Aidan awoke with the sun shining in on him through the window. His internal sun sense told him it was almost noon. He sat up with a yawn, feeling refreshed. He could hear Thomas puttering in the kitchen, and smell something cooking. He wrinkled his nose at the scent. He knew Thomas was an excellent cook, but it didn’t smell at all appetizing.

He wandered out into the front room, still barefoot. Thomas poked his head out of the kitchen and said, “Good morning!” cheerfully. “I’d offer you lunch, but I don’t think I have anything to your taste.”

Aidan grinned. “Probably not. Don’t worry about it, I’ll be fine for another day or two.”

“Do you miss ordinary food?” asked Thomas, curious. “Feel free to tell me to jump in a lake if that’s too personal a question.”

Aidan shrugged. “I don’t mind talking about it. Every now and then I miss sitting down to dinner with a friend and having a good conversation over the meal, but I don’t really miss to food itself. Frankly, I’m sure whatever you’re cooking is delicious, but to me it smells horrible.”

“I’m having a late breakfast, eggs and sausage. I slept in after being up so late last night.” He looked at his friend and said, “If you don’t mind another question, do you breathe at all? I looked in on you a bit earlier and you were so still I wondered how I would know if you’d died in your sleep.”

“I only breathe when I need to talk,” he said. Then he added with a grin, “Let me tell you that weirded my wife out at first. She kept waking me up just to make sure I was alive.”

Thomas grinned. “I’d wager she would find that strange.”

“Speaking of breathing,” said Aidan, “do I smell something burning?”

“My breakfast!” Thomas hurried into the kitchen. He emerged a moment later saying, “The eggs are a complete loss, I’ll have to cook up another pair, but I saved the sausages!”

Aidan yawned. He always felt groggy during daylight, even if he’d had plenty of rest. “Well, don’t let me keep you from enjoying them,” he said. He sprawled across the couch while Thomas went back into the tiny kitchen and finished cooking another pair of eggs.

The old aerian returned to the front room with a loaded plate. He set it down on a low table by his chair. As he ate he gestured with his fork and said, “You know I’ve been thinking. Glad as I am to see you lad, that letter smells mighty fishy. Somebody wanted you here, and it wasn’t me. Nothing has happened as yet, but were I you I’d keep my eyes open for trouble. Do you know anybody that might have it in for you?”

Aidan pondered. Then he shook his head. “Lord Drago is always after the Clan, but this isn’t his style at all. He wouldn’t waste an elaborate plot on me; he’d be going after Brianna, or one of the other active members. Nobody else comes to mind right off though.”

“Well, whoever it is, they’re patient. They haven’t made a move yet. How long are you going to stay?”

“I’d like to stay longer, but I don’t want to be away from my family. I’ll probably leave the day after tomorrow.”

“You’ll have to visit again and bring your family along. I’d like to meet this wife of yours, and see your kids.”

“Maybe I will. You’re the closest thing to a grandfather they have.” He looked at his friend and smiled, adding, “You’re the closest thing to a father I have too, you know.”

Thomas looked up at him with a touch of surprise. He smiled. “Ah lad, I couldn’t ask for better thanks than that. I’ve always thought of you as a son.” He blinked, and Aidan saw moisture gather in his eyes. “Here now, you keep saying things like that and you’ll have me salting my eggs with tears,” added Thomas.

Aidan just laughed.

He stayed two more days with his old friend, but at last it was time to go. They said somewhat teary farewells, and Aidan promised to come visit again as soon as he could.

“And if there’s ever anything I can do for you,” he added, “anything at all, don’t hesitate to let me know. You can get in touch with me by mailing the Dragon Queen’s tower, or by sending a letter to Coppertop.”

Then Aidan waved one last goodbye and took to the sky. It was time to go home. He looked down on his friend’s figure, growing tiny below as he gained altitude. His mind went back again to the last time he saw that diminishing view. Then he was on the run, fearing for his life. Now he was going home to his family, but now as then he hoped that he would be able to return.

The boy hangs upside down from the roof so he can peer into the window. Something interesting is going on in there, and he wants to get a look at whatever it is. He isn’t really a boy anymore, not long ago his eighteenth birthday passed, uncelebrated, but he still looks far younger than his age, and he hasn’t grown any taller. He has, however, been eating regularly, and his body, though still slender, no longer has the look of starvation. His clothes are ragged, but they are clean as is his person. His eyes are bright with curiosity as he looks at the upside down scene inside the room.

An aerian man stands in the center of a cluttered workroom. His dress marks him as a mage, though even if he were not wearing mage’s robes, the glowing power that surrounds him would still identify him as a magic user. The young man watches in fascination. He had been around magic for almost three years now, but it still amazes him.

