In The Prince's Secret Service - 14. Face-To-Face with Evil

The companions sat around the table in their room at the Crown-in-Shield. “There’s no question…we have to explore the swamp. We need a guide and a boat,” James said. “The baron’s not going to be able to help, not if we’re going to keep our mission secret.”

“I don’t think he could find a boat and a guide, anyway…he’s just too powerful to be able to do something simple like that…and interesting conundrum,” Patrick mused.

As the tweens pondered the situation, acutely aware of the unspoken deadline created by the likely capture of the baron’s son, Thom spoke up.

“Would the young gentlemen,” he giggled, “consider asking Michael?”

Alan grabbed the boy and kissed him. “You’re brilliant, you know!” Alan yanked the bell pull.

Within seconds, Michael materialized at the door. “Michael, we wish to mount a hunting trip in the great swamp west of Agium. We require a guide who knows the area and is unafraid, and a suitable boat, large enough for us, the guide, and several days’ supplies. We’ll need someone tend our horses at the edge of the swamp or nearby while we are on the hunt. Can you arrange this?”

The boy paused only for a moment. “And when did you wish to leave?”

“If we’re going to reach the swamp by sunset tomorrow, I guess we’d better leave…now.” Alan replied.

“It is true, then,” Michael gasped, “You’re going to rescue the baron’s son! He’s in the swamp!”

Alan pushed the door shut; Patrick strode across the room until he was just inches from Michael. “Just what do you know about that,” he asked, sternly.

“Nothing, really,” Michael stood his ground, “You must know that I have a friend at the palace. He told me that the baron’s son was missing after a caravan raid, and that you were with the baron all day today, and that after you left he heard the baron tell the baroness that there was hope, now, for their son. When you said, just now, that you wanted to go on a hunting trip in the swamp, I guessed that what you were hunting was the baron’s son. That’s all, truly!”

“Michael,” Patrick began, “You and your friend have indeed guessed the truth of things; but if you or he let slip this information, it could mean our deaths and the death of the baron’s son. I must ask you to swear not to reveal what you know about our plans.”

“That won’t be necessary. You see, I’m going with you,” Michael said. “And so is my friend.”

Patrick silenced Alan’s “See here…” with a gesture. “Why do you say that, Michael?”

“My friend and I are from Amite; that’s a village on the southeast edge of the swamp. We played and fished and hunted in the swamp all our lives. And now…now that I know the baron’s son is in the swamp, I know exactly where he is!”

“Explain, please?” Patrick asked.

“There’s an old fortress on an island in the swamp. It’s the only place he could be…it’s the only place the caravan raiders could be. I’m sure of it!”

Patrick looked at Alan, then James. “Well?”

“Yes,” said James.

“Yes,” said Alan.

“Thom, Kenneth?” Patrick asked. The boys nodded.

“Very well…we leave now,” Patrick said. “Alan, please see to my pack. Michael and I will join you in the stable. Michael, have you clothes for this trip? Can you leave the inn’s service? Where can we get a horse for you? Who is your friend…we need to send him and the baron a message…”

“Always the practical one,” Alan chuckled as he carefully and quickly stowed his and Patrick’s gear.

*****

In response to Patrick’s hastily written note, dispatched to the palace, came Michael’s friend—not a page, but a squire to the baron—a tween named Daniel. The boy led two horses loaded with trail supplies and extra quivers of arrows, as well as seven sturdy boar spears. And he carried a hastily written letter from the baron.

So… my squire Daniel and his friend Michael are going to lead you to the swamp where my son is. I am to know that he is in a large, ancient fortress in the swamp, in case you do not return. Because of the pattern of the attacks, you suspect that the Dark Forces have spies in Agium, so I must muddle the trail behind you. I will let it be overheard that you are going to hunt boar in the mountains east of Graham. I will also publicly plan to launch a counter-attack on the brigands in five days. This will involve staging troops in towns north and east on the Royal Road, drawing the spies’ attention there.

Patrick, I give these two tweens into your charge as leader of your companions. I would not see them or you harmed even to save my own son’s life and I despair that they and you may come to harm in the service of the Light.

Centis

“What I don’t understand is why are we going in by boat? The raiders have horses. Do they keep the horses somewhere and take boats to the fortress?” Kenneth was perplexed.

“No,” Daniel answered. “There is a road leading from the fortress north and then east. It goes from island to island on stone causeways that were built thousands of years ago, but still stand. It’s a much longer trip, and each island is a potential ambush site.”

“Michael, can we leave our horses safely? Can we get a boat that will hold the seven of us? How to we ensure that someone who sees us won’t betray us?” Alan ticked off the critical elements of the plan.

