Conqueror’s Moon (43 page)

“The nobles and knights are attempting to calm the men’s fears. All the same, tonight we’ll shelter inside the keep except for those guarding our own stock—and they’ll have bonfires and torches to discourage wandering spunkies. Stergos and Doman will alternate in keeping windwatch from the top of the tower as well. I presume there’s no danger of enemy forces discovering that we’re here?”

“No danger at all, Your Grace. I’ve thoroughly searched the two roads leading from this place and the mountain paths as well. No one is abroad this evening in the fog save the Small Lights.”

Prince Conrig was silent for some time, watching the gyrating fuzzy glimmerings. Then: “Why did you disobey my order to kill Redfern’s wizards, Snudge?”

The boy said coolly, “You gave no such order. You told me only to silence them, and that I did—with the bonus of rendering most of the rest of the garrison pissy-eyed as well. Regular doses of liquor will keep the adepts incapable until their talent no longer threatens our invasion. Lord Stergos said he’d have his squire Gavlok see to it.”

“I stand corrected,” Conrig retorted, none too graciously. “But your soft heart will have to yield to mortal expediency very soon. Not long ago, Stergos attempted to bespeak the Lady Ullanoth. She did not reply, and we can only assume she’s still very weak from having empowered Weathermaker and banished the freeze. Now, our army is due to enter Mallburn Town during the wee hours of the day after tomorrow. By then we may hope that the princess will be recovered to a certain degree. Unfortunately for us, she will probably not have the strength to Send herself handily about, abetting our forces as she’d planned. Stergos believes, as I do, that she can’t possibly perform both of the strategic tasks she originally set herself. She will have to choose between opening the gates at the Mallmouth Bridge and admitting us to the stronghold of Holt Mallburn Palace.”

“I see.” He did, too…

At that moment a stomach-wrenching shriek rang out from below, the sound of a horse maddened by terror. Conrig flinched. “Bazekoy’s Bones, there goes the first of them.” The cry was cut short, only to be followed by a drawn-out bovine bellow that culminated in a mournful gurgling tremolo. “We needn’t stay here. Let’s go inside the keep.”

He led the way along the curtain wall parapet to the rickety wooden stairs that gave access to the crowded bailey. The Cathrans had compelled their prisoners to gather much of the castle furniture to make fires upon which cauldrons of savory pottage were simmering. Other men in leg-fetters were demolishing the worksheds and other wooden structures inside the walls to make more fuel. The army’s huge herd of horses, mules, and ponies was picketed closely but still filled the greater part of the ward. Thanes were seeing to the animals’ feed and water, farriers were checking hooves, and here and there knights or their armigers gave personal attention to specially favored steeds.

After the fight, Snudge had found Primmie the mule in the castle stable, ensconced in a stall like some equine guest-of-honor, munching a small manger of fresh hay that was evidently the best the castle had to offer. The boy had groomed the big yellow brute fondly and secured proper oats for him once the sumpter ponies arrived.

“The Didionite prisoners seem unusually cheerful,” Snudge observed, as he and the prince passed among a group nailing together improvised water troughs.

“Only fifteen of the castle’s men-at-arms died in the skirmish, for all the blood, and none of the castle workers received a scratch. They’ve been subsisting here on dried fish and thin barley gruel. We fed them meat pottage and decent bread. If I asked it, every surviving Didionite warrior would probably pledge heartfelt allegiance to Cathra.”

“And the baron and his household?”

“Sulking and not yet willing to take the oath of fealty. But our lenient treatment may predispose them to accept the Sovereignty later, as well as pass on tidings of my clemency to their peers. They’ll have little enough choice. By the time we leave this place, there’ll be neither food nor firewood left. We’re feeding Redfern’s barley stores to our own beasts. After we move on, the baron and his folk will have to abandon the castle and flee to the coast on foot. Thank God there are no women or children here.”

The victorious Cathrans who were not on duty had taken over the great hall, where a roaring blaze at the center and replenished wall-cressets cheered and warmed the scene. Even if most of the food and drink on the trestle boards was cold, there was plenty of it.

The smallish high table was already filled by Catclaw and Cloudfell and their roistering knights, celebrating the abbreviated combat. Conrig and Snudge sat down on stools by the fire that had been hastily vacated when the prince approached.

