9. Word of War

I knew, then. I knew there was no magic in me. I knew I had no place here. But I had nowhere else to go, and I faced the threat of prison or death if I left the Academy's walls. So I went on with my classes, I went on pretending, but I did it all in a mechanical way. Time slipped by, unconnected from me. I lost track of Themmichus. And soon I lost Antinus, too. He would bring me a reading list, then leave to pursue his own studies. We all knew. I was only killing time.

Still I met with the Masters, and it went again as it had before. Bennethis dismissed me. Leotus repeated instructions I knew by heart. Alteres tried to guide me, demonstrated working after working, but I saw nothing. The Chancellor looked for some critical piece that I was missing. And then Seriphenes came for me again. I spent six months at the Academy, and three nightmare days locked in a sweltering dark closet while Seriphenes waited, silent and terrible without.

Time dragged on and on, and day after day I waited and hoped that I would make some breakthrough or receive some message from Claighan or notice some measure of real progress, but nothing happened. For seventeen weeks I put up with all the rude remarks, all the quiet, lonely hours, and all the frustrations of trying to move a world that refused to budge. Finally, as summer came to an end and fall began, a breath of change came to the Academy.

I first noticed it in the excited whispers passing along the halls, the half-formed rumors spreading like fire among the students and just beyond my hearing as I made my way from class to my room. I walked with head tilted, straining to make out the news that had everyone so excited, but I reached my room with nothing more than a nervous energy and a burning curiosity.

For a long time I sat on my bed, trying to focus on the reading Antinus had assigned me. But the words faded to gray before my eyes. I couldn't focus. Instead, my mind kept turning back to the puzzle. What in all this world could so powerfully capture the excitement of so many arrogant, spoiled children? A visit from the king?

My heart turned cold at the thought. Perhaps he was already here, wandering the halls with sharp eyes and a burning temper. He was a well-liked king, fond of festivals and indulgent with the people's wealth, but I had seen him face-to-face. In my mind, he was a monster prowling, a beast hunting me by scent.

Suddenly there came a banging on my door, and I jumped, my heart stopping in fear. Before I could move the door slipped open enough to admit Themmichus and then fell shut behind him. He looked as excited as all the rest of them, eyes wide, mouth open, more than a little breathless.

And then his gaze fell on me and he frowned. "Did I scare you?"

"No," I lied. "I was studying a volume that Antinus—"

"Of course you were. Well never mind that. Have you heard?"

I wanted to play it cool, to shrug it off. I didn't want to be one of them, bubbling with excitement at the newest gossip from court. But my curiosity would not let me.

And besides, it was Themmichus. I could not resist his eager grin. So I shook my head. "I haven't heard anything. What's going on?"

"War." There was a gleam in his eye, shadowed by a hint of fear but intense nonetheless. For a moment I simply stared at him, unhearing.

"War? In the kingdom?"

"War twenty miles from here! The king's army marches in the Ardain!"

I could see it in his eyes, then, and I understood. I understood the energy bubbling through every corridor of the Academy. I remembered it, from a quiet, spring afternoon on the hill outside Sachaerrich. I'd seen the same excitement in the eyes of my friends when they heard Cooper was going off to join the Guard.

My stomach clenched at the thought. War. Cooper was not made for war. He was made for long days in his father's shop. He was made for fire brigade, maybe, and he would have done well enough in a city watch. He would have done well enough in the Guard, too, when that had meant digging roads and settling tavern brawls—although he'd have done even better starting them—but he was not made for war. He would be on his way, though, and a thousand other promising young sons of happy, quiet villages.

Themmichus stepped closer, and a line formed between his brows as he frowned up at me. "Well? Aren't you excited? Think of the stories they'll tell."

"I'm thinking of one right now," I said.

He tilted his head, waiting for more, and after a moment I took a deep breath.

"I'm thinking of someone I knew," I said. "Someone who received a commission to the Guard just before I came to study here."

"Cooper?" I felt my eyes widen, and he laughed at me. "You've told that story a dozen times, Daven. Why are you worried about him now?"

"Because he'll be marching to war," I said. "He could be killed."

Themmichus shrugged. "I thought you didn't like Cooper."

