This, or so those whose expertise in this sort of thing said, was likely to drive the Agents and any help they had hired on insane. There she was, out in the open and untouchable. They all felt that this would make the Agents snatch at the first opportunity that presented itself to make their play.
Mags wasn’t so sure about that. If the Agents really had recruited local criminals for this—certainly. But to his mind, they were much, much too cool to be irritated into acting before they were ready. No, he was pretty certain that, despite all their plans, something would happen where, for a moment, everyone would be caught off guard, and only then would the kidnappers move in.
As he saw it at this point, his job was not so much to keep them from taking Amily himself but to buy time for the rest of her protectors and the ambushers to get to them. It was one thing to tell himself that there was no way they would get to Amily except through him—but the reality was the very best he and Dallen could do, if Ice and Stone were as good as he thought they were, was to delay them until the odds were just too great for them to succeed.
::Are you sensing anything?:: Dallen asked.
::I’m thinkin’ mebbe I put m’foot in’t when I bumped them shields,:: he admitted ruefully. ::I’m thinkin’ now them things knows me, an’ they closed up even tighter nor afore.::
::If you did, there’s nothing we can do that will change that, so you have to watch for the shields themselves,:: Dallen admonished. ::And if you didn’t, then they’ll be leaking away, and you need to watch for the telltale signs of them.::
“Hate it when yer right,” Mags muttered.
“What?” Pip whipped his head around.
“Jest—Dallen.”
“Right.” None of them really had their heads in the game today. Mags wished he’d been able to divulge what was going on, but even if the only ones he’d told were his fellow Grays, that still meant there was a chance that Ice and Stone would get wind of the plan. Only the specific Heralds guarding Amily knew what had been predicted. I’d still feel a hella lot better iffen t’others knew . . .
Even as he was thinking this, he noticed something... odd.
The Trainees on his team stiffened. So did those on the opposing team. Was some sort of message being passed? Then why hadn’t he heard it? And why was every Gray on both teams turning furtively to look at him?
A Mindvoice that was completely new to him “spoke” inside his head. ::Mags. It’s Riker.::
Riker? But he was the Captain of—
::We all just got told by our Companions what’s going on.:: Mags looked up, startled, to meet Riker’s solemn gaze. ::Gennie’s blocking everything at the moment, I think she’s a bit stunned at the mere idea that Amily could be in serious danger. Ask her to come over and talk to me quick, please.::
Mags gave an abrupt nod and turned to see that Gennie was looking at him with a horrified gaze before she got herself under control. “Gennie, Riker wants ye t’ go talk to ’im,” he told her. “Not sure why, ’cept ’e says you an ’im need t’ talk ’bout what’s goin’.”
She nodded brusquely and moved out of the pack, heading for the other side of the Kirball field.
“What’s going on?” asked Jeffers, puzzled. “Gennie—”
“Huddle up,” Pip said sharply. “I’m going to tell you.”
When they had huddled, Pip and Mags together explained the situation as best they could. A shocked silence filled the space where the team huddled together when they were done.
No one objected, though. Everyone remembered what had happened a mere few moons ago. And when Mags said that Ice and Stone were more dangerous, and more skillful, than the man who’d nearly burned down Companion’s Stable with Companions locked into it, the team was inclined to believe him.
“I . . .” Halleck rubbed his helmet absently. “This is insane. How can we play a game when—how can you think to play, Mags—”
Gennie came trotting back over to the huddle. “That’s what we were just talking about. We aren’t going to play a game. We’re going to give a show. Riker and I will call the moves, Mags will tell the rest of you. We’ll end in a tie. Stay sharp. Mags, keep most of your attention on the crowd, keep watching for those men. All we need out of you is the occasional brilliant move that I’ll plan for you, and relaying orders to the non-Gifted. So long as you do a few plays that look like our star Kirball player, no one is going to notice that you’re nothing more than Dallen’s passenger the rest of the time. That suit?”
There were no dissenters.
“Right, then. First play out of the box, scrum a bit, and whoever gets the ball, kick it to the twisted elm and let Riker’s bunch run it up and down the sidelines for a while. When the crowd gets tired of that, we’ll break for a new play. Hup!” She pulled the face-guard down over her helmet; they did the same. Both teams headed for the middle of the field, and the start of a game-that-wasn’t.
::You just stick tight, and I’ll make it look as if you’re actually playing,:: Dallen told him, as the pack scrummed over the ball. ::Concentrate on watching for those devils.::
Mags hunched down over his saddle horn obediently, while Dallen was seemingly everywhere. It probably looked very exciting to their audience, and Dallen was working up quite a sweat. But it was all running and leaping and fancy footwork that didn’t actually accomplish anything, though it wasn’t likely anyone would notice.
Meanwhile, Mags cast his mental net wide, searching for either a hint of those cold, cold thoughts or the shields that guarded the two.
::Mags!:: A cautious call from Gennie got his attention. ::Ball coming, right right back. Give me a brilliant hit down the center toward the goal. Now!::
He swiveled in his saddle, saw the ball coming at him at exactly the right angle for him to give it a boost onward—of couse, the other team also had a Fetcher, which was probably why it was flying so true—stood up in his stirrups and hit the ball with all the pent-up fury over this situation he had dared not otherwise express—
He hit the ball so hard he came close to bursting it. Probably the only reason that it didn’t was that it was already moving and he just boosted the speed. It screamed toward the opposing team’s goal with a force that surprised everyone, including him. Pip just got out of its way instead of giving it a helping whack. The goaltender stiffened, then dove to the side, not even pretending to try to intercept it.
The ball hit the back of the goal, in the deep black shadows of the little stone building. Hit it so hard that the tiny building echoed with a hollow boom—
“Did the ball just explode?” Halleck asked in the sudden silence.
The goaltender peered inside. And signaled for a new ball.
One of the judges rode up to the goal, brought out the flattened remains of the Kirball, and held it over his head.