A few months later, a group of horsemen arrived at the castle.

     It wasn't the first time Castle Nagra had had visitors since Tak's arrival. Usually, though, they only came in ones or twos. They were invariably soldiers of Domandropolis, the city that controlled this part of the world, including the Borderlands in which Tak had spent his childhood. Usually, Molos Gomm waited in his audience chamber while Trobo showed them in, and they talked about matters of which Tak could learn nothing no matter what carefully chosen questions he asked the grey wizard after their departure, which might be the next morning or a week later.

     He was forbidden to speak to the visitors themselves, so he had nothing to go on but the occasional sighting as they passed each other in the corridors. They always seemed to be high ranking officers, so far as he could tell, and they always seemed a little fearful, no matter how hard they tried to conceal it. Understandable when in the presence of a wizard in those days.

     Only once had any of them appeared to notice him. The visitors that time had been a pair of battle scarred giants with manes of black hair and bushy beards. They had glanced at him from the other end of the west passage as they were returning to their guest rooms and their eyes had met briefly. Tak had scurried away, remembering his master's command that he have no contact with them, but the acoustics of the castle had sent their voices echoing after him. "I see he still likes them blonde. And such pretty eyes."

     "It's not his eyes he'll be most interested in," the other had said, and then they had laughed until the sound was cut off by the closing of a heavy oaken door. The exchange had brought tears of shame to the boy's eyes. Shame he thought he'd put behind him years ago.

     Ever since then he had always hidden away when visitors came, fearful of their scorn and disgust, and only risked a glance when he could be sure of not being seen in return, driven by his insatiable curiosity. He longed to know who these people were and why they were here. He wished he could overhear their conversation with his master, but so great was his fear at being discovered that he never dared to try. When he heard the clatter of many hooves, though, not just one or two riders but many, he couldn't help running up the slippery stone stairs to one of the observation towers and peering out through one of the narrow windows.

      There were seven riders. Seven! There hadn't been so many people in the castle in all the time Tak had been there. Six of them were soldiers, similar in appearance to others who had visited before, and in fact he recognised one of them from a previous visit, but the seventh...

     The seventh was obviously the leader of the group. The soldiers hung back behind him as they dismounted and allowed him to lead the way, striding to the watch gate from which Trobo had emerged to greet them. He wore a striking crimson robe trimmed with silver and sewn with dragons up the sleeves and across his broad back. He wore a pair of the tallest, most ludicrously laced black leather boots Tak had ever seen and jeweled rings sparkled on his fingers. He had fiery red hair that curled around his face in bright ringlets and fell in bouncing coils around his shoulders, and a neatly trimmed beard adorned his outthrust chin.

     He strode like a King, as if he expected the walls and towers of the castle themselves to bow down to him, and indeed Trobo did bow when he was within a few yards of the princely newcomer. The red haired nobleman (if that was what he was, but how could he have been anything else?) looked down his long and elegant nose at the houseman as if he was something he'd almost stepped in, then spoke a few words that the wind whipped away before they could reach Tak's ears. Trobo spoke a few words in reply, still bowing. Then he indicated the door and allowed the nobleman to precede him to it. The six soldiers, meanwhile, led the horses to a corner of the courtyard that had been outfitted as a makeshift stable and began unsaddling them.

     Tak left the window and pounded back down the stairs, eager to contrive a situation in which he could 'accidentally' pass the nobleman in a corridor. His fear was forgotten, swept away by a tidal wave of curiosity. He had to know who the new arrival was! He had to know what had happened to bring him here. He had to know!

     The castle only had one guest room kept in habitable condition, and that was sure to be the first place Trobo would take him, to drop off his luggage and freshen himself up before meeting Molos Gomm. He'd be there before Tak could return to the ground floor, but if he loitered in the morning gallery for long enough, pretending to be on his way to or from his study chamber, he'd be sure to see him coming out. He imagined himself dropping something in the nobleman's path, apologising to him as he stooped to pick it up. Saying something witty that would evoke a response from the gloriously attired newcomer. The beginning of a conversation...

     He was stopped before he could even reach the keep, though. Philip grabbed him by the elbow and dragged him to a halt, then pushed him up against the wall. "I'd make myself scarce if I were you," the older apprentice hissed into his face. "That's Gal-Gowan, apprentice to the great Khalkedon himself. You do not want to fall under his eye. Believe me."

     "Apprentice?" said Tak, his eyes widening. "He's a wizard?"

     "You'd better believe it," nodded Philip, "and he's almost as powerful as Molos himself. Khalkedon is way more powerful. He's the most powerful wizard in this part of the world, and Molos Gomm is just one of the wizards who owes him his allegiance. If the Ginger Prince is here, it must mean Khalkedon wants Molos for something. You stay out of his way, you understand? If you anger Gal-Gowan, we'll all suffer." Then he grinned, a nasty sneer of a smile. "Don't worry, you'll get a chance to meet him soon enough."

     That smile disturbed Tak. "What do you mean?"

