Samuval swiftly answered Gerard's move by switching two of his pieces, putting him in a much stronger position. With a start, Gerard realized that Samuval's maneuver had left Gerard's Courtiers open to attack from at least two quarters. He stared at the outlaw chieftain.
"Yarus's version," the older man explained.
"But you never said…" Gerard's protest trailed off, unfinished.
"No," Samuval said, treating Gerard to another wink. "I never did."
From then on, Samuval had Gerard hard on the run. Piece by piece, he ate away at Gerard's forces, constantly threatening the Courtiers. Gerard found himself sweating. He had the feeling Samuval was toying with him, that he could have ended the game long before now if he had so desired. But instead he wanted to drag out Gerard's defeat, humiliating him in front of the men.
Samuval, meanwhile, seemed to play only half attentively. He moved a Priest into position to threaten Gerard's remaining Soldier. Gerard blocked Samuval's Priest with a Courtier, and looked his opponent in the eye unflinchingly.
Samuval chuckled and took one of Gerard's Priests with a Thrall, a daring move that he made look effortless. Gerard clenched his jaw and pulled his forces tighter around his Courtiers.
Samuval affected a thoughtful frown. Then he casually took another of Gerard's Courtiers with a Merchant, leaving Gerard's last Courtier vulnerable on Samuval's next move, regardless of what Gerard did during his turn. "Game," Samuval said amid the hooting and catcalls of his men. The outlaw leaned back. Abruptly, his expression turned scowling and serious. "You play a good game," Gerard admitted. "So are we done talking about Sheriff Joyner? Am I free to go now?"
Samuval shrugged, a gesture of uncertain meaning.
Gerard slowly rose and began to make his way through the press of Samuval's men, who gave way reluctantly before him. He reached for his belt and dagger from the table. Brok stopped him.
"I'll keep those, if you don't mind," Samuval said tersely.
"I'm not exactly in a position to object, am I?" Gerard said.
"No, you're not. And I'm not ready for you to go back, not just yet." Samuval jabbed a finger at Gerard. "You have lost, and now you must pay the penalty for losing."
This brought howls of laughter from his men as they closed in tighter around Gerard.
¦ ¦ ¦ ¦ ¦
A few minutes later, Gerard found himself standing with his arms bound behind him and an evil-smelling canvas bag pulled snugly over his head. At Samuval's insistence, and with the eager help of his men, Gerard had been forced to remove his doublet, his tunic, and his boots. He shivered in the sudden chill of being dressed in only his knee-length singlet.
"Now you may go," Samuval hissed in his ear. "And don't think to presume upon my hospitality again."
The butt of a pike thrust into Gerard's back started him walking, guiding his steps roughly whenever he chanced to stray from the proper path. At the fortress gate, he was abruptly halted by another jab in his stomach. His breath flew out of him in a sharp gasp. The gate to the fortress creaked open, and Gerard was shoved outside. Someone whisked off the bag, although Gerard's head was still bound tightly in a dirty cloth. He could only see by squinting out of one eye.
"Now don't dawdle," chirped the leader of the soldiers who had first taken Gerard captive. "If I were you, I'd hightail it back to Solace." His voice turned into a snarl. "Before night falls and it gets plenty cold around here. And before the baron changes his mind."
The man laughed and shut the fortress gate behind him.
Forcing himself to walk erect even while he felt his back offered a perfect target for any arrow or crossbow bolt, Gerard headed toward the bluff from which he had first observed Samuval's lair. He felt uncomfortably exposed, wearing only his singlet. Besides, the cloth wrapped around his head made it difficult for him to see much. Behind him, he could hear Samuval's soldiers laughing and taunting from the fortress's walls. The rough ground cut and jabbed his feet. Awkwardly, he climbed the bluff, heading toward where he had tethered Thunderbolt.
The trek took a long time, with Gerard stumbling and falling several times. The afternoon shadows lengthened and gave way to the gloom of dusk. Vercleese was pacing nervously when Gerard limped through the underbrush. The knight looked up in horror at Gerard's condition. "What happened? Are you hurt?"
"Just my dignity," Gerard growled as Vercleese unwrapped the cloth from his head and cut his bonds. Gerard stood a moment, working the blood back into his hands. By the time Gerard was ready to mount up, Vercleese was grinning, although he at least had the good grace to turn aside from Gerard's angry gaze.
"Oh, shut up," Gerard snapped as if he had overheard Vercleese's thoughts. "Let's just get back to Solace, all right? And don't ever mention this incident to me again."
"Anything you say." Vercleese snickered.
Gerard resolved to treat his deputy to silence during the entire seemingly endless ride back to town. They took side streets to get to the inn, although still there were people about who stared wide-eyed at the sight of their sheriff riding stiffly erect in his undergarments. At the base of the great vallenwood tree that housed the inn, Gerard realized the only way to his quarters was through the inn's common room, which would be thronged at this time of day. He let out an exasperated breath and turned to Vercleese, who struggled to keep his expression impassive.
"Can you find me a ladder?" Gerard asked.
A short while later, he slithered through the window of his room and landed unceremoniously in a heap on the floor. He got up slowly, nursing his injured feet, scratching at the innumerable bug bites that covered every inch of his skin, and flopped into bed. Through the open window, he heard Vercleese whistling a cheerful tune as he carried the ladder away and led the horses to the stable. Gerard scowled. Thankfully, within moments he had fallen into an exhausted sleep.
CHAPTER 15
Gerard woke late the next morning, stiff, sore, and itching all over. The bug bites didn't account for all of the itching, he discovered, for apparently he had brushed against some poison ivy on his trek back from Samuval's fortress; he had a red, irritated rash all down the side of one leg. With effort, he kept from clawing at it, although it appeared he had scratched it plenty during the night, making it worse. It itched and burned something fierce.
The sunlight poured through his window. Somewhere, a meadowlark sang. On the streets and the bridge-walks beneath Gerard's attic quarters, Solace already bustled with purpose and energy.
Gerard scowled, dressed in fresh clothes, then went to put on his boots, only to realize they were still in Samuval's possession. The first order of the day would be a trip to the cobbler, through the crowded streets, in his bare feet.
He tiptoed downstairs, hoping to avoid running into Laura or any of the others who worked at the inn.
In that regard he was successful. But if he hoped to make the entire trek to the cobbler's unnoticed, he was doomed to failure. A woman in the silk skirts and lace collar of Solace's new high society saw him emerge furtively from the stairs at the base of the vallenwood tree, and she pointed and giggled. Her companion, a man in similarly elegant attire, turned at the sound and also caught sight of the sheriff. His laughter caused a ripple along the street as more and more people turned to stare and join in the laughter at Gerard's expense.