The Pixilated Peeress (28 page)

             
When Thorolf had recounted Bardi's magical blun
der, she put
in: "I should like to pull out that old fool's whiskers, hair by hair!"

             
"You can't. Bardi is dead."

             
"How so?"

             
"Some of Duke Gondomar's men slew him as they robbed his house."

             
"Oh, the poor old dodderer! Now tell me whither we are bound, and to wh
at end?"

             
Thorolf told how he had sought refuge among the trolls. "But there's a complication." He reported his forced wedding to Bza, and his leaving his marital du
ties to Bza's lover Khop.

             
"It matters not," said Yvette, "since neither this Bza nor I
has any wish to wed you."

             
"I
hope no trouble arise from that matter. I apologize in advance for the village. You'll find a troll settlement a foul sort of place."

             
"One of my rank," she snapped, "can take the rough with the smooth. Only the lower classe
s expect things to go on lifelong without change." She paused. "And then what next, my good Sergeant? I trust you expect me not to pass my life amongst trolls!"

             
"Of course not! But I have not yet decided upon a plan. If Orlandus be dead, perchance the sp
ines of gov
ernment will stiffen enough to seize the castle and bring those within to book. Orlandus' use of deltas would support a list of indictments as long as your arm."

             
She sniffed. "Always your cautious Rhaetian legal
isms! A true hero would round
up a band of followers, seize the castle, slaughter the miscreants, and let the lawyers argue legality. That is what I should have done had they obtained a foothold in Grintz."

             
"So indeed would I, were I sure that more good than evil would flow from the
deed. But we Rhaetians know that, if it's the practice to take the law into one's own hands, the winner will be the most faithless and ruth
less, be he never such a villain."

             
"A true knight would act first and then ponder the ifs and buts
—
"

             
"Oh, go to
sleep! You'd liefer argue than eat, and we have two days' walk ahead of us."

-

             
The sun was well up when, fatigued as they were, they at last woke up for good. Thorolf served Yvette an aus
tere breakfast of hardtack and trollish beer, the latter slightly improved by straining it through a clean sock before jugging it. Although Yvette's face registered dis
taste, she downed the repast without verbal complaint.

             
When they set out, they went m
ore slowly than Tho
rolf had expected because Yvette could not keep up with his walking pace. Moreover, her bedroom slippers soon began to wear out on the rough pathways. They stopped in midmorning while Thorolf dug his goatskin slippers out of the pack.
T
hese proved so much too large for her that they came off at every step.

             
At last he got out his spare socks and put them on over her bedroom slippers, tying them in place with one of the strips of cloth he had brought to bind and gag her.

             
When they resu
med, Yvette paused where the trail ran through a muddy patch. "Ugh!" she said. "Your socks will be full of mud, unless we climb around."

             
"The socks will be done for by the time we reach the village in any case. This is a little-used path the trolls revea
led me. Here, I'll carry you."

             
He picked her up and started across. Halfway he paused, staring at the ground. "What is't?" she asked.

             
"An interesting track, and recent." He stepped to one side and stood Yvette on a small boulder. "Stand for a trice whi
lst I study it."

             
"Oh, come on! Wouldst waste the day trailing beasts?"

             
Thorolf ignored the comment. "Here's a man in proper mountain boots, and here we have two
—
nay, three others
—
in common shoon, apparently following him."

             
"How know you which came fi
rst?"

             
"Because here, and again here, one of the trio stepped on the print of the booted man."

             
He picked her up again and bore her to the end of the slough. She asked: "Were those following the booted man, or did they come by long after?"

             
"That I cannot tell." Later, he paused where the path forked, pointing to footprints on the right-hand path. "Thither went that dubious quartet. Our path lies to the left, but methinks I'll make a cast along the right-hand path to ascertain whither it lea
d
s."

             
"Nay, do not so! I wish to reach this trollish village forthwith; I tire."

             
Thorolf gave Yvette a hard look. "Harken, Countess; we've been through this before. I'll investigate this mat
ter as I see fit
—
"

             
"You shall not! Your first duty is to me!"

             
"Rubbish, my dear Yvette! You're not my feudal su
zerain. Abide at the fork or come with me, as you like; the latter were safer."

