Christopher Stasheff - The Warlock is Missing

Magnus nodded. "Such an one could rend this land asunder—for even an he did win to the throne, ever would barons rise up against him; they could never respect his right, sin that he hath not royal blood!"

"Nor would any man honor him," said Cordelia, "for each commoner would think, 'He is lowborn, and hath won to the throne; wherefore should not I?' And one after another would rise up to challenge him."

"The country would ever be rent in warfare," Alain groaned. "Never would there be peace!"

"Yet that is just as this Shire-Reeve's masters do wish," little Gregory said.

Alain stared. "What! How is this? Doth this miscreant have a master?"

The Gallowglasses exchanged glances. "We cannot know that…" Magnus hedged.

"Yet thou dost suspect it! Nay, tell me! To withhold thy good conjecture would be treason!"

"Only an we guessed truly," Magnus sighed. "Yet we have cause to think this Shire-Reeve was set up by enemies of Papa, who do seek to plunge this whole land of Gramarye into chaos."

Alain frowned. "Father hath never spoken of such."

"Papa may not have spoken to him of it," Cordelia explained. "He is loathe to speak until he is certain."

I would not quite say that is accurate , Fess's voice said in the Gallowglasses' minds.

But Alain couldn't hear him, of course. He shook his head. "He should never withhold such suspicion—yet I can comprehend it; Father would tell Mother, and she is forever fretting about troubles that may come, but do not."

"Yet the trouble hath come indeed," Geoffrey said, "and we do know of our own that Papa hath enemies of another sort—ones who do wish to steal thy parents' thrones, and rule Gramarye more harshly than ever they have."

Alain stared. "Assuredly thy father must have spoken to Their Majesties of this—he must needs be certain of it!"

"Mayhap he hath," Magnus said quickly, "but thy father hath not yet seen fit to tell thee. We all are yet young."

"Mayhap," Alain agreed; but he glowered at the thought.

"Yet here's a quandary," Cordelia interjected. "Did we not,'t'other night, hear one of those men say that the Shire-Reeve was one of their vassals?"

The children stared at one another.

Then Gregory nodded. "Aye, they did say so."

"In point of fact," Fess reminded them, "they did not say it; Cordelia read it in their leader's mind. Her exact words were, I believe, 'Their thoughts leapt to the Shire-Reeve; he hath been their man for many years, and they have told him exactly what they wished him to do when the chance came.'"

The children didn't quibble; they knew Fess always remembered everything exactly as it happened—Papa had used him to give evidence in family quarrels often enough.

Alain frowned. "Yet how can that be? Didst thou not but now tell me the Shire-Reeve did have support from men who wished no rule at all?"

"We did," Magnus verified, "and so we did believe. How now, my sibs? How can the man fight for both sides?"

"Why, by fighting for neither!" Geoffrey cried in excite-ment. "He lets each believe he's their man—but in truth, he fights only for himself!"

"Aye!" Alain caught his enthusiasm. "He doth play a dou-ble game, doth play them off 'gainst one another!"

Geoffrey nodded, eyes glowing. "They believe they use him—but he truly seeks to use them , taking support from each, yet plotting in private to cut out both, root and branch, as soon as he doth have power!"

"The very thing!" Cordelia concurred. "He could quite eas-ily deceive those who seek chaos, for he doth seem to be only one more ambitious fool, seeking to gain land by battle—and his ambitions are so great that he could equally deceive those who seek to rule all the land, and with an iron fist!"

"Yet in truth," Magnus agreed, "he doth seek to gain the throne, not mere rule, and to beget kings—and this by deceit and craft, as much as by force of arms."

Alain was trembling. "Of such stuff are kings made, I fear —though very evil kings."

"This one shall not be a king," Geoffrey avowed. "Not of any sort."

Gregory chirped, "Have we found our Great Nasty?"

"We should take the left fork."

Magnus halted, and Cordelia's unicorn who had appeared just as Cordelia needed her, stopped, unwilling to come too close to one of the boys. Fess stepped up behind Magnus, who frowned down at the younger boy. "Wherefore, Alain?"

Alain scowled up at him, then shrugged. "It matters not. I am a prince, and I say it; therefore we should take the left."

"Yet it may not be the wisest thing," Gregory demurred.

"Hush, nutkin!" Alain said impatiently. "If a prince saith it, 'tis wise."

"Mayhap we should discover where each goes," Cordelia suggested.

"What need? I am a prince!"

Geoffrey Had had enough. "Directly and to make no ado, your Highness—thou dost not yet command, nor need we yet obey."

Alain rounded on him, furious. "Thou wilt head the Blood Royal!"

"Heed it, aye. Obey it, nay."

Alain drew back a fist, but Magnus caught it. "Be still, the pair of ye! Alain, when thou art grown, I will take thy commands, and gladly—but for now, I am eldest, and age is of greater import than rank."

"But I am a prince !"

"And I am the Puck!" boomed the resident elf. "The High Warlock and his wife have set me to govern their bairns in their absence, and I will—so an thou dost wish to accompany us, thou art welcome; but thou must needs mind thine elders!"

Alain scuffed at the ground with a toe.

"Even Robin will not bid us choose, when he knows not what lies at the end of each road," Cordelia said gently.

Alain looked up at her with gratitude, and for a moment, his face softened, almost to the point of idiocy.

Geoffrey saw, and smiled a cynical smile. "What! Wouldst thou heed a woman?"

Alain turned on him, fists clenching and face thunderous.

"So long as thou dost not heed my brother," Magnus murmured.

Alain looked up at him, startled, then smiled, his eyes glowing. "Thou hast ever the truth of the matter, Magnus!"

Geoffrey glared, but just then Summer and Fall popped up from the left-hand fork, shaking their heads. "There's naught down that road save a woodcutter's cot."

Puck queried. "How far didst thou pursue it?"

"To its end—mayhap a league."

Puck shrugged. "Let us hope Kelly hath found summat."

Leaves rustled, and a green top hat popped up with Kelly under it.

"Well come!" Puck cried. "What moves?"

"Naught but an army or three," Kelly said with nonchalance.

"At last!" Magnus sighed, but Puck demanded, "Whose?"

"The Shire-Reeve's." Kelly grinned. "At the least, I think it be he, for his arms have no crest, and his soldiers, no livery. Nay, it must needs be he, for his horses are great, rangy beasts, straight from the plow, not fit for a knight."

"What other armies are there?" Geoffrey asked.

"The King's, but 'tis on the far side of the hill, and be-tween them lies a field of wheat."

" 'Tis destined to become a field of battle," Geoffrey mut-tered.

"And at his back lies a river—yet there are two fords for the crossing of it, and five counts' armies beyond. None have more than a half-dozen knights and a few hundred men-at-arms—yet together, they're a force to be reckoned with."

"An they can fight in unity," Geoffrey added.

"'Tis even so." Puck turned to Alain. "Well enough—we have found the enemy. From this time forth, matters may become exceedingly dangerous—and we cannot risk the heir apparent. Thou wilt go home!" He transferred his glare to Kelly. "And thou shalt accompany the Prince, to ward him!"

"Nay!" cried Alain, and, "Niver, ye scoundrel! What! Would ye make a nanny of me?" howled Kelly.