Otto opened the door and leaned out to shout, "Guard!" He kept one eye on the girl.

A few seconds later, a soldier appeared, stopped at the 348.

'EfizaBetA bottom of the stairs and saluted, and started up. "Yessir."

"Get Prince Golias," Otto told him. "I don't care what he's doing, he should leave it."

"Yessir."

Otto closed the door again. He would have to make it clear to Golias that the girl was to be questioned but not damaged. Where to hold her? Here? The fortress was filled with his men from Ascolet and Lys and Golias's mercenaries; a lot of the Crown's troops had died tonight when Prospero's men had made their break because Prince Herne had had them guarding the prisoners closely, not trusting the levies. Prince Heme was a fool, and he wasn't here; he was guarding the capitol. Otto thought it was an ill wind indeed that blew n.o.body any good. He folded his arms and leaned again on the table.

"You will be confined and questioned," he told his prisoner. "The more cooperative you are, the more comfortable you will be."

"Let me go," she whispered.

Otto laughed. "You are the key to my future happiness," hesaid sarcastically. "I shall take excellent care that you not be mislaid."

"My father will be very angry if you do not release me now."

"Your father is on the run at the moment," Otto reminded her, "and when he comes looking for you he'll find all the opposition he can handle. He can have you, too. But he'll have to bargain."

"He will not," she said. "He'll kill you."

"Then he won't get you back, lady." Otto smiled. With any luck, she'd be out of his hands by the time Prospero showed up anyway, and then the Emperor would have to cope with him-and the Emperor probably couldn't, not having a sorcerer on call. But by then Otto would have signed and sealed articles from the Emperor yielding Ascolet and maybe Lys and a bit of Sa.r.s.emar. Ascolet could use a port on the Sovereign Sea. The more he asked for, the more he was likely to get.

"You will regret this all your days," she whispered.

Sorcerer and a 349.

"I wasn't careless like Prospero," said Otto. "I think he's the one who'll be doing a lot of regretting."

Golias opened the door without knocking and entered. He scowled at the girl and then at Otto. "What the f.u.c.k do you want?"

"Someone very important is going to come looking for this dropped penny, and we must be sure that he doesn't find her easily."

Golias looked the prisoner up and down. "So? Who?"

"Prospero."

"The great man himself? What makes her special? His mattress-warmer?''

"Better than that."

Golias looked at the girl again, narrowing his eyes. He nodded slowly. "Kid?"

Otto saw her swallow. "Yes," he said, "it does seem that the Prince of Air has been foolish. We'll keep her here for now, below. Heavy guards: everywhere. I don't want a repeat of the Malperdy farce."

Golias smiled unpleasantly. "And then?"

"What do you think the Emperor would give for her?"

Golias laughed, grinning, and slapped Otto on the back, laughing still, and left the room, slamming the door.

"The arrogant pup," said Prince Herne, dropping the rolled paper on the table.

Prince Gaston picked it up again and unrolled it, weighting the corners with map-weights.

"We should have hanged Golias after he murdered Lady Miranda," Herne said.

"You're jealous," Emperor Avril said, smirking.

"What?" Herne stared at him.

"That they, and not you, had the good fortune and good sense to be where Prospero was," the Emperor said, losing the smirk and glaring at both of them.

Gaston looked back at him coldly. "Your orders," he reminded the Emperor in a tone that indicated he might not have agreed. In fact he had not. He had doubted that Prospero would try a strike at the capitol, but the Emperor had 350.

ffzaBeth Itfittey been convinced of it, had insisted on Gaston remaining in Landuc after Lady Miranda's funeral, had recalled Herne from Perendlac. And Prospero had struck there, not here.

The Emperor retorted, "Your consent was ready enough; but here we are. The offer is tempting."

"He is probably bargaining with Prospero also," Herne said.

"Hm," Gaston said. He read the letter again. Herne and the Emperor conversed in a circular vein of blame and speculation, and Gaston followed them with a small part of his attention while he read again the missive brought to them by one of the soldiers who had survived the uprising at Perendlac.

