“Well, good thing I did,” Cat said. “Seeing as I saved your sorry…” Her voice trailed off. She stared at his chest, eyes wide, then reached her hand toward Han’s flash.

“Don’t touch it,” he said, tucking it inside his shirt.

“That’s what the demons was looking for,” Cat whispered. “In Ragmarket. They kept asking about a bit of bagged flash, a magical piece, shaped like a snake, with—”

“When were you talking to demons?” Han demanded. “And why would—”

“Blood and bones!” Cat interrupted, staring at the two of them as if they’d just grown horns. “You’re bloody jinxflingers is what you are. It an’t possible.”

“Do you two know each other?” Dancer said, pressing the heel of his hand against his forehead as if it hurt.

Cat dropped to a half crouch and backed away from them, eyes slitted, a blade in each hand. She seemed genuinely terrified.

“Leave off, Cat,” Han said gently. “And put your blades away. We are wizards, true enough, but we an’t going to hurt you.”

Cat quit backing away, but she didn’t come any closer, either. She ran her tongue over her lips and pointed a blade at Dancer. “Who is he, anyway? I never heard of no copperhead jinxflinger.”

“It’s a long story,” Han said, not yet sure what questions he wanted to answer. “Cat Tyburn, meet Hayden Fire Dancer. Dancer’s my friend from Marisa Pines Camp. I know Cat from Ragmarket. We used to run a canting crew together.”

Cat and Dancer eyed each other as Han’s two worlds crashed together in this foreign place.

“He’s a copperhead,” Cat blurted. “What you doing with him?” As if Dancer’s being a copperhead overshadowed the fact that they were wizards.

“He’s my friend,” Han said. “I’ve spent near every summer with the clans since I was little.”

Except the three summers he’d spent with Cat, as streetlord of Ragmarket.

“How did you find us out here?” Han asked Cat, to change the subject.

“I saw those soldiers drag you out of the inn, and figured you was in trouble,” Cat said, still glaring at Dancer. “So I followed you.” She snorted. “I couldn’t believe it. The great Cuffs Alister falling for turtle’d cider.”

A revelation struck Han. “You were the Malthusian sister who drank like a teamster,” he said, recalling the veiled dedicate in the common room. In the last several common rooms, now that he thought about it.

“Least I didn’t go sliding under the table like a ’prentice in his cups,” Cat said, smirking.

“Well, thank you for rescuing us,” Han said. “You probably saved our lives.”

“No probably about it,” Dancer said, smiling at Cat. “Thank you. That was quick thinking. You’re very good with a strangle-cord.”