touch. He immediately turned and kicked out, hoping to strike Rutga in the ankle, maybe knock him off his feet or at the very least, cause him some pain so he wouldn¡¯t be able to chase him. Running seemed like the one thing the old man might not be too keen on.


    But Rutga simply lifted his foot and Nic¡¯s swipe went through without hitting anything. The lack of contact threw Nic off balance, making him almost fall. Rutga caught him, spun him, and brought him back to his feet, once more facing the direction he had been going, like he¡¯d never even thought of going any other way.


    ¡°No, no, Nic, not like that. If you were going to attempt something so direct, you should have done it immediately, outside the building. If you want to surprise someone, first surprise yourself. It¡¯s very easy to see a slow deliberation. A commotion might even have attracted some attention. Once you were back here where no one can see you, you needed a better plan, more information to work with. Wait until you can understand the options open to you.¡± He carefully guiding Nic between the trees so he didn¡¯t stumble.


    It was good advice. Rutga spoke in a genial, friendly manner. He seemed almost like a teacher. A good one ¡ª patient and willing to explain himself.This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    They were at the carriage now. There was a driver wrapped in a large black cloak. The carriage belonged to the Ministry for Instruction, Nic was sure. The door was open and the interior was dark. Rutga helped Nic up and placed him on the seat.


    ¡°How¡­ how did you know my father? In the army?¡± He has said ¡®trainee¡¯, did that mean they were comrades in arms? ¡°Were you his instructor?¡±


    ¡°More of a teacher,¡± said Rutga. ¡°Well, I tried my best. He wasn¡¯t that easy to teach.¡±


    ¡°He wasn¡¯t a good student?¡±


    ¡°Oh, he was the best. A fantastic student ¡ª maybe too good.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°Well, he was able to fit in anywhere, with anyone. Five minutes talking to someone he¡¯d never met before, and they were like old friends. He could watch a stranger and see the man for who he really was, what he¡¯d be interested in talking about, how to best approach him. Those sorts of things are fundamental to our line of work.¡±


    ¡°What line of work is that?¡±


    ¡°The securing of goals, making sure the right people make the right decisions.¡±


    They were moving, rocking slightly as the carriage passed over uneven ground. The windows were covered in black cloth so Nic couldn¡¯t see outside. Somehow, they were navigating between the trees, which seemed impossible.


    ¡°You aren¡¯t a Secret Service agent, are you?¡± said Nic.


    ¡°Not officially, no.¡± Rutga removed the mask and put it down on the seat next to him. He seemed glad to take it off. There was no transformation this time.


    ¡°You... kill people,¡± said Nic, seeing through the euphemisms easily enough, his own likely fate now much more obvious. ¡°My father was an assassin.¡±


    The carriage was moving more swiftly now, on firm, even ground. Would anyone notice them leaving the school?


    ¡°He was far more than that,¡± said Rutga. ¡°He could take a life, I¡¯m not going to deny that. But he could achieve the same objective by using persuasion and encouragement. Not through violence or threats, but simply by understanding what it was people really wanted. Not what they said or how they tried to present themselves, but what was in their heart. I can honestly say I¡¯ve never seen anything like it. I warned him he was allowing himself to get too close to his targets, but that¡¯s why I say he was so hard to teach. He could grasp an idea quicker than anyone, see the pros and cons, the structure, the flaws ¡ª things it had taken scholars hundreds of years to work out were immediately obvious to him ¡ª but then he went on and drew his own conclusion, went against the received wisdom, and sometimes also the received orders.¡±


    ¡°He was insubordinate?¡±


    ¡°I suppose you could call it that. I would say he reacted to new information while in the field. In some cases, he felt he could achieve the primary objective in a more effective, less invasive manner. Our superiors didn¡¯t always agree with his choices. But then, you can¡¯t fully understand a situation until you''re face to face with it, and by then, there isn¡¯t time to go back and discuss the new variables with those in charge. You have to make your call and live with the consequences.¡±


    ¡°Do you know how he died?¡± asked Nic.


    ¡°Ah, well, I wasn¡¯t there, so I can¡¯t say for sure. Probably not the way it was reported.¡±


    ¡°Was he considered a traitor?¡±


    ¡°What? No. How did you come to that conclusion? No, no, he was a true patriot, and no one who knew him would claim otherwise. Just because he was liable to the occasional bout of thinking for himself, don¡¯t for a second believe he wasn¡¯t acting in the best interests of our people. You have nothing to worry about on that score.¡±


    ¡°But he¡¯d be dangerous if he refused to do as he was told, wouldn¡¯t he?¡± said Nic. ¡°He¡¯d know where the bodies were buried. Probably buried most of them himself.¡±


    ¡°Ah, I suppose you could think of it like that, but he never went rogue. There was nowhere else to go, and he had his wife and a son on the way. He wouldn¡¯t put that at risk.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m serious about the dragons. I need to warn them I know where they are. I know how they hide from us during the day.¡±


    ¡°Do you now? Well, it¡¯s not really as important as you think. These shadow creatures, they aren¡¯t even real. They look much scarier than they are. It¡¯s all sleight of hand and illusion, you know? Nothing we can¡¯t handle.¡±


    ¡°You know about the shadow dragons?¡± said Nic. ¡°Do you work for the Ministry for Instruction?¡±


    ¡°I work for Ranvar, for the people, for their safety. Who gives the orders doesn¡¯t really matter. I do my job and we can all sleep safely at night, that¡¯s the important thing.¡±


    ¡°Did you work for Minister Delcroix before?¡± asked Nic.


    ¡°A fine gentleman, very good at his job.¡±


    ¡°Do you think Minister Carmine was qualified to take over?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re asking very tough questions. I¡¯m not the person to decide such things, I merely follow orders as best I can. No one is perfect, no one is incapable of making mistakes, but once we have our roles, we must do our best. It¡¯s far too easy to fail because of hesitation and doubt. Even the right idea will fail if executed poorly.¡±


    ¡°From what you say, my father didn¡¯t do that,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°Oh, he did. He very much did. Every action was executed brilliantly. It¡¯s just that it wasn¡¯t always the action he was asked to perform.¡± Rutga smiled, for once with genuine warmth.


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure I trust Minister Carmine,¡± said Nic, which was an incredibly ill-advised thing to say at the best of times. In a ministry carriage to a ministry employee, it might even be called stupid.


    ¡°Well, of course there are risks. There always are. That¡¯s the nature of the job. But you have to have a little faith, Nic. A young man trying his best, a man who has been trained and prepared for the role, he could just be unconventional, like your father.¡±


    ¡°My father died.¡±


    ¡°Yes, but only after many successes,¡± said Rutga.


    ¡°After you take¡­ care of me, had he given you any instructions about Minister Delcroix¡¯s daughter?¡±


    ¡°The young girl?¡± said Rutga, recognition in his voice. ¡°No, why would he?¡±


    ¡°He might be interested in her,¡± said Nic. ¡°More than he should be.¡±


    ¡°Well, I don¡¯t think you can blame him for that. Pretty thing.¡±


    ¡°You know her?¡±


    ¡°No, no, just by sight. The old minister had big plans for her, his heir apparent, he would call her. I don¡¯t think you need to worry about her. As I recall, she¡¯s very good at looking after herself. Don¡¯t go jumping to conclusions, Nic. I¡¯ve only been tasked with keeping you safe and away from danger. You don¡¯t need to take part in any more of this. You¡¯re free.¡±


    ¡°But the dragons¡­ people will die.¡±


    ¡°People always die. It¡¯s the ones left behind we need to care for. They can still have happy lives and carry on, there¡¯s no shame in that. A better life, in some cases. Isn¡¯t that what we all strive for?¡±


    Nic got the feeling there was no talking Rutga away from whatever he had planned. He was involved with the dragons, with Gweur¡­


    ¡°How does helping Gweur defeat our army make life better for Ranvar¡¯s people?¡± asked Nic. ¡°Do you really believe they intend to treat us kindly after what we¡¯ve done to them.¡±


    ¡°The Gweurvians are simple people. They will do as they¡¯re told, and their lives will be better than they were before. That¡¯s fair, isn¡¯t it? They improve, we improve, we all get a little better.¡±


    ¡°Except the people who died.¡±


    ¡°Of course. Sacrifices have to be made.¡±


    The carriage began to slow. In the dimness of the carriage, Nic could tell Rutga was surprised as they came to a stop.


    Rutga banged on the roof. ¡°What is it?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a group of Gweurvians,¡± said Nic, his eyes closed. ¡°Twelve of them, it looks like.¡± He opened his eyes to find Rutga staring at him, not quite so sure of himself. ¡°I think they¡¯re the riders of the shadow dragons. They can¡¯t be carried during the day when the dragons are fully formed, so they¡¯ve been hiding. I don¡¯t know how, but they can make themselves impossible to detect.¡±


    ¡°I see. I suppose I better see what they want. Stay here.¡± Rutga opened the door and exited.


    Nic immediately tried the door on the other side. As futile as it might be to attempt an escape, he wanted to be ready just in case an opportunity might present itself. But the doors were locked on both sides, and behind the black cloth, there was no window.


    ¡°We¡¯re here for the boy,¡± said a voice.


    ¡°Sorry, friend, there must be a miscommunication,¡± said Rutga. ¡°The boy is staying with me. That¡¯s what I¡¯ve been told, and that¡¯s how we¡¯ll be proceeding.¡±


    ¡°He comes with us, now,¡± said another voice. ¡°Do not get in the way.¡±


    Neither of the Gweurvian speakers sounded the least bit intimidated by Rutga.


    Nic closed his eyes and watched from above. It was starting to get dark, the sky still not showing any stars, but it wouldn¡¯t be long now. He could see the group of men in a loose triangular formation, a demanding wedge, two at the front confronting Rutga while the others watched and waited. They didn¡¯t appear to be armed, not with weapons.


    ¡°I have my orders,¡± said Rutga.


    ¡°Orders change,¡± said the Gweurvian. His eyes glowed blue.


    It was one against twelve, which weren¡¯t favourable odds to start with. But they were using magic, be it in a very crude form. That made it very unlikely Rutga would win this fight. He expected to be handed over. He wasn¡¯t sure what the Gwuervians would do with him and he would rather not find out. There might be a chance for him to get away from them, though.


    Rutga, it seemed, had other ideas.


    He leapt forward, crying out, ¡°Now!¡± as he hurled a stick at the nearest Gweurvian. It bounced off his forehead, sending him to the ground in a heap.


    The instruction was aimed at the coach driver, who had been huddled in his voluminous cloak until this moment. Now he threw off his swaddling and broke apart like bats rushing out of a cave at dusk.


    Shades, like the ones Dizzy had dealt with, came flying out of the discarded garment. They rushed to provide support for Rutga, who didn¡¯t look like he needed it. If Nic had thought he might have had a chance to outrun Rutga, he had been mistaken. The man moved with a swiftness and agility Nic had never seen, not even from the agents he¡¯d spent time with.


    The Gweurvians didn¡¯t react quite as readily as their posturing had intimated. They seemed unnerved by the shades, which were barely visible in the evening light, looking more like ghosts.


    The Gweuvian whose eyes had lit up, opened his mouth, which was filled with more blue light, but getting darker and more intense.


    Rutga rolled towards him and came up with the heel of his palm raised. He stuck the open-mouthed Gweurvian in the chin and slammed his jaw shut. His eyes widened for a second, and then his head exploded.


    A wave of energy shot out in all directions, flattening Rutga and the Gweurvians and shredding the shades into pieces.


    Nic felt the jolt in his mind and opened his eyes. He heard a click and tried the carriage door again. It was unlocked.


    He jumped out and ran away from the carnage. Rutga had tried to protect him, an unlikely thing to try if he planned to dispose of him in any case. Perhaps Nic had misjudged him. He would have liked to have asked him some more questions about his father, but this was his best chance at getting away, so he ran.


    He had seen where he was ¡ª nearly at the capital. From here, he could make it to the city in less than an hour, but it might already be too late. It was nearly dark enough for the shadow dragons to manifest fully. Although, they would be riderless.


    Nic scrambled to the top of a ridge and the lights of the city were visible in the distance. And above the city, dark shapes were taking form.


    He closed his eyes and reached out his mind, hoping to detect some kind of intent. If he knew what they had been told to do¡­ then what? He wasn¡¯t sure, but he couldn¡¯t think of anything else.


    He sensed them as empty minds, roaming with no purpose. Without the Gweurvians to guide them, they had no evil intentions. They would still cause panic in the populace if they were seen.


    Nic put himself inside the head of the largest one, saw through its eyes. He could feel the dragon¡¯s movements ¡ª it felt the same as when he had been inside a real dragon. He had been able to control that one, he tried the same here.


    The shadow dragon turned and Nic could see himself in the distance, the dragon¡¯s sight far superior to his own. It flew to him.

 Book 2: Chapter Thirty

    By this point, Nic was no stranger to dragons. He had encountered them in the most intimate terms possible, riding them from the inside. It had been an absorbing experience, his mind expanding to not just fill the dragon¡¯s mind but its entire body.


    He could still recall the feeling of having wings, of soaring on air currents, of having the weight of endless teeth in his mouth. To control a dragon, you had to be a dragon.


    The shadow dragon flying towards him now was something different. He was inside its head, looking through its eyes, but the sensation was limited to vision and nothing else. He was in control of its actions, but only by willing it. He wasn¡¯t moving wings or shifting weight to take advantage of the wind. If he wanted to fly in a particular direction, he thought about it and the dragon did so.


    It certainly looked like a dragon from the outside. It had the correct shape, if a little blurred at the edges like a watercolour painting on wet paper, but it also had the quality of a model built with all the correct parts but no real understanding of how things connected under the skin.


    Its creator would certainly know but seemed to have considered it unnecessary. Why make something accurate down to the last detail when it could serve its purpose with only a superficial similarity?


    It would take a lot more study to learn the nature of this thing, how it was made and what it could do.


    Nic could see it coming towards him while seeing himself from the dragon, the two opposing perspectives threatening to drive a wedge through the middle of his brain. There was a weird stretching and compressing of the world when his thoughts distracted him and then he returned to the present, so he did his best to not think too freely.


    It was disorienting if he allowed himself to lose focus, but at least it wasn¡¯t painful the way using this power had been whenever he was in close proximity to his real-world location at the start. He was making progress with this power, but every new application required even more intense concentration.


    Nic stood on the rise, the evening air gusting at him. He ignored the chill and remained fixed on what looked like a thick pall of smoke flying towards him, blotting out the stars in a wavering outline of wings. His eyes watered slightly as he held his stare, afraid of losing control if he blinked.


    Once he had a dragon at his disposal, he could go anywhere he wished, assuming he could ride it and be it at the same time. He had never been required to hold two states of being at the same time, but his concentration had always been good. This required him to be single-minded about being double-minded, which was an odd way to look at it. He knew he could do the first, and hoped the second wouldn¡¯t be beyond him.


    As the dragon shape grew larger and easier to discern, Nic also became aware of the other forms behind it. He put the number at eleven, although he kept losing count, his mind buckling if he tried to take too much in at once.


    For a moment, he thought he had somehow claimed all the dragons. With twelve dragons to do his bidding, what could he achieve then? But he realised the other dragons weren¡¯t following the first, they were chasing it.


    It was hard to tell if this was something they were doing of their own volition, or if the Gweurvians who had brought these beasts here were directing them to stop him. Did that mean Rutga was dead? At least unable to prevent the Gweurvians from acting. Nic still didn¡¯t understand why the man who had kidnapped him had gone to such lengths to prevent him being taken by his fellow conspirators.


    Nic didn¡¯t have time to ponder such thoughts right now, though.


    From what he had managed to ascertain so far, these shadow dragons weren¡¯t able to think for themselves. They could be left to exist as apparitions, but they didn¡¯t have the mental capacity to behave like true dragons, which themselves were only vessels for demons in transition.


    The dragons of Ranvar were basic creatures, able to sustain themselves through hunting and fighting like any other animal. These shadow dragons were one step beneath that kind of independence.


    The other shadow dragons were some way behind. Would they attack their brother? Would they attack him? The logical way for Nic to defend himself would be to command his dragon to attack the Gweurvians on the ground before their dragons could do the same to him. Without minds to guide them, they would be no more threatening than clouds.


    A mind intruded on his. He felt it slide into the same space in the dragon that he was occupying.


    It was one of the Gweurvians, he was sure. There was something about the mental force impinging on him that was familiar. Nic could even identify which of the men that had assailed the carriage was now trying to unseat him. He didn¡¯t need to know the man¡¯s name or have spoken to him, the shape of his mind just reflected who he was.


    The force was blunt and raw and like a shove in the back when you¡¯re running at full speed. It could send you toppling, or it could make you run faster.


    Nic absorbed it and let it pass through him and out again, carrying with it an emphatic: ¡°Stop.¡± The words made no sound but filled every available space.


    He sensed a hesitation, a wavering of the pressure being applied. ¡°My lady? Is that you?¡±


    The words didn¡¯t come with a voice. There was no male or female quality to them. Nic¡¯s words would have been equally genderless, he assumed. The man had mistaken him for the demon. Perhaps this was how she had communicated with them in the past. No one wouldn¡¯t expect someone like Nic to have such an ability, so it was reasonable for this man to think his true master had returned, the thought was driven by a wish for it to be true.


    Such wishes were the easiest to grant.


    These acolytes had lost their leader, their contact with something special, which had made them feel special. Ever since the demon had been taken from them, they had been desperate to reclaim that touchstone to the supernatural, as eager as Nic had been to get rid of it.


    But Nic had spent a great deal of time with the demon lodged inside his head. He had spent plenty of time trying to understand it, to find a way to overcome its threat to his sanity. He might have only partially succeeded, but he had gained a great deal of familiarity with the demon¡¯s nature. If he never truly learned how to beat it, all that examination meant he could certainly imitate its manner.


    ¡°Yes, my child. You must depart this place. Now.¡± A mixture of gentleness and overbearing authority, a touch of warm condescension, and some small indication that you¡¯d rather be anywhere than here.


    The words in their shared headspace held no specific tone or voice, but they could still carry an attitude, a way of seeing the world. Nic did his best to capture that side of the demon that best represented how she came across. Superior.


    ¡°You have returned to us?¡± The reverse was true, also. Without being able to hear the Gweur rebel¡¯s timbre or inflection, Nic could still sense the desperate hope, the craving for the possibility of his beloved leader¡¯s return.


    Here was something Nic could do. He could use his purely academic understanding of the demon, the insights that had done him little good against her, barely keeping him from perishing, and use that knowledge against these people instead.


    They were just as much victims of hers as he had been, perhaps still were. They had fallen foul of a being far more powerful than themselves, and had coped by accepting the inferiority, gratefully accepting a subservient role in a grand house. To serve was seen as a great privilege by them.


    It seemed little different to their submission to Ranvar, as far as Nic could tell, but perhaps kneeling to those who looked the same as you was more galling than bowing down before something alien and exotic. If so, then all Nic had to do was play the part. Their own need for a lord and master would do the rest.


    ¡°This child is mine. You will not touch him. He is the key that will open the door to a new era across this world.¡±


    ¡°He is the key?¡± The words were unmistakably jubilant. ¡°The key¡­ we have the key.¡±


    ¡°The key?¡±


    ¡°He is the key!¡±


    Voices joined in. They all sounded the same but Nic knew they were the other Gweurvians, their minds locked inside the other dragons.


    He had no idea what he was saying, other than it sounded like something the demon would say. The great thing about playing this role was that no one would question his meaning. Finally, the refusal to explain what they were after was working in his favour. The more vague he was, the more authentic he would seem. It was almost laughable.


    But Nic would still need to be careful. There were things the demon wouldn¡¯t do, like ask questions or demand explanations. Why would the all-knowing demon need to question her lowly subjects? Nic would need to be careful not to give himself away by trying to prise answers from these men, even though they probably had many of the ones he sought.


    For an instant, Nic¡¯s mind split into thirds, and he was able to see the carriage he had escaped from. The Gweurvians who had attempted to take him were now sitting on the ground, eyes closed. There was no sign of Rutga.


    The wrench inside his mind from seeing through his own eyes, the dragon¡¯s eyes and from above the Gweurvians, was almost too much to bear, and Nic felt his mind tearing. He let go of the multiplicity of perspectives and returned primarily to the dragon¡¯s.This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    There was excitement and joy at the edges of Nic¡¯s perception, his pursuers now his ardent devotees. He was becoming better attuned to the other dragons, or they were easier to sense now they had minds controlling them.


    ¡°Quiet, my children. Quiet your minds and know that your journey is near its end. Soon you will enter the promised land.¡± It was easy to do but he would have to be careful not to slip into mockery. He had to show restraint in his portrayal.


    There was no response but Nic could sense the buzz of anticipation. He had given them the thing they wanted most, and now they were his to command.


    A single dragon was as much as he¡¯d expected, but now he had twelve. What was he going to do with them?


    Nic opened his eyes and saw the dragon hovering above him. It wasn¡¯t flapping its wings. It wasn¡¯t moving, apart from a slight shimmer of its outline. Its eyes shone blue and looked at him the way a reflection looks back at you from a mirror.


    The first time Nic had seen these dragons as they flew over the border from the west, the Gweurvians had been riding them, straddling their backs. Now that he was seeing them up close, they looked too insubstantial to mount. Their bodies were made of what looked like a thick column of smoke. Any attempt to climb on its back would send you falling through the back mist, like jumping off a mountain and falling through low-lying clouds.


    But he had seen it, so it had to be possible.


    Shifting into the dragon¡¯s head as much as he could, he told it to pick him up. He wasn¡¯t sure how it would follow his instructions, but that hadn¡¯t posed a problem so far. It had flown here because he¡¯d wanted it to, he didn¡¯t seem to be required to understand the underlying mechanics.


    The dragon lowered towards him, settling over him like a bird coming down on its egg. Nic¡¯s instinct was to jump out of the way, but he resisted the urge and held his ground. The dragon passed through him and he could taste it; a bitter, metallic tingle on his tongue.


    He recognised the taste, he had consumed too much of it not to. Arcanum.


    The dragon sank into the ground, turning into a mist around Nic¡¯s feet, only its head still visible. And then it rose back up and Nic was lifted with it. His legs separated around the base of the neck and he was riding the beast even though the body offered nothing for him to hold onto. Only the spine running from nose to tail seemed to be solid. His hand passed through the rest, wet and cold to the touch.


    He was quickly high in the air, about treetop height. The other dragons circled overhead.


    Now he had to decide where to go. He had wanted to warn the city of the dragon invasion, thinking he could help pinpoint the creatures in the air. But now, the dragons were under his control and the Gweurvians believed he was their leader restored to her rightful place at their head.


    If he approached the city, they would see him as a threat, most likely. Either as an enemy of its defenders, or as a rival to its attackers.


    Who should he go to?


    It still wasn¡¯t clear to Nic who was working for the High-Father and who against. If these dragons were creations of the Ministry for Instruction, then Minister Carmine probably wouldn¡¯t appreciate Nic commandeering them.


    The Archmage, Nic had seen with the demon, so that pair were probably best avoided.


    The Secret Service had been infiltrated by at least one person, maybe more.


    Should he go directly to the Palace? And say what? He could bring them dragons, but how long would he remain in control of them once people knew?


    He could attach himself to the empty space inside a dragon¡¯s head, but he couldn¡¯t create one of these, nor could he vanquish it. But someone else could, possibly while Nic was sitting astride it, high in the sky.


    The only real advantage he seemed to have was the ability to take them away and prevent their use in the coming battle between Ranvar and its neighbours. Was that his best course of action? He still needed answers.


    Nic closed his eyes and searched for Rutga. He had known things Nic would like to question him about. Now seemed the ideal time to do so.


    He spotted him in the trees, already far from the carriage, making his way towards the capital, darting left and right through the trees. It was dark now, the forest a swarm of shadows, but Nic could see him clearly, a glowing figure standing out against a black backdrop.


    From the dragon¡¯s eyes, from his own, from the map of the world that now sat in his head ¡ª the three combined to form an all-encompassing view of Nic¡¯s surroundings, in every direction.


    It was getting easier to find what he wanted. It worked best when he had a clear idea of what that was. A single person was the ideal target.


    As Nic watched Rutga sprint at an even pace, he was also aware of the other eleven dragons behind him. Each now had a rider. He hadn¡¯t noticed that happen, his ability wasn¡¯t able to attract his attention towards things he should be aware of.


    This was the problem ¡ª he could see anything, but not everything.


    The dragons were hanging back, waiting for his instructions¡­ for her instructions.


    ¡°Wait here,¡± said Nic, careful to have the words come from the dragon. As far as they were concerned, Nic was just a captive, riding on the dragon because that¡¯s where he could be kept secure, a key in someone¡¯s pocket. They had been sent to fetch him, but the demon had come herself, confirming that their mission had been an important one, emphasising their importance for having been selected for it.


    All Nic had to do was to keep them convinced and they would gladly do whatever he asked of them.


    The dragon flew down through the trees. The wings spread out looked like they would collide with branches, but they passed through them with a whisper, the sound wind might make brushing across leaves.


    The dragon felt solid under him now. The night had given it its true form, a beast made of flesh and bone, or something that would be hard to distinguish from them. And yet, the edges seemed to be merely fumes left after an extinguished fire, and the whole thing felt like it might choose to stop being real at any moment.


    Nic¡¯s knees pressed hard into the dragon¡¯s neck. His hands gripped between what felt like scales ¡ª he didn¡¯t look down to make sure. His many eyes were on Rutga, a beacon in the forest.


    There was a clearing up ahead, some fallen trees and a pond. The water reflected the starlight and glittered. Rutga had rushed to the water¡¯s edge and was pulling something out on a long rope.


    The dragon swooped into the clearing as Rutga turned and stood. He had a dripping wet bag in his hands; stashed weapons, perhaps? Or maybe some other equipment for survival? Did a man like Rutga have many hidden caches like this in case of emergencies? How many would you need to have all around the kingdom to be sure of one being close by? Or did he prepare this one especially for this mission, knowing something like this might happen?


    For a moment, Nic wondered if all of this had been planned in advance. From the moment he had been dosed with Arcanum, poisoned to near-death, right up to the point where his increased resistance to Arcanum had made it possible for him to withstand the toxicity of these shadow dragons.


    Was he still just a pawn in someone else¡¯s game?


    It was hard not to second-guess himself, but not of much practical use. If your own choices were preordained, what could you do about it? Being tricked into genuinely wanting something was maddening.


    ¡°I wanted to ask you something,¡± said Nic. The dragon landed in the clearing. Nic tried to think of the best way to slide off the dragon¡¯s neck without tumbling to the ground in a heap. As he thought it, the resistance between his legs faded and he slid through the dragon, falling unnaturally slowly down through the dragon¡¯s chest. It was like descending a slide made of a material with too much friction to be exhilarating. Which suited Nic just fine.


    ¡°Ask away,¡± said Rutga, his eyes on the dragon.


    ¡°Why did you save me from those men? Aren¡¯t you on the same side?¡±


    Rutga¡¯s eyes slowly lowered to Nic¡¯s face. ¡°Well, no, I don¡¯t see it that way. Many¡¯s the time you ally yourself with another side in order to defeat a third. That doesn¡¯t make you brothers. And even if it did, you have to keep an eye on your own just as much as theirs.¡±


    Nic nodded. An alliance often broke down the moment their mutual interest was satisfied. You would need to make sure you hadn¡¯t given away any unnecessary advantages well before that point.


    ¡°I¡¯m only sorry I couldn¡¯t do a better job,¡± said Rutga. ¡°Seems like I was lucky the job took care of itself.¡± He grinned, throwing the bag over his shoulder.


    ¡°Aren¡¯t you going to try and take me to your master?¡± asked Nic.


    ¡°Doesn¡¯t seem much point,¡± said Rutga. ¡°I doubt you would let me.¡±


    ¡°Tell me,¡± said Nic, ¡°who¡¯s in charge of the Gweur rebels now? You must know that much about your allies.¡±


    Rutga gave Nic a quizzical look. ¡°Right now, it looks that would be you.¡± His eyes veered up again, and then from side to side.


