The Warlock is Missing wisoh-7

by Christopher Stasheff

  "I cannot like any man who fights our King and Queen," Cordelia declared, "no matter how the cause they claim doth glitter with goodness. He who fights not for Their Majesties, fights against the Law they seek to uphold." She turned to Geoffrey. "Join him? Nay, brother. If aught, thou shouldst join battle against him, and work his downfall."

  Geoffrey frowned. "Dost thou truly think so?" He shrugged. "Well, then, as thou wilt. I'll not contest, when thou and Magnus do agree—the more especially when Greg-ory is of a mind with the two of thee."

  Phebe gave a nasty laugh. "Hast thou no mind of thine own, then?"

  "Only for matters that interest me. For affairs of state, I care not, so long as there be battle and glory within it. Nay, I'd as liefer fight against thy Shire-Reeve as for him."

  Phebe laughed again, but in disbelief. "Nay, assuredly thou mayest do as thou wilt! Go, bear thy swords of lath against the Shire-Reeve! For what matter can mere children make, when armies clash?"

  Cordelia's face darkened, and her chin came up. "Mayhap more matter than thou canst know, when those children are the High Warlock's brood."

  Phebe stared. Then, slowly, she said, "Aye, they might, an they were such highborn children. Art thou truly they?"

  Gregory tugged at Cordelia's skirt. "What is 'highborn'?"

  "A deal of nonsense that grown folk speak," she answered impatiently.

  "'Tis only the highborn who can think so." Phebe frowned, stroking the pouting fullness of her lower lip.

  Abruptly, she seemed to come to a decision. Her face cleared, and she beamed down at the children. "Nay, surely, two fellows so brave as thyselves must needs strengthen any army! Wilt thou not, then, come with me to the Shire-Reeve?"

  Her voice was velvet and silk; her heavily-lidded eyes seemed to glow into theirs. She stretched out a hand in welcome.

  Magnus and Geoffrey stared at her, their eyes fairly bulging.

  "Come, then," Phebe breathed, "for I am of his army, too."

  Magnus took one wooden step toward her. So did Geoffrey.

  "Nay!" Cordelia cried. "What dost thou? Canst not see the falseness in her?"

  "Be still, small hussy," Phebe hissed.

  But her brothers seemed not even to hear her. They moved toward Phebe—slowly, almost stumbling, but moving. She nodded in encouragement, eyes glowing.

  Inside the children's heads, Fess's voice said, "Beware, Magnus, Geoffrey! The woman uses her beauty as she would use you!"

  "Why, she cannot use us, if we fight willingly," Geoffrey muttered.

  Gregory threw himself toward them, catching Geoffrey's hand. "What spell is this? Nay, turn! How hath she entranced thee?"

  "Knowest thou not?" Phebe breathed. "Thou, too, art male, though very young. Wilt thou, too, not come to fight for the Shire-Reeve?"

  "Nay, never!" Gregory stated. "What hast thou done?"

  "Thou'lt learn when thou art older, I doubt not," Phebe said with scorn. "Away! Thou hast no worth yet! But thy brothers…" She gazed at the two elder boys, running the tip of her tongue over her lower lip. "They will come to me." She held out both hands. Gazing up at her, Magnus took one. Geoffrey took her other hand. Smiling in triumph, she turned away, strolling down the footpath with Magnus and Geoffrey to either side. She spared one quick, scornful glance back over her shoulder at Cordelia.

  The forsaken sister clenched her fists. "Oh! The hussy! Quickly, Gregory! We cannot let her take our brothers!"

  "But how can we stop them?" Gregory asked.

  "I know not! Oh! What manner of witchcraft is this, that I have never heard of?"

  "Nor never will, from the look of thee," Phebe called maliciously. But the path seemed to explode in front of her, and she pulled back with a cry of alarm.

  "Puck," Magnus muttered.

  Phebe cast him a quick look of horror, then stared at the elf in the pathway in front of her. "It cannot truly be!"

  "Yet it is!" Puck leveled a finger at her. "And I adjure thee, witch, to break this spell! Release these boys, ere thou dost rue it!"

  The threat seemed to restore Phebe a little. She straightened, looking down her nose at him. "What glamour is this!-There be no elves, nor any spirits! Thou mayest cease thine enchantment, child—I'll not believe it!" And she stepped forward on the pathway.

