He pushed his head against the bars once more. There was little else to do up here, except peer out the window as far as was possible. People were still skittering around down below, but there was nothing that hinted at an imminent rescue.
The solitude of the Mage Cell chilled his heart. For his second time within it, he felt no better. In fact, the longer he was held away from the touch of magic, the smaller and colder he felt. Samuel turned away from the window and stalked around the small square cell, rubbing at his forehead in frustration.
He had barely turned away, when a grunt from the window caught his attention and a man’s legs suddenly dropped into view outside the bars.
Samuel pressed his face against the bars and gawked at the tall man swinging around outside. ‘Lomar?’ Samuel said, peering between the bars. ‘When did you learn to fly?’
‘I didn’t,’ Lomar grunted, his face now visible beyond the bars, creased with effort. ‘I’m on a rope-and it’s cutting me in half!’
‘What are you doing out there?’ Samuel asked incredulously.
‘Trying to set you free…and trying not to kill myself in the process!’
‘How, may I ask?’ Master Glim questioned, coming to stand beside Samuel.
‘Spells work perfectly fine out here,’ Lomar explained. ‘Once I get you out, you will be able to spell as much as you please. Now, if you will.’
‘Step back,’ Master Glim urged as Lomar began a spell.
Samuel did as instructed, while Lomar began to concentrate his energy upon the cell window. His spell took hold of the bars, which began twisting and turning as the magic did its work. Flecks of mortar began popping into the air and, one by one, each bar groaned and snapped and clunked onto the floor with a resounding clang.
‘Not bad,’ Master Glim noted, examining the cleared window. The stubs of the bars were hot to the touch and Master Glim’s finger hissed as he tested one. ‘
‘Come now!’ Lomar urged with a grunt as he struggled with his makeshift harness. ‘Get out of there before I fall to my death.’
Samuel was first into action. He pushed his head out the window and observed the ground far below. It was distressingly far to the ground and he felt his heart lurch in his chest. He gulped and closed his eyes a moment, trying hard to calm himself.
‘Master Pot and Master Goodfellow are assisting me,’ Lomar noted, ‘but my poor stomach can only take so much. Try to hurry along!’
‘Can it hold both of us?’ Samuel asked.
‘It may,’ Lomar responded. ‘But I do not think that the Erics can. They can only take our combined weight for a moment-long enough for you to get out of the cell and cast yourself a spell. I hope you have something suitable ready.’
Samuel nodded. He reached out and grabbed the rope just above Lomar’s head, and pulled himself slowly out. Despite his efforts, they both began to swing around and worried shouts of distress sounded from above.
‘Quickly, Samuel!’ Lomar urged frantically, as they slowly spun in the same place.
Samuel felt helpless as he clung to the rough rope for all he was worth. A long fall awaited him should he slip and the dizzying heights made him all the more giddy. It did not even seem a particularly sturdy rope, all coarse and fraying. Magicians often lacked the more practical skills in life, Samuel quickly noted, such as being able to choose a decent rope and a more effective way of fixing it to Lomar, who looked to be in great discomfort.
Samuel could feel his energy returning and the giddiness from the height was replaced with excitement as his magic returned to him.
‘Samuel!’ Lomar hissed.
Samuel remembered himself and quickly cast out a spell. He pushed his feet out against the tower wall and then his hands followed, so that he clung to the side of the tower like a spider. He still felt nervous, hanging so far above the ground, but a smile lit his face as he enjoyed the taste of magic again.
It was then Master Glim’s turn and he, too, popped his head out the window. He raised an eyebrow as he surveyed the ground far below. People were still busy down in the palace grounds but, so far, none seemed to have noticed them. Master Glim sucked his bottom lip, no doubt imagining what would happen should he fall.
‘Master Glim,’ Lomar urged. ‘Hurry! My stomach can’t take much more of this!’
In a moment, Master Glim had mustered his own skills and was out beside Samuel. The man looked terrified as he clung to the wall, squeezing his eyes tightly shut. Samuel examined his teacher’s spell. It was not really so great in strength, but quite a mastery of efficiency.
‘You two look like a couple of overgrown butterflies,’ Lomar remarked with a grin, referring to their brightly coloured tunics.
Samuel made a sour face. ‘You don’t like my tunic? It’s very popular with some.’
‘Yes,’ Master Glim agreed, ‘-with women! It was all his idea. Little good it did us.’
Lomar started to laugh and then coughed. His face was turning bright red.
‘Down?’ Samuel asked him, looking far below.
‘Up! Up! Up!’ Lomar exclaimed excitedly and began quickly tugging on the rope.
With a jerk from above, he began to rise, bumping and banging into the wall, grunting and muttering each time. Samuel took one last look inside the Mage Cell. He hoped he never saw its insides again. Nothing had made him feel that terrible for a long time-not since he had lost Leila. It was a different kind of feeling, but it filled him with the same strange despair and hopelessness.
‘Samuel,’ Master Glim said, ‘can you set one of your illusions inside? We don’t want to be missed.’
It took a moment to become calm enough to cast another spell; then Samuel formed an illusion of himself and Master Glim, and set them in the cell. Thankfully, the spell held true and the two images sat quietly beside each other on the floor. Samuel grinned. Turning right side up, he followed Master Glim and the grunting Lomar up the tower’s side.
‘You should try our way,’ Samuel suggested to his lean friend.
‘No, thank you,’ Lomar said. ‘I would not like to see what would happen if you sneezed and forgot your spell, or a mage below noticed you and negated it. Despite the discomfort, this rope is doing me fine.’
‘That’s true,’ Samuel said, with a sudden uncomfortable realisation, and he quickened his pace up the wall.
Samuel leapt over the top of the tower and landed beside a surprised Eric Pot and Eric Goodfellow, both straining with the remains of a long coil of rope.
‘Samuel!’ they exclaimed together.
Master Glim followed him over and then an exceedingly bruised and buffeted Lomar clawed his way over the tall stones. The two Erics collapsed with relief as his weight finally left their hands. Their faces were red and their gloveless hands were raw and blistered. Samuel shook his head at them once more.
‘What has happened?’ Samuel asked.
‘The ceremony is due to begin within the very hour,’ Goodfellow answered. ‘Empress Lillith has vanished and General Ruardin has his men in a frenzy searching for her. The city folk don’t yet know about her disappearance, but when they find out the city will fall into a state of turmoil!’
‘What has happened to Grand Master Anthem?’ Master Glim asked.
‘He’s also nowhere to be found,’ Eric explained. The wind was stronger up here and it tugged at their clothes and whistled amongst the tower-top stones. ‘As we guessed, Rimus has somehow removed the Grand Master from the scene and we fear for the worst for him. We have been blamed for everything!’
Samuel shivered in his thin tunic as it flapped and stuck to his skin. ‘So everyone who could possibly stop him is out of his way, except for us. What about Ash?’ he asked.
‘He still hasn’t been seen,’ Eric responded. ‘We have to be very careful who we speak to in the Order. Nobody knows whom to trust any more.’
‘We’ll discuss it downstairs,’ Master Glim said, himself shivering. ‘It’s a little too open here and far too windy for my liking.’
They all agreed and Eric lifted the heavy trapdoor and they descended into the tower.
They crept down the first narrow flight of stairs, past the door to the Archmage’s chambers. The other upper levels seemed deserted, but they grew more and more cautious as they descended. As they passed the level of the
