Once he caught Hart looking around with an air of disapproval, and assured him that well before they reached the Davrahil they would find more than adequate cover.
An hour later, they did.
Ravagin had been to these marshes only once before, nearly seven years earlier, and the place had not noticeably improved since then. In the daylight, he knew, the predominant characteristics would be the incredibly colored plant life growing around and on the black-trunked trees, and the multitude of animal, bird, and insect sounds. Now, in the dead of night, the first thing Ravagin noticed was the rancid smell.
There weren't any real paths into the marshes, but for a couple of kilometers at least Ravagin knew the land would be reasonably passable. Dismounting, he led the way, checking with his feet for holes and soft spots that might endanger their horses and with his hands for the sort of dangerous thorn limbs that always seemed to find a traveler at the wrong moment. More that once he regretted having had to leave the way house without any of his home-made torches, but there was nothing for it now.
Invoking a dazzler was, of course, completely out of the question.
They'd struggled their way about half a kilometer inside the marshes when he called it quits. A small tree-covered knoll provided them with at least a little grazing space for their horses and enough dry ground for Danae's needs.
Fifteen minutes later, with the aroma of burning incense mixing oddly with the swampy odors, Danae began her invocation.
"How much longer is this going to take?" Hart asked softly.
Ravagin shifted his attention from Danae's motionless cross-legged form to the vaguely brightening sky overhead. She'd been sitting there in communion with the demogorgon for at least half an hour now. "No idea," he told Hart. "I came in on the middle the last time she did this, and I still had to wait for twenty minutes or so before she came out of it."
Hart hissed between his teeth. "I should have insisted she let me do this."
Ravagin eyed the other. "You been her bodyguard long?" he asked.
The other threw him a sharp look, shifted his eyes back to Danae. "Since she was seven. Fifteen years."
"Almost the same time I've been ferrying people in and out of the Hidden Worlds," Ravagin commented. "It's easy to get stuck in a frame of mind, isn't it."
Hart smiled lopsidedly. "If you're suggesting I take my job too seriously... don't. There isn't any way to take bodyguarding too seriously."
"Un-huh." Ravagin paused, casting around for another topic of conversation. "So. You mentioned earlier that you'd talked to Gartanis. Did he say anything about what happened to his lar?"
"Not really, but as I said earlier he was furious that Melentha would attack him so brazenly."
"So he knew Melentha was behind it?"
"Oh, certainly. I get the feeling he's at least suspected her involvement with demons for a long time.
A pity we can't enlist him onto our side in fighting her."
"We tell a Karyxite about Shamsheer and Threshold and we'll be dog meat as far as Triplet Control is concerned," Ravagin told him.
"Yes, I understand the rules," Hart said. "I also don't give a damn about rules if breaking them will make a life-and-death difference."
Ravagin thought about the automatic penalties that accompanied the illegal disclosure laws.
Penalties even Cowan mal ce Taeger might find himself helpless to alter... "Let's wait and see what Danae comes up with before we try anything that drastic, shall we? Besides, didn't you mention earlier that Gartanis had already given you some help?"
"Spells designed to break a path through Melentha's defenses," the other shrugged. "Useless, really, for the way the game's changed." He paused, an odd expression on his face. "These more elaborate spells—the spirit-protection ones and all—they're distance-oriented, aren't they? As in their effect decreases as distance from the spell-caster increases, I mean."
"Well..." Ravagin considered. "Yes, to some extent that's true. Why?"
Hart was silent a long moment. "If Danae is able to get this spirit invisibility thing... I want you to help me arrange things so that I'm only partially covered by it."
"There'll be no need for that," Ravagin assured him. "There won't be any trouble getting the spell to cover all of us equally well."
"I understand, but that's not what I meant. I intend to leave you two as soon as we're protected and make my own way back to the Tunnel, arriving—ideally—a day or so after you're already through.
With only partial invisibility, I should be able to attract and thus draw off the bulk of Melentha's surveillance and attack."
It was something he should have expected, Ravagin realized in retrospect, but it still came as a shock. Only someone ignorant of the dangers of Karyx would even have thought up such a scheme, let alone suggested it. "Forget it," he said when he found his voice. "I'm not leaving you here as a moving target for whatever the hell the demons might decide to throw at you."
"Then you automatically expose Ms. mal ce Taeger to greater danger," Hart responded coolly. "Is that how conscientious Couriers do things?"
"And what if you get caught?"
"What of it? I'm not your responsibility; Danae is."
Ravagin felt his molars grinding together. "And you don't think it would endanger her for you to be caught and questioned?" he snapped.
"No," Hart said calmly. "I've been trained to resist that sort of interrogation—certainly for the few days it'll take you to get her to safety. Face facts, Ravagin: letting me draw off the pursuit is the best chance you've got, and you know it."
"Hart—damn." Ravagin sighed. "All right, you win. But you get yourself killed out there and you'll be in big trouble."
Hart smiled slightly. "I'll remember that." He nodded toward Danae. "Something's happening."
Ravagin shifted his attention. "She's coming out of it, I think," he said. "She's starting to cast shadows again..."
And with an abrupt gasp, Danae collapsed to the ground.
Ravagin and Hart reached her at about the same time. "Danae?" Ravagin called tentatively, patting her cheek. "Danae? Come on, come on—say something."
"Not till you stop shouting and slapping me," she said hoarsely, her eyes still squeezed shut. "Oh, that's loud. What time is it, anyway, noon?"
"About dawn," Hart told her. "Are you having problems with your eyes?"
"You could say that. I don't think I can open them—it's too bright out there."
Hart threw Ravagin an odd look. "I'll shade them with my hand. Okay; try opening them a bit."
"No—no good," she said. "It's still too bright. God, I hope this isn't permanent."
"We'll just have to wait and see," Ravagin told her, fishing a handkerchief from his pocket. "Let's try a blindfold, see if that at least cuts down the glare."
"Yes," she said slowly a minute later. "Yes, that helps. Everything else seems okay. I, uh—do I look okay otherwise?"
"Near as I can tell," Ravagin assured her. "So... what happened?"
"The demogorgon took me back to the fourth world. It's weird there, Ravagin—really weird. Oh, and I got the spell we need, too. But I can only use it once."
"Why?" Hart asked.
"The demogorgon said it would fade from my memory after I'd done it once."
"I take it you didn't mention your mnemonic training—"
"He already knew about it. Said it wouldn't make any difference. God, that's bright. Well; you ready to become invisible to spirits?"