"I have not," the lad answered, "but the Shire-Reeve hath!"

The crowd fell silent, astonished.

It was quiet enough for Geoffrey to hear the words Magnus whispered in his ear: "We know now whence he cometh!"

Geoffrey nodded, and his eyes glittered.

"The Shire-Reeve hath fought in lordlings' armies!" the false Geoffrey cried.

"When young, he fought for the Queen against the rebels! Again he fought, chasing out the Beastmen from our isle! And anon he fought, when Tudor called, against the depredating bands of other nobles—and he hath grown sick at heart, from seeing all their wanton waste!"

"Yet how can he, a man of common birth, stand against a belted knight?" a man in the crowd called.

"Because his rank is royal!" the boy called back. "He is the King's reeve, for all the shire! And if he doth now bid the nobles cease their brawling, can any say him nay?"

The rumble agreed, gaining heart.

"Come follow me, and I shall lead thee to him!" cried the lad. "Come join the Shire-Reeve, and fight 'gainst those who do oppress thee!"

"This swells too greatly," muttered a baritone by Magnus's knee. "We must spoke his wheels." A second later, a voice from the middle of the mob called, "How dost thou know where thou mayest find him?" The men in that location looked around, startled, but the boy answered,

"We know that he doth quarter in the town ofBelmead . We've but to go, and attend his pleasure!"

"And will he welcome us?" called a voice from another part of the crowd, "or will he think we come against him?"

Again, men turned to look, but the imitation Geoffrey answered, "How could he think thus? Assuredly he'll welcome thee!" >

"How couldst thou know?" cried another disembodied voice from a third quarter. "What lad art thou, to speak thus?"

The boy reddened. "I am the High Warlock's son, as I have told thee! Dost thou doubt my word?" And he turned to call out over the crowd, "Can any call me false?"

"Aye!" Geoffrey cried. "I call thee false!" And he sprang into the air, arrowing straight toward the wagon, landing straight and tall, turning to look out over the crowd proudly, then turning further, to glare at the imposter.

The boy stared, thunderstruck. So did the crowd, confronted by two Geoffreys—and indeed, the imposter was Geoffrey's exact double, matching him inch for inch and feature for feature. A frightened murmur began.

"How sayest thou now, O false one?" Geoffrey demanded. "Tell us thytrue name!"

The boy's chin lifted. "I am Geoffrey Gallowglass, the High Warlock's son!

And who artthou , who doth dare to walk in my semblance?"

"Thou liest, rogue!" Geoffrey shouted. "How durst thou claim my place?"

"Thy charges shall avail thee naught," the double answered, "for 'tis plain to any I am the true Gallowglass!"

A shriek of rage pierced the air, and Cordelia shot over the heads of the crowd on her broomstick, leaping down to the wagon and crying, "Thou liest, rogue! This is my brother, Geoffrey Gallowglass! And I am his sister, the High Warlock's daughter Cordelia!"

A double explosion cracked, and Magnus stood behind her with Gregory at his hip. "She speaks good sooth! And I am Magnus, the High Warlock's eldest!"

"And I his youngest!" Gregory piped. "We all now tell thee, goodfolk, that thou hast been deceived!"

"Even so!" Magnus shouted to the crowd, and clapped the real Geoffrey on the shoulder. "Thisis my brother, the true Geoffrey Gallowglass! He whom thou hast followed is a false and lying knave!"

Geoffrey cast them all a brief, warm look of gratitude, while the imposter stared, appalled. But he recovered quickly and cried aloud, "They all conspire against me! Why, these four are no more brothers and sister than I am a cockerel!

Their claim is false, for I am the true Warlock's child!"

A fearful mutter swept through the crowd, as Cordelia howled in anger and leaped at the boy. Her brothers caught her and held her back, though, and Magnus said evenly, "Nay," then cried aloud for the crowd, "Nay, thou hast no need to claw him with thy nails! Thou art a witch; thou hast but to mink him ill!"

Cordelia's eyes glittered, and the boy said quickly, "Oh, aye, belike thou art truly witch-brats! Indeed, I saw thee fly —but that's no proof that thou art the High Warlock's brood!"

"What proof hastthou ?" Geoffrey retorted.

"Why, this!" and the boy rose five feet into the air, smoothly and easily. A rumble of awe and fear rose from the crowd.

"What proof is that?" Geoffrey sneered, rising up to match him, but Gregory murmured to Magnus, "Ah, then! He is, at the least, truly a warlock!"

" 'Tis the only aspect of him that is true," Magnus growled back.

"Show other proof," Geoffrey taunted, "that I may match and best thee!"

The boy reddened, and disappeared with a bang. Its echo sounded from across the common, and everyone whirled, to see him standing on the roof of a cottage. "Match this an thou canst!" he cried.

"What warlock cannot?" Geoffrey retorted. Air boomed in to fill the space where he'd been, then blasted atop the cottage next to the one on which the young warlock stood, as Geoffrey appeared next to its chimney.

"They look alike, and both work magic!" someone in the crowd cried. "How can we tell which one is true?"

"Why," Cordelia answered proudly, "by their moving lifeless objects! For the High Warlock's lads, alone of all the warlocks in Gramarye, can move things other than themselves!"

The fake paled, but he bounced back instantly, sneering at Geoffrey, "Dost need a lass to speak for thee?"

"Why," Geoffrey retorted, "art thou envious because thou hast no sister?"

"Thou liest, rogue!" the imposter shouted. "My sister bides at home!"

"For such a fib, thou shouldst be caned," Geoffrey snapped, and a quarterstaff wrenched itself out of the hands of a peasant who shrank back with an oath. The stick shot spinning straight toward the false Geoffrey. The boy saw it coming and leaped into the air; the stick passed under him, and he turned to Geoffrey with a taunting laugh.

"Wherefore didst thou move thyself, rather than the staff?" Geoffrey demanded.

The boy frowned. "It did not please me to do so!"

"Then thy pleasures must change," Geoffrey said, with a sour smile. " 'Ware, from thy back!"

The imposter spun about, just in time to see the whirling staff make a great half circle and come spinning back at him. He howled, throwing himself flat on the rooftop, and the staff passed over him. As he scrambled to his hands and knees, it paused and lashed one quick spank across his bottom. He went sprawling with a cry of rage, but Geoffrey's yell of accusation was louder. "Nowwherefore didst thou not seize the stick with thy mind?"

The imposter stood up slowly, glaring in fury, but made no answer.

"Thou didst not because thoucanst not!" Geoffrey cried. "I am the true Geoffrey Gallowglass!"

"Thou art the true liar!" the boy shouted back. "Thou didst move that staff no more than I did! 'Twas thy tame witch who did move it for thee!"

Cordelia howled in indignation, but Gregory said reasonably, "Whether my brother be the true Geoffrey or not,thou must needs be false—for all Gramarye doth know that the High Warlock's sons can move things with their minds. And thou canst not!"

The crowd rumbled in excitement, but the boy shouted, "'Tis a lie!No warlock can move things by thought! If thou sayest the High Warlock's sons can, then do it thyself!"

"Why, that I shall," the six-year-old lisped, and Cordelia floated gently up into the air. She squawked in fury and whirled, trying to reach her little brother, but Magnus cried, "Aye! All know a witch cannot make herself fly! 'Tis why she doth sit on a broomstick and make it to move!Now wilt thou say my sister doth this trick for her brother?"

The imposter's face darkened in fury. "Even as thou dost say—'tis a girl's trick! What lad would practice it, save he who is womanish at heart?"

"Thou insolent rogue!" Geoffrey shouted in fury. "Matchthis 'girl's game,' an thou canst!"

An unseen hand seemed to snatch up the imposter and send him tumbling through the air toward Cordelia. He howled in anger and terror, but Cordelia cried, "I wish him not! Have thy rogue back!" And the spinning imposter suddenly reversed, flying back toward Geoffrey.

"Nay, keep him!" he retorted, and the boy-ball halted a foot from Geoffrey's head, then shot back toward Cordelia. The imposter wailed and, at the top of his arc, disappeared with a bang.

"Out upon him!" Magnus called, but Geoffrey disappeared with a gunshot-crack before he finished the phrase.

The crowd burst into a fury of excited, fearful noise.

Gregory's eyes lost focus. "He hath found the imposter!"

"How could he fail to?" Cordelia said, with an impish smile. "Is't for naught thou hast spent so many hours at play with flit-tag?"

"They will cry to burn witches next, an we do not appease them," Magnus said in an undertone.

Cordelia nodded. "Do so, and quickly!"

Magnus stared. "1? How shall I quiet this mob?"

Cordelia shrugged. "Thou art the eldest."

Magnus favored her with a murderous glare, then looked about in a frantic search for aid.

Aid was sitting in the corner of the wagon, leg propped over folded knee.

"Speak to them," he advised, "and tell them the true end of the Shire-Reeve's actions. They will credit thee, for thou art the High Warlock's son."

Magnus stared at the elf, and swallowed. "Yet what shall I say to them?"

"It shall come to thee," Puck assured him, "and should it not, I shall give thee words."

Magnus gave him a long, steady look, then nodded. "I thank thee, Robin." He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and turned to the crowd, holding his hands up and crying, "Goodfolk, hearken! I beg thee, attend me! Give me a hearing, I pray!"

Here and there, a villager noticed and pointed, telling his neighbor, who turned, then elbowed the one next to him. One by one they quieted, until finally Magnus could make himself heard.

" 'Twas an evil young warlock who did lead thee," Magnus cried, "and the mark of his evilness was this: that he called for combat! It may seem he did not-—

but be not deceived! If the Shire-Reeve fights the lords, 'twill be not one battle, but many! 'Twill be war—and the end of it will be, that the Shire-Reeve will battle the King!"

The crowd erupted into a fury of incredulous noise again, each man demanding of his neighbor if the charge could be true. This time Magnus just waited it out, fists on his hips, knowing they were thinking about the tightness of the Shire-Reeve now, not of the witch-folk.

Gregory tugged at Magnus's tunic. "Is't true, Magnus? Doth the Shire-Reeve truly mean to attack King Tuan?"

"I know not," Magnus confessed, "yet it doth seem likely, doth it not?"

Gregory nodded. "I see no other end to it. But doth the Shire-Reeve?"

That was enough for Magnus. If his baby brother said it was bound to happen, it was inevitable. He held up his hands, signaling for quiet again. When the crowd's babble had begun to slacken, he called out, "Good people, hear me!" and they quieted.

"He who we called brother," Magnus called out, "was the real Geoffrey Gallowglass, the true High Warlock's son! We are his brothers and sister; we are the High Warlock's brood! I tell thee, our mother and father would never approve of this Shire-Reeve's doings! Yet there is much unrest in this Isle of Gramarye at this time, and they cannot be everywhere at once to quiet it!" A neat turn around the facts, there. "Thus are we come to bear word to thee! Wait and watch, and guard thine own villages! Endure in patience and in loyalty to the King and Queen! Join not in the unrest, lest thou dost make it more furious still!"

He began to catch uneasy glances and, at the fringes of the crowd, people began to edge away.

