befogged spectacles, doing his best to look clever and mysterious.
That best only made Istvan snort. “You were a mage’s apprentice, Kun, not a mage on your own hook. If you saw as much as you want us to think you do, you’d have all the privileges of an officer, like that dowser named Borsos back on Obuda.”
“I can see some things about you.” Kun sounded hot. “For instance-”
Istvan’s temper kindled, too. “Can you see that I’m a sergeant? You’d better be able to see that. By the stars, you couldn’t even see that. .” He looked around. Everyone within earshot already know, was already part of, the dread secret the squad shared. “You couldn’t even see we were eating goat before we did it.”
“Don’t you blame me for that,” Kun said furiously. “You were the one who wanted to knock over the Unkerlanters for what they had in their stewpot.”
“Stuff a legging in it, both of you,” Szonyi hissed. “Somebody’s coming up to the line.”
Kun and Istvan fell silent at once. Istvan hoped his secret would stay secret till he took it to the grave-and afterwards, too, for they sometimes exhumed goat-eaters and scattered their remains. He knew a certain amount of relief when he saw Captain Tivadar coming up to the front. He couldn’t betray the secret to his company commander, for Tivadar already knew it.
But the captain had someone with him, a tubby fellow who looked nothing whatever like Kun but put Istvan in mind of him even so. As soon as Istvan saw the sorcerer’s star pinned to the stranger’s tunic, he understood why. “What’s up, sir?” he asked Captain Tivadar.
“I don’t know,” Tivadar answered. “Nobody knows, not exactly. But the Unkerlanters are up to something. That’s what’s brought Colonel Farkas here up to the front: to see if he can find out what it is.”
A mage with the nominal rank of colonel was an important fellow indeed. Istvan wasted no time in saluting. He said, “We haven’t noticed anything out of the ordinary, sir.” His eyes slid to Kun, who’d been bragging about how much he could see. Kun had the grace to look down at the snow between his boots.
Breath smoking as he spoke, Szonyi asked, “It’s not the horrible magecraft the Unkerlanters threw at us a while ago, is it? When we looked like breaking through, I mean.” He sounded anxious. As far as Istvan was concerned, he had a right to sound anxious. Istvan couldn’t imagine any man wanting to go through that terrible sorcery twice. He couldn’t imagine anybody wanting to go through it once, either, but he’d had no choice about that.
Farkas’ jowls wobbled as he shook his head. “No, I do not think this would be so dramatic as the accursed, murderous spell Swemmel’s men used there. This would be something subtler, something more devious, something the average man, even the average mage, might have trouble noting till too late.”
Kun sent Istvan a look that said,
“I do not think this is an Unkerlanter spell,” Colonel Farkas answered. “I fear it may be the same one the Kuusamans used this past summer to help drive us off the island of Obuda.”
Istvan, Kun, and Szonyi all exclaimed then. It was the first any of them had heard that Gyongyos had lost the island. Tivadar was nodding; he must have already known. To Farkas, he said, “These men previously fought on Obuda.”
“I see,” the mage said. “But they have been here in the east for some time?” Tivadar nodded. Farkas looked disappointed. “Too bad. They might have helped me detect the cantrip were things otherwise.”
“How did the Unkerknters get their hands on this spell, sir, if the Kuusamans were the ones who made it?” Istvan asked.
Farkas scowled. “All our foes hate us. All our foes plot against us. It was to be hoped that our Algarvian allies, who also war on Kuusamo and Unkerlant both, would have been able to keep them from joining hands to harm us, but such was not the case. Whether by way of the broad oceans of the north or through the Narrow Sea, the evil knowledge was passed.”
“What is the nature of the spell, sir?” Kun asked.
Farkas seemed to notice him for the first time. “You have some small measure of the gift,” he said. It was not a question. Kun bowed, showing the military mage more respect that Istvan had ever seen him give anyone else. Farkas said, “Perhaps you can assist me.”
“Sir, it would be an honor,” Kun replied.
Farkas tugged at his beard, which showed gray streaks in the midst of the golden brown. “Aye, perhaps you can indeed. You have not met the spell, but you have come to know this great, brooding wood.”
“Tell me what you would have me do, and I will do it with all my heart,” Kun said. Istvan hadn’t heard him sound so eager, either.
Farkas tugged at his beard again, considering. After a moment, he nodded, and his jowls shook again. “Very well. It is not without risk, but risk you are acquainted with. A lucky star must have shone on your captain when he chose to bring me here. Now hearken to me. As I said before, the nature of the spell is subtle. It is a lulling, a dimming, a weakening of the senses, so that the deceitful foe may glide past our outposts and seize positions of advantage.”
“The Unkerlanters ought to use it against Algarve, then, not just us,” Szonyi said. “Why have we got all the luck?”
“Because it was crafted against us.” Behind the curly tangle of Farkas’ beard, the corners of his mouth turned down. “The Algarvians are strong in certain sorceries, weak in certain others, as are we. In most cases, the differences between what one folk and another knows are of little import. Here …” His expression grew more sour still. “Here the Kuusamans are strong where we are weak, and exploited our weakness with nasty cunning.”
“Have we learned how to cope with it since they turned it on us?” Istvan asked. He cared nothing for the fancy details, but he had a good eye for what really mattered.
Farkas’ voice was dry: “We have hope, Sergeant. Aye, we have hope.”
“Would they have brought the distinguished colonel here if he could not stop the miserable Unkerlanters?” Captain Tivadar asked in reproving tones.
What Farkas did, at first, was put his head together with Kun. The sorcerer’s apprentice pointed east and a little south. Farkas nodded. He said, “Aye, I gauge that to be the proper direction, too. Now-you will be so good as to procure for me a spiderweb.”
Behind the lenses that helped them see better, Kun’s eyes widened. He gestured at the snowy landscape. “In this, sir?”
Farkas merely looked impatient. “Will you help me with all your heart, as you said, or will you fume and complain?”
Off Kun went, muttering under his breath, to paw through ferns and bushes and examine pine boughs. Istvan guessed he would be a long time volunteering again. To the sergeant’s amazement, he did find a web. “Here you are, sir,” he said, turning the mage’s title of respect to one of reproach.
Farkas said, “My thanks,” as if he’d expected nothing less from Kun. Istvan wouldn’t have wanted to be on the receiving end of the look Kun blazed at Farkas. But the military mage got to work without even noticing it. That made Kun angrier than ever. It would have angered Istvan, too. As far as the rich and powerful were concerned, common folk might as well have been beasts of burden.
Holding the scrap of web above his head, Farkas looked up to the sky through it. Part of his chant was in the old hieratic language of Gyongyos, which Istvan recognized but did not understand. Part was in another tongue altogether. In an interested voice, Captain Tivadar asked, “Is that Kaunian, from out of the east?”
“Aye,” Farkas answered, on reaching a point where he could stop. “It is a subtle tongue, and painful experience on the islands has taught us that we need subtlety to detect and neutralize this sorcery.”
He kept looking through the spiderweb. Istvan wondered if it let him see the holy stars despite daylight and cloud cover. If it did, what were the stars showing him?
Istvan got the answer to that in short order. “There are mages familiar with the nasty Kuusaman spell on
