At last they came to the inn. It employed a glamour barker to drum up passing trade. This one was a small dragon, about the size of a horse. It sat on its haunches, forked tail curling. Its skin was green, except for its ribbed, pot-bellied stomach, which was white. The glamour-caster had used some artistic licence, incorporating long eyelashes, extraordinarily curvaceous lips and enormous eyes, yellow with flecks of red, shaped like inverted teardrops. It was an insufferably friendly dragon.

As Caldason and the boy approached the tavern’s door, the dragon said,

‘Come on in!’

Caldason ignored it, making no attempt to hide his distaste at being addressed by a glamour.

‘Come on in!’

the dragon repeated.

‘We intend to,’ Kutch replied.

‘Come on in and have a flagon of ale or a draught of hot toddy!’

The dragon swished its tail and gave them a hideous be-fanged smile.

‘All are welcome! Enjoy a warming cup of brandy or a goblet of honey wine!’

‘We’d like to,’ Caldason growled darkly.

The dragon threw out its arms in a gesture of openness and hospitality, blocking the tavern’s door.

‘Eat here! We have meat, fowl and fish, cooked -’

it breathed a blast of smoky red flame

‘- to perfection!’

‘Thank you,’ Kutch mouthed pointlessly.

‘The finest stews, breads, fruit, vegetables, served by genial apple-cheeked wenches!’

The dragon gave them a lecherous wink.

Caldason reached for his sword.

‘No, Reeth,’ Kutch said, staying his hand. ‘Come away, he’s not worth it.’

They marched past the dragon to the entrance.

‘Come on in!’

the glamour parroted.

‘All are welcome! Enjoy a -’

The door slammed shut behind them.

Inside it was ill-lit and rather shabby. There were no wenches, apple-cheeked or otherwise. The score or so customers drank, smoked and conversed quietly in small groups.

Everybody stared at Caldason, but the Qalochian seemed totally unfazed. His build, weapons and expression dissuaded anybody who might fancy starting anything, while any thought the inn keeper might have had of not serving him was short-lived.

‘Brandy,’ Caldason said, ‘and watered wine for the boy. Generous on the water.’

‘I’m starving,’ Kutch announced. ‘What’s there to eat?’

‘Just that.’ The inn keeper jabbed a thumb at a platter of pig’s feet. They were green-tinged and fly-blown. He rubbed a hand on his grubby apron and reached for the plate.

‘Er, no,’ Kutch said. ‘I don’t think I’ll bother, thanks.’

‘Suit yourself.’

He got their drinks and slid them across. Caldason slapped some coins on the distressed counter top.

They sat at a bench in a quiet corner, Reeth facing into the room. The other drinkers whispered and kept glancing their way. It didn’t seem to bother Caldason, but Kutch found it uncomfortable.

‘How do you put up with it?’ he asked under his breath.

‘I don’t always.’

‘You won’t kill anybody, will you?’

‘I’ll try not to. Don’t swill that drink.’

They sat quietly sipping, Kutch’s face taking on a ruddy shade due to the unaccustomed alcohol.

Eventually, Karr joined them. He refused a drink, and showed them a purse. ‘We got a fair price. Here, Kutch.’

‘You keep it. I’ve never had much need for money.’

‘You’re going to have to learn to use it, you’ve a new life now.’ He crammed the purse back into his pocket. ‘Just ask whenever you want it.’ He glanced around. ‘It’s time we moved on.’

‘Where to?’ Caldason asked.

‘I’ve the use of a house in the eastern quarter. You’ll find it comfortable enough. Unlike my main residence, we don’t think the authorities know about it. It’s a bit of a journey and we’ll not be taking a direct route for obvious reasons. So we should be leaving.’

‘What about putting me in touch with Covenant?’

‘That’s going to take a day or two to arrange,’ the patrician returned, slightly piqued. ‘Be patient.’

They rose and left the inn.

Outside, the dragon was still going through its pitch. The day had grown darker and there were storm clouds directly above. They were laden with rain, but none was falling yet.

Karr strung his cloak tighter. ‘It threatens to be a wet journey, I’m afraid.’

He led the way. As they walked, lightning flashed, thunder boomed overhead and a light rain began to fall. People hurried by, expecting a torrent.

They came to a piece of open ground between two houses, like a missing tooth. Only the broken foundations of the absent building remained. They were blackened, indicating the damage had been done by fire, and not recently. The lot was scattered with rubble and choked with weeds.

As the trio passed, there was a blinding flash and a deafening boom. A yellow-white javelin connected sky and ground for a fraction of a second.

The lightning strike stopped them in their tracks. It began to rain the harder. Near the middle of the empty plot there was now a smouldering crater.

‘Come on,’ Caldason said.

‘Wait,’ Kutch told him, staring at the crater.

‘What is it?’

Kutch paid no heed and started walking towards the pit. They tagged on behind him.

‘What’s going on?’ Karr wanted to know. ‘What’s the matter?’

Kutch arrived at the edge of the crater and gazed down into it. His expression was rapt. The other two caught up.

Caldason was tetchy. ‘What are you doing, Kutch?’

In a kind of daze, Kutch replied, ‘It’s said they’re susceptible to attracting lightning. Particularly when they’re close to the surface, like this one.’

Reeth and Karr looked down.

In making its crater, the lightning had fractured something that looked like a channel. Through the exposed duct, at the bottom of the pit, mercury gushed. Or at least it resembled mercury in colour and constituency. It flowed into one side of the crater and out through a fissure in the other. A pool of the stuff was forming. The silverish liquid, whatever it was, radiated intense cold. A kind of crystalline frost was beginning to appear on the crater walls.

Karr, now awed himself, said quietly, ‘Is that what I think it is?’

Kutch nodded. ‘An energy line. I never thought I’d see one. Do you know how rare it is for it to be exposed like this?’

Although it was summer, their breath could plainly be seen.

Caldason stared at the silvery flux. ‘You’re saying that’s…raw magic?’

‘Not exactly. It’s the carrier for it, the medium. Like an aqueduct. Magic’s chariot, the scholars call it. The substance magic uses to manifest itself.’

They saw that the droplets of falling rain were evaporating before they could touch the tide of mercury, disappearing in minute clouds of steam. Yet it was profoundly cold.

‘This is dangerous, isn’t it?’ Karr said. ‘Kutch?’

‘Hmmm? Oh, yes. Probably.’

Reeth clasped his arm. ‘Then it might be a good idea to come away from it, don’t you think?’

They pulled back.

For the first time they noticed that other people were gathering. As they moved away, the curious pressed in to replace them. Two men rushed past on their way to the crater, carrying steel buckets. One of them shouted gleefully to the other, ‘Think of the value!’

Kutch was alarmed. ‘No! They shouldn’t do that, Reeth. You’ve got to stop them!’

‘Exactly how dangerous

is

this?’

‘The magical energy can manifest spontaneously, and without direction. That could be… difficult.’

More inquisitive people streamed past. There was a scrum around the crater now.

A commotion broke out. Cries of alarm, yells and screams resounded.

An eruption occurred. Two bodies, limbs flailing, and two buckets shot high into the air.

‘Told you so,’ Kutch said.

A series of brilliant flashes lit the crater area. They were succeeded by intense pulsating lights of rapidly changing primary colours. Thick clouds of smoke rose. A strong rotten eggs smell wafted over the crowd.