He would have risen at once from his pallet, but she forbade it, as she also forbade him to speak. First he must drink little but often from a decoction of warm water infused with centaury, melissa, rosehip, and honey. Then, every hour, all throughout the rest of that day and all night long, he must sup a few spoonfuls of thin oatmeal gruel. The next morn, she allowed his squire Valdos to wash his body and dress him in fresh clothes. After dismissing the squire, she herself anointed his limbs and back with a mild monkshood liniment to invigorate the muscles, then felt for the pulse in his neck.
“It’s good and strong,” she pronounced, “but to be safe, we’ll physick you with a modicum of foxglove.” She let fall two drops of liquid from a glass phial into a cup of water and had him drink it down. “Now, Sir Deveron Austrey, Knight Banneret and Royal Intelligencer, you may sit up at last and speak if you wish, for you are very nearly as whole as you were before undertaking your rash experiment with sigil sorcery.”
Snudge’s voice was at first hoarse and weak, but he grinned at her as he said, “You’re a benevolent tyrant, Induna of Barking Sands, but I thank you heartily for healing me. May I ask you some questions?”
She nodded. “And I’ll answer—provided you also respond to mine.”
Gavlok and the armiger Valdos, their faces shining with relief, had been helping as they could during the final hour of Snudge’s treatment and still hovered near. Induna now turned to them with kindly firmness. “Please allow Sir Deveron and me to speak privately.”
Gavlok blushed, for he, like both squires, was already half in love with the winsome shaman. “Certainly, mistress. If you need us, only call.” They went to join Hanan, who was watching the Swordsmen play a game of draughts using stones and squares scratched into the earth.
When they were out of hearing, Deveron’s smile faded. “What have you done with my sigils, Induna?”
“They are safely buried somewhere in this shelter. An important part of your cure involved removing the stones from contact with your bare flesh. However, I’ll be frank: I came here not only to heal you, but also under orders from my grandsire, the shaman Blind Bozuk. He has commanded me to prevent you from apprehending and harming Princess Maudrayne and her son Dyfrig. Duke Feribor Blackhorse has delivered your king’s gold to Bozuk. But the duke has also offered my grandsire an equal additional sum to guide him to Maudrayne.”
“What?” Snudge gaped at her.
“I won’t let you have your sigils back, or allow you or your men to leave this place, until the princess and her child are safe in the hands of the duke. At this moment, he is approaching Skullbone Peel in a great ship. It will arrive before this day ends.”
Snudge was aghast. “Induna, you don’t understand why I’ve come here! I hope to help Maudrayne and the little boy—not harm them. They’ll hardly be safe in the hands of Feribor. Just the opposite!”
She inclined her head, as if this was the response she’d expected. “If that’s true, you must explain everything to me. Everything! For I confess that I’m both perplexed and worried by my grandsire’s actions. I came here from Northkeep thinking only to help him obtain the rich reward that would ensure his comfortable retirement. He’s a rascal, but he loves me in his own way.
However, since my arrival here, the situation has changed drastically. I’m troubled by his new alliance with Duke Feribor, who appears to be a blackguard. Eldpapa may have been too clever by half, agreeing to assist this man. He’s frightened.“
“And well he might be, mistress. Feribor’s only purpose in rescuing Maude and her child is to use them against High King Conrig.”
She gave him a level look. “Who is himself no paragon of virtue—and no good friend to the lady.”
Snudge groaned and lay back against the pack that served as a pillow. “Shall I tell you the whole tale, as I understand it?”
She sat beside him, poured more warm herb tea into his cup, and proffered it. “Please do. Drink this as you speak. It will help your voice. And as you relate the story, be sure to include mention of the great secret cause that you serve, which commands more of your loyalty than does your liege lord Conrig.”
He froze with the cup halfway to his lips. “How do you know of that? I’ve told no one of it!”
She tapped her temple. “One of my talents is that of insight. It’s not mind-reading, but it does reveal to me the bent of a person’s temperament and suggests what things are most dear to him in life.”
