"Tak had a couple of years grace after Molos Gomm's death," Thomas said when they were back in their own dwelling tree.

     He glanced out through the window. It was late at night and he would really rather have been in bed, but Lirenna was still wide awake and too hooked on the story to wait until the next day. Thomas sighed. Oh well, tomorrow looked like being a quiet day. It wouldn't matter if he was tired.

     "Perhaps Khalkedon knew he'd need time to settle himself into his new life and new responsibilities," he continued, "or perhaps he just didn't have any need for him in that time. Whatever the reason, Tak was left in peace to learn and study. He would have liked to spend all his time working on his animal experiments, and he did indeed spend a great deal of time in the laboratories under the south tower, but he had enough good sense to know that he'd need to be proficient in war spells as well. It would only be a matter of time before he was summoned to fight beside his master, after all, and he didn't want to be killed by the greenest apprentice who'd spent all his time learning how to kill.

     "Poring through Molos Gomm's spellbooks, therefore, he succeeded in adding several of them to his own repertoire, and although most of them were pretty mild and unexceptional he managed to master a couple of really powerful incantations. One of them was Fireball, a spell that's changed little in the thousands of years since then. When the day finally came, therefore, he was alarmed but not dismayed. He believed himself to be well prepared for whatever the rak King threw him into..."

☆☆☆

     Tak was in the library when the message came.

     He had an open book in his lap, the autobiography of a local warlord who'd dominated the area three hundred years before. Tak was lost in the fascinating story of his life and exploits, to the extent that the Farspoken message that suddenly burst into his head made him jump in alarm, dropping the leatherbound tome into the carpeted floor.

     "Tak Eweela," the voice commanded. "Tak Eweela. Do you hear me?"

     "Y-yes," stammered Tak, trembling all over. "I'm here. Gal-Gowan? Is that you?"

     "Of course it is," snapped the red wizard angrily. "Do you think our master would lower himself to contacting you himself? We are at war and your participation is required. I'll be arriving to collect you the day after tomorrow. Be ready for me."

     The link was broken and Tak could only sit there in apprehensive astonishment, hardly able to believe that it was finally happening. War. He was going to have to fight. He was going to have to kill people. Could he do that? He'd better be able to, he thought, because if he refused he had no doubt that Khalkedon would kill him. A wizard who wouldn't fight was no use to him.

     He placed the book carefully on a nearby table and hurried off to find Trobo, finding him serenely polishing silver in the main dining hall. The houseman had recently returned to the castle following a two week trip to a town a hundred miles away to find a new cook and caretaker to replace the previous couple who'd retired to live with their daughter the year before. It was the longest he’d ever been away from the castle, the great distance being necessary to find people who’d never heard of Castle Nagra and who, therefore, wouldn’t be put off by its evil reputation.

     The new retainers had been terrified to learn that they would be working for a wizard, and it had taken a lot of smooth talking, and a lot of gold, to persuade them to stay. Now that they were here, though, Tak had hopes of making friends with them. Something he’d never managed to do with the previous cook and caretaker.

     "Trobo," he said as the houseman looked up, pausing in his work. "Gal-Gowan will be arriving the day after tomorrow. Please have the guest bedroom prepared and, er, do whatever else you do whenever he comes."

     "Very good, sir," the houseman replied. "Will you be leaving us for a while?"

     "I fear so," replied the wizard, sighing. "Duty calls. I'll be leaving the castle in your capable hands."

     "Very good, sir. If I might be so bold, sir, it is customary, when a wizard visits the abode of another, for the host to provide 'hospitality' for his guest."

     "I know all about hospitality," replied Tak bitterly. "Gal-Gowan will just have to go without this time. I'm not dragging some poor child all the way up here just to serve his perverted pleasures."

     "As you say, Sir," replied Trobo, who clearly couldn't have cared less one way or the other. How his betters conducted themselves was no business of his. He dabbed his cleaning rag in the jar of polish and returned to the silver.

     Tak hesitated, however, feeling the need to speak his thoughts out loud. "Why is he coming?" he wondered. "He could have just ordered me to go to him. Why put himself to the inconvenience of such a long journey?"

     "I really couldn't say, sir."

     "He wants to see what I'm getting up to out here" said Tak, answering his own question. "He's coming to look me over. Trobo, does he know about the lab in the basement? Under the south tower?"

     "I really couldn't say, sir."

