Teri McLaren
Yob. "They'll come back again. Canistas are a worthy enemy. They never give up."
"Neither do I, Yob. We'll play until we win," said Cheyne, wiping the dark, sticky blood from his dagger and hands. "Come on."
They found favin with Doulos crouched protectively over him, quietly weeping. Javin appeared to have lost a lot of blood from several bites, Javin was calling for his son. Cheyne bent over him, straining to hear what his foster father was saying.
"Cheyne… I thought I would never see you again. Are you safe?"
"Yes, very safe. And so are you, now, Javin."
"1 found him… the Collector."
Cheyne smiled, his ears alert for the canistas. "I'm glad, Javin."
"There is something you must know." Javin's breathing had suddenly become shallow and far too fast.
"What's wrong with him? He's not hurt that badly." Cheyne clutched at Doulos as he ground out the words. Doulos pointed to Javin's exposed arm, where the poison had advanced up to his shoulder.
"He says it was the Raptor. He followed you because you are in terrible danger," said Doulos, his face bleak in the starlight. Cheyne let the slave go and bent closer to hear, hoping Javin had the strength to say what he intended.
"The caravan. You were right, Cheyne, I never told you… all. But if I had, the way I hid you from him would never have worked. I was on my way to the forest with that caravan to dig for the Collector. When the Raptor came, you were bringing water to the animals. One of the droms had loosened its hobbles, and you had gone far afield to find it. By the time you returned, the Raptor's agent, an elf with a scar across his cheek, had killed everyone but me. But he didn't know about you. That day, when you came back from the wood, I took you and hid you from him.
"Your amulet… for centuries, we have passed it