They reached the mouth of the alley and he bit out, "We need to split up." He gave her a shove to the right as he bolted left.

No time to argue or even think. The guards were almost on them. She took off running in the direction Kerryl shoved her while a hue and cry rose behind her and spread, picked up by townspeople and soldiers shouting of thieves at the Mage's Guild storehouse. She ran until the stitch in her side was so severe she could not walk, let alone run. Besides, to be seen running when a hunt was on for a thief was more dangerous than not. She slowed and dived into a darkened doorway to catch her breath. Now what?

The faint, distant shouts changed in tenor. She eased closer to the street to listen. A roar had overtaken all the other sounds. Something to do with a guild storehouse being breached. Of it not being guarded.

Well, of course not. The guards had chased her and Kerryl from the structure. Glee entered the tone of that roaring mob. As of many, many people joyfully anticipating robbing their oh-so-beloved empire.

But then a new sound intruded upon the celebration. Boots running in unison. Like a mass of soldiers quick-timing their way to the warehouse. More sounds ruptured the night: Battle cries. The screams of wounded. The cries of a mob fleeing. Of soldiers pursuing. In short, Dupree was in chaos.

Just the sort of chaos she could hide within and slip away from here. So far, the street before her was relatively quiet. Only a few townspeople had raced by earlier.

At least she had nothing of value on her person from the warehouse. Just that stupid little piece of wood. No one would miss it or know it for Aurelius's, right? Still, to be safe, she'd better dump the stupid thing where no one would find it or associate it with her. A woodpile across town. Or a trash heap.

She should just walk out of here as if she'd done nothing. That was it. Play it cool and pray the warehouse guards had not seen that a black-skinned lizardman girl was one of the thieves who started this whole riot.

She stepped out of the doorway.

And all but ran into a patrol of soldiers.

"There's a lizardman! Get her!"

Swearing, she took off running again. If they caught her, she'd never get her Tribe mark. Not to mention, she would be so dead.

Raina hurried along beside the Landsgrave of Hyland through chaos unlike anything she'd ever seen before. Apparently, there had been some sort of break-in at a guild warehouse, dozens or hundreds of locals had partaken in a looting spree, and now Anton's men were chasing them down in a vain attempt to recover the stolen goods.

She desperately wished for Cicero's sword and steady countenance at her side. But he had prudently elected not to accompany her to the governor's council table.

"Oh, for stars' sake," Hyland muttered in irritation. "Cannot Anton even manage to keep order in his own city? He has an entire army at his disposal."

"It appears to me," she offered hesitantly, "that Anton's army is contributing to the overall disorder rather than containing it."

Hyland threw her an aggrieved look. "Aye. Just so. The legion has no discipline at all. It is a disgrace." He added as a running mob of youths wielding clubs raced past, jostling her into him, "Move to my left side and stay by me as if we've got a paste of stickiness joining our cloaks."

She nodded and did as told. "Why the left side?" she asked as the street quieted once more.

"Most swordsmen fight right-handed. A backpack healer should stay left, out of their way and behind their shield, but close enough to pump healing and magical shields into the warrior as they need it."

"Could you show me how to do that, sometime?" She was always eager to learn more about the many ways of using magic.

He snorted. "You may get to practice it before we reach my house across town. We have to pass through the Great Square, and if I know Anton's sergeants, there will be a full-blown brawl in progress there."

In fact, the brawl was just winding down when they reached the main square. She recognized Captain Krugar bellowing orders and personally shackling soldiers who failed to stop fighting immediately. Problem was, townspeople kept taking potshots at the soldiers and restarting the hostilities.

Hyland took one look at the scene and drew his sword. The blade glowed as he strode forward, shouting out orders of his own. Raina was intrigued that the townspeople seemed prepared to obey his command to disengage when they completely ignored the governor's men.

Between Hyland and Krugar, the two mobs were separated quickly. And that was when the carnage became fully apparent. Dozens of people lay on the ground bloodied and broken. Some appeared to have been trampled, others run through with bladed weapons, yet others simply beaten to a pulp.

Hyland glanced over his shoulder at her. "You know all the standard healing spells?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Then have at it."

How on Urth was she supposed to deal with a dozen or more dead and what looked like a hundred badly injured spirits?

Hyland must have caught her look of dismay, for he instructed, "Life the dead and give the dying the minimum healing necessary to keep them alive. If you've stabilized everyone and have any magic left, go back through and fix the most seriously injured."

She took a deep breath and called magic to her. Although the density of humanity was high in this place, only a portion of them were natives of this continent, tied to it in the same way she was. But there were enough of them. She drew their spiritual power to herself like a cloak.

