by Lee Duigon
Could there be a secret passage somewhere? From his years of service in the Temple, Martis knew all about secret passages and how to find them. He made an expert search: no secret passage here. He stopped searching for one and sat down on his bed to think.
“Gallgoid again—it must have been him,” he said to himself. “Suddenly he’s very busy.” How Gallgoid could have spirited Jack out of the room, with its one door locked and a guard in front of it, was a mystery.
It would be an even deeper mystery, he thought, if he waited until the morning to say anything about Jack’s disappearance. Let the guard think Jack was still here. Let him think Jack had vanished in the middle of the night, while Martis slept. “It won’t be hard to appear to be utterly mystified, myself,” he thought.
He fell asleep at last, but not for long. Something pinched his cheek. He almost slapped at it.
It should have been pitch dark inside the room, with the lamps out and the shutters closed. But the shutters were open and moonlight poured over his bed. Martis could see. A few inches from his nose, Wytt crouched beside his pillow, softly chattering at him. After just a moment of confusion, Martis grinned.
“Where’s Jack?” he whispered. “Do you know?”
Ellayne had taught Wytt to bob his head for “yes.” He bobbed emphatically and jerked his stick up and down.
“Is he safe?”
Yes, Jack was safe. “If only I could understand your talk!” Martis said. “I’d have a lot of questions for you.
“But if you can understand me, listen. Ellayne and her father are here, with some of the men from Ninneburky.” Wytt, of course, already knew that, but he didn’t interrupt. He didn’t understand Martis as well as he understood Jack or Ellayne, but he understood enough. “If Jack can get to them, he’ll be safe. Can you get Jack out of the palace?”
Wytt made a movement that was almost a shrug. When he did it, he looked eerily human. He didn’t know whether he could get Jack out, Martis supposed.
“Well, see if you can find a way out. But in the meantime, keep him safe. Don’t let anybody see him.”
Wytt hopped onto the windowsill and beckoned Martis to join him. Martis watched him scurry up to the next higher window. He stood on the sill and chirped, and in a moment Jack leaned out.
“Ah! There you are!” It was a relief to see him, but Martis didn’t dare raise his voice. “Will you be all right up there?”
Jack nodded and waved. He was afraid to make any noise. Martis understood. “Stay until I come for you—tomorrow, if I can.” He wished he could ask Jack how he’d gotten up there. He didn’t like to think of the boy climbing the wall.
They waved to each other one more time, and then Martis drew the shutters closed and fastened them.
“It ought to be an interesting day tomorrow,” he thought.
CHAPTER 34
Iolo in Command
In Silvertown that same night, Iolo received the reports of his scouts with disbelief.
“A whole army has materialized out of the forest, as if by magic?” he growled. “And you knew nothing of it until the next day dawned and there it was? King Ryons’ army?”
“It’s not easy to get close to Lintum Forest,” replied his chief of scouts, a one-time Lintum forest outlaw. Toothless Umbo was his name. “Those little men with the poison arrows make it dangerous.”
Iolo had set up his quarters in the chamber house and commandeered the last intact desk left in the city, along with a heavy, expensively carved chair usually occupied by Goryk Gillow. He sprang out of that chair and grabbed Umbo by the shirt, almost pulling him onto the desk.
“I’m more dangerous to you than anyone from Lintum Forest, and you’d better not forget it!” He shook the scout and shoved him backward. Had he not slammed into the wall, Umbo would have fallen. “Ye gods—what do I have scouts for, if not to provide me with intelligence? Something that you lack! Would it be too much to ask for an estimate of that army’s numbers?”
Umbo didn’t like getting thrown into walls. He’d murdered men for less. Iolo knew that, but didn’t care.
“They’ve got a lot more men than we do, I’ll say that much,” Umbo answered. “Looks like he’s got most of those black men who went into the forest last year with Mardar Wusu and never came out again. Well, they’re out now. I’d say a few hundred of them.
“Also a lot of Wallekki with their horses and bunches of Abnaks, Griffs, Fazzan, and Dahai. I’d guess they’ve got at least four thousand men.”
Iolo ground his teeth: four thousand men advancing against him—“and Goryk had to go prancing off to Obann with the only weapon in the world that could have saved us!” he thought. “That leaves me with two thousand men and a lot of broken-down walls and a townful of hungry slaves who’ll cut our throats if they get half a chance. And the nearest reinforcements on the other side of the mountains.” He slumped back into his chair.
“We’ll have to make a fight of it,” he said. “Are Helki and the boy king with the army?”
“No one’s seen them,” Umbo said, “but, yes, I think they are. I think it’s their whole cuss’t force come out against us.”
“Go and wake Osfal the Wallekki,” Iolo said, “and tell him to saddle up his fastest horses and his three best riders. We’ll have to send East for help, and quickly. And then you and your so-called men can go back out and watch that army. I want to know every move they make, and I want to get a report from you every day. Do you hear me? Every day! I want no more surprises.”
