The King did not move or speak for a few minutes, and Stafgrym anxiously rubbed his hands together.
"Don't you see?" Stafgrym whispered again.
Suddenly the King's head came up, and as he looked at Stafgrym, there was a wild, furious spark in his eyes. "Yes," he grated, "I see, you conniving, mercenary, slinking creature of lies and filth! "
Stafgrym blinked, speechless.
"But have no fear," the King went on bitterly. "I am too deep in your sticky coil, and I haven't the courage to stand up and, come what may, declare my beliefs. By all means go to Cymyl. Bring Kaela back—dead or alive; I am past caring. But now, get out of my sight!"
The King's rage was so fearsome that Stafgrym left without even his customary, obsequious bow.
As the door closed behind Stafgrym, a wild look came into the King's eyes. With a strangled cry of rage, he snatched up a vase of red roses. Furiously, he tore the flowers to pieces, then flung the vase against the stone fireplace. It shattered. With an angry movement, he swept the flowers' torn petals off the table to lie among the bright splinters of glass like drops of blood.
***
Stafgrym rode hard, changing horses frequently but barely stopping to sleep or eat. He took the King's Toll Road, for the way was short and the road good. Even so, for all his pressing need, he did not arrive at the baron's castle until the rainy morning of the fourth day.
Curiously enough, when Stafgrym rode his weary beast up to the front gate, there was no one about except the red-haired young lady he recognized from the globe's images. She was dressed in a long, rain-darkened cloak, and carried a basket of mist-brushed wild flowers. Alyi saw him and walked toward him, not without suspicion, for Kaela had told her of the sorcerer on their trail.
"Hail, fair lady," Stafgrym called.
"Greetings, sir," she replied, curtseying. "Is there anything I can do for you? Come in out of the rain, at least, for you look to have been riding long and hard."
"Why thank you, most gracious lady," he said, dismounting and handing his reins to the groom their voices had summoned.
"I will present you to my father," Alyi said formally, "the baron of Marachor. What is your name, sir, and your errand, if I may be bold enough to ask?"
Stafgrym smiled without warmth or humor. "My business and name are for your esteemed father's ears, noble lady."
She bowed her head demurely and ushered him into one of the small, fire-lit sitting rooms near the great hall.
"Forgive me for prying," she murmured. "My father chides me often for my forwardness. I will do my best to find him speedily."
He bowed and she curtseyed, closing the door behind her. Then, before she went to find her father, she took a key from her pocket and turned it noiselessly in the well-oiled lock.
The baron was in conference with several of his tenants when Alyi interrupted. She smiled sweetly at the men and apologized before crossing to her father and speaking in his ear. The baron scowled, then turned to his tenants.
"I am sorry to put you off, gentlemen, but something extraordinary has come up that I must see to immediately. If you'd care to wait, it may not take long; but if you need to get back to your lands and work, then do so and we'll meet again as soon as is convenient for you." He bowed and left the room with his daughter.
"Alyi, are you certain this man is the wizard your Kaela spoke of?" he asked her.
"Well," she replied, "I can't be positive, but I feel it, Papa."
The baron nodded. "Then I shall go and deal with him. Where did you put him?"
"In the red sitting room. May I come, Papa?"
"No. This fellow may be unpleasant and I wouldn't want anything to harm you."
"Very well," said Alyi, sadly. "I shall go arrange my flowers. Here," she gave him the key. "I locked the door." She watched him go. "Be careful, Papa."
But he had started down the hall and did not hear her.
When the baron reached the red sitting room, he unlocked the door and went in. The wizard was standing next to the fire, warming his hands. As the baron entered, closing the door behind him, Stafgrym looked toward him as if to be certain he was alone.
"What may I do for you, sir?" the baron began, politely but with a faint sign of irritation.
"I am Master Stafgrym, an agent for the king of Visin. I am looking for the Princess Kaela. Have you seen her?" The baron shook his head. "No, and I've had my eyes open since the messengers came through a week or more ago." He sighed. "Treason: a bad business."
