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marching through the forest again, and his concern that Ral would be
destroyed.
"If Kakzim knew that the moons were going to crash-"
Commandant Javed cut him short with a withering look. "Hamanu won't let that
happen. He slid little Ral right across the face of Guthay when I was a boy,
and he'll do it again. Why do you think we're here with no magicians in our
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maniples and nothing more than a bit of halfling hair as our guide? Our king's
not going to have any magic to spare for a few days, but the moons will
survive."
Pavek bit his lip and held silent while he weighed what the Lion-King had told
him about how using magic now would destroy Urik. Easier to believe that no
spells would be available until after the sorcerer-king had prevented
catastrophe in the heavens than to think Hamanu had been serious bout birthing
dragons and the death of Urik.
Which thoughts made Pavek wonder why the Lion-King would have lied to him
about such a matter, if the truth were so linked to this mission. That was not
a question to ask Commandant Javed.
"I hadn't thought of it that way, Commandant," he said. "You're right. Of
course."
"You're young yet. There's a lot to learn that never gets taught. You just
have to put the pieces together yourself- remember that."
Pavek assured the older, wiser elf that he would, and their march through the
forest continued. The sense that the forest itself was hostile to them grew
steadily stronger until Javed and the maniple templars sensed it also.
"It's too damned quiet," Javed concluded. "Trees. I hate trees. The forest is
an ambusher's paradise. They can put their scouts in the branches and tell
their troops to lie low in the shade beneath them. Get out your hair, Lord
Pavek; see if our halfling's tried to close a trap behind us."
It was the trees themselves that were looking down on them-at least that's
what Pavek thought. The hair indicated it as well. Its line hadn't varied
since they used it first at Khelo: Kakzim was still ahead of them.
But the two-time Hero of Urik took no chances. He tightened their formation,
giving orders to every third templar: "Keep your eyes on the trees ahead of
us, on either side, and especially behind. Anything moves, sing out. I'd
sooner duck from wind and shadows than have halflings running up our rumps."
They did a lot of shadow dodging that morning, but they also got a heartbeat's
warning before the first arrow flew at them. Trusting their silk tunics and
leather armor, Commandant Javed ordered the maniples together in a tight
circle. He commanded them to kneel, presenting smaller targets to the hidden
archers and safeguarding their unprotected legs.
"Defend your face! That's where you're vulnerable," Javed shouted, taking his
own advice when an arrow whizzed toward him. "But mark where the arrows are
coming from. We'll take these forest-scum brigands when their quivers are
empty."
The soft, smooth silk lived up to the commandant's claims, and the
lightweight, slow-moving arrows failed to find targets time and again. One
templar cried out when an arrow grazed her hand, and moments later she'd
fallen unconscious. But she was their only casualty, and gradually the arrow
flights came to a halt and the forest was silent.
"Mark where you saw 'em. Move out in pairs." This time the commandant gave his
orders in a voice that wouldn't carry to the trees. "We don't have to catch
them all, just one or two." Then he turned to Pavek and whispered: "You mark
any, my lord?"
Pavek pointed to a crook halfway up one substantial tree where he'd spotted a
shadowed silhouette against the branches.
Javed flashed his black-and-white smile. "Let's go catch us a halfling-"
But fickle fortune was against the heroes. Their quarry dropped down and hit
the ground running. Javed's elven legs weren't what they'd been in his prime,
and Pavek had never been much of a sprinter. The halfling went to ground in a
stand of bramble bushes.
Other pairs were luckier. When the maniples reassembled near the body of the
unconscious templar, they had captured four halflings, none of whom seemed to
understand a word Commandant Javed said when he asked where their village was.
Intimidation was an art among templars. Pavek had been taught the basic skills
in the orphanage. Being big, which Pavek had always been, and ugly, which he'd
become early on life, Pavek had a natural advantage. The joke was that he was
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a born intimidator, but the truth was that Pavek didn't enjoy making other
folk writhe in terror or anxiety. He was good at it because he hated it, and
now that he held the highest rank imaginable, he intended never to
professionally intimidate anyone again. He gave a hands-off gesture and
stepped aside to allow the commandant to finish what he'd begun.
"You're lying," Javed told the captives who knelt before him. He looked aside
to Pavek and began speaking above heads that rose no higher than his thigh.
"My name is Commandant Javed of Urik, and I give you my word as a commandant
that we're searching for one man, one male halfling with blond hair and slave
scars on his face. He committed crimes in Urik, and he will answer for them.
No one else need fear us. We won't harm you or your families or your homes if
you give us the criminal we've come for. You will help us-understand that.
Dead or alive, one of you will guide us to your homes. Now, which one of you
will it be?"
The commandant's voice had been calm and steady throughout his short speech.
By simply watching him or listening to the tone of his voice, it would have
been difficult for the halflings to know that he was talking to them, or for
them to realize the threatening promise he'd made-if they truly didn't
understand the words he'd uttered. And that was the impression the captives
strove to convey: none of them volunteered to be the templars' guide.
From the side, Pavek knew what was coming next. He'd seen two of the halflings
flinch when Javed implied the necromancy for which the templarates were
infamous. A third had lowered his eyes when the commandant asked for a
volunteer. Although necromancy would be more difficult without borrowed
spellcraft, Pavek trusted that Javed wouldn't have made the threat if he
didn't have the means to carry it through. He also trusted that one of the
other templars would have seen the halflings' reaction and would report them
to the commandant. Pointing out an enemy who'd shot poisoned arrows at him
didn't trouble him, but condemning a man to death and worse because he
wouldn't betray his home and family wasn't something Pavek could do.
As Ruari had told him when they'd argued in Escrissar's garden, he had a
convenient conscience.
And not long to wait. The maniple templars had caught all four halflings
reacting to Javed's speech. The commandant grabbed the lone woman in the
group, not-Pavek assumed-strictly because of her sex, but because she had
huddled close by one of the men. When templars of any rank, from any bureau,
wanted fast intimidation results, they turned their attention to the smaller,
weaker partner in a pair, if a pair was available. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]