“So what was the point of a Tower, if you'll excuse the pun?” asked Thraun.
“They were a symbol of power and authority.” Erienne shrugged. “Phallic symbols for men whose mana ability was less than their egos demanded. Pathetic, really.”
At the gate they were stopped by a single guard who, after a moment's reflection, recognised the mage in front of him.
“Erienne,” he said kindly. “It's been a few years since you came here.”
“We all have to fly the coop sometime, Geran, but it's good to see you.” The guard smiled, then looked at Will and Thraun. “Friends of my husband,” said Erienne. “I've had a little trouble, I'm afraid.” Her voice caught and she stopped.
“And now you're here for some help.”
“Something like that.”
Geran stepped aside. “You know the rules on visitors,” he said.
Erienne nodded and walked past him. “I'll see they don't encroach.”
“How is Alun, by the way?” asked Geran.
Erienne stiffened but carried on walking, not turning. Thraun came to Geran's shoulder.
“That's the trouble. He's dead. And the boys.”
Geran's face fell. “I'm—”
“I know. Best left.”
It was close on two hundred yards to the Tower from the gate. To their left, a line of stubby wooden windowed huts—classrooms—arced away, and to their right a long, shuttered building, metalled and black.
“It's where range spells are practised and new spells live tested. It has to be strong,” said Erienne, stopping to look. “Did you know that across the Colleges one in fifty mages die in their long rooms and test chambers? No, of course you didn't. You thought we all just wake up one morning able to cast. There never has been enough respect for the dangers we face in training and research. You think it's a gift, but to us it's a calling we have no choice but to obey. We don't walk in here, they find us and bring us.”
“Take it easy, Erienne.” Thraun, taken aback by her sudden anger, put a hand on her shoulder. She shook it off and began walking again.
“Behind the Tower is another place to dread. The Mana Bowl. That's where mages learn to accept, build and control mana. Next door is the ward where the ones who opened their minds too far too soon lie gibbering and drooling until death takes them. Mercifully, that isn't usually too long.”
She marched up a short flight of stone steps, across a paved relief and hammered on the massive oak doors that fronted the Tower. The left-hand one swung open silently and a man stepped out. He was old beyond anything they had seen or even dreamed. White hair cascaded below his shoulders and his mouth was obscured by a grey-flecked beard. While his body was bent with age and he supported himself on two sticks, his eyes were a clear blue, flashing from a face wrinkled and rolled into a grotesque caricature of the man he once was. But the eyes gave him strength and Erienne bowed to him.
“Master of the Tower, I am Erienne. I seek knowledge in the library.”
He considered her for a moment before nodding.
“Indeed,” he said in a voice brittle and quiet. “And your companions?” He gestured vaguely with one stick.
“They guard me.”
“They may enter the hall but go no further.”
“I know, Tower Master.” Erienne wrung her hands.
“You are impatient, Erienne Malanvai. It was always your weakness.” He chuckled. “Go and seek your knowledge. You have been absent from the library for too long. Perhaps age is finally bringing you wisdom.” He took a pace toward Thraun and Will, squinting at them in the failing afternoon light. The thief received only a cursory glance, but Thraun's face he held with his eyes for some time, a frown deepening the wrinkles of his forehead still further.
“Hmm,” he said eventually. “Do not trespass. The penalties are swift and severe.” He shuffled back into the Tower, leaving the door open for them to enter.
Erienne came down toward her companions. “What was all that about?” she asked.
“I must have a scary face.” Thraun smiled, but it was less than convincing.
“We could ask you the same question,” said Will.
“The Tower Master, you mean? Just do as he says. He runs the house for the Lore Masters. No one goes against his word and it worries me that he didn't like you.”
Thraun shrugged. “What now?” he asked.
“I'm going into the library to check up on the defences around Arteche's ring. The heavy door you'll see to the right of the library leads to the crypts. Take a good look at the lock but I'd advise against turning the handle.”
She turned on her heel and walked into the Tower. She headed left and opened a wood-panelled door, then stopped and turned. “Don't—are you two all right?”
Thraun and Will had only taken one pace into the Tower before stopping. Both men had paled, eyes widening more in fear than in reaction to the half-light inside.
Will felt a weight settle on his body like a metal shroud. Oppressive and cloying, it squeezed his lungs and chilled his heart, breath catching in his throat. His eyes swept around the hall. Directly in front of him, a flight of stone stairs led upward into darkness, and to the right of them, a single closed iron-bound door.
Erienne stood by another door, and to her left, the one that led to the crypts sat next to the stairs. The half-light inside was spread by dim lanterns high on the walls, and from every panel a portrait glowered down—staring, enquiring, demanding. Beneath Will's feet, the stone-flagged floor was covered by a dark rug, and from every pore leaked power.
“Would you rather stay outside?” asked Erienne.
Thraun shook his head weakly. “No, we'll be all right.” Will was alert enough to shoot him a sharp glance. “What is it?”
“Mana,” said Erienne simply. “The legacy of ages. Lore Masters and mages. The living in the rooms above your head and the dead below. It's something you'll never be able to understand, but you can feel it, can't you? A dead weight for you and the purest form of life energy for me. I will draw strength while you merely endure.” She almost smiled. “I won't be long.” She turned and disappeared into the library, the door thudding home.