"Oh dear," said Stafgrym, almost apologetically. "You see, it seems the King has had a change of heart. He'd forgive her, if I could bring her back right away; but there are others on her trail who don't know this, and, well, in a fit of passion he said 'dead or alive' and, well—I'm afraid for her. You're sure?"
"Quite sure," the baron said firmly.
Stafgrym turned away. "Oh dear," he began, then suddenly he whirled about, arms extended and cried out some words in a strange tongue. Fire glowed on his fingertips and sparks flew at the baron, who groaned and struggled fiercely to break away. His hands were on the doorknob and he was trying to pull the door open when his eyes closed and he slumped to the floor.
"Answer," said the wizard softly. "Was the Princess Kaela here?"
As if from a long way off, the baron's voice replied, "Yes."
"Did she have a companion?"
Again, in that odd voice the baron answered, "Yes."
"Are they still here?"
"No."
"When did they depart?"
"Yesterday morning," said the baron, dully.
"And where were they bound?"
"Tychat."
"Good," said Stafgrym. "Remember only this: I am Stafgrym; you told me that persons resembling the descriptions I gave had left, two days since, heading for Amstri in Fytria. Now, you will wake at my command and order a swift mount for me. Awaken!"
The baron's eyes opened. "Very good, then, Master Stafgrym. I shall be happy to help you. Take this—" he hastily scribbled a note, "—to the head groom. He'll give you a swift mount to speed you on your way."
Stafgrym bowed humbly. "Many thanks, most generous lord baron." Then Stafgrym made for the stables. Soon, mounted on a steed like the wind itself, the wizard was galloping, heedless of the mud, down the road to Tychat.
***
When the King arrived at the afternoon Council meeting, he was late. He entered, his hair disheveled, his robes rumpled and his crown askew. There was something wild in his eyes and his movements. Standing just within the doorway, he looked around mockingly at the seven councilors and then laughed.
"It is too fine an afternoon to waste on matters of state and policy. Let them wait till it rains. We shall go hunting!"
The lords of the Council looked at one another in bewilderment. There was a savageness in the King they did not understand nor like. The chief councilor protested feebly.
"But Sire," he quavered, "these matters are important—"
The King turned on him fiercely. "You will do as I say!" he shouted. "You will all do as I say, or I shall have you killed. I want to go hunting; therefore, hunting we shall go!" He laughed shrilly.
There was a stricken silence. The King looked about at them all, then smiled, a parody of kindly concern.
"You all think I am mad," he said quietly. "I am not mad. Why, I've never felt better in my life. But I promised my Talira we should have venison for the evening meal, and surely you see I mustn't disappoint my queen?"
The councilors all looked helplessly at each other, afraid; for surely the King was mad if he spoke of Talira. The queen's name had not been spoken in the palace since her death. Finally, the junior councilor spoke.
"Very well, Sire," he said, doubtfully. "We shall hunt."
The King beamed like a child given a sweet. "Good man, Sarget. You are my new chief councilor. As for the rest of you—" he growled, "I am not pleased. You will have to redeem yourselves at the hunt." He took Lord Sarget's arm.
"You will ride Puma to show everyone that you are high in my favor."
It was an odd procession, the seven reluctant Council lords and the king. Many of the castle people looked on in puzzlement. When they reached the stables, old Konal greeted them, courteously but warily.
"And what—" he began, but the King interrupted him.
"Saddle Puma for my friend," he commanded, indicating Lord Sarget, "and Rogue for me. As for them," he shrugged. "Whatever nags you please."
"Puma and—Red?" asked Konal.
"No, churl!" he shrieked. "Rogue! The black one!"
"But Sire," the groom protested. "Rogue is not safe. He has his name for a reason."
The King drew himself up and stated loftily, "He will obey his King. And so should you," he added, sharply, "if you don't want to be food for the ravens!"
Konal disappeared within.
It was a few minutes before the grooms led out the horses: Puma, six other well-mannered animals, and Rogue, an enormous night black stallion with the same wild look in his eyes as was in the King's. It took three grown men to hold and lead the great beast.
