Sorcerer's Moon (45 page)

'I'll be there with my wife Induna. Our clothes are shabby and very dirty. I'm tall and nondescript and I wear a beard now. She's a little thing, lovely as a day in May, with red-gold Tarnian hair . . . And, by the way: I'm called Deveron now - except by the Beaconfolk.'

I see. Deveron it is. We'll try not to be late.

'If you are, don't worry, my lord. Look first into the tavern, and if you don't see us, just hang about the fountain and wait for someone not-quite-visible to tap you on the shoulder.'

* * *

Corodon and Hyndry rode side by side along the main marshland track, leading the hawking party back to the castle. She still carried her beautiful peregrine on her wrist, and praised the bird lavishly for its prowess in killing six teal. Corodon's borrowed goshawk had taken an instant dislike to him and behaved badly, and was now consigned to the custody of the castle falconer. But the prince cared naught for that.

The important thing was, Hyndry had drunk the potion.

The group of high-born young people - the Prince Heritor and Princess Royal, two of her equerries, two ladies-in-waiting - together with three hunt servants and the falconer, had eaten their picnic on a pleasant wooded islet in the great marsh. Corodon, playing the devoted suitor to the superciliously indifferent Hyndry, had simply poured the philtre into his own solid gold goblet, filled it and the silver one belonging to the princess with wine, and insisted that she drink from his and keep it because only a golden vessel was worthy of her lovely lips. The sentimental speech (and the obvious value of the goblet) had made the ladies giggle and the equerries roar in approval and insist that Hyndry accept the gift.

'One does not judge a horse by the faulty skills of its rider,’
she said with a lofty smile, 'or a meal by the surly temper of the cook. So why should I despise this pretty cup because it belonged to a royal nincompoop? . . . I'll keep it.' She downed a hearty pull of wine while her companions applauded and Corodon pretended to be abashed by the insult.

He lay a gentle hand upon her shoulder before anyone else could touch her and made sheep's eyes. 'Every time you drink from it, sweet lady, please remember your brokenhearted, rejected suitor kindly.'

'I'll remember you one way or another,' Hyndry said, 'but it won't spoil my pleasure in using the cup.' She drank the rest of the wine.

There was much laughter at poor Coro's expense, and then they resumed the hunt.

At first, the prince saw no change in the older woman's manner toward him. She made snide remarks when his hawk refused to fly for him, and laughed in malicious delight when the bird tore apart the lone duck it had downed, instead of waiting for the hunt servant to retrieve it. But when the last bird was bagged and the party headed homeward, Hyndry surprised her ladies by commanding Corodon to ride beside her.

For a time she was silent, then she began questioning him about hawking customs in Cathra and other sports afield.

He thought: By God, she's weakening! The love philtre works! I wonder if I can get her drunk at dinner tonight?

They continued on, chatting more or less amiably, until one of the servants gave a cry. 'Ho!
Look over there beside that creek - a fine horse loose with neither bridle nor saddle.'

'Oh, he's a beauty!' Princess Hyndry exclaimed. 'Avrax, we must catch him and take him with us.'

Then all you royals and gentlefolk stand stock still,' the man said, quietly dismounting.

He muttered to one of his mates, who handed him an apple from the picnic hamper and a long strap from one of the saddlebags. Looping the leather through its buckle, Avrax crept up on the magnificent animal. It was a dark bay stallion with black points, splattered with mud and rolling its eyes skittishly.

Holding out the fruit and speaking soft and coaxing words, Avrax soon had the strap looped about the horse's neck. He patted its muzzle while the big yellow teeth crunched up the apple, then led it back to the waiting party, who gave congratulations in low voices so as not to startle the captive.

Avrax tugged his forelock to the princess. 'He's well-behaved. Royal Highness, and bears a brand that's unfamiliar to me. Cathran, I'd say.'

Corodon urged his mount closer. 'I know it. The wavy cat-scratches comprise the mark of our Lord Constable.'

The falconer spoke up. 'There was talk of how he rode out last night with a few of his men and never returned.'

'Well, it seems his horse might have been heading for the castle stable,' Corodon said. 'I don't like that its harness is missing. The beast didn't simply slip away from its rider. Are there brigands or other outlaws along this marsh track?'

'Never, Your Grace!' said Avrax indignantly. 'This is civilized country.' His glance shifted. 'But the bogs and mudholes can be dangerous to those who don't know 'em.'

