The Fugitive Prince (Bell Mountain) (42 page)

“Who is this child,” someone asked, “who dares to say such things to warriors?”

“He’s brave,” said another man. “Look and see how he doesn’t tremble.”

“Boy king,” Xhama said, “we cannot decide such a great thing in a single day. For the time being, you must be our prisoner. Tonight, when we have made and fortified a camp, we’ll talk of this again.”

“I’ll go with you,” Ryons said: not that he had a choice. “Just don’t harm my dog.”

“We don’t make war against beasts,” said Xhama.

Ryons whistled sharply, and extended his arm, and Angel flew down to him. The Hosa raised their eyebrows.

“This hawk obeys you!” Xhama said. “As if you were truly a great chief!”

“Helki gave her to me,” Ryons said. Then, as Helki and Chagadai had taught him, he made a “tsk-tsk” noise with his tongue against his teeth, and Angel flew away.

“Why have you released your hawk?”

“To find Helki; and Helki will find you,” Ryons said. Xhama didn’t like that, but it was too late for him to do anything about it.

“Come!” he barked at his warriors. “We must go much farther before we camp, lest the Zamzu come and find us sleeping.”

Just before sundown Helki returned to the thicket. Ryons wasn’t there. Helki hadn’t expected to find him there: the signs left all over the neighborhood—broken twigs and trampled vines, with here and there a footprint—had already told him what to expect. The Hosa had stampeded, and they wound up here. But he was surprised when Angel shrieked and landed on his shoulder. The hawk nuzzled his ear, and he stroked her feathered breast.

“So the black men took our king, little sister!” he said. “It doesn’t look like they’ve done him any harm, and it seems Cavall went along without a fight. I don’t think they could’ve gotten too far ahead of us.”

These Hosa had no woodcraft at all, he thought. They kept blundering off the path—that was how they’d found the thicket—and a baker from the city could follow the track they made.

The rangers had all escaped from the enraged Zamzu who’d charged into the forest after them, and they were now making camp. Helki’s news dismayed them.

“What good have we done at all,” Andrus cried, “if the Heathen have taken the king?”

“They won’t be able to keep him,” Helki said.

“They’ll use him against us as a hostage.”

“That’s just what I’m afraid of. That’s why I’m going to go on ahead a ways and see what I can see. You boys rest for now, and follow me at first light.”

“We’re ready to follow you now!” Andrus said.

“No—you’re all young men, and you need your sleep,” Helki said. “Don’t pout! I reckon there’ll be plenty for all of you to do tomorrow.”

“And if they’ve killed our king?”

“Then none of them will get out of this forest alive,” said Helki.

Chapter 50

How Orth Regained His Memory

Gurun suddenly sat up in bed in the middle of the night, with words of prophecy ringing in her mind: “I shall set Ozias’ throne in Lintum Forest.”

Jandra spoke those words. Gurun heard them from Abgayle, weeks ago. Not knowing what it could mean, she sent messengers to pass it on to Obst, who’d left the city with the army. Since then she hadn’t given it a thought.

But now she knew the meaning of the prophecy.

“Oh, you fool, Gurun!” she scolded herself. “You should have listened to Gallgoid.”

Because she wasn’t truly a queen, but a freeman’s daughter from Fogo Island, it never occurred to her to ring for a servant and have someone haled out of bed so she could talk to him. But in the morning she would have to speak to Uduqu, and especially to Fnaa: because the prophecy changed everything. If only they could have understood it sooner!

When Sunfish woke in the morning, he found himself in a luxurious bed, looking up at a plastered ceiling nicely painted along its borders with curling vines in green and gilded arabesques. He was alone. A polished hardwood door shut off the room from the rest of the house. Beyond it he could hear muffled noises—footsteps up and down stairs, and back and forth, a persistent tapping as of a gently applied hammer, and furniture being moved about. Although finely woven curtains were drawn across the windows, the light of day was already strong enough to penetrate. He knew it couldn’t be earlier than mid-morning.

Beside his bed hung a soft bell-rope. Without pausing to wonder how he knew what it was for, he tugged it twice.

A minute later his door swung open and in came a lean, white-haired man in black livery.

“Good morning, my lord Prester—and may I say what a pleasure it is to see you here again. I thought it best to let you sleep.”

