Although Wil found that he enjoyed presentations and performances, speaking at length about himself was a nightmare. Pierce rarely asked specific questions, instead directing Wil to go back and elaborate on points he’d been vague about. It made the wizard feel like he’d done something wrong, and that was before he even entered Faerie.

Wil found himself at a loss when it came to recounting the past few months. Things that had seemed necessary at the time now came off as silly and panicked. Every time Wil explained the reasoning behind his actions, he felt more and more like a dumb kid.

Pierce did nothing to make it worse. The older man honestly sounded sympathetic, like a kindly old librarian, helping out a student. However, it never quite reached his eyes, which were sharp and penetrating. No matter how peaceful or unworried he sounded, Wil couldn’t shake the impression of being weighed, measured, and found wanting.

“So Mage Jefferson entered my mind,” said Wil, looking up at the clock. He’d been at it for over an hour now, going through everything. “I drove him out and followed him. That’s when I…When I destroyed his connection with his thralls.”

The entire time Wil spoke, Pierce’s pen moved along, taking notes. A few times they’d stopped so he could refill the ink, and then it was back to notes. In addition, a magical recording device logged his every word. That had bugged Wil greatly, noting each “um” and “uhhh” as he fought to find the right way to not sound guilty.

“And that’s when you killed Mage Jefferson,” Pierce said, peering over his spectacles at him.

Wil flinched. “That’s when his thralls killed him. On my orders. So yes, I suppose, that’s when I killed Mage Jefferson.”

Pierce said nothing else, merely logged his answer. When he was finished, he stroked his long beard thoughtfully. “What happened next?”

The wizard took a breath. It was almost over. “I led a coalition of humans and fae into Faerie, along with the completed trade treaty. I went up to the council chambers and interrupted their vote. I persuaded them to hear reason and vote for signing the peace treaty, to avoid war with Calipan.”

The entire time, Wil faced a problem that gnawed relentlessly at him. How much did he tell? He hadn’t told a single lie, but as the interview went on, he left more and more unnecessary details out. Did Cloverton really need to know how close it had been, and that Wil had strong-armed Grimnar into doing what he said?

“We signed, with a few stipulations that I have described in my initial messages to Cloverton. Wizards are allowed by invitation only, and the offending Faerie leaders have stepped down and will be jailed.” If being confined to one city for a hundred years counted as jailed. For Timothy Twist, it would.

Pierce jotted all of that down, humming tunelessly to himself. When he was done, he peered over his spectacles at him. “And then?”

Wil blew out a breath. “And then I spent the next week cleaning up Jefferson’s mess. I managed to free Captain Nesbitt from his mental prison, turned the toads back into human with the help of the fae, and kept Harper Valley from falling into chaos. And then,” he added quickly, “I found Jefferson’s journal, contacted Cloverton, and came here a few days later. I don’t think there’s anything else.”

Another few seconds of silence, save for the scratch of Pierces’ pen on paper. That quiet left Wil with a lot of room to tear himself apart. Each tick of the clock on the wall was like a stone gently placed on him. The first few weren’t bad, but after a full minute had passed with neither of them speaking, the pressure got to Wil.

“How much trouble do you think I’m in?” Wil asked. “As my legal counsel.”

“Mmm.” Pierce took his spectacles off and cleaned them with a soft looking cloth he produced from his shirt pocket. “If nothing else, I think I can keep you from being put in front of

a firing squad.”

“Oh,” said Wil. “That’s…That’s good, then.”

The older man chuckled. “I won’t lie to you, Master McKenzie. You’re not out of the fire by a long shot. But with a bit of preparation, we can ensure you come out with the bare minimum of burns. You may even only get singed.”

Wil swallowed hard. A million panicked thoughts trampled over him, screaming the entire time. Pierce noticed and said, not unkindly, “You might consider going out to the little waiting room outside and get yourself some water, and perhaps a small snack. Then we’ll continue.”

The wizard nodded, and numbly left the room. Was Pierce joking? Would they consider killing him for stopping Hugo? The idea of prison time or a severe reprimand or fine had crossed him, but now Wil worried more.

Throat suddenly dry, he went for a break nook just off of the office. He grabbed a mug he assumed was clean and, after briefly considering coffee, filled it with water and drained it. Two mugs later and Wil almost felt better. The panic couldn’t be held off entirely, just kept at bay.

Muffled voices came from the other side of the dim, claustrophobic office, trampling on his trembling nerves. Maybe one of them was worse off than him. The thought didn’t help.

Eventually Wil just leaned against the wall and focused on his breathing. The idea of playing with an illusion came to him, until he tried to feel for the magic around him and came up against a metaphysical brick wall between him and the land. The reminder his magic was restricted made him squirm. Darlene would laugh if she saw him fretting needlessly.

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Darlene. She was waiting for him to come back. Bram too, and his family, and everyone else counting on him. It wasn’t just his life at stake. Harper Valley itself would pay for what he’d done. It had been so easy to make the decision in the moment, when he felt like he had no good choices. And now?

“Master McKenzie?” Pierce’s head poked out of the door. “When you’re ready, come back in. I’ve got some questions for you.”

