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“I do not!” Mira said hotly. “It is a ghost leader’s lie, to betray us into the hands of your phantoms!”

“I would do no such thing,” Blaize protested, “and if you do not wish to make a ghost of yourself, they would not harm you in any case.”

“Oh, so all the ghosts are harmless, are they?”

“Not all,” Blaize admitted, “especially those who have become shadows of wicked persons. The wild ghosts, though, are mostly peaceful things who avoid humans unless they feel us call.”

“Peaceful? Aye, the peace of the grave!”

“There is peace in the grave indeed,” Blaize said gravely, “and all human souls pass to the Afterlife, but many leave behind their reflections as they go, shadows impressed on wild ghosts—prey more often than hunters.”

“Pray indeed, to save us from them!”

“I have, and have saved nine ghosts already from enslavement to a human’s will.”

“Saved the people’s spirits from being swallowed by the ghosts, you mean!”

“Some,” Blaize admitted, “those who had no wish to hold on to this world. The others I thwarted in their desire to stay here.”

“To stay! Who would wish to stay if they could only look upon the world from a ghost’s eyes, could only look upon food and love and children but never taste or feel or touch? If this is your mercy, save me from it—and from any who argue for the goodness of ghosts!” Mira spun on her heel and stalked away, past Alea and Gar, back the way they had come.

“You had best make sure she comes safe to the campsite,” Gar said. “In the mood she’s in, she could wander quite far from it and lose herself in the wood.”

“I wouldn’t know the way myself if I hadn’t kicked rocks as we went.” Alea picked up a fallen branch. “I’ll need some light other than an obliging ghost, I mean. I don’t think Mira would take well to such company right now.”

“Indeed she would not.” Gar stared at the dead wood for a few seconds. It burst into flame.

“You are a fire-caster!” Blaize cried, shrinking back.

“If I have to be,” Gar said, frowning. “Go quickly, Alea. She’ll lose herself in another minute.”

“Hasn’t she already?” But Alea didn’t stay to explain what she meant.

Gar turned toward Blaize, who cowered against a trunk, hands up to ward as his lips moved soundlessly. Ghosts seemed to rise from the very ground, drifted in from the trees, most shapeless and moaning, one or two in jerkins and hose, bows in their hands and quivers of arrows on their backs.

“Who are you who imperils our wood?” one of them demanded.

“I am Gar Pike, and I cry the sanctuary of the greenwood,” Gar said, “even as you did in life, or I miss my guess.”

“We were outlaws, aye, and ever ready to protect poor folk such as ourselves.” The other human form gave Gar a nasty grin. “If any magic-lord was foolish enough to come within our forest, we dealt with him as best we could, and quickly, too.”

“An arrow through the breast,” Gar interpreted, “while another of you warned all wild ghosts away. Or did you find a way to slay a tyrant’s ghost?”

“No need—the shadows of those who had guarded the woodland before us held the wild ones back.” The first outlaw frowned. “What manner of man are you, who speaks with ghosts?”

“Why, he is a magician, Ranulf!” the other outlaw said. “Who else could talk to us without fear?”

“A magician from far away, yes,” Gar said, “and a lord—but not of any estate, and surely I hold no lands here.”

“You seek them, then.” Ranulf drifted closer, his manner threatening.

“I seek to free peasants from cruel lords, yes,” Gar said, “but I have no wish to stay in one place long enough to be lord of a manor.”

The second outlaw frowned. “I hear his heart’s desire, Conn, and though it seeks what it does not know, it seeks not power.”

“He is sincere,” Ranulf agreed. He turned to Blaize. “Why did you call us, man? This big fellow means you no harm, means only to aid you.”

“He—he is a fire-caster!” Blaize stared at Gar. “And a ghost leader, too—but that cannot be! No fire-caster has ever been a ghost leader, save the vile Roketh!”

“I am both, and have many other magical gifts besides,” Gar told him. “Perhaps you have the talent to learn some of them.”

“Perhaps.” Blaize wavered visibly. “That is a bribe, is it not? Bait for a trap?”

“The promise of knowledge has lured better men than either of us,” Gar told him, “but I do not use it so—the greed for learning is your own. I didn’t put it there. And I don’t promise to teach you, for I don’t know whether you have the talent for it. But I will protect you from the magician who pursues you, aye, protect you as well as I can.”

“What good will that do?” Blaize’s shoulders sagged. “No magician will accept an apprentice whose magician has died—they will think I am no use if I could not help defend my master. I cannot become a serf again, because no lord will trust me not to be a spy, and my old lord would slay me out of hand as a traitor. I may as well lie down upon the ground and die!”

“If you really believed that, you wouldn’t have asked a ghost to find help for you.” Gar thumped the young man on the back. “Have hope! There is life here yet, and you’re young. As long as you stay alive, you may stumble across a new chance—and you have, for if you have as much talent as you say and need a teacher, you’ve found one.”

“Why?” Blaize stared at Gar, unable to believe in the rescue of his hopes. “Why should you care about me?”

“Because I need all the friends I can gather,” Gar told him, “especially if I intend to free any of the serfs of this land. I may have magic, but I’m also an outlander who needs someone who knows this country.”

Now, Blaize could have protested that Gar seemed far more worldly than himself, but the lure of learning was too strong for him. He stepped away from the tree trunk, saying, “Knowledge for knowledge? Magic for local guidance?”

“Knowledge, yes,” Gar said. “As to magic, you’ll have to see to that yourself. Can you use the knowledge I give you, or will it simply be interesting for its own sake?”

“I shall give you any help I can,” Blaize promised.

“A bargain, then.” Gar clasped his hand, then turned away. “We must go quickly, now. The ladies have a long head start.” Blaize fell in beside him, not even noticing that the tall man shortened his strides to match Blaize’s. He was too much absorbed in his misery; the delight at the thought of new knowledge had faded, submerged under a vision of green eyes and auburn hair. Why had Mira’s interest turned to hatred at the mere mention that he was a magician’s apprentice? Why was she so quick to think him evil? How could he win her regard again? Behind them, the wild ghosts faded back into forest and brush, sensing they were no longer needed, but Ranulf nudged Conn in his mistlike ribs and nodded toward the besotted and dejected young man. Conn answered with a wink and a grin. Together, the two outlaw ghosts drifted along behind the living men.

Conn and Ranulf faded from sight when Gar and Blaize came to the campsite, though. If Blaize had paid attention, he would have known they were there simply by the feel of their presence but he had room for nothing in his mind but the sight of Mira, her graceful movements and delicate beauty.

Gar and Alea could have sensed the ghosts, too, if they’d known what the feeling meant. As it was, they did the best they could to soothe the two young people with tea, then stew, then saw them to sleep on beds of pine boughs. When they were sure the two slept, Alea looked up across the fire at Gar and said, “A runaway serf girl escaping her lord’s command to warm his bed, and a masterless man who is probably the only one of his teacher’s retinue left alive. How are we supposed to keep them safe?”