Into the thinking kingdoms - Alan Dean Foster [105]
“No,” Ehomba replied flatly, “it is only a mirror. A device for letting people see themselves as they are.”
“Then what good is it?” A large cone slammed into the ground close enough to the swordsman’s right foot to cause him to try to jerk it farther back into the hollow. But there was no more room. And the groats, seeing that their quarry was trapped, were growing bolder, descending to lower and lower branches the better to improve their aim. Twinkling compound eyes of bright blue and green began to cluster together. Above and below them, plucked pinecones appeared to float in midair.
“The sun is still high, and very bright.” Holding the mirror firmly in one hand, Ehomba prepared to step out from beneath the protection of the tree hollow. “Their eyes are large. If I can bounce the sunlight into them and blind one or two, the others might panic and run.” He glanced briefly over at his friend. “This is what I carry it for—to reflect the sun. In my country if one encounters trouble it is the best way to signal for help across long distances.”
“I’d rather have bows and arrows.” Leaning ever so slightly forward, Simna tried to locate the nearest of their tree-loving tormentors. “But if you think it’s worth a try . . .”
The herdsman did not wait for Simna’s opinion. Stepping out into the open, he located two pairs of drifting eyes and angled the piece of mirror so that it would shine directly in their faces. Sunlight shafting down between the trees struck the glass and bounced upward, dancing around the groats’ heads. It was a difficult and tricky business. The active groats rarely stayed in one place long enough to catch the full glare from the mirror.
What happened next was unexpected. Knucker looked on in fascination, but Simna was not surprised. He had come to expect the unexpected in the herdsman’s company.
Catching sight in the mirror not of the reflected sunshine but of themselves, first one, then two, then a dozen of the invisible cone throwers came sliding and climbing down from the branches to gather as if mesmerized around the mirror. Soon the entire troop was clustered before Ehomba, gazing enthralled into the scuffed, reflective glass. It was an unnerving sight: two dozen or more sets of compound eyes adrift above the forest floor. Up close, the travelers saw that the groats’ invisible fur did not render them perfectly transparent. Where one of them moved slowly, there was a shimmering in the air that reminded Ehomba of waves of heat rising from the desert floor.
Behind him, Simna was drawing his sword. His tone reflected his homicidal expression. Squeezing out of the hollow in the tree, the black litah was right beside him.
“That’s it, bruther. Keep them hypnotized just a moment longer, until I can get in among them.” He swung his weapon experimentally. “All I’ve got to do is aim for the eyes. Packed together like you have them, I’m bound to get a couple with each blow.”
“No,” Ehomba warned him. “Keep back. For another minute or two, anyway. They are not hypnotized. It is—something else.”
The swordsman hesitated. Ahlitah halted also, growling uncertainly deep in his throat. “I don’t follow you, bruther. We may not get another chance like this.”
He was about to add something more when the groat nearest the mirror suddenly let out a startled, high-pitched squeal, the first sound they had heard one of their invisible assailants utter. Leaping straight up into the air, it promptly turned and fled. Crowding close to fill the space vacated by their rapidly retreating cousin, two more pairs of eyes abruptly sprang backwards. Unseen lips emitted panicked screeches as the entire band scrambled to flee.
It was all over in a matter of moments. One second the groats were there, clustering around the palm-sized fragment of mirror, and the next they were gone, fleeing eyeballs escaping in all directions into the safety