The wizard was sitting up against a post, all white and black in the light. His head turned slightly; Hywel held very still. The face was a skull's, with tiny glints in the eye- sockets.

Hywel hung the lantern from a peg and opened the shutter; the wizard winced and turned his face away.

It was all he could turn. A chain went through his collar, twice around the post and his upper body, holding him upright. The chains from his ankles were fixed to two old cart wheels. Hywel had seen Sion Mawr the smith going home, and could not have missed the murder-black look Sion gave him; now he understood it.

"It was you after all," the chained man said, and Hywel nearly dropped the food. "Is that for me?"

Hywel took a step. The voice in his head was gone, but he still felt somehow drawn to the wizard. He stopped. "The soldiers say you can't work magic, in those chains."

"But you know better, don't you?" His English had only a little foreign sound. "Well, they're mostly right. I can't do much, and I truly can't escape. Come here, boy." He moved his hands. Hywel turned away, not to see the sign.

"At least put my supper in reach. Then you may go. Please."

Hywel moved closer, looked again at the wizard. The cloak was spread out beneath the man; it was lined with glossy black—more silk. Beneath the cloak he wore a dark green gown of heavy brocade, torn at every seam, showing the white silk shirt. Gown and shirt were embroidered all over with interlocking lines in gold and silver thread, with brighter colors worked between. The patterns drew Hywel's eye despite himself.

He set the plate down in the straw, uncovered it. The man's eyes widened, becoming very liquid, and he ran his tongue over very white teeth specked with dirt. He reached out, one-handed. Hywel saw that his wrist chains were linked behind his back. The wizard set the plate in his lap, and his delicate fingers hovered over it, talonlike, straining; there was not enough chain for his two hands to touch.

Hywel thought of offering to feed him, but could not say it.

The hands ceased to strain then. The wizard groped for and reached the napkin, shook it out, and arranged it as best he could over his shiny, filthy shirt. Then the thin fingers picked up a single kernel of corn and raised it to the swollen mouth. He chewed it very slowly.

Trying not to watch the wizard's hands or eyes, Hywel uncapped the pot of ale. He took a twist of greasy paper from his belt pouch, opened it, and slipped the white butter within into the blood-warm ale. He stirred the pot with a clean straw and pushed it as close to the man as he dared. The wizard waited for Hywel to draw back, then picked up the ale and took a small sip.