Pain coursed through her body when she tried to move, but if she remained motionless, the pain faded. Her thoughts were still chaotic but she witnessed enough and remembered enough to have a sense of time passing as she and her companions were lifted and carried toward a small rear gate in the wall.

Then she found her thoughts fleeing, then came darkness.

Jim crouched down behind the smallest of rocks, his cloak pulled over him, motionless. No doubt he was likely to be discovered in a moment, but he had an instinct for when to flee and when to remain still. Right now his “bump of trouble” was telling him to get as close to the ground as humanly possible. He could hear muffled voices and sensed some movement ten yards ahead.

He had felt more than seen the ambush, and his reaction had been to leap backward, away from the fight. It was not cowardice but caution that motivated him; he wanted to be sure no one was coming up from behind. Those three steps backward and ducking low as whoever threw the net at Magnus jumped down the side of the dry riverbank, saved him from detection. Something happened to Laromendis, but he couldn’t be certain. One moment the elven magic-user had been there, the next he wasn’t.

Jim had his dagger ready, but kept still. He waited until he could hear no sound, then risked peeking out from under his cloak.

The riverbed was empty.

He had heard the brief struggle and knew the instant Magnus went down without a sound they were overmatched. Whoever waited for them expected a powerful magician; he assumed the same magic trap prevented Sandreena from using her abilities, and the nets had quickly rendered both her and Kaspar unconscious.

Pug and Kaspar had been clear in their instructions to him; he was the last link to the outside world if all else failed, and given the level of power and talent in this reconnaissance, he considered himself a desperate choice.

He crouched low, willing to risk looking out from under his cloak, but not willing to risk moving just yet. Where was that elf?

Then he saw Laromendis move and suddenly the elf was standing before him. He turned and looked down at Jim and whispered, “They’re gone.”

Jim stood up and Laromendis reached out to touch his cloak. “That is impressive.”

“I’m good,” whispered the noble-turned-thief-turned-spy, “but I’m not that good. This didn’t come cheaply. The artificer who wove it for me called it his ‘cloak of blending,’ and I suspect it uses magic similar to your own.” He looked around for any sign of lingering danger. “What just happened?”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” whispered the elf. “They were lying in wait. They knew we had magic-users with us, and they were ready.”

“They knew we were coming.”

“Apparently. What troubles me is how the ambush was executed.”