Kael shrugged, “How could they?”

  It was Oloro’s turn to shrug. “They always seem to find us. Granted, I didn’t know how to use my powers, it was all subconscious.” He began turning the cards over one at a time. “I used to do these little tricks, and I realized I always knew. I could focus on the card they were holding and never lose track of it.” After turning over a dozen cards, Oloro smiled. “Well Emilie, I bet you a snack at the vendor that the next card I turn over is yours.”

  Emilie was delighted. She sizzled in her seat and shook the grifters hand in ascent, not realizing the game was rigged.

  Oloro ran his hand over the cards and Emilie stopped breathing for a second, and then became extra giddy as it kept going. Oloro stopped, scratched his head, and then returned to one of the face up cards and turned it over: “I have flipped over your card.”

  “I gave it away didn’t I?”

  “He always knew, dear,” Bartholomew massaged the top of her head with his fingertips. “He only flipped over your card once to make you think he didn’t. It’s a play on words.”

  “I see,” she said.

  Joshua suspected that she did not.

  “I have a few minutes before I need to get off and we can start a game, but one more thing—” Oloro’s cards shuffled themselves and gathered into his left palm.

  That’d be a cool way to fight if they were studier, Joshua thought. Not necessarily effective, yes, but flashy.

  “I want to see everyone’s left forearm. You too.” He waggled his hand in Joshua’s direction. “You never know.”

  Kael seemed as confused as Joshua.

  Emilie was already presenting as Bartholomew forced her sleeves back down. “I’m not tagged,” he said.

  Tagged?

  Joshua looked across the aisle hoping the resident assassin would have a clue. There he found Gianna shying back, shaking her head. “Rather not, rather not,” she kept whispering.

  “Well now I want to see your forearm too,” Kael said. “In, uh, a normal, not creepy way.”

  Joshua lightly banged his fists on the table. “Peer pressure, peer pressure.”

  “It’s important,” Oloro said.

  Gianna barred her teeth but assented. She pulled off her bulging lumpy sweater and let the assassin robes spill out. Then she rolled up her sleeve halfway and held up her left arm. There, a dark splotch moved. It seemed animated, alive. Just as quickly as it appeared, Gianna pushed her sleeve up and wriggled her sweater back. “Happy?”

  “What is that?” Joshua and Kael asked together.

  “I want a tattoo,” Emilie added.

  “I don’t know what it is,” Oloro said. “They have these syringes with the stuff flittering around like it wants to be somewhere else. Once you’re initiated. . . .” Oloro made a violent face and mimed a stabbing motion. “Dark Element becomes somewhat literal for the members.”

  “It looks surface level,” Joshua said. “Surely you could try and get it out?”

  “People have tried,” Oloro said. “They’re still alive but they wouldn’t recommend it.”

  “And you’re worried that it, what? Exactly?” Kael asked.

  “Well I don’t know. Some way to track us? If it’s something else, I’ve never felt anything. You? Gianna was it?”

  “I only received it when they moved me out of Seriah,” Gianna said. “The Commanders there don’t let it happen.”

  Oloro raised an eyebrow. He had the air of someone who should be taking loud sips of a hot drink between words.

  Joshua looked out the window to the ocean that seemed to travel along with them at speed. Hard to forget being chased down the night before last. He could see the steps Zagan took to find them; nothing supernatural about it.

  “If I hear your concern,” Joshua spoke up, “you’re worried that they can track us, but that goes against how Syches work. The giant could reach past Kael and grab that shiv of Blood because he was close. It’s exponentially harder to do at range. If what they are putting in you is a Syche’s power-- and that is the biggest ‘if’— they would need to be touching you to activate it.

  “It’s blood or something?” Kael asked.

  Josua signed he had no clue.

  Oloro said, “All I knew is that they tracked you over an ocean, so it seemed like a good time to test the theory. If you can eliminate the other variables and they are still tracking you, then you may need to ditch the girl.”

  “Hey!” Gianna shouted, but the emotion felt rehearsed.

  “A school teacher you said?” Kael asked.

