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groin, which, he had to admit, was fair enough. He fell to his knees, nauseous with pain, but the two Dellorans hoisted him back up.
    Hendrieux’s face split into a genuine smile. “Tyvian! Now, what has you running scared, hmmm?”
    Tyvian heard the cock of a crossbow and, between gasps of agony, managed to make introductions. “Gentlemen . . . I . . . give you . . . Hacklar Jaevis.”
    It turned out that Jaevis didn’t have a crossbow, but rather a close relative. It was a hurlant—­a crossbow-­like device designed to throw spheres rather than bolts—­and this hurlant was loaded with a smooth, fist-­sized stone that popped and sizzled in the cool night air. “You give me Reldamar now.”
    The Dellorans all drew their swords; Gallo hefted his heavy maul. Hendrieux moved so he could leap behind Gallo, should it become necessary, and smiled. “Now now, friend—­we’ve no love for this wretch, do we? We were just about to slit his throat ourselves.”
    â€œI take him alive.” Jaevis’s aim with the hurlant never wavered from Gallo’s massive form. “I take him now.”
    â€œThere are ten of us and one of you.” Hendrieux said. “I don’t think you are in a position to give orders.”
    Jaevis nodded at his weapon. “Thunder-­orb gives me position. Give Reldamar now .”
    â€œOne thunder-­orb won’t kill us all, Mr. Jaevis. Let’s be reasonable—­I have personal business with Mr. Reldamar here that will end in his death. You’re a bounty hunter, aren’t you? Why don’t I pay whatever you’re being paid plus, say, ten percent, and we call it even, hmmmm?”
    Tyvian saw an opportunity to jump in. “He’s bluffing, Jaevis. He’s a coward—­he’s soiling his breeches at the thought of you firing that thunder-­orb at him.”
    Hendrieux gave Tyvian a withering glance. “I am not bluffing.”
    â€œThat’s exactly what you’d say if you were bluffing.”
    Black Eye gave Tyvian an ear-­boxing that sent his head spinning. He let himself fall to the ground and pretended to whimper.
    â€œEnough talk!” Jaevis’s finger trembled over the trigger. “Back away!”
    Hendrieux, his face a bit paler than before, began to back up. “Very well, very well—­no need to—­”
    Gallo charged, heavy maul held high. He made no cry, bellowed no challenge—­he was like a war machine with its switch thrown, sudden and inexorable. The next few seconds were complete mayhem. Jaevis fired at Gallo, and the magical stone detonated on the huge man’s breastplate with thunderclap force, blowing everyone off their feet. Everyone, that was, besides Tyvian, who had sensibly gotten down earlier. The heat and crackling energy of the blast was still coursing through Tyvian’s body; he was deafened by the sound, disoriented by the concussion. Still, he had the wherewithal to sit up.
    Gallo, impossibly, wasn’t dead. He had lost his maul and the loose wool cape he had draped over his shoulders, and his armor smoked and crackled like something stuffed in a furnace, but he stood up without so much as flinching. He backhanded Jaevis as the bounty hunter tried to rise, spinning the Illini around and knocking him back over. Tyvian grinned at this, but stopped grinning when, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hendrieux coming at him with a drawn sword. Thinking quickly, Tyvian scooped a handful of gravel from the road and hurled it at Hendrieux’s eyes. The Akrallian flinched, buying Tyvian enough time to stand up and snatch a sword from one of the dazed Dellorans.
    The Dellorans—­the ones not blown to pieces by the thunder-­orb, anyway—­were getting up, too. Sounds were coming back to Tyvian’s ears; they were fuzzy and indistinct, but they were definitely sounds. He took