The Still (61 page)

I raged the tent, throwing aside all that was in my way. Rustin disappeared, but in a moment he was back with a cool flask of water. “My prince, quench your fires.”

“Bah. That son of a horned toad, that demon spawn, that—”

“Yes, Roddy. Drink.”

Almost, I flung it in his face, but he had a look that made me not dare. Grumbling, I took a gulp. It
was
welcome. I drained the flask. “Are you satisfied?”

“Almost. Sit, and speak of what you gained today.”

“His undying enmity.” I threw myself on a couch. “Look how the tent flaps crack in the wind.” It was the first I’d seen of the Power of Groenfil, and made me uneasy.

“He’s also seen you won’t abase yourself for a crown. That’s of value.”

“He’ll follow Mar, if my uncle offers more.”

“Yet he has concern for the realm. That surprises me.”

“With Tantroth roaming the hills, Groenfil’s no safer than any of us. ‘I want a sign.’ Have you ever heard such nonsense?” I brooded. “I survived, and am here. What more does he want?” I brushed away Rustin’s caress. “Not now; I’m more of a mind to bite than be fondled.”

I poured icy water in a bowl, washed my hands. “It’s lunacy to seek Groenfil’s help. Whatever I offer, he’ll ask double.” I dried my fingers on a wiping cloth, staring moodily at the basin.

“What were the limits of which you spoke? The demands you wouldn’t countenance?”

“Eh? The honor of Caledon. Anything that would destroy my monarchy before it began. We went through that with Uncle Raeth.” I rubbed my frozen fingers.

“Yet you pledged Groenfil’s fief to the garlic-eating Lady.”

“I had ... no choice.” Though I had a plan, that might yet come to fruition. Absently, I opened my hands over the bowl. The water was chill, yet it seemed to bring warmth.

“So. What sign will you bring my lord Earl?”

“He’s heard too many cradle tales.” For a long moment I was lost in reverie. “Devils take him. Better I should ...” Abruptly I withdrew my hands, stared at my palms.

After a moment Rusk asked, “Yes, my prince?”

I strode to the flap. “You, guard! Find your captain and bring him! Make haste! Rust, pack your gear; we’re leaving.” Feverishly, I paced under the canopy.

“Roddy, what is your thought? You seem deranged.”

“I won’t speak of it. Not in sight of Groenfil’s walls.” I paced in growing agitation. Had we fodder? Enough food? Under the circumstances I couldn’t ask Groenfil for provisions. “Ah, Tursel, there you are. We break camp within the hour.”

“My lord? What’s passed, that—”

“Within the hour, did you hear? Don’t gawk, get thee hence. Haven’t we tents to strike, men to rouse? Go!”

“Where do we head?”

“The way we came!”

I
REINED EBON AT TURSEL’S
side, near the head of the column.

The captain’s tone was reproving. “You’re safer in the center of our force, my lord.” I was silent. “Sire, when will we learn the purpose of this mad dash?”

“Tonight, in my tent. How far can we ride by dark? Can we reach Seasand Road?”

“No, only another league at best.”

That night we stumbled about setting up camp, our men grumbling and dog-tired. At last we met in my tent: Elryc, Rustin, Tursel. I bade Genard and Anavar pace outside, lest anyone overhear. “Abide not so much as a crow,” I told them. “Who knows what Powers be set upon us?”

Within, we gathered around the hour candle. First, I swore them to silence, by blood oaths that frightened even me. Then I said, “Margenthar let me think old Vessa, Speaker of the City, was dead. Lord Groenfil said nay, that Tantroth holds him captive. Can anyone think why he might he of it?”

Elryc hesitated. “To fret you, for fear of what Vessa might say to Tantroth.”

“That I sought his vote? All Caledon has heard by now.”

“If it’s a lie,” Rustin said, “it serves no apparent purpose. But if truth, why would he tell us? How does he gain?”

I said, “He called it a morsel to show his good faith.”

Tursel snorted. “What faith? He’s allied to Mar by blood and interest.”

“But he wants Soushire, and Uncle Mar won’t agree.”

“Why not, Roddy?” Elryc perched on my bed, wide-eyed.

“Combined, Soushire and Groenfil would outweigh Verein. Mar won’t risk such a power in Caledon unless he wields the throne. Perhaps not then.”

“But you will?” Rustin.

“I’ll do what I must,” I said carefully. “But Groenfil’s demand confirms that he’s venal. I’d not gain my throne by his hand.” It risked the Still.

“Whose, then?”

