C7 Chapter 7: In the Lion's Den

What a day, Nikko thought on his way to visit the Order. He had to first make his way back to the gate, then trek another hour up the side of the mountain. At least he had

plenty of time to think everything through.

He was uncertain about the best way to help Fydal, although whatever he did, he knew he wouldn't have much time to do it. On the other hand, things could go well with the sorcerers of the Order, and he might be able to ask them for help. One word from the Order, and the young prince would be standing in front of the king before he knew it. At least, that was what Nikko speculated.

Then his thoughts turned to Peryndor again, and his newfound certainty that the mysterious letter had been written by the Archmage. Of course, Nikko still didn't know what the letter had contained. But from all he had been able to put together, it was highly probable that it had been a warning. It looked like Peryndor was on Thorodos's side in a conflict, the nature of which was hidden from the young sorcerer. Perhaps it would be wiser to seek out Peryndor first? But he had already lost hours by deciding to visit the embassy; no doubt they were expecting his presence at the Order.

It was afternoon by the time Nikko reached the elaborate iron door in the high wall that seemed to enclose the entire estate of the Order. Too deep in thought to really be afraid, he knocked firmly on the door. Moments later, an elderly man appeared and allowed him to enter, but did not say a word. The man—just a servant, Nikko guessed—shuffled slowly toward the complex of buildings, perhaps ten stone's throws from the gate. Although the man said nothing, Nikko suspected that he had to follow him.

After a few minutes, they reached a construction that was probably meant to be the main building. At the very least, it certainly looked like the largest building of the entire complex; it was crowned by the massive dome that Nikko had already admired from a distance. Silently, the old man opened a magnificent wooden door, gestured to Nikko to enter, then closed it behind him again, locking it from the outside. Nikko was alone again, and felt anxiety and confusion welling up inside him.

He took a few deep breaths, which gave him back a little pluck and slowed his pulse a little, then looked around. He was in a huge hall washed by a bluish glow from the sunlight that fell through the many colored windows. The hall was high and elongated, with an artfully vaulted ceiling supported by ornate columns in two rows. The room was perhaps twenty or thirty paces from one end to the other, and at the far end was a second door, and beside it a desk, behind which a man in a red robe sat. The man seemed engrossed in his papers, and seemed to have not yet noticed Nikko.

Summoning up his courage, the young sorcerer walked through the long hall toward the desk, where the man still seemed not to have realized he was there. Or was he consciously ignoring the young Novice?

“Hello, sir,” Nikko said, his voice trembling, when he was standing directly in front of the desk.

The man looked up. “And here you are at last, Novice” he said, sounding bored. He was well-groomed, and Nikko guessed he was in his late thirties. “We've been expecting you for quite a while.”

“Forgive me,” Niko said fearfully. “I only received your letter yesterday evening.”

“Doesn't matter,” the man said dismissively. He had black hair and a neatly trimmed full beard. “My name is Kalih, Master, first grade.

Master Sahil is waiting for you, and he is not a patient man.”

There it was again, the Master-grade. Sinúl in Terys had also introduced himself as Master of a certain grade. What did that mean?

“Follow me!” Kalih's sudden command was harsh as he stood and moved toward the door beside the desk.

But instead of leading Nikko directly to Master Sahil, he first took him into a small waiting room, then left him there for what felt like an eternity. It was an eternity in which Nikko's courage increasingly waned, and he gave in more and more to his doubts.

After a long time—it might have been hours—Kalih returned and said, “Master Sahil is ready to see you now. Follow me!”

Nikko followed the master through many corridors and passageways, up several stairways, down others. The entire building was built in an incomprehensible fashion, but Master Kalih seemed to know exactly where he was going. Now and then, cowled figures crossed their path; mostly they were dressed in red or blue, occasionally black or white. But not a single robe—apart from his own— was brown. Were the novices accommodated somewhere else, perhaps?

Finally, they reached their goal. They stopped in front of a massive double door made of shimmering metal, and Master Kalih rapped three times, hard. After a brief moment, the doors opened by themselves and Nikko, in a cold sweat, followed the Master inside.

The room looked strange. Despite several large windows allowing plenty of daylight to enter and the afternoon sun shining directly into the room, there were shadows in many places where light really should have been. But a large table at the rear of the room was brightly lit, and two men were already sitting at it.

