She Who Has No Name

CHAPTER THREE

Samuel and Goodfellow awoke and ate early while the majority of the palace was still sleeping. It was mostly the domestic staff who were awake and busied at such an hour, preparing for the coming day in their neat uniforms. Armed checkpoints were still in place and the soldiers saw to their duties with solid Turian precision, showing no sign of sleepiness or lack of attention.

After breakfast, the pair readied their travelling packs and went out into the palace grounds to meet Grand Master Anthem as they had agreed. There was a great sense of urgency to their new plan and Samuel was only glad that they had been afforded the luxury of being allowed to sleep before leaving. He was sure that if General Ruardin had been allowed his way, they would have been set upon their horses and sent off to Ghantin the middle of the night,

Anthem was waiting there, with a set of stablehands nearby with horsesat the ready. The old man had visited their room late in the night and given them a brief outline of the situation. It had been decided that Goodfellow should also go along, and the spectacled young magician was happy to oblige. It seemed a note had been found during the night, exactly as Celios had predicted, so it seemed the old seer’s visions were,indeed,proving true. Still, it did not put Samuel any more at ease. He only hoped he lived up to the Desert Queen’s expectations.

‘Is everything set to go?’ Samuel asked.

‘There have been a few changes since we last spoke,’ the old man revealed. Almost as if on cue, Grand Master Tudor and Eric Pot appeared through the nearby hedge gate and began approaching, also carrying their light travel packs. ‘I know you and Eric have not been seeing eye to eye recently, but it’s time to put all that behind you. He is one of the most powerful magicians we have, and we are investing all our resources into this mission. The fate of the Empire depends on it-perhaps even more.’

Samuel took a deep breath. ‘Very well.I understand,’ he replied despondently.

‘Also, I will not be accompanying you. Grand Master Tudor will lead the party.’

‘Why is that?’ Goodfellow asked with concern.

‘Grand Master Gallivan and I will be heading north. We aim to pierce the Paatin force and make for Garteny. There we will endeavour to meet with King Otgart and forge an alliance against this new threat. Grand Master Tudor has some experience in the desert. Admittedly, it was some time ago, but he has the rudimentary knowledge of such lands that will be required.’

‘Do you think King Otgart will be responsive?’ Goodfellow asked.

‘In these days, Master Goodfellow, who knows? I just hope he still has some sense left in his head. We can only try. Together we have more chance of repelling the Paatin but,if the desert people have decided not to further harass his lands, then I see little benefit in him joining us. Better for him to wait until the Empire’s demise. The Paatin will be doing his work for him. My task will be to convince him that such a situation would not be to his favour; although I still haven’t worked out quite how I will manage that, but Gallivan and I will think of something along the way. We always do.’

Just then, Grand Master Tudor and Eric arrived at their sides. Eric walked straight past them and to the horses, chose one,and began strapping his pack to it.

‘Everyone ready?’ Tudor asked and then turned to Anthem. ‘Have you given them all the bad news?’

‘Not quite,’ Anthem responded.

‘There’s more?’ Samuel asked.

‘Just a little,’ Anthem admitted. ‘Master Celios had another minor revelation during the night. Although at first he was sure the arrival of the Koians was some blight upon us and spent all night screaming about our doom, he now believes their arrival has some deeper meaning.’

‘No,’ Samuel uttered with disbelief, guessing what his old teacher was about to suggest.

‘Unfortunately, yes,’ Anthem returned. ‘The Koian party will be accompanying you as far as Ghant. He feels they will be required there or at some point along the way. Whatforexactly, he cannot say.’

‘Are you sure that’s wise?’ the ever-practical Goodfellow asked. ‘We know nothing about them.’

‘No,it’snot at allwise,’ Anthem admitted, ‘but Master Celios spat the statement out in front of everyone, so there’s no retracting it now. He is the infallible Seer of Cintar and the old Emperor’s most trusted of magical advisers. If General Ruardin alone had heard him, that would have sealed the matter, but he leapt up in the middle of our meeting and announced it for all to hear. I’m afraid that is how it is going to be.’

‘And what do the Koians think about this?’ Samuel asked, full of ire.

‘They did not need much persuading. I spoke to Ambassador Canyon at length last night and he revealed many interesting things about his people. He, himself, is a man of many layers. They have recovered their strength rather quickly and seem eager to repay us for our hospitality. They are a pride-driven people and will go to great lengths to assist us in any way they can. And,as their ambassador says, with Cintar under threat they are in danger wherever they are. As long as we respect their traditions, they will keep to their side of the bargain and help us when asked. I have briefed Grand Master Tudor on the bare necessities of what is required.’

At this, the other frail magician nodded with consideration.

‘But, Grand Master,’ Goodfellow began. ‘They will slow us down immensely. I thought we were on a mission of utmost speed and importance?’

‘We’ve been through all that already with Master Celios,’ Grand Master Tudor stepped in to explain. He looked a little under the weather and was perhaps not too keen on some of the finer details of the mission himself. ‘He is adamant that this is the way things should be and that fate will play its hand accordingly. What can we do, Samuel? We have little choice but to agree.’

‘If worse comes to worst, perhaps we can find a way of losing them along the highway?’

‘Not likely,’ Tudor responded. ‘Celios will kick up a fuss.’

‘One moment,’ Samuel said, feeling another imminent disappointment about to manifest itself. ‘Why are there six horses here? Who else is coming?’

‘That is the part I was about to explain,’ Anthem said. ‘So you can be guided appropriately, Master Celiosand Sir Fersewill also be accompanying you.’ To which Samuel could only groan and Goodfellow started rubbing at his eyes nervously. ‘I know he has his quirks, and he has not been improving with age, but Sir Ferse will be there to take care of him. The two of them have been close since the Emperor’s death and Sir Ferse knows how to settle Master Celios when he gets agitated.’

‘This keeps getting worse and worse.’

‘I’m sure you will barely knowthey arethere,’ Anthem added with a smirk. ‘I wish I were going with you!’ he added sarcastically.

At that moment, Master Celios came hobbling out into view, with Sir Ferse in tow carrying their bags. The party waited in silence for the two of them to arrive.

‘What a brisk morning!’ the old Master Celios announced. ‘And a lovely day for a trip! I feel twenty years younger!’

Samuel could only shake his head as he set about choosing his mount from the group.

‘It is time for me to go andpreparewith Grand Master Gallivan,’ Anthem announced. ‘We will be travelling light and fast. We all have a great distance to travel, so I trust your journey will be successful and I hope to meet you back here upon your return. Once all these distractions are out of the way, perhaps we can start sorting out this infernal Empire once and for all.’

They bade him farewell and the old magician stalked back towards the palace, leaving them to finish their preparations and mount up.

‘Which way are we going?’ Master Celios said, turning his horse in circles beneath him.

‘To the East Gate,’ Sir Ferse replied, leaning over in his saddle and grasping the old master’s reins and setting the animal straight. The pair led the way across the grass towards the great gates of the palace grounds.

The two Erics set their horses to a trot and started out after them.

‘Well? Coming?’ Grand Master Tudor asked, slapping his boots into the sides of his mount and clicking his tongue to start it away. He was quite frail-looking and somewhat resembled a scarecrow strapped atop his horse.

Samuel could only shake his head on sight of the group.