I went to the flap, peered out. Anavar stalked past the flap, knife drawn. “No one, sir,” he said. As he disappeared around the side, Genard appeared, going the opposite way.

I turned, faced my three confederates. “Vessa.”

Tursel frowned. “Tantroth holds him.”

“In Llewelyn’s keep, I’ll warrant. It’s the strongest place outside the castle.”

“You mean to sneak in, and take his proxy?”

I paced, my blood rising. “A small force. Forty men, say. No wagons, the freshest horses. We sweep down on Stryx, assail the keep, and take Vessa.”

Stunned silence, from all.

“We’ve surprise, we know the terrain, we have just cause. We even have Tantroth’s black garb that we stripped from their dead.”

Rustin shook his head. “Why did you race from Groenfil’s walls?”

“Caledon reeks of intrigue. The faster we move, the less chance word from Groenfil will outfly us.”

“What could Groenfil reveal?”

“That he told us Vessa lives. And, if he overheard us tonight, who could say he wouldn’t sell my plan to Tantroth?”

Rustin said quietly, “What good is Vessa to us?”

“We’ll have the votes to ratify my crown.”

“How so?”

“Are you fuddled? There’s Willem, Cumber, Soushire—”

“And who else?”

“Vessa, you dolt!”

“Vessa is unseated. What worth has his vote?”

I said angrily, “A quibble. Who would object, were I to convene Council, with him as member?”

Rust regarded me gravely. “Man might recognize your ascension. But would the True?’

My breath caught. Either way, I risked the True, and my Powers. But Vessa, rescued and in my hands, was a sure vote.

Tursel looked between us; we spoke of matters beyond his ken.

“Vessa’s all I have! His vote
must
be valid! Groenfil wants a miracle I can’t provide; what choice have I? We’ll seize the Speaker, and I’ll take my chance with the True.”

“Roddy, think it through. Tarry here a day, while—”

“I forbid it!” To soften my words I added, “Now the thought’s spoken, we must fly to Stryx. We left in such haste Tantroth may not yet know. With surprise, we have a slim chance. Without it, none.”

Rust looked exasperated. “We know not where Vessa is kept. Without that—”

I flung open the tent. Genard squawked in terror, retreating.

“Anavar! Come!”

My ward raced from behind the tent “What? Who attacks?”

“Inside!” I thrust him through the flap. “Tell them, boy. I’ve beaten you, oft treated you ill. Now I’d send you into Stryx, to learn where Tantroth keeps Vessa the Speaker. Will you go, and not betray me?”

Anavar’s head came up. “You’ve but to ask, Prince Rodrigo.”

“There.” I turned to Rust “Now Vessa’s found.”

“And if he’s truly in the keep?”

“We’ll pry him loose. How can we fail, with you to guide—what’s the matter?”

“Why nothing.” Rust’s voice was hoarse.

“The keep’s but a stronghold. You’d fight Eiber in the hills, would you not? In the streets of Stryx town? Then why trouble yourself—oh!” My sense returned at last.

“You understand?” His tone was low.

“Llewelyn your father. He may abide in the keep.”

“Shall I kill him for your crown, Roddy?”

“No, I—”

“Or rather for his treason?”

Tursel stirred uncomfortably.

“Out, Anavar. You too, Captain.”

None were left but Elryc, Rustin, and I.

“Let it not trouble you,” said Rust. He rubbed his brow, as if weary. “It were best long since done.”

Elryc said uncertainly. “Roddy?”

“I know. Leave us. Tell Tursel to choose his best men. We ride before dawn. Have us awakened.”

When we were alone, I went to Rust’s bench, lifted his chin. “You’ll kill me before you lift hand to your father. Swear to it.”

“He’s destroyed my honor. And his own. Mother’s ...”

“Your oath.” Stern in gesture and voice, I made him give it. When we were done I urged, “Come to bed. We’ve little enough time ’til morn.”

“I’ll walk, I think.” He rose.

“Help me with my thongs.” I took his hands, put them to my jerkin. Mechanically, he did as I asked.

“I’m all right, Roddy. Let me go.” He took his cloak.

If one thing was certain this night, it was that Rust must not walk alone.

I knew but one way to stop him. I quelled my distaste; he had done too much to redeem me. Quickly I shucked my clothes, padded across the tent, stood blushing before him.

We rode proudly, three abreast, Anavar, Rustin, and I. Tursel and Fostrow rode just behind. The promise of day lurked over the hills, and I felt every nerve tingle. Rust had kept me from sleep almost until Tursel’s call. I leaned across, tweaked him in the ribs. “This is our moment, Rust. I feel it.”

