Ilkar massaged his nose and pulled at his lips with his right hand. His eyes narrowed.

‘How long have they been there?’ he asked.

‘Who cares?’ said Hirad. ‘I’m still waiting to—’

‘Hold on, Hirad.’

‘No, Ilkar, I will not bloody hold on.’ Hirad raised his voice. He turned on Denser. ‘You might as well have been talking tribal Wessen for all I’ve understood so far. You’ve got your stupid pipe stuck in your stupid mouth and you’ve balled on about dimensions, Dragonene and some old threat that’s been gone hundreds of years like it was important. I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about and I’m no nearer knowing why that Witch Hunter bastard killed my friend.’

‘I sympathise with your need to understand,’ said Denser gently.

‘You have absolutely no idea what I need, Xetesk man.’ Hirad’s voice was gruff. He drained his glass and passed it to The Unknown for a refill. ‘You have no idea of the gulf that has opened up in my life and you are running in circles around the answer to the only question that could help me begin to grieve. Why did that assassin want you dead so badly?’

Denser paused before replying. ‘I’m trying to make sure this all comes out the right way round,’ he said. ‘Can I explain a few other things first?’

‘No, you can explain one. Why did that assassin want you dead?’

Denser sighed. ‘Because of what I am carrying.’

‘And what is that exactly?’ asked Hirad.

‘This.’ He pulled the amulet stolen from Sha-Kaan from his shirt, where it had been hanging on a chain around his neck. ‘It’s the key to Septern’s workshop.’

‘Couldn’t you just kick the door down?’ Hirad’s voice was layered with contempt. ‘I mean, is that it? Is that trinket why Sirendor died?’ He caught Ilkar’s expression and stayed his next words. ‘What is it, Ilkar?’

The elf snapped his gaze to Hirad and focused on him as if from a great distance.

‘Dawnthief,’ he breathed, his face white as death. ‘He’s going after Dawnthief.’

Erienne was settling Aron and Thom down to sleep when Isman walked into the room unannounced. She had been allowed the entire afternoon and evening with them and had chosen to tell them stories of old magic. Neither child strayed far from the comfort of her arms.

At her insistence, the fire had been lit and the single window opened all day, though her request for the boys to be allowed to play in the inner courtyard was refused.

She had spent some time calming their fears before they would listen to her words; and as usual, none were wasted in her pursuit of their detailed education in the ways of Dordovan magic. She spoke of the ancient days, when the Colleges were one and the first City of magic was built at Triverne Lake, and of the darker days of the sundering, when the City was raised and the Colleges split to build their own strongholds. And she talked of the lore which governed the lives of all mages and distanced one College’s mages from the others, and of the mana with which they shaped their spells.

The boys tired as the light faded, and she built up the fire. They took a dinner of hot soup, potatoes and green leaves in near silence. She washed their faces and brushed their hair. The Captain had left flannels and a brush in the room, saying a man should always look neat and dignified. Erienne wished he’d take his own counsel.

Isman’s intrusion came with her humming a tune to the boys as they nodded off, jerking them back to a startled, anxious wakefulness.

‘Could you not have knocked?’ Erienne didn’t turn round at the sound of boots on the cold stone floor.

‘The Captain will see you now,’ said Isman.

‘When my boys are asleep,’ said Erienne, keeping her voice soft and stroking her sons’ heads to soothe them. Their eyes played over her face, anxiety plain in the frowns they wore. Her anger stirred.

‘The Captain feels you have spent enough time with them for now.’

‘I will be the judge of that,’ hissed Erienne.

‘No,’ said Isman. ‘You will not.’

At last she turned to the door. Isman stood in the room with three other men behind him. She leaned into the boys and kissed each on the forehead.

‘I have to go now,’ she whispered. ‘Be good and go to sleep. I’ll be back to see you soon.’ She smoothed their hair from their faces.

Rising, she faced Isman and his henchmen, every fibre screaming at her to take them apart. And she could, all of them. But her boys would die as a direct consequence. They had no way to escape the castle grounds and the Captain had too many men. She bit back the spell, mana flow ceasing.

‘You didn’t need your muscle,’ she said. ‘I’m not going to cause trouble.’

‘You and yours already have,’ said Isman. He led the way to the library.

Despite the warmth cast by the fires still burning in the room, the air felt cool. The Captain was seated behind the reading desk, two soft lanterns illuminating the book he was studying. A half-empty bottle of spirits stood to his left and beside it, a freshly replenished glass. He didn’t look up as she approached across the rugs as prompted by Isman, who withdrew, closing the door behind him.

‘Sit.’ The Captain waved his hand at a hard-backed chair the other side of the desk. ‘Tell me,’ he said, not looking up, ‘why Xetesk might be after Dawnthief?’

‘I should think that would be obvious,’ said Erienne.

The Captain regarded her bleakly, his voice chill. ‘Assume that it is not.’

‘Ownership of Dawnthief guarantees domination for its owners. Why do you think they should want it?’ She kept her face calm, but inside, her mind was in turmoil and her heart beat feverishly in her chest. She’d kept the thoughts from her mind while she was with Aron and Thom, but now the enormity of what the Captain had intimated earlier was scaring her.

‘There isn’t much written about it, you see,’ he said. ‘How much should I be worrying about it? Can Xetesk find it?’

‘Gods, yes, we should all worry about it!’

‘Can they find it?’

‘I don’t know.’ Erienne bit her lip.

‘That is a particularly unhelpful answer.’ The Captain’s voice rose a notch, his face flushing slightly.

‘Well, it all depends on finding the way into Septern’s workshop. If they have the information, they could go on to recover the complete spell, I suppose. It’s all so much speculation.’

‘You still aren’t helping me,’ said the Captain.

‘I can help you best by reporting your concerns and information to Dordover. It would be the quickest way to stop them, or at least control them.’

The Captain drank deeply and refilled his glass. He smiled. ‘Nice try, but I’m hardly going to let you take a report back to your elders merely to have both Colleges chasing the same prize, am I? And may I remind you that any attempt at communion would be most unwise. I have the ability to detect such a casting, and for your boys, I’m afraid it would be fatal.’

Erienne’s jaw dropped. There was only one way he could do that.

‘You have mages working for you?’ Her tone was incredulous.

‘Not every mage believes me a menace to magic,’ said the Captain smoothly. ‘For many I am the only source of control.’ He smiled. ‘And now you are working for me too, in a way.’

‘As a slave,’ snapped Erienne. She was badly shaken but it all made sense. How else could he gather his information so quickly? They had to be from Lystern, possibly Julatsa. Mages from Xetesk and Dordover would not entertain the thought of working for him. She tried again. ‘You don’t understand. Dawnthief is too big to play games with. If Xetesk controls it, they control everything, including you. If you make public what you know, the three Colleges will stop them; surely your pet mages have told you that.’

‘No, indeed they have not,’ said the Captain, all hint of mirth gone from his hard, reddening face. ‘What they have told me is that this absolute power must be held by no mage or College and that the means to cast it must be destroyed or kept by a man who has the knowledge to hold it but not the ability to cast it. Should the spell be fully recovered, I will be its guardian.’