“Good God.” Snudge looked at her more intently. “What manner of arch-wizards does Tarn breed? And you’re so young!”
“And so are you,” she retorted, “to use the sorcery of the Coldlight Army when you are but a wild talent and a spy. Tell me all.”
So he did, not knowing why he felt impelled to trust her. It had nothing to do with her empty threats. He knew instinctively that if he called out to his stolen sigils they would respond to him, and he’d find them easily enough. Once they were in hand, this girl’s magical restraints would be impotent against him. His urge to confide in her was motivated by something else, which he did not understand.
He poured it all out: his early years, his unwitting use of his wild talents, his recognition of Conrig’s magical taint and the uneasy relationship they had shared ever since. He told Induna of his fear that the king intended him to kill Maude to eliminate her threat to the Sovereignty, and his knowledge of Feribor’s numerous criminal actions and his craving for a crown. Then he told her about the Source and the New Conflict and his own voluntary enlistment in a battle between inhuman forces.
Last of all, he explained the compromise proposal he intended to put to Maudrayne and to Conrig, in hopes of resolving their antagonism without bloodshed, and how the Source had encouraged him to deal with the princess as best he could.
“And now I must go to her at once,” he concluded, rising again from his pallet and reaching for his boots. “If, as you say, Feribor is shortly to arrive on the scene, there’s no time to waste. Will you try to prevent me, Induna?”
She slowly shook her head. “Nay. For as you told me all of this, my insight sifted through it and concluded that you mean well. Your proposal is a wise one that might succeed… if this lady’s bitterness and ill will are not so strong as to override her good sense.” She paused, then continued almost shyly. “If you think I could help—either by bolstering your shaky strength with my magic or by lending my own support to your words as you beseech the princess—then let me come with you.”
He considered it. “I’ll have to use my sigils again. The one called Concealer, which is a minor stone not demanding much pain from me in its use, will allow me and my men to creep close to the peel unseen, enter through some subterfuge, and slay the guards. You might easily be included within the sigil’s shield of invisibility, which extends for about four ells in each direction as I command. There is no pain inflicted upon my companions, of course. But Concealer’s magic does derive from the Great Lights. Are you willing to compromise your integrity by making use of it, as I do?”
She shrugged. “If necessary. However, I myself am able to move about without being seen through use of my own sorcery. Furthermore, I can easily bewitch the guards at the small fort to open the sallyport for us, then forget what they’ve done. They need not be slain, and my integrity thus remains intact.”
He chuckled, climbing to his feet and offering a hand to assist her rising. “Mistress Induna, I’m glad we’ve decided to be friends, rather than foes.”
She waved that off, deep in thought. “Had you anticipated any magical assaults inside the peel? Shaman-Lord Ontel’s sorcery isn’t very strong, but he has three other magickers attending him who could prove difficult if they scry us. Your Concealer sigil will give protection as we all make our way to the princess’s chambers. But you can hardly put your proposal to her while invisible. And someone might chance to scry you as you converse with her.”
Snudge said, “No one can scry me. This is my unique talent! And so wh
ile the rest of you stay safely hidden, I’ll emerge and present myself to her. If it seems safe, you might also appear.”
“And if she agrees to your proposal?”
Snudge told her what he intended to do then.
“Oh, no!” she cried. “It would be too perilous! There must be another way. Let’s discuss—”
“There is no other way,” he said flatly. “I’ve considered the options long and hard. Maude must survive if God wills and she herself does also. Her son will survive, for I have the Source’s own word on it. But equally important is that no harm come to Conrig Wincantor and his Sovereignty—either through the vengeful princess, through her Tarnian friends, or through the perfidious Feribor. We will do it my way.”
She laid a hand on his upper arm and studied his face with a whimsical frown. “Are you always so stubborn?”
