I must have dozed anew. Later I awoke, hot, but much refreshed, to the bumping and jogging of the cart. Someone had left fresh clothes from my saddlebags; I dressed and emerged into the afternoon light.
Legs dangling over the tailgate, Genard sat munching an apple. “’Allo, m’lord.” He wore an outfit I recognized as the one he’d lent Elryc, when my brother was hidden. Behind him, their reins tied to the gate, paced Ebon and Santree.
Steadying himself on the siderail, Genard knocked loose the center pole holding the canvas. He twice folded the sagging tarpaulin, rolled it into a bundle.
The obstruction cleared, I gazed at the backs of the nurse and my brother, sitting together on the high box set. Elryc glanced back over his shoulder, nudged Hester.
She fixed me with a craggy eye. “Show him the apples, Genard. No time to stop for his lazy lordship’s breakfast, or we’ll never reach home.”
“I never asked-” I stopped. It was hopeless; nothing I could say would win Hester’s respect. Remembering the covers she’d snatched from my body, I blushed. Sulkily, I took a proffered apple. “Where’s Rustin?”
The stableboy shrugged. “Dunno, m’lord. Dame Hester made me go back an’ look. I told her to go herself, if she wanted to be stung to death. She said she’d take a stick to me.” He took a bite of his apple like the snap of a predator’s jaws. “Nasty old hag. No bugs, though, she was right about that. And no sign of Rustin.”
I’d feared he’d find Rustin a bloated corpse, crawling with feeding mites. Thank Lord of Nature that wasn’t so. On the other hand, Rust had deserted me and fled to the safety of Seawatch; so much for my loyal vassal. More than once, I’d spat out mouthfuls of grass and hay, when he’d lost his temper over some careless remark. I saw now the advantage of Eiber’s paid and full-time soldiery; at least they played at no hypocrisy of oaths and pretended allegiance.
I sighed, knowing Rustin wouldn’t leave me if he had a choice. Perhaps another evil of the woods had snared him. Morose, I clumped to the front of the wagon. “Where are we headed?”
“To Tarana’s cottage.”
“Where’s that?”
“Where I’ve always said. South of Cumber, outside Fort hamlet.”
“You never told-Hester, why are we on this imp-infested path, instead of the Cumber Trail?”
She nudged Elryc aside, knuckled the seat between us. As I squeezed between them she said, “A faster road, and shorter, that. But I like solitude.”
“For no better reason, you led us on a wild chase through savage-”
“Enough.” A warning glint, as of old. Like a boy, I hushed. She went on, “You may be brainless as a hare, but I at least think of Elryc. Cumber Trail is well traveled, especially now that Tantroth’s camped on the coast road. Would you that word went back to Margenthar that Elryc was seen with me?”
My brother’s lips formed, “Brainless as a hare.” Casually, so as not to attract Hester’s attention, I elbowed his ribs, hard enough to narrow his eyes in momentary pain.
I ducked, as we neared a low branch. “You could have bid him when folk approached. This road is a travesty.”
“When you’re King, repair it.”
“And it has evil. Hester, those insects attacked us.”
“They’re what you deserved, you dolt, camping off the roadbed!” She flicked her switch, as if to expend her ire on the horses.
“I don’t …” I hated to admit ignorance, but we’d blundered into disaster, and I needed to know. “Please, tell me.”
“Have you not heard of the Settling? Think you the land is reconciled to the House of Caledon, while trees still live that knew days before Varon?”
“But there are no folk to wield-”
“Untended, Powers go sour with native cunning. Your mother tamed the roadway, by great effort, while the Still waxed great within her. But think you one Lady could work her will on the whole countryside? The Power of Caled Forest sustains itself, and no one in his right mind not born to this place sets foot off the roadway!”
I swallowed. “No one told me. I mean, I heard about the Settling, yes, but those were just old tales, legends …”
“We’ll have a fool for a king.” Her face was set, and stony.
I kneaded my knuckles, wondering if ever I’d be free of boyhood. Though I knew myself a man, in her eyes I was nothing.
“Besides,” she added, “had you met me at Whiecliff as you promised, we’d have conferred about our path. As it was, I knew not whether to wait for you.”
