Conqueror’s Moon (49 page)

Yes, she told herself. If I have it in me to love any man, I will love Conrig Wincantor. Together we’ll conquer and rule this island. And if anyone can help him to aspire beyond the Sovereignty of High Blenholme and equal Bazekoy’s glory, I am that person!

But what was the prince telling the Cathrans now?

She was first disbelieving, then shocked to hear Conrig say—and the other leaders agree—that the opening of the Mallmouth Bridge gate by a certain band of armiger infiltrators was more crucial to the success of their attack than her own role admitting the army to Holt Mallburn itself…

Trembling with anger, as well as with the worsening pain and weakness caused by use of the Great Stone, she aimed Subtle Loophole at the mysteriously important boys and found them riding toward the Coast Highway, guided through thick fog by spunkies. The four youths were under the age of twenty, all of them squires who had been at Castle Vanguard during Conrig’s council of war. They were disguised as Didionite knights and spoke not a word to one another.

Why on earth had the prince entrusted these ordinary lads with such a vital mission? How could they possibly hope to open a fortified bridge guarded by dozens of armed men? Had Conrig made some foolish miscalculation?

Ullanoth forced herself to scry the quartet more closely. A burly older boy with a truculent air, having a fringe of brick-red hair straggling out from beneath his chain mail hood. A stocky, well-muscled youth who was singing bawdy ballads in a fine tenor voice to lighten the tedium of the ride through limbo. A tall clever-looking boy who sometimes sang along with his companion. And the youngest of the party, slender and broad-shouldered, with comely but forgettable facial features—

Forgettable save for his eyes, which the uncanny clarity of Subtle Loophole revealed were a vibrant blue… and afire with the unmistakable gleam of a powerful wild talent.

==========

“What do you mean—the Continentals refuse to rendezvous with us off the Vigilantes?” Honigalus smashed his fist down on the chessboard, sending the pieces scattering in all directions.

Fring the wizard blinked at this unusual display of agitation from the normally phlegmatic prince. He stood with folded arms thrust up the sleeves of his black gown and assumed an irksome expression of long-suffering. “Royal Highness, I don’t presume to analyze wind-messages from our allies. I only report them. May I continue?“

Regaining his self-control, Honigalus sighed. “Proceed.”

“A conference of corsair captains has unanimously agreed to delay joining with our fleet until after we have successfully engaged the Cathrans for the first time. Until then, their fifteen frigates and thirteen corvettes will remain in Nis-Gata, a port some seventy leagues south of the Vigilant Isles. They intend to send out a squadron of fast cutters, forming a windvoice relay, to observe and report upon the battle.”

“Putting me to the test, the slimy bungholers! Making absolutely certain Didion has the upper hand before finally committing themselves.”

“Apparently, Highness.”

“So much for Beynor of Moss and his precious Treaty of Alliance. Damn— if only the pirates of Andradh had agreed to join us! The Harriers are not nearly so lily-livered as their neighbors to the east.” Honigalus turned to Fleet Captain Peel, who had remained seated at the chart table on the opposite side of she chessboard, keeping his expression unreadable. “What do you think of this development, Galbus?”

“The Continentals are a wily lot. It’ll do us no good to attempt to pressure them. All we can do is acquit ourselves valorously against the foe, and pray that the Continentals never learn that Cathra is expecting reinforcements from Tarn.”

twenty-eight

For most of their journey along the Coast Highway, the four armigers met no one. Even the usual wandering packs of curs that infested the approaches to large cities were absent, perhaps having been trapped and eaten by the famished countryfolk. The fog was as thick as ever, smelling of the sea, which was now closely adjacent to the road. Mercifully, the cold drizzle had stopped. As they neared the great river they were aware of occasional walled manor houses on their left, with gate-flanking firebaskets shining dimly through the greyness. Finally, when the sky overhead ahead began to darken, they heard the faint slow tolling of a great bell marking the fifth hour after noontide.

“The city must be very close,” Belamil said.

At that moment the spunkies began to squeak and grow dim. The boys hastily drew aside as a fine coach, escorted by eight armed linkmen trailing sparks from their firebrands, came up from behind them and thundered past.