“Others have asked the same question,” Snudge said, “and one of them a king.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Are you ready?“ Snudge asked his men. They were all armed, but the rest of their equipment was to be left behind. Whatever transpired at Skullbone Peel, they would not be returning to the ravine shelter.
“Ready,” they replied, but their doubt and hesitancy were still evident. Lengths of thin leather strapping fastened to their belts linked them together and to their leader like some bizarre Tarnian dog-team hitched to a sled: but the sled—which was Snudge—would draw the team along after him. Two men were to follow on his left and two on his right, the pairs keeping close, while a longer center strap allowed the sixth man to bring up the rear. They had been warned that when Concealer’s spell enveloped them, no man would be able to see the other, nor would he easily know how far distant he was from the boundary of the shielding bubble emanating from their leader’s sigil.
“At first,” Snudge said, “we must move along very slowly until you become accustomed to being invisible. It’ll be difficult. We’ll have bumps and tangles. If one of you somehow becomes separated from the rest and pops into clear view, crouch down, stay utterly still, and give a soft whistle. I’ll bring you back under cover as quickly as I can.”
Hulo Roundbank, the tailman, fingered the strap that attached him to Snudge. “This is a bloody awkward way to travel. And how can we fight, lashed together like this?”
“You won’t,” Snudge told him. “When and if our situation demands violent action, you men must forgo the safety of invisibility. By then, we should be inside the peel and carrying out our plan of attack.” He turned to Induna. “And you, mistress, being the only one of us unencumbered, will scout out the path for us and otherwise serve as advance guard until we reach the gates of the fort.”
She nodded, her lips twitching from a suppressed grin. “I will. And I give fervent thanks that I need not creep through rocks and brush on a leash like you poor lads.” She folded her hands, closed her eyes, and disappeared from their sight. “And now, Sir Deveron, show me how your Concealer works.”
He pulled it from his shirt and gripped it, then spoke the Salkan words. “BI DO FYSINEK. FASH AH.”
Curses and gasps came from unseen mouths. Somebody said, “Swive me! I’m gone!”
“Up the side of the ravine,” Snudge commanded, and they were on their way.
They approached the peel with irritating slowness, hindered by the inadequacy of the exiguous little path, which was severed completely at one point by the collapse of an undercut part of the cliff. The result was a sheer dropoff to the heaving sea, and no easy way to proceed across the gap because of the nature of the shore rocks. They were thus forced to detour inland, picking their way cautiously for two hours through trackless brush, before they were able to turn back in the direction of the shore. They made better time then, hiking down a watercourse that skirted the peel’s partially wooded hill.
The sky was still overcast, but the hard rain had ceased, leaving the air humid and abuzz with hungry midges who were undeterred by invisibility. The men were out of temper and simmering from their constraint, having to halt frequently to restore their disrupted marching order when one or another came to grief. Induna, who ranged ahead freely, was the one who first reached the beach that rimmed Skullbone Cove. She surveyed the little harbor, where only a few small boats were tied up at the docks, and was relieved to see no one about. The long flight of steps leading to the block-shaped peel was still wet, another welcome development. No one inside the fort would see their footprints as they ascended.
Then she thought to scan the hazy northern horizon with her talent, and scried the approaching ship.
Quickly, she dashed back up the stream to the invisible men, who were perceptible from the weird depressions their boots created in the shallow waters. “Stop!” she hissed.
There were splashes and profanities as several of them came up short and collided with one another. Radd Falcontop’s voice grumbled, “I hate this.” Someone else said, “Mind your damned sword, whoever you are.”
“Silence!” Snudge commanded. “What is it, Induna?”
“Feribor’s ship is coming. It might be nine or ten leagues distant. We have a little over an hour to act, if my estimate of its speed is correct. Even though the air is still, my grandsire Bozuk is creating wind to propel the vessel.”
Radd asked, “What manner of ship, mistress?”
“It’s plainly Cathran by its rigging, although it shows no flag. It has three masts and is of a goodly size.”