The King mounted and waved the stable hands away. It seemed then that the King had been right, for the animal quieted beneath him. But old Konal was not reassured.
"Run to the kennels," the King said, "and fetch the hounds. We are going hunting."
As if the words were a signal, Rogue threw his great head, trumpeted his challenge to the sky and took off at a gallop. The other lords made chase, hoping to ring in the runaway before any evil befell; but the sounds of other hooves merely spurred Rogue on, and none of them could get near to him. Konal watched them for an instant, horror in his eyes.
"Dear God in heaven," he whispered. "Death Jump!"
Though he rode on the back of a storm, the King seemed to feel no fear as they drew near Death Jump. The jump was a high stone wall with a brook on the far side and a tree by the brook. One of the branches overhung the brook at such a height as would catch all but the shortest, or most careful, riders in the chest or head as the horse came over, sweeping them off the animals' backs to fall against the wall or onto the sharp rocks in the brook. It was a place famous among boys as a test of honor and courage, though many such dares had ended with grave injury. The King rode toward it undaunted, waving his fist in the air and shouting incoherent challenges.
"No, Sire!" Lord Sarget bellowed. "Don't let Rogue jump!" The young man urged Puma forward, but he knew it was no use. "Don't jump!" he shouted again.
As if the words had shaken something in the King, he looked over his shoulder at the man.
"Don't jump, Sire!" Lord Sarget repeated. "You'll be killed!"
As Rogue gathered himself for the jump, Sarget's words reached the King. He pulled hard on the reins to swerve the beast at the last possible instant. But the Rogue took the bit in his teeth and paid no heed. He leapt.
It seemed to Lord Sarget that the world held its breath. Then, there was a thud and a man's cry.
The former chief councilor had caught up with the younger man. Lord Sarget turned to him, his face stricken.
"The King," he gasped. "Oh my God, the King."
They found the King on his back on the near bank of the stream. His eyes were open but he did not seem to see them. His hands opened and closed and he was trying to speak.
"My daughter," he croaked at last. "Send for my daughter."
Melina, summoned by the chief councilor, knelt beside her father and took his hand. There were tears on her face. "I'm here, father."
"Melina," he murmured. "But where is Kaela? Kaela!" he called.
"She's in Cymyl, father," Melina said gently.
"I—I sent her away, didn't I? She went—because of me.
"Yes."
"I didn't mean it, Melina! I didn't. I didn't mean any of it," he said urgently. "Tell Kaela—Ask Kaela —"
"That you forgive her?" Melina whispered gently.
"No. No. Ask her to forgive me. I've been a brute to her. Tell her I'm sorry."
"I will, Father."
He smiled and seemed to relax a little. "And tell Tamera—"
"Yes?"
"Tell her that I love her."
"Yes, Father."
"And you, too. And Kaela. Don't forget, Melina."
"No, Father. I promise."
"I'm dying, Melina."
She nodded, but could not speak.
"I have a great deal to atone for."
"No," she said.
"Yes," he contradicted her firmly. "I've been harsh to all of you; I've hurt all the people I love, even Talira—Talira most of all. But I shall be with her soon. Farewell, Melina."
He closed his eyes and his hands stopped their frenzied working. Suddenly, the peaceful attitude changed and he tried to cry out. "Stafgrym," he gasped. "I told—must stop—Stafgrym! Oh, Kaela!" he cried. "Kaela, forgive me!" Then he lay still.
Melina folded her father's hands on his breast and brushing the tears from her eyes rose to her feet. She looked pale and wan, but even so, her carriage was regal.
Looking at her, Lord Sarget murmured, "The king is dead. Long live the queen."
"Take him to the chapel," Melina said to her people. "And you, lad, go to the dungeons and tell the guards to release Princess Tamera and Nansa, then find Lord Talmot and send him to me in the—the east parlor, please."
The boy bowed and started off, while Melina followed the solemn procession back to the castle.
