Redeeming the Lost

IV Father and Daughter

Mother? Mother, where are you?

I woke, groggy, from my half dream, my wits scattered to the four winds, deeply unsure of time or place. Who was that calling for her mother? What did she mean, I wasn't there ... no, she wasn't... it wasn't me ...

I was slumped into a corner in a stone room. Why wasn't I in my bed? This was Hadronsstead, wasn't it? A flicker of thought told me Hadron was dead, I must be in the tent on the Dragon Isle—but that wasn't stone—the tiny Silent Service hut we—no, we all slept on the floor but it wasn't stone either—some strange inn?

Memory rushed back as I blinked and stood up. It wasn't easy, I was cold and stiff all over, and my wounds burned. Probably infected by the Rikti. I couldn't imagine how I had fallen asleep at all, but I suppose there is a price to be paid for the land of mad strength I'd had. I hoped Marik's every breath burned his throat.

Unfortunately, I now remembered only too well where I was, and what lay before me. Berys's dungeon. Hell blast and bugger it.

As best I could tell that first moment of waking, it was mid-afternoon, but I didn't have time to pay much attention as there were two of Beryss bloody huge guards looming over me. The larger of the two pulled me to my feet and closed my wrists in manacles, heavy iron bracelets with a short chain between the two. I noted, still groggy, that it was very peculiar to see this all happening but to hear nothing. It was desperately unreal, as if it were happening to someone else.

The larger of the bears attached a second length of chain to the first, then bolted my leash to a ring set in the stones of the wall. It allowed me very little movement, which presumably was the intention. What worried me was why they were taking this precaution now—and there he was, Berys, waiting in the open doorway with a smug grin on his face.

Suddenly I was very awake indeed. I threw my weight against the chain and succeeded only in battering my wrists. I soon gave it up, but my heart was thumping horribly in my chest. Goddess, this is it, he's going to sacrifice me right now, I thought desperately. Mother Shia, help me and my babes! I cried out in true-speech with all the strength I could muster. Nothing. It was like shouting into a pillow.

I tried to speak to Berys, but his spell was still in force and I made no sound. He seemed amused by my attempt, so much so that he raised one corner of his mouth in a disturbing smile and waved his right hand. 'Tou still haven't learned, have you? Feel free to exhaust yourself fighting iron chain. It amuses me."

"The only thing that would amuse me would be your violent death, sooner rather than later," I snarled, and was surprised to hear myself speak. Instantly I turned to the bear on my right. "He will break faith with you, you know. It's only a matter of time until he needs another sacrifice and you're the only one around," I said. The guard didn't even look at me.

"Just because I can hear you, don't assume anyone else can," said Berys smugly. "I'm really quite good at selective deafness. As you may have noticed."

But I had my voice back now, for a blessed moment. And at that instant, even Berys's voice was better than nothing. Though I expected nothing soon enough.

"Hello again," said a cheerful voice from the door, and there was Marik bearing a torch and smiling broadly. His hair was wet and he smelled as though he had just had a bath, the bastard. I felt like I hadn't bathed in a year. "Oh, dear, looks like the Rikti had fun playing with you," he said, grinning. It was quite repellent and I wished he'd stop, but he didn't.

"Why are you so damned cheerful?" I growled.

His smile broadened. "Why do you think, girl? This day I am free of the pain that has afflicted me since before you were born. Do you have any idea what I have been going through?"

"Hideous torment, I hope," I replied.

"Knives," he hissed, all his lightness gone in the instant. He leaned towards me and I swear I could feel his hatred beating against my skin. "I have lived with knives stabbing into my leg, sleeping and waking, for more than twenty years. Pain at rest, pain in movement, pain in every step I have taken every day of the world, since I paid for the Farseer I never got to use, thanks to your dear mother. Yes," he said, straightening up, the manic edge coming back into his voice and manner, "you will do nicely."

"Stop wittering and help me," commanded Berys. Marik went to help him set up what looked like an altar on the hard bed, putting candles in holders, lighting the coals in a small brazier. My heart dropped like a stone and I struggled desperately against the manacles. I might as well have saved my strength.

Berys started so chant, quietly, and Marik wandered back to me. He came right up to me, fascinated by something. Far too close for comfort in any case.

