As THE GATES closed behind Fank, Bowgentle descended the stairs and there was an odd expression on his kindly features. He walked stiffly, and his eyes had a distant look.
"What is it, Bowgentle," Count Brass said in concern, moving forward to grip his old friend by the arm. "You seem disturbed."
Bowgentle shook his head. "Not disturbedresolute. I have reached a decision. It is many years since I have wielded a weapon larger than a pen, borne anything weightier than a difficult problem in philosophy. Now I will bear arms against Londra. I will ride with you when you set out against the Dark Empire."
"But Bowgentle," Hawkmoon said, "you are not a warrior. You comfort us, sustain us with your kindness and your wisdom. All these things give us strength and are as useful as any comrade in arms."
"Ayebut this fight will be the last fight, win or lose," Bowgentle reminded him. "If you do not return, then you'll have no need of wisdomand if you do return, you'll have but little inclination to seek my advice, for you'll be the men who broke the Dark Empire. So I will take up a blade. One of yonder mirror helms will fit me, I know. The one with the black crest"
He stood aside as Bowgentle went to the helm and picked it up. Slowly he lowered it over his head. It fitted perfectly. Reflected in the helm they could see what Bowgentle sawtheir own faces at once admiring and grim.
D'Averc was the first to step forward with his hand outstretched. "Very well, Bowgentle. It will be a pleasure to ride with someone of sophisticated wit for a change!"
Hawkmoon frowned. "It is agreed. If you wish to, Bowgentle, we shall all be happier for your riding with us. But who is the other helm for, I wonder?"
"It is for me."
The voice was low, firm, sweet. Hawkmoon turned slowly to stare at his wife.
"No, it is not for you, Yisselda…"
"How can you be sure?"
"Well…"
"Look at itthe helm with the white crest. Is it not smaller than the others. Suitable for a boyor a woman."
"Aye," Hawkmoon answered reluctantly.
"And am I not Count Brass's daughter?"
"You are."
"And cannot I ride as well as any of you?"
"You can."
"And did I not fight in the bullring as a girland win honour there? And did I not train with the guardians of the Kamarg in the arts of the axe, the sword and the Same lance? Father?"
"It is true, she was proficient in all these arts," Count Brass said soberly. "But proficiency is not all that is required of a warrior…"
"Am I not strong?"
"Ayefor a woman…" answered the Lord of Castle Brass. "Soft and as strong as silk, I believe a local poet said," he glanced sardonically at Bowgentle, who blushed.
"Is it stamina, then, that I lack?" Yisselda asked, her eyes flashing with a mixture of defiance and humour.
"Noyou have more than enough stamina," Hawkmoon said.
"Courage? Do I lack courage?"
"There is none more courageous than you, my child," Count Brass agreed.
"Then what quality do I lack that a warrior has?"
Hawkmoon shrugged his shoulders. "None, Yisselda save that you are a woman andand…"
"And women do not fight. They merely remain at the fireside to mourn their lost kin, is that it?"
"Or welcome them back…"
"Or welcome them back. Well, I have no patience with that scheme of things. Why should I remain behind at Castle Brass. Who will protect me?"
"We will leave guards."
"A few guardsguards you will need in your battle. You know very well that you will want every man with you."
"Aye, that's true," Hawkmoon said. "But there is one other factor, Yisselda. Do you forget that you carry our child?"
"I do not forget. I carry our child. Aye, and I'll carry it into battlefor if we are defeated there will be nothing for it to inherit save disasterand if we win then it will know the thrill of victory even before it comes into the world. But if we are all slainthen we shall die together. I'll not be Hawkmoon's widow and I'll not bear Hawkmoon's orphan. I will not be safe at Castle Brass alone, Dorian, I'll ride with you." She went to the mirror helm with the white crest and she picked it up. She drew it over her head and spread her soft arms triumphantly.
"Seeit fits perfectly. It was plainly made for me. We will ride together, the six of us, and lead the Kamargians against the massed might of the Dark Empirefive heroesand, I hope, one heroine!"
"So be it," murmured Hawkmoon moving forward to embrace his wife. "So be it"
Chapter Six
A New Ally
THE WOLVES AND the Vultures had fought their way back from the Continent and were now pouring into Londra. Coming into Londra, too, were the Flies, the Rats, the Goats and the Hounds and all the other bloodthirsty beasts of Granbretan.
From a high tower, now his command headquarters, Meliadus of Kroiden watched them arrive, flooding in by every gate and battling as they came. One group puzzled him and he strained his eyes to see it better. It was a large detachment of troops riding under a black and white striped banner signifying neutrality. The banner carried beside it now became easier to see.
Meliadus frowned.
The banner was that of Adaz Promp, Grand Constable of the Order of the Hound. Did the neutral flag mean that he had not yet decided on whose side to fight? Or did it mean he planned a complicated trick? Meliadus rubbed his lips thoughtfully. With Adaz Promp on his side he could begin an assault on the palace itself. He reached for his wolf helm and stroked the metal head.
For the past few days as the battle for Londra had reached deadlock Meliadus had become pensivethe more so because he did not know if Taragorm's device had succeeded and brought Castle Brass back to its own dimension. His earlier good humour, based on his success in the initial fighting, had been replaced by a nervousness resulting from several uncertainties.
The door opened. Automatically Meliadus reached for his helm, donning it as he turned.
"Ah, it's you, Flana. What do you want?"
"Taragorm is here."
"Taragorm, eh? Has he something positive to tell me."
The clock mask appeared behind Flana's heron mask.
"I had hoped that you would have some positive news, brother," Taragorm said acidly. "After all, we have made no great gains for the past few days."
"The reinforcements are arriving," Meliadus said petulantly, waving his gauntletted hand at the window. "Wolves and Vultures pouring inand even some Ferrets."
"Ayereinforcements for Huon, tooand seemingly in larger numbers than ours."
"Kalan should have his new weapons ready soon," Meliadus said defensively. "They will give us an advantage."
"If they work." Taragorm spoke sardonically. "I am beginning to wonder if I have not made a mistake, joining you. You struck too impetuously…"
"Brother! We must not quarrel, or we're finished. There is no time now!"
"Aye, that I'll grant you. If Huon wins we're all doomed."
"Huon will not win."
"We need a million men to attack the palace and succeed."
"We'll find a million men. If only we can make a little headway, others will come over to our side."
Taragorm ignored this statement and turned instead to Flana. "It is a shame, Flana. You would have made a beautiful queen…"
"She will still make a queen," Meliadus said savagely, restraining himself from striking Taragorm. "Your pessimism amounts to treachery, Taragorm!"
"And will you slay me for my treachery, brother? With all my knowledge. Only I know all the secrets of Time."
Meliadus shrugged. "Of course I will not slay you. Let us cease this arguing and concentrate instead on winning the palace."
Bored by the quarrel, Flana left the room.
"I must see Kalan," Meliadus said. "He has suffered a setback, having to remove all his equipment to a new site so hastily. Come, Taragorm, we'll visit him together."