"Molos Gomm had never beaten Tak before," said Thomas thoughtfully, "and he never did again. The exertion of inflicting physical punishment put a heavy strain on his old heart. He had to stop while still full of fury, taking deep breaths, before sending the battered and bruised apprentice limping away. I'm wondering now whether he acfually came close to having a fatal heart attack. I think that if he'd carried on with the beating, he might have dropped dead right there and then."

     "Would have served him right if he had," said Lirenna, watching her husband with concern.

     "Yeah. Molos Gomm himself might have preferred to die that way if he'd known what wad coming."

      "He died badly, then?" Lirenna gave a start and suddenly looked ashamed at herself. "I'm sorry. I keep forgetting that these were real people who really lived. I keep thinking this is just a story you're telling, as if you're just making it up as you go along."

     "It seems real to me. It's like they're my memories, as though these things happened to me. Except for those bits that the older Tak wiped out with Amnesia spells. Like the night after Gal Gowan arrived and Molos Gomm gave Tak to him as 'hospitality', like he did during his first visit. I'm really glad I don't remember any of that."

     Lirenna reached over and squeezed his hand. He squeezed it back gratefully.

     "What I do remember was that Tak was terrified. He was afraid that Gal Gowan would punish him for his defiant words at the end of his last visit, but his fears turned out to be groundless. It was as though the older wizard didn't even know that he was the same boy.

     "I also remember how Tak felt about it the next day. He remembered that Gal Gowan's use of him that night was casual and impersonal. He was nothing more than a sex object to him, and although Tak was grateful for that, that it was no worse than it had to be, he was also infuriated that he was of so little importance to him. Was Tak such a nothing, such a nobody, that the red wizard had forgotten all about him the moment he'd left the castle?.

     "It was this, rather than the defilement of his body, that hurt him the most. He coped with it by reassuring himself that it wouldn't go on for ever. One day he would be as powerful as he was. A wizard in his own right, or one day he would be dead. Either way, he told himself, the day will come when no-one will ever be able to use him like that again...

☆☆☆

     The next day Tak saw almost nothing of Gal-Gowan, the two wizards spending most of their time in the south tower. That night, though, after the visiting wizard had used him again for his pleasure, he spoke to him for the first time, casting a light spell so he could see the boy's face. It was the only memory Thomas Gown had of the two of them in bed together. A memory the adult Tak had deliberately not erased because he wanted to remember the conversation that had followed.

     "Gomm says you're ready to assist in a conjuration," Gal Gowan had said. "Is that true?"

     Tak was too startled to reply at first, and then too frightened. He could only nod dumbly as the wizard's eyes burned searchingly into his own. Just when he thought he'd become numbed to the horror of it all, being spoken to made him acutely aware of his and Gal-Gowan's nakedness, and of the fact that their bodies were touching in several places. The wizard was actually caressing his flank and the smooth roundness of his buttocks as he searched his face for any trace of a lie, and the continuing effort of keeping his body relaxed, of resisting the impulse to tense up and thereby incur his displeasure, made it difficult for Tak to concentrate on anything else. He couldn't have concocted a plausible lie at that moment if his life had depended on it.

     "You're very young for such a dangerous and important task," said Gal-Gowan doubtfully. "My life, all our lives, will depend on no-one making the slightest mistake. I like my life, and the thought that it might come to a premature end because Gomm's little boycheeks sneezes at the wrong moment does not make me happy." His hand landed on Tak's arm and squeezed hard. "It doesn't make me happy at all."

     "I-if you don't think I'm ready," stammered Tak, "then tell him you don't want me to participate. He said you could do it without me."

     Tak wanted to squirm away and hide, but some inner voice warned him that it was vitally important that he maintain eye contact, that he make a show of confidence as if conjuring demons was something he did every day. It wasn't until later that day that he realised why. The truth that the lower, more basic levels of his mind had reached somewhat earlier. This conjuration was his ticket to the next level of magical expertise, a level from which Molos Gomm would probably otherwise exclude him, fearing his growing strength and power. If he played his part in the conjuration, though, Gal-Gowan might order Molos Gomm to teach him the high magic, where the real power lay, so that he could be of more use in the future. He had to learn the high magic! Without it, he might never get his revenge on his hateful master.

     Gal-Gowan searched his face for several minutes, then grunted in satisfaction. "If he says you're ready, you probably are. His life'll be at risk as well as mine, after all. Very well, you shall take part, but I warn you. If you make a mistake and we both survive it, I will send you to The Pit, living and incarnate. Just as you are now. How much has old Gomm told you about the hell dimensions?"

     "Enough," said Tak, his eyes widening with fear. The matter of fact way in which he'd made the threat left the young man in no doubt that he really meant it. "I won't make any mistake."

     "I'm glad to hear it," said Gal-Gowan, who then, without another word, cancelled the light spell, turned over and went to sleep.

