The Dragon's Tomb

Chapter X

Not even the dreary, cloud-covered sky could dampen the mood of Squire Menhir as she approached the Castle of the Three Suns, Keeping her victorious smile tightly concealed, Johauna rode behind the young knight who had met them on the approach. She watched the gentle bobbing of the blue plume on his helmet as the knight’s stallion trotted toward the gate. Noting his arched back and broad shoulders, Johauna tried to sit as straight on Carsig as he sat on his horse.

“You’re as bad as Flinn,” Braddoc hissed tersely over her shoulder.

Jo glanced back at the dwarven warrior, riding stern and disgruntled astride his pony. “As good as Flinn, you mean,” she snapped with an indignant smile. As she did so, she caught a glimpse of the pathetic prisoner in the queue behind Braddoc. The man, slumped, shackled atop one of the pack mules. Sir Brisbois. He still holds his title, but not for long, Jo told herself. Vengeance tasted sweet. The very day after Sir Graybow had sent her out to retrieve Brisbois, she returned, her mission complete, her quarry broken and humbled—ready to talk. She would do the same to Verdilith, and Teryl Auroch. The spirit of Flinn would have its vengeance.

The knight at the head of the procession saluted the gate guards and continued on into the main entrance. Jo reined Carsig in for a moment, noting only then that she had been following the knight too closely. It was the excitement of the capture, she told herself, urging Carsig forward.

As the party passed through the gates, entering the slate-paved marketplace, the bustling crowds drew back to make room for them.

“Look! It’s Brisbois, the traitor!” a gray-haired beggar man said.

The cry drew the attention of a fabric merchant nearby, who strayed, incredulous, from his cart. “Never thought I’d see him rounded up!”

“The proud boy’s been humbled!” called a wiry cobbler from a small shop along the wall.

A cluster of peasant washerwomen drifted steadily toward the procession, whistling and whooping as they came.

The knight at the head of the parade tightened his hold on the reins of his steed, who was stamping nervously as the crowd converged.

“Look who done it, too!” the cobbler shouted, rushing forward now. “It’s Flinn’s girl!”

Jo reddened visibly at the remark, uncertain whether to be flattered or angered. But one of the washerwomen answered for her by slapping the cobbler in the face with a wet rag. “She’s not Flinn’s girl! She’s her own girl!”

“She’s Squire Menhir,” Braddoc supplied with a reluctant cough. Jo flashed him a glance, but the dwarf merely nodded her direction.

The procession had slowed, almost halting in the face of the growing mob. A brace of children, running from a crowded corner of the market, came stomping up, their young voices raised in shouts.

“Brisbois the Bungler! Brisbois the Boor!”

Jo laughed aloud and wondered if the children knew how similar their taunts were to those used against Flinn. Over the cries of the children she could hear a flurry of other voices: “Where did you find him?” “How’d he get wounded?” “Who’s the dwarf?” “Tell us what happened.” “Did he put up a fight?”

The knot of folk around her tightened, pressing against her legs and her mount. Noting Carsig’s uneasiness, Jo signaled to the knight ahead of her. He pivoted his steed about with some difficulty in the crowd and shouted, “Back. Let us through to the donjon!”

“Tell us the story!” a few voices demanded of Jo, ignoring the knight’s order. Their calls touched off other shouts from the crowd, which drowned out the knight’s next commands.

Jo bit her lip, watching the young, red-faced knight try hopelessly to move the crowd. When she saw he was getting nowhere, Jo turned sheepishly toward Braddoc. The dwarf merely shrugged and mouthed the words, “You’re the storyteller.”

Jo nodded grimly and scanned the sea of faces. Their voices raised a din that must have reached to the donjon itself. They wanted her to tell them what had happened; they wanted her to tell the story of Brisbois’s capture. But she’d never told a story to so many people before—for that matter, she’d never told a story that wasn’t about Flinn. Her tongue felt like a ball of lead in her mouth, and the events seemed to jumble in her head.

Carsig nickered and took a gentle sidestep, and Jo saw that Braddoc’s pony had nudged the horse. The dwarf’s face was impassive, but he nodded minutely in Jo’s direction. “Go on,” he mouthed.

Jo nodded back, a nervous smile on her lips. She swallowed hard and lifted her hands in a gesture to quiet the crowd. “It’s really not much of a story,” she shouted out as the clamor died down.

“Tell it anyway!” the cobbler cried.

Jo bit her lip; she didn’t know how to begin the telling. “I—ah …” she started, then flushed: she’d forgotten to adopt her storytelling tone. Lowering her voice and taking a deep breath, she said, “Some days ago, the honorable Sir Lile Graybow, castellan of this mighty fortress, learned the whereabouts of the ignoble rapscallion, the defamed Sir Brisbois.” Jo paused, her heart in her throat. The crowd seemed to have appreciated the phrase ignoble rapscallion, responding with a smattering of boos and hisses. And her emphasis on the knight’s undeserved title garnered even more jeers.