‘I doubt Lord Tinnis fell into a bog,' Corodon said somberly. 'Bring the horse, my man. We must hasten to the castle and report this to my royal father.'

'To both our fathers,' Hyndry added. 'Let's be off, Coro. A silver mark says I'll beat you to the postern gatehouse!'

By the end of the afternoon, Maudrayne and the two armigers had come through the steepest part of the downhill grade on
the Didion side of Great Pass. Durin Kyle, the youngest boy, who had been riding ahead, abruptly wheeled about and rejoined the two others.

'I caught sight of Castlemont below us!' he cried eagerly.

'It's still at least ten leagues away,' his brother Tormo scoffed.

'I saw it, I tell you. My eyes are much better than yours. Another couple of hours and we'll be there! I've heard it's a fine place to spend the night. Real beds with feather pillows even in the less expensive rooms. Fine food and drink for those who dine in the hall.' He addressed Maudrayne. 'We will eat in the great hall, won't we, my la - messire? Can we afford it?'

'We can,' she replied with a smile. Mealtimes were the most important part of the day for growing boys. 'And both of you will do so. But it would be safer if I ate in my room -'

The sound of a horn echoed amongst the crags, along with shouts of warning. 'Make way! Make way!'

Maude swore. 'Off the track quickly, lads. Here comes another party in a tearing hurry.'

They pulled aside just in time. A cavalcade of three richly dressed individuals attended by a dozen retainers thundered by in a spray of muddy water.

'That's the fifth hell-for-leather bunch to overtake us,' Tormo remarked. 'What d'you suppose the great rush is about?'

Maudrayne went stiff in her saddle. 'God of the Starry Roads - I think I know. Do you remember the conversation we overheard while waiting at the frontier guardpost at the top of the pass? One of the wagon-train captains who'd passed through Boarsden said that the Army of the Sovereignty would begin moving out of there tomorrow, in the hours before dawn.'

Durin was puzzled. 'Why would that cause people to hurry?'

'Because the authorities will close the entire road to civilian traffic, you blockhead!' his older brother exclaimed. 'Any travelers spending the night at Castlemont will be stuck there for who knows how long - days, maybe! - until the troops and their supply trains pass by.'

Maude said, 'You're right. Persons with important affairs in Tarn - or even in the Didionite cities downriver from Boarsden - would want to pass through that section of the road while they're still able. And so must we, lads.'

They stared at her. Tormo said, 'Must we bypass Castlemont, then, and proceed directly to Boarsden? Messire, even if we change horses and carry torches we would not arrive until the middle of the night. Can you endure such a long ride?'

'I can,' she replied grimly. 'But we're not going to Boarsden. Unless I miss my guess, the army will make its first overnight bivouac in the vicinity of Rockyford Way Station. It's an exceptionally secure Wold-Road establishment operated by Cathra, not Didion, used mainly by diplomatic couriers, Tarnian gold and opal merchants, and others bearing precious cargo. It would be the perfect spot for High King Conrig and the other leaders to spend the night.'

And Dyfrig as well, she thought.

'Do you intend to press on to Rockyford tonight, then?' Tormo was confused. When she nodded, he said, 'May I ask why?'

'We'll sleep and eat there, then depart in the morning long before the first advance guard of the army arrives. But we won't go far. We'll find a safe place for you two to hide. But I intend to return to Rockyford after dark tomorrow.' A remote smile touched her lips. 'I have private business with
one of the guests who will be staying there ... or perhaps with two.'

* * *

Watty Peascod's tavern furnished Deveron and Induna with a good meal. When there was still no sign of Stergos and Dyfrig as the midnight bell tolled, Deveron gave coins to the potboy and said to Induna, 'Let's wait outside, love. Too many people are giving us the eye, knowing we've money on us.'

They slipped out the door, carrying pack and fardel, and immediately Deveron invoked the simple spell of couverture that would cause ordinary passers-by to ignore them as though they were invisible. Most of the square was still alive with people. The imminent departure of the Army of the Sovereignty had prompted the whores and sundry-pedlars to come out in force, seeking last-minute trade as Boarsden Town emptied of its temporary throng of visitors.

Induna sat on the parapet of the fountain's wide basin, into which six streams of water poured from the mouths of heraldic swine. She felt deathly weary after a hard night and day without sleep. They had arranged to stay at a small inn near the town gate, and she did not look forward to the prospect. The place was mean and miserable, but it had been the only hostelry with room for them in its communal dormitorium.

