"I can't say I'm thrilled by the idea."

Wynn waited, watching her opponent. When finally Thia did lunge she was parried with barely a movement. With the young knight fully occupied by the swordplay, Wynn continued.

"I know his record has been good since the incident with Lady Kathri, but surely if he's to be on protection duties again it should be something less challenging?"

"My Lady, you understand the threats to yourself and the requirements of the job better than anyone; in many ways your guard detail may be easier than the others."

She pressed again, the Duchess again making the attack come to nothing.

"Press, Thia: openings don't happen by themselves, you need to earn them. What are you afraid of?"

"Overreaching."

Wynn stepped back, her change in posture signalling a break in the sparring. She smiled broadly.

"Really? Still? We need to work on that; don't worry, I'm not going to beat you if I'm not happy with your progress. On your guard."

Thia drove in again, pushing harder and drawing out a slightly more involved defence. Even as Thia put more effort into her technique, Wynn continued to be bothered by the news of her new guard commander.

"I don't trust him with this: I don't have enough faith in him. Sure, I don't mind if he doesn't argue with me, but the lack of assertiveness was a warning sign regardless of how it came about."

"Your Grace, please remember that Sir Narte is my commanding officer. If you have concerns you should raise them with Knight-Captain Richard or perhaps Knight-Lieutenant Firrin."

Wynn shook her head.

"No, whatever my concerns might be they're too trivial to take to Sir Richard. Sir Narte will be fine. Now, on your guard..."

Thia drove in twice more, with Wynn pleased by the change.

"That's better. Now I feel threatened." She blocked the third attempt with her buckler, letting the sword slide by before grabbing the young knight's wrist. Wynn didn't need to pull hard to make Thia take a step forward. "A little too much that time, but you'll get it soon."

She backed off and was about to call Thia to her guard again when the door at the far end of the room opened and her new protector stepped in.

"Ah, Sir Narte. Changing shifts already?"

He looked around the room before he nodded.

"Yes your Grace. My Lady, I do not think that you should be fencing; many accidents have happened that way." He glanced at Thia. "You should know better."

Wynn nodded, pushing her irritation back to the depths from which it was rising.

"Do not scold Lady Thia: I require a certain amount of trust in those with whom I spar. I appreciate your concern, Sir Narte, but I am the Prince's Champion. Should I be called upon to accept a duel on his behalf it would be must improper for me to be out of practice."

"Duel? My Lady you cannot duel!"

She frowned; a tiny hint of the reaction she would like to have given.

"That is out of your hands, Narte. Don't worry: if I am duelling on behalf of his Highness I will be taking responsibility for my own safety, in my capacity as a Knight-Lieutenant of the King's Order."

Sir Narte nodded reluctantly.

"Of course, my Lady."

"Good. If that's understood, we can go back to my chambers and discuss the plans for tomorrow's announcement."


"Perhaps we need the Harbinger."

Even as she said it, she knew it wasn't a good idea. Across an expanse of grand desk, the Dean of the Guild of Wizards seemed equally sceptical.

"Lady d'Antoli, I know what this means to you but I have to wonder whether you're letting your personal involvement affect your judgement."

"Not at all. Grey is dengerous, you know that as well as I do. There's no 'personal involvement' here."

He raised an eyebrow.

"You are sure? It's normal to see your Master's other apprentices as rivals, especially since a Magister so great as yours took only two students."

"This has nothing to do with my Master. It's about the danger that Grey poses to this Guild, and to the Kingdom. Listen, suggesting the Harbinger was a mistake, but we have to do something."

The Dean nodded.

"The Harbinger is a mistake, and I'll tell you why. Your teacher was a powerful wizard - one of the best of this age - but he wasn't ready for the death that found him. There can't be a trial to find a replacement until the term is up, even though he died barely a year into it."

She sighed.

"I know the law. What is your point?"

"My point is that he was supposed to have left instructions: policies, proxy votes, standing orders, but most importantly he had a responsibility to make sure that he was not the only one who knew the secrets of the Harbinger. When your master died he took most of that knowledge with him. Once we've appointed a new Magister Magnus and he has the blessing of the Guild he should be able to rediscover that knowledge, but in the meantime I simply don't think we have anyone who can handle it. As much as it might look like we can't deal with Grey, we certainly can't deal with the Harbinger if we set him loose now."

The Countess nodded. Certainly her mentor had died unexpectedly and there was some truth to what the Dean said about not having prepared the Guild for his absence. The competition for succession was years away and in the meantime tradition dictated that the Guild would be essentially headless.

"Well, I've made you aware of the dangers as best I can. I will leave the rest up to you, unless you see fit to call upon me."

The Dean stood as she did and they exchanged a measured nod before she left the room. Outside she paused, taking a deep breath as she considered what she might do next.

He was right, of course; the Dean could not control the Harbinger. Perhaps with her Master dead there was nobody who could.

You can control me.

A less experienced person might have mistaken the words for a thought of her own. Even the Countess took a few moments to realise what the outside influence was, but the eventual realisation brought a wave of nausea.

I know the one you seek, Milady. I can defeat him for you. Release me.

Her chambers were only a little way down the corridor from the Dean's: she walked there briskly, locking the door behind her and all but collapsing onto a chaise longue.

He cannot be destroyed without my help. You must realise that.

Your help has too high a price, Harbinger. Now quiet, before your wakefulness causes offence.