“Aye, General.” Toothless Umbo saluted ungracefully and went off to rouse the Wallekki chief, while Iolo groped for a piece of parchment and a pen. He was too furious to write coherently. With a great effort, he made his hand stop trembling. By the time Osfal joined him, he’d printed out his messages.
“Find the nearest mardar with an army and give this message to him. If he can’t read it, tell him what it says: ‘King Ryons attacking Silvertown with four thousand men. Make haste!’” Iolo paused to take a breath. “Tell him that if Silvertown falls, our master King Thunder will blame him.”
“How long can we hold this place?” the lean Wallekki asked.
“How the devil should I know? Rouse all the crews and put them to work on the defenses—right now. All other work to be suspended.”
“Shall I organize a sortie?” Osfal said. “A surprise attack may slow their progress for a day or more.”
Iolo was a general now, in command of an army and a city. But he’d never served at any rank higher than the sergeant of a hundred spears, and he knew very little about being a general. At the moment, he was acutely conscious of it.
“If you think you can slow them down, Chieftain, I leave it in your hands,” he said. “But remember that we don’t have men to spare. No death-or-glory charges!”
Osfal laughed softly. “Those are good enough for songs and legends,” he said, “but are not attractive, otherwise. There are no men in my following who are ready to die just yet. Not for glory, at least.”
“Let no word of this be spoken to the people of the city,” Iolo said. “I may be only a dumb soldier,” he thought, “but I know that much.” If the people of Silvertown heard that help was coming, they’d make trouble.
With the Wallekki and the Attakotts screening its flanks, and the king placed safely in the center with his Ghols, Ryons’ army marched on Silvertown.
Ryons remembered the first time the army came this way, when he was still a slave and the men still Heathen. The soldiers on the walls had taunted them, enraging the chieftains. But without siege equipment there was little they could do, and after a few ill-considered attacks, they’d marched away. The army that followed after them had towers, rams, and catapults, and they took the city for the Thunder King.
“We don’t have any siege machines this time, either,” Ryons said to Helki, as Helki marched beside him.
“Do you know what Chief Zekelesh says to that, Your Majesty?” Helki said. “He says, ‘We have somet
hing better than siege towers. We have the blessing of Almighty God.’ I think that ought to count for something. I’d be right grateful for some catapults: but then who here knows how to use a catapult?”
The army sang its anthem lustily, “His mercy endureth forever.” They’d added a new verse to it, invented by Chief Buzzard of the Abnaks. “He feeds us on victory, while the Heathen eat shame. He preserves our scalps—we glory in His name.” All the nations in the army sang it now.
Ryons was afraid his army would shatter on the city walls. He didn’t quite know how to say so, and so he didn’t mention it. “I’m only a boy,” he thought. “What do I know about walled cities?” But they’d been beaten once before at Silvertown, and he couldn’t forget it.
The first day on the march, a group of Wallekki from the city tried to take them in the flank. A flight of poisoned arrows stopped them: they’d never seen the Attakotts hiding in the grass. Ryons’ own Wallekki would have pursued, but Chief Shaffur, in command of all the horses, wouldn’t allow it.
“The quicker the march, the better we’ll fight at the end of it,” he said, when he reported the incident to Helki. “Besides, those men who attacked us were men without a tribe, mere slaves of the Thunder King. It wouldn’t have suited our dignity to chase them.”
“They might not be strong enough to keep us away from the city,” Helki said. “I reckon their real strength is in the walls. Men won’t stop us, but stone walls might.”
The army camped that night behind a ring of sharpened stakes driven into the ground, a precaution introduced by the Hosa, who said it was their custom when campaigning in enemy territory. All around the camp, for a good mile outward, Wallekki and Attakotts patrolled throughout the night. But no enemy came near enough to be detected.
“They’ll be watching us, though, you can be sure of that,” said Helki. “I hope they like what they see.”
Ryons fell asleep, soothed by the sound of Hosa campfire songs and a Ghol plucking the plaintive strings of a catgut-and-tortoise-shell music box.
In Ninneburky, Enith had supper with the baroness.
She’d had a trying day. In the absence of the baron, the militia continued its hunt for the snatchers. So far they’d caught three of them, plus one unhappy vagrant. Enith had had to identify them. They’d let the innocent man go, with a silver coin for his pains, and had locked up the others. When the baron returned, they would probably be hanged.
“I can’t bear to think of it,” Enith said, when the baroness brought her into her parlor. “What those men did was wrong—but should they die for it? After all, they didn’t really hurt us. I was scared of them, when they had us. But when I saw them today, they just looked like three poor, helpless fools.”
Vannett patted her hand. “You have a compassionate heart,” she said.
“Those men never would have done anything to us at all,” Enith said, “except for their chief. And he’s the one who got away!”
