It was another hour before Thomas emerged from the divination building and strolled in disappointment back to where he'd left Matthew and the others. In his hand he held a few scribbled notes, the pitifully meagre scraps of new information he'd managed to glean from the archives. His disappointment was bitter, but he was glad he'd tried. If he hadn't, he would have spent the rest of his life wondering what priceless clues he'd missed.

     Able Seaman Bakklin came running over the moment he saw the wizard. "Thank the Gods!" he gasped. "The Wing Leader's been pulling his hair out waiting for you. Follow me, please."

     "Why? What's..." But the Able Seaman was already off and Thomas had no choice but to run to keep up with him. Was Matt in trouble with the proctors? Had some ambitious apprentice cast a spell on him? One dreadful possibility after another raced through his mind and he was relieved, therefore, when they passed through a gap in a hedge and he saw Matthew crouching in the haunted vineyards, staring up at the Tower of Lexandros like a cat watching a mousehole.

     "Tom!" cried the soldier as he heard them approach. "What in the name of Hell... Never mind that now. Saturn's in there! In that tower!"

     "Are you sure?" asked the wizard in astonishment.

     "I saw him go in myself. Stone's been watching the rear. We've got him trapped."

     Thomas barked a laugh. "It'll take more than us to trap Saturn. We've got to get word to Seskip. But how? We don't even know where he is." He stamped back and forth in frustration. "If only I knew the Farspeaking spell. Wait a minute! The Trumpets of Farspeaking! They're long gone in our time, but here... But where would they be?"

     "What are you talking about?" demanded Matthew.

     He was talking to empty air, though. Thomas was already running back towards the divination building. Everything else was in that building. It stood to reason that the Farspeaking booths would be as well. He skidded to a halt as a thought came to him. "Have you eaten any of those grapes?" he called back.

     "No!" called back Matthew. "Why?"

     "Don't!" ordered Thomas, and then he was away again, his coat flapping out behind him as he flew along the path.

     Luck was with him. A teaching wizard, a tall thin man with a long black beard, dressed in the green and black robes of the school of alteration, was entering just as he arrived and Thomas put a hand on his arm to get his attention. "Eh-hexcuse me, Master," he panted. "Can you tell me where the Trumpets of Farspeaking are?"

     The alterer glared down at him with disapproval. "Wizards do not run," he chided. "Never, under any circumstances. What kind of example are you trying to set the students?"

     "I apologise, Master," said Thomas, "but it is rather urgent. If you can just point me in the right direction?"

     The alterer sighed. "In there," he said, pointing to a door just inside the entrance, opposite the Head Proctor's office. "And don't let me catch you running again."

     Thomas gasped his thanks and dashed his way into the room that was a cloakroom in his own time. Inside, a number of bronze funnels stood on top of marble pillars of varying height; tall ones for the use of humans and shorter ones for the use of shae folk and nomes. One was already in use. A nomish apprentice, his white robes trimmed with the blue of the school of divination, was standing before the shortest pillar and still had to stand on his toes to bring his lips level with the mouthpiece of the funnel. He was speaking, but Thomas couldn't hear his words. The funnel, a kind of magic trumpet, was taking his words and sending them hundreds, perhaps thousands of miles to where someone, a relative perhaps, was hearing them as though he were standing right next to him.

     Thomas went to one of the taller pillars, the mouthpiece of whose funnel was at just the right height. He froze in sudden uncertainty. How did these things work? Did he have to give a word of command to activate it? He toyed with the idea of asking the nome, but he didn't want to appear foolish and so decided to just try it first. "Seskip Tonn," he said therefore. "I want to speak to Seskip Tonn."

     He gasped with delight as he felt the connection being made, and then the angry voice of the Head Proctor was in his head. "Gown! Why haven't you returned to the ship as I ordered?"

     Thomas spoke quickly before his disobedience could become an issue. "We've found Saturn," he said. "He's in the Tower of Lexandros."

     "The Tower of... Of course! That's where the artifact collection was kept until the reign of Sar-Tisin. Has he seen you?"

     "No. Matt and the others are watching the tower but keeping out of sight."

     Thomas waited for a reply, but the connection had been broken. He dashed back to the haunted vineyards, where Matthew was still waiting. "Seskip and his cronies just appeared over there," said the soldier, pointing to the tower, "and ran in. You can just see Zanda. Seskip left him to guard the entrance while the others went further in. They'll have him soon."

     "Or he'll have them," muttered the wizard. "They're just proctors. Chosen more for their ability to be physically intimidating than for their spellcasting power. Saturn, on the other hand, is one of the mightiest wizards of our age. Unless they take him completely by surprise, he'll wipe the floor with them."

