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city?"
Naral sighed.
"I have my orders," he said. "Now, will you come peacefully?"
"I won't come at all," Faran said. He straightened up and stepped back, inside the threshold.
He couldn't close the door; Manrin was in the way, standing with his back to the door handle. The wizard had
been staring out at the soldiers and took a moment to realize that Faran was glaring at him, and another
moment to realize why. He said, "Oh," then started to move aside.
By then it was too late-Naral was leading a charge, the entire score of guardsmen rushing toward the gate,
yelling at the top of their lungs. The watching crowd was enthusiastically cheering them on.
Faran and Manrin were distracted, Hanner had no idea what to do, but it didn't matter. Rudhira waved a hand,
and the soldiers were swept off their feet, tumbling backward as if a huge wave had struck them head-on,
spears and swords clattering as they fell to the ground.
The yelling stopped abruptly, the cheering crowd fell suddenly silent, and for a moment the rattle and
thudding of the soldiers, their weapons, and their armor hitting the ground were clearly audible.
Then the street was completely still for several seconds, the only sound the distant buzz of the rest of the
city going about its business.
Faran and Manrin and Hanner stared out at the sprawled guardsmen; some of the soldiers tentatively moved
to sit up while others lay still, fearing that any motion might provoke another attack.
"Go away!" Rudhira shouted over the heads of the three men, her voice seeming impossibly loud to Hanner.
"We're magicians, and we demand the respect due to magicians! You can't just run in here with your swords
and spears as if we were a bunch of drunken rowdies smashing up a tavern!"
Hanner smothered a sudden urge to laugh hysterically. He was quite sure that Rudhira was not speaking
theoretically, that she had seen guardsmen deal with rowdies smashing up taverns at least once before.
Captain Naral got carefully to his feet, brushed himself off, picked up his sword, brushed that off, then turned
and looked over his men. Most of them were sitting up now; a few had even retrieved weapons.
He turned back toward the doorway.
"Lord Faran," he said.
"Captain Naral," Faran acknowledged.
"It appears you intend to defy the overlord's orders, and that we can't stop you."
"Captain, we could kill the lot of you quite easily. Please don't force us to demonstrate."
Naral turned up a palm. "I won't," he said. "But I will have to report back to Lord Azrad, and he may try
something more drastic next time."
"I would be happy to negotiate with the overlord's representative; I understand that there are serious matters
at stake here, and I'm eager for a peaceful resolution."
"Of course." Naral hesitated, then added, "Leaving the city would be peaceful."
"I'm afraid I'm not eager for that particular peaceful resolution," Faran said. "I hope we can find another."
"I hope so, my lord," Naral said. Then he turned and bellowed at his men, "All right, you, up on your feet!
Let's see some order here!"
Hanner watched silently at Faran's side as the soldiers got upright and organized, and started to march off,
with Naral at the rear.
"Wait a minute!" the persistent old man in the street shouted. He no longer looked satisfied; he looked
distraught. "You can't give up! Get them! Arrest them! My son disappeared two nights ago, and they're
responsible!"
"We are not" Hanner shouted back.
Captain Naral pointedly ignored the exchange as he and his men marched away.
Hanner watched them go and kept an eye on the civilians in the street as well as the departing guardsmen;
the expressions he saw there were mostly sullen and angry, though that one man appeared truly outraged.
The warlocks had driven off the overlord's men and avoided exile for the moment, but it was plain to Hanner
that they hadn't made any friends.
"Thank you, Rudhira," Faran said as he gently pushed Hanner aside and finally managed to close the door.
"That was well timed and neatly done."
Rudhira smiled and curtsied-a flouncing little-girl curtsy, not the subtler, more graceful dip of a noblewoman. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]