Malcolm stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Have you considered sending to Castle Norgate for help?"
Will shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "I have," he replied. "But Keren has the road sealed off. No riders are getting through."
Malcolm's observers had reported that riders heading west were being stopped and turned back.
"Except his own," Malcolm replied."A rider left Macindaw while you were away."
Will nodded gloomily. "Keren's no fool. I'll wager he's reported that Orman is a traitor and has run off, leaving Keren to keep Macindaw safe. That's what I'd do in his place. The trouble is, he's well liked and respected. They'll be inclined to believe him. Whereas I'm a stranger. What's more, I'm in league with an accused traitor and a known sorcerer."
"But you're a King's Ranger," Malcolm said.
" They don't know that. My presence here was a secret." Will laughed at the thought. "Let's assume I could get a message through, and let's assume they don't dismiss it out of hand. What do you think they might do?"
Malcolm considered for a moment."Send soldiers to help us?" he suggested, but Will shook his head.
"It's winter. Their army is dispersed to their homes. It would take a couple of weeks to assemble them. It's a big undertaking, and they're not going to do that on a stranger's say-so. The best we could hope for is they might send someone to investigate, to find out who's telling the truth. And even that will take at least two weeks – it's a week there and another week back, after all."
Malcolm pulled a wry face. " There's not much we can do, is there?"
"We're not exactly helpless," Will told him. "With twenty-five
Skandians, we can cause Keren quite a bit of trouble. Then, once I have some concrete evidence, we'll send word to Norgate."
He paused, frowning heavily. He wished he was a little more experienced in matters like this. He was the most junior Ranger in the Corps and, truth be told, he was uncertain that he was taking the right path. But Halt had always taught him to gather as much information as possible before taking action.
For the twentieth time in the past few days, he wished he could contact Halt. But Alyss's pigeon handler seemed to have disappeared from the district. Run off by Buttle and his men, most likely, he thought gloomily, then shook off the negative thoughts with an effort.
"So, what else has been going on while I've been away?" he asked.
He drained his coffee and looked hopefully at the pot. Malcolm, who was aware that his supply of coffee beans was running low, studiously ignored the hint, and the quiet sigh that followed it. He shuffled through a few sheets of notes that he had taken when his spies had reported in.
"There were a couple of things," he said. "Your friend Alyss has been showing a light at her window for the past two nights."
That news took Will's mind off the coffee. The young man sat straight up in his chair.
"A light?" he said eagerly. "What kind of light?"
Malcolm shrugged."Looks like just a simple lantern. But it moves around the window."
"From corner to corner?" Will asked. Malcolm looked up from his notes, surprised.
"Yes," he said. "How did you know that?"
Will was smiling broadly now. "She's using the Courier's signal code," he said."I guess she knows that sooner or later, I'll be watching. When does she do this?"
Malcolm didn't need to consult the notes this time."Usually after the midnight watch has changed – around three in the morning. The moon's well down by then, so the light is easier to make out."
"Good!" said Will. "That gives me time to get a message prepared. I'm a little rusty on the code," he added, apologetically."Haven't had to use it since my fourth-year assessment. You said there were a couple of items?" he prompted.
Malcolm shuffled the pages again. "Oh yes. One of my people saw Buttle and his men talking to a warrior by Tumbledown Creek the other morning. He thought they might be recruiting him, but the warrior seemed to send them packing. Then he rode off himself. I believe he's taken a room at the Cracked Flagon."
This news was less riveting, Malcolm saw.
Will, his thoughts already composing a message to Alyss, asked absently, "Could your man make out the warrior's blazon?"
"A blue fist. He was a free lance. Had a blue fist on a white shield. A round buckler."
That piece of news definitely engaged the Ranger's attention. He looked up quickly.
"Anything else? Was he young or old?"
"Quite young, apparently. Surprisingly so, in fact. A big fellow, riding a big bay. My chap was close enough to hear him talk to the horse. Called him Nicker or Whicker or something like that."
"Kicker?" said Will, a giant ray of hope dawning inside him.
Malcolm nodded."Yes. That could be it. Makes more sense than Nicker, doesn't it? Do you know him?" he added. From Will's delighted reaction, it was obvious that he did.
"Oh, I think I might," he said. "And if it's who I think it is, things just took a big turn for the better."
4
Alone in her tower prison, Alyss was waiting for the moon to set. She judged that there was still an hour to go and set about making her simple preparations.
She lit the oil lamp, keeping the wick as low as possible. She had already placed a rolled-up blanket along the bottom of the door to prevent any light being seen by the guards in the room outside. When the little flame settled and burned steadily, she concealed it beneath one of the ridiculous conical hats she'd brought as part of her disguise as the wealthy but empty-headed Lady Gwendolyn.
"Knew I'd find a use for these stupid things," she muttered to herself.
Earlier in the day, Alyss's belongings had been returned to her – after they'd been searched, of course. Consequently, she had changed back into her own simple, elegant white gown, forsaking the ornate fashions that were suited to her false identity. She was glad to be wearing her own clothes again, glad to throw off the identity of the airheaded Lady Gwendolyn. She was also relieved to find that her writing satchel, with sheets of parchment, pen and ink and graphite chalks, was in her baggage as well.
She pulled the heavy curtain back and set the lamp on the floor below the window, tossing the tall hat to one side. She set herself to search the darkness outside, concentrating particularly on the irregular line that marked where the black mass of the forest began. For the moment, there was no sign of any reply to the signals she had been sending for the past two nights. But she had been schooled in patience, and she waited and watched calmly. Sooner or later, she knew, Will would try to make contact again. As she waited, she thought back over events of the past few days.
Since the attempt to rescue her, Keren had submitted her to one more interrogation session, using his blue gemstone to hypnotize her and see if she were hiding any further secrets.
It rapidly became obvious that there were none. At least, none that he thought to ask her about. That was the one shortcoming of hypnotism. Alyss would answer freely any questions he asked, unable to hide facts or lie to him. But she would not offer information unless she was prompted. Consequently, in answer to his questions, she had told him all about how Will and she had been assigned to investigate the rumors of sorcery in Norgate Fief, and the mysterious illness that had struck down its commander, Lord Syron. She had also revealed the fact that Will was a Ranger, not a jongleur.
Under normal circumstances, Alyss would have been aghast that she had revealed secrets like these. But of course she was telling Keren little that he didn't already know. Buttle had already revealed her identity, and had quickly guessed that Will was no jongleur, but a King's Ranger. Nothing she said to Keren could do them any harm now. Aside from his determination to rescue her, she had no detailed knowledge of Will's plans.