by Hilari Bell
The knight stepped forward, lifting his hand, and then hesitated. No doubt he thought it dishonorable to strike both a woman and someone who couldn’t hit back. Fool of a lordling, don’t balk at it now! “You spineless muckworm, you couldn’t—”
He slapped her face twice, just hard enough to make it look real. It wouldn’t have stopped her, had there been anything she really wanted to say, but she was certain the goblins had been given enough time. She also feared he was nearing the limit of his acting ability. When the guards released her, she subsided meekly against the log, protecting her face with her arms. Behind their shelter, she could see him glaring at the guards.
“What are you doing here?” he snapped. “This is a private conversation. Get back to the perimeter and keep watch. And I want to see you looking out, like guards, not peeking at me like gossiping grandmothers! Go!”
There was a pause while she continued to huddle, hiding her grin, and the guards withdrew. “They’re watching,” he murmured. “But they’re out of earshot if we keep it down. Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. Unlike some, who seem to have gone mad! Lazur’s not a fool. You’ll never pull this off.”
“Aye,” said Cogswhallop’s voice behind her. “But it’s a lovely plan, gen’ral. Bring your wrist back where I can reach it and stop squirming!”
The knight scowled down at her. “Stop looking like that. Grovel or look angry or something. You look too happy.”
“And you look far too nervous.”
She felt Cogswhallop’s hands pluck at the chains and heard him murmur, “Now, don’t jangle, sweet ones.”
“What are you doing, lordling? First you get me taken and now you’re setting me free? Make sense!”
“It doesn’t make sense to me anymore,” he admitted. “When I planted the stone, I didn’t know, didn’t realize…. When I understood about the goblins, I got it back, but then I got sick, and then it was too late. So now”—he took a deep breath—“I’m doing what I can to set it right.”
Gazing at him as he spoke, she noticed that most of the buttons on his fine, clean shirt were gone. That, more than anything, made the truth plain to her. “So now you’re betraying your own folk for the sake of mine. Poor honorable knight.”
“Stop looking at me like that! I don’t know about honor anymore. I just know I have to do this.” But he looked confused and miserable. She thought of Goodwife Garron’s kindness and understood exactly how he felt. How long had it been since she sympathized with a human…with another human?
“No use,” Cogswhallop grunted softly. “Can’t pick it. I’ve got the twists in, but I’m not strong enough to break the chain. It’s up to you, soldier.”
The knight straightened abruptly and glared at the guards again—several of them guiltily turned their eyes away. He threw back his cloak with a sweeping gesture. “How long will it take the Sleepers to affect them?” he asked nervously.
“You’ve got Sleepers out there?”
“Depends on the man,” Cogswhallop answered. “How tired he is, how much natural resistance he has to that kind of spell, how much he wants to stay awake.”
“What if some of them have spell-resistance charms?” Makenna hissed, feeling ignored. She’d always been in charge of rescues before. To be on the receiving end was unnerving.
“They don’t,” the knight told her. “That’s one of the reasons we didn’t do this sooner. We had to arrange for six unprotected men to be on guard at the same time.”
His eyes widened and Makenna, looking where he looked, saw one of the guards sit down and lean against a tree, yawning.
“How in this world did you manage that?”
“Jeriah’s in charge of setting up the guard.” Was that pain in his eyes? “I just made a few suggestions. He’s my brother.”
Another guard lay down.
“Your brother! But—”
“I know. He takes after my mother.”
“I wasn’t going to say that.” She smiled, amused by the small flash of vanity. “Won’t he be in trouble?”
Definitely pain. “I don’t know.”
Several more guards had gone down, and the last swayed on his feet. Even as they watched, he lay down on the ground.
“Now, soldier. And keep it quiet. If you clank things about and wake one of them, it’s all over.”
“Right.” He dropped to his knees beside her.
Cogswhallop popped out from below the log. He was covered with mud. “You’ll have to get under it. The weakest link is where they attached the chain to the bolt, and they rolled the log so it’s on the bottom.”
The knight wiggled beneath the log.