"I don't," I said. I felt another pang in my stomach and sank back down on the edge of my bed. "I haven't thought of him in months. But here and now, I feel a deep sadness for him." I took a breath and closed my eyes. "And not just for him. For all the boys in these halls."

"Oh," he said, and he deflated. He took a step away and nodded. "All these little boys?"

I met his eyes. "Yes," I said, tired. "Honestly, yes. You're the best of them, Themmichus. But you're all...." I flexed my hands, helpless, trying to find the words.

He supplied them for me. "The rich children of an easy life." He spat the words at me and I hung my head.

"You think it sounds like fun," I said. "So did they. My friends in Sachaerrich. They thought it sounded like an adventure. But it's not. It's fighting. It's good people dying."

He stared at me for a long time, and I could not meet his eyes. Finally he said, "I thought you would be excited. I thought you would be more excited than all of us together."

I shook my head. "No. I have known the pain of loss."

"I don't understand!" He took a hard step toward me, stomping his foot. "Since the day I met you all you've ever wanted was to be a soldier! How can you look down on us—"

"It's not an adventure," I said, but my voice sounded weak in my own ears. He listened anyway, so I went on. "It was never about the adventure. I want to be a soldier because it is good work, laying down my life for a good cause."

"Why can't Cooper be doing that?" he asked. "Why can't that be the thing that has us so excited?"

I looked at him for a long time. I had an answer, but I didn't dare say it. Because they couldn't know. An easy life is too easily offered up for glory by a fool who cannot know the cost. "Because you have a life worth living," I said at last. "You have a name, even if you won't tell me what it is. You have the promise of power. If you want to change the world, do it that way." I took a deep breath and nodded. "I should be a soldier, because the only chance I have of ever changing the world is by the strength of my body. But you have so much more to offer."

His foot twitched, toes tapping rapidly against the cool stone floor. His lips pursed, and for a moment his eyes remained hard on mine. But then he blushed, and he dropped his head, and he nodded.

"I can understand," he said. "I can see why you would think like that. I'm just sorry you couldn't be happy." He sniffed and shrugged one shoulder. "I thought I might get to see you happy."

I looked away. "I'm sorry, Themm."

"They...they're offering an amnesty," he said. "I came to tell you that. The king has offered a general pardon to any able-bodied fighter from the Ardain who reports to the post in Pollix."

I stared at him, stunned. And then I felt a smile tug at my lips. "A rumor?"

He shook his head, short and sharp. "No. I received news from my father today, good and true. There's a call to arms across the Northlands, too, and every shipbuilder on the Isle has been pressed to service to build the ferry fleet. The king is looking to obliterate the rebel's forces."

I sat back. I rubbed my eyes then shook my head. I started to my feet. "You may get to see me happy after all, Themm."

He nodded, but there was sadness in his eyes. "I know. But I...I didn't want to tell you that part."

I shook my head, mouth split in a grin, eyebrows raised in confusion. "What? But why?" He bit his lip instead of answering, and I understood. I felt the joy fade from my eyes, my grin, but it still burned in my chest. I felt the touch of compassion cool beside it, though.

I put a hand on his shoulder and he looked up. I gave him a smile. "I'll miss you, too."

He shrugged, doing his best to look unconcerned, but he had to look away again.

I sighed. "I know you lost friends for spending time with me."

His eyes snapped up to mine, and there was something fierce in them. Offended. "You think so, huh? No, Daven. That's not it."

I let my hand fall from his shoulder. I frowned down at him, confused, and he frowned right back. "I lost friends because I saw the kind of people they were. For what they did to you. I lost friends because I walked away from them when I saw what a hero looked like."

"A hero?" I almost laughed, but he cut me off with a vicious glare.

"Yes. Because I saw you on your first day here. I saw you when you were torn and tattered and afraid. I saw you when everyone hated you and all you wanted in the world was to go away somewhere you'd be safe from all of it. And you didn't. You stayed. And you fought. You fought Archus when you didn't know half a seeming. And even after he made a mockery of you in front of everyone...." He trailed off, sputtering, then started again. "Even when Seriphenes locked you in a cell till even bell...."

