Then a gnarled finger lifted from the cudgel. «Do you do magic?»
«I…» Jair glanced at the dark faces about him.
The cudgel came up, a quick, sharp blow that caught Jair across the knees, throwing him to the earth once more. The Gnome smiled, eyes hard. He yanked Jair back to his feet.
«Answer me — do you do magic?»
Jair nodded wordlessly, mute with pain. He could barely stand.
«Show me,” the Gnome ordered.
«Spilk.» Slanter’s voice broke softly through the sudden silence. «You might want to reconsider that request.»
Spilk glanced briefly at Slanter, then dismissed him. His eyes returned to Jair. «Show me.»
Jair hesitated. Again the cudgel came up. Even though Jair was ready this time, he could not move fast enough to avoid the blow. It caught him alongside the face. Pain exploded in his head, and tears flooded his eyes. He dropped to his knees, but Spilk’s thick hands knotted in his tunic and once more he was hauled to his feet.
«Show me!» the Gnome demanded.
Then anger flooded through Jair — anger so intense that it burned. He gave no thought to what he did next; he simply acted. A quick, muted cry broke from his lips and turned abruptly to a frightening hiss. Instantly Spilk was covered with huge gray spiders. The Gnome Sedt shrieked in dismay, tearing frantically at the great hairy insects, falling back from Jair. The Gnomes behind him scattered, spears and cudgels hammering downward as they sought to keep the spiders from their own bodies. The Sedt went down under a flurry of blows, thrashing upon the forest earth, trying to dislodge the terrible things that clung so tenaciously to him, his cries filling the morning air.
Jair sang a moment longer and then quit. Had he not been bound hand and foot or had he not been dizzy still from the blows struck by Spilk, he would have taken advantage of the confusion the wishsong’s use had created to attempt an escape.
But Slanter had made certain he could not run. As the anger left him he grew silent.
For a few seconds Spilk continued to roll upon the ground, tearing at himself. Then abruptly he realized that the spiders were gone. Slowly he came to his knees, his breathing harsh and ragged, his battered face twisting until his eyes found Jair. He surged to his feet with a howl and threw himself at the Valeman, gnarled hands reaching. Jair stumbled back, his legs tangling in the ropes. In the next instant, the Gnome was atop him, fists hammering wildly. Dozens of blows struck Jair’s head and face, seemingly all at once. Pain and shock washed through him.
Then everything went black.
He came awake again only moments later. Slanter knelt next to him, dabbing at his face with a cloth soaked in cold water. The water stung, and he jerked sharply at its touch.
«You got more sand than brains, boy,” the Gnome whispered, bending close. «You all right?»
Jair nodded, reaching up to touch his face experimentally. Slanter knocked his hand away.
«Leave it be.» He dabbed a few more times with the cloth, then allowed a faint grin to cross his rough face. «Scared old Spilk half to death, you did. Half to death!»
Jair glanced past Slanter to where the remainder of the patrol huddled at the far side of the clearing, eyes darting watchfully in his direction. Spilk stood apart from everyone, his face black with anger.
«Had to pull him off you myself,” Slanter was saying. «Would have killed you otherwise. Would have beat your head in.»
«He asked me to show him the magic,” Jair muttered, swallowing hard. «So I did.»
The thought clearly amused the Gnome, and he permitted himself another faint smile, carefully averting his face from the Sedt. Then he put his arm about Jair’s shoulders and raised him to a sitting position. Pouring a short ration of ale from the container at his waist, he gave the Valeman a drink. Jair accepted the ale, swallowing and choking as it burned clear down to his stomach.
«Better?»
«Better,” Jair agreed.
«Then listen.» The smile was gone. «I’ve got to gag you again. You’re in my care now — the others won’t have anything to do with you. You’re to be kept bound and gagged except for meals. So behave. It’s a long journey.»
«A long journey to where?» Jair did not bother to conceal the alarm in his eyes.
«East. The Agar. You’re to be taken to the Mord Wraiths. Spilk’s decided. He wants them to have a look at your magic.» The Gnome shook his head solemnly. «Sorry, but there’s no help for it. Not after what you did.»
Before Jair could say anything, Slanter shoved the gag back into his mouth. Then, loosing the ties that bound Jair’s ankles, he pulled the Valeman to his feet. Producing a short length of rope, he looped one end through Jair’s belt and tied the other end to his own.
«Spilk,” he called over to the other.
The Gnome Sedt turned wordlessly, and started off into the forest. The remainder of the patrol followed after.
«Sorry, boy,” Slanter repeated.
Together, they walked from the clearing into the early morning mist.
Chapter Seven
All that day, the Gnomes marched Jair north through the wooded hill country bordering the western perimeter of Leah. Embracing the shelter of the trees, forsaking the more accessible roadways that crisscrossed the highlands, they kept to themselves and to their purpose. It was a long, exhausting trek for the Valeman, made no less difficult by the way in which he was secured, for his bonds cut into and cramped his body with every step. His discomfort might not have gone unnoticed, but it went unrelieved. Nor did his captors evidence the slightest concern for the toll that the pace of their march was extracting from him. Rugged, hardened veterans of the border wars of the deep Eastland, they were accustomed to forced marches through the worst kind of country and under the least favorable of conditions — marches that at times lasted several days. Jair was fit, but he was no match for these men.
By nightfall, when they at last arrived on the shores of the Rainbow Lake and made their way down to a secluded cove to set their camp, Jair could barely walk. Bound once again to a tree, given a quick meal and a few swallows of ale, he was asleep in minutes.
The following day passed in similar fashion. Awake at sunrise, the Gnomes took him east along the shores of the lake, skirting the northern highlands that they might reach the concealment of the Black Oaks. Three times that day, the Gnomes paused to rest — once at midmorning, again at midday and a final time at midafternoon. The remainder of the day, they walked and Jair walked with them, his body aching, his feet blistered and raw. Pushed to the limit of his endurance, he refused to give them the satisfaction of seeing him falter, even for a moment. Determination gave him strength, and he kept pace.
All the time they marched him through the highlands, he thought about escape. It never entered his mind that he wouldn’t escape; it was only a question of when. He even knew hove he would manage it. That part was easy. He would simply make himself invisible to them. That was something they wouldn’t be looking for — not so long as they thought his magic limited to creating imaginary spiders and snakes. They didn’t understand that he could do other things as well. Sooner or later he would be given the opportunity. They would free him just long enough so that he could make use of the magic one more time. Just a moment was all that he would need. Like that, he would be gone. The certainty of it burned bright within him.
There was added incentive now for his need to escape. Slanter had told him that the walker that had come into the Vale with the Gnome patrol had gone east again in search of Allanon. But how was Allanon to know that the Mord Wraith tracked him? There was only Jair to warn him, and the Valeman knew he must find a way to do so.