The Warlock is Missing

Chapter 11

It was still dark when Kelly shook them, one by one, calling softly, "Wake. The sun rises over the pastureland, children, even though ye see it not. We must begin the day's journey. Wake!"

The children rolled over with an assortment of groans. "But we were awake so late last night, Kelly," Gregory pleaded.

"And 'twas quite wearying," Geoffrey seconded.

"Wearying! Sure and I thought ye did love a good fight!"

"I do," the boy yawned, "yet 'tis wearying nonetheless.!'

"Wherefore ought we to wake, when Puck doth not?" Magnus groused.

"He rose up before ye, and went ahead to spy out the countryside. Ye'll not go unwarned into danger again, says he! So come, awake!"

"Let me sleep a bit more," Cordelia murmured, burrowing her head back into her rolled-cape pillow.

But a velvet nose nuzzled her cheek, and she looked up to see the unicorn standing over her, silver in the dark. With a glad cry, she leaped up to throw her arms about the creature's neck.

The boys rose more slowly, but with much chivying, Kelly managed to persuade the children to wash. With a splash of cold water on their faces and a double handful of wild berries in their stomachs, they felt bright enough to trudge out of the forest.

They came into pastureland, and the cool, moist air, coupled with the sight of the early sun, raised their spirits enough so that they began singing as they wended their way down a cow-track, with Fess, who had finally found them again after their adventure with the troll, trudging contentedly behind them. Geoffrey even felt lively enough to fly a few. feet every other bar.

At the top of his third flight, he suddenly fell silent and

dropped back to earth hissing, "Hush! 'Tis four hulking thieves, or I mistake quite!"

Gregory bobbed up to take a look, but Magnus caught him by the ankles and hauled him back down. "Nay! If there be evil men, it most becomes children to be unseen and unheard!"

They went forward in silence, stealing into the hedgerow at the edge of the field and peeking out. They saw a dusty road. Off to their right, it met another such track to form a cross-road, marked by a huge stone cross. To their left, four beefy men came swaggering along, guffawing and bellowing.

"Eh, but didn't he run, though!"

'"Twas well for him, or we'd have left his carcass for crow-meat!"

"Nay, nay! We could ha' guv him as fancy a funeral as any village priest!"

"Surely we could have—he'd paid dearly enough for it." The biggest man chortled and held up a leather bag as big as his head.

"Aye," growled the shortest and most burly man, "yet we've not split it up into shares! And if I don't have mine soon, Borr, 'tis your corpse we'll bury, not his!"

Anger sparked in the eyes of the man called Borr, but he managed to smother it under a cardboard smile. "Eh, now! Would I cheat ye, Morlan?"

"Only an I did let ye," Morlan rumbled.

The anger glinted in Borr's eyes again, but he managed to keep the smile in place. "Why, comrade! Never would I! 'Tis only that we did need to be far enough from the ambush, lest that fat merchant might summon the Reeve!"

"So ye said," one of the other thugs growled, "but we're far enough now."

"Aye." Morlan pointed at the stone cross. "Yon's Arlesby Cross. 'Tis two miles we've come. Is that not enough?"

"Aye, 'tis indeed!" Borr agreed. "And there's the offering-stone before the rock! Others may leave food for the fairies on it—but 'tis in my mind 'twill make an excellent counting-table for us! Come, comrades!"

The four men strolled up to the cross.

They are robbers! Gregory thought.

Thieves, who've robbed a fat merchant, Geoffrey agreed.

'Tis outrage! Cordelia's thoughts were fiery. What harm had that poor man done them?

Ask rather, who would harm them for robbing him? Geoffrey retorted.

Magnus set his hand on his dagger.

A small hand grasped his thumb with an iron grip. "Nay!" Kelly hissed. "Ye cannot save the poor merchant now—his gold's already stolen!"

"We might return it to him," Magnus pointed out.

" 'Tis not worth hazarding yerselves!"

" 'Tis no hazard," Geoffrey grated.

"Mayhap ye are right—yet reflect! The Puck is not by ye now, if ye're wrong!"

Geoffrey hesitated.

The four robbers squatted down around the offering-stone, and Borr upended the bag. Coins tumbled out, and the men hooted delight.

