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I frowned, trying to sort out my questions. Finally, I gave up. “You said my soul was in danger from Antonin. Why? I mean, how could he have hurt me that way?”

Wooooooooo…rat, tat, tip, tat…Momentarily, the wind picked up and ice chunks rattled against the roof overhead.

Justen wrapped the overlarge cloak around himself. “Take off your boots. Your feet need the air.” He shrugged, trying to make himself more comfortable on the straw. “Antonin is the strongest of the white magicians. A chaos-master, if you will. Wielding chaos is extraordinarily hard on both body and soul, and most white magicians die young. Powerful, but young. Antonin, and Gerlis, and by now I would suspect Sephya, have attained the power to somewhat postpone their early demise, by transferring their personality and ability to other and younger bodies, preferably to bodies already equipped with the talent and unaware of their own defenses. You fit the bill admirably. That’s why I decided to move you away from Antonin. He was preoccupied with Sephya and her…situation. He didn’t really sense you. Your innate defenses are good enough to conceal you from a quick look.”

I shivered again. “Thank you.” I struggled and eased off one boot, realizing that while the ice and rain hadn’t gotten through the thick leather, my feet were indeed damp. The second boot came off easier, but my left foot was just a trace smaller than my right anyway.

“Oh, don’t thank me. I did it for me, not you. None of us gray magicians could afford to have Antonin controlling a body with your latent powers. His knowledge is already too great.”

“What do you intend, then?”

“Not much. You can devise your own hell once we’re clear of Antonin. Tomorrow, assuming you’re willing, on the way to Jellico I’ll teach you enough to allow you to block anyone from taking over your body without your consent. Plus, if there’s time, a few other tricks that are pure black and won’t prejudice your decision.”

“My decision?” The words were grunted as I levered off my right boot.

“Whether you intend to be a black, gray, or white magician.” Justen yawned. “I am tired, and so are you. Get some straw together and go to sleep. Rosefoot will certainly let us know if anyone tries to climb up here. So will your pony and your staff. Good night.”

He rolled over and left me sitting in a pile of straw, my pack and boots by my feet, my head twirling with unasked and unanswered questions, and my thighs aching still from too much riding.

For all the aches and questions, I was asleep before long, listening to the wooooooooo…rat, tat, tip, tat…of the wind, ice, and snow, even as I wondered who Justen really was and whether I should trust him. But I slept anyway.

XXVI

WAKING UP IN the Snug Inn stable was nearly the reverse of falling asleep, except colder and noisier.

Whooooo…tip, tap, click, clack…

The wind continued to blow, and my breath was frost-steam in the chill air, so cold that even the dust seemed to have been frozen out of the air.

Rrrruuuurghh…My stomach contributed to the turmoil as well. With one eye open I glanced through the gloom toward the other side of the loft where Justen had spread his cloak. I sat up abruptly, nearly banging my head on the roof truss. The gray wizard was gone. The straw had been pushed back into place as if the man had never been there.

I stretched, jerking myself out of the warmth of my cloak, and brushed the straw off my trousers and tunic, bit by bit, stepping from foot to foot on the cold rough planks. After getting a few stray pieces out of my boots, I pulled warm feet into the cold leather, wincing as I did so.

Scrambling sideways onto the planks by the open bay to the stable below, I stood and stretched again. Then I glanced down at the ponies. Both Rosefoot and Gairloch were chewing something more substantial than hay.

Where had Justen gone?

To the inn? Or on some wizardly errand? Or a more mundane bodily need—one that I needed to take care of as well?

Rrrrrrrrr… My stomach reminded me of