Khaavren was fighting with sword and poniard, the latter drawn without thinking as soon as his flash-stone was expended, and he made full use of the confusion brought about by the other two; that is, he darted in and out of them, ducked below thrusts to cut up, turned fully around to strike from unexpected angles, laughed in the faces of his enemies, and in this way had brought one opponent to the ground with a cut to the side while inflicting dozens of minor cuts and scratches with which to teach the enemy respect for his blades.
There were, then, nine against three, and all would have been over quickly had the brigands organized themselves rather than getting in each other’s way. In fact, they were attempting to coordinate a rush at the moment when Pel and Tazendra arrived from the other side and attacked them from behind. Being attacked from behind twice in one battle was, it seems, more than they could face, for, after Tazendra had killed one with a crushing blow to the top of his head, they broke in confusion and disorder, leaving the field, as it were, to the five companions and Mica. The Teckla, we should add, seemed, after having delivered his blow, as cool as Aerich himself.
These six worthies, then, looked about them at the dead and wounded and Khaavren said, “Well, I nearly think it is time to continue our journey.”
“The horses,” said Aerich, “are this way.”
Thus, with their first battle behind them, they retrieved their horses, mounted, and made their way safely past the scene of the carnage and continued toward Redface, home of Adron e’Kieron, and refuge, so they believed, of Kathana e’Marish’Chala.
Chapter the Twenty-fourth
In Which it is Shown that Three Copper Pennies,
Well Spent, Are More Valuable
Than Sixty Orbs,
Carelessly Applied
ONE MIGHT SUPPOSE THAT, HAVING arrived at the very doorstep, as it were, of Redface Castle, the remaining few leagues would present little problem, especially as there was a road that ran in that direction. In fact, nothing could be further from the truth. The road, after a short distance, began to divide, and to divide again and then again. It was known by Uttrik, whose home in the Pepperfields had not been far from Bli’aard, that most of the roads spent themselves at farms, quarries, streams, caves, or against blank walls, and a few even ended in pits, or at the top of sudden cliffs. This was one of the means of defense devised by Maalics e’Kieron, who, back in the fifth cycle, had conquered the region and begun construction of the Castle. Uttrik, who was acquainted with the region in general, was no help in this problem.
Nor, we must say, were the populace in any way helpful. Several times the companions asked after directions, and even paid for them, only to have the guide disappear. As their frustration mounted, they increased the payments, and augmented them with threats of various sorts, but to no avail.
“Do you think,” said Uttrik, “that this is the way strangers are always treated in these mountains?”
“Well,” said Khaavren, “you may remember that word has been put out against us. It may be that we are fortunate to avoid an attack by these peasants, rather than merely having lost some sixty orbs.”
“But then,” said Uttrik, “it seems we could wander these mountains for days before finding the correct path, which annoys me, inasmuch as, each time we come to place where there are no trees to block the sky, I can see the walls of the castle as plainly as I see the sky itself.”
“Well,” said Khaavren, “what is your plan, then?”
“We will kill a few of these peasants by hanging them up from trees, and that will make the others respect us.”
“Bah,” said Aerich. “We are visiting Lord Adron, whose vassals these are. He will hardly thank us. And, moreover, we might never emerge from these hills, as the peasants are many, dislike strangers, are leagued against us, and may become violent at any moment.”
“Well then,” said Khaavren, “what is your plan?”
“My plan is to return to the inn, send a message up to the castle, and ask to be guided. We are gentlemen; there is no reason for Lord Adron to refuse us the guide.”
“I can think of one reason,” said Khaavren.
“What is that?”
“That he is not here, but is, as we’ve been told, in Dragaera City.”
“Ah, that is true,” said Aerich, momentarily startled. “I had forgotten this circumstance.”
“Then,” said Tazendra, “listen to my plan.”
“Yes,” said the others, “let us listen to Tazendra’s plan.”
“We will send Mica to investigate, and as he is a peasant himself, the peasants will speak to him, and he will find out.”
“Bah,” said Pel, “he wears your livery, and will thus be recognized.”
“We can remove the livery.”
“That smacks of concealment,” said Aerich, frowning.
“Moreover,” said Pel, “to these mountain people he is still a stranger, and thus will have no better luck than we have had.”
“Very well,” said Khaavren, “what is your plan?”
“My plan is very simple. We will return to the inn, take the innkeeper captive, or, indeed, any of these peasants, and make our captive, on pain of his life, reveal the correct path. Moreover, we will take him with us, on the understanding that his life is forfeit if he guides us wrong. What do you think of this plan?”
“For my part,” said Tazendra, “I am not far from adopting Pel’s idea.”
“Nor am I,” said Uttrik.
Mica, who seemed relieved at any plan which did not require him to remove his livery, maintained a respectful silence, but agreement could be discerned on his features.
“And,” said Aerich, coolly, “if he should believe his duty more important than his life, will you kill him, for the crime of being loyal to his master?”
“Oh,” said Pel, “as to that—”
“And besides,” Aerich continued, “you know how I feel about any adventure that resembles taking hostages.”
