Alisande stared. “Has King Boncorro marked it plainly, then? Are not rivers and rows of trees enough for him?”
“It would seem not,” the dragon said with disgust “He has cast some confounded sort of invisible wall all along the border. Not knowing, I flew into it full-force, and ‘tis only by good fortune that I did not break my neck! Nay, it sent me spiraling earthward, and I was hard put to pull out of the dive and find an updraft to send me aloft! I tried again, but more cautiously, and slammed into that barrier once more. Then I flew some miles farther west and tried again, but with the same result. I flew back and wended my way east, some miles past my first encounter, and soared once more southward-but the wall struck me on the snout again, and nearly crumpled me anew!”
“Oh, poor beast!” Alisande cried, and stepped up close, her hand rising to the great dark patch at the end of Stegoman’s snout. Lady Elise cried out with alarm, but Alisande paid her no heed. “Aye, I can see where the scales are broke away!”
“They shall grow anew.” Stegoman pulled his head back a little. “I am grateful for your sympathy, Majesty Alisande, but I beg you to withhold your touch-‘tis quite sore.”
“Aye, it must be indeed!” Alisande drew her hand back. “But how is this, Great One? My husband told me he had seen folk rowing across the border on the rivers and trudging across it with packs on their backs!”
“Even so; I saw them, too, and not in one place, but a dozen, for I flew along that borderland for twenty miles or more.” Stegoman’s eyes glowed with anger. “Mortal folk have no difficulty, show no sign even of knowing the exact moment when they cross the border-but I could not cross it!”
A sudden realization of strategy seized Alisande, making her stand straighten “Dragons are forbidden, then.”
“ ‘Tis rank discrimination! Why should we be barred?”
“Why,” Alisande said slowly, “because you are the Free Folk, and pride yourself on not serving any but yourselves-most notably, not serving Evil.”
“King Boncorro cannot trust us, then, can he?” Stegoman said slowly. “He cannot. Folk who are evil may, at least, be trusted to do whatever will most advance their own cause-but good folk can be trusted only to do what their consciences dictate, which is not always in the interests of a king! Mere mortal folk can do little damage, but an angry dragon is a fearsome sight indeed!”
“It is.” Stegoman preened a bit; whatever influences he might have been immune to, flattery wasn’t among them. “Nay, on reflection, I cannot blame the king for wishing to exclude us. I wonder, though, if Matthew shall gain entry through that wretched wall, or if it will keep out any whose will is not in accord with King Boncorro’s.”
Alisande felt a stab of anxiety. “I hope not, or those of my subjects who have journeyed south to visit would already harbor treason in their hearts. Mayhap if you were to walk across the border, rather than fly… ?” She frowned. “I own that it worries me greatly, Stegoman, to learn there is so much commerce across that border, that you did see more than a dozen folk crossing in only a score of miles!”
The dragon nodded. “And half of those miles must be impassable, being mountain peaks.”
“Indeed! ”Tis bad enough that folk do cross that border in both directions and so readily-but ‘tis even more alarming to learn that you cannot join Matthew!“
Stegoman frowned. “Surely, given such a state of affairs, he would follow the course of prudence and…” His voice trailed off; then he said, “No. He would not, would he?”
“Nay,” Alisande agreed. “We speak of Matthew, after all.” She turned away to hide a sudden stab of anxiety-a stab that she felt in her abdomen, and her hand automatically moved toward it. Again she forced it away. “Your Majesty!” Lady Constance came running up, short of breath. “Your Majesty, a messenger has come from Sir Guy de Toutarien!”
Hope sprang again in Alisande’s heart. “Bring him, bring him at once!”
“He comes,” the lady said. The messenger strode quickly up and knelt, bowing his head. “Enough, man!” Alisande cried impatiently. “There is no time for ceremony now! Tell me your message!”
“Why, your Majesty,” said the messenger, standing up again, “ ‘tis simply that Sir Guy does send to say that he hearkens to your message and hastens to find Lord Matthew and join him.”
“Thank Heaven!” Alisande breathed, but amazement followed hard on relief. “How did you find him so quickly?”