“I was beginning to wonder if any Didionites were left alive in this infernal fog,” Saundar muttered.

“I’ll wager the coach is hurrying to get through the bridge gate before it closes for the night,” Belamil said. “We should waste no time ourselves.”

“Let’s stop here and get our own torches ready,” Snudge said. He dismounted and extracted the pitch pot from one of his saddlebags. “Take care of it, lads, while I go down to the shore and reconnoiter. Maybe the mist is thinner over the water and I can catch sight of our goal.”

He withdrew, moving cautiously until he heard waves dashing on rocks, then sent his windsight due north across the estuary, like a gull skimming the surface of the sea. No human eye could see much of anything, but his talent scried the shadowy silhouettes of docks and buildings along the immense quay, which curved for nearly three leagues along the opposite shore. Sighting along its frontage, moving toward the river, he perceived at last the outline of the Mallmouth Bridge.

It was enormous, longer than any span he’d ever seen before. Even obscured by mist, the fortified tower seemed the size of a small castle keep. The leaf of the bascule was still down.

But how long would it stay that way?

“Small Lights!” he called. “Are you with me?”

The luminous swarm winked into existence. Some of us are, human. Most of our number have already gathered inside the city to await the great feast promised to us by the lady. The bridge you seek is very near. With torches, you should not require our assistance to find it. Give us leave to join Shanakin and our fellows.

For a feast!

Our reward!

“Go. But remember to harm none of my people!”

We obey Shanakin and the lady, not you. Fight your fight and be damned, human.

Snudge felt his gorge rise, wondering again whether Prince Conrig knew how Ullanoth intended to secure his victory, and whether he cared.

He ran back to the others, vaulted into his saddle, and accepted a torch from Saundar. “Only a league left to go now,” he said. “I could see the bridge lights across the water. Spur your horses to a gallop!”

==========

In the end, it was almost laughably easy to pass through. The small guardpost on the southern shore was manned by hollow-eyed troops whose sergeant studied their forged papers with apathy, then ran a dirty hand along the sleek damp flank of Mero’s horse. The big armiger had taken the leadership role, since he bore the barony’s pennon. He was the only one of the group without a torch.

“Looks like Castle Redfern’s hardly feeling the famine at all, from the looks of your mounts,” the Didionite observed, not bothering to conceal his envy. “Better keep a sharp eye out for gangs of starving desperados once you get inside the city, messires. They’ll cut you down in a trice just to get their teeth into this juicy horseflesh.”

Mero lifted the banner in salute. “Thank you, sergeant. We’ll stay alert. Come along, men!”

They trotted across the bascule and into the fortified tower. Snudge counted at least twenty-five armed warriors inside the well-lit structure, but no one there possessed talent. He noted with his windsight the passages leading to the counterweight vault and the upper storey where the portcullis machinery was. As in most well-designed gatehouses, the roof of the area between the iron grates was perforated with scores of murder-holes. Anyone trapped between the two lowered portcullises risked being arrow-shot or pelted with deadly missiles.

But that didn’t worry Snudge. The real cause for concern was his windsight of the vault, where engineers were obviously preparing to man the pumps and lift the bascule for the night.

When the armigers rode out of the tower they continued on only until they reached the first of the three bridge piers, where Snudge signaled a halt. He could detect no one else crossing in either direction, and they were beyond the view of anyone in the tower.

“I’ve decided we must leave our horses here,” he said, “rather than take them all the way across and hide them inside the town. We’re fast running out of time. The Didionites are preparing to raise the bridge.”

“How do you know that?” Mero demanded.

Snudge didn’t answer the question. Dismounting, he snuffed his torch and ordered the others to do the same and tie their mounts to the bridge railing. Each squire then removed the sack holding tarnblaze from his saddle and refastened the awkward load to his belt.

“We’ll not use our swords during this mission unless it becomes absolutely necessary,” Snudge said. “I have special weapons for us that are more likely to convince the foe that supernatural beings are on the loose.” He handed around thick wool socks half-filled with copper coins, which the other armigers regarded at first with bemused disbelief. “A smart blow on the head from this, swung wide, will render the strongest man senseless, even if he’s struck through a mail hood. Try to hit behind the ear rather than on the top of the skull.”

