by W. C. Conner
“My lord,” Mitchal replied, elevating the captain to a level he was incapable of attaining, “I will not let my one remaining eye rest lest I miss this opportunity. You may be assured any information we have will reach you even if I have to steal a horse to make it happen.”
As the troop rode off, Mitchal returned to the shade of the tree and sat down next to Caron who continued to stare at the ground.
“Now I know who it was that I felt was looking at me back at the Ahnglees ford,” she said, anger in her voice. “Only he wasn’t looking at me, he was looking through me – through my eyes. I don’t know how he managed it but Greyleige is able to track me.” There was a moment of silence as she thought.
“We will have to be even more cautious, Mitchal,” she said. “Still, now that I know what was happening when that feeling was upon me, I have some options. The obvious one is to simply close my eyes when I sense that presence but that would alert him to my awareness of him. Another is to mislead him by looking at things that won’t give away our location. For that, it would serve well to leave the road and cut across country, avoiding recognizable landmarks. For certain, he must not see the one-eyed beggar man.” She finally ceased her staring act and looked over to Mitchal.
“We’re fortunate he found me bathing alone in the river at the ford,” she reasoned. “Had I been with you, your disguise would be known and the other beggar would, logically, be me.” She thought for a moment more before adding, “Since he seems to be scrying on me somehow, I must be careful to make sure he doesn’t see your face or he will be able to locate us quickly by shifting his seeking to you.”
“Highness,” Mitchal said, a mischievous smile on his face, “they offered me two pieces of gold for you. How much is my silence worth to you?”
She leaned over and gave him an affectionate kiss on the cheek. “Ah, Mitchal, there is no reward sufficient for your loyalty.” As she spoke her own face broke into an amused grin, followed immediately by a girlish giggle. “Imagine what those hard-bitten men would think if they had seen the drooling simpleton kiss your cheek.”
They both laughed as they picked up their meager packs and, turning away from the road, pushed their way into the heavy growth of bushes and trees as they struck off cross-country toward the mountains beyond the Dolne Forest.
Caron’s voice was muffled as they disappeared into the growth, “I can hardly wait to wash those itchy plant dyes from my skin.”
They shed their disguises and resumed their own identities, no longer fearing discovery as they pushed deeper and deeper into the Dolne Forest that ran off to the south of the road they had been on when Greyleige’s mercenaries had come upon them. Should the wizard manage to track Caron again, they felt safe in the knowledge they would not be in any location that he would be likely to recognize.
The terrain became more and more rocky and the heavy shade of the oak and sycamore was replaced by the open pines and firs of the higher elevations. At the end of the third day even the pines had become few and far between when they abruptly found themselves faced with an insurmountable wall of stone which appeared to dare them to try to climb it.
Caron called a halt. “I don’t know how you fare,” she said, “but I am weary. We’ll set a camp here for the night. Somewhere off to the right of us is a cleft through which we will be able to pass. The morning light will favor its discovery.”
Following a cold meal of dried fruits, nuts and jerked venison, all washed down with the water from a clear stream near their camping spot, they bedded down early with the goal of leaving as soon as it was light enough to see.
As she lay rolled up in her blanket, Caron felt a shudder run through her. Her first thought was that Greyleige was seeking her once again but the feeling was all wrong. This felt nothing like her experience at the ford. There was oppressiveness to this feeling that had been lacking in Greyleige’s intrusion.
She turned over and found that Mitchal was awake with his eyes wide open. “Do you feel it, too?” she whispered.
“Aye,” he said softly, “what is it, Highness?”
“I’ve no idea but it feels evil,” she said. “Still, it doesn’t feel like we are of interest to it.”
As they talked the feeling ebbed then built once again.
“Whatever it is, it is searching, Mitchal,” she whispered. “However, I don’t think I need fear this thing. It feels as if it is blind to me because of my elven heritage.” There were several minutes of silence during which Caron could feel the evil presence sweep back and forth as it moved farther and farther north, away from where they lay.
Finally Caron spoke. “While I feel no threat for me, I’m less certain of your safety. Unless I miss my guess, this evil is a tool of Greyleige. It seems he declares himself ever more openly. We must get to Wisdom and find Wilton as quickly as possible. I fear for him.”
They shared a look of understanding across the fire before rolling over to the sleep which would soon become a luxury to them.
They were awake before daybreak, sharing a cold breakfast and setting off in the direction of the cut with the intention of passing through it early so that they could avoid the heat of midday as they made the steep climb to the cleft.
By the time the sun had cleared the horizon behind them they had scrambled over most of the loose stones of the talus at the base of the cliff and were well up into the cleft. They were approaching the saddle leading to the downward path upon the far side when Caron shuddered and turned to look behind them. In the distance she could see what appeared to be a large bird riding the wind currents much as an eagle would, but even at this distance she could tell it was no bird. It was searching back and forth, banking and giving a slight flap of its wings, catching a rising thermal and banking once again.
“Mitchal,” she called softly, “look there. That must be what we felt last night.”
