The Demon King. Cinda Williams Chima

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СКАЧАТЬ nodding toward the valley below. “Come on. Let’s go. We’ll miss the hunt.”

      “Hold on, Miphis.” Bayar stared down at Dancer, black eyes glittering in his pale face. “Aren’t you called Hayden?” he inquired in Common, using Dancer’s Vale name. “It’s just…Hayden, isn’t it? A mongrel name, since you have no father.”

      Dancer stiffened. “That is my Vale name,” he said, lifting his chin defiantly. “My real name is Fire Dancer.”

      “Hayden is a wizard’s name,” Bayar said, fingering the amulet around his neck. “How dare you presume—”

      “I presume nothing,” Dancer said. “I didn’t choose it. I am clan. Why would I choose a jinxflinger name?”

      Good question, Han thought, looking from one to the other. Some among the clans used flatland names in the Vale. But why would a jinxflinger like Micah Bayar know Dancer’s Vale name?

      Bayar flushed red, and it took him a moment to muster a response. “So you claim, Hayden,” Bayar drawled. “Maybe you fathered yourself. Which means you and your mother—”

      Dancer’s arm flashed up, but Han just managed to slam it aside as the knife left his hand, and it ended, quivering, in the trunk of a tree.

      Come on, Dancer, Han thought, hunching his shoulders against his friend’s furious glare. Killing a wizard friend of the queen would buy them a world of trouble.

      The charmcaster Bayar sat frozen a moment, as if he couldn’t believe what had just happened. Then his face went white with anger. He extended one imperious hand toward Dancer, took hold of his amulet with the other, and began muttering a charm in the language of magic, stumbling over the words a bit.

      “Micah,” the more slender fellscat wizard said, nudging his horse up close. “No. It’s not worth it. The fire was one thing. If they find out we—”

      “Shut up, Arkeda,” Bayar replied. “I’m going to teach this base-born copperhead respect.” Looking put out that he was forced to start over, he began the charm again.

      Try and be a peacemaker and see where it gets you, Han thought. He unslung his bow and nocked an arrow, aiming at Bayar’s chest. “Hey, Micah,” he said. “How about this? Shut it or I shoot.”

      Bayar squinted at Han, as if once again surprised to see him. Perhaps realizing he would, indeed, be dead before he could finish the hex, the wizard released his grip on the amulet and raised his hands.

      At the sight of Han’s bow, Miphis and Arkeda pawed at the hilts of their swords. But Dancer nocked his own arrow, and the boys let go and raised their hands as well.

      “Smart move,” Han said, nodding. “I’m guessing jinxes are slower than arrows.”

      “You tried to murder me,” Bayar said to Dancer, as if amazed that such a thing could happen. “Do you realize who I am? My father is High Wizard, counselor to the queen. When he finds out what you did…”

      “Why don’t you run back to Gray Lady and tell him all about it?” Dancer said, jerking his head toward the downslope trail. “Go on. You don’t belong here. Get off the mountain. Now.”

      Bayar didn’t want to back off with his two friends as witnesses. “Just remember,” he said softly, fingering his amulet, “it’s a long way down the mountain. Anything can happen along the way.”

      Bones, Han thought. He’d been ambushed too many times in the streets and alleyways of Fellsmarch. He knew enough about bullies to recognize the trait in Bayar. This boy would hurt them if he could, and he wouldn’t play fair doing it.

      Keeping his bowstring tight, Han pointed his chin at the wizard. “You. Take off your jinxpiece,” he ordered. “Throw it down on the ground.”

      “This?” Bayar touched the evil-looking jewel that hung around his neck. When Han nodded, the boy shook his head. “You can’t be serious,” he snarled, closing his fist around it. “Do you know what this is?”

      “I have an idea,” Han said. He gestured with the bow. “Take it off and throw it down.”

      Bayar sat frozen, his face going pale. “You can’t use this, you know,” he said, looking from Han to Dancer. “If you even touch it, you’ll be incinerated.”

      “We’ll take our chances,” Dancer said, glancing over at Han.

      The charmcaster’s eyes narrowed. “You’re nothing more than thieves, then,” he sneered. “I should have known.”

      “Use your head,” Han said. “What would I do with truck like that? I just don’t want to have to be looking over my shoulder all the way home.”

      Arkeda leaned in toward Bayar and muttered in Valespeech, “Better give it to him. You know what they say about the copperheads. They’ll cut your throat and drink your blood and feed you to their wolves so no one will ever find your bones.”

      Miphis nodded vigorously. “Or they’ll use us in rituals. They’ll burn us alive. Sacrifice us to their goddesses.”

      Han clenched his jaw, struggling to keep the surprise and amusement off his face. It seemed the jinxflingers had their own reasons to fear the clan.

      “I can’t give it to them, you idiot,” Bayar hissed. “You know why. If my father finds out I took it, we’ll all be punished.”

      “I told you not to take it,” Arkeda muttered. “I told you it was a bad idea. Just because you want to impress Princess Raisa…”

      “You know I wouldn’t have taken it if we were allowed to have our own,” Bayar said. “It was the only one I…What are you looking at?” he demanded, noticing Han and Dancer’s interest in the conversation and maybe realizing for the first time that they understood the flatlander language.

      “I’m looking at someone who’s already in trouble and getting in deeper,” Han said. “Now, drop the amulet.”

      Bayar glared at Han as if actually seeing him for the first time. “You’re not even clan. Who are you?”

      Han knew better than to hand his name to an enemy. “They call me Shiv,” he said, fishing a name out of memory. “Streetlord of Southbridge.”

      “Shiv, you say.” The wizard tried to stare him down, but his gaze kept sliding away. “It’s strange. There’s something…You seem…” His voice trailed off as if he’d lost track of the thought.

      Han sighted down the shaft of his arrow, feeling sweat trickling down between his shoulder blades. If Bayar wouldn’t give, he’d have to figure out what to do next. Just then, he had no clue. “I’ll count to five,” he said, hanging on to his street face. “Then I put an arrow through your neck. One.”

      With a quick, vicious movement, Bayar yanked the chain over his head and tossed the amulet onto the ground. It clanked softly as it landed.

      “Just try to pick it up,” the charmcaster said, leaning forward in his saddle. “I dare you.”

      Han looked from Bayar to the jinxpiece, СКАЧАТЬ