     Tak sighed with exasperation. "Has he ever been in there, do you know?"

     The houseman looked up at him with his expressionless grey eyes. "Not to the best of my knowledge, sir, but I was not privy to all of my former master's activities.

     Tak nodded to himself. "I occasionally get the feeling of being watched, which might mean someone's looking at me in a crystal ball, but I've never had that feeling in the basement lab. That may not mean anything, of course, but just in case he doesn't know about it, let's not mention it, okay? If he mentions it himself, that's different, of course. It would be much too dangerous to lie to him, but let's not volunteer the information. Okay?"

     "As you say, sir."

     Tak drifted out of the room. Talking to Trobo, or rather, getting the houseman to talk to him, was an exhausting business. The man had half a dozen stock phrases that covered ninety percent of all occasions and it was a real triumph to get him to say something new, something different. As for expressing an opinion, that was something Trobo had never done. Tak wasn't even sure he had opinions. No, he had to! Everyone had opinions! Even Trobo! He was just reticent about expressing them, that was all.

     Tak shook his head as he wandered towards the kitchens. Horad and Hilda, the new caretaker and his wife, would talk to him, apprehensive of him though they were, and the news of Gal-Gowan's coming gave him the perfect excuse for visiting them. He was determined to win them over into friendship. He had to have someone else to talk to in the huge, almost empty castle or he’d go mad!

☆☆☆

     Gal-Gowan arrived on the evening of the second day later, as promised, accompanied as always by his escort of six armed horsemen. Trobo looked after the horsemen, as he always did, and the red wizard dismounted to look over the castle's new master, who stood proud and erect, trying to give an impression of confidence and security. I am the host, you are the guest, his bearing tried to say, something he wouldn't have dared to say out loud. I am in charge here and don't you forget it.

     Gal-Gowan sneered at him, though, as if he could read his thoughts, and brushed past him to sweep imperiously through the door. Tak hurried after him, cursing under his breath.

     The red wizard made straight for the main reception room, where he helped himself to the strong liqueurs stored in a wall cabinet, scowling disapprovingly at the younger wizard as he emptied the dribble in the bottom of one of the bottles into his glass. Tak didn't drink himself and had never gotten around to restocking his supply.

     Gal-Gowan lowered himself into the room's best chair and sipped at his drink, while Tak seethed helplessly. It was being made very clear to him that he was only the tenant of Castle Nagra, and that Khalkedon was doing him a great favour by allowing him to stay there, rent free. It occurred to him suddenly that the man sitting insolently across the room could order him to move out at any time. He could be put out on the road with only the clothes he stood up in, and if that happened he knew there was absolutely nothing he'd be able to do about it. He was being punished for his haughty reception of the red wizard, and the sneering smile on the older wizard's face said that he knew he'd hit his mark.

     Tak cursed and screamed inwardly. This was worse than being forced to serve 'hospitality'! He was bright enough to know when he was out of his depth, though, so he swallowed his pride, as Molos Gomm had before him, and accepted the role of servant.

     "I hope the Fiva is to your liking," he said docilely. "Please forgive me for failing to keep a better stock but I've been so busy since Molos Gomm's death..." He faltered, unable to go on, hating himself for his weakness.

     Gal-Gowan swirled the drink in his glass, staring deep into its rich, crimson heart. "Think nothing of it," he smiled cruelly. "I understand completely. It must have been hard for you, to be plunged into full wizardship so early."

     "It wasn't easy," admitted the younger wizard. "The moment the townsmen heard of his death they stormed the castle. It was all I could do to drive them back. You were almost looking for a new ally."

     Ally, he thought, wondering whether the older wizard would catch his meaning. Ally, not thrall. The tiny spark of defiance that still burned within him had driven him to use the word against his better judgement, knowing it would probably lead to more punishment. He hoped the older wizard had read the rest of his words right, though. It had been all he could do to drive away a handful of illiterate peasants. How much use would he be in a war? Better to let him sit this one out, so he'd be available for the next war, by which time he'd be much better prepared. If he was killed now because of his youth and inexperience, he would never be the powerful asset Khalkedon might need one day.

     The frown of disapproval on Gal-Gowan's face told him that the elder wizard had, in fact, read both messages. "You'll be able to handle the townsmen better when you've got a bit of military experience under your belt. I think I can promise you an... educational experience."

