If each second felt like an hour — and it did — Aefric felt as though he passed half a season waiting for Ser Deirdre to give the all clear.

  Finally, she appeared on the landing, silhouetted by bright white light from the room behind her.

  “We’ve found their court wizard’s lab,” she said. “Most of the magic in here is lingering from past spells, but there’s an engraved circle on the floor, plenty of apparatus and…”

  Ser Deirdre grinned. “Grimoires! Two shelves of them!”

  “Yrsa,” Aefric growled.

  “Any wards we need to know about?” Ser Yrsa asked, keeping her arms up and ready to hold Aefric back, just in case.

  “The grimoires are pretty heavily warded,” she said. “More than one layer of wards, I think. That’s it. I mean. Apart from the scry wards, of course.”

  Ser Yrsa nodded, but insisted on herself and Ser Beornric going up first.

  The chamber was about five strides across, just like the other towers. No dust in here, though. Peaked windows that shuttered closed, and lacked glass.

  Aefric immediately spell-locked them closed. Just in case the former court wizard had a talent for shapeshifting.

  Ser Deirdre was right. There was a lot of magic here.

  The elaborate circle engraved in the floor, and filled with … was that topaz? Interesting choice. It wasn’t enchanted, per se, but it held the magical detritus of hundreds, perhaps thousands of operations.

  “Handy,” Ser Deirdre muttered to Aefric. “Having a ready-made circle with that much power to it.”

  “I’ll break it before we head back down,” Aefric said, and smiled at the shock in Ser Deirdre’s eyes. “For all I know, the wizard who used it can send things to it from a distance. Can’t risk that.”

  “Thank you,” Ser Yrsa said sincerely, then checked herself when the other knights clearly fought down chuckles. “I … appreciate your grace’s … caution.”

  Aefric chuckled. “I take risks sometimes, but I’m not a fool.”

  He turned away quickly, in case she might’ve debated that point.

  Magical paraphernalia on the worktables, enchanted to ease and facilitate research, but not in any way that could be used against him.

  “Good,” Aefric muttered.

  The stool beneath the workbench had been enchanted for comfort, but not excessively.

  “My guess?” Ser Deirdre said. “That was one overweight magic-user who didn’t like his butt getting sore while working.”

  Aefric chuckled before he could stop himself, which was met with a sparkle of approval from Ser Deirdre’s eyes.

  On to the library.

  Excitement shivered through Aefric. Truly, was there any more wondrous discovery than new magic he could learn?

  He was still working his way through the grimoires left behind at Water’s End by Duchess Arinda when she passed. And he’d already learned a great many interesting things about the way the Soulfist family approached magic. And more than a few things about magic itself.

  But Ser Deirdre was right. The wards on these books ran four layers deep.

  “This is going to take time I can’t spend right now.” Aefric sighed. “In fact, I may have to send Karbin back here to work his way through these wards. I’m not sure I can take the time myself.”

  Ser Yrsa started to say something, but stopped herself.

  Aefric chuckled. “You’re welcome, Ser Yrsa.”

  Ser Yrsa’s grin looked feral and slightly threatening. But Aefric knew there was no malice in it. Her grins always looked that way.

  “One thing before we move on,” he said. And Aefric added his own layer of wards over the top of those grimoires. “Just in case.”

  “Shall we move up upstairs?” Ser Deirdre asked eagerly.

  “A moment, first,” Aefric said, and cast his spell to detect doors.

  He found a trapdoor on the floor, concealed by illusionary white stone.

  “Upstairs can wait,” Aefric said, smiling as he dismissed the illusion concealing the door. “We have something else to check out first.”

  There was no lock on the trapdoor in the wizard’s tower. Not even a spell lock, which Aefric considered the price of using illusion to conceal a trapdoor.

  On the one hand, using a spell lock would be a more certain way of protecting what lay beneath. Because magic-users were not exactly common to begin with. And spell locks could keep out even a fair percentage of magic-users.