     "I mean," said Philip, leaning closer, "that Gal-Gowan is very powerful. More powerful politically than magically, and our master will want to offer him every hospitality. Every hospitality. Understand?"

     He patted Tak's cheek and sauntered away, leaving Tak feeling nervous and confused.

☆☆☆

     He took Philip's advice and made his way to his study, being careful to avoid notice on the way. He remained there all day, forgetting his lunch as he thought over what he'd seen and what Philip had told him, an unread book lying open in his lap. He realised that the name Khalkedon was familiar to him. Someone had mentioned him in his childhood, and the memory was associated with wide eyes and hushed voices. He also vaguely recalled a reference to a lesser being, mockingly called the 'Ginger Prince', although the joke was accompanied by fearful tittering and glances to the side as though the speaker was afraid of being overheard.

     Powerful people, to be feared, their attention to be avoided, but Molos Gomm was going to offer Gal-Gowan 'every hospitality'. He could only speculate on what that meant, but one possibility kept occurring to him and he shuddered at the thought.

     He was still there when the yellow sun set and the magic lamps lit themselves. Ordinarily he would be heading for Molos Gomm's bedchamber about now, to prepare himself for his master's arrival, but today he remained where he was, trying in vain to focus his attention on the book. Trying to take his mind off what lay in store for him.

     He'd more or less gotten used to the demands Molos Gomm and Philip made of him, and in self defence he'd conditioned himself to enjoy it, after a fashion, but this... To be loaned to a stranger like a book or a pot of pepper... To be treated as a bit of property with no wishes or opinion of his own worth having... He squeezed his eyes shut and wiped away tears of shame.

     Molos didn't seem angry when he came looking for him a couple of hours later. "Ah, there you are," he simply said. "You'll be spending the night with our guest. Go to the guest room and wait for him."

     "I know," replied Tak. "Philip already told me." He couldn't keep the bitterness out of his voice. He hated the grey wizard as much now as when he'd first been brought to Castle Nagra.

     Molos Gomm frowned at him, but there was too much weariness in the old man's lined and sagging face for it to be very frightening. Gal-Gowan must have been making heavy demands of him. There was also fear in the grey wizard's face, Tak was surprised to see.

     "I dislike your attitude, apprentice. I thought I might be able to give you a little more freedom, loosen the reins a little, but I see now I was mistaken."

     He spoke a sequence of magic words and Tak tensed in alarm as he felt the hypnosis spells returning to their full power. Then his body relaxed and he gazed into the older man's rheumy, watery eyes.

     "You will obey Gal-Gowan's every command," said Molos Gomm. "You will serve his every wish. You will anticipate his desires and you will say nothing except to answer his questions. Do you understand?"

     "Yes, master," replied Tak expressionlessly.

     "Good. Go then."

     Tak turned and walked in a relaxed and composed manner to the guest room while, within, he sobbed in shame and humiliation and dreamed of the day when he would put his hands around Molos Gomm's throat and strangle the life out of him.

☆☆☆

     By the next morning the hypnosis spells had waned back to half power, the level that Molos Gomm considered adequate now that Tak had more or less accepted his lot. He was capable of independent thought and action. He could go where he wanted and do what he wanted, but he was still bound to obey any command he was given. When he awoke to feel bare skin against his own, therefore, he could have jumped out of bed and fled if he'd wanted to, and it was only his good sense, rather than a blanketing hypnotic trance, that held him where he was. He did, however, pull himself a little way away from the sleeping wizard, ending the hateful skin contact so that he could fool himself into thinking that he was alone in the bed. That he was in the privacy of his own room and that there was no-one in the world who could force their attentions on him against his will.

     Gal-Gowan's body was hard and muscular. As fit and strong as regular exercise and gymnastic training could make it. Strong enough that he could have bent Tak to his will without any magical assistance. Being used by him had made Tak feel more totally helpless and possessed than either Molos Gomm or Philip ever had. He now understood something of the man's power. The way he could dominate those around him with the force of his personality. A casual confidence that he would be obeyed. A total assurance of supremacy that only a hero or a fool would challenge.

     He had taken Tak casually and unthinkingly, as though he were a coat that had been loaned to him, without any consideration for the fact that this was a living person he was using. A boy with loves and dreams of his own. He hadn't even spoken to him, but had moved Tak's body and limbs as he wanted them with his own brawny hands. Tak remembered with despair how eager he'd been to learn more about their aristocratic visitor and stifled a choking laugh. He'd met him and he'd learned something of him and now he wished he'd stayed in the tower, barricaded and hidden until their guest had gone.

     Gal-Gowan stirred in his sleep and his arm reached out, searching for him. Tak forced himself to lie still as it landed on his arm, and then powerful muscles bunched as he was pulled back against the wizard. It's nearly morning, Tak told himself as his skin crawled at the contact. This will soon be over. With that comforting thought he made his body relax, accepting the skin contact and trying his old trick of making himself enjoy it.

     A few minutes later Gal-Gowan awoke fully and started the day by again using Tak for his pleasure.