The Still (22 page)

My eyes were nearly shut from bites. Genard, screaming as he ran, was well ahead, chasing Ebon. Behind me, silence. I hoped it meant Rust had escaped; were he attacked, I could do naught.

As I ran, the meadow alongside gave way to a dark brooding canopy that made a tunnel of the road. Hearing or imagining the whine of wasps I panted into darkness, feeling more than seeing the roadway, knowing from Genard’s panicked cries that I followed him.

I blundered into something large and wooden, squawked with pain, staggered on. I’d gone no more than three steps when a lash cracked onto my bare back, sounding the clap of doom. I shrieked, fell to my knees. The whip cracked again. I convulsed in torment.

“Begone, scoundrels of the night!” A high-pitched voice, from above, that creaked and grated. “Rob us, would you?” Another lash of the whip, which missed my face by a whisker. “Willem, Verstad, to arms! Wake the others!”

Hands behind me to protect my bleeding back, I lurched away, collided with something hard, went down. I clutched it as I fell; it was a wheel.

“Begone, assassins!”

I gibbered, eyes squeezed shut.

“Don’t hurt the Prince!” Genard scampered toward me, arms spread wide, his blanket gone. “Hold, Dame Hester!” He threw his arms round me, tried to haul me to safety. “Help! Lor’ Rustin! Help!”

Another crack of the whip. Genard howled.

From above, silence. Then, “Roddy? Rustin?”

I wailed, “Please, no more, Hester, I’ll be good!”

The clearing reeled. I tumbled, and knew no more.

I
WOKE TO A
cool compress on my forehead, and forced open my swollen eyes.

Elryc, framed against sunlit canvas, grinned down at me. “You look a fright.”

I blinked, tried to orient myself. “Where ...”

“In the wagon.” As I frowned he added, “Hester’s thrown up a tarp. It makes the cart into a tent.” He looked small, in a worn peasant shirt.

“Hester.” Scratching an itch, I shuddered, recalled the horror of the night. “How did you escape? I know you weren’t in the wagon.”

He smirked. “Turned me into a bird, she did, and I flew over the—”

I snatched at his arm, but he easily dodged me. Dizzy, I fell onto my back.

“Be careful, you’ll—”

“Aiyee!” I spun back onto my side, teeth clenched against the searing pain between my shoulder blades.

“Take care. Aside from the lashes, you’re covered with bites.”

I groaned, threw back the cover to inspect my body. From ankles to shoulders, I was a mass of tiny welts. The sight of them drove me to a fit of scratching and rubbing.

Elryc tried to restrain me. “Hester, he’s at it again!”

A muttered imprecation, and the weight of the cart shifted. The curtain parted. She came into view. “Stop, boy; scratching makes it worse.”

I groaned. “I can’t help it.” I rubbed vigorously at an inflamed bite. “Where’s Rustin?”

“There’s no Rustin. Just Elryc’s boy.” She moved a cask, sat at my side. “He’s tending the horses. It’s about time you woke.”

“Where are we?” I couldn’t see past the canvas, but from the heat I knew it was full day.

“Where we’ve been. By the side of the road.”

I tried to rise. “Move us! When night falls, they’ll swarm!”

“Bah. We had a peaceful night until you crazed brigands came whooping into camp and startled me out of a year I can’t afford.”

I looked about. “How did Willem get here? And who’s Verstad?”

“Who? Oh, those were the first names I could think of. When you attacked us—”

“Hester!”

“Well, you came shrieking in the night, with horses galloping. What was I to think? I had naught but my whip and a dagger good only for close labor, with Elryc to protect.” She threw an arm across his shoulders.

I squirmed, rubbing my knees together to soothe a bite. With the motion, my back smarted anew. I tried to peer over my shoulder. “How bad is it?”

Her tone was gruff. “I’ve seen worse. Try to lie still awhile, and you may not scar.”

I groaned. “Do you have some balm that would ease the itch?”

She considered. “Brandy. A rub with alcohol will help. You’ll smell like an alehouse, but that befits you.” She got laboriously to her feet, fished in a box. “Elryc, unstopper this.” She leaned over, threw back my sheet

My loincloth was gone. I clutched my private parts, trying to shield myself. “Get away!”

Hester snorted. “I diapered you. There’s no part of you I haven’t wiped oft enough. Besides, many’s the man with more to hide.” She upended the flask into a cloth.

Scarlet, I groped for the blanket, did my best to cover myself.

Elryc snickered.

I seized his wrist squeezed until he grimaced. “I almost died to find you, little brother. Laugh again and you’ll pay.”