‘Well?’ he said, patting the neck of the brown animal beneath him. ‘What shall we call you then?’ Of course,the animal did not reply. ‘I’ve already had one Jess. How about Brown Eric? But you’re a girl and we already have two Erics, so it makes no sense. Then again,neither does any of this, so it’s quite befitting. Let’s go, Brown Eric.’ And with that,he shook the reins with a sharp snap and set Brown Eric off after the others, shaking his head with concern at the whole affair.

The party began out of Cintar under a drab sky, leaving behind the noisy streets and bustling markets of the greatest city in the known world. The hundred horses of Captain Orrell’s guard went ahead with the said captaininthe lead, with Master Celios and Grand Master Tudor on either side. The enigmatic Sir Ferse, as always, was shadowing Celios, riding immediately behind the disturbed magician.

Samuel and the Erics were left to mingle amongst the wagons at the rear of the column. The male Koians seemed comfortable on horseback, while the ladies rode upon a light-hooded carriage, with their costumed crone peeking out from beneath the retractable cover. The other wagons were far less luxurious and only served to carry their supplies for the journey, as well as items required by the fortress. Samuel had been alarmed to learn that one whole wagon was utilised only for clothes and paraphernalia belonging to the Koian god-woman. It seemed it was impossible for her to exist without her many changes of appearance. There was some extravagant and complicatedcostumeroutine that she followed, and a daily set of rituals that often had them halting while she stepped down and scratched at the dirt, or which had her throwing a handful of feathers into the air while she screeched aloud. All this was supposed to allow the universe to continue existing, but it mostly served to annoy Samuel. He could scarcely believe Captain Orrell was entertaining such nonsense, but the man waited patiently as he had been instructed to do.

Eric kept his distance and rode beside the Koian men, chatting to them, and that suited Samuel fine for the moment. Despite Anthem’s suggestion to let ‘bygones be bygones’, he was not ready to forgive his friend quite yet.

‘They are nothing but trouble,’ Samuel said, eyeing the foreigners bleakly.

Goodfellow looked back at the bouncing vehicle with concern. ‘I agree. It seems a strange arrangement.’

‘Master Celios seems confident. We can only hope his visions are wellfounded and don’t waste all our time.’

‘Master Celios is beginning to worry me,’ Goodfellow admitted. ‘His behaviour is becoming more and more erratic. I keep thinking back to Master Sebastian, the magician who went mad and lost his magic.’

‘Master Celios’ magic is not waning yet and,besides, Sebastian had been working with black magic for some time. The summoning of the Ti’luk creature merely pushed him over the edge.’

Goodfellow took another glance up towards the balding seer. ‘But can we trust a man on the edge of madness?’

Samuel was not sure himself, but answered more to reassure his friend. ‘Madness is the spark of greatness, so they say. I suppose we shall see if that is the case with Master Celios or not. For the moment, we are in his hands. Grand Master Anthem trusts his visions, so that is enough for me.’

The road was curving and Samuel could see Captain Orrell far ahead leading their column, with the two black-cloaked magicians beside him. Sir Ferse was riding upright in his saddle, with a stiff posture that seemed almost regal. His aura spoke of nothing unusual-he was just a man-but something about him was eerily familiarto Samuel.

They followed the busy highway through the fields and pastures that surrounded Cintar, away from the impregnable city walls and towards the coastal hills. Samuel could not help but pause a moment once they reached the crest of the hill and take one last look at the city. He remembered well coming down this same road many years ago when Tulan Goodwin had first brought him to try his luck as a magician. He wondered if he would ever see his friend again, for Tulan had been banished to his native Garteny for his role in the assassination of the Emperor. The world was certainly much more complicated than Samuel had first imagined.

Taking one last glance at the vista, Samuel took a great breath. The Bardlebrook river, stretching down from the hills; the satellite town of Northbank, sitting just on the river’s edge; the great walled city of Cintar itself, covering the land like a testament to the industriousness of man; the enormous,curving sea beyond them all, which made him feel tiny every time he gazed at it-these things seemed part of him now and he could not help feeling that this time, in leaving them, he was leaving some part of himself behind.

‘No need to be nostalgic,’ Goodfellow said, still waiting just nearby. ‘We’ll be home soon enough. I doubt little will change while we’re away.’

Samuel pulled the reins sideways and his mount brought him around to face his friend. ‘The city may not change, but we might.’

The sandy-haired magician laughed good-heartedly. ‘Now you’re just being sentimental. What kind of magician are you? Come on. The others are getting away from us. We’ve a long way to go.’

Samuel spent most of his timeduring the journeychatting with Goodfellow and the good-natured Captain Orrell, along with his reliable second-in-command, Lieutenant Valiant. He had been pleasantly surprised to find that the pair was leading their adventure, and that Orrell was now heldinsuch high regard within the Royal Guard. Days were spentmovingat a quick pace and the light wagons did a good job of keeping up although,by nightfall, they had generally fallen a good way behind and only caught up while everyone else was already into their dinners.

In the heart of Turia, there were plenty of major towns and citieswhere they couldlodge, such as Grendin and Callaisia, and the vast,lake-hugging settlement of Seven Oaks. Captain Orrell and his menusuallyspent the nightsin the local barracks,and they were happy enough with that, while the magicians and their Koian guests found their way to the local Order innsand slept there in relative luxury.

Old Tudor sent Samuel to check on the Koians’ needs each night, and he did so with a minimum of interest. They would only request water or towels or fresh bedding and it seemed pointless to have Samuel running about like a common servant. They tried to goad him into conversing with them, but stopped their attempts after he declined quite tersely. Soon after, Tudor gave up sending him.

At first light, they would all meet up again on the outskirts of the town and head off again. Orrell’s men took care of their horses and they were given different mounts each day, so Samuel had no time to bond with Brown Eric and did not bother to name any of the horses after that. There seemed little point.

They managed to cover a decent amount of ground each day, but it was eternally frustrating getting Master Celios and Sir Ferse tobeready on time. More than once the two of them could be heard arguing at the top of their voices. Even Grand Master Tudor had to give Celios stern words after he had caused them to makeCaptain Orrell late for the third day in a row, but the words seemed ineffectual on the distracted old Master. Several times,they questioned Celios if they should not be moving along faster, but he would only say that they were travelling according to plan and there was nothing to worry about. Still, Samuel could not help but feel they would do much better to leave the Koians and the supplies behind and ride for Ghant with all haste. Every day they dragged their feet was another day the Empress was slipping further away from them.

Eric spent the days riding alongside the Koians and it only irked Samuel even further that his friend seemed to be getting along with them so well, chatting and laughing all the way. It seemedthatthe three younger Koian men-at least a decade or two older than Samuel-came from the same small region of Koia and they spoke together in their own incomprehensible tongue. Only the one called Horse spoke Old Tongue and he acted as translator between Canyon and the other two. It had surprised Samuel when he learned that the Koians were culturally diverse, but then he supposed every continent would be similar in some respects. Even Turia still had pockets of differentiation, despite the Empire’s best efforts to make the people homogeneous in every way.

‘Don’t worry, he won’t give away any of our secrets,’ Grand Master Tudor said, noticing Samuel’s concerned looks. ‘I’ve already spoken to him about what he says and what he does. He is a grown man and he knows better than to discuss Order secrets with common folk.’

‘Can we trust them, Grand Master? They seem so strange to me. We know nothing about them or where they really come from. Everything they told us could be a lie.’

