by Andre Norton
Obern's relief, he did not look irritated though his manner was brusque.
"What is so important?" Royance said. "We have made the decision with your people—have you some second demand, then?"
Obern had no idea what this meant. His anger had control of his tongue and he blurted it out his errand as bluntly as any Sea-Rover might. "It's Ashen, sir.
Lady Ashen. She's been taken, and by what was seen, it's the King's doing!"
Royance's snowy eyebrows rose. He gestured to the chairs by the fireplace. "What kind of a moil is this, boy?" The door opened and the steward re-entered with a tray on which were a flask and two goblets. "Ah, excellent. Warmed wine. The good vintage—not what we're serving below. Drink. This will do you good, I promise." With a wave of his hand, Royance dismissed the servant and poured for both.
Reluctantly, Obern took the goblet the nobleman handed him and sipped. Royance had been right, he discovered. The hot beverage seemed to touch a spot that had been icy ever since Obem had heard the maid's story. He strove to control himself, to push back his anger—and his fear. "Thank you, sir. I apologize for my lack of manners, but you must know that I am relatively new-come to Rendel and—"
"Yes, yes, I know all that. Now, tell me what is important. You say Lady Ashen has been taken? And by the King? What kind of tangled tale is this?"
Obem repeated the maid's story, including the information that the abductors had boldly worn King's livery.
"Are you sure of the truth of this claim?" There was a snap in the old noble's question.
"She seemed very sure, sir. Royal livery is hard to mistake."
And so it was, unless the witness was blind. Deep red the uniforms were, and badged by a bear standing erect, on a background of oak leaves, all circled with the motto, Strength Prevails. Obern shifted in his chair, fighting a desperate desire for immediate action. Useless questions would only delay matters.
"All the Court guards and servants would be clad so," Royance said. He might have been musing to himself. Irritatingly, he was— as far as Obern was concerned—not the least bit alarmed. "Five of them, did you say?"
"So the maidservant said. She was in great fear for her lady."
Royance was silent long enough for Obern to drain his goblet of the heated liquid. Then the older man stirred. "It is good that you came to me, young
Obern."
"When I first met you, at Count Harous's keep the night the old King died, I knew you for a man of honor," Obern said. He still seethed to be out doing something. It was hard for a man of action to maintain control among these too-tranquil courtiers.
"Aye, honor binds me, and I fear you have brought me word of less than honorable deeds. The King is here, to be seen with his new bride. However, that does not prevent any issuing of orders so his greatest rival"—Royance put a slight but unmistakable emphasis on the words—"be taken away in secret, that she might be dealt with later."
Obern's hand went again to his sword hilt. He did not dare ask in what manner
Ashen would be "dealt with." Instead, he set his goblet on the tray and tried to assume a confidence fast being warped away. "Then we must bring her back," he said. "I mean, I must bring her back. I understand that you, as Head of the
Council, could not afford to involve yourself in opening such a coil."
"You have a good head, young Obern. No, I could not because part of my influence rests upon my being impartial to all. I can offer you no open help. But what I can do is make as good as guess as I can, as to where the lady has been taken."
"Only give me a direction, and I will find her." Just let him get started! He was all but in the saddle already.
"It is best to believe that Florian has ordered her taken to a remote hold, well away from any of his other known haunts. Certainly not to the deserted
Oakenkeep. Instead, he may well have had her taken to a certain hunting lodge, which, if rumor is to be believed, he has used for similar questionable projects in the past."
Obern swallowed hard, dreading the next question. Still, he must ask it. "Do—do you think she will be harmed?"
"I do not believe her in immediate danger," Royance said. Despite his reassurance, a trace of frown showed between his brows. "If I know our new
King—and I have known him, from the time he could toddle—any plans for the lady are not yet decided beyond the fact that he wants her out of his sight and that of the Court. He can't be planning what you fear—dishonor. She is, after all, his half-sister. If he intended her death, he would have ordered an assassin—not a company of five men to subdue one slight girl instead. Therefore, if he intends her harm or disgrace ultimately, he also intends to be witness when it happens. No, the Lady Ashen is safe enough. But I would not tarry on the road."
Obern was already on his feet. "I will ride out at once, as soon as I can find a horse."
For the first time, Royance smiled slightly. "I think you might want to change clothes first."
Obern glanced down at the samite-and-velvet wedding garments and his face grew hot. "Yes, sir, I forgot I—I mean, I was in such a—" He stopped in confusion.
Royance's smile widened. "Never mind, young Obem. Believe it or not, I was in love once, too. Now. Can you read a map?"
"Yes, sir. All Sea-Rovers learn the art."
"Good. I will show you a map—I cannot give it to you, as I'm sure you must understand—showing you the location of the King's very private hunting lodge.
You will have to memorize it and then convey the information to your companions.
Oh, yes"—Royance held up a cautionary hand—"you must take with you a force at least equal to those who abducted Lady Ashen. To do otherwise would be romantic and heroic, to be sure, but also utter folly. This is a matter for planning, and force to meet force."
