Sandstorm

important to him. “She lives? The minotaur woman who led the attack-she escaped you?”

Mattias answered. “Aye. And retreated south toward the mountains, running fast and alone. Tobin took her measure, and she’ll not forget him. But I am glad she fled, and I hope never to face her again.”

Cephas sat, feelings of relief and unease and bewilderment warring inside.

Whitey spoke. “What do you mean, ‘our sponsor in this business,’ Ringmaster?” There was an edge to his voice Cephas had not heard before.

“Old friend,” Corvus said, and Whitey shocked them all by savagely cutting his hand across his chest. He knew how to stand in for the kenku in the ring, and he knew the kenku’s means of imposing quiet.

“Employee,” he said. “I am your employee, Corvus, in a circus. Your other activities, all the shadow games those of you sitting here get up to, you know they’re no secret to me. I knew what the score was when I signed my family on, and I signed anyway, because you pay well and you have access to routes nobody else does. But most importantly, Corvus, because you swore, you swore to me, that our worlds would not intersect. You swore to me that my family would never be in danger because of something you did.”

There was a long silence. Then Corvus sighed. “Whitey, the attack last night, Melda’s wounds, they cannot be blamed-”

And this time it was Mattias who interrupted, though he required only a soft word to silence Corvus.

“No,” he said. “No, Corvus. He is right. We set no fires, we put our hands on no axes, but he is right. Nine Hells, I don’t know half of what you’re stirring up right now myself, but I do know that Candle and Kip and the others would be breaking down the tent right now if we were nothing more than circus performers.”

Corvus did not immediately respond. He waited so long to speak that the silence, uncomfortable to begin with, grew almost desperate. Cephas searched his memories for some experience that would offer succor or solution, but found nothing. There was too much he did not know.

Finally, Corvus said, “If we were nothing but circus performers, Candasa and Kip would be buried on their father’s farm in the grainlands north of Elturel”-Whitey started to stand, but Corvus had suffered the last interruption he would countenance-“dead like their parents from plague in the Year of the Second Circle.”

Whitey, unimpressed, held his hands wide, shaking his head.

Corvus spoke on. “If we were nothing more than circus performers, then Tobin Tok Tor would still be haunting the Riftedge, chased by dwarf patrols and clanless.

“And wouldn’t Melda, your wife, Whitey, have died with her sisters and their herds if we had not come across her fighting druid-fettered wolves all alone?”

Only Cephas and, he noticed, the Akanulan Ariella Kulmina, still watched Corvus, who had risen to his feet and circled the campfire. All the veterans of the circus stared at the ground.

“I have broken no vows. And I have gone far beyond the requirements of our covenant. Our worlds will not intersect? I said no such thing, Whitey. I promised to protect you and yours from the shadows that haunt this spell-blasted, god-torn, tyrant’s playground of a world, and I have done that. I have done that more than any of you know. Any of you.” The last three words he said standing before Mattias.

“And now I will do still more. When the sun sets, I will accompany this woman back to Almraiven. The WeavePasha will open a portal. Some of you will accompany me. The rest will stay here until Melda is recovered. Then Whitey will lead the circus north in rebadged wagons.”

The clown was confused. “I had no intention-”

“I suggest you make for Cormyr. I have a legitimate-looking Player’s Writ packed away somewhere, so you’ll not have to pay their fees. With luck, you should cross the Bridge of Fallen Men in time for the autumn fetes and festivals.”

Whitey said, “You are giving me your circus, Corvus?”

Corvus said, “For a time. I may one day reclaim it. I make no promises.”

There was no humor in Whitey’s answering laugh. “I will go and speak with Melda and Blue, then.” He looked at the others. “All of you are welcome to come with us. All of you should.” With that, he left.

Corvus took his seat. “He’s right, of course. Make no mistake, the attack last night was not made on the order of a one-horned she-minotaur. And yes, Mattias, I know more than I have told you, just as always. The minotaurs came for our newest member and were sent by people whose enmity I never sought. But if you go with Whitey, Cephas, you’ll draw other attacks.”

Cephas did not understand what possible link he might have to the tragedy that had befallen them. “I will go with you, Corvus,” he said. “But I have done nothing I know of to cause this. My only enemies are those I bested on the canvas at Jazeerijah, and Azad and the other freedmen, I suppose.”

“You suppose,” Corvus said with a chuckling sound. “ ‘A slave is always the enemy of his master,’ ” he said.

Cephas pursed his lips. “I know that saying. Or I have heard something very like it.”

The windsouled woman spoke, her accent strange, but her words clear and voiced in tones that reminded Cephas of bells-specifically of the bells that jingled on a weapon harness. “It’s from one of those old stories the humans of Calimshan valued so highly. I read hundreds of them in Akanul before we came south, in preparation for our meetings with the WeavePasha.”

“Not Bashan Reaver,” said Cephas. “Another one.”

The woman shrugged. “There are dozens of escaped slave narratives in the Book of Founding Stories, the histories, the songs. They all end the same way.”

Cephas thought about that for a moment. “The slave always dies gloriously, or else goes back to his master to better the lives of his friends still in chains.” He paused, sifting through the implications of what she said. Surely there was some exception.… “I never thought of it,” he eventually admitted, “but Azad never told a story that ended with a slave alive and free.”

The woman sniffed. “Of course not. That’s the whole point. Who is Azad? A genasi slaver of the Skyfire Emirates?”

“A human,” Corvus answered for Cephas. “An escaped slave himself, and a man whose motivations have proven unknowable thus far. Especially his motive in bringing Cephas out of the desert.”

“Is that why these people seek me?” asked Cephas. “Was I the property of some other genasi who wishes to retrieve me after all this time?”

“Something very like that,” said Corvus. “To be honest, I cannot be sure. I believe you to be connected to the windsouled families who rule the city of Calimport, and have sought proof of that in the Herald’s records in Saradush and by consulting with the Elder Lin, who has great expertise in the szuldar lines of the earthsouled clans. The Calimien are the great enemies of the humans ruled by the WeavePasha, and he has long sought some leverage to use in his endless negotiations staving off war. Word came to me of a genasi living with slaves escaped from Calimport, and I sent Mattias to investigate. The rest, you know.”

Cephas shook his head. The kenku had dodged answering fully again by offering crumbs of truth. He was sure there was more.

But Corvus continued. “And what you don’t know, what we all need to know, can be learned from the WeavePasha himself now that he is forced into the game. The human has extraordinary resources, and his magics are among the greatest of his race.”

For some reason he couldn’t name, Cephas turned to Ariella for guidance, though of all these people-who grew more mysterious the longer he knew them-he knew her the least.

The woman shrugged. “He is a powerful sorcerer. He has powerful enemies.”

Cephas nodded. “I have already said I’ll go with you, Corvus.” And I’ll find out who the horned woman is, he thought, and what you have not told me.

Corvus looked to the others, though he need only have looked to Mattias. Cynda would follow Shan, and of all the circus folk, Shan was the most unquestioning in her loyalty to the kenku. Tobin watched Mattias, though Cephas would have guessed his heart told him to follow his fellow clowns.

“Well, old man,” asked Corvus, “will Trill be ready to move? The WeavePasha knows to weave his gate large enough for her to pass through.”

Exhaustion hung over Mattias. He looked, thought Cephas, so very old.