The Darke Fog was rolling on. It had reached the door to Larry's Dead Languages. It seeped in around the edges, finding out the cracks, pouring through the knotholes, needling through the woodworm burrows. It gathered around the piles of translated papers, swirled into the much-repaired vase and snuffed out the candles in the window display that had been lovingly created by Beetle. It rolled on through the shop, up into the gallery, along the landing and up the rickety winding stairs. In his little room deep in the back of his house, Larry awoke. He sat up in bed and pulled the bedclothes around his chin. He stared into the darkness, listening hard. Something was wrong. Larry swung his sticklike legs out of bed and, as his bare feet flinched at the cold touch of the floorboards, he saw black smoke pouring underneath the door. Aghast, he leaped up - the house was on fire!
The smoke advanced toward him; it began to curl around his frozen toes and slowly, as if in a dream, Larry sat down again. A great feeling of contentment overwhelmed him. He was back in his old school, getting the Latin prize for the seventh time, and he had just seen his father in the audience, in the front row, smiling at him. Smiling at him. Larry. Clever Larry . . .
As the Darke Fog layered around him, Larry sank back onto the bed. His breathing slowed and, like a tortoise in the depths of winter, he slipped into a dark and dreamless state somewhere between life and death.
Marcia ushered Jillie Djinn and Marcellus, who had custody of Merrin, out into Wizard Way. She quickly locked the Manuscriptorium door behind her. Marcia could hardly bear to think about what she had left behind, but what was facing her was even worse. Advancing up Wizard Way like a pulsating black toad was a Darke shifting blackness.
Marcia was horrified to see that the rolling Fog was accompanied by a line of Things - the outriders of the Darke Domaine. Like the sweep of a terrifying search party, they spread out across Wizard Way, with the Fog tumbling behind. She stared in shock, unable to tear herself away from the disaster unfolding before her.
Marcellus tried to draw Marcia away. "Marcia, you must get to the Wizard Tower at once," he said.
Merrin's eyes flashed angrily at Marcellus. With the Darke Domaine advancing ever nearer he felt he was growing stronger. The Two-Faced Ring was growing hot on his thumb and the vicious green faces were beginning to glow. The top face winked up at Merrin, and suddenly he knew he could beat Marcia. He could beat them all. He was in charge now. He was the best.
First Merrin broke the Silent with the worst insult in the Castle, then he broke the Restrain. With a violent twist, he tore himself from Marcellus's grasp and delivered a vicious kick to the Alchemist's shins. As Marcellus hopped up and down, gasping in pain, Merrin raised his arms in the air and, in a taunting gesture, he pulled his wrists apart, snapping the Locking Band as if it were no more than tissue paper. Relishing his moment of triumph, Merrin darted forward and waved his left thumb in Marcia's face, laughing as she instinctively drew back. The ring's evil-looking faces glowered at her, their jade complexions gleaming.
Marcia knew that there was only one possible reason for Merrin's sudden surge of power - the oncoming Darke Domaine had indeed been Engendered by him. Up to that moment she had found it hard to believe that Merrin was capable of such a thing but now, as he pranced away, defiantly punching the air with his fist, with his Two-Faced Ring glittering, Marcia realized just how much control Merrin now had. It was a terrifying thought.
"You idiot!" she yelled at him. "You have no idea what you are messing with, do you?"
"Neither do you, Wizard-face." Merrin laughed. "Run away to your twinkly little Tower and take old haddock-brain with you. I don't need her anymore. See ya! Ha, ha, ha!" Merrin could hardly contain himself. He had never had such an attentive - such an astonished - audience. It was wonderful. It was what he had always wanted.
"That's what I think of your stupid Magyk!" he yelled at Marcia, flicking his fingers at her. Gesticulating and laughing, Merrin danced backward, his pale face lit by the still-burning torches and the ghostly candle displays shining onto the empty streets. "Come and get me if you dare!" he yelled.
Marcia did dare. It was undignified but she didn't care. Inside Merrin's nasty little stomach the precious half of the Paired Codes was churning, and she was not having her last chance to defeat him escape her. She tore down Wizard Way in pursuit. Merrin laughed and ran, his scribe's cloak streaming behind him, his outstretched arms flapping like a demented bird flying toward his flock.
Marcellus raced after Marcia. It was a long time since he had run anywhere and his shoes were not ideal for the job - particularly after their encounter with the Manuscriptorium door. But Marcia's pointy purple pythons were even less suited to running and he soon caught up with her.
"Marcia . . ." he puffed. "Stop."
Marcia shook Marcellus's hand off her arm. "Let go," she hissed.
Marcellus stood firm. "No. Marcia, don't you see? The closer you get to that" - he waved his free hand at the advancing Darke Domaine and its outriders - "the more power it gives him and the more it takes from you. Come away before something awful happens."
"Something awful has happened," snapped Marcia, setting off in pursuit once more.
Marcellus kept up with difficulty. "It could be worse . . . you still have the Wizard Tower . . . don't risk it all on a nasty little scribe."
Marcia stopped. "You don't understand - he's got the Paired Code!"
Marcellus looked shocked, but he quickly recovered himself. "You must leave the Code to its fate. You must go back to the Wizard Tower." His voice shook with urgency. "You must not lose that too."
"I shall lose neither." Marcia flared angrily. "Just watch me."
Marcellus and Marcia were now more than halfway down Wizard Way. Only a hundred yards or so in front of them, the wall of Darke Fog rolled slowly toward them. At the base of the Fog a line of Things stretched out, shifting and blending in with the Darke, loping slowly forward, pulling the Darke Domaine with them.