A Crown Imperilled

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Light exploded.

The blinding display was accompanied by a thunderous boom that caused both Amirantha and Sandreena to flinch and fall back a step. Magnus stood outlined in the brilliance of an oval of light that had formed before him, his hand in front of his face, shielding his eyes.

‘What is that?’ asked the warlock.

The white-haired magician turned and said, ‘It’s some sort of an energy matrix. I attempted to probe the Sven-ga’ri to see if it was in any way different to those I’ve seen in the Peaks of the Quor.’ He pointed to the blinding light. ‘This is unexpected.’

The two members of the ruling council of the Pantathians, Tak’ka and Dak’it, who had observed the magician’s examination of the alien beings called Sven-ga’ri, were also partially blinded by the light.

Magnus blinked as his vision struggled to return to normal. He turned to the two Pantathians and asked, ‘Have you seen anything like that before?’

‘Never,’ said Tak’ka. ‘The Sven-ga’ri use emotions to communicate; we believe they may in part be responsible for the changes in those of us who live here compared to those who do not.’

Magnus nodded. The story of these alien creatures was much the same as he had discovered in the Peaks of the Quor; ordered by their Dragon Lord masters to take care of these beings, the Pantathians like the Quor had diligently discharged that duty.

Magnus looked at the brilliant white oval. ‘I think I’ll need to examine this for a while. I have an idea what it might be.’ He turned to Amirantha and Sandreena. ‘I think it might be wise if you two returned to Sorcerer’s Isle and spoke with my father.’ He took out a Tsurani translocation orb and glanced around. After a moment he nodded to himself and began a spell, holding the device before him. It took a few minutes, but then he held out the orb to Amirantha. ‘I’ve programmed this to return here. Father is very powerful, but there are a few things he can’t do, such as reach a location he’s never seen before. I don’t need that to get home. Will you please tell him?’

‘Tell him what?’ asked Sandreena.

Magnus smiled and it was one of the few times either of them had seen him do that. ‘Why, tell him everything,’ he said with a chuckle. Then he said to Tak’ka, ‘Might I ask for a few things?’

‘What do you require?’ asked the elder of the two Pantathians. The subtleties of his race’s expressions were becoming known to Magnus and he smiled. ‘Tea if you have it please, water if not. And perhaps a cushion upon which I might sit. I suspect I will be here a while studying this construction.’

Amirantha, Warlock of the Saltumbria, took the Tsurani transport orb. ‘Will you share your suspicions? In case your father asks.’

Magnus shrugged. ‘These beings are as alien to us as any we have ever encountered. As far as I can see they are composed entirely of energy, albeit in a coherent form. Moreover, they seem to communicate on a profound level of emotions, which may be subtle enough to convey the most nuanced concepts, but for us are incomprehensible. Imagine, if you will, hearing a group of singers, a choir. Most of us might be able to hear the entirety as a lovely blend, perhaps much as we experience our proximity to the Sven-ga’ri as a feeling of calm and wellness. Some of us might be able to listen to one voice or another within the choir, somehow isolating it from the others. But I suspect, to hold to this analogy, the Sven-ga’ri are ten thousand voices and each of them holds the ability to listen to each voice as a choir, yet each alone, simultaneously.’

Amirantha said, ‘Interesting. But what about that oval of light?’

‘I think they are tired of our clumsy attempts to communicate, and are now trying something that may be as alien to them as it is to us. Energy to us is most clearly perceived as light, hence I think they are trying to provide us with a means to communicate.’

‘So, this is …?’

‘I think they are trying to teach me to read, given that I appear deaf to them.’

Amirantha smiled. ‘Well, then, we’ll leave you to your studies and convey all we’ve seen to your father.’ He glanced at Sandreena who moved to stand next to her former lover, putting a hand upon his arm. With a final nod to the Pantathians and Magnus, Amirantha activated the orb and they were gone.

Magnus turned his attention to the oval of light. He was so focused that when he was brought a cushion he barely registered it as he studied the ripples of light, their intensities and colours, subtle within the larger oval of white. When his tea arrived he did not acknowledge it, and hours later as he studied the oval, it remained untouched.

