"Won't he just go running to Gantrell, though?" wondered Retruance. "Or run away altogether?"
"I doubt it. With Murdan he has a good chance of staying alive. With Peter of Gantrell, Plume is dead meat, even if he tries to run or hide. Gantrell will find him. He knows too much!"
The Dragon caught the accountant's horse. Clem and Tom hoisted the half-fainting Plume into the saddle and tied his feet to the stirrups so he couldn't fall off.
"Get going!" Tom ordered. Clem slapped the horse sharply on the rump. The poor mare shot off down the highway as fast as she could go.
"He'll not make it in this weather," said Clem, with some satisfaction.
"He may have sense enough to stop at a farmhouse or an inn between here and there," Retruance responded.
"This snow is a blessing, at any rate," said Tom. The men remounted the Dragon and hung on while Retruance launched himself into the blizzard.
"Why a blessing?" called the Dragon, steaming north once more.
"We'll reach Plaingirt long before those assassins do," Tom explained. "Take Freddie the Sponge away from the Mercenary Knights, take care of the Overhall bunch, and be back in Lexor in time for the trial."
Retruance devoted all his energy to beating across the wind, and his attention to following the faint trace of high- 300.
DRAGON COMPANION 301.
Don Callander way. In the snow they caught no sight of the three killers, but wasted no time looking for them.
A lone woodcutter on the ragged edge of the forest welcomed them to his hut, although apprehensive about the Dragon, as one might expect. He said the fortified village of Plaingirt was only two miles farther on.
"You can't miss it, even in this mess," he claimed. " *Tis on the highest hill in front of the Snows and has a wooden tower in the center you can see for miles and milesa-even from here, on a clear day."
Even so, the Dragon flew around the area for half an hour before spotting the tower and the palisaded village.
"Direct approach is the best," Tom decided. "Clem and I will go straight through the front gate and demand Basilicae' s prisoners. Retruance, circle overhead, just in case he tries something funny."
"Give me a shout," snorted the Dragon, "and I'll knock that rickety tower down about their ears with one swipe!"
MERCENARIES don't stay alive and healthy by acting like fools, especially when it comes to recognizing superior force like a fire-breathing, full-grown Dragon swooping back and forth over their rooftops. Basilicae quickly agreed to cooperate, although his troop outnumbered his enemies, twenty to one.
"Now, as soon as the sun rises, you will escort the Overhallers to Lexor" Tom ordered. "In the meanwhile, you will treat them like long-lost cousins, understand? See them safe at Lexor before you leave them."
"Agreed," replied the Mercenary Knights' captain with alacrity. Retruance dived straight for the tower, swerving just in time to miss it by a hair. The whole structure trembled in the wind of his passing and the lookouts caught on top cried out in fear.
"We'll take your other prisoner with us, bound securely,"
Clem told the knight.
"No loss there! A damned pain in the posterior," said one of Basilicae's lieutenants.
"One thing else," added Tom. "Tomorrow three Gantrell killers will come straggling in. They've orders to murder Brevory in his cell. Whatever you want to do with them is your business, just keep them from returning to Gantrell."
Basilicae shook his head in doubt.
"Murder is not our style, I swear. But Gantrell is techni-cally our employer," he argued. "If we hinder his minions, he has grounds for abrogation."
"That's your problem. Sir Basilicae," said Tom shortly. "As far as King, Historian, Princess, the Dragon, and I are concerned, your contract with Peter of Gantrell is already void anyway."
"I think," said Basilicae, "that it's time to move on to a milder climate."
"We can use three new recruits," murmured his second-in-command. "A bit of Knights' discipline should whip them into shape. They might even find they prefer us to Gantrell."
"Whatever you wish," sighed Tom. "If you were to ask me, which you didn't, I'd say vacating Carolna would be good business policy for your company. Gantrell will no longer be able to afford a private army. No other noble will want you."
"You're right on all counts," Basilicae agreed. "Lieutenant, get the drunkard and a length of good hemp rope to lash him to the Dragon's back."
AFTER the snow had fallen to great depth all of Fridaya- Session Ball had been postponeda-and all of Saturday, the weather turned arctic cold and high winds rose, drifting the snow against walls and between buildings to fifteen and twenty feet deep, forcing many Lexorans to use their second-story windows to leave their houses.
By Sunday morning the city was buried. Everyone stayed snugly indoors, played parlor games, read to each other, or slept, and therefore didn't see when the hostages from Plaingirt were dropped at the northeast gate by their escort. They were sent at once to Murdan's town house behind Manda Palace.
Dr. Arcolas, Murdan's private magician and physician, the senior member of the captive Overhall party, came to report after he'd had a chance to eat and thaw out from the trek.
