Just forward of the bow, a huge azure portal formed. Its swirling vortex was as tall and as broad as the ship.
Then the howling increased. Shailiha thought her eardrums might burst, and suddenly felt terrified. She had been through one of Faegan’s portals before, but it had never made noise.
As the vortex engulfed the bow of the Reprise, Shailiha began to feel the effects of the portal making her sleepy and dizzy. She tried to call out to Tyranny, but she couldn’t make her mouth work, much less make herself heard above the din.
Her head slumped to her breast.
Far above, Faegan and the others watched as the shrieking, whirling azure portal swallowed up the warship and then disappeared.
STUNNED, BRATACH LOWERED HIS SPYGLASS. HE STOOD UPON the invisible frigate, his endowed blood shielded from Faegan’s senses, savoring the marvelous coincidence that had seen him checking his ship and its demonslavers the same day Faegan had used his portal. Initially, his interest had been piqued by the sight of Tyranny and the Minions making preparations to get under way. Then, when Faegan had unexpectedly appeared in a litter overhead, he knew he would simply have to stay to learn what he could.
What the crafty, crippled old wizard had just accomplished was impressive. Bratach could not be sure where the Reprise was going, but he had his suspicions. Still, if the plan was to attack the Citadel, why send only one ship? The Minion force aboard her was not sufficient to seize the island. Why weren’t the First Wizard and the Jin’Sai aboard? But in the end, none of that mattered. Even if that was where the Reprise was headed, Bratach had no way to warn his lord in time.
Looking back to the sky, he saw Faegan’s litter depart for Tammerland. As the litter shrank against the sunset, another thought occurred to him. Faegan had been very clever—but not quite clever enough. Now Bratach knew Faegan’s secret of the portal. When his master arrived, together they would turn it against their enemy.
Smiling, Bratach turned and walked down the deck, feeling his way along the invisible gunwale until he found the gangway. He walked carefully down the stairs and went to confer with his demonslavers.
MORE THAN HALFWAY ACROSS THE SEA, AN AZURE RADIANCE grew and grew until the portal’s swirling vortex formed and the deafening howling began. It was night and the seas were high. The sky was cloudy and threatening. In the distance the first branches of lightning were visible, scratching their way closer across the darkness.
Like some plague-ridden ghost ship from the past suddenly returned to haunt the present, the Reprise was vomited from the portal’s mouth to land harshly upon the waves. Its job done, the portal vanished.
The ocean tossed the ship back and forth mercilessly. One of her masts was cracked and her bowsprit was gone. Her sails still furled and her ship’s wheel tied off, she was helpless against the sea.
Then the first of the stressed planks in her keel suddenly let loose. Seawater rushed in. The storm arrived and the rain began in earnest, bringing with it thunder and lighting. White-capped waves rose higher as the storm-tossed ship began to list from the water invading her belly. Despite the storm and the ship’s violent rocking, none of those aboard had yet awoken from the passage through the portal.
Her head lying upon her chest and the gold medallion around her neck swinging back and forth in the relentless rain, Shailiha of the House of Galland slumped forward in her bonds.
Then lightning clove the mizzen mast in two. When it came crashing down upon the deck it fell upon deaf ears.
CHAPTER XXVIII
_____
LYING ON HIS BACK BEFORE THE CAMPFIRE, WITH HIS HEAD propped up on a log, Geldon contemplated all of the amazing things he had witnessed over the course of the last several days. In his heart he had to admit that none of it was good.
They were close to Tammerland. They had stopped to make camp just west of Tanglewood, near the still-smoldering canyon that the rampaging orb had gouged into the earth. The note he had sent by Minion messenger would soon reach the wizards. But after seeing the orb cut through the Tolenka Mountains, he knew that he had to return there to observe it again, if he was to have any hope of ever properly describing it. The wizards would have many questions. He hoped he could answer them.