“If I had never left Amite, I would be offended by your questions, but since Daniel and I have lived in Agium, we’ve seen a lot more of the world. And we’ve seen what Evil is. There is no Evil in Amite; and, we know everyone in the town—except for the babies born since we were last there—and they know us. When we tell them that you have come to fight Evil, there is nothing they won’t do for you.”

Michael was right. He and Daniel told their fathers that the companions had come to rescue a boy being held captive by Evil ones and needed a pirogue and someone to watch their horses for a while. And it happened. The tweens told their fathers that if anyone other than agents of the baron or the prince followed, they were to be turned away. And they were assured that it would be done. The fathers asked if several boatloads of armed men and tweens would be better than one, and accepted Patrick’s assurance that it was best that the force be small.

*****

The swamp was wreathed in fog. Still water dotted with mud islands covered with reeds and mangrove trees extended as far as could be seen…which wasn’t far. The water formed narrow channels between these islands. Usually there was no more than a foot of clearance on either side of the pirogue; sometimes the sides of the boat scraped the shores or tree roots of the islands on either side. The swamp was noisy with the trill and caw of birds, the droning of insects, the rub-dub of frogs, and other, less familiar sounds.

An island rose from the water. It was larger and more substantial than the others. A fortress stood upon the island. Although it was partly in ruins, the walls, which appeared to be made of a slick, gray stone, still rose some fifty feet. Crenellated towers once stood at the corners, three of which were visible from the adventurers’ position off the south-east corner. The fortress was oriented to face the east…the rising sun…suggesting it once was a place of Light. The three towers that the companions could see had been broken off at the top. The great gate in the long east wall hung from its hinges. A narrow ramp of packed earth led from the water to the gate. A stone causeway was visible to the north. There were no signs of life.

The boys waited, nestled in a patch of reeds, until midnight, and then poled quietly to the northern eastern edge of the island.

“Daniel, Michael, you can serve this battle best by waiting here, hidden. If we survive, there will almost certainly be injured to take back to Amite for healing. If we don’t survive, there must be someone to carry word back to Amite and to the baron,” Patrick began.

The tweens protested, but Patrick continued, “Your hearts are great and your courage is strong. But neither of you has killed. Today in that fortress is not the time or place for you to see the light die in the eyes of someone your sword has just impaled. You must wait.”

Soberly the two tweens nodded their agreement.

“Listen for the whistle of the mockingbird,” Alan added, “It will then be safe to come for us. If you hear the crow, flee and notify your parents and the baron. Do likewise if you hear nothing by nightfall of the coming day.”

*****

It had proven easy to enter the fortress: a fallen section of wall provided a route as well as cover. The fortress was built on an old style. The bastians on the corners contained quarters for nobles and officers. The entire courtyard was used as a stable and marshalling yard for troops. Quarters for the troops were underground. Only one of the four bastians was intact. Alan pointed to it; Patrick nodded. He had carefully examined the magical field, attempting to fix the location of their enemies. The results were imprecise, but they suggested that a creature with some degree of magical power was located well above ground level.

Strategy had been discussed and agreed: Patrick and James would seek the leader, presumed to be a mage, and engage him. Alan, Kenneth, and Thom would search for the baron’s son. Stealth was to be observed. “It’s likely that they’ll be asleep,” Patrick had said. “It’s possible that they’ll be drunk.” At least, Patrick thought, I hope so. The manifest for the most recently raided caravan, which would have been overlooked save for Patrick’s curiosity, included several wagons loaded with barrels of brandywine.

Patrick gestured to James, and the two boys skirted the wall, headed for the barbican—the likely location of the leader’s quarters. Alan, followed by the two youngest of the companions, crept toward a corner of the courtyard where stone stairs could be seen leading downward.

*****

Patrick and James had tried to take the mage by surprise; however, they’d not counted on the guard—a Human armed and armored—who was neither asleep nor drunk. James drew his sword and moved toward the guard while drawing him away from the mage. Patrick approached the mage. It was difficult to draw power from the magical field—the distortion caused by the active presence of Evil had twisted the lines, made them feel slippery. They are slippery, Patrick thought. Hard to get purchase. Visualizing his hands to be coated with sand, Patrick grasped for power and prepared to hurl it at the mage.

James was pushed against the wall. His belt caught on a hook and supported him for a moment before it broke. James fell heavily. The contents of his belt pouch spilled onto the floor.

The talisman! James thought, recognizing the ivory, scrimshaw medallion he’d taken from the body of a Troll killed—was it so short a time ago? It’s glowing. Well, Kenneth said it did, but I couldn’t see it, then.

