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Contents ( 46)
  1. Chapter One
  2. Chapter Two
  3. Chapter Three
  4. Chapter Four
  5. Chapter Five
  6. Chapter Six
  7. Chapter Seven
  8. Chapter Eight
  9. Chapter Nine
  10. Chapter Ten
  11. Chapter Eleven
  12. Chapter Twelve
  13. Chapter Thirteen
  14. Chapter Fourteen
  15. Chapter Fifteen
  16. Chapter Sixteen
  17. Chapter Seventeen
  18. Chapter Eighteen
  19. Chapter Nineteen
  20. Chapter Twenty
  21. Chapter Twenty-one
  22. Chapter Twenty-two
  23. Chapter Twenty-three
  24. Chapter Twenty-four
  25. Chapter Twenty-five
  26. Chapter Twenty-six
  27. Chapter Twenty-seven
  28. Chapter Twenty-eight
  29. Chapter Twenty-nine
  30. Chapter Thirty
  31. Chapter Thirty-one
  32. Chapter Thirty-two
  33. Chapter Thirty-three
  34. Chapter Thirty-four
  35. Chapter Thirty-five
  36. Chapter Thirty-six
  37. Chapter Thirty-seven
  38. Chapter Thirty-eight
  39. Chapter Thirty-nine
  40. Chapter Forty
  41. Chapter Forty-one
  42. Chapter Forty-two
  43. Chapter Forty-three
  44. Chapter Forty-four
  45. Chapter Forty-five
  46. Chapter Forty-six

I took a chance, picked the most solid-looking floorboard I could see, and eased across the floor to the far side of the building, the one nearest the water, and turned to face the hole in the wall that Magog’s body had smashed open on its way in.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

I readied my will and shook out my shield bracelet, in case I needed it. I lifted my staff and pointed it at where I thought Eldest Gruff ’s head might be when he came in, so he would know I was serious.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

I adjusted the aim on the staff a little higher.

Thump. Thump.

Sweat trickled off my brow.

Thump. Thump.

How far did this guy have to walk?

Thump. Thump.

This was just getting ridiculous, now.

Thump. Thump.

And Eldest Gruff appeared in the opening.

He was five feet tall. Five-two, tops.

He wore a robe with a cowl, pulled back so that I could clearly see his curling ram’s horns, the goatlike features, the long white beard, the yellow eyes with their hourglass pupils.

And in his right hand he carried a wooden staff carved with runes that looked almost precisely like my own.

He took a limping step forward, leaning on his staff, and when he planted the tool on the ground, it flickered with green light that then splashed out onto the earth beneath it, spreading outward in a resonating wave. Thump.

The floorboards creaked beneath him, and he came to a cautious stop and faced me quietly, both hands on his staff. His robe was belted with an old bit of simple rope. There were three stoles hanging through it—purple ones, faded and frayed with the passage of time.

Those were the mantles worn by members of the Senior Council, the leaders of the White Council of Wizards. They were, generally speaking, the oldest and strongest wizards on the planet.

And Eldest Brother Gruff had, evidently, killed three of them in duels.

“This,” I said, “has really not been my day.”

The gruff regarded me solemnly. “Hail, young wizard.” He had a deep, resonant voice, far too huge and rich for the frame it came from. “Thou knowest why I have come.”

“To slay me, most likely,” I said.

“Aye,” said the gruff. “By my Queen’s command and in defense of Summer’s honor.”

“Why?” I asked him. “Why would Summer want Marcone taken by the Denarians? Why would Summer want the Archive under their control?”

The gruff only stared at me for a long moment, but when he spoke I could have sworn that his voice sounded pensive. Maybe even troubled. “It is not my place to know such things—or to ask.”

“The gruffs are Summer’s champion in this matter, aren’t they?” I demanded. “If not you, then who?”

“What of thee, wizard?” the gruff countered. “Hast thou asked why the wicked Queen of Winter would wish thee to prevent Marcone from being taken by those servants of the darkest shadow? Why she who embodies destruction and death would wish to protect and preserve the Archive?”