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altogether.
    It was the silhouette of a man traced against the night in a faint silvery light. He could see right through him. Alexander was so startled that he stumbled back against the turret wall, lost his balance, and started to topple over. The silhouette lunged forward and the silver lines that defined him became brighter. He grabbed Alexander by the shirt and pulled him back from the brink of a four-story fall, then abruptly disappeared. Alexander felt the air around him go colder still. He could suddenly see his breath as he sat on the floor with his back to the turret wall trying to make sense of the experience.
    Abigail came up the stairs a few moments later. Seeing Alexander sitting on the ground, she quickly looked for a threat. When she didn’t see one, she walked to Alexander and offered him her empty hand. She held a heavy, fur-lined, leather cloak in the other.
    He took her hand and stood. He wasn’t sure what to make of the ghostlike man. He didn’t want to add more stress to the family, so he decided to keep the encounter to himself for the moment. He took the cloak from his sister and threw it over his shoulders.
    “Mom and Dad are taking us to Glen Morillian in the morning. You need to pack your things,” Abigail said in a small voice.
    Alexander was suddenly struck by the pain and fear in her voice. He put his arm around her. They stood silently for a moment, taking comfort in each other.
    They heard Lucky huffing and puffing as he came up the stairs behind them. “Ah … there you are … I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” Lucky stopped to catch his breath when he reached the top of the stairs. Lucky was slightly rotund, not terribly overweight but certainly not fit and trim. He loved his food far too much and he spent his days in his workshop whenever possible.
    He looked at the two of them as if carefully searching for the right words. With a resolute nod, he found his voice. “Alexander, your life will be more difficult now. You have an obligation that cannot be ignored.”
    He looked to Alexander’s sister. “Abigail, you must stand by your brother, now more than ever.”
    He stopped as a tear slipped from his eye. “I miss him, too,” he said, hugging them both. He stepped back. “Both of you go pack and then get some sleep. You’ll need it. We’ll be off at dawn.” He turned and made his way down the stairs.
    Alexander decided to ignore everything until after he’d gotten some sleep. Maybe it would all be less insane in the morning. He followed his sister down the tower stairs and said goodnight as they each went to their rooms.
    He fell into his bed and managed to get his boots off before rolling over and falling asleep still fully dressed. His dreams were fitful. Everything that had happened collided into an improbable collage of events, distorted and filled with dread. At one point he woke with a start at the clear and vivid image of an arrow driving through his brother’s chest.
    He sat up gasping. The lamp had burned out and the room was dark. Alexander sat on the edge of his bed, breathing deeply in an effort to slow his racing heart. He’d just calmed himself when the silvery outline of a man abruptly materialized not three steps in front of him.
    He sat bolt upright, staring at the apparition. It wavered slightly and the temperature of the room suddenly fell by ten degrees as the ghost came into clear and sharp focus.
    Alexander was nearly paralyzed with fear. Surely Phane couldn’t have sent another assassin so quickly. Panicked thoughts flooded through his mind. Of course, Phane would know where he was; Phane was an arch mage and Alexander was the one marked to kill him.
    Then the apparition spoke. “I am the ghost of Nicolai Atherton. I will not harm you, Alexander.” He faded almost totally out of sight, then game back just as suddenly. The temperature in the room fell noticeably again.
    “You are in great danger.” His image sputtered and crackled, flaring