scribe’s shop in Silvanost and ask for these tomes, you know. They’re forbidden! I took many chances getting it.” He drew a stubby finger across his throat. Tiphan ignored the ugly gesture. Bek continued, “This book has commentaries by Vedvedsica himself. Did you see the passages in red ink? His hand, his wisdom.”
Tiphan knew the fame of the elf priest Vedvedsica. For many years he’d been the first sage of Silvanos’s realm. Then, a few years ago, rumors had reached Yala-tene of his downfall. It was said the wily Vedvedsica had been exiled to an island far away in the southern sea.
“I’ll give you four pounds of bronze,” Tiphan told him. “Or six pounds of copper. I also have some gemstones.”
Bek shook his head. His eyelids closed for the space of two heartbeats, and when they opened again, his irises had switched colors – now the right one was yellow, and the left blue.
“I want the robe off your back, nothing less,” Bek said, grinning. His teeth were uncommonly long and pointed.
“There’s ten pounds of bronze in this robe!”
“With this book you can command the elements!” The little man held the lid poised over the basket. “Last chance. What say you?”
Tiphan’s hands positively ached to hold the manuscript again. Jaw clenched, he unclasped the buckle of his belt and let it fall to the dirt. Dropping his arms, he shrugged the heavy robe off. It piled around his feet like musical, golden snow.
The little man handed Tiphan the scroll. “Wise choice, my friend. Knowledge is much more valuable than bronze,” he said. To Tiphan’s amazement, the panther tail attached to the back of the man’s belt moved, lashing once from side to side.
“You seem to crave bronze well enough,” Tiphan said, slipping the parchment roll inside his white doeskin shirt.
“A fella’s got to eat. While you’re here, can I interest you in another book? It’s also from Silvanost, very rare, suppressed by five priesthoods.” In answer to Tiphan’s questioning look, Bek elaborated. “ Girthas Laka Morokiti, ‘Dialogue of the Courtesans.’ It tells of the amorous doings of highborn Silvanesti ladies.”
Tiphan sneered. “Keep it. I seek wisdom, not lechery.” He picked up his belt, raised the door flap, and added, “But if you find more like this, contact me in the usual way.”
“Good fortune to you, excellent Tiphan!” Bek called cheerfully. “Always a delight to serve you.”
The Sensarku walked away. He glanced back once and regretted it. The bookseller stood partially concealed in the door of his tent. Where sunlight fell on him, the illusion of humanity failed utterly. One leg, one arm, and his shoulder were covered by charcoal fur. A single yellow fang protruded from his whiskered upper lip. The supposed panther’s tail curled around Bek’s ankle, twitching with feline amusement.
Chapter 2
At long last the screaming stopped. The blazing tents collapsed in a shower of sparks, and the night grew dark again. Laughing and talking loudly, the raiders drifted back to the despoiled camp. Having chased down and killed the last of their terrified victims, they fell to looting the camp.
There was little to be had. The only livestock were four goats and six oxen. No more than twelve plainsmen had been in camp when the raiders struck. All were now slain. All but one.
The girl pressed herself into the grass close beside a speared ox, using the fat beast for cover. Her tangled, waist-length black hair screened the pale oval of her face from view. She held her clenched fists to her mouth to keep from making a sound. Tears streamed down her cheeks. When the screams of her kinsman stopped, she heard one of the raiders tell another to start butchering the animals.
A rider approached at a canter. She prayed to her ancestors to let the darkness shield her, to let the rider go to another beast. The carcass shifted slightly as he prodded it with his spear.
“A big one here!” he