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failures?”
    “Why — no, I mean that —”
    “The Conspiracy’s just a stupid myth,” Dark muttered.
    Quirl whirled on the boy. “A myth you are a part of!”
    “Me? A lad?” Dark cackled. “If there were such an organization, do you think they’d allow a boy to be a member?”
    “Do you actually know something of this Conspiracy?” Seagryn asked eagerly. “I’ve always wondered, but it’s not a topic for polite conversation in Lamath.”
    Quirl mod Kit’s expression mocked Seagryn’s parochial culture, but he jumped at the invitation to share his collected lore. For, like many who hated the Conspiracy with a passion, he also loved nothing better than to whisper about it long into the night. He told of a treasonous alliance between leaders of every land-warriors and shapers, merchants and priests. Seagryn scoffed at the idea of Lamathian participation, but Quirl swore it was true, even though he admitted he could name no names. Much of it sounded ridiculous, but the new wizard listened in rapt attention, while Dark interjected annoying jests and generally made a nuisance of himself.
    “But why?” Seagryn kept asking. “What’s their purpose in these secret rituals?”
    “The purpose of the powerful in every age!” Quirl shouted, his eyes ablaze. “To subjugate the poor! To keep us under their heel! To rob us of our land and gold and thus grow ever more wealthy themselves! To steal our freedom!”
    The sun set and the tent’s interior grew dark, but Quirl had still more to tell. When he finally finished his tale they could barely make out one another’s faces.
    “Well,” Quirl rumbled, his throat grown raspy from so much talking, “there will be more time to discuss this tomorrow. It’s night. Rest here, the two of you. I’ll find a bed elsewhere.” He ducked out of the tent, then put his head back inside to say, “I hope you sleep soundly.” Then he was gone.
    “He means that, too,” Dark muttered, “and we know why.”
    “I find Quirl quite personable,” Seagryn argued, “and his story fascinating. You really believe they would attack us after such warm conversation?”
    “I don’t believe, Seagryn. I know. They’ll wait until the middle of the night when they’re certain we’re both asleep. But you won’t be, and you’ll turn into a person-consuming monster and chase them screaming from the camp.”
    He found the boy’s authoritative tone highly irritating. “Suppose things do happen just so? How will I know that your suggestion didn’t put my reactions into my mind?”
    “Self-fulfilling prophecy,” Dark muttered sourly. “Why can’t anyone ever ask me a new question?”
    “What if it does?” Seagryn demanded.
    “Go to sleep. I intend to.” Dark snuggled into his pile of pillows.
    “You can sleep when you fear someone is about to take your life?”
    “That’s just it, Seagryn, I don’t fear. The reason I’m so sleepy now is because I didn’t sleep at all last night, knowing today I’d get a beating.” The boy turned his face to the tent wall.
    “And you’re not afraid of a death threat?” Seagryn asked, incredulous.
    “Of course not. It’s a threat, not a thing that will be.” Dark’s voice already sounded groggy.
    “Well, I can assure you that I won’t sleep since you’ve told me this,” Seagryn grumbled, and the boy gave a low, sleepy cackle.
    “I know.” Dark smiled. “That’s why I can ...” Moments later the disgruntled Seagryn heard the regular breathing of a deep sleep. He wished he could feel so drowsy ...
    It happened exactly as predicted. Seagryn suddenly came awake, gripped by an uncontrollable shaking. Then a sword slashed through the fish-satin tent wall, right above his head. He turned tugolith in an instant, exploding the tent around him, and both the sword and the one who wielded it bounced harmlessly off his thick scales. Seagryn trampled that horrified warrior, then roared with tugolith wrath and charged down the line of