Although the sorceress suspected her words to be true, a pang of guilt shot through her breast. By doing as the youth asked, there was a slim chance she might have won his freedom. Unfortunately, if the templars realized they had captured the wrong person, they would probably resume their search for Raka. Sadira could not allow that to happen, for doing so would place Nibenay’s Veiled Alliance at risk. Instead, she would try to save the boy later, once Raka had had plenty of time to disappear.
It did not appear Dhojakt would give her that chance. “We have no need of the youth,” he said.
One of the templars pulled a dagger from her belt and raised it to strike.
“No!” Sadira yelled, spinning around to face Dhojakt.
The prince motioned the templar to stop. “Obviously, this boy is not of the Veiled Alliance, or he would never have allowed himself to be captured alive,” said Dhojakt. “Is there some other reason I should spare his life?”
“Is there any cause to take it?”
The prince smiled at her calmly. “I need no cause.”
He nodded to the templar, signaling her to finish what she had begun.
Though she had no doubt Dhojakt expected her to attack, the sorceress turned her palm downward. Before she could summon the energy for a spell, a tremendous sizzle echoed through the square. A woman’s voice screamed in agony, and the templar who had been preparing to kill the innocent youth fell to the ground. Her back was covered with a bubbling slime that had already dissolved the flesh clear to the bone.
The prince raised a hand and pointed across the square, to where Raka was peering from behind the trunk of an agafari tree. “There’s the one we want,” Dhojakt said. “After him!”
The uninjured templar and both half-giants obeyed the prince, sending astonished townsmen scurrying in all directions. Raka fled, and, closer to Sadira, so did the astonished youth who had been mistaken for the young sorcerer.
Sensing the time had come for her to escape as well, Sadira began to draw the energy for the spell. Dhojakt’s claws clattered across the cobblestones, and he was beside her almost instantly.
“Don’t,” the prince advised, his corpulent lips drawn back and his bony mouthparts dripping venom. “Before you die, my father wishes to hear how you learned of the Pristine Tower.”
“You know where I’m going?” Sadira gasped. Despite her shock, the sorceress did not cut off the flow of energy rising into her body.
“You have been warned,” Dhojakt snapped. He reached out to grasp Sadira, at the same time lowering his gruesome mouth to her neck.
The sorceress leaped back. Her feet had barely touched the ground when a golden flare shot from the darkness of a distant alley. The streak blasted into the prince’s temple, exploding into a ball of blazing embers that would have reduced a half-giant’s head to a lump of charred bone.
The spell did not even scorch Dhojakt. The prince shook his head as though dazzled by the light, then scowled at the tunnel from which he had been attacked.
The attack stunned Sadira more than it had Dhojakt. It did not seem unusual that another member of the Veiled Alliance had been secretly watching her exchange with Raka, but the sorceress could hardly believe the unseen wizard had moved so quickly to defend her. The Tyrian Alliance would not have extended such protection to a stranger.
Nevertheless, Sadira was determined not to waste the bravery of the Nibenese. Judging from how easily the prince had resisted the previous spell thrown at him, the sorceress knew it would be futile to use magic to injure him. Instead, she could only hope to keep him detained long enough for her and her saviors to flee.
Dhojakt grasped her wrist and started toward the alley. “You shall pay for your brazenness!” he yelled.
Sadira plucked a thread from her robe. She laid the strand across his arm, simultaneously uttering an incantation. The filament lengthened, wrapping itself around Dhojakt hundreds of times in the span of a single instant. From the head to the last segment of his centipedelike body, the prince was swaddled in a mesh of constricting fibers.
The sorceress pulled free and ran toward her rescuer’s tunnel. She was only a few yards from her goal when she heard Dhojakt’s voice. “Do you really think you’ll escape Nibenay when I’m looking for you?”
Sadira looked over her shoulder. The prince was still entwined, but he had curled himself into a ball. With the claws of his many legs, he was furiously ripping apart the strands of her magical net-strands that should have been impervious to cutting or tearing for another hour.
“In the name of Ral!” she gasped. “Is there no magic that will stop you?”
NINE
THE BARD’S QUARTER
Sadira fled into the alley, leaving Dhojakt in the square. Once she had gained the sheltering darkness of the tunnel she paused and called into the shadows.
“I owe you my life. Where to now?”
No one replied. From behind the sorceress came the sound of more clattering. She glanced back and saw that Dhojakt had freed his hands. He was pulling the magical mesh off his torso as if it were ordinary rope. He kept his nose turned in her direction, his nostrils flaring as he tested the air for her scent.
The sorceress moved deeper into the tunnel. “Hello?”
When her only answer was the distant sound of running feet, Sadira decided to waste no more time looking for her rescuer. She rushed into the darkness, not waiting even the single moment it would take for her elven vision to become active. A few steps later, she came to a corner and saw light streaming in from the right.
Sadira rushed around the corner and felt a huge, knobby hand grasp her by the wrist. A hulking form stepped away from the alley wall, silhouetting itself against the far end of the tunnel.
“Magnus!” Sadira gasped.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” came the windsinger’s reply.
A taller, more slender form stepped into view from the opposite wall. “You cost Faenaeyon a lot of silver, and he wants it back,” said Rhayn, brandishing a bone dagger. “He’s sent the whole tribe out to look for you.”
Sadira casted a nervous glance back towards Sage’s Square. Of course, she saw nothing but darkness, which only made her more fearful of the threat that would soon be coming after her. “Faenaeyon’s not going to get his coins back, especially if we don’t get out of here.”
Sadira started to move forward, but Magnus pulled her back. Rhayn pressed the dagger to the sorceress’s throat. “Not until we come to an agreement.”
“You don’t understand!” Sadira objected. “Prince Dhojakt will be-”
“I know all about Prince Dhojakt,” hissed Rhayn. “Who do you think saved you from him?”
“You?” Sadira gasped.
Rhayn nodded. “My spells may not be as powerful as yours, but they serve their purpose,” she said. “Now, as you pointed out just a moment ago, you owe me your life. I’ll settle for a favor that costs you a great deal less.”
“What do you want?” Sadira asked, listening for any sign that Dhojakt had entered the other end of the tunnel.
“Do you remember the matter we discussed at the Silver Spring?”
“The overthrow of Faenaeyon,” Sadira responded.
Rhayn nodded. “Will you help me, or would you rather return to the prince? Answer quickly-I doubt you have much time to think matters over.”
“I’ll do it,” Sadira answered. “Assuming you’ll keep me hidden from Dhojakt until I can make other arrangements.”
Rhayn did not take her dagger from the sorceress’s throat. “And you won’t change your mind just because Faenaeyon’s your father?”
“How do you know that?” Sadira asked.
Rhayn looked at Magnus, who wagged his large ears back and forth. “The same way we know why you’re so keen to go to the Pristine Tower,” the windsinger said. “You’ll do as Rhayn asks?”
“Faenaeyon’s blood may run in my veins, but he’s no father to me,” Sadira said. “I’ll help you-if Dhojakt doesn’t kill us first.”