It was late and the tavern’s lights were all out, indicating that it was closed, when Aelfredd approached looking somewhat furtive. Glancing both ways as he rapped a planned sequence on the tavern’s side door, Aelfredd was unsurprised when the door opened quickly and he darted inside.

  Once inside he pulled back the cowl of his cloak and embraced his brother Markus.

  “Do you have the package from the foreigner?” he asked with a strained urgency.

  “In good time, Aelfredd,” his uncle said as he rose from a shadowed table in the corner of the small ale room and quickly crossed the room to take his turn embracing Aelfredd. “First we must decide what to do about Turgeon tomorrow.”

  “Aye, Aelfredd, recall that it is for him we do what we do. He must be kept safe through the coming storm. Uncle Dreagric and I have been discussing the matter while we waited.”

  With his long mane and dark beard Markus played into the stereotype of an ill kempt and uneducated barkeep. The man beneath that guise was far more wise and dangerous than his patrons assumed. And he never missed an opportunity to admonish his younger brother.

  “I wasn’t that late. But of course you are right, brother. What do you suggest?”

  “He should go with you tomorrow.”

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  “With me?!” Aelfredd was shocked. Surely he had misheard, there must be a safer place for young Turgeon than with him. His sacrifice would help them accomplish their goals, he knew, but for Turgeon to bear witness…

  “I know what you are thinking, Aelfredd, but that is exactly why he must go with you. We both know our brother's temperament. He must see you fall with his own eyes.”

  Aelfredd, seeing the wisdom in his brother’s words, made an attempt to lighten the mood as he often did in this company, “Come now brother, surely you have more faith in my skill with a blade than that, I do stand a chance of winning the coming contest.”

  Dreagric rewarded him with a light chuckle and a pat on the back, “I have trained you long and well nephew, but we both know you don’t stand a chance against the King’s Own Swordmaster. Just ensure he learns nothing of what we are about to speak. He must have no suspicions.”

  “I understand, uncle. Turgeon shall be pure of our plot. It’s settled – now what of the package?”

  “What you seek is not the magic you know and have dabbled with, the province of hedge witches and fortune tellers, used for parlor tricks and simple prestidigitation. This is the true magic, the sort that has been banned in our kingdom for generations. There are dangers in this you – we – do not understand, despite the work we have done to prepare.”

  “We’ve discussed this before Uncle, these are all risks we are willing to take. We do what must be done. Despite years of searching, we have failed to find another way and we do not have time to continue our search. His Seekers draw close and the boy is in danger. The time to act is now.”

  “On that we are agreed. Here is the package. Go in Justice nephew.”

  “In Justice,” the brothers muttered in response, embraced and separated as Aelfredd replaced the cowl of his cloak and returned into the chill night.