“We can take them. Three each. I’ll take the left,” Janco said. The men closed around them.
“They’re armed and we’re not,” his partner countered.
“Hasn’t stopped us before. And besides, if they wanted to kill us, we’d be dead by now and would be having an entirely different conversation. I wonder if I’d still be mad at you, or if we would talk in words or pictures. Maybe in smells. That would be cool.”
Their attackers glanced at each other in confusion. Good. It would keep them guessing. Janco drew breath to continue.
Ari interrupted, “Scimitars aren’t their only weapon. They’re magicians.”
His scar ached. Janco resisted the urge to rub it. “Magic.” He spat. “That’s not playing fair.”
“No one ever said life had to be fair,” Ari said.
“My mother did. Made me share with my—”
“Enough,” Stripey ordered. “No more jabbering. You will listen to me.” He frowned at them.
If it wasn’t for their colorful robes, the men would have blended into the darkness. Bald heads drank in the moonlight and bare feet stood in the classic fighting stance. Their family resemblance was unmistakable. Janco guessed the six of them were from the same Sitian clan. And since they favored the scimitar, they were probably from the Sandseed clan. Which, if Janco had the choice, wouldn’t be who he wanted to ambush him.
“We are searching for the same thing,” Stripey said.
“How do you know?” Janco asked.
“I read his mind.” The Sitian pointed to Ari. “Yours was too…chaotic. Too many useless thoughts to wade through.”
A compliment or an insult? Janco guessed compliment and preened.
“Why are you after Rye?” Ari asked.
“His weapon is not a normal blade,” Stripey said.
“I knew it! I told you the sword had a mind of its own. Wait till Maren—”
“Quiet!” Stripey slashed his hand through the air, rendering Janco literally speechless. He struggled to talk, but no sound escaped Janco’s throat.
Ari huffed in amusement. “Wish I could learn that trick,” he muttered.
Janco gave him a pained look.
“Rye’s scimitar is called Pemba and she is very dangerous. Forged with blood magic long ago, Pemba seeks to control the one who holds her hilt. Rye has woken her, and, every time he draws blood with Pemba, she grows stronger.”
“What happens when she gains control of Rye?” Ari asked.
“She will use him to slaughter as many people as possible, drawing even more strength from their blood.”
Janco knew he hated magic for a reason. He struggled to make a sarcastic comment, but couldn’t produce a sound.
“Sword bad. Got it. So why attack us and not Rye?” Ari asked.
“Pemba has gained enough power to counter our magic. We tried to reclaim her last night in the soldier’s barracks, but could not.”
The lack of substance, Janco thought, was magic. He hadn’t dreamed it. And he couldn’t even gloat about it—what a horrible time to lose his voice.
“You didn’t answer my question,” Ari said.
“We need your help in reclaiming the scimitar.”
Janco’s scar burned. Something didn’t jive. Six well-armed men with at least one magician should be able to acquire one scimitar.
As if reading his thoughts—chaotic my ass—Stripey said, “We do not blend in, while you should be able to get close to your colleague and steal her.”
How did Stripey know this weapon was female? Janco studied the Sitians, trying to deduce their motives.
Ari shook his head. “No can do. Valek deals with anything involving magic. When he returns—”
“It will be too late. Pemba will be unstoppable.” Stripey’s grip tightened on his weapon.
Janco noticed the other five men copied their leader’s gesture. Interesting how they all held their scimitars at hip level and their fighting stances were mirror images of Stripey’s. His scar pulsed with pain,
reminding him of his mother poking him with her long fingernails, telling him to use his brain.
An illusion! If Janco could talk, he would have groaned aloud. Stripey was alone. The other five were a magical illusion. He had paid attention when Yelena told him about illusions. But how could he tell Ari?
“The answer’s still no,” Ari said.
“I was not asking.” Stripey stepped close to Janco. The sharp edge of his scimitar touched Janco’s throat. “You will recover Pemba, or your partner will lose his head.”
Ari’s partner had a scimitar against his neck. He met Janco’s gaze. The Sandseed magician had offered him an ultimatum. Either do what he wants or Janco loses his head. Ari wasn’t sure if Janco’s frustrated expression was because of the circumstances—he hated to be left behind—or because the magician had taken away Janco’s ability to talk.
Ari began to think Janco’s plan to attack despite the fact they didn’t have weapons was a good one. He unlaced his hands and stood slowly.
“Careful or your friend dies,” the Sandseed said.
Janco’s fingers twitched. He was signaling Ari something about numbers. Five into one and something about an intrusion. Did Janco think there were five more Sandseeds on the way?
“Rye has taken Pemba east. If you hurry, you can catch up with him,” the Sandseed said.
“Won’t work,” Ari said.
“Why not?”
“The scimitar Pemba is already too strong for me. We’d have to go together.”
Janco gave him a pointed look. He was trying to tell Ari something. Finally he rolled his eyes and moved. Rolling backward and away from the blade, Janco kicked his leg and knocked the scimitar from the Sandseed’s hand. He jumped to his feet and tackled the man.