Raising his dagger, James thrust it not at the man who had attacked him, and who was about to plunge a sword into his side, but into the center of the talisman. There was a flash, that lasted only for an instant. Apparently it was visible to mundane eyes as well as mage sight, for the man hesitated and his sword stopped before it ended James’ life. The man recovered quickly, but before he could attack again, there was another flash. The man fell. His sightless eyes stared at James as his sword fell from dead fingers.

Across the room, the bolt of power cast by Patrick struck the mage who staggered, and then collapsed. James did not see this. By the time he had rolled the body of the dead guard off of himself and stood, both Patrick and the mage lay motionless.

*****

Kenneth paused on the steps, and looked down. “Darkness, but not strong Evil,” he reported to Alan, who nodded. “Ahead, then,” the tween whispered. Behind Alan, Thom nervously fingered his quarterstaff. Patrick had told him to rely on it, and he trusted Patrick, still, he’d rather have steel in his hands…

From the bottom of the steps, a wide, low-ceilinged hallway stretched as far as they could see. Feeble illumination came from torches, guttering in wall brackets, but even those extended only about 50 feet. The hallway was wide enough to walk five or six abreast. Alan walked in the center, his longsword in hand. Kenneth was on his right and Thom on his left. The younger boys walked slightly behind the tween. On both sides of the hall they saw empty cells, doors agape.

Without warning, two Trolls burst from a door ahead and on the right; just as suddenly, three more Trolls ran from the door on the opposite wall. The three companions were facing five Trolls. Had the ceiling been any lower, the Trolls heads would have scraped it…the shortest was as tall as Alan, and the others were several inches taller.

Kenneth stepped to the right, widening the distance between himself and Alan; at the same time, Thom stepped to the left. As Alan slowed, the boys stood beside him, a united front. There is no escape but to fight and win; they would not flee.

The Trolls rushed to attack, and met more resistance than they could have expected. Thom swung his quarterstaff under the sword of one, striking it on its left hip. The Troll literally exploded, covering its brothers with a stinking slime. Alan’s sword found the head of another, and the young tween nearly sliced the Troll in half, through the head and neck, and down to the breastbone before he yanked the sword from the creature. Kenneth’s sword met the thrust of a Troll, which the boy adroitly turned, leaving the creature’s belly open to a slash from Kenneth’s poniard. The Troll dropped his sword and grabbed its guts as it sank to its knees.

The two remaining Trolls sensed that Kenneth was the weakest, and stepped over their fallen brother to attack the boy. Thom seized the opening, and thunked one across its back while Alan and Kenneth simultaneously thrust swords through the chest and belly of the last standing troll. Thom’s quarterstaff sliced through the Troll as if the wooden stick were a sword. The boys stepped back. The floor was awash in Troll parts and body fluids.

Alan took a torch from the wall and whirled it through the air, whipping it into bright flames. As he did so, Kenneth blinked and winced.

“What happened? Sparks fly in your eye?” Alan asked.

“No, something else, a flash of magic…it’s gone, now,” Kenneth replied.

The hallway extended perhaps 70 feet. On each side were doors. Alan opened the first one he came to. Beds, a table. In this room were two Human men who looked as if they had fallen asleep as they were putting on their armor. They lay crumpled in the middle of the floor. Kenneth enters the cell and looked at them. “Dead,” he reported.

The next cell contained five Humans, likewise fallen in the middle of dressing. “Dead,” Kenneth said, his voice quivering. The next three cells contained Lizoids. “Dead…no, this one’s alive…no, he’s gone.” Kenneth sobbed.

Thom held his friend. “It’s okay, Kenneth, it’s okay. Come on. Just a few more.”

The next cell held more Humans. “Dead, all dead,” Kenneth said.

The next cell held Human tweens. “Alive, but barely…no, gone! Dead! What’s happening?” Kenneth cried.

They continued down the hallway finding in cell after cell…Humans, Trolls, Lizoids, men and tweens, all dead.

“What killed them?” Alan asked.

“I…I’m not sure. Something Dark. It was if there were a dark tangle of magic… Evil… where their boy magic should have been.”

“Boy magic…boy…boy! Alan,” Thom interrupted, “We didn’t find a boy. None of the bodies were boys. We haven’t found the baron’s son!” He grabbed Alan’s hand, and tugged him down the hallway, toward a flight of stairs.

When the trio reached the bottom of the stone stairs, they paused. “Kenneth, you’ve got to lead us…can you find the boy?” Alan asked, gently.

Kenneth stifled a sob. “I’ll try,” he said, wiping at his eyes. Concentrating, he looked at the magic field. It was dark and distorted. The lines had been warped by the long practice of Dark spells and rituals. Kenneth began walking down another hallway, looking for something he did not know, but hoping he would recognize it when he saw it.

