Jim nodded. ‘Now, go and annoy the men.’
Kaspar did as requested and Jim glanced around. The elves had been cursory about disarming the men, knowing that one of their magicians could deal with any insurrection easily, and had taken only the obvious weapons: swords, daggers, knives, and bows and arrows. But Jim knew that a few of the men harboured knives in boots or up their sleeves and he was a walking inventory himself of unexpected weapons and tools. He reached down to his left boot as if scraping off something attached to the sole deftly, he opened a small hollow in the heel and pulled out a tiny crystal vial. He hated the thought of breaking such a precious container – the cost for having a hundred of these made in a land far enough from Krondor to not arouse suspicion had caused Lord Erik to almost – but this was just the sort of situation for which he had prepared this treasure.
He used his left thumb nail to crack the vial as Kaspar awoke those men who were dozing or asleep and let half a dozen drops of liquid wet his lips. He sucked up the tiny bit of very powerful magic and waited.
The tingling across the surface of his body told him that he was now invisible to any mortal eye. It was good to be working with powerful magicians, Jim considered, not for the first time in his life. He knew that in half an hour he’d be visible again, and he knew the potion didn’t mask his tracks or other signs he might leave behind. In fact, he was counting on it.
Kaspar looked up and was startled to see that Jim Dasher was gone. He glanced around the room. One of the elves at the door looked towards him as he started speaking to the men and Kaspar quickly averted his eyes, giving the men a cursory account of his discussion with Castdanur. He then cautioned them to maintain discipline while in captivity and left them with a promise that everything would be over soon. As he crossed the floor to his pallet, he lay down and tried to sleep. He wondered if being over soon was necessarily a good outcome.
Jim Dasher had been born in the city, raised a city boy, and hated the wilderness, but he had spent months in the forests and mountains north of Krondor learning his woodcraft from a pair of very determined, very tough and unforgiving Royal Krondorian Pathfinders. He couldn’t live off the land indefinitely, but he could keep from starving for a few weeks and knew better than to seek shelter in some angry cave bear’s den. He was also a fair tracker – though not as adept as even Kaspar, let alone the elves — and knew how to hide a trail.
At the moment, though, he was concerned about the Void-darters and their wolf-riding masters. Jim could think in very complex fashion, a trait which had made him a most valuable asset to both the Crown of the Isles and the Conclave. While constantly assessing his situation and planning his next move, he was also reviewing the events of a very long day. He wished he had more information to take back with him, such as who the wolf-riders were. Those creatures weren’t wolves, he knew, but until someone put a proper name to them, wolves would have to do. And the elves? They were a puzzle. He knew as much as any man in the Kingdom of the Isles about elves: his story about the cave and elf wizard was nonsense, but he had been to Elvandar and the trinket he wore around his neck was genuine.
He had read every document in Krondor’s royal archives pertaining to the elves, from some very ancient nonsense that predated the Riftwar to every official report concerning the activities of Warleader Thomas and his wife, the Elf Queen Aglaranna. The Kingdom might have many allies, but he was certain they had none more dependable than the royal court in Elvandar.
Which led him back to not knowing what to make of this band of elves. He spoke enough of their language to have puzzled out some of what they said, but only enough to make him even more curious and frustrated.
Now, Jim Dasher paused and listened to the rhythm of the night. The breeze stirred the branches, and night birds and nocturnal animals scurried. Most went to ground as he approached, for their senses far outmatched his ability to move stealthily. But those just outside the area he disturbed in passing continued their activities, and they provided tiny clues as to how much danger lay nearby. Absolute silence was as deadly as the sound of armed men crashing through the brush behind him.