Si glyph [https://i.imgur.com/mHhTdaF.png]

When Simon reached the entrance to the Labyrinth, Vikki and Jonas were waiting for him. Vikki leaned against a column, a bag of tools at her feet.

Jonas broke off from pacing to glare at Simon. ‘I wish you’d picked somewhere else to meet.’

A millennia ago, men had come to Athanor and found the overgrown ruins of a city built by the Forerunners. Below ground, ancient tunnels and galleries connected even more ancient lava tubes and gas pockets. The passages known as the Labyrinth were clearly not natural, though why the Forerunners had built a three-dimensional underground maze was anyone’s guess.

Enterprising explorers had stripped the original contents of the Labyrinth long ago. Only the maze remained: several miles of tortuously interconnected tunnels, resembling a tangled ball of yarn wound around the Heart. For the last several hundred years, House Oryche had used the space to house its honoured dead.

The source of Jonas’s unease was nearer at hand, though. Set into the wall of a circular, high-ceilinged chamber of black basalt and pearlescent marble, the entrance to the Labyrinth was flanked by a pair of stone-wyrms.

Simon grimaced. ‘Sorry. I forgot.’

Vikki offered Simon a black leather glove. ‘You’d better try this on before we go anywhere.’

A lump lodged in Simon’s throat. It was crude compared to the hand he’d lost: the steel fingers were stubby, without the complex joints of Danta’s version. But the index finger had a stylus point, and when he pulled the glove on, it fit snugly. He was whole again.

‘Well?’ Vikki asked.

He swallowed. ‘It’s fine. Thank you.’

‘Great,’ Jonas said. ‘Let’s go.’

Simon faced him. ‘Jonas, are you sure you want to go through with this?’

‘You were the one going on about how dangerous the codex was. Look, I understand you’re worried, but you just need to get us past the Watcher. You needn’t set foot in the House if you don’t want to.’

‘Just the Watcher?’

‘Absolutely. Come on.’

Opposite the Labyrinth entrance, wide stairs led to the under-stories of the House. Jonas led the way. Simon followed, his nerves jangling. Vikki’s tool bag clanked with every step.

At the top, the black stone stairway ended in a broad hall lit by gas-lamps, casting eccentric shadows on the vaulted roof and buttresses. The floor was tiled in pale marble, making a clear division between the inside and outside of the House. Between the two floors lay the unremarkable black slab that made Simon’s palms tingle.

‘On you go,’ Jonas said. ‘I’ll let you know if anyone’s coming.’

Simon knelt by the black slab and took a deep breath, unease twisting his guts into knots. Why had he let himself be talked into what was so very clearly a bad idea? Yet here he was — and if he was doing this, it were best done quickly.

To scratch a sigil into the dull black basalt seemed blasphemous. He did it anyway, drawing lightly in one corner, then sat back to summon the Watcher. At first he was too nervous to focus, so calmed himself with a breathing exercise. Then routine took over; the summoning built, and he released it.

Darkness fell across his vision, the absolute pitch blackness of underground. Simon blinked, though he knew the darkness wasn’t real — at least, not real for anyone except himself.

The blackness shivered along his nerves, bringing an odd, sideways shifting sense of presence. Something was with him. Something observed.

Who’s there?

The Watcher in the Stone was a self-sustaining sentinel, an arcane construct created by many Earth Masters working together. Its limited awareness allowed it to track who entered and exited the House, and to raise an alarm if anyone entered with intent to steal or do harm.

Who?

Simon had never experienced the alarm himself. The Watchers were the stuff of Athanor legend, so well known that no common house-breaker would risk what Jonas was about to try. But of course, no common thief had an Earth Adept as an accomplice.

Who?

Only blackness.

Simon broke the trance. Light flooded his eyes and he blinked rapidly, re-orienting himself to the real world.

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‘Well?’ Jonas said. ‘Are we sorted?’

Simon frowned at him. ‘Yes.’

‘Great. Good work.’

‘I didn’t do anything.’ Simon absently scratched out his sigil. He had done nothing. The Watcher was blind. An Earth Adept had already tampered with it, and either they frequently revisited it, or they’d managed to break it permanently. That was troubling.

‘So long as we’re clear. Thank you, Simon.’ Jonas stepped across the slab into House Oryche.

‘Wait,’ Simon said. ‘In Eranon’s study, there’s a door concealed in the bookshelves. Behind that is a small room — I’m sure that’s where he’ll keep the codex.’

Jonas grinned. ‘Thanks, that’s good to know.’ He beckoned to Vikki. ‘Come on.’

She stepped over the slab with exaggerated care and joined him on the other side. Jonas took her hand.

Simon had a sudden vision of the two of them fumbling round every inch of bookshelf in Eranon’s study, looking for the secret door. If the catch was well hidden, they might never find it.

‘Hold on. I’m coming with you,’ he said.

‘Oh, great.’ Jonas hesitated. ‘You’re sure?’

Simon’s palms tingled as he stepped across the Watcher stone, onto the pale slick tiles. He wasn’t sure at all. But without his help, Jonas would fail to find the codex and probably get himself caught into the bargain. More importantly, to bring Eranon down, he needed evidence against him, and where better to find evidence than his study?