Kalih indicated to Nikko that he was to sit on the chair in front of the large table, while Kalih himself took a seat beside the two men on the other side. From where Nikko sat, Kalih was on the left. Beside him sat a clean-shaven, ancient man with a bald pate, and next to him sat a man of perhaps fifty, with a graying beard and receding hair. The sorcerer in the center wore a black robe ornamented with silver embroidery. The man on the right was dressed in a blue robe with red embroidery. Nikko, completely intimidated, felt deeply threatened by the three men sitting opposite.

“My name is Sahil, Master, ninth grade,” said the man in the middle. “On my left is Quaxtár, Master, fifth grade, and to my right is Kalih, Master, first grade, whom you have already met.”

More Masters, more grades. Apparently, the higher one's grade, the higher one's rank in the Order. Was he sitting opposite one of the highest ranking sorcerers of the Order?

“I am Novice Nikko from Vyldoro, in Hocatin,” Nikko said, introducing himself when the Master fell silent for a few moments.

“Master Sinúl has announced you,” Master Sahil said. “But he had very little to report about you. So why not tell us a little about yourself.”

The Master seemed very nice, and Nikko suddenly felt much more at ease. The old man seemed oddly familiar, and more importantly, Nikko had the feeling he could trust him. He felt an urge to tell the nice man everything. But why? Well, because he would feel so relieved to finally get everything off his chest.

But hold on! He was sitting opposite three powerful sorcerers. He would have to watch his step here. He didn't like the idea that they might have cast some spell on him! He would have to weigh his words carefully. Thorodos's death was still clear in his mind, and it was certainly possible that the men sitting in front of him were behind that.

The master in the middle suddenly nodded and a smile flickered across his thin lips. Had Nikko done something right? Had he just passed a test?

“Let me help you,” said Sahil. “What is of most interest to us is how you know about your talent.”

Uh-oh, Nikko thought. Now he would have to tell them about the wand. If the subject were to turn to Thorodos, he might well be in mortal danger! Perhaps he could distract their attention with less important details.

“I used to have a wand that I could create lightning with,” he explained. “Then someone I know told me that only sorcerers were able to use such wands.”

“Tell me more about the wand,” said the Master, suddenly very interested.

“Master Sinúl took it away from me.”

“I see,” said Sahil, with some annoyance, although his chagrin did not seem to be directed at Nikko.

“It looks like old Sinúl forgot to mention a few details,” said Quaxtár. “The wand is probably gracing his own collection now!”

“That can be rectified,” said Master Sahil drily. “Tell me, Novice, where did you get the wand in the first place?”

Damn it, thought Nikko. He had hoped they would simply move on. Was he supposed to lie? No, that could get him into serious trouble. It seemed to him that the straight road was the best: tell the truth. But still only as much as absolutely necessary.

“It came from the estate of an old man,” Nikko said, and was immediately annoyed at himself. Such a stupid answer would only lead to more questions about the old man! How could he be so stupid?

“Which old man?” the Master asked. Of course.

“Just an old man who lived in our village,” Nikko said, trying to play down the story, but he was forced to realize that he would not be able to avoid saying Thorodos's name.

“Ah,” the Master said. He seemed to have boundless patience. “And did the old man have a name, too?”

“Thorodos,” said Nikko, as casually as he could. “If I remember right.”

He could at least hope that they might assume that the old man had simply left the wand in his hut. If they didn't ask him about Thorodos's attempt to escape, he might still get out of there in one piece. He hoped that Thorodos's murderer had not reported that the old man had not been alone, and also that the cruel sorcerer in the black cowl did not recognize him. There was a grave risk that he might cross paths with the murderer at any time, he now realized. Damn it … He would have been better off going directly to Peryndor after all.

“You did not know him very well, this Thorodos?” Sahil asked, his tone probing, provocative.

Did the old sorcerer in front of him already know too much? Nikko had to watch his step.

“I helped him out occasionally,” he said meekly. “Cleaning and tidying up.”

“I see,” the Master murmured. “That's all?”

What was Nikko supposed to say? He gulped, his fear growing by the second.

“Don't you think the youngster's spent enough time on the rack?” said Quaxtár suddenly, with an unpleasant grin, but at least his words promised Nikko some kind of relief.

