“Come!” Grimalkin gestured in the direction of the hubbub. “We are only just in time. Look to the needs of the horses and guard the camp, girl!” she ordered Jenny imperiously.
Jenny opened her mouth to protest. I knew that she’d be as curious as I was to see this Shaiksa assassin. But the witch was in charge here, and moments later I was walking along the river at her heels, while Jenny was left behind.
The farther west we went, the more crowded the bank became, and Grimalkin had to push her way through the throng. They were a motley bunch, armed with blades, spears, or bows. Some wore partial metal armor, mostly stained and rusty, or jerkins of toughened leather. But all reacted in the same way to the forceful advance of Grimalkin.
They turned angrily, death in their eyes. But then they met the eyes of the witch assassin.
Her mouth was open, so maybe it was the sight of her pointed teeth, or perhaps some subtle magic. . . . Whatever it was, they instantly lowered their gaze and turned away, all thought of confrontation forgotten.
Eventually the press of bodies became too dense for us to make any further progress. However, by good fortune we found ourselves on a raised bank and could see over the heads of those who stood between us and the fast-flowing water. The river was shallow here; this was the ford, and the water rushed west, bubbling furiously over the stones.
The human champion waited on this side of the river. He was bareheaded but wore a gleaming metal breastplate and a diagonal sash of purple and gold silk. He carried a short sword and a small round shield.
“He is the champion of the Princeling of Shallotte,” Grimalkin hissed into my ear. “A better class of opponent than Kauspetnd usually faces—although I fear it will make precious little difference to the outcome.”
“You seem to know a lot about the situation here,” I observed.
She nodded. “I’ve made it my business to learn as much as I can—not only about the Kobalos, but also about the human kingdoms that oppose them.”
I looked across the river and got my first view of the assassin waiting on the far bank. His face had the same elongated jaw as the haizda mage back in Chipenden; there was something feral and wolflike about it, especially when he opened his mouth to reveal his sharp teeth. His head was bare, and his hair was braided into three long black pigtails. His arms were also bare, and extremely hairy, like the hide of a beast.
He carried two curved blades, the weapons known as sabers—similar to the one the haizda mage had used against me back in the County.
The pair waded into the river, coming together at the halfway point. There the water just covered their ankles. For a moment they halted and stared at each other as if weighing up the opposition.
Then Kauspetnd shouted something in a loud voice. I couldn’t understand a word of it, but the tone seemed to be mocking. He finished with a braying laugh, which displayed his sharp white teeth.
His human opponent called back to him, and once again I didn’t understand what was said, though anger and defiance were evident. I realized that they had both used Losta, the language shared by the Kobalos and these northern lands.
Then the human rushed forward, his boots splashing in the water, and struck out at the Kobalos warrior.
The assassin deflected the blow with his saber and spun away gracefully, raising it to meet the next attack. Again he parried the blow and spun away. For a moment they faced each other once more, and then the champion of Shallotte launched his third attack.
It was to be his last.
This time, instead of waiting in the same defensive position, Kauspetnd leaped forward to meet his human adversary halfway. One saber flashed, and blood spurted upward. Then the human gave a cry, which was echoed by a groan from those watching on the bank. He fell facedown into the water. Downstream, the turbulent water turned red as it washed his blood away.
26
The Sign
“I’VE seen enough for now,” said Grimalkin. “But I’d like to be a little closer next time.”
As the body of the human champion was dragged away, she led me back to our camp. The sky had been heavy with gray clouds, but now it was breaking up into tattered fragments scattered by the wind and lit to orange flame by the setting sun.
Jenny turned from tending the fire and looked up at me questioningly, but Grimalkin spoke first.
“Go to bed now and get sleep. We need to be up at midnight,” Grimalkin said, looking directly at me. She clearly expected to be obeyed without question.
Anger flickered through me at her presumption. The land and people here were strange to me, and I was forced to defer to her greater knowledge. But she sometimes expected obedience without question, withholding information until she considered the time right to reveal it.
“Aren’t we going to eat first?” asked Jenny.
I sympathized with her. I was hungry too and had been looking forward to supper.
Grimalkin didn’t reply, so I broke the silence.
“Why must we sleep now?” I asked. “What are we going to do at midnight?”
“There’s something you should see. It’s important. After that, we can eat while we talk,” she replied before turning to the girl and smiling. “There will be supper, but it will be a late one.”
Grimalkin always had a good reason for everything she did, so I nodded, swallowed my annoyance, and crawled into the tent first. I was asleep the moment I rolled into my blankets.
When I opened my eyes again and emerged to stare up at the star-filled sky, I estimated that it was close to midnight.
Grimalkin was already waiting outside, Jenny standing beside her.
Without preamble, the witch assassin pointed south, away from the river, and set off at a brisk pace. I looked at the forest of tents on the riverbank and saw lights moving. They were torches; others were walking in the same direction. “Is it safe to leave our possessions unguarded?” I asked.
“I have protected our camp with a spell,” Grimalkin replied, glancing back at me.
Jenny leaned close and whispered in my ear, “Let’s hope the thieves don’t dig under it, then!”
