night?'
Haltingly at first, then gaining confidence as he was granted a patient hearing by both the highborn folk, Mark recounted his experiences at the fair as he remembered them. He began with his arrival in the wagon with Ben and Barbara, and went on to the moment when the dragon-courier of Duke Fraktin had soared away, the sword Mark had stabbed it with still wedged into its scales.
'As the dragon went up, it looked — changed. It looked unreal to me. Like it was one different creature after another. And then 1 lost sight of it, and people were fighting all around me. As you must know, sir, ma'm. And then 1 think that something must have struck me down. But just before that — I was feeling strange.'
The enchantress came toward Mark, and stood in front of him looking at him very closely. At first he was frightened, but something soon drained away the fear. She said to him: 'You were not wounded, were you?'
'No ma'm, I wasn't wounded. But… I just had the feeling that something was… happening to me.'
'I don't doubt you did.' Dame Yoldi finished her long look at Mark, and sighed. She looked around at each of the other people in the room. 'I was watching from a castle window, while most of the rest of you were out in the fairgrounds. There was a magic in that stolen sword, that made the creature carrying it seem to change. We each of us saw it as something different when it rose up through the air — but each of us saw it as something harmless, or as a being that ought to be defended. Just as everyone saw you, Mark, as someone to be obeyed, protected, served — as long as you were carrying that sword:'
Mark nodded solemnly. 'Once I had it, the man who had been chasing me called me 'Your Grace' — what became of him?'
Sir Andrew grunted. 'Hugh of Semur was among last night's dead.' The knight glanced momentarily toward Ben, who was continuing to stand in his corner, still wrapped in his blanket and trying to look small. 'And my own men fought well, once we understood that we were required to fight. Some of those who were pretending to be my marshals got away from us, I fear. But some are dead, and one or two are in my dungeon now. I fear they'll be a bad influence on my one honest criminal.' To Mark's further bewilderment, the knight here shook his head, apparently over some private worry.
Dame Yoldi asked: 'Mark, who gave you that other sword, the one that's now flown away? You've just told us that the man who did so appeared to be your father, as long as he had the sword. But what did he look like afterward, when he'd passed Sightblinder over to you?'
'When I had the sword, I saw him only as a masked clown. Lady, I do not understand these things of magic.'
There was a pause before the enchantress answered. 'Nor do I, all too often.' As she turned quickly away from Mark, he thought he caught a glimpse of some new inner excitement in her eye. Again she took the lord of the castle by the arm. 'Andrew, send out men to search for the carnival clowns. They're scattered now, I'm sure, after last night, along with all the merchants and the visitors. But if we could only find him…' For the moment Dame Yoldi appeared to be lost in some wild private speculation.
Sir Andrew stared at her, then went to the door where he barked out orders. In a moment he was back. 'They must be scattered like chaff, as you say. But we can try'
'Good.' The enchantress was contemplating Mark again, now with something enough like awe to make him feel uncomfortable. 'I do not know much yet, lad, about these magic swords. But I am learning. I do know the names of some of them, at least. It was Sightblinder that you stabbed the dragon with, last night. It is also known as the Sword of Stealth. He who carries it is disguised from all potential enemies and perhaps from his friends as well. And the man who gave it to you… did he say anything?'
'Yes.' Mark blushed for his forgetfulness. 'He said that I was to give it to Sir Andrew. If I could.'
'Did he, hah?'
'And I meant to, sir. But then they told me that the other sword was being stolen. And — and I had to do something.'
'And so you did something. Yes, yes, I like having folk about me who sometimes feel that something must be done. I do wish, though, that we still had Sightblinder here. I suppose it's in the Duke's hands now, and I don't like to think what he might do with it.' The knight looked at Dame Yoldi, and his worried frown was deeper than before. 'My own flyers have all come back now, Yoldi. They couldn't catch his courier in the air, or even see it. Luck is with Fraktin at present.'
'In the form of Coinspinner, yes,' Dame Yoldi said. She nodded tiredly, and spoke to Mark again. 'Is it possible, boy, that for one moment last night you had your hands on two swords at the same time?'
'Yes ma'm, it's more than possible. It happened that way. And that was when the — the world started to go strange.'
'I thought as much. And now the Duke, with his luck augmented by Coinspinner, is going to have the Sword of Stealth in hand as well. No one else in the world has ever owned two of those swords since they were made… Mark, I have learned that the smith who helped Vulcan forge them was your father.'
Mark could feel himself standing, a small figure, alone, beside the table that held the sword called Townsaver. 'I knew that he helped make this one. But, until I left home, I never heard that Vulcan had forged other swords at the same time. My father never liked to speak of it at all. And now he's dead. I saw him die, the same day my brother died, and Duke Fraktin's cousin in our village.
'Last night when I thought it was my father…' Mark covered his eyes briefly with his hands. 'But I know it was only some piece of magic.'
Two sentries, armed and alert, had arrived at the room's door, and now one of them entered to whisper something to Sir Andrew.
'Bring her in,' the knight ordered grimly.
Before whoever it was could be brought in, Dame Yoldi moved to the table near Mark's side. With a small piece of black cloth that might have been a handkerchief she draped the hilt of the sword that lay on the table, so that the little white design of decoration could not be seen. Then she stepped away from the table and nodded to the guards.
A moment later, a dark lady appeared in the doorway, of elegant appearance and malevolent expression. Her air of arrogance made the soldiers at her sides appear to be a guard of honor.
She glared at each person in the room in turn. Her gaze lingered longest on Mark, and he had the sensation that something invisible, but palpable and evil, had passed near him. Then, with her lifted chin turned to Sir Andrew, the lady said: 'I demand to be released.'
'Most likely you soon will be.' The knight's voice had turned cold, much changed from what it had been. 'My investigation of what your agents did at the fairgrounds last night is almost complete. If you were not here on business of diplomacy, woman, you'd likely be down in my dungeon now.'
The lady chose not to hear this. She tossed back dark hair imperiously. 'And where is Hugh of Semur?'
'That dog is dead. Diplomat or not, he succeeded in earning himself a broken neck last night.'
The dark lady demonstrated shock. 'Dead! Then his killers must be placed in my custody, that I may take them to face the Duke's justice. As I must take him.' She pointed a long fingernail at Mark. 'And that sword on the table. It belongs to His Grace too.'
'I think, m'lady, that you'll take precious little out of my territory but yourself.'
The lady started to pretend surprise at this refusal, then shrugged lightly and gave it up. 'It will go ill for you, Sir Andrew, if you refuse the Duke his property, and his just vengeance. Who will guarantee the security of your frontiers if he does not?'
'Oh, ah? Speaking of property, there's the matter of the damage done to some of mine last night, and to some of my people, too. That fine coach that brought you here, my fine Lady Marat, should fetch something on the market. Enough, perhaps, to pay some of the bills that you've run up in damages. I'll see if I can find a farm wagon somewhere, and a loadbeast or two, to furnish you and your servants transportation home. A somewhat bumpy ride, perhaps, but…'
Now indeed she flared. 'Beast yourself! How dare you treat me, the Duke's emissary, in such a way? How dare you?'
'…but, as I say, it would be a long way for you to walk.'
The lady now had hard struggle to restrain her tongue, but she managed it at last. After delivering one last glare at each person in the room, she turned between her guards with a fine swirl of glittery fabrics, and with her guards was gone.
