A Mankind Witch (33 page)

Manfred picked them up as he staggered out. Heavy iron things, they must have weighed thirty pounds. They'd been intended for torturing something large. "Close the cell door," she ordered. They followed her to the open stone door. Up the passage was fire and, unless Manfred's eyes deceived him, a troll hanging by one foot, yelling and struggling. "Up the stair. This way." She hauled at them to go the opposite direction, to the stairs where the mockers had stood, just as the troll-warder managed to break free and fall with a crash to the floor of the passage. They hadn't been quick enough. He'd seen them. With a roar he charged after his escaping prisoners.

Manfred hit him with all his strength—which was considerable—with thirty pounds of long-handled iron tongs. He bent the tongs to a forty-five degree angle on the troll's head, and dropped them from his stung hands.

The troll looked puzzled. And then slowly swayed and fell over.

"Cair wants him inside the dungeon, and the door locked," said their rescuer. She was already dragging at five hundred pounds of inert troll—a shrimp hauling a whale. "Come on."

Manfred grinned and grabbed troll feet. "I thought you said she was a mousy little thing, Erik?"

"That was you," said Erik, hauling the other side. "And where is Cair, Princess?"

WOOOMPH!

A huge explosion drowned the end of his last word.

At a brisk trot, out of a fog of steam, came Cair. Steam and pandemonium seemed to be filling the air. He grabbed the troll's arm and helped to haul it the last few yards. Signy locked the door, and Cair reached into a bundle tied behind his back. "You'll run faster with these." He pulled out two pairs of boots. "See if you can get your feet into them. I stole all of them trying to find a pair big enough for you, Prince."

He cocked his head, listening. "And then we must move. We're running behind."

Manfred struggled with the boots and swollen feet. "No good, I'm afraid I won't be running at all."

"Up on my back," said Erik.

Manfred blinked. "Don't be crazy, Erik."

"Do it, Manfred," commanded Erik, "or I'll slug you and have Cair tie you there. I am sworn to defend you."

"I do have horses arranged," said Cair. "We just have to get you there. Up on his back, Prince Manfred. Rather on his back than mine."

Manfred did as he was bid. "Well, I'm lighter than I used to be," he said from his piggyback perch, grinning despite the situation.

"Not enough," panted Erik.

"We can walk once we are in the outer ring," said Cair.

"Hope it's close," grunted Erik.

It was. "I feel sorry for your horse," said Erik, setting Manfred down. "I always have, but now I . . ." Pant. "Understand it at a whole new level."

"Talk later," said Cair, beckoning them onward impatiently. "We have to get to the horses. One is a good eighteen hands at the shoulder."

They made as good a speed as possible with Manfred limping manfully up the passage. Cair led. He carried one of the crude lamps in one hand and a bottle with a wick in the other. Having had one experience with the man's homemade grenades, Manfred didn't feel he needed to meet up with them again.

"What did you do back there?" asked Erik.

"Dropped an explosive down into the water-heating system," said Cair. "They're on a hot spring and they use the steam for raising the hilltop. It won't go up anymore. Not for a long time anyway."

"He's quite mad, you know," said Manfred conversationally, to Signy.

"He's not!" she said defensively. "He's a very, very good thrall. How can you say that when he came all this way with you to get me? I didn't know that it was you in particular that he was going to rescue, or I would have told him to leave you. I'm not a witch!"

"Hush. Patrol coming this way," said Cair. "Use the key to open the door there, Princess."

Signy hastily did, and they ducked inside. It was simply a storeroom, and they waited in silence until the trolls had passed.

"With any luck they might still think it was a natural disaster," said Cair. "That's why I wanted it to look as if you might still be in your cells and in your cage, Princess. Come. This way."

He led them on into a stable. And their first encounter with a human. Cair held up a hand, saving the thrall from Erik. "Helgi. You can either come with us or I will tie you up. We're going back to the lands of men."

The thrall looked at them in terror. "Go. Me? No. Hel . . ."

Erik had his hand over the man's mouth. "You have rope?"

Cair produced some thick twine from a pocket, and they bound the wide-eyed thrall, and gagged him. "I would have thought that you'd have killed him," said Erik.

"Likewise," said Cair, digging in the hay. "Saddle up, gentlemen. Halters on the extra steeds. We're taking all of them." He turned to the bound thrall. "Best I do hit you, Helgi. Then you can say that you tried to give the alarm," and he hit him with neatly calculated force.

