He banked, and Balkis’ claws dug into the carpet again. Matt smiled down at her, about to say something reassuring, then saw the look on the feline face and changed to sympathy. “What’s the matter?”
“That name, Samarkand!” Balkis hissed. “I have heard it before, I am sure of it.”
Matt gazed at her while implications riffled through his mind. When he had sorted them out a little, he said, “Maybe the caravan that brought you to Russia took a longer route than we thought.”
Or perhaps, he thought to himself, baby Balkis had heard people talking about more things than feeding times and colic.
Jimena and Ramon strolled along the castle walls, pausing to chat briefly with each sentry. When they completed their round, they stopped to gaze out over the city below, a patchwork of roofs of tile, slate, and thatch slanting down to the river that ran under the town wall, between half a mile of docks and water stairs, and out under the wall again. Beyond, fields of green and gold formed a crazy quilt to a line of distant hills-circling Bordestang’s valley.
“It is so lovely here,” Ramon said, “clean and unspoiled, and with so much room!”
“So much better than New Jersey,” Mama agreed. “We had good neighbors there, Ramon, but there are good people here, too.”
“And it is nice to be a lord and lady,” Ramon said, giving his wife a grin. “Yes, it is a good life to which our son has brought us.”
“It is indeed.” Mama rested her head against his shoulder, then stiffened. “What comes?”
Ramon frowned, following her gaze, and saw a smudge on the bright green of the distant hills. “What indeed?”
“Oh, for a telescope!” Jimena said, and caught his hand. “Quickly, husband! To our laboratory, and the bowl of ink! If we do not have the instruments of our home universe, we shall have to manage with the magic of this!”
The pool of ink stayed obstinately dark. Saul looked up and shook his head in frustration. “Nothing, Lady Mantrell. Absolutely nothing. If he’s anywhere near a pool or puddle, he’s blithely ignoring me and not looking down. And he’s certainly not pouring his own bowlful and trying to contact me.”
“So you cannot communicate with him, no.” Jimena bit her lip. “And my own scrying shows no trace of him. In what magical sinkhole is he, that our spells cannot find him?”
“Probably his own,” Saul opined. “He’s traveling in some pretty dangerous territory, out east where the horde is. He very easily may have cast a spell to shield him from magical spying.”
“Well, I cannot complain,” Jimena sighed. “When he was small, I always told him to be careful in his travels—to cross at the lights, and not speak to strangers.”
“I don’t think he has too much choice about the strangers now,” Saul said, “and I’ll bet he’d love to see a traffic light.”
Footsteps drummed in the hallway and a fist thudded on the door. “Lady Mantrell! Witch Doctor! Lord Mantrell calls! The dukes attack!”
Jimena was on her feet and halfway to the door, calling, “Ramon has the north wall. You take the east and half the south, and I’ll take the west and the other half!”
“Sure, if you get there first!” Saul was out the door right behind her, and matched her step for step up the stairs to the battlements.
There, they each found their soldiers busy pushing over scaling ladders and squaring off against the few enemies who had managed to get onto the battlements before the ladders fell. Saul carne out onto the eastern wall and saw a siege tower rolling toward him. “Captain of the guard!” he called.
The captain, a knight of advanced years who was beginning to move stiffly with age, turned at his call, frowning.
Saul hurried over to him. “Sir Chaliko! Good, it ‘s you! What’s the story on that malvoisin?”
“Story?” The old knight frowned. “We have a ready enough cure for it, Witch Doctor.”
“Fire arrows?” Saul asked.
The old knight nodded. “We only await its corning into range.” A sergeant called, “The crossbows can reach it now, Sir Knight!”
“Then loose!” Sir Chaliko called.
The sergeant relayed the order, and flaming bolts whizzed through the air to bite deeply into the sides of the boarding tower—and died in puffs of steam.
Sir Chaliko stared. “What witchcraft is this?”
“Water.” Saul squinted. “See how the sides sparkle? There’s a continuous waterfall on every side!”
“How can that engine carry so much water?” the old knight asked, completely at a loss.
Saul squinted again, trying to see the top of the machine—then froze, staring. “Whatever sort of idiot is that duke using for a magician? The fool has called up an undine just to damp down his siege engine!”
“Amazing!” Sir Chaliko smiled in sheer admiration. “How else could they guard it against fire?”
“I can think of half a dozen ways, and this sure wouldn’t be one of them! That amateur can’t possibly know what an undine can do if it gets out of control!”
“What?” Sir Chaliko demanded, beginning to catch some of Saul’s alarm.
“Drown half the city!” Saul told him. “And in a battle, there’s almost no chance that it won’t break out of the magician’s power!”
“I shall send a sally party out to chop through the tower!” Sir Chaliko turned away.
“No!” Saul reached out and caught his shoulder. “That’ll just put the elemental on the ground, where it can really start pouring out the gallons! Worse, its master is almost sure to lose control of it in the fall!”
“Then how shall we guard against the malvoisin?” the old knight asked.
“I’ll think of a way,” Saul said. “Just give me a minute.”
Sir Chaliko turned to gauge the distance between tower and wall—and its speed. “A minute, Witch Doctor. I do not think we shall have much more than that.”
The malvoisin rolled closer and closer to them.
“The top, at least!” Sir Chaliko snapped. “We can shoot at the monster itself! Ho, archers! Drop your shafts into the roof of that bad neighbor!”
A flight of fire-arrows arched high and landed on the roof of the tower. A score of puffs of steam rose with a muffled roar.
“We’re just making it angry,” Saul snapped. “Tell them to hold their fire, Sir Chaliko!”
“Then do something, Witch Doctor!”
Saul chanted,
Sir Chaliko stared. “Witch Doctor, you chant the oddest spells!”
“Arcane language,” Saul said offhandedly. “Seven to the seventh power means seven multiplied by itself seven times.”
“Seven times seven times seven times seven times seven times seven times seven times seven?” Sir Chaliko asked. “Yeah, and if that’s not enough, I ended up with a clause to repeat the whole process.” Saul watched the tower anxiously. “Let’s hope that’s—”
With a roar, flames leaped up atop the tower. Something else roared back, and the flames died-almost. Suddenly, they flared high again. Water rose in a wave against the flames, then cascaded down the sides of the tower. The flame lowered, then rose again. The undine bellowed, and the tower turned into a torrent.
“It is in pain!” Sir Chaliko cried. “Agony!”
“I don’t think so,” Saul said slowly. “I don’t think water can feel pain. But it sure is angry.”
The flames rose and fell, rose and fell, as the water tumbled forth in an unending cataract. The tower still rolled forward, then lurched and stopped, tilting at an angle.