The pale liquid began to simmer. A fine ring of bubbles frothed at the edge of the pot. They hissed when Jemeryl dislodged them with an oversized wooden spatula, before pushing the pot to a cooler spot at the rear of the stove. At one side, Vine knelt to open the fire-hatch. Her face looked demonic in the red light, scowling at the heat as she fed more split logs into the fire. Vine shut the door with a clang and stood up.

Neame bustled over from the other side of the room. "How's everything going?" She carried on without waiting for an answer. "I've got to go upstairs. I won't be long. I've left a list of the other compounds we need. If you could get them ready? And be careful, some are very dangerous if mishandled."

Neame headed through the doorway. Her footsteps clipped along the corridor outside and up the stairs at the end.

"Bet she just wants a break from the heat." Vine said once the sound had faded.

Jemeryl cast a baleful glare at the massive cast-iron stove - both the source of the heat and the magic-disrupting epicentre that prevented them doing anything to alleviate it. The room was like a bake-house. Being in the cellar under the dispensary did not help the stifling temperature. There was a low vaulted ceiling, two central support pillars, and no windows. Oil lamps provided lighting. It was a claustrophobic space - generally referred to as Neame's Kitchen, the place where potions for the hospital were prepared.

Neame was in charge of this work, so the cellar was the only part of the dispensary where order prevailed. The bottles and boxes were arranged on shelves. Nothing apart from items in use was on the wooden bench that filled one wall of the room. The stove was built into an open chimney on the wall opposite. Apart from this, the only furniture in the room was a small round table and two stools.

Vine picked up Neame's list and went to stand as far as possible from the stove - not that it did much good. The heat was inescapable. Jemeryl could feel sweat trickling through her hair as she peered over Vine's shoulder at the slate.

"It's pretty straightforward. Won't take long." Vine nodded as she spoke.

"If you say so." Jemeryl said with less confidence. Many of the names on the list were unfamiliar to her.

She leaned back against the bench and watched as Vine worked her way along the rows of shelves, picking out an assortment of jars. After a short while Jemeryl asked, "Do you remember telling me Druse was the only sorcerer killed by the plague?"

"Yes."

"Tapley mentioned someone called Aris. Was it me getting confused by the rambling or did she die at the same time?"

"She died, but it wasn't the plague." Vine explained she deposited the jars on the bench. "Here, hand me that flask behind you."

Jemeryl did as asked. She waited until Vine had finished measuring an oily green fluid into the container before continuing with her questions. "So what did she die of?"

"Suicide."

"She killed herself?"

"That's what suicide usually means." Vine said, unperturbed. "She was unstable - putting it mildly. I suppose it shouldn't have been totally unexpected, but it was hard on Erlam. I don't think he's over it even now. They were lovers, you see."

"Oh, that would explain..." Jemeryl paused, in thought.

"What?"

"Nothing much. I was talking to Erlam once and he got a bit prickly. It would make sense if he thought you'd been gossiping about him and Aris."

"Would I do a thing like that?" Vine's tone was all hurt innocence.

"Yes." Jemeryl replied, deadpan.

"Hmmph. Well, you're not here to be ornamental. If you took those bottles over to the stove it would help." Vine pointedly indicated the items in question.

"How close in time did the two deaths take place?" Jemeryl asked, while transferring the bottles to a tray.

"Pretty much the same day, as far as we could tell."

"Were they linked in any way?"

"Must have been a coincidence; they happened over 2000 miles apart. Druse was here in the school and Aris was out travelling in Walderim."

"Walderim!" Jemeryl could not help her voice revealing her surprise.

"It's the strip of land between the Aldrack Mountains and the Western Ocean."

"I know where it is." Carelessly, Jemeryl dumped the tray on the small table by the stove and turned back to Vine, almost tripping over one of the small stools that got in her way. "Whereabouts in Walderim?"

Even as the words left her mouth, Jemeryl knew she was sounding far too eager. Vine's curiosity was easy to attract, and very, very hard to evade. Already a familiar, calculating expression was forming on the gossip's face. Before either of them could ask more questions, they were interrupted by the sound of Neame's returning footsteps on the stairs. In a flurry of activity, the remaining few items were assembled. By the time Neame opened the door, Vine was wiping the bench clean with a wet rag and Jemeryl was at the stove, wooden spatula in hand.

"How's the list going?" Neame asked.

"Just finished, ma'am" Vine gave a last sweep with the rag and went to join Jemeryl at the stove.

Jemeryl glanced up. She could tell the school gossip was puzzling over her interest in Walderim. Vine's lips were slightly open. Her eyes were fixed on the middle distance. Conjecture and speculation were clearly dominating Vine's thoughts - she certainly was not paying attention to where she was walking.

