Christopher Stasheff - King Kobold Revived

“Huh?” Rod’s scowl deepened. “ ‘Not in concert’? What did you want—a drum-and-bugle corps?”

“Nay, my lord.” Gwen visibly fought for patience. “We could not join our powers—and there were too many soldiers for poor two of us. We did attempt to cast our thoughts into all their minds—but we did it side by side, not by blending both our powers into one.”

“I take it you think it’s possible to merge your powers,” Rod said softly.

“Mayhap.” Gwen frowned, gaze drifting to the window. “When two who can hear thoughts do touch, there is ever some greater sense of contact—threat, I should say; for I’ve never known two who have risked reaching out through touch to thoughts.”

The door shot open, and Brom O’Berin stumped in, followed by two men-at-arms, each with a shoulder under one of Toby’s arms. The young warlock limped between them, panting, “Nay! I… I can bear mine own…”

“Thou canst scarcely bear thine head upon thy shoulders, now,” Brom growled. “Indeed, an thou wert a crab tree, thou couldst not bear an apple. There,” he said to the two men-at-arms, nodding toward a chair. They lowered the young warlock carefully, and he sagged back, mouth gaping open, eyes closed, panting in huge hoarse gasps.

“What ails him?” Gwen cried.

“Naught but exhaustion.” Brom’s mouth held tight. “Were his news not vital, I would have sent him to his bed.”

“Young idiot! I told him to call for a relief!” Rod strode over to the teenager and caught up a wrist, feeling for the pulse. “Didn’t you bring any wine?”

Brom turned to the doorway and snapped his fingers. A page scurried in, wide-eyed and apprehensive, bearing a tray with a flagon and a flask. Brom caught them up, poured the mug half-full, and held it to Toby’s lips. “A sip only, my lad, then a draught. Attempt it, there’s a good fellow.”

Toby sipped, and promptly coughed. Rod thumped him on the back till the boy nodded weakly, then sipped again. It stayed down, so he took a big swallow.

“Feel a little better now?” Rod asked.

Toby nodded and sighed.

“Don’t fall asleep on us,” Rod said quickly. “What did you see?”

“Only the dragon ship, and miles and miles of water,” Toby sighed. “I sickened at the sight. I swear I’ll never drink the stuff again!” And he took a long pull on the wine.

“Steady there, now,” Rod cautioned. “So they sailed a lot. Which way did they go?”

“West,” Toby said firmly, “west and south. I called for Giles, and set him to the following, whiles I appeared upon my bed and slept till he did call to say he’d sighted land. Then I appeared beside him and sent him home. He was sorely tired, seest thou, whilst I was fresh.”

From the gray cast of the youth’s face, Rod doubted that. “There was also a little matter of possible danger if you’d reached their homeland.”

“Well, that too,” Toby admitted. “In any case, the journey’s end was mine affair. The danger was not great; the sky was lightening but not yet dawning, and clouds still hung low and heavy.”

“E’en so, I had hoped thou wouldst not take too great a chance,” Gwen said. “What had the beastmen come home to?”

“A bend of land in the coastline,” Toby explained, “low land, with high sky-reaching cliffs behind it a mile or two from shore.”

Rod nodded. “How big was the low land?”

“Mayhap some five miles wide.”

“He describes an alluvial plain,” Fess’s voice murmured in Rod’s ear.

“You’re a better observer than I knew,” Rod told the youth. “What was on the plain?”

“A village.” Toby looked up at him. “Huts of daub and wattle, at a guess—round and with thatched roofs. Around and about their fields they did lie, with greening crops.”

“Farmers?” Rod frowned, puzzled. “Not the kind of people you’d expect to go pillaging. Any idea how many huts there were?”

Toby shook his head. “More than I could count at ease, Lord Warlock. ‘Twas as far across as any village I ha’ seen in Gramarye.”

“Village,” Rod repeated. “Not a town?”

Toby pursed his lips. “Well… mayhap a small town… Still, the houses were set far apart.”

“Maybe a thousand households, then. How’d they react when they saw the dragon ship come back?”

“They did not,” said Toby.

“What?” Rod gawked. “They didn’t react? Not at all?”

“Nay—they did not see it. ‘Twas not yet dawn, as I’ve said, and the dragon ship did not come to the village. Nay, it sailed instead to southward, and found a narrow river-mouth just where the cliffs came down to join the water. Then the beast-men unshipped oars and furled their sail and rowed their ship upstream, until they slipped into a crack within the cliff-wall from which their river issued.”

“A crack.” Rod kept his face expressionless.

Toby nodded. “ ‘Twas a crack thou couldst have marched thy Flying Legion through, milord; but in that vast wall of rock ’twas nonetheless a crack.”

“So they sailed into a river-pass.” Rod frowned, trying to make sense of it. “What happened then?”

“Naught to speak of. When they slipped into the cliff-face, I dropped down to the cliff-top, where I lay and watched. Anon, I saw them slip out on a footpath, without their shields or helmets, and naught of weapons save the knives at their belts. They trudged across the plain, back to the village. I did not follow, for I feared sighting by an early-riser.”

Rod nodded. “Wise. After all, we found out everything we really needed to know.” He frowned. “Maybe more.”

“What then?” Brom demanded.

Toby spread his hands. “Naught. The work was done… and I commenced to feel as weary as though I’d not had a night of sleep.”

“Not surprising, with the psychic blast you pulled yesterday,” Rod reminded him. “And teleporting takes some energy out of a man too, I’ll bet.”

“I think that it doth,” Toby agreed, “though I’d not noticed it aforetime.”

“Well, you’re not as young as you used to be. What are you now, nineteen?”

“Twenty,” Toby answered, irritated.

“That’s right, it’s a huge difference. But that does mean your body’s stopped growing, and you no longer have that frantic, adolescent energy-surplus. Besides, what’s the furthest you’ve ever teleported before?”

“On thine affairs, some ten or twenty miles.”

“Well, this time, you jumped… oh, let’s see now…” Rod stared off into space. “All night in a sailing ship… let’s assume the wind was behind it… say, ten miles an hour. Maybe ten hours, factored by Finagle’s Variable Constant…” He looked back at Toby. “You jumped a hundred miles or more. Twice. No wonder you’re tired.”

Toby answered with a snore.

“Take him up,” Brom instructed the men-at-arms, “and bear him gently to his bed. He hath done great service for our land this morn.”

One of the soldiers bent to gather up Toby’s legs, but the other stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “Nay. Only lift the chair.” The first soldier looked up, nodded approvingly, and picked up the chair legs as his companion lifted the back. Rod instantly memorized the second one’s face, marking him as one who might have potential.

The door closed behind them, and Brom turned on Rod. “What makest thou of this, Lord Warlock?”

“Confusion,” Rod answered promptly. “For openers, I want him to draw a map when he wakes up. Beyond that?” He shrugged. “We do have a tidy little mystery, don’t we?”

“Aye,” Brom agreed. “Why would they come so silently back to their lair?”

“Mayhap ‘twas not all returned from this sally,” Tuan offered, “and they feared the censure of the slain ones’ kin.”