The mage’s statement didn’t mean anything to Keeli, but the birds knew whereof he spoke.

“The old magic?” Swallow asked from The Tairn’s lap. “How can that be? The old magic no longer exists.”

“Swallow, my dear,” the mage shook his head slowly, struggling to gather his wits about him, reaching for a mug to sooth his parched throat. “You are a creature of magic itself; I am a creature of common clay who has made magic his life.

“What you take for granted, I have had to learn through painstaking and sometimes dangerous study. My apprenticeship alone covered the span of ten years. I did not achieve journeyman status in less than twenty, and I am reckoned quick by all standards. I daresay I know more of the structure of magic than any of you here. When I say that I saw the old magic, you may surely believe it so.”

“Then these scientists have turned the old magic into technology?” Thrush demanded.

Belius was pouring another mug of beer for himself as the weight of his efforts made itself known to his body. He swallowed half the mug before answering. “No, Thrush,” he corrected. The technology is a parlor trick. Any apprentice with a couple of years of time to waste could recreate what I saw. No, ‘tis The Tairn himself reeks of the old magic. It swims in him like a reef of pickerel in a small pond.”

The subject of their discussion, meanwhile, was growing weary of being spoken of in the third person. Even his coffee buzz was departing, leaving him with the weariness and pain of the previous evening’s encounters and the terrible knowledge that he had somehow acquired magical powers he could not control. Various portions of his anatomy, in addition, were itching feverishly, leading him to believe that he and the little birds had not been alone in their bed the previous evening.

“How can I have magic?” he forced calm into his voice. “Where I come from, it doesn’t even exist.”

Belius’ head gave a rapid, negative jerk. “You are mistaken, Tairn, as, apparently, were we. It was supposed to have been totally extinguished in the final battles with the others and the closing of the portals, but it would appear that it survived. Or at least some of it did. It permeates you. Shouldn’t be surprised, I suppose,” he shook his head. “The old magic is a thing of the first world, after all, as intrinsic to the structure of the first world as the air or the water or the minerals beneath the ground. What magic would you have if not that? What confuses me is how you were able to accomplish your training without realizing it. Did you—?”

“Belius?” Thrush interrupted.

“Eh? Huh?” The mage stumbled over his rushing thoughts. “No, it’s obvious he’s had training, Thrush Dancing. You should see the way he’s banked the glow. I had to touch it before–!”

“Is this the time to be discussing such?”

“It’s something I’d like cleared up,” Storm said.

She turned back to him. “As it will be, my love. I merely suggest that the mysteries of life are more suitable to relaxed discussion without the need for haste pressing so heavily upon our backs.”

Belius sighed. Mad as he was to learn the particulars of this new mystery, he was forced to admit, “she is correct, of course. The hows and whys of your power are of less import than its existence.”

“And what does its existence signify?”

Belius sighed. “In the long run, who’s to say? Not a humble journeyman, certainly. In the short run? As I’ve shown with the sphere, magic use can be detected. From quite a distance, actually, depending upon the strength and type of detection device used and the skill of the user. Of course, the distance mutes the signature noticeably. My spell, for instance, might be recognized as both a healing spell and one of mine to one who knows me and is within a few stad with the proper sphere. Farther away, it might be seen to be either, but not usually both– again, depending on the user’s skill. Further still, and it is only detectable as a reasonably powerful spell of the lighter sort– not a killing spell, for ins–”

“Belius!” Thrush broke in, exasperated.

Catching on, Storm tried a shortcut. “Without building a watch, just tell me the time, okay?”

Belius looked blank

“How far would that be?”

Another shrug. “Hundred stad, possibly one hundred-fifty if the watcher were truly talented.”

“Okay,” Storm paused. “What’s a stad?”

“What’s a—” Belius sputtered before remembering to whom he was speaking. “Ahm, I believe that this station lies approximately one hundred stad from the king’s highway.”

