Tak knew he'd have to face Philip sooner or later, so he decided to get it over with while he was feeling good about himself. Trobo told him that the young wizard was currently in the gymnasium, one of the few places in the castle where Tak was allowed to go but never had. He was worked so hard by Molos Gomm and the elder apprentice that he was already as fit and healthy as he'd ever been. His muscles weren't large, but they were as hard as walnuts under his pale skin and there wasn't an ounce of spare fat anywhere on him.

     Philip had been the same when Tak had first arrived, but now that the youngest member of the household had taken over most of the hard work he'd begun putting on weight, his muscles getting a little flabby. Once he'd gotten a woman in the castle, though, he'd grown conscious of the decline and was determined to put it right. He wanted Lyssa to be pleased and excited by his body, as irrational as that was for a rapist to want from his victim.

     The gymnasium had originally been a practice floor for the castle's defenders, where weapons masters taught their deadly skills to younger soldiers, and it had doubled as a food storage chamber whenever it seemed likely that the castle might soon be coming under siege. When fully stocked it had held enough food to last all the castle's defenders, plus the entire populations of several nearby towns, for over a year, but now all that remained were a few mouldy crates stacked against the far wall that none of the wizards who'd lived here over the centuries had ever bothered to clear out.

     He paused in the doorway, fascinated despite himself by the cast iron equipment some previous occupant had had installed and that Philip had polished up and restored to a workable condition. To Tak, it was all as bizarre and incomprehensible as a computer would have been, and he had as little idea as Philip how brittle and dangerous it was. Humanity had not yet made first contact with the trog race, who alone knew how to make steel. They were still waiting under the mountains of the continent of Amafryka, far across the ocean that no human had yet crossed.

     Philip was lying on his back, on a fur rug, and pumping a dumbbell, each lobe of which was the size of a grapefruit. He puffed with the effort as he straightened his arms, sweat glistening on his skin, and gasped with relief as he let it drop once more to his chest. Tak watched in fascination as the elder apprentice repeated the procedure a few more times, then heaved the dumbbell away to clatter on the bare stone floor. He lay there for a few more moments to catch his breath, then climbed wearily to his feet.

     He reached for his robe, used it as a towel to wipe the sweat away, then froze in surprise when he saw Tak for the first time. "Tak!" he gasped, and a grin spread across his deceptively handsome face. "Thought you'd left us. Somehow found a way to slip your chains. Proved too strong for you after all, did they?"

     "I wasn't trying to escape," replied Tak, the fear returning now that the confrontation had actually begun. He forced himself to remain outwardly calm and confident, although his heart was pounding hard. "I went into town. Thought I'd look in on Lyssa's father. See if there was anything I could do."

     Philip stared, then his face grew red with anger. "Lyssa and her father are not your concern. Stay away from Jack Nowl. You can't help him."

     Tak felt an almost malicious glee welling up inside him. "But I was able to help him. It turned out to be simple food poisoning. They fetched the cleric from the next town and he was cured in no time. Isn't that good news?" Philip could only stare at him, completely speechless. "I've told Lyssa," added Tak, "and she's gone home with him. You should have seen the reunion. It was so touching..."

     "You dared..." began Philip, his eyes spitting hatred. "You dared meddle in my affairs..."

     "Look, Philip," said Tak, more seriously. "You've no idea how close to disaster you brought us. I know what you did, and Jack Nowl knows as well. Before this day is out it'll be all round the village. Do you know how close we are to being lynched by a mob? I tried to calm them down, don't know how much I..."

     Philip, however, was spitting the words to bring the hypnosis spells to full power and a moment later Tak felt himself falling into a deep trance, his eyes staring straight ahead, his arms by his sides. Furious hands flew around his neck and Philip began strangling him. Tak could make no move to defend himself. He could only stand there as he felt the older apprentice's thumbs digging deep into his throat.

     He can't kill me, thought Tak in near terror. Molos Gomm will know it was him. He'll be furious. Whatever he does to me, he can't kill me.

     Sure enough, Philip snarled into his face with frustration and pushed the younger apprentice away, Tak breathed a sigh of relief, but then Philip's grimace of rage turned into a sly grin. He stepped back to where he'd dropped his robe, picked it up and threw it at Tak. It landed on his head and hung there, obscuring his vision and nearly suffocating him with the reek of sweat.

     "Get out of those clothes and into that," he ordered. They were roughly the same size despite their difference in age.

     Tak obeyed silently. He knew the older apprentice had something bad in mind for him, really bad, but he was helpless to avoid his fate. He only hoped he'd have the strength to endure it until Molos Gomm returned. His master was beginning to look almost angelic in comparison with his apprentice.

     When he stood in Philip's robe, the clothes given to him discarded on the floor, he stood apprehensively, waiting to hear what form his suffering would take.

     Philip looked him over, savouring the moment. "My dear young friend," he said, stroking Tak's cheek with the back of his finger. "You've done a very bad thing. You've meddled in my affairs and now you must pay the price." He paused for a few seconds in delicious anticipation. "I want you to climb the north observation tower and throw yourself from the top."

