“Who are you?” the elderly woman asked.
    “Jara,” the boy answered.
    “I’ve never seen you here before. How did you learn spell-casting? I’ve never seen a spell-caster do a jump as high as that before.”
    “Uh…I was taught by my uncle.”
    “Whose your uncle?” This lady was getting nosy.
    “You wouldn’t know him,” said Jara. Translation: Stop asking so many questions. The old woman did not get the hint, but then again, things might go bad if she did.
    “Well that’s why I’m asking.” The woman glared at Jara.
    “His name’s Terrik. Lives in eastern Sauderia.”
    “You’re awfully dark to be from Sauderia, Jara,” remarked the woman. Jara winced at the comment. Although he had applied the lotion given to him from Kayla, he was still noticeably darker than the normal Sauderian.
    “My ancestors were both Japafian and Sauderian.” Best explanation possible, he thought.
    “Mm. Are you more Japafian or Sauderian?”
    “Sauderian.” Of course. Why would a Japafian be wandering in Sauderia during the war?
    The woman gave a sigh of contentment. “Well, since you are part Japafian, maybe you could give King Morthan some ‘ideas,’ if you know what I mean.”
    “I don’t know what you mean.”
    “Well think!” she thundered. “You know about Japafia. What are its weaknesses? Any secret tunnels into the city?”
    Jara’s heart thumped rapidly. “I told you, I’m more Sauderian than Japafian. My ancestors know all that stuff, ask them!”
    The lady glared at Jara again. Then she softened. “No matter. You can still help me with my spell-casting.”
    “I really have to go.” Jara turned to leave.
    “Oh but you have to stay…or else.” Jara froze as the cold feel of steel touched his shoulder.
    “Uh okay…if you insist.”
    “I do.”