The Measure of the Magic (22 page)

The flash of a knife blade in the starlight banished all other thoughts. He caught the blade on his staff just as the magic flared to life, all of it happening in seconds. He blocked the strike and the magic exploded off the staff and threw his attacker away. But the latter was back on his feet almost immediately. Abandoning his attack on Pan, he turned on Prue who was scrambling up, wanting to help, revealing herself in a way that made the boy’s heart lurch in dismay.

“Prue!” he screamed.

But the attacker was already on top of her, bearing her to the ground, knife rising and falling. Pan was running toward her, aware that he was too late to save her. But to his astonishment, she had somehow managed to roll out from beneath the attack and was back on her feet, her staff held ready. Her attacker was coming toward her once more, but she took his measure and swung her walking stick not at his head, but at his legs, taking them out from under him. He went down, thrashing wildly. Pan had summoned the magic and it flared at his fingertips and along the black length of the staff, but he could not bring it to bear when Prue and her attacker were so close together.

She seemed to sense this and dived to one side as the knife swept toward her. She went down in a hard rolling motion that took her out of reach, and Pan struck out with everything he could muster. His aim was true, and the magic hammered into their stalker with such force that it threw him twenty feet into a tree trunk where he went down in a heap and didn’t move.

Pan stood gasping in mingled shock and relief, painfully aware in the aftermath of the attack how close they had come to being killed.

T
HEY APPROACHED
the downed man cautiously, Pan a step ahead of Prue, ready to defend her should there be need. But their assailant was unconscious, and even when Pan prodded him with his boot, he did not move.

So they propped him up against the tree trunk, stripped him of his
knife and every other weapon they could find, of which there were a considerable number. Certainly, there were more than any ordinary hunter would ever think to carry—hidden in his boots, sleeves, pockets, and slits cleverly sewn into the seams of his clothing, in his belt, and even in his wide gold bracelet. Some were unidentifiable, things that looked like throwing stars and curved blades, though tiny and barbed. In the end, Pan cut off his sleeves and pant legs and removed his belt and boots, taking no chances that there might still be weapons hidden on him that they hadn’t found. Then they lashed him to the tree and removed the mask that was covering his head.

Neither of them had ever seen him before.

“He doesn’t look like he belongs out here,” Prue observed.

Pan agreed. He was young and rather pale, almost soft looking. His hands were smooth and free of calluses, and there were no visible scars. He was certainly no hunter or Tracker. There was nothing about him that suggested he spent much time outdoors or engaged in any sort of physical labor.

“He’s an assassin,” Pan said. “Sent to find us.”

Prue shook her head. “By whom? Who would want to kill us?” She hesitated as Pan gave her a look. “Skeal Eile? I thought that was finished. I thought Sider put an end to that.”

“Sider is dead.” Pan backed away from the slumped figure and seated himself cross-legged on the ground. “When he wakes up, we’ll see what he has to say about it.”

Abruptly, Prue got to her feet, walked over to her pack, took out their cooking pan, carried it down to the lake, filled it with water, walked back to him, and threw the water in the unconscious man’s face.

The man jerked awake immediately, shaking his head and sputtering. Blinking rapidly, he looked from one to the other. “Children,” he muttered. “I’ve been taken prisoner by children.”

“Who are you?” Pan asked, leaning forward, but staying out of reach. Prue had taken a seat next to him. “Why were you trying to kill us?”

The man smiled. “You’ll forgive me, but I don’t think I’m going to answer either of those questions.”

“You won’t give us your name?”

“I won’t give you the time of day. Or night, in this case.”

“Or who sent you?”

“Or who didn’t.”

They stared at one another in silence then. “What should we do with him?” Prue asked finally.

“Why don’t you just let me go?” their prisoner asked. “I’ll go straight home and not come back. You have my word.”

“I’m sure your word is good, too,” Pan answered. “The word of an assassin. I have a better idea. Why don’t we just leave you tied up to this tree and see if anything interested in an easy meal finds you in—oh, I don’t know, say the next two weeks. I don’t know that anything will, but it might be better than starving. No one much comes into the meres, you know.”

The young man smiled. “You won’t do that. You won’t leave me.”

“I won’t?”

“You do, and you’ll never find out anything. Also, you’re not built that way. You don’t have it in you.”

Pan almost contradicted him, but Prue cut him off. “You’re right. We aren’t like that. So we have to take you to someone who knows what to do with you.”

She looked at Pan. “Since we are on our way to Arborlon, let’s take him there. We can give him to Tasha and Tenerife to guard and if they don’t want him they can give him to the Home Guard or even to the Queen.”

A flash of uneasiness appeared in their prisoner’s eyes.

“Tasha and Tenerife are all right, but the Queen?” Pan had seen the look in the other’s eyes and was just talking now to see what would happen.

“All we want is to keep this creature locked away until we find out more about him.” Prue cocked an eyebrow. “What does it matter where he’s kept or who’s doing the keeping?” She glanced over at their prisoner. “Tell you what, though. We can let Skeal Eile know what happened to you, if you like. Maybe he will decide to come see about getting you released.”

The young man was looking down at his hands now, refusing to meet their eyes. “I suppose you have to do what you think is best. But I’m still not going to tell you anything.”

Pan shrugged. “You don’t have to. We don’t care.” He got to his feet. “Better get some sleep, though. You still have to walk to where we’re going. Come on, Prue.”