  Aefric had developed a good deal of skill at dealing with spell locks in the course of his adventuring. Not to mention that he’d been trained by Karbin, the Iron Wands, and Kainemorton himself, though the years.

  Few spell locks could keep Aefric out.

  Illusion, on the other hand, would be better than a lock, in the sense that most people would overlook it. And the illusion covering this trapdoor had been good enough to fool even Ser Deirdre, who normally had a good eye for such things, for a dweomerblade.

  It hadn’t fooled Aefric, because while the illusion deceived his eye, it couldn’t deceive his door-detecting spell.

  But the choice had to be one or the other. The spell lock or the illusion. Not both. Because hiding a spell lock under an illusion was much, much trickier than just making a trapdoor look like part of the floor.

  Trying to cover both would require more senses, more approaches, and, in general, a lot more work than added benefit.

  Of course, once discovered, most any illusion could be broken pretty easily.

  Must’ve looked impressive, though, from the way his knights murmured about Aefric’s calling their attention to a trapdoor that hadn’t been there the moment before.

  It was an iron door, that could be pulled up with a small, thin rope.

  Made the illusion work all the more impressive. Any of them might’ve stepped on that cord and not noticed.

  “May I, your grace?” Ser Deirdre asked.

  Aefric nodded.

  Rapier in hand, Ser Deirdre shot Aefric a grin and pulled back the trapdoor.

  Stairs leading down into darkness.

  Ser Deirdre shot Aefric another grin, and limned her rapier in a deep reddish glow.

  “You can see by that?” Aefric asked.

  “Quite clearly, your grace,” she said, “and its light isn’t visible from very far.”

  She drew her dueling dagger in her off-hand and descended the steps slowly, showing more caution than Aefric expected.

  “Tight confines, here at the bottom,” she said. “Cabinets and…”

  She whistled. “Found the reagents, your grace.”

  “Any lingering magic?” Ser Yrsa asked.

  “Nothing,” Ser Deirdre said. “Not down here.”

  “I’m going,” Aefric said, and without waiting for a yea or nay from his knights, followed Ser Deirdre down the stairs.

  The confines were tight at the bottom of the stairs. It looked like a small room, made smaller by floor-to-ceiling cabinets full of drawers.

  Tight enough down there that Ser Deirdre had to sheathe her weapons to make room for Aefric. Fortunately the Brightstaff afforded more than enough light.

  Though he noticed she made no move to leave. Instead she “made room” in such a way that they were pressed together as soon as he reached the bottom of the stairs.

  As her violet scent reached his nostrils, Aefric found himself uncomfortably aware of the way her chest pressed against his arm.

  From the smile in her jade green eyes, he didn’t think it was accidental.

  “Excuse me, your grace,” she whispered, slipping an arm between them so that her fingers could reach the handle of a small drawer. “I wanted to make sure your grace didn’t miss this.”

  She pulled open the drawer.

  It was a drawer full of diamonds, each of sufficient size, cut, and clarity to be worth the cost of a good set of full plate armor. Not to mention its enameling, engraving, and likely other adornments besides.

  “Useful for enchantment,” she said softly. “Wouldn’t your grace agree?”

  Aefric nodded. The dust of an expensive diamond, properly crushed in a mortar and pestle, was a key ingredient in many long-lasting spells and enchantments.

  “Not all of these drawers hold such value in gold, of course,” she whispered. “But this lab appears to be very well stocked.”

  “Very,” Aefric agreed, checking a few more drawers. Rare herbs. A unicorn’s horn. Some teeth that looked draconic…

  Of course, checking the contents of these cabinets was difficult with Ser Deirdre pressed up against him.

  He turned to her, their faces inches apart.

  “Ser Deirdre.”

  “Yes, your grace?”

  “Are you expecting something in these drawers to attack me?”

  “Best to be safe, your grace.”

  Aefric verified that he could sense no magic down here, then added a quick check for doors and traps as well.

  “I think it’s safe enough,” he said. “I can catalog it all later.”

  “Of course, your grace,” she said, lips slightly parted now.

  “Ser Deirdre?”