Hester gave my hand a sharp cuff, pried loose my fingers. “Leave him be. It wasn’t he who ran about naked as a jay, chasing a screaming stableboy.”

I groaned in humiliation, clamped shut my eyes. I thought of throwing her bodily from the wagon, but her brandied cloth brought almost instant relief. Slowly, my fists began to unclench, and despite a resolve to hoard my anger, my muscles began to relax. Reluctantly I submitted myself to her ministrations.

I must have dozed anew. Later I awoke, hot, but much refreshed, to the bumping and jogging of the cart. Someone had left fresh clothes from my saddlebags; I dressed and emerged into the afternoon light.

Legs dangling over the tailgate, Genard sat munching an apple. “’Allo, m’lord.” He wore an outfit I recognized as the one he’d lent Elryc, when my brother was hidden. Behind him, their reins tied to the gate, paced Ebon and Santree.

Steadying himself on the siderail, Genard knocked loose the center pole holding the canvas. He twice folded the sagging tarpaulin, rolled it into a bundle.

The obstruction cleared, I gazed at the backs of the nurse and my brother, sitting together on the high box set. Elryc glanced back over his shoulder, nudged Hester.

She fixed me with a craggy eye. “Show him the apples, Genard. No time to stop for his lazy lordship’s breakfast, or we’ll never reach home.”

“I never asked—” I stopped. It was hopeless; nothing I could say would win Hester’s respect. Remembering the covers she’d snatched from my body, I blushed. Sulkily, I took a proffered apple. “Where’s Rustin?”

The stableboy shrugged. “Dunno, m’lord. Dame Hester made me go back an’ look. I told her to go herself, if she wanted to be stung to death. She said she’d take a stick to me.” He took a bite of his apple like the snap of a predator’s jaws. “Nasty old hag. No bugs, though, she was right about that. And no sign of Rustin.”

I’d feared he’d find Rustin a bloated corpse, crawling with feeding mites. Thank Lord of Nature that wasn’t so. On the other hand, Rust had deserted me and fled to the safety of Seawatch; so much for my loyal vassal. More than once, I’d spat out mouthfuls of grass and hay, when he’d lost his temper over some careless remark. I saw now the advantage of Eiber’s paid and full-time soldiery; at least they played at no hypocrisy of oaths and pretended allegiance.

I sighed, knowing Rustin wouldn’t leave me if he had a choice. Perhaps another evil of the woods had snared him. Morose, I clumped to the front of the wagon. “Where are we headed?”

“To Tarana’s cottage.”

“Where’s that?”

“Where I’ve always said. South of Cumber, outside Fort hamlet.”

“You never told—Hester, why are we on this imp-infested path, instead of the Cumber Trail?”

She nudged Elryc aside, knuckled the seat between us. As I squeezed between them she said, “A faster road, and shorter, that. But I like solitude.”

“For no better reason, you led us on a wild chase through savage—”

“Enough.” A warning glint, as of old. Like a boy, I hushed. She went on,
“You
may be brainless as a hare, but I at least think of Elryc. Cumber Trail is well traveled, especially now that Tantroth’s camped on the coast road. Would you that word went back to Margenthar that Elryc was seen with me?”

My brother’s lips formed, “Brainless as a hare.” Casually, so as not to attract Hester’s attention, I elbowed his ribs, hard enough to narrow his eyes in momentary pain.

I ducked, as we neared a low branch. “You could have bid him when folk approached. This road is a travesty.”

“When you’re King, repair it.”

“And it has evil. Hester, those insects attacked us.”

“They’re what you deserved, you dolt, camping off the roadbed!” She flicked her switch, as if to expend her ire on the horses.

“I don’t ...” I hated to admit ignorance, but we’d blundered into disaster, and I needed to know. “Please, tell me.”

“Have you not heard of the Settling? Think you the land is reconciled to the House of Caledon, while trees still live that knew days before Varon?”

“But there are no folk to wield—”

“Untended, Powers go sour with native cunning. Your mother tamed the roadway, by great effort, while the Still waxed great within her. But think you one Lady could work her will on the whole countryside? The Power of Caled Forest sustains itself, and no one in his right mind not born to this place sets foot off the roadway!”

I swallowed. “No one told me. I mean, I heard about the Settling, yes, but those were just old tales, legends ...”

“We’ll have a fool for a king.” Her face was set, and stony.

I kneaded my knuckles, wondering if ever I’d be free of boyhood. Though I knew myself a man, in her eyes I was nothing.