It was the right idea, but he had to make sure he didn't make it sound like blame. "If thou art one of those who hast been cozened away from thine own village, I beg thee: Hasten! None can tell what mischief may be wreaked on thine house or crops whilst thou dost tarry. Go back, and swiftly! Guard thine own!"

Now even people in the center of the crowd began to glance around them, and the ones at the edges turned about and strode away, not caring who saw them.

After all, the High Warlock's eldest had just told them they should do it, hadn't he?

Cordelia breathed a sigh of relief. "Well done, brother! Only now do I bethink me there could have been evil here!"

"Let it depart, also," Magnus said, frowning as he watched the crowd break up. "Gregory, seek! How fares our brother?"

Thunder split the peaceful air of the forest clearing, and Geoffrey looked about him, noting in an instant the debris of burned-out campfires, bones, rags, and vegetable garbage, registering the conclusion that he was in the peasant band's last campsite. It made sense—it was the nearest isolated location the imposter would have remembered, and been able to visualize well enough to teleport to.

Because he was there, of course, in the center of the clearing, with his back to Geoffrey. He whirled about, startled by the thunder-crack, and stared, appalled, at his double. "How didst thou know where to seek me!"

"Why," Geoffrey gloated, "what warlock of any real power would not?"

The boy went dead-white—but he was the kind who attacked when he was terrified. He caught up the nearest dead branch and leaped at Geoffrey.

Geoffrey sidestepped with a mocking laugh, jumped away, and caught up a tree branch of his own. The boy was on him in a second, but Geoffrey met his blow with a block and a counter. The imposter just barely caught it with the tip of his staff and swung a murderous double-handed blow at Geoffrey.

It was a mistake, for it left his whole side unguarded. Geoffrey simply leaped back, let the stick whip past him, then leaped in again, snapping his staff out in a quick, hard blow.

It caught the imposter on the side of the head, sending him spinning and down. Geoffrey stood, waiting for him to get up again, but he didn't.

Foreboding struck the young warrior. For all his belligerence, he himself had never killed, and had only once knocked someone out. Warily, he stepped around and knelt by his opponent's head, reaching down to touch the throat, alert for the boy to jump up and attack—but the imposter stayed still, eyes closed. Geoffrey felt the strong, steady beat of the boy's pulse through the artery, and sat back with a sigh of relief, which turned into a frown.Now what was he supposed to do?

"He hath fought the imposter, and knocked him senseless," Gregory reported. "He asks our aid."

"And certes, he shall have it," Magnus answered, "Sister, do thou, an it please thee, fly aloft o'er the forest, and spy out his place." He closed his eyes, concentrating on Geoffrey's thoughts.

"I have it." Cordelia had bees mind-listening, too. "'Tis a half-day's walk to the north, not far from theHigh Way . I shall see thee there anon." And with no more ado, she hopped on her broomstick and swooped up into the sky.

"I thank thee," Magnus called after her, then paused to frown a moment in concentration.Fess! There is a clearing toward the north, where these peasants did pass the night! Wilt thoufind it, an thou canst, and meet with us therein ?

I shall, Magnus, the horse's thoughts answered. Ihave no doubt I will find it .

Magnus relaxed a little. The imposter might present him with a difficult decision, and he had a notion he was going to need all the advice he could get. He turned to Gregory. "Now, lad! Let the semblance of this clearing fill thy mind."

They both closed their eyes, letting themselves see through Geoffrey's eyes.

A second later, thunder cracked around them; the clearing solidified, and was real.

"We are come," Magnus informed Geoffrey.

"And well come indeed," Geoffrey said heartily. "Nowwhat shall we do with him?"

"Why, let Gregory lull him to deeper sleep, of course." Magnus knelt down by the unconscious imposter. Gregory followed suit, dropping into tailor's seat and closing his eyes. Magnus stared at the face, so completely like his brother's, and felt with his mind as the imposter's breathing deepened and slowed.

"He sleeps most soundly," Gregory said softly. "He will believe whatsoever thou sayest now, and answer whatsoever thou dost ask."

Magnus started to speak, but caught himself and looked up at a hissing of air, as Cordelia brought her broomstick in for a landing near them. "Well met, sister," he said softly. "Here's one for thy questioning."

Cordelia dropped down to kneel by the imposter, muttering, "Thou mightest do this thyself."

"Aye," Magnus admitted, "yet not so well as thee." It was only partly flattery.

Not that Cordelia was really about to object. Her face settled as she stared at the sleeping boy, her mind probing, asking, following question after question, drawing out seven years of information in a few minutes, at the speed of thought.

Her brothers frowned down at the imposter, too, eavesdropping on his thoughts through Cordelia's mind.

They were so intent on the account of the boy*s life that they did not see the huge black horse step quietly into the clearing, and move up behind them.

Finally, Cordelia sat back with a sigh. "Thou hast heard. 'Tis indeed a woeful tale."

"Aye." Gregory's eyes were wide and tragic. "Poor lad, to have never known mother or father!"

"Slain by beastmen." Geoffrey regarded his rival with sympathy. "And himself only living by chance, hidden under the fold of a blanket."

Magnus shook his head, scowling. "How cold were they who raised him!

How unfeeling!"

"Aye," Cordelia said softly, "yet he loved them, for they cared for his needs."

"Therefore he sought ever to please them," Gregory finished, "and still doth."

Geoffrey shook his head with finality. "There will be no shaking his loyalty to them. He will ever cleave to these enemies of our father's."

"Yet how horrible, to set surgeons to changing his face!" Cordelia protested.

"And not once, but thrice!"

"Until he became the image of myself," Geoffrey said grimly, "and his own countenance was clean forgot."

"They have taken away his face," Magnus said softly, "and taken away his sense of self with it. Yet they cannot take his soul."

"I doubt not they would, an they could," Geoffrey said darkly.

"They have allowed him a name, at least," Gregory sighed.

"Bren." Geoffrey said the name slowly, feeling its texture on his tongue.

"Odd, to know another name with my face."

Suddenly, Gregory leaned forward with tears in his eyes. "Let us wake him, and tell him how vile are they who reared him! Oh! Let us bid him come home to our mother and father, and grow up with ones who care for him!"

But Magnus stayed him with a hand on his chest, shaking his head with a very dark frown. "'Tis even as we've said—'twould avail us naught. He will never believe evil of his masters; he is loyal."

"Yet what should we do with him?" Geoffrey said softly.

They were all silent, none of them wishing to say it.

"Thou shouldst slay him." Puck was there suddenly, gazing somberly about at each one of them.

They stared at him in horror.

"It would be prudent," Fess admitted. "This child has been bred to mimic Geoffrey, and to oppose him. Further, he has been indoctrinated with beliefs which are the antithesis of your own. If he lives, he will one day be your enemy—and when he has grown, he may have acquired the skills and strategy to defeat you."

"'Tis even as he saith," Puck agreed. "'Twould be best war-lore to now slay him."

The children looked at one another in guilty foreboding. Even Geoffrey's face was haunted.

"Yet thou wilt not, and therefore I rejoice," the elf went on. "To slay a sleeping child would twist thy souls to a course that could only end in devotion to evil. Nay, thou wilt let him live, and I'm glad of it."

Fess nodded in approval. "I must agree. To slay him is the course of prudence—but to spare him is the course of wisdom."

"Yet what shall we do with him, then?" Cordelia whispered.

"Why, walk away, and leave him," the elf answered. "What else?"

They were all silent.

Then Magnus stood, slowly, and turned away.

After a minute, Gregory too stood up, murmuring, "Wake when thou canst no longer hear our footsteps," and turned to follow Magnus.

A moment later, Cordelia followed him.

Finally, Geoffrey rose, face thunderous, and went after them.

Puck heaved a sigh of relief and disappeared into the brush.

As they went out of the clearing, Geoffrey said darkly, "This is unwise, brother. An we let him live, we allow a viper to flourish."

"Yet he himself hath done no evil," Cordelia pleaded. "At the least, brother, let him grow up!"

"Aye," Magnus agreed. "That much is the right of every child."

"Well, I will be ruled by thee in this," Geoffrey grumbled. "Yet I prophesy, brother, that he will bring disaster upon our heads when we're grown!"

Magnus walked on for a few paces, not answering. Then he said, "What sayest thou to that, Gregory?"

"Geoffrey is right in this matter," Gregory answered. "We must begin to prepare ourselves for that battle."

Chapter 15

The children made their way through the forest, unnaturally quiet, the thought of the false Geoffrey weighing on all their minds.

Suddenly, Fall popped up next to Cordelia's knee. "There's one who doth ask for thee."

They all stared at her.

Then Cordelia found her voice. "For me?"

"For all of thee. He is of a size with thee, little lady, and hath wandered into the wood unaccompanied."

"A boy?" Magnus and Geoffrey exchanged puzzled glances. "Who could be seeking us?"

"What name hath he?" Cordelia asked.

"His name is Alain, and he doth say he is a prince."

"Alain!" Cordelia clapped her hands, and the boys grinned. "Oh, bring him!

Bring him!"

Fall smiled, relaxing. "Well, if thou dost know him. Elves unseen hath led him toward thee for a day now—he did first seek thee some leagues away, nearRunnymede ."

The children looked at one another, wide-eyed. "Why, that cannot be far from theRoyalPalace !"

"'Tis even so," Fall agreed. "He did sit 'neath a pine, calling, 'Wee folk, come and aid!' And they saw 'twas but a child, so they came near, yet not too near, and showed themselves, asking, 'What aid dost thou seek?' And he bade the elves take him to thee. Yet they would not, without thy consent; for aught we knew, he might have been thine enemy."

"Nay, he is our friend! Or as close to one as we have." Witch-children didn't find many playmates. "Wilt thou bring him to us?"

"Assuredly, an thou dost ask it." Fall ducked away, and Summer followed her.

"'Tis most dangerous for a prince to be abroad alone," Magnus said, frowning. "Doth he not know his father's ene-mies could seize him and hold him hostage, to threaten the King?"

"Alain doth not think of such things," Geoffrey said, with some assurance; he'd spent enough time scrapping with the prince to know him pretty well.

"Yet assuredly, his bodyguards do! How have they permitted him to wander by himself?"

Geoffrey grinned. "I misdoubt me an theypermitted him."

None of the children wondered why Alain was looking for them. After all, who else did he have to play with? His own brother was smaller than Gregory.

The boy came around a huge oak tree, following the two fairies who skipped before him. He wore a flat, round cap, leather breeches tucked into his boots, and a surcoat of stout green broadcloth; but the waistcoat beneath it was of gold brocade, and his shirt was of silk.

"Alain!" Cordelia squealed.

The prince looked up, saw her, and his face burst into a grin of delight. He ran toward them.The fairies dodged out of his way. He threw his arms around Cordelia, crying, "'Tis so good to see thee!" Then he whirled away to pump Magnus's hand. Geoffrey stepped up to throw him a companionable punch in the arm. Alain spun with a left hook that sent Geoffrey sprawling. He leaped up and waded in, fists clenched and grinning, but Magnus stepped between them. "Nay!"

" 'Tis but in good friendship," Geoffrey protested.

"Aye," Alain agreed. "How else do two warriors greet one another?"