“I had no idea that the old crook had helped himself to our collection,” Master Sahil said. “Perhaps we need to take thorough stock of what we still have. Who knows what else has gone missing.” He smiled, then said, “Anything you'd like to add, Master Xanthúal?”

“Just that the little rat was helping the apostate escape and deserves to die for it,” answered a familiar voice from a dark corner of the room, where Nikko now realized that another sorcerer had been concealing himself.

At first, Nikko did not understand what was going on. But he knew that voice! Then a figure stepped out of the shadows and joined the other sorcerers at the table. It was him! The cruel wizard in the black robe who had had Thorodos shot. What kind of miserable game are they playing with me? Nikko wondered.

“Oh, I'm afraid I completely forgot to introduce Xanthúal, Master, second grade,” Sahil said, feigning innocence. “But I think you know each other already, don't you?”

Nikko felt paralyzed with shock and fear. He could not say a word, though he had no words to say in any case. Was his young life over here and now?

“I had hoped our reunion might be a happier moment for you, Novice,” Xanthúal said with a nasty smirk. “But enough with the games.”

“I agree,” said Sahil. “Enough games. No need to be afraid, Novice. If we had wanted you dead, it would have happened long ago.”

“Why do you think I stopped the bounty hunters from getting rid of you as a witness?” Xanthúal asked. “Thorodos's execution was absolutely within the law, but the guild doesn't like … spectators. Yes, Novice, I protected you. I saved your life. Never forget that!” “But why?” Nikko managed to ask.

“It would have been a waste,” Master Sahil explained. “Novices don't grow on trees.”

“But I want you to be very clear on one point,” Xanthúal warned. “For you, there is only one way that does not lead to your untimely death, and that is the way of the Arcane Order. If you stray a single step from this path, then take my word for it: you will end up like Thorodos!”

“Let's get down to business,” Sahil said, taking over the meeting again. “Your apprenticeship. What has Master Thorodos already taught you?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing at all?”

“No.”

“All right. Master Quaxtár, if you would be so kind?”

“Of course,” Quaxtár said. “Within the Order, I am responsible for the allocation of Novices, and also make sure that they are properly trained. If you make it that far, you will return to me to complete your test to become an Adept. According to the old—and some would say, obsolete—laws, you have the right to seek out a master for yourself. You may, however, only ask one master. If he rejects you, then it is up to me to allocate you to a Master. Of course, I can also assign you to a Master immediately. I know who would be a good teacher and who would not, after all.”

“I want to train him,” Xanthúal offered enthusiastically. “His life belongs to me anyway!”

“Don't exaggerate, Master Xanthúal,” Sahil admonished his colleague. “But all right. What do you think, Master Quaxtár?”

Quaxtár laughed. “Good, Master Xanthúal. If you are getting sick of hunting apostates, then an apprentice would certainly be something to expand your horizons. And you're still young; I imagine you could handle an apprentice very well.”

Xanthúal? This filthy murderer? No, that was too much for Nikko. Saved his life? Ha! The man was no more than a common killer. He was the last sorcerer that Nikko would want to train him.

“Well then, Novice Nikko,” said Quaxtár. “Do you accept Master Xanthúal as your teacher?”

Spontaneously, Nikko said, “I want Peryndor.”

“What!?” Xanthúal snapped. “Who do you think you are, you insolent little—”

“Silence!” Sahil interrupted. “Are you sure about that, Novice? Peryndor, Master, thirteenth grade and Archmage of Zundaj, is an exceptionally busy man.”

“Yes,” Nikko answered, his voice stronger.

“Impertinence!” said Quaxtár, shaking his head. “But he does have the right to ask. The old man will certainly turn him down, though.”

“And then you belong to me!” Xanthúal grinned spitefully. “I'll teach you something about respect!”

“Calm yourself, Master Xanthúal,” said Sahil. “The Novice has merely exercised his right. You cannot begrudge him that.”

“When can I see Peryndor?” Nikko asked. He yearned for the presumed protection of the Master he believed had tried to save Thorodos back then.

“Master Peryndor, Novice!” Xanthúal hissed.

“Grandmaster Peryndor, to be precise,” Sahil corrected both of them. “Why do you want to see him? We will pass on your request to him. But believe me, whether you see him or not, he will reject you.”

