Robert Hughes - The Wizard in Waiting

“Are you sure everything’s all right?” Carlad shouted again, and Rosha opened one of the doors and stuck his head into the hall. His sleepy guard looked rather perplexed. Rosha gave him a friendly smile. “No p-p-problem,” he said cheerfully, and he waved. Then he slammed the door shut and whirled in time to see Bronwynn’s foot heading for his forehead. He ducked, and it thumped noisily on the wall behind him. He caught her on the way down. She clawed for his face as he carried her once more to the bed and dropped her there.

The pounding on his door grew more animated, and Rosha rushed to swing it open. “What do you want?” he demanded angrily.

“Is there someone in there with you?” Carlad squinted suspiciously, craning his head to peer around Rosha’s large bulk.

“If there is, whose fault would it b-b-be?” Rosha responded.

“Ah…” The guard didn’t know quite what to answer, and Rosha rushed on:

“There’s n-no one in here b-but me, as you well kn-know! Now leave m-me alone, or I’ll tell your sergeant about your acting career!”

He slammed the door and turned to face Bronwynn once again. He’d heard her scuttle across the floor behind him and knew she was working to free the knife from the wall, Once again he grabbed her, this time less gently, and hurled her at the bed with a grunt. She bounced over it onto the floor. By the time she could recover, he was standing over her, her knife in his hand and a savage frown darkening his features.

“Well, go ahead,” she flared. “Stab me with it.”

“What’s the matter with you?” he demanded.

“You might as well. I’m sure the Queen will reward you richly though of course, since you have her, what other reward could you want?”

“Would you keep your voice down ”

“Why should I? You’ll give me to her anyway—”

“Shut up!” he spat, slamming his free hand over her mouth. He tossed the dagger aside and grabbed the back of her head with his other hand and held her quiet while she did everything in her power to make noise. She beat at his head, kicked his legs, rolled from side to side, and tried to I bite through his hand. Through it all, Rosha held onto her, absorbing the blows without blinking, staring fiercely into her face.

She couldn’t keep it up forever. Finally she relaxed, and he began in a heated whisper: “I get the impression you think I want to be here. I don’t! You think I want that witch? All I can think about is you, yet you try to stick a knife in my b-b-b in me.” He sighed in exasperation. “Why do you think I’ve got guards at my door? It’s because I’m a prisoner here.”

All he could see of her face were her eyes. They suddenly watered over, and he decided to let her speak.

“You’re moving into her room tomorrow,” she spat out, and he clamped his hand back in place and looked at the door.

“Not if Pelmen and I can help it,” he muttered. Her eyes widened. He lifted his hand.

“Pelmen is here?” she asked. For the first time, she whispered.

“He is. Disguised as a jester, and using the name Fallomar.” Rosha frowned, as he remembered his friend’s absence. “That is, I hope he’s here. He went below the castle last night, and hasn’t yet come up.”

Bronwynn’s face clouded with concern. “But there’s a battle below the castle going on right now. That’s how I got in.”

“A battle? Who’s battling whom?”

“Isn’t Joss down there ”

“No,” Rosha blurted. “Joss is out chasing Admon Faye all over the countryside.”

“But Admon Faye’s in the caverns ” Bronwynn stopped, and stared at his long face. Rosha suddenly looked very tired. And once again, someone was pounding on the door.

Rosha sighed. Then he stood up. “Hide,” he told her, and Bronwynn quickly got within the wall again as Rosha stalked to the doorway. “Who is it?” he shouted.

“Fallomar the fool, my Lord, come to entertain you and teach you fancy words if the time be appropriate?”

Rosha swung the door open, his face beaming. “Under the circumstances, I c-can’t think of a time that would be b-better. Carlad, let this fool past.” Pelmen swept into the room, and Rosha winked at his guard and patted his cheek. “Remember… disturb us again and I’ll tell him about the white face too…”

As soon as Rosha closed the door behind him, Bronwynn burst from her hiding place and raced to embrace the clown. Pelmen hugged her to him, and both wept but quietly, each one keeping a cautious eye on the door.

Bronwynn cried out of her months of loneliness and frustration, while Pelmen wept in thanksgiving for her safety. Rosha stood to one side, his arms folded across his chest, main taining a reserved smile, but wishing someone would include him in all the hugging. Soon Bronwynn turned and reached out to him, and Pelmen passed the girl to her young warrior. In a few moments she had completely reversed the poor opinions of these two she’d formed over the months of separation. The clandestine nature of Pelmen’s arrival had totally convinced her of Rosha’s sincerity, and if that hadn’t, the bear lock he wrapped her in surely would have. In more than one way, Bronwynn finally felt she’d come home.

“You don’t seem surprised to see me,” she whispered to Pelmen, wiping her cheeks with the back of a hand.

“I knew you were on your way. My only worry was in getting here before you split this one’s skull.” He jerked his head at Rosha.

“How did you know about that?” she asked, suddenly suspicious.

“The House told me.”

Bronwynn stared at him. “What?” she finally asked.

“This ancestral home of yours is alive, Bronwynn. And it has ways of communicating its thoughts. It watched you climb up through its walls, and gave me a running description of your attack on Rosha as I raced up here to stop you.” Pelmen glanced at Rosha. “It’s fortunate your weeks of inactivity haven’t dulled your reflexes.”

“Reflexes had nothing to do with it. It was my father’s mailed shirt.”

Rosha turned a hard look onto his still-puzzled Princess. “Why did you try to cut me open?”

“They told me you’d gotten cozy with Ligne,” Bronwynn snapped. Then she advanced a step on him, suddenly grim. “Have you?”

“Not by choice,” Pelmen interrupted, squeezing between them to prevent a renewal of hostilities. “Tell me who is they?”

Bronwynn shrugged. “Admon Faye, Flayh, Jagd. All of them.”

“You’ve been with Admon Faye?” Rosha demanded. It Was his turn to be suspicious.

“Not by her choice,” Pelmen said evenly, turning to stare Rosha down.

“Admon Faye helped her escape from this place—”

“How do you know?”

“Serphimera told me.”

“Serphimera!” Bronwynn blurted out. “Is that witch here?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you knew where Bronwynn was?” Rosha asked stonily.

“Would you two please quiet down?” Pelmen ordered. When they were silent, he turned first to answer Bronwynn, then to Rosha. “Yes, she’s here, but she’s not a witch and I didn’t tell you because I didn’t think it would help matters any.”

“But if I’d known she was safe, I would have killed Joss days ago.”

“You call being with Admon Faye safety?” Pelmen frowned. “Besides, that’s what I expected you’d do. You might have succeeded in killing him, but neither you nor Bronwynn would have been any better off.”

“It doesn’t matter now, anyway,” Bronwynn whispered. “I’ll take you through the walls and you can kill him while I slaughter Ligne.” Both of the men turned to stare at her. “I think it’s a good plan,” she added defensively.

“Maybe for Admon Faye,” said Pelmen. “Is that what he intended?”