Wild Magic

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Reyna ran between the warehouses. If he could reach the water, there was still a chance…

He heard a scrape behind him, tried to throw himself aside, but something crashed into his head, he saw blackness filled with jagged lines and dots of white light, then nothing…

The Amrapake got to his feet, waved his guard back, and went to stand gazing down at the chaos below, his face impassive. “Worthless,” he said. “I stand by my word.” He turned his head, glanced at the boys, then at the men holding them. “Do it,” he said.

The guards cut Sivvy’s throat first, then Houen’s and threw them from the roof.

Fuaz Yoyote swallowed nervously, stared at the roof tiles as if not-seeing could keep the same from happening to him.

Famtoche snapped his fingers and the hosts moved back; when there was a clear space around him, he beckoned to Fuaz Yoyote. “Here, Worm.”

An ashy look to his skin, the tip of his tongue fluttering along dry lips, the Manasso Prime hastened to the Amrapake’s side, bobbing in a series of jerky bows. “Heshim Amrap.”

Famtoche pursed his lips, watching him from narrowed eyes. Then he smiled. “I don’t interfere in the internal affairs of the Camuctarr,” he murmured. Yoyote’s eyes flicked up then he went back to staring at the roof tiles. “Bat if you don’t mind a little practical advice, Manasso, this would be a good time to revise the… ah… authority structure. After this… ah… debacle, I expect you won’t have much difficulty dealing with the… ah… present High Kasso.”

Breathing raggedly, Yoyote bowed lower. “I hear, heshim Amrap. It will be done.”