Ten minutes later, they gasped with relief to see the Tower of Sorcery ahead of them. It was ringed by a circular road that should have been one of the city's most important hubs, but only a few small carriages drove around it, their drivers urging their horses to a swift canter. There was a pavement around the circular road, connecting the half dozen or so streets running away from it, and that pavement should have been packed with pedestrians as the shortest and most convenient route between those streets and the buildings that stood along them, but instead it was almost deserted. People in this part of the city looked for other routes to wherever they were going. Routes that went way out of their way but had the virtue of not going so close to the dreadful tower.

     Those people who had no choice but to pass by the tower kept their gaze firmly away from it, Thomas noticed, as if afraid of seeing a wizard looking back at them. Looking at the tower himself, Thomas saw that there were indeed wizards standing on the circular pavement, some of them puffing on pipes as they watched the world go by. They were dressed in the ankle length silver and black robes that had become almost the unofficial uniform of University wizards in Agglemonian times. It was one of the very few traditions that had been dropped over the centuries, mainly due to the surviving wizards wanting to avoid notice during the bad days of the Massacre.

     There was a wizard striding purposefully away from the tower on some business or other. He was surrounded by a shimmering globe of luminescence that proudly proclaimed his power to all who saw him, while at the same time protecting him from thrown bricks and bottles. The pride and arrogance of his posture filled Thomas with disgust. It was all too easy to imagine him sneering down his nose at the mundanes, perhaps shoving them out of his path with spellforce. No wonder they rose up against us, he thought. He made him want to lob a few bricks himself.

     Looking back at the tower, he again saw it as the mundanes would see it. Saw it as the embodiment of that same pride and arrogance, the same sneering superiority. It shone through in every block of stone, every window and balcony, and it could be seen from every part of the city. The wizards living in it were literally looking down on the mundanes. Mocking them, laughing at them, or so the citizens of Mala must think, seeing it there every second of every day, looking into their lives like a nosy neighbour.

     Do the wizards know how much they're hated? he wondered. Maybe most of them lived such blinkered, sheltered lives that they truly didn't. He knew of several wizards in his own age who shunned the company of others, keeping only a small staff of servants and spending every waking moment either locked up in their laboratories or out in the desolate places of the world searching for rare spell components. There was no reason to believe that Agglemonian wizards behaved any differently, but there had to be a great many who knew exactly how the mundanes thought of them. Don't they care? thought Thomas in disbelief. Maybe they revel in it. Exult in their ability to strike terror into others. If that was the case, then they had no-one to blame for the Massacre but themselves.

     The soldiers were faltering in their stride, reluctant to approach such an intimidating building. Fearful of attracting the wrath of its terrible occupants. Thomas could see the picture forming in Matthew's mind. They would knock timidly on the huge brass doors, inadvertently sounding a great booming echo that would reverberate throughout the dark, empty corridors of the tower, causing stern, grey bearded heads to look up from their incomprehensible work, angry at the interruption. A small flap would open in the door and furious eyes would glare out. "What do you want?" the doorkeeper would ask. "You're not a wizard. Go away." The door would open a crack to let Thomas in, and then the soldiers would be turned away to wander the streets, lost and bewildered...

     "Stay brave," Thomas said, hanging back to let them catch up with him. "We've all faced terrors beyond the imagination of most of the people in that tower, I shouldn't wonder. Some of the senior wizards may have travelled to strange and terrible dimensions, but most of them have never known any life beyond a rich and comfortable city. It’s they who should fear us, not the other way round."

     Matthew laughed. "Who are you trying to convince? Us or yourself?"

     Thomas stared in confusion for a while, then realised that he was shivering with fear, had been ever since turning the corner and seeing the tower ahead of them. He grinned nervously, Matthew grinned back and suddenly they both felt much better, a new confidence that transmitted itself to Stone and Bakklin. The juniors were trained to go where they were led, and would do so as long as their commander had a strong heart and a steady nerve. Now that Matthew had conquered his fears, they were ready to fight dragons.

     They crossed the circular street by means of a wide underpass, and then they found themselves standing before the doors themselves. They were twelve feet tall, studded and strapped with real steel, and were reached by climbing a flight of semicircular steps. A pair of stone dragons stood guard, one on either side. Thomas felt the power emanating from them and guessed that they would come to life if the tower was threatened by enemies. The whole place was evidently designed to be intimidating, to keep away unwanted visitors. Seskip had said that ordinary citizens were free to enter the tower, but he was willing to bet that only the rich and powerful actually did so. Your average citizen would never dare to even approach the forbidding entrance.

     Reaching the door, Thomas reached for the huge brass knocker, held in the mouth of a snarling lion, and his heart froze in shock when his hand went right through it. It went right through the brass and steel of the door as well. He glanced back at the others, shrugged and stepped through the illusion. Logical, I suppose, he told himself. Anything that can get past a pair of living stone dragons isn't going to be stopped by a few inches of wood.

