'I know,' Taeauna said sympathetically, and it sounded to Rod as if she really did.
Deldragon ran a hand through his flowing hair, and then gave Rod an apologetic grin. 'It's a lot of work, preparing for a siege,' he said, 'but you don't want to hear all about that. Nor do I find I want to talk all about that, one more thuttering time.'
He attacked his stag like a starving man, and then looked straight at Rod and asked, 'What do you know about the Dooms?'
Rod was aware of Taeauna's sudden glare at the velduke-she was bristling as if she wanted to draw sword on him-but kept his eyes steady on Deldragon's before replying. 'Not much,' he said. 'That there are three of them, maybe four someday, and that they're powerful wizards, really powerful wizards, who want to rule all Falconfar. Each of them, so they fight each other. And I believe I heard in Arvale that one of them is trying to rule Galath. The Dark Helms serve them, and maybe the lorn.'
Deldragon nodded. 'Three evil wizards at war with each other. Each of them seeks the magic of the past, for sorcery has fallen far in reach and mastery since the days when Lorontar butchered every wizard who wouldn't bow to him. So today the Dooms scramble to gather the most powerful spells and enchanted items from tombs, and the ruined castles of long-fallen kings, and the vaults of Galathan nobles. One of them does rule our king, and through him orders nobles slaughtered or banished, so their magic can be seized. Hence this siege; it comes now because I dared to aid Tindror, but it was coming anyway. Bowrock is awash in magics.'
At that moment, a glow kindled in the air above the table, air that started to sing, high and faint. It grew very quiet around the table as the glow grew, and something small and wraithlike materialized into view on the polished table, right in front of Rod.
Something that became more solid, until all hints of wraith-smoke were gone, and they were all staring at something that looked like a little jewel box, that might comfortably fit in a lady's palm. It had a tail of fine chain, that ended in a finger-ring. The glow and singing sound faded, leaving it gleaming brightly against the dark, smooth wood.
'Don't touch it,' Taeauna snapped at Rod. 'Please.'
She shot a glance at Deldragon, who was staring at the box in mute astonishment. 'I was going to accuse you of producing these enchanted trinkets, as a test to see if my companion here is a wizard.'
He tore his gaze from the jewel box at the word 'accuse' and looked up at her.
The Aumrarr's gaze, on his, was both hard and cool. 'Those curios on the table in our guest chambers were just that, weren't they?'
The velduke blinked, sighed, and nodded. 'Yes. They were put there at my command by hired Stormar wizards; magelings of no great accomplishment, which is the only sort of wizard I can afford. Yet you just said you were going to accuse me this time…but?'
The Aumrarr's gaze softened. 'But 'tis clear you're as surprised as we are. Wherefore this isn't your doing. Someone else has reached into Bowrock with their spells. Someone who knows this man is here.'
'Someone who can reach freely into Bowrock, past the wardings cast by my hired mages,' Deldragon added grimly.
'Or someone who is inside Bowrock, already here in this keep, hidden among your folk,' Taeauna said quietly.
They watched the velduke slowly go white.
'Blow me hard, Isk, if I can think of a good reason for us being allowed inside yon keep,' Garfist growled. 'They're preparing for a glorking siege, aren't they now? What idiocy could induce them to let two outlanders who look like us anywhere near their precious velduke?'
Iskarra pointed one long and bony finger at two wagons being drawn slowly up a distant cobbled slope that led to a gate somewhere on the far side of the keep. 'Food. They'll want wagonloads of food in there. Turnips. Lar-fruit. Bloodbuds. Wheels of cheese from far Zharlay.'
Garfist's gut rumbled like storm-thunder. 'Huh. I wouldn't mind a wagon of cheese from far Zharlay.'
He waved one shovel-sized hand in an expressive gesture of futility, keeping the other wrapped tightly around what was left of the keg of ale. He'd brought it with him out of the tavern despite its sour taste, because, well, it was beer. 'And just where are ye going to get a loaded wagon of plenty from, hmm?'
'Behind the market, of course. They're still arriving now.'
'And the drovers as owns it? They're just going to hand it over to ye, I suppose?'
Iskarra triumphantly bared her breasts and belly, plunged a hand into her navel which split apart vertically, into a wide, bloodless opening, reached up inside herself, behind her bulging breasts, fumbled with something there, and triumphantly drew forth two tankards. Theirs, from the tavern.
Garfist looked incredulous. 'Ye're going to seek someone stupid enough to trade us a loaded wagon-and dray-beasts, mind-for two empty tankards?'
Iskarra rolled her eyes. 'Stick to brawling and spewing and rutting, old Gulkoon, and leave the thinking to me, hmm?'
She nudged one of her breasts with a tankard. 'With these, we distract the men we choose. You smite them to sleep, we leave the tankards in their hands and them propped sitting against a wall, and you half-fill the tankards and drench the rest of them with yon ale, and off we go. Everyone who sees them will think them drunkards. That much is so easy it's barely worth saying aloud. What's got me foxed and witless is what happens after we're inside the gates; what then?'
'Then we help unload, discover our beast-harness is broke, and say we're too tired to deal with it now, we've come all this way, it can wait until morning. Should we sleep in our wagons, is there anywhere around here to shit, and by Galath we're hungry; are there kitchens still open?'
Iskarra smiled crookedly. 'You can still think!'
'O'course, lass! That's how I get all the gels, and their coins, and then peels the one away from the other, remember?'
Iskarra rolled her eyes. 'Peeling gels,' she murmured. 'All you ever think about…' She stowed the tankards away where she'd produced them from, and did up her clothing again, peering pointedly all around. She even looked under her own feet and around behind Garfist.
'What're ye playing at this time?' he growled. 'Ye're being clever again, I know ye are! When ye get that look on yer face…'
'I'm looking for the gels,' she snapped. 'And the coins, too.'
Garfist made a very rude gesture that ended with him noisily licking three adjacent hooked fingers clean.
Iskarra struck a pose, and made her crawlskin fashion lush curves with naughty areas of spectacular size. 'You can do that if you can catch me,' she said, sticking out her tongue at him, 'but it's been years since you've been able to do that.'
'If I was a rutting Doom of Galath,' Garfist said heavily, 'yer ass'd not be laughing so loudly!'
'If you were a rutting Doom of Galath,' Iskarra replied tartly, 'most Falconaar would be dead, and the rest of us'd all be in hiding.'
Garfist grinned. 'That's true. Heh. Let's go get us a wagon.'
He peered again up at the soaring walls of the keep. 'If there's one place in Bowrock that'll have magic, and coins, and gels, lying around for the taking, it's in there. Where the bloody velduke is probably snoring away, reclining on heaps of them right now.'
'Heaps of coins or gels?'
'Both, Isk.' Garfist belched so violently he filled his mouth with searing gulped-once ale, and had to swallow it down again. 'Both!'
Taeauna set her boots ready beside the bed, drew her sword, and got into bed with it. Thankfully, she put it by her sword hand, to the outside, rather than between them.
Which left her free to roll over on her side, head propped on one elbow, and ask Rod, as he struggled to keep his eyes on, her face, 'So. Are you going to show me these magics that have been appearing out of nowhere and dropping into your hands?'
'No,' Rod said shortly. 'Not yet. I don't want to touch them again. Yet.'
'You're scared of them,' the Aumrarr murmured, her gaze sympathetic.
'No, I'm not scared. Okay, yes, I am,' Rod admitted. 'I… that castle. I'm afraid if I do anything with them,