“Besides,” she added, “had you met me at Whiecliff as you promised, we’d have conferred about our path. As it was, I knew not whether to wait for you.”

“I couldn’t help it.” All my life, whatever I’d done, I had to ward off her rebukes. Oft, they were unstated, but made themselves felt in her tone or glance. My voice was sullen. “Uncle Mar tried to impound me in the castle, and then we barely got past Tantroth. Genard’s horse was shot from under him.”

“Yes, he told me how gallantly you rode back for him.” Suspicious, I searched her face, but found nothing. I changed the subject. “How far are we past the rock?”

“By horse, three hours at most. But the cart is slow.”

“And noticeable. We had but to ask, and it was remembered.” As was the spectacle of Hester herself. I thought better of saying so. “An old woman and a boy, they said. How did you get Elryc out from—”

“M’lord! Dame Hester!” Genard scrambled forward. “Someone follows!”

I jumped to my feet, almost fell from the wagon’s high seat. Could it be Rustin?

A tired nag stumbled over the small rise, doggedly followed our track. It could barely keep pace with the drays.

My heart fell. Rust had no horse; his Santree followed our wagon.

In the distance the rider, bare-chested, waved menacingly.

And he had two heads.

I chilled at this new evil wrought by the forest. Tighter I gripped my sword. If one head were lopped, would the demon die?

As if to reveal the answer, he rose in the saddle, shouted words lost to the wind, windmilled his arms.

I groped for my dagger, found none. Like most of my gear, it had been lost in the clearing. Thank Lord of Nature my crown was wrapped safe and in Ebon’s saddlebag, else I’d have had to return for it, even if it cost my life.

“Elryc, crawl beneath the canvas!” Hester’s rheumy old eyes peered. “I can’t see so far.” She hurried the horses. “Roddy, you hide too. Now that you’re fugitive from the Duke, you mustn’t be—”

“Cower under a blanket? Bah. Give me a weapon!”

She sighed. “Well, if you’re ever to reach manhood, I suppose you must defend yourself. There’s a half-sword in the green-painted trunk.”

I leaped for the blade.

“Don’t show the sword yet,” Hester growled. “Sharp steel sets a tone, and he may be a simple—”

“Yes, Nurse. Genard, untie Ebon and Santree. Mount one and lead the other. Ride ahead of the cart, to safety.”

“I’m not afraid, m’lord. Let me—”

“Who cares about you? I won’t have Ebon injured. Be quick!”

His eyes bleak, the boy jumped directly from the cart to Ebon’s saddle. He unhitched the reins, sped off, Santree in tow. I recalled Rustin’s good sword was still tied to Santree’s saddle, but there was no time to call Genard back. He reined in a hundred paces beyond the cart, turned to watch.

The wagon jounced down the road, Hester muttering grim imprecations to her horses.

From ahead, the gallop of hooves. I whirled to meet the new threat, saw Genard streak past on Ebon. “Lor’ Rustin! Hi aiyee! Lor’ Rustin!”

I squinted. Had Rustin been taken by the forest, transformed into some unspeakable two-headed—

My grip on the sword relaxed. Two riders. No wonder the nag could barely keep pace.

Their elderly horse looked ready to lay itself down. As our wagon rolled to a standstill, Rustin jumped from the saddle, led the nag and rider the remaining fifty paces.

Panting, Rustin drew near. I dropped the sword, leaped down, the better to berate him for his perfidy in abandoning us. I drew breath as he rushed close. “Where have you been, you ungrate—”

He enveloped me in his arms, squeezed the breath from me. “Thank Lord you’re safe! I was worried sick!” My feet dangled as he danced me across the roadway. The reopened cuts on my back stung like fireants.

“Ow! Put me down, you oaf!”

“Couldn’t you hear us shout? Why wouldn’t you stop?”

I managed to free myself, but not before he planted a kiss on my nape. Angrily, I wiped it off. My gaze fell again on his companion. “You!” I whirled back to Rust. “With all the misery we endure, you had to fetch that ... harlot?”

His mouth tightened. “Speak softly, Roddy. She—”

Chela jumped down from the wheezing mare. “Call me that, who risked my life to join you and Lord Rustin? Prince or no, I’ll scratch—” She lunged at my eyes.

Rustin dived between us, held us apart. “Don’t. You’re both my friends. Chela, behave; he’s my liege lord! Ow! Roddy, why do you hit me?”

The whip cracked sharply over our heads, and brought us to our senses. Hester’s glare was enough to wilt a lily. She clambered down from her high perch. “Lunatics, the lot of you.”