"I think playing right here will be fine. Here's my silver."
"And here's my choker. Into the box they go. You've seen this enough tonight to know the routine. This slat goes here, and so forth. There. Are you ready?"
"Yes."
"Very well," the man said, placing the box on the table before Robby. "I turn the glass."
Robby picked up the box and immediately noticed how heavy it was, made of dense, dark wood. He also saw carving upon it, the letters and runes of the ancient script. And, to his surprise, he could make out what they said:
"Star to thumb, finger to moon,
what is within will be yours soon."
"Star to thumb," Robby mumbled, turning the box over until he saw a little crescent moon carved into the other side. Turning it again, he found a little star. Putting his right thumb on the star and his index finger on the moon, he squeezed and pushed and pulled. Nothing happened. The Conundrum Man eyed him warily, seeing that Robby was using the clue written on the box.
"It's a trick," Robby said, flustered and turning red with anger. "The instructions are deceitful."
The Conundrum Man shrugged. Robby glanced at the glass and saw his time would soon be up. Suddenly he remembered something Ashlord said about having a gift for opening things, and he eased up on the box hopefully. He put it down on the table, to the surprise of the Conundrum Man, then simply lifted the lid off of the box, revealing the contents.
"There!" Robby looked triumphantly at the man, who was coldly smiling back.
"I am the poorer by far, young master!" he said, gesturing for Robby to take the contents. "And I beg you not to play my game any more."
"I promise I will not," Robby readily agreed. "Now, if you will excuse me."
Robby turned and walked away from the table, wrapping the gift in a handkerchief as he went. The Conundrum Man picked up his box and examined it carefully. The man within the tent detached himself from the pole, and emerged to look over the shoulder of the Conundrum Box man.
"It must be him," he said.
"This box cannot open this way, yet see?" said the Conundrum Box man, putting the box down and turning to the newcomer. "And he understood the writing."
"Here is your pay," said the stranger, removing a few coins from a purse and handing them over. "You will receive the rest as we agreed when you meet me at my place."
"How did you know? How did you know the one you were looking for would not play for money? And he is so young. Can it possibly be the one we seek?"
"It could be someone else," said the burgundy-cloaked one, picking up the box to examine it for himself. "There may be more than one in these parts who have the gift to open things. Probably are. My bet is that the one who opened this is the one we seek, or else he knows the one we seek. What worries me is that it was too easy. Surely he wouldn't give himself away so lightly."
"Perhaps it is a ploy, to throw us off the scent of the one we are after."
"That is my thinking. He was talking with another one of about his own age for a long time. And he kept looking over this way as they talked."
"You mean the skinny one with red hair? The one they called Billy? He played and lost to the box."
"Which would be a good ruse if he had smoked our intention."
"I see what you mean. He's a sly case, then!"
"Aye."
Suddenly Ibin appeared, grinning at the two men.
"Iwant, I, Iwanttoplayagain," he said.
"We are closed for the evening!" shot back the box-man.
"ButIstill, Istill, butIstillhavesomesilver!"
Then Ullin's strong hand patted Ibin's shoulder.
"Hello, Ibin," Ullin said. "Are you having a good time?"
"OhyessirIam,sir!"
"Good, good. Can you tell me where Billy might be?"
"Doyouwant, doyouwanthimtoring, ringthebigbellagain?"
"Oh, no, I think once is enough for him," Ullin laughed. "I only wanted to see if he knew when his father might be coming back."
"OhIdon'tknow. Butbut, butIthinkBillyisover, overattheringtoss. Attheringtosswithsomegirls."
"Very well, I'll try to find him."
"I'llshowyouwhere!"
Ibin hurried off with Ullin, and the two men at the kiosk looked at each other.
"Did you hear that? Did I not say he was clever?"
"Yes. Yes. There must be many in on it."
"I would say so. Since you are closed for the night, may I borrow your strongman?"
"Certainly, but I don't want to be involved in any mysteries."
"You'll never know a thing. I just need some help with a heavy object, and since Trander is as mute as a horse, he'll not let on to anyone. You know where to find me."
"Trander! Go with Bailorg, and do as he says!"
