The dark wood plaque on the door says Archwizard in golden letters. The Old Wizard lowers himself carefully to sit on a chair behind a massive desk. He waves at another chair, showing me to sit as well. One magical light shines behind me in the corner of the room, set next to a reading chair. A huge taxidermy eagle hangs above the desk. The bird is big enough it probably could have picked up a whole cow and flown away with it. I’ve never heard of an eagle that large. I wonder if it’s some elaborate fake put together to impress the guests. Above everything, a large window opens to the sky, the last rays of the sun peeking through the cloud cover. This office has to be on the very top of the building. I can’t see any roofs or buildings, only the sky.

  “What did you say you wanted to talk about? Did we have a meeting?”

  How old is he, really? His gaze is confused, almost imploring for me to help him out. The light in the room is dim, and he squints his eyes at me, leaning forward. I feel bad taking up the topic with him, he seems so fragile. I lean to see him behind a huge conical hat that sits between us on the desk. “Um, it’s about the war with Kerthar and the plan to end it.”

  His eyebrows droop over his eyes. “Oh, that. You did say it was important. Sad too, sad.” He smacks his mouth a couple of times. “I think I’m going to need my hat. Where did I put it?”

  His gaze wanders around the room, everywhere but the hat before him. I follow his gaze out of sympathy, not knowing if I should point out the hat to him. It’s similar to what the other wizards wear around here, but even taller, preposterously so. It’s dark blue velvet and adorned with at least as many runes as the Janitor’s uniforms have. He turns back to the desk, brows furrowed in confusion. He makes a small “ah” sound and picks up the hat, lowering it carefully down on his head. As it touches his head, it makes a sizzling sound, and his eyes roll around wildly for a second.

  His back straightens, and he rolls back his shoulders. “Who are you? What do you know of the war?” Now, his voice thrums strong and deep.

  Surprised, I press against the backrest of my chair. He snaps his hand up, gesturing with his fingers so quickly that I can’t follow the movement at all. Pinpricks of brilliant white light hover before his fingertips, furled in a claw pointed at my face.

  I push back even harder. I can feel the heat radiate from his fingers and the light makes my eyes ache. His hat hums and the smell of ozone rolls over me. The kind old man is gone, replaced by something else. His face squirms, expressions tangling together, but his eyes stay completely still, boring into me. “I’m Locke! Part of the mission to Kerthar. I was brought in by the Janitor!”

  “Which Janitor? Why are you here? What is your business with representative Corum?” The questions continue the moment I finish talking, no pause between them. The hand still hovers before my face, the light painfully bright.

  “Both! Lictor brought me but the other Janitor sent me here. I need to talk about the mission with someone on the council—“

  “Why Corum? What about the mission?”

  My heart thrums in my chest. I have never felt as outclassed. Lille, Ral, Lictor, they don’t come even close. “Someone said I should talk to her—“

  “Who?” The word is a bark, rising deep from his chest.

  I’m not sure if telling him about Astaroth would be in my best interest. I’m not sure how—

  A beam of light shoots from one of his fingers. It flashes, hitting the chair above my left shoulder. A solid afterimage hangs in my eyes, a black line cut across my vision. Around it, I see a dark circular hole burned right through the backrest. After a moment, a small wisp of smoke starts rising up from it. The smell would be pleasant around a campfire, but not here.

  “Hurry.”

  “Astaroth! He told me to talk to her.”

  “Why?”

  “He said she has the most sense on the council.”

  A smirk flashes on his face. It passes so quickly I’m not sure I really saw it. He nudges his hat with a quick flick of his hand and a blue spark shoots out from below its brim. It hits his beard and travels down it, drawing a lightning bolt down its path. “Next topic. How many Rides have you been on? Have you been here before?”

  I close my fists around the extra thumbs on my palms. “No, I haven’t! Lictor took me on a bunch, but we just trained for the mission.”

  He watches. He’s otherwise still, but his eyes flicker around like they’ve been sped up somehow. He suddenly snaps his hand into a fist around the lights, extinguishing them. He leans back and crosses his arms over his chest. “You shouldn’t be here. Something is wrong, but there’s no time to find out what. The mission must proceed, and you need to go.”

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  He’s talking so fast it’s hard to keep up. “Please! Lictor is planning to kill all the Kertharians. I want to—“

  His gaze snaps back at me. “Ah.”

  I realize my mistake too late. His fingers are a blur, as he draws the most intricate web of runes into the air that I’ve seen so far. I grab at a knife in my belt, but he flicks his hand toward me.

  My vision is smeared. Everything’s hazy, like there’s a smoky glass between me and the world. My hand is still traveling toward the knife.

  The Old Wizard stands up and zips behind me. I’m turning my eyes to follow him, but he’s back, sitting in front of me again. It’s happening much too fast to take in properly.