Obern bit back a hot retort. The old noble was correct. "You are wise in the ways of men," he said. "Indeed, I had pictured myself bursting in and snatching
Ashen away—"
"And riding off with her on your saddlebow," Royance finished, a little wryly.
"Believe me, young Obern, she will be no less grateful if you do not manage to get yourself killed in the attempt. Listen to me, and learn thereby."
"Yes, sir."
Then Royance arose and took a map of Rendel from a long drawer. He spread it out as Obern came to view it. "Here," he said, pointing to a dot on the map, hidden in a fold of what had to be mountains. "From this spot our late King used to hunt, and even fish in the nearby streams. Later, Florian used it as a hideaway where he and his current light-o'-love could cavort in privacy. At least, such privacy as could be found with a royal guard just outside."
Obern was already thinking of whom he could enlist to accompany him. Dordan, the archer, and Kather and Iaobim. These would be enough, against mere Rendelians.
All three of these men had been with him at other times, when there had been trouble brewing, and were to be depended upon. He moved one of the nearby candles closer and studied the map, imprinting each detail upon his memory.
Though Florian might not be planning Ashen's dishonor, there was nothing to suggest that his servants might not attempt such. "If the lodge is the place where they have taken Ashen, rest assured that I will find it," he said. "And if she is there, I will bring her back." Without being fully aware of what he was doing, Obern drew his sword a hand's-breadth from the scabbard and drove it back with a sound that echoed in the room.
Half an hour later, before the first hints of a chill and gloomy dusk were beginning to veil the western sky, Obern and his three men were hurrying across the river bridge beyond the city. A little beyond this, the road heading west branched, and Obern turned that way.
"Cart tracks," Iaobim said. He leaned forward in his saddle to view the dusty road. "Theirs, do you think?"
"Wouldn't they have horses?" Kather asked. "A cart would slow them."
"There are horse-tracks, off to the side. They'd use a cart for a prisoner, seems like,
" Iaobim said. "And especially if the lady was trussed up."
"Any chance of us overtaking them soon?" Obern was watching the sky dubiously.
"Not likely." Iaobim squinted upward as well. "We can make better time than a cart, but they can travel better after dark than we can. They must know the road, and we can't risk laming a horse if he stumbles over something like that."
He pointed at one of many big rocks littering the way ahead. "Road's not kept up well. Looks like it's not been used, except for these tracks."
"If we must cut speed, at least take care," Obern said, teeth gritted. He urged his mount forward. "We've still got a few hours of daylight to our aid. Make the most of it."
The men with him nodded grimly. All were dressed warmly in thick wool with fur-lined cloaks drawn over their familiar chain mail, and Obern had another set of similar garments packed in saddlebags for Ashen when she was rescued. The men quickened their pace as much as they dared, but it was rough going. Full night had closed about before they reached a spot where the road became better. If
Obern read the signs correctly, the ill-kept road behind them was a ruse to discourage any uninvited visitors when the King was at his pleasures. "We must be getting close." He kept his voice low.
"Aye. Wasn't that a flash of light just between those trees?" Dordan had loosened his bow. "Good thing there's a moon tonight so we can see where we're going."
They dismounted and tethered the horses loosely so the animals could crop grass as they would. Then they began to advance as noiselessly as possible in the direction where Dordan had spotted the telltale light.
Dordan had been correct. Cautiously, they reached the brush wall of a clearing.
Beyond, in the open, stood what could only be the lodge. Obern knew at once the expectable layout, from a visit to one such establishment belonging to Count
Harous. There would be one good-sized common room on the ground level, and four small bedrooms above. Probably only a single door, but possibly another to the rear, leading to a second small building used as a kitchen. This pattern depended on how much state the King chose to keep when he visited here. By the looks and size of the place, it was meant for the most-limited occupancy. The chimney indicated a large fireplace, where game could be roasted. A lantern candle shone in one window, and in the still air, they could hear men's voices arguing.
"I say we do what we please with the wench," one of them said.
"Not without the King's saying so, we can't. Can't you get it through your thick head this one's special, for him to go to all this trouble?"
"Stupid, she's the King's sister. Half-sister anyway. He sure didn't have her brought here for any games. At least not his personal self, that is."
A fourth voice spoke up, deeper, holding a note of authority. "Wouldn't matter to the King, the way his mind sets these days." Obern's hand went again to his sword hilt and he nearly drew it but stopped just in time. The ring of steel would have given them away immediately. He swallowed hard, to force down bile.
"But we keep in mind it's him as calls the tune. We just hold her here until he comes. That's our orders."
There was some general grousing from within, but no real argument. Then, unmistakably, Ashen's voice, hoarse but with no real quaver of fear.
"If you know what's good for you, you'll take me back to the city at once!" she said.
"And who's to make us?" Deep Voice wanted to know. "Nobody even knows you're gone, m'lady."
