Anders laughed. ‘Don’t try to rile me, Selik. I am proud of my college. And I am proud of the force I command here, small though it is. There may be conflict between the colleges at the moment but not here. We are, and ever will be, mindful of the Wesmen threat and we also police the trails north and south of here.’
‘Conflict? What are they telling you, Anders? Let me guess. The Xeteskian and Dordovan contingents had to be recalled but they have failed to explain why, am I right? I’d hate you to have to test their commitment right now.’
Anders stepped forward and ushered Selik away from the gates to the compound.
‘Let me advise you of a couple of things, Selik. First, the four colleges all hold to the pledge to supply a considerable force should there be any attempted incursion. I and my fifty charges are here to maintain defences, wards and to keep up trails, food and water supplies.
‘Second, I have mages inside that compound who I rate as friends. They will be very unhappy you are here even for a night but very happy that you are travelling south in the morning. I have no idea why you’re going and I don’t care as long as you leave at first light,’ he said, coming to a halt. ‘But if Blackthorne is your intended destination, I have no doubt he will be even less accommodating. He, like me, believes in both mages and magic.’
‘I’ll bear your warning in mind,’ said Selik.
‘I sincerely hope not,’ said Anders. ‘Now, I don’t expect to see you at my gates ever again. Only two of your men will collect water at a time, and they will ask permission at the gates before entering. And should any of my men or mages be abused verbally or physically by any of your men, I will seek you out and kill you myself. How do those rules sound to you?’
‘Whatever makes you happy, Commander. Good day. We will not speak again.’
Selik walked on, not sparing Anders another glance. He picked up his pace as he strode down into the town, noting the temporary picketing of horses and the boards levered off wrecked buildings to fuel fires. He snapped his fingers at a nearby Black Wing whose name escaped him. No more than a thug, the man, with thick neck and bald head covered in tattoos, ambled across, a stalk of grass hanging from his mouth.
‘Where is Devun?’
The man shrugged and pointed. ‘In the old inn, I think.’
‘See that Edman and Callom join us there immediately. And then start ferrying water, two men at a time, from the compound. And keep your mouth shut. They may be college scum but we need them until we get back, understand?’
The man looked at him with sullen eyes but nodded. ‘Yes, Captain.’
‘Then get on with it.’
Selik marched to the inn, identifiable only because of the brace on which the sign had once hung. Inside, he found Devun and Edman talking with another two. They were among a litter of splintered timbers but had found a serviceable table and bench.
‘You two, get out of here. See to your horses and wait for orders,’ said Selik, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder. ‘And if you see Callom, get him in here quickly.’
He watched them until they disappeared through the door out to the street.
‘Right. Where’s the mage?’
‘Callom’s got him. We’re still working on him,’ said Devun. ‘Gods, but he’s a tough bastard.’
‘Keep going. I want him cracked by the morning or his corpse in the ground.’
‘Yes, Captain,’ said Edman, a Black Wing veteran; tall, well built with dark brown hair and a bushy beard flecked with grey.
‘Right, I’ve learned two things. First, the garrison here is small but has reasonable mage strength. However, it is isolated. Second, Blackthorne is definitely harbouring mages.
‘Things need to move fast now. It’s eight days’ ride to Blackthorne and I’ll be leaving before dawn tomorrow. Give it half a day to talk to the Baron and scout the area and another eight days back and you have your timescale.’
‘Is it worth visiting Blackthorne, sir? After all, he won’t join us,’ said Edman.
‘I have to know the threat he poses to us, and I have to canvass opinion of our crusade in the outlying villages. Yes, it’s worth it. And I have to try to convert him before declaring him an enemy. Think if I could persuade him against his beliefs.’
‘And the rest of the plan still holds?’ asked Edman.
‘Yes. You and Callom each pick five good men. Mobilise support. Bring supply. Bring it here. I want the first true Balaians here by the time the garrison is cleared. I can give you a maximum of twenty days. Think you can do that?’
‘Yes, sir.’ Edman nodded. ‘And what about the garrison?’
‘Leave it to me. Don’t worry. By the time you get back, we’ll be in charge of Understone. Now pick your men, brief Callom when you see him, since he’s obviously otherwise engaged now, and get some rest. You’re leaving before me.’
Edman nodded and trotted out of the inn. Selik turned to Devun and breathed out long.
‘Any alcohol in here?’
‘No, sir.’ Devun smiled. ‘We’ve looked.’
‘Cellars?’
‘Empty.’
‘Dammit.’ Selik sat down heavily on the bench, which creaked alarmingly.
‘Are you worried, Captain?’
Selik looked up into Devun’s eyes and shook his head. ‘Not really. But this is our best chance to bring down the colleges and I can’t afford it to go wrong. We’ve got to crack that mage, make sure he takes our message. Their divisions need deepening.’
‘I’ll see what I can do, Captain.’ Devun cracked his knuckles for effect.
‘You’re a good man, Devun,’ said Selik. ‘I’m glad you’re with me. The sacrifices are many on the path to righteousness. Get to it.’
Devun beamed, saluted and left.
Selik smiled at his retreating back.
Heryst, Lord Elder Mage of Lystern, slapped his riding gloves down on the table in the great hall of the college’s vast tower complex and poured himself a large goblet of wine. He stared around at the tapestries of his forerunners while he calmed himself and waited for the council.
Galloping through the quiet streets of Lystern in the early hours of the morning on the last day of his ride from Dordover, Heryst had felt the anger redouble in him. This city was dragging itself back from the brink of famine. Its people had worked hard and believed in the rationing that had kept them alive. They had taken in refugees by the thousand, gone without to do so, and still there had been little disorder.
The streets were clean, the markets still bought and sold, trade was just beginning to show some recovery and he had seen real optimism in the faces of those he had passed.
And now it was being threatened. Pointlessly threatened.
Draining his goblet, he poured more, enjoying the taste of the wine so early in the day, feeling it warming his mind and easing his frayed temper. He walked to one of the great arched windows and looked down over his college.
The great hall sat at the top of the wide low tower that was the centre of Lysternan magic. Only forty feet high, with a plain tiled conical roof, it had a diameter three times its height and an intricate beam system bound by magic that kept the roof from collapsing. Beneath the great hall, ceremonial chambers, lecture theatres and laboratories were dug deep into the earth surrounding the Heart of the college.
Like the spokes of a wheel, seven stone corridors spread from the tower to an outer circle of offices and classrooms, and between the corridors were seven stunning gardens, places of contemplation reserved for the senior mages of the college. Orchards, shrubberies, rock gardens, pools and fantastic arrays of flowers; the mood of the mage and the season dictated where one might be found walking or sitting.
Linked to the outer circle, arcs of buildings spread hundreds of yards in all directions: the library, refectories, cold room, mana bowl, long rooms and chambers of those resident. Only Heryst himself had his rooms and offices in the tower. All built to a focused design, Lysternan magic found power in the geometry of its buildings, their precise architecture and the angles of walls and roofs. Heryst didn’t claim to know a great deal about the origins of the knowledge, he only knew he was not going to let it be torn apart.