“I couldn’t help it.” All my life, whatever I’d done, I had to ward off her rebukes. Oft, they were unstated, but made themselves felt in her tone or glance. My voice was sullen. “Uncle Mar tried to impound me in the castle, and then we barely got past Tantroth. Genard’s horse was shot from under him.”
“Yes, he told me how gallantly you rode back for him.” Suspicious, I searched her face, but found nothing. I changed the subject. “How far are we past the rock?”
“By horse, three hours at most. But the cart is slow.”
“And noticeable. We had but to ask, and it was remembered.” As was the spectacle of Hester herself. I thought better of saying so. “An old woman and a boy, they said. How did you get Elryc out from-”
“M’lord! Dame Hester!” Genard scrambled forward. “Someone follows!”
I jumped to my feet, almost fell from the wagon’s high seat. Could it be Rustin?
A tired nag stumbled over the small rise, doggedly followed our track. It could barely keep pace with the drays.
My heart fell. Rust had no horse; his Santree followed our wagon.
In the distance the rider, bare-chested, waved menacingly.
And he had two heads.
I chilled at this new evil wrought by the forest. Tighter I gripped my sword. If one head were lopped, would the demon die?
As if to reveal the answer, he rose in the saddle, shouted words lost to the wind, windmilled his arms.
I groped for my dagger, found none. Like most of my gear, it had been lost in the clearing. Thank Lord of Nature my crown was wrapped safe and in Ebon’s saddlebag, else I’d have had to return for it, even if it cost my life.
“Elryc, crawl beneath the canvas!” Hester’s rheumy old eyes peered. “I can’t see so far.” She hurried the horses. “Roddy, you hide too. Now that you’re fugitive from the Duke, you mustn’t be-”
“Cower under a blanket? Bah. Give me a weapon!”
She sighed. “Well, if you’re ever to reach manhood, I suppose you must defend yourself. There’s a half-sword in the green-painted trunk.”
I leaped for the blade.
“Don’t show the sword yet,” Hester growled. “Sharp steel sets a tone, and he may be a simple-”
“Yes, Nurse. Genard, untie Ebon and Santree. Mount one and lead the other. Ride ahead of the cart, to safety.”
“I’m not afraid, m’lord. Let me-”
“Who cares about you? I won’t have Ebon injured. Be quick!”
His eyes bleak, the boy jumped directly from the cart to Ebon’s saddle. He unhitched the reins, sped off, Santree in tow. I recalled Rustin’s good sword was still tied to Santree’s saddle, but there was no time to call Genard back. He reined in a hundred paces beyond the cart, turned to watch.
The wagon jounced down the road, Hester muttering grim imprecations to her horses.
From ahead, the gallop of hooves. I whirled to meet the new threat, saw Genard streak past on Ebon. “Lor’ Rustin! Hi aiyee! Lor’ Rustin!”
I squinted. Had Rustin been taken by the forest, transformed into some unspeakable two-headed-
My grip on the sword relaxed. Two riders. No wonder the nag could barely keep pace.
Their elderly horse looked ready to lay itself down. As our wagon rolled to a standstill, Rustin jumped from the saddle, led the nag and rider the remaining fifty paces.
Panting, Rustin drew near. I dropped the sword, leaped down, the better to berate him for his perfidy in abandoning us. I drew breat
h as he rushed close. “Where have you been, you ungrate-”
He enveloped me in his arms, squeezed the breath from me. “Thank Lord you’re safe! I was worried sick!” My feet dangled as he danced me across the roadway. The reopened cuts on my back stung like fireants.
“Ow! Put me down, you oaf!”
“Couldn’t you hear us shout? Why wouldn’t you stop?”
I managed to free myself, but not before he planted a kiss on my nape. Angrily, I wiped it off. My gaze fell again on his companion. “You!” I whirled back to Rust. “With all the misery we endure, you had to fetch that … harlot?”
His mouth tightened. “Speak softly, Roddy. She-”
Chela jumped down from the wheezing mare. “Call me that, who risked my life to join you and Lord Rustin? Prince or no, I’ll scratch-” She lunged at my eyes.
Rustin dived between us, held us apart. “Don’t. You’re both my friends. Chela, behave; he’s my liege lord! Ow! Roddy, why do you hit me?”
The whip cracked sharply over our heads, and brought us to our senses. Hester’s glare was enough to wilt a lily. She clambered down from her high perch. “Lunatics, the lot of you.”