☆☆☆

     Saturn was certainly ready to wipe the floor with someone. Upon arrival, he'd made his way to the central staircase, paused briefly to scan for magical defences with his magic sense and then activated his Robes of Flying to speed up to the top. Now he was working his way back down, checking each room as he went, and was halfway back to ground level without having found anything.

     His initial disappointment at not finding the artifact repository at the top of the tower, where it was supposed to be, had been tempered by the knowledge that 'top' could mean anything in the top third. The very top itself was, he had begun to think, too obvious a place to hide some of the most dangerous artifacts in the world. It would be the first place a thief would look, as he had. No, it would be lower down. Hidden in the maze of rooms and corridors and surrounded by traps and defences both magical and mechanical in nature that would only admit those who knew the passwords. Passwords that were known only to a handful of the most senior wizards and that hadn't changed since the founding of the University.

     Now, though, he was halfway down and still hadn't felt even the tiniest tingling of his magic sense to tell him he was approaching the guarded area. What was more, the whole tower had a feeling of desertion and abandonment. Apprentices came here to lark around in their free time, as evidenced by the names and vulgar messages carved into the stone walls and the litter that had drifted into corners and crannies. This was a place that had long since ceased to have any useful function and was now just a decaying monument to the pioneering early days of the University's history.

     Saturn swore bitterly. Either he'd mistaken the date on which the repository had been moved to the more secure underground vaults, or it was hidden in the tower so skillfully that he'd gone right past it without realising. What was he going to do now? Seskip was somewhere behind him, he didn't dare stay in one place too long. Even if the repository was here he couldn't take the time to look for it. He had to move on. Think of something else.

     He made his way back to the central stairwell, preparing to activate his Robes of Flying for the drop back down, then froze, every sense at full alert. There was a faint source of magic registering on his magic sense. The repository? Could it still be somewhere below him? No, he realised as he paused to identify the feeling. It wasn't a static magic spell but the magical aura surrounding a wizard. A wizard had entered the tower. Seskip? He brought the words of attack and defensive spells to the forefront of his mind and froze in place, straining his aged ears to listen for the faintest sound.

     There it was, the scrape of boot against stone somewhere below. Someone was climbing the steps, slowly and furtively. Saturn prepared to cast a holding spell, then thought better of it. Seskip would have brought others with him. A holding spell would only take one of them and give away his position to the others. Plus, of course, he was burdened by an armful of books. Well, obviously he wasn't going to get the chance to read them for a while now, so he shrunk them and tucked them into a pouch. Now he had both hands free and was ready to face his pursuers. Let them discover the folly of harassing Saturn Vasil Mon-Morchov!

     He could sense the magical fields surrounding them, and although their magic senses would not be as fully developed as his, he had to assume that they would soon be able to sense him the same way, if they couldn't already. He couldn't mask his own magical aura. Any spell he cast in an attempt to do so would have a detectable field of its own, but he could provide a decoy target to draw their fire, make them give away their positions. He smiled wickedly as he cast a spell.

     The decoy target was a modified Invisible Servant that radiated a magical field much more powerful than his own. He sent it down the stairwell at about the speed and gait of a cautiously creeping man, and by means of a clairvoyance spell he was able to see and hear as though he were standing where it was. He could even shoot spells out of it! It had all the advantages of actually being there with none of the dangers of exposing himself, and the only drawback was that he could only maintain it for a few minutes before developing a headache severe enough to make further spellcasting impossible.

     The decoy had descended two floors when a figure leapt out of a doorway ahead of it. Saturn recognised Landar Bewt. A thuggish young man who lacked the intellect ever to become a really good wizard but whose pompous delight at bossing people around made him ideal proctor material. He had already begun casting a spell before realising there was nothing ahead of him but empty air, but Saturn knew that his underdeveloped magic sense would be jangling like crazy.

     Saturn was hoping that the man would think he'd become invisible, and indeed the Proctor completed the spell, causing streamers of coloured light to spring from his fingertips. It was a spell that only proctors were allowed to learn, and if Saturn had indeed been standing there the streamers would have wrapped themselves around him, binding him helplessly and draining all the magic force from his body. Instead, though, the Streamers of Wizard Binding flew unimpeded across the empty stairwell to dash themselves against the stone wall in a shower of golden sparks. Landar Bewt stared in amazement, and was frozen in that posture by the Ray of Paralysis that hit him from out of the empty air.

☆☆☆

     Further below, Seskip watched the brief exchange by means of a different form of clairvoyance magic; an Eye of Seeing that he'd sent floating up beside Bewt and that transmitted back images of everything it saw. "Your turn," he said to Tol Poldark, the third proctor. "Glory and rich rewards if you take him."

