A dull thud dammed his stream of talk. His eyes glazed for a moment before he fell.
Mama stepped away from the unconscious man, scrubbing her hand against her robe. “Thank Heaven you were here, Sir Guy! It has been many years since I met a man who so disgusted me with his contempt for women!”
“Tapestries have many uses,” Sir Guy said, “and you were quite clever in drawing his attention so that his back was to me.” He tucked the cudgel into his belt, looking down on Beidizam with distaste. “Much though I mislike striking a man from behind, I must admit it is the only way to capture a sorcerer. Still, considering how greatly he wished to take advantage of you, and how little chance he meant to allow you to refuse, I think I can contain my shame.” He pulled a cord from his waist and knelt to tie the sorcerer’s hands and feet.
Mama took a strip of muslin from her dressing table and handed it to him. “Gag him well, Sir Guy. He must not speak until we wish him to… no, not in any language.”
“Help me!” Luco howled. “I’ve got cramps in all five limbs!”
“Oh, for crying out softly,” Matt said in disgust, and pantomimed untying a knot as he chanted,
Luco relaxed with a groan.
“You could say ‘thank you,’ ” Matt said, irritated.
Luco dared to peek. “Is she gone?”
“Yes, she is gone.” Papa frowned. “What are you doing here?”
With a yell, Luco uncoiled, yanking at the trigger.
Papa and Matt both stood, frowning darkly. “Just what in creation do you think you’re doing?” Matt asked.
Luco stared down at his hands, cupped to hold a rifle that wasn’t there. “It’s gone!”
“You always play air assault rifle?” Matt demanded.
“But it was there just a second ago!” Luco cried, looking about him frantically.
“Wizard,” asked Callio, “what is this contraption?”
“There!” Luco lunged.
Matt caught him and spun him around, tripping him. Luco went sprawling and burst into sobs.
Papa looked down at him uncertainly. “I know you have been through an ordeal of the unexpected, Luco … but to be so unmanned as to weep?”
“He’s in withdrawal.” Matt had other problems, though. He moved slowly toward the thief. “How about handing it to me, Callio? Very carefully.”
“Is it truly dangerous?” Callio held the gun up and peered down the barrel.
Matt caught his breath before Callio could hear the gasp rattle and said, with exaggerated calmness,
“Very dangerous. Put it down carefully, Callio. Just lay it flat on the ground.”
The thief lowered the rifle but looked up at Matt, and the wizard could almost hear the gears turning in the thief’s head. If the thing was dangerous and rare, it should have value… and it might give him some control over the wizards…
“You just looked at your own death,” Matt explained. “If you had happened to push the wrong lever or button while you were looking into it, that gadget would have blown your head to bits.”
With an oath, Callio dropped the assault rifle.
Fortunately, it didn’t go off. Matt caught it up with a sigh of relief.
He pointed it toward the hills, examined it quickly, and threw the lever he thought was the safety. Then he squeezed the trigger. When it wouldn’t move, he finally began to relax… but kept firm hold on the stock and barrel. “It’s this little lever right here, Callio. As long as you push it over to this side, the big lever… the trigger… is locked in place, and the rifle can’t hurt anybody.”
“There is only one magazine in his belt, and none in his pockets.” But Papa held up a small flat envelope between thumb and forefinger.
Matt nodded, but only said, “Probably more of them up on that ridge. I’ll have to go scout for them.”
“I shall,” Callio volunteered. “What are they?”
Matt was tempted… one less chore, one less delay… but decided he didn’t trust the thief farther than he could see him. “Thanks, Callio, but they’re dangerous, too… not as dangerous as the machine itself, but dangerous enough.”
“Oh.” Callio shrank back.
It was galling to realize that Matt probably owed his life to the thief’s acquisitive streak… but he reminded himself that it had been an accident. Callio hadn’t intended to save Matt’s life… it was just that, like a magpie, he felt the need to pick up anything that caught his eye.
Papa was seeing to more immediate problems. “Tell us now, Luco… how did you come here?”
The kid snarled something unprintable about something anatomically improbable.
Papa frowned and turned away, making a gesture over the packet, muttering something under his breath.
“Luco,” Matt said softly.
The kid glared up at him, then stared down the barrel of the assault rifle. For a moment he froze stiff; then he relaxed, mouth quirking into contempt. “Who are you trying to kid, Mantrell? You don’t even know how to work that thing… and even if you did, you’re too chicken to use it!”
“Too good, you mean,” Papa said, frowning. “We are not in New Jersey now. There are no police to arrest Matthew for killing you.”
Luco kept his glare locked with Matt’s, but what he saw there seemed to unnerve him.
Matt nodded slowly. “There’s a war on, Luco. Nobody’s going to count one body more or less.”
“You wouldn’t do it, churchboy!”
“Not kill,” Matt agreed, “but remember your debenture… the last line of the rhyme that killed your cramps, remember?”
Luco eyed him with complete suspicion. “What’s debenture?”
“Well, in your case,” Matt said, “it mostly means I can make the cramps come back at a moment’s notice.”
Luco went very still, but his glare was pure hatred. “Always so high-and-mighty! Always thinking you were better than us!”
“No,” Matt said, “but you did.”
With a shout, Luco shot to his feet and charged at Matt, whipping out a switchblade. Matt stepped aside and swung the rifle; the barrel clouted Luco on the back of the head. He fell and went limp, sobbing again.
“He is not that much of a coward, Matthew,” Papa said before he could ask. “It has only been too long since he has taken his drug.”
“Just leave me alone!”
“Yes, leave you alone for five minutes, so you can sniff your powder,” Papa said, and shrugged. “Why not? Come, Matthew… let us look away for a space.”
Matt stared at him as though he were crazy, but Papa took him firmly by the arm and turned him away, pointing at the hills. “As I remember, he was atop that crest that is a little lower than the two to either side of… “
Luco let out a wordless yell of agony, anger, and panic.
Papa turned back to him slowly. “Yes?”
“They’re gone!” Luco was frantically searching every pocket.
“What… these?” Papa held up a handful of the little envelopes.
Luco stared, mouth gaping. Then with a shout of rage, he lunged at Papa.
Papa danced out of his way; Matt stuck out a foot, and Luco went sprawling. The kid thrashed around, eyes wild, gathering himself for another spring.