There was no time for delicacy in delivering healing. She moved from body to body, combat casting life spells as fast as she could incant them. Thankfully, there were only eleven actual dead upon the ground. She got to all but one of them in time to prevent a resurrection, and that fellow had likely been beyond a life spell before she arrived in the square. As Hyland had instructed, she turned her attention to the dying next, casting just enough magic into them to keep them alive.

She was starting to feel fatigued and hungry as the toll upon her mind and physical body rose, but there were injured people everywhere she looked. She dug deep and continued to draw magic to her. Pull, incant, cast. Over and over, she cast basic healing magic. The faces blurred together as she grew more and more exhausted. Finally, when she was too tired to move around, a nearby voice gave an order for the wounded to be brought to her.

As she drew near the end of her resources, someone put a strong, gentle arm around her shoulders to support her while she gasped the incants and forced the magic out of herself and into her targets.

And then it was over. No more injured people remained in front of her. With huge effort, she raised the back of her hand to mop the sweat off her brow. She gazed around and realized two things: first, Hyland was the one with an arm around her, holding her upright almost entirely of his accord, and second, a strange, almost reverent, silence had fallen across the Great Square. Everyone she could see was staring back at her. Like she was some kind of freak.

"Why are they looking at me?" she murmured to Hyland.

"You really have no idea how unusual you are, do you?" he responded.

She didn't know how to answer that, nor did she have the energy left to figure it out.

"It has been a long time since an arch-mage took the field." He shrugged and added, "Not to mention they are not used to a healer of your power turning her resources upon commoners when Anton's men are about."

She frowned. Why wouldn't a healer heal commoners?

"You must be hungry," Hyland continued. "My wife was always ravenous after a long healing session, and she couldn't do a fraction of what you just did. Come, child. Let us get you under a roof. You're done for the night, anyway." He added under his breath, "After healing half the town, you should be done, at any rate."

She turned to accompany him from the square and that was when she spied a man lurking in the shadows at the edge of the square. A man who made her blood run cold. A tall man wearing a dark cloak. Was that blue, mayhap? They've found me.

His eyes practically bugging out of his head, Will struggled frantically against Aurelius's claw-like grip on his jugular but to no avail.

The guildmaster flung Will away from him and commenced pacing the office in high agitation, muttering to himself in a tirade Will only half-understood.

Shaken, Will straightened his shirt and rubbed at his throat. What was that all about? Had the solinari not just finished telling Will all about the proud tradition of his father's name and the honor it was for Ty to have been given it? He surreptitiously eyed the glowing door and a possible escape from the crazy guildmaster.

Aurelius explained carefully as if it were of utmost importance that Will understand, "If you were, in fact, the son of that ... person ... I would be required to arrest you and hand you over to the governor forthwith for execution. Not only was that person sentenced to death, but all of his family and issue were also. It is all well and good to speak of the past, but that man is dead, and were he to have had children, they would surely have been put to death by now as well."

Will stared in utter shock. There was a death sentence active against him?

"If, stars forbid, the son were to survive and inherit any of the father's talent for certain rare skills like, oh, magic, learning how to use it would be strictly illegal. I would have to exercise my full authority as Guildmaster of the Imperial Mage's Guild of Dupree to put an immediate end to such training and turn the child over to the authorities. Do you comprehend me, boy?"

Will nodded fearfully. He clasped his hands behind his back, terrified that by some stray glimmer they might give away his ability with magic. Aurelius must have noted the movement, for he nodded knowingly. "So, tell me, Will the cobbler's son. Can you cast magic?"

"I've ... uh-h ... never been formally schooled," he stammered.

"That is not what I asked. Can you cast magic?"

"A little. After a fashion."

"No, no, no!" Aurelius bellowed. "Have you not listened to anything I've said?" He moved toward Will threateningly. "Where is your talisman? Hand it over."

"Talisman?" Will repeated, confused.

"Yes. Your talisman. The magical object you use to focus your mind and call magic to you. Give it to me."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Will retorted. He had no weapon at hand, but an instinctive compulsion to protect himself surged to the fore. His hands whipped up as the guildmaster stalked toward him, a ferocious scowl on his face, his skin gleaming metallically in the lamplight. The solinari drew within about two body lengths of him-his effective range with a repelling spell-and Will mentally pushed him back. The elf halted mid-step, leaning forward but coming no closer.

"Ahh. There it is. The stone in your bracelet. That is your talisman."

Will stared at his own wrist. His bracelet? His father had given it to him when he was a boy. Before he learned how to summon magic. The stone had been a gift from Adrick, and Ty had braided it into a leather wrist band for him. Recollection of his father asking if he'd had the bracelet on that last night when the hollow was under attack flashed into Will's mind. That was why his father had asked. He'd checked to make sure his son had one of these talisman things so he could cast magic.

