“He had her under mind-globe back there in the cave—but this goes deeper than anything Shambry can devise, holds longer and tighter. You heard the proclamation, the earlier one, that she is going to wed Reddick. It will follow that she will raise him to Prince Consort, and then—how long will it be before he rules Reveny? If she wakes from that spell with his creatures around her, what chance will she have? I tell you, she is as much a prisoner now as I was at Hitherhow. Though she may not yet realize it.”
“Sir.” Mattine was serious now. “I always heard it told that mind-globe spells cannot make anyone do what is against his inner nature.”
“I will not believe,” Imfry said slowly, looking at Mattine, a set, hard line to his jaw, his eyes cold, “that the Princess—the Queen—would have signed my death warrant of her own free will. Nor can anyone who knows her well. Ask you the Lady Roane. She had been much with her.”
They looked to her now. And she gave them the truth. “She is under a spell.”
Mattine and the Sergeant looked disturbed, but Imfry nodded, and some of that hardness left his face.
“You see? The Queen needs our aid. Can we deny her aught we can do?”
“Sir, we can raise no army. If we hide out in the Reserve and send the word about we can muster men, yes, that much I grant you. But an army large enough to go up against those Reddick can easily put in the field, no. And if the Soothspeaker Shambry is so powerful that he can hold the Queen in thrall against her nature, then it may be possible he can do likewise with even us, if he can find a way. Sir—if you will only go over the border —to Leichstan or—”
“And would any neighbor give me refuge? The Queen went to Leichstan and was met by treachery. Could we hope to fare better? We cannot let Reddick drive us out now or there will be no return at all.”
“Well, we need not set off today, sir. We had better think about saving our hides or Reddick will have them skinned off our aching backs,” returned the Sergeant.
“Right you are,” Imfry answered. “This lay-up Haus told you of, is it far?”
“Far enough to keep us moving well for awhile, sir. You feeling it now?” Mattine cut in.
“Less than I thought that I would, thanks to the Lady Roane and those miracles she carries in her jars and tubes. And you, m’lady, do you go with us now?”
He was giving her a choice. But as he spoke she discovered she had already made it—long ago. He wanted an answer to the change in Ludorica, she was sure she had it. Facing Reddick bravely would do no good, not so long as those installations kept clicking away. They would control all—maybe they did even now. And the Service would not move in time to aid, even if
Uncle Offlas managed to bring down the LB and return to the mother ship out in orbit. *
“Yes,” Roane answered simply.
If she expected any encouraging comment from him, she did not get it. Mattine fell into step with her.
“It is still a far piece, m’lady. But at least we can lay up there snug and tight, and watch our back trail without worry. It is one of the old war camps of the Karoff rebellion. The enemy did not take it by storm when it fell, but by treachery. Since we have no traitors we do not have to fear that, now do we?”
Moonrise came, had the moon been able to penetrate thoroughly the drifting clouds, before they reached their destination. Roane never discovered what guides the Sergeant and Mattine used to bring them through the forest to a stony rise and up that by a very wandering and narrow way to a plateau.
There were walls here, crumbling. But, while they had not been built with mortar, they were still intact enough to afford shelter. And that Roane was glad to have. She was breathing hard as she sank down in a corner niche and sat, her feet stretched out before her. They had not pressed on as hard during that journey as she had imagined they might, probably because her companions had wanted to spare Imfry. But the Colonel had regained some of his old endurance, for which she thanked her medical supplies. His shoulder seemed to give him much less trouble. Even during their last climb he had not favored it much.
Where they were in reference to the off-world camp or the hidden installation, Roane did not know, but that Imfry might be able to find his way to the latter she hoped. The question remained as to whether he would do it if he knew of the danger Uncle Offlas had prophesied. On the other hand, she was as sure as if she had definite knowledge that there was no hope of freeing Ludorica except via the defeat of the machines.
“Now, sir.” Wuldon had made a circuit of the ancient fortifications, returned to stand before his officer as if on duty and making a formal report. “We got you here safe and sound. Our boys who laid that false trail should have been free long ago and ought now to be waiting at the Twisted Sword. We will all breathe easier when we get together. So, with your permission, I will jog on to pick them up. And Mattine—he has to reach Pin Crossing to see about fresh mounts—”
“Sounds as if you have made a lot of plans, Wuldon.” Was there a hint of surprise in Imfry’s voice?
“Best we could, sir. Not knowing that you would be more yourself—as you are. If you want to change them—”
“Why? I can be sure that they are the best under the circumstances. Good luck—Guardian’s Fortune—to you both.”
“We will whistle the old call, sir, when we come back. There is a good deadfall over the high path in, one of those traps we used to set in the Nimp times. Pull the lock rock and it will close off the path—take a full company a day to clear it. Guardian’s Fortune to you, too, sir, and to mladyl”
He gave a salute which Mattine echoed, and they were gone, lost in shadows before Roane could blink. In this dark she could only be sure she still had a companion when he moved. Fingers touched her arm, slid down until they closed, warm, alive about her wrist, where her own hand lay limp on her knee. “Why did you come?”
Enmeshed as she was in a tangle of thoughts she was too tired to bring into order, she answered with the real truth: “Because of the dream—” “Dream?”
Somehow it was easier to talk when there was only that quiet question out of the dark, that loose clasp about her wrist. And there was relief in speech, as if she were ridding herself of a long-carried burden. Whether he would believe her or not, Roane did not at that moment care. It was enough to put it all into words.
She began with the dream, trying to make it live for him as it had for her, bringing every detail to mind—the room, the dishes on the table, Ludorica’s ceremonial entrance behind the usher, her ladies-in-waiting, the presence of Reddick—
“I could not hear what they said, I only saw their lips move. It was like watching a defective tri-dee in which the sound track had been cut away. But it was alive—it was!” She lost herself in remembering. There was a need to make him understand how she had seen it all. “I have dreamed before, who does not? But never like this.”
“A true sending.” His words reached her out of the dark. Now she realized also that his grasp on her wrist had tightened until it hurt by its pressure, and she pulled, trying to free herself.
“A sending?” She made of that a question.
“You have far sight—”
“No,” she objected. “I was tested—I have no esper power. It was a dream.”
“Of the small chamber in Urkermark High Keep, of the Queen wearing Court mourning, of the signing of the warrant which may mean my death. When were you last in Urkermark High Keep, Lady Roane?”
“I was never there.”
“The time has come”—his words were even, measured—”for us to speak frankly. If truth does not lie between us now, it never will—and we must have truth! Do you understand that?”
The last choice of all. And she saw in the dark, as well as if she did indeed face it, that row of clicking machines, each with its crown, its slaves. And she saw the Ludorica she did not know, the stranger she feared, who held a crown in her hands.