enemy of the Archmage. There is quite a decent price on his head.’
‘The Archmage would do
‘Certainly,’ Tulan replied. ‘And often has. The Order has its own secret members who do all the Archmage’s dirty work; hired killers, thieves, assassins-even magicians.’
‘People like Ash,’ Samuel noted sourly.
Tulan nodded. ‘Exactly, and much worse.’
‘I’m sure he will come,’ Samuel asserted. ‘The Grand Master would jump at the chance to stop this war.’
‘As you say,’ Tulan responded. ‘I will try to get word to him, but I do not know him as well as you do. He will either come or he won’t. I guess it’s up to him.’
‘But we should search the Great Library in the meantime. The chances are slim, but we may find something useful there. Any information on the relic could prove useful.’
‘If we can get word to Eric Pot, he can go there without raising suspicions,’ Goodfellow suggested.
‘Your friend?’ Tulan asked. ‘Yes, that will have to do. I will send word to him at once.’
‘With your green-capped friend?’ Goodfellow enquired.
‘That’s right. He’s quite the useful sort.’
‘You seem to have some secrets of your own, Lord Goodwin,’ Samuel noted. ‘Perhaps, one day, you will have to explain all your secretive associates and safehouses to us.’
‘Perhaps,’ Tulan replied, ‘but not too soon. When this is all done. Now we have much to do. I will send further word when it is safe to meet again. Let us hope we have some time before the relic can be used. We must stop this war at all costs.’ He looked grim at the thought. ‘Otherwise many good lives will be lost.’
With that, they bade each other goodbye and Tulan slipped out the door.
‘Lord Goodwin seems to be an interesting fellow,’ Goodfellow noted.
‘So I am beginning to learn,’ Samuel replied, ‘but also I trust him. I trust him like a brother.’
And they waited in their tiny hideaway, with little else to do but talk as the hours passed slowly by.
Samuel soon grew restless. He dared not practise his spells for fear of being discovered and so he resigned himself to sitting with Goodfellow in the tiny room, and jotting down his thoughts and ideas about the Argum Stone. Often he thought of the Downs and the wonderfully simple life he had lived there in far Tindal. If only he was there still, safe and perfectly happy. Leila’s death had put an end to all that, of course. That life had died with her, but at least he would see her death avenged.
The next day came and went without any word from Tulan or Eric and Samuel declared that he could wait no longer. The confinement of the tiny safehouse was becoming torture.
Goodfellow gave him a critical stare. ‘It would be more sensible to stay here, Samuel. The others are competent. Going outside only brings opportunity for disaster.’
Samuel stamped around the room, thumping the rickety, old table with his fist. ‘I can’t sit here and do nothing! At any moment, Ash could unlock the power of the Argum Stone and we’re sitting here idle!’
Goodfellow stood slowly and faced his impatient friend. He brushed the hair from his own eyes before placing his hands firmly on Samuel’s shoulders. ‘Listen. What can you do? What can you possibly do that the others aren’t doing already? I’m sure Eric or Master Glim will contact us when we are needed. Listen to reason. If you are caught again, everything is lost.’
‘If there’s a slim chance, I have to take it,’ Samuel said, ‘or else I’ll go crazy waiting in here.’
‘Very well,’ Goodfellow said, giving in and sitting back down at the rickety table and returning his gaze to his writings. ‘It’s your choice. Just be careful and try to be back before the others find out.’
The hooded mage strode across the school grounds, rubbing his hands together briskly in the mist, with puffs of vapour streaming from his mouth with each breath. The night was freezing cold, and so it was not surprising for this magician to head directly for the Great Library, head down in solemn thought. It was not considered unusual for a mage, awoken by some sudden nagging puzzlement or notion, to pursue his curiosity at such an hour. Magicians were considered quite peculiar by common folk. Many were considered peculiar by each other. It came from years of questioning existence and the universe, from bending the common laws of nature with the mere will and, as some said, living with only the company of other such-minded men.
The mage lifted a sleeved arm to the great doors, pushed one open and stepped in. Once again, the school grounds were dark, cold and empty.
Samuel closed the large door behind him, glad to put an end to the cold wind that was blowing outside. He turned his attention towards the rows of shelves. No one was visible, but the fact that many lamps were still lit, meant that someone else was probably still here, reading quietly in some dim aisle. He went directly for the cellar stairs and each old wooden step groaned as it begrudgingly took his weight. Somewhere above, in the perfect quiet, a page turned and a nose sniffed. Such sounds had a strange way of carrying in the old library, especially in the dead of night.
It was midnight-black and as cold as a mountain river down in the cellar. A bluish sphere of light bloomed into life above Samuel’s shoulder and he glared at it, still rubbing his palms together for warmth, until it became a yellow-white hue more suitable for reading. Many magicians could not seem to maintain a spell and concentrate on their research as well, and so the pillars were periodically lined with shelves for the placing of lanterns. Samuel was no common magician and such a task was simple for him. Then again, even the most agile of acrobats sometimes stumble. Samuel tried momentarily to warm himself with a spell, but the skill, as basic as it was, eluded him-he blamed his nerves. Instead, Samuel pulled his robes tighter and began down the nearest aisle.
He made for the furthest recesses of the cellar, where shelves of untitled articles stretched up towards the ceiling. He calculated that here, among these thousands of various notes, crumpled papers and coverless books, he might find something of what he sought-some hint of the Lick of the Ancients or some unfound secrets of the Argum Stone.
Samuel estimated that it must be nearly dawn and he had still not found one scrap of useful information. He had scoured many aisles and countless recesses, looking high atop shelves and into narrow crannies and behind massive leather-bound journals, but could find nothing even remotely applicable to their cause. In the past, he would have found some articles intriguing, but now, he had no time to enjoy them and returned each unwanted piece quickly to its place.
As he rubbed his sore eyes and the sphere of light waned above his head, Samuel decided enough was enough. It was time to get some sleep.
The sound of the huge doors booming shut echoed like thunder from above, followed by the voices of several men. He let his mage-light vanish and made through the darkness for the small shard of light that shone down the stairs from above. He carefully climbed the creaking wood and spied two old men standing there, chatting idly. Samuel knew their faces, but their names evaded him for the time being. They had their backs to him as they began wandering between the shelves with lanterns in their hands.
Taking his opportunity to depart, Samuel tiptoed to the great doors, tugged one open, and stepped once again outside. He rubbed his weary eyes and peered towards the morning sun, creeping up above the rooftops to the far east. The early morning sounds of the city were washing over the walls, along with the crows of roosters and the barking of dogs. Several magicians were already strolling across the grounds, coughing and hugging their clothes about themselves and Samuel remembered his own hood, quickly pulling it up over his head.
He started for the school gates, glancing left and right for anyone who may recognise him, but there was no one. The city streets outside were quickly filling with all kinds-merchants and tradesmen, farmers and children, beggars and thieves…all kinds. He wove between them all deftly, his mind still set on the matter of the books. It seemed that Goodfellow had been correct. His search had been fruitless, but at least he now felt better for trying. It seemed any books with even the slightest mention of the Ancients had been removed from the Great Library, but it did give Samuel the beginnings of an idea. The books were not in the Great Library, but they must be somewhere. The key to awakening the Argum Stone could lie in any one of those books, so for Ash to learn those secrets, he