  “Yes, your grace?”

  “It’s time for us to go back up the stairs.”

  “Must we, your grace?” she asked with a mischievous smile. “I find this position quite agreeable.”

  “Ser Deirdre—”

  “As my duke, your grace can forgo my courtesy anytime he likes, I hope he knows this. In fact,” — her gaze flicked to Aefric’s lips — “I suspect I’ll enjoy hearing my name on your grace’s lips more if not preceded by my courtesy.”

  “Deirdre?”

  She shivered a little. “Yes, your grace?”

  “We’re almost done exploring this castle. I’d like to finish.”

  Her eyes sparkled with mirth. “Of course, your grace. I’m always happy to help your grace finish.”

  He smiled despite himself, which made her grin.

  “After you?” he said, nodding to the stairs.

  “Oh, no, your grace,” she said softly. “It wouldn’t be proper. I am just a knight, after all.”

  “I doubt you’re just anything.”

  Ser Deirdre smiled. “Your grace always knows what to say.”

  Aefric started up the stairs, with Ser Deirdre two steps behind him, weapons in her hands once more.

  “Of course,” she said softly, “if your grace ever offers me the chance to finish first, I’d be only too happy to accept.”

  When Aefric and Ser Deirdre rejoined the others in the wizard’s lab, Ser Yrsa frowned at Ser Deirdre. Muttered something to her while Aefric put a spell lock on the trapdoor that led down to those wonderful cabinets full of reagents.

  Aefric suspected that his general would have words with Ser Deirdre later about proper comportment around one’s liege. And she had a point.

  But Aefric had to admit, he enjoyed Deirdre’s flirting. And more importantly, he’d hate to see anything dampen the woman’s spirit.

  Ser Vria moved to check the door at the back of the room.

  “Wait,” Aefric said. “Everyone back onto the stairs.”

  “Your grace?” Ser Beornric asked.

  “Behind that door is likely a set of stairs leading up to the previous court wizard’s chambers.” Aefric pointed at the topaz magic circle on the floor. “It’s not impossible to hide a latent spell behind the detritus of many castings over a long period of time. I’m not risking that something we find upstairs will trigger something coming out of this.”

  “I could break the circle if your grace would prefer,” Ser Deirdre said brightly.

  “I’m sure you could,” Aefric said, “but I’d like to do this myself.”

  Ser Yrsa frowned.

  Aefric cleared his throat.

  Ser Beornric began herding knights back onto the previous set of stairs.

  Alone in the wizard’s lab now, though with his knights watching, Aefric tapped the butt of the Brightstaff on the white stone floor.

  White lightning began to play along its length.

  Aefric gathered the white lightning in a ball at the butt end of the white thunderwood staff.

  What he did next was the sort of thing that drove wizards mad. After all, wizards took a logical, orderly approach to magic that produced verifiable results that could be duplicated by anyone with sufficient training.

  But while Aefric was weak at the applied logic aspect of magic, his instincts as a dweomerblood made him very strong in the other two aspects: artistry, and his understanding of the interrelationship of forces.

  So Aefric allowed his eyes to become heavy lidded as he looked over that magic circle. Perceiving it both magically and physically at the same time.

  He let his attention sweep back and forth across the circle and its many symbols and sigils and inscribed words in different languages.

  First one way, then another, then spiraling in and sweeping out…

  On the fifth pass he found the key to the circle. A small sigil along the due eastern portion of its arc flared red to his sight.

  His instincts told him that this sigil represented the wizard who cast the circle. Which meant that this wizard did, indeed, maintain a connection to it.

  At Aefric’s mental command, lightning leapt from the butt end of his staff, smiting only that sigil.

  The circle died.

  “Whoa!” Ser Deirdre said from the stairs. “Vria. Did you see that?”

  “Yes,” Ser Vria said, sounding astonished. “It was like … it was like all the leftover magic in that circle was a damp fog, and poof. It’s gone.”

  “But the circle’s still intact,” Ser Deirdre said. She shook her head as the knights entered the room. “Never seen anything like that before, your grace.”

