Impatient, Venette Martain glanced at her. “For what? Mage Lindin, sit with your brother and be quiet.”

She felt so sick with dread now she had to blink to see. “Remmie—” She could hardly hear her own voice. “No, Remmie, stop them—don’t let them go—”

A terrible scream. And then another. A bilious surge of raw power. An odd twisting sensation. A brittle shattering of glass. Muffled shouting somewhere. A sickening shudder through the Hall.

Morgan appeared in the chamber doorway, a quizzical look on his face. Then a small smile replaced it, and as it widened he snapped his fingers.

“Justice save us,” croaked Lady Brislyn. “You really are deranged.”

With a leathery rustling of skin flaps, four inhuman creatures with two arms and two legs gathered at Morgan’s back. In their bestial, fanged faces, nothing of Brice Varen, Sallis Arkley, Shari Frieden or Bellamie Ranowen remained. Only the ragged remnants of their clothing made it possible to guess who had been whom.

“Extraordinary,” Morgan drawled. “You know, Barl, I can’t believe it. It was the segue between the third and fourth syllables. That’s where I went wrong with Rumm. It catches me every time.”

The two duty mages, stunned into staring immobility, found their wits—lost their wits—and stupidly made a move toward him.

Three swift sigils. Eight syllables. The duty mages… changed.

Tears ran unheeded down Venette Martain’s snow-white face. “Oh, Morgan. Oh, my dear.”

The monstrous things that moments ago had been human, clicked their talons in confusion and hissed through their sharp fangs. The transmuted councillors hissed with them, uneasily shifting from side to side.

As Morgan looked at her, one eyebrow lifted in fastidious derision, Barl risked turning to Remmie. He was sickly pale too, but his eyes were determined. He gave her the smallest nod, his faith in her returned.

But I don’t know what to do, Remmie! I don’t know what to do!

Sickened almost to heaving, panic threatening to overturn reason, she struggled to think. They needed to get out of this antechamber. Out of the Hall. They needed somewhere safe to hide where Morgan didn’t know where to look. Remmie’s room at the Shooting Star. It would have to do.

Only we’ll need to incant to it. All of us, at once. Am I strong enough?

There was no point wondering. She’d have to try it, and find out.

Because he was her brother, her other self, and he knew her so well, Remmie risked Morgan’s fury by taking Venette Martain and Lady Brislyn by their arms and easing them back. Easing them together.

Morgan tipped his head to one side. “Are you feared I’ll transmute you, Remmie? You needn’t fret on it. I love your sister, remember? We’re near as brothers, you and I.” He smiled. “It might be nice to have a brother. What do you think?”