Roger Taylor: The call of the sword

Aelang waited.

Urssain continued. ‘ "Lock the Lords up on my sig-nal," he said. So I did.’ He shrugged. ‘It was so sudden I didn’t even have anywhere to hold them. I’ve had to put them in some old servants’ quarters for the time being. Then when I got back to the King, he was muttering something about the wolf and his cubs, and he just handed me those and told me to bring them to you personally, straight away.’ He indicated the orders. ‘Personally, mark you, no messengers. I was going to ask him why, but… ’ He shifted uncomfortably and leaned forward. ‘I didn’t think it would serve anyone’s ends to get myself arrested for questioning his orders, however stupid. And that’s what would have happened.’ He lowered his voice. ‘To be honest, I think he’s raving. I was glad to be away.’

He sat back to watch the effect of his report.

Aelang’s face however, was impassive, and there was a long silence before he spoke, ‘What about the other Lords’ families?’ he asked eventually.

Urssain shook his head. ‘I don’t know,’ he replied. ‘He said nothing about them to me.’

Aelang nodded and idly fingered the papers lying on the desk. Urssain was his man. He had taken consider-able pains to have him placed in charge of the Palace Guards when the Garrison was suddenly moved to Vakloss at the King’s behest. He too was a devious and ambitious man, but he knew where his best interests lay. And his assessment of Rgoric was remarkably un-equivocal. Aelang wondered if its very simplicity might not indeed cut through all the convoluted possibilities and uncertainties that were vexing him.

The Geadrol suspended, troopers were transferred to Vakloss almost overnight, and then called the King’s High Guards, of all things. Lords arrested, and now this! Could it be some unexpected move by the King against Lord Dan-Tor? That would be contrary to everything he had ever learned about the King. Could it be Dan-Tor using the King to precipitate some crisis? That was possible. Everything had the feel of Dan-Tor. But too much was happening too quickly, and too crudely. No. It was all too fast, too soon. Dan-Tor would surely never have sanctioned such crude action against the Lords. Certainly he would never have sanctioned the use of this particular patrol for a simple arrest. Perhaps after all, this was some aberration on the King’s part. Perhaps Dan-Tor had misjudged the King when he went off on one of his jaunts and the King had slipped his leash and was running wild, implementing schemes long planned for a later time. It seemed to be increasingly probable.

Aelang let the papers fall slowly back onto the desk. And yet to disobey this, a direct and personal order from the King. There would be plenty of people happy to profit from his making such a mistake; plenty to take his place, one of them sitting opposite him now. And, for all his judgment of the matter, he could well find himself the recipient of the Lord Dan-Tor’s anger if he disobeyed a direct order from the King. He swore again softly. Urssain was right; there really was no alternative.

If this is some folly of the King’s, then I’ll be judged by the way in which I put this order into practice, he concluded. Besides, practicalities always made opportu-nities of their own.

‘Where is this Jaldaric?’ he asked brusquely.

Urssain looked at him awkwardly. ‘He’s in charge of the patrol that’s escorting the Lord Dan-Tor. According to the King they’re heading south through Orthlund on some mission or other.’

Aelang’s cruel face almost smiled at the increasing folly of it all. This was getting worse and worse. He had put the right man in Vakloss. The King must indeed be raving.

‘When’s he due back?’ he asked, knowing the an-swer.

Urssain gave it with a shrug. ‘You know the Lord Dan-Tor better than I do,’ he said.

Aelang stood up and moved over to a map hanging on the wall. He stared at it for some time in the pallid sunlight that was washing into the room.

‘So we have to move the patrol right across the country and down into Orthlund of all places. Keeping it out of sight all the way. Then we have to take it through Orthlund, still keeping it out of sight. Looking for the Lord Dan-Tor, who could be anywhere, but who doubtless will be moving quietly along the very roads where we won’t dare to travel.’ He looked significantly at Urssain, but the Captain neither spoke nor moved.

Keeping your head down still, Urs, Aelang thought. Well, I’ve got a better use for you now.

‘This is going to be… delicate, Urs,’ he said pen-sively. ‘You’ll have to come with me.’

Urssain’s eyes narrowed briefly as old instincts came into play. Rgoric’s order meant trouble for Aelang and he did not want to be too close if it happened. On the other hand, Aelang was also a consummate survivor. He cut through his own debate by reminding himself that there was no way in which he could reasonably oppose his Commander, so he contented himself with a token resistance.

‘Yes, Commander,’ he said. ‘But what about the Palace? There’s a lot happening there, the King being the way he is. And Vakloss. There’s already some serious rumblings from the people about the King having his own High Guard. That’s bothering them more than the Geadrol being suspended.’

Aelang turned his pale eyes onto the captain and bared his teeth in a grim smile. ‘Captain.’ He empha-sized the word to remind Urssain who had won him his promotion. ‘With all this… activity, going on, it’s in our best interests to find the Lord Dan-Tor as soon as possible, isn’t it?’ The comment summarized all their problems succinctly. ‘And I need someone by me that I can rely on to handle that patrol. We’ll send a rider with a sealed message to try to find the Lord Dan-Tor and persuade him to head back, while we obey this order and follow-as slowly as we dare-with the patrol.’

Under the unexpectedly powerful impact of Andawyr’s blow, Hawklan, sword in hand, found himself staggering backwards out of the pavilion for some distance. Even as he struggled to recover his balance, he felt the cold night air at once waking and quietening both his mind and his body.

In front of him the pavilion flickered and shone dementedly, no longer a thing of fascination or enchantment, but something unpleasant and unnatural, and now, seemingly increasingly uncontrolled. Looking around him he noticed that for all the glare of its many-changing lights, and the light it threw in the clearing, the pavilion cast no illumination on the surrounding buildings.

Screwing up his eyes, he peered into the entrance, now dazzlingly bright. In the haze, he could make out a confusion of movement. They were struggling figures. He stepped forward, anxious to aid his rescuers, but before he had taken two paces, there was a dull thud and a gasp and the little old man ran out into his arms, followed by Gavor, black and purposeful against the brightness.

Andawyr looked at Hawklan angrily.

‘What are you still here for, you blockhead?’ he shouted. ‘Get away, man, get away.’ Then seizing Hawklan’s arm he spun him round and began dragging him across the clearing, now garish and swirling under the hysterical lights.

Gavor made an unsteady landing on Hawklan’s shoulder. ‘Dear boy,’ he gasped. ‘What on earth’s happening? You’re just not safe to let off on your own. Oh. This is Andawyr. He found you. He… ’

Gavor did not finish his sentence. Before they reached the waiting darkness, the light around them took on a new quality. It steadied and became a cold green colour. Hawklan felt his progress slow, as if he were under water, or as if a thousand tiny strings had suddenly seized him. Turning, he saw that Andawyr also seemed to be having difficulty.