“I see you’re as wide awake as I am,” the magician said, smiling into the bewildered young eyes. “Do the grace of walking with me. A touch of evening air and a bit of exercise are doubtless just what we both require.” The boy simply stared. Lute smiled more widely, took a firmer grip on the arm and pulled him, unresisting, toward the kitchen and the door.

“Come,” he said softly. “I’ll tell you a story while we walk.”

* * *

THE MOON WAS high, limning the countryside in silver, and the stars hung pure and unflickering just out of Lute’s longest reach. He looked around with genuine pleasure.

“What a delightful scene! What delightful country, certainly, once one climbs out of the village. I thought of settling here this afternoon.”

“But your mistress has no mind to rest,” Cedar said, with a touch of his former acidity.

“You mistake me, child. I am my own man. And the Lady Moonhawk is indeed a Witch out of Circle, properly attired or not. We happen to travel in the same direction. When either of us chooses a different way, why, then we shall part company.”

Cedar unlatched the gate and they stepped through onto the track. Once more Lute looked about him. “Truly delightful! What direction shall we walk?”

Hope flickered in the boy’s face, clearly discernible in the moonlight. He turned east, toward the village. “This way,” he said eagerly.

Lute extended a hand, caught the boy’s arm and turned him firmly west. “I’ve a fancy for this way, myself. Come, walk with me.”

Hope died in that instant; the boy’s shoulders sagged and something in his face crumbled—but he stayed stubbornly rooted, resisting the gentle tug of Lute’s hand.

“Come,” Lute repeated. He gestured with his free hand and plucked a silver bit from the starry air. Taking the boy’ s resistless fingers, he turned palm up and placed the money there, closing the fingers firmly.