11

"So what will be your escape route?" Sir Alt asked.

"I won't tell you," Hal said, "because it's one that only I can use."

"Those tend to be the riskiest," Hofei said.

"I'll tell you… in time," Hal said. "I just wanted to tell you that I'm planning something. Right now, I need some things: pen, ink, paper."

"Easily done."

"Then I need to know who're the traitors in here."

"We have none," Hofei said, a bit snippily.

"Come now," Hal said. "Someone—most likely several someones—have got to be talking to Patiala, or one of his men, in exchange for better quarters, food, or whatever. Let's not call them traitors, but, maybe, people who aren't as strong as they should be, or maybe aren't aware they're being played like a fish."

After a moment, Hofei grudged, "We have two… perhaps three."

"Who're their best friends?"

"No one with any decency will associate with them."

"You're doing it wrong," Hal said mildly. "You should have your people start cultivating them. It's always good to have some kind of subtle line in that you can use to your own ends."

Hofei looked at Kailas carefully.

"You're not just a dragon flier, are you?"

"I'm somebody who plans on being alive when all this is over," Kailas said. "And I'll use any talent I can think of to make sure of it."

Hofei nodded slowly.

"I have some strong-stomached men—and a woman—in mind."

"Good," Hal said. "I'll want them to leak something scandalous in time."

"What?"

"In time," Hal said. "And the second thing I need is any prisoner who knows anything about magic."

"We have no one," Hofei said. "All wizards—or anyone with any Talent—were purged before they got here."

"There's always somebody," Hal said stubbornly. "I have a man in my squadron who's a bit of a witch. His grandfather was a full-fledged one.

Sometimes my man can cast a small spell, sometimes nothing happens.

But he'd never claim to be a wizard. That's the sort of person I'm looking for."

"I honestly don't know of anyone," Hofei said. "If there is, he or she is bound to be keeping it secret. But I'll see what I can come up with."

"Good," Hal said. "Now, if you'll get me my writing materials, I'll set to work."

"Might I ask what you're going to be writing?"

"My confessions."

He smiled sweetly.

A day later, the writing materials were delivered, and then Hal set to work, spending hours sitting in his cell, writing away.

He told no one what he was writing, other than this was his after-the-war money machine.

Since diaries and such were forbidden, Hal hid the paper in a hollowed-out leg of his cot.

Some of the noble prisoners sniffed—a man who'd been so favored by the king with vast estates should hardly be worried about gold, as if he were no better than a tradesman.

But they kept their councils to themselves…

"I think I may have someone," Hofei said. "One of our civilian internees has an interesting background. You might be interested in talking to him."

"I am, indeed," Hal said, and the next day Sir Alt brought the man by.

He was young, thin, quite tall, most shy, and looked as if he'd be happier as a priest, or perhaps an archivist, Hal thought.

The man was Mav Dessau, eldest son of Baron Dessau of Anhewei, a title even Kailas had heard of.

"I don't know if my father still lives," Dessau said. "He was doing poorly when I left on my travels. Have you…?"

Hal said, apologetically, that he knew little about the nobility, and hadn't kept up with their lives.

"So I suppose I'll continue on as the eldest," Dessau said. "No more.

Which doesn't displease my father, since he considered me a bit of a disappointment."

"Ah?"

"I love to study, to learn," and enthusiasm glowed in Dessau's voice.

"At one time," and here he looked about Hal's cell, as if there were an eavesdropper crouched under the wooden cots, "I wanted to be a thaumaturge.

"They said I had a bit of the Talent, and I'd been accepted by a tutor.

When my father heard of this, he raged, and cut off my allowance, and swore he'd disinherit me. I should have told him to make one of his prize bulls the next baron, for it mattered… matters… little to me.

"But I'm afraid I'm a coward. I suppose any of us who come from wealth are always terrified that we'll be cast loose on our own, and that our devices shall not be sufficient.

"So I dropped that field of study, and decided that I would become an architect, a master builder, and that there might be a future amalgamating the styles of Deraine, Sagene and Roche.

"I was studying in Carcaor when the war started. Since my father is one of King Asir's strongest supporters, Queen Norcia thought I would make a good hostage.

"And so here I am, with nothing more to study than a damned monolith like this swamp of a castle."

"I think I might have something more for you," Hal said. "Something in the way of wizardry."

"Magic? As I said, I know very little, although I've read much, but haven't the training. And—" Again came the frightened look. "I do not wish to be sent to… to wherever the captive wizards were sent.

"To be eaten by dragons, I suppose. Or demons."

Dessau took a deep breath.

"But I suppose I have no choice. Patriotism, and all that.

"So I'll try to do whatever you wish, although you'll most likely be disappointed by my best.

"And I'll ask but one favor. If you make good your escape, would you mind visiting my father? Or my brothers, if the baron has passed on?"

"I'll do better than that," Hal said. "If I make it back to Deraine, I'll hunt the baron up and tell him that it was your magical abilities that made it possible to escape."

Dessau smiled.

"Thank you. I'd just like to be there to see his face when the Dragonmaster, Lord Kailas, tells him that."

Sir Suiyan Tutuila came to the castle, summoned Hal, asked if he wished to confess, saying if he did, Tutuila and Ky Yasin would intercede at Kailas's trial, assuming he was willing to cooperate.

Hal made no response, just stared at Tutuila until the exasperated inquisitor ordered him returned to his cell.

The next part of Hal's conspiracy was having the little prisoner of war who was Ungava the magician's reluctant servant visit his cell.