He handed Erik a roll of material. "Bandage the prince's feet."

Erik shook his head in amazement. "You think of everything, don't you?"

"I try," said Cair. "Life is like a complex game of chess. You can't guess quite all the moves. You will find cloaks and weapons, with the saddlebags. I have a bow for you, Princess."

A few minutes later they were leading the horses down the passage to the small portal.

And at the stone door things finally came adrift.

There was no keyhole for Cair's key-to-all-things.

"She said a word to make it close," offered Manfred, trying to remember. "Ah.
Fjalarr
 . . . something."

"
Fjalarr fleggr
," supplied Erik.

"A password, probably," said Cair looking around, tapping the wall suspiciously.

"
Fjalarr fleggr
just means 'hide trolls,'" said Signy. "Maybe you just have to tell it what to do."

Erik shrugged. Said, "Open door."

Nothing happened.

"Maybe you have to say 'door open,' or some other way," offered Signy. "I wish it would," she said anxiously.

And the stone door creaked open.

They stared at it. Manfred recovered his wits first. "Right. Into the saddle and ride," he said, cheerfully.

Erik held up a hand. "There is bound to be a watchman . . . We got rid of the stone-troll, but there is bound to be something else."

"Right," said Cair. "I will have a look . . ."

"Let me," said Erik. "I, uh, know what to look for this time." He peered out of the doorway. "There is a troll sitting a few yards off," he said, quietly. "I'll distract him, the rest of you ride. At least it is nothing like the stone-troll."

"I'll just block the pursuit for a bit," said Cair. He produced a large clay container, which had a candle attached to the wick. The wick to the clay bomb had been inserted part way down the candle, providing a crude timer. He lit it from the lamp, and placed on the stone door lintel.

Erik looked suspiciously at it. "Let's go, gentlemen, lady. I don't trust that device. I'd rather risk a troll."

They were all mounted, and Cair leaned over so that he could reach the lamp. "I intend to toss this grenade at the troll," he said "Your horses may panic. Hold tight. On the count of three. One and two and three . . ."

And then they were out on the hill slope, urging the horses to run while the watch-troll stirred into bellowing wakefulness. Cair flung his hissing and fizzing grenade.

And then there was no need to urge the horses at all. It was a good thing that all of them were better than average riders.

He rode exceptionally well for a thrall, thought Signy. Not as well as the other two—the tall angular blond Icelandic Ritter rode as if he were an extension of the horse, and the big Frankish one had plainly spent a great deal of time in the saddle. But her thrall had a seat that a fair number of Norse nobility—and most of her half-brother's bodyguard—would have envied. He also, to her shock, had belted on a sword. A trusted thrall might get permitted a belt-knife. Indeed, she'd offered him hers, and there was no question that he'd earned it. But a sword? A fair number of people at the court would have killed him then and there, and Hel take the consequences. But, she had to admit to herself, right now she was glad to have him with her, although the sword was an affront. The Franks she'd freed had been among those who had accused her of stealing the arm-ring of Telemark. True, they were all in the same leaky boat right now.

She pulled her horse in next to Cair. "I have to ask. Who gave you permission to carry steel, Cair?"

For an instant he looked startled. Then he smiled. "It's merely a disguise, Princess. Franks have no respect for someone who doesn't carry one."

"Oh? Their thralls carry edged steel?"

"In war they even allow their serfs to fight," he explained. "A great man needs many people to die with him. Ask the Ritters. Of course I'll throw it away if you wish me to."

She looked at the two knights. Well, it was well known that the Franks were degenerate. "Very well. But you'll have to take it off when we get back among civilized people again."

He smiled. "I look forward to the day when I am among civilized people again."

Somehow she got the feeling he was laughing. He had a bad habit of doing so.

Some hours later they halted at a stream to let the horses drink. "Are they still behind us, Erik?" asked Manfred, tiredly.

Erik peered. He was worried, firstly by the situation and secondly that Manfred should sound tired. The boy had stamina. "I can't see clearly. I think so. This light doesn't make it any easier."

"There are still seventeen of them," said Signy, peering into the murky distance.

Manfred rolled his eyes and grimaced. "Don't they ever give up?"

"Not easily, anyhow," said Erik, grimly.

