They picked their way carefully around the side of the inn, went to the stable. A lamp burned inside, and a couple of young boys were staring into the wagon at the corpses. Gallen shooed them out.
In the stable, the horses were backed into their stalls, staring out with tired eyes. Gallen pulled the door tight, locked it with a cross-beam.
As soon as they were alone Maggie tumbled into Gallen’s arms and kissed him, a sweet, slow kiss. She’d been craving his touch all day, and now they just held each other, satisfying that urge. She shook as she held him, and Maggie found her eyes tearing, and Gallen whispered, “Oh, my sweet Maggie, what’s wrong?”
“Thomas,” she said. “He’s mucked it all up for us.”
“He can’t muck it all up, so long as we still love each other,” Gallen whispered. He pulled back, held her hand, and looked steadily into her eyes. “Maggie, we don’t really have to get married here. You and I could go to any world your heart fancies, and the marriage would be just as valid.”
Maggie’s heart skipped. “I know,” she said. Yet she felt cheated. Clere was her home. By tradition, a proper woman wouldn’t marry outside her own hometown, even if the groom came from another country. It was a matter of propriety. Only a girl who had come down with a child would marry in a far county, and if Maggie were to run off now, everyone would suspect her. And even though through her travels Maggie had learned that she no longer wanted to live on this world, she was saddened by what her friends and neighbors would think.
“Yes, I’ve always wanted to get married here,” she said. “I wanted to marry in my own hometown, dressed in white, with a priest.”
“I’ll talk to your uncle, tomorrow,” Gallen said, “press him for an early marriage. Maybe he’ll listen.” She looked up into his blue eyes, and with her fingers combed a wisp of his long hair back from his face.
Gallen pulled away from her, walked over to the wagon, looked down at the corpses of a green-skinned Vanquisher and one of Everynne’s personal guard, a beautiful female soldier. The night air was chill, and Gallen’s breath steamed from his mouth.
Maggie could tell that he had some distressing news to tell.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Maggie, I got a message from Everynne. She wants me to go to a planet called Tremonthin to protect someone, a Tharrin named Ceravanne. It’s important that I go soon.”
“Protect her from what?” Maggie asked. “The dronon?” She shivered involuntarily as she imagined the huge insect-like alien that the townsfolk had mistaken two weeks ago for Beelzebub, Lord of the Flies.
Gallen had defeated the dronon Lords in single combat, winning the title of Lords of the Swarm for himself and Maggie, and as the new queen of the dronon Swarm, Maggie had banished the dronon from the human-occupied worlds before she returned home to Tihrglas for her wedding.
Still, she imagined that some dronon would cause trouble. They didn’t think like humans at all. Certainly, when the next dronon hive queen matured, she would bring her Lord Escort to battle Gallen and Maggie, hoping to win back the title of Lords of the Swarm, believing that the title gave them the right to control ten thousand human-occupied worlds.
So Maggie’s return to Tihrglas served a purpose beyond allowing her wedding, for it kept her hidden from enemy dronon.
“No, it’s not the dronon,” Gallen said. “There is something called ‘the Inhuman’ on Tremonthin. I’m not sure what it is-a secret society, perhaps. A group of people seeking control.” Gallen’s jaw was set, rigid. Maggie knew that look. He was ready for a fight, and God forgive anyone who stood up to him.
“The Lady Semarritte warned me of Tremonthin before she died,” Maggie said. “She wanted us to go there, and she said that your skills as a warrior would be sorely tested.”
In the past two weeks, Gallen had been preparing for battle in ways that Maggie had never seen before. With this mantle of a Lord Protector that he wore during practice, this artificial intelligence that stored more information than a thousand libraries could hold, Gallen was learning secrets of combat that he’d never imagined. He said that he wanted to be more prepared when next he met the dronon, and Maggie suspected that he would be up for the test on Tremonthin. But the Lady Semarritte hadn’t seemed so sure.
Gallen seemed preoccupied as he looked at the corpses. Thomas had put the weapons from the dead Vanquisher and Everynne’s warrior atop the bodies. Gallen picked up the Vanquisher’s incendiary rifle. “We shouldn’t leave these weapons functional,” he said. “Some kid might pull the trigger and put the town to fire.” He cracked the rifle at the stock, pulled out its power pack and projectiles, then laid it back down.
Maggie stood beside him, picked up the vibro-blade from the dead woman’s hand, pulled out its power pack. The dead woman had a bag at her side, and Maggie pulled it open. Inside were rations, a couple of Black Fog grenades, a microwave bomb, a light globe that flashed blindingly when she squeezed it.
Gallen stuffed the items into his pockets, then pulled some weapons from the green Vanquisher’s munitions belt. Once he’d secreted anything that might prove dangerous, Gallen stood for a moment, then took Maggie’s hand, let out an uneasy breath. “I have to go to Tremonthin soon. A week or two at the longest. I’ll try to finish the job quickly. But Maggie, darling, I think you should stay here.”
“I won’t have you leave me behind,” Maggie said. “You could get hurt or killed or lose your key to the Gate of the World, and I’d never see you again.” She didn’t speak her greatest fear: that the dronon were hunting them, and without Gallen, Maggie would have no protection from the creatures.
“But if you come away with me, you’ll be exposing yourself to more danger,” Gallen said. “I’d rather have you safe, here, planning our wedding.”
Maggie folded her arms, looked down at the ground, thinking. Gallen wanted her to stay. It might well be that he had her best interests at heart, but she couldn’t bear the thought of remaining here in Clere. What if he lost his key to the Gate of the World and never came back? She could never be happy on a backward planet like Tihrglas, not when there were worlds with starships and immortals out there. And she couldn’t be happy without Gallen near.
And suddenly she knew why Gallen was so distant. “You’re not ready to leave Clere yet, are you?”
“Sure, I’m not happy to be going. I came home imagining how I’d snatch some rest, thinking about going fishing one last time. But we’ve been home two weeks, and I’ve thought of nothing but the dronon-how I’ll handle them when next we meet.
“One day of rest-that’s all I want,” Gallen said. “I’ll go fishing tomorrow, and we can pretend that nothing horrible ever happened to us. Come with me, okay? We can make a picnic.”
Maggie squinted, wondering what Thomas would say about her leaving a hundred guests unfed at the inn. But it was her inn, and she could walk away from it if she wanted to.
“I’m coming with you, Gallen,” Maggie said, taking both of his hands in hers, looking into his face. “I won’t feel safer without you, and I certainly couldn’t be happy without you. I’ll go anywhere you want to go-fishing tomorrow, if you want-Tremonthin the day after. I’ll be your wife. You know that I’d jump into pits of hell with you on a moment’s notice.”
“Oh, that’s what I’m worried about,” Gallen said solemnly. Now that that was settled, he looked around, talking as he thought. “I’ll need to hire someone to watch my mother while I’m gone. I’ll tell her I’ve got work on a merchant ship sailing to Greenland. With the wild rumors flying around about me, she’ll think I’m just leaving till the furor dies. And we’ll have to send word to Orick, discover if he wants to come with us.”
Maggie found herself trembling with anticipation at the thought of getting back on the road. “He’ll come.” There were a million things to take care of, Maggie knew. They’d have to leave town-escape Thomas-without drawing undue attention. Gallen kissed her one last time for the night. Then he took her hand and they slipped out of the stable.