Gail Martin - The summoner

"That was a long time ago," Chessis croaked. "They've probably retired the purse by now."

"Somehow, I doubt it. What are you doing here?"

The bounty hunter twisted slightly, enough to bring his boot around, and Vahanian realized almost too late that there was a blade set in its toe. The knife sliced his pantleg as he released his hold and jumped back, pulling his own blade. Chessis dropped into a defensive squat, circling and looking for an opening. In the narrow alleyway with its tangle of overhead laundry lines, drawing a sword would be impossible. Instead, Vahanian crouched, knife in hand, ready to spring.

Chessis lunged. Vahanian parried. Chessis feinted, then lunged again, his knife scoring against Vahanian's arm. With an oath, Vahanian pivoted, his left foot snapping out towards the surprised bounty hunter, letting his boot connect hard against the man's knife hand and sending the weapon skittering down the alleyway. Before Chessis could recover, Vahanian spun, slipping within the bounty hunter's guard and burying his knife deep in the man's chest. With a groan, the oily-haired man clutched at the spreading stain on his shirt and sagged to the ground, just as Vahanian felt the point of a sword in his back.

"It may be too close to fight with this," a gravelly voice said, "but I have plenty of room to run you through, Jonmarc."

Vahanian dropped his knife and raised his hands. "Hello, Vakkis."

"Some day, before I kill you, you're going to have to teach me that footwork," Vakkis remarked coolly. "You're really a marvel, Jonmarc. I may miss you when you're dead. Escaping from the Nargi is feat enough. Learning their ancient fighting skills is another." Vakkis made a tsk tsk in the back of his throat. "It's going to be much quieter for me after you're gone, Jonmarc."

"I never knew you cared, Vakkis," Vahanian replied. "I'll be glad to give you your first lesson now, if you want."

The jab of the sword's point between his shoulder blades was his reply.

"You know, Chessis was telling the truth," the bounty hunter went on. "We aren't looking for you, at least, right now. I've got another client."

"Slime spreads," Vahanian remarked, and this time, the sword jab drew blood.

"Where is Martris Drayke?"

"How in the hell would I know?"

"Turn around, slowly, and keep your hands up," Vakkis replied, keeping the point of his sword against Vahanian's flesh as the fighter turned, and bringing the sword to bear above his heart. "Now, I'll ask again. Where is Martris Drayke?"

"You're getting old, Vakkis," Vahanian replied. "Hearing's going. I don't know what the hell you're talking about."

A slow smile crept over Vakkis face. "You actually don't, do you?" the bounty hunter chuckled. "This is more satisfying than I'd dreamed. Jonmarc Vahanian, played for a fool."

"I'm glad one of us is having fun. Mind letting me in on the joke?"

A cold smile made Vakkis's pointed features even harsher in the moonlight. "They managed to elude me in Ghorbal, but I heard they'd teamed up with you. Our little kingslayer, Martris Drayke of Margolan and his friends, seem to have bought themselves a guide," Vakkis said, watching Vahanian with amusement. "You really didn't know, did you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." To Vahanian's astonishment, Vakkis reached into his cloak and withdrew a small purse filled with coins, which he dropped at Vahanian's feet. "Even by your standards, there's fair compensation in there for information," Vakkis said, stepping back a pace and lowering his sword. "Now, where is Martris Drayke?"

"Go to hell."

"Loyalty from you, Jonmarc? I'm surprised," Vakkis clucked. "I thought you unburdened yourself of that along with your commission."

"Go screw the goddess."

"In time," Vakkis said with a cold smile. "Think about my offer. I'm easy to find. That purse is only a down-payment. Jared of Margolan has promised to make a rich man of anyone who delivers his brother alive. And you've never let king, honor or country stand in the way when money's involved."

The bounty hunter took another step backward, into the shadows of the alley, so that his face and form were barely visible.

"Think about it, Jonmarc," Vakkis said, his voice carrying in the chill night air. "More money than you can imagine. Pay me a cut and I'll stop hunting you. Wealth and freedom, just for delivering the goods. What businessman could resist?" Vakkis said as he faded into the darkness.

Vahanian did not move for several minutes, until he was sure that Vakkis was actually gone. Only then did he realize just how hard his heart was thudding. Wealth and freedom. He looked down at the purse at his feet. There's only one thing worse than a bounty hunter, a voice said in the back of his mind. And that's the snitch he pays for the kill. The cold night air seared his lungs. He paused and then, surprising himself, stepped over the purse and walked toward the end of the alley, stopping only to snatch up his fallen blade.

Vahanian found Tris at the edge of the camp when he returned, skinning the rabbits Harrtuck brought down for their dinner. "I killed a man for you tonight, Prince Drayke," Vahanian grated. Tris stiffened and rose to his feet as Vahanian continued. "You didn't think it was important enough to tell me the truth, even though it's my neck you're risking to get you to Dhasson."

"Jonmarc, I-"

"Let's get something straight right now," Vahanian continued. "I am not expendable. We don't move from here until I know what's going on. The whole story. If I like what I hear, and believe it, I'll take you to Dhasson. If not, I leave right now, and you can find another fool. And, Your Highness, I'm nobody's liegeman. If I take you to Dhasson, and that's a very big 'if right now, it's on my terms, my way. Do you understand?"

Tris took a deep breath and nodded.

"Good," Vahanian said. "That means you're smarter than most royals. Now, let's hear your story-all of it. "

"Vahanian, you're back," bustled Harrtuck. Harrtuck ambled toward them from the fires of the camp, coming up behind Vahanian. With one fluid movement, Vahanian wheeled, bringing his fist to connect soundly with Harrtuck's jaw.

"What the hell was that for?" Harrtuck shouted.

"I found out from a bounty hunter who your 'cargo' really was," Vahanian snapped. "He could have slit my throat and I'd have never seen it coming."

"Jonmarc, you don't understand-"

"I understand that my life is as important as your three nobles," Vahanian grated, still standing over the stout armsmaster. "And that I can't decide what risks are worth taking if I don't know the game." Glaring, Vahanian turned away and Harrtuck scrambled to his feet.

"In fact, I can't think of one reason right now-even your money-why I should take you to Dhasson."

"Arontala's back. And he's got a king this time, not just a general at his command," Harrtuck said quietly from behind Vahanian, who stiffened at the name.

"How do you know?"

Harrtuck gave a short, harsh laugh. "Know? How we know is the reason we're in the forest freezing our rumps off instead of toasting by a nice palace fire," he said, and together, he and Tris told their tale. This time, the only thing Tris omitted was what happened with Kait in the bedchamber and his subsequent dreams of his sister and his sorceress grandmother.

Vahanian sat in silence for several minutes after they finished, staring at his hands, his face unreadable. "I take you to Dhasson, and then what?"

"Then you collect your money from King Harrol and leave," Harrtuck snapped. "At that point, your jewels are out of the fire."

"And the rest of you?"

"I'm going back," Tris said evenly. "Someone has to stop Jared. I'm the only one who can."

"You're going to stop Foor Arontala? Look, prince, even with King Harrol's entire army, it just ain't enough," Vahanian said, shaking his head.