With the negotiators all in place, Pelias replaced the cultist’s gag. The cultist continued to struggle for several minutes. Calvin spent that time treating his shoulder wound, calming his squirming stomach, and collecting his thoughts. She saw. She knows. What should I do? He couldn’t acknowledge, even to himself, why he’d covered for her. That would bring more pain. But how should he proceed? Should I convert her, too? He shook his head and pulled his bandage tight. The thought made him nauseous. Maybe just forget about it? a timid corner of his mind suggested. Maybe I didn’t see her after all? Maybe I imagined it? A certain peace accompanied that thought, and Calvin embraced it. Best just to forget the incident.

  At length, the cultist stopped struggling. Pelias removed his gag and the ropes binding him to the bed. The cultist tenderly pushed himself up and rubbed his wrists. “I suppose this isn’t so bad.”

  Calvin grinned. “That’s the spirit. Welcome to the crew, Martin.”

  Martin nodded. “What do you want me to do?”

  “You three,” Calvin said, “are going to sit tight in here for a while. The mercenaries will expect the ‘interrogation’ to take much longer.” He pulled a jar from his pack. “You can spend some of that time getting the rest of that Rikchay venom out of your system. It’ll start losing its potency if you don’t, but we might want it to make an antivenom.”

  “Understood.”

  “Where are you going, sir?” Bob asked.

  “To find the mercenaries. Give them a reason not to come back here before the interrogation is over. When you’re done here, you two are to return to town so we can set up base. Martin,” Calvin handed his new crewmate an envelope. “You will go directly back to Rikchay and deliver this letter to Pintor.”

  Martin tucked the envelope into a pocket. “Consider it done.”

  Calvin sighed with satisfaction as he stepped out of the house. His plan was moving forward flawlessly. His mission would be completed sooner than even Cambiador could have hoped.

  A movement in the woods drew his eye. Shale stood half-hidden behind a tree, her narrow eyes exuding suspicion and caution.

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  Calvin paused. The plan hadn’t been so flawless, after all. Shale had seen the negotiators in action. That wasn’t something he was allowed to let non-Tikray eyes see. Still, the thought of following protocol in this instance was disgusting enough that he’d rather put up with the stomach twinges. She’s part of my crew. I can’t do that to her.

  A particularly sharp twinge made him clutch his stomach and screw up his face against a grunt. I’ve dealt with worse. I can push through this. Calvin steeled himself and pushed toward the path back to town. As he drew level with Shale, the pressure built in his gut to carry out the protocol, but he gritted his teeth and kept walking. Then, a sharp pang proved too intense for his composure. He leaned against a tree and tried to stifle a groan.

  “What’s going on?” Shale asked.

  Calvin breathed heavily through his teeth. “Nothing. Forget it.”

  “You can hardly walk. Is it your stomach again?”

  Calvin froze. “What do you mean?”

  “Anybody paying attention would notice. You wince and grab your stomach. It got really bad on that infiltration job we did. It nearly disabled you before the fight with the leader, and it took you down when that thief died. Pelias said it was your leg, but you were clawing at your gut.”

  “I get painful indigestion.”

  She snorted. “You’re too young to get indigestion that often.”

  “I know. I think it’s an allergic reaction I developed from eating something weird a while ago.” His stomach pulled into a tight knot, and he winced, sinking a few inches against the tree.

  “Is it related to your ‘allergy’ to divine healing?”

  Calvin’s breath caught. She’s just guessing. She doesn’t know.

  “I picked up some castor oil in town. I wonder if both of your problems might be solved by emptying your stomach.”

  Terror ripped through Calvin, energizing him. Before he could think, he’d drawn his knife and spun toward Shale. He leapt. NO! He forced all of his willpower into dropping the knife, causing it to fall harmlessly to the leaf-littered forest floor.

  His body locked up, and he fell to the ground, smashing his face in the dirt. His stomach was twisted so tightly that it pulled other organs into the knot. It was worse than when Terry died. It was worse than when he’d seen his crewmates’ heads lined up on Cambiador’s shelves. His entire being was being pulled toward his writhing gut, and he couldn’t budge a finger.

  Shale asked more questions, but the pain was too intense for him to make out what she said. He poured all of his energy into getting one message past his lips: “Leave me alone.”

  Thwack! A dagger planted itself in a tree, just barely missing Shale’s head.

  Pelias approached slowly, readying another dagger. “I would have preferred to have your assistance against Pintor,” he said. “Unfortunately, you know too much.” He threw the other dagger.