‘She is strong,’ said Thraun, looking up for a moment. ‘She fights.’

‘I know Thraun but I can’t be there with her. It’s not . . .’ Denser trailed off and the desperation he’d been trying to hide burst on to his face. He stood helplessly, the rain pounding down harder now, and gestured uselessly. ‘She’s alone in there. What if I’ve lost her?’

Hirad scrambled to his feet and stood in front of Denser, grabbing his shoulders.

‘No one’s losing anyone,’ he said. ‘Not this time. We can beat this, all of it. We’re—’

‘I know,’ said Denser, his smile weak but genuine. ‘The Raven.’

‘And don’t you forget it. She’s not alone and neither are you.’

Rebraal had returned during the exchange and was checking on Evunn.

‘Here’s what we do,’ said The Unknown. ‘The elves go back to their lines. Evunn needs help and maybe he’ll get it there. We have to get ourselves away from here and hidden. Darrick, how far can you walk? Hirad, Thraun, you too. No exaggeration.’

‘It’s a question of where, not how far,’ said Darrick. ‘We’re the opposite side of the city to where we need to be. And we’re too close to the walls. I’d say the walk back for us under normal conditions would be about three hours. It’s four ’til dawn. There’s nothing I’d call good cover without taking a massive detour. We either head for the Al-Arynaar, or burrow in here. Getting halfway and being captured in the daylight won’t help us.’

He was right and they all knew it. Hirad felt his chest. The bleeding had stopped but he’d lost a fair bit of blood. He couldn’t fight again until the cut was at least partially healed. Darrick’s limp was pronounced and Thraun’s trouser leg was stained dark with blood. Four hours wouldn’t be enough.

‘Then we have to stay here.’

‘No,’ said Rebraal, joining them. ‘It’s too dangerous here. Supplies come here every night.’

‘So what do you suggest?’

‘We will run back with Evunn. Sian will stay with you and you walk as far as you can. The ClawBound will find you. We will send help. Elven help.’

‘We can’t afford to be caught in the open,’ said The Unknown.

‘The ClawBound will find you first.’

Hirad shrugged. ‘What choice do we have?’

Dystran had changed his blood-soaked shoes and washed the sweat and grime from his face and hands before joining the survivors of his top team. None of them looked any better than Ranyl who had also made the early-hours meeting in the minor banqueting hall.

He surveyed the tired, drawn pale faces in front of him. The Circle Seven was broken. Two had died, one in the corridors under attack from the TaiGethen, one by The Raven. Kestys was dead too, so was Gylac, removing his most senior dimensional and elven archive expertise. The mages who had been researching the connectivity spells were gone too, slaughtered in Laryon’s hub. The Gods knew how many others had fallen. Suarav and Chandyr had yet to confirm the number of dead college guard and reservists but it had to run close to three figures.

The shock around the table was understandable. All this damage, and caused by so few. Dystran took them all in one by one. Suarav and Chandyr sat together, backs to the door, which was flanked outside by guards. The oval table was only half full. Ranyl, with his cat in his lap, was the only one exhibiting calm. For the remainder of the Circle, Dessyn, Prexys and Hyloch, the night in the catacombs had shattered their belief in their own security. Each of them knew that they were alive only because they had not run into The Raven or the TaiGethen.

‘Gentlemen,’ began Dystran, once a servant had poured him a mug of sweet herb tea and withdrawn. ‘I am aware of how you must all be feeling. I am aware that it is tempting to cast about for blame. We will not fall to that temptation. The purpose of this gathering is to assess the damage to our operation quickly, agree what actions will follow and so allow us, those that can, a few hours’ rest before dawn.’

‘We must examine the failings of our security,’ said Dessyn, the Soul Tank Master. He was a middle-aged man of massive magical ability but no real strength of will.

‘I think I have already made myself clear,’ said Dystran. ‘The time for such an assessment is in the future. May I remind you that outside our city, there are a considerable number of enemies determined to win the war. It is our duty to stop them and examining our security lapses will not do that. Besides, we know how they got in and where they got out.’

Dessyn opened his mouth and had half-raised a finger to point at Suarav when Dystran cut him off.

‘Enough. Dessyn, if any of us had foreseen that Denser and The Raven were not only at Xetesk but with the elves in the raid, we would not be having this meeting. Do not point at others except in so much as to blame yourself. After all, Suarav knew nothing of the passage from the warehouse. No non-mage did until tonight. Instead, tell me this. Where are the Protectors?’

‘Not all are accounted for,’ replied Dessyn, his face reddening from the rebuke. ‘Some have disappeared into the city, others tried to leave Xetesk altogether. Thirty-seven are currently inside the college. We are holding them in the barracks.’

‘Leaving how many loose?’

Dessyn looked at Chandyr. ‘Commander?’

‘Given I don’t know if any, other than Myx, were killed in the catacombs, though I doubt it, that would leave sixty-eight at large. I am assuming they are not necessarily loyal but not necessarily a threat, either.’

‘Very well,’ said Dystran. ‘Chandyr, you need to assess those we hold. I suspect like you that they will not fight with us. Make sure they are treated well. They are a problem of our own making and they will be respected. None will be hurt or forced to do anything against their wills. Ensure they understand that and see that word gets out into the city. Don’t waste resources searching for the lost; let’s hope they choose to come to us.

‘Next, research.’

Faces around the table became, if anything, longer than before. Dystran tried to ignore them.

‘Elven translations?’

‘Unfinished,’ said Ranyl. ‘And with Gylac and his assistant dead, we would struggle to confirm any theory, or indeed complete our researches even if the Aryn Hiil and associated writings hadn’t been taken.’

‘Right, so that’s a disaster,’ said Dystran. ‘Let’s scrub it for now, there’s nothing we can do about it in the short term. Dimensional connectivity and inter-dimensional focus?’

‘Well, Kestys demonstrated the Soul Tank linkage was divisible without risk,’ said Prexys, dryly. ‘At least it suggests our calculations of dimensional alignment are correct.’

Dystran rather liked Prexys. He was ancient, older than Ranyl, and trustworthy because he had no desire to rule. Not any more. His age had refined his acerbic wit, though this time, Dystran was the only one who smiled.

‘That’s something, I suppose. Did anyone check the research rooms in Laryon’s hub?’

‘Nothing has been damaged there, my Lord,’ said Prexys. ‘Unlike your own base. Much of the information there has been destroyed or taken.’

‘And what has gone?’

‘Oh, nothing much,’ said Prexys, eyebrows rising. ‘The latest map, the seeker-spell routines and the gateway structure research.’

‘Nothing much,’ muttered Hyloch. ‘The damage they have done.’

‘It is not terminal,’ said Dystran. ‘It is a setback, nothing more. It changes nothing except the speed of our actions.’

‘They have taken the basis for everything,’ said Hyloch.

‘But not the method for that which we need most urgently.’ Dystran could see that they didn’t understand. He leaned back. ‘Let’s go back a little way. The vents. Suarav, tell me your plan.’

Suarav looked surprised. ‘Well—’

‘For the benefit of us all,’ added Dystran.