He shook his head, and I saw tears in his eyes. "My father told me a long time ago that there are heroes, Daven. And that they're usually not noble-born, and they're usually not much to look at, but that if I ever found one I should bind myself close to him and study at his sunburned feet." He sniffled, and wiped a sleeve at his nose. "And you were everything he ever described."

I fell back onto the edge of my bed. "Themmichus...I had no idea. I thought you were just...."

"Nice," Themmichus said. "You thought I was just nice. Because I'm little. You probably thought I could use a big strong friend, for that matter." His lip curled in disgust. "I fought for you, Daven. My name holds power, even here. I fought the Chancellor for you. I wrote home to tell my family what a remarkable warrior you are, and my sister has nearly fallen in love with you just from secondhand stories. My father sent a letter of complaint to Seriphenes that nearly got Archus expelled. I thought you were a good man. We all did." His shoulders rose and fell, and his face was flushed. His eyes flashed fire.

I hung my head. "But what am I supposed to do?"

"You're supposed to fight," he said. "Not in storybook wars. Not in stupid, bloody battles. You're supposed to fight the bullies and the powers and your own self-pity and become a real-life hero."

I looked at my hands. I couldn't raise my voice above a mumble. "I haven't seen you much, these last few weeks."

I felt his nod. "You haven't made the time," he said. "I thought it would pass. I thought you would find your spark, call your power, and then things would change."

I took a deep breath, but it did nothing to ease the tension in my chest. I let it out in a weary sigh. "I'm sorry, Themm. There is no magic in me."

"You haven't even been here a year," he said. "You cannot know that. Most of us have schooling all our lives before we ever come to study here."

"It's not about schooling," I said. "The Chancellor said so. It's about my heart. I don't belong here."

"Then change your heart," Themmichus said. He was begging. "You said it yourself. You have so much more to offer."

I should have met his eyes. I wanted to. I couldn't. "I'm sorry, Themm. I can't. I have tried and tried and tried." I thought of long black days trapped in a closet, desperate for any trace of light. "I can't."

He didn't answer. For a long time he stood there, towering over me despite his size. And then he turned, without a word, and left.

I sat there for a while feeling empty. He had been my only friend at the Academy. In some ways, he had been my only friend ever. He had believed in me. I wanted to go after him, to tell him I was sorry, to make it right.

But I couldn't. It had nothing to do with pride. It had to do with...well, with the world as it was. I would not stay here. Not now. I was going off to war, to take the king's amnesty. Anything else I said to Themmichus would ring hollow.

So I rose, said my good-bye to the open door, and took my travel pack from the armoire. I stuffed it with three sets of sturdy clothes from the commissary. I almost put the sword belt back in the bag, as it had been on our disastrous flight from the capitol, but a flash of memory was enough to stop me. I sighed, long and low, and buckled the belt around my waist for the first time in months. The weight of it felt good.

And then I heard a knock on my open door. Antinus stepped through then raised an eyebrow as he cast a glance at the sword on my hip. "I thought I told you to leave that in your room," he said.

I met his eyes for a long moment, and he nodded. "Not your room anymore?"

"Not for long," I said.

He nodded again. "I expected something like that when I heard the news. You're going off to be a soldier?" He didn't really wait for my nod. He leaned against the doorframe and breathed a little sigh. "You have been a good student, Daven. A remarkable one, even if you never changed a thread of reality. It was my honor to teach you our principles, if not our secret workings."

I felt tears sting my eyes. They weren't really for Antinus, but he was the one who got them. "You have been one of three kindnesses in this place. I thank you for taking the time and risk of teaching me. If we ever cross paths again, please consider me your friend."

He smiled, then solemnly we shook hands and said serious good-byes. Then he turned and retreated down the hall. Finally alone, I felt a fever of excitement and fear stirring in my blood, but as I turned to survey the little room I realized it was time to go. Now. With my heart set on a course of action, I couldn't stay here a moment longer.