The big man nodded and turned to the burgundy-cloaked man. Together, they left along the darkness at the edge of the grounds and made their way to the ringtoss.
• • •
Robby saw Sheila and his parents exit the tent, and he walked up just as Sheila was looking around for him.
"Oh, there you are."
"How was the show?"
"It was wonderful! You should have seen how they balanced one atop another and made every kind of shape possible with their bodies."
"I saw them last year," Robby said, taking her hand and leading her away from his nodding mother. "And if they are anything the same now as then, they are indeed wonderful. Shall we listen to some music? Perhaps I'll ask you for a dance."
"Oh," Sheila stopped and pulled the advancing Robby back with a look of terror on her face. "I cannot dance!"
"Don't worry!" Robby laughed. "I can't either. Not really. At any rate, you're bound to have more coordination than I do. If I remember correctly, you kicked a pretty jig on Passdale Green one night."
Sheila's face reddened, and she allowed herself to be towed along to the far end of the fair grounds where a stage of sorts had been set up for the minstrels.
"I've heard these musicians before," Robby told her as they passed the ringtoss where Billy, who was showing off before a pretty girl, took the time to nod and wink at Robby as they passed by. "And I think you'll like them."
They reached the music area just as the group was beginning a lively jig meant to set toes tapping and hands clapping in rhythm. There were benches set about in a semicircle and colored lanterns hanging over a small area in front of the musicians, and several couples were already dancing. Sheila motioned to an empty bench, and they sat down, hand still in hand, to watch and listen. The elder man playing the fiddle recognized Robby and nodded at him with a slight bow. Robby stood up and bowed an acknowledgement as Sheila looked on with some interest.
"Where did you meet them before?" she asked, leaning closer so as not to shout over the music.
"On the shores of Lake Halgaeth," he replied into her ear. Her hair was of the scent of wisteria. "When I saw Queen Serith Ellyn away."
"You never told me about it. I only heard about it from your mother."
"I know. We haven't had much chance to talk about all that's happened. I met her. It was all very pleasant and yet very sad, too."
"Was it not there that you gained your new belt-rope?" she asked, touching Swyncraff.
"Yes. If that is what it is. It was given to me by Lord Thurdun himself."
"Why?"
"I'm not sure," Robby shrugged. "I believe they think more of me than I deserve."
Their conversation was interrupted by intense clapping and hurrahs as the song ended and the exhausted dancers retreated. Before they reached their seats, however, another lively tune sprang from the musicians, one sung by one of the daughters in the Common Speech about a maiden and her love of a faraway seafaring man. Robby and Sheila felt a special enchantment in the music, as the words painted a picture in their minds of the distant sea and windswept shores, as it spun a tapestry of love and longing.
"So what would it take to convince you to dance with me?" Robby
asked as the song wound down.
"Oh, I don't know!"
"Are you dead set against trying?"
Sheila looked around and nodded, saying, "Pretty much."
"Would you be open to bribery?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well, for instance, I noticed that you have such a pretty neck, and it is a shame for such a beautiful neck to be unadorned, even though nothing could make it prettier."
Robby unwrapped the choker and put it into Sheila's hand. She sat staring at it, amazed. She looked up at Robby, smiling, her eyes full and glistening with joy.
"It's beautiful!"
"It is for you, with or without a dance," he said, delighted that she obviously liked it.
"Oh, Robby!"
"Shall I help you on with it?"
"Yes, please!"
He took it from her, and she held her hair out of the way so that he could put it around her neck.
"There! I hope it is not too tight?"
"Oh no! It seems lighter than it should be, and it isn't cold, either."
Suddenly she leaned over and gave him a kiss on the lips such as he had not had since they had last kissed those many, many months ago. When she withdrew, he put his hand behind her head and drew her back to him so that, mindless of the others around, he could repay the kiss with the like. The music ended, and there was more applause, and, after the long kiss, Sheila kept her face close to Robby's with a soft look in her shining eyes. A slower tune began, a mellow waltz with a lonesome air, with the fiddle crying softly to the cooing of pipes while the guitars picked an accompanying echo.
"Will you dance with me?" Robby asked again.
"I will try."
