Part 25 (1/2)

As he finished that message, he heard one of the Transformed howl in rage or pain. Into his mind flooded all it felt-the pain of being struck in the eye by a flung stone. No, by a volley of them, as though a score of men were throwing.

Eremius felt outrage equal to his creation's. There could not be so many people in the village so free of the Eyes that they could throw a straw, let alone a stone! He opened his mind wider, likewise the senses of his body.

His hearing gave him the first clue, and the only one he needed. The streets of Crimson Springs were thronged with people, hurrying away from the Trans-formed or standing and sneezing violently.

Who among these wretched villagers could know the arcane secret of the Powder of Zayan? Who? He almost screamed the word aloud, at the unsympathetic sky.

It mattered little. Clearly the intruder to the valley some days ago had done more than escape. He had warned the maker of the Powder.

Crimson Springs was defended in a way Eremius had not expected.

That also would matter little. If they thought they could fight the Master of even one Jewel, it would be their last mistake.

Eremius cast his mind among the villagers, counting those bound by the Eyes of Hahr. Enough of those, and he could still sow chaos by sending yet another spell into their minds.

Unnoticed by an Eremius intent on his counting, the strands of Illyana's hair binding the Jewel to his staff began to writhe, then to glow with a ruby light.

Twelve.

EMERALD LIGHT CREPT around the edge of the door to Illyana's chamber.

The light held no heat, but Conan could not rid himself of the notion that he stood with his back to a blazing furnace.

That was still better by far than seeing such magic with his own eyes.

He would have refused to do so, even had not Illyana and Raihna both warned him that it was no sight for eyes unaccustomed to sorcery.

”If this seems to be doubting your courage-” Illyana had begun.

”You're not doubting my courage. You're doubting that I'm the biggest fool in Turan. Go do your best with the magic. I'll do my best to keep anyone from ramming a sword through your-” Conan sketched a gesture that made Illyana blush.

The door rattled. Conan took a cautious step away from it. As he did, the innkeeper stamped up the stairs, puffing and red-faced.

”Has your lady witch set my house afire, besides everything else?” the man muttered. He looked as if no answer would surprise him.

”Not that I know,” Raihna said. She had clothed herself in trousers and tunic. The landlord's eyes said this was no improvement over her previous attire.

”Has the cursed spell worked?”

”I don't know that either.”

”Mitra and Erlik deliver us! Do you know anything about what's going on in there?”

”As much as you do.”

”Or as little,” Conan added.

The innkeeper looked ready to kill everyone in sight, including himself. His hands clutched at the remnants of his hair. His bald spot and the rest of his face shone with sweat.

”Well, I know that there's a mob on the way, to burn this inn if your lady witch doesn't!”

Conan and Raihna cursed together. Even Dessa added a few rough jests about some people's manhood.