It was a good crowd.

Warming to the task, Jo continued. “Sir Brisbois, I tell you—this worm of a knight, this knight of the wyrm Verdilith—” more hisses “—was the man who falsely accused Flinn the Mighty. Sir Brisbois was the man who willingly brought the glory of Flinn and of Flinn’s sword Wyrmblight to an end. And though Flinn forgave the rapacious monster—though he spared the man’s life and made him bondsman—Sir Brisbois repaid this kindness with desertion and treachery.”

In the chorus of disapproval that followed, the townsfolk around Brisbois’s mule began prodding the pathetic figure with their fingers. The knight didn’t respond, except with an angry, bloodshot glare.

“So the noble Sir Graybow decided that Brisbois must be captured and tried. Being the one-time mentor of Flinn the Mighty, Sir Graybow dispatched Flinn’s former squire and his long-time friend to hunt down the vile man, to bring him back to the castle so that all the folk of Penhaligon might have vengeance for their fallen hero.”

“We were supposed to retrieve him for questioning,” Braddoc corrected loudly, breaking into Jo’s account. “That’s the story. Now, in the name of the baroness, let us through.”

“Quiet,” called someone from the crowd. “Let the squire finish!”

Jo, glaring hotly at her companion, shouted out, “We journeyed across the rugged Southern Wulfholdes unto Castle Kelvin, a pig sty of a place beside the gleaming towers of Penhaligon.” The crowd responded with cheers and whistles. “There, we found the man fully entrenched in his element—floundering about in the mud of a gutter, beside a vat of rotting animal parts, and surrounded by a trio of grimy thugs.”

“Did the thugs give you trouble, squire?” called out the cobbler excitedly.

“Not with that sword of hers,” the washerwoman interjected, playfully flipping her rag in the cobbler’s face.

“In fact, the thugs were no problem at all,” Jo answered, almost laughing. “They were doing our work for us. They’d been beating up the infamous Sir Brisbois for some moments before we arrived.”

The crowd let out a whoop of surprise, and some of the listeners began to clap.

“You didn’t get to lay a hand on him?”

“Of course I did,” Jo responded with mock indignation. She raised her hands before her and made a separate sweeping motion with each. “I slapped him first with the right, and then with the left!”

Amid the gales of laughter, a blacksmith bellowed out, “What then?”

“Then my level-headed companion—” Jo shot Braddoc a surly glare “—advised me against any further retribution against the filthy cur.” She consciously deepened her voice again and said, “Though Squire Menhir’s fists had not yet wrought their full vengeance upon the evil knight, though she was driven in that moment to unmake Sir Brisbois with the very blade he had darkened by his evil—” Jo dramatically seized the hilt of Wyrmblight and pulled it with a crackling pop from the shoulder harness. She held it up, cold and brilliant in the silver sky “—Wyrmblight, sword of Flinn the Mighty, nemesis of Verdilith the Great Green—though the very Immortals seemed to be crying out to the squire to wipe this wretched filth from the face of the world, the dwarf stayed her hand. Yes, he stayed her hand, though every impulse told her to slay him!”

A rumbling commotion had begun behind Jo, and as she looked over to see its cause, the crowd shifted, and a stream of villagers pressed toward her. Shouts broke out in the crowd, redoubling into a roaring tumult. Jo’s eyes went wide as she saw that Brisbois was held in the hands of the throng. They had dragged him from the mule, kicking and bellowing—dragged him through the churning crowd. Only as they reached the side of Jo’s horse could she discern what they were shouting.

“Kill him now!” they cried. “Kill him now!” Wyrmblight, still raised in the raking wind, seemed to tremble with anticipation in Jo’s hands as the people lifted Brisbois up toward her. The gem in her belt-pouch was hot, as though aflame, and a small voice in the back of her skull seemed to say Kill the traitor, Jo. Kill him as you have wanted to these many months. It was not the sword speaking, she knew, but the vengeance sounded sweet indeed.

“Kill him now! Kill him now.”

Jo’s grip on the sword faltered, and the blade fell toward the shackled form. A hand, strong as iron, clamped onto her fist and raised the sword before it struck home. Wideeyed, Jo blanched as she saw Sir Graybow’s granite features next to hers. He sat on horseback beside her, having pushed his way to her through the mob. His very presence quieted the crowd.

“That, my dear,” he said, his voice devoid of warmth, “is enough of that.”