"One for ye, Morlan!" Borr shoved a gold piece toward the squat man. "And one for ye, Gran—and one for ye, Croll…"

"And all for me!" rumbled a voice like the grinding of a mill wheel. Out from behind the stone cross he came—eight-feet tall at least, and four-feet across the shoulders. His arms were thick as tree trunks, and his legs were pillars. The cudgel he swung in his right hand was as big as Magnus, and probably heavier. His shaggy black hair grew low on his forehead; his eyes seemed small in his slab of a face, and his grin showed yellowed, broken teeth. "Nay, then!" he boomed. "Bow down, wee men! 'Tis your master Groghat who speaks!"

The robbers stared at him for one terrified instant. Then they leaped up and ran—except for Morlan, who swept the coins back into the bag before he turned to flee.

Groghat caught him by the back of his collar and yanked him off his feet. Morlan squalled in terror, and Groghat plucked the moneybag out of his hands before he threw him after his mates. Morlan howled as he shot through the air, spread-eagled, and Borr yowled in pain as Morlan crashed into him. Gran and Croll, the fourth robber, kept running, but Groghat passed them in a few huge loping strides and slewed to a halt, facing them with a scowl and a lifted bludgeon. "I bade thee bow!"

Gran faced him, knees trembling and face ashen. Slowly, he bent his back in a bow—but Croll whirled toward the trees at the side of the road.

Groghat's club slammed into the man's belly, and the rob-ber fell, curled around the agony in his midriff, mouth spread wide, struggling for the breath that would not come. The giant stood over him, glowering down at Morlan and Borr.

Slowly, they bowed.

"'Tis well," Groghat rumbled. "Be mindful henceforth—I am thy master. Whatsoe'er thou dost steal, thou shalt bring three parts out of four unto me."

"Nay!" Morlan bleated. "'Tis we who do steal it, we who run the risk of a hang…"

The huge club slammed into his ribs and something cracked. He fell, screaming.

"And do not seek to withhold aught," Groghat bellowed over the noise, "for I shall know, soon or late, who hath taken what, and shall find thee wheresoe'er thou dost roam!"

"Nay!"

"Nay, Groghat, we never would!"

"Three parts out of four to thee, Groghat, ever, henceforth!"

The giant glared down at them, nodding slowly. "See thou dost not forget." He nudged Morlan with his foot. "Take thy fools, and be gone."

"Aye, Groghat! Even as thou sayest!" Gran knelt to pull Morlan's arm over his,shoulders. Morlan screamed in pain.

Borr stood looking up at the giant. He was trembling, but he plucked up his courage to ask, "Art not afeard of Count Glynn? Assuredly, thou art mighty—but how wilt thou fare an he doth come against thee with an hundred men, armored?"

Groghat laughed, a sound like marbles rolling down a sheet of iron, and pulled something out of the wallet that hung from his belt. "Look and see!" he bellowed.

Borr took a hesitant step, eyeing Groghat warily.

"Nay, be not afeard!" the giant rumbled. "I'll not smite thee now. Come and see!"

He doth wish them to look, Geoffrey thought. He doth wish to boast.

Borr looked down into the giant's cupped palm and his bream rasped in, harsh with dismay. " 'Tis Count Glynn's signet ring!"

"The same," Groghat laughed, "and I assure thee, I did not find it by the side of the road!"

Borr lifted his gaze to the huge face, trembling. "Hast thou then slain him?"

"What! Throw aside a counter for bargaining? Nay!"

Groghat laughed with contempt. "What would I do then, if the Duke and his horse and foot came against me, eh? What would I do now? Nay, ask!"

"What wouldst thou do now, if the Duke came against thee with all his horse and all his men?" Borr asked, quavering.

"Why, bid him, 'Hold, or I will slay them! Slay Count Glynn, and his wife and babes!" Groghat cried. "Would he charge me then? Nay!"

He holds them imprisoned! Cordelia thought, appalled.

We must rescue! Geoffrey clenched the nearest branch so hard his knuckles whitened.

"Hold fast," Kelly hissed, laying a hand on his shoulder. "He will not kill them, as thou hast now heard. No further harm will come to them—yet it might, to thee."

"Aye, quake!" Groghat laughed, "Tremble, and rightly! For 'tis I who rule this county now, and all must pay me tribute!"

"Aye, Groghat!" Borr was nodding so quickly it seemed his head might fall off. "All shall be as thou dost say, Groghat!"

"Be sure that it will," the giant rumbled. "Will you or nill you! Nay, be assured—I will not take all thou dost steal. Wherefore ought I? For then thou wouldst steal no longer, and I wish thee to—to keep garnering gold for me. Yet thou wilt give to me three gold pieces of each thou dost steal, and three of each four silver and copper, also!"