Behind Thraun and Will, the light was fading fast and the lanterns on the wall lightened in response. Will sank into a chair near the library while Thraun closed the main door.
“I wonder what she means by not being long?” he said.
“Hmm.” Thraun leaned against the lintel the other side of the library entrance. “I don't know. Whatever, it's going to seem an age in here.”
“Better make ourselves useful, then. Let's see about that lock.”
Denser dozed fitfully. In his half dreams, the Familiar struggled to free itself from a cage too strong to break. Its form swam from cat to true, its claws scrabbled, talons flashed, teeth rent, voice howled…Denser awoke, uneasy. He sent his thoughts through the gloom and relief flooded in as he felt the calm beat of the Familiar's force. He bade it be cautious.
In the street outside the College of Dordover, a black cat withdrew further into shadow, its eyes never shifting from the gate and its solitary guard, who sat smoking at his post.
“You must be seen to leave.” Erienne's search had been brief and she stood in the hall with Will and Thraun once more. Their wait had seemed interminable. Not a sound had registered in the Tower the entire time she was gone.
“And then?” asked Will.
“Wait until full dark, then come back. I'm staying to do a little more research.”
“Is the gate well guarded after dark?”
“No, same as daytime. Either way, I suggest you come over the wall behind the long room.”
“Isn't it spell-guarded, the wall?” Thraun shifted his stance; something wasn't quite right and it irritated in his subconscious.
“No.” Erienne shrugged. “Who'd want to break into a College grounds?”
“Who indeed?” Will smiled ruefully.
“Your problems start when you try
to get back in here.”
“Why leave then?”
“You aren't allowed in the College after dark. They'll kill you if they find you. Meet me in the library.”
Will nodded and led the way outside, gasping in the air as he stepped out into the dusk, the weight lifting from his body as quickly as it had settled. He glanced over his shoulder to see the door shut behind them, and he and Thraun hurried down the path, past the guard and out into the street.
Erienne stopped short of the door to the library, hand outstretched to the handle, at the sound of movement behind her.
“Erienne, Erienne,” said the Tower Master. “You of all people should know that the walls of the Tower have ears.”
In the shadows outside the College gate, the cat pricked its ears, feeling its hackles rise. It shifted, looked behind it, but there was nothing. From nowhere a hand clamped around its neck, pinning it to the ground. It could feel the mana shape which mimicked the shape of the hand, and fear swamped its senses.
“Don't think to change, little one. Your bones are thin beneath my fingers.”
The cat was lifted up to a face, dark, with long black hair tied back. The eyes, brown and narrow, bored into its skull. The man spoke again.
“I could smell you from within the walls,” he sneered, tightening the mana hand a little. “Let's see if we can't draw your master from his hiding place.” A bag, heavy with invested mana, covered the cat's head, cutting off its sub-vocal howl.
Denser's scream of pain shattered the peace of the woodland hiding place. Hirad jerked violently from his doze then sprang to his feet, hand already on the hilt of his sword. He ran the short distance to the stricken mage and took in Sol, who was standing nearby looking on in what appeared to be disinterest, if anything could be gained from the eyes behind the mask. Denser was hunched on his knees, hands clasped to the sides of his head, nose scraping the leaf mould. A dark trickle ran from a nostril.
“Denser?” He could see no wound, no reason for the mage's sudden cry. That scared him. He felt Ilkar and Jandyr at his shoulder. Ilkar went past and knelt by the Xeteskian, an arm about his shoulders.
“Denser?” asked Ilkar. “Can you speak?”
Denser gurgled and groaned, shuddering the length of his body. He gasped and allowed Ilkar to pull him upright. Even in the gathering gloom they could see his eyes dark with blood against his stark white face. He seemed years aged, and when he opened his mouth to speak, the muscles of his jaws spasmed. Blood ran from his mouth.
“They've taken him,” he managed in a voice thick with phlegm. “They've taken him to get me.”
“What?” Hirad was confused. “Taken who?”
“The Familiar,” said Ilkar. “A Dordovan mage must have captured it.”
“Why a mage?”
“Because no one else would have the power to keep it subdued.” Ilkar scratched his chin. “Gods, this is serious.”
“I've got to get there,” said Denser, starting to rise.
“No way, Denser.” Ilkar held him down. “They'll destroy you.” The mages stared at each other.
“They'll hold him till he dies. What then? What then?” Denser's eyes were desperate, his body shivering with the aftershock.
Ilkar shook his head. “I don't know…oh, no.”
“What?” Hirad stopped halfway to resheathing his sword.
“Thraun, Will, Erienne. The College are going to be expecting something, aren't they? And those three are pig in the middle. How much chance do you reckon that gives them?”
“But there's no way they could link them with the cat, is there?” said Jandyr.
“It doesn't matter,” replied Ilkar. “The College'll be on high alert once the capture of the Familiar is announced. They'll think Xeteskians are about and no one will get in or out, believe me.”
Hirad rammed his blade home the rest of the way.
