Wingover, who was standing by Kitiara's feet, said, "No bones are broken."
"How do you know?" asked Cutwood.
"I can see them," he replied. "There don't even seem to be any cracks. It's probably a sprain."
"You can see through flesh nowt" Sturm asked incredu lously. Put so bluntly, Wingover suddenly realized what he was doing.
"By Reorx!" he said. "This is terrific! I wonder what else I can see through?" The gnomes crowded around him, Kitiara forgotten. They took turns having Wingover peer through their bodies and describing what he saw. Cries of "Hydro dynamics!" filled the air.
Kitiara tried to sit up, but the pain took her breath away.
"Keep still," Sturm cautioned. "I'll have to find something to bind up your shoulder."
He rummaged through his belongings and found his only change of shirt – a white linen blouse made by the best tailor in Solace. Regretfully, he tore it into inch-wide strips and tied their ends into one long bandage.
"You'll have to get your arm out of the sleeve," he said.
"Cut the seams," said Kitiara.
Sturm checked. "The seams are underneath. You'll still have to slip it off."
"All right. Help me up."
As easily as he could, Sturm helped Kitiara to sit up. Her face went pale, and as he tried to loosen the sleeve from her right arm, tears of pain trickled down her face.
"You know, I've never seen you cry before," he said in a low voice.
"Ah! Ah! – what's the matter, didn't you think I could?"
Sturm kept his mouth shut and turned her fur coat. The leather he could cut away, but underneath she still wore her mail shirt. "I'll have to bind you over the mail," he said.
"Yes, yes," she said. Pain made her impatient.
He sat down facing her and carefully lifted her right arm until she could rest it on his shoulder. Sturm wound the lin en bandage over Kitiara's shoulder and under her arm.
"Tight enough?"
Gasp. "Yes."
"I'll leave enough cloth to make a sling," he said sympa thetically.
'Whatever." She lowered her head into her left hand. Her face was flushed.
I thought she'd be stronger than this, Sturm thought, as he wrapped. Surely she's been wounded in battle worse than this! Aloud, he said, "With all your combat experience, you must be an old hand at field dressings. Am I doing this right?"
"I've never been wounded," Kitiara murmured through her hand. "A few cuts and scrapes, that's all."
"You've been lucky." Sturm was amazed.
"I don't let enemies get close enough to hurt me."
Sturm helped her stand. He draped the empty sleeve over
Kitiara's shoulder. The gnomes were energetically debating the nature of Wingover's expanding talent.
~ "Obviously, he is seeing a subtle variety of light that nor mal eyes cannot detect," said Cutwood.
"Obvious to any fool," Sighter countered. "The method is this: Wingover is now emitting rays from his eyes that pierce flesh and clothing. The source of his sight must be his own eyes."
"Ahem." interrupted Sturm, "Could you manage this argument while walking? We have a long way to go and a short night to do it in."
"How is the lady?" asked Roperig. "Can she walk?"
"I can run. How about youl" said Kitiara challengingly.
There wasn't much left to salvage from the smashed remains of the sleds. Sturm realized that for the first time the gnomes were going to have to travel light; they had no means left by which to carry their heavy, useless gear. They dithered over what to take and what to abandon. The gnomes were about to adopt Roperig's suggestion that they assign numerical values to each item and then choose a total value of items not to exceed two hundred points per gnome.
"I'm going," Kitiara said shortly. She tried to sling her and
Sturm's bedrolls on her good shoulder. Sturm caught the straps and took both rolls away from her. "I lost the bet," she admitted.
"Don't be a fool," he said. "I'll carry them."
They walked about half a mile and stopped to let the gnomes catch up. How they rattled and jingled! Each gnome had a workshop's worth of tools dangling from his vest and belt.
"I hope we don't have to sneak up on anybody," muttered
Kitiara. The weary but steadfast party formed again and set out for the great obelisk and the Voice that inhabited it.