“What happens if someone looks this way and sees no guards, and him crawling around the chains?” she asked her lieutenant.
“Then we’re cooked. That’s why we wanted to do it late.”
There was a loud clank and they both winced, but the sleeping guards didn’t stir. The knight swore.
“Here’s your hiding charm, gen’ral. The soldier took a bit of a risk and stole it back.” He fastened it around her neck. “We’ve all got one. Once we’re away they’ll not find us.”
“Why do you keep calling him soldier?”
“He thinks like one,” Cogswhallop told her. “When he’s put to it. And he doesn’t make excuses, even when—”
A snap sounded and the knight slithered out. “Wrap the chains around you, and try to keep them quiet,” he advised. Cogswhallop reached under the log and pulled out a drab servant’s cloak, and the knight dropped it over Makenna’s shoulders and arranged the hood to hide her face. “It’ll do.”
Makenna staggered stiffly to her feet, grateful for the helping hand that caught her elbow. “You’d best use your cloak as well,” she said.
He looked down at his filthy armor, as he pulled his cloak around him. “You said I should get some mud on my armor. Are you satisfied now?”
“It’s a start,” she told him as they crept toward the line of sleeping guards.
The inevitable soft clanking kept her heart racing as they passed the guards, but none of them stirred. Once they were out of the torchlit ring, she breathed easier. “What next? Anyone looking this way will see I’m gone, and the alarm goes up.”
“That’s why we’re getting out of here fast.” The knight picked up his pace, striding rapidly through the darkness. “And that means horses.” They were already saddled and waiting. He helped her mount and set Cogswhallop up behind her, tucking the goblin beneath her cloak. “You’re just a servant, so keep quiet,” he told her as they rode toward the camp’s perimeter.
Makenna, who knew more about this kind of escapade than he ever would, nodded meekly, amusement warring with indignation. Both emotions died at the guard’s challenge. “Halt. Who passes?”
There were two of them—they looked bored and sleepy.
“Sir Tobin,” the knight replied. “Leaving for the city.”
“In the middle of the night?” said the guard incredulously.
“Master Lazur’s been interrogating the sorceress and he discovered something the Hierarch must learn immediately. Or so he says. I think it could have waited till morning.” He smiled. He did niceness much better than arrogance, she noted.
“Aye, well.” There was cheerful sympathy in the guard’s face. “We’re all under orders. You’re—”
“She’s escaped!” The cry was distant, but perfectly clear. “Call out the guard! Close the perimeter!”
“By the saints!” The guards reached for their swords, but they looked at the darkness around them, not at the knight or her. “Sorry, Sir Tobin, but—”
He got no further, for the knight’s fist lashed out, knocking him down. The second guard spun, opening his mouth to shout, but Makenna kicked him in the face, and then kicked her horse till it galloped wildly down the road.
She concentrated on staying in the saddle, for she wasn’t a skilled rider. When the knight spun his mount and abruptly left the
track, her horse followed his and she almost fell. Only Cogswhallop’s firm grip kept her aboard.
They rode in near silence for some time. She’d asked Cogswhallop about the number of casualties and the answer, though not as bad as she’d feared, left her with no desire to chat.
It was morning when they finally rode into a clearing filled with goblins, and the knight pulled his horse to a stop. They pressed around her, cheering, laughing, touching her, and it was several minutes before she was free to look about.
The shelters of brush and woven grass were all but invisible, unless you knew what to look for. But Makenna knew, and the sight of the desperate, shabby little camp, the bandages, the few treasures they’d managed to save, filled her with helpless fury. She had seen into the future, and it was full of sights like this one. “What can I do?” she whispered. “Ah, Bright Ones, what am I to do?”
“I—we’ve got an idea about that.” The knight looked dirty and weary, much more like himself.
“What do you mean?”
He didn’t answer immediately but led her to a hollow at the far side of the clearing. She flinched when she saw the blood-stained bandages around Erebus’ head, but he beamed at her with all his usual cheeriness, and the tightness in her gut eased.
