“Magic’s dishonorable,” Buri muttered. “It’s—cheating.”
Alanna and Coram exchanged looks. “Do ye prefer ten-to-one odds?” Coram asked. “I don’t. We’ve got some brave younglings and yer princess who depend on us t’come back.”
“I don’t like this,” protested the K’mir. “It’s too confusing. I suppose you have a point. I can’t exactly challenge all of them to single combat.”
“What do ye have in mind?” Coram asked his knight-mistress.
Thinking, Alanna said, “I don’t know. A net, maybe, to tie them down while you take what we need.” Coram frowned, troubled. He knew she’d never done anything so big and real. He said nothing, for which she was grateful.
“Do your magic, then.” Liam’s voice was hoarse. “If you feel like it when you’re done, maybe you can lend a hand with the real work.” He returned to the canyon’s edge.
“That isn’t fair,” Buri protested softly, but the Dragon was out of earshot. “What he said isn’t fair,” she told Coram and Alanna.
“That’s all right—I understand,” Alanna told her. “You two had better get close to the camp. Don’t worry about what I’m doing. It won’t affect you.” She watched them slip over the canyon’s edge.
You used to feel like Liam, Faithful commented as he and Alanna went to the edge of the canyon. Magic and fighting don’t mix, and a fighter who uses magic is cheating.
“I’m older now,” whispered Alanna.
She heard Liam’s feral battle cry, and the sounds of fighting. A sentry had seen the Dragon. Alanna had no more time to think. Reaching for the first image in her mind, Alanna saw the Dominion Jewel. Even a vision of it was a catalyst: Alanna’s Gift rushed into and through it, swirling out over the bandit camp as a shimmering violet net. She maneuvered it into place, making sure each tent and bedroll was covered. It was hard to concentrate as elation filled her. Did Thom feel this powerful when he performed one of his great magics? No wonder he’d given up a normal life to become a sorcerer!
The net solidified. Coram, Buri, and Liam were unable to see it; they could only sense it. Alanna extended her magic until she could see what was happening below. Buri and Liam looted the bandits’ supply tent to fill packs with food and goods. Coram met them, leading four horses. The others he’d turned loose, making it impossible for the bandits to follow them.
Now Alanna strained, trying to free herself from the spell while leaving it in place. She couldn’t even banish the Jewel’s image. It burned in her mind like a beacon, keeping her inner eyes riveted to it. Already she felt the peculiar sinking that meant she had gone too far.
Cut it loose! Faithful yowled in her ear. Cut it loose, or you’ll pour your life into it! She couldn’t hear him through the focus the Jewel-image demanded.
Pain broke Alanna’s concentration as Faithful wrapped himself around her arm, his claws and teeth ripping into her skin. Now she could free herself of the Jewel’s hold. Peeling the cat off, she lurched to her feet. The net itself would hold another half hour or so, time for them to get away. “Thanks,” she told Faithful in a gasp.
When the others came for her with one of the spare horses, they saw she was unable to ride. Coram looked at Liam, but the Dragon’s expression made it clear he would rather not be near Alanna just then. Coram pulled her up behind him onto the saddle.
Alanna took two days to recover, sleeping to restore her strength. By the time she was on her feet, Liam had gotten over his anger with her enough to give a dawn lesson. That same day the small company took to the road once again, the teenagers each riding a horse, with a smaller child behind. Coram had the third ten-year-old, and Thayet rode with the baby in his sling on her chest. Buri rode the shaggy pony Coram had taken from the bandits.
Using the less-traveled paths, they moved quickly through the desolate highlands. They passed burned-out farms and cabins—all abandoned, their owners dead or run away. Almost every building had its own ugly reminder of the war in the shape of unburied bodies or skeletons. They saw and heard no evidence of human life, although the warriors all sensed watching eyes. Whoever spied on them stayed within the shelter of the trees, too frightened or too wary to approach.
These sights gave Alanna nightmares, dreams in which the bodies were Tortallan and the burned-out homes belonged to her friends. Liam soon found a way to deal with dreams: He gave an extra lesson in hand-to-hand combat after they stopped for the night. Between the new lessons, the regular ones at daybreak, and her turn on watch, Alanna soon was far too tired to dream.
Rachia was a bustling trade city, her streets packed with things to see. Even the many soldiers present couldn’t put a damper on people’s spirits. The children wriggled in their saddles, trying to look at everything. Buri stuck to Thayet, scowling at anyone who came too near. Alanna found it difficult to breathe and was dismayed to think she was more used to desert and woodlands than to crowded cities. How would she feel when she returned to Corus?
They had crossed the marketplace when some instinct warned her—she looked up to see an archer on a nearby rooftop. Alanna yelled, “Thayet!”
Liam was afoot, leading his Drifter. Hearing Alanna, he dragged Thayet and the baby from their saddle as an arrow sliced past their heads. A second arrow followed; Liam grabbed it from the air.
Buri dismounted, dark with rage, and ran into the building where the archer stood. Dismounting, Alanna saw that the building supported a sturdy flower trellis reaching from ground to roof. She tested it and started to climb, trying not to think about rotten wood or loose anchorings. “Coram! Get them to the convent!” she yelled as twigs showered onto her face. She didn’t look, but she heard Liam and Coram bellow orders.
She vaulted over the roof’s edge, keeping low. The assassin—swathed in headcloth and scarf—shot at her, then leaped to the next building. Alanna dodged, unsheathed her sword, and pursued. Behind her she heard a rooftop door crash open, and another pair of running feet. Wary, she glanced back to find Buri catching up. The K’mir was a faster runner than Alanna. She drew even within seconds, with her dagger in her hand. “Don’t kill him!” Alanna panted. “We need to know who pays him!” Buri nodded.
They raced from roof to roof, Buri and Alanna closing the gap. The assassin’s breath came harder; his steps faltered. The next roof was a story lower than the ones they ran on—the assassin jumped and landed awkwardly. Rising, he stumbled on.
Buri jumped and fell, her left leg twisting under her, but she ran on, sweat pouring down her face. Alanna jumped and rolled, as Liam and her wrestling teachers had instructed her; she got to her feet without any hurt. Buri shook her head when Alanna hesitated. “Don’t wait for me,” she hissed. “Get him!”
Alanna raced on. Finally their quarry was forced to halt—he’d run out of roofs.
Alanna stopped, afraid to scare him. “Talk to me!” she called. “I just want to know why—”
He jumped. When Alanna came to the roof’s edge, he lay in an alley below, sprawled and broken. Cursing, she returned for Buri. Ignoring the stares of the building’s inhabitants, she and the hobbling K’mir went down to the street and into the alley. No one else had noticed the assassin’s fall, Alanna was relieved to note. She didn’t want a street urchin or his older counterpart stealing the dead man’s belongings before she and Buri got the chance to examine them.