Cloudfell’s armiger came running from the table with a crock of steaming spiced wine. “Your Grace! My lord urges you and your squire to come sit with us.”

“Nay, lad, we’re fine right here. But search out Duke Tanaby and the earl marshal and bid them join us.”

When the armiger dashed off, leaving the jug behind, Conrig spoke in a low voice to Snudge, who was filling both their cups. “As I understand it, your talent for hiding is based upon misdirecting observers rather than true invisibility. Furthermore, you once told me that the trick is impossible to manage if more than two or three persons are watching.”

Snudge nodded.

“Yet you overcame six gatehouse guards, by Maddick’s own admission. How?”

“I lifted their helms and whacked them on the head with a sock full of coins. It works fine, even through a chain mail hood.”

“And not a single man saw you?” Disbelief curled the prince’s lip.

Sighing, Snudge unbuttoned his shirt, drew forth the bagged moonstone sigil and let its pale green glow shine for an instant behind his cupped hand. “I was quite invisible. As you doubtless suspect by now, Iscannon’s amulet, the one called Concealer, is fully empowered and bonded to me. The Tarnian shaman Red Ansel helped with the conjuring.”

“God’s Teeth!” the prince hissed. “You told me you threw it in the sea!”

“Ansel also cautioned me to use the sigil only under the most grave circumstances, lest my soul be endangered by the Beaconfolk. Your Grace, I debated long with myself before deciding not to tell you that Concealer was alive. You may recall that I beseeched you to trust me. Now, of course, you must know about the stone, since I presume you wish me to undertake another special mission: opening the Mallmouth Bridge gate.”

Conrig took a deep pull of wine, trying to calm his anger, trying to be fair to the youth who had just enabled the first victory of his campaign against Didion. But his pride was sorely wounded, and he felt that his ability to control this all-important enterprise had been flouted by a lowborn boy. “Never presume to deny me such knowledge again!” His whisper was grating and his face dark with suppressed anger. “I am your liege lord, and it’s you who owe me trust!”

Snudge lowered his head. “I’m sorry, Your Grace. I feared…”

“You feared I would make frivolous use of your sigil! You played me false, Deveron Austrey. I did trust you, but you had no faith in me!”

The boy said nothing, nor did he raise his eyes. He pushed the bagged moonstone into his shirt and fastened the buttons.

“I forgive you,” Conrig said, in a voice that was still unsteady, wondering whether he spoke the truth. “Drink up. Here come Beorbrook and Vanguard, slowly pushing through the crowd. The duke already knows the truth about your talent. Now is the time for the earl marshal to know as well—and about the Concealer sigil. We four must decide how to effect the conquest of Holt Mallburn, now that we can no longer depend fully upon the assistance of Princess Ullanoth.”

Snudge drained his cup and wiped his mouth with his cuff. He was confident again as he looked the prince in the eye. “Do you recall how you planned for me and the armigers to guard the Conjure-Princess during the battle for the city? I think you might use us to much better advantage in another way.” He explained what he wanted to do, and what he would need.

“I can obtain a map of southern Didion for you easily enough,” the prince said, frowning. “As for a diagram of the Mallmouth Bridge machinery—such a thing must exist in the Cathra University library at Greenley. I’ll have Stergos bespeak them, get a description, and sketch it for you… But you must find a way to open the bridge by yourself, Snudge, as you did here today at Castle Redfern. I refuse to let you reveal your wild talent to a mob of boys! They’d never be able to keep the secret. It would put paid to your future usefulness to me as an intelligencer.”

“I won’t need all of the armiger cohort, Your Grace, but I will require help. The bridge defenses are bound to be much more complex and difficult to overcome than those of this small castle. Concealer is capable of rendering invisible persons who stand close to me. I could take just three squires—”

Conrig broke in. “But must you tell them of your arcane abilities? The boys have no notion of the way sigil magic operates, that it can only serve the talented. Can’t you say that the Concealer stone never lost its power when you took it from Iscannon?”

“I could do that,” Snudge agreed, “and caution them to tell no one about it.” And perhaps they would obey.

“If Vra-Doman or another Brother of Zeth should learn of your using the sigil, they would realize the truth. So would Ullanoth. And I think your life would not be worth a mouse turd if the Conjure-Princess should discover that you have the talent and own a Concealer.”

