Dragon Wing – Death Gate Cycle 1. Margaret Weis & Tracy Hickman

Hugh shot this verbal arrow aimlessly, not expecting to hit anything. His shaft found a target, however, burying itself deep, from the looks of it. Alfred’s face went a sickly green, the whites of his eyes showed clearly around the gray iris, and his lips moved soundlessly. Stricken, he stared speechless at Hugh.

So, thought the Hand, this is beginning to make sense. At least it explains the kid’s strange name. He glanced over at Bane. The child was rummaging through Alfred’s pack.

“Did you bring my sweetmelts? Yes!” Triumphantly he dug the candy out. “I knew you wouldn’t forget.”

“Get your things together, Your Highness,” ordered Hugh, throwing his fur cloak over his shoulders and hefting his own pack.

“I’ll do that, Your Highness.” Alfred sounded relieved, glad for something to occupy his mind and his hands and keep his face averted from Hugh’s. Out of three steps across the floor, he missed only one, which brought him to his knees, where he needed to be anyway. With great goodwill he set to do battle with the prince’s blanket.

“Alfred, you had a view of the landscape when you traveled. Do you know where we are?”

“Yes, Sir Hugh.” The chamberlain, sweating in the chill air, did not dare look up, lest the blanket take him unawares. “1 believe this village is known as Watershed.”

“Watershed,” repeated the Hand. “Don’t wander off, Your Highness,” he added, noticing the prince starting to skip out of the door.

The boy glanced back. “I just want to look around outside. I won’t go far and I’ll be careful.”

The chamberlain had given up attempting to fold the blanket and had at last stuffed it bodily into the pack. When the boy had disappeared out the door, Alfred turned to face Hugh.

“You will allow me to accompany you, won’t you, sir? I won’t be any trouble, I swear.”

Hugh gazed at him intently.

“You understand that you can never go back to the palace, don’t you?”

“Yes, sir. I’ve set fire to my bridge, as they say.”

“You haven’t just set it on fire. You’ve cut it from the bank and dumped it down the gorge.”

Alfred ran a trembling hand over his bald pate and stared at the floor.

“I’m taking you with me to look after the kid. You understand, he’s not to go back to the palace either. I’m very good at tracking. It would be my duty to stop you before you did anything foolish, like trying to sneak him away.”

“Yes, sir. That’s understood.” Alfred raised his eyes and looked directly into Hugh’s. “You see, sir, I know the reason the king hired you.”

Hugh flicked a glance outside. Bane was gleefully throwing rocks at a tree. His arms were thin, his throw clumsy. He continually fell short of the mark, but patiently and cheerfully kept at it.

“You know about the plot against the prince’s life?” Hugh questioned easily, his hand, beneath his cloak, moving to the hilt of his sword.

“I know the reason,” repeated Alfred. “It’s why I’m here. I won’t get in the way, sir, I promise you.”

Hugh was confounded. Just when he thought the web was unraveling, it got more tangled. The man knew the reason, he said. It sounded as if he meant the real reason! He knows the truth about the kid, whatever that is. Has he come to help or hinder? Help, that was almost laughable. This chamberlain couldn’t dress himself without help. Yet, Hugh had to admit, he’d done an extremely efficient job of tailing them; not an easy matter on a dark night made darker by enchanted fog. And, at the Kir monastery, he had managed to conceal not only himself but also his dragon from a wizard’s six senses. But someone that skilled in tracking, hiding, and tailing had fainted dead away when he felt a knife at his throat.

There was no doubt this Alfred was a servant-the prince obviously knew him and treated him as such. But whom was he serving? The Hand didn’t know, and he meant to find out. Meanwhile, whether Alfred was truly the fool he appeared or a cunning liar, the man had his uses, not the least of which would be to take charge of His Highness.