‘Samuel, I would have thought that all your experiences as anOutlander in Turia would have taught you better. Did you learn nothing from all your years in Cintar? It’s our nature to be wary of all things that challenge the expected but,as magicians, that is our main function. No, I don’t think there is anything amiss about them-at least, not yet. Yes, they do look strange and they have strange ways, but we cannot let that cloud our judgement. I’m only disappointed that you have decided to keep yourself aloof from them. They are people, the same as weare, and Master Celios has never been wrong. I will not start doubting him now. We must trust him, and trust the faith the Council have invested in him. These people, thrown upon our shores, will have some role to play in the coming days and we can only thank fate that we have the foresight of Master Celios to prepare us for such.’

‘Please forgive me, Grand Master Tudor, but what if Master Celios and the rest are all mistaken?’

The old magician gave Samuel a knowing wink. ‘Everything is possible, young Samuel. Assume the best, but be prepared for the worst. I think that is perhaps the best advice for this situation.’

The first couple of weeks passed quickly and Samuel had done a fine job of avoiding the Koians and their croaking,many-costumed crone. He was quite surprised when one of the Koian men, the ambassador called Canyon sidled up to him as they were waiting atop their mounts-Captain Orrell had drawn the column to a halt as he discussed their best route with Lieutenant Valiant-and startled Samuel from his thoughts.

‘We haven’t had much opportunity to speak, Magician,’ he said, granting Samuel his most reassuring expression. ‘You seem to be avoiding us. I hope we haven’t offended you.’

The man’s eyes were barely slits in his face; his nose was barely a nub. His Old Tongue waspunctuatedwith unusual pronunciation that had Samuel struggling to understand the context of his words.

‘You haven’t offended me. I am only quiet with my thoughts. We magicians are solitary folk.’

The Koian seemed to accept that. ‘So it is. If you feel the need to speak your thoughts, I am happy to talk with you. This road is long and, despite the beauties of your land, we also find ourselves getting bored as one valley leads to the next. Some conversation would ease this tiresome journey.’

‘Perhaps.’

The Koian looked back to his party, where Eric was laughing merrily with the three other men. ‘Your friend is not as solitary as you. I perceive that you are not on such good terms. It is unfortunate.’

‘I thought your people didn’t tolerate magicians?’

‘This is your country. We are guests here. We will not judge your choices.’

‘I do remember you mentioning “putting to death”.’

‘We are not a savage people, Samuel. Magic is not tolerated in my homelandfor good reason. Our history was marred by magicians seeking to further their own interestsat the expense of society. TheRoyalFamily had them outlawed. I understand something similar almost happened here only recently,’ he added with a knowing smile. Eric had obviously told him of the time when the Emperor had tried to put all the renegade magicians of the city to death.

‘Almost. Luckily, it did not,’ Samuel told him with a steady tone.

Ambassador Canyon seemed to sense he would have no more productive conversation from Samuel and dropped back to rejoin his party. ‘Very well. I hope to speak with you soon,’ were his parting words.

The party had travelled long and were far from Cintar and central Turia. They had left the highways and were now crossing overland to make the best time. The trip had been uneventful and boring, and it came as good news when they heard they did not have far to go. Samuel had said few words to Eric and spoken only with the Koians when necessary. He spent most of his timewith Goodfellow throughout the course of each day and Tudor and Captain Orrell besides, but he had no real wish to speak to Master Celios or his aloof companion.

Canyon attempted to converse with Samuel on several instances and, on noticingthe rebuffs Samuel gave him, old Tudor suggested that Samuel should return the attempt to befriend them. Samuel, however, was stubbornly upset by Eric and, by association, the Koians with whom Eric was getting on so well. Sighing once more, Samuel checked that the Argum Stone was sitting tightly in his pocket and began guessing how long it would take them to reach the next rest stop.

After a few more nights,they stopped in a logged clearing. The Koian women were settled into one large tent together and they had requested water and clean cloths so they could wash themselves. They could be heard talking softly inside, whispering and giggling in their womanish ways. There was no sound of the hag’s ear-piercing voice and,for that, Samuel was thankful.

Orrell’s men were setting up tents and Samuel took the opportunity to speak to Sir Ferse, who was standing idlybywhile the others busiedthemselvesaround him.Heseemedintrigued by the nature of their individual tasks. Samuelhad avoided the man the entire time, but now, with little else to do, he decided to accept old Tudor’s request to be more civilto his companions. He was not in the mood to force a conversation with the Koians, so he thought the eccentric attendant might be a good start.

‘Sir Ferse,’ greeted Samuel.

A well-practised smile flashed onto the moustached man’s face. It was the look of an experienced salesman or merchant, executed with precision and designed to put the recipient at ease, and Samuel already found the man to be frustratingly charismatic.

‘Ah!’ Sir Ferse returned. ‘I haven’t had the pleasure of speaking with you yet, young Lord Samuel. This journey is so demanding on us physically that it leaves little energy for the common pleasures of conversation. Master Celios demands so much of my time. I was hoping to corner you eventually for a friendly chat-but it seems you have beaten me to it.’

Samuel was taken aback, for he had not heard more than a few words from the man before. Despite the friendly tone, there was just something disconcerting about the nuances of this man. On top of that, Samuel had the feeling he had met or seen him before and hearing Sir Ferse speak only reinforced the feeling. He was very good at recalling names and places, but in this instance he drew a blank. ‘You know who I am?’

Sir Ferse raised a quizzical eyebrow. ‘How does one not know the Saviour of Cintar? Any magician who can achieve as much as you have must,indeed,be great, Samuel. And I’m sure you are destined for even greater things. Wouldn’t you agree?’

The statement had Samuel feeling awkward. ‘I’m not sure. What do you mean?’

‘Oh, don’t be coy. The city itself talks about you. Your two young friends are quite gifted, yes, but they don’t hold a candle to you-oh, no. Why else would the Paatin Queen want to meet you? To see the best, of course!’

Samuel shifted in his boots, trying to ascertain what the man was on about. Such unabated flattery was not something to which he was accustomed and the words just kept rattling from the man’s tongue before Samuel could garner a decent response. ‘Well, I’m not sure about that.’

‘What’s that? They haven’t told you? Well, I can understand why. It would do no good to risk spoilingit foryou, or letting you get a big head about it. YourOutlander modesty is part of your charm.’ Samuel did not know where to look, for he was altogether embarrassed by Sir Ferse’svolleyof compliments. He was already regretting his decision to speak to the manwhenSir Ferse stepped closer and lowered his voice so as not to be overheard. ‘You know, I heard something very interesting about you, Samuel-something I think only you can confirm for me. They say that when the Emperor died, someone was holding the Elder Staff. Some say itisquite uncanny how those dreadful Gartens managed to sidestep the Emperor’s magical shielding just at that critical moment, when he had been unassailable time and time again before that. Some people say it was you, holding theStaff, Samuel. Imagine that. Why would they say such a thing?’

Samuel stepped back and felt the colour drain from his face. ‘I…I…well-’ he muttered, not knowing what to say.

‘I’m sure it’s only speculation, my dear young friend,’ said Sir Ferse,with a dismissive wave of his hand, ‘and we shouldn’t jump to conclusions based on speculation now, should we? Even so, it would be interesting to know the truth of the matter, wouldn’t it-to be a fly on the wall of the palace that day?’

Just then, Master Celios turned from his conversation with Grand Master Tudor and came scampering over with alarm at the sight of Samuel and Sir Ferse conversing.

‘For goodness’sake, Sir Ferse. How many times must I tell you not to bother anyone? Every word you speak is pain to my ears! Come away from poor Samuel,’ and with that Celios dragged the protesting Sir Ferse away by the arm.