He had wanted to leave Ox in charge of the Minion party remaining with the orb, but the huge warrior wanted to see Tristan again. Geldon had finally relented and left an officer of Ox’s choosing in charge. His orders were to send a warrior to the palace immediately should there be any change in either the condition of the orb or its direction of travel. Thrilled to be in charge of his first command, the young Minion had clicked his heels sharply.
The destruction of Brook Hollow, the encounter with the birds and animals fleeing the forest fire, and then his escape from an onrushing glacier had all taken their toll upon Geldon’s nerves. That was to say nothing of watching the orb cut through solid granite. It would be good to be back in the palace again, he thought, and to sleep in his own bed.
He smiled. He could already picture the vein in Wigg’s forehead throbbing, and Faegan as he sat there calmly in his chair on wheels, stroking his dark blue cat while the two wizards listened to Geldon’s every word.
He took another long pull of akulee from the carved stone jug he held. The Minion ale was exceedingly strong. Since traveling with the Minions, he had developed a taste for the bitter concoction. Taking another sip, he promised himself that he wouldn’t become drunk.
The night was clear, and a million stars competed with one another for space in the heavens. A stag had been hunted down and killed by two of the warriors; the slowly roasting venison smelled wonderful as a cook turned it on the spit. The flickering firelight showed up the sides of the dozen or so tents that had been erected.
Geldon could occasionally see flying warriors on patrol, their dark silhouettes flashing spectrally across the faces of the three Eutracian moons. The mighty Sippora River babbled happily by only a few meters away. For the first time since leaving the palace the dwarf was beginning to feel relaxed.
Ox came over and sat down heavily in the grass. He picked up the akulee jug, took a long drink, and then wiped his mouth with the back of one hand.
Smiling at Geldon, he handed the jug back. His mood more sanguine than it had been in days, Geldon took another swig.
“Warriors say for one your size you drink akulee good,” Ox said in his broken Eutracian. “You also brave. If you be bigger and have wings, you make good Minion.”
Looking back into the fire, Geldon laughed.
Another warrior walked up. In his hands he held a plate that was piled high with freshly cooked venison. With a bow, he placed it on the ground between them, and Ox and Geldon ate greedily, washing the meat down with gulps of akulee.
The sound of music suddenly surprised Geldon. Looking around, he saw a warrior sitting on a tree stump near the edge of the camp and strumming a lyre. The melody that wafted through the air was lovely. Then the warrior began reciting something as he played. Other warriors gathered around him, listening with rapt attention.
Geldon turned to Ox. The Minion scowled.
“That be H’rani,” he said, chewing and talking at the same time. “He always be playing that thing.”
“What is it that he is reciting?”
“It be love poem,” Ox answered. Yet another hunk of meat went into his mouth. “He write himself.”
Even more interested, Geldon sat up a little. He knew that the Minions were great builders, shipwrights, and warriors. But he had never known any of them to demonstrate a talent for the finer arts.
“He’s very good,” Geldon said. “We should thank him.”
Taking up the jug again, Ox drank for what seemed forever. Some of the ale ran sloppily down his chin and onto his black body armor. Finally he stopped and wiped his face. A loud wet belch followed. Smiling, Geldon shook his head a little.
&nb
sp; “No need thank H’rani,” Ox answered. “Thank Jin’Sai.”
“What do you mean?”
“Ever since Jin’Sai free female Minions and Gallipolai that day in Parthalon, they act strange. Females want men come court them before take as wife. But Minion warriors not know how. For centuries they only take. Some like new ways, some not. All females seem to like much better. Ox find it all strange. But is law of Jin’Sai, so all males respect it.” Ox looked critically toward H’rani.
“It said that H’rani soon ask for hand of Gallipolai,” Ox added, his mouth twisting with mild disgust. “That she like this thing with lyre. One of acolytes give H’rani lyre and show him how play. Then he make up poem. Other warriors hear him, and now want also learn.” He shook his head with a derisive snort.