“‘oondred-six, according to the royal surveyors.” The potato-nosed trooper volunteered.

Both men at the table gave him their attention. He flinched, but only a bit.

“What’s your name, trooper?” Storm asked finally.

The trooper drew back a bit more. Three long years under Beltran had given him a healthy fear of officers that his time with The Tairn had only begun to mute. It was back full force now. “Er, th’lads calls me Burly, sor,” he mumbled. “As it please yer grace.”

“Speak up, man,” Storm insisted. “I’m not about to issue lashes to a man who’s willing to speak up when he knows something important.”

“Huh? Ah, Burly, sor, is what th’ lads calls me.”

“Burly. A hundred and six, you say?”

“Aye, Sor. Oondred-six and a bit.”

Okay. Two days covering some pretty rough country devoid of trails. More progress the first day than the second. Doing the math in his head, Storm came up with around two kilometers and change to a stad– maybe a mile and a third old standard.

“Do you think,” he addressed Belius again. “That what either of us has done could be detected as far away as your old garrison?”

Belius shook his head. “Were there a mage in residence–”

“You’ve been gone several months– er, turns, and under strange circumstances, from what you told me in WoodHeart,” Storm reminded him. “If you were the king, or the royal governor, or whoever decides such things, wouldn’t you have put a new mage in place by now?”

“Hmm? Oh, of course, of course. To answer your question, even with a competent mage and a rather larger sphere than that with which the garrison was equipped when I left, any trace of the healing magicks with which I’m treating friend Luka would be drowned in the backwash of the faerie wood. Your magic, however, is blood in a clear stream.”

“I don’t follow.”

“I mean that only you in all of the second world possess the old magic. At least so far as I know.”

“So anytime any of that is used,” Storm finished for him, “anybody catching even a glimpse will know it’s me.”

“Assuming anyone is watching who knows what it is he’s seeing,” Belius nodded. “Exactly.”

“Can it be traced back?”

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

“Eh?”

Storm leaned forward, causing Swallow to shift her seat to a knee. “If somebody spots some of this stuff in a sphere somewhere far off, can they backtrack it to me?”

“Oh. I see. It would depend on the spell,” the mage stroked his beard. “Magic dissipates quickly—”

Thrush cleared her throat, stopping the mage mid-sentence. With the shortest of glares, she turned to Storm. “What Belius the long winded is attempting to convey, my love, is that the trace may only be followed so long as you maintain the spell. T’would not be easy to follow your magical scent back to you unless the searcher were very close to begin.”

Keeli, finished with her breakfast, quit her seat to return to her light enshrouded corporal, leaving the deep subjects to the others.

“So what’s the problem?” Storm inquired of the mage.

“The problem,” Belius cast a sideways glance at Thrush, daring her to interrupt. “Is that there are more than one mage and more than one sphere available to the king, if the king is your enemy as your little birds insist.”

“Triangulation.”

“Eh? Ah! Yes, triangulation. That would be a good word for it.”

“How well has this king got the world mapped?”

“Mapped?”

“Has he got a bunch of guys somewhere with a model of the world, sticking pins here and there while they try to figure out where I am?”

“Ah. I suppose it’s possible. It would all depend on how badly he wants you, I imagine. It’s all moot in any case, since he already knows where you are. If we are to judge by last evening at any rate.”

“How long before the corporal is ready to travel, d’you think?” Storm changed subjects.

“The corporal?” Belius was off balance. “I’ve already told you, we could move him this afternoon were we forced to.”

“That wasn’t the question.”

The mage was puzzled. “Certainly longer than we have time for,” he insisted. “We’ll be gone before the sun is well past zenith if we know what’s good for us.”

Storm shook his head slowly, voice growing firm. “Just answer the question, Belius. How long before the boy can mount his horse and travel alongside without a nurse?”

“A full turn, at least,” Belius replied evenly, eyes going hard at the path his thoughts were taking.

