"I promise much. In any case we have no choice, my friend. This is no time for hesitation." He nodded toward the swamp. " 'Tis a wonder that even bog plants can grow in such a place. It smells of death."
"Power and death are cousins," Ynyr offered. "They have much in common."
"Not to me they don't." Torquil found the analogy displeasing. "I don't much like your relatives, old man."
"As the gentleman has pointed out," the seer murmured, "we waste the daylight." Steadying himself with Titch he started confidently forward into the swamp. Muck sucked at his boots and leggings but did not drag him down. Colwyn and Ynyr followed while Ergo boldly preceded the disgruntled but resigned thieves.
At least it wasn't raining, Colwyn thought. They were not as miserable as they might have been. He recalled the last time they'd traversed such a place and wondered if similar thoughts had occurred to Torquil. If so, they did not show on the bandit chief's face. Colwyn lengthened his stride until he was walking alongside the boy. Titch watched the ground carefully, leading the seer by the hand.
"Is this the only route?"
Titch nodded. "The only one I was taught, sir."
"There is only the one way," the seer added. "If we deviate from it even slightly, we will find ourselves swallowed by the quicksands that abound here. What troubles you about our path?"
"I dislike traveling any terrain where the air itself gives cover to potential assailants." He nodded toward the lake off to their left. "Follow the shoreline as closely as possible, boy. That way we'll only have to watch one side."
"I will try to do so, sir."
"Awkward country." Colwyn unconsciously fingered the hilt of his sword. "Not even a safe line of retreat. Keep a sharp lookout. If we can penetrate this swamp, so can our enemies."
"The same thought had already occurred to me. I have already warned the others to be on the alert," said Torquil.
Colwyn clapped him on the back and moved down the line to chat with the rest of his men, reassuring himself even as he reassured them.
Ergo slipped an errant gooseberry, one of several he had acquired earlier, from one pocket and popped it quickly into his mouth . . . but not quite quickly enough.
"I smell gooseberries," said Titch excitedly. He hesitated, sniffing the moist air, then glanced wide-eyed at Ergo.
"Ah well, share and share alike. It seems I've found some I'd forgotten, just in time to part with them. Your nose is as big as your eyes, boy."
"The seer says that a man should not be guided by any one sense but should learn to utilize all at his command. He says that in this way we may better master our surroundings."
"Even to including gooseberries, it would seem." Ergo fished through one voluminous pocket, brought out one last handful, and passed them to the boy.
"Thank you, magnificence!"
His master has taught him courtesy, Ergo mused. Not to mention the ability to estimate the stature of those around him.
"Don't mention it."
The boy was downing them one at a time, luxuriating over the flavor and texture of each individual berry. "Truly you are a wizard fit to consort with my master. Only one of true ability could conjure up treats like this."
Yes, most courteous and perceptive, Ergo decided as he fumbled through another pocket. "Here, boy," he said magnanimously, "have a few more. Now, tell me that about my ability again?"
Torquil kept silent until Colwyn had concluded his inspection and returned to the forefront of the troupe. Then the bandit leader slowed his walk until he fell in next to Kegan. He reached into a pocket, withdrew a small cloth pouch.
"If you want to see the profit of this journey, take a look in this."
Kegan eyed him uncertainly for a moment, then took the pouch. He extracted a handful of rocks. Dull, gray, featureless pebbles. Crystals of sand and mica and feldspar. He stared intently at them, thinking he might be missing something, before returning his gaze to his chief.
"They're worth a fortune," Torquil was whispering, his gaze still on Colwyn. "And I memorized the location well. Plenty of time after we finish with this business to return and gather up all we can carry. The smallest alone's worth a king's ransom."
"Maybe," replied Kegan dryly, "to someone who's very nearsighted, or heir to a very poor kingdom."
"What? What are you blathering . . .?" He gaped at Kegan's open palm. "Where did you get those rocks?"
"From your pouch full of profit."
