Magnus frowned, looking away. “There must be a way. How doth one do it, Papa? Without magic, I mean.”
“Only with a bomb, son.”
Magnus looked up. “What is a ‘bomb?’ ”
“A thing that makes a huge explosion, like a lightning-blast.”
Magnus’s face cleared. “Why, that I can do!”
Rod stared at him, feeling his hair trying to stand on end. He might be able to do it—he just might. No one knew for sure, yet, just what the limits were to Magnus’s powers—if there were any. “Maybe you could,” he said softly. “And how many would die in the doing of it?”
Magnus stared at him; then he turned away, crestfallen. “Most, I think. Aye, thou hast the right of it, Papa. We cannot withstand an army—not with any conscience.”
“Stout lad,” Rod said softly, and felt a gush of pride and love for his eldest. If only the kid could pick it up, straight from his mind!
Instead, he had to content himself with clasping Magnus’s shoulder. “Well, then! How will we do it? First, we need some information. What did you get from him while you had him talking, dear?”
“He had a bonfire of craving,” Cordelia said. “That, we could not shut out!”
Rod went so still that Magnus looked up at him, startled.
“Nought but what one would expect from so foul a man,” Gwen said quickly. “Indeed, I doubt a lass doth cross his threshold that he doth not so desire!”
“But what doth he want them for, Mama?” Cordelia piped.
“That’s one of the things we don’t want you hearing from his mind, darling,” Rod said grimly.
“Papa, cool thy spirit,” Gwen cautioned.
“I will, for the time being. But when I can get him alone, I think Duke Foidin and I will have a very interesting exchange.”
“Of thoughts?” Magnus frowned.
“Interpret it as you will, son. But, speaking of thoughts, dear…?”
“Well!” Gwen sat down on the bed, clasping her hands in her lap. “To begin with, Lord Kern was the old King’s Lord High Warlock.”
Rod stared.
Gwen nodded. “And I do not ken the meaning of it, for none at that table could hear thoughts—of this, I’m certain. Still, the Duke is sure Lord Kern wields magic, and knows of several others—but none so strong as Kern.”
“No wonder he wants us! But what kind of magic do they do here, if they aren’t espers?”
Gwen shook her head. “I cannot tell; there were no clear events. Beneath the surface of his mind, there was but a feel of many mighty deeds unrolling.”
“There was making many men at once to disappear,” Magnus chipped in, “and summoning of dragons, and of spirits.”
“And calling up the fairies! Oh! ‘Twas pretty!” Cordelia clapped her hands.
“An’ swords, Papa!” Geoff crowed in excitement. “Swords that cut through all, and could fight by th’selves!”
Rod stared.
Then his gaze darkened, and he turned slowly, glowering down at each child in turn.
They realized their mistake, and shrank back into themselves.
“Mama only said not to listen to the Duke’s mind,” Magnus explained. “She said nothing of the other folk.”
Rod stilled.
Then he looked up at Gwen, fighting a grin.
“ ‘Tis true,” she said, through a small, tight smile. “In truth, it may have been a good idea.”
“There were some with nasty, twisted thoughts,” Magnus said eagerly, “but I knew that was why Mama did not wish us to ‘listen’ to the Duke, so I shunned those minds, and bade Cordelia and Geoffrey to do the same.”
“Thou’rt not to command,” Cordelia retorted, “Papa hath said so!… Yet in this case, I thought thou hadst the right of it.”
Rod and Gwen stared at each other for a moment; then they both burst out laughing.
“What, what?” Magnus stared from one to the other; then he picked it up from his mother’s mind. “Oh! Thou art that pleased with us!”
“Aye, my jo, and amazed at how well thou dost, without fully understanding what or why I bade thee,” Gwen hugged Geoff and Cordelia to her, and Rod caught Magnus against his hip. “So! Magic works here, eh?” It raised a nasty, prickling thought; but Rod kept it to himself.
“It seems it doth, or there is something that doth pass for it. The old King sent Lord Kern away, to fight some bandits in the northeast country; then the King died. But Duke Foidin’s estate’s nearby, and the Duke was the King’s first cousin—so, even though he was out of favor with the King, he and his army were able to seize young Elidor and, with him, the strings of government. His army was the largest, three-quarters of the royal force being with Lord Kern; so when he named himself as regent, none cared to challenge him.” Her voice sank. “It was not clear, but I think he had a hand in the old King’s death.”
The children sat silent, huge-eyed.
“It fits his style,” Rod said grimly. “What’s this nonsense about a spirit having closed the pass?”
“No nonsense, that—or, at least, the Duke doth in truth believe it. Yet the spirit was not summoned by Lord Kern; it’s been there many years. The High Warlock’s force went to the northwest by sea.”
“Hm.” Thoughts of Scylla and Charybdis flitted through Rod’s mind. “Be interesting to find out what this ‘spirit’ really is. But what keeps Lord Kern from filtering his troops through smaller passes?”
“The Duke’s own army, or a part of it. Once he’d seized Elidor, he fortified the mountains; so, when Lord Kern turned his army southward, he was already penned in. Moreover, the ships that landed him, the Duke burned in their harbor. He has at most ten ships in his full-vaunted ‘Navy’—but they suffice; Lord Kern has none.”
“Well, he’s probably built a few, by this time—but not enough. So he’s really penned in, huh?”
“He is; yet Duke Foidin lives in fear of him; it seems he is most powerful in magic.”
“But not powerful enough to take the spirit at the pass?”
Gwen shook her head. “And is too wise to try. Repute names that spirit most powerful.”
“Must be a natural hazard.” Rod had a fleeting vision of a high pass with tall, sheer cliffs on either side, heaped high with permanent snow. An army doesn’t move without a lot of noise; an avalanche… “Still, Duke Foidin no doubt lives in dread of Lord Kern’s finding a way to fly his whole army in. Does he really think we’d work for him?”
“He doubts it; though what had he to lose in trying? Yet he’s not overly assured by ‘our’ victory o’er the Each Uisge; he doth not trust good folk.”
“Wise, in view of his character.”
“Yet even if we’ll not labour for him, he doth want us.” Gwen’s face clouded. “For what purpose, I cannot say; ‘twas too deeply buried, and too dark.”
“Hm.” Rod frowned. “That’s strange; I was expecting something straightforward, like a bit of sadism. Still, with that man, I suppose nothing’d be straightforward. I’d almost think that’s true of this whole land.”
“What land is that, Rod?” Gwen’s voice was small.
Rod shrugged irritably. “Who knows? We don’t exactly have enough data to go on, yet. It looks like Gramarye—but if it is, we’ve got to be way far in the future—at least a thousand years, at a guess.”
“There would be more witches,” Gwen said softly.
Rod nodded. “Yes, there would. And where’d the Each Uisge come from, and the Crodh Mara? Same place as the Gramarye elves, werewolves, and ghosts, I suppose—but that would mean they’d have risen from latent telepaths thinking about them. And there weren’t any legends about them in Gramarye—were there?”
“I had never heard of them.”
“None had ever told us of them,” Magnus agreed.
“And the elves have told you darn near every folk-tale Gramarye holds. But a thousand years is time for a lot of new tales to crop up… Oh, come on! There’s no point in talking about it; we’re just guessing. Let’s wait until we have some hard information.”