Mage Quest - Wizard of Yurt 3 (5 page)

Hugo jumped up, and so did I. We hurried to where his horse stood grazing, a long sheath hanging from the saddle.

But something was wrong. Instead of a hilt protruding from the top, there was what looked like a big smoked sausage. I probed with magic. That was certainly what it was.

“My sword!” cried Hugo in dismay, reaching for it. “What’s happened to it?”

There came a sound of a low chuckle from behind us, rough-edged as though it had not been used very often. When we spun around, Dominic tossed his cloak back to show that he held Hugo’s sword concealed beneath it.

Hugo, incredulous, slowly drew the sausage from his sheath. Dominic was realy laughing now. The sausage, three feet long, was wrapped its entire length in pink ribbons.

We came over a hiltop, buffeted by a damp wind. Dominic, riding in front, puled up hard.

In the valey before us was a smal merchant caravan, half a dozen mule-drawn carts accompanied by two mounted men. But the mounted men had their hands up and were trying to control their skittish mounts with their knees, for on the hilside just above them, their backs turned to us, were four helmeted horsemen holding drawn bows.

Hugo reacted at once. Not even taking time to pul on his helmet, he gave a yel and kicked his horse forward. Dominic and Ascelin were only a second behind him. I hadn’t seen Dominic move that fast in years.

The startled bandits spun around, trying unsuccessfuly to maintain their seats and keep their bows steady. Before they could aim again, our party was on them.

Hugo swung his sword in a great arc toward the bandit who seemed to be the leader. It slashed through his crimson cloak, but the steel bounced with a dul clang off the armor hidden underneath. The bandits bow flew from his hands as Ascelin grabbed the momentarily-stunned leader and wrenched him from his horse. Dominic whirled his mace, and two wel-aimed blows on two more bandits’ arms made them drop their bows in anguish.

At this point, I had recovered from surprise enough to come forward and start putting paralysis spels on everyone. The two bandits Dominic had clubbed toppled from their horses and the leader went stil in Ascelin’s hands. But that left one more.

I looked up and saw him \ down the valey. The other bandits’ horses ran, riderless, behind him.

“Shal I fly after him?” I yeled to Dominic.

“Let him go,” the prince answered with satisfaction. “They’re bound to have friends and the friends ought to hear what happens to bandits.” The king and Joachim, who had been left behind, came up with our packhorses at the same time as the mounted men from the caravan seemed to decide we weren’t a second group of bandits about to turn on them, having once despatched the first group.

We al came together by the wagons at the bottom of the hil, a group with varied emotions. Dominic, Ascelin, and Hugo were highly pleased with themselves, I thought al out of proportion. Although there were only three of them to the four bandits, they had had the advantage of surprise as wel as Ascelin’s size, plus the assistance of a supposedly competent wizard, me. I was angry that it had taken me so long to react; Hugo would have kiled the leader if it hadn’t been for his armor, whereas I should have been able to disarm him easily with magic. The king looked excited and a little apprehensive, Joachim concerned, and the knights who were supposed to be protecting the caravan, embarrassed.

A man in a rich purple cloak jumped off the first of the wagons. “Thank you!” he said heartily. “I don’t know what we would have done if you hadn’t come along,” with a sharp glance at his knights. “We hadn’t expected to meet bandits in this region—although I myself am only taking this road for the first time, since the lord in the next river valey over started charging tols on his bridges. We have a lot of valuable silks on the way to market. Can I reward you with a few bolts? The color of your choice, for yourselves or your ladies?”—

The king smiled. “We appreciate your offer, but we don’t need a reward. I’m the king of Yurt.” So much, I thought, for traveling anonymously. “Even when not at home, I feel it part of royal responsibility to keep the roads safe for honest men—and you can tel that my knights feel the same way!”

“What shal we do with them?” asked Ascelin, stirring the three paralyzed bandits with one toe. They were breathing, but they were stiff and immobile; I doubted they would remember much of this.

“We should kil them,” said Hugo enthusiasticaly.

“No,” said the long thoughtfuly. “We may have caught them, but I have no rights of justice outside my kingdom.”

