It was late evening the last shreds of daylight filtered through the single window. In the distance was the rumble of a storm. In the class room Pyre sat at a wooden table across from Master Uber. One by one the older man said a word or a phrase in the Ancient Tongue and Pyre had to verbally translate it. If he passed this oral examination he would wear a green cowl with his robe like Rube and Wilm. He had studied every free moment he had. It kept Fand from his thoughts. Master Uber looked at the slate he held in his hands and said, “EIUI Kavos.”

Pyre knew this one. He translated, “I am sufficient.”

Master Uber smiled. “Good work, Apprentice Holz.” Quickly, his eyes scanned down the slate and he said, “You have done remarkably well. I am pleased with your progress.”

“Thank you Sir.”

“You are most welcome.” He pointed at the slate and said, “Always remember that last phrase.”

“Sir?”

There was a strange light in Master Uber’s eyes. He said, “EIUI Kavos. Life has proven to me that the Keeper is sufficient. I pray your life bears this out as well.” He rose from the table. He came and stood behind Pyre and placed his hand on Pyre’s head. Softly he uttered the prayer, “Eyeew’ oos tekvov.” (Have mercy upon Thy child.) He removed his hand. Pyre stood and turned to him. For one brief instant he looked into Pyre’s eyes. It was enough to communicate to Pyre that Master Uber was part of the Purge. He said, “You are dismissed.”

Pyre bowed to Master Uber and exited into the empty hallway. His footsteps echoed on the stone floor. As he walked a peculiar and unfamiliar sensation took hold of him. Something was wrong, very wrong. Someone was trying to communicate with him, but they were too weak to break through. Pyre stopped at the door. He bent his mind toward the one that was trying to grasp his. Just as he was about to intercept it the door swung open. Two large guards entered the hall. These were not ordinary guards but Wardens. Their uniforms were black with a slash of red on their right sleeves. They were special emissaries of the Council that took care of high priority assignments. To Pyre's complete shock, they grabbed hold of him.

The big burly one said, "You are under arrest."

Pyre did not have to ask for what. This either had to do with The Purge or Fand. Fear shot through him. His life was in danger and he knew it. As hard as he could, he twisted his body in an effort to break free. A large open hand hit the right side of his face. The sound of his spine and jaw popping rang in his ears. He tried again, but they had him fast. Another blow was dealt him. Pyre felt like a doll caught in a jackal’s mouth. The brawniest Warden held him still while the other snapped manacles on his hands and feet. The taste of his own blood filled his mouth. He was hoisted off his feet. Every reaction was wailing to be released, but he did not give way to panic. It would serve no purpose in this moment. He forced himself to focus on the moment at hand.

The Wardens carried him out of the university. The dark clouds had rolled in and a sheet of water was descending. It was cold, like ice when it hit Pyre's face. Lightening illumined the Common. Pyre saw Apprentices watching him from doorways and windows. At first he had no sense of direction and then he knew where he was headed. The Inner Sanctum. The brawny Warden banged on the door. Pyre heard Jerue’s voice boom, “Enter.” The heavy doors swung open without assistance. Behind a small wooden lectern Jerue stood. A single candle burned on the lectern. Weird shadows danced on the curtained walls. There were others in the Sanctum but it was too dark to see who they were. The Head Council man's body was tense and his eyes liquid black. He held something in his hands. The Wardens thrust Pyre into the circle below the skylight. The Inner Sanctum doors slammed shut.

Through the skylight a flash of lightening cast Jerue in glowing silver. He didn’t look human. Pyre’s heart lurched to an erratic rhythm. Jerue thrust a book into the air. It looked like the Book of Rituals Zog had stolen him. Jerue asked, “Do you know how this book came to be in Zog Geworden’s possession?”

A lie was necessary and Pyre knew he was a poor liar. Words would betray him so he shook his head.

In a cutting voice Jerue said, “Speak! You gave it to him.”

Pyre could tell the truth here. “No. I did not. I would not.”

Jerue’s eyes seemed to pry into his soul. He held the book up and banged it down on the lectern. The candle wavered. He called out, “Loren forward.”

From the outer shadows, Loren appeared. In his hands was Pyre’s treasure box. As he walked passed Pyre, he did not look at him. Jerue took the box and opened it. He pulled out the lock of Fand’s hair. With a simple flick of his fingers a wisp of black smoke disintegrated the lock of hair. Grief tore through Pyre. He most likely would never see Fand again, and now the one memento he had of her, was gone. From the box Jerue extracted a letter. Pyre recognized it. It was the letter he had found in Zog’s prayer book. The one Jerue had purposefully given him after Zog was found dead.