Magnus found his senses being challenged by a cascade of images. He discovered subtle patterns beginning to emerge as he felt the presence of the Sven-ga’ri, almost a tactile music in his mind, and let his eyes relax, letting the subtle images on the surface of the oval of light play out. After first becoming attuned to the interplay of emotion — mental music as he thought of it — and the faint patterns within the white light, he began to bring his magic to bear.

More than any magician in the history of this world, including even his father Pug, Magnus could unleash torrents of destructive energies that could shatter mountain tops, turn back the tides, or call up winds to topple city towers, but he also could manipulate the finest threads of a tapestry, capture one raindrop in a storm, or move a sleeping kitten across the room without waking it using his mind alone.

As deftly as a seamstress threading the smallest needle with the tiniest thread, he reached out and caressed the energies. Gently he pushed into the matrix and his mind expanded his exploration carefully.

Wonder overcame Magnus as a crystal-like, three-dimensional network of forces revealed itself. He knew he was barely below the surface of the shimmering white oval, yet at this scale the energies appeared monstrously large and complex. It was like floating through a city of ice, but without streets, with buildings arrayed like massive boxes, and in each of those boxes a million pulses of light per second flickered.

Somewhere in all of this was a pattern that would reveal its purpose, and Magnus was prepared to search as long as it took.

He pressed on.

Perceptions shifted and scales expanded and contracted and Magnus felt as if he floating through a vast universe composed of energy. His body sat motionless in the garden created by the Pantathians for the Sven-ga’ri, but he saw himself as physically in this universe. It was as if he flew by will alone through vast spaces, yet he knew those spaces were in reality as small as the space between the tiniest grains of sand on the beach, as small as the space between drops of rain. He reached out with his mind and felt the coursing of energies as they made their way, in this direction or that, up or down, right or left, in a pattern that was always just beyond the edge of his apprehension.

By Magnus’s estimation he had explored only the tiniest portion of the energy field, yet a pattern was slowly beginning to present itself. At first he rejected the idea, believing he was misinterpreting what he was seeing but as time wore on he began to see his comprehension ratified and before long he became certain his theory was borne out.

A deep fatigue overtook him suddenly and a sense of cold and he realized he had no sense of how long he had been exploring inside the energy matrix. To facilitate his exploration, he had created the illusion of a city, with endless basements and sub-levels, buildings that rose to impossible heights, streets without boundaries. He overlaid it on the matrix, giving him a sense of where to start and where he had ended his last probe. In a concession to whim, he even made tiny signs like those hung on taverns, with icons that made it easy for him to know where he was relative to every other part of the matrix he had explored. Behind the ‘entrance’ he had fashioned a market, a place to which he could return and renew his exploration and then deftly withdraw his consciousness. It was as close as he could get to understanding what it was he confronted, this virtual city of energy.

Suddenly he was chilled and wet and shivering. He blinked and realized it was dark. A Pantathian stood above him holding a large canvas cover, protecting him as much as possible from the punishingly cold rain.

Magnus raised his hand to his face and wiped away wetness and felt stubble on his cheek. He looked at the Pantathian and said, ‘How long have I been here?’

The creature apparently didn’t speak the Keshian tongue, but from behind him another voice said, ‘All day, the night, the next day, and this night, without moving.’

Magnus turned and found his body stiff and unresponsive. He saw Tak’ka standing in the rain. The Senior President of the Pantathian nation said, ‘We feared you might have been trapped within by some magic, but were uncertain of how to reach you.’

Groaning a little as he unfolded his legs, Magnus said, ‘You did the right thing, in waiting. My sense of time becomes lost in there, apparently. If felt as if I were there for minutes, perhaps an hour.’ As he stood up his head began to throb. ‘I must be careful when next I venture in.’

‘You discovered something?’

‘I’m not certain. I see a pattern and I have deduced one possible explanation for its existence, yet I am unwilling to declare that judgment sound. More exploration is called for.’

‘Come, rest. You’re obviously chilled and in need of warmth and food.’

‘You are very kind,’ said Magnus. ‘Given so many things, your generosity is unexpected.’

‘We are the caretakers of the Sven-ga’ri, and I fear that whatever is moving out there in the darkness, our charges are at risk. I welcome your strength and knowledge in preserving them.’

Magnus nodded as if agreeing, but already he was beginning to suspect that before this exploration was over, preserving the Sven-ga’ri was the last thing he and his father would wish.

