‘Yes, Magistra,’ he replied.
‘No, you probably don’t. But one day you will, Waylian. Shall we be off?’
Waylian nodded. He had no idea where they were going or why, but he’d long ago learned not to argue over such matters.
They made their way down through the tower to the Great Library, where the door was opened for them by two Raven Knights. Waylian had never known those doors to be closed, day or night, but as he entered he understood why. The three remaining Archmasters were waiting within. Other than the Archmasters, the library was empty of students or scholars. It seemed a much larger and more imposing place when it was empty.
Drennan Folds and old Crannock Marghil sat at separate, but adjacent desks. Drennan was clearly none too pleased to be kept waiting. Lucen Kalvor leaned against a bookshelf, his face impassive, though he watched Waylian and Gelredida as they entered and never took his eyes from them. Waylian suddenly thought back to his part in Lucen’s recent blackmail, and wondered whether the young Archmaster might hold a grudge. Only time would tell, but he’d be sure to refuse any food or drink Lucen ever offered him.
Magistra Gelredida stopped before the desks, standing and regarding them all as though she were about to start one of her lessons. For his part, Waylian hung back and listened.
‘Well?’ asked Drennan, his mismatched eyes glaring in annoyance. ‘Why have you called us? And to here of all places?’
‘Oh, I like it here,’ answered Gelredida, and she glanced around the huge library as though she had built it with her own withered hands. ‘The Crucible Chamber can be so … stuffy, don’t you find? I also thought it was fitting since Archmaster Crabbe was Keeper of the Books, and his tragic death means he can’t be with us.’
Waylian doubted any of that was true. It was more likely Gelredida wanted to meet somewhere she would have all her powers of magick available to hand. Meeting in the Crucible Chamber where her power was nulled had almost cost all their lives.
‘It is a pleasant change,’ said Crannock, his weak voice cracking as he spoke. ‘But why the insistence on summoning us here?’
‘Why?’ There was scorn in Gelredida’s voice. ‘The Khurtas are almost at our door. There is no time to waste and much needs to be done.’
‘Agreed. We had best seek out candidates to stand as Archmasters,’ said Drennan. ‘Two places need to be filled.’
‘There is no time,’ she replied. ‘Preparations for the siege must begin immediately. We cannot squander what days remain on needless protocols.’ Drennan made to argue but she held up a gloved finger. It was enough to silence him, and Waylian wondered if his illegitimate son was still squirrelled away in that cellar, the threat of murder still hanging over him like a dangling blade.
‘What, might we ask, needs to be done?’ said Crannock, his ancient jowls quivering in annoyance.
Gelredida looked up to Lucen who stood silently in the shadow of the bookcase. ‘Archmaster Kalvor, you shall be the new Keeper of Ravens. When the war begins the magisters of this tower will be key to us winning it. In turn they must be protected by our Raven Knights. You will take command of them, make sure they understand the importance of their charges’ survival. There may still be elements unsympathetic to our aims; Ferenz and Nero’s betrayal could run deep. I trust you can root out any disloyalty?’
Lucen Kalvor raised an eyebrow. ‘I’m sure I can manage that,’ he said.
‘Excellent,’ smiled Gelredida. ‘Then we must begin to muster the Caste. Crannock, you will take charge of all current magisters — tutors, scholars, retired veterans. They respect you. They will follow you.’
‘Er … I …’ said Crannock, but before he could argue she’d moved on.
‘Drennan, you will take charge of all apprentices and neophytes. As of now they have full Caste privileges and will be allowed to practise magicks within the walls of the tower.’
Surprisingly, Drennan nodded his assent. ‘Very well. Although many of them have already left the city. Most of our current intake are from wealthy families; on hearing the city was under threat those families did all they could to convey their young back home.’
‘Then you will have to make do, Drennan,’ chided the Red Witch. ‘You’re a resourceful man, I’m sure you’ll manage.’
‘I’m sure I will, as long as I have every apprentice available.’ He glanced at Waylian, who had been unable to drag his gaze away from Drennan’s scarred and milky eye. ‘Will I be taking charge of yours?’
Gelredida smiled faintly, as though Drennan had made a poor joke. ‘I’m afraid I will require Master Grimm at my side at all times. But he’s not the most gifted of students, so it’s doubtful you’ll miss him.’
‘Not the most gifted?’ said Drennan, looking at Waylian once more. ‘We all saw what he did to Marshal Ferenz. They’re still scrubbing the floor clean in the Crucible Chamber.’
‘An accident,’ said Gelredida, as though they were talking about a minor mishap. ‘Grimm tapped into the Veil by mistake. It happens.’ Drennan opened his mouth to speak, but Gelredida raised that finger once more. The Archmaster was cowed like a browbeaten husband. ‘If that’s everything, I’m sure we all have much work to do.’
None of the Archmasters spoke, and Waylian began to wonder just how much power his mistress had over them. It took all his will to stifle a smile as the three men made their way from the library as though dismissed from one of Gelredida’s classes.
‘What would you like me to do, Magistra?’ Waylian asked when they were finally alone.
She looked at him and offered a smile. The expression was almost motherly. Waylian wasn’t sure whether to be comforted or horrified by that.
‘Get some rest for now. There will be much to do in the coming days and sleep may be something you’ll grow to miss.’ With that, she walked away.
Waylian took a moment to glance around the huge library. He wondered if there might be some hidden tome somewhere that could be of use; that hid the secret to their victory over Amon Tugha. For a fleeting moment he thought he might look for it, as though he could make a hero of himself, as though he might single-handedly turn back the tide.
What on earth are you thinking, Grimm? Don’t you remember what she said about mountains and rivers? And flowers? You’re definitely one of the flowers. Maybe even a bloody weed. Best do as you’re bid and get some rest.
He turned to leave through the huge doors and stopped. Something in the corner of his eye had caught his attention. Waylian made his way to the massive window, its panes covered in myriad coloured patterns.
Through a frame of clear glass he could see far to the north.
All along the horizon rose a black pall of smoke.
It was as if the world burned.
FIFTY-ONE
The palace gardens of Skyhelm were empty but for Janessa, Kaira and the priest. No one else had wanted to attend, but Janessa didn’t mind. No one else needed to be here, and it was doubtful he would have cared anyway.
Odaka Du’ur lay in the ground, his body wrapped in a sheet of silk. The Father of Killers had managed to do her harm after all, though not in the manner he had intended. Odaka had died trying to give Janessa a chance to escape.
There had been little time to study the proper burial rituals of Equ’un. So, this had seemed the only suitable way. Odaka had served her father for many years and it was only fitting that the funerary rites of the Free States were observed at his burial.
She had picked the gardens for his interment to always have him close, at least in spirit. Now Odaka was gone who would advise her? Chancellor Durket? It was unlikely he could muster an opinion on anything other than what to have for dinner. Seneschal Rogan? The more Janessa learned about that man, the less she trusted him.