Cinda Chima - The Gray Wolf Throne

Han ate his standard supper of waybread, cheese, smoked fish, and dried fruit, washing it down with tea made from water from the stream. Then he paged through his book of charms, leaning close to the fire so he could see.

Crow could create illusion but did not seem to be able to do magic on his own. He lacked flash, the wizard-generated energy that interacted with amulets to make things happen. So if magic was the only tool that could do damage in Aediion, Han should be safe in returning. If.

Han still wore the rowan talisman Fire Dancer had made for him, the one that had prevented Crow from possessing him during his last visit to Aediion. He had to trust that it would protect him again. It was a calculated risk, but Crow shared his hatred for the Bayars, and Han needed an ally. Crow was likely the only one able and possibly willing to teach Han what he needed to win.

Taking a deep breath, Han focused on the Mystwerk Tower room, their meeting place over his months at Oden’s Ford. He guessed it didn’t matter where he chose, but it was as good a place as any. He visualized the battered floorboards, the huge bells hanging overhead, the pattern of moonlight on the wall. Closing his hand on his amulet, he spoke the traveling charm.

Han opened his eyes to find himself standing in the belfry in Mystwerk Tower, dressed in finely tailored blueblood clothes. Quickly, he scanned his surroundings, keeping his hand on his amulet. He was alone.

He breathed in warm, moist air—southern air. Outside, a cart rattled over cobblestone streets. If he ran to the window, would he see it? If he walked outside and made his way to Hampton Hall, would he find Dancer there? He couldn’t quite get his mind around that.

Han waited. A minute passed. Another minute. Maybe he’d been wrong, and Crow wouldn’t come. Disappointment swelled within him. Patience, Alister, he thought. It’s been a month, and likely Crow doesn’t expect you back.

Finally, the air quivered in front of his eyes, brightened, then seemed to compress.

It was Crow, but different from the Crow Han remembered. The image was frail, insubstantial, his clothes rippling around him like angel wings. Han’s former tutor stood at a little distance, feet spread, arms raised as if for defense. And his hair, which had been soot black, was now a pale blond, nearly translucent, though his eyes remained the brilliant blue Han remembered.

“Hello, Crow,” Han said.

Crow tilted his head, watching Han like he might be jumped at any moment. “Why are you here?” he asked. “I did not think I would see you again.”

“This may be the last time,” Han said, as if he didn’t care either way. “But I thought I’d give you a chance to explain.”

“Why should I explain anything to you?” Crow said, eyes narrowed. “You’ve gained considerably more from our relationship than I have. I handed you the chance to be rid of two of the Bayars and you fumbled it.”

“Fine,” Han said. “Guess this is a waste of time. Good-bye, then.” He took hold of his amulet and opened his mouth as if to say the closing charm.

“Wait.” Crow put up his hands, then slowly dropped them to his sides. For once, he’d left off the baubles and the fancy rigging. “Please stay.”

Han stood, his hand on his amulet, waiting.

“Was there something specific you wanted me to explain?” Crow said, with a sigh. “In the interest of efficiency?”

“I want to know who you are, why you don’t want me to know who you are, why you have a grudge against the Bayars, and why you wanted to partner up with me,” Han said. “That’s for starters.”

Crow rubbed his forehead with his thumb and forefinger, looking done in. “Wouldn’t it be sufficient if I promise not to treat you like a fool in the future?”

Han shook his head. “That’s not enough.”

“Even if I tell you the truth, you won’t believe me,” Crow said. “That’s always the way. People unnecessarily limit themselves, and then they try to limit you.”

“I’m not learning what I need to know here,” Han said. “I’m not the most patient person.”

“Nor am I,” Crow said. “But I have had to be incredibly patient for longer than you can even imagine.” He thought a moment. “Who am I? I was once the Bayars’ enemy. Their greatest rival.”

By now it was clear that the only way Han was going to hear this story was in small bits and riddles. “And now you’re not?” Han said.

Crow smiled faintly. “I suppose you would say I am a shade. A ghost of my former self. A remnant of who I used to be, made up of memory and emotion. The Bayars no longer perceive me as a threat. And yet”—he tapped his temple—“I have something they want very badly.”

“Knowledge,” Han guessed. “You know something they need to know.”

“I know something they need to know, and I intend to use it to destroy them,” Crow said matter-of-factly. “That is the reason for my existence.”

Han was lost. “When you say you are a ghost of your former self, what does that mean, exactly?”

Crow’s image shimmered, dissolved, and then reassembled itself. “This is all that remains of me,” he said. “I am an illusion. I exist in your head, Alister. And in Aediion, the meeting place of wizards. Not in the world you consider real.”

“You’re saying you’re … dead?” Han stared at Crow. “That doesn’t make sense.” At least, it didn’t fit in very well with what he’d been taught at temple. But then he’d never claimed to be a theologian.

Crow shrugged. “What is death? The loss of a body? The loss of the animating spark? If that’s the case, I am dead.

“Or is life the persistence of memory and emotion, volition and desire?” Crow went on, as if in a debate with himself. “If that’s the case, I am very much alive.”

“But you have no body,” Han said.

Crow smiled. “Precisely. I have no corporeal body, nothing beyond what I conjure up in Aediion. And a body is required in order to get things done in the real world. A body is necessary in order to take revenge on the Bayars. Specifically, a wizard’s body, since that would allow me to use my considerable knowledge of magic.”

“And that’s where I came in,” Han said. “I could provide the flash you needed.”

“That’s where you came in.” Crow eyed Han critically, head cocked. “You seemed perfect. You are extremely powerful—surprisingly so. You’d had little to no training, which made you vulnerable to my influence and eager to spend time with me. You hated the Bayars, and, given your tawdry background, I assumed that you were ruthless and unprincipled. All good.”

“All good?” Han asked, rolling his eyes. This was a bit more honesty than he needed.

Crow nodded. “At first I was able to take control of you fairly easily, particularly when you were actively using your amulet. I even provided support at times, when you seemed in danger of being prematurely killed.”

“You mean the thorn hedge, when we were chased across the border into Delphi,” Han said. “And when we escaped from Prince Gerard at Ardenscourt.” Han had immolated several of Montaigne’s soldiers with seemingly little participation on his own part.

“Yes,” Crow said. “But eventually, as you became more adept, you put up rudimentary barriers that kept me out. Very frustrating. I looked for a way back in.”

“And then I came to Aediion,” Han said.

“To my delight, you did.” Crow threw him a sidelong glance. “In Aediion, you were still vulnerable to whatever illusion I conjured up. I could still get into your mind. We could have actual conversations, and I could teach you. That opened a realm of possibilities.”

“But …” Han frowned. “There were still times, even after we began meeting, that you possessed me in real life, right?” he said. He’d found himself on the upper floors of the Bayar Library amid old dusty books. He’d discovered a map of Gray Lady and a list of incantations in his pocket. Scribbled notes that were now tucked away in his saddlebags. “I kept losing big chunks of time on the days we met.”