Wil nodded and set the mug in the sink before returning to the office. He closed the door and sat down. Pierce didn’t make him wait long.

“When you fended off the storm dragon and ripped the leyline, why didn’t you tell anyone?”

“I didn’t know it had happened until a couple months later,” said Wil. “I only found out when the gnome Declan and I spoke.”

“And why not after then?” Pierce stared him down, his face a neutral mask. “You had critical information on something that could change the country’s understanding of magic, and you sat on it. Why?”

Wil flinched. “I…At first, I needed to know more about what I did and how it would affect things. I went into Faerie because I thought I’d be able to learn more about leylines.”

“And did you?”

“Not as such,” he said, shrinking. “Things quickly got busy and the fae didn’t have more information on it than I did.”

Piece made a note and continued. “And when you came home again? Why not then? Or when Mage Jefferson arrived and took over the situation. He reported the damaged leyline, but you did not.”

The problem with trying to think of a good answer was there wasn’t one. Not one in particular. He couldn’t bring himself to lie, so Wil sighed and let it all come tumbling out.

“I wanted…needed to be sure of what I discovered before I bothered people here. Too many young wizards want to make a name for themselves and they come up with half-baked ideas and try to rediscover the wheel.” It was true enough, even if it wasn’t his main reason. “I didn’t want to come with a problem and no ideas for a solution.”

Pierce made a sound and continued writing. “Let’s move on for now. You then went off on an expedition into another world without informing us of what you were doing. Instead, your mayor filled us in and asked for help and instructions. What made you decide to handle it yourself?”

The nearby clock hanging from the wall ticked ominously as the seconds passed. The answer didn’t come easily. “My best friend was one of the people taken to Faerie. I wasn’t willing to wait to go save him. I won’t apologize for going to save Bram.”

“And I’m not asking you to.” Pierce set his pen down. “I need you to understand, I am on your side. You may get different counsel if you wish, but it is my job to make sure that I can sell a specific version of a story to the tribunal who will be picking you apart from every angle. They will be far less kind than I am, Master McKenzie.

“Right now, the story I have is that an overzealous young man, powerful but reckless, did things on his own because he thought he knew better than his government. Someone who might even be compromised and a liability.”

“How the hell would I be compromised?” Wil demanded, grateful for the anger. “Everything I’ve done has been in service to Harper Valley and Calipan by extension.”

“Even when your choices reflect a clear bias towards a foreign country?” Pierce sat back and stroked his beard. His eyes bore twin holes into Wil. “On multiple occasions you’ve made calls that favored our enemy.”

“But they’re not our enemy,” said Wil. “Not anymore. Not with the peace treaty now signed. With the conditions in our favor, my decisions averted war with favorable terms for Calipan. I’ll admit I was reckless, but I delivered, didn’t I?”

“That’s the problem, Master McKenzie. You did a bunch of foolish things and then succeeded at them. You are politically inconvenient.” Pierce chuckled. “It would be equally difficult to punish or reward you, and after all of this, Cloverton will need to do one of those things. So we have two possible stories.

“A reckless young man does something thought magically impossible, runs off to another world, and comes back helping out his country’s former enemies. This wizard kills the Cloverton representative who may or may not have gone rogue. At a certain point, it doesn’t matter. Mage Jefferson is still dead at his command. Regardless of the story, that much is true.

“In one version, the fae got to you after you ran headlong into their world. They either preyed upon your obvious inexperience and got you to turn, or else they used their magic to ensnare you.”

“Not likely,” said Wil. “I’m a natural mind mage, remember? It would take a lot to break past my defenses.”

Pierce smiled mirthlessly. “So, you possibly turn on your country and work against us, until Jefferson arrives and throws off your plans. So the fae attack, you defend them, kill Jefferson, and then come up with a story about how you had to do it.”

“You can ask anyone who knows me,” said Wil, “and they would laugh at that idea.”

“I’m sure they would,” said Pierce. “And they will likely be questioned in the future as the investigation proceeds. But that is one way you will be presented. The other is…mildly kinder.”

“And what’s that?” Wil asked.

“A well meaning boy with more power than sense bungled his way into and out of trouble. Moving from one disaster to the next and trying to plug up leaky holes in a ship. Leaks you caused, and then hid so that you wouldn’t be punished. One is the work of a traitor, the other of a fool. Fools can be forgiven. Traitors can’t.”

Wil’s blood ran cold. “So when you say you can keep me from the firing squad…”

Pierce sighed. “No, I wasn’t joking about that. But I believe I can sell this as the blunders of a country kid who got in over his head and tried to hide things while he fixed it. This will not be fun or comfortable, I’m afraid, but I will not have a blemish on my record. And with that, you are free to go. I have what I need to prepare you for the hearing.”

“Thank you,” said Wil, though it was hard to put any feeling behind it. “I appreciate any help you can give me. For what it’s worth, I am just a dumb kid who blundered from problem to problem. I was just doing my best.”

The investigator stood, and Wil did the same. He offered the wizard his hand. “For what it’s worth, I believe you, and my notes will reflect that. Do as I tell you, and you just may get to go home.”