☆☆☆

     When morning came, Gal-Gowan told Tak to stay with him while they washed and breakfasted. Then he took him with him to the south tower. When Philip arrived a few minutes later the two older wizards began instructing the youngsters on the parts they were to play in the forthcoming operation.

     It would indeed be a conjuration, as Molos Gomm had already deduced. The summoning of a powerful extradimensional spirit, the kind of creature popularly known as a demon, for the purpose of forcing it to give them information badly needed by Molos Gomm's master.

     Most of the work would be done by Gal-Gowan and Molos Gomm. Tak and Philip's part would merely be to fetch and carry various items of equipment, to help strengthen the confinement spells by reciting certain ancient formulae and, possibly, to cast one spell if the course of events made it necessary. Neither he nor Philip had any idea what this spell did. When they'd learned it and practised casting it, nothing had seemed to happen, but Molos Gomm had seemed satisfied and had actually congratulated them, although probably only for Gal-Gowan's benefit. To impress upon him the quality of his apprentices.

     They spent many days rehearsing their roles until they could do it backwards in their sleep, and both Tak and Philip had to endure trial by Puck again to prove they could perform the rituals using only permitted words and gestures. Without accidentally performing any other actions, such as twitching or sneezing, that would collapse the cage spells.

     Tak was more confident this time, even though the spirit conjured by Molos Gomm was even more horrifying than the last one, and he sailed through the test. The sight of Gal-Gowan nodding to himself in satisfaction as Molos Gomm sent the spirit back to where it had come from sent a thrill of pride and delight through him. A welcome boost to his stunted and half starved sense of worth, even though another part of him angrily insisted that he didn't need their approval.

     Finally the preparations were complete and Gal-Gowan stated that the conjuration would take place the next day. They spent the day purifying and cleansing the conjuration room. Tak and Philip scrubbed the floor with holy water and soap made from the fat of a unicorn while the older wizards cast spells to remove every trace of randomised magic from the ancient stone; remnants of previous conjurations that might interfere with the next day's activities. Molos Gomm and Gal-Gowan then began drawing complicated sigils and words in an ancient language on the floor using chalk that had been blessed by a priest of Lithos, God of Rocks and Stoneworkers.

     While Tak and Philip spent the evening in the castle's disused chapel, praying for success and assistance from any God willing to offer it, the older wizards pored tirelessly over their work, scrutinising every word and symbol for the slightest imperfection and occasionally erasing one and drawing it again. By the time they were finally satisfied with their work they were so tired and crosseyed that all they wanted to do was sleep and Tak's body spent a night free from their unwelcome attentions for the first time since Molos Gomm's return from his last war duty.

     The next morning was spent preparing their bodies as assiduously as they'd prepared the conjuration room. There was no breakfast for anyone. They all had to have empty stomachs for their confrontation, although no-one explained to Tak why. Instead they bathed in water in which some mildly poisonous herbs had been boiled. Tomorrow they'd all be scratching at ugly red rashes, but that didn't matter now.

     Tak scrubbed at his potion stained hands with a pumice stone, anxious to get rid of every trace of dirt and grime even if he had to remove the entire top layer of skin to do it. The closer they could get to perfection, in their bodies, their words, their actions and their surroundings, the greater their chance of success. Even if they got everything absolutely right, though, there was still the chance the demon would succeed in snatching them all back to The Pit with it, and what would happen to them there Tak didn't dare to contemplate. No effort was too great if it increased their chances by even the smallest amount, and so he scrubbed at his red raw fingers with renewed vigour.

     Out of the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of Philip leering at him with a sly look that made him start with alarm, but when he turned his head to look at him directly the older apprentice was concentrating fully on his own hands, apparently paying him no attention. He had seen that look, though. He hadn't been mistaken. Tak paled with fear. He couldn't be thinking of trying something during the conjuration! The slightest thing would kill them all, not just Tak. Maybe he was going to try something before the ceremony started, or after it finished. He'd have to be on the lookout all through the procedure, though. Just in case. He sighed in carefully suppressed anger. He didn't need this. Not when he needed all his concentration on not making any mistakes.

     Molos Gomm rose from his bath and let Trobo towel him dry. Then he made Tak and Philip stand while he checked them over. He grunted with grudging satisfaction. "We're as ready as we'll ever be," he said. "Let's get it over with."

     The younger wizards toweled themselves dry while Trobo fetched four brand new white robes, woven less than a week ago and never worn. Still damp from the infusion of nightshade in which they'd been soaking. "Careful not to crease them," warned Gal-Gowan as they put them on. "Now comb your hair and begin the formulae."

