Part 8 (2/2)

And gasped down at his right wrist, almost severed by Barak's blade. The sword dropped to the dirt.

Barak smiled down at the crumpling figure. ”Then again, maybe I aa””

An arm closed on his throat, dragging him back, off-balance. At the edge of his vision, a gleaming dagger rose, and started to fall.

Time seemed to slow. You stupid idiot. You know better than to chat while a fight's going on. He released his grip on the sword, bringing his hands up to block the downward thrust, knowing that he'd never make it in time.

It just wasn't possible; the knife only had to travel a few inches to reach his throat, but his hands would have to seize the wrist, stop the downward movementa”

Both hands met at the soldier's flaccid arm, as the other arm loosened at his throat. He grabbed, twisted, brought an elbow back into his enemy's midsection, and spun around.

”No need,” Ahira's voice rasped from behind.

Barak looked at the soldier. A crossbow bolt transfixed the man's head from temple to temple, its dark iron head bent, crumpled.

The dead soldier stared up at him, eyes wide in reproach.

Tw.a.n.g! Barak turned to see Ahira standing over Walter, drawing the string of his crossbow back, slipping in another bolt and sending it whistling into the leader. ”Never worry about conserving bolts. Better to make sure that they stay dead.” The dwarf sent another bolt into the smoldering body of the first soldier, the one whose lamp Barak had shattered, then looked up, a crooked grin on his broad face. ”Not bad, Barak. Not too bad at all.” He frowned. ”Except for that stupid bit of bravado. But never mind; just do it better next time. Right now, we've got to get these bodies hidden, have Doria heal Hakima”and you, come to think of it; don't want your arm getting infecteda”then get ourselves packed up and out of here. There's probably going to be h.e.l.l to paya”hey, what's wrong?”

Karl Cullinane was on his hands and knees in the dusty road, the stench of burning flesh in his nostrils, vomiting like a fiend.

Squinting in the dawn light, Ahira tugged at the cords las.h.i.+ng his two rucksacks together, then shook his head. It would tend to keep him off balance, having two packs on his back, but that couldn't be helped. Somebody had to carry the extraa”either that, or leave behind supplies that might be needed.

”Hakim?”

87.

THE SLEEPING DRAGON.

The thief stopped fiddling with his pack and lifted his head. ”What is it?”

Ahira held out a hand. ”Toss me one of your knives. If I have to, I want to be able to cut these loose.”

”Fine.” Hakim flipped a knife point-first into the ground at Ahira's feet, then turned back to his work.

Ahira opened his mouth, then closed it. Ever since Doria had healed Hakim, he had been distant, quiet, not himself Not at all. Best to leave him alone, at least for a while. What had happened in Lundeyll must have been bada”climbing down a sheer wall with a knife in his shoulder, running flat-out for five miles with soldiers after him, wanting his blood....

He'll get over it. He's always been strong.

Doria gave her rucksack a final pat, then raised an eyebrow in an unvoiced question. There would be a bit of time until the others were ready to leave; Ahira had a.s.signed loads based on physical strength, and the only one with less to carry than Doria was Aristobulus. Less to carry; less time to pack.

He gave her a nod and the warmest smile he could come up with. ”Go ahead.” Even if she was almost out of healing spells, maybe she could do some good.

As Doria crouched beside Hakim, Ahira beckoned the others to him.

”You almost ready?” Ahira kept his voice low. No need to distract Doria or Hakim.

Andrea nodded. She was keeping her distance from Barak. That was strange, considering the way she'd behaved the previous morning. Then she had clung to him like a leech. ”Just a couple more minutes.”

Barak frowned, rubbing fingertips against the bloodstained tear on the arm of his jerkin. The blood had dried, and Doria had healed the wound, so it couldn't be hurting him.

Then again, not all wounds are to the body.

Barak shrugged. ”I'll be done shortly. I can take more, if necessary. No need to have the rest put out a lot of effort carrying what I can haul easily.” He flexed his shoulders, threatening to split the seams of his jerkin.