He wonders if there is some magical ward or protection on this house, but nothing happened when he landed on the roof, so he doesn’t worry too much. Even in a city where most of the population flies, it is amazing how many people don’t ever think to guard their rooftops. Or perhaps this mage did and is simply too absorbed in his spell-casting to notice any magical alarms. His face has an expression of intense concentration as he manipulates the power that swirls visibly around him.

Too soon for the young man’s liking the show is over. The glow of magic fades and the robed aerian leaves the room, moving with the slow, heavy movements of complete exhaustion. The young man sticks around for a while, still curious. He sees something lying on the table the mage has been working over. It is a moment’s work to get the window open and cautiously enter. He is wary, knowing alarms may have sounded when he entered, but when nothing happens he creeps slowly across the room. He reaches the table and looks at the object on it. It is a torc, a collar of back iron set with a large red stone. His fingers brush it and he feels a tingle of magic. He picks it up, feeling the metal warm in his hands.

A large mirror stands against one wall, and as the young man sees his reflection in it, he is seized by a sudden impulse. He puts the collar around his neck, hearing the catch close with a soft click. He tilts his head, liking the look of it in his reflection. A moment later he is out the window again, and the table lies empty behind him.

He is still in the air in his way back to the old man’s house where he now lives, when something emerges out of the air in front of him, literally out of nowhere. He gives a started yelp and backwings to avoid running into the thing. It is some kind of creature, vaguely humanoid and ugly as sin, and it hangs in the air effortlessly without benefit of wings. The thing speaks. “You have something I want boy, give it to me.”

The young man bristles. “Make me!” he says, guessing the thing is talking about his recently acquired torc. The thing snarls, revealing ugly uneven teeth, and narrows its glowing red eyes. It raises its mismatched hands and power glows around them.

“I’ll squash you like a bug,” says the thing, and it pushes its hands forward in a throwing gesture. The young man can see the power rushing at him, and he tries to dodge, but to his surprise the blast is sucked into the stone in the torc, then thrown back out of it at the thing. The creature howls in pain and vanishes again, leaving a threat in the air. “I’ll be back, and the next time I won’t be so easy on you.”

The young man hovers in the air for a moment, trying to figure out what just happened. He wonders if he should get rid of the collar, but when he goes to take it off, he can’t find the catch. He panics for a moment. He’s stuck with the thing, and who knows what that creature will do when it gets back. He calms himself with a reminder that panic will only make him make stupid mistakes. He continues on his way home, thinking hard all the while. The torc is magical, that much he knows, but what exactly is it? Part of its power is obviously protective; it kept that thing from killing him with its magic. What else might it do?

He is at the door with his hand on the latch when a hand falls on his shoulder. He jumps and turns around to find an inhumanly handsome man standing there in the darkness. The young man looks at this intruder with suspicion. “What do you want?”

“I want something you have, boy, something that isn’t yours. Give it to me and there will be no trouble.” The young man looks closer at him, and notices that the other man’s eyes are red. Is he that thing, or another like it in disguise?

The young man is stubborn, and he shakes his head. “Why should I?” he says.

The man smiles genially and says, “Because you cannot use it, and I can. And because if you do not, things will be very unpleasant for you. Do you know what it is you have stolen?” When the young man doesn’t reply, the handsome, human-looking man continues. “I will tell you something of what that is. It is a talisman that protects the wearer from certain kinds of harm, specifically from harm by demons. The problem is that the demons want it very badly. So as long as you wear it you will be hounded by demonic forces. I would wager you’ve been bothered by at least one demon already. You will never be free of them so long as you wear that bauble. Give it to me, I can take proper care of it, and you will have no more worries.” He smiles again.

The young man’s suspicion hasn’t gone away. He gives the handsome man a glare and says, “I don’t think so. I think you’re a demon. And that means you can’t hurt me.”

The man’s genial expression vanishes. “Not directly, but there are still ways. Give it to me or I will make your life most unpleasant.”

“No.”

“Very well.” The man’s eyes begin to glow and he snaps his fingers. Two ugly things, like the first but not the same, appear on either side of the aerian thief and reach for him. With reflexes honed by a hard life on the street the young man escapes the only way he can, straight up. His leap gets him just enough height to get his wings open and working, and soon he is gaining altitude fast. He looks down at the little house growing ever smaller below him and hopes he’ll survive to see it again.

He sees the demons below suddenly vanish, and then he nearly slams into the too-handsome man who appears out of thin air right in front of him. His demonic henchmen have come along too, and they seize the young aerian’s arms before he has time to react. “You’ll live to wish you’d given me the torc, boy,” says the man, and then with another snap of his fingers all four of them vanish.