I waited only long enough for Antinus to leave the hall. Then I took the washed-leather purse Sherrim had given me in Sachaerrich, still heavy with the weight of unspent pennies, and tied it on my belt. I slung the heavy leather pack over my shoulder and cast one look over my little room. In the blink of an eye I was ready to go, with everything I needed hanging on my back, and some weary flicker of hope in my heart for the first time in weeks. In an instant I exchanged one future for another in my mind, in the space of an hour I rebuilt my whole world. I don't know how I was able to do it so quickly, but I saw only suffering and frustration here, and I saw glory and freedom in the King's Guard. At last I had an easy choice.

I slipped from my room, turned left, and opened the little wooden door at the end of the dormitory hall. It opened onto the front courtyard, one none of the students ever really visited. As I stepped out into the late afternoon sun, I remembered why.

The Academy's front gates loomed, massive and scrolled with deep, curling runes that whispered with a dark, foreboding power. I felt the immensity of them from a hundred paces away, the finality of them, and a shiver chased down my spine. I took a step in their direction, and for a moment I thought I saw an image among the twisted curls that covered the gates. A face, lost in the intricate sigils. For a heartbeat it was Themmichus. Then Claighan. And then it was gone, and I knew it all for my imagination.

But it was enough to stop me. I stood beneath the gates, staring at them across a great dusty distance. Then I took a deep breath, and it settled in my chest like a heavy weight. I closed my eyes, turned in place, and returned to the Dormitory.

This time I didn't enter through the side door nearest my room. I went around to the main entrance on the south wall, and down the building's central hall as wide as a boulevard. Halfway down, on the right, I approached the familiar door to the office of the Kind Father.

I knocked as I entered, and the old priest looked up from his place behind a desk scattered with papers and open books. His eyes widened as I entered. "You're three days early."

"I'm here to say goodbye," I told him. "I don't care if he can't really hear me. I just need to say it."

He held my eyes for a long time, then shook his head. "You may have better luck than you expected," he said. "But you will have to wait."

I frowned. "Why?"

"Because he is awake." At those words I was in his office in an instant, and halfway across it before he continued solemnly. "And he is not here."

I stopped, but I had come far enough to see the truth of it. I could see into the room, and the bed was empty. I looked to the Kind Father and the question was clear in my eyes.

"This afternoon," he said, rising and coming to meet me. "He awoke shortly after lunch bell. And an hour later they received official word from the king about the war. When I sent notice to the Chancellor that Master Claighan was responsive, they came immediately and took him to a war council."

"Among the Masters?"

The Kind Father nodded. "The king has given them an ultimatum. They have three days to decide where the school will stand."

I chewed my lip, my mind racing, but then a thought struck me. I frowned and met the priest's eyes. "Why are you telling me this?"

He nodded to the pack on my back, to the sword on my hip. "Because you look like you're about to do something stupid," he said. "And because all the other students will have heard as much from their fathers. I thought you should be advised. Wait until the Masters make their decision before you make yours."

I held his eyes for a long moment, wondering why Themmichus hadn't told me. And then I knew. I nodded. "It would make no difference," I said. "The Academy is no part of my decision."

I saw the confusion in his eyes, but he didn't press me any further. Instead he spread his hands. "If you will wait in your room, I'll send a message to you when the Master is back. He will be back here."

I hung my head at the certainty in the priest's words. Then I shook my head. "No, thank you, Father." I left his office, took one step back toward the gates, and hesitated. I turned and headed the other way.

North of the Dormitory stood the sprawling Halls of Learning. Beyond that, in a courtyard that made a garden maze of long, low reflecting pools, stood a tower that rose seven floors above the earth. It cast a shadow across all the Academy, and at its top hung the ancient, eldritch bell that chimed the time for all the FirstKing's lands.

This was the Tower of the Masters. In six months at the Academy I had never set foot in it. I went there now. The doors of the tower were heavy oak, stained to black with age, and they swung open without a sound, without a touch, as soon as I approached. The tower had no windows, but firelight sculpted of magic traced in elegant scroll along the stone walls, a hand's breadth beneath the ceiling.

A small sitting room stood just inside the outer door, and beyond it a corridor three paces wide that seemed to run in a great circle around the outer edge of the tower. I followed it around to my right, unsure where to go. After a dozen paces I saw a stone staircase on my right climbing up to the higher levels, but the sound of voices dragged me on.

