Teressa whirled around, no longer trying to be polite. “That’s not funny,” she said.
“Sure it is.” Hawk gave a soft laugh.
“We’re making all kinds of ridiculous demands,” Garian said, gesturing airily. “They’ll have to meet them, or else!”
“Or else what?” Teressa asked, fury roaring to white heat. Just wait until my parents hear of your joke, and you’ll find out how funny it is, she was thinking, but she wasn’t ready to say it yet. One thing she’d learned while Andreas of Senna Lirwan’s prisoner was to keep certain kinds of comments to herself until she was sure of the consequences.
And right now, the person she wasn’t sure about was that Hawk.
“Or else they’ll lose,” Garian said with a shrug. “What else? Although Mirlee will manage to make it into a feud somehow, you just watch. She’s the worst loser ever born.” He turned to Hawk. “We’ll need a good hideout. You were supposed to see to that.”
“I have,” Hawk said as they reached a road, then crossed over it.
“But this is the border of the King’s Park,” Perd pointed out, looking around. “Didn’t we set the boundaries at the border?”
“I never did,” Hawk said as they passed among the trees in the woodland beyond the park. “And the best hideout is one that nobody can find. Why don’t you three go back and make certain they’re decoyed?”
“Plenty of time for that after we see where your hideaway is,” Garian said.
“And you can sit in it alone,” Teressa said, now that she was sure where the danger lay. It was never Garian. It was Hawk all along. “You should have asked me first. I’m not going to be your hostage, and I’m staying in the park.” She thrust past Perd and started back toward the road.
Hawk caught up in two swift strides, and he took her arm in a firm grip. “Too late,” he said.
Teressa tried to pull away, and when he did not let go she jerked her arm. Hawk just held on, and she nearly lost her balance.
Garian’s sharp face lifted. “Look, Hawk, you don’t need to be rough.”
“She’s not cooperating,” Hawk said, smiling.
Teressa winced at the steely grip on her arm. “Let me go,” she demanded, looking around somewhat desperately. Where’s Aunt Leila? Is she watching in that magic stone of hers? “Let me go. Now.”
“All right,” Hawk said.
He freed her so suddenly that she staggered back and sat down hard on the grass.
“Time for your lot to decoy the others, Rhismordith,” Hawk said.
Garian crossed his arms. “I thought it was my game,” he said. “At least we can share the command. And I’ll take charge of my cousin.”
“I’m taking over now,” Hawk said. “And she’s my hostage.”
Garian looked nonplussed, and Perd gaped. Marit reddened with anger.
Teressa glanced around, but her aunt was nowhere in sight. I’m going to have to look out for myself, she thought as she got to her feet. She started walking in the opposite direction.
“Don’t run off,” Hawk said over his shoulder. “I need you right here.”
“Go ahead and need,” Teressa snapped, rubbing her arm. She increased her pace, listening for steps in the grass.
They came, at a run. Teressa also started running, grabbing her skirts in bunches at either side.
“Wait—Hawk—this isn’t funny,” Garian called on a note that was partly warning and partly whine.
“Yes, it is,” Hawk said. “And it’s getting funnier all the time.”
He caught up with Teressa and yanked her right off her feet. She hit the ground hard, rolling into a patch of mud. Her head crunched against a tree root, sending stars shooting across her vision.
Garian stopped. “What did you do with my note?” he demanded.
“It’s sitting on Verne Rhisadel’s desk.” Hawk gave a cold laugh. “And he and his fools will be along soon, looking for your blood, so I suggest you cut along and hide.”
Garian’s face went crimson. “You betrayed me!”
“Right,” Hawk said. “And you certainly made it easy.”
“Stop him!” Garian yelled at his friends.
Teressa, looking up dizzily, saw Hawk almost lazily swing an arm and hit Perd across the face. The boy spun around and dropped, letting out a surprised howl. Then Hawk pulled his sword free.
Garian squawked something, yanking out his jeweled rapier.
Hawk laughed. “Funnier all the time,” he repeated, striking Garian’s rapier hard and causing the blade to bend. Garian staggered, raising his point in time to take another smashing blow. This time he lost his grip completely, the rapier falling to the grass.
Hawk lifted his blade and turned to Marit, who’d also pulled his sword. As Marit studied him doubtfully, Hawk ripped his blade under Marit’s guard and stabbed the boy hard right in the shoulder.
Garian got to his feet and rushed Hawk, yelling crazily. Stepping aside, Hawk used the hilt to club Garian hard across the back of his head. Garian fell down and lay still.
Despite her dizziness, Teressa got to her feet and once again began to run. Behind her Perd gave a short exclamation, then she heard the crack of a fist, and then the pounding of fast footsteps.
“Now it’s time for us to go,” Hawk said to Teressa, closing his hand around her arm.
He started muttering softly. Alarm burned through her when she realized he was performing a magic spell. It’s Hawk. He’s the sorcerer!
She pretended to trip, and tore loose from his grasp. She landed on the grass, her fingers burrowing under her skirt for her boot. There was her little knife.
“Let’s try that again,” he said, breaking off his spell and reaching for her.
