The Still (14 page)

“What will Uncle do?” I was sure our absence would send him into paroxysms of rage.

“He won’t be happy.”

A stab of fear chilled me. “I want to dress.” I climbed to my knees.

“I’ll be with you, my prince.”

Why did I gulp back tears? I took slow, deep breaths, willed away my panic as I groped for a robe. “Will Llewelyn beat you again, if you leave with me?”

“I think not.” He turned me around, fastened my sash. Then, unexpectedly, he drew my face close, kissed me softly on the forehead.

I froze. He gave sort of an embarrassed cough, turned to the window, hands clasped behind him.

I dressed quickly, wishing Rust would leave, answering his queries with little more than grunts, hoping he’d sense my unease. But his conversation was so casual, so natural, that slowly I began to relax.

At any rate, we had pressing business. In low tones we planned our journey. Rustin would go home for the night, satisfy his father as to his forthcoming absence. He’d pack saddlebags with gear for the two of us, leave them at Llewelyn’s keep, come back to the castle to be with me when Hester took Elryc. I knew I could never face that spectacle alone; my nerves were already at the point of breaking.

We’d wait, until that evening or the next day, so as not to throw suspicion on Hester by our sudden absence. Then we’d gallop after.

On our trip I’d have to wear Rust’s hand-me-downs; I wasn’t sure whether I’d gain permission to ride a horse down the hill, or have somehow to jump the wall under the noses of the guards, and either way, I couldn’t carry about conspicuous changes of clothing.

As evening approached I grew ever more nervous. “Must you go?”

“It would be best.” His calm licked me like a mother cat her kitten.

“What if your father doesn’t let you return?”

“He will. I’ll explain in private, and humor his needs.”

Reluctantly, I let him leave. As an afterthought, I gave him my purse, with most of the year’s stipend Willem had given me. Best Rust should have it, lest I lose it to Mar’s guards.

“You trust me with your coin?”

I grimaced. “You already have the key—” He clapped his hand over my mouth. I gulped, nodded. Instead of releasing me, he squeezed my lips into a fish’s gawp. “Do demons have your mind?
Think
before you speak!”

I pushed his hand away, without rancor. “Yes, Father.” It was an odd thing to say. My father, Josip, had died when I was nine, and I’d been raised without. Until now, I’d not felt the lack.

“Hah. Were I your father, I’d set you across ...” He shook his head. “Until tomorrow, my prince.” Impulsively, I squeezed his hand, brought it to my cheek. To my astonishment, his eyes teared, but he turned away before I could ask the matter.

D
URING THE NIGHT IT STORMED
. what with thunder, worry about Elryc, and an odd discomfort whenever I thought about Rustin, I barely slept. At first light I stumbled groggy out of bed, splashed water on my face, climbed into the nearest clothes. The day had a chill, welcome relief from the oppressive heat just past. I flung open my door.

On the bench a few steps down the corridor, a soldier dozed; I hurried past.

“Hold. Where go you, my lord?” Bleary, but alert, he got to his feet.

I frowned. It was Fostrow, the man who’d barred my way to Council, and later to my uncle’s chamber. “Breakfast. Upstairs. About the castle.” Who was he to question me?

Fostrow shook his head. “Let them bring your meal.”

“And seal my door, while they’re about it! Have you tested the bars on my window?” My voice seethed.

“Easy, my lord; I but do the Duke’s bidding.”

“Did he tell you to hold me within?” The man had heft, but I knew I could outrun him. Yet it would burn a bridge that later I might have need to cross.

“No, but I must come with you, where you go.” He took his shield from its resting place.

“Oh, for—nonsense. Look, I’ll run to the kitchen and visit Hester. It won’t take—”

“I can’t let you, alone. Particularly outside.”

I sighed, blinked away the last remnants of sleep. It was important to hold back my ire. “I’m the heir, and I depend on my Power. You’ve heard of the True? Good. I tell you True, I’ll go only about the castle. Breakfast first, and then upstairs; my old nurse is leaving service, and I would say good-bye. You have my word I won’t go out, until I’ve come back to get you. My True word.”

He hesitated.

“Fostrow, weren’t you ever young? Don’t make me go to breakfast with a nanny.”

As I’d hoped, it brought a smile. “My lord, I’ll trust you in this. Please, don’t do us both a wrong.” Gratefully, he sat, laid aside his shield.

