He blinked in surprise and then laughed uneasily. “I suppose it would be mutiny at least, if you want to put it that way.” Strange and lovely man! Ylo was very conscious of his good looks and sometimes lately he seemed just a little ashamed of the use he put them to, but he never, ever gave himself credit for all his good qualities. Like heroism.
“The legate would put it that way!” She squeezed him tighter. ”Hawk’s risking his life for you, delaying that dispatch. That’s something Hardgraa won’t have thought of!”
“Mutiny? Young idiot! You’re right.” Ylo grinned devilishly. ”Know something funny? That son he mentioned? It could be mine. The timing would be right.”
Eshiala released him and turned her back. “Pretty, is she, his Anlya?’
“Er . . . Well, I thought she was dazzling. Since I’ve met you I know she was a squint-eyed, flabby, poxy dwarf.” Now he tried to put his arms around her and she stepped away.
“So this shortcut could be a trap? Hawk and his friends?” Ylo gulped audibly and she turned.
He shook his head. “No. Hawk’s too impulsive! If he even suspected that, he’d have ridden me down, or run me through right here. He wouldn’t set traps, it’s not his way. Anlya told me how—well, never mind. If he says we can bypass Pinebridge, then we can bypass Pinebridge. We can skip Gaaze and head east, to Castino or Angot . . . ”
She laughed sadly. “Oh, Ylo, Ylo, my darling! One of these days some husband’s going to come after you with a gang of thugs and—”
“Not any more. I’m trying to tell you—”
“But if you think this shortcut’s a good idea, then I suppose we don’t have anything much to—”
“Eshiala, will you listen to me a moment?”
“I am listening. Hawk won’t be able to give us—”
“No you’re not. We ought to separate, really, because it’s me the men of the XIIth know, not you, and—”
“No!” she shouted.
“I’m a rake.”
“I know that, darling. Just now I’m the one being, er, raked, and I love—”
“I’m landless and penniless and the only skill I’ve got is seduction. I’m a liar—”
“I know that, too.” She doubted that he had ever told her one untrue word. She wanted to hold him, kiss him—anything. She could barely keep her hands off him when they were alone, but they ought to be on their way, not standing here jabbering like a pair of parrots.
“I don’t lie to the Gods, though.”
“We must—What do you mean?”
“Eshiala, my darling, will . . . Will you marry me?”
“Ylo! You don’t mean that?”
He shrugged. “Well, I was just hoping. Not just because it’ll make Hardgraa’s job harder. Not only that. I mean, I’m crazily in love with you, like I’ve never been with any woman.”
“Ylo!”
Wonder in his eyes . . . “I just realized now-when Hawk said . . . I just thought of them separating us, and knew I couldn’t bear the thought of ever losing you, but you would be crazy to trust me, and—”
Her mouth was on his. Then his arms were around her, crushing her to him.
Maya came running over and pounded fists on them, wanting to be included. When she began to scream, Ylo broke off the embrace to scoop her up. His face was as flushed as Eshiala knew her own must be, but the sunlight danced in his eyes.
“That means yes?” he asked, clutching her with one arm and Maya with the other.
“Oh, yes, yes!”
Yes yes yes yes yes yes yes . . .
2
The sun was setting in Guwush.
The previous evening, Inos had thought that Highscarp was a horrid little place, ugly and squalid. Now she knew that Yugg was much worse—smaller, uglier, and squalider. The post inn was a hovel of timber and sagging thatch, its stableyard a morass of filth. Yugg looked like it sounded. It smelled even more so.
She thought she would always remember it with love. It was full of birdsong and rainbows for her. Rap was alive!
Grumbling passengers were still climbing down from the stage. The baggage was being unloaded by innumerable gnomes of indiscernible age and sex, grotesque little figures in grimy rags swarming over the carriage like ants. They bore off the booty in streams, four or five to a heavy valise and seven or eight under a trunk, running through the mire, splashing it around gleefully with their bare feet and piping excitedly in high-pitched voices. Whatever their faults, whatever their circumstances, gnomes were usually content.
Inos stood in the mud and stench with Shandie and the warlock, hearing hardly half of what the dwarf was saying. Dragons burning up legions, goblins ripped apart, Olybino dead . . . It was all horrible, yet little of it registered. Olybino had named Rap as the leader of the resistance and the usurper had not denied it, so Rap had certainly not been caught by the Covin and must be assumed to be still at large as far as Zinixo was aware. Rap was alive!
So perhaps one day they would meet again? Back home in distant little Krasnegar, king and queen together once more? That seemed so horribly impossible still, and if it happened she would have to tell him how she had blundered, how she had lost their son and daughter—Gath off adventuring into mortal danger in Nordland and Kadie abducted by goblins. A God had warned him he must lose a child, and Inos had crazily lost two. Even Holi and Eva, back in Krasnegar, might be in danger or even dead for all she knew now. Much as she wanted Rap, could she ever bring herself to look him in the eye again?
Gath might yet survive, but Kadie . . . Oh, Gods! She thought back to what Raspnex had said about the goblins’ fate. Not dragons, at least. That had been the legions. Anything would be better than dragons.
“Sorcery?” she said, interrupting him. “What did you say happened to the goblins?”
He peered up angrily under his broad-brimmed hat, an aging human nail keg, eyes like gray agates above a beard of iron turnings. Then his glare softened. ”Just naked power, ma’am. I couldn’t tell much at this distance. I mean, I don’t know if it was specifically directed at the greenies or would destroy . . . Sorry, Inos. I just don’t know.”
“You all right?” Shandie demanded.
Of course she was not all right! “I’m fine,” she said. Oh, Kadie, Kadie!
Shandie glanced at the inn and pulled a face. “We should go get you a stiff drink.” He did not move, though. This open yard was a safer place to talk than anywhere indoors would be. He looked down at the dwarf. “Anything else?”
“Isn’t that enough? Slag, what a day!” Raspnex scowled, and even for him it was a vicious grimace. “Who’s going to believe in us when we pass up an opportunity like that? We let East get blasted and did nothing! Why didn’t Rap sound the charge? Why didn’t I?”
The imperor shrugged. “Well, why didn’t you?”
“Mostly because the dragons were still in the sky. If the Covin had released its hold on them, they’d have run amok.” The imperor nodded. ”Then I expect that’s why Rap didn’t” The dwarf nodded and stuffed his big hands in his pockets. He stared down at his boots, seeming oddly childlike for an elderly, tough-as-rocks sorcerer. “So now what?” he growled. ”We don’t have to spread the news anymore. The word’s out, may the Gods cherish his soul.”
Shandie flashed a meaningful glance at Inos over the crown of the dwarf’s hat. The two warlocks had not been friends. From Raspnex, that had been a rare and precious tribute to a dead hero.
“Amen.”
The warlock kicked at a lump of filth. “You don’t need to bother with gnomish rebels now. We don’t have to stay on in this pigpen, thank the Powers. Leave tomorrow.”
Shandie drew a deep breath and almost gagged in consequence. “Well, I’ll admit that’s a relief. For both reasons. Let’s think about it.” He turned again to face the inn. “Do you suppose they charge by the bed or by the bug?”
Inos thought, Kadie! and squared her shoulders. Kadie might have been dead for months; she could well have died in some much more horrible way than just being blasted by sorcery. She must not dwell on that. Likely she would never know what had happened to her daughter. The Gods would . . . Her hand found something.
She pulled a thin tube from the pocket of her cloak and frowned at it.
“What’s that?” Shandie demanded. Very little escaped him. “I don’t know.” The paper had a gnomish look to it, tattered and soiled. She unrolled it.
I have no quarrel with