It's over, Grace thought, and with all the despair in the thought there was almost a feeling of relief. They had been outgunned when it had been just them against the mage; with the weapon against them, too, it was hopeless. She didn't have to summon up any more strength and fight her way out of this now.

But it took only a few seconds for the cry of triumph to become a roar of rage, and Grace sat back on her heels in confusion.

Benjamin gave her a sly little grin. "It turns out the thing I led him to may not have been the real Cartheno's Fire," he said.

"What do you mean?" Grace asked, feeling a little as though she should have understood more than she did. "Why would he follow you?"

"Because I'm the one who was supposed to know," he said, with such a funny little smirk that she wanted to hug him all over again. "There was some prophecy about it."

He doesn't have the weapon, she thought. I should just be glad. I can still try. I can still win this.  And then she looked at Benjamin with a growing hope.

"Then you know where it is? Cartheno's Fire?"

Benjamin laughed. "Of course I don't. Don't you think I would have mentioned it earlier? I just pretended I did." He shrugged, and Grace felt her momentary optimism come crashing down.

"So how do you know you haven't shown him the right thing?" she whispered. "If it was a prophecy and everything?"

"It was a pretty good gamble," he said, so sarcastically that she felt a familiar rush of sisterly rage. "Have you seen the size of this place? And anyway, he sounds a bit disappointed."

There was a reverberating rumble through the tower, and then another and another, and Grace realised that Edin must be hurling his magic at something. The riezehn equivalent of kicking the nearest object, she guessed.

Afi, you'd better not be in the way of that, she thought. And then she gave Benjamin a hug that ended when he elbowed her in the ribs.

"Get  off! Get off!" he shouted, and she released him and gave him a small shove instead.

"All right. I have a book to read anyway. I won't hug you any more if you promise to go and hug Ma instead."

He sighed and stood up, but she saw the little smile on his face as he caught sight of his mother for the first time in days.

Every one of the boys was awake now, though four of them – all boys in their teens, close to adult-hood - just sat staring into space, and she felt an awful twist of horror at the thought that they had lost their minds. Could she help them somehow? Or would they turn on the palace as Edin had done?

Find a way to beat the mage, she thought, and hoped fiercely that she wouldn't need the link. After that, you can try and help them.

She glanced over as Ma put one arm down to squeeze Benjamin against her side, tightly, even while she went on holding that shield, and it made Grace's eyes well up just a little. She wiped the tears away with her thumb, impatiently, but she guessed it was good to be crying for a nice reason for once.

"Can you help the other boys, Benjamin?" she called, as she picked up the book again. It felt warm in her hands, and she ran her hand along its smooth spine for a moment in gratitude at everything it had done for her already.

Just one more thing, she thought to it. Just help me once more, please.

She opened it, and then looked up at Benjamin one last time. "Can you explain everything to them?" she asked him.

"They all understand," he said, nodding his head at a red-headed boy who looked round to him. "We all saw everything through the link."

That means they know who controlled it, she thought, and felt utterly wretched.

"I'm sorry," she said, looking at the red-headed boy first, but then taking in every one of them, and seeing how pale they were, and how weak some of them seemed. "I didn't want to use you like the Queen did."

"We saw your intentions," one of the younger boys said, and it was strange to hear such an adult expression in his young voice.

The red-headed boy went on, "And we saw the threat you stood against. A greater reason for keeping us like that than to have the illusion of a child."

"Is it?" Grace asked quietly, thinking of that wailing cry out in the snow years ago, when Gregori had died in the Queen's arms.

"You need to read," the red-headed one told her, and she nodded, ashamed that she couldn't apologise to them further, and also ashamed of wasting the precious time Ma and Ruidic were giving her.

But what should I read? she thought, as she flicked through at random.

Perhaps it was thinking of Gregori and little Ori that caused her gaze to snag on the chapter about Living Spells, or perhaps it was the book trying to help her again. Whatever it was, she found herself glancing over it a little impatiently, having read it before. But only now that she read it again did she begin to realise what it was telling her.

