The Prince
chewed his lip and slapped his reins against his thigh. Fireheel pranced
nervously, chaffing at being held to a walk.
“This, then,”
said the son of Surehand, “when I depose Strongblade, we’ll hold a plebiscite
and let the people of Coramonde decide.”
Van Duyn
nodded. “Fair enough. In return for this, though, your commitment to our cause
is unstinting?”
Springbuck
concurred, and they rode on together in silence.
Andre left his
sister’s side and fell in with them. The deCourteneys, of course, could have
gone on to Freegate at far faster pace by means open only to them. But Andre
had reckoned that the others might well need guidance and perhaps other,
special help as well, and so the two went by prosaic paths.
“One thing
you’ve not yet told us, young Pretender,” Andre said. “When you ran back to
speak to Amon in his hall, what words passed between you and the demon?”
His mind yanked
back from thoughts of the carven throne in Earthfast to the unpleasant problem
he’d been wrestling with since their return from the Infernal plane. The Prince
hesitated, but he judged that the others had a right to hear.
“I told him
that I knew that Strongblade is Yardiff Bey’s son, and I asked who Bey’s
daughter is. He laughed even then at the humor of our not knowing and said
that… that Bey’s firstborn, his daughter, is Gabrielle.”
Van Duyn went
white. “A lie!” he whispered.
Andre said
nothing.
“No, I think
not,” Springbuck said. “And I have tussled with this thought for some time.
Rumor has always had it that Bey can wear many disguises.
“Put aside your
prejudices, then, and think. Why could it not have been him, Bey, who tempted
Andre’s father and won for himself the default to beget a child of Andre’s
mother. Look you: why has Bey been at odds with Andre for years untold but
never with Gabrielle? He has never offered her hurt, never struck at his
daughter once except in killing the husband who had won and held her unswerving
affections.
“And who has
been Gabrielle’s enemy? Mara, who is Bey’s rival before their mutual patron,
Amon. When Bey had Gabrielle at his mercy in Amon’s hall he did her no harm;
knowing that Mara would be there, he posted the old woman with the aclys whom
Olivier killed as a guard over both his daughter and the baby we rescued.”
“I resist this
thought,” Andre said, “but I find it well reasoned and convincing. It is
supportive of… things I’ve suspected.”
“Why then would
Bey try to capture her?” asked Van Duyn. “Can he possibly hope for some sort of
reconciliation with her?”
Springbuck
replied; “Andre’s sister has told us that she knew that the baby is extremely
important to Yardiff Bey, but I think that it is no offspring of Bey himself.
Now consider this: one of his two children, Strongblade, has given Bey access
to tremendous worldly power, the armed might and political influence of
Coramonde, while the other child, Gabrielle, is the greatest source of pure
sorcerous force, a potent tool in his second sphere. I think he meant to win
Gabrielle over somehow by using the child.”
But Andre was
shaking his head. “No. The omens, the stars, every divination my sister and I
could carry out over the babe point to this, that she is of critical importance
in some facet of the battle being waged against Shardishku-Salamá. But I doubt
her use as a lever for my sister.”
Springbuck was
about to speculate again when a cry came to them from ahead. Their eyes pursued
the direction of an arm raised to the sky and saw there, high above them, a
silvery object riding the night, uncertain of shape and poised on columns of
red flame.
“Bey’s flying
ship,” Andre said, and they halted to gape at the sinister visitation. They
were exposed on a grassy, rock-studded slope in the moonlight, but the aircraft
came no lower nor did it linger, but sped unheedingly eastward.
Gabrielle
galloped back to them excitedly. “Yardiff Bey! He’s scum, of course,” she said,
her breathing quickened, “but, oh! What a thing to accomplish. To get the
Gnomes and the Deep-Rock Dwarves to labor together for twelve years and forge a
metal beyond metal and imprison a fire elemental within.”
The three
looked at her worriedly, searching for any approval or enthusiasm for her
father beyond his works. Andre said, “Springbuck and Edward were about to take
the head of the column for a while. Why don’t you ride here with me? I will
speak with you for a bit.”
