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the men who’d been on board. ‘This is the one I’ve been telling you about, Omago,’ Veltan said, putting his hand on Rabbit’s shoulder. ‘If you tell him what you need, I’m sure he’ll be able to hammer whatever it is out of metal.’

      ‘I hope so,’ Omago replied, looking at the little man Veltan called Rabbit. ‘Veltan came by a while back,’ he told the Maag, ‘and he told me what was happening in his sister’s Domain. Then he gave me a knife to show me what he was talking about when he used the word “metal”. I got to thinking about it, and it seemed to me that if I lashed the knife to the front end of a long pole, it might make a fairly useful tool when we come up against the creatures of the Wasteland.’

      ‘We call those tools “spears”, Omago,’ Rabbit said, ‘and they’ve been around for a long, long time.’

      ‘Really? I sort of thought that I’d come up with the idea all by myself. We don’t know all that much about wars, though.’

      ‘This one’s very quick, Rabbit,’ the young Trogite Keselo said. ‘If he’s never seen a spear or even heard about one, it seems that he invented it right on the spot.’

      ‘It does sort of look that way, doesn’t it?’ Rabbit agreed with a slight frown. ‘If you come up with any more of these ideas, Omago, describe them to me. Then I’ll hammer one out and we’ll see how it works. How did the idea of the spear come to you?’

      Omago shrugged. ‘I’ve got an extensive orchard, and I use a long pole with a crosspiece tied to the tip to pull down the higher limbs so that I can pick the fruit without climbing up the tree. I was standing there with the knife in one hand and the pole in the other, and the notion of putting them together sort of popped into my head.’

      ‘Any time you hear one of those “pops”, let me know about it,’ Rabbit said.

      ‘Some skiffs are coming in,’ the tall archer Longbow said. ‘Sorgan, Narasan, and a few of the others will be here soon.’

      ‘Good,’ Veltan said. ‘We’ve got work to do, and we haven’t got much time.’

      Omago was more than a little surprised by the hulking Maags. He’d never seen people so tall before, and the assorted metal weapons they had hanging from their belts were quite intimidating. The Trogites were shorter and somewhat darker, but they were also well-armed.

      Then Omago saw Yaltar trailing somewhat to the rear with a beautiful lady who was almost certainly Veltan’s sister Zelana, and perhaps an even more beautiful little girl, who was obviously Zelana’s Dreamer, Eleria.

      Ara rushed down toward the water and embraced the boy, and Yaltar clung to her as if something terrible had recently happened.

      ‘Nice country, Veltan,’ a Trogite with silver-touched hair at his temples observed.

      ‘Thank you, Narasan,’ Veltan replied. ‘Where’s Gunda?’

      ‘I sent him on back to Castano to bring the rest of the army here,’ the Trogite replied. ‘I’m hoping that the open channel through the ice is still there.’

      ‘It is,’ Veltan assured him. ‘Did you run into any problems on the way here?’

      ‘No, the only problems we encountered cropped up before we set sail. Red-Beard’s tribe wasn’t very happy when he told them that he’d be gone for a while. His elevation to the rank of chief was fairly recent, and he’s been quite open about his dislike for the whole idea. They’re convinced that he seized on the idea of sailing south as a means of escape. There’s a lady in his tribe named Planter, and she said some very uncomplimentary things to him before we left.’

      ‘Just let it lie, Narasan,’ the red-bearded fellow who’d come ashore from the sloop growled.

      ‘Just trying to explain a few things, Red-Beard,’ Narasan replied. ‘My employer has a right to know about these little squabbles, wouldn’t you say?’

      Red-Beard turned and stalked away, muttering to himself.

      ‘This is Omago, Commander,’ Veltan said. ‘I’ve known him since he was a little boy, and the other farmers and the shepherds all seem to bring their problems to him.’

      ‘He’s quite gifted, Commander,’ Keselo reported. ‘Veltan brought him an iron knife to show him what the word “metal” really means, and he turned right around and invented the spear.’

      ‘The spear’s been around for centuries, Keselo,’ a very thin Trogite scoffed.

      ‘Not around here, it hasn’t, Jalkan. The farmers around here don’t even know what the word “war” means, so they’ve never needed weapons of any kind. Omago refers to his spear as a “tool”. That suggests an entirely different sort of mind, wouldn’t you say?’

      ‘The other farmers were quite impressed when Omago showed them his spear, Commander Narasan,’ Veltan said, ‘and they’d really like to have spears of their own.’

      ‘What does a farmer need a spear for?’ the thin Trogite Jalkan demanded with a faint sneer.

      ‘That’s about enough of that, Jalkan,’ Commander Narasan said very firmly.

      ‘It’s a legitimate question, Commander,’ Veltan said. ‘I’d mentioned that our enemies are part bug, and some accounts of the war in Zelana’s Domain drifted across the border between our two Domains, and Omago heard a few references to “bug-men”. Any time a farmer hears the word “bug”, he starts to feel very belligerent. A swarm of locusts can devour a whole year’s crop in less than a day. After Omago had shown the other farmers his spear, they sort of volunteered to join us in the upcoming war.’

      ‘If we showed them how to form a phalanx, they could be very useful, couldn’t they, Commander?’ the young soldier Keselo suggested.

      ‘They might at that,’ Narasan agreed. ‘They’d need shields, though.’

      ‘What’s a shield?’ Omago asked the commander.

      ‘It’s a metal plate we strap to our left arms. We use it to protect our bodies from enemy weapons.’

      ‘Sorgan’s coming, sir,’ Keselo advised.

      ‘Good.’ Narasan looked at Veltan. ‘Where do you think we should set up our camp?’ he asked.

      ‘That’s something I wanted to talk over with you, Commander,’ Veltan replied. ‘I don’t want to offend you, but it seems to me that we might want to keep your army – and Sorgan’s as well – on board your ships. Your men are well-disciplined, but Sorgan’s Maags—? Well, I’m sure you get my point.’

      ‘It’s crystal clear, Veltan. Peacetime brings out the worst in the Maags.’

      ‘We’ll be moving up to the Falls of Vash before long anyway,’ Veltan continued, ‘so setting up a temporary camp would just be a waste of time and labor. My people have been gathering food for your armies, and I’ll have them bring it here to the beach. In the meantime, I’ll take you and Sorgan and some of the others to my house to have a look at my map. I filched Rabbit’s idea of a lumpy picture, so you’ll be able to get some idea of the terrain near the falls. My big brother’s Dreamer said that we’ll be fighting this war up there, so you’ll need to be familiar with the territory.’

      A towering Maag came up from the water’s edge to join them. ‘The country around here looks a lot flatter than it was off to the West, Narasan,’ he said, ‘and there aren’t so many trees.’

      ‘That doesn’t hurt my feelings too much, Sorgan,’ Narasan replied. ‘Fighting a war in the bushes irritates me. This is Omago. He’s sort of in charge here.’

      ‘The chief, you mean?’

      ‘We’re a little less formal here, Sorgan,’ Veltan said. ‘Omago doesn’t give orders to the other farmers. He makes suggestions sometimes, but that’s about as far as it goes.’

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