The first room she reached puzzled her. The cracks and that would normally permit her to look into it had been filled or masked.
She thought for a moment, re-ering the trick to getting into this particular apart-and twisted a carved knob. A panel swung open, and stepped into the room of Jagd of Uda. Fortu-, he wasn’t home. She knew instantly to whom it be-, by the scarlet and purple cloaks that draped from the walls. Bronwynn smirked. Jagd had ever been the type.
In this environment he did well to be. Bronwynn slipped back into her hiding place and closed it panel behind her. She squeezed around another corner, ting her way by the dim light that filtered through tiny cks from the rooms on either side of this aisle. She a second guest room and found her vision unob-Ijrtructed. Once again, it was unoccupied at the moment. fpBhe recognized nothing that gave any hint of the one to it belonged. A quick pull on a hidden latch, and
|llronwynn danced lightly inside, moving quietly to the set. She found it filled with new clothes, imaginatively fled and richly colored. She held up a tunic to measure size of the shoulders and felt a fierce satisfaction. icse were Rosha’s new clothes, specially tailored for the isort of the Queen. At the moment, this was where the mudgecurdle was living. Well, here he would die as well. Bronwynn swiftly hung the garment back onto its hook, slipped her dagger from its sheath, and backed into the closet. She only had to wait a few moments.
The blow should have killed him. It didn’t. The summer before, when Rosha first left his father’s manor in the company of Bronwynn and Pelmen, Dorlyth mod Karis had given his son the chain-mail shirt he had worn himself throughout his adventures. Now, that shirt saved his son’s life. It turned the dagger, though Rosha’s covering garment was sheared into tatters, and Bronwynn cursed her own poor memory for not having planned a better stroke.
Rosha didn’t think. He simply grabbed his assailant by the arm and tossed her across the room. Only after he’d launched her past his head did he realize who she was, “Bronwynn!” he grunted. More emotions were summed in that one grunt than in any phrase the young man had ever uttered before.
“Did you call me?” Carlad shouted from the hall.
“No!” Rosha called back, stepping over to hold the doors should the man attempt to investigate. “N-nothing. G-g-go back to what you were doing.”
Bronwynn had by that time rolled to her feet and, seeing his back turned, charged him again. Rosha heard her coming and sidestepped her at the last moment. The blade of her weapon thudded heavily into the wood of the door jamb. The young warrior knocked the girl’s hand away from its haft before she could jerk it free, picked her up, and once again tossed her across the room. This time, however, he made sure to aim her for the bed.
“Are you sure everything’s all right?” Carlad shouted again, and Rosha opened one of the doors and stuck his head into the hall. His sleepy guard looked rather perplexed. Rosha gave him a friendly smile. “No p-p-problem,” he said cheerfully, and he waved. Then he slammed the door shut and whirled in time to see Bronwynn’s foot heading for his forehead. He ducked, and it thumped noisily on the wall behind him. He caught her on the way down. She clawed for his face as he carried her once more to the bed and dropped her there.
The pounding on his door grew more animated, and Rosha rushed to swing it open. “What do you want?” he demanded angrily.
“Is there someone in there with you?” Carlad squinted suspiciously, craning his head to peer around Rosha’s large bulk.
“If there is, whose fault would it b-b-be?” Rosha responded.
“Ah…” The guard didn’t know quite what to answer, and Rosha rushed on:
“There’s n-no one in here b-but me, as you well kn-know! Now leave m-me alone, or I’ll tell your sergeant about your acting career!”
He slammed the door and turned to face Bronwynn once again. He’d heard her scuttle across the floor behind him and knew she was working to free the knife from the wall, Once again he grabbed her, this time less gently, and hurled her at the bed with a grunt. She bounced over it onto the floor. By the time she could recover, he was standing over her, her knife in his hand and a savage frown darkening his features.
“Well, go ahead,” she flared. “Stab me with it.”
“What’s the matter with you?” he demanded.
“You might as well. I’m sure the Queen will reward you richly though of course, since you have her, what other reward could you want?”
“Would you keep your voice down ”
“Why should I? You’ll give me to her anyway—”
“Shut up!” he spat, slamming his free hand over her mouth. He tossed the dagger aside and grabbed the back of her head with his other hand and held her quiet while she did everything in her power to make noise. She beat at his head, kicked his legs, rolled from side to side, and tried to I bite through his hand. Through it all, Rosha held onto her, absorbing the blows without blinking, staring fiercely into her face.
She couldn’t keep it up forever. Finally she relaxed, and he began in a heated whisper: “I get the impression you think I want to be here. I don’t! You think I want that witch? All I can think about is you, yet you try to stick a knife in my b-b-b in me.” He sighed in exasperation. “Why do you think I’ve got guards at my door? It’s because I’m a prisoner here.”
All he could see of her face were her eyes. They suddenly watered over, and he decided to let her speak.
“You’re moving into her room tomorrow,” she spat out, and he clamped his hand back in place and looked at the door.
“Not if Pelmen and I can help it,” he muttered. Her eyes widened. He lifted his hand.
“Pelmen is here?” she asked. For the first time, she whispered.
“He is. Disguised as a jester, and using the name Fallomar.” Rosha frowned, as he remembered his friend’s absence. “That is, I hope he’s here. He went below the castle last night, and hasn’t yet come up.”
Bronwynn’s face clouded with concern. “But there’s a battle below the castle going on right now. That’s how I got in.”
“A battle? Who’s battling whom?”
“Isn’t Joss down there ”
“No,” Rosha blurted. “Joss is out chasing Admon Faye all over the countryside.”
“But Admon Faye’s in the caverns ” Bronwynn stopped, and stared at his long face. Rosha suddenly looked very tired. And once again, someone was pounding on the door.
Rosha sighed. Then he stood up. “Hide,” he told her, and Bronwynn quickly got within the wall again as Rosha stalked to the doorway. “Who is it?” he shouted.
“Fallomar the fool, my Lord, come to entertain you and teach you fancy words if the time be appropriate?”
Rosha swung the door open, his face beaming. “Under the circumstances, I c-can’t think of a time that would be b-better. Carlad, let this fool past.” Pelmen swept into the room, and Rosha winked at his guard and patted his cheek. “Remember… disturb us again and I’ll tell him about the white face too…”
As soon as Rosha closed the door behind him, Bronwynn burst from her hiding place and raced to embrace the clown. Pelmen hugged her to him, and both wept but quietly, each one keeping a cautious eye on the door.
Bronwynn cried out of her months of loneliness and frustration, while Pelmen wept in thanksgiving for her safety. Rosha stood to one side, his arms folded across his chest, main taining a reserved smile, but wishing someone would include him in all the hugging. Soon Bronwynn turned and reached out to him, and Pelmen passed the girl to her young warrior. In a few moments she had completely reversed the poor opinions of these two she’d formed over the months of separation. The clandestine nature of Pelmen’s arrival had totally convinced her of Rosha’s sincerity, and if that hadn’t, the bear lock he wrapped her in surely would have. In more than one way, Bronwynn finally felt she’d come home.