Even the brigand in front of her didn’t realize that she was free.
Sandys took a small step backward while facing ahead, men another. Roder was fascinated. He shack a piece of wheatstraw in his teeth and leaned against the door frame, chewing. In one swift movement the outlaw dropped off the platform, turned and dashed to the castle wall some yards away. Her timing was excellent. Amazingly, no one had noticed.
Roder watched intently as she tore the sleeves from her shift and used one to make a scarf for her head. She squatted close to the wall, tore a doublespan of cloth from the hem of her shift, and used it as a sash for her waist. She used smut from the wall stones to dirty her face. In moments the notorious outlaw had taken on the appearance of an unwashed peasant woman. There were several score like her in the courtyard that very moment.
Sandys sidled around the edge of the crowd. Her disguise was perfect, and the men-at-arms paid no attention to her. She worked her way closer to the gate. Commandant Burnond was observing the trials from a balcony on the second floor of the keep, and Sandys passed directly below him. His impassive gaze betrayed no surprise, no alarm, only arrogance.
Roder spat out his straw and shouldered his pitchfork. This was his chance.
Sandys walked right out the open gate, against the stream of local folk filing in to see the brigands meet justice. The guards ignored her. A dozen paces from the castle, she began to walk faster. Down the hill were open fields of grass, and beyond that, the forest. Once out of sight of the gate, Sandys struck out across the meadow. Distant shouts from the courtyard crowd could still be heard. Her escape was still unnoticed, but the vengeful roar put haste in Sandys’s step.
“Hold!”
Roder, pitchfork in hand, appeared on her right. She gauged the distance between him and the edge of the woods. Too far; he could easily catch her if she tried to run. She angled a bit to improve her lead, then said, “Well, stable boy. How did you know where I was?”
“I watched you,” he said. “I saw everything you did. You were wonderfully clever.”
“How did you get here ahead of me?”
“Postern gate. I ran.”
She inched a few more steps through the knee-high grass. “You think you can stop me?”
“If I brought you back now, it’d show Lord Burnond I’m no fool.”
She palmed the sweat from her eyes. “Is that what you want? The approval of the Knights? You’ll never get it, not even by recapturing me. You’ll never be anything but a stablehand to them.”
He slowly lowered the pitchfork. “I know.”
“You do?”
“I thought about what you and Lord Burnond said the day you were captured. He’s known me all my life, and he thinks I’m a worthless shoveler of manure. You knew me for two days and thought I was a clever spy. That’s why I’m going to let you go.”
She folded her arms. “Roder, you are a fool. How do you know I didn’t say those things just to flatter you?”
He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter.”
Frowning, Sandys strode over to him and eyed him up and down. Without warning, she took his face in her hands and kissed him fiercely.
He gaped. “What was that for?”
“You’ll figure it out.”
She lifted her skirt and started running for the woods. “I’ll see you again, Roder. Count on it!”
He leaned on the pitchfork and watched Sandys race through the still grass. Burnond would be apoplectic over her escape, no doubt. Roder would enjoy that. He touched his lips, where the taste of the infamous bandit “Lord” Sandys lingered. He enjoyed that, too.
See her again? Why not?
Sandys reached the thick green line of trees and plunged in. She never looked back.
Much Ado About Magic
Kevin James Kage
“Hello!” shouted the kender.
Laudus started. His hand flew to the side, tipping an inkwell and soaking a manuscript with rich black ink. Rising from his seat, the old man thundered across the study and thrust his head out the window.
Fifty feet below him, the little man stood at the gates of the tower, peering about and shouting “Hello!” every few moments.
“Be quiet!” the archmage said.
“Hello!” the kender said as he spotted the man. He waved his arms in greeting. “I say! Could you open the door, please? It seems to be stuck!”
“Absolutely not! Leave at once!”
“I can’t leave! I have some very important information to relate!”
“Absolutely out of the question! Go away!”
“But it’s very important!”
Mustering his patience, the archmage said, “Well, what is it?”
The kender looked taken aback. “I couldn’t tell you! You might be a spy!”
The old man scowled and threw the now-empty inkwell. It struck the ground to the right of the kender, bounced a foot more, and landed with a dusty thud. The kender looked astonished beyond measure.
“Thank you!” he said cheerfully. “But all I really need is the door opened!”
Laudus looked about for something else to throw, but he found nothing disposable. He opted for the next-best solution.
“Cedwick!”
Moments later, a lanky young man stumbled into the room. Though merely an apprentice, he stood a full head taller than Laudus and possessed a good deal more hair. “Almost done, Master,” he said. “Your fine robes have been packed as you requested, and I’ve taken the liberty of packing-”
“Enough, enough,” Laudus said. “I’ll finish the packing. There’s something else I want you to do. There’s a kender outside.”
“Akender?Why?”
“How should I know? Go deal with him!”
“Maybe he wants to give you information for the Conclave meeting.”
“Foolish boy! The Conclave doesn’t inform outsiders of its meetings. Least of all, kender.” He waved a bony finger at his apprentice. “Don’t you fill the kender’s head with any ideas. If you so much as mention the Tower of High Sorcery, we’ll never be rid of him!”
“Of course, sir,” Cedwick bowed. “What if he has some important information, though?”
“No kender in the history of Krynn has ever had important information.” After a moment, Laudus added, “Unless, of course, he stole it.”
From beyond the window, the kender began to sing a bawdy drinking song in an off-key tenor voice.
“Go get rid of him!”
“Yes, Master!”
Quite suddenly the kender changed keys, becoming considerably more shrill and, amazingly enough, more off-key. The old man felt a headache coming on.
“I’ve come to speak to Master Laudus about the Conclave meeting,” the kender said brightly.
A little voice inside Cedwick’s head told him he had heard incorrectly. The kender couldn’t have said, “I’ve come to speak to Master Laudus about the Conclave meeting.”