"With raised visors and courtly bows! Blows arouse tempers, and spoil friendships!"

Geoffrey made a rude noise. Magnus glared at him.

Gregory tugged at Alain's arm. "Where is Diarmid?"

"At home, with our mother," Alain explained. "Father bade me also to bide with her, but I could not stand it."

"Even so," Geoffrey sympathized. "'Tis hard, when battles are brewing."

"Oh, aye, but an 'twere naught but that, I'd never have disobeyed him."

"He is, after all, thy liege as well as thy father," Magnus agreed. "What matter's of great enough moment to bring thee out 'gainst his command?"

"And why dost thou seek us?" Geoffrey crowded in. " 'Tis not as though

'twere playtime."

"'Tis not, in truth," Alain agreed, "but I know not to whom else I may turn. I am greatly afeard for my father." Suddenly, he looked very serious, even somber.

Nothing had changed in the way he stood, but the children were somehow reminded that he was a prince.

"We can do but little," Magnus hedged. "We are not, after all, our parents."

"Yet what power we do own, is thine!" Geoffrey avowed. "What moves, Highness? Wherefore is thy sire in such straits?"

Alain looked from one to the other of them, and his eyes glowed with gratitude; but he said only, "The barons have risen in chaos, brawling and warring against one another like drunken serfs on a feast-day. Father hath marched out to pack them singly home."

Geoffrey scowled, and Magnus asked, "Do their dukes naught to bring them to heel?"

Alain shook his head. "And 'tis in my mind that they do let their vassals test the King for them, ere they do commit their own armies."

"And their sons," Geoffrey reminded. "Thy father doth still hold the heirs of the twelve great lords as hostages, doth he not?"

Alain wrinkled his nose. "Aye, and a noisome lot they are, forever swilling up ale and pestering the serving-wenches— and brawling amongst themselves."

The children nodded, without saying anything; they had understood for some time that Alain's friendly feelings toward them had a lot to do with the quality of the only alternatives available. "The dukes act prudently, then," Geoffrey said, "yet mayhap not wisely."

"Aye," Alain agreed. "This is their chance to gain Father's trust again, they who rebelled against him so long ago…"

(It was thirteen years.)

"… yet they will not. Nay, he'll never trust them more, when he hath won through." The prince's face darkened, and the children knew what he was thinking without reading his mind—if hisfather won.

"But there's no question that thy father will win!" Geoffrey cried. "They are only counts. A King with a royal army should have little trouble with them!"

"Aye," Alain agreed, "yet there's this upstart of a Shire-Reeve."

The children stared.

Then Magnus frowned. "Surely a Shire-Reeve cannot be greater trouble than a count!"

"This one may be," Alain said. "He hath gathered an army in but a few days'

space."

Geoffrey glanced at Magnus. "This must have begun ere our parents were taken."

Alain stared. "I had heard thy parents were stolen, and it did grievously trouble Their Majesties—but how is't thou hadst already heard of the Shire-Reeve?"

"We did meet with a peasant wench who did taunt a plow-boy 'til he did march off to join the Shire-Reeve," Magnus explained.

"She did nearly bewitch Magnus and Geoffrey into a-joining with him, too,"

Gregory piped up.

Geoffrey flushed and turned to swat his little brat, but Cordelia blocked his swing. "Aye, they would most gleefully have marched away with her!"

"Praise Heaven they did not!" Alain went pale at the mere thought of the Shire-Reeve with the powers of Magnus and Geoffrey behind him.

"Nay, praise Puck—for he did break her spell," Cordelia informed him. "Be sure, she was a witch of a sort." She turned to her brothers. "Do not regard me so darkly—there's no shame in being enchanted!"

But Magnus said only, "There is," and turned back to Geoffrey. "I should not think a mob of plowboys would trouble thy father—they are raw, untrained in battle."

"They have already fought with three counts, and have won," Alain said grimly, "and many soldiers from those defeated bands were eager to join with the Shire-Reeve. Nay, he hath an army as large as Father's now, though not so well-trained or experienced

"And certes not so well led!" Geoffrey affirmed. It wasn't flattery—King Tuan was an excellent general.

"My thanks," Alain said with a bow, "and I own, I would not be concerned were it but a matter of the Shire-Reeve—but five counts have marched up behind Father's army."

Geoffrey stared; then he frowned. "'Tis odd that five should act together, when they have but lately been battling one another."

"It is, in truth," Alain concurred. "Yet I have heard Father say that many of the noblemen have taken seneschals, whom he did not like, and I think they may have counseled their counts."

The Gallowglass children exchanged glances. 'Tis those minions of SPITE

that Father hath told us of, Magnus thought.

Aye, yet he did not know that they had come as seneschals, Geoffrey answered.

Mayhap he did, but did not tell us, Gregory added.

They shared a moment of indignation at the thought that their father might not keep them up-to-date on matters of state.

Then Geoffrey turned to Alain. "Still, though, these counts are little threat, unless by hap they all attack together, and that when thy father's engaged in battle with this Shire-Reeve."

"Even so," Alain said, "yet that is just what I fear."

Gregory nodded. "The King is, after all, the greatest stumbling-block in each one's path. An he were defeated, each could seek to enlarge his own demesne without let or hindrance."

"Save for their dukes," Alain said darkly, "and if Father were…" he swallowed. "… if Father were gone, the great lords most probably would whip their vassals right smartly into their places."

"Aye, then march 'gainst each other," Magnus said, frowning, "and make one great turmoil out of our fair land."

"And whiles they were battling one another, the Shire-Reeve would no doubt serve them as he would have served the King," Geoffrey added "battling one, while another doth attack from the rear—and, by the time the dukes did band against him, his army would have grown too great to defeat."

"The fools!" Magnus cried. "Do they not see that, if they aid him now, this Reeve will presently reave them, one by one?"

Alain stared. "Dost thou think he doth seek the throne?"

"I am certain of it."

"Yet how can he?" Alain protested. "He is of common birth, scarcely a gentleman!"

"He doth see no bar in that," Magnus said. "Nay, for such an one, that is all the more reason to seek to rule!"

Alain's eyes narrowed; his face darkened. "'Tis a vile churl, then, and doth deserve to be drawn and quartered!"

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 wholelandofGramarye 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 oftheir vassals?"

The children stared at one another.

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

"In point of fact," Fess reminded them, "they did notsay 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 usethem , 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 deceivethose 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?"

Chapter 16

"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 aprince !"

"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, Ithink 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.

"I am not a baby," Alain said, glowering.

"Nay, thou art nine now, and fully come into childhood. Yet thou art the heir!"

"Yet I've a smaller brother at home!"

" 'Tis for thy father to place thee at risk, not for me!"

"But he'll never do so!"

"Nay, he will—when he doth believe thou art a strong enough fighter. Yet that waits till thou art sixteen, lad, or older."

"That is seven years!" Alain wailed.

"Enjoy them whilst thou may," Puck advised him, "and I shall see thou art alive to do so. Now go to safety!"

"Wherefore dothey stay?" Alain pointed at the Gallow-glasses.

"For that they are in my care, and must stay where I do— and for that they've no parents to be sent home to. Fear not—I'll keep them as safe as thou wilt be."

"Oh, nay!" Geoffrey protested, but Alain bawled, "'Tis not fair!"

"Nay, but 'tis merciful. Go now to thy mother!"

"I'll not take him!" Kelly declared. "My place is here, with the witch-children!"

"Thy place is wheresoe'er the Hobgoblin doth send thee. What, elf! Wilt thou question the King of Elves?"

"He is not here," Kelly snapped.

"Nay, but he hath given this brood into my care—and wilt command as I do: that the Heir have guard to his parent!"

"'Tis thou dost say it, not he," Kelly grumbled; but he seemed wary now.

"Shall I ask it of him, then? Nay, thou canst reach to him as quickly as I!

Shall we go? 'Tis but a matter of minutes, for elves."

Kelly glowered at him, but didn't speak.

Puck held his gaze level, fists on hips, waiting.

Finally, Kelly snapped, "Well enough, then! It shall be as thou dost say!"

Puck smiled. "Brave elf!" He turned back to Alain. "And wilt thou, too, be as worthy?"

"Where is the worth in retreat?" Alain burst out. "Wouldst thou have me flee from danger?"

"Aye, till thou art grown. What! Must I summon His Elfin Majesty to command thee, too?"

"He may not! I am Prince of Gramarye!"

"And he is a king, who may by right command a prince— yet his power's within himself, not his army, and can be wielded on the moment. Wilt thou go to thy home for safety,

or wilt thou be kept on a lily pad?"

"Thou canst not afright me thus!" Alain declared, but he looked less certain than he sounded. "Attempt it, then—and answer to my father for what thou hast done to the Royal Heir!"

Puck reddened, and his voice fell to a deadly quiet. "Wilt thou go, or must I send word to the Queen?"

"Mummy is fifty miles distant!" Alain wailed.

"Aye, yet thy father's but half a league onward—and so is his belt."

Alain glared at Puck for a moment longer, but finally could not hold it. He collapsed with a sigh. "Even so, then. I shall go."

Puck nodded, but showed no sign of victory. He turned to Kelly and said,

"Guide him, elf. And see thou he doth come to his parent ere morn!"

When darkness enveloped the forest glade, Puck moved silently among the sleeping children, shaking them and murmuring, "Wake. The moon is up, as thou must be, also."

One by one, they sat up, stretching and yawning.

"I could sleep the night through," Geoffrey sighed.

"Do so, then!" said Magnus. "Puck and I will suffice to tend to this Shire-Reeve."

"Nay," Geoffrey said quickly. "I am fully awakened."

Cordelia lay nestled against the unicorn, who lay on her side, tummy against the girl's back. Now she sat up, blinking, cuddling Gregory against her. That meant the little boy had to sit up, too, but as soon as he did, his eyes sagged shut again.

"Do thy best to waken him," Puck advised. "Thou two must be most alert, when we do return."

Cordelia kissed Gregory on the forehead and gave him a little shake, murmuring, "Waken thou, mannikin." Little Brother lifted his head, blinking; then his eyelids closed, and so did hers. Cordelia shook her head and turned to Puck. "He shall be wakeful, when thou dost return."

Puck nodded and said, "Keep safe, then. Fairies do watch thee." He turned to Magnus and Geoffrey, "Let us go. I have been to the Shire-Reeve's tent already, and long did I wait till he ceased his work with parchments, and lay down to steep; yet now he doth slumber, and I've deepened his sleep with a spell."

Magnus nodded. "Aye, let us away."

Puck caught their hands and nodded. All three disappeared. With a boom, air rushed in to fill the space where they'd been.

Two young men stood guard at the door to the Shire-Reeve's tent. One had been a member of the Reeve's trained band of armed men for several years; the other was a raw recruit, a shepherd boy, who kept watching his veteran partner closely, trying to imitate him, holding his pitchfork the same way the constable held his pike.

Something exploded inside the tent. The two men whirled about, staring.

They heard the Shire-Reeve cry out, then heard the explosion again. The two men stared at each other in alarm, then crashed together as they both tried to jam through the tent flap at the same time.

