She nodded, her mouth in a tight, grim line.
'I don't like this, you know,' she said conversationally, although he sensed the anger under the casual tone. 'If it were up to me, these bastards would all wake up eunuchs - if I let them wake up at all. I'd rather get rid of them altogether. Permanently. Let their gods sort them out.'
'If it were my judgment, I would agree with you.' He shook his head and sighed. If this were home, he could do as she preferred without a second thought. But it was not; they were not alone, they could not fade into the scenery and vanish. More importantly, however, neither could the people of the carnival and town.
If these men were maimed or killed, retribution would fall, and swiftly, on both the wagon-folk and the village. The only people who had even a chance to escape that punishment would be the Valdemarans, who had magic that would help them get away. Assuming that Ancar's mages did not try to track them. To put the villagers and Faire-folk into such danger would be an act of unforgivable arrogance.
No, there was no real choice in the matter; he and Elspeth would simply follow the plan they always used. These men would sleep walk themselves back to their barracks. They would wake up tomorrow with no memory of the molestation, and no memory of being struck down as they either participated, watched and cheered, or waited their turn. They would only remember that they had a good time at the carnival, that they drank more than they should of that drink of dubious origin, and that they had crawled back to their quarters and passed out.
'At least let me give them the worst hangovers they've ever had in their lives,' Elspeth begged fiercely. 'And make them impotent while the hangovers last!'
He sighed, not because he didn't agree with her but because it seemed far too petty a punishment, but it was all they dared mete out.
'I wish we could do worse to them,' he said. 'I wish we could fix everything. Our best chance at that is to do what we came here to do. Get rid of Ancar, Falconsbane, and Hulda.'
She nodded grimly but softened as she meshed her mind and talents with his. In a few moments, it was done, and the men began to rise woodenly, stumbling to their feet and bumbling in the direction of their barracks. Their faces were blank, their eyes glazed, and they looked altogether like walking corpses.
'I'd like to give them plague,' Elspeth muttered, staring after them. 'I would, if I didn't think the townsfolk would catch it. Maybe some lice or social disease. Genital leprosy?'
As the last of them rose and bumbled off, Firesong stood up, slowly, looking a little better, but still drained and sickly. The last of the wagon-folk were gone, too, and from the sounds all over the encampment, they were getting ready to leave. There were two torches stuck into the ground that gave fitful, sputtering light. 'It is hard on a mage to cast magics when there has been no time to prepare for them,' he murmured, his expression open and vulnerable and showing much of the pain he must be feeling. And also some guilt. 'Had to push it through with personal power, and damp it all down, so we wouldn't be discovered.' Firesong rubbed his eyes. 'Still. I feel I could have prevented this if I had only acted sooner.'
'You need not feel guilty,' Darkwind said quietly as Elspeth nodded, trying to put some force into his words so that Firesong would believe him. 'You were faster than we were. And you did the best you could.'
Firesong looked down at his hands. 'But it was not enough,' he said unhappily, the strain in his voice betraying how deeply he ached over this. 'Where is the poor lad? Liam was his name? I do not like to think of him being alone - '
'Gerdo has him,' Elspeth said. 'He carried him off to their wagon.'
Firesong looked astonished at that; Darkwind was a little surprised himself. Gerdo was one of the contortionists, and if he'd spoken a dozen words to Liam in all the time they'd been in Hardorn, Darkwind, at least, didn't know about it. They were, at best, casual acquaintances.
'He said Sara would understand,' Elspeth continued, 'since she was attacked herself. And he said something else, that he knew how Liam felt, sort of, because the same thing happened to him when he was a boy. He said they could at least tell Liam that it wasn't his fault. Maybe if they tell him often enough, he'll start to believe it.'
'I feel I must go apologize,' Firesong said after a moment.
Darkwind nodded, and sensed Elspeth's agreement and Gwena's gentle urging. 'Do you mind if we join you?' he said simply.
There was no rest for them that night; the entire carnival packed up and moved in the dark. They did not stop until the next village that did not have a garrison of Ancar's men. Darkwind, Elspeth, Nyara, and Skif took turns driving the wagon and sleeping in it. The poor Companions and the dyheli had no such luxury; they had to make their way on their own four hooves. Firesong spent most of that day and night with Gerdo, helping with Liam. Darkwind was not surprised at that; Firesong was a Healing Adept, after all, even though he was not a body-Healer per se. He had the ability to do Liam a great deal of good - and Liam's plight could do Firesong an equal amount of good.
Firesong was talented, Gifted, beautiful, and arrogant. In many ways, he had seen himself as above everyone else in this mission, even his fellow Tayledras. Nothing had really touched him except the damage done to the land;
