Oath of Swords

Wencit shrugged, and Bahzell shivered. Wizard or no, the thought of meeting one of Sharna’s demons was a frightening one.

“So what is it you’re thinking to do?” he asked after a moment.

“I have to keep Zarantha close to guard her and, eventually, get her to safety. For the moment, I’m maintaining a glamour-think of it as a spell of evasion that turns their scrying attempts aside. As long as I hold the glamour, I and anyone with me become a blank spot, something they can’t quite ‘see.’ ”

“So you’re safe from detection,” Brandark said.

“No, they just can’t see me,” Wencit corrected, and the Bloody Sword scratched his chin in evident confusion. “They can’t see anything where I am, Brandark. All they have to do is look long and hard enough to find the blank spot in their scrying spells, and they’ll know I’m inside it.”

Bahzell grunted in unhappy understanding. They couldn’t move on in this weather, especially not with Zarantha so weakened and exhausted. They had to wait for the storm to break, and it was only too likely that the dead wizards’ allies knew precisely where to find them this moment. If those allies simply had to spot the blind spot in their vision, tracking it would be almost as easy as tracking a target they could see clearly, and if they knew Wencit was in it, they’d throw everything they had at it the moment they could. But-

“Tell me,” he rumbled slowly, “would they be knowing that you know they can be following after this blank spot?”

“Of course.”

“Well, that being the case, would they be so very surprised if you didn’t hold your glamour?” Wencit crooked an eyebrow, and the Horse Stealer shrugged. “What I’m wondering is whether or not they’d be smelling something if you chose to trust in speed, not stealth, and simply ran for it.”

“I don’t know.” Wencit pursed his lips, then shrugged. “Probably not-not, at least, if I ran in a direction that made sense to them.”

“Ah.” Bahzell nodded in satisfaction, and Brandark shot him a speculative glance.

“I know that tone, Bahzell. You’re up to something.”

“Aye, that I am,” the Horse Stealer admitted. “It’s in my mind that we might be giving them something they can see clear enough and let them chase after that.”

“Like what?” Brandark demanded, and Bahzell looked at the wizard.

“Suppose you were casting another of your illusions, Wencit-not of hradani, this time, but of all of us-and sent it straight off towards Jashân while the lot of us were actually heading off north under your glamour? By the time they were catching up with the illusion, why, we’d be so far away a single ‘blank spot’ would be a mortal hard thing to be finding in so much space.”

“It wouldn’t work,” Wencit disagreed with a headshake. “Oh, the plan’s good enough, but an illusion requires a focus. I couldn’t project one that complex more than a league or two from me without something to tie it to, and that’s not far enough to do us much good.”

“What sort of focus would you be needing?” Bahzell asked intently.

“Almost anything would do in a pinch, but a living mind is best. An illusion feeds on itself, in a way; if someone at its heart can see it about him, his perception of it becomes part of the spell and helps maintain and reinforce it for other observers.”

“Does it now?” Bahzell murmured, and Brandark straightened with a jerk.

“Bahzell-!” he began sharply, but the Horse Stealer silenced him with a raised hand, never taking his own eyes from Wencit.

“Suppose you were using me for this focus of yours. I’m thinking I could be leading them a merry chase while you and Brandark saw Zarantha home.”

“No!” Brandark ignored the look Bahzell gave him and shook his head fiercely. “You’re not sneaking off without me, Bahzell!”

“Oh, hush, now! Where’s the point in risking more than one when there’s no need at all, at all, to be doing it?”

“If you’re bound and determined to be the hero in some stupid ballad, then I’ll be damned if I let you hog all the glory for yourself!” Brandark shot back in something much more like his normal tone. “And what sort of bard would miss the chance to write the ballad from the inside, anyway?”

Bahzell started to reply, but Wencit cut him off.

“It’s a generous offer, Bahzell, but I don’t think you realize what you’d be letting yourself in for. You’ve trouble enough without borrowing mine, and not just from dog brothers.”

“Do I, now?” The Horse Stealer cocked his ears at the wizard. “And just what else might it be that’s following after me?”

“I can’t say for certain.” Wencit paused, and he seemed to select his words with care when he continued. “You’re in a . . . pivotal position just now. I realize you haven’t decided to accept an, ah, offer you were recently made, but certain other powers know it was offered. They’re determined that you won’t accept it, and I expect them to take rather drastic steps to insure you don’t.”

“D’you know,” Bahzell said almost meditatively, “I’m thinking you’re knowing entirely too much about me for my peace of mind, Wencit of Rūm.”

“I’m a wizard. Wizards are supposed to know too much for other people’s peace of mind.”

“Are they, indeed? D’you suppose that might be one reason they’re after being so popular with other folk?”

“No doubt. But that doesn’t change facts, and the facts are that even without me or Zarantha along, you’re going to draw entirely too many enemies after you, wherever you go. There’s no point adding my troubles to yours.”

“I’ll grant you that, but that’s not to be saying there’s reason to be adding my troubles to yours , either. If they’re after knowing we’re together, then all we’ll do by staying so is to bring both our enemies down on all of us,” Bahzell argued. “I’ve given my word to see Zarantha safe home, and I’ll not be doing that if they’re pulling us all down and taking her back again. No, Wencit,” he shook his head. “Best to give them a target they can be seeing while you get her back to her father, and I’m thinking they’ll find me a mite hard to catch-aye, or to be doing aught with if they do run me down!”

“You,” Wencit said testily, “have a skull of solid rock!”

“It’s been said before, and no doubt with reason, but that’s not to say I’m wrong, is it now?” The Horse Stealer held the wizard’s glowing eyes steadily, and it was Wencit who looked away with an angry jerk of his head.

“Right or wrong, you’re not sneaking off without me,” Brandark repeated. Bahzell glared at him, and the Bloody Sword glared right back. “If Wencit is going to rely on stealth to avoid enemies, then he won’t need anyone to watch his back in a fight, and you will.”

“Brandark, I’m not wishful to see you dead,” Bahzell replied quietly, “and from all Wencit’s saying, this is my trouble, not yours.”

“I’ve had a little hand in getting you into it,” Brandark shot back. “Remember the cave? If I hadn’t been with you, you still might not even know what’s going on, in which case these bastards wouldn’t be chasing you. Besides, you need looking after. If I let you wander off without my guidance to keep you out of trouble, I’d never sleep soundly again.”

Bahzell opened his mouth, then shut it with a sigh as he recognized the fundamental hradani stubbor

“And as for you,” he said, “it’s time you stopped thinking of reasons we shouldn’t do it and started considering how to do it most effectively.” Wencit blinked at the asperity of his tone, and Brandark snorted again. “For one thing, how long will you need to get enough of a start to make it impossible for them to find you?”

“I can’t make it ‘impossible,’” Wencit said mildly after a short pause. “All I can do is make it difficult.” Brandark frowned, and the wizard smiled briefly. “I take your meaning, though. Give me two or three days of clear travel, and I can make the target area so wide it would take a special miracle for them to spot me.”