by Dave Duncan
"I have never met a woman less plain."
She nodded pertly. "Thank you, kind sir!"
"And the man you love?"
"Zig, of course." She pulled a puzzled frown. "I don't know how you knew that. No one else does. Mother believes she got us apart in time. Gods, we'd had two weeks! I never believed in love at first sight before."
I chuckled. "Of course not!"
"Romantic nonsense!"
"Utter rubbish! How long did it take?"
"At least half a second. Just long enough to sit up. I didn't get a proper look at him before he pulled me off the horse."
"I saw Zig's face. He didn't argue, did he? You know, I've never tried that strong-arm style of wooing. It seems to work faster than my usual technique. We must discuss it on the journey."
"There is no need for you to come! There will be danger, for the king has already ordered a search of the city and—"
"All the king's horses will not stop me from coming, my lady. I will escort you to the man you love or die trying." My tongue does run away with me sometimes.
She hid her eyes under the most perfect lashes I have ever seen. "Thank you. You will make dangerous enemies, you know."
"Which is why Verl chose a foreigner. What does she say to the royal dispute over you?"
"She forbids either match. She is adamant! But think both of them are past listening to her."
"They are fools, then." Men can be driven mad by beauty. I didn't say so.
I was not needed within the palace. Only beyond the water gate might I make a useful contribution. I knew that. Verl knew that. Sweet-rose had known that. They had left the choice up to me. Not that there could be any doubt about my decision. I knew that. Verl knew … Oh, never mind.
Being effectively invisible is a very eerie experience. The guards had combed the palace from cellar to battlements without catching one glimpse of their quarry. They went back to the beginning to try again. The king was threatening to have every man jack of them flogged. I knew that because they said so. On the cramped spiral stairs, in the narrow passages, they passed so close to us that we could see the stubble on their chins and the sweat on their brows. They stepped aside to let Sweet-rose pass, as they would for any lady, and yet they never looked at her face or asked her name.
The stables were even stranger. Guards stood around debating where the woman could be hiding. Stablehands played dice. None of them showed any interest as we chose the strongest-seeming mounts we could find and saddled them. One trooper actually opened the door for us as we left, all the while arguing with a companion as to how the fugitive could have escaped.
Similarly, as no one went boating in winter, there was no need to guard the water gate, was there?
I had thought that the weak point in the plan would be persuading the horses that it was a fine night for a swim. Perhaps Verl helped us there, too, but Sweet-rose was a superlatively good rider and may have managed it by herself. My mount followed easily enough. Ugh! It was a very sobering experience.
Moments later we were thundering along the northern highway by the light of a setting moon. Zardon lay four long days' ride away.
Now was when I began to be of some help. Not with any he-man tactics, though—I had not even bothered to find a sword. When you are up against an entire kingdom, one blade is small use. My wits were no faster than my companion's and she was at least my equal in horsemanship. What she lacked was experience on the road. Sweet-rose had no grasp of the value of money, of how to bargain for bed and board without arousing suspicion, of traveling at all without a sizable armed escort. I doubt that she could have made it without my help, and she would have certainly left a trail of puzzled witnesses behind her.
As it was, we arrived at Zardon unchallenged. Traveling in winter is a rough business, grinding down both mind and body. There was no frost, but we met wind and rain aplenty, and mud everlasting, mud that even seemed to settle in the cracks between my teeth. Constant riding, short days, and the unending bleakness of the countryside are a depressing diet. Sweet-rose withstood it every bit as well as I did, or better. She had her love for Zig to inspire her.
I was wondering what we were going to do when we found him, but I brooded on that in silence. I feared the gods were planning a tragedy.
The whole of the last day we were never far from a rampart of cliffs, at whose toes the sea frothed and surged. That area south of Kylam is almost deserted. Some of the bays hold small fishing villages, but the cottages are far apart. We escaped detection, sliding by like ghosts in a soaking gray murk of fog that shrouded the coast.