  “An easy choice, compared to others I make on a daily basis” Oloro said. “I’m already sticking my neck out for all of you in a big way, so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t go judging my character. Speaking of which,” he slapped his hands to together and rubbed them at speed, “we need to come up with a plan to both get you guys out of here and keep me alive for treason. Those guys?” Oloro nodded to the next card forward, “are still there.”

  “Ideas?” Oloro asked.

  With a heavy sigh that seemed to be in spite of himself, Bartholomew spoke up: “What I’ve gathered over these past few days, is that, is a question for Joshua.”

  “The respect is overdue.”

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  Bartholomew cleared his throat and continued. “But just keep this in mind: all we need is to get me to the capital. It’s the only goal.”

  Oloro smiled, a twinge of doubt at the creases of his eyes. “Sure we don’t need to check your left arm?”

  Bartholomew puffed air. “I’m not a Syche, nor am I a child. I tell you I have a plan. Let that be enough.”

  “Let’s assume you’re all there,” Oloro said, “I can’t escort you the entire way; next stop is mine.”

  Joshua stroked his chin, attempting to communicate that he had a thought, but no one asked so he pressed forward. “The conditions seem simple. If you leave us alone with Zagan and his men and we escape, then you can blame them. So, between now and you leaving, we just need to,” Joshua snapped his fingers and pointed Oloro, “stack the deck.”

  “Don’t ever make puns, not ever,” Oloro said to a crest fallen Joshua.

  Bartholomew was all wide-eyed shock at a crest fallen Joshua and said, “If I knew shutting him up was that easy, I would have been direct days ago.”

  “You know that makes me want to talk, right?” Joshua shook his head. “I can’t believe I’m the one saying this, but let’s focus. We need to get to Il Porta, and we need to survive until this without Gray here. Thus—” Joshua snapped his fingers and pointed at Emilie. “Drum roll please.”

  Emilie obliged, hammering the table vigorously while Gianna began clicking her tongue.

  That gave Joshua pause.

  “We need to trick them into thinking that Mr. Gray has never left. Thus my heroic planning is complete.”

  “You have an ego about you,” Oloro said to Joshua.

  “More of a complex,” Bartholomew added.

  “Yes, yes,” Kael interjected. “We’re all having fun poking at my brother. Let’s just answer his final riddle and get on with it: How do we trick them?”

  “Find a look-alike/ move into the crowd/ kill them/ find an old guy,” was shouted in unison by Joshua, Bartholomew, Gianna, and Emilie at the same time.

  Joshua head his hand up, claiming the floor. “All of that. Mostly,” Joshua paused to glance over his shoulder at Gianna. “We move to the forward cars, find the biggest crowd possible, and hopefully find someone that looks like Gray from behind.”

  “I know you’re trying to annoy me,” Oloro said, “limit testing. But, alas, my hair started turning this color when I was thirteen. I’m quite used to it.”

  “You tell me not to poke at you but then say ‘alas,’ unironically. Really?”

  Bartholomew’s palms slammed the table. “Enough. Mr. Hundo, will you please lead the group forward? Find the facsimile of yourself and we’ll crowd around him. We’ll move the stand-in so they can’t see his face if we must.”

  “Wait a second,” Gianna dawdled, deep in thought. “This is just sounding like my hostage strategy again. Why am I not being consulted on what to do?”

  Kael squinted. “You want us to talk to you more?”

  “No.”

  “One last point of order then,” Oloro said. We need to swap the bubbles. It’ll draw greater suspicion of we do it on my way out.”

  Are we in a bubble? Joshua thought. Does Gray always keep one around him at all times? That would be too much focus. Or. . . . Joshua leaned his head into the aisle and glanced at the assassins still waiting at the window between cars. Maybe it’s because they’re here, two Syches pushing against each other. If Oloro is worried about them attacking even now, this might not go smoothly. We’re easier targets in a box than in a city of millions.

  ###

  That was trick. By moving into the assassin’s zone of control, every Syche in their group—Kael, Gianna, and Oloro, would be suffocated of their powers’ use. Until they broke out the other side, the only thing that any of them could infuse was what they immediately touched. It would be a death sentence the enemy would jump on in an instant if it wasn’t for Oloro. Electricity of any kind—power of any kind really—wrought havoc on Sychic powers.