They tumbled in, weapons at the ready, staring about them wildly.

"Hold up the tent flap," the veteran barked.

The shepherd turned and yanked the flap high. Moonlight streamed in, enough to show them the Shire-Reeve's cot, empty.

In the forest glade, the two boys appeared with a thunder-crack, a full-grown man held horizontally between them. His feet dropped to the ground, and he thrashed his way upright, shaking off the boys' hands. "Witchcraft! Vile dwarves, who…"

He broke off, staring at the small figure confronting him, only as high as his knee, but with a very stony look on his face. "Thou, who dost nail up Cold Iron over every door, and dost never leave milk for the brownies," Puck grated, "wilt now face the Puck!"

While the Shire-Reeve stood silent for just that one moment, Cordelia, in the shadows, stared at the quarterstaff that lay hidden in the grass. It leaped up and cracked into the Shire-Reeve's head. He fell like a pole-axed steer.

The Shire-Reeve awoke, frowning against a splitting headache. He tried to sit up, but couldn't lift his arms to support himself. In sudden panic, he thrashed about, trying to move his hands and legs, but found they were lashed securely together, with the arms bound tightly to his sides. He looked about him, panting, wild-eyed, and saw four children of varying sizes, gazing down at him. A shadow moved behind them; he recognized it for a huge black warhorse with glowing eyes, and a chill ran down his back. Then something stepped up beside the horse into a patch of moonlight, and he saw a silver head with a long, straight horn spearing out from the forehead —and centering on him. The chill spread into his belly, and turned into dread.

"Look down," suggested a deep voice.

The Shire-Reeve did, and turned completely cold. There, in front of the children, stood a foot-and-a-half-high elf with blood in his eye.

"Be honored," the mannikin grated. "Few mortals ever do see the Puck."

The Shire-Reeve lay stiffly, panting, wide-eyed. Frantically, he strove to compose himself, to collect his thoughts.

"I know thee," Puck said. "Thou art Reginald, son of Turco, who was squire to Sir Bartolem—and thou dost call thyself 'squire' too, though thou hast no right to it, sin that thou hast never borne a knight's armor, nor cared for his horse."

The middle-sized boy started at that, then glared down at the man.

The Shire-Reeve nodded, trying to slow his breathing. He swallowed and said, "Aye." He swallowed again and said, "Then the Wee Folk are real."

As real as thou, but with a deal more sense," Puck said with sarcasm. "Wedo not make spectacles of ourselves, flaunting our power for all men to admire—or women, in thy case."

Reginald's face darkened. He was glad of the anger he felt; it helped restore him to himself.

Puck nodded toward the children behind him and said, "I can see in thine eyes that thou dost dismiss these children as being of no consequence. Thou art a fool; they are the High Warlock's brood."

Reginald stiffened, staring from one little face to another.

Puck nodded. "Aye, thou hast cause to fear them. They will have little mercy for the man who did kidnap their parents."

"I did not!" Reginald cried. "Who saith this of me? 'Tis a false lie!" And it was, in a way—he had only spoken with those odd scrawny men with the gaunt faces and the wild looks in their eyes, telling them that the King was a tyrant, and so was Earl Tudor and even Count Glynn. He had claimed to believe all the noblemen were, and had sworn he wished to destroy them all, letting the people live freely on their own, with none to oppress them. And the odd men had smiled, eyes glittering, and promised to aid him in any way they could— they were wizards, after all, and owned a kind of magic that few witches knew of.

So he had asked them to kidnap the High Warlock and his wife.

All of that passed through his mind as he stared at the elf with the High Warlock's children behind him, their faces growing darker and darker with anger. He hadn't asked enough of the weird men; he should have asked them to take the children, too…

He let none of that show in his face. He only said stoutly, "I did not abduct the High Warlock!"

But the children didn't believe him, he could see it in their faces. With a sinking heart, he remembered that they were warlocks and a witch, and that they could hear thoughts. "'Tis not true!" he burst out; but the elf only said, "We had guessed already what thou hast thought. Yet who put this notion of conquest into thy mind? Was it the other wizards, they who go about dressed as peasants and speak to the common folk of their miseries? Or didst thou come to think of it by thine own self?"

"Nay, 'tis all false!" Reginald insisted. "I did but seek to keep the peace in mine own shire! And when I saw there were bandits throughout all of Tudor, I marched out against them!" He tried desperately not to think of those scabrous, tattered men coming to him when he was, very truthfully, only seeking to keep the peace, which did not take much doing—only the occasional poacher, and the peasant who drank too much on a feast day; but it was enough to earn the King's silver, and keep him in his grand, stone house. But those false peasants with the burning eyes had convinced him he could have more, so much more—the whole Earldom, perhaps even the whole kingdom! And they were right, it was possible—

for he had an army now, and those magical weapons the wizards had given him! He would defeat the King, with the aid of those foolish counts. Or, rather, with the help of the other wizards, the ones who said they were spiteful, and who swore they could persuade a few of the counts to attack the King from the rear. For a moment, the fear clamored up in him—what if they did not? What if he attacked the King's army, and found himself fighting alone?

Then he thrust the fear down. It was needless; the wizards had sworn he would win, both the peasant ones and the spiteful ones.

"The King hath the aid of the Wee Folk," Puck grated, "and the magic of all the royal witches and warlocks—and even these half-fledged ones are mighty. Be sure, an thou dost fight His Majesty, thou shalt lose."

For a moment, panic seized Reginald. Could the elf speak truly? But he forced the fear down; the goblin was only trying to frighten him, to defeat him by destroying his confidence! Yet Reginald would confound him; Reginald would face the King and beat him. But he would not go on to take the title of "dictator," as the peasantish wizards wished him to, nor would he set up their odd system of officials to control every aspect of the people's lives. Neither would he continue to battle the noblemen and kill them all off, letting the serfs and peasants run riot, as the spiteful wizards wanted him to. Nay, he would seize the crown!

"Thou dost seek to establish thine own dynasty." Puck glared into Reginald's eyes, and the Shire-Reeve felt as though they pierced him to his very soul. "Thou dost seek to beget sons, who will take the title of King from thee when thou dost die."

"Nay!" Reginald said. "'Tis not one word of truth in it!" But there was, of course—and not just one word, but every word.

Puck looked up at the children. "Thou hast heard his thoughts—he doth seek to rule. Yet he hath neither the wit nor the strength for it." He turned back to the Shire-Reeve. "Thou wilt finish by serving the ends of the spiteful wizards —for of such ambitions as yours, is anarchy bred."

The Shire-Reeve stared into Puck's eyes, and realized that the elf and the children had heard even the thoughts he'd sought to suppress. With a sinking heart, he read his doom in their faces.

"What shall we do with him?" Magnus whispered.

A brawny forearm slammed into his face, and a knife-point poised in front of his eye. "Hold!" snarled a voice like a bro-ken garlic bottle. "Witch's brat!"

On the other side of the knife, Magnus saw another soldier with a sword pricking his sister's stomach and, beside her, Gregory at arm's length over a third soldier's head, squalling with terror, about to be thrown. Terror for his younger brother galvanized Magnus. Without even thinking, he aimed the emotion with the old sorcerer's torture-spell, and the third soldier screamed in agony, clutching his head as burning pain stabbed through it, dropping Gregory. The little boy drifted downward and landed as lightly as a feather.

Geoffrey was struggling and kicking in a fourth soldier's arms. A rock shot up off the forest floor and crashed into the second soldier's head. He gave a hoarse shout, then folded, sword dropping harmless to the ground. Cordelia stared at it, and it swooped up toward the soldier holding Magnus.

"Hold!" the man shouted. "An it comes nearer, thou'lt have a blind brother!"

The children froze.

Soldiers stared at them, warily. Then a sergeant barked, and farm boys leaped in to point pitchforks at the children.

The Shire-Reeve grinned. "Well done, Bardolf! Now, Harold—cut my bonds!"

A man-at-arms hurried over to cut through the ropes that held his master. The Shire-Reeve sat up, rubbing his wrists, then caught Harold's arm for support as he climbed to his feet.

How did they find us? Geoffrey thought.

A slender man in herald's livery stepped forth from the group of soldiers with a contemptuous smile.

He is a warlock! Cordelia thought.

The slender man gave her a mock bow.Dorlf Carter at thy service, lady .

I wonder that he gives us his name, Geoffrey thought darkly.Come what may, we'll know who to hang .

Dorlf glared at him with narrowed eyes. Then he turned to the Shire-Reeve.

"Thou shouldst slay that one with no more ado, Squire."

Cordelia's gaze leaped up to him, startled. Then she glared at the pitchfork that was pointed at her tummy.

Magnus followed suit, staring cross-eyed at the dagger in front of his eyes.

The nearest soldier swung his pike up, and would have died in agony at that moment, if the Shire-Reeve had not held up a hand. "Nay, hold! These children are of too great value to be slain out of hand! King Tuan will never dare fight us, so long as we hold these!"

His face hard as flint, Geoffrey gave the telepath a stare like a poniard, and Dorlf shrieked, clapping his hands to his temples, back arched in agony.

"Stop him!" the Shire-Reeve shouted, and soldiers leaped to Dorlf's aid. "Not him, you fools—the child!"

A tendril of smoke spun up from the hand of the soldier guarding Cordelia, and he howled with pain, dropping his sword.

The knife in front of Magnus's eyes glowed cherry-red, and the soldier dropped it with a bellowed oath. Both blades landed in dried leaves; flames bloomed and soldiers shouted in panic, stamping at the blaze.

Dorlf dropped to the ground, unconscious or worse.

"Kill them!" the Shire-Reeve shouted, his face dark with anger.

The soldiers turned on the children, chopping with swords and pikes—but their weapons jerked in their hands and slammed back against their chests, knocking them into the peasant recruits trying to come up from behind.

Gregory clung to Cordelia's skirts and stared at the soldiers behind his big sister and brothers—and pebbles and sticks shot up at them from the forest floor.

The farm boys stumbled backward, swearing; then their faces hardened, and they stepped forward again, arms up to guard their faces. But Gregory had found the larger rocks now, which cracked into the soldiers' heads. They bellowed in pain and retreated. One dropped his sword, and it leaped up, whirling in midair like a windmill in a gale, turning from side to side as though it were looking for someone to slice.

The peasant soldiers stepped back farther, poised to dart in at the sign of an opening

—but there wasn't one.

Fess's hooves and teeth seemed to be everywhere, and the unicorn's horn darted about, bright with blood—but there were a hundred soldiers, and more.

Geoffrey stepped forward, pale with rage. The soldiers in front of him knocked backward, sprawling against the ones behind them to either side as though a snowplow had hit them. The invisible plow moved onward, shooting off bow-waves of soldiers.

No, Geoffrey! Magnus thought; but his younger brother didn't even seem to hear him. He stepped forward, a foot at a time, as though he were wading through molasses. One thought, and one thought only, rang through his mind, again and again, like the tolling of a funeral bell:The Shire-Reeve! Though I die, I will slay the Shire-Reeve !

Magnus leaped in behind, adding his power to Geoffrey's, slamming soldiers back against one another. He didn't want to see murder—but if someone had to die, it was going to be the Shire-Reeve, not his brother.

