His eyes settled on the boy. “Would you be willing to spare me a few moments of your time?” When Reyn hesitated, he added, “I can sit with you right there. You won’t have to move. Just a few moments.”

Reyn wanted to say no. In fact, he was all prepared to say no, but something stopped him. Maybe it was the way the stranger was looking at him or maybe it was simply his own curiosity. The stranger had known he had magic. Could he possibly teach Reyn more about it, how to manage it so he wouldn’t have to keep living in fear of losing control? He nodded and beckoned the other over.

The stranger took the chair across from him. “You certainly are full of surprises. Everyone’s talking about you.”

“What do you want?” Reyn asked, anxious to get on with things.

“You’re planning to leave?”

How did he know that? Reyn shrugged. “It seems like a good idea.”

“I’d like you to stay another couple of days. I have business that needs my immediate attention, but I don’t want to lose track of you. I can be back quickly enough when it’s finished.”

“I don’t think I have two days. I doubt that I have two hours.”

“The Fortrens?”

“You seem well informed about my situation.”

“I am well informed about most things, your singing included.”

Reyn paused. “You know what I can do?”

“I not only know what, I know why. I meant what I said last night. There is a history to your talent, and I can tell you all about it. I can offer you better understanding of what it means and perhaps give you a way to control it.”

“But not now?”

“My business is pressing, and the need to address it is urgent. I must go at once. But I will be back, and we can talk then. At length, if you choose.”

“Well, perhaps you can tell me a way to reach you?”

“Or perhaps not. You intend to disappear somewhere the Fortrens and their ilk can never find you. One of the Southland cities, perhaps? Well, I need to be able to disappear, as well. So I need you to wait right here.”

He paused, his bladed features taking on a strangely feral look. “What if I guarantee you that the Fortrens will leave you alone until I get back? What if I can make certain they will not try to harm you? Or even come into the village?”

Reyn gave him a dubious look. “I think you offer more than you can deliver. The Fortrens aren’t the sort to listen to reason.”

The stranger stood up. “I’ll speak to them immediately. I’ll make the time. You won’t have to worry. Look for me in two days. You will be glad you waited. I will make it worth your while in more ways than one.”

And like that, without waiting for a further response from the boy, or even giving him another glance, he was out of his chair and gone.

Arcannen left the Boar’s Head quickly, anxious to wrap things up in Portlow so he could make his appointment in Sterne. He was already thinking ahead to what he would do once he got there, his plans taking shape as he mulled over his options. But now there needed to be some revisions. The boy was intrigued enough by Arcannen’s promise to reveal more about the nature of his magic that he would stay where he was for two days. Although once back again, Arcannen knew he would need more than a few promises to persuade the other to his cause.

What he would need was something the boy didn’t have but would want, even if the boy didn’t know what it was.

Fortunately, his sorcerer’s talents allowed him to divine the needs and desires of others. He had been able to do so here, and now all he needed to do was to produce what was required. The trouble this would require would be worth it in the end. Ten times worth it, if he could make the boy his ally.

But first, the Fortrens must be dealt with.

He had gleaned a little of their family history from talking to a few of the townspeople in a discreet and seemingly conversational way, so as not to cause suspicion. There was nothing very complicated about them. Their patriarch was Costa Fortren, a man nobody seemed to like and everybody feared. He was the one who could exercise control over the others, and there were plenty of others if you counted all the shirttails and hangers-on. Well over a hundred.

But Arcannen had been confronted by situations like this before, so he wasn’t at a loss to decide what needed doing.

He took his Sprint from where he had left it concealed in the surrounding forests—a modified two-man vessel that was sleek and fast. It was all that remained of his once-powerful fleet of airships, but then almost everything else was pretty much gone by now, as well. His failed attempt to subvert the Leah siblings and kill Aphenglow Elessedil had cost him everything, and he was still trying to figure out how to get it all back. The irony, of course, was that if he had just waited five years, the woman would have died anyway. Dealing with Isaturin as Ard Rhys would have been less of a challenge than dealing with Aphenglow, but the chance of gaining immediate control over the Druid Order had been too tempting. Well, it was all water under the bridge now, and he did his best not to dwell on how things had turned out.

Save for the matter of Arbrox. That was too recent, and the emotional damage he had suffered as a result felt as fresh and raw as it had on the day the atrocity had been committed. That could not be forgotten.

He flew only a short distance before reaching the Fortren compound, a sprawling complex of houses and outbuildings—some barns, some storage bins for food and what he guessed were stolen goods—sitting out in a meadow with good sight lines in all directions. He crisscrossed the area several times so that everyone could get a look at him, then he brought the Sprint down close to the main house and climbed out.

Men converged on him from all sides, many carrying portable flash rips and spring guns, others crossbows and blades. They approached cautiously but showed no signs of being intimidated. He stood where he was as they closed in, wrapping himself in protective magic in case one or more got a little careless with their weapons. He hadn’t come out here to end up the victim of some fool’s overzealous behavior.

“Costa Fortren!” he called out boldly, scanning the faces around him. “Are you willing to speak with me?”

There was momentary silence; then the front door of the main house crashed open and a huge bear of a man lumbered into view. He was wearing furs and leather, and there were blades hanging from belts and sheaths all about his body. He glared at Arcannen, then stomped down the steps of the building and came over. When he was a dozen feet away, he stopped. A handheld flash rip appeared in one great hand.

“Who are you?” he roared.

“My name is Arcannen.”

The big man shook his head. “Never heard of you. What are you doing here?”

The sorcerer ignored him. He gestured at the other’s weapon. “You seem well supplied with illegal goods. Those flash rips are meant as army issue only.”

Costa Fortren laughed, his belly shaking, his thick beard billowing out. “The army won’t miss them. You come here to try to take them back from us? You a Federation official?”

The sorcerer shook his head. “Hardly. They want me dead. They probably want you dead, too. So we have something in common.”

“We have nothing in common. You look like a Druid to me.”

“It might look that way, but I’m no Druid—though I do have the use of magic. I was passing through Portlow when I stumbled across someone I’ve been hoping to find for a very long time. Trouble is, you want to kill him.”

The other man’s eyebrows beetled together as he scowled. “You mean that boy? The one that killed Yancel and Borry? Would you be his friend, maybe? Come to beg for his life?”

Arcannen shook his head. He didn’t like all the dark looks he was getting from the rest of the assemblage. “I want to point out something before we continue. If any member of your family decides to use a weapon against me, it will end badly for them. I’m only here to talk.”