  But if they got through, Kael would be the one to hold their groups new bubble. It was either him or Gianna for that job, which mean it was always going to be him.

  “Don’t let them stay ahead of you,” Kael said.

  Oloro nodded.

  Kael continued, “If we can’t get ahead of their bubble, then there’s nothing that—"

  “I communicated my understanding, did I not, little Syche?” Oloro said. “We’re working as a unit now. I’ll do my job, you focus on yours.”

  Those sitting removed themselves into the aisles and formed a line, Oloro in the front, Kael and then Gianna in the back. Bartholomew placed Emilie in front of himself and leaned down to whisper. Joshua jumped in place, shaking out the nerves.

  “Gianna?” The girl turned, sadness in her eyes. The emotional ping pong already making his next question feel ironic: “You’ve got my back right? Wether or not we get past them, if they attack we’re the front line.”

  She nodded.

  “You hid during the first exchange. I’m going to need you support me now.”

  The emotion on her face fell into an unreadable mask, she raised a hand a ran her finger nails down her face. “Yes. I get it. I didn’t do well, I’m sorry. I’m not good at—It’s hard to know the right thing to do. But I can follow orders. You tell me to back you up? I do that, no questions.”

  Oh yes, this would go smoothly.

  Oloro moved with the speed and determination of a competitive power walker. And then Joshua, and then Emilie, and then Bartholomew skittering after. Gianna skipped along and Kael brought up the van. Already trapped in Oloro’s bubble, moving into enemy territory was more of an estimate. One person’s power felt the same as the next.

  The assassin guarding the train’s coupling room, the paling bald man, barely had time to bewilderly move aside as the caravan charged through to the next car. Kael gave me a nod of acknowledgement as he brought up the rear. A real, I see you so just try it. The other two lesser assassins stepped into the aisle at the first sign of hubbub, but then the instinct that was ingrained manners took over and they parted—their brains still processing. Kael caught their eyes as he passed; the dark skinned woman calculating the cost of violence. Zagan hadn’t been sitting when they entered. He pushed himself off the wall he leaned on just before the next compartment room, and moved to block Oloro. For such a large man, it may as well have been a magic trick the way Oloro forced Zagan off balance, pushed him into an empty booth.

  “Momentum. Momentum is everything,” Joshua said just behind Oloro. Kael supposed that Joshua was committing a new lesson to memory.

  The few other civilians in the train hardly noticed, the bustling of commute as normal. And honestly, if the black robed assassins hadn’t unnerved them from their seat and into another compartment, then this forced march was nothing.

  Kael looked over his shoulder at Zagan who was only just now pulling himself upright. This would have been trouble, maybe still would be, but for now Kael was gone. On he marched. Only by approaching the end of the third car did Kael’s senses relax and then excitedly expand, encapsulating him again. He was blind, but now he would feel the metals of the train, the composites of the seat, the voids that were human beings. Once again, Kael was shielding the group with his own strength.

  The third car from the back was moderately crowded, and seats instead of booths. No one looked like Oloro. Then next car was booths again and the formally designated restaurant car with a little concession stand in the middle. Still no. Two cars up, where each one had turned into lines of forward-facing seats, Kael spied the group filing in one after another into rows of chairs, loosely clustered around a gray tuft of hair that rose above the seat rest.

  Kael took one seat in front of the tuft and turned around. It wasn’t Oloro. As the train came to a stop, thirty miles outside of Il Porta in Huvais, Oloro was nowhere to be found. The new gray-haired man, sleeping and appropriately aged didn’t look like Oloro at all. Even his hair was whiter, thinner. Kael gave a worrying glance back to the compartment door where Zagan now stood, nose brushing the glass and breath fogging it. Their powers rebuffed on that very line, both Syches vying for control.

  They weren’t coming in at least, for now. They could put half their squad on the other end, but doing so would require them to move through Kael’s bubble. Either they felt that the risk was too great or merely didn’t see any benefit for Kael’s group having moved to a new car. Perhaps they really were still fish on a hook as far as the assassins were concerned, but as long as the assassins thought Oloro was present, that rod had no reel.