    Nic turned and looked up at the dragons circling overhead. ¡°They only think I¡¯m their leader.¡±


    ¡°What difference does that make?¡± said Rutga. ¡°If they do as you command, then by all rights you are their leader.¡±


    Once again, Nic had the feeling he had been led to this point by a guiding hand. He didn¡¯t like the thought of his every move being controlled by an unseen power. In his case, it was impossible to tell who that might be ¡ª not because of how well hidden they were but because there were so many candidates.


    Nic stood in the clearing, seeing Rutga as a shadowy figure and also a bright candle in the dark, ever line clear as day.


    ¡°I would like to know more about my father,¡± said Nic, ¡°but I¡¯m afraid I might not like what I learn.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s true of any man, not just your father. You remind me a lot of him. He had the same way of doing nothing for the longest time, to the point you¡¯d think he¡¯d lost all interest in what he was supposed to be doing, and then he¡¯d leap into action, no longer needing to consider any option that appeared. It was like he¡¯d seen all the possibilities already.¡±


    ¡°But not the one leading to his death,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°No one sees that one coming, except the ones who welcome it. But he was also a man who took incredible risks. It wasn¡¯t surprising he eventually fell victim to a poor roll of the dice.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d like to speak to you about him, someday.¡±


    ¡°Aye, I¡¯d have no problem with that, assuming I¡¯m still around. It¡¯s hard to look too far ahead in my line of business.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve managed to survive this long,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°Aye, but for how much longer? That¡¯s always the question. You could kill me and there¡¯d be nothing I could do about it. I wouldn¡¯t even blame you.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not going to kill you,¡± said Nic.


    Rutga nodded. ¡°Mercy is a dangerous thing, Nic. Few people appreciate it enough to return the favour.¡±


    ¡°Was that my father¡¯s mistake?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. You¡¯d have to ask others about such things.¡±


    There was a howl from above them. Nic looked up as the dragons wheeling overhead, their dark shapes now appearing very clear against the night sky.


    When Nic looked back down, Rutga was gone. He wasn¡¯t surprised.


    The dragon sank down and picked up Nic. He didn¡¯t even have to ask, the connection between them was growing stronger.


    As they rose into the sky, Nic located Rutga, running again. Nic had many more questions, but Rutga was a professional. He would only reveal what he wanted to. It would be impossible for Nic to know if he was learning anything of value. He was almost sure anything he did find out, he would be given as a way to get him to do something.


    But Rutga would return to his master or to whoever it was he took orders from. And Nic would be there to see and hear them.


    The issue was to know where to look and when. There was so much going on, time spent in one place meant you missed what happened in another. But he was sure Rutga was going to have to report his night¡¯s endeavours to someone. Nic rose higher and higher, ready to start using this ability to its fullest.

 Book 2: Chapter Thirty One

    The air did not feel cold. Nic could sense the wind moving against his skin, through his hair, but it did not penetrate any further. It was like he had turned to stone. Or smoke.


    His mind was inside the shadow dragon, watching Rutga run. He was in the dragon, in himself, aware of the whole world -- but mostly he was in the dragon. It was the one place he didn¡¯t feel vulnerable. Or cold. It was the one place he didn¡¯t feel anything, not even scared at being so high above the ground.


    What was there to fear when you were a dragon?


    Realistically speaking, a lot of things, but they were easily overlooked when your body was ten metres long and your wings rested on the wind like it was a hand holding up a sword.


    The enormity of the power Nic now wielded flowed through him, not as an emotion but as a matter of fact. He didn¡¯t feel powerful, he was power manifest. Arcanum wasn¡¯t inside him like it was with a mage, he was inside Arcanum. And it was quite a calming experience.


    Rutga was hurrying through the forest below, moving surprisingly swiftly for someone who looked to be well into his middle-age. Fifty at least, Nic would have guessed, maybe older. Even without the map that showed him whatever he asked, the dragon¡¯s eyes were sharp enough to see the small figure darting between trees. When Nic did switch to the map view, Rutga lit up like he was on fire, burning white hot the way a blacksmith¡¯s metal did when it came out of the forge.


    Nic¡¯s plan was to wait and see where it was Rutga would go. The people he was connected to, the ones who worked under his command and the ones whose commands he followed, they would all reveal their secrets when they thought no one was observing them.


    It had taken Nic some time to think of how to use this ability the creature in the Librarium had given him, and even if this wasn¡¯t using it to its fullest potential, Nic could start to putting together exactly who was responsible for what.


    With so many people working with and against each other, it was hard to know who to trust. Not that any of them could be trusted completely, but it would help to at least know which of them were interested in the same end goal, even if who they wanted to be in charge at that point wasn¡¯t the same.


    It was fine for some internal struggle, the usual political jockeying for power in preparation for the calm after the storm, but there was a good chance that most of the people who claimed to want the best outcome for everyone were only interested in that best outcome if it was even better for them. And if not, why allow someone else to benefit?


    Nic had seen the sour grapes approach to world affairs in history book after history book. People who failed to get the position they wanted were always happy to let the preferred candidate fail miserably, and often assisted in their downfall. What was in the best interests of the majority was never particularly relevant to the minority who harboured the desire to rule over them.


    If Nic could map out the true intentions of the people involved in this business, the ones in Ranvar and the ones outside its borders trying to get in, he could start to decide who was best suited to lend assistance to.


    He was hardly a kingmaker, but if he was going to use this gift, he might as well do it on his own terms, which he preferred to be as well informed as possible.


    Rutga had been headed towards the capital, a journey that would take several hours even if he took no breaks for rest or water, which wasn¡¯t possible for man or beast. Now he was veering off into a gulley of some kind. There was a stream and what appeared to be a cave.


    Nic switched between different forms of vision. He saw the trees with glowing leaves, he saw water as glistening silver. Animals appeared in branches and in burrows. A horse was in the cave.


    Rutga was prepared for even this eventuality. A need to get to the city quickly with his carriage lost. The horse, unlike his other stashed provisions, must have been placed here recently. To be able to foresee a need so clearly suggested a man of huge experience or perhaps vast paranoia. In any case, he had proved himself prescient. He was on the horse and riding out of the cave in an instant, moving slowly at first, nimbly navigating the trees, then onto a trail that led to a road.


    Nic could see it all, watched fascinated. There was no hesitation in the man, no moment for reflection on what had happened so far, on where to go next. While Nic was routinely left in a state of near paralysis from not knowing what to do, Rutga was relentless in his pursuit of whatever it was he was pursuing.


    Nic¡¯s sight showed him the roads and the fastest route. The city was almost directly ahead of Rutga now. Where would he go when he got there?


    Nic snapped into himself, the boy¡¯s body that was his greatest handicap, and the night air¡¯s chill stung him. In his own body, he was just cold and precariously balanced on a monster made mostly of smoke.


    He looked around. The sky was endlessly starry, a few clouds drifting towards the west and behind him, the other dragons hovered.


    Their riders, the men from Gweur who had come to take Nic away, were patiently waiting. They believed the dragon was possessed by the demon who had inspired their revolt, and that the boy on its back was merely a prisoner, trapped in the air with nowhere to go. It was as much a prison as if he had been surrounded by bars.


    But Nic was controlling the dragon. He could order the others to do his bidding, and they would. As soon as he thought of something for them to do.


    He was wary of giving himself away, saying something that would make them suspicious. Even though the demon was beyond reproach for them, they still had certain expectations. Nic couldn¡¯t dither or be flustered when impersonating her. His fear of sounding like himself, a teenage boy, full of uncertainties, kept him from pushing his luck.


    But he needed them to go away or at least be kept busy. He certainly didn¡¯t want them to follow along, a proud escort to their lady of the shadows. He was nervous enough as it was without an audience.


    He urged the dragon forward, a thought was enough to do it. He sensed the others follow at a respectful distance.


    Should he send them off on a wild goose chase? Some contrived mission that would take them the rest of the night to complete? What sort of things would a demon ask of them?


    Nic flew against the wind, his draconic face merging with his own, and wondered how to keep eleven Gweur rebels busy.


    His attention was still on Rutga, now haring down the main road to the capital. Nic comforted himself with the thought that he had until the city walls to come up with something.


    But his hope for some uninterrupted contemplation was cut short by the sight of men up ahead, a barrier thrown across the road. A rapid series of switches in his viewing parameters showed Nic that there were sixteen of them, four horses, two wagons, the men in Ranvarian uniforms and heavily armed, and that they were alert and ready for combat.


    There was no lounging around. None of the men had the body language of people bored and disinterested. They gave the impression of people expecting hostilities and ready for it.


    Rutga was one of them, though. He had nothing to fear, assuming he had been truthful about that. He merely needed to identify himself and they would let him pass.


    He seemed unaware of the roadblock until he was nearly on top of it. There were cries to halt and make himself known. Rutga responded by veering off the road, into the trees. Half the men broke ranks and gave chase on foot, swords drawn. Two others had mounted their horses and were heading down the road at full speed, whipping their horses to make haste.


    The two horsemen split, one headed for the capital, the other onto a trail through the trees in an attempt to intercept the presumed enemy.


    Nic had no idea why Rutga hadn¡¯t identified himself. He could see Rutga clearly, a white shape on a green one, zig-zagging through the trees to get out of reach of the five yellow men chasing him. Nic was able to separate his targets into different colours, the men, the horses, the dragons and their riders. He could choose a group and highlight them for easier identification when he was following multiple targets.


    The important thing was to make his selections as unique as possible so there was no overlap. If he simply wanted people in Ranvarian uniform, then Rutga would look the same as the men pursuing him.


    If the same target satisfied more than one requirement, then they might shift between colours.


    When he was following a lot of targets, it sometimes felt as though his mind was pushing on the inside of his skull, trying to get out, but he was managing to keep everything on the inside, for now. His concentration seemed to be extra sharp when he was inside the dragon, which was probably not a coincidence.


    Nic would have preferred Rutga not to be caught. Whatever was making Rutga run, if he was captured, he would be taken away and it would take even longer before Nic would get a chance to see the conversation he was hoping to spy on. If it reached dawn, then he would no longer have the dragon, and he had no idea what would happen to the Gweurvians. Presumably, they would hide somewhere.


    ¡°Strafe the trees and make yourselves useful,¡± said Nic in his best demonic syntax. ¡°Scatter the soldiers, leave my prey.¡±


    He might have pushed it a little too much. He could sense the unease around him. Hopefully, it was more to do with the vagueness of his command than the possibility that they suspected he wasn¡¯t who they thought.


    The dragons swooped, buzzing the treetops, roaring in an ear-splitting screech.


    Nic watched the men panic, turning and stumbling, looking up. They wouldn¡¯t be able to see much more than dark shapes overhead, but that would be more than enough to give Rutga a chance to distance himself.


    Even though the men were on foot, a horse in densely wooded terrain couldn¡¯t move very fast. They had cut off the way back to the road and there was a steep cliff that would prevent Rutga¡¯s escape, unless he had also had the foresight to set up the world¡¯s longest ladder.


    Now that the men were spooked, Rutga, seemingly unperturbed by the winged shadows above, turned and made a run back around to the road.


    Nic turned his dragon to follow.


    ¡°Keep them occupied and give them stories to report when they return,¡± Nic commanded his ¡®followers¡¯ through their dragons.If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    Was there any reason not to just kill these soldiers? If there was war in the offing, then killing as many of the opposing side as possible would seem the opportune thing to do.


    Nic hoped that indicating there was a reason but not saying what it was, would be suitably demon-like. He didn¡¯t want to be responsible for the deaths of any Ranvarians. He didn¡¯t want to be responsible for the deaths of any Gweurvins, either.


    Rutga¡¯s horse was an impressive animal. Once it was back on the road, having circumvented the barricade, Rutga gave it its head and the animal burst forward.


    Far ahead, the other soldier who had ridden for the city was thundering along at a decent pace. For the soldier to be so quick to race back to the city suggested he had orders to raise the alarm at the first sign of an invader, even a solitary one. Which meant they had no real idea from which direction the enemy would attack. They knew they had been seen entering from the west when their country of origin was in the east, and that they had dragons. They could appear anywhere and only sharp eyes and early warnings would prevent a surprise attack.


    Nic could have told them exactly where the enemy were coming from, of course. He could even tell them numbers and armaments. But currently there were no armies bearing down on Ranvar City.


    Whatever the plan of attack, tonight was not the date of a full-scale invasion. What the dragons had been sent to achieve, he didn¡¯t know, but it would hardly be very demon-like of him to ask. It was probably the demon¡¯s plan in the first place.


    Rutga¡¯s steed was doing a remarkable job of catching the horse ahead of it. From high above, Nic watched the gap close between them.


    He could have intervened, driven the first rider off the road and into a ditch. But he was curious to see what Rutga planned to do. Would he kill the man, even though his warning of an enemy attack wouldn¡¯t be true? Or would it?


    For all Nic knew, Rutga was the vanguard of an invasion already in progress. Nic hadn¡¯t seen any evidence of that, but his ability only worked when he knew what to look for. The enemy could have moved across the border in small numbers over decades, and trained their children to overthrow their adopted rulers.


    It had been done that way before, although that was when most people lived in huts and farming was harder than hunting because you had to domesticate wild animals before they¡¯d let you milk them, and nobody had figured out how.


    Back then, whole tribes would move around in search for better living conditions, settling near each other, forming bonds and taking oaths of allegiance, eventually turning on one another when circumstances changed.


    Demons lived long enough to have come up with a long-term strategy. Nic doubted very much that things would proceed in the traditional troops-carrying-flags meeting on the battlefield.


    Rutga had caught up with the other rider now. The Ranvar messenger had realised he was not alone on the road to the capital and was urging his horse on faster. The horse seemed about ready to collapse. The rider drew his sword and had it ready.


    Rutga closed in, both hands on the reins, seemingly uninterested in his rival for the finishing line. His horse was still galloping at full speed, showing no signs of flagging. Once Rutga was past, it was unlikely he would be caught by the slower horse and rider.


    But the soldier wasn¡¯t about to give up first place so easily. As Rutga drew up alongside, the lead horse swerved towards him and the soldier thrust his sword out to the side.


    Rather than try to veer away, Rutga angled towards the attack, the two horses on the verge of colliding. At the same time, Rutga leaned back so the blade passed in front of him.


    With nothing to connect to, the force of the thrust caused the soldier to nearly fall out of his saddle. Rutga grabbed the man¡¯s wrist as it crossed in front of Rutga¡¯s chest, and yanked it, providing just enough extra weight to drag the soldier out of his stirrups and off his ride.


    The soldier fell between the two horses, letting go of the sword as he tried to grab onto something, anything, to save himself, but he failed and crashed into the road.


    At that speed, he would certainly have injured himself quite severely, possibly broken some bones, but he probably wouldn¡¯t die, unless he landed awkwardly. Nic saw him roll along for a bit and then come to a stop.


    Rutga, in the meantime, had lunged forward as soon as the man fell, and grabbed the bridle of the other horse. His own had not slowed, and without the weight of a rider, the other was able to keep up. Rutga didn¡¯t even look back as he raced on, now with a second horse.


    Nic kept pace with the trio, high enough to be unseen except by the keenest eyes searching the night sky. He followed Rutga¡¯s progress. The city was visible in the distance, a matter of minutes away.


    After about ten of those minutes, Rutga switched horses. He didn¡¯t slow down or adjust anything to make the transfer any easier. He simply pulled one leg up onto the saddle and pushed off just about high enough to skip across.


    He kept going for another ten minutes, and then switched back. He repeated this twice more before he approached the city gates.


    Nic was curious to see how Rutga would get past the city guards. The gate was manned even when there was no threat. At this time, there was bound to be an even larger presence. Rutga¡¯s actions so far had heavily indicated he didn¡¯t wish to be stopped and questioned, so how was he planning to get into the city?


    Nic was also wary of getting too close and giving himself away. Not only might there be people keeping watch for rumoured dragons, but the mages of the Royal College might sense the dragon¡¯s presence and consider it an enemy attacker. Being blown out of the sky by a fireball was not something Nic had much experience with, but he was fairly certain he wouldn¡¯t enjoy it.


    He took the dragon higher, up to the thin clouds that streaked the black sky. From here, the city looked ridiculously small and insignificant. Nic wrapped his arms around the dragon¡¯s neck and closed his eyes. His vision dropped down, searching for Rutga.


    For a moment, it seemed the man had disappeared. Then Nic saw him, the glow a solitary light between the south and east gates. The horses were no longer with him, and he was standing beneath the city wall. And then he was through it.


    Nic was still too high up to see how he did it. As his vision came down lower, Rutga was already in the city, moving quickly and in a straight line¡­ through buildings?


    No, under them. A tunnel, perhaps. A secret entrance into the city, and then a tunnel leading to where? The glow started to fade. Nic concentrated harder but to no avail.


    Lighter, smaller, gone.


    Nic opened his eyes as wet mist slapped him in the face. He hadn¡¯t felt it while his mind had been elsewhere.


    He had come all this way, patiently tracking the man who could lead him to the answers he was looking for, and he had disappeared right before his eyes.


    It was a risk to land so near the city but it was still very dark and it wasn¡¯t like he planned to walk in the front gate. If Rutga could walk through walls, why not Nic?


    The dragon landed in a copse near where Nic had seen Rutga. It came down in the middle of closely grouped trees, its wings passing through the branches without disturbing a single leaf. Real dragons couldn¡¯t do that.


    As soon as the dragon touched the ground, it dissipated, leaving Nic to complete the landing on his own. He managed to land on his feet with only a single step to steady himself.


    On the ground was a large chunk of blue Arcanum. Nic picked it up and put it in his pocket, where it vibrated slightly. It didn¡¯t feel particularly safe. He took it out and dug up a small piece of turf with a stick, and put the Arcanum under it.


    He had no idea how to resummon the dragon, or what to do with the Arcanum, so leaving it here for now seemed the best solution. It wasn¡¯t like he¡¯d have any trouble finding it again, his map view would show him exactly where it was buried. He looked around and made a mental note of the surroundings, though. Just in case.


    There was a large open area of grass between where he was and the wall where Rutga had entered the city. Sentries would be posted on the wall, many eyes keeping watch for enemies. Everything seemed peaceful, so he assumed no one had seen the dragon¡¯s descent.


    Nic moved quickly across the open area, head bowed and arms down by his side, hands in pockets, to hide the whiteness of his hands and face.


    He made it to the wall without anyone firing arrows or dropping boiling oil on his head. If Rutga had used this area, it stood to reason it was a blind spot or an area not considered in need of watching. The wall was very high and while it might technically be possible to climb it, the large overhang below the battlements would take a great deal of skill to overcome.


    There was no sign of a door, but that was hardly surprising for a secret entrance. Nic had his own way of finding the way in. He just asked.


    With his eyes closed, the entrance was easily visible, a rectangular outline formed from cracks where stones had been laid next to each other. He asked to be shown the opening mechanism, and there it was, a rock near his feet on the ground. He lifted it up, and rather than beetles, there was a metal ring. Nic pulled it, slowly walking backwards as a chain emerged from the ground.


    The entrance opened inwards. Nic let go of the ring and the chain slid silently back into the ground. Nic place the rock back where it had been and hurried into the opening.


    Once inside, he tried to look for the closing mechanism but nothing appeared. The stone door, which was not very thick, began to swing closed on its own. Nic stepped further into the tunnel as it closed, and found himself in total darkness. He began to feel his way forward, gingerly putting one foot in front of the other.


    A hole or steps could send him tumbling, so he was being extra careful. He stopped and closed his eyes and pulled his vision to him, so he was seeing the tunnel from the map. Now he could see everything clearly, bathed in blue light.


    The tunnel led straight, and then some shallow stairs went down for about thirty steps. Nic tried to see if Rutga was also in the tunnel, but there was no sign of him.


    The ground was damp and muddy and the walls were wet. Then there were more steps leading up and after that the ground became much harder, like it was paved with stone. The sound of running water came from somewhere below him and there was movement of air.


    Nic stopped. Up ahead was darkness. He couldn¡¯t see anything. He opened his eyes and it was also pitch black. Why was his sight not working? This was about where he had lost track of Rutga.


    Arms stretched out, Nic felt his way along, small hesitant steps again.


    He bumped into a wall and felt the rungs of a ladder. He began to climb.


    Nic was about to find out where Rutga had been headed. His guess was the Ministry for Instruction, but the general location was a bit too central. Perhaps there would be more tunnels and secret passages.


    Nic bumped his head on the roof. He raised a hand and pushed open a hatch. Light didn¡¯t exactly stream in but it was a little easier to see. He crawled out into what appeared to be a tool shed. Shovels and pickaxes and other digging instruments were leaning against the wall. There was a door with a latch on it. It was bolted shut. If Rutga had left through there, how had he locked it from the inside?


    There was nothing else here. A slightly musty smell, but not much more. Wherever this was, Nic had only one way to find out. He just hoped there wasn¡¯t a welcoming committee waiting for him.


    He pulled back the bolt as quietly as he could, which was still quite noisy, and opened the door.


    Six men in uniform looked at him. They seemed surprised, then angry, and then they were drawing their swords, demanding to know who he was.


    Nic raised his hands. ¡°I¡¯m not armed.¡± He wasn¡¯t sure how to explain his sudden appearance out of a shed. He wasn¡¯t even sure where he was. He stepped out and looked around. He recognised the large building next to him ¡ª the Librarium.


    ¡°Just what do you think you were doing in there?¡± said one of the soldiers. They were all of low rank, more surprised than threatened, but they weren¡¯t about to take any chances, even when faced by a single, unarmed boy.


    Nic couldn¡¯t think of anything to say other than the truth, and he knew that was a bad idea so he kept his mouth shut, hoping they might decide to let him go.


    ¡°He¡¯s with me,¡± said a voice.


    The men turned as Rutga approached, only he was dressed completely differently now, in a fancy uniform that denoted a much higher rank than when Nic had last seen him. The men all saluted.


    ¡°Yes, yes, at ease.¡± He sounded quite at ease himself. Was he really a general? Nic found it very hard to believe.


    ¡°What were you doing in there, my boy?¡± asked Rutga, his voice suitably pompous for his supposed rank. ¡°Did you throw up again?¡±


    ¡°Ah¡­¡± Nic wasn¡¯t sure what he was supposed to say to that. ¡°You said not to in the street.¡±


    ¡°So you did it in some workman¡¯s shack.¡± Rutga shook his head. ¡°I told your mother I¡¯d make a man of you, and so I shall. Come.¡± He indicated Nic to start moving. ¡°Gentleman, make sure no one cleans up the mess ¡ª this young man will be back in the morning to take care of it.¡±


    The men saluted again, some sympathetic looks thrown Nic¡¯s way.


    ¡°Follow me,¡± said Rutga. ¡°Time to build up a tolerance.¡±


    Nic followed, doing his best to look reluctant and confused. Not very difficult.


    Rutga led him around the corner to the rear of the Librarium.


    ¡°You know,¡± said Rutga in his normal voice, ¡°I¡¯m usually quite good at not being followed. Somehow you managed to find me ¡ª your father would be proud.¡±


    ¡°Did you really know him?¡± asked Nic.


    ¡°I did, but you don¡¯t have to believe it if you don¡¯t want to. It makes little difference now. Let¡¯s go inside.¡± He motioned towards the Librarium.


    ¡°In there?¡± said Nic. ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Because it seems everyone was wrong about you.¡± Rutga smiled. ¡°Everyone but me.¡±

 Week off (again)

    No new chapter today. Sorry, got a bit distracted with all the sport going on. To be fair, I did manage a run of six weeks since my last week off which is pretty impressive considering how much writing I''m doing. It almost feels like writing three series at the same time was a dumb idea and is atrophying my brain prematurely (it was bound to happen eventually).You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    Anyway, back next week, assuming I don''t have some sort of mental breakdown or war breaks out. The raid on Area 51 will be the cause and none of us will have guessed what''s really in there. I hope it''s some sort of zombie virus. It would be nice to think it was something we''ve been training for all our gaming lives.

 One more week

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    <div>


    <div>

 Book 2: Chapter Thirty Two

    There was a single, unassuming wooden door at the back of the Librarium. It was small but looked solid and unlikely to be open. The rest of the rear was stone and brick, with tall thin windows that started high up the walls.


    This was probably where the staff entered from in the mornings before the Librarium was open to the public.


    It was late and dark with not many people around. The soldiers Rutga had saved Nic from had seemed happy to hand Nic over into a superior¡¯s care, not even bothering to check the shack he had emerged from. The warning that there would be vomit inside probably informed that decision.


    Rutga went to the door and put a key into the keyhole just below the brass handle.


    ¡°You have a key to the Librarium?¡± said Nic, surprised. Here was a man who was capable of all manner of subterfuge and espionage, but the idea that he had his own key to the Librarium was by far the most shocking thing Nic had observed from him.


    Rutga looked over his shoulder at Nic, the smile on his lips barely visible. ¡°No, lad. They don¡¯t trust the likes of me with something that precious. What I have is a key to every lock, at least, every lock not specifically prepared for people like me.¡±


    There was a soft click and Rutga opened the door. Nic looked from side to side, his body stiffening at the very idea of what he was about to do. It wasn¡¯t like he hadn¡¯t broken into a library before, but this wasn¡¯t just any library. On top of which, there were things inside the Librarium which might not take kindly to intruders.


    ¡°Quickly, now,¡± said Rutga, holding the door open. ¡°You don¡¯t want to get caught out here.¡±


    Nic didn¡¯t want to get caught in there, either, but he pushed through his hesitation and entered the dark interior.


    The smell of the Librarium was instantly familiar to him and helped calm his nerves. It was the reassuring scent of books and paper that had kept his company for most of his childhood, although there were some other scents mixed in with them.


    The door closed and Rutga let out a heavy breath. ¡°That was close.¡±


    Nic didn¡¯t move as he waited for his eyes to adjust. There was enough light coming in from the thin windows either side of the door to be able to make out black shapes, but no more than that.


    Rutga pulled something out of his pocket which turned out to be a tinderbox. He lit a wick in the box¡¯s corner and held the small flame aloft.


    They were in a small room, an office with a desk, but with an unusually high ceiling. There was another door that presumably led into the Librarium.


    Rutga moved towards a lantern on the desktop and lit it. The room immediately revealed itself, sparsely furnished and with shelves and cabinets brimming and overflowing. Much work was done here, Nic could tell.


    Rutga blew out the flame and put the box back in his pocket. Then he took off his jacket, with its braids and ribbons, and turned it inside out. The reverse was the more mundane uniform of a Secret Service agent. He hung it off the back of the chair and sat down behind the desk.


    ¡°Phew. We can take a breather now. No one will bother us until morning.¡±


    ¡°You must have an extraordinary tailor,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Rutga. ¡°I have excellent taste in tradesmen despite my lowly background.¡± He grinned mischievously and looked around the room. ¡°This is the senior clerk¡¯s room. He¡¯s responsible for the accounting and keeping the place running smoothly, fiscally-speaking. A good man. Hard-working.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve been here before?¡± asked Nic.


    ¡°Sure, many times. I like it here, surrounded by books. I find it calming. And it¡¯s a very handy place to hide in the city at night. No one thinks to come in here to look for anyone. It has something of a sacrosanct reputation that comes in very handy, I¡¯ve found.¡±


    It did feel like they were breaking some sacred oath by being here, but Nic had assumed only he revered the Librarium in such a fashion. Him and maybe a few librarians. Perhaps it was a more common effect than he had realised.


    ¡°You just come in here to hide?¡±


    Rutga put his feet up on the desk, which made Nic uncomfortable.


    ¡°Hide, think, collect myself before whatever it is I need to do. Sometimes I even meet with people to get my instructions for some job or other. It¡¯s a very versatile location. Why don¡¯t you take a seat, there.¡± He pointed at the chair next to Nic. ¡°We should have a little chat, you and I. About this and that, the meaning of life and so on and so forth. Don¡¯t you think? A mutual exchange of information is what I propose.¡±


    Nic sat down. Rutga was being jovial and handling the situation in a very casual manner, which Nic was sure was an act. He wanted to put Nic at ease so he would be more likely to answer questions, most probably. Which was fine. Nic was happy to tell him whatever he wanted to know as long as he got some answers in return.


    ¡°Do you mind telling me where you were going to take me?¡± asked Nic.


