The Warlock is Missing wisoh-7

by Christopher Stasheff

  The Gallowglass children exchanged glances. 'Tis those minions of SPITE that Father hath told us of, Magnus thought.

  Aye, yet he did not know that they had come as seneschals, Geoffrey answered.

  Mayhap he did, but did not tell us, Gregory added.

  They shared a moment of indignation at the thought that their father might not keep them up-to-date on matters of state.

  Then Geoffrey turned to Alain. "Still, though, these counts are little threat, unless by hap they all attack together, and that when thy father's engaged in battle with this Shire-Reeve."

  "Even so," Alain said, "yet that is just what I fear."

  Gregory nodded. "The King is, after all, the greatest stumbling-block in each one's path. An he were defeated, each could seek to enlarge his own demesne without let or hindrance."

  "Save for their dukes," Alain said darkly, "and if Father were…" he swallowed. "… if Father were gone, the great lords most probably would whip their vassals right smartly into their places."

  "Aye, then march 'gainst each other," Magnus said, frowning, "and make one great turmoil out of our fair land."

  "And whiles they were battling one another, the Shire-Reeve would no doubt serve them as he would have served the King," Geoffrey added "battling one, while another doth attack from the rear—and, by the time the dukes did band against him, his army would have grown too great to defeat."

  "The fools!" Magnus cried. "Do they not see that, if they aid him now, this Reeve will presently reave them, one by one?"

  Alain stared. "Dost thou think he doth seek the throne?"

  "I am certain of it."

  "Yet how can he?" Alain protested. "He is of common birth, scarcely a gentleman!"

  "He doth see no bar in that," Magnus said. "Nay, for such an one, that is all the more reason to seek to rule!"

  Alain's eyes narrowed; his face darkened. "'Tis a vile churl, then, and doth deserve to be drawn and quartered!"

  Magnus nodded. "Such an one could rend this land asunder—for even an he did win to the throne, ever would barons rise up against him; they could never respect his right, sin that he hath not royal blood!"

  "Nor would any man honor him," said Cordelia, "for each commoner would think, 'He is lowborn, and hath won to the throne; wherefore should not I?' And one after another would rise up to challenge him."

  "The country would ever be rent in warfare," Alain groaned. "Never would there be peace!"

  "Yet that is just as this Shire-Reeve's masters do wish," little Gregory said.

  Alain stared. "What! How is this? Doth this miscreant have a master?"

  The Gallowglasses exchanged glances. "We cannot know that…" Magnus hedged.

  "Yet thou dost suspect it! Nay, tell me! To withhold thy good conjecture would be treason!"

  "Only an we guessed truly," Magnus sighed. "Yet we have cause to think this Shire-Reeve was set up by enemies of Papa, who do seek to plunge this whole land of Gramarye into chaos."

  Alain frowned. "Father hath never spoken of such."

  "Papa may not have spoken to him of it," Cordelia explained. "He is loathe to speak until he is certain."

  I would not quite say that is accurate, Fess's voice said in the Gallowglasses' minds.

  But Alain couldn't hear him, of course. He shook his head. "He should never withhold such suspicion—yet I can comprehend it; Father would tell Mother, and she is forever fretting about troubles that may come, but do not."

  "Yet the trouble hath come indeed," Geoffrey said, "and we do know of our own that Papa hath enemies of another sort—ones who do wish to steal thy parents' thrones, and rule Gramarye more harshly than ever they have."

  Alain stared. "Assuredly thy father must have spoken to Their Majesties of this—he must needs be certain of it!"

  "Mayhap he hath," Magnus said quickly, "but thy father hath not yet seen fit to tell thee. We all are yet young."

  "Mayhap," Alain agreed; but he glowered at the thought.

  "Yet here's a quandary," Cordelia interjected. "Did we not,'t'other night, hear one of those men say that the Shire-Reeve was one of their vassals?"

  The children stared at one another.

  Then Gregory nodded. "Aye, they did say so."

  "In point of fact," Fess reminded them, "they did not say it; Cordelia read it in their leader's mind. Her exact words were, I believe, 'Their thoughts leapt to the Shire-Reeve; he hath been their man for many years, and they have told him exactly what they wished him to do when the chance came.'"

  The children didn't quibble; they knew Fess always remembered everything exactly as it happened—Papa had used him to give evidence in family quarrels often enough.

  Alain frowned. "Yet how can that be? Didst thou not but now tell me the Shire-Reeve did have support from men who wished no rule at all?"

