Page 77 of Kingdom of Feathers

The general looked more bewildered than ever, but Basil gave him no time to ask further questions.

“The trouble is, I need assistance to examine our camp for magic.” He studied the general’s face. “I’ve heard rumors in the past…do you have an enchanter in your army, General?”

The general gave a grunt. “I wouldn’t pin your hopes on Sergeant Sid, Your Majesty. Strictly speaking he has magic, but if he’s to be believed, it’s not strong. And he’s always so reluctant to use it, it’s not worth the effort.” He grunted again. “Amazing how obstructive a man can be without ever actually saying no.”

Thinking of the journey from Myst to the front lines, Basil cast a wry glance at Lord Baldwin beside him. “Yes,” he agreed. “Amazing.”

The nobleman had the grace to look ashamed.

“Well, I don’t think it takes very strong magic for an enchanter to simply be able to sense the presence of other magic,” Basil said, his attention back on the general. “I’d be grateful if you’d take me to this Sergeant Sid.”

“No need for you to go to him, Your Majesty,” said the general firmly. He nodded at an orderly in the corner, and the man took off out of the tent. He returned a few minutes later with another soldier in tow.

“Your Majesty,” said the general. “This is Sergeant Obsidian.”

The sergeant sprang to attention at the general’s words, throwing up and holding a salute so tight it looked painful.

“At ease,” Basil remembered to say, and the man relaxed only marginally.

Basil studied him curiously. He was younger than Basil had expected, probably only a few years older than the king—although the prominent scar on his face made the sergeant look slightly older than he probably was. The jagged white line started just below his ear and ran halfway down the soldier’s jaw. His skin was as pale as Basil’s own—perhaps a little tanned from an outdoor life—but other than that, his coloring was dark. His short hair stuck out in sharp black spikes, and his eyes were so dark Basil could barely make out the pupils.

Obsidian, the general had said? Basil restrained a smile. The young soldier was aptly named.

“Are you an enchanter, Sergeant Obsidian?” he asked genially.

Only by the slightest twitch of an eyebrow did Sergeant Obsidian betray his distaste for the question.

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“What form does your magic naturally take?” Basil asked curiously.

“Nothing remarkable, Your Majesty,” said Sergeant Obsidian in clipped accents. “I possess the ability to identify deception.”

Basil thought this over. It wasn’t the first time he’d heard of enchanters who could tell when someone was lying. “Sounds remarkable to me,” he commented mildly. “I can imagine it might be very useful, although that’s not what I’d like your help with today.”

“No, Your Majesty?” The soldier visibly brightened, and Basil’s curiosity was roused. Why was this young sergeant apparently reluctant to use his magic? But he didn’t have time to ferret out Sergeant Sid’s secrets.

“I’m just looking for assistance to identify magic,” said Basil. “And from what I understand, all magic-users can do that, regardless of the form their own power takes.”

Sergeant Obsidian’s face was once again an expressionless mask, from which Basil deduced that he was disappointed to be wanted for his magic after all.

“That’s right, Your Majesty.”

“Well then,” said Basil briskly. “Shall we begin?”

Sergeant Obsidian once again showed a flicker of emotion. Surprise this time. “Right now, Your Majesty?”

“Of course,” said Basil briskly.

“I trust you won’t object to me joining you, King Basil,” said the general. It didn’t sound like a request.

Basil restrained a sigh, resigned to the unwanted addition. “Certainly you may join me, General.” He looked back at the sergeant. “I’ve received information, Sergeant Obsidian, that there may be magic in use here at the battlefield.”

Sergeant Obsidian’s face became veiled. “Are you making an accusation, Your Majesty?”

For a moment Basil was bemused, then understanding dawned. “Against you? Not at all.”

He paused. Was it possible that the dragons had simply sensed Obsidian’s presence? He hadn’t considered that possibility. But it didn’t seem likely. They’d said magic was radiating from the area—surely the magic contained in one ordinary enchanter wouldn’t have been notable to them. Dragons must fly over enchanters all the time.

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