“Through here…something alive…” Kenneth pointed to a door. Alan stepped forward and glanced at Thom. Thom raised his quarterstaff to high guard, and nodded. Alan lifted the latch and pushed the door open, slamming it against the wall. His torch revealed a room in which a boy lay huddled in a corner, naked and filthy. The boy’s eyes reflected the light of the torch. There was a flicker of defiance—and something else.

“He’s alive,” Alan said. “Kenneth…”

Kenneth was already striding across the room. “He’s the same…the black knot…but not as solid…not as old.”

“Is it the baron’s son?” Thom asked.

“I don’t know,” Kenneth answered. “But he’s a boy who needs help.” As Kenneth spoke, the boy’s eyes closed and he collapsed onto the floor.

The magic field within the fortress was so distorted that Kenneth had difficulty gathering the power he needed to heal. He gathered what he could and attacked the knot. Slowly it unraveled. There…a pattern…there, the same pattern, I have it now… Kenneth thought as he unraveled one layer of the knot, and then another. More energy…I need more energy… He strained to pull useful power from the distorted field. Reaching deep inside himself, he pulled every ounce of boy magic he had into the knot. As boy magic faded, Kenneth drew on his own Life Force. There! It’s unraveled…it’s falling apart…it’s… and Kenneth fell to the floor, unconscious.

Alan put his hand to Kenneth’s throat, then to the unknown boy’s. “They’re both alive. We’ve got to get them out of here, and to James and Patrick. Can you carry the boy? I’ll carry Kenneth. There…over your shoulder…left hand here…keep your right hand free…”

Minutes later, Alan stepped through the broken gate of the fortress and whistled the call of the mockingbird, although no bird was ever quite that loud. He still carried Kenneth. Thom stepped beside Alan, bowed under the weight of the boy they’d rescued. James staggered a little under Patrick’s weight.

Michael and Daniel burst from the reeds at the edge of the bayou less than 50 yards away and run toward them, swords drawn. “Are they…?” Michael called as he saw the unconscious figures.

“Alive,” Alan said. “Alive but in need of more healing than James can give at this time or in this place. We must get them away from this fortress… Your sword… Daniel … your sword is bloody.”

“We were discovered by a squad returning from patrol,” Michael said, “We were hidden, but one of them turned aside to piss and stepped into the pirogue. We had no choice, then, but to fight.”

“You were right,” Daniel said. “The man who stepped into our boat would have killed Michael if my sword had not found his belly first. He turned his head and looked into my eyes as he died. I don’t know how I found the strength to continue to fight.”

“You found it, though, and I would have died twice had you not protected me,” Michael said, hugging his friend. “I killed three with arrows as they ran to attack us, and didn’t have to look into their eyes. But I saw death reflected in Daniel’s eyes—”

“Is this boy…is he the baron’s son?” Thom interrupted.

Daniel approached until he could see the boy’s face. “Yes! Yes! It is Ceti! Where did you find him?”

“He was…tell you what, we’ll tell you later. Let’s get these three to Amite,” Alan said.

*****

Daniel and Michael’s parents were waiting when the pirogue pulled up to the dock. They were as concerned for the injured as they were happy to see their own sons return safely. The three unconscious boys were carried to the nearest home, where James was able to draw magic from the clean field that permeated the village. First Kenneth, restoring vital energy, and boy magic, too, as soon as possible. He nearly killed himself! Then the boy. His vital force is also low. What was going on in there? Last, Patrick. Nasty cut. Must have gotten that when he fell. Now, why is he still unconscious? There’s nothing wrong that I can see! Oh, there… James looked at a spot of Darkness at the base of the Elf’s brain. A magical block on the nerves! Thank the Light his autonomic system continued to function! A bolt of pure white magic blasted the block away and Patrick’s eyes snapped open.

“Thank you, James. That was a most insidious spell…he cast it early in the fight, but it took quite a while to take effect. Interesting. I don’t know if the delay was deliberate…”

Alan, who had crowded into the room, knelt beside Patrick. “I’m so glad you’re okay, I’d even listen to you analyze that spell!” he said, clasping his friend’s hand.

“James, how did you manage to attack the mage while you, yourself, were under attack?” Patrick asked. “I’d never have killed him without your help.”

James described the talisman, where he had found it, its glow in the presence of the Troll Mage, and his actions. “I didn’t attack him,” he said. “At best, I distracted him.”

Patrick thought for a moment. “The Trolls who attacked you and Kenneth; they showed uncommon intelligence and cunning?”

“Um, I really don’t think so,” James replied. “I’m not an expert…but everything I’ve heard says they’re always aggressive.”

“This band—they were quite a distance from here, yet they were linked to the Troll Mage through this talisman,” Patrick said. “Suggesting…”

“That they had been here,” James said, “and that there may be more such bands…Oh, as usual, I’ve jumped to conclusions.”

