A Man Betrayed (76 page)

"I would like
to propose my own toast," she said, her voice high with emotion. "A
toast to my father. A man who would rather make a fool of himself by marrying a
woman half of his age than let his daughter keep her rightful place."

With that, she
swept her arm across the table, sending plates and cups flying.

Two unarmed guards,
whom Tawl had briefed earlier for just such a situation, came to lead her away.
She fought them off. "This marriage is a farce," she cried, wrestling
free of the first guard's grip. Her body became stiff and her eyes began to
cloud over. Her cheeks began to fill out as if she were holding her breath. The
hand that held the chair shook violently. The very air surrounding her seemed
to thicken. All of a sudden she composed herself.

Tawl, from his
position at the far side of Catherine, saw the reason why. Baralis had caught
and squeezed her hand, then whispered three words in her ear.

The effect the
words had on Catherine was dramatic. With great dignity, she pulled away from
the guards. "Unhand me," she said. "You forget who I am." A
withering gaze completed the reproof. Both men fell back immediately, not even
pausing to check with the duke. Head held high, back straight as a spear,
Catherine made her way across the hall. She exited through a side door.

When she was gone,
the court began to whisper uneasily.

Behind the
curtain, Tawl was nervous. His palm was wet around the knife. He had taken a
risk not coming forward the moment Catherine stood up. He had no wish to
humiliate her by leaping out of nowhere, brandishing his knife in her face. The
duke would not have approved. It would have looked as if he didn't trust his
own daughter. So he had stayed put, prepared to show himself only if Catherine
made a move toward Melli. Yet now, thinking about it, Tawl wasn't sure that she
hadn't.

Quickly he looked
over to Melli. She was sitting down. The duke was on one side of her, Maybor on
the other. She looked tired and a little shaky. As he watched, her father
poured her a cup of red wine. With little ceremony, she raised it to her lips
and downed it in one. Tawl smiled. Melli was her usual self.

Still, he had the
nagging feeling that something had nearly happened here. Something had passed
between Catherine and Baralis. A communication, a warning. And by the looks of
it, it had been promptly heeded. In the space of a few seconds, Catherine had
changed from a woman about to fall into an anger-driven trance to a
self-possessed lady of the court. What had Baralis said to her to bring about
such a change? And what would have happened if he had said nothing at all?

Tawl's mind
traveled back five years to the very first time he'd met Bevlin. That evening
was the only time the wiseman had ever spoken openly about sorcery to him.
"Yes,
there are those who still practice,"
he had said,
"most
think it would be better if they didn't. "
Was Catherine one of those?
Was Baralis? The night he fought the duke's champion, he had felt something
working against him, weakening his will, sapping his strength. Catherine had
been Blayze's lover. Had she used sorcery to aid his cause that night?

Tawl ran his
fingers through his hair. He couldn't be sure. All he had to go on was a
dangerously blank look in Catherine's eyes and his own intuition. It should
have been enough, though. Tawl was appalled at himself-ignorance was no excuse.
He should have gotten Melli out of there. To hell with humiliating Catherine!

He brought his eye
close to the slit once more. Melli was sitting at the head of the table. She
was putting on an excellent show: eating, drinking, laughing, flirting with
Lord Cravin whilst playfully reprimanding the duke about the lack of hot food.
She was very brave and very strong. After such an unpleasant incident, most
women would have run crying to their rooms. Not Melli. It would take more than
bitter words to crush her spirit. Tawl noticed that her left hand was absent
from view. Following the line of her arm down, he saw that under the table she
was grasping a very tight hold of her father's hand. Her knuckles were white
with the strain. Tawl became very still looking at the sight of Melli's small
pale hand. He would never forgive himself if anything happened to her.

