The older boy pulled himself together in a show of bravado. “You have to obey this!” he protested, holding up a coin-like amulet on a leather thong. The metal circle was inscribed with a coiling symbol that showed a path with neither beginning nor end, but half of it was obscured by a dark smear. It was still smoking from being passed through the flame.

Chance’s lips curled in a mockery of humor while his eyes narrowed in calculation. “Where did you get that?”

“It belonged to my grandmother. She met one of your kind, and they gave her this.” The boy was bolder now. He spoke with authority.

“I see,” said Chance. “And she knows that you have it? She gave it to you?”

The boy opened his mouth, faltered, and said nothing. No doubt he had been warned not to lie to whomever the amulet brought. “I stole it,” he admitted. “I stole it from my father, who never gave me anything. But his mother, she was kind to me sometimes, when my father’s wife couldn’t see. She’s old now. She hasn’t remembered me for more than a year.”

Chance leaned forward slightly, frowning. “Stealing another’s rewards is a risky thing, as foolish as taking on another’s debts. You still have time. Return the amulet.”

“Please, Xandre!” Lukas squeaked, breaking his silence at last. “We should do as he says!”

Xandre turned on Lukas, his face changed in an instant from fear to contempt. “He is the one who has to do as we say! Do you want your father’s murderer to walk free?”

“What’s this about a murder?” Chance interjected. “I don’t kill people. If you know anything about the amulet, you know that.”

“No,” Xandre breathed. “You don’t get to kill him. I do. You just have to help me get close.”

It was hard going through that emotion again, the mingled pity and disgust that filled him both then and now as he looked at the boy’s fanatical face. “What makes you so eager to kill his father’s murderer? Who appointed you his avenger?”

The boy stared at him as if trying to impress him with his steadfastness of purpose. “He’s killed others—people I knew, people who helped me. And he’ll kill again.”

Chance pondered. He hated amulets, but occasionally there were instances when humans did some favor that deserved compensation. Of course, the idea was that they would use their reward to benefit, not harm. Where did killing a murderer fall on the scale of good to evil? Particularly a murderer who might kill again? And did this boy really have the strength of mind to do it?

“Show me the man,” Chance said.