Johauna, Braddoc, and Graybow hurried down the long halls of the Castle of the Three Suns, escorting Brisbois among them. The two guards who had met the trio at the gate followed them, making sure Brisbois would have no opportunity to escape. Graybow had not said another word to Jo from the time they had cleared the mob, and Jo felt chagrined by his silence. She wasn’t going to kill Brisbois, she told herself, it was just a story that had gotten out of hand. Jo winced as a slight misstep jarred her bruised rib, despite the tight wrap Braddoc had applied to it. And her injuries were nothing next to Brisbois’s. The day in the saddle had obviously aggravated the knight’s wounds. His face was a mixture of purple bruises and pale fatigue, and he clenched his teeth against the pain. Brisbois glanced back balefully at Jo, then fixed his eyes once more on the hallway.

As they rapidly made their way through the corridors, Jo saw that many of the magical lanterns still hadn’t been repaired. She wondered how Arteris was handling the delinquent mages. The scattered torchlight lent an eerie look to some of the longer halls and in some areas the smoke collected and stung Jo’s eyes and nose. This was not the same glowing castle she and Flinn had entered some months before.

Two guards stood outside the meeting room entrance. One turned and threw open the doors as Jo and Braddoc approached. The guard announced in a clear, strong voice, “Your Ladyship, Castellan Graybow escorts Squire Menhir, Master Briarblood, and Sir Brisbois to your council chambers.” The guard bowed and stepped aside.

Graybow, Jo, Braddoc, Brisbois, and the two guards behind them entered the room. The entire council was assembled, and the visitors’ entrance had apparently interrupted some meeting. Jo noticed that three of the castle’s four magicians were also in the room, sitting before the council members as if to give a report.

The chamber’s heavy doors closed with a bang. Jo and Braddoc stepped forward, Brisbois reluctantly doing the same. The two guards took up positions behind the knight.

The mages and all fifteen members of the council turned to face Jo. Baroness Penhaligon rose and demanded, “Your report, Squire Menhir!”

“Master Briarblood and I intended to journey to the village of Rifllian, where we had been told Master Brisbois was hiding,” Jo began stiffly, trying to be succinct. Still embarrassed that her overblown account had gone awry, Jo wanted to avoid a rambling report. “We stopped in Kelvin at the end of a day’s ride. While there, we came across Master Brisbois being beaten by three thugs—”

“You and Master Briarblood are not responsible for the knight’s condition?” Sir Graybow broke in.

“No, sir,” Jo said quickly. She saw the castellan’s little nod of relief.

“Continue, Squire Menhir,” Arteris said. She took her seat at the table.

“We rescued Master Brisbois from the thugs; we killed two, but the third escaped.” Jo turned to look at Brisbois, but the knight refused to meet her gaze. “Sir Brisbois claims to have been made a pawn, kidnapped by Teryl Auroch. He was given a note, which I am afraid I no longer have in my possession. Master Briarblood will confirm that the note bore the sigil of Auroch.”

“Is this true, Master Briarblood?” Sir Graybow inquired.

The dwarf nodded. “Sir Brisbois says it was the mage’s sigil—a curved line, like the horns of a bull.”

“That is the sigil,” the castellan replied. “We will accept this by the honor of your people.” A nodded again, a slight smile on his lips.

Jo continued: “The note told Master Brisbois to meet the mage at a certain time and place—”

“A time and place in which you discovered I was being beaten to death,” Brisbois interrupted harshly.

Arteris pounded her fist against the table. “Quiet, Master Brisbois! You will have your say. This is a court of honor—despite those who still pretend to possess it.” Arteris pointedly eyed the stained midnight-blue tunic Brisbois still wore. “Continue, Squire Menhir,” the baroness said.

“It is true that we found Master Brisbois at the time and place indicated on the note,” Jo said. “And it is true that we saw no sign of Auroch. Master Brisbois says he has no love for Teryl Auroch—”

“We will let the man speak for himself, Squire Menhir,” Arteris interrupted testily. “Continue with what you know to be true.”

Johauna nodded. “We returned to our inn, tended to Master Brisbois’s wounds, and rode out this morning.”

Sir Graybow glanced at Brisbois and said, “Did Master Brisbois give you any indication that he did not want to return to the Castle of the Three Suns? Did he try to escape last night or today?”

Jo did not want to answer the question: she knew it would lend credence to Brisbois’s claim of his hatred of Auroch. She wanted Brisbois punished at any cost, but knew that she must answer truthfully.

“No, Sir Graybow, Master Brisbois did not resist us in any way,” Jo hesitated. She was about to add, “But he was in no condition to do so,” but Sir Graybow held up his hand for silence.

“Thank you, Squire Menhir” the castellan said. He gave Jo a warning glance, and suddenly Jo was glad she hadn’t made the petty qualifier to her statement.

Sir Graybow nodded to one of the guards, who left for a moment to bring in three extra chairs. “Please take a seat, Squire Menhir and Master Briarblood,” the castellan said gruffly. “I’m sure sitting is the last thing you want to do after a day in the saddle, but perhaps you can rest a bit while we finish today’s proceedings.”