As he withdrew
from the curtain, he noticed that Baralis was no longer in his seat. He hadn't
even seen him leave. Yet he could guess where he was headed. Satisfied that
Melli would be safe for a while, Tawl stole down along the corridor. Cutting
through the kitchens to the main gallery, he worked his way back toward the
hall. As he drew close to the main door, he noticed the black-robed figure of
Baralis heading off in the distance. Tawl followed him. The man knew the palace
like the back of his hand. Taking turnings Tawl had never noticed, climbing
staircases that were hidden by either curtains or shadows. Eventually they came
to part of the palace Tawl recognized: the ladies' quarters. He watched from a
stone recess as Baralis approached a set of bronzecovered double doors. He did
not have to knock. The doors swung back and Catherine stood waiting. Hair loose
and wearing a gown that revealed her naked shoulders, she beckoned Baralis to
enter.

Tawl turned as the
door closed behind them. With a heavy step, he made his way back to the great
hall. In the morning, when the duke summoned him to give his account of the
evening, what should he say? He took a deep breath and was slow to let it out.
How could he tell the duke that his greatest enemy might turn out to be his own
daughter?

For two days now,
Jack had been walking across land that was both more populated and less flat.
He was not happy about either. Walking downhill was fine; sometimes he even
broke into a run, but uphill ... Jack shook his head. Uphill was an entirely
different matter. His thighs were sore, his knees were playing up, even his
ankles were acting strangely, refusing to allow his feet to pivot properly,
causing him pain with every step. If
he
were ever called upon to design
a world, it would be downhill all the way.

Jack's main
problem, however, was people. He just couldn't seem to avoid them any longer.
The roads were packed with them, the fields were full of them, and the woods
had grown so sparse that he was now forced to dash from tree to tree like a
spider in search of shade. The one certain way to attract attention, Jack had
discovered, was to run across fields in search of cover. He had been chased by
two farmers with pitchforks, one dog, and an entire flock of geese. The geese
were the worst, honking loudly and taking vicious pecks at his vitals. He'd
rather be attacked by a dog any day.

Hearing a cart
rattling by, Jack dived to the ground. He was just off a large road that was
hedged on either side by bushes and bracken. Instead of carrying on, the cart
lurched to a slow stop. Jack drew in his breath. Had the driver spotted him?
Body flat against the ground, Jack lay as still as he could manage. He heard
the soft pad of feet in the dirt, and then the bushes next to him began to
move. They continued to rustle for some time. Jack assumed that the driver was
relieving himself and so decided to stay put. Just when the rustling stopped, and
he felt safe to release his breath, the bushes parted and a man stepped
through. He had a basket in one hand and a scythe in the other. Seeing Jack, he
stopped in his tracks.

Up came the
scythe. "Young man," he said, in a pleasant, lilting voice, "if
your intention is to rob me, I warn you now that I have nothing but herbs in my
basket. And nothing but mushrooms in my cart." He smiled brightly.
"Poisonous ones, at that."

Stunned, Jack
stayed exactly where he was. The scythe was just about the deadliest-looking
thing he had ever seen. The man noted what he was looking at. "For the
herbs, you know."

Jack decided to
speak. "Sir, I am sorry to catch you unawares. I didn't mean to frighten
you." He tried to keep his words muffled to disguise where he came from.

The man smiled
more broadly than ever. He was of middle height and had shoulder-length gray
hair. Not exactly old, yet past middle age. With a casual gesture, he hooked
the scythe onto his belt. "First of all, young man, you did not surprise
me in the least; secondly, as I've been aware of your presence since before I
stopped my cart, you most definitely did not catch me unawares."

Jack risked
sitting up. He brushed the dirt from his face and chest. "You saw me duck
into the bushes?"

The man raised his
hand to his clean-shaven chin. "You could say that." From his chin,
his hand sprang forward. "I'm Stillfox, pleased to meet you."

Gingerly, Jack
took the proffered hand. With a grip as firm as a man half his age, he heaved
Jack off the ground. "Find any interesting herbs while you were down
there?" Stillfox asked, eyes twinkling.

Jack shrugged.

He lifted his hand
up and examined his palm. "Of course you didn't. What would a lad from the
kingdoms know about Annis herbs, eh?"

Jack pulled back
his hand.

Stillfox laughed.
"Don't worry, I'm not a fortune-teller. Your palm didn't tell me that,
your accent did."