'Where can Dyfrig and Stergos be?' she muttered crossly, after another half hour passed and no one approached save persons filling water-jars or buckets or giving their horses a drink. 'Did you release the cover-spell so that they might find us?'

'Be patient, love. I think I scry them now. See? They're just coming out of that lane next -to the tavern.'

The cloaked figures who approached were plainly dressed but beyond a doubt persons of quality. The scruffy crowd parted before them and importunate whores scattered like
shooed chickens. One man was of slight stature, with a round, pleasant face that bore an air of deceptive youthfulness -save for the deep-set eyes with their gleam of powerful talent. The other was much younger and very tall. When Deveron magnified the blond-bearded countenance with his scrying ability he uttered a gasp of astonishment, for Dyfrig was the very image of the youthful Prince Heritor Conrig whom he had attended in the stableyard of Cala Palace so many years ago.

'Is something wrong?' Induna whispered anxiously.

'Not at all. The prince's resemblance to his father is extraordinary. I wonder that the pretense of calling him a bastard born of Maudrayne's adultery was able to be sustained.'

Stergos made no bones about embracing the former Royal Intelligencer wholeheartedly. 'Sir Deveron! Even after all these years, I would have known you anywhere. And you must be Sealady Induna, honored by Sernin Donorvale himself. May I present Prince Dyfrig Beorbrook.'

'Your Grace,' the two of them murmured in unison.

'I'm sorry we're late,' the Royal Alchymist said. 'Tonight's supper at the castle turned rather tumultuous when Didion's Princess Royal unexpectedly announced that she intended to entertain the suit of Prince Heritor Corodon after all.'

Dyfrig grimaced. 'Say it plainly, my lord: King Somarus was carried from the hall after collapsing in a spasm of apoplectic rage. His Majesty seems to be resting comfortably now, but a riot between Didionite opponents of the match and Cathran supporters nearly came to bloodshed before the Sovereign restored order by sheer force of his personality.'

'Let us speak no more of this,' Stergos said. ‘I have already explained to His Grace why you wanted to see him, Deveron.'

The prince's face tensed. ‘I believe you have a very important letter for me. From my mother, who was said to be dead. Is she truly alive and well?'

'I have been told that she escaped from the place in northern Cathra where she was imprisoned. Other than that, I know nothing of her movements, save that she will certainly attempt to find you.' Deveron already had the gold locket tucked in his glove. He extracted it and handed it to Dyfrig. 'The message from her is inside. You should know that this was carried to Didion by a faithful woman friend of the Princess Maudrayne, who was foully murdered by persons who would have taken it away from her. Her name was Rusgann. Today we buried her.'

Dyfrig responded in a low voice, staring at the locket in the palm of his hand as though it were a harbinger of doom. 'God rest her. Lord Stergos has already apprised me of that sad fact. Do you know what the letter says, Sir Deveron?'

'I have only a general knowledge of its contents, Your Grace. Would you like to read it now? My talent can soften the black cement that seals the locket shut.'

'‘I -' The prince turned to Stergos
with a haunted expression. The Royal Alchymist simply lowered his eyes.

'Very well,' Dyfrig said to Deveron. 'Please open it - although it may be hard to read anything in this poor light.'

Without a word, both Induna and Stergos held up their index fingers, from which little yellow flames suddenly sprang. 'I forgot I was in the presence of talented ones,' the prince said.

Deveron held the locket between his palms and warmed it with magic to a point greater than blood heat. When the resin finally lost its adhesive grip, he pried open the golden case, removed the many-folded square with its dots of sealing wax, and handed it to Dyfrig.

With difficulty, the prince read the lines of tiny handwriting by the light of the two flames. When he finished, his face was white and his hands had begun to tremble. He refolded the missive, replaced it in the locket, and put it into his purse.

'My - my mother enjoins me to trust you, Sir Deveron. So does Lord Stergos, who believes you have been sent by - by certain powerful persons to help me through perilous times to come.' Dyfrig composed himself with a visible effort of willpower. 'If you and your lady will consent, I wish you to accompany me now to Boarsden Castle. Horses are waiting for us at a stable not far from here. We can enter the bailey secretly, beneath the cloak of Lord Stergos's magic, and we two will see you comfortably lodged for the night. I can tell you're in sore need of rest. Later . . . we'll talk of future plans.'