"Sir!"
Teroh jerked the bird-thing's leash, and it spread its wings and shook itself. The major turned to Baankis and said, "Stand by to collect one bad- mannered boy and one mysterious satchel."
"Yes, sir!"
Major Teroh dropped the bird's leash and pointed at Chainer. "Subdue," he said, and the bird took flight.
Chainer watched it bearing down on him, its wingspan as wide as he was tall. It swerved so as to avoid the dagger clutched tight in his left hand. Chainer knew that with its speed and its long neck it could disarm him, knock him over, or pin him down before his blade could even touch it. Grimly, he waited.
When the bird was ten feet away, Chainer lashed out with his right hand. The length of chain he had been concealing snapped out, screaming directly toward the oncoming bird. Chainer's aim was excellent. The sharpened weight at the end of the chain smashed clean through the bird's skull, killing it instantly. Chainer caught the still-twitching corpse as it crashed into his chest and let it drop heavily to the ground.
"Callda!" Major Teroh shouted.
Chainer held onto the chain, now threaded through the ruined skull of the bird, and sneered at Teroh. "Callda, was it? Friend of yours, Major, or a distant cousin? Don't worry, it didn't die in vain." Chainer scornfully nudged the carcass. "I'll light a candle for it when I get home." He put his knuckle dagger back into the quick-release sheath on his shoulder.
"Baankis," Teroh growled and drew his sword. "Advance. If this murderous little worm survives, he is going to spend the next three years in a rehabilitation work camp."
Baankis was wide-eyed but resolute. "Yes, sir." Chainer was pleased to hear that his replies were no longer so crisp and regimental.
"Hold on, Major," Chainer said. "If you liked that, you're going to love this." Without waiting, Chainer dropped to his knees by Callda's body, clenched the end of his chain tighter, and reached out to the corpse with his mind as Master Skellum had taught him.
The bird's heart had only recently stopped beating. Robbed of any vital impetus, its blood gave in to gravity and began to pool in its torso. Its muscles drained and deflated, its body temperature dropped, and its joints started to stiffen. Chainer took hold of the energy being released by the bird's transition from life to death and channeled it up and into his chain.
"The Cabal is here," he whispered, and then he cried out as a jolting rush of energy leaped up the chain and into his own body. He felt his consciousness expand, he felt his arms and legs grow stronger and more responsive, he felt his thoughts clarify. He stood and jerked the chain free from Callda's skull. He began to twirl it around his head, letting out more and more of it as it spun. Chainer was ferocious in his joy. This was going better than he could have imagined. Perhaps he wouldn't need Skellum's help after all.
"Keep your distance, Bunkus," he said to the foot soldier, and he could hear the confidence in his voice as it echoed off the street's paving stones. Charged by the death of Callda, Chainer was flush with the arcane darkness that was the source of the Cabal's power. He felt immovable, invincible. With the barest thought, he magically added another six feet to his chain and created another sharpened weight for the end in his hand. Soon he had two lethal missiles dancing a complicated minuet around every inch of his body. The chain automatically increased or decreased in length as it flew, according to its master's will. Young as he was, Chainer was an expert with the long chain, and he even dared to mock Teroh from the safety of its whirling radius.
"Your move, Major," he called. "There's a hot meal and a safe bed waiting for me at the Cabal, too. If you let me pass, maybe we'll both sleep well tonight."
Teroh's eyes were wild, and his voice was tight in his throat. With a visible effort of will, he swallowed his fury and barked, "Reseda!"
Chainer heard a buzz and saw a blur. A sudden impact on his chest knocked him backward so hard that Roup's door rattled on its hinges. His chain snarled and tangled around him clumsily, and one of the weighted ends gashed painfully into his shin. Dazed, he looked up.
The mantis-man stood over him, chittering in its incomprehensible insect language. It jammed one of its pointed forelimbs into the solid stone beside Chainer's head and hissed at him. There was another buzz, another blur, and the mantis disappeared back into the alley behind Major Teroh.
"Reseda hates this city," Teroh said, "but he hates that thing in your satchel even more."
Chainer coughed and tasted blood. He had bitten his tongue and split his lip. His ears were still ringing, and his vision was tilted sideways. At least his ribs weren't broken, he thought. He could still breathe, albeit painfully.
"Now then, Cabalist," Teroh continued, spitting the last word out like poison. "You will surrender. Trooper Baankis and I are going to bind your hands. If you behave, we will even bind your wounds. Then you will accompany us back to our citadel where you will offer apologies and make restitution for Callda. And then, you will be rehabilitated."
Chainer grunted. "Die first. And haunt you forever."
"I don't think so." Teroh waved his hand in front of him, whispering, and the razor edges of both his and Baankis's swords began to glow brightly. "Baankis?"
"Sir!" Trooper Baankis had regained his gusto.
"Forward." The two soldiers advanced in step with their swords drawn and radiant. Chainer struggled to get to his feet but slumped back against the door of the tavern.
"My goodness," came a silky, sinuous voice. "Now this is simply unacceptable. Chainer, what have you been up to?"
The speaker stepped out from around the corner of the building into the light. He was a small, neat man, elegant in his manner and graceful in his movements. He was dressed in form-fitting snakeskin died midnight black, and he wore a waterproof cape with a bright red collar and black fur lining. His head was completely concealed by a bell-shaped hat made of grayish paper stretched tight between stiff wire ribs. The hat hung loosely from a hook that sprouted up from a wire rig attached to his shoulders. It had gaps between every second panel that allowed him to see, but each gap was only a few inches wide.
One of the gaps was now positioned directly in front of his face. He had clear blue eyes, an elegant beard, and a neat mustache. Beside him stood a huge black dog whose head was as big as a pony's. The dog's shoulder came up to the man's elbow, and she clearly outweighed him. Her eyes glowed dusky red in the shadow of her brow.
"My name is Skellum, and I wear a silly hat." The newcomer spoke brightly, as if introducing himself to a dinner party full of children. "Is there a problem, officer?"
CHAPTER 2
"Azza, old girl," Skellum said, and the massive dog beside him pricked up her ears. "Check on young Chainer, will you?" Despite his pain, Chainer was thrilled. Only the Cabal elite had access to the hellhounds, and Chainer had never seen one so close. Major Teroh regarded the new arrivals suspiciously. Chainer watched his eyes dart from Skellum to the dog to the doorway of Roup's tavern. Chainer knew all of the Order's toy soldiers prided themselves on their ability to control every situation they encountered. Teroh was clearly weighing the odds as Azza came closer.
"Stop right there," Teroh said. Azza paused, then growled at Teroh so deeply that Chainer felt it in his spine twenty feet away. "This boy-" Teroh began.
"Chainer," Skellum corrected him gently. "He is called Chainer." "This boy," Teroh repeated, "is transporting contraband. When we tried to examine it, he lashed out at Trooper Baankis and ran. When we caught up to him, he killed one of my best crusat birds. He is coming with us."