Thou dost not aid, Magnus thought, exasperated. Gregory, lad! They do wish to talk! Ask, accuse! But keep them in speech!
Keep them in speech! How? But Gregory plucked up his courage, and tried. "How—how will slaying me, gain thee silver? I have none!"
"A thought," growled another soldier, and he patted Gregory quickly down both sides, then shook his head. " 'Tis as he doth say—he hath no purse."
"Surely not, Clodog!" said Hugh in disgust. "'Tis but a lad, when all's said and done."
" 'Tis a fee," Bertram explained. "They have hired us to slay thee—and thy sister and brothers."
Gregory felt a cold chill spread out from his spine. "Yet— how canst thou know who to slay?"
"Why, the High Warlock's children!" Hugh replied. "How could we mistake thee? All in Gramarye do know of thee— three warlock-lads and a witchling!"
Gregory tried to ignore the mental squawks of rage. "Who —who could have hired thee? Who doth hate us so?"
"Any of thy father's enemies, I warrant," Bertram snorted.
Hugh shrugged. "Who can say who they were? We know only mat three slight, meager men with burning eyes did come
to us, give us silver, and promise us more if we slew thee." He shook his head sadly. " 'Tis a pity—thou dost seem a good enough lad."
"An he were not a warlock," Clodog growled.
"Still, we have need of the silver," Bertram grunted, and he whipped a dagger up.
"Nay, hold!" Gregory stared at the naked blade, terrified. "An they will pay thee silver to slay us, Papa will pay thee more to spare us!"
The dagger hovered, but hesitated. "More?"
"Gold!" Gregory cried in desperation.
"Yet who will pay it?" Hugh scoffed. "Thy father is vanished! So the meager men did say—and so say all we have heard by the roadside!"
"The King!" Gregory gasped. "King Tuan will ransom us!"
The thugs exchanged glances again. "Belike he will," Bertram said slowly. " 'Tis known how the King doth treasure his warlocks."
"I mislike the thought." Another bandit darted glances about the thicket, as though expecting to see King's men pushing through the brambles.
"Eh, he'll not come himself," Hugh growled. "Dost thou think a king to be a page? Nay, belike he'll send a knight."
"With men-at-arms!"
"We'll bid him not to."
Gregory sighed with relief, going limp. Then he saw the glint in Hugh's eye and tensed again.
"Wherefore ought we to take gold for one, when we may have gold for four?" Hugh purred.
Gregory watched him, feeling like a sparrow beset by a snake.
The dagger whipped about and down, its point pricking Gregory's throat. He gasped in horror and froze.
"Call thy brother," Hugh breathed.
Gregory stared at him, wide-eyed. Magnus! He doth wish thee to come, too! Do not—'tis danger!
Mayhap, Magnus thought slowly, yet not for us.
The dagger twisted, pricking deeper. "There is blood on thy throat," Hugh growled. "Summon him!"
Air boomed. Even though they'd known it was coming, the thugs flinched away. Geoffrey stood beside his little brother, his lip twisted with contempt. "He hath summoned. What wilt thou have of me?"
Hugh reddened, and stepped forward again. "What! Is there no more than this?"
Geoffrey set his jaw, eyes narrowing. "Aye, there do be more Gallowglass children. Art truly so foolish as to wish us all here?"
Huge hands seized him, and Hugh snarled, " 'Tis thou who art foolish. Summon thy brother!"
"Be not so hasty," Geoffrey sneered. "I do marvel thou hast the courage for it, sin that thou wast so craven as to flee thy lord!"
The back of Hugh's hand cracked into his cheek. "Mind thy tongue, when thou dost speak to thy betters! Now summon thy Brother!"
"On thy head be it, then," Geoffrey gasped, and thought, Come, brother! The lambs are led to the pen!
Magnus was there, in a crack of thunder. He nodded to Hugh with grave courtesy. "My sibs tell me thou dost wish speech with us."
The soldiers stared, frozen.
Magnus nodded, with sympathy. "Aye, 'tis unnerving. My father hath said he shall never become accustomed to such flittings in and out."
Bertram swore, and set the edge of his dagger against Magnus's throat.
"Hold!" Hugh barked. "We lack yet one!"
"What—my sister? Wouldst thou slay lasses also?"
"Do not seek to school me." Hugh's eyes narrowed. "What I must needs do for a living, I must needs do."
"Thou mayest yet live without slaying children."
Hugh turned and spat. "Hiding in thickets? Sleeping on bracken? Eating roots and berries and, with good fortune, the meat of a badger? 'Tis not what I would call living! For that, I need gold."
"Which thou wilt gain by my blood?"
"Aye, and thy liver and lights, if need be!" Hugh roared. "Now summon thy sister!"
Magnus sighed, and closed his eyes.
Save thine effort. Rage imbued Cordelia's thoughts. I flit to thee already!
And Robin?
He hath gone before, with Kelly! Fess stands ready, too, if needed, but I shall leave my sweet unicorn behind.
"She comes," Magnus reported, "yet more slowly; lasses cannot appear and disappear."
"We'll be done with thee, then," Hugh snarled, and nodded to Bertram. The brute grinned and yanked the dagger back for a stab.
Gregory bleated and twisted; his brothers shouted as his body whiplashed, slamming the thugs who held him against the ground. Bertram's dagger stabbed into bare dirt.
Then a tearing scream pierced their ears, and a missile shot down from the sky to slam into Bertram, knocking him backwards. "Foul beast!" the ten-year-old witch cried. "Wouldst thou then slay babes?"
The other thugs roared and leaped for her—and lurched against something unseen, something that yanked them up to dangle, feet a foot off the ground, as their faces grew purple and they thrashed about in panic—but the only sound that emerged from their throats was a muted gargling.
Hugh stared up at them, pop-eyed; then he whirled and slammed a vicious backhand blow into Magnus's face, knocking him back and away. He yanked Gregory up against him, holding the boy in front of his chest and backing away, his own dagger in his hand. "Stay away! Do not seek to take me—or I'll slit his throat!"
Geoffrey's eyes narrowed, and a rock shot up off the forest floor to crack into Hugh's skull. His arm loosened as his eyes rolled up, and he slumped to the ground.
"Gregory! Art thou hurted?" Cordelia dove for her baby brother, cradling him in her arms; but he stared past her shoulder at the men dangling from the trees, fear and horror in his face. "Cordelia! What hath happed to them?"
Into the ring of hanging thugs strode an eighteen-inch elf, face white with rage. "Hear! Oh men of no heart—as I know thou canst for a minute more, ere thy breath ceases. 'Tis the Puck who doth stand before thee, and elves who ride the high branches above thee, with nooses braided of hundreds of strands of spiders' silk that thou canst see not!"
"Eh! Fell captain!" cried a voice from the leaves, and the children turned to see Kelly strutting on a limb by a small brown person who knelt, guarding an invisible twine. "Shall we harvest this rotting fruit, then?"
"Puck, do not slay them!" Cordelia cried. "They be evil men, yet surely not so evil as that!"
"Be not so certain." Geoffrey stood glaring up, pale and trembling. "They have fled from their brothers in arms. Surely such could do anything, no matter how foul."
But the thrashing was weakening, stilling, and the staring eyes dulled.
Puck nodded at Kelly. "Cut them down."
The Irishman nodded at the brownies, and the thugs fell with a crash. Foot-high elves popped up next to them, slashing with tiny knives, and the deserters' chests rose, slowly.
"They live." Puck spat. "Though I regret it. Still, I would not afright thee too greatly."