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“Go back to the inn to do what?” Gus asked.

“To see how many they come back with. What their plans are. Get one of them alone and use the net to ask them questions.” Marchant sounded annoyed to have to spell it out.

“I can do that. Nena won’t like me staying there, she’s not so befuddled anymore, either. But she’s done too much now to say no.” Gus shuffled, she could hear his clothes rustling.

“I’d forgotten she was affected, too.” Marchant spoke softly. “I’m going to have to go check—.” He stopped himself short. “I’ll see you in three days. Same time. Whether the soldiers are back from Illoa or not, meet me here to pass on what you’ve learned.”

“Right’o.” Gus turned and walked away, whistling under his breath, as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

She didn’t hear any movement, as if Marchant were standing watching after him, either deep in thought or looking for any sign he was followed.

Finally she heard a sigh, the rustle of boots through leaves, and then silence.

She held.

Theo would have a good view of Marchant, that’s why he went ahead to hide. Theo would let her know when it was safe.

But he never called out.

She wished now that her ring could fit on her finger under her glove, but she’d had to take it off. It would be good to have warning if danger lurked.

She lay absolutely still, worry building in her, and then someone ran straight for her.

Theo wouldn’t do that, so she reached in her pocket and pulled out her glove, scrambled to her feet just in time to catch glimpses of a thin man with dark face coverings dodging through the thick bush to get to her.

She pulled out the net from inside the other glove as he burst into view.

He stopped, almost comical in the way he had to windmill his arms to keep his balance. His eyes were fixed on the net.

“That’s the glow I saw.” He flicked his gaze to her, then frowned. “Or you’re glowing, as well as the net.” He shook his head, as if unsure. “What’s that in your bag?”

“I’ll tell you all about it,” she said, flicking the net toward him, but he gave a sharp cry at the sight of it billowing out, and dove away.

She heard him scramble through the brush and then the sound of his footsteps running through dead leaves until they faded away.

She fought her way through branches and scratchy bushes to the path, then ran to the clearing.

“Theo?”

Had Marchant found him? Enspelled him before he spoke with Gus?

That made no sense, because he seemed to have believed Gus’s story.

Unless he thought Theo had followed the town guard who’d come to report to Marchant about their arrival last night. Gus had said he’d passed the man on his way to his own meeting.

But if Marchant had seen Theo, he’d know he was the same person he’d enspelled before. She shook her head. There were too many what-ifs.

She studied the open space, saw the bell was still on the log, glowing softly with its magic.

She stepped beyond it, found where Marchant must stand and watch the people coming to seek an audience with him, then turned slowly, looking for where Theo might have chosen to hide.

She walked carefully around the outside of the clearing, stepping around trees and bushes, keeping an ear out in caseMarchant came back with some kind of weapon—which he surely would.

She had weapons of her own, though. She had the net, the small handful of confusion dust she’d rescued from the box in the forest, and the paint set. Those weren’t to be discounted.

She wondered if he had actually seen magic in her, or whether it was the paint set, with its almost blinding glow, leaking out of her bag. Either way, he hadn’t been sure, and that was to her advantage.

She had never thought of herself as actually being magical. She could see it, not make it.