Well, at least the king had been right about one thing-if he could get out of this one, he would definitely be somebody worth listening to-that is, if he could still talk.
Chapter 19
Ortho the Frank stopped abruptly, holding up a hand. The horseman behind narrowly managed to avoid a collision, and that only by swerving his cantering steed to the side, which made the rider next to Ortho sheer off, and the man behind him rein in with an oath, while the man to the side of the man to the side had to pull over, but not quite as much. A knot in the traffic flow developed, and the army ground to a halt. Fortunately, Queen Alisande had been on Ortho’s other side-in fact, that was why the rider behind had swerved wide though the huge presence of Stegoman the dragon might have had something to do with that, too. But she was nonetheless peeved at having her cantering army coming to a stop. Still, she knew better than to tax a wizard while he was doing his job. After he was done with his job, maybe… She wrenched her mind away from a sudden craving for oatmeal with sauerkraut sauce and asked, ‘What moves, Ortho?“
“Your husband.” Ortho’s voice seemed distant, reverberating from a long journey bouncing off cavern walls. “He is in great trouble, very profound.”
The thrill of fear banished all thoughts of oatmeal, even if that sauerkraut sauce would be delicious right now. “Is he in peril of his life?”
“Nay. There is no danger of death.”
Alisande relaxed a little and couldn’t help thinking that sauerkraut was vastly underrated. She put the notion aside with resolute insistence and focused her attention on the problem. “What danger can he be in, then?”
“Danger that he may be doomed to dwell in a dungeon cell,” the wizard breathed, “that he may never win free again, never return.”
Panic gripped Alisande all over again. To be bereft of her husband, and especially at a time like this… ! She turned in her saddle, waving a clenched fist aloft. “Onward, men of mine! To Venarra! We must pry open the king’s castle as if it were a nutshell!”
A shout of approval answered her, but as it died, a different kind of shout went up from the vanguard. Alisande turned, wondering what it might be. “A courier comes,” said Sir Guy, and beside him the dragon Stegoman lowered his great scaly head to say, “He wears King Boncorro’s colors.”
Alisande turned to the messenger with a glare that could have melted a glacier. “What does your master wish, sirrah!”
The courier pulled in his horse, amazed and frightened by the total absence of protocol. “Your Majesty!” he stammered, and dismounted to kneel. “I bear greetings from King Boncorro, through the mouth of his chancellor, Lord Rebozo!”
Which meant that the king might not know of this errand-but if he did, the words had better be to Alisande’s liking. “What says the Lord Chancellor?”
“He bids you welcome to Latruria, Majesty, and asks if you have come seeking Lord Matthew Mantrell.”
Alisande stiffened. “I have indeed!”i “Then he bids you be easy in your heart as regards the Lord Wizard’s welcome here, your Majesty, for Lord Matthew is no longer in Latruria!”
Alisande stared, feeling the frisson of danger, very sinister danger, spreading icy needle jabs all over her skin. “Is he not, then?”
“Nay, Majesty, though, says the Lord Chancellor, the Lord Wizard was severely lacking in courtesy not to announce himself openly, but to come in secret, like a spy.”
All expression left Alisande’s face; the criticism felt like a slap. “You may tell the Lord Chancellor that my husband has ever had a taste for going in disguise among the common folk, that he may have a truer sense of their needs-and that I am sure it was concern for the relatives of Merovence’s folk that led him across your borders. But where has my Lord Matthew gone?”
“Why… the Lord Chancellor did not say!” the courier stammered. “I would be surprised if he did know, Majesty!”
“He speaks the truth,” Ortho muttered, his gaze still halfway in some other world. The truth as he knew it, Alisande amended. She, however, was quite sure that Chancellor Rebozo did indeed know where Matt had gone, and suspected that what Rebozo knew, his master knew. “You may give the Lord Chancellor my greetings and tell him that I am pleased to learn of the hospitality he has offered my husband. Tell him that I shall find a way to return the favor in equal measure.” There, she thought, let him hear that and tremble. “But tell his Majesty that, since I have come this far, I shall press on to Venarra and make a visit of state. I have not, after all, had the opportunity to congratulate him on his coronation.”
The courier paled, catching the implied rebuke-which, of course, he was very right to do; Alisande was still smarting at not having been invited, though she knew well that inviting the ruler of a kingdom dedicated to the Rule of Right to the coronation of a king dedicated to the Rule of Might was like inviting a dozen wildcats to a dogs’ party. The courier ducked his head in a bow, leaped up and scrambled back onto his horse. If anything, his face was paler than before. He turned his mount… And found himself hemmed in by a sea of hostile faces. “Conduct our guest to the edge of our army,” Alisande purred, “and see him on his way with every courtesy. We would not, after all wish our message to go astray.”
“It has already been heard,” Ortho breathed, like a breeze in leafy branches. Alisande didn’t doubt it for a second; she had dealt with sorcerers before. She had noticed a beetle clinging to the courier’s shoulder and had thought that it might indeed be enchanted to send the sound and sight of this meeting to Chancellor Rebozo, or or least to allow him to focus on the scene in his crystal ball, or a bowl of ink. “Send him forth with all ceremony! For surely, it is ceremony that is our concern now!”
The courier glanced at her with apprehension. She noted with approval that the man must know the ways of the court well, to catch the implication that she knew that King Boncorro knew that she was thinking that he was thinking, so that all that was left to do was to go through the motions. She watched the man ode away, reflecting that he was wise to be apprehensive. Only the motions, yes, but those motions might be the handshake of peace or the blows of war. Her attention turned inward for the moment; reflexively, she pressed her hand to her abdomen, hoping for the first time in her Me that it would not be war, not now.
Yes, she hoped indeed that King Boncorro would receive them with outward hospitality, would go through motions that at least said they were not enemies, though also not friends. She found herself hoping that his kitchen stocked sauerkraut.
Bad enough that everything was misty-now it was getting dark, too! Matt had finally summoned the willpower to risk a very tentative step, and when the yielding surface had held up as he gradually transferred his weight from one foot to the other, he had risked a second step, then a third. There was a floor there, all right, and occasionally he actually saw wisps of dry grass poking through the mist around his ankles, so he assumed it must be ground.
Besides, it was very uneven, and he stumbled a lot. After a while dim shapes seemed to be hulking in the mist, darker gray amidst lighter gray, but when he moved toward them, they faded. Were they really mirages, or was he somehow going astray when he thought he was going right at them? At least he wasn’t going to die of thirst-all he had to do was open his mouth, and in a minute enough moisture condensed to calm his needs. He was definitely getting hungry, though, and very tired. Then the light began to go. The only thing worse than twilight in a strange place is darkness when everything has been twilight already. It did occur to him that he might have been in London on a bad day, but it didn’t seem very likely-unless the whole city had gone on vacation at the same time. Besides, they would have had streetlights, and here he couldn’t see any light at all.