was a brief pause, during which he had far too much time to wonder if they’d have time to get away if someone threw spears down at them. Or boiling oil. The gates creaked open ....
And a storm of shouting castle folk came rushing out to meet them—For one panicky moment, the bardling fumbled for his sword, sure he and his party were under attack. But before he could do anything to defend himself, Kevin made out some individual shouts amid the sea of noise:
“They’re here!”
“They made it!”
“Oh, you brave, brave heroes!”
Kevin glanced at the rest of his party, seeing on their faces the same shocked disbelief he felt. “Uh, yes,” the bardling began warily. “We’re here, all right. But why are you—”
The rest of his question was drowned out in a storm of cheers. Eager hands reached out to grab his mule’s bridle and lead it through the entryway into the crowded outer bailey.
“If it will please you to dismount, my lords, lady?”
No, it doesn’t please me, Kevin thought. This is all just too weird.
But he couldn’t think of any convincing argument that would let him turn around and ride out of here. Exchanging uneasy looks with the rest of the party, he dismounted and followed their guides.
They were led into the shadowy depths of the count’s Great Hall, the sound of their footsteps muffled by the carpeting rushes. The vast, torchlit room was fairly stuffed with courtiers and servants alike. At the sight of Kevin and (he others, they all burst into a frenzy of murmuring—
At the far end of the Hall sat Count Volmar himself, splendid in robes of somber blue, there on his red- canopied chair of state on its dais. And beside him was;
“Charina!” the bardling gasped.
“Kevin!” She came scurrying down the steps to Kevin’s side in a wild swirling of blue velvet and long golden hair, and caught the startled bardling in a passionate hug. “Oh, you brave, brave hero! You saved me!”
“Ch-Charina,” Kevin stammered, too shocked and embarrassed for anything else, overwhelmed by the soft sweetness other. At last he managed to disengage himself, gasping out, “I’m delighted to see you’re free, and I—I wish I—we—could take credit for it, but we didn’t—”
“Don’t be so modest, young man.” Count Volmar stepped down from his chair to shake Kevin’s hand. “The elven traitors who’d captured my niece released her as soon as they learned just who I had sent out to track them down.” The count smiled heartily. “If it hadn’t been for your reputation, all of you, and the diligent search I know you undertook, my poor dear Charina would still be a captive.”
If it hadn’t been for their reputation? What reputation? Unless Lydia and the elves had been holding out on him ... ?
But they looked every bit as baffled as he.
Before any of them could say or do anything, though, the count’s servants swarmed down on the party.
“Hey, wait!” Kevin cried.
The last thing he wanted was to be separated from the others. But he didn’t have much of a choice. Still trying to protest, Kevin was almost dragged away by the flock of eager servitors.
To Kevin’s momentary surprise, the servants deposited him not back in the chilly, barren squires’ hall, but in a luxurious suite of rooms whose expensive the floors and tapestry-hung walls marked them as the count’s prized guest quarters.
“But I don’t—I’m not—You can’t—Hey! Isn’t anybody listening to me?”
The servants, who were busy dragging out a hip bath and hanging the room round with heavy linen draperies “so the hero will not be bothered by drafts,” stopped to stare at him.
“My lord?” one asked, glancing at Kevin’s well-worn clothing and mule-scented self. “Do you not wish to bathe before meeting with Count Volmar again?”
“Uh, yes, of course I do! But—”
Too late. They were already off in a new flurry of excitement. Almost before Kevin could catch his breath, he