  "We did," Magnus verified, "and so we did believe. How now, my sibs? How can the man fight for both sides?"

  "Why, by fighting for neither!" Geoffrey cried in excite-ment. "He lets each believe he's their man—but in truth, he fights only for himself!"

  "Aye!" Alain caught his enthusiasm. "He doth play a dou-ble game, doth play them off 'gainst one another!"

  Geoffrey nodded, eyes glowing. "They believe they use him—but he truly seeks to use them, taking support from each, yet plotting in private to cut out both, root and branch, as soon as he doth have power!"

  "The very thing!" Cordelia concurred. "He could quite eas-ily deceive those who seek chaos, for he doth seem to be only one more ambitious fool, seeking to gain land by battle—and his ambitions are so great that he could equally deceive those who seek to rule all the land, and with an iron fist!"

  "Yet in truth," Magnus agreed, "he doth seek to gain the throne, not mere rule, and to beget kings—and this by deceit and craft, as much as by force of arms."

  Alain was trembling. "Of such stuff are kings made, I fear —though very evil kings."

  "This one shall not be a king," Geoffrey avowed. "Not of any sort."

  Gregory chirped, "Have we found our Great Nasty?"

  Chapter 16

  "We should take the left fork."

  Magnus halted, and Cordelia's unicorn who had appeared just as Cordelia needed her, stopped, unwilling to come too close to one of the boys. Fess stepped up behind Magnus, who frowned down at the younger boy. "Wherefore, Alain?"

  Alain scowled up at him, then shrugged. "It matters not. I am a prince, and I say it; therefore we should take the left."

  "Yet it may not be the wisest thing," Gregory demurred.

  "Hush, nutkin!" Alain said impatiently. "If a prince saith it, 'tis wise."

  "Mayhap we should discover where each goes," Cordelia suggested.

  "What need? I am a prince!"

  Geoffrey Had had enough. "Directly and to make no ado, your Highness—thou dost not yet command, nor need we yet obey."

  Alain rounded on him, furious. "Thou wilt head the Blood Royal!"

  "Heed it, aye. Obey it, nay."

  Alain drew back a fist, but Magnus caught it. "Be still, the pair of ye! Alain, when thou art grown, I will take thy commands, and gladly—but for now, I am eldest, and age is of greater import than rank."

  "But I am a prince!"

  "And I am the Puck!" boomed the resident elf. "The High Warlock and his wife have set me to govern their bairns in their absence, and I will—so an thou dost wish to accompany us, thou art welcome; but thou must needs mind thine elders!"

  Alain scuffed at the ground with a toe.

  "Even Robin will not bid us choose, when he knows not what lies at the end of each road," Cordelia said gently.

  Alain looked up at her with gratitude, and for a moment, his face softened, almost to the point of idiocy.

  Geoffrey saw, and smiled a cynical smile. "What! Wouldst thou heed a woman?"

  Alain turned on him, fists clenching and face thunderous.

  "So long as thou dost not heed my brother," Magnus murmured.

  Alain looked up
at him, startled, then smiled, his eyes glowing. "Thou hast ever the truth of the matter, Magnus!"

  Geoffrey glared, but just then Summer and Fall popped up from the left-hand fork, shaking their heads. "There's naught down that road save a woodcutter's cot."

  Puck queried. "How far didst thou pursue it?"

  "To its end—mayhap a league."

  Puck shrugged. "Let us hope Kelly hath found summat."

  Leaves rustled, and a green top hat popped up with Kelly under it.

  "Well come!" Puck cried. "What moves?"

  "Naught but an army or three," Kelly said with nonchalance.

  "At last!" Magnus sighed, but Puck demanded, "Whose?"

  "The Shire-Reeve's." Kelly grinned. "At the least, I think it be he, for his arms have no crest, and his soldiers, no livery. Nay, it must needs be he, for his horses are great, rangy beasts, straight from the plow, not fit for a knight."

  "What other armies are there?" Geoffrey asked.

  "The King's, but 'tis on the far side of the hill, and be-tween them lies a field of wheat."

  " 'Tis destined to become a field of battle," Geoffrey mut-tered.

  "And at his back lies a river—yet there are two fords for the crossing of it, and five counts' armies beyond. None have more than a half-dozen knights and a few hundred men-at-arms—yet together, they're a force to be reckoned with."

  "An they can fight in unity," Geoffrey added.

