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object was being thrown, and time enough to turn his head. Instead of the chain knife striking the exposed windpipe, veins and arteries, the knife pierced the muscles in the side of the man’s neck and bit in deeply. Cooper knew that this was not the lethal blow he needed. Now he would need to use the chain knife to pull the Spymaster off balance and slash a blade across his throat. He might need to drop one of the blades from his left hand to accomplish that. He was still in mid-leap when the female grabbed the oldest man and yelled, “Strike!” Suddenly a blinding flash of power erupted from the old man and Cooper felt something similar to heat strike him on his right side. All the hair on his body felt like it was standing straight out and his vision went white. “Holy shit!!” he thought, “Have they killed me?!” The energy that he felt rush through him burned like molten steel, but faster than a blink of an eye it was gone. He felt it enter through his right side, rip through his body and exit his right hand. His vision returned immediately. Before his feet touched the ground, he’d seen Aporigh’s eyes go dull as the man’s body stiffened and then crumpled. Cooper couldn’t even feel the fingers on his right hand, but he could see that he still held the chain. He pulled on it. As Cooper yanked his chain knife free, he knew the Spymaster was already dead. How he’d been killed was something he didn’t care to stay long enough to learn. His thoughts felt scattered. Disorganized. But he remembered he needed to leave his message with the Spymaster and dropped the chain knife, letting it fall to the ground. It took longer than it should have to fumble with insensate fingers and find the tube. When he finally dropped the Courier tube, he could hear the mages trying to organize themselves. He focused his remaining energy to his legs and scrambled out of the open area as quickly as his legs could carry him, dragging his chain knife unceremoniously behind him for several steps until he gathered up the first few feet of the chain. He was sure he’d already spent this night’s allotment of luck, if there was such a thing. He just needed to be somewhere else, anywhere else, quickly. For all he knew, the mages were already preparing a second magical strike.

*****

Iona rushed to the body of her fallen employer. Emmit arrived well before her and had knelt down. By the time she got there, Emmit was already rising back to his feet. He didn’t speak. He merely shook his head and placed a consoling hand on her shoulder as she drew alongside him. Her senses were still on fire; more from the power of the blinding arc that had flashed across the vacant lot, ultimately killing Yoren, than from their collective Talent usage. That sensation had struck her all the harder since she’d opened herself up in order to absorb as much information as she could while Cooper was Channeling.

The professor appeared dumbstruck, looking from Wen, to Yoren, to Iona and back to Wen. His facial expressions running the gamut of amazement, uncertainty, expectation, and curiosity; in that order. If circumstances were different, she might even find humor in the fact that he revealed so much of his thoughts while not saying a word. It ran contradictory to everything she knew about the man.

Iona knelt and collected the Courier tube, feeling the tingle that she knew she would from the contact. The professor managed to gather his wits and he rushed off in the direction Cooper had run. No one followed him. The man paused when he reached the first building, past the edge of the vacant lot, and he turned to face the others, “Well?! Let’s go after him!” He turned to Iona and bellowed, “You’re a Hunter! Where is he?! Lead me to him!” The other mages didn’t move. Most of them were staring at Wen. For her part, Wen looked uncomfortable and was trying to give the appearance of being as small as she could manage. Iona replied to the professor in a clear voice, “Sir, you should certainly know by now that it doesn’t work that way. Besides, considering what we’ve just witnessed, what do you really believe would happen if you caught up with him? Anyway, my Talent doesn’t grant me speed and Cooper has stopped Channeling.” She held up the copper tube, “His ‘signature’ ends here.”

A look of frustration and fury crossed the professor’s face and he surged toward her. She had felt him build his power and knew he was coming. Her response was prepared and as her power built up, the residual moisture in the air made the space between them become foggy. As the professor entered the chill, he stopped, “You dare?!” He glanced down to the corpse at her feet and a cruel smile crossed his face, “The Spymaster is dead. You’re mine again.” Iona felt a moment of panic as she lowered the tube she had raised, the label catching her notice. A burst of relief pierced the cloud of dread but not enough to make her smile. She replied, “In truth, sir, I have been in the employ of the Prince. Yoren Aporigh has been my boss, my supervisor, my keeper. If you wish to dispute this, you may accompany me now as I report the death of the Royal Spymaster and deliver this message. It’s addressed to the Prince.”

The professor’s face went dark and he sputtered, “You know I can’t very well arrive unannounced unless I’ve been summoned!” Iona smiled and bluffed, “I can announce you
after I’ve delivered this message.” The professor had already turned his attention to Wendalia, demanding, “What exactly did you do to me?! I’ve never had the power to throw lightning before!” Wen’s expression

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