Disclaimers: see part 1, chapter 1

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By Jane Fletcher

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The lock on the side entrance to the library yielded to a simple spell. As Jemeryl swung the door open, a faint squeal caused her to stop and glanced over her shoulder. The school buildings huddled behind her in the darkness. The moon had long since set and the twitter of insects was muted in the chill hours before dawn. Nothing moved. No lights or voices pierced the night. Jemeryl released the breath she had been holding.

Once inside the building she risked a light-globe. The walls of a long room sprung up around her - a store for furniture needing repair, by the look of it. Jemeryl hurried on through a series of rooms, towards the central hall. Wild shadows leapt around her, jumping between the bookshelves. Darkness receded in front of her, to flow back behind and swallow the rooms she left.

The cavernous central hall was silent when she entered. The dark, brooding space played with her imagination, but Jemeryl could not afford to let it distract her. She did not want to waste time. The location of the entry she wanted had been identified on the previous day. She carried the expired ledger to a desk. The pounding of her heart seemed to echo from the domed roof, lost in darkness above. Writing danced in front of her eyes, taunting her, until Orrago's signature slipped into focus.

All other thoughts were swept from Jemeryl's mind as she concentrated on her spell, weaving the lines of knowledge and time with the essence of paper and ink. The projections of her fingers plucked the nets of the higher dimensions. Before her eyes the image of a name formed - the name she least expected - Orrago.

Jemeryl's shoulders slumped. Confusion and frustration replaced her previous excitement. She stared at the page angrily. There was nothing she could do other than to risk breaking into Bramell's office. She scraped her chair back from the desk, heedless of the loud screech, and reached out to shut the register, treating the page to one last, baleful glare.

"What do you think you're doing?" A clear voice rung out from the darkness.

Jemeryl froze, unmoving, as the sound of sharp footsteps approached the desk. Moragar strode forward into the light. He stopped at her shoulder and looked down at the open register. With a snort, he stepped around the desk, pulled out a second chair and threw himself down. There was a long, taut silence while Moragar's eyes drilled into her. He then leaned forward, still watching her intently.

"I should take you straight to Bramell, but I don't think he'll be much help. So, I'm going to give you a chance to explain to me first. I want you to tell me about Lorimal."

"I was just curious about the book I found, sir." Jemeryl tried to sound guileless.

"I think not." Moragar's finger stretched out and tapped the entry beside Orrago's signature. "Any other book and I might possibly have believed you. But not this one."

"I don't know what you mean." Jemeryl's mouth was dry.

"You're sure about that?"

"Yes, sir."

"Perhaps you might have more to say if I first tell you why I'm interested?"

It sounded like a challenge. Jemeryl nodded cautiously by way of answer.

Moragar sighed. "It's not something I've discussed with anyone else, but I think you might have some answers."

"I'm not..." Jemeryl's voice trailed away, uncertain.

Moragar folded his arms. There was a fierceness in his expression, although, Jemeryl thought, not aimed at her - more as if he was reliving old pains. When he spoke, his voice was soft. "It goes back to Druse, and his death. Just before he died, he called for me. He was very ill, bedridden, but I could tell something else was wrong. There's a section of the library with restricted access - you need Bramell's permission to enter. I'm sure you can guess what sort of books are kept there. What Druse wanted to tell me was that someone had taken advantage of the plague situation to break into the restricted section. The chief librarian has a watch-ward placed on the room, but it was set on the assumption Druse could go and investigate the second the alarm was triggered. Incidentally, that's how I knew you were here, there are watch-wards on all doors. You should have been more careful."

"Yes, sir." Jemeryl felt foolish to have been trapped so easily.

"Druse gave me the keys and sent me to find out if anything had been taken - it turned out to be just one book. Druse thought the person would try to sneak it back. He gave me a more sensitive ward to put in place - one that would let him detect the culprit's identity. As you can imagine, what with plague rampant, I didn't have time to look into it myself. I didn't pay much attention. I assumed one of the apprentices was using the general chaos to play a childish game - very stupid of them, but hardly a priority. I set the watch-ward, and thought no more of it. The one thing I do remember was that the missing book was a history of a sorcerer called Lorimal. Then, two days later, Druse died. When I checked, the book was back in place. Ever since then, I've been wondering. Perhaps Druse confronted whoever it was - maybe he wanted to give them a chance to explain, and perhaps his death wasn't due to the plague." Moragar's normally cheerful voice was cold.

"You think he was murdered?" Jemeryl said, more a statement than a question.

