In a way, it had been marvellous. Young magi have energy and old ones have skill. Somewhere in the continuum between young and old lies a practitioner’s greatest moment. Harmodius had assumed his had been twenty years ago, and yet last night he’d thrown a curtain of fire five furlongs long—and swept it ahead of his galloping horse like a daemonic plough blade. “Heh,” he said aloud.
