“Precisely,” Balshin replied in the same dispassionate tone.
Miralissa didn’t say anything. She was thinking and twirling a small charred stick between the fingers of her left hand. The stick she had used to draw spells in the ash.
Oh no!
What was she thinking? To start a fight with the magicians was madness! I was quite sure she only had to break that stick, spit on it, lick it, or do something else very simple, and the slumbering shamanic magic would awaken. I glanced back, as if casually, at the road. The pikemen were still there, but they were already standing nonchalantly along the sides, talking to each other. Our group wasn’t any danger to them, especially since both magicians were dealing with us, so why not have a little chat and leave your cumbersome three-yard pike leaning up against a tree?
“You are on your way to Ranneng?” Klena asked.
“Yes,” Miralissa replied curtly.
“For what purpose?”
“On the king’s business.”
“And why did you travel along a deserted side road, and not the main highway?” the magician asked scathingly.
Now what were they after, may snow vampires tear me apart? Wasn’t it clear that our document was genuine and by hindering us this magician was letting himself in for big trouble, not only from an angry king, but also from the Order, which would never condone such headstrong behavior by its members?
“Nobody warned us that it was closed,” Hallas growled impatiently.
“All the worse for you,” Balshin said, and shrugged.
“And so we cannot pass here?” Miralissa asked, to make absolutely certain.
“Neither pass nor leave. Unfortunately,” said the magician, spreading his hands in a gesture of feigned regret. “You will have to stay here until we have defeated the disease. We cannot put the welfare of the kingdom at risk. Naturally, you will be afforded every possible comfort.”
“But we are healthy!” Lamplighter exclaimed indignantly, speaking for the first time.
“Perhaps so,” the enchantress agreed. “But you have already been told that we cannot take any risks. We shall have to detain you.”
“And how long will it take you to defeat the disease?” Ell spat out venomously.
“Three or four months. Then, if there are no new cases, we will lift the quarantine.”
“Three months!” Hallas exclaimed, choking on the words.
That left our plans in tatters. If we complied, it would be well into autumn before we reached Hrad Spein, and that meant we wouldn’t get back in time. What could we do? Break out the way we had come? But how many men would we lose in breaking out? How many would be felled by arrows, pikes, and the magicians’ spells? Almost all of us.
Our last remaining hope was the shamanic spell that Miralissa had prepared. I kept my eyes fixed on that small charred stick twirling between her fingers.
“Quiet, Hallas,” she said sharply. “Do you intend to detain us, regardless of the king’s order?”
“Yes.”
“You may find yourselves in trouble with the Council of the Order. I shall certainly inform Master Artsivus of this,” said the elfess, making one final attempt to avoid a fight.
“As you wish,” Balshin said with a polite smile. “Inform him, but only after the quarantine has been lifted, not before. You have nothing to fear. Our magic will protect you.”
It seemed to me that the magician’s advice wasn’t worth a spit from the top of the cathedral dome. And the enchantress’s cheek had twitched nervously when Miralissa mentioned the Order.
“What will happen if we refuse to obey you?” Ell asked calmly.
“We shall be obliged to use force,” Balshin said regretfully.
“Calm down, k’lissang,” Miralissa said to Ell. “We shall not spill blood and we shall comply.”
“I knew that you would heed the voice of reason,” the magician said with a polite bow.
“Where will you accommodate us?” asked Miralissa. She snapped the small stick in half with a casual gesture and threw it away.
The magicians took no notice of the elfess’s gesture. What did it matter what she might have broken and thrown away? Balshin and Klena were far too delighted that the haughty elfess had not pulled out her s’kash to pay any attention to such trifles.
“Oh, you need have no concern, Tresh Miralissa! You will be in the chasseurs’ camp, it is very—”
Balshin never finished telling us about the camp, because there were sudden howls of horror from the area of the banners. And—why deny it?—I was terrified at first, too. Until that day I’d never seen a human hand strolling down the road all on its own.
Oh yes, at first glance it was a straightforward human hand, only a bit larger. About a hundred times larger. Three riders and their horses could have fitted on its palm.
The monster shuffled its fingers in lively style as it rambled along from the direction of the village straight toward the howling bowmen. As it approached it panted sadly, and the red eyes, set on the joints of each finger, peered disapprovingly at the bellowing men.
