HE LOOKED AT ARADIA SOURLY, WISHING THAT SHE WOULD AT LEAST NOT SAY THE SAME THING THAT VINGA SAID ALL THE TIME— “WORRIED HALF TO DEATH!”—WHEN SHE HAD TO WATCH BOTH HIM AND ARADIA.

ARADIA:  “WULFSTON, WHY DIDN’T YOU ANSWER ME WHEN I CALLED YOU?”

WULFSTON:  “BECAUSE MY NAME ISN’T ‘WULFSTON’!  MY NAME IS MARCUS!”

ARADIA:  “OH, DON’T BE SILLY”

NOW SHE WAS TRYING TO BE VINGA:  SAME STUCK-OUT LIP, SAME HANDS ON HIPS AND STAMPING FOOT.

ARADIA:  THAT WAS YOUR NAME IN THE AVENTINE EMPIRE, BUT YOU’RE NOT AN AVENTINE ANY MORE!  MY FATHER’S MADE YOU ONE OF US—

WULFSTON:  I’M NOT ONE OF YOU!

ARADIA:  YES, YOU ARE!  YOU BELONG HERE NOW!

WULFSTON:  NO!  I DON’T!  I-

“I DON’T BELONG ANYWHERE,” HE CHOKED, LOOKING AWAY.  HE COULD NOT TELL HER ABOUT THE DREAM LAST NIGHT, THE AWFUL MEMORY OF HOW HE HAD SHOWN OFF HIS ADEPT POWER TO LORD NERIUS IN FRONT OF HIS OWN FAMILY . . . AND THE STRANGERS — JUST PEOPLE WHO HAD COME TO PURCHASE POTTERY AT HIS PARENT’S STAND BY AN AVENTINE ROAD, BUT PEOPLE WHO SAW HIM YANK LORD NERIUS’ WOLF PENDANT OFF ITS CHAIN WITHOUT TOUCHING IT, AND YELLED, “HE’S AN ADEPT!  KILL HIM!  KILL HIM!”  AND THEN EVERYBODY HAD STARTED GRABBING AT HIM, SOME TO TRY TO KILL HIM . . . LORD NERIUS MUST HAVE USED HIS OWN ADEPT POWERS TO WIN BUT, YANKING MARCUS AWAY FROM ALL THOSE OTHER HANDS AND GETTING THEM AWAY FROM THERE ON HIS HORSE.