  "Hold!" Puck's voice was a whiplash. "Ere I give thy body the semblance of thy soul, and make thy face the image of thy virtue!"

  The girl blanched. "Thou couldst not truly!"

  "Could I not, then?" The Puck's eyes glittered. "And art thou not the harpy who doth delight in tormenting men? What semblance wilt thou have, then?"

  Slowly, Phebe's eyelids drooped, and her full lips curved into their smile. Magnus and Geoffrey stared up at her, spellbound, but her gaze was now for Puck. "Thou art male," she purred, "and great of spirit, though small of stature. Nay, then, canst thou not imagine my delights?"

  Puck snorted in derision. "Nay, nor can I think thou hast any! What! Canst thou truly think thyself the equal of a fairy lady? But look into mine eyes, lass, and learn what charms may be!"

  And she was looking into his eyes, of course, to try to cast her spell over him—but now she found that she could not break her gaze away.

  "Now, regard," Puck said softly, coming closer. His eyes glittered as he sang,

  "Golden slumbers kiss thine eyes! Do not wake till moon doth rise! Sleep, pretty wanton, do not cry, And I shall sing a lullaby! Rock her, rock her, lullaby!"

  Her eyelids drooped, and kept on drooping. They closed, and she nodded, as Puck's voice went on in eldritch singing. Her head jerked up once, and she blinked, trying valiantly to stay awake—but Puck kept on singing, and her eyes closed. She sank to the ground, head pillowed on one arm, and her breast rose and fell with the slow, even rhythm of sleep.

  Puck smiled down at her, gloating.

  Then he turned to the two boys who stood staring dumbly down at the sleeping peasant maid, and clapped his hands in front of Magnus's face. "Waken! What! Wilt thou let a woman lead thee by the nose?"

  Magnus's head snapped up as he suddenly came out of his trance.

  Puck had already turned to Geoffrey. "Wake! For thou hast lost thy battle ere it began!"

  Geoffrey's head whiplashed; then his eyes focused on Puck. "Battle? What fight is this?"

  "Why, the struggle for thy will, my lad! What! Wilt thou let a woman lead thee into fighting for a man thou knowest to be evil?"

  Geoffrey's gaze darkened. "Nay! Never would I!"

  "Yet thou didst!" Cordelia came up. "Thou didst, and only Robin's rescue did save thee from it!"

  Geoffrey turned to her, hot words upon his tongue; but Puck said, "Remember," and the boy froze, appalled as he suddenly remembered how he had let himself be caught.

  Puck nodded, watching his face. "Aye. So easily wast thou mastered."

  "It will never happen again!"

  But Magnus, more carefully, said, "I pray not."

  "Pray strongly, then—for any man may be caught by women's beauty, and few are the men who have not been. Yet not 'men,' neither, for that man is not a man, who may be so entranced by a woman that, at one sight of her, he doth forget all that he hath undertaken, all that he doth strive to do, all duty that remains. Nay, an he doth, then the woman hath mastered him—and how can he then be a man?"

  But Cordelia had a gleam in her eye. "'Tis a power to be desired."

  "Aye, for a lass—but 'tis one to be proof against, for a man. There be many good women, yet there be many also like to this Phebe, who will very willingly use their charms to govern men, an they can—so be not overly concerned with the pleasures they promise."

  Cordelia frowned, looking as though she wasn't too sure she liked this line of talk. She couldn't really object to it, given the provisos Puck had stipulated; but she could set the record straight. "'Tis a foul slut, belike." She wasn't sure what a slut was, but she'd heard grown-ups use the term, and knew that it was an insult. "Yet though this Phebe hath a certain tawdry sort
of prettiness, it cannot be the sole source of her power."

  Puck agreed. "There's truth in that. She is a common milkmaid, look you, and, though she is attractive, I've seen far more beauteous women among the ranks of mortal females."

  "Doubtless there is some element of the projective telepath in her, too," Fess said. "She is quite probably a minor witch, though she knows it not—an esper who can project her own thoughts effectively enough to hyponotize instantly. And, since she thinks her greatest strength is her physical attraction, her projective ability is naturally linked to it. Thus her effect on men is mesmerizing, both literally as well as figuratively."

  "What doth he say?" Geoffrey asked.

  "That she is an enchantress," Gregory summarized!

  Geoffrey cast him a look of annoyance, but he couldn't argue.

