‘This Familiar,’ said Hirad. ‘What is it when it’s not a cuddly cat?’ Ilkar looked askance. ‘I don’t think you could ever accuse it of being “cuddly”, Hirad. You’re lucky it missed you with those claws back in the village . . . Look, about that incident—’
‘Oh, Gods, here we go.’ Hirad placed his goblet on the ground and folded his arms. ‘All right, let’s have it, I shouldn’t antagonise him, he’s too powerful, right?’
Ilkar eyed Denser. The Dark Mage hadn’t raised his head from the book. The elf cut his voice to barely more than a whisper.
‘That’s pretty much the size of it, yes. Now listen . . . and don’t sigh like that, this is important. Not only is he too powerful, although I concede you won that last round, he’s too central to this whole thing for you to pick fights with him.’
‘I wasn’t picking a fight,’ hissed Hirad.
‘Will you let me finish?’ Ilkar’s ears pricked in irritation. ‘Officially, now that we have all the knowledge - you know, the words and the whereabouts of the catalysts - we could ditch Denser and try this out ourselves. But as I said the other day, he’s the only one with the teaching to cast Dawnthief with any chance of success at all. Do you follow me?’
‘What do you think?’
It was Ilkar’s turn to sigh. He briefly put a hand over his face. ‘Right. Umm, when you practise alone with a sword, it’s with a dummy opponent, yes?’
‘A hanging sack or maybe a mirror.’ Hirad shrugged.
‘But you don’t know that the moves you’re trying will work until a fight, do you?’
‘I can’t argue with that.’
‘And if you didn’t practise them at all, you’d have no control over them, would you?’
‘What is this, a test?’
‘Just answer the question,’ said Ilkar. ‘I’m trying to put it in terms you’ll understand.’
‘Fair enough.’ Hirad shifted, took another gulp of his wine. ‘No, Ilkar, I’d have no control over them, and what’s more, I wouldn’t even think of trying them in a fight. Satisfied?’
‘Yes, and it’s the same with spell-casting. Exactly the same.’ Ilkar moved so that he was squatting in front of Hirad. ‘If I try to cast a spell I haven’t practised, it stands a good chance of not working, maybe even going wrong, and that can be fatal. Denser has trained all of his life in the casting of Dawnthief, so he knows in theory how to say the words, shape the mana and so forth. There’s no guarantee it’ll work in a live situation but, like you and your training, he’ll be confident of success and he’ll find out when push comes to shove. Do you understand now?’
‘Yes. So I won’t kill him.’ Hirad leaned in close to Ilkar. ‘But I will not have him risking himself that stupidly if he is so bloody crucial to all this. And I will not have him take chances with the memories of my friends!’ Hirad’s voice was audible all across the ruin. The noise in the workshop stopped, Denser looked up from his reading and Richmond paused in the act of hanging a pot of water over the now resurgent fire.
After a brief stare in which Hirad saw Denser smile thinly in Ilkar’s direction, the Xeteskian buried his head once again.
‘Anyway, so what about this Familiar, then?’
‘Well, it’s likely to be some kind of semi-intelligent winged demon, or so I’ve been taught.’ Ilkar gave a slight shrug. ‘That’s the only reason I can think of for Denser being so anxious that we don’t see it out of cat-form.’ Hirad’s face was completely blank. The elf closed his eyes. ‘You may have learnt about Travers, Coldheart, but in all the years I’ve known you, you’ve clearly never listened to a word I’ve said, have you?’
‘Well, most of the time you were talking about magic and all that rubbish.’ Hirad grinned.
‘You seem pretty keen to learn about it now,’ returned the mage.
‘It’s important now.’
‘It was important then!’ snapped Ilkar.
‘Could you two talk about who-knows-what later?’ Richmond had joined them. ‘I’m interested in this thing of Denser’s.’
‘Right.’ Ilkar glanced over at Denser again. The Dark Mage was apparently paying them no attention whatsoever. ‘Put simply, Denser’s Familiar is a conjuration similar in construction to the girl you found through the rip. Where it differs is in what it can do and how it survives. As soon as it’s created, a Familiar has to meld its mind with its master.’
‘Has to what?’ Hirad poured another goblet of wine and offered the skin to Ilkar and Richmond.
‘You’d have to ask Denser, though I doubt he’d tell you. A Familiar is a very Xeteskian thing, it comes from their association with the demon dimension. Anyway, the result is that they share part of each other’s consciousness. They are a pairing that can only be broken by the death of one or the other.’ Ilkar paused to sip his wine. ‘A Familiar has its own brain and can reason and act on its own initiative, but it will always be at the beck and call of its master and will never go against him. It’s the kind of unswerving obedience you don’t get anywhere else.’
‘So what’s the purpose of having one?’ asked Richmond.
Ilkar blew out his cheeks. ‘That rather depends on the individual mage. In Denser’s case it clearly acts as a guard, a companion, a scout, a message-bearer and, I should think, a powerful offensive weapon.’ He indicated the stairs to the workshop. ‘Right now, it’ll be looking for anything that’s of interest, and no doubt it’ll tell Denser all about it later.’
‘They talk?’ Richmond frowned.
‘No, as far as I know, they don’t talk. But close to, they can communicate. It’s a kind of rudimentary telepathy,’ said Ilkar. ‘I mean, they can converse over a reasonable distance but it would be very draining.’
‘So what does it actually look like?’ Hirad nodded in the direction of the hole in the floor. The noise from below had stopped, at least temporarily.
‘I can’t say for certain, but they have an aura that can scare people rigid, almost literally. Imagine your own picture of a demon - you know, ugly with wings and a tail - and you probably won’t be far wrong.’
‘And what happens to it if Denser dies?’ Richmond finished his wine and reached for the skin. Hirad prodded it towards him with a toe.
‘It would die too. It can’t survive without him.’
‘Why not?’
‘Something to do with how it lives, what it eats and the twinning of their minds, but I’m not clear on the details.’
‘And what happens to Denser if the Familiar dies?’ asked Hirad.
‘Pain,’ said Denser. The Dark Mage had put the book down and was standing up. He brushed himself down. ‘Pain like someone reaching their hands inside your skull and squeezing your brain.’ He walked towards them, acting out his words with a clenching of his fists. ‘Luckily, they are very difficult to kill.’ As he spoke, the cat appeared at the top of the stairs.
‘I wonder if it knew we were talking about it,’ mused Richmond.
‘Oh, yes,’ confirmed Denser, his face bleak and serious. ‘It knew very well.’ The cat jumped into Denser’s robe and snuggled against his chest.
On the fire, the pot of water was steaming away.
‘Hot drink, anyone?’ Richmond asked.
‘Yes, please,’ said Ilkar. ‘Tell me something else, Denser. What did you make of that place?’
‘How do you mean?’
‘Never mind that they walked, why were they all dead in the first place?’
‘I’ll tell you why,’ said Hirad. ‘You saw the searchings and burning. The Dragons got there and they came to rule. That’s why.’
‘Gods alive,’ breathed Talan.
‘And if you’re right,’ said Denser, ‘just think of the consequences if the Dragons got here.’
‘I told you,’ said Hirad quietly. ‘And you wouldn’t listen.’