The púca sighed and relayed, “I have a secret talent. I’m telepathetic.”
Sidheag disdainfully chided, “If you mean telepathic, like the Cloudmare, I doubt it!”
Cupid rubbed small hoof along the thin orange moss and repeated, “No, I’m telepathetic!”
Sidheag laughed derisively and drew some confused gazes from the beleaguered Drelves.
Oilill questioned his friend, “Cupid, we don’t have time to waste. What do you mean?”
Cupid reiterated, “Telepathetic! I’m púca! I have the ability to project feelings of distressing inadequacy upon others. They’ll feel pitiful or scorned, depending on the situation. I’ve used it on occasion to get out of a jam. It’s gotten me out of Aulgmoor once or twice. My victims don’t realize I’m the one fomenting the trouble.”
Sidheag grumbled, “What a pathetic talent, no joke intended. How’d that help us now?”
The púca suggested, “I thought I’d lower the Drolls’ morale a bit.”
Oilill replied, “How many can you influence? There’s too many of them!”
Cupid answered, “I don’t know how many or how far I can reach. I know I bamboozled three Kiennish Protectors in the General’s dining room. I’ll do what I can.”
The púca furrowed his cherubic brow and concentrated. The big Droll Maxim who stood about a hundred paces away tilted his head once or twice and shook his flowing mane. Maxim then looked upward and wailed mournfully.
Thirty paces behind Maxim the Droll Lieutenant Val looked at his stalwart colleague perplexed and said, “I think Maxim feels bad.”
The Droll warrior Davilano stood next to Val and replied, “I think I feel bad, too.”
Val followed, “Come to think of it, so do I.”
Davilano and Val began a chorus of wails. Soon dozens of nearby Droll warriors joined in and howled despondently. The gloomy chorale spread over the meadow. Kiennish archers threw down their bows and cried. General Saligia witnessed the spectacle and groaned, “What the ****!”
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