"Are you able to summon the giant eagles?" Gal-Gowan asked the next day as they stood in the inner courtyard, his escort standing by their horses. Trobo hovered nearby, waiting patiently to wave them goodbye.

     "No," replied Tak, afraid that the older wizard would be angry. "Molos Gomm never showed me how, and I haven't been able to find any mention of it in any of his books and papers." It occurred to him suddenly that the old wizard might have created the giant birds himself in his laboratory. He'd have to look through his notes again when he got back.

     "A pity," said Gal-Gowan, who seemed strangely relieved. "We'll just have to travel the more conventional way, then."

     He indicated the spare horse and Tak mounted, remembering his first trip to Domandropolis with the red wizard. This time, though, Castle Nagra would be left completely empty of wizards until his return, and if the villagers found out they might take the opportunity to burn the place to the ground while he was away.

     He hoped the precautions they were taking would be enough to prevent them from finding out. Gal-Gowan would cast an invisibility spell on him and his horse during their ride through the village. The villagers would see Gal-Gowan and the other horsemen, but they wouldn't see Tak. They would think that the red wizard had only been visiting and that the master of Castle Nagra was remaining behind. Even Tak's cook and caretaker wouldn't know he was away. Horad and Hilda, living all alone in their own rooms on the other side of the castle, would simply think he was engrossed in his work, too busy to continue his attempts to make friends with them. They would continue to cook his meals, which Trobo would quietly dispose of.

     It occurred to him that, if he died, there was no-one in the whole world who would grieve over him. Khalkedon would send someone else to occupy the castle, some apprentice advanced enough to make a go of it for himself, and he would be forgotten as if he'd never lived. The thought made him feel small and lonely and miserable. He wanted his parents. He wanted his father to shake his hand and wish him well. He wanted his mother to cry over him and beg him to be careful. He wanted his sister to crack some stupid joke to cover her fears and concerns for her little brother's safety. He wanted to be loved. He blinked away his tears, determined not to show any sign of emotion in front of Gal-Gowan.

     "Look after the castle while I'm away," he told Trobo. "I'll expect everything to be in good shape when I return."

     "Of course, sir," nodded Trobo, and Tak suddenly found himself hating the houseman. He wouldn't care if he was killed. He would serve the new tenant with all the soulless efficiency with which he'd served Tak. How many masters had he served during his time here? he suddenly wondered. He had the sudden suspicion that it might be more than he'd realised. Maybe a lot more...

     "Let's go then," said Gal-Gowan, and he dug his heels into his horse's flanks. The animal moved off, his escort falling in behind, and Tak looked back at the castle one last time, wondering whether he'd ever see it again. He surprised himself with the realisation that he was looking forward to his return. For good or for bad, this was his home now. This was where he felt he belonged.

☆☆☆

     Domandropolis was buzzing with activity when they arrived. A large army was camped in the fields outside the city and Gal-Gowan weaved his way between the brightly coloured, pennanted tents to a large wagon the size of a house alongside which a dozen oxen grazed lazily, enjoying the chance to rest before being hitched up again.

     "This is my war home," he explained to the mystified and astonished younger wizard. "My mobile command base and field quarters. You will be sharing it with me and my apprentice for the duration of this conflict. I have to enter the city, to confer with Khalkedon. You will spend the night here. I will return and we will leave in the morning." The red wizard then spurred his horse into a gallop and rode for the city gates, accompanied by his escort.

     Tak stared after him for a few moments, feeling lost and bewildered. Then he dismounted, whereupon a young soldier took his horse and led it away. Tak took a deep breath to calm his nerves, then climbed the wooden steps and entered the wagon.

     It was larger than the cabin his family had lived in in the Borderlands, and the young wizard stared in wonder that a vehicle could be this big. It was divided into several rooms, the first of which was sparsely outfitted, having only a table in the centre under which were locked drawers, a rack of rolled up maps and spacious cupboards.

     He opened one of the cupboards and found boxes of miniature figures. Soldiers. Cavalry on horseback. Wizards with arms outstretched to cast spells. One of them bore a striking resemblance to Gal-Gowan and he stared at it in wonder, unable to imagine why the Ginger Prince would possess such a thing. He had no idea how War Marshals planned their battles, of course. He was incapable of imagining a map of the battlefield stretched out on the table, miniature figures representing their army and the enemy being moved from one place to another as the war lords tried one configuration after another, positioning each regiment and individual wizard for maximum effect. This was the war room, where Gal-Gowan's Generals planned the battle, but Tak had no idea of this. To him, the figures were just toys, and he marveled that they should be here, in the red wizard's war home.

     There were three doors leading into other rooms and, placing the figures back in the cupboard, he tried the one on the left. The room beyond was decked out in silks and furs, with silver and gold ornaments on every shelf and alcove. Cushions lay scattered about on the floor, most of them in one corner in front of a low table on which a few empty bowls and wine pitchers stood. There were no chairs or other furniture and Tak supposed, correctly, that the occupants lounged on the cushions, perhaps propped up on elbows as they feasted on the food crowding the table. Luxurious and decadent, but Tak thought you'd get rather uncomfortable after a while. He much preferred a good old fashioned chair. He supposed it was a question of what you were used to.

     There was a connecting door to the room beside it, a bedchamber, divided into two halves by a silken curtain. Tak shuddered when he saw how close he and Gal-Gowan would be sleeping together, but the dividing curtain reassured him somewhat. Only two sleeping areas, though, for three people. Who would be sharing? He and Barl Hobson, he hoped, unless the red wizard had gotten himself a new apprentice since his last visit to the city. He desperately looked forward to seeing Barl again. After the joy and relief of finding a friend, being cut off from him for two years had been a nightmare of frustration for him. Now, though, there were bound to be times when the two of them would be alone together and they would have the chance to talk.

