“Please,” he said. “Listen. Or kill me if you wish. I am Alizonder. The others are disguised, as this little one said.”
“Alizonder? What are you doing with the others, if you are one of the enemy?”
“My name is Talgar. I befriended one of the Haglets—I mean, the Witch-children, on the way to Alizon City.”
Yareth tightened his grip on his sword. “You stole my child—”
“I was under the orders of Baron Esguir, Alizon's Master of Hounds. It is death to disobey. I risked much, even doing what little I was able to do. Could you have done as much, dared to defy your commanding officer?”
The thin white dog in the arms of another of the Alizonders spoke up. “It's true, Papa. He was very good to us on the way. He's trying to help us now!”
The bizarre prospect of an animal using his daughter's voice was too much for Yareth. He brushed at his eyes with the back of the hand that held the dagger. He had begun to tremble slightly. Eirran found the situation far easier to accept, perhaps because of her own recent experience with shape-changing.
“It's a trick to fool us into giving up! The Hounds are using magic!” With a muffled exclamation of disgust, Weldyn started to shove past them.
“No, wait!” Eirran cried. “Look, Weldyn, Yareth! That Hound—I mean, child—is it really Jenys? It is! She has the Witch Jewel around her neck!”
Weldyn stopped abruptly. “By the Great Falcon! The woman is right! But it could still be a trick. They could have taken it from her. How came you by that bauble, dog?”
“Becauth we gave it to her,” another of the hounds said. “We all tried to make it work, but it wouldn't do anything for anybody but Mouth.” Then it giggled.
In spite of herself, Eirran began to laugh as well. Relief and the absurdity of their situation made her giddy. “Nobody—not even the most careful magic-worker in all of Alizon—would think to make one of the hounds, the children, whatever they are, nobody would make one of them lisp. Oh, how wonderful—hic!—how perfect! We went to rescue them, and they wind up rescuing us!”
“Stop it, Eirran,” Yareth said. “Don't get hysterical on us.”
Both Falconers stared at the impossible assortment ranged before them—Alizonder, Estcarpian Guardsmen in the guise of Alizonder, Witch-children wearing the forms of thin white dogs. “Well, what is it to be?” Weldyn said finally. “Are we to be turned into Hounds as well?”
“If this little one has the strength to do it.” Talgar laid his hand on hound-Cricket's head. The dog form danced a little, tongue out, claws clicking on the stone floor. The Jewel on hound-Jenys's neck gave off faint sparks of blue light in the gloom. “If the Witch-children can't manage to include you in their illusion, we'll just march you out of the castle, pretending that you're our prisoners. Off to let the dogs chase you. It's one of the things we do to captives.”
Yareth found his voice. “You—you seem to have thought of everything.”
“We couldn't have done it if the children hadn't turned us invisible and gotten us as far as the outer ward,” said the “Alizonder” who held hound-Jenys. Eirran recognized Dunnis's voice.
“That wath me.”
“Oh, quit bragging, Lisper,” hound-Cricket said.
“Well, it wath.”
“You did it through Mouse and the Jewel and you know it!”
“Argue it out later,” Talgar said. “Come, lady. Sirs. Whether you go as a Hound or in your own guise, you must leave quickly. The Ha—The Witch-children can't keep up their illusion forever.”
The Falconers and Eirran moved forward to join the others. Hound-Janys struggled to sit up in Dunnis's arms. “Newbold!” she cried. “He's been hurt!”
“We can't do anything about it until we get out of the city,” Weldyn said harshly. “Sharpclaw can fly, but how do you propose to disguise the other falcon?”
“Don't let Sharpclaw fly away,” hound-Star said. The dog—no, the child—spoke with such ridiculously calm self-possession that Eirran had to stifle an urge to laugh again. She hiccupped instead. “Someone is bound to see. They might figure out that we've escaped.”
“What then?” Yareth's face was haggard. He took Newbold back from Eirran and stroked him so gently Eirran's heart broke for him.
“We're giving all our strength and powers to Mouse, and she's channeling it through the Jewel,” hound-Star went on. “What do you think, Mouse? Can you change them? We could disguise the birds as puppies.”
