Sereg had no sword on him, just the steel bound staff, no doubt as heavy as a solid rock. Kangassk, a smith’s apprentice, knew the very moment he saw that thing that it was no mere walking stick but a weapon as deadly as a sword in the right hands.

“I came through the Chasm,” said Sereg in a hollow voice.

“Why?!” exclaimed Vlada.

“I was in a hurry.” He bowed his head slightly. “Didn’t want to be late.”

Sereg and Vlada sat at the edge of the cube. They paid no attention to Kangassk at all, he just stood there, as still as a statue, his hands resting on the chargas’ necks.

Sereg took a deep breath.

“Vlada,” he said in a grave voice, “it’s not easy for me to say this… At first, after my journal had disappeared I didn’t think much of it. Yes, I put an incineration spell on the journal no thief would survive. But I remembered showing it to Orion and thought that maybe after I had removed the spell back then I just forgot to restore it…”

“What happened, Sereg?” asked Vlada quietly.

Sereg didn’t answer, not with words, at least. Instead, he removed something from his neck and showed it to Vlada. Kangassk could see it too. It was a silver pendant on a long chain, once beautiful, now brutally vandalized as if someone had torn a big jewel out of its delicate pattern.

“No one besides us could have survived touching this,” stated Sereg. “You know why.”

Before Sereg said this, Kangassk had been just angry. Now, he was furious. He didn’t care for the unimportant details, like the fact that those two both were mages, obviously, but he did care about that man bluntly accusing Vlada of theft… His strength boosted by anger, Kan covered the distance between Sereg and himself in one jump.

“How dare you!” he shouted. “I know her! Vlada is honest and brave! She’d never fall so low as to steal some stupid bauble!” The grim silence that followed was like oil poured on the flames to Kan’s anger. “Apologise to her! Now!” he demanded.

Sereg gave the Kuldaganian boy a long, grim look. An expression of subtle mocking cruelty crossed the mage’s young face. The next moment Kan thought that he probably should have ran while he still could. The mage grabbed his staff and, leaning on it, slowly drew himself up to his full height. Kangassk had to crane his head to keep the eye contact, just like little Zanna had to recently. Sereg’s eyes were no longer grey, there were eerie blue fires lurking in them now.

“Be silent, soothsayer,” said Sereg with a distant, cold threat in his voice and a bit of the recent cruel mockery now put into words, “In my North, carrying a soothstone is worth from five to ten years of prison and all that time you’ll be busy felling trees in the bitter cold. Just saying.”

Kangassk flinched away from the mage, grasping at Zanna’s stone. He no longer felt brave or heroic, suddenly very much aware of what being an ordinary guy in a fairy tale feels like.

“Whoa, Sereg, take it easy,” Vlada stepped in. “His bride gave him that stone, he had no idea what it was.”

Sereg threw a suspicious glance and Kan, sniffed contemptuously, flicked the dust off his cloak, and seated himself on the stone beside Vlada again.

“Where did you find this little fool?” he asked with a sneer, his voice still ringing with distant anger.

“In Kuldagan. He insisted on coming with me, didn’t want to let me go into the Burnt Region alone. He is my valiant protector, sort of.”

Sereg glanced again at the startled boy who still stood there grasping at his stone, and gave a little choke of laughter.

“It’s not funny,” said Vlada reproachfully. “Way too many people had mistaken me for a mortal girl and gave their lives trying to save me. Kan had nearly lost his head too.”