Alek gritted his teeth and strained, trying to break free from the heavy woolen blanket. But he had been lifted into the air, and no matter how much he struggled, he couldn't get any leverage.
Nearly everyone stretched out their hands to hold Alek aloft. Jonas, on the other hand, didn't receive such fine treatment. He was stuffed in a burlap sack, tucked under a burly man's arm.
The two were carried through several more doors. It seemed they had already left the Tower of Ten Thousand Techniques, because Alek could feel the discomfort of teleportation—something that would never happen inside the Tower.
Finally, the group came to a halt, and Alek was carefully placed on the ground.
An old servant tottered over and unwrapped the blanket. Alek tried to spring up, but a blast of Magic hit him, and his body instantly went limp, about to collapse.
The old man's eyes welled with tears as his rough, bony hand caressed Alek's face. "The resemblance... it's uncanny."
