“Oh,” Kel said.
“The Northerners used sorcery more than Ethshar did in the Great War. A lot of old sorcery is Northern.”
“But…” Kel frowned and stared more intently through the grass. “But the Northerners were evil, weren’t they?”
“I guess so.”
“Then is it safe, using their sorcery? Isn’t it evil?”
“It isn’t good or evil, it’s magic. It’s a tool. It can be used for good or evil.”
“The demonologists say that, too,” Kel said, remembering some of the testimony the magistrate had heard at his trial. “But most people think demonology is evil.”
“That’s different. Demons are alive-well, I think they are, anyway. Sorcery isn’t.”
“That feel-drapes-hiss looked alive to me,” Kel said.
“It isn’t. It’s just a spell in solid form.”
“Oh.”
“Demonology was originally Northern magic, too,” Dorna added. “Even more than sorcery. Both sides used sorcery, but only the Northern Empire used demons during the war.”
“But we have demonologists now,” Kel said.
He could almost hear Dorna turn up an empty hand. “The demons probably can’t tell our demonologists aren’t Northerners. Or they don’t care.”
Something that had been bothering Kel suddenly fell into place. “So that thing that cut off Ezak’s ear is a Northern weapon from the Great War, right?”
“I assume so, yes. This area was Northern territory sometimes during the war.”
“So it’s supposed to kill any Ethsharites it sees?”
“Apparently.”
“So how can it tell?”
“What?”
“How can it tell we’re Ethsharites?”
Dorna took several seconds to answer slowly, “I don’t know.”
“If we could convince it we’re Northerners, it would probably let us walk right up and smash it, wouldn’t it?”
“It might,” Dorna admitted. “It must have… I mean, the Northerners who put it there must have had some way to get past it.”
“So all we have to do is convince it we’re Northerners!”
“You’re right,” Dorna said. “That…that should work!”
Kel felt himself puffing up with pride.
“But,” Dorna said, “how do we do that?”
Kel’s ego abruptly deflated again. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “But there must be some way!”
“Well, if you think of one, tell me,” Dorna said.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Kel was still lying in the tall grass on the northeast side of the little ridge when Ezak finally woke up. Kel had been trying to think of some way to make the Northern sorcery think they were Northerners, but had not yet with come up with anything more sophisticated than circling around so that they came at it from the north, instead of the southwest. Somehow he doubted that would be enough, and Dorna had agreed that it wasn’t likely to work.
“It might be worth a try if we get desperate enough, though,” she had said.
So he had lain there, trying to think of something else, and hoping that Ezak, who was, after all, the clever one, would have a suggestion. When Dorna finally called, “He’s awake!” Kel turned and almost sat up before he remembered where he was, and what might happen if he stuck his head above the grass. Instead he began crawling back over the rise to where the others were.
Dorna was sitting cross-legged on the grass, her head bent down, while Ezak lay flat on his back beside her, blinking up at the clouds drifting lazily overhead. She had wiped off the worst of the blood, and her healing sorcery had done its job-while his ear was still missing a piece, and his hair was cut short or gone entirely on that side of his head, the wounds were closed and partially healed, looking as if the injuries had been sustained a sixnight before, rather than merely an hour or so earlier.
“How are you feeling?” Dorna asked him.
“My ear hurts,” Ezak replied.
“That’s hardly surprising,” Dorna answered. “Anything else?”
“My head hurts.” He reached up a hand to touch his wound, and winced.
“Again, not a surprise. Do you remember what happened?”
“Something…hit me?” He gingerly fingered his shortened ear, feeling its new shape.
“Northern sorcery,” Dorna told him.
“There was a red light?”
“That’s right.”
He blinked. “It cut the top off my ear, and cut a groove into the side of my head.”
“Yes.”
“How long have I been lying here? It feels…” He stroked the side of his head. “Well, it doesn’t feel fresh.”
“I did some healing.”
“Oh, that’s right. I remember that. Did you put me to sleep?”
“You fainted.”
Ezak winced again, then repeated, “How long have I been lying here?”
“About an hour,” Kel volunteered, startling both Dorna and Ezak.
Ezak pushed himself up on his elbows and looked at his companion. “And you two have just been sitting here, waiting for me to wake up?”
“Yes,” Kel said, as Dorna said, “No.”
Dorna glared at Kel, then said, “We’ve been doing some planning.”
“But we haven’t come up with much,” Kel added, drawing a fresh glare from Dorna.
Ezak looked from Dorna to Kel, then back. He rolled over and sat up. “What was it that cut me?”
“Northern sorcery,” Dorna said. “We don’t know exactly what kind. In fact, you might be able to help with that.”
“Oh? How?”
“Kel and I both ducked before that red flash, so we didn’t see what it was. You were looking almost directly at it. What did you see?”
“A red flash,” Ezak said, as if addressing an idiot. Kel winced.
“I know that,” Dorna replied. “But what kind of a flash? Was it a flash of light, or a burst of flame? Was it in a beam, or all over? Why did it take off your hair and trim your ear, but not cut off your entire head? Was it a fireball, or lightning, or something else?”
“Oh,” Ezak said. His expression turned thoughtful. “I’m not sure,” he admitted.
“Was he burned? When you healed him?” Kel asked.
“No,” Dorna said.
“Then it probably wasn’t a fireball, or lightning.”
Dorna turned to look at him. “I thought Ezak was supposed to be the clever one.”
“He is,” Kel said, confused.
“It was a clean cut,” Dorna said. “As if something very sharp had sliced through.”
“Like…like a magical knife?” Ezak asked.
“Yes.” She frowned. “So we have some idea what we’re dealing with. Did you see a knife, Ezak?”
He shook his head. “Just a red light.”
“Did you feel anything?”
“Of course I did!” Ezak said. “I felt pain!”
“Yes, but what kind of pain? Did it feel like a knife was cutting you?”
“I…” Ezak stopped to think, then said, “I didn’t feel anything happen-one second I was fine, and the next I was bleeding all over and my ear and head hurt like death.”
“So it’s very, very fast, whatever it is. It probably didn’t just throw an ordinary knife. More likely it was raw magic.”
Ezak asked the question Kel was thinking-“So what? What difference does it make?”
“So I’m trying to think whether it might run out of ammunition, or whether we might be able to make shields or armor that would protect us while we get close to it.”
“Oh,” Ezak said, and Kel had to admit she had a good reason for her questions.
“Kel and I were thinking it must be Northern military sorcery, so if we can convince it we’re Northerners it won’t hurt us, but we don’t know how to do that, so I was thinking about shields, or making it use up whatever it’s throwing at us. Except if it’s throwing pure gaja at us, it can’t run out, ever-the World is full of gaja.”
“It is?” Ezak asked, startled.
“Yes. It is. Or sorcery would have stopped working a long time ago, when the gaja was used up.”