Authors: Leslie Ann Moore
“We were about to.” Magnes raised his hand to block the glare of the lantern. “Do you mind?” Corvin lowered the lantern, but his face remained hidden. Fadili shifted nervously at Magnes’ side.
Two of the burly guards flanking Corvin inched forward.
“Have you seen anyone out here?” the majordomo asked.
“Just you,” Magnes replied. “Why do you ask?”
“Don’t lie to me, healer!” Corvin spat. “I saw the tink slave come out here, and I saw him run toward this wagon!” He jabbed his finger in Magnes’ face.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Magnes replied coolly. “My assistant and I haven’t seen or spoken to Ashinji since we left the fighters’ mess.”
The guards surged forward, swords drawn. Fadili cried out in alarm.
“It’s all right, Fadili!” Magnes shouted. “What the hell are you doing?” he yelled at Corvin.
“Shut up!” Corvin growled. “Move a muscle and I’ll have you both gutted like fish.” He motioned to the remaining guards. “Search the wagon,” he ordered. One man scrambled aboard the infirmary through the front while another threw open the rear doors and climbed in the back.
“You won’t find anything,” Magnes said softly.
Corvin stepped in close enough for Magnes to smell the aroma of garlic and wine on his breath.
“Do you know the penalty for aiding an escaped slave, healer?” the majordomo asked. Magnes remained silent. “I’ll tell you, though I’m sure you know already. You lose both your hands. Now, what good’s a healer with no hands, eh?”
Magnes shrugged. “That’s not anything I need worry about,” he replied. He shot a sideways glance at Fadili. The younger man’s eyes shone white with fear in the light cast by Corvin’s lamp.
“If I find the tink hiding in your wagon, you’ll know for sure what it’s like, and so will your boy, here.” He tilted his head toward the terrified Fadili. Magnes took a step backward and fetched up against the side of the wagon. Through the wood, he could feel the vibrations made by the two guards as they tossed the inside of the infirmary, and abruptly, his fear turned into anger. It took all his will to hold his fury to a simmer, for to allow it to boil over now would only invite disaster.
Magnes and Corvin stared at each other across a chasm of suspicion and anger. Intellectually, Magnus understood—sympathized even—with the other man. Corvin was sworn to the service of his mistress, obligated to obey and protect her from all things detrimental to her, including the theft of her property. Magnes respected the majordomo for his loyalty, but he would not let that stop him from doing what he needed to do.
Several tense moments passed, and then one of the guards poked his head out of the back of the wagon and reported, “Naught in ‘ere, sir.”
The other guard emerged from the front and dropped to the ground with a grunt. “Empty,” he confirmed.
“You see?” Magnes said. “It’s as I’ve said. We’ve not seen your lady’s pet since we left him in the fighters’ mess. Why don’t you go and look in the bed of that tall redhead—Leeta, I think her name is? When we left, she was practically riding him there at the table.”
Corvin lowered his head and spat on the sand. “Tell me now where the tink is and I won’t report you to the authorities,” he said quietly. Magnes thought he heard a note of desperation in the majordomo’s voice, causing him to wonder if the man feared some reprisal should he let Armina de Guera’s most prized slave escape.
“How many times must I say it? We don’t know where he is. Now, let us leave in peace.” Magnes took a deep breath and waited. For a single heartbeat, everyone stood perfectly still.
“Get them,” Corvin muttered and the guards pounced.
Fadili screamed. Instinctively, Magnes tried to shield the younger man with his own body, but without a weapon, against armed men in close quarters, he was helpless. A guardsman rapidly overwhelmed him, then crushed him to the ground, holding him down with the brutal pressure of boots upon neck and back.
“Don’t hurt my assistant!” Magnes gasped, struggling for air.
“
Tell me right now where the tink is or the boy dies!”
Corvin screamed. Fadili’s terrified sobbing filled Magnes with sick dread
.
If he dies because of me…
“Enough, Corvin! I’m here!”
Ashi, no!
Magnes cried, but only in his mind, for sand filled his mouth and he could not speak.
