But two visitors, Vilotta Bott and Tremula Finn, who had just arrived on the night Barge for the Magyk of the Castle tour, stayed to watch. The tour had not been going well. The Wizard Tower was unaccountably shut; not even the Courtyard was open. In the fabled Wizard Way most of the shops were closing, rather than opening, and now, to cap it all, the tour guide had run off.

“At least someone’s putting on a bit of a show,” Vilotta whispered to her friend.

Within the striking green pillars Vilotta and Tremula saw the mist circling slowly, purposefully, creating shadows and shapes. They were very impressed when within each one a human form began to solidify—ten feet tall, wearing the ancient carapace armor of a Warrior Wizard and a very odd cloak, which looked dark and sparkly at the same time. Vilotta and Tremula were pleased—this was more like it. They watched in delight as shimmering green particles spun around the two impossibly tall figures like candy floss.

“I suppose they’re on stilts,” whispered Tremula.

“They’re very good; it’s really hard to stay still on stilts,” replied Vilotta.

As each wandering atom found its place the beings became clearer. The mist began to evaporate, sending sparkling, dancing motes up into the beams of sunlight that glanced off the silver torchpost outside the Manuscriptorium.

“So pretty,” murmured Tremula.

Suddenly there was a blinding flash of light and four beams of thin red light shot from the beings’ brilliant green eyes.

Vilotta and Tremula gasped with excitement.

In unison, Shamandrigger Saarn and Dramindonnor Naarn flung out their arms and two new Volatile Wands appeared. They swung around, the pinprick beams from their eyes sweeping along Wizard Way. Vilotta and Tremula offered a shy round of applause.

“It’s very realistic, isn’t it?” said Tremula, a little nervously.

It was horribly realistic.

Four red rays of light swung back and came to rest on Vilotta and Tremula. “Ooh, that prickles,” giggled Vilotta.

“This is a bit scary,” whispered Tremula.

“It hurts!” Vilotta gasped. “Ouch! Get off me.” She tried to brush the beams away.

Tremula screamed.

Craaaaack! A Bolt of lightning zipped from each Wand and Vilotta and Tremula fell to the ground, wisps of green smoke rising from their new trip-to-the-Castle summer dresses.

Shamandrigger Saarn and Dramindonnor Naarn looked at each other, the ghost of a smile playing about their thin lips. Thousands of years spent trapped side by side in the Two-Faced Ring had given them a communication that did not require speech.

Fyre . . . We smell it . . . In the air . . . The means of . . . Our destruction . . . Must be . . . Destroyed.

The Ring Wizards spun around and marched down Wizard Way in perfect step. They left behind two brightly colored piles of rags outside Bott’s Cloaks, and outside the Manuscriptorium what appeared to be two empty, muddy sacks, strangely sad in the late spring sunshine.

38

DRAGONS AWAY

The fat, opalescent Searching Glass sat like a crouching spider on its gimbals in the center of Search and Rescue. The circular black-walled room was dim with shadows, the only light coming from the Magykal Glass that floated mysteriously inside its delicate black frame. Marcia and Hildegarde were staring into its depths in horror.

Hildegarde had her hands clamped over her mouth. “They’ve killed them!” she cried.

“Oh, those poor, poor men,” Marcia murmured.

“I . . . I can’t believe it. It’s so awful,” said Hildegarde. “And those women. Fancy just standing there, watching.”

Marcia shook her head. “People forget that Magyk is a dangerous thing.”

The quiet gloom of the Searching Room mirrored their somber mood as Marcia and Hildegarde stared at the image of two ten-foot-tall armored figures striding off down Wizard Way, their cloaks streaming behind them, trailing wisps of Darke Light. Wizard Way was, Marcia was relieved to see, deserted—the Alert was obviously working.

“Where are they going?” Marcia muttered anxiously. “Why aren’t they coming here for Jenna and Merrin?”

“But they don’t know Jenna and Merrin are here, do they?” Hildegarde said.

Marcia was finding Hildegarde irritatingly dense. She wondered if she had made a mistake in allowing her to move from sub-Wizard to a full Ordinary. “Hildegarde, of course they Know. These Ancient Beings have links to their past like . . .” Marcia sought for a way to explain. “Like fish.”

“Fish?”

“On a line. A long line. Which you reel in.”