Tyrant Trouble (Mudflat Magic) (22 page)

Nance
lay motionless as she got the message. I slowly ran my hand up her back until I
felt the fabric of her hood bunched at her neck, then pulled the hood up over
her blond hair. My hair didn't matter because it was as dark as the night
anyway.

We
raised our heads and I felt Nance gasp. Felt a bit like gasping, myself. We did
both manage to keep still.

“Why
are you out?” the scratchy voice demanded.

His
silhouette was clear against the starlit sky, taller than most men, hooded,
long cape swinging out above his narrow boots. Nance whispered, “Deathwalker.”

Lor
said, “Been at the kennel. Got a dog out.”

“Have
you found it?” The voice ran like ice cubes down my spine.

“Not
yet. Be going to circle the castle.”

“Why
would one of your dogs be at the castle?” The tall shape moved toward Lor, and it
looked to me as though only the boots moved. No swinging of shoulders, or turn
of head.

“Wouldn't.
Woods beyond, might go there. Rabbits.”

The
figure reached Lor and stopped in front of him. We could see them both, the
deathwalker looming over Lor, Lor holding his ground, not backing so much as a
half step.

“Who's
with you?”

“You're
right,” Lor said slowly. “Shoulda brought another dog.”

“Not
dogs. People. Who else is out here with you?”

The
persistence of the man was not good. I poked Nance, then starting inching on my
belly toward the castle wall, trying to keep my face down so it wouldn't
reflect starlight. The rest of me was fairly well concealed.

Lor
said, “Could use a lad to track dogs.”

I
dug my elbows into the ground and pulled myself forward and felt Nance move
beside me. Slow going.

As
though Lor guessed as much, he actually kept up a conversation, maybe a first
for Lor. “Don't got one.”

“A
boy to track dogs? What are you going on about, man? Can't you call the dog?”

Lor
did a very loud throat clearing, harrumphed a bit, coughed, then said, “Don't
know dogs, do ya?”

We
were at the door. I looked over and saw Lor step slightly away so the man
turned automatically to stay near him. Effective, but then, I knew Lor was
clever. The deathwalker now had his profile to us and that meant the rim of his
hood blocked any side vision.

I
stood up, touched the stone, and as the door slid open I reached back and
pulled Nance through.

“What's
that! Did you hear that?”

“Hear
what? You hear the dog?”

“Not
your stupid dog! There's a person over there by the wall!”

Not
any more. The door was closed and Ober's man could wander up and down the wall
all night, peering behind shrubs or running his hands along the stones. He
wouldn't find a sign of us.

Catching
Nance's hand, I led the way. Throughout our blind journey down the black
corridor I repeated to myself the arguments I would give to Tarvik, reasons he
would have to accept. It would be no quick win. He would resist what would seem
to him a coward's withdrawal from his duties as ruler. Also, a guy who carried
a token of his promised beneath his tunic next to his heart seemed to me
unlikely to suspect her of evil intentions.

Now
that I had talked with the magician, I was prepared to argue with Tarvik until
daybreak, if need be, because I was so sure of the danger planned for him. And
in one matter only was I wrong. I misjudged Ober. The woman had no patience,
wasted no time.

When
I pushed aside the rug covering the opening to Tarvik's room, Tarvik sat alone
on the stone floor, propped into a corner of the walls, his head dropped onto
one shoulder, his eyes and mouth open but his mind and all his senses closed.

I
flew across the room and knelt beside him, grabbing his shoulders, then running
my hands over his face and whispering his name.

His
skin was as cold as the stone walls.

Nance
stuffed her knuckles into her mouth to keep from screaming.

CHAPTER
13

After
fumbling to unhook the clasp on his cloak, I pushed aside the heavy fur, pressed
my hand against the soft velvet of his tunic and could feel nothing, no rise
and fall of his chest. Frantic, I ripped at the laces until I could work my
hand under the material and slide my fingers across his skin. Cold. When I
leaned closer, a faint breath touched my face and beneath my palm I felt his
heartbeat.

“He's
alive,” I whispered.

