In desperation, I sought out the duchess. She was having an argument with her master of hounds, which argument she was apparently enjoying hugely, but when she saw my face she told him, “Then blow whenever you like,” and pulled her horse over next to mine. The master blew his horn to summon the hounds, put them on their leashes, and led them over the next hill while we sat our horses, talking.
The horses stamped and snorted clouds of white breath. “The count is planning to lead a body of knights to attack the demon,” I said.
“Does he know it’s a demon?”
“No, but I don’t think he’d care. He has no respect for magic and probably has none for the supernatural either. What am I going to do?”
“Stop him, I presume,” she said thoughtfully. “You know, you shouldn’t really be surprised. There have scarcely been any wars in the western kingdoms since there started to be school-trained wizards in all the chief political courts. If you wizards want to stop all fighting, you certainly have my support; too many people without any sense end up leading the battles. But you’ve got to realize that the knights are starting to seem almost superfluous, even to themselves. They’re trained as warriors, and the most war-like activity they normally have is escorting someone like me to the king’s castle for Christmas. No wonder they’re excited at finding someone to attack!”
I thought briefly that the same might be said about her. “The demon will destroy them.”
“Of course,” she said. “That’s why you have to stop them. The king would miss his knights, and I’d miss mine, even if the young count isn’t a favorite of any of us.” She chuckled, but I was unable to join in.
I had thought I had a week to decide what to do. Now I had less than a day.
“They won’t want to leave for Yurt until the boar hunt is over,” said the duchess, echoing my thought but much calmer about it. “I wonder if we ever are going to flush this boar!”
As if in answer, there was a far away blast of horns, and a much closer barking. We had been riding at the edge of the woods, and now there was a tremendous crashing in the blackberry thickets at the trees’ margin. A hundred yards from us, a dark shape suddenly burst out into the fields, at least twice as big as I had expected. I had also not been counting on the vicious tusks.
I pulled my horse up so sharply it reared, but the duchess kicked hers forward. “Head it off!” she yelled. “Try to corner it down in the streambed!” At the moment, the demon was much less interesting to her than the boar.
I couldn’t expect her to help me, I thought. Turning to her was only a last-ditch effort to find someone else to share the weight of the problem, when it was mine all along. I turned my horse to follow the hunt, turning over for the thousandth time in my mind the list of the people in Yurt. I kept coming up with the same answer as I had all the other times, that I could not imagine any of them deliberately bringing evil into the kingdom and putting a curse on the king.
Although the duchess tried to corner the boar in the streambed, it broke through the other side, rushing up the bank with the force of a winter storm and killing two hounds in the process.
Normally I would have been very interested in the hunt. Now I followed it because I did not know what else to do. I noted without much interest that the boar’s bristles were soon streaked with blood, and that its sheer strength made it able to break away several times when someone thought he had a spear in it.
The king and queen stayed out of the center of the action, for which I was glad; it would be no use, I thought, having had the king miraculously cured if he was then attacked by an enraged beast.
The Lady Maria also stayed in the background, her eyes excited, but more timid of the boar than she had been of the dragon.
“I can’t remember the last time we had boar meat for dinner in Yurt,” she told me. “I’m quite sure it was before you came, maybe even before the chaplain arrived. I do know I thought it very exotic the first time I tasted it-my brother’s castle is too close to the City for such wild animals!”
Since I had absolutely no interest in boar meat, in exotic flavors, or her brother’s castle, I grunted, doubtless very rudely.
She noticed my lack of interest and apparently decided to draw me out. “You were born in the City, weren’t you? This country life must all seem foreign to you.”
I was touched enough by her interest to manage a smile. “I always thought of myself as city boy until I came to Yurt, but I’m starting to think that I’m not one anymore.”
“The queen herself isn’t really a city girl now,” said Maria agreeably.
“I at least grew up in the City,” I said, “but I don’t have any family there anymore.”
“I knew you were an orphan,” she said, turning wide blue eyes dramatically on me. “We orphans must keep together.”
Even the hunt itself, the long spells of watchful inactivity, the sudden yelps and shouts, and the massive form of the boar shooting out of sight again, seemed appealing in comparison to listening to her chatter. “Let’s try to catch up with the others,” I said. “They’re sure to corner it soon, and we want to be there when they do.”
We trotted along a streambed overhung by leafless branches, passing several men on foot from the village who were leaning on massive spears and looking disgruntled.
“Is the boar up ahead?” Maria asked them.
They shrugged. “Could be anywhere, my lady. It’s the devil’s own boar, that one.”
Although I knew this was only a figure of speech, I didn’t like it and kicked my horse. “Come on,” I said. “The others should be just over this hill.”
And then, with a roar, the boar burst out directly in front of me. With riding skills I did not know I had, I pulled my horse aside, managed to stay in the saddle, and used my hands and weight to help the horse keep its feet on the slippery stones.
The Lady Maria was not so lucky. As my horse came down, hers reared up, and the boar shot under its hooves. She gave a despairing scream and scrabbled uselessly at the reins. Her sidesaddle perch gave her no chance to save herself. She flew twenty feet and crashed into the blackberry bushes.
The boar was gone. I was off my horse and beside her in a moment. My heart was pounding so hard it seemed its sound ought to summon the others.
She was lying absolutely still. Her face was dead white, except for the drops of startlingly red blood beginning to ooze from the scratches where the thorns had caught her on the way down. Her arms and legs were spread out as limply as a doll’s.
Furiously I unbuttoned her jacket and felt for her heartbeat. Blue eyes flipped open. “Fresh,” she said.
The Lady Maria insisted on riding back to the castle. Although her horse had fallen after it threw her, it had leaped up again immediately, and it did not seem to be favoring any of its legs. The villagers helped me calm the horse, readjust the saddle, and scoop her back up and into it.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t want to wait for a litter, my lady?” I tried to urge her.
“No,” she said obstinately. “My father always said that if you’re thrown you should get right back up, and he was right.”
Since she seemed to have no broken bones, it was hard to argue with her. But she showed no interest in rejoining the hunt, and I was able to lead her back toward the castle.
By the time we got there, she was ready to admit that maybe she was slightly bruised, even though she insisted that she did not need a doctor. The duchess’s lady’s maid went up to help her get ready for a nap, while I sat down in front of the fireplace in the empty great hall. For much of the afternoon I sat there, doing nothing more useful than keeping the fire burning.
Just before sunset, I heard the sounds of the returning hunting party. Even before I could hear the words, I could tell from the sound of their voices that it had been a success. With the boar dead, I feared, there would be nothing to prevent the young count from starting for the royal castle first thing in the morning.