“Isaam.”
The sorcerer nodded but did not look up.
Bera thought she saw tiny manlike images swirl in the crystal, which looked orange in the light of the fire. She concentrated to make out the images, but they were made indistinct in the shadows cast by Isaam’s head as he bent lower.
“What do you see, old friend? Goblins? Tell me you see goblins.”
Isaam did not reply, though his mouth and fingers moved even faster.
Bera stood silent for several moments, until Zocci came up to her side, strips of venison in a small wooden bowl that he handed her.
“It will take a while for all of the deer to cook, but this is a start.”
“A good start,” she told him, only briefly meeting his eyes. “Thank you.”
He stayed at her side until Isaam finally raised his head. Then Zocci politely retreated, and Bera sat down next the sorcerer. She held the bowl out, but Isaam shook his head.
“Later. The magic covers my hunger.”
“Did you see goblins?” Bera repeated louder. “In your crystal?”
“One,” Isaam said after a moment. “This time I saw one.” He wrinkled his nose in distaste. He’d made it clear on several occasions that he detested the creatures. “It is a bloodied one, and I saw it being carried by one of our brothers. He brings the unfortunate goblin to this camp. I touched his mind and guided him in this direction, as they’d lost their way in these old woods. They come despite the darkness.”
“Which party? Zeff’s?”
He gave a nod. “Zeff carries the goblin, and five men follow him. I sense they are pleased with their grubby prize, Commander. He will be here soon. My mind tugs him.”
Bera’s shoulders sagged. “Perhaps my other scouting party has misplaced itself as well. Can you search for them too?”
“In a while.”
A silence settled between the two, and for several minutes both of them stared at the crystal. Bera could barely make out the tiny form of a man, Zeff, carrying something-the bloodied goblin Isaam mentioned. The fuzzy images surrounding the pair were trees. There was another knight behind the first, and no doubt more. A glow came from over the shoulder of one, likely a torch. Bera wondered if Isaam saw it all in greater detail.
She chewed on the venison, finding it tough but delicious, given her hunger. She ate quickly and handed the bowl back to Zocci when he materialized.
“More, Bera?”
She nodded. “A bowl for Isaam too.”
When Zocci returned, he set Isaam’s bowl on the ground, as the sorcerer did not reach out a hand to take it, nor was he distracted from the crystal in his lap.
“Another walk, Bera?”
“Perhaps,” Bera returned a smile. “After I am finished here.” She stuffed another piece of venison in her mouth and licked her fingers clean of the juices. Zocci retreated only a few steps. “I knew your magic would not fail you, Isaam, old friend. I knew you merely needed to rest your feet and …”
Isaam looked away from the crystal, and his black eyes locked onto Bera’s. In that moment they no longer looked piglike and small, but terribly upset, troubled. The intensity of his gaze was disturbing and sent a shiver down her back.
“My magic failed earlier, Bera, but not because I was tired. It failed because something caused it to fail.” He kept his voice low, and she had to lean close to hear him better. “The goblins you seek obviously have magic too. Old and powerful magic, that much I know. They have magic so powerful that it blocks my attempts to scry upon them.”
“I don’t understand.”
“It is as if I want to look inside a house, but there are no windows and the door is tightly locked. Despite my best efforts, I cannot see inside.”
Bera’s mouth went dry, and she set the bowl of venison in her lap. “How can that be, Isaam? Tell me.”
“I can’t find them, Commander, these escaped slaves that you are so bent on recapturing. Oh, I see the one being brought here, and minutes before that, I spotted another one drinking by a stream lit by a reflected moon. But I can’t find the goblins in any number. I can’t find the ones from Steel Town. They are scored by scars from the mines and they wear the marks of whips. Easy to find, you would think, with my magic, especially given their numbers. But it is impossible, for some reason.”
“Grallik N’sera, the wizard who-”
“He is hidden too by the old magic.” Isaam drew his shoulders back and picked up the crystal, carefully placing it in a pocket of his robe. “I can feel the magic that blocks me, Bera, and I do not like the sensation, insects crawling on my skin. It is a smothering magic. It is not unlike a large cloak that obscures the details of its wearer.”
Bera nodded, as though understanding, but she did not quite, not really.
“It hides something, this very old magic. It hides the goblins. There is no other explanation for why I cannot find them.”
“Maybe Grallik is responsible.”
Isaam spit. “Grallik is a wizard of some renown but not enough to have given him a better station than Steel Town. Perhaps, however, he is more powerful than your reports indicate, and his posting was a punishment for something not in the records. He is more powerful than me, apparently.”
“I doubt that, old friend.”
Isaam dropped his chin to his chest. “Perhaps he did something to block my magic.”
One of the men started singing. Usually it was Zocci who did that first after an evening meal. But it was one of the older men; his voice was not as strong and deep, but the story of the song was good, about the Dark Knights’ victory in the Abyss.
“No, on second thought, no.” Bera shook her head, nearly upsetting the bowl of venison. “Grallik is not responsible for stopping you. If he had such magic, he would have used it when he first fled from Steel Town. We tracked him then, old friend. We found the port where he purchased ships to haul the goblins. Nothing blocked us then. We easily followed him to Schallsea Island too, as you know. And then we-”
“-lost him in these ancient woods,” Isaam finished. “Lost him and all of the Steel Town slaves.”
“Except the one Zeff has captured.” Bera’s hands formed fists, the nails digging into her palms. “Perhaps the goblin being brought here will have some answers for us at last.”
“One goblin?” Isaam chuckled.
“Then find a way around this magic, old friend. Lift the cloak, and put a window in this building you’re trying to look inside.” She picked up her bowl and rose, her eyes daggers aimed at something far beyond their campsite and her sorcerer companion. “Find them, Isaam. That’s an order.”
UMAY AND QEL
The dwarf baby cooed happily. She lay on her back on a patch of soft moss, Graytoes dribbling river water from a jug onto her stomach and taking a long time bathing her. The goblin shooed away small, bright beetles that crawled close as she softly sang an old war tune about a blood-soaked battlefield. She paused in midchorus and told Umay it was one of the few to which she could remember all the words and that it had been one of Moon-eye’s favorites. She started singing again.
“Grallik N’sera-” Her visitor coughed to get her attention and said, “Grallik N’sera,” again.
Graytoes stopped the song. “The hated wizard.” She spit the words out in the goblin language. “Grallik is with Thya, cutting down trees with his magic and-”
“I know where Grallik N’sera is. I just came from talking with him.” Qel knelt, looking between the dwarf baby and Graytoes. She spoke in the goblin tongue, which surprised Graytoes. But she got some of the inflections wrong, and Graytoes had to work at understanding her. “Grallik told me you stole this baby from a village in the Nerakan hills. Had I paid more attention earlier to what you carried, before we came to these woods, had I asked why you had such a child, I would have-”