It was long and dark, the only illumination coming from a torch set into the wall right next to a separate passage branching away in another direction. As they stepped forward, a shadow seemed to detach itself from the walls and came to stand beside them. Melissa stiffened in surprise, then relaxed; she recognized the large man as Gol, Ceryni's bodyguard. Though he seemed to spend more time these days keeping an eye on Harry.

"Harrel," grunted Gol in his deep, low voice. "Hurry up. Your da says he doesn't have all day."

"You know that's a lie, Gol," said Harry. "And anyway, Melissa's not used to coming here the usual way so we had to take the long cut."

"Tell that to your da, not me," replied Gol as he led them down the road to the side passage.

Harry shook his head as they turned down it. "Dwells these days," he said to Melissa. "Don't know anything about showing respect. I dare you to find a single urchin in our pay who won't backchat if he got the chance."

"Well, you definitely give them plenty," she replied.

He narrowed his eyes at her. "What's that mean?" he demanded.

She rolled her eyes, hiding a snigger at the same time. "Never mind," she said, speeding up to walk beside Gol, who was so vast he barely left any space between himself and the wall for her to squeeze into.

They proceeded down the passageway at the bottom of the stairs for some time. Suddenly, Gol stopped in front of a stretch of brick wall which seemed no different from the others. He reached out and tapped a non-descript brick; it gave way, along with about twenty others, revealing yet another passage behind it. At the far end was a door with two torches in brackets burning on either side of it. Gol stepped aside as first Harry, then Melissa stepped through the gap in the wall before following them inside. On the other side he worked a lever which used some kind of mechanism to noiselessly, if shakily, slide the bricks back to their original position.

Melissa shifted her gaze from the moving wall to the door which Harry had reached and was rapping on smartly. A panel near the top slid aside and a pair of dark eyes glared out. When they saw Harry, the panel slid back and the door swung open, not revealing the person behind it.

Melissa followed Harry into a little room, unfurnished except for a table and chair, and shivered; despite the heat of the sun on the on the streets above, the room was quite cold.

Harry turned to her. "Sorry, Mels," he said apologetically. "You'll have to wait here, just in case Da's got someone with him."

"I don't mind, Harry" she replied.

"Won't be long," he promised. "Gol will be outside if you want anything." He exited through the door at the other end.

Melissa turned around and started with surprise; she had forgotten about the door- opener. He stood in front of her now, surveying her with a beady eye.

"Is there anything you want?" he asked.

"No," she replied. The man gave her a cursory nod, then turned and walked out the door, pulling it shut behind him. Melissa heard him talking to Gol as she sat down in the chair and tilted it back.

She noticed a drawer in the desk. It was slightly ajar. She hadn't even known the desk had a drawer. The desk belonged to Harry and Melissa knew he wouldn't mind if she looked inside, as he kept anything important in his rooms. She tugged it open and picked up a blank piece of paper. Turning it over, she was startled to see a very familiar face looking back at her. But Harry looked much older in this picture and-her puzzlement turned to bewilderment- he was standing next to a young woman Melissa had never seen before and the woman was holding a beaming baby in her arms. The baby had thick black hair and Harry's black eyes; in a flash, Melissa realized that the baby was Harry and the parents smiling over him were his real parents, Ceryni's half-brother and his wife who had tragically drowned in the Tarali River twelve years before. Cery had immediately taken in his infant orphaned nephew and raised him as his own son, changing his name to Harrel. Melissa had met Harrel, who was a year younger than her, when she was four. She had found Harrel too much of a mouthful and had called him Harry instead. The nickname stuck.

The door opened that Harry had gone through. Ceryni stepped into the room. His skin was pale and there were dark circles under his eyes. His hair stuck up in all directions and there was a dark shadow of stubble on his chin. A thin layer of dirt covered his clothes. He looked as if he hadn't slept at all for the past twenty-four hours.

He walked towards the table, Harry right behind him. Melissa got up and moved to the other side of the table. Cery took the chair as Harry called in a man who was holding two more. He set them down, bobbed his head at Cery and left the room. Cery looked at Melissa and wordlessly gestured at one of the chairs; she took it as Harry sat down in the other.

"So," said Melissa, "what was it you asked me here for, Harry?"

"It was Da's idea," said Harry. "Ask him."

Cery leant forward. "I'll get straight to the point," he said briskly. "We put a tag on a Sachakan merchant who unwisely threatened a shop owner in our pay. One of our messengers paid him a visit and brought away several valuable looking items. Two of them were these."

Out of one of his vast coat pockets he slipped out two objects. One was a leather bound book, handsome but unremarkable. It was the other object that captivated Melissa and drew out a gasp of surprise from her. It was a long, gleaming knife whose hilt was inlaid with so many precious stones it seemed to glow with all the colours of the rainbow, plus countless others. It was beautiful.

She reached out and picked it up, gingerly fingering the hilt. She turned it over; her finger accidentally touched the blade. She felt a small but sharp pain as the metal cut through her skin. Even as she dropped the knife Cery's hand flashed seemingly out of nowhere and caught it by the hilt. Harry grasped her wrist and turned her hand over. The cut was on the tip of her index finger. It was barely visible but a tiny drop of blood oozed out and ran down the finger. Melissa pulled her hand out of Harry's grip and bit down on it, sucking the wound.