We were crossing flat meadowland, but I could see a hill directly ahead, a dark silhouette against the stars. It wasn’t particularly high, but it stood out from the plain around it. It was almost conical, but flattened at the summit.
As we drew closer, other people pressed in on either side, and we became part of the silent procession. At last we were brought to a complete halt; all we could do was gaze at the hill.
The starlight was bright enough to illuminate the slope facing us. I could see that although the silent gathering had formed a half circle at its base, nobody had set foot on it.
We waited in silence for about five minutes; I knew that it was very close to midnight now. Then three figures began to climb the hill. When they reached the summit, they turned to face us. All three were slim and bearded; they stared out, chins held high, as if their gaze was fixed not upon us but on something higher. They wore gloves and identical robes, their collars trimmed with white animal fur.
The one in the middle cried out in a loud voice. It sounded like a command.
“He told us to kneel and pray,” Grimalkin said.
The people around us began to kneel, and Grimalkin followed suit.
It was astonishing to see her on her knees like that. But if she was prepared to kneel, then so was I; Jenny followed my example. I stared at the hill, where the three figures extended their arms and pointed up to the sky.
“Are they priests?” I whispered into Grimalkin’s ear.
“Not priests of any conventional church. They are holy men called magowie; they are the mages of this land, who claim to see the true reality beyond this world. What we see—the sky, grass, hills, and rocks—is to them just an illusion. They wear gloves because none but a prince or a king may touch their bare hands. Now look at the sky directly above them. What do you see?”
I stared upward. For a moment I could see
nothing, but then I made out against the starry background a point of light—very bright . . . and falling toward us.
It grew steadily larger and brighter. At first it looked like a bird, a dove perhaps, something feathered and white. Then a cry of wonder went up from those around us. I couldn’t understand what all the fuss was about. Why was everyone so excited?
Most birds, apart from corpse fowls, owls, and a few other species, roosted at night. But who knew what was normal in these northern climes? However, judging by the crowd’s reaction, this was something strange and wonderful, something that was worth dragging yourself from your bed at midnight for.
And then a shiver ran the length of my spine. I saw that it was not a bird after all.
This flying creature had a human shape!
“It looks like an angel!” Jenny exclaimed.
Lower and lower it came, until the figure hovered not more than fifty feet above the heads of the three mystics. Completely covered in white feathers but for the head, it had two wings, each at least the length of its body. The face was that of a girl, and it was beautiful, glowing with a silvery light. The limbs were thin, and the enormous wings were rather out of proportion with the body. I had to agree with Jenny: it did look like an angel. It was an astonishing sight—I just didn’t know what to make of it.
Three beams of light were projected from the mysterious flying creature, each of them lighting up one of the three figures below. All three magowie cried out; for what reason I could not tell, but their faces were twisted as if in torment. As one, they fell to their knees, and instantly the creature vanished.
A groan went up from the crowd, which soon became an excited babble. I searched the sky carefully but could detect no sign of movement against the stars. What manner of thing was it that it could vanish like that? Powerful magic was at work here—but who was wielding it?
The central magowie rose unsteadily to his feet, while his companions remained on their knees. He held up his hand until everyone fell silent, then began to speak.
I turned to Grimalkin, who started to translate for my benefit. A burly warrior turned to look at us, but she gave him a withering glare and continued.
“The magowie says that a brave man died today, the champion of Shallotte. He did his duty, but he was not the chosen one. Now the angel has spoken. The one who will prevail against the Shaiksa walks among us! Soon he will declare himself—the moment is almost upon us. Then he will kill Kauspetnd, and before the moon is full he will lead us over the river to victory. Now the magowie bids us return to our beds and gather our strength for the coming battle.”
The three magowie descended from the hill and merged with the crowd. We were forced backward, so we went with the flow and soon found ourselves approaching the camp again.
“How did you know this would happen tonight?” Jenny demanded as she put more wood on the fire and set two rabbits to cook over it.
Grimalkin shrugged. “This has been going on for months. Every week a human champion is defeated and slain. I witnessed it myself on my previous visit here.”
“I’ve seen flying lamias before, but what was that?” I asked.
“It was an angel, as your apprentice suggested. Weren’t you listening to my translation?” Grimalkin asked with a smile.
“Angels are just things out of fables,” I said, shaking my head. Did Grimalkin really believe this? If so, she was going too far. I just couldn’t accept it.
“It flew down from heaven, cast beams of light, filled the three magowie with holy bliss, and then disappeared. Presumably it spoke to those three wise men in some mysterious fashion—perhaps giving them more of a message than they told us. It seemed very much like an angel to me,” Grimalkin said, a hint of mockery in her voice.
I suddenly felt foolish. She was just being facetious. She didn’t believe it was an angel at all.
“Maybe some form of dark magic was being used,” Jenny suggested, turning the rabbits on the spit so that the juices dribbled into the fire and sizzled. The smell made my mouth water. “Perhaps it was an illusion?”
“What does it matter what we believe?” asked Grimalkin. “The important thing is that all gathered around that hill were believers. When someone defeats Kauspetnd, they will accept that victor as their leader and follow him across the river to attack our enemies. It’s exactly what we want. This is why I brought you here, Tom. I need you to fight and kill that assassin!”
