The Fugitive Prince (Bell Mountain) (10 page)

Once upon a hilltop, just as he and Cavall were about to go down and resume their trek, Ryons spotted a cloud of dust, and then the horsemen who were raising it. By their headdress and their mode of riding he knew them for Wallekki; but he very much doubted they were any of his Wallekki, so he crouched behind a bush and didn’t get up until they were out of sight. It was a reminder that the land was still full of deadly enemies, remnants of the vast host that the Thunder King sent into Obann last year.

“Close call!” he whispered to Cavall. He didn’t want to think about what such men would do if they captured him and realized who he was. “Off to Kara Karram to get my eyes burned out!”

The country was unpopulated, but not barren. Wild blackberries grew everywhere, and Cavall caught unwary ground-squirrels and rabbits. Springs bubbled up from the ground. Wildflowers painted the landscape with glorious color. Ryons’ favorites were the pale purple maidens-kisses, which attracted pale purple butterflies, and the brilliant vermilion huzzahs, which didn’t grow east of the mountains. So, on the whole, it was a pleasant journey, as long as one could avoid the Heathen stragglers by day and the gigantic hunting birds that came out at night.

Three days into his journey, in the middle of the day, Ryons saw black smoke rising ahead of him; but whatever was burning was hidden behind a stand of gnarled, twisted waxbushes. The sun glinted off their shiny leaves, and above them fluttered a multitude of sparrows, feeding on the various insects attracted to the waxbushes’ scent. The presence of the birds suggested there was nothing to fear. Ryons advanced—cautiously, with a hand on the nape of Cavall’s neck. Cavall would warn him if there was any danger.

The boy and the dog crept up close to the waxbushes. Ryons dropped to his hands and knees and crawled in among the stunted tress, Cavall behind him. The sparrows didn’t like it, and chirped a protest. It was shadowy under all that foliage, with a lot of tiny bugs that persistently flew into your face. Ryons felt the hairs standing up on Cavall’s neck; but the great hound had too much sense to give away their position by growling.

They reached a point where they could see what lay on the other side of the trees, and there they froze.

It was a wagon that was burning. Its wheels were broken, and there was no sign of any horses, mules, or oxen that might have pulled it. Black smoke billowed up from it.

Sitting beside it, roasting something on a stick, was a tall man in dusty buckskin clothes, with a shapeless cloth cap on his head. Standing beside him—towering over him, in fact—was a gigantic bird with long, strong legs, tiny wings, plumage more like filthy hair than feathers, a long, powerful neck, a head as big as a horse’s head, bright yellow eyes like wicked jewels, and a massive beak with a cruel hook at the end of it.

Ryons had seen such birds before, but at a healthy distance. Up close, it was a sight to take your breath away. But this killer stood peacefully beside the man, and the man seemed to take no notice of it.

“Whoever you are in there,” the man sang out, without bothering to look in Ryons’ direction, “you can come on out. We won’t hurt you.”

Come out—with that murdering great bird standing there? But was it still possible to escape? Ryons didn’t think so.

“Don’t make us come in after you,” the man said. “It’s too nice a day for that.”

Ryons crawled out from under the waxbushes and stood up, with one hand holding on to Cavall’s fur. The great bird swiveled its head to look at them, but made no other movement. The man looked at them and smiled.

“Well, well—a boy and a dog,” he said. “And what might you be doing out here, all alone in bandit country? You could wind up like the folks who owned this wagon.”

“You’re not a bandit?” Ryons couldn’t help asking.

“No, not me. I just wander, seeing what’s what. My name is Perkin.” He jerked his head at the bird. “And this is Baby—my baby, actually.”

Ryons didn’t know how to answer that, and the man laughed at him.

“It’s true,” he said. “I raised him from a little chick no bigger than my hand. Boy, howdy, did he grow fast! But he’s attached to me, and he won’t go anywhere without me. Don’t be afraid of him. He won’t hurt you unless you try to hurt me. Come and sit down, and have a bite to eat.”

Cavall didn’t seem to be too much put off by the bird or the man, so Ryons decided to sit down.

“What’s your name, boy?”

“Ryons.”

“Just like the king, eh? Ever seen him?”

“No.” Ryons shook his head. Maybe he should have lied about his name, but it was too late now.

“Never been in Obann City, myself,” Perkin said. “I don’t think they’d let me in with Baby, and I won’t go without him.” He looked up at the bird. “Sit down, Baby.” And the killer sat down next to him. “Where are you headed, Ryons—if you don’t mind my asking?”

Ryons shrugged. “Lintum Forest,” he answered.

“That’s a long way off. And the country’s full of bandits. It’s dangerous. Maybe I’d better go with you for a ways.”

“Why would you want to do that?”

“I can do anything I please,” Perkin said. “I want to protect you from the bandits. You see this wagon? There were people in it. The bandits took them to sell them into slavery, or else just kill them for the fun of it. They took the animals, too, and everything that was in the wagon. They didn’t want the wagon, so they broke it up and burned it. I saw the whole business from a hilltop. But there were an even dozen of them, all on horseback, so Baby and I didn’t interfere. When the bandits left, I came down to cook my dinner on the fire.”

