“Don’t look so surprised, Paxon. We’ve been waiting for you since nightfall. She said you would come, and I believed her. Too bad for you, isn’t it?”
Paxon closed the door behind him. Smokeless lamps on the nightstand and on the wall bracketing a large mirror across from the bed lent sufficient light for him to see clearly. Arcannen was sitting on the bed next to his sister, his black robes wrapped about him. His small, pinched features were crinkled with amusement, his black eyes bright and eager.
“You should have taken my advice and stayed home, boy. This probably won’t end well for you.”
Paxon held his gaze. “Maybe you are the one it won’t end well for.”
“That seems unlikely. Have you discovered who I am? Did the boy at the airfield catch you? He was supposed to give you directions.”
Paxon ignored the questions. “What do you want with my sister, anyway? Isn’t this going to an awful lot of trouble for one girl?”
Arcannen smiled. “Depends on how you value things. I value young women. I insist they keep their word when they make bets with me. This one made a bet and couldn’t pay when she lost. Bringing her here isn’t all that much trouble. Putting her to work is easy enough. Maybe she will like it well enough that she will want to stay on.”
He shrugged. “You, on the other hand, are a bit of a problem. I have no work for you. I would have preferred it if you had stayed in the Highlands, but since you have failed to do even that much I have to deal with you more harshly than I wanted to. I hoped the beating would be enough to keep you from coming here. But your sister was right. You are beyond stubborn.”
Paxon noticed the deep bruise across the far side of his sister’s face for the first time. She had been struck and struck hard. He felt his anger resurfacing, crowding out his fear. He had to get Chrys out of here, no matter what it cost him.
Arcannen seemed completely at ease. He didn’t appear to have any weapons, and none of his men seemed to be about. His confidence was troubling. It suggested that whatever magic he had was more than enough to disable or kill Paxon.
“Did you bring any money?” Arcannen asked suddenly.
Paxon shook his head. “I don’t have any money.”
“So you decided you would steal her back? That’s not very honorable of you. Didn’t your parents teach you better?”
“I don’t think you should be talking to me about honor. Why don’t you just let me have my sister back?”
Arcannen shook his head. “We are covering familiar ground. I think I’ve made my position clear on the matter. There’s no reason to talk about it any further.”
He got to his feet, still smiling. Then he stopped suddenly, as if something had just occurred to him. “I have a thought. Perhaps you would be willing to trade me something for your sister, something you don’t value as much as you value her. For instance, that sword.”
Paxon automatically glanced over his shoulder at the handle of the black blade. The Sword of Leah. “Why would you want that?”
Arcannen shrugged. “I collect old weapons, especially blades. That one seems very old and might have some real value. I could be wrong, but if I’m right I will make back what I would lose by letting you have your sister. You, on the other hand …”
He let the rest of what he was going to say hang. But it didn’t need saying. Which was more valuable to Paxon–his sister or the sword?
But he hesitated anyway. Something about this felt wrong. Instinctively, he sensed that Arcannen recognized the weapon and knew something about it he didn’t. He was awfully quick to give up on Chrys after refusing even to consider releasing her before.
“The offer is only good for the next ten seconds,” Arcannen threw in, looking suddenly bored. “I am already beginning to lose interest. After all, I can do so many more interesting things with your sister than I can with an old sword.”
Paxon was certain something wasn’t right now. Arcannen was pressing too hard. “All right, but only if you release my sister first.”
The sorcerer gave him a sharp look. “Why would I agree to that?”
“If I give you the sword, you will have both the sword and my sister–here, in your own building. I’d be a fool.”
Arcannen studied him further, then shrugged. Pulling out a knife, he severed Chrysallin’s bonds and removed the gag. She scooted off the bed and stood uncertainly, as if perhaps she hadn’t gotten her balance back. Then she moved over to stand beside her brother, ignoring Arcannen.
“Are you all right?” Paxon asked. “Are you hurt?”
His sister shook her head. She was almost as tall as he was, though still gangly and awkward in the way of very young fillies, but there was such determination in her eyes that it gave him pause.
“Now give me the sword,” Arcannen ordered, still standing next to the bed.
Paxon leaned over and kissed his sister’s cheek. “Get behind me,” he whispered, keeping his face hidden with hers. “Jayet is outside the door.”
She moved behind him obediently. “Open the door, Chrys,” he told her, facing Arcannen again. “See what’s out there.”
She did as he asked, then rushed out into Jayet’s arms.
“The sword?” Arcannen pressed. “You won’t get out of here alive otherwise.”
“Go downstairs,” Paxon called over his shoulder to the girls. “Get out of here. I’ll catch up to you in a minute.”
“You try my patience!” Arcannen snapped, starting toward him.
But Paxon quickly reached over his shoulder and unsheathed the sword. “Don’t you want to examine it first and make certain of what you are getting?” he asked, holding the blade in front of him. The black metal glittered in the dim light. “Come, have a look.”
The sorcerer smiled. “You never intended to give it up, did you? You intended to keep it all along.”
“Remember what you said about me a moment ago, about not being very honorable? It seems that, where you are concerned, it’s true.” He backed toward the doorway, eyes fixed on the sorcerer.
“Put it down!” Arcannen ordered, his face flushed, throwing back his robes. “Do it while you still have the chance, boy!”
“Stop calling me ‘boy,’ and I will consider your suggestion.”
“You have no idea what I will do to you if you refuse! Don’t be a fool. I’ll finish you and go after your sister, and you will both be dead!”
Paxon was within the open doorway now and almost clear of the room, still watching the other closely. Arcannen was going to do something; he just didn’t know what the other’s magic allowed. He backed up another step. He had no idea how he was going to get out of this; he only knew he wasn’t giving up the sword willingly because he knew now how badly Arcannen wanted it.
He risked a quick look out of the corner of his eye. The hallway was deserted. Chrys and Jayet were gone, and there wasn’t any sign of Arcannen’s men. Time to make a run for it.
But Arcannen was already moving. He seemed to gather himself all at once, everything folding into his body–almost as if he were collapsing. His arms thrust outward violently and wicked black light exploded from his fingertips, shooting across the open space that separated him from Paxon.
Paxon, acting without thinking, brought the blade of his sword up sharply to deflect the attack.
Then something strange happened. A surge of heat burst inside him and the black blade of the Sword of Leah flared to life, its length gone bright and reflective, its metal infused with greenish snakes that wove their way through its length. It happened all at once–so quickly that Paxon had only a split second for it to register before the sorcerer’s magic struck, throwing him backward through the doorway and across the hall to slam into the wall beyond.