Three Slices by Kevin Hearne & Delilah S. Dawson & Chuck Wendig

Author:Kevin Hearne & Delilah S. Dawson & Chuck Wendig
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub, pdf
Tags: General Fiction
Published: 2015-05-05T07:00:00+00:00

6.

THEY’RE WAITING for me, and I can only hope I don’t stink of cheese. No man who is master of his fate should ever reek of cheese. A dab of powder from pocket number eighty-two renders me odorless, and I’m dabbing cologne from pocket eighty-three against my pulse as I near the crowd.

“Wizard duel at eight o’clock sharp,” Bailey screeches over the speaker. “See some rude and foppish young upstart battle Phaedro the Great! An extra copper buys a stageside seat.”

Sure enough, the mad fools have set up a corral of velvet ropes around a stage. The wagon behind it is indigo blue, the stage uneven and lined inexpertly with steel-cupped lanterns. No one has noticed my approach, as they’re all focused on a gold-and-blue sarcophagus standing upright in the middle of the stage, its arms crossed and its eyes unblinking.

I draw in a deep breath and shake my head as I take on my mantle of power. At just the right moment, I throw out my arms and appear in a puff of smoke, my face set in wicked determination.

As if on cue, the crowd turns to me and gasps, parting before me like the Red Sea, the sarcophagus utterly forgotten. I stalk through and among them, cape billowing, head down at the angle between glorious and furious. Near the front of the stage, Merissa stands, arms crossed, inscrutable as ever in a deep red gown that displays the perfect curve of her neck and shoulders. If I look at her too long, I’ll lose focus, so I merely raise a dark, dashing eyebrow at her and leap to the stage in a swirl of black and emerald, cutting through a puff of lavender smoke.

The crowd applauds and whistles, and for just a moment, I know a daimon’s hunger for attention and adulation as I drink in their wonder.

A spotlight cuts to the blue and gold sarcophagus as tinny music rumbles over the speaker, and the crowd turns to gape at the papier mâché coffin that surely holds my rival. Before he can do whatever he has planned, I plant a boot firmly in the thing’s chest and kick it to the ground, where it crumples and reveals a neat hole cut in the boards. Phaedro’s head pokes up like an idiot mole, and I have to stop myself from kicking his face off his spindly neck like a bloody football. I toss a packet onto the sarcophagus and it catches fire, glowing green and throwing sparks. In moments, the gaudy prop is completely gone.

“Your turn,” I say, throwing out a dramatic arm, and Phaedro disappears in his own puff of smoke as the curtains swoop closed.

“Show-off.” Merissa has somehow hopped onto the stage in her voluminous skirts. “That wasn’t fair.”

“Of course it wasn’t fair, love. It’s a duel. Please tell me you’re not his assistant.” I check through my pockets, palm a few possibilities. “I’ve more respect for your horses than a ninny like the Great Phaedro.”

“You’ve been here less than a day, Stain.

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