The car came to a halt, tires grinding on loose gravel. The trunk opened and he was lifted out—carefully, to avoid contact with his razor-sharp talons. It was the first time he heard either of the voices clearly, but he could tell whose was whose. The higher-pitched, irritating voice could only belong to Dai She. The deep, smooth tone that reeked of venom belonged to the other man.

“So, Mr. Leach, our guest has regained consciousness.”

The hands that held him tensed. “First, let me congratulate you on giving away my identity,” Henry’s father growled. “Second, I insist that you use my chosen name from this point forward.”

“As you wish, Markhor.” It was clear to Randall that Dai She did not like being corrected. He detected a subtle power struggle between the two, seething beneath the surface, which he could possibly exploit later. “But may I also remind you that you have not proven yourself worthy of the Wand Master rank.”

Randall was quite familiar with the hierarchy of the Wandmakers’ Guild. Once a Wandmaker succeeded in making his or her first wand, they became a Wandbearer. With extensive training and practice, a student would advance to First, Second, and Third-Order Wandbearer until reaching the status of Monarch.

From there, only the elite few achieved the rank of Wand Master. It was at that point that the individual could choose a new name befitting their rank.

Henry’s father had apparently chosen Markhor—“the snake eater.”

Markhor’s hands tensed again in response to Dai She’s insult, but the man offered no rebuttal. The power Randall could sense in those hands was indeed great … and muddled. As if two overlapping forces struggled to control the same body. He didn’t know how to decipher this. Perhaps there was still more to learn from Coralis.

He quickly suppressed the thought. If Markhor was indeed this powerful, he might be able to see through the falcon to his true essence.

And that would ruin everything.

Perhaps Dai She was worried—as he should be. While he may have convinced himself of his superiority, there was a long history of students surpassing their teachers in the realm of Wandmakers.

Randall detected movement. “This is quite a collection you were carrying, young falcon.” He could hear Dai She examining the pack of miniature wands and elements from his small, customized pouch. “Why would someone take the effort to train such a bird?”

Randall was lifted, turned, and examined. “Perhaps not trained as a bird.” Markhor’s voice had an ominous undertone. Randall suppressed the urge to lash out with his talons, knowing it would give him away. Feigning ignorance was his best strategy for the moment. But Markhor was not easily duped. “Would a bound bird be so submissive?”