Ricko Daggerheart's Arc

Chapter 4 of 18

Ricko was saddling his lizard behind the tavern when T'Zaro appeared at his shoulder. "They found the trail," the panther said. He kept his voice low. "A patrol. They followed your tracks to this place. If they see your face, we all hang." Ricko's hands froze on the strap. Through the gap between wall and cactus, he counted the shapes. Four riders, dismounting. The lead man wore desert armor, sun-worn plates over cloth, a scarf slung across one shoulder. He moved like someone who had checked a hundred waystations. He crouched, touched the ground, and pointed straight at the tavern door. "That's their tracker," T'Zaro murmured. "Huskar. He doesn't quit." Ricko reached for his knife. T'Zaro caught his wrist. "No. You fight, you die, and the jewel stays on the sultan's crown forever." He glanced at the mount, then at Ricko's spotted face. "Take the lizard. Ride the moment they're inside. I'll give you the moment." "They'll cut you down," Ricko said. "They'll see a panther, not a hyena." T'Zaro's green eyes flicked toward the door. "I'm a face they don't want. You're the one they came for." He pushed a folded scarf into Ricko's paw. "Cover the spots. Go when you hear me." Ricko pulled the scarf across his muzzle and swung onto the lizard. He held it still behind the palms and the dry brush, his heart loud in his ears. Sand hissed under the beast's claws. T'Zaro walked out into the open. He whistled, sharp and bright. "Looking for someone, soldiers?" The tracker's head snapped up. "Palace business. Stand aside." "Palace business found my hideout once." T'Zaro drew both knives and spun one lazily. "Come collect the debt." Huskar barked an order. All four guards turned toward the panther and drew steel. They forgot the tavern. They forgot the field behind it. T'Zaro darted left, forcing them to follow, drawing them away from the wall like water pulled downhill. Ricko dug his heels in. The lizard bolted from cover. It tore across the raked field in a spray of grit, past the cactus and the sun-bleached stones. A shout went up behind him. "There! The mount!" Huskar wheeled around, but T'Zaro slid into his path and slashed. The soldier stumbled back. By the time he found his feet, Ricko was a shrinking shape against the dunes. No guard on foot could catch a lizard. Ricko rode hard and did not look back until the tavern was gone. Only then did he pull the scarf down and gulp the dry air. He had slipped the patrol. But he rode alone now, hours ahead of the crew, and T'Zaro was behind him among four blades. The panther had bought his escape with his own skin. Ricko turned the lizard toward the meeting place and prayed the assassin lived to reach it. The full moon would not wait, and neither would the men Huskar answered to.