It was Seskip himself who arrived a couple of hours later, with three burly proctors who stared at Thomas as if he were the one who'd committed the crime. After demanding to know whether Saturn had returned, he told Thomas to tell him everything that had happened since leaving Kronos, leaving out nothing, no matter how trivial it might appear.

     Thomas did so, stammering badly under the Head Proctor's piercing gaze. He half expected to be accused of some crime himself, and to his shame he found himself repeating over and over again that he'd had no idea what the elder wizard had in mind. He didn't seem to be able to stop himself.

     "What do we do?" one of the proctors asked the Head Proctor when he'd finally finished.

     "Our first priority is to ensure that he does not take the secret of immortality back to Tharia," Seskip replied. "The ship's teleportation chamber has been disabled, therefore, until we have the situation under control. We will wait until dawn tomorrow. If he returns during that time we will place him under arrest, destroy any books or papers he brings with him and erase the secret from his mind with amnesia spells. If he has not returned, however, we will have to go look for him."

     "You mean, go through the ring?" the proctor asked apprehensively.

     "Yes. We cannot leave him at large back there. He may be captured by an Immortal Wizard and his knowledge of the future used to terrible effect. In order not to compound the risk, each of us who goes back will be hypnotically conditioned to lose all knowledge of our time if captured." He turned to Thomas. "You can teleport, can you not?"

     "Y-yes," stammered Thomas, his heart in his throat. He knew with dreadful certainty what was coming.

     "Good. You will be coming with us. We will need another wizard able to teleport in case anything happens to me. If I am captured or killed, it will be your responsibility to bring the party back. There are soldiers on board, are there not?"

     "Yes, proctor. Three of them."

     "Good. We may need protection against more mundane dangers. Ideally, I would have preferred more than three..."

     "We can bring as many as we need up from the valley," suggested one of the junior proctors.

     "Unfortunately, we cannot," replied the Head Proctor. "This ship is under quarantine until the situation is resolved. No-one comes or goes from Tharia. It is down to those of us now aboard this ship to deal with the matter. Give me the Coronet of Farspeaking, I must confer with the Director. The rest of you go back to whatever you were doing, but make sure you are available in case I have need of you."

☆☆☆

     The inner doors of three of the ship's airlocks were opened, making it impossible for anyone to get in that way, and the three proctors stood guard by the fourth, ready to apprehend Saturn if he tried to sneak aboard that way. Seskip toured the ship, familiarising himself with its layout, and spent a couple of hours examining the dead ring in the hanger deck. He cast a couple of spells on it, refusing to explain what they were, and looked disappointed when they had no obvious effect.

     He went out onto the walkway, with Thomas to help him get about without gravity, and they found an invisible rope tied to the railing, its other end drifting in empty space. Seskip's face went dark with anger as he gathered it up in his hands, proof that Saturn had indeed gone through the ring after having turned himself invisible to avoid being seen in the bridge's scrying mirror. The Head Proctor then returned to the bridge and sat in Saturn's chair, staring silently at the image of the ring in the mirror.

     Thomas sought out Matthew, finding him and the other two soldiers slapping paint on another of the ship's corridors. They were grumbling under their breaths again, but when the wizard told them what was happening their faces paled with fear.

     "We're going through the ring?" Matthew said, eyes wide.

     "Tomorrow morning, unless Saturn comes back before then," repeated Thomas. He was also afraid, but unlike the others he was also bright eyed with excitement. "Just think! We'll be seeing Agglemon at the very height of its glory and splendour! The whole continent plus Garon, all under the control of one Emperor, ruling from Damacria to Agorro! From Belthar to Astaro! The Great Age of Peace that lasted for a thousand years! An age of unparalleled cultural and artistic achievement, and we're going to see it first hand!"

     "The Mage Wars," countered Matthew solemnly. "The Westland campaigns. The pakin-kho wars. The food riots. The tyranny of the Tosc dynasty..."

     "None of them lasted more than a few years at a time, spread out across a thousand years," said Thomas irrepressibly. "Even the Mage Wars were just a series of isolated battles, none of which lasted more than a few days..."

     "And laid waste to hundreds of square miles, some parts of which are still uninhabitable today. And I've heard of wars between Immortal Wizards that lasted decades!"

     "They were just long stalemates. The actual fighting was quick and violent, when one of the combatants was able to gain an advantage over the other. The chances of us arriving in the middle of a battle are tiny. It wasn't called the Great Age of Peace for nothing. It really was an age of peace and tranquility, when all the forces of evil were temporarily suppressed. A golden age. The pinnacle of human achievement."

     Matthew nodded reluctantly. "I suppose," he said, "but how will these paragons of virtue and brotherly love feel about visitors from the future if they find out who we are?"

     "We'll just have to make sure they don't find out," said the wizard with a grin. "If anyone asks, we just say we're visitors from a far flung province. That's the reason for our strange accents and clothing."

