(Excerpted from 'The Devil's Dance') ** 'Not... again!' roared a voice so
distorted by anger as
to be almost incomprehensible, loudly enough in its telepathic sounding
to make most of the
room wince. The source of the knives was not one of the ones stunned
in that instant,
however, and this time the blade caught Mikel in his sword-arm's
shoulder. He leaned back
against the wall and pulled the knife free, gritting his teeth even as a
dark form flew off the
ledge and landed to the rear of those gathered. ** Even with only
minimal use of his talent
he could feel the raking sweep of her gaze, searching out the
marauder-tainted, he presumed.
She had a knife held in each hand, gripped so the blades rested along her
forearms, and both
of them were reddened, not merely by the firelight. ** 'Don't,'
grated Jaci, and then
negligently flipped her right arm around, sending the long, balanced
knife whirring through
the air. There was a soft choking sound, and the knife-thrower slumped
out of Mikel's sight
with the long-bladed throwing knife sunk into the side of his neck. The
knife he had been
about to throw clattered to the floor. ** When he looked back towards
her, she had already
drawn another blade out of its place at her hip, and there was a
calculated menace about her
that seemed to radiate. Her eyes were clearer than he had ever seen them,
and hard, and then
she truly started to move.
Index