‘Samuel,’ Goodfellow said, arriving at his side just as the other two peeled away. ‘You look like you’ve seen a ghost. What’s wrong?’

Samuel, in turn, took Goodfellow’s arm and led his friend away from the small clearing to the base of the trunk of the nearest great pine that grewa fewyards away. ‘Sir Ferse,’ he began. ‘He knows about me.’

Goodfellow was confused. ‘He knows what? What do you mean?’

Samuel looked about for any eavesdroppers, but the Koians were already in their tents and the soldiers were engaged in their duties. ‘He knows I killed the Emperor.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous, Samuel. You didn’t kill the Emperor. The Gartens did.’ Then he lowered his voice to a whisper. ‘Perhaps he knows that we had planned to kill him? Some of the old Masters could have talked. Grand Master Anthem was afraid of that.’

‘No. Ididkill the Emperor.’ But Goodfellow only looked perplexed. ‘I haven’t told a single soul about it, so everyone thinks the Gartens were responsible. You weren’t there, but I actually got my hands on the Staff of Elders. I used it to remove the Emperor’s defences. If it weren’t for me, the Emperor would still be alive now. No one knows except Grand Master Anthem and even he has never mentioned the fact since that day.’

Goodfellow took a moment to digest what he had heard. ‘But, I thought the Gartens killed the Emperor?’

‘I know, you dimwit, but only because of me!’

Samuel immediately regretted raising his voice to his friend and took a moment to calm himself.

‘Very well. I believe you. So how does Sir Ferse know about it?’ Goodfellow asked.

‘I don’t know. Perhaps he didn’t, butfromthe way I reacted, I’m sure he knows now, for certain.’

‘Do you think he will tell anyone? I mean, he is a Turian, isn’t he? So he wouldn’t be very pleased about you killing the Emperor.’

Samuel shook his head. ‘I don’t know. I guess we have to wait and see.’

Ghostly scenes haunted Samuel’s dreams that night as he tossed and turned under his blankets. He saw two cloaked figures, barely more than shadows dancing on the landscape, as they hopped madly amongst an ocean of foes. Dark faces leered and screamed, and they followed the elusive pair with a thousand swords. But no matter how many of the wild desert-men came after the pair, the two seemed untouchable and flew about like rags upon the wind, cutting their way into the north.

The vision faded and he saw a figure waiting for him, sitting on a padded chair. It was a woman and she looked up, as if noticing Samuel watching her through the dream. Her face was elusive and seemed to change with the moment. At first,it was an unknown woman, beautiful in every way. He knew he should know her, but for some reason he could not recall her name. Worry was on her face. She looked closely at Samuel and,as her skin darkened,she became sultrier and more seductive, with a knowing smile upon her lips. Her features slidawayand she was now Empress Lillith, smiling contentedly at theboyin her arms. Her hair fell into golden tresses and she laughed brightly as her features shifted again. Although the woman at first seemed a stranger, he knew it was Jessicah.

He had not seen his cousin since they were both barely into their teens, but he knew from her laugh alone that this woman was Jessicah, grown into her prime. Just thinking about her reassured him and took him away from other dark thoughts, for she was his bastion of self-the only thing he had not lost in his sorry life. He had not seen her for many years, but in his dream he realised he had perhaps avoided her purposefully; keeping her at arm’s length so she would not be lost like the rest of his loved ones. Just knowing she existed was enough.

She held her arms wide and beckoned for him to come to her, and she hadtransformed intoLeila.

‘At last,’ she said to him, ‘you’ve come. It’s been so long since we’ve been together. Your dreams have been too busy for me.’

She gave him that warm and loving look that only she could give him, but he could not reply. Something else was tugging at the edge of his dream, keeping him from forming his thoughts. He tried to hang ontoLeila’spresence, but she faded away along with the chair and the room and only a voice called through the darkness.

‘Father!’ it called. It was a boy’s voice. Samuel had not heard it in many months, but the calling was never far away; always ready to torment him. ‘I’m sorry you died. I would put things back the way they were if I could, but everything has changed. Why do things have to change so much?’ He could never tell if it was his own voice pleading in his head or that of another, but he only wished it would leave him alone. His own father and mother had been killed when he was only a boy, and he missed them more than he could bear, even after all these years. He wished that he could put those feelings behind him, and perhaps the voice would leave his dreams.

He awoke and found himself tangled in his blankets,hot and sweating. It was still the dead of night and the tent was dark. A night bird called from the woods and he heard someone coughing from another tent across the campsite. Kicking off his stifling blankets, he rolled over and hoped his sleep would take him quickly and deeply.

It must have been the middle of the night when a ruckus outside the tent awoke him. He dragged on his boots and stumbled out into the night air to see what was causing all the commotion.

The clearing was still dotted with numerous campfires, but it appeared that Orrell’s entire company was rushing about, in and out of the woods and in every direction. Goodfellow came out of the tent after Samuel, sleepily adjusting his spectacles into place.

‘Samuel,’ Celios called. ‘Come over!’ and with that the two magicians joined the others beside their fire.

‘The Koians have lost their god,’ Grand Master Tudor explained. ‘And they’re in quite a fluster.’

‘Lost what?’ Samuel asked. ‘That ridiculous woman?’

‘Yes,’ Tudor continued. ‘It seems her attendants took her into the trees for her to relieve herself and the next thing they knew, she’d disappeared.’

‘So their gods need the privy, too?’ Eric put in. ‘That’s good to know.’

But Celios threw him a blazing glance, and alltraceof amusement fled from Eric’s face. Samuel would normally have found the remark amusing, but he was too tired and was not willing to give Eric the satisfaction of a supportive response.

‘Orrell’s men are all out looking for her,’ Tudor continued, looking somewhat dishevelled in the firelight, ‘but we should do our best to help. As you know, she shares Samuel’s lack ofpresence, so we have no way to find her magically. We can only help them the old-fashioned way, by walking around and shouting a bit. Perhaps make them a few lights. She can’t have gone far, so let’s just help the Koians with this so we can go back to bed.’

‘Is this really necessary?’ Samuel groaned.

‘Yes.’

‘Where is Sir Ferse?’ Samuel then asked, noticing the obvious absence of the man from their group.

‘He’s still sleeping,’ Master Celios replied very matter-of-factly. ‘I tried waking him, but he sleeps like a log. Leave him be. I’m sure we can deal with this.’

‘Go on,’ Tudor finished and gestured out into the darkness. ‘It’s safe. Not even the wolves are awake at this hour.’

Samuel shrugged and did as he was told. They all stepped away into the trees in different directions and began calling out. Without having a name to call, no one knew what to shout, so they cried out ‘hello’and ‘over here’and the likes. It was worse for Orrell’s men, for they could not even speak the Old Tongue. Anything they would shout would be incomprehensible to her; but Samuel figured it would not make much difference. She would only have to hear their noises to find them and that was all that was required. How she could have become so lost,when she wasso close to such a large number of men, was beyond him.

He could feel the two Erics summoning some mage-lights, so he decided it could not hurt to attempt the same. As he walked amongst the dark trees, atop the thick carpet of fallen pine needles and scattered cones that littered the ground, he slipped the Argum Stone onto his finger and readied himself. He thought he had tapped only the tiniest trickle of power but,as he released the spell, a host of glowing spheres shattered the darkness with their blazing light. The woods bloomed into an eerie,flickering daylight, and dozens of Orrell’s guards were frozen on the spot, looking at the lights with alarm.

