The Stolen Lake (25 page)

"Don't try to jump," Dido's guard warned her, "or you'll come to ground spitted like a pigeon."

He wore a hood, but she thought she recognized his voice.

Having entered the cave, their captors lit candles in glass lanterns and urged the prisoners forward at a rapid walk. At this point Mr. Multiple managed to get near the two girls.

"I'm sorry, Your Highness, I'm
sorry,
" he muttered miserably. Dido saw that tears were running down his cheeks; he looked utterly wretched. "Oh, I could kill myself," he cried. "But what good would that do?"

"None at all." Elen gave him a stony look. "I hate a coward," she said haughtily.

Dido had more sympathy toward the wretched lad. She remembered how she herself felt about spiders.

"Never mind, Mr. Mully," she said. "Done's done. Best you can do now, if there's ever a chance, is get away and give the alarm which way we've gone."

However, it seemed, he was not to be given the chance. After they had walked what felt like three or four miles (but was probably less) along dark, narrow ascending galleries, they came to a much larger cavern, where the high, regular walls showed the scarred signs of workings. Probably silver mines, Dido guessed; there were pickaxes and sections of machinery lying here and there. An underground river crossed their path and had to be forded by a series of square stepping-stones which had evidently been set there for the purpose.

Not far from this point the river apparently plunged over a cliff into a gorge; they could hear the roar of a waterfall and see spray rising. Dido's hooded guard nodded toward Mr. Multiple and indicated the falls.

"Toss him over there. He is no further use to us. His body will never be found in here."

"
No!
You can't do that!" exclaimed Dido in horror.

Mr. Multiple yelled and struggled unavailingly as four of the hooded captors dragged him toward the gorge, while the rest of the party proceeded swiftly on their way. Dido heard the unfortunate midshipman's voice raised in a final shriek of despair.

Soon afterward his assassins rejoined the other group, which had reached the terminal point of a strange little conveyance evidently used for transporting ore through the galleries of the mine. It was a series of open cars, linked together, which ran along above a single track, or rather groove, in the rock floor; this groove emitted steam, which somehow propelled the cars by turning a rotor which engaged with the wheels. Cap'n Hughes would go crazy over it, Dido thought glumly, as she and Elen were thrust into a car with two of their captors (each car held no more than four persons, and that was a tight squeeze); a lever was pulled to start the train, which moved off slowly, but by degrees built up a terrifying speed, so that they hurtled hissing through the darkness, rocking and swaying from side to side.

"Keep your head down," Dido's guard curtly warned her, "or you're liable to get your brains dashed out."

She followed this advice and huddled on the floor of the car, a prey to the most dismal thoughts. Mr. Multiple's dreadful fate had upset her horribly; he was a decent, kindhearted boy, she thought, not a mite of harm in him, not his fault he didn't like snakes; and they tossed him over the cliff without giving two thoughts to the matter, as if he'd been an apple core!

It was stiflingly hot in this part of the mountain. The air, such as there was, smelled very bad, of hot metal, aged rock, and sulfureous steam; what with that, and the train's seesaw, oscillating motion, Dido began, after an hour or so, to feel very sick indeed. Her head throbbed, and she had to keep swallowing; but she had nothing to swallow
with
—her mouth felt as dry as stale bread. The guards' lanterns had long ago blown out, in the wind of their progress, and she could not even see Elen, but groped about and found her hand. She feared that the princess—only just rescued from that cave—must feel even worse; and indeed Elen's hand seemed alarmingly cold and limp, returning only the faintest pressure in response to Dido's.

After an immense interval—Dido thought she might have slipped into a kind of faint; the time slid past in feverish fits and starts, as it does during illness—they came out into larger, lighter galleries, past gleaming piles of silver ore and uncut gemstones awaiting carriage to the outer world. At last the train began to slow down, and finally it drew to a stop. The lanterns were lit again.

Dido's guard had pushed back his hood during the journey, and she saw that he was the grand inquisitor, Daffyd Gomez. The person holding Elen was likewise revealed as the vicar general, Fluellen. Might have guessed those old ravens would get in on it somehow, Dido thought dejectedly, letting herself be pushed out of the car onto a rock platform.

The hiss of the train died away, and instead Dido heard another familiar voice.

