The Demon King. Cinda Williams Chima

and see where it gets you, Han thought. He unslung his bow and nocked an arrow, aiming at Bayar’s chest. “Hey, Micah,” he said. “How about this? Shut it or I shoot.”

      Bayar squinted at Han, as if once again surprised to see him. Perhaps realizing he would, indeed, be dead before he could finish the hex, the wizard released his grip on the amulet and raised his hands.

      At the sight of Han’s bow, Miphis and Arkeda pawed at the hilts of their swords. But Dancer nocked his own arrow, and the boys let go and raised their hands as well.

      “Smart move,” Han said, nodding. “I’m guessing jinxes are slower than arrows.”

      “You tried to murder me,” Bayar said to Dancer, as if amazed that such a thing could happen. “Do you realize who I am? My father is High Wizard, counselor to the queen. When he finds out what you did…”

      “Why don’t you run back to Gray Lady and tell him all about it?” Dancer said, jerking his head toward the downslope trail. “Go on. You don’t belong here. Get off the mountain. Now.”

      Bayar didn’t want to back off with his two friends as witnesses. “Just remember,” he said softly, fingering his amulet, “it’s a long way down the mountain. Anything can happen along the way.”

      Bones, Han thought. He’d been ambushed too many times in the streets and alleyways of Fellsmarch. He knew enough about bullies to recognize the trait in Bayar. This boy would hurt them if he could, and he wouldn’t play fair doing it.

      Keeping his bowstring tight, Han pointed his chin at the wizard. “You. Take off your jinxpiece,” he ordered. “Throw it down on the ground.”

      “This?” Bayar touched the evil-looking jewel that hung around his neck. When Han nodded, the boy shook his head. “You can’t be serious,” he snarled, closing his fist around it. “Do you know what this is?”

      “I have an idea,” Han said. He gestured with the bow. “Take it off and throw it down.”

      Bayar sat frozen, his face going pale. “You can’t use this, you know,” he said, looking from Han to Dancer. “If you even touch it, you’ll be incinerated.”

      “We’ll take our chances,” Dancer said, glancing over at Han.

      The charmcaster’s eyes narrowed. “You’re nothing more than thieves, then,” he sneered. “I should have known.”

      “Use your head,” Han said. “What would I do with truck like that? I just don’t want to have to be looking over my shoulder all the way home.”

      Arkeda leaned in toward Bayar and muttered in Valespeech, “Better give it to him. You know what they say about the copperheads. They’ll cut your throat and drink your blood and feed you to their wolves so no one will ever find your bones.”

      Miphis nodded vigorously. “Or they’ll use us in rituals. They’ll burn us alive. Sacrifice us to their goddesses.”

      Han clenched his jaw, struggling to keep the surprise and amusement off his face. It seemed the jinxflingers had their own reasons to fear the clan.

      “I can’t give it to them, you idiot,” Bayar hissed. “You know why. If my father finds out I took it, we’ll all be punished.”

      “I told you not to take it,” Arkeda muttered. “I told you it was a bad idea. Just because you want to impress Princess Raisa…”

      “You know I wouldn’t have taken it if we were allowed to have our own,” Bayar said. “It was the only one I…What are you looking at?” he demanded, noticing Han and Dancer’s interest in the conversation and maybe realizing for the first time that they understood the flatlander language.

      “I’m looking at someone who’s already in trouble and getting in deeper,” Han said. “Now, drop the amulet.”

      Bayar glared at Han as if actually seeing him for the first time. “You’re not even clan. Who are you?”

      Han knew better than to hand his name to an enemy. “They call me Shiv,” he said, fishing a name out of memory. “Streetlord of Southbridge.”

      “Shiv, you say.” The wizard tried to stare him down, but his gaze kept sliding away. “It’s strange. There’s something…You seem…” His voice trailed off as if he’d lost track of the thought.

      Han sighted down the shaft of his arrow, feeling sweat trickling down between his shoulder blades. If Bayar wouldn’t give, he’d have to figure out what to do next. Just then, he had no clue. “I’ll count to five,” he said, hanging on to his street face. “Then I put an arrow through your neck. One.”

      With a quick, vicious movement, Bayar yanked the chain over his head and tossed the amulet onto the ground. It clanked softly as it landed.

      “Just try to pick it up,” the charmcaster said, leaning forward in his saddle. “I dare you.”

      Han looked from Bayar to the jinxpiece, unsure whether to believe him or not.

      “Go on! Get out of here!” Dancer said. “I reckon you’d better think about how you’re going to put that fire out. If you don’t, I guarantee the queen won’t be happy, whether she asked you to start it or not.”

      Bayar stared at him for a moment, lips twitching with unspoken words. Then he wrenched his mount’s head around and drove his heels into the horse’s sides. Horse and rider charged downslope as if they were, in fact, trying to catch the fire.

      Arkeda stared after him, then turned to Dancer, shaking his head. “You fools! How is he supposed to put it out without the amulet?” He wheeled his horse, and the two wizards followed Bayar at a slightly less reckless pace.

      “I hope he breaks his neck,” Dancer muttered, staring after the three charmcasters.

      Han let out his breath and released the tension on his bow, slinging it across his shoulder. “What was all that about your Vale name? Have you met Bayar before?”

      Dancer jammed his arrow back in his quiver. “Where would I meet a jinxflinger?”

      “Why did he say what he did about your father?” Han persisted. “How does he know that…”

      “How should I know?” Dancer said, his face hard and furious. “Forget about it. Let’s go.”

      Obviously Dancer didn’t want to talk about it. Fine, Han thought. He had no room to complain. He had enough secrets of his own.

      “What about this thing?” Han squatted and studied the jinxpiece warily, afraid to touch it. “Do you think he was bluffing?” He looked up at Dancer, who was watching from a safe distance. “I mean, do you think they need this thing to put the fire out?”

      “Just leave it,” Dancer said, shuddering. “Let’s get out of here.”

      “That jinxflinger didn’t want to give this thing up,” Han mused. “Must be valuable.” Han knew traders of magical pieces in Ragmarket. He’d dealt with them a time or two when he worked the street. A taking like this could pay the rent for a year.

      You’re not a thief. Not anymore. If he said it often enough, it just might stick.

      But he couldn’t let it lie. There was something malevolent yet fascinating about the amulet. Power emanated from it like heat from a stove on a cold day. It warmed his front, making the rest of him feel colder by comparison.

      Using a stick, he lifted the amulet by its chain. It dangled, spinning hypnotically in the sunlight, a green translucent stone cunningly carved into a snarl of serpents with ruby eyes. The staff was topped with a brilliant round-cut diamond larger than he’d ever seen, and the snake’s eyes were blood red rubies.

      Han had dealt in jewelry from time to time, and he could tell the craftsmanship was exquisite and the stones were prime quality. But the lure of the piece