“Oh, very well!” Allouette kicked her heels against her horse’s sides and rode forward.
The golden mist closed about them and the horses began to become nervous.
“They smell monsters,” Allouette said.
“Something foul, at any rate.” Gregory wrinkled his nose. “But it has more the smell of decaying plants than of supernatural villainy.”
Then the horses stopped.
“Gee-up.” Gregory kicked his horse, but it only dug in its hooves and put down its head.
“They are wiser than we,” Allouette said, “and refuse to go on—but I confess that curiosity has gripped me now, dear heart.”
“Let us see if we can lead them.” Gregory dismounted and went ahead of his horse, tugging gently on the reins. The animal resisted for a minute, then grudgingly began to follow—but slowly.
“The ground squelches underfoot!” Allouette said, disgusted. “We must be nearing the river.”
“Nearing?” Gregory stopped for a moment in surprise. “We have ridden far enough that we should have crossed it!”
“How then?” Allouette stared at him, but saw only his silhouette in the mist. Instinctively, she reached out to grasp his hand. “Has the river run away?”
“Rivers always run,” Gregory said practically. “Walk warily, love. We may find our steps wetter than we wish ere long.”
They started ahead—but Allouette’s right boot wouldn’t come free. “Gregory! I am stuck!”
“Here, I shall pull you free.” Gregory turned back—and nearly fell on his face. “Mine, too! I cannot lift my foot!”
“Foot?” Allouette plucked up her skirts, looking down, and saw with horror that the mud had risen about her ankles. “I cannot see my feet! I am sinking!”
“We have blundered into a bog in the fog,” Gregory groaned. “Hold tightly, and I shall try to rise above it!”
He exerted all the strength of his mind in levitation, but his feet scarcely budged.
“There is more than mud holding us down,” Allouette cried with the thin edge of panic in her voice. “There is magic in this!”
CHAPTER 3
“Now I shall call for help,” Gregory said, relenting, and set his mind to searching for his brother and sister.
Allouette joined him with all the fervor of the desperate. Just to play safe, she called out, “Help! Any who hear us, come aid!”
“A rescue, a rescue!” Gregory cried.
“Wherefore, brother?” called a voice from the fog. “What could have overcome you?”
Gregory stared. “Geoffrey? How came you here?”
“Why, you called, did you not? Call again, brother, and keep calling, or we shall not be able to find you!”
“We?” Allouette asked with dread.
“Your prince and liege,” Alain’s voice called. “Sing high, damsel, or we shall blunder right past you!”
Allouette groaned instead.
Geoffrey shouldered out of the fog. His mouth twitched at the sight of them, but he had the grace not to laugh. “Alain, find a long limb of a tree! Our friends are bogged down.”
“As you say.” The prince materialized out of the mist, saw them, stared, then gave himself a shake, knowing it was impolite. He extended a fallen branch. “Will this reach?”
“Yes, thank Heaven!” Gregory shoved the stick over toward Allouette.
“Aid me, Geoffrey,” Alain said. “Leverage is against me.”
“It rarely works for me.” Geoffrey bent down to take hold of the wood.
“Hold fast, dear,” Gregory urged Allouette while his eyes commiserated—it had to be very unpleasant, being rescued by your former intended victim. He wondered if it would be worse if she had been rescued by Cordelia and Quicksilver, her former rivals. With a look that said she did it only to please him, Allouette shivered and took a tighter hold on the branch.
Geoffrey and Alain began to pull. For a moment, there was no sign of progress; then, very slowly, Allouette began to move.
“Heave!” Geoffrey cried. As Allouette began to move more easily, he called out, “Good fortune that you did not go very far into the mud!”
“No fortune at all,” Gregory called back. “You try taking more than two steps in this glue! On second thought, do not!”
“If you say so,” Geoffrey said equably, and started his next pull as Alain ended his. Inch by inch, the two of them hauled Allouette to safe ground. She came up the last yard on her knees, eyes downcast. “I—I thank you, sirs.”
“My pleasure,” Alain said gravely. “I am glad to be of some use.”
“Rare talk, for a crown prince!” Geoffrey slapped him on the shoulder. “Haul in our other fish.”
Alain pushed the branch out over the mud again. Gregory caught it, then held on grimly while the two young men pulled. The mud did not give him up easily; he felt as though it were pulling on him just as strongly as his brother and friend. Then a mighty sucking sound announced his liberation and he began to move slowly toward the shore.
“Up with you, now!” Geoffrey yanked him by the collar and lifted, and Gregory came to his knees with solid ground under him. “I was never so glad for honest sod!” he said fervently.
“Nonetheless, I find myself unsure.” Geoffrey surveyed his brother critically. “How say you, Alain? Is he too small to keep? Should we throw him back?”
But Alain’s gaze was on the woman who sat gazing down at her muddy skirt and boots, clearly fighting back tears. “Aye, a shame it is to see so pretty a traveling cloak and such handsome boots so besmeared with foulness. Yet take heart, damsel—they can surely be cleaned. The skirt is of stout linen, is it not?”
“It is, Your Highness,” Allouette said, her voice low.
“I appreciate the courtesy,” Alain said gently, “but if we are to be kin, you should call me by name.”
“I cannot!” Allouette cried, and the tears flowed. “I deserve whipping at your hands, not kindness!”
Gregory was beside her in two steps, enfolding her in his arms. “Yes, darling, I know—kindness and courtesy can cut worse than hatred. Still, the prince means you well.”
“I do indeed,” Alain said gravely, “and would rejoice if all citizens of this land could so good-hearted toward one another as you have proved toward Gregory.”
Allouette burst into sobs, completely undone not just by the words of praise alone, but by the plain sincerity of their speaker.
Geoffrey for once took his cue from Alain. “I have broken lances with many a foe who afterwards became a friend, and I hope you shall prove such a one.”
“I shall, I shall!” Allouette choked.
“Come then, sweet chuck,” Gregory said. “You will not break a lance on my brother, I trust!”
The tension of the moment stretched out thin as a thread of silk; then Allouette gave a strange sort of strangled laugh.
Geoffrey grinned, relaxing a little. “Come, shall I call you sister? For you, most certainly, shall call me rogue!”
“I shall call you a brave and courteous knight.” Allouette finally managed to look up at him, then turned to her fiancé. “How shall I bear to live among so kindly a family?”
“By being kindly to them,” Gregory replied, “and you have made a brave beginning.” He looked up at his brother and his friend. “Shall we wend our way onward, then?”
“Why not?” Geoffrey said. “Where had you in mind?”
Gregory shrugged. “I know not, brother, save that peasant folk directed us to this mist. It was from here, they said, that the ogres came.”
“Ogres?” Alain tensed, glancing to left and to right.
“We saw no ogres,” Geoffrey said, frowning. Then his brow cleared. “But we did find three huge piles of witch-moss! Well done, indeed! I trust they did not injure you before you disintegrated them.”