She whipped the blade out and slashed it across his hand. Hawk gave a short exclamation and sprang back. Laughing in surprise, he studied her appraisingly as he pulled out his handkerchief and bound it around his bleeding hand.
“You’re not as boring as I thought, cousin,” he said, grinning. “You really ought to stay away from those court fools. They make you about as interesting as a wooden shoe.”
Teressa got to her feet, her knife ready. “I know my cousins, and much as I dislike some of them, at least I can say that you’re not one of them.”
“We are distant cousins.” Hawk bowed with mocking grace. “My full name is Hawk Rhiscarlan. I’m just about to take possession of my lands, now that your father has his cursed Scarlet Guard up here chasing phantoms. And you’re coming with me as my bargaining counter.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Teressa said between shut teeth. “And you’re twice the fool if you think my father will believe that stuff about Garian and ransoms for more than half a day.”
“But it will keep them busy—and it should also cause an almighty rift when our Rhismordith cousins have to live down the fact that Garian was my dupe.”
“So you were the one causing all those problems. What a filthy thing to do!” Teressa exclaimed.
“It was just as filthy when my home was torched and my family killed off. All except my cousin Idres—wherever she is.”
“Idres!” Teressa exclaimed.
Hawk’s eyes narrowed. “You know her. How? Where?” Teressa remembered the silent, black-haired woman who had helped with her rescue the year before. The magicians had been ambivalent about Idres, who was a very powerful magician but allied with no one, and her part in the adventure had been little spoken of. Now Teressa just shrugged. “I won’t tell you,” she said rudely, enjoying the flush of color that ridged Hawk’s bony cheeks.
“I will find out,” he said. “And I’ll have fun doing it, too.”
“You’re wasting your breath with those stupid threats.”
She backed slowly, brandishing her knife. Keep him talking until I figure out what to do. “Anyway, it wasn’t us who burned the Rhiscarlan Fortress, it was one of your own relatives—aided secretly by Andreus of Senna Lirwan.”
Hawk shrugged. “Perhaps. But it was your father who was about to give away my lands to the Rhismordiths and their toadies.” He stepped toward her, still keeping just out of reach. “Drop the blade,” he warned. “I don’t want to hurt you—”
“Well, I will be quite happy to hurt you again if you touch me,” Teressa said, watching him warily.
Hawk held his empty hands a little way from his sides, one showing red through the white handkerchief. His dark eyes narrowed as he took one step toward her, then another.
“The idea is to use you to keep your father at a distance while I consolidate my holdings,” Hawk said. “And then you’re free to do what you wish.”
“You’re free to leave right now,” Teressa said. “But I’m not going with you.”
“Don’t you want to know the fate of your doggy magician friend?” Hawk taunted.
“Tyron?” Teressa exclaimed, almost stumbling.
Hawk smiled nastily at her reaction. “He’s going to Andreus, who has a taste for revenge. See—I don’t trust Andreus any more than I do your father and his collection of fools here in Cantirmoor.”
“You plan to send Tyron to Andreus?” Teressa asked, backing up a step. Keep him talking . . . keep him talking. “That’s disgusting. He never did anything to you, or to your family.”
Hawk shrugged. “I have to keep Andreus busy while I strengthen my position,” he said blandly, as though his plans were completely reasonable. “Also it serves as a kind of warning to him.” He smiled again. “I wish I’d managed to catch the other two, but one person can only do so much—” He reached suddenly.
Teressa swept her blade in a fast arc.
Hawk faded back—then he lunged, bringing his hand down hard across her wrist.
Giving a sharp cry, she dropped the knife.
“Now we’ll—”
“Now you’ll let her go,” a new voice said.
Hawk whirled around, staring in surprise at the three figures who came slowly toward them, the short and tall outside ones supporting the fox-faced one in the middle.
“Wren!” Teressa cried in relief. “Connor—Tyron!”
o0o
Wren gasped as Hawk pointed at Teressa, causing magic to glow around her. Teressa sank slowly onto the grass.
“He’s put a weight spell on her,” Tyron muttered, trying to straighten up. “It can’t last. Keep him busy so he can’t transport with her.”
Tyron looked awfully pale, but his hands were steady, glowing with a greenish light that shot across the grassy sward toward Hawk.
“No you don’t.” Hawk said, raising his hand.
He uttered a short phrase. The greenish light glittered, then disappeared. “My other three targets. How convenient.” He began weaving a spell.
Wren could feel power building, like a cold wind drawing lightning-charged air toward Hawk. Terrified, she knew she couldn’t counter it, but Tyron was still blinking away the backwash from his last spell. He wasn’t strong enough to fight magic with magic. She tried to think—but all her basic spells seemed to scatter like mice.
Connor jerked the staff from Tyron’s weak fingers and ran straight at Hawk.
The dark-haired magician broke off his spell and whipped out his sword, grinning as the weapons met with a loud crack.
Wren caught desperately at Tyron, who swayed unsteadily.
“Can’t—breathe,” Tyron whispered, blinking hard. He made a blind swipe in the air with one hand, fingers curled like a paw.
