she was a piece of the puzzle ricocheted through his mind.
And she must have some feelings for him. Why did she not express them instead of dwelling on irrelevant faults? Why couldn't she be more like Augusta, warm and friendly, rather than carefully meting out favors only in exchange for some gain?
Jemidon looked back at Delia and saw her patiently waiting, her face a pleasant mask. For a long moment there was silence.
'You are right in that the solution to any puzzle can be improved if it is studied again,' he said at last. 'The number of steps until the pieces disentangle can be lessened, or the beauty of how one manipulation logically follows another enhanced. It is Burdon we must free from this pit. Burdon, more so than you or I. He was the one who has called the archmage. And failing that, it is he to whom Kenton and the other nobles might listen. We must wait until he awakens-until the right time when he can make good his escape.'
'So it would seem to me as well,' Delia said softly. 'We must stimulate his recovery as best we can and then tell him everything we know. Give him a plan, something he can carry back and put to work against the magics Melizar will employ. We can use the time while we wait to explore all the details of what we will do.'
'Then let us begin with formulating the message to the archmage.' Jemidon released the coin about his neck. The tension was gone just as suddenly as it had come. He looked down at Delia's outstretched hand. 'Anything else?' he asked.
Jemidon watched impatiently as the ceiling dissolved. Under Delia's direction, the sprite rose slowly, creating a void above its head. As the sphere drew farther away, the intersection with the bubble in which he was standing became less. He saw a circle of rock squeeze in from the sides, restricting the view into a smaller and smaller area. When the diameter had shrunk to barely three feet across, a beam of light burst through at the apex, outshining the feeble glow of the imps dancing over the manipulants. An incoherent mixture of excited voices tumbled through the opening and filled the den with sound.
'A little bit more,' Jemidon said. 'We can still squeeze through the constriction between your sphere and the one below, if you separate them somewhat farther. But we need at least the length of a forearm for the diameter of the one at the surface of the ground.'
The sprite halted at Jemidon's words and folded his bony arms across his chest. 'You are not the one who took my side against the mushbrains who babble so,' he said. 'It is to the golden curls that I choose to show my favor.'
Jemidon waved his arm in exasperation and motioned Delia to come forward. In a few moments, using words hardly different from his own, she molded the passage to the surface in the proper proportions.
Without saying more, Delia placed her foot on Jemidon's intertwined fingers and boosted herself into the upper sphere. Jemidon wriggled his torso after until he stood erect between the two globes. Delia climbed on his shoulders and cautiously raised her eyes above the level of the ground. She paused a moment to look in all directions and then stretched to full height, scrambling out of the hole.
An instant later, a crude rope made of belts and torn clothing snaked back into the pit. Jemidon pulled himself up and out. Together, they hoisted out Burdon and the still slumbering Drandor.
Jemidon looked quickly about. His pulse began to race. They were on a flat ledge on the slopes of one of the mountains. The folds of Melizar's tent stood immediately to the left, quietly flapping in a midmorning breeze. The excited shouts came from a second ledge immediately below. Much wider, it ran out of sight around the curve of the mountain in both directions, All along, its length was packed with men, some dressed in leather, some with helmets of horn, others in bare-sleeved tunics, waving flails in the air.
With hoarse shouts and cheers, they rained abuse and taunts down on the valley below. Everyone's attention was turned away. No one bothered to watch what was happening in the vicinity of the tent.
Below the lower ledge, the ground fell rapidly away. Like a blanket covered with crumbs, the slope was littered with boulders. Cracked rocks and gaping fissures laced the slanting ground in intricate patterns. Halfway down the slope, Jemidon saw tangled masses of steel bars and dented plates. Next to them, still undamaged cages sprawled to the ground. In twos and threes, they formed a line of demarcation that divided the high slope from the plain.
Sweeping to the horizon were the wheatlands of Arcadia, all scoured black and sending wisps of smoke into the air from still smoldering flames. In the near distance, the humps of thatch and precise lines of stone marked the village of Kenton's barony. Approaching the very foot of the slope was a vast army of armored men. Squares of marchers, their mail gleaming brightly in the sunlight, stood ten rows deep. For every four companies on foot, there was a squad of richly decorated cavalry. Even from the distance, Jemidon could hear the nervous whinnies of the horses as they approached. In the very center flew not one royal standard but two. The rebellion had become far too grave for the high prince to handle without the presence of his father.
Behind the front ranks were arrayed rows of catapults and ballistas. Pressed closely together, they looked like the wall of some huge fortress that kept the mountain from creeping further onto the plain. In contrast to the slow and stately march toward the slope, Jemidon saw robes of black busily flitting among the throwing machines, adjusting their tensions and making ready the arsenals of stone arrayed by each.
The first contingents of the army were already climbing the slope, breaking precise formations and picking their way among the loose jumble of rock that littered the surface. Jemidon looked again at the thaumaturges, who were preparing their weapons, and then back at the rock-strewn slope. 'You must convince them to use the engines without any magical aid,' he said to Burdon. 'Otherwise, it will only make it easier for Melizar to break the coupling.'
''But without the aid of thaumaturgy, they project no more than blind missiles, hardly worth the effort to have dragged them across the plain.'
'Nevertheless, you must do as I say,' Jemidon snapped. The sense of urgency within him began to boil. He had little patience for delay. He looked at the slope and then at the army slowly making its way uphill. 'Come along,' he decided suddenly. 'Throw off your cloak so that they will not know you are a lord. We must reach them before they come any closer.'
Without waiting for an answer, Jemidon broke for the edge of the cliff and began to scramble to the one below. 'But our plan,' Delia shouted as Burdon started to follow. 'We were to wait until the first skirmishes had started, so there would be a better chance to pass unnoticed. You will arouse Melizar, What about Drandor?'
'Not now, Delia,' Jemidon shouted back as he bumped into the rearmost row of peasants watching the royal advance. 'There is not time for debate.' He turned the man in front aside and worked his way forward, barely offering apologies to those he pushed away. Burdon followed immediately after. Delia hesitated a moment more, then scrambled to catch up before she was permanently cut off. In a moment, they were in the front line.
Jemidon did not pause. He vaulted the edge and plunged down the mountainside, raising a billow of dust. Delia called out, and he reached back to grab her wrist, pulling her after. Burdon, puffing from the effort to push through the throng, awkwardly clambered over the edge into the cloud that marked Jemidon's path.
Down the slope Jemidon dodged, dislodging small streams of pebbles that cascaded in front and bounced off the larger boulders in the way. Barely in control of his motion, he careened between two rocks and then cut sharply to avoid another directly ahead. Delia stumbled and tripped. For a moment, only Jemidon's grip kept her from tumbling to the ground.
A small stone whizzed past Jemidon's ear, and then a shower somewhat farther away. The throng on the ledge was not sure who the runners on the slope were, but the targets were much closer than the ones at the base of the cliff.
'Why so fast?' Delia managed to pant. 'Their aim is not all that good, and none come in pursuit. We can reach the royal army without the haste.'
'They are almost all on the slope.' Jemidon pointed ahead. 'I think that Melizar will not wait much longer. We have to convince them to turn back before the cold one acts.'
Almost in answer, Jemidon felt a sudden rumble in the ground. He missed his step and skidded to his knees. A large rock on his right began to pitch back and forth in its shallow depression. The shower of pebbles from Jemidon's feet was joined by additional rivulets across the entire face of the cliff. A stone the size of a child's head skittered down to follow.
Bigger rocks began to move, crashing into those in front and dislodging them from their rest. Two large boulders rumbled from their moorings on the left and plowed smaller debris down the cliff to augment the