His smile was wan. “I’m glad, my prince.” Since last night, his sadness had never vanished. Even in the throes of ...” hastily, I turned my thoughts.

We were some two score horsemen, on the strongest and best rested of our mounts. We all wore swords, and many bore javelins as well. Not for the first time, I wished some clever horseman had solved the problem of carrying a long sword while mounted. A saddle sheath rubbed one’s leg incessantly, and an ordinary hip sheath could chafe a steed’s side with every step. And little was more laughable than a sword-armed man trying to mount.

We clattered down the trail. We were nowhere near the Verein crossroads, where the route widened to a respectable road. By carefully pacing our horses we might just reach Stryx before dusk. I dared not spend the night between the cross and the city, lest Uncle Mar block my retreat. No, we’d have to sweep into Stryx from the south, ride the coast road through the market, past the wine shops to the keep.

At noon we left the road to water the horses, and stretch our aching legs. By now we were mostly silent, each with visions of the grim work ahead. My mouth went dry every time I thought of Vessa’s dwelling, and the thongs that had bound my wrists.

Yet my own mood seemed lighthearted compared to some of our men. As we remounted, I called them near. “Some of you ride for me, others from loyalty to Captain Tursel. Regardless, to each of you, a month’s pay doubled, for riding this day.”

That, more than any noble words I could speak, brought a cheer. And I suspected fantasies of gold would sustain them through the long day’s ride. These men had little enough to cheer them; far from home, dependent on a rebel prince’s meager purse. Were Uncle Mar to capture them, or Tantroth or Eiber, they faced a bad end.

Afterward, I occupied my afternoon wondering how to pay them. I’d sell my diadem, if I must, and judge cheap the cost.

As we neared, Tursel sent scouts to probe the crossroads, and as I’d predicted it was unmanned. Its only value to Uncle Mar was when it barred my way, with Treak the other jaw of the trap.

The cross safe behind us, we hurried on. Seasand Road crept out of the hills toward the rocky shore, a longish canter south of Stryx.

At third hour, or thereabouts, I embraced Anavar, bid him race ahead and prowl the city to learn what he could. “Take care,” I said yet again. “If the guards we fought recognize you—”

“I know.” He put a hand on the pommel, to mount. “But there are many young aides in Tantroth’s troop. Some say we’re all alike.”

“I’d go myself, except I couldn’t manage your barbarian accent.”

“You mean our civilized manners.” A quick smile. “Forgive me. Father says offering a jest to one’s elders is like proffering garlic stew to a duchess. Even if she’s hungry she won’t thank you for it after.”

“Anavar, our lives are in your hands.”

“You honor me. And later, perhaps ...” He spurred his mount. “You’ll see your way to raise my stipend.” And he was off before I could object.

I grumbled to Rust, “Is this what it’s like to have a child?”

For a moment his eyes danced. “Oh, no. Much worse.”

The closer to Stryx, the more chance we’d blunder across an Eiberian patrol. We no longer rode alone; we trotted past peasant carts and mule-driving merchants. If some gaped at our passing, we gave no notice. We wore our black cloaks now, to look as like men of Eiber as we could. We’d cantered past a guard post with an exchange of waves.

The afternoon was late, but still short of evening, when we trotted off the coast road to the ruins of a wharf and a warehouse that high seas had destroyed. Waiting among the broken walls was Anavar, just where I’d bidden.

“Hail, Prince.” He stood straight in his saddle. His cheek bore a bruise, between eye and ear. “Vessa lives.” He giggled. “We were at a tavern. I bought drinks, and had to join in downing them.”

“Anavar!”

“Else I’d raise suspicion.” He made himself serious. “What was I saying? Vessa faces execution, but no one knows when. Our lord Tantroth hasn’t decided. Probably at a festival.”

“Where is Vessa?”

He belched. “Who knows? Father says when you can’t find your road, follow hill or dale until—”

Rustin gripped my knee before I could erupt. He slipped from the saddle, clapped his arm amiably around Anavar’s shoulder, led him along the path behind a wall.

I fumed. See what came of setting a boy to a man’s work? Strong liquor was a menace. Once, when we’d slipped out of the castle, Rust had to hold me while I heaved my innards into the sea. I was no younger than Anavar, not much younger than I was now—imps and demons! Was I boy or man?

Soon, though it seemed long, they reappeared. Rustin shrugged quizzically. “Anavar doesn’t know because the soldiers weren’t sure. He thinks the Speaker’s in the keep. He’s been at the keep, our Anavar has.” His tone was brittle.