“And is probably armed with goodly guns,” the Swordsman muttered.
“Let’s get down to the water,” Snudge said. “I need to scry into the fort more closely and see what kind of opposition we might expect.”
They moved on as fast as they could. Snudge paused to fill a spare sock with sand from the beach, then ordered the group to continue to the small quay at the foot of a long flight of stone steps. There he had the other men sit or squat near him, while he concentrated on looking through the stone walls and ironbound oaken doors of the peel that loomed on the knoll above them.
“Can you count the guards, Induna?” he asked softly.
“Oh, yes.” Her tone was tart. “I also can scry through stone, sir knight.”
They took note of four warriors at the main gate and fifteen others posted in other parts of the peel or at work in the armory. Ontel, his three associate magickers, and a man who might have been the captain of the guard were huddled together on the ramparts, staring anxiously out to sea. They’d spotted the ship, too.
“Can we find a way to keep them up there?” Induna wondered. “I see two trapdoors giving access to the roof.”
Snudge said, “Open wooden steps lead from the armory in the southwestern corner of the upper level, and from the adjacent guards’ dormitory in the northwestern corner. The other rooms on that floor, a library and two smaller chambers that may be laboratories used by the resident shamans, give only onto the corridor and main staircase. It may be possible to trap the men on the roof if we act quickly.”
The peel was simply constructed, having three levels and a cellar. On the lowest floor were the gate vestibule and guardroom, the great hall, the kitchen, washrooms, cramped dormitories for the housecarls and maids, and some small offices. The middle floor had a solar, the master sleeping chamber, three other fine bedrooms, and sleeping cubbies for the lord and lady’s bodyservants.
“I see ten or a dozen servitors here and there,” Snudge said, “and two well-dressed older boys in a chamber near the kitchen working at some manner of woodcarving. Perhaps they are part of the shaman’s family. And up in the library is a much younger lad who must be Prince Dyfrig. But the woman with him is not Maudrayne. She has the look of a servant. Where can the princess be?”
“Look to that low annex building at the right of the main keep,” Induna said. “The lady is in the uppermost part of the windmill turret, also watching the ship. But she uses a spyglass, not talent. How beautiful she is! One would know she was once a queen, even though her dress is plain.”
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Snudge oversaw the tall, proud figure crowned with unbound fiery hair. Her gown was unadorned light green linen, but she wore a magnificent necklace of opals mounted in gold. After a moment she set the long brass instrument aside and seated herself. Her lovely face was unreadable, but she would surely know that the ship was Cathran. Did she speculate that rescuers might be aboard—or would she make a more realistic judgment and think that Con-rig’s agents had found her at last, and she and her son had not long to live?…
“Comrades,” Snudge said, “the presence of the ship, and the fact that the princess and her son are so widely separated, complicates our mission. The little prince is in a room close to the armory, where at least eight guards are at work, and Ontel and his shamans are also very near to the boy. I had hoped to avoid fighting, but now it may be inevitable. This is what we’re going to do.”
Once Induna’s compulsion had forced the four guards at the gate to open the sallyport, Snudge and his men, come out from Concealer’s spell and, freed of their hated straps, made short work of the ensorcelled defenders. The four stood silent and as docile as lambs while being bound, gagged, and stripped of their livery and armor. The captives were then consigned to a dark nook in the guardroom while Gavlok, Hanan, Radd, and Hulo assumed their identities. Valdos had to wait briefly while invisible Induna sought out and bewitched a household lackey of appropriate build, then conducted him to the guardhouse. This fellow’s garb provided a suitable disguise for the task assigned to Snudge’s squire.
While his men were changing their clothes, Snudge took Induna aside. “I’d be more easy in my mind if you’d accompany me to Princess Maude’s turret, rather than sharing the more perilous work.”
“I might be sorely needed,” she said, “if Ontel or one of his magickers comes down from the roof before the steps can be destroyed, or if a melee ensues. And I can protect little Prince Dyfrig better than your men can.”