“Now that we can speak freely in person,” says Turing to me, “I’d like to confirm a few details of our arrangement.”

I nod. “Fair enough, though I thought that the terms were quite clear.”

Turing is quick to put me at ease. “I think they were too, Sorcerer. I’d just like to make sure we’re in agreement now so we don’t find out we’re not later.”

“Of course. Forgive me if I sounded rude.”

“Not at all.” His expression shifts, a previously unrevealed intensity suddenly appearing. “You have knowledge of magical techniques that, in the hands of my magicians, could very well help us end this war. The Elders are not prepared to have their own weapons turned against them.”

I nod. “Exactly. And I will teach your magicians as much as I can. However, before I can pass on Poxen’s teachings, I need to complete the task that my Mistress has set before me. And to help insure that. . .”

“You’ve asked for your payment in advance,” finishes Turing. “And you’ve requested something more practical than any sort of cash.”

“Exactly. That’s why I commissioned the clothes. Well-enchanted garments are something I am desperately short on, considering my position. Mostly because I have no head for enchantment and Maguerite is far too busy to do object-work for me, personally.”

Michael smiles and pulls a box from the bottom drawer of his desk. “Here you are, Sorcerer. They were tailored to the magical scans of your body you sent us. They should fit perfectly.”

I take the box and lift the lid almost reverently; what I find inside makes my breath catch momentarily.