"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.