When Jhegan came too he was lying on hard stone, the sun in his eyes. He felt awful. His mouth was dry, his head ached and his stomach was queasy. What had he been drinking? Oh, that’s right. He hadn’t drunk anything at all. Some rat-begotten magic. He tried to sit up, nearly blacked out, lay still for a little, then rolled over and raised his head very slowly. He was lying on the slate floor of a cupola, the pillars upholding the dome leaving it open on all four sides. When he lifted his head a little more he glimpsed forest rolling away, far below, over a parapet no higher than his ankles. Jhegan did not like heights. He dropped his head and crawled away from the edge. His fingers found rough wood: a trapdoor. Still lying down, he groped around until he found a ring and levered it up, to see a ladder descending into a dark space. He couldn’t stay up here, sun-baked, wind-chilled, thirsty and clueless. A painful wriggle, loose feet flailing until they found a rung and down he went, one careful step after another.

The coolness and dimness were a welcome relief, as were the enclosing walls. The ladder was mounted on the wall of a small bare room, from which a stair led down. Jhegan inched down the steps, clinging to the banister. The next floor at least had a corridor, although the single room he looked into was bare, with clean floorboards shining in the light through the single window. He limped along, down another flight and the building became an inhabited space. There was carpet on the floor, hangings on the walls and an indefinable sense of use. The first door opened on a bedchamber, comfortable but not luxurious, the second on a bathing area – again merely functional. Jhegan took a gulp of water straight from the tap, splashed some over his neck and face, and went on. Down one more story, into a large room that combined a study and a workshop. Bookshelves and a desk took up one corner; benches, tools, a small forge and racked materials had all the rest of the space. Jhegan crossed to a window, careful not to touch anything, and looked out. The same treetops, not appreciably nearer. It seemed the tower stood on a height. Was there a door at ground level, or had his grandfather flown in and out from the rooftop?

That thought reminded Jhegan of the key. He had been holding it when so rudely flung here. He must have left it on the roof. Maybe it would take him back? He would look later, he decided, and crossed to one of the doors out. This led into a small dining area, with a kitchen and storage areas attached. All was neat and clean. Jhegan found a cup and had another drink of water. It was better than nothing, but not what he really wanted.

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“A cup of liani would be good,” he muttered to himself, and turned at a noise to see a kettle floating from the sink to the hearth-stone. Invisible hands set out a pot and a whisk, brought over a canister of powdered leaves and prepared the infusion as he watched. A cup was poured and set before him. He took a cautious sip. It was liani, made as it should be, with water not quite boiled, whisked briskly, poured gently over the leaves. He took another sip – a western blend, Liwy with a hint of Upland.

“Is there a biscuit?’ he asked the air. A plate set with butter biscuits dusted with cinnamon wafted from the pantry to the table. At least he would not starve. Two cups and several biscuits later, he felt much better. Revived, he set out to explore this new domain as thoroughly as possible. Two hours later, he was back in the dining room. The tower had six floors and the cupola. The only exits to the outside were at the top and a small balcony off the bedroom. The view from this confirmed that the tower stood atop a rock rising out of the trees. A door off the bedroom was locked, and he could not find the key. The lowest floor was given over to storage. Bins held powders and bottles, timbers were racked against one wall and billets of metal stacked against another. The second floor was another workshop. Jhegan guessed the machines there were designed to shape metal and wood, but had no idea how to operate them. There was food and drink enough to keep him for a month, maybe more if he was frugal. It was not an enticing prospect. One month, a second, and then what?

Jhegan ate a dispirited lunch, remembered the key and reluctantly climbed back up to the cupola. When he poked his head through the trapdoor the key was lying there within arm’s reach. He had nothing to lose if it did transport him – except his lunch – so he reached out. When his hand closed on it it was just a solid metal rod. No whirligig back to Dtlag. He climbed back down.

What next? It would help to know where he was. Perhaps there was a map among the papers? He made his way to the workroom and looked over the shelves. As at the apartment on Foxglove Square, most of the titles made no sense to him. He pulled a few books from the shelves and flipped through, to find he could make even less sense of the contents. There were charts, rows of figures next to arcane signs, an unfamiliar technical vocabulary and the writing veered into scripts he did not recognise. He put them back and turned to the desk. He passed over the sheets of drawings and calculations on the top to explore the drawers. On the right, first, a drawer full of pens, inks, styluses and other writing materials. In the next, sheets of paper, sorted by colour and weight. At the bottom, a complicated apparatus of blackwood, copper and glass, and a shallow wooden box. This last held only a piece of thin cloth.

On the top left, a drawing compass, a set of rulers and three keys. Jhegan paused. Could these be the keys his grandfather’s note referred to? He left the drawer part open and went on. The second drawer held three wooden rods in a rack. Something to do with magic, no doubt. The third held a battered ledger and bundled dockets and letters. Jhegan pulled them out and opened the ledger. Accounts. Here was something he understood. He sat down, took out paper and pen and began to read. A polite request to the air produced more tea and biscuits, after which he undid the tape around the dockets, sorted them and made more notes.