“So,” Han said, “did you come here just to give the news?”

“The Demonai are requiring you to honor your agreement,” Bird said, looking straight ahead. “They are calling you home to the Fells to protect the princess heir and to join them in their fight against the Wizard Council.”

For a long moment Han couldn’t speak. His face felt frozen, his lips numb. “What?” he whispered. “Now? I’ve only just started.”

“You’re needed now,” Bird said. “We cannot allow the Wizard Council to put a puppet on the Gray Wolf throne. We will go to war to prevent it. We need your help.”

Han shook his head. “Nuh-uh. Our agreement was that the clans would sponsor my schooling at Oden’s Ford in exchange for my help.”

“We did,” Bird said, though she still wouldn’t meet his eyes. “We have kept our part of the bargain. We would have preferred that you’d had more training, but we have no control over the Wizard Council and what they do.”

It’s my own fault, Han thought. I should never have made a bargain with a trader.

It took him a moment to get his tongue unstuck. “So let me make sure I understand: you mean to send me against Lord Bayar and the Wizard Council—mostly master-level wizards—with two semesters of training?”

“You won’t be alone,” Bird said. “The Demonai will work with you, to—”

“Wait a minute,” Han said. “You said you came for me. Not Dancer.”

Bird nodded, still not looking at him. “Not Dancer.”

“Not that I want to bring him into this, but why just one of us?”

Bird toyed with the hilt of her knife. The Demonai unlidded eye was engraved into the bone handle. “Because the Demonai would like Fire Dancer to stay at school to continue with his studies. We know that your lack of training puts you at a disadvantage. So we hope that eventually Fire Dancer can better assist you in the future.”

“If I’m still alive,” Han growled.

“It’s natural to be afraid, Hunts Alone,” Bird said. “Nightwalker says—”

“Blood of the Demon!” Han growled. “Don’t quote Reid Demonai to me. I have my own reasons for going after the High Wizard. When I do, I’d like better odds. I wouldn’t start a gang war like this, against a ruthless opponent, when I don’t know the game, I’m outnumbered, and I have very few weapons. I’d like to win, and I’d like to survive. I don’t think that’s asking a lot.”

“I’m sorry, Hunts Alone,” Bird said, braiding and unbraiding the fringe on her carry bag. “That is the message I was ordered to bring you. Is there a reply?”