“Take the boy on ahead,” Kiranrao said to Hettie. “Leave those who follow to me.”
Hettie reached tentatively for Paedrin’s sleeve. She tugged him away from Kiranrao, and he allowed himself to be led, his skin clammy, his stomach clenching with fear.
Hettie pulled him into a brisk walk and left the scene behind. Paedrin glanced back, noticing Kiranrao approach the wounded Paracelsus. He turned his gaze, unable to watch the murder. The barking of the hounds and the braying of the horns muffled it.
It was not far from the scene before Hettie began scolding him. “You are the world’s biggest fool, Paedrin Bhikhu. The biggest. I warned you about him. I told you that he is dangerous. If I pointed to a rattlesnake in a field, you’d probably tease it with a stick.”
Paedrin almost enjoyed the shrill sound of her voice. His stomach knotted with dread, recognizing he had come very close to dying that night. His honor and overconfidence had blinded him to mortal danger.
“How do you know him?” Paedrin asked huskily, trying to get the taste of fear out of his mouth.
“Every Romani knows of him,” Hettie said impatiently. “There are stories about him that would blister your ears. He is known among all of my people. I heard stories about him as a child. I never thought I would meet him, though.” She glanced back worriedly into the darkness. “We must run.”
“Tell me one,” Paedrin asked.
“What?”
“Tell me one of the stories.”
“We should really start running.”
He could hear the sound of the approaching soldiers. “Just one story. Please.”
“Very well, but only one. He was a young man, caught thieving in Kenatos, they say. He was held in a cell and warned the guards that he would kill them all if they tried to hang him. Of course they laughed and spat at him. Some said it would be difficult to hang a Vaettir-born; they promised to tie a sack of stones around his ankles to keep him from floating. He warned them again that each man would die if they tried to hang him.
“The day came. He was marched to the gallows. A crowd gathered in the streets to watch him die. There were jeers and mocking shouts. His hands were tied with ropes behind his back. A cord was knotted around his ankles. They were just about to put the noose around his neck when suddenly the hangman himself had been hanged. The trapdoor was sprung and two more were bashed against the edges, falling in. The crowd panicked. By the time the Bhikhu arrived to restore the peace, all twelve of the officers were dangling from the gallows.” She gave him a serious look. “That is the man you insulted in Havenrook. And again tonight. Now run!”
They ran as fast as the wind. Hettie easily kept up with him, and he deliberately tried to outrun her. This was her terrain, and he could tell she had spent many a night sleeping under the stars. The sound of the horns burst through the air behind them. Torches appeared from the way ahead. They were mounted on horseback.
“Outriders!” Hettie called. “Waylander army!”
Paedrin did not slow his stride. He was running from himself, it felt. Running from the past. His heart hammered in his chest like a blacksmith’s hammer against an anvil. Sweat streaked down his body, freeing him, loosening his muscles.
“Paedrin!” Hettie warned, starting to lose him in his sprint. “They have crossbows! We should try to go around them!”
He ignored her, running straight for them. His legs pounded into the meadow grass. He saw the horses begin to converge from the road. He made no attempt to hide his approach.
“Hold there!” someone warned, thrusting the torch forward. “Hold!”
Paedrin ran even faster, rushing toward the leader, rushing straight at them.
“Shoot him!”
He watched the crossbows lower. He saw the light of the torches spatter their faces.
“Paedrin!”
The Outriders shot at him from five sides.
He sucked in his breath instantly and rose into the air, taking flight like some eagle above a lake. The bolts all hissed and zoomed beneath him as he rose higher and higher, moving forward. His momentum carried him to them quickly, and he would have sailed over their heads, except for a sudden exhale of breath that brought him straight down on the leader and toppled him from the saddle.
It was chaos.