And so she did, and did well. Robby held her closer, perhaps, than was customary. But the curve of her waist beneath his hand and the warmth of her hand in his other, the touch of her hand on his shoulder—all this made him as happy as he could ever remember being. He did not care for tomorrow, or for yesterday, and his worries whirled away from him as they spun gracefully around the grass. He reveled in the moment with such feelings of heart that no past problems or new troubles could diminish. Sheila, for her part, felt as if she could be with none other, yet her heart was torn. She desired Robby with her entire body and her whole heart, yet she still felt an impossibility as large as a mountain between her and her desire. The more her desire grew, the more she trembled with conflict. And, as if all her premonitions and all her fears of fallibility and all her sense of caution were summoned into a symbolic form, suddenly that form appeared next to them in the person of Ibin. He had such a look of terror on his face that Robby and Sheila stopped dead and stared at him. Ibin moved his mouth but no words came out. His eyes were wide with despair, and he gestured madly toward some indiscernible direction.
"What is it?" Sheila gasped.
"Ibin, calm down," Robby said, letting go of Sheila and grabbing Ibin by the biceps. "Tell me what is wrong!"
"THEYTOOKBILLY!THEYGOTBILLY!" came his words in a pitiful helpless whine.
"Who? Where?" Robby and Ibin immediately set off, with Sheila trailing close after. They sped up as they went, as Robby tried to get more out of Ibin. "Who? Who took Billy?"
"Thestrongman, thestrongmanandsomeoneelse," Ibin answered. "IsawthemaskBillytohelpthem! Iwantedtohelp,too,butwhenIgotthere, whenIgotthereBillywasfightingthem. Heholleredformetogetyou!"
Robby burst ahead and through the crowd at the ringtoss and on into the shadows.
"There!" Ibin pointed to two men dragging a kicking Billy through the darkness along the outside edge of the line of tents that bordered the fairgrounds. They were making for two horses, and the biggest of the two men was forcing a large burlap bag over Billy. The other man saw Robby and Ibin flying at them as Billy was slung over a horse and tied down.
"Stop them!" he ordered the strongman, who turned to face the oncoming Robby, while he mounted his horse and grabbed the reins of the one bearing Billy.
"Halt!" Robby cried out. So intent he was on Billy's predicament that he did not see the hulk coming at him until a fist hit him in the chest and knocked him sideways against a tent. Ibin barreled right into the huge man, but the strongman deftly tossed him aside. Robby got up, drawing his sword, only to have it immediately knocked out of his hand by the Conundrum Box man who emerged from the tents with a cudgel in one hand and a sword swinging at Robby's head. Robby ducked, pulling Swyncraff from his waist.
"Go get Ullin!" he yelled at Sheila as he straightened Swyncraff and parried the slashing sword. But Robby's opponent countered with his cudgel and struck Robby in the ribs.
"You mind your own business!" the man yelled.
"Out of my way!" Robby furiously swung Swyncraff and shattered the man's sword. Howling in pain, the man backed away, dropping his cudgel and gripping his arm. Robby turned to the strongman who was now being successfully tackled and knocked down by the truly enraged and determined Ibin.
"GoafterBilly! GoafterBilly!" Ibin shouted. Already the two horses were out of the fairgrounds, working up to a gallop onto the road beyond. Robby set off running, leaving his sword where it lay, slinging Swyncraff around his shoulder and letting it tie itself. As Robby reached the far end of the grounds, he saw the hitching area and stopped, panting. He caught his breath just enough to call out, "Anerath!"
Anerath immediately answered from the other side of the hitching area, broke free and bolted through the other horses. Robby sprang into the saddle and off they flew. He did not see Ullin and Sheila running after him, stopping when they realized Robby would not wait for them. The bell of Passdale began ringing frantically in the distance.
"What's that about?" cried Ullin, torn between the direction that Robby went and the opposite direction, toward Passdale. No sooner than he uttered those words than he saw another horseman, tearing up the Passdale road at a desperate gallop. Ullin halted the rider, who was wearing Boskland colors, dirty and soiled from a hard ride.
"I gotta find the Mayor!" the rider cried, dismayed at Ullin for stopping him.
