Good gods, he thought, still acting oblivious to the probe.
Who in the world could be doing that?
He returned to camp, but as he left the well behind him, the magical eye followed. You're a mere mortal, remember? You don't know it's there. You can't know it's there. Only a Bard or a mage could feel it.
Before he reached the horses, he felt the probe shift, weaken, then vanish. Relieved, he quickened his pace, eager to tell his Master about this unexpected intrusion.
He found Naitachal adjusting the bridle on his horse, but as soon as Alaire drew closer he felt the probe again. This time the magic only brushed past him, for it focused on the Bard instead.
The Dark Elf turned, and met Alaire's eyes with his own. Alaire nodded, ever so slightly.
"Are you ready to travel?" Naitachal asked Tension colored his words, which seemed to say, Ah, so you feel the probe too? Alaire nodded again.
"Yes, I believe so," he said, trying to approximate the same tone. "I wonder if -- ah -- we're going to see any natives today?"
Naitachal mounted his horse, and looked do Alaire.
"Perhaps. I suspect they'll see us first."
They rode for close to an hour, making idle con- versation about the weather. That wasn't hard to manage, for it deteriorated into a cloudy, cold morn- ing, threatening rain or, more likely, light snow. The mysterious probe followed them and Alaire tried to conceal his unease; it was as if a giant something was looking over their shoulder, listening to their every word.
Then, suddenly, the probe vanished.
Moments later, Naitachal chuckled. "My. That was interesting."
"It was a probe, wasn't it?" Alaire said, sensing it was safe to talk. "A Watch-Spell? Who was it? One of our mages?"
Naitachal snorted. "Hardly. It came from Sumo- men. I suspect it was one of their court mages.
Amateurish, if you ask me. We've been approaching their border for some time, but they're only now aware of it. And they tipped their hand."
Alaire had to agree; it was quite possible to Watch-Spell without alerting the subject. The wizards of Suinomen should have been more careful than that.
"If we were an invading force, they'd be in real trouble by now."
"Indeed." Naitachal frowned. "It leads me to won- der if we were right, and they want our mines to the west. They certainly weren't paying any attention to this route, until now."
During the latter half of the afternoon, the weather continued to turn. What had been nothing more than a chill in the air became a frosty winter blast, a hard, cold wind that hit them head on, from the north.
Naitachal, as usual, seemed to be taking it all in stride. Out came the winter coats, complete with hoods that buttoned closely under the chin. Alaire's hood seemed a bit oversized and hung low over his face. This obstructed his view somewhat, but the dieren clothing kept out the cold perfectly. The outfit even included thick dieren gloves, a necessity when riding.
There was another advantage to the hoods; he saw right away that the one on the Bard's coat conc Naitachal's ears and a good part of his face; he didn't look like an elf, unless seen from close up.
The sudden change in the weather made Alaire wonder if a mage had brought the cold down on them, to discourage further travel northwards. He said as much to his Master.
Naitachal shrugged the suggestion off. "I doubt it.
This is simply what the weather is like around here.