Rupert too was shocked. Not at the words, he could understand them, had even experienced some of it for himself. It was just that-well, to have them expressed, it just brought home to him the whole situation. It also confirmed a lot of what he secretly hoped and felt. To actually have some of his own thoughts and feelings expressed by a demon of such tremendous power and might, was almost too much to be believed.
He looked over his shoulder at Tom in awe and happiness, maybe this was the sort of thing he’d been looking for. True, he hadn’t directly come out and said what Rupert had wanted said, but things were getting closer, maybe soon he’d have his confirmation. Tom said he did like Rupert, that was definitely a start.
“You! Halt in the name of the Exador, General of Turelane. Halt or be vaporized!” Not wishing to be vaporized, Gastropé naturally stopped. This was not good. He’d chosen to go west after the survivors of the wagon train, hoping they’d returned their demon, and were now sufficiently far ahead. He had figured that that would be better than risking a run in with Exador after failing. Unfortunately, it didn’t seem to have made a difference.
He stopped and turned around, trying to appear pleased to see whoever called him. Coming up the mountain trail after him were two people on a Ponto’s Firebird Flying Carpet. He had to admit, it was a beautiful red carpet, and the flaming exhaust was a rather awe inspiring sight. He crossed his arms on his chest, and tried to look impassionate.
As they pulled to a stop near him he said, “About time we got some reinforcements!” Always best to bluff, he knew it wasn’t worth lying about who he was. If he wasn’t one of Exador’s people, then he was probably one of Lenamare’s refugees and would be executed, thus best to be himself. “That stupid demon wiped out the entire ambush party except for me! I’ve been trying to follow them to see where they were going, I’m glad you’ve come to help.”
The two men didn’t look surprised, or interested. “Name.”
“I might ask the same.” Seeing no response, he replied “Gastropé Al-Ghayrani, sid Mierkan, Tolan de Turelane con Exador.” He gave his full formal name, including his current lord, Exador, just so there could be no mistaking. The men looked down a list they had, apparently looking for his name.
“Well,” one said at last, “your name is here, but you certainly don’t dress like one of our people.”
“Naturally, as I just mentioned, our entire party was trashed by a fourth order demon. There wasn’t much left of my old clothes, so I simply got together the best that I could from the remains of the wagon train, before pursuing the enemy survivors.”
“Uh huh, and where are these enemy survivors?”
“A few hours ahead of me. I gave them a bit of a head start, in case they should send their demon back reconnoitering and discover me.” These guys were not exactly the most sympathetic or trustworthy people in the world.
“Very well, your mission is temporarily suspended. You shall board this carpet and return to give your full report to Lord Exador.”
“On who’s authority?” This was not good. He really didn’t want to face Exador again.
“Lord Exador’s himself. He has ordered that anyone we found, whether our men or theirs, be returned to him at once for a full report on the event of interception of refugees. Which is apparently what happened.”
“Yes, I see,”
“On this trail there is only one place they are going of major consequence, and if necessary we can transport people fast enough to resume your mission in plenty of time.
“Board.” They landed the carpet, the nonspeaking one had a small wand pointed at Gastropé. Not good, he thought as he boarded the carpet.
It had been an hour since the demon’s speech, and Jenn still wasn’t sure what to say or think. She’d certainly been puzzling over a few things that it had said; but really, how much truth could there be in demonic propaganda? It was actually almost, well, she didn’t know. She supposed it would just be better if she didn’t think too much about what the demon said.
In order to get her mind off it, she reached back in her saddle bag and took out her diary. She hadn’t written in it since they’d left the school. She hadn’t even looked at it. Yesterday, she’d just grabbed it out from under the seat and stuck it in the saddle bag. She took it out, and went to open it.
“Now that is strange.” It was magically sealed. She hadn’t sealed it, why would she have? Carefully she examined the book; true, it looked like her diary at a glance, but on closer inspection she could see that this book, although of the same size and style was considerably older than her diary. Now that she looked at it: it was obvious. This book was much more worn than hers, and considerably more scuffed up. It was also magically sealed by some spell she’d never seen before.