"What is happening?" demanded Ullin.
"See thar!" the man pointed at a red glow on the southeast horizon. "Boskland burns! An army crossed from the Boggy Wood. They took Tulith Attis, set Bosk Manor afire, an' now make their way to Passdale. They could cross the Bentwide afore dawn."
"What army? From where?"
"I dunno! They came out of the Boggy Wood, an' they wear red an' white."
"Redvests! How many?"
"Two, mebbe three thousand? Or more! An' more than two hunnerd horsemen."
"What about Collandoth? Have you seen the one called Ashlord?" Ullin held the reins against the man's desire to ride into the fair.
"Aye, he raised the warnin' to Boskland an' was fightin' alongside me kinsmen. But thar whar too many! We barely got our people away to'ard Passdale. I dunno know what became of him, or of the rest of me people. I outrode 'em. I gotta find the Mayor! Then I gotta get back to Boskland!"
He jerked the horse toward the fairground entrance and rode away. Ullin looked toward the glow in the southeast, then back up the road where Robby had ridden. He turned to Sheila.
"There will be panic at first," he told her, "but we must gather the people and gain our armoury before the invaders reach the bridge. Find Robby's father. Tell him to meet me at the Common House with all the men he can muster. Tell him we are invaded. Then come along quick, spreading word as you come! We will need your bow! We must leave Billy to Robby for now."
"What about the others? The women and children?" Sheila asked as Ullin hurried to the horses and jumped onto the nearest one. Reining around, he started off for Passdale.
"They must flee toward Janhaven! With only what they can carry! We cannot hope to hold the invaders at Passdale for long! Do as I said! Go!"
Chapter 20
Pursuit, Rescue, and Capture
Billy Bosk groaned and tried to squirm loose from the ropes that bound him, belly down, across the saddle. He felt his ribs cra
cking and every shift in the horse's gallop knocked the breath out of him. His head was covered with a sack tied around his neck, and all these things made breathing a great chore.
"Let me go!" he managed to half-yell, half-whimper. The horse he was strapped to was being led along, he realized, probably by the same rogue who oversaw his kidnapping from the festival. He could feel the changes of terrain as they turned, crossed through streams, and moved up or downhill. These course changes gave Billy a little respite, as each one required slowing. But each time that he felt as if he could breathe easier, the horses would speed up again, jolting the air out of him all over again. On top of those difficulties, he was perpetually in fear of sliding off headways under the horse's legs, or falling off halfway, only to be dragged. After a short while, he was in too much misery to care one way or the other, in spite of his fears, as he fell into a kind of swoon of pain and despair within the blackness of the stifling sack.
He hardly noticed when all became still. The sound of crickets that replaced the pounding hooves was slow to filter through to his mind. A hand suddenly grasped the sack on his head and jerked, bending Billy's head backwards painfully.
"Listen to me," a stern voice growled close to his ear. "I will sit you upright into the saddle, now. Do you hear me?"
Billy nodded, and groaned, "Lemme go, ye bastard!"
A hard fist pounded his jaw.
"Shut up! Or I will cut your throat just as easily as I cut these bindings," the voice said. "So do as I say!"
Billy felt a tug on the ropes, and he slid onto his legs. His knees buckled immediately, and he tumbled hard onto the ground. His hands were still tied in front of him, and he felt the tether tied to his wrists pull him up violently.
"Stand up! Climb into the saddle."
After a series of clumsy pushes and shoves, and rather rough handling all around, he was placed into the saddle and his hands were quickly tied to the front saddle ring. He slumped over against the horse's neck as his feet were bound into the stirrups and to each other by a tight tether across the horse's cinches. Before he gained much in the way of rest, they were off again, riding over much rougher ground. Billy sensed from the limbs and brush that struck him, and from how the sound of the hooves were often muffled by leaves and pine straw that they were moving through a dense wood. He tried kicking his mount, to stir some reaction that might help him escape, but his feet were bound too tight for any such movement. Nor could he reach for the reins, so firmly were his hands tied to the saddle-ring. After a while, he could think of nothing else to do, so he tried to strike up a conversation with his abductor.
The Bellringer Page 50