“I would like to put my request to him in person,” Nikko said insistently. He had no desire to trust these treacherous wizards.

“Does he have the right?” Xanthúal asked.

“He does,” Quaxtár confirmed. “Another one of those antiquated laws.”

“I doubt that we will be able to get the Grandmaster to come here today, however,” Sahil sighed. “I will send him an invitation for tomorrow. The matter is deferred until then. Master Kalih, please take our new Novice through the rooms of the Order and show him everything that he needs to know.”

“I can understand that having Xanthúal as your teacher would be … let's say less than ideal,” Kalih said as the two of them made their way through the countless passageways of the estate. “But Grandmaster Peryndor? You don't seriously believe that the Archmage will take you on as his apprentice?” After a few moments of silence, he continued, “It's not too late to reconsider. I can certainly name a few sorcerers who I think would be quite willing to accept your request. Even if it was just to aggravate Xanti.” He laughed unpleasantly. “I mean to say, you haven't actually asked the Archmage yet. It's not too late to decide otherwise.”

But Nikko's mind was made up. Who knew how trustworthy Kalih's offer was? He might come up with an even worse fate for Nikko. No, the sorcerers here were not to be trusted at all. After the sudden appearance of Thorodos's murderer, young Nikko sensed betrayal at every turn.

“The library,” the Master announced as they entered a huge hall, its high walls lined with bookshelves from floor to ceiling, with every shelf stuffed with books and scrolls. Ladders and small stairways that led to galleries offered access even to the highest compartments.

“You only have access to this hall once you're an Adept,” Kalih warned. “The Novices have their own library … with less advanced literature.”

Pity, thought Nikko. He had never seen so many books in his life and he would have liked nothing better than to take the first book that fell into his hands and read it from cover to cover. The thick volumes and dusty rolls were like a lodestone to him. What secrets were hidden inside them? But Kalih was already pushing the admiring youth out the door.

“Our laboratories,” Kalih declared a little later, when they reached a passage with a number of small chambers in which countless bottles, jars and pots were visible. “But alchemy will only be on your agenda a few years from now.”

At the sight of all the bottles, Nikko recalled the strange beverages that Thorodos had given him to drink. One had given him strength; the other had kept him warm. Had the old man perhaps learned the skill of making them here? Would he himself be able to brew drinks like that soon?

“The workshop,” said the Master. They had moved on to a different building via a roofed bridge. “In the past, this was used to create artifacts, which were then enchanted. Today, we just do the enchantments, if anything.”

“Why?” It was the first time Nikko had spoken since he had started the tour.

“No one has much interest in manufacturing artifacts anymore,” the Master explained. “And it isn't really our task as sorcerers to do so. Any craftsman can forge a sword or a suit of armor. Then we enchant what they've made. If the price is right.”

Enchantments! Nikko was thrilled at the idea. Maybe he'd be able to get a new sword for Fydal and enchant it for him, now that he'd had his stolen in the steppes. But if his first meeting with the sorcerers here was anything to go by, he could not count on them for help. Well, perhaps things would go a little better with Peryndor.

“And this is our storehouse,” Kalih said, when they had reached yet another building. “These rooms are off limits to you, too. You already have a robe. If you need anything, ask your Master.”

They left the building again, and when they were outside, Kalih gestured toward a large edifice with many towers. “And that is where the Masters live. That is also …”

“ …off limits?”

“You're not as stupid as you look,” the Master laughed. “Over there is where the Adepts are housed,” he said, pointing to another building. “But for the time being, that building is closed.”

“Why?”

“That,” Kalih said with a sniff, “is none of your business.”

They disappeared into another building, and Kalih, his tone almost solemn now, announced: “This is our banqueting hall. All the wizards of the Order gather here several times a year. Otherwise, you have no business being in here.”

The banqueting hall was gigantic. At one end, Nikko could make out a huge fireplace that he knew would fill the hall with a warm and dignified light. But right now, it was dim and cold, although countless high windows of colored glass provided some light. What a waste, to leave such a magnificent room practically unused.

“And here we are in the Novitiate's wing,” Kalih explained when they had moved on to yet another building. In a sterner tone, he warned, “From now on, you are forbidden from leaving this wing without permission. Don't forget that!”

