This time, he did it right: He blocked his opponent's imaginary dagger with his sword arm, switching grips on the imaginary bowie and bringing it almost straight up.

If there had been a real opponent, Jason would have opened his side from hip to ribcage.

Out of the corner of his eye, Jason saw Fenrius and the other guard change positions slightly. In his mock swordfight, Jason had edged a bit closer to Ahrmin, and the slaver's guards had moved to block any possible attack.

They couldn't suspect him, could they? No, he decided, not specifically; they were just being careful on general principles.

Jason raised his sword in a casual salute to Ahrmin. You're a dead man. Not now, it seems, but soon.

"Quite nice," Ahrmin said, nodding in response to Jason's salute. "Quite nice indeed. You move smoothly; I'll be interested to see how you do with a gun." He looked over at Fenrius. "Which ship should we put him on?"

The big man turned toward Jason, like a cannon being rotated on its wheels. "We will be taking two ships. Master Ahrmin will be on the Flail; most of the inexperienced gunners and instructors will be on the Scourge. Which would you prefer?"

Well, there clearly was one wrong answer. Jason shrugged. "It sounds like the Scourge would make more sense, for training purposes. But you haven't told me the important information."

"Which is?" Fenrius raised an eyebrow.

"Which one has the better food?"

Ahrmin laughed thinly. "My ship. But we'll put you on the other. You're a clever man, Taren, and I don't like having clever men too near me." He waved a dismissal. "We sail at sunrise tomorrow. That is all."

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO:.

Return to Pandathaway.

Every once in a while, I wake up and realize where I am and what I'm doing, and then it occurs to me: Stash and Emma Slovotsky's baby boy is an a.s.shole.

a"Walter Slovotsky.

Walter Slovotsky had wanted to stay in the Inn of Quiet Repose, but Ahira had overruled him: granted, they hadn't been in Pandathaway for years, but Tommallo might recognize them.

Still, they would have to make up their minds and make their arrangements soon; it was late afternoon, and the sun sat only about ten degrees above the horizon.

He stretched his arms as he sat on the pa.s.senger's side of the flatbed wagon, then continued the motion to grab the muslin sack of jerky behind the bench seat. After serving himself, he offered the bag around; everyone else declined, except for Tennetty.

"Still think it'd be worth a try."

It had been years and years since they'd first come through Pandathaway, but Walter could still remember the meal they'd had in the inn. Wonderful, wonderful food.

"We'll try another inn," the dwarf said, bouncing up and down on the back of his pony. "Nearer the docks. We'll want to sell our cargo, as long as we're here. But I don't want to take any chances on being made. Understood?"

Bren Adahan twitched his reins. "What's the difference? There's no price on your head."

"Not specifically," the dwarf admitted. "But the Slavers' Guild still has a reward out for Home warriors. I think we qualify, so we'll keep a low profile."

"Right," Tennetty said, sitting next to him, as she drove their flatbed wagon. She flicked the switch at the left drayhorse; the animal lowered its head and slogged on. "That's my vote."

Walter had to repress a chuckle at the way she kept a lock of hair in front of the right side of her face, concealing her gla.s.s eye; she looked sort of like Veronica Lake.

A wiry, scarred, completely unpretty Veronica Lake, who could as easily slit your throat as look at you.

Her level look at him said it all: I don't like you much, either.

"I didn't think it was a voting matter," Aeia said, with a sly smile. "Isn't this supposed to be a led party?"

"Shut up," Walter explained, returning her smile with interest.

Things had settled down to a relatively stable set of relationships. Whatever Aeia had said to Bren Adahan while Walter had been off in Holtun-Bieme was working: As long as Walter didn't rub Adahan's nose in what he and Aeia were doing, Adahan seemed resolved to ignore it.

Bren Adahan's brow wrinkled for a moment; his face brightened. "Let me make the arrangements for housing; I have an idea."

Ahira nodded, bouncing up and down on the back of his pony. "Sure. Meet us in Dolphin Plaza. It's down by the docks."

"If you can't meet us there, try at the steps of the Great Library," Walter put in. It wasn't impossible that that place had been torn down or something; best to allow for an alternative.

Adahan spurred his horse. Aeia, after a glance toward and a nod from the dwarf, went after him. Walter Slovotsky approved; she made a good brake on Adahan. Or anyone else, for that matter.

Tennetty chuckled ruefully. "Like a couple of puppies, them two." She eyed Walter speculatively. "She any good?"

"None of your business."

"Hey, Walter, ta havath." Tennetty shrugged. "I like them young, too."

"Boys or girls?" he asked, then immediately regretted it as her face clouded over. But he couldn't resist adding, "Careful, careful, Tennettya"you're in disguise, remember. Slitting the throat of a robust fellow like myself might draw some attention."

"I won't always be in disguise."

"Enough, the two of you," the dwarf said, shaking his head. Then: "d.a.m.n you, ease up," as his gray gelding half-reared, spooked by a something small and furry that scampered across the filthy street.

"Fine," Tennetty whispered. "We'll settle up for this some other time. When I clear it with Karl."

"If."

"When."

Walter didn't understand Tennetty. As devoted as she was to Karl Cullinane, the notion of the big man riding into the jaws of a trap didn't bother her. It was as though Karl was a force of nature, not merely a very tough man.

The dwarf squinted at a broadside, pasted against the building ahead. "Does thata"s.h.i.t."

Great Risk Great Pay

Are You a Swordsman or Bowman with Great Skill

and Greater Ambition?

AHRMIN, Master Slaver

is hiring WARRIORS

for an expedition past Faerie.

Apply immediately at the Slavers' Guildhall.

TRAINING in the ART of GUNNERY will be

provided.

A Cook, Armorer, Cobbler, and Smith are also needed.

Great Pay Great Risk

Walter vaulted from the wagon and studied the paper for a long moment. Too fast, this was all happening too d.a.m.n fast. There must have been some spies in Holtun-Bieme, spies ready to drop their cover and gallop away. Probably even some sort of pony-express-style relay; otherwise the news couldn't have gotten here so quickly.

A tall man, wearing the steel helmet and the center-ridged breastplate of Pandathaway's police force, walked up to where Walter and the dwarf stood.

"Interested?"

It took Walter a millisecond to slip into character: "Of course I am," he said, hitching at his swordbelt.

"You're too late," the guardsman said. "They left two days ago. Are you any good with that sword?"

Walter drew himself up straight. "Sir, I am Warrel of h.o.r.elt village. The Warrel of h.o.r.elt village."

The guard shruggeda""Never heard of you"a"and walked away.

As soon as the soldier was out of sight, Ahira threw back his head and laughed. "The Warrel of h.o.r.elt village?" Ahira asked. "Really? Not the Warrel of h.o.r.elt village?"

Even Tennetty grinned. "And I thought you were just a useless piece of meat."

Walter Slovotsky shrugged. "Well, now that he's put me down, he's going to forget about me: I'm just some local champion who's come to Pandathaway to show off."

Tennetty nodded. "Clever. Very clever. What do we do now?"

This screwed things up profoundly. They could switch gears and go searching for Jason, but the Home searchers could handle that.

The important point was that any chance of delaying or sabotaging the slaver hunters was gone with Ahrmin and his hunters. Unless, of course, they gave chase.

Walter shrugged. "Guess we've got to find a fast ship that's heading for Melawei."