So she used her magic to float up over the rough terrain. Then she oriented on a tree ahead of her and drew it in, which meant that instead of moving it toward her, she moved herself toward it. In this manner she gained on the horse’s progress along the winding road, and came back to land almost in sight of him. It was nervous business, because despite his reassurance, she feared being seen.
She heard the clip-clop of his hooves on the road, and forged on toward him. Then she realized that she was actually ahead of him; there was no need to hurry. Buck off the despot, and gallop here to me, she thought to him. This mind-magic was wonderful!
There was a sound. Then a man in a black tunic sailed up in the air beyond the bushes, and hovered there, surprised. He had made himself float rather than crash to land, but meanwhile the horse was galloping swiftly away.
The despot was facing away from her, having gotten turned when unseated. Nona gambled, and floated up herself, drifting over the road. When the horse caught up with her, she conjured a large rad ahead of him violently toward her. Since the rad was well anchored and far more massive than she was, the effect was to move her forward with a burst of energy to match the horse’s velocity, and dropped down to his back. She grabbed onto his mane and hung on.
He slowed immediately. Guide me, he thought, now walking swiftly. She discovered that it was not hard to stay on him, because she was in touch with his mind and knew what he was doing; there was no conflict between them. She sat in the saddle the despot had placed, and felt almost confident.
That way! she thought, making a picture in her mind showing where there was an old path through the rough land. She had used that path as a girl to go berry picking, and suspected the despots didn’t know about it. The ploy was effective; the despot floated on along the road, assuming that the horse was still running ahead. Despots had much magic, but could use only one type at a time; otherwise the man would have made a picture of the road ahead, and realized that the horse was not there.
So her little trick had worked. Nona followed up by using her magic to scatter the sand and dirt the horse’s hooves had printed, so that no sign of his recent passage remained. Unfortunately this path went nowhere useful to them at the moment; it wound down to the shore of the sea. They would have to turn and go along the shore, and the despot would soon find them. It was possible to search a wide area, with the command of illusion that a despot had. Their time was limited.
Then she had an idea. Seqiro, do you mind the water?
I like water.
Suppose I weight you down with rocks, so you can stand under the water, and I make a hood with a tube so you can breathe? I think the despot will never think to look for you there. His image will not work well under water, even if he tries.
Seqiro understood her concept immediately, for her mind was open to him in image as well as word. Yes.
Now she used her magic to fashion the hood. She summoned a stick of wood from the ground, held it in her hand, and changed it into a hood that would fit snugly over the horse’s head, with transparent places so he could see out. It had a long flexible tube projecting from the top. The end of the tube widened out into a twisted shape resembling driftwood. “Now let me put this on you,” she murmured. She had forgotten to focus her thought, but realized that the act of talking did that automatically; he still understood her.
Because he knew her mind, the horse did not flinch as Nona reached forward and worked the cumbersome device over his head. When the thing covered his eyes, he saw through hers. Then she got it down, and tied it under his chin, firmly. It looked weird, but she thought it should work.
“Now let me weight you with stones, so you can walk into the water,” she said. She used magic to make a harness that fitted before and after the saddle, and floated heavy rocks into it. The work was tiring, for magic was merely another way of doing what a person could have done by hand, as far as the use of energy went, but she didn’t stint. She was afraid that at any time the despot would discover his mistake and fly down the side path and find them.
Seqiro walked into the sea. The descent was moderate here, so that he had no trouble with the footing. Nona knew that the waves of the sea had battered the smaller rads of this region into sand. Man and nature kept changing the virgin world, and that was perhaps inevitable, but also sad. Weighted by the stones, Seqiro moved deeper, until the whole of his body was below the surface. Nona had to conjure additional stones to weight herself down, so that she would not float, and make a hood for herself: a detail she had almost forgotten.
The water was cold: another detail she had not thought of. Fortunately she was able to take a strand of seaweed and transform it into a thick warm suit for herself; she was plastered-wet, but the suit kept her warm. Then she made a similar covering for Seqiro, in patchwork pieces, until he said he felt comfortable.
They stood under the sea, their breathing tubes reaching up to their driftwood floats. The air did not taste good, but it sufficed. They seemed to be safe; all they had to do was wait.
“Is the despot close?” she murmured into her hood.
He is close, but ignorant; he is on the path but not at the shore.
Good. He was just casting about, with no idea where they had gone. Probably he hadn’t even sent a picture back to the castle to explain the situation, because he didn’t want to have the blame for losing the horse. He hoped to find and recover the horse and complete his mission in good order. If so, that was also their fortune; there would be no immediate large-scale action by the despots.
Still, the situation was bleak enough. The loss of the horse would soon be known regardless, and Nona’s absence from the village would be suspicious. She had committed herself the moment she came after Seqiro, and would not be able to return to her prior life. Now she had to press forward to victory for herself and the visitors, or to disaster.
She would have preferred that it had not happened. She was not, it seemed, as adventurous a girl as she had thought. Right now, the prospect of settling into a comfortable life with Stave strongly appealed. But she had always known that it was not her destiny to be a wife and mother, and that she would save her people if she could. In fact now, when she was in danger, was the only time she reflected with favor on married existence. It was, she realized, not adventure which made her nervous, but danger. If she could go to far places, and explore strange lands, and meet unusual people, with little actual threat to herself, then it would be ideal.
You belong with us, Seqiro thought.
“But I don’t even know who you are, really,” she protested. “Just that you came from places I can’t fathom, and have powers no one here does.”
I will tell you about us. We are each from a different reality. The laws of the universe are different in each one. I am from one in which the horses are telepathic—
“What?”
This is what Colene calls it. You call it mind-magic. The horses use it to control the human beings and make them do the necessary chores. Human beings are useful because they have versatile hands.
“But why did you leave, then?”
I was dissatisfied with that life. I wanted to explore new frontiers and gain new understandings.
“So do I!” Nona exclaimed.
So when I became aware of the forming Virtual Mode, I took it, and found Colene.
“The what?”