Jemeryl realised the danger a split second too late to give a warning. Vine's knee cracked hard against the stool that had been left in the middle of the floor and her foot caught in the rungs. She staggered sideways, throwing out her hand for support. Her palm landed flat on the tray Jemeryl had left precariously overhanging the edge of the table. The tray flipped up, catapulting its contents into the air, while Vine's balance was completely lost. The table tripped over and Vine stumbled forward, straight towards the hot stove.

There was no time to think. If Vine landed on the stove, she would be badly burnt. The mass of iron was a deep vortex in the paranormal planes. Yet somehow, responding by reflex and making up with force for what the spell lacked in subtlety, Jemeryl summoned the powers of the sixth dimension. Vine was sent flying back across the room and crashing into the bench opposite. She would be bruised, but not seriously injured.

Sharp cracks of breaking glass resounded in the confined space as bottles that had been on the tray hit on the ground. One smashed on the stovetop; the splattered contents hissed furiously over the hotplate and ran down the sides, giving off wispy yellow smoke.

Jemeryl was surrounded by debris. The floor was covered in mingling liquids, powder and shards of glass. Cleaning up would not be fun.

"Jemeryl, move!" Neame shouted.

The order called Jemeryl's attention away from the mess. Neame was standing in the doorway at the back of the room and Vine was scrambling painfully to her feet. Suddenly Jemeryl became aware of the creeping smoke from the stove. What was it that was burning? Without thinking, her hand reached for a cloth to wipe it up, before the emphasis of Neame's words struck her.

She began to take a half step backwards, but too late. The pungent smell of the fumes from the stove had reached her. Acid vapour rasped Jemeryl's throat. A muscle inside her chest contracted convulsively, while the floor seamed to lurch under her feet. She gasped, breathing in more of the poisoned air.

"JEMERYL!"

Grey creeping darkness started to flow before Jemeryl's eyes. Her left knee buckled as the world faded away. Jemeryl knew she was about to pass out. She was drowning in the yellow air. Then, a hand grabbed her by the shoulder and yanked her back from the stove. Fingers twisted in her clothing to get a good grip.

Pulled stumbling backwards, Jemeryl was dragged through the doorway and into the corridor beyond. In a cold detached part of her mind, Jemeryl watched Vine slam the door shut and realised it was Neame who had hauled her from the room. Together, Vine and Neame half-carried her up the stairway. In the fresh air of the ground floor lobby, Jemeryl's head started to clear, but a feeling of nausea grew. Uncontrollable shaking overwhelmed her body.

Neame's face wavered very close. Jemeryl was unable to focus on her.

"I guess you'll survive." There was a forced lightness in Neame's voice that did not hide her relief. "You can sit in Orrago's private study. I'm sure she won't mind you in there for a while, under the circumstances."

Jemeryl felt herself moved about and eventually lowered into a soft chair. Despite the careful treatment, her stomach heaved in a spasm. She was glad to see a bucket placed near at hand. She stared miserably at her knees trying to ignore everything else. There was the sound of talking, then the door closed and Vine came to kneel by her side.

"Neame's gone to sort out the mess downstairs. I'm going to look after you. Don't worry; you're going to be fine. I've got instructions." She squeezed Jemeryl's shoulder. "And I must say you've gone a really interesting shade of green."

Jemeryl closed her eyes, trying to relax and control the tremors that were shaking her. An inner cold was gnawing into her bones. After a while, sitting very still, the convulsive shuddering subsided. She raised her head carefully to look about.

She was sitting in a small, cosy study. A lifetime's accumulation of trinkets and personal effects swamped any academic aspect of the room. A few feet away, dozing in a second cushioned chair was Orrago, with Frog perched like a carved ornament on the armrest. Jemeryl shivered and shifted back in her seat. Even that slight movement increased her feeling of nausea. She pressed the back of her hand against her mouth.

Vine returned with three steaming mugs. "Thought I'd have one myself. I even made a cup for Orrago - if she wakes up. Yours has got extra honey and lime in, plus a few more bits." She passed a mug to Jemeryl, making sure it was held firmly before letting go.

"Thanks." Jemeryl was surprised to hear how raw her voice sounded. She wrapped her hands around the cup, sucking the warmth into her fingers, and took a cautious sip of the tea.

Grinning, Vine plonked herself down on a covered footstool. "You know, I was just as keen as you to get away from the heat downstairs, but I think your escape plan was a little over-dramatic."

"I admit it didn't work out quite the way I intended." Jemeryl's voice was a croak.

Orrago coughed and opened her eyes. "Where's my hat? Has anyone seen my hat? It was here just now. I need my hat, I've got to go to the library to talk to... got to see..." Orrago's voice trailed away in confusion.

Vine went to her side. "It's all right ma'am. You don't need to bother. I've made you some tea."