The messenger shrugged. “I rode toward the western mountains, and when I came in sight of them, a rider came up beside me. ‘Good day, herald,’ said he. ‘Good day,’
said I, turning to look full upon him, and added ‘sir,’ for though he wore no armor, he was girt around with a knight’s belt. ‘The mountains are a lonely place to ride,’ he said. ‘Who could you seek there?’ ‘Sir Guy de Toutarien, sir,’ I replied. ‘I have a message from the queen.’ ‘Why, I am he,’ said the knight. ‘What is her message?’ “
Lady Constance gasped. “He knew you did seek him! But how?”
“How?” Alisande shrugged impatiently. “Who can say? The earth told the grass, and the grass told the trees; then they told Sir Guy. He is so much a part of this land that the very air breathes its secrets to him. ‘How’ matters naught; it only signifies that he has heard, and goes!”
“He advises that you send me next to seek out the wizard Saul,” the herald added, “for surely, says he, two wizards shall be of greater effect than one alone.”
“You have named it! Rest, then go!”
“The Black Knight does ask a boon, though, Your Majesty,” the herald said. “He has but to name it!”
“He asks that you shelter his wife and child until he comes again.”
“Aye, certes!” Alisande looked up to the nearest knight. “A company of knights, to serve as escort to the Lady Yverne!”
“He said she would come of her own,” the herald said quickly. Alisande stared, horrified. “A gentle lady, traveling with none to guard her? And with a babe! I hope someday to boast that any woman may journey thus in safety in my land-but I would not think it yet!”
A sentry cried out from the western tower. Alisande turned and followed his pointing arm. There, with the morning sun gilding his wings, came a very strange monster-one with the head of a dragon, the hindquarters of a lion, and the wings of an eagle-if eagles had ever had wingspans of fifty feet. “ ‘Tis the dracogriff Narlh!” Alisande cried. “But what does he carry?’
The answer became clear as the monster came closer. A woman rode between his wings, carrying something in her arms. “ ‘Tis the Lady Yverne!” Lady Constance cried. Then they all had to turn away, shielding their faces from blowing dust and grit as the dracogriff settled to the ground-all except Stegoman, who only slitted his eyes and called out, “Well met, cat tail! How came you here?”
“As if you didn’t know,” Narlh snorted. “I hate flying!”
“The more gallant you were, then, to bring me,” Lady Yverne said. “Well, for you, sure,” Narlh grumbled, turning his head back to look at his passenger-and she leaned forward to kiss his nose. He yanked his head back, but his scales seemed to redden. Two knights were already there to help her down. “Descend, Lady! Yet will you not give us your burden first?”
“Only to a woman,” Yverne said firmly, and Queen Alisande herself beat Lady Elise and Lady Constance to the draco’s side. She reached up, and the lady handed down her precious bundle. Alisande cradled it in her elbow, turning the blanket back to reveal a smooth little face, blinking itself awake. “Oh, how sweet! But come quickly, milady, for he wakes!”
“She.” Yveme slid down, the knights catching her at waist and shoulder to ease her fall. She took the baby from Alisande with a smile. “I am blessed that my firstborn is a girl-but I hope also to give Sir Guy a boy.”
“I hope so, too,” Alisande said fervently. Sir Guy was the secret heir to Emperor Hardishane, and very eager not to resume the throne-but it was vital to the safety of Europe
, and to the triumph of God and Good, that the male line of Hardishane’s descent be unbroken. “Come, you must be wearied!” Alisande led her guest away toward the castle, then turned back to call, “Many thanks, Narlh! Grooms! Fetch this noble dracogriff an ox to eat!”
“Thanks, your Majesty,” Narlh called back, then turned to Stegoman. “Your family sent their greetings, just in case I should bump into you, fish face.”
“I hope they have honored you as you deserve, feather tip.” And the two monsters went away toward the stables, companionably trading insults. But Alisande didn’t notice-she was too busy ogling the new arrival. “Oh, you are so fortunate to have a child so soon!”
“I have not the cares of state to distract my body from its purpose,” Yverne said, smiling. “You must load more of your burden onto your husband, Majesty.” Then she looked at Alisande more sharply, and stared. “Yes, you must, and right quickly, too!”
