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Hector considered what to say. He could just lie. But would that actually help? Would that put this guy off or just make him more excited to fight? The fact that Ivan was asking at all suggested that he was trying to be cautious, which further suggested that it would put him off. Maybe.

“I’m a little over three hundred years old,” said Hector. He had to keep his focus. Slow, measured responses. At his own pace. He’d done this sort of thing before--maybe not on this level, but he’d done it before. “I’ve... I’ve grown so accustomed to keeping my soul’s field density suppressed... that I do it without even meaning to now.”

Ivan’s mouth twisted slowly into a manic smile. “Ha! Excellent!”

Well, that backfired.

“If not for my big lizard friend, I would have left this operation to my men. What with the Rainlords being exhausted and none of the Sandlords but the Lion present, I was sure there wouldn’t be anyone here who could show me a good time. I do love a nice surprise.”

Hector recognized the mad expression on the Salesman’s face. Perhaps it was some kind of prerequisite for becoming one of Morgunov’s followers.

He’d guessed wrong. Now the Salesman was going to stomp him into the dust. Unless he did something about it. He already knew fighting wasn’t an option. This guy could probably kill him with a sneeze.

That only left talking. Not his strong suit, to say the least. In fact, he’d already cocked it up pretty badly. But he did know what he wanted to say next.

“Agh,” Ivan said first, “all these interruptions. Pardon me a moment.”

Hector didn’t know what he was talking about, until the right wall exploded as a floating blue cage came crashing through it.

Hector shielded his eyes from the ensuing cloud of dust and sidestepped a chunk of debris the size of a horse. Briefly, he was quite pleased with himself for being able to see that coming. And then a smaller one pegged him right in the face.