Free Fall of a Kingdom (The Farsala Trilogy) by Hilari Bell

taken. He hooked one foot around the other man’s ankle and pulled, reaching out to shove him back at the same time, planning to run right over his fallen body. It was a good move, one he’d taught Hama.
    It worked this time too, except the man grabbed Kavi’s hands as he pushed him, dragging Kavi down on top of him when he fell.
    Kavi tried to pull his wrists free, then he twisted them, and the tight fingers began to yield. But suddenly the ground heaved and the world flipped around. Kavi’s head struck the earth with stunning force; when it cleared, he was lying on his back, with the other man seated on his stomach, reaching for his wrists again.
    Kavi flung his right hand out of reach, but the man captured his left wrist in an iron grasp. Kavi tried to grab his opponent’s wrist, but the weakened fingers of his right hand betrayed him, as they always did. The man pulled out of his grip as if it were a babe’s and grabbed Kavi’s other wrist, pinning him. Before Kavi could twist his wrists free again, the man rolled to his feet, bringing Kavi with him, but with a skillful twist that pulled Kavi’s left arm up behind his back in such a way that it would break if Kavi tried to flee. The man knew what he was doing, djinn take him, even down to recognizing the weakness of Kavi’s right hand and pinning his left instead. A soldier? Someone trained in wrestling, for certain.
    Kavi staggered forward, bent almost double by the ache in his shoulder, and ended on his knees before the chopping block. The bracelet lay there, cut neatly in half. Lead gleamed dully inside its casing of gold-coated bronze.
    When in doubt, lie. “I didn’t know, noble sir, truly I didn’t. The man deceived me.”
    The deghan snorted. He hadn’t moved an inch from the block, curse him. His expression no longer held the manic amusement that had brightened it before, but at least he didn’t look murderously angry. “Weak, very weak,” he pronounced. “If you thought it was gold all through, why did you run?”
    “I knew you’d not be willing to pay full price for a broken bracelet, and I feared you’d turn your anger against me,” said Kavi quickly, though this lie was weaker still. He fought to control his expression. “Mercy, noble sir, my mother is a widow, and—”
    “Be still.” It was an order, for all its softness, and Kavi fell silent as the deghan reached out and lifted his right hand, so the light of the distant fire highlighted the scar on his palm. “Let’s get ourselves inside. No use letting more see you than need be.”
    The deghan’s eyes were on the man who held Kavi—a man who evidently wasn’t supposed to be here. But without knowing why he wasn’t supposed to be here, Kavi couldn’t think of a way to blackmail them.
    The deghan led the way back to the ladies’ pavilion, which happened to be nearest, and lifted the flap with ironic courtesy as Kavi’s captor dragged him inside. The two girls trailed behind, but the deghan, as Kavi craned his neck to see, gestured to someone outside. A few moments later he came in, absurdly quiet for such a big man. “Let him go, Jiaan. If he runs, he won’t get far.”
    The iron grip on Kavi’s wrist vanished, and he fell forward, catching himself on his hands. He considered scrambling to his feet and bolting, despite the deghan’s words, but the noble was between him and the entrance. Rubbing his wrist, he turned to look at the man behind him. Not a man, he saw now, but a youth near his own age. He looked a lot like the deghan, but he wasn’t dressed richly enough to be a son. At least, not a legitimate son. Whoever he was, his hands were open and ready to grapple.
    The deghan came forward and squatted to take Kavi’s hand again, studying the scar. It took all of Kavi’s self-control not to snatch it back. “What’s your real name, Barmahn of wherever?”
    “Naru,” said Kavi reluctantly. “Of Desafon.”
    The noble snorted. “If you insist.” He nodded toward