  "Yet surely she's enough a hazard so that the knight who rules this parish would stop her," Magnus insisted. "How cometh she to be yet free to work such havoc, Puck?"

  "Why, for that she hath not begun it till two days agone," Puck sighed. "Bethink thee, lad—from what she said, this Shire-Reeve whom she doth support, did begin his work directly after thy mother and father went wandering. Ere he can stop her, the parish knight must learn how she doth turn young men away from his service—and how is he to find that out, when all she doth is chat with them?"

  "But can he not see that she doth twist them to her purpose?" Cordelia protested.

  "There's no law 'gainst that, and if there were, I doubt me not there'd be few weddings. Nay, lass—our goodly knight must needs decide that teasing can be treason—which thou dost know, since thou hast seen it; but grown men would have trouble crediting it."

  "Aye," Cordelia said. "They are puffed up with importance. How could they deign to notice so small a thing? It would quite make them seem much smaller than they wish to be."

  Puck eyed her with a new respect. "Thou wilt be most dangerous, when thou art grown. Yet thou hast the right of it—men who are surfeited with their own importance, scarce can bring themselves to acknowledge things so small as jests and rumors. That's the reason whispers are so hard to guard against, and thus can do great damage."

  Geoffrey frowned. "I do begin to comprehend. Papa hath told me that rumor can bring down armies."

  "This may be one reason," Puck agreed. "Another is that within the featherbed of rumor, there's ofttimes a pea of truth, and who can tell what is and is not false? What proof is there that this Shire-Reeve doth not work for Their Majesties, and for the kingdom's good? Only what we ourselves have heard from this wench."

  "And how could the knight credit what she doth say?" Cordelia murmured. "She's but a milkmaid, and she speaks against the King's Reeve."

  Puck nodded. "Thus, how's the knight to know the Shire-Reeve will speak him false? Or that thou wouldst speak truly?"

  "Aye." Magnus's mouth tightened. "We're but children, and she and the Reeve are grown-ups."

  "Yet wilt thou do better when thou art grown?" Puck asked.

  "Be sure, I will!" Geoffrey stated. "Children or milkmaids, high or low, I'll hearken to them all, and give full thought to all I hear!"

  Puck nodded, satisfied. "Now thou dost begin to comprehend. AH folk must be allowed to speak their minds, whether thou dost think them wise or foolish—and thou must weigh what they do say, on chance that the most unlikely of them may be right. Therefore thou must needs see it enshrined in the highest Law of the Land, as thy father doth seek to do. If thou dost not, evil men may keep good folk from learning of their evil deeds."

  "Why, how shall they do that?" Magnus questioned.

  "By punishing all who speak against them in even the slightest way," Puck explained. "If thou dost let the law prohibit certain words, then evil men will punish folk that they dislike, by claiming they did speak the words prohibited."

  "So." Magnus frowned down at Phebe. "Much though we dislike what she hath done, we must not bind her over to the knight?"

  "Nay, that thou mayest do—but thou canst not forbid her to speak, even though thou dost know that she will lie, and claim she did naught of what thou sayest. Thou must needs prove she did as thou dost say."

  "Which we cannot, of course." Magnus's mouth tightened. "Yet is there naught we can do to keep her from working her havoc, Puck?"

  "Why, warn all the lads of the village about her, of course." Puck grinned. "And if they do heed thee, she'll have naught to do but rage."

  "If," Cordelia said, darkly. "Can we do naught with her, then?"

  Puck shrugged. "Leave her, and let her sleep. Come, children—let us seek out her commander."

  "The Shire-Reeve?" Geoffrey grinned. "Nay, then! We'll have battle from him, one way or another!"

  "Where does this Shire-Reeve quarter, then?"

  Chapter 9

  Magnus asked the question clearly enough, but his eyelids were drooping.

  "In Luganthorpe village," Puck said, the light of the camp-fire flickering on his face. "'Tis but two hours' march, in the morning."

  "What else have the elves said about him?" Cordelia stroked Gregory's hair, head pillowed in her lap. His eyes were closed; he was already asleep.

  "Only that he doth gather his army of plowboys, even as Phebe did say," Puck answered, "and that he hath sallied forth against a pack of bandits in the hills."

  "And be there truly so many bandits as she did say?" Geoffrey asked, between yawns.

  "As many, and as quickly risen."