  “There are two ways to destroy a circle,” Aefric said. “One is simply to break it. The other is to break its tie to the wizard who made it. That’s what I did. Now he can’t use it against me. And when I have time, I’ll be able to make it my own.”

  Aefric nodded his head back and forth. “Or maybe give it to Karbin. We’ll see.”

  “Is it safe to move on then, your grace?” Ser Yrsa asked, sounding more respectful than Aefric expected. Perhaps she understood how careful he’d just been. For a change.

  Aefric smiled and nodded. “We’re ready to proceed.”

  That door at the back of the room did indeed hide stairs that led to the next floor up, which had clearly been the wizard’s chambers. And those chambers hadn’t been nearly as important to the wizard as…

  …as the lab had.

  The round chamber held only a small, simple bed. A very basic desk, with four drawers. A thick red carpet to relieve the tedium of the white stone, but nothing on the walls to do likewise. A small bookshelf full of nothing books. Poetries and histories, but not the sort he’d expect a wizard to keep.

  Not a wizard who served this household, anyway.

  “Something’s off,” Aefric said.

  His knights immediately readied their weapons. Aefric frowned as he looked about. He wasn’t sure what was bothering him. This room just didn’t seem consistent with the impression he’d been gathering about this wizard.

  Illusion, perhaps? Hiding the room’s real contents?

  About the time the thought occurred to Aefric, it must’ve occurred to Ser Deirdre. For she spun her dueling dagger in one hand, then slashed it through the air, leaving a maroon trail that faded quickly.

  Illusion was right.

  The room was now completely empty, save for a piece of parchment tacked to the door that would lead up to the roof of the tower.

  Aefric checked again for traps, just to be safe, then pulled the parchment off the wall and read it.

  Dear Usurper,

  If you have found this note, then likely you have found my reagents as well. I congratulate you on your puissance.

  No doubt you expected to find waiting for you my own tools and weapons of the Art. But those I spirited away before the family summoned me to prepare a few surprises for you.

  No doubt you have already found those surprises. Most of them, at least. I hope you enjoyed them as much as I enjoyed leaving them for you. I hope that surviving them has cost you dearly.

  Would that I had time to deny you my reagents and my grimoires, but that time is denied me. If you are an honorable man, contact me at Svarturvigi and I shall ransom my grimoires. In so doing I shall even provide the secret of the wards that guard them, so that even in returning them to me, you will still gain in magic.

  I can be a reasonable man about such things.

  But I cannot be reasonable about Hrafnvigi. It has been my home for too long, and the home for the Hrafntonn family for far longer.

  Have you found the curse yet? I hope not. I hope these words are the first you learn of it, and that dread sours your stomach. As it should.

  For whether you find the curse or not, it shall find you. And do not hope to defeat my curse. I have inscribed it in a tongue so old that it is forgotten by all but me and my master. And my master is dead.

  Perhaps, if you prove honorable about my grimoires, I shall give you the key to defeating the curse. You may have stolen my home, but you took it in war. And the Hrafntonn family respects war.

  I shall await word.

  Larus Hrafntonn

  “Curse?” Ser Deirdre asked.

  “We should send for Karbin,” Ser Yrsa said. “Just to be safe.”

  “And we will,” Aefric agreed. “But not yet. I want to see the rest of the castle first.”

  “Might be better to wait,” Ser Yrsa said. “Karbin could be here in less than a day, if necessary.”

  “We finish,” Aefric said.

  “I can’t believe he took the furniture too,” Ser Beornric said. “If he could do that, why leave the grimoires?”

  “I only know the magic involved by reputation,” Aefric said slowly. “But if my references are correct, it is a spell that will take everything in a room and reduce it into something that looks like a gold coin. Likely that he then hid in his boot.”

  “And your grace doesn’t think his boots held enough room for two coins?” Ser Yrsa asked.

  “More likely,” Aefric said, “he only had time to cast the spell once, and hurriedly. He simply didn’t have time for his bedroom and laboratory both.”