IAN had nearly reached his destination deep in the heart of the palace. Down several flights of stairs, through a wide, subterranean vault used as a training area for swordplay, through the corridor skirting the armory, and beyond to the storage area he sped, his tread smooth and silent on the stone flags. His eyes glittered dark and dangerous as he passed guard post after guard post, always unchallenged. Ian was known here.

He finally came to a halt just before the intersection of another minor corridor and rested his hand on the hilt of his sword to silence it, then inched his way forward until he could peek around the corner.

Good. The guard was there, just as Ian had hoped he would be.

Smiling grimly to himself, he slipped around the corner and glided up to the guard. The man did not see him until he was already alongside, no more than two strides away, and he started.

“Jesu, you nearly scared the life out of me! Is anything wrong?”

“No, of course not,” Ian replied, raising an eyebrow in feigned innocence. “Should there be?”

The guard relaxed slightly, then grinned. “No, m’lord,” he replied rather sheepishly. “It’s just that people don’t generally come down this far unless there is something wrong.”

Ian smiled. “No, I don’t suppose they do.” He raised his right hand and extended a forefinger in front of the man’s eyes. “What’s your name, guard?”

The man’s eyes moved involuntarily to the finger, and he stammered slightly. “M-michael DeForest, sir.”

“Michael DeForest.” Ian nodded, slowly moving his finger toward the man’s face. “Watch my finger, Michael.”

The guard’s gaze locked on the finger and followed as it approached, unable to break away. “M’lord, I—what are you doing?”

“Just follow my finger, Michael,” Ian ordered, his voice low and slightly menacing in the stillness, “and you will go . . . to . . . sleep.”

As he spoke the last word, sleep, his forefinger touched the man’s forehead lightly between the eyes, and the eyes fluttered closed. Ian’s low, muttered phrase deepened the trance, and then he reached out calmly and removed the man’s spear from his hand, resting it against the wall.

After glancing around to be sure no one had approached in the meantime, he backed the man a few paces so that he, too, stood against the wall. Then he placed his fingertips on the man’s temples and closed his eyes.