across from her she saw Victor silhouetted against the firelight.
Holstering the pistol, she crawled through the hole and deftly sprinted across the room to stand on the left side of the threshold. Victor stood taller than her by a head, with a strong svelte body. That handsome, angular face, with its chiseled, rugged features of a cinema star and wavy collar-length walnut brown hair, could make her swoon like a schoolgirl, though his goatee gave him a diabolical caste.
He stiffened, as if hearing something, and his head twitched as he made ready to turn it.
"Don't look," she whispered.
He relaxed and a faint smile crossed his lips. "I figured you'd come," he murmured. "Did they contact you or Karchedon?"
"Me. As luck would have it, I had just arrived at my mansion in Celephaïs when I received the ransom demand. But I never had any intention of paying."
"That goes without saying, My Love. Is Team Girl with you?"
"Naturally."
"I expected you sooner."
"Bloody cheek. I stalled the negotiations as long as I could, but I wasn't able to discover where they were holding you, so I arranged to make the exchange here at noon tomorrow, and I insisted they bring you along. I refused to cooperate unless I could see you were alive and well."
"I appreciate that. You do realize this is a trap."
"Of course. I'm well aware of the various rewards the Moonbeasts and others have offered for my head. I calculated they would arrive ahead of us to set up their ambush, so we got here early."
"Well, better late than never, I suppose."
"You're one to talk. I'm still trying to figure out how you got yourself into this mess."
"I'd be more than happy to enlighten you later."
"We have some time. I want to wait for them to get good and plastered. Besides, the Punicae authorities were less than forthcoming."
"Very well. Queen Elishat had sent me on a mission to Lelag-Leng."
Victor had been a British diplomat in the Waking World before he died, and he continued that profession in the Dreamlands, except he worked for the city-state of Karchedon, which ruled the island-nation of Punica.
"She commanded me to keep a low profile, so as not to raise suspicion. I decided to travel as a trader, and I had hired these four 'gentlemen' to be my escort. One of them must've recognized me, or they were tipped off. Either way, they kidnapped me as soon as we arrived in the Northern Lands. The rest you know."
"Why didn't you wait until my next Dream cycle?"
"I couldn't; the mission was time sensitive, and frankly you're too recognizable." He then shrugged. "Besides, this isn't the first time I've done something like this. Now, if you don't mind, I would appreciate being rescued."
"Hmph. A damsel you're not."
"I couldn't agree more, though I find the parallels amusing, and I'd be more than happy to offer the usual reward. But, seriously, could we table this discussion for another time? I really would like to be set free sooner than later."
"Patience." She examined his bonds. His wrists were secured by ropes looped around the lintel through gaps between the masonry. She could see no slack, but the cords ran along the underside of his palms and wrists.
A half-smile tugged at her mouth. "I have an idea."
"A successful one, I hope."
"It will be tricky. I'll need you to stay perfectly still."
"I believe I can manage that."
She grinned at his sarcastic tone. He didn't like taking a passive role.
"I'll be right back." She patted him on the rump as she retreated into the middle of the room. She turned and positioned herself until his body blocked her view of the fire, then started forward in a slow and careful manner. She intended to hide herself from the Leng Men as she came up behind him.
The distance between them shrank with interminable slowness, but finally she came close enough to embrace him. "I've arrived. Don't move." He didn't reply, but she didn't expect him to.
She drew her poignard dagger from her belt and crossed her arms over her chest. She opened them across her face and held them on either side of her head. After a moment she raised and spread them until they matched the position and placement of his arms, as near as she could with their height difference.
"Hold the ropes with your hands." He grasped them as if using them for support.
"All right, this is the tricky part. I'm going to try to slip my dagger blade between your wrists and the ropes, then cut the latter, but don't let go."
He gave his head a twitching nod to indicate he understood.
She strained on tiptoes, steadying herself by gripping his other arm, as she stretched to reach his right wrist. She tried poking with the tip of the dagger to slip the long, thin, razor-sharp blade between his wrist and the rope.
"Ouch!" he hissed in a whisper.
She froze as one of the Leng Men looked in their direction, but he only grinned with evil mirth at their captive's apparent discomfort and turned his attention back to his companions.