"He wasn't old, or infirm, yet he was the only one to die." Moragar looked steadily at Jemeryl. "You don't seem surprised by the suggestion."

"Of course... it would be appalling, if it were true."

"Yet you have no trouble accepting the idea." Moragar said softly, but pointedly. "Bramell did. He dismissed my suspicions. He said Druse was very ill and may have imagined things, however he took the book about Lorimal out of the library." Moragar tapped his knuckles on the register. "Then I remembered this missing manuscript had been written by her. It all seemed too much of a coincidence - two missing books linked to same person. So, I tried to find out more about Lorimal... I was astonished - do you know there's hardly a word about her in the whole library? More than that, there are even neat little patches were material ought to be. Now you come here from Lyremouth and start trying to dig up information about her." Moragar fixed Jemeryl with a piercing stare. "I want to know what's going on. I want to know who Lorimal was. But, most of all, I want to know if someone murdered Druse."

Moragar had said his bit. He sat back, waiting for Jemeryl to speak. She stared at her hands on the tabletop while her thoughts raced, considering her options. Everything Moragar had said could be a lie, part of a ploy to get her to reveal her hand. Equally, he might be innocent. Unless she went some way to answering his questions, Bramell would be called in, with potentially disastrous complications.

Jemeryl reached a decision. She had to tell him something. It would even be safer to let him know she was not alone in Ekranos, and imply her backup was more substantial than it really was. It was necessary to choose her words very carefully.

"I'm afraid I'm not allowed to tell you much." Jemeryl said slowly.

"A convenient excuse."

"No - there's more to it. Lorimal performed some forbidden research, nearly two hundred years ago. Her work was of such a dangerous nature that virtually all mention of her was removed from the records. However, someone in Ekranos has found out about her and has been trying to repeat her experiments. We were sent here to find out who." That much could be told with reasonable safety. If Moragar were the traitor, he already knew all about Lorimal and, if not, it was no more than the Guardian had told the mercenary guild-master in Lyremouth.

"We?" Moragar queried.

"I wasn't sent alone. But I can't reveal my colleague's names."

"And what were you doing in the library?"

"I came to check whether it was really Orrago who took out the manuscript. I'd thought someone else might have forged her signature. I was wrong. My colleagues are following other trails, hopefully they'll have more luck than me." Jemeryl looked straight at Moragar. "Once we've identified the culprit, I promise we'll try to find out how Druse died. A sorcerer has broken the oath of loyalty to the Coven. We have a traitor on our hands and murder is not too unlikely. You must realise how serious this is, and that I can't say much. You're a suspect yourself - every sorcerer in Ekranos is."

There was a long pause. Eventually Moragar smiled wryly. "Yes, I can see that."

"I'm going have to ask you to trust me."

"That's quite a lot to ask." Moragar was thoughtful. "However you weren't in Ekranos at the time of Druse's death. Wherever you fit into the story, you weren't his murderer. And what you've said about Lorimal fits in with some of my guesswork."

"What are you going to do about me?"

"Nothing, for now. I'll be watching you - and watching my own health. I'll make sure that if anything happens to me Bramell and Neame will find out all about this conversation."

"Thank you." It was the best Jemeryl could have hoped for.

"I know I should go to Bramell, but he couldn't cope with anything this serious. He'd bury his head in the rulebook and refuse to believe you, or insist on taking some inappropriate action. I don't want the guilty to escape. I think someone murdered Druse and I want their head on a platter. I'm not accepting everything you've said without question - I'm not that naïve. But I think leaving you a free hand is the best chance to flush the bastard out." The violence that had been underlying Moragar's words all evening suddenly broke through. Jemeryl did not envy the renegade sorcerer if they fell into the librarian's hands.

"I'll do my best."

Moragar stood and pushed the chair under the table. He waited to one side, clearly intending to escort Jemeryl from the building; however she remained seated. With the need for secrecy gone, there was no harm in asking a few direct questions.

Jemeryl looked at him. "Rather than me try and dig the information out, perhaps you could save time by helping with a few more things."

"Such as?"

"Has anyone else shown an interest in Lorimal over the past eight years or so?"

Moragar rested a hip on the table. "No, you're the first."

"Or information about Walderim?"

Moragar frowned as he searched his memory. "Neame did when she was organising her expedition. Apart from that, a few people have got out books on the flora. If you like I'll scan the records tomorrow and see what crops up."

"Thank you."

"Anything else?"

Jemeryl thought for a moment. "Well... do you know anything about the artificial bird Neame was making. How close it was to completion? Where it is now and who had access to it?"