Feeling very
foolish, Jack mumbled his apologies. Too many things had happened for him to
take in at once. He could hardly believe he was in Annis, for one thing. Oh,
he'd seen the mountains looming up on the horizon for days now, but he'd paid
them little heed, thinking they were impossibly far away in the distance. For
the past two days the clouds had been so thick that he hadn't seen the
mountains at all. Had he really come that far? Or was it far at all? All the
time he'd stayed in Rovas' cottage, he had no idea where it lay in relation to
the rest of Halcus. He had been close to the border for months and not even
known it; yet another thing Tarissa had kept from him.

It made sense now:
the garrison was situated where it was-in what he had assumed to be the middle
of nowhere -to protect the Halcus-Annis border. Even Rovas' smuggling business
would benefit from closeness to the great trading center. "How far are we
from the city?" he asked. Stillfox was busy searching his basket. He
didn't look up. "Annis is twelve leagues to the east. A good morning's
ride, or a full day's walk." Pulling out some rather drylooking pieces of
bark, he cried, "Aha! I knew I had some."

"Some
what?"

"Willow bark
for your fever, and witch hazel to clean out your wound."

Jack's hand stole
to his chest. "But--"

"I can smell
the fester," said Stillfox, answering his question before he had even
asked it. "It needs seeing to, lad. It's a wonder you've got this
far."

"You don't
know how far I've come." Jack was surprised by the sharpness of his tone.
His thoughts were on the garrison. He had to be careful; he didn't want this
man knowing where he'd come from. Everyone in Annis must have heard about the
fire by now.

Stillfox smiled
briskly. "Perhaps not, but I do know where you're going."

Jack looked
directly into his eyes. He was older than he'd first thought. There were thick
bands of black around the blue of his irises. "Where am I going?" he
asked.

Stillfox blinked
once. "Home with me." It wasn't the answer he expected.
"Why?"

"You will not
come unless I tell you?"

"No."

Nodding heavily,
he said. "Very well. From the moment I put my cart on the road this
morning, I sensed your trail in the air. I simply urged my horse forward and
followed it here."

"What
trail?" Even as he asked, Jack knew he wouldn't like the answer.

"Sorcery,
lad." Gone was the brightness from Stillfox's face. "You are carrying
the vestiges of your last drawing along with you."

Jack knew the
color drained from his face, but could do nothing to stop it. He began to move
forward. "I don't know what you're talking about. It's time I moved
on."

Stillfox caught
his arm. His grip was not gentle. "Don't be a fool, lad. You need help,
and I'm offering to give it. It would be most unwise to turn me down." The
lilting tones had been replaced by a low and forceful voice.

Jack pulled
himself free. "And who are you to decide what's wise and unwise?"

Stillfox gave Jack
a hard look. "I'm someone who knows that Annis is crawling with Halcus
soldiers who are busy looking for the man who burned down their garrison."

Rovas had told
them where he was headed! Jack kicked at the dirt. Tarissa had asked him where
he was going, and he'd replied east. She could have guessed he would head to
the very place where they had planned to go together. Jack wondered how long it
had taken her to decide to tell Rovas.

Obviously not very
long, for the Halcus were now ahead of him.

Jack glanced
sideways at Stillfox. How could he be sure this man spoke the truth? And what
exactly did he know about the garrison? "I have nothing to fear from the
Halcus," he said.

"They have
posted descriptions of the man they're after all over the city. Tall, brown
haired, speaks with a kingdoms accent." Stillfox gave Jack a hard look.
"Annis and Halcus are very friendly at the moment-seems they'll soon be
fighting on the same side-and there's nothing Annis wouldn't do to help her
would-be ally. Nothing would delight her more than turning over a notorious war
criminal."

"War
criminal?" Jack didn't even bother to keep the surprise from his voice.

Stillfox nodded.
"Kylock has just reached Helch. The garrison that was destroyed was due to
send troops and supplies to aid the capital. But because all the provisions
were burned and so many men were injured, the transfer never went ahead. Some
are saying it was that one inspired act of sabotage that gave Kylock the edge.
I don't know if that's true or not, but one thing's certain: Helch will be
surrendering soon. Very soon."