"Slay them!" the Shire-Reeve shouted, pale with fright, and the soldiers leaped in. There were fifty of them, all grown men, and only two young boys. A wave of peasants slammed into the backs of the front rank, and the front rank pitched forward, crashing down on top of the boys. Cordelia screamed in rage, and rocks struck the soldiers nearest the pile—but they fell forward, on top of the stack.

Underneath, Geoffrey squirmed, pinned to the ground, fighting for breath he couldn't get; then more soldiers slammed down on top, more and more, pinning him down, crushing him, and the fear of death seeped through his every fiber. He fought back hysterically, and his brother did, too, repelling the crushing pile above them with every ounce of adrenaline shooting through them. The pile lurched, heaved—and steadied. More soldiers leaped on, and more, collapsing the bubble of telekinetic force that protected the young warlocks, jamming the huge pile of flesh down on top of them, crushing, flattening…

A hoarse shout rang through the forest: "For the Queen and for Gramarye!"

And, suddenly, soldiers in the royal colors were leaping out of the trees around the clearing, faces shadowed under brimmed metal helmets, the blazon of the King's elite Flying Legion on their surcoats, charging in at the Shire-Reeve's ragtag peasant boys, chopping down at them with pikes, stabbing with long spears. The Shire-Reeve's men turned, with howls of terror and rage, fighting back. Pikes flashed; men dropped with blood pumping from their chests, gushing out of slashed necks. A head went flying; a headless corpse fell to the forest floor.

With a tearing scream, the huge black horse reared, steel hooves lashing out, the unicorn beside it, goring men with its silver horn. The Shire-Reeve's men howled in superstitious fear and crowded back against their own companions in a huge knot, surrounded by King's men.

Through it all raged a great chestnut warhorse with a golden knight on its back, shouting, "Onward, brave fellows!

Onward! For glory and freedom! Hurl the soldiers aside! Hack through to the core! Seize the vile recreant who seeks to slay children!"

"King Tuan!" Cordelia cried, eyes streaming.

The King it was, laying about him, hacking and hewing his way to the pile of men on top of the boys.

That pile exploded with sudden, shattering force, a dozen men flying outward, striking their fellows and knocking them down. An eighteen-inch elf stood where they'd been, face pale with fury, as the two boys scrambled to their feet, gasping for breath.

"Ga-a-a-llowgla-a-ss!" a great voice bellowed, and a small dark body shot from the King's horse like a cannonball, landing beside the two boys, laying about him, two feet high, huge-headed and black-bearded—Brom O'Berin, the King's Privy Councillor, come to defend the children who were his favorites in all the land. He leaped, kicking and slamming punches. Armed soldiers fell back from his blows.

Foot by foot, he cleared the path between the boys and Cordelia, and she caught up Gregory and ran to her brothers with a glad cry.

The Shire-Reeve's men turned to face the new enemy—but they were all about, ringing in the whole clearing, crowding in by the hundred, against fifty. The Shire-Reeve's guards fought with the desperation of men who know they cannot retreat; but one young soldier cried, "Mercy! I yield me! Have mercy!" and dropped his pike, throwing his arms up, palms open. A King's soldier yanked him by the collar, hurling him behind and out of the fight, where more soldiers, coming out of the trees, stood ready to catch him and tie him up.

Seeing him still alive, other soldiers began to cry, "I yield me!"

"I yield me!" The King's men caught them and pulled them out of danger.

"He is a traitor who yields him!" the Shire-Reeve shouted. "A traitor and a fool! Fight! 'Tis thine only hope—for the King shall hang thee if thou dost surrender!"

"A pardon to any man who yields him!" King Tuan bellowed. "Full pardon and mercy! I shall hang no man who was constrained to fight! Surrender and live!"

"He lies!" The Shire-Reeve screamed; but the King knocked the last bodyguard aside, and his horse leaped up to the Reeve.

The Shire-Reeve howled like a berserker in fury and stabbed at the King, sword-point probing for the eye-slits in the helmet; but Tuan's sword leaped to parry, whirled about in riposte, and stabbed down as the King lunged, full extension.

The Shire-Reeve gave a last curdling scream, and his eyes glazed even as the sword transfixed him, piercing his heart. Then he fell, and Tuan yanked the sword free.

"Thy master is dead!" he roared. "Yield! What cause hast thou for fighting now?

Yield thee, and live!"

The Shire-Reeve's soldiers hesitated, for but a second— but that was enough for Tuan's finest. In that moment, they struck the weapons from their enemies' hands and set the points of their pikes to the throats of the Reeve's men. The enemy shouted, "I yield me! I yield me!" holding up their empty hands, and King Tuan wiped his blade and cried, "Let them live!"'

When the soldiers had shackled the Shire-Reeve's officers and led them away, Tuan nodded to his own men. "Let them flee."

Glowering, the legionnaires stood aside, and the Shire-Reeve's peasants blinked up at them, trying to believe they were really free, but afraid they were not.

"I did declare I would not harm any man who hath been constrained to fight for the Shire-Reeve," Tuan said. "Now go, and tell thy fellows what hath happed here."

With a glad cry, the peasant boys turned and bolted.

As they disappeared among the trees, Brom O'Berin rumbled, "Was that wise, Majesty?"

"It was," Tuan said, with full certainty. "They will bear word to the Shire-Reeve's army, and the army will disband, each man going to his home, as most of them wish to do. The remainder will know their cause is lost with the Shire-Reeve's death." Then he turned to the children.

Four chastened and humbled Gallowglasses looked up at him with foreboding—and an apprehensive Puck eyed Brom O'Berin warily.

"We thank thee, Majesty, that thou hast saved us in our hour of desperation,"

Magnus managed.

"I rejoice that I came in time," Tuan returned. "Yet I trust thou hast learned not to meddle with armies again, till thou art grown!"

"Oh, aye!"

" 'Twas dangerous folly, we now know!"

"We will never dare such hazard again!"

Tuan reserved his own opinion about that—and he noticed that Geoffrey hadn't said anything. Still, he counted his winnings and decided to stand pat.

Cordelia said, greatly daring, "Yet how didst thou know we stood in such great need"of rescue?"

Tuan smiled. "For that, thou hast another to thank." He turned to the trees and called, "Come forth, Highness!"

There was a moment's silence; then Alain stepped out from between the trees with Kelly beside him.

The silence stretched; then Puck muttered, "I commanded thee to take him home!"

"Aye, ye did." Kelly's beard jutted up defiantly. "Yet if I had, what would have become of the other children?"

"Would thou hadst ta'en such great caution with all those entrusted to thy care." Brom O'Berin glared at Puck.

Puck looked away. "Who could ha' known the Shire-Reeve had his own tame warlock?"

"Who should ha' known better than the Puck?" Brom re-torted.

Puck bit his lip. "I cry thy worship's pardon; I mistook."

"Gentlefolk," Tuan murmured. Dwarf and elf alike fell si-lent, and the King bowed gravely to his son. "I thank thee for thy timely news."

Equally formally, the Crown Prince returned the bow. "I rejoice that I have been of service." He cast a glance at the Gallowglasses. "Mother was so far away—

and 'twas even as Puck said: Father was scarce two miles off!"

"Let him not deceive thee," Tuan said kindly. "He was concerned for thy safety."

"As well he should have been," Brom muttered.

"And I must thankthee ," Tuan said to the Gallowglasses, "for thy loyalty. An all my subjects were so true and courageous, I would have little to concern me."

They stood, staring; then Cordelia, blushing, dropped a curtsy, and the boys, suddenly remembering their manners, bowed. "We are only glad that we could aid,"

Cordelia said.

"'Tis well for me that thou didst. Thanks to thee, this greatest threat to Queen Catharine and myself—and thy friends the princes—is removed; for, due to thine action, I took this Shire-Reeve unawares, yet with honor."

The blush spread to the boys.

Tuan turned to Alain. "Thou hast served me well this day, my son."

Alain fairly beamed.

"Yet I cannot help but wonder," Brom O'Berin rumbled, "how much of what they did was out of fear for Their Majesties, and how much was adventure." He glowered at Kelly. "Thou, I'll wager, couldst not abide the thought of being far from battle."

The elf hunched in on himself, but Puck spoke up. "The fault, my lord, was mine. 'Twas I who led them out against enemies."

"Aye, but the enemy was not the Shire-Reeve," Magnus said quickly. "'Twas a fell giant, who gave us little trouble."

Brom's head snapped up; he stared, appalled.

"Coming to fight the Shire-Reeve wasour choice," Geoffrey seconded.

"Yet not thine idea." King Tuan bent a stern eye on his son, who seemed to shrink. "I mind me an I bade a certain person to bide at home, for the protection of his mother."

"I could not see thee go against such odds," Alain wailed.

"Bless thee for thy caring, son," Tuan said, thawing a little, "yet I've faced such odds before, and won."

With Papa's aid, Magnus thought; but he didn't say it aloud.

"Yet I cannot pretend I am not happy at the outcome of thy disobedience,"

Tuan admitted. "Indeed, thine aid was most fortunate."

"Fortunate indeed," Brom rumbled. "In truth, 'twas but good fortune that none of thee were slain, or maimed."

The children shrank in on themselves again.

"He doth but speak the truth," Tuan said, some sternness returning.

"We know," Magnus said, his voice low. "Had it not been for thy timely rescue, we'd ha' been crow's meat this even-tide."

"Indeed thou wouldst have," Brom O'Berin agreed. "Therefore, hearken! I now command thee to get to thine home! And sweep, adorn, and wash it, that thy parents may have pleasant housen when that they return!"

"Dost thou think they will?" Magnus's eyes lit.

Brom shrugged impatiently. "A universe could not keep them from thee. 'Tis but a matter of time. Therefore, go!" He glared at Puck. "Directly, to their home!

Conduct them, Robin—and let them not linger by the wayside!"

"I go, I go!" Puck cried. "See how I go!"

"Be sure, I will," Brom said.

"Thou also." Tuan fixed his son with a stern gaze. "Thou must not risk thyself further."

"Must I go home then after all?" Alain protested.

The wood was quiet while Tuan gazed at his son thoughtfully. At last he said,

"Nay, I think not."

Alain grinned, delighted.

"A prince must learn the ways of battle," Tuan explained, "and this will be a proper chance for learning, now that the Shire-Reeve is felled and there's little danger. These petty barons are not like to combine against me—and, one by one, I may swat them like flies. Yet an thou art with me, my concern for thy safety will hamper me; I will not strike as swiftly and fully as I ought. Therefore must thou promise most devoutly to stay within my tent, whiles I do battle."

Some of the glow left the prince. He lowered his eyes and glowered at the ground, shuffling a toe.

"What!" Tuan cried. "Is a father's commandment not enough?"

"Nay," Alain said reluctantly. "I will obey."

"Yet I bethink me thou wilt forget, and seek to creep out to watch the battle,"

Tuan said, frowning.

Alain was silent.

"Therefore, I command thee—as thy liege!" Tuan said sternly. "Son or not, thou art my subject—and my vassal!"

Alain drew himself up smartly. "I am, Majesty!"