Unto His Radian! Majesty A vril Emperor of Lan~ due. Greetings from Ottaviano Baron of Ascolet and Golias Prince of Landuc. Our earlier report of the Raid by the Duke of Winds to free his Cohorts has doubtless reached your Hands. Yet it is an ill Wind indeed that leaves no Good behind. For on this Raid it was the Duke's Misfortune to lose and leave behind his own Daughter. This Person is presently in our Custody closely warded and confined. And it seems to us by this great Stroke of Fortuna 's Hand that we have been given the Means for rectifying certain Inequities which the Crown in bargaining with us separately and jointly hath imposed on us. By way of opening Discussion between us then we propose that we shall yield up the Person of this Daughter of the Duke of Winds Prospero to the Crown in return for the Crown's Concession under Seal of certain Items below listed: 1. That the Barony of Ascolet shall be returned to its former Status as an independent and untrammeled Kingdom; 2. That the Crown shall recognize Ottaviano presently Baron of Ascolet as King of Ascolet; 3. That the Lands of Preszheanea, Lys, andSa.r.s.e- %. Sorcerer and a Qentieman c- 351 mar shall appertain thereto and owe Fealty to the Kingdom of Ascolet henceforward; 4. That the Borders of this Kingdom of Ascolet shall revert with these Additions to their Locations on the Accession of the late King Laudunet of Lys; 5. That the Crown shall grant to Prince Golias the revived Duchy of Sillick, the Borders of which shall be those which held on the Absorption of that Duchy by the Crown . . .

There was more, less audacious. The Fireduke concentrated on the major points, noting wording and order. Otto's tenacity was admirable, Gaston thought. And his nerve. But was this true? Gaston could not quite believe that Prospero might have been so careless with a daughter as to let her be taken hostage. It was believable that he could have a child. It was not believable that he would put her at risk. Surely he was smarter than that.

And Gaston thought of lithe, dark-haired, bright-eyed Dewar, his smile, his brilliance, his dexterity. There was more in him than had yet been shown, though Gaston had glimpsed something. Prospero knew Dewar's mother. Prospero, calling a truce of sorcery at the last minute before that final battle, had crippled himself and lost the war. He would not do that for any ordinary reason.

But Gaston had no proofs for his theories, only inferences and leaps of intuition.

In his present high-strung frame of mind, hearing unsubstantiated suspicions would make the Emperor accuse everyone who had been there of treason. Gaston kept his thoughts to himself.

"We've no ground for faith," he said in the silence that had followed Herne's and the Emperor's winding down, "that their hostage is Prospero's daughter. I counsel that we not parley until we have confirmation."

"Our idea exactly," the Emperor said.

"What would confirm it to you?"

"Prospero himself," the Emperor said after a moment's 352.

'Efizatietfi 'Wittey thought. "Yes. The girl would say whatever she was told to say. If Prospero comes around looking for her, then it might perhaps be true. We proceed from there."

"And their terms?" Gaston said.

"The Crown shall take those under consideration," the Emperor said.

Prospero's frown was deeply graven into his face. Above his aquiline nose his brow was creva.s.sed by profound displeasure.

"And thou didst allow her to fare hence," he said. "Scu-damor, 1 am disappointed in thy warding."

"My Lord, I could hardly stop her," Scudamor said, inclining his head to accept the blame despite his denial. "You know her. She would not stay."

Prospero sighed and sat back in the high-backed black stone chair, looking through his Seneschal. The man stood, hands behind his back, at ease a few steps below him. Prospero gazed at the tall candles around the painted and bas-relief carven pillars, the high double door. The vast, vault-roofed room was empty save for the two men, one seated, one standing.

"Tell me what she said to thee, her words as thou heard them." He looked again at Scudamor.

"That she would seek you out. We feared the worst had befallen, my Lord. There had been no word for so long after you had said you would return."

"So thou didst not hold her."

Scudamor glanced away. "We were anxious, Lord," he said softly. "There was no word."

Prospero had to acknowledge his own fault in this. "Wounded sore I was, and weak, and must be hidden while I mended, and I could not travel hither," he admitted. "Nor did I think 'twould be so long."

"She has Trixie," Scudamor said. "What harm could befall her with a gryphon?"