  The Ponytail Guy I saw earlier appears, and he and the Old Wizard talk about something. I can hear no sound but see their hands flicking and swinging around, pointing at me multiple times.

  It gets darker and then lighter again, the light from the window changing with the rising and setting of the sun.

  The Old Wizard is asleep in his chair. My hand reaches the knife.

  The clouds are gone and the light of the sun is painfully bright. It hammers into me.

  There’s a stern-looking woman talking to the wizard. I don’t see much as my eyes are practically blind from the light, but she looks enraged and keeps waving her hand at me.

  My face blisters. Colors are washed out by the blazing light, from what I kind see behind the smoke. I’m being burned alive.

  The glow of the pyramid fades.

  “—can be pretty nasty. Hey, what did I just tell you!”

  I step away from the pyramid before she can grab me again. I’m not sure if she would, but I don’t want to fall anymore. My mind is clear, my body knows the way it’s standing and how to take the step back. Sun-drying was the second worst way to die so far, but it feels like an anecdote. I’m mainly relieved that I got yanked back to the artifact according to how time passed outside of whatever the Old Wizard did to me. Who has that kind of power?

  “Couple of extra fingers is quite standard,” the Janitor says. “Maybe they are gone by the time you’re finished with this Ride.”

  The two thumbs are still sticking out from my palms. I have a sinking feeling that I have to relearn everything about shooting a bow. “I already had them the last time.”

  The Janitor pats me on the left shoulder a couple of times. “Too bad. You might be stuck with them then. You have been going even deeper?”

  I’m fed up with this discussion already. How does Lictor stand it, going through each discussion hundreds of times? No wonder he keeps looking at clouds. “Minerva told me that you can trust me. I need to get a visitor’s pass for the upper floors.”

  The Janitor’s hand stops mid-pat. “So, you have been doing this for a while?” she says slowly.

  I’m already walking toward the door to the clerk’s office. I hope I’m not leaning too hard on her codeword, but I really want to see if I can catch something new this time around. My mind churns. Plans on what to do differently, confusion about the Old Wizard and why he did what he did. I stop before reaching the door and turn to her. “Can you tell me something about the archwizard? Very old, has a really tall hat.”

  She stops and cocks her head. “Marek, he’s the leader of the council. A kind old man, most would say.”

  My eye twitches.

  “Ah, you’ve actually met him. Do try to stay on his good side. Even us Janitors can’t really keep up with him.”

  “Why would you need to?” I was supposed to rush through this part, but I can’t help getting interested in the internal workings of the city. Why would the Janitors need to ‘keep up’ with the leader of the council?

  She puts her hands in the pockets of her overalls and shrugs. “We try a lot of things.”

  I wait. She doesn’t continue. “Fine. Do you know of a guy with a red ponytail and a cloak who might visit Marek? Probably some kind of noble, definitely all kinds of annoying?”

  “Sorry, I try to stay out of politics.”

  Maybe she does. It’s time to move on. I have an idea about who to ask next.

  I make it to the landing hall a bit earlier than before and notice the stocky book-reading man hovering down toward the ground. The air is exactly as I remember from the last time, warm and heavy. I look up and spot the woman through the hole in the ceiling. She’s the one who talked with the Old Wizard when I was frozen! My plan was to ask the stocky merchant about the Ponytail Guy, but that idea gets scrapped as I notice her.

  “Representative Corum!” I shout up.

  She’s already turned away, but turns to look back and down at me. Even from this far away, it’s clear she doesn’t appreciate being shouted at. Still, she responds to the name. I was right.

  I ignore the people looking at me and whispering with each other and push the button on the disc. This time I know what will happen and prepare accordingly. I push with my legs softly, taking careful aim at the hole above.

  The belly of the stocky man nearly brushes on my nose as he floats down past me.

  “Enjoy your book,” I say and wink when our faces meet. It’s silly, but why shouldn’t I. All this is dour enough already. If I want to become a proper adventurer, I better start practicing my quips.

  I don’t see his reaction as I turn my gaze back up to the woman. Corum is looking down with her mouth drawn into a thin line. There’s some resemblance to the Old Wizard, now that I get a good look at her. More in the look in her eyes than anything physical. Her hair is cut short and there’s a hint of grey already in it. On her, the color brings to mind steel instead of frailty.

  I really hope she’s not in on the conspiracy, or whatever it is going on here. I thought back and did the math, and this is my last Ride before I’m back in the real world. I have to get it right this time. I press my fists closed, hiding the extra thumbs as well as I can.

  “Who are you?” she asks me, as I hover past her.

  I don’t know how to stop, but I manage to tilt to look down at her. “My name is Locke. I’m part of the mission to Kerthar. I have to talk to you!”

  She watches me float higher. Below, everyone has gathered to look up at us through the hole. She waves her hand.

  Even this high up, I can see the disappointment on their faces when the hole snaps shut.