Ten miles had passed beneath their feet when Cutwood started complaining of a pounding in his head. His col leagues made jokes at his expense until Sturm shushed them.
Rainspot gave Cutwood a cursory examination.
"I see nothing out of the ordinary," he said.
"You needn't shout," Cutwood said, wincing.
Rainspot raised his wispy white eyebrows in surprise.
"Who's shouting?" he asked mildly.
Sighter dropped back behind Cutwood, and when he was out of his sight, snapped his fingers. Cutwood ducked his head and put his hands up to ward off some unseen blow.
"Did you hear that crack of lightning?" he said, his voice wavering.
"Most interesting. Cutwood's hearing has intensified, just as Wingover's vision has," said Sighter.
"Does this mean we're getting more of the power?" won dered Rainspot.
"It would seem so," Sighter said gravely.
"Stop screaming!" begged Cutwood in a whisper.
Roperig quickly made a crude pair of earmuffs for Cut wood out of strips of rattan from his water bottle and a wad of old socks. Ears muffled, Cutwood smiled.
"The pounding is much less now, thank you!"
"Don't mention it," Roperig said in a slightly lower than normal voice. Cutwood beamed and clapped his colleague on the back.
"Do you feel any different?" Sturm asked Kitiara.
"My shoulder still hurts."
"You don't feel any new access of strength?"
She shook her head. "All I feel is a crying need for a mug of Otik's best ale."
Sturm had to smile. It seemed eons since they'd all sat at the inn and enjoyed Otik's brew. It felt as if it would be eons before they could do so again.
At the twelve-mile mark, the gnomes were trailing out in a long line behind Kitiara and Sturm. Their short legs sim ply couldn't maintain the humans' rapid pace. Reluctantly,
Sturm called for a break. The gnomes dropped where they stood, as though felled by a shower of arrows.
The air stirred. Glimmers of roseate light showed in the east – the direction they'd decided was east. "Sunrise," Kiti ara said flatly.
Westward, toward the center of the valley, an answering flicker of light greeted the sunrise. Sighter tried to get his spyglass trained on the source of this second dawn.
Wingover moved over to him.
"It's the obelisk," he said. He squinted into the far dis tance. "I can see a glow surrounding the peak."
Brilliant white streaks – more shooting stars – sprayed across the heavens. A bright, steady glow in the east was soon mimicked in the west. The sun was coming up over the cliffs, yellow and warm; the glow from the obelisk was a stubborn and muddy scarlet.
The rim of the sun broke over the cliffs. There was a clap of thunder, and bolts of red fire snapped from the far-off obelisk toward the surrounding chain of hills. The explorers put their faces to the ground, and all felt a blast of burning as the red beams crackled overhead. Five times the scarlet lightning lashed out, and the resulting thunder pounded the sky with ringing blows. When the sun was fully above the valley walls, the strange storm ceased.
Sturm sat up. The ground around them steamed lightly.
Kitiara struggled to her feet and surveyed the valley by day light. Plants were beginning to emerge from the flaky soil.
Wingover dusted himself off and looked back at the cliff they had sledded down.
"Now I understand how the sides got to be as hard and smooth as glass," he said. "The lightning must hit them ev ery morning."
The gentlest gnome said shakily, "Those were not pluvial discharges." He tried to stand and failed. "The atmosphere is charged with another power."
"Magic." Sturm felt his face harden with distaste as he practically spat the word. Though hardly unexpected, the sudden onset of such enormous magical power left him feel ing vulnerable, exposed – and tainted.
Chapter 19
Cupelix
The vegetation in the valley was much the same as elsewhere on Lunitari, but it grew less thickly and to greater size. The pink spears topped twelve feet in an hour's growth, and the toadstools towered twenty and thirty feet.
One new species the explorers found was a five-foot-wide puffball. After seeing one such puffball explode, sending a shower of javelin-sharp spikes in all directions, the marchers gave them a very wide berth.