"Why?" Moragar looked genuinely puzzled.

"A raven was spotted somewhere a raven couldn't have been. I wondered if it was this device instead."

Moragar snorted. "Not if it was mistaken for a raven. It was called a bird because it flew, but it looked more like a four-legged, green octopus with wings. I haven't a clue where it is now - probably sludge in the bottom of a bucket. It never worked. They couldn't sort out the problems with holding solidity when airborne."

Jemeryl covered her face with a hand. The bird's appearance was an obvious point she had not considered before.

"Anything else you want to know?" Moragar asked.

"No. Thank-you." Despondently, Jemeryl got out of the chair and followed the librarian out of the hall.

It was still dark outside, but dawn was not far away. The air was charged with the possibilities of the coming day.

Moragar locked the door and then turned for a last word. "In future, if you want something from the library, ask me. Don't try breaking in."

Jemeryl sighed ruefully. "No, sir."

* * * * * *

Jemeryl returned to her study and sat a long time at the desk, trying to order her thoughts. The sky through the window lightened to washed azure. The chaotic piping of birds rose in volume, filling the deserted paths and courtyards of the school with discordant cascades of crystal-clean notes.

Only when the dawn chorus was starting to fade did Jemeryl stand and stretch her arms above her head. The joints in her shoulders cracked. On her desk lay several sheets of paper, covered in notes and untidy diagrams - an attempt to order all she had learned into a coherent framework. She shook her head with a bewildered frown. It appeared to prove that no one could be guilty.

The nearest thing to an easy solution was that Moragar had lied about Druse's death and the golem-bird's appearance. That he had used the confusion due to the plague to send the golem to Storenseg. And that his story was solely to buy time while he made a bolt for the hills, taking both chalice and spell with him.

However, this only raised more questions. Why would Moragar hide the manuscript in the dispensary? Even as assistant librarian, he had free-run of the library. He could have left the manuscript in place and consulted it whenever he wanted, after hours. On top of this, it meant that Neame's presence in Walderim and Aris's death were simply coincidences. Jemeryl was unhappy with the idea. Nor could she forget Moragar's face when he had called for the murderer's head. She would have staked anything that he was telling the truth. Yet, it was impossible to come up with any other even vaguely plausible scenario.

If you accepted Moragar's statement as true, it put Bramell in the clear. It was hard to think of a reason why the principal should break into a library area he controlled access to. And, if the golem didn't work, he had no way to obtain the chalice.

Starting logically, from the beginning, didn't help either. Orrago was the one who borrowed the manuscript. Since it must have been taken to locate the chalice, she must have done that as well - which meant her dementia was a trick. Which in turn meant that Levannue, as her doctor, was either spectacularly inept or involved in a conspiracy.

With the golem-bird discounted, only Aris could have taken the chalice. She had committed suicide through remorse, or possibly been murdered. In the mean time, the decrepit former head had either left her sickbed or persuaded Levannue to both break into the library and murder Druse. Neame must have bought the chalice back to Ekranos, despite the fact she couldn't personally benefit from the chalice, and had merrily handed it over to the other conspirators.

Somehow, it all seemed less than likely.

Jemeryl sighed and rolled her head back to stare at the ceiling. It was too late to return to bed. Soon, people would be rising and she would be off for an early morning rendezvous with Tevi. The timing of the library break-in had been in the hope that the naming spell would provide definite evidence. Then Jemeryl could have collected the warrant from Tevi and returned to the school, ready to present Bramell with her findings, or if the principal was the culprit, to muster the other seniors in the school against him. It was another plan down the drain.

Jemeryl shuffled the papers together and slipped them into the top of a bag that was already packed and waiting by the doorway. After pulling the drawstring tight, the bag was propped back against the wall and Jemeryl stepped out onto the veranda. The air was clean and sharp. The dawn breeze felt chill through the thin cotton of her shirt, but the clear sky held the promise of another hot day. Already, dust hazed the horizon.

The crunch of footsteps on gravel cut through the peace of the courtyard below. Leaning on the wooden balustrade, Jemeryl looked down to see two of the kitchen staff stroll by, lost in murmured conversation on their way to the refectory. Jemeryl watched until the pair disappeared from sight. Her gaze returned to the building opposite. The first rays of the sun struck the ridge of the roof, dusting it with gold. The raucous cries of gulls rose above the fading chorus of the songbirds. From the distance, the hollow clanking of a dropped bucket echoed in the morning stillness.

