For the first time in a long while, Alex Roth was barely paying attention during a class.

Now, that wasn’t to say that he really needed to pay much attention in Magic Lore: even in year two of the course—which dealt with advanced history, physics and philosophy—since the Mark helped him absorb the material like a sponge.

If he really wanted to, he could have used it to recall information that he’d only paid minimal attention to during the lecture. As long as he attended the class, he could daydream all he wanted, then use the Mark to retrieve the professor’s material later.

If he combined that with speed-reading and a quick scan of the information in his textbooks, he could probably teach himself the entire course—and part of next year’s—in under a month.

Maybe less.

Still, Alex Roth would never be so disrespectful that he would ignore one of his professor's lectures after they’d made the effort and taken their time putting it together. And—despite what many of the other students thought—Magic Lore was actually fascinating to him.

So, for him not to be paying attention in class, something very odd or very wrong had to be going on.

Today?

It was both.

Alex sat in the back row of the lecture hall beside Khalik and Thundar, his pen idly tapping a page and his mouth silently moving, repeating the incantation for Planar Doorway.

He wasn't trying to cast the spell, he was trying to master the incantation’s syllables. After nearly two weeks of feeling like he was repeatedly bashing his head against a stonewall with the spell, he would have gladly done anything for a breakthrough.

Muttering, he looked down at his notebook, focused on the single number that he’d written in the centre of an otherwise blank page:

17%.

Two weeks of effort and he’d only managed to master seventeen percent of Planar Doorway’s spell array.

‘This is bloody ridiculous,’ he thought, frustration growing, resisting the urge to snap his pen in two. ‘All of this mysterious power inside me—helping me with all the summoning spells I want—and it can’t get me through this?’

In truth, the mysterious power was the only reason he’d gotten as far with the spell as he had.

The task that he’d taken on wasn’t easy; trying to break through to fourth-tier spells using the most complex spell he’d ever tried to cast in such a short space of time. Meanwhile, he was also juggling classes, time at the Research Castle, getting another dungeon core to continue his work with Shale—which he’d finally gotten less than three days ago—training with his merry band of mercenaries while they roomed at the Whetstone Tavern—facilitated by Baelin’s teleportation spells—and trying his damndest not to go completely insane. Meditation was his best friend lately.

He actually saw it as a small miracle that he’d even gotten as far as he had with the spell.

But he didn’t need a small miracle.

He needed a big one.

‘At this rate, I’ll have less than fifty percent of the spell down by the time we head to Cretalikon. And I really want to know that teleportation spell if I’m going into a bloody demon maze.’ He brooded, looking toward the front of the class at some of his classmates in the lecture hall. There were fewer who weren’t engaged than in first year Magic Lore, but quite a few still appeared intent on paying attention to literally anything rather than the voice of the professor.

‘Oh come on,’ he thought. ‘The least you guys can do is pay attention, it’s not like most of you have a suicide mission to a domain in the hells to look for…well, something. I’ve got real bloody things to worry about.’

He shook his head, trying to banish his worries.

‘Look, you’ve got time, Alex.’ He thought. ‘You’ve still got about two weeks left. You already got the dungeon core for Shales, so no more extra trips to Thameland for a while. Work on the business plan you and Toraka are developing is limited to only work hours. You’re all moved into your new home. The speaker box is complete…you’ve recruited all your minions—I mean, mercenaries…yeah, you’ve basically done everything extra that needed to be done. Now you can dedicate all your extra time to mastering this spell, if you have to. You might get a breakthrough. There’s no need to worry, yet. Just focus on doing what you can do. Remember, you’ve got time.’

Bringing himself back to focus, he tuned in to the lecture, trying to quiet his misgivings.

‘It’ll be alright,’ he thought, between calming breaths. ‘It’ll be alright.’

He would soon learn that it was not—in fact—alright.

After another hour, class ended and students poured from the lecture hall, desperate to get away from what many thought to be the most boring mandatory subject imaginable.

