"My lord?" asked his senior lieutenant. "Are you well?"
Omril's cohort waited expectantly, still shocked that their citadel was under attack. Many chafed to ride on. When the wizard had first called a halt in order to send his eyes to his pigeons, the junior lieutenant had begged to split the group and ride ahead. Omril had refused.
The wizard stood. He would not play a losing game. By the time he returned to the keep, the rebels might be in control, if they were not already. He might still win the day, but it would be a struggle, perhaps even a risk of his life. Time to regroup. He would save his counterattack for a better day, when he had more men behind him, when he could shape the situation to his advantage.
The garrison at Yent was the nearest source of reinforcements. That was where he would go. He gave the order.
The lieutenant was startled. "What of Lord Puriel?"
"Time for a new governor," Omril replied.
Owl lifted a blanket from a villager who had just died of his wounds, and carried it a short distance to another who still could make use of it. The wool weighed heavily in his grip. How could he be so tired that a single blanket would seem like such a burden? The man he tended shivered violently; the added covering seemed not to help. Owl had little doubt that soon he would be free to move the blanket again, as well as the one beneath it.
The tavernmaster stretched, popping his spine. The crowded barracks, where most of the wounded had been moved from the courtyard in the past few hours, had grown lighter. One of the nurses extinguished a lantern. Dawn.
The Elandri prince still worked, as he had done ever since he had emerged from the keep. He seemed to know which of the injured had a chance, and which did not, and concentrated on the former. He set bones, stanched bleeding that had thwarted the ministrations of others, relieved pain with powders, potions, and even the pressure of his fingers on certain places. Whenever not busy with their own efforts, Owl and the others watched in awe. And yet, for all his skill, Alemar did not seem to be using his legendary magic. The rumors must be true, Owl thought. The prince had lost his power. Fortunately, he was a fine physician even without it.
As if the new day were the cue he had been waiting for, Alemar abruptly left the barracks. Owl, seeing that there was nothing to be done for the patients at that moment, followed.
Alemar walked to the center of the courtyard, stopped, and gazed up at the wizard's tower. A faint wisp of smoke still spiraled from the gutted upper chamber. No one had tried to put the fire out, as it had not threatened the rest of the structure. Only now had it spent itself.
The castle had been secured, the drawbridge raised. The stronghold of the Dragon's forces had now become the stronghold of the rebels. Even those villagers who had not participated in any part of the battle now crowded within its walls. Anticipation and worry hovered in the air, palpitating Owl's skin with bony fingers. He followed Alemar up the stairs to the battlement to join the horde who waited above, nervously scanning the landscape outside the main walls. The princess stood there also, straight and intimidating in spite of her small stature.
"No sign yet?" Alemar asked his sister.
"None. Some of the scouts should be returning soon."
Owl was puzzled. What had happened to the little people, who had helped so much early in the fight? Surely they would keep track of Omril's position for the twins. Suddenly afraid, Owl realized that the wizard, with a full cohort, could be out there in complete concealment, waiting for the best moment to strike, able to raze the village while the residents hid behind the fortress walls.
Achird rose two handbreadths above the treeline. A scout jogged up to the moat and gave the password. In response the drawbridge lowered, and the man climbed up to report to the prince and princess.
"The wizard has taken the road to Yent!" the scout announced triumphantly. "He's running away!"
Owl expelled a breath he had not realized he had been holding. Wood spirits be blessed; they had won! A shout ran through the assemblage, down the stairs, into the keep. It took some time for the tavernmaster to notice that the twins, though relieved, were far from elated.
"He's going to rendezvous with the garrison there," Elenya said ominously.
Owl's smile faded. They could have held off a cohort of men, given the protection of the castle, but if the wizard gathered reinforcements…
"It will be a few days before he can mount an attack," Alemar said, to everyone within hearing range. "Spread the word to abandon the castle."
"My lord?" asked the man nearest him.
"The forest is a better hiding place."
The news spread, and suddenly the grounds crawled with movement. Those who had been repairing the damaged fortress defenses abandoned their work, and began systematic looting. They piled armor, weapons, gold, iron, and food in the central courtyard. Anything that could be moved was moved, until only bare stone walls and thick beams were left.
Owl started as the prince approached him and said, "These spoils will need to be distributed among the villagers. I propose an equal share for every man, woman, and child. Will you help see that this is done?"
Owl widened his eyes and stammered, "Of course, my lord. The elders and I will see to it. Aren't you taking any?"
"A little. But only what can be carried with us on the run. More would only hinder us. Better to let it go to the many, especially the armor, where it can be hidden until future need."
The tavernmaster nodded vigorously, but before he could engage the prince in further conversation, the latter marched off toward the keep.
The climb up Omril's tower seemed unusually long, at least three times as many steps as it had been coming down. Some of the men Alemar had killed still lay curled in postures of death. The stench of cooked flesh choked him as he reached the landing.
Little was left of Omril's sanctum save piles of charred wood and hardened pools of molten metal. His boot dislodged a piece of smoldering bone. He tested the floor, and tiptoed gingerly out to the balcony.
Cinders and fine soot coated the balustrade. He ran a finger across the stone, and held up the blackened tip. No trace remained of the four rythni, only ash, smoothly laid down.
At mid-morning, Owl was helping load a cart with sacks of goodroot from the castle larder when a pair of burly rebels dragged a gaunt, greybearded man into the courtyard. "Let me go!" the man growled imperiously, but his captors merely laughed. They led him before the twins.
"We found this hiding in the dungeons."
"My lord governor," Elenya said, affecting a bow. Puriel bit back another outburst. Elenya, though she had cleaned away some of the vestiges of the battle, was still a sight to stop hearts cold. His mouth fell into a palsy. Several people next to Owl called out for the governor's death.
"I don't think they like you," Elenya said.
"The Dragon will have your heads for this," he promised.
"Perhaps," Alemar replied. "But not in time to save you."
Puriel started to reply, then swallowed it.
Elenya drew her rapier. "Shall I be quick?" she asked her brother.
Alemar pursed his lips. "No, I think slow would be better. Like Milec."
Puriel sagged and would have hit the ground had his captors not held him by the scruff of his nightgown. Even Owl, who had nothing to fear, shuddered.
"I have just the thing for you," Elenya said, sheathing her blade. As if according to plan, one of her compatriots produced a harness, which she fitted around Puriel's torso. She tied a rope to it and fastened the other end to her saddle.