"Oh, that is good of you, Kally." The ancient sorcerer calmed immediately at the sight of the mug. "It's nice of you and Iralin to visit me."

"It's Vine and Jemeryl, ma'am."

"Where? Who are they?"

"They're us ma'am, Vine and Jemeryl. We had a small accident downstairs and Neame as sent us here to recover." Vine explained slowly.

"Oh, young Neame... yes." Orrago sipped the tea noisily. Becoming more animated she leaned forwards. "You must ask Druse to come see me this afternoon. I have to talk to him about some books he's repairing. He's not supposed to touch..." Orrago broke off and pointed at a shadow on the wall. "Oh, there's my hat. What's happened to the brim?"

The effect of the sweet tea was rapidly calming Jemeryl's nausea and thawing her inner chill. She exchanged a sad smile with Vine - Orrago's grasp of reality was more tenuous than usual.

For a while, the elderly sorcerer rambled on. She then lent over and tapped Vine's arm. "Kally, can you go and find Druse for me?"

"Ma'am, don't you remember, Druse is dead." Vine said softly.

"Don't be silly, of course he's not dead. I talked to him only this morning." A puzzled frown grew on Orrago's face, undermining the conviction of her words. Frog gave a forlorn croak. Abruptly, Orrago put down her half-empty mug and stood up. She scooped Frog from the armrest and dropped him in a deep pocket on her robe. "I've got to go now."

It was anyone's guess what had brought Orrago's jumbled wits to that conclusion, but at the very second she pulled the door open Levannue appeared outside. The door opening in her face without warning clearly startled Levannue. She stared through the doorway, her expression of surprise changing to one of censure as she saw the other two occupants of the room.

"You know you're not supposed to be in here? Did anyone give you permission?" Levannue's voice was sharp as she stepped passed Orrago, into the room.

"Neame sent us here, ma'am." Vine replied.

"Why?"

"I'm keeping an eye on Jemeryl. There was an accident in the cellar and Jemeryl inhaled something nasty."

"Was someone being careless? What happened?"

"I think ma'am, it might be better if you were to ask Neame for the details."

"I'm asking you."

There was an awkward pause before Vine said, in carefully neutral tones, "Neame was in charge. She was also in the room at the time. She's the one to ask."

The senior sorcerer locked eyes with Vine, blatantly trying to intimidate her. There was a long moment of silence.

"As long as the situation is under control." Levannue's tone was too sharp to count as backing down, but she was apparently ready to let the issue drop. Her manner softened noticeably as her attention shifted away from the two juniors. She linked her arm with Orrago, gently steering her out of the room. "Would you like to come to my study now?"

As the door closed behind them, Vine let her breath out in a rush. "And there you have a object lesson in school politics. Levannue will stick her nose into things that don't concern her, and if you're not careful how you deal with it, you can end up on the wrong side of Neame."

"I know. I nearly got caught in the middle when the two of them had a squabble before." Jemeryl said sympathetically.

"When was that?" Vine asked at once.

"In the hospital, a few days ago."

"Was that when the woman with plague was brought in?"

"You heard about it?"

"Of course."

Jemeryl's laughter at the indignation in Vine's voice turned to coughing. The tea had relieved her nausea and chill, but her throat felt as if she had been gargling with broken glass.

Vine stood anxiously by Jemeryl's shoulder until the coughing subsided. "You're sounding like a candidate for the hospital yourself."

"If the plague gets out of hand again we could all end up there." Jemeryl said between gasps.

"It won't do that. We know how to deal with it now." Vine said confidently. She dropped into Orrago's vacated chair. "Just as well - I don't think I could face going through it again."

"It must have been chaos here."

"It was. I was one of the first to get sick. By the time I was better, half the school was confined to bed. I was left to nurse three whole wards on my own, though there were fewer left to nurse each day. Weaker patients didn't stand a chance. Moragar was the most senior sorcerer left standing. He was virtually running the place single-handed. Part of the reason they made him head librarian was that he did such a good job. He went to pieces when Druse died, but by then Levannue had recovered and taken over." Vine shifted back in her chair and took on a deliberately casual manner - always a sign that she was on the hunt of gossip. "We had just about settled down when the news came about Aris killing herself."

Despite the interruption of the accident, Jemeryl had already worked out how to deal with Vine's curiosity.

"It happened out in Walderim, you said." She did her best to act like someone trying to be nonchalant, and failing.

"Yes."

Jemeryl left a significant pause and then asked, "I don't suppose it was near Oshen, in the north?"

"No." Vine shook her head. "It was just outside Scathberg."

"Oh." Jemeryl let her voice sound forlorn.

"You've been there?" Vine asked, as if merely making conversation.

"No."

"You know someone there?"