“I’ll bring you fresh bread.” Before he could change his mind I loped down the stairs, wondering how I would manage a trip to the stables, to see what had become of Elryc. Obviously, I couldn’t visit with Uncle’s watcher in tow. At least I’d freed myself to find what Hester was up to. The Still had its uses, I realized, even before having the wield of it. Even a simpleton like Fostrow realized I wouldn’t risk its loss by being untrue.

Light rain beat a tattoo on the roof of the kitchen, and occasional drops sizzled in the hearth. I wolfed down a breakfast, hardly aware of its nature. What if Hester had already slipped out, telling no one her destination? The High Road through the mountains to Cumber had bypasses and trails aplenty; what if we lost her in its windings?

What if she meant to take Elryc for her own ends, or even meant him harm? Without Elryc, I’d have to face Uncle Mar alone, except for what little help Rust could provide.

A knot congealing in my stomach, I dashed up flight after flight to the nursery.

A housemaid slopped water in the corridor, mop in hand. “Watch your step, my lord!” Her tone was irked.

“Where’s Nurse gone?”

She rested her palm atop the mop handle. “No, it’s ‘When’s Nurse finally going?’ if you ask me. ‘Magret, bring me this. Have footmen bring my trunks from the second storeroom. Watch how you fold that robe, it’s older than you are.’ Fah!” An angry wipe. “She can’t be gone soon enough for me.”

“Magret!” The voice inside the door held a sharp edge. “Where’s the packet of dried foods Cook was to make ready?” The door whipped open. “Leave that confounded mopping and see to it! What do
you
want, you lout?” A glare, in my direction.

I peered past her shoulder. “Are you alone? Have you packed—”

“Get away from us!” She snatched the mop from the startled Magret, slapped water over my breeks. “Leave me be!”

A sympathetic eye from the housemaid was hardly of help. “I just came to say good-bye.” Now I sounded a supplicant.

“Good-bye, then. Think you I have time for such folderol, if I’m to be at Whiecliff Hamlet tonight, and past Seawatch Rock by morrow? Take your foolishness elsewhere!”

“Imps take your uncivil tongue, and addled head!” I stalked away, wet breeches swishing. “The sooner you’re gone, the happier we’ll all be.”

Her grating voice chased me to the steps. “I’ll miss my Pytor, and Elryc. Proper children were they!”

I stomped down the stairs, startling a houseman with my muttered curses. To think I’d trusted Elryc’s safety to that demented old crone. As soon as Rustin returned, we’d wrest my brother from her clutches.

I hadn’t even been allowed entry to her chambers, to say nothing of private speech. Did she expect me to ask our arrangements while a sullen servant girl took in every word?

I flung open the corridor gate, rousing the guard Fostrow. She’d booted me out like a child, with no hint where she’d concealed my brother, and worse, without agreement on where we were to meet, after. All I knew was that she would leave during light, and ... I stopped dead in my tracks.

“Is something amiss, Lord Rodrigo?”

“No. Sorry, I forgot the bread.” I fumbled for my chamber door, barred it behind me.

All I knew was that Hester would spend the night at Whiecliff Hamlet, and the morrow night at Seawatch Rock. Before the housemaid’s very ears she’d given me our meet, making it seem of no consequence, and bustling me away before I could make a hash of it.

“Damn you, Nurse,” I said to the empty room. “Clever, but why make me a fool in the process?” I’d long known that Hester never cared a whit for me. Her parting dart, that Elryc and Pytor were her favorites, had the ring of truth.

I peeled off my wet breeches, fell on my bed. Within a moment I bounded to my feet. If Hester wouldn’t hint at Elryc’s hiding place, perhaps the stableboy knew. I thrust on fresh breeks, grabbed a cloak against the rising wind, threw open my door. “I’ll be back in a few moments.”

Fostrow looked sorrowful. “Then so will I.” He stood.

“Again, I give you my word—”

“Margenthar will clap me in gaol if he sees you larking outside without a keeper. You seem a nice laddie, would you want that?”

“Gladly.”

He seemed unaware of my sullenness while we strode down the steps. I managed to look busy as we traversed the entry hall; Lord willing, no one would notice I was leashed to a watchguard like a toddler on his first outing.

Outside, I blinked in the unexpected wind, threw the hood of my cloak over my hair. The soldiers on guard at the doors wore hemp raincovers over their gear; those at the closed entry gates had a rude lean-to under which they lolled, but Fostrow, I was pleased to note, had no protection from the weather.

“Where do you go, my lord?”

“To take air.”

