Gently, Han stripped away the magic that overlaid the wall, exposing an arched wooden door, reinforced with metal, amazingly solid after more than a thousand years underground. He pressed his palm against the surface, as if it might open at a touch.

“Use the key,” Crow said.

Han pulled the key from his pocket and inserted it into the lock. The mechanism moved smoothly, no evidence of rust or ruin. He pushed the door open, launching a flare of light ahead of him. It arced up toward the ceiling, revealing a glittering underground treasure vault.

Han took a step forward, then another, squinting against the brilliance of hundreds of reflective surfaces. Wands, staffs, and eyepieces. Ornate swords, daggers, armor, amulets, and talismans. Goblets and drinking cups inscribed with runes.

The Armory of the Gifted Kings.

There was other magical jewelry—jinxpieces of all kinds, from tiaras to belts, from torcs to rings and bracelets. Tables were loaded with smoky crystal scrying glasses. Shelves were piled with masks, cloaks, and clothing. Mirrors and painted panels and elaborate cages with nothing in them lined the walls. Bolts of cloth shot with silver and gold stood in bins next to shelves of books and scrolls, which Han assumed contained secrets of magical mayhem.

Crystal decanters held mysterious potions in lurid colors, alongside jars of powders and pastes. Would the potions be any good after a thousand years? Or would they be too dangerous to chance?

“Don’t touch anything without asking me,” Crow said, overhearing Han’s thoughts. “It’s mostly weaponry of one sort or another, or objects and devices useful in warfare. Much of it was collected before my time, so there are a few things I was never sure of.”

It looked to be enough to outfit a magical army. The old flash amulets alone would be worth a fortune these days. If Han sold this lot, he could build a palace for every resident of Ragmarket and Southbridge and have enough left over to retire to his castle on the Firehole.

He thought of the Bayars, of his colleagues on the Wizard Council, and how eager they would be to get their hands on this hoard.

“What did you plan to do with all this?” Han asked, thinking his ancestor had been a thief, just like him.

“I took it mainly to keep it away from my enemies,” Crow said. “I kept it in reserve, in case things went wrong. As it turned out, I never had a chance to use it, since I was taken by surprise.” His voice trailed off. “I had so many plans, and then—nothing.”

“I’m going to use this to make everybody back off and leave me alone.”

Crow laughed. “Good luck. It didn’t work all that well for me.”