Konic Clava was a large,square-shouldered man with heavily muscled arms and hard callusesfrom many years of plying his trade as a fisherman. His short brownhair and square jaw gave his face the hardened look of a frontiersoldier. His well-proportioned frame gave the impression of someonewho could handle himself in a brawl without working up a sweat.Yet, for all of his hard looks, Konic’s eyes spoke of a kindgentleness beneath his imposing figure. His gray tunic was accentedat the waist by a broad leather belt with loops and notchesdesigned to hold various implements of a fisherman. The only toolcurrently hanging from the belt was a long, sharp knife. When Konicspoke, his voice was low and gravely, yet his soft, sure tone wassoothing and comforting.

“You lads did right well underthe circumstances,” Konic was saying to Arik and Tedi, “although Iwould prefer a solution that didn’t involve forcing drink on MasterMarkel. Still, your solution did keep him safely away from thewitch.”

“Then you believe us, Dad?”smiled Arik.

Konic eased himself to the ground andleaned his back against a large tree. “Of course I believe you,son. If either one of you ever lied to me, you’d have to spendnights on your belly for a month. Arik, I told you once that if youever used that oath I would believe you without question. I meantit and I know you did, too. Most of the villagers would probablybelieve that you were lying because nobody believes in magicanymore. Most of them have not been outside the town in theirentire lives. When Alan and I were searching for your mothers, wesaw and heard things that we would not have believed possiblebefore. I believe you saw a witch and I don’t think she would riskexposing herself because somebody looked in her window.”