Rustin looked abashed; Genard stared at Chela with undisguised admiration. Only the girl appeared unready to give up her quarrel. I moved casually to put Rust again between us.
“May I come out now?” Perspiring, Elryc poked his head from under the canvas. “They don’t sound very dangerous.” He giggled. “Except to you, Roddy.”
I filed it with my long list of reprisals. “Tie yourself in a sack and throw yourself in the river.” I eyed Rustin’s bare chest. “You lost your clothes too?”
He blushed. “Chela offered a chemise, but I couldn’t …” He peered into the distance, and his eyes lit. “Santree!”
“Never mind him. What’s this-woman doing here?”
She hissed, “Looking after Lor’ Rustin, more than his liege cared to!” A flick of her head, to toss back her hair.
“You were to work at the inn!”
“Why? What if Tantroth’s soldiers came? Or Llewelyn’s, who knew me?”
“You could say you knew nothing. They wouldn’t hurt you. More likely, they’d …” I colored.
“I won’t be a soldiers’ whore!”
“Go elsewhere, then. We have errands of-”
“You stole my Rustin, where should I go, but to him?” Her face dissolved as she threw herself into his arms. “An’ thank Lor’ of Nature I came. He was racing along the road swatting bees, stung half to death!”
Rustin met my eyes, offered an embarrassed shrug.
With a growl I turned away. I glanced up the road, and froze. A horseman, in the colors of Margenthar. “It’s not over.” I scrambled onto the wagon, snatched up the sword. “Your lying whore led the enemy to us!”
The soldier waved and shouted as his charger cantered down the roadway. He was garbed for war, sword bouncing at his side, arm in shield. A helmet shadowed his eyes from the midday sun.
Rustin’s good sword was still strapped to Santree, where Genard had tied him. Rust snatched a dagger from his belt.
“Elryc, Genard, behind the cart!” I had time to mount Ebon, but our attacker bore a shield, and I had none; that would give him advantage to drive me off. On foot, I was at more risk of injury, but with luck I could slash his horse’s legs, bring him down.
“Hold, Rodrigo!” The soldier gestured anew.
My jaw went tight at the hated colors of the Duke. “He’s mine, Rust. Stay back!”
“You can’t bring down a mounted man with-”
“Watch me!” As the man neared I lunged at his steed, sword extended.
Though caught by surprise, the soldier had quick reactions; he bent over the pommel, got his shield between my blade and his mount’s legs. In a flash, his sword was drawn. “No, Prince!”
I aimed a dismembering blow at his midsection; he parried. Again I struck, and again he countered. Despite my orders, Rustin quietly circled, waiting for an opening. From the cart Hester watched, her eyes grim, a protective arm around Elryc. Chela had disappeared behind the wagon.
Rust feinted. The soldier’s steed reared. The man drove his mount in a circle, fending off us both. “Wait, Roddy!”
Rustin lunged, almost managing to drive his dagger into the man’s thigh. For an instant the soldier had opportunity to run Rustin through. He was too dull-witted to take advantage. Instead, he batted Rust with his shield. Rust reeled, his legs unsteady.
While the man’s attention was diverted I slashed viciously at his right arm. The shy of his horse threw off my blow; I succeeded merely in parting the reins. The edge of my blade buried itself in his pommel, wrenched itself from my grip.
At the impact, the soldier whirled, raising his shield for a blow. In desperation I leaped, clung to his forearm, gave a mighty tug. With a cry of despair he flew from the saddle, fell atop me, sword clattering. Half-stunned, I managed to twist myself free, climb atop his chest. I snatched up the sword.
“Kill him, m’lord!” Genard pranced in a frenzy of excitement. “Kill him!”
The man bucked, flinging me into the air. I raised both hands, gripped the blade for the plunge into his chest.
He shrieked, “Mercy, Lord!” It stayed my hand just long enough for him to draw breath. “Always you want to kill me!”
The voice seemed familiar. I hesitated.
“Vicious boy, not a moment did you grant me to plead my case! Go ahead then, end it!”
“Fah! Nothing you say could excuse Margenthar’s-”
“I speak not for the Duke! Please, Lord Prince!”
With an oath I twisted his helmet, nearly cracking his neck in my haste to have it off.
