Solon didn’t hesitate. Instantly he started casting around for small branches and twigs. Jazhara took her pack down from her horse, and sat down on the ground, swinging the pack around before her as she did so. She quickly removed several vials, a small copper vessel, and a pair of thin cloth gloves. While she worked, she said, “Getting the child to drink anything could be difficult and she might cry out in the attempt. I can make a potion that will cause the baby to sleep deeply for a few hours if you can get her to breathe it in. A bit on a cloth, held over her nose and mouth for a few moments, will suffice. Be careful, though, not to breathe the fumes yourself, even at a distance. While it might not put you to sleep, it can disorient you and make it difficult for you to return.”
“Get you killed, is what she means,” said Kendaric.
Solon said, “Laddie, has anyone ever previously mentioned that at times you possess the charm of a canker on the buttock?”
James chuckled, but Jazhara was all concentration as she poured tiny amounts of liquid and powders from the five vials she had chosen. She added a few drops of water and then with an incantation placed the vessel dose to the tiny fire Solon had started.
Pulling an empty vial from her bag, she removed the stopper and deftly picked up the copper vessel, holding it gingerly with two gloved fingers. Quickly she poured the contents into the vial, then replaced the stopper.
She handed the vial to James, saying, “Carefully.” Then she rummaged around in her pack. At last she held something out to him. “Here is a clean cloth. Just before you attempt to touch the child, pour a little of the liquid on the cloth, and hold it above the baby’s face. A few moments is all it should take. She will not rouse, even if you jostle her or there are loud noises.”
“Thank you,” James said. “If there’s loud noises, it doesn’t matter if she wakes or not.” He glanced at the sky. “I must hurry. Wait here and have the horses ready for a very fast retreat if I come running.” Then he thought a bit more and said, “Have the horses ready for a very fast retreat no matter what.”
“At last a wise suggestion,” Kendaric said as he grinned.
James unbuckled his sword-belt, knowing that should he have need of his blade he and the child would most likely be facing death, anyway. He checked his dagger and placed it firmly in its sheath. Tucking the vial and cloth inside his shirt, he turned and hurried back toward the entrance of the canyon.
He made his way quickly along the ridge and this time continued until he was above the tent. Middle Moon had sunk in the west, and Small Moon and Large Moon were going to rise soon. The fire had burned low in the center of the camp and several goblins lay sleeping on the ground near it. From within several tents, the sound of snoring told James the entire camp had turned in for the night, save for whatever guards were on patrol. He prayed quickly to Ruthia, Goddess of Luck and of thieves, that the goblins and renegades weren’t smart enough to have set someone to patrolling the rim. He positioned himself above the largest tent and looked around. Then he began his careful descent.
When he reached the ground he put his ear next to the tent and listened, but could hear nothing through the heavy canvas. The bottom of the tent was tightly staked, so lifting the canvas and crawling under it was not an option. He pulled out his dagger.
Quietly, he pushed the point into the heavy canvas, and cut downward in a steady, firm motion, so as not to make too much noise. He made a slit that was big enough to peer through and looked inside. The stench that struck him almost made him vomit. He knew that stink: dead bodies. He choked down his gag reflex and looked around.
Three goblins slept on bedrolls on the ground, while another lay upon a raised dais before an altar of some sort. James looked for the baby and saw a small object behind the altar, about the size of a cradle. Slipping through the cut in the canvas, he crept toward the object.
It was indeed a rude cradle and in it the baby lay sleeping. He glanced around and suppressed a shudder. There were body parts lying upon the altar, arranged in a grotesque parody of a human form. An upper torso from a woman lay above the pelvis of a man. A child’s arm had been placed to the left, while the arm of an older child or a small woman lay on the right. Equally mismatched legs and feet were positioned below the pelvis. James glanced into the cradle. It seemed likely that this child was to provide the head. He had no idea of what black sorcery was being practiced, and he had no intention of lingering to find out. His recent experience in the Nighthawks’ desert stronghold, where he had almost been the guest-of-honor at a demon-summoning, had left him with a strong aversion to such goings-on.
James adroitly removed the vial and cloth from his shirt and, holding his breath, dabbed some liquid on the cloth. When it felt damp, he held out the cloth, and hung it above the child’s face. After a moment, he put the cloth down on the edge of the cradle, and returned the stopper to the vial. He put the vial back in his shirt and bent over to pick up the baby.