Watt-Evans, Lawrence - Annals of the Chosen 01 (49 page)

The
planning
and
plotting
continued
well
into
the
night;
at one
point
the
Seer
warned
them
that
the
Wizard
Lord
was listening
in
through
the
innkeeper's
cat,
and
they
shifted
the focus
of
their
discussion
for
a
time.

And
finally,
not
long
before
midnight,
they
found
their way
to
their
two
rooms.

In
the
morning
they
set
about
implementing
their schemes—a
wagon
and
oxen
were
bought,
a
smith
hired
to construct
a
protective
cage.
Wind
howled
through
the
streets constantly,
but
rain
only
fell
when
one
or
another
of
the Chosen
was
out
in
the
open.

The
wagon
was
stocked,
supplies
laid
in,
while
the
cage was
built;
the
project
used
almost
the
smith's
entire
supply of
iron
and
took
three
days
to
complete,
but
at
last
the
wagon stood
ready.

Breaker
looked
at
it
with
mixed
feelings.

The
wagon
itself
was
nothing
very
special—a
large
un-painted
wooden
box
on
four
sturdy
wheels,
a
bench
at
the front,
drawn
by
four
oxen.
The
metal
lightning
cage,
however,
gave
it
a
strange
and
mechanical
appearance.
Four
long metal
rods
stood
a
foot
out
from
either
side,
mounted
on
iron brackets,
and
extending
from
two
feet
above
the
top
of
the wagon
to
a
few
inches
from
the
ground;
two
more
were mounted
at
the
front,
another
pair
at
the
back,
making
a dozen
in
all.
Because
the
Scholar
had
been
uncertain
what would
be
most
effective,
half
the
rods
were
iron,
and
half were
copper,
alternating.
Iron
scrollwork
formed
a
protective
web
above
the
top
of
the
wagon,
connecting
all
twelve, and
chains
dangled
from
the
bottom
of
each
rod,
dragging on
the
ground.

"How
much
does
that
weigh?
"
he
asked.

"A
great
deal,"
the
Leader
said.
"We
may
need
more
oxen, especially
in
the
mud—but
let
us
try
it
as
it
is
and
see
how we
fare."

Breaker
nodded.

At
dawn
the
next
day
they
boarded
the
wagon;
the
Archer claimed
to
know
how
to
drive
a
team
of
oxen,
so
he
took
his place
on
the
bench
while
the
other
six
climbed
into
the cramped
interior
and
settled
onto
the
boxes
of
supplies
that served
as
seats.
The
Leader
lit
a
small
and
distressingly smoky
lantern
and
hung
it
from
a
hook
in
the
ceiling—the wagon
had
no
windows,
as
no
one
had
thought
them
necessary,
and
the
light
that
leaked
in
around
the
Archer's
back was
gray
and
unsatisfying.
Rain
drummed
heavily
on
the roof.

Then
the
Archer
shook
the
reins
and
called
"Hyaah!,"
and with
a
jerk,
the
heavy
contraption
started
forward.

They
had
scarcely
left
Riversedge
when
the
first
rumble of
thunder
sounded—at
first
Breaker
had
taken
it
for
the cart's
wheels
rolling
over
something,
or
something
shifting in
the
wagon,
but
then
it
sounded
again
and
he
knew.
He glanced
out
at
the
Archer's
back,
hunched
against
the
rain.