The Pixilated Peeress (26 page)

             
"Besides, your lowland female might be slain. Even if I told my warriors t
o spare her, in the confusion they would strike at every yellow robe. Ye lowlanders all look alike to us."

             
Thorolf sighed and gave up; but during the following days his resolution crystallized to make his next de
marche against Sophonomy alone. The last
time, he had impulsively plunged in without proper precautions and had accomplished nothing save to alert the cultists against intrusion. He was lucky to have escaped intact, and Gak had been right to call him a fool.

             
Since Thorolf was not normally impul
sive, he won
dered at his own rashness. It must, he thought, be a case of the power of love. Doctor Vipsanio at Genuvia had spoken of the crazy deeds into which love can lead one. Thorolf resolved that next time, he would leave nothing more to chance than
he could help. He began by sending another letter to his father.

             
On the appointed day, when the light powdering of an early snow was melting off the ground, he found the consul seated on a folding chair beside their special pool and fishing. But Zigram w
as not alone. With him on another stool sat Chief Constable Lodar.

             
Thorolf hesitated, wondering if they meant to arrest him. To reassure himself, he scouted stealthily around, using all the skills that his soldierly experience and
h
is sojourn among the t
rolls had taught him. He discovered five guards, sitting in a hollow near their tethered horses and casting dice.

             
Well, he thought, if they should try to spring a sur
prise, he could probably outrun the lot, since he was younger than either Zigram or Lod
ar and not laden with mail like the guards. Taking a deep breath, he stepped out from behind the same spruce sapling that had con
cealed Yvette on their first meeting.

             
"Hail!" he said.

             
"Kernun's toenails!" cried Zigram, dropping his fishing rod. "Start
le me not so, son! Wherefore have ye dragged us elders up here now?"

             
"Information," said Thorolf. "Am I wanted for Bar-di's death?"

             
"Only as a witness; and Gunthram hath posted your name as absent without leave. When the Carinthian ras
cals found some
hedge-wizard to open Bardi's chest, one got drunk on his share of the loot and boasted he'd buy a dukedom. He was heard in a tavern; so he's in durance awaiting the rope; whilst his mates, we pre
sume, have fled back to Carinthia.

             
"The constables scoured
the countryside, seeking a hunchback who, calling himself Bardi's apprentice, was thought to have been either Bardi's slayer or your confederate in the deed; but the Carinthian's boast dis
proved that surmise.

             
"When come ye back to answer the justicers'
ques
tions and resume your post? We are not fain to hang the rascal until we have your tale to complete the puzzle with the final piece. I've told Colonel Gunthram ye fled at my command, to look into a plot against the Com
monwealth and that, therefore,
y
e be liable to no pen
alties. Methinks he believed me not, but he durst not call me liar to my face."

             
"You mentioned that the last time we met," said Thorolf. "But what news of Sophonomy? I am sure the Commonwealth has a spy amongst Orlandus' guards."

             
Zigram and Lodar exchanged glances. The Chief Constable spoke: "Daily their influence grows. Me
thinks at least a third of my constables be under Orlan
dus' thumb. When one of their folk is brought to book, they frighten judges, juries, and witnesses into
inaction, letting the miscreants go free."

             
The Consul added: "A curious tale hath come to our ears, Thorolf. It is that, within the past fortnight, Or
landus and his deputy, an old mountebank and street fighter calling himself Doctor Parthenius, encounte
red your Countess fleeing along a corridor in the castle, pursued by you and a troll. The Psychomage, who knew you not at once, warded off your attack by a spell, whereupon ye twain
—
ye and the troll
—
utterly van
ished. Although all exits are guarded, none
s
aw you emerge; nor did a search of the edifice discover you.

             
"Orlandus concluded that ye had employed a spell of invisibility, like unto that on the spy he sent to follow me hither. So he hath devised a kind of blower, like that wherewith we spray our fl
owers to ward off snails.

             
He hath ordered a hundred of these devices from Grim-bald the sheet-metal worker and plans to charge them with flour. If ye seek to haunt his castle unseen, he'll spray you with this powder, thus making your presence patent."

             
"
'Tis
a trifle cold to run about naked at this sea
son," Thorolf said. "But why asked he not the Count
ess? She knows how I gained access to's stronghold, and the spirit possessing her would have compelled her to answer true."

             
"Another mystery, son. He
did so question her, we are told, whereupon she was stricken with muteness. Not a word hath she spoken since."

             
"Some spell!" said Thorolf. "Yvette normally talks as a horse gallops."

             
"Like that fellow in Helmanax's play who saith a woman who keeps on t
alking can always get her way, eh? Our informant reports that Orlandus contemplates torture to wring the true answers from her. Forsooth, how gat ye into that pile and out again?"

             
Thorolf grinned. "When Sophonomy be expunged, I'll tell you all. Meanwhile
I'm happy to learn you have able spies in the castle. Double-bolt your doors of nights, and farewell!"