"That's not possible! I took only the finest—" He broke off as he dug into his other pockets, pulling out handfuls of narrow gray stones. No green light burned in their depths, no promise of the easy life shone from glassy surfaces. Numb, he let them fall to the ground. The only light they threw back at him came from bits of quartz embedded in the matrix.
Kegan was shaking his head, his voice pitying. "Poor Torquil, once the finest thief on the north continent, now reduced to this. Remind me to steal you some reading glasses."
Torquil tore his gaze from the place where he'd dropped the worthless rocks and all but snarled at his companion. "I swear to you, they were emeralds. Emeralds the size of a man's hand!"
"The size of a man's dreams, maybe." Kegan strode out in front, still shaking his head.
"Perhaps the wealth was in your heart and not in the stones."
Torquil looked around sharply. "What? Who said that?" He tried to see who'd spoken but could not. The seer was too far ahead for the bandit to notice the old man's faint smile.
The lake on their left seemed as big as the swamp itself, and Colwyn was grateful for the way it shielded their exposed flank. They were able to concentrate ahead and to their right. All save Torquil, that is. He spent his time staring at the ground and muttering to himself, his brow occasionally twisting with the strain of confused thoughts.
Only one member of the party really let his eyes wander: Ergo the Magnificent. After all, it was hardly his place to one were inclined to more culturally elevating pursuits such as inspecting passing bushes for their gooseberry content.
Irony has a way of bestowing responsibilities, however, and it was his roving gaze that happened to fix on the supposedly secure left flank, just as clawed, alien shapes began silently rising from the water, dripping green scum and camouflaging moss. If not for Ergo's wandering eye, the surprise might have been total.
As it was, his fright was strong enough to stifle the first cries of alarm in his throat. It took his vocal cords another precious minute to engage.
"SLAYERS!"
The little procession whirled. Colwyn spotted the emerging assailants first. "There, from the lake! Torquil, get the wise men to safety!" Sword drawn and ready, the bandit leader hurried to comply.
"Oswyn, Darro, you heard the king!" The two men rushed to escort the elderly noncombatants out of range while the rest engaged the Slayers.
Even as the seer and Ynyr were being hustled back down the trail, other Slayers were materializing to block any retreat. A single spear transfixed the unfortunate Darro, who never saw his killer. A bolt of energy sped straight at Titch. Moving like the whirlwind he occasionally became, Ergo leaped forward and knocked the boy to the ground. Later he would swear that the bolt cursed as it exploded over their heads.
The pair of Slayers pressed Oswyn hard as they attempted to reach the seer, but he kept them off until help arrived in the form of Colwyn and Torquil. The Slayers were large and powerful, but slow to react. In combat with men they relied for success on numbers and their strange energy weapons. In close quarters the two were no match for the tough escapees.
No one saw a third Slayer rise slowly from the bog on the opposite side of the trail to aim his spear at Ynyr's back. The blast of energy never reached its intended target. It fell from the hand that had gripped it as a trident of peculiar design pierced the Slayer's neck.
Other Slayers continued to rise from the lake, but with the element of surprise now fled, they were evenly matched against Torquil's band. Men fighting for freedom always
fight harder than those fighting as slaves, and now they confirmed Colwyn's decision to enlist them in his cause.
Soon the murky surface of the lake was clean once more and the air smelled of destroyed Slayers. Colwyn walked over to join Torquil, who was cleaning his muddy ax on a legging.
"How many did we lose? I was too busy to see."
"Only Darro."
Colwyn turned to the now quiescent lake. "I'm sorry. I knew him but briefly. He struck me as a good man unjustly wronged."
"A very good man." Torquil's tone was somber. "Made a pariah and an outlaw for daring to love the daughter of a powerful nobleman."
"Did she love him back?"
"So Darro always insisted, no matter how hard we teased him about it."
"Then surely there was no crime in it," Colwyn said. "When this is over I will make certain that his name is expunged from any criminal records where it appears, and that his family is told in whose service and how well he sold his life."