“And you can’t kil a defenseless man,” said Ascelin to Hugo reprovingly.

“Look at this, Hugo,” said Dominic pointedly. “The bandit leader has an earring just like yours.”

“We passed a castle about an hour ago,” said the merchant, pointing along the road in the direction that we were going. “You can just see the turrets beyond that hil. If the castelan there doesn’t have rights of justice, he’l certainly have a dungeon where these malefactors can be kept until they’re turned over to the proper authorities.” He looked at their motionless forms quizzicaly, then at me. “What did you do with them?” he asked with what I hoped was awe.

“Just a little trick we wizards know,” I said airily, fairly satisfied with my ultimate role in this.

As we continued south, the bandits tied onto the packhorses, I positioned my horse next to Hugo’s so I could talk to him. Joachim seemed to have the same idea, for I discovered him on Hugo’s other side.

I spoke up quickly, feeling that the young lord needed to hear good sense before he heard Christian morality. “Hugo,” I said conversationaly, “you could have gotten yourself kiled back there.”

“But I didn’t,” he said with a grin.

“You might have had an arrow in the eye if the bandits had been on foot rather than on horseback.”

“That’s why I yeled, to startle the horses.” I was quite sure he had not thought this through, but I couldn’t very wel contradict him. I had a sudden, very unpleasant vision of Sir Hugo’s party starting happily home from the Holy Land and of bandits leaping out of ambush and putting an arrow through Evrard. But I couldn’t mention this to Hugo because the next arrow would have been for his father.

I switched tactics. It was no use trying to make him realize the unnecessary danger he had put himself in if he was happy to have been in danger. “Why do you think the king brought his Royal Wizard along?” Hugo shot me a quick look. To deal with dragons or whatever magical creatures we run across.”

“And also,” I said, giving him a wizardly stare, “to deal with bandits. You saw me paralyze the three of them. If you’d given me fifteen seconds before you attacked, I could have had them al tied up neatly with magical spels.”

“You wizards take al the fun out of everything,” said Hugo grumpily. “I know perfectly wel why there haven’t been any decent wars in the western kingdoms for close to two centuries, not since the Black Wars. You don’t want to let the aristocracy do what we’re trained to do.”

“We certainly don’t want you kiling each other,” I said.

“Our own wizard would never scold me for saving us al from bandits.”

I realized he meant Evrard. But if he had seen much more of Evrard in the last few years than I had, I thought I stil knew the red-headed wizard better. “Didn’t your wizard ever tel you that he’d decided to study wizardry in the first place because he was fascinated by the history of how wizards had stopped the Black Wars?” Hugo didn’t answer, which I took as an affirmative.

“I don’t doubt your courage, Hugo,” I continued. I thought, but decided it would be tactful not to say, that he was stil young enough that his own death would not seem a real possibility to him. “And there wil be ample opportunity on this trip for you to show it. But if you don’t mind putting yourself in danger, you might at least think about the bandit leader. You would have kiled him if he weren’t wearing armor.”

“It’s nice armor, too,” said Hugo thoughtfuly, “much higher quality than you’d expect to see on a highwayman. It’s even better than mine. I wonder if it would fit me.” I was not about to be distracted. “Doesn’t death seem like a rather stiff penalty for trying to rob a silk caravan?”

“Don’t go al moralistic!” Hugo cried. “The castelan to whom we’re taking these bandits may wel hang them al if they’re multiple offenders. I know King Haimeric never hangs anybody, but justice is sharper a lot of places outside of Yurt.”

“You stil can’t act as judge and executioner yourself,” I said sternly. I was rapidly starting to feel out of my depth. Since I, unlike Evrard, had not become a wizard out of fascination with the end of the Black Wars, and because Yurt realy was very peaceful, I tended not to think about the morality of judicial execution or, for that matter, much about deep moral issues at al.

“Even the Church recognizes kiling in self-defense and the possibility of a just war,” said Hugo.

“This was not self-defense,” said Joachim.

I had been wondering when the chaplain was going to join this conversation. Priests were supposed to worry about morality. Wizards just try to keep as many people as possible alive and wel.

