Magic Strikes(102)
the championship fight. Moonlight sifted on the sand.
By the Pit, bathed in the gauze shroud of moonrays, Hugh d'Ambray, flanked by Nick and the
young fighter, handed a wrapped item to Mart and Cesare.
Ice rolled down my spine. I stopped. The item was long and looked like a sword wrapped in
canvas. So that was where the Guards went. He bought them off to make the exchange.
Hugh was no fool. He had seen the fights and he realized we had a decent chance of winning
tomorrow. He had decided to even the odds. That would be no ordinary sword.
Cesare's upper lip wrinkled in a grimace. Mart flashed his teeth at me and the two Reapers
melted into the darkness. Hugh d'Ambray looked at me and I looked back at him.
«It's not surprising that Roland would ally with the rakshasas. They're an ancient race,
dependent on magic. They respect his power,» I said. «It's not surprising he would use them to
weaken the Pack. They're vicious and sly but not too bright. If they win, they'll make a much
weaker enemy than the shapeshifters. If they lose, the Pack will be bloodied anyway. However,
having Hugh d'Ambray pay off the Guards and slink about in the night like a thief to provide the
rakshasas with a weapon just before the final fight, that I find surprising. That feels almost like
cheating. How very unsavory.»
He strode to me with a short nod. «Walk with me.»
I had to find out what he gave them. Our survival depended on it. I walked next to him. Nick and
the other fighter fell behind a few steps. We began making a circle around the fence.
«I like the way you move. Where have we met before?»
«Just out of curiosity, what did you give them?»
«A sword,» he said.
Duh. «It would have to be something very valuable. They view weapons as toys. They melted all
of your precious electrum so they could pour it onto the face of one shapeshifter.»
The corners of Hugh's mouth twitched. He caught the expression and froze it before it could
bloom into a grimace, but I saw it. Score one for me.
«So this sword must be very special. Something they probably shouldn't be trusted with,
something that would tip the odds in their favor tomorrow. Is it one of Roland's personal
weapons?»
«I liked what you did with the golem,» he said. «Fast, precise, economical. Good technique.»
«Was it Scourge you gave them?»
The sword he'd given them had a wide blade. It could've been Scourge, although I really hoped
it wasn't. Scourge unleashed the kind of magic that decimated armies. No, it had to be something
else. A sword that could be used short range with some precision.
«If you hadn't allied with the wrong side, I could've used you,» he said.
«Thank you for not insulting me with an offer.»
«You're welcome. I do regret that you'll die tomorrow.»
«And that fact matters to you why?»
He shrugged. «It's a waste of talent.»
Here he stood, my father's replacement. Voron had trained him, as he had trained me, although
he didn't get Hugh from birth. Hugh was ten when he started. He was a master swordsman. My
father told me he had never seen a more talented fighter. I supposed the acknowledgment of my
skill by him was a compliment.
«Why do you serve him?» I asked.
A faint veneer of puzzlement overlaid his features.
I really wanted to know. Voron took him in. Voron made him who he was. Roland's magic only
kept him young-he had the body and face of a man barely older than me, but he had to be close to
fifty. He wouldn't age. None of Roland's top cadre felt time. It was his gift to those who served
him. But surely, that alone wasn't enough.
«He's stronger than me. I haven't found anyone else who could best me.» Hugh studied me.
«How often do you take orders from those who are weaker, dumber, and more inept than you?»
My pride stung. «I do so because I choose to.»
«Why not choose to serve a stronger master?»
«Because his vision is warped and I don't believe in it.»
«His vision is that of a better world.»
«A better world bought with atrocities will be rotten at the core.»
«Perhaps,» Hugh said.
I looked into his eyes. «There won't be a tower above Atlanta as long as I live.»
«How fortunate for our cause that your life will end tomorrow.» Hugh smiled. He thought me
ridiculous and so he should.
«Would you spar with me?» he asked. «We have time. I was generous with the Guards.»
The offer tempted me. Hugh was an innate swordsman, a one-in-a-million fighter. Sparring with
him would be as close as I could ever come to sparring with Voron once again. But I had a bout to