As if to verify the old mage’s fears, Storm leaned back again and asked: “how safe would he be here, d’you think, if I were to take off in pretty much any direction and use this magic of mine to draw pursuit away?”

“No!” Belius’ voice rose. “You will not go out alone! The oldest would not have sworn us to your service were we not needed.”

Storm put up a forestalling hand. “Don’t have an apoplexy, Belius.” he soothed. “Answer me a question instead. Does the boy stand any chance at all if we leave him alone?”

No thought was required for the answer. “He’d die within the day were I to withdraw the spell.”

“I kind of thought so. Now, how much of a chance has he got if we load him on a horse and take off across the plain or through the forest?”

A shrug. “Not great, I’m afraid,” the old mage admitted. The jolting and such.... difficult to shield him through that.”

A nod. “And finally, how many more assaults like last night would we survive?”

That was the trump card, and the old wizard had to acknowledge it. There really was only the one choice if they were to save the corporal. No doubt it was a foolish consideration considering the importance of the quest, and not a single officer in the king’s army above junior rank would have given it even passing thought. But they were no longer in the king’s army, and this Tairn was a different sort of beast than the old mage had encountered before.

“What have you blowing across that deranged maelstrom you refer to as a mind?”

Swallow was quivering in his lap, and Storm hugged her close, resting his chin on her head, sharing a look with a worried Thrush Dancing. “You heard the oldest in WoodHeart, didn’t you? I’m supposed to find an artifact.”

“Aye,” the mage lowered his chin and regarded The Tairn past bushy brows. “From the clan chief of the stone sky people of Phenos Sirvil.”

“Well?”

“Think you to go to Phenos Sirvil alone?” that was Thrush, and she was all but happy. “Phenos Sirvil where dwell the most dark of the mountain children? In the heart of the lands of the mountain children, where no man child has ever ventured and lived for the tale?”

Swallow was shivering wildly now, near breaking from his grasp. She had yet to speak aloud on the subject, but she didn’t really need to. He could hear the words in his mind: they’ll cut your head from your body just to see how the mask works.

He hugged her tighter and sighed, addressing Thrush. “Who shall I take, then, my love? Belius has to stay here to keep the magic going. I couldn’t blast Keeli out of that room with a siege mortar — not while Luka is still out.”

“Which leaves me,” the voice spoke from nearly behind his head.

Storm started so that he nearly dropped the shivering sylvan. He turned around to regard the surly trader, standing almost at his elbow. Even in human form, Koli was some punkins on the sneak. “To tell the truth, I wasn’t willing to bet you’d leave your daughter behind.”

“Not easily, and that’s a fact. But there are obligations to consider. Deals have been struck.”

Hah. A were and a warrior he might be, even a doting father. But at his core, Koli was ever a trader. Deals were sacred.

“We will go?” Swallow’s voice shook.

Storm breathed deep, and both sylvans felt the pain in his chest as he pronounced the next. “No. I need you here to keep the whole mess together while I’m gone. Belius will be far too busy to worry about things like provisions or guard mounts, and the soldiers don’t know enough about the other races to deal with them. It has to be you. The troopers know that you speak with my voice and will obey. Right Burly?”

“Huh?” the trooper jerked upright as though electro-shocked. “What? Er, o’course, Sor, o’course. Th’ lads’ll no doubt listen ter th’ lasses as ter orders from yer own lips, Sor.”

“Good,” Storm’s eyes never left Thrush Dancing’s. “I’ll hold you to that corporal.”

“Beggin’ yer pardon, Sor—” the horrified trooper tried.

“You are now, Burly,” Storm overrode him. “The lads are your responsibility until Corporal Luka’s up and around.”

Corporal Burly subsided, cursing the day his mum ever whelped such a loose tongued dunderhead as himself. Just what he needed in a life already more than a body should have to put up with— more responsibility! Again!

“Is this wise, Tairn?” Koli’s voice was clipped.