     He was alone in the dark hallway for a few moments before Matthew plucked up the nerve to follow him, followed by the two junior soldiers, and the four of them stood shoulder to shoulder as they stared around in wonder, each of them taking comfort from the physical presence of his fellows. The steps continued up before them, wide enough to allow a dozen men to walk abreast. The way was lit by glowing globes of marble that hovered near the sloping ceiling, spaced evenly a couple of feet below the murals depicting various historical characters, only a few of whom they recognised. So much had been lost in the fall of Agglemon that even professional historians had only a patchy knowledge of the ages that had preceded the Empire.

     The four visitors shared a nervous glance, then started to climb. No sound from the city outside penetrated the walls of the tower. They walked in perfect silence, so that even the shuffling of their boots on the stone stairs sounded loud enough that everyone in the tower must be able to hear it. They climbed at least thirty feet, enough to take them past the lowermost two or three levels, but saw no sign of any exits to left or right. Thomas wondered whether there was another way into those levels, or whether the lowest thirty feet of the tower was solid stone. Perhaps it was part of the tower's defences, or perhaps a solid base was needed to give it structural strength.

     The top of the staircase opened out into a circular chamber about a hundred feet across, almost wide enough to form a complete level. Another staircase alongside the wall led further up, and for those wizards capable of levitation there was a wide hole in the centre of the ceiling, the base of a shaft that ran vertically up the tower. There were several doors leading into other, presumably much smaller rooms alongside this one, and one of them opened as a man emerged.

     He was young, in his early twenties by the look of him, but with a shaven head and spiralling blue tattoos decorating his scalp. He was dressed in a high collared black robe that concealed his entire body except for his face and an inch of pale wrist where each hand of his folded arms was tucked into the sleeve of his other arm. He paused for a moment in the doorway, studying them, and Thomas had a momentary glimpse of the room behind him. It seemed to be totally empty with bare stone walls, but a window showed a view out over the city. Then the door closed by itself as he stepped forward, nodding a greeting to Thomas.

     "A Lexandrian wizard, I perceive, but not one I have ever met before. Welcome to the Mala Tower of Sorcery. May your visit here be a profitable one."

     "We're just passing through," replied Thomas. "We want to use your teleportation cubicle to go to the University."

     "Of course. That facility is freely available to all the Alumni. I perceive that you have a teleportation spell, however. If you will forgive my curiosity, who do you not go there under your own power?"

     Thomas struggled to conceal his amazement. He could sense which spells a wizard knew? He'd never heard of anyone having such a precise magic sense! He had to pretend he already knew about it, though, in case his ignorance betrayed him. For all he knew, all wizards of this age knew about it.

     "We don't expect to be staying there very long," he said therefore. "We just have a brief bit of business to conduct. We'll hopefully be teleporting home later today. And now, if you've finished prying into our affairs..."

     "It is one of my duties to vet all those who enter the tower," the man replied, unperturbed. "We have to guard ourselves against our enemies. You said we. I presume these are the people you wish to take with you." He indicated the soldiers, who bristled at being regarded as little more than items of baggage but remained silent.

     "That's right," said Thomas. "So if you could just point us in the right direction..."

     "So long as you undertake to keep them under your control. You will be responsible for their conduct during your time in the University grounds. May I have your name and the year in which you graduated?"

     Thomas had been expecting this and had given some thought as to how he would respond. If he gave his true name and they discovered that no such wizard had graduated in the year he gave, they could all find themselves in trouble. He had decided to adopt a professional name, therefore, as many wizards did, and keep his real name secret. He toyed with the idea of calling himself Malefactos or Tragius Demonbinder, but those names were known to Saturn and if he somehow heard them he would know that they were coming for him.

     He eventually plumped for the name his character had played in Kama Skallin's play, therefore. He liked that name. It felt right somehow. In some strange way it felt more right, more truly him, than his real name. "Saffire," he said therefore. "Class of 98."

     The year was another problem. He had no idea what year he was in. He'd meant to ask the landlady of the boarding house but he'd forgotten. If this was the year something ninety five, therefore, he would have just made himself over a hundred years old, but in the age of the immortal wizards that wasn't necessarily the problem it would have been in his own time.

     The man stared at him. "Sapphire?" he said with a smirk. "So that's the explanation for your blue clothes. You wish to emulate Lord Sapphire of the Gem Lords." He stared sharply at the younger wizard. "So long as you do not try to emulate all his deeds. Remember the laws of the University."

     Thomas stared back in confusion. He had no idea what he meant and he was afraid to ask.

     "The chamber is this way," said the tower wizard at last, to Thomas's relief. "If you will follow me..." He led the way towards the steps leading up, to the higher levels of the tower.

     Thomas's mind spun as they climbed. A Gem Lord named Sapphire! Well of course, there was a Ruby and an Emerald, why shouldn't there have been a Sapphire? But it had never occurred to him that he might be naming himself after one. He tried to remember how he'd decided upon that name while rehearsing for the play, but he hadn't exactly chosen it. It had just popped into his head all by itself and had seemed right. He must have read the name while researching the Gem Lords and it had stuck in his memory without his being aware of it. Yes, that had to be it. He trembled with excitement. He'd had almost no luck in his researches, almost no records had survived from that distant age, but maybe information was available here that had been lost in the fall of Agglemon. "The Gem Lords?" he asked therefore. "Who are they?"