As darkness began to fall, we stopped to rest our mounts and eat a scanty meal. The bread was so stale that I thought I was making more noise munching at it than the horses were in the coarse grass. I felt chilled, weary, and thoroughly depressed.
"We must find shelter soon, lady," I said glumly. "We shall not see our hands on the reins tonight."
"We are almost there."
I wondered how she could possibly know that. All I could make out was grass, and little of that. Even the horses were barely visible, a few paces away.
She must have heard my doubt. "That last stream was Pil Brook. Many a trout I have caught in that. We are on my brother's land now."
"Tell me about the castle, then."
"It is not much of one. A blockhouse on a headland. It was built as a watchtower against pirates. My grandfather turned it into a hunting lodge."
I felt a little better. "How large a garrison?"
"None, in these times. Fighting men are scarce. I think there will only be Zig and one or two jailers."
Then perhaps there was hope. A man with a broken ankle is fairly easy to imprison. Put him on a horse, and Zig would be as mobile as either of us. Would there be horses there, though? I wished we had thought to acquire a spare, but there seemed small chance of that now.
"Trust in the gods," I muttered, and choked down another mouthful.
Before we reached the castle, we were forced to dismount and follow the track on foot. It wound steadily upward through scanty clumps of trees, emerging eventually on a grassy, stony upland. We spoke only in whispers, but we were not likely to be heard in so much mud, or over the growing rumble of surf. I sensed it with my feet as much as my ears. We were a long way above it. If there were guards posted outside on such a night, then the lodge must be so well garrisoned that our cause was hopeless.
Castle Zardon emerged before us as a square patch of slightly more solid darkness. It was a doll's castle, a box less than ten paces across, no more than two stories high. The track ran right up to an arched doorway, and the gate stood open. I stopped worrying about a garrison and began to wonder what we should do if the place was deserted.
I didn't even know what we were going to do if it wasn't. I had not asked, because I did not wish to hear. Who was I to impede the progress of true love?
I suspected, though, that my strong-willed associate had notions of rushing Zig into matrimony to present her family and her royal suitors with a fait accompli. Then what? Perhaps Sweet-rose was so inexperienced in the ways of royalty that she could not foresee the consequences. I could, only too well. Court gossip listed several persons who had met with violence after annoying the crown prince. The king was certainly capable of throwing Sweet-rose into jail for the rest of her life. What he would do to Zig and myself did not bear contemplation.
Meanwhile, we had tethered the horses to a rail, and Sweet-rose was heading for the doorway. I caught her arm. "Let's walk all around and look for lights first."
"Try that and you'll make the highest dive on record.''
"Oh. Well, explain the floor plan, please."
"Stables, kitchen, guard room on this level. Hall and two bedchambers above. Come on."
We crept through the arch, into total darkness. Sweet-rose took my cold hand with surprisingly warm fingers and found her own way by touch. If there were horses nearby, they were the quietest, most odor-free I had ever enco
untered. I could smell the sea, mostly, but also traces of woodsmoke. We reached steps and began to climb. Fortunately the stairway was of stone and did not creak. We moved in total silence, broken only by the low growl of the surf and the mad thundering of my heart, which must have been audible in Uthom.
Then we turned a corner and there was light ahead, spilling out from under a door. We sank down on the steps and peered through the slit.
I saw furniture legs and four boots. A fire crackled. Dice clattered on a table. I heard a male voice ramble in disgust.
"Good!" Sweet-rose whispered. "It's True-valor!"
Before I could say a word, she jumped up and opened the door.
I slithered back down the stairs on my hands and knees until I was below the light. I heard cries of astonishment and the sound of two stools falling over. I recognized Zig's voice demanding to know what in the name of all the gods … and much the same from another voice I remembered, its arrogance undiminished by the passage of time—True-valor, my long-ago escort, who had whisked me from Myto to Still Waters to entertain the court. Not a dozen people in Verlia could be counted on to remember me from then, but he was one of them.