"Er... not quite..." Jemeryl let her voice drop. "An ex-lover of mine from the Coven... he came from Oshen; he used to talk about the town. We're not together anymore but..."

"You're still keen on him?"

Jemeryl shrugged by way of answer. She pressed her lips together tightly.

"What's he like?"

Jemeryl averted her face for the space of a dozen heartbeats, and then whispered. "I'd rather not talk about him."

"Oh... right... Still feeling sore?"

Jemeryl gave another miserable shrug. Strictly speaking, she hadn't lied, however it was a safe bet that the inferences drawn by Vine would be a complete fiction. Failed love affairs were Vine's favourite topic for gossip. It was almost possible to see the cogs going around in her head as she added up two and two. By now Vine was probably past the conjecture that the affair with the mercenary was started on the rebound and on to more elaborate hypotheses, safely diverted from the truth - just as long as Jemeryl said nothing else to make her doubt the story.

Unfortunately, Jemeryl desperately wanted more answers. Who was with Aris? Exactly where were they? And who came back with what? To ask would only set Vine off on the hunt again. It was frustrating. Vine was certainly the best source of information in the school, but Jemeryl dare not let rumours spread that she had an inexplicable interest in the events in Walderim three years ago.

They were draining the last of their tea when the door opened and Neame returned. Vine stood up. Jemeryl made to do likewise but her knees gave way. She fell back, her legs like rubber.

Neame put a restraining hand on her shoulder. "Stay still. I was going to ask how you were feeling, but I guess I don't need to."

"I'll be all right in a minute." Jemeryl gasped, surprised by the extent of her weakness.

"It'll take a bit longer than a minute. But your aura's recovering nicely. I think you should go to your room and lie down. Vine will get some porters and a stretcher." Neame said authoritatively, allowing no argument.

Jemeryl felt foolishly conspicuous being carried to the juniors sorcerers' quarters, with Vine in attendance, but it was a relief to be laid out on her own bed with the shutters closed.

Once the porters had gone, Jemeryl gave an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry about the accident, I guess it was my fault. I should have been more careful how I put the tray down."

"I should have been looking were I was going." Vine replied. "Don't worry, Neame wasn't angry. Which is just as well. It takes a vast amount of provocation to get in Neame's bad-books but, if ever you do, you're stuck there for life."

Vine shut the door and left Jemeryl alone to ponder that final thought.

Tevi's slow footsteps made a hollow sound on the flagstones. There was no point in rushing on her solitary patrol of the dockside. Dusk was gathering. The horizon was lost in misty purple shroud. Across the bay, a lone fishing craft was returning with its catch. Seagulls gathered on the roofs of warehouses, while high above them the first faint stars dotted the darkening sky.

On reaching the end of the harbour, Tevi balanced on the edge of the quay and looked down. It was low tide. Water slopped against the pockmarked stones of the harbour wall, twenty feet below. Further along the shoreline, away from the deepwater harbour, banks of sand and shingle broke the surface of the waves, hissing as the surf sucked over them.

Tevi turned and strolled back along the quay, passing the dark hulks of moored ships lining the waterfront. There was little for her to do. All the ships currently docked had been checked and, with low tide, nothing could move for a couple of hours. The customs officers on duty were responsible solely for ensuring nothing was smuggled aboard and limiting the havoc caused by gangs of drunken sailors rejoining their boats after sampling the pleasures of the town.

One such group was assembling on the foredeck of the nearest ship. The sailors talked and laughed among themselves. They were currently well-behaved; the night had not yet really started. Most were reasonably sober, although a second outing to Ekranos would undoubtedly change that.

As Tevi passed by, one of the sailors leant over the railing. "Hey. Officer. I've got some really unusual merchandise here you might like to inspect personally." Grasping the rigging, the sailor leapt onto the rail and posed provocatively, the innuendo clear.

Tevi looked up at the sailor and smiled; she was already well accustomed to the good-natured verbal sparring of the docks. "If it's what I think, then it's readily available in town and doesn't require customs inspection. Unless of course, it's malfunctioning and might create a public nuisance."

"Would you like to come below decks and help me test it out?"

"You don't need me. I'm sure you've had plenty of practise testing it out on your own."

Unperturbed at coming second in the verbal duel, the sailor joined in the general laughter, before jumping back onto the deck to join her companions.

Tevi's patrol took her further along the harbour, until she reached a gap between the moored ships. She paused and looked along the quay. The group from the ship was heading off towards the town, in search of an evening's entertainment, and maybe even someone to help test the sailor's merchandise - at a price. Tevi shook her head in bemusement. She had grown accustomed to money on the mainland, yet could still not come to terms with the full range of things that could be bought. The islander in her felt it wasn't quite right, but neither was it really her concern.

