‘Once again, welcome, Erienne Malanvai,’ said the Captain. ‘You must be hungry.’
Erienne let her eyes travel over the tray that sat on a low table between them, surprised at the quality of its content.
‘How dare you offer me that, when the muck you served up for my boys is hardly fit for a dog, let alone frightened young children?’ she said. ‘They will each have a plate of this now.’
She could sense the Captain’s smile. ‘You heard her. Fresh lamb and vegetables for the boys.’
‘Yes, sir.’ The door closed.
‘I am not unreasonable,’ said the Captain.
Erienne’s face was pure disgust. ‘You have taken two innocent children from their homes in the middle of the night and locked them terrified in a cold tower. You have kept me from them and fed them muck I wouldn’t give to my pigs. Don’t talk to me about reason.’ Still refusing to look at him, she selected some meat and vegetables and ate in silence. She poured herself a glass of wine and drank staring at the fire. All the while, the Captain watched and waited.
‘So ask,’ she said, placing her empty plate on the table. ‘I doubt I have any secrets from you.’
‘That would certainly make things simpler,’ said the Captain. ‘I am glad you are being so co-operative.’
‘Don’t feel it’s out of any fear of you or your band of lame monkeys,’ Erienne said haughtily. ‘I care for my sons and any way that I can help them that does not compromise the Dordovan College is fine by me.’
‘Excellent.’ The Captain refilled his glass. ‘I do wish you’d look at me.’
‘To do so would make me nauseous. To utter your name is an affront to my College and to speak with you is tantamount to heresy. Now get on with your questions. In an hour I want to see my sons again.’ Erienne kept her face turned to the fire, drawing comfort from its warmth and colour.
‘And so you shall, Erienne, so you shall.’ The Captain stretched out his legs towards the fire; a pair of scuffed and age-cracked brown leather riding boots moved into Erienne’s vision. ‘Now then, I am becoming very disturbed by the extent to which so-called dimensional investigation and research is damaging the fabric of Balaia.’
‘Well, you’ve clearly been very busy in here, haven’t you?’ said Erienne after a pause.
‘Clever remarks will get you hurt,’ said the Captain, his tone leaving her in no doubt that he meant it.
‘I was trying to say that very few people have any knowledge of the existence of dimensional magics, never mind the potential for their danger.’
‘No.’ The Captain reached down and scratched his left leg, Erienne glimpsing his greying hair, thinning from the crown. ‘Contrary to popular belief, I believe in the value of magic in the right place. But I also understand its dangers because I have taken the time to find out for myself. Meddling with dimensions could, I believe, destabilise the world balance that currently exists.’
‘You’re talking to the wrong College,’ said Erienne.
‘Well, Xetesk mages are just a little harder to come by,’ said the Captain testily.
‘I’d love to say I was sorry,’ retorted Erienne. And at last, she looked at him. He kept his grey hair close-cropped and his beard, which still held flecks of brown, was similarly well trimmed. Skin was sagging under his eyes and his red-patched cheeks and nose were evidence of a reliance on the bottle. He was getting fat, too, as he breasted middle age, a fact which his leather coat and shirt failed to hide. He ignored her sudden attention.
‘But Septern was a Dordovan mage.’
‘We’ve already established that you’ve done your homework.’ Erienne refilled her glass. ‘It also no doubt told you that he’s been presumed dead for about three hundred years.’
‘And there the information ends?’ said the Captain. ‘I was rather hoping a Dordovan Lore Mage like yourself could fill in a few gaps.’
‘And now the misunderstanding is yours,’ said Erienne. ‘Because you assume we have secret texts.’
‘But Septern was a Dordovan mage,’ repeated the Captain.
‘Yes, he was. And a genius. And so far ahead of his time that we still haven’t managed to re-create all of his work.’ Erienne plucked some grapes from the fruit bowl and ate them, spitting the stones into her hand and throwing them into the fire.
The Captain leaned forwards, frowning. ‘But surely he reported his findings. I understood that to be a requirement of every mage.’
‘Septern didn’t live by those rules.’ Erienne sighed as the Captain’s frown deepened. ‘Look, you need to understand. Septern was a throwback to the days before the Colleges split.’
‘So he wasn’t just ahead of his time, he was behind it as well.’ The Captain smiled, pleased at his own joke, revealing lines of brown, rotting teeth set in flame-red gums.
‘Yes, I suppose so. The point is, his mind was able to accept lore at the very base level, and that let him read and understand Dordovan, Xeteskian and Julatsan lores with varying degrees of success. It made him brilliant but it also made him arrogant. He lived outside of the College, rarely reported on his work, made only cryptic logs of his research and not all of those logs are in our library. Xetesk has some, others are lost at his house - assuming he wrote anything at all about some of the things we know he was capable of.’ Erienne took a sip of wine. ‘Could I have some water, please?’
‘Certainly.’ The Captain rose and pulled the door open. The sound of a man dragging his feet to attention echoed in the corridor outside. ‘Water and a glass. Now.’ He returned to his seat. ‘An interesting history. Of course, I am aware of his house. I have had men at the ruins on several occasions. So tell me, what is the state of your development of dimensional research, and what do you hope to achieve?’
Erienne opened her mouth to speak, then closed it, pondering her answer. It was all too easy. The Captain was nothing like she had been led to believe. That she would hate him for ever for the kidnap of her children was certain, but his behaviour was confusing. Here she sat in a warm room, where she had been fed with good food and asked gentle questions about her College activities. So far he had asked her nothing he couldn’t have found out by knocking on the College’s front door. There had to be more, it was just a question of when he dealt it to her. She had the uneasy feeling she was being softened up for a heavy blow. She determined to keep her mind sharp.
‘What we know of Septern tells us that he achieved a great deal in terms of dimensional magics. He created a stable, self-sustaining portal for travelling between nominated dimensional spaces and we believe he travelled widely - some of his wilder writings suggest as much.
‘Dordover is nowhere near his level of sophistication in dimension doors. We can’t travel, we can’t see in, all we can do is plot other dimensions and chart land and sea features. To progress more quickly, we need Septern’s lost texts because we believe this magic mixes College lores.’
‘And where do you hope this research will take you?’
‘Into other dimensions. To explore, to chart, to meet other races. The possibilities are endless.’ Erienne was enthused in spite of herself.
‘To conquer, to subvert, to rule, to steal.’ The Captain’s tone was hard but not unpleasant.
‘Is that the basis for your concern?’
He inclined his head. ‘I believe we have no place interfering in other dimensions. We have our own and it is difficult enough to control without linking it to other places and times. I see nightmare scenarios where others might invade to avenge what we have done. No one will be safe anywhere because no one will ever know when or where a door might be opened.’
‘All the more reason to complete our research and understanding, ’ said Erienne.
‘Neither of us is naive enough to believe that Dordover and Xetesk research this magic to benefit the population of Balaia, are we? I would hate to think you were opening doors which you were then powerless to close.’ The Captain scratched an ear. ‘Tell me, is Xetesk further advanced than Dordover?’