‘Sorry!’ he called out to them, realising his spell must have half-blinded the men and he pulled the ring from his finger to extinguish the spell. He was only channelling a small amount of magic from the ring, so he had thought nothing of taking it off, but the sudden release of energy that snapped through him stung him and made him start. He reminded himself not to be so flippant in future, for his connection with the ring had to be reduced as much as possible before it could be removed. The separation from any amount of power could be traumatising.

He would have to do without his spells but,with such a bright moon,he would not have too much trouble finding his way. Wandering further into the deepening woods,he began calling out for the woman, calling‘god lady’, ‘old woman’and‘vile old wench’in as pleasant a tone as he could muster. He did not bother using the Old Tongue, as he did not really care if he found her or not. His thoughts were firmly set on his tent and blanket, and he assumed he would just have to wander around for a bit until one of Orrell’s men stumbled across her.

After some time, as the shouts of Orrell’s men became fainter, he was surprised as some nearby shrubs rustled and someone came stepping out towards him. It was Horse, the Koian.

‘Magician,’ he said. ‘I have found you. We can’t find our god anywhere. I thought I had tracked her in this direction, but now I am not sure. I will go that way towards that rise, but can you look over there, towards the stones?’ The man’s grasp on the Old Tongue seemed intermediate at best and he struggled to speak some of the words in their entirety.

Samuel agreed half-heartedly and started off as directed, not at all amused with the task. Itwasinconvenient that they could lose their deity so easily. What kind of god was she supposed to be anyway?

The woods were thin in that direction and Samuel had no trouble finding his way. He could still hear distant shouts and could still sense the other magicians nearby, so he was in no fear of losing himself.

After stumbling around a bit, with twigs and sticks catching at his heels, he finally found the outcropping of large boulders that the Koian had mentioned, but could see nothing of the crone. He wandered back and forth a few times, peering into various shadows, and was about to give up when someone began calling out to him in a hoarse whisper.

‘Magician!’ came the voice. ‘Magician! Over here.’

He looked around, and finally saw movement in the inky blackness between the great stones. It was disconcerting for him, as all living things had a visible aura to his eyes-to his unique magician’ssight-but this Koian god-woman was invisible to his special sense. It made him realise he was not used to seeing things with his eyes alone,for the area she occupied seemed strangely vacant and unsettling without such energies to accompany it.

He went closer and found that the hag was, indeed,huddled there in the shadows-blackness in blackness. Peering into the gulf of emptiness, Samuel now felt some trepidation about the situation. He half-suspected, although childishly, that he had been lured out here and now the old hag would devour him in one hideous gulp.

‘I am lost, Magician,’ she hissed from the darkness, ‘and I am injured. Can you help me back to the others?’ She had backed into the rocky recess. Samuel could see the old woman was now wearing none of her outlandish garments, and she seemed half the size for it. Judging from her silhouette, she was dressed in a simple,loose-fitting smock, tied at the waist with a cord or sash. Her frame, although difficult to assess, was much smaller than expected. If not for that cackling voice, he may not have believed this creature to be the same one at all. ‘Do not look at me!’ she ordered abruptly as he observed her outline in the dark. ‘It is a sin!’

Samuel flinched and turned away, waiting in the wan moonlight. He had no intention of ogling her ghastly figure. The mere thought made him shudder. ‘How can I help you if I can’t look at you?’ he finally asked. ‘Come out of those rocks if you want my help.’

‘Yes, you are correct,’ croaked the reply. ‘Come, Magician. Help me.’

With that, the Koian god-woman shuffled a step forward into the moonlight and Samuel’s eyes opened wide. Indeed, she was not wearing her costumed clothes and she also was not wearing any of her outrageous wigs or demonic make-up. Greatest of all, it was not an old hag that came stepping into view, but a young woman of abouthisage. He thought perhaps there had been some mistake; perhaps it was the girl called River whom he had found, but then he realised there was no doubting that this was in fact the Koian god. Also, no one else in their party could have such a complete lack ofpresence. He could see, even in this limited light,that she had the same bizarre features as her country-folk, with olive skin and angled eyes, and her hair was tied into a tight ponytail which glistened in the moonlight, as if oiled. But she was undoubtedly no old woman at all and Samuel found himself utterly speechless.

‘Magician,’ she croaked. Such a withered voice seemed so alien coming from such a youthful face. ‘Do not stare at me so. No man has ever looked upon mein such a state of undress. The laws of heaven should not be broken. The world will suffer. Turn away!’

Samuel forced himself to turn away once more. ‘Follow me, then,’ he said and started off towards the camp. She may have been a young woman, but he was not going to let anyone, even such a strangely captivating god, be so rude to him.

He had only taken a few steps when he heard her stop behind him with a shrill yelp.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said softly, and the crackling in her voice had also fallen away. ‘I cannot walk unaided.’ It was another surprise to hear her real voice, and Samuel remembered the moment he had first met her in her great ship, when she had first asked him whathewas.She had spoken with her hag’s voice ever since that time and he only now realised it was merely another layer of her costume as a Koian god.

‘Then wait here a moment while I fetch help,’ he stated-and he had begun to move off again when she stopped him with a desperate plea.

‘Wait! Don’t leave me alone. I don’t want to be left in the dark again. I don’t like the dark.’

Samuel turned back to face her with his arms stiffly folded in front of him. ‘Then what do you want me to do?’ he asked her, looking squarely at her. She was blushing under his gaze-even in this moonlight he could see that-and Samuel could not help but think how strange her features made her look. It seemed such a shame that she spent all her time in the guise of a monster; although, perhaps that explained her complete lack of manners. ‘You won’t let me help you and you won’t let me go. What can I do?’

‘Can you not use your magician’s spells to heal me?’

‘I cannot sense your energies to heal you. I suppose I could apply a general spell of healing all over you-’ then he realised he would probably blow her leg off if he tried using the power of his ring, ‘-but that won’t work either. Let me just shout for help. I’m sure your friends will come.’

She looked utterly dismayed. ‘No! You have already seen me and I cannot have more men coming to gawk at me like this. Please, help me back to the camp. We can avoid the soldiers and you can fetch my ladies when we are near to them.’

Samuel sighed. The premise seemed ridiculous and,despite the girl’s unusual attractiveness, the last thing he wanted at this time of night was a convoluted path back to the camp. He knew he should just leave her here while he went to fetch her maids, but finally her helpless look persuaded him.

‘Very well,’ he agreed and stepped to her side.

She flinched as he reached for her, but then she gingerly offered him her slender arm. She was tense and shivering, but it did not seem so cold to Samuel. He walked beside her and guided her through the woods, down towards the camp. Occasionally, they would hear someone coming tramping through the undergrowth, and it seemed only luck that no one stumbled directly upon them.

As they walked, Samuel could not help but steal the occasional sideways glance across at her. He could not believe that the hag he had discovered in the bowels of the ship, the rude and extravagant god of the Koian nation, was actually this fragile young woman. She caught him looking at her more than once and each time she looked quickly away,evadinghis gaze. He realised it was making her uncomfortable and steeled himself to keep his eyes ahead.

Still, he was uncomfortably aware of her arm in his hand. He could feel her warmth in his fingers, the softness of her flesh in his palm. Thoughts of Leila entered his mind and,for once, he welcomed them. Focussing on his lost love helped to remind him that this was not a real woman beside him. It was the Koian god, and she was a strange and unknown creature from a foreign land.

