The Magic of Recluce - L. E. Modesitt [115]
Those were the last words from the gray wizard as I sat on Gairloch and wove reflections around us.
Wheeee…eeee. Gairloch didn’t like being blind. Neither did I.
“Easy, fellow.” I patted his neck.
Wheeee…eeee.
I patted him again.
Sitting astride Gairloch was strange when I could see nothing except a featureless black. Sounds penetrated, but not sight. But we couldn’t just sit there. So I nudged Gairloch with my heels and we stepped out blindly into the courtyard, slowly, since I could not sense people or objects unless they were close to us.
Click…click…Gairloch’s hooves sounded like thunder in my ears.
“Stableboy? Where’s the stable lad? The chestnut needs a rubdown…”
We eased around the rotund porter, hugging the brick wall of the alley until we were in the street, and I turned Gairloch southward, around where the central square seemed to be. The eastern gate was the closest, but instinctively I felt that we had more cover within Jellico, at least until they talked to either the woman or the stableboy.
…click…click…
…creeakkkk…
“…hold that wagon…”
“…told her that young blade was no good…”
“…watch it!”
“Make way! Make way for the guard!”
Feeling rather than seeing four mounted guards trotting toward the inn I had just left was more than a little unsettling, since my perceptions were not sharp, giving me only a rough outline of bodies and objects.
Under my hands, the reins felt slippery…and even with the wind-gusts ruffling my hair and the cold tingling at my ears, the sweat dribbled down my face and my neck like icy trickles from a glacier.
…Wheeee…eeeee…
I patted Gairloch again to steady him.
“…way for the guards…”
“…no horse over there…don’t care what you heard…”
At the first intersection, with no walls to hug, and storefronts and doors opening on both sides of the road, I eased Gairloch into the middle of the road, continually patting his neck with one hand and straining to sense objects and bodies before they could collide with us.
“…guard revolt in Freetown.. shameful…”
“Did you hear about the autarch?”
“…in the market’s scarcely worth eating…”
“…swore I saw a horse there for a minute…”
I wiped my forehead, glad that I was not permanently blind, as we walked click…click…clack…down the stone-paved streets of Jellico toward the south gate.
“…. way for the guard…make way…”
“…after someone…second detachment this morning…”
Another five men clattered past as I edged Gairloch toward the street edge.
…Whheeeee…eeee…
Then we took a wrong turn, leading back toward the square.
“…five pennies for a pound of yams?…”
“…try somewhere else, if you like…”
I managed to get Gairloch turned around in the narrow street without brushing into anyone, but began to wonder if I should have stayed visible until I neared the gate. Of course, then someone would have seen us disappear, and that would have been that.
I sighed—too loudly—next to an open window of a house that projected too far into the narrow way.
“Who was that?”
Gairloch and I eased back southward. In careful steps, we finally reached the southern gate.
From what I could tell, there was nothing different occurring from the time when we had entered, even if it happened to be another gate. Close to twelve guards were stationed around the area, but my perceptions did give me a small jolt.
Shielded much the same way I was, on the open ledge above the gate itself, rested a large caldron filled with oil. Under it was a set of burners—not in use at that moment, thankfully—but I wondered what else I had missed. That, and the fact that the good viscount used visual concealment, sent another shiver down my spine.
Slow step by slow step, Gairloch picked his way through the gate area. I kept patting his shoulder.
“…under that sack?”
“…open the pack slowly…”
“…blackstaffer loose in the city…”
“Where’s Jrylen?”
I didn’t like the conversation between the figure that seemed to be the guard captain and the messenger who had raced up on foot, nor that Gairloch and I were less than a rod from the pair.
“…on the