“Not at all,” Patrick said. “Your intuition often works faster than my logic and—as far as I can tell—it’s as often right.”

“Ceti’s awake,” Daniel called from the adjacent room. Because his was a familiar face, Daniel had been tasked to stay by the boy’s bed until he woke naturally from the sleep into which he’d slipped after James’ healing.

“Oh, I’m sorry, my lord. Please forgive me—” Daniel stammered as he realized the familiar way in which he’d addressed the baron’s son.

“Oh, no, Daniel,” the boy said, “I’ve wanted you to call me Ceti for ever so long. Where are we?” his voice rose in pitch as he realized that while Daniel’s face was familiar, the rest of his surroundings weren’t.

At Daniel’s call, Alan and James had hurried in, followed by Patrick.

James turned to Patrick, who gestured. “Your patient, healer.”

James addressed the boy. “You are in the town of Amite, on the edge of a great swamp, two days west of Agium. Your caravan from Arcadia was raided and you were captured. You were rescued by Daniel and Michael, Patrick and Alan,” gesturing to the tweens, “and Thom, who is in the other room, and Kenneth, who is not yet awake. Your father and mother are anxious to have you home, and we will leave for Agium soon. I am a healer, and would like to examine you, now.”

“But I don’t remember anything after I went to sleep last night!” the boy said. “We were on the road just south of Cloos.”

“For that, you should be grateful. Please, let me examine you,” James said gently, putting his hand on the boy’s forehead.

“We can send a messenger. Traveling with spare horses, he can reach Agium perhaps by noon, certainly before sunset…if that would help,” offered Daniel’s father.

“Thank you,” Patrick replied. “In Agium are father and a mother who fear for their son. I will write a note, if you would deliver it to the baron…?”

*****

Excellency: Your son is alive and well. None of us was seriously injured; the injured are recovering. We will leave Amite in two days and hope to reach Agium two days after that. The Dark one is dead; his forces are destroyed.

Patrick

*****

“There is one other thing we must ask, and that is that you tell no one our names or description. It is important that we not be known,” Patrick asked of Daniel’s father, who agreed.

“I will tell those who saw you, and they will not have seen you,” the man promised.

The nearly constant breeze from the south, which normally kept the miasma of the swamp away from Amite, was still as the companions prepared to depart. A heavy fog lay over the land. “This will not last more than an hour,” Daniel’s father promised. He and Michael’s father, and their families, but no one else, had come to the edge of the town to see the companions off. Ceti insisted on riding with Daniel, although Alan offered his services and those of Dasher, the larger horse.

The party walked their horses for the first ten miles or so, until the fog burned off as predicted. Alan, in the lead, urged Dasher to a trot, and the others followed his lead. At noon, James examined Ceti, channeling a bit of magic to reinforce the earlier healing. The boy was tired, but James judged him still fit to travel.

About an hour before dusk, Michael spurred his horse and rode up alongside Alan. “There’s a copse with a spring about 10 miles ahead. It’s a little shy of the half-way mark to Agium, but it’s by far the best place to camp for the night.” Alan nodded.

Kenneth helped Thom and Michael with the horses, while James and Daniel made Ceti comfortable. After discussing security, Alan and Patrick agreed that there would be no fire, but Patrick boiled a pot of water from the spring to make tea to accompany the sandwiches of cheese and meat that Michael’s mother had prepared for them.

*****

Several days had passed since they had reached Agium before Patrick found time and privacy to write to Cadfael. There was no way to disguise the subject, so this letter required a magical seal.

To Cadfael, from Patrick in Agium,

All my companions are well. Although Kenneth and I suffered some loss of vitality during an attack on a fortress in a swamp west of Agium, we are recovering quickly.

The horse breeder determined from the pattern of attacks that the most likely location of the raiders was the swamp; two tweens, one of whom we met at the inn, and one of whom is in the baron’s service, were able to lead us to a fortress in the swamp which was, indeed, the base of an Evil mage. He was killed; knowing he was about to die, he released a spell that killed those he had enchanted. Unless there were others who were not at the fortress at the time, all his followers are dead.

At the baron’s request, we will remain in Agium for some time. He has asked us to revisit the fortress for a more thorough examination than was possible during our first visit.

*****

“These letters arrived for you. Royal post. All are still sealed,” Johan said, handing them to Patrick.

One letter was for James, and one for Patrick. Patrick’s letter was written in what he’d come to know as “merchant’s code,” circumlocutions designed to appear innocuous, but containing hidden meanings.

W from C,

The map of possible trade routes and estimated profits created by the horse trader has provoked considerable interest. Please continue to monitor other possible, related routes.