Another ten paces brought me to a pair of great doors on the inner wall. I heard voices beyond. The door was open only a crack, and beyond it I could see another antechamber, another pair of doors ajar, and beyond those must have been the council hall of the Master of the Academy, because I recognized their voices.

All of them, raised in outrage. My time in the Academy had been enough to teach me Leotus's sneering cackle and Alteres's airy wheeze. I heard Bennethis shouting himself hoarse, and the Chancellor calling for order. But it was the cold, heartless voice of Seriphenes that cut through the noise and settled them all to silence.

"Enough," he said. "Claighan, we have heard enough of your objections! Hold your tongue or we'll be forced to convene a council without you."

The Chancellor mumbled an objection to that, but the Master pressed on. "No, Chancellor. There is a time and place for his foolishness, but there are grave questions at stake here. We cannot be diverted by dragon stories when there is war on our doorstep."

"There is something worse than war," Claighan said. Though it was cracked with strain, I still heard dark foreboding in the old wizard's words. I took a slow step closer, quiet as I could, and prayed no one wandered down these halls to catch me spying.

Claighan stopped to catch a breath, and then he pushed on. "The dragons are waking. A gathering of forces is foolishness. I do not care about the politics. If the king puts ten thousand strong men in one place an elder red will burn them all to ash before the day is done. Consider the cost to our nation."

"So you vote against the king?" Seriphenes asked, and there was surprise in his voice.

"I vote for reasoning with the king," Claighan said. "He must be diverted from this action."

Seriphenes snorted in laughter, and I heard other chuckles within the council room. I pressed right up against the antechamber's outer door, though I didn't dare enter for fear of making some noise.

"That has served you well in your prior efforts," Leotus sneered. "Will you go tell the king to overlook a rebellion in his lands?"

"In our lands," Seriphenes said. "Pollix is a day's ride from here. Claighan's bedtime stories aside, we should be better served if the king did not bring his chaos to our door."

"But it is already decided," the Chancellor said. "Read the missive. The only question before us is whether we answer his summons or stand in defiance."

"We cannot war with the crown," Alteres wailed.

"Nor should we war with our countrymen," Seriphenes said firmly. "I do not believe the king will send his armies against us, no matter what we choose."

There was silence for a moment, then the Chancellor sighed. "We can claim neutrality in this. The king will not like it, but I suspect you are right, Seriphenes. He is unlikely to attack us directly."

Claighan grunted. "That is not enough. We cannot afford to let him draw this army."

"Be still!" Seriphenes shouted, and I flinched in spite of myself. I knew the outburst far too well. "Who could stop this king from calling this army? And what reason could we give him? That a Master he has despised anticipates some dark apocalypse? Have you even seen a dragon?"

"I have seen a dragon," Claighan said, and a stunned silence fell in the room. There was a rustle of movement, and Claighan said, "On our doorstep, as you say."

"I am not interested in the drakes that play in the forested hills around far Cara," Seriphenes said. He tried to make it cutting, but he faltered.

There was grim confidence in Claighan's answer. "I do not ask you to be. I ask you to consider the threat of an adult black no more than a day's ride from here."

"Impossible," Leotus cried, but Seriphenes did not answer.

Alteres spoke up. "I had heard rumors," he said. "From out of Pollix. In the Sorcerer's Stand?"

"Indeed," Claighan said. "I have seen it with my own eyes. It has a summer lair among the cliffs at the heart of the woods. And there are more. I've found signs of them among the hill breaks to the west, and in the highlands to our east. There are new stories of serpent strikes among the sailors of the channel, and I have stood in a shadow dark as night while an elder blue flew above me beneath the Drakespines to the north."

"Impossible," Leotus said again, but his voice quavered now. My own pulse raced, and I felt a weakness in my arms and shoulders. There had always been dragons in the histories and stories. The king's own father had killed a drake with his own hands before rising to the throne. But never so many as Claighan described. Never all at once.

"I lay no stock in the stories of fishermen," Seriphenes said, dismissive. "Nor in the tales highlanders tell. None of our histories describe any manner of dragon habitat there. The Drakespines, perhaps. It is a remote range, far from any significant populations. An ideal place for an elder to take refuge through the long years."

