Ironcrown Moon (54 page)

I use Gateway to carry her and the child back to His Grace at Gala Palace!”

You must do as you think best for her and her child, for Conrig, and for the Final Conflict in which all of you participate

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May, Julian - Boreal Moon 2 - Ironcrown Moon

“What think best?… Damn you, Source, I’m only a poor devil of a spy! How can I make such fateful decisions by myself? What if I

I

make a stupid mistake and get nabbed by the guards at the Tarnian keep? What if the princess won’t agree to my compromise—or His

Grace declines it? What if Ansel Pikan finds out what I’m up to and uses his sorcery to—to stop me?”

Ansel won’t stop you. I’ve already seen to that. As to the other matters, I can’t say. Now go and do what you must do, “You’re not being fair, Source! You’ve got to give me more explicit instructions. I’ll abandon the whole thing if you don’t! Source?

Answer me! Source…”

He howled the Light’s name on the wind, furious and frightened, but there was no response.

Finally, he severed the thread of speech, waited until he stopped shivering in the tepid evening air, and asked himself whether he’d really give up the mission now that it seemed so close to being accomplished.

He answered his own question, then sat in numb misery on the parapet floor, wondering whether to bespeak Stergos and ask him for advice.

“Putter that!” he growled, on due consideration. “I’ll do it my way, just as the Source told me to.”

Feeling dead tired, but at the same time strangely exhilarated, he climbed to his feet and
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descended to the ward to see what progress his men had made on the trip preparations.

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They showed Snudge the body of Vra-Mattis Temebrook, which lay as if peacefully sleeping. No one had touched him except Radd

Falcontop, who had pronounced him dead. Not a one among the party seemed to have any doubt that the sensitive novice had died of a brainstorm, brought about by his visualization of the unspeakable atrocities committed by the Salka.

“This is still another crime to be laid at the monsters’ door,” Sir Gavlok said, knuckling away unashamed tears. “Poor Mat is their victim as much as the luckless Didionites. I only pray that someday we may be able to avenge him.”

The three squires murmured agreement. Radd and Hulo were silent, their weathered features immobile.

“What will you have us do now, Deveron?” Gavlok asked.

“Without our windvoice, sir, do we dare proceed?” Wil asked ingenuously.

“Oh, yes, we’ll go on as planned. That is—all except you, young Wil.”

Snudge showed the dismayed squire a sad smile. “It falls to you, as my junior armiger, to convey the body of our fallen comrade back to

Gala Palace. Go at once and find the headman of the mule-train that’s spending the night here.

Arrange to accompany it over Great Pass in safety tomorrow. Proceed directly to Beorbrook Hold with the body, where the resident Brothers of Zeth will perform the necessary mortuary offices for poor Mattis and provide a lead-lined coffin for your journey south. The captain of the Hold garrison will assign you an escort.”

Wil Baysdale hung his head, cursing inwardly. “Yes, messire.” Surely Sir Deveron could not suspect what he’d done! But Wil nevertheless was well aware that he’d do no more spying for Duke Feribor on this mission.

He consoled himself with the thought that there would surely be others.

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Rain began during the small hours, and continued persistently as the king’s men quit Castlemont and started north on the Wold Road at the sixth hour of morning. The pack-train had departed earlier, but not before Snudge had a quiet word with the grizzled leader of the muleteers. After learning the man’s name and his home village, Snudge took his hand and pressed a gold mark into it.

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May, Julian - Boreal Moon 2 - Ironcrown Moon

“Swive me!” the fellow muttered, at the sight of the extravagant boon. “Not that I ain’t grateful, my lord, but—”

“I thank you for allowing my squire and his somber burden to go along with you into Cathra,”

Snudge said. “However, my young friend is a headstrong boy, and was keenly disappointed not to continue on with us. There’s a chance he may approach you and request that you convey the corpse to Beorbrook, while he himself turns back and foolishly attempts to rejoin our group. I ask that you prevent him from doing so—by force, if nothing else suffices. I won’t suffer disobedience or a frivolous disregard for the dead.”

