White Road

honor your bargain again. Please be at Ero Harbor by the first day of Klesin.” He looked up at Seregil. “Anything to add?”
    “Wait for us there and have someone we know keep watch for us at Sea Horse Tavern.”
    Thero nodded and sent the light speeding off to the east. It disappeared through the window and was gone. “That gets you to Plenimar, but how can you take Sebrahn there? You three might be able to blend in, but he won’t.”
    Seregil nodded. “I haven’t worked that out yet. Do you have any suggestions?”
    “Not that I can think of. And what about you, Alec?” the wizard asked, reaching out to tug the end of Alec’s braid. “This hair of yours is like a beacon.”
    “Do it.”
    “Red or brown?”
    “What? Oh—brown.”
    Seregil gave Thero a strand of his hair and Thero performed the transformation spell, leaving Alec’s the same dark brown, then did the same to Sebrahn’s and used the pouch of brown powder to restore the color of his skin. “There. It makes you both look almost full ’faie. I only hope it holds long enough this time for you to do what you need to do.”
    Alec held up his braid. “Changing the color may not be enough. I think it’s time to cut it.”
    “I’m afraid so,” Seregil said with a pained look. “I’ll ask the innkeeper for a pair of shears.”
    Thero shook his head. “I don’t know why I’m helping you. It’s pure madness.”
    “There’s no help for it. Aside from Ravensfell—where we would most assuredly be killed—where else are we going to find out how to manage Sebrahn?” asked Seregil. “I assumed you’d be the most interested in such knowledge.”
    “I assume you know where to look once you get there?”
    “Well, I know what it looks like,” Alec told him. “Yhakobin had all sorts of books lying around in a workshop.”
    Thero shook his head. “And you’re assuming that the one you want is still there, with its owner dead?”
    “If it isn’t, then we’ll find out who took it,” Seregil said with a shrug, though the more he tried to convince the wizard, the worse it all sounded, even to him.
    “Assuming we don’t all get killed,” Thero noted dryly.
    Seregil arched an eyebrow at that. “Who said anything about ‘we’? You’re not going.”
    “And who are you to tell me that?”
    Micum laughed at that.
    “It’s going to be dangerous enough for ’faie to go in with a magical creature like no other in tow,” Seregil explained as patiently as he could. “Your wizard blood and magic as strong as yours is? They would make you shine like a torchto any necromancer we encounter. Maybe alchemists and Plenimaran wizards, too. You’d be more liability than help.”
    “Liability?” Thero looked like he was about to launch into a lengthy retort, but he stopped instead and nodded. “That’s probably true. But I’ll take you as far as the beginning of the road and show you where it is.”
    “I didn’t mean to insult you about the rest of it, Thero,” Seregil told him. “I never doubt your skills, or your bravery.”
    Thero raised a dubious eyebrow. “Thank you.”
    “Now, about that slave mark?” said Micum.
    “Slave mark?”
    “The slavers branded us on the arm and leg. Every slave bears the marks,” Seregil explained.
    Alec took out a small bit of parchment and showed Thero the design he’d created. “Yhakobin’s mark was round, but I saw some square ones like this, too. This is the size.”
    “And I’m to be their new master.” Micum said, grinning at Seregil. “I’m rather looking forward to it, too.”
    Thero sat down by the room’s single lamp and held the design to the light. “Yes, I think I can do that in a way that won’t leave any traces of the spell. Who wants to go first?”
    Seregil pulled his right sleeve back. “Right here, on the underside of the forearm.”
    Thero pressed his hands together under his chin, chanting softly, and Seregil felt the air around them begin to crackle and warm. He clenched his teeth against the sudden pain as Thero closed his right hand over Seregil’s arm and gripped it tightly. The pain only lasted a moment, but it felt like a hot iron had been pressed to his skin again.
    When Thero took his hand away, the others leaned in to see the square outline of the slave mark just where the old one had been. It was slightly raised and had a faded look, pale against Seregil’s fair skin.
    “Will that do?”
    “It’s perfect!” Seregil smiled as he ran a thumb