“Even better!” That was something that had worried them both, that they’d give their plan away the instant Kel made his capture, and they’d be in trouble with their own side before they got a chance to see their plan through.
“In fact,” he added, with growing excitement, “it looks like Kel is going to be able to bring him down practically at our feet!”
Try as she might, there was nothing to really see in these dark woods except variations in the degree of darkness. She already knew that she could peer out there until she got a headache, and still see nothing. As time crawled as slowly as the ant making its way up her leg, Keisha swatted at insects and tried to be as quiet as possible while doing so, straining her ears for any sound that might signal the approach of this stranger. But when such a sign came, it wasn’t a sound but, much to her astonishment, a sight.
Out beneath the trees, out on the edge of vision, she saw light. Something out there moved lithely from bit of cover to bit of cover; something very large, and very pale, shimmering with a ghostly iridescence so faint that for a while she was half certain that the effect was nothing more than her own imagination or eyestrain. The only reason she noticed it in the first place was its movement. It certainly wasn’t human, nor was it a dog, or any other beast Keisha recognized. She didn’t get a good look at it; either it was adept at hiding itself, or it changed shape from moment to moment.
Was this what their quarry was stalking? If so, they owed it a debt. . . .
Just when it seemed that the creature was getting near enough that she’d be able to identify it, it faded into a wall of shadow, and vanished completely, while the hair on the back of her neck stood up in atavistic alarm.
But it had been visible long enough for the young barbarian following to get exactly where Kelvren wanted him.
From somewhere up above came a blood-curdling screech; the slight shadow making his way carefully through the undergrowth in the wake of the ghostly light froze, still balanced on one foot. Then he made a break for it, but it was too late.
Everyone had told Keisha that seeing Kelvren make an attack was one of the most thrilling spectacles imaginable. It was too bad that it was far too dark for her to see anything except a pair of shadow-wings for a fraction of a second, followed by a tremendous crash in the undergrowth.
“I have him!” Kel crowed happily, over the sound of hysterical screams. “Now come and tie him up!”
Darian conjured a mage-light in one hand, and stared into the sullen eyes of their captive. He looked to be just around Darian’s own age, perhaps a little younger. He was angry, frightened, and Darian would not have given a copper bit for their lives if he got a weapon in his hands.
Physically, he was a little shorter than Darian, with weathered, scratched skin that would be pale beneath his tan, and a shock of unwashed, tangled black hair. His eyes were as black as his hair, and his teeth, clenched in a grimace, had the canines filed to points. They’d tied his hands behind him, and his feet together, and sat him up against a tree trunk while they moved on to the next part of the plan.
He wasn’t going to cooperate in any way whatsoever, not that Darian cared. He doesn’t have to be cooperative in order for Tyrsell to get his language. Darian looked up at Tyrsell, who had watched the entire proceedings with intense interest. “Are you ready?”
:I am. I rather doubt that he is, however.: The dyheli snorted.:And you, Healer, are you ready?:
“As much as I can be.” Poor Keisha looked horribly nervous; this must have been so foreign to her, even though she had already undergone the process once.
“I know it’s no help to say this, but if you can relax, this should be relatively easy for you,” he told her with as comforting a smile as he could manage. “The first time is always the hardest; you’re used to it now, and you’ve had lots of practice in Mind-Gifts. It’s generally the fact that you’re resisting something so entirely new that you instinctively fear it that gives you the worst headache.”
She blinked at him as if that hadn’t occurred to her. “Oh,” was all she said, but as the hostile eyes of their prisoner went from him to her and back again, she visibly relaxed.
:Well done,: Tyrsell said with approval, and then they were both lying flat on their backs, staring up at branches and leaves reflecting the mage-light, as Kel and Tyrsell watched them with interest. Darian didn’t have more than a touch of headache this time; he hoped Keisha had fared as well.
Her first words seemed to indicate that she had. “Forty-one words for snow?” Keisha exclaimed in disbelief. “Why would anyone need all those words for different kinds of snow? Snow is snow!”
“All I care about is the words for ‘what the hell do you people think you’re doing here?’ “ Darian replied as he sat up, pleased to discover that he still had no more than a vague ache behind his forehead to show for this latest language acquisition.
The young man had not fared so well; he was still out cold.
:I took the liberty of giving him Tayledras, but not Valdemaran,: Tyrsell informed them loftily. :That way he will understand some of the negotiators and can act as a translator, but you will still have a language he does not know so that you can speak freely before him. Besides, it was a useful way to keep him from getting into mischief until you awoke.: The king-stag wrinkled his nostrils with his head high, testing the air. :If you have no further need of me, I will be off.:
“No further need, but we couldn’t be doing this without you. Thank you, Tyrsell,” Darian replied with feeling. :You are most welcome. I hope that your plan succeeds.: Tyrsell slipped away into the darkness, leaving them alone with the young barbarian who was just waking.
“What did you do to me?” he demanded angrily, his face contorting with the pain of his headache. “Is this some demon-born torture you’ve worked on me?”
“No,” Keisha said, “it only feels like one.” As the young man’s eyes widened to hear her speak his own language, she continued. “Our magics enable us to take what we wish from your mind, and it seemed useful to have command of your tongue. So, as you can see, there is nothing that you can keep secret from us, but taking your knowledge exacts a toll in pain from you and we would spare you that; you can suffer more of this, or you can answer our questions. The choice is yours.”
“Personally, I’d answer her,” Darian added sternly. “Or you’re likely to wish someone would kill you to be rid of the pain in your head. The more we take, the worse it will get.”
His face paled, and he appeared to wilt - and without that sullen, defiant expression, he looked several years younger than Darian.
“What do you want to know?” he asked, defeat written large in his expression.
“Your name, first,” Keisha said. “Hywel, son of Pedren, son of Hothgar the Ugly, son of - ” he began, obviously quite prepared to recite a lineage back to the beginning of his tribe.