Sarabande: River of Falcons Book 4

12. Explosives

Sasha was standing in the doorway, peering into the front hall of his old home.

"Well, are you going in or not?" Nighthawk complained, jostling him from behind. "I want to see, too. What are you waiting for?"

"Caution, my children," Thistle warned. "No need for haste. Someone could be waiting for us inside."

Far down the dim corridor, around a bend, a wild-looking girl in a home-made dress of animal skins giggled to herself. "Yes," she thought, "someone is definitely waiting for you!" She peaked around the corner to see if her device was working correctly. Yes, there it was, an iron pot with a tight fitting lid, filled with that explosive powder she had dug out of the back of a cave in the mountains. And she could see the little spark of the long fibrous fuse. It was still burning. It would blow up in another moment, taking those meddlesome humans with it and leaving her alone in her new home! She pulled her head back quickly. That boy had such piercing blue eyes. She did not want him to see her.

Sasha frowned. He thought he had seen some slight motion down at the far end of the front hall, but now he could see nothing. Still, there was something odd, something that did not seem quite right. He held out a warning hand to his mother and sister and slipped through the front door, swinging it closed behind him.

On the outside, Nighthawk reached indignantly for the latch, but Thistle held her back and whispered, "Let him go. It is strategically correct to send one person ahead as our scout."

Sasha stood quietly for a moment, staring toward the far end of the hall. He had a feeling there was some presence there, something or someone that excited his curiosity. He sniffed the air carefully. There was a scent of musty old carpeting that had been singed by heat or fire, but he expected that. What else? Some sweet, wild, musky scent he did not recognize, but rather liked. And there was something more. A sulfurous smell, like something sorcerous was burning. He frowned and studied the dimly lit corridor. A glow caught his eye. Odd for an old cook-pot to be sitting in the middle of the front hall, he thought. Is something cooking in it? There seemed to be a spark of glowing embers off to one side.

It reminded Sasha of something he had seen in a diagram in an old book in his father's library. Sasha used to study those books. They held many arcane formulas from the ancient mages. Was this one of them? A faint memory was beginning to form.

Sasha's first thought was to rush back outside and close the front door, but then he thought about his fine house and it angered him to think that someone would blow up the front hall. He leapt toward the pot. His sword sliced upward, making a whistling sound, then it arced back down, whining as it cut the still air.

By the time Sasha had reached the pot, the fuse was nearly burned and there was only a finger-length of it left. His blow struck so close to the pot that it grazed the side, sending bright sparks out onto the carpet, but he succeeded in severing the fuse. The burning end fell away and smoldered out, and the pot sat still in the middle of the carpet. Sasha stood over it, panting for breath, waiting. When nothing happened, he sheathed his sword again, then picked up the pot with both hands and threw it toward the nearest window.

It burst out through the old leaded glass with a crash. "What's going on?" Thistle called.

"Wait," Sasha instructed. He began to tiptoe down the hallway, keeping a hand ready on the hilt of his sword. He could still smell that strange scent.

Around the corner, Zibellina, that was the girl's name, frowned angrily. Who was this boy who had disarmed her pretty exploding pot? How was she going to get rid of these humans now? Well, if she had to, she could just use magic directly on them. She could fight. She often fought to protect herself. And she was tired of living like a wild animal in the caves. This was her new home. She liked it! She especially liked that library where she could read about interesting new charms such as that exploding pot. Maybe the boy had heard of that one too, but would he know how to defend against a choking charm? It was a secret of the Shamas of her clan. She was certain the boy would not know how to defend against it. That is what she would do! Yes, she would cast a—