A door to the left opened and a neighbour emerged, blinking blearily in the daylight. Jemeryl acknowledged the casual wave of greeting and turned to the open door of her own study. The first sounds of movement were coming from Vine's bedroom. Hastily, Jemeryl hoisted her bag over her shoulder and scuttled along the veranda to the stairs at the end. She had no wish to be questioned by Vine.

The doors to the kitchens were open as Jemeryl passed. The warm smell of fresh baking made her halt. She had intended to take breakfast with Tevi, but a second waft, seasoned with the sharp scent of spice changed of mind. On a table just inside the door was a wicker basket, piled high with small cakes. Jemeryl dropped two into the top of her bag to eat on the way into town and took a mouthful from a third. One of the kitchen-staff grinned at her and indicated a pitcher of milk - a good idea, thinking of the dusty ride ahead. Jemeryl poured a mug and drank while looking around the kitchens.

At the far end, the cook was busy at the ovens, dividing his time equally between examining the bread and yelling abuse at his underlings. He hadn't noticed Jemeryl's presence, which was how she preferred it. It would be hard to swallow if confronted by one of the cook's lightning changes in demeanour.

One of the smaller boys was the current target of the cook's rage. "Stop following me around flapping the thing in my face. Put it down over there and I'll pick it up later."

The woman who had pointed out the milk exchanged a smile with Jemeryl. No one was really afraid of the cook's blustering show of temper. Then the expression on Jemeryl's face froze as the significance of the cook's words registered. Put it down over there and I'll pick it up later. It wasn't so much a clue, more a way of solving the problem.

The bustle in the kitchen faded from Jemeryl's eyes as she stood, transfixed, running ideas through her head. Everything tied together - it was almost too easy.

She knew who had Lorimal's chalice.

* * * * * *

There was a scattering of customers at the tables outside the Inn of Singing Birds. Some were guests taking their morning meal; others were locals stopping off on their way to work. Tevi was among them. Her head rested on her folded arms, as she dozed in the warmth of the early morning sun, having come straight from a long night shift at the docks. The remains of her breakfast were scattered over the table.

Jemeryl's shadow fell across the sleeping woman. "Good morning, how are you?"

Tevi jerked awake and sat up, stifling a yawn. "Er... morning. I'm fine."

"Been waiting long?" Jemeryl asked. She ducked her head to plant a soft kiss of greeting on Tevi's lips.

"I don't think so, but I've been asleep." Tevi had closed her eyes for the kiss. She opened them and looked at the crumbs apologetically. "I'm afraid I've eaten most of the food. I'm sure the waiter will get more for you."

"Doesn't matter. I ate something on the way down."

Something in the tone alerted Tevi. She shaded her eyes from the sun's rays and examined Jemeryl's face. "What's up?"

"I know who did it."

"The spell with the signature worked?"

"No." Jemeryl grinned at Tevi's confusion.

"It didn't work? But, you've found out..." Tevi shook her head as if to clear it. "Who was it?"

Jemeryl held up a hand. "In good time. First I want to tell you about what happened last night."

"Oh, come on!"

Tevi's agonised cry of protest was ignored. Jemeryl slid onto the opposite bench and launched into a brisk account of the events at the library, including her conversation with Moragar. Her obvious excitement drew curious but discrete looks from surrounding tables. A waiter who came to take the breakfast order was waved away. Notes were dragged from her bag and scattered across the table, supplemented by invisible diagrams drawn in the air. None of it was any more enlightening to Tevi than it had been to Jemeryl earlier.

In the end, Tevi cut into the stream of words. "Look, I don't see where this is going. You seem to be saying that no one could have done it."

"I want you to understand the bewilderment I was feeling."

"All right. I'm bewildered. Now will you tell me who did it?" Tevi pleaded.

"Well, as you can see, it was like an impossible problem - a whole set of impossible problems. Then I overheard a chance remark and everything fell into place."

"And?"

"Don't you want to know what the remark was?" Jemeryl asked, infuriatingly.

"No."

"But it..."

Tevi interrupted, catching hold of Jemeryl's hand. "Please, just tell me who."

Their eyes met. Jemeryl took a deep breath. "Levannue."

"But she was in Lyremouth when the chalice was taken, and..." Tevi released Jemeryl's hand and crossed her arms. "How?"

Jemeryl rested both elbows on the table. Some of the hectic excitement left her voice. "I've been guilty of one big oversight. I was right when I said Levannue couldn't control another sorcerer without their consent, but I didn't give enough weight to Vine's point about dropping defences when you receive psychiatric treatment."

"Didn't you say the effect of entrapment would be obvious to others?" Tevi objected, frowning.