     In his head Tak cried out in horror and despair. The older apprentice meant to see him dead, and in a way that would look as if he'd fallen accidentally! Molos Gomm knew he liked to take in the view from the towers, he wouldn't question Philip's account. He tried to beg, to plead for forgiveness, but his traitorous body refused to obey him and strode out of the room to the stairs at the end of the passage. Philip followed. He didn't want to miss this.

     Reaching ground level, he left the main keep and set off along one of the curtain walls until he reached the north tower, almost a fortress in itself. Its lowermost levels were divided into individual rooms, although they'd been empty for centuries, and the stairwell wound its way up through the centre. The observation platform itself was twenty feet across with a crenellated wall, at the base of which weeds were growing in the soil that had gathered there.

     Tak was in no fit state to appreciate any of this, though. He was in a state of near panic as he trudged his way up the stairs. He had to stop! He had to free himself! He didn't want to die! His legs continued to climb step after step, though, ignoring his screams of mental anguish. There was nothing he could do.

     Or was there? He remembered Molos Gomm's departure with Gal-Gowan, how Philip had spoken the words to bring the hypnosis spells down to half power so he could see his reaction as he tormented him. He'd made a special effort to remember those words and he still remembered them. What if he spoke them himself? But his mouth was also refusing to obey him. He couldn't utter so much as a single word.

     What if he spoke the words in his mind? It wouldn't work, of course, but what did he have to lose? He was ready to try anything. He recited the words in his mind, therefore, and when it didn't work he tried again and again. He was nearing the top now, and close to despair as the circle of light above him grew wider and closer. It was a fine blue sky. A perfect day to die in.

     No! he told himself. I'm not going to die today! I'm not! The words would work if they were spoken by someone else. He concentrated on imagining that there was someone climbing behind him, therefore, and that they were speaking the words to free him.

     By a supreme mental effort he made himself believe it and suddenly he was free. He collapsed to the damp, stone steps in relief, almost sobbing his thanks to the Gods for his deliverance. It wasn't until he was much older that he realised that the force of his will had been what had really broken the spell. His knowledge of the words had merely been a crutch to enable him to do it.

     Tak was still kneeling on the steps, sobbing grateful words of thanks to the Gods, when he heard cautious footfalls ascending behind him. "Tak? What's keeping you? Where are you?"

     Tak gave a start of fear and fled the rest of the way up the stairs to the platform, then cursed himself for a fool when he realised he'd trapped himself. There was nowhere else to go. The observation platform was surrounded by a low wall, just high enough to stop careless soldiers from falling over, but apart from that the platform was a bare, open space twenty feet across, the stones and catapults that had once formed a vital part of the castle's defences having long since vanished. Philip would see him the moment he topped the stairs, put him under hypnosis again...

     But he'd just escaped from his hypnotic control, and if he'd done it once he could do it again. The question was, could he do it quickly enough? He found out a moment later when the older apprentice emerged from the stairwell wearing a new robe, fresh from the laundry. There was an icy cold wind blowing, flapping the white fabric against their bare legs, but neither of the young wizards felt it as they faced each other like a pair of gunfighters from an old western.

     Philip snarled like a beast when he saw that his adversary had freed himself from his mind control and spat the words to bring the hypnosis spells back to full power. Tak had been expecting it, though, and used the same trick he'd used before to defeat it. Philip gaped in stunned surprise, and Tak knew he had to use his chance while he had it.

     He flew at the elder apprentice, fists flying, remembering to aim for soft flesh, not hard bone, as his father had taught him. First the solar plexus, bending him over in a whoosh of expelled air. Then the kidneys. Then pulling his head back by the hair to bare his long throat for a jab with his other fist, one knuckle extended half an inch. Every dirty trick his father had ever taught him, used as fast as he could remember them as all rational thought disappeared beneath a raging torrent of berserk animal rage. All the fear and hatred and self loathing of the past two years was released all at once in an orgy of blind, thoughtless violence of which he later remembered nothing at all.

     Philip was too surprised to react at first, and by the time he realised what was going on he was too dazed and winded to put up much of a defence against his smaller opponent, whom he could have pounded into the dust in a fair fight. He'd lost the initiative, though, and Tak gave him no chance to regain it. All Philip could do was crawl back to the stairwell, pull himself back to his feet and scramble down the stairs, all dignity lost in his haste to get away from the insane boy who stood and yelled insults down at him from the top. A moment later, watching him go, Tak sagged wearily to the stone floor.

     He was amazed with himself. He'd never paid much attention to his father's defence lessons despite all the warnings about shologs, brigands and highwaymen, and yet he'd managed to give a real pasting to a young man several years older and considerably stronger than himself. Not without cost to himself, though. His hands were a mess. His spellcasting hands! He flexed his fingers experimentally. Sore and painful, skin torn and nails broken, but nothing that wouldn't heal. He breathed a sigh of relief. Then he eased himself back to his feet and tottered wearily down the stairs.

     Trobo was waiting for him at the bottom, regarding him impassively. "Young master Philip just passed by in some disarray. A difference of opinion?"

     "Just redefining our relationship," muttered Tak, watching the houseman carefully for any sign of disapproval. Did he ever disapprove of anything? Or show any sign of emotion whatsoever?

     Trobo just nodded, though, before turning and walking back to the keep, crossing the weed-choked ground as though it were a carpeted reception hall. Shaking his head in amazement and light headed from his victory over Philip, Tak followed him.