jumped back as Kanst emerged from the tent. Jandra scrambled to move out of his way. Invisible or not, it wasn’t difficult to be discovered if a creature with a forty-foot wingspan brushed up against you. Kanst’s whiplike tail swung toward her and she skipped over it like a rope.
“Make sure no one gets in,” Kanst said to the guards. “I go to consult Zanzeroth.”
Kanst lumbered off into the night. Once the general was safely out of earshot, one of the guards muttered to another, “Going to consult that keg of goom in the hunter’s tent is more like it.”
Jandra slid between the gap in the tent flaps.
In the dim light she could barely see Pet lying prone on Kanst’s huge battle chest. Manacles held his arms and legs to the four corners of the lid, and a steel collar was fastened around his neck.
He lay still as death. Her heart sank.
But why would they bother to chain a dead man?
She moved closer until she could hear his breathing. She had expected to find him bruised and bloodied but he looked unharmed. Kanst apparently wanted his prize delivered in good health.
Becoming visible, she carefully placed her hand over his mouth as he slept. He stirred to wakefulness.
“It’s me,” she said. “Don’t be scared.”
“Jandra,” Pet whispered as she removed her hand. “What are you doing here? And what on earth have you done to your hair?”
“I’m not here to discuss grooming. I’ve come to rescue you.”
“Don’t,” Pet said. “I’ve made my choice.”
“Pretending you’re Bitterwood isn’t going to solve things. You saved the hostages for the moment but Albekizan’s death warrant on all humans is still in place. I need every ally I can muster. I want you free and fighting.”
“I’m no warrior,” Pet said. “We both know that. I’m only an actor, a pretender. I told you, if I could help people by acting, I would. Who knew I’d get my chance so soon? When they take me before Albekizan, I know he’ll kill me. Perhaps my death will assuage his anger. He might call off his order of genocide.”
“Or maybe you’ll have died in vain.”
“Your words of encouragement are a great comfort to me,” Pet said.
“Sorry. But you don’t have to die. I’m working on a plan to stop Albekizan.”
“How?”
“The first step is to rescue you. Then…” Jandra hoped for inspiration. It didn’t come. “To be honest, I’m still fleshing out the rest of the plan.”
“If you’re here, Vendevorex must have come to your way of thinking,” Pet said. “What help can I be compared to him?”
“Ven isn’t with me,” Jandra said.
“Oh. He didn’t pull through?”
“I’d rather not discuss it.”
“But, if Vendevorex-”
“Stop,” Jandra said, raising her hand. “I’m not here to discuss Vendevorex. I’m here to save you so you can help me in my fight to save mankind.”
“As an army of two?” Pet said. “I think I currently have the better plan.”
“When did you get so brave? I think I liked you better when you were-”
“Cowardly?” Pet interjected.
Jandra shrugged. “More protective of your self interests.”
“I didn’t do this for you. I told you, the villagers weren’t strangers to me. I’ve done what I could over the years to help them. And they… Well, some of them… some of the young women… have, um, been grateful.”
“What are you saying?”
“Chakthalla would never have allowed me to select a permanent mate from among the villagers but she couldn’t know everything I was up to. If I had allowed Kanst to slaughter the village children he might have been killing my offspring.”
Jandra’s heart sank. Of course, she should have known that he’d use his privileges and talents to seduce the village girls. He’d tried to bed her after ten minutes of conversation. She was shocked to find an icy vein of jealousy running through her body. Why? She didn’t have any romantic feelings for him, did she?
Pet seemed to sense her disappointment. “I’m sorry. I haven’t been a saint. Maybe what I’m doing will make up a little for the self-centered way I’ve lived. Don’t worry about me. This is just another performance, one last moment on the stage. You know I love being the center of attention.”
Jandra nodded. Her eyes blurred with tears. “You do what you have to,” she said, her voice wavering.
“Don’t cry.”
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“It’s okay,” Pet said. “But you need to go. Kanst could return at any time.”
“Good-bye,” Jandra said, leaning down and placing a kiss on Pet’s cheek.
“Good luck with your plan,” Pet said.
PET WATCHED JANDRA step away. A swirl of tiny stars engulfed her in the darkness, and when they fell away, she had vanished. Turning his eyes toward the door, he saw at last the flap sway aside before falling back. Only then did he let tears fill his own eyes. He’d done well playing brave before her. He prayed he could repeat the performance when he finally faced Albekizan.
JANDRA KNELT BESIDE the sleeping form of the real Bitterwood. He’d been silent all day, marching sullenly, looking as if he’d lost all will to live. First Pet decided to become a hero, then Bitterwood lost his will to fight. Were all human males this prone to mood swings? Ven had his faults but at least he was predictable.
Bitterwood lay so still she wondered for a second if he was dead. She could see the slightest movement of his chest, rising and falling beneath his threadbare clothing. His shirt was a mass of patches, stitches, and stains; it looked as if it hadn’t been laundered in months. Not even the humans that lived in the hovels around Albekizan’s palace had worn such rags. Furthermore, Bitterwood stank; he smelled of sweat, road dust, and dried blood. Holding her breath she reached out her hand to wake the sleeping dragonslayer. When her hand was still an inch from his shoulder he said, quietly, “I’m awake.”
“Good,” she whispered. “We need to talk.”
He continued to lay perfectly still, his eyes closed. He sighed, with breath ripened by rotting teeth, then said, “Say what you must.”
“I want to know what’s wrong with you. Twenty-four hours ago you were this cold-blooded dragon-slayer. Now, all day you’ve been shuffling around, blank-eyed, looking half dead. Are you faking this? Are you just waiting for the right moment to strike? Because if you are, I want to help.”
He waited a long moment before answering, “You should get some sleep.”
“In preparation for battle?” she said, hopefully. “You are planning to fight.”
“I’m planning on walking however far the dragons command us to walk tomorrow,” said Bitterwood.
“This isn’t like you,” she said.
He turned toward her voice and opened his eyes. He fixed his gaze upon her.
“You cannot judge me,” he said. “Long ago, I was taught that the greatest thing a man could do was to lay his life down for another. I was taught that if struck, I should turn the other cheek. If anyone harmed me, or trespassed against me, I was commanded to love and forgive them. Love and forgiveness were the greatest virtues. I believed these lies for almost a decade.”
“Why are love and forgiveness lies?” she asked, aware of the irony as she said it. She certainly had no intention of forgiving Vendevorex, or ever loving him again.
“I was taught that there was a god who loved us so much, he gave his own son in sacrifice. Imagine that foolishness… sacrificing your life to redeem others.”
“It sounds noble to me,” she said.
“As it did to me, once. Then I learned that the man who taught me these things wasn’t what I thought he was. I met him when I was young; I almost thought of him as a father. You can’t know how his betrayal wounded me.”
Jandra nodded. “I might have some idea.”
“After his betrayal, I vowed never to be weak again. There would be no love. There would be no forgiveness. I
