The young Lord Adept put a reassuring hand on Brellen’s shoulder.  “I understand.  You and your comrades were very brave, but it is obvious that I am needed.  Tomorrow we will deal with this problem, and deal with it quickly.”

Wulfston ordered one of his guards to take Brellen to the kitchen for a meal, then to find a place for the shepherd to sleep.  Jareth waited until he and Wulfston were alone before stating, “Lord Wulfston, there’s no such thing as a werewolf.”

“Oh?”  the black man gave him a mildly surprised look.  “You’re very sure of that?”

“Very sure.  Wolves are not uncommon in the hills, my lord, as you well know.  But his story of a man who can change into one — surely, you don’t believe such a tale.  There must be some other explanation for whatever happened.”

“I — prefer to hold my opinion until we’ve visited the area,” Wulfston said.  “As the new Lord of the Land, it’s my duty to see to the safety of my people.  Besides, I have yet to see this quarry, and a lot of building stones for Castle Blackwolf will soon start coming from there.  We’ll start out early tomorrow morning — just you, me and Brellen.”

“No guards, Lord Wulfston?”  Jareth tried to hold his astonishment in check.  “Are you sure that is wise?  You don’t have — that is, after such a tyrant as Drakonius, many of the people are very wary of their new lord.  There are most certainly hill bandits somewhere in that area.  Some might be ambitious enough to try to assassinate you, then try to plunder part of the territory before your allies could arrive.”

The Lord Adept smiled.  “My powers can deal with any problem we might face, Jareth.  See you in the morning.”

“As you wish, my lord. . .”

*      *      *      *      *

“Black wolf. . . black cub.”  The murmured words came to Jareth’s lips unbidden as he lay down on his pallet.

But there was truth in them.  This new Lord of the Land was less than half Drakonius’ age — and Jareth’s — and seemed to have not even half as much common sense.

Like most people in these lands north of the Aventine Empire, Jareth did not believe in gods.  Most believed in the ways of nature, especially the Adepts, who claimed that nature determined how their powers were to be used.  But there were those among his merchant peers who believed more in luck than in nature.  “It waxes and wanes,” some said, “like the phases of the moon.”  Perhaps they’re right, he thought sleepily.  But apparently not with such regularity as the moon . . . His luck in business had waxed for many years, despite Drakonius’ harsh demands of tithes and tribute.  And luck had waxed in his personal life as well:  his beautiful and loving wife Sarla, his two fine sons, Maro and Zel.