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was called a “Gate” and Falconsbane had somehow gotten caught in the backlash of a spell that had sent him into the void between Gates. Ancar had hauled him out of there, with his very wish for an Adept to come to his rescue! Falconsbane was not only an Adept, he was probably more powerful and knowledgeable than Ancar had dared to imagine. He had enemies—the “Hawkbrothers” he had mentioned, and “others from his past.” He had a vast holding of his own, and Ancar guessed from descriptions that it was to the south and west of Rethwellan, out in the lands purportedly still despoiled by wild magic. He sometimes referred to himself as a “Changechild,” and had said things that made Ancar think that what Falconsbane had done with his own body he could do with others. That was an exciting possibility; it meant that Ancar could infiltrate spies anywhere, simply by substituting his own changed men for people in positions of trust.
    And Mornelithe Falconsbane was Ancar’s entirely. He was, however, not in very good condition. Even with Ancar’s sorcerous support, he had begun to waver during the last few questions. His strength was giving out, and he was still very disoriented. His answers had all come from memory; in order to have an effective servant, he would have to be able to think, and that would require a certain amount of physical recovery.
    I am going to have to get this creature back on his feet—and hide him from Hulda. If I am very, very lucky, she will have attributed the tremors in the fabric of mage-energy to her own passions. If I am not, I shall have to think of something else I could have done that would make the same ripples in the energies .
    He had no doubt that if Hulda got wind of Falconsbane’s existence—at least up until the Changechild was capable of defending himself—the creature would either vanish or end up in Hulda’s control. It was much easier to break coercion spells from outside than it was from within them, and Hulda was still stronger than Ancar.
    Now, where can I hide this little guest of mine?
    He left Falconsbane slumped in the middle of the floor, and hastened down his staircase to summon more of his hand-picked servants. More members of his personal guard; men Hulda never saw, who masqueraded as stable hands and acted as spies among the lowest servants. On his instructions, they brought with them robes and a litter, bundling Falconsbane into it and covering him as if he were sick or injured. Their eyes showed not even a flicker of curiosity at the strange creature. Ancar smiled in satisfaction.
    â€œTake him to the house of Lord Alistair,” Ancar told them. “Tell Lord Alistair that he is to take care of this man, and see to it that he receives the best possible care, under constant guard.” He pulled off his ring and handed it to the ranking officer. “Give him this; he will understand.”
    â€œLord” Alistair was one of Ancar’s own mages, a man he had recruited himself, and on whom he had so many coercions he did not think that Alistair would even be able to use the guarderobe without permission.
    He’s not powerful enough for Hulda to worry about, not attractive enough for Hulda to care about, and I doubt she’s going to try to manipulate him. Even if she does, she’ll leave her mark on my coercions, and I will have ample time to move my little prize before she learns about him.
    The officer accepted the ring and slipped it into his belt-pouch with a bow. He waved to the others to begin the awkward task of taking the litter down the staircase as Ancar stepped back to give them room. But before they had gone more than a step, a voice emerged from the pile of robes on the litter.
    â€œWait—”
    The men stopped, confused. Ancar moved closer to the side of the litter. A pair of feverishly bright eyes looked up at him from under the shadows of a hood.
    â€œWho—are