In the silence that followed she did what she could to reinforce her defences. Being able to make himself heard - even to read thoughts she projected to him - required only trivial contact, but it was still much more than he should have been able to achieve and she had no idea how much more he might be capable of. The thought of it made her stomach churn.

Do not worry, Countess. Your guard is strong enough, for the time being. The Grey one is strong though, stronger than you remember; he has studied well in his time away.

Apparently my guard could be stronger, Harbinger. You know of Grey? Of how he is now?

It was a trick. It had to be. The Harbinger was confined: in magical stasis for his own safety and that of everyone else. Neither the Guild nor the Palace knew where Knight-Captain was or what he planned; the Guild's dark secret would not know.

It is no trick, Milady. We 'dark secrets' have a kinship, a link that leads me to the great Master's rogue son.

It was beginning to sound almost plausible, but that was what the Harbinger intended.

What would I have to do?

I know that your Master taught you the ways of my prison. You must free me. You would have control of me, enough to see that everyone was safe. Everyone but the Grey one, of course.

Freeing him was out of the question, probably. Almost certainly.

It is too high a price. The Dean is concerned that he cannot control you.

Of course he cannot. The Dean is a fool; he considers himself the greatest duellist in the Guild, and yet he did not even take part in the trials when your Master ascended. Nor did you, to my surprise.

She sighed. Certainly she did not want to talk about duelling.

Do not change the subject, Harbinger. If the Dean cannot control you then we cannot release you. I do not know what ever made me think it might be an acceptable course of action.

The Dean cannot control me, because the Dean does not have the spirit of a Magister Magnus, nor any of the teachings required. You, on the other hand, have both. You must do this, or the spirit of your Master will be left unavenged forever.

A single tear rolled down her cheek. She had expected him to make that accusation, much as she had often done herself. There was nothing that reasonably linked the King's Spymaster to the death of the Magister Magnus, though.

Do you have proof?

There was a thought, not quite a word, but something like a mental nod of the Harbinger's head.

Of course. Release me and I will show you.

I will be right there.


Deep in the labyrinthine cellars and basements of the Guild tower was a secret room - one of many - in which stood a large bronze construction, like a giant upright coffin. The feeling of dread that the Harbinger evoked in her had grown stronger as the Countess had approached the room, opening each door with its own key and locking it carefully behind her. Standing in front of the sarcophagus now she was gripped by a primal fear like she had never experienced before.

In the front of the chamber was a small window of crystalline glass, etched with runes that supported some of the strongest enchantments the Guild had devised. On the other side was darkness, a swirling mass of purple and black punctuated by two points of dull blue light. Folklore said that in the Harbinger's state of sleep he kept his eyes open, and that it was the magic in his soul that shone out through them.

For a while, the Countess stood transfixed by those eyes. They had seen so much, been to so many places, only to be locked away for all time. She hated the people who had made the decision, the ones who had performed the rituals, anyone else who had been complicit, but most of all - as much as it wasn't his fault - she hated the Harbinger himself. The cold light of his eyes was a terrible reminder of the kind of means to which the Guild had once been prepared to stoop, and the only reassuring thing now was their artificial permanence.

She she stood watching, the Harbinger blinked.

Come, Countess, there may not be much time. Prepare the ritual.

Lady d'Antoli worked quickly. It had not been her responsibility to prepare a ritual for a long time, but even among the highest of her order there were certain things one had to prepare personally, things that would not be trusted to an assistant even if she'd brought one. She placed carved crystals at intervals around the room, checking the positions by eye and other means even as she took her cues from the designs marked on the floor and the walls. When the circle was ready she returned to the centre, in front of the Harbinger's prison.

To an untrained onlooker the ritual itself would have seemed much less impressive. The work was in her mind: to visualise and understand the seals on the metal tomb and construct the necessary apparatus to manipulate them, reaching out magically to engage with the chains of essence that spread about the room. Even another Wizard might not have appreciated the scale of the exercise, the amount of her own energy she put in even as she channelled power into the ritual circle.

Come on, that's right. Free me and I will see that you are rewarded. We will bring Grey to justice, then see what can be put right about the rest of the Guild.

She barely heard him, her task was so demanding, but his words reminded her of Grey saying something similar. It steeled her to finish her task.

With the intricacies of the cell appearing clearly to her magically enhanced sight and all the connections in place, she began the painstaking work of realigning and reshaping the many layers of 'bars'. The atmosphere grew more and more unpleasant as the Harbinger grew expectant, excited by the prospect of freedom after so long.

After the Countess had been rearranging the wards for almost two hours, a sudden chill fell over the room.

No, that's not right! You are undoing all your good work! What are you doing?

You are right, Harbinger. My Master showed me the secrets of your prison. He knew that there might come a time when he was not available to safeguard it, and that I might need to take his place.

As she slotted the final piece back into place a scream could be heard in the distance. It echoed through her head for a few moments, but faded in her mind as quickly as it had in her ears once the seal was complete. She took one last look at the prison with her ritual sight; even the magical lattice looked much as it had before, but knowing where to look she could see the pieces she had restored and she could feel how much stronger it was for her intervention. Looking at the construction as a normal person would nothing had changed, although the sense of dark foreboding that she had been getting before was all but gone.

"That should keep you quiet for a few more years. One day I'll find a way to put you out of your misery. I promise."

She looked through the little window once more. The Harbinger slept again, this time with his eyes closed.



Next Chapter: Chapter 70