‘Yes, I’m sure,’ he said. ‘Let’s go.’

L glyph [https://i.imgur.com/2vwU4yB.png]

Cold. Lorie clutched a warm bowl in chilled hands. A thin layer of snow covered the frozen earth under a starless night sky. Mammut chuffed and moaned as they chewed their hay. The campfire crackled. Her father sat beside her, and Nana, and Sam scowled at his food.

Nadu said: ‘Snowstorm’ll be on us tomorrow, I reckon, or the day after.’

Lorie stared, because Nadu was dead. Chase had stabbed him.

Chase cursed and spat black into the fire. ‘You never saw a real storm, not this far south. I’m for going on.’

This wasn’t real, she thought, it couldn’t be real. It must be a dream — only she knew what would happen. Nadu would die all over again, and she couldn’t stop it.

Patla shrugged. ‘As you wish. But the wagon train goes to Grubb.’

‘For how long?’

‘Maybe we stop all winter. The ore won’t mind.’

But you can stop this. You can save Nadu. He doesn’t have to die.

‘I mind.’ Chase stood. ‘Now, you listen to me. I know weather, me. This storm won’t be nothing. Let’s get on to Athanor. We got urgent business there, not demon-cursed Grubb.’

Lorie shook her head. ‘I can’t. This is the past. It already happened. I can’t change it.’

Nadu and Patla exchanged glances. Nadu stood. ‘Friend, we go to Grubb tomorrow, and we sit out the storm, and then we go on, maybe. You don’t tell me what to do or where to go.’

Chase snarled. His hand went to his knife.

You can. You know what to do. It’s easy. Let me help.

A wave of warmth passed over Lorie. Dread drained away, replaced by calm certainty: she knew what she could do, what she must do, to save Nadu.

The campfire roared upward into a column of flames taller than a man. The fire shook itself, and took on a human shape. It stepped forward and stretched out its arms.

Chase stepped back, eyes wide. Not fast enough. One burning arm lashed like a whip and gripped his shoulder. He shrieked in agony. The other flaming hand closed on his face. His clothes burned, his hair smouldered, his skin blackened.

‘No.’ Lorie stared in horror. ‘Stop. Not like this—I don’t—’

You made it happen. Doesn’t he deserve to burn?

The burning man wrapped its arms around Chase. Embraced by flames, he screamed. And screamed.

Lorie woke with a gasp, sitting bolt upright, and realised her blanket was on fire. She shrieked and batted at the flames with her hands, then scrambled out of bed, balled the blanket up and stamped on it until the fire died.

‘Sammael preserve us, what are you doing?’ Nana said.

Lorie sank on what was left of her bed. Nana hugged her, and she clung to her familiar warmth.

Nana patted her back. ‘Ssh. What was it? A nightmare?’

‘Yes. Yes, it was a nightmare. I was scared and woke up, and… Nana, I set my blanket on fire.’

‘Are you hurt?’

Lorie looked at her hands. Her nightdress was scorched in places, but she had no burns as far as she could tell. ‘I’m fine.’

‘Well, no harm done then. We’ve got other blankets.’

‘Nana, I set it on fire in my sleep. This isn’t right. Magic shouldn’t work this way.’ Lorie began to tremble, as the full awfulness sunk in. Her blanket had been on fire in a room full of flammable gas. ‘I could have killed us all.’

‘Good thing you didn’t then.’

‘But I could have. Where’s Dad?’

‘He’s not back yet.’

Lorie bit her lip. ‘Nana, I’m scared.’

Nana hugged her tightly, as if she meant to never let go. ‘Now look here, my girl. I don’t know much about magic, but I know you. You wouldn’t harm a fly.’

‘But—’

‘Ssh. I know how girls are. I was one myself, long ago, believe it or not. You’re of an age where things are confusing and scary enough, and then all this has happened, and we’re all scared, aren’t we? And you have this magic, besides. No wonder you have a bad dream and throw a fit.’

As a small child, Lorie had known her grandmother was the wisest person in the world. The old woman knew everything worth knowing. She could light fires, cook, sew, make medicines, treat injuries big and small. She knew everyone’s secrets, though she never spoke of them — only pursed her lips, by which one knew she had something she could say, but wouldn’t.

As Lorie grew older, the moments of amazement were less frequent. Nana still sometimes surprised her with her insight, but these days, she was more often shocked by what Nana didn’t know, like where the Windward Islands were, or what could and couldn’t be done with magic.

Right now she was astonished by how calmly Nana was taking all this, but with the uneasy certainty that her grandmother simply didn’t understand what had happened. If she did, she’d be screaming in panic.

So this is what growing up means, she thought. One day you discover your elders and betters aren’t better after all. No one can answer your questions, no one can solve your problems, and suddenly you’re alone. Terribly alone.

‘I think,’ Lorie ventured, ‘there might be more to it.’

Nana stroked her hair soothingly. ‘Did you make any friends at this school of yours?’

‘Well, yes. One.’ Phin. Oh dear. He must be wondering where she was. And not just him. The Masters would notice her absence too. And perhaps the stolen, burnt book would be mentioned, and someone would connect…

‘A boy?’

‘They’re all boys, Nana.’

‘Ah,’ Nana said, as if she’d just made an important discovery.