EPILOGUE

“So as you can see,” Titus explained to the Emperor, “it is sheer folly to have the colleges divided amongst themselves like this. Far better to unify the eight. We could become so much more powerful. In the service of the Empire, of course.”

The Emperor nodded and cast his eyes down the table where the heads of the eight colleges had been gathered. Although they had already feasted, the boards were still bent beneath the weight of the food that remained. Everything from roast boar to potted rhinox, to honeyed wasps had been laid on for this, the crowning moment of Titus’ career.

“I see what you mean,” the Emperor nodded, obviously convinced by Titus, “and who better than yourself, my friend, to lead such a mighty college? But one thing concerns me, what would these other master’s say to being under your command?” The assembled arch magisters all spoke at once. Although their words were different, their intentions were all the same. As one man they clamoured to be led by Titus, the greatest amongst them.

The Emperor smiled indulgently.

“Very well, then,” he said, raising a hand for silence. “That is how it will be. All of the colleges will become as one, and our friend here will become master of all.”

The applause started at the far end of the table and rolled its way up, washing over Titus’ beaming face. It was just as his new lord had said it would be, and it was wonderful.

“So you see, gentlemen,” Grunwalder said, “the subject is perfectly happy.”

He stood back so that his fellows could peer through the window of the cell. It was small, barely big enough to lie down in, and the only light came from a lantern that was kept behind another tiny window.

One of the assembled wizards peered through the viewing slit. Titus sat on the straw in one corner. He had lost weight in the last month or so: a lot of weight. It seemed that food held no more interest for him than the rest of the world. It occurred to the wizard that, had he started his confinement as a thinner man, he would already have starved to death.

“He does seem happy,” the wizard said, stepping back so that another could watch the traitor, “but what is that he keeps saying?”

“Today?” Grunwalder asked. “I’m not sure. It’s usually something to do with being ‘supreme arch magister’, sometimes Emperor. Either way, he enjoys the idea.”

“I bet he does,” the wizard said, “and so he has no idea that he has been pacified?”

“None at all,” Grunwalder said, “which is why the spell is unbreakable. Who can fight an illusion that they don’t even know exists?”

“Who indeed?” the wizard agreed.

Deciding that they had seen enough, the council turned and followed Grunwalder out of the dungeons. Behind them, the lantern that lit Titus’ cell flickered and died.

It made no difference. Safe within the sealed depths of his mind, Titus joyfully continued to starve to death.

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