Lucius squinted his rheumy blue eyes like it was a hard question, then reached down and hauled a clan-woven fish basket out of the creek. “Catched all of four, so far.”

“Those fish for sale?” Han asked. “I can get you a good price at the market.”

Lucius considered this a moment. “Nope. Going to eat these fish m’self.”

Han settled himself back against a tree and extended his long legs in their flatland breeches. “Need anything to go with?” he asked, patting his backpack. “I have dried peppers and Tamron spice.”

Lucius snorted. “Fish will do me fine, boy.”

“Anything for Fellsmarch?” Han asked.

Lucius nodded. “It’s set aside in the dog run.”

Their business concluded, Han stared out at the rocks pricking the surface of the creek. Lucius still seemed jittery and unsettled. He kept tilting his head this way and that, as if to pick up a scent or a faint sound on the breeze. “You got your cuffs on, boy?” he asked abruptly.

“What do you think?” Han muttered. Like he could get them off.

Lucius seized Han’s arm and dragged back his sleeve, fingering the silver band as if to read the runes by touch. The old man grunted and released Han’s arm, still muttering to himself.

“What’s with you?” Han demanded, yanking at his sleeves.

“I smell hex magic,” Lucius said, in typically incomprehensible Frowsley fashion.

Han thought of the amulet in his carry bag, but decided there was no way Lucius could know it was in there. “What do you know about magic?”

“A little.” Lucius rubbed his nose with his forefinger. “Not enough and too much.”

Han tried again. “What do you know about wizards, then?”

Lucius sat motionless for a long moment. “Why do you ask?”

Han stared at him. Most adults answered questions with questions, but not Lucius.

When Han didn’t answer immediately, the old man clamped his hand down on Han’s shoulder. “Why do you ask?” Lucius repeated fiercely.

“Ow. Hey, take it easy,” Han said, and Lucius let go. “Dancer and I had a run-in with some wizards up on Hanalea,” Han said, rubbing his shoulder. He told Lucius what had happened.

“Bayar, you say?” Lucius scowled and found his fishing pole again. “Thea’s bloody, bloody bones.”

Lucius had been born on the mountain known as Thea, spiritual home of that legendary queen of the Fells. So he favored Thea when it came to swearing, even though most swore by Hanalea.

Han asked him about it once, and Lucius told him that Hanalea was too powerful a word to be flinging around.

“Do you know him?” Han asked.

Lucius nodded. “Know of him. His father more so. Gavan Bayar. He’s the High Wizard, you know. Heart as cold as the Dyrnnewater. Ambitious too. You don’t want to get in his way.”