Ahira smiled. Barak was getting d.a.m.n c.o.c.ky, after the way he'd almost gotten himself killed. Then again, that was better than his Karl-self exercising his guts about a few local soldiers who had been trying to kill Hakim and him when they died.

”You too, An? Good. Just as soon as Doria's done talking to Hakim, we head down to Lundeport, and see if we can book pa.s.sage to Pandathaway.” He stooped to pick up Hakim's knife and stuck it diagonally under his belt, the cutting edge up, then bent carefully at the waist to make certain it was secure, and that it wouldn't cut him. A quick check on the straps binding his battleaxe to his chest showed that they were tight, too, although it would take only two quick tugs to undo the loops and free the axe.

”Pandathaway? Andrea's forehead wrinkled. ”G.o.d, that sounds familiar.” She turned to Barak. ”Doesn't it, Karl?”

He shook his head. ”No. First I've heard of it. Maybe you overheard something, when Hakim was telling Ahira what happened down there.” He glared down at the dwarf. ”Not that he's seen fit to share it with the rest of us.”

The warrior had all the sensitivity of a stone. ”He didn't want to have a bunch of people around,” Ahira said, not bothering to keep the scorn out of his voice. ”How would you feel if you'd been cut up like he was?”

”Listena””

”Karl.” Andrea took a careful step closer to him. ”Didn't you tell me once, quite a while back, about another character of yours? Something of Pan-something... ?”

Barak nodded, quizzically, stroking at his beard just the way Karl Cullinane used to stroke at the stubble on his face. ”Sure. Lucius of Pandathawaya”Pandathaway.''' His face lit up; he dropped his sword, grabbed her by the arms, whirling her around. ”Pandathaway! Of course. I know where we are, wea””

”Put me down!” As he did, she rubbed at her shoulders, arms crossed defensively across her chest. ”You practically pulled my arms off, you clumsya””

”Quiet.” Ahira turned to the big man, who was still grinning like an idiot. ”Two things: First, what do you mean, you know where we are? Second: Why the h.e.l.l didn't you mention it before?”

”It was a... character Deighton and I rolled up, once. I never got a chance to use him, but he filled me in on the backgrounda”where he came from, like that.” He rubbed his fists against his temples. ”I... I don't know why I didn't think of it before. It's like there's too much inside my head, too much to manage.”

”I understand.” Ahira had been wrong to give him trouble for not remembering. Things in James Michael Finnegan's life seemed like something distant; it took a bit of effort to be James Michael, sometimes, to think like him.

But that didn't cure his impatience. ”Would you please tell us what you know about Pandathaway? It could bea””

”d.a.m.n important.” Barak nodded, still smiling. ”And it's all good. Pandathaway's a port city, on the Cirrica””

”The Cirric?”

”It's a huge freshwater sea, sort of like one of the Great Lakes, only biga”” He caught himself, pointed an eager finger at the vast expanse of water spreading out over the horizon, ”That's the Cirric!”

”Almost certainly. You were talking about Pandathaway?”

”You're going to like it. Nice place. No governmenta”well, not much of one. The city's run by a council of guilds. Lot of them are merchants, so they like to keep the city open and safe, to keep the customers coming. Doc said that you can buy most anything there. There's a saying: Tola ergat et Pandathaway ta.” Everything comes to Pandathaway, in Erendra. Barak shook his head, puzzled, ”But he didn't say it in Erendra, he said it ina””

”It translated.” Aristobulus nodded wisely. ”As we did. It makes sense, if you think about it.”

”Not to me,” Barak said, shrugging. ”But I was sayinga”you can get anything there: jewels, silks, spices, slaves, horsesa” Lucius owns a Pandathaway-bred mare; keeps a quarter horse's pace for a full two milesa”anything.” He beamed. ”And I haven't even given you the best.”

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