with his own ass in a sling.
Even better, maybe the only way he can pry it out is to have us do
it for him.”
I asked Goblin, “What’s One-Eye up to?”
One-Eye looked like he was praying over one of the ballistas with
Loftus. Rags lay scattered around their feet. A gruesome black
spear lay in the engine’s trough.
“I don’t know.”
I checked the nearest gate. The Nar there could see us. Mogaba
would know I was lying if I claimed we were too beat up to send
help. I asked, “Anybody think of a reason we should help
Mogaba?” To hold my sector, besides the Old Crew itself, I
had six hundred Taglian survivors from Lady’s division and an
uncertain and changeable number of liberated slaves, former
prisoners of war and ambitious Jaicuri.
Everyone replied in the negative. Nobody wanted to help Mogaba.
As I approached the engines I asked, “How about if we do it
just to save our own butts? If we let Mogaba get stomped we could
end up facing the rest of the Shadowlander mob by ourselves.”
I glanced at the gate. “And those people over there can see
everything we do.”
Goblin looked, too. He shook his head to lessen the beer buzz.
“We’ll have to think about that.”
“What are you doing, One-Eye?” I was beside him now.
One-Eye indicated the spear proudly. “Little something
I’ve been working on in my spare time.”
“It’s ugly enough.” Nice to know he could do
something useful without being told.
He had begun with a black wooden pole and had worked it for a
lot of hours. It was covered with incredibly ugly miniature scenes
along with writing in an unfamiliar alphabet. Its head was as black
as its shaft, darkened iron finely traced with silver runes. There
was some color on the shaft, too, although so fine as to be almost
invisible. “Very nice.”
“Nice? Sigh. You heathen.” He pointed. Loftus
looked. So did I.
Shadowspinner’s party, sadly depleted, surrounded by
swarms of pink sparkles and mocking crows, was getting close.
One-Eye snickered. “This here is my Shadowmaster blaster,
bastar’!” He howled. He must have put away a lot of
that beer. “Nothing he couldn’t stop on a lazy
afternoon, but this ain’t no lazy afternoon, is it? Loftus
shoots, this stick won’t be in the air five seconds.
That’s all the time he’ll have to figure out
what’s coming and what to do to unravel the spells that are
there to keep him from turning it. And look how busy that asshole
is already. Loftus, my man, get ready to carve you a big victory
notch on this thing.”
As anybody with any sense does, Loftus ignored One-Eye. He laid
his weapon with an artist’s care.
One-Eye babbled, “Most of the spells are designed to
penetrate his personal protection, counting on him not having time
to do anything actively. Because I wanted to concentrate on
piercing one point in a
passive . . . ”
I shut him out. “Goblin. Any chance this will work? The
runt’s not exactly a heavyweight.”
“It’s workable, tactically. If he really worked that
hard on it. Say One-Eye is an order of magnitude weaker than
Shadowspinner. That really only means that it takes him ten times
as long to get the same work done.”
“An order of magnitude?” So that was One-Eye’s
problem.
“More like two orders really, probably.”
He lost me. And I didn’t have time to wring an explanation
out of him.
Loftus was satisfied he was leading his target perfectly, he had
the range, whatever. “Time,” he said.
----
----
28
“Loose,” I suggested. The ballista offered its distinctive
thump. Silence spread along the wall. The black shaft darted across
the night. The occasional spark floated behind it. One-Eye said
five seconds of flight. The truth was more like four but they took
forever.
There was ample firelight to illuminate the Shadowmaster.
Shortly he would disappear behind one of the enfilading towers. He
stared back at the hills as he rode. Those bizarre riders out there
were on the plain now,
Even better, maybe the only way he can pry it out is to have us do
it for him.”
I asked Goblin, “What’s One-Eye up to?”
One-Eye looked like he was praying over one of the ballistas with
Loftus. Rags lay scattered around their feet. A gruesome black
spear lay in the engine’s trough.
“I don’t know.”
I checked the nearest gate. The Nar there could see us. Mogaba
would know I was lying if I claimed we were too beat up to send
help. I asked, “Anybody think of a reason we should help
Mogaba?” To hold my sector, besides the Old Crew itself, I
had six hundred Taglian survivors from Lady’s division and an
uncertain and changeable number of liberated slaves, former
prisoners of war and ambitious Jaicuri.
Everyone replied in the negative. Nobody wanted to help Mogaba.
As I approached the engines I asked, “How about if we do it
just to save our own butts? If we let Mogaba get stomped we could
end up facing the rest of the Shadowlander mob by ourselves.”
I glanced at the gate. “And those people over there can see
everything we do.”
Goblin looked, too. He shook his head to lessen the beer buzz.
“We’ll have to think about that.”
“What are you doing, One-Eye?” I was beside him now.
One-Eye indicated the spear proudly. “Little something
I’ve been working on in my spare time.”
“It’s ugly enough.” Nice to know he could do
something useful without being told.
He had begun with a black wooden pole and had worked it for a
lot of hours. It was covered with incredibly ugly miniature scenes
along with writing in an unfamiliar alphabet. Its head was as black
as its shaft, darkened iron finely traced with silver runes. There
was some color on the shaft, too, although so fine as to be almost
invisible. “Very nice.”
“Nice? Sigh. You heathen.” He pointed. Loftus
looked. So did I.
Shadowspinner’s party, sadly depleted, surrounded by
swarms of pink sparkles and mocking crows, was getting close.
One-Eye snickered. “This here is my Shadowmaster blaster,
bastar’!” He howled. He must have put away a lot of
that beer. “Nothing he couldn’t stop on a lazy
afternoon, but this ain’t no lazy afternoon, is it? Loftus
shoots, this stick won’t be in the air five seconds.
That’s all the time he’ll have to figure out
what’s coming and what to do to unravel the spells that are
there to keep him from turning it. And look how busy that asshole
is already. Loftus, my man, get ready to carve you a big victory
notch on this thing.”
As anybody with any sense does, Loftus ignored One-Eye. He laid
his weapon with an artist’s care.
One-Eye babbled, “Most of the spells are designed to
penetrate his personal protection, counting on him not having time
to do anything actively. Because I wanted to concentrate on
piercing one point in a
passive . . . ”
I shut him out. “Goblin. Any chance this will work? The
runt’s not exactly a heavyweight.”
“It’s workable, tactically. If he really worked that
hard on it. Say One-Eye is an order of magnitude weaker than
Shadowspinner. That really only means that it takes him ten times
as long to get the same work done.”
“An order of magnitude?” So that was One-Eye’s
problem.
“More like two orders really, probably.”
He lost me. And I didn’t have time to wring an explanation
out of him.
Loftus was satisfied he was leading his target perfectly, he had
the range, whatever. “Time,” he said.
----
----
28
“Loose,” I suggested. The ballista offered its distinctive
thump. Silence spread along the wall. The black shaft darted across
the night. The occasional spark floated behind it. One-Eye said
five seconds of flight. The truth was more like four but they took
forever.
There was ample firelight to illuminate the Shadowmaster.
Shortly he would disappear behind one of the enfilading towers. He
stared back at the hills as he rode. Those bizarre riders out there
were on the plain now,
Similar Books