"Darro would've liked that. Few men choose crime for a profession. It always seems to choose them."
"I know how the fates can set one on a path he never imagined, nor even wishes for himself. What of you, friend Torquil? What troubles placed you on this sorry path?"
"Another time, Colwyn, mayhap I'll tell you you." He gestured up the trail. "For the moment, it seems we have lost one man only to find another to take his place."
Colwyn followed his pointing finger. "One, I see, who may be worth more than any three, though 'tis no man who stands before us."
They approached the newcomer. His recovered trident in hand, the cyclops stood between Ergo and Titch, towering over them. His single eye regarded them benignly.
Ergo was forced to lean back in order to see the disconcerting face of their rescuer. "This is the second time you've saved my life. I admit to feeling some apprehension the first time our paths crossed."
"That is quite understandable." There was nothing but gentleness in the Cyclops's voice. "My appearance is upsetting to most men, something which I regret but refuse to apologize for, as I am not responsible for it."
"I am Ergo." He extended a welcoming hand, saw it vanish in the vast but easy grip.
"The Magnificent, if I am not mistaken?"
Ergo tried to hide his annoyance. "He appears to have compensated for the loss of an eye by developing a talent for eavesdropping," he muttered to Titch. "Doesn't he have a name? But why do I ask you? So terrifying a vision would obviously send a child such as yourself fleeing in terror at its mere sight."
"Not really," said Titch apologetically. "His name is Rell. I've met him before." The cyclops smiled down at the boy. "He visits the seer sometimes. He doesn't talk much and when he and my master converse they use words that are beyond me. He lets my master do most of the talking. I don't think he likes to talk."
"So I've noticed. Except to be sarcastic to those who wish to be friends."
"Or to talk with those who already are friends," the cyclops commented.
Ergo was still reluctant to forgive the slight. "My name is not for jesting with, beanpole. It's all very well and good to have a short name when you're twelve feet tall, but small people need large names to give them weight."
"Your actions give you more weight than any name could, my sensitive friend," the giant told him somberly. "I saw you save the boy from the spear. That was worth a hundred noble titles. I've seen many noble men turn tail and flee when confronted with such a choice. He who takes the risk to save another honors his name in deed far more than can be done by any combination of letters."
Embarrassment was a posture Ergo rarely suffered from, but it made him turn away now. "Well, there's no need to make a fuss over it. It was easy. No spear was coming at me. Besides, it's what friends are supposed to do for one another."
"Exactly so," said the cyclops. "Don't try to shrug it off. Your heroism is much more real than your affected magnificence."
"What do you mean 'affected'?" Ergo demanded to know, back on emotionally comfortable ground again.
The cyclops sighed. "Never have I met a man so intent on avoiding a well-deserved compliment. Do not think to avoid it so easily, my friend. What I can see, I see clearly and without distortion."
Colwyn arrived in time to cut off Ergo's ready rejoinder.
"Ah," said the cyclops, "so this is the man who claims to be king of more than a kingdom." He studied the new arrival carefully. "What's wrong, man? Are you not content with one kingdom that you must lay claim to more?"
"I did not choose this course of action, one-eye. It was thrust upon me by circumstance."
"Ah, circumstance," the cyclops mused aloud. "I could tell you much about circumstance, young king."
"I hope that I may have the opportunity to listen," Colwyn nodded toward Ergo. "You've been paralleling our course for some time now. Shadowing our companion here."
Ergo puffed up like a toad-frog. "It's only natural he would be attracted to an obviously superior type."
"Not to mention one with a propensity for wandering off on his own and drawing the attention of marauding Slayers," Colwyn reminded him.
"It's true I have been following you," the cyclops admitted. "I would still be keeping my own company if not for the need to aid His Magnificence on several occasions." Both waited for a response from Ergo but that worthy wisely elected to hold his peace this time.
The cyclops nodded across to where Ynyr was conversing softly with the seer. "When I learned that the old one had come down off his mountain I knew that the time had come."