Alisande turned away, blushing. “Is it so obvious as that?‘
‘To any who has borne a child, aye-but do not ask me how. Oh, I rejoice for you, your Majesty! For you, and for all the land!“ Then Yverne stared in horror. ”But what a time for Lord Matthew to be gone playing the knight errant!“
“Aye,” Alisande said grimly, “and the more fool I, for having sent him from me. But he was restless, and I could not see any harm in the mission-nor that it might take any great time, either.” She closed the solar door firmly behind them, in the face of an amazed guard. “Come, sit in the chair by the window and nurse, for the babe begins to fret!”
“Aye, the poor thing. I thank your Majesty.” Yverne sat down, loosened her bodice, and cuddled the baby against her breast. She sighed with pleasure and satisfaction, gazing down at the little face. Alisande felt a pang at her own heart, seeing the other woman radiant with happiness. “I regret that I cannot stay to be a proper hostess and give you full company.”
“Not stay!” Yverne looked up, appalled. “Your Majesty! You do not mean to go after your husband! Not at such a time!”
“But I must,” Alisande said simply, “for what would I do if he did not come back to me?”
Chapter 6
Matt didn’t know which had shaken him more, the close shave or the manticore itself. Either way, it took until nightfall for him to work up the courage to try again-especially since the logical question was, why bother? After all, it wasn’t as if Latruria was about to attack Merovence! Or was it? What was going on in Latruria that King Boncorro didn’t want one of Alisande’s wizards to see? So the manticore itself was answer enough. If the king or one of his officials-say, his Lord Chancellor-had sicced the monster on Matt to keep him out, there must be a really good reason why he should go in! So he pumped up his courage, hunted around in the moonlight, and finally found a fold in the earth that he might have overlooked even in daylight. You couldn’t really call it a gully-it was only seven feet or so deep, and scarcely wide enough for Matt to walk through without turning sideways. It looked like the kind of thing a glacier might have gouged as an afterthought on its way back up the peak for the long summer. And if he might have overlooked it, maybe the manticore had, too-assuming that whatever sort of magical homing sense it had couldn’t pinpoint him too exactly. Which was quite a big assumption. Too big. Matt came tiptoeing up out of the cleft on its far end muttering a verse that ought to stop any attackers, just in case-and a yowl of triumph filled the air as an extra couple of crescents flashed in the sky. “Creep in a petty pace from now till day!” Matt shouted as he leaped back into the gully. “In halting syllables of unrecorded time!” He sprinted back toward the Merovencian border, not daring to look back until he shot out the other end of the drawlet. Then he whirled to look back, just as the yowl ended in a curse as the monster hit the ground. It bounded up again instantly, heading straight for him-but it moved so slowly that before its hind legs had fully cleared the earth, it had time to shout, “I shall be revenged! My master shall banish this spell in an instant!”
“Just glad I had it ready to shout,” Matt said with a shudder. He turned his back and walked away, leaving the manticore suspended in midair. Twenty feet more and he heard a sudden thud and a yowl of victory, followed by a SPLAT! and a howl of rage. Matt could almost see the manticore suddenly speeding up to normal, landing, and charging straight at him, but slamming into the Wall of Octroi again. He kept going. If King Boncorro was so determined not to have fellow magicians come visiting, maybe Matt ought to let him have his own way and be lonely-at least, intellectually. But he didn’t quite have it in him to quit. It was that same dogged persistence that had brought him to Merovence in the first place-he wouldn’t stop trying to translate an untranslatable fragment of manuscript, had just kept repeating its syllables over and over again until they had made sense-and had found himself in an alien city, understanding a language that had never been spoken in his own universe of universities and political offices for out-of-work actors. Now, for the same reason, he kept prowling about the border, feeling weariness drag at him more and more heavily-but every time he looked south around another rock, there stood the manticore, glaring balefully at him with glowing eyes and glinting teeth. The sky lightened with false dawn as Matt’s eyelids weighted with fatigue-so he wasn’t looking where he was going, or stepping as lightly as he might have, which was no doubt why he tripped over something that jerked bolt upright with a shout of fear and alarm. “Sorry, sorry!” Matt backed away, holding up both palms in a placating gesture. “I didn’t mean to wake you, didn’t mean to trip over… Pascal!”
