Merdigen stood in silence for a while, gazing at nothing. When he sprang back to life, he startled Dale. “I must arrange for the care of my cat!”
“What?”
“I am going on a journey. It could be perilous, it could be fruitless, but I think it’s necessary and I can’t put it off any longer.”
“You’re what?”
Merdigen strode across the chamber and between a pair of columns into the center of the tower. Dale rose to her feet and followed. She’d never get over the transition from stone chamber to open grasslands. Above, heavy clouds that reminded her of winter scudded across the sky.
Merdigen rubbed his hands together. “It is time the tower guardians all woke up. We will need a council. We need solutions! I shall first contact the towers eastward.”
Dale watched in amazement as he withdrew a dove from his sleeve and whispered to it. He tossed it into the air, and with a fluttering of white wings, it circled them once, twice, and then darted through the east archway, flying madly till it became nothing but a speck in the sky and was at last beyond her sight. He repeated this five more times.
“One of them should be willing to watch the cat,” Merdigen said.
“Cat?” was all Dale could say.
But now Merdigen was pulling other items out of the air. First a warm cloak he threw over his shoulders, then a pack that bulged with provisions…illusionary provisions? What could he possibly need? The last object he snaked out of his sleeve was impossibly long—a walking staff.
“The way to the west is broken,” he said. “There are three towers that have been cut off from us by the breach. I cannot send a message the conventional way.”
“Conventional…the doves?”
“I will seek bridges,” he continued, “and hope I find the right ones. I should have dared this when I was first aware of the breach, when the Deyer first awakened me, but I hoped he could repair it. Now I only hope it’s not too late and the towers have not been sundered from us.” He adjusted the straps of his pack on his shoulders. “Check in now and then to see if I’ve returned, or if any of my colleagues have arrived. If a long time as you reckon it has elapsed, well, we can assume I’ve crossed a bad bridge.”
“Bad…bridge?” Not that Dale expected an explanation.
“Don’t despair,” he said, “I shall be very prudent. No unnecessary risks. Farewell, Rider Littlepage.” And he set off.
“You’re leaving?”
He halted and turned back to her, his cloak billowing around him, and she thought she saw in him not the peevish illusion to whom she’d grown accustomed, but a vestige of the great mage of old with unthinkable powers at his disposal. “My dear child, results sometimes command immediate action, no matter the danger that may lay ahead. To not leave could condemn us to even greater peril.”
Dale watched as he strode through the west archway. She kept watching as he trudged through hip-high grasses, becoming smaller and smaller until he vanished against the horizon.
A RIDE IN THE COUNTRY
“I’m sorry, my lady, but His Majesty’s instructions were clear.” The Weapon put his hand on the stall door to block her.
Estora drew herself up. “You must let me go. I command it.”
She could see the discomfort in his face no matter how he tried to conceal it. “I’m sorry, my lady, but we’re responsible for the safety of your person, and His Majesty has not deemed it safe to allow you off castle grounds.”
Only years of training to retain a calm facade prevented Estora from screaming her frustration. She hated feeling so trapped, so…so kept. All she wanted was a ride in the country and a peek at the Eletian encampment. This morning she had dressed in her black riding habit and made for the stables, determined to take a ride no matter what obstacles arose. The ubiquitous Weapon Fastion had dogged her every step and now barred her way. Her hunter was so close, almost within reach.
“What danger is there if you’re with me?”
“I’m sorry, my lady.”
If she heard him say he was sorry one more time, she really would scream. And short of her being able to pick up the man and move him aside, she was not going to gain access to Falan no matter how determined she was. She flexed her riding crop in her hands. If only she were a Green Rider! Then she could ride away from this place and her keepers, but such was not her fate in life.
She turned on her heel and left the stable, the sound of Fastion’s boots close behind. She strode out onto castle grounds. There was only one person who could release her from this prison and she intended to see him now. She did not care what he was in the middle of.
She was so intent upon her goal, the skirts of her habit flaring out behind her, that she did not see Amberhill till she was almost upon him. He appeared to be strolling in a casual manner, hands clasped behind his back, gazing at the castle heights, or maybe at the leaves twirling down from trees. He was the epitome of an idle noble with no responsibilities to fill his day.
He grinned when he saw her and swept into a low bow. “My lady, you are in a hurry today.”
Yes, she thought, and you best not hinder me. “I’m on my way to see the king.”
“Oh,” he said. “By appearances you look rather ready for a ride.”
She sighed. “That is what I wish to discuss with him. This one—” and she pointed her crop at Fastion “—won’t let me take a simple ride in the country.”