Deadly Wands by Brent Reilly Page A

possible. The few
hundred Siberians who could pass for Mongols became his golden air
mules. They’d fly their winnings to Siberia, where other Siberians
would haul it to San Francisco.
    What William really needed was Global Bank
branches throughout the Empire. Or a faster way to move tons of
wealth to the Americas. Or both.
    Billy celebrated his eighth birthday with the
pack's other boys in the leader's ger. His parents took advantage
of having their hut to themselves. The next morning, when they
looked for Billy, they were told he went on one of his long
distance endurance exercises. Because they could not fly as high,
as far, or as fast, Billy had to push his limits alone.
    However, he did not come home. A few weeks
later, a messenger arrived with an urgent message asking for them
by their latest aliases, which terrified them.
    The more the Empire expanded, the more it
relied on frequent communication, so Genghis Khan founded a postal
service. An urgent message could travel 24 hours a day, day after
day. But William and Liz never received a message before because
nobody was suppose to know who or where they were.
    The messenger closed his eyes to select the
message, then tapped William's wand to transfer it. He and Liz
rushed back to their ger to watch it in private. A recording of
Billy's three-dimensional head sprung out at them. His nose looked
enormous because he was pointing a wand at his face.
    "Mom, dad. I just beat the dueling champion
at the Peking Arena. And several thousand other guys just to reach
him. I’m sorry I worried you, but this is what I want to do with my
life. I’ve been dueling for almost two years and I’m so much better
than anyone else it’s barely challenging anymore. If you can
support my decision, then visit me, but I don't want to hear any
lectures. I love you two so much."
    Liz collapsed in her husband’s arms. William
felt responsible because he told Billy that good men are rarely
great and great men are rarely good, so those with great abilities
need to decide early on whether they want to be good or great.
Apparently, Billy decided at age six.
    "He set us up. We're practically in Moscow.
Even at a thousand kilometers a day, it’ll take us over a week to
get to Peking."
    Nine days later, they went directly to the
Peking Arena, a huge open-air stadium that held one hundred
thousand people, the most in the world. They were surprised to find
the place packed on a Tuesday afternoon. Didn't anybody work?
William knew Peking had long been the world’s most populated city,
but he still couldn't believe his eyes. On the steppes, he could go
a year without seeing a thousand people. Now he felt like an ant on
an anthill.
    "Is that him?" Liz shouted over the
crowd.
    William put his wand to his eye, but the
duelers were too far away. Billy had left his old armor behind, so
William asked a cheering fan what he had missed, only to have the
mob yell "97" at the top of their lungs.
    "Three more and I make a fortune," the
merchant told William. "Not as much as I lost last week betting
against the boy, but enough to scab the financial wound." He
pointed into the arena at the victor, who quickly slew his 98th
victim. "Yesterday he finished all one hundred before lunch! Can
you imagine killing a thousand super-quads in just ten days? And
that’s not counting how many he got before beating the reigning
champion.”
    "Just how many duelers does this city have?"
William asked.
    "We’ll soon find out. Did you see the huge
posters outside? They’re all over the Empire. The boy posted one
ton of gold with the arena to go to the fighter who beats him.
Duelers are flying in from everywhere. I've never seen a feeding
frenzy like this before."
    The arena erupted again and the merchant held
out a finger. Someone started chanting, "one more kill, one more
kill." Soon everyone took it up and stomped their feet to the
rhythm. The whole stadium shook.
    "Billy is about to score his 1000th kill in
ten days," William