     He had to return to the war room to reach the fourth and last room, but as Tak approached the door he sensed the presence of a magic spell guarding it. Gal-Gowan's mobile laboratory, he realised. A private place for him alone. He stayed well away from that door, therefore, having no doubt that something nasty would happen to anyone else trying to get in. Instead, he returned to the bedchamber, exhausted by his long ride from the castle. He took off his boots and his travelling cloak, lay down on the silken sheets and was soon asleep.

☆☆☆

     He was awoken by the blaring of trumpets and the shouting of orders from nearby outside. Morning sunlight was shining in through the small, shuttered window. He jumped up, eager to see what was going on, pulled on his boots and rushed out to the driver's seat.

     Thousands of soldiers were milling around, busily dismantling the camp and packing up to leave. Horses whinnied somewhere, and he heard the bellowing of some huge creature indignant at being roused from sleep. Officers dashed this way and that, carrying orders and overseeing the preparations for departure, and he saw grief stricken women making tearful goodbyes to their men before hurrying back to the safety of the city, some of them accompanied by children and older relatives.

     Tak stared in fascination. He'd never in his life seen so many people gathered together in one place. So this was an army! It was glorious! Magnificent! The shining of sunlight on weapons and armour. The brilliant colours of regimental banners flying proudly in the slight breeze. The striking uniforms of the officers; rank and battle honours apparently being designated by the pennants flying from back and shoulder masts. No wonder the sons of farmers and homesteaders so often ran away from home to join the army! Who'd want to spend their life grubbing in the hard, dusty ground when they could be a part of this?

     "Awake and alert, I see," said a familiar voice behind him. "Good."

     He looked around to see Gal-Gowan on his horse, accompanied by Barl Hobson and a young boy not yet ten years old. The boy had the smirking, too knowing look of someone introduced to the realities of life years before he was ready for them and Tak's heart sank with horror and pity for the lad. It could only be the red wizard's present bedmate. A boy who, in a sane, civilised world, wouldn't have had his first proper kiss yet.

     Then he remembered the bedroom. Gods! he thought in real horror. He'll be 'making use' of him within a few feet of me and Barl! We'll be able to hear everything! Judging from the pleased expression on Barl's face, though, he didn't seem to find anything particularly wrong with this scenario. Maybe he's hiding his true feelings from Gal-Gowan, he thought hopefully. Or maybe it's me. Maybe this sort of thing really is right and proper, and I'm the only one who thinks otherwise. But, no! My father taught me right and wrong and he would have said that this is wrong! There's nothing I can do to help it, though, and if the poor lad's been desensitised to it from his earliest childhood...

     He shied away in shame from completing the thought. He couldn't admit, even to himself, that he was going to allow it to happen without even speaking up in protest. There was literally nothing he could do. The red wizard was just too powerful, and Khalkedon could destroy him in an instant if he made too much of a nuisance of himself.

     "Are we going?" he asked, just for something to say. It was obvious they were going.

     "We are going," confirmed Gal-Gowan as he dismounted. He took the boy from his place in front of Barl and took him inside. "Within the hour. You have just enough time to find the mess tent and get yourself some breakfast. Barl'll show you where. Don't be late back. I will not be pleased if we have to leave without you. Nor will Khalkedon." He left the threat hanging in the air as he disappeared inside the wagon.

     "This way," said the apprentice, dismounting in turn and leading the way through the milling crowds.

     As soon as they were far enough away to be out of earshot Tak said, "That kid..."

     "Yeah, I know," replied Barl with a heavy sigh. "But there's nothing we can do." He turned to stare at Tak. "Has he, you know. With you?"

     "When I was younger," replied Tak. "You?"

     Barl nodded silently. "And at least half a dozen others that I know of. The prettiest kids. They say that parents of good looking children hide them away when he rides by, in case he steals them away for a few days."

     Tak's hands balled into fists and he forced his mind away from the terrible subject. "It's good to talk to you again," he said Tak. "To know someone else feels the same way I do. I'm sorry I haven't been able to keep in touch..."

     "You were right not to try," replied Barl. "Too dangerous. I brought something with me, though. It's in with my stuff, I'll give it to you later. It'll allow us to talk over distances without anyone else knowing about it. Not even Khalkedon. We'll be able to confer. Make plans."

     "That's great!" cried Tak jubilantly. "What about the others? You said there were others."

     Barl nodded. "We should be meeting some of them over the next few days. I can keep in touch with some of them. I'm hoping to use this war to make a few more contacts."

     "Who are we at war with, exactly?" asked Tak. "And what's the war about?"

     "What's it about?" said Barl with a cynical laugh. "What's it ever about? Power. Control. Influence. Varl the Black's been moving into the Vine Lands and Khalkedon wants to push him out again before he makes himself too much at home there."

     "And this Varl the Black has wizards of his own?"

     "He is a wizard, and a powerful one, but he won't enter battle himself, any more than Khalkedon will, unless he ends up with his back to the wall. He'll be sending his thrall wizards into battle and it's them we'll be up against."

     "What do you know about them?" asked Tak. "We've got to beat them, after all, before we can think about freeing ourselves from Khalkedon."

     Barl nodded. "I'll tell you what I know. The most powerful of Varl's thralls is Dragamac, and he's said to be totally insane..."