“She can’t windwatch me, so she’ll only learn of my talent and possession of the stone if someone tells her. I can swear my fellow squires to secrecy, in your name. Then I’ll conveniently ‘lose’ the sigil during the battle. If the Brethren hear rumors of it later, their tender consciences will not oblige them to report the matter to Abbas Noachil. As for my alleged wild talent”—the boy shrugged— “how can it be proved, and why would loyal adepts wish to expose me?”

“Hmmm,” said Conrig. “This could work. Let’s put it to the duke and the earl marshal, to make certain we haven’t overlooked some crucial flaw in the plan.”

“They probably won’t like it,” Snudge predicted. “Laying such a great burden upon the shoulders of mere squires won’t sit well with older warriors.”

“Then let them come up with an alternative,” said the prince, with a dismissive flip of his hand.

==========

The Didionite wizard Fring Bulegosset, principal talent accompanying the armada of Honigalus of Didion, swept into the Crown Prince’s day-cabin on the Casabarela Regnant with a supercilious nod.

“Your Royal Highness, how can I serve you?”

Honigalus and Fleet Captain Galbus Peel were seated at a table where charts and navigational instruments were laid out. The morning sun shone brightly outside the stern windows of the great barque. Three hours earlier, the fleet had emerged from the fog that had shielded it while it sailed out of Didion Bay.

Unfortunately, the fair wind that had speeded the fleet’s passage on the previous day immediately dropped to a light breeze once the ships reached the open sea and turned south.

“Fring, I want you to bespeak King Beynor of Moss,” said the prince, “and try to get him to pump up the damned wind for us. You can see how we’ve lost way in the last few hours. While he’s at it, ask him to shift the wind direction from west to northeasterly, and bring back the fog so the enemy can’t scry us. We’re already nearly abreast of the Cathran shore. You can take a seat over there in the aft corner, by the windows, while you work.”

“Well, I’ll do the best I can, Your Highness,” the wizard said tetchily, “but the young Conjure-King was uncommonly brusque when I last bespoke him, requesting his estimate on our time of arrival in the Dolphin Channel. One is tempted to think that our request for changes in the winds may be straining his abilities.”

Fring seated himself, drew the hood of his black robe over his face with a dramatic gesture, and silently began the magical communication. He was a well-fleshed, pasty-faced man in his fourth decade of life, with a small tight mouth and beady blue eyes as pale as watered milk. His windwatching talent was the most powerful in Didion, equalled only by the towering arrogance of his manner. Even though the naval officers and men were on iron rations (and fair-minded Honigalus himself shared their fare for the sake of morale), special delicacies of food had been quietly brought aboard the flagship to keep this all-important wizard in good humor; he had also insisted upon traveling with his personal cook-slave.

Captain Peel said to the prince, “Do you think Fring could be right about Beynor not being able to pull his oar strongly enough, performing weather magic?”

“I don’t know. Maybe these extraordinary feats are harder on a boy than on a grown man. There does seem to have been something strange about his behavior the last few times we’ve bespoken him. He’s been evasive about the nature of the widespread landside fog, for one thing, not seeming to know whether or not it’s natural or produced by Cathran adepts to hide troop movements. Still, my brother Somarus’s scouts haven’t found any evidence of forces assembling around Great Pass, and no Cathran infiltrators have been seen or captured by the outposts above Castlemont.”

“This clear blue sky is unexpected.” The captain was offhand, but Honigalus understood his implication immediately.

“And we know what it must mean! I doubt Beynor would admit that the Wolf’s Breath has ceased of its own accord, and we certainly won’t point it out to him while we still have a use for his magical services. But if the volcanos have gone quiet at last, there’ll be no need to pay the young knave the outrageous tribute he squeezed out of my father. We won’t deny him completely, lest he retaliate. But appropriate renegotiations will be called for.”

Peel chuckled. “It’s only just. I wouldn’t be surprised if Beynor already knew the eruptions were nearly over when he pledged to stop them with sorcery.”

“We can’t trust him an inch, Galbus. But we don’t dare antagonize him yet. We’ll need fair winds in the Dolphin Channel to take on the Cathran fleet—and our allies in Stippen and Foraile must be able to join us without delay once we round the Vigilant Isles.”