“Why, it is the Knight of Bath!” Pascal threw his blanket back, rubbing his eyes. “How came you here?”
“Trying to cross into Latruria for a, uhm, visit, but I’ve got a stumbling block…”
“Aye-my leg!”
“I said I was sorry. Now it’s your turn.”
“What-to say I am sorry?” Pascal stared, trying to decide whether or not to be offended.
“No-to tell me what you’re doing here!”
“Ah!”Pascal nodded. “I,too, am seeking to cross into Latruria-for a visit.”
Matt smiled, amused. “Well, we seem to be going in the same direction. But why did you camp out on this side of the border?” He wondered if the young man had met the manticore, too. “There was no reason to hurry ahead, and there was a stream nearby,” Pascal explained. “But why have you not yet crossed? You set out a day ahead of me!”
“I’ve encountered a problem. What made you start right from the count’s castle, instead of going home first?”
“Ah.” Pascal’s face clouded. “As to that, there was some disagreement with my father.”
“Oh.” Matt instantly pictured a howling fight, ending with a box on the ear followed by a slamming exit. “About… Charlotte?”
“Aye. He was not happy to learn that I had told her I did not wish to marry. Her father, too, was angry, and had spoken ill of me to my own father.”
“He couldn’t understand that not being in love is a reason for not marrying?”
“Not when it was not he who would be doing the marrying,” Pascal said bitterly. “He told me that folk do not fall in love, they grow to love one another, as he and Mother had. I asked him if that was why there had been so little joy in their marriage. ‘Twas then that he struck me and I stalked out.”
“Afraid you might hit him, huh?‘
“Even so.” Pascal looked up, surprised. “You have had an argument much like that?”
“Several. My father didn’t see any sense in studying literature. Your father did have one point, though-Charlotte’s a pretty girl, and she certainly seems sweet.”
“Yes, she is!” Pascal said quickly. “A surer friend I could never hope for-but she is not the one I love.”
“Oh.” Matt lifted his head slowly, pursing his lips. “Yes, that would make Charlotte less fascinating, wouldn’t it? So your lady love lives in Latruria, and you’re traveling south to see her. What did you say her name was?”
> “She is a lady of rarest beauty and grace.” Pascal gazed off into the distance with a fatuous smile. “Her hair is golden, her eyes the blue of the sea, her face a marvel of daintiness and sweetness.”
“Sounds like love, all right.” Personally, Matt thought Pascal was doomed to disappointment, if the girl really was that beautiful. The squire’s son was downright homely, with a long face, thin lips, and gaunt cheeks. His only claim to attractiveness was his eyes, which were large, dark, and expressive. Frankly, Matt thought he’d been fantastically lucky to attract Charlotte as much as he had. Of course, her father’s orders had helped… “How did you say you met this gem?”
“At a gathering last summer. Our Latrurian cousins guested us-and I met Panegyra! One look, and I was transported!”
Not far enough, Matt guessed. “Love at first sight, eh?”
“Aye, and ‘twas hard to find a moment to speak to her alone, so hemmed in was she with duennas and sisters and aunts! But I contrived-I bided my time and caught her in a quiet moment, with others far enough distant for me to tell her my name and praise her beauty. She laughed, calling it flattery-but I saw an answering spark in her eyes! She feels as strongly toward me as I toward her! I know it!”
“Lovers know many things that are not true,” Matt said slowly. “I seem to remember something about being cousins…”
“Aye, somewhere low on our family trees-third cousins at least, more probably fifth or sixth. Surely it could not matter!”
“Nothing does, to a lover-at least, not until after the wedding. So she hasn’t told you she loves you, and you haven’t proposed?”
“Nay, but I am sure she does, and I shall!”
“Seems pretty thin grounds for walking out on your family and heading south to see her.”
“But I must!” Pascal raised feverish eyes. “For yesterday, one of my southern cousins told me that sweet Panegyra has been betrothed! Nay, worse-she is to be wed within the month! I must stop her! I must tell her of my burning love, that she may turn away from this gouty old vulture her father would force upon her! I must save her from such a fate!”
Secular Wizard Page 11