“Is he still alive?” Teggendorf interrupted the quite confounded silence.

“Does he exist at all?” Tvrdík whispered to Telesma.

“He is alive,” said Axleben, “and is the greatest living specialist in the field of astral bodies and beings. If anyone can help here, it’s him. Let’s go for luncheon. Oh… I almost forgot…” The necromancer met Reynevan’s gaze and looked him in the eyes. “You are his friend, young man,” he stated rather than asked, “and your name is Reynevan.”

Reynevan swallowed and nodded in confirmation.

“While in a trance, Samson prophesied,” said Axleben unemotionally. “A distinct, clear, precise prophesy was repeated several times. Which applied to you. You are to beware of a Woman and a Maiden. It so happens,” the necromancer threw a chilling look at Scharley and Tvrdík, who were smiling scornfully. “It so happens that I know what it’s all about. The Old Woman and the Maiden are two famous towers, in the no less famous castle of Trosky, in the Podkrkonoší. Beware of Trosky Castle, young man called Reynevan.”

“Luckily,” Reynevan mumbled, “I have no plans to go there.”

“The luck here,” Axleben said over his shoulder as he walked towards the door, “is that Rupilius the Silesian, the only person in my opinion capable of helping your Samson, has been residing in Bohemia for over a decade. In Trosky Castle.”

Chapter Four

A month later. In which bombards fire and roar at the battle of Kolín and plans are devised: some large, others smaller, more or less utopian and fantastic. But only time will tell what is really utopia and what is fantasy.

“Brother Prokop! Brother Prokop! The bombard has cooled! Shall we fire it again?”

The man to whom the master gunner addressed his question was well built and broad-shouldered. His ruddy, simple-featured face, bulbous nose and black, drooping whiskers gave him the look of a peasant, like a farmer happy with the harvest.

Reynevan had already seen that man. Several times. Reynevan always looked at him with interest.