     "You've never heard of them?" the man asked without looking around.

     "No, I had no idea I'd taken someone else's name. Maybe I'd better change it before he finds out and comes after me."

     "I wouldn't worry about that. They lived two thousand years ago. Before the discovery of Amafryka even. They were a group of seven wizards, all named after a different gemstone. The secret of immortality hadn't been discovered then, of course, so when they grew old they turned themselves into raks. They... Careful!"

     Thomas had missed a step in his sudden shock, had almost fallen back into Matthew's arms, and it took him a moment or two to compose himself. Raks! There had been a rak called Sapphire! Saturn thought that his acquired memories were the result of his having come into contact with some kind of undead creature, although he'd thought it had probably been just a harmless shade, and the name Saffire had just popped into his head as if from nowhere... And his memories seemed to date from the era of the Gem Lords, to within a few centuries at least. Could it be? Was it possible? Could his acquired memories belong to a rak?

     "Two thousand years is a long time," he ventured. "Is there any chance these raks could be still around?"

     "I would say not," the man replied. "They evolve, you see. A young rak is a walking corpse, like a zombie although with terrifying powers, but as the centuries pass their bodies decay and their powers grow until they become creatures of pure spirit. Long before that, though, they tend to grow bored with this world and set off to explore the planes of existence. You can only stay interested in building empires and commanding armies for so long. Even if the Gem Lords escaped the clutches of the priests of Samnos, they're long gone. Forgive my misplaced sense of humour, you don't have to fear being visited by a rak."

     Perhaps I've already been visited by a rak, thought Thomas unhappily. It occurred to him that his dreams had begun shortly after his visit to the Ruby Keep, possibly a place of the Gem Lords. He remembered that they'd all been stunned by some strange force as they entered, all except Arroc Truvale, a trog who'd been with them at the time. His sturdy constitution had allowed him to resist the effects of that force, although he'd pretended to be overcome by it along with the others. When they recovered consciousness he'd told them that Thomas had been temporarily separated from the others. Taken away and later returned with the intention that he would never know about it. What had happened to him during that time? Had something been done to him? If so, by who, or by what? And for what reason?

     These thoughts spun around in his head, driving him into a frantic fear that things were happening to him over which he had no control. His surroundings blurred into insignificance. He plodded up the endless staircase without being aware of it and would have continued all the way to the top if Matthew hadn't grabbed his arm.

     "Tom! We're here! Tom!"

     He blinked himself back into awareness. They were on a wide landing, the stairs continuing up twenty yards ahead of them. To their right a passage led towards the centre of the tower, where it opened out into a wide circular space from which other passages led away. There were half a dozen doors in sight, one of which was standing ajar revealing a storeroom of some kind stacked high with crates and boxes. One door was locked shut with a stout iron padlock. There were fewer of the glowing globes of marble here, giving the place a gloomy look. The look of a place to which people seldom came. And yet the teleportation cubicle is here somewhere, thought Thomas in confusion. It must be hardly ever used. Maybe most people go to and from the University under their own power.

     "We were travelling with friends," said Thomas, "and became separated in the city. They were also coming here, would have arrived here yesterday. Do you remember seeing them?"

     "A colleague of mine was on duty yesterday," the wizard replied. "He said nothing to me, but that doesn't mean anything. He's not the sort to volunteer information."

     "But he would have passed on any message that had been left for us," pressed Matthew.

     The wizard stared at him in amazement, as if a sheep had spoken to him, then pointedly ignored the soldier and addressed his reply to Thomas. "There were no messages left, and I remind you again that you are responsible for the conduct of any mundanes you take to the University."

     "I beg your pardon?" roared Matthew in outrage. "Just who do you think..."

     Thomas grabbed his arm and pulled him forcefully away from the gatekeeper. "Take it easy!" he hissed urgently. "I know it's annoying but don't let it get to you."

     "Easy for you to say," grumbled the soldier, but he said nothing more; merely glaring at the gatekeeper until the shaven headed wizard blinked nervously and led them along one of the corridors.

     The teleportation chamber was through the second door on the left; a small room about six feet square with walls, floor and ceiling of polished silver. There was a second door in the far wall, the door that led to the University. "Here you are," the gatekeeper said, showing them in. "You know how to use one of these?"

     "We've used them before," Thomas assured him. "Thanks for your help."

     The gatekeeper nodded and closed the door behind them. They heard his footsteps moving along the stone floor, back the way they'd come.

     "Well, here we go," said Thomas, grasping the handle of the second door. "Ready?"

     "As I'll ever be," said Matthew, taking a deep breath. He turned to Bakklin and Stone. "Stay close to me and say nothing to anyone unless you're directly addressed by a wizard. If that happens, keep your answers as short and simple as possible. Our story is that we're mercenaries, hired by Tom to help him through some difficult country. What we were doing there is his business and we didn't ask. Understand?"

     "Understood," the two younger men replied.

     "Okay," said Matthew to Thomas. "Let's go then."

     Thomas nodded and opened the door.