against the walls, the bandits might pass by.
Might.
Amber tried not to squirm as pebbles clittered and sandals skittered. Reiver had disappeared, as usual. Amber didn't worry. The thief could vanish into a hole like a mouse and pop out anywhere. She heard rough breathing, puffing from the climb, smelled wool robes, dried sweat, camel-dung smoke, and mint tea, heard gravel crunch under a sandal, then a hem swish over stone. The first bandit was past, a man by the size.
The same again, only a smaller blur, a woman spiced with some perfume like cinnamon. She too was past.
A slap and stamp sounded outside. A big rock rattled, then there was a muffled thump as someone half fell and caught himself. Breathing rasped, hot, harsh, and constricted, as if through half-closed nostrils. With a flicker of horror, Amber recalled that the third bandit had straggled well behind the humans as if shunned-the mongrelman, Amber shuddered and mashed herself still flatter against the wall.
Crawling off the wreckage, the mongrelman shambled along the tunnel but stopped instantly when it drew abreast of the hiding Menmonites. The hulk sniffed the air and turned toward Amber surely as if in broad daylight. It had an animal's nose, Amber thought in despair, so they must fight clear. Unless this beast-man passed by-
In pitchy darkness, a hand with dog claws touched Amber's breast and snatched a fold of her filthy tunic. The daughter of pirates exploded into action. In her right hand, the capture noose swooped a half circle to bean the mongrelman's head. It did, just barely, whiffing through the top of its ratty headscarf. The monster was shorter than Amber had guessed. No matter. That nudge was just to gauge where the mongrelman stood and to distract it to look right.
From the left, Amber snaked her wooden billy from her sleeve, grabbed the short handle tight, and swung a vicious arc for the attacker's temple. She didn't swing club fashion, side on, but pointed the club like a dagger because she knew where to strike.
Strike she did, like a meteor. Teakwood punched the mongrelman's skull like a hammer hitting an anvil. A gut-wrenched woof, rancid as a vulture's breath, gushed in Amber's face as the mongrelman collapsed. She jerked her knee so the creature didn't topple against her, clopped it under its chin-or beak-and kicked it flat on its back. Dust billowed, a musty smell, for she couldn't see much.
'What's happening?' hissed Hakiim, nine feet away against the opposite wall.
'Get back up to the street! There's too many-ackl'
Amber flinched as a hand hooked her neck from behind. Gulping, the daughter of pirates flopped and squatted, as she'd been taught in handling slaves. To simply go limp and let your weight drag off an assailant's grip was a good defense, especially since the grabber expected you to stiffen and pull away, not sink. At the same time, Amber thrust her left hand up alongside her chin to force the assailant's arm away. A calloused hand slid up her face, dislodging her headscarf.
Instinctively, Amber fought back. Slavers who didn't cut and thrust didn't survive. Twisting from the questing left hand, Amber rammed her sturdy capture noose backward, then snapped high. The move would either belt the attacker in the gut and double him over, or if she missed, smack him in the plums, providing he was male.
He was. A pained grunt echoed over Amber's head. Without rising, with both hands, Amber jammed her staff's butt for the same spot, a little higher. A satisfying thud told her she'd scored. All this in seconds.
Close up, Hakiim muttered, 'I think there's only one, Amber.'
'Well, hit him, by Bhaelros!'
Instantly she wanted to retract the command, because Hakiim carried a scimitar, and this tunnel was black, and he could easily kill her too, but a series of rapid chops told her Hakiim whacked the bandit's head with either the back side or flat of his blade.
'I think he's down,' Hakiim panted.
'Where's the other one?'
'Which one?'
Only the faintest yellow glow showed far down the tunnel and around a corner.
'Wasn't there a woman?' Wrenching her kaffiyeh into place, Amber tried to listen above her own panting, then said, 'There was. Where'd she go?'
'I don't know… perhaps she ran to warn the torch-bearers,' gulped Hakiim, fearing the worst as usual.
Talking was useless and stupid, Amber decided. The male and mongrel bandits were down, but that left many still down there.
'Hak,' puffed Amber, 'let's go back to the street and wait for Reiver.'
'No, Hak, let's go down the tunnel,' Amber bleated again.
Except Amber hadn't spoken a second time.
'What?' Hakiim was confused. 'Which way?'
'To the street,' Amber hissed. What was happening?
'No, Hak, it's a trap. Come this way, quickly,' said Amber's voice.
Someone's imitating me! Amber realized. Perfectly.
A tree hit her. An arm wrapped in rags, big as a log, it seemed, belted her alongside the head. Staggered, Amber's head kissed stone as she fell. Only her headscarf prevented her scraping her scalp to the bone. The blow made her woozy, and she sank to one knee, propped on the wall.
'Amber,' yelped Hakiim. 'What-agghl'
The rug merchant's son was kicked or bowled over and crashed in dust. A snuffling snort broke the silence, and there was a clumsy scuffing on gravel. Hakiim grunted explosively as someone stamped on his stomach.
Head spinning, Amber wondered how-then remembered…
The Legends of Those Who Came from Mist told one story of how King Golden Horn's janessars, the paladins and crusaders of the Marching Mountains, battled the hordes of the Goblin King Kurot. They were misled, and a hero died, because a mongrelman imitated a comrade's voice perfectly. As a survival trick, the mongrel race could imitate the speech of men, animals, and birds-and Amber. The mongrelman, tougher than she thought, had shrugged off the head blow from her billy.
Struggling to rise, Amber gasped, 'Hak, the mongrel talks just like-'
'I'm all right,' piped Hakiim's voice. 'Keep talking so I can find you.'
Amber had lost her capture staff and couldn't find it, so she clutched her billy.
Crouching low, scooching on her heels, she snapped, 'No, because you're not Hakiim!'
Lashing out, she hooked her left hand and billy hard. She almost broke her wrist on the mongrelman's thick leg-which bent backward and might have ended in a hoof-but she snagged the limb, grabbed her billy in her right hand and yanked hard. Its leg whipped from underneath it, and the mongrelman crashed hard on its back. Its head smacked a stone with a noise that was gruesome to hear. A light appeared suddenly in the tunnel, winking on like a firefly. Amber flinched and squinted, and Hakiim gasped.
Reiver crouched, a splinter of wood sparkling in his hand, his garrote chain winking in the other. He'd shielded the light until he was almost upon them.
Frightened, huffing for air, Amber snapped, 'Where in the name of nine devils have you been?'
'Exploring.' Juggling the candlewood, Reiver reached down his shirt front to pull a string. His silver garrote chain slithered up his sleeve like a snake into hiding. 'Let's go,' he said. 'The way is clear, for the moment.'
Frowning, Amber looked to the two bandits. The man was a simple nomad in typical black robes. The mongrelman showed little, for it was layered in rags, but one foot was clubbed and hoofed like a donkey's, and one hand had two fingers and two dog claws. Amber shuddered, but also felt a surprising sympathy. What kind of life could a half-human monster, hideous and unique, expect? Only shunning, slavery, and an early death.
She felt a hot anger against both bandits. She had no desire to fight these people, or anyone, and would rather be left alone. Some of them had manhandled her over a fire without a qualm, and her face still cracked and peeled. The angry memory overwhelmed her, and without thinking she inverted her capture staff and walloped the two bandits on their skulls. The heavy blows left them twitching.
Panting, breast heaving, she realized her friends were watching. Hakiim looked on in horror, Reiver in calm understanding. The thief nodded toward the distant glow. Legs suddenly weak, Amber used her capture staff like a cane to push erect, and the three skulked away.
'There was a woman with them-' Amber started.
'Taken care of,' cut off Reiver.
