None of the Tharians knew anything about the principles upon which the silver ships operated, so they were given fetching and carrying jobs, thereby allowing the felisians to spend all their time doing the technical work. They were cannibalising one of the other ships to obtain spare parts, and there were more parts stored in the Masters' headquarters, and about an hour before sundown one of the felisians took Thomas and Matthew to the building of silver metal to help him carry back something he called a plasma pump.

     There was indeed a back entrance to the building, as Jop Sonno had suggested, and the felisian, whose name was Lun Wasker, led then in and along sharp cornered metal corridors towards what seemed to have been a workroom of some kind. Strange metal devices of all descriptions littered the floor and every available surface; some small like marbles or spiky metal jacks, others so large that it would have taken a dozen men to lift them. They saw a row of half a dozen identical devices that looked a little like legless horses, and the felisian joked that if they'd still been working they could have explored the planet in style, a comment that left the Tharians baffled.

     "Here's what we want," said Lun Wasker, striding across to a table and running a hairy, clawed hand lovingly across a half melted looking lump of metal bearing regular openings and markings. It was about a foot wide and looked heavy, and indeed when Thomas tried to lift it he could only raise one side of it a couple of inches off the table. Lun laughed. "Why do you think I brought two of you? Be careful, though. It's an awkward shape to get hold of. Whatever you do, don't drop it. I don't think it would be damaged, but why take chances?"

     Matthew took one end of it, testing its weight. "It's not that heavy," he said, lifting it clear off the table, but then the smooth metal slipped through his fingers and he was only just able to lower it gently again before it slipped out of his grasp altogether. "I see what you mean," he said with a sheepish grin as the felisian winced with horror. "Take the other end of this, will you, Tom?"

     The wizard moved in to comply, but then he stopped, gazing off into the distance with a thoughtful look on his face.

     "What is it?" asked the soldier. "Tom?"

     Thomas said nothing but moved slowly away, the plasma pump forgotten. Moving as if sleepwalking, but with a look of intent concentration on his face. Matthew moved to stand beside him, growing increasingly worried. "Tom? What is it?"

     "There's something here," said the wizard distractedly. "I can sense..." He turned to stare at his friend. "I can sense magic! There's magic somewhere in here!" He moved closer to the wall until he was right up against the cluttered bench that stood against it. "No, not in here," he amended. "In there. On the other side of this wall." He trotted out of the room, looking for the entrance to the next room, Matthew and Lun Wasker running to keep up with him.

     He found a likely door further down the corridor, but it was locked. "We've never been in there," said the felisian. "We thought it was just another office or something."

     Thomas ignored him, however, and cast a spell to pick the lock. A moment later he was able to push the door slowly open against the protesting squeals of its rusty hinges.

     It was indeed an office of some kind, but belonging to several people who'd worked together, sharing resources and comparing notes. The furniture was more or less human in general shape and style, but the size of it made Thomas feel like a pygmy.

     Sitting in one of the chairs was the mummified corpse of a huge humanoid creature, its skin thick, hairless and rubbery like the hide of a hippo, still strong and elastic even after centuries of death. It must have stood eight or nine feet tall when alive and was massively muscular. Each of its arms was as thick around as the torso of a man and its thick, stubby fingers looked as though they'd been easily capable of crushing a man's head.

     The eyes were open but the eyeballs were sunken and dried out, leaving gaping sockets, but they were still the most human looking part of the face. The wide, lipless mouth that reached halfway around the head was partly open, revealing flat, even teeth, suggesting a vegetarian diet, but Thomas reminded himself that bulls were also vegetarian and he wouldn't have wanted to be standing in a field with one. The creature had no nose, merely two nostril slits in the flat expanse between mouth and eyes, and it didn't seem to have any ears either. Not even the openings in the sides of its bald, liver spotted head. The head of an old man.

     Lun Wasker froze in terror, staring at the huge corpse. He seemed to be literally paralysed with fear, but at the same time his hands were changing, becoming the claws of a great cat, and his teeth were lengthening, the jaws becoming weapons capable of tearing a man's throat out. His eyes became vicious yellow slits and hair grew across his face. He wasn't a full metamorph. He lacked the ability to fully assume the form of a cat, but the changes he was capable of were enough to make Matthew and Thomas back nervously away from him.

     "It's dead," said the soldier reassuringly. "Long dead. It can't hurt you."

     "Is it a Master?" asked Thomas, feeling the question to be completely unnecessary.

     The felisian nodded his confirmation. "The ssscourge of my race," he hissed, his voice cold with hatred. "The rapisssts of my world! The Commander mussst know of this!" He fled from the room, and the Tharians heard the hiss of his passage through the undergrowth as he sped across the landing field.

     "So that's what they look like," said Matthew, moving closer to the giant corpse. "You wouldn't want to meet one of them on a dark night."

     "They said their hides were almost impervious to their weapons," said Thomas in open admiration. "Even in their giant cat forms, their teeth and claws couldn't even scratch them. I wonder whether a sword could penetrate that hide of theirs?" Something else was demanding his attention, however. The thing that had brought them here in the first place. He reluctantly moved away from the corpse to try to track it down.

     He found a glass cabinet on the other side of the room, the glass so dusty and covered with layer upon layer of thick cobwebs that it hid the contents like a curtain. When he'd rubbed a patch clean with his sleeve he saw that the shelves were filled with ancient looking items that seemed to come from several different cultures, each with a little plaque above it bearing a few words of alien text. A display cabinet, or perhaps a trophy cabinet. Thomas spotted a human child's toy almost identical to one he'd found in the ruined Veglian city as well as a couple of items he'd seen a few weeks before in the ring above. The private collection of the commander of this station, Thomas guessed. Trophies collected from two dozen worlds, all probably places he'd visited during the course of his career.

     One item in particular caught his attention, though. A small object on the second shelf down. A gold bracelet shaped like a girdle of autumn leaves, each vein shaped with exquisite care and skill. It was radiating magic. Very faintly after all these centuries. Most of its magical charge had long since faded so that it was unlikely it still did whatever it had been designed to do, but the residual charge was unmistakable. Could it be something from Tharia? Had the Masters visited his own world? There was something about its magical charge, though. Different from every other magical item he'd ever come across while at the same time familiar. He'd sensed magic like this before. Just once...

     Trembling with excitement, he searched the cabinet for a way to open it and found a small catch on the side. The glass door creaked open and the wizard reached inside with shaking hands, picking up the bracelet and holding it up to his eye to examine it better. Yes, now that he had it in his hands the feeling was unmistakable.

     "Mat!" he gasped, turning to face the soldier. "Mat! We've found it! We've found it at last!"

     "Found what?" demanded Saturn, striding in with Tager Yee and Drenn Pietar. "What's that?"

     Thomas handed it over, grinning all over his face. The elder wizard scowled at his younger colleague's delight, then looked at the object he'd handed him. "Pretty," he admitted, "but I don't see..."

     "It's magical!" cried Thomas, almost dancing with excitement. "Very faint, but it's there. This was made by a wizard!"

     "I sense no magical charge," said Saturn in annoyance, but then his single eye widened.

     Thomas nodded excitedly. "Rossemian magic!" he cried. "There's no mistake. This object was made by the Shipbuilders!"

     Saturn stared at him, then looked down again at the bracelet in his hands, his face brightening in a quite uncharacteristic jubilation and excitement.