Chapter 5: The Hall Wants Him

The arena went silent, then roared.

Nobody in Saltmarch had seen the Sea Emperor in three hundred years.

The old songs called him Poseidon, and the old songs said he had drowned.

Now he stood on a wet platform in a fisherman's borrowed shirt, holding a mage's hand.

"This changes everything," the Archmage said.

He had recovered his voice, and he used it.

"A being of this rank cannot be held by a private mage."

"It belongs to the Crown, and the Hall will keep it for the Crown."

"The contract will be transferred today."

Ilsa felt Oren go still beside her.

"No," she said.

The Archmage smiled.

"Mage Cronstedt, you are twenty-two."

"You have a gift, and the Hall thanks you for finding him."

"You will be paid generously."

"I don't want to be paid."

"Then you will be thanked," he said.

Guards in grey surrounded the platform in a slow ring.

Each one wore a ward-chain of iron and silver around his wrist.

Ilsa glanced at Oren, and his jaw was tight.

She could feel the chains pressing on the bond.

"I chose him," she said, loud enough for the stands.

"He was in your reject cage."

"You gave me a whale this morning and called it your finest beast."

"Now you want the snake you threw away."

A few of the dockers on the upper steps began to hoot.

"Let her keep him!" a woman shouted.

"The Hall can find its own snake!"

"Silence," the Archmage snapped.

"My daughter!"

A voice rang across the stone, shaking and warm.

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