Han just looked back at her steady. I can’t be the first murderer to attend Mystwerk Hall, he thought. Murderers probably get extra credit.

She leaned in again, lowering her voice. “Did you really try to kill Gavan Bayar?”

“He had it coming,” Han said, knowing that the dean had already made up her mind about him anyway.

Abelard sat back, resting the heels of her hands on her desk. “I can tell you’re not stupid, so I’m wondering why you’d take that kind of risk.”

“It was him or me,” Han said. “Next time I’ll aim better.”

Unexpectedly, the dean laughed. “You have no remorse at all. I like that.”

I’m not the one should be sorry, Han thought.

The dean just sat and looked at him for another long moment.

“Well, then,” he said, scooting to the front of his seat. “You got the goods on me fair. Is that all? That healing has wearied me out, and I’d like to go lie down a while.”

Abelard raised both hands as if to push him down in his seat. “Not so fast,” she said. “I have something to discuss with you—an opportunity.”

“Opportunity?” Han settled back in his chair. “What do you mean?”

“The political situation in the Fells is becoming untenable,” Abelard said. “The truce between the Gray Wolf line, the savages, and the Wizard Council is dissolving. We wizards are prisoners of restrictions from another time, based on a tragedy that probably never happened.”

“The Breaking, you mean.”

Abelard nodded. “The limitations on magic and magical weapons, the restrictions on wizards politically, it makes us weak—too weak to defend ourselves. Many of us believe that the wars in Arden will spread to the rest of the Seven Realms. Here at the Ford we are particularly vulnerable, having no barrier of mountains to protect us.”

“I’ve heard that,” Han said, wondering why the powerful dean of Mystwerk House was delivering this little speech to the likes of him.

“The Valefolk and the copperheads must be forced to see reason. There will be a need for wizards with your particular skills in the near future,” Abelard said.

“My particular skills?”

Abelard steepled her hands. “Those willing to spill blood if need be. Those who are…experienced in that line of work.”

Han cleared his throat, thinking he must have misunderstood. “You’re looking for an assassin?”

“I need someone with the flexibility to do whatever is required.” Abelard rose and walked to the wall of windows, looking out over Mystwerk quad. “You would seem to be uniquely qualified—bright, powerful, and totally without scruples.”

These are dark times, Han thought, when everybody’s in the market for a killer.

Abelard turned back toward Han, and must have read resistance in his face. “Don’t worry. You will be well compensated, and no one will dare attack you openly while you are under my protection. I intend to return to the Fells within the year. If you prove capable, I will take you with me.” She paused, then added delicately, “I hope your attachment to that mongrel copperhead won’t prove to be a problem.”