“Hostages,” put in Uttrik, “are a legitimate part of warfare.”
“Entirely true,” said Aerich. “But do you pretend that we are at war with Lord Adron?”
“Well,” said Tazendra, “we are not far from it. We have thrown away sixty good silver orbs, which is enough to make me set my teeth hard in my jaw.”
“Nevertheless—” began Aerich.
“But, good Aerich,” began Khaavren, “we cannot wander these mountains forever.”
“There is no need to,” said the Lyorn with a smile.
“And why is that?”
“Because we have not yet heard your plan.”
“What, my plan?”
“Yes, yes,” said Tazendra. “Tell us your plan, Khaavren.”
“You insist I have a plan, then?” said the Tiassa, with a small smile upon his lips.
“It is true,” said Pel, “that you always have a plan.”
Khaavren said, “Well, you’re right, I do.”
“Then,” said Uttrik, “please be good enough to tell us what it is, and, if we like it, we shall adopt it.”
“Well, my plan is that we take this path.”
“This one?” said Tazendra. “Why this one and not any of the others.”
“Because this path, and none of the others, has a dead horse lying along it at a distance of thirty yards from where we stand, and, unless I am mistaken, the saddle of that horse shows that it is from the post.”
“Well?” said Uttrik. “And so?”
“And so, it looks as if the poor beast was ridden to death by a messenger, who was consequently in a hurry. Now, I would think a messenger would know the right path, and, moreover, a messenger in a hurry would be likely to be going to Redface, instead of anywhere else in the accursed mountains. There, what do you think of my plan?”
Uttrik, who had not known Khaavren as long as the others, stared at him in frank amazement. Aerich said, “Your head, my friend, is as long as your sword, and quite as sharp.”
“Well,”
said Tazendra, “let us then take this path at once.”
The castle of Redface, home of His Highness Adron e’Kieron, Dragon Heir to the Throne, Duke of Eastmanswatch, Count of Korio and Sky, etc. etc., remains one of the masterpieces of engineering, ranking with the floating castles of the e’Drien line (of which only Castle Black survives to this day) and possibly with Dzur Mountain, if the mystery behind that strange enclave is ever solved. To begin with, it consists, quite literally, of miles of walls, with irregularly placed towers looking out in all directions. These walls, be it understood, are both thick and high, and, moreover, so perfectly match the shape of the mountain into which they are built that it is as if the mountain itself created them out of its own rock before graciously allowing the progeny of Kieron the Conqueror, oldest and proudest of the Dragon lines, to construct a home therein.
To the south, there is the Redface itself, a drop of more than two thousand feet into the Eastern River, or more exactly, onto the rocks that stick up from the river and cause its treacherous back-currents and white waters. To the west, there is the comparatively gentle slope of Mount Bli’aard leading down to the nearest city, that being Troe, or what was then called Bengloarafurd. To the north the mountain rises a little further, to a string of watch-posts that have been manned by the House of the Dragon for thousands of years, leading off to Mount Kieron, and, further, to the high plateau of Pepperfield, before dropping to the Valley of Salt, beyond which lies the region of Sandyhome. To the east there are the distant peaks of the Ironwall and Whitecrown which lead to the lands of the Easterners.
The castle consists of several large buildings, all connected by a cunning series of tunnels designed to allow supplies to move quickly and easily to any position along the wall, as well as to provide homes for both the Imperial garrison that is always stationed there and the standing army which the Duke, by custom and right, maintains to protect his position. The keep of Lord Redface, as it is sometimes called—that is, if our readers will pardon the confusion, the master of the keep is sometimes called Lord Redface, and thus his dwelling is sometimes called the keep of Lord Redface—this keep, we say, is the tallest of the structures, and located in the center of the maze of courtyards and substructures, built with nine towers, and surrounded by its own series of walls, gates, and watch-stations.
As our friends traveled the road to the castle, Khaavren, Tazendra and Pel were traveling in the front rank, with Aerich and Uttrik bringing up the rear, along with Mica, who appeared to enjoy the conversation of Aerich, consisting as it did of long silences punctuated by short silences. Shortly before arriving at the outer wall, Tazendra suddenly announced to Khaavren and Pel, “I have been wondering again.”
Pel shrugged. “I had thought you had given over such activities.”
“Well, I seem unable to stop myself.”
“It is a sign of intelligence,” sad Khaavren, “to be unable to stop wondering.”
“Is it indeed?” said Tazendra, who was greatly pleased by this thought.
“Entirely.”
“Well, that is good; I had suspected I was intelligent, now I know that I am, and because of it—”
“Well?”
“I will continue to wonder.”
“That is right,” said Khaavren.
“And yet, I should like an answer to the question that has been knocking about my head so insistently.”
“I understand your annoyance,” said Pel, “but I beg you to reconsider.”
“Reconsider?”
“Exactly.”
“Why?”
“Because, if you ask your question, it might be answered.”
“Well, but that is what I want.”
“No,” said Pel, “it is not.”
“How, it is not?”
“Not the least in the world, I assure you.”
“But it seems to me that is just why I want to ask the question.”