His eyes never left mine as he said, "Do you know, Berys, I have been learning things again. I do believe you will find my latest information interesting."

"I don't give a damn what you've learned," snapped Berys. "Not now! Draw back her sleeve, I need a sample."

Marik, stung by Berys's scorn, sneered and muttered, "Then I shall save my news until it pleases me to tell you."

Dear Goddess, he hasn't told Berys yet that I'm pregnant. I sent a wordless prayer of thanks winging to Mother Shia for that strange mercy. It could not last long, surely, but every moment of my tormentor's ignorance was precious.

Turning to the guards, Marik snapped, "Hold her fast." He pulled back the sleeve of my grubby tunic and the dingy linen shirt underneath—and suddenly a knife appeared in Marik's hand and he sliced my arm open. I cried out, in pain and shock, while he told the guards to hold me still as he collected in a brass cup the blood that flowed freely from the deep wound.

"You fool," said Berys crossly. "We only needed a small sample." He gestured again with his right hand, as if he were throwing something at me—a bolt of dark blue Healers power, shot through with black, struck my arm. For the first second it felt like Healer's power, but the instant it began to work I started screaming in earnest. The pain of the wound was nothing to the pain of this "healing"—it was as if he had applied a poultice of concentrated stinging nettle to my open wound. My blood flowed even more freely, as if to wash off Berys's attempt at healing, and somehow that helped. Berys frowned and gestured to Marik, who against his inclination wrapped my arm tightly. The bright blood bloomed through several thicknesses of bandage, but eventually it slowed enough to content Berys.

"What in the name of the Goddess do you need that for, anyway?" I asked through gritted teeth, trying to ignore the pain in my arm.

"I do nothing in the name of the Goddess, but if you must know, girl, I am preparing a great work," replied Berys. He seemed to have picked up something of Marik's mood and added cheerfully, "I simply need to know that all will go smoothly. You are going to be part of history. You should be honoured."

"You should rot in the deepest Hell, but that isn't happening either," I snarled. Berys laughed and turned away, starting to chant again.

And now Marik stood directly before me, still staring. He seemed to be looking for something in my eyes. I was determined that he would find only disdain and anger. Never fear. Never despair.

"Proud of yourself, are you, Marik?" I sneered. "So, I'm finally to be given to the demons. So impressive. It's only taken you, what, twenty-four years to find me? And now you have me, chained and helpless, one woman against you and your pet demon-master, and your—trained bears." The guard still didn't move a muscle, damn it. "Very brave. Well done. What will you do for your next astounding feat? And do you honestly think Berys is going to let you live long enough to manage it?"

Berys started moving his hand and his stump to make figures in the air above the altar. Marik leaned closer to me and spoke quietly. "Oh, you have no idea, girl. In a few hours the Healers in every outpost of the House of Gundar, throughout the Four Kingdoms, will turn the world on its head. Every city, every town with enough folk to make it worth my while, will soon be full of people in constant fear of what evil a nasty Healer might do. Even those we didn't manage to influence will be shunned, as there is no way of knowing the difference." He grinned, a wild, unbalanced grin, no more than one step from insanity. "When brave King Marik comes to rid them of this terrible demonic oppression they will hail him as their new master. With delight. I shall come to the throne of the Four Kingdoms on a wave of acclamation."

He was very near now, relishing his power over me, and floating into my mind came Jamie's voice, clear as if he stood beside me, from those midnight sessions where he taught me to defend myself without a weapon. If there's a man you need to drop fast, Lanen...

"You'll come to the throne bloody well limping," I growled. My arms were bound and held, but my legs were free. I lifted my knee as hard and fast as I could. He doubled over and fell to the ground, turning his back to me. Amazing. Just what Jamie said would happen. I aimed my kick just to one side of his backbone, between the hips and the ribs, and by luck managed to hit the place Jamie had told me about. It was wonderful. He appeared to be in agony, which suited me just fine.

The guards, bless them, were slow to react, but they finally thought to drag Marik away. Berys, turning, didn't seem in the least concerned. "Put him in the far corner, she can't reach him there," he said, disgusted. 'Then leave us."

They laid Marik gently on the stone floor and covered him with the blanket. He was gasping with pain, but his great friend Berys turned to look at him, said, "You'll live," and turned back to his altar.

