XI
The master's room once seemed out of place. Another memory, a recreation. Destroying it would have meant nothing. A bed, unused, a lounging chair, bookshelves filled with tomes… beyond it, a library. Various artefacts; an astrosphere, rugs, a vase, a spyglass… none of which held any meaning. He searched the bedside drawer. He knew this room, had lived in it between cycles. He had bathed here, had his hair washed by dryads, worn finery. He had listened, strapped down upon that table. Were they his memories? It did not matter.
He lifted the old spellbook, a childhood gift. It was familiar. His own. Memories of Nashkel… a child's spells. No, that belonged to another time, another person. He left the book where it was.
Through an antechamber, the portal awaited.
"So you have escaped, godchild. You are as resourceful as I had thought. It is as I anticipated."
He did not answer. A ring of corpses and scattered body parts surrounded his captor, the same that had attacked him in the compound below. Sunlight, the first he had felt in a lifetime, hid itself behind cloud. The wide, open sky brought a surge of terror, but it was distant. He stood unchained before the him. He should have been afraid, but to do other than accept the inevitable meant he had not learnt his lessons. But he had, and learned well.
"Will you challenge me?"
The mocking was slight to all others, but not to him. The geas that bound him was stronger than any incantation.
"Master."
Cowled figures arrived.