The front steps ended in a sort of flagstone terrace, one side of which gave way to the clay courtyard I would have to cross, to the stables. On the terrace the ceremonial guard of the door chatted idly with Lanford, chief officer of the gate sentinels.

A scarred, grimy wagon barred our way, parked almost on the flagstone itself.

“What’s that?”

Lanford snickered. “That shrew from the nursery had it hauled here last night. Said she’d claw the eyes out of any man who moved it.”

I eyed the conveyance with doubt. High flat sides of rough-cut timbers; thick wheels on aged axles that cried for grease. The wagon itself was so heavy that once loaded, a team of eight oxen would barely manage to pull it. Worst, the high closed box seat was set gracelessly athwart the frame, and no padding at all; the rump that sat on it would ache almost from the start. And that only if the driver weren’t knocked off his high perch by overhanging branches.

“Where’d she get that monstrosity?”

“It was abandoned behind the stable. I’d feel sorry for her if ...” His words trailed off.

“Yes?”

“Pardon, my lord. I know she was your nurse.”

I kicked the wheel. “Would it weren’t so. Go on.”

“She’s rather a ... harridan, isn’t she? No need to plant that wreckage here so early as last eve, but no, she said, she’d have the maids lugging trunks and whatnot downstairs through the night, and unless she set the cart in front of the guards’ noses, none of her gear would be left by morning, amid the thieves and knaves of Castle Stryx.” He spat. “Look, noon nigh upon us, and the wagon empty as the day it was made.”

Nothing he told me was much reassurance as to Hester’s good sense, or even sanity. On top of all, parking her hulking wagon in the middle of the courtyard gave her almost no chance to smuggle Elryc aboard.

As I stood morose, Hester herself hobbled down the steps behind us. A band of onlookers exchanged grins of derision as she puttered about her wagon, cloak and shawl drawn tight against the rain. She issued an incessant stream of complaints to the struggling footmen and flustered housemaids.

“Careful with that trunk, dolt! Would you break the straps before it’s seen the wagon? Oh, clever, putting it next to the barrel. At the first rut the cask will—Magret, who told you to bring that drapery? It belonged to my lady; think you I’m a thief like yourself? Put it back—no fold it first; damask will wrinkle like the very demon. Has no one taught you a thing? Faugh!”

No Elryc in sight. Not that I’d expected it.

She banged her stick. “You soldiers, stop gawking and help lift that chest over the rail. Steady! By first light I should have been gone, and look at this mess! Were a single soul in Castle Stryx not lazy as a pregnant sow I’d be long on my way!”

Someone muttered, “And none too soon.”

“I heard that, you gapemouth churl!” She squinted. “Isn’t your mother fat Etha of the laundry? Hold your tongue, or I’ll give her a piece of my mind for misraising her whelps!”

A nudge in my ribs, from Fostrow. “She hasn’t a piece to spare.” Despite myself, I grinned.

“Aye, laugh, all of you. It’s little enough I bring away from the years I served Caledon!” She fussed at a set of leather boxes, making sure they were covered by canvas against the wet.

“There you are.” A hand on my shoulder, Rustin’s. “I’ve been looking everywhere.”

At his voice, I sighed with relief. “She has them in a dither. Been packing all night.” I glanced at Fostrow, dropped my voice to a whisper. “No sign of the bundle.” Rust nodded.

We sauntered around the cart. Two of the barrels were large enough to hide Elryc, though he’d be sore cramped. Three trunks were possibilities as well, though if Hester were demented enough to stuff him into any of them, he’d be long smothered and gone. They had no airholes.

Under the cart, then. Across the way, I spotted Genard gawping amid the crowd, and nudged Rustin. The stableboy had been enlisted. What more natural than two urchins, nosing about the wagon? One would slip under, hoist himself into ropes or straps readied for the purpose.

I yearned to bend and look, and thought of fussing with my boot, but didn’t dare risk it. “Rust, go ask that dung beetle about, um, you know.” I whispered to him my suspicions. Rust nodded, drifted off.

Someone sent word to the stables; in a few minutes Kerwyn and another groom led six sturdy dray horses to the thick-hewed wagon.

“Put that star-faced mare in front. Team her with the bay, you simpleton!” Hester, to my surprise, took avid interest in the harnessing, and showed sense in the pairings. Had she truly been a horsewoman, in her long-vanished youth?

The steady soak began to work a chill through my bones, but I couldn’t go inside until I’d seen the cart safely out the gate. At my side, Fostrow shivered, and I felt a moment’s compassion, before remembering he was the Duke’s man.