Cair dismounted. "We have enough of a lead to rest for a few minutes and discuss strategy. To my shame I have planned little but getting us away from that place."

"The frightening thing is I think he really means it," said Manfred. "Help me down here, Erik. I don't want to land on these feet of mine."

Erik helped him down, and Manfred began to unwind his bandages. His feet were indeed a mess. Cut, swollen, purple in places, red and yellow in others. Several of the wounds had begun to go septic and were oozing.

Signy took one look at them, and said, "Cair, do we have time to boil water?"

Cair shook his head. "No, Princess. We need to lose the pursuit first."

"Then have you got any alcohol?" she asked, stepping over to the stream and picking broad leaves, crushing them as she spoke.

Cair dug into a pack. "It was among the things I relieved those fake bears of, Princess." He hauled out a small metal flask. Opened it, and smelled it. Caraway and raw alcohol assaulted everyone's nostrils.

"Good," said Signy. "I will need it for his feet."

"I'd rather put it inside me than outside," said Manfred reaching hopefully. Signy took the flask instead, giving him a dirty look. "You are getting enough poisons in your system," she said sternly. "Look." She pointed to a red line of inflammation creeping up his leg. "You are getting blood poisoning from this. I will need clean cloths, Cair."

Erik noticed that Cair was smiling as he dug in a saddle bag. The edge of the fake thrall's worry had at least been eased. Erik was having to reassess his opinions of the man. He had, after all, rescued them. And he'd treated the thrall in the stable gently—relatively speaking. Still, something about him made Erik's bodyguard instincts prickle. "How did you get all this gear from the
björnhednar
, Cair?" he asked, casually.

Cair grinned evilly, as he handed a piece of fabric to the princess. "They were drunk and I locked them into the sauna. I wedged the inner door and locked the outer one. Good solid doors. When—or if—they get out, they won't be doing anything for a long time."

Saunas were very popular in Iceland. Some even made use of steam from natural vents. "I . . . don't think I want you as an enemy, Cair," said Erik, blanching.

"What are you doing, woman?" asked Manfred warily, and not without reason. She had slipped a very workmanlike dagger from her sleeve, and was wiping it with alcohol.

"I need to open those cuts up, and clean them out. This will hurt," she said with perfect equanimity. "Keep still."

Manfred looked warily at the knife. "Uh. Can't you just use magic?"

Signy pointed the knife at him. "I am
not
a witch. I wish I could do any magic! Do you think that I would need my thrall to come and rescue me if I was a witch? You're a fool. I would have used magic to drive you all away, if I had had any. I would have made
you
into a mouse for insulting me. I wish we'd left you for the troll-queen to give to Jagellion. Now hold still. Try and behave like a man."

"She's the best horse-doctor at Kingshall, Prince Manfred," said Cair, his lips twitching.

She looked up at him. "Maybe you'd better cut, Cair." She frowned fiercely at Manfred. "He may be a thrall, but he has good steady hands. He sees better than I do. And I trust him with my horses." It was apparent from her tone that no higher compliment could be paid.

Erik mulled over this outburst as Cair opened several infected cuts as neatly as any surgeon, or the Emperor's new carving steward, de Massibugo. Signy washed them out with the caraway-scented firewater, and then put the crumpled coltsfoot leaves on Manfred's feet. "We will have to rebandage them with the same bandages, Princess," said Cair. Obviously that would not have been acceptable for one of her horses.

She wrinkled her nose and squinted at them. Shrugged. "It will just have to do, Cair. We'll boil and wash them at the first chance we get. I want to see if I can find some black snakeroot to bathe those feet in, too."

Cair was a proficient bandager, as well as his other accomplishments. Erik noted that the delay had let the pursuing trolls get closer. And she was right. There were seventeen of them.

Manfred stood up gingerly. He bowed to her as she cleaned her knife and slipped it back into her sleeve-sheath with un-princess-like proficiency. "Princess. I owe you my thanks," he said formally, and respectfully. "They feel, well, not too good, but better than they did before. My gratitude to you and your man. I apologize for some of my remarks. You've shamed me. I said things in jest that weren't funny. We thought you were a quiet woman. A mouse. I was wrong." He smiled. "You'll pardon my saying so, but you're more like a lion than a mouse. You might have wanted to leave us behind, but I'd rather have a physician and courageous lady like you with us than half a dozen knights. I was mistaken. I apologize."