surrendered to the redheads. “Very soon. The fight still goes on. It does not always go just as we would have it. But the king will strike another blow against the invaders soon. And when he does, we need you.” Now he pointed at Garivald with his finger, not his stick.
“Need me for what?” Garivald asked in some alarm. If they wanted him to raise the village against the Algarvian occupiers, he was going to tell them they were out of their minds. As far as he could see, that would only get his friends and relatives--and maybe him, too--killed without accomplishing much. Zossen wasn’t on a ley line; a rising here wouldn’t keep the redheads from moving reinforcements wherever they pleased. Zossen, in fact, wasn’t even near a power point, which was why Bang Swemmel’s men had had to keep sacrificing condemned criminals to gain sorcerous energy to make their crystal function.
The crystal. . . Garivald’s hand tightened on the handle of his axe. Even before the ragged soldier spoke, Garivald guessed what he would say. And say it he did: “You have something we want, something buried in the ground.”
Garivald had thought about digging up the crystal and passing it on to the Unkerlanters who kept resisting behind Algarvian lines. He’d thought about it, but he hadn’t done it yet in spite of “Waddo’s urgings. Even trying to do it was risky. But having so many people know about it was also risky. He hadn’t said a word to anyone. Somebody else in the village must have. And what got to the irregulars’ ears also got to the Algarvians’.
“I’ll get it for you,” he said quickly. The irregulars could probably arrange to whisper into the redheads’ ears if he proved recalcitrant.
“Good.” All the ragged soldiers nodded. The fellow who was doing the talking for them went on,
“When I find it,” Garivald snarled. “Powers above, dogs can’t find the bones they bury half the time. I didn’t leave any special marks to point the way to the cursed thing. If I would have, the Algarvians’d have it by now. I’m going to have to find it.”
“Don’t waste too much time,” one of the other Unkerlanters warned him. “We need it, and no mistake.”
“If you think you can get it faster than I can, go ahead and dig for yourselves,” Garivald said. “Good luck go with you.”
“Don’t play games with us,” the irregulars’ leader said.
“Don’t be an idiot,” Garivald retorted.
He wondered if he’d pushed his countrymen too far. He tensed, ready to rush them with his axe if they tried to blaze him. He might be able to take one of them with him before he fell. But after glancing back and forth among themselves, they slipped away deeper into the protecting woods without another word.
Garivald lugged his load of firewood back to the Algarvians. The only thanks he got were a grunt and a tick against his name so he wouldn’t have to do it again for a while. Had the redheads worked to make people like them, they would have had no small following in the Duchy of Grelz. Garivald knew as much; the peasants hadn’t had an easy time of it during Swemmel’s reign. Some folk clove to the Algarvians because of that, regardless of how they were treated. Most, like Garivald, saw they were getting no better bargain and stayed aloof.
“Took you long enough,” Annore said when he came into their hut.
“Don’t you start on me,” Garivald growled. He looked around. Syrivald was outside doing something or other, while Leuba was occupied with a cloth doll stuffed with buckwheat husks. Lowering his voice, Garivald went on, “They want it.”
His wife’s eyes widened. “Can you get it?”
“I’m going to have to try.”
“Can you get it without getting caught?” Annore persisted. “Do you even know exactly where it is?”
“I’m going to have to try,” Garivald repeated. “I think I can, and maybe I’ll be able to find out where it is.”
“How?” Annore asked. “You’re no mage.”
“And I don’t need to be one, either,” Garivald said. “Everybody knows a lode-stone will draw iron, and rubbed amber will draw feathers or straw. Haven’t you ever heard that limestone will draw glass the same way?”
His wife snapped her fingers in annoyance at herself. “I have, by the powers above, but it slipped my mind. Lodestone and amber are toys to make children laugh, but how often does anyone need to draw glass to him?”
“Not very,” Garivald replied. “And there’s not much glass in Zossen