He followed his host inside to warmth and food.

Magnus enjoyed a hot meal and dried his clothing over a small brazier while he bathed. By the time he had donned his now-warm robe, he was already half-asleep. He lay on the sleeping pallet provided and within moments fell into an exhausted sleep.

After resting through most of the night, in the hours before dawn he began to dream.

He floated through the matrix, again, only this time rather than energy he saw solid objects in bright and muted colours, some flickering between the two states, alight from within one moment, dimmed the next. Lines of silver-white, like endless cords, stretched down the broad expanses that intersected between the structures. ‘A city,’ he whispered.

‘An illusion,’ said a voice from behind him.

He turned to see a figure both strange and familiar, a black-bearded man in a black robe, holding a wooden staff. His feet were clad in sandals and around his waist was a simple whipcord rope.

‘Macros,’ he whispered.

‘In a manner of speaking,’ said the phantasm.

Magnus had never met his grandfather, for he had died before Magnus was born, but he had encountered a Dasati upon whom the memories of the dead sorcerer had been bestowed. But the Dasati Macros had been ill, in advanced years, and dying.

Before Magnus now stood Macros in his prime, looking no more than perhaps forty years of age, his manner calm and relaxed, yet he could sense hidden power just below the surface.

‘I’m dreaming,’ said Magnus.

‘Yes,’ answered Macros, ‘but like all dreams, there are avenues into thoughts unexplored open to you. It’s the perfect state in which you are receptive to contact you otherwise might not recognize; and besides, you are impervious to spying now.’

‘Spying?’

The shade of Macros smiled. ‘You have some inkling of those who oppose you, at least in one sense, while in another you have no idea whatsoever what forces are arrayed to destroy you and your father. Time is essential, yet here time is as much an illusion as sight and sound, for we are in the dream.’

He stepped forward until he was next to Magnus, then he reached out, gripped him by the elbow and gently but firmly turned him. ‘Walk with me and we shall discover much, but you will only know what you already know.’

Magnus allowed himself to be compelled in this fashion, but said, ‘I do not understand.’

‘I am not Macros, as I’m sure you’ve already assumed. I am his image, a memory of him made solid and able to converse.’

‘Whose memory?’

‘Kalkin’s, whom you also call Ban-ath.’

‘A memory?’

‘A god’s memory is a powerful things, as is a god’s dream. You are sharing a god’s dream and are speaking with a god’s memory. Let’s move on.’ Macros pointed and suddenly they were rising to one of the lines of energy. Letting go of Magnus’s arm, he said, ‘Grip the line and do not fall too far behind. Even a god has limited control on how lucid a dream may become.’

Magnus reached up when Macros, or his illusion, reached up and suddenly he was being propelled along at incalculable speed, yet felt no sensation of movement, just a blurring of all they passed.

Then Macros said, ‘In a moment, I will tell you to let go. Do not hesitate.’

A moment passed; then Macros said, ‘Let go,’ and Magnus complied at once.

They floated before what appeared to be a monstrous fortress, but one created by a demented mind. It sat upon no ground, so a vast wall stretched out before them in all directions. ‘Let us gain some perspective,’ said Macros, and suddenly the wall shrank to the size of a mere room. ‘In dream, all things are possible; within the matrix, what you saw before approaches the truth.’

Magnus examined the wall. It was apparently made of some sort of red stone, with four doors set in the middle, a single square of stone separating them. Two large windows with red iron bars were placed at forty-five degree angles to the upper corner on either side, so that each section gave the vague impression of a face, two eyes and a mouth. Continuing along the line from the door through each window, the top of the wall featured a turret, with crenels and merlons.

‘It looks like four castles smashed together,’ said Magnus.

‘It does, doesn’t it?’ Macros chuckled. ‘It is an image created for your mind to understand. There is no real-world analogue that would do justice to what this really is.’

‘What is it called?’

‘Many things. The blazing barrier. The fire wall. The terminus. The final barrier.’

‘What function does it serve?’

‘I cannot tell you, for you do not know, and I know only what you know.’

‘So I was aware of this barrier, yet …’

‘Your mind in dream is apprehending what it is you’ve come to understand by inference and deduction. You have not seen the barrier so you have created an image of it, but it may bear no true resemblance to the reality of the barrier. In the end, you will only know when you have reached the barrier.’