    ¡°My instructions came from the Ministry for Instruction, rather aptly.¡± Rutga smiled, amused at his own wordplay. ¡°Your removal from the school was more or less a precaution. No one really thinks of you as a threat, as far as I can tell ¡ª I may not be the most well-informed person on such matters ¡ª but they do think of you as a bit of a nuisance. From the reports I¡¯ve seen, you do seem to crop in the most odd places.¡±


    ¡°There are reports about me?¡± said Nic, his mind already looking for ways to access them, possibly using his ability.


    ¡°Certainly. Quite a large dossier, although I don¡¯t know how much of it is factual and how much conjecture. I would have bet quite a lot on mostly the latter until tonight. Now, I¡¯m not so sure.¡±


    ¡°Outside,¡± said Nic, ¡°you said everyone was wrong about me apart from you.¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± said Rutga, ¡°perhaps I¡¯m flattering myself, but even though it did seem unbelievable, what they claim you¡¯ve done, they also have this idea that your actions are likely being controlled by others. I didn¡¯t believe that part.¡±


    ¡°That part may be the only thing that¡¯s true,¡± said Nic, rather glumly. ¡°I don¡¯t know why so many people want to influence my actions, but I seem to have become a popular target. I don¡¯t even know if my own feelings are real half the time.¡±


    ¡°No, my boy, don¡¯t you believe it. Your father¡¯s greatest quality was his ability to think for himself. Some would say it was also his greatest fault. I see so much of him in you, I can¡¯t accept for one moment that you would succumb to domination by another, no matter how powerful they might be.¡±


    Nic was a little thrown by this man¡¯s faith in a mere boy¡¯s fortitude under such extreme pressure. ¡°I¡¯m not sure why you would think that, but I don¡¯t think you¡¯re right. You can¡¯t be. I¡¯m constantly being forced to do things I don¡¯t want to.¡±


    ¡°Ah, that isn¡¯t what I meant,¡± said Rutga. ¡°We all find ourselves having to make compromises and doing things we regret. The sign of a free will is when you realise that. The mark of the weak-willed is when they allow themselves to be convinced what they are doing is correct and decent.¡±


    ¡°What difference does that make if you still end up doing it?¡± said Nic.


    ¡°More than you can possibly know. But you will. In the meantime, it¡¯s important for you to be able to carry on, I feel.¡±


    ¡°Carry on with what?¡± asked Nic.


    ¡°I can¡¯t rightly say,¡± said Rutga. ¡°With whatever it is that brought you here when you could have easily run back to safety. Why did you follow me?¡±


    It was a fair question. When you escape from someone attempting to abduct you, the normal reaction would be to get as far away from them as possible.


    ¡°I¡­ I wanted to know who it was you were working for. I mean, really working for. But I¡¯m still not sure. You say you work for the Ministry, but then you should be taking me to Minister Carmine right now. And you seemed to be in league with the people from Gweur, but you wouldn¡¯t hand me over to them.¡±


    ¡°Yes, I can see why you would be confused,¡± said Rutga. ¡°There are some parts I don¡¯t understand myself. But of this I¡¯m sure ¡ª you are part of this for good reason. Your decisions will affect the outcome and, I think, for the good of all of Ranvar.¡±


    Nic wasn¡¯t sure how to respond. It sounded utterly preposterous to him. ¡°You can¡¯t possibly know that.¡±


    ¡°True, it would be hard to prove. But in my line of business you sometimes have to let go of what you know and rely on what you feel.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know if I can do that,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°No one expects you to be sure,¡± said Rutga. ¡°A time will come when it¡¯ll be obvious. That was how it was for me, and for most others. You have to be a little patient.¡±


    ¡°And you let me go on that basis?¡± said Nic.


    ¡°Ha, not quite. You did have a little help from our Gweurvian friends. This isn¡¯t exactly how I envisioned us having this conversation, but sometimes you also have to let go of what you planned.¡±


    They sat there, opposite one another, in the yellow light of the lantern. From outside, there was the occasional shout or rumble of a passing carriage. The soldiers in the streets had been preparing for a fight, for dragons and an invading army, but none had materialised. Now they were restless and finding ways to ease the tension,


    ¡°Are you just going to stay here all night?¡± Nic asked. There was no indication Rutga had any other plans. No indication that he intended to take Nic anywhere, either. But Nic had a feeling the old man was here for a reason.


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Rutga. ¡°Until I receive orders otherwise.¡±


    ¡°How will they know where to send them?¡± asked Nic.


    ¡°Ah, you¡¯ve stumbled onto my clever ruse. They will find me when I¡¯m good and ready. That¡¯s part of the problem with being good at your job ¡ª people always want to give you more work. They¡¯ll take it away from others who they think aren¡¯t doing it well enough just to burden you a little more. You¡¯ll have to watch out for that as you get older, Nic. It might seem alright at first, you might even agree with their reasoning, but the more you take on, the more they¡¯ll keep giving you. You have to know your limits and then you have to impose them on your taskmasters.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure I¡¯ll get the chance,¡± said Nic. ¡°I suppose it will depend on what I¡¯m asked to do.¡±


    Rutga raised a hand to stop Nic. ¡°I speak only as an ignorant soldier, someone not qualified to question the intelligence of my superiors. This is the biggest difference between you and I, Nic. I¡¯m just someone who faithfully carries out orders. You, you¡¯re someone who always has to ask why.¡±


    ¡°But you aren¡¯t carrying out orders,¡± said Nic. ¡°You¡¯re sitting here.¡±


    ¡°I carried out my orders to the best of my ability, which is what I was chosen for. No one can achieve something they aren¡¯t capable of, after all. You can¡¯t order a man to fly and expect him to flap his arms and float into the sky.¡±


    Nic was getting the impression Rutga wasn¡¯t being entirely honest with him. He was happy to keep Nic here, but not willing to tell him why.


    ¡°I think you¡¯re going to get in trouble with Minister Carmine,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°That¡¯s alright,¡± said Rutga. ¡°It¡¯s very hard to discipline a man you¡¯ve trained to withstand all sorts of torture and punishment. Frankly, you only have yourself to blame.¡±


    ¡°What if they take it out on your family?¡±


    Rutga took his feet off the desk. ¡°There is that. Fortunately, I never found a woman I wanted to spend the rest of my days with. Lucky for her. I would have quite liked to, it¡¯s not that I enjoy the solitary life, but it never happened. Your father, now there was a man who found the perfect woman. He was always talking about how wonderful your mother is, how lucky he was to find her, you know, all that lovey-dovey nonsense. There were times I thought he was just doing it to aggravate me, but I think, honestly, he was just young and in love, which can make a man extremely annoying to be around.¡±


    Nic found it odd to hear someone talk about his father in such terms. He rarely heard anything about him other than what a fine soldier he had been, and then only because what else could you say about a dead soldier?


    ¡°I did look you know, for a wife, I mean. But I wasn¡¯t going to settle for just anyone. She had to be the person I saw myself with.¡±Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    ¡°You had a specific person in mind?¡± asked Nic. ¡°Someone you knew?¡±


    ¡°Not exactly. I had a picture of her in my head.¡±


    ¡°You dreamed her?¡± asked Nic. He hadn¡¯t expected Rutga to be such a romantic.


    Rutga nodded. ¡°All the time.¡± He stretched in the chair and repositioned himself to be more comfortable. ¡°I can see her quite clearly, even now. A girl ¡ª she remains the same age even as I get older ¡ª a girl so pure and delicate, nothing around her can contaminate her. But it can all harm her. Yes, everything around her can hurt her! She must be protected, cared for. You have to be willing to pay any price to shield her from a cruel and menacing world. I... I would¡­ ah, I¡¯ve got a clumsy tongue. I can¡¯t say anything clearly.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s Ranvar,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°I suppose she is now,¡± said Rutga with a laugh. ¡°You¡¯ve seen through my self-delusion as I only occasionally do. I had no girl to call my own, so I took on the biggest girl I could find. Some men are like that, they have particular tastes.¡±


    Nic smiled at the image of a large, nation-sized wife.


    ¡°But the girl I love needs someone better than a mere grunt like me. She needs someone¡­¡± He sighed. ¡°When I was a young man, there were leaders to look up to. Fearless men willing to sacrifice everything, including themselves, if that was what was required. They had unshakable principles and only cared for the well-being of their people. Not individuals, not family members ¡ª although I¡¯m sure they were included ¡ª but every citizen, even those not yet born. Especially them¡­ Such a shame.¡±


    ¡°What happened to them?¡±


    ¡°The same thing that happens to all great men. They grew old. For them, dwelling on the past and looking to the future became insufferable burdens, and since they were powerless to do anything about the present, their only option was to live out their waning years without thinking about anything. They lost interest in the only thing they ever cared about.¡±


    ¡°Isn¡¯t that the way it always happens?¡± asked Nic. ¡°Someone else comes along and takes over, don¡¯t they?¡±


    At this, Rutga, suddenly grew excited. He motioned for Nic to draw closer, and lowered his voice, as if afraid that someone would overhear.


    ¡°Yes, I ¡®m happy to hear you say it. I think the same. It¡¯s just a matter of finding him. Or her. You never know. Someone whose faith is rock-solid, who¡¯s farsighted and takes the action required when necessary, and acts with calm resolve. Precise and serious, but when there¡¯s a need they can go outside the lines and take extraordinary action.¡± Rutga sighed again. ¡°That¡¯s the sort of person we lack.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t we have great generals and battle-hardened warriors who will step up when the time comes?¡± asked Nic.


    ¡°The time has come and gone,¡± said Rutga, shaking his head. ¡°An old soldier without faith in victory is a sad sight to behold, is it not?¡±


    Something in Nic¡¯s mind caught fire. ¡°You¡¯re not thinking I might be this person, are you? Because of who my father was? Because I can assure you¡ª¡±


    ¡°No, no, lad. I¡¯ll know him when I see him.¡±


    ¡°Or her,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°Indeed.¡±


    They sat there for a while, Nic not knowing why he¡¯d come. It was something of an anti-climax. He was lost in his own thoughts for a while, and then looked up to note that Rutga had fallen asleep in his chair. The key he had used to gain entrance to the Librarium was on the desk.


    Nic leaned over and picked them up, his eyes on Rutga, ready to apologise, a list of excuse running through his mind. Rutga didn¡¯t wake.


    The Librarium was cool and dark, with squares of light occasionally rushing across the walls as the lanterns on top of passing carriages illuminated the skinny windows.


    Nic couldn¡¯t shake the feeling he was doing something wrong. He crept through the bookshelves on tiptoe, his breath held in case someone heard him. He knew no one was here and there was nothing to hide from, but that didn¡¯t stop his heart racing.


    People didn¡¯t sneak around in the dark for good reasons, generally.


    He reached the central staircase and made his way up. Each wooden step creaked far louder than any other time he had climbed them, he was sure.


    When most people behaved in a dubious manner, they justified it by exaggerating the importance of their goal ¡ª the ends justified the means. Nic would probably do the same, if caught. Wasn¡¯t the fate of Ranvar at stake?


    But in his heart, he knew that was nonsense. He was just playing the part of important person in world-changing events. He had always avoided the school drama club and now here he was, vying for the leading role. It wasn¡¯t a vocation he was qualified for.


    He remembered back in school ¡ª his old school ¡ª a teacher called Mr Kavensky who had taught him for high arts and monuments, a particularly subjective subject. His advice for exams where there was no correct answer was: decide what you¡¯d like the answer to be, and then draw out the evidence that makes it true.


    The lesson had served him well. Not only did it allow your examiner to evaluate the kind of person they were dealing with, it also provided an opportunity to convince them you were something other than what you truly were.


    A well-worded essay answer could be utterly baseless and still paint you in an impressive light.


    A subjective question wasn¡¯t looking for a correct answer, it was looking for a demonstration of character. It didn¡¯t have to be yours.


    Presenting yourself as something impressive and laudable was meant to be a good thing. Put your best foot forward, show yourself in a good light, first impressions count. No one ever suggested you should present an accurate portrayal of yourself. Even when they said, ¡°Be yourself,¡± they meant the version of you suitable for public consumption.


    Nic reached the top of the stairs, the sixth floor of the Librarium, and his anxiety eased a little. Being this high above street-level made him feel more secure, less likely to be heard or seen through a window. Not unless it was by someone flying past. That thought made his start fidgeting again.


    He moved quickly through the shelves, old and musty. Few people came up here during the day so it stood to good reason there would be even fewer around in the middle of the night. The deeper he went, away from the windows, the safer he felt.


    The door he was looking for was up ahead, simple and unassuming. Nic took out the key Rutga had given him and put it in the keyhole.


    It didn¡¯t seem to fit at first, too big to even go all the way in. But then something seemed to give way and the key shot forward, making a loud metallic clang. It wasn¡¯t actually very loud, it just felt like it. Nic froze for a second, listening for what? Rushing footsteps? He turned the key and the door opened.


    Inside the small chamber, it was pitch dark. Nic stepped inside and closed the door. He¡¯s had enough of his paranoid imagination and decided to get on with it. If there was a party waiting to ambush him, so be it.


    Even though he couldn¡¯t see anything, he remembered where the other door was. The room wasn¡¯t big enough to get lost in and he found the other door handle easily enough. The second keyhole took some feeling around to find, but there were only so many places doormakers put them.


    The second door opened and light flooded into the chamber blinding him for a second. He rushed in and shut the second door behind him, afraid some light might find its way out through any tiny gaps between door and doorframe or maybe through the keyhole. Even with the precaution of double doors it felt like someone might see a golden glow emanating from the top floor of the Librarium.


    The room was full of books in glass cases, but Nic ignored them. The glow was coming from them, providing enough light to see by. Nic scanned the floor for the trapdoor leading down to the creature¡¯s lair.


    He had been here before, seen the Librarian open it, could visualise where it had been, but finding it was trickier than he¡¯d anticipated. He was considering poking the key into every discernible crack until it somehow miraculously fit in one of them, but then he stopped and closed his eyes. He had the ability to be shown whatever he asked to see, so he asked to see the lock he was looking for.


    It took a moment for his mind¡¯s eye to settle inside the room, and then he could see the hole in the floor like it was made of white light. With his eyes still closed, he inserted the key and pulled open the door.


    It was heavy but there seemed to be a mechanism installed that helped make it easier to lift. Once it was open, the dark stairwell dropped away beneath him. A minor adjustment and Nic could see the steps clearly. He started the descent, eyes closed, no fear of losing his footing in the dark. If nothing else, this ability had given him excellent night vision.


    Nic hurried down to the bottom and arrived at the large archway that led into the white room where he had encountered the creature. He opened his eyes and the white walls ahead of him showed an empty room.


    He peered into the room, what he could see of it. The white light from the walls was bright and easy on the eyes but nothing like sunlight and more stark than anything from a lantern.


    ¡°Hello?¡± said Nic, voice low. There was no immediate response. He was reluctant to go in uninvited and also wary of raising his voice. He might not be heard from outside, but there were other people who might hear him. ¡°Hello?¡± He stepped forward, as far the archway without entering the room. ¡°You said it was alright if I came back.¡±


    Everything went dark.


    ¡°Yes,¡± said a voice in his head. ¡°I wasn¡¯t expecting you back so soon.¡±


    Nic was tempted to say it probably would have taken him longer if he knew what it was he was supposed to do, but he kept it to himself.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been getting used to the power you gave me,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°Yes,¡± said the creature, its voice coming from everywhere and nowhere. ¡°You have changed since we last met.¡±


    ¡°I have? In what way?¡±


    ¡°In many ways. You have flown shadow dragons. That isn¡¯t something most people are capable of. It isn¡¯t something you were capable of.¡±


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t that different from flying regular dragons,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°I assure you it is very different,¡± said the creature. ¡°To think they are the same shows how far you have come in so short a time. Good. You have already exceeded expectation.¡±


    ¡°What was your expectation?¡± asked Nic. ¡°What is it now?¡±


    ¡°My expectation was for you to remain uninvolved and disengaged, but you are here, of your own volition.¡±


    ¡°Not really,¡± said Nic. ¡°I was sort of abducted and got away and then followed my would-be kidnapper here. I stumbled back here by accident, to be honest.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said the creature. ¡°That is only how it appears. You chose to come here, and you chose to confront me.¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t say this is a confrontation.¡± Nic fervently hoped it wasn¡¯t.


    ¡°You want to know what you are meant to do now, do you not?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Nic. He couldn¡¯t deny that was true, it was just that he didn¡¯t think anyone would tell him, so he didn¡¯t see it as his goal. ¡°Are you going to tell me?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said the creature. ¡°You are meant to do whatever it is you decide to do.¡±


    Nic¡¯s heart sank a little. More vague answers that had no real meaning.


    ¡°On my world, the one the High-Father destroyed, the one the High-Father used me to destroy¡­ On that world, the people were already far in advance of this world even before the High-Father found them. They were proud of all they had accomplished, and they believed they were guided by a superior power that would not allow them to fail.¡±


    ¡°A superior power?¡± said Nic. ¡°They worshipped a deity of some kind?¡±


    ¡°You could think of it like that,¡± said the creature. ¡°Pastor Grey had a vision. Of death and destruction and a saviour that would come. He believed he was ordained to build that saviour, that he was being directed to create life, to become the image of his own creator by creating something he would breathe life into, and so he made me. Things did not work out as intended.¡±


    ¡°Pastor Grey?¡± said Nic. ¡°He made you?¡±


    ¡°Yes. He received a divine visitation and received instructions, this was the world into which I was born. The great mages of my world were not unlike the ones here, people of immense power and ability looking for ways to utilise their gifts. They lived mostly in the coldest regions, where their power was kept in check. Pastor Grey¡¯s efforts produced so much residual heat, the snow-covered area around his home was in perpetual spring. Flowers grew on every patch of grass, and within walking distance there would be tall banks of snow.¡±


    ¡°What were you created to save them from?¡± asked Nic.


    ¡°No one knew when my plans were first drawn. They didn¡¯t need to know. Their faith in me was total. Their faith in themselves, likewise. It was to be their undoing. When the High-Father arrived and offered them more power, they considered those that accepted to be heretics and had them killed. But others took their place. The most powerful rejected what they saw as temptation to lead them astray, but the slightly less powerful were ready to be promoted ¡ª they always are.¡±


    ¡°He set them against each other,¡± said Nic. It was an old tactic you didn¡¯t need to be a demon to employ.


    ¡°And it worked very well, for a time. But they were not so foolish that they couldn¡¯t see the danger. But they still refused to change their ways. Their confidence made them inflexible. They believed their higher power would intervene to save them, that I was the instrument sent to protect them, and so they became obstinate in their ways.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re saying their faith in themselves was unfounded?¡±


    ¡°No, it was perfectly justified. It wasn¡¯t enough, though. The High-Father never let them realise how hopelessly outmatched they were until it was too late.¡± The creature¡¯s voice had a lament to it.


    ¡°Do you think things will be any different this time?¡± asked Nic.


    ¡°I thought not,¡± said the creature. ¡°For the longest time I was satisfied with being a disinterested observer. There was nothing I could do to prevent other worlds from falling, it made no difference. But Winnum Roke convinced me otherwise.¡±


    ¡°How did she do that?¡±


    ¡°By suggesting something the High-Father would not be able to resist. A challenge he would accept because there he finds so few challenges. It took a mage from the mages and a demon from the demons and a human¡­ you¡­ from the mere humans. One of each. And then left to their own devices, he would allow them to prepare for the battle, unimpeded.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t understand,¡± said Nic. ¡°Why me? I¡¯m not special among my kind. I don¡¯t stand out. Surely there are others who are more qualified.¡±


    He had returned countless times to this question, looking at it from different angles, leaving it to sit in the back of his mind in the hope an answer would emerge from within. But try as he might, the reason he had been chosen refused to appear.


    ¡°Perhaps, but you were chosen from many. You were the one who did stand out. The quality you possess that none of the others had, that my entire world didn¡¯t have, is the ability to change your approach as required. You learn quickly, Nicolav Tutt.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think that¡¯s going to be enough,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°No,¡± said the creature. ¡°Probably not.¡±


    The darkness came to life. Below him, or so it seemed ¡ª in truth he felt the room still under his feet ¡ª was Ranvar, the world, dark but still visible.


    ¡°Here we are,¡± said the creature. The city lit up, it¡¯s already bright outline emphasised. ¡°And here are the Ranvarian troops.¡± Dots of light appeared around the edges, thousands of them. ¡°The Gweur troops. The allied nations¡¯ troops. The hidden armies waiting to pounce, once they see which side is winning.¡±


    Lights of different colours kept appearing across the map. The many factions involved, from the small rebel groups to the huge armies. It went on and on until the map was covered in swathes of colour.


    ¡°Why are you showing me all this?¡± said Nic.


    ¡°For you to see what there is,¡± said the creature. ¡°What you do with the information is up to you.¡±


    Nic looked at it. The different colours butted up against each other, a mix of paints on a canvas, pieces on a board.


    ¡°It¡¯s a game to him, isn¡¯t it?¡± said Nic. ¡°The way it¡¯s so well balanced. That can¡¯t be by accident. He wants it to be like this. He doesn¡¯t want an advantage, he wants to make it hard for himself.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said the creature. ¡°He is tired of winning too easily.¡±


    ¡°Then why doesn¡¯t he remove his advantage completely?¡± said Nic. ¡°He still holds the reins. He only allows us to be his equal. If he really wants to prove himself, let him choose a single champion, and we do the same, and let the victor claim the spoils. Not that he¡¯d agree to it.


    ¡°I agree,¡± said a new voice. The High-Father stood next to Nic. ¡°I agree to your terms. Who would you choose?¡±


    ¡°You do?¡± said Nic. ¡°Okay.¡± His mind was already racing to think of a champion for his side. Winnum Roke seemed like the ideal pick, but would he allow her. ¡°Winnum Roke?¡±


    ¡°An excellent choice. I agree.¡±


    ¡°You do?¡± There had to be a catch. ¡°And who do you pick?¡±


    ¡°Why, I pick you, Nic.¡±


    A catch, always a catch. ¡°Can I forfeit?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said the High-Father. ¡°But before you do that, let me show you what you¡¯re championing. Let me show you the world as it really is.¡±

 Schedule adjustment

    So... I''ve come up with this plan. Not going to post TGS today, will post it next week, but then I''ll have a buffer, so there won''t be any more delays.


    It''s the rush to compete a 5k chapter that''s draining me so this will fix that (maybe?). I can''t see another way of avoiding more missed updates.Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    Don''t know if this will work but I really can''t keep up the pace I''ve set otherwise and will have to switch to once every two weeks. Hopefully this will give me enough time to make up the time if I''m a bit late or distracted by IRL stuff.


    Let me know in comments if you have any views on the matter or talk to me on Discord. LINK</a> .


    Cheers.

 Book 2: Chapter Thirty Three

    The High-Father¡¯s face was framed by the darkness, his eyes glittering, his lips curled into a warm smile that didn¡¯t make Nic feel any better about the situation he was in. His appearance might have been that of a genial old man, a trim white beard, short grey-hair covering his scalp, but his presence was still very much that of the dragon he had once been.


    ¡°The story begins in a time before Ranvar existed as a singular nation, before the cities and the farms, when men survived using only the most basic tools, wooden implements being the norm, and rocks the most common weapon.¡±


    ¡°You were here, then?¡± asked Nic, wary of being tricked. Would he even be aware of it if he was? ¡°That sounds like a very long time ago.¡±


    The High-Father nodded.


    Pinpricks of light appeared around him. Stars and worlds circling the two of them. Between Nic and the High-Father was the world Nic was now familiar with from all angles. It was a small ball no bigger than a marble, but it was easy for him to recognise it.


    ¡°I was here. I came to observe, to see how you strange creatures lived and what, if anything, I might learn from you.¡± The High-Father¡¯s tone was soft and humble ¡ª not at all how Nic saw him. If this was an attempt to lull him into thinking he was speaking to a kindly uncle or grandpa, it would require a great deal more convincing.


    ¡°Your world was one of many I had visited, no more or less outstanding than the others. But on closer inspection, this world, this world was different. I watched a while, the men and women struggling to scratch a living from the earth with the tools they¡¯d made with their own hands,¡± said the High-Father, sounding like a history teacher, although Nic had never been taught anything from this far back. ¡°There was something about the people of this land, these hills and mountains you now call Ranvar, that caught my attention. They did not speak the language you speak now, they did not even look the same, their skin more pale and sallow. They looked sickly and ready to die if the hunting became scarce or the weather turned too cold. It would not be an exaggeration to say they were on the path to extinction, as a people. And they would not be missed.¡±


    ¡°Why do you say that?¡± asked Nic, feeling the need to defend his predecessors.


    He had never heard the original settlers of Ranvar spoken of in such disparaging terms. They had always been considered wild and aggressive, but hunters and warriors who fought against great odds and great enemies to establish the first unified tribes under a single banner that would one day be called the Kingdom of Ranvar.


    ¡°Because your people were considered vermin,¡± said the HIgh-Father. ¡°There were neighbouring tribes, far stronger, far more advanced in their development. Better tools, better weapons. They had domesticated animals, kept livestock rather than relied on hunting. They were tougher and bigger because they ate well and kept themselves clean, free of illness.¡±


    ¡°And the Ranvarians didn¡¯t?¡±


    ¡°No. They died quickly and often.¡±


    ¡°You make them sound like animals,¡± said Nic. ¡°No, not even animals are that incapable of taking care of themselves. If they were so weak, how did they manage to survive?¡±


    Nic was too interested in what he was being told to fear the situation he was in. What time was it? Already morning? Were the Librarium staff arriving for work? There were people searching for him, meaning him harm, most probably. None of that seemed very important right now. He was under the Librarium and no one was going to find him here.


    ¡°I wondered that myself,¡± said the High-Father. ¡°Your people should have been long dead before I happened to come across them. Long dead and forgotten. But they were not. They were stubborn and persistent, tenacious beyond reason. They would not make allies, they refused to be told what to do. They valued their freedom above all else and ignored threats that could have wiped them out.¡± The High-Father¡¯s expression was a mixture of admiration and also bewilderment. ¡°To prefer annihilation rather than bondage¡­ I had never witnessed such a thing. All societies value survival above all else. Slavery and tyranny are tolerated if it means a chance to continue living ¡ª but not with your forebears. It wasn¡¯t even arrogance ¡ª they had nothing to be arrogant about. If they had been forced to fight, they would have lost. It helped that they occupied a land so rough and wild that no one else had any interest in taking it from them.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s who you chose them to give your power to?¡± said Nic. ¡°Why? Because they were wild and reckless?¡±


    ¡°Not wild and reckless. Independent. They thought for themselves and made a point of taking the path others shied away from. I can¡¯t say I fully understood it, but I was fascinated by it and wished to see where it would take me. And here I am, still.¡± There was a sense of wonder from the High-Father, as though he couldn¡¯t quite believe it himself.


    ¡°They lived in the mountains?¡± asked Nic. This is what he had been told in school about the first tribes of Ranvar, but maybe that wasn¡¯t true, either.


    ¡°The mountains, yes. Inside them, in caves and tunnels. They came out to hunt and to forage. Their skin near grey from the lack of sun and their eyes squinting in even the weakest daylight.¡±


    ¡°And these were the people you chose to bestow power on?¡± asked Nic, finding the reasoning hard to accept. Why choose the most stubborn, unworthy, unjustifiably arrogant individuals who were close to extinction? Just to prove a point? Tempt them with power beyond their dreams and lure them into mindless servitude? It seemed a petty goal. ¡°Did you think it would prove your superiority, to subjugate the most defiant people you could find?¡± He was, he realised, a little angry about it.


    ¡°No, not at all,¡± said the High-Father. He smiled wistfully like he was recalling a fond memory. ¡°It was their perverse contrariness I valued. I wished to learn from it. You see, Nic, there are qualities that make no sense and come from unfathomable origins but they are all the more valuable for it. The universe is built on those qualities and learning to apply them can change everything.¡±


    ¡°Alright,¡± said Nic, not sure how to take in this information about the people he was descended from. ¡°I still don¡¯t see what that has to do with me. Or why you would want me to be your champion.¡±


    The word felt strange coming out of Nic¡¯s mouth. He was the one who had suggested the idea, to limit the war between men and demons that he could see coming to a much less destructive battle between two individuals. One representative for the humans, and one for the demons.


