“But you couldn’t kill the boy you stole.”
I could see the muscles of his jaw working.
“He’s worth more to me captive and alive,” he said.
“Define worth,” said a torch.
“Ask a philosopher,” he said.
“What has worth?” One with a spear. “The boy or the ship?”
The boy, I knew his answer would be. This, the one thing I knew about him.
“The ship,” he said. “She is worth more than a thousand princes.”
I was stunned. Maybe I didn’t have the bones for this game after all.
“Prove your worth,” said a spear, and before I could shout, she flung it at him. He didn’t flinch, and it flew right through him and through the seamage standing behind him. Without a mark, without a trace, like it wasn’t there. The seamage looked about to faint.
“You are a fool, Priestlord,” said a spear. “Thinking we believe any word that comes from your lips.”
“You love the boy you stole,” said a tong. “And in doing so, you have killed him.”
“Which is why you are here,” said the flail. “You must trade his life with your own. Defend!”
And she spun it savagely in the air, swinging it in a downward arc, slicing him from shoulder to hip.
Except it didn’t. Nothing. Not a trace.
Your illusions fool only the innocent.
One of the torchbearers stepped forward, tip of the stave wrapped and dancing with flame.
“I am here to collect what I am due,” said Thanavar. “You tried me once, and you failed. Be grateful you have a second audience with a Priestlord.”
The torch came close to his face, closer. I swore I could see his skin pucker.
He caught the mage’s wrist, and suddenly, the torch becamea dagger, gleaming and sharp. The mage withdrew, and my gut twisted. It was an illusion but lethal still, unlike the spear or the flail. But the cats? The creatures? Were only some and not the others? How would one know?
The captain stepped back now.
“The Court of Sand has a choice,” he said. “The boy, the ship, or me. So, tell me—what do you value, you vile band who barter in loss and stolen dreams? What doyouwant?”
They flowed together to form a line.
The one with the second iron tong raised it, inclined it in my direction. My blood froze.
“This one,” she said. “We want this one.”
Her voice. There was something about her voice.
Thanavar frowned, glanced over his shoulder at me.
“Because of the chimeric?”
“The chimeric is a blessed bonus,” she said. “But no.”
The intonation, the music, the threat.