“Let the healers go, Corvin,” Magnes heard Ashinji say. “They’re telling the truth. They had no idea I was here.”
“You’re a liar, tink,” Corvin sneered. “I saw you talking to them just before you disappeared. You’ll pay for this little escapade, I assure you, and don’t think the mistress’ll go easy on you just because she fancies you. Oh, no… that’d set a very bad precedent!”
“Let the healers go,” Ashinji repeated. Corvin laughed harshly in reply.
What transpired next Magnes felt, rather than saw. An explosion detonated close enough to pop his ears, yet he heard nothing. The pressure on his body lifted, and he scrambled to his feet, staring in astonishment. Corvin and all four guards lay sprawled, unmoving, on the ground. Beside the rear of the wagon, arms upraised like an avenging angel, stood Gran. Blue flames sputtered from her fingertips, then flickered out. Slowly, as if emerging from a trance, she let her arms fall to her sides.
How is it that Fadili and I are not unconscious?
Magnes wondered as he reached down to help the trembling apprentice to his feet.
“Are you hurt?” he whispered, but Fadili could only shake his head, still too overcome with fear to speak. Magnes glanced at the fallen men, then looked at Gran.
“Are they dead?” he asked uneasily.
“Shouldn’t be, but we don’t have time to worry about them!” Gran snapped. “Someone inside’s bound to have felt the explosion and will be out to investigate. We’ve got to leave now!”
Quickly, they all climbed aboard the wagon. Fadili and Magnes positioned themselves on the front seat while Gran wedged herself in among the shambles at the rear of the wagon’s interior. Magnes waited until he heard the secret panel in the wagon’s underside slam shut before he picked up the reins. He shook them, and the horse leaned into the harness. The infirmary rolled forward, and Magnes turned the animal’s head toward the gate. He tried not to think of Corvin and his men lying on the sand, or of the consequences they would suffer because of tonight’s escape.
“Aruk-cho has opened the gate,” Gran called out. “Drive straight through without stopping,” she ordered. The wagon’s wheels glided easily over the sand. The black maw of the gate loomed ahead, and from behind, Magnes could hear voices raised in alarm.
Despite Gran’s order and his own fear, Magnes had no intention of leaving without a final word to Aruk-cho. He reined in the horse just inside the gate.
“Go! Go!” hissed Gran, but Magnes ignored her.
“Aruk-cho!” he called out softly.
The akuta stepped from the shadows, his massive body a darker shape against the black of the night.
“You must leave now, healer, or else all will be lost.” The akuta’s voice, like gravel swathed in velvet, sounded calm.
“I couldn’t leave without saying farewell to you, Yardmaster. I hope that someday, we will have the good fortune to meet again.” Magnes looked down as he heard the soft
snick
of the secret panel opening beneath the wagon.
“As do I.” Ashinji’s voice floated out of the dark below and Magnes could just make out his form standing by the front driver’s side wheel. “I am in your debt, Brother,” he added, “and if the One decrees it, then I shall some day have the chance to repay you.”
“You owe me nothing, Little Brother,” Aruk-cho replied.
“Na’a chitatle ko.”
“And to you, my friend,” Ashinji said.
“Ashi, get up here!” Gran ordered. “We’ve run out of time, now go, go!”
Magnes slapped the horse’s rump with the reins and the wagon lurched forward as Ashinji, with Fadili’s help, swung up to the front seat, then scrambled back into the interior of the wagon. The horse broke into a lumbering trot as the wagon bumped and lurched over the uneven paving stones of the alley.
Magnes could not look back to see if Aruk-cho had managed to close the gate in time to avoid discovery, but he had confidence in the yardmaster’s ability to take care of himself. Aruk-cho would give them the head start they needed.
Magnes concentrated on steering the wagon through the maze of alleys that laced the environs of the Grand Arena, heading for the main ring road that encircled the entire complex. Once he had gotten clear of the arena district, he planned to take the most direct route out of the city.