“We’ve been talking a lot, the past day or two,” the knight told her.
“And mad meetings they were, with him having to run off to deal with those priests every five minutes,” Cogswhallop grumbled. A Maker brought him a hacksaw and some rags, and he tucked them between her wrist and the shackle and started to cut.
“Anyway, Jeriah said that you’ve been told about the barbarians…” the knight went on. “So you know humankind is going to settle beyond the wall.” There was a long pause, broken only by the saw’s rasp.
“We can’t stop it, mistress. Not forever,” Erebus told her gently.
“Aye.” Bitter, bitter to admit it. “But what else is there? You’ve said the barbarians killed off all the goblins in their lands. If we can’t dwell there, and we can’t dwell here…We can’t survive in the frozen wasteland of the far north, either. What’s left for us but to go down fighting?”
“Well.” The knight looked oddly embarrassed. “There is—at least I’m told there is—the Otherworld.”
“The Otherworld? That’s madness!”
“But people have gone there. St. Agna. Some priests…and others. It is an actual place.”
“Aye, they go there, but they never come back! No one knows what becomes of them. Even if we could go, it’s likely suicide!”
“It’s suicide to stay here,” Cogswhallop put in calmly. The shackle fell from her wrist with a clank. “It’s just a long, slow suicide, instead of a short, fast one.”
“You’re not in favor of this!” She had always relied on Cogswhallop’s pragmatism. If he approved of a plan this mad…
He shrugged. “I don’t know, gen’ral. I haven’t got a better idea. He”—he nodded at Erebus—“loves the idea. ‘A whole new world to discover!’”
Erebus flushed. “It’s easy to pull another’s plans apart, but you haven’t got—”
“I don’t think you have any choice.” The knight interrupted quietly. “Not in the long run. And the sooner you go, the more lives you’ll save.”
“Oh, that’s fine. There’s just one flaw in this wonderful plan. We can’t get into the Otherworld without the help of a lot of powerful priests, and somehow I don’t think we’re going to get it.”
“But you can cast magic,” said the knight.
“Don’t you listen to anything I say? I’m naught but a common hedgewitch. I can cure the harvest sneezing or chase off mice. What you ask is as far beyond my power as the moon is beyond the treetops!”
“But Erebus says you can use the power of the wall to strengthen your spells.” They all looked at her expectantly. “He says you’ve done it often.”
“Aye, for a look-away spell. Something I know back to front. I haven’t the faintest idea how to open a portal to the Otherworld. It didn’t happen to get into my mother’s books. And they’re gone anyway.” She felt a stab of loss at the memory.
“We thought about that,” said the knight. “The spell is in Master Lazur’s books. He told me so himself.”
“And my great-great-grandfather’s aunt recorded that two hundred and seventeen priests put their magic into the wall,” Erebus added helpfully. “Surely that’s power enough?”
“Oh, that’s enough power to level the wood! And I’m flattered you think I could control it. But how, pray, are you planning to get Master Lazur’s books? Stroll in and ask him nicely?” She faced the knight. “They’ll know you helped me escape. You’re not a hero anymore.”
“I know.” Pain again, in his eyes, but it didn’t reach his voice. “I think we could steal them. For us to go back is the last thing they’re expecting. It’s probably the safest place we could be.”
She smiled in spite of herself, but then sobered. “To open a portal is beyond my skill. Even my mother couldn’t have done it. I’m sorry, but I can’t.”
Something stirred in his face. “I didn’t take you for a quitter.”
Anger flared. “I’d fight to the death for these people!”
“Yes, but you’re not afraid to die. It’s easy to do something you aren’t afraid of. I’m going to get those books, and when I do, see if you can face your people if you don’t try to use them. I’m betting you can’t.” He rose to his feet. “I’m going now.” And he walked away.
She stayed where she was. If she gave him no help, he’d have to turn back. He couldn’t do it alone. He knew he couldn’t do it alone. He mounted and rode away. The silence lengthened.
“He’ll come back,” said Makenna.
