“It’s in a pouch, slid onto my belt, tucked into my breeches in front,” Han said. It was a thief’s carry, where a slide-hander or pickpocket was least likely to dive unnoticed. If the thief went fishing for it, it might provide an opening, at least.

But the larcener didn’t go for it. Han felt the whisper of steel sliding close, and his cloak slid to the ground, sliced through down the back and across the shoulders.

That was smart—getting all that fabric out of the way first. He hoped this street lifter didn’t plan on slicing his breeches off, too.

“What’s that around your neck?” the thief asked.

Han’s amulet glowed faintly, illuminating the dark corner in front of him.

“Nothing,” Han said, tilting his head down to cover it. “Just something I bought on the streets, for the festival. It lights up.”

“Looks pricy to me,” the larcener said. “Like it might be worth real money.”

“I’ll sell it to you,” Han said. “Paid a fivepenny for it, I’ll sell it for a girlie.”

You have a death wish, he thought, wishing he could suck the words back down. The clans’ great wizard champion would die sliced up by a street larcener. Abelard’s assassin would fall to a common rusher.

“Take it off and toss it back toward me,” the larcener said. “Move slow.”

“Look,” Han said. “How about I toss you my purse instead? My girlie give me this neckpiece, and she’ll skin me alive if I lose it.” If he reached into his breeches he could fetch out his own knife.

“I’ll skin you alive if you don’t give it here,” the thief said.

“All right. I’m unfastening it now. Here I go.” Han slowly lowered his arms from the wall and reached to the back of his neck, fumbling with the clasp on the chain.

He wondered how much power was left in the flashpiece; if it would distract his attacker enough so Han could chance a move on him. It had reacted to Rebecca, anyway.

“Lift the chain over your head,” the thief said. “You don’t got to unfasten it.”

How does he know that? Han thought. Unless the whole point of this shoulder-tap was to get hold of the jinxpiece. Fear snaked down between his shoulder blades.

Han lifted the chain over his head. He palmed the amulet, feeling it vibrate faintly at his touch. Not much to work with. He started to turn.

“Don’t turn ’round,” the larcener said sharply. “Just give it a toss over your shoulder.” Yes. There was something familiar about the voice.

Han tossed the amulet over his left shoulder with his right hand. As the piece flew past his ear, he kept turning, yanking his knife from his waist. As he’d expected, the larcener was momentarily distracted, his gaze following the falling star of the amulet.