“Well,” Alan said. “Looks as if that doesn’t apply, any more…if he’s talking about Stoltz’s notion that the attacks came from the swamp.”

The horse trader should be encouraged to recruit apprentices, especially from among his family—blood being thicker than water, and where great sums of money are involved, the binding of blood can be a critical factor.

“Hmmm,” Patrick said to Alan, who was reading over his shoulder. “Stoltz will be asked to start his own network of agents…I should have thought of that, myself.”

I have received the reports of customers and their needs, which you sent from Bear…

“Bear…that’s Nut Grove,” Patrick said. “Mail is moving faster than I thought it would.”

…Your report was most useful.

“Well, I guess he knows about the malaria.”

“Wait, there’s more!”

The separate report you sent to W has found its way to me, as well. Your companion’s analysis of the nature of the beast, so to speak, was correct. Nothing like this has been seen before…an entirely new possibility and one that does not bode well for our business. It appears that the situation was created by competitors to their advantage, and not ours.

“James was right,” Kenneth said, “the Plasmodium is a mutation, and not a natural one, either. But…how did he know? Do you suppose he knows Master William, as well?”

“I’m no longer surprised at who he knows,” Patrick said.

*****

The second trip to the fortress was considerably more pleasant than the first one. It was, again, billed as a hunting trip. This time, the target was to be alligators in the swamp. No one was surprised when both Michael and Daniel accompanied the party. Ceti begged his father to forbid Daniel, but the baron would not. “Daniel has duties to perform. You know that you must not talk of what has happened?”

“Of course, father,” the boy said. “Although I do not understand it, and I do not understand why…”

“I will tell you when they return,” the baron said. “Your silence is their safety.”

*****

The chests in the mage's quarters yielded a considerable pile of valuables, both metal and jewels, but what caught Patrick’s attention was a book. It lay on a table that was covered with alchemic equipment. “Too bad we can’t take some of this glassware with us,” Patrick said. “It’s probably as valuable as all those jewels.”

“Is that safe?” James exclaimed as Patrick reached for the book.

“I believe so,” Patrick said. “Oddly enough, there appears to be no spell on it. Perhaps he thought himself safe, here.”

*****

The companions had returned to Agium. Daniel delivered the jewels and coins to the baron. Michael delivered two alligators—dead, of course—to a butcher who promised not only to have the meat delivered to the inn, but also to ensure that the hides were properly prepared by a currier.

Patrick had kept the mage’s book of magic, knowing he would have to give it to Cadfael at some point. While he could, he studied it. “Thom, would you bring your quarterstaff over here, please? And Kenneth, can you come here, as well?” Patrick asked.

“What have you found?” James asked.

“There’s a spell in the Troll’s grimoire that deals with making a truly magical sword. It provides a way to snip off a strand of magic…a line of power…and freeze it and place it inside a sword…or, I think in this case, inside a quarterstaff. No, Thom, don’t hand it to me…it’s you that makes the magic work. Please hold it in both hands at First Guard position. Yes, thank you. Now, Kenneth, look very, very hard. Do you see anything?”

Kenneth focused. “If I knew what frozen magic looked like…wait. Thom, would you swing the quarterstaff back and forth…turn to face the door…okay. Good.”

Kenneth opened his eyes. “I saw…and I think you and James could see as well, that when Thom swung the quarterstaff it did affect the lines of magic. It was like…well, the strings of a lute vibrating as they are strummed.”

“Can you do the spell?” Alan asked. “Can you make a magic sword?”

Patrick shrugged. “My first master might be able to make the tools to make the tools to perform the spell. And he might not. It’s incredibly difficult, and involves operations so deep inside the magical field that—well, one might get lost, and disappear from this world.”

That night, James sought out Patrick. “I’m afraid,” James said. “I’m afraid for Kenneth, and my family, and my companions. Most of all, I’m afraid for the Light. How can a Troll possibly become so powerful? How can a Troll know quantum level spells? That’s what you were talking about, wasn’t it? The frozen magic spell?”

“Oh, James,” Patrick whispered as he held his friend tightly. “Do not be afraid. That grimoire was not created by the Troll, and I suspect that he understood only the most basic of the spells it contained.”

*****

“Have you determined why all the brigands died when the mage died?” Alan asked the next morning.

Patrick explained that the Troll had used magic to enslave the brigands, “…essentially turning boy-magic—or its equivalent in the Trolls and Lizoids—from something neutral into something Evil, and then feeding off it, using it as a force to weave even darker spells…if subverting the Light in that way isn’t dark enough.” Patrick said.

“Did he drain their magic? Is that why they died?” Kenneth asked.

