The boy tilted his head. The rain was running in rivulets down his black hair, but he looked at her with a spark of weary earnestness. “I know the practitioners of old are spoken of as no more than legends and lore these days. But we exist. We always have. And you…” He made as if to reach for her left arm, then thought better of it and pointed, instead, at her scar. “If you are not one of us, then you have been in contact with one of us. It is a great undertaking for a practitioner to imbue a Seal unto someone.”