Aurelius stepped back and gave a curt nod. "You look like the type to whom force magic might come naturally. The Dragon's Roar is sound magic, but De'Vir was a skilled kinetic mage. Apparently, you share his talent for it."

Kinetic magic? What was that? Were there different types of magics, then? Everyone knew of spirit magic, of course, but that was special. "Uh-h, begging your pardon, but I was never taught force magic."

The solinari went silent, staring at Will speculatively. Eventually, he commented cryptically, "Better. Cautious, he was. Smart. Sit, boy. I will return in a moment." The elf swept out of the room.

What on Urth? Now the guildmaster was back to being friendly to him? His brain felt whiplashed. Did he dare make his escape now? Or would the knight from before be standing outside the door to keep him here ... assuming Will could even figure out how to pass through the glowing magic protections upon the door in the first place? Will tugged his sleeve down over his wrist band, hiding his talisman from sight. He glanced around, spying the only visitor's chair in the office, a four-legged wooden stool with a vertical back of narrow slats. He sighed. Like it or not, he was effectively caged. He perched on the uncomfortable stool like a naughty schoolboy.

Truth be told, he was a little surprised he'd hit the guildmaster with that spell. In his limited experience messing around with magic in the woods back home, it was an inexact science at best. He'd initially assumed that casting magic would be like throwing a rock. It would travel straight and true at his target. But he'd found it to be more akin to tossing a pitcher of water toward a target. Magical energy curved and twisted and bent with a mind of its own once loosed. It took great force of will to drive the magic forward to a target with any accuracy at all.

He'd heard the great battle mages could deliver magical damage at a range upward of a hundred feet. Mages like his father, he thought bitterly. He had a hard time crediting such rumors, though. He'd been practicing in secret for years and his effective range was no more than twenty feet.

The guildmaster did indeed return in a minute or two. He promptly sat down at his desk and removed a blank sheet of parchment, a fresh quill, and an inkwell out of a drawer. Will watched in silence as the elf trimmed a quill and unstoppered the ink pot.

Aurelius poised his hand over the page. "Have you any name besides Will?"

"You know full well that my family name is De'V-"

Aurelius cut him off sharply. "We've already covered this. You. Have. No. Name. Am I clear?"

"But-" He broke off. His true identity must disappear forever if he wished to live, apparently. He said hesitantly, "Perhaps you could spell out my name for me, Guildmaster?"

Aurelius smiled broadly. "Will is an easy enough name to spell. Common. Cobblerson is too cumbersome for a last name, though. How about something shorter? To the point. Cobb." He scribbled on the sheet of parchment before him. "Yes. Will Cobb. That is how your name is written."

Will had no wish to run afoul of the Empire. But apparently, the fact of his birth had already put him on the wrong side of the law. The solinari bent his attention to drafting several long paragraphs. Will tried to read the script upside down, but the print was too small and ornate to decipher.

Aurelius sprinkled sand on the document and, when the ink was dry, blew the sand back into its stone box. He finished the document by melting bright blue wax at the bottom and pressing the ring on his right-hand middle finger into the cobalt puddle.

"This is my report upon your magical testing to Anton."

Will leaped out of the chair. "My father did you a favor! He sent me to you for help! And you wish to reveal my magic that he tried so hard to hide to his greatest enemy?"

"Far more is afoot here than a simple raid by orcs. Ty the cobbler did the right thing to send you to me. And now I do the right thing in return." Aurelius shrugged. "Unfortunately for you, the only way to ensure the complete silence of the son of Tiberius De'Vir would be to kill him. Tiberius was well known. Anton despised him. And after your stunt in the council with the Dragon's Roar, you are known as well. It is exceedingly fortunate for you that you are this other person, Will Cobb and that your talent for magic is limited."

Limited? Exactly how many untrained youths walked in here doing this Dragon's Roar thing?

"The Mage's Guild will, of course nurture what little talent you have. But you are far too old to ever train up fully."

Impotent rage at his father rose up in Will's chest before he caught the twinkle in Aurelius's eyes. Oh. The anger drained away, leaving him sad. His father's name was all he had left of him. It felt utterly wrong to cast that off like a ragged shirt. It was who he was. This was how the Empire repaid its loyal servitors? Do it a favor and it casually stripped you and your family of everything it was for its own convenience?

In the midst of his confusion, something took shape within Will, a nascent sense that he did not deserve what was happening to him. If he did not go along with changing his name and casting off his father's legacy, he would die swiftly and brutally at the hands of the Empire, sicced on him by his father's adopted father. After watching his friends and neighbors be slaughtered like sheep, he was not about to stand here quietly and allow the same to be done unto him.