Whatever he was doing, it appeared to be working. He threw a few lansip leaves on the little fire, and for an instant there was a most incredible scent in that horrible place, the very smell of the Dragon Isle itself. I closed my eyes and inhaled. Just in time, as it happens, for the next moment a terrible reek and a great cloud of smoke arose from his little brazier, and the figure of a demon appeared. This one had huge eyes to go with its outsized mouth. It also appeared to be wrapped in a chain.

'Tremble, mortal, for I am—" began the demon, but Berys tugged at the chain and the thing screamed.

"You are in my power. Don't be stupid. You have the simplest of tasks. Taste this blood and let me know if it will be acceptable to—" Here he said something that I thought might be a name, but I couldn't understand it.

"Will it be offered in full or in part?" the thing asked, gazing hungrily at the cup in Berys's hand.

"In part, at first," said Berys.

"Give," the demon demanded, and yelped again as Berys twisted the chain around it.

"You obey me for the price," he said, and the thing bowed. "Take," he commanded, and offered it the brass cup full of my blood.

The demon took it and drank it all down at once, whereupon it screamed far louder and more convincingly than it had at Berys's hands. It didn't stop screaming, and as it didn't seem to need to breathe, the noise was appalling. It was obviously in agony. I couldn't tell, exactly, but it looked as though it was trying to rid itself of the blood but couldn't. It finally managed to say the words "broken" and "contract," and Berys yelped. He sent what looked like black fire towards the thing—a kind of reversed Healer's light—and a stream of blood, presumably mine, flowed out of its mouth onto the stone floor. It finally stopped screaming.

"What in all the Seven Hells happened?' cried Berys. "It is only blood, there is nothing in it that could—"

"Kantrissshakrim!" the demon hissed. "You fed me blood of the Kantrissshakrrrim! I will dessstroy you!"

Berys stood still as death, staring in utter astonishment. The demon tried to get at him, but the binding held. Berys shook himself and said, "Only your death would break the contract. All is done, you are released."

"Payment!" it cried.

"You were paid with lansip when I summoned you. You have not done as I demanded, you are owed nothing. Go!"

The demon hissed like a cauldron full of snakes and disappeared with a loud bang and a reek of rotten eggs.

Berys turned to me, frowning in frantic calculation, his eyes narrowing as he started to pace back and forth in front of my cell, muttering to himself. "How is it possible? You are human, I know it, your father lies there and your mother was but a vessel made use of. Human born of human. You cannot be other, but you are." He glanced for an instant at the smoke still hovering above the brazier. "Demonstrably."

Then his frown disappeared and his eyes opened so wide I could see white all around. And I thought he looked insane before.

"Kantri and Gedri blood. Can it be? How in the—no, forget how. You! Speak truth!" he cried, and cast a cloud of that darkness at me. I took a deep breath and held it before the cloud reached me. "Speak! Your blood is Kantri and Gedri mixed?" he demanded.

"Go to the deepest Hell and rot there," I said with the last of my air, when I knew I could hold my breath no longer. I was forced to breathe in that blackness—but I could not. It was like trying to breathe soil. I had choked nearly to death when he dissipated it. I knelt, desperately gasping sweet air into my burning chest, as he stared. And then he started to laugh.

That was worse than hearing the demon scream.

Berys laughed loud and long, and eventually came close to me. I shrank as far back as I could.

"I do not know what has changed you, or how, or why," he said, exhilarated, "but as of this moment, you are the most precious creature in all the world to me."

Marik stirred at this. His breathing was returning to normal and he sat up, wincing. "I don't see what's so wonderful about her," he said, his voice rough. "In any case, I'm sure it will still be wonderful when her soul is gone to pay off my demons."

"Hmm—true enough, I suppose. Though it's a bother I didn't need this night," sighed Berys, peeved. "However, I don't need her soul for anything in particular, and she will surely be easier to transport if her will is gone. I will perform the sacrifice this very night before we leave, if only to shut you up about it."