“I think so. Everybody, let's try.”
Even in the disjointed strangeness that had surrounded the Estcarpians since the moment they had found the children, the sight was weird enough to make Eirran stop hiccupping. All six of the “dogs” came to attention and turned their gaze toward the Falconers and Eirran. As they stared, concentrating, Eirran saw thin lines of faint blue light begin to form between them, like a web of power linking one to another. She shook her head, positive that she had begun to hallucinate. The strands of light grew brighter, though their glow did nothing to alleviate the gloom of the passageway. Then, with a rush that made the Witch Jewel flare into brief brilliance, the power-web concentrated and focused. It shot out and enveloped the three humans and two birds. Eirran and Yareth staggered and nearly fell, and Weldyn took a step backward. A faint, scorched smell drifted through the corridor.
“Is that it?” Weldyn examined his hand. “I'm not any different.”
“You won't seem so, to your own eyes,” Eirran said.
Yareth turned to look at them. “You are both changed,” he said.
“And you appear to hold a puppy in your arms.” Eirran touched Newbold's head gently.
Weldyn looked at the “puppy” that, incongruously, perched on his gloved fist. “Now I believe,” he said, and spoke to Sharpclaw in falconsong. With much coaxing, Sharpclaw allowed himself to be held much as Yareth was holding the wounded Newbold. To Eirran's relief, Newbold, in his disguised form, did not appear injured, nor did he resist being carried. There was no blood; the “puppy” looked as if it were merely asleep.
“Well, let's go,” the older Falconer said gruffly. “Sharpclaw won't put up with this for very long.”
“He won't have to,” Hirl said. “Just until we get outside the city walls, and beyond Alizonder sentries’ sight.”
“The sooner we're out of Alizonder form and back into our own, the better, I say. And you, woman, keep your mouth shut. Your voice isn't changed this time, and if you begin to babble like women do, you'll betray us all.”
III
Trying to hide the tension they all were feeling, the Estcarpians and the one real Alizonder strolled as casually as possible through the outer ward and toward the castle gatehouse. Everyone's nerves jangled almost audibly, and Eirran dug her nails into her palms to keep herself from screaming. Once they reached the open, hound-Jenys and hound-Flame walked, though hound-Jenys shivered and limped, leaning against Dunnis as often as she could.
“Talgar!”
The Estcarpians stiffened and more than one hand went to sword-hilt, but the one who hailed their companion had no challenge in his voice.
“Off duty?” the Hound said. He walked up to the band of disguised escapees, glancing at them incuriously.
“Yes, and on my way out to run the dogs a little,” Talgar said.
“A couple of them don't look very well.”
“They've been off their feed.”
The newcomer grinned. “You always were too soft on your dogs. You should let ‘em fight for their food, the way the rest of us do. Makes ‘em tough, weeds out the weaklings.”
“We thought a little exercise might do them some good.”
“Yes. It might. I see you've got pups as well. Didn't know there were any pups in any of the kennels this time of year. It's early yet.”
“Oh, you know how it is. You get a female that's determined enough—” Talgar shrugged expressively, and the other man laughed.
“Well, can't start training ‘em too young, I supp
ose. Luck to you.” The Hound nodded courteously to Talgar's companions and walked on.
Eirran began to breathe again.
Talgar turned to the others. “Shall we ride?” he asked, loudly enough to be overheard if anyone was listening.
It was Yareth's turn to shrug. “I'd rather not rim along with the hounds,” he said, “though I'll carry this little one for a while.”
“And I.” Weldyn's mouth twitched and for a moment, Eirran thought he might smile.
“Might as well carry these sickly ones while we're at it,” Dunnis said. “At least until they get a whiff of fresh air.” He picked up hound-Jenys, and Ranal picked up hound-Flame.
“But let's not coddle them too much,” Ranal said. Surreptitiously, he stroked hound-Flame's snakelike head.
“Lead your horses at first, until we get well away from the town,” Talgar said. “The hounds will get too excited and they might overrun someone's garden, and then there'll be trouble from Baron Esguir.”
“Oh, we know all about Baron Esguir,” Loric said. “Never fear, we'll be very careful.”