He looked to where she pointed and could also tell this was no bird. “Highness,” he said, “I know you’re certain your elven heritage confers proof against this evil thing, but as you said yourself last night you are not so sure about my safety and, in truth, neither am I. I feel we should find some sort of cover.”
The creature was in no hurry. It moved purposefully in a regular pattern, sifting through the sensations in the minds of the creatures over which it flew, testing and comparing what it found against the imprint left in its mind by Greyleige at the time they had been summoned. Its deliberate progress allowed Caron and Mitchal ample time to gain the saddle and search for a suitable place of concealment.
As they worked their way among the boulders and rubble, it seemed as though a shadow next to one of the larger boulders at the far end of the cleft moved. They both saw it at the same instant and froze, unwilling to move for fear they would attract the attention of the creature that waited. As they did, it turned and looked toward them as if it was aware of their presence.
Putting her mouth to Mitchal’s ear, Caron whispered as softly as she could, “This is clearly another one of those abominations. I’m compelled to test my hypothesis. I’m going to move several yards to our right, then stop. As soon as I have stopped moving, I want you to follow me as carefully and quietly as you can.” So saying, she moved as carefully as she could away from Mitchal.
There was no change in the observer’s attitude until Mitchal started moving toward Caron. As he moved, the shadow turned to track his position, although it made no move toward them. As Mitchal drew up next to Caron, she once again whispered into Mitchal’s ear. “It appears I was right in my assessment. It appears to be unaware of me, but it is clearly aware of you. Even at that, though, I feel a background hatred that makes it a very real threat. I believe it has no real interest in you.”
As she spoke, the shadow of something huge crossed over them and the seeker they had seen from afar swooped over them to land beside the shadow at the far end of the cleft. A creature resembling a bat with wings that spanned more than twelve feet settled next to the shadow, th
en folded its wings over its back and turned with its fellow to look in the direction of Caron and Mitchal. Motioning to Mitchal to stay where he was she walked first several yards to his left, then an equal number of yards to his right, then returned to Mitchal, all during which the creatures ignored her.
Signing to Mitchal what she intended to do, she undid the clasp of a silver chain hanging about her neck and withdrew a brilliant green gemstone which she fastened around Mitchal’s neck. As they looked toward the far end of the saddle the two creatures turned abruptly, unfolded their great wings, and beat themselves quickly up into the sky to soar silently away from where Caron and Mitchal stood.
After a few moments, Caron spoke. “You must keep that about your neck, Mitchal,” she said, “for it obviously makes you as invisible to those creatures as I am myself. We will need that advantage if we are not to draw them toward Wilton.” As she looked over to her guardsman, she was surprised to find the sweat of nervousness or fear on his face.
“They have a spell of terror upon them, Mitchal,” she said. “Although it doesn’t affect me as it does you, yet can I feel their malevolence.” She looked to the sky where the two creatures soared, crossing back and forth as they scanned the terrain below, looking for the mind picture imprinted upon them by Greyleige.
“We must get to Wisdom before they do, Mitchal,” she said grimly. “Let us be off.”
19
“Good afternoon, good sirs,” Tingle called out as he swung down from the driver’s box of his wagon. The two guards posted before the main gate of the castle looked uncertainly at the collection of pots and pans hung about its sides, then back to the man with the odd leather cap with its long, exotic feather sticking from it at a rakish angle.
Tingle, having decided that the younger of the two appeared too dour to charm, turned his best sales smile on the other guard, a sandy haired man with an open face that had a smile lurking just below its surface.
“I am Tinglesser and I carry with me a letter of recommendation given to me personally by the Princess Caron at some little time in the past with the instruction to present it to the Princess’s maid, Mertine.”
The younger of the two guards regarded Tingle darkly, as if distrustful of this glib stranger. Tingle smiled inwardly, pleased with his carefully cultured ability to assess the sales potential of those with whom he must deal.
“I recognize you, sir,” the older guard responded, smiling pleasantly. “You had a notable lack of success here at the castle on a previous visit.” Tingle could tell by the smile that the guard remembered exactly how that visit had ended.
“Ah, but this time I come with a recommendation from the Princess herself,” Tingle pressed. “If you would be so good as to pass the message along to Mertine, I would be eternally grateful. It is a short message only.”
“But you should be dealing with the master of the kitchen, if you would be allowed to deal with anyone at all,” the guard responded.
“If you will do this one thing for me, I will repair one of your wife’s pots or pans for no charge, so urgent is my commission.”
“I have never married, thank the powers,” the guard said, making the sign against evil behind his back, “but my mother has a pot that needs a new handle.”
“Done,” said Tingle, the smile broadening as he pressed the sealed letter into the guard’s hand. “I will await an answer in the marketplace.”
“But,” the guard started as Tingle continued.
“Tell Mertine to look for the feather.” He pointed upward toward the feather. “It’s the only one like it in the entire kingdom, I’d wager.” And I’d win, too, he thought, knowing that he had colored the feather himself.
“But,” the guard tried again as Tingle opened his purse.
“Here’s a copper for your trouble,” he said.