Jo sat gratefully, taking care to position Wyrmblight between two of the chairs. Beside her, Braddoc sat, too. He gave a tiny sigh of relief that only Jo heard. She smiled inwardly.

Silence fell in the room as everyone waited for Arteris to speak. She folded her hands on the table before her and fixed Brisbois with her agate-brown eyes. They were hard and stony and inflexible, without an ounce of mercy in them. Sir Graybow had told Jo that the baroness was growing more and more like old Baron Arturus every day, and her present mood seemed to support the claim.

“Do you know why we sent Squire Menhir and Master Briarblood after you, Master Brisbois?” Arteris asked calmly.

Brisbois was caught off guard. “Ex-excuse me, Your Ladyship?” he asked.

“Do you know why you were brought here?”

Brisbois’s puffy face took on an impassive cast. “No, Your Ladyship, I do not ” Brisbois obviously could not meet the woman’s stony gaze.

“Then let me inform you,” Arteris said graciously. “You are here because it is believed by our court mages that Teryl Auroch has destroyed the magic in the Castle of the Three Suns ”

“Destroyed—?” Brisbois blurted. He turned his attention to the council and looked at each person in turn. “You must believe me! I know nothing of Auroch’s plans—”

“Then why did you leave with the mage after he attacked Sir Flinn and his party here in the castle?” Graybow interjected suddenly.

Brisbois shook his head angrily. “I didn’t leave with Auroch willingly! He abducted me as he disappeared.”

“Are we to presume you have quit his company?” Arteris asked and added quickly, “and, if so, how did you escape from so powerful a mage?”

Brisbois’s face displayed emotions ranging from anger to shame; he looked aside at the floor. After a few moments, he turned to Arteris and addressed her squarely, “Auroch spirited us away to Specularum, Your Ladyship. We appeared on a crowded dock, and I took advantage of the confusion to slip away. The attack had drained Auroch, and he was not capable of retrieving me.”

Baroness Penhaligon considered the knight’s words, her face devoid of emotion or thought. “And what have you done in the weeks since this abduction, Master Brisbois?” Arteris asked impassively.

Brisbois took a deep breath, as if he were about to reveal some grave personal secret. Jo found herself entranced, despite her anger.

“At first, I sought to escape Auroch’s influence. He is obviously more powerful than I, and I feared for my life,” Brisbois replied leadenly. “But I slowly realized that if the man were as powerful as I thought, I could not hope for any real escape. My only option was to kill him before he killed me. I have been running from him only to gain opportunity to decide how I might kill him.”

“Where is Auroch now? Rifllian? Kelvin?” Sir Graybow asked.

Brisbois rubbed his brow, then said, “He stayed for a while in Specularum, and I tried to figure out how to trap him there. But he tracked me down, so I escaped the city and traveled north on the Duke’s Road. I stopped in Kelvin, hoping to buy some time there.” Brisbois paused.

“You were never in Rifllian?” Graybow asked.

“No, sir, I was not,” Brisbois said readily. Jo stared at the knight intently.

“My sources—” began the castellan.

“Were misinformed, Sir Graybow” Brisbois said steadily. “I arranged for them to be misinformed”

“What!” demanded Graybow and Arteris simultaneously.

The other council members murmured to each other, and even the three mages shot questioning looks at Brisbois. The castellan stood and shouted, “Explain yourself, Master Brisbois!”

The knight shrugged. “I led your informants to believe I was in Rifllian in the hopes of throwing Auroch off the track as well,” he said clearly. “I also hoped you might send someone after me, someone who might encounter and dispatch Auroch in Rifllian.”

Arteris exclaimed, “Surely you must know that you are an outlaw to the order? Surely you must know that breaking your bond with Sir Flinn was the final stroke in your dismissal. This new transgression—willful misdirection of the order for your own purposes—may well have won you your death.”

Brisbois inclined his head in the baroness’s direction. “Yes, Your Ladyship, I do know all that,” he said. “But I also know that I could not take on Auroch by myself. I hoped for an envoy from the castle to back me up. If I could prove my good intent by battling side by side with the order against Auroch, perhaps you would have allowed me to return to the Order of the Three Suns.” Brisbois looked at the council members. Jo’s eyes darted daggers, but he avoided looking at her.

The room was brutally silent. Eventually, Sir Graybow stood. “You hoped for many, many things, Master Brisbois,” the castellan said slowly, “and I am appalled at your lack of humility!” Sir Graybow turned away from the table and stalked over to one of the windows. He shook his head. The sun was setting, but the magical lanterns had not begun to glow. One of the guards began lighting lanterns.

Arteris rose and said slowly, “Are we to infer, Master Brisbois, that you wish the court to show you leniency once more?” Her voice was laced with astonishment.

Brisbois’s cheek rippled. He nodded and said, “Yes, Your Ladyship, I do.”

