"So the shrine itself remains." Matt frowned, brooding, gazing at the ivy-covered statue. "But what of the monks?"
"They were slain as they entered the town," Yverne said, "for the soldiers knew of their movements."
"Don't tell me they were fools enough to wear their monks' robes!"
"Nay; but a tonsure's not so easily hidden, when the guards at the gate demand that all men uncover," Fadecourt told him. "Then the king gave them trial, of course, and had his chancellor prove them guilty of lese majeste"
"After they were safely dead."
"Aye, poor souls!" Yverne's cheeks were wet. "Yet their shrine still stands neglected, for none dare come here; abandoned and in disrepair; but it stands, that the doers of evil deeds may know they have never fully won."
Matt sat frowning at the shrine.
Fadecourt noticed; and his voice was apprehensive. "Wizard? What would you do?"
"Just thinking that we're here," Matt said, "and no more likely to draw the wrath of any sentry-sorcerers by doing one more good deed. Come on, folks! Let's tidy up this grotto a little bit!" He strode away toward the statue.
Yverne and Fadecourt exchanged a glance of surprise and delight, then followed him. So did Narlh, muttering, "Something bad is gonna come of this. I just know it."
The statue's paint was faded and flaking, and Matt was tempted to scrape it all off, since it was stone underneath, but he resisted the temptation, contenting himself with clearing away the ivy and sweeping out the debris, while Yverne transplanted wildflowers and Narlh helped Fadecourt rebuild the low wall that had surrounded the grotto. They did some general cleaning and scrubbing, too, though there was no stream within the grotto, and they had to haul water from a nearby rivulet in makeshift buckets. It was midafternoon before they were done, but Matt stood back with a feeling of accomplishment and said, "There! That was time well spent."
Whether or not there had been a cave there originally was hard to tell from his angle, though Matt had seen from the inside that there was. But the monks had built an arch in front of it, of blocks smoothly fitted and extending at the front into a low stone rail. Along that rail, they had packed dirt into steps that ran the length of the wall, overgrown with grass, which Matt had mown with his dagger. It formed a prie-dieu, a kneeling bench for praying. Yverne's flowers adorned the base of the statue. There were also plants at two points up each side of the arch, in little earth-filled basins built for the purpose.
"I won't say it looks as good as new," Matt hedged, "but it doesn't look totally abandoned anymore."
"It does not, indeed," Fadecourt said. "Your pardon, Lord Wizard." And he went to kneel on the grass by the stone rail, beside Yverne, head bent in prayer.
"How about you?" Narlh demanded.
Matt stood for a second, thinking it over. Then he shook his head. "I never was much for devotion to the saints, I'm afraid. But I'll say a short prayer." He closed his eyes and bowed his head. When he lifted it again, Narlh snorted, "Short, all right."
"But to the point Besides, if he cares at all, I think the work will do instead of the words."
"Maybe," Narlh allowed, "and I guess I'd rather have a man who did something without saying he would"
"Over the one who talked a lot, but never got around to doing it?"
"You've met 'em, too, huh?"
"'Fraid so." Matt was watching Yverne as she rose and came back toward them. Fadecourt followed a few seconds later. "Back on the road?"
Yverne turned a radiant face toward him. "Aye, Lord Wizard. I think I shall fear naught that the sorcerer can do against us, now."
" 'Tis good not to fear," Fadecourt rumbled, "so long as one remembers to take care."
The sunset was long on this side of the mountains, but the land flattened out amazingly, and by the time it was dark, they still hadn't found a good camping place.
Matt signaled for a stop. "Well, when there's no place right, one spot's as good as another, isn't it?"
"I think not," Fadecourt said, frowning, "though there seems to be little choice. I prithee, make thy circle quickly, Wizard, for I mislike this open land."
"Yeah, and you didn't even grow up in the city." Matt started to swing his improvised pack off his shoulder.
But Yverne put out a hand to stop him. "Hist! What comes?"
They were instantly silent, taut, listening.
Faint with distance came a horrible grinding, gnashing sound. Even as they registered its existence, it grew louder. It sounded like giant teeth clashing against one another in anticipation of a feast.
"Whatever it is, it's coming fast." Matt looked worried.
"Coming fast? It approaches like a hailstorm!" Fadecourt said.
Yverne turned pale. "I mislike that sound, Lord Wizard."
"Oh?" Matt looked up. "Ever heard it before?"
"Aye—as a child. A sorcerer of the king's came to reside at my father's castle for a short space—a reeve, he was, a common-born popinjay." Her eyes dewed at the memory of her father. "To awe my parent, he brought to life a gargoyle from our roof. It sounded much like this, as it moved its stony limbs and clashed its iron jaws."
Matt caught an echo of some more ominous event underscoring her words and wondered if the reeve's visit had eventually resulted in the siege that had just ended. But he had to file it away for a better moment. "If that's a gargoyle, then there's more than one. "
"I doubt it not." Fadecourt was grim. "I have heard that King Gordogrosso has raised these beasts before, to track and shred enemies of whom he particularly wished to be rid."
"Congratulations, Wizard," Narlh growled. "You've been noticed."
"This time, I think I could do without the approbation. What are we standing around waiting for, people? Run!"
They turned and started back the way they'd come, but the gnashing and grinding grew louder behind them.
"To where...do we...run?" Fadecourt panted.
"You...tell me!" Matt wheezed. "You're the...military! Where...can we...hole up?"
"Nowhere," the cyclops answered, with instant certainty. "There's naught of...a stronghold, nor even...a good battle ground, between us and the grotto!"
"The grotto!" Matt cried. "You told me...nothing evil could...enter there! At least...it couldn't when...Gordogrosso's henchmen...tried to defile it!"
"Can it...hold 'gainst...them?" Fadecourt panted.
"It's the only chance...we've got! Shut up and...run!"
But Narlh slowed to a stop. "Here, you little guys will never make it! I can carry triple, for that far at least! Come on, up!"
Matt started to protest, but Fadecourt was already up and yanking Yverne aboard. Matt shut up and scrambled for a seat, grabbed at a fin, and held tight as the monster leaped forward into a run. Matt leaned into the wind and hoped.
The distance that had taken them six hours to traverse at a walk sped past them at Narlh's gargantuan pace. The wind howled by Matt's face, and he realized that he'd never seen the dracogriff run flat out before. Even so, the grinding and gnashing swelled behind them, faster than they could travel.
"This is too slow!" Narlh snapped. "Hang on—I hate it, but I'm gonna have to get off the ground."
They hung on for dear life as the dracogriff spread his wings and bounded into the air. He flapped mightily, straining upward, farther and farther, griping savagely every second, until, about fifty feet up, he caught a breeze and began to glide. Then he swooped eastward so fast that the clamor behind them actually began to fade a little—but not much. Peering over Fadecourt, Matt could see Yverne's back, rigid and trembling. He didn't doubt she had her eyes squeezed shut, but she hung on without a word of protest. Could he do any less?
Then the double hills rose up before them, and Yverne cried, " 'Tis yon! The grotto!"