"About damn time," growled Marik, climbing slowly to his feet. He stood before me, just out of reach, his face distorted by the mixture of triumph and hatred. "These are your last hours, girl," he growled, adding in a voice only I could hear, "all of you." Then, louder, "Suffer as I have suffered, sure in the knowledge that before midnight your soul will be in thrall forever to a Lord of Hell." He laughed then, a soul-chilling laugh because it sounded so normal. As if he laughed at a slight witticism rather than rejoicing in the hideous fate he planned for me.

I stood up straight, summoned what defiance I could muster, and responded, "I am alone and unarmed. What you say may indeed come to pass." I forced myself to attempt a smile, anything to plant some seed of doubt in Marik's mind. "But you are, of your own free will, actively sacrificing your only child to the powers of darkness. How do you hope to escape the same fate I shall suffer?"

He smiled. "As long as you go first, I don't really care." He turned and left, whistling. Berys, once his bears had cleared away the trappings of his altar, stopped and grinned at me. "Soon," he said, as he summoned his Healer's power and gestured at me.

"Sleep," he said.

I knew no more.

Well, I admired Varien's dedication, but you'd not get me running down that road in the dark so soon after a decent meal. I'd get a stitch in my side in no time, and I expected he would too. But there, he was following his love.

Well, so was I.

I glanced over at Aral, almost unconsciously sitting beside Vilkas as she spoke with Maran. As though it were her natural place. She chose not to notice that Vil, close as a brother to her, had never indicated that he felt anything other than that for her. I noticed. He had never said... we had never spoken of her in that way, but after these two years I knew them both weD enough. That churning soul, never at rest even in sleep: he did not long for Aral as I did, as a man longs for a woman, but he needed her desperately. It was that she sensed. It can be a powerful attraction for a young woman, knowing that you make a genuine difference in a man's life, that you are truly needed. It is not enough, of itself, to make anything other than friendship, but Aral was very young. I knew she loved him and that he did not return it, and when we had all three been cast by Berys to float on the tides of the world, I had resolved to be with her when she came to need me, for that day would surely come.

I was interrupted by Gair, the landlord and a friend of mine. 'Lo, Willem," he said, cheerily. "You are right welcome, you and your friends who pay good silver in good time!"

I grinned. "Well, if you can't make your hints any broader than that, I'll not pay you until I see you next." To still his spluttering protests I drew forth a small handful of silver and paid the shot I'd run up over the last few months.

Gair took it with thanks, and said with some amusement, "You'll never credit it, but I heard some of the old lads talking about dragons this afternoon! Can you imagine? Dragons!"

I raised my eyebrows and stared at him. "You amaze me."

"Sure as life. They sat out there"—he gestured to the common room—"and said they'd seen dragons—not the little ones, the big ones! Like in the children's tales!" He laughed. "Perhaps I'd best cut the ale with more water next time!"

"Gair, where have you been this day long?" I asked, as innocently as I could. Goddess, it was hard to keep a straight face.

"Cooking all day, since before dawn," he said. "This is my baking day. You're lucky, I made extra bread and those honeycakes on a whim. Mind you, I expected that roast to last me all week. I'll have to start another tomorrow." He looked around. "You don't think all this food just appears from nowhere, do you? It's taken me most of the day, starting when late turns to early. Why, what's been happening?"

"Have you never looked out your door, man?" I asked, stunned.

"Only to look away south and wonder what was keeping the trade away."

I took him by the shoulders and drew him back into his kitchen, trying not to laugh. "Gair, my friend—the old men were right. There are dragons here. Now. Not just the little ones, the Lesser Kindred—though they are come into their own. They can speak and reason now, Gair, the little dragons. They are intelligent."

"Never!" he cried, eyes wide. "Impossible! I've seen the creatures in the woods for years, they're no brighter than cattle!"

"Believe me. Awake and aware and capable of speech." I started to smile, watching his face. "And, Gair—breathe, man, life has changed but all's well enough—the True Dragons are here as well. They arrived this morning."

He went from astounded to annoyed in the instant. "Nonsense!" he scoffed. "It can't be. They're not real, man!"

'Then I've been talking with tales all the day long, aye, and for some days since," I said, trying not to laugh.

"But—but in the tales they're huge, they couldn't come and— not be—seen—Will, you bastard, you've seen them!"

