“How dare you?” Bayar began, but his voice had lost some of its force. “How dare you come into this sacred hall, flinging accusations?”

“I have not yet made any accusations,” Willo said. “Perhaps it is your own guilt clamoring in your ears.”

She turned toward the other council members, who sat gaping. “I have something to say.”

Bayar groped for his amulet, extending a trembling hand toward her.

Dancer moved between them, his knife glittering in the torchlight. “Let go of that amulet,” he said quietly. “And let my mother speak. Or I will cut your throat.”

Lord Bayar stood, breathing hard, eye to eye with his son for a long charged moment. Then let go of the jinxpiece.

As Willo spoke, even Bayar’s allies seemed enthralled. Micah stared at Willo, then Dancer, then Willo again, shaking his head, his face a potent mixture of nausea and fury. Lord Mander licked his lips repeatedly, staring down at the table. Gryphon rubbed his chin with his palm, forehead creased in thought, his eyes on Willo.

Abelard sat back in her chair, by turns looking amazed and vastly entertained. Now and then, she remembered herself, and adopted an expression of horrified disapproval. But anyone could tell she was the happiest person in the room.

Finally, it was finished. “I am not ashamed of Hayden Fire Dancer,” Willo said. “Though he was given a difficult path to walk, he is the blessing of my life. But it is time that Lord Bayar is held accountable for this thing that he has done—one crime among many, I believe. What is particularly reprehensible is the fact that he holds others accountable for acts he himself has committed.”

By now, Bayar seemed to have mastered himself. Han suspected he hadn’t even been listening—he knew the story, after all—but was preparing his own.

“Are you quite finished?” he said pointedly.

“I am not finished,” Willo said, “but I would like to hear you speak to what I have said.”

Bayar looked around the table and shook his head in a woe-some way, as if the world had once again disappointed him.

“This…this woman,” he said, as if thinking of another word. “This woman has borne a chance child, and thinks to take advantage of a faint resemblance between me and her byblow offspring to make this preposterous claim.

“Yes, it seems likely that this mixed-blood was fathered by a wizard—or someone carrying wizard blood. Maybe even someone distantly related to us—we have blood ties to most of the prominent gifted families in the realm. That would explain the resemblance. It would not surprise me if this upland hedge witch seduced one of the gifted to this purpose. That, of course, does not absolve the wizard from responsibility in this matter. It is our duty to be wary of this kind of entrapment. Everyone knows the copperheads breed like rabbits.”