‘Yes, I think we should. We’re in trouble.’

Denser indicated they walk away from the barn, and the two men moved off together in the direction of the house.

‘I’m not—’

‘I think—’

A brief pause. Denser gestured for Hirad to speak.

‘We’ve got to take stock,’ he said. ‘The Raven isn’t used to its people dying. Not for years.’

‘I appreciate that,’ said Denser. ‘And I know we didn’t start off right—’

Hirad laughed, a contemptuous sound.

‘I’ll say we didn’t.’ His voice was low and cold. ‘First of all, your damned secrecy about what you involved us in almost killed me and ended in the death of my best friend. Then, because of that, we end up in this nightmare country and the second of my friends dies. To save you.’ Denser opened his mouth to speak but Hirad glared him down. ‘Your life is forfeit and I want you to know that the only reason you aren’t dead is that Ilkar seems to believe you are the only chance Balaia has got.’

The wind gusted, picking at Denser’s cloak. The cat’s ears appeared briefly at his neck line, twitched and withdrew. The mage pulled his pipe from a pocket, made to put it in his mouth and decided against it.

‘That’s all I really need to know. You of all The Raven have to believe in me even if you hate me for what has happened.’

‘I didn’t say I believed in you. I said Ilkar did, and that’s good enough for me.’ Hirad looked into Denser’s face, seeing a frown developing as his words sank in. ‘You just don’t get it, do you? It really doesn’t matter what I believe. Ilkar says this is important. The Unknown thought so too, and that means The Raven is with you. That’s why we’re so good. It’s called trust.’

‘And now there’s a problem.’

‘Well spotted, Denser. Yes, there is. Your lies and our haste led to The Raven’s heart being torn out.’ He took a pace forwards, threatening. Denser was unmoved. ‘The centre of The Raven. Me, Ilkar, Sirendor and the big man. We’ve been fighting together for more than ten years. We meet you and in less than one week two of us are dead. Dead.’ Hirad dropped his head and sucked his bottom lip as images of Sirendor crowded his mind.

‘We can still do this without them,’ said Denser. ‘We have to.’

‘Yeah? Did you somehow miss what happened yesterday? The Unknown took out five of those dogs on his own. Who do you think’s going to do it next time?’

‘Well, there’s you standing in front of me and two other good swordsmen in the barn. The only reason we believed we had a chance of recovering Dawnthief was that The Raven would be involved.’

‘And you’ve killed two of us already!’ said Hirad. ‘Gods, Denser, there just aren’t enough of us now. And none of us who’s left was ever as good as The Unknown. Or Sirendor.’

‘But that doesn’t—’

‘Listen to me!’ Hirad breathed deeply. ‘We cannot face another attack like yesterday.’

Denser nodded. He filled the bowl of his pipe and tamped the tobacco down. A muttered word and a flame appeared around the mage’s index finger. He lit the pipe.

‘I’ve considered this, believe me. And like you say, we have to take stock. Depending on how wide our search is for the components will decide how it’s going to go from here. That’s all I ask right now - that we go to the house, find the information we need, assuming it’s there, then all sit down and talk it through.’ He paused. ‘Now those Wesmen have got away from us, they’ll report to Parve. The Gods knows what that will lead to.’

‘Why were they here?’

‘Because the Wytch Lords will have always assumed that here was the key to Dawnthief. You have to stay with me, Hirad, whatever you think of me. This is too important for the whole of Balaia.’

‘So you keep saying,’ said Hirad. ‘But first we have a Vigil to observe. Then we’ll sort out this house and see where we are.’ He turned and walked back to the barn, Denser following a few paces behind.

The Dark Mage was invited to stay inside the barn while The Raven conducted a shorter Vigil than The Unknown deserved. It was a tradition as old as mercenary camaraderie, but this time reverence had to be tempered with the reality of the situation in which they found themselves; and it was for the same reason that they all left the barn and rode the short distance to the house soon after, instead of walking. Should the Wesmen come back, having the horses even as far away as the barn could prove fatal.

The once grand structure lay in almost complete ruin. Blackened stone and scorched wood were scattered around a central hub of collapsed walls, with the odd splash of colour from ancient furnishings somehow surviving.

The house was maybe two hundred feet on its longest side, and had a main entrance that was still just about discernible. Part of a stone archway leant at a crazy angle above a shattered stairway, and next to it the mangled remains of a window frame clung desperately to the vertical, a shred of material flapping in the breeze, stuck on a nail.

Hirad dismounted, the others following suit. Denser led the horses to a fallen tree some yards away, then returned to stand by Ilkar. Both stared at the destruction, concern plain on their faces.

‘What’s up?’ asked Hirad. ‘Someone burned his house down. So what?’

‘That’s the problem. You don’t just burn down a mage’s house,’ said Ilkar. ‘They’re too well protected. The power needed to do this—’ he gestured at the ruin - ‘is enormous.’

‘Is it?’ Hirad turned to Denser. ‘Still think we can do it?’ The Dark Mage raised his eyebrows. ‘So who did it? The Wytch Lords?’

‘Almost certainly,’ said Denser. ‘They would have known the extent of Septern’s research into Dawnthief just as we did. He obviously vanished before they got to him.’

‘Not happy, were they?’ Talan kicked at a piece of rubble.

‘Nor would you be. If they’d got hold of Dawnthief, it would all be over by now.’ It was Denser’s turn to look at Hirad. ‘That is why it’s so important we succeed. We must believe we can, and we must do it.’

‘Don’t lecture me, Denser,’ said Hirad. ‘Let’s get inside . . . well, you know, in.’ He pointed through what was left of the arch.

‘What are we looking for in there?’ asked Richmond.

‘If we’ve read the amulet correctly, the entrance to the workshop is through the floor, and Ilkar is going to have to divine the way through it,’ said Denser.

‘Why Ilkar?’ Talan frowned.

‘There’s Julatsan code on the amulet. Septern wanted it to be as hard as possible for mages to find his workshop, it seems.’

‘More than that,’ said Ilkar. ‘If it was going to be found, he wanted more than just Xetesk represented.’

‘I’m sorry, I’m not getting this,’ said Talan. ‘What College was Septern?’

‘Dordover,’ replied Denser. ‘And most of the code on there is Dordovan, but Xetesk could read that easily enough. What we couldn’t read was a passage concerning the opening of the door to the workshop, because it was based in the lore of Julatsa.’ Denser shrugged. ‘We could never read it even if a Julatsan mage told us how.’

‘So how did he write it?’

‘That, Richmond, is a good question. And I don’t know the answer. He may have worked with a Julatsan, but Ilkar’ll tell you that’s impossible.’

‘Not impossible. Just extremely unlikely. Shall we?’ Ilkar led the way over the crumbling rubble, leaping up the steps to the steadier ground on which the arch stood. He turned round. ‘Aren’t you coming in, Talan?’

‘Not yet. I think someone should keep a look-out, don’t you?’

‘Good idea.’ Ilkar moved gingerly into what was left of the mansion. Devastated stonework lay in chips, covering the cracked stone floor and making walking tricky. Nothing much else was left. The wall by a fireplace had survived to three feet, and beneath the flame marks, a pale blue was just visible. As for the furnishings, a few pieces of scattered wood and iron, the odd strip of deep green upholstery and the oval of a table top were all that remained.