The men under guard in Ninneburky were nothing, but she was still afraid of Ysbott. That was a wicked man, and he surely would have hurt the girls—ransom or no ransom, she thought—had they not escaped before he ran out of patience. And he was still out there, somewhere, maybe planning to steal into the town by night, or in disguise, and seek revenge. Ellayne was safe with her father, miles away from here. “But he can still get me,” Enith thought. She was afraid to go to bed at night.
She’d told the whole story to Vannett, including the part about Ellayne’s magic light (or whatever it was). The baroness hardly knew what to make of it.
“Never mind,” she said. “Your Aunt Lanora is making us a very nice supper, and you can stay with us until all those men are caught. We’ll read some of the Scriptures together this evening, and maybe play some cards. It’s lonely for me here with the baron and Ellayne away, and Jack. But you’re a help to me, Enith. I’m very glad to have your company.”
They’d missed their reading time this afternoon when Enith had had to go and see the prisoners. To her surprise, she’d truly missed it. Was it only because Vannett’s presence soothed her, or was there something in those ancient writings that spoke to a part of her that she’d never known existed?
“Thank you, ma’am,” she said. “That’ll be nice.”
“I used to worry all the time,” Vannett said, “about the silliest things. What kind of dresses Ellayne ought to wear and what certain people would think of them. Whether my husband would ever become an oligarch, and what the other oligarchs’ wives would think of me. And then Ellayne ran off with Jack, and no one could find them, and so I had something really serious to worry me! I don’t know how I didn’t lose my mind the whole time she was gone.
“And then the bell rang, King Ozias’ bell on Bell Mountain, and woke us early in the morning. And from that moment on, I knew somehow that Ellayne was still alive and safe and that God was watching over her. Didn’t just think it: knew it. And from then on, I just stopped worrying. Not even when the Zephites came and almost took the town did I fret like I used to fret. I’m not even worried now,” she said, and paused. “But I do get lonely when everyone’s away.”
As for Ysbott the Snake, he’d given up on his men, given up on recapturing the baron’s daughter, and everything else except to stay alive and get back to Lintum Forest where he belonged. That should have been easy for him, but it wasn’t.
For one thing, he couldn’t see too well. The little witch had hurt his eyes, and they had not entirely recovered. Herds of dark brown spots romped across his field of vision. Sometimes his eyes itched so badly, it was all he could do not to claw them out of his head. And the wound in his cheek was infected, sore, and beginning to scare him. It should have healed by now, but it was only getting worse. He didn’t know what to do about it.
Deserted by his useless followers, he couldn’t seem to find his way out of the woodlands that ran along the riverbank. Sometimes he heard men call to one another, and realizing they were probably hunting for him, he would take cover for a while. He could never get his bearings after coming out of hiding.
He was hungry, but didn’t dare ask anyone for food. Ordinarily he would just barge into a farmhouse and take what he wanted. He couldn’t do that now: any strong and healthy farmer would be more than a match for him. So he had to keep away from houses. He found some berries and wolfed down a lot of them, but they only made him violently ill.
It was all the girl’s fault, the baron’s daughter. He wanted to tear her to pieces with his bare hands. At the thought of her he gnashed his teeth, hating her as he’d never hated anyone in all his life.
He groped and stumbled and blundered through the underbrush, but the way south constantly eluded him.
CHAPTER 35
How Jod Learned the Truth
Gallgoid had many of the servants in the palace acting as his eyes and ears, but only a few of them knew he even existed. Those few were loyal, sworn to the service of King Ryons. Information was passed up the ladder from one servant to another until it reached Gallgoid. As he often reminded himself, “No matter how big the palace, the servants know everything.”
The crown he’d hidden in an unused wine cellar, in an empty cask. Merffin had his people searching for it frantically, but they would never find it. The whole business would have been richly entertaining, but some hapless peons had been rigorously questioned and abused, and that was not amusing.
Although he’d stolen the crown, he hadn’t stolen Jack and didn’t know who had.
“He just vanished from the room where they were keeping him, while that man from the Temple who was in charge of him was sleeping,” an agent reported to him in the morning. She was the maid who brought the council’s guests their meals. No one ever gave her a second glance. “They’re trying to keep it a secret, but the new First Prester is very much upset.”
“Keep me informed,” Gallgoid said, and sent her away before anyone would miss her.
The man from the Temple, he knew, was Martis. Why G
oryk Gillow had brought Jack to the palace and kept him under lock and key, he didn’t know.
How had Martis managed to make the boy vanish? And why?
“It’s a dangerous game you play, assassin,” he thought. “But you’re no stranger to such games, are you?”
“Jayce,” said Goryk, “I don’t see how you could have let this happen.”
They’d just finished another search of Martis’ room, he and Goryk and Zo. Merffin had his hands full with the missing crown and the need to make a substitute, and hadn’t joined him. He hadn’t yet been told of Jack’s disappearance.
“I’m at a loss, First Prester,” Martis said. “As you’ve seen, there’s no way out of this room except the door, which was locked and guarded all night.”