"Lay her down," the friar commanded.
Slowly, Matt knelt, laying Sayeesa gently on the floor.
"Step back." The priest's voice was gentle again. Matt stood and stepped away. The old man knelt beside Sayeesa and began to pat her cheek, murmuring softly, in too low a tone for Matt to hear. The woman stirred, and her lashes fluttered. She looked up, frowning against pain. The friar laid his hand against her brow, still murmuring, and her face relaxed. Slowly, she sat up, looking about her, dazed.
"You are in a church, my daughter," the old man said gravely. "Come." He tucked an arm under her shoulder, turning her toward the confessional. Her eyes widened; then, slowly, she nodded and came to her feet, supported by his arm. The old friar conducted her into the right-hand side of the booth, then looked up at Matt as he lifted the curtain on his own side. "Await her coming. To pass the time - you might say your penance." And he disappeared into the confessional.
Matt had time for most of it - he had a long wait, with a constant, faltering, alto murmuring from the right-hand side of the confessional, occasionally interrupted by a basso from the left.
Finally, the right-hand side quit, and the left-hand started in. It went on for a while, too. Then, at last, both voices stilled, and Sayeesa stepped out, drawn, pale, and shaken - but resolute. She moved past Matt without a glance, hands clasped at her breast, lips a thin, straight thread, and turned down the central aisle, gliding with bowed head to kneel in front of the tabernacle. Matt stared, disconcerted. There was something about her, some sense of presence, dignity, that hadn't been there before.
"Guard her well."
Matt looked up, startled, at the old friar.
"Be mindful of your word, Sir Wizard," the old man reminded him. "Keep her safely till she comes to the place I have sent her. Beware of threats to her - and to yourself."
"Uh, thanks for your concern, Father ... but I can't help thinking you're making a big deal out of a small one."
"Such thoughts trip the unwary, Wizard. You and she both have further parts in this fell pageant." The old man smiled quizzically. "Great deeds are due in this poor land, as Powers clash, and you and this former witch may do them. Your places are greater than you know."
That was not exactly a soothing thought. "Oh, I wouldn't say that, Father. My natural native modesty, no doubt, but--"
"Your native gift for seeing only what you wish, rather." The old man's smile was stern, but also amused. "Bear my words ever in your mind; and swear now to me that you'll guard her, till she's come to her own place."
Matt swore.
"Enough - and good." The priest nodded, smiling again. "And I'll trust you, for I believe you to be a man of honor, despite what you may think. Now here's your charge."
Matt looked up, startled, to see Sayeesa coming down the aisle "Done with her penance? So soon?"
"Her words of prayer were but a prelude," the old man said sternly. "She must atone with her whole life. Escort her now, for she is weakened."
Matt stepped over beside the ex-witch, offering his arm. She glanced up at him, then away, and lifted her head, straightening her shouders. She looked so pale and shaken that Matt could have sworn she was ready to drop; but she made it out the church door and into the sunlight without taking his arm. Matt shook his head in wonder; he turned to thank the old priest...
And saw the interior of the church devastated, with charred and fallen roof beams slanting down to the floor, thrusting into a heap of ash and rubble.
He stared a moment, transfixed; then he let out a shout, and Sir Guy and Alisande were at his side. "What is it, what? What have you seen?"
Matt pointed, backing away from the church. The knight and princess looked in through the church door. Alisande went white as a coronation robe. Sir Guy stepped forward, setting one steel foot inside. The floor groaned and cracked beneath his weight, and he stepped back quickly, looking at either side; wide-eyed and pale. Neither said a word; they just went straight to their horses.
"Hey!" Matt called out. "Hold on!" He ran after them and caught hold of Sir Guy's bridle as the knight mounted his horse. "Come on! What's going on? Who was that man?"
"I think you'd best not ask." Sir Guy pulled on the reins, turning his horse's head to the west. "I shall not, for my part. But I think, friend Matthew, that we have a friend where we do need one most."
He turned away without a further word, riding slowly down the village street toward the west. Alisande and Sayeesa fell in behind him.
"Mount, Lord Wizard," Stegoman rumbled at his elbow. "Do you not wish to stay near your companions?"
"Huh ... ? Oh, yeah!" Matt turned, setting a foot on Stegoman's knee, swinging the other up to the shoulder, then over between two great fins.
"Why dost thou seem so confounded?" the dragon rumbled as he waddled off after the horses. "Why question what has happened? Accept and be thankful."
"No," Matt said slowly, "I'm not built that way. I have to have an answer." He passed a feverish tongue over suddenly dry lips. "But I think I'm going to have to be content with the part of an answer I've got."
"What answer is that?"
"Somebody down here," Matt said, "likes us."
CHAPTER 9
The sun was sliding down the sky toward evening when they spotted the mob.
It was quite a distance away across the open plain, but Matt could make out flashes of green and yellow skirts on one of the women in the vanguard. "Uh, hold on, Stegoman. Your Highness! Sir Guy!"
"What troubles you?" Alisande demanded, reining in and turning around in her saddle.
"Uh, about those people approaching us..."
"Good peasant folk, no doubt. What of them?"
"With all respect, Highness," Sir Guy murmured, "no matter what the folk, we should approach with caution."
"Yeah," Matt agreed, "especially since I think I recognize one of the outfits I magicked onto one of the refugees from Sayeesa's joy-house."
Sayeesa blanched, and Alisande's face turned grave.
Slowly, she turned back in her saddle, facing the oncoming crowd. "If that be so, let us await them here."
"What! Uh ... if you don't mind a civilian's opinion, your Highness, it might behoove us more to find the quickest hole to bolt into."
"There's sense in his saying," Sir Guy said judiciously.
"But more in mine." Alisande sat stiff-backed and somehow gave the impression she'd just put down roots. "These are my people, sirs; I know them. They will not harm their princess."
It must be nice, Matt decided, to have such unswerving certainty. "Uh, let's try it the other way, your Highness. Let's say trouble starts - not that it will, you understand, but just in case it does - Sir Guy's got armor and a sword, not to mention a horse: and I'm riding a dragon and just happen to have a pretty mean blade myself."
"You have the blade," Alisande agreed, "but do you ken its use?"
"Well, my swordsmanship's not up to your kind of cuts, I'll admit. Still, I do have a sword - and the heaviest weapon they're liable to have is a scythe. Have you considered what kind of damage they might suffer?"
"None." Alisande sat back in her saddle, relaxed and certain; "Fear not, Lord Wizard; 'twill not come to blows."
Sir Guy looked relieved, and Matt's heart sank. That Divine Right clause again!
Then he remembered it was apt to prove true, and sat back himself. Maybe the princess did know what she was doing. After all, this wasn't exactly a personal matter.
But he kept his hand near his sword hilt, just in case.
The peasants came close enough to see armor and stopped; startled; they hadn't expected the nobility to be out joyriding Then the girl in the yellow petticoat and green gown saw Sayeesa.