A piece of down blew lazily in front of Aruendiel, tracing a slow spiral around his horse’s head. Aruendiel followed it with his eyes. “Yes,” he said under his breath. “Go.”
The wind carried the feather away, along with his words and the dust raised by the horses’ hooves.
“What did you say?” Luklren asked.
“Just a precaution,” Aruendiel said. “It’s rare for our friend to come out this far, isn’t it? I’ll sharpen the protective spell tonight.”
“It was because of that girl. Good that we sent her back.” Luklren paused, as though waiting for Aruendiel to contradict him, but the other man said nothing, so he went on: “Well, let’s get going. I want to stop at the sheepfold and the Longcrick watchtower before it gets dark. And I’m famished. Chicken for dinner tonight. We killed a rooster this morning for you.”
Aruendiel gathered up his reins with a dry laugh. “The last time I came, it was a stringy old ram—now a winter chicken. You don’t believe in spoiling your guests, Lukl. Or maybe you just don’t think my magic merits much in the way of hospitality.”
“It’s been a hard winter. We were fattening up a yearling calf for your visit, but the Faitoren stole it.”
“Ah! Too bad,” said Aruendiel, spurring his horse. “Well, I will have to exercise greater vigilance against them in the future.”
Walking back across the fields beside Vulpin, Nora tried hard to keep her eyes fixed ahead. She wanted to be polite, the way she’d avoid staring at someone with any kind of deformity, but Vulpin’s transformation had been so unexpected, so impossible, that she felt an almost physical compulsion to turn and look at him again. Finally she did shift her eyes toward him, intending to look just for a second, but Vulpin immediately met her gaze. He nodded and opened his big, tusked mouth, which was the saddest part of all, as she realized that he was trying to smile.
“Poor Vulpin,” she said. “Are you in pain? Did he hurt you?”
He shook his head without saying anything, and they kept walking.
It was colder than ever. Nora’s teeth chattered, and the tips of her fingers were blue by the time they reached the stream that she had crossed so unthinkingly a little while before. Now, she discovered, it was almost frozen over, ice glazing the stones that stood out of the water. Vulpin had to help her across.
Then she was standing on the other side, and it was summer again—blue sky overhead and tall, green grass waving in a warm breeze. Moscelle and the rest of the hunting party were waiting, along with a dozen horsemen, men she knew from Ilissa’s parties, now wearing helmets and a close-fitting, metallic garb that reminded her of the feeted pajamas that small children wear. She realized after a second that it was chain mail.
Moscelle and the others crowded around Nora, asking whether she was all right, exclaiming how naughty she had been to wander away, how frightened they had been, how cold her hands were, how lucky she had been to escape from the soldiers and the evil wizard. Nora was more concerned about Vulpin. It occurred to her that no one could recognize him. “I’m fine, really I’m fine,” she said at last, for the fifth time. “But look what they did to poor Vulpin!”
The others, though, seemed reluctant to look at him directly; Nora could hardly blame them. “What happened to you, Vulpin?” Moscelle asked finally, an edge in her voice.
Vulpin shrugged his shoulders. “Lord Aruendiel’s little joke,” he said thickly. He switched to the other language, the one that they used when they thought Nora wasn’t listening. It sounded harsher and wilder in his changed mouth.
“I see,” Moscelle said finally, with a glance at Nora. “How unpleasant. Well, you’d better ride ahead and ask Ilissa for help. Tell her we’ll be there shortly.”
One of the other men led Vulpin’s horse over to him. He was too short to climb unassisted into the saddle, so the others had to help him up and shorten his stirrups for him. He dug his small heels into the side of the horse and disappeared at a gallop.
“I’m sorry to cause all this trouble, Moscelle,” Nora said. “I only crossed the stream to pick some flowers, and then the soldiers came.”
“Oh, darling, we’re just so thankful you’re safe. None of us realized that we were so close to the border, or we would never have let you out of our sight. Was it terrible for you, sweet?”
“Oh, those men were horrible,” Nora said passionately. “They kept looking at me in this awful way. I was afraid they wanted to—well, you know—but they didn’t. They were afraid of Ilissa and Raclin, I think.”
“They should be afraid. She’s very, very angry,” Moscelle said, with a little shudder. “How many were there?”
“Three soldiers and two men on horses. A man with one eye, and a crippled man they said was a wizard. I didn’t believe it, but he did something to me and made me confused, and he did that terrible thing to Vulpin.”
“What did he do to you?” Moscelle said quickly.
“I don’t know, exactly,” said Nora, “but I couldn’t tell how many legs a horse has.”
“Is it a riddle?”
“No, I just didn’t know.”
“Oh, darling, you know how many legs a horse has, don’t you?”
“Four,” Nora said carefully. When Moscelle said nothing, she went on with more confidence: “I did know it at first, and then I looked at my dress, and it was as though part of my brain had shut off.”
“What an awful feeling. Are you all right now?”
“I think so.” In fact, Nora reflected, her head felt a bit clearer than it had for a long time. At least, the slippery words that had become so expert at eluding her now seemed easier to grasp. Standing up to the wizard and the soldiers had forced her to gather her wits, it seemed. She felt some pride for not breaking down in front of them. “Moscelle, who were those men? Why did they kidnap me?”
Moscelle had plenty to say on the subject of the one-eyed man and the crippled wizard. The one-eyed man lived nearby and called himself a lord, Moscelle said, but he was only lord over a crumbling pile of stones and some mangy sheep and cows. He was always trying to pick fights with Ilissa—it was very annoying. The other man was a cruel and dangerous wizard—the Black Wizard, Moscelle called him. He’d had been to hell and learned his magic from the devils there, people said.
“You were lucky to get away. He hates us, and there are terrible stories about him.” Moscelle lowered her voice. “He murdered his wife. She was a beautiful young girl, much younger than he was. He stabbed her in a fit of rage. But don’t worry. Ilissa is a match for him.”
“Why do these people hate us?” Nora asked, frowning, a little surprised at this talk of wizards.
Moscelle sketched a vague gesture. “There was a war once, and now we have a truce, but we still have to be on our guard. Someday we’ll defeat them for good. Ilissa can explain it better.”
“Why didn’t anyone tell me this before?”
“Oh, darling, no one wants you to worry about such things. And it’s really not that important. You just have to be a little careful so that you don’t go too close to the border by accident. I hope Ilissa’s not too furious with us. Leptospeer was supposed to keep track of where we were, but all he could think about was lunch, the pig.”
“Well, it was me who wandered off.”
“It’s sweet of you to say that, darling. Do you think you could remember to mention that to Ilissa? I know that she could never be angry with you.”
Ilissa was waiting for them on the terrace, looking collected and lovely in a full-skirted white dress embroidered with pearls and gold thread. Nora had seen pictures of Queen Elizabeth I in something similar, although on Ilissa the dress looked less like something you would wear to face off with the Spanish Armada and more like something to go dancing in. Smiling, Ilissa held out her hands to Nora and kissed her on both cheeks.
Only then did Nora notice the change in the rose garden below the terrace. All of the bushes were