"Yes, it would be. There will be a sudden noticeable personality shift. However, when someone receives treatment, a change in behaviour is exactly what people hope to see. In addition, Orrago is so erratic no one questions her moods. Even so, Levannue can't have her in complete thrall - she would be acting like a listless dummy, especially if Levannue was using an enslaving device."

"You think she has just enough control to make Orrago take the manuscript and hide it?"

Jemeryl nodded. "Something like that."

"It doesn't explain how she got the chalice."

"I'm guessing, but remember Aris was highly neurotic. It's very likely she'd have gone to Levannue for help. There is evidence for a personality shift just before she left for Walderim - Erlam told me Aris was starting to improve, but it could have been that she was showing the effects of Levannue clamping down on her mind. Levannue wouldn't have been able to control Aris directly when she was so far away, but she could have imprinted a set of instructions to be followed when the chance arose."

Tevi thought it through. "And you think Levannue also made Neame bring the chalice back?"

"No. In fact I'm quite certain she didn't." Jemeryl shook her head emphatically. "Neame would never permit Levannue to tinker around with her head. And all the sorcerers in the Coven combined couldn't trap Neame's aura without her consent."

"But I suppose you've worked out how she got the chalice back." Tevi said with a patient smile.

"Of course I have. That was the chance remark I mentioned. And once I'd realised how the chalice was retrieved, everything else was easy." Jemeryl leaned forward. "I'll start at the beginning. I think things happened something like this... when Orrago's dementia became pronounced she went to Levannue for treatment. In the course of probing Orrago's mind, Levannue found out about Lorimal, or maybe Bramell had already given an inadvertent clue and she was able to get more information. However it was, Levannue started to investigate Lorimal. She realised the stains on the manuscript could be used to trace the chalice and so made Orrago take the book and hide it within easy reach. Levannue is always popping into the dispensary to see Orrago. Once she'd traced the chalice to your island, she had the problem of recovering it. I'll bet she talked Bramell into confiscating the golem-bird in the hope it would help her - she'd have had precious little joy asking Neame to borrow it. It must have been quite a blow when she found out the bird wouldn't stay in one piece. Then Neame started planning her trip to Walderim. Erlam said that Aris went because it was suggested that the expedition would help her problems. To me it sounds more like Levannue used her position as doctor to get Aris within range of the chalice." Jemeryl's bag was propped against a leg of the table. She pulled out a sheet of paper and hastily sketched a rough map of Walderim and the Western isles, marking a spot on the mountains above Scathberg. "This was were Aris was. In two days, she could have ridden a raven the 500 miles to your islands and back. She then needed a break to catch up on food and rest, and things like that."

Tevi's forehead furrowed. After a long night with no sleep, she was struggling to see where Jemeryl's reasoning was leading. "We've already worked that out. How did the chalice get back to Levannue?"

Jemeryl merely expanded her map, drawing in the Middle Sea. "Once she'd recuperated, Aris sent the raven off again, but going east this time - to around here." Jemeryl pointed to the area on the map. "I told you Levannue has a Serac accent. The chalice could have been hidden in a suitable spot - I'm sure Levannue could think of somewhere. She let the chalice lie there for a year, waiting to see if there was any reaction to the theft. Once she was happy the alarm hadn't been raised, she went on a short visit to her parents, picked it up and brought it back with her."

Tevi's gaze fixed on the far side of the square as she mulled it over. "Levannue made Aris commit suicide to hide her tracks?"

At the suggestion Jemeryl's smile faded. "I don't think so. At least, I'd like not to think so. Mind-riding a raven for that length of time would be unsettling for anyone. It must have been the last straw for Aris and pushed her over the edge. I don't think it was deliberate on Levannue's part. There was no need. She could easily have scrubbed Aris's memory once she returned. And I don't believe she could be so callous as to murder one of her patients - someone who trusted her. Erlam said that Aris jumped off the top of a tower. Perhaps it wasn't intentional suicide on her part, maybe she still thought she was a raven."

"The suicide was still quite convenient for Levannue." Tevi clearly did not share Jemeryl's faith. "And it must be significant that Druse's death didn't happen until after Levannue was back on her feet after having the plague."

"I suppose so." Jemeryl conceded, after a pause.

"One death might be bad luck; two start to look deliberate. My hypothesis, to add to yours, is that Bramell is too fixed on the rulebook to allow even his partner access to forbidden books. So, once Levannue recovered from the plague, with Bramell ill and Moragar busy, she decided to investigate to see if she could find out anything else that might be of use to her - something to make her work with the chalice easier. When Druse discovered it was Levannue who had broken into the section he probably assumed she was doing something for Bramell, so rather than raise the alarm, he had a private word with her first to ask what was going on. But Levannue didn't want Bramell to find out, so she killed Druse and passed it off as the plague."