             
Thorolf started off on the right-hand fork. Yvette waited until he had gone a few steps, then hurried after him. mutterin
g: "Whoreson knotpate! Incondite ass! Defying thy betters like a god-detested revolutionary
—
"

             
Thorolf turned his head to say: "Oh, shut up! To a free Rhaetian, no one's a better."

-

             
She subsided. Thorolf tramped ahead, scanning the ground for tracks.
After half an hour he held up a cau
tionary hand, whispering:

             
"Something's up, ahead! Be very quiet!"

             
"But
—
"

             
"I said
quiet!
Must I gag you?"

             
Cautiously they advanced. In a small depression in the path ahead, three armed men had Doctor Berthar, the director of the Zoological Park in Zurshnitt, backed against a boulder. Holding weapons against his chest and throat, they were relieving him of any
detachable possessions.

             
Thorolf searched among the stones beside the path and found one a little larger than one of his own fists. He breathed: "Stay here whilst I fordo those rogues!"

             
"But three, and at least one in mail! If you lose, what of me?"

             
"
Flee back to Zurshnitt and take refuge with my fa
ther, the Consul. I have my reasons."

             
Without further words, Thorolf drew his sword. Holding the hilt in his left hand and the stone in his right, he stalked quietly toward the group in the hollow. So qui
etly did he move and so intent were the robbers on their victim that he was a mere dozen yards away when one of them cried: "Ho! Look around!"

             
Thorolf broke into a run until, a few feet from the group, he hurled his stone at the mailed swordsman. The roc
k struck the side of the man's head and flung him sprawling in the herbage.

             
Thorolf shifted his sword to his right hand and bored in. He faced one man with a sword and one with a long dagger, neither apparently mailed. He attacked the swordsman with a tr
emendous backhand slash. It was not the skilled swordplay of which Thorolf was capable; but he did it advisedly
—
and what he hoped for hap
pened. The man easily parried, but the other's lighter weapon broke at the impact of Thorolf's heavier blade.

             
The ma
n threw the stump of his sword at Thorolf, who ducked. Then both robbers fled along the trail. Tho
rolf ran after them; but they steadily widened the gap be
tween them and their pursuer. Breathing hard, Thorolf came back to where Berthar was gathering up
t
he loot that the robbers had dropped.

             
"Thorolf!" exclaimed Berthar. "I never expected rescue. If ever I take my seat on the Board, you shall have an appointment for the asking. 'Twere useless
fo
r me to fight at those odds."

             
Thorolf bent over the fallen
man, who was beginning to revive. Thorolf put the point of his sword to the man's throat, saying: "Correct me if I err, sirrah, but methinks you're one of those rascals sent by the Duke of Landai, who assailed my father and me on the banks of the Rissel
l
ast month. Did Gondomar also command you to rob honest citizens of Rhaetia?"

             
When the man merely glared in silence, Thorolf pushed his sword a little harder. "Ouch!" said the man. "If I answer, will you then slay me?"

             
"Nay. I promise not to
—
this time,
anyway
—
an your replies be truthful. I know enough of your doings to catch you in lies. Swink you still for the Duke?"

             
"Nay. We decided in council to quit his service."

             
"After you took the old wizard's treasure chest. Why didst kill poor old Bardi?"

             
" 'Twas not I but Ragned who cut his throat, whilst Offo held him. He'd begun to mutter some spell. Had we not killed him, he had conjured up some demon or monster to slay us instead."

             
"After you killed him, what then?"

             
"We agreed it were more profitab
le to divide the loot and go our ways than to go on risking our lives for this niggardly Duke. Besides, we and our comrades had thrice failed in our efforts to capture that countess with whom he's besotted, and his Pomposity would have taken a fourth fail
u
re ill indeed."

             
"How gat you the chest open, since it was locked by a magical spell?"

             
"We took it to one of your Zurshnitt magicians," said the robber.

             
"Which? Methinks I know, but tell me natheless."

             
"Ouch! Pray, stop prodding me with that thing.
'Twas Doctor Avain."

             
"Thought so. There were seven of you. What's be
fallen the others?"

             
"When we divided the contents, Lodovic accused our captain, Cheldimus, of cheating him, and Cheldimus stabbed Lodovic. That left six to share. Cheldimus took his p
ortion and vanished, saying he was bound for Tyrrhenia to buy an estate and retire. Something about beating's hanger into a plowshare. Ragned got drunk and boasted, so the constables took him. I ween he's been hanged."