"I confirmed early on that this second storm was actually but the second half of the first, master. Peter of Gantrell outsmarted himself, I should say."
302 Don Callander DRAGON COMPANION.
303.
"It's a good thing you're a passable physician, Arcolas," Murdan grumbled. "As a magician you stink! You should have warned me before we left home!"
"Oh, sir!" The physician assumed a hurt expression. "The snow was the product of strong, very strong, magic. It took me days to discern that it was magical, as it is."
Murdan grudgingly apologized for his sharp words. Mag-ic was neither a certain science nor an easy art. The Historian was restless and anxious, awaiting the resumption of Session, now set for Tuesday. The Session Ball had been moved to Monday night.
Tom and Clem had come early Saturday to place their prisoner in a dry but rather chill dungeon under Manda Palace, his guards sworn to secrecy. Fredrick of Brevory was told of the three assassins sent to silence him. He'd been, ever since, uncharacteristically quiet and sober.
"It's very hard to imagine even Uncle Peter ordering anyone's murder," sighed the princess. "I know he's often wicked and sometimes very cruela but this is plain evil!"
"Take our word on it," Clem insisted. "He intended to wipe all trace of Freddie the Sponge from the world! Those men are professional killers. They'd killed before, for Gantrell's pay and for robbery on their own."
"We're still rather naive," said Tom, taking Manda's hand. They'd hardly been apart since he'd returned. "I'm afraid we've both got to learn to be tougher at times, sweetheart. Speaking of whicha-sweethearts, that isa-how are the twins and the queen?"
"Oh, absolutely splendid!" cried Manda, jumping to her feet. "Come on, let's go see them. My stepmother has been asking for you ever since I arrived alone."
All that remained, Tom said to Clem, was to survive the ball on Monday night, which at least gave them something to do while they waited for Tuesday.
"I don't see why I have to go to the ball," wailed the fur trapper of Broken Land. "I'm a nobody! I never learned manners. Why, I can't even dance!"
"You'll leam," Momie insisted gleefully. "If you want me to share your life from now on, sir, you must put up with mine at times."
"Wait *til I get you out to my forest cabin!" Clem threatened. "We'll see how quickly you leam new ways!"
"I've seen you glide like a jungle cat through the very densest woods without making a single sound," his lady scolded good-naturedly. "You can certainly do a few simple dance steps with me as partner."
"The thought of you as partner makes it all possible," moaned her trapper. "Very well! We shall do it until I get it righta-or drop!"
The tailor and seamstresses of Overhall were busy with Tom's final fittings. On Monday evening he found himself decked out in emerald green velveteen knee britches, a shimmering silk coat of bright canary yellow and emerald buttons, black slippers of supple kid, snow white hose, and heavily starched shirt that ended everywhere he looked in froths of lace. Even he had to admit that he looked splendid, however.
"You are without a doubt the most handsome man in Carolna," cried Manda when he came to escort her to the ball.
The weather had suddenly turned warm Sunday afternoon. The streets of the city became rivers rushing down to the harbor. Dr. Arcolas predicted that the water would all be drained by Monday's sunset. They rode in carriages the short distance to Session Hall, no longer a solemn meeting place but magically transformed into a ballroom by ten thousand beeswax candles in glittering crystal reflectors, a fifty-piece string orchestra, graceful autumn-toned swags and draperies, and tables laden with the tastiest, fanciest creations of twenty chefs.
"Don't eat the lemon meringues!" hissed Arcolas to Tom and Manda when they danced by. "A Gantrell chef made *em."
"Too late!" Tom laughed. "I already had two. They are superb!"
To no ill effect, it turned out. Peter's cook's lemon meringues were the crown jewels of the dessert table, but Gantrell himself appeared only long enough to show cold courtesy to the king, queen, and delegates, and then disappeared, a fact commented upon at every hand all evening.
SOMEHOW the Historian's party managed to get a few hours of sleep between the last quadrille and the opening of Session on Tuesday morning. More than a few delegates 304.
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305.
struggled to hide yawns and winces from aching heads.
Tom and Clem took places beside Ffallmar and Rosemary to one side of the dais. Gantrell and a party of wealthy followers entered in a body and took their places near the front of the hall, looking neither to left nor right, frowning from more than just too much drinking, dining, and dancing.
"He's making a bad show of this," said Clem, with some glee. "You'd think he'd at least pretend to be glad things are coming to a head, for appearance sake."
"Peter is not nearly as sophisticated as he'd like us to believe," commented Ffallmar with a chuckle. "He's the kind who has to be in controla-and here, the King is very much in charge."