Jemeryl sighed. "Maybe. It would tie in. The problem is we don't have a scrap of evidence."

"And I rather suspect, since Bramell and Levannue have been partners for years, that it's going to take a bit more than guesswork to convince him."

"True. It all rests on the supposition Levannue has been entrapping other sorcerers."

"Don't you have any evidence?" Tevi asked.

Jemeryl thought for a while. "It's not conclusive, but there is one incident that supports the idea. It happened when Levannue came to collect Orrago from her private study. Vine and I were also in there, due to a set of circumstances Levannue couldn't have expected. Without any warning, Orrago jumped up and trotted over to open the door, and at that very second Levannue arrived outside. There was no way Orrago should have known Levannue was there."

"It might have been coincidence."

"Except Levannue was shocked. At the time, I assumed it was surprise at the door opening in her face. Plus I was unwell and didn't pay much attention, especially as Levannue started aggressively challenging Vine and me about our right to be there - which could well have been a calculated diversion because she knew she'd given herself away by calling Orrago to her."

"I can't see it persuading Bramell." Tevi said with dry irony.

"I know we don't have enough to put before him, and we don't have much time. Levannue is due to leave Ekranos at the end of this month. She's supposed to be going north to test a new ward, but I'll bet she's planning to flee the Protectorate. If I can't get any definite evidence before then, I'll have to persuade Bramell to use the manuscript to trace the chalice to its current location - and persuading him won't be either easy or fun. Hopefully Levannue is still hanging on to the chalice and didn't destroy it once she'd finished probing its memory."

"Do you think you should keep the Guardian's warrant up at the school, in case you need it in a hurry?"

Jemeryl chewed her lip thoughtfully. "It will be safer with you. If Levannue gets suspicious the first thing she'll do is search my room. If anything happens I'll get a message through to Klara and you can come running. And it might be best to go to Neame first rather than straight to Bramell; she'll be much more receptive to the idea of Levannue as a traitor to the Coven. But hopefully it won't get to a last minute rush. Once I get back to the school, I'm going to start collecting proof. Now I'm working on charms, I'll have plenty of chances to watch Levannue."

"Be very careful. Remember it's likely she's murdered two people already. If anything should happen to you..." Tevi closed her eyes, trying to keep the dread from her voice.

"Nothing will." Jemeryl reached out and caught Tevi's hand.

The two women sat in silence for a while. The sun was now well clear of the rooftops, and glittered brilliantly off the white stone walls. Jemeryl's eyes travelled idly around the square. The euphoria of solving the mystery was fading, melting in the rising heat. She found herself yawning, the result of being awake since the early hours.

Beside her, Tevi's head was also nodding. Jemeryl shook her gently. "Come on. I think I should take you up to bed and make sure you get some sleep."

Klara's beak opened a fraction.

Jemeryl anticipated the magpie, placing a forefinger on her beak. "And you can keep that remark to yourself."

* * * * * *

The nauseating stench of rowan permeated the upper dimensions. Jemeryl clenched her teeth and tried to ignore it. She adjusted a set of bone talismans until they formed a perfect circle on the bench. The carved bone tingled under her fingers in a way that was less disagreeable than the rowan, although fundamentally more unsettling. Once the arrangement met with her satisfaction, Jemeryl lit a red wax candle and placed it under the small tripod at the centre of the circle. She stepped back from the bench, futilely trying to wipe traces of the rowan aura from her hands.

"I think it's ready ma'am."

"I'll be over in a minute." Levannue replied from the far side of the room.

While waiting, Jemeryl studied her quarry. Levannue deftly cut open berries and removed black seeds from inside. The long fingers moved with practised skill. The flesh between the knuckles was sunken, but the joints were firm. No redness or blotches marred the skin - old hands, yet still graceful. They matched Levannue's fine-boned features, and her sharp dark eyes and pale lips. Iron-grey hair moulded neatly to her head. The tracery of lines on her skin added texture without sagging. Everything about Levannue conveyed a sense of elegance and dispassionate precision.

Was this a woman who had calmly arranged the deaths of Aris and Druse? A woman who would overthrow the Protectorate for her own ambition? Not for the first time in the previous nine days, Jemeryl shivered at the thought.

