Part 16 (2/2)

Sir Terent turned red-faced again. ”If there are more Bnen uprisings, there may be trouble all winter.

That's what we don't know yet.” ”Ah.” Gavril leaned forward, thrilled to be discussing strategy. For a moment he almost forgot his own plans. ”Have you sent scouts into the forest?” ”The captain's not yet given the order. He may be waiting till after Aelintide, but more than likely he'd rather get his information right here.” ”I don't understand.”

Sir Terent grinned and said, ”From our eld.”

Gavril frowned. ”What eld?”

”The young 'un what took us into battle,” said Sir Deloit in his thick uplander accent. Grizzled and old, with a puckered scar running through his left eye, he slammed his fist on the table with a grunt of admiration. ”Like a gift from Thod, he was, appearing on our road at just the right time. Led us true, he did, straight to 'em. And like a burr did he stick to our lord and master. Naught harmed him, though he be right in the thick of battle. A gift from Thod, he was, all right. It's him we want to ask about dwarf uprisings.” A terrible suspicion began to coil through Gavril's mind. There couldn't be two eldin in the vicinity. Not two young ones. Could there? Again, he had not been told this gossip. It did not matter to him that he'd been so busy organizing and carrying out the recovery of his stolen wine and mead that he'd paid no heed to anything else. Someone should have informed him. Leaning back in his chair, Gavril shot a dagger glance in Sir Los's direction. The protector's gaze s.h.i.+fted uneasily, and Gavril's anger boiled higher. Sir Los had known but had not told him. Unforgivable.

Sir Nynth, an ugly dark-haired man with keen eyes, edged closer. ”Tell us, your highness. How do we go about taming our eld? Getting him to come forth from hiding and trust us?”

Gavril blinked at him in startlement. ”Say you that the eld is inside the hold?”

”Aye,” Sir Terent said with a nod. Gavril clenched his hands upon the chair arms. ”What does he look like, this eld?”

”He's about your highness's height, but skinny. Black-haired. Young.”

Gavril drew in his breath sharply. ”I've seen this pagan before.” The knights exchanged delighted glances. ”Does your highness know him? Know his name?” Sir Terent asked eagerly.

”No.”

”Sir Bosquecel says he is called Dain,” Sir Alard contributed in his soft voice. ”That's not an eldin name,” another knight farther back protested. ”They're all called by names as long as your arm, names that tangle your tongue right up.” ”We're trying to get him to trust us and come out of hiding,” Sir Terent explained.

”Are you sure he hasn't left?” Gavril asked. ”Perhaps when the villagers departed yesterday-” ”Nay. I saw him slinking past the food cellars like a cat midday,” said the one-eyed old knight. ”I maybe got only one eye, but it sees sharp. He's still hanging about. We got to catch him, see?”

”Yes, of course you must,” Gavril said. ”It will not do to have a pagan running freely about the hold.”

”Aye, he ought to be brought in and given proper shelter,” Sir Terent said with a smile that showed where his front teeth had been knocked out in some past battle. ”And thanked rightly for what he did for us. Nocine the huntsman owes the boy his life.”

”Nocine?” Gavril echoed.

”Aye. Saved him with spellcraft.”

Disapproval sank through Gavril like a stone through water. He stared at Sir Terent with a stern face.

”Spellcraft is against Writ.”

”Aye, of course,” the knight agreed with a casualness that made Gavril determined to write down his name as soon as he returned to his chambers tonight. He was starting to compile lists of such names, ferreting out the unfaithful for Cardinal Noncire's information. Sir Terent leaned forward. ”But he is what he is. Can't help it, I figure. Anyway, we want to thank him. Make him our mascot and-” Gavril shot to his feet, causing Sir Terent to break off. ”Make him your what?” the prince shouted.

”Our mascot,” Sir Terent repeated.

”He brought us wondrous luck,” Sir Nynth said.

Other knights were nodding.

