“Then you would either have a magic that was worth nothing to you, or the magic would not even enter you,” the shaman explained. “I have never tried it before.”

“Then how do you know he wouldn’t be hurt?” Peter countered, his faith in the own man’s ability quickly fading.

“This is not that sort of magic,” Mathoyl told him. “As I told you, there is nothing to fear.”

Bayani turned to give Peter a questioning look. Peter knew what he meant by that expression, the way he seemed to plead without even saying a word.

“Do it, if it means that much to you,” Peter told him. He sounded more aloof than he meant to.

He always meant to make sure that Bayani was safe, and in this world he was not sure what he should trust, which made it very easy for him to trust nothing and nobody. Still, Bayani had a way of knowing what he should do and what he shouldn’t. He knew when things were going to be trouble, and he had the good sense to avoid them. Peter, on the other hand, was always overly careful, even though it sometimes meant missing an opportunity.

Bayani gave him a grin and turned over to the shaman. “Let’s see what this magic you have is all about.”

“Excellent, excellent,” the shaman said. “To transfer the magic to you, I will need to touch you. Do you mind if I lay my hands on your chest?” Bayani said that he did not mind, the shaman went on. “You should lie down for this. It will work much easier that way.”

Bayani did as he asked and laid down on the rug. Peter put a cushion under his head, pretending that he was not a little bit jealous. He couldn’t help himself; it came with being protective of the boy he cared for. Still, he did not say anything, because he knew that this would mean something special to Bayani.

The shaman rubbed his hands together and began muttering some words in the Elvan language. As he went on chanting, his hands began to glow a dark, vibrant blue. Then a green edge formed around the blue, and after that a line that was a brighter electric blue, almost white, outlined the other two colors. Mathoyl Vathall went on chanting, the colored light growing around his hands, and then he slowly pulled his palms away from each other. The colors expanded, and began to run together in a sort of marbling. The colored light grew even more, building in brightness, collecting around the shaman. Peter could not pull his eyes away from it.