  "'Tis even so." Puck turned to Alain. "Well enough—we have found the enemy. From this time forth, matters may become exceedingly dangerous—and we cannot risk the heir apparent. Thou wilt go home!" He transferred his glare to Kelly. "And thou shalt accompany the Prince, to ward him!"

  "Nay!" cried Alain, and, "Niver, ye scoundrel! What! Would ye make a nanny of me?" howled Kelly.

  "I am not a baby," Alain said, glowering.

  "Nay, thou art nine now, and fully come into childhood. Yet thou art the heir!"

  "Yet I've a smaller brother at home!"

  " 'Tis for thy father to place thee at risk, not for me!"

  "But he'll never do so!"

  "Nay, he will—when he doth believe thou art a strong enough fighter. Yet that waits till thou art sixteen, lad, or older."

  "That is seven years!" Alain wailed.

  "Enjoy them whilst thou may," Puck advised him, "and I shall see thou art alive to do so. Now go to safety!"

  "Wherefore do they stay?" Alain pointed at the Gallow-glasses.

  "For that they are in my care, and must stay where I do— and for that they've no parents to be sent home to. Fear not—I'll keep them as safe as thou wilt be."

  "Oh, nay!" Geoffrey protested, but Alain bawled, "'Tis not fair!"

  "Nay, but 'tis merciful. Go now to thy mother!"

  "I'll not take him!" Kelly declared. "My place is here, with the witch-children!"

  "Thy place is wheresoe'er the Hobgoblin doth send thee. What, elf! Wilt thou question the King of Elves?"

  "He is not here," Kelly snapped.

  "Nay, but he hath given this brood into my care—and wilt command as I do: that the Heir have guard to his parent!"

  "'Tis thou dost say it, not he," Kelly grumbled; but he seemed wary now.

  "Shall I ask it of him, then? Nay, thou canst reach to him as quickly as I! Shall we go? 'Tis but a matter of minutes, for elves."

  Kelly glowered at him, but didn't speak.

  Puck held his gaze level, fists on hips, waiting.

  Finally, Kelly snapped, "Well enough, then! It shall be as thou dost say!"

  Puck smiled. "Brave elf!" He turned back to Alain. "And wilt thou, too, be as worthy?"

  "Where is the worth in retreat?" Alain burst out. "Wouldst thou have me flee from danger?"

  "Aye, till thou art grown. What! Must I summon His Elfin Majesty to command thee, too?"

  "He may not! I am Prince of Gramarye!"

  "And he is a king, who may by right command a prince— yet his power's within himself, not his army, and can be wielded on the moment. Wilt thou go to thy home for safety,

  or wilt thou be kept on a lily pad?"

  "Thou canst not afright me thus!" Alain declared, but he looked less certain than he sounded. "Attempt it, then—and answer to my father for what thou hast done to the Royal Heir!"

  Puck reddened, and his voice fell to a deadly quiet. "Wilt thou go, or must I send word to the Queen?"

  "Mummy is fifty miles distant!" Alain wailed.

  "Aye, yet thy father's but half a league onward—and so is his belt."

  Alain glared at Puck for a moment longer, but finally could not hold it. He collapsed with a sigh. "Even so, then. I shall go."

  Puck nodded, but showed no sign of victory. He turned to Kelly and said, "Guide him, elf. And see thou he doth come to his parent ere morn!"

  When darkness enveloped the forest glade, Puck moved silently among the sleeping children, shaking them and murmuring, "Wake. The moon is up, as thou must be, also."

  One by one, they sat up, stretching and yawning.

  "I could sleep the night through," Geoffrey sighed.

  "Do so, then!" said Magnus. "Puck and I will suffice to tend to this Shire-Reeve."

  "Nay," Geoffrey said quickly. "I am fully awakened."

  Cordelia lay nestled against the unicorn, who lay on her side, tummy against the girl's back. Now she sat up, blinking, cuddling Gregory against her. That meant the little boy had to sit up, too, but as soon as he did, his eyes sagged shut again.

  "Do thy best to waken him," Puck advised. "Thou two must be most alert, when we do return."

  Cordelia kissed Gregory on the forehead and gave him a little shake, murmuring, "Waken thou, mannikin." Little Brother lifted his head, blinking; then his eyelids closed, and so did hers. Cordelia shook her head and turned to Puck. "He shall be wakeful, when thou dost return."