‘There are so many questions,’ said Magnus. ‘And yet …’

‘You cannot frame them, because they are the questions your mind has no answers for. You understood when we first met that I was not your grandfather, and that Kalkin dreamed, and the rest. For more answers within your own mind, you will have to seek out answers in the real world. For more answers from Kalkin, well, you will have to seek him out, and as you know from your father’s tales of the Trickster God, even then you may never get answers you can trust.’

Suddenly the image of Macros was gone.

Magnus’s eyes opened and it was dawn.

He sat up and stretched, yawning, knowing that after he had braced himself with food and drink he would again confront the mystery of the energy matrix. Perhaps this time he could reach deep enough to reach this final barrier and then, perhaps, beyond it.

Sandreena and Amirantha were breaking fast when a student approached. ‘Pug has returned and asked that you join him when you’re finished.’

Amirantha looked at Sandreena. ‘You finished?’

She was on her feet before he could complete the question and he rose to follow her. ‘I guess you’ve finished!’

They hurried through the now almost completely rebuilt Villa Beata, passing through large gardens freshly replanted. In the matter of a few minutes they were outside Pug’s office and Sandreena knocked once, then opened the wooden door.

Sandreena and Amirantha had both marvelled at how Pug had refashioned his office since the destruction of the original villa. His last office had been small and dark, with only one window, while this one had a large wall made up entirely of panes of the finest clear glass he could find, further refined with some very subtle magic. When sunlight blazed in, it was cool thanks to the combination of clever design — a duct in the ceiling carried the hot air away — and a little more magic.

Pug said, ‘Good morning. I wish I had good news from the Academy, but at best it’s mixed. What did you and Magnus discover on that island?’

Amirantha had taken to wearing less flamboyant clothing since coming to live at Sorcerer’s Isle, and today was comfortable in a loose-fitting white tunic and dark grey trousers. Sandreena always looked surprisingly delicate for a large, strong woman when not wearing armour. She wore a plain but well made pair of trousers, a loose-fitting blue linen blouse, and a pair of sandals. They took the chairs Pug indicated with a wave of his hand, and Amirantha looked at Sandreena, who nodded, indicating that he should go first.

‘We found Pantathians, Pug, but unlike any we’ve met before according to Magnus.’

‘Really?’ said Pug leaning back in his chair. ‘At this point nothing should surprise me, but say on.’

Sandreena continued, ‘They were hospitable and welcoming despite knowing that you and Magnus had destroyed many of their kin. They seem too — well, gentle is the only way to describe them, though their warriors were valorous when fighting demons.’

‘Demons?’

‘Let me start at the beginning.’ Amirantha began, briefly telling of their travels to the Isle of the Snake Men, then in detail after the battle with the demons.

Sandreena punctuated his narrative with details he missed, and Pug asked a few questions along the way, but after half an hour, the sorcerer felt he had been sufficiently briefed. He asked, ‘Did you see any Serpent Priests?’

‘No,’ said Amirantha. ‘They were mentioned, and I left with the impression they visit their kin from time to time, but as to where they base their operations since you and Magnus destroyed their previous one is a mystery; I didn’t feel it politic at this time to ask the one they call Tak’ka.’

Pug sighed. ‘Well, the good news is we’ve identified the threat. The Serpent Priests are back again. But we don’t know where they are.’ He rose. ‘At least we know they aren’t on that island, which is something.’

Sandreena and Amirantha followed Pug out of his office, through a hallway, and into a large meeting hall, which turned out to be a large covered patio, but otherwise open to the daily breezes of the island. A square table had been placed in the middle, one that could be enlarged in any number of clever ways depending on how many people needed to attend a given meeting.

Seven people were already seated when the three entered. The only familiar face to either of the demon experts was Grand Master Creegan of the Order of the Shield of the Weak, Sandreena’s mentor in the Order.

Pug motioned for Amirantha and Sandreena to take two empty chairs and he remained standing. ‘Those of you who know one another need no introductions. If you do not recognize others, it is best it remain that way, given our current plight. You cannot be made to reveal what you do not need to know.’ He took a deep breath. ‘So far we have identified five well-placed agents of the Conclave who are traitors. I am certain there will be more. Continue to conduct your investigations; trust is scarce right now, use it wisely.’ He motioned to the man closest to him on his right and said, ‘What have you discovered in Roldem?’

