away while we're gone."
James nodded. He led his sniffling wife back
to a chair and then returned. "I've got nothing to offer for help,
but I'd be thankful beyond words if you'd do something for me."
"Thought we were going to die?" Tristam
reminded him.
"Yes, I expect you are, but even a fool's
chance is a chance."
"I've no shortage of fools working for me,"
Tristam quipped. "We need to be off, though; what is your
boon?"
"My daughter," James said without hesitation.
He looked around until his eyes fell on Alto. "I wish she'd have
met you; you probably could have kept her head on straight."
Alto frowned. "She lost her head?"
"No," he chuckled softly. "Not in any real
sense, that is. We wanted what was best for her, we always did, but
no matter what we thought or said, she had other ideas. She used to
get so mad, I swear she could plow a field with that angry gaze of
hers."
Tristam and Alto waited while the farmer
settled his emotions down. He took a breath and let it go before
continuing. "I know she's gone; no one can survive out there for
long with them things swarming. If you find Rosalyn, can you treat
her right?"
Alto frowned and turned to Tristam. If she
was dead, how could they treat her right? Tristam ignored the young
warrior and nodded to the farmer instead. "If we can, we'll bring
her back for a proper burial."
James's face turned pale in the torchlight.
"If she's, uh, presentable. I've seen what normal bees and wasps do
to other insects they catch."
Alto's eyes widened. He'd seen it, too. The
carcasses were torn apart and fed to larvae. If they did that to
the farmer's daughter...
"We'll take care of it," Tristam promised the
farmer.
James sniffed and offered a terse nod before
he turned and walked stiffly to his wife. Alto stared after him and
then turned to his mentor. Tristam shook his head, stalling any
questions he might ask, and then turned to the door of the farm.
"Keep your wits about you out there. They may be docile at night or
they may be worse. They're unnatural."
Before Alto could begin to worry at just what
sort of unnatural behavior the wasps might have, Tristam drew the
bar on the door and opened it. Alto followed the veteran out the
door and looked around, searching for movement. A light breeze
rattled the nearly skeletal trees on the farm, causing Namitus to
jump and twist about beside him.
"How's the arm?" Alto asked, distracting the
rogue.
"What?" Namitus turned back to him and then
glanced down at his arm. He flexed his fingers, making a fist, and
then curled his arm up to the elbow. His lips twisted up into a
grim smile. "Nearly as good as new."
"Alto, check the horses," Tristam snapped
without taking his eyes off the starlit sky overhead.
Alto hurried over to the barn, accompanied by
Karthor, and pulled open the door. He was greeted with a shrill
whinny from inside that set his heart to racing. He stepped aside
as a shape rushed out of the darkness at him and then passed him
by. The other horses followed, even Tristam's mount that had been
injured hours ago. Alto could see it limping in the starlight but
only because he'd grown up having a sense of such things.
"Leander's grace!" Karthor whispered.
Alto turned away from the horses and looked
where the shocked priest was staring. Dark lumps on the floor
gradually came into focus as his eyes adjusted to the torchlight.
He saw the remains of giant wasps that had been smashed into the
floor. "How many is that?" Alto asked.
Karthor shook his head and raised his torch
higher to shed more light. The gory remains of the insects were
smashed into the ground and each other. "Two or three? Maybe?"
Alto nodded. "We're not needed; let's just
send the horses to the hive!"
Karthor chuckled. "Tristam won't risk it—he'd
be afraid they might want a part of the pay!"
"What about pay?" Tristam asked as he walked
up behind them. He grabbed the reins of his horse and ran his hand
along its neck before turning to look at the scabbed-over
James nodded. He led his sniffling wife back
to a chair and then returned. "I've got nothing to offer for help,
but I'd be thankful beyond words if you'd do something for me."
"Thought we were going to die?" Tristam
reminded him.
"Yes, I expect you are, but even a fool's
chance is a chance."
"I've no shortage of fools working for me,"
Tristam quipped. "We need to be off, though; what is your
boon?"
"My daughter," James said without hesitation.
He looked around until his eyes fell on Alto. "I wish she'd have
met you; you probably could have kept her head on straight."
Alto frowned. "She lost her head?"
"No," he chuckled softly. "Not in any real
sense, that is. We wanted what was best for her, we always did, but
no matter what we thought or said, she had other ideas. She used to
get so mad, I swear she could plow a field with that angry gaze of
hers."
Tristam and Alto waited while the farmer
settled his emotions down. He took a breath and let it go before
continuing. "I know she's gone; no one can survive out there for
long with them things swarming. If you find Rosalyn, can you treat
her right?"
Alto frowned and turned to Tristam. If she
was dead, how could they treat her right? Tristam ignored the young
warrior and nodded to the farmer instead. "If we can, we'll bring
her back for a proper burial."
James's face turned pale in the torchlight.
"If she's, uh, presentable. I've seen what normal bees and wasps do
to other insects they catch."
Alto's eyes widened. He'd seen it, too. The
carcasses were torn apart and fed to larvae. If they did that to
the farmer's daughter...
"We'll take care of it," Tristam promised the
farmer.
James sniffed and offered a terse nod before
he turned and walked stiffly to his wife. Alto stared after him and
then turned to his mentor. Tristam shook his head, stalling any
questions he might ask, and then turned to the door of the farm.
"Keep your wits about you out there. They may be docile at night or
they may be worse. They're unnatural."
Before Alto could begin to worry at just what
sort of unnatural behavior the wasps might have, Tristam drew the
bar on the door and opened it. Alto followed the veteran out the
door and looked around, searching for movement. A light breeze
rattled the nearly skeletal trees on the farm, causing Namitus to
jump and twist about beside him.
"How's the arm?" Alto asked, distracting the
rogue.
"What?" Namitus turned back to him and then
glanced down at his arm. He flexed his fingers, making a fist, and
then curled his arm up to the elbow. His lips twisted up into a
grim smile. "Nearly as good as new."
"Alto, check the horses," Tristam snapped
without taking his eyes off the starlit sky overhead.
Alto hurried over to the barn, accompanied by
Karthor, and pulled open the door. He was greeted with a shrill
whinny from inside that set his heart to racing. He stepped aside
as a shape rushed out of the darkness at him and then passed him
by. The other horses followed, even Tristam's mount that had been
injured hours ago. Alto could see it limping in the starlight but
only because he'd grown up having a sense of such things.
"Leander's grace!" Karthor whispered.
Alto turned away from the horses and looked
where the shocked priest was staring. Dark lumps on the floor
gradually came into focus as his eyes adjusted to the torchlight.
He saw the remains of giant wasps that had been smashed into the
floor. "How many is that?" Alto asked.
Karthor shook his head and raised his torch
higher to shed more light. The gory remains of the insects were
smashed into the ground and each other. "Two or three? Maybe?"
Alto nodded. "We're not needed; let's just
send the horses to the hive!"
Karthor chuckled. "Tristam won't risk it—he'd
be afraid they might want a part of the pay!"
"What about pay?" Tristam asked as he walked
up behind them. He grabbed the reins of his horse and ran his hand
along its neck before turning to look at the scabbed-over
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