"How can this be the right thing to do?" Will demanded. "His name is all I have left-"

"You never had his name. It was never yours. And it is not yours now," Aureilius responded with terrible urgency. "These are the facts, boy."

The guildmaster's expression remained intense. In desperation, Will cried, "But what about the Sleeping King? My father told me to finish the quest. To find and wake him before freedom dies. Before memory of hope is lost-"

That got a reaction out of the solinari.

Aurelius snarled and advanced upon Will with naked fury glittering in his blazing golden eyes. Will's hands rose up of their own volition in front of him. What had his father gotten him mixed up in? Had Ty known this would be the outcome of this interview? Had he sent his son here to die?

"Do not speak of that again!" the solinari snarled in palpable threat.

In his burgeoning horror and terror, a surge of magic rose up in Will greater than anything he'd ever experienced before. He did not stop to think. He merely let instinct take over. He gathered the energy into a great, burning ball and hurled it at the elf menacing him.

Kaboom!

The explosion nearly knocked Will off his feet. It did knock Aurelius off his. It blew the guildmaster backward a half-dozen feet, in fact, slamming him into the bookcase with enough force to send disintegrated books and incinerated bits of parchment flying every which way. Flaming paper rained down like burning snow.

Will turned in panic for the door. It was not glowing. He didn't stop to ask why but merely bolted through it. Footsteps pounded on the stairs, coming up fast, along with the telltale jingle of chain mail. The drake, Bruin. Will raced down the hall to the stairs nonetheless. It was the only way he knew out of the building.

Will jumped down the steps two and three at a time. He rounded a bend, took a great leap, and jolted as Bruin careened into sight in front of him. Will lowered his shoulder and let his downward momentum slam him into the guard. Both of them went tumbling, but Bruin was on the bottom and wearing heavy armor, and he got the worst of it by far. Will regained his feet and tore onward while Bruin struggled to untangle his armor and hoist himself to his feet.

Will burst into the common room and raced straight for the intricate lock he'd spied upon his arrival. The key still hung on its hook beside it. Thanks be to the Lady. He snatched up his pack, ripped the key off the wall, and jammed it at the big lock. It slid into its slot easily and turned smoothly.

The front door ceased glowing. Bruin burst out of the stairwell and Will dived for the door. He made it outside onto the stoop before Bruin caught up with him. The guard grabbed and Will ducked, as slippery as any pickpocket dodging capture. But the guard did clip his shoulder, spinning him off balance and sending him tumbling head over heels.

Will was too off balance already, too startled by the unexpected impact, to control the fall like Ty had taught him. He landed in a heap at the foot of the guild steps, banging his knees painfully and scraping his palms on the rough cobblestones. He staggered to his feet and stumbled a few steps before regaining his wits and balance.

A quick movement caught his eye-a dark shape barreling at him from the alley beside the Mage's Guild. He braced himself instinctively, throwing up his forearm to absorb the blow. Something-someone-slammed into him, nearly knocking him off his feet again. He grabbed on to the other person to steady himself and was shocked by the inhuman face only inches from his. Covered with fine black scales, the creature looked more like a swamp monster than any sort of humanoid. But then a frantic gaze met his, eyes so black Will could not tell iris from pupil, and the terror glinting in them was entirely humanoid. A lizardman girl.

He felt the creature's hands move between them, groping for Will's pocket. A quick, almost imperceptible nod and the creature tore out of his grasp with incredible strength and raced away. Will turned in the opposite direction and ran. He didn't look back. He just ran.

He didn't stop until he was so out of breath and the cramp in his side so sharp that he had no choice but to stop. He crouched behind a rainwater barrel in a narrow alley, completely lost, his sense of direction blown. He listened carefully but heard no pursuit. For now.

He probably had that lizardman girl to thank for drawing off any who might have pursued him. Wherever she was, he wished her a successful escape. He was fairly certain the reptilian creature had put something into his pocket as opposed to picking anything out of it during their brief collision. He stuck his hand in his pocket. Sure enough, he felt a foreign object there. He pulled it out to have a look at it.

It was a thin, round disk, a thumb's length across, bulging slightly in the middle. It appeared to be made of some sort of red-brown wood. Were it not for that swollen center, it would look like a cross section of a tree branch. As it was, it looked more like an oversized seed of some kind. The whole of it was covered with fine, carved sigils that were incredibly intricate and ancient looking. And ... that was odd ... the disk was faintly warm. A tingle passed through his hand as he rubbed his thumb over the highly polished disk.

Just then something heavy crashed squarely into the middle of his back, throwing him forward.