The man quickly recounted the efforts that were underway in Roldem to prevent further leaking of information, and to discover who might be behind the actions taken against the Conclave. He finished by saying, ‘At this time we have no more likely suspect than Lord John Worthington. He is either at the top of all actions taken against the interest of both the Crown and the Conclave, or he reports to the ultimate authority.’

Before Pug could move to the next in line, a man sitting farthest from Pug interjected, ‘I know I speak out of turn, Pug, but that is almost the identical report that I have put together concerning Great Kesh. The man who stands out as the most likely suspect is a nephew of the Emperor, Lord Harfum.’

Instantly, Grand Master Creegan said, ‘Sir William Alcorn.’ He looked around the table. ‘It is the same in Rillanon.’

Pug nodded. ‘So, our first priority must be to discover what links these three men.’ He indicated that the first two men should depart, but added, ‘Grand Master Creegan, remain if you would.’

The remaining agents quickly provided Pug with more information on issues pertaining to the attempts to identify possible spies within the Academy as well as in various lesser critical positions of influence and authority. As each finished, Pug nodded and the agent rose and left the table. When the last had departed, Pug turned and looked at the three remaining members of the Conclave.

‘Creegan,’ he said, ‘you’re our eyes and ears in the temples. Anything?’

Sandreena’s former mentor sighed. ‘In truth, not much. If anything the temples are more difficult to infiltrate than even the Conclave, for the gods are very jealous of their domains. Several of the martial orders, however, seem to have been slightly compromised: no ordained member is suspected, but key servants, or lay administrators, have been weeded out as being undependable. Those identified are being questioned.’

‘Which orders?’ Sandreena asked.

‘The more active groups: the Warders, the Hunters, the Arm, and the Hammer.’

Pug seemed to wilt visibly at the list, and Sandreena said, ‘If they infiltrated any significant level of those orders, they are dangerous.’

‘Exceedingly dangerous,’ added Creegan. Seeing that Amirantha didn’t quite follow, he said, ‘Of course, you’d know the gods and perhaps those orders by different names in your homeland.’ He held up his left hand and began ticking off on each finger. ‘The Warders of Law serve Astalon the god of law, the Hunters are followers of Guis-wa the god of forbidden knowledge, the Arm of Vengeance serve Kahooli the Vengeful, and the Hammer serves Tith-Onanka, the war god. Many of these, especially the Arm and the Hunters are almost overt enemies, and would never knowingly work together.’

‘I see, and the Shield?’ Amirantha looked pointedly at Creegan.

‘Our order is one that takes great pains in examining those we employee within the temples; magic is used to determine if those who come to serve have duplicity in their hearts. And unlike some of the other orders, we require our own members to conduct the daily business of the Order, the cooking, cleaning, and maintaining the temples, shrines, and other our places of residence. Some of the other orders do not. The Hammer, and the Hunters, feel that every member must be a warrior-priest, and to concentrate solely on those duties, they hire many to serve who are not of the Order. Therein lies their vulnerability. But even those orders I’d judge lax in selecting members have some safeguards. For infiltrators to be within their ranks would mean some agency of power is masking their duplicity.’

‘Send them messages,’ said Pug. ‘Convince them as best you can to see to their own houses. Bring in the Ishapians if you must.’ He stood up. ‘This meeting is over.’

Creegan said, ‘The other orders will listen to the Ishapians, but they will not like it.’

‘They’ll like seeing their world in ruins at the feet of the Dread even less.’

Creegan glanced at Amirantha, nodded to Sandreena, then turned and departed.

Pug said, ‘Now, if you have that orb Magnus gave you, I’d like to visit this place you speak of and see what he is doing.’

‘Shall we return with you?’ asked Sandreena.

‘No, rest for a few days. You’ve been travelling a great deal. I’ll return with Magnus when it’s time.’

Amirantha retrieved the orb from his tunic pocket and gave it to Pug, who said, ‘See you soon,’ depressed the switch on the side and vanished.

Amirantha yawned. ‘After that meal, I’m in the mood for a nap. Care to join me?’

