“Whose? Why, Lord Kern’s, of course.”
Rod and Gwen both stared.
Then Rod said slowly, “Does Duke Foidin know about this?”
“Aye. A troop of his men doth race hotfoot to seize the child—though, knowing Redcap’s repute, I misdoubt me that they make quite so much speed as they might.”
“I don’t blame ‘em,” Rod said grimly. “But if they succeed, Foidin will have the best hostage he could hope for. He might even be able to make Kern surrender. Who told Foidin about the kidnapping?”
“Eorl Theofrin, who knew from a gazing-crystal, belike.”
“Theofrin?” Rod frowned. “Why would he suddenly be helping the Duke?”
“For the enmity he bears thee.” The Merrow grinned.
Rod just watched him for a minute, trying to figure it out. Then he gave up. “All right, I’ll ask the obvious question: How does telling Foidin about the kidnapping help Theofrin hurt me?”
The Merrow spread his hands. “I know not, milord.”
“ ‘Tis a trap, mine husband,” Gwen said softly.
Rod nodded. “They must be figuring we’ll run to the kid’s rescue—and they’re right. Then the troops come in, and capture the kid with us. Well, I think we can have a little surprise waiting for them.”
“But do we guess aright?”
“We’ll know when we get there.” Rod slapped his scabbard. “If we see a battle in progress when we get there, we’ve guessed wrong—in which case, we’ll puzzle it out later. Did the Grand Duchess say where Redcap’s hiding?”
“Aye.” The Merrow nodded. “He ha’ found an auld tower, at Dun Kap Weir.”
“Yonder.” Elidor pointed down at a ruined tower atop a mound in the middle of a plain. “ ‘Tis Dun Kap Weir. Foul deeds were done there, long years ago.”
“Of course.” Rod smiled sardonically. “What other kind of lair would Redcap choose? I don’t like this coming east again, back into the Duke’s country.”
“We are warned against his troops,” Gwen reminded him. “Hai! They are there!”
Rod peered down over her shoulder, at a battle raging in front of the tower. A dozen foot soldiers fought frantically, shouting, pikes flashing in the early sunlight. Underneath their clamor was roaring.
“I guess they weren’t planning to ambush us,” Rod mused.
Suddenly, two men went flying. They hit twenty feet downslope and lay still, among a score of their fellows.
“What a fighter!” Rod shook his head in admiration. “Redcap against thirty soldiers, alone! Too bad he’s on the wrong side…”
“Do not think of converting him,” Gwen said grimly.
Five more soldiers went flying. The rest drew back, leaving an open half-circle; for a moment, the stunted ogre stood at bay, facing his enemies.
Then he whirled up his pike and charged them, bellowing. They howled in fear and ran. Redcap followed them to the brow of the hill and stood, glowering down, breathing heavily, watching as they tripped over their fallen comrades and went rolling, scrambling back to their feet, then running on down the hill and over the meadow to the shelter of nearby trees.
Redcap tossed his head and turned back to his tower.
“What do we do now?” Father Al asked.
“Let me.” Magnus suddenly disappeared.
“Magnus—NO!” Rod and Gwen shouted together, and the broomstick went into a power dive.
Redcap whirled, looking up at the shout—so they had a great view as Magnus appeared in front of the monster, holding up its missing tooth. Redcap just stared at it, frozen, wide-eyed. Then he began to tremble.
“My father comes, with the priest,” Magnus warned. “Begone, foul monster, and never come near human places again!”
Redcap threw back his head with a shriek of dismay, and disappeared.
Cordelia shot past Gwen on her broomstick, and darted through the tower doorway.
“Cordelia! Thou knowest not what may dwell there!” Gwen cried, and shot after her.
Rod leaped off five feet above ground and landed running. He jumped up against the side of the tower to brake his momentum, and rebounded to face his son.
Magnus was calmly picking up something from the spot where Redcap had been standing. He held it up for his father to see—another long, nicked tooth.
“Well—it worked out okay.” Rod stepped up to his boy and caught him against his hip in a bruising hug. “But don’t do something like that again, son—please! I could swear you took five years off my life, and your mother’s! What would’ve happened if you’d been wrong? If the sight of his own tooth hadn’t banished him?”
“But it did,” Magnus’s voice said, muffled.
Rod sighed. “And I’ll admit, I’ll never question your hunches—but couldn’t you learn to?”
Cordelia appeared in the tower doorway. “Papa! Come quickly!”
Rod ran.
He braked to a halt beside Gwen, saw an infant wrapped in her arms. He sighed and relaxed, the ebb of adrenalin leaving him weak. “This is an emergency?”
She turned an unfocused, faraway gaze up to him. “ ‘Tis Gregory.”
Rod stared down at the baby. Dark hair, big grey eyes—and that look. That solemn, solemn look. “But—it can’t be! Not here!”
But it made sense—almost. If someone had thrown Gregory through the Gate, Redcap would have sensed he was Rod and Gwen’s baby, and have gone after him in revenge!
“The child is not.” Gwen’s voice was remote. “ ‘Tis almost more like him than himself—yet ‘tis not him; I would know.”
“Then what…?”
“His thoughts.” Her eyes searched for his face, but stayed far away. “This child carries Gregory’s thoughts.”
Of course! That was why they’d been able to hear Gregory’s thoughts twice before—and why the second contact was clearer; they been further northwest, closer to this child!
“It could happen,” Father Al said quietly. “In another universe, there could be a child that exactly corresponds to your own. And your Gregory has been searching, yearning outward, achingly, with every iota of his tiny strength—enough for his thoughts to resonate through another mind, exactly like his own. Then, once this child was stolen from his parents, his mind would do the same—and their thoughts would meld, so that Gregory’s would become much more clear.”
“So their minds form a link between universes?”
Father Al nodded. “If the two individuals are analogs of one another.”
“Words come,” Gwen said suddenly. “ ‘Tis Fess… ‘… attempted to turn off the transmitter and close the Gate, but I prevented them, and remanded them to King Tuan; they are in his prison. They admit to being futurian anarchists, but nothing more; and King Tuan, in accordance with your joint policies, continues to resist Queen Catharine’s insistence on using torture. Brom O’Berin summoned Yorick…’ ”
Father Al started.
Rod cocked an eyebrow at him.
“ ‘… Yorick, who identified the device as not being a time machine, and brought Dr. McAran, who tentatively identifies it as a mechanism allowing travel between alternate universes. He is currently working at fever-pitch, attempting to construct such a device of his own. He attempted to dismantle this one, but I would not permit him to turn it off. So, if you can endure, help should be forthcoming—eventually. Meanwhile, in your absence, the Church and Crown have moved toward war. The Abbot has issued a formal declaration that the Crown encroaches so far upon the authority of the Church that all folk of good conscience should resist their King and Queen as tyrants. He has absolved the barons from their oaths of fealty, and summoned them to attack Their Majesties in force. Four Southern barons have answered his call, with all their knights and men. Three Northern lords have brought their armies to Tuan. The other five lords claim the conflict is no concern of theirs, but is only between the Church and Crown; they therefore stand neutral.’ ”