"Have you heard?" asked Tassley excitedly, dashing into the alchemical workroom.

     Thomas, Karem and Edward were carefully measuring out tiny quantities of powdered plant extract into hundreds of small, glass tubes. Further down the wooden bench, Pondar had painstakingly rebuilt his alchemical apparatus and was only waiting for his assistants to finish preparing the ingredients before starting his experiments all over again. Pondar himself had left for the time being, to see about procuring the last of the essential ingredients, and had left his assistants to carry on without him. He had a healthy mistrust of his assistants' abilities, though, and when he returned he would scrutinise their work in minute detail to make sure it was up to the necessary standard before proceeding further, and the Gods help them if it wasn't.

     "What news?" asked Edward, looking up. He stretched to ease the cramp in his shoulders and heard his spine creaking and popping.

     "The mystery intruder's struck again," said Tassley, hopping up to sit on the bench next to Thomas. She crossed her legs and her lab robes, which were only belted around her waist, parted at the knees to reveal a perfect ankle. She still hadn't given up on him. "Crept into the Owen Maglia building and smashed Artur's crystal tears. All of them!"

     The others stared in shock and stopped what they were doing to gather round.

     "Artur's incandescent!" the girl continued. "He's shouting that he wants him flayed alive. Hung, drawn and quartered, banished to the Pit, everything he can think of! I've never seen him like this before! He's out for blood and I don't think he cares whose."

     "The same man?" asked Thomas, fingering his chin where the intruder had struck him.

     "He fits the description," replied Tassley, "and he was dressed the same; naked except for a lab robe. They caught him this time, briefly."

     "Briefly?" asked Karem.

     "He got away again. They locked him up in a magic proof cell. Solid stone walls except for a massive iron door, all heavily impregnated with anti-magic. When they went back to interview him, he was gone! Vanished without a trace!”

     “That’s impossible!” declared Thomas flatly.

     “Well, that’s what I thought,” replied the girl, “but I overheard a couple of them talking about it, and apparently something like this happened once before, years back. A wizard was being held in a magic proof cell and an accomplice busted him out by shoving a transdimensional portal into the room by sheer brute force.”

     “Is that possible?” asked Edward in amazement. “But if the saboteur had an accomplice that powerful…”

     “Yeah, he could have just blown up Artur’s lab with magic spells,” agreed Tassley. “Doesn’t make sense.”

     "Was the door still closed and locked when they found him gone?" asked Thomas.

     "I don't know all the details," replied Tassley. "I just heard some guys talking about it outside. Now they're talking about posting a proctor in every laboratory until this guy's caught permanently. The whole University's in turmoil because of it!"

     "I'm not surprised," said Edward. "I'd be angry if someone deliberately destroyed something I'd been working on for months. I wouldn't like to be in his shoes when they finally catch up with him. Do you know what they do to people who do things like that?"

     "Demagestration," said Karem coldly. "The permanent and irrevocable removal of the ability to use magic. A fate worse than death to a wizard."

     "We still don’t know he’s a wizard," pointed out Thomas. "Neither time did he use any kind of magic to cause the destruction, and probably not to escape again. What if he's just a very, very clever man?"

     "Then he won't be quite so clever when they get their hands on him." said Karem. "They'll curse him in some way. Lower his intelligence, maybe, or compel him to scream obscenities at everyone he meets. I've seen it done before. A few years ago, a member of the divination staff, chap called Scaller, got very friendly with the wife of one of the cooks. When the cook found out he stormed round to the man's rooms to beat him up, which would have been fair enough. The man deserved a beating, and any wizard who can't defend himself against a mundane deserves everything he gets. The proctors would probably have treated the matter lightly, no matter which of them came out on top. As it happened, though, the wizard wasn't at home, so the cook got even with him by burning all his spellbooks."

     The other wizards gasped in horror. No wizard could contemplate the destruction of a spellbook without a feeling of great distress and outrage, and all three of the other wizards involuntarily looked around at where they'd left their own spellbooks, making sure they were safe. "What happened to him?" whispered Tassley softly.

     "They put a terrible curse on him, making him hideously ugly and incapable of holding onto any possessions except the clothes on his back. Then they teleported him into the slums of Mala. The fellow has to beg for his food now. He depends for his survival on the mercy and charity of the worst collection of thieves, misfits and cutthroats in the world."

     "Serves the bastard right," said Edward emphatically. "What about his wife?"

     "Last I heard, she and Scaller were still living happily together. They say she never even thinks about her ex husband any more, and I can't say I blame her. She's well shot of him, that's what I think."

     "Absolutely!" agreed Edward. "You touch a wizard's spellbook, you pay the price! That's a lesson the whole world needs to learn!"

     The door opened and Pondar stalked in, his face still clouded with anger. Tassley paled with fear and jumped down, trying to look busy, helping the others measure out the powdered plant extract into the test tubes, but the senior wizard had already fixed her with his glittering sharp eyes and beckoned for her to come stand before him.

     "This is a magna fruit," he said, producing something that looked like a large purple melon from his robes. "It needs peeling and slicing with a silver knife. Each slice must be no more than an eighth of an inch thick. Then fry them over an open fire for precisely ten minutes while casting a Wyrdwand spell over them. See to it, and then bring them to the laboratory on a silver tray together with a goblet of freshly boiled water. And no gloves! Is that clear?"

     "Yes, master," replied Tassley unhappily. Wizards almost never wore gloves as they hindered the dexterity required for fine work, but without gloves the flesh of the fruit would leave her hands stained purple for days afterwards. In other circumstances, therefore, Pondar might have let her wear gloves for this. She wouldn't let him catch her idle again. She took the fruit to the other end of the bench and fetched a silver knife from the rack of cutting tools while Pondar cast a warning glance over the other three wizards. Then he turned back to the door.

