“I could have Goel torture the information out of you,” he said. “He would enjoy that. But that’s rather messy and time-consuming. And I always consider facts divulged under stress to be suspect.”
The horseman rose from his chair, and walked around the table, coming closer to me. He clutched his sword in his right hand, trying to be intimidating. He was about seven inches taller than me and he had tucked his dark gray pants into knee-high black leather riding boots.
“You’re the one in for a surprise, because I’m going to bring you to the Magician’s Keep where First Magician will peel your mind like a banana, exposing the soft center where all the answers lie. Your brain gets a little mashed in the process—” he shrugged his shoulders as if unconcerned about this detail “—but the information is always accurate.”
Real fear brushed my skin for the first time since I had awakened a prisoner. Perhaps I’d made a mistake in playing the spy. “I don’t suppose you would believe me if I said I didn’t have what you wanted?”
The horseman shook his head. “The proof of your loyalties is in your backpack. Ixian coins and your northern uniform.”
“Which really proves I’m not a spy, because Valek would never recruit someone stupid enough to carry her uniform on a mission,” I said in frustration, but regretted having mentioned Valek’s name. A “she-just-gave-herself-away” look flashed between the horseman and Leif.
I tried to stall for time. “Who are you and why do you want this information?”
“I’m King Cahil Ixia. And I want my throne.”
6
KING OF IXIA? THIS young idiot was claiming to be a king?
“The King of Ixia is dead,” I said.
“I’m well aware that your boss, Valek, murdered the King and all his family when Commander Ambrose took control of Ixia. But he made what will soon prove to be a fatal mistake.” Cahil jabbed his sword into the air. “He didn’t count the bodies, and the King’s six-year-old nephew was smuggled to the south. I’m the heir to the Ixian throne and I plan to claim it.”
“You’ll need more men,” I said.
“How many more?” he asked with considerable interest.
“More than twelve.” My best guess of the number of men in the camp.
He laughed. “Don’t worry. The Commander’s military and corps of assassins are enough of a threat to Sitia to provide me with plenty of followers. Besides—” he thought for a moment “—once I deliver you to the Citadel, and show them that I’ve uncovered a dangerous spy, they’ll have no choice but to support my campaign against Ambrose. I’ll have the whole Sitian army at my command.”
He failed to impress me. Instead, he reminded me of a boy playing with toy soldiers. I did a quick mental calculation. Cahil was a year older than me, making him twenty-one.
“So you’re taking me to the Citadel?” I asked.
He nodded. “There, First Magician will reap the information from your mind.” He smiled as a greedy glint sparked in his eyes.
Somehow, I had missed the connection of the Magician and the Citadel the first time Cahil had mentioned it. The reference to them mashing my brains must have thrown me off.
“I’m going to the Citadel anyway. Why all the trouble?” I unfolded my arms, showing the manacles.
“You are masquerading as a student. Unfortunately, the Magicians take their Ethical Code very serious, and won’t interrogate you unless you’re caught doing something illegal. Without my intervention, they would have invited you in, and taught you all the secrets of Sitia.”
So I was to be his proof. He wanted to show them that he had saved the Sitians from a menacing criminal. “Okay. I’ll go with you to the Citadel.” I offered my wrists. “Remove these, and I won’t give you any trouble.”
“And what’s to stop you from running off?” he asked. There was a hitch of disbelief in his voice.
“My word.”
“Your word means nothing,” Leif said.
His first verbalization of the night, and I felt a strong urge to quiet him with my fist. I stared at him, beaming the promise of a future confrontation.
Cahil appeared unconvinced.
“How about the twelve men you have guarding me?” I asked.
“No. You’re my prisoner. You should be dressed as such.” Cahil waved his hand, and the two guards by the tent’s entrance grabbed my arms.
Meeting over. I was dragged from the tent and dumped by the fire, where Goel resumed his hawklike guard. Cahil had left me no choice. I would not arrive at the Citadel as his prize.
I lay there, watching and listening to the men as a simple plan formed in my mind. When the camp settled in for the night, two men relieved Goel. I feigned sleep, waiting until the second shift of men had enough time to grow bored.
Magic was the only weapon I had left; yet I was uncertain of my strength and abilities. What I planned to do could be considered a direct violation of the Magicians’ Ethical Code, but, at this point, I didn’t care. I would have preferred to fight, but I was out of options and time.
Breathing deep, I tried to project my awareness out. Without the aid of my bow, I failed miserably. I couldn’t focus. Not wanting to risk any big movements, I rubbed my thumbs along my fingertips. The skin contact helped to center my mind until I could push it away from me.
I had hoped my guards would be drowsy, but one whistled under his breath and the other reviewed military tactics in his head, although I could feel the desire for sleep pulling at their minds.
I used that desire. I gave a mental command to sleep, and crossed my fingers. My knowledge of magic was very limited; I had no idea if it would work. At first, resistance pushed back. I tried again. Soon, the two men sank to the ground, but still remained awake. I had wanted to be subtle, but the night was running out. Sleep, I ordered with force, and they fell over.
The chains clanked when I sat up. Pressing them to my beating chest, I scanned the slumbering men. I had forgotten about the noise. Since I could only use one hand and my mouth, picking the manacles’ locks would be difficult and loud, so I revised my plan. Perhaps I could send all the men into a deep sleep where noise would not rouse them.
I projected my awareness, touching each man’s mind, putting them into a heavy, dreamless slumber. Cahil slept on a cot in the tent. While I would have enjoyed rifling through his mind, I settled for sending him into an unconscious state. Leif’s magical protection prevented me from affecting him. I hoped he was a heavy sleeper.
Working with my diamond pick in one hand and with the tension wrench between my teeth, I managed to pop the locks on my wrist manacles after a fifth attempt. The sky began to brighten a shade. My time was slipping away. I crept into the tent to retrieve my backpack, stuffing my belongings into it. I made more noise then I wanted, but my instincts told me that full dawn would waken the men. As I fled, I grabbed my bow from beside the guard who had claimed it.
Running through the forest, I noticed that the darkness faded with every stride. My thoughts turned sluggish, and I huffed for breath as weakness pulled at my legs. Using magic on the men had drained my energy.
I scanned the treetops, looking for a big leaf variety with lots of branches. Spotting a tree with potential, I halted and took my grapple and rope from my backpack.
By the time I managed to hook a branch, my arms felt like rubber. I had to smile at the irony of my situation, though, as I pulled myself up the rope. This