King Kobold revived-Warlock-2.5 by Christopher Stasheff Page A

frowned. “Why, how is that?”
    “Because you said the thought ended just after the beast-man realized what he was doing. That means either that he deliberately hid his thoughts somehow, or that his thoughts can only be read when he’s at an emotional peak.”
    “Why, that is so!” Toby looked up at Rod wide-eyed.
    Rod squirmed; he hated hero worship, especially when it was directed at him. It made a man feel so responsible… “Of the two, I’d guess they can hide their thoughts. There must’ve been some sort of strong emotion in them when they sacked the Loguire coast, but no witches heard them.”
    “But would not a one of them have let slip a thought in the heat of battle?”
    Rod nodded. “You’d think so, wouldn’t you? So maybe it’s the other way around; maybe their thoughts can only be read when they’re pushing them out. That surge of thought Matilda picked up sounds like a prayer—and a prayer is deliberately aimed away from yourself; you’re trying to reach someone else with that kind of thought.”
    “Then, let us be glad there is one strong believer amongst them.”
    “Yes, and that the old gods happened to be out of sight at the moment and needed a strong push behind a prayer if it was going to reach them.”
    “But how could a god be in sight?” Toby looked puzzled. “They are naught but dreams.”
    “Point well-taken,” Rod admitted, “but the beastmen might not know that yet. Especially if they’ve got an idol… Hm! Now you’ve got me wondering…”
    “About what, Lord Warlock?”
    “About their new god. I wonder just how new he is? What he wants his wor-shippers to do?”
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    Toby’s eyes suddenly lost focus. “Lord Warlock… word from Marion… the dragon ship hath shown no sign of turning in toward shore. It sails on past Bourbon…” He frowned a second in concentration, probably his equivalent of, “Acknowledged; that’s a copy,” then turned back to Rod. “The beastmen sail on, northward.”
    “Then, we’ll head north too. Sergeant!” Rod called back over his shoulder. “Turn left at the next crossroad!” He turned back to Toby. “Send word to His Majesty.”
    “Aye, Lord Warlock.” Toby’s eyes lost focus again. Rod watched him in si-lence for a few minutes, till the young warlock’s eyes cleared again. He turned to Rod with a half-smile. “His Majesty turns the main army northward. He is quite pleased with his new way of sending messages betwixt the parts of an army.‘’
    “I should think he would be. Any medieval commander would’ve given his right arm for an advantage like that. You know, Toby, when this is all over I’ll bet His Majesty tries to set up a permanent witch-and-warlock network—only for royal messages, of course.”
    Toby frowned. “That is not wholly a happy thought, Lord Warlock.”
    “No, neither for you, nor for the general population. Though you must admit it would guarantee you full employment.”
    “Fuller than I wish, I doubt not.”
    “Well, that’s a point. It is nice to be able to keep the workday down to eight hours—and it’s even nicer to have some choice as to whether or not you’re going to take the job in the first place. No, it’s okay for an emergency, but we definitely shouldn’t encourage this kind of thing during peacetime.”
    “Save for thy messages, of course,” Toby said with his tongue in his cheek.
    “Well, of course. But that’s a different case, isn’t it? I mean, I’m almost a member of the tribe.”
    “By marriage,” Toby agreed. “Aye, when all’s said and done, thou art a war-lock.”
    Rod opened his mouth to deny it, thought what would happen if he did, and closed his mouth again. The sun was only a red glow behind Rod’s right shoulder as he rode down the winding road toward the Romanov beach. “No faster than a trot, Sergeant! Let these folk by! We’re here to defend them, not trample