Siuntio opened an ornately carven door. When Pekka saw people already at the table, she expected they’d been Raahe and Alkio and Piilis, the other theoretical sorcerers on the track of the relationship between the laws of similarity and contagion. She and Siuntio and Ilmarinen had outdistanced them, but they weren’t far behind.
Instead, though, two tall men rose from their chairs and bowed to her.
Siuntio said, “Mistress Pekka, I present to you Grandmaster Pinhiero of the Lagoan Guild of Mages and his secretary, Brinco.”
“Good day, Mistress,” Pinhiero said in good, almost unaccented Kuusaman. He was in his late middle years, his hair more gray than red. Brinco, younger and plumper, contented himself with bowing again.
“Good day,” Pekka replied, automatically polite. But then she began to wonder why she and her colleagues were meeting with two of Lagoas’ leading mages. She didn’t wonder for long; the answer seemed only too obvious. Nodding to Pinhiero and Brinco, she said, “I hope you gentlemen will excuse us for a moment. We have something that wants discussing.” She stepped out of the meeting chamber. Ilmarinen seemed glad to go with her, Siuntio rather less so.
“You see?” Ilmarinen said-to Siuntio, not to her, for he went on, “She wants no part of this, either. Letting the Lagoans share what we’ve found. . It’s madness, nothing but madness.”
“Is it?” Siuntio shrugged and then shook his head. “They’re at war with Algarve no less than we are. They have skilled mages, too, and-”
Ilmarinen’s snort cut him off. “Those two? I know their work, such as it is. They’re skilled politicos, but that’s about all. And aye, Lagoas is at war with Algarve-now. What happens when Lagoas is at war with us again, as it’s liable to be one day? The Guild of Mages will use what we teach ‘em and beat us over the head with it.”
“If we do this,” Siuntio said patiently, “we shall do it with precautions. Just as we show the Lagoans what we’ve learned, so shall they be bound to share with us whatever they may discover.”
Ilmarinen threw back his head and laughed so loud, a waiter carrying a tray of smoked whitefish into another chamber stopped and stared. “Did you ever stop to think the Lagoans might cheat? If I were in their boots, I would.”
Pekka wondered if that thought had crossed Siuntio’s mind. He was such a good man himself, he might well reckon others better than they really were. But no, not this time, for he replied, “Aye, they may cheat. So may we. They may be dangerous to us in time to come. The Algarvians are dangerous to us now. Which of these carries the greater weight?”
“You know my answer,” Ilmarinen said. “Were it up to me, I’d tell Pinhiero and Brinco to go chase themselves. Remember that other mage they sent to spy on us, that Fernao? He went away with a flea in his ear, thanks to me.”
“I remember Fernao,” Pekka said. “He wrote to me, trying to find out what I was up to. I didn’t tell him anything.”
“Well, then, let’s send these buggers home, too,” Ilmarinen said. “It’s two to one against you, Siuntio. You can’t go on dickering with them by yourself- or you’d bloody well better not, anyhow.”
“I would not,” Siuntio said. “The choice of whether or not we proceed lies with Mistress Pekka, as you say. But she has not yet stated it, so you may be speaking too soon. I also note that you have not answered the question I set you: which is more important, more dangerous-what Algarve is doing now or what Lagoas may do later?”
He looked toward Pekka. So did Ilmarinen. To Siuntio, she said, “You would have had a better chance of getting me to do what you wanted if you’d talked with me about it first.”
“I suppose so,” he answered. “But then Ilmarinen would be screaming I’d seduced you. However pleasing that prospect may be, it’s not what I had in mind. Do what you think is right. You have an instinct for it. I rely on that.”
An instinct for rightness? Pekka wanted to laugh in the senior theoretical sorcerer’s face. If she had such a gift, why weren’t the experiments going better? She glared at him and at Ilmarinen. They were both older and wiser than she; why were they leaving the choice in her hands?
Because, with all their age and wisdom, they can’t agree. The answer came back as clearly as if she’d shouted the question. She shook her head. But if I’m wrong. . oh, if I’m wrong! And they were waiting for her, waiting with impatience that grew as she looked from one of them to the other. A snap decision-her snap decision-might turn out to be crucial to the way the war turned out, and to the fate of Kuusamo for generations to come.
She almost hated them for putting that burden on her shoulders. But there it lay, and she had to bear it. Slowly, hesitantly, she said, “They are our allies. If they can help us do this thing, they had better know what we know.”
Ilmarinen scowled. Siuntio beamed. Pekka angrily turned away from both of them. They’d forced this choice on her. Now, whether she was right or wrong, she-and everybody else-would have to live with it.
Istvan trudged east along a forest path. He didn’t know what had made the path. Whatever it was, he didn’t think it was a man. The path wandered and doubled back on itself more than a man-made track would have. It hadn’t been improved as a man-made track would have, either. Istvan’s leggings were muddy all the way up to mid-thigh in proof of that.
“Accursed be the Unkerlanters,” he growled as his boots went into yet more mud. Each one made a wet, sucking sound as he pulled it free. “This stinking forest is bigger than most kingdoms, and harder to get through, too.”
“My guess is, they keep it this way on purpose,” Kun said. “With the mountains in front of it, it shields everything beyond from us.”
Szonyi grunted. “May the stars never shine on me again if I’ve seen even a single piece of Unkerlant worth having. What do you want to bet the rest of the kingdom is just as worthless?”
“Wouldn’t touch it,” Istvan said at once.
“I would,” Kun said. “Somewhere in Unkerlant, there’s country that grows pretty good soldiers. They’ve been using them against us, and they’ve been using them against the Algarvians, too. Those goat-eaters have to come from somewhere.”
As far as Istvan was concerned, the Unkerlanters might have come out from under flat rocks, like any other worms and grubs. They certainly seemed to come out from under flat rocks in the forest, striking the Gyongyosians and then slipping away again. Every few miles, they would form a line and fight-either that or, when the wind was with them, they would start a forest fire and let Istvan and his countrymen worry about that instead of any merely human foes.
Something moved in the woods off to Istvan’s left. His head whipped around toward it. “What was that?” he said sharply, raising his hand to keep his squad from moving forward into what might be an ambush.
“I didn’t see anything,” Szonyi said, almost stepping on his boot heels.
“Neither did I.” That was Kun. Though he’d gained corporal’s rank, he still thought enough like a common soldier to enjoy the chance to tell someone superior to him that he was wrong.
But Istvan didn’t think he was wrong, not this time. “Use your little magic,” he told Kun. “You’ll know when someone’s moving toward us, not so?”
“Aye,” Kun said, a little sulkily. “But I won’t be able to tell if he’s friend or foe. You know about that.”
“I’d better,” Istvan said. “You almost blazed me for a Kuusaman when we were out on that island in the Bothnian Ocean instead of stuck here in these accursed woods.”
“All right, then,” Kun said, and worked the small, quick spell-one of the sort a mage’s apprentice might learn even if his master wasn’t inclined to teach him much. After a moment, he let out a soft grunt of surprise and glanced over to Istvan. “It is a man, Sergeant-not a beast and not a bit of fluff from your imagination.”