‘Those days are long over, you fraud,’ Sandreena said. Then she smiled. ‘Rest, and I’ll see you for dinner if you’d like.’

‘I would like that a great deal,’ he said and was surprised to find he meant it. ‘Dinner then.’

She turned and walked away, and he watched her go and thought to himself that of all the women he had met and bedded, she was the one he could never get out of his head. With a sign of resignation, Amirantha turned and headed back to his own quarters.

Pug appeared next to his son. Magnus was obviously in some sort of trance, as he sat ignoring the drizzling rain that had soaked him to the skin despite the best efforts of a Pantathian holding what appeared to be a make-shift umbrella that kept most of the rain off him. Which meant he had been there for a long time; knowing his son, Pug judged it had been since early this morning. While it was summer in the north, it was winter here and this far south the rain was turning bitterly cold.

At the sight of him the Pantathian almost dropped the umbrella and said in clearly-understandable Keshian, ‘Oh, you startled me!’

Pug waved his hand and said, ‘Apologies. Here, let me take that from you. I’m his father.’

The reptilian creature seemed relieved. ‘He awoke before dawn and has been here since breaking his fast; this is his second day and we are unwilling to disturb him.’

Pug reached out gently with his magic and then withdrew. ‘You could probably hit him on the head with a rock and it wouldn’t disturb him,’ he said, taking the umbrella. As soon as he had hold of it he realized that despite the good intentions of the Pantathian, the gusting wind entirely defeated the effectiveness of the umbrella. Even so, he held it over his son.

‘I am La’th,’ said the Pantathian. ‘I will inform Tavak that you are here. I am sure he will wish to welcome you himself.’

As the creature departed, Pug reflected on how ironic it should be to be welcomed by any sort of Pantathian. For his entire adult life they had been trying their best to obliterate humanity, at least all the ones he had encountered.

While he waited, Pug inspected the tableau. Magnus sat on a soggy cushion facing an oval of energy floating about three feet above the ground. Seeing it and the Sven-ga’ri beyond, he understood why Magnus had forgone the relatively easy task of erecting a shield of magic against the elements. It would have had to be large enough to encompass what appeared to be a massive terraced park atop the largest building in this city, which would have made deploying his other spells more problematic; or if small enough to encompass just himself, it certainly would have distorted any readings or insights gained from that examination.

Gently he sent his mind into the matrix of light before him, seeking out his son’s presence. Finding Magnus was like finding his own hand: as father and son they were attached in a way like no other pair in Pug’s life. His lifelong friend Tomas and his departed wife, Miranda, were family of his heart, and he could find them almost as easily, but Magnus was his blood, his last remaining child.

For a brief moment that awareness struck Pug as he remembered those children he had lost: William, his first boy, dying heroically in the defence of Krondor, and Gaminia, his adopted daughter in that same struggle. Caleb, his youngest, dying with his wife Marie, at the same time Miranda had been lost. Caleb, so strong and willing to serve, yet always the one without magic.

Pug pushed aside that pang, for he knew it led inexorably to his fear of the curse laid upon him by the Goddess of Death: that he would watch everyone he love die before him. He had foster grandsons, Tad, Zane, and Jommy, whom he had kept at an emotional distance, fearing that to come to love them as his own would doom them. He could not honestly say if he had succeeded in keeping his affections in check.

Turning his mind away from such morbid turns, he followed his instincts to his son’s metaphorical location within the matrix and intruded slightly to let Magnus know he was there.

Father, came Magnus’s thought. I felt your presence when you arrived.

Pug marvelled at the man and sorcerer his son was becoming. Pug had known other workers of magic: Kulgan, his mentor; Shimon, Hochopepa and other Tsurani Great Ones in the Assembly of Magicians on that now-lost world. Macros and his daughter Miranda. Each had special abilities and in one thing or another surpassed the others. Kulgan was a practitioner of what was known now as the Path of Lesser Magic, a distinction made by the Tsurani. The Great Ones were known to walk the Path of Greater Magic. The Greater and Lesser Paths were pointless labels from Pug’s point of view when it came to Magnus. He was a true master of any magic he sought to learn. Even the most arcane of the arts, such as Amirantha’s demon lore, Magnus had undertaken to understand, and now he could exercise some small control over demons.