"Then thou wilt hearken to me, by thy vows as my vassal! Thou wilt stay in thy tent when battle rages! 'Tis thy duty to thy sovereign!"

Alain stared at him. Then he said, "An thy Majesty doth command it, I shall,"

and his face was full of devotion.

Tuan broke into a smile. "Stout lad! Come, then—for thou and I must hasten back to our army."

"Aye, my liege!" Alain came running, and jumped. Tuan caught his outstretched arm and swung him up behind, on his horse's rump. Alain threw an arm around his father's waist, and turned back to wave to the Gallowglasses.

"Again, I thank thee!" Tuan called back over his shoulder. "Now get thee home, young witchfolk!"

They rode off into the forest, and disappeared among the trees with Brom and the soldiers thronged around them.

Cordelia watched them go with a gleam in her eye.

"And what dostthou think, watching that handsome lad so shrewdly?"

Magnus teased. "Bethink thee, thou'rt five months older—he's too young for thee."

"Yet he'll not always be so," Cordelia pointed out. "And thou, great lummox of a brother, mayest mind thine own affairs!"

"Of which thou art one," Magnus said, grinning. "Come, sister—gather up thy babe of a brother, and follow our elf."

Cordelia smiled and caught Gregory by the hand. They all turned toward the southern trail, following a chastised, but very relieved, Puck.

Chapter 17

They meant to go straight home. They tried to go straight home. This time, they did everything they could to go straight home.

Could they help it if they were ambushed?

One minute they were walking down the path; the next, something huge and dark dropped over them with a roar.

"Geoffrey, defend!" Magnus cried, striking—out but the thing just flapped where he hit it.

"Have at thee, villain!" His brother threshed about, but the darkness tangled itself about him. Cordelia screamed, and Gregory bawled—and all of them fought to lift whatever the foul-smelling thing was, with their thoughts.

But nothing happened.

Outside, Fess's battle cry tore the air, underscored by the sound of meaty impacts. Something bellowed, and someone shrieked, then something big struck the ground with a metallic crash. Then the bellow sounded in full rage, and hoofbeats galloped away with a defiant, fading, whinnying scream.

"Praise Heaven!" Cordelia said. "My unicorn, at least, hath saved herself from whatever foul monsters have set upon us!"

"But Fess!" Gregory bleated. "What of gallant Fess?"

For a moment, they all listened frantically, searching for Fess's presence with their minds.

"He is disabled," Magnus said, and all of them felt terror seize them. What could be so mighty as to put the robot out of action so quickly?

There was one being who had done it before…

The huge voice roared with victory now, and something squeezed all around them, jamming the four of them up against each other. Then the dark foul-smelling thing yanked their feet out from under them and swung them high in the air, jumbling and knocking against one another, feet up, heads down. They couldn't see a thing, and they all screamed and yelled.

The roar turned into words. "We have them! And their guardian beast lies slain! We have them!"

"So I see," wheezed a crackling old voice, and the sound of it chilled the children. "Hold that sack tightly closed, Groghat! Let them not escape!"

"Nay, Lontar! Fear not—I'll not chance it!"

"But thou didst enchant him!" Cordelia cried to Magnus. "He cannot so much asthink of injuring us, or any folk, without pain!"

Lontar's voice gave a high, shrill laugh. "But I do not hurt thee, foolish child!

'Tis Groghat who doth so!"

"And do gladly, for children who cozened me and gave me pain," the giant grumbled. "Dothou prevent them from disappearing, Lontar!"

"Oh, the lass cannot disappear, at the least," a feminine voice said impatiently. "That power's proper only to warlocks."

"Indeed," Lontar's voice wheezed. "And hast thou not noticed, Phebe, that these lads can move objects by thinking at them?"

"Nay, I had not," Phebe answered, her tone surly. "Hold them fast, Lontar!"

"Oh, be easy in thine heart." Lontar cackled. "This spell is new, but 'tis mighty. They'll not be able to use any witch-power they own, the whiles I hold them with my mind. Yet be sure thou dost keep the lads in check, when we loose them in their dungeon."

"I'll answer for the two larger ones," Phebe said, with certainty. "Yet the smallest… I ken not. Even babes have never been proof against me, so long as they were male—yet this one scarcely doth notice."

"Well, between us three, I warrant we can contain them all," Lontar chortled.

"'Tis well we chanced upon one another. What we could not do singly, we may surely do together."

"I would we had done more with that horned horse," Phebe said bitterly.

"She hath gored mine hand to the bone! Aid me in winding this bandage, Lontar…

Ow!Pest upon her, that she would not let me approach!"

"Having certain powers doth preclude others," Lontar creaked. "Yet I will be pleased with those I do own, for they have brought mine enemies into my grasp.

Now these meddling babes shall be forever made still!"

A chill ran down Magnus's back.

'Tis the peasant wench, the sorcerer, and the giant, combined against us, Cordelia thought, terrified.Is't true what he doth say? Have we no powers left ?

We still can hear thoughts, at the least. Even Geoffrey was on the verge of panic.Yet for the rest of it…1 do seek, even now, to catch and hold this giant's foot with my mind —yet naught doth occur!

And I essay to disappear—most heartily, I assure thee! Gregory thought.Yet

'tis even as thou dost say; I bide !

Our thoughts do not move. Magnus fought hard against a rising panic.

Magnus—what shall we do? Cordelia's thoughts wailed.

Bide, and hope. And Magnus did—he hoped he sounded more confident than he felt.We've faced worse . It was a lie, but no one called him on it. Then inspiration struck, and he thought,Be mindful —the Puck is yet free!

By the time they came out of the trees, Gregory had wormed a hole in the side of the bag. "I see a tower," he reported.

"What is its aspect?" Magnus called.

'"'Tis overgrown with mosses and ivy, and is hung with rusty chains. Old horseshoes are secured over the doorways and windows, and there's a deal of rusty nails and broken sickles and such hung about it."

"Cold Iron." Magnus's heart sank. "'Tis proof 'gainst the Wee Folk; even Puck may not enter there."

"What will they do with us?" Cordelia moaned.

"This sack is heavy, even for a giant, when 'tis carried so far," Groghat grunted. "Wherefore do we take them to thine home, Lontar? Why not slay them where we found them?"

"What—only slay them, and leave them?" Lontar giggled. "Nay, foolish giant!

Wherefore ought we to waste them?"

"Waste them?" Phebe sounded uncertain suddenly. "Why, for what wouldst thou have them at home?"

"Why, for dinner!" Lontar's voice had a gloating sound that made the children shiver. "Hast thou never noticed, Phebe, that the youngest are the most tender? Nay, 'tis rarely that one hath opportunity for such!… Ahhh!" He shrieked.

"Eh-h-h-h, the pain! Yet my revenge upon them is worth it!"

Magnus felt his stomach sink. /never thought the old man so enjoyed hurting folk, that he would be willing to suffer such pain , he thought.

With the stab of pain past, Lontar began to boast. "Why, I mind me that I once cast a curse upon a wench who spurned me, so that, henceforth, she would seek to feed upon any who did thereafter seek to befriend her!"

'Tis even as we thought—'tis he did enchant old Phagia! Cordelia thought, horrified.

Then he hath the blood of many upon his head, already. Geoffrey felt anger rising. It helped hide the growing fear; he felt better.We need have no qualm at seeking our freedom by whatever means we may !

But Lontar heard their thoughts. "Indeed," he crowed. "And how shalt thou accomplish it?"

The dim light filtering through the sides of the hot, stuffy bag faded and was gone. "We have come into thy fortress," Groghat boomed. "Where shall we bind them?"

"Yonder," Lontar said.

Groghat muttered, and the children heard his feet gritting on stone, felt the bag jounce as he climbed stairs—and climbed, and climbed, and climbed…

Finally, rusty hinges groaned, and the bag shifted topsyturvy. Howling in fright, the children tumbled out. They remembered Papa's lessons and tucked in their chins, so that their heads were at least a little protected as they slammed into the stone floor. The sudden light seemed horribly bright after the darkness of the bag, and they squinted, looking about—to see the old wizard standing in the doorway cackling, with Phebe beside him, looking very somber now, and unsure. Groghat was there behind them, stooping to peer into the room.

Lontar had put on his wizard's robe—dark blue, soiled and greasy, but with the gold of the embroidered signs of the zodiac still gleaming through. His tall, pointed cap, with golden stars and crescent moons upon it, came up to Groghat's chest.

"I'll come for thee anon," Lontar crooned, "when I've heated my cauldron.

Enjoy what little time is left to thee whilst thou may. I have given thee my proudest room." He elbowed Phebe aside with a crow of triumph and slammed the door. A rusty bolt ground home.

The children turned to look at the "proudest room," and shuddered. The floor was carpeted in dust, the corners festooned with old cobwebs. The narrow windows let in only a little light, but enough to show piles of rotted cloth here and there. Cordelia took a stick and poked at one of the piles, then pulled back with a shudder. "'Tis rotted cloth—but in garments!"

"Grown-up's garments?" Gregory asked hopefully.

Cordelia shook her head. "Nay. Small garments—children's."

Magnus felt anger growing. He glared at the pitiful pile, then frowned at the thin rod in Cordelia's hand. "What manner of stick is that?… Why, 'tis a switch!"

Cordelia dropped it with a sound of disgust, and wiped her hand on her skirt.

"We should not have restored his heart," Geoffrey said darkly. "He deserved death."

"For once, I fear I must own that thou didst have the right of it," Magnus admitted. "Yet that's past and gone; what remains is our lives. How shall we break free from here, brother?"

His siblings looked up at him, startled at the notion of hope. Then they came alive. Geoffrey sprang to his feet and ran to the window. He jumped up, levering himself onto the sill. "'Tis a clear drop down, Magnus—naught to support a climb.

Eh, if we could fly, 'twould be easily done!" Experimentally, 'he thought of floating, pushing away against the floor—but he didn't even feel lighter.

Magnus shook his head. "Whatever manner of binding Lontar hath done on our powers, 'tis thorough. Can any of thee do aught?"

Cordelia cast about, and dashed over to a corner with a glad cry. She caught up an old stick, sweeping the cobwebs off it with distaste, and held it out flat in her hands. The straws had almost completely rotted away, but it was a broomstick. She closed her eyes, concentrating furiously— but the stick stayed obstinately still. She threw it from her in frustration. "It doth naught!"

"Nor can any of us," Magnus said glumly. "Alas! What shall we do?" He slumped down, sitting cross-legged, head bowed, dejected.

Geoffrey dashed to him, clasping his arm. "Do not dare to despair! Fight, brother! There must be a way to life!"

Gregory sniffled and burst into tears. Cordelia dashed to him and hugged him against her. He buried his head in her skirts, crying.

"Do thounot !" Geoffrey insisted. "Weeping avails us naught! Gregory,think

!"

"If only Vidor were here!" Gregory wailed. "He would know what to do! His magic's not like ours—it hath not our limits! It doth work by words and by symbols, not by thought only! Assuredly, Vidor would know how to defeat this vile sorcerer!"

Magnus's head came up. "What dost thou say?"