"Gair, you idiot, they only bloody well landed in your field!" I said, laughing openly now. "Damn near two hundred of them, not half a mile away—oh, no—I suppose it's nearer four hundred now."

"What!" I could see the white all around his eyes.

"Oh, don't worry, they're not breeding that fast," I said, snorting. "No, no. It was quite a show, but one of the big ones and two of the folk out there managed to—oh, never mind, it's too long a tale. But be told. They are here, they're as big as legend makes them, they're brighter than you or I will ever be, and they're— they're good folk, Gair. As long as you tell them the truth. They can spot a he a league off."

Gair didn't speak. I don't think he could. I was casting about for some way to reassure him when Rella came to the door. "Have you run out of ale, landlord?" she asked brightly.

"D-d-d-dragons!" Gair yelled. "Dragons! It's the end of the world!"

"Don't be stupid, man. It's a new start, and you're one of the first to know about it," she said. That seemed to get through, a little. At least he was breathing again.

"A new—a new start?" he asked. "How? How can we fight something like that?"

"Goddess, man, there's no need to fight them! They're creatures of Order. Trade with them! They are new-come to this place, they have no food, no shelter." She grinned then, moved close to him, and murmured conspiratorially, "You do know what they say about dragons, don't you? Think, man! What do they sleep on, hmmm?"

At least he knew his children's tales. "Every fool knows they sleep on beds of go—" The transformation was nearly magical. Where a moment before horror had reigned, now greed opened his eyes wider and brought a mad smile to his face. I'd seen that smile earlier in the day, when I told Timeth of his great good fortune. Rella grinned. "Good lad," she said cheerily. I nodded to him and took the ale to where the others sat.

I woke suddenly in darkness and was just starting to curse Hygel for a liar when there came a knock at the door.

"Master, are you waked?" said a young voice. "There's a man to see you i' the common room. Will ye come?"

"Aye. Come and light my candle, lad, I can't even find the door latch it's that dark in here," I replied. The voice proved to belong to a young lad of maybe ten years, who wandered in, lit the candle by the door from the candle he carried, and disappeared. I went to the basin and splashed my face with cold water, for I was still muzzy from sleep. It helped a bit.

The common room was lit by several lamps as well as by the fire, but despite that—or perhaps because of it—there was a generous helping of shadowy corners. Hygel came over to me, shook his head, and muttering something about what the cat dragged in, led me to a dimly fit alcove where sat a man of about my own age. He looked nothing special, short dark hair well salted with grey, a trim beard with more grey than dark, a nondescript cloak thrown around his shoulders against the cold nights of early spring. When he stood, though, his eyes gleamed in the firelight, and I saw the mind behind them awake and on guard.

"Magister Rikard, this is the man I told you of." Hygel glanced at me, muttered, "Good luck," and left us to it.

"I don't believe in wasting time, sir," said Rikard, swiftly seating himself. All his movements were quick and precise like his speech, and his eyes were sharp and bright. "I have known Hygel for years, and if he vouches for you, I am willing to at least begin with you, but he says you have impugned the Archimage. How do you dare to speak ill of so good a man?"

"I've known him longer than you, if not as well," I replied cautiously. "Though to say truth, I would not so corrupt the word 'good' as to speak it in the same breath."

"I have had concerns myself," he said, equally cautious. "If you have a complaint to make against the Archimage, I pray you, tell me. He surely would not be pleased to know that there were those who felt ill-used by him."

I said nothing.

"Well? What's wrong?" he snapped.

"I don't know you, Magister. I barely know Hygel, and neither of you knows me from Fanner Jon's off ox. And none of us can afford to be wrong."

"Goddess knows, that's true enough," he said. "Though a legitimate complaint would have to be investigated. We healers are not ruled by the Archimage, but led by him. Even he is answerable to the Council of Mages assembled."

"Would the word of one man, unknown to any of you, have any weight in that Council?" I asked wearily.

"It might, if you have proof, or another witness," he replied. "Have you?"

'The proof of my own eyes and those of half a dozen others, of spiriting a"—I took a deep breath, and pitched my voice low that it might not crack—"of spiriting my daughter away from me and from her husband some four days since. But I don't know where he is. I need help."

