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Geoffrey was waiting in the Cadillac as he got ready. He and Rill entered the old car, and Geoffrey pulled out on the street.
“Did you read your instructions?”
“Yeah.” He swallowed hard. This was outside of his comfort zone in a billion ways. He wasn’t a performer. And this would require one.
They arrived at the Guild. This time he had the right to be there, since he had an appointment. He adjusted the pointed hat on his head and straightened his dark purple robe. His was plain, since he had no skill or specialty, but his uncle’s was emblazoned with all kinds of stitched symbols indicating his rank, his specialties, and his magical abilities. Oliver felt like a fraud wearing a robe at all.
They passed the reception desk, and this time a woman was seated behind it. Geoffrey approached and told her that he had an appointment. She directed them to take the elevators to the top floor.
Oliver wiped his sweaty palms on his robe and followed his uncle. He noticed that his shoes squeaked on the marble floor and cringed. They climbed into the elevator, and his uncle pressed the last number. The doors shut, and Oliver hoped they weren’t heading towards their doom. Everything depended on the High Wizard being uncorrupted—he couldn’t know about the soul stealing or they were as good as dead.
The elevator opened on the top floor, and Oliver and his uncle walked out into a splendid room. The focus was the huge wooden desk where a receptionist awaited. The man at the desk took their names and seated them in a small waiting area and offered them refreshments. Oliver took a bottled water; his mouth was dry as the Sahara.
They didn’t have to wait long. Oliver barely twisted the lid off, before a man came out of a discrete door and entered the elevator. The receptionist escorted them to the same door and ushered them in, then he left.
They were in a grand office with a wall of windows, plants and greenery, and a large glass table. A wizard rose to greet them. He looked a lot like his uncle, being about the same age, and with the same amused expression and twinkly eyes.
“Geoffrey!” the High Wizard exclaimed.
“Ralph!” his uncle said, and both men embraced.
Oliver stared, confused.
Geoffrey gestured at him and said, “This is my grandnephew, Oliver.”
“Sit, sit.” the High Wizard said, and they did.
“What can I do for you, old friend?” he asked Geoffrey.
Well, that answered that, they were friends. Oliver relaxed a slight bit, maybe everything would work out.
“Well, that is complicated and is going to require an open mind. We might have stumbled over a corruption that runs deep in the Guild. It involves…” his voice dropped to a whisper, and everyone leaned forward, “black magic and soul stealing.”
Ralph, the High Wizard leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers. “That is a dire accusation indeed. Do you have irrefutable proof?”
“I do.”
This was the tricksy part. How to produce the proof without being accused of the deed itself. Being in possession of a soul stone was a crime by itself his uncle had told him, but that was the proof of the crime, along with the cabinet in the basement lab.
“You’re going to have to listen to the entire story first, without judgment, my friend,” Geoffrey said.
The other man nodded. “Yes, I can do that.” His face had grown darkly serious, and Oliver knew that this was the High Wizard, not the friend.
Geoffrey stood, and started to pace as he laid out the whole story, nothing omitted from beginning to end. Oliver was nervous when his crime was discussed, but to stop this thing from happening or continuing to happen, the High Wizard had to know everything.
To his credit, Ralph kept focused through the whole thing, not even letting his eyes wander to Oliver. When Geoffrey was done speaking, the High Wizard bowed his head in thought.
“This is bad. You have no idea who is involved?” Ralph asked.
“No, only guesses. But if you can find who’s running that lab in basement level four, I think it’ll give you an idea who it is,” Geoffrey replied.
Ralph nodded. “Yes. Where is the crystal?”
Geoffrey pulled the large crystal that the birds had brought Oliver and laid it gently on the desk in front of the High Wizard.
He reached for it tentatively, and grasped it lightly, then he bent over and examined it with his wizard’s senses.
He snapped back. “This is black magic indeed.” His eyes sharpened. You are lucky I can discern the flavor of magic, and thus know this is not your work.”
