How many times had he hugged his father good-bye and watched him step through this very same door, only to have the door disappear from the sand as though it had never been there at all? Magic. That was magic.Timothy’s heart felt as though it might explode, and he held his breath until his chest hurt, just gazing around at his surroundings. Edgar had led the way, cawing loudly, excitedly, and Leander had followed next. Now the rook sat upon the shoulder of the red-maned sorcerer and watched expectantly as Timothy took several steps farther into his father’s house.“My father’s house,” he whispered, unconsciously putting voice to his thoughts.“Your house now,” Leander told him, a warm rumble in his voice and a twinkle of approval in his eye. “Welcome to the city of Arcanum, Timothy Cade. The city of your birth.”The boy froze. Ivar slipped silently past him, blending with the shadows so that he was barely visible, a chameleon, investigating the corridor ahead, sniffing the air.