Nance
moved to my side and reached out a shaking hand to touch Tarvik's forehead. “He
feels dead.”

“Not
yet.”

“What
is it? What has happened? Will he die? Stargazer, what will we do? Should we
call his guards? Where is Artur?”

I
settled Tarvik against the wall, then caught Nance's face between my hands to
make her stop babbling and look at me. She trembled violently.

“Listen
to me, Nance. Tarvik was healthy when we saw him this morning, and I don't see
any injury. Ober must have given him a drug.”

“Can
you heal him?”

“Wish
I could, but I can't. I don't know what's wrong with him.”

“But
he will die!” she wailed.

“Hush.
We can't be caught here. If you want to save Tarvik, you must do as I say.”

Nance
blinked back tears and nodded.

“Nance,
we have to speak with the magician.”

“That
is not possible!”

“Who
else would know how to stop Ober's poisons?”

“Yes,
I understand, but we cannot go past the guards to his cell,” Nance whispered.

“Do
you know how to reach the courtyard that serves as ceiling to the cell?”

Nance
thought I was leading us both to doom, but she was too terrified by Tarvik's
condition to argue.

With
his cloak and tunic open and his head fallen back against the wall, his throat
was exposed and it was dead white and motionless, no visible sign of breathing
or of a pulse. He wore his velvet cloak, probably about as warm as a sweater
and used for an extra layer in the unheated rooms. His legs stuck out straight
in front of him, sheathed in velvet pants and soft boots, again indoor wear,
and the position suggested he had stood with his back to the wall, shoulder
against the corner, and slid slowly down until he was sitting, then tilted
sideways into the corner. His hands were open at his sides, rings gleaming.

Still
dressed, not getting ready for bed unless he slept in his clothes, who knew? Oh
wait, I did.

He'd
slid onto the sheepskins beside me in his tent that first night after we met,
and he had on his pants but nothing else, no shirt, no shoes. Of course, that
was summer, so I still didn't really know.

His
sword hung in its sheath from a peg on the wall. He hadn't been expecting trouble.
It looked more as though he had invited someone into his room and the reason I
thought that, and surely Nancy Drew would have agreed, was because there were a
couple of fancy metal goblets on a tray on the table.

I
hurried over to them, picked them up.

They
were both empty. “The deathwalker, do you think he did this?”

Nance
whimpered.

“Okay,
let's figure out how to talk to the magician,” I said.

Nance
drew imaginary lines on the floor with her fingertip, explaining the rooms and
corridors of the castle.

“So
there's only one room between us and the courtyard?”

“I
think so. It has been several years since I was free to wander the castle with
Tarvik.”

“Whose
room is next to this?”

“It
used to be the chamber of Tarvik's nursemaid. She was an old woman who had once
been nursemaid to Kovat. She died long ago.”

A
thought stirred in my mind. “Was she fond of Tarvik?”

“She
was like a grandmother to him, protecting him in all things, even against
Kovat's discipline. Why do you ask?”

“Maybe
she's the one who showed him the passageway. If so, it may extend to her room.”

As
there was no way to silently open Tarvik's door and go past the guards to the
courtyard, the secret passage had to be explored. We slipped back behind the
rug and felt our way toward the other direction of the corridor until it ended
in a blank wall of stone. My fingers searched until I found a slightly indented
stone, which I did not want to press, but what were my choices?

With
Nance sniffling behind me, still horrified by her sight of Tarvik, I shivered
violently at the thought of what might happen when I pressed the stone. Would a
door swing inwards to a brightly lit room filled with Ober's guards? We'd die
together, Nance and I, and if Ober had given him poison, rather than a sleeping
potion, Tarvik would die alone in his chamber. Ober would tell Kovat the three
of us had died of fever, and would Kovat ever know otherwise? It's not like
these folks did autopsies.

Given
any other choice, I would have taken it. Biting my lower lip, determined not to
scream no matter what happened, I closed my mind to visions of disaster and
pressed the stone.

