"Karoly," one queen said.
And the lady in black: "Late, Karoly, damned late. Couldn't you hear me?"
"I came as quickly as I could," Karoly said, from Gracja's back. Zadny whined and wanted reassurance. Yuri ducked down and held his muzzle, for fear he would start barking-it was not the time for it, most assuredly not the time.
"I want their heads\" the lady said. "I want them to pay, Karoly."
"A matter of sovereignty," another said. "Do I know this boy, Karoly?"
"This is Yuri," Karoly said, and Yuri, feeling altogether too conspicuous, stood up, and made a respectful bow.
"And Nikolai," the same lady said. "Faithful Nikolai."
A wind began to blow, picking up leaves and rushing through the trees with a deep sigh.
The trolls leapt up and scattered, as Gracja backed and faced to the stinging gale—Zadny yelped and took out for the brush and Yuri grabbed for him, missed and grabbed a second time, afraid Zadny was going to disappear into the thicket forever.
"Yuri!" he heard Nikolai shout behind him. And: "Ka-roly, damn it!"
He made a frantic grab after the hound, sprawled full length in the leaves and scrambled up again with a glance over his shoulder.
But there was no sign of the ladies, no sign of Nikolai or Karoly and none of the trolls—it was just woods, just a lot of trees, and a leafy spot, and plain daylight.
He heard something coming across the leaves. He looked and saw Zadny waggling up to him, all humble and contrite, now that they were completely lost. He made a half-hearted snatch and caught Zadny's collar, knelt down by him to look around and try to get his bearings, and it was all just forest.
Zadny licked him on the ear, on the jaw. Damned dog, Nikolai would say. And he would not damn Zadny, but Zadny was not high in his favor at the moment.
That was stupid, he thought. Nikolai would call it stupid-losing himself for a dog, worrying everyone—making the ghosts angry at him. The woods did not feel as spooky as before, but there were ghosts. As real as death, master Karoly had said. As real as the fact he had had people with him, who were not widi him now—or he was not with them.
"Stop it!" he said to Zadny's whining and washing of his face. "Stop it! You've got us both lost, you understand that? Stupid dog."
Zadny ran a few paces off from him as he got up, and ran back to him, and ran away again in the same direction, the same way Zadny had done on the mountain.
"Is it Tamas?" he asked, suddenly realizing what Zadny's behavior might mean. "Is it Tamas you're following? Do you know where he is, boy?"
Zadny went a little further, and circled back and out as he followed, faster and fester. Zadny had his nose to the ground now—he was on a scent, there was no question of it, and whatever had happened to separate him from the others, following Zadny before had never brought him to harm. So he trusted him mis time.
A blast of dust in the eyes and a blink and there was nothing, no one, no sign of the boy or the dog—I knew it, Nikolai said to himself, casting about in every direction for something familiar. I knew it, I knew it, I should have had that dog for goblin bait. . .
"Yuri!" he shouted into the woods. "Karoly!" And furiously, desperately: "Krukczy, damn your hairy hide, find the boy!"
"Find the boy, is it?" said a quiet voice.
He spun about. It was the voice on the tower stairs. It was the voice out of his boyish nightmares, the voice drowned in thunder and in rain and sealed behind stone.
"And what about yourself, Nikolai?" the lady asked, drifting closer. Her hair was black. Her gown was black. "Have you no need to be found?"
He backed a pace without thinking about it, but she kept coming until she was as close to him as she had been that day. Wind stirred her gown and her silken sleeves and the dark veil of her hair. She was young and she was beautiful. And her eyes were bottomless.
"Faithful Nikolai. I asked you that day, were you faithful to Stani. And you said yes. Did you know then that was a promise?"
"I've never broken it," he said.
"You're here," she said. "Why?"
"For Stani's sons. For your grandsons." The ground rumbled underfoot. The wind began to blow. He flung up his arm to shield his eyes. "Witch, damn you, rescue the boys, can you do that?"
"But that's why I sent you, Nikolai."
"Sent me!"
"All those years ago. Yes. You climbed down from those stairs safe that night. You had a job to do for me. You've done part of it. But it's not done, Nikolai."
"Where's Yuri? What have you done with him?"
"Not I, Nikolai. Not I. All of us—the witches of the Wood, the goblins and their queen—and the young witch, Mirela. Tamas is my heir. Tamas ... is my heir. And Urzula was not my name."
"Ysabel," he recalled.
"Karoly told you that. Yes, Ysabel, once upon a time. But Urzula is good enough a name for my son to know. Goodbye, and fare exceedingly well, Nikolai."
The lady leaned forward, and rested ghostly hands on his shoulders. He felt the chill even through armor. And touched ghostly lips to his ever so gently.
"I wanted to do that," the ghost said with a wicked wink, and was gone, in a whirl of shadow and pallor, and silence. "One thing more you will do," the voice lingered to say.
"What?" he called after it.
But it was gone, into daylight and ordinary woods.
"Damn!" he cried. "Damn! Lady! What thing am I to do?"
In its silence he walked straight ahead. He could think of no better direction. And if there was a ghost in the world that had reason to guide him to the boys, he believed in this one.
But all he found when he had come over the second leaf-paved hill was a bony old man in a gray cloak on an unlikely shaggy pony.
"Where's Yuri?" he asked the ghost. But it was master Karoly who called out from the bottom of the hillside.
"I don't know. I hoped he was with you."
Nikolai slid down the hill on slick leaves, caught his balance under Gracja's startled nose and snagged the bridle for a look up at the old man. "Not hide nor hair. Only the lady. Your lady. Ladislaw's wife."
"Urzula ..."
"Urzula—Ysabel. You're the wizard, you knew what you were doing when you brought the boys here in the first place. Don't lie to me, Karoly! They're caught up in something you know about. She said Tamas was her heir. She said he's with Mirela. What in hell did she mean?"
"Oh, god."
"What did she mean, Karoly? You know, don't you, you damned well know!"
"She didn't say a thing about Tamas. She named Yuri, to me. But there's not a shred of magic in him, I couldn't find it in any of the boys and she never got a daughter—which she could have. Witches can do that."
"I don't doubt it," Nikolai said glumly.
"Deception I can understand. Her whole life was deception. Krukczy Straz was the only guard on that border. But, god save us ... Mirela? Are you sure that's what she said? That that's who Tamas is with?"
"The same name as you said. Mirela. I didn't forget it."
Karoly said nothing more. Karoly climbed down from the saddle, and Gracja shied and pulled at the reins, nervous about something, ears flicking one way and another. Nikolai held fast to the reins and paid his attention to master Karoly, who seemed to have sudden interest in the treetops, or the weather.
"Tamas isn't a boy to set in a hard situation," Nikolai protested. "Nice boy—but he hasn't the toughness—god, Yuri's more resourceful than he is, the boy's shown it. Why did she settle on Tamas?"
"It's not settling, master huntsman. You don't settle on being a wizard. It's what you're born."
"Then why didn't you see it?"
"You're not listening, master huntsman. Urzula may not have known. Magic has its ways of tricking everyone, most especially those next to it. I'd have bet on Yuri myself—but that's evidently not the way it is."