The Master had quickly shown Nikko into a room, then left again.

Kalih had seemed less than happy about having to give the new Novice a guided tour in any case. Now, Nikko had the Novitiate's wing to himself, and he noticed that one thing was conspicuously lacking, namely other Novices. It was a riddle to him where the other apprentices could possibly be, but he had not found the courage to ask Kalih.

It was only early in the evening and Nikko was sitting alone in his room. The day had been a strenuous one for the young sorcerer, and all he wanted to do was slide under the covers. He did not even bother trying to find something to eat for dinner. But just as he was about to get into bed, there was a knock on the door.

“Come in,” he yawned, though he would have much preferred to be left alone.

“I hope I'm not disturbing you,” purred the voice Nikko recognized as that of the vile sorcerer, Xanti … something. He had forgotten the name again. Or suppressed it? What did the man want now?

Nikko said nothing.

“Oh, don't be so silly, Novice,” the man in the black robe said as he stepped into the room. “We should learn to get along. You won't have many opportunities to sidestep me here, after all.”

“What is it you want?”

“To talk to you. Why else would I be here? I can understand that our … relationship got off to a poor start, I really can. That scene with the old traitor must certainly have been … upsetting. And that discussion with Master Sahil this afternoon also left perhaps a … dubious impression. But we had to test your honesty.” He sat on a chair and gestured to Nikko to do the same. “But it was also very funny! For us, at least. Believe me, Novice, you will be able to laugh about it yourself, soon enough. Besides, you handled the questioning very bravely.”

For some moments, Nikko defiantly said nothing, and the older sorcerer continued: “You probably still think I did the traitor an injustice back then,” he said. “But I was just the executioner, not the judge. Thorodos only had himself to blame for his fate. There is only one path now for every sorcerer, whether Novice, Adept or Master, and that is the path of the Order. If a sorcerer strays from that, then it's the end for him.”

“What did Thorodos do that was so bad?” said Nikko.

“Since when do the affairs of the Arcane Council have anything to do with a mere Novice?” the Master said, then his voice turned harsh and he growled, “Take care what questions you ask!”

Nikko swallowed hard. The Master's answer frightened him, and he still had no clue of the man's true intentions. What did he want from Nikko?

“And will you finally stop being scared of me? You should have understood by now that all you have to fear is yourself! But be that as it may, one thing interests me …” He paused for a moment, then said, “Peryndor. Of all the sorcerers in this kingdom, what made you choose the Grandmaster as your teacher?”

“I don't know,” Nikko instinctively lied. “I don't know very many Masters.”

He hoped his answer wouldn't land him in hot water. Lying to a sorcerer like this one could be dangerous.

“Do you know Peryndor?”

“I heard his name somewhere,” Nikko spluttered. “They say he's the … Archmage of the city.”

“Of course,” the sorcerer replied, in a tone that made Nikko doubt very much if the sorcerer believed him. “And what makes you think that the Grandmaster might accept you as his apprentice?”

Nikko merely shrugged. He hoped that the forbidding man sitting opposite would finally be satisfied, but he didn't believe it. Then, very suddenly, he felt a sharp pain in his head. The dark sorcerer was staring at him with an almost hypnotic gaze. Was he trying to get into Nikko's mind? The pain sharpened, then vanished again as quickly as it had come.

“You should think very carefully about who you side with,” the sorcerer muttered. He sounded sullen and irritated. “There are Masters who can move you up quickly within the Order. And there are Masters who might cause you to suffer the Order's … displeasure.”

“And you are in the first group, of course,” Nikko said mockingly, finding a little courage. Somehow, he must have just won some kind of victory over the sorcerer, or he would not have reacted in such an aggrieved way.

“Of course.” The man seemed to have recovered his composure. “I serve the Order faithfully. If you are with me, you're with the Order. Do you think they would send just anyone out to hunt down apostates?” He laughed. “No, Novice. Only those who enjoy the full trust of the Council are even considered for a task that important. With me you'd be in good hands. But with Peryndor …”

“What about Peryndor?”

“He's hardly ever even here,” the master grinned. “He has precious little to do with the Order these days. Someone like him won't help you get very far here.” Then he let out a loud laugh. “But he'll refuse you in any case. Whereas I would certainly … induct you into the true spirit of the Order.”