     Tak and Philip began reciting the ancient words they'd memorised. Molos Gomm listened for a while to make sure they had them right, then picked up his equipment, which had been laid out on a table by the door. A silver sword whose narrow blade bore strange runes and sigils glowing with an electric blue light. A necklace of polished animal bones that he hung around his neck. A heavy book bound with human skin. He opened the book at a page marked with a scarlet ribbon and read from it as he strode slowly from the room, the others falling in behind him like some kind of weird religious ceremony which, in a way, it was.

     They each continued their own particular recitation as they climbed the spiral staircase, taking it slow and steady. None of them particularly eager to arrive at the top. Tak was last in line, with Philip ahead of him, and about halfway up the older apprentice turned to look back at him, this time with an undisguised expression of delight and glee in his bright green eyes. Tak was now so scared that he almost faltered in his formula. He is going to try something! During the conjuration! He's mad! He'll kill us all!

     Reaching the conjuration room, they took their places around the room and Molos Gomm placed the heavy book on a large wooden lectern. He turned the thick, stiff pages and continued reading, pausing only to point the sword at each of the charcoal braziers in turn, one on either side of him. The glowing runes on the blade flared and the braziers burst into flame, emitting a thick yellow smoke that had soon formed a dense, roiling cloud above them, completely obscuring the ceiling.

     Tak felt himself trembling with nervous excitement. He was terrified, but at the same time he felt privileged as few men before him had been. Just a few miles away was a whole town full of people who had no idea what was going on here, who would have been terrified and horrified if they had, and he was a part of it. He was about to experience something that most people wouldn't even have been able to imagine. Farming, trading, house and family. Weather and the passage of the seasons. That was all of life for most people. Their peasant minds never lifted from the grind of their daily lives to contemplate the mysteries of existence. The immensities and multitudes of other planes surrounding them.

     Tak suddenly felt nothing but contempt for them. He was special. He was a member of a select cadre bound together by knowledge beyond that of common humanity. He was trusted to participate. He, Tak Eweela, even though the slightest mistake could doom them all.

     Then he saw Molos Gomm frowning at him and knew that the elder wizard had guessed his thoughts. He was in for a miserable time tomorrow to put him back in his place, but tomorrow seemed a million years away. There was only today, and today he was special. A trusted colleague. Despite everything his master could do or would do, in that moment he gained a lasting appreciation of his own worth that nothing would ever take from him.

     Molos Gomm glanced at each of them in turn to make sure they were ready and took a deep breath to steady his nerves. Then he began the incantation. He stepped forward, chanting the tonguetwisting syllables of the cage spell, and scratched a circle in the stone floor with the tip of the silver sword all around the central part of the room, an area about ten yards across. The circle passed through the symbols he and Gal-Gowan had laboriously drawn the day before, and as the tip of the sword scratched its way through them they evaporated, the upward rising motes of sparkling dust forming a shimmering curtain surrounding the spot on which the demon would stand. It was a much stronger version of the cage spell than the one that had protected Tak from the puck. It would have to be to contain the creature they were about to summon, but it was just as fragile. The slightest wrong move by any of them would destroy it.

     Molos Gomm completed the circle and returned to his place, where he began the conjuration in earnest. He chanted some more magic words and then his voice changed, growing deeper and more powerful as if it were coming from the throat of a giant, or a god. Suddenly it was a voice of authority that had to be obeyed.

     "Hear me, ye damned. Hear me, wretched creatures of The Pit. It is I, Molos Gomm of Castle Nagra, who speaks. I call upon Vassago, Lord of the Fields of Stone. I call upon Vassago, Master of the Twining Roots. I command Vassago and he shall obey. I command Vassago to enter my presence and stand before me. I command Vassago to appear in his true form. Vassago, I command and you shall obey. Vassago!"

     The thunderous voice, that surely must have been heard for a dozen miles in every direction and that must have had the inhabitants of Aldervale quaking in terror, died away into an echoing silence in which Tak could hear his heart pounding. He continued chanting his own formula, and a few yards away he could hear Philip and Gal-Gowan reciting theirs, but other than that there was nothing. Had the incantation failed? But then he was aware of something. Something had changed. Something had arrived. He looked into the centre of the room, where the demon was supposed to appear, and his heart almost leapt out of his throat when he saw that the space inside the shimmering cage was no longer empty.

     It wasn't a demon, though, or at least it didn't look like one. It was a child, about ten years old. The most beautiful child Tak had ever seen. Blonde and blue eyed, the kind of boy Molos Gomm liked best. Naked and his eyes dulled by hypnosis spells. His tiny body was bruised by having been hard used and Tak's heart went out to him in heartrending sympathy. What was this? Some kind of offering? A bribe from Vassago to make the wizard leave him alone? Or maybe a kind of distraction.

     The boy was inside the cage, at the demon's mercy. Maybe they were supposed to go rushing to his rescue, abandoning their carefully constructed defences, whereupon Vassago would appear and scoop them up. He remained motionless, continuing the formula, but inside he was crying out in anguish. Someone had to go to the boy's rescue! Someone had to do something!