my headache gone, and my body somewhat revived from the food, I contemplated my situation. My biggest question was why had Leif and I been captured, and by whom. Goel still hovered nearby so I asked him.
He backhanded me across my face. “No talking,” he ordered.
My cheek stung as unbidden tears welled. I hated this Goel.
I spent the next hours in silence, using the time to search for a way to escape. My backpack wasn’t anywhere in sight, but, across the fire, a heavyset man tried to spar another guard with my bow. Sweating with profusion, the big man inexpertly hacked at the other’s practice sword and was beaten with ease.
After watching the bout, I decided that these men had to be soldiers even though they wore plain homespun civilian clothes. Their ages ranged from mid-twenties to late-forties, maybe even fifty. Mercenaries, perhaps? Captain Marrok’s command of these men was obvious.
So why had they attacked us? If they needed money, they could have taken what they wanted and been on their way. If they were killers, I would be dead by now. That left kidnapping. For a ransom? Or for something worse?
A shudder shook my shoulders when I thought of my parents receiving word that I had disappeared again and I promised myself that I wouldn’t let it go that far. Somehow, I would escape, but I knew it wouldn’t be under Goel’s zealous watch.
I rubbed my neck. My hand came away sticky with blood. Exploring with my fingertips, I found a deep gash at the base of my skull and a smaller cut above my left temple. I tapped my bun and moved my hand away with what I hoped was a casual motion. My lock picks were still holding up some of my hair, and I prayed Goel didn’t see them.
A possible means of escape was within reach. I just needed some time unguarded. Unfortunately, it didn’t look like that would happen any time soon; two men came out of the tent and headed straight toward me.
“He wants to see her,” one man said as they hauled me to my feet.
They dragged me toward the tent. Goel followed. I was pulled inside and dumped on the floor. When my eyes adjusted to the dim candlelight, I saw the young horseman sitting at a canvas table. Leif, unchained and unharmed, sat beside him. My backpack was on the table, and my possessions had been spread out.
With effort, I stood. “Friends of yours?” I asked Leif.
Something hard connected with the side of my head, slamming me back to the ground. Leif half rose from his seat, but settled when the horseman touched his sleeve.
“That was unnecessary, Goel,” the horseman said. “Wait outside.”
“She spoke without permission.”
“If she fails to show the proper respect, you may teach her some manners. Now go,” ordered the horseman.
I struggled to my feet again. Goel left, but the other two guards remained by the door. By now my patience was gone. If I were quick enough, I might be able to wrap the foot of chain hanging between my wrists around the horseman’s neck.
As I was gauging the distance, the horseman said, “I wouldn’t try anything stupid.” He lifted a long, broad sword from his lap.
“Who the hell are you and what do you want?” I demanded.
“Watch your language or I’ll call Goel back,” he replied with a smile.
“Go ahead, call him back. Take my manacles off and let us have a fair fight.” When he didn’t reply, I added, “Guess you’re afraid I’d win. Typical ambusher mentality.”
He looked at Leif in amazement. Leif stared back with concern, and I wondered what had gone on between them. Friends or foes?
“You failed to mention this bravado. Of course,” he turned back to me, “it could all be an act.”
“Try me,” I said.
The horseman laughed. Despite his full blond beard and mustache, he still looked younger than I. Maybe seventeen or eighteen years old. His eyes were a washed-out blue, and his shoulder-length blond hair had been pulled back into a ponytail. He wore a simple light gray tunic. Even from this distance, I could tell that his shirt’s fabric was finer than the guards’ clothes.
“What do you want?” I asked again.
“Information.”
I gaped at his unexpected answer.
“Oh, come on,” he said. “Don’t play the simpleton with me. I want military statistics on Ixia. Troop size and location. Strengths. Weaknesses. How many weapons? Valek’s precise location. Who and where his other spies are. That type of information.”
“Why would you think I know all this?”
He glanced at Leif, and sudden understanding flooded my mind. “You think I’m a northern spy.” I sighed. Leif had set me up. That’s why the horseman knew Leif was my brother. Leif’s fear and shock during the ambush had all been an act. He had no business with the First Magician. No wonder he hadn’t said a word since I had arrived in the tent.
“All right, since everyone believes I’m a spy, I guess I should act like one.” I crossed my arms to achieve a defiant posture. The clang of the manacles didn’t help the image, but I sallied forth anyway. “I’m not telling you southern scum anything.”
“You’ll have no choice.”
“Then you’re in for a surprise.” Meaning I didn’t have the answers he sought. If he had wanted to know the Commander’s favorite food, I’d be happy to oblige.
“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
