He went through the motions, and they played their parts for a while longer before she reached over playfully, took him by his arm, and led him from the room and up the stairs to the sleeping chambers. In the darkness of the hallway at the top, she moved him back against the wall, her hands fastening on his arms to hold him there.

“Two nights ago, when the disturbance to the scrye waters was recorded, there was an incident at a tavern several doors down called the Boar’s Head. There is a family that lives here called Fortren. No one likes them. They bully everyone, intimidate and steal, pretty much cause all sorts of trouble. A couple of them have been harassing a boy who works at the tavern as a musician. He sings and plays the elleryn. They say he is very good. They cornered him out back of the tavern and attacked him with an iron bar. Smashed his instrument.”

She paused, her grip on his arms tightening. “He must have retaliated as a result, they say. He tore them apart. No weapon, no indication of how he did this. But by the time he was done, they were barely recognizable as human. Gammon is the tavern owner. They say he looks after the boy. But no one has seen the boy now for maybe a day or so. These men I was talking to think he is in hiding because sooner or later the Fortren family will try to come after him. They take care of their own, and pay back whatever debts they think are owed harshly.”

Paxon grinned at her. “How did you manage to learn all that?”

“Easy,” she said. “I told them I overheard snatches of their conversation, and I was frightened. You and I are traveling on, but not for a few days. We’re newly married, and I didn’t want anything to happen to us if it wasn’t safe here. Maybe other travelers ought to be warned. They couldn’t tell me fast enough how safe things were in spite of what I might have assumed.”

Now it was her turn to grin at him. “A lady in distress always brings out the protective side in men. Didn’t you know that?” She released her grip and stepped back. “Let’s go find this boy.”

They slipped down the back stairs and continued down Portlow’s only road, walking on until they saw a sign for the Boar’s Head. It was a big, sprawling building with dozens of windows that allowed the light from inside to spill out onto the surrounding grounds. Shouts and laughter came from inside, their intensity a clear indicator of the tavern’s popularity.

“Wait here,” Paxon told her, slowing as they neared the front door. “Let me see if I can find this fellow Gammon and persuade him to come outside to talk so we can hear each other.”

When she didn’t object, he moved quickly to the door and stepped inside. The tavern was crammed wall-to-wall with people and thick with smoke. The sound was deafening. He waited a moment until a serving girl came by and caught her arm. She gave him an annoyed look, but didn’t pull away.

He leaned close. “Gammon?”

She nodded toward a man working behind the service counter, took her arm back, and moved on.

Paxon squeezed his way over to the counter, waited until he caught the man’s eye, and beckoned him over. Gammon was burley and bluff; his face reflected an enthusiasm for his work. Or perhaps it was just the credits it generated. “Help you?”

Paxon smiled and bent close. “There’s someone waiting outside who needs to talk to you about the boy. She knows quite a bit about his history and is here to help him. Can you come talk to her?”

Gammon studied him. “Who are you?”

“A man in her service. Please. We mean no harm. We just need a few minutes of your time.”

Gammon studied him some more, and then he shrugged. “Why not? I’ve talked to everyone else under the sun.”

He came out from behind the bar, and together they made their way to the front door and outside where Avelene was waiting for them. She offered her hand to Gammon and introduced herself. All around them, patrons of the Boar’s Head were coming and going, some of them singing loudly and shouting, so Avelene took Gammon by the arm and led him all the way across the roadway to a quiet space between two shuttered buildings.

“How do you know Reyn?” he asked her.

“I don’t know him personally,” she answered. “Is that his name? Reyn?”

Gammon bristled, glaring at Paxon. “You tricked me into coming out here. You aren’t friends. You have some other …”

“We might be his best friends,” Avelene interrupted him. “I’m a member of the Druid Order, and I’ve been sent by the Ard Rhys to find this boy and warn him about what’s happening. His magic is an old one that has been in his family for centuries. I’m not sure he knows this, but he needs to, because using magic as he does is dangerous. I don’t want anything from him; I just want to warn him.”

Gammon looked suspicious. “His family, you say? He doesn’t know who his family is. He told me so. A couple took him in when he was young and raised him. How can you be sure about what you’re telling me?”

“We can track the use of magic from Paranor. We can identify it. This magic matches one we already know, one that is linked to singing. And the match tells us he comes from a particular family that has had the use of that magic for a very long time. We need to speak with him.”

Gammon shook his head. “You and a few others. But no one can speak to him anymore. He’s gone. Set out this morning. Said he couldn’t stay around here any longer with the Fortrens looking for him. Didn’t matter what he promised that black-cloaked stranger.”

“Do you know where he went?”

“He wouldn’t tell me. Just said he had to find a new place, far away from here. Those Fortrens don’t ever quit coming for you if you hurt one of them. He knew that.”

“Wait a minute,” Paxon said. “You said there was a stranger?”

“Wanted the boy to wait here for him. Wanted to talk to him about his singing. Was he another Druid?”

“No.” Paxon didn’t bother to hide his consternation. “Can you describe him?”

Gammon did so. “I didn’t much like him.”

“Your instincts aren’t lying to you. He’s very dangerous. If he comes back here, keep away from him. His name is Arcannen. He is not a good man. The Federation and the Druid Order both have been hunting him for years.”

“Well, then, maybe it’s a good thing the boy is gone.” Gammon turned away. “Anyway, that’s all I know. I have to get back to work.”

“Do you know which way he went when he left?” Avelene called after him.

Gammon made a dismissive gesture and disappeared back through the tavern entry.

“He’s lying,” she said. “Or, at best, shading the truth.”

Paxon nodded slowly. “Should we go back in there and confront him?”

She thought about it a moment. “No,” she said finally, “let’s wait and see what happens. Why don’t you go around and watch the back door? I’ll remain here. I have a feeling about this.”

She moved farther back into the shadows and followed Paxon’s progress as he made his way back across the roadway and around the tavern. Intent on what she had decided to do, she missed noticing the black-cloaked form coming up behind her.

Reyn Frosch was sleeping when Gammon knocked on the door.

“Open up! Hurry! Something’s happened!”

Still sleepy-eyed and muddle-headed, the boy climbed from the bed and walked over to the door. “Gammon?”

“Yes, it’s Gammon! Open the door!”

It sounded urgent enough that Reyn did so, stepping back quickly as the innkeeper pushed his way in and closed the door behind him. “You’ve got to leave now! Right now!”

The boy found himself waking up more quickly. “What’s wrong? What’s happened?”

“There’s two people downstairs asking for you. They say they are Druids. Or at least the young woman does. Don’t know about the other. They lured me out to talk to them by saying they knew you, then said they didn’t know you personally, but knew about your singing. Said it was a magic that ran in your family. They said that black-cloaked stranger you’re waiting for is a sorcerer and too dangerous for you to be getting involved with. I don’t know if I believe them or not, but I think you should get as far away from here as you can. Are you listening to me?”