"Time for what?" Colwyn asked curiously.
"The time for decision-making. It's something the seer and I talked of on many occasions. Being wise, he was not intimidated by my size and since he is blind, I was not intimidated by his knowledge. We got along well."
"I can see why, for though your appearance may be fearsome to many, I find your openness and perceptivity appealing. There is no need to keep to the bush and rocks. Travel with us, instead of alongside us. All men need company."
The cyclops smiled broadly. "Yes. All men. I think that you will make a good king, Colwyn. If you live." He turned and walked off to inspect the lakeshore.
Colwyn beckoned to Torquil. "What do you think of our new ally?"
"He's agreed to join us, then?"
"It seems he'd already done so, though for reasons of his own he chose not to announce it until now. I've invited him to share our company as well as our purpose."
Torquil looked to where the cyclops was probing the water with his huge trident. "I'm glad you did so. He'll be a fit replacement for poor Darro, and in any fight he'll be worth half a dozen men. His kind hates the Slayers, and if there are any spoils to be taken he'll not demand a share. A better fighting companion would be hard to imagine."
"I'm glad you approve." Colwyn watched the cyclops at his work. "Though I'm not sure your opinion of him matters any more than does mine."
"How do you mean?"
"He'd already decided he was going to join us. Come. Let's get out of this place and hope there are no more ambushes waiting for us. I'm as anxious as any man to breathe clean air again."
VII
Though she ran down endless corridors, she had no way of marking the passage of time. She did not grow hungry, and nervousness alone kept her from collapsing from fatigue. That, and a determination to run until she was stopped.
She wished for the rats that would normally infest such a place, but this was no ordinary fortress. Even common vermin shunned its peculiar tunnels and passages.
Then the gown and robe appeared before her again, its glowing crown a floating promise of an awful, unimaginable destiny.
"Why have I been brought here?" she asked.
And she heard the voice of the Beast, not as an echoing roar that filled the corridors, but as words, carried to her in a tone of sly confidence.
"For a ceremony."
"What kind of ceremony?"
"Do you not recognize
before you a gown such as no woman has ever seen of dreamed of? Do you not recognize the crown that can only be worn by a queen wedded to He Who Commands? You have been brought here for a wedding."
She was too frightened to scream. She turned to retreat back the way she'd come, but a white Slayer stood there, impassively threatening. With a weak cry she turned and stumbled off still deeper into the maze . . .
It was strange to find such an extensive strip of dry land in the middle of the Great Swamp, but the narrow bridge of earth and gravel was a welcome sight to the marchers. They'd been straining their eyes on the faint path ever since they'd entered the Great Swamp lest they step out on a surface that might suddenly disappear. It was a relief to stride, however briefly, on land that did not swallow a man's ankles.
Titch had fallen back, leaving the uncomplaining seer to walk with Ergo to guide him. The boy was drawn to the cyclops. Now he rode atop the giant's shoulders. In addition to being fun, it provided him with the best vantage point of all.
"That way," he would announce from time to time, and the group would obediently alter direction to comply with his directions.
"What's it like being able to see out of only one eye?" he asked innocently.
"Never having had the pleasure of looking at the world out of two, I cannot say for sure," the cyclops replied thoughtfully, "but from my occasional conversations with two-eyed men, I gather it's something like squinting all the time. I cannot see as widely, but what I do see I see with great clarity. Close one eye of your own and you will see what I mean."
The boy complied. "That's not so bad."
"There are worse infirmities a man can suffer. Better one eye lost than an arm or leg."
"If it was in my power to do so I'd give you the other one back," Titch told him solemnly.
"I know you would, boy. My people made a bad bargain with the Slayers' master. Perhaps someday we will have a chance to start anew. I will not see that day, but I can hope that it comes to children born of one-eyed mothers."
Ergo waited until the conversation lagged before commenting. "If I had my wish I'd be out of this miserable place right now. And if I really had a wish I'd be sitting on top of a gooseberry trifle the size of a mountain."