Wiz looked deep into his wife’s green eyes. “There are all kinds of
hunger.”
“Food first,” the hedge witch said firmly. “Then we shall see what else
this blanket is good for.”
She settled herself on the blanket with Wiz beside her and took out a
green bottle.
“Currant wine for me,” she said as she set the bottle to one side, “and
for you, blackmoss tea.” She wrinkled her nose as she pulled the earthen
jug from the hamper.
“How you can stand to drink that stuff is beyond me,” she told her
husband, as Wiz poured the dark brew into a mug. “Especially when it is
cold.”
“Iced tea is a tradition where I come from. And it really isn’t that bad
once you get used to it.”
“Ugh!” said Moira.
Wiz raised his mug. “To us.”
Moira raised her goblet in response. Both drank and their eyes locked. Wiz
eased closer, gazing deeply into his wife’s wonderful green eyes.
“Pig’s feet!” she said suddenly.
“Huh?”
“Pickled pig’s feet.” Moira turned and reached into the basket. “Shauna
sent some along.”
“And you don’t like blackmoss tea,” he said, setting his mug down.
Moira unwrapped Shauna’s contribution. “But blackmoss tea is disgusting,”
she said seriously. “Shauna’s pig’s feet are delicious.”
“Ugh,” said Wiz firmly.
Neither of them noticed the black-gloved hand that snaked out of the
bushes behind them and passed over Wiz’s mug. Nor did they see the surface
of the tea roil briefly and then settle back into oily stillness.
* * *
Worming his way backwards Snorri kept his eyes on the couple. Wizard the
Sparrow might be, and lucky he certainly was, but neither wizardry nor
luck would save any mortal who consumed the powerful corrosive in that
cup. Even gold itself would dissolve under the puissant acid formed when
the magic powder met water.
Snorri was clever, but common sense wasn’t his strong point.
“Well,” said Moira, “I also brought along some of those meat pies you are
so fond of.”
“Now that’s more like it. Darling, I don’t know how to thank you for
setting this all up. It’s wonderful.”
Moira picked up her goblet and took a sip. “I am glad you are enjoying
yourself. And as for thanking me, perhaps we can think of something.”
Without taking his eyes off Moira, Wiz picked up his mug and raised it
toward his lips.
At which point the bottom fell out of the mug and the tea splashed all
over the blanket.
“I think I made it too strong,” Wiz said dumbly.
“Wiz, look!” Moira pointed at the blanket where the tea had splashed. The
fabric was dissolving in smoking ruin and bare black earth was showing
through beneath.
“Definitely too strong.”
“You ninny, it’s been poisoned!” Moira raised both her arms and gestured.
Instantly five guardsmen and a blue-robed wizard popped through about
them. The guardsmen surrounded Wiz and Moira and the wizard swung his
staff over his head, throwing a glittering circle of protection around the
group. Already Moira had started the spell to take them back to the castle
along the Wizard’s Way.
Back in their quarters Wiz and Moira surveyed the ruins of their picnic.
The guardsmen had brought the basket and utensils back, but the food and
drink had been disposed of as possibly poisoned. The remaining contents of
the basket had tested safe, Arianne assured them. But somehow it didn’t
make up for the rest.
Moira looked sadly at the still-smoldering remains of the blanket. For a
moment Wiz thought she would cry.
“I’m sorry about the blanket, darling.”
Moira looked up at him, smiled and clutched his arm. “I’m glad it was only
the blanket.”
Thirteen: AIR ATTACK
Glandurg put his hands on his hips and surveyed the results of his men’s
labors. The forest clearing had been converted into an impromptu
woodworking shop as dwarves dragged felled trees into position, rived them
into billets and shaped the billets according to his direction.
His original idea had been to have the griffins fly them into the castle,
but the griffins had flatly refused. Well, so be it. This would work just
as well and in truth he had more confidence in dwarvish craftsmanship than