In Chanthed, Karan checked Jergoe into a stable and trudged up the street to the markets, where she bought a sweet bun and picked pieces off it as she walked. Her burning drive to get here had been replaced by panicky despair. How could she hope to rescue Llian from the most powerful man in the land?

Her head was aching. She took off her broad-brimmed hat, unbound her hair and shook it out. Someone tugged on it and she whirled, thinking it was a mischievous child, and was confronted by a beaming young woman her own height. She was thin with a long plain face and short platinum-coloured hair. Karan blinked at her for a few seconds before recognising the child she had been the last time they had met, a dozen years ago. Lilis, a street urchin then, had helped Llian escape from Thurkad and Karan would always think kindly of her for it.

“Lilis! What a coincidence meeting you here.”

“Hardly. We’re here for the meeting. Aren’t you?”

“What meeting?”

“Of our allies – Nadiril, Shand, Tallia, Yggur…”

“Oh yes, Tallia did mention a meeting, weeks ago. I’m glad Nadiril’s here. If anyone knows where the summon stone is —”

“He hasn’t heard of it,” said Lilis. “Tallia already asked.”

“Oh!” said Karan, deflated. “But it’s so good to see you. You look…”

“Like a future librarian, I hope.” Lilis studied her anxiously. “I’m so sorry about Llian.”

Something burst inside Karan. “He’s not dead?”

“I meant the murder charge,” said Lilis. “Obviously he’s been framed.”

“By Snoat. He’s got Llian in Pem-Y-Rum,” said Karan, low-voiced. “And Snoat hates Zain.”

“Shh!” Lilis drew Karan into a side street. “He’s got spies everywhere. And I have to tell you, Shand isn’t happy with Llian.”

“You just said he was framed!”

“It’s what Shand says he did beforehand that’s the problem.”

“What?” said Karan.

Lilis did not reply, but took her to a large but ramshackle timber house in a tree-lined street. Karan spent the time fretting. Yggur was a difficult man, and even when they had been allies years ago they had not got on. She was not looking forward to seeing him again.

They went through a series of connecting chambers of varying sizes and shapes. There was no hall, and rooms appeared to have been added randomly as the need arose. The owners must have grown wealthier over time though, for the rooms towards the back were larger and grander.

In a square high-ceilinged chamber that looked out on a stable and an overgrown rear yard, Tallia sat wrapped in blankets, her chair pulled close to a rusty iron firebox in the centre of the room. She was thinner than Karan had ever seen her, and shivering though the room was warm.

“I thought you were better,” said Karan.

Tallia tried to smile but could only manage a spasm. “Infection keeps coming back. I’ve never been so weak.”

“I’d hoped you could…” Karan stopped herself.

“What?” said Tallia.

“I don’t want to add to your burdens.”

“A Magister has to carry the burden, whatever it is.”

“I’d hoped you might help me… rescue Llian.”

Tallia mouth spasmed again. “If I can.”

The back door opened and a very tall man entered, limping on his right leg. His hair was long and black as crow feathers; frosty eyes were set in deep sockets under jutting black eyebrows, and his face was all hard planes and sharp angles. He saw Karan, missed a step, gave her a jerky nod and continued across to the far side of the room, where he sat in a corner, his head lowered.

Karan stared after him. Knowing about Yggur’s breakdown, she had not expected much from him, though surely some recognition that they were in this together was in order.

Another man entered. He was almost as tall, but ancient and withered to strips of muscle and sinew stretched over a collection of clicking bones. His bald head was a dome and his eyes were clouded, though a spark lit in them when he saw Karan standing there. He smiled and took her hands in his.

“Very pleased to see you, my dear,” said Nadiril, the Librarian of the Great Library at Zile. “Ah, but Llian. Not good at all.”

Nadiril always looked as though he was clinging to the underside of death’s trapdoor, but he was a kindly man who had been good to her and Llian in the past. She felt better for knowing he was here.

Shand followed, grim of face, and glowered when he saw her. What was the matter? What had Llian done?

“So,” said Tallia, looking around the room. “Is this – my apologies – all we have to lead the fightback?”

Karan studied them. Nadiril, an old man who spent his time studying books. Shand, who had renounced most of his powers after suffering a terrible loss and a great rejection. Yggur, a great but mentally unstable mancer who wanted to hide from the world. Tallia, ill and desperate to go home to Crandor. Lilis, who might become a worthy successor to Nadiril, but was young and inexperienced and no fighter. And herself, unable to focus on anything but saving her family.

“Malien is coming with some of her people,” said Shand, “though she’ll be weeks yet. And we may get some help from the Faellem.”

“The world will be lost long before they get here from Mirrilladell,” rumbled Yggur.

“After what Llian’s done, it’s probably lost already,” said Shand.

“What has he done?” said Karan.

“Wistan was going to make Llian Master of the College. Next thing we know, Wistan is dead, apparently by Llian’s hand.”

“That’s a stinking lie! And if you believe it, you’re an even bigger fool than you look.”

“Karan, please,” said Nadiril. “No one’s made any accusations.”

“I’m making one,” said Shand. “Llian came here to support Thandiwe, and she would have made a fine, strong master.” His voice rose. “Instead, he voted for Basible Norp, Snoat’s lackey! Now Snoat controls the college, its wealth and its secrets – and that’s not the worst.”

Karan was shocked speechless. Why would Llian come all this way, at such cost, then vote for Snoat’s man against Thandiwe?

“What is the worst?” she croaked.

“Wistan gave Llian his dirt book and told him to protect it with his life. But it’s clear from the number of our supporters who’ve been blackmailed, killed or have disappeared in the past few days, that Snoat has it. Wistan protected it for forty years, and within three days – three days – of Llian taking it, it was in Snoat’s hands.”