“This is … most unprecedented, Master Brisbois,” Arteris said coldly. “Pray, tell us how you possibly esteem yourself worthy of this grace beyond grace!” The baroness took her seat.

Brisbois gestured in Jo’s direction. “I came willingly with Squire Menhir and Master Briarblood. I in no way harmed Sir Flinn—”

Johauna jumped up. “Yes, but you didn’t help him, either! You let Auroch attack—”

The castellan swung around from his position at the window. “You are out of order, Squire Menhir!” Sir Graybow shouted thickly. He pointed at Jo. “Sit down at once, or remove yourself!”

Stunned, Jo sat down in her chair. She looked at Sir Graybow, and the blood drained from her face. Jo turned to Braddoc for sympathy, but the dwarf only gave her a warning shake of his head.

The castellan returned to the table and bowed formally to the baroness. “My apologies, Your Ladyship, for the actions of my squire,” Sir Graybow said gruffly. “I assure you, Squire Menhir’s outburst was the last you will ever hear from her.”

The baroness stared at Sir Graybow and said icily, “And I assure you, Sir Graybow, that that is the last such outburst I shall allow.” Arteris turned to Jo and stared pointedly at the young woman. Jo swallowed hard.

Sir Graybow looked at the council members, then addressed the baroness, “Your Ladyship, determination of Master Brisbois’s fate is something we may postpone. The death of our castle’s magic is not.” The castellan bowed slightly and took his chair.

Arteris looked at Brisbois, who was swaying noticeably now. She pursed her lips, then gestured for a guard to give the man a chair. When Brisbois sat down, Arteris said, “Your involvement with both Verdilith and Teryl Auroch, your conspiracy against Sir Flinn and the principles of the Order of the Three Suns—these transgressions alone give us reason to suspect you in the plot that has destroyed our magic.”

“I know nothing of this!” protested Brisbois. The council looked at him, as the words rang hollowly through the room. Brisbois said nothing more, and Arteris continued.

“Only a few of our mages have any spells or powers left to them, and virtually none of our enchanted items work.” The baroness paused and steepled her fingers. “Master Brisbois, to put it plainly, we suspect you of conspiring with Teryl Auroch in the destruction of our magic. How say you?”

Brisbois blanched. “I am innocent, Your Ladyship.” His voice rang with sincerity, though Jo was hard pressed to believe him. You re guilty of other things anyway, and they will be exposed, she thought.

“You still haven’t addressed the castellan’s question. Do you know where Auroch has been the last several weeks, and do you know where he is now?” Arteris asked coolly.

“As I said, Auroch was in Specularum and then traveled north along the Duke’s Road. He was in Kelvin as recently as yesternight—” Brisbois said slowly.

“Excuse me,” Sir Graybow cut in. “Did you actually see Auroch in Kelvin, Master Brisbois? Might he have sent you the note from elsewhere?”

Brisbois blinked. One eye had completely closed over, and his bruises had darkened to deep purple. “You are correct, Sir Graybow,” he said after a moment. “I did not actually see Auroch in Kelvin. 1 only assumed he passed through Kelvin because of the note and because he had been traveling north.” He turned to the baroness. “To my knowledge, Auroch has not been in Penhaligon at all since he attacked Sir Flinn.” Brisbois shook his head. “That is not to say that he didn’t have the time or the magical means to travel to the castle.”

“Do you know where the mage is now, Master Brisbois?” the baroness repeated testily.

“No, Your Ladyship, I do not,” Brisbois replied slowly. “I last saw him on the Duke’s Road just south of Kelvin. I assumed he entered the town there.” Brisbois sighed and then said, “What makes you think Auroch is responsible for the failure of your magic? Isn’t it possible that Verdilith has done this to you?”

“It is one and the same,” Sir Graybow said. “Haven’t you heard? After Sir Flinn died in single-handed combat with the dragon, a detachment from the castle engaged Verdilith in his lair. The dragon escaped with the aid of Auroch.”

Brisbois nodded impatiently. “Yes, I have heard the tale! Every inn is abuzz with the story of Flinn’s life. Why, some of the minstrels claim Flinn the Mighty is not dead, but being transformed into an Immortal.”

Jo caught her breath; her hand rose, but Braddoc grabbed it and shook his head at her. Jo held her peace and listened avidly to the knight.

“… an unlikely event,” Brisbois was saying, “considering the difficulties involved.”

“Though if any man in known history could have become an Immortal,” Sir Graybow interrupted, “it would have been Sir Flinn.” The castellan’s expression was grim.

“Er, yes, Sir Graybow,” Brisbois said hastily. “My point is that the minstrels will tell any tale, and so I hadn’t believed their reports of Auroch and Verdilith together again, especially since the mage seemed so preoccupied with killing me.”