Pushing aside his wonder at his son’s ability for mind-speech, a skill shared with Pug’s adopted daughter, a skill Pug had never successfully mastered, he said, ‘Amirantha and Sandreena have told me of this place. It is unexpected.’

Indeed, yet they have shown nothing but cordial hospitality. They are very wise beings, Father, and I think they know there are dark forces moving and they stand in harm’s way if they do not at least refuse to oppose us.

Pug felt another presence nearby. ‘I think our host is here. I’ll return momentarily.

Pug pulled his consciousness out of the matrix and turned to see an elderly Pantathian in a finely-made red robe with black trim now being thoroughly soaked by the intensifying rain. ‘You are Pug,’ the Pantathian said.

‘You are Tak’ka,’ returned Pug.

‘It would be false should I say you are welcome here, but we understand that your son’s appearance and now yours are fated, and accept that. Too much of our blood on your hands prevents me from offering more than tolerance and a modicum of comfort.’ He glanced skyward, ‘Though from your son’s willingness to soak in this soon-to-be-freezing rain indicates to me that creature comforts are not very important.’

Pug could not hide his amusement. If the Pantathian was unaware of a human sense of humour, he was naturally wry. ‘Oh, we appreciate comforts and I welcome tolerance. Perhaps at some time in the future we may discuss our past differences, or at least mine with your more murderous kin, but for the moment Magnus’s actions communicate a sense of urgency on his part and I defer to his judgment. As for the wet and cold, we’ve endured worse, and I expect we shall come though this, though a dry towel when we are done would be most welcome.’

Pug couldn’t tell if the creature was amused or not, as he did not understand Pantathian facial expressions. But Tak’ka answered, ‘That much can be done. La’th here will remain to provide for your needs should any arise.’ Without further words, the elder Pantathian turned and left the roof garden.

Pug actually looked forward to having the opportunity to sit and speak with the apparently gentle leader of the Pantathians. He had understood so little of these created beings, these playthings of an ancient dead Dragon Lord, Alma-Lodaka, who had become a goddess to this race.

But for now, Pug returned his attention to his son and re-entered the matrix.

Time became meaningless and Pug realized they stood a real risk of passing out from exhaustion if they didn’t occasionally monitor their real-world existence. Then he wondered how he would know what constituted ‘occasionally’, given the circumstances?

He watched as Magnus probed. He had remained an observer since Magnus had begun this exploration and seemed deft at discovering his way around this analogue of an energy field as well or perhaps better than his father would be.

Pug virtually moved within the matrix without conscious thought to where Magnus probed the massive construct of a castle. It appeared to be a protective barrier constructed entirely of energy, and prodigious amounts of energy at that.

They had tried moving around the barrier and learned that the illusion of size and shape was misleading. There was no ‘around’ nor ‘back’. Anywhere they ceased their ‘movement’ they were still confronted by the red barrier. After much discussion the night before, Pug was observing Magnus attempt to penetrate the barrier. The more obvious choices had been to ‘look’ in one of the windows, but that had proved pointless; there was nothing beyond the ‘window’. Pug deduced that it might have been some mechanism that allowed observation from within, allowing someone or something within the matrix to observe what Magnus and Pug were attempting. But who or what that someone or something might be was beyond their understanding.

Now Magnus was probing the ‘lock’ in the door. Pug struggled to understand the concept. Here was an energy matrix, assembled in such a way as to imply it was a communication of some sort. But it seemed protected in a fashion that whoever placed it here wanted to be certain that only a certain person or group of people might be able to decipher it. That would imply the information was sensitive.

Pug began an investigation of his own, exploring the limits of the matrix while Magus continued his probing of the internal barrier. When he was at last convinced he had begun to understand something of the nature of this odd artefact, he gently contacted Magnus, who withdrew.

In a blink they were both conscious of being in the rain, drenched and chilled. They hurried to the entrance to the garden and found La’th waiting, though the Pantathian seemed on the verge of sleeping. He snapped out of his doze and handed them each a towel. ‘Is there anything you require?’

Father and son glanced at one another. ‘Something hot to drink would be appreciated,’ said Pug. ‘Coffee, tea, chocha, whatever else you might have.’

‘We have tea,’ said the Pantathian and he hurried down the stairs.