     He smiled then, a smile full of malice and gleeful humour, and Tak began to feel sick. Gal-Gowan was going to punish him by throwing him into the very thick of the fighting. In at the deep end, sink or swim. He opened his mouth to protest, but thought better of it at the last moment. He'd only be making it worse for himself. Accept it, he told himself angrily. I belong to him, body and soul. For now, at least. The time might come when I can break free, but not yet. For now, all I can do is act the obedient slave and hope he doesn't kill me in a fit of pique. Don't make him angry. Make him happy. Do whatever it takes to make him happy. Even... even that, if necessary.

     He was spared from having to make that sacrifice, though, as the elder wizard asked if he might be taken on a quick tour of the castle. Asked very politely, but Tak didn't need the brains of a wizard to recognise the command of a master to his slave. "Of course," he said, therefore, rising from his seat as Gal-Gowan stood. "Where would you like to see first?"

     It was the laboratories he was interested in, of course, and Tak led him to the divinatory and the alteratory, where the red wizard carefully examined every item of equipment and leafed through his spellbooks as though they were his own. Tak could only watch, grinding his teeth in helpless frustration, but he thought he saw a brief look of surprise, carefully hidden, as the older wizard came to the pages on which his newest spells were written. Was he surprised by the progress he'd made since his last visit? Was he impressed?

     It was only in later years that he learned how phenomenally fast his progress was compared to most wizards. At the time he'd just assumed he was normal, average. A little under average, in fact, judging from the endless criticisms and abuse he'd received from Molos Gomm. The older Tak, though, remembering the incident, thought there had been a forced quality to the condescending sneer on the older wizard's face.

     "Can you cast all these spells?" he demanded.

     "Yes, of course," replied Tak, who then shrank under the red wizard's withering glance. You never used the words 'of course' to a man like him. "I mean, yes, I can cast them."

     "Demonstrate, please," said Gal-Gowan, holding the book up for the younger man to see. "This one here, if you please."

     The spell he'd chosen was Felban's Finger of Fire, a spell that Gal-Gowan, Tak later learned, hadn't mastered until he was in his early thirties. The older wizard's eyes narrowed as Tak stared at the spell and called the words to the forefront of his mind. Then Tak crossed to the window and opened the shutters.

     Outside was the west bailey, two storeys below. It was choked with weeds and scrubby plants and sloped down to a cliff edge that fell two hundred feet to the rushing stream in the valley floor. Tak had never looked out at this view before, and despite his situation he found himself gasping with awe at the majesty of the mountains. The grandeur of the valley that he'd only before seen from the north, where it was largely hidden by the castle's sweeping outer wall. What a wonderful place to live! he found himself thinking. To be able to look out over such scenery any time he wanted...

     "Tak!" snapped Gal-Gowan impatiently.

     The younger wizard snapped out of his reverie with a shock. The spell, yes. He reached out with one hand, the index finger pointing, spoke the magic words and a line of fire lanced out towards one of the larger shrubs, spearing it and tearing it apart in a ball of orange flame. Tak moved his finger to the right and the line of fire moved with it like the jet of water from a hose, touching another untidy, vine-choked bush and destroying it in turn. Then he selected the smaller plants one after another until the entire area was ablaze, torched as effectively as if by a dragon.

     Tak stared at his handiwork in amazement. He'd cast the spell before, of course, while perfecting his control and the correct pronunciation of the magic words, but he'd always aimed at a bare wall of rock or up into the open air, scared of doing damage to the castle. He'd had no idea just how devastating a weapon it made. Suppose it hadn't been trees and bushes he'd been aiming at. Suppose it had been men. Human beings with wives and families. The thought made him feel sick inside.

     "Hmmph," grunted Gal-Gowan gruffly. "I suppose that's adequate enough."

     Again, though, there was a look on his face that Tak wasn't able to properly identify until several years later. It was a rigid impression, designed to conceal his true feelings, and at the time Tak thought it was disappointment and disapproval. It wasn't until many years later that he realised it was fear.

     The rest of the tour was rushed and cursory, with neither of them really concentrating. Tak was simply glad and relieved that Gal-Gowan never asked to see the necromantory, and the older wizard gave no indication that he even knew about the third laboratory. The tour ended with the red wizard retiring to his room, and Tak gave a great sigh of relief as the door closed between them. He told Trobo to wake them both at first light, with Gal-Gowan receiving his breakfast first, of course, and then he made his weary, nervous way to his own bed.