Mikeli would be so angry. So would the Marshal-Judicar. And that reminded him of Gird, who had made the law against magery. He thought then he should pray, but the only prayer that came to mind was the Ten Fingers, not really a prayer. He recited it as fast as he could. The glow did not disappear, nor did it brighten. “I’m sorry, Gird,” he muttered under his breath. “I didn’t do it on purpose.” Whatever it was. But so often things he hadn’t done on purpose still earned him blame.

He shook his hand, hoping the glow would disappear. It didn’t. He thought at it: Go away. Nothing happened. Well, if it wouldn’t go away, could he make it brighter? He stared, concentrating. Nothing for a time, then it brightened for a moment, enough to light the way from where he stood near the door to his bed—to the window beyond.

The window—Gird’s cudgel, someone might see the light and wonder why he was up! He scrambled to the bed and stuck his hand under the covers. It brightened again, an obvious light showing through the fabric. And it was hotter. He put his knee up, holding the covers away from his finger lest they catch fire. He couldn’t sleep like this. And what if it stayed lit until morning? What would he do then?

He imagined himself being sent away, forced to live with Duke Verrakai … But no, it was worse than that. Beclan had been only the king’s cousin. He was the king’s brother. What would they do to Mikeli if he were found with light on his finger? Would anyone believe it came from Gird?

Just how hot was his finger? He thought about that for a moment, then touched it to the wick of the candle in the stick by his bed. After a moment the wick caught, and simultaneously the light in his finger disappeared.

That was easy. He fell asleep in the instant of that thought, waking only in the gray dawn with the bedside candle burnt down to a puddle of wax. His hand looked perfectly normal. “Thank you, Father Gird,” he said. “I will never do that again.” Whatever it was he’d done, since he had no idea how he’d done it.

He cleaned the puddled wax out of his candlestick and off the chest beside it, so no one would accuse him of leaving a candle burning, and put the wax in the bowl used for such scraps. As he was dressing, he heard his friends gathering out in the passage. He was late for his early morning hauk practice already.