     "Master," said Thomas before the door closed. "Is it true that the intruder's struck again?"

     Pondar Walton paused and turned back, fixing him with a critical eye. "That is not your concern," he said coldly. "Get on with your work and leave the intruder to the proctors." Then he left without looking back, closing the door behind him with just enough more force than was really necessary to demonstrate his anger and unhappiness.

     "Is he like that all the time?" asked Thomas. "Does he ever cheer up?"

     "Occasionally," replied Karem, "when things are going well for him. He has been known to be quite pleasant on occasion, but it'll be some time before you see him like that. His bad moods last for ages. Take my advice and do nothing to get on his wrong side. I can tell you from long experience that he's a lot angrier on the inside than he shows on the outside, and if you upset him he'll dump the whole lot of it right on your head. You really do not want that to happen to you."

     "He'll get over it," replied Edward. "He'll cheer up as soon as he gets back into his work."

     "I hope so," Karem replied. "Life's going to be a misery for all of us so long as he's like this."

     "Well, just because he's in a mood doesn't mean we have to be," said Thomas without pausing in his work. "Let's talk about something more pleasant."

     "Good idea," said Edward with a grin. "Let's talk about the play. They say they're still looking to fill some of the roles. Either of you ever do any acting?"

     "What play?" asked Thomas.

     "Kama Skallin, one of the scribe librarians, is doing a dramatisation of the Quest for the Sceptre of Samnos, to be performed by some of the junior wizards in the Great Hall on midsummer's day. Everyone's talking about it."

     "The Quest for the Sceptre of Samnos?" said Thomas in surprise, pausing in the act of reaching for a test tube. "I suppose they're doing the version in which Resalintas gets it, are they?"

     "What do you mean, that version?" asked Edward. "That's the way it happened, isn't it?"

     Thomas began to speak but stopped himself. Would there really be any point in telling them the truth? They'd probably just think he was pulling their legs. And if he could prove he was telling the truth he would become an instant celebrity, never again to get any peace or privacy. Not only him, but Lenny and Derry as well. Did they really want that kind of attention? He began to think that Elmias was right. The quiet life was best.

    "Yes, of course," he said therefore. "I just meant that he didn't do it all by himself, that's all."

     "Well, of course not," agreed Edward. "He was a member of a team of assorted individuals. Half a dozen I think. And one of them was a wizard."

     "Three of them were wizards," corrected Thomas. "A human, a de... I mean a shae girl and a nome. There were also two Beltharan soldiers and a cleric of Caroli."

     "You know a lot," said Tassley, looking up from her messy work. Her fingers were already spotted with purple smears and she'd hardly started.

     "Yes, I met some of them in Fort Battleaxe, during the siege. I met Resalintas himself a couple of times."

     "You didn't!" cried the girl in excitement. "Really? What was he like?"

     "Terrifying," said Thomas, shuddering at the memory. "His eyes could bore into you like trog drills through sandstone. He could look at you, and you knew that he could see into your very soul, that he knew everything you'd ever done. Every secret, every shameful act. Just being under his gaze made you want to babble like an idiot, begging forgiveness for every sin you'd even committed. There was hardly a man in all Belthar who could meet him eye to eye. Everyone was terrified of him, but he could command loyalty like no other man who ever lived.”

     He looked up, and saw the others all staring at him. “Just knowing that he was there with us gave us the strength to carry on when all seemed lost. Without him, I really don't think the city could have held out as long as it did, and I'm not just talking about his fighting ability, although the Gods know that was one hell of a contributing factor. But when he was there beside you, men who were almost too weak to stand suddenly found the strength to fight back and repel another enemy push. The Shadowsoldiers knew him as well, and hundreds of them would run the moment he appeared on the battlefield. Only their most powerful wizards would dare to face him." He paused and met the stares of the others one at a time. "He was incredible! There'll never be another like him, you can be sure of that."

     "You know," said Edward, "you ought to go have a word with Kama. I'm sure she'd value the input of someone who actually knew him. You could be of great value to the play."

     Thomas grinned at the irony of it. "You know, I might just do that," he agreed. "I'll ask Lenny if she wants to come as well. She knew him as well as I did, and the others, of course."

     "Yes, tell us about the others," said Tassley eagerly. "What were they like?"

     "Well, the one I knew best was the human wizard," said Thomas, furrowing his brow as if struggling to remember. "Devilishly handsome. Witty, intelligent. Mind like a steel trap. A giant in the magical arts with the body of a bronze god. He only had to snap his fingers and he'd have girls throwing themselves at his feet, but at the same time he was as wise as the most ancient sage. Resalintas depended heavily upon his advice and assistance. He said on more than one occasion that he'd never have succeeded in recovering the Sceptre without him. There was one occasion I remember..."

     Suddenly the door opened and Pondar stalked back in, startling them all. They went hurriedly back to their work, trying to look busy, expecting to be reprimanded again, but the senior wizard seemed to be too preoccupied with something to notice their deplorable slackness. "Gown," he snapped, reaching into a pocket to produce a folded sheet of stiff paper sealed with a large lump of wax. "Take this to Saturn Vasil Mon-Morchov in the Dannil Starfinder building. Right now, if you please."

     "Yes, master," replied Thomas, taking the paper. He made to leave, but paused at the door for a moment to look back. Pondar was taking Karem aside to tell him something while Edward and Tassley kept hard at work, desperately trying to avoid further notice. Thomas slipped away, glad for the opportunity to get away from the senior wizard for a while, shaking his head in wonder. He'd never thought he was going to be working for a laughing party guy, but he'd at least hoped his master would be a man he could talk with. Form some kind of a relationship with. He wasn't going to learn much if it was going to be like this all the time.