He halted the infirmary on a side street just south of the main entrance to the Grand Arena to allow Ashinji to rejoin Seijon in the secret compartment. The clouds above spat fat droplets of water onto the land below. The wagon rolled through the rain-slick streets, passing shuttered shops, houses with windows aglow, and taverns with half-opened doors through which raucous laughter and snatches of song spilled out into the night.
Occasionally, a person on foot would emerge from the darkness ahead and hurry past to vanish into the mist behind. Otherwise, the streets were deserted. Magnes strained his ears for sounds of pursuit, but he heard none, and Gran, with her superior hearing and magical senses, had warned of nothing so far.
As they approached the outermost districts of the city, Magnes had to fight the urge to whip the horse into a gallop, knowing a wagon barreling through the streets late at night would almost certainly attract the attention of the constabulary. So far, they had passed several guard posts, unchallenged. The wet weather kept the city guards indoors, as Magnes had hoped.
No one had spoken since leaving the de Guera yard. Each of them remained wrapped in a cocoon of darkness and quiet, alone with his or her own thoughts. Magnes’ heart ached at the memory of cheerful, gentle Fadili screaming in terror as a guard had pressed a sword to his throat. He felt saddened by the possibility that the young apprentice healer might be forever changed by the trauma he had suffered at the hands of Armina de Guera’s guardsmen.
The hours passed and gradually, the slums of the outer districts gave way to suburban estates and then to open countryside. The rain slacked off, and overhead, the pale face of a three-quarter moon appeared amid shredded, racing clouds.
Gran finally broke the silence.
“Pull over to the side,” she said. Magnes did as instructed, pulling steadily on the reins until the wagon slowed to a stop. He set the hand brake, then turned to face Gran. She pushed past him and before he could ask if she needed any help, she had swung down off the wagon to the road.
Not for the first time, Magnes found himself surprised by the old elf woman’s vigor. She moved a few paces down the road and stood perfectly still, staring toward the city. In the moon’s cold light, her hair shimmered like silver-washed bone. It had come loose during the altercation at the yard and now hung down her back past her waist. Her slim body and flowing hair transformed her figure into the semblance of a young girl, yet an aura of immense power crackled about her like a mantle of lightning.
She turned in a slow circle, as if scanning the four directions, then walked quickly back to the wagon.
“I sense no pursuit, but there’s a large group of people just ahead,” she said. “I can’t tell who or what they are. They could be soldiers or a caravan of traders.”
Fadili fidgeted beside Magnes and for the first time in many hours, he spoke. “Perhaps we should wait here until sunrise.”
“Perhaps we should,” Magnes agreed. He climbed down and ducked underneath the wagon to rap on the undercarriage. The secret panel slid open and Seijon’s head popped out.
“What’s happening?” he asked breathlessly.
“We’ve decided to wait here until morning,” Magnes explained. “There’s a big group of people on the road just ahead and we don’t want to risk an encounter.”
Seijon slithered out of the hole to the muddy road. Ashinji emerged a few moments later, moving slowly, his hand pressed to his lower back.
“If we’re careful, we should be able to stay behind them,” Gran said. She laid a hand on Ashinji’s arm and spoke a few soft words in Siri-dar. Ashinji nodded and allowed Gran to take his head between her hands. She closed her eyes and a few moments later, Ashinji’s eyes fluttered closed as well. They remained thus for the space of several heartbeats, then Gran’s eyes opened and her hands fell away.
Ashinji sighed deeply. “Shiha,
”
he whispered, which Magnes recognized as the Siri-dar word for “thanks.” It seemed to him that his friend’s pain had been eased.
Ashinji turned to face Magnes. “We need to take the shortest route north—preferably northwest—but there’s the problem of the Soldaran Army blocking our way.”
“Yes, and traveling by the main roads is risky, even though it is faster,” Magnes replied. “I think our only choice is to head northeast, toward Amsara. I know a less traveled route and there is a small road—a path really—that veers off the main road just south of the Amsara border and heads west. It bypasses the castle by a few leagues and ends up at the southern edge of the Eanon Swamp. You’ll have to skirt the swamp, unless you know a way through…”