“You do as I say or I hand the armory to the Wizard Council to arm them against the southerners,” Han said. “Once that cat is out of the bag, there’s no stuffing it back in. And they won’t be beholden to you at all.”

Averill stood, his eyes alight with rage. “How dare you dictate to us, you demon-blooded jinxflinger?” His trader face was gone. He was a Demonai warrior, through and through.

“He is what you and Elena Cennestre created, Lightfoot,” Willo said, standing herself. “He’s offering you the same kind of choice you gave him.”

“There is another choice,” Elena said, every fiber in her body projecting threat, her hand on her Demonai talisman. “Arrows are faster than jinxes.”

The Demonai warriors nocked arrows, drawing their bowstrings taut. Somehow, everybody was standing now, Dancer and Bird flanking Han on either side.

Han forced himself not to take hold of his amulet. Instead, he shook his head, as if disappointed but not surprised. “If anything happens to me, a message will go to Gray Lady, giving the council the location of the armory. So think before you loose.”

He was bluffing, but he was a rum bluffer. The Demonai, keeping their bows drawn, looked at Averill and Elena. After a tense pause, Averill slowly brought his hand down, and they released tension on their bows.

“That’s the trade—take or leave,” Han said. “You collaborate with the gifted, providing them with flashcraft and fighting alongside them, or I give them access to the armory.”

“Hunts Alone did not have to come to us with this trade,” Bird said. “He could have given the armory to the Wizard Council and left us out of it.”

“We need time to consider this,” Averill said. “We will let you know our decision tomorrow.”

“The council is convened.” Han swept his hand around the circle. “Decide now. I’m going to Gray Lady next.”

Night Bird spoke first. “I am Night Bird Demonai,” she announced. “And I vote with Hunts Alone.”

“I am Willo Watersong, Matriarch of Marisa Pines Camp,” Willo said. “And I vote with Hunts Alone.”

Dancer said, “I am Hayden Fire Dancer, son of Willo Watersong. I vote with Hunts Alone.”

Averill and Elena looked at each other.

“I agree to this trade,” Elena said, her weathered face twisted with disgust.

“As patriarch of Demonai Camp, I agree also,” Averill said.

Shilo sighed. “I agree also,” she said. Affirmation rolled around the circle.

“Good.” Han nodded. “Fire Dancer will be in charge of the transfer of flashcraft.” That had been Dancer’s suggestion. He seemed wary of Demonai sabotage.

Averill and Elena looked at each other again, then nodded.