Part 36 (2/2)

”How many?”

”Many. More than I could count.”

”More than you cared to count?”

”I-Master, no, no-!”

The Jewel blazed to life, flooding the hillside with emerald light dazzling to any eyes not s.h.i.+elded by sorcery. With a scream, the scout clapped both hands over his eyes. The movement unbalanced him, and he toppled from the saddle, to thump down at Eremius's feet.

Eremius contemplated the writhing man and listened to his cries and wails. The man seemed sure he was blinded for life.

Capturing a few horses in the village and saving them from the Transformed now seemed a small victory. The horses could move farther and faster than the Transformed, save when Eremius was using the Jewel to command his creations. The Jewel seemed less self-willed of late, but save when rage overwhelmed him, Eremius continued to be prudent in using it.

As always, however, the human servants he could command with only a single Jewel lacked the resourcefulness, courage, and quick wits heeded for scouting. They were better than using the Jewel promiscuously, wearying the Transformed, or marching in ignorance. No more could be said for them.

Eremius allowed the Jewel's light to die and raised the scout to his feet. ”How many, again? More than a thousand?”

”Less.”

”Where?”

”Coming up the Salt Valley.”

Eremius tried to learn more, but the man was clearly too frightened of blindness to have his wits about him. ”By my will, let your sight-returnl”

The man lowered his hands, realized that he could see, and knelt to kiss the hem of Eremius's robe. The sorcerer took a modest pleasure in such subservience. He would a thousand times rather have had Illyana kneeling there, but a wise man took those pleasures that came to him.

At last he allowed the man to rise and lead his horse away. Forming a picture of the countryside in his mind, Eremius considered briefly where to send the Transformed. Victory would not really be enough. The utter destruction of everyone marching against him would be better.

Could he achieve that destruction? The Transformed were neither invulnerable nor invincible. Enough soldiers could stand them off.

Still worse might happen, if Illyana (or the Jewels themselves, but he would not think of that) struck back.

The Transformed had to be able to attack together, and retreat together. That meant attacking from one side of the valley-

Bora was kneeling to fill his water bottle at a stream when he heard voices. He plugged the bottle and crept closer, until he recognized the voices.

A moment later, he recognized a conversation surely not meant for his ears. An argument, rather, with Lady Illyana, Shamil, and Khezal arrayed against one another.

”My lady, if you're sure the demons are coming, why don't you use your magic against them?” Shamil was saying.

”I am not complete master of all the arts that would be needed.” As if it had been written across the twilight sky, Bora understood that the lady was telling less than she knew.

”You mean you don't have any arts worth more than p.i.s.sing on the demons, if there are any!” Shamil growled. ”All we'd have is a lot of shrieking and dancing that'd scare the men.” He contemplated Illyana in a manner Bora recognized even in the fading light. ”Of course, if you were to dance naked, it wouldn't matter what else you did.”

Bora hoped that Illyana really did have the power to transform Captain Shamil into a pig. From the look on her face, she wished the same.

Khezal sought to play peacemaker.

<script>