    At least that way fewer lives would be lost, and the results would be known far quicker than a war between thousands.


    It had been more or less an idle thought. A possible alternative that might be worth considering. He hadn¡¯t expected the High-Father to suddenly appear and accept the proposition without hesitation. Nor had he expected to be named one of the two champions. And even more of a surprise was to be chosen to represent the enemy!


    It was all very confusing. And now the High-Father wanted to make Nic a willing participant by recalling tales of ancient Ranvar.


    ¡°You are the obvious choice,¡± said the High-Father. ¡°I believe you will come to the same conclusion, that you are the appropriate person to take on this matter on behalf of myself. If not, you are welcome to forfeit. It will be my loss.¡±


    Nic shook his head. No sense at all. ¡°You seem very confident that I¡¯ll agree.¡±


    ¡°I am not,¡± said the High-Father. ¡°That is what makes it so exciting.¡± He grinned, not at all maliciously. ¡°The challenge begins with convincing you, and it only gets harder from there.¡±


    ¡°But you could simply make me do what you want,¡± said Nic. ¡°You could even make me think it was my own idea.¡±


    The High-Father raised a hand and waved away Nic¡¯s insinuation. ¡°That is how you have been treated so far, I am well aware of that. I would apologise to you, but it is not my place to do so. That was the approach taken by others ¡ª with my permission, admittedly, but not condoned.¡±


    ¡°What difference does that make?¡± said Nic. ¡°If you allowed it, then you condoned it.¡±


    ¡°I allowed those who I am responsible for to act as they saw fit. It was always this way and for good reason. If I am to raise them to their full potential, they must be allowed to find their own way, to make their own mistakes.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± said Nic. ¡°What are you trying to achieve?¡±


    The High-Father looked like he was about to say something but stopped to think it over, as though it was his first time considering such a question.


    ¡°You are doing well,¡± said a familiar if terrifying voice from the dark. It was the creature, who had been silent since the High-Father appearance. ¡°You are asking the right questions.¡±


    ¡°Am I?¡± said Nic. ¡°Have you asked these questions already? Do you know the answers? The real ones, I mean.¡±


    ¡°You think I would lie to you?¡± asked the High-Father, sounding slightly offended.


    ¡°It¡¯s not lying if there are many truths and you choose which one to tell,¡± said Nic. ¡°I know the power you put into your words, that you can recreate any reality you choose. It is what makes you so hard to understand ¡ª your lies aren¡¯t lies because you shift reality to make them true. It isn¡¯t very fair.¡±


    ¡°The truth isn¡¯t fair?¡± said the High-Father.


    ¡°Not when you can change it at will,¡± said Nic. ¡°Why do you even need us? You have so much power, you could do anything, go anywhere. Why waste your time with us?¡±


    ¡°Because infinite possibilities require fuel to power them,¡± said the High-Father. ¡°Where I came from, there is nothing left to draw from.¡±


    ¡°And where was that?¡± asked Nic. There was no reply but Nic wasn¡¯t going to let it lie. He might never get another chance like this one. After this, after he rejected the High-Father¡¯s offer (or even worse, accepted it), he would probably be used like wood in a fireplace, the kind of fuel that gets burned up and floats away as smoke and ash. He could at least satisfy his curiosity first. ¡°Where do you come from?¡±


    Nic didn¡¯t really expect an answer, not a coherent one. Maybe a vague allusion to a myth or fairytale that had no real meaning, or a hundred different ones.


    The tiny lights around them swirled and the world he recognised was replaced by an angry red ball.


    ¡°I was created in a place that no longer exists. Here, there was a world where this cloud of dust now resides.¡± The High-Father passed his hand through a small dust cloud, making it shimmer.


    It was a shockingly direct answer and Nic nearly forgot to follow up. If the High-Father was in the mood to talk, Nic wanted to get as much information out of him as possible.Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    ¡°By whom?¡± he said. ¡°Who created you?¡±


    ¡°Aini Ahlia. A man ¡ª not a man like you, not with two arms and two legs and a head with orifices, but something similar ¡ª only not. An existence living among many. Millions. Billions. They lived, they died, they loved and they reproduced, just like you ¡ª only not. Their world was a grand and magnificent globe of grand and magnificent minds. They were beings of incomparable capacity, always attempting to grow and expand their knowledge, their understanding, and their reach.¡±


    ¡°This man, Aini Ahlia, he created you?¡±


    ¡°He made a terrible and horrible discovery ¡ª he learned that a living mind could reshape space. Not just the space within its own imagination or in dreams, but in reality, in the space people existed within.¡±


    ¡°Why is that terrible and horrible?¡± asked Nic.


    ¡°Because the living mind had to be removed from the living being that housed it in order to achieve this shape-changing ability.¡±


    ¡°And he did that to himself?¡± asked Nic.


    ¡°No,¡± said the High-Father, shaking his head. ¡°No, no. Not to himself, to others. To experiment on himself would have brought his work to a very rapid close. Although his experiments on others were also quickly ended, with his execution.¡±


    Nic nodded. It seemed the appropriate punishment for a murderer.


    ¡°But they still had the minds,¡± said the High-Father.


    ¡°They weren¡¯t dead?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said the High-Father. ¡°They were alive and transformed, and in immeasurable pain. But to kill them as an act of mercy was not something that was deemed acceptable. An unseemly fate for his victims. Death was a far worse fate, for them, and reserved for criminals and madmen. After the execution of Aini Ahlia, people continued his work and found the parts of the mind responsible for reshaping reality.¡±


    ¡°They continued his experiments on the living minds?¡± Nic was dumbfounded. They had killed the man responsible for what was clearly a horrendous act on innocents, but were apparently willing to continue his work once the initial evil had been committed.


    ¡°It would have been a waste not to, or so they believed. It may seem to you that it is as cruel to meddle with an enslaved mind as it is to enslave it in the first place ¡ª and so it is ¡ª but the people of that word drew a rigid distinction between instigating and perpetuating. To them, it seemed right and compassionate.


    ¡°And so it came to pass that the discovery of minds that could change the shape of existence led to the discovery that the minds themselves could be reshaped and bring into existence a new being.¡±


    ¡°You?¡± asked Nic.


    ¡°Eventually, yes,¡± said the High-Father. ¡°But not at first. First, they had to sacrifice the minds and combine them into one. They coalesced and grafted and welded with heat and pain. Pain is a powerful glue that can bind things together for aeons. A torrent of discordant colours and textures flooded my senses when I first awoke, my screams went unheard but gradually the pain ebbed away until I was left trembling on its shore.¡±


    Nic couldn¡¯t help but be horrified. He understood that he was hearing about an entirely different culture to his own, as different as birds to fish or lizards to lions, but the idea of treating people as ingredients in an experiment, to be mixed and stirred, did not fit well with him.


    ¡°And you were the result?¡±


    ¡°Eventually, yes,¡± said the High-Father, taking pleasure in Nic¡¯s discomfort, although perhaps he imagined that. ¡°The minds combined had the effect of displacing reality altogether. The whole world became unglued and what was once a large bowl with a little bit of everything, turned into a soup. From which I slowly emerged. I had the memories and conceptual awareness of the beings that had birthed me, but there was so much else to learn. This was a very long time ago.¡±


    The High-Father smiled, his story told. Nic didn¡¯t feel the shift in perception that came with the other stories he had been told by demons. This had felt simple and unembellished, although perhaps that was because the storyteller was far more accomplished at subtle changes.


    Nic wasn¡¯t sure what to do with all this information. He had asked where the High-Father had come from and he had been given the answer. It had changed nothing. Perhaps he had asked the wrong question.


    ¡°And you were alone?¡± asked Nic.


    ¡°Yes. At first, my gaze was inward, wondering who I was, what I was, and then outwards, as I contemplated the silent stars. The joy of being, the pure unadulterated joy of existing, the beauty and grace I was surrounded by, it was enough, at first ¡ª when you listen carefully, you find the universe hums gently to itself. The novelty eventually wore off, and I began to explore.¡±


    ¡°How?¡± asked Nic. ¡°How did you move from your world?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t,¡± said the High-Father. ¡°I am still there. And I am here. It¡¯s the distance between them that changed.¡±


    ¡°But the ship,¡± said Nic. ¡°The place where you sent Winnum Roke, where the crea¡­¡± He stumbled on the word, not wanting to use such an anonymous term for the creature, but not knowing what else to call it.


    ¡°The ship enabled others to travel with me,¡± said the High-Father. ¡°It is a fine vessel and very useful, able to cover unimaginable distances.¡±


    ¡°But you could change those distances with a thought,¡± said Nic. ¡°Couldn¡¯t you?¡±


    He was struggling to understand what the High-Father was truly after. He seemed to be omnipotent, able to remould stardust into whatever he wished. So why was he here? What could he possibly learn from anyone?


    ¡°I could, but then what?¡± The High-Father waved his hand around as though the answer might be somewhere within the spinning stars surrounding him but their exact location was a mystery. ¡°This into that, that into this. If you can change anything into anything, then everything is the same.¡±


    Nic tried to piece together what the High-Father was getting at. Here he was, a being of limitless power and he was what? Bored?


    No, that wasn¡¯t it. He was searching for something, and he needed the help of others to find it. What could anyone possibly offer the High-Father that he didn¡¯t already have or couldn¡¯t conjure up with a snap of his fingers?


    ¡°You created the demons,¡± said Nic. ¡°How? Are they a part of you?¡±


    ¡°As you are a part of your parents,¡± said the High-Father.


    ¡°And the All-Mother? Where did she come from?¡± Nic had only heard of the name, there had been no specific mention of who she was or what she could do.


    ¡°I created her and together we created our children.¡±


    ¡°And then you wanted them to grow and become like¡­¡± It dawned on Nic what it was the High-Father was seeking. ¡°You wanted them to have free will, to make their own choices.¡±


    The High-Father¡¯s eyes lit up and his smile spread across his face. ¡°Yes, that¡¯s it. To be their own masters.¡±


    ¡°Couldn¡¯t you just give it to them?¡± asked Nic. ¡°Make them have it?¡±


    ¡°No. I could make them think their will was their own but they would simply be carrying out my instructions.¡±


    ¡°But they wouldn¡¯t know any different,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°But I would.¡±


    ¡°So you do have free will. How?¡±


    ¡°Aini Ahlia was an intellect beyond reckoning. I have the collected memories of his entire world, but not his.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a shame they killed him, then,¡± said Nic.


    The High-Father laughed. ¡°Indeed, a great shame.¡±


    ¡°I think I understand,¡± said Nic, ¡°more or less. You want your creations to be able to think and choose for themselves. Even though they have enormous powers, they are still just an extension of you. You took them to various places so they could grow and learn. You brought them here and merged them with us, so they could acquire greed and desire and selfishness, or whatever it is that give us our desire to follow our own path. Aren¡¯t your efforts already a success? The demon who came to me, she seemed very much to have her own agenda.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said the High-Father, ¡°I¡¯m afraid not. She was carrying out my instructions, but in her own time and manner. It is not quite there, but close, very close. This world has brought me closest to my goal.¡±


    ¡°But Winnum Roke tried to stop you.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said the High-Father. ¡°But more than that, she wished to challenge me as an equal. And to do that she would need to create a being of comparable power.¡±


    ¡°How would she do that without¡­¡± Nic felt dizzy with the realisation that had hit him. ¡°Without¡­ she wanted to recreate the experiment that created you?¡±


    ¡°That is what she wished.¡±


    ¡°The minds of the people of this world?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°I¡­ I don¡¯t believe she would do that.¡±


    ¡°You could ask her yourself,¡± said the High-Father. ¡°She won¡¯t deny it. She sees it as the only path to victory. She may even be correct.¡±


    ¡°I am correct,¡± said a voice that had recently resided in Nic¡¯s mind.


    ¡°You aren¡¯t the real Winnum Roke,¡± said Nic, looking around the starry sky he was surrounded by.


    ¡°I know how she thinks,¡± said the disembodied voice, ¡°and I know this is the only path we have left. It is not a matter of choice, it is a matter of having no other good options.¡±


    ¡°She made you,¡± said Nic. ¡°A version of herself. Like how the High-Father made his demons.¡± Nic could see it now, the similarity between the two. Winnum Roke may have been appalled and disgusted by what the High-Father had done, but she was still willing to follow his example. Willing to go to whatever lengths.


    ¡°What do you think, Nic?¡± said the High-Father.


    ¡°I¡­ I¡­¡± Nic didn¡¯t know what to think. He didn¡¯t want it to be true. He didn¡¯t want it to be possible. But what if it were? ¡°You allowed this to happen. You gave them the task to defeat you by any means they wished. You wanted them to grow beyond you, and that¡¯s what they¡¯re doing. By destroying you, and us in the process. You want this to happen.¡±


    ¡°I do not want this to happen,¡± said the High-Father, ¡°but I do want them to evolve. And evolution requires conflict. Winnum Roke was inspired to a new way of thinking, a darker way. But the cost is going to be very high, and very bloody. Will you stop her?¡±


    Nic was at a loss. It was a lot to take in. Even if he did want to avoid the destruction of his world, how would he go about it? Winnum Roke was very nearly as powerful as the High-Father. And all Nic had was a very detailed map in his head.


    ¡°What about you?¡± said Nic into the darkness. ¡°Do you want my world to end the same as yours?¡±


    ¡°It is not my choice,¡± said the creatures rumbling voice. ¡°This is not my world. But if he isn¡¯t stopped here, other worlds will fall to him, just as others have before. You are a single step on his journey to wean his children. There will be countless more before he is satisfied.¡±


    It was a staggering thought. Winnum Roke had come to the conclusion that the only way to stop the High-Father was to create an equal and opposite force to oppose him, which made sense. And she was willing to sacrifice her own people to create that force, which didn¡¯t.


    ¡°I still don¡¯t see what I can do about any of this,¡± said Nic, feeling weary from the weight of so many impossible thoughts. There was nothing to cling onto, no rhyme nor reason. ¡°What can I do?¡±


    ¡°I do not know,¡± said the High-Father. ¡°Which is why I am keen to see what you will do.¡±


    ¡°Because I have free will?¡±


    ¡°Because you have your free will. Others have tried to mould you to their will, to use you as a convenient tool. I don¡¯t think their ambition was any greater than that or you, but you have learned from the experience. The punishment they delivered to you was a great teacher. Your weakness forced you to take steps no one else would have, because they wouldn¡¯t need to. With great power comes great complacency.¡±


    ¡°Aren¡¯t there others who could challenge Winnum Roke?¡± asked Nic.


    ¡°Many,¡± said the High-Father. ¡°But none who are powerful enough to defeat her, and all are too powerful to try any other way. And even if they did manage it, most likely they would only replace her. The path she has chosen leads to power far beyond what they have now.¡±


    ¡°It leads to you,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°Yes,¡± said the High-Father. ¡°And who would want another me?¡±


    ¡°I think I¡¯d like to speak to Winnum Roke,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°Again?¡± said the High-Father.


    ¡°No, not her. I mean the real one.¡±


    The High-Father considered the request. Then he nodded and said, ¡°I can arrange that but you should know that the moment she realises you are her prospective opponent, she is likely to remove you as a threat. Even if you have no intention of going against her, it will still be the safer choice for her. Are you ready to face her in that case?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said Nic. ¡°I don¡¯t think I am. Can¡¯t I just speak to her?¡±


    ¡°The door is closed. The only way is to open it and I have given my word I will not be the one to do so. Nor can I tell you how to go about it. And once you do open it, should you find a method, there will be no way to make sure she doesn¡¯t attack you. How would you like to proceed?¡±


    Nic wasn¡¯t sure he did want to proceed. Leaving things as they were wasn¡¯t much use, either. War was inevitable and he suspected the reasons behind the war were to do with the plan the High-Father had mentioned. A large gathering of people would be the ideal time to strip them of their minds and create a being to challenge him.


    Nic wanted to speak to Winnum Roke directly and confirm what the High-Father had said was true. He didn¡¯t think he was being lied to, but you didn¡¯t have to lie to hide the truth.


    ¡°I can take you to her,¡± said the creature.

 Book 2: Chapter Thirty Four

    When Acting-Minister for Instruction Mol Carmine came to, he found himself standing in the middle of the orchard at the back of his family¡¯s estate. Dawn was breaking and he was naked. The cold morning mist smelled of damp and ash; it reminded him strongly of his childhood. He shivered.


    Birds called to each other in the distance, none daring to perch in the fruit trees. Nests were regularly removed and the estate¡¯s hawks patrolled the perimeter.


    The fog in his head was quickly dissipating and the chill across his body became more noticeable. He had been a sleepwalker as a child, doors and windows needing to be locked to prevent him from harming himself. He had long outgrown that phase, or so he had thought, but that didn¡¯t explain why no one had stopped him, or why they hadn¡¯t noticed his absence.


    Navigating his way through the house, down the stairs and out into the grounds must have made some noise at the very least. Someone must have heard or seen him, and it would be obvious something was amiss.


    The household staff were usually prescient enough to not need instructing on such matters, well-trained by having seen what happened to those who failed to measure up to his exacting standards. Another lesson would need to be taught, he decided.


    There was a bitter taste on his tongue and his hand was holding onto something very tightly. He brought his clenched fist up to his face. He was squeezing a small, empty glass bottle in his cold, numb hand.


    The bottle looked vaguely familiar, the remnants of a red liquid smeared across the transparent sides. He licked his lips and the memory of a taste passed down his throat. He had no recollection of drinking the contents, but clearly he had. While sleepwalking? That would be new ¡ª he had never managed anything that complex when he was a child.


    Carmine took a deep breath and let a stream of white air out of his mouth. He looked around to get his bearings, and then set off towards the gate that led to the garden path. The kitchen door was probably the best route back into the house in his current state of undress. The dewy ground felt uncomfortable under his bare feet.


    It was shady in the orchard and the lines of yellow sunlight streaking through the leafy boughs offered very little warmth. A sudden darkness crossed his mind and he thought he was about to pass out. Was he ill? He squeezed the vial tighter.


    A darker shadow passed over him, but this one was not inside his mind. It flitted through the trees.


    ¡°My master, I come to report as instructed,¡± it whispered rather gloomily.


    ¡°What? Who¡¯s there?¡±


    For a moment Carmine was chilled on the inside, but the moment passed. He remembered this was his inheritance, power over these dark creatures. He looked down at the vial again. This was also part of it, this concoction that made him their master. As was the loss of memory and fogginess that came with it. He would have to be careful lest his other childhood ailments were also resurrected. That would not be at all good.


    ¡°Yes, report. Where is Rutga? Does he have the boy?¡±


    ¡°We do not know.¡±


    ¡°Where is the boy now?¡±


    ¡°We do not know?


    ¡°Where is Rutga.¡±


    ¡°We do not know.¡±


    Carmine was taken by surprise by the last answer ¡ª although none of them had pleased him ¡ª and he almost tripped over a tree root. He stopped and raised his foot, one hand planted on the tree trunk, and rubbed his wet toes. He remained still, his eyes closed gathering his thoughts.


    ¡°How is that possible?¡± he asked calmly. ¡°I sent you to keep an eye on them, didn¡¯t I?¡±


    ¡°Yes, my master,¡± said the shade from somewhere behind him. It liked to remain in the corner of his eye.


    ¡°Where did you see them last?¡±


    ¡°At the school with the children,¡± hissed the whispery voice.


    ¡°And then?¡±


    ¡°Gone. Hidden. Taken. Chased away. We were chased away.¡±


    ¡°By whom?¡± said Carmine.


    ¡°The scion.¡±


    ¡°Who?¡±


    ¡°The late master¡¯s daughter¡­¡± The voice drifted away like a sigh.


    ¡°I see,¡± said Carmine. It wasn¡¯t surprising that she would be aware of these clandestine creatures that no one else would have noticed. Delzina would have encountered them before, been familiar with them, know how to deal with them. She was a very accomplished girl. It was what drew him to her. It was why they would make a fine couple, he was sure.


    ¡°Very well,¡± he said, ¡°Miss Delcroix is to be left alone. Do not engage her or provoke her.¡±


    ¡°It will be as you say, my master.¡±


    There was almost a tenderness bordering on relief in the shade¡¯s voice. He must have imagined it, Carmine told himself.


    ¡°You must search for the boy, scour the school.¡±


    ¡°It has been done. The result was failure.¡±


    ¡°The Secret Service, perhaps they have him?¡±


    ¡°They do not.¡±


    If they said they¡¯d looked for him and couldn¡¯t find him, he was inclined to believe it. They had never failed him before but there was a good chance the boy wasn¡¯t acting alone. Carmine knew there were others also watching the boy, it was why he was watching him.


    Where had he gone? If he wasn¡¯t on the school grounds, he can¡¯t have gone far. Rutga was supposed to have secured the boy and taken him to a safe location. Perhaps he had. But then why wouldn¡¯t the shades know?


    No, something else had happened, something unforeseen. Whatever it was, he would have to find out. It was his job, after all.


    He suddenly noticed that all his muscles ached, as if after hard labour. He stretched his arms and rolled his shoulders. It was nothing, he told himself. The pressure of his new position had nothing to do with it. A little tension was to be expected. War was in the offing, nothing was going to happen smoothly. There would be hitches.


    The shade moved between the trees, watching. It didn¡¯t make Carmine self-conscious. These creatures weren¡¯t judgmental, they just did what you asked of them, did their job.


    ¡°I want you to locate Rutga. Search the city, all his known hideouts and regular haunts. Make him your first priority.¡±


    ¡°As you wish, my master¡­¡± The voice faded into the distance.


    If the boy had been whisked away by some powerful entity, kept somewhere away from prying eyes, then it would be hard to track him down. Rutga was another matter. Once he was found, he could at least give an idea of what happened. After which, he would be appropriately punished.


    Carmine walked out of the orchard and bright sunshine washed over him. The house loomed before him, the tower on one side and the dome of his father¡¯s observatory on the other. He took another deep breath of cold damp air and headed home.


    As he made his way through the vegetables in the small plot outside the kitchen, Shavay, the old gardener, came out of the shed carrying a basket. He saw his young master walking nude among the cabbages and lettuces and stood there gawking and grinning stupidly.


    Carmine lost control of himself for a moment and scowled. His face must have taken on a rather terrifying appearance because the gardener shied away, grin frozen like the rictus smile on a corpse, and hurriedly ducked back into the safety of his shed.


    Carmine calmed himself and entered the kitchen via the back door which wasn¡¯t locked. The cook and two of the maids were in there. He was sure they noticed him but no one said a word, including him. He went up to his room and washed up.


    By the time he came down for breakfast, Carmine was feeling much more composed. He ate his breakfast while going through his mail, none of which was very important. There would be reports waiting for him at the Ministry.


    He had the carriage brought round and gave the housekeeper instructions for the day. She nodded and betrayed nothing by her eyes, but no doubt she already knew about Carmine¡¯s early morning jaunt. She had been with the family from before Carmine had been born, so she knew about his history regarding nocturnal outings. He could trust her to be discreet. The others, though, would most likely chatter and spread gossip. He would make them regret it, but he didn¡¯t have the time right now.


    The black carriage was waiting for him at the front door and Carmine climbed in, adjusting his clothes as he sat down. He was dressed in much the same way as his predecessor, who he had greatly admired ¡ª no flash over substance, no cheap attempts at attracting attention ¡ª and he felt comfortable taking his place. He might have been young but he was more than capable.


    ¡°What did you do with Nic?¡± said a feminine voice from the opposite seat.


    The voice startled him, more from its unexpected appearance than any perceived threat. It was the voice of a child.


    He looked more intently at the shadows that, now that he focused, were unnaturally dark. They dissipated and the Archmage¡¯s daughter was sitting there in her school uniform, legs crossed, no sign of any apprehension on her face.


    ¡°Miss van Dastan,¡± he said, making sure to sound unperturbed. ¡°This is a surprise. May I call you Simole?¡±


    ¡°You can call me whatever you want,¡± she said. ¡°Where is Nic?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I don¡¯t know.¡± He knew she was a very capable mage and not someone to trifle with, not without preparation. But he was being honest with her. If she could identify a lie, she wouldn¡¯t be able to in this case. ¡°Are you saying he¡¯s no longer at the school?¡±


    Simole¡¯s eyes narrowed. She seemed to be making an assessment. He had the feeling she didn¡¯t like him very much. That was fine. She was a teenage girl who didn¡¯t get along with her father. She was bound to regard all men with a degree of suspicion.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t take him? I know you sent those pets of yours to watch him.¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t call them pets,¡± said Carmine, ¡°but yes, I did. For his own safety¡­ and also for the safety of everyone. He seems to have become unexpectedly central to proceedings. I¡¯m new in the job, so I have yet to make a determination as to why.¡±


    ¡°Good luck with that.¡±


    Carmine kept his smile inside. Apparently, it wasn¡¯t just grown men she had a scepticism towards. Perhaps he could use this to his advantage.


    ¡°In any case,¡± he continued, ¡°they have lost track of him, too. Which leads me to believe he has either been taken or willingly went with someone very powerful.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Simole. ¡°Probably.¡±


    ¡°Do you know who that might be?¡± He asked. ¡°Perhaps your father? They¡¯re fairly close, I understand.¡±


    Little Simole¡¯s eyes burned with what Carmine would call a mild fury, if such a thing could be said to exist.


    ¡°No, not him,¡± she said, her voice flat and disinterested. ¡°Never mind, then. Sorry to have bothered you.¡±


    Before he could say anything else, she opened the door to the moving carriage and jumped out, slamming it shut behind her. By the time Carmine lowered the window and looked out, there was no sign of her.


    ***


    Carmine walked purposefully through the main entrance of the Ministry for Instruction, the guards stationed on either side of the doorway nodding respectfully in his direction. Only a few months ago, he had been another one of many adjuncts to Minister Delcroix. Now he was the master of all he surveyed.


    He walked past door after door, some leading to offices, others to less welcoming rooms. Beneath the Ministry was a labyrinth of endless corridors and passages holding some of the most reprehensible people in the kingdom. People who were considered too dangerous for regular incarceration in one of His Majesty¡¯s prisons.


    In his old office, which had been a dark and dusty room with barred narrow windows, he had occasionally heard the excruciating wails of men, and sometimes women, from below.


    ¡°Help me!¡±


    ¡°Save me!¡±


    ¡°I am innocent. Innocent!¡±


    The tunnels spread out under the other ministries on either side and behind this building, but no one dared go down to see what the noises might be.


    Some people claimed there were no longer prisoners held at the Ministry, the voices were the ghosts of those who had died under torture in a previous, more barbaric age. Carmine had evidence to the contrary.


    As Carmine approached the double-doors of his office, a guardsman on sentry duty stepped forwards, his spear ready. ¡°You may go no further,¡± he declared sullenly.


    Carmine didn¡¯t recognise the soldier. Stationed here because of the war, told not to let anyone pass without the correct authorisation.


    ¡°You¡¯re new?¡± he said sympathetically. ¡°You¡¯re doing your duty, that¡¯s commendable, but you need to be a little more circumspect in how you go about it. Causing offence to someone in a higher position won¡¯t do you any good. No good at all.¡±


    The guard, still tightly gripping the shaft of his spear, looked a little confused. ¡°Better a little trouble than to let an enemy of the state through. You don¡¯t have a ministry insignia. Everyone has to wear theirs under the current orders of the acting-minister.¡±


    It was an accurate and valid point. At least the man took his duties seriously. Carmine had left his official insignia of office ¡ª a rather gauche medallion worn around the neck on a heavy gold chain ¡ª at home. He didn¡¯t like it and didn¡¯t feel the need to wear it. His staff all knew who he was. His regular staff.


    ¡°Quite right ¡ª my fault entirely. Why don¡¯t we both go to my office and verify who I am with my assistant?¡±


    The guard thought it over for a moment. ¡°No, you¡¯ll have to go home and get it. If you have one.¡±


    Carmine¡¯s patience was running thin. He had tried to be civil with the man, but he was a little too officious for his own good. There were cells down below full of people like him, people who had decided they knew better than their betters. The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    ¡°I don¡¯t have time for this.¡± He pushed the guard aside with a simple shove. He was a little shorter than the man, but he had been trained to a much higher level of combat. The guard went flying back, thumping into the wall.