  For a moment, Geoffrey came fully alert. "Such doth not happen without planning and readying."

  "Nay, it doth not." Puck's eyes glittered. "There be some that have prepared these folk for thy parents' disappearance, children."

  "Then we shall fight them!"

  "That thou shalt not! 'Tis the King's place, not thine." Puck smiled. "Yet I think we may be of some small service to him…"

  "Now—seize them!"

  Rough hands grabbed the children; other hands whipped coils of rope around them, pinning their arms to their sides. An ugly man with a steel cap laughed into Cordelia's face. She recoiled at the reek of his breath.

  A horse's scream, flashing hooves, and Fess was rearing, battering.at the steel breastplates. The men shouted in panic and leaped back.

  *

  "Nay!" one cried. "'Tis but a horse! Have at him!"

  The others turned with shouts, two jabbing at Fess with pikes. Fess slashed at one, who leaped back; then the great horse whirled toward the other, slamming down with his full weight. The man skipped back, but a hoof grazed his shoulder and sent him spinning. Another leaped in to replace him.

  "Haul those brats away!" the eldest shouted, and four other men hoisted the children.

  Fess wheeled from one attacker, back toward the man holding Geoffrey, then pivoted toward the one holding Cordelia. While he did, a soldier stabbed upward with a pike. The point rang against the steel under Fess's horsehair, and the black stallion turned back toward him—but his movements had slowed. The children heard his voice in their heads: Sollldierzz… musst not take… children…

  Abruptly, Fess's legs went stiff, and his head dropped down, swinging loosely from the neck, nose almost grazing the ground.

  He hath had a seizure! Cordelia thought.

  I shall be revenged upon these scum who have hurt him! Geoffrey's thoughts were dark with anger.

  The soldiers braced themselves, eyeing the stilled horse with trepidation. Then one reached out and thrust against Fess's shoulder. When the horse didn't respond, he thrust harder. Fess rocked back, but made no reaction. "Is it dead, then?' the soldier asked.

  "We'll make it so." The other soldier swung his pike up to chop with the axe-blade.

  "Away!" barked the oldest man. "'Tis a witch horse; leave it. Dost thou wish to have its ghost pursue thee?"

  The soldier leaped back and crossed himself quickly.

  The oldest man looked about the clearing to make sure everything was under control. He was a grizzled bear of a man in his fifties.
"Dost thou have them, Grobin?" he called.

  "Aye, Auncient! Though they have struggled some." Gro-bin came up, holding Geoffrey and Magnus kicking and squalling one under each arm. He chuckled. "Eh, they are mettlesome lads!"

  "What shall I do with this one?" A hulking man in a steel cap and breastplate came up, tossing Gregory like a ball. The child wailed in terror.

  Cordelia, Geoffrey, and Magnus's gazes snapped to the thug, and he came within a hairsbreadth of death that moment.

  But he never knew it, for the grizzled bear of a man they called "Auncient" said, "Why, take him to Milord Count, even as these others. Come!"

  The soldiers slung the children over their shoulders as though they were bags of potatoes. Their steel-clad joints knocked the wind out of the children, but even as Geoffrey struggled for breath, his face hardened and his eyes lost focus. Magnus's thought echoed in his mind: Nay! They've done naught to merit death!

  Geoffrey glared at him; but he held himself back.

  Wherefore hath Puck not driven away these clods? Geoffrey demanded.

  He must not see need enough, Magnus answered.

  'Tis true… We are not harmed… But Geoffrey's thoughts were dark.

  Peace, brother, Magnus consoled him. Thou wilt have free rein to work havoc, when we're sure these men work evil.

  The soldiers trooped through patches of moonlight into a larger clearing nearby and brought the children up to a knot of horsemen. At their head sat a man in full armor, on a huge mount. As the soldiers came up, he lifted his visor. "Well done, Auncient."

  "I thank you, Milord." The auncient touched his forelock in respect. "'Twas easily done, of course."

  "What was that scream, and the shouting that followed it?"

  "A war-horse sprang upon us—but he froze of a sudden, as though he'd been cursed." The auncient crossed himself. "Are there sorcerers in this wood, Milord?"

  " 'Tis no matter, an they side with us." The nobleman was frowning down at the children. "What wast thou about, babes in the woods? How came ye here alone?"

  A soldier shoved Magnus. He glared up at the nobleman. "We search for our parents."