Damn it! No matter
how much I wanted it Mogaba refused to be stupid. Facing potential
problems with an infestation of airborne wizards? Take advantage of
the season’s almost constant winds. Put up about ten thousand
giant box kites with poisoned sharp things hanging on tails made of
braided fibers almost too tough to cut.
There would be no zooming about with youthful exuberance over
Taglios. Especially not after dark. Those kites would not be able
to hurt us in our Voroshk clothing but they could entangle us and
knock us off our posts. Whereupon whoever lost their seat would
need someone else to come along and bring them out.
Unless . . .
Shukrat once fixed me up with a post that would travel on its
own when its master could not manage it.
I issued an order.
Just hours later Shukrat’s post brought the girl herself
back virtually mummified in cord and deadly sharps that took hours
to overcome. But she had cleaned away scores of kites.
I made Tobo untangle her. I was having a real problem getting
him engaged with life. But Shukrat was supposed to be important to
him.
She certainly thought so. Once he finished freeing her, too
slowly to suit her, she popped him in the middle of the forehead
with the heel of her right hand. “How about you at least
pretend to be interested, Tobe?” And, moments later,
“You’re making me wonder just how bright I
am.”
Tobo was a real young man. He started to protest. I tried to
warn him by shaking my head. No way was he going to break even
here. Shukrat cut him off, unwilling to grant him the validity of
any excuse. After that I tried not to hear what they were
saying.
I mused on Shukrat’s swift, nearly effortless grasp of
Taglian. She had almost no accent at all, now. And she appeared
equally adaptable regarding strange customs.
Arkana was having more difficulty but she was coming along
marvelously, too.
Having allowed the girlfriend time to make her point, I
approached Tobo. “Tobo, we need to know about what’s
going on behind those walls.”
He did not look like he cared much.
Shukrat punched him.
I told him, “You have to let go.”
He gave me one ugly look.
“You have to let go of the guilt. It wasn’t your
fault.”
I doubted that telling him would do any good. These things never
are rational. Your mind goes on chasing the irrational even when it
knows the truth. If Tobo wanted to feel guilty about his father and
mother he would find ways to do that in the face of every argument,
of any bit of evidence, and of all the common sense in the
universe. I know. I have suffered through that bleak season a few
times myself.
I had a little of it going right then, featuring my wife.
Shukrat said, “The Great General did it, Tobe. The Taglian
supreme commander. And he’s inside those same
walls.”
There you go, girl. Appeal to the darkness within, to the stores
of rage and hatred. We really needed to get those emotions cooking
inside the most powerful sorcerer left in this part of the
world.
Damn it! No matter
how much I wanted it Mogaba refused to be stupid. Facing potential
problems with an infestation of airborne wizards? Take advantage of
the season’s almost constant winds. Put up about ten thousand
giant box kites with poisoned sharp things hanging on tails made of
braided fibers almost too tough to cut.
There would be no zooming about with youthful exuberance over
Taglios. Especially not after dark. Those kites would not be able
to hurt us in our Voroshk clothing but they could entangle us and
knock us off our posts. Whereupon whoever lost their seat would
need someone else to come along and bring them out.
Unless . . .
Shukrat once fixed me up with a post that would travel on its
own when its master could not manage it.
I issued an order.
Just hours later Shukrat’s post brought the girl herself
back virtually mummified in cord and deadly sharps that took hours
to overcome. But she had cleaned away scores of kites.
I made Tobo untangle her. I was having a real problem getting
him engaged with life. But Shukrat was supposed to be important to
him.
She certainly thought so. Once he finished freeing her, too
slowly to suit her, she popped him in the middle of the forehead
with the heel of her right hand. “How about you at least
pretend to be interested, Tobe?” And, moments later,
“You’re making me wonder just how bright I
am.”
Tobo was a real young man. He started to protest. I tried to
warn him by shaking my head. No way was he going to break even
here. Shukrat cut him off, unwilling to grant him the validity of
any excuse. After that I tried not to hear what they were
saying.
I mused on Shukrat’s swift, nearly effortless grasp of
Taglian. She had almost no accent at all, now. And she appeared
equally adaptable regarding strange customs.
Arkana was having more difficulty but she was coming along
marvelously, too.
Having allowed the girlfriend time to make her point, I
approached Tobo. “Tobo, we need to know about what’s
going on behind those walls.”
He did not look like he cared much.
Shukrat punched him.
I told him, “You have to let go.”
He gave me one ugly look.
“You have to let go of the guilt. It wasn’t your
fault.”
I doubted that telling him would do any good. These things never
are rational. Your mind goes on chasing the irrational even when it
knows the truth. If Tobo wanted to feel guilty about his father and
mother he would find ways to do that in the face of every argument,
of any bit of evidence, and of all the common sense in the
universe. I know. I have suffered through that bleak season a few
times myself.
I had a little of it going right then, featuring my wife.
Shukrat said, “The Great General did it, Tobe. The Taglian
supreme commander. And he’s inside those same
walls.”
There you go, girl. Appeal to the darkness within, to the stores
of rage and hatred. We really needed to get those emotions cooking
inside the most powerful sorcerer left in this part of the
world.