They both automatically looked at a gryphon (much smaller than life) sculpted at the top of a pillar. Wings J? Sorcerer and a (jentieman c- 353 half-spread, made of finely black-veined stone the color of dried blood, it glowered down in the direction of the door.

"Plenty," Prospero said tersely.

Scudamor looked at him, not believing it. n.o.body in his right mind would go near one of the largest female gryphons in the land with intent to harm her or Freia.

"I shall have to go haring after her," Prospero said, "and 'tis not as if I've not enough to contrive and more otherwise. Irresponsible chit," he muttered. "I'll ground her. Take her gryphon away for a year. Is't not what one's supposed to do?"

"My Lord, I wouldn't know," childless and bachelor Scudamor said humbly. "She went on the best of motives, and maybe she will return ere you set out."

"True," Prospero said. "She'll arrive, find all fled, and follow home; she's not such a dullard as not to understand an army's retreat. I suppose I can rely on that. And Trixie will keep her from the worst of trouble." And out of the towns, he thought, though she loathed towns. And away from people, though she disliked people too. He'd been overly indulgent with Freia, and she was become an impertinent and disobedient baggage; now need was to bear down upon her hard. He drummed his fingers. One of the men at Perendlac had claimed to see a gryphon-but it was surely delusion; Freia had no way of knowing Perendlac and he'd not tarried long himself, moreover she'd have been at his side in a trice had she been there. Indeed, if Freia's gryphon tracked him to Landuc, now she would wheel about and track him home again, will-she, nil-she. "Perhaps simply to wait is best," he concluded.

"The Wheel will turn," Scudamor agreed, relaxing.

"Thou'rt not to blame; 'tis no one's fault, her own," Prospero said. "She's obstinate and willful."

"Her reasons were the best," Scudamor modified the statement gently. "She worried about you."

"I ward myself," Prospero said, standing. " Tis not her concern- Well, 'tis neither here nor there. For I am here, she's there or between, and when she cometh here we'll 354 -=>.

make an end oft. Meanwhile there's the City." "If my Lord would like to review the work on the walls ..."

"Aye. On horseback. Let us go around the circuit and I'll see how't succeeds."

Dewar had, uncharacteristically, picked a bunch of floppy-petalled, wantonly lush scarlet flowers and put them in a tall silver ewer of water on his bedside table. The odor of them was richly spicy-sweet. The day was warm, warmer than usual for the mountains where his thorn-girdled tower stood with its views of eternal snow and a faraway waterfall that spilled liquid silver down a shattered cliff. High-piled clouds ma.s.sed and re-formed, vaporous fortresses in silvered whites and greys. There would be a thunderstorm later. That would be pleasant to watch as he lounged naked in the sheets surrounded by papers, reviewing his own old notes. It was good to be at work again. The war had wasted his time and gained him nothing-less than nothing.

He had removed his moustache and beard, deciding he didn't care for them anymore, and his chin tingled still with the touch of the razor. The scent of astringent blended not unpleasantly with the flowers.

It was regrettable, Dewar mused, setting aside a sheet of three-sided diagrams and spiky plots, that he hadn't bedded hot Josquin or skittish Freia when he'd had the opportunity. That would have been time well spent. Lunete had provided satisfaction such as he'd not allowed himself for too long. As for the third interesting woman he had met, bold Lady Miranda-there was no wench to be tumbled but a friend to be cultivated; she burned with n.o.bility and bridled power, more like the folk of Noroison than any other creatures of Landuc had been, a strong woman of thoughts and deeds. Still, there'd be time later for such diversions. Freia had been eager to take it up and Josquin would be as easily taken up himself. He had looked up Valgalant in his Ephemeris and could call on Lady Miranda formally some few months hence. Given Otto's behavior at Perendlac and before that at the fountain, it was delightful to lie here and Sorcerer and a Qentteman 355.

think about the man's wife. Dewar chuckled. Another thing that might be taken up again later, he suspected, and he doubted that he'd need to draw upon the power latent in the lock of hair she'd given him, which now reposed in a sorcer-ously-sealed jar.

