"I'm coming in," he said. His tone brooked no argument and Malkallam shrugged.
"As you wish. But you brought him here, after all. It's a little late to start worrying that I might harm him somehow."
"I'm not worried about that," Xander said stiffly. "I'm just…" He trailed off.
Malkallam waited expectantly, urging him to finish. When he didn't, the sorcerer finished for him: "… worried that I might harm him somehow."
Xander shrugged. It was exactly what he did think, but he realized it wasn't politic to say so when he was asking the sorcerer's help.
"Just remember, I'll be watching you," he said awkwardly. His hand dropped to the dagger at his side but he was all too obviously a man who was unaccustomed to using weapons. Malkallam smiled at him.
"I'm sure your master would be proud of you. If I decide to do anything terrible to him, I'll have to turn you into a newt before I do so."
Xander studied him suspiciously for a few seconds, then decided that he was probably joking. Probably. Without another word, he followed Malkallam inside.
Will sat on the bench and leaned his back gratefully against the rough log walls of the house. The sun was just beginning to sneak under the eaves of the house and it warmed his feet and legs as he stretched out. Suddenly, he was exhausted. The rapidly moving events of the day, the escape from the castle, the search for Malkallam's lair and the subsequent meeting with the sorcerer bad kept adrenaline coursing through his system. Now that there Was nothing further to do for the moment, he felt absolutely drained.
The other inhabitants of Malkallam's domain continued to watch him. He tried to ignore them, sensing no threat from them only curiosity.
He glanced up as he sensed a movement at the door. Trobar, the giant, came out of the house. He looked around the clearing, saw the dog lying watchfully where he had left her and moved to her side. He went down on one knee beside her and fondled her head gently. She closed her eyes blissfully and inclined her head for his touch.
"Dog!" said Will, a little more sharply than he had intended.
The dog's eyes opened and she was instantly alert. Will pointed to the verandah beside him.
"Come here," he said.
She rose and shook herself, then began to lope slowly across the clearing toward him. He looked at Trobar and saw the unmistakable sadness on the disfigured face.
"Oh, all right," he told the dog. "Stay where you are."
He saw the smile break out on the giant's face as the dog allowed herself to be patted once more. He shut his eyes wearily. He wondered what he was going to do about Alyss.
31
Alyss had heard the commotion in the courtyard below her window in the keep tower: shouts and horses' hoofbeats ringing off the cobbles. She had reached the window in time to see three horsemen galloping full pelt for the portcullis gate.
She recognized Will instantly and, even as she watched, she saw his snap shot that sent a crossbowman tumbling from the castle walls. Behind him rode two other men, one of them swaying in the saddle as if he were barely conscious. With a start of surprise, she recognized Orman.
What on earth was he doing? Obviously, from the way the guards had reacted, he was escaping from his own castle. Yet the very idea was ridiculous!
And Will was with him. She frowned. There was no sign that Will was acting under any duress. He was leading the way, in fact. For a moment she toyed with the possibility that Orman really was a black magician and had placed some kind of spell or compulsion on Will. Then she dismissed the thought. Like most educated people, she didn't really believe in sorcery or magic.
Yet what other explanation could there be?
She remained by the window and a few minutes later, a party of mounted men set out in pursuit. Her first instinct was to dress and hurry downstairs to find out what was going on. Then she stopped and sat down, fingers drumming on the table as she thought. Lady Gwendolyn wouldn't behave in such a fashion. Lady Gwendolyn was an empty-headed, self-obsessed twitterer who wouldn't take the slightest interest in anything that didn't involve new hairstyles, shoes or fashions.
She rose and moved to the door leading to the anteroom of her suite.
Her two maids were chatting quietly as they folded and put away a pile of freshly laundered clothes. Max was sitting in a corner, frowning over a manuscript. All three looked up in surprise at her sudden appearance.
She motioned impatiently for them to relax.
"Sit down, sit down," she said, perching on the arm of a chair. She continued: "Lord Orman and the jongleur Barton just rode out of the castle, pursued by an armed party."
The three looked at her in surprise. They might be servants, but they were privy to her real identity and mission. And they knew Will's real identity as well.
"Max, go down to the main hall and see what you can find out. Don't make it too obvious, just nose around and see what you can hear."
"Very good, my lady." He rose and moved to the door, picking up his soft feathered bonnet from a side table as he went. She could tell that the two maids were aching to ask her more. But she shook her head at them and returned to her chamber to wait for Max's report.
Time passed slowly. Painfully slowly. Max returned after an hour or so. His eavesdropping revealed no more than the facts that Alyss already knew. The castle was abuzz with the fact that, for some reason, Lord Orman, his secretary and the jongleur Barton had broken out and ridden away.
"Everyone else seems as puzzled as we are, my lady," Max told her. Alyss began pacing back and forth, deep in thought. Max, uncertain as to whether she wanted him to do anything more, coughed hesitantly.
"Will that be all, my lady?" he prompted, and she turned to him apologetically.
"Of course, Max. Thank you. You can go."
He had barely left her chamber when there was another knock.
"Come in," she called, and was surprised when the door opened to admit Sir Keren.
"Why, Sir Keren," she said, "what a delightful surprise! Won't you come on in!" Then, raising her voice, she called to the outer room, "Max, fetch us some wine, please! The good Gallic white, I think."
Outside, Max hurried to the side table to fetch the wine, while Keren came into the room, looking around, taking in the clutter of gowns, headpieces, makeup and shoes that Lady Gwendolyn surrounded herself with. Alyss indicated a chair by the fire.
"I'm sorry to bother you, Lady Gwendolyn," Keren began, "but I wondered if you heard a bit of a commotion an hour or so ago?"
"Why, as a matter of fact, so I did!" she said. "Horses galloping and men shouting. Who were they? Robbers? Or brigands, Perhaps?"
Keren was shaking his head sadly. "Worse than that, my lady. Far worse. I'm afraid they were traitors to the crown."
Alyss sat back, her mouth a perfect O of surprise. For a moment, she considered revealing her true identity and purpose to Keren. After all, he seemed like a solid type and she knew Will had been on the point of taking him into his confidence. But some instinct stopped her.
"Traitors, Sir Keren? Here in Macindaw? How terrifying! Is the castle safe?" she added the last question with a slight look of alarm on her face. Keren hurried to reassure her.
"Quite safe, my lady. We have everything under control. But I am afraid there is serious news. Lord Orman was one of them."
"Lord Orman?" she said.
Keren nodded somberly. "Apparently, he has been scheming to hand over the castle to a Scotti army before spring. And the jongleur Barton was working hand in glove with him."
"No. He's…" Alyss began before she could stop herself. But Keren interrupted her.