�Blowing his door inwards with a rather over-vigorous push, Bereus was first to enter the tower. The man to his right was immediately blasted by Dave and turned into a rare Eastern carpet. Similar happened to the man on Bereus� right, though he favoured a more contemporary pattern on his floor covering. The other two fell similarly, but Bereus and I managed to pull through with weaves of shielding and reach the evil Mage in person. Between us we wove a weave of Halt, stopping the Dave�s threading. In a last desperate blast the evil Mage turned Bereus into a small seed, and then was stopped, finally.
�Regrouping, I helped the four of our number first hit by the evil Mage�s magics, but try as we might, we couldn�t change poor Bereus back. Instead I potted him and kept him safe, hoping he would grow out of his seediness. As you can see, sadly, he hasn�t. Now is the time we need him most, my old master.�
�Why do we need him, master?� asked Leimar, �I thought Dave was stopped?�
�Boy,� replied Hand, despairingly, �have you learned nothing? No weave is permanent, no magic lasts forever, or even a long time, unless you are as powerful as Dave was, and even then not forever. Bereus and I did our best, but the weave would never hold for long. Now Dave is being protected by a group of rebel Mages, and any day soon the halting weave will slip open and our world will be vulnerable to his touch again. I felt the first thread slip two days ago, the rest will fall apart any time now.�
�Ah,� said Leimar, �I see, so we�re up Hrun�ria Creek without a Pinch� then, master.�
�Indeed, boy,� replied Hand, �I had hopes that you would be strong enough to replace Bereus, but it is not to be, we shall have to fight on regardless.�
�So, why do we need Bereus? He�s just a pot plant!� asked Leimar.
�That, my boy, is where you come in. Heal him, my young apprentice, if you can.�
Leimar shrugged and swiftly wove a weave of healing, whereupon a great hulking man in a cloak appeared, with some foliage dangling from his upper lip.
�At last!� boomed Bereus, �I am free! Ah, Hand, thank you for freeing me, did we get Dave?�
Hand motioned to his office:
�Bereus, you and I have to talk. Boy, go train or something, make yourself useful.�
*
Leimar retreated to the library where he attempted to do what no student has truly done before; he attempted to study without being asked to. Ok, that was an over-exaggeration, I�m sure plenty of students have studied in the past, but if I can�t mock an already over-mocked group of people, then what is the point of killing all those trees? In the library he looked up stuff about the incident to which Hand had referred: newspaper articles, modern history books, even small napkins written on by magicians in restaurants, all came under Leimar�s gaze. From these he gathered only one thing that is non-culinary related: it seemed Hand had been telling the truth. A disappointing revelation for such an odd little paragraph, but there it is. Leimar had had a hunch, and it hadn�t borne fruit. Somehow, though, he still had some lingering doubts: was his master all he seemed to be? Why had he only started having these doubts at such a comparatively late stage of the story? Why is this paragraph ended with a row of three asterisks rather than the previous single ones? Perhaps time will tell.
* * *
Leimar woke up in his bed, as you would expect of a boy of his age, and stretched, quickly healing his back as its early morning moan started to rise. As was traditional for apprentices, he had a terribly hard mattress. Slober rustled over and nudged his master�s calf affectionately, agitated for some reason. Leimar threw him a steel biscuit to placate him and set his face into thought, as he got dressed. �Why was Slober agitated at this time of the morning?� Thought he, for Slober was, as has been oft mentioned, a magical beast, and as such the disturbance was likely magical. Leimar breakfasted quickly in the servant�s hall, once again running the risk of indigestion in exchange for a small probability of being told what was going on a little sooner.
In Hand�s study things Leimar had never seen before were seen, by Leimar. Magical contraptions towering over the mages, small bugs flitting between them, odd things with letters derived from the end of the alphabet to describe them, all clustered between Hand, Bereus and four other wizards Leimar didn�t recognise.
No one noticed Leimar as he wandered in awe between these great artefacts, hugely complicated weaves throbbing in the middle of each, holding them together with their magical force. He gently prodded a small ball and it folded in upon itself, disappearing with a pop as Slober occurred in its place. Leimar felt slightly better then; he had an ally to rely on in this uncertain world.
A small dial went ping and the six older mages all turned to it, dropping their previous weaves as they did so.
�Ok,� shouted Hand, taking control, in a macho manner, �it�s game time, get dressed gentlemen.�
Each then submerged themselves with magical paraphernalia and attempted to make themselves as �businesslike� as possible. Black jumpsuits were order of the day, with glittery bits and bobs dangling from assorted belts. Hand threw a similarly adorned suit to Leimar and instructed: �Put this on boy, you�re coming with us.�
Leimar put the suit on gingerly, careful lest he set a bit or bob off, and adorned himself with a suitably masculine facial pose to fully look the part.
Once all seven were ready Hand clicked one last weave on an offensive Grissile in place and set them on their way:
�Let�s go get him, boys!�
The quiet dissenting voice at the back, complaining that they had been gentlemen only minutes before and that the demotion to boys was degrading, was swiftly silenced.
*...