Alex and his two cabal mates were the last to leave. “And so ends another riveting lesson on the toileting habits of ancient wizards,” Khalik said. “Shall we have some lunch?”

“I can’t right now.” Alex grabbed a spell-guide from the basket hanging beneath a forceball. “I’ve really got to get back to work on Planar Doorway.”

“Still giving you trouble, eh?” Thundar asked. “Well, from what you told me, it’s stupidly hard. But, don’t be too hard on yourself. Won’t do you any good if you’re dead before the mission even starts ‘cos you starved yourself to death.”

“I won’t make it a habit.” Alex moved away at a half-jog. “It’s temporary. I’ll take it a bit easier when this demon gala’s behind us”

“Yeah.” Thundar snorted. “I’d best get back to practising my dance. Don’t want them tossing us out ‘cos we look like clods with two left feet. Happy studying!”

“Happy feasting!” Alex waved as he rounded a corner.

He hurried toward one of his favourite spots for practising spells—somewhere nice and close to the infirmary, just in case things went horribly wrong—and he was already deep in thought, reciting the incantation in his head when he slammed into a wall of stone.

“Agh!” he stumbled back, clutching his nose.

“Father, there you are. I was waiting for you,” Claygon said.

“Ugh, try and wait a little louder next time, buddy,” Alex murmured. “Did you finish seeing Baeli—”

He paused, noticing the towering figure of the archwizard standing behind his golem.

And the look on the goatman’s face was grim.

Very grim indeed.

“Walk with me a moment, Alex,” he said. “To my office. We have much to discuss.”

“Is there something wrong?” the young wizard asked, slowly shutting the door behind him. Its click sounded unnervingly final.

“Yes.” The chancellor quickly rounded his desk, pulling open a drawer and taking out a handful of spell-marked gems. “Very. I have just finished having a talk with Zonon-In…and there is trouble.”

“Oh no.” Alex crossed the room, his mind conjuring multiple disasters. “Don’t tell me Kaz-Mowang cancelled the demon gala or something. Did he find out about the plan? Did one of the mercenaries betray us?”

“No, no, nothing like that. In some ways, it is worse,” Baelin muttered, counting the gems. “Zonon-In informs me that her servants are dullards, oafs and imbeciles; the only reason I am not seeking them out to blast them out of existence is because she has already done so.”

Alex’s heart thundered. “W-what did they do? Did they warn Kaz-Mowang about us?”

“No.” The chancellor looked Alex in the eye. “They were incorrect on the date of his gala. Highly incorrect.”

The young Thameish wizard swallowed. “When…when is it?”

“The day after tomorrow.”

“That…that is too soon!” Claygon protested, raising his voice for the first time that Alex could remember. “Father hasn’t mastered his teleportation spell yet!”

“I know, trust me, I know.” The goatman growled, stalking toward a bookshelf. He pressed the back of a rather nondescript book, a click, and the entire row of shelves slid sideways, revealing a deep storeroom.

Inside, suits of armour, staves and weapons all blazed with power, filling the repository. Baelin stomped in, quickly selecting what he needed. “Now, I have to scramble to rearrange my entire schedule and try to make my meeting with Ezaliel coincide with the gala, which I am sure shall not arouse any suspicion!” His voice oozed sarcasm and bitterness.

“Shit…” Alex muttered. “Can we just go later? No…no, that demon’s stronghold is going to be a lot more secure when he’s not expecting dozens of guests, isn’t it?”

“Precisely,” Baelin said. “The safest time for you to enter those walls—and the time that will guarantee you the most success—is when your enemy is welcoming people inside of those walls.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” The young, Thaemish wizard began to pace back and forth in the chancellor’s office, his mind working. “And the longer we wait, the more chances for things to go wrong. But, still, maybe…when’s he hosting another gala?”

“That is unknown,” the chancellor said. “It could be any amount of time, even years, according to Zonon-In.”

