But right now it was dormant and the place he had to be was here. He leaned over and kissed Pheone's sleeping face before jumping out of bed on to the cold stone floor, grabbing green breeches and rough woollen work shirt. He pulled on a pair of sturdy calf-length boots, pushed his hands through his ruffled hair and, hunger building, walked out into the passage, heading for the refectory which lay across the courtyard.
Outside, the day was fresh and warming. Dawn was an hour gone and he glanced at the work being done on the library roof and to a new structure whose foundations had been laid over the last seven days. As he always did, Ilkar paused for a while at the hole in which the Heart lay, contemplating their greatest remaining task.
One day, it would see light again and the bodies of those entombed within, including Barras, the last elven negotiator, could
be paid proper respect. He mouthed a short prayer that the Gods would deliver him the tools to do the job.
'Ilkar!' He spun at the sound of his name, recognising the voice instantly. Its owner came through the gap that had been the north gate, leading his horse, and behind him, a second sight that gladdened Ilkar's heart still more.
'Denser!' He strode towards the gate. 'Gods, they'll let anyone in here these days.'
'Sorry. I thought I had the freedom of the place after last time I was here.'
'That you do.' The two old friends embraced. 'Let's look at you.' Ilkar stepped back and took in Denser's face. 'A bit dusty, perhaps. And certainly a touch of grey here and there. Oh, and you need a haircut. But still recognisable.' He shook his head. 'It's great to see you. You've brought your hammer and chisel, I hope.'
Denser smiled. 'Sorry, never did go in for it much. I brought my pipe, though.'
'And I've missed its rank stench.' Ilkar patted him on the upper arm and looked past him. 'Hey, Unknown, it's been a while.' Ilkar tried to keep a smile on his face but seeing these two men riding through his College gates together could only mean one thing. Something bad, probably very bad, had happened.
The Unknown walked over and shook his hand warmly, his grip, as ever, crushing.
'Too long,' he said.
'So.' Ilkar returned his attention to Denser. The Xeteskian was tired despite the hour of the morning and seemed solemn. 'How's Erienne and Lyanna?'
Pain flashed in Denser's eyes and his brows pinched slightly. Instead of answering, he looked to The Unknown for help.
'That's what brings us here,' said the Big Man.
Ilkar nodded, his suspicion confirmed. 'Oh I see. Are you hungry? We could talk over breakfast.'
The refectory was a long, low building set with a series of bench tables. It was quietening with most of the mages and paid workers already on site. Ilkar indicated a corner table and while the travellers made themselves comfortable, he went to the servery and packed a long wooden tray with bacon, bread and a large jug of coffee.
'Here,' he said as he sat. 'Help yourselves. There's more if you need it.'
While they ate, Denser talked of Lyanna's progress and her nightmares, of Dordover's obstructive Quorum, and of the disappearance of both Erienne and their daughter. Finally, he passed Ilkar the letter, which the elf read in silence, frown deepening with almost every line. He passed it back after he'd read it twice and refilled all their mugs.
'If they find them first, they'll kill them,' said Denser.
'Who will?' asked Ilkar.
'The Dordovans. Don't you see?'
'That's a little extreme, don't you think? There's more to it than simple conspiracy. There's potential risk to all Balaian magic systems.'
'Don't you start,' said Denser. 'Lyanna is the future for all of us, not our death and destruction. The Dordovans are just scared. All they need is education. No one is talking about an enforced return to the One Way, for God's sake. No one alive is capable of practising it.'
'Except Lyanna.'
Denser shrugged. 'Yeah, except Lyanna. Possibly. Look, Ilkar, Vuldaroq is not interested in any multidisciplined mage being nurtured by anyone. He told me Balaia didn't want another Septern. That's why, if he can't control her, he'll kill her.'
'So you want to find them?' said Ilkar.
'No, I want to offer them up to Dordover, chained to sacrificial altars,' replied Denser.
'Just checking you hadn't completely lost your sense of humour.'
'Of course I want to find them.'
'And do what, exactly?' asked Ilkar. 'And that's a serious question.'
Denser regarded him as if he were an imbecile.
'Ilkar, they are my family. I have to protect them.'
T think we both understand that,' said The Unknown. He put down the sandwich he had made but not eaten while he'd listened, and leant forward. Ilkar had to smile; he'd lost none of his instant authority. 'But you have been depicting the might of Dordovan magic lined up against us. What do you hope to achieve?'
'A warning, if it's needed. Organisation too. Erienne and Lyanna are already well protected, I know it. But we can help. We even the odds.'
'Who?'asked Ilkar.
'The Raven.'
Ilkar took a long draw on his coffee, feeling the strong bitter taste flood down his throat. He'd known his fate the moment he'd seen The Unknown and Denser come through his gate together. Whatever The Raven could do, he had to help. Futile, possibly. Deadly, probably, if Lyanna and Erienne were in the hands of the power Denser thought they were. But whatever, he had to make sure they understood what they were up against.
'Denser, there's something you need to know.'
'Go on. I feel sure it won't be to my advantage.'
'We've been seeing random mana activity in the sky. Lightning, flaring, showers, that sort of thing. Not a lot but definitely odd. We got talking about it a few days ago. Have you heard of the Tinjata Prophecy?'
Denser shook his head.
'Didn't think so. Neither had I, though perhaps you should have done. Haven't you researched the Sundering at all?'
'Not really,' said Denser. 'Beyond conditions for producing a child with the correct potential and those are well enough documented in Xetesk, I don't think Erienne even disturbed the dust in the open vaults. Who was this Tinjata, then?'
'Well Erienne should certainly have heard of him. He was the first High Elder mage of Dordover.'
'She probably has,' said Denser. 'But she hasn't told me about him.'
'Never mind. We'll ask her when we find her. The point is that Tinjata was instrumental in the Sundering and culpable in a number of horrific actions against mages of the One, the Al-Drechar. He formulated a prophecy based on some kind of extrapolation of mana theory and dimensional connectivity – the roots are long gone – and he posted it as a warning to all who believed in the continuation of the four-College structure.'
'How do you know all this?' Denser was frowning.
'I asked around. Do you remember Therus? He helped you in the
library during the siege? Well, he survived. He's an ancient writings archivist and the time around the Sundering is an area of particular specialisation for him. And that includes the Tinjata Prophecy.'
'And?' Denser beckoned Ilkar to speak it.
'Right. Well, Therus' knowledge is incomplete because the Dor-dovans would never let him into their library but the summary is enough. 'When the Innocent rides the elements, and the land lies flat and riven; the Sundering shall be undone and from the chaos shall rise the One, never again to fall.' Pretty clear, don't you think?' Ilkar felt his heart beating as he spoke the words, finding it impossible to imagine Lyanna, a child he had never seen, presiding over the destruction of Balaia. The idea was frankly ludicrous.
Denser and The Unknown were quiet. The big man finished his sandwich while he thought, the Xeteskian's brows arrowed in as he digested Ilkar's words.
'And that's what Therus thinks your lightning flashes are all about, does he?' asked Denser. 'My child being
