8
INFORMATION
The bisonbeck rolled toward Kale, and she thrust her hand in front of her. Now the outside of his wrappings stuck to the floor. He narrowed his eyes at her and growled.
“Tsk, tsk.” Regidor waggled a claw-tipped finger at the soldier. “Not smart. Not smart at all.”
Bardon cocked his head to one side and pointed at the angry prisoner. “You don’t seem to understand. Lady Kale and Sir Regidor are two of the most powerful wizards in the land.”
The bisonbeck’s eyes widened a bit at this news, but still, he kept his teeth clenched.
Bardon motioned toward Regidor. “We don’t need to ask you politely to tell us what you know. We don’t have to wait until you make up your mind to cooperate. Sir Regidor can enter your mind quite easily.”
The meech dragon grinned, and the sight of his gleaming white teeth inspired a slight shudder from the soldier.
“Unfair!” Regidor presented the knight with a fierce scowl and stepped closer to the imprisoned bisonbeck. “You mislead the man, Bardon.”
“How is that?”
“True, it is easy for me to gain access. But for the poor person whose mind I explore, it’s not comfortable.” He arranged his features in a look of mock sympathy and bestowed it on his intended victim. Then his expression cleared and he spoke to Bardon. “Perhaps you should let Kale do the honors. She is less experienced than I am, but she might proceed in a gentler manner. I would find ‘gentle’ exasperating. I imagine Kale does exceptionally well with ‘gentle.’”
“Sorry to disillusion you,” Kale piped up. “I never got that explore thing down. I seem to bump into bits and pieces and dislodge them. Nightmares, childhood traumas, scenes of mass destruction.
“My last attempt at extracting information left the man incapacitated. Of course, it was mostly his fault. He struggled so violently that he broke the chain securing him to the wall. He then rushed off madly, found a window, and jumped. He survived the two-story fall but never gave us any information.”
She looked at Bardon as if he had accused her of negligence. “I maintain that the gibberish he spoke afterward was due to the blow to his head, not any terrors that I jogged loose in his memory.”
Gilda stepped around Kale, looking almost immaculate after the repairs she had managed during their walk. Dibl left her shoulder and flew to Granny Noon. He chirred, and the old emerlindian held her hand out for him to land.
“I know,” said the granny. “It’s an unpleasant business, and I, too, would rather have nothing to do with it. But evil men do not understand daggarts and polite conversation.”
“Lady Kale’s lying, you know.” Gilda sashayed to the wrapped man and gazed down at him. An enigmatic smile touched her exotic features. “She’s a good wizard.” The smile broadened. “And compared to me, Regidor is a good wizard. But I was trained by Risto himself.”
The man renewed his struggles. Gilda gestured to Bardon and her husband. “Lift him to his feet. I find it disconcerting to converse with a prone cocoon.”
The men placed the bisonbeck on his feet. With a gesture from Regidor, the wrappings fell away. The warrior tried to bolt but fell again to the ground.
Bardon sighed as he and Regidor lifted him once more to a standing position. “Just because the visible instrument of your entrapment is gone doesn’t mean you are free. I do wish you would remember you are dealing with first-class wizards. Our interrogation would be so much easier for you to endure.”
Regidor and Bardon stood back. Gilda’s husband made a sweeping court bow, indicating she was at liberty to examine the prisoner. Sir Bardon crossed his arms over his chest, leaned against the stone wall, and relaxed with an amused grin upon his face.
The female meech slowly circled the bisonbeck, appraising him from all sides before coming to stand directly before him. Her confident attitude shone in her countenance, inches from his.
“My talent is persuasion,” Gilda cooed.
The soldier made a disparaging remark, cut off by a glance at her face.
Her odd eyes held the imprisoned bisonbeck’s. His expression grew wilder as some force from Gilda penetrated his mind.
In a soft, purring voice, she gave a one-word command. “Speak.”
The soldier’s tongue thrust forward and seemed to stick to the roof of his mouth. He made a few unintelligible noises until Gilda’s lip curled in a sneer, and she repeated her command.
“Speak.”
He opened his mouth, and his tongue twisted to and fro, but still no one could comprehend his utterances. Filia trilled. Then Metta and Gymn flew to sit on his head. Gymn wrinkled his nose but stretched out on the unkempt warrior’s hair. Metta began to sing.
“Ah,” said Kale just as Regidor said, “I see.”
“What?” demanded Gilda.