What was her concern was up at the school. From where she stood, Tevi had a clear view of the buildings. The dark jumble of silhouettes crowded the cliff-tops west of town. Her next meeting with Jemeryl was not for two days. In the meantime, she had no way of knowing how the search for the renegade sorcerer was going. It left her feeling desperately uneasy. Her eyes fixed onto the distant buildings, as if she could, by an effort of will, see what was happening there.

"Dominates the town, doesn't it?" An elderly sailor had noticed the focus of her attention.

Tevi recalled herself. "Pardon?"

"The school up there - dominates all of Ekranos."

"I suppose the town has grown up in its shadow." Tevi said, glancing at the sailor.

He was dressed in the local style - a loose yoked smock with embroidered patterns, though these were barely visible beneath an assortment of stains. Despite his clothes, the sailor spoke with the wide rolling vowels of the lands to the north of Lyremouth. The lines on his face were deeply etched. His hands were stained and scared. Calluses showed the effect of a lifetime's work on the seas.

The sailor folded his arms and leaned back against a mooring post, clearly readying himself for a long chat. "No. Ekranos was here long before the school came. It used to be an independent port, pretty rich too - as long as whatever sorcerer ruled here was strong enough. It could control trade on the river and through the striates."

"What made it join the Protectorate?" Tevi asked, mainly to be polite.

"About 300 years back, the ghost-riders appeared, out in the Eastern Ocean. They killed the sorcerer who was here at the time. Ekranos swore allegiance to the Coven. It was a case of urgently needing the protection of the Protectorate. The school was originally an outpost built to guard the Middle Seas, by securing the Striates of Perithia against anything that might want to sail in."

"I thought they were herbalists up there."

"They are now. But they're a later arrival. For the first 100 years, it was a purely a defensive watch-post. Then new castles were built further up the straits and the healers moved in here. They said they could get better supplies in Ekranos. I reckon they wanted a bit of independence from the rest of the Coven. There's always been a bit of friction. If it went to a vote of the ordinary citizens, the healers would run the Coven. In practice, it don't work out like that. But it's true the supplies are better here than at Lyremouth. Many drugs come in from the Nether Islands. More come up the Dhaliki. Way down south are the rain forests. I've been told more plants grow there than in all the rest of the world put together. Mind you, I've seen some strange things growing in other places - flowers that eat birds and the like. I've sailed way beyond Cape Tallis in my time. You wouldn't credit some of the things I've seen..."

After a month on the harbour, Tevi recognised the introduction to a sailor's tall yarn. It was not something she was in the mood to listen to.

"It's good the herbalists have found a place where they can get everything they need. I can see they wouldn't want to go trotting around the world, picking things themselves." She cut in quickly to forestall the tale, then smiled and started to walk on.

The sailor did not take the hint. He continued speaking. "Oh, the sorcerers still go out travelling now and again, trying to find new specimens - though I admit most aren't keen on it. As a rule they're happier stuck with their books and potions. The deputy, Neame - she's the one who travels the most, and I reckon that's down to a dislike of the company in the school. I hear she's planning a trip out east next year and she had a long trek up and down Walderim three years back - was gone best part of a year. Then she had that shorter trip, down to the rain forest."

Tevi stopped in her tracks. If what the sailor said were true, it could be very important. However, she should not seem too eager in questioning him. Her gaze drifted across the roofs of the warehouses. The moon, well passed its full, hung above the town of Ekranos; the last remnants of daylight gave it a translucent sheen. She turned around and leaned back casually against a post.

"Do all the rest of the sorcerers stick in Ekranos then?" Tevi made an effort to sound disinterested, as if merely making polite conversation.

"Well... some of the juniors are forever going off to distant parts in the hope of finding something new and making a name for themselves. There's a couple off on the Sea Witch right now. By the time they get older, they tend to stay put. Bramell has been to Lyremouth twice since he took the headship, but it wasn't anything to do with getting drugs - just as well, he'd be hard put to tell a cabbage from a carnation. Orrago was quite a traveller in her time... of course now she's not up to it now. Levannue is the only other senior who's set foot outside Ekranos recently and that was just a quick visit to see her family the year before last, but perhaps she acquired the taste for travel as I've heard she's planning to go off again. She's heading up north in a month or so." He held up a finger. "No wait - I tell a lie, Roddis also went off last spring, but she'd been gone weeks before anyone noticed. She's too quiet, always gets overlooked."

"You seem to know a lot about the sorcerers." Doubts concerning the information's accuracy started to grow in Tevi's mind. The sailor's claimed knowledge of school matters was far more intimate than seemed likely, even allowing for the dockside grapevine.

