“Nightfang is gone.” Triss said, keeping her voice low so Percival wouldn’t hear her in his tent.

  “What?” Reginald stood and looked around, scanning the horizon. “Did she go for a ride or something?”

  A pang of guilt began eating at Triss. She’d told Naiela about Pratorin. Was that why she left? Was she hunting him down alone? Was she frightened? “Damn it.” She whispered to herself. This was all her fault.

  “I don’t see her anywhere. Maybe she went behind the temple?” Reginald said. “Watch the bacon. I’ll run and check.” He didn’t wait for her reply, dashing off so quickly the wind of his passing whirled the short grasses around him. Within a few seconds he disappeared around the side of the massive stone structure.

  Triss sat down beside the fire. She picked up the wooden spatula Reginald had been using and pushed the bacon around in the pan, not really paying attention. What was she going to tell Percival? “Damn it. I was supposed to be responsible for her.”

  “Responsible?” Another voice cut through her thoughts. She jumped, dropping the spatula and spinning to face Porten. He raised an eyebrow, then pointed at the fire. “You’ll want to rescue that.”

  Triss looked back, and saw that the spatula had fallen half in and half out of the fire. Bright orange flames danced on the handle, and the handle was slowly darkening from pale brown to dark as the fire ate away at it. “Shit!” She exclaimed, snatching the spatula before it caught fire completely. The wood was warm in her hand, but not yet hot. “Thanks.” She said sheepishly.

  “Think nothing of it.” The wizard said. He took a seat beside the fire, indicating she should sit as well. She did. “Now then, I assume the other pretty girl has left us, yes? That’s the responsibility you mentioned?”

  Triss frowned. “You’re a pretty good guesser.”

  Porten winked. “If you want to know the truth, I’ve been awake for nearly an hour now. Overheard everything. But it never hurts to have people think you’re smarter than you are.”

  “Why give it away then?”

  “We dark wizards need to stick together, you know. You’re Percy’s apprentice. It behooves all of us to make sure you become a great dark wizard.”

  Triss snorted a laugh. “Don’t let Reginald hear you call him that.”

  Porten grinned. “I’m too old to worry about upsetting people. Now then, the pretty girl left, yes? The council wizard?”

  Triss nodded. “Yeah, looks like it. Her tent is empty and her horse is gone.” Triss took a deep breath. “Percival is going to be furious with me.”

  “Don’t worry about that cantankerous old fool. I’ll make sure he doesn’t do anything too bad.” The grin fell away from his face, and he leaned forward. “I don’t think you’d be this worried unless you had a reason to be. Beyond her leaving, I mean.” He raised a questioning eyebrow.

  “What do you mean?” Triss asked, trying to seem innocent.

  “Just because I want people to think I’m smarter than I am, doesn’t mean I’m not smart. What did you do?”

  Triss debated lying to the wizard. If she told him the truth, he might take back his offer to help. Porten stayed still, waiting for her to speak. Triss sighed. Maybe it was best to just rip the bandage off, as it were. “I told her about Pratorin. Just his name, I don’t actually know anything about him.”

  Porten leaned back, steepling his fingers in front of him. “Hmm. I can see why that would make her leave. Or, at least, a few reasons why she may have left.”

  “Why?” Triss asked. “Who is this Pratorin guy?”

  Porten breathed in deep through his nose before replying. “First, take the bacon off the fire. It’s starting to burn.”

  Triss whirled around, and discovered the old wizard was right. The edges of the bacon were curling up and turning black, and the unpleasant smell of charred meat was beginning to join the scent of bacon. “Shit!” She cursed, grabbing the handle of the pan and pulling it off the fire. She set the pan down on the grass and searched around for a plate to put the bacon on. Porten cleared his throat, and when she looked, he was holding out a plate for her. She smiled gratefully and quickly moved the bacon from the hot pan to the plate.

  “Pratorin. Hmm.” Porten said as she finished moving everything over. “Sometimes known as Pratorin the Ever-wise. He was one of the founding members of the wizard council.”

  “Wait.” Triss interrupted. “The council has been ruling for like, what, a thousand years? How old is he?”

  “Not quite a thousand. Nine hundred and change now. Pratorin would be a few years older than that. I don’t think he’s hit a thousand quite yet, but he must be getting close.”

  Triss’s head spun. She knew Percival was old, much older than a normal human would live, but a thousand years? “How old is Percival?”

