Lawrence Watt-Evans - The Sorcerer's Widow

So it would let him get close, but not too close. It didn’t attack him just because it could, but it didn’t let him walk right up to it, either. That seemed sensible enough. He smiled, turned, and headed directly toward the others.

“What did you do?” Dorna called, as he drew near enough for conversation. “How did you do that? How did you know?”

“I didn’t know ,” Kel replied. “I guessed. I was ready to duck if it pointed at me, but it didn’t.”

“Why not ?” she demanded. “We couldn’t really see from down here-what did you do?”

“Nothing,” Kel said. “It wasn’t attacking me in the first place. All I had to do was get away from you two.”

Dorna considered this for a moment as Kel continued to march toward her through the tall grass, then asked, “Why?”

“Because you’re wearing green,” Kel said proudly. He had figured this out all by himself. “And Ezak is wearing brown.”

Dorna stared at him. “What difference does that make?”

“Well, you said it was left from the Great War, and in the Great War Ethshar’s soldiers wore green and brown, while the Northerners wore black and gray.”

“They did?”

“Yes.”

“ I didn’t know that. How did you know that?”

“From pictures back in Ethshar. In the magistrate’s hall in Smallgate.”

“Well, I’ll be a toad. You really think that’s it?”

Kel nodded vigorously. “What else could it be? We were trying to guess how it could tell Northerners from Ethsharites; well, how did the soldiers in the Great War tell them apart? From the colors of their uniforms. Why shouldn’t this talisman be doing the same thing?”

“Every time I think you two are hopelessly stupid…” Dorna sighed. “All right. But you turned back before you got right up to it, and I thought I heard something-what happened?”

“It pointed at me and said something,” Kel explained. “It sounded like a warning, but I don’t know the language it spoke, so I’m not sure. I thought it didn’t want to let me get too close-probably because I’m not in a Northern uniform.”

“I suppose civilians generally wouldn’t be allowed near it,” Dorna agreed. “So you think if we were wearing black and gray we could walk right up to it?”

Kel turned up an empty palm. “Maybe. I don’t know whether it wants just the right colors, or the actual uniforms.”

“Good point. We probably can’t fake the uniforms-we might have the wrong length tunic, or something.” Kel had almost reached the ridge now, and could see Dorna’s face where she crouched behind it; she looked very thoughtful. Ezak, sitting behind her, looked bored.

Kel ambled up over the rise, then sat down in the grass beside Dorna. Their actions had trampled out an area perhaps a dozen feet across, and Kel found a smooth spot to sit near one side of this cleared patch.

“If I can get close enough, I can blast it,” Dorna said, reaching for her canvas bag. “I brought a couple of weapons. They can’t hit it from here, but if I can get close enough…” She frowned. “How close were you when it warned you off?”

Kel was good at estimating distances; it was a useful skill for a thief to have when climbing around rooftops or up and down walls. “At least fifty feet,” he said. “But less than sixty-five.”

“That should be close enough,” Dorna said, digging through the bag. Things clattered and clanked as she searched, but then she pulled out something black and about the size and shape of a hound’s foreleg.

Kel hesitated. “Do you want me to use that?” he asked. “I’m not good with magic.”

Dorna looked up, startled. “You? Gods and stars, no. I wouldn’t trust you with this thing even if I thought you could learn to use it. I’ll do it.”

“But…you’re wearing green.”

She looked down at herself. “Yes, I know,” she said. “I’ll have to take off my dress.”

“But…” Kel could not complete his protest.

“You don’t need to blush. I’m wearing a shift under it. A white one, which should be safe.”

“Oh,” Kel said, relieved.

Dorna stood up, untied her belt, and began tugging at her skirt. Kel quickly turned away, looking out over the meadow toward the Northern talisman.

A moment later Dorna said, “There!” Kel turned back to see her standing there in her shift.

Never having seen a woman clad only in her undergarments before he had not been sure just what to expect, but even so, he was startled. The shift was a simple sleeveless white garment supported by two straps over Dorna’s shoulders; it exposed far more of her breasts than Kel had expected, and ended just above her knee, reminding Kel of a little girl’s summer tunic and making her look far younger than her years. She had removed her green ribbon and let her hair down, which added to the youthful effect.

The shift was almost transparent; Kel had never seen so revealing a fabric. The cheapest whore in Soldiertown was generally not as exposed as this. Despite what Dorna had said, Kel did blush.

Ezak whistled, and Dorna turned around to slap him, deliberately aiming for his injured ear. He ducked, but the blow still brushed across his head just above his half-healed wound, and Ezak winced.

“Well,” Dorna said, “Let’s see if this works.” She reached down and lifted the canvas bag onto her shoulder, then took the black weapon in hand and stepped forward, up the little ridge.

There was a red flash.

Dorna dropped to the ground; an instant later, so did Kel.

He had been standing with his back to the Northern device, so he had had no warning, and had not ducked until he saw the flash, but then he had flung himself down vigorously enough that a blade of grass had gone up his nose, and he could smell the dirt beneath. He snorted out the grass and pushed himself up enough to free his hands, then quickly patted first his head and then his shoulders to see if he felt blood anywhere. He seemed unhurt.

“Are you all right?” he called, staying low.

Dorna’s response included suggestions that made Kel blush even more than her undressed state had; he was fairly sure at least one was physically impossible. When she had calmed down a little, she shouted, “Apparently it wasn’t the green dress.”

“I guess not,” Kel replied miserably. “Are you hurt?”

“No. My hair’s shorter on one side, though.”

Kel lifted his head further and peered through the grass, but he could not see the others-the contour of the land hid them both. With a glance over his shoulder in the direction of the Northern talisman, he got slowly to his feet, ready to drop again at the first hint of another red flash.

No flash came. He stood, and stared out over the meadow.

The talisman was still there, and the horn-thing was pointed at him-or at Dorna, or Ezak; they were close enough together it could have been any of them.

He turned around to see Dorna struggling to pull her dress back on while staying below the thing’s line of sight. As her head emerged from the collar he could see that the red flash had indeed cut away a hank of hair on the left side.

It had cut the top off Ezak’s right ear. Why would it be different? Why would it strike to one side at all, instead of right down the middle? It shouldn’t just be poor aim; this wasn’t a person, it was magic .

Maybe it wasn’t aiming for her head at all. Maybe, Kel thought, it hadn’t been aiming at Ezak at all. Ezak had been behind Dorna. And it obviously hadn’t been aiming at him -he was standing right here in plain sight, and it wasn’t throwing anything at him.