Cogswhallop snorted. “I warned you this day would come. But no, you had to go and build obstacles.”
“He has to come back,” Makenna said. “He can’t do it alone.”
“No one can do it alone,” said Cogswhallop. “Maybe it’s time you learned that, girl.”
“He’ll come…ah, dung!” She had never been able to lie to Cogswhallop. “He isn’t coming back,” she said.
Then she began to plan.
CHAPTER 18
The Knight
Tobin’s palms were sweating despite the cool mist drifting around him. It was one thing to risk your life when you believed you were serving the Bright Gods and your people, pleasing your father, and if you died it would bring you honor. It was another to take that risk when you knew that dying would get you nothing but dead and disgraced.
He wiped his hands on his thighs and gazed through the branches at the settlement’s dinnertime business, waiting for Jeriah to come out. Jeriah always checked to be sure his charger was settled for the night—almost always. With a pang of loss, Tobin hoped the person who had bought Fiddle would recognize his worth and treat him well.
There were only a handful of soldiers left in the camp; the rest were out hunting for the escaped sorceress. And for Tobin, probably. That was what he’d been hoping for. What he hadn’t expected was that the peasant boys would take their places as perimeter guards. They looked more alert than the soldiers. Tobin sighed, and a small hand patted his arm comfortingly.
He looked down at Regg and smiled, despite the surge of guilt. Guilt, because if something happened to the child because of his need for a Charmer he’d never forgive himself, and because of what he planned to do. He fought the emotion. After his all-too-public escape last night, he couldn’t accomplish this without a Charmer, and the children were the only ones who’d followed him from the camp.
Tobin had seen for himself that Makenna feared working difficult magic. He’d been certain that if he just kept walking she’d give up her stubborn refusal to face her fears, but she’d outstubborned him. He sighed again. Then Regg’s comforting hand tightened on his arm. Following the boy’s gaze, Tobin saw Jeriah toss a laughing comment to the perimeter guard and leave the camp, going toward th
e horse pasture.
“Into the bag,” he hissed at Regg, pulling up the flap of the pouch attached to his belt. “Start the spell as soon as he gets near enough, and if anything goes wrong, kick me in the ribs and then save yourself. Understand?”
Already half in, the little goblin nodded briskly and burrowed into the bag. Tobin saw the flap stir and knew that Regg was watching Jeriah’s careless approach. He walked slowly, shoulders hunched, a troubled expression on his face. Oh, Jeri, I’m sorry! As he neared the grove where Tobin was concealed, Jeriah hesitated a moment and shook his head, as if to shake away an odd thought. When he walked on, his scowl had relaxed. Regg’s spell at work? There was only one way to test it. “Jeri,” Tobin whispered. “Don’t shout! Over here. I have to talk to you.”
Jeriah jumped and looked around. “Tobin? Where are you?”
“Here.” He signaled, and his brother came to him. Would he have done so, even without Regg’s enchantments? He’d never know, and his throat ached with the grief of it. He’d have gambled his own life on his brother’s love—he had no right to risk the goblins’ lives on it. He hoped desperately that someday he’d have a chance to explain, that Jeriah would understand. But for now he’d rely on Regg’s insistence that Jeriah trust his brother, regard all his suggestions as reasonable, and do what he said.
“Tobin, what have you done?” Jeriah’s voice was anguished. “You had it all fixed, and then—Why?”
“I have reasons, Jeri, good ones. I’ll explain it to you when…if I can, but I don’t have time now.”
Jeriah looked puzzled. “But you can’t ever come back. You’re wanted.”
“Yes, I know.” It was the sight of the spell working on his brother, not the knowledge that he’d gone from hero to outlaw, that tightened his throat.
“Jeri, I need to get into Master Lazur’s tent and borrow his spell books.” Jeriah shook his head sharply, and Tobin spoke quickly, soothingly. “You know I was working for him? Well, in a way I still am. I’m trying to get rid of the goblins and the sorceress, but I have to borrow his books to do it. You don’t think he’d mind lending them to me, if it would accomplish his goal, do you?”