The sailor smiled, clearly taking her words as a compliment. "Up until last autumn I was first mate on the Sea Witch, that's the school's own ship. I've sailed everywhere with the sorcerers. But I'm getting too old for that game, so I chucked it in for a shore job. I've known all the sorcerers since they were youngsters. I still see Neame from time to time and we have a little chat. She's decent, as sorcerers go - the only one you can really trust. Don't get me wrong, I respect sorcerers, but they don't think like us. You never know quite where you are with them. Take Bramell for instance. I used..."

Whatever else the sailor might have said was lost. The peace of the dock was shattered by loud shouts echoing along the quay. The voices rose, becoming more aggressive by the second. If it weren't yet a fight, it would be soon. All across the dock, heads turned towards the source of the hubbub - an animated group, clustered around the gangplank to one ship. Already, a second ring of onlookers was forming around them. More people were on deck, hanging over the rails in an attempt to see what was happening.

"I'd better go and sort it out." Tevi was moving even before she spoke.

"Take care. It sounds like trouble."

"Hopefully I can handle it. It's probably just some drunk - I'll see you around maybe."

Tevi jogged briskly down the quay towards the rowdy gang, noting with relief that two other customs officers were converging on the rumpus. Both were making an exaggerated show of the heavy wooden batons they carried. Tevi sighed to herself; it was going to be another busy night on the Ekranos dockside.

The section of the school devoted to non-medicinal herbalism and psychic studies was situated on the edge of the hospital complex. A dark corridor ran the length of the main building. Jemeryl stood at one end and considered the eight doorways. There was no indication as to which one she wanted. I guess mind reading would come under psychic studies, she thought wryly, but nameplates on the doors wouldn't hurt.

Both of the junior sorcerers who normally worked in this section were busy elsewhere and Levannue had urgent need of assistance. Jemeryl had been lent from the hospital. Her instructions had only gone as far as telling her to report to this building. In the end, it was the third door she tried that met with success. At the sound of it opening, Levannue looked up from the instruments on the desk.

"Excuse me, ma'am. Neame has sent me. I think you asked for some extra help?" Jemeryl said meekly.

After subjecting Jemeryl to a few seconds of critical appraisal, Levannue reached into the sixth dimension and twisted several power tensors into an elemental knot. "Can you dissipate that?"

Jemeryl took a sharp breath. Levannue's tone was not aggressive, but it was very definitely confrontational. However it was a simple task. Jemeryl slipped the knot free and allowed the trapped forces to flow away.

"Well that's a pleasant surprise." Levannue sounded satisfied. "Though I don't know how Neame managed to find someone who's competent in the sixth dimension - it must have been down to luck"

Jemeryl thought it wiser not to reply. It was true that many sorcerers in Ekranos were weak in manipulating the powers of the sixth dimension - their skills tended to lie with the life auras of the fifth, but the situation was not quite as bad as the tone implied. Maybe Levannue was assuming Neame would not put much effort in meeting her rival's request for help. Yet surely Levannue must know that the deputy principal was not the sort of person to risk the safety of the school over personal animosity. Neame had even taken advice from Erlam before selecting Jemeryl.

"Take these and come with me." Levannue's tone was brisk.

Jemeryl grabbed the items indicated and followed with haste. She had the feeling that Levannue would have very little tolerance for laziness or negligence.

Outside the building, two witches were already making preparations at the node point. A section of the school shields had become unbalanced and was going to need realignment. The witches were clearly both adepts in the sixth, but blind to the other paranormal dimensions. They would be responsible for keeping the elemental forces under control while Levannue made the delicate repairs. Jemeryl's role was to work as an intermediary. With Levannue so close to the node it was essential that the final link be under the control of someone who could separate out her life aura from the flux. Temporal resonance would also have to be woven into the lines. Jemeryl tried not to grin, but she found that she was looking forward to the challenge.

The job lived up to her expectations. It was easily the most enjoyable project she had undertaken since arriving at the school. Sixth dimensional magic had always been her favourite. Levannue worked quickly and deftly; there was no way her competence could be called into question. Within the hour the realignment was complete. Jemeryl stepped back and let out her breath in a rush, feeling faintly surprised. She had been so engrossed in the task that only now it was over did she realise how tiring it had been.

She was even more surprised when Levannue looked at her with clear approval. "You did well."

This time Jemeryl did not try to hide her smile. Levannue was not someone who would give out praise indiscriminately to her subordinates. It was not in her nature to spare other people's feelings; definitely not where work was involved.

The witches were dismissed and the two sorcerers returned to Levannue's room. There was a record book for the shields that officially required both their signatures. Jemeryl quickly scanned back up the page after signing her name. As she suspected, the 'two name' rule had only been strictly enforced since Bramell became principal. Her smile faded abruptly when saw that, until three years ago, the sorcerer's name beside Levannue's had invariably been that of Aris.

"What is it?" Levannue had noticed the change in her expression.

Jemeryl hesitated, but there seemed no reason not to tell the truth. "It's just... Aris. Vine told me about her unfortunate er... death."