"Plenty of people ivill miss me," Ashen replied defiantly. "It won't take long for them to discover what's happened."
"Even if they do," Deep Voice said, "they won't know which direction to come looking." He sounded a little amused.
"So? While we are waiting to see just who will come, you might see to a fire.
I'm not dressed for this venture. Also, I want some water. I've been eating dust too long, no thanks to you."
"Saucy wench. Very well. You, Nigal, go get some water. There's a well out yonder. Savros, build a fire. His Majesty wouldn't be pleased if his dear sister got chilblains." Deep Voice laughed at his own wit.
Obern glanced at his companions. They nodded in turn. They didn't need to be warned that as easily as the guardsmen's voices carried in the chill, still air, any noise those outside made would be as audible to enemy ears. Dordan carefully nocked an arrow to his bowstring. The well that Deep Voice had mentioned lay between where the Sea-Rovers lay hidden, and the main door to the lodge. Obern leaned closer to Kather. "See if there's a back door," he breathed.
Kather nodded and immediately began working his way through the shadows, disappearing around the corner of the lodge. He had no sooner gotten out of sight before Nigal came out, pail in hand. He began to work the windlass on the well. It creaked loudly—-not good for those in wait. If that noise stopped too suddenly it would alert those within. But it did serve to cover Kather's movements, so he could go about his errand more rapidly than if he had to watch his step and avoid every twig in the path. Dordan bided his time, waiting until
Nigal had finished drawing a bucket of water to the lip of the well, and had poured the contents into the pail. A night bird hooted; at that sound, the archer let fly his arrow and the King's man toppled to the ground and did not stir again.
Obern moved forward. In a few economical movements, he had snapped the arrow short, stripped off the man's scarlet livery coat, and pulled it over his own head. With any luck, when he went through the door those inside would hesitate for a fatal moment, thinking it was only their returning comrade. Then he nodded to Dordan and Iaobim. The bowman slung his favored weapon and, with Iaobim, drew sword.
As Obern fumbled with the bucket, making as much racket as he could while returning it to the well, the two men moved forward to take up positions on either side of the door. Then Obern left the pail where it was and returned up the path. He drew his sword, took a deep breath, and sent the door flying open with a well-placed kick. One man knelt at the fireplace, flint and steel already laid aside, feeding kindling to the flames. Two others stood watching. The fourth, probably Deep Voice, hovered near Ashen. For one dangerous moment, Obern allowed himself to look at her. Face pale, deep circles underlining her eyes, her white wedding garments rumpled, soiled and torn, nevertheless she was as beautiful as a fabled Seamaid in that instant.
Obem uttered a war-cry and charged straight for Deep Voice.
Dordan and Iaobim rushed to engage the two idlers and take them down. Savros leapt up and hurled himself between his leader and Obern. Precious moments were wasted before the Sea-Rover had cut him down. But by that time, Deep Voice had his hands on Ashen. One arm pressed her to his muscular body, and with his other hand, he held a dagger to her throat.
"So. Now what do we do, youngling?" Deep Voice said, surprisingly genial. "How did you track us? Never mind, it isn't important. It is all simple enough now.
You come a step closer, and this lady dies. Oh, you can kill me then, of course, but what good will it do?"
This kind of man Obern knew well. There were fighting men in plenty, loyal to the man they served, who would be prepared to follow through on such a threat.
Outnumbered as he was, still he represented a danger to them all.
"And you there, with the bow. Don't even think about using it. The lady would be dead long before you could let iy." Deep Voice dragged Ashen to her feet and, without shifting the dagger from her throat, moved with her toward the table. "I am Lathrom, sergeant in His Majesty's private guards. And you?"
"Obern, of the Sea-Rovers. With my friends."
"I've heard of you." Lathrom forced Ashen into a chair at the table. "So. Since we now have a situation where neither side can win, what do you say we talk about it?"
"What do you say we don't?" Kather stepped into the room behind him.
Even a hardened veteran like Lathrom could be taken by surprise. Instinctively he looked around, startled by the appearance of yet another enemy from an unexpected quarter. Obern launched
himself unhesitatingly at the sergeant. The sheer momentum of his attack carried the both of them clear across the room to slam into the far wall. The sergeant took the brunt of it. Obern rolled over onto Lathrom, pinning him, and by the time his opponent had shaken his head clear, all three of Obern's companions were standing over them, swords drawn and ready.
"On the contrary, Kather/' Obern said, panting slightly and allowing himself to grin. "We really should talk about the situation. Don't you agree, Sergeant?"
"I yield," Lathrom said. "Oh, you can take my word on it. I know when I'm overmatched."
Obern cautiously got to his feet and, after a moment, so did Lathrom. With great care, and making no sudden movements, the sergeant unbuckled his sword-belt and dropped it. His dagger was gone already, having been knocked flying when Obern tackled him. "Find the dagger," Obem said.
