The leader recovered himself, stepped back into the lamplight. “I’m doin’ a bit of countin’ ’ere. Twelve of us. One of you and a nutter for a horse.” He pointed the knife. “Though when my lads are finished, your little pet won’t be good for anything but steak pie. And you, softy southerner, we’ll be ‘appy to shave a few pounds off, if you get my drift!”

Petronio did. He swung one leg out of its stirrup and over the saddle, slipping off the horse and landing easily on the ground. He continued holding the leader’s stare, not letting his eyes drop for one second. It was a game he was playing, with the highest stakes.

“I’ve an idea about you,” Petronio answered. “Without this lot as backup, you’d be squitting yourself right now.” He turned to address the rest of the gang. “Isn’t that what cowards do? Surround themselves with fawning acolytes?”

The words went over their heads, but the gist was more than clear. The leader didn’t like it. A stranger giving him lip, showing him up in front of his mates. He couldn’t have that, could he? He’d be laughed at all the way through Moss-side. Carving obscenities in wood was one thing. But now it was time to carve his name into the pompous prat’s face.

“Go on, Flinty!”

“Have him good!”

“Stick him!”

The crowd was eager for their leader to put the stranger firmly in his place.

With a howl of anger, the boy came for Petronio, knife hand slicing through the air.

It was exactly what the surgeon’s apprentice expected. After all, he was his father’s son. Scalpels weren’t his only specialty. Instead of toys, his father’s thugs had given him miniature knives to play with from an early age, teaching him all the classic street moves: feint, parry, double bluff. It was like a poker game, really, only a shade more physical. Make the other side think you’ve got a weak hand. Then, Bam!

Instinct kicked in. As the knife came toward him, held in his enemy’s left hand, Petronio noticed and instantly analyzed his opponent’s classic mistake.

The other boy was so keen to attack, he’d forgotten that extending one side of his body left the other totally vulnerable.

As the boy overextended himself, nearly losing his balance, Petronio easily swerved out of the way, then pushed up hard with his haunches. Impact was instant, completely throwing his attacker off balance.

“What?” squawked the leader in shock, as his own knife clattered harmlessly off the edge of the branch.

Even as the word left his mouth, Petronio completed the maneuver, pulling the boy’s hair savagely so that his head was forced back, exposing his neck to the short but lethal blade that now zoomed like an arrow straight toward the soft flesh.