Fostrow, my gaoler.
I gaped. “What do you here?”
“I’ve chased you through hill and dale for two imp-laden nights!”
“To drag me back!”
“To join you!”
That doused the embers of my rage. While they still sizzled and smoked I held his shoulders, uncertain. “Have you lost your wits?”
“What choice had I?” He groaned. “Let me up; my spine is on a rock.”
“Good.” I jounced his stomach; he gasped with pain. “Explain, churl!”
“Know you not your uncle’s ways? Think you I could knock at his chamber, say I let you dump me in a clothing chest? Oww! If you’d break my back, have done with it!”
Reluctantly, I shifted.
“He’d have hanged me on the spot. He warned as much, when he set me to guard you. Even while I was suffocating in that cursed wardrobe I knew better than to cry for help.” Fostrow glowered, as if his dilemma were my fault. “By the time I worked myself loose, the castle was in an uproar. Smoke in the cellars, Tantroth’s troops charging toward Llewelyn’s keep.” He shook his head. “Easy enough it was to mount, and slip out in the confusion.”
My grip tightened on the sword. “You left earlier, by the Duke’s order. Else, you couldn’t have gained entry to Llewelyn’s keep to follow us.”
Fostrow’s face grew red. “Think you I don’t know the path through Besiegers’ Pond? Was I not raised under the castle walls?”
I caught Rustin’s eye, exchanged glances. He shrugged.
“Youngsire, why are you so suspicious?” Fostrow loosed a hand enough to pat my leg. “A townsman saw you and the two boys slip onto the pond trail. The dead mare with an arrow through its throat was marker; I recognized the charger from our stable.”
I growled, “My stable. You come from Verein.”
He said with dignity, “I was sent to Verein. I come from Stryx.”
“And you’re here to drag me back.” I raised Rustin’s dagger.
“Stay, Roddy.” Elryc, his tone urgent.
I glared at his interference. “He’d carry you off to Pytor’s cell!”
“I would not!” Fostrow was indignant.
“Hear him out.”
“His tales get wilder and-”
>
“I climbed down the ravine, but you’d disappeared into the keep. I couldn’t go to the gate, lest you’d have them shoot me before I could explain. So I waited half a league up the road you must surely take. All night I paced, cursing the imps and demons of the dark. It was full dawn before I risked going off the road to piss, and while I was behind a bush your party galloped past in a flash. I mounted and followed, but …” His face puckered. For a moment I thought he was going to cry.
The danger seemed past, and he was unarmed. I slipped off his stomach, helped him to a sitting position.
“Ill luck rode my shoulder. My horse caught a stone in her foot, and I was an hour dislodging it. At Whiecliff they said you were but two hours ahead, so I had no chance to eat. Then Nell lost her shoe, and I had to walk her the rest of the way into Seawatch. I found the smith, but I was hours persuading the scoundrel to reshoe her. His mind has a warp, like a mishammered sword.”
Rustin leaned over, brushed dirt from the man’s back. “How did you find us?”
“How not, youngsire? Folk at Whiecliff said you’d inquired about an old lady’s wagon and followed her path; think you such a procession would go unnoticed? Wherever I went I had merely to ask for a cart followed by three boys.”
“I’m no boy.” Reluctantly, I sheathed the sword. “Go back whence you came. I’ll have none of you.”
“Back to what, Prince Rodrigo?” Fostrow’s tone was injured. “The Duke won’t have me, and Tantroth holds the coast. All I know is to soldier.”
“Then serve my uncle at Cumber. Begone.”
“Think you I serve for coin, like Eiber’s black-clad troops?” He drew himself up. “I’m of Caledon!”
“Fah! You swore fealty to my uncle, and abandon him without remorse.”
“It’s a sore point,” he admitted. “But I’ve pondered it. Does my oath require me to go meekly to my own hanging? Would you expect such of me, my lord?”
“A vow is a vow.”
“Easy to say, for one who demands fealty and need not give it.” His tone was a rebuke. He rubbed his back, winced. “My lord, if Margenthar isn’t Caledon, then you are. I offer my service. I ask only that you feed and clothe me, and provide me arms.”
I glanced from Rustin to Elryc. “Can you imagine such gall? Not two days ago, he held me prisoner.”
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