As they reached beside the camp and manoeuvred nearer the ladies’ tent, she called out in a whisper to her attendants. ‘Wind. Leaf. I am here.’ There was immediately a commotion from inside the tent of someone rushing to be out. ‘Please,’ she said to Samuel, pushing his arm away and reaching to the tree trunk for support. ‘Go, quickly. Tell no one you found or saw me. Whatever you do, don’t let them know I was seen. The shame would be terrible-for all of us.’ Samuel nodded. ‘Go now!’ she hissed and Samuel did as he was told, darting into the bushes just as two feminine figures came to the girl’s side.

‘Quickly! Inside!’ was all one of them said and Samuel, looking through the leaves, spied them throw a blanket over her and pull her roughly away.

Strange, he thought, that she did not limp any more.

They rose late in the morning after the excitement of the previous night and everyone was grumbling over their breakfasts, moaning and begrudging thewaywardbehaviour of the Koian god.

‘It’s not bad enough she went and got herself lost!’ declared Lieutenant Valiant, ‘but then she went and found herself while we were all stomping about in the woods all night looking for her! She had probably been inher tentfor hours before someone finally had the decency to tell us.’

Captain Orrell was finishing his breakfast, wiping up the juices on his plate with a fist of crusty bread. ‘Calm now, Valiant. They are our guests. And they did inform us she had returned, eventually.’

‘Only because our searching had begun to bother them from their sleep-yes!’

The normally subdued Valiant was now being rather expressive. Luckily, the other soldiers around their breakfasts were all roaring with laughter at his comments. Apparently, the sight of Valiant so worked up was enough to make up for their night of discomfort.

Sir Ferse had joined them for breakfast, looking refreshed, which seemed logical given that he had been the only one to sleep all night. He sat cross-legged on one of the thatched mats they had thrown down, appearing awkward as such, as if he had never sat on the floor in his life. Even eating bread with his hands seemed a curiosity that he was only now coming to terms with.

‘Where to today?’ Grand Master Tudor asked, tapping his walking stick against the cooking pots. ‘I believe we are within reach of Ghant.’

‘If we move quickly we should be there very soon,’ Orrell replied. ‘But we are headed into the mountains now. The going will be slow. We will need to take care with the wagons and with our guests.’

As soon as they could, theypacked up campandwent on theiraway. Samuel could not help but look towards the Koians’ wagon all that day and the next, intrigued by what he had learned.

They soon reached the edge of some hills and the landscape became rockier and steeper around them, so that the wagons rocked and pitched upon the trail. The two older ladies sat at the front steeringthe horses, while the younger one sat beside their god on the rear seat. They had drawn back the hooped cover and River at least appeared to relish being out in the open. Each lady wore simple but flattering garments that glittered in the sun-close-fitting dresses buttoned at the side, with high collarsand long sleeves. He would have thought that such delicate clothing would be totally unsuitable for such travel, but somehow the women managed to keep themselves impeccably clean. The god-woman was again in costume, adorned like an enormous pheasant with long plumes that dangled out behind her. Her face was a spiral of red and white;her facial features obscured so as to almost be non-existent. The feathers stuck out from all over her hair, but Samuel could now imagine he saw specks of her real hair glistening beneath.

Every day she wore new or varied forms of costume and Samuel could find no order or pattern to it. From his few brief conversations with the Koians,they seemed like sophisticated people, yet it puzzled him that they could adhere to such a primitive and pointless practice.

Several times, the surly Koian men, ambling along on their horses, noted Samuel gazing towards their god and frowned back towards him.

‘She’s not what she seems,’ he said to Goodfellow.

Goodfellow seemed startled out of a daydream. ‘Oh? What do you mean?’

‘I found the Koian crone when she was lost, but she’s not an old hag at all.’

‘Oh?’ the sandy-haired magician asked. He was obviously still trying to blink away his previous thoughts.

‘I found her up amongst the rocks. She’s a girl-at least, she’s not a girl, she’s a woman, about the same age as us.’

Goodfellow laughed as if the thought was preposterous. ‘You can’t mean it? Really? That thing is a woman?’

‘Indeed.’

‘Sorry, Samuel. I’m gullible, but notthatgullible. I’m not falling for it.’

‘I’m not trying to fool you,’ Samuel declared. ‘It’s true.’

‘Well, Istilldon’t believe you and, even ifshe is, it’s the Koians’ business. We are magicians, after all. Ladies should not interest us. We need to focus on returning the Empress and the heir.’

‘Eric, let me tell you something. I was distrustful of their god before but,now I have seen hertrue nature, I am even more so. There is something disturbing about her. I have felt unsettled since that day we found her on the ship and now I know why. I felt some awful thing aboard that boat, something like I have never felt before-a wordless,dreadful fear. It is her. Strangely, I felt it long before that day, rising in my blood like poisonous bile. When I opened the door and found her, I thought my heart would stop. I don’t know what she is, but I have never been so afraid of any living thing. Seeing her true form only doubles my concern.’

‘I admit she is strange, Samuel, in appearance and nature, but I do not feel the same trepidation. Perhaps it’s some inkling into our future you can feel?’

‘I haven’t looked to the future since the first time with Master Celios, when I envisioned the destruction of Cintar. I am wary of trying to discern such things,and perhaps rightfully so. Look at what it has done to our seer.’

‘It could be a useful ability, Samuel, if only you use it sparingly. Master Celios has been under constant pressure to foresee the Empire’s way out of this predicament. Perhaps it is that which has worn him into his current state, rather than the ability itself.’

‘I would not readily look into the future,’ Samuel revealed. ‘Who can even say if we can change what we can foresee?’

‘We could prepare ourselves,’ Goodfellow said, but Samuel shook his head.

‘I want no more worry or woe than I already possess, Eric. Even without welcoming these abilities, they come to me readily. Sometimes, when I awake from my deepest dreams, the memories of people and voices are just fading away. I cannot recall their words, but I know they are not part of my dream.’

‘Perhaps you could learn to recall these things?’ Goodfellow suggested.

‘That is the last thing I would want. Better to be deaf and dumb than stricken with such madness.’

Goodfellow seemed to sense that Samuel had fallen into a dark mood and left the conversation at that, leaving him to ride quietly in his saddle.

Up ahead, Eric was riding beside Ambassador Canyon and in open conversation with the man. Eric seemed to have befriended everyone in the column, including a fair portion of Orrell’s fighting men, while Samuel had not spoken to any. Somehow, Eric managed to do everything incredibly well and it was infuriating. Samuel still judged himself to be the greater magician, but he was reliant on the Argum Stone and a cripple of a magician without it. Eric was naturally gifted and would one day rival the magicians of history without need for any such magical device. His magic was pure and strong and efficient,and Samuel longed to learn his friend’s secrets, as he knew that Eric had been hiding much of his power from everyone. Most of all, it annoyed Samuel that Eric had been right, for he knew that if he had been in the same position at Rampeny and had the opportunity to journey to safety, he would had done it in a flash. Still, he refused to be the first one to give in.

The party was delayed at a shallow stream crossing and they were forced to wait for some time while some of the heavier load from the wagons was carted across by hand. Orrell’s men worked quickly and efficiently, with barely a grumble. The magicians could have spelled the items across in a jiffy, but older magicians scorned the use of magic for such trivial work and seemed happy to let the men see to the chore. Celios, their timekeeper and adviser on such matters, also seemed happy to sit and wait for the job to be done.