  Puck nodded and said, "Keep safe, then. Fairies do watch thee." He turned to Magnus and Geoffrey, "Let us go. I have been to the Shire-Reeve's tent already, and long did I wait till he ceased his work with parchments, and lay down to steep; yet now he doth slumber, and I've deepened his sleep with a spell."

  Magnus nodded. "Aye, let us away."

  Puck caught their hands and nodded. All three disappeared. With a boom, air rushed in to fill the space where they'd been.

  Two young men stood guard at the door to the Shire-Reeve's tent. One had been a member of the Reeve's trained band of armed men for several years; the other was a raw recruit, a shepherd boy, who kept watching his veteran partner closely, trying to imitate him, holding his pitchfork the same way the constable held his pike.

  Something exploded inside the tent. The two men whirled about, staring. They heard the Shire-Reeve cry out, then heard the explosion again. The two men stared at each other in alarm, then crashed together as they both tried to jam through the tent flap at the same time.

  They tumbled in, weapons at the ready, staring about them wildly.

  "Hold up the tent flap," the veteran barked.

  The shepherd turned and yanked the flap high. Moonlight streamed in, enough to show them the Shire-Reeve's cot, empty.

  In the forest glade, the two boys appeared with a thunder-crack, a full-grown man held horizontally between them. His feet dropped to the ground, and he thrashed his way upright, shaking off the boys' hands. "Witchcraft! Vile dwarves, who…"

  He broke off, staring at the small figure confronting him, only as high as his knee, but with a very stony look on his face. "Thou, who dost nail up Cold Iron over every door, and dost never leave milk for the brownies," Puck grated, "wilt now face the Puck!"

  While the Shire-Reeve stood silent for just that one moment, Cordelia, in the shadows, stared at the quarterstaff that lay hidden in the grass. It leaped up and cracked into the Shire-Reeve's head. He fell like a pole-axed steer.

  The Shire-Reeve awoke, frowning against a splitting headache. He tried to sit up, but couldn't lift his arms to support himself. In sudden panic, he thrashed about, tryi
ng to move his hands and legs, but found they were lashed securely together, with the arms bound tightly to his sides. He looked about him, panting, wild-eyed, and saw four children of varying sizes, gazing down at him. A shadow moved behind them; he recognized it for a huge black warhorse with glowing eyes, and a chill ran down his back. Then something stepped up beside the horse into a patch of moonlight, and he saw a silver head with a long, straight horn spearing out from the forehead —and centering on him. The chill spread into his belly, and turned into dread.

  "Look down," suggested a deep voice.

  The Shire-Reeve did, and turned completely cold. There, in front of the children, stood a foot-and-a-half-high elf with blood in his eye.

  "Be honored," the mannikin grated. "Few mortals ever do see the Puck."

  The Shire-Reeve lay stiffly, panting, wide-eyed. Frantically, he strove to compose himself, to collect his thoughts.

  "I know thee," Puck said. "Thou art Reginald, son of Turco, who was squire to Sir Bartolem—and thou dost call thyself 'squire' too, though thou hast no right to it, sin that thou hast never borne a knight's armor, nor cared for his horse."

  The middle-sized boy started at that, then glared down at the man.

  The Shire-Reeve nodded, trying to slow his breathing. He swallowed and said, "Aye." He swallowed again and said, "Then the Wee Folk are real."

  As real as thou, but with a deal more sense," Puck said with sarcasm. "We do not make spectacles of ourselves, flaunting our power for all men to admire—or women, in thy case."

  Reginald's face darkened. He was glad of the anger he felt; it helped restore him to himself.

  Puck nodded toward the children behind him and said, "I can see in thine eyes that thou dost dismiss these children as being of no consequence. Thou art a fool; they are the High Warlock's brood."

  Reginald stiffened, staring from one little face to another.

  Puck nodded. "Aye, thou hast cause to fear them. They will have little mercy for the man who did kidnap their parents."

  "I did not!" Reginald cried. "Who saith this of me? 'Tis a false lie!" And it was, in a way—he had only spoken with those odd scrawny men with the gaunt faces and the wild looks in their eyes, telling them that the King was a tyrant, and so was Earl Tudor and even Count Glynn. He had claimed to believe all the noblemen were, and had sworn he wished to destroy them all, letting the people live freely on their own, with none to oppress them. And the odd men had smiled, eyes glittering, and promised to aid him in any way they could— they were wizards, after all, and owned a kind of magic that few witches knew of.