No one alive knew that one better.

Only the brat wouldn't let him get the head start he needed. He kept onfighting and kicking, yelling and tripping. Azel smacked him around as much ashe dared, but not as much as he wanted. There would be no tolerance shown ifhe delivered damaged goods.

Then they were there in the labyrinth with him, the mercenary betrayers, withabsolute terror coursing before them, and for the first time ever Azel foundhimself compelled to employ his penultimate recourse.

The ultimate recourse fluttered blackly behind his lids as he clung to thebrat with one hand while flinging the contents of the envelope, his eyessealed.

Heat drove him back.

The Dartars cursed and clattered into one another. The kid squealed and quitstruggling. Azel opened his eyes. "That's more like it, you little bastard."

He glared at the Dartars. If he didn't have to keep the kid in hand he wouldstick them with their own spears.

He grabbed up the by now passive boy and draped him over his shoulder. The boyclung to the skull as though it was a protective talisman.

This time it was hard. This time it took all his knowledge of the labyrinth tolose the hunters. Dartars and Herodians and angry citizens were everywhere.

Azel zigged and dodged and at times even crouched in hiding, the kid clampedhelpless and silent in his arms. Of all the damnable luck, those black-clothedcamel jockeys turning up when they did.

There was a warning in what had happened. The easy times were over. And theywere barely past halfway down the list. With Gorloch knew how many more yet tobe discovered.

There was going to be some serious talk after he made this delivery. No waywas he going out again with nothing but a pack of flash to cover his ass.

He reached the outlet from the maze that lay nearest his destination. The bratstarted to struggle again, but that did not last. And he finally turned looseof the damned skull.