Han smiled, nodded, and waved at Micah, all but blowing him a kiss. He found himself a seat to the right, in the second row, where he could keep an eye on Micah. Dancer settled into the empty seat beside him.

In the academy overall, the majority of students were flatlanders. From what Han could tell without the clue of clothing, most in this class were northerners. There were three olive-skinned charmcasters, likely mixed-bloods from Bruinswallow or the Southern Islands. Two were very pale, their hair almost white—they might be from the Northern Islands, where wizards had originated. Some had hair streaked with wizard red.

None from Arden, of course. And none but Dancer carried clan blood.

Han touched his own pale hair, perhaps a gift from Alger Waterlow.

Like Micah, the other students wore their amulets on the outside of their robes—like a gang mark display. It was their one chance for making show. The jinxpieces varied widely. Some were huge and ornate, like jewel-encrusted incense burners from the temple—worth a fortune in materials alone. Others were small and plain—silver and gold in simple shapes, often images from the natural world. Some mimicked animals and plants, and looked almost alive—glowing with elegant clan craftsmanship. Many were probably heirlooms, handed down through families of charmcasters, recharged by clan artists for this new generation.

When he’d worked the streets, Han had dealt in bagged flash, the street name for magical pieces like these. He’d pinch them from careless shop owners or lift them from houses. Fortunately, he’d never tried to take one directly off a wizard. He now realized that it would have been easier to yank out a tooth and slide away unnoticed.

The magical element of a jinxpiece was called flash. At first Han had assumed that the fancier the amulet, the more flash it had—the more powerful it was. In his dealings with fences he’d found out that wasn’t always true. The materials they were made of had more to do with the wealth of the wizard than the power of the piece.

Han pulled his serpent amulet free and let it rest on the front of his robe. It was more than a thousand years old, and only middling showy, but it was likely the most powerful piece of flash in the room.

Dancer exposed his amulet also, the Lone Hunter he’d borrowed from Han. Han wondered if the amulet Elena had made for him was permanent or temporary. That would be worrisome—the knowledge that his amulet would eventually lose power. He was beginning to understand why wizards were unhappy with the clans’ power over them.

Han looked over at Micah whispering with his cousins. It made him twitchy. Han wasn’t used to sharing territory with an enemy. You drove him out, or he drove you out. You hushed him, or he hushed you, and life went on. For one of you.