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colleague has a rare skill, Grand Astromancer. Did you say that he will he the one to raise the tower?”
    “No!” Caspar’s tiny frame shook with rage and his black skullcap slid from his head. “Only I can do such a thing!”
    The bürgermeister raised his eyebrows at the vehemence in the old man’s voice and even Gabriel looked up in surprise.
    Caspar clenched his jaw and attempted to speak more evenly. “Gabriel is indeed a wonderful student, bürgermeister, but he is still a student. Only an experienced magister such as myself could hope to harness such power.” He placed his skullcap back over his thin strands of hair and forced a brittle smile. “The Emperor himself has requested that I find the cause of these plagues, so it is crucial that I be the one to complete Razumov’s ritual.”
    “Of course, of course,” muttered Groot, raising his hands defensively. “Forgive me, magister. Please, continue with your work.”
    Gabriel stepped away from the moondial and approached his master. “This is the place. The configurations all indicate it. The town hall is built over the ruins of the tower. We must recite incantations in the most central room. By midnight, the celestial bodies will enter their most auspicious houses. Then the storms of magic will begin in earnest.”
    Caspar clutched his staff in both hands and nodded eagerly, turning to the group of knights. “In that case I suggest you guard the steps while we begin—”
    The Grand Astromancer’s words were interrupted by the sound of exploding timber.
    The group gathered on the steps turned to see the south gates collapsing, scattering shards of wood across the square. As the debris settled they saw the beastmen horde flooding into the town, led by their towering, bull-headed leader. They were met head on by the glinting ranks of the reiksgraf’s knights and a horrendous din filled the streets—the clanging of swords, the roar of feral beasts and the blare of trumpets all combined in one unbearable noise.
    “Sigmar,” cried Caspar. “I thought you said the gates would hold, bürgermeister?”
    Groot staggered back against his guards and shook his head in disbelief. “By the gods. This is…” He peered through the clouds of dust at the battling figures. “They’ve never attacked in these kinds of numbers.” He frowned and looked back at the town hall, as though expecting an explanation from the shadows within. Then he looked back at the wizards, his face crumpling with fear. “What will you do?”
    Gabriel grabbed the sleeve of his master’s robe. “We must begin. We can’t wait until midnight. We must raise the tower.”
    Caspar was still staring at the carnage erupting at the gate. He nodded in reply, but as he registered Gabriel’s words he frowned and pulled back from his apprentice’s grip. “Wait a minute! What do you mean, we can’t wait until midnight? None of the stars will be in alignment. How can we complete the spell if the heavens are out of position?”
    Gabriel closed his eyes and muttered a series of calculations. Then he gave a firm nod and looked up at the moon. “It can still be done. This is the correct day. Only the initial current will be weakened. Echoes of Razumov’s sorcery will reverberate as you climb his tower.” He looked at the old man with concern. “Do you need me to—?”
    “No!” snapped Caspar, drawing himself erect and dusting some imaginary lint from his robes. “If you’re sure we can do this,” he flinched as the invading horde let out another deafening roar, “then let’s find the spot.” He waved his staff at Groot. “Lead on, bürgermeister. Take us to the central chamber. Quickly!”
    They hurried into the building, pausing only to bar the doors behind them. The bürgermeister led the wizards and knights into the debating hall and waved at a mosaic in the centre of the floor. It depicted a lion rampant surrounded by a circle of flaming, twin-tailed comets. “That’s the heart