He helped her stand and then made a show of walking her back to where their packs were, picking them up, and carrying them to a place just a little distance off from the bound man. Neither said anything as they spread their blankets on the ground and prepared to go to sleep.

“One minute,” their prisoner called out suddenly. “There is something you should know.”

Pan exchanged a quick glance with Prue. On his nod, they walked over together and stood in front of the prisoner, waiting.

“If you take me to Arborlon, I’ll be killed,” he said. He paused. “You won’t be safe, either.”

Prue shook her head. “That’s what you have to tell us?”

“No, there’s more. But first I want your promise that if I tell you what I know, you won’t take me to Arborlon.”

“We have friends in Arborlon,” Pan pointed out. “If someone wants to harm you, that’s your problem. No one wants to harm us.”

The young man looked disgusted. “You don’t know anything. You don’t even understand what’s happening. I do. Make the promise, and I’ll tell you.”

Pan looked at Prue for guidance. She shrugged. “I don’t believe him. Besides, we have to go to Arborlon. That’s where Phryne is. What happens to this one isn’t important.”

“You heard her,” Pan said to their prisoner. “Keep what you know to yourself.”

He turned away, Prue going with him.

This time their prisoner didn’t call them back.

P
AN SLEPT LATE
the following morning, not coming awake until the sun had crested the mountains and daybreak was long past. It might have been his exhaustion from the previous day’s flight and subsequent battle or the deep stillness of the meres or even the way the sunlight was absorbed by shadows and gloom as it tried to pass through the thick canopy of the trees that kept him sleeping longer than he
normally would. But the result was the same—he was the last to wake and not at all unhappy about it.

He had kept watch while Prue slept deep into the night before waking her to take his place, and she was sitting where he had left her, eyes on their prisoner. The bound man was staring back.

“You’re blind,” he was saying to Prue. “I didn’t see that last night. But how can you be blind? You fought back like you could see me perfectly. You shouldn’t have been able to get away from me, but you did. How?”

The girl ignored him. “Morning, Pan. Breakfast in a few minutes.”

She set about pulling out bread, dried fruit, and a little cheese from her backpack, and then poured them cups of water from the pouch. Pan blinked awake as he sat watching her, yawning. “You should have woken me.”

“I should have done nothing of the sort.”

“You can see, can’t you,” their prisoner called out, unwilling to drop the subject. “You look like you can’t, but you can. Who are you? You aren’t what you seem, I know that much.”

“You aren’t, either,” Prue called back to him. “Here you are,” she said to Pan, handing him his food and water.

They sat side by side looking out at the lake while they ate, ignoring their prisoner, who continued on about her sight along with questions about his own meal and when he was going to get it. He seemed more agitated this morning, less patient with his captivity. There was an undercurrent of uneasiness that matched what they had seen in his eyes the night before when they had mentioned taking him to Arborlon.

When they had finished their breakfast, Prue took food and drink over to their prisoner and hand-fed him, refusing his requests that he be freed so that he could feed himself. In the end, he ate quietly and drank down his cup of water in one long series of gulps. He studied her face in a way that she found disconcerting, but she was careful to mask her emotions. With someone like this, you never wanted to reveal what you were thinking or feeling.

While she was engaged with their prisoner, Pan packed up their supplies and tied up their blankets in preparation for setting out. Even though he had slept longer than he had planned, they still had plenty
of time to reach their destination before nightfall. He was already thinking about what they would do once they reached Arborlon and rid themselves of their prisoner. First they needed to find Tasha and Tenerife, and together they could figure out what to do about Phyrne.

They were almost ready to depart when their prisoner, still bound to the tree, called out. “I’ve changed my mind,” he told them. “I’ll tell you what you want to know. If that is what it takes to keep you from marching me off to Arborlon, why not? I have to do something to save you from yourselves.”

Pan, kneeling beside his backpack, glanced over. “That’s very kind of you.”

“Kinder than you know.” He sighed and shook his head, much as if he were dealing with small children. “All right, then. Listen. You were right about me. I have special skills, talents that are of use at times to others. I am for hire to those who have the coin. But mostly only to one man.”

“Skeal Eile?” Pan suggested.

“I would appreciate it if you would come close enough to look me in the eye while I am telling you this. Is that asking too much?”

Pan got up and walked over, but didn’t sit, waiting to see if this was going to be worth his time. Prue sidled up beside him.

“Thank you, Excellencies.” The young man inclined his head in a gesture of mock gratitude. “You won’t regret listening to what I have to tell you, I promise.”

“First tell us your name,” Pan demanded.

“I am called Bonnasaint,” the other answered immediately.

“From Glensk Wood?”

“Same as you. But I do not live in the village. I live on the far eastern edge, away from other people. You wouldn’t have seen me before.”

“Why shouldn’t we take you to Arborlon, Bonnasaint?” Prue asked him. “Why would you be in danger there?”

“What you should be asking yourselves,” the other answered, “is why
you
would be in danger.”

“And are you going to give us the answer?”

He nodded. “I was hired by the Queen, Isoeld Severine, to kill her husband. It was done under circumstances that made it appear that the Princess had killed her own father. That way the Queen could ascend
the throne and the Princess could be locked away. If you take me back and she finds out, she will not chance that I might say something. She will have me killed. If you were her, wouldn’t you?”