Cery set the knife down and looked at her. "You want to be careful with those," he said. "Very sharp. They have to be, because of the work they're used for."

"Which is?" Harry prompted.

Cery frowned at him, then said "Black magic."

Harry, who had been tilting his chair back, let it land on all four legs with a thud. Melissa used her feet to hastily push herself and her chair away from the table.

"Black magic?" she repeated. "How come a Sachakan merchant had it? Doesn't he know what it is?"

"He doesn't," answered Cery. "In Sachaka, only magicians know the ways and tools of their art so only one of them could have recognized it. Apparently, the merchant bought it years ago from a man who refused to say who he was. The man just took the money-not much by our standards- and practically ran away. The merchant kept it all this while because he wanted to be sure of getting a good price for it before selling it. He kept it until one day he got a golden opportunity to travel to Kyralia to sell his goods. So he brought this." Cery nodded towards the blade, a look of distaste on his face.

Melissa looked at it too. Now that she knew what it was, its beauty seemed far less alluring. It seemed more like the cruel, evil weapon it was. She knew exactly how it was used.

"They cut a person with one of those," she informed a dumbstruck Harry. "Then they draw the person's power out through the wound. That's all Mama would tell me."

"Well, I know exactly how it's done," said Cery. "It doesn't matter my knowing since I'm not a magician. But if Melissa knew," he added to his son, "she wouldn't be able to join the Guild. And I'm not going to tell you either. It's enough if you know how to recognize it."

"But how do you know, Da?" whispered Harry. "Who told you?"

"Savara," said Cery shortly. Melissa noticed his fist clench under the table. She knew exactly why the mention of Savara, the beautiful Sachakan magician who had been sent to Imardin thirteen years before, was painful to Cery. She had been instructed by her people, whom she had refused to name, to seek the help of a Thief on her mission to kill the Ichani slaves. The man she had picked was Cery. He had just acquired the status of Thief and had been dazzled by the enigmatic, playful young woman who finally showed her feelings for him the night Sonea first killed with black magic. After Akkarin's death, Savara had been ordered away from Kyralia but had gone with a promise to contact Cery soon. She never had, and although Cery had quickly gotten over his passionate feelings for her, the pain of her lie and betrayal had never left him. Neither had the feeling of anger which had instead grown with the years.

Melissa felt a stab of sympathy for Cery. It would have felt awful to have the woman he loved discard him. But he's better off without her, she thought. She seems awful. And Mama had to go through much worse when Akkarin died. Melissa remembered the haunted look in Sonea's eyes whenever she spoke about Melissa's father. She shuddered and cast her eyes about for a change of topic. Her eyes fell on the leather book.

"So what's this?" she asked, picking it up.

"A book on black magic," Cery said. "That's why I wanted you to come here, Melissa. That book is very dangerous. There's not much chance of it falling into the wrong hands, especially hands that know black magic. Still, I'd rather not take any chances with it. I want you to give it to your mother. And tell her not to read it. She knows only basic black magic. That book has much more. I don't think the other magicians would like it much."

"They wouldn't," Melissa confirmed. "But Cery, why not bring it to the Guild yourself? Or send it?"

"Like I said, I don't want to take chances with it falling into the wrong hands," replied Cery. "And that's basically anybody. Also, the Guild and the Thieves may have a truce but I still don't trust them much. Except for you and your mother," he added smiling as Melissa opened her mouth indignantly. She closed it again, then looked down at the book and nodded.

"I'll get it to Mama safely," she promised. "But I warn you, the other Higher Magicians will want to see it as well."

"I don't mind that," replied Cery. "So long as you don't show them how you got here, I'm even okay with a truth read."

"Uh, about that," began Melissa. "I'm not too good at hiding stuff in my head at the moment so Cery, I-"

She was interrupted by guffaws as both Cery and Harry choked with laughter. "Just kidding," said Cery apologetically. Then he turned serious again. "I really don't mind you showing them Melissa, because this is a room built specially for meeting magicians. They know it exists, and the way, so feel free to let them do a truth read if they don't believe you."

"Um, okay," said Melissa uncertainly, getting to her feet.

Harry followed suit. Cery handed Melissa the little book which she pocketed. Then they all left the room, Cery through the door to the room beyond and Melissa and Harry into the passage. Gol nodded to the doorman before following them.

They retraced their steps to the grille. This time Gol came through too, albeit with a little difficulty. They made their way back to the Merry Magician where Melissa tipped the stable boy who had taken Chesa and mounted her. Then only did she remember the jewelled knife.

"What are you going to do with the knife?" she asked Harry.

He shrugged. "Sell off the stones, probably. See you then, Melissa," giving her one of his grins.

"Bye, Harry," she said, smiling in return. "See you, Gol."

"Safe travels, Miss Melissa," grunted Gol.

Melissa turned Chesa around and urged her into a canter. She slipped a finger into her pocket and fingered the book. Her mother was about to get a huge surprise.