She glanced
from face to face to mask in the moonlight, perplexed; but as the group began
to move again, she brought her roan lightly around until her knee brushed her
brother’s. As Van Duyn and the Prince trotted to the head of the band, the
older man unslung his rifle from his shoulder. “We’ll have to accelerate the
pace a bit,” he said. “Yardiff Bey was no doubt scouting for us. I don’t think
he’s seen us or has many loyal troops in this region yet. The slaying of
Chaffinch and the raid on Amon’s hall gave him reason for pause, but he’ll come
after us eventually and we have a long way to ride before we can breathe
easily.” Nevertheless they held a slow pace while Andre and Gabrielle rode
speaking at the rear of the file. They glanced back occasionally and saw after
a time that the magician and his sister had stopped and it seemed in the
dimness that she burrowed her head at her brother’s shoulder as if weeping. They
both wanted to go to her. They both restrained themselves.
Soon the
deCourteneys were apart and moving along again. By mutual agreement, the
American and the Prince started the company moving at a fast trot. Conversation
ended as they all concentrated on guiding their horses across the rough ground,
the trail being rutted. By cutting overland they might have saved distance, but
Springbuck felt that they’d lose time. Since they might have been sighted by
Yardiff Bey, they elected to take the route affording the greatest speed,
albeit more perilous.
The Western
Tangent was deserted except for the fugitives. The Prince wondered that Bey had
not raced to alert some outpost of their coming; then it occurred to him that
the wizard, if he had seen them, would still have difficulty in locating a
friendly garrison at night, for there were a number of family Keeps in the area
that would show him scant hospitality.
Old and broad
as it was, built before the Great Blow fell, the Tangent rose, dipped and
turned but little, striking through the countryside like a bowshot. Their
progress was rapid; when they passed an occasional waypost along the road, they
found each unmanned, relieving them of the necessity of bluffing or forcing
their way past the Constabulary of the Road. Twice they spied approaching
groups of travelers, the first mounted and the second afoot. But in each case
the others left the Tangent to avoid them. Springbuck speculated that these
were highwaymen grown bold with the absence of the Constabulary, but Andre said
that it might just as well have been honest folk thinking
they
were
brigands. As for the missing Constabulary, the wizard felt that they could have
departed for fear of Bulf Hightower, brother to the slain Rolph, who would no
doubt swear death to any man of Strongblade’s or Fania’s whom he encountered,
for the land they approached was under his seigniory.
The country
changed from relative openness to more densely wooded stretches. At one point
the soil under the Tangent had been etched away by a river which had not been
there when the Tangent was built. They rode an unsupported span of the Western
Tangent for a stretch of thirty yards or more while angry waters roiled
beneath, yet the Tangent was as steady and unyielding at this point as at any other.
The sky was
brightening with the rising sun when they went some distance into the wood at
the side of the road and encamped in a small glade by a watershed pond amid
lush grass, strange scarlet moss and clusters of peculiar purple blossoms. At
one end of the glade were sections of ruined wall, some remnant of times before
the Great Blow. Beyond was an interesting antiquity, a crystalline cube with
sides the length of a tall man and, within it, like a fly in amber, a delicate
and lovely black fern arched, ancient and unidentifiable.
They picketed
their horses and one of the Erubites volunteered to stand the first watch. The
two women, who had enthusiastically followed Gabrielle’s notion of dressing in
male clothes, insisted on being assigned a turn at guard, too, as full
participants in the company. Springbuck was surprised, but could think of no
reason not to accommodate them. He and the rest slept immediately, too fatigued
to eat or sleep.
He stood his
hour of guard about noonday, half-drowsing in the heat. He finally arose and
paced about the small encampment in order to stay fully awake. He dashed water
in his face and rubbed Fireheel down with handfuls of grass, feeding him a bit
from a small store of oats he’d brought from Erub. He then cut a green twig
with his parrying dagger and stripped the bark, crushing one end to separate
the fibers, and cleaned his teeth with it, a practice the late Faurbuhl had
enjoined him to follow daily. Once or twice the baby stirred and complained and
her nurse saw to her sleepily.
