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feared sighting by an early-riser."
Rod nodded. "Wise. After all, we found out everything we really needed to
know." He frowned. "Maybe more."
"What then?" Brom demanded.
Toby spread his hands. "Naught. The work was done& and I commenced to feel
as weary as though I'd not had a night of sleep."
"Not surprising, with the psychic blast you pulled yesterday," Rod reminded
him. "And teleporting takes some energy out of a man too, I'll bet."
"I think that it doth," Toby agreed, "though I'd not noticed it aforetime."
"Well, you're not as young as you used to be. What are you now, nineteen?"
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"Twenty," Toby answered, irritated.
"That's right, it's a huge difference. But that does mean your body's stopped
growing, and you no longer have that frantic, adolescent energy-surplus.
Besides, what's the furthest you've ever teleported before?"
"On thine affairs, some ten or twenty miles."
"Well, this time, you jumped& oh, let's see now& " Rod stared off into space.
"All night in a sailing ship& let's assume the wind was behind it& say, ten
miles an hour. Maybe ten hours, factored by Finagle's Variable Constant& " He
looked back at Toby. "You jumped a hundred miles or more. Twice. No wonder
you're tired."
Toby answered with a snore.
"Take him up," Brom instructed the men-at-arms, "and bear him gently to his
bed. He hath done great service for our land this morn."
One of the soldiers bent to gather up Toby's legs, but the other stopped him with
a hand on his shoulder. "Nay. Only lift the chair." The first soldier looked up,
nodded approvingly, and picked up the chair legs as his companion lifted the
back. Rod instantly memorized the second one's face, marking him as one who
might have potential.
The door closed behind them, and Brom turned on Rod. "What makest thou of
this, Lord Warlock?"
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"Confusion," Rod answered promptly. "For openers, I want him to draw a map
when he wakes up. Beyond that?" He shrugged. "We do have a tidy little
mystery, don't we?"
"Aye," Brom agreed. "Why would they come so silently back to their lair?"
"Mayhap 'twas not all returned from this sally," Tuan offered, "and they feared
the censure of the slain ones' kin."
"Possible, I suppose." Rod frowned. "But it doesn't seem very likely. I mean, I
suppose there really are some hardhearted cultures who take that attitude you
know, 'Return with your shield, or on it,' and all that. But their mission wasn't
exactly a total flop, you know. Their ship did come back stuffed. They took
everything that wasn't nailed down before they burned the stuff that was."
"E'en so, they did have dead," said Brom, "and if they'd gained recruits by
promising great bounty with little danger, they would now have reason to fear
the wrath of the kin of the slain ones."
"Ah, I see you know the ways of recruiting-sergeants," Rod said brightly. "But
they'd have to face that anger anyway as soon as the rest of the villagers found
out they were back. I mean, sooner or later, somebody was bound to notice they
were there. So why sneak in?"
Catharine looked up slowly, her face lighting. "They stole back like thieves in
the night, did they not?"
Rod frowned and nodded. "Yeah. How does that& " Then his eyes widened. "Of
course! Your Majesty has it!"
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"What?" Brom looked from one to the other, frowning.
"Aye, she hath!" Gwen jumped up. "The whole of this expedition was done in
secret!"
"Aye!" Tuan's eyes fired. "Indeed, that hath the ring of truth!"
"Hypothesis does not account for all available data," Fess said flatly behind
Rod's ear.
"But it's got the right feel," Rod objected. "Now, just how they managed to hide
the little fact that they were gone for thirty-six hours, I don't know; but I could
think of a few ways, myself."
Gwen looked up, alarmed.
"That means, Your Majesty," Rod said, hastily turning to the King, "that we're
not being attacked by a hostile nation."
"Nay, only thieves who come in ships." Tuan frowned. "Is there not a word for
such as they?"
"Yeah; they call 'em 'pirates.' " Rod wasn't surprised that the people of Gramarye
had forgotten the term; their culture was restricted to one huge island and had
been isolated for centuries.
Tuan frowned thoughtfully, gazing off into space. "How doth one fight a
seaborne bandit?"
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"By knowing something about the sea." Rod turned to Brom. "Is there anybody
in Gramarye who does?"
Brom frowned. "We have some fisherfolk in villages along the coast."
"Then, get 'em," Rod called back over his shoulder as he headed for the door.
"Get me a fisherman who knows something about the winds and the coastlines."
"An thou wishest it, we shall. But where dost thou go, Lord Warlock?"
"To find out what's current," Rod called back.
"But there's got to be a current here somewhere!"
"They are not visible on standard reflected-light photographs, Rod," Fess
explained, "and when we arrived on Gra-marye we had no reason to take
infrared stills."
Rod's starship was buried under ten feet of clay in a meadow a few hours ride
from Runnymede. He had persuaded the elves to dig a tunnel to it so he could
visit it whenever he wanted.
Now, for instance. He was enjoying the rare luxury of Ter-ran Scotch while he
pored over a set of still pictures on the chart-table screen. "I don't see anything,
Fess."
"Isn't that what you expected, Rod?"
Fess's robot brain, a globe the size of a basketball, hung in a niche in the curving
wall. Rod had temporarily taken it out of the steel horse body and plugged it in
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