Freia, he thought, and picked up a sheet of equations. Pretty eyes she had. Brown. Blue? No, they were an odd slatey grey. Bit of green maybe. Unusual color. Brownish-grey-green, like fallen leaves in water. Anyway, pretty. He frowned a small frown.

How could she have gotten out of Perendlac?

The gryphon, of course.

Nasty fighter. He'd seen it gut a mail-armored man with one foreclaw, a messy death. Where Freia would go next- into hiding if she had sense. Of course she'd been seeking Prospero, and she'd missed the Way.

He lowered the sheet of paper, scratched his crotch, and frowned a little more. Prospero was clearly en route elsewhere, a wise general who had kept moving with his battered army and the allies waiting there with ships to carry them off. That army was in no condition for an attack on Landuc. No. Prospero would rebuild and return.

How would the girl find him, then?

A mote of guilt entered the warm, bright bedroom and darkened it.

The gryphon, Dewar thought, had some way of tracking Prospero. That was how she'd gotten to Malperdy. Yes, and that was what she'd been doing on the last leg of the trip: Trixie had sensed Prospero and headed straight for him. Yes. Strange but not unheard-of. Perhaps the animal was actually Prospero's own, so Freia would use the gryphon's finding-sense to track and follow him. Perhaps even along the Road; there were precedents for such behavior from familiars.

When she found Prospero, he considered, she would certainly tell him of her encounter with another sorcerer. She liked him. She might be an ally later. In which case it was as well he had not pressed his advantage and his attentions on her; for she could only give good report of him to Pros- 356.

*E&zaBetA Itfittey pero, had only favorable, courteous memories of Dewar. It would soften Prospero toward him; Prospero was inclined to softness, holding back his sorcery in the war to spare Dewar for the wrong reason. He had told Dewar he was his son, foolishly confiding in him, and Dewar could have attacked him, blood to blood.

Prospero had been trafficking with Odile. Despite the Prince's distrustful words about her, Dewar knew Odile was subtle, pernicious, and poisonous. If she could strike at her son through Prospero, she would. Dewar must protect himself from Odile, and if he could use Prospero to gain an advantage, he would. Yet he must guard himself at the same time.

Not a duel, no: rather, Dewar could make of Prospero a shield and sounding-board that would at once shield him from Odile and let him know what she had afoot-but that could wait, all could wait. He was tired of people for now, and he had better work to do. The Third-Force problem had become more than interesting; it was urgent that he solve it soon. For, given a Third Force, someone must ineluctably claim it, making it the center of his sorcery and power, as Primas had found and possessed Hendiadys, as his son Panurgus had found and possessed Pheyarcet. Dewar would find the source of the Third Force and it would be his, and then he would be able to deal with Prospero and Odile both.

He picked up another sheaf of notes and equations in which he had attempted to describe the Third-Force problem and concentrated.

31.PROSPERO RAN THROUGH THE MUD-CHURNED Streets past scaffolding and piles of stone, his Castellan on his heels.

"Trixie!" he shouted to the gryphon in the meadow at the downstream end of the island.

Trixie was grooming, balefully eyeing the watchers, half Sorcerer and a Cjentteman 357.

a pig visible beneath her. She stopped and tensed, staring at Prospero.

He stopped twenty feet from her. She didn't move.

"Trixie," he crooned, "pretty Trix, where'st thou been pretty thing, I've worried ... my, I've been fashed ... pretty Trix, wilt let me see thy bags? Good Trix, good Trix . . ."

A quarter-hour later, the gryphon was allowing him to stroke her throat and he was unbuckling the gear she still carried. It was weatherbeaten, as was Trixie; Trixie had also bitten at the leather-covered chains and tried to get them off. Prospero loosed her harness, then opened the bags and hunted through them, spilling them on the b.l.o.o.d.y gra.s.s.

Empty. No food. A few small pieces of clothing. Freia's cooking equipment. The canteen was dry.

"Where's Freia, Trix?" he said, standing again. "Freia. Where's thy Freia?"

Trixie crooned unhappily.

"d.a.m.nable dumbness," Prospero said. "If I'd known what I was about, I'd've given you all speech. Freia."