One of the doors to the council room opened to admit a guard. He coughed politely, but, before he could speak, an old woman pushed forcibly past him. Following her was a young boy. Karleah and Dayin! Johauna thought. She almost rose but remembered her place just in time.

The guard would not be outdone, however. He stepped before the intruders and announced to the baroness, “Your Ladyship, the wizardess Karleah Kunzay and her apprentice request—”

“I didn’t ‘request’ anything. I demanded,” Karleah interrupted the guard and stepped around him. Arteris made a dismissing gesture, and the guard returned through the door to his post outside. Karleah stepped forward, Dayin by her side. He cast Jo and Braddoc a quick smile.

“To what do we owe the meaning of this intrusion, crone?” Arteris asked. Her voice was colder than it had ever been to either Brisbois or Jo. “I should have you thrown out, but I am assuming this is important.” Arteris arched her brows haughtily.

“Where is the box?” Karleah demanded. The wizardess’s lanky gray hair seemed to stand on end.

“What box?” Arteris asked angrily.

Braddoc jumped to his feet and stood beside Karleah. “Your Ladyship,” he said, his eyes suddenly wide with alarm. “I know the box of which Karleah speaks: the iron box I took from Verdilith’s lair!” Jo stood and joined her friends. She noticed Sir Graybow’s eyes and pursed her lips. Her friends were more important than protocol.

“Its the key to this magical conundrum,” the old crone supplied.

Arteris turned on the mages, who had been silent all along. “Master Keller,” she said to the youngest, “did you not tell me that this … box was simply a puzzle box, an item definitely not magical?”

The mage stood and stared from Karleah to Arteris. He stammered, “Y-yes, Your Ladyship, I did.”

“You fool!” Karleah shrieked. She threw up her bony hands and advanced on the mage. “Don’t you know? The box is what’s drained away all your castle’s magic, and much of mine!”

The young man’s face blanched. “I—I didn’t know,” he stuttered.

“That box must be hidden far, far away,” Karleah said in a voice deadly serious. “That box must be dropped in the deepest gorge, the farthest sea, whatever! It must be removed from all sources of magic immediately! She gave the mage a push with her oaken staff. “Go, get the box. Give it to Braddoc, that unmagical dwarf who brought it here in the first place. He should take it away.”

The young man was shaking so badly he almost fell over on top of Karleah. “I—I—I can’t, old crone,” he said fearfully. “I can’t get the box!”

“What!” Karleah shrieked. Never before had Jo seen the old wizardess more upset. Why, it’s almost as if Karleah’s terrified, Jo thought suddenly. Can the box really be that powerful? “What have you done with it, fool?” Karleah roared. She raised her staff.

The oldest mage, Aranth, stepped forward and pulled young Keller away. He, too, was shaking, but he said with some semblance of calm, “The puzzle box was a disruption to my mages—they were fiddling about, trying to open it when they should have been working on restoring the castle’s magic. I sent it away so we could get back to work.”

“Sent it where?” Karleah asked, breathlessly.

“To a cousin of mine,” Aranth said. “He loves such puzzles, as do all those wizards up there in Armstead.”

Karleah’s face turned white, and Jo swore some of the woman’s hair did, too. “You … you sent the box to … to Armstead?” Karleah whispered. “You sent the box to the most … magic-filled place in the country … ?”

Karleah’s eyes rolled back in her head, and she crumpled.

“Karleah!” Dayin shouted as he knelt next to the wizardess’s fallen form. Jo knelt, too, and lifted Karleah’s head onto her lap. Jo looked up at Sir Graybow, but the castellan was speaking in Arteris’s ear.

“Karleah! Karleah!” Jo whispered as she stroked the old woman’s lined face, marveling at the deep seams.

The baroness’s voice rang out authoritatively, “Council members, please leave. This is a matter I would discuss with the mages. Guards, take Master Brisbois to the dungeons. Sir Graybow, attend the wizardess and her companions.”

Madam Astwood eyed the baroness sulkily. “Your Ladyship, it is inappropriate to make decisions concerning the Estate of Penhaligon without our counsel and knowledge.”

Arteris fixed her icy gaze on the mistress of etiquette. “In times of dire threat, security must come before freedom of knowledge,” the baroness said. She continued in a voice loud enough to carry to all the council members, some of whom were already at the door. “And should word of this leak out to anyone—anyone, mind you—I shall personally see that each and every one of you is removed from the council .” The council members cast quick glances at each other, then slowly filed out of the room.

The two guards had Brisbois by his arms when the knight called out, “Baroness! Please, I would remain!”

Arteris hesitated, then looked at the castellan. Sir Graybow rubbed his chin, then shook his head. “No,” the castellan said, “I cannot permit it. The security of the castle is my affair. If either Auroch or Verdilith is the cause of our troubles, Brisbois might reveal our plans.” Sir Graybow gestured for the guards to take Brisbois away. The man left without another word.

