Imposter

Chapter 16

Just when Mason thought the town's plainness was going to bore him to death, he laid eyes upon the social pariah.

He had been in Kor for a long four weeks now, with frequent run-ins with Katrina and her little posse.

Mason had heard whispers of the evil sorcerer who plagued Kor, a murderer who couldn't be punished because he hadn't actually done anything.

Was someone really a murderer if all they did was pay off someone to kill their target?

Mason knew immediately who it was the first time he saw him in the bar, because everyone else remained a safe distance away.

The sorcerer was sitting at the counter, his shoulders hunched. His emerald green hair looked like it hadn't been brushed that day, and Mason could clearly see the ridges of his spine through the worn material of his gray t-shirt.

He took a seat at the end of the room, watching him from a distance.

When at last the sorcerer got up and left the bar, Mason started to get up to follow him.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," one of the serving girls commented. "He's a—"

"You're not me," Mason snarled, "and I'll do what I want."

She shut up, looking offended, and he stayed in his chair, slipping scraps of meat to Eddie beneath the table.

The second time Mason saw him, it was in an alley.

At first, he didn't even realize it was him because he walked by the fight without paying attention.

"Fucking magicker," someone taunted.

When Mason caught sight of a flash of green hair, he signaled Eddie to stay.

"Hey!" he shouted, striding over. "Fuck off, morons."

One of the boys stopped mid-kick, his lip curling back. "It's not your problem, friend," he said. "Stay out of it."

The sorcerer was curled up on the ground, cowering before them. His hands were covering his head.

"I said fuck off," Mason repeated. "Maybe you'd better listen before I stop feeling so nice about it."

One of the boys got in a one last kick before the group of five darted off.

"Well, you're popular," Mason said, twisting his mouth to the side. "You can get up now."

The other man slowly uncurled himself, sitting up and wiping blood off his lips.

Mason bit the pad of his thumb, stepping back and signaling Eddie back at his side.

Ever faithful, Eddie pressed himself against Mason's leg, quivering.

The sorcerer's face was streaked with dirt and blood, his skin pale beneath the grime. The set of his mouth was stubborn, his eyes downcast.

There was a stripe of red in his hair that matched the blood on his lips.

"You'll survive," Mason said dryly as he watched his face screw up with pain he tried to stand.

"I think they broke something," the sorcerer said, wiping a hand across his face.

His voice was pathetically small.

"Again."

Mason looked back down at his lips. "Do you have anyone who can heal it?"

People with magic couldn't heal themselves or use their telepathy. Those two things set them apart from the rest, but only in Terial was it a red flag.