“Now, ah…”

“For the ancient people, magic was easy. Mana ran through their body, uncorrupted, pure. And they did wonders we could hardly imagine…”

“But somehow, the most important tool they gave us is one they, well, barely thought about.”

“Spell-shapers are tools that allow us to cast using artificial Mana. The ancient people, well, they had Mana aplenty in their own bodies. To them, spell-shapers were only for practice and training. So they'd use them as apprentices, until they earned their own Stars and Constellations. To them these were toys, and Miss Lena, someone like you would've had one of your very own."

The idea clearly flattered her. They'd moved outside and perched themselves along a fence, watching Oriole sweat and bluster as he gave his demonstration.

Heidrich had appeared in the background, watching with his arms crossed. Something was off with the man. Grae’s senses were on high alert, the fur at the back of his neck prickling up with worry.

"When I move my hands like so…" His fingers twisted. "The casting begins. Now, within this device are three signs. Light, Anger, Control."

"Light and Anger come from Chaos. Control from Order. Only when the two forces combine is a spell born…"

"Light." His pointer and pinky fingers bent down over his thumb as it curled across his palm, the middle two fingers raised.

"Control." With both hands he formed a triangle.

A miniature sun was born. It was no bigger than his hand, and floated placidly in the air before him, a cream-colored ball of light. There was something pleasing about it: how perfectly a sphere it was and how it bobbed up and down in the wind, like a leaf on the water's surface.

"Anger and Control, I can't show you. It makes men and beasts go berserk with rage, and we certainly wouldn't want our friend to get angry, now would we?"

“But Anger, Light, and Control, together make…”

His hands moved through the signs. Grae stiffened in his seat, preparing for the blow, ready to fire a water bullet to counter as he had before.

But Oriole lifted his palm upwards towards open sky. From his hand came a searing beam of light, unfurling up into the air. It dissolved into plumes of red and blue flame as it reached its apex, the core so bright it hurt to look directly into, turning the gentle night into day for a moment.

When that moment passed, Grae could relax. Lena was clapping her hands together in delight, and he mimicked the motion, watching Oriole carefully.

That had been the moment.

If there had been a message slipped to Heidrich behind Sarcer’s back, that was the moment the plan would have sprung into action.

Or…

Or it was Lena. She was right by Grae’s side, in harms way. Even assuming Oriole had managed to quietly signal he was in danger…

Heidrich would still wait until she was safe and out of any danger before making his move.

Grae’s eyes twitched from one man to the other, trying to read secret signs, to tell if they were conspiring against him. Heidrich was unreadable, dark-eyed and stark. Oriole was just the opposite- he was such a mess of twitches and sweating uncertainty that Grae couldn’t tell if any of it actually meant anything.

Since arriving on this little farm, Grae had been passive as a stone. Waiting and watching.

Now that pressure was beginning to crack away at his calm demeanor. He itched to be free of this place, to be on the open road putting long miles between himself and Heidrich.

“Well…”

Oriole caught the ‘subtle’ sign of Grae’s glaring eyes.

“I’m afraid, Miss Lena, that’s all the magic I can show you today. I’m running a little dry on mana. But if you were to visit me in Tingate someday, I’d gladly show you all the many spell-shapers in my father’s collection.”

“I’d love that!” She chirped, eyes bright.

“So. Time you were going, then.” Heidrich’s voice closed over her enthusiasm like an iron grip, as his own weathered, muscular hand landed on Oriole’s shoulder. “Lot of ground to cover.”

It wasn’t a suggestion. Their welcome was at an end.

“Yes, of course.” Oriole mumbled.

Over the next few minutes, the kobolds tended to the horses and loaded the cart with baskets of fresh, rich foods: cheeses wrapped in cloth, jarred fruit preserves, sides of smoked and salted meat.

Heidrich watched them like a hawk.

The pricking unease at the back of Grae's neck grew constantly. He was dead certain now the man knew something. Grae trailed after the girl like a shadow, letting her presence be his shield. It wasn’t until it was time to step into the wagon’s dark cage that he finally had to part ways…

“Well, Mister Pig, you were a lovely guest…” She said, as he clambered aboard.

“Greh.” He answered.

And as the gnawing worry in his stomach dug its fangs in, the caged door swung shut.

Oriole cracked the reins. The wagon began to roll.

The little farm disappeared behind them, with no sudden turn to violence, no ambush. The moment passed, and Grae could finally let out a grunting sigh.

“Is everything alright?” Greenleaf asked.

“That man knew.” Grae replied. “I don’t know how, but I think he knew.”