     "But we're soldiers! I know enough history to know that Agglemon recognised no other human nation. A civilian who claimed to be a citizen of some other nation was only thrown in jail until he swore an oath of allegiance to the Emperor, but soldiers of other nations were considered traitors to the Empire. We could be executed!"

     Borlin and Ihvon gave each other a worried glance but Thomas only grinned wider. "Only if they find out you're soldiers," he said. "I won't tell them if you don't. Relax, Matt! We're going to have a great time! Think of it as a well deserved holiday."

     "Yeah, I suppose," agreed the soldier, a smile creeping across his face. "But it's not a holiday, is it? We're going to be looking for Saturn, a wizard easily powerful enough to wipe the floor with all of us. We're going to try to persuade him to come back with us. What if he decides not to come quietly?"

     "That's Seskip's problem. Him and the proctors. The rest of us will just be there to support them. If Saturn ties them all up in knots, I bring us all back here and the Director thinks of something else." He frowned. "You know what bothers me, though? Technically, the proctors have no jurisdiction out here. Their job is to uphold the University's rules, but those rules only hold in the valley itself. Outside, every wizard is free to do as he wants. If Saturn wants to go back in time to discover the secret of immortality, then no-one can say he can't. I could do the same if I wanted, and no-one could legally stop me."

     "I suppose they consider this an issue of such overwhelming importance that the normal rules don't apply," said Matthew thoughtfully.

     "Yes, but it's setting a precedent, isn't it? What if they try to extend their authority over wizards all over the world? Something like this would be just the thing to encourage them."

     "I think you're worrying unnecessarily," said the soldier. "I've known a few wizards in my time and I can't see them giving up their freedom without a fight."

     "That's what I'm afraid of!" He wiped a hand across his brow. "You're probably right, though. It's an exceptional situation. The rediscovery of the secret of immortality must be prevented. They'll stop Saturn, and then everything will go back to the way it was." He continued to worry, though, and fretted over it all through that long, long day.

     Night came, followed by dawn, with no sign of Saturn, and Seskip called the search party to the airlock. The three soldiers were dressed in civilian clothes, conjured up by the Head Proctor himself using a spell he hadn't used since he was twenty, and they wore swords belted around their waists. The wizards, in contrast, wore long flowing robes with plenty of pockets for their spellbooks and spell components.

     "I'm not sure about the swords," said Matthew, fingering the standard Beltharan issue weapon doubtfully. "Why would people living in a golden age of peace and tranquility want to wear swords?"

     "There were times when the wearing of fake swords was very fashionable, especially among young men hoping to impress the ladies," replied one of the proctors, an uncharacteristically pleasant example of his profession by the name of Zanda. He was also something of a historian with a particular interest in Agglemon, which was why he'd been chosen by the Head Proctor for this mission. "So long as no-one looks too closely and sees they're real, you'll be okay."

     "Fashionable?" said the soldier. "But fashions come and go. What if we arrive in a time when it's not the fashion?"

     "Then people will either think you're ground breakingly innovative, a fashion icon heralding a new age, or a sad old git hopelessly behind the times. Look, don't worry. The Empire was unbelievably diverse. The wearing of fake swords is bound to be in fashion in some province or other. If someone starts asking awkward questions, just play it by ear."

     "And I feel naked without my armour," griped Matthew. "Nothing but a thin layer of fabric between me and an enemy thrust."

     "I thought soldiers were supposed to be brave," said the proctor, grinning.

     "Who told you that? All the brave ones die young, charging in to face impossible odds. Any soldier who survives more than a few months is a confirmed coward who won't face an enemy unless he outnumbers him at least six to one. That certainly describes me, anyway."

     "Where are we going, anyway?" asked Thomas, checking the heavy wooden buttons that held his spellbook pocket closed against pickpockets.

     "Mala," replied Seskip, opening the airlock door. "I spent a few months in the ruins of Old Mala a few years ago, looking for a relic said to be hidden somewhere in the rubble. Hopefully, the layout of the city will be similar enough to what I remember to guide a teleportation spell."

     "Hopefully," moaned Matthew, who'd heard stories of what happened when teleportation spells went wrong.

     "The basic layout of Agglemonian cities tended to remain constant for century after century," said Zanda reassuringly. "They built for eternity. They thought their Empire would last for ever and so they built their cities from solid stone. When they made something, they meant for it to last for a long, long time."

     "So is that where Saturn went?" asked Thomas. "What if he's set a trap for us? He could have given our descriptions to the local authorities. Told them we're criminals."

     "To the best of my knowledge Saturn has never been to Mala," Seskip replied. "He probably went to Fort Battleaxe. He spent some time there a few years back, when the Orb of Proofing failed. He knows the tower well enough to use it as a teleport destination. And so," he said, studying the soldiers with slitted, unblinking eyes. "If everyone's ready..."

     They were, or at least as ready as they would ever be, so the Head Proctor led the way into the airlock. The others followed behind him, each of them wondering what lay in store for them on the other side of the ring.