Storm turned his head to meet the trader’s gaze. “You needn’t come along if it’s too big a boo.”

Koli chopped a hand horizontally across his middle. “Do not insult me. I know not what a boo is, but I’ve already made it clear that I will observe my obligations. My thought is not for my own survival, but for the success of the journey. Little profit to perish on an already doomed venture.”

“Fair enough,” Storm acknowledged. “To answer the question honestly, wise or not, it’s the only option we have.”

“Not strictly true, Tairn,” the wolf corrected. We can keep the king’s men busy haring about the plains until the... boy... is well enough to rejoin the party. Far safer than journeying into the demesnes of the mountain children uninvited.”

“Already thought of that,” the man shook his head. “Running around in circles —even big circles— allows them to tighten the net. What good is it to have the entire army already on our heads when we regroup? If, on the other hand, they follow us into lands no man child has ever returned from —in force— perhaps the mountain children will do some of our work for us.”

“Ah yes,” Koli growled. “I’m sure the mountain children will be grateful to you for drawing the king’s men into their homelands in force.”

“I’m thinking that, if I have this king of yours pegged right, we won’t be leading them anywhere they weren’t already going. His co-opting the ogres already pretty much illustrates his designs on the elder peoples. We’ll only be moving the schedule up some, and perhaps pulling them in before they’re ready. In any case, do you have a better solution?”

Koli sighed softly. “Alas, I do not. I’ll get the horses.”

Storm turned to Belius as the trader headed for the door. “Can you gin me up something on the quick that’ll leave a vector they can track?”

“Hmm?” Belius tried to wade through The Tairn’s words with little success. “Blast it man, would you cease with the jargon and ask a man a clear question?”

“Teach me a magic trick or something. How can I draw them away if I can’t send them a signal?”

Belius’ eyes widened, his face going red. “A magic... trick?” he spluttered. “Magic, Tairn, is not made up of tricks!”

“Belius!” Thrush scolded. Then she turned to her husband. “Magic is dangerous to those unfamiliar, my love. Even the simplest spell must be carefully crafted lest unforseen and unwanted results accrue. Note Great Belius’ hands as example. Without one of his long-winded lectures, it just isn’t feasible to teach you something new while Koli fetches the runners.”

“So how do I draw them off?”

She smiled a smile he hadn’t seen before, tasting of blood and violence. “Tell Koli what you need. There are opportunities aplenty upon the plain for you to use the spells you already know.”

He kept himself from flinching away from this new side of the sylvan who owned his heart, but not by much. “You want me to bring you back some ears?” half mocking.

Her eyes flashed bright before she realized his intent and went to stone. “If that is your custom,” she returned, tone flat. Then she stood and turned her back on him, striding purposefully toward the stairs and their room.

Swallow smacked the flat of a palm against his naked chest, leaving a red print. Then she followed her sister.

“Beggin’ yer pardon, sor,” the new corporal ventured from his table. “Though it’s been a bit since me dear woif chased me outer va hoose wif a iron skillet, and she weren’t na sylvern wenchie nohow, I’d say me ye might consider mendin’ a fence ‘r twa afore ye goes galavantin’ aboot wif th’mountain children, I does.”

Storm turned his gaze upon the corporal. “And what business might it be of yours, corporal, how I get along with the sylvans?”

The big man’s head ducked, and he swirled his mug around on the table as he answered without meeting the sapphire eye or the blue. “Beggin’ yer pardon, Sor,” he pressed on. “But wasn’t it you as tasked meself wi’ takin’ care o’th’lads? An’ did yer leave wi’ the sylverns in such a state, ‘ow thinks yer grace it’ll go wi’ us a’ter yer gone?”

“He’s–”

Storm flashed a look that stopped Belius mid-word. He took a last, deliberate draught of his khoof and pushed away from the table, heading stiff-backed for the stairs, skin crawling from the eyes upon it.