Page 4 of The Sorcerer's Thief
The men behind me have caught up.
They close ranks, surrounding me. The shiny tips of a frankly unreasonable number of swords and daggers point toward my soft bits.
Maybe I should have snuck out after all.
“Take him alive, fellows. The queen will want the intruder questioned,” says the stone-looking guy.
“Hear that?” One of the men I’d yanked away from earlier sneers. “He said, ‘alive.’ Notunharmed.” He pokes at me with his dagger.
I yelp and lean backward into the arms of men already holding me tight. If only I could get one to do this for me in the bedroom. Preferably naked and?—
“And unharmed,” the gargoyle rumbles.
Yeah, he must be the leader. Perhaps an appeal to him would help my cause. He can’t have much love for those who created him for the sole purpose of serving them, can he?
Heat sears my chest, but not from the dagger. And not because I’m panting so heavily I’m about to throw up my spicy veggie curry dinner either.
From my secret pocket.
From the coin.
I shriek, grab my chest, and fall deeper into the embrace of my captors as dramatically as their hold on me will allow.
“Wasn’t me, boss,” says pokey dagger guy.
“What’s wrong with him?”
Good question. I’d like to know the answer myself. Energy courses through me, teasing my magic, daring it to come out and play. I’m shaking like a small yappy dog whose owner has gone to market and left him all alone.
Here’s the thing.
I’m good at tricks. Fooling people. Making them laugh even, but I’ve never had a talent for anything serious. And this magic emanating from the stolen coin?
This feels serious.
“Pick him up and take him to the dungeon. If he has another episode, we’ll send the healer to check him over.”
I get one last look at the giant gargoyle before everything changes.
Next thing I know, I’m fine, but all the guards are shaking like yappy dogs. They fall to their knees in the perfect dramatic imitation of my fainting spell, leaving me free of grabby hands and stabby blades.
The coin vibrates against my chest as if trying to tell me something.
I’m going withGet out, Cricket, you fool, or have I done all this for nothing?Yeah, seems about right.
Without a backward glance, I dash beneath the double-arched entryway, race down what feels like a million marble stairs gleaming in the silvery moonlight, and make my unlikely escape through a series of the city’s darkest alleyways.
Not a sound behind me. No slapping of boots on cobbles. No guards yelling for me to stop. No mighty gargoyle swooping down from the sky to throw me into his creepy dungeon.
I got away with it.
I pat my chest over where the coin rests safely in its new home in my pocket. “Erm, thanks, buddy. Couldn’t have done it without you.”
“What are you talking to?”
A man steps out of the shadows, blocking my path.
A tall man.
