Keane cleared his throat awkwardly. "Outside? Well, for one night, I suppose I could manage. … Do you suppose we could ask the earl to send up some food?"
"And bedrolls, too," laughed Alicia, suddenly relieved.
"Surely you wish me to leave men to guard you!" objected the earl, after Alicia had explained her intent.
"That won't be necessary." The princess felt that the absence of Earl Blackstone's swordsmen would enhance her security far more than their presence.
Grumbling something under his breath about scatterbrained girls, he finally agreed to send up food, wine, and some furs for sleeping. He rode away at the head of his guardsmen, and Alicia watched them until the winding trail carried them out of sight. Only then, and despite the stagnant water and the high, barren rocks looming overhead, did she feel the first stirrings of peace descend over the Moonwell and its little vale.
Once again the cloaked stranger came to Blackstone Manor in the dark of night, and though the man had been many miles away in Callidyrr that very day, the earl did not question his means of transport. He met him alone, in the privacy of his personal chamber. Even his sons would not know of this dark, nocturnal visitor.
"The younger sister, I believe, will be pliant to our will," said the newcomer, speaking from beneath his drooping-hood.
"Good," growled Blackstone. "The older one is going to be trouble." He told of Alicia's intransigence in the exploitation of the well.
"She is an obstacle," agreed the dark one. "But such obstacles can be overcome."
Blackstone glowered, his eyebrows meeting in a bushy ridge of darkness over his eyes. He stared, as if his gaze would penetrate that cloth enclosing the serenely hooded figure. "What do you mean?" he asked carefully.
"You couldn't have arranged the situation better had you planned it. Of course, no harm can be offered the girl-not while she is your guest. But has she not herself foresworn your hospitality tonight?"
"Indeed." The earl continued to study the cloaked figure.
"In fact, you tell me she declined your offer of a protective escort-guards to keep her safe against such threats as lurk in the hills."
"Aye-and those threats are real, but they do not materialize at my beck and call. And I cannot risk sending some of my own men, however well disguised. What we speak of is treason against the family of a very mighty High King. The loyalty of even my most trusted sergeants would be strained by such a task."
"There is another way." Now the hooded man leaned forward, clasping his hands over his knees. They extended from the sleeves of his robe, and Blackstone saw that they were slender and frail, almost womanly. The blue of veins showed through the pale skin.
"Continue," said the earl quietly.
"You remember, I am certain, the choice portions of iron and steel I have claimed from you these past years?"
"Aye. . and gold aplenty, too!"
The stranger laughed mirthlessly. "Even gold. All of these are materials that have enabled me to complete a task."
"What task is this?"
"There is a thing I have made-an iron golem. It is completed, hidden in a cave in the hills not far from here-and not far from the Moonwell."
"What is it? What can it do?"
"It is a mighty creature, more powerful than a dozen giants. It is immune to weapons and capable of killing with a single blast of steaming breath. But more than this, it is capped with the horned helmet of the northmen. It will be taken, by whoever sees it, as a great icon of the raiders, sent to inflict harm upon the Ffolk."
Blackstone scowled more fiercely than ever. "Why should I seek war with the northmen? My manor sits astride the border with Gnarhelm. We would be the first to feel the scourge of battle!"
The deep hood shook slowly back and forth. "There need not be war, but there will be suspicion. If the golem continues its rampage, perhaps destroying one of your own mine shacks, that suspicion will fall away from you. The princess will be an unfortunate casualty to an arcane threat, that is all."
"Can this. . creature accomplish this task tonight?"
"It is not a creature. It is a thing, created by myself!" snapped the visitor somewhat peevishly. "And, yes-within two hours of my leaving you, it can reach the Moonwell."
Blackstone sat back and looked upward, uncomfortable. He contemplated doing a thing he recognized as monstrous treachery. Though he had always been ambitious, he had come to his position honestly-by an accident of birth, true, but nonetheless the earldom of Blackstone was rightly his.
Now, with the failure of crop after crop of the Ffolk's harvest, the wealth of his holdings had made him foremost in influence among the king's advisers. This position was his, regardless of the activities of tonight.
Yet deep within himself, the Earl of Fairheight admitted that he wanted more … much, much more. This princess of Callidyrr, a mere babe, would stand in the path of his ambition, and his anger seethed.
And, the truth be known, Blackstone worried more about escaping the blame for his treason than he did about any moral qualms of his action. This concern was mollified by the promises and the plans made by the hooded visitor whose name the earl had never learned. Yet always before, the man's counsel had proved profitable. Had he not been the one who had first encouraged him to begin the excavations in Granite Ridge?
"Very well," he grunted, in the end reaching the decision that had been inevitable. "Go now and awaken your golem."
"This is the place," suggested the one-eyed pirate called Kaffa.
"Right you are," agreed Larth, for the isolated coastal farmstead matched up perfectly with the map given to the two outlaws by the nameless cleric.
Indeed, a brief search revealed Kaffa's longship, concealed amid a dense coastal thicket. A sail was carefully furled alongside the mast, and the ship was provisioned with food and water for a long voyage, as well as an assortment of fine steel weapons.
"As soon as the tide's high, we can put out to sea," muttered the grizzled, one-eyed northman with a snap of his fingers. He pointed to the prow of the sleek-hulled vessel. "Aye, and look: She's got a right proper name, at that!"
"The Vulture" read Larth. "She'll carry you to some ripe carrion, I'll bet!"
Kaffa gestured to the mast, where a triple-bolted image of lightning, made of steel, was fastened. "And here's our proof against sorcery," he noted, well pleased.
Already the coastal towns of Callidyrr seemed to beckon the piratical captain, offering the promise of plunder and other amusing diversions to the unscrupulous captain and his crew. The ship was long and sleek, easily capable of carrying a seventy-man complement.
"And here," added Larth, a few minutes later. "This will outfit a steadfast company of knights." He had discovered the barn where the unnamed cleric had collected armor and weapons, as well as horses, for Larth's thirty-man company. Heading north, Larth knew, they would soon enter the kingdom of Gnarhelm, and there they would act out their part as invaders from the south.
"The guy gave me the spooks," admitted Kaffa, reflecting on the robed priest who had collected them, given them their orders, and then paid them. "But he's got his organization down pat. He had everything here we could possibly need!"
"Aye," agreed Larth. "And not poor horseflesh, either." The veteran rider had just completed an inspection of his war-horses. "These steeds would do a king's guard proud!"