Part 6 (1/2)

40.

Rod shrugged. ”Wasn't exactly a private conversation.

What about it?”

”If this Count Novgor had won, these soldiers in the sorcerer's livery would not have been marching after these peasant folk.”

The folk in question gasped, and one woman cried, ”But the baim can scarcely be weaned!”

Rod turned to them, unable to resist a proud smirk. ”You should see him think up excuses not to eat his vegetables.

I'm afraid he's got a point, though; I wouldn't have any great hopes for Count Novgor's victory.”

The peasants sagged visibly.

”But it should be possible to get a definite answer.” Rod strode forward.

The peasants leaped aside.

Rod stepped up to the bound soldiers. He noticed that one or two were struggling against their ties. ”They're be- ginning to come to. I think they might know who won.”

He reached out to yank a soldier onto his feet, then turned to the peasants. ”Anybody recognize him?”

The peasants stared and, one after another, shook their heads. Then, suddenly, one woman's finger darted out, to point at the soldier on top of the third pile. ”But yonder is Gavin Arlinson, who followed good Sir Ewing into battle!

How comes he to fight in the service of his lord's foe?”

”Or any of them, for that matter? Still, he'll do nicely as a representative sample.” Rod gave the soldier he was holding, a slight push; the man teetered, then fell back down onto his comrades. Rod caught him at the last second, of course, and lowered him the final inch; then he waded through the bound men, to pull Gavin Arlinson onto his feet. He slapped the man's face gently, until the eyelids fluttered; then he called, ”Magnus, the brandy-it's in Fess's pack.”

His eldest elbowed his way through to his father, holding up a flask. Rod took it, noting that n.o.body seemed to wonder where Magnus had come from. He pressed the flask to Arlinson's lips and tilted, then yanked it back out quickly.

The soldier coughed, spraying the immediate area, choked, then swallowed. He squinted up at Rod, frowning.

Just the look of the eyes made Rod s.h.i.+ver. Admittedly, 41.

the gla.s.siness of that stare could be due to the head knock he'd received; but the unwavering, unblinking coldness was another matter.

Rod pulled his nerve back up and demanded, ”What happened to Sir Ewing?”

”He died,” the soldier answered, his tone flat. ”He died, as must any who come up against the might of the Lord Sorcerer Alfar.”

Rod heard indignant gasps and muttering behind him, but he didn't turn to look. ”Tell us the manner of it.”

”'Tis easily said,” the soldier answered, with full con- tempt. ”He and his men marched forth to seek the warlock Melkanth. They took the old track through the forest, and in a meadow, they met him. But not Melkanth alone-his brother warlocks and sister witches, all four together, with their venerable Lord, the Sorcerer Alfar. Then did the war- locks and witches cause divers monsters to spring out upon Sir Ewing and his men, while the witches cast fireb.a.l.l.s. A warlock appeared hard by Sir Ewing, in midair, to stab through his visor and hale him off his mount. Then would his soldiers have fled, but the Lord Sorcerer cried out a summoning, and all eyes turned toward him. With one glance, he held them all. Then did he explain to them who he was, and why he had come.”

”I'll bite.” Rod gave him a sour smile. ”Who is he?”

”A man bom with Talent, and therefore n.o.ble by birth,”

the soldier answered tightly, ”who hath come to free us all from the chains in which the twelve Lords, and their lackeys, do hold us bound.”

”What chains are these?” Rod demanded. ”Why do you need freeing?”

The soldier's mouth twisted with contempt. ”The 'why'

of it matters not; only the fact of enslavement's of import.”

”That, I can agree with-but not quite the way you meant it.” Rod turned to his wife. ”I call it hypnosis-instant style. What's your diagnosis?”

”The same, my lord,” she said slowly. ”'Tis like to the Evil Eye with which we dealt, these ten years gone.”

Rod winced. ”Please! Don't remind me how long it's been.” He submitted to a brief but intense wave of nostalgia, suddenly feeling again the days when he and Gwen had 42 Christopher Stasheff 43 only had to worry about one baby warlock. And, of course, a thousand or so marauding beastmen....

He shook off the mood. ”Can you do anything about it?”

”Why... a.s.suredly, my lord.” Gwen stepped up to him, looking directly into his eyes. ”But dost thou not wish to attempt it thyself?”

Rod shook his head, jaw clamped tight. ”No, thanks. I managed to make it through this skirmish without rousing my temper-how, I'm not sure; but I'd just as soon not tempt fate. See what you can do with him, will you?”

”Gladly,” she answered, and turned to stare into the sol- dier's eyes.

After a minute, his lips writhed back from his teeth. Rod glanced quickly at the thongs that held his wrists, then down to his lashed ankles. His muscles strained against the leather, and it cut into his flesh, but there was no sign it might break.

He looked back up at the soldier's face. It had paled, and beads of sweat stood out on his forehead.

Suddenly, he stiffened, his eyes bulging, and his whole body shuddered so violently that it seemed it would fall apart. Then he went limp, darting panicked glances about him, panting as though he'd run a mile. ”How... Who...”

Gwen pressed her hands over her eyes and turned away.

Rod looked from her to the soldier and back. Then he grabbed Grathum and shoved the soldier into his arms.

”Here! Hold him up!” He leaped after his wife, and caught her in his arms. ”It's over, dear. It's not there anymore.”

”Nay... I am well, husband,” she muttered into his doublet. ”Yet that was... distasteful.”

”What? The feel of his mind?”

She nodded, mute, ”What was it?” Rod pressed. ”The sense of wrongness?

The twisting of the mind that had hynotized him?”

”Nay-'twas the lack of it.”

”Lack?”

”Aye.” Gwen looked up into his eyes, a furrow between her eyebrows. ”There was no trace of any other mind within his, my lord. Even with the beastmen's Evil Eye, there was ever the sense of some other presence behind it-but here, there was naught.”

Rod frowned, puzzled. ”You mean he was hypnotized and brainwashed, but whoever did it was so skillful, he didn't even leave a trace?”