The fil drepessis paused, screamed as it had back in the wagon, then came after him, still screaming, moving in that bizarre multi-legged trot it had used when it first left the stableyard.
“Wait!” Dorna shouted, as she followed them.
Kel did not wait; he dashed across the meadow.
When he topped the rise, he saw exactly what he had feared-Ezak was gone. The canvas bag of sorcery was gone. Everything was gone-Ezak must have systematically collected every last item they had brought with them, from Dorna’s talismans to the bloody cloth used to clean his wounds. Nothing remained but a circle of trampled grass.
He glanced back. The fil drepessis was still pursuing him, scarcely a dozen feet away. He had slowed to survey their huddling place; now he picked up his pace again.
“Wait!” Dorna called again, from somewhere behind him. He could barely hear her over the talisman’s shrieking.
Kel did not wait. He had done this sort of thing before, though previously his pursuers had always been human-usually merchants or guardsmen. He knew not to pause, even briefly. Keep moving, that was the rule. Dodge when possible, take unexpected directions, go places the people chasing him couldn’t reach or wouldn’t fit, but most of all, keep moving.
The screaming made it hard to think. Ordinarily he had a destination in mind-usually wherever he and Ezak were living, whether it was an alley, or a cellar, or the attic above Uncle Vezalis’ place on Archer Street, or even the Wall Street Field. The first priority, though, was to lose the pursuit, and then worry about getting home.
Losing the fil drepessis was likely to be difficult, especially out here in open country where there were no corners to dodge around, no carts to hide behind, no walls to climb, no crowds to blend into. It probably didn’t have the usual human limitations- he suspected it wouldn’t need to sleep, and it wouldn’t tire, and it couldn’t be distracted or fooled by any of his usual tricks. He couldn’t hope to just outrun it and go back home to Ethshar of the Sands.
So he needed another destination, one closer at hand. He had originally hoped Ezak was still there, and could slap at the glowing squares on the thing’s top as it went past, but Ezak was gone.
He might be able to stay ahead of the thing all the way back to the Golden Rooster, in Shepherd’s Well, but he doubted it. He had not slept since about midnight, and had eaten only one small meal in that time; he was already tired.
He didn’t remember any useful landmarks along the route; they had cut through farms and meadows, and they had all looked much alike to Kel’s city-bred eyes. He didn’t know where Ezak had gone, and didn’t see an obvious trail.
But that left one other possibility. He was not going to wait for Dorna, but he decided he was going to loop back to her and see if she could stop the fil drepessis somehow.
He slowed to let the fil drepessis get closer, then suddenly dodged sideways, turned left, and put on a fresh burst of speed, running behind the ridge. The fil drepessis turned to follow him, still screaming; a glance back over his shoulder showed him that it had made the turn more efficiently than he had hoped. He turned left again, charging up and over the ridge, and out across the meadow.
Dorna was standing in the middle of the meadow, off to his left, holding her ears; he made a third turn and headed straight for her, calling, “Can you stop it?”
“I don’t…” she began.
Then he was skidding to a stop beside her, holding the fragment of Northern sorcery over his head.
“Try,” he said, as the fil drepessis came rushing toward them.
The talisman did not hesitate; still screaming, it began to run right up Kel’s body, those strange black claws grabbing at his clothes, metal legs wrapping around him.
Dorna grabbed for it, then caught herself and waited until the thing was standing on Kel’s shoulders, stretching three claws up toward the fragment, leaving the glowing blue squares facing her. She reached out and tapped a sequence.
Kel could not see clearly just what had happened, since two metal legs were across his face and the main body of the fil drepessis was on his right shoulder, but the screaming abruptly stopped, and he glimpsed a change in color-blue reflecting on one of the metal legs suddenly mixed with yellow. The talisman stopped moving, and said something in that strange language. Dorna tapped again, in an almost musical rhythm.
It said a single two-syllable word that sounded almost like “coffer,” then climbed back off him, settled to the ground, and folded itself up into its original compact form, the legs sliding into slots in the side of the main body and becoming ribs again. A heap of fragments of the ruined Northern device spilled out of it and lay on the grass beside it.
For a moment Kel and Dorna both simply stood there, panting and looking down at the fil drepessis.
“I wasn’t sure that would work,” Dorna said.
“I’m glad it did,” Kel said. “What did you do?”
“Something Nabal taught me,” she said. “It’s a pattern-you tap it out to the tune of ‘Harbor Bells,’ and it shuts down the fil drepessis. It works on several other talismans, too.”
“‘Harbor Bells’?” That was one of the few songs Kel actually knew, though he always forgot the words to the second verse. “I didn’t hear any music.”
“I was…it was in my head,” Dorna said. “I didn’t need to sing it out loud, so long as I tapped the buttons that went with the tune.”
“Oh.” Kel glanced around, then pointed. “Are we going to do anything about the Northern talisman?”
Dorna shook her head. “It’s broken,” she said. “It isn’t going to hurt anyone. Besides, it was dug into the ground, and I don’t know how far down it goes. I wouldn’t know how to get it out, and what would I do with it if I did? I don’t know how to control it. It’s been there for a couple of hundred years; as far as I’m concerned, it can stay for a couple of hundred more.”
“Oh,” Kel said.
They stood a moment longer, considering the fil drepessis; then Dorna looked up. “Where’s Ezak? I think he should be the one to carry it back.”
“Oh,” Kel said again. “Um. He’s gone.”
Dorna turned to stare at him. “Gone? What do you mean, gone?”
“He’s gone,” Kel said miserably. “He ran off with your bag.”
“He what?” She turned and stormed over to the top of the ridge, where she looked down at the empty space where Ezak should have been.
Kel stayed in the meadow, watching and chewing his lower lip. Only when Dorna had turned and was marching back, fists clenched and brows lowered in fury, did it occur to him that he could run away himself. Dorna wasn’t much taller than he was, and she was probably at least twenty years older, and he had far more experience at such things; he could almost certainly get away from her, unlike the fil drepessis, and then head for Ethshar. He could find Ezak-if he wasn’t in their usual hiding places, he could be reached through his Uncle Vezalis. If Ezak wasn’t back in his uncle’s attic, he would almost certainly have left word there. Vezalis had never liked Kel, nor Ezak, for that matter, but family was family; he would give Kel any message Ezak told him to give. Especially if Ezak had promised him a share of the proceeds from selling the stolen magic.