The next morning was bright and sunny, and Drake jumped up out of bed feeling rested and refreshed, much better than he'd felt for months. He chanted praises to Samnos as he washed in a bowl of water left by the maid and got dressed, looking forward to meeting the people he'd met the night before. He approved of them a lot, and not just because they'd recovered the holy Sceptre of Samnos, most powerful of all the holy weapons belonging to his faith, even more powerful than the fabled Sword of Retribution. No, there was a basic goodness to them, a basic honesty and sincerity that strongly appealed to him, even that demi shae who occasionally displayed a strong streak of chaotic mischievousness.

     There was no question of his becoming real friends with them, of course. As a priest of Samnos, he had to maintain a discreet distance from them, an aloofness that would enable him to maintain his strict objectivity. All forms of friendship coloured one's judgement, and so were not permitted to priests of Samnos except for the camaraderie between fellow warriors that was required to create and maintain an effective fighting unit. Romantic love was also outlawed, even between those rare couples who were allowed to marry and raise a family in order to maintain a successful bloodline. He felt no regret or resentment at this, however. It had been carefully explained to him when he'd first applied to join the priesthood, and he'd understood and agreed to it unhesitatingly. He was allowed to like people, however, to enjoy their company, and he liked these people a lot, even after such a short time of knowing them.

     Descending to the public restaurant area, he found them relaxing in armchairs again, waiting for one of the merchants to come and tell them that the caravan was ready to leave. Two of the wizards were studying spellbooks, memorizing spells that had changed since the last time they'd read them, while the third was poring over some papers he'd taken from a box, leaving the cleric and her brothers chatting together at the next table. They looked up as he entered and waved him over to join them, but just as he was about to sit down next to them, he noticed something strange about the papers the blue wizard was studying.

     He'd known other wizards back in Ilandia and had occasionally looked over their shoulders while they studied their spellbooks, and the writing on the papers the blue wizard was reading had the same arcane look to it, gave him the same quivering feeling deep in the pit of his stomach. It was magical writing, he realised. The blue wizard, like his colleagues, was studying a spell. He knew Lexandrian spellbooks, though. The spellbooks held by the demi shae and the nome were typical of their kind, being dark blue with a black spine and with the emblem of the University on the cover and the seal of the Magister on the back. Whatever spells the blue wizard was studying, therefore, they weren't University spells. Curious and alarmed, Drake sat down next to him.

     "Good morning," said Thomas, lowering the creased and stained sheet of paper but keeping a firm hold of it with one hand while the other held the box it had come from. "Hope you had a pleasant night." Then he noticed the expression on the priest's face. "What's wrong?"

     "Where did you get that box?" asked Drake. "Where did you get those papers?"

     "This?" said Thomas. "Shaun gave it to us. It belonged to the sholog wizard on the island fish we told you about. He had no further use for it, so we took it.” He showed him the box, and turned it around to show him the seal of the Magister on the back. The same seal that was on the back of their spellbooks. The seal that allowed the Magister to maintain a connection to the spells it contained and update them as necessary. He saw the frown on the priest's face had deepened. “Why? Is something wrong?"

     "I thought it was the policy of University wizards to turn in any spellbooks or scrolls they found or captured from other wizards," said Drake. "Particularly nonhuman wizards. You are aware, I presume, that most non-University wizards are rank amateurs, whose spells have a habit of backfiring on their casters, and that humanoid wizards are worse than most. The spells in that box may well be faulty, and therefore dangerous. Your teachers at the University will teach you any new spells you want when you go back there. Why do you take a risk like this?"

     "How come you know so much about wizards?" asked Thomas defensively.

     "There are University wizards in Fort Battleaxe," replied Drake. "They told me all about the dangers of picking up strange spells. I think you should send that box to the University immediately, for safe disposal."

     "Thanks for the advice," said Thomas coldly. "However, I'm aware of the dangers and I know what precautions to take. Look, there are mid level spells in here. Most of them are still way beyond me, but I've just about got this one inside me, and as soon as I have, I can copy it into my own spellbook. This is just too good an opportunity to miss. If war breaks out, I probably won't be able to go back to the University until it's all over, and that might take years. You understand?"