They made it out through the castle gate without further incident, and only a few curious glances followed them as they strode quickly through the town. Ranal and Dunnis set their charges down as they neared the place where their horses were being stabled, and the “dogs” all moved close together.
At first, the stablekeeper was reluctant to let the men have the horses. “They belong to someone else,” he said. “New recruits for the Hounds. Girvan told me so when he paid me.”
“Those men turned out to be spies from Estcarp, and Girvan turned them in.” Talgar spat into the straw on the dirt floor of the stable. “All their goods forfeit. Baron Esguir has given the horses to these men. Reward for past service.”
“Oh.” The stablekeeper peered at the disguised escapees, looking them up and down. Eirran swallowed hard, trying to stifle a threatening hiccup. “And I suppose you want to try ‘em out, eh? Take ‘em for a run. Very well.” He shot them a suspicious look. “But don't try gettin’ any refund for the stable fees.”
“Keep it, keep it,” Yareth said. “Your part of the reward.”
The stablekeeper relaxed perceptibly. “Well, that's all right then. Come again, gentlemen, any time.”
The Estcarpians quickly claimed their mounts before the man could change his mind. Talgar accompanied them as they went on foot half a league beyond the city gate, leading the horses. They paused on the road, well away from any house or sentry, yet still in sight of the city walls.
“Here I must leave you,” the Alizonder said. “It is up to you now, to get out of the country in one piece. If you can. It won't be easy, that I know.”
Yareth nodded. “You have already done more than—than—”
“Than you would have expected of a Hound?” Talgar's smile twisted bitterly. “Not all of us are monsters. I don't make war on children. And when I heard what the Kolder were doing to them in that private room where nobody goes without having business there—Well, I was on my way to see what I could do to help them when I met your companions coming out.”
The canine shape that was hound-Lisper giggled again. “He meanth, we thcared him thilly,” she said. “We dithcovered a way I could make uth all invithible without taking our clotheth off, tho I did it and then when we thaw Talgar, Mouth thaid we thould let him thee uth. He jumped like anything.”
“We were trying to figure out what we were going to do about you three,” Loric said. “Keeping six children and four men invisible was wearing on this little one, even with the others helping her.” He tugged hound-Lisper's ear affectionately. “Then, when we met Talgar, everything just fell into place. Cricket said a disguise was a lot easier for them to maintain. You know the rest.”
On impulse, Eirran grasped the Alizonder's hand. “Come with us, Talgar,” she said. The other Estcarpians turned to stare at her as if she had taken leave of her senses.
Talgar shook his head, and gave a short laugh., “No, lady. I may disagree with Mallandor and his barons on some of the things they do. But make no mistake. I'm an Alizonder and no friend to Estcarp.”
“I believe I know what Eirran may have meant with her rash invitation,” Yareth said. “It's only a matter of time before all the prisoners are discovered to be missing. When they find that our horses are gone as well, there will be inquiries and the trail will lead directly to you. She would spare you, because of your kindness to our child.”
Talgar's face twisted. “You overstep your bounds, Hagman. We are enemies, you and I. Unfriends, I think you'd call it. If you and your company hadn't been necessary to get the children out of the clutches of the Kolder, I would have let the Master turn the Hounds loose on you and never lifted a finger to help you. I'll take my chances back in the barracks.”
“The Kolder will never harm anyone, ever again,” Yareth said. “Go your way, and return to your kennel if you will.”
Talgar turned abruptly and stalked back toward the city. Something cold nudged into Eirran's hand, and she jumped. It was hound-Jenys, close by her side, putting her dog's nose into Eirran's palm as if seeking warmth or comfort.
“Why did he go away like that? I thought he liked me.”
“He did,” Eirran said. “It's, it's complicated. I'll try to explain later.”
“Get on your horses,” Yareth said, “and each of you take a child with you. We have to put more distance between us and this place. It's just a question of time before the Hounds discover what's happened and come after us. I want our trail to get as cold as we can make it in what time we have.”
