subject of what women could and couldn't do, Sir Robert was mired the deepest. For years, he had kept these sentiments in check, mainly because the women he dealt with directly were all di Caelas and all completely impossible to govern or even advise. But now, his duties as lord of the castle set aside, Sir Robert was saying what he damned well pleased, and I knew firsthand that he damned well pleased to offend just about everyone.
What Sir Robert considered 'woman's work' would be just about anything the old coot found distasteful.
Dannelle looked long at me. I remained expressionless.
She continued.
'He says to me, 'Niece'-he forgets my name when he's angry-'Niece, it seems to me that you're in some need of respecting a proper tour of duty about this castle, what with two dozen servants to fluff up your circumstances every time something ill suits you.'
'Then he says, 'Hear the thunder outside?' and of course I think he's off to the Age of Dreams again, and I smile and nod because I'm about to ask him once more about Carnifex, because I'm sure that if Robert's all abstracted, he's likely to think I'm someone else and let me ride the horse. But then I hear the thunder at a great distance and know that my uncle's hearing is perhaps the one faculty he hasn't lost. It's just then, like it's on cue or something, that the rain begins to fall and everybody hears it against the stones of the castle and the old man starts singing that 'rainy days are washdays, rainy days are washdays,' and the next thing I know, I'm down in the laundry with a handful of sheets, crouched over a washboard and tub.'
It was all I could do to keep from laughing aloud, and I wished devoutly that I could have seen the dazzling Dannelle di Caela scrubbing the castle linens. But I governed myself, looked alarmed, even pained, and I encouraged her to continue.
'Well, it gets worse from here, Galen. Sir Robert fastened himself on the idea that I should do laundry as long as it rained, and as you know, it has been raining as though it will never stop. Two days into this, and I had lost almost all my interest in Carnifex. I was simply praying to any listening god that Sir Robert would not start taking in laundry from Palanthas or Kalaman just so he could keep me at the basin forever.
'I thought of all kinds of ways to deliver myself-things dark and violent, terrible things to wish upon an uncle. I must confess that my temper got the better of me when my servants escorted me to and from that soap-smelling prison at all hours of the day.'
'Surely not!' I whispered, barely squelching my laughter, not trusting full voice.
Dannelle nodded gravely, taking me entirely seriously.
'I must confess that some of the linkboys did not fare well in my company.'
I nodded in turn and cleared my throat several times.
'I thought dire things through long hours, Galen. But in the end, it seemed most fitting simply to run away. At any rate, you know the rest of the story, or at least it doesn't take a visionary to figure it out: how I went on the sly to the stable, intent on joining up with you and Ramiro, on leaving the castle grounds until Sir Robert-'
'Forgot about laundry,' Ramiro finished, admiration in his voice. 'Perhaps even forgot that you were missing.'
I shook my head. Dannelle would have to be a fool to follow anyone into the prospects we faced. But it made no difference: With her gossip and veiled knowledge, and with my history of misdemeanor, the girl had me, and had me without options.
So I resolved to make the best of it. After all, the night would come soon enough. And after all, there was room beneath my trail blanket for two…
Possibilities, impossible and unthinkable under the watchful eyes of Robert and Bayard, now loomed inviting in the cloudy night.
We were there until late the next morning, despite my coaxings and urgings. Ramiro lolled over a dozen eggs and three loaves of bread until the sun was high, when he finally seemed to remember that we were not off on some May Day outing but fully intent to go somewhere and do something.
It was only then that our huddled little party took to the road. Dannelle, Ramiro, and I rode at the head of the column, with the squires forming a bedraggled line behind us. The ride was tedious and silent, for Ramiro and I were equally hostile and equally quiet. The only sounds were the movement and murmurings of the horses and an occasional grunt or uncomfortable sigh from Alfric.
Ahead of us spread the highlands like a wide, grass-covered bridge. Almost a mile across, they formed the only dry thoroughfare between the drenched Solamnic plains and the foothills of the Vingaard Mountains. Even so, the water was standing an inch deep on the ground beneath us.
The grass blades swam in a dark pool.
'People are assuming an awful lot on this expedition, Dannelle,' I exclaimed when we stopped late in the afternoon. She, Ramiro, and I were still mounted, our horses nose to nose as the three of us waited for the squires to build a fire. As we spoke, a silent, efficient Oliver and a grumbling Alfric gathered whatever nearly dry wood they could find in this drenched terrain. Soon, on a damp spot under a thick-leafed vallenwood, with a horse blanket spread over the low-hanging branches as a sort of makeshift canopy, a smoky, halfhearted fire burned sullenly, while the rest of us smoldered on the rainy road.
'I mean, first of all it was you, stowing away in full sight of everyone,' I nagged. 'Then it was Ramiro, intent on perpetual dinner last night, and no doubt thinking of a ruse to keep us here until late tomorrow morning. I suppose the squires will tell me soon that they have appointed me to take care of our armor, and the horses will claim they assumed that I had volunteered to carry each of them. My authority is eroding rapidly around here, and-'
'Keeping the shimmer on your authority is not high on the list of my duties, Sir Galen,' Ramiro interrupted, flashing a big, gap-toothed smile at Lady Dannelle. 'Indeed, you might know from the Measure that 'it is the duty of subordinates to anticipate the wishes of their commanders,' and I assumed only that your authority would be… somewhat sensible about our travel and provision.'
'Wait just one minute, Ramiro!' I snapped coldly as both of us bristled and preened before the female of the species. But at that moment, there was a noise from the woods, shrilling through the dusky air like the cry of something haunted and forlorn. Ramiro's head snapped up, and he reached for his sword.
The troll emerged from the forest.
Chapter VIII
I had never seen such a creature as this, and I hope devoutly never to see more of them.
From a distance, it looked like a moving stone, dappled gray and green and old-moss brown. It emerged from the landscape behind us as though the ground itself had swelled and erupted something fierce and unnatural. The troll was a good nine feet tall at the shoulders and had the strides you would expect from such a monstrosity. Rapidly it closed the distance between us, loping over the wet highland ground in a low crouch, at a speed most frightening because it was not at all human. Halfway to us, it dropped onto all fours to move even faster.
For an instant, things resembled those terrible moments in dreams when you cannot move as quickly as your attacker. Only alert little Oliver, the only one of us who was not preoccupied with Dannelle, saved us from being waylaid and disemboweled and eaten on the spot. Before Ramiro had his hand on the pommel, Oliver had mounted and reined his black horse toward the troll, his sword gleaming blue-white in his hand, a warning cry on his lips.
For a moment, the troll slowed down, almost paused. The sight of a boy on horseback, armed and challenging, was enough to be distracting, though the thing was probably too dim-witted to be frightened. The monster gaped, its large, fanged jaws dropping open stupidly like faulty drawbridges. From where we sat on horse, only a dozen yards away, I could see its black, beady eyes widen.
That was all the time we needed. At once, Ramiro broke from the column, guiding his stallion in a wide circle around the creature. It took his rather heavily burdened horse a few moments to close on the troll, but once Ramiro had waded into combat, there was little prospect that anyone would ask him to wade out. A quick sword stroke downward, followed by half the big man's weight, crashed into the troll's right arm and sliced on through