"Aye, Groghat!"

"Even as thou dost say, Groghat!"

"Be sure of it!" The huge club hissed through the air and slammed into Borr, sending him flying with a yelp. Groghat laughed as he tied the moneybag to his belt. "That will ensure thy memory! Forget me not! Now up, and away—the whole day lies before thee, and thou hast much stealing to do for me!" And he turned away, guffawing and beating the money-bag in time to his footsteps as he strode away down the road.

Borr and Croll hauled themselves to their feet, groaning.

"Here, then! Aid me with him!" Gran cried.

Borr turned, frowning at Morlan, then nodded. "Aye. He did, at the least, fight the ogre." He reached down.

"Not the arm—he hath broken ribs on that side," Gran cautioned. Together, they helped the moaning man to his feet.

" 'Twill heal, Morlan, 'twill heal," Gran soothed.

"Yet will we?" Borr muttered as they turned away. "We must now rob whether we wish to or not!"

"Oh, be still! Thou knowest thou didst wish to," Morlan groaned.

"Aye," Borr admitted, "yet to keep only one coin out of four!"

" ''Tis one more than thou wouldst have otherwise," Morlan growled. "But help me to a bandage and a bed! Then give me two days, and I'll aid thee in robbing again!"

And they went off down the road, grumbling and moaning.

"Nay, 'tis scandalous!" Geoffrey hissed, as soon as they were out of hearing. "Will the roads not be safe for any man now?"

"At the least, we know now why Count Glynn did not summon his knights to battle Count Drosz," Gregory pointed out.

"Even so," Magnus said with a scowl. "There will be no government henceforth—he who hath seized rule, will do naught but take money!"

"'Tis outrage!" Geoffrey exclaimed. "The Count can no longer protect his people—and this giant will encourage bandits, not stop them!"

"No woman or child will be safe now," Cordelia whispered.

"Out upon him!" Geoffrey cried. "Let us slay this vile giant!"

"Nay, children, stay!" Kelly warned. "''Tis not a common man ye would fight now, but a monster!"

"And was that dragon a garden lizard?" Geoffrey countered.

" 'Gainst that dragon, thou hadst the power of the unicorn to aid thee—but what aid will she be 'gainst a fell man of that size? Nay, Groghat might catch and hurt her!"

"Oh, nay!" Cordelia cried, flinging her arms about the unicorn's neck.

Kelly pressed his advantage. "And thou didst have the Puck's magic to strengthen thine. Wilt thou not wait till he doth rejoin thee?"

"But this monster must not be left an hour, nay, a minute, to strike terror into our neighbors!"

"And who will take up the reins of governance when he hath dropped them?" Kelly demanded. "Nay, ye must free the count and his wife and children ere thou dost seek to battle the giant!"

"Why, then, lead us to them!" Geoffrey said.

"Thou carest not which battle thou hast, so long as thou hast battle," Cordelia scoffed.

"Thou dost me injustice!" Geoffrey turned on Cordelia, clenching his fists.

"'Tis true." Magnus slid artfully between them. "Thou must needs own, sister, that thy brother doth contain his hunger for fighting 'till he doth find a brawl that will aid other folk!"

"Aye, 'tis true," Cordelia sighed, "and here's a brawl that will aid them surely."

"Then let us to it!" With the children safely sidetracked, Kelly could let his own anger boil up. "The gall of him, to strike at a woman and babes! Onward, children! For we'll find and free that count, and he'll call up his knights! Then may ye aid him in making that giant into a doormat for the town gates!"

"Aye!" the children shouted, and followed the leprecohen.

The boys decided flying was faster, but Cordelia wouldn't leave her unicorn, so they flew down the road to either side of her, with Gregory perched astride the unicorn's neck just in front of Cordelia with an ear-to-ear grin, thumping the poor beast's withers and howling, "Giddyap! Giddyap!"

"Wherefore hath the beast come to tolerate him, yet not us?" Geoffrey called to Magnus.

His big brother caught the blackness of his mood and shouted back, "Mayhap because Gregory is so tiny. Contain thyself, brother!"

Geoffrey lapsed into a simmering glower.

Fess brought up the rear with Kelly dodging between his hooves and howling, "Ye great beast! Tread more softly!"

As they rode, clouds drifted across the sky, and the day turned gray. Kelly lifted his head and sniffed the air. "Sure and it's rain I'm smelling!"

"An analysis of local meteorological conditions indicates a high probability of precipitation," Fess agreed.

