The Infinity Gate: Darkglass Mountain: Book Three - By Sara Douglass Page 0,105

said.

Isaiah nodded. “But of what kind?”

“I don’t know. But I do not like the fact that Eleanon allows us to approach so unharried. Why? He has the strength and the advantage. If I commanded a winged force of the magnitude of his I would have attacked many days before this. They have no reason to allow us so close to Elcho Falling, or to allow us to continue toward Elcho Falling.”

“Aye. I agree. What are you thinking?”

“I am thinking he wants us in Elcho Falling, or at least very, very close to it. I have no idea why, or what he has planned . . . ”

“Again, I agree,” Isaiah said. “And again I can see that you want to say more, so speak it.”

Axis sighed, playing for time as he ordered his thoughts. “I don’t think we should give Eleanon what he wants.”

“Explain.”

“I don’t think we should allow all of us to be herded into Elcho Falling.”

Isaiah nodded slowly, smiling. “I was going to suggest the very same thing.”

Now it was Axis who grinned. “Of course you were! You just wanted me to have the honour of suggesting it first!”

They both laughed, spending a moment pouring ale into mugs and sipping it.

“You want to remain outside?” Isaiah said to Axis.

“Yes. I had thought to keep a small force of men with me, but I think the Lealfast would spot us too easily. One man stands a chance of remaining hidden.”

“You’ll be spotted anyway,” said Isaiah. “The Lealfast have the advantage of flight.”

“Not necessarily,” Axis said. “I have an idea about that . . . but just imagine, Isaiah, how useful I could be outside Elcho Falling. I can sound out Kezial. Keep an eye on Eleanon. Be watchful. And we can keep in contact easily.”

Indeed, said Isaiah in Axis’ mind, so long as you don’t wander more than a day’s walk away.

One of Axis’ fingers tapped at the rim of his ale mug as he thought. “Isaiah . . . how helpful can those juit birds be?”

Isaiah chuckled. “Depends what you have in mind.”

“Can we speak to them?”

“In the morning, my friend. Now, tell me what it is you have planned.”

As Axis and Isaiah sat at their campfire, so Kezial and Eleanon stood at the edge of the Lealfast encampment, staring south.

“Isaiah isn’t far away,” Kezial said.

“Two days,” said Eleanon. “But I doubt he will march straight into our maws. Kezial .”

“Yes?”

“The Skraelings have vanished.”

“What?”

“Many days ago.”

“You made no mention of this.”

Eleanon shrugged, dismissing Kezial’s anger. “They were herding Isaiah and his army northward . . . and then one dawn my scouts reported the entire horde had vanished.”

“How could they just ‘vanish?”

Another shrug, and Kezial bit down a bitter retort. What else was Eleanon keeping from him?

Likely an entire “horde” of secrets.

“Can Skraelings just vanish?” he asked Eleanon.

“It is possible. Who knows what the One has done to them.” Eleanon paused, and Kezial sensed that Eleanon was now getting to the reason he had summoned Kezial.

“Isaiah is also travelling with a few million, give or take five or six, pink birds.”

Kezial gaped at him, unable for the moment to speak.

Eleanon turned his cold eyes on Kezial. “Do you know what these pink birds are?”

“Are they tall gangly things, long necks and legs, oversized beaks?”

“Yes. They apparently squabble a great deal. They arrived at Isaiah’s force just ahead of the Skraelings.”

Kezial’s mouth curved in a small smile. “Then they are most likely juit birds. They come from a lake to the south of Aqhat.”

Eleanon’s gaze grew more intense. “And what significance are the juit birds? For what reason do they attach themselves to Isaiah?”

“As for reason, I am guessing they escaped the Skraelings who —”

“But the Skraelings had left Isembaard, massing north.”

Kezial shrugged.

“What significance, then?” Eleanon said, his tone now growing as sharp as his eyes.

Kezial held his gaze steadily. “No significance. They are water birds, they squabble a great deal as you have said and they are truly terrible eating. I have no idea why they have attached themselves to Isaiah’s army, but if I were him I’d be truly irritated about it.”

“They’re trouble,” Eleanon said. “I can smell the stink of trouble about them.”

Kezial shrugged. “They are silly pink birds,” he said. “They have no significance at all beyond that, Eleanon.”

Later, when Kezial was alone in his tent, he spent long hours sitting at his camp table, staring at the moths fluttering about the bowl of the lamp.

Isaiah has the juit birds?

Kezial had been down to Lake