Then tiny little pains broke out all over Rod's body. He sat straight up, saying, "Robert, cut that out! Why did I have to have a big broth …" He broke off, looking at the foot-high people all about him. "Who're you?"
"Elves come to keep you awake," said one, "and do not dare to seek sleep again, or we will pinch you sorely."
"That's not nice." Rod shivered. "It's cold."
"This will warm you," said a deep voice, and sure enough, something warm and soft settled around Rod's shoulders. Looking down, he saw it was dark brown fur. He rubbed it, delighting in the feel, then looked up to see a man who stood as high as Rod—except that Rod was sitting. The man was very muscular, wearing a dark green doublet and brown hose under a cloak that looked very warm. There were streaks of gray in his hair under the bowl of his fur hat. "Waken, Rod Gallowglass," he boomed, and touched Rod's forehead with a forefinger.
"I am awake." Rod swatted at the forefinger, then froze. "I am Rod Gallowglass!" He looked about him. "A snowdrift! I was about to go to sleep in a snowdrift!" He looked up at the little man. "Thanks, Brom."
"You will never lack for friends, Rod Gallowglass." Brom smiled. "What brought you to seek sleep in snow?"
"I don't remember." Rod pressed a hand to his forehead. "Yes, that's just it—I didn't remember, didn't remember anything." But he did now and looked up round-eyed. "A man, ten feet tall at least, made of snow, but drifting and blowing like a curtain in the wind! He touched my forehead and I started forgetting things!"
"Father Frost," Brom said grimly. "He comes as the year ages—but he is early."
"No, this pocket of evergreens has aged faster than the rest of the country." Rod shivered. "So have I. It's the frost of age that touched me, not of the year." He looked up at Fess, pulling the fur robe closely around him. 'Thanks for calling for help."
"I rejoice that there was help at hand, Rod."
"We will always be close at hand," piped an elf.
"Be sure that they will," said Brom O'Berin, King of the Elves. "On your feet, Lord Warlock, or you will freeze sitting!"
Rod tried to rise but almost fell back, his legs refusing to straighten—but Brom levered him up somehow, and Fess stepped close so that Rod was able to lean on him as he began to force his legs to move, walking in place. "What did Father Frost do to me, Brom?"
"Froze your memories," said the elven king, "froze the flow of thought so that the ones you treasure could not rise."
Rod nodded. "And you thawed them?"
"Yes, but that will do little good if you stay in this freezing vale." Brom made a stirrup of his hands. "Mount and ride!"
Slowly and with great difficulty, Rod managed to lift his left foot and place it in that stirrup. Brom heaved, and it was even harder to swing the right leg high enough to clear the saddle, but an elf on Fess's hindquarters caught Rod's foot and pushed it over his head, then leaped down as Rod landed in his saddle. He looked down, holding out a hand. "Thanks, Brom—again. Seems I always have something to thank you for." His face tightened. "Especially Gwen."
"Ah, you have remembered your love," Brom said softly. "Let that memory warm you, warlock—but not here. Ride, and rejoin the world of the living." He reached up to swat Fess's hindquarters, raising a resounding BONG!
"High-quality alloy," Rod explained. "Rings just like a bell."
"I am sure Brom knew that, Rod."
Rod looked ahead at Fess. "Yeah, it was his idea of a joke." He looked back at the elven king but saw only a snowdrift churned by dozens of miniature feet. He shivered, as a sudden gust bit through the fur robe, and turned back to Fess. "They've disappeared again."
"Yes, Rod," Fess said, "but the elves will never be far from you."
"I suppose that's good to know." Rod hunched his shoulders against another sudden gust. "I think Father Frost is still trying to get into my head, Fess. How fast can we get down where it's warm again?"
ALEA WENT THROUGH the doorway first, waited for Magnus to clear it, then turned back, closed the door, and dropped the latch. With their suite secure to themselves alone, she turned back to her shield-mate and said, "You've done it again."
Magnus turned, startled. "Done what?"
"Succeeded," Alea said. "Done as your father asked— protected the people of Gramarye from three different threats, all in a matter of days."
Magnus shook his head, still smiling. "It was Alain who turned a mob into a loyal crowd—though Geoffrey's support, and his knights and footmen, might have had something to do with it. It was Dad who showed Diarmid a way to spare Geordie's life and make peace with Anselm and his would-be rebels—and all of my siblings and their spouses who stood against that horde of monsters. Even then, it was Dad who lent that final surge of psionic strength that defeated them."
"And you who drew them all to that riverbank, by going to fight the monsters single-handed—well, with your living shield."
"That was not entirely by my choosing …"
"If you had managed to leave without me, I would have raged at you through eternity! But you knew very well that once you leaped to confront the monsters, your family would follow to save you."
"Not knew it," Magnus protested.
"Don't split hairs with me! Knew or suspected, it came to the same. Besides, it was you who told Geoffrey the peasant army was on the march …"
"He would have found out eventually …"
"… you who saw to it that Gregory and Allouette and Cordelia stood ready to block the anarchists' espers …"
"No one could have kept them away."
"… you who drew word of Geordie's peril out of your sister…"
"After you had told me of it."
"… and you who told your father of Geordie and Rowena's danger."
"He needed something to occupy him, to interest him in this world again."
"Deceive someone else, if you must." Alea stepped close. "But don't try to hoodwink me—I've seen you do it on three planets! You arranged, you manipulated, you orchestrated—and you won!"
"We all won."
"Yes, especially the folk of this planet! You have set another people more firmly than ever on the road to their own form of government."
"My father's form of government, rather," Magnus said with his sardonic smile.
"Not any more," Alea said. "You protected them from the enemies who tried to conquer and subvert them, but you didn't try to lead them down your own road. You left them free to choose their own way."
"Yes," Magnus said, "and by some coincidence, that turned out to be the way Dad chose for them thirty years ago."
"Was it?" Alea demanded. "Or did he, too, only leave them free to work out their own system?"
Magnus was still, eyes widening. Then slowly, he nodded. "Perhaps," he said softly. "Perhaps he did." Then the sardonic smile came back. "Even so, he knew what he was doing, knew it very well."
She heard the bitterness in his voice, stepped even closer, said softly, "He's proud of you, Magnus. You've done what you said you would, and not a jot more."
"Yes, I have, haven't I?" He looked into her eyes, and the sardonic smile turned rueful. "Whether I wanted to or not, I've proved myself to be a true son of the old agent!"
ALLOUETTE CAME DOWN the hall toward the chamber she shared with Gregory while they were in the royal castle. As she placed her hand on the latch, a steward came up to her, stopping and bowing with an ingratiating smile. "My lady?"
Allouette frowned, repelled by the man's obsequiousness. "What would you, goodman?"
"A word of warning." The serving man straightened, and the ingratiating smile turned mocking.
Fear and anger chilled Allouette; she scowled. "Why should I need warning?"
"So that your husband does not learn the truth about you," the man said. "I am Durer."
Alouette frowned, puzzled, then remembered that before she was born, Durer had been the chief of a mission whose palace revolution had failed.
Durer saw the recognition in her widening eyes and laughed softly. "Yes, when my commanders learned that the High Warlock had … retired, and become disabled by grief, they sent me into the future to this time, to finish what I had begun."