The guard accepted defeat and nodded. “I’ll bring my mother’s pot with me to the marketplace myself. You watch for me.” The younger guard glowered at the two of them in obvious disapproval of the entire transaction.
“I will watch for you, umh ... I don’t believe I caught your name,” Tingle said as he climbed back into the driver’s box.
“It’s Albert, good tinker, and I will see you when I get off duty tomorrow.”
“I thank you for your kind assistance and I look forward to seeing you on the morrow, friend Albert,” Tingle said. Casting a smug look of satisfaction toward the younger guard, he clucked Lily to attention and turned his wagon toward the market area in the lee of the castle wall.
Before he had finished getting Lily bedded down and watered, a comely young woman in servant’s dress sidled up to him and handed him a paper, folded and sealed with a stamp he did not recognize.
“Present this to the guard at the west gate at eight o’clock this evening,” she said dropping a slight curtsy. She colored fetchingly when she glanced up at him and became aware of his appreciative evaluation.
As she retreated his voice called out to her, “Eight o’clock it will be.” Watching her walk away from him, Tingle could not help but appreciate the turn of her ankle and the swell of her hips. Young she may be, he thought before turning back to Lily, but ripe with promise for some lucky young man.
At eight o’clock sharp, Tingle strode up to the small west gate and presented the paper given him earlier in the day. One of the two guards disappeared through a side door and returned within just a very few moments accompanied by the handmaiden who had brought him the message.
“Mertine told his Highness that you would be here to see her, and he has commanded me to present you to him first,” she said, curtsying slightly. “Please come with me.” With that, she turned and started walking as if expecting him to follow.
As he made to follow her, he saw from the corner of his eye a stationary figure standing in the shadows just down the hallway in the opposite direction from the one they took. He was quite certain it was the young guard who had frowned at his interaction with Albert at the main gate earlier in the day. His interest piqued, he turned to look more closely. As he did, the young man turned away from them and walked briskly down the hallway in the opposite direction. Tingle cocked his head slightly as he tried to make some sense of what he had seen before setting off in the wake of the handmaiden.
He walked along behind her in silence, enjoying the silhouette of her narrow waist which curved out to very feminine hips which in turn moved in a frankly feminine way as she walked in front of him. He congratulated himself that the halls in this part of the castle were narrow enough that he could not walk beside her at that point.
The pleasant view before him, however, did nothing to change the fact that he was feeling more than a little intimidated by the mere fact he was in the Castle Gleneagle by the leave of the owner and on his way to meet that same owner. As they turned a corner into a wide hallway and started toward a large pair of ornate doors, his anxiety increased to the point that he could contain himself no longer. “Please don’t misinterpret my question, Miss, but are you certain I am to meet with the Prince? The Princess told me I would only be meeting with Mertine,” he said.
“Oh, I’m sure this won’t be the only surprise you will have this night,” she purred. The suggestive way in which she spoke caused him to look appraisingly at her as they walked, wondering at the difference between this image and that of the shy young woman who had given him the message in the market area.
She signed to the guards who opened the doors to Gleneagle’s study. As he entered, she turned and started back the way they had come, casting a quick glance of obvious interest over her shoulder at him as she went.
Tingle swept his hat from his head and squared his shoulders. He’s just another customer, he tried to convince himself, but failed as he looked up and was met by the intense blue eyes of Prince Gleneagle himself. The Prince stood and beckoned him forward.
“Come, Tingle. Let us not stand on formalities here.” He extended his arm in greeting and Tingle walked forward to
grasp the Prince’s hand. “So you have seen my daughter,” Gleneagle said. “How did she appear?”
“She looked terrible, Highness,” he answered truthfully, “although she was in a high good humor at the time we parted.”
Gleneagle laughed a genuine, hearty laugh. “I was told you were one to speak plainly,” he said, “and the observation is a true one.” He leaned back and gave Tingle a critical appraisal. “Would that I had more who told me so plainly what they see and feel.” He sat and indicated the chair next to him.
“Sit and tell me of my daughter, Tingle. I am starved for news of her.”
The intensity never left his face as Tingle told him about Caron and Mitchal, and Kemp and Wil.
It was late when Tingle finished relating all that he could to Gleneagle. Food and drink had been brought and consumed as he talked. At last there was a moment of awkward quiet after he finished before he yawned broadly, then looked to the prince in embarrassment.
“My apologies, Highness,” he stammered. “I don’t wish to appear rude. It’s just that I have had a long and most eventful day. I really should get back to my wagon, for I must be ready for the opening of the market in the morning. I have made a promise to one of your young gate guards who will doubt my honor should I not be there for him when he brings his mother’s pot to me for repair.”
“Whoever this guard is will have his needs attended to, Tingle,” the prince replied. “In the meantime, you are my welcome guest and will be housed appropriately here. Your wagon and horse will be taken care of until you are ready to depart.”
Summoning a page to him, the prince gave Tingle into his care and he was escorted from the prince’s study. As they arrived at the room he was to occupy during his stay, the handmaiden who had escorted him previously met them at the door.