“But the guards are sure to see us coming at them!” Belamil protested.

“No, they won’t.” Snudge pulled the leather thong holding his bagged sigil from beneath his armor and uncovered the moonstone. It shone pale green in the golden haze emanating from the widely spaced bridge lamps. “Here is a powerful amulet of invisibility that I took from the dead body of the sorcerer I killed at Castle Vanguard. Prince Conrig knows all about it. I have dedicated the amulet to his service. It will shield all of us from the eyes of the enemy.”

“Codders!” murmured Saundar. The others stared goggle-eyed.

“Step close,” Snudge commanded, “one beside me and the other two directly behind. The amulet’s magic hides its wearer and anyone else within four ells of him, if commanded to do so.”

“Show us,” Mero demanded. He took a place as Snudge’s left, while Belamil and Saundar perforce had to fall in behind.

“Best cling to one another’s surcoat tails,” Snudge said. “We’ll be invisible to each other as well as to the foe. Let’s start off moving slowly back along the bridge, then speed up once we get the hang of staying together. While we’re within thick fog, our outline is dimly visible. Once inside the lighted tower, we’ll cast faint shadows. No need to worry overmuch about that, though! With the guards getting ready to lock up, there’ll be other shadows aplenty. Remember: if you move four ells away from me at any time, you’ll become visible again and vulnerable to the enemy. I’ll take us directly to the vault entry, which is near the southern portcullis, on the right side as we approach. If anyone gets in our way, push them gently aside. No violence unless I give the command… Are you ready?”

Three voices muttered “Aye.”

“BI DO FYSINEK. FASH AH.”

Three yawps of astonishment from three invisible mouths.

“Are those the words of the magic spell?” Mero asked softly.

“Yes,” Snudge said. “Now hold tight to each other and let’s go.”

After some initial stumbling and cursing, the boys settled into a steady lope that swiftly brought them back to the tower. No one spoke.

Mero was wild with an excitement that had nothing to do with the upcoming action. An amulet of invisibility! Count Feribor had said nothing about Deveron possessing such a thing. Feribor probably knew nothing about it—nor need he ever know.

Before I kill the young bastard, Mero thought, I’ll force him to show me how to work the amulet. The other two will have to die also, of course, but such things happen during battle.

==========

The boys moved without hindrance down into the pumping area beneath the bridge deck, which was accessed by a flight of stone steps. There, as Snudge had predicted, they found the team of twenty-four workers already manning a line of twelve stout pump handles. Water drawn from the river passed through a great hosepipe made of tarred leather into the huge metal chamber mounted atop the main counterweight, pushing it down into the vault as the chamber filled. As the counterweight sank, the bascule leaf pivoted upward.

The weight was already starting to edge downward.

“Quick!” Snudge whispered. “Stand abreast and strike them down!”

The workers dropped, four at a time. A few uttered cries of surprise and confusion as they saw their mates mysteriously stricken, but most fell without a sound. The last to drop were the two stupefied engineers, who had stood rooted to the spot as the pumper team was dispatched, only to attempt to escape up the steps at the last minute. Unseen armigers tripped the fleeing pair, then clouted them as they lay sprawled on the damp stone floor.

“KRUFAH. BI FYSINEK.”

The four boys reappeared, grinning at each other. But Snudge sobered quickly as he took a better look at the great water tank, which was almost the size of a small cottage. Its top lay about six feet below the level of the pumping platform and was separated from it by a gap of nearly ten feet.

“Damn it! I didn’t think the water-chamber would be completely lidded over with metal, except for the place where the hose goes in. We’ll have to cut the hose with our swords to get the tarnblaze bombshells inside. A pity no one carries a battle-axe.”

Saundar said, “Belamil and I have the heaviest broadswords. We’ll do the job.”

Snudge nodded. “See that catwalk along the wall of the vault? Go along it to the opposite side, climb over the pivot housing, and then down onto the top of the tank. All we need is a hole in the hose large enough to drop the bunched shells through. Be careful! The hose might spew water when you hack through it. Don’t slip and fall into the vault… Leave your sacks of tarnblaze here, and I’ll get the shells prepared.”