The thought that they might effect the rescue - soon, safely, easily - went through Cappen in a wave of dizziness. Afterwards - he and Jamie had discussed that. If the temple hierophants, from Hazroah on down, were put under immediate arrest, that ought to dispose of the vengeance problem.
Gravel scrunched underfoot. Rose, jasmine, honeysuckle sweetened the air. Fountains leaped and chimed. The partners reached the main door. It was oaken, with many glass eyes inset; the knocker had the shape of a sikkintair.
Jamie leaned his spear, unsheathed his sword, turned the knob left-handed, and swung the door open. A maroon sumptuousness of carpet, hangings, upholstery brooded beyond. He and Cappen entered. Inside were quietness and an odour like that just before a thunderstorm.
A man in a deacon's black robe came through an archway, his tonsure agleam in the dimness*'Did I hear - Oh!' he gasped, and scuttled backwards.
Jamie made a long arm and collared him. 'Not so fast, friend,' the warrior said genially. 'We've a request, and if you oblige, we won't get stains on this pretty rug. Where are your guests?'
'What, what, what,' the deacon gobbled.
Jamie shook him, in leisured wise lest he quite dislocate the shoulder. 'Lady Rosanda, wife to Molin Torchholder, and her assistant Danlis. Take us to them. Oh, and we'd liefer not meet folk along the way. It might get messy if we did.'
The deacon fainted.
'Ah, well,' Jamie said. 'I hate the idea of cutting down unarmed men, but chances are they won't be foolhardy.' He filled his lungs. 'Rosanda!' he bawled. 'Danlis! Jamie and Cappen Varra are here! Come on home!'
The volume almost bowled his companion over. 'Are you mad?' the minstrel exclaimed. 'You'll warn the whole staff -' A flash lit his mind: if they had seen no further guards, surely there were none, and nothing corporeal remained to fear. Yet every minute's delay heightened the danger of something else going wrong. Somebody might find signs of invasion back in the temple; the gods alone knew what lurked in this realm ... Yes, Jamie's judgement might prove mistaken, but it was the best he could have made.
Servitors appeared, and recoiled from naked steel. And then, and then -
Through a doorway strode Danlis. She led by the hand, or dragged, a half hysterical Rosanda. Both were decently attired and neither looked abused, but pallor in cheeks and smudges under eyes bespoke what they must have suffered.
Cappen came nigh dropping his spear. 'Beloved!' he cried. 'Are you hale?'
'We've not been ill-treated in the flesh, aside from the snatching itself,' she answered efficiently. 'The threats, should Hazroah not get his way, have been cruel. Can we leave now?'
'Aye, the soonest, the best,' Jamie growled. 'Lead them on ahead, Cappen.' His sword covered the rear. On his way out, he retrieved the spear he had left.
They started back over the garden paths. Danlis and Cappen between them must help Rosanda along. That woman's plump prettiness was lost in tears, moans, whimpers, and occasional screams. He paid scant attention. His gaze kept seeking the clear profile of his darling. When her grey eyes turned towards him, his heart became a lyre.
She parted her lips. He waited for her to ask in dazzlement, 'How did you ever do this, you unbelievable, wonderful men?'
'What have we ahead of us?' she wanted to know.
Well, it was an intelligent query. Cappen swallowed disappointment and sketched the immediate past. Now, he said, they'd return via the gate to the dome and make their stealthy way from the temple, thence to Molin's dwelling for a joyous reunion. But then they must act promptly - yes, roust the Prince out of bed for authorization - and occupy the temple and arrest everybody in sight before new trouble got fetched from this world.
Rosanda gained some self-control as he talked. 'Oh, my, oh, my,' she wheezed, 'you unbelievable, wonderful men.'
An ear-piercing trill slashed across her voice. The escapers looked behind them. At the entrance to the house stood a thickset middle-aged person in the scarlet robe of a ranking priest of Ils. He held a pipe to his mouth and blew. 'Hazroah!' Rosanda shrilled. 'The ringleader!'
'The High Flamen -' Danlis began.
A rush in the air interrupted. Cappen flung his vision skyward and knew the nightmare was true. The sikkintair was descending. Hazroah had summoned it.
'Why, you son of a bitch!' Jamie roared. Still well behind the rest, he lifted his spear, brought it back, flung it with his whole strength and weight. The point went home in Hazroah's breast. Ribs did not stop it. He spouted blood, crumpled, and spouted no more. The shaft quivered above his body.
But the sikkintair's vast wings eclipsed the sun. Jamie rejoined his band and plucked the second spear from Cappen's fingers. 'Hurry on, lad/he ordered. 'Get them to safety.'
'Leave you? No!' protested his comrade. Jamie spat an oath. 'Do you want the whole faring to've gone for naught? Hurry, I said!'
Danlis tugged at Cappen's sleeve. 'He's right. The state requires our testimony.'
Cappen stumbled onward. From time to time he glanced back. In the shadow of the wings, Jamie's hair blazed. He stood foursquare, spear grasped as a huntsman does. Agape, the Flying Knife rushed down upon him. Jamie thrust straight between those jaws, and twisted.
The monster let out a sawtoothed shriek. Its wings threshed, made thundercrack, it swooped by, a foot raked. Jamie had his claymore out. He parried the blow.
The sikkintair rose. The shaft waggled from its throat. It spread great ebon membranes, looped, and came back earthward. Its claws were before it. Air whirred behind.
Jamie stood his ground, sword in right hand, knife in left. As the talons smote, he fended them off with the dirk. Blood sprang from his thigh, but his byrnie took most of the edged sweep. And his sword hewed. The sikkintair ululated again. It tried to ascend, and couldn't.
Jamie had crippled its left wing. It landed - Cappen felt the impact through soles and bones - and hitched itself towards him. From around the spear came a geyser hiss.
Jamie held fast where he was. As fangs struck at him, he sidestepped, sprang back, and threw his shoulders against the shaft. Leverage swung jaws aside. He glided by the neck towards the forequarters. Both of his blades attacked the spine.
Cappen and the women hastened on.
They were almost at the pergola when footfalls drew his eyes rearwards. Jamie loped at an overtaking pace. Behind him, the sikkintair lay in a heap.
The redhead pulled alongside. 'Hai, what a fight!' he panted. 'Thanks for this journey, friend! A drinking bout's worth of thanks!'
They mounted the death-defiled stairs. Cappen peered across miles. Wings beat in heaven, from the direction of the mountains. Horror stabbed his guts. 'Look!' He could barely croak.
Jamie squinted. 'More of them,' he said. 'A score, maybe. We can't cope with so many. An-army couldn't.'
'That whistle was heard farther away than mortals would hear,' Danlis added starkly.
'What do we linger for?' Rosanda wailed. 'Come, take us home!'
'And the sikkintairs follow?' Jamie retorted. 'No. I've my lassies, and kinfolk, and -' He moved to stand before the parchment. Edged metal dripped in his hands; red lay splashed across helm, ringmail, clothing, face. His grin broke forth, wry. 'A spaewife once told me I'd die on the far side of strangeness. I'll wager she didn't know her own strength.'
'You assume that the mission of the beasts is to destroy us, and when that is done they will return to their lairs.' The tone Danlis used might have served for a remark about the weather.