"He said Vidor would know!" Cordelia snapped, glaring at Magnus.

"Aye, I did hear him!" Magnus ran to his little brother, whirling him about and grasping his shoulders. "Gregory, think! Our other powers have been bound, but not our thought-hearing! Canst thou make thy Vidor to hear thee?"

Gregory looked up, wide-eyed, sniffling. "Why, mayhap I can—yet what good…" Then his face lit; he smiled. "Aye, certes! He may be able to tell us what magic will defeat this vile Lontar!"

Cordelia beamed at Magnus—but for cheering up Gregory, not for saving them.

Gregory plumped down cross-legged, back ramrod-straight, and closed his eyes.

His brothers and sister watched him in silence. Geoffrey looked fair to bursting, but he kept silent.

Finally Gregory opened his eyes. "Vidor saith that he is too little to attempt any such battle—and that his Papa cannot aid, because he can only reach our world through our Papa's mind."

"And he is not here." Magnus scowled in fury. "Confound! Howmay they aid?"

"Vidor," Gregory said, "hath an older brother."

They were all silent, staring.

"How much older?" Magnus asked finally.

"Seven years. He's of an age with thee, Magnus."

Big brother knelt there, staring at him.

""'Tis our one chance, my sib," Geoffrey said, his voice low. "Thou must needs open thy mind to this…" He turned to Gregory. "What is his name?"

"Albertus," Gregory answered.

"…this Albertus." Geoffrey turned back to Magnus. "Hast thou the courage?"

Magnus swung about at him, glaring. "Mind thy manners, bairn! Still thyself, and behold!" He dropped down beside Gregory, cross-legged, back straight, imitating his little brother. "Is it thus?"

"Aye," Gregory agreed eagerly. "Now close thine eyes…" He closed his own. "Wait… I've told Vidor, he doth summon Albertus… Attend…"

They waited—and waited. Cordelia bit back the urge to scream with impatience.

"Albertus comes," Gregory said finally. "Vidor doth summon his father, also

… Ah, we've good fortune! His father's not far distant! Lord Kern comes…

Albertus is nearly here! Now, Magnus, close thine eyes!"i

"I have already," Big Brother said impatiently. "What now, lad?"

"Open thy mind… widely… Let all thy body and mind go loose… Nay, Magnus, I know 'tis most difficult, but thou must needs forget what doth hap, and let thy mind drift… Now… follow me. Let thy mind blow where mine doth…"

They were silent, eyes closed. Cordelia and Geoffrey held their breaths.

They heard footsteps on the stairs.

Cordelia opened her mouth to scream, but Geoffrey clapped a hand over it.

She clenched her fists, fighting hard to keep silent, to keep from breaking her brothers' concentration.

"Now, 'tis time!" Lontar called from the other side of the door.

"I like this not," said Phebe's voice.

"Thou wilt be party to it, or thou shalt join with them! Groghat, seize her!…

Aieee! Mine head! The pain… Nay! Mind me not—but seize her! Yüü!"

There were sounds of a struggle; Phebe screamed.

"Ah, now," Lontar panted, "thou'rt decided. 'Tis well. One way or another, lass, thou shalt join us for dinner…"

The key groaned in the lock.

Geoffrey whirled, catching up the broomstick and leaping to his feet, stick raised to guard, jumping in front of his sister.

"I have him, Father," Magnus said suddenly. His voice sounded different, somehow—a little deeper, a little more resonant. "His mind doth meld with mine."

The door groaned open. Lontar stepped into the room, giggling; spittle drooled from his lip, and his eyes were wild.

Gregory opened his eyes, turned to look, and grasped Magnus's hand. "Lend him thine eyes, brother!"

"What! Wilt thou fight me, then?" Lontar pointed at Geoffrey, cackling.

"Good, good! Exercise doth make a good appetite! Yet I think thou art too tough and stringy—I'll start with another!" He stepped forward, cackling and reaching out toward Cordelia. "Aieee!" His head whipsnapped at the sudden pain, but he squinted against it and came on toward her in spite of it.

Magnus turned slowly, opening his eyes and frowning. He saw Lontar and stretched out his arm, forefinger pointing.

"Ah! The biggest doth see me, then!" Lontar crowed. "Art ready to bathe, lad? The water is hot, and oiled with onions and carrots! Yet thou, too, art like to be tough; we'll start with the smallest! Yi-eeee!" He winced at the pain, but turned toward Gregory anyway.

A bolt of pure energy spat from Magnus's finger with a sound like a gunshot.

It struck Lontar square in the chest. The old sorcerer screamed once, falling backward. His whole body heaved; then he lay still.

Phebe and Groghat stared, horrified.

Geoffrey disappeared with a thunder-crack.

Groghat came to his senses, knocked Phebe aside, and charged into the room, roaring.

Cordelia narrowed her eyes, glaring at him. A horde of old nails and scrap iron shot in through the window and crashed into Groghat's face. He howled, batting the stuff aside—but thunder cracked, and Geoffrey appeared on his shoulders. He jammed the broomstick across Groghat's throat and hauled back.

The giant made a gargling sound, eyes bulging, and grasped at the stick—but as he did, his feet shot out from under him, and he slammed down onto the floor with a crash that shook the whole chamber. A lump of old iron slammed into his temple, and he collapsed, unconscious.

Geoffrey turned on Phebe, his eyes narrowed.

She shrank back against the wall, horrified—then remembered herself. She managed a tremulous smile, and stepped away from the wall, eyelids drooping.

"Nay, then! Hast thou come for me, young man?"

A wave of attraction seemed to roll out from her, fascinating, binding.

Geoffrey hesitated.

"Have at thee, hag!" Cordelia screamed, and a length of old chain lashed Phebe, wrapping itself around her throat. She gave a horrified scream that choked off into a gurgle—and the broomstick wrenched itself out of Geoffrey's hands to crash into her skull. Her eyes rolled up, and she folded.

Geoffrey drew a long, shuddering breath. "Sister—I thank thee! Remember it well, for I'll say it but rarely."

"'Tis wondrous as 'tis," she returned, and stepped over to Groghat. "Doth he truly sleep?"

Geoffrey stepped over with her, peering down. "Aye, well and soundly. Aid me, sister—roll him over."

Together, frowning, they stared at the giant. His body shook, heaved—and pitched over. "One apiece," Cordelia said tightly, and the giant's hands yanked up behind his back. A length of old chain shot out and whipped about his wrists; then Cordelia glared at two links. They glowed cherry-red, then yellow—then darkened again.

"Well welded," Geoffrey approved. " 'Twas on the outside links, and 'twas so quickly done that he's not even burned."

"More's the pity," Magnus grunted.

They spun about, surprised. "Eh!" Geoffrey said. "Thou art come back to us, art thou?"

"Aye," his brother said, "and I gave Lord Kern great thanks for the power he lent us, and Albertus thanks for conducting it to me."

"And great thanks to Vidor," Gregory piped, "for bethinking him that his elder brother might be able to blend his mind with thine, and for summoning him."

"Aye. I thanked him, too." Magnus looked down at Gregory. "If ever they need our aid, lad, we must turn to them instantly."

"Aye, without fail," Gregory agreed. "Yet, Magnus, their Papa did say he was glad of the chance to repay our Papa for his good aid."

"'Tis not a balance of good deeds, but a chain," Magnus averred. He turned to his brother and sister, saw the unconscious bodies, and grunted, "Thou hast worked well, here."

"We had need to find summat with which to pass the time, while certain parties were abstracted," Geoffrey said, trying for nonchalance.

"Whiles we, of course, did play," Magnus responded. He rose, with difficulty. "Eh! But my joints ache!" He stepped over to Lontar and knelt beside him, placing a hand on the vein in his neck.

"Thou'lt not start his heart again!" Geoffrey protested.

"Nay." Magnus drew back his hand in disgust. "There's no need."

"He yetlives ?" Geoffrey cried in dismay.

"And he calledthee tough and stringy," Cordelia snorted.

Geoffrey looked about at the three, at a loss for once. "What… what are we todo with them?"

The brothers and sister exchanged a blank look.

"We cannot leave them to take up their evil again," Cordelia said.

"Aye, but 'tis not for us to say they must die, neither," Magnus answered.

They stared at one another in silence.

Then Geoffrey crowed, "I have it! We shall let Mama and Papa decide!"

"Oh, excellent, brother," Magnus scoffed, "most excellent! Aye, we'll bid Mama and Papa come here in judgment—as soon as we find them!"

"Oh, nay! We know they'll come home, soon or late—so we'll take these vile villains there, to await them!"

Cordelia and Magnus stared at him, floored by the sheer audacity of the plan.

Then Cordelia giggled.

Magnus grinned. "Wherefore not? 'Twill serve them well for going adventuring without us! Come, brother, let's bind them!"

"Aye," Geoffrey agreed, picking up another length of rusty chain. "And who knows? Mayhap Lontar will die on the way!"

Puck and Kelly stared, unbelieving, as the children came out of the doorway at the base of the tower. Then Puck turned to Summer. "To the King, straight away!

Tell him they are safe, that he need not come! Scat!"

Summer flew off, casting an indignant look backward at him.

It was wasted; Puck and Kelly were already shooting over the floor of the clearing, straight toward the children.

"Magnus! Cordelia! Geoffrey! Gregory! By Oak, Ash and Thorn! Ye are safe!"

Cordelia managed a smile. "Aye, praise all saints!"

"We could not come to thine aid, for there was so great a deal of Cold Iron hung about that tower!"

"That foul, fell felon," Kelly howled, "who's so craven that he must needs drape his house in all that we dread! 'Tis naught but what ye should look for, from such vile fellows as…"

He broke off, staring at the procession of unconscious bodies that floated out of the tower behind the children.

"Eh!" Puck gasped. "How hast thou takenthese trussed-up fowls?"

"With great difficulty," Magnus assured him, "and only with the aid of some folk who were not there."

"Not there? How is this?" Puck's gaze sharpened with keen suspicion as he looked up at Magnus. Then he stared. "Lad! Thine hair!"

"What of it?" Magnus put a hand to his head, suddenly self-conscious. "'Tis yet there!"

But his brothers and Cordelia were staring, too. "We had not noticed, in all the turmoil," she said, "yet now…"

"Whatis it?"

"I ha' known thee since before thou wast born," Puck avowed, "and ever was thine hair as golden as the crown of a king!"

"Wilt thou nottell me?" Magnus exploded.

"Gregory," Cordelia said, "thy friend Vidor—what color is the hair of his older brother?"

Magnus's eyes widened as he began to suspect.

Gregory looked up and blinked. "Black is the color of Albertus's hair, 'Delia."

"And of what hue is mine?" Magnus asked into the sudden silence.

"Black as jet," Cordelia whispered.

"Like the wings of a raven," Puck agreed.

Chapter 18

It was an oddly-assorted parade that threaded its way through the dappled shadows of the late-afternoon forest—three Gal-lowglass boys of diminishing sizes, followed by Fess with a witch and a sorcerer slung over his back, and an improvised horse collar around his neck and shoulders, from which two ropes stretched back to Groghat's ankles. Cordelia rode behind the giant on her unicorn, frowning at Groghat as she concentrated on keeping his huge mass just high enough so that he didn't drag on the ground. She didn't worry too much about brambles, though.

