But since I outrank you, I also don't think you'll hit me.Aren't you supposed to be doing something?He was technically her superior, which galled, because he wasn't a soldier — or even a battlemage.Like most of the wizards in the expedition, his expertise was in learning things from a distance.His rank had been awarded by the Emperor, days before they'd left the Imperial City.But he was probably right — as hard as it was not to stare at the thing, it was their immediate surroundings she ought to be taking in.They were on a high, bare ridge, about thirty feet from the tree line in any direction.The air was clear and visibility good.Up ahead of her, four of Brennus's fellow sorcerers were doing their mysterious business: chanting, aiming odd devices at the upside-down flying mountain, conjuring invisible winged things she noticed only because they passed through smoke and were briefly outlined.Two others were surrounding their position with little candles that burnt with purple-black flames.
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They set those up every time they stopped; the candles were somehow supposed to keep all of this conjuring from being noticed by anyone — or anything.Mazgar put her hand on the ivory grip of Sister — her sword — squinted, and licked her tusks.
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What do you reckon?He peered through it, mumbled gobbledygook, turned a dial on the device, and looked again.He scratched his red hair, and his sallow Nibenese features fell in a frown.And I'm sure it is there, somehow.But all my glass sees is a bubble of Oblivion.
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