Spread out below them were a patchwork of fields and gardens, diligently tended throughout the growing season. Barley covered the most ground, and the green stalks were browning as much from lack of rain as from the coming harvest. Here and there swatches of dark green stood out among the brown lakes of grain. Garden plots were watered daily. Tender vegetables needed more sustenance than hardy grain.
Sir Howland noticed none of this. All he could see was the rude horseshoe of houses in the midst of a flat plain. Tiny figures moved around the gray dot Malek indicated was the village’s sole well.
How could anyone defend such a defenseless spot? Was it even possible?
The Knight palmed the sweat from the stubble growing out of his scalp. Hot and tired though he was, he felt good and strong. The journey on foot had purged the toxins from his body, cleansing him of much bad wine and self-pity. The farmers’ cause had paid him more that a full belly-it had revived Howland’s honor. For him, duty was an appetite no less sharp than hunger or thirst. Now, though, when he first beheld the ground he was asked to defend, his spirits sank into his dusty boots.
On the rearward slope, the rest of the hired swords lolled, watching kites and crows wheeling through the cloudless sky. Nils, Wilf, and Caeta chafed at the delay. They were near enough home to smell the barley growing, but Howland had insisted on this stop. He would not rush his troops into an unknown situation, he said firmly.
Ezu amused Khorr and Carver with tales of distant lands. When the story called for it, he pulled out some artifact from his satchel. Most were inconsequential-a string of beads, a thick disk of glass, a cup with a needle floating inside-but backed by Ezu’s strange charm they became wondrous relics.
“And this,” he said, brandishing the glass disk, “was made by the glassmasters of Oe. A fantastic place, Oe. Every house, grand or mean, is made of glass.”
“Let me see!” said Carver. Ezu placed the disk on his small palm. It didn’t seem so special as he examined it. It was just a round lump of clear glass, not even a pretty color.
“Hold it by the edge and look through it,” said Ezu.
The kender did, and exclaimed, “Khorr! Your eyes are huge!”
The minotaur felt along his massive brow. “They’re no bigger than usual.”
Carver lowered the glass. “Heh! So they are.” He peered through Ezu’s toy again, and once more Khorr’s face swelled to monstrous proportions.
The kender laughed.
Khorr said, “Let me see.” He looked through the glass, first at Carver, then Ezu. “It makes things look bigger,” the minotaur said.
“Right-right!” Ezu replied. “That is what it does. In Oe, they call this a ‘lens.’ ”
Carver snatched the disk from Khorr’s thick fingers. He looked at everything through the glass-grass, pebbles, Ezu, and a frowning Raika, sitting ten feet away with her sword bare, guarding the quiescent bounty hunter.
“Ho, she’s even bigger,” he said. A new target occurred to him. “My foot!” He bent down, resting his chin on one knee, and gazed at his bare brown toes through Ezu’s lens.
The sun was behind him. Rays gathered by the glass came to a point in the center of Carver’s big toenail.
“Yow!”
The kender leaped into the air, arms and legs flailing. Ezu’s disk went flying, but the smiling traveler caught it with surprising deftness before it was lost in the grass.
“I’m burned!” Carver yelled, clutching his foot.
“What’s all the row?” muttered Howland, glancing down the hill. “The kender. Should’ve known.”
“Well, can it be done?” asked Malek urgently.
“On my word as a Knight, I don’t think so. No.” Howland swept a hand across the distant vista. “The terrain has no more relief than a plate. There’s nothing here to impede horsemen. Even if we could ambush part of Rakell’s force, there’s aren’t enough of us to stop him from overrunning the village.”
Malek’s eyes burned. “It is hopeless then!”
Howland put a hand on the young farmer’s shoulder. “Nothing’s hopeless, lad. What’s needed is another way. I came here thinking like a Knight, ready to defend a regular town. That’s not what we have. Your village is more like …” He groped for a metaphor. “Like an island in a sea of grass. Islands can be defended.”
“Perhaps Raika will have some ideas. She’s a sailor.”
“Hmmm. She might, if we can get her to forget about Robien for a moment.”
Since capturing the ranger, Raika had not left Robien’s side. She was plainly proud to have taken so famed a bounty hunter, and she treated him as her personal prize. Robien, for his part, seemed strangely content to be a prisoner. When the situation in Nowhere was explained to him, he neither agreed nor refused to join the defenders. He merely watched and listened to all that went on around him, as Raika watched him in turn.
Hume climbed Caper Mountain and took his place at Howland’s side. As the only other trained soldier in the band, he’d become Howland’s lieutenant.
“There’s our castle,” Howland said ironically. “What do you think?”
“It has walls of air.” Hume shaded his eyes with one hand. “How far is it to Rakell’s camp?”
Malek looked stricken. “No one knows.”
Howland nodded vigorously. “We must find out where it is. It’s always better to carry the fight to the enemy’s stronghold. Good thinking, Hume.”
They descended the hill and roused their comrades. Carver limped into line alongside Khorr, eyes shooting darts at the bland Ezu.
“We’re going to the village,” Howland said. “It’s vital at this point that the enemy not know we’re here. For this reason I’m dividing us into four groups, each to be lead in by one of the farmers. Hume and I will follow you, Malek. Caeta leads Khorr and Carver. Nils, you take Raika and the traveler-”
“I’ll not go without him,” Raika replied, nodding at Robien.
Howland sighed. “Very well. Raika and Robien will go with Nils. That leaves Wilf to guide Ezu and Amergin. Remember, quiet and calm are vital. No unnecessary displays or tomfoolery.” He stared meaningfully at Carver. “We’ll meet at Malek’s house.”
Howland, Hume, and Malek departed. By the time they disappeared into the head-high grass at the foot of Caper Mountain, Nils started out with his strange pair, Raika with sword bared and Robien with his hands tied behind his back.
Wilf led his two down the north side of the hill, intending to swing wide around the fields and enter Nowhere from the north. That left Caeta with Khorr and Carver alone on the hill.
“So,” said the kender, rubbing his hands. “Where’s the gold mine around here?”
“There is no gold mine.”
“Beg your pardon. I meant silver mine.”
“No silver, either.”
“Jewels?”
Caeta shouldered the threadbare sack she carried her traveling gear in. “You’ve been told, kender, time and time again. There’s no treasure! We brought back fighters to free us from Rakell’s raiders. That’s all!”
She stalked down the slope. Khorr gave Carver a mildly reproachful look and followed her.
“Yeah, right!” Carver muttered. “No treasure? Ha! You just don’t want to share it fair and square!” He stamped his foot, wincing from the burn he gave himself with Ezu’s lens. “Think I’ll give up and go home? Not me! Not Carver Reedwhistle, master of adventure!” Realizing no one was listening, he hurried after Caeta and the minotaur. “Wait for me!” he shouted. When they didn’t, he repeated his call louder and louder each time.
Not half an hour had passed since Howland had demanded stealth from his followers. Already the warriors’ quiet entry into Nowhere had been shattered by the irrepressible kender.
Wind raised eddies of dust around the silent huts. Malek stopped at the well to offer Howland and Hume fresh water. The old bucket, broken the day Rakell kidnapped Laila, Larem, and the others, had been replaced by a flimsy container made of woven grass. It leaked copiously as Howland raised it to his lips.