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‘Can’t talk long,’ he thought. ‘I’m with the Salesman, still. What can you tell me about him?’

‘What are you--Hector, I don’t--’

‘Quick, Garovel. Life and death situation here.’

‘Ah--okay. Um. The Salesman is best known for war profiteering. Supposedly, he has a gigantic network of spies all over the world and heads up most, if not all, of Abolish’s intelligence-gathering operations.’

That was about what Hector had been expecting. ‘What about his power?’

‘Wha--uh--I don’t know.’

‘What can you tell me about the weak interaction?’

‘Er--is that--? Agh, I can’t explain that quickly! I don’t even understand it that well to begin with! And I’m not sure anyone does!’

Not very helpful, but oh well. ‘Okay.’

‘Hector, why hasn’t he killed you by now?!’

‘He may be under the impression that I’m three hundred years old.’

‘What?!’

‘I have a plan. It’s stupid as shit, though. You should keep running.’

‘Hector!’

He could feel his blue cage slowing down. ‘Gotta go.’ He tuned the reaper out again as his feet neared the sand. They stopped just short of touching it, however. And the blue cage around him did not dissipate, either. Hector gave the Salesman a look.

“What?” said Ivan, easing himself down on the apex of the nearest dune. “I’ve done as you requested. You shouldn’t need me to free you now, right?”

There was no good answer to that question, Hector felt. Better to just sidestep it. “Yes, well... before we get to any of that... I have a small confession.”

“Is it that you were lying about how powerful you are? Because I suspected as much.”

He could’ve come clean here, but that didn’t seem like the right move. He didn’t intend to give ground until he absolutely had to. Instead, he said, “No. I was lying, but not about that.”

The Salesman snorted. “Do explain, then.”