Was that some kind of threat? The sorcerer seemed to be doubting Nikko's loyalty to the Order. And he seemed to suspect even Peryndor. Had the Archmage truly been on Thorodos's side? And what was this conflict really about?

“Do you doubt the Archmage's loyalty to the Order?” Nikko asked, trying to provoke the Master. He was getting fed up with the man's games and just wanted him to leave.

“Of course not,” the sorcerer replied in a tone of horror. “Watch what libels you accuse me of!”

“Then the Grandmaster would certainly be a good teacher for me,” Nikko said, taking courage from the Master's horrified reaction. “I'm sure you would not doubt his ability to … induct me into the true spirit of the Order.”

“Of course not,” the Master said. “Grandmaster Peryndor is a high-ranking member of the Order and would be an outstanding teacher. It's just a pity that he will never accept you. But I will do my best to be an equally worthy teacher for you.” With a nod, the sorcerer stood and slowly made his way out of the room. “Sleep well, Novice,” he said, and closed the door as he left.

Nikko was surprised at himself. He felt he had stood up well and given the sorcerer as good as he got. I hope I didn't overdo it, he fretted. After all, he certainly could not be sure that Peryndor would actually accept him as his apprentice. And if this repulsive Master were to become his teacher … Nikko did not even want to think about it.

The next morning, a servant brought him a lavish breakfast in his room, because the Novice's dining room was not open. But why not? Nikko didn't trust himself to ask too much, however; he was too uncertain about what was going on inside these strange walls.

While he was eating, Master Kalih came by and informed him that he was to visit Grandmaster Peryndor that afternoon in his residence, to put forward his request. He would be collected in good time and escorted to Peryndor's house. Until that time, he was not allowed to leave the Novitiate wing.

He spent the hours before lunch—which, again, he ate alone in his room—looking around the Novitiate wing. But there was little to see, because all the rooms were either empty or locked. More than anything, he'd been attracted by the small library with all its books, but he had had to admire it from the outside, because the iron-barred door was locked tight. After lunch, bored stiff, he decided to take a nap.

At some point in the afternoon, however, Master Kalih woke him, and the two of them finally set off for the Grandmaster's residence.

“You've certainly got some courage, asking someone like Grandmaster Peryndor if he will play teacher for you,” Kalih said during the walk to the Archmage's residence, which took them nearly an hour, and that was practically all he had to say. The Master, first grade, seemed to be the Order's errand boy, but did not look like he enjoyed the role.

Peryndor's estate was not huge, but certainly impressive. Everywhere Nikko looked were small watercourses and babbling fountains that fed the lush vegetation all around. The building itself was built over a number of levels and topped by several towers. Many large windows with intricate frames suggested the interior was very well lit. The Archmage seemed to have a decent livelihood, Nikko thought.

The interior of the building was as impressive as the exterior, and a smartly dressed servant showed them into a reception area where they were met by a no less smartly dressed gentleman who, in turn, led them into an office where an ancient man with a bushy beard and snow-white hair was waiting. The sorcerer was dressed in a white robe embroidered in gold and silver, but gave an impression of being extremely distracted.

“The visitors, as announced,” the servant said.

“Ah, yes, yes, right,” the old sorcerer said as if taken by surprise. “Then let them in, our visitors.”

“Grandmaster,” Kalih greeted the old man; he seemed rather daunted. “We have met only fleetingly. I am Kalih, Master, first grade, escorting Novice Nikko, who has been presumptuous enough to select you as his teacher.”

“Presumptuous?” Peryndor asked, his voice steady and calm now. “The first Novice in more than ten years can get away with quite a lot, young Master.”

“Of course, Grandmaster,” Kalih excused himself, his face flushing crimson.

The first Novice in more than ten years? That at least explained why the Novitiate wing was so empty. But why were there no more apprentices? Something about this strange Order wasn't right.

“Now then, young Novice,” the Grandmaster said, turning to Nikko. “I am certainly honored that you have selected me as your teacher. But I am an extremely old man and have far too much to do as it is. I am afraid I am going to have to let you down.”

“There, you see!?” Kalih grinned spitefully. Apparently he had overcome his timidity.

“May I speak with you alone for a moment, Grandmaster?” Nikko asked.

