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you prefer.”
    “But my classes,” said Simon. “I have one semester of classes left, then I just have to finish my dissertation.”
    “By no means do I wish to disrupt your education,” said Wycliffe. “We can work around it. I understand that your dissertation is on the role of the Roman army in the collapse of the Empire?” Simon nodded. “I rather look forward to reading it. You will let me read it, won’t you?”  He grinned. “If you work here, that is.” 
    Too much had come at Simon too fast. “How much are you offering for this?”
    Wycliffe leaned back in his chair. “Seventy-five thousand a year.” 
    Simon blinked. His jaw almost fell off its hinges and hit the carpet. “Seventy-five thousand?” He could not imagine making that much money in three years, let alone one. 
    “I won’t go any higher than eighty,” said Wycliffe. 
    “I didn’t think congressional aides got paid that much,” said Simon. 
    Wycliffe smiled. “I prefer to hire all my people myself. You will be working for me, not the government. The government does provide a staff and office for all congressmen and senators. However,” he grinned, “I have money of my own. I hire all my own aides, people I can trust, and maintain offices here and in Washington at my own expense. It makes for an excellent PR boost. Not spending the taxpayers’ money on curtains for my office and all that.”
    “I can imagine,” said Simon. 
    “So, will you consider my offer?” said Wycliffe. “Educated men, truly educated, are an increasing rarity these days. You would make a useful asset. And it’s not one-sided. This would make an ideal job for you, given your circumstances.”  He leaned forward, elbows on the desk. “What do you say?”
    Simon swallowed. Something about Wycliffe unsettled him. And what if the Senator had made his money through illegal means? But Marchson Appliances probably had slave-labor plants in Bangladesh. The gas station he had worked at during high school had broken numerous labor and food-sanitation laws. Simon had to work somewhere. And he could not afford to pass on Wycliffe’s generous offer.
    “You seem uncertain,” said Wycliffe.
    “I don’t know,” said Simon. “It…just seems too good to be true.”
    Wycliffe laughed and slapped the desk. “Mr. Wester, I am too good to be true. A poor boy from Chicago grows up and becomes a Senator? If that’s not the American dream, then what is? Why, it’s almost as if there’s a hint of black magic about my story! I’m offering you a chance, Mr. Wester. I suggest you take it.” 
    Simon frowned. Wycliffe was right. “I’ll do it.”
    “Excellent!” said Wycliffe. He stood and extended his hand, and Simon shook it. “Welcome aboard, Mr. Wester. You will not regret this.”
    Simon looked at the shorter man and nodded. “I hope not.” Some of his doubts dissipated. Wycliffe was a politician, and he couldn’t risk ruining his career in a scandal over shady activity.
    Besides, Simon doubted that Wycliffe had been involved in anything truly nasty. 

Chapter 5 - Castle Bastion

    Year of the Councils 962

    “This is as far as I can take you,” said Targath. Wooded hills rose up ahead, marking the edge of the Old Mire. “Castle Bastion lies five miles to the west.” 
    “Thank you, my friend,” said Liam. “I hope we meet again in happier times.”
    Targath shook his head, his silvery hair gleaming in the moonlight. “I fear we will not meet again. Not in this world, at any rate. I wish you well, Sir Liam Mastere. May all the blessings of all the gods go with you. You will certainly need them.” Targath turned and vanished back into the swirling mists of the Old Mire.
    Liam put spurs to his horse and snapped the reins. He galloped for the west, clods of earth flying beneath his mount’s hooves. He found a path leading through the wooded hills and followed it. The night sky began to brighten, the wind whistling through the trees. 
    But it