“Like what?” she asked with curiosity.

Magnus considered her question briefly, and then said, “Blacksmith, stonemason, carpenter . . . I seemed to most enjoy doing things with my hands, creating things,” he explained. “Eventually I decided I should like my own castle, but I needed a lot of coin for that. And land, of course, which only the king could bestow on you. So I became a mercenary to earn the coin.”

“And controlled a king to get the land?” she suggested.

“No. I might have, but it was not necessary in the end,” he said with a grin. “I was a very successful mercenary. Most immortals are. We are strong, fast, and hard to kill, after all.”

Allie nodded, but said, “Which makes me wonder how Basha could identify Abaddon among the dead rogues when the only way I know that one can be killed is by fire.”

Magnus blinked, and then smiled wryly. “I knew you would revisit that subject eventually.”

“Hmm,” she murmured, and then arched an eyebrow. “So? Is there a way to kill your kind without fire?”

“Beheading,” he said solemnly. “An immortal can survive it if the head is placed back on the body quickly for the nanos to heal, but if not . . .” He shrugged.

“So Basha will be expected to inspect the beheaded bodies?” she asked, grimacing at the thought of thirty-six bodies laid out with their heads severed.

“The bodies will have been burned,” he assured her. “But the heads will have been kept for identification purposes unless ID was found on their bodies. Enforcers try to keep track of mortals who are turned by rogues in case their disappearance causes problems in the future.”

“Oh, God, poor Basha,” Allie said with disgust at the thought of being expected to look over a bunch of detached heads. It sounded like a horror story to her. Although she supposed it was no worse than having to look them over with the bodies lying nearby. Still . . . Shaking her head to remove the images now playing through her mind, she said, “Fine. Thank you for telling me the truth. Now finish telling me about your efforts to get a castle.”

“I will always tell you the truth,” Magnus assured her solemnly, and then took a sip of water before saying, “Successful as we were, it was not long before I had the coin I needed to build my castle, but I needed to be granted land to put it on. Fortunately, the Battle of Agincourt was one of the last contracts I took.”

“Oh, I know about that one,” Allie said, excited to recognize a part of his history. “The Battle of Agincourt happened in 1415.”

Magnus smiled and nodded. “Yes. The history books recorded a great deal of that endeavor. What they did not record was that an attempt was made on Henry’s life the night before the Battle of Agincourt.”

“Really?” Allie asked with interest, and then demanded, “Tell me.”