them.
Looking back toward the Temple, Jinx could see the red-robed people on the porch, watching.
“Get ready to run,” Simon said in Urwish. He stood up slowly without breaking the gaze that held some of his enemies immobilized.
Jinx had never been more ready to run in his life.
He heard a clatter of hoofbeats, and in far less time than seemed possible after the sound, armored men on horses came pouring down a road into the square. The crowd scattered ahead of them. Simon grabbed Jinx’s arm and ran straight toward the onrushing army.
Straight toward the horsemen? That was crazy! Jinx tried not to follow. He tried to drag his feet, but Simon kept pulling him onward, and Jinx didn’t dare fall down for fear of the horses trampling him to death. Then the horses were around him and Simon. There was no smell of horseflesh and nothing touched them.
“Illusion,” Jinx said aloud.
“Shut up and run,” Simon panted.
They ran, and after a minute or two they heard running footsteps behind them. Simon’s illusion of the horsemen hadn’t lasted, or the crowd had realized it was an illusion. They turned down one street, and then another.
Jinx didn’t recognize anything familiar about the street, but Simon ran up to a blue-violet door and opened it. Then they were inside, back in the dusty, unused sitting room, and Simon slammed the door shut and fell against it, and they both stood gasping for breath.
11
Matters of Life and Death
J inx recovered his breath first. “What was—”
“You idiot!” Simon was still leaning against the door. “How did you—how did you—” He was too out of breath to continue.
“I’m not an idiot,” said Jinx. “That was the place Sophie comes from. Samara. Where was it?”
He knew it was through the door. But now they were back in Simon’s house, which was in the Urwald, which Samara most definitely was not.
“Go. Into the house.” Simon spoke through clenched teeth.
“Can I look at these books?”
Simon didn’t answer, and Jinx decided not to press the point.
He came to the blank wall, reached out for the door, and opened it.
“How did you do that?” Simon demanded behind him. His tight-sounding voice scared Jinx.
“I know it’s there,” said Jinx.
Simon didn’t answer, and Jinx walked fast to the kitchen, wanting to get away. Simon hardly ever got really angry at Jinx, not like this. Usually he was just cranky.
Out in the kitchen, Jinx was headed straight for the front door when Simon said, “Jinx, come here.”
Something in his voice didn’t sound right. Jinx stopped and turned around. Simon was sitting on the stove steps.
“Take a look at this and tell me how bad it is,” Simon said.
Jinx had a sudden cold wave of dread, as if he’d just swallowed ice. There was a steady line of dark-red drips along the floor from the passageway to the step where Simon sat. Jinx went over to Simon, who was trying to point to a spot on his back just below his shoulder. Reluctantly, fearing what he would see, Jinx looked. There was a spreading stain on the back of Simon’s purple robe.
“I—can’t tell. You’ll have to take it off,” said Jinx. His voice sounded as loud and strange as it had inside the Temple of Knowledge. Reality seemed to have been sucked out of the room.
“Pull this sleeve for me.”
Jinx pulled on the sleeve, helping Simon out of the top of his robe. The shirt he wore underneath it was drenched with blood.
“I—I guess I should cut your shirt off,” said Jinx.
“Press that sleeve against the wound first. See if you can stop the bleeding.”
Jinx wadded up a sleeve of the purple robe and pressed it against where he thought the blood was coming from, right under Simon’s left shoulder blade. Jinx had seen pictures of the insides of people in one of Simon’s books. Did wizards have hearts in the same place as normal people?
“Press harder,” said Simon.
Jinx did. Blood was soaking through onto his hand. He wanted to go back
Looking back toward the Temple, Jinx could see the red-robed people on the porch, watching.
“Get ready to run,” Simon said in Urwish. He stood up slowly without breaking the gaze that held some of his enemies immobilized.
Jinx had never been more ready to run in his life.
He heard a clatter of hoofbeats, and in far less time than seemed possible after the sound, armored men on horses came pouring down a road into the square. The crowd scattered ahead of them. Simon grabbed Jinx’s arm and ran straight toward the onrushing army.
Straight toward the horsemen? That was crazy! Jinx tried not to follow. He tried to drag his feet, but Simon kept pulling him onward, and Jinx didn’t dare fall down for fear of the horses trampling him to death. Then the horses were around him and Simon. There was no smell of horseflesh and nothing touched them.
“Illusion,” Jinx said aloud.
“Shut up and run,” Simon panted.
They ran, and after a minute or two they heard running footsteps behind them. Simon’s illusion of the horsemen hadn’t lasted, or the crowd had realized it was an illusion. They turned down one street, and then another.
Jinx didn’t recognize anything familiar about the street, but Simon ran up to a blue-violet door and opened it. Then they were inside, back in the dusty, unused sitting room, and Simon slammed the door shut and fell against it, and they both stood gasping for breath.
11
Matters of Life and Death
J inx recovered his breath first. “What was—”
“You idiot!” Simon was still leaning against the door. “How did you—how did you—” He was too out of breath to continue.
“I’m not an idiot,” said Jinx. “That was the place Sophie comes from. Samara. Where was it?”
He knew it was through the door. But now they were back in Simon’s house, which was in the Urwald, which Samara most definitely was not.
“Go. Into the house.” Simon spoke through clenched teeth.
“Can I look at these books?”
Simon didn’t answer, and Jinx decided not to press the point.
He came to the blank wall, reached out for the door, and opened it.
“How did you do that?” Simon demanded behind him. His tight-sounding voice scared Jinx.
“I know it’s there,” said Jinx.
Simon didn’t answer, and Jinx walked fast to the kitchen, wanting to get away. Simon hardly ever got really angry at Jinx, not like this. Usually he was just cranky.
Out in the kitchen, Jinx was headed straight for the front door when Simon said, “Jinx, come here.”
Something in his voice didn’t sound right. Jinx stopped and turned around. Simon was sitting on the stove steps.
“Take a look at this and tell me how bad it is,” Simon said.
Jinx had a sudden cold wave of dread, as if he’d just swallowed ice. There was a steady line of dark-red drips along the floor from the passageway to the step where Simon sat. Jinx went over to Simon, who was trying to point to a spot on his back just below his shoulder. Reluctantly, fearing what he would see, Jinx looked. There was a spreading stain on the back of Simon’s purple robe.
“I—can’t tell. You’ll have to take it off,” said Jinx. His voice sounded as loud and strange as it had inside the Temple of Knowledge. Reality seemed to have been sucked out of the room.
“Pull this sleeve for me.”
Jinx pulled on the sleeve, helping Simon out of the top of his robe. The shirt he wore underneath it was drenched with blood.
“I—I guess I should cut your shirt off,” said Jinx.
“Press that sleeve against the wound first. See if you can stop the bleeding.”
Jinx wadded up a sleeve of the purple robe and pressed it against where he thought the blood was coming from, right under Simon’s left shoulder blade. Jinx had seen pictures of the insides of people in one of Simon’s books. Did wizards have hearts in the same place as normal people?
“Press harder,” said Simon.
Jinx did. Blood was soaking through onto his hand. He wanted to go back
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