He crossed the room to stand before the window. He was near the top of one of the observation towers, two hundred feet above the courtyard below,. The only place that was higher was the lookout platform above him where, in centuries past, sentries wrapped up against the howling wind had blown into their freezing hands as they looked out over the snow covered landscape for any sign of an approaching enemy.

     The climate had warmed since then. The great ice sheets had retreated north, but the view was largely the same, merely a little greener, and Tak liked to imagine hordes of armour clad kelns marching towards them down the valley on their way to raid the scattered human townships beyond, with only this single castle to stop them. What would an army look like, marching down the valley? he wondered. Hundreds of the almost human soldiers in gleaming armour, their scimitars gleaming in the sunlight, in formation six or eight abreast... Molos had described such battles to him as he recounted what he knew of the castle's history, but Tak had trouble imagining such large numbers of people. The crowd in the market town of Jalla was still the largest number of people he'd ever seen in one place.

     The door opened behind him and Trobo entered. Solemn and expressionless and still wearing his uniform. The only clothes he owned as far as Tak could tell, but showing no sign of dirt or wear. Tak had never seen the houseman wearing anything else, and nor would he in all the years he was destined to live there.

     It was as Philip had said the first time he'd met him. He never seemed to be off duty. Several times Molos Gomm had called for him in the middle of the night to perform some minor errand, and the houseman had always appeared moments later. Fully dressed, ready and alert, as if he'd been just down the corridor waiting for the command. Never any sign of sleepiness, as if he'd been called from his bed. Never a crease or undone button as if he'd dressed in a hurry. And never the slightest trace of any emotion, no matter what demands were made of him. Such perfection simply wasn't human, and it scared Tak in a way that a whole troop of shologs wouldn't have.

     The worse thing was how the houseman would never meet his gaze. Never look him in the eyes. He had the scary idea that, if he ever did, he would see that there was nothing behind those eyes. No intelligence, no humanity. Nothing. Just an empty head, like the pumpkin lanterns he and Laira had liked to make at harvest time. A mere shell pretending to be a human being.

     "The master is ready for you now," Trobo said. He stood aside to clear the doorway.

     Tak nodded and preceded him down the tightly wound spiral staircase, his shoulders bumping the damp stone walls on either side. The houseman only followed him as far as ground level, though, then turned back towards the keep to continue with his seemingly endless duties. Tak went the rest of the way to the courtyard alone.

     Both wizards were there, waiting for him, and Tak made an effort to cross the open space slowly and deliberately like Trobo, to conceal the nervousness he felt. This was it. If he got this right, in just a few minutes there would be a third wizard in the castle. If he got it wrong, though...

     Molos Gomm had warned him again and again how dangerous a misfire could be, even for this, the simplest and easiest spell of all. Magic was inherently unpredictable, he'd been told. If it escapes from your control there's no telling what form it might take. That was why he would be casting the spell out in the open air, where a misfire would harm nothing and no-one except himself.

     The two wizards were standing close together, talking in low voices, and Tak waited with growing impatience and unease for them to end their conversation while the cold wind blew through his thin gown and raised goosepimples on his skin. He wrapped his arms around is body and tried not to shiver.

     Why did neither of them show any sign of the cold? He knew for a fact that Philip wore no more than he did. Molos Gomm occasionally liked to watch while his two apprentices removed their robes and pleasured each other, yet the young man seemed as comfortable in the chilly, gusty wind that flapped his gown around his sandaled ankles as if he were in his own bedchamber. Was he simply used to the climate, or was he using some kind of magic to keep himself warm? Either way, they seemed unaware that their newest recruit was turning blue, or maybe they just didn't care. Maybe it was part of the test.

     His teeth began chattering, and he began to fear that he wouldn't be able to speak the magic words properly. They want me to fail! he thought in a sudden sick fear. They're bored with me already and they want to get rid of me. They want me to be killed or turned into something awful. Anger welled up inside him. Rage at the thoughtless way they were treating him, and he swore to himself that he wasn't going to fail. He'd show them! With an effort of will he made himself ignore the cold. He stopped his teeth chattering and lowered his arms to his sides. A sudden icy blast froze him to the bone but he ignored it with a heroic effort and concentrated on the two wizards in front of him. He vowed that he would stand there until he froze solid if that was what it took.