Jo and Dayin watched with trepidation as Karleah slowly recovered from her swoon. Out of the corner of her eye, Jo noticed that the majority of the council members had filed out of the room at a gesture from Sir Graybow.

“What … what happened?” Karleah muttered.

Jo and Dayin helped her rise. They settled her on a chair. The baroness and Sir Graybow stood nearby, expressions of concern filling their faces. The three mages tried to look equally interested in the old woman’s welfare, but were obviously anxious about their own. Karleah looked back and forth between Sir Graybow and Arteris. “Sending that thing to Armstead, indeed!” she spat. “Whose pea-brained idea was that?”

The castellan looked to the three huddled magicians, then turned to Arteris and whispered, “I know you wanted to discuss the matter with your magely advisors, My Lady, but I think we should dismiss them as well. Each is as suspect in this plot as Master Brisbois.”

The baroness gave each of the sorcerers a penetrating gaze, and Jo suspected that this gaze had been used to elicit the truth from lesser men many times before. After a moment, Arteris pursed her lips and nodded to herself. She turned to Karleah and said, “I cannot suspect everyone, Sir Graybow. I think these mages are more bunglers than traitors. Let them stay.”

The insult notwithstanding, the mages seemed to ease a bit.

“As you wish,” Sir Graybow said, then turned to the mages. “When did you send the box?”

Aranth answered, “It left with four guards almost a week ago. They should be in Armstead any day now. Are you saying that this—thing, will destroy the magic there as well?”

Karleah pursed her lips and sucked in her cheeks. Her face was suddenly gaunt and strained with fatigue. “Yes.” She bowed her head and nodded gravely. “But I don’t think the box simply drains magical energy: otherwise, why would Verdilith have kept it in his lair? The dragon obviously had the box for a reason—and he must have let us steal it for a reason, too. It must have another purpose.”

“Perhaps it needs to gather a certain amount of power before it can fulfill its true purpose,” Aranth suggested tentatively. “If the box arrives in Armstead, it may gather enough magical energy to … to destroy all of Penhaligon.”

“If Verdilith and Auroch created it,” Karleah finished, “I would agree.”

The baroness made a slight noise, and Sir Graybow put his hand on the woman’s shoulder. Arteris leaned toward the castellan minutely, the first time Jo had ever seen the woman display any weakness. “What can be done?” Arteris asked quietly.

“Surely we can prevent this catastrophe,” Sir Graybow said to Karleah. “Treacherous sorcery has never yet defeated the Quadrivial.” His gruff voice rang in the room, and Jo felt suddenly heartened.

Karleah shrugged. “We can intercept the box, I suppose,” she said slowly. “Perhaps your guards are slow, or have met with disaster.”

Sir Graybow nodded, then helped the baroness to her chair and sat next to her. Jo and the others sat down as well.

“This is what we will do,” the castellan began, his deep voice reassuring and authoritative. “Squire Menhir,” he said formally, “by virtue of your prompt return of Master Brisbois, your proven rapport with Karleah, who knows most about the box, and the fact that I am surer of your motives than of any other knights and squires at this point, I send you after this box. You must stop its arrival at Armstead any way you can ”

The baroness looked askance at her castellan and said, “I’m sorry, Sir Graybow, but I believe that one of the more experienced knights should be given this task.”

“Normally, that would be true, My Lady, but there is one overriding reason for my choice. Squire Menhir has something no other knight possesses.”

“And that is?”

“Wyrmblight. If the dragon Verdilith is involved in these events, the sword forged to slay him must go along.”

“But she is only a squire.”

“I will send her in the company of Master Briarblood, a fighter equal to even our most experienced knights.” Sir Graybow looked at the dwarf, who nodded his head slightly. “And Karleah Kunzay will go as well, a mage who exceeds our mages in experience and intuition—as shown by her discovery of the box’s power.

“In their initial assault on Verdilith’s lair, Squire Menhir and her companions proved themselves more effective than the full regiment of knights and mages we sent afterward. And, given the problem of security, I would prefer to send a small, potent strike force rather than a marching army.”

“Do you agree to go, Karleah Kunzay?” Arteris asked. The old wizardess rubbed her chin for a moment. Then, looking at Jo, she said, “Aye, I’ll go, but on one condition: that only one more person accompanies us, and I choose whom.” Karleah turned to Sir Graybow and Arteris, who traded stunned looks.

Graybow peered at Karleah. “And who would that be?” Karleah grunted. “Master Brisbois.”

Jo stood and cried, “What? Are you crazy, Karleah? That man’s in league with Auroch—”

Karleah snapped, “Hush up, young lady. I’ve got more intuition in my little toenail than you have in your whole carrot-topped head! Brisbois is innocent. He’s also the only one who knows anything about Aurochs whereabouts and plans. He completes the strike force. We’ve got our sword-bearer …” She looked at Jo, Wyrmblight resting against the chair beside her. The crone’s gaze then shifted to Braddoc. “We’ve got our warrior, our spell-flinger (and assistant),” she continued, patting Dayin’s shoulder. “Now we need an information man, and Brisbois is it.”