“Fergon. Yes, Fergon,” Sunfish said. Only now he knew his name wasn’t Sunfish. He was Orth, Prester Orth. He lay in his own bed, in his own house; and this was his butler, Fergon.

“How did I come to be here?” he asked.

“Preceptor Constan’s servants brought you here last night, my lord, after some of Prester Jod’s people made your room ready and fetched me. Some of your own servants have returned; and the house is full of workmen who are restoring it to its rightful condition. I dare say they’ll be finished by the end of this day. Meanwhile, you can have your breakfast if you want it. Enid is back in the kitchen, overjoyed by your return to us.”

Orth shook his head. “Not just yet, Fergon. I want to be alone for a while longer. I need to think! Open the curtains for me before you go.”

And so he stayed in bed, alone in the sunshine, as memories washed over him. He remembered being Sunfish, he remembered Hlah and May and the little village in the hills. But he also remembered being Orth; and those memories were not as pleasant.

Constan and Jod must have recognized him. That was why they’d brought him here. But they couldn’t have known, no one knew, how he’d come to leave Obann in the first place: he and Lord Reesh.

What had happened to Lord Reesh? Where was he? Orth didn’t know. He’d deserted Reesh’s party before it came anywhere near the mountains. He wondered if anyone knew what he and Reesh had done together. They didn’t know, he thought. Otherwise, they would not have returned him to his house.

Meanwhile, all he had to do was to look out the window to see that the city of Obann still stood, still prospered. He remembered Hlah saying the Thunder King’s vast army was destroyed and the city miraculously saved. So our treason, he thought, had been for nothing.

And yet God had spared him. Here he was.

Why?

Early in the afternoon, he rang again for Fergon.

“Bring me something to eat,” he said, “and send for Prester Jod and Preceptor Constan. There is something I must tell them.”

“And so you see,” said Gurun, “the king must rule Obann from Lintum Forest. That is the clear meaning of Jandra’s prophecy. That is why King Ryons himself departed secretly. There is no reason for us to stay here in this city.”

Fnaa, Uduqu, and Dakl listened intently. They sat in Gurun’s bedchamber with the door shut. Outside, Shingis the Blay and two of his warriors kept the hallway clear of eavesdroppers.

“Well,” Uduqu said, “do we leave the city now? And how do we do it?”

“I can’t go,” Fnaa said. “I have to hold King Ryons’ place for him.”

“But this city is not his place anymore,” said Gurun.

“Will Gallgoid help us again?” Uduqu said. “He went to a lot of trouble for us last time, and we let him down.”

“I have not yet been able to speak to him.”

“He’ll be mad at us,” Fnaa said. “Why don’t I just tell fat Merffin and his friends that they can’t come to the palace anymore?”

“They don’t need to come anymore,” Gurun said. “The palace is full of their spies. Sooner or later they will murder us.”

Dakl said nothing, just glanced back and forth from one face to another. Dread was in her eyes.

“This will take some thought,” Uduqu said, “and not the kind of thought I’m good at. We need Gallgoid.”

“It seems to me,” Gurun said, “that the sooner we leave the palace, the better. I would like to leave today.”

But none of them knew where they ought to go.

Sitting beside Orth’s bed, listening to him, questioning him, Jod and Constan missed their suppers. They didn’t notice, and evening gave way to night by the time Orth fell back to sleep and they left him.

The workmen were gone. The interior of the house looked like a prester’s home again. Having both been there before, Jod and Constan retired to Orth’s parlor and ordered the butler to ensure their privacy. They knew Fergon would strictly see to it. They settled in comfortable chairs, close to one another, and spoke in muted voices.

“Well?” Jod said. “Do you believe it?”

“I do.”

Jod shook his head. “I wish I didn’t! But the question is, what are we to do about it?”

“Accede to his wish,” said Constan. “Let him do what he says he has to do.”

The prester sighed. Anyone who didn’t know Constan would think he didn’t care; but Jod respected Constan’s judgment. The preceptor always said exactly what he meant, and said it simply.

“It’s dangerous,” Jod said. “It might start riots in the city. It might even bring about the end of religion in Obann, as we know it.”

“Maybe, as we know it, the time has come for it to end,” Constan said.

The prester smiled at him, warmly. “Preceptor,” he said, “I have never in my life been more afraid of anything than I am of this business!”