“I went as secretly as I could, Majesty,” he answered, “but by sunset of my first day, they were on my trail… how, I do not know.”
“A rider coming from Bordestang and following my army would be cause enough for their concern.”
But her brow creased with concern of her own. “What manner of hounds did they set on your trail?”
What could Doman say? A giant rat wasn’t a hound. Of course, there had been hounds of a sort, and … Doman shuddered at the thought of the huge things, heads tall as his horse’s shoulder, with eyes glowing red as fire… but with dark green scales instead of fur, and beaks instead of muzzles. They had run on all fours like dogs, but huge leathery wings had unfolded from their backs as they had sprung into the air to search for him. He had taken cover at the first sound of their strange cries, half bay and half crow, and lay huddled in a thicket holding Bubaru’s nose desperately closed. The horse kept trying to tug its head free, eyes wide and rolling with fear, but Doman hung on with a death grip. He was very glad that he had waded a hundred feet down every stream he’d come to.
Bubaru jerked its head, frightened by the strange creatures… Doman wondered if it could smell them, or if it was taking fright from sight alone. Certainly that was horrifying enough. If the horse whinnied, they were lost…
But Doman kept firm hold over its muzzle, and the horse gave only a grunt or two. The lizard-hounds didn’t hear; they banked away and flew off into the night, their strange cries dwindling behind them.
And, of course, Doman remembered the beautiful spirit and her command to tell no one of their encounter… so when the queen seemed concerned about his journey, all Doman could say was, “It had its worrying moments, Your Majesty, but I am come safely to bring you the message that Lady Mantrell sends.”
Alisande frowned at the title… it reminded her of an oversight… but said, “Speak.”
“Your castle stands,” Doman recited, “but hundreds of Moorish ships have come sailing into Bordestang’s harbor, bringing thousands of soldiers to besiege your city. More come every day.”
“A siege!” Alisande stared, thunderstruck, and in an instant the strategy was clear to her. “They waited till my army and I were gone, then struck!”
She didn’t ask how the ships had come so far without hindrance… she saw that clearly, too, and knew with bitter certainty that she must build a fleet, and quickly.
But if the Moors’ strategy was clear, so was her own, and her obligation to her countrymen. Her heart twisted within her as she realized what she must do, and that she must leave Matt and his father to fend for themselves.
Her face became a granite mask. “Turn the army! We must march back toward Bordestang, and quickly!”
“Return to Bordestang?” Her aide, Lord Gautier, stared. “Why, Majesty? Surely the castle can hold long enough for us to put paid to these Moors!”
“They are doughtier soldiers than you know, my lord, and there are very many of them,” Alisande replied. “They might occupy us for a very long time… but that is of little consequence. What matters most is that, by returning, we may catch one army of Moors between the city and our ranks.”
Her aide’s eyes widened. “Why, so we may! Surely King Rinaldo can wait a few days longer for our rescue!”
Again, foreboding shadowed Alisande. It was excellent strategy on the Mahdi’s part, to prevent her from coming to Rinaldo’s aid. She wondered if he might really manage to conquer northern Ibile while she countermarched to save her capital, and if his armies might then prove too strong for her.
Her face stayed frozen while she told Lord Gautier, “Our obligation is to Merovence first, and our more important foes are those already on our own soil. Time enough to keep other enemies from crossing the Pyrenees when we have routed those already here.”
“Of course!” her aide cried. “Why did I not see it? We may strike down tens of thousands of them, and there will be that many fewer to fight in Ibile!”
“We cannot let the chance pass us by.” Sudden anxiety twisted Alisande’s heart again. “But O, my husband! How shall he fare?”
“The Lord Wizard?” Lord Gautier stared. “How could we help him, Majesty? He has gone to face the paynim with only his magic for his strength!”
“But he may be relying upon my army to rescue him, if he encounters magic too strong for him!”
“Magic too strong for the Lord Wizard?” Lord Gautier exclaimed in disbelief. “Majesty, he has always been able to spell his way out of any trap into which he has fallen!”
Alisande’s anxiety abated a little. “There is some truth in that… “
“Great truth, be sure! Lord Matthew has a knack of summoning up whatever sort of magical friend he needs, to face any given crisis.” He smiled. “Rather, ask how we will manage without his aid!”
Alisande wished he hadn’t brought up that point. “We can, at least, send a messenger to tell him what we do! See that this courier who brought the news is given meat, ale, and rest, then send him after the Lord Wizard!”
“Majesty, I shall.” Her aide bowed. “I know it is useless to tell you not to be concerned for your husband, but I shall say it anyway. No matter what his danger, the Lord Wizard shall prevail.”
“I hope you are right, my lord,” But Alisande wondered just what kind of predicament Matt would get himself into this time. Considering that his goal was to meet the Mahdi, she was more afraid of his succeeding than of his failing.
“That’s the Mahdi’s camp?” Matt stared down, appalled at acre after acre of campfires.
“Surely you are not surprised!” Lakshmi boomed. “You knew his armies were mighty, did you not?”
“Yeah, but not so close! I mean, this is just on the other side of the Pyrenees!” Matt glanced back at the bulk of the mountains, looming huge in the darkness, black against the stars. “I didn’t know they’d marched this far! Weren’t they supposed to be attacking the north?”
“They did, then gave over that campaign quite suddenly, to march east to this camp. Did you not know all of Ibile is theirs, save the northeast?”
“Only the northeast, now? I thought it was the whole north! So the whole point of the attack was to secure this base, huh? But why?”
“Perhaps the Mahdi is more concerned about the Queen than the King of Ibile,” Papa offered.
“Really reassuring,” Matt growled. “I’m beginning to have a very bad feeling about this.”
“I shall leave you and be done!” Lakshmi declared. “Where would you stand?”
“Well, facing the Mahdi, of course!” Matt said. “That’s what we’ve come for, isn’t it?”
“Perhaps just outside his tent,” Papa suggested, “so that his guards may announce us.”
“Announce you? They would slay you on the spot!” Lakshmi told him. “If you would meet the Mahdi, then meet him you shall!” She caught them to her and began to spin around and around, chanting a verse in Arabic, becoming translucent, then transparent, then a whirlwind. Matt shouted in protest as the wind that had been Lakshmi whirled him about and about, and the whole world became a blur of darkness streaked with orange light.
Chapter Sixteen
Matt’s stomach churned even faster than the whirlwind. “Somebody stop the merry-go-round!”
“Close your eyes!” Papa shouted.
Matt squeezed his eyes shut, hoping Papa was right and that it would help the motion sickness. He wished for a Dramamine, but had sense enough not to say it out loud.
Then the ground jarred up against his feet, canvas was flapping about him, and he spun one last time, then fell over. Dizzy and seasick, terrified that enemies might jump him, he tried to push himself to his feet, groping for his sword hilt.