"I have come to take Zig away," Sweet-rose said.
"You bring your brother's warrant, my lady?"
So he was going to argue, which is what I should have expected of him. I did not trust Sweet-rose's ability to charm that one into disobeying orders, although perhaps she expected that she could. I decided to intervene before the surprise dissipated.
I strode up the stairs and stepped into view at her side. I tried to display my most sinister, cryptic smile, but the effect was probably ruined by the way I had to screw up my eyes against the light of the candles.
The hall did not deserve the name. It was a poky little room, but cozy enough under the circumstances, with a cheerful fire and too many chairs and stools. The walls were lined with bows and fishing rods laid on pegs. Two doors led off it. They remained closed; no reinforcements came bursting out to investigate the newcomers.
Zig was on his feet. He had not moved forward, because there was a chain around his ankle. True-valor was closer, barring Sweet-rose's approach.
"Omar!" Zig shouted.
True-valor made a choking noise, gaping at me.
I told you that Zig was a man after my own heart. The hallmark of an experienced adventurer is that he recognizes opportunity when it presents itself. He snatched the flagon from the table and slammed it down on True-valor's head. The flagon shattered into a shower of wine and potsherds. The big man's knees folded and he hit the floor with a crash that shook the castle.
Sweet-rose rushed into her lover's arms. He was a man after her heart, also.
Ignored, then, I made myself useful. I trussed True-valor's ankles and wrists with portions of his own motley. He was sleeping soundly, but it never hurts to make sure. In the process, I found the key to Zig's fetter, so I unlocked that. I removed True-valor's sword and laid it on the table where Zig could find it when he returned to the real world. I appropriated True-valor's dagger for myself, in the belief that one day it might be useful. It had a lovely hilt of carved amber. Then I selected the most comfortable chair and sat down to appreciate the romance.
Eventually my friends were able to free their mouths for talking.
"Beloved!"
"My true heart!"
And so on. It was ever so sweet.
Meanwhile the entire kingdom was hunting us and the passes were closed for the winter. Who would risk the royal wrath by offering shelter to three fugitives? Where did we go from here?
"Oh, my darling, darling Zig!"
"My sweet, sweet Sweet-rose!"
I can't guess how long they might have gone on like that. They were interrupted by the crown prince and another man. The two of them came stalking into the room together, looking angry and travel-weary. Their black cloaks were spattered gray with mud. Both were armed and dangerous. Being neither, I stayed where I was to watch.
The newcomers glanced around, registering me with gratifying surprise. I raised a languid hand in greeting. I knew the other man, Great-merit of Orgaz. He was the most feared duelist in the court and Star-seeker's closest crony.
Zig and Sweet-rose had sprung apart to face this threat.
The prince wasted no time on pleasantries. "It's time for bed, darling. Who is the peasant?"
"He is my betrothed."
"No, dear. The king is your betrothed. Tonight you sleep with me and tomorrow you go home to Daddy. Everybody's happy, then, if you keep your mouth shut. If you don't, it's your problem. Send the peon away now and no harm will come to him. Show him the door, Merit."
Zig lifted the sword I had left on the table and checked that it moved easily in the scabbard.
The prince sighed. "All right, kill him."
The two men drew simultaneously. Great-merit flashed a contemptuous stroke that he probably expected to cut Zig's throat from ear to ear. It was parried, and he leaped back from a lightning riposte. No peon, sir!
There was far too much furniture around—not to mention True-valor, who had begun to writhe underfoot—for any classic, or even classy, fencing. Whether more space would have made any difference to the outcome, I cannot say. Zig still had a bad limp, which would have been a handicap in courtly swordplay. In the sort of slash-and-bash barroom brawling that was needed, though, footwork was less important and the adventurer outclassed the aristocrat. Swords rang and clattered. Great-merit screamed once and doubled over on the table, scattering dice, goblets, and half the candlesticks. Then he slid back off it like a cloth, crumpling into a heap on the floor. He made some disgusting gurgling noises and could be presumed dead or dying. I crossed my legs and stayed where I was, aware that we were now playing for even larger stakes than before.