Thunder rumbled, not terribly far away.

"Ought we not seek shelter?" Cordelia asked.

"'Twould be wise," Kelly agreed, and swerved off the road into the trees. "Turn, Iron Horse! At the least, the rain will reach us less beneath leaves."

Thunder rumbled again, and the first raindrops sprinkled the road as the children turned to follow Kelly. They thrashed

their way through the underbrush at the side of the road. After fifty feet or so, the forest floor became relatively clear, as the deep shade of the towering trees cut off sunlight from the small growth. There were still roots and saplings, so the unicorn and the robot-horse couldn't really run. They hurried as quickly as they could, though, trotting. Kelly led the way, dodging saplings and vaulting tree roots.

" 'Tis a hut!" Geoffrey cried, pointing.

The children looked up, then swerved off after him with glad cries. The unicorn followed, responding to Cordelia's nudge.

"Nay, children!" Kelly cried. "Will ye not heed? There's something about that hut I like not!"

But the children ran blithely on.

He frowned up at Fess. "Hast thou naught to say? Do ye not also mislike it?"

The great black horse nodded.

Kelly ducked into a hollow at the base of a tree and dropped down, cross-legged, folding his arms. "I'll not move from here! Do as I do, ye great beast—will ye not? Let's bide here without, and watch and wait, so we can spring to their aid if they need us."

Fess nodded again, and crowded up against the tree, to block the rain from Kelly's doorway.

The two older boys shot through the window. The unicorn pulled up short at the doorway. Cordelia sprang down, and hammered on the panel. It swung open, and Geoffrey stood there. "Who would it be, calling at this time of the day? Eh! We have no need of your ware!"

"Oh, be not so silly!" Cordelia ducked in through the doorway, hauling Gregory with her. She stopped and looked around in surprise. "Doth none live here then?"

"If one doth, he is not at home." Geoffrey looked around at the empty interior. Gregory scuttled past his hip.

Cordelia turned to look up at the unicorn. "Will you not come in, then?"

The unicorn tossed her head and turned away, trotting back toward the wood.

"Come back!" Cordelia cried.

The silver beast turned and looked back, tossing her head and pawing the turf. Then she whirled away, trotting off among the trees.

"Hath she left again, then?" Geoffrey said hopefully.

"Oh, be still!" Cordelia turned back, tilting her nose up. "She doth but seek her own form of shelter. I misdoubt me an she doth not trust housen."

"Nor do I." Magnus was looking around the hut with a frown. "How can this chamber be so much larger than it seemed from the outside?"

Cordelia shrugged and went to sit on a three-legged stool by the fireplace. "All houses do seem smaller from without."

"Yet 'twas not a house—'twas but a hut of sticks! And here within, 'tis a solid house of timbers, with walls of wattle and daub!" Magnus went over to the table set against one wall and frowned up at the shelves above it. "What manner of things are these?" He pointed from one bottle to another. "Eye of newt… fur of bat… venom of viper…"

"They are the things of magic," Gregory said, round-eyed.

Magnus nodded somberly. "I think that thou hast the right of it. And they are not the cleanly things, such as old Agatha doth use when she doth brew potions, but foul and noisome." He turned back to his brothers and sister. "This is a witch's house, and worse—'tis a sorcerer's!"

The door slammed open, and a tall old man hunched in, face and form shrouded by a hooded robe. A yellowed beard jutted out of its shadow, wiggling as he swore to himself, "What ill chance, that such foul weather should spring up! What noisome hag hath enchanted the clouds this day?" He dropped a leather pouch on the table in the center of the room. "At the least, ere dawn, I gained the graveyard earth I sought —so the trek served its purpose." He yanked off his robe, muttering to himself, went to hang it by the fire—and stopped, staring down at Cordelia.

She shrank back into the inglenook, trying hard to make herself invisible.

The old man was tattered and grubby, wearing a soiled tunic and cross-gartered hose. His face was gaunt, with a hooked blade of a nose and yellowed, bloodshot eyes beneath stringy hair that straggled down from a balding pate—hair that might have been white, if he had washed it more often. Slowly, he grinned, showing a few yellow teeth—most of them were missing. Then he chuckled and stepped toward Cordelia, reaching out a hand blotched with liver-spots.

"Stand away from my sister!" Geoffrey cried, leaping between them.

