“Dean Abelard!” Han said, feigning surprise. “This is good luck! I need to talk to you.”

Abelard’s eyes narrowed. She took a step back, looking up and down the street as if suspecting an ambush.

“It won’t take long,” Han said. He nodded toward the tavern. “Shall we?”

“I prefer to talk in here,” Abelard said, swiveling and stalking back into the bookshop. Which was fine with Han, since that was what he’d intended all along.

This would be the tricky one. If Abelard wouldn’t go along, his plans were in ruins. Not to mention the fact that she might lose her famous temper and try to reduce him to ash.

They met in the back room, amid stacks of musty-smelling leather-bound books. It was where she usually met with her footpads. She sat down in her usual chair, while Han sat on the stepladder used to reach the higher shelves.

“My, my, Alister, we are armored up today, aren’t we?” Abelard said, quickly regaining her footing. “Are you anticipating an attack? Does this mean that you are going to tell me something I’m not going to like?” Her hand crept nearer to her amulet.

Han silently swore. He should have known the powerful dean could spot magical protection. Well, at least it gave him easy entry to a topic that was hard to bring up.

“That’s possible,” he said, feigning indifference. “The truth doesn’t sit well with some people.”

“You’re going to tell me the truth? How refreshing,” Abelard said, raking back her hair. “Do go on.”

“There’s no chance you’ll win a vote for High Wizard,” Han said. “If the vote goes ahead as planned, Micah Bayar will win.”

“That’s a rather gloomy prediction, coming from one of my supporters.” That she didn’t argue about it told Han she expected the same. “Perhaps we can convince Lord Bayar to put off the vote again, until Mordra arrives.”

Han shook his head. “Unlikely. Why would he delay? Even Lord Gryphon agreed to take a vote at this meeting, with or without Mordra.”

“I had thought that Gryphon might excuse himself from attending,” Abelard said, scowling. “You heard about his parents?” She fixed Han with her sharp gaze.

Han nodded, wondering if she knew more about Gryphon’s parents’ death than she was letting on. “But he is coming?”

“Yes.” Abelard shrugged. “That seems coldhearted, don’t you think?”

Maybe the dean had met with Gryphon, had tried to win his vote, and had failed.

This was the dangerous part. Han had a story, but didn’t know if Abelard would buy it. He couldn’t very well tell her that Fiona Bayar was his ally.

“Gryphon and I had our differences at Oden’s Ford, but we’ve worked that out since he came back home,” Han said.

“Really,” Abelard said skeptically. “This is the same Master Gryphon who expelled you from class?”