"Yes. She was a sad loss. Her abilities have been greatly missed by this department." Levannue's tone was even more abrupt than usual. She took a breath to say something else, but then stopped, in a very rare show of indecisiveness. She averted her face and then said, "You may put the book away and go."

Levannue hurried off to the far side of the room, almost as if she were running away. Jemeryl pursed her lips thoughtfully. It would appear that the head of psychic studies was not quite as cold and detached as she made out. The death of Aris clearly upset her.

Jemeryl ducked down to return the record book to its place in a cupboard. As she did so she heard the door of the room opening, although, in her crouching position, she was hidden from its view.

"Hello snuggums. Did it all go alright for you, my poppet?"

Jemeryl nearly choked to recognise Bramell's voice, although the sugary tones where unlike anything she had heard from him before. He obviously had no idea that she was there. If only Levannue were similarly unaware of her presence Jemeryl might have tried keeping out of sight until they had both gone, however she did not have that option. Unwillingly, she stood up straight.

At the sight of her the principal's face went through a range of expressions - all of them hard to put a name on, while Levannue looked exasperated. Jemeryl merely wished that she were somewhere else. Without a word being said by anyone she sidled out of the room, past Bramell, who had not moved an inch from the doorway.

It was only when she had reached the enclosed courtyard outside the building that Jemeryl let herself start giggling. Unfortunately, she dare not share the story with Vine. If the name 'snuggums' circulated the school, both Bramell and Levannue would know who blame. Jemeryl shook her head. She had realised that Bramell's hard, dictatorial manner was a facade, but she would never have guessed it covered a soppy, sentimental interior.

The tide was ebbing as Tevi walked up the beach. The morning sun fell square on her back. Wading birds were probing the wet sand with long, thin beaks. They scattered at her approach in a flurry of white wings and wailing cries. Only Tevi's footprints defaced the smooth, featureless surface of freshly exposed sand. The single track on the shore behind her led back to Ekranos.

At the high-tide point, a thick line of dead seaweed, broken shells and driftwood marked the division between wet and dry sand. She stopped and looked up. Cliffs of pitted white chalk rose in broken tiers, slashed by tilted fault planes. It was dazzling in the bright sunshine. Irregular bands of stunted gorse and sea-grass sprouted from cracks. The only break was where a wide seam of harder rock split the face of the chalk in a diagonal line.

A narrow path picked its way down this route, hollowed by the passage of feet. Steps were cut back into the chalk at the steeper points. The ledge faded into the cliffs at the top and a wooden handrail edged the side of the path along this most precarious section. Looking higher still, the footpath finally disappeared over the cliff-top. A small gateway was set under a wooden arch; surely not so much to guard the rear entrance to the school of herbalism as to mark the start of the path for those leaving.

Tevi walked further up the beach. At the high-tide line, the sun-dried seaweed crackled under her feet and swarms of sand flies rose in buzzing clouds. She selected a patch of clean dry sand, turned around and sat cross-legged, looking back out over the water. Memories of Storenseg teased at her thoughts, triggered by the familiar sour smell of dead seaweed and sound of waves hissing over the sand. Tevi's eyes closed and she rested her chin on her fists. The breeze off the sea gently lifted her hair, tickling the sides of her face and forehead.

"Tevi." The shout came from behind. Tevi twisted around.

Jemeryl was a third of the way down the cliff path. Tevi scrambled to her feet and raced up the beach to meet her. Dry sand slipped back under her feet so each step seemed to take her only a few inches forward. By the time Tevi reached the foot of the path, Jemeryl had almost completed her descent. She threw her arms about Tevi, and held her close while they kissed.

"I'm sorry I'm late, have you been waiting long?" Jemeryl said.

"Only a few minutes."

With arms wrapped around each other's waist, they wandered a short way along the shore, until a sharp bend in the cliff face took them out of sight of the path. A crumbling spur of rock made a natural windbreak, sheltering a warm sandy spot, and hiding them from view.

Tevi let go of Jemeryl and flopped down on the sand. She sat, stretching out her legs and leaning back with her arms as props, elbows locked straight. Her eyes were closed and she smiled, enjoying the sun on her face. Jemeryl knelt beside her and gently knocked a supporting arm away, pushing Tevi flat on her back.

"How long before you have to return?" Jemeryl asked, with a teasing undercurrent to her voice. Her fingers moved to unfastened Tevi's shirt.

Tevi slipped from under Jemeryl's hand and struggled to sit up. "No, wait. We've got to talk, Jem. I've learnt something. Neame was in Walderim at the time the chalice was taken - a sailor on the docks told me. Neame must be the traitor."

The smile left Jemeryl's face immediately. She sat back on her heels, and braced her hands on her knees. While Tevi briefly repeated her conversation with the sailor, she stared silently into the distance.