With careless fingers, Jerue opened the letter. He cleared his throat and read loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. His voice bit into Pyre as each word was pronounced. Confusion swirled inside of him as Jerue read, “Dear Fand, Tonight, when I saw you, I knew I had been made to love you. I never expected to feel anything so strong for another. Then, there you were, dancing at the harvest festival, so lovely. You stole my heart, and I shall never get it back. ” The Head Councilman looked up from the letter at Pyre. His eyes were steady and lightless. He asked, “Did you write this letter?”

“No. Fand’s father wrote that letter to her mother.”

Jerue held the sheet of parchment up. He pointed his finger at the last line and said, “Isn’t this your signature?”

It was. Most peculiar of all was that the handwriting was his own. Pyre bit his lip. This was not good. This was the work of bad magic. He said, “I don’t know who planted this, but I never wrote such a letter to Fand.”

“Liar.” Jerue folded the letter and handed it and the book to Loren. To the Wardens he said, “Take him to Block Nine.”

Pyre had heard about Block Nine. It was where they kept lunatics, enemies of the Council and assassins.

Jerue’s eyes narrowed, he shouted, “Open!” The doors opened. The Wardens took hold of Pyre’s arms and pulled him outside.

Apprentices, servants and even a few elders had come out to see who was being interrogated on this rainy night. When lightening flashed Pyre tried to find some sympathy in the faces of those who watched him. Rube lifted his chin to him. It seemed to be a gesture of courage, or was it rejection, Pyre wasn’t sure. Thunder boomed overhead. All at once Pyre felt the weak connection trying to grab hold of his brain again. Only three words reached him, ‘Keep secrets safe’ and then the sensation faded. Did this refer to Fand or to the Purge, or both?

Through the down pour, the silhouette of the The Prison loomed. Pyre had never even been near this building and now he was being taken to it. At the gated entrance, one of twelve guards opened the iron gate. The Warden's carried Pyre through gate and across the stone court yard. A second set of twelve guards stood the barred doors of the prison. A guard stepped forward and unbolted the door. Pyre was taken inside. Torch light flickered. A bored clerk sat at the entry desk He immediately came to attention when he saw the Wardens and Pyre.

The burley Warden said, "Accommodations for Pyre Holz."

"Ready and waiting." The clerk motioned for one of the guards keeping watch over the heavy iron door. One guard unbolted the door. It swung open. The smells of human excrement, mice, mildew and rats was over powering. Pyre was carried through the door into a hall with a double row of barred cells. Pyre felt eyes upon him. He could hear the whispers of men. The Warden crossed the length of the cell block and then turned down a narrow hall that lead to a descending stone staircase. Rumor had it that cells below the earth were windowless and pitch dark. Below the stench of vermin and excrement were much worse. Pyre was sure he was about to puke.

Six guards were posted outside Block Nine. One stepped forward. Pyre could not make out his features in the wavering torch light. He took note of Pyre and said, "This way please," and unbolted the door. A denser wave of hellish smells filled Pyre's nostrils. Utter darkness lay beyond that door. The panic inside of Pyre rose and crested. A peculiar moment of silence passed through him. The Wardens holding Pyre thrust him into the cell. The door slammed behind him. A tiny slice of light came through the crack at the base of the door. Pyre knelt down beside it. It wasn’t much, but it was light. The entrance door slammed shut. All that remained was utter darkness.

At the sound of rats scurrying Pyre drew his limbs tightly to him. Rats down here were likely hungry and not above taking a jaw full of living flesh. Master Uber’s words echoed in his brain. Had the man known he was about to be arrested? Once again panic began to rise in him. He hated closed in spaces. He hated the dark even more. He had been set up just like Petran Schon had, just like Zog had. Zog had tried to warn him, but he would not listen. If only he had listened. Keeper his mother would die of mortification once word got out he had been arrested. Damn Jerue!

Unbidden the last phrase of his examination came to mind. EIUI Kavos. Pyre tried to shut it out of his brain. How could he turn to a Divine Being that cared so little for him or those he loved? Over and over the phrase repeated itself. All at once Pyre realized, this was not some phrase his own brain was repeating someone was sending it to him. He stilled his thoughts. The words, You have not been forgotten, came to him. There was no way for Pyre to be certain of the validity of this message. Still he could choose cling to hope or despair. Which would it be? He closed his eyes and began to pray. The repetition of familiar words was at first difficult, then the words began to ease some of the fear in his body and his mind. The words did not remove it, but they gave him enough leverage to just hold on, one moment at a time.