Crow finally swung around to face Han. A bitter smile twisted his features. “We’ll see,” he said. “We’ll see just how foolhardy you are.” His image changed a little, sharpened, came into focus. His hair remained fair, glittering, framing refined blueblood features—eyes the color of mountain asters and a good-humored mouth. As before, he looked to be only a few years older than Han.

His clothing had become more elaborate—a finely cut coat in satin and brocade, oddly old-fashioned, its champagne color a few shades darker than his hair. He was brilliant with power—handsome as a fancy on the make.

“You’ve asked what I really look like,” Crow said, turning in a little circle, extending his arms. “Feast your eyes. This is how I looked when I went up against the Bayars.”

The wizard stoles around his neck bore images of ravens, and his coat was embroidered with a device—a twined serpent and staff, angled through a crown engraved with wolves.

The device was familiar—where had Han seen it before?

“It was an exciting and dangerous time,” Crow said. “I was young and powerful, and I competed with the Bayars in every arena—politically, magically, and in”—here he stumbled over the words a bit—“in all manner of relationships. Just as it seemed that I had beaten them for good, I was betrayed, and the Bayars captured me. When that happened, I took refuge in the amulet I carried for so long.”

Han tapped his amulet with his forefinger. “You’re saying you hid in a jinxpiece?”

Crow smiled. “Immediate disbelief, as I anticipated. I so enjoy being right all the time. As I told you, I was an innovative user of magic. I hoped that the amulet would end up in friendly hands. Unfortunately, the Bayars realized that the key to everything they desired lay in the flashpiece. Though they have been trying to extract its secrets for more than a thousand years, they’ve been spectacularly unsuccessful.”

Han struggled to assemble the bits Crow had given him. It was like working a puzzle that doesn’t reveal its meaning until the last piece is in place.

Except the image that was forming was impossible.

As if Crow had read Han’s mind, an amulet appeared at Crow’s neck, hanging from a heavy gold chain—the mirror image of Han’s serpent amulet.

“I am the original owner of the amulet you carry now,” Crow said. “I had it custom made for me when I was about your age. I needed something powerful enough to conjure magic the world had never seen before. There is not another like it in the world.”

Han stood frozen, each word he might have spoken stillborn on his tongue.