“An unusual request, but why not?” Peryndor replied. Then he gazed at Kalih until, with an irate expression, the younger sorcerer left the room. “Now then, Novice. What do you have to say to me that is so important?”

Nikko had no idea where to even start. At best, he could only hope that he had not completely miscalculated Peryndor's role in this game, that the messenger had not erred in identifying the seal, and that he wasn't digging his own grave here and now.

The seal, he suddenly thought. He took it out, his hands shaking, and presented both halves to the sorcerer.

“Ah,” was all the old man said after looking at the remains of the seal. Then, suddenly extremely interested, he asked, “It seems to me that you are holding my seal in your hands.”

Nikko tried to say something, but no words came out. He seemed to be paralyzed right at the moment in which everything would be decided.

“I send many letters, but none to Novices,” the Master went on when he saw that Nikko could say nothing. “I am not known for my patience, young Novice. Which letter are we talking about?”

“The one to Thorodos,” said Nikko, playing the only card he had, and surprised at his own courage. Now it was out! And now his fate would be settled once and for all.

Peryndor was silent for a long moment, and all Nikko could do was sweat. The longer the Archmage said nothing, the more the young sorcerer's confidence faded. But what did the pause mean? Then the old man suddenly bellowed “Master Kalih!” Why was he calling for Kalih? Was Kalih supposed to—?

When Master Kalih appeared and knocked gingerly on the doorframe, Peryndor said, “You can come in again,” interrupting the terrible visions playing out in Nikko's head. “I have changed my mind,” the old man immediately announced, his tone solemn. “Tell Master Quaxtár that the Novice will be my student and that he will be staying with me.” But Kalih just stood there with astonishment on his face. “You may leave,” said the old man. Then, almost mockingly, he added, “Master, first grade.”

End of Book III

Looking ahead …

“I have to congratulate you on passing your examination, Adept Nikko,” Sahil said, with a pained smile, but then his tone turned deadly serious. “But we are not here to exchange pleasantries. We have summoned you here to answer a number of questions. Questions that relate to matters that you should have been more open with us about the first time we met!”

“Just so we're extremely clear: your fate hangs by a thread, Adept,” Master Gilhatán said. “It is not yet too late for you. The Order can also show mercy, if it is earned.”

Nikko could already imagine what they were talking about. They wanted him to betray Peryndor! But was the offer of mercy genuine?

“Then ask your questions, Master,” Nikko said, and swallowed hard. He had not yet made up his mind about whether he would hand Peryndor over. The old man would certainly know how to defend himself, but he had also given Nikko a home and trained him. Most importantly, he had spared him from being Xanthúal's apprentice.

“Good,” said Sahil. “Why did Master Thorodos suddenly abandon the village in the mountains?”

Time to decide. Speak the truth, which would inevitably lead to Peryndor being uncovered. Or risk the lies. No, he could not betray the old man!

“I don't know,” he said boldly. “Thorodos never talked about things like that with me.”

A lot had changed since the first time he had sat there. Now, the young Adept could sense when they were trying to read his mind. He had even learned new patterns that could reveal a lie. He could only hope that Peryndor's trinkets kept their promise.

“I can detect no will to deceive,” Master Gilhatán said with a sigh. “The Adept seems to be telling the truth, although I find his words very hard to believe.”

“The little bastard is lying through his teeth!” Xanthúal barked. “Don't forget, he's been dealing with a Master, thirteenth grade. Who knows what tricks he's learned to conceal his brazen lies!”

“You may be right, Master Xanthúal,” Sahil grinned. “But there are other ways to uncover the truth.”

“It would be an honor,” Xanthúal grinned, a fiery gleam in his eye.

“The adept is allowed one last—one very last—chance to divulge the entire traitorous plot,” Gilhatán cut in unexpectedly. “So?”

Nikko knew he was in serious trouble. But what if they were only bluffing?

“I really don't know a thing,” Nikko said, and exhaled; he tried to squeeze a few tears out of his eyes.

“Enough!” Sahil shook his head, then in voice that chilled Nikko to the core, he said, “Master Xanthúal, the traitor is all yours. Once he's told us everything … get rid of the body.”

“As you wish,” Xanthúal nodded. Then he turned to Nikko and grinned. “You and me. Now we're really going to have some fun!”