"And the Sorcerer's Stand?" Alteres asked. "You have an answer for that?"

"I have an answer," Seriphenes said, and Daven heard dark victory in his voice.

"No," Claighan said, his voice barely more than whisper.

"We shall settle it ourselves," Seriphenes said. "Three answers in a single action."

"No," Claighan said. "Don't be a fool. This is no hatchling drake—"

"I don't care if it's an elder legend!" Seriphenes said. "We are the Academy of Wizardry. We are the greatest power in this land. I'm tired of you slandering our power over guesswork and lies."

"The histories are clear," Claighan said. "Dragons do not obey our workings. We may not be able to harm them at all. That's why we must—" Seriphenes cut him off.

"I have seen the power in the Chancellor's hand," Seriphenes said. "I have seen my own terrible strength. Even yours, Claighan, is sufficient to make armies tremble. Tell me not of the histories. Did the wizards of yore have an Academy such as this to train them? We have unlocked mysteries and powers man has never known before. We can face a single scaled monster."

"You are a fool," Claighan said. "And soon to be a dead one."

"Claighan!" the Chancellor said, softly chiding, but Seriphenes cut over him.

"Leave him be," he said. "He is broken and sick with delirium. He speaks out of a melancholy. Does anyone else here truly believe we, combined, cannot answer the threat of a dragon?"

No one spoke. Claighan grunted, but he couldn't seem to find the strength to argue anymore. When Seriphenes spoke again, his words dripped with satisfaction. "Then, as I said, three answers in one. We shall settle Claighan's nonsense with incontrovertible evidence. We shall exterminate the threat of a dragon on our doorstep. And we shall demonstrate the power of the Academy to the king, before we stand in defiance of him. We shall hang the black beast's head above our gates, and let the king find soldiers willing to face a force capable of that action."

Silence fell on the room. After a time, Alteres spoke up. "Are you all agreed, then? Would you really stand in defiance of the king?"

"We will," Seriphenes said, before anyone else could answer. "We are the Masters of the Academy. Who is a king to call us like hounds to heel?"

No one answered that. I heard Claighan give a weary sigh, but he'd lost the strength to fight them. I stood there, stunned, leaning against the wall beside the open door.

And then a hand like tanned leather closed around the edge of the door inches from my ear. I startled back a step as the door swung silently open and a figure slipped through it. He was furtive, and I knew in an instant that he, too, had been eavesdropping on the war council, from within the antechamber. Likely he'd been the one who left the door cracked so I could listen in.

And I knew immediately why. He turned to me, and though I knew nothing of him but the shape of his wretched shadow against a wall, I knew him. He stank of sour sweat and cheap beer. His fine clothes were threadbare and grass-stained, and his long cloak showed the tatter of heavy use. His skin, too, was rough and sun-scorched, his features thin, and his deep-set eyes were dark with weariness and worry.

They fixed on me, and I expected him to shout. I expected him to run. I fumbled clumsily for my sword, stumbled one step back, but he flew to me in an instant. The traitor Lareth clapped one strong, stinking hand over my mouth. He slammed the other on my right wrist, trapping my sword in its scabbard, and hissed a word of power.

Empty air rained on me like the blows of a Guardsman's club. They cracked down on my shoulders and crashed against the backs of my knees, driving me down to the ground. And as I went the wizard went with me, stinking hand still clamped over my mouth. When I was flat on my back, he whispered another word and the crushing blows subsided.

He stooped there beside me, resting lightly on his heels. Then he threw one glance back toward the council hall. The Masters still muttered among themselves beyond the cracked door. Even as the thought crossed my mind the rebel wizard pulled a sturdy little work knife from his belt and pressed its tip into the soft skin beneath my chin. He pressed until the point bit against my flesh, then raised both eyebrows and removed his hand.

The Masters still lingered in their council hall. I knew I could cry out and bring them here—and he could slit my throat and disappear in an instant. So I held my tongue, trembling with fear and fury, and he watched my eyes with his head half-turned, as though he were also listening to the murmur in the other room.

After a moment he leaned closer. "Who are you?"