He withdrew the stick from the flames, sniffed it, and took a little taste. He tore off a piece and tossed it into the air. Baby caught it and swallowed it.

“Roast rabbit,” he said. “Have some.”

It was delicious, and finished all too soon. Cavall got a share, too. Perkin yawned and stood up.

“Let’s move on,” he said. “It’s a nice day for a walk, and it’s a long way to Lintum Forest.” Ryons noticed, then, that he wore a short sword in a leather sheath and had a sling tucked into his belt.

Why would the stranger want to protect him? Maybe it was a trick. Maybe he and Cavall could quietly leave him during the night, Ryons thought. But he said, “It’s good of you to travel with me, sir. Thank you.”

Perkin had a lean, tired, weather-beaten face; but when he grinned at Ryons, he looked full of life and ready for anything.

“It’s my pleasure to do it,” he said. “Anyhow, I wouldn’t like to trip over your skeleton someday and think it was my fault you were killed. Besides, you’ll be someone to talk to for a few days.”

Ryons walked off with the wanderer, with the enormous killer bird stalking ahead of them and Cavall sticking close to Ryons’ side. He hadn’t entirely made up his mind about these strangers. But Ryons reminded himself that he was under God’s protection, and silently prayed it would continue to be so.

Chapter 13

How Dakl Came to the Palace

Gurun was not really queen of anything, although everybody called her one and she’d given up trying to make them stop. The people of the city cheered her whenever they saw her (which she didn’t understand), and the chiefs accepted her because she, like Obst, had the gift of understanding tongues.

But now or never, she supposed, she would have to play the queen. If the chiefs decided to cast her out of the city, so be it.

She went to see the Chief Spy in his office, and she went alone, telling no one of her errand. It used to be a little-used storeroom in a remote corner of the sprawling government edifice that was now the royal palace. For all most people in the palace knew, it still was.

“How may I serve you?” Gallgoid asked. He didn’t say “Your Majesty.” But he did go to his door, peer up and down the hall before shutting it, and move a chair into position for her. Nor did he go back behind his desk until she was seated.

“I want to ask you to do something,” she said. “It’s for the good of the kingdom; but for the time being, no one else must know about it.”

“I try always to act for the good of the kingdom,” Gallgoid said. Gurun knew he’d once committed treason, but that was in the past and it couldn’t concern her now.

“I want you to arrest a man named Vallach Vair and all his household,” Gurun said. “He has been plotting against the king.”

Gallgoid nodded. “I’ve heard this,” he said.

“There is a slave woman in his house named Dakl. She must not be harmed in any way, but brought to me instead—secretly, if possible.”

“I think it would be best if she were taken with the rest of the household and separated later,” Gallgoid said. “Also, Vallach Vair has a wife, a son who is a young man but still lives in his father’s house, and a daughter who is still a child. There are eight slaves in the household, including Dakl.”

“You do know something about this!” said Gurun.

“It’s my business to know. You know something, too; but I won’t ask you how you came to know it. I’ll arrest them all this evening, when they’re home for supper.”

“I don’t like the idea of arresting the man’s children.”

“I won’t hurt them,” Gallgoid said.

“The chiefs complain that you know everything before they know it,” Gurun said.

“That’s my penance,” Gallgoid said.

Vallach Vair was having jellied eels for supper. He liked rich foods, and it showed. But this was a supper that was never finished.

With no forewarning from his doorkeeper, eight men armed with short swords burst into his dining room. He very nearly choked.

“What’s this!” he growled. The intruders wore no uniforms, no badges, and he took them right away for strong-arm robbers. “You’re making a big mistake, whoever you are!” But he fell silent when he found a sword’s point at his throat.

“Come with us, Vallach Vair. All of you, come. Don’t struggle or try to escape, or you’ll get hurt.”

They forced him up from his seat. He had only time to see them doing the same to his wife and children before someone pulled a felt hood down over his head and tightened it around his neck; and then he could see nothing at all.

Gallgoid only entered the room after all the family had hoods over their faces and their wrists fettered.

“Those two in the first coach,” he said, “the son and daughter in the second. Don’t question them until I say so.”

Outside on the street, a cart was already pulling away with Vallach’s slaves huddled in it, cowed by two unsmiling men with swords. Fnaa’s mother, Dakl, was in that cart.

Gallgoid had the family taken off in closed coaches, then made his own way back to the palace. His agents had heard things about Vallach Vair, but he wondered how Gurun could have heard them. He deemed it best, for the time being, to pretend he’d acted on his own initiative. He would keep Gurun out of it, if he could. It would be safer for her. Having served as an assassin for Lord Reesh, and his confederate in treason, Gallgoid understood the subtleties of such a situation.

When he got back to the palace, a surprise was waiting for him.

“They’re dead, sir—both of them, man and wife,” one of his agents told him. “They were dead when we opened the coach to take them out. They must have had poison hidden on their persons.”

“I didn’t expect that.” Gallgoid shook his head, blaming himself. “Don’t tell the son and daughter, or the slaves. Find a maid to keep the little girl company. I’ll question the son myself.

“I want the slaves separated for now. They’ll be questioned later. Don’t hurt them or scare them any worse than they’re scared already. But the woman named Dakl, bring her to my office and privately inform Queen Gurun—and no one else.”