“And you are wrong to do so,” said Pel promptly.
“But, will you tell me why?”
“I should be delighted to do so.”
“Then I am listening.”
“Well, here it is: if your question is answered, you will no longer wonder.”
“Well, and then?”
“Why, didn’t you just say that you wished to keep wondering, because wondering is the proof of intelligence?”
“Oh, but there is no worry on that score, Pel.”
“Why not, Tazendra?”
“Because, to anticipate the future as being like the past—”
“Which it often is, I think.”
“Yes, exactly. Well, to anticipate the future as being like the past, I think that after you have answered my question, I will be forced to continue wondering just the same.”
Pel, who could only agree with the extreme justice of this remark, fell silent, and Khaavren said, “Well then, tell us what you are wondering about.”
“I will do so. It is this: what will we do when we have arrived at the castle of Redface?”
“We will ask to speak to Lord Adron,” said Khaavren. “There, you see, you are answered.”
“But, dear Khaavren, it is just as I expected.”
“How?”
“Because it only makes me wonder more.”
“What? You have more to wonder about?”
“I do, indeed. What do you say to that?”
“That I had no idea you were so intelligent.”
“Well, it is true that my second cousin on my mother’s side, Deraff, was a tactician.”
“You say, was?”
“Yes,” said Tazendra, “he was killed in an ambuscade on his first campaign.”
“That is too bad.”
“Yes, I have always thought so. But it shows there is intelligence in my family.”
“Well, I agree with you,” said Khaavren.
“And then,” continued Tazendra, “it seems to me that if one is bandy-legged, or long in the arm, or tall in the body, that often one’s forebears are as well; and therefore, why should not high intelligence also be something that is preserved within a family?”
“I think you are entirely correct,” said Pel.
“You agree?”
“I have said so.”
“Then, I am convinced of my intelligence.”
“Well,” said Khaavren, “of that there can be no more doubt.”
“And yet,” said Pel, “I am anxious to learn what Tazendra now has cause to wonder about.”
“Just this,” she said. “You have explained that we will ask to see Lord Adron.”
“Exactly right,” said Pel.
“But, I had thought that we had just learned, from the conversation which Khaavren and Aerich heard, that he was in Dragaera City, which, you observe, we left some weeks ago.”
“Well,” said Khaavren, “that is true.”
“Then he won’t be there.”
“Well, that is right, too.”
“But that, you perceive, is what I am wondering about: why should we ask for him, knowing, as we do, that he is not there?”
“Because,” said Pel, “it is his home, and therefore, if we are visiting it, it is only proper to ask for him.”
“And yet, if he isn’t home?”
“Then,” said Khaavren, “we shall ask to wait for him.”
“But then, it may be a long wait.”
“In fact,” said Khaavren, “we are hoping it will be.”
“Oh, we are?”
“We are depending upon it.”
“But then, I fail to comprehend.”
“I assure you,” said Khaavren, “I think none the less of your intelligence for that.”
“That is good,” said Tazendra. “And yet, I wonder what we will do, while we are waiting for him?”
“Well, what have we come here to do?”
“I don’t know,” said Tazendra. “I only know that we must find the baroness Kaluma.”
“Who is where?” persisted Khaavren.
r /> “The gods! I think she is at Redface, or we have wasted many weeks of traveling.”
“Well, then, while we are awaiting Lord Adron, we shall be searching for Kathana e’Marish’Chala.”
“Oh,” said Tazendra, her eyes growing wide with wonder. “Now I comprehend.”
“Then,” said Pel, “you must find something else to wonder about.”
“Oh, I will,” said Tazendra. “You may rest easy on that score. Only, there is no hurry, is there?”
“No,” said Pel, “I think you may take your time.”
“That’s good,” said Tazendra.
“Here we are,” said Khaavren, as they came around the last bend in the road and found the west gate was standing with both doors open, creating a break in the wall large enough to admit three coaches side by side without touching in the least. They saluted the guards and rode into the central courtyard, where their horses were taken by servants, after which our friends were admitted into a comfortable antechamber of the Castle Main, where they gave their names and asked to speak with Lord Adron, if it was convenient to him to do so.
The servant bowed and asked them to wait while he inquired. After he had gone, Tazendra said, “Well, about what do you think he has gone to inquire?”
“No doubt,” said Khaavren, “he has gone to inquire as to what to do about those who wish to see his master while his master is not at home. We must, then, beg to be allowed to wait for him.”
“Very well,” said Tazendra. “And while waiting, we will take the opportunity to search for her.”
“Exactly,” said Uttrik, with an expression of relish on his features.
“My dear Uttrik,” said Aerich.
“Well?”
“However this falls out, we will be guests in Lord Adron’s home, and the Baroness is another guest.”
“Well, and?”
“And I trust you will observe etiquette with regard to guests.”
“And yet, she is a criminal, and, moreover, she killed my father.”
“She is a guest,” repeated Aerich laconically.
“Well, and if I should take it into my head to confront her with her actions, and cause her to take responsibility for their consequences?”
“Then we must cross swords.”