Ari spun, and went on the defensive. With his back to Janco, he slid his feet into a fighting stance. Balancing his weight on the balls of his feet, Ari waited for the other Sandseeds to attack. They stood staring at him with quizzical expressions then vanished.
“What the hel—”
“Finally! I can talk!” Janco said.
Ari turned. Janco held the Sandseed’s scimitar in his hand. The man lay on the ground, unconscious.
“Care to explain?” Ari asked.
“Didn’t you see my signals?”
“Yeah. But they didn’t make sense. Five into one and it’s an intrusion.”
“It’s an illusion! Five of them are an illusion.”
“That’s not the signal for illusion. This is.” Ari demonstrated the proper signal.
“That’s what I did.”
“No, you didn’t. You did a weird twisty thing with your pinky.”
“I had a scimitar at my throat. I’d like to see you try signaling under those conditions.”
Ari opened his mouth to retort, but thought better of it. They could argue for weeks and not resolve a thing. He changed tactics. “You did very well. You knocked him unconscious and stopped his magic.”
As expected, Janco preened.
Ari gazed at the magician on the ground. “How do we keep him from doing magic once he wakes up?”
“We could kill him. Magic’s illegal in Ixia.”
“But what if he’s right about this Pemba? We may need his help.”
Janco rummaged in his pack. “I’ve got sleeping potion and Valek’s goo-goo juice. We could keep him unconscious or loopy.”
“Then we’ll have to carry him with us. No, we need something to scare him into cooperating with us.” Ari searched his memory, but he didn’t know enough about magic or magicians.
Janco rubbed the scar where his right earlobe used to be. “How about the cure-all stuff Yelena told us about? The Sitians really hated that stuff.”
Ari smiled. “Curare. It would work. Do you have any?”
“No.” Then Janco grinned with pure mischievousness. “But he doesn’t know that.”
While waiting for the Sandseed to wake up, Ari and Janco packed up the camp and found their weapons. They poured water into a small glass vial, and readied a dart.
“Remember, this guy can read minds. So you can’t think about how we’re trying to trick him,” Ari said.
When the Sandseed stirred, Ari sat on his chest and pressed his knife to the man’s jugular.
“Janco figured out your illusion and he can do it again. So one hint of magic, and I’ll slice your throat.” Ari growled.
The Sandseed wheezed. “Can not…breathe.”
“That’s the least of your worries. You’re under arrest for using magic in Ixia.”
“Can not…hold me…I will…escape.”
“Not unless we run out of Curare. Janco, prick this bastard.”
Terror filled the man’s dark brown eyes as Janco aimed a metal dart at his face. A drop of clear liquid hung off the end.
“No! Wait…I have…a message…for you from…the Soulfinder.”
Soulfinder? The partners glanced at each other.
“Yelena…Zaltana.”
“He’s bluffing,” Janco said. “He knows this stuff will paralyze him and his magic. The dungeon guards will keep dosing him until they unwrap the noose from around his dead neck.”
“Sieges weathered…fight together…friends forever.”
Ari didn’t want to believe it. The Sandseed just recited the special message Janco had inscribed to Yelena on her switchblade. It had been written in a secret code, so the man couldn’t have learned it on his own.
“Is that the message?” Ari asked.
“No…proof.”
Ari removed his weight for the man’s chest, but kept his knife pressed to his skin. “Talk. Now.”
“Yelena sent me to enlist your help to recover Pemba.”
“If that’s the case, you need to seriously work on your people skills,” Janco said.
“I did not want to involve…strangers. I thought I could get the scimitar and return home without any problems.”
“But,” Ari prompted.
“Pemba has grown too strong for me. So I followed you from the castle.”
“Did you ever consider telling us this before you ambushed us?” Janco asked.
“I wanted to test you. If you had no clue about magic or could not defend yourself against my scimitar, you would have been of no use to me.”
“How’d we do?” Ari asked.
“I am…impressed. Most Sitians can not spot an illusion.”
Ari groaned to himself. “You shouldn’t have said that,” he said to the Sandseed.
“Ha! Hear that, Ari? I’m better than most Sitians.” Janco danced a little jig.
Ari tried to ignore him. “I’m still not happy about this. Valek’s the one who deals with magic.”
“But he is on a special mission for Yelena, and will not be back for months. Even you do not know where he is.”
Janco stopped dancing and Ari stood, pulling the Sandseed to his feet. If he knew about Valek, then he was legitimate.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“Bour Sandseed.”
“Okay, Bour do you know where Rye is?”
“Yes.”
Janco rubbed his scar. “I’ve got a bad feeling about all this. Really bad.”
Janco’s ear pulsed with pain. It felt as if it had been jabbed by a red hot poker, but instead it had been caused by his instinct, warning him to danger. The one and only time he had failed to follow his gut instinct had resulted in losing the lower half of his right ear. At least, he hadn’t lost his head, which his opponent had been trying hard to do.
