And suddenly there below was Verfaren. Ten miles was not so far on those great wings, thank the Winds and the Lady. The lights in the town shone on winding streets, and lights in the windows gleamed in the darkness, but the College on the hill was dark as death.

Shikrar landed hard outside what I assumed was the College of Mages—it was the largest set of buildings and had its own walled courtyard—and he didn't so much release me as throw me to the ground. I rose to find him facing the gates. A large Gedri, heavily armed, took one look at Shikrar and ran silently and with great concentration into the night and away from anything he might have been guarding. Shikrar ignored him.

The gates of the College of Mages were astoundingly strong, as it proved. They withstood a blow from the Eldest of the Kantri without breaking, which was one blow more than I had thought it would take. When Shikrar hit them again—harder—the entire frame came away from the stone walls and the still-locked gates fell to the ground with a great crash.

There was a single human figure in the courtyard, barely visible in the dimness. He called out, "Jameth of Arinoc!" and ran towards me, thereby striking me as being very clever.

Shikrar rushed into the courtyard and looked around frantically, echoing my desperation. "Where, Akhor?" he cried. His voice boomed and echoed in the cobbled square.

I ran up to the shaking man and caught him by the shoulders. "Where is Jamie? Where is LanenP"

"I don't know," he said, and even in that darkness lit only by fitful glimpses of the moon I could see that his eyes were wide and staring. "Most likely there, you see those grates?"

He pointed to a row of small gratings to the right of the courtyard, maybe five feet above ground level. Light gleamed in one of them as we spoke.

"Shikrar! There, where the light shines, she is within!"

I struggled furiously against the holding spell, but I might as well have tried to dig a well with a fork. Lanen, away to my left, was swearing at the guards, who ignored her. When we were all inside the cell, Berys had his guards shut and lock the door while he cast a silence around us. "Don't bother yelling," said Marik smugly. "No sound can pass those barriers. In either direction."

Berys busied himself directing the guards, who drew stones from their packs and started building something while he started drawing things on the floor. I couldn't yet tell what it was going to be, but I was certain to my marrow that it held my death. They might want Lanen for something particular but I was of no use to them at all.

I had nothing to lose. Might as well enjoy myself.

"Bloody Marik of bloody Gundar," I spat. At least I might enjoy a litde Marik-baiting, if I could do nothing else. "Last I heard you were mindless and drooling."

"No change there, then," put in Lanen. Her face was white and drained, but her voice was steady as a rock.

Marik ignored her and came near to me, staring intently. "Who the devil are you to give a damn?" he asked, lifting a lantern and peering at me.

I glared back at him, unable to fight, unable to move a muscle. "I could have killed you stone dead back then," I spat. "Should have finished the job." A defiant smile touched my lips. "Though I hear you've been limping ever since. Some good comes of everything, seemingly."

"Who in all the Hells are you?" he asked again. "I don't remember you! No human gave me this limp, it was the demons when we made the—"

"Oh, no," I interrupted. "We gave you that limp right enough. Indirectly. And at the least, Maran broke a few of your ribs for you. I heard them go."

His eyes widened. "You bastard! You were the one who took on Berys while she knocked me out! You and that whore Maran ruined my life!" Marik cursed, throwing down his lantern. He grabbed the front of my tunic to steady himself and threw a punch at me with all his strength. I saw it coming and managed to turn my face away enough tp save my nose, but my jaw hurt like hell—and I could do nothing but wait for the next one.

"Your courage astounds me, Father," drawled Lanen sarcastically as Marik drew back for a worse blow. "Striking a helpless man. Such daring."

He stepped over to where she was held and slapped her, hard. "Mock while you can, Daughter," he snarled, turning the last word into a curse. "You're demon fodder."

"Leave off, Marik, I need that one," murmured Berys. "Come, it's time. You," he called to one of the guards, "bring her to the altar." It was only a few steps. No!

"Damn you, let her alone!" I shouted, stupidly.

It was come, then. My ending, or the start of some foul half-life I dared not even think on. I was still held by Berys's spell, which I could do nothing about. Terror gripped me, gut-wrenching, breath-stealing terror.

That was what did it, I think.

I have always gone straight from fear to anger, and the greater the fear, the deeper the anger. But what took me over was not anger, or not only anger. It was—it was most like that moment when you first become aware and leave childhood behind forever; or when you first had to deal with death and you realised that life is always too short. I felt the change in my breath, in my blood, in the very beating of my heart, and it happened between one instant and the next. My very vision changed—it was the difference between looking at rain through thick glass and stepping out into a thunderstorm, when you can not only see but feel and hear the downpour and smell every drop. And it was not vision only that was affected. I had always known Berys was evil but now I could see it, and worse yet I could smell it. He reeked, a stench like rotten meat but much worse, coming off him in waves. I was hard put to it not to retch. He was my death and he stood there smiling.

And the soul's-fire I had discovered in that dry hopeless place exploded like a newborn star.

I threw back my head and cried aloud, words I didn't understand, and a great pulse of power blazed from me. The guard screamed and let go, Marik staggered backwards and fell, and I could feel Berys s will shatter and saw him reeling from the shock. I could move.

I often wonder what would have happened next if the wall hadn't disappeared.

I was trying still to master myself in the face of whatever the Hells the girl had done when I felt it, a rumble deeper than sound that shook my feet—there was no more warning than that, thanks to Berys's brilliant idea to keep us all from being distracted by sounds from outside—and my nightmare rose howling before me.

I could neither move nor act, I could not think, I could only stare and scream. I had dreamed this so many times, dreading it both mad and sane, seen it again and again—but this was not in some distant place, half legend, where dragons dwelt and anything might happen. This was not some light timber frame wall being torn away. The walls of the College were of shaped stone, three feet thick and centuries old, and that monster pulled down fifteen feet of wall at once. It was twice the size of the silver one, its head barely fit within the room, its vast bronze jaws agape and roaring, tearing down more of the wall to get at me.

I felt someone take me by the arm to throw me to it. I fought with all my strength, but that grip was iron. A brilliant fight flared before my eyes and I was tossed into it, whether I would or no.

A moment of nothing, a moment in which nor breath nor light existed, and I stumbled out onto a high platform under quiet stars. There were high mountains around about me with snow on their sharp summits, ghostly in the pale moonlight. It was peaceful, a good place, it almost looked familiar—so long ago—faint memories of years long past, coming to the top of this tower as a child, wrapped in a bear skin to keep warm, gazing with delight on the mountains in winter . .. bloody Hells.