“And yet you hit the target. It worked.”
“No, no, it didn’t. That might explain why it worked on me, but what about Dorna, who used the glyph while I was absent, with no idea what spell I had tried to cast? It shouldn’t have worked for her. And if I grab Ninavis or Dango or Tanner and have them draw the glyph, it still works. This symbol is inherently magical—which is impossible.”
The count thought over the matter as they walked. “But what of demon summoning? That requires specific symbols. Aren’t those symbols inherently magical?”
Brother Qown blinked. “That’s … very astute.”
“But am I not right?”
“No. No, you’re wrong, but it’s an easy mistake to make,” Brother Qown said. “The symbols used to summon demons have no intrinsic magical nature either, but we—humans and demons both—have agreed to give them significance. They symbolize the treaty between our races.”
Janel stopped again. “Treaty? We have a treaty? Xaltorath never—”
She continued walking, looking ahead.
“We have a treaty,” Brother Qown confirmed gently. “More specifically, we have gaeshe. What we call the binding of the demons is in fact the gaeshing of the demons—all of them. The demons were given gaesh commands they must follow. For example, they are forbidden from manifesting in the physical world unless summoned. And they have to follow their summoner’s orders.”
Count Janel shuddered.
“Why would the demons agree to that?”
Brother Qown frowned. “I don’t think they did. I think it was imposed upon them.”
“They must have agreed. Anyone who is powerful enough to force the demons into such a pact would be powerful enough to destroy them. Which means they must have agreed to it. But why? What did they get out of it?”
“I always assumed they lost the original war between the Four Races and the demons. So the gods forced this on them.”
Janel laughed. “No. No, demons don’t work that way. They must have gotten something. They would never, ever have agreed to such a deal otherwise.”
“You may be right, but that’s not my point. You see how the demonic symbol has no intrinsic magical properties, yes? It’s powerful because we’ve agreed these symbols represent a specific result.”11
“Couldn’t that be true here? A symbol agreed to have a desired, specific effect?”
Brother Qown wrinkled his nose. That was a very good question. A very good, very troubling question. He searched around the edges until he found a flaw. “Agreed upon by whom, my count? The gods? It would take divine power to create such an effect, but no priest of the Eight uses this power. Father Zajhera knows more about magic than any other person I have ever known. He’d have mentioned if this existed.”
Count Janel frowned. “What are you saying, then?”
“This Doltari woman, Senera, probably does traffic in demons, given what we saw, and thus qualifies as a ‘witch.’ Besides that, though? She has access to a magic I’ve never seen before and don’t understand. The only good side I’ve discovered is the air glyph doesn’t run out. The firebloods would have suffocated otherwise.”
She sighed. “I wonder which of them was the leader.”
“Which of whom…?”
“Senera or Relos Var.”
“We shouldn’t assume they’re connected.”
“Tamin said Relos Var brought her. I only met the man once, but he didn’t strike me as the sort to be someone else’s tool. I’d think him a mare because he’s a teacher, but…” She smiled ruefully. “I don’t think Relos Var views such matters the way a Joratese would. The real question: Did he leave because of an emergency or so he wouldn’t be present for what followed?”
“That logic suggests they could’ve planned the smoke from the beginning, rather than using it as contingency.”
“What if they did?” Count Janel asked. “We don’t have enough information. And none of this explains the Yorans disguised as Joratese. Neither Senera nor Relos Var are Yoran, although I thought Senera was at first.” She picked three blades of tall field grass as they walked, braiding the strands. “Doltari, you say?”
“They’re more common in the west,” Brother Qown admitted. “They have a reputation for being a somewhat primitive folk.”
“Or at least not very good at eluding slavers.”12
He coughed. “Yes. That as well.”
She squared her shoulders. “Fine. So all these are questions to which I must discover answers.”
“You must?” Brother Qown raised an eyebrow. “Haven’t you done your part? Shouldn’t the rest be the army’s job?”
“Perhaps.” She snorted. “Probably. But I won’t spill all this onto someone else’s lap and let it be their problem. Whoever these people are, they used Tamin. They killed … I don’t even know how many people. I won’t ignore that.” She added, “Did you notice the prophecy too?”
Brother Qown paused, hoping she hadn’t grown better at reading him. “Prophecy?”
“Don’t pretend you didn’t spot it. Relos Var told Tamin the demon-claimed child would be his undoing. Which it was.” Janel stopped walking. She stood there, looking puzzled.
“Did you just think of something?”
“No, there’s something wrong—”
An elephant’s trumpet shook the ground, followed by a chorus of her herd mates. Her call sounded panicked. Then the whole herd started running, paying no heed to their human partners. Screams echoed across the grass plains.
Brother Qown recognized one of those cries: Ninavis.
“What’s going on?” Qown scanned the plain to see what might have upset the elephants.
The sky darkened.
An enormous shadow blanketed the forest, sailed out over the fields, slid back toward Mereina. The refugees ran.
Brother Qown looked up.
A gigantic form undulated across the sky, wings spread out like an enormous bird. The setting sun lit fire across the monster’s edge but couldn’t hide its shimmering white color. That opal shine reflected blue-and-purple depths as though it were formed from ice. Its head resembled a serpent, but no snake ever grew so large or soared on massive wings.
The dragon banked.
People screamed and dropped to the ground as the beast extended its wings, dropping down to swoop over the grassland.
The elephants, Brother Qown realized. The dragon was hunting elephants.
“Ninavis!” Janel screamed. She sprinted back toward the main group.
“Count! Wait!” he called out after her, but Brother Qown had as much chance of catching her as a dhole does of chasing down a falcon.
The dragon dove and snatched up an elephant in each front claw before pulling up, mighty wings driving it back into the heavens.
Everyone ran. Most ran away from the scene, but not all; Janel, Brother Qown, and Ninavis’s band ran forward. The remaining elephants rampaged, stampeding back and forth as they vainly attempted to regain their stolen sisters.
A half dozen arrows loosed from somewhere in the tall grass impacted the dragon as the beast continued her flight. Unfortunately, even as the arrows hit, they did no damage at all. Indeed, the dragon gave no hint she even noticed herself under attack. When Brother Qown reached Janel, she was standing over Ninavis, who was sitting up in the grass. The bandit leader had strung her bow and fired at the retreating dragon. Seeing the results, Ninavis had resorted to ineffective shouted curses.