  “That’s for him to tell you, not me. He’s younger than me though. I’m eight hundred and seventy two.”

  Triss’s jaw dropped. Her mouth silently repeated the wizard’s age. “Is that normal?” She finally managed.

  “For a wizard of the primary order, yes. A thousand years is typically the maximum though. Honestly, I believe that’s what Pratorin is up to. He’s trying to extend his life.”

  “A thousand years? Extend his life? How?”

  Porten shook his head. “Too much to explain. If I had all day, I might have enough time to get you a basic understanding. It has to do with demons. Some demons have the power to grant an extended life. Reaching those demons is quite difficult, and even if you do they have things they want. That’s what he’s up to. Ritual sacrifice of wizards who have had dealings with demons.” He paused, fixing Triss with a serious look. “Demons don’t like being used. Remember that. They will always seek revenge if they can.”

  The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  Triss nodded. “Understood. Don’t play with demons.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t go that far. They can be quite useful if you know what you’re doing. You just need to remember, they have long memories. If the opportunity arises, they’ll find a way to end you.” Porten smiled. “I’m sure Percy will teach you all about that someday.”

  Triss nodded slowly. “Maybe, yeah.” She thought about what Porten had said. “So what about all that would make Naiela leave?”

  “Well, there’s a few reasons. It may be that she is frightened, though I rank that as the least likely option. She may not have believed you, or, most likely, she’s gone to join him.”

  “She’s going to join him?” Triss asked, unable to keep the horror out of her voice.

  “I should think, yes. Pratorin is held in high regard by the council wizards. Of course, as I said, she may not have believed you.”

  “Why not?”

  Porten smiled, and it occurred to Triss that he was guiding the conversation in a certain direction. She wasn’t sure why, or where he was going though. “Because, very few know he’s still alive.” His smile grew wider, and his eyes sparkled with expectation.

  “Why?”

  “Well, most of them don’t know that wizards can live that long.”

  Triss frowned. “I’ve met wizards of the second and third orders. Naiela was third order. I would think that would be common knowledge.”

  “You’d think so!” Porten said, laughing. “If they knew! If they knew!” He cackled loudly.

  “What in the blazes is so funny?” Percival’s muffled voice drifted through the thin walls of his tent. “It’s too damn early to be cackling you half-witted fool!”

  Porten only cackled louder, and Percival continued to curse and insult the other wizard as he made his way out of the tent. “Good morning, Percy.” Porten said when Triss’s master appeared.

  Pervical narrowed his eyes, glaring at Porten. “What’s got you in such a mood this morning?”

  Porten shrugged. “Just having a conversation with your apprentice. She’s a sharp one.”

  “Hah!” Percival barked a short laugh. “Sharp as butter, maybe.” He made his was over and sat at the fire. “Where’s Reginald? He should have breakfast ready by now.”

  “Off looking for your wayward wizard.” Porten replied.

  “Wayward wizard? Oh, the council girl. Left in the night did she?” Percival said in a bored tone. “I told you, didn’t I? One night only. You owe me a silver.”

  Porten sighed and pulled a small, shiny coin from somewhere inside his robe. He flicked it towards Percival, who caught it in the air and made it disappear into his own robes. “I thought for sure she’d make it two. With the temper she had…well. No matter.”

  Triss stared at Percival, jaw slightly open. “You knew she would leave?” She asked.

  “Hmm? Oh, well I expected it. She didn’t seem the type to stick around for a real battle.” He rolled his shoulders a few times before cracking his neck. “That blasted lizard better hurry up. I’m getting hungry.”

  “But…But. You said I was responsible for her!” Triss exclaimed.

  “I said you were responsible for her for her. I didn’t say I thought you’d succeed. We’ll discuss a punishment later. For now, go fetch that damn draconic and get breakfast going. I’m starving. And close your mouth. You’ll catch flies that way.”

  Triss snapped her jaw shut and glared at Percival, who studiously ignored her. “Asshole.” She muttered. She stood and began walking, going the opposite way around the temple form where Reginald had gone. He rounded the corner a few seconds before she reached it.

  “Did you find her?” Reginald asked, breathing heavily.

  “No. Apparently Percival thought she would leave last night anyways. He even had a bet with Porten about it.”

  A look of annoyance flashed across Reginald’s face. “That dusty old bastard. I should summon a herd of cows into his tent tonight.”

  “You can do that?” Triss asked in genuine surprise.