Samuel and Goodfellow waited beside the Koian wagon. Quitesurprisingly, the men had left their ladies while they went to inspect the stream crossing. Despite Orrell’s best efforts, the Koians would not be convinced it was a safe place to cross until they had performed acloseexamination for themselves.

‘How much further to this citadel, Magician Goodfellow?’ Lady Wind barked at Goodfellow, who was nearest to the wagon.

‘I don’t know, Lady Wind,’ he replied politely, for eventheyhad spoken briefly on the journey and had learnt something of each other’s titles.

To that, the woman only shifted impatiently in her seat.

‘Are you enjoying the journey?’ Samuel asked of the god-woman, but young Lady River beside mistook the questionas being directed ather.

‘Yes, I am,’ she replied, appearing quite startled that Samuel had spoken to her.

‘Actually, I meant the question for her,’ Samuel corrected, gesturing towards the costumed woman.

The plumed god-woman turned her head towards Samuel with a rustling of feathers, but said nothing, while Lady River looked away nervously.

‘You should not address our god, Magician,’ Lady Wind instructed, swivelling around in her seat. ‘She is above us mortals. We reply to her when beckoned or as the rituals demand. That is all.’

‘Is she not a god in a woman’s body?’ Samuel asked, probing. ‘I have seen you take her meals and water, so she has mortal needs like the rest of us.’

‘Of course,’ the stern Lady Leaf replied from beside hercompanionon the front seat. ‘We have stated as such already.’

‘Then why does she dress like this? It seems very…primitive,’ he said, for lack of a better word.

‘We do not expect you to understand our ways, Magician,’ Lady Wind responded. ‘We do nothing without reason and we do not question when you behave in a way that even inbreds would consider disgraceful in our land. Even your existence is an affront to us and our ways. We are grateful for your hospitality, nevertheless,’ she added with a formal nod of her head.

‘Still,’ Samuel continued, ‘she did nearly lose herself. Despite being a god, I can see she depends on you for everything. If we are to continue on our mission, that will be a liability. We could be entering hostile territory. Dressed like this, she willdrawattention from the enemy. I’m sure you must have considered it?’

The two matronly ladies seemed to contemplate this.

‘I see your point, Magician,’ Lady Wind finally said. ‘We will discuss it at length.’

With that,they each facedforwards againand the god-woman swivelled her head back to the front, never having shown any hint of expression or emotion all the while. Samuel wondered if the sight of her beneath her regalia had actually been a dream.

They camped on the farside of theriver, for it was already getting late once they had crossed. Orrell’s men took delight in bathing themselves in the natural,waist-deep pools they had found along its stony edge. The river had been blessed with the presence of steaming hot springs that turned the freezing mountain waters warm and it was too inviting an opportunity to miss. Water boiled from one side of the river and fell into pools along with cold water running down the other side, so that the pools ranged in temperature from scalding to freezing, and the men could pick and choose and move from one to another as they preferred.

The Koian ladies stayed inside their tent, but even their men would not miss the chance to wash, and they dipped themselves into the waters modestly and loosened their ponytails to wash their hair. The magicians also took the opportunity to wash, throwing aside their robes and scrubbing solemnly amongst the frivolous men. Samuel was the last to enter, for he disliked the thought of bathing beside Eric while they were still having their differences, but old Tudor kept yelling at him scornfully and,finally,Samuel gave in, disrobing down to his smalls and easing himself into the steaming water beside the others.

‘I’ve had enough of you two and your endless womanish argument,’ Tudor told them both, scolding them like children. His face was ruddy from the heat of the pool. ‘From this point on, I want no more of it. I don’t care what it is all about-it’s finished! No more.’

Samuel looked sidelong at his friend.

‘What do you say, Samuel?’ Eric asked him.

‘I have no objection,’ he replied begrudgingly.

‘That sounds like an objection to me,’ Tudor said gruffly. ‘Go sit in the far pool until you lose your hot head.’

Samuel looked towards where the old man was gesturing, where the water ran clear and untainted from the mountain.

‘That’s freezing. I’m not going there.’

‘Yes, you are,’ the old man stated. ‘Go on. Off you go. You can come back when some sense has returned to you. Go on.’

Samuel tried to resist, but Tudor was adamant and Samuel was left with no choice but to tiptoe across the slippery stones to where not even the staunchestof Orrell’s men were bathing. Even the mountain air had him freezing, with the steam rising from his skin. His feet burned as the icy water ran over his ruddy toes.

‘Get in!’ Tudor demanded, and the others, Orrell’s men included, were all watching on and laughing at his expense.

Painfully, Samuel worked himself into the icy pool, wishing he had some magic to warm himself with. He withdrew his senses as much as he could, but he could not remove the freezing touch of the water from his mind. Tudor and the others laughed merrily from their cosy basin, occasionally looking over at him while he shivered in misery.

Eventually, after his skin had turned blue and even his goosebumps had given up their objections, the old Grand Master called over to him.

‘Are you ready to come back yet? No more nonsense?’

‘Yes!’ Samuel called back through chattering teeth.

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes!’ Samuel called louder.

‘Oh, very well!’ Tudor said. ‘I suppose you can come back. Come on; hurry before you die of cold.’

Samuel wasted no time, leaping from the waters and rushing back to be beside the steaming pool occupied by the magicians, with his arms folded and his hands tucked into his armpits for warmth. It was true that he was now too cold to be annoyed, and his only thought was in getting even with the old man. He stood above them, perched on the lip of the rocky recess, considering how to make the biggest splash he possibly could.

‘Don’t you dare-’ Tudor began, noticing Samuel standing over his shoulder, but it was too late.

Samuel leapt from the rocks and balled himself up, splashing down amongst them. The cold was dispelled from his body immediately, and as he raised his head above the surface and wiped the water from his face, he was greeted by the faces of four saturated magicians. Old Tudor looked the most amusing of them all, for his grey hair and beard were all wet and matted to his face and he looked back at Samuel sourly, like a cat pulled from a washtub. Samuel could only laugh.

‘Normally,’ Tudor said quite soberly, ‘I would not encourage three of our most promising young magicians to act raucously in public, but…get him!’

At that, the two Erics launched themselves upon Samuel and the three of them splashed around the pool, leaving old Tudor and Celios to flee to the far side of the water and out of harm’s way. After much splashing and carrying on, Tudor finally called them to calm. Samuel had to admit he felt better, for it had been a long time since the three of them had cavorted together in any way. They were grown men, but the years of trouble and seriousness had left little time for enjoyment. It reminded him of their early days in the School of Magic.

‘Settle down now,’ Tudor said. ‘You’re not children any longer. I trust that has settled the matter. Now,if you don’t mind, that’s enough with the splashing. I will have to speak to Captain Orrell to ensure no word of this makes it back to Cintar. It will probably cost me a fortune in ale for his men. We have our reputation to keep, after all.’

Grand Master Tudor and Master Celios solemnly discussed matters of their journey while Samuel and the Erics chatted happily, as they had notdonefor quite some time. Sir Fersewasuninterested in washing and sat by himself on a large rock that jutted into the spilling waters, seeming content to sit and ponder quietly.

‘It has been a long and uninteresting trip so far, I must admit,’ Grand Master Tudor announced. ‘Before dinner, I would like to see you three practise your Summoning and Casting stances. We may be called upon to use our skills very shortly, and I would not like to think you three have started getting rusty at such a young age. I may even give you some tips.’

