Chapter 24.

“Wait!” shouted Pavra. She tugged sharply on the reins of her mount and the two men with her thundered past.

They looked back at her, then with annoyance at one another. Ronnæm believed he might have abandoned his grandson to some terrible evil, although he could not have remained or defended Tynec from that force. Similarly, Bozadon Reket felt that he had run away from a confrontation which he should have been able to win. Instead he had allowed himself to be swayed by one little girl and her wild proclamations.

Reading passages in Cheybal’s diary and having heard what Faubus said had convinced him of the unnatural circumstances pressing from all sides, but there were still moments when it was easier to believe that everyone else was just crazy. Nor was old Ronnæm someone he cared to be stuck with for days on end under the best of conditions.

The two men rode back to Pavra. She waited at the crossroads to which they had paid little attention—it led north to Dolgellum and they wanted to go east after the army. At least, that was where they thought they were going.

“What is the problem?” Ronnæm asked, barely civil.

Pavra had shut her eyes as if listening to something. “He has separated from the army—the one called Lyrec took this road. Earlier.”

“Now, what can that mean?” Reket muttered. “Faubus would never have allowed him to go free. Not by himself.”

“Faubus is a child with his hands in a fire,” responded Ronnæm. “He has no control over his situation at all. He should never had been made commander over more seasoned veterans, any of a dozen I could name. Child, you’d better be right about everything or we two will be laughingstocks and Faubus will be swinging by his chin.”

Undaunted, Pavra reiterated, “It’s this way, it is,” and nudged her horse onto the north road.

Ronnæm could not make up his mind. He wanted to be with the army, in the thick of battle; on this point Reket could empathize. “Let’s follow her,” he advised. “If she’s wrong, at least we will be on the right road for Novalok.”

The two men set off in pursuit of the child.

*****

Lyrec said, “We have to go immediately.”

“We would come with you,” answered Malchavik, and he stood. He looked over his people and all of them agreed. Grohd made a sour, dissentient face and cast his glance elsewhere. He had minded neither the company nor the money delivered by the Kobachs, but magic was evil—he had decided.

“I regret it isn’t all that simple,” Lyrec answered. “We won’t be moving through normal space, and I haven’t the crex enough for more than a few of you. Your powers would be useful to me, adding weight to my own. Might I instead call upon you to unify and direct them if necessary? Only if necessary.”

“Of course. Gladly.”

“Don’t agree so casually, Malchavik. You might die from this. You might all die from this.”

“What?” said Grohd.

Malchavik smiled ironically. “We recognized that before I answered. None of us would prefer to die, but we will not turn our backs on an avatar when he asks us to stand, for we want to join our own in the high places of Mordun, not in the pits.”

“Avatar?” asked Grohd.

“As you choose,” Lyrec answered the Kobachs, then turned to Grohd. “About your payment, my friend —”

“No, no.” He hadn’t considered before that Lyrec might have been sent by the gods. And that weapon — who but a god could wield such a thing? “Lyrec, dear fellow. When you come back, we’ll talk about it.” He could not quite believe he had said this, but added, “And I’ll give you drinks in celebration of your … whatever it is you’re going to do.”

Borregad gave Grohd a dreamy smile.

“You heard what he said, Borregad—when we get back.”

The cat looked the room over. “I detest long good-byes and this one has been going on for centuries. Let’s go.” He leaped into Lyrec’s arms.

The crex quivered in its sheath. Defying gravity, it poured up his side, breaking into hundreds of webs that spun around his body so fast that no eye could follow. The cat, too, began changing color as the webs spun to him. His fur flattened. Mercury-silver spread over him.

The two figures became a statue of living polished silver. Lyrec’s eyes opened. They glowed a deep blue, like the tip of a flame. Then the air rushed past the Kobachs, tugging at their clothes and hair, and Lyrec and Borregad vanished. The tavern shook in a thunderclap that knocked people off their feet and split one table down the middle. One ceiling beam cracked along its entire length.

Holding onto the bar, Grohd took stock of the damage. Then he shook one fist at the air and shouted, “God or no god, I expect you to pay for that!”