            Living spells are those spells that have come into contact with a human mind or minds often enough to give them sentience, she read. The greater the human contact, the greater the sentience...

Which was what had made Ori like a person, she knew. This much she understood. A person who was not quite a person. Roschan had understood that.

Remembering the Captain gave her a jolt of alarm. Without the link, she had no idea whether he was all right.

You can't think about him, she told herself sternly, even though it made her ache to think of him hurt, and not knowing was like an itch she couldn't scratch. She shoved it aside as much as she could and read on.

But the contact need not be with rizehn alone. Some of the greatest mages in history would weave spells around the everyday actions of humans, and the complexity of those actions would create spells that could act to help – or to hinder – based on situation. Amongst the most powerful weaves of possibility ever created were Madela's Defence, a spell that was linked to the soldiers of the palace guard, and Kiernezan's Clouds of Magic, which were tied to a huge flock of birds.

She heard a hiss of breath from Ruidic, and she looked up in spite of herself.

"What is it?" she asked.

"He's trying to break through," he said, and glanced at her briefly. His eyes were glowing with a writhing blue and violet light that was eerie in the dimness of the room. "Hurry, Grace."

She didn't pause to answer. She just buried her head in the book again and read onwards, skimming the words for meaning, her heart beginning to pound.

It is believed by some scholars that the legendary Cartheno's Fire is such a spell, based on some of the writings about it. Its protective qualities, for example, and the way it is said to shield all those connected with it, even while they shield it. And Cartheno himself had an affinity with spells concerned with life, which makes it seem possible that what he created was the single greatest one of these in existence: a spell based on a single object that was powerful enough to destroy an army of the cold and secure his kingdom.

Grace's mouth felt dry. She knew that the book was showing her what she needed. She could feel that the answer was there, and that she knew it. ...powerful enough to destroy an army of the cold...

There was a cracking sound that made her jump. She heard Ma give a cry, and out of the corner of her eye saw Benjamin hold his hand out to her and add his power to her own. She didn't have time to think further than that he had changed as much as she had; she had to read, to understand.

That such spells have been recorded shows their scarcity in all the kingdom's history, the book went on. They are complex, vastly powerful things, and the ability to control them has only been given to a very few. Not one riezehn in a hundred thousand has had the ability to wield the power of life, which is why it is possible to catalogue the number of constructed creatures in the kingdom. And living spells that are linked to organic creatures require a greater skill and understanding of living things than the very first creation of a nightmare or an evanescent.

There was another cracking sound, and Grace felt cold. She wouldn't even know how where to start in creating a new creature. How was she to perform a far more complex spell?

But the book had shown her this, and there was a reason. Ruidic had seen it, too. She was the one who was supposed to do this. So she must be able to do it.

"How can I do it?" she whispered, and she knew that she looked as foolish speaking to the book as it was possible to look. But desperation drove her to it. "Please tell me how."

A gleaming light spread across the page, and Grace drew in a breath as it wiped away the writing from the page. And then letters started to appear across it, letters of deep gold that glowed in her vision.

You already know. You've already seen, the answer came.

Grace felt tears of frustration well in her eyes. She could see Ma and Dedora shaking where they stood, fighting to hold that shield, even as two more of the boys came to stand beside them and add their power to it.

"But I don't understand!" she said. "Please help me!"

The letters vanished, and only after a long, long few seconds while Grace panicked that she had angered the book somehow did more writing appear.

You will, it said. You're just in the wrong place. You need to return to the pinnacle, and stand beneath its crystal. Then you will see. You will see.

She breathed out, and said, "Thank you," but before she could close the book, more words appeared.

Take the ring-master with you, it said. You will need him.

She looked up at Ruidic, and saw him flinch as another cracking sound rang through the tower.

"But he has to hold the shield," she said, looking down at the book, frantically. "I can't take him away."