    He would have to have the man reprimanded, even though he wasn¡¯t to blame. Such confusions happened during wartime, they still needed to be dealt with.


    Carmine heard the hurried patter of running boots behind him. He turned around, ready to really let him have it this time, but it was his assistant, Stodar, running towards him, holding a folder tied with ribbon.


    ¡°Minister, there you are. I tried to intercept you in your carriage but you had already exited and taken the other route to your office. My apologies.¡±


    ¡°What is it, Stodar? What couldn¡¯t wait?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a summons from the palace. All ministers. I¡¯ve gathered the overnight reports for you.¡± Stodar wasn¡¯t even out of breath. Had the man really run all the way to the stables to inform him? He dismissed the thought as irrelevant.


    ¡°Thank you.¡± Carmine took the folder and started walking back towards the exit. ¡°This man,¡± he said, pointing at the bewildered-looking guard, ¡°have him reassigned to external duty. And make sure he¡¯s paired with one of our regulars. Can¡¯t have a man inside the Ministry who doesn¡¯t know who anyone is.¡±


    Stodar gave the guard a piercing glare and the man blushed. He hadn¡¯t reacted like that under Carmine¡¯s glare. He would have to learn that ability.


    ***


    The ride to the palace was a short one and Carmine only had enough time to browse through the reports Stodar had prepared. They told him nothing new.


    Enemy forces were remaining in position, ready to move at a moment¡¯s notice. The Gweurvians were in charge, at least nominally, and they hadn¡¯t given the go-ahead. What they were waiting for? If he could deduce that much, they would at least have something to work towards.


    Carmine walked into the main assembly hall to be met with a barrage of angry shouting and accusations. The room was long and thin with a table with eight chairs ¡ª nine, actually, but the ninth was never filled.


    A full assembly was rare, usually only called at times of celebration or to mark the passing of a revered personage. And occasionally to deal with a matter of grave importance, although such things were usually decided by the cabinet members, those in the eight chairs.


    Seven were currently filled, with the other ministers standing behind the ministers they were most closely allied with. Thirty-two ministries were represented, including the most insignificant and pointless ones that were little more than cosmetic. The Ministry for Swamps and Floodplains (which hadn¡¯t been active in over a hundred years since the swamps had been reclaimed as farmland and the floodplains were protected by levees), the Ministry for Mining Rights (the rights all being owned by the royal family of Ranvar, but appearances needed to be maintained), the Ministry for Carriages (whose regulations hadn¡¯t required changing since its creation), and so on.


    Some ministries served a purpose but held no particular civic responsibility. The Ministry for the Defence of the King¡¯s Good Name was very active but rarely did the minister in charge attend anything other than the most obligatory assemblies. He was currently standing behind Minister for War Reshvay, watching the other ministers with a keen eye. Taking mental notes to jot down later, most probably.


    Only a few hundred years ago, the Royal Court had been a place of debate and thoughtful interactions. That all changed when a group who had fought to give the southern marsh region more autonomy had attempted to assassinate the Leader of the Chamber, a staunch loyalist. Under torture, they had confessed their ultimate goal to overthrow the monarchy and were hung in the central plaza. The assembly was soon after reduced in number and filled with bootlickers and sycophants, although the history books would describe them as more closely aligned with the king. There was still room for discussion, none for dissent.


    Things had changed little since then, the room for compromise a thin sliver it would be hard to get your fingers through.


    The cabinet ministers were hunched over, leaning across to each other, whispering their thoughts to one another, ignoring their inconsequential fellows.


    Most people only remembered the major ministries, because there was no real reason to know more. Carmine had memorised all the different ministries when he was a child. His goal had always been to rise to a position of importance in one of them, even though his family was not well connected politically. His idea was to choose one of the lesser ones and transform it into a force to be reckoned with. But fate had intervened, and now he was the one being transformed.


    ¡°This is an outrage,¡± said a rotund, bald man Carmine recognised as the Minister for Inns and Taverns, although he couldn¡¯t immediately recall his name. ¡°We are practically defenceless while all around us the jackals sharpen their knives.¡± His body pitched forward in sympathetic momentum with his words, nearly sending him over the chairs in front of him if not for the men either side of him holding him back.


    ¡°Jackals don¡¯t use knives,¡± said an elderly man Carmine seemed to recall was the Minister for Fish and Game. He was seated on a chair pulled back from the table to indicate he wasn¡¯t part of the cabinet, but his age required he sit. His knees were far apart with his cane between them, resting both hands on top.


    ¡°This is hardly the time to be pedantic. Why isn¡¯t something being done? These low, ungrateful tracts of mud think they can challenge us? They need to be shown their place.¡±


    There was a round of harrumphing and a general mood of dissatisfaction.


    Carmine took a seat at the table, the only empty one, squeezing in between two lanky men who saw who they were now positioned behind and made their way to other parts of the table.


    ¡°Here now,¡± said someone to Carmine¡¯s left. ¡°Here¡¯s the man who can provide us with answers. The Minister for Instruction.¡±


    ¡°Acting-minister,¡± said someone from Carmine¡¯s right.


    All heads turned to look at him. Carmine took a moment to pour himself some water from the carafe on the table. He knew full well they didn¡¯t see him as one of their own yet, never mind someone to fear and obey. His predecessor had cast a long shadow and it lingered still.


    Carmine took a sip of water while the gathered men waited impatiently.


    ¡°Gentlemen,¡± began Carmine, ¡°ministers, please. There is much to discuss and only a limited amount of time before I must leave to attend to other matters.¡±


    He took another sip of water. Let their indignation fester, it would only be to his advantage.


    The truth was he enjoyed being the centre of attention. He liked that everyone here was senior to him in terms of age and experience, yet they were forced to turn to him for insight into the state of current affairs.


    No one spoke, wary of only causing further delays. They were all seasoned enough to know when someone was toying with them. They might not have much regard for him, but he was the Minister for Instruction, acting or otherwise. The office he represented was still one of the most powerful.


    ¡°The latest reports I¡¯ve received show that there are forces lined up along all our eastern borders but that they are not in the process of preparing for deployment.¡±


    ¡°Then what in blast are they doing?¡±


    Carmine turned his head to face the speaker. ¡°Minister Anatole.¡± Carmine was pleased it had been someone whose name he knew. It made him look that much better informed. ¡°I understand why you would ask that, but please consider the sensitive nature of such a question. We can not afford to have our plans leaked to the enemy. All I can tell you at the moment is that there is no danger of an imminent attack.¡±


    His point was accurate, it would be foolish to reveal such information in a venue this exposed, but it was also true that you couldn¡¯t reveal what you didn¡¯t know, whether it be to the enemy or to your own peers.


    ¡°How long would they need to mobilise?¡±


    Carmine didn¡¯t see who spoke this time, so nodded instead. ¡°Our estimates put a major offensive requiring forty-eight hours at the very least, but more likely anything up to a week. Obviously, we would be well aware of their intentions within hours of the decision being made.¡±


    ¡°But how do we defend ourselves without dragons?¡±


    ¡°Is it true the enemy have acquired their own dragons?¡±


    ¡°Why can¡¯t we reinstate the dragon healers? They can¡¯t all be dead.¡±


    The questions were coming all at once, overlapping and leaving no room for answers.


    ¡°Gentlemen, gentlemen.¡± Carmine¡¯s pleas for a chance to speak went unheard.


    ¡°Quiet, you fools!¡± boomed Minister Reshvay. The War Minister was on his feet, which didn¡¯t happen very often. Carmine couldn¡¯t recall the last time he¡¯d seen him up, let alone walking around. How the man travelled from location to location was a mystery. By magic carpet, perhaps.


    The gathered men had fallen into silence at Reshvay¡¯s admonishment.


    ¡°How and when we choose to deal with these blackguards remains a process of the utmost secrecy,¡± said Reshvay. ¡°As Minister Carmine has said, we cannot afford any leaks, intentional or otherwise.¡± Reshvay stared around the table, simultaneously questioning the loyalty and intelligence of everyone present. It was a bold double-slap to the face.


    But Reshvay had earned his position and no one present dared to challenge him. That was the kind of esteem Carmine wished to be held in.


    ¡°We all know the danger of spies in our midst,¡± continues Reshvay, remaining on his feet, hands on the table. ¡°We all know the history of betrayal within our own ranks.¡±


    He looked around again. Eyes nervously avoided returning the stare.


    There had been several betrayals over the years, none successful. The great power of Ranvar made it so the only true threat came from within her own borders as brother vied with brother to redistribute that power that was already held, leading to strictly drawn up rules of conduct that kept a delicate balance in place. Most of the time.


    ¡°Now,¡± said Reshvay, leaning back into a standing position, breaking the spell, ¡°you have been summoned today to ensure your resources are available should they be required. You won¡¯t be informed of what will be needed from you until the last possible moment, so it is imperative you keep your decks clear and your personnel on active duty.¡±


    Reshvay hadn¡¯t given them any more information than Carmine had, but the impression he left was very different. The ministers had an air of hardened resolve about them. They were ready to do their part, even though there had been zero indication of what that entailed.


    There was a sudden burst of noise from the other end of the room where most of the ministers were clumped together. They parted as another figure entered the chamber. It was one that didn¡¯t require any introduction.


    ¡°Well?¡± said the Archmage. ¡°You called for me. Here I am.¡±


    There was an even greater sense of nervousness in the room now. Most here still saw the Archmage as the criminal he had only recently been. Despite his reprieve, he was viewed with suspicion, and a wariness lest he revert to his previous ambitions.


    The Archmage wasn¡¯t alone. Beside his stood a young woman. One that Carmine had only recently been visited by ¡ª Simole, the Archmage¡¯s daughter.


    She only added to the Archmage¡¯s air of disdain for the proceedings. It was highly irregular to bring an unsanctioned guest to the chamber, let alone a child.


    Carmine avoided making eye-contact with her. No doubt she knew he would be here, but there was no point in revealing their encounter to the Archmage if it wasn¡¯t necessary. From what Carmine knew about their relationship, it wasn¡¯t particularly cordial. It was highly likely she hadn¡¯t told her father who she spent her time with. The more pressing question was what was she doing here?


    ¡°Archmage,¡± said Foreign Minister Duplas, rising from his chair. ¡°The prince has already been made aware of your arrival and will summon us when he is ready. In the meantime, perhaps you can advise us on the current state of the dragon population that have been put under your care.¡±


    ¡°The same,¡± said the Archmage.


    There was a disappointed grumble around the table.


    ¡°No improvement in their condition at all?¡± asked Reshvay, sitting heavily into his seat.


    ¡°None,¡± said the Archmage. ¡°But their health is of no concern.¡±


    The mood in the room changed to one of surprise and confusion.


    ¡°You say no concern?¡± said Reshvay, his whiskers shaking. ¡°Blast it, man, what are you saying?¡±


    The Archmage raised his arms, causing a few ministers to scurry away from any potential explosions. ¡°The Royal College will provide the support the dragons would have ten-fold. Mages will be assigned to every platoon and brigade. We will use the full power of Arcanum that is at our disposal.¡±


    There was a mildly positive reaction to this announcement, some cautious smiles shared between the less well-informed ministers. The implication of what was being proposed was not lost on the more astute members of the assembly.


    ¡°Are you saying you will put the mages under our direct control?¡± asked Minister Duplas in a quiet, unassuming voice.


    ¡°No, of course not,¡± said the Archmage. ¡°Obviously I will remain in charge of the members of the Royal College as constitutionally guaranteed, but¡ª¡±


    ¡°This is an outrage,¡± said Reshvay, jumping back to his feet. ¡°Are you trying to usurp command of His Majesty¡¯s forces?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s such a thing as separation of mage and state, you know?¡± added Duplas. ¡°And for good reason.¡±


    The struggle for power between mages and non-mages had been going on since the birth of the nation of Ranvar. Only a very firm declaration by both sides on the merits of keeping the strongest mages away from the reins of power had allowed peace to exist. It was clear to everyone, including the members of the Royal College, that if someone with near limitless power became ruler, whether in name or in action, they would be impossible to mediate with. A dictator, benign or otherwise, was in no one¡¯s interest.


    ¡°I have no intention of promoting myself into some kind of administrative role,¡± said the Archmage. ¡°I find it tedious enough handling the affairs of the Royal College, which I delegate as much as possible. I have no interest in governing an entire country.¡±


    The room was silent, the doubt tangible.


    ¡°No one ever claims to want to be a despot,¡± said Carmine into the silence.


    The Archmage turned to look at him. ¡°Indeed. But these are unusual times, Minister¡­?¡±


    ¡°Carmine. Acting-minister Carmine.¡± He smiled and bowed his head a little, happy to accept his role with humility.


    ¡°Well, acting-Minister, placing my mages within the troops is an entirely temporary measure for only as long as this emergency exists. And it won¡¯t exist for very long once my mages take to the battlefield. I plan to shorten this exercise to the least amount of distraction possible. There is also no need to keep this information hidden from our enemies. They are likely to surrender as soon as they learn of it.¡±


    He sounded very much like the whole thing was a huge waste of his time, and the sooner he could be done with it, the sooner he would be able to return to his real work, whatever that might be.


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Minister Duplas. ¡°I understand. But it hasn¡¯t escaped anyone¡¯s notice that you are employing the same tactics as our own when we wish to infiltrate another regime.¡±


    It was, Carmine knew, standard procedure to offer assistance, have operatives installed as consultants and trainees in an ally¡¯s armed forces, and then take control of those forces from the inside.


    ¡°That¡¯s not how I operate,¡± said the Archmage, ¡°that¡¯s how you operate. I am making the best proposition possible under the circumstances. It is, of course, up to Prince Ranade to make the final decision.¡±


    There was a murmur of agreement on this point.


    A soldier came hurrying in and whispered into Minister Duplas¡¯ ear.


    ¡°The prince has sent for us,¡± said Duplas. ¡°Archmage, ministers of the cabinet, if you will.¡±


    Eight ministers rose from the table, including Carmine, and followed Duplas and the Archmage, accompanied by his daughter, into the next room, an antechamber through which was the prince¡¯s private office. There were nearly as many guards in the room as ministers, stiff men in full armour carrying halberds that nearly touched the high ceiling.


    ¡°Wait here,¡± the Archmage said to his daughter.


    ¡°You also,¡± Duplas said to Carmine.


    ¡°What?¡± spluttered Carmine, completely taken by surprise. ¡°But I¡¯m¡ª¡±


    ¡°Acting-minister,¡± said Reshvay. ¡°There is still protocol to follow.¡±


    Carmine was bursting with anger but he knew there was no point displaying it. His time would come, and sooner than any of these old men realised. He snapped his mouth shut and nodded.


    He was left alone with the girl and the guards.


    Ten minutes passed. Carmine felt a searing embarrassment in front of these lowly soldiers who had witnessed his humiliation. He focused on making sure his face didn¡¯t show it.


    The Archmage¡¯s daughter looked like she couldn¡¯t have cared less about being excluded. She had the air of a teenage girl who had been forced along to some dull affair under parental-duress. A mode entirely fitting for someone of her age.


    ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you had any luck finding your friend,¡± he said to her.


    She looked almost startled by his question. ¡°Do I know you?¡± Then she turned and walked away from him to go stand by a window.


    Carmine was a little thrown at being brushed off by a child. Apparently her desire to not reveal her associations to her father extended to when he wasn¡¯t in the room. Then again, he was the Archmage, he could probably see and hear through the walls.


    After half an hour, the doors opened and the ministers came out looking weary. Whatever had transpired hadn¡¯t left them full of optimism, that was evident.


    ¡°The prince is taking the Archmage¡¯s proposal under advisement,¡± said Duplas in response to Carmine¡¯s carefully understated look of curiosity.


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Carmine, as though this was the outcome he had expected. In truth, he had been too agitated by his exclusion to give the matter much thought. ¡°When will he make his decision?¡±


    ¡°This evening,¡± said Duplas. ¡°In the meantime, we should prepare for the eventuality. We questioned the wisdom of the Archmage¡¯s plan, but there wasn¡¯t an alternative to suggest in its place, so¡­¡±


    Duplas looked tired and distracted. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, my boy. It will all be fine.¡± He seemed to be consoling himself more than Carmine, who did not appreciate being called a boy. He let it pass, though.


    The room was full of distracted men now, all lost in thought. They left one by one until there was only Carmine and the Archmage left, and his daughter at the window.


    The Archmage snapped his fingers and everything froze. The guards, already stood to attention, no longer blinked, the daughter a statue staring at the sky.


    ¡°It went to plan, I take it,¡± said Carmine.


    ¡°As well as could be expected,¡± said the Archmage. ¡°The boy, do you have him?¡±


    Carmine shook his head. He saw the frown begin to form on the Archmage¡¯s face. ¡°He is being helped.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said the Archmage. ¡°As are you. Find him.¡± He held out a small bottle.


    ¡°I will.¡± Carmine took the bottle of dark liquid. His hand trembled slightly. ¡°This stuff, is it really safe?¡±


    ¡°Of course. Why, have you had ill effects?¡±


    ¡°No, no, it¡¯s nothing. A little lightheadedness.¡± Carmine put the bottle in his pocket. ¡°I didn¡¯t think you would bring your daughter.¡±


    ¡°She will play a part in this before the end.¡±


    ¡°Can she be trusted?¡± asked Carmine.


    ¡°It will make no difference,¡± said the Archmage. ¡°Why? You sense something?¡±


    ¡°No, it¡¯s not that... She seemed different somehow. None of my concern. I leave you to it. I can go?¡±


    The Archmage nodded.


    Carmine moved through the room like he was walking under water. It was a strange experience. He opened the door and stepped outside to normality, relatively speaking. He patted the bottle in his pocket. He wouldn¡¯t need it much longer. Find the boy, prepare for war, and then the other ministers would learn their lesson. He headed back to the ministry.


    ***


    ¡°He saw through your disguise,¡± said the Archmage.


    The demon turned from the window. ¡°No. He merely thought he saw a shadow in the corner of his eye. No cause for concern, my child. And what of the prince? Did he agree to place a mage in every corner of his army?¡±


    ¡°He will. He put on a show of deliberating to appease his ministers, but he will. He has no other choice.¡±


    ¡°Very well,¡± said the demon. ¡°And the boy?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said the Archmage. ¡°We still have to take care of the boy.¡±

 Book 2: Chapter Thirty Five (part one)

    In Nic¡¯s estimation, war was inevitable. It wasn¡¯t the battle between nations that concerned him ¡ª even without dragons, Ranvar was superior in military might to her neighbours. The real fight was between the High-Father and his wayward pupils.


    The creature that lived under the Librarium, the demon he had once kept as a guest in his mind, and Winnum Roke. They had formed a coalition to defeat the High-Father to stop him from using this world as his playground.


    The High-Father¡¯s attempts at evolving his creations to something resembling free spirits came at a price ¡ª the annihilation of all indigenous life. Not really the kind of exchange rate Nic considered favourable.


    The inevitability Nic sensed did not come from the determination of the three rebels to be free of the High-Father¡¯s yoke. If he wished to stop them he could have. No, it was the High-Father himself who encouraged the struggle most of all, who kept the fire burning under the crucible. He saw it as a means to produce the best results, like metal being tempered in the fiercest flames to imbue it with unwavering strength.


    Nic was sure everyone understood this. They weren¡¯t naive enough to think their plans were succeeding by outsmarting the High-Father. They did, however, seem to think Nic was naive enough to believe his role in all this was down to blind chance or possibly a destiny foretold among the stars.


    Nic had never been much of a believer in fate or destiny. His only birthright was to be a little spoiled by a doting mother, and who wasn¡¯t born with that?


    He wasn¡¯t born special. He wasn¡¯t even born ordinary to become special, like the heroes in so many of the books popular with his peers. He was born with no entitlement, which made him conveniently easy to torment and dominate.


    There was probably more to it than that, some trait he had that was useful to these people and their grand plans. It most likely wouldn¡¯t be anything of benefit to him. It most likely would end up killing him, once his usefulness was at an end.


    He understood all this but still he was fascinated to be in such august company. He was at the heart of world-changing events, and as much as he felt his position had been artificially elevated and entirely undeserved, it was hard not to find it tantalising, to be present, to be in the front row as the curtains rose.


    What he would do, he had decided, was not try to play the hero, or even the role they were trying to tempt him with ¡ª some kind of proxy for their own ambitions ¡ª but instead to watch and learn from them. He wanted to see the way the world really worked, not the half-glimpsed truths written in books and shaped into something else entirely so as to be easier to consume and digest. And the person who could give him the keenest insight as Winnum Roke.


    ¡°It seems you have been keeping secrets,¡± said the High-Father. His tone was light, playful, and there was a benign smile on his wizened face, but there was a steeliness to his eyes that suggested he wasn¡¯t entirely pleased.


    ¡°It is as you wished it to be,¡± said the creature¡¯s voice from every direction, seemingly. ¡°We act without your permission or guidance, as you wished us to.¡±


    ¡°Indeed, indeed,¡± said the High-Father. ¡°But to have kept this ability from me, it is quite an achievement.¡±


    Nic was more or less an observer, a non-participant in the conversation. For someone who would decide the fate of the world, he was remarkably uninvolved in most decisions. They wanted him to agree to play the game, but all the moves were made by them.


    From what he had been able to work out, the High-Father¡¯s only real interest was in creating a race of beings able to think for themselves. Free will. He wanted his creations to be able to disobey him as proof of this. He could achieve that easily enough by telling them to disobey him, but that wasn¡¯t the same thing.


    The High-Father didn¡¯t want to accomplish this through the same method he himself had acquired free will, through the death of an entire world ¡ª which was a relief. He wanted to use a far more intricate and intensive approach. He wanted to nurture it through conflict.


    The creature, on the other hand, along with Winnum Roke, had decided the sacrifice of millions was a small price to pay for defeating the High-Father¡¯s tyranny.


    Nic wasn¡¯t sure whose side he should be on. Could a strong desire for self-preservation spontaneously produce free will? Was it worth wagering every life on the planet to prevent the High-Father continuing his endless journey of destruction from world to world? That seemed to be the experiment Nic was stuck in the middle of.


    The creature didn¡¯t strike Nic as the best person to decide the fate of his world. In some ways, it was another example of the same thing the High-Father was trying to do. Its creators had made it capable of thought and independent action, which eventually led to it deciding the best course of action was to sacrifice them for the greater good. Not all that different from what the High-Father was trying to achieve. Was that an example of free will and self-determination, or was it cold logic with no consideration for morality or compassion?


    What worried Nic was that if that was how the creature thought then, there was no reason to think it didn¡¯t think the same now.


    ¡°Nothing has been kept from you,¡± said the creature. ¡°The opportunity did not exist until now. There was nothing to be kept hidden.¡±


    Nic recognised this form of evasion, where the technical truth was treated as a substitute for the real thing, like promising not to kill a man if he confesses to a crime, and then having someone else kill him.


    The High-Father, of course, would also know the difference. But the High-Father was the one who had encouraged the creature to go in this direction. He wanted his charges to find ways to deceive him. It showed growth.


    ¡°You wish to take young Nic to consult with Winnum Roke, then?¡± said the High-Father.


    ¡°If it helps him come to a decision, isn¡¯t it a reasonable consideration?¡±


    The High-Father looked at Nic. In the darkened room, surrounded by stars and galaxies, he appeared like a celestial being of immense size. Nic wondered if he looked the same to the High-Father. Probably not.


    ¡°The door is closed,¡± said the High-Father. ¡°How will you get them together?¡±


    ¡°There are other doors,¡± said the creature. ¡°Not as large or as convenient, perhaps, but adequate for a short conversation. He only wants to exchange a few words. Isn¡¯t that right, Nic?¡±


    Nic was a little caught off guard to be addressed directly. ¡°Um, I suppose. Although, I¡¯m not sure I believe you.¡±


    There was a pause, a silence which suggested the creature had taken offence at the suggestion. Then the High-Father laughed. ¡°Wonderful, wonderful. If only I could harness a fraction of the spirit you contain, Nic.¡± He was thoroughly amused.


    ¡°I assure you,¡± said the creature, ¡°I have expressed no falsehoods to you.¡±Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.


    ¡°No, I don¡¯t think you have, either,¡± said Nic. ¡°But what you say you will do, and why you are really doing it, are two entirely separate things. Whatever Winnum Roke might share with me, what she might share with you could be the more important matter.¡±


    ¡°I will not be present,¡± said the creature. ¡°Whatever happens between the two of you, it will only involve the two of you. The method of contacting her resides with you, the map you now have access to, and the heritage you share due to being of the same people. You are linked to her as you are to everyone of your kind.¡±


    Nic felt his brow crease. ¡°Are you saying I¡¯m related to Winnum Roke?¡±


    ¡°Only distantly,¡± said the creature. ¡°As you are to most Ranvarians. The insular nature of your people has meant that you share a lot of commonalities.¡±


    If not for the careful wording, it would have been easy to take the creature¡¯s explanation as an insult.


    ¡°And I can contact her through this map?¡± Nic looked around him at the twinkling lights. He squinted, as though he might be able to spot Winnum Roke hiding among the tiny stars.


    ¡°Yes,¡± said the creature. Nic couldn¡¯t see the creature, but he had the feeling it was smiling smugly.


    There was no doubt in Nic¡¯s mind that things weren¡¯t as simple as they were being made to be. He may well be able to speak to Winnum Roke, but what would Winnum Roke be able to do with him.


    Despite his reservations, Nic was still inclined to go along with the creature¡¯s plan. Even if he were being led into an ill-advised predicament, he would still be able to learn something about how the creature and Winnum Roke intended to defeat their vastly superior foe. The High-Father was the one Nic really needed to be wary of. If he couldn¡¯t hold his own against the creature, he was hardly going to be able to withstand whatever the High-Father had in store.


    ¡°Do you really want them to defeat you?¡± Nic asked him.


    ¡°I want them to try,¡± said the High-Father.


    ¡°But you expect them to fail.¡±


    The High-Father sighed and nodded. ¡°It is the likeliest outcome. You never know, though.¡±


    ¡°You always know,¡± said Nic. When you could change reality at a whim, the future was whatever you wanted it to be.


    The High-Father smiled. ¡°So far, yes. But this world is young and full of potential. I have high hopes. For them and for you. I think you may be what tilts the balance, this time.¡±


    This time? Had the High-Father tried this before? A being who had existed for as long as he had probably had the time to attempt numerous experiments, the only limiting factor were the lives he needed to play with.


    ¡°What do I have to do?¡± said Nic to the room. Speaking to a disembodied voice with no name made it hard to know who to address.


    ¡°Nothing,¡± said the creature. ¡°I will guide you.¡±


    ¡°Then I will leave you to it,¡± said the High-Father. There was a confidence to his voice, a certainty that whatever it was the creature was going to do ¡ª and Nic was sure the High-Father was as suspicious of the creature¡¯s true motives as he was ¡ª there was nothing he needed to fear. Even with his eyes closed and his fingers in his ears, the High-Father would still be impossible to sneak up on, let alone overthrow.


    The glitter in the darkness swirled and lost its shape. Nic felt like he was about to fall over. He closed his eyes to try and keep himself upright.


    ¡°I don¡¯t feel well,¡± he mumbled.


    ¡°This won¡¯t take long,¡± said the creature¡¯s voice right next to Nic¡¯s ear.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡±


    There was no reply.


    Nic had expected a door of some kind to open, maybe a hole to fall into. The last time he had visited the other place, the ship between worlds, it had felt like a physical transfer. This time his head was spinning and he felt mildly nauseous. Of course, he was just assuming he was being taken to the ship. The door was closed and another way would be needed. They couldn¡¯t keep that from the High-Father. But Winnum Roke wasn¡¯t necessarily waiting for him in the same places as before.


    ¡°We are going to see Winnum Roke,¡± said the creature. The voice seemed to be drifting away from him.


    ¡°Where?¡± Nic¡¯s own voice seemed to be drifting away from him, too.


    ¡°The place where the two of you intersect.¡±


    Nic passed out.


    When he opened his eyes, he was lying on a grassy slope, looking up at a cloudless sky. It didn¡¯t look the same as before, though. The ship that had kept Winnum Roke prisoner all these years had an otherworldly feel to it, and this¡­ this felt normal. He could feel the warmth of the sun, for a start.


