Kara awoke not remembering her dreams. She couldn’t even say if she had dreamt, tired as she was. She recognised her surroundings immediately, and felt as if her reality was receding back into a nightmare. The ceiling of the room under the wizard’s tower looked the same, the wooden table she was tied to felt the same. Her fatigue was just as bad as it had been earlier, though her headache had passed. Underground, she could not say how many hours had gone by. She could have been down here for days and she would not be able to say.

There was a presence in the room.

The wizard?

She moved her head to look, and to her surprise, she was able to lift it.

Did someone remove the restraint?

The others around her limbs and middle felt looser, too. She looked to the presence, and surely enough the wizard was there, sitting on a wooden chair and looking right back at her. Somehow he didn’t seem as fierce as he had before.

“I never told you my name. I am Ozymun, court-wizard to the Duke Kellsley of Tarwall.”

“I’m Kara.”

Does he know? Was my blood enough for him to figure it out?

He paused, but the silence didn’t seem venomous as it had before.

“I know what you are, Kara.”

Shit.

“I know you are not human, but something quite unique. It explains quite a few things about you, including what you did to my golem.”

Kara considered her options and gauged her strength.

It might be too soon to call on it, but I might have no choice. I could wish the restraints gone, but I’d pass out and he’d just tie me up again.

“I know that you are Warith.”

I could wish myself away, but I’ve never done that before. This really is not a time for firsts.

“I have a few questions, about your power.”

I’ll have to kill him. Maybe two or three days to recover? Will I survive that long? Then, when I awake, use it on the restraints. Then I’ll have to recover again…

“How does it feel? When you make something happen?”

Kara’s trail of thought came to an abrupt end. That was not a question she was expecting.

“Is it painful? I gather the process takes quite a toll on you. That’s why you were unconscious when I found you, isn’t it?”

“It… it is very tiring.”

Kara was almost as surprised by nature his question as she was by the honesty of her answer.

“That’s why you haven’t done it again, yes? Your body isn’t ready for another… another…” he stumbled.

“Wish.”

Why did I say that. Has he fed me some potion? Put me under some spell?

“So it is a wish? Fascinating.”

His eyes darted around, though it wasn’t clear what he was looking at.

I suppose that’s his thinking face.

“What’s the most powerful wish you’ve ever granted?”

Murder.

She thought it, but couldn’t bring herself to say it. The pain of that thought must have been apparent on her face.

“It’s alright, you don’t need to tell me. Have you ever wished something, but it has not come to be?”

“No.”

It looked almost as if Ozymun shivered.

“I see, I see. Your father was a Djinn? I gather by the colouration of your hair and eyes.”

“Grandfather.”

“Grandfather? Well that is something.”

Kara thought it was time to try her luck.

“Excuse me, but I am really very tired.”

“Oh, of course, of course.”

Oymun hustled over to her table and began fumbling to open the restraints.

That worked? Kara couldn’t believe what he was doing.

“I have a guest bed-chamber in the tower. You are more than welcome to stay there until you are rested.”

Her legs took a while to adjust to walking again, and Ozymun patiently ushered her across the room. She took a look around what had been her prison for the previous Magi-knows how long. The walls were all the same stone as the rest of the tower, aside from the occasional set of deep scratches, always four deeply set lines close together. There were no windows and only the one door, wrought of solid iron. As she passed through it, she noticed the walls were remarkably thick and, immediately on the other side, another stone golem stood watching.

Ozymun ushered Kara past the golem and up a curving staircase, as she tried not to dwell on what he typically kept in that room. They passed a number of wooden doors on the way up until eventually the wizard opened one. On the other side she was surprised to see a dining room, fitted with a large, dining table, ornate pear-green table cloth with yellow embroidery and finely carved oak chairs with matching upholstery. A vase filled with orchids was set in the centre of the table, and oil-paintings, aquatints and tapestries ornamented the walls. Quickly Kara closed the mouth she just realised had fallen open at the sight. If he had seen it, Ozymun pretended not to notice.

“Once you are rested, you will find a meal readied for you here. I will leave this door open, so that you may find it again.”

He led her up yet more stairs until coming to another oak door, this one set between a tempera of the Tarwall stone wharfs and an oil painted portrait of a quite regal-looking elf she presumed to be some famous mage.

