The big half-human stared over me, his unseeing gaze level with the top of my head, then nodded dumbly. I saw that Zeth had no weaponry, and I started to pull an extra dagger from my waist scabbard. Skralang stopped me with an upraised hand. 'Not necessary,' the old shaman said. 'Zeth has no need of blades or armor. He has all he will need.'
With a last look at me, the shaman summoned his retinue of guards and servants, then retired inside the cavern. The great doors were pulled shut behind him and barred. Not even the usual guards were posted tonight.
I swallowed as I stared up at the eyeless sockets of the white half-human. He merely looked off to the west, where the sun had vanished a while ago.
'What is your wish?' I finally asked. If I were lucky, Zeth would prove to be mad as well as blind. I wondered if the prohibition against arms and armor was meant to speed his death in battle. It made sense to me. His quick death would release us from this mission, perhaps allowing brief foraging in the countryside to gain a few pigs or cattle before returning to the Nightbelow.
The big half-human slowly turned his head to the south, as if he'd heard something in the gentle wind. Southward lay the kingdom of Durpar, which we had once raided regularly. He nodded slightly, then set off toward that distant land. After two steps, he almost fell over a log that had been pulled up to the cave entrance as a bench. He stumbled, caught himself, and walked on. No one laughed or moved to help him. We merely watched.
I nodded to myself. With luck, the mission would be a short one.
'Single file, scout fore and back, standard march,' I called. The warriors glanced at me, then fell into place. We set off into the coming night.
We marched south for about ten hours by the stars. That Zeth had some ability to sense his path became more evident as the night deepened. He would pause at times, then slowly make his way across a creek or through a rock field. At other times, he acted as blind as he appeared, running into low tree branches or dancing out of thistle. Perhaps his hearing gave him a little help, but I began to think perhaps his eyes were present but merely small and deeply set.
Dawn was coming on when I finally moved up alongside the stumbling half-human. I hesitated over proper forms of address, then ignored them all. I couldn't see that it mattered. 'Dawn is near,' I said under my breath. 'We must pitch camp soon.'
Zeth marched on in silence, his blind gaze fixed somewhere over the horizon. Abruptly he slowed and stopped. For a moment he stood, his chest heaving from exertion, then nodded quickly. 'We will stop here,' he gasped. It was more an animal moan than speech, the words wheezed out and half-mumbled. Was Zeth feebleminded as well? What was Skralang up to?
I gave the proper orders anyway and had everyone in hiding among the rocks and brush of a nearby hillside before sun-up. Zeth wandered away in the meantime, but returned to camp as the meal was served. I thought it politic to sit near him for the first meal and see if I could learn a little more about his plans-if he had any-for this expedition. My concerns grew rapidly that he would lead us straight into a human city or worse.
A plate of beans and dried meat was prepared for Zeth, and another for myself. I glanced at him as we ate, and saw that indeed he had no eyes at all. The blind half-human and I sat for a while on the hilltop in silence. 'If you wish any advice,' I began, 'I am at your service.' Zeth chewed a bit of meat for several moments, rocking slowly forward and back. Abruptly he spoke.
'When I was no more than a babe,' he said in a quiet, dry voice, 'my grandfather dug out my eyes with a spoon.' Empty sockets looked at me from an empty white face. 'He loved me very much to do that. Did anyone ever love you like that?'
I stared back, a fork full of beans halfway to my mouth. A cold finger ran down my spine. He was as mad as mad could get. I took a bite of the beans and looked around. None of the goblins was close enough to have heard anything.
'It was the only way he had to open my eyes,' continued the half-human, looking toward the predawn sky. 'Had he not done so, I'd never have seen at all. I hardly remember it now. I was told that I fought him and the others like an ogre, that my screams caused the dead to cry out. I don't recall it' The blind half-human raised a thin hand and stroked his chin. 'It had to be done. I didn't understand why then, but I learned.'
It was apparent that more than just Zeth's eyes had been dug out by Skralang's spoon. His words, however, showed him to be smarter than he had first seemed. I could think of nothing to say, so I finished my cold meal.
'It will be light soon,' said Zeth. 'We will rest, then evening will come and we will march. We will find a village.' He paused, lifting his head slightly as if listening to something far away. 'They will be halflings, farmers. There we will start.'
I swallowed the last bite slowly and chased errant bits of food across my teeth with my tongue. 'Start what?' I asked, masking my concerns. I knew from past experience that Durpar's warriors were not to be taken lightly. If any gods were leading Zeth, they could not have been our gods.
Zeth looked up. 'There we will start our teaching,' he said quietly.
'Teaching,' I repeated.
'Teaching, yes,' said Zeth, with an unmistakable note of enthusiasm. To my great concern, he then looked directly at me. 'We will teach them.'
'What? Teach them what?'
'Ah,' said Zeth. His smile grew broader. 'We will teach them what we have forgotten.'
Crickets chirped. A sparrow called down in the fields.
What would the gods do to me if I were to kill you? I thought as I looked at the pale, smiling face. What is Skra-lang expecting of me? Will I fail his unspoken desires by letting this abomination live? No, Skralang had been clear: I was to obey his grandson. But he was mad, and he was leading us into destruction.
'I should post guards,' I said and got to my feet. I needed to think. Perhaps it was unwise to risk the anger of the gods by acting directly. Nature could take its course, with a minimum of help. The half-human would be easy to dispose of just by letting him lead until he walked into a ravine or a Durpar border camp. His grandfather would undoubtedly welcome the news.
I turned to go but got only three steps when Zeth called my name. I looked back.
The blind half-human had a dagger in his right hand, holding it out to me by the blade. I felt at my belt and discovered a dagger missing. It must have slipped out when I sat down.
'You must be more careful,' he said. 'We have much to do tonight.'
He handed the weapon to me, the handle aimed exactly at my stomach. I took back my dagger and left, looking back several times as I did.
We were on our feet and moving before the sun had vanished behind the low western hills. The half-moon lighted our way. Zeth strode easily through the tall grass that paralleled a cart track a half-mile east of us, to our left. I posted a forward scout and two scouts to the left and right. Yet another scout trailed Zeth by a dozen paces, and the rest of us followed after.
As before, the big half-human avoided most obstacles in his path, winding his way around them with unusual care. If he stumbled, he caught his balance gracelessly but quickly. I wondered whether the gods had made Zeth insane and his eyes simply invisible, or if it was all an elaborate trick, something Skralang thought up to test me. I thought of Zeth staring at me that morning, and a tightness grew in my stomach.
I was growing used to the mindlessness of the situation- a company of goblins led by a blind madman-but I saw its dangers as well. The warriors grumbled among themselves, and some began to treat the outing as a farce. They walked with weapons sheathed, laughed at private jokes, pushed and shoved one another in line.
I did not let this go on long. I dropped back among the file and located one of the worst offenders, who had fallen earlier and scraped his knees and hands. As he complained about the pain for the third time, I pulled the lash from my belt and struck him.
The lash caught him full across the face, just below the eyes. Before he could cry out, the lash came back and snapped across his back like a brand of fire. His cry was cut off by his intake of breath at the second hit, and he fell to his knees, hands covering his face.
The column behind him stopped, but at a gesture from me, continued on around him. I waited with the warrior as the column filed past. After a few moments, he regained his feet and picked up his weapon. I watched as
