‘Avaggdu,’ he said again.
This time as he stared at his reflection a bead of blood blossomed from his eye. The mirror bowed, bending his image, twisting it into something foul.
There was a bang at his chamber door.
Waylian jumped, quickly raising his sleeve to dab away the blood on his face. The feeling of nausea abated only to be replaced by one of revulsion at what he had done. This wasn’t right. There was an overwhelming sense of wrongness about the whole thing, but then wasn’t that what magick was all about?
Another rap at the door. Someone was insistent.
‘Coming,’ he said, rising from his desk and moving to the door.
He opened it, half expecting Gelredida come with another task for him, so the two men who stood there were something of a surprise.
The first one Waylian recognised. He was short, with a mop of grey curly hair. Nero Laius had an open and friendly smile, so unlike most of the other Archmasters.
‘Hello, Waylian,’ said the Master Diviner. ‘May we come in?’
‘Yes,’ Waylian replied, stepping aside and allowing the two men to enter his chamber.
The second figure had to stoop below the lintel as he entered, his black armoured shoulders almost touching each side of the doorframe. He held his helmet in the crook of his arm, revealing a stern face topped with a shock of short white hair. As he strode by his eyes surveyed Waylian, then the desk, his bed, the window, the ceiling — scanning the room as though for any sign of danger.
‘You’ve met Marshal Ferenz, of course.’
Waylian tried to swallow but he found his throat was drying up with each passing moment. ‘Er … no, I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure.’ The man didn’t offer a hand to shake, and Waylian wasn’t about to offer his own. Of course he had heard of the Marshal of the Raven Knights, but thankfully never had the need to speak with him.
‘Please sit down, Waylian,’ Nero said, sitting himself in the chair beside Waylian’s desk.
The only place left was his bed, and Waylian obediently sat on it. His feather mattress had never felt so uncomfortable. For his part, Marshal Ferenz stood in front of the door and glared.
‘Er … what can I do for you, Archmaster?’
Nero smiled at that, as though Waylian had just made a joke. Ferenz didn’t seem to find it particularly funny.
‘It’s more about what I can do for you, Waylian,’ Nero replied.
Waylian’s eyes flitted from Nero to Ferenz, from the amiable to the imposing. ‘I don’t understand, Archmaster.’
‘Oh, come now, young Waylian. Surely Magistra Gelredida has told you what an interest the Crucible had taken in you? It’s common knowledge you’re a student with great potential. A talented prospect for the future.’
‘Er … no. She’s not mentioned it.’
Nero looked shocked. ‘I can’t believe she would keep such a thing to herself. But then she’s never really seen eye to eye with the Crucible, has she Ferenz?’ The Marshal of the Raven Knights shook his granite head. ‘Well, if she’s not told you what promise you’ve shown these past weeks, please allow me to rectify the situation. Word is you’re a student of great diligence, admired by your peers and tutors alike. You helped defeat a great evil at the Chapel of Ghouls, one that might have destroyed us all. You’ve travelled north to the Kriega Mountains taking word to the Wyvern Guard so that they might travel in defence of the city, at great risk to your person. Overcome much adversity, risked your life for the innocent citizens of the Free States. You’re a hero, Waylian, and it’s about time you were recognised as such.’
‘Thank you,’ said Waylian, doubtfully. ‘But I’m sure Magistra Gelredida appreciates me in her own way.’
‘Oh, I’m sure she does. That’s why she’s got you traipsing halfway across the city on this errand or that.’
How could he know about that? Waylian’s tasks for the Magistra were supposed to be kept secret.
‘They’re not so much errands …’ said Waylian, desperate to cover his tracks.
‘Come now, Waylian.’ Nero sat forward in his chair, those little eyes of his holding Waylian in their steely glare. ‘I am the Keeper of the Ravens. Master of Divination. There is nothing that happens in the Tower of Magisters, or indeed the city, which I do not know about. Isn’t that right, Ferenz?’
The Marshal of the Raven Knights nodded his head, his eyes glaring at Waylian all the while.
‘I can assure you, Archmaster, there is nothing untoward-’
Nero held up his hands, and Waylian stopped.
‘I’m sure there isn’t, Waylian. I’m sure it’s all completely innocent. Harmless chores for your mistress. But then … what if it isn’t?’
‘I don’t understand,’ Waylian said. But part of him did understand. Part of him knew exactly what Nero was talking about.
‘You’re loyal, and that’s to be admired. In fact it’s one of the reasons you’re so well thought of amongst the Archmasters. But sometimes blind loyalty can be used against you. Isn’t that right, Ferenz?’ The Marshal made no move to reply. ‘Sometimes you lose focus. Sometimes by the time you realise what has happened you’re in far too deep to get yourself out again. Do you get my meaning?’
Waylian nodded, even though he wasn’t exactly sure he did. Was Nero suggesting Gelredida was putting him in danger? He already knew that, but it was for the good of the city. Wasn’t it?
‘I understand, Archmaster. But I can assure you I’ve just been sent out on a few harmless tasks. Nothing that need concern you or the other Archmasters.’
‘Of course,’ Nero replied. ‘But how long do you think these “tasks” will remain harmless? You’re not the first apprentice Gelredida has sent running off to do her bidding. She’s had apprentices do her dirty work before and it rarely ends well for them, does it, Ferenz?’ The Marshal shook his huge head. ‘I’m only thinking of you, Waylian. Which is why I’d like us to be friends. It’s why I’d like you to work for me.’
‘I … I don’t … I can’t …’
‘Oh, but you can.’ That smile again. A smile that seemed to put Waylian at his ease. What was it with this man? ‘Gelredida is in her twilight years. Her sky is darkening, whereas mine is just beginning to grow bright. Do you want to align yourself with the future, or be dragged down by the past?’
‘I … er …’
‘You have great things ahead of you, Waylian. You will have powerful friends. Don’t be blinded by your loyalty to one old woman. She is a danger to you. A danger to us, to everyone. You must not let her destroy you as she has done so many others.
‘No … I can’t …’
‘Yes, you can, Waylian. You must.’ He was locked in that gaze now. Those eyes boring into him. Soothing him yet compelling him all at once.
Nero was right — Gelredida was the past. If Waylian ever wanted to make anything of himself he had to side with the Archmasters.
You’re being used, Grimmy. By Gelredida, by Nero, by everyone. You’re a useless pawn in a shitty game. Stand up for yourself for once you spineless son of a …
‘No,’ Waylian replied. ‘I’m sorry, Archmaster, but I just can’t help you.’
Nero sat back in the chair, a look of dissatisfaction clouding his once-smiling face. ‘That’s unsatisfactory, Waylian. Very unsatisfactory indeed. I thought we could be friends. I thought we could help one another, but obviously that’s not the case. Marshal, please explain how important it is that Waylian does as we ask.’
Ferenz took a clanking step forward, massive in his black armour; each plate intricately crafted to resemble a raven’s wing. He stared down at Waylian, his face looking as if it had been hewn from stone with a daemonic chisel.
‘Listen here, you little shit,’ he said, as though barking at soldiers on the parade ground. ‘We don’t have time to fuck around with the likes of you.’ He leaned over Waylian, his chin jutting forward, the veins in his neck straining against the muscular flesh. ‘The Archmaster has made you a very generous offer. More generous than I’d ever give you. It would serve you well to accept it.’