Ravenna smiled, and it was as predatory as any either Garth or Joseph had seen on her mother’s face. “But I can reach her tonight.”
There was utter silence about the table, then Vorstus grinned. “You are more of a witch-lady than I had realised, Ravenna. Save Nona Baxtor then, if you can.”
It was a challenge, and Ravenna knew it. “You have not seen half of what I can accomplish yet, Vorstus.” She paused. “Watch, if you dare.”
She turned for a moment to Joseph. “Venetia will need some message from you, something that will identify her as a friend to Nona and convince her of the urgency of the need to hasten away. What can I give her?”
Joseph thought, chewing his lip. “Tell Venetia that I asked Nona to be my wife on a seventh-day, and that we were married on a seventh-day, and that,” his colour deepened, “Garth was conceived on a seventh-day.” He cleared his throat as his son shifted uncomfortably. “It has always been a joke between us that seventh-day, the only day I take off from my duties as a physician, has been the only day of the week when I can be a true husband to her.”
Ravenna stared at him, then she leaned across the table and gently touched his hand. “Thank you,” she said softly.
Then she abruptly stood up from the table. “Isus, would you open the door for me? Only slightly, I will need but a small gap.”
As Isus moved across to the doorway and silently activated the mechanism that operated the rock door, Ravenna paced in circles about the centre of the chamber.
Maximilian, who all thought to have been asleep, rolled over and gazed curiously at her.
Ravenna folded her hands tightly before her; so tightly the others could see her knuckles gleaming white. She frowned, and began to mutter inaudibly, her voice a low monotone that murmured through the room. The only word that the others could occasionally make out was the name of her mother, Venetia.
After some time Garth stiffened, as did everyone else watching, save Maximilian; he still gazed at her with nothing more than curiosity.
A mist was forming about Ravenna’s tightly clasped hands and, as they watched, it solidified until it became a perfectly spherical silver ball.
Ravenna pulled her hands apart, but the ball remained, and the girl cradled it lovingly to her breast for a moment. She looked up, and Garth drew in a shocked breath. Her eyes were now so colourless they reflected the silver of the ball she held in her hands.
“Venetia!” Ravenna cried, and threw the ball into the air.
It circled about the room five times, increasing its speed with each circuit, then abruptly it dipped and rushed for the door. Isus stepped back hurriedly, avoiding a collision by only a breath.
There was a whisper of air as it passed through the doorway, and then it was gone.
“That was very pretty,” Maximilian said into the silence.
Ravenna turned slowly and regarded him. “Pretty? Yes, it was, Maximilian. Thank you.”
Maximilian smiled for her, his eyes feverish, then he lay down and went back to sleep.
“Nona will be safe by noon tomorrow,” Ravenna said, laying her hand briefly on Joseph’s shoulder, then she sat down, smiling slightly at the expression on the men’s faces. Of them all, Maximilian’s reaction had been the only one she valued.
“Well,” Joseph said, “if Nona is safe, then I guess that Garth and I will cast our lot in with you…and with,” he glanced over to the bed, “the rightful king of Escator, Maximilian Persimius.”
There were smiles all about. “Good,” Vorstus said. “Now, I suggest we discuss how to get Maximilian away from here and into the royal forests to the east. I thought that perhaps we could smuggle him out in a cart of supplies.”
Garth and his father exchanged looks.
“No,” Joseph said. “Fennon Furst, the overseer, well knows the true identity of Lot No. 859—Maximilian told Garth that was the one name he remembered from his kidnap. Furst is putting an effort into the recapture of this prisoner that has never been seen before—several of the guards are commenting on it. The upshot of it is that everything leaving this area is being searched, and anyone not recognised by the guards is not being allowed through the cordon that has been thrown about the Veins—and Myrna itself—without rigorous inquisition.”
The monks exchanged troubled looks. “Then what can we do?” asked Isus as he returned from closing the door.
Joseph looked at the ceiling, then looked at his hands, then studied a minor whorl in the table surface in intimate detail. “I think I know a way,” he mumbled.
“Yes?” asked Vorstus impatiently.
“To effect his escape to the forest I shall have to visit the Ladies’ House in Myrna,” Joseph said, then blushed at the expression in his son’s eyes. “You can stay here, Garth, and sit with Maximilian as he sleeps. I’ll collect you as I return by here towards morning.” He looked about at the monks and Ravenna. “With luck, by tomorrow evening Maximilian will be well on his way to the forests.”
SEVENTEEN
THE FAIR LADIES OF MYRNA GO ON A PICNIC
Joseph and Garth scrunched through the sooty soil towards Furst’s office in the morning’s grey light. Both were silent, their faces tense even though they fought to remain expressionless.
Joseph had returned to the hollow hill late into the night, spoke quietly with Vorstus and Ravenna for some minutes, glanced at Maximilian’s sleeping back, then had collected a still-puzzled Garth and had returned to the physicians’ quarters—earning some sly grins at the lateness of their passing from the guards they encountered.
Garth had tried to question his father, but Joseph had only grunted that for the moment the least Garth knew the safer it would be. And with that Garth had to be satisfied.
At least he could guess the reason they visited Furst this morning.
The overseer was flushed and visibly nervous, his red hair standing in odd spikes where the man had run terse hands through it. Papers drifted across his desk as Joseph and Garth entered, and he mumbled a curse. “Yes?”
“Fennon,” Joseph said calmly, and Garth wondered that his father could speak so naturally. “The Veins is in chaos. None of the physicians are being allowed down at the moment, and we all sit pointlessly about the fire exchanging months-old gossip. Garth and I might as well go—”
“You can’t,” Furst interrupted tersely. “You’ve only just arrived. Three weeks is the minimum that you serve.”
“Ah,” Joseph murmured politely, and reached inside his cloak, pulling out a letter. He handed it to Furst. “You may not be aware, my friend, that the king has asked me to attend the court as his personal physician. This letter serves to cut short my service at the Veins if I so desire. Do you recognise his seal?”
Furst stared at the letter, then thrust it back to Joseph. “An elevation of some note, Joseph. Well, I suppose you can go. This has been a worthless trip for you; all the way from Ruen only for a day’s service.”
Joseph spread his hands in a gesture of resignation. “Well, the escape of this damned prisoner has thrown everyone’s routine into chaos, Fennon. If it had not been for him, well then, Garth and I would have been happy to stay here and study the fungal infections of the Veins in some greater detail.”
“Humph.” Furst stared back at the papers on his desk. The past night had been a bad one for him. Where was he? “Leaving this morning?”
Joseph nodded.
“Well, perhaps I’ll see you at court.” Furst paused, and both Joseph and Garth noted his pale face and the dark circles under his eyes. “This prisoner is proving hard to catch. If I can’t find him…” Furst’s voice trailed off and his eyes shadowed.
“No doubt he tripped and fell down one of the unused shafts within moments of his escape,” Joseph said soothingly.
“If only,” Furst whispered, then waved them out.
“Father?” Garth asked as they mounted their horses. “Will you tell me what’s going on?”
Joseph took a deep breath, the only sign of nerves that he had exhibited so far, and turned his horse’s head for the road. “We’ll no doubt meet up with them soon, Garth. On the road beyond Myrna, if not sooner.”
“But the guards…”
Joseph grinned, but it did not ease the worry in his eyes. “I have every hope the guards will not take too much notice of them, Garth. Now, come.”
Garth stifled his impatience as he urged his own horse forward and tugged at the lead rope of the packhorse. Several guards, en route to the shaft, waved unsmilingly; Furst had driven them through the night in his efforts to find Lot No. 859, and now both eyes and tempers were scratchy from lack of sleep.