    ¡°Is he dead? We¡¯re in big trouble if he¡¯s dead.¡±


    And then a bucketful of water landed on Nic¡¯s face and he inhaled sharply from the cold and the shock.


    ¡°He¡¯s alive. He¡¯s blinking his eyes.¡±


    They were talking about him. He was the one blinking his eyes, trying to stop everything being a blur. The accent was a little strange but it sounded vaguely Ranvarian, and vaguely not. Was he in some distant outpost where the accents were different?


    Someone moved nearby, he heard their feet squelching in mud. It was a clear day but there was water on the ground. The two things didn¡¯t jibe until he remembered the water thrown at his face. He was lying in a puddle.


    A pointed cap appeared in the sky over him. ¡°Can you walk or are you going to stay there for the rest of the day, Private Tutt?¡±


    Before he could answer, hands grabbed him, lifting him up. The world spun again, making it hard to see where he was. And then he saw the city ahead of him. He recognised it, the tallest buildings were familiar ¡ª the palace, the Royal College, the Librarium ¡ª and then again it was all completely different. So much smaller.


    ¡°What was he doing? Deserting?¡±


    ¡°Dunno. Took off like he¡¯d seen a ghost.¡±


    ¡°He ain¡¯t a coward. I seen him run into a hail of arrows. Bounced off him, they did. The boy¡¯s charmed.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t talk rot. Hey, don¡¯t let go, he¡¯s gonna topple right over.¡±


    They were talking around him now, no threat or malice. Some curiosity, a little baffled, but they appeared to know him. But not as Nic Tutt.


    ¡°Nic Tutt,¡± called out an imperious voice. ¡°Nic Tutt, stand up, man.¡±


    Or maybe they did.


    Nic¡¯s muscles tensed and he was able to support his own weight again. He looked around and realised he was inside the city walls, it was just that the city was a lot less built up and a lot greener. Swathes of open land were on either side of him.


    ¡°This is the past,¡± he said out loud.


    This was Ranvar City from a previous time, long before Nic was born. How was he here?


    There was no response from the creature and only bemused looks from the soldiers surrounding him. He recognised the uniforms and the armour. This was the Golden Age. A time when Ranvar was building an empire. Nations quickly fell to the Ranvarian army and every battle ended in victory, or so Nic had read.


    ¡°This isn¡¯t real,¡± he said aloud again.


    The creature had said it had the ability to show him whatever he wanted to see, had given him that ability. But it also said it had recorded every moment since arriving in this world.


    It had placed him here, in the past, when Ranvar was an unassailable force with no equal, and the Archmage of the Royal College had been Winnum Roke.


    Somebody slapped him in the face. It didn¡¯t feel like it wasn¡¯t real. It hurt quite a lot, but it also brought his mind into focus. In front of him stood a man in brightly polished armour. He was taller than Nic, taller than everyone, with a face hidden behind a masked helmet.


    ¡°This way,¡± he said.


    ¡°I need to see the Archmage,¡± said Nic. That was why he was here, although he wasn¡¯t sure what he was going to say to a thousand-year-old memory of Winnum Roke. How would she be able to tell him anything? This Winnum Roke knew nothing of what was to come.


    ¡°I know,¡± said the man. ¡°That¡¯s where we¡¯re going.¡± He took off the helmet and wiped his brow. The face was familiar.


    ¡°Rutga?¡± said Nic.


    ¡°Don¡¯t be so familiar, Private,¡± said the man who looked almost exactly like Rutga, if maybe a little younger, maybe a little thinner. ¡°Be professional, be polite, and let¡¯s hope the Archmage doesn¡¯t have you executed.¡±


    ¡°Executed? What for?¡±


    Rutga stopped and gave Nic a quizzical look. ¡°Treason, murder, littering ¡ª take your pick.¡±


    ¡°Can you be executed for littering?¡± asked Nic.


    ¡°When you leave body parts lying around, yes,¡± said Rutga.


    The men closed in around Nic and he realised they weren¡¯t there to help him while he still felt woozy, they were an armed escort. Apparently, this Nic Tutt was in a lot of trouble. But it wasn¡¯t like there was any danger to Nic himself. He put his hand to his cheek which still stung. If he could experience pain here, then what else?

 Book 2: Chapter Thirty Five (part two)

    Nic was escorted into the city, past the city walls. There was no Great Gate, this was before it had been built, there was only a stone archway.


    His hands were tied behind his back and his arms were gripped tightly on either side by men who were much larger than him. They were the two biggest specimens among the men who had captured him, other than Rutga, and being put in their charge seemed to denote some kind of deference towards Nic. Or maybe to the person Nic was inhabiting.


    Nic stumbled as he was pushed along, his feet tripping over each other. Everything felt unfamiliar and awkward. His limbs, his head, his stomach, his mouth ¡ª none of them fitted the way they were supposed to. Which wasn¡¯t surprising since he obviously wasn¡¯t in his own body. But then whose body was it?


    He had been referred to as Nic Tutt by Rutga, which made no sense. It was possible he had been put in the body of some ancestor of his, another Nic Tutt, but his mother had never mentioned a namesake in the family.


    Perhaps she didn¡¯t know. His father would be the one to ask.


    More bewildering was Rutga¡¯s presence. If this was back when Winnum Roke was Archmage, that was a thousand years ago. How could Rutga be alive?


    Unless he too was an ancestor; one who bore an uncanny resemblance to his descendant. An unlikely coincidence. Was any of this even real? If this was a vision of the past, visions could be amended.


    ¡°Creature, can you hear me?¡± mumbled Nic.


    ¡°Quiet now,¡± said Rutga from ahead. The man had sharp ears.


    Nic stumbled again. It was like he had fallen asleep in the wrong position and woken to find he had two dead legs and two dead arms. The men holding him helped keep him upright.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong with him,¡± said the man to Nic¡¯s left. ¡°How could he be drunk and escape?¡±


    ¡°He ain¡¯t drunk,¡± said the man to the right. ¡°Must be some kind of hex.¡±


    ¡°You two can hold your tongues, too,¡± said Rutga.


    Their accents made them sound like farmers, Nic thought to himself. Nothing like the fast and aloof way of speaking he was accustomed to from the denizens of the capital.


    He was led through muddy paths into a maze of sheer walls. The city was smaller but it was crammed full of buildings. Entrances into courtyards appeared on either side. The buildings were small and built from stone piled on top of one another. Nothing like the tall buildings of his time. He caught glimpses of people going about their business, dressed very simply, their hands and faces covered in dirt and grime. Smoke seemed to be rising from every direction; black and sooty. There was a strong odour assaulting his nose. A mixture of cooking meat and burning wood, undercut with something more objectionable. A sharp, bitter scent he couldn¡¯t quite place.


    Nic had no idea what part of the city he was in. The walls were too tall to look over and the sky overhead was an unhelpful blank blue. Nothing made sense for the time being. He would just have to wait until he saw Winnum Roke and ask her.


    He didn¡¯t even know why he was being taken to see the Archmage. What crime had this Nic Tutt committed? Was his whole family line filled with assassins?


    They came out of the maze into a large courtyard filled with men in uniform. They were in pairs, sparring with sticks and wooden swords, dozen of them, maybe hundreds. Nic was becoming familiar with his host body now. He could keep up with the men on either side without needing to be supported. His new legs seemed longer than his own. Looking down, his feet were definitely bigger. This member of the Tutt lineage was a large brute.


    They kept to one side of the courtyard. Some of the training soldiers stopped their duelling to take note of the tight group of men passing through. The soldiers behind Nic made enough noise to make their continued presence known. He was clearly a prisoner who needed an armed guard.


    There was a large building ahead, far more impressive than anything Nic had seen so far. Could it be the palace? It had been built around now, depending on exactly when ¡®now¡¯ was. It didn¡¯t look very much like the modern version, though.


    Before they got close enough for Nic to get a better look, the group took a sharp right turn into a more shabby construction. The ground sloped down and it quickly became cold and gloomy. Torches were lit from behind and the passage took on an eerie feel.


    There was a different smell now. Damp and rot. There were no steps but the ground constantly sloped downwards until they came out into a large room with braziers providing light and a little warmth. Groups of soldiers, their shoulders sagging and their faces drawn, huddled around the fires. They showed little interest in the new arrivals.


    Beyond them, the room was full of cells, separated by metal bars. The doors were also made of metal bars but kept shut using simple bolts that could easily be opened by the cells¡¯ occupants by reaching an arm through the bars.


    They took him to an empty cell, the door hanging open.


    ¡°Back you go,¡± said Rutga as his hands were unbound and he was tossed inside. ¡°Try not to run off again.¡±


    Nic fell on the stone floor, the ground slick with something slimy. There were men inside the cells on either side, maybe women, too, although Nic couldn¡¯t tell in the gloom. The men he could see had matted hair and scraggly beards, three or four in each cell. He was fairly certain his own face was clean¨Cshaven, so his incarceration was probably fairly recent.


    ¡°You said you were taking me to see the Archmage,¡± said Nic.


    Rutga had closed the metal door and slammed the bolt across. The rest of the men stood behind him, adjusting their armour and belts as though the surroundings were making them uncomfortable.


    ¡°You¡¯ll see her soon enough.¡± Rutga shook his head like he was disappointed. ¡°I don¡¯t know what got into you, Tutt. You showed such promise.¡±


    Nic sat up, his hands supporting him from behind, the palms threatening to slide back along the slippery floor. He took a moment to get a good look at this Rutga. His face was more youthful but otherwise an exact copy. Was he taller than the Rutga Nic had encountered? Or just younger and fitter? It seemed ridiculous to think the same man had lived for over a millennium, but why not? With Arcanum, such things might be possible.


    ¡°What am I accused of?¡± Nic asked.


    There were snorts of disbelief and rolling of eyes.


    ¡°You¡¯ll have your chance to defend your actions, don¡¯t worry,¡± said Rutga. He turned towards the men around the braziers. ¡°Watch him more closely this time.¡±


    The men grunted a response. They didn¡¯t seem to care very much about their duty. It was all a little lax, to Nic¡¯s eyes. Were the armies of Ranvar really this ill-disciplined? How had they won so many battles with this sort of attitude? Unless he was only seeing the worst of them.


    Rutga led his men away. Nic was left inside a cell he could easily break out of ¡ª not even break, he could simply open the door and leave ¡ª guarded by men who didn¡¯t appear to care what he did.


    Nic got off the floor, the seat of his trousers wet and unpleasant to move around in. The cell was completely empty, no bed or chair. No toilet either, just a hole in the corner he didn¡¯t investigate. The sound of someone relieving themselves a couple of cells away suggested there was no standing on ceremony here.If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    ¡°Creature?¡± said Nic. There was no response.


    The creature had said it would take him to see Winnum Roke. If this was part of the process and he would eventually get to see her, what exactly would he be able to gain from speaking to a thousand¨Cyear¨Cold memory of the Archmage?


    Nic grabbed a metal bar that was part of the door and immediately let go. It was bitingly cold to the touch. He reached through and down, and fiddled with the bolt on the outside. It made a loud metallic noise that drew the attention of the guards who gave Nic dirty looks but said nothing. Nic drew his hand back inside the bars.


    He looked down at himself. His clothes were similar to those of the men who had brought him here. Clean and in good condition. He checked his body ¡ª his arms and chest, then his face and head. He seemed to be fit and healthy. Short, thick hair on his head, a square jaw and a prominent nose. A strong young man, probably in his twenties.


    The body moved more naturally now that he¡¯d had a chance to get used to it. Almost like it was his own.


    How did this work? He had been put inside the body of someone who had existed, who had lived their life, and now they were under his control. Did that mean Nic could change history? It seemed unlikely. But he could choose to act or not act as he wished, so he could change this particular version of it. Did that mean anything? Not if it had no effect outside of this reality.


    Whatever this was, real or not, Nic had to deal with it as his current reality. He was a prisoner and he had committed a crime of some sort. From what Rutga had said, probably involving someone¡¯s death. Perhaps several deaths. Was he innocent or guilty? It wasn¡¯t relevant but Nic was still curious.


    He had already tried escaping and failed. It was possible that Nic¡¯s arrival had scuppered Private Tutt¡¯s escape plans, which was a little unfortunate. Had the real Private Tutt managed to get away successfully in the original version of his life?


    Nic tried to not think about the real Private Tutt and focused on his own predicament. His main goal was to get to talk to Winnum Roke. Presumably, she would be an accurate representation of the Archmage. Perhaps that was better than speaking to the current one. He might be able to get answers that she would otherwise withhold from him. The thought made Nic feel a little more positive about his situation.


    A Winnum Roke unaware of the future might give Nic a much clearer idea of why she had done the things she had done.


    The other prisoners sat huddled in their cells, not talking and not looking in his direction. They had their own problems to think about. Nic sat down on the driest area he could find and waited.


    It was at least several hours before Rutga returned. He had the same men with him, or at least the same number. The two large men he recognised for sure.


    ¡°Come along,¡± said Rutga as he opened the cell door. ¡°Seems like you aren¡¯t the only one in trouble today.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± said Nic, getting up and approaching the open door. The soldiers put their hands to their sword hilts. Nic raised his hands to show he wasn¡¯t going to attack anyone. It was strange to provoke such a reaction. Almost enjoyable.


    ¡°I think you know,¡± said Rutga. ¡°You and the Archmage.¡± He shook his head, even more disappointed than before. ¡°Turn around and don¡¯t make this any more difficult than it needs to be.


    Nic did as asked and his hands were bound again. His arms were gripped the same as before by the same two men. The prison guards watched him being taken out with the same impassive expressions.


    He was led back through the dark passage, sloping upwards this time, but not to the same exit. A few extra turns and he was at the bottom of a wide staircase. There was no door at the top just an entrance into the large hall of a building. He was marched across the hall, into another passage and into another cell, but this one looked out into a large chamber full of people.


    They were dressed in fine clothes, sat in stacked benches on all sides, vehemently arguing and shouting at each other. The sight was immediately familiar to him from an old painting that hung in the Ranvarian National Gallery. The Pride of Ranvar¡¯s Fall. It was a famous moment in Ranvar¡¯s history, the beginning of the Golden Age, when the mages and the nobles formed a coalition that became the template for Ranvar¡¯s rule.


    The view in front of him was so exactly like the painting ¡ª the clothing, the colours, the shouting ¡ª Nic looked around expecting to see the artist behind his easel. On one side was the High Bench where the Seven Justices sat, three on either side of the Lord Justice.


    They were all large men in white wigs, but unlike the proud nobles in the painting in the National Gallery, they were slouching and wore sneers.


    And on the other side of the chamber, on a balcony, was a single woman. Winnum Roke.


    ¡°You have acted improperly, Archmage,¡± shouted the Lord Justice over the noise, his elevated position giving him some help. ¡°The murder of the prince is too much.¡±


    ¡°Too much! Too much!¡± bayed the crowd around and beneath him.


    ¡°His death was his own doing,¡± shouted back Winnum Roke. Her voice easily transcended the noise.


    ¡°Lies!¡± cried out one of the men seated alongside the Lord Justice. ¡°Your agent of treachery is there.¡± All eyes were suddenly on Nic. ¡°He killed the prince on your orders.¡±


    ¡°The prince,¡± said a man on the Lord Justice¡¯s other side, ¡°his companions and his servants,¡± as though this was the greatest crime of all. ¡°What did he do to deserve such a fate?¡±


    ¡°You know what he did,¡± said Winnum Roke.


    The scene being played out was nothing like the story of Ranvar¡¯s rise Nic had learned from history books. This was supposed to be the time when Prince Ranvir was assassinated by a foreign power, an act which united the kingdom and led to the start of Ranvar¡¯s empire building. This was meant to be where the most powerful families came together and put their differences behind them for the betterment of all. All Ranvarians.


    ¡°If the prince offended you, madame,¡± said the Lord Justice, ¡°he should have been chastised appropriately.¡± The crowd agreed with more shouts of, Too much, too much.


    ¡°And what would that entail?¡± said Winnum. ¡°A slap on the wrist? I know too well how you operate, my lord. You act with impunity, the laws you write only applying to others. And I know the prince, a vindictive little fellow. If I allowed him to live, he would wait until I let my guard down and attack me from the shadows.¡±


    ¡°You slander the dead. You have gone too far, madame.¡±


    The crowd bellowed, Too far, too far.


    ¡°It is you, sir, who have gone too far. Release this man and obey your own process of justice. This soldier was acting as he was ordered.¡±


    ¡°You admit it!¡± cried out one of the other justices. ¡°Your lover is guilty of regicide.¡±


    Nic was a little taken aback to be labelled the Archmage¡¯s lover. It presented all sorts of questions if it were true.


    ¡°He is nothing of the sort,¡± said Winnum Roke.


    ¡°So you bewitched him and made him do your bidding,¡± said the Lord Justice.


    ¡°I am no witch,¡± said Winnum Roke with a ferocity that silenced the chamber, her eyes glowing with a crackling blue light. ¡°I am the Archmage of the Royal College and you have tested my patience long enough.¡±


    The Lord Justice rose out of his seat and floated into the air. He waved his arms and legs to no effect. Some of his fellow justices tried to grab hold of him but they were too slow and too slovenly.


    ¡°Put me down,¡± he yelled.


    ¡°Your corruption and self¨Cserving ways must end,¡± said Winnum Roke. ¡°You will serve as a caution to your successors.¡±


    The Lord Justice began to turn redder and redder, yelling louder and louder. And then he exploded.


    Nic turned away, raising his arms. He felt something hit him in the arm, pierce his skin and lodge itself there. He grabbed it and pulled it out. It was a shard of bone.


    The chamber was in pandemonium, yelling and screaming as people attempted to exit all at once. There was a red mist falling where the Lord Justice had been. The other justices had sunk into their seats, their eyes wide with panic. This was not how the books had told it.


    ¡°Quiet!¡± boomed Winnum Roke.


    The chamber immediately fell silent.


    ¡°There is a vacancy for Lord Justice. Do any of the current justices wish to apply?¡± She glared across the chamber at the cowering justices. They shook their head. ¡°If you wish to resign your posts, do so now.¡±


    The justices took off their wigs as one and vacated their seats, sliding off to the sides and slithering away.


    ¡°It seems we will need to elect new members of the judiciary council,¡± said Winnum. ¡°Allow me to nominate some candidates for the sake of expediency.¡± She listed some names. They were familiar to Nic, the ones he had read of in his textbooks. ¡°Do any of you wish to contest these nominations?¡±


    No one said anything. ¡°Very well. The seven of you nominated are now the council. I suggest you choose one from among you to be the new Lord Justice. And remember, your task is to serve the nation and its people, not your own whims and desires. Have that man released.¡± She pointed vaguely in Nic¡¯s direction and then turned and left.


    As soon as she was gone, the shouting began again.


    The door behind Nic opened Rutga pulled him out backwards. He untied his hands.


    ¡°Now the Archmage will see you,¡± he said.

 Book 2: Chapter Thirty Six (part one)

    Nic¡¯s arm was bleeding but it didn¡¯t seem to bother him very much. There was a large damp patch on his jacket that was growing bigger.


    ¡°Looks alright,¡± said Rutga, giving the wound no more than a cursory glance. ¡°You¡¯ve had worse.¡±


    Nic was not the sort of person to ignore cuts and gashes to his person. But then, this wasn¡¯t his person. Perhaps the people of this era were made of sturdier stuff. The High¨CFather had mentioned that his ancestors had been resilient, maybe this was what he meant. Or maybe it was just this man who could take shards of bone fired into his body like arrows and barely notice.


    It didn¡¯t hurt that much, surprisingly, and he seemed to be able to use his arm without any problem. There was still a good chance it would become infected if not seen to, and eventually he would pass out from loss of blood, but if no one else was too concerned, Nic didn¡¯t feel the need to make a fuss about it.


    Nic was still trying to take in what was happening as he was led back outside into the courtyard. He had a smaller escort this time, only four men and Rutga. He wasn¡¯t given an explanation or told what would happen to him but he did his best to remain calm and be patient.


    The scene he had just witnessed had been a mixture of terrifying and fascinating. A pivotal moment in Ranvar¡¯s history that bore absolutely no resemblance to the version he¡¯d been taught in school.


    Had Winnum Roke really killed one of the judiciary to bring them into line? It would explain why no one had a nice word to say about her. History might be written by the victors, but the losers usually managed to slip in a few snide passages here and there.


    He was taken around the courtyard to the other side. There were still men training out here although they may have been different to the ones he¡¯d seen earlier. He thought maybe he recognised a couple of their faces. He thought maybe he saw admiration in their eyes. They watched the small retinue circumvent their training ground, the prisoner no longer bound but now bleeding.


    Nic found it almost enjoyable. To be looked at as someone who could take damage to his body and walk it off like it was no big deal was a new experience for him. There was something about other men giving you a slow appraisal and finding what they saw to be acceptable that was strangely uplifting.


    Of course, they weren¡¯t actually looking at him, Nic Tutt. If they were impressed by the bleeding prisoner, it was another Nic Tutt their admiration was directed towards.


    Rutga turned the small retinue into an archway and through to an inner area that was suddenly full of noise and life. Instead of entering a building, they had passed in between structures that ringed the true city, which was a huddled mass of houses teeming with activity.


    Nic was starting to get his bearings. The buildings behind him were were to become the various ministries of his day. The area he was in now was restricted to the public and used for ministry business, whatever that might be. But in this time, the ministry building formed a protective barrier around the settlement that had sprung up.


    He could see the other buildings going all the way around, not quite the same as their modern counterparts but recognisable from the same yellow sandstone used in their construction.


    And these houses crammed into their limited embrace were nothing like the houses of the capital. They were a mass of unevenly built structures piled on top of one another.


    Nic¡¯s neck swivelled from side to side and up and down, not watching where he was going but staying on course thanks to being flanked by people who knew where they were going.


    The streets were cobbled with only small patches of mud where stones had been kicked loose. Horses and carriages hurried through the streets, leaving deposits of dung in their wake. No one seemed too concerned.


    The populace were busily going about their business. The atmosphere was one of upbeat optimism. Nic wasn¡¯t sure how he could tell but he felt it strongly, the urge to get going, to get things done. The air was thick with ambition and industry and resourcefulness.


    Their destination wasn¡¯t too far. The Royal College loomed before them, exactly the same. The red brick, the tall gates, none of it had changed in a thousand years. It was both impressive and imposing. It seemed to indicate an ability to endure beyond what intentions others might hold.


    They paused at the gates as someone on the other side, a porter or possible a very lowly mage, exchanged words with Rutga and then pulled the gates open with a great deal of effort and much straining. Rutga watched him without offering to help.


    ¡°Now then, Private Tutt,¡± said Rutga. ¡°You¡¯ll be on your best behaviour or we¡¯ll have to tie you up again.¡±


    Nic nodded. He had no idea why he¡¯d tried to escape in the first place. If he had been working for Winnum Roke all along, shouldn¡¯t he have waited for her to come and get him, just as she did?


    And what was his relationship with this Archmage? There had been some insinuations made that there was something more personal between the two. Was that merely scandalous gossip or something more? He wasn¡¯t sure he wanted to know.


    They entered the grounds of the Royal College and Nic instantly felt more comfortable. Not because he¡¯d be any safer here ¡ª probably quite the opposite ¡ª but because everything felt familiar. He knew this place. It was the same.


    ¡°Okay, boys,¡± said Rutga. ¡°I¡¯ll handle it from here. No need putting the rest of you through this. You can head back now.¡±


    Whatever it was Rutga was referring to, his men accepted his orders with obvious relief. They immediately turned around and hurried off.


    ¡°This way,¡± said Rutga. He set off without waiting for Nic. The gates were slowly being closed by the same man. If he¡¯d wanted to, Nic could have darted through before they shut.


    He followed Rutga, touching the damp spot on his chest. It seemed to have dried. Maybe it hadn¡¯t been as bad as he¡¯d thought.


    Rutga was already entering a tall building, one of the many towers that gave the college its distinctive shape on the city skyline. Nic followed him in and they climbed the stairs that took up most of the space inside.


    They went all the way to the top. To his surprise, Nic wasn¡¯t at all tired by the time they reached the door at the top of the stairs. Being this physically fit was what he had aspired to, and now he had achieved it. All it had taken was using someone else¡¯s body.


    Rutga knocked on the door and then entered when told to do so from the other side. Winnum Roke was seated behind a large desk, writing something in a large book. She quickly scribbled something down and then closed the book.


    ¡°You¡¯re here. Good.¡± She got up and walked across the small room.


    She looked younger than the last time he had seen her on the demon ship, which was understandable, but also less stern and cold. Which was odd considering what she had done to the Lord Justice a few moments ago. There was a brightness and vitality to her that he hadn¡¯t seen in the Other Place. This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    ¡°You may go,¡± she said to Rutga.


    Rutga raised an eyebrow that suggested he didn¡¯t think it was wise for him to leave them alone, but it wasn¡¯t clear whose safety he was concerned for. He turned around and exited, closing the door behind him. At least the return journey was going down.


    ¡°Nic,¡± said Winnum Roke, smiling, ¡°what were you thinking?¡± She put her arms around him and kissed him on the mouth.


    Nic was too startled to do anything other than let her. He felt the pressure on his lips but didn¡¯t respond. He just froze.


    Winnum Roke stopped kissing him but their lips were still connected. She slowly backed away, pulling her mouth off of his. She looked a little more like her old self now.


    ¡°Who are you?¡±


    ¡°Nic Tutt,¡± said Nic. He patted his lips which were tingling. It wasn¡¯t his first kiss but it was definitely the hardest.


    ¡°No. You¡¯re not him.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said Nic. ¡°I mean, I am. I¡¯m Nicolav Tutt from¡ª¡±


    ¡°Nicolav? Your name is Nicodene.¡± Her eyes were now as cold and stern as he remembered them.


    ¡°Is it?¡± So this person wasn¡¯t the same as him. It was something of a relief. Was there a Nicodene Tutt in his father¡¯s family tree? Was there also a Rutga¨Cpredecessor always destined to stand alongside him, or was the man just immortal? The thought that the Tutts and the Rutgas had some kind of eternal partnership through the ages, a duo fighting side by side, was quite a romantic one, if a little unlikely. His own relationship with the man who had tried to kidnap him probably wouldn¡¯t rank very high on the list. ¡°I¡¯m not him.¡±


    ¡°I can see that,¡± said Winnum, her eyes sparking with blue light. ¡°Who are you?¡±


    ¡°I really am Nic Tutt. I think I may be a descendant of this man, although I¡¯m not sure. I¡¯m not from this time. Sorry, I probably sound like I¡¯m insane.¡±


    ¡°Not at all,¡± said Winnum. ¡°Why don¡¯t you tell me why you¡¯re here.¡±


    Nic decided to do just that.


    At first, Nic had been thrown into confusion by his abrupt entry into this world. He had no idea what he was doing here or what he was supposed to do. The creature had said it could take him to see Winnum Roke and, technically, here he was.


    But Nic had had time to think through the possibilities and it seemed fairly clear that none of this was real. It certainly felt real and he had little doubt this was an accurate recreation of the time and place it was meant to represent, but he hadn¡¯t gone back in time to these events. He had been inserted into a memory of them, like being in a dream or a story.


    And like being in a dream, nothing that happened here would affect the real world. This had already taken place. Even if he could affect this place, push and pull it out of shape, what these people went on to do had already happened. Nothing Nic said or did here would change the future.


    This was the conclusion he¡¯d come to. What he wasn¡¯t so sure about was why he¡¯d been sent here. What could this Winnum Roke tell him about a world she had no knowledge of?


    ¡°I came here to ask your advice.¡± That was the reason he had wanted to speak to Winnum Roke. If not advice then an explanation. He wanted to hear from her own mouth the reason she wanted to sacrifice her own people to defeat the High¨CFather. It just didn¡¯t make sense to him but maybe she had a reason that would make him understand. Then he could step aside and let her do as she wished.


    ¡°I see.¡± This Winnum Roke had accepted his presence with great calm, but then she was the Archmage. Perhaps people from another time dropped in for a chat like this every now and again. ¡°About what?¡±


    Nic hesitated. If he couldn¡¯t get the actual Winnum Roke¡¯s response that didn¡¯t mean this one¡¯s was invalid. In fact, he might be able to get a more honest answer from someone who hadn¡¯t yet been through the bitterness of learning what the Royal College truly was. This Winnum had that to come.


