But Mags had learned long ago the means of fighting back without actually fighting at all, and as they grabbed for him, their hands closed on nothing more than air. He was good at this. He could judge their reach to a hair, and he moved only enough to keep out of their way. He made sure to position himself each time so that they actually hindered and ran into each other. Not that he wasn’t afraid, because he very much was. There was a bitter taste in the back of his throat, and it felt as if his heart was going to pound right out of his chest.

Time and time again, the same scene played out. They would try to lay hands on him, or even deliver some kind of blow; he would evade hands and blows alike, without ever seeming to move much. Each time, he left a hand or an arm out temptingly for them, hoping that one or more of them would lunge after it. Finally, the tallest of them grew tired of the game, and did make a rush at him. This time he not only evaded being seized, but with what looked like a gentle brush of his hands, landed the foreigner several arm lengths away, facedown in the snow. What he had actually done was to lure the attacker off-balance, and then, while the young man was still off-balance, continued him in that direction with the slightest of shoves.

He came up, not spluttering as Mags had expected, but angry—and disgusted.

“Bah!” he said, wiping melting snow from his face. “He is cheating, using one of their White Rider magic tricks. There is no point to this.”

And with that, just as abruptly as they had begun their attacks, they broke it all off. They turned their backs on him, stalking toward the Palace, leaving Mags to stare after them, numb and shaking.

Chapter 11

11

THE Herald that had attacked Mags left him alone—and then left altogether, out on circuit.

Why this had come about, Mags did not know. Dallen was silent on the subject. But Mags could not help but notice the occasional careful stare at him that other Heralds did not hide. He was not able to sense any menace, but . . . there was not much doubt in his mind that these Heralds, if they did not actually blame him for their colleague’s abrupt departure, were certain that the “encounter” was the cause.

He was not quite sure what to make of that, but he did know what felt most comfortable, and that was to make himself even less noticeable, if that was possible, than before.