     "Ah, young Tak," said Molos Gomm, deigning to notice him at last. "Ready to cast your first spell?"

     "Yes, master," Tak replied, and he felt proud of the steadiness of his voice. His arms kept wanting to wrap themselves around his chest again and he controlled them with an effort. He realised he could no longer feel his fingers and hoped they were still nimble enough for the hand movements.

     "In your own time, then."

     Tak nodded and brought the words to the forefront of his mind. He flexed his fingers experimentally. Everything seemed to be in working order. He took a deep breath to steady his nerves and spoke the words.

     His trained fingers obeyed him, and their rapid, dextrous movements guided and moulded the tendrils of magic force flowing from his body. He held his breath and his heart missed a beat as he waited to see if the spell performed as expected.

     He let his breath out in a sigh of relief as a glowing ball of light formed in front of his pointing finger, hanging motionless as if fixed to the end of an invisible rod. He moved his finger and the ball of light moved as well, always remaining six inches beyond his closely trimmed fingernail. He waved it back and forth, laughing in delight and relief, then brought it close to his face so he could examine it closely.

     "Careful!" warned Molos Gomm, however. "It could still fail, and you don't want it too close to you if it does. Better let it lapse while you're still in control of it."

     Tak nodded and lowered his hand. The ball of light hung in front of him for a moment longer, then came apart in a tangle of luminous threads and streamers that fell and went out. It was over! He'd passed the test!

     Then he noticed Philip, staring at him with anger and envy, and he suddenly knew that the elder apprentice's first attempt at casting this spell had failed. Knew it as surely and certainly as if Philip had told him himself. He'd been hoping Tak would fail. He still feels the shame and humiliation of that failure, Tak thought, and if I'd failed the first time as well it would have made him feel better, but instead I've made him feel worse. He's not going to forget this in a hurry! Oh Gods, don't let me have made an enemy out of him!

     So worried was he by this possibility that the next two times he cast it, the next day and the day after, he made deliberate mistakes that caused the spell to fail, making sure both Molos Gomm and Philip were there to see it. Molos Gomm grew angry with him, demanding in a loud voice that he keep training until he got it right, but there was an amused sneer on Philip's face that relieved him considerably.

     As soon as the grey wizard had stormed off to one of his laboratories, Tak played his master stroke and humbly asked Philip what he thought he was doing wrong. The older apprentice stared in surprise, but then he began to almost glow with satisfied contentment and self importance as he lectured his younger colleague on the importance of fingertip control, making the movements with his own hands and making Tak copy them.

     This was what he'd wanted all along, Tak realised as he repeated the complicated gestures he'd already mastered. He wanted Tak to acknowledge his superiority in magic. He wanted reassurance that Tak wasn't going to supplant him as Molos Gomm's successor, which, in fact, he eventually did.

     Looking back in hindsight, Tak realised that he was much more of a natural at spellcasting than Philip ever was. The older apprentice had been chosen for his looks rather than his wizard potential and he had to struggle every step of the way, while Tak picked it up as easily as breathing. By the time Philip died, Tak had almost equaled him in magical prowess and would no doubt have left him far behind over the next few years.

     That was still in the future, though. For now, Tak was still terribly vulnerable, and still bound to obedience by the hypnosis spells. Any time Philip grew alarmed at Tak's progress and feared for his position, he only had to order Tak to throw himself from the highest tower in the castle, trusting that Molos Gomm would see it only as a tragic accident. So long as Tak continued to seek help and guidance from his older colleague, though, Philip would be reassured of their respective positions and Tak's subservience would give him the feeling of superiority and power he craved.

     Molos still only rarely allowed the older apprentice out of the castle, and in the confines of the old, empty fortress Philip lived forever under his master's shadow. Even Trobo overawed him, although the houseman obeyed him in every way that didn't contradict the grey wizard's orders. He badly needed someone to feel superior to, and Tak had no choice but to fit himself into that role.