To my surprise Rikard closed his eyes, as if in pain. "Shia keep you, Master Jamie," he said, wincing. When he looked up again, those sharp eyes were more gentle. "I really am a Healer, you know," he said quietly. "I've been doing this for forty years, I don't need to summon power to see your pain. The merest glance— very well. Let us start again. I am Magister Rikard, of the College of Mages. How may I help save your daughter? Is she ill?"

"No. She's in the power of the bastard you serve, and I fear with every breath I take that he'll murder her soon if he hasn't already."

Rikard caught his breath, and his eyes widened. "Why has he taken her?" he asked urgently.

"I have no idea, though I think it might be to put her in the power of Marik of Gundar." Her father, as it happens, but you don't need to know that. "What I don't know is where he has taken her. Is Berys here at the College?"

"I spoke with him not half an hour gone."

I felt a great weight lift from off my shoulders. "Blessed be Shia. If he's here, she's here." \

"How can you be certain?" asked Rikard quietly.

"I can't, not entirely," I said quietly. "He might have murdered her by now; but if she lives he'll have her close. Likely in one of those old detention cells, if you don't know different. I know not what he needs her for, but certain sure he's not stolen her away for her health."

"May the Goddess bless you forever, Master Jamie," said Rikard, his eyes gleaming in the dim light. "I've been trying to get hard evidence against him for years." Suddenly he drew back. "Though I warn you, if you are lying, Healer or no I'll have it out of your hide."

"He really is a twisty bastard, isn't he?" I chuckled. "Goddess. If you're looking for treachery everywhere—no wonder he's grown so strong."

Rikard sat back. "It's true. Though I have no real reason to trust you." His gaze never left mine, and after a while he added wearily, "Right now, I don't even care. I'm sick unto death of it all. If you're working for him, so be it. I'd rather have an open fight than creep about suspicious of everyone for the rest of my life." His eyes began to gleam again in the firelight. "And if you speak truth—Goddess, I've been looking for proof against him for years now."

"You haven't been looking in the right places," I snorted. "Hells, I saw him murder a poor babe near twenty-five years gone, making a Farseer. He was a demon-master then. Lady Shia only knows what he is now."

"Will you denounce him in public?" asked Rikard. The change in him was amazing—he looked now like a drawn sword ready to strike. "Will you dare repeat such things to the assembled Council of Mages?"

"I'll cry it in the town square if you like, but first"—I grabbed a fistful of his robe and pulled him close to me—"first I get my daughter out of his hands."

"Agreed," he said calmly. "Let go of me, please, and listen carefully. The passwords you will need are very simple."

"M'name's Gerander," I said, sweeping off my recently acquired cap. "I'm Magister Rikard's new man, come to sign in."

"Left it a bit late, haven't you, Gerander?" asked the man at the gate, suspiciously. As well he might be. I had been living rough for some time, I had put on my grubbiest clothes, and I had to admit that I looked more than a bit suspect. That was the idea. Let him see the clothing, not the man, and I could pass easily enough later without being recognised. "And you've chosen the wrong name to call, Magister Rikard is—"

"Is here, Norris, thank you," said Rikard briskly. "I know, he's not very prepossessing, but there's a good man under all that grime. I'll have him wash and get him a set of server's gear so he won't offend you. Or me," he said, with a wink at Norris. We both passed through the gates, I under intense inspection, and into the courtyard. It was not brightly lit, but the lantern I carried shed enough light that I could see the small gratings off to my right, where Rikard said she was most likely being held. I contrived to walk to the right of the Magister, stomping my feet a little that I might get an idea of the echo and the sound.

As I passed the third along I thought the echo sounded a little dull. That was the ruined one, I'd been told—but I didn't believe more than half of what I'd heard. Oh, surely those who spoke thought they spoke true, but they weren't nearly suspicious enough of Berys. I'd lay money Lanen was there, in that "ruined" cell. My heart beat faster—she was so close—if I had a dragon's strength I could have torn a hole in the stone wall and dragged her out, if I left now and rode like fury I could get Shikrar or one of the other really big ones—

No. No time. Rikard had said Berys had called on all the College to gather after they had eaten. That meant about now. I hurried to catch up with Rikard, who walked quite calmly until he was out of sight of the guard at the gate. Then he grabbed my sleeve and we both ran. His chambers were nearby and he locked the door behind us.