As he swung open the heavy oak door she gasped a little. Inside, the chamber featured even more extravagant decor than the dining room. More paintings, more aquatints, a bureau with parchment and ink ready, a table with a large mirror set into it. Most excitingly, in one corner of the room, a copper bathtub filled almost to the brim with steaming, rose-coloured water.

“This is your room. I hope everything is to your liking.”

“It’s amazing.”

“Well, thank you. I’ve always been a believer in the value of fine things, and I pride myself on collecting them.”

Collecting.

That word conjured an unwelcome memory of what he had kept upstairs. Remembering that, Kara felt as though she would quite like to be alone.

“Well, I really am tired.”

“Ah, of course, how rude of me. I shall bid you goodnight.”

“Goodnight” she smiled, as she closed the heavy oak door behind him.

Night. I was down there a full day.

The basement, the stairway, the dining room and this chamber; all lacked windows.

Am I still a prisoner. Why would he treat me so nicely? He must want something, she decided.

She would have stayed up and pondered Ozymun’s motives, but her exhaustion had not left her entirely. She undressed, disregarding her breaking-and-entering ensemble – still cut open at the sleeve - and clambered eagerly into the copper tub.

Master-Wizard Arwyn,

It has come to my attention that, when quizzed on the subject, the vast majority of the wizards at our college keep some small token to Magi either on their person or among their things. I have suspected this for some time, but the weight of the numbers of those devoted to the God of Magic has given me an idea.

I propose we hold an event - something small maybe as this would be the first at our college. We could honour Magi – something I’m sure many of our staff would be happy to try – and simultaneously educate some of our younger novices about the deity closest to our profession. Just the other day I heard one in the corridors pronounce Magi “maggy.” Honestly, not a word of a lie.

Though, now I think on it, I suppose nobody can really know with any certainty how to pronounce it. Magi is by far the most enigmatic deity (the only without a known gender, the only without a recognisable appearance, etc.) Just last week I was reading a theory that Magi might not even be a deity at all…

A letter between colleagues (page 1 of 8) – Hobse Mugwich

Kara awoke with a heavy head. She felt as though she had slept for an age, though owing to the lack of windows in her room, she could not be sure of how long it had been. She hadn’t seen the sky since after the golem. Atop a featherbed with down pillows softer than she thought possible and under piles upon piles of blankets, Kara couldn’t remember a time she had ever been half as comfortable as she was then. The young Warith would have happily never left that bed, but her stomach growled in fierce disagreement. Reluctantly, she unburied herself from the blankets and pillows and stepped a bare foot down from the bed onto the walnut floor. Even the bed-clothes Ozymun had left out, made of real silk, were finer than anything she had worn before. Though they did little to protect her from the cold she felt in the absence of all those blankets. She padded over to an ornate oak wardrobe with scenes from nature carved into the panels and opened the doors.

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This room doesn’t disappoint.

The inside was filled to bursting with fine garments; silk shirts and blouses, padded doublets, richly embroidered robes. She stifled a giggle when she noticed a selection of elegant dresses of radically fluctuating levels of modesty.

In the end she settled on a comfortable, flowing robe of a deep shade of purple with runes embroidered in yellow thread, that she threw over her bedclothes. Kara couldn’t be sure if the robe was intended for a man or a woman.

I suppose that’s often the case, given how wizards dress.

One of the drawers slid out to reveal a selection of undergarments; men’s and women’s – some particular items causing her to blush a deep red – and the panel below that opened to reveal an impressive collection of shoes. As she slid on a comfortable pair of slippers she wondered if Ozymun had guests often, and if he remembered what he had filled the wardrobe with before he invited her to use the room. She also wondered what sort of wages a court-wizard made.

She left the relative comfort of the chamber and, listening intently, made her way down the stairs. The door to the dining room was open as Ozymun had promised. Tentatively, she edged down the stairs, peering into the room as it came into view inch by inch. There were no wizards to be seen, but across the table lay a rich spread of pastries, fruits and cheeses. She almost lost a slipper in her rush to sit down and dig in. She started with a pastry; a flat bread-thing which she lathered generously with butter before bringing to her mouth. It was sweeter and more buttery than anything she had eaten with the troupe. That was followed up by a fistful of grapes, a sip of orange juice and then another pastry, this one already topped with strawberry jam. Her jaw was struggling to chew at the rather unreasonable pace her hands were setting, always reaching for the next morsel.