”Aye,” Sir Deloit said. ”Took us through forest so twisted we couldn't never found our way back out again. But he knew all the ways. Saw trails we didn't see. Sniffed his way through, most like. But he didn't get lost once in all the day. Quick-witted too, he is. If ever we go back into Nold, it's that boy I want guiding me.”

Other voices lifted in agreement. Listening to them, Gavril somehow managed to master his shock and outrage. Uplanders were notorious backsliders, always letting their faith falter in favor of the old ways. Many were lenient toward pagans, just as these knights were tonight. They saw no contradiction between that and their oaths of faithfulness to the Writ.

But beyond that, Gavril was thinking of the qualities the knights kept mentioning about this Dain. He remembered the eld he had hunted only a few days ago, the eld with black hair and eyes of pagan gray, the eld who had defied him and fought back with a fearlessness that now made Gavril wonder. Could this eld be put to his use? If Dain truly knew his way about the Dark Forest, then did he know how to find the Field of Skulls? And beyond that, did he perhaps know where to find the Chalice of Eternal Life?

Even if Gavril bribed these oafs into searching the forest for him, it was clear they knew not where to look. A corner of Gavril's heart warned him against the temptation of using pagans in his service. It was opening the gate to worse temptations. But he felt strong in his faith, and certain that he could withstand whatever might try to turn him from the truth of Writ. Was it sinfully wrong to use a pagan in his search for the missing Chalice?

Gavril envisioned putting Dain in a harness, a collar and chain on his throat like a leashed dog. He would ride through the Dark Forest with Dain trotting ahead of him, hunting the Chalice, leading the way to success. ”Your highness?” Sir Terent said, jolting Gavril from his thoughts. He blinked stupidly, trying to gather his wits and remember what had been said around him. ”Yes?”

”I asked what we should do to catch him,” Sir Terent said. ”I'm sorry if your highness is too tired. It's just-I thought since your highness has been schooled so much in the Writ and the faith, you might know more about the pagan ways than we do. You might know how to make him trust us.”

Gavril hesitated only a second, then he smiled. ”Of course. I would be most pleased to a.s.sist you.”

Sir Terent bowed, his ruddy face showing grat.i.tude. Sir Deloit banged his gnarled hand on the table.

”And I say that we ought to try tolling him out with food. Leave it about, easy like, and he'll come for it.

Bound to be hungry by now.”

”An excellent idea,” Gavril said.

”Then we'll do that,” Sir Terent said. He glanced at the other knights with a smile and nod.

”I must take my leave now,” Gavril told them. ”I will think on this matter and give you what help I can.

Perhaps I and the other fosters will try our hand at pursuing him.”

As he spoke, he glanced over his shoulder at Mierre, who gave him a quick smile. ”Chasing him is likely going to scare him worse,” the old knight started in, but someone put a hand on his shoulder to silence him.

Gavril frowned. He'd had enough advice from that quarter. ”Good night to you, sir knights,” he said with gracious courtesy. ”Good Aelintide as well.” They bowed, chorusing, ”Good Aelintide, your highness.”

”I will wish you luck, also, in tomorrow's games and melee.” Sir Terent's smile vanished, and again an uncomfortable silence fell over the room. ”There will be none.”

Gavril stared in fresh surprise. ”No contests?”

”Not while our lord lies so gravely ill.” ”I see.” Gavril felt his face growing hot again. He tried to hide his discomfiture by adjusting the heavy folds of his cloak. ”Well, then, let us be glad there is still to be a feast.”

He turned to go, and Sir Los hurried ahead of him to thrust open the door.

”Wait, your highness!” Sir Terent called after him.

Gavril turned back to see the knight coming with the keg.

”No,” Gavril said, lifting his hand. ”Keep my gift.”

”We cannot accept it,” Sir Terent said.

”You said you will not drink it until Lord Odfrey is well.” Gavril forced a smile to his lips, still desirous of addicting the company to this wondrous mead so that their allegiance would thereafter belong to him.

”Save it until that time, then drink it in celebration.”

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