“No, he killed them. When he knew he was going to lose, he released a burst of energy. I thought it was an attack on James and me, but there was no effect on us…I remember the pattern, though, and seeing it here…in his notes…now I know what it did,” Patrick paused.

“James, Kenneth, this may be the most awful spells ever created. It allows someone to plant the seeds of death in a person—in many people—and to release a simple pattern of energy that will then activate the seeds and kill them. See, here…” He lifted the book.

James spoke slowly and deliberately, “Please…I don’t want to see it, and I don’t want to know anything more about it. I cannot conceive of a Servant of the Light using such a spell. Kenneth, on your oath to the Light and to me…on your oath you are not to look at those notes.”

“But James,” the boy said softly, “I don’t need to see the notes, I saw the spell. I saw it in those dead men, and in Ceti, and I shall never be able to forget it.”

“The author of the grimoire felt the same way,” Patrick said.

James and Kenneth both perked up. “You know who it was?”

“The first few pages had been carefully excised, as if to conceal the writer and owner. However, he left clues. The most poignant clue was at this particular spell. Let me read it to you…oh, don’t worry…let me read you what he wrote.”

The next spell is one of the most awful I’ve ever seen. It came from a book captured by our forces during a foray into Eblis. Naturally, they turned the book over to the College. There was little of use, except this spell, and even it is not of use to anyone who follows the Light. I record it only so that we may recognize it when we see it, and so that someday I might find some way of countering it. —Rudy born Rudbeck (although only my master calls me that, and then only when he’s disappointed in me) of Barrone.

*****

“My lord,” Daniel began, “May I be excused?”

Kenneth had removed the Troll Mage’s dark spell from Ceti, but the boy had been weakened by it. Under the care of James and Kenneth, in consultation with Baldwin, Ceti had remained in bed for more than a tenday. Ceti had insisted that Daniel remain with him during the day. It was nearly compline, and Daniel hoped to get some sleep, himself.

“Daniel, at Amite, when I woke up, you called me ‘Ceti.’ I remember that. And I remember I told you how much I’d hoped you’d call me Ceti, someday. Have you forgotten?”

“No, my lord, but you were ill…confused…delirious…” Daniel stuttered.

“Well, I’m not ill or confused or delirious, now,” Ceti said. “Will you call me Ceti, and will you share boy magic with me?”

“My lord, I cannot. I am a squire; oath-bound to your father…I don’t think…”

“Then we shall just have to ask my father,” the boy said, pulling the bell rope beside his bed. “Please ask my father to visit me,” Ceti instructed the page who responded.

“But…but…” Daniel sputtered.

It was only moments before the baron entered. Daniel stood rigidly against the wall, not looking at either Ceti or his father.

“How do you feel, Ceti,” the baron asked.

“I feel fine. It’s Baldwin who should be resting. He frets too much, and mother listens to him when she should be listening to James and Kenneth. They say I’m well.

“Father, I have asked Daniel to call me Ceti and to share with me, and he said he couldn’t because he was your squire and you were his lord.”

“Hmmm,” the baron mused. “That’s quite a dilemma, isn’t it?” He glanced at Daniel whose face was brighter than the candle at Ceti’s bedside.

“Daniel,” the baron continued, “I received this morning a letter from Prince Auric. Your name will be on the next Honors List…as a Knight of the Realm. Your other friends will be honored, as well…but you are to say nothing about this until the list is released! You have been squire in this court for three decades. Of all my sons’ companions, you are the one of whom I am most proud. You do not need my permission to share with my son, nor to call him by his given name. You do, however, have my blessing.”

The baron smiled as he departed.

Daniel knelt at Ceti’s bedside and took the boy’s hand in his. “Yes, Ceti. I will share with you.”

*****

At the first hour of the day, the baron’s audience chamber was deserted save for the baron, Baldwin and Johan, and a man named Obert who was the Merchants’ Guildmaster.

Obert was fuming. “That squire of yours and his friends removed a boatload of gold and gems and silver from that fortress, and it belongs to us!”

“Obert, you try my patience! In the first place, they removed what they could carry in order to protect it. In the second place, they brought everything to the palace, where it was inventoried and stored securely. In the third place—and you know the law as well as I do—they are entitled to a minimum 10% finders’ fee. They can be awarded more under extenuating circumstances—and I’d be hard pressed to think of more extenuating circumstances. If you shout at me again, I will add that to the extenuating circumstances.

“I will announce the tally and the division at the general audience this morning. You shall return, then. And you shall accept this with grace or face my serious displeasure.”

Obert left, fuming, but chastened.

Across the city, Alan woke to a pounding on the door. “Michael,” he said in surprise upon opening the door. “What hour is it?”

“It’s not yet prime, but the baron has sent a messenger. You five…and I…are to report to the Court. Immediately and in secret!”