He looked at the “puppy” he still held cradled in the crook of his elbow and Eirran knew what he was thinking as clearly as if he had spoken aloud. “We'll stop at the first sheltered spot, and I'll tend him,” she said. “Come, Jenys—”
“Mouse,” the white dog said.
“Mouse, then. You ride with me.” She took the dog in her arms and climbed on her horse. Without thinking what she was doing, she stroked the animal's thin sides. She could count every bone. The Alizonders must have starved the children… .
Yareth lifted hound-Lisper to the front of his saddle, somehow managing to hold her and Newbold and still control Rangin. Each of the other men did the same, except for Weldyn. Only he rode alone.
IV
As soon as the escapees dared, they let the horses have their heads and went galloping pell-mell through the Alizon countryside. For the first time, Eirran was glad for the shelter of the ugly, brutal hedgerows. They might be difficult to go through, but they did keep the fugitives out of easy sight.
They didn't stop until they came to a small copse growing beside a bend in a stream. Weldyn hastily made certain the spot offered the shelter it promised. “We can hide here, and defend ourselves if necessary,” he said. “You do what you need to do, woman, and I'll stand guard.”
“I'll gather what medicinal plants I can find. You and Yareth both have a cut or two that need attention.”
“Nothing worthy of a song,” the Falconer replied. “Save your poultices and remedies for when they're needed.” He walked off stiff-legged, back straight and proud.
Sometime during their wild ride, Jenys—Mouse—had let go the strands of power that kept the disguises in place. Eirran became a woman again, holding a child and not an ugly white dog. As soon as Weldyn let him, Sharpclaw took to the air with an angry rustle of wings and flew straight up until he was a dot almost lost in the vastness of the sky.
Jenys and Yareth were kneeling beside Newbold when Eirran returned with a handful of moss and some nettles. These were almost useless for a healing, but nettle leaves, boiled, would stop hemorrhaging. Hoping against hope to find even the smallest bit of illbane, instead she had found elderflower and mullein, false sage and primrose. If she had been looking for ingredients to make a beauty cream, she could have done no better. But of true healing herbs, there were none. The best she could do now was to extract the ugly dart from
Newbold's breast, apply the boiled nettles, bandage the wound with moss, and hope.
The Witch-children stood nearby, watching with big, curious eyes. She told them to start a fire, and instructed Jenys— Mouse—to put some water on to heat. Then she turned her attention to Newbold. By some miracle, the falcon still lived, though he was very limp and heavy, and his breath rasped in his throat.
“I don't know if I can help him at all,” she told Yareth.
“Do what you can.”
As gently as she could, Eirran grasped the end of the dart and began to pull. Newbold was so far gone he didn't even stir. That might be for the good; if he fought, she might wind up doing even more harm to the bird. Gradually and steadily, she eased the dart out of the falcon's body, wiping away the darkened blood that came with it and applying a wad of dampened moss to the wound.
“Live,” she muttered. She began massaging the bird's wings and legs, testing for resistance in his talons. “Live. Jenys, get those nettles ready.”
Newbold stiffened and Eirran's heart leapt. For a moment she thought he might be coming around, relieved that the terrible dart was removed at last. She looked up at Yareth, the beginnings of a smile breaking over her face. But he just stared at Newbold in growing disbelief.
Newbold shuddered in her hands. She looked back at him, and the breath caught in her throat. His head lolled, and a thread of scarlet showed on his beak. He took a deep breath, shuddered again, and went limp.
“Oh, no,” she said softly. “No.”
Her words were drowned out by Yareth's cry of agony echoing through the little clearing where they knelt, and, following close upon it, Mouse's equally stricken wail.
Twelve
I
The Jewel burned where it lay on Mouse's chest. She touched it, and for the first time in her life, she found herself able to hear Papa as clearly as she had always heard Mama. But to her surprise she found this went even further than hearing—perhaps even farther and deeper than what Star had called it—mindtouch. Startled, Mouse discovered she had become one with him. She was no longer Mouse, and he was no longer Papa. They were Yareth. Yareth the Falconer. Bits and pictures of his life flashed across her mind, each moment as vivid, as clear and pure as it would have been if she had lived it all herself.
On Wings of Magic (Witch World: The Turning) Page 33
