The staircase here was contained, to give the inhabitants of the tower as much privacy as possible. It was lit by day by tiny slit windows, and by night by mage-lights that came alight when the staircase darkened. They ran into the first tenant on the stairs themselves; the youngest mage in the manor and once Jonaton’s apprentice. The lad did not copy his mentor’s sartorial splendor; long gray half-robes, gray tunic, and gray hose. Pelias squeezed himself against the wall so they could pass. “Are there oatcakes for breakfast?” the teenager asked, hopefully.

“With clotted cream and jam,” Kordas told him, and the young man pelted down the stairs they had just taken with an energy and enthusiasm that made Hakkon sigh.

“If only youth could be bottled,” his cousin said. “No, wait, the Emperor can—”

“But would you want it at that price?” Kordas countered.

“Hrrm. Youth siphoned off young criminals? Depends on the criminal, I suppose,” Hakkon replied. “A murderer, I’d be fine with that. A pickpocket, not so much.”

“Sooner or later you run out of murderers,” Kordas pointed out, as they encountered the second inhabitant of the tower, who had paused at the entrance to the stairs. “Morning, Siman.”

“Good morning, my lord.” Siman was old, but still vigorous, and was dressed. “I intuit by the rapidly fading footsteps of young Pelias that there are oatcakes for breakfast.”

“Your intuition is correct, as ever.” Kordas made space for the elder mage to pass. “There were still plenty when we left.”

“Good. If the sounds I heard at an unholy hour this morning are anything to go by, I believe Jonaton has good news for you, and the rest of us are about to put your father’s plan into action.”

Kordas felt his eyes widen with surprise, and he put out a hand to stop Siman and ask him more, but the mage was already out of sight and reach around the turn of the stair.

“Do you know anything about this?” he demanded of Hakkon.

His cousin shrugged. “You know me. Once I’m asleep, you could hold a battle on top of me and I’d never know it till I found the hoof prints in the morning.”

Well, there was only one thing for it. He whirled and began taking the steps upward two at a time.

They found Jonaton awake and feverishly scribbling figures on sheets of reused parchment. He looked up as he heard them enter.

“I have it!” he crowed, waving a handful of papers over his head. “I have it! I tried it last night and it worked!”