Fortune's Fool - Mercedes Lackey [65]
So, that was something. He could not watch her without her knowing that he was about. So long as she did not hear that hum, she could operate knowing that he could not find out about it.
She waited until the hum went away—and actually, she watched him go. He gathered one of those whirlwinds about himself and lofted into the sky, the bizarre thing forming a kind of brown blot against the blue. When he was out of sight, and the hum was gone for a bit, she took her waterproof wallet of oiled eelskin and unsealed the paraffin holding the edge shut. From it she took her paper crane. The Jinn had taken everything from her that looked like a weapon, but not this. He probably thought it was a lover’s token.
It might not be a bad thought to moon over it as if it were when he was about.
Carefully, she wiped her hands and forehead with a soft cloth, to avoid dampening the paper or dropping sweat on it. She unfolded the bird, and with a bit of lead stolen from a window, wrote swiftly on its interior. She used a tiny bit of magic of her own, the magic that allowed her to speak and read in any language in any land. Whoever got this would see it as the script of his or her own native tongue.
Captives being held by Jinn at Castle of Katschei. Jinn plans conquest. Champions needed. Follow bird.
That was all she had room for.
She had thought, and thought hard, about sending for Sasha—and she would, when the bird came back. But although he was a Fortunate Fool, he was no warrior, and it was warriors who were needed here now. The Jinn had to be stopped. Not just for the sake of the Sea King, but for everything else hereabouts. If the Jinn could transform one piece of forest to desert with only the power at his personal disposal, what could he do with the nearly unlimited power he would have if he took many folk captive? He could lay waste to entire Kingdoms without ever leaving the castle grounds. The more she thought about it, the more alarmed she became.
And she could not send the bird to her father, not directly. It was, after all, paper. Nor were any of his forces useful for this—not in the Drylands. It would take time for him to gather help from his allies, and time might be in short supply. A Champion or two could stop the Jinn now, before he became too powerful, but the longer they waited, the harder it would be to stop him. So she would send him word only after she sent word to Sasha.
She folded the bird back up, held it in her hands, and concentrated. I need a Champion, or more than one. I need the nearest. I need the strongest of the nearest, something that can take on a Jinn, someone clever, someone skilled. I need you also to find the nearest Champion who qualifies that can also read, so that he or she can read your message.
The nearest, strongest literate Champion; yes, that was exactly what she needed. There. That should do it. She folded the crane again and held it on her palm, balanced as if to fly. “Do my bidding, bear my word, then come you back, my paper bird,” she breathed to it.
With a rustle, the bird sprang to life.
It hovered over her hand for just a moment, tiny paper wings a blur, then shot off into the sky, just as she felt the hum return. She bit her lip. The Jinn could probably sense magic being worked. Had he felt her at work? Had he sensed the bird? Swiftly she turned to the rosebush beside her.
A moment later, the Jinn appeared in the middle of the garden, with a sound like a thunderclap and a puff of smoke, his bronze face creased with a ferocious frown. She froze in place, as if terrified, as his eyes lit on her, then moved to the branch of