The sorcerer straightened, eyebrows shooting up in surprise. "Eh! There's another of them!" He turned, saw Gregory and, behind him, Magnus, hunched forward, hands on their daggers—but he saw also the fear in the backs of their eyes. He laughed, a high, shrill cackle, as he whirled to slam the door shut and drop a heavy oaken bar across it. "I have them!" he crowed, "I have them! Nay, just the things, the very things that I'll need!"

"Need?" Dread hollowed Magnus's voice. "What dost thou speak of?"

"What dost thou think I speak of?" the sorcerer spat, whirling toward him. He stumped forward with a malevolent glint in his eye. "What manner of house dost thou think thou hast come to, child?"

Magnus swallowed heavily and said, "A sorcerer's."

"Eh-h-h-h." The sorcerer nodded slowly, a gleam in his eye. "Thou hast sense, at the least. And what doth a sorcerer do, lad?"

"He doth… doth brew… magics."

"Well! So thou knowest that little, at least! Yet the better sorcerers do seek to discover new magics—as I do. For I am Lontar, a sorcerer famed throughout the countryside for weird spells and fell!"

The children stiffened, recognizing the name of the man who had cursed old Phagia.

Again, the gap-toothed grin. "And I've found one that will give me power over every soul in this parish! Nay, further— in the county, mayhap the whole kingdom!"

Gregory stared up at the old man's eyes and thought, He is mad.

"Hush!" Magnus hissed, clapping a hand onto his shoulder, for Gregory had not cast his thoughts in their family's private way. But Lontar's grin widened. "Patience—he is young. He knoweth not yet that all witch-folk can hear one another's thoughts. But I…" he tapped his chest. "I am more. I can make others hear my thoughts—aye, even common folk, lowly peasant folk, with not one grain of witch-power in their brains!"

The children were silent, staring at him.

The sorcerer cackled, enjoying their fright. "Yet 'tis not thoughts alone I can send, nay! For years I have studied, trying and trying, again and again, whetting my powers with one weird brew after another—yet I have learned the craft of it, aye, learned it until I can work this spell without drinking even a drop of the potion, nor a whiff of its fumes! First with mere earthworms, then with the robins who came for them, then with field mice, rabbits, wolves, bears—all, all now cower before me! All shrink and howl, turn and flee, when I do cast this into their brains!"

"Cast what?" Even Geoffrey could not quite disguise the dread in his voice.

"Why… pain!" The sorcerer cackled with high glee. "'Tis pain, pure! Pain, searing pain, as though thy head did burn, and thy whole body did scream with the stings of a thousand bees! 'Tis pain, pain, the root of all power—for pain doth cause fear, and fear doth make all to obey! Yet!" He speared a long, bony forefinger straight up. "My work is not done! I cannot yet go forth, to take rule of the county! For I've not done with the last task!"

"And what task is that?" Magnus's voice trembled in spite of all his efforts; he could feel the feared answer coming.

"Why, people! Casting the pain into the minds of real people! With bears I have done it, with wolves, but never with people!" The sorcerer's eyes glittered. "To make human brains flame, to make mortal folk scream at my mere thought! And why have I not? Why, 'tis that I've never found folk with whom I could attempt it! Long have I sought some, to use for my learning—yet never did they come, strangers and alone, into my wood. Ever, ever did they come accompanied, three or four grown ones together—or they had folk who would seek them, an they did not return!"

"So have we!" Geoffrey said stoutly. "We too have folk who will scour this forest, an we come not home!"

"Thou dost lie." The sorcerer leveled a forefinger at him. "Never have I set eyes upon thee before; thou art not of this parish; thou art come from afar. And thou hast come without parents! None do so—save orphans! Or ones who do flee!" He cackled with glee at his own cleverness. "Nay, none will come seeking thee—and if they did, who would know where thou hast gone?"

"But the count!" Magnus cried, grasping at straws. "The count would call his men out against thee!"

"The count!" Lontar crowed. "Nay, there is no count! Dost thou not know? A giant did seize him! A giant did break down the door of the count's castle in the darkest hour of night, did thrust the count and his family into a bag, and commanded all

the knights and men-at-arms to put down their swords on pain of their lord's death! Then he clapped all those proud warriors in the deepest, dark dungeons, and hauled the count and his family away into his own hidden prison. The count? Ah, the count shall do naught! Nor can he, when I've learned to use my torture spell to its fullest! He, even he, shall not resist me—nor shall Groghat the giant! Even him shall I humble, even him shall I bring to his knees, screaming with the pain that sears through his brain! None will resist me; all will bow down!"

Suddenly, Gregory stilled, staring at him, unblinking.