Her eyes returned to the candle and talismans. She stared at the small flame, wondering how to get the evidence she needed. One thing was for sure; she dare not let Levannue leave Ekranos - yet, the proposed departure date was getting close. Only another eleven days were left. If nothing more was learned before then, she would have to go Bramell with her suspicions and rely on the authority of the Guardian's warrant to demand further investigations.

"If that's the preparations complete, we can begin the synthesis." Levannue took her place on the other side of the table and reviewed Jemeryl's work.

The elderly sorcerer reached out to adjust the axis of two talismans. Jemeryl nodded, seeing how it improved the balance of forces. Levannue placed a small silver crucible containing the seeds on the tripod. Light from the candle reflected in the polished surface, the flame magnified by the curvature of the bowl. Soon, the bitter scent of the roasting seeds wafted in Jemeryl's direction. A pinch of horsehair was added to the crucible, along with the shavings of rowan bark and a few grains of sea-salt.

Levannue seemed oblivious to the rowan, although Jemeryl knew she was, if anything, more sensitive to the aura than herself. The horsehair crackled as it ignited and writhed in the bottom of the crucible. Wisps of grey smoke spiralled up to be trapped in mid-air by forces radiating from the talismans, turning the fumes back on themselves. As the seconds went by, the smoke thickened into an opaque form, dancing above the crucible.

The candle and tripod were removed, and replaced by a small glass flask. The two sorcerers begun to move the talismans in unison, adjusting the play of forces. The smoke-shape spiralled down, like a vortex, into the flask. Quickly, Levannue pressed a cork stopper in place.

"That went smoothly enough." Levannue said in satisfaction. "I think we can finish for today. Could you tidy up."

It was an order, not a request and Jemeryl hastened to obey. Levannue sat at a nearby desk and began writing. For a while the two worked in silence.

"Excuse me ma'am. Where do these go?" Jemeryl asked.

Levannue looked at the bone talismans in the palm of Jemeryl's hand. She picked a worn leather bag from the top of her desk. "Put them in here first. They then go in my private storage-chest. You'll need this." She snapped a long brass key free from a ring at her belt.

The chest stood on the floor at the back of the room. It was of modest size, barely three feet long, made of solid oak and mounted with thick iron bands. In it were kept items deemed too dangerous to be left lying around. The key rarely left Levannue's belt.

Jemeryl opened the heavy lid and glanced inside cautiously, well able to imagine the sort of items Levannue might need to keep secure. Her face twisted in a shocked grimace. The contents seemed unexceptional to her sight, and very, very deadly to her extended sorcerer senses. She held the talismans at arm's length and let them drop into the chest. Her hand reached for the lid, about to pull it shut, when she froze. Lying at the back, half hidden by a pale blue cloth, was a memory chalice.

Jemeryl glanced over her shoulder. Levannue was engrossed in her work, but she would certainly notice if an attempt were made to probe the chalice. Jemeryl turned back to the chest. The lock was protected by magic. It would be impossible to pick, but there was another option.

She flicked the cord of the leather bag forward so it fouled the lock mechanism - an event that might be construed as an accident if it were discovered. Holding the lid firm, to stop it slamming, Jemeryl let the protruding tang of the lock press down on the cord, squashing it double into the mechanism. No click was heard, and the catch did not engage. Jemeryl stood and stepped away. Only close inspection would show the narrow gap between lid and base.

Levannue accepted the return of the key, without looking up from her notes. "Thank you, Jemeryl."

"Is there anything else, ma'am?"

"No. If you've finished you may go."

"Yes, ma'am."

Jemeryl closed the door behind her and walked down the hallway. It exited onto a small paved courtyard; airless and stifling in the late afternoon, as the flagstones gave back the heat they had absorbed from the scorching midday sun.

Two other doorways opened onto the courtyard. One was the route Levannue would take when she left. The other, Jemeryl knew from experience, was certainly locked, but there was an enclosed porch surrounding it, which would be an ideal hiding place. A stone bench was carved on the inner wall, with gargoyles peering through the armrests. Jemeryl sat and swung her legs up, so they would not be visible from the courtyard.

She did not have long to wait. Soon brisk footsteps tapped across the flagstones, and a thin shadow flitted passed the entrance to the porch. Jemeryl tried to look relaxed, as if merely waiting in the shade for a friend to finish work. The subterfuge was not necessary. The footsteps continued without interruption. Jemeryl peered around corner, just in time to see Levannue's back disappear into the doorway opposite. The last echo of her footsteps faded into silence.