Kale answered. “Gymn and Metta have initiated a healing. The poor soldier has been given a ‘suggestion’ by his commander. His commander is Burner Stox.”
At the mention of the wizard’s name, the bisonbeck fell forward and writhed on the ground. Gymn and Metta fluttered in the air for a moment and then came to roost on Kale. The minor dragons huddled close to her cheeks, and Gymn rubbed his chin against her face.
“A very ugly sickness, indeed.” She stroked Gymn’s wing. “Implanted by evil, the malady will be hard to dislodge.”
“Well,” said Gilda, kneeling beside the man, “I’m rather good at suggestions myself.”
She clasped the soldier’s head between her two strong, slender hands and forced him to gaze into her eyes. His struggling ceased.
“You are no longer under Stox’s authority. You are mine. I command you. The thought of answering to Stox sickens you. I free you from her and offer you a place of honor among my followers. You accept with pride.”
The soldier’s expression relaxed, and he nodded. “As you say, Mistress.”
“How were you able to use the shield?”
“Burner Stox, that foul and evil wizard, has selected a few of her best warriors and endowed them with special abilities. Crim Cropper—”
His speech broke off, and he resumed the fierce shaking and moaning.
Gilda grabbed the hair on his chin and brought his head around. “You are no longer under the authority of Crim Cropper. You are mine!”
Again, the soldier calmed.
“Now tell me Crim Cropper’s part in this.”
The bisonbeck gulped, his eyes bulged, and his body trembled, betraying the depth of his subordination to the husband of Burner Stox.
Gilda snarled. “Mine! You no longer fear Stox or Cropper. Your allegiance is to me.”
He nodded.
“I’m waiting,” Gilda reminded him.
“Crim Cropper.” He licked his lips. “Cropper, that foul and evil wizard, used potions to enhance our memories. Stox recited the words that would conjure the images she implanted in our thoughts. The shields hide us from the enemy.” He stopped, and a confused expression crumpled his features.
“Cropper and Stox are your enemies.” Gilda sighed her exasperation. “I am your commander.”
His brow smoothed. “The enemy cannot detect the shields with mind, eye, or touch.”
Gilda glanced at Regidor, who winked at her. “In theory, but not in fact. I could even smell the bisonbeck supposedly hidden in the box.”
Kale nodded. “Using Granny Noon’s advice, I easily found the shield.”
Granny Noon shifted so she could get a better look at the prisoner. “Is he saying that Stox and Cropper have been able to give their warriors a shield, much like Fenworth once gave Dar the shell he uses in battle?”
“Yes,” said Bardon, “only it doesn’t seem to be very effective.”
“That will make Burner Stox unpleasantly irritable.” Kale summoned the rest of her minor dragons. They settled on her, decorating the moonbeam cape like large, colorful jewels.
Granny Noon crooked her arm through Kale’s. “I have something to say to you, my dear.”
“Uh-oh.” Regidor snickered.
The emerlindian raised her eyebrows at him. “Don’t pretend you haven’t had your share of lectures, young man.”
The chagrined look on Regidor’s face surprised Kale and almost made her giggle.
“Yes ma’am,” he said. “We’ll just ask this prisoner a few more questions while we wait for you to have your little talk with Kale.”
His eyes shifted to Kale’s. “You’re going to wish you were being interrogated by us rather than being exhorted by our Granny Noon.”
Don’t be ridiculous. I haven’t done anything, have I?
Granny Noon patted Kale’s arm and tugged her away from the others.
“I’m in trouble?” asked the o’rant wizard.
“I want to caution you against using falsehoods. First, you are not very believable. Second, your talents are eroded by deception.”
“You didn’t like the story about my causing a man pain by messing up his mind.”
“No, I did not.” Granny sat on a boulder. “But let me ask you something more important.”
Kale waited.
“Do you like that image of yourself? Does using your power in that manner appeal to you?”
Kale held her breath as she contemplated the question. The feeling of power did hold some allure.
Granny clucked her tongue. “Don’t you find that odd, Kale? You have been given more talent and power than most of Amara’s citizens, yet you would use this talent to feed a hunger for controlling others. In Wulder’s Tomes, there is a principle about the inward enemy defeating the soul with a surprise attack. Don’t let your own desires cause your fall into disgrace.”
“Yes, Granny Noon. I understand, and I will keep a vigilance against this enemy.”
“You understand this enemy is yourself?”
“I do.”
“Good.”