"So you have got them! Just as well one part of the business has gone right."

Another masked, cloaked figure, unmistakable nonetheless by its smallness as Lady Ettarde, hobbled along the platform. She took off her mask to glower at the two exhausted girls. She was accompanied by old Mrs. Morgan.

"Why, what has gone wrong?" demanded Fluellen.

"Those fools have let Hughes and my nephew escape from the Wen Pendragon."

"Holy Sul! I didn't think it could have been done. Where are they now?"

She shrugged.

"Who knows? Gone into the mountains. Very likely the aurocs will get them. But on account of that, Her Mercy needs new hostages, as a lever against anything Mabon may try. And she is becoming very impatient.
Come
along, you!" she said to Dido and Elen.

The girls were jerked and jostled to the foot of a steep, winding stairway, and obliged to climb it. In their dazed and fainting state they made very slow progress; Mrs. Morgan, behind them, kept up a continual angry mutter: "
Git
along,
git
along, then, me little runaway darlings"—on the word
darlings
she poked Dido with what felt like a bodkin—"Her Mercy'11 be happy to see
you
again, that's one thing certain."

They arrived at the top of the long climb with knees that felt like wool.

Now, to Dido's utter amazement, she recognized her surroundings; the stair had brought them into one of the antechambers of Bath Palace. Who'd a thought we had come so far? she said to herself. So the queen has her own private way into the silver mines. Very handy for her anytime she wants a new pair of earrings.

Lady Ettarde halted her prisoners at the foot of the grand staircase.

"Now listen to me, you two!" she hissed. Despite her small stature she looked extremely formidable. "First, don't think you will be so lucky as to escape a second time! My brother himself will guard you this time. Clever as you may think you are, once you are in the city of Sul, he and his cat-a-mountain will be more than a match for you."

Neither of the girls made any reply. They were still getting their breath after the punishing climb.

"Idiot!" snapped Lady Ettarde to the grand inquisitor. "Why did you not take some rumirumi flowers with you? Her Grace will not be best pleased to see them so fatigued."

Dido had a recollection of Mrs. Morgan saying, "
She
don't like them if they're droopy."

When Lady Ettarde turned to continue on up the grand stair, Dido whispered to Elen, "Droop as much as you can. Pretend to feel even worse than you do!"

They were led along the curving gallery toward the throne room. But halfway along the gallery Lady Ettarde halted them once more, ostensibly to let them get their breath, in reality to whisper menacingly, "Don't tell the queen that the Rex Atahallpa is back."

"
Who?
"

"Atahallpa. Artaius. Don't tell her."

"Why not?" said Dido sourly.

"Because if she knows that he is back and has not made haste to join her, she will be so angry that she will probably have your tongues cut out on the spot."

"But why should you care?" said Dido. Partly she was playing for time—anything to keep the old witch talking; but she did wonder why it mattered to Lady Ettarde.

"Never you mind!" rasped the mistress of the robes, and hobbled on again.

As Dido followed, the answer came to her. Of course
she
don't want Mr. Holystone to turn up here and settle down as Queen Ginevra's ever-loving husband. Because when he does, it's crowns to cake crumbs as her turn'll be over; the queen won't pay heed to her anymore. Likely she's sorry he ever came back, and wishes him at Jericho.

Now they were led into the queen's presence.

Ginevra hardly seemed to have moved since Dido saw her last. She still reclined, fatly, in her loose white gown, among cobwebby gray curtains. But she looked older, Dido thought; her face was drawn and haggard, there was no coyness or sentimentality about it today. Her eyes were strangely dull, except that every now and then, even though she was not wearing her glasses, they suddenly, for a moment, would become purely reflectors and mirror the scene in front of her. This, when it happened, was horribly disconcerting, as if the queen had stopped being a real person at all and was just a piece of machinery, mechanically carrying out her own wishes.

"Here are the two girls, Your Mercy," said Lady Ettarde. "Mabon's daughter and the other one."

Ginevra did not show any particular triumph or pleasure. Her head turned slowly, surveying the girls. Her eyes played their odd trick, shining, turning glassy; then, after a moment, they became eyes again, and she said, "Has Mabon returned my lake?"

