The lines of mortar clearly bowed and rippled like patterned fabric blown by the wind. The wall suddenly billowed like a sail, swelled in a large and quickly growing bubble. The bubble burst stickily. And something emerged from it.

That something was invisible, evidently concealed beneath a spell. Dumbfounded, frozen and curled up in a ball in the corner, Reynevan observed the outline of a shape, a transparent shape, metamorphosing, bulging as it moved, like water. He guessed why he was able to see it at all: the remains of the spell emitted by the magic-detecting periapt still hung in the air.

The transparent shape moving smoothly towards Rupilius’s skeleton hadn’t noticed him. But Reynevan suddenly understood with blinding certainty that this might be his only chance.

“Video videndum! ” he yelled with the amulet in his hand. “Alef Tau!”

The shape materialised so suddenly that it shuddered, which made Reynevan’s task much easier. He leaped at the newcomer like a lynx, grabbed him and flung him down onto the dirt floor, then punched him under the ribs with all his strength. It forced the air and a foul curse from the visitor and Reynevan seized him by the throat. Or tried to, for he was suddenly butted in the face. Although he saw stars, he returned the blow, cutting his forehead on the newcomer’s teeth. The latter swore again on being struck and yelled something incomprehensible. The magic-detecting amulet reacted automatically and the dungeon filled with light. Of course, Reynevan managed to think, feeling a dreadful force lifting him up in the air. There’s no doubt he’s a sorcerer. Somebody who knows magic, he thought as he levitated. I’ve taken on a mage, he thought just before slamming into the wall with great force. He crumpled and curled up in a ball, unable to take any further action.

The arrival nudged him with the tip of his shoe. “Are you injured?” he enquired softly.

Reynevan didn’t answer.

“Who the Devil are you?”

Reynevan didn’t answer that time, either, but curled up in an even tighter ball. The stranger bent over and picked the amulet up from the floor.

“A Visumrepertum periapt,” he said with some admiration in his voice. “Quite well made. And you saw through my fe-fiada using the Spell of True Seeing… Are you a Toledo?”

“Alma…” grunted Reynevan, feeling his head and neck. “Mater… Nostra. Clavis… Salomonis?”

“Yes, yes, we’ll get by without the declamation. Who made the Visumrepertum? You?”

“Teles—Jošt Dun. From Opatovice.”

“And from Heidelberg,” the stranger added carelessly. “How is he?”

“They are all well.”