Star-seeker was visibly shaken to see his champion so easily dispatched, but he quickly cloaked his alarm in arrogance. "Oh, that was very foolish! Whoever you are, yokel, you have just slain a distinguished member of the aristocracy. Do you know me? Tell him who I am, darling."
"Believe it or not, this is our crown prince."
"To me he's only a witness. Keep out of the way." Zig seemed to have grown. He certainly dominated the room now, blood-streaked sword in hand, the woman he loved at his back, a dead foe at his feet. His pale hair blazed in the candlelight, his blue eyes held no doubts or fear, and he smiled as if he was enjoying himself hugely. I know a hero when I see one.
Star-seeker evidently did not. To my surprise, he held his ground, although there was an open door behind him and probably a gang of thugs waiting downstairs. He had no reputation around court as a fighter. The gossips said he was a pitiful coward when he did not have his bullyboys handy. But now he reached for the hilt of his sword.
"Not only am I crown prince, I am also on a mission of divine retribution! Drop that sword or die, hayseed!"
"Run away while you can, Prince!" Zig lurched forward, stepping around Great-merit's corpse.
Star-seeker noted the limp and pulled out his sword with a chuckle. The move was so awkward that I was certain Zig could have cut him down before he even came to guard. I was surprised he did not. I shot a worried glance at Sweet-rose, hoping that our mutual friend was not going to display any romantic scruples over shedding royal blood. If he expected to give the prince a lesson in tavern swordmanship, let him off with a minor scar as a diploma, shake hands, and all gallant lads together, the next round's on me …
Clang!
Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang-clang-clang …
I relaxed. Obviously Zig had refrained from striking an unarmed man, that was all. From the first lunge, it was a match to the death on both sides. Even had Zig wanted it otherwise, he could not play-fight against a man trying to slay him. And why should he, anyway? He had not started the slaughter.
Besides, he was a human being, not a corn mill that will stop when you release the handle. He was fired up with fighting spirit from the first bout. Not one ma
n in a thousand could have stopped there.
The prince had the better of the first exchange. Zig recovered a step. I think he had expected more fancy-dancy courtier fencing and was suspicious of Star-seeker's amateur wood chopping. Zig quickly summed him up, though, and then went for the kill.
He was badly hampered by his game ankle, but he drove Star-seeker away from the door, backed him against a stool in a flurry of steel, and, as he toppled over it, ran him through.
The prince collapsed, screaming horribly. Sweet-rose cried out, moved forward, and then backed away from the shower of gore.
I came at him from the other side—wondering what Verlians regarded as a fitting penalty for high treason. The young lout wasn't dead, but he was as good as. I knelt and pulled him over on his back. Brilliant red blood was pumping out of his belly in a fountain. His eyes were wide with astonishment—none of us ever really expect death.
He gasped one word: "Betrayed!"
I watched as he bled to death. It only took a few seconds.
He was as dead as any corpse I have ever seen. The bleeding stopped, his bowels loosed. I am not mistaken in this. Star-seeker died that night.
I looked up from my knees. The lovers were back in each other's arms again.
"Leave that for later!" I said sharply. "We've just killed the heir apparent. What do we do now?"
Sweet-rose looked up into Zig's eyes. "We leave," she said.
"Exile? Beloved, I am a penniless wanderer!"
"I have no choice, darling! Take me. We shall wander together."
"That's all very well!" I protested before they could start another tongue-wrestling contest. "How do we get out of the country?"
"You're a sailor, aren't you, darling?" Sweet-rose said. "You told me. There are fishermen down in the bay. I have gold. We'll buy a boat."
Zig raised flaxen eyebrows. "An open boat in this weather?"