The muleteer’s shaggy brows knit as he digested the import of Snudge’s words. “How much force?” he asked quietly.

“Don’t damage him any more than necessary. But see that he stays with you for at least half the day. After that, he’ll know it’s too late to follow us.”

Now, as he and Gavlok rode out side by side, bringing up the rear of their small cavalcade, Snudge told his friend what he’d done. The other knight nodded in approval and said, “I lay
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awake all last night in the little guesthouse cubicle we shared, with my sword unsheathed at my side, just in case Wil Bays-dale decided to pay us a visit.”

“You think he might actually have done us violence?” Snudge said.

“Not only that. I believe he murdered Vra-Mattis.”

“Good God! Have you any evidence to support your accusation?”

“Just before I retired—you were already asleep—I went to Mat’s cubicle to collect his writing materials from his scrip, thinking we might have need of them. I glanced at his face and saw that one of his eyes had come open, as sometimes happens. In the end, I had to put a farthing on the lid to keep it decently shut. But before that… I’ve had little experience with dead bodies, but my grandsire was a great storyteller who oft entertained us children with tales of murder and mayhem. One curious fact he told us is that the whites of a smothered man’s eyes will sometimes show small specks of blood. Mat’s open eye did indeed have such a sign.”

“Codders! Then the whoreson slew him!” Snudge frowned fiercely in thought. “Wil must have listened in on our talk of the sigils. As

Duke Feribor’s creature, he would have thought it imperative to send a message to his master about the magical moonstones. He’d use

Mat’s windvoice, as he must have already done on other occasions. I don’t believe Mat realized who the earlier messages were intended for. They could have contained nothing important, anyway. But this final one, with its news of me having the ability to use high sorcery, might have troubled him when he recovered his wits. Mat might have confessed to me what he’d done, and Wil Baysdale couldn’t allow that to happen. Now Feribor knows we have the means to go invisible, as well as a quick way of reaching Maudrayne.”

“We’ll surely get to the princess before he does,” Gavlok said. “How long has he been at sea?

Three days? I’ve lost count.”

“Perhaps a little less than that. But with fair winds, a fast frigate could easily get him to Northkeep and the shaman Bozuk late tomorrow.

Feribor is under orders not to search for Maudrayne, but I’m certain he’ll disregard them. The temptation would be irresistible. He might offer the shaman an additional bribe to serve as his guide to her hiding place. The old magicker is blind, but there’s nothing wrong with his scrying ability. He could do the job.”

“But you said we’ll shortly be on her doorstep! I realize we can’t do anything until you’re fit again, but surely you’ll have recovered long before Feribor can get to her.” He broke off, staring at his friend with sudden concern. “Won’t you? I mean, you said you’d just be unwell for a few days.”

“The fact is,” Snudge said, “I don’t know how long I’ll be afflicted. Perhaps, since this will be my first use of the Great Stone, the consequences won’t be too severe.”

But even as he spoke, he didn’t believe it.

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After a brisk two-hour ride, during which they encountered no other travelers, the king’s men came to a section of the Wold Road that

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May, Julian - Boreal Moon 2 - Ironcrown Moon traversed a stretch of open ground. Beyond it on their left rose thickly wooded low mountains and a rough little track that led towards the Lady Lakes. It was possible to see for nearly a league in all directions, and the soggy landscape was empty of other human beings.

“This place will do as well as any for our embarcation,” Snudge said, reining in. “Valdos, Hanan—gallop your horses up and down that side track a ways, then churn up the mud around here. We want to make it look as though we were set upon by a gang of kidnappers.

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Word of our supposed abduction will reach Rockyford soon enough.”

And from there, the news would fly on the wind to Gala. Snudge had debated with himself whether to tell Lord Stergos the details of his plan. But in the end he’d held off, fearing that the Royal Alchymist would consider himself duty-bound to inform the High King about Concealer and Subtle Gateway. Every instinct warned him not to risk letting this happen. Let Conrig think what he would of their abrupt disappearance. With luck, Stergos would counsel his brother to have patience.

