Just then a snapping sound struck nearby, the small rumbling sound of thunder. They recognized it immediately, for the same sound preceded the Kishion’s arrival. Paedrin grabbed Hettie’s arm and pulled her to a halt.

Three men appeared.

They were Aeduan, by the look of them. Each wore a black jacket buttoned down the front with a small white ruff at the collar. Each also wore an intricate gold chain around his neck with a multifaceted gem embedded in a medallion. White ruffles appeared at their wrists too.

“Paracelsus,” Hettie said.

The three men said nothing, but as one they touched the medallions and a streak of red light shone from each, connecting the three medallions in a triangle of light, trapping the two of them inside.

Paedrin rushed toward the nearest one. As he approached, he felt a rush of air shove him backward. The air in front of the man was hot and jarring, forming some sort of force that prevented him from approaching the man. His ears rang with pain, and he backed away. The pain lessened.

“We have you caged, Bhikhu,” one of them said. He had a short gray beard, cropped close to his jawline. He motioned for the other two with his free hand. “Close ranks.”

The other two Paracelsus each took a step forward, shrinking the size of the triangle.

Hettie whipped out her bow and quickly nocked an arrow.

“Hettie, no!” Paedrin warned.

She loosed the shaft at the lead man. The arrow raced toward him, only to be repelled right back at her. She managed to sidestep it in time, but the three men continued to close on them.

Paedrin felt the force looming, pushing at him from three sides. If they got too near, he knew he would be immobilized. Being captured again by the Arch-Rike was not something he intended to let happen.

He took a forceful stride forward, sucking in his breath. His body lifted in the air, soaring up past the streaks of red light. The cage, he discovered, did not have a top.

“Stop him! Use the ring charms!”

As Paedrin hovered in the air a moment, he watched a blade emerge from the leader’s chest as Kiranrao appeared in smoke-like coalescence. The look on the man’s face was contorted with agony as he slumped to his knees and then pitched forward.

The streams of red light winked out.

Paedrin exhaled and landed with a thud. He vaulted at the nearest Paracelsus, watching the man’s sudden panicked eyes as he brought up a ring and aimed the crystal at Paedrin’s chest. The Bhikhu did a forward roll as a blast of white energy emerged from the ring, zooming over him. Rolling up, he caught the man’s outstretched arm, jerking it up and high so that the ring blasted its white light into the sky. He struck sensitive parts of the man’s underarm and ribs, and then crippled him with a blow to his kneecap.

The man’s face was ravaged with suffering, and the only sound he could make was a guttural moan.

He turned, watching as Kiranrao stalked the final Paracelsus, who struck at him with his ring. The blasts of white light missed him. The Romani moved closer and closer, teasing at him with the tip of his blade. Then he whirled around and threw his sword, the blade impaling the Paracelsus and knocking him down. The Paracelsus’s body convulsed, and he withdrew a cylinder from his cloak. He seemed to touch the end of it before he vanished, disappearing into the night.

As Paedrin turned, he found Hettie near the empty clothes of the first Paracelsus, taking the jewelry up and stuffing them in her pack. The one Paedrin had disarmed was writhing in the long grass.

“Take his magic,” Kiranrao said. “It will help shield you from his kind in the future.” A wicked grin twisted his mouth. “You must be worth more to the Arch-Rike than I thought. Or maybe it is me that he wants so badly.”

Paedrin stared at him, feeling nothing but anger and loathing in his heart. How quickly he had dispatched the other two. There was no lesson in death. These men had studied their craft for decades. Their knowledge was now lost forever. It was a pitiful waste of existence.

“Do not kill when we can only harm,” Paedrin said in a low voice. “It should be the final resort.”

“Spare me your sentiments, Bhikhu.”

“Spare me your callousness, Romani.” He shook his head. “I will not travel with you. I will not go a step farther with you. We part ways this instant unless you swear you will not kill.”

Kiranrao looked at him in disbelief. “I swear to no man. I owe you nothing, Bhikhu.”

“Then find Tyrus Paracelsus on your own.”

“Paedrin,” Hettie said, her voice low with warning. “You cannot expect a Romani to…”