“You don’t seem to approve,” Geldon said lightly.
“Ox believe it be embarrassing for true Minion warrior.”
Geldon smiled. “What’s the matter?” he asked. “Don’t you think that a Minion can be a warrior and a poet, too?”
With a dissatisfied grunt, Ox started tearing into another piece of meat. Geldon settled back to listen to the music.
So much is changing, the dwarf thought.
TRYING HER BEST TO EXERCISE PATIENCE AND CONTROL, SATINE realized that she had only a few more meters to go.
As she lay upon her belly in the dewy underbrush, she raised her eyes a fraction and quickly noted her bearings. She had been crawling through the thick undergrowth for nearly an hour, and time was precious now. At any moment her target might move, rendering all of her painstaking work meaningless.
Her black combat clothing was soaked through. Clenching her jaw, she fought back the urge to shiver.
As she had traveled north on horseback she had followed the scar in the earth left by the orb, just as Bratach’s note had told her to do. Coming up over a ridge, she had seen the Minion campfires burning in the valley below. She also knew that she would never be able to cross that much illuminated ground without being seen. Another way would have to be found.
Leaving her horse behind, she selected only what she would need to do the job. She placed the items into a waterproof oilskin bag. After changing into her dark clothing, she slung the bag over her back and crept down the rise to stand on the banks of the Sippora.
She slipped silently into the river and began wading north along the bank, heading upstream. With only her nose and eyes above the surface of the water, the going was very hard. Twice she had been forced to stop and rest, clinging to vines that lined the shore. Twice she had been forced to submerge entirely, when Minion patrols appeared overhead. Every bone in her body ached from the cold, but her discipline held.
In the end it had been worth it. She was now only about fifty meters from the camp. Suddenly the sound of music came to her ears, and she paused for a moment to listen. She smiled. The noise was welcome; it could do nothing but help her.
She slithered like a snake up the western side of the riverbank and entered the dense undergrowth. There she silently crawled forward, one agonizingly slow meter at a time. Then she heard voices that were all too close, and she froze.
At least two Minion warriors walked through the shorter grass on her left. They couldn’t be more than four or five meters away. Satine slowly moved her hands down toward the daggers on either side of her thighs. Then the warriors’ voices went still, and she sensed that they had stopped.
Praying that they hadn’t detected her presence, Satine controlled her breathing and calmed her heart. If she had to attack them she would. But that might alert the entire camp—in which case, she’d be done for.
As she lay there awaiting her fate, the wind swished the grasses to and fro. She felt as though Eutracia’s three moons conspired to shine their light down upon her alone. Despite the chill of the night air and the cold, wet clothing sticking to her skin, beads of sweat began to form beneath her black mask and run maddeningly down her face. Still, she did not move.
Suddenly she heard the sound of streaming water. She listened as it went on for a bit. It finally ended. Satine allowed herself a slight smile. With nature’s call having been answered, the warriors began to move again, laughing as they went.
A few moments later, she risked raising herself up on her hands to look. She watched them enter the camp and blend in among the other winged ones. She also noted that her target was still in the same place. Thanking her good fortune, she lowered herself back to the ground and resumed her slow forward crawl.
After another half hour of slow progress, she stopped on a short rise that overlooked the campsite. The foliage surrounding her was high, keeping her well concealed, but she would soon be discovered if she did not quickly finish her business.
The huge bearded warrior and the hunchbacked dwarf sat side by side, eating and drinking in the light of the fire. The smell of roasted venison made her stomach growl. She was less than ten meters from the edge of the camp.
Reaching behind her, she grasped the oilskin pouch and placed it on the ground. She opened it and removed four items.
The first was a small leather case. Two dull wooden tubes followed. Inside, the fine, aged Eutracian maple had been carefully polished smooth. Grasping the first of them, she inserted one of its ends into the end of the other, making sure that it seated properly. Then she placed the joined tubes on the ground beside her.
