surrounded only one day’s journey from here. Neol Iragen’s detachment is going to take part in the forthcoming battle.”
“Are there many orcs?” Lucky inquired, stroking his beard.
“About five and a half thousand.”
“That’s enough for me,” the gnome said with a decisive nod, and Deler’s hat fell down over his eyes. “Why are you all sitting there? Let’s get moving, or they’ll finish off all the orcs without us!”
I would have liked to say that would be for the best, but I kept my mouth shut. Why upset the gnome? Hallas was as happy as a child who’d just been promised a toy.
We left Moitsig an hour and a half later to loud howls of acclamation from the townsfolk, who were seeing their warriors off on their victorious campaign (no one had any doubt that they would be victorious). The commandant had been kind enough to present us with horses as well as warm clothes.
I’d been given a dark brown stallion with a marked inclination to try to kill his masters. In any case, the beast kept attempting to break into a gallop and dispatch his unfortunate rider directly to his grave. By some cruel jest of the gods, it was a cavalry horse, whose only aim in life was to go dashing forward at breakneck speed, preferably to the sound of a bugle. After my gentle Little Bee, this example of the equine species filled me with anxiety and creeping horror. It cost me an incredible effort just to hold the hothead back and not tumble out of the saddle. Eel watched with a compassionate expression as I struggled in vain to subdue the demon of frenzied unreason that possessed the horse, until finally he couldn’t stand it anymore and offered to swap horses with me. Before the Garrakian could change his mind, I slipped out of the saddle and mounted a gentle, rather shaggy, and well-fed horse of indeterminate breed.
Now this was a horse that really suited me! She would only run if I wanted her to, or if there was an ogre chasing her.
“What’s she called?” I asked.
“Horse,” said the Garrakian, smiling.
One of the soldiers riding behind us overheard the conversation and roared with laughter. I don’t know what he found so funny.
“All right then, Horse it is,” I chuckled, patting the animal on the neck. “The name really suits her.”
“Look, Harold, over there? Those men over there, in the gray cloaks.”
“The members of the Order, you mean?”
“Those are the ones. It was that six who stopped the orcs at Moitsig.”
“Well, good for them.”
I personally felt no interest at all in the magicians.
But then I wondered what they’d say if they found out about the Rainbow Horn. And for a moment I felt the urge to hand the magical artifact over to them and never have anything more to do with magic again. I had to struggle with myself not to get rid of the Horn there and then.
The road led northward and, according to that know-all Kli-Kli, it would take us directly to Ranneng, but first we had to get past the small county of Margend, which ran along the west bank of the Iselina almost as far as Boltnik.
A detachment of mounted men six hundred strong set out from Moitsig. Two days earlier one and a half thousand heavy infantry from the Cat Halberdiers and the Rollicking Rogues had left the city in the direction of Margend. The Halberdiers had arrived in the city from Maiding immediately after the orcs in that section of the front were routed and forces had to be shifted urgently to the east, toward the Iselina. The Rollickers had been quartered in Moitsig and were spoiling for a fight.
Baron Gabsbarg’s soldier was riding in our unit, and he told me all the soldiers’ gossip. The lad jabbered away without a break, but just when I was going to ask about the baron he was called up to the front to Neol Iragen, and I had to postpone my questions for some other time.
In the way of things, our large mounted detachment ought soon to overtake the infantry and the large transport column wending its way toward the Second Army of the South that had encircled the remnants of the Firstborn. From what the soldiers were saying, we should arrive in the afternoon of the next day, in time to help our forces drive the orcs into the river. Egrassa was riding somewhere up at the head of the detachment with Neol Iragen, so we were left to our own devices. Or, rather, the gobliness was. Deprived of the elf’s oversight, Kli-Kli decided to slip back into the role of the king’s favorite jester. An hour later a good two hundred of the soldiers were laughing heartily at her jokes and songs and verses and other fancy tricks.
Ten minutes after that, the entire detachment had heard about the little sharp-tongued goblin traveling in the first unit. Naturally, the other five units started vying with each other to get Kli-Kli to join them. She was the life and soul of the honorable company once again, and she amused the soldiers until twilight fell, when the detachment halted for the night at a large village completely untouched by the war.
The locals turned out to be expecting us, and although there weren’t enough houses for such a great horde, the local baron, who had come dashing from the nearest castle, complete with his numerous retinue, had made everything ready to receive his victorious guests. Thanks to Egrassa, we were even given a house where we could spend the night.
While Eel and the elf and I were settling into the new place, Kli-Kli managed to slip off. Hallas and Lamplighter didn’t stay around for long, either. They were almost carried off shoulder-high to the center of the village, where the festivities in honor of the arrival of the glorious warriors were due to begin. I thought how many listeners the gnome would have now. The soldiers invited us as well, but I declined and Eel thought about it for a moment, then shook his head, too. Egrassa was invited to dine at the baron’s festive table and he went in order to be polite.
It was dark outside. I breathed in the cold air that felt wintry already.
“Smells like the first snow,” said Eel, as if he was reading my mind.
“It’s cool, all right,” I agreed. “November’s a cold month in the south this year.”
“Is this cold? It’s nothing but a light frost,” he chuckled. “See how pale the stars are? In a serious frost they burn like the jewels in the royal crown.”
“Our Stalkon doesn’t have all that many precious stones in his crown.”
“I meant the Garrakian crown.”
“Oh!” I said, realizing I’d said something stupid.
We said nothing for a while, listening to the happy shouting and laughter ringing out in the night.
“They’re making merry, as if there was no war at all,” I murmured.
“And why not? There’ll be war and a battle tomorrow, but today they have a chance to forget about everything. Is that such a bad thing?”
“Why no,” I said, embarrassed. “It’s probably a good thing.”
“What’s bothering you, Harold?”
I paused, trying to find the right words. Unfortunately, as usual, the ones I really needed didn’t come to mind.
“It’s not that easy to explain. What the Gray One said, the Master, the Rainbow Horn, and, of course, the balance and all the consequences that follow. It’s not very nice to think that without even wanting to, I might be carrying around the deadliest snake of all in my bag.”
“Just don’t think about it.”
“What?”
“Look here. What do you see?” He took the “sister” out of its scabbard.
“A weapon,” I muttered stupidly.
“That’s right, a weapon. Is it dangerous right now?”
“No,” I replied after a moment’s thought.
“That’s right. The ‘sister’ is in my hands. Everything depends on who’s holding the weapon and what he wants to use it for. The Rainbow Horn is a weapon just like the ‘sister,’ and it’s in your hands. I don’t believe you want to consign the world to oblivion.”
“But I won’t always have it.”
“The Order will take care of the Horn. Or don’t you trust magicians any longer?”
“I do, but what the Gray One said…”