  Reginald shook his head. “No. At least, I don’t know of a spell that will do it. Maybe I can find a herd somewhere and tempt them with some food.” He sighed. “Well, nothing to do about it now. Let’s go get breakfast.”

  Jeurgen was also up when they made it back, and he had a large, silvery contraption sitting over the fire. It looked like a stock pot with several pipes wrapped around it, sealed on the top with a shining silver dome. Runic symbols covered the sides of the device, and steam hissed noisily out of two small holes in the top. He cast a quick, dismissive glance their way and then focused on the contraption.

  “If you want breakfast, you’ll need to move that thing.” Reginald said to the skeletal wizard.

  “You should have had it ready before I got up.” Juergen replied. “You’ll need to wait your turn.”

  Reginald sighed and plopped on the ground. Then he suddenly looked around. “What did you do with the bacon?”

  “It’s right here.” Porten pointed at a plate loaded with crisp strips of meat. They were only a little blackened.

  “Your turn.” Juergen said, pulling the device off the fire. He set it on a flat rock nearby, then pulled out a copper pot with a pouring spout. He placed it under the end of one of the pipes and turned a dial Triss hadn’t noticed before. Thick, brown-black coffee started to drip into the pot, filling the air with it’s bitter scent. Triss’s mouth began to water involuntarily.

  “Percival. We should check the circles before we eat.” Juergen said. “Porten, you too.”

  Percival sighed and stood. “You’re just as much of a pain in the ass as you were…” he trailed off, casting a glance at Triss. “Never mind. Let’s go.”

  “Have fun!” Porten said. “I’ll stick around here and make sure the eggs don’t burn.”

  Juergen fixed Porten with a cold, steady glare. Porten sighed and stood, muttering under his breath. The three ancient wizards walked off, heading towards an dark opening in the temple.

  Triss watched them as they disappeared into the yawning black of the temple, then sat back with a sigh. "We're screwed, aren't we." She said.

  "Why?" Reginald asked as he stirred the eggs in the pan. The smell made her stomach growl.

  "Naiela is gone, and she's probably going to join that Pratorin guy. At least, that's what Porten said."

  "So? She doesn't have any real power. It won't make a difference." Reginald scooped some eggs onto a plate, tossed a couple strips of bacon on, and handed it to her. "Get some food and coffee into you. It'll all seem better once you eat."

  Triss sighed and took the plate. The eggs were good, but the bacon was already cold. She forced down a piece of the burnt, congealed meat and gagged. "That's nasty." She walked over to her tent and grabbed a metal cup she'd brought with her, filling it from the pot under Juergen's contraption. It was dark and bitter, much stronger than she was used to. "And the coffee sucks too. What a morning."

  She sipped at the hot brew, forcing it down. After a while, she got used to the taste. She finished the mug, and considered getting more, but the pot was barely a quarter full. She decided it would be best to leave some for the others. They would be back soon, right? She frowned. She felt odd. Energetic. She could almost swear she could feel her fingers…buzzing? No, that was the wrong word.

  The three wizards reappeared before she could put a name to the feeling, arguing loudly with each other as they approached. Well, Juergen and Percival were arguing. Porten seemed to be interjecting occasionally, and from the reactions Triss guessed he was just egging the two on. “The ordination is set to magnetic north. It won’t effect the spell.” Percival was saying.

  “It’s four degrees off true north. That will certainly effect the power scaling.” Juergen replied firmly.

  “I offered to redraw it. I’ve offered to redraw it seven times you cantankerous skeleton. I’ll go redraw it now if it’ll shut you up!”

  “We don’t have time for it now.” Juergen said.

  Percival threw his hands up in frustration. “We would have if you had accepted it any of the other times we talked about it!”

  “I don’t need it redrawn. I need you to understand why it’s a problem.”

  “You’re the problem!”

  Juergen shook his head slowly. “You haven’t changed. I need you to understand the issue before you can fix it.” He grabbed the pot of coffee and pulled a tiny metal cup from somewhere inside his tan robes. Then he frowned. “Who drank the coffee?”

  “Oh, sorry. I didn’t realize it made so little.” Triss said apologetically. “I only took one cup.”

  Juergen raised one eyebrow. Percival rolled his eyes. Porten grinned.

  “What?” Triss asked.

  “That’s not normal coffee.” Percival said. “One small cup like Juergen has there is the equivalent of four regular cups.”

  Triss blinked several times in rapid succession. “How many is a mug then?