Christopher Stasheff

‘Uh… warlock trick,’ said Rod, falling back on the easiest, though most distasteful, excuse. He caught the back of Tuan’s neck and jerked the youth’s head down into the huddle with himself and Big Tom. ‘Now, how do we knock out that sentry?’

‘There is but one way,’ murmured Tuan. ‘Wake him and fight him.’

‘And let him give the alarm?’ Tom stared, horrified. ‘Nay, nay!

Come catpaw behind him, and give him a blow o’ the head!’

‘That,’ said Tuan grimly, ‘tacks honor!’

Tom spat.

‘Bit Tom’s plan is okay,’ said Rod, ‘except what happens if he wakes while we’re sneaking up? And there’s a very good chance of it; that lecherous beggar proved it for us!’

Tom shrugged. ‘Then a quick rush, and a hope. If we die, then we die.’

‘And the Queen dies with us,’ Rod growled. ‘No good.’

Tom pulled out his short sword and balanced it on a finger. ‘I’ll strike him in the throat with this blade at full fifty paces.~

Tuan stared, appalled. ‘A man of your own men, sirrah!’

‘One for the good of the cause.’ Tom shrugged. ‘What of it?’

Tuan’s eyes froze. ‘That is worse than a stab in the back! We must needs give him lief to defend himself.’

‘Oh, aye!’ Tom snorted. ‘Lief to defend himself, and to raise the whole House with his cries! Lief to…’

Rod clapped a hand over each mouth, glad that he hadn’t brought three men with him. He hissed at Big Tom, ‘Be patient, will you?

He’s new to commando work!’

Tom sobered.

Tuan straightened, eyes icy.

Rod put his mouth next to Tom’s ear and whispered, ‘Look, if you hadn’t known he was an aristocrat, how would you have judged him?’

‘A brave man, and a strong fighter,’ Tom admitted, ‘though foolish and young, with too many ideals.’

Rod shook a finger at him. ‘Prejudice, Big Tom! Discrimination! I thought you believed in equality!’

‘Well said,’ Tom growled reluctantly; ‘I’ll bear him. But one more of his pious mouthings and…’

‘If we get this job done fast, he won’t have a chance to. Now, I’ve got an idea.’

‘Then why didst thou ask us?’ growled Tom.

”Cause I didn’t get my idea till you two started haggling. What Christopher Stasheff

we need is a compromise solution, right? Tuan won’t stand for a knife in the back, or a knife while the guy’s sleeping, or for killing a loyal retainer who might make good cannon fodder tomorrow. Right?’

‘Aye,’ Tuan agreed.

‘And Big Tom won’t stand for him giving the alarm - and neither will I, for that matter: we’re all good fighters, but just the three of us against the whole Houseful of cutthroats is straining the bonds of fantasy just a little bit far. So, Tom! If that sentry should come running around this corner all of a sudden, will you clobber him lightly?’

‘Aye!’ Tom grinned.

‘Lightly, I said. Does that satisfy honor, Tuan?’

‘Aye, since he faces us.’

‘Good! Now, if we could just get him to chase a mouse around this corner, we’d be all set.’

‘Aye,’ Tuan agreed, ‘but where’s the mouse that would so nicely oblige us?’

‘The master could make one,’ Tom growled.

‘Make one?’ Rod stared. ‘Sure if I had a machine shop and a…

‘Nay, nay!’ Tuan grinned. ‘I know not those spells; but thou hast the witchmoss, and thou’rt a warlock! What more dost thou need?’

‘Huh?’ Rod swallowed. ‘Witches make things out of that stuff?’

‘Aye, aye! Dost thou not know? Living things, small things -like mice!’

The missing piece in the puzzle of Gramarye clicked into place in Rod’s mind. ‘Uh, say, how do they work that trick?’

‘Why, they have but to look at a lump of the stuff, and it becomes what they wish it!’

Rod nodded slowly. ‘Very neat, ve-ry neat. The only hitch in the plan is, that’s not my style of witchcraft.’

Tuan sagged. ‘Thou craftest not witchmoss? Then how are we to . .

.? Still, ‘tis most strange that thou shouldst not know of it.’

‘Not so,’ Tom dissented. ‘A very poor briefing bureau . . ‘Oh, shut up!’ Rod growled. ‘There are other ways to get a mouse.’ He cupped his hands around his mouth and called softly, ‘Gwen! Oh, Gwe-en!’

A spider dropped down on a thread right in front of his nose.

Rod jumped. ‘Ye cats! Don’t do that, girl!’

‘Vermin!’ Tom hissed, and swung his hand back for a swat.