Han remembered the night he’d agreed to the clans’ sponsorship. He’d asked what would happen if he refused to carry out the terms of the agreement. Averill Lightfoot Demonai had told him that the clans would hunt him down and kill him.

Would Bird be given that assignment, he wondered, glancing at her. Maybe she already had. Her face was a stony mask, but her lower lip quivered just a bit. She’d been sent to do this job on her own. If he refused, would one of them end up dead?

Was that all Bird was to Nightwalker: an expendable tool?

Just like Han was to the clan leadership.

The clans were hedging their bets. If Han didn’t survive this fight with the Wizard Council, they’d have Dancer in reserve, hopefully better trained by then.

Han’s fingers found his amulet and closed around it. He sighed, feeling the welcome release of the magic building up within him. “Dancer’s my friend,” Han said. “What makes you think he’ll agree to stay and let me go on my own?”

“We won’t tell him,” Bird said. “That is why I wanted to speak with you alone. If Dancer knows you are returning to the Fells to fight wizards, he’ll insist on coming too.”

“He’s not stupid,” Han said. “Don’t you think he’ll figure it out? He knows about the deal I made with the clans. You show up out of the blue, we talk, and leave together?”

“Well...” Bird cast about for a solution. “We can make up a story. We can tell Dancer we’re back together and you’re returning with me to Demonai Camp.”

“Dancer knows how I feel about the Demonai,” Han said, not bothering to soften his speech. “And how the Demonai would react to that. He’ll never believe that story.”

His mind churned furiously. He really didn’t want Dancer—or Cat—coming with him, maybe throwing their lives away in a lost cause. Secondly, he didn’t intend to be dragged back to the Fells like a runaway child. He’d go on his own, on his own terms.

“I’ll go alone,” Han said. “I’ll make up a story, say I have to go somewhere for one of the faculty. You’ll stay here for at least a week to throw Dancer off the scent. By the time he realizes that I’m not coming back, it will be too late for him to track me.”

Too late for you to track me, either, he thought.

Bird shook her head. “I’m supposed to escort you to Marisa Pines Camp,” she said. “Nightwalker said—”