"That was close," he murmured.
"Hopefully he was too drunk to notice anything. Relax your wrist."
A gap opened up between the rope and his arm, and she inserted the blade through.
"Now, pull the rope taught." He did so, and she started sawing.
"It's working."
"I know, I can feel the strands part."
She sliced through the cord in seconds. "Keep holding the rope. It will look like you're still secure."
"Figured that out the first time."
"Bloody cheek." She lowered her arms and transferred the dagger to her left hand. "I have half a mind to leave you like this while I kill them myself."
She turned her head as she raised her arms, and caught movement out of the corner of her eye. Whipping around, she spotted a dark shape fly at her; firelight flickered off the polished blade of a shamshir scimitar. Following through with her turn, she parried the blow with the dagger and lashed out with a jujitsu kick, knocking her attacker back.
"What's happening?" Victor asked.
She pulled down his right arm and slapped the dagger into his hand. "Ambush! You're on your own!" She didn't like abandoning him, but she knew they could both be caught or killed if she tried to free him herself. She had to trust Team Girl would protect him.
She spun around again to face the aggressor, who executed a flying kick to her chest. Thrown back, she arched her body and performed a back handspring. Once she had gained her feet she pulled a pistol and fired without aiming. The assailant, who charged her, dodged right to avoid the bullet. That gave her a chance to summon her greatsword Caliburn. Tossing the spent pistol aside she drew another and rushed the bushwhacker. He met her halfway and they exchanged a couple of parried strikes before she aimed at his chest. She got her first good at him and saw furry cloven-hoofed legs with backward-pointing knees: a Leng Man, though one smaller and thinner than any she had previously encountered. He wore an open cape-like coat over a shirt and a long breechclout, with gloves and a tagelmust covering his head and face except for his ruby-red eyes, all of it black. Unlike the turbans of his compatriots around the fire, he had wrapped his head so tightly she could see bulges where his goat horns and ears would be.
He was also very quick. As she pulled the trigger he dodged left; the .56 caliber ball went through a fold of the coat, nothing more. She pulled out another pistol, but he put himself between her and Victor; she couldn't fire without risk of hitting him. Looking past him she saw Victor cut through the rope securing his left wrist. One of the Leng Men attacked him with a saif scimitar. He parried the strike, and an arrow struck the Lengite through the neck. Victor snatched up the fallen sword and sprinted out of view, and Differel spotted Eile battling two Leng Men at once, using her shield like a weapon. One went down with an arrow in his back, and she pressed her attack against the other.
She aimed the pistol and fired; the Lengite dodged, but hesitated a moment too long. The bullet struck him in a horn and ric
ocheted, snapping his head to one side as his tagelmust flew off. She pulled her last pistol and pointed it at his face, and froze in stunned surprise.
The Lengite was a woman!
She raised a tube to her lips and blew powder into Differel's face. Blinded, she hurriedly backed off, coughing, sneezing, and blinking as her eyes watered. Through the haze of tears she tried to aim. The lady Lengite threw a bladed throwing star side-handed and it impaled her gun-hand wrist. She cried out and dropped the pistol; the bushwhacker charged her, swinging the shamshir. Her vision clearing, she parried and followed through, slashing at her head. The Lengite ducked, rammed a fist into the pit of her stomach, and slammed the crown of her head into Differel's chin. Dazed, she couldn't resist when the lady assassin body-checked her into a pillar and pinned her in place. She pulled out a Khyber knife and held it over-handed, the point an inch from the bridge of her nose.
An arrow flew between the horns and struck the pillar just above Differel's head.
"The next one goes into the back of your head."
Differel focused past the Lengite and saw Sunny just inside the doorway, her bow drawn. Eile and Victor flanked her.
"Drop it."
The assassin opened her hand and the knife fell to her feet.
"Step back."
She complied as she lowered her hands. Differel sidestepped out of the line of fire, holding her injured arm against her chest.
"Keep you hands where I can see them!"
The lady Lengite raised them above her head, and Differel spotted her right held a small round black object.
"Look out!" The bushwhacker