It will be all right, the writing said. Just hold on.

A fraction of a second later, Ruidic and Ma yelled together, and with a sound like the end of the world, the wall of the tower burst inwards and rained rock down on them both. Grace screamed as she saw a stone strike Benjamin on the side of the head, and he fell. Dedora was the last one left standing, but as the huge form of the cold mage appeared in the gap in the wall, she collapsed as though the strings supporting her had been cut.

Grace should have been looking at the mage. She knew that he expected her to. But she couldn't take her eyes off Benjamin where he lay.

Please, please, she thought, praying without knowing where to send her prayers. Please let him be all right.

She could see Ma struggling to move out of the mage's way, and Ruidic blinking as he looked up at the huge form and the stormy yellow light pouring in through the hole. But Benjamin just lay there, unmoving, and she was terrified.

Grace climbed to her knees, and started to crawl across the fragments of stone towards her brother, feeling the pain as the sharp stones dug into her kneecaps.

"Where are you going, little riezehn?" the huge man asked, and she realised this was the first time she had heard his real voice instead of a projection in her mind. It was thinner and harsher, but she could hear in it the anticipation of victory, and that hurt almost as much as the awful thundering in her had had done.

There was a sudden, sharp tug on all her limbs, and she found herself lifted up, suspended as helplessly as she had been in front of that first mage she had faced.

Just bring me close enough to kick, she thought, but he left her hanging where she was as he smiled at her. She had never seen any expression so devoid of feeling.

"I could snuff out your life with a word," he said. "Do you not understand that?"

He's angry, she thought. I made him angry. And that, according to Grace's kickboxing teacher and hours of witnessing it in fights between others and her own battles, meant he might just make a mistake. Or he might just decide to kill me, she thought, with a surge of panic.

"And I am only the vanguard of this army. His favourite general."

She saw movement out of the corner of her eye, and glanced down. Benjamin was slowly lifting his head, his eyes fixed on the mage. She wanted to shout with the relief, until she realised that he was planning something.

You have to keep him talking, she thought, and to Benjamin she thought silently, Please, please don't get yourself killed.

"Whose general?" she asked, and her voice was hoarse and weak, such a contrast with his rasping roar that she felt like a child in front of him.

"He's never had a name," he said. "He's never needed one. He is only malice, and cold, and he comes with an army that will pour over the walls of this kingdom and feast on its warm lifeblood."

He was spitting with rage, his huge head and face contorted with it. But there was enjoyment there, too. She realised, with a sick feeling, that what drove this man was bitterness.

He was a little boy called Serid, she thought, and saw a flash once again of that frightened face, and the huge form of his father, enraged with drink. Her heart ached for that boy, but as she looked at his massive and twisted features, she found that the pity died.

He chose this, she thought. He may have had everything against him, but there was a choice that brought him here.

He seemed disappointed by Grace's lack of response, and for a moment his expression grew in fury as the green light of his eyes swelled and sparked. But then a thought seemed to occur to him, and he smiled in a way that turned Grace's stomach.

"Would you like to see it?" he asked, and threw a blast of magic at her that flung her back against the far wall.

Grace had no time to react. But Benjamin did. He flung his own spell at her, a globe of light that touched and enclosed her in the fraction of a second before she hit the stone. And at the same time, she saw the other boys, acting as if they were all still connected, throw ropes of magic around the mage's legs and arms and head.

Benjamin's spell saved her from breaking her back, but the force of the spell still threw her hard enough that the stone of the wall cracked, and then started to collapse outwards. All in terrible slow motion, Grace realised that the wall was falling out into the air, and that she was falling with it.

It was like the worst nightmare she had ever had, to feel nothingness behind her, to know that she was thousands of feet above the ground, and to have no way of stopping herself from toppling.

In the time between one blink and the next, she saw the words of the book again... just hold on... and she grabbed at the crumbling stones of the wall.