“Still fighting,” Han said. “And the provosts are still rounding them up.”

“Bloody provosts,” Lucius muttered, his milky eyes fixed on some private memory. “Them and their curfews. Alger, he used to tweak their pointy noses, let me tell you. He was like a vapor, that boy. He went wherever he wanted, whenever he wanted, and nothing the provosts could do about it.”

“That’s who I wanted to talk to you about,” Han said. “Alger.”

“Alger?” Lucius’s head jerked up, his expression wary. “What about him?”

“What he was like when you knew him?” Han said. “For instance, what did he look like?”

“Well. He was devilish handsome,” Lucius said. “Blond hair and blue eyes the color of the Indio in midsummer. Ladies claimed you could drown in ’em. Well built he was, and he moved like a cat. I wasn’t so bad in my day, but never could compete with Alger Waterlow when it came to the ladies.” Lucius rubbed his nose with the heel of his hand.

“Me and Alger, we once spent a whole weekend in the women’s dormitory at the Temple School. Bunch of dedicates decided against taking vows after that.” Lucius grinned a gap-toothed grin, which faded quickly. “’Course all that catting around ended when he met Hanalea.”

“How did he get along with the other students?” Han asked.

“There was just something about him,” Lucius said. “Folks wanted to be with him. He’d draw you in. Soon as he’d walk into a room he’d be the center of attention. Ever’body loved him.”

Han rubbed his chin. He was supposed to believe that the flame-eyed Demon King of the stories was the bang-up cove of Oden’s Ford?

“Ever’body loved him—’cept Kinley Bayar, that is,” Lucius amended.

“Kinley Bayar?” Han asked. “Who’s that?”

“Remember? He was the one was to marry Queen Hanalea.”

“Oh. Right,” Han said.

“They was like oil and water—Kinley and Alger. Kinley always wanted to be in charge. So did Alger—and whenever he and Kinley went head-to-head, Alger usually won, and Kinley couldn’t abide losing.”

“Have you ever been to Aediion?” Han asked abruptly.

“Aediion?” Lucius said, blinking at the rapid change of topic. “A’ course. Plenty of times. That was our back-alley highway. Our secret meeting place, especially during the civil war.”

Which made sense, if Crow was telling the truth.

“Dancer and I have been to Aediion, too,” Han said. “I’ve met someone there who claims to be Alger Waterlow.”

Lucius’s dreamy expression slid away. “Alger? What are you talking about?” The old man leaned forward, agitated, his Adam’s apple jumping as he swallowed.

“That’s why I wanted to talk to you,” Han said. “It doesn’t seem possible, but that’s what he claims, and he knows more about magic than anyone I’ve met.”