“And kiling someone,” Joachim continued soberly, “even in self-defense or to save another innocent life, stil leaves a stain on the soul.” Hugo, who had turned toward the chaplain, seemed abashed. I myself stil found Joachims burning dark eyes intimidating. “Wel, I didn’t kil him and I didn’t mean to kil him.” I expected he was teling the perfect truth—at al the tournaments in which he had taken part, everyone would have been wearing armor and he would not have even thought about the effects of a razor-sharp sword on a man who did not have mail under his cloak.

But I was tired of worrying about morality. So when Hugo suddenly looked up and said, “What a castle!” in an entirely different voice, I was happy to change the subject.

And it was quite a castle. Among the tumbled hils before us rose a high ridge of red sandstone, at least a hundred feet tal. Cut into the sandstone were narrow windows; perched on top, staring sternly down at the fields surrounding it, was the castle itself. Pennants whipping in the wind from the tops of the towers looked tiny, making us realize how high the castle realy was.

We al puled up for a better look. The castle was so wel situated for war that we were momentarily stunned. “It would be impregnable,” said Ascelin. “There’s no way to scale the sandstone cliffs, especialy with men inside shooting out. And I expect the stairs inside, going up to the castle, are very narrow and could easily be blocked against an enemy.”

“I’m sure the castelan does indeed have rights of high justice,” commented the king with a chuckle.

The castle rose higher and higher above us as we approached. Encircling the base of the sandstone ridge was a tal curtain wal, also built of red stone, but the gate stood open. Two soldiers stepped forward menacingly as we approached.

“Greetings,” said the king. “We would like to see the lord of this castle. We have captured some bandits.”

The soldiers took a good look at us and our packhorses and then abruptly fled with startled cries. Giving each other surprised glances, we dismounted and came through the gate on foot.

“It’s a good thing we caught these bandits,” said the king, “if even the sight of them bound terrifies the people here.”

“It’s a good thing the castelan has such a fine castle if his soldiers are al cowards,” replied Dominic.

Inside the wals were al the working parts of a castle that someone would not want to transport up narrow stairs cut inside a cuff: the stables, the kennels, the armor shop, the mews, the kitchens, and the big grain storage bins. Down at the far end stood a set of gibbets; this castelan did indeed practice high justice.

We waited politely for someone to come meet us, but for a few minutes there was only panicked shouting and scurrying. I even wondered momentarily if some bizarre spel had made everyone here think that we were dragons. But a quick probe found no spels other than my own.

After a while, one of the soldiers came back. “Are—are they dead?”

“Of course not,” I said “I paralyzed them with magic.”

He hesitated. Something very odd indeed, I thought, was happening here. Did they think we were another band of ruffians ourselves? If so, why did they make no effort to resist us?

“You’d better go up to the castle,” the soldier said at last, “and talk to the constable.”

There was a brief pause while we tried to decide if it was possible to carry the bandits up the stairs. Finaly I broke the spels that held them. They looked disoriented and confused as we untied them from the packhorses, then puled them to their feet and tied their hands behind them. As we started toward the castle, Ascelin, Dominic, and Hugo each had a bandit in front of him, a dagger point resting against the back of his neck.

The first flight of stairs was wide enough to give us few problems, even though the steps were uneven and extremely dark. There were no windows and we had to feel our way. The sandstone wals were gritty on either hand, and I heard Dominic cursing quietly as he bumped his head.

V

We came out into what appeared to be a guard room cut into the stone. A single window gave a little light. On the far side, the stairs started up again, much narrower and even darker.

The soldier leading us glanced at Dominic and Ascelin. “We’d better take the outside stairs,” he said.

The bandits, who had said nothing, turned toward a door set in the room’s outer wal, next to the window. The soldier opened the door, which led to wooden stairs built on scaffolding on the outside of the cliff. These were much wider than the inner stairs though the gaps between steps made them potentialy treacherous.

I glanced down as we came out into chily daylight and saw that we were already forty feet up. This was indeed an admirable castle for war. Even if an enemy made it as far as the guard room, he would stil have to climb either the narrow inner stairs, which could easily be blocked, or the outer wooden stairs, which could be set on fire.

But how had the bandits known that the doorway led to the stairs?