Shadow Prowler

“All right, thief,” the old man said, and looked out of the window. “It will be morning soon. I should have been asleep long ago, not riding round the city like this. I’ll drop you off—”

“Where, Your Magicship?” I interrupted.

“At the king’s palace, naturally! You need to be watched very carefully. Or you’ll create the kind of mess that not even the Beaver Caps can get you out of.”

“But the week I was given isn’t over yet,” I protested.

“I know,” Artsivus snapped. “But we don’t have that week anymore. You have to start out. Immediately. Soon we shall no longer be in control of events. So to wait until the end of the week would be suicide.”

“All right, but in any case I need to collect the papers I got from the Forbidden Territory. I’ll come to the palace tomorrow, or rather, this morning.”

“What, don’t you have the maps with you?” Artsivus asked in surprise.

“No, I’m not so stupid as to carry them about with me everywhere I go,” I lied, feeling the documents burning me through the side of my bag.

“And where did you hide them?” Artsivus harrumphed, making it clear that he didn’t regard the intellectual capacity of the man sitting opposite him too highly.

“In a safe place,” I replied evasively.

“In a safe place,” the archmagician muttered discontentedly. “In our times there are almost no safe places left, Harold. And I’m a little surprised that you, of all people, don’t seem to know that. Hmm, hmm . . . All right, have it your own way. But remember that if you don’t turn up at the palace in the morning, I shall deal with you in person.”

“Please have no doubt, Your Magicship, I’ll be there,” I hastily assured Artsivus with an air of crystal-clear honesty.

I don’t think that the old magician believed me at all, but nonetheless he shouted for the carriage to stop. So now I would have to walk to For’s place.

“All the best, Harold,” said Artsivus, letting me know that I was free to go.

“Goodnight, Your Magicship,” I said, maintaining the high tone of the conversation. When I have to, I can be extremely polite. I got out of the carriage and closed the door behind me.

So, it looked like I was on the boundary of the I

The coachmen whooped at the horses, and they set off at a brisk trot. But the carriage only went a few yards before it stopped again.

“Hey, you!” one of the servants called to me.

What kind of people were they? No ma

“Come here.”

I had to trudge all the way back and open the door for another look at the archmagician swaddled in his blanket.

“Harold, I completely forgot.” Artsivus coughed. “Thank you for your help. The Order will not forget this.”

Long after the carriage had dived into darkness and been swallowed up by it, I was still standing there in the middle of the street with my mouth hanging open. I couldn’t remember anything like it ever happening before. The Order had acknowledged someone’s help and even said thank you. Now I was absolutely certain that the world was poised on the edge of a precipice and at any moment the sky would come tumbling down.

17 NEW ACQUAINTANCES

Do you struggle with the Darkness within you?”

I gave a sigh of relief.

So, after all, there were some things in our sinful and long-suffering world that remained unchanged. The old fogey, so advanced in age that all the stuffing had spilled out of him ages ago, was still at his post in front of the gates of the cathedral. His partner was at the other side of the entrance, dozing on his feet and in danger of keeling over and collapsing on the ground at any moment.

“I a

“Then enter and address Them,” said the dozy old man, suddenly coming to life.

It’s amazing what the force of habit can do!

“I think I’ll probably do that in the morning. Why bother the gods with pretty trifles?” I said with a chuckle.

“Quite right,” the first priest responded. “The gods get tired of our stupid requests and prayers.”

“Well, be seeing you.” I waved to the old-timers and went on my way.

“Are you a worshiper of Sagot, too?” the first old man called to me.

“Yes,” I shouted without looking back, but then I suddenly froze and swung round sharply to face him. “What do you mean by ‘too’?”

“Why, some lads came in no more than five minutes ago. They asked where they could find the refuge of the Protector of the Hands, the priest For. Are you with them, too?”

I didn’t answer. Instead I set off at full tilt for the sanctuary. I don’t like it when people come looking for my old teacher in the middle of the night.

All the grounds of the cathedral were brightly illuminated with oil lamps. The warm July night was quiet and serene. There was only a solitary cricket chirping merrily under a bush, playing his little concert for all those who refused to sleep. Even as I ran, I knew that I could be too late. Whoever it was that had been looking for For, they had already done what they wanted to do. But I was propelled by the insane hope that everything might turn out all right, even though I realized that was simply impossible.

The statue of the knight locked in eternal combat with the ogre flashed by like a ghost; the statues of the gods flitted past in a blur of faces and figures. The path curved to the left, but I ran straight on across a flowerbed, crushing the sleepy, pale blue flowers with the mournfully drooping petals.

Forward, forward!

The gloom of the archway sucked me in and instantly spat me out at the other end. I went flying into the dwelling of Sagot, on the way snatching the crossbow out from behind my back. The accursed sweat was flooding into my eyes so that I couldn’t see properly or—even worse—aim properly. The door into For’s chambers . . .

I was too late. The door wasn’t there anymore. It had been chopped into several pieces and was no more than a heap of rough boards lying on the floor. I burst straight into the room—a stupid thing to do, I won’t argue, but just at that moment I wasn’t in any state to think straight.

I was greeted with weapons. About a dozen naked swords and a couple of lances very nearly made holes in Harold from every direction. The only thing that saved me was the sudden way I came to a halt. And, of course, that thunderous howl from For: