On their second night at Gastonhow she was sitting in front of the mirror about to unpin the birdlike bonnet when Ludorica slipped into the room, a long, fur-lined cloak over her arm, her eyes alight with excitement.
“Imbert has done it! I am to go to King Gostar secretly. But not alone, Roane—Lord Imbert thinks you should be with me, that you can bear witness about the tower and your testimony will carry force. Hurry—there is a coach waiting. Where is a cloak?”
She opened the wardrobe and rummaged among its contents. Roane hurried to the bed, to her private hiding place. She felt under the wide pillow and drew out her belt with its off-world equipment. Even temporarily she was not going to be separated from that.
9
The coach awaiting them in the dark courtyard was like the one which had fetched them to Gastonhow. As then, heavy curtains hung in place across the windows, and in the light of a single lantern the interior looked very dark. Lord Imbert himself stood to hand them in, and he murmured something in a very low voice to the Princess before putting out his hand to Roane as she tried to manage the folds of her skirts on the small step.
There was no Colonel to share their ride this time, but the cushions were softer than those of the equipage which had brought them to Gastonhow. The door closed and they were in the total dark, for there was no riding lantern.
“No light!” Apparently the Princess found this strange, but then she added, “I suppose Imbert wishes us to be as inconspicuous as possible.”
“Where do we go?” Roane pulled her cloak about her. The evening was chill and there was a cold which seemed part of the coach itself, as if the vehicle had not been recently in use.
“To Gastonhigh. It is a stead used by the royal family—by Immer Lake. I suppose the Queen wishes mere quiet.”
A swing of the coach sent Roane against the Princess and she heard Ludorica laugh.
“My dear Roane, feel along the wall and you shall find a hold strap. It is best to make use of those when the pace is swift.”
Roane groped for the anchor, running her hand over the side she could not see, though now and then came a faint glimmer of light around the edge of the curtain, as if they drove by some well-lighted site. She found the loop and took firm hold on it, but she wished they could raise the curtains, just so she did not have the impression that they were imprisoned in a jiggling, swaying cage. And once more her stomach rebelled against this form of travel.
“My mother was King Gostar’s cousin,” the Princess said. “I wish I knew on what terms they were. It might strengthen my appeal if they had parted in friendship when she went to Reveny to wed. If he had kind memories of her—”
“Is there any reason why he would not?” Roane asked.
“There are feuds not only among the stead lords, but also in the royal Houses. Am I not so caught with Reddick? And the House of Hillaroy, which is King Gostar’s, have been noted for their quick tempers and many strange actions, even as Imbert has warned us about Gostar. It would seem that since the Guardians cut communication with men there have been many changes in the course of history. Only when we hold the crowns can we be sure of surviving such changes. I must get the Crown! At least Nelis will do what he can to further the search.”
“You sent the Colonel to hunt the Crown?” Roane tensed. What would that mean for Uncle Offlas and Sandar? If a large party of Revenian troops showed up to prospect along the cliffs and so meet the men from the camp— She could see such trouble as had never disgraced a Service operation before. Why, they might even have to lift off!
“He knows the country, and him I can trust. If he moves in boldly, Reddick cannot face him, since I do not believe that until the King is dead the Duke will dare to come into the open.”
“But the Crown—I thought you wanted to keep others from knowing it was hidden.”
“No one shall. For Nelis will wait for me to take it up. None can touch the Crown save me. Nelis is only to find the way to it.”
But what of her own people? Roane thought of them and clung to her strap anchor as the coach rocked on. They must now be traveling at the fastest pace this vehicle was capable of maintaining.
“King Gostar must be impatient,” she commented. “It would seem that he wants us in a hurry, or is this the usual speed of a royal coach?”
The pace grew even faster. In spite of that anchor loop she was shaken back and forth, and she gulped and swallowed with grim determination not to yield to the queasiness of her much-abused interior.
“This—is—too—fast—” The Princess’s words came in little gasps as if shaken out of her. “What can they be—”
There came still another burst of speed and the swing of the coach was such that Roane was sure she could not stand it long before disgracing herself by being thoroughly sick. She held her free hand over her mouth and fought for control.
“What—” The Princess’s voice rose a note. “Roane!” And now her cry was a danger alert. “Feel along the edge of the window if you can. Are you able to raise the curtain?”
Roane tried, but found it difficult. Finally her groping hand did touch what she judged was the edge of the curtain. But that did not yield to her tug. It was rather as if it had been nailed or otherwise sealed in place.
“It is the same on this side! The curtains are fastened down. Now, Roane, can you lean forward, find the latch of the door?”
It seemed perilous to try that. Roane feared that if she loosed her finger-cramping grip of the anchor strap, she might be thrown against the narrow seat facing her. But she stretched and, be-
99 tween more and worse jolts which sent her back and forth, ran her other hand over the inner surface of what she was sure was the door. There was no latch, nothing but a smooth surface. And her fear of a trap added to her sickness until she longed to scream for them to stop. Then came another spell of really violent rocking.
“I—cannot—find— It—is all—smooth!” she gasped.
“Nor—can—I—on—this—side—”
“But why—” Roane began when Ludorica answered her.
“Why? Because we are prisoners. But of whom? Lord Imbert? No—unless he feels he must manage me for some reason he has not told me. But I can guess, Roane, that we are not now bound for Gastonhigh.”
“Where—” Roane was thrown back by a particularly heavy jolt and cried out at a sharp pain in her side.
“What is it?”
“My—but how stupid! I have a light.” The belt she had brought with her, how had she come to forget it? That lapse of memory was another symptom of the fuzzy thinking which had bothered her for days. It was almost as if she did not want to, or could not, remember the familiar things which had been a part of her off-world life. With one hand she worked the beamer out of its loop and turned it on low.
“The doors!”
But she did not need that direction; she had already turned the light on the one through which they had entered. And her exploration by touch had told the truth. There was no sign of a latch. When she moved the beam up to the windows they could see the strips of wood which sealed the curtains down.
“We are prisoners until we arrive and they—whoever they may be—are willing to let us out. But our future hangs on who is behind this-”
“Reddick?”
“Not with Imbert aiding—unless there had come a message purporting to be from the King. Or a substitution of coaches, or— We could offer as many reasons as we have fingers and perhaps still skip the real one. It suffices that we are prisoners, and the reason is less important now than the fact. What other tools or weapons have you that may get us out of here?” As usual she went directly to the most important matter.
“I have this beamer, and a medic kit, and a weapon.” Roane thought of the stunner. “It does not wound, only puts to sleep the one caught in its ray—”
“Such a weapon as your cousin used on me in the cave? But how clever of you to have brought that, Roane! We need only wait until they let us out and then you can put them to sleep and-”