"And I'll begin it with thee!" The old sorcerer spun, leveling a forefinger at Cordelia.

"Nay, thou shalt not!" Rage flared in Magnus in a moment of pure hate, every gram of emotion directed at the old sorcerer. Geoffrey's wrath joined his, and Cordelia's terrified anger.

Gregory cried, "I have it!" and instantly his brothers and sister found in their minds the old sorcerer's method for concentrating thought and projecting pain. With it came memories of the pain and terror of little animals, spurring the children to greater anger, and greater, as their fear and wrath focused into the old sorcerer while Cordelia screamed and screamed, the force of her horror tearing through the old man's brain with her brothers' hatred and rage behind it, stabbing through from temple to temple, searing his mind with his own techniques until his howl turned into a raw, hoarse scream. His body stiffened, hands curling into claws; he stood, back arched, for one frozen instant, then collapsed in a heap on the floor, totally silent.

The children stared, appalled, anger evaporating in an instant. Finally, Cordelia spoke. "Is… is he…"

Gregory was staring intently at the old body. "His heart hath stopped."

"We have slain him!" Cordelia cried, in dismay.

"More to the better!" Geoffrey snapped.

But Magnus said, "Nay! We must not have blood on our hands, an we can prevent it! What would Mama and Papa say?"

"That he is a vile, evil man," Geoffrey answered.

"But they would say also that we must spare his life, an we can." Cordelia knelt down by the body, gazing intently at Lontar's face. "What we have done thus far they would ap-

prove, for we have done it only in defense of ourselves—and I thank you, my brothers!" She gave each of them a warm look of gratitude that made even Geoffrey forget his anger for a moment; then she turned back to the sorcerer. "Now, though, 'tis another matter. Now we can spare his life—and we will, an we can start his heart to beating once again!"

"How canst thou do that?" Geoffrey questioned; but Magnus joined Gregory and Cordelia beside the waxen body, staring down.

"Be guided by me," Cordelia breathed, "for this is women's work, in this land. Squeeze the left of the heart, when I bid thee—now!"

With telekinesis, they massaged the heart. All three of them thought a squeeze on the left-hand side of the heart, then let go immediately.

"Now, the right side," Cordelia instructed, and they all squeezed together. "Now the left again… now right… left-right… left-right… left-right…"

They kept at it for several minutes while Geoffrey stood back glowering, his arms folded.

"It doth beat of its own," Gregory reported.

"Aye," Cordelia agreed, "but faintly. Keep pressing, brothers, but softly now."

Gradually, bit by bit, they lightened the pressure till, finally, the old man's heart was beating regularly again. Cordelia breathed a long, shaky sigh and sat back on her heels. "'Tisdone!"

"Mama would be proud of thee," Gregory said, beaming.

"And of thee." Cordelia managed a tremulous smile before she sighed again. "Eh, brothers! I hope that never again shall I come so close to causing another's death!"

"If thou dost," Geoffrey growled, "I trust he will deserve it as deeply as this one did."

Cordelia frowned down at the old sorcerer. "He hath caused great suffering, 'tis true."

Gregory frowned, too. "Mama and Papa hath said that when a person's heart is stopped too long, the brain can suffer hurt."

"Aye, and full damage." Magnus scowled, concentrating. The room was silent a moment while his brothers and sister watched him; then he nodded. "All is as it should be. From what I can tell, there is no damage done."

"There should have been," Geoffrey hissed.

Magnus glanced up at him, irritated, but said nothing—he couldn't really disagree.

"Yet I think he will not be so quick to offer injury again," Cordelia said thoughtfully.

"Aye… yet let us be certain." Magnus glared down at Lontar's unconscious face. The old man twitched in his sleep, and Magnus said, "Lay words, Gregory."

The little boy's face screwed up for a moment, then relaxed.

So did Magnus. He wiped his brow with a shaky smile. "An aught will restrain him, that will."

His brother and sister nodded. They had heard the thought Magnus and Gregory had implanted in the old man's mind. "Prom this time forth," Cordelia said, "if he doth so much as think of causing pain to another creature…"

"Every time," Gregory agreed, "each and every."

And they turned and went out the door, closing it behind them, leaving the unconscious sorcerer to waken in his own good time—with an association arc buried in his mind. If ever again he thought, even thought, of causing pain to somebody else, he would feel a twinge of the agony the children had given him stabbing through his own brain, and a small child's voice echoing in his ears:

"Thou must not be so nasty!"