As the last of the daze retreated, Geor sat on stool looking around the room at the top of the tower. To the naked eye, nothing seemed amiss, but deep down there was something terribly unsettling reverberating through the walls.

Although he had very little memory of what happened down in the vault, he knew without a doubt that the magic was still streaming through the firmament unabated. If he didn't get back down there and stop the leak soon, nobody knew what would happen. That much magic unleashed upon the world all at once would spell disaster.

The tap, tap, tap of Harpyn’s foot finally caught his attention, and he looked up at the young face.

"What is it?"

Harpyn hesitated before saying, "Well, it's just—"

"Out with it,” Geor commanded impatiently.

“That room. What does…"

“I’ve already told you. That room is nothing special, and you need not worry about it."

Harpyn did not look convinced by Geor’s proclamation, but Geor was clearly not ready to tell Harpyn the truth. The truth was, that room contained every magical artifact Geor had collected since the end of the War of the Seven Citadels.

He himself had been protecting the artifacts, and he feared what might happen if they ended up in the hands of the people once again. More specifically, he feared what might happen if they ended up in the hands of one young mage who wasn't quite ready to be put to the test.

Geor knew that each of those artifacts was tied back to one of the seven citadels, and by extension, to the seven mythical beings that had been summoned, which ultimately destroyed half of Andrysfal. Even just one such beast returning to the mortal world would be a disaster. That was why it was so important for him to seal the leak and seal those artifacts away for forever.

Now though, he would have to come up with another distraction to keep Harpyn out of his hair while he worked. He didn't suppose he could send Harpyn out on another errand so soon, but perhaps a good bit of dusting would help build the young mage’s character.

Geor’s eyes landed on the parcel that still sat untouched on the table beside him.

"Hand it here, boy," he ordered.

Harpyn nudged the parcel toward him, and Geor grabbed the twine, pulling it free and laying out the paper wrapping, peering at its contents. His lips worked and he mumbled and hummed quietly to himself as he lifted each item one by one, inspecting it for quality.

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When he was done, he glanced sideways at Harpyn, who sat anxiously bouncing his knee on another stool, waiting.

"Good. This will do."

In truth, this would not do at all. The powdered ivory was nowhere to be seen, and the chimera teeth were also missing. Without them, the next magical leak might be too powerful for him to stop.

Nevertheless, he was too distracted to issue another lecture to Harpyn about failing to meet expectations. Instead, he needed to get Harpyn out of his beard so that he could go downstairs and finish what he started.

“What now, Mage Consul?" Harpyn asked, his eyes beaming with excitement.

Geor nearly groaned disapprovingly, but managed to suppress it. Harpyn was a fool all right, but he supposed a little praise wouldn't be such a bad thing for the boy’s self-esteem.

"The library needs dusting. I can practically hear the old tomes wailing about the indignity of being allowed to gather so much dust. Why don't to see to that and I am going to go clean up."

“Are you sure? You still look a little pale. Do you want me to help you?"

Geor waved him off, shaking his head.

"No, no, I'll be fine. See to the library."

Harpyn gave him another curious look, his eyes darting to the parcel and back, but he seemed to decide against arguing and hopped down off the stool instead. For the first time since his arrival, Harpyn set about his chores with relative enthusiasm, and Geor sighed with relief.

He spent a little time bumbling about the workroom, tidying things here and there. He did not want to give Harpyn reason to suspect him, knowing that the young mage would insist on following him downstairs. Instead, he put away the items that Harpyn had managed to retrieve and took inventory of his stock, trying not to be alarmed by the shortage of items now in his cabinet.

Ever since the first tear had opened in the firmament, it had been a race against time. Geor knew that the magic yearned to be free. He could feel it surging against its prison, seeking any weakness to open a new breach. The world just wasn’t ready. It may never be ready again.

After awhile, Harpyn had moved deeper into the library, seemingly content with his task. Geor listened for a moment to make sure he would not be interrupted, and then he moved cautiously back toward the tower stairs, careful to avoid the steps that might make a sound. He felt like a child again, sneaking about in his own home to avoid being caught, but there was nothing to be done about it. Well, he supposed he could have placed a spell upon Harpyn to put him to sleep or something, but he knew he needed every bit of his strength if he was going to face the vault again.

With slow, steady movements, he rounded the spiral steps, mumbling to himself all the way about those damned artifacts and their mischievous ways. This time would be different. This time he would show them that he meant business. He was the Mage Consul, after all, and even the ancient spirits could not be let to get away with such insolence.

When he spotted the vault door, still visible and left slightly ajar, he jumped with fright. Fool! How had he forgotten to shut the door? Why hadn’t Harpyn shut it? Was the young mage planning to sneak back down in his own time? Perhaps he’d hoped that Geor would not recover so quickly.

Instantly, the Mage Consul was filled with distrust and anxiety. If the door had been left open, the artifacts might have taken it upon themselves to go seeking new masters. Of course, he had placed a ward on the door downstairs, and there was only so much a sword and a whip could manage on their own, but still… anything could have happened.

A crash came from behind the vault door, and Geor froze, fearing that his worst nightmares were coming true.