Sorgrad nodded. “You don’t want spells inside the stones. Two people finding they can’t hear each other talking will soon start wondering why.”
“It’s not that.” Shiv shook his head. “Last time we were here, there was some aetheric ward that went off like a temple bell when I’d barely summoned magic”
“I can sing a charm to hide us.” I dug a folded parchment out of my belt pouch. While Pered had been adding every last detail to Shiv’s map, I’d been copying out seemingly nonsensical words culled from Forest Folk ballads whose verses sang of enchantment. Guinalle had insisted and, in the circumstances, I hadn’t been inclined to argue. Besides, I was the one who’d been proved right when I’d insisted aetheric lore lay hidden in the lays sung in blithe ignorance by minstrels like my father. That surely entitled me to use the Artifice of my ancestors.
Sorgrad flicked the parchment with a mocking finger. “Think it’ll work?”
I stuck my tongue out at him. “Better than your magic, prentice wizard.”
“Let’s get settled.” Ryshad gestured to Shiv. “You and me opposite each other?”
“I’m thirsty,” ’Gren said abruptly. ”Where’s the nearest water fit to drink?”
“Where’s your waterskin?” Ryshad let slip exasperation.
“Empty.” ’Gren waved it provocatively.
“Fill it from the ditch,” Shiv said curtly. “I can make sure it won’t poison you.”
’Gren was about to object and I didn’t blame him when movement in the distance caught my eye. “Something’s up over yonder.”
That settled that squabble as we all ducked into the ditch. I looked out cautiously, my head barely over the lip. “That’s smoke.”
Grey smudges rose listlessly to lose themselves against the leaden sky. The wind carried incautious shouts to us and I began to make out figures among the lumps and bumps of the uneven ground.
“Someone’s setting fires.” Ryshad raised himself cautiously up on his hands for a clearer view. The smoke was marking out a distinct line by now, slewing across the grassland.
“I don’t think they’re coming this way.” I began to sing the hiding song under my breath nevertheless.
“What are they doing?” Sorgrad wondered, frustrated at not being able to see.
We all watched as the men slowly came closer and I picked out some with nets, spreading out ahead of those carrying slowly smouldering torches. “They’re smoking something out.”
The dense tussocks burned sluggishly with plenty of smoke but precious little flame. With the mossy dampness of our ditch, we were safe from any blaze with ambitions to better itself but being smoked like a Caladhrian ham became a distinct possibility. The shifting wind carried rank fumes to sting our eyes and throats.
“Someone’s coming.” Ryshad flattened himself.
I concentrated on the hiding charm as I watched a single figure falling behind the fire setters who were veering off towards a low saddle in the distant hills. Something long-tailed and russet-furred sprang up almost beneath the man’s boots but he paid no heed as it jinked and bounced away, all his attention on escaping notice as he headed for the fallen stones.
“ ’Gren, Shiv, round the back. Sorgrad, you take that side.” Ryshad gave his orders and no one disputed them. We spread out around the ditch, me between Sorgrad and Ryshad, which suited me very well. As I crouched and waited, all the while trying to keep the charm running under my breath, I considered swapping my dagger for a handful of throwing darts. There was a small vial of poison in the same belt pouch, thick paste in a sturdy jar sealed with wax and lead and sewn around with leather. I settled for untying the pouch so the darts were ready to hand if I needed them. I left the poison untouched. We wanted this man fit to give us answers and he’d be hard put to talk if he was frothing at the mouth. Besides, I wanted that venom for whatever blade was going to cut Ilkehan’s malice short. If the opportunity arose I’d happily see him disgraced if that’s what Guinalle advised, but mostly I wanted him dead. Dead, with the least chance possible he’d see his fate coming or have any chance to ward it off. Ryshad could call it justice if he wanted to and perhaps Raeponin would agree. I’d settle for vengeance, quicker and more straightforward.
“Let him get right inside the circle.” Ryshad was braced and ready in the bottom of the ditch. I huddled down as small as I could, all my concentration focused on the incantation.
The Ice Islander didn’t even glance in my direction. All his thoughts were on the pitted stone and fulfilling whatever errand had brought him here. He was stocky beneath his crude shirt and a tunic that was little more than a length of folded cloth sewn roughly up both sides. As blond as Sorgrad and ’Gren, his hair was coarser, more dry grass than finished flax. A smouldering torch hung slackly in one hand and I hoped the idiot wouldn’t set light to the old yellowed grass all around.
“Now,” Ryshad shouted in the same breath as Sorgrad’s whistle and we all sprang up to encircle our prey.
“Run and we’ll kill you.”
’Gren took a step forward to level his viciously sharp smallsword at the man’s eyes.
“Shout and no one will hear you.” Sorgrad held his own sword point down, voice more soothing than his brother’s.
Our captive seemed to understand them well enough, for all the generations separating their bloodlines. Eresken’s antics in the uplands had shown us the Mountain and Elietimm tongues had stayed mutually comprehensible.
Shiv and Ryshad were standing silent but needed no language to promise the man a fight if he tried anything. He looked warily at them before giving me a hard look. I held his gaze with all the threat I could muster.
The man’s shoulders sagged but it was only a feint. He wheeled round towards me, swirling his firebrand to raise sudden flames from the smouldering pitch and jabbed the thing full at my face.
I ducked to one side, bringing my dagger up to slice down his forearm. Ryshad and Sorgrad were almost on him from behind, so I just sought a wound deep enough to give him pause. It was his bad luck he was still trying to take my head off with the torch. He brought it down as my blade went up and the steel went straight through his wrist. I felt it grate between the small bones and hold fast. Recoiling, he pulled the dagger’s hilt out of my hand and the burning brand spun out of his nerveless fingers. I had my arm up to block it but it hit me hard all the same.
“Livak!” Ryshad looked up, horrified as he and Sorgrad pinned the man to the ground.
“It’s all right.” I rubbed a painful bruise but I’d settle for that over being scarred for life. The molten pitch was cold and solid before it hit me. “Thanks, Shiv.”
“My pleasure.” The mage grinned and kicked the torch into the ditch where it landed with a heavy clunk.
“So much for not using magic inside the circle,” observed Sorgrad lightly. “What were you saying about aetheric wards?”
As Shiv looked first chagrined and then puzzled, ’Gren grabbed the Elietimm’s collar. ”Let’s get our prize out of sight.”
The three of them dragged him backwards, his heels scoring lines on the turf as he struggled vainly to dig in his feet. Shiv and I followed as they held him against the pitted stone. Ryshad pulled his shoulders back just enough to curve his spine uncomfortably against the unyielding stone. ’Gren had the arm with the dagger still in it; heedless of the blood running down to lace his fingers.
Sorgrad stood in front of the man, Shiv on one side, me on the other.
“I believe your life would be forfeit for coming here, still more so for leaving tokens.” Sorgrad spoke in conversational tones as he searched the man’s pockets to find an embroidered ribbon tied in an elaborate bow. “More lives than your own, I wouldn’t wonder.”
The man’s eyes darted frantically between us, desperate for some hint of hope. Shiv conveyed a convincing threat, black brows slightly furrowed. Our prisoner wasn’t to know he had no clue what Sorgrad was saying. I at least knew enough to follow most simple conversations but Ryshad would be as hampered as Shiv by lack of the Mountain tongue.