Thero scrabbled through the broken crockery and scattered branches until he found the paintbrush. The ink had upended, too, but he dabbed at the spill and was able to get enough to inscribe the final holding sigil on the chalk. The ink hissed and sank in but the mark remained clear. The intense heat disappeared, leaving the chalk cool and inert.

Thero placed it carefully back in his pocket, then found his knife and cut the circle. He tried to stand, but collapsed instead at Alec’s feet.

“Stay down,” Alec advised, supporting him with one arm.

“People keep telling me that,” Thero replied with a shaky laugh.

Seregil examined Thero’s blistered hand and tattered state with concern. “What in Bilairy’s name just happened? Something practically flayed you.”

“I was caught by surprise,” Thero admitted. “It wasn’t a curse. It was a possession.”

“By what?” asked Micum. “One of those dra’gorgos things?”

“I’m not certain that’s even possible.” Thero took out the chalk with his unburned hand and checked the sigil to make sure it hadn’t gotten smudged. “Whatever it was, I managed to contain it. I must find somewhere safe and dry to store it until I can get it back to the Orëska vaults.” He looked around. “Kordira’s medicine. Pour one of them out and dry the inside thoroughly.”

Alec opened the bag and took out one of the brass containers. He pried loose the wax seal and dumped the potion out the door. Using the tail of his shirt, he wiped out the inside.

“It must be perfectly dry,” Thero said.

“Here, let me.” Seregil took the container, made a band of his handkerchief to hold it, and held it upside down over one of the lanterns to dry any remaining moisture.

“There, that should do it,” he said, setting it on the floor next to the wizard. Thero placed the chalk inside, seated the lid back into place, and ran his finger around the seam, murmuring the spell of sealing, which smoothed the remaining wax into a perfect gleaming ring securing the lid. “That will have to do until I can get to my equipment,” he said, more relieved than he let on.

“What if it doesn’t hold?” asked Alec.

Thero stifled a groan of pain as he rose to his feet. “It would be considerably worse than what you saw just now.”

“Something like that could have killed the governor and his companion, then taken over Sedge,” said Micum.

“That seems likely.” Sedge still lay sprawled on the floor among the wreckage. “I hope he’ll be able to tell us more.”

Micum felt Sedge’s pulse and placed a hand over the man’s heart. “I think he’s just asleep.”

“We may have already accomplished what the queen sent us for,” said Alec.

“I wouldn’t start repacking your trunk just yet.” Thero ran his unburned hand over his face. “The thing spoke old Konic, Seregil.”

“So I heard. That raises some interesting questions. Toneus’s renovations of the palace might have disturbed something important.”