“Nay, do mind it!” Gregory cried. “For if they take fright, and are hurted enough to become bitter and hateful, might they not flee to Alfar, and swell his strength?”
Rod thought about it, then slowly nodded. “I hate to admit it, son, but you’re right.” He turned a somber gaze on Gwen, then dropped his gaze to look at his children, one at a time.
“What thoughts dost thou engender, husband?” Gwen asked softly.
Rod lifted his gaze to her again. “This mission has definitely turned dangerous, darling. Time for you and the children to go home.”
The night was silent for a moment. Then: “ ‘Tis not fair!” Cordelia cried.
“Only now doth it gain interest!” Gregory protested.
“Nonetheless…” Rod began.
“Tis the tactics of magic!” Geoffrey cried. “Assuredly, Papa, thou’lt not deny me the chance to witness such!”
“You’re apt to get hurt!” Rod snapped. “And preventing that, is my main job in life!”
“Then wither wouldst thou be, without us?” Magnus demanded, catching at his sleeve.
“Lonely,” Rod snapped, “but effective. A lot more effective than if I’m worrying about you while I’m in the middle of a fight!”
“Yet thou hast no need to fear for us!” Cordelia cried.
“Send an army ‘gainst us, ere thou dost fear!” Geoffrey howled.
“Yeah.” Rod’s jaw tightened. “You’d just love to have an army to box with, wouldn’t you? Unfortunately, it just might have a stronger arm than you, and…”
“Husband.” Gwen’s low voice bored through his building anger. “Thou didst say, even now, that thou didst protect them.”
Rod’s head snapped up, indignation flaring. “Are you implying…?”
But Gwen was already talking to the children, rapidly. “Thy father has said there is danger in this; and if thou dost believe thyselves strong, only think—how wouldst thou fare if thou didst confront a grown warlock, at the height of his powers, an thou wert alone? If thou hadst been split away from thy brothers and sister—how then?”
Geoffrey started to answer.
Gwen pressed a hand over his mouth. “Nay, do think carefully ere thou dost speak! There is a thrill of pleasure in it, aye—but only till thou dost truly fear! Then all of thy joy in it doth die a-borning.” Her gaze came up to meet Rod’s. “ ‘Tis even as thy father doth know, for he hath been in peril. Nay, if he saith ‘tis dangerous, then assuredly the danger could strike deepest fear in thee, could kill thee.”
The children stared up at her gravely, thinking they understood.
“Yet, husband, be mindful.” Gwen looked straight into Rod’s eyes. “The foes Alfar hath sent against us thus far, have scarce begun to tax our powers. Were Alfar to send all his force against us, ‘twould be great danger, aye; but I misdoubt me an he would risk more than a moiety of his force, when he knoweth not the true depth or breadth of our power. Were he to send an army, in truth, we ought then to flee; yet if he sends only witches, the High Warlock and his family have little to fear.”
“Only enough to make it fun, eh?” Rod managed a harsh smile.
“I could not deny it,” Gwen admitted. “ ‘Tis but exercise, for a brood such as ours.”
“Yes…” Rod frowned. “He’s testing us, isn’t he?”
Geoffrey spun around, wide-eyed. “Papa! Wherefore did I not see that?”
“Experience,” Rod assured him. “But that means the attacks will become stronger, until he thinks he knows our limits. Then he’ll hit us with twice the force he thinks he needs, just to make sure.”
Geoffrey had a faraway look in his eyes. “Therefore… it doth behoove us to use as little power as we must, to defeat them.”
Rod nodded. “Which we haven’t exactly been doing, so far.”
“We may stay then?” Cordelia cried, jumping up and down.
Rod fixed them all with a glare.
They pulled themselves into line, hands clasped in front of them, heads bowed a little—but looking up at him.
“Do I have your absolute promise that you’ll all go right home, without any argument, the next time I say to?”
“Oh, yes, Papa, yes!” they cried. “We will flee, we will fly!” Cordelia avowed.
“We wouldn’t want to stay, if this sorcerer really were dangerous, Papa,” Magnus assured him.
“But you don’t believe he could be, eh?” Rod fixed his eldest with a glare.
“Well…”
“That’s all right.” Rod held up a palm. “I’ve got your promises. It’s okay—you’re still on board, at least until the next attack. And if it’s too close to being dangerous, home you go!”
“Home,” they averred.
“Still don’t believe me, eh?” Rod looked up at Gwen. “How about you? Promise?”
“I shall heed thee as strongly as ever I have done, my lord,” she said firmly.
“That’s what I was afraid of,” Rod sighed. “Well, I suppose I’ll have to be content with that. C’mon kids, let’s set up camp.”
Gwen threw her head back with a happy sigh. “Ah, ‘tis good to be aloft again.”
“I’m glad for you.” Rod gripped the broomstick tighter and swallowed heavily. His idea of flying was inside a nice, warm spaceship, with a lounge chair and an autobar. “This shooting around on a broomstick is strictly for the birds. On second thought, strike that—even the birds wouldn’t touch it.”
“Oh, certes, they would, Papa.” Cordelia shot up alongside, matching velocities. A robin sat on the tip of her broomstick, chirping cheerily.
Rod gave the bird a jaundiced glance. “Odd friends you’re making, up here.”
Gregory shot past them, flipping over onto his back to look back and wave bye-bye.
“Show-off,” Rod growled, but his heart sang at the sight of a smile on the face of his sober little son. It was good to see him be a child again.
“Regard thy way,” Gwen called after him. Gregory nodded cheerfully and flipped over onto his tummy again.
Magnus swung up alongside. “I thank thee, Papa! We are free again!”
“Delighted.” Rod tried to mean it. “Might as well, since Alfar knows who we really are, anyway.”
“Yonder.” Magnus pointed ahead. Rod looked up, and saw a line of hills, blued by distance. Magnus informed him, “Tis the Titans’ Rampart.”
“The Romanov boundary.” Rod felt his stomach suddenly grow hollow. “Somehow, I find myself less than eager to cross it.”
“But ‘twill be exciting, Papa!” Geoffrey cried, flying up on his port side.
“That’s a kind of excitement I think I can live without. Besides, I’m hungry. Darling, what do you say we find a town large enough to have an inn, this side of the boundary?”
“I misdoubt me an they’d welcome folk so poorly dressed as we, my lord.”
“Yeah, but they’d let us sit in the innyard, if we buy our food with real silver.”
“Hot sausage!” Geoffrey cried.
“Stew!” Magnus caroled.
“Toasted cheese!” Cordelia exulted.
“Hungry children,” Gwen sighed. “Well, husband, an thou dost wish it.”
“Great. Land us in a nice little copse, about half a mile out, will you? Tinkers they might accept in the innyard, but not if they use it for a landing strip.” He stared ahead hungrily. “Terra firma!”
5
As they came into the town, Cordelia gave a happy little sigh. “Tis so nice that the nasty old sorcerer knows we come toward him!”
“Oh, indeed yes,” Rod muttered. “This way, he can have a wonderful reception all ready for us! Why do you like it, dear? Because you can fly?”
“Oh, aye!”
“I dislike disguise, Papa,” Geoffrey explained.