“Yeah but, does she know what in all hells she’s talking about, this time?” Alex demanded.

“I should hope so,” Baelin said. “Since…and this is the worst part…she confirmed it by showing me her invitation. Her second, mind you. Those dead servants lost the first, inconveniencing her greatly and—far more importantly—us. That is why I say to ensure the competence of your minions, Alex. Look at all the havoc wrought by the carelessness of brainless demons!”

Alex stopped dead. “She’s going to be there?”

“Indeed.” The chancellor eyed several different staffs before selecting one crafted of gold and wood. “She has given her word that she will not interfere with anyone associated with me, but she does not know that you are working with me.”

“She will…recognize me…” Claygon said.

“Yeah, but you were being held in reserve anyway, buddy,” Alex said. “Still, this is…oh man, this is bullshit. Okay, hold on, let me think for a second, Baelin. There’s no way I’m going down there unless I feel that I’ve at least got most of what I need for success. Going in short on preparations would just risk me, Claygon, Thundar, Ripp and the others I hired.”

“Indeed,” the archwizard agreed. “A Proper Wizard adapts to circumstances, judging whether to continue with plans or cancel them, if one has time.”

“Yeah, well, the faster we can get the information, the quicker we have a chance to figure out something about Uldar, the Fool, the church and the Ravener,” he muttered. “And…the Ravener hasn’t sent any more invisible, petrifying monsters after me, Carey or Drestra yet, but I’d be a fool to think it’s not planning something.”

“Agreed.” The chancellor sheathed a dagger at his belt. “So, with that in mind, what are your thoughts? I will advise you after your decision.”

“One sec…okay…” He ran through a mental inventory. “Let’s see, I’ve got all the mercenaries recruited. Our team’s at maximum size. Everyone’s basically picked up what their roles are for the performance. Ezerak’s doing tricks with his magical tattoos. Kyembe’s dancing and fire-swallowing. Ripp’ll be doing acrobatics. Guntile’s juggling lightning. Thundar and I’ll be dancing, and he’s making illusions, and I’ll be doing strongman stuff. We’ve got all of that stuff covered.”

His hand reached for his chin, fingers poised to run through his beard before remembering it was gone. “Celsus and Claygon will be spell-marked and left in reserve. If there’s trouble, I’ll call them and that’s when all hell’s gonna break loose. Let’s see…what else. I’ve got my staff, I’m about as prepared as I can be on demonic culture and language, and I’ve been using the Mark and a pen to puzzle my way through about a hundred mazes a week.”

His eyes fell on the spell-guide in his hand. “The only thing left for me to do is to learn Planar Doorway. Everything else is done. I’m probably going to be as prepared as I’ll ever be except for that one spell.”

“Then what will you do?” the chancellor asked him.

Alex sighed, resisting the urge to swear. “Okay. First, I’ll wait to see if you can arrange your meeting with Ezaliel. If you can’t, I’m not going anywhere: we’re finished if things go wrong and he gets involved. He has to be either distracted, or dead. But…if you can get that meeting? Screw it, the only thing that waiting’s going to do is lessen our chances in the long run.”

He shrugged. “Hells, maybe Kaz-Mowang hears that you’re trying to find information about Hannar-Cim and destroys it. Time is not our friend here, and if I call everything off because I haven’t learned one spell, well…let me put it this way. It is a really useful spell, but if it’s the thing that makes or breaks us? Then I’ve made a major oversight somewhere.”

“That would be my assessment as well,” Baelin said.

“Then it seems that we’re going to the hells in less than a couple of days,” Alex muttered. “No safety net, this time.”

“Indeed, it is the way of things…though I wish it was not so soon.” The chancellor strode over to Alex, placing a hand on his shoulder. “But, I have faith in you.”

“Well, that’s a major vote of confidence.” The young wizard squared his broad shoulders. “And you tend to be right about things, Baelin. Let’s hope that you’re right this time.”