:Mags, Nikolas says that is a very dangerous man, some sort of highly trained killer. He can easily fight all five of you at once, and if he thinks you are going to win, he’ll kill Bear.:

:But—!:

:Don’t worry, we have a plan. All we need you five to do is to fight him, distract him, get him as far away from Bear as you can. And stay alive! He’ll concentrate on the one he thinks is weakest, that will be you. So your job is to be the lure, drawing him away from Bear. The Guards are to keep coming at him, but never let him close with them. Have you got that?:

Mags motioned to the others to put their heads together with him. Carefully, Mags thought those instructions into the heads of the Guardsmen as hard as he could, staring into their eyes. All four of them nodded slowly. The redhead pointed at Mags, and mouthed the word “bait.” Relieved, Mags nodded.

:Tell them the weapons might be poisoned.:

Gulping, Mags did so. The big man looked angry, the redhead narrowed his eyes, the third shrugged, and the fourth smiled grimly.

Mags looked at the fourth curiously. The man stared back at him, hard. Slowly, Mags sensed a thin mental voice. It won’t be the first time we’ve handled cowards of that sort, boy. You just see to it that you don’t get scratched.

Mags nodded.

:All right. We are getting something in place. Stand up carefully and wait for my signal.:

They got to their feet, one at a time, so slowly and carefully that even their clothing didn’t whisper. And they waited in the semidarkness, Mags feeling ready to scream with the tension, as a tuneless humming threaded its way toward them from the back of the room.

Finally—

:Now. But don’t charge him. Walk out until he can just see five of you, but not who you are. And let him hear your footsteps.:

Mags relayed that. And at his signal, they moved forward, soft footfalls muffled by the shelves and boxes all around them. They rounded the last shelf to find the strange man on his feet, waiting for them, a knife balanced on the tip of one finger.

:Now you step into the light, Mags.:

Mags did so, his hand clutched to his sword hilt.

The man stared at him.

“Not YOU!” he screamed. “YOU are not supposed to be here!”

He threw the knife, but Mags was already anticipating the action, and ducked back behind the shelf. The knife thudded into the wall and stuck there, quivering, as the man grabbed a handful more, and sent them flashing after the first. Mags showed himself just long enough for the man to see he was untouched, then jumped back into shelter again.