Ever so faintly, Karan heard the drumming. Shand winced.

“Llian loathes Snoat,” Karan said furiously. “He stole Llian’s manuscript.”

“Maybe Llian has done a deal with him to get it back.”

“Snoat hates the Zain,” Karan said coldly, “almost as much as you do, you bigoted old bastard!”

“It wouldn’t stop Snoat doing a deal. And where is Llian now, Karan?”

“He… he’s in Pem-Y-Rum,” Karan whispered. “He’s Snoat’s prisoner.”

“My information is he went willingly, with Thandiwe, in Snoat’s own coach. Llian is probably blabbing our secrets right now.”

“That’s a lie! Snoat’s going to have Llian killed.” Her voice cracked. “Ragred said so.”

“Who the hell is Ragred?”

Karan bared her bruised throat. “He was Snoat’s man. He did this to me yesterday – before the Whelm killed him.”

There was a long silence. “You’d better tell us about it,” said Nadiril.

Karan told the story. At the end, when everyone started to speak at once, Nadiril held up a withered hand.

“Let’s not do the enemy’s work for him. And Shand, please refrain from making unsubstantiated accusations.”

“What Karan did to Maigraith isn’t unsubstantiated,” snapped Shand. “Nor is what her ancestors did up at Carcharon, is it, Karan?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Karan lied. This was getting dangerous.

“I think you do,” said Nadiril. “We must know what’s going on, Karan.”

Karan told them about Maigraith’s visit with Julken, her obsession revealed by the drumming at the Black Lake, and how, when there was no other option, Karan had dosed her with hrux.

“I heard her psychic cries and went looking for her,” said Shand. “And I found blood further up the range towards Carcharon. If she’s dead,” he said harshly, “Karan killed her!”

This hurt, coming from someone she had thought of as a friend. “I will do whatever it takes to protect my daughter. Anyway, Maigraith isn’t dead.”

“How do you know?” said Tallia.

Karan, afraid they would ask her to prove it, said nothing.

Tallia clutched at her injured shoulder. “If we’re going to be at each others’ throats from the beginning, we might as well stop this right now and wait for the Merdrun to kill us all.” She looked pointedly at Karan. “Please set Shand’s mind at rest.”

“The very first time Maigraith used me,” Karan said icily, “she forced me to create a link between us so she could get into Fiz Gorgo and steal the Mirror of Aachan from Yggur.”

Yggur scowled. “Which is where it all began.”

“It began with Shuthdar’s Golden Flute, thousands of years before that,” said Nadiril, “and will go on for thousands of years after we’re gone.”

“A trace of my link still exists,” said Karan. “If Maigraith were dead, it would be gone.”

“Then open the link,” said Tallia. “Show Shand.”

“What if it reveals me to her? She’s out of her mind.”

“If you want our help…” Shand said remorselessly.

Why was he so changed, so cold? Could the drumming be affecting him? Surely not Shand. But if she did not cooperate they would never help her.

Karan closed her eyes, settled her hands in her lap and rifled through her memories for the long-buried link to Maigraith. She teased it up to the surface and opened it gingerly. The drumming roared through her mind.

Shand clutched his temples. “Ah, my head!”

Karan swayed, opened her eyes, and the pain faded a little. “She’s in a cave. Or underground.”

“Where?”

“Can’t tell.”

She felt a psychic pressure, like trying to hold a door closed while someone far stronger was determined to force it open. Pain rippled through her skull as though the bone was being prised apart, then the drumming went boom-boom, boom-boom-boom.

There was a burst of brilliant light, like a lantern being thrust into her face. A pair of indigo and carmine eyes were blazing into her own, then Maigraith forced the door open.

The link set like a solid white beam between them and she shrieked, “I’ll get you for this, Karan! Llian is a dead man. And you’ll never see your daughter again.”

With all the strength she had left, Karan forced the rage back. Maigraith cried out. Karan snapped the link, tore it out by the roots, then aftersickness overcame her and she toppled and struck her head on the iron firebox.

She roused, her head throbbing worse than before. Lilis was dabbing at her forehead with a handkerchief spotted with blood. The others were all around her: Nadiril, Tallia and Shand, his face now a mixture of anxiety and guilt. Yggur had not moved.

“I’m sorry,” said Shand, whose tanned face had a grey tinge. “Maigraith’s… not herself.”

There had been such rage in her eyes. Had Karan created her own nemesis?

“Where’s Sulien?” Shand said suddenly.

“I sent her away with Idlis and Yetchah. They went south to Shazabba and I don’t know which way.”

Shand’s anger flared again. “To stop us from searching her mind!”

“I sent her away to protect her from the magiz.”

“Whose side are you on, Karan?”

“She doesn’t know the Merdrun’s weakness.”

“How the hell would you know?”

“Because I asked her… and looked into her mind.”

“Karan, I’m disappointed,” said Nadiril. “We have to identify their only weakness.”

“No one is using deadly mind spells on my daughter,” she said flatly.

“But you’ve just put her in danger,” Yggur said quietly. “The Whelm are unreliable – as servants or as friends.”

Karan shivered. They had served him for a very long time, only to betray him when a better master had come along. Had she made a terrible mistake?

“We’ve got to deal with Snoat before we can defend against the Merdrun,” said Nadiril.

“What’s the plan?” said Tallia.

“Do what Malien asked in her letter to Shand. Kill Snoat, and find and destroy the summon stone. And in case that fails, raise an army to hold the Merdrun back.”

“How?” said Karan.

“You don’t need to know. Walls have ears, Karan.”

“What does Snoat want, anyway?” said Lilis.

“He’s a power-hungry narcissist. He sees the world as his personal toy box, to use, plunder or destroy at whim.”

“How do you know?”

“I have sourc— I just do,” Nadiril amended hastily.