“I trust everything is to your liking.”

Kara shot up in her seat, juice from a pomegranate dribbling down her chin.

“So sorry to startle you. Please, enjoy your breakfast. It’s the least I can do after the… misunderstanding yesterday. I’ll be in my study, upstairs. Please join me once you have finished.”

“Thank you” Kara muttered, trying not to spit out her mouthful of partially chewed fruit and bread. The wizard made a graceful bowing motion, then turned for the door and strode through it.

Idiot.

Once the door had safely closed Kara’s heart returned to beating at a normal rhythm. She took a second to make sure no food had been spilt down Ozymun’s robe when he came in.

Only a little… is that orange juice? I’m sure he didn’t notice.

She finished up a couple of fruits and one last pastry, this one filled with cream, then a final swig of orange juice and she made for the door, brushing crumbs from the robe as she went. Through the door, up the curving stairway and then through another door, she found herself bathed in an eerily familiar green glow. It was the same room in which she had encountered the golem the evening of the day before last. Most of the debris had been cleared away since then, but scorch marks emanated outwards from where the golem had once stood. They told the story quite concisely. Ample empty spaces upon shelves also indicated to the wizard’s stocks being recently depleted. For a moment Kara felt guilty about that, until she remembered what several of those shelves had held. Her thoughts moved to the window.

If I climbed up from this floor I could climb down from it. But Ozymun is in there.

Kara looked down to her slippers, doubtful about their suitability for exfiltration, then knocked on the door to the study. There was no answer. She knocked again, louder, but nothing stirred on the other side.

Opening it, no sunlight came to clash with the unnatural green.

No window. Not anymore, at least.

The window-frame remained in the same place it had, but stone now covered the portal, as if the blocks from the tower had warped to fill the gap. It was obviously Ozymun’s work. Whether it had been to prevent Kara from escaping or simply to close the hole she could not be certain. There was also no Ozymun in sight. Only shelves of books and scrolls.

I suppose this isn’t his study.

Kara made for the other door, next to the one she had come through. Another curving stairway, another oak door, and on the other side another offensively luxurious room. It was a deluxe amalgamation of library, study and bedroom. There were bookcases lining almost every wall, an ornate desk carved from some dark imported wood Kara didn’t recognise, a grand fireplace and a king-sized four-posted bed all brushing shoulders and making the room seem crowded. It was all fitted neatly into a space more cramped than downstairs, as across from the entrance another door led out onto a terrace. Stepping out, Kara looked upon a modest table, some pine chairs and perhaps the most breath-taking view she had ever seen. The sun was at its zenith, and the midday sky was brighter and more cerulean than she had ever seen it. The sea, too, was a swirling mix of deep blue from the depths and white at the crests of waves. The red tiles of the buildings of Tarwall shone brilliantly in the light. It was out there she found Ozymun, standing watch over it all.

Kara moved to beside him, her eyes ensnared by the wonderous panorama and her lungs happily lapping up the bracing sea air. Ozymun turned to look at her. She returned his gaze, and then remembered to close her mouth.

Idiot.

“It makes for quite the sight, doesn’t it? Then again, I suppose you’ve already caught a glimpse of it.”

Kara felt her cheeks flush, and it did not escape the wizard’s attention.

“I am sorry. That was callous of me. How about this; I’ll answer one of your questions, then you can answer one of mine. Before long we might both fully understand the situation we find ourselves in. How does that sound?”

“That sounds fair.”

Ozymun’s smile was warm, but she detected suspicion in his eyes. He was either judging her or his decision to bring her here. She couldn’t tell which.

“Excellent. In the spirit of fairness, you can ask the first question.”

“Why are you being so nice to me?”

Ozymun took a pause before he answered.

He’s choosing his wording carefully.

“You are rather unique. As a man of the world I am intrigued by uniqueness. Drawn by it.”

Kara said nothing.

A carefully worded answer that answered nothing.

She did not break her gaze. Lo’ffen had taught her to let silence do the work for her in these situations.

“Very well. You are a Warith. In the grand scheme of things, that is not all that special. There have been others before you, there will be others after you. But you are descended from a Djinn, and theory states that Djinn are the most powerful of the Genie. Furthermore, you are two generations apart from this Djinn. That is something that has not been written about at all, as far as I am aware. There are discoveries to be made.”