‘What concerns me,’ began Pug to Magnus, ‘is the incalculable energy contained within that thing.’

Magnus nodded. ‘Me too. When I first began I concluded that this construct, this matrix, is somehow an extension of the Sven-ga’ri, and I’m convinced it’s their attempt to communicate with us. I just don’t understand why, after all this time, and why here, rather than up in the Peaks of the Quor?’

‘When we unlock that barrier and if we are able to communicate with these beings, then perhaps we will have those answers. As for the first, I speculate that time may be different to them, and perhaps it’s taken them this long to appreciate what manner of beings surround them, and how best to reach out to us. As to why here than there, I do not even care to speculate on that question.’

Pug fell silent as the Pantathian returned with two mugs of hot tea. It was bitter and flavourful and warming and they were both grateful to have it. ‘How are you doing with that barrier?’

Magnus sipped his tea and Pug studied his son for a moment. Unlike his eldest son, William, who bore a strong resemblance to Pug, or like his youngest son Caleb, who resembled his mother, Magnus barely resembled either of his parents, though Pug could see hints of Miranda around the eyes. His face was currently set in a very familiar expression of thoughtfulness as he answered, ‘It’s complex, obviously. It’s constantly changing but I’m beginning to discern a pattern, a repeating sequences of pulses that prevent a casual probe beyond that wall into whatever is hiding behind there. Think of it as a lock, but one that has teeth and grooves within that are moving, and out there somewhere is a key that moves in synchronization with that lock, but any other key or lock pick will merely jam the lock, rendering it useless.’

Pug considered this. After a moment, he said, ‘Still, the matrix did not manifest until you appeared, what, a day after you arrived?’

‘About that,’ agreed Magnus.

‘So we might conclude that there’s a reasonable expectation that you are either supposed to be in possession of that key or able to pick that lock, correct?’

Magnus smiled. ‘Were our positions reversed in this conversation, Father, what would you say in answer to that?’

Pug smiled. ‘I’d say you were making rash assumptions. It could be that the arrival of any magic-user triggers that response.’

‘Or any non-Pantathian,’ offered Magnus.

‘Or demons on the island, or a flock of seagulls flying overhead …’

‘We should get back,’ said Magnus. ‘We have a few hours of daylight left, and while it’s cold now, it’s going to be brutal after the sun goes down. And I feel as if I’m almost ready to try to “pick the lock” as you say.’

Pug followed his son out to where the now totally soaked and useless cushion sat, and watched as Magnus sat on it anyway, and observed him enter his trance state.

A sudden concern struck Pug in the pit of his stomach as he recognized that his last living child was about to embark on what was perhaps a very dangerous exploration of magic. He quickly inventoried his own established spells of protection and realized he’d got sloppy lately.

Pug had almost died because of his own arrogance when confronting the demon Jakan when he was in the guise of the Emerald Queen. That near-death experience had delivered a harsh lesson, but it had proved instructive in preparing for potentially lethal outcomes.

Pug decided not to join his son in the matrix exploration but began to construct a spell of protection for the two of them. Of all spell-craft at Pug’s disposal, the most difficult was this, a spell to protect without warning. The difficulty arose that in the time between an attack manifesting itself and the target becoming aware, the target could already be dead before the defence could be deployed. Against arrows and sword, fire and stone, there was no way to protect without advance warning. But against magic there was always a momentary gathering of energies, sometimes less than a few seconds, yet always there before the magic was unleashed. It was that fact that gave Pug the idea for this construction of magic.

The shell that would engulf him and anyone close, Magnus in this case, and protect them from any magical damage Pug could anticipate. As a master of his craft unequalled on this world, save perhaps for his son, that covered any form of energy, fire, or other discharge that would instantly kill the unprotected. The trick, as Nakor would have called it, was to have it deployed the instant before the attack was unleashed, and that was where Pug concentrated. The instant a malevolent magic was detected, the shield would deploy, and in that instant was the different between salvation and obliteration. The difficulty was he could only deploy such a defence in a single position, such as on top of this roof in this garden.

Pug fashioned his spell and put the magical ‘trip-wire’ as he thought of it in place, then let out a long sigh. As long as he stood there and didn’t move, he and Magnus stood a fair chance of surviving any trap that could be anticipated.

It was the ones he couldn’t anticipate that had him worried.