Next she opened the case. It separated like two halves of a book. It protected the vial of violet fluid she had purchased from Reznik, as well as a set of darts. Short and slim, they had been charmed by Reznik to dissolve immediately upon impact, while the insect wings attached to them were charmed to stay attached in flight. She smiled at the cleverness of it all.
She selected one dart, carefully opened the vial, dipped the tip of the dart into the poison, and then closed the vial again. She placed the dart into the near end of the tube and replaced the tube on the ground. She was nearly ready.
She took up the fourth item. It was a small, forked twig cut the day before from a hinteroot tree. She placed it on the ground just forward of her head. She looked back down into the campsite. Blessedly, nothing had changed.
She took the branch and pushed one end of it into the ground. The Y-shaped fork pointed upward. Closing one eye, she then twisted the branch in the ground until it was facing just right. She reached back for the tube and gently placed its far end into the crook of the upright branch. Her target sat just beyond.
Finally ready, Satine closed her eyes. She took several deep breaths and then she held the last one in. She placed her mouth against the near end of the tube, took careful aim, and waited for the wind to abate.
The grasses surrounding Satine stopped swaying. Her time was at hand. She remained immobile, lying as silent as death as she sighted the blowgun on her victim. Using everything she had, she expelled the air from her lungs into the tube.
After a final look, the Gray Fox smiled. Then she collected her things and began slinking back the way she had come.
WHEN HE FELT THE BITE GELDON INSTINCTIVELY REACHED UP and slapped himself on the side of the neck. Looking down at his hand he saw a small bit of his own blood and the remains of smashed insect wings. Scowling, he wiped his hand down the length of his trousers and then looked over at Ox. The Minion was still eating.
“I’ve just been bitten again,” Geldon grumbled.
The side of his neck began to itch, and he scratched it. He could feel the usual bump on the skin begin to rise. He had been bitten several times since coming to live in Eutracia, and he found it annoying.
“What is it that they call these things again?” he asked.
In between bites of the venison, Ox grinned.
“They be derma-gnashers,” he answered. “They be pesky, but they not be dangerous.”
“Wigg and Faegan should rid the land of these nuisances,” Geldon grous
ed as he settled back down against the log. He scratched his neck again. Attempting to ignore the bite, he turned his attention back to the warrior playing the lyre and reciting the love poems.
As he did, a warrior walked up and tossed another log upon their fire.
GELDON SAID GOOD NIGHT AND RETIRED TO HIS TENT. FULL OF meat and swill, Ox happily fell asleep by the fire. Several hours passed as the moons chased each other across the sky.
But when the screaming started the entire camp came alive.
Ox was on his feet immediately. He turned around, frantic, unable to find the source of the noise. Then Geldon came tearing out of his tent. His eyes bulged; his face was so red Ox thought it might burst. In his hand he held a dagger, which he waved all about like a madman. He was only half clothed.
Glaring at the warriors, he began screaming vulgar, insulting epithets at them. Ox and the others simply stood there, staring at him. Never in their lives had they seen anyone in command of the Minions act this way. It seemed that the dwarf had suddenly gone insane.
Geldon’s rantings became even more abusive. He waved the knife faster. Uncertainly, Ox took a tentative step forward. Holding the knife higher, Geldon backed away like a cornered animal.
“What be wrong?” Ox asked, holding out his hands. He looked Geldon up and down again. “You be ill?”
“No, I’m not ill, you winged moron!” Geldon snarled at him. Reaching up, he wiped some of the sweat from his face. A bit of foam dripped from one corner of his mouth. Then a wicked smile came.
“And none of you abominations of the craft can stop me! If any of you come closer, I’ll kill you all, I swear it!”
More confused than ever, Ox searched Geldon’s face. It was the face of one who had lost all reason.
“What you want do?” the great warrior asked.
Geldon lowered the knife for a moment and a brief look of calm passed over him.
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