Was that true? She couldn’t tell. “Then you resent the inconvenience I’ve caused you,” she said, sure of that much. “Doubtless I was selfish and short-sighted, not to let your binding kill me. It would’ve proven to the Council I am a mage misjudged, and they could have sent Remmie a brief note of regret.”

“Do not presume to tell me what I feel, Mage Lindin!” he said, furious, and closed on her. “Trust me when I say you have no notion what I feel!”

She swallowed. He was like a caged desert cat, ready to lash out at the least provocation. “I’m sorry.”

“And that’s a lie,” he retorted, halting before her. “Whatever you are, Barl Lindin, we both know you’re not sorry. Not for bloodying Hahren or challenging the Council or breaking my binding or sneaking in here!”

“I admit,” she said, after a moment, “I was wrong to break your ward and trespass in your workroom. But as for the rest—”

“You were wrong in all of it!”

“No, I was not! The College’s ruling was unjust, Hahren laid hands on me, and if I hadn’t broken your binding I would be dead.”

That halted him. “Nonsense. My binding was not lethal.”

“I beg to differ. You saw what happened the first time your binding woke. Stand there and tell me to my face that my life then was not in peril. I dare you.”

Silence, as they stared at each other. Then he retreated to rest both hands on the attic door. His head lowered between his outstretched arms, and after a time he breathed out a long, slow sigh.

“How did you do it? How did you break my binding and ward?”

Still wary, she eased away from the wall and window and gingerly touched the back of her head. There was a bump, but nothing worse than that. Her fingertips remained dry. To make a point, to carve a little space and time for herself to think, she mended the cracked windowpane.

“Mage Lindin?”

She turned from the window to see that he was facing her again. Waiting. The power she’d felt in him at Winsun, that echoed around them now, was ruthlessly leashed. But she had no illusions. He could unleash it with a thought and destroy her for what she’d done… and not a mage on the Council would call it murder.

“I don’t know how I did it.”

His fist struck the door beside him. “Mage Lindin—”

“I don’t!” she insisted. “Not to explain it, or show you. For some reason it seems I have an affinity for your magework. I can see the warp and weft of it and—and have it do as I bid.”

“I see. And how many other mages’ incants have you interfered with?”