     "I understand that the spells in that box are dangerous and that you should get rid of them," said Drake, his eyes growing hard. "There are plenty of University wizards around who would be only too pleased to share their spells with you, there's no need for you to get them from such a dangerous source. Therefore, I insist that you get rid of that spellbox. Do you understand?"

     "You're not serious!" cried Thomas in disbelief. "We only met yesterday, and you're already bossing us around! Well, you're concern is appreciated, but I think I'll take the risk. Like I said, this is simply too good an opportunity to miss."

     "I said I insist, and I meant it," said Drake, holding out his hand. "Hand it over."

     Thomas opened his mouth to argue further, but one look at the priest's face was enough to tell him that he'd be wasting his breath. For one brief, insane moment he thought about casting a sleep spell on the priest, to show him what it meant to cross a wizard, but he'd still be in the same situation when he woke up, except that the priest would be considerably angrier. Also, he thought it likely that the big priest would be able to overpower him before he could complete the spell, resulting with him being the one learning the lesson in humility.

     Swallowing his pride, therefore, he placed the sheet of paper back in the box, closed it and locked it before handing it over, trying, as he did so, not to give away any hint that he'd already managed to read the mid level spell. What was more, he had bought a few cockatrice feathers and some pre mixed magic ink from a local alchemist a few days before, so all he needed was a few quiet hours alone to copy the spell into his own spellbook. If the priest somehow found out, though, he would prevent him from doing so, and a spell not written in a spellbook would not be updated by the Magister when it changed. It might take a day or a week, but sooner or later the spell would become useless to him. Fortunately, the priest was fairly young and inexperienced and so didn't notice the deception.

     As Drake left the room with the box, to find a messenger to take it to the University, Thomas winked at Jerry and Lirenna, who winked back. They had all been eager to learn the new mid level spells, and so the other two wizards had taken a sholog spell each and placed them between the pages of their own spellbooks so that all three of them could study at leisure. They had lost all the other spells, but the ones they'd chosen to study had been the ones they'd been most excited by, the ones they thought they had the best chance of learning and mastering. They struggled to keep straight faces as the priest returned a few minutes later, therefore, satisfied by this first test of his authority.

     The incident was soon forgotten, however, and all seven of them chatted amiably over breakfast, which consisted of slices of fried bread, fried eggs and bilgriss, a kind of very spicy Calmanian sausage. Diana, being vegetarian whenever possible, politely declined her bilgriss and had a double helping of eggs instead, but the others found them very tasty indeed, even when they found out what was in them. They all polished their plates clean, and shortly afterwards a young, smartly dressed man arrived to tell them that the caravan would be leaving in half an hour.

     The caravan turned out to consist of around thirty large wagons. Most of them were drawn by four large oxen with shaggy hair and long horns, but two wagons at the back were hitched to pairs of slenn, reptilian creatures the size and general shape of rhinos. Fifteen of the wagons were owned by one merchant, the richest in the area, and were full of dull, off white alba wood, this being one of Calmany's main exports to Ilandia. The other wagons were owned by a number of other less wealthy merchants which were travelling together for protection, and contained a wide variety of products from salted meat to ironwood to silks and spices all the way from distant Astaro. One hundred mercenary troops were also with the caravan, hired jointly by the merchants for protection, as well as a couple of dozen travellers going either part or all the way to Ilandia. Those who could be of use in the caravan's defence, such as swordsmen or wizards, or who had healing skills, such as clerics and priests, travelled free, but all the others had to pay for the privilege. The merchants never lost an opportunity to make a bit of money.

     Drake and the others climbed aboard a wagon carrying wool, that being the comfiest, and a few minutes later the caravan pulled out and started on the long journey to Ilandia. They took one last glance behind them at the city they were leaving, and then fixed their gazes on the distant horizon ahead of them.