"Just a student at the Academy," I said.

His head twitched, and he frowned at me for a moment. Then I felt the knife tremble lightly against my throat and a cruel smile curved his lips. "Who knows you are here?"

I thought fast, closed my eyes for a heartbeat, and then looked up at him. "The Kind Father sent me," I said. "And I told the Chancellor's apprentice I would be here. And Master Claighan expected me."

"Ah," he said, disappointed, and then a moment later. "Ah. You are Claighan's boy."

I said nothing, but he saw confirmation somewhere in my expression. He grinned. "The things I'll be allowed to do to you...."

"You have done enough," I said. I tasted the bitterness in the words, and Lareth seemed to take great joy in it.

He hissed, "Tell me about it."

I wanted to spit at him. I wanted to hit him. I wanted to cry out, but I didn't dare. He rocked on his heels above me and pulled the knife away to rest his elbows on his knees. He was still close enough to kill me with one motion, but I saw my chance now. Delight at my predicament shone in his eyes. I remembered him beating Claighan for fun. He was doing the same thing now. He wanted to hear my pain, and I could use that. If I could keep him distracted long enough the Masters would find him on their own. And even Seriphenes could not protect this one if he were caught by the other Masters.

So I let my shoulders fall, let my very real frustration and anger show in my eyes. "You have personally cost me everything." I said. His eyes danced with pleasure. I shook my head. "Your treachery robbed me of the protection of the king."

Lareth gave me an unapologetic shrug. "A matter of unfortunate timing," he said. "I didn't even know you."

"That has made me a wanted murderer," I said, letting fear tremble in my voice. "And made my only patron a traitor still on his deathbed."

Lareth waved it away. "The old man had to go sometime."

I sat up, heaving my shoulders off the floor, and only stopped from striking him when he pressed the knife close again and I felt it break the soft flesh on my throat. He raised both eyebrows in threat and I sank back. I raised a hand to stop the trickle of blood, and he allowed it.

I looked away. "You've harmed far more than me," I said. "You've brought the whole nation to the brink of war."

"No," Lareth said. "The duke brought the nation to the brink of war. The king, in his arrogant pride, has pushed it over. And I, by the strength of my hand, shall settle the matter more swiftly than could otherwise be done."

"By your hand?" I sneered. "How will you settle the matter?"

His eyes shone. A smile of pure delight lit his face. He leaned close to whisper to me, pressing the knife's edge against the soft skin of my throat as he did. "I am going to kill the king. He sends his soldiers now, but they will not defeat us. They will not even find us. And when in time he comes in person, he will reclaim the city of Tirah. The brave victor again."

His breath flashed hot against my ear. I peered past his stringy hair, staring hard at the door to the council chambers, praying for them to come find us here.

Then Lareth drove those thoughts from my mind. "And then I will kill him. On the road to Tirah, surrounded by ten thousand of his men, I will strike him down and end this war." He pulled back, searching my eyes for the awe he knew would be there.

But there was no awe. There was only fear, desperation. This man would kill the king. That would not end the war, that would start an age of conflict like this nation had never known. I closed my eyes. I took a breath. And then I hit him.

From my place on the ground I threw a punch hard at his jaw, moving my other arm to push away at the knife against my throat. His shock saved my life, and gained me enough time to shout, "Claighan! Lhorus! Seriphenes!"

He snarled and fell forward against me again, and this time I knew he would kill me. I couldn't let him get away with that. I struggled, digging fingers hard into the wrist of his knife hand and clawing at his face with the other, but he didn't try to press the attack. Instead he caught a breath, and spoke a word. My world became pain.

I felt the traveling spin around me, violent and fast, threads sharp as knives and strong as steel snapping down against my flesh in all directions, then twisting tight. Squeezing. My vision faded to darkness. Then bursts of colored light flashed behind my eyes. And then it was over.

I ended up lying on my back, gasping for air. He stood over me, apparently unaffected, and pressed a boot down hard on my right wrist, pinning it to the polished wooden boards of a well-made floor. I felt my vision swim once more, watched unnatural colors wash in and out, and then at last the world settled back to normal. I found myself staring up at the side of a heavy office desk, two high-backed, narrow chairs off to one side, and a framed map of the Old Kingdoms hanging on the wall beside the door. I was in a study.

