“I don’t see anything,” Simna murmured.
“There’s nothing there.” The black litah snorted.
“Exactly.” Ehomba started forward, toward something only he could see. Or rather, toward nothing only he could see.
When Simna emerged from the burrow, the return of multihued light together with the sounds and smells of the world outside threatened to overwhelm his senses. Hunkapa Aub took to running about in little circles, grabbing at grasshoppers and beetles, while Ahlitah promptly lay down in the yellowed grass and rolled, immersing himself in the delicious convocation of aromas.
Looking back the way they had come, Simna could see only ground and growth, rock and soil. There was nothing to indicate to his eyes that they had just exited a corridor that tunneled between the color blue and the color green.
“It’s really there?” he found himself asking his tall companion.
“Yes, Simna. It is really there.”
The swordsman nodded somberly. “Wizardry. I’ve grown used to your denying it, Etjole, but that doesn’t mean I accept it. We both know what you are.”
“How can we both know what I am when I do not even know myself what I am?” Ehomba was not smiling. “I am a good tracker, friend Simna. Good at finding things.”
“Things that no one else can find, or even suspect exist.” Together, they resumed the trek westward. “If that’s not sorcery, I don’t know what is.” Idly, the swordsman plucked a striking blue wildflower. He did not hold on to it for long, though, having had enough blue to last him for a while.