A
door indeed opened. It was a narrow stone slab set so well it pivoted into the
passageway without creating any sound. I reached through the doorway and touched
a rug backing. Moving it slowly to the side, I peered into a dimly lit room.

If
some fears had been unfounded, so had some hopes. There was no one in the room,
but it wasn't an unused room. The heavy swords and capes hanging from the walls
above the sheepskin covered floor, and the one lamp flickering in a wall
bracket, showed too clearly that guards slept here and came and went often
enough to leave the lamp burning.

Nance
caught my hand.

I
whispered, “We have a little luck. The door to the hall is open.”

Nance
followed silently as I led the way across the room, into an empty corridor and
around a corner and through an open archway to the starlit courtyard. It was a
small space, perhaps once used as a private place to take the air, an empty
square surrounded on three sides by blank palace wall and on the fourth side by
an outer wall twice my height. If anyone came down the deadend hallway and
looked through the archway, there we would be. The courtyard didn’t have any
hiding places.

We
knelt by the grill and hoped none of Ober's guards would notice us, black
shapes in the darkness.

I
leaned down and whispered, “Are you awake, magician?”

I
was answered by a long silence that I was afraid to break in case a guard might
be standing in the cell.

Finally
the magician whispered, “Who asks?”

“Stargazer.”

“Have
you given the potion to the guards?”

“There
are no guards here.”

“How
am I to escape?”

“I
don't know. But I need your advice. Something has happened to Kovat's son. His eyes
and mouth are open, he breathes, but his skin is cold and he's unconscious. I
can't wake him.”

“Ah,
the lady Ober has outwitted you.” He sounded too weary to be either pleased or
frightened.

“Can
I save him?”

“No.”
In the long silence I could imagine him thinking through his choices. Finally
he said, “But perhaps I can. I must see him.”

Fortunately
I could not see Nance's expression in the shadows. I knew what she was
thinking.

“We
cannot save Tarvik ourselves,” I told her and pressed her hand. To the magician
I said, “Have any suggestions?”

“Do
you wear a sash?”

“Yes.”

“How
long is it?”

Okay,
I knew what he wanted. “I have two of them. Tied together they would be twice
my height.”

“That
will do,” he whispered. “If you can lift aside the grillwork, tie one end of
the sash to it and drop the other end to me.”

“No,
certainly not,” Nance said but as she said it, she reached under her cloak and
untied the sash from her tunic and handed it to me. Together we struggled to
lift the grill, with little Nance bearing most the weight.

I
was not surprised the old man could climb sashes to the courtyard. All these
people were hard-muscled, and even Nance, though she was a head shorter than
me, had twice my strength. He came up hand over hand, reached the level of the courtyard,
leaned his head on his crossed arms on the edge of the opening, and then pulled
himself out and onto the floor.

Silently
we replaced the grill, retrieved our sashes and crept back towards the empty
room. Or rather, I thought it would be empty. No such luck. As we neared the
door, we heard someone stir inside. A glance through the doorway showed a guard
stretched full length on the sheepskins with his face to the wall. We stepped
back into the courtyard and tried to blend into its darkness.

“We
came through a door at the back of that room,” I whispered to the magician. “I
don't know any other way out.”

He
looked back at the courtyard wall. We did not bother to discuss it. Even if we
boosted each other up, it was too high to climb.

“The
guard was there when you came through?” he asked.

“No,
the room was empty.”

“Then
he only now returned to rest. We must wait until he sleeps.”

And
while we waited, would other guards return to the room, going in and out,
taking turns at sleeping, until the night and Tarvik's life ebbed away? My
thoughts raced desperately between climbing the impossibly high wall to taking
a chance on dashing through the room. I even leaned around the doorway to take
a better look at the guard, thinking that if it was Artur I would ask him to
help us. Sure, it wouldn't be us he cared to help, and he might be angry that
we'd freed the magician, but he would do whatever was needed to save Tarvik.

We
were not that lucky. The guard was no one I recognized, and he was working very
slowly, hanging his sword on the wall, then sitting down on a sheepskin and
carefully unbuckling his belt. I wanted to hiss at him to hurry up and go to
sleep.