“Yes, Velona, of course.” Aderno took it for granted, whether Hasso did or not. “Now tell me – what color did the star seem to you?”

“Gold,” Hasso answered automatically.

“Gold? Something, yes, but gold?” That was enough to shake Aderno out of his air of snooty superiority. He stared down his long, straight nose at the German. “Are you certain?”

“Why would I lie? And what difference does it make, anyhow?” At last, somebody who could understand Hasso when he said something – and the cocksure son of a bitch didn’t want to believe him. Hasso wondered if he could do unto Aderno as he’d done unto Sholseth. Maybe he could knock sense into that long, arrogant head if he couldn’t insert it any other way.

“You don’t even know.” That wasn’t a question. Aderno turned away and spoke to Velona. When he did, his words were only gibberish to Hasso. His magic seemed as sensitive, and as adjustable, as a radio tuner. Hasso couldn’t follow Velona’s reply, either. He sighed and shrugged. She was the one he really wanted to be able to talk to, and he still couldn’t. Life seemed to work that way. Aderno gave his attention back to him. “Tell me how you came here.” That seemed clear enough.

Hasso did. He couldn’t see any reason why he shouldn’t. And talking about it – at last being able to talk about it – was a release, and a relief.

When he finished, Aderno sketched another sign in the air. This one glowed the color of the wizard’s shirt. “The truth,” he said, sounding faintly surprised.

“Why would I lie?” Hasso asked again.

For the first time, Aderno looked at him as if he’d said something stupid. “Outlander, man from another world, there are as many reasons as there are fish in the sea, as many reasons as there are leaves on the trees. You could have been part of some new wicked plot the Grenye have hatched – “