Even worse, if Han stood for High Wizard, he couldn’t name a single person in the room—other than himself—who would vote his way. He just couldn’t see any way to win. He pressed his hands to his head as if that could stop his thoughts from swirling.

After a few more minor pieces of business, the meeting ended. Han meant to leave right away, so there wouldn’t be time to set up a new ambush, and so nobody would trail him to his secret entrance. But Micah got between him and the door before he could exit.

“Hold on, Alister,” Micah said. “I’d like a word with you.”

The others filed by and out the door, leaving them alone.

“How did you get here?” Micah asked, tilting his head in inquiry. “Did you fly?”

“What do you mean?” Han said, broadening his stance and taking hold of his amulet.

“I didn’t see your horse in the stables. I didn’t see you anywhere along the road. Very mysterious.”

“Why?” Han asked. “Did you want to ride up here together? I wish I’d known.”

“You may be king of the thieves, but this isn’t Ragmarket,” Micah said. “Whatever your game, you’re on our playing field now.”

“I never thought this was a game,” Han said.

“I don’t know what kind of threats you’ve made against Queen Raisa, or why she tolerates you, but if you betray her, or hurt her in any way, I will come after you.” Micah emphasized the last few words in case Han didn’t get it.

“Don’t worry, I have no intention of hurting or betraying the queen.” Han paused, holding Micah’s gaze. “Feel better now?”

“I expect to feel better very soon,” Micah said, smiling. “Take care.” He turned and walked out the door.

Han took every precaution against being followed on his way back to the tunnels, even though he assumed his enemies would wait until he got clear of the Council House before making a move. He glamoured up and traveled through the kitchens again, putting up magical webs to entangle anyone in pursuit. Once convinced that no one had tailed him, he descended to the lowest cellar. Brushing away evidence of his passage as best he could, he dropped open the hatch to the tunnel and lowered himself through, fastening the door behind him. His saddlebags still lay where he’d left them.

Looping them over his shoulder, he opened the door to the rock chamber where the boiling spring had been. He didn’t look forward to enduring that again. But he found himself in a dry rock chamber. Steps led up to the chamber above.