It wasn't Lareth's place. Not given his ragged clothes and dirty hair. This room belonged to someone else. From the looks of it, to someone of wealth and power. Someone of advanced education. And then a sudden understanding burned new anger into my heart. He hadn't bothered to take me away at all.

I felt the snarl twist my lips, and he laughed when he saw it. I ignored him, though. My right wrist was trapped, but I was no child. I spun at the waist, throwing my shoulders up off the ground and driving my left fist hard toward the side of his right knee. It might have been a crippling blow for all the ferocious strength I threw behind it.

But he spoke a word and danced back, and a web of magic air fell across me like a cast-iron blanket. It slammed me back against the floor and drove the breath from my lungs. Then he stepped forward and, pinned though I was, he brought his booted heel down hard on my right wrist once again. I screamed at the pain, but his weave of air stole even the expression of my agony from me. The wizard laughed.

And then the door flew open behind him. Seriphenes stalked in, eyes blazing. He threw the door shut and fixed a hard gaze on the wizard Lareth. "Give me three good reasons not to burn you to the ground."

Lareth grinned, lazy and delighted, and twisted his heel against my wrist. "First," he said, "for love of a prized and cherished pupil. Second, for your own reticence to do what must be done. That stays your hand even as it makes me a terribly valuable asset to you."

Seriphenes's eyes stayed on Lareth, dark and demanding, and the traitor shrugged. "And third," Lareth said, "for apprehending your enemy's agent, spying on his betters."

The Master's eyes widened. Then they narrowed. They swung down to fix on me. Still, he spoke to Lareth. "You are a fool. A reckless, dangerous, terrible fool. You made yourself known to this one—"

"Easily enough remedied," Lareth said.

"No. Not without raising questions. He draws too much attention, wherever he goes."

"But look at him!" Lareth said. "He's packed for traveling. Let me take him back to my camp. Everyone here can think he has run away to join the war, and I can provide my unschooled soldiers an impromptu lecture on human anatomy."

Seriphenes made an irritated sound and shook his head. "No. No, that would not do. I must handle this myself." He considered me, eyes still narrow, then shook his head again. "Why have you come here, Lareth?"

"I had to know the decision of the war council."

"You did not trust me?" Seriphenes demanded.

"I honestly did not believe. Four good men of the king's. Five, with that old bastard suddenly awake. And somehow you carried a unanimous vote to defy him."

"They are easily swayed," Seriphenes said. His eyes lingered on me, and he frowned. "You have not stopped his hearing?"

Lareth shrugged. "I was still teasing him when you arrived."

Seriphenes considered me for a moment, and then the breath escaped him in a sound of regret. "It matters little, I suppose. He knows too much now."

Lareth gave a little bow. "Precisely why you should let me dispose of him, Master."

"No. I have other hands than yours, Lareth. And an opportunity has just presented itself."

Lareth frowned. Understanding showed on his face just as it came to me, too. "The dragon?"

"Four problems, now," Seriphenes said. "But it must be now. Keep him for an hour, locked up tight, and then let him go. And get out of here."

"What? We won't be sharing dinner?"

Seriphenes growled low in his throat. "You're a reckless fool," he said. "And someday it will get you very dead. Now more than ever, you must stay away from the Academy. I could not protect you if you had been caught."

He gestured down at me, turning it into a flourish. "But my master, I can protect me. See how well I've done?"

"Against a shepherd who cannot make a seeming of moonlight to save his soul?" Seriphenes snorted. "By all means, take pride in that. I've also heard your soldiers very nearly won an altercation with a loose formation of wild hogs. You're quite the tactical genius."

"Domesticated hogs, as it happens," Lareth said. His smile never slipped. "We lost three good men that day."

Seriphenes headed to the door, but he stopped before he opened it. He looked back at me, and I saw regret in his eyes. "Hold him," he said. "Do not scar him. He must be seen in public before the ruse is truly done."

And then he left, and Lareth turned his attention back to me. It is remarkable how much pain a wizard can cause without leaving the slightest scar.