    His hesitation came from not knowing how she would react but then he reminded himself that it didn¡¯t matter. As real as this seemed, as real as Winnum Roke believed it to be, it wasn¡¯t. He could tell her a completely honest summary of events and the worst she could do was nothing. And if she was anything like the Winnum Roke he knew, that wasn¡¯t going to be the case. Unless she didn¡¯t believe him. He had to make it as clear and as plausible as possible, that was all.


    ¡°In the future, I mean, where I come from, I mean when I come for, we¡¯re in a struggle against the demons.¡± He looked at her, hoping he hadn¡¯t lost her already.


    ¡°I see,¡± she said. ¡°That would warrant seeking my advice. How far into the future is this?¡±


    ¡°A thousand years,¡± said Nic.


    Winnum¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°So I¡¯m long dead. At least the kingdom managed to survive that long.¡±


    ¡°Yes. We¡¯re the most powerful country in the region and have been since your time. There has been prosperity and peace for many years. This threat is something recent.¡±


    ¡°And the dragons? Why not use them to fight off the demons?¡±


    She didn¡¯t know the link between dragons and demons. This Winnum Roke had yet to discover the secrets of the Royal College.


    ¡°The dragons have been¡­ incapacitated. They sleep and can¡¯t be roused.¡±


    Winnum Roke nodded. ¡°And what is it you wish of me?¡±


    A good question. What could an ingenue Winnum Roke tell him?


    ¡°There is talk of making a last¨Cditch attempt to defeat the demons, to sacrifice everyone to stop them in their tracks. A plan that will take the lives of every single living person, but it is the only way anyone has been able to come up with that might work. We might fall but no one else will have to suffer at their hands.¡±


    ¡°And the alternative?¡±


    ¡°To become mindless, soulless slaves with no free will, trapped in an illusion until we eventually perish.¡±


    ¡°The only option is to allow everyone to perish? I think you have been misled, Nicolav Tutt.¡±


    ¡°I have?¡± said Nic. ¡°We¡¯re going to die anyway. At least this way we can make sure no one else has to go through this.¡±


    ¡°To sacrifice oneself to save a child, your own or even someone else¡¯s, that is something many have done, it is something that is very human. But to sacrifice your child to save someone else¡¯s?¡± She shook her head. ¡°No, that is not something any human is capable of. Who came up with this preposterous plan?¡±


    Nic had to stop himself from saying you did. But then, if this Winnum Roke was so clearly dead set against this idea, how had the other one come to the opposite conclusion? Unless she hadn¡¯t.


    ¡°But if we die either way¡­¡±


    ¡°So be it. There is no shame in losing a fight. But killing yourself first¡­ ridiculous. I¡¯m sure I could come up with half a dozen alternative solutions if I had the chance to assess the situation. And if I can, so can your current Archmage.¡±


    ¡°He may be on the side of the demons,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°Typical,¡± she said, like it came as no surprise. ¡°Still, no reason we can¡¯t work around the traitor. And who is on our side?¡±


    ¡°Well, um, there¡¯s me¡­ and some people I know from school.¡±


    ¡°School? You mean the Royal College?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said Nic. ¡°I¡¯m not a mage. I¡¯m a student at Ransom.¡±


    Winnum¡¯s mouth fell open. And stayed there.


    Nic waited for her to say something but she remained frozen. In fact, everything had stopped moving, even the air felt like it had stilled.


    The door opened and Rutga entered. ¡°You see, she¡¯s the one we need.¡±


    Nic looked at him. Was he the real Rutga transported here just as Nic was? ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°This Winnum Roke, she can find a way to defeat the High¨CFather.¡±


    No, not Rutga. This was the creature. In here with him the whole time.


    ¡°But you already have her,¡± said Nic. ¡°On the ship.¡±


    ¡°She cannot be freed.¡±


    ¡°What about the piece of her I brought back?¡± said Nic. He had a fragment of Winnum Roke in his head which the creature had taken from him.


    ¡°That is not suitable. It has the mindset of the Winnum Roke who is bitter and determined to destroy rather than save.¡±


    ¡°And this?¡± Nic pointed at the woman standing like a statue. ¡°You can take her out of here?¡±


    ¡°It can be done. But we need to replace her. A recording like this one can¡¯t simply have parts removed. Someone has to take her place. Are you willing to do it?¡±


    ¡°Me?¡±


    ¡°You would be the Archmage, able to shape this world however you wished. It would only be a dream, but a magnificent one.¡±


    Winnum Roke was right. What he was suggesting wasn¡¯t something any person would propose. In fact, everything he¡¯d been told about how to defeat the High¨CFather struck him as inhuman, just like the creature.


    ¡°No,¡± said Nic, ¡°I won¡¯t do it.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a shame,¡± said Rutga. ¡°I was hoping to do this amicably.¡± He reached out to grab Nic.


    Nic dodged easily. He didn¡¯t do it intentionally, the body he was in reacted on its own. Instinct or training or innate self¨Cpreservation, he didn¡¯t know. But this body, this Nic Tutt, knew how to handle himself. He also knew how to fight, and how to kill.


    Nic jumped towards Rutga.

 Book 2: Chapter Thirty Six (part two)

    Nic moved without even thinking. The creature, disguised as the Rutga of this period, wore leather armour, gloves with metal studs and a belt with a sword on one side and a large knife on the other. Nic, on the other hand, was wearing loose clothing that barely protected him from the cold and had no weapons of any kind. Launching an attack didn¡¯t seem like a good idea at all.


    But his body seemed to think otherwise. And once he was moving, Nic was inclined to agree.


    His movements felt completely different to when he tried anything like this in his own body. When he trained with the Secret Service agents, they would encourage him to let go of his inhibitions and allow his instincts to lead him, but they could never explain how to do that. They would just tell him to keep trying and eventually he would understand.


    When it came to reading and analysing ideas, Nic was very capable and he could take in great swathes of information effortlessly. He could grasp concepts, separate them into categories and store them away in parts of his memory for instant retrieval at a future point in time. That sort of understanding was what he was familiar with.


    But developing that information into practical skills, requiring adequate physicality to back them up, was something else entirely.


    Information was not enough. Instincts and talent couldn¡¯t quite bridge the gap. You needed experience, actual real¨Clife encounters to test what you had been taught. And when the thing you were trying to learn was dangerous, it also helped if you didn¡¯t end up dying in the process.


    Nic caught Rutga by the wrist and kicked him in the shin, pulling him forward so his hand was drawn past Nic¡¯s hip, and followed up with a knee into Rutga¡¯s stomach.


    Rutga staggered back, yanking his hand free.


    Nic knew he shouldn¡¯t let go, he should press his advantage while he had the chance ¡ª he wasn¡¯t sure how he knew, he just did ¡ª but he was too startled by the burst of violence he had produced to stay focused on the task at hand.


    How had he moved so quickly and struck so accurately? Was he somehow commandeering the abilities of Nicodene Tutt? Even if this Nic Tutt possessed great fighting prowess, how had Nic gained access to them? Only one Nic could be in control at a time, and he was very much aware of the body he was in. He stared at his hands as though they belonged to someone else; which they did.


    Rutga had stumbled but remained on his feet. The leather armour he wore under his brightly coloured uniform had absorbed much of the power of Nic¡¯s hits. If Nic hadn¡¯t taken him by surprise, he probably wouldn¡¯t have gotten winded.


    But Rutga wasn¡¯t himself, either, he was possessed by the creature. Nic had seen the modern version of Rutga in action, an experienced soldier and competent fighter. He imagined this Rutga was the same. He certainly had a similar physique and sense of power to his body. Then why hadn¡¯t his body reacted with its innate fighting ability the way Nic¡¯s had?


    It was obvious to Nic that Rutga was not moving like a professional fighting man. It wasn¡¯t just an assumption, he could literally see it. The way Rutga was standing, how he was positioned, the lack of situational awareness. None of it was correct. He was wide open for further attacks.


    Nic could also tell that Rutga was about to draw his sword. The shift in bodyweight, the tensing of muscles that indicated he was about to move his arm back so his hand could reach the hilt sticking out of the scabbard. All the tiny changes happening to Rutga¡¯s body were clearly visible to Nic, as was the outcome that hadn¡¯t happened yet.


    Was this what the Secret Service agents had been trying to show him? Was this how experience changed information into knowledge?


    Other than the two of them, the room was still. The whole world was just as static. They were the only two dancers in this particular ballroom, which made it much easier to predict Rutga¡¯s moves.


    Nic did his best to stop thinking and allowed his body to react as it willed. If he was able to synchronise with Nicodene Tutt¡¯s body, then he was happy to let it take the lead. He had his hands on the reins but this horse knew where to go. He just had to hold on and not fall off.


    Rutga had his hand on the sword hilt. Nic stepped across him, on the opposite side to the sword. He grabbed Rutga¡¯s free hand and pulled it down, opening up his chest. The sword came out and swung across Rutga¡¯s body towards Nic.


    From the perspective of a passenger watching events unfold, Nic thought it might have been better to close in on Rutga¡¯s other side, giving him less space to draw and swing his sword.


    Nic being on the opposite side gave Rutga plenty of space to add momentum to his strike and bring the blade down on Nic¡¯s unprotected torso.


    But Nicodene¡¯s intention quickly became apparent. It didn¡¯t matter how much room Rutga had, his intent wasn¡¯t important. What Nic needed was time to act. With Rutga committed to his sword, taking it out, swinging it, he couldn¡¯t actually engage Nic before Nic could take his own action.


    And that action was to remove Rutga¡¯s ability to guard himself with his free hand, and then to punch him in the face.


    Nic used his left hand, which wasn¡¯t his favoured one, or Nicodene¡¯s. The hit was still very solid and the impact registered in clear¨Ccut fashion as Rutga¡¯s head snapped back and the sword lost direction as it sailed over Nic¡¯s head.


    Rutga let go of the sword and it clattered to the floor. With his other hand, he cupped his nose, which was bleeding.


    ¡°Good, good,¡± he mumbled into his hand. He let go of his nose which now had a kink in it. ¡°You are adapting quickly.¡±


    Nic could hear the difference now. The voice was the same, but the tone was not the one Rutga had used previously. It was more methodical and matter of fact, flatter and detached. It was the creature.


    This assessment did not come from his host, it was Nic¡¯s own judgement. Whatever skills Nicodene Tutt possessed, his perception of disembodied creatures was not as well¨Cdeveloped as his combat technique. Nic was pleased that his intellect, which he considered a key part of his identity, he was beginning to realise, was still useful. He might not be able to manifest his academic learning into performing like a trained soldier, but he was more than just a passenger in this. He might not be able to read a body the way Nicodene could, but he was able to differentiate between words and intent, which was not entirely useless.


    ¡°You want me to adapt quickly?¡± asked Nic. ¡°It will only make me beat you sooner.¡±


    ¡°In here?¡± said the creature. ¡°In here, it makes no difference. You forget, this isn¡¯t real.¡±


    Nic had not forgotten, he just had no reason to dwell on it. He had been brought here to not only meet Winnum Roke but to take her place. He glanced over his shoulder to where she stood, lifeless.


    ¡°Then what do you want?¡± he asked the creature. ¡°If you intend forcing me to remain here, why bother with any of this? You control this place, don¡¯t you? Why haven¡¯t you already made the switch and left?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t wish you any harm, Nic,¡± said the creature, a finger gingerly touching Rutga¡¯s swollen nose, nudging it back into a straight line and wincing at the pain. ¡°If there was some other way, then I would take it.¡± A tear trickled down the side of his nose. ¡°Pain is such a strange phenomenon. It¡¯s only in this place that I can experience such things. I do not envy you the experience.¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t control that body, can you?¡± said Nic. ¡°Not the way I can control this one.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right. I do not have the correct inner architecture to line up with this psyche. But you do. That¡¯s why it feels so effortless. This is what your life would be like if you stay here. Yes, it is not real, not in the traditional sense, but then what is reality? Does it make a difference if it feels the same. You won¡¯t be able to tell this world apart from your own, other than the fact here you will be able to do as you please, with a body that will respond to your intentions much better than your own ever could.¡±


    ¡°Yes, it does make a difference,¡± said Nic. ¡°If I know this isn¡¯t real¡­¡± He wasn¡¯t sure how to put it in words, but he had no doubt that he had no desire to live the life of a heroic  man of action inside a dreamworld.


    ¡°I could make you forget this isn¡¯t real.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s even worse,¡± said Nic. ¡°That would be the same as killing me. This is a puppet, not me. I don¡¯t want to exist as a puppet.¡±


    Rutga¡¯s face scrunched up in what Nic guessed to be frustration, although it might have been in pain from the increasingly purple nose on his face. It seemed to Nic that there was something the creature needed from him. His cooperation with something? He wasn¡¯t sure, but whatever it was, Nic wasn¡¯t going to be told in a straightforward manner and given the chance to make up his own mind. No, that would go against the way everyone had collectively decided to treat him. A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    Instead, he would be tricked and misled and coerced into doing as they wished. He still hadn¡¯t been able to figure out why. If he had something worth obtaining, he might be able to accept all the deception, but he had nothing of value to offer or be robbed of. Nicodene Tutt, on the other hand, would have made a fine target for the warring factions of his own time.


    ¡°I¡¯d like to go home now,¡± said Nic. ¡°If you don¡¯t mind.¡± He didn¡¯t think it would be that easy, but he had no idea how he got here and no idea how to get back. In that regard, the creature was right. It made no difference if he could beat this Rutga in a fight, it wouldn¡¯t change his being trapped here.


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid that isn¡¯t possible,¡± said the creature. ¡°Tell me what I can do to make this situation more palatable to you.¡±


    There it was again, the unmistakable indication that something was required of Nic. Which, to his way of thinking, meant the creature couldn¡¯t force him to do what it wanted. And perhaps that meant it couldn¡¯t keep him here, either.


    But if he didn¡¯t know what it was he could or couldn¡¯t do in this place, he would be stuck here regardless. What he needed was to find some answers. He could escape from this tower and try to find those answers from the people existing here, but he doubted they would know any more than he did. They were part of this slice of history, not experts on how it was created or what the limitations were. As far as they were concerned, this was all real and they were living their lives as they pleased.


    If they knew that wasn¡¯t true, how would they react? Probably not believe it, for a start. But that was what he was being offered. Live here inside a bubble of fiction and be the hero every boy wishes to be.


    It didn¡¯t appeal to him in the least. The fact the creature had thought it would showed how little it understood people. Which was an excellent argument for not allowing it to decide humanity¡¯s fate.


    ¡°You¡¯re no different to the High¨CFather,¡± said Nic. ¡°You can¡¯t fathom why we are as we are, so you substitute your own way of thinking and make decisions we would never make. Even being inside that body, you can¡¯t let yourself learn anything new, it would destabilise your delicately balanced system of operating. You¡¯re incapable of change. Which makes you sorely unqualified to choose our fate.¡±


    ¡°Unqualified?¡± said the creature, sounding a little offended. ¡°You are a lot like my own people. They too wished to only choose the ideal option, the one where they could have things turn out the way they wanted, with no cost and no sacrifice. And in insisting so, they lost everything. That is the fate that awaits you, that you would hoist onto the rest of the universe. You are only here for an instant, and then not even a memory remains, unless one is made, like this one. You would doom every existence that will come after you to suffer at the hands of the High¨CFather, just so you can extend the infinitesimally small amount of time you have just a tiny bit longer.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Nic. ¡°Your inability to understand what that time means to us is why you can¡¯t grow beyond your limitations. If you only think in terms of an infinite existence or a negligible one, you make the point of existence meaningless. And then what does it matter what anyone does? The short¨Clived will be gone before you can blink, and the long¨Clived will still be here when there¡¯s nothing left but them.¡±


    Rutga blinked at him, like he was trying to make sense of what Nic had just said but wasn¡¯t doing very well. The problem with trying to explain something alien to someone¡¯s way of thinking was that there had to be agreement on the fundamentals. Both sides had to agree that two and two made four. If not, every higher function wouldn¡¯t make sense, no matter how elegantly the pieces fit together.


    ¡°There is no other option,¡± said the creature, sounding determined to cling to its own thought process.


    Nic looked at Winnum Roke. She had been sure there were other options, that there always were. But you had to be willing to look for them. Nic was inclined to agree with her. The creature¡¯s approach was pragmatic. While you spent time searching for a solution that might not exist or might never reveal itself, the chances of utter failure grew closer. It was better to accept a compromise that wasn¡¯t entirely satisfactory rather than ending up with a complete disaster.


    The issue for Nic, though, was something far more immediate. He was stuck in this pretend world with no way out and immense pressure to accept what the creature was suggesting as the only course of action. But Nic had come to the conclusion that the creature¡¯s reasoning wasn¡¯t sound. And that there was something it was keeping from him.


    Nic desperately searched his thoughts for an answer, a way to force the truth out of the creature. Even if it wasn¡¯t information he could use, he would rather have a clear picture of the situation he was currently in than the restricted version he was convinced he was being shown.


    Nothing came to mind. He didn¡¯t have the necessary information, or the experience, or the knowledge; and neither did Nicodene. He wasn¡¯t even sure why the creature was still here. It would make more sense to leave Nic here imprisoned until he was willing to be more cooperative.


    Unless it was stuck in here with him. In which case, if it was trapped inside Rutga, perhaps he could use its immersion into the human sensory experience to his advantage. Perhaps the best way to force out the truth was with actual force.


    Nic lunged forward and grabbed Rutga. The creature was taken by surprise and was too slow to react. Nic fell on top of him and the two grappled on the floor, the creature protesting when it could get words out, which wasn¡¯t very often.


    Nic took hold of Rutga¡¯s arm and straightened it, bending it back. Rutga screamed in pain. Nicodene apparently had a very good idea of how to cause maximum discomfort without allowing his victim to pass out. It wasn¡¯t a very commendable thing to know, and Nic tried not to focus on the previous recipients of Nicodene¡¯s talent, but it was effective. Rutga was wailing and sobbing in a manner that suggested the creature was not used to being questioned under duress.


    Then it screamed louder than before and Nic thought he had done some irreparable harm, but the next moment Nic was jumping off the ground backwards, and not under his own strength. Everything was moving in reverse, including the creature, all the way to the moment it entered the room, only now it was leaving while walking backwards and Nic was standing in front of Winnum Roke.


    The door opened and Rutga reentered. ¡°Now,¡± said the creature, ¡°shall we try ag¨C¡±


    Nic lunged at him. He didn¡¯t know how the creature was able to turn back time but if it had that much control over this world it only convinced Nic more that he didn¡¯t want to be trapped here. Just as Nicodene was his puppet, he would be the creatures, trapped inside a display case.


    He managed to get Rutga on the floor again, this time intent on increasing the amount of pain to a level that would force something of use out of the creature¡¯s mouth. He immediately began jumping off Rutga, who again left the room in reverse. If the creature could do this endlessly, then Nic was truly powerless.


    The door opened again, the creature entering more guardedly. ¡°Nic, please¡­¡±


    He didn¡¯t manage to say any more than that, not because of Nic this time, but because of Winnum Roke. She stepped in front of Nic, one hand extended like a claw, and clenched her fist.


    Rutga rose into the air, choking and grabbing at his throat. He flew across the room and slammed into the wall, leaving cracks across its surface, his feet dangling well above the floor.


    ¡°You will not speak,¡± she said, eyes crackling with blue light. She turned her head to face Nic. ¡°What is this thing?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a¡­ a captive of the demons. It comes from another world, one that the demons destroyed. It wants to end them here, to stop them before they can do the same to other worlds.¡±


    ¡°By sacrificing ours.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Nic. ¡°It brought me here to take your place so it could use you to help it.¡±


    Winnum Roke looked around her, her hand still held outstretched, Rutga still pinned high on the wall.


    ¡°I heard what it said to you. This isn¡¯t real. I am not real.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said Nic. He considered lying, he didn¡¯t know how she would react, but he would rather treat her the way he would wish to be treated in her position ¡ª honestly. ¡°You are a memory of Winnum Roke caught inside this place to be played back like a performance.¡±


    ¡°Then how are you here? You did not exist in the original memory.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± said Nic. ¡°It¡­ seems to be able to change events to gauge reactions, a way to view alternative outcomes.¡±


    ¡°Yes, I see,¡± said Winnum. ¡°A testing ground, with us as its test subjects.¡± She was taking the news much better than Nic had expected. ¡°And why are you the one that was brought here?¡±


    Nic shook his head. ¡°I wish I knew. For some reason, I have become a focus of attention. I assume it¡¯s because I¡¯m easy to manipulate.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said Winnum. ¡°No reason other than convenience is never correct. There has to be a reason it was you and there had to be a reason you had to choose willingly to stay here. Don¡¯t underestimate your worth. If you were the one brought here, you were the best option, possibly the only option. You can do something they can¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°But what?¡± said Nic. He wanted what she said to be true, but how could it be. If he had any kind of power at all he wouldn¡¯t be here. ¡°It can even reverse time.¡±


    ¡°No one can reverse time,¡± said Winnum. ¡°If what you say is true, time doesn¡¯t exist here.¡±


    She was right, it wasn¡¯t time that had reversed. This place existed outside of time, it was a record of events already completed. But even then, the creature was the one in control here.


    Unless it wasn¡¯t.


    What if Nic had more power over this place than he realised? What if he was able to interact with this place just as the creature could? What if he could interact more than the creature could, like he had been able to with Nicodene?


    Nic closed his eyes and tried to bring himself to the place in his mind where he could access the map of stars. If he could see where he was, he might be able to see a way home. This place had to exist somewhere.


    It took a moment to stop all the thoughts racing around his head and he found himself in a dark, empty room. He recognised it. He was inside the Librarium, in the room he had been in with the High¨CFather. He hadn¡¯t moved at all.


    He opened his eyes. Winnum was still next to him.


    ¡°I think I can see the way back.¡±


    ¡°Then go,¡± said Winnum Roke. ¡°They must fear you greatly if they are willing to go this far. Find out why.¡±


    ¡°Could you¡­¡± He looked up at Rutga struggling to get free. ¡°Could you keep him here a while?¡±


    ¡°I can keep our friend here forever,¡± said Winnum Roke, smiling. ¡°Time doesn¡¯t exist here.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry I can¡¯t take you with me.¡±


    Her smile remained but there was a touch of sadness in her eyes. ¡°I don¡¯t exist either. Now go.¡±


    Nic closed his eyes and stepped into the dark room. When he opened them, he was there, in the Librarium. A figure jumped at him. It was Rutga, the contemporary one, judging by his clothes. Nic easily evaded him, moving smoothly out of his path in a way he hadn¡¯t been able to previously. It seemed a little Nicodene had rubbed off on him.

 Book 2: Chapter Thirty Seven (part one)

    Rutga flashed past, outstretched hand missing Nic, then turning his torso, trying again to grab at Nic¡¯s hair, clothing, waist, one after the other; missing each as Nic skipped backwards, his feet barely touching the floor.


    It was like he was gliding. Not exactly like when he¡¯d been a guest in the body of his powerful ancestor Nicodene Tutt ¡ª then he hadn¡¯t even registered his movements, they had been as effortless as breathing ¡ª but this was very definitely new for the current Nic Tutt.


    Rutga took two heavy steps to stop his forward trajectory and swivelled on one foot so he was facing Nic. They were in the bare white room where the creature had shown Nic the map of the stars. Now there were only the two of them and nothing very celestial about the encounter.


    The room was small and plain. There was one exit, an archway, with Rutga blocking access. The look in Rutga¡¯s eyes was a mixture of surprise and dogged¨Cfocus. There was an intensity there Nic had not seen before. Not when he¡¯d kidnapped Nic from the school, not when he¡¯d fought the Gweurvians, and certainly not when they sat upstairs in the Librarium.


    He had seemed like an old pro then, an expert past his prime. Still quite capable of taking care of a neophyte like Nic, but not the coiled beast in front of him now.


    ¡°You use that body well,¡± said Rutga. Nic wasn¡¯t sure what that was supposed to mean. It didn¡¯t sound like a compliment, more of a sneer.


    ¡°Why are you attacking me?¡± asked Nic. As far as he knew, he wasn¡¯t that much of a threat. If Rutga had wished to dispatch him he could have done it earlier, so what had changed? Assuming this was the same Rutga, of course. He looked the same as before, but then so did the Rutga he had met a thousand years ago. Maybe there was a never¨Cending supply of Rutgas, all identical.


    ¡°It would be best if you stop trying to fight me,¡± said Rutga, ¡°whoever you are.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m me,¡± said Nic.


    ¡°Of course you are. You think I can¡¯t smell the foul stink of magic on you. There were cows on our farm that gave birth to monsters. They smelled just like you do.¡±


    Nic had never heard of monstrous cow¨Cbirths, and he had no idea what that had to do with him. ¡°Arcanum doesn¡¯t¡ª¡±


    Rutga lunged, arms aiming low, trying to circle Nic¡¯s waist.


    Nic saw it coming as soon as Rutga moved. He no longer had Nicodene¡¯s size advantage, but he could still read a body in motion. This Rutga moved much better than the one the creature had inhabited (although that might have had more to do with the pilot than the ship) but that only made it easier to predict what he was trying to do.


    This Rutga¡¯s movements were precise and controlled and carefully chosen to do a specific task, in a manner Nic understood. He hadn¡¯t until recently, but now it was clear as the clearly indexed appendices at the back of a book, explaining and clarifying every tiny detail.


    Nic jumped to one side and spun around behind Rutga. He wasn¡¯t exactly sure what he was going to do from there, but attempting to escape from Rutga¡¯s clutches wasn¡¯t going to be necessary if he never got caught.


    Rutga was bigger and stronger than him, and if they got into a clinch chances were Rutga would overpower him. Skill and ability helped up to a point, but raw power tended to make up the difference once you were in close¨Cquarter combat.


    ¡°Can we talk?¡± said Nic, backing away. He was breathing a little heavily, but not as bad as he normally would. Managing his effort was also a lot easier now.


    Rutga was couched, eyes fixed on Nic¡¯s, which he found uncomfortable. But he knew he couldn¡¯t look away or he¡¯d be flattened in an instant.


    ¡°That body doesn¡¯t belong to you.¡±


    Nic realised why Rutga was so keen on taking him down. He believed Nic had returned under the control of some other entity. Which meant he was aware of the creature¡¯s intentions.


    Did that mean he was on Nic¡¯s side? Maybe it just meant he was working against the creature.


    Then again, Nic wasn¡¯t sure why the creature had been so eager to switch him with the younger Winnum Roke. Wouldn¡¯t she be hard to control if she¡¯d been brought back in Nic¡¯s place? There was no reason to think she would go along with whatever the creature or the older Winnum Roke had planned for her.


    Rutga came running in low, his body compact and ready to pounce in whichever direction Nic attempted to evade.


    It might even be the case that Rutga was working with the creature and capturing Winnum from the past while she was inside Nic¡¯s body was what he was the goal, before she could gain proper control of his body. It stood to reason that a teenage boy¡¯s body was not something she was particularly familiar with.


    ¡°Stop, please, I¡¯m not who you think I am,¡± said Nic, backing away in hops and skips.


    ¡°I know,¡± said Rutga, bobbing from side to side as he closed in.


    ¡°No, I mean I¡¯m me, the real me. I¡¯m Nic.¡±


    Rutga hesitated, straightening to get a better look at Nic, or so Nic thought. The moment Nic relaxed a little, Rutga surged forward as though he¡¯d been waiting for this slight shift in posture, barrelling forward, almost tumbling as he aimed for Nic¡¯s legs.


    Nic tried to leap over the incoming attack and knew immediately it was the wrong move. He was panicked by the sudden loss of awareness caused by the surprise attack. He had gone from being one step ahead to one behind, and the idea of having to rely on his old senses was not an inspiring one.


    Rutga went from down low to straight up, hitting Nic in the chest with his head, knocking him into a spin that turned him over in mid¨Cair.


    Nic frantically stuck out his hand, his body upside down and the top of his opponent¡¯s head below him. As Rutga¡¯s headbutt tossed him into a somersault, he grabbed Rutga under the chin and pulled him over as Nic came down.


