Killer

Refugees, spectators, and those trying to limit the damage of the blaze clogged the streets. Many of those who had made their initial escape were now trying to return to the building in hope of saving some of their belongings. Of the spectators, some watched with the greedy wonder brought out by any major disaster-an expression that Lycon had seen multiplied by tens of thousands in the seats surrounding the arena. Others, though, wore something closer to the look of victims waiting for the lions. The orange claw that dripped cascading sparks might not be satisfied with a single kill. If a breeze sprang up, if the hinted rain chose not to fall, fire would maul the whole quarter-dozens of buildings, perhaps hundreds. Those watching from their windows or from the street outside their shops saw sooty victims weep for the dead and the lost, in full realization that in another hour they themselves might join the parade of mourners.

Lycon put his right palm on N'Sumu's shoulder. The Egyptian felt hot, even through the pain throbbing across Lycon's injured hand. "We'll gather up a light and some of my men, then lock this thing away in the compound."

He hefted the net with the lizard-ape chick-now fighting once more to escape the mesh. The column of fire roaring from the stricken building was reflected from low clouds in a yellow-orange glare. It was the first time Lycon had both light and leisure adequate to inspect what he had captured.

In general, the immediate victims of the fire shuffled along too absorbed in their own concerns to pay any attention to the creature Lycon now viewed at arm's length. Even those who did look up let their eyes dully drift away without the curiosity they might have displayed under other circumstances.

Not that there was anything particularly terrifying about the little beast-not so long as it was safely ensnared. It was about the size of a cat, as Lycon had thought from the initial glimpse, although this thing was tailless and had fangs like broken glass. It was snapping crookedly at the net, unable to close its jaws properly-Lycon guessed he likely had broken its jaw when he slammed it against the wall. One of the chick's eyes was open and glaring murder; the other had swollen shut. Its rib cage seemed almost skeletally thin due to its coating of scales where fur would have given it a greater appearance of bulk. Its sides quivered at a rate too rapid for lungs, even driven by fever and injury; perhaps it was the thing's heart beating.

One of its arms reached through the meshes of the net-slashing at whatever came near. The claws were extended and dark with the blood they had earlier snatched from Lycon's calf. The head of a human baby looks large because it is nearer to its adult size than is its body. The claws of this month-old chick could not have really been as long as those of its mother, but they gave that impression-and they were surely as sharp.

"Let me have that," N'Sumu demanded unexpectedly. "If you've harmed it, you fool, you'll…"

"Don't be an ass!" Lycon snapped. "It's bait to bring in its mother! How would you bait your traps back home in Nubia, N'Sumu?"

"Save your quarrel for afterward!" Vonones broke in. "We've got worse trouble than the lizard-ape to deal with now. Look!"

Beyond the barrier of the milling crowd, a double file of troops was riding toward them from the north. The troops must have made good progress to have covered the distance between here and the palace in the time since the first sparks had cascaded into the sky. There could be little question of where they came from-hulking Germans in bright armor and the tribune, Lacerta, one of the pair in the front rank.

There could be little doubt about who had sent them to investigate, either.

Chapter Fifteen

N'Sumu, who had been glowering at Lycon, turned his attention toward the direction Vonones indicated. His uncanny gaze seemed to glance at the oncoming troops without recognition, as his pupils suddenly went opaque. N'Sumu jerked upright, facing the distant roofs-his hands raised palms-outward as if in an exaggerated gesture of surprise. "It's up there!" he hissed. "It's come back!"

Passersby eddied around the men as all three paused to stare skyward. The troop of guards had been halted by a barrier that they could not lash out of the way: a builder's wagon loaded with bricks, overturned in the street when its driver tried to back his team away from the commotion and danger of the fire. Shouts and curses in German and Latin scattered even those refugees numbed by the conflagration, but the heaped bricks were not affected in the least.