"Murdan swears Peter had no idea we'd returned, or what we'd done," said Tom. "Thanks to his messing with the weather, communications are not too gooda unless you have a Dragon to fly you around."
"Where is Retruance Constable?" wondered Rosemary, looking about with curiosity.
"He said he'd be here," Tom told her.
King Eduard and Queen Beatrix arrived at the main entrance and walked slowly down the long aisle to the dais, nodding pleasantly and speaking to delegates as they came, smiling broadly at the applause that erupted, once again, at their appearance.
Eduard seated his queen in her gold chair and picked up the Wand of Justice before he addressed the assembly.
"Good morning! We hope you enjoyed the ball last night. This Session is called to order and I believe the proceed-ings today will make you forget your aching heads and sleepy eyes."
He allowed the murmurs and groans to die down before going on, a natural master of ceremonies, calm and pleasant yet serious under it all.
"A Court of Royal Justice is now convened to hear the indictment of one Fredrick of Brevory, a liege man of Lord Peter of Gantrell. We call upon the Royal Historian, Murdan of Overhall, to lay his charges before the court."
The Historian stood and walked to the open space between the throne and the audience, looking grave and angry. Without preamble he launched into a vivid description of the events of early summertime, beginning with his return from Spring Session and ending with a description of the pursuit and capture of the kidnappers by his Librarian and the Princess Royal Alix Amanda, accompanied by stout friends and the Dragon Retruance Constable.
"In Wall, a city on your far northwest, beyond Broken Land, Majesty, the rescue party found my daughter and her three youngsters prisoners aboard a ship.
"The ship bore a blazon known on both coasts as the Standing Bear, the blazon of the Gantrell fleet."
Now the crowd roared in surprise, shouting to each other and to Murdan. The king rapped the wand sharply on the dais floor.
"The Librarian and the Broken Land trapper went aboard the flagship of Gantrell's Quietness Ocean flotilla and found my daughter and her children in a cabin, under guard. They rescued the captives and managed to capture, in turn, the Gantrell henchman who had carried them all the way from Summer Pass!"
Peter of Gantrell jumped to his feet, his face purple with rage.
"Base lies! There were no Gantrell ships at Wall at that time. I know nothing of a kidnapping."
"I don't believe," said Eduard, softly, "that anyone has a yeta accused you of anything. Lord Peter. At any rate, you'll get your chance to reply and explain, shortly."
He turned back to the Historian.
"Go on. Lord Murdan. Who was the kidnapper?"
Murdan identified the culprit by name and Achievement. The delegates insisted on cheering the outcome of the adventure, waving and nodding to Tom and Clem. Manda, from her seat on the dais, smiled dazzlingly, and Lady Rosemary lay her hand on Tom's shoulder, so no one would mistake who had been her rescuer.
"This ends my indictment," said Murdan in a loud voice, "I am at the court's pleasure."
"The court will hear your witnesses, and then hear any rebuttal anyone cares to present," decided the king. "Bring before us the Lady Rosemary of Ffallmar!"
Murdan seated himself and watched proudly as Rosemary left her seat to come to the dais. She was in high color but fully in control of herself. Manda nodded to her in encouragement, and the queen echoed the smile and the nod.
306 Don Callander "Lady Rosemary of Ffallmar?" the King asked.
"Yes, Your Majesty. I am she."
"Do you. Rosemary of Ffallmar, swear what you are about to testify to is the truth, and all the truth?" a clerk intoned.
"I do, sire!" said Rosemary, nodding her head emphatically.
"Tell the court, lady, in your own words, what happened last spring," said Eduard. "Get the lady a chair, please. She need not stand to testify."
Rosemary sat down and began.
"I was visiting Overhall, where I had grown up and had many friends, because I had received a message from my father through his trusted comptroller, saying that he wanted me to be there when he returned from Lexor. I took my three small children with me as a holiday."
The Historian's daughter told her story in detail, adding observations that Murdan himself had not mentioned. When she finished, Eduard leaned far forward and smiled kindly at her.
"You are able to confirm that the man known as Fredrick of Brevory was the chief kidnapper? There was no other in charge of the misdeed?"
"Oh, yes, Freddie was in charge. None of the seamen liked or trusted him, but they were obliged to obey him because he had some sort of commission from someone to whom the officers of the ships owed obedience."
"Can you say who that someone was?" asked the king.
"No, I never heard them say nor saw his commission. I assumed, however, that it was Peter of Gantrell.a"
"I object most strongly!" cried Peter, jumping to his feet again.
"I assure you. Lord Peter, that I won't overlook the hearsay nature of this part of the lady's testimony," the king said, giving Gantrell a sharp look.