“With Brisbois in our camp, Auroch has a certain chance of finding out what we’re up to!” Jo shouted. The castellan grabbed her arm and flashed her a warning look. Jo reluctantly took her seat. She crossed her arms.

Arteris spoke up. “It would seem that the disposition of Master Brisbois must be addressed now, rather than later as we had hoped.” She paused and looked at Jo. “The council had not quite come to a decision, and now other factors have arisen that would further color their judgments.” The baroness steepled her fingers again and set her gaze on Jo, who felt suddenly uncomfortable.

“Squire Menhir, as heir to Sir Flinn’s blade, what would you have us do with Master Brisbois? Would you grant him mercy … or death.”

Jo stared at the baroness, her mouth suddenly dry. Her arms felt like lead, and she let them come uncrossed. “My decision, Your Ladyship?” she asked, breathless.

The baroness nodded. “Yes, squire. The decision is yours. Master Brisbois has clearly betrayed his duty, not once but twice. The first time, Sir Flinn asked that the man be spared, asked that Master Brisbois act as his bondsman for one year, in hopes that he could be reformed. Sir Flinn’s mercy, of course, went astray.”

“I know all this,” whispered Jo.

Arteris nodded. “And now, Master Brisbois has betrayed his duty a second time, not honoring his sworn word as bondsman,” the baroness said. She shook her head sadly. “We have not determined if Brisbois joined Auroch willingly or was indeed abducted by the mage. But, either way, he rendered to Sir Flinn none of his service as bondsman. And, in a feeble attempt to return himself to our good graces, Master Brisbois willfully misled the knighthood,” Arteris paused, letting the point sink in. “By all rights,” Arteris continued slowly, “the man deserves no further mercies. He is clearly without honor. He is possibly in league with Auroch and Verdilith. And he may do us great harm. His execution would be warranted, and I will sanction it with only a word from you to do so.”

Sir Graybow covered Jo’s hands with his own and said,

“The choice is yours, Squire Menhir. You are Sir Flinn’s former squire. Not only are his memory and his sword entrusted to you, but his commitments are yours as well.” He paused and then said, “As we all saw in the marketplace, the people of Penhaligon cheer your mission of vengeance, whether I do or not. So, I leave the choice to you: mercy or death.”

“Mercy or death?” Jo muttered in bewilderment. Those two words hammered at her soul. She wanted her revenge, now even more than in the marketplace. During the council meeting, Brisbois had smoothly laid out excuse after excuse, lie after lie, and Jo had grown only more angry. He was not innocent. Brisbois had defamed Flinn. Brisbois had burned Flinn’s home and befriended Flinn’s killer. He had vowed his service as bondsman and then fled when Auroch had attacked. A score of true offenses rose to the surface of Jo’s mind, accompanied by a hundred imagined ones. And her anger deepened. The stone in her belt pouch seemed to throb in sympathy with her hatred, and a voice in her head whispered, Give him death, Johauna; for the sake of Flinn’s soul, give him death.

But Flinn had let the man live. The irony of the situation suddenly struck Jo: Brisbois had dishonored Flinn by saying he had denied mercy to a foe on the battlefield. The charge was not only false, but absurd. Flinn demonstrated his mercy by granting a second chance to the very man who had falsely accused him. It was Flinn’s mercy that had saved Brisbois, had let him keep his title, had let him live.

Jo felt the anger in her begin to crack. For so long this grim vow of vengeance had eclipsed her mind, eclipsed her being. And, in its deep shadow, Jo’s soul had withered. Her single-minded quest to hunt down and kill the slayers of Flinn seemed suddenly hollow, destroying rather than building her soul.

It was making her more like Brisbois, less like Flinn.

No, Jo told herself. True knights exhibit not only Honor, Courage, Faith, and Glory. True knights also exhibit Mercy.

“If I am the heir to Sir Flinn’s estate as well as his commitments,” Jo said clearly, “then I can only do as he would have done: I grant mercy to Sir Brisbois.” Jo’s eyes glittered suddenly. “But Master Brisbois must fulfill his sworn word as bondsman.”

Conflicting emotions flitted across the castellan’s face, and Jo wondered just what the man was thinking. Finally, he turned to Arteris and said, “If you so approve, Your Ladyship.”

The baroness gave a slight nod.

Karleah caught Jo’s eyes and said, “Looks like we’d better get that man out of the dungeons, then. We’ve a box to find.”

Jo nodded slowly, her heart pounding in her chest. A niggling voice in her mind told her she had made the wrong choice, and for the wrong reasons.