Wren switched her gaze him to the fighters.
Connor was good with the staff, but Hawk seemed equally adept with his sword. They seemed evenly matched, enough that Hawk couldn’t get a spell started. But why w3as Connor whistling?
What can I do? Wren thought, trying to ignore Connor’s whistles. Oh! she thought. That’s what Connor’s doing—he’s making it hard to concentrate.
“So you are the fungus-faced slimecrawler who ruined my Basics Test?” Wren yelled at Hawk, adding her own confusion.
Hawk laughed, throwing her a fast glance, then he swung the sword at Connor in a deadly arc. “You’re good, prentice,” he called to her. “Your magic shows promise and you and Lackland gave my hirelings a fine run. Too bad I was too busy here to come after you myself. We would have seen some sport. But I think Andreus will enjoy you when he does catch up with you.”
“He’d better get running,” Wren said. “Because it’s going to take three lifetimes to find us. As for you—Halfrid will be here in a moment. We summoned him.” She held up her scry-stone. It winked in the sunlight.
Once again Hawk sent her a fast glance, his eyes narrowed. “He can’t. I ruined his transport setup.”
“And he fixed it, but he didn’t let on,” Wren crowed. Next to her, Tyron took in a deep, shuddering breath and started muttering. He clapped his hands, and weak light streamed out.
Hawk whirled his sword toward Connor, who raised his staff. Steel bit into wood, sending up a thin wisp of smoke. Then Hawk threw one hand up and gasped out a word. Tyron’s glow dove into the ground.
“You’ll have to do better . . . than that,” he called, but he was panting as Connor grimly pressed to the attack. Hawk started muttering in a low voice, his eyes narrowed as he concentrated on Connor.
Tyron started yet another spell, but Hawk finished his first. Tyron threw up a hand and croaked out a single word to deflect it. Wren felt a weird scraping along her bones, and a low hum filled the air, then faded.
“Here comes Halfrid, mold-mouth!” Wren shrieked, but this time Hawk ignored her.
What can I do? What can I do? Wren yanked off her sash with one hand, bent to pick up a good stone. Slinging it at Hawk, she watched in dismay when he saw it, broke off his spell, and ducked, then whirled to cut another chunk from Connor’s staff.
Connor pressed on, still whistling.
Hawk began yet another spell. But before he got far, the trees rustled all around them. Then a hundred birds exploded out from the leaves, cawing and cheeping and screeching, just as a final sword’s blow shattered the wood in Connor’s hands.
Connor backed away and pointed, and winged shapes descended upon Hawk in a spiraling storm. Hawk jerked his head up, striking out at the closest birds with the sword and his fist.
Teressa stirred weakly on the ground. Wren ran across the grass and pulled her to her feet.
“Stop—” Hawk commanded, starting toward them.
Wren kicked out at his legs. “Stop yourself, rot-nose—” A huge bird shrieked right near Hawk’s head, forcing him to duck from the extended claws. More birds dropped down, trying to peck his head.
He jerked back, waving uselessly at them. Wren and Teressa retreated behind a tree, then with it as a shield, started toward the boys.
“Good work, Wren,” Connor said when the two girls reached him.
For a moment they stood thus, the four ranged together before Hawk. “Spell,” Tyron whispered. “Help me . . . keep him busy . . . “
“Oh—here they are!”
Garian shouted as he came at a clumsy run, one hand clenching his sword and the other pressed against the side of his head. Some distance behind him stumbled Marit, clutching his shoulder, and Perd, with a swelling jaw.
“Just a moment longer,” Tyron murmured, his eyes closed. His shaking hands made a gesture as he intoned a long phrase. Light started to glow in front of him, rapidly gaining power.
Hawk’s gaze shifted from Tyron to Garian and then back at the four. He grinned. “The comedy is about to become a farce,” he called. “I’ll leave you to it.” He saluted them with his sword, muttering softly.
Then he vanished, leaving the grass waving in a ruffle of wind. The birds shrieked and whistled in alarm, and departed with a great beating of wings.
Garian lurched to a stop and stood gaping. “Lackland?” he said weakly. “How’d you get here?”
Connor’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing.
Wren felt Teressa tug at her hand. Wren let go, and Teressa stalked toward her cousin.
Despite the mud and grass stains that had ruined her gown and covered her face and arms, Teressa looked very much like a princess right now. An angry princess.
“Shut up, Garian,” she said, not in her usual soft, careful voice, but loud and angry and shrill. “Just shut up. If I ever hear you say that again, I’ll tell everyone just what a dupe you’ve been. And I’ll call you Lackwit.”
Connor blinked at Teressa, his face turning a fiery red.
Teressa smiled tentatively at him, then she too blushed.
Connor walked over to Garian and handed him a crumpled paper.
“What’s—” Garian looked down at it and gulped.
“We’ll say nothing if you don’t,” Connor said. Then he turned to his friends. “Let’s go.”
Wren chortled, once again holding tightly to Teressa’s hand. “I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry, and Tyron, you better get a bath before our noses fall off. Whew, you stink!”