At length the
shadow of the makeshift time-pole indicated the end of his watch and he
awakened his replacement and sank back gratefully to slumber.
When he awoke,
the sun was sloping toward the horizon once again and he and his companions
made a quick meal of cold meat and bread, washing it down with swigs of water
from a skin filled at the pond. As they saddled their horses he thought to ask
Van Duyn, “Will Gil MacDonald bring back more guns with him?”
“No. He told me
he knew where he could get many, and that he’d be able to bring other weapons
back with him; but I told him that before we introduce more firearms, if
eventually we must, I’d like to see if we can rectify matters here without
them. I did, however, give him a list of books and other source materials we
need.”
Perhaps this
was sensible, but the Prince thought of the Legions of Coramonde under
Strongblade, and would have liked to have had one of those amazing guns.
Gabrielle
looked less distraught than she had last night and even managed an enticing
smile for him. She’d slept the night at her brother’s side and appeared to be
coping well with the shattering disclosure of her parentage.
The Prince
ordered their column and they were all in the saddle and away. At first, the
Tangent was as vacant as it had been the night before. They passed a number of
small villages along the way, which looked to be deserted, but they didn’t stop
to see. The gates of the inns were boarded up, too. When they’d been riding for
some hours in the darkness, the man whom Springbuck had set out at point
returned, telling of the approach of a large body of riders. He had his
companions dismount and move with their horses into the canopied blackness of
the trees at the side of the road. Together they stood, each holding his
horse’s bridle, as a full squadron of heavy cavalry clattered past. Those
troops rode quickly, not as those who search for outlaws or renegades, but as
if on a long and urgent journey. The baby began to cry and the woman holding
her was forced to clasp a hand over its mouth.
The fugitives
regained the road and moved on, traveling as quietly as possible through the
ranks of the brooding forest. Now the point man rode with muffled hooves. Twice
more during the night they were forced to avoid oncoming bodies of soldiery, a
small group of armored knights and, close to dawn, a battalion of foot.
At their last
unscheduled pause Van Duyn whispered, “Odd, all these men on the road at
night.”
Springbuck
sighed. “Strongblade and Fania call their supporters to them at speed,” he said
softly over the dwindling sound of marching buskins. “But they’ll have few
enough from the east, where we’re going. News of Hightower’s death must have
stirred up those parts already. If there’s to be an uprising, its kindling
spark will come from the eastern provinces. Mayhap we ought to take our stand
there.”
Andre said,
“Save the extreme East, no other region in Coramonde will take arms against the
throne for the time being, until we’ve primed them for it. And there are those
in the southwest and northwest who would rejoice to plunder the rich lands near
the Keel of Heaven. We must leave this country and organize puissant aid if
we’re to be of any use to your people, young Heir. We mustn’t let haste make
our hand go astray or spend itself too soon.”
Springbuck
nodded, the gesture lost in the darkness. They were on their way again then,
toward a ripening dawn. As they moved off the road for their second encampment,
the Prince asked Andre, “What can you apprise me of the King of Freegate—called
Reacher, is he not? I know little of him, though I’ve met some of his
emissaries. Yet we hope to ally with him and you have his acquaintance. Tell me
of him.”
To this the
wizard agreed, and so they took the first two watches together, the better to
carry on their conversation and conserve sleep time.
Andre began.
“His name, in the Old Tongue, was given as
Toa-wa-Day,
Lord of the Just
and Sudden Reach. But early on he was nicknamed Reacher, and is called the
Wolf-Brother by some. He’s the descendant of a line of mighty men, but in his
generation a thing unwonted came to pass. Reacher’s father was presented with a
daughter as firstborn. To complicate matters, Reacher was unusually small at
birth, rather than a doughty specimen like his father and grandsires. He was to
serve as proof of the ways in which appearances deceive us.
“Many advisers
and seers counseled the then King to allow Reacher’s older sister Katya to
reign rather than her diminutive brother. Traditionalists opposed any
coparcenary solution and refused to see a woman sit the throne. The case was
not altogether unlike that between you and your… Strongblade, except that in
this case there was a wise King of will and conviction to deal with it; would
that Coramonde had been so lucky!