toward the wall. ‘I’ve never seen it so strange around here. Not even when the Dark Brotherhood and the goblins attacked back when we were little, remember?’
Pug nodded, silent for a moment, then said, ‘We knew what we were facing then. The dark elves have been attacking castles on and off as far back as anyone can remember. And goblins . . . well, they’re goblins.’
They sat in silence for a long time; then the sound of boots on the pavement announced someone coming. Swordmaster Fannon, in chain mail and tabard, halted before them. ‘What? Up so late? You should both be abed.’ The old fighter turned to survey the castle walls. ‘There are many who find themselves unable to sleep this night.’ He turned his attention back to the boys. ‘Tomas, a soldier needs to learn the knack of taking sleep whenever he can find it, for there are many long days when there is none. And you, Squire Pug, should be asleep as well. Now, why don’t you try to rest yourselves?’
The boys nodded, bade the Swordmaster good night, and left. The grey-haired commander of the Duke’s guard watched them go and stood quietly in the little garden for a time, alone with his own disquieting thoughts.
Pug was awakened by the sound of footsteps passing his door. He quickly pulled on trousers and tunic and hurried up the steps to Kulgan’s room. Passing the hastily replaced door, he found the Duke and Father Tully standing over Kulgan’s sleeping pallet. Pug heard his master’s voice, sounding feeble, as he complained about being kept abed. ‘I tell you, I’m fine,’ Kulgan insisted. ‘Just let me walk about a bit, and I’ll be back to normal in no time.’
Tully, still sounding weary, said, ‘Back on your back, you mean. You sustained a nasty jolt, Kulgan. Whatever it was that knocked you unconscious packed no small wallop. You were lucky, it could have been much worse.’
Kulgan noticed Pug, who stood quietly at the door, not wishing to disturb anyone. ‘Ha, Pug,’ he said, his voice regaining some of its usual volume. ‘Come in, come in. I understand I have you to thank for not taking an unexpected journey with unknown companions.’
Pug smiled, for Kulgan seemed his old, jovial self, in spite of his wan appearance. ‘I really did nothing, sir. I just felt that something was not right, and acted.’
‘Acted quickly and well,’ said the Duke with a smile. ‘The boy is again responsible for the well-being of one of my household. At this rate I may have to grant him the title Defender of the Ducal Household.’
Pug smiled, pleased with the Duke’s praise. Borric turned to the magician. ‘Well, seeing as you are full of fire, I think we should have a talk about yesterday. Are you well enough?’
The question brought an irritated look from Kulgan. ‘Of course I’m well enough. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you for the last ten minutes.’ Kulgan started to rise from the bed, but as dizziness overtook him, Tully put a restraining hand on his shoulder, guiding him back to the large pile of pillows he had been resting on.
‘You can talk here quite well enough, thank you. Now, stay in bed.’
Kulgan made no protest. He shortly felt better and said, ‘Fine, but hand me my pipe, will you, please?’
Pug fetched Kulgan’s pipe and pouch of tabac and, as the magician tamped down the bowl, a long burning taper from the fire pot. Kulgan lit his pipe and, when it was burning to his satisfaction, lay back with a contented look on his face. ‘Now,’ he said, ‘where do we begin?’
The Duke quickly filled him in on what Tully had revealed, with the priest adding a few details the Duke overlooked. When they were done, Kulgan nodded. ‘Your assumption about the origin of these people is likely. I suspected the possibility when I saw the artifacts brought from the ship, and the events in this room yesterday bear me out.’ He paused for a moment, organizing his thoughts. ‘The scroll was a personal letter from a magician of these people, the Tsurani, to his wife, but it was also more. The seal was magically endowed to force the reader to incant a spell contained at the end of the message. It is a remarkable spell enabling anyone, whether or not they can normally read, to read the scroll.’
The Duke said, ‘This is a strange thing.’
Tully said, ‘It’s astonishing.’
‘The concepts involved are completely new to me,’ agreed Kulgan. ‘Anyway, I had neutralized that spell so I could read the letter without fear of magical traps, common to private messages written by magicians. The language was of course strange, and I employed a spell from another scroll to translate it. Even understanding the language through that spell, I don’t fully understand everything discussed.
‘A magician named Fanatha was traveling by ship to a city on his homeworld. Several days out to sea, they were struck by a severe storm. The ship lost its mast, and many of the crew were washed overboard. The magician took a brief time to pen the scroll – it was written in a hasty hand – and cast the spells upon it. It seems this man could have left the ship at any time and returned to his home or some other place of safety, but was enjoined from doing so by his concern for the ship and its cargo. I am not clear on this point, but the tone of the letter suggested that risking his life for the others on the ship was somehow unusual. Another puzzling thing was a mention of his duty to someone he called the ‘Warlord.’ I may be reaching for straws, but the tone leads me to think this was a matter of honor or a promise, not some personal duty. In any event he penned the note, sealed it, and was then going to undertake to move the ship magically.’
Tully shook his head in disbelief. ‘Incredible.’
‘And as we understand magic, impossible,’ Kulgan added excitedly.
Pug noticed that the magician’s professional interest was not shared by the Duke, who looked openly troubled. The boy remembered Tully’s comments on what magic of that magnitude meant if these people were to invade the Kingdom. The magician continued, ‘These people possess powers about which we can only speculate. The magician was very clear on a number of points – his ability to compress so many ideas into so short a message shows an unusually organized mind.
‘He took great pains to reassure his wife he would do everything in his power to return. He referred to opening a rift to the ‘new world,’ because – and I don’t fully understand this – a bridge was already established, and some device he possessed lacked . . . some capacity or another to move the ship on his own world. From all indications, it was a most desperate gamble. He placed a second spell on the scroll – and this is what caught me in the end. I thought by neutralizing the first spell I had countered the second also, but I was in error. The second spell was designed to activate as soon as someone had finished reading the scroll aloud, another unheard-of piece of magical art. The spell caused another of these rifts to open, so the message would be transported to a place called ‘the Assembly’ and from there to his wife. I was nearly caught in the rift with the message.’
Pug stepped forward. Without thinking, he blurted, ‘Then those hands might have been his friends trying to find him.’
Kulgan looked at his apprentice and nodded. ‘A possibility. In any event, we can derive much from this episode. These Tsurani have the ability to control magic that we can only hint at in our speculation. We know a little about the occurrences of rifts, and nothing of their nature.’
The Duke looked surprised. ‘Please explain.’
Kulgan drew deep on his pipe, then said, ‘Magic, by its nature, is unstable. Occasionally a spell will become warped – why, we don’t know – to such a degree, it . . . tears at the very fabric of the world. For a brief time a rift occurs,