    He wasn¡¯t sure if this was a move he¡¯d taken from Nicodene¡¯s repertoire, or one born of sheer desperation, but Rutga went flying over the top of him and the momentum carried him across the room, slamming into the wall.


    ¡°Enough,¡± said a familiar voice. Rutga obligingly slid to the floor and remained there.


    Nic was a little concerned he had done the man more harm than he¡¯d intended ¡ª he hadn¡¯t intended harm or anything else, his actions had been entirely instinctive ¡ª but on closer inspection it became apparent that Rutga¡¯s stillness was being unnaturally enforced. He was like a statue, one in a very unflattering pose. He wasn¡¯t moving or breathing, but somehow Nic could tell he wasn¡¯t dead. He was too fixed in place, like an insect pinned to a board.If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    Nic slowly released the tension holding his body like a spring and stood up straight. He let out a breath and looked around. The room was empty apart from the two combatants.


    ¡°High¨CFather?¡±


    ¡°You made it back,¡± said the voice, now behind him. Nic turned to find the High¨CFather standing there like he¡¯d been there the whole time, which he might have been. ¡°How did your meeting with the Archmage go? Well? Did she mention me?¡±


    The High¨CFather was shorter than Rutga, and less powerfully built, and he wasn¡¯t charging Nic with killing intent in his eyes, but Nic felt far more under threat in his presence.


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t quite as I expected. It wasn¡¯t the Winnum Roke I expected.¡±


    ¡°Yes, you met with one of the creature¡¯s documented versions. She was no less Winnum Roke, though. Her answers would have been just as accurate. You wanted answers, did you not?¡±


    ¡°Yes¡­¡± said Nic. ¡°I suppose so.¡±


    ¡°She didn¡¯t provide you with the answers you sought?¡±


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t that. I don¡¯t think she was the same person. I mean, I understand she is an accurate representation of the Winnum of her time, but the Winnum now isn¡¯t the one from then. She¡¯s changed. And that Winnum couldn¡¯t tell me how this one came to the decision she did. They aren¡¯t the same person. None of us are, compared to our older selves.¡±


    The High¨CFather pursed his lips and stroked his white beard. ¡°No, I suppose not. I find it fascinating how you change over time. It seems to be an essential part of the process, but so prone to flaws.¡±


    Nic wasn¡¯t sure what the High¨CFather was referring to. He pointed at Rutga¡¯s slumped from. ¡°Is he working for you?¡±


    ¡°In a manner of speaking. He performs the occasional task for me.¡±


    ¡°Like attacking me?¡±


    ¡°Ah, yes, that was more of a test to see how you had changed, and who you may have changed into.¡±


    ¡°So you knew what the creature intended to do to me?¡± said Nic.


    ¡°Intention, yes. Outcome¡­ that is what matters, and not something I control, by prior arrangement. I hadn¡¯t thought you would come out unscathed, though. You surprise me again.¡± There was a glint in the old man¡¯s eyes and smile played across his lips. He wasn¡¯t as much pleased that Nic had returned intact as he was amused by it.


    ¡°And if I had come back changed, what would you do then?¡± asked Nic.


    ¡°Nothing. I just like to know. I have agreed to not intervene and I shan¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°You know what they are trying to do and you let it happen anyway?¡± said Nic, feeling frustrated by how casually the High¨CFather accepted all of this. ¡°Does it really matter what happens then? Whatever they do, they won¡¯t be able to defeat you, will they? That¡¯s never been possible. You only want them to learn how to reach further than they think they can. A little growth, a little closer to your goal.¡±


    ¡°That is one way to look at it,¡± said the High¨CFather. ¡°But for all my prescience, I can still be surprised, like with you. And you did come back changed. Weren¡¯t you concerned that you weren¡¯t worthy of the role of champion? Just a boy in over his head? But look how you have gained the ability to defeat a man far superior to you in skill and experience. Such growth in such little time. Is it not astonishing?¡±


    Nic felt a cold thought crawl up his spine. ¡°Is that why you let me go with the creature? Did you make the creature take me because you knew this was a possibility?¡±


    ¡°No, no. Like I said, I have agreed not to intervene. But naturally I notice when things develop. Already, we are in a new place that has never occurred before. That alone is a cause for optimism. I do have a question for you, though, if I may. You are yourself, untainted, which is impressive, but where is the creature? It does not appear to have returned with you.¡± The High¨CFather gave him a curious look.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t see what happened?¡±


    ¡°No. I kept my word and looked the other way. Whatever you concocted with the creature, I have no knowledge of it, currently.¡±


    ¡°It stayed behind,¡± said Nic. ¡°I don¡¯t know for how long. I asked Winnum to hold it there, as a favour.¡±


    The High¨CFather¡¯s curious expression changed to one of surprise. ¡°You asked her for a favour? I was not aware such a thing was possible. Interesting. Very interesting.¡±


    The High¨CFather was pleased, Nic could tell. He was like a teacher when the class understood the lesson and no one asked any stupid questions. Not just pleased but excited.


    Nic wasn¡¯t sure if that bode well for him or for the rest of Ranvar. He had begun to understand what it was the High¨CFather wanted, even if he had no idea why. With so much power and the ability to change reality at will, the desire to create beings he had no control over made little sense.


    The demons, he had created to be like children, and he treated them as such. He wanted them to grow and become independent, but constructing them as fully¨Cformed beings with free will was apparently not possible.


    Allowing them to find their own path, with no interference from him ¡ª with limited interference might be more accurate ¡ª appeared to be the current plan, but it was slow and there was no certainty the results would be any different from previous attempts. But if that was the path the High¨CFather had chosen, Nic was hardly in a position to say otherwise.


    What he still didn''t grasp was what made him a key part in all this. Even if he was able to surprise the High¨CFather by not being dead yet, it was hardly going to aid in the evolution of demonkind.


    ¡°I do feel a little more capable,¡± said Nic, wary of not claiming too much and then being asked to prove it in some way, ¡°but I¡¯m still unable to use Arcanum.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said the High¨CFather. ¡°I have tried to raise the most talented of your kind to their full potential, or so I thought, by giving them the power they craved. And they readily and greedily complied, no matter how painful and excruciating the process. Many did not survive but there has never been a shortage of volunteers. But with you, it¡¯s the opposite. Your lack of magical power seems to force you to rise to your potential far more effectively. While the ones I entrusted with challenging me have relied on emulating me, which I can¡¯t see being very effective ¡ª I have a great deal more experience at being me than they do ¡ª you have never approached any task the way I would have. It may be the thing I have been missing.¡±


    Listening to him speak, seeing how thrilled he was about this latest development in this process he had been conducting for so many millennia, what struck Nic was how little any of the people he had used along the way meant to him.


    They were a means to an end. It wasn¡¯t malicious, it was far colder than that. If there was a way to give the High¨CFather what he wanted without sacrificing whole worlds, he would accept it. And if there wasn¡¯t, that was fine also.


    ¡°I think there¡¯s a better way,¡± said Nic. ¡°I don¡¯t think Arcanum is it.¡±


    ¡°I agree,¡± said the High¨CFather. ¡°It seems I¡¯ve been wasting my efforts in that direction. Teaching Arcanum created an interesting dynamic but little in the way of substantive change. And the offspring of mages, although a much more efficient method, had unfortunate side¨Ceffects. But now I see there was another way all along. And you are the one who can bring it to light.¡±


    ¡°But I need time,¡± said Nic. ¡°Can you stop this war so I can begin to study the problem more closely? I think I might be able to figure it out if I don¡¯t have the constant distraction of being surrounded by death and destruction, especially my own.¡±


    ¡°Ah, I cannot do that, I¡¯m afraid,¡± said the High¨CFather, shaking his head sadly. ¡°My promise to not intervene still holds. But I am not the only one with the ability to halt these proceedings.¡±


    ¡°Who else?¡± asked Nic.


    ¡°Why, you of course. Let¡¯s not lower our optimism so soon. You are the bright hope we have been waiting for.¡± He smiled.


    Nic was about to refute the claim, but he stopped himself. He might not be a mage but he was no longer merely a schoolboy. If he wanted to prevent a war between nations, there might actually be a way to do it, one that wouldn¡¯t require any bloodshed.


    ¡°Then can you give me him?¡± Nic pointed at Rutga. ¡°I need someone to keep the rest of your chosen few from interfering, and I think they will try their hardest to do that once they realise I am trying to stop them from doing what they want.¡±


    The High¨CFather chuckled. ¡°If there¡¯s one thing I¡¯ve noticed about those with free will, it¡¯s how much they resent others who also have it and wish to use it. Very well. You may have the use of our friend for the time being, but beyond that, you will be on your own. I will observe with interest.¡±


    Nic nodded. Maybe his idea would work, maybe not. But first he had to stop a war. ¡°Actually, could I ask one more thing? It¡¯s very small.¡±


    ¡°Go on.¡±


    ¡°Could you send me back to the school? It¡¯s quite a long way and I don¡¯t¡ª¡±


    ¡°Just this once,¡± said the High¨CFather. ¡°As a favour.¡±


    The room vanished and was replaced by Nic¡¯s bedroom. Fanny was standing in the doorway with his mouth hanging open. ¡°How did you do that? And who¡¯s he?¡± He pointed at Rutga who was lying on Nic¡¯s bed, asleep.


    ¡°Ah,¡± said Nic. ¡°I can explain.¡± And then he realised he couldn¡¯t.

 Book 2: Chapter Thirty Seven (part two)

    Nic had lost track of time. The light from his bedroom window suggested it was early morning, but he wasn¡¯t sure of which day.


    How long had he spent inside the recreation of the past? It had seemed like several hours but it was hard to tell.


    Rutga was asleep on Nic¡¯s bed. He was lying on top of the sheets, fully clothed in what was clearly a military uniform, and he was breathing. The whole situation wasn¡¯t as bad as it could have been but by no means was it good.


    ¡°He¡¯s an old friend of my dad¡¯s,¡± said Nic. Which was true and, he thought, enough information to not require further explanation.


    ¡°Oh,¡± said Fanny. He took a bite out of the hot pie that was in his hand. There wasn¡¯t a bakery on the school grounds, and he certainly hadn¡¯t baked it himself, but food had a way of appearing around Fanny. ¡°Army buddy?¡± Flakes of pastry fell from his mouth, but he caught them with his other hand, probably to save for later.


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Nic. ¡°They were in the army together. I, ah, bumped into him. He needed a place to sleep. Temporarily. Don¡¯t tell anyone, I don¡¯t think we¡¯re allowed to have overnight guests.¡±


    It was sounding more and more plausible as Nic spoke. He had inadvertently encountered someone who had known his father back in his army days, someone who was in a bit of a state, and he had offered to help him. Perfectly legitimate and believable.


    Fanny was nodding like he found Nic¡¯s story acceptable. He was used to Nic behaving in slightly odd ways, so why not bring home a middle-aged man and let him pass out on his bed?


    ¡°He¡¯s back,¡± Fanny yelled, turning slightly so his mouth was pointed towards the hall.


    ¡°I told you he would be,¡± shouted back Davo.


    ¡°We were worried,¡± said Fanny. ¡°It¡¯s not new for you to wander off, but it¡¯s usually because you¡¯ve got yourself involved in something awful.¡±


    He had a point. It wasn¡¯t like those times Nic had gone missing previously had turned out to be him getting lost in a good book and forgetting dinner.


    ¡°There¡¯s no need to be worried,¡± said Nic, trying to make his frequent near-deaths sound manageable. ¡°I always come back.¡±


    ¡°Yah,¡± said Fanny, licking the crumbs off his hands. ¡°But one of these days, you¡¯re going to come back dead. It¡¯ll be very sad. I¡¯ve been preparing myself.¡±


    ¡°You have?¡± said Nic. ¡°How?¡±


    Davo appeared in the doorway. ¡°He¡¯s been writing up the menu for your wake. He expects me to have it catered. Who¡¯s the fellow with the red nose?¡±


    Rutga did have quite a red nose. It was naturally quite rosy but it seemed to have an added blush of colour to it this morning. It might be a result of their fight. Rutga had taken some hard knocks.


    Nic wasn¡¯t about to take full credit for beating a man far his superior in skill and experience. He had the benefit of an expert¡¯s insights plus the fact Rutga hadn¡¯t been expecting to fight an equal. Surprise was a powerful weapon.


    ¡°He¡¯s an army buddy of Nic¡¯s dad,¡± said Fanny. ¡°I think he¡¯s been, you know¡­¡± Fanny mimed swigging from a bottle.


    ¡°Ah, that would account for his nose,¡± said Davo.


    ¡°He isn¡¯t a drunk,¡± said Nic. It would have been easy to pass Rutga off as a bit of a lush, and himself as some kind of saviour to the downtrodden, but Nic felt bad misrepresenting the man. He didn¡¯t deserve to be tarred as a charity case when he was quite capable of looking after himself, and anyone who crossed his path. ¡°He¡¯s just a bit tired.¡±


    Nic leaned over Rutga. He had asked the High-Father to lend Rutga¡¯s services to him, but he hadn¡¯t expected to receive Rutga comatose. How was he meant to wake him? And would he be ready and willing to serve? The High-Father could certainly force people to cooperate, but he seemed reluctant to do use that power most of the time. And then there were times where he did it without considering the consequences in the slightest. It was difficult to grasp exactly what boundaries the High-Father had set himself. Extremely flexible ones, would be Nic¡¯s guess.


    ¡°We have to keep him a secret,¡± said Fanny, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper.


    ¡°I should think so,¡± said Davo. ¡°Tongues will wag.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re getting the wrong idea,¡± said Nic. ¡°He¡¯s actually a very nice¡ª¡±


    ¡°Arghh,¡± shouted Rutga as he sat bolt upright.


    Fanny and Davo both instantly disappeared, diving out of the doorway. Nic jumped back, more from surprise than fear.


    Rutga blinked a couple of times, looked around the room, and then rubbed the back of his head. He winced. ¡°I think a mountain jumped me from behind.¡±


    ¡°Ah, no, sorry about that. I accidentally threw you at a wall.¡±


    Rutga frowned. He furrowed his brow like he was trying to recall something.


    ¡°You threw him?¡± said Fanny, peeking back in. ¡°That¡¯s not very nice.¡±


    ¡°He was showing me some moves,¡± said Nic. ¡°He¡¯s in the army.¡± It felt like everything should be clear without the need for further elaboration. An old friend of the family giving Nic some tips so he could better take care of himself. Sounded perfectly reasonable.


    ¡°I was showing you how to slam someone¡¯s head in, was I?¡± said Rutga. ¡°Does sound like something I would do.¡±


    Nic let out a breath, relieved Rutga was playing along. Even if he didn¡¯t quite remember what had happened, he wasn¡¯t yelling and demanding answers. None of the Where am I? and How did I get here? type of questions that would have been Nic¡¯s first reaction.


    Rutga was taking it in his stride, as though this sort of thing happened to him all the time. Which very easily could be the case.


    ¡°Sorry, lads,¡± said Rutga, holding up a hand in apology. ¡°Had a bit of a nightmare, you know how it is with warfare, limbs flying about, corpses all over the place. You think you can handle it just fine, and then you wake up screaming. Didn¡¯t mean to startle anyone.¡±


    Somehow, his mixture of joviality and deeply disturbing imagery seemed to put Fanny and Davo at ease.


    ¡°You¡¯re a friend of Nic¡¯s father?¡± said Davo.


    ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± said Rutga. ¡°Long time back. Knew him in the army. He was always getting himself into some scrape or other. Young Nic here is the spit of him. Thought I¡¯d seen a ghost first time I set eyes on him.¡±


    Nic was impressed at how easily Rutga had slipped into the role he had been unknowingly assigned. He had a knack for it, or years of practice.


    ¡°Would you like a cup of tea?¡± asked Fanny.


    ¡°Ohhh, I¡¯d love one.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll see if I can dig up some biscuits,¡± said Davo. ¡°Maybe the nice ones Fanny keeps hidden and thinks we don¡¯t know about.¡±


    ¡°Hey, have you been eating my biscuits behind my back?¡±


    The two of them drifted off to the kitchen. Nic puffed out his cheeks. So far so good. Now, he had to deal with Rutga, who no doubt had much harder to answer questions, and wouldn¡¯t be so easily appeased.


    ¡°Nice boys,¡± said Rutga. ¡°I can tell they¡¯ve got your best interests at heart. Don¡¯t believe a word you told them, though.¡±


    ¡°Didn¡¯t they?¡± said Nic, shocked. ¡°But it was true, mostly.¡±


    ¡°If you want trust, you need to be a bit more than mostly true. Now then, what exactly am I doing here? I might have been hit on the head, with a wall, but I¡¯m fairly sure I was in the capital, last I checked.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t remember how we got back to the school?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said Rutga, gently stroking the back of his head.You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    ¡°Rutga, I believe you when you say you knew my father, and I think you¡¯re loyal to Ranvar, in your own way, but who do you really work for? The High-Father?¡±


    Rutga gave Nic a curious look. ¡°You think I work for a dragon? And a dead one, at that.¡±


    It was hard to know if Rutga was playing a part or if he really had no idea the High-Father was more than just a dragon. Nic hadn¡¯t expected a straight answer in any case but he had wanted to see if he would be able to see something in Rutga¡¯s reaction now that he had the added perception of an older and wiser Tutt to call on.


    ¡°You¡¯re here to help me, right?¡± said Nic, hoping that would be enough to activate whatever it was the High-Father had put in place. But he saw nothing other than a genial old soldier. The High-Father agreed to give Nic use of Rutga, perhaps Nic should have asked for specific details of how that would work.


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Rutga. ¡°Of course. What exactly would you like help with?¡±


    Rutga seemed amenable but a little baffled. The blow to the skull probably didn¡¯t help. ¡°You¡¯re okay to do what I ask, even if you don¡¯t know why you¡¯re helping me?¡±


    ¡°You need help, that¡¯s all I need to know. You''reTutt¡¯s boy. I¡¯ll always help you in any way I can, Nic.¡± He sounded sincere, but then, he was trained to.


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t bother you that someone might have tinkered with your mind? Made you think you¡¯re doing what you want to do, even though it¡¯s someone else¡¯s idea?¡±


    Rutga looked confused. ¡°If I believe it¡¯s what I want, what difference does it make?¡± He smiled. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t worry too much, if I were you. We¡¯re very resistant to magic in my family, all the way back to the first Rutga ¡ª we¡¯re all military man with heads made of wood.¡± He rubbed his scalp. ¡°Take more than a bit of hocus pocus to get in here.¡± He knocked on the top of his own head while tapping the wall with his other hand to make a hollow thud.


    Nic smiled. He¡¯d never had an uncle before.


    ¡°They¡¯re trying to start a war,¡± said Nic, ¡°one they think will end the injustices of the world, but it will only make things worse.¡±


    Rutga nodded. ¡°You could be right. One war usually leads to another. It¡¯s a bit of a merry-go-round. What¡¯s that got to do with a lad like you? You should be learning your letters and leave the fighting to men like me.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± agreed Nic. ¡°But I think I can stop the fighting before it starts. If I can¡­ a lot of people are going to be very upset. They¡¯ll probably want to have a word or two with me about it.¡±


    ¡°I see. And you¡¯d rather not speak to them?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d rather not. At least, not until I¡¯ve had a chance to see it through. If you don¡¯t mind, I¡¯d like you to keep an eye out for any¡­¡±


    ¡°Suspicious characters?¡±


    ¡°Yes, exactly. As long as I have a little advance warning, I should be okay. I don¡¯t think they¡¯ll try anything too overt, it would expose them too much. That¡¯s what they don¡¯t want. They all like to act like the other side is all self-interest, while their intentions are pure. But none of them are really looking out for anyone but themselves.¡±


    ¡°True, but that¡¯s always been the way. Not much to be done.¡±


    ¡°I think there is,¡± said Nic. ¡°If everyone saw what the others were up to¡­¡±


    ¡°Ooh,¡± said Rutga. ¡°That¡¯s a dangerous game. Men like to keep their flaws private. They¡¯ll be mighty upset if you reveal them to the world.¡±


    ¡°As long as everyone¡¯s equally exposed¡­¡±


    ¡°They¡¯ll be equally upset with you. I see why you need someone to watch your back.¡±


    ¡°I would do it myself, but I¡¯ll be a bit distracted.¡±


    Rutga sat quietly for a moment. Then he sprang to his feet. ¡°Leave it to me.¡±


    Nic hadn¡¯t expected Rutga to be quite so eager, but that was the power of the High-Father. If he had wanted Nic to think he was acting true to his own beliefs, then that¡¯s what Nic would believe without a moment¡¯s doubt. It was disconcerting to think about, but as Rutga had said, if you weren¡¯t aware of it, there was no difference.


    ¡°What will you do?¡± asked Nic.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be around. You won¡¯t see me, but if you need something, just call. I¡¯ll hear you. And if we do have visitors, well, if they get to you then that means I¡¯ve already been disposed of.¡± He grinned like this was something to be pleased about. ¡°Now, where¡¯s that cuppa?¡±


    He walked out of the room as Fanny exited the kitchen and took the steaming mug out of Fanny¡¯s hand. He drank it down in one go, gave a loud, ¡°Ahhh,¡± and then headed for the front door. ¡°Nice meeting you lads. Maybe we¡¯ll see each other again and I¡¯ll share a few war stories with you. Then you¡¯ll be the ones having nightmares, eh? Haha.¡±


    When he¡¯d gone, Fanny turned to Nic. ¡°He¡¯s an odd bloke. I like him, though.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Davo. ¡°Perhaps you could ask him for advice on women. After the horrors he¡¯s seen, your love life should only cause him mild nausea.¡±


    Nic turned around to go back in his room.


    ¡°You better get washed up,¡± said Davo, ¡°or we¡¯ll be late for class.¡±


    ¡°Actually,¡± said Nic, ¡°I think I¡¯ll skip classes this morning.¡± Fanny and Davo both stared at him, agog. ¡°It¡¯s only the Arts Course this morning. I¡¯m not even going to be a mage.¡±


    Brill emerged from his room, ready to leave. He stopped when he saw the three of them in the hall. ¡°What¡¯s going on here?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s doing a bunk,¡± said Fanny.


    ¡°Davo, that¡¯s not like you.¡±


    ¡°Not me,¡± said Davo. ¡°Him.¡± He pointed at Nic.


    Brills pulled an appalled face. ¡°But it¡¯s the Arts Course. Mr Periwinkle will be very aggravated if you play truant. He¡¯ll take it out on the rest of us.¡± Appalled escalated into alarmed.


    ¡°No, he won¡¯t even notice,¡± said Nic. ¡°Tell him I¡¯m feeling under the weather. He¡¯ll understand.¡±


    Nic returned to his room before the others could find more ways to express their astonishment. He actually did feel a little out of sorts. He hadn¡¯t had any sleep in a while and the bed looked inviting. But there was no time for that.


    What he had said to Rutga had been the truth ¡ª he believed the way to stop the war between Ranvar and its neighbours was possible through exposing a few secrets ¡ª but he hadn¡¯t quite figured out how he was going to do it.


    He had the map that gave him the ability to see what everyone was up to, but the problem was that if he looked at everything at once, none of it stood out. And if he focused his attention on one small part, there was no way to know which part was important at any given time.


    He could spy on the Gweurvians or the Ranvarian ministers or the rulers of the neighbouring kingdoms, but there was no guarantee they would say or do anything of interest while he watched them.


    He couldn¡¯t watch them day and night. Even if he could, he¡¯d only be able to watch one person at a time. That sort of approach was not going to work.


    What he needed was a much broader approach.


    He heard the others leave for class and stripped off his clothes. First, he would take a shower and get rid of the dirt and grime of the last couple of days. He put on a bathrobe and went to the bathroom.


    He was skipping school and doing as he pleased. It was a liberating experience. For some reason, it was the most invigorating shower he¡¯d ever taken. His mind raced with ideas as he scrubbed himself clean.


    He returned to his room and dried his hair with a towel. He sat on his bed and stared at the wall opposite. His mind drifted with minimal effort and he saw the world from a bird¡¯s eye view. He was over the school, where there was hardly any movement. The children who were still attending were all in class as they were supposed to be.


    With a shift in thoughts, he was able to identify where specific people were. They lit up so he could see them through walls. He was careful not to choose anyone who might notice him, but students sitting at the back of a classroom or a dinner lady in the cafeteria wouldn¡¯t be aware of his presence.


    He could see them, but no one else could. This ability was powerful, but it was limited to him. He had been thinking about making it available to more people. To everyone. If they could see each other, there would be no way to hide anything. But he had no idea how to do that, and there would be other repercussions. Not everyone would be as circumspect as him.


    Were there any Gweurvians nearby? He searched for them and found small groups dotted about the countryside. What were they planning? Their main goal seemed to be to provoke the Ranvarian forces into taking action, most likely in a way that would make Ranvar look like the aggressor. In all honesty, it probably wouldn¡¯t be that hard to achieve.


    It would have been easy to simply float around, observing for no other reason than to take everything in. He could see so much and he had no idea what to do with all this information. He started to get hungry and his thoughts turned to Fanny, wondering if raiding his pantry would be a step too far. He was instantly taken to the classroom where Fanny was seated. Nic had been thinking about where Fanny kept his stash hidden, apparently it was on his person.


    As he hovered over the class, Nic thought about how good Fanny was at concealing things. Maybe he also knew a thing or two about revealing them. How did he produce items out of thin air? It wasn¡¯t magic. It was a simple understanding of where people¡¯s attentions lay. The more he thought about it, the more impressed he was with how someone like Fanny was able to achieve so much with no magical ability.


    His focus made Fanny glow strongly. He was the sole person in the classroom being lit up by Nic¡¯s ability and he was getting brighter. It wouldn¡¯t be surprising if someone else noticed, Nic thought, but he was in a herbology lesson with no one like Simole or the Librarian there to notice.


    Only, some of the other students did start to notice. They pointed at Fanny with confused looks.


    Nic could have removed the effect but instead he pushed it more. Soon, everyone in the class could see the glow around Fanny, including Fanny. There was mild panic in the classroom.


    Nic ended it and backed off. They would probably put it down to some malfunctioning device. Herbologists used devices that were powered by small amounts of Arcanum.


    Nic returned his thoughts to the small cabals of Gweurvians. He isolated them as before so that they were highlighted. Then he focused on them so they glowed brighter; bright enough for others to see them. It would be difficult to carry out their actions in secret if they were lit up like a flock of lighthouses.


    It wasn¡¯t quite what he¡¯d envisioned, but it would slow them down. He could use the same technique on other groups, make it impossible for anyone to move in stealth. And since he wasn¡¯t using Arcanum, there was no way for them to counter it.


    People in hiding around the country began to glow, much to their surprise.


    ¡°Why do you look so pleased with yourself?¡± said a voice.


    Nic opened his eyes to see Simole sitting on the other end of his bed.


    ¡°Something very odd happened to Fanny,¡± she said, ¡°and I think you had something to do with it. Why are you sitting here naked?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not naked,¡± said Nic, pulling his bathrobe closed. ¡°I¡¯m a little busy, actually.¡±


    Simole stared at him grimly. Nic pulled his robe closed even tighter.


    ¡°What are you up to?¡±


    ¡°Where¡¯s Dizzy?¡± asked Nic, sensing that if Simole suspected him, then Dizzy would have reached the same conclusion.


    Simole¡¯s mouth fell open. She was looking across the room. Nic followed her gaze.


    Through the wall, a crouched figure could be clearly seen, glowing.


    Dizzy stood up, her brightly lit face appearing at the window. ¡°What have you done?¡± she said.


    He had worked out how to achieve his goal. Now he had to work out how to stop.

 On break till the New Year

    I''m putting The Good Student on hold until after Christmas. It''s the one story giving me most problems and draining me to the point I''m really not enjoying writing it. It''s also nowhere near its potential and I''d rather give it a proper break. I will come back to it (I''m too invested in it not to), but making myself miserable to hit self-imposed goals is just dumb. Apologies to those of you who only like this story.Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    Ithink it''s pretty obvious it''s a pale shadow of the first book. I think I rushed to get Book 2 out because people were waiting for it, but I can do a lot better than this and I need to take a break from it and write something I can be pleased with.


    Feel free to leave comments here or on Discord.