“I will, my lord.” She released him, but held his gaze with her own.
“Okay.” He took a deep breath, and looked up at the children. “You know what hypnosis is.”
“Aye, Papa.” They stared at him, round-eyed.
“Well, that’s what we’re facing.” Rod’s lips drew back into a thin, tight line. “Somebody’s sending out a mental broadcast that’s putting everybody’s conscious minds asleep. This whole town is in the early stages of mass hypnosis.”
The children stared, appalled.
Rod nodded. “Someone, or something, up there, is a heck of a lot more powerful a projective telepath, than we’ve ever dreamed of.”
“But it hath not the feel of a person’s mind, my lord!” Gwen protested. “Oh, aye, the thoughts themselves do—but that lulling, that pressure that doth soothe into mindlessness—‘tis only power, without a mind to engender it!”
Rod had a brief, lurid memory of the genetically altered chimpanzee he’d had to fight some years ago. Actually, it was its power he’d had to fight; the poor beast had no mind of its own. The futurians, who were continually trying to conquer Gramarye, had just used it as a converter, transforming minute currents of electricity into psionic power-blasts that could stun a whole army. When they’d finally found the chimp, it had been one of the ugliest, most obscene things he’d ever seen—and one of the most pitiable. Rod shuddered, and looked into his wife’s eyes. “I don’t know what it is—but I don’t like the climate. Come on—eat up, and let’s go.”
They turned back to their food, with relief. But after a bit, Cordelia looked up. “Not hungry, Papa.”
“I know the feeling,” Rod growled, “but you will be. Choke down at least one bowlful, will you?” He turned to Gwen. “Let’s take the bread and sausage along.”
She nodded, and began to wrap the food in his handkerchief.
Rod turned back to his children—and frowned. There was something wrong, some flaw in their disguise…
Then he found it. “Don’t forget to bicker a little, children. It’s not normal, to go through a whole lunch without being naughty.”
They passed the last house at the edge of the village. Rod muttered, “Not yet, kids. Another hundred yards; then we’re safe.”
For a moment, Geoffrey looked as though he were going to protest. Then he squared his shoulders like his siblings, gritted his teeth, and plowed on for another three hundred feet. Then Rod stopped. “Okay. Now!”
With one voice, the whole family expelled a huge sigh of relief. Cordelia began to tremble. “Papa—‘tis horrid!”
Gwen reached to catch her up, but Rod beat her to it. He swept the little girl into his arms, stopping her shuddering with a bear hug. “I know, I know, baby. But be brave—there’ll be worse than this, before we’re done with Alfar.” Or he’s done with us; the thought fleeted through his mind, but he helped it fleet on out; a father whose children could read minds couldn’t afford defeatist thinking. Talk about thought control… Rod cast an appealing glance over Cordelia’s shoulder, at Gwen. “Don’t you think it’s time for you folks to go home now?”
Gwen’s chin finned and lifted. Below her, three smaller chins repeated the movement. “Nay, my lord,” she said firmly. “Tis eerie, and doth make one’s flesh to creep—yet for us, there is, as yet, no greater danger than we saw last night, and thou mayest yet have need of our magics.”
“I can’t deny that last part,” Rod sighed, “and I suppose you’re right—that village may have been nasty, but it wasn’t any more dangerous than it was last night. Okay—we go on as a family.”
The boys broke into broad smiles, and Cordelia sat up in Rod’s arms and clapped her hands together. Rod set her down, set his fists on his hips, and surveyed his children with a stern eye. “You do realize what’s going on back there, don’t you?”
They all nodded, and Magnus said, “Aye, Papa.” Geoffrey explained, “Alfar doth prepare the town for conquest.”
Rod nodded, his gaze on his second son. “How will he take them?”
The boy shrugged. “In peace. He will march in, and they will acclaim him as their friend and master, and bow to him—and all of this without a ever a drop of blood shed.”
There was a definite note of admiration in his voice. Rod shook his head. “Good analysis—but be careful, son. Don’t start thinking that ability implies goodness.”
“Oh, nay, Papa! Ne’er could I think so! He is a worthy enemy—but that’s just to say, he would not be worthy an he were not able; but he would not be an enemy were he not evil.”
Rod took a deep breath and stilled, with his mouth open, before he said, “We-e-e-ll… there are enemies who might not be really evil—they’d just be trying to get the same thing you’re trying to get.”
But Geoffrey shook his head firmly. “Nay, Papa. Such be rivals, not enemies.”
Rod stilled with his mouth open again. Then he shrugged. “Okay—as long as you make the distinction.” He took a deep breath, looking around at his family. “So. I think we’ve got a better idea, now, about how Alfar works. First he takes over most of the population with long-range hypnosis. Then he sends his minions in to intimidate anybody who didn’t hypnotize easily.”
“There be such, Papa?” Cordelia asked in surprise.
Rod nodded. “Oh, yes, dear. That particular kind of magic isn’t exactly foolproof; there’ll always be a few people who aren’t terribly open to letting somebody else take over their minds—I hope.”
“And there be those who will not bow to him from fear, either,” Geoffrey said stoutly.
“Oh, yes. And if any of those happen to be knights, or lords, and march against him with their men-at-arms—by the time they get to Alfar, he’ll have most of the soldiers convinced they don’t want to win.”
“Aye. Tis the way of it.” Geoffrey looked up at his father with a glow of pride.
“Thanks, son.” Rod smiled, amused. “Just adding things up.” Then his smile faded. “But what the heck kind of projective telepath does he have, that can reach out over a hundred miles to hypnotize a whole village?”
They set up camp, with trenches for beds and pine boughs for mattresses. The kids rolled up in their blankets, and were instantly asleep—at least, as far as Rod could see.
He didn’t trust them. “What child is this who, laid to rest, sleeps?” he asked Gwen.
She gazed off into space for a moment, listening with her mind. He decided to try it, himself, so he closed his eyes and blanked his mind, envying the ease with which she did it. After a few seconds, he began to hear the children’s low, excited, mental conversation. He rolled his eyes up in exasperation and started to get up—but Gwen caught his arm. “Nay, my lord. Let them speak with one another, I prithee; ‘twill lull them to sleep.”
“Well…” Rod glanced back at her.
“Yet what will lull us?” she murmured.
He stared down at her, drinking in her beauty. Her femininity hit him with physical force, and he dropped back down beside her, one arm spread out in return invitation. “I’m sure I’ll think of something, dear—but it takes some creativity, when the kids are watching.”
She turned her head to the side, watching him out of the corners of her eyes. “Their lids are closed.”
“But not their minds.” Rod pressed a finger over her lips. “Hush up, temptress, or I’ll put you back in your teapot.”