Daniel was waiting at the postern gate when the companions and Michael arrived. “The baron wants to see us all, right away.” He ushered them down back hallways and into the audience chamber where the baron sat. Baldwin and Johan were the only others there.

The baron smiled at the companions. “Hello, boys, I’m glad to see some friendly faces. The caravan with the rest of the material recovered from the fortress arrived three days ago. It’s been inventoried and valued, and I’ve been arguing with the Merchants Guildmaster since midnight. What has been recovered…certainly all stolen from caravans… amounts to 15,770 guineas. Your share…which I will assess at 15%...amounts to 2,365 guineas 20 shillings, sixpence.

The baron ignored the boys’ gasps, and continued, “This will be announced at the public audience this morning. Michael and Daniel will be there; their five companions will not, of course. The only people outside this room who know of your involvement are the people of Amite, and they can and will keep the secret. And Ceti, of course, but he, too, understands the need for secrecy.

The baron continued. “The Honors list is still secret, but I have the privilege of seeing it early, and the permission of the prince to reveal certain information. I know that the companions will be leaving Agium soon, so I want to tell you what I know. I’m very happy to say that Michael will be named Companion of the Keys, and Daniel will be named Knight of the Realm. Patrick, Alan, and James also will be named Knights of the Realm. Kenneth and Thom, as boys, you cannot be knighted; however, you will be ennobled as squires in your own right, and not merely as companions to knights. For reasons known to the companions, and which you, Michael and Daniel, must never discuss, the companions’ appointments will not appear on the public list, but will be kept secret until such time as it is safe to announce them. My congratulations to you all. And, again, thank you for saving my son.

“Boys, will you join me for breakfast?”

Breakfast was a family affair. The baroness, a daughter, and seven sons including Ceti, hosted the meal. The companions could not help but notice the attention that Daniel and Ceti paid to one another.

*****

A boy in the inn’s livery came to the companions table while they were taking breakfast. “A messenger at the door asks for Master Patrick,” he said. “Shall I admit him?”

“Yes, please,” answered Patrick.

The messenger was a tween in a Royal Army tabard. He appeared to be exhausted, but he looked closely at Patrick before handing him a sealed package. “You look tired,” will you join us for breakfast?” Alan asked.

“Thank you kindly, but I have other messages to deliver,” the boy said.

Patrick examined the package and then broke the seal. Inside were letters to James from Alten, to Patrick from Cadfael, to Alan from his father, and to Kenneth from his father. Seeing Thom’s face, Alan said, “Come, sit with me, Thom; let’s see what’s here.”

To Alan from his father,

My son, I have been told in confidence of your most recent adventure. I am very proud of the way you have chosen to use your life, and of your choice of companions (although I’m sure that Patrick still thinks that I disapprove of him—I regret our estrangement).

I understand that the boy, Thom, acquitted himself admirably, and that you would not have succeeded had Thom not been beside you. In truth, I was concerned that you had stepped in a hole over your head when I heard that you and Patrick had befriended the boy. I see now that you knew exactly what you were doing. I would be pleased for you to bring him and the rest of your companions to visit the next time you are in Arcadia. Please assure them all that they would be welcome.

Patrick read the carefully phrased letter from Cadfael:

My young friends,

I have read with interest and appreciation your reports, seven of which have reached me of late, and am especially appreciative of the report from Breeden, which was shown to me by his correspondent. Your services have been most exemplary.

Your proposals to follow up on contacts made (and even more important, where not made) are most appropriate.

Kenneth was excited to receive a letter from his father. The man was not a good correspondent. His letters were few, and terse.

My Son,

Our Liege Prince summoned me to visit him on very short notice. I was pleasantly surprised to learn the reason. You have made me proud. As much as I would like to tell your older brothers, I understand the reason for secrecy.

Our proximity to Elven lands has long protected us from the sort of Evil that you face. Nevertheless, our prince has tasked me to be vigilant to signs that Darkness may be seeking a toehold in Arcadia. Most specifically, he as restored the title—and the concomitant responsibilities—of Baron of the Marches of the Sea, to our House. I have begged him to name you the heir to that title, and he has consented. You will be the second youngest ever to hold that title. Your qualifications merit the title; ratification, of course, will have to await the removal of the cloak of secrecy that surrounds you, but the record exists in Arcadia.

I understand that your mission will not likely bring you to Carter, and I am sad that I will not see you soon. My blessing on you.

*****

“A squire, already, Thom. Someday you’ll be known as Sir Thomas of Fortmain…just like the ancestor who first owned that quarterstaff,” Alan said. “How does it feel?”

“It feels good,” Thom said dreamily, “But you feel better, and you’re here, and I want you so very much.”