"That was all he had to say?" Jemeryl asked when the account was finished.

"Yes, and I can't be sure he was telling the truth. But, in my experience, when sailors make up stories they tend to be more dramatic."

"He's obviously familiar with the school. And some of his information is definitely correct. Levannue is intending to take a trip north later this year. I've heard about it from Vine." Jemeryl bit her lip.

"So Neame is the one we're after?" Tevi prompted, seeking agreement.

Jemeryl frowned. "It's still only a guess. There's no real proof."

"You can't let your liking for people influence your judgement."

"Oh, I know that." Jemeryl pulled her knees up.

"There's more to it. I can see it in your face." Tevi felt a sudden certainty.

"Yes... there is. The sailor was right about there being a party of sorcerers travelling in Walderim at the time the chalice was stolen. I'm not sure who was in the group, but Neame may well have been leading it. I could ask Vine, she's bound to know. The problem is getting the information without setting her off wondering why I'm interested." Jemeryl sighed. "One of the people in the group I do know about was a young sorcerer called Aris. But she never came back to Ekranos - with or without the chalice. She died in Walderim. The story is she killed herself."

There was a long silence. When Tevi spoke, her voice was soft but very serious. "That would seem to leave us with two possibilities. Either her death is a pure coincidence, or Aris found out about the chalice and Neame killed her and made it look like suicide. Jem, you've got to be very careful. I know you like Neame, but we aren't just talking about someone indulging in a little unofficial prying into secrets. There's a good chance we're talking about deliberate murder. I'm worried about you. You mustn't take risks."

Jemeryl's forehead dropped onto her knees. "I admit it looks bad for Neame, but we need more proof."

Despite her own conviction, Tevi could sense her lover's unhappiness. She didn't want Jemeryl to ignore her own danger, yet she didn't want to put a rift between them. She took hold of Jemeryl's hand, trying to think of some conciliatory words. "Well... yes, I suppose we need to eliminate other people first, to be totally certain. Like Levannue. She made that trip to her family. Perhaps the sailor got the dates wrong and maybe she comes from Walderim."

Jemeryl shook her head slowly. "From her accent Levannue comes from around Serac."

"Perhaps her family has emigrated recently."

"It's all right, my love. You don't have to strain conjecture too far." Jemeryl put her arm around Tevi's waist. "If Neame's the guilty one then we'll get her. But it will mean that I've been totally duped, and I'll never trust my own judgement again."

Jemeryl rested her head on Tevi's shoulder. The pair of them stared out across the beach. The sun was starting to beat hard upon the sand and play in dazzling glitter over the water. The sea was deep turquoise blue. Birds scurried at the water's edge, darting back and forth between the waves.

"Will you be really upset if it's Neame?" Tevi asked eventually.

"Yes. But if Neame is guilty, then her caring manner is a sham, and the woman I like and admire doesn't exist. Whatever the truth is, it can be sorted out later. For the moment, I've got some free time with you, and it's too precious a commodity to waste brooding." Jemeryl took a deep breath and raised her head. The grin returned to her face. "You didn't answer my original question, how long before you have to go back?"

"I've got to be on the docks two hours before noon."

"Plenty of time."

The hand around Tevi's waist started to tug her shirt free of her belt.

"Jem! Supposing someone comes strolling along the beach." There was no real protest in Tevi's voice.

"I'll set a shimmer screen for the eyes of the ungifted and sorcerers ought to have better manners than to pry. Even Vine has her standards..." Jemeryl paused for a moment and shrugged. "I think."

Tevi laughed. She wrapped her arms around Jemeryl's shoulder and fell back, pulling Jemeryl down on top of her. For a while they lay, kissing, while their actions increased steadily in passion. Tevi's hands burrowed into Jemeryl's clothing, until they reached the soft, warm skin. At the same time she felt Jemeryl's mouth and teeth on her throat. Tevi could guess the sort of remarks it would draw if she returned to the docks with marks showing, but she was not about to ask Jemeryl to stop.

The sounds and smells of the sea, and the hot sand beneath her, carried Tevi back to Storenseg. It could have been one of her adolescent fantasies made real, but the woman in her arms exceeded anything she had ever imagined. She was amazed at how much she wanted Jemeryl. The physical ache was the least of it. Her desire to touch Jemeryl and be touched, although rooted in her body, seemed to transcend it. It was a wave of passion that could carry her very soul away.

Jemeryl's hand was kneading Tevi's breast through her shirt, taking her swiftly to a state of advanced arousal. Tevi pulled away and began to loosen her own clothing. It would be wisest to get undressed while she was still able to muster some self-control. She drew the line at returning to work with torn cloths.
 
 

Continued in chapter 5.

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