Lady Ettarde looked inquiringly at the grand inquisitor, who had followed them. He said, "Your Mercy, he has begun sending it back. It is being flown over the mountains in leather water-skins, borne by small air balloons. The thongs are waxed, so that they melt and discharge their contents into the lake basin." He had made this report in a dispassionate, formal manner, but he concluded with some enthusiasm; "And I must say, it was a capital notion of King Mabon's! Highly ingenious! He must have some excellent designers. As I have often said to Your Mercy, if he were only our ally—"

"Quiet, fool! How long will it take? How soon will the lake be filled again?"

"At the rate the water-skins are discharging, I would guess, about thirty-six hours, ma'am."

Now Elen spoke up.

"How dare you take us prisoner, when my father has honorably fulfilled his undertaking to return the lake?"

Her voice was brave, but she flinched a little when the queen turned those glassy eyes on her.

Ginevra did not address her, however, but said to Lady Ettarde, "When is the new moon?"

"In three days, Your Mercy."

Ignoring a sick feeling in her inside, Dido bluntly addressed the queen.

"If you were thinking of having us tossed in the lake, Your Royalty, you might as well know that your
Rex Quondam
is back; so there ain't no need!"

She heard a sort of growl from Lady Ettarde, behind her, and thought she saw something black and furry detach itself from that lady's full skirts and scurry in Dido's direction.

Now the queen's shining, sightless eyes were staring at her. To avoid their unnerving stare, she looked down at the floor. Yes, it was a spider the size of a hairy grapefruit; it was on the point of climbing up her leg.

On a step of the dais, lying disregarded where Ginevra had dropped it, was the chunk of raw sapphire that Bran had given the queen. Dido snatched it up and used it to deal the spider a satisfactory, crunching thwack. The spider rolled over, its legs thrashing, then folding in death.

Don't I just wish Bran was here, Dido thought, clutching the stone. But even the memory of him was comforting.

Queen Ginevra said, "
The High King is back?
Back
where?
"

"He was up at Lake Arianrod," Dido said. "Now he's in Lyonesse."

"Is this true?"

"Oh yes, it's true," said Elen wearily. "My father has sworn fealty to him."

The queen turned her mirror eyes on Lady Ettarde.

"Why was I not told?"

"Ma'am, how do we know whether the girls are speaking truth?"

"It may be only a rumor," Lady Ettarde and the grand inquisitor said together.

Ignoring them, Ginevra clapped her hands.

"Have the coronation regalia brought out, so that I may inspect it! Send my chief herald to me. Where is my soothsayer? Fetch him here!"

"Your Mercy, nobody knows where he is."

Lady Ettarde was red-faced, flustered and gasping.

"Have those two girls sent up, under double escort, to the city of Sul," the queen went on. "Give this message to the guardian." She scribbled on the tablets a scribe brought her. "Ettarde! I shall need ten new gowns. And my lord will doubtless require a royal wardrobe—and a coronation robe. Let tailors be sent for."

"Of course, Your Mercy." Lady Ettarde looked relieved at this evidence that her sphere of usefulness was not yet ended. "What shall I—?"

"Quiet! Leave me now. I must have rest and quiet. I must think. I must remember." She lay back on her cushions.

The girls were hustled away. Once they were out of sight, Lady Ettarde gave Dido a box on the ear that rattled her teeth together.

"That's for disobeying me, you little hussy!"

Their journey to the Temple of Sul was also taken by underground train through the silver mines. Too bad the queen didn't tell us this way before, Dido thought; saved us a deal of travel, that would, and poor Plum wouldn't have been took by the aurocs. But then, she reflected, I wouldn't have found the sword, and Elen wouldn't have been rescued. Though what's the good of that now?

Dido felt very low-spirited. The death of poor Mr. Multiple had upset her dreadfully; the interview with Queen Ginevra had not cheered her at all. And besides that, it was now three quarters through the day, and she felt hollow and light-headed from lack of food and sleep.

The train they rode on this time, however, was far more comfortable, apparently the queen's private conveyance to the Temple of Sul. The cars had glass windows like small hackney coaches, and wool-stuffed cushions. These pits were still being actively worked, and miners could sometimes be seen through the windows hacking at rock faces or carrying the ore in baskets strapped to their backs. There were a great many women and children at work, too. Elen was shocked to see this.