Chapter 9

Skip is confronted by a Minotaur and realizes his ring of understanding is missing. Swinsult translates the Minotaur's words, revealing that Skip is accused of starting a war. Skip argues back, and the Minotaur laughs. Legs, a witch, interrupts and claims ownership of Skip's ring. Skip tries to persuade her to give it back. Meanwhile, the group is in the kingdom of Embrace, and a peasant offers information on the storehouses. Nor Dianna chastises Skip for endangering the group. Noah emphasizes the importance of saving a worthy world. Suddenly, birds fly towards them, and Noah warns that the wizards from Vambrace will attack them. CHAPTER IX The heavy tread of a minotaur sounded behind Skip. Even if he hadn't heard the bovine snort that invariably followed the lumber of the half-bull, half-man creatures out of his freshman mythology text, he would have recognized the smell—musk, sweat, old grass. Skip turned around and did his best to mask his apprehension. He hadn't quite gotten to the point where he felt comfortable around the mythical creatures. A-ra-roo, a-ra-roo, it said, or something like that. How the hell should he know? Why wasn't his ring working? That was when he realized it was no longer on his finger. He says you are a madman, Swinsult said. His eyes were sharp and, as usual, pointing in two different directions. Every few seconds Swinsult sniffed the air, not like he had allergies, but as if he were looking for the smell of something burning. For what? Standing up to a bully? He was about to murder somebody in front of all of us? And how come I can't understand him because I can understand you? Because I'm wearing my own ring, Scrip. The Minotaur said something else incomprehensible. Where the hell was his ring? He looked around, quickly at his feet and the ground between them. No, Swinsult translated, for starting a war with the kingdom of Brace and endangering all of our lives. This was the part when Scrip normally stuck his finger in a face and told him how it was. In this instance, however, he decided on a different path. First of all, the Minotaur was enormous. Not quite as tall as Tarsidian, but damn close, thicker, like a professional wrestler. If you'd think those sons of bitches were going to give us a free pass once they used us to fight against the Drin, a fight in which we'd probably all die in anyway, you're not as bright as you look. Swinsult stared at Scrip a good moment. Or something like that. Just let him know in a nice way. I don't feel like getting shish kebab today. In the beginning, Dwinsult had had a real problem understanding Scrip's parlance, even with a ring of understanding. American expressions and idioms just didn't translate well, and Scrip was chock full of them. But Swinsult was getting better. After only a couple of seconds of internal deliberations, Dwinsult translated Scrip's answer. The two Minotaurs tromped over. In fact, he noticed almost the whole company had edged their way to hear the discourse. Scrip was kind of glad Gavin was standing right there. And where the hell was that ring? Clearly he'd already begun to take it for granted. For several long moments, there was only the silence of a dead battlefield, distant birds, and the occasional sniffling from Dwinsult. Then the Minotaur's bovine face cracked into a hideous smile. Something, something, something, something, he said, and then began a sound that Scrip hoped was a laugh and not a Minotaur battle cry. Scrip was sure to keep his eyes glued to the handle of the monstrous warhammer jutting out from behind him, but fortunately, it wasn't necessary. He's laughing, Dwinsult said, and what did you do with the ring I gave you? You think such powerful magic blooms from potato leaves? Hey, you want to help me find it, feel free. I'm not laughing, came another voice. It was a voice he didn't hear that often. Legs, the brown haired woman in white robes known to the other magic users as the Witch. As a detective, Scrip had become quite adroit at remembering names, but he had to at least be able to pronounce the things. Hers was one of the stranger ones he'd heard. Hanani, maybe, or Jehanavia, or something weird. Better known to Scrip as Legs. She wasn't pretty, but was attractive. Feminine, but plain. Fair skin, slender waist, but it was those legs, geez. Tried not to stare at them, flashing through the slit of her robes the whole trek from New Rome and failed. And then tried not to get caught staring them, and it failed at that too. She already didn't like them. Scrip had discovered throughout his illustrious careers as adolescent, PJ, and detective, that women either really liked him or really did not. His money was that Legs really did not. She normally wouldn't be a problem, except that she was a witch. You could more than likely set him on fire or turn him into a caterpillar or something. Did it escape your logic that every wizard in Vembrace is going to be hunting for us? She continued. It did not, Scrip said, though I suspect every wizard of Vembrace is going to be getting their asses handed to them by the grin in maybe a day or so. And that is my ring. The fact that she was holding it allowed her to both understand him and speak to him. She paused, assimilated his words, and then answered. And do you think the red cloths can not do both? Reduce our small company to ashes and then proceed to the front? And the ring is mine now. You were careless both with your gift and our lives. She had the kind of eyes that were hard to read, not because they were glossed over with frost like Serena's, but because they were so deep, churning with thoughts and emotions that were foreign to him. Scrip looked around, particularly at Gavin and Noah, who were listening in silently, and then at the Minotaurs. Make a try. And besides, now we have horses, good ones. And that ring was a gift. Give it back. Scip, that is your name, is it not? She asked. Though she put a small accent on the P, making it Scip-eh. What do you propose now that we get food and rest? We are in the middle of the kingdom of Embrace, and you just put a bounty on all of us. And I told you, the ring is mine. The blood and dead bodies and fatigue and homesickness swimming around Scip's mind finally penetrated his shell of black humor. He sucked his teeth and stepped closer to her. Then we better stick together, eh? Nor Dianna give him back his ring. Scrip, no need to be bellicose. Nor Dianna, not quite as weird as he remembered it, held the ring up to her eyes between her thumb and forefinger and inspected it. Pretty good, she said, and dropped it into Scip's extended palm. It's exquisite, he said after a hoof. There is grain in the storehouses, the bleeding peasant said, somehow standing despite the blows he'd received. His body was covered with a half-dozen wealth that oozed blood and his face was battered, but he was upright, his left eye almost swollen shut. The other peasants had stopped their labor and came up behind their beaten pier, looking around in amazement. And I know where they keep their arms and feed for the horses. Are you mad? A scrawny, balding peasant said to the beating victim. The witches will have our skins for helping Magi. They already will have our skins, another one grumbled from behind. There were twenty-two assembled, some awed, all nervous. One problem solved, Scip said to Nor Dianna. She shook her head, pursed her lips. No, Scrip, she is right. You've endangered us all. You've endangered us all. If the world is to be saved, Noah said, it must be a world worth saving. Even Dwonsalk paused. There was an edge in Noah's voice that cut right through their conversation. Scip would have looked in the mirror just then. He was sure he would have seen the identical expression of steel and resolve. Right is right. It was reckless, Nor Dianna said, regardless. True, Noah continued. But now there is no mystery to when Vambrace will strike. Look there, one of the Foo-Manchu Olympian jousters said and pointed to the sky. All of them looked up. Scip's stomach curled. Birds, hundreds of crows and ravens hurtling toward them. Wizards, Noah said, pulled to Hornai. Everyone else follow her lead. They'll kill us on sight.