***
The flags of mourning had just been raised above the castle, the town criers had barely begun telling the news, and only a few of the best-informed courtiers were arrayed in black when Lord Talmot left the stables at a furious pace. He was bound for the barges, and Tychat. His orders were simple: he was to bear the news of the King's death and to enlist the aid of Cymyl in finding Kaela. He must find her before the wizard Stafgrym did.
Chapter Eleven
Dusk was seeping in at the windows as Kippen led Kaela through the winding corridors toward the great hall where meals were served. Strangely, there was no one about in the halls, and everywhere there was a quiet that to Kaela seemed ominous. She clutched Kippen's arm tighter than necessary and bit her tongue to vanquish her fear, or at least to keep her teeth from chattering.
"Kaela, what is the matter?" Kippen asked at last, in a whisper, as if unwilling to disturb the brooding hush.
"I'm afraid, Kippen," she replied. "Didn't you see Stafgryrn in the marketplace?"
"Well, yes. But he didn't see us."
"Yes, he did," she contradicted miserably. "He was watching us when the princess's ladies took us into the palace."
"But be reasonable, Kaela," said Kippen, trying to sound careless, but still whispering. "What could he possibly do in a palace full of people, supposing he could even get in?"
"Plenty," she responded bitterly. "Remember, there's the small matter of high treason between me and my father. Who here would dare to protect me and risk war?"
Kippen smiled at her tenderly, earnestly. "I would, Kaela."
She smiled back. "Don't be angry, but I'm not greatly reassured."
Suddenly, they rounded a corner and found themselves standing in the doorway of the great hall. The long tables, covered with white linen cloths, were set with ornate candlesticks of gold for the high table, silver for the gentry and plain pewter for those below the salt. The brightly burning candles cast shadows into the doorways and against the walls; it seemed the place for merriment and bustling. Instead, the people sat or stood, silent, tense, as if waiting for some pronouncement of doom.
Kaela looked questioningly and fearfully at Kippen, but he shook his head.
"I don't understand it," he whispered. "What is wrong with everyone?"
Even though his voice was a whisper, it was enough sound in the silence to draw attention to them. People turned and glared at the two figures standing just within the rim of candlelight.
"Princess Kaela!" a familiar voice rang in the hall,
just as Kaela realized the reason for the anxious silence: a messenger garbed all in black. It was he who had spoken: Lord Talmot. "Princess!" he repeated, striding toward her. "Thank God!"
She started to flee, but Talmot caught her arm. "There is no need to fear, princess," he said gently. "Your father forgave you—or rather, he asked that you forgive him."
Kaela recovered her wits and her temper flared. "That doesn't sound like Father at all," she whispered angrily. "Surely you don't expect me to believe that, though I must admit, Talmot, that I didn't think he could buy you."
"Kaela," the man said softly. "Your father is dead. He asked for your forgiveness; it was one of his last words."
"Dead?" she repeated blankly. "How—? Why—? No. I don't believe it! Dead?"
Lord Talmot shook her gently. "Kaela, it is true. He was killed by Rogue. And he did ask your forgiveness. I swear it, princess."
Kaela bowed her head. "I can't believe it," she murmured, a catch in her voice. "You swear it?" she added, looking up at him. He nodded and she looked away. Then everything within her froze. Across the hall at one of the other doors, standing barely within the reach of the light, was Stafgrym. He was watching her mockingly, triumphantly. He raised his hands slowly. Evil flames glimmered on his fingertips. She could neither move nor cry out. Like a bird before a snake, she stood and awaited death.
"Kaela?" Kippen asked. He followed her gaze. When he saw the wizard, he exploded into action. He took three steps forward and snatched up one of the huge, polished silver trays from the table. The glassware and cutlery scattered in all directions. Then, wielding the tray like a great shield, he held it between Kaela and the wizard. The evil, red fire touched the silver. Like a mirror, it threw the fire back at Stafgrym. By the time the wizard realized what was happening, he was too deep in his spell to break free of it. All the malice and power that he poured into the spell were released upon him. The fire enveloped him and he screamed, a horrible, thin wail of pain and fear. The red flames flared to an almost unbearable brightness, then guttered out. As if in sympathy, every candle in the hall died. The astonished people were left in total darkness.