Magic Steps

"Very good,” Skyfire told the boy. "Your part's done now. Scat.

"You heard him," added Moonstream, her face kind. "Very nice work, young Master Acalon. Now go, before your fish swim into this net."

Back inside the duke's residence, Alzena scouted the i

What she found was enough to make her start killing everyone she saw, if it hadn't been for her family duty. There were three ways to come at the i

She stood there, hands clenched with furry glaring at these insects that were ruining her plans. It took a few moments for her to realize that something had stirred the insects up. When their officers were not looking they were muttering to one another. The subject was the mad old man who had just stalked out of the i

Alzena listened. Could it be? Had a Rokat walked out of his hiding place?

She trotted off through the palace corridors, listening to the talk as she went, When, she reached the main hall, she found all the gossip she'd heard was true.

"I have business matters that will, not wait!" A richly dressed man in his sixties was shaking his walking stick at a tall, bald black man whose nostrils curved as if he smelled something bad. The crossed keys badge on his tunic marked him as the duke's seneschal, Erdogun fer Baigh. "If those murdering beasts have not struck by now, it's because they’ve given up. What do they care for us little fish, anyway?"

"Master Rokat," began the bald man.

"Don't you 'Master Rokat me,’ Baron fer Baigh!" cried the older man. "My kinfolk will huddle in that dungeon you call the i

A bodyguard ran to do as he was ordered. Erdogun fer Baigh snapped his fingers for a footman. "Since Master Rokat no longer desires our hospitality," he said, his voice clipped, "tell the watch commander I require two squads of Duke's Guards to accompany him home. Two squads, mind. I want all Summersea to know this man is under the duke's protection." He turned away and began to climb the broad stair that rose from the hall. "You'd think these people didn't want to stay alive," he muttered.

Alzena watched the old man and his guards leave, wondering. They were so close to the i

Every instinct clamored for her to go after the old man. Her Dihanur masters had taught her that as one of her first lessons take the weak and easy prey first. No matter that his was one of the houses they hadn't scouted before they killed Jamar Rokat—tracking Durshan would be as easy as breathing, with all those guards around him. People would talk of their passing for hours the Dihaeurs need only follow the gossip.

Take the weak, easy, and stupid prey first. Those families in the i

This sense of Rightness was the most powerful feeling she'd had in a long time. She knew it in her gut Durshan Rokat's killing would break this cycle of frustration.

When she reached the room where she had left her husband and the mage, she found Nurhar wild with energy and the mage shivering. Quickly she told them about the old man and the human carpet. "He's a spoiled elder with no more brains than a rabbit," she told Nurhar. "I want his head."

Nurhar caught fire over the idea, too. He hoisted the mage into his carry-frame. "Cover us well," he told their charge as he tightened the straps. "No slip-ups."

"I never slip up," mumbled the rnage. 'I'm not the one who got cut and needed a healer you had to ki—,"

Alzena slapped his face. "If you are not silent, I will cut out your tongue," she whispered.

He stared at her with eyes that were set in deep black circles, with no trace of white remaining. "How're you different from the pirates?" he wanted to know. "They hit me when they felt grumpy, too."

Nurhar crouched beside him. "She didn't mean it," he told the rnage. "She's just frustrated. We're all frustrated."

The rnage hid his face in his hands. "There is some thing about this place," he whispered through his fingers. "All these spells. Centuries of them. Centuries… Take me out of here. Closer to Durshan Rokat's house, perhaps I can do something. Yes." He looked at them, black eyes glistening. "Yes, get me closer. The air here is bad for me—too many spells. Once in the city I can work better."

"You'd better find a way to handle all the spells here," Nurhar said, his voice ice. "Once we've got the old man, we're coming back." He picked up the mages carry- frame and slung it on his back. "You'll get us into that i

Pasco was following the musicians out when he rebelled. This wasn't right, He wanted to see his net work. They were treating him like a child, when they might have no chance to get these rats without him. He was going to stay, that was all there was to it.

But how? In a moment those mages would come out of the net room. They would disappear within spells to make them look like part of the house or the garden, or the street outside, He'd heard them talk about that. If they saw him, they would make him go.

Suddenly he remembered something from the day before. Yazmнn had been teaching allurement dances. One had a movement that caught his imagination the dancer held an arm straight out with the hand at right angles to the arm. The dancer then pulled, the other hand over her face with the fore and middle fingers parted in a sideways arrow. While one hand traveled across the eyes, the dancer looked sidelong at the outstretched hand. Yazmнn had called it a "flirt." Pasco thought it also looked like something that—with a bit of magic behind it—might achieve the opposite result. It could make people look away from the person who made it. Their eyes might slide off the mage; they might never see him.

Standing in the hall, he closed his eyes and took his seven-count breaths, holding them and letting them go as he'd been taught. The feeling he was begi