The shadows were lengthening as they came out of the forest and saw their home, serene and warm with late afternoon sun, nestling under the huge oak against the hillside.

" 'Tis yet there!" Cordelia breathed.

"Praise Heaven," Magnus agreed.

But Kelly suddenly struck his forehead with the heel of his hand. "Oy vay!

How could I have forgotten?"

"How couldst thou indeed?" Puck asked. "Nay, elf, an thou hast any cause at all to be from us…"

"What is it, then?" Cordelia turned to him.

"The fairies' shoes! I had promised two flower-folk to have new slippers for them, for treading of the elfin ring this night! Nay, I must be off to my bench and last!"

"Do not dare!" Puck said, but Kelly was already darting off through the greenwood, crying, "Farewell!"

"He could not, after all, disappoint the two fairies." Cordelia scowled at Puck. "Thou art but mean, Robin!"

"I mean a great deal indeed." Puck glared after the fleeing elf. "Nay, an I catch that son of Erin andIsrael again…"

"Thou must not injure one who hath shared our trials," Gregory protested.

"Aye, all but the final one."

"What dost thou speak of?" Magnus questioned.

"'Tis my concern, not thine—and mine alone, now." Puck set his face toward the children's house, looking grim. "Come, children. At last, I believe I have some chance of bringing thee safe to home."

The boys yelped with joy and darted off across the meadow. Fess and Cordelia followed a bit more slowly with the captives, Groghat floating between them, bumping in breezes.

As they came near the door, Geoffrey looked back to check on his spoils of war and frowned. "They do begin to struggle again, Magnus."

Groghat and Phebe were thrashing about against their ropes, and Lontar had opened his eyes, squinting against the pain in his chest.

"'Twill be merciful to restore them to sleep," Cordelia pointed out.

"Aye, and more safe." Magnus stepped up beside Lontar, glaring down at him. Cordelia let Groghat settle to the ground and rode over to stare at Phebe, and Geoffrey and Gregory took her place near Groghat. They all concentrated, staring at their captives. The thrashing dwindled, then stilled, and the prisoners' eyes closed again.

The Gallowglasses breathed a sigh of relief and turned back to the door.

Cordelia paused. "Where may we put them?"

"Only the parlor is large enough." Magnus rubbed his chin.

Geoffrey clapped his hands. "What could be easier? We'll but clear the table and chairs aside!"

"Mayhap 'tis not the best…" Puck began, but the children had already darted in. He sighed and followed, hearing the clatter of furniture moving.

They floated them in by size—Phebe first, then Lontar. Fess lifted his head as the sorcerer's weight came off his back, saying, "Children, your parents might not wish…"

"What else might we do with them?" Cordelia called over her shoulder as the old man's feet disappeared into the parlor.

"We might build a shelter," Fess suggested as they came back out.

Magnus shook his head as he untied Groghat's tow-ropes from the jury-rigged collar. " 'Twould have to be a complete cabin to protect them enough from wind, rain, and chill, Fess. Thou wouldst not have us let them catch their deaths, wouldst thou?"

'"'Tis a consummation devoutly to be wished," Puck answered, eyes flashing as he watched the giant float into the house.

"Thou art still thirsty for blood, Robin," Cordelia sighed as she passed through the door.

"And what if I am?" the elf growled to himself. "Better their blood than thine, sweet chucks! Sayest thou not so, Walking Iron?"

"In some measure," Fess agreed. "But I must admit, I'm glad to see so much of compassion in them."

Magnus and Cordelia came back out. The boy caught Fess's bridle and led him away toward his stable at the back of the house. "Come now, faithful one! It hath been a long journey. Warm housen and oil for thee now."

"The rest will be appreciated," Fess sighed. "I have much new data to integrate…"

They disappeared around the corner of the house. Cordelia turned to her unicorn, and Puck suddenly found something very interesting to study in the patterns of the milkweed that had sprouted by the front door.

"I must bid thee farewell for now, Beauteous One," Cordelia explained, "for my mother would be even more wroth, did she find thee within doors! And thy quest is done now, is't not?"

The unicorn nodded, pawing the turf.

"But oh! Thou wilt not leave me forever, wilt thou?" Cordelia caught the unicorn's head between her palms, gazing up into her eyes. "I shall be so lonely without thee—and shall be forlorn, an I thought thou wert never to see me more!

Thou wilt not leave me lorn, wilt thou?"

The unicorn shook her head, and stepped forward to nuzzle her face and butt her velvet nose against Cordelia's chest.

"Aye, thou art still my dear one," Cordelia breathed. "Fare-thee-well, then, till I do see thee again!"

The unicorn stepped back and tossed her head as she turned, cantering away toward the woodland. Just short of the verge, she reared, turning back, and pawed the air, looking directly into Cordelia's eyes; then she turned toward the woodland, her forehooves struck the carpet of dry leaves, and she trotted in among the trees, glimmering in the twilight, and faded from view.

Cordelia stood gazing after the unicorn with tears in her eyes. "She will not forsake me, will she?"

"Not so long as thou dost not wish her to," Puck said softly.

"Oh! How could I ever wish her to!"

"Thou wouldst not," Puck agreed. "Yet the day may come when thou dost crave some other being with greater yearning."

Cordelia shook her head with passion. "Nay, never!"

"Mayhap," Puck sighed, "yet mayhap also… Well! 'Mayhap,' and

'mayhap!'Thy world could drown in so many 'mayhaps,' could it not? And thou wouldst not haply be happy thereby. Nay, come away, child! Thou wilt see thy unicorn many times again, I trow, for a span of years more, belike! Nay, come away

—I doubt me not an thy brothers have need of thine aid."

He turned away toward the doorway, looking up at her expectantly.

Cordelia smiled down at him through her tears, dried her eyes, and went in.

She found the three captives laid out on the floor by the fireplace and her brothers staring at one another blankly.

"Why dost thou stand idle?" Cordelia demanded. "Has the forest taken thy wits, that thou no longer knowest what to do within doors?"

" 'Tis not even that," Magnus protested. "Nay, rather—'tis the management of captives that doth concern me. We dare not chance their awakening."

"There's truth in that," Cordelia admitted, "and who doth know how long

'twill be ere Mama and Papa return?"

"The more reason to be sure of them, then." Geoffrey darted over to the corner, caught up Papa's walking stick, and stalked over to Groghat, standing beside his head, glowering down. "If he doth flutter an eyelid…"

"Thou'lt use thy 'sleep spell,' not thy cudgel," Magnus directed. "'Tis safer, and more sure. And I will stand guard over the sorcerer; he might yet give us a bad turn or two." He stepped over beside Lontar.

"Thou must needs sleep, soon or late," Gregory pointed out.

Magnus frowned. "'Tis true. Let us bind them more securely. Geoffrey, dost thou know that coil of rope Papa doth keep in the shed?"

Geoffrey nodded and disappeared with a bang. Air boomed out a moment later, and he was back, a huge coil of rope over his shoulder. He dumped it on the floor and straightened, exhaling. " 'Tisheavy !"

"Aye," Magnus replied. "Thy pardon; I should have gone."

"Oh, nay!" Geoffrey said, irked. "Dost thou think me a baby?"

"Never, brother," Magnus assured him. "Now, then—let us do the giant first, whilst we're fresh. Gregory, thou must bind the knots. Geoffrey and Cordelia, now

—UP!"

They all scowled in fierce concentration. Slowly, Groghat rose three feet off the floor The top end of the rope darted toward him like a striking Snake, whipped about his body, and tied itself in a square knot.

'Turn, now," Magnus grated.

All three older children tensed.

Slowly, Groghat began to turn, then faster and faster, like a table leg on a lathe.

Gregory frowned at the rope, guiding it as it laid itself in a neat coil all along Groghat's body. When it reached his ankles, he stopped turning, and the rope whipped itself into another knot.

"Now, down," Magnus directed.

The giant's body lowered itself to the floor again.

Cordelia, Geoffrey, and Magnus all heaved a sigh of relief. Geoffrey stepped in to cut the rope with his knife, and stepped back. Then Magnus said, "Now the sorcerer."

They didn't even scowl; Lontar's scrawny body floated up off the floor easily; the rope tied itself; Lontar began to revolve.

When all three lay cocooned neatly side by side, Magnus and Geoffrey took up their stations again.

"Thou still must needs sleep," Gregory repeated.

"When we do, elves may stand guard; there will be time for us to waken, now that these three are so securely bound," Magnus explained. "They shall call us at the slightest sign of wake fulness. Will they not, Robin?"

"What… ?" Puck looked up from chewing his fingernails. "Oh, aye! Be assured, the Wee Folk will be most eager to aid thee in keeping these three from waking in the High Warlock's house! 'Tis bad enough as 'tis," he muttered, turning back to gaze into the cold hearth, chafing his hands.

Cordelia frowned. "What doth trouble thee, Robin?"

"Naught that need worry thee," the elf answered. " 'Tis for myself to answer, children. Do thou not be concerned."

Cordelia still frowned but, unable to figure out what Puck was talking about, shrugged and went to the shelves to take up her embroidery. "Well then, sin that it may be some hours or, nay, even days yet, I will seek to pass the time." And she went to sit down by Phebe's feet, keeping an eye on the milkmaid and plying her needle, singing happily.

For himself, Gregory drifted up to the mantelpiece and sat there cross-legged, tailor-fashion, back straight, hands in his lap, gazing down at his brothers and sister fondly, smiling.

Puck looked up at him with a grimace, knowing Gregory's mother had forbidden the mantelpiece, claiming that if it had been intended for sitting on, his father would have carved a chair in it. The High Warlock had instantly volunteered to start whittling, but his wife had vetoed it with a glare and a remark about soot on boys' clothes. Her husband had pointed out that a little soot probably wouldn't make much difference, but mother had been firm, and the mantel had remained a forbidden zone. Puck remembered that now, and started to say something, but caught himself and heaved a sigh. What was one peccadillo more or less? He went back to a glum contemplation of his fate.

Around them, the room darkened into evening. Finally, with an impatient snap of the fingers, Puck summoned some brownies who skipped to light the fire and a few lamps, then disappeared back into their crannies.

Magnus and Geoffrey each sent their prisoners back into sleep again. Phebe began to twitch, and Cordelia looked up at her, briefly. The woman went back to sleep.

Which is how matters stood when the door opened and the High Warlock and his wife came in, with glad cries upon their lips.

The glad cries froze as they saw the scene before them.

Puck took one look at their faces, moaned, and shot up the chimney with a wail of despair.

The children looked at one another wide-eyed, suddenly aware that their behavior might have been a little less than ideal.

Then Mama closed her mouth, and took a deep breath.

But Papa beat her to it. "And just what do you thinkyou've been doing?"

Gregory's chin began to quiver. "We… we are sorry…"

"We will not do it again," Cordelia promised with tears in her eyes.

"We did not mean to…" Magnus explained, with trepidation.

But.Geoffrey squared his shoulders in defiance and stated, "Thou didst not say we couldn't !"