“So you want to be the one who makes these discoveries?”

“Precisely.”

“And that’s why you were asking so many questions yesterday? And why you want to ask more now?”

“Correct again. Though I do believe we agreed on one question each. Thus far you have asked three and I have asked none.”

Kara flushed again.

“No need to worry. We’ll count those as one. Now; my turn. Have you ever met this grandfather of yours?”

“Never.”

“So you’ve never been to Ramal?”

“Never. My question; why do you have so many women’s clothes in your guest’s chambers?”

Kara knew it wasn’t the most pressing matter, but she didn’t know when else she would get a chance.

“I have guests, sometimes. Some of them are women. I like to think myself a good host, and good hosts provide for their guests.”

Kara nodded.

He didn’t miss a beat. I don’t suppose he would have fit into some of those items anyway.

As much as it amused her, the notion of the cross-dressing wizard was put to rest.

“Have you ever felt a connection to your grandfather? Do you feel like he is aware of you?”

It was something Kara had thought about before, but she had no decisive answers. She felt a sudden nervousness, as if the hairs on the back of her neck would rise again and she would feel the gaze.

“I don’t think so.”

Not a great answer. And more honest than it should have been.

If Ozymun was disappointed by it, he gave no outward sign.

“I see. But a Djinn really is incredibly powerful. You don’t think he could discover you if he tried to?”

“I don’t know why he would ever try.”

Ozymun took a moment to contemplate that; in spite of the magnificent view in front of them, his eyes were focused entirely on the floor of the terrace.

“Am I free to go?”

In an instant Ozymun’s eyes rose to meet hers, but there was no immediate answer.

Is this a question he needs to think that hard about?

Kara started to plan out her wording were she to use it, if it came to that.

“Of course,” he smiled, “but I was hoping to ask a few more questions first.”

“Very well.”

“Why did you… melt your way into my tower?”

“I’m a thief. You already knew that.”

“Well yes, but I cannot deduce why my tower. And why would you sneak past shelves upon shelves of valuable scrolls without taking a single one?”

“That’s two questions.”

“Both of which you have not answered yet.”

Kara needed to think quickly. The wizard was showing her mercy, but he had something to gain from her.

Would he be so kind to the troupe if he knew their role in this? He needs me, he doesn’t need them.

“I’ll tell you what I was after. I won’t tell you who I work for. And I can’t tell you who sought our services as I don’t know.”

“A loyal thief.”

He sounded amused.

“Deal.”

“I was told to find your journal. My employer gave me my instructions and the acid. I don’t know who paid him.”

“Rufford.”

Ozymun didn’t need a second to decide who Turner’s patron had been.

“Who is Rufford?”

“Is that your question?”

“Was that yours?”

The wizard laughed.

“We find ourselves in a loop. Very well. He is another member of the Duke’s court. A rival of sorts. He would stand the best chance of aggrandisement were I to fall from the Duke’s good graces. He might even inherit this tower. Needless to say that would be most unfortunate.”

Whatever is in his journal, suddenly I want to read it.

“Now, your question.”

If he feels any wrath, it seems directed towards this rival, and not the troupe. They should be safe.

“There was a theatrical troupe just outside the city. Do you know how long they will stay in town?”

“Your friends, I assume? I'm afraid they departed yesterday. Didn’t give a single performance. It was most peculiar, but I think I understand why now.”

Ozymun said some other things, but Kara heard none of them. Inside her mind there was only silence, and the echo of her heartbeat getting louder and faster.

They left?

It didn’t make any sense. She thought about Turner; all the times she had stolen for him, all the near misses, all the situations he’d put her in, all the times she had had to use it.

“She’ll do it because we’re her family” he’d said.

He didn’t even wait a day.

She thought about Lo’ffen and Bull.

They didn’t leave. They wouldn’t have. They’ll be in the city, looking for me.

That thought calmed her, slightly. She looked down at hands, aching; her fists were clenched so hard her knuckles were white, and she hadn’t noticed. She looked to Ozymun, his robe blowing in the wind.

He looks alarmed. Was I that angry?

“As… as I was saying; it seems you have time to spare and I have a task that needs completing. A task that requires someone with your talents. Would you consider doing one job for me? I can promise I pay better than mummers do.”

Kara nodded. If she was to find Lo’ffen and Bull in a city this size she would need money or favours. Doing this she could earn both.