     The proctor, the most powerful member of Seskip's posse with the exception of Seskip himself, swallowed nervously, then nodded and began to climb. He'd sworn an oath when he joined the proctorhood. An oath that he was now beginning to regret.

     Seskip watched with a smile of satisfaction as his subordinate climbed. He would fail, of course, but in the process Saturn would be further weakened while he, Seskip, would still be fresh and rested. Saturn's advantage of superior skill and power would be removed. It would be a battle of equals when it came time for Seskip to climb the stairs, and he had the advantage of knowing spells whose sole purpose was to subdue wizards. He had little doubt of the final outcome. Saturn was his, and the taking of such a powerful wizard would be a tremendous boost to his reputation and ambitions. Those who might otherwise have opposed him would remember him as the man who'd bested Saturn, and that would make them hold back a little in doubt and uncertainty. Make them think twice before crossing him.

☆☆☆

     Saturn, meanwhile, was well aware of the tactics being used by the Head Proctor. Send his subordinates to wear him down before coming himself. It was a good plan and the danger was very real. Best for him to make his escape while he still could. Make his way to a window and fly away. He planned out in his mind the route he would have to take. Down that corridor, through that door, then through another door in the room's far side, assuming that this level of the tower was laid out to the same plan as the one above. He couldn't run right away, though. To do so would be to give the proctors a free shot at his fleeing back. First he had to drive them back. Make them give him the space he needed.

     His modified Invisible Servant spell transmitted back images of another proctor climbing the stairs, but the effort of maintaining the spell was beginning to take its toll of him. Reluctantly, he let it lapse and began the casting of another spell. Shapes began to take form ahead of him. Hideous creatures with teeth and horns and tough, scaly skin. Kelks, summoned from the White Mountains a few hundred miles to the east and surprised to suddenly find themselves half way up a stone tower. They screamed their fury at the wizard, but the power of the spell bound them to obey him. "Kill the man climbing the stairs," he commanded, and the kelks found themselves moving to obey.

     That should keep him busy for a while, he thought. He didn't for a moment imagine that the kelks would actually manage to kill the proctor, although he wouldn't shed any tears if they did. If they just slowed him down for a bit, though...

      He backed warily away from the stairs and down the corridor he'd chosen, alert for any threat that might issue from the stairwell. He was halfway to the door when he heard screams of rage from the kelks and the panicked casting of spells by the proctor. His magic sense throbbed with the waves of magic force being unleashed below him. Kelks screamed in pain and sudden fear, and Saturn knew that they would be running by now if it wasn't for the spell that drove them to keep on attacking. Another spell was cast, and the screams were cut off with a yelp and a whimper.

     Saturn had reached the first door by now and he slipped quickly through it. He heard running feet in the stairwell, the proctor coming after him once more. He closed the door, cast a locking spell on it, then turned for the other door in the room's far wall.

     He was in a circular corridor that ran between the central core of laboratories and storerooms and the outer ring of what had been apprentice dormitories in the first few centuries of the University's history. There was a door just a few yards away, but he could hear the proctor smashing his way through the locked door, demolishing half the wall in the process. Saturn couldn't retreat any further just yet, not with an enemy on his tail. He had to stop and make a stand. He turned and began the casting of another spell.

     The locked door exploded and the second proctor stepped through, just in time for a blast of magical power to hit him full in the face and chest. Most of it was deflected by the Wall of Force he'd erected in front of him, but he was still hurled back to trip and fall over the remains of the wall he'd smashed. Saturn strode in, cancelling the proctor's protective spell with a casual wave of his hand, and he sneered triumphantly as he began the chanting of magic words. "No, please!" begged the proctor, and then he froze as his flesh was turned to stone.

     Seskip would be close behind, he knew. To catch him before he had a chance to recover. He had to leave, now. A wave of dizziness swept over him, though, and he had to lean on a wall for support until it passed. I'm old, he thought sickly. It's been years since I last exerted myself like this. If I'm not careful, Seskip won't have to capture me. I'll just collapse in his arms.

     He waited as long as he dared for his elderly body to recover, then forced himself to stand upright and stagger towards the door.

☆☆☆

     The release of so much magical energy in the tower was detectable from a much greater distance than even Saturn realised. Mak Domar, the wizard who was the University's Head Proctor in this century, sensed it and leaned forward in his chair, suddenly at full alert.

     "A duel!" he snarled, gesturing for his subordinates to come to him. "A pair of fools are fighting a wizard's duel, somewhere in the University grounds! Spread out, find them!"

     The proctors ran to obey, spreading out in all directions, their magic senses at full alert, while the Head Proctor remained in his office, waiting for them to report back to him. "Dueling in the University grounds," he growled to himself. "And senior wizards too, by the feel of it. They'll be lucky if I don't demagestrate the pair of them."