the middle. As he looked at her, he realized there was something familiar about her that called to him. “All right, ma’am,” he said. “I’ll try to watch out for her.”

“Of course you will, Ian,” Madam Dimbleby said with a confident smile as she sat back in her chair and picked up her teacup again. “Now go along to bed and think on her name. We shall want to know it tomorrow at breakfast.”

“Oh, but I already have it,” Ian said.

Madam Scargill scoffed. “This should be interesting,” she muttered.

“What name have you come up with, then?” Madam Dimbleby asked with a smile, ignoring her cousin.

“Theodosia,” Ian said matter-of-factly “Theo, for short, and for a last name …” He pondered for a moment before he said, “Fields, for where she was found before she was brought to us.”

Both Madam Dimbleby and Madam Scargill looked surprised as they sat blinking at him for a beat or two. Finally, Madam Dimbleby said, “It’s a perfect name, Ian. Perfect.”

Ian beamed at her, then gave his goodnights and trotted off to bed, eager to get some sleep before taking charge of his new baby sister in the morning.

SORCERER OF FIRE

An Empty Flat Near London,

Earlier That Evening

Magus the Black stood before a stone hearth, staring blankly into the glowing embers of a flame that heated the room to an uncomfortable degree. Flanking him were two massive beasts, keeping diligent watch, their red eyes darting about the room as drool dripped from their long, vicious fangs. Outside, there was a loud clap of thunder as a storm began to rage.

In the corner of the small flat, lying prone on a dirty cot, was the prisoner, who was now barely recognizable after suffering so through her resistance. She was quiet after her long battle, but this hardly pleased Magus the Black.

Tendrils of inky smoke curled and twisted about the sorcerer’s dark cloak like irritated cobras, reflecting his own frustrations. The flame in the hearth flickered and danced, casting an eerie glow over Magus’s hollow cheeks, sunken eyes, and blister-scarred skin. Thin lips pulled pensively over a double row of small, sharply pointed teeth, and two narrow streams of light gray smoke trailed out of his angular nose.

He had thought that the woman was stronger and would withstand the suffering. He’d been quite disappointed to find that she was weaker than she appeared. He growled low in his throat and the beasts eyed him nervously. He paid them no heed while his mind sifted through all that the woman had told him … and all that she hadn’t.

Suddenly, the beasts sniffed the air and growled like their master, their black greasy hackles rising as they both eyed the door. There was a knock and then the door to the flat opened. The beasts continued to growl and a quivering male voice said in his native German, “Master? You’ve sent for me?”

Magus turned and noted the slight flinch from the man in the doorway as their eyes met. The sorcerer’s lips curled slightly. He liked invoking fear. Before speaking, Magus held up his hands in a command to settle the beasts, and they ceased their growling at once and lay down on the stone hearth but continued to watch the man in the doorway intently.

“The woman has revealed that she left the babe in an open field somewhere near the village of Dover,” the sorcerer said, also speaking German, in a voice that was high-pitched and coarse like fine-grade sandpaper. “She believes a horseman she spied from the woods might have rescued the child. Take one of my pets, find the horseman, and bring the child to me—alive.”

The man in the doorway glanced nervously at the tortured figure on the bed. “Dover is a large village, master, and there would be many residents who might own horses. Can she tell you anything more about the location of the field or the horseman?”

Magus turned back to the hearth and did not answer for a long moment. Finally, he said, “She can tell us nothing more, Dieter. Ever.”

“I see,” said his servant quietly. After a pause he added, “I shall leave for the village immediately and look for the boy.”

Magus turned back to Dieter. “It is a girl child you search for, Van Schuft.”

“A girl?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure …?” Dieter began, but then caught himself. “What I mean, master,” he said, quivering even more, “is that the prophecy states we should search for a boy child.”

Magus rounded on his servant, flames licking the