Snudge dismounted and began to unstrap his pack. Gavlok, Radd, and Hulo followed suit. The two Mountain Swordsmen tied big bundles to each other’s backs. They carried most of their food. The pair had also acquired a pair of stout staves back at the fortress, and extra arrows for their shortbows.

“I wish we could take the horses with us.” Gavlok looked at his fine tall chestnut with regret. The mounts would be abandoned here, with all of their tack.

“They’ll do us no good where we’re going.” Snudge was curt. “We can only hope that local villains will come across them soon and take them off into the wilderness.”

Finally the excited squires finished their trampling and the mounts were shooed away down the Lady Lakes track, although they did not go far. All members of the party had shouldered their burdens save Snudge, who would simply rest his pack between his feet so as to keep his body unencumbered. He called everyone to draw close to him. His face had gone very pale.

“Friends, let me be frank. I know not what will happen when I make use of this Beaconfolk sorcery. The creatures that some call Great

Lights and others deem the Coldlight Army are obscure and terrible. Even the Mosslanders, who are most familiar with them, know little of their true nature. The Lights savor pain. They torture with whimsical cruelty, as wicked boys sometimes torment hapless bugs or animals for the fun of it. If they fancy themselves offended, they may cast the person who insulted them into the Hell of Ice for all eternity, as we would consign a worn boot or a broken pot to a midden-heap. I myself am willing to risk such a fate out of duty. But here and now I give each of you the opportunity to withdraw from this mission—to decline to accompany me, with no stigma attaching to the act. To any man who would leave, I will give a signed note of quittance, and never think less of his courage.”

They stared at him in silence, while the rain streamed over their leather cloaks. Finally, Gavlok’s squire Hanan Caprock spoke up with cheeky bravado. “The horses are gone, and it’d be a devil of a job catching them. So I figure we’re all bound to go with you, Sir Deveron, even though we’re scared stiff. Let’s just get on with it! Maybe it won’t be so futterin‘ wet on the other side of your magic Gateway.”

When the explosion of laughter faded, Snudge said, “When we arrive, I’ll probably be prostrate and useless. Sir Gavlok is your new commander until I recover, but I appoint Hulo and Radd to organize the camp in the ravine as they think best for the security and comfort of the group. You squires are forbidden to wander off on your own. All of you, remember there are magickers inside Skullbone Peel. To avoid being overseen by them, be as silent and wary as an animal. Use rocks and vegetation to screen your movements so no lookout spots you with his ordinary vision. Windwatchers ordinarily don’t keep constant vigil; it’s too taxing. But they’ll be on you like hounds if they suspect intruders are prowling about—and the highly talented ones can scry you in darkness as well as in daylight.”

He drew from his shirt the chain with the sigils and grasped the door-shaped moonstone carving tightly. “Well, it’s time to go. Crowd close to me now. Make no noise, no matter what happens, and don’t move a muscle until we arrive and are safe.”

Their damp bodies pressed against him, and he heard only the sounds of their breathing, the creak of their harness and packs, and the anonymous rumble of someone’s stomach. Gavlok said, “Shhh!”

Snudge closed his eyes and intoned “EMCHAY ASINN,” and told the sigil where to take them.

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He was alone, seeming to drift in a cold night sky with no land or sea perceptible beneath him.

The uncountable stars were hard and brilliant as gems, at first unwinking against a background of utter blackness, then growing dim as other Lights, many-colored and strangely shaped, began to burgeon and overwhelm them with swelling radiance.

None of the Lights resembled the familiar auroral formations of the Boreal winter sky; there were no flickering beacons or curtains moved by cosmic winds or luminous arcs or glowing clouds. These shining insubstantialities writhed and danced with hectic, intelligent purpose.

Some of them showed eyes or evanescent limbs. All of them had what appeared to be mouths that seemed to form words of the

Salka language. They asked questions, and replied.