27
Prince Stanislaw
“BUT how could I?” I asked, looking at her in astonishment. “I’ve never seen anybody with so much skill with blades—except you.”
Grimalkin was adamant. “He has two weaknesses that I have detected already. I will study him to find more. Then I will train you until your victory is assured.”
“Why don’t you kill him?” I asked. “You could use the Starblade to deflect any magical powers.”
“You need to listen more carefully to what I tell you,” Grimalkin said. She sounded annoyed. “The Starblade works only for you. It will only repel magic directed at you. Not that I need that type of defense to fight that Shaiksa assassin; it is a point of honor with them not to use magic. I could kill him with my own blades, but you must do it. You will use the Starblade in any case because its balance is perfect for you.”
“Why won’t you kill him?”
“My victory would achieve nothing because I am a woman—and a witch to boot. These petty princelings and warlords of the northern border would never follow me. But you are male, and soon we will state your lineage.”
“What do you mean by my lineage?”
“Princelings will never deign to follow a commoner such as you,” Grimalkin said. “Therefore we will have to exaggerate your status. Have no fear—these border kingdoms are far from our homeland. They know nothing of the County here. They will accept you as their leader, even if they do so reluctantly. Then we can use this army to probe the Kobalos defenses, and in the process learn what we can about them.”
“This isn’t what you told me before we traveled north,” I said accusingly. “This was supposed to be a fact-finding mission, not a full-scale military offensive.”
“It would be nothing more than a raid. Later I will explain my objectives,” she replied.
“I still think it would be far easier and more certain for you to fight Kauspetnd. You’re a skilled shape-shifter.”
Grimalkin shook her head. “I do not truly shift my shape, as a lamia witch does. I merely use dark magic to create an illusion of being somebody else.”
“But that illusion would stand up to scrutiny, wouldn’t it . . . ?” Before she could answer, I continued, “I could slip away, and you could assume my shape and fight the assassin.”
“No, we both need to be here. Once you’ve dispatched the assassin, that motley assortment of warlords will challenge you. At the moment they regard the Shaiksa with awe, but once he’s dead, they’ll quickly convince themselves that you’ve been lucky. But you won’t need to fight them too, because I will then be your champion. Their rules permit that, and they will be forced to fight me. I will kill as many as is necessary until they accept you as their leader.”
“Rabbit!” Jenny called out, and began to hand it out.
I took my portion gratefully, wanting for the moment to put Grimalkin’s dangerous plan out of my mind.
Out of sight of Grimalkin, Jenny rolled her eyes at me. She evidently did not like what had been outlined by the witch assassin either.
Once my stomach was full, I became drowsy and could hardly keep my eyes open. We were all fast asleep in our tent within the hour.
But I had a rude awakening.
Grimalkin was shaking my shoulder violently and hissing into my ear, “Wake yourself and dress in these clothes. Make yourself as presentable as possible.” She thrust a pile of folded garments into my hands. “Take five minutes and step outside with your head high. Then look our visitors in the eye and follow my lead. If they bow to you,
merely nod in return. If you do well, nobody will get hurt.”
As soon as she’d gone, I examined the clothes by the light of a candle. The upper garment, an ornate tunic, was made of satin and looked very expensive; the trousers were more suited to the outdoors, but were expertly tailored. Finally there was a thick, warm cloak with a red clasp shaped like a rose. Grimalkin must have had these made in the County and hidden them among her own possessions.
I was still half asleep; the last thing I wanted was to dress up in these strange clothes and pretend to be what I wasn’t. And I was becoming angry too.
Grimalkin had planned for me to fight Kauspetnd all along; she’d arranged everything in detail. She’d had a clear design, and I was a central part of it. I was being used.
After dressing, I tugged on my socks and pushed my feet into my boots. Next I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and dashed some water in my face. Jenny was still lying wrapped in her blankets, sleeping deeply. I envied her.
Finally I took a deep breath and stepped outside.
There were five armed men facing Grimalkin; four were on horseback, one had dismounted. The latter was dressed in expensive armor, with a chain-mail coat that came down to his knees and a metal breastplate in which I could see my own reflection. He was very tall and had a dark moustache that obscured his mouth. His dark eyebrows met in the middle, reminding me of my brother Jack.
Grimalkin spoke to the soldier in Losta. Then she turned, bowed to me, and translated.
“I’ve told him that you are Prince Thomas, the youngest son of the King of Caster.” She gave me a smile. “I thought that was better than admitting you were a farmer’s lad!”
It was only with great difficulty that I prevented my mouth from falling open. The man stared at me hard for a moment, as if measuring me for a coffin, and then he too gave a bow. Remembering Grimalkin’s warning, I responded with the merest nod of my head.
The soldier spoke very quickly, directing his words at me. I couldn’t understand what he said, but I could read his tone and attitude by the flickering of his eyes and the way his heavy brows contorted as he spoke. He began with an air of haughty arrogance, but as his conversation with Grimalkin went on, I detected a note of surprise in his voice.