Jemeryl slipped back to the room. She looked around. Levannue's notes were now in a neat pile on the desk, and the chair had been pushed underneath. Otherwise, nothing was changed. The lock on the chest was still fouled by the cord, and the lid opened easily.

The chalice inside had twin S-shaped handles. It was a style typical of two centuries before. Jemeryl sat back on her heels, holding the chalice in her cupped hands. It was scratched, stained and dented - just as if it had been pulled from the sea with a half-drowned sorcerer. To the ungifted eye, it was unremarkable, but beneath its casting the chalice was a tight ball of memories.

Gently, Jemeryl teased them apart, picking at the strands of information. The shadow of a name hung loose, stamped with the original owner's claim to possession. A few deft moves brought it clear and a name fell into view - Lorimal of the Coven.

Jemeryl pumped her fist in triumph. At last, she had evidence even Bramell could not deny and time in hand. The chalice nestled in the crook of Jemeryl's arm while she peered into the chest, wondering what other items of interest she might find. The jumble of forces made it difficult to perceive the contents clearly. The demands it placed on her concentration meant she did not hear the sound of the door opening quietly behind her.

"How dare you!" Levannue's voice rang out, crisp with outrage.

Jemeryl twisted about, nearly loosing her balance. Only an elbow braced against the chest saved her from ending up sprawled on the floor. Levannue stood in the centre of the doorway, arms folded. Two assistant witches peered over her shoulder, enraptured horror and surprise clear on their faces. Levannue's expression was far harder to read.

Jemeryl rose from her awkward crouch and waited in silence as the trio left the doorway and advanced towards her. Levannue strode forward confidently; the other two bustled after her. The witches were clearly taking a huge amount of enjoyment from being scandalised. If they were involved in a conspiracy, it was a wonderful piece of acting on their part. Far more likely that they were naive dupes who Levannue was using to back up her account of events. Having got over her initial surprise, Jemeryl was not worried - the witches testimony could work both ways.

Levannue took the chalice from Jemeryl's hands, and examined it before speaking again. "Are you going to explain this to me, or shall we go straight to Bramell?" Her voice held no trace of fear or doubt.

Jemeryl was momentarily perturbed by Levannue's composure. Then the sight of the chalice reassured her - whatever the plan was, Levannue had miscalculated. Once the evidence was laid before Bramell, the charade would be over. Until then silence was best. Even with the other two as witnesses it would not be safe to mention the Guardian's warrant and run the risk of Levannue getting to Tevi first.

Levannue spoke again. "I wonder if you realise just how much trouble you're in. You've been very stupid."

The malicious edge stung Jemeryl into responding. "I was going to say the same thing to you."

"Impertinence and bravado aren't going to help your case one bit."

"My case!" Jemeryl looked at the older sorcerer incredulously. "Oh, come on. It's too late to play games."

"What do you mean by that?"

"You know what I mean." Jemeryl was starting to feel angry.

"You're talking as if I'm the one in trouble." Levannue spoke as if affronted.

"And you are." Jemeryl snapped back.

"You have the nerve to threaten me!"

"Why did she say that?" one of the witches asked, puzzled.

"She thinks she has something up her sleeve." Levannue sounded triumphant.

"Oooooh." Both witches were thrilled. Levannue must have selected them for their stupidity.

Levannue carried on. "I'm not about to be intimidated by a young fool. I've got an old iron collar around here somewhere."

"Yes, that would be sensible ma'am." "She might try to run away." The witches spoke in unison.

"I won't." Jemeryl said, scornful of the pantomime.

"I'm not going to take chances."

Levannue got awkwardly to her knees and put the chalice in the chest. After turning over a few items at the bottom, she dug out a collar. One of the witches helped her back to her feet. The other shut the lid of the chest, making a point of pushing down firmly with both hands and looking smugly at Jemeryl.

It was demeaning, but there was no point wasting more time by protesting. The collar would not stop her speaking to Bramell and putting an end to the charade. Jemeryl's face showed her contempt, but she made no move to resist. In her mind, she was already planning the forthcoming meeting, and rehearsing her arguments. Only when the collar in Levannue's hands was about to close around her neck was she hit by alarm. There was a sudden awareness that something was terribly wrong. The true nature of the collar was disguised - it certainly was not iron.

Jemeryl opened her mouth to shout but the words never came. The collar snapped shut and a fog descended on her mind. She was caught in a daze. Her thoughts remained clear, but the world seemed lost. Reality slipped through her fingers. The theft of her senses left Jemeryl's mind adrift, with only the bitter knowledge that, after all her promises to Tevi, she had allowed herself to become ensnared.

Continued in chapter 8.

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