They all agreed enthusiastically and,after they had dried and refreshed their clothes, the five magicians found a place away from the river on a low hillside that overlooked many of the valleysfromwhich they had just ascended. Captain Orrell and Lieutenant Valiant, hearing of their intentions, asked if they could alsobe present, for few outside the Order could say they had been witness to such things, and Grand Master Tudor heartily agreed, for the men had earned the magicians’ trust.

Grand Master Tudor let them begin and the three black-robed friends stepped through the standard sequences of movements and positions that helped magicians to summon and focus their power. He had found a length of wood at some stage along their journey, which he had been using as a staff to aid his walking, and he now leaned upon it as he watched the magicians at work.

Samuel found it frustrating, for the motions felt empty to him,devoid of rewarding sensation since he had lost his power. He had practised little in the time since he had defeated Ash and it showed in his awkward movements.

Master Celios scolded them when they stepped wrongly and harassed them incessantly,and it did feel as if they were apprentices again. Grand Master Tudor, however, only watched on in silence, occasionally smiling or nodding when any of them did especially well.

‘Your movements seem stiff and lifeless, Samuel,’ Tudor finally called as they reached the end of their sequence. ‘Is your mind perhaps on something else?’

But Samuel could only make feeble excuses for himself. Without being able to feel his own energies, the movements felt hollow and pointless. He had little to guide him now except his memories-memoriesfrom a time when each step and motion had thrilled him and filled him with his own vibrant power.

‘I’m disappointed,’ said Master Celios with a shake of his head. ‘The Saviour of Cintar-staggering around like adrunkard. I’m only glad Grand Master Anthem is not here to see,’ which only vexed Samuel even more.

Captain Orrell and Valiant seemed quite astounded and were both impressed with the display.

‘I had no idea you trained in such ways,’ Orrell noted. ‘It looks like some strange form of dancing to me. I don’t quite see the point of it, but it’s interesting nonetheless.’

Tudor forced them to begin again and the Koian men, Horse, Stone and Cloud, came wandering up towards them with their ears pricked up. It seemed they had been attracted by the intriguing noises of the magicians’ practice and had come to investigate. They stood at a distance, looking on with interest and talking excitedly amongst themselves. The magicians paused, but Grand Master Tudor gestured for them to continue and they did so obediently, moving in unison before the Koian observers.

When the trio was done once more, they collapsed onto the ground in exhausted heaps, sweating and thirsty and with Samuel thinking they may be in need of another rinse in the river after their effort.

‘Wonderful!’ said Horse, clapping with enthusiasm.

‘You enjoyed the display?’ Grand Master Tudor asked him, leaning on his stick and beaming with pride.

‘Oh, yes,’ Horse returned. ‘It’s interesting for us to see such similar movements here, so far away from our homeland. I did not know that magicians had need of such graceful steps. Tell me, how did you learn these motions? Do you use them for combat?’

‘Magicians are much attuned to the harmonies of our world, Mr Horse,’ Tudor explained. ‘These movements have been learned and developed by magicians since history began. If you say they are similar to what you know, then I presume that your people, too, have managed to discover the hidden patterns of the ether, which bring harmony between us and our world. We magicians do not fight, but we do harness our motions and the energies around us as best we can.’

‘Wonderful!’ Horse proclaimed again.

‘And you have seen these stances before? What are they used for?’ Eric asked with interest.

Horse seemed to recover some of his senses and his familiar serious expression returned. It seemed as if he had mentioned more than he should. ‘Thank you for the demonstration,’ he said with a solemn nod. ‘We will return to the camp.’

At that, he beckoned to his fellows and they turned around and sauntered back down the incline, talking furiously in their tongue.

After they had gone far enough away, Captain Orrell took his turn to speak. ‘I think you can see my suspicions are confirmed, Grand Master?’

‘Yes, I see what you mean,’ the old man responded, tapping his fingers along his staff.

Samuel and the Erics leapt up from their resting places on the ground.

‘What do you mean?’ Samuel asked with his curiosity fully piqued.

‘Those men are warriors, Samuel,’ Orrell said. ‘They may be posing as diplomats or servants or what-have-you, but their very movements and habits betray them.’

‘Can you be sure?’ Tudor asked.

‘Yes,’ Valiant put in. ‘We have been amongst fighting men all our lives and they move with the ways of trained soldiers.’

‘And what scares me most,’ Orrell added, ‘is that they are trying to hide the fact and doing very well at it. Valiant and I took notice only recently. They watch us and our movements with trained eyes, always on guard for any danger; gathering information. Those three are definitely fighters of some description and they are almost faultless at hiding it. They are trained to walk off-balance, well-practised in adding subtle mistakes to their movements, taking in everything around them and noting even the most subtle of gestures. But there is no mistaking it now. It seems their curiosity got the better of them, as you suspected.’

‘Why would they not tell us this?’ Goodfellow enquired.

‘Why, indeed,’ Tudor agreed. ‘It may be they are merely asecretiveculture, or perhaps they have hidden intentions. They could be bodyguards, or assassins. Whatever the answer, we must remember that from this point we cannot fully trust them-not until we learn more. What say you on the matter, Master Celios?’

The balding Master was biting at his fingernail and seemed startled from his thoughts. ‘I cannot say. My visions showed nothing of this,’ he said with some alarm. ‘I only felt that they must accompany us to Ghant. I have no insight beyond that at all. Nothing at all.’

‘Then do nothing, Captain,’ the old magician instructed. ‘And you three, make as if you know nothing. We must remain wary, but until they offer any sign that they are a danger, we will give them the benefit of the doubt. I will find a time and a place to question them.’

To that, Samuel, Eric and Goodfellow agreed.

‘You’ve been talking with them all this time, Eric,’ Goodfellow said. ‘Didn’t you notice anything?’

To which Eric shook his head guiltily. ‘No. Not at all. I don’t know anything about assassins,’ he added defensively.

‘That doesn’t matter,’ Tudor told them. ‘I couldn’t tell, myself. Only Captain Orrell has the keen eye required to spot such things.’

‘And what about their leader-Canyon?’ Samuel asked.

‘He worries me the most,’ Captain Orrell admitted. ‘If he is like the other three, then he is the best of them. He gives nothing away at all. Or perhaps he is only a diplomat, as he says. Either way, I would be wary of him. I don’t trust him.’

Again, Grand Master Tudor nodded solemnly. ‘We will not force them on this issue. Nowthattheir secret is lost, the advantage is ours.’

‘But I’m sure they realise,’ Orrell added. ‘It will be interesting to see what they do next.’

They began back to camp as the sun was setting and the smell of their dinner began wafting up the hill, but Samuelintuitivelyfeltthat the nervous Master Celios was not saying all that he knew.

When the party finally emerged from the trees, they found themselves on a well-worn track, forged by woodsmen into the pines. Turning right along its length, it was only half an hour before they came to a highway that, remarkably, was a veritable stream of people, all heading west as if in mass exodus. Most of the people carried their belongings or led horses or donkeys or wagons,and they travelled in clusters of friends or families, but the occasional oneswalked alone and half-naked in these chilly heights, as if they had nothing at all totheir name.

It took the rest of the afternoon, zigzagging up valleys and hugging hillsides,before they came to what normally would have been a small mountain town. Now, it was surroundedbyall manner of makeshift roofs and coveringsandgrown to ten times its normal size. The streets were slippery with mud and full of pools and potholes that had been dug by the passing of so many feet,and Orrell had to shout before the crowd would even notice them and give way. They made straight through the town without resting and headed directly for the peaks that loomed above. Finally, they hadalmostreached their destination, for Ghant was only hours away.