Montaigne rubbed his chin, nodding. Han could tell the young prince liked this line of thinking. “If I’m going to take this kind of risk, I want to do it with some likelihood of success,” Montaigne said. “Yet you bring me a pair of scruffy-looking boys. If they had any magical skill, you’d never have taken them.”

Karn cleared his throat. “They don’t look like much, aye, but as you said, it’s unlikely we could capture a fully schooled mage. These ones’ll be more tractable. Don’t know how much training they’ve had, but their amulets are packed with power.”

“What do you know of such things?” Montaigne glared at Karn, and Karn shifted his eyes away.

This prince of Arden doesn’t know his captain is gifted, Han thought. Karn’s kept it from him. With good reason, it seemed.

“If we use a weapon we don’t understand, it’s likely to explode in our faces,” Montaigne went on. “Remember what happened with the fire powder?”

Karn said nothing. He likely knew when to speak and when not to. Han wondered how much the captain really knew about magic and mages, as he called them. Could he have received any training in a place like Arden, where magic was forbidden?

Montaigne chewed on his lower lip. “If the jinxpieces are so powerful, couldn’t we just use the amulets and dispose of these two?” he asked, as if Han and Dancer were merely magical wrappings to be thrown away. The prince of Arden either assumed they couldn’t understand the flatland speech, or didn’t care.

Fossnaught shook his head. “Mages and amulets work together, Your Grace. One’s no good without the other.”

“Anyway, these mages must have safeguarded their amulets against use by anyone else,” Karn added. “The fair-haired boy’s jinxpiece blistered my hand when I tried to pick it up.” Karn held up his hand. It was wrapped in bandages.

Han didn’t look at Dancer, but he knew they were both thinking the same thing—they had no clue how to safeguard their amulets from anyone. He didn’t know why Karn couldn’t touch his flash, unless Han’s stored power was incompatible with Karn’s.

Unless it was demon-cursed.

All he knew was that the loss of his amulet had left him with an empty, sick feeling. He felt hollowed out and hungry for the magic he’d lost. How could he have become so linked to it in such a short time? He desperately wanted it back.

“The magelings will turn on us at the first opportunity,” Montaigne argued. “We’ll never be able to trust them.”