“Oh, that's just great. Not only will Denser have his brain fried when the cat dies, but we're going to lose half our people without claiming the ring.” He walked away a few paces and kicked at a tree, cursing under his breath. “Anyone got any bright ideas or do we just serve ourselves up to the Wytch Lords now?”
“I'm going to get him,” said Denser. “I can't leave him in there. You don't understand.”
“There's only one person who can try to find out what's going on, and that's me,” said Jandyr. “I'll saddle up and go.”
“Thank you,” said Ilkar. He switched his attention to Denser. “Remember why we're all here and remember the people who have died so far. If you stamp off into Dordover you'll just be committing suicide and all we've achieved will be wasted.”
He paused and glanced up at Sol. The Protector's eyes were hidden by the gloom but Ilkar knew he was looking at them.
“You understand all this. It's up to you to see he stays put.” He squeezed Denser's shoulder. “I'm sorry. I know the depth of the bond. I'm sorry for the pain you've suffered and for the pain you still have to face. But Dawnthief is bigger than any of us, you said so yourself. You are hearing me, aren't you?”
Denser nodded and slumped against Ilkar's body. He looked up into the Julatsan's face, tears brimming in his eyes.
Will and Thraun saw it happen, knew straight away that it wasn't just a man snatching a stray cat, but didn't know what it meant. Crouching deep in shadow outside the College and near the wall by the long room, they reached a decision quickly enough.
“We said we'd go back,” said Thraun. “She could be in trouble.”
“I know you're right but can we really help in there?” Will jerked a thumb at the College.
“We'd better hope so. We do have one ace up our sleeve.”
“Hmm.” Will eyed Thraun, a frown creasing his brow. “There's always that, though I didn't like the way that old man stared at you, like he knew something. And to be fair, there's no way they would connect Erienne with the cat, it's a Xeteskian beast. Still…” He trailed off and shrugged.
“I know,” said Thraun. He studied the sky. “We'd better get inside. I'd hate to be late.”
Though smooth, the wall was no challenge. Will swarmed over it in seconds and it was low enough for Thraun to jump and catch the top edge. Within a minute, they were behind the long room.
The building was dread and sinister. The walls were scarcely taller than Thraun and the roof swept down either side, overlapping almost to ground level. Clad in iron, the strength and weight had to be immense, and when Will touched the wall he flinched. It was warm. But there was more; an aura similar to that they had experienced in the Tower, but uncontrolled somehow. Dangerous.
“Can we move from here?” His unease was heightened by a creak in the metal.
“It would be a pleasure.” Thraun started off along the length of the building, heading toward the Tower but shielded from it. His eyes, sharp and clear, picked out every twig and dry leaf. Behind him, Will, through long years of experience, concentrated solely on placing his feet in the imprints left by Thraun, which he could just make out in the darkness.
The two men moved like ghosts through the College, so quiet that someone two paces away could miss them with back turned. They stopped at the corner of the long room and studied the Tower. Light came from three windows and lanterns hung either side of the main doors. The ground floor was completely dark, but between them and more welcoming shadow were thirty yards of open space.
“Any ideas?”
“Just one,” replied Thraun.
Erienne laid the unconscious body of the Tower Master in a far corner of the cavernous library, making him as comfortable as possible.
Her action had been swift and without error, her straight punch catching him square on the jaw. He'd crumpled into her arms and she'd dragged the dead weight into the library, panting at the sudden exertion. With the door closed, she'd shaped a gentle sleeping spell which would keep him under the entire night.
When she stopped moving, the enormity of what she'd done struck her like fallin
g rock. She pulled out a desk chair and slumped into it, hands over her face, elbows on the desk and tears beginning to prick at her eyes.
That the Tower Master had heard her conversation with Thraun and Will was bad—his suspicions would be plenty enough to see her expelled from the College. But to have struck him and then disabled him with magic…they'd tear her brain to pieces. Her only hope now was to avoid capture and pray the circumstances of the deception would mitigate future punishment. Either way, she couldn't ever see herself setting foot in Dordover or its College again.
After a few moments to gather herself, she moved to kneel by the Tower Master, and smoothed a strand of hair from his face.
“I am sorry. But underneath it all, you are still just an old, old man. Please forgive me.” She rose. “It is not a betrayal. I'm trying to save us all.” The Tower Master lay still, his gently moving chest the only indication he was alive at all.
Twitching aside a heavy drape, Erienne checked the sky and frowned in surprise. Full dark had come. She'd had no idea she'd dallied in the library so long and there was one question she hadn't answered. She hurried to a shelf and dragged off a large volume. She leafed through the pages quickly, scanning for the information she knew had to be there.
Denser turned the Understone Pass Commander's badge he'd taken from Travers over and over in his hands. It was hard to see in the lessening light and he augmented his sight for a better look.
The badge itself was quite plain, though its importance to the survival of Balaia could not be measured. Formed from an amalgam of gold and steels it was about three-quarters the width of his palm and ringed with an embossed leaf design. In its centre, an intricate engraving of the southern entrance to the pass gleamed at him and on the reverse were etched the names of previous commanders.
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