As I was throwing off my worst garments and swiftly darkening my face and hands with soot from the little grate, I begged a scrap of parchment and the use of pen and ink. I scribbled a brief note as Rikard went over the directions we had rehearsed.

"Back out into the corridor, turn left, take the first corridor to your right and then the little stairs down to the left. It's not very far along, mind or you'll miss it in the dark." I folded the little scrap of parchment and tucked it in my scrip. Rikard handed me the dark lantern he had lit from his own lamp, and a small key. "Once you've got her out, bring her back here to my chambers. That's the spare key to these rooms, so she can lock herself in here. Then you keep the rest of your bargain—keep straight along the corridor in front of this room, along to the end, then right, it's the fourth door on the right, a big double door of old oak. You listen carefully outside that to see how the wind's blowing. If you hear a lot of shouting, come in and be ready to defend yourself."

"I'll do my best. And Magister—" I caught his eye. "Thank you."

"Get her out, son, and then you can help me bring down that devil," he growled. "With Shia's blessing, we'll have done a fine night's work between us."

I nodded to him and slipped out into the corridor, dark lantern in my hand, keeping to the shadows and moving as fast as I dared.

I strode towards the meeting chamber. My heart beat faster, knowing that I finally might have a way to depose Berys. Hard proof, after all these years! I sent a blessing on Jamie's errand, wondering briefly if I should have asked him to bring the girl before the assembly as further proof. No matter, if she was wanted she could be fetched once he had her safe in my quarters.

The doors to the chamber stood open, but unusually there were guards at the door. I didn't recognise either of them, and they were roughly twice my size.

And very heavily armed.

If I had not chanced to meet with Jamie that evening, I truly believe I would not have noticed. Perhaps it was that little touch of fear, of his being discovered, that had me on the alert. The presence of two such large and well-appointed strangers at such a time was very peculiar indeed. I glanced into the chamber without going in. It was already full.

In fact it was brimming over. Every Magister—well, nearly every one, a few came along behind me and wandered in, chatting of nothing much—every student was there. Even the paid servers.

It was so very, very wrong.

And in the moment, there flashed before my eyes the sight of my old friends, Magistra Erthik and Magister Caillin, dead outside the door of the student Vilkas. I knew Vilkas, I had worked with him, and Erthik had known him even better. She had been tutoring him along with his inseparable friend, Aral. Those two young souls could no more have murdered Magistra Erthik than they could—

—than they could have withstood Berys if he'd caught them. He had called an assembly to denounce them for trafficking with demons even before the murders were discovered. I had never believed it for a moment.

I took a step back from the door. The guard on the right gazed at me. "What's wrong, Magister? The Archimage is waiting, you are the last to arrive." He reached out to grasp my arm.

I flooded his system with sleep and did the same to the other. They dropped between one breath and another. A second pair of like men were striding down the central aisle towards the doors, and I drew in a breath and made myself invisible.

Not true invisibility, you understand, that's impossible, but any who sought me would not see me unless they were as powerful as I. Their eyes would latch on to anything else, anything at all, that was not me. I moved swiftly and as silently as I could, lest the other guards should have better abilities than I feared. One, indeed, went to the place I had been, but the confusion took him and he could see only his sleeping comrades. He bent over and began shaking them.

I backed down the corridor, going as quickly as I could without making noise. The few scuffs of my shoes on the stone floor were covered by the commotion that swiftly surrounded the sleeping guards.

When I was out of their line of sight, I ran, down the corridors and out into the courtyard, as far as I could go.

And if you must know, yes. No day goes by, no night have I spent since untroubled by my memory of that terrible, terrifying cowardice. I knew as certainly as if I had seen it happen that most, or all, of the people in that room were going to be dead before morning. I also knew—or felt—or feared—that I could do nothing for them by bravely dying with them. It was too late for warnings.

Perhaps if I had shouted to them, before the armed guards killed me, more might have escaped.

Perhaps I'd have just been killed with them, and even greater evil would have blighted all of Kolmar.

Let you take some comfort, then, in the fact that the name of "coward" from others does not affect me in the slightest. For it can never have the force from other mouths that it has from my own soul, red with spilled blood and black with leaden guilt, every day of my life.