“I was sitting on the ridge, kind of scooting along, and he slipped, behind me. It was my fault—he thought I was teasing him about being afraid, but really I told him to stay because I thought I’d be faster alone and I wouldn’t have to worry about him. So he stood up fast and he slipped, and I was facing the wrong way and all bent up, and when I tried to move—” His voice failed then; a sob wanted to burst out. He fought it back.

“What happened?”

“I—I caught him. And he said ‘You’re flying,’ and I saw I must have—none of me was touching the roof. Then I fell down onto it, but we didn’t slide off.” Camwyn swallowed and told the rest. “And then on the ladder my feet cramped and I nearly fell, and … my hand lit up so I could see where the rungs were.”

“And Aris saw.”

“Yes, and I asked him not to tell anyone about it, even you, because I would. But I was afraid—I know I’m supposed to be willing to die in your service, but … but I don’t want to. Yet. But I’m your brother, and if I have magery, you have to kill me—”

“No, I don’t,” Mikeli said. He sat back a little, elbows on his knees. “Cam, think: I didn’t kill Beclan Mahieran, and he’s only my cousin. Even though many men—many good men—died because of him and his magery, I did not condemn him. You’re my brother. You’re right; your having magery is a problem—and it couldn’t happen at a worse time, with High Marshal Seklis in the next tent—but you’re my brother, and I’m not going to kill you. Not for that, anyway. I’d sooner kill you for lying. For that you will be punished.”

Camwyn wanted to ask how but did not dare. “You sent Beclan away; you made him change his name.”

“Yes. And I cannot do that to you without risking my own rule. Enough tongues wag already.” Mikeli heaved a sigh that seemed to rise from his bare feet. “I thought you’d lit a candle—a dozen candles—in there and were up to some mischief. That’s why I came to see. Tell me, does it happen more than once a night?”

“Not … usually,” Camwyn said. “But I never know when or for how long.”

“Can you light candles with it?”

“Yes, and that helps it go away. Sometimes I light one over and over.”

“Try.” Mikeli handed him an unlit candle.

Camwyn put out his hand to the wick. One finger burst into brilliant light; a flame rose from the wick. His finger hardly dimmed.

“I don’t suppose you can use it up by some other magery,” Mikeli said. “Flying, perhaps?”