-

             
Again, Thorolf stood before the little creeper-masked cliff concealing the tunnel entrance. This time he had come with his pack well laden, trying
to anticipate every contingency. He glanced at the sun, hanging low on the mountain peaks. Since he planned to invade the castle at night, he sat and ate, killing time to wait for dark
ness.

             
At last he rose, brushed crumbs from his hands, and pushed open
the stony door. He paused at the entrance; his old panic surged back. Sweat beaded his brow de
spite the near-freezing temperature. Then he thought of Yvette's slender members stretched on some infernal device, while Orlandus hovered, murmuring in his ol
e
aginous voice:

             
"Now, my dear, you need only answer a few simple questions
...
"

             
Thorolf squared his jaw and marched into the cavity. He paused to ignite a rushlight from his pack, to close the door behind him, and to change from his heavy boots to goat
skin slippers, which he himself had made to enable himself to move in silence.

-

             
Thorolf lost time by mistakenly entering a wrong side tunnel but finally found the opening to the Chamber of Audience in Zurshnitt Castle. Looking through the tear in the canvas, he saw that the room was dimly lit by a single candle. He watched, he estima
t
ed, a full half-hour. Nobody entered the chamber.

             
The candle burned slowly down; in another hour it would gutter out. Thorolf would never let one of his soldiers forget a burning candle! Such carelessness risked a conflagration; besides, candles cost mon
ey, which the colonel had to extract, with much effort, from the Senate and ultimately from the Rhaetian taxpayers.

             
Thorolf dropped his pack on the floor, cast off his cloak, and unrolled a bundle of yellow cloth. This was the robe of the dead invisible
diaphane. He put on the robe, pulled the hood over his head, and lowered him
self through the opening.

             
The painting swung back; Thorolf caught it before it struck the wall and let it gently complete its swing. For an instant he stood on the balls of his
feet, listening. The only sounds were the tramp of sentries on the foot-walk atop the outer wall, punctuated by challenges and passwords. He thought he could hear a snore, but the sound was too faint to be sure of.

             
He slowly drew his sword. The blade cam
e silently, because he had stuffed pinches of moss into the scab
bard. He bolted the left-hand door and stepped to the door on the right. This, if his sketch was correct, should lead to the row of cubicles that included Yvette's bed
chamber.

             
When he open
ed the door to the corridor parallel to that wherein he had chased Yvette the other time, the hall stretched dimly away. At the far end, a wall bracket supported a little lamp, the feeble light of which cast yellow highlights on the metal door handles. Be
h
ind those doors, presumably, slept the upper ranks of the diaphanes.

             
Thorolf stole down the corridor almost to its end. He counted the doors on his right; there were twelve. At the eleventh he halted; if he had his directions straight, this should be Yve
tte's room.

             
He gently tried the door handle. It turned with a mousey squeak. Thorolf peered into the crack and found the room in darkness.

             
On tiptoe, Thorolf let himself in, leaving the door a little ajar to furnish light. The cubicle was tiny; the bed
, a small night table, a chair, and a little wardrobe left hardly space for the occupant to move about. Thorolf froze at the discovery that the bed was empty.

             
He bent, groping for the pillow. The bed had been occupied since it was last made. Thorolf laid
his sword on the bed and sat down, thinking. After a moment he rose and examined the wardrobe. The room was cer
tainly Yvette's. There hung, among other garments, the beaded golden gown she had worn on their aborted as
signation at the Green Dragon.

             
Thi
nking she had possibly risen to visit the jakes, Thorolf sat back on the bed and waited. After half an hour, he was sure that she had departed on some other errand. Could it be that Parthenius had persuaded Orlandus to bend her to his lustful desires? The
very thought infuriated Thorolf; but after his previous raid he had better sense than to go charging about the castle at random, sword in hand.

             
Another half-hour passed before he heard soft foot
steps outside. In came Yvette in a nightrobe and dress
ing
gown, carrying a candlestick whose candle shed a cheerful yellow glow across the unmade bed. When she saw Thorolf she halted, staring blankly.

             
Thorolf sprang up. With a sweepi
ng motion he grabbed the candlestick, blew out the candle, and tossed the holder on the bed. Then he caught Yvette by the shoulders, whirled her around, and clapped a hand over her mouth.

             
She bit his hand, causing him to release his grip for an instant;
but instead of uttering a shriek for help she emitted only an inarticulate, "Mmm! Mmm!"

             
He had come prepared to gag her; but apparently this would not be needed, since she still was under the spell of muteness. Like a frightened animal she tried to punch
and scratch him. But he pinned her slender arms, re
trieved his sword, and hustled her out. He dragged her at a near-run the length of the corridor and into the Chamber of Audience. As he closed and bolted the door behind him, Yvette struggled silently t
o
break free.