“Which we know it does thanks to the page Brian,” Arianne added. “He went out no less than three times yesterday. Now we are using dismounted dragon riders to survey the fog’s extent. He will be serving us for a while, by the way, part of his reward.”
Bal-Simba nodded.
“But most of this we knew as of this morning,” Arianne added. “From your manner I suspect you have discovered something more.”
The wizards brow furrowed. “Not discovered, exactly, but I did have a thought. Obviously our adversary has access to the Sparrows new magic. Perhaps that would be a fruitful line of inquiry.”
“Lord, the new magic is fairly widespread by now,” Arianne pointed out “The Sparrow and his friends have been teaching it to any who would learn and they in turn have been teaching it to others.”
“True, but whoever is behind this has unusual abilities with it. Perhaps it would be well to make inquiries, delicately, as to the activities of the especially apt pupils.”
“Yes,” the blond woman said slowly. “If done quietly it costs us little enough and may perhaps offer a clue.” Her expression changed.
“A thought of your own?” Bal-Simba asked.
“Perhaps,” Arianne said slowly. “It was unwise of them to step into the Enemy’s jaws unknowing.”
“Let us hope it was merely unwise,” the big wizard said to his assistant. “You may have noticed mat prudence is a characteristic notably lacking in Wiz and his friends. Their magic is powerful, but their method of training does not teach them the value of patience and caution in great matters.”
“I have noticed. So, apparently, has the Enemy. My Lord, has it occurred to you that this is a trap which would not work against most wizards? Only against Wiz and his friends?”
“I had not thought of that, but you are quite right.”
“And that, in turn, implies a knowledge not only of the new magic but of the wizards of Wiz’s world.”
“I take your point.”
“In fact,” Arianne went on, “there is one such here within our walls who might bear examination on both accounts.”
“Mikey? But he has the mind of a child.”
Arianne made a graceful gesture.
“You are right, of course.” He struck a crystal bell on his work table and Brian appeared in the doorway.
“Go find the chief healer and have her examine the foreign wizard we hold prisoner,” he told the page. “Then have her report to me.”
Brian bowed and dashed off down the corridor.
“Are there any from the Wizards’ Keep who have learned the new magic whom we cannot account for?” Bal-Simba asked.
“I will have to check but, off hand, I cannot think of any. One or two have died, of course, but… No, wait! There was one several years ago, the apprentice Pryddian who disappeared about the time Wiz was kidnapped by the remnants of the Dark League. His whereabouts were never discovered.”
Bal-Simba snorted. “I remember that one all too well. As I recall his skill was in stirring up discord, not magic. Still,” he went on, “there was a suspicion he had rifled the Sparrow’s desk and taken some manuscripts with him.” He sighed. “A sum lead, My Lady.”
“We have few better, My Lord.”
“I think…” Bal-Simba began slowly, but he was interrupted by a strong knock on the door. It was Bronwyn, tile councils chief Healer, tight-lipped and white-faced. “My Lord, I think you had better come look at this.” Bal-Simba hesitated. “Now.”
With Bal-Simba and Arianne in tow, Bronwyn led them up the winding stone stairs to the door of Mikey’s cell. The door was open and the two guards outside were clearly uneasy.
Once Mikey had been a skilled programmer and, as “Panda,” one of the best system breakers in Silicon Valley. But the shock of his final battle against Wiz and his elven allies had left him with the mind of a four-year-old. Now he spent his days playing with blocks and toy soldiers in a prison-cell-cum-playroom in one of the Keeps towers. He was fed, cared for and guarded, but otherwise ignored.
Now he was slumped in the corner, surrounded by a scattering of blocks. His eyes were closed, his head sunk on his chest and his breathing deep and regular.