her had a sword almost four feet long in the blade. His horizontal, two-handed
cut took her in the small of the back and bisected her navel on the way out.
The troopers had approached dismounted, of course. Even so, they had shown
abnormal skill for cavalrymen in creeping up among the ruins. There was no way
of telling how many of them there were, but it was certainly more than the squad
that had made the arrests that morning. Lights began to flare, dark lanterns
like Samlor’s own still hissing in the tunnel below.
The red-garbed Beysib bawled in horror and tried to enfold Star in his cloak, as
if that would serve as any protection from what was about to happen. Samlor
smashed the Beysib down with the dagger’s hilt to his forehead, not from mercy,
but because the point might have caught and held the weapon for moments the
Cirdonian did not have to lose. Samlor grabbed the screaming child by the
shoulder and spun for the tunnel mouth.
A Beysib cavalryman leaped from the crumbling wall. He was aiming a kick at
Samlor’s head.
The angle was different, but too many camels had launched feet at the caravan
master for Samlor to be caught unprepared. The boot slashed by his ear as he
pivoted. The Beysib’s sword was cocked for a blow that the fellow had to hold
until he landed, or he risked lopping off his own feet. The long weapon did
nothing to keep the Beysib’s momentum from impaling him on the Cirdonian dagger.
Samlor slipped the hilt as it punched home. He tossed Star to the trap door and
rammed her through as he jumped in himself.