"Ah knows nofing, nofing, about magic, or magicking," the man, who had only the single name of Wolda, swore. He was very nervous, hardly used to being in the company of a noted nobleman.

But Kailas hadn't been a cavalry warrant and then a unit commander without learning a few ways to put men at their ease.

He drew Wolda out about the small island he'd grown up on, off the west coast of Deraine, where he'd fished before deciding to join up, to end up on a coastal patrol boat.

Hal told him about Khiri's estates, and her village fishermen, although, of course, without sounding like he'd ever lorded it over them. He told Wolda about seeing the flotillas of dragons, on the water with their wings folded over their heads like tents, coming from the west.

"Ah've seen them too," Wolda nodded. "We used to try to reckon what they were comin't frae, where they was goin't, with not a clue."

Hal told Wolda about the time he'd tried fishing for a living, and how it was too much for him, and after the small man recovered from his surprise that a mighty lord had ever baited a hook, let alone run one into his palm, and said, "Ay, they say'n you're t'be born t'it. An' Ah'm hopin Ah lives, an' gets back t'it. Ah misses th' sea."

Wolda recovered a bit of his suspicion, and asked Hal why he'd summoned him.

"Because I'm hoping you'll help me get off this damned rock," Kailas said.

"Ah doubt there's aught Ah might do."

"You're Ungava's assistant."

"On'y 'cause Ah was told to it."

"I need to know a couple of spells," Hal said.

"Nah, nah. Ah'm no wizard."

"Do you remember what Ungava says, when he takes the irons off a new prisoner?"

"Cours't. Tha's simple. He rubs oil, which Ah've got in a vial, on his fingers, not lettin' anyone see it. Then he whisper 't, 'Chain, bend, steel, work, uncoil, uncoil.'"

"That seems simple," Hal said. "Could I work it?"

"He told me once't Ah could, so Ah'd wager so," Wolda said. "Course, y'd need a bit of th' oil."

"Could you steal some of it for me?"

Wolda looked frightened.

"He tol't me once if Ah did him false, he'd change me int' a sea monsker." Wolda took a deep breath. "But Ah'll help. Th' oil, for your learnin', is made of some kind of rock serpent from th' east."

"That's one thing I need," Hal said. "The second is the spell he casts to keep us confused."

"Ah'm noo lyin't," Wolda said. "Ah dinna know it. He whispers it close."

Hal made a face, and his hopes sank. Then he had an idea.

"You know what hypnosis is?"

"Cours't," Wolda said. "Afore m'boat sank, and th' Roches caught me, went to a turn one night, an' they had a woman. Fair, she was, and she put spells, but said it was hypnotizing, on m'mate, and made him think he was a woman, and should be kissin't th' skipper.

"Fair laughed till Ah 'most pissed myself, Ah did."

"Would you be willing to be hypnotized," Hal said, "and have somebody ask about that spell? They say everything you hear, or see, gets tucked away in your mind, and needs only a little prodding to come out."

"Ah dunno," Wolda said. "I don't think—"

Hal cut him off before he could refuse.

"Go think about it. And remember, if I get out, you'll be one step closer to being home, and back on your boat, fishing."

Wolda licked his lips, looked piteously at Hal, but Kailas bustled him off.

"I don't suppose," Hal asked Dessau that evening, as they strolled along the battlements, "you happen to know anything about hypnosis?"

"I read a book about it once," Dessau said. "Seems fairly simple, assuming you've a subject who doesn't object to the idea.

"And you know, of course, that nobody will do anything they don't want to when they're hypnotized, so you can't get one of the guards to open the gates for you."

"I just want a simple bit of remembering," Hal said.

"I'll give it a try," Dessau said. "But no guarantees."

"I've been a soldier too long to expect anything like that," Kailas said.

"Ah've thought," Wolda said. "An' Ah'll let y' try wi' th' hypnotizin 't."

"Good," Hal said. "This evening, before lockup, after assembly."

"All right, Wolda," Dessau said in a soothing voice, tucking the bit of stolen oil into a pouch. "Just relax, lean back, and watch this medallion."

"Ah'll try."

There was no one in Hal's cell but the three of them. Hal had run his roommates out, thinking, the less confusion, the more likely this might work.

"See how it turns," Dessau said. "See how it spins."

"Ah do."

"Now, don't talk," Dessau said. "Just watch the medallion, and listen to my voice."

Dessau kept talking, about soft, gentle things, and always, always, the gold medallion he'd gotten from somewhere kept turning.

Wolda looked quite alert.

Hal felt himself getting sleepy, wondered how long Dessau would keep trying, wondered if Wolda had a godsdamned mind to hypnotize, got sleepier, and suddenly realized Wolda might not be going under, but he surely was.

Kailas looked at the ceiling, afraid to move as the voice wove on, talking about home fires, with the rain and wind beating against the window panes, and a good meal warm inside, and the fire crackling, and then Hal got his shin kicked.

He looked back down, and Wolda had his eyes closed, and a happy smile on his face.

"Can you still hear me?" Dessau asked.

"Aye."

"Do you want to tell me some things?"

"P'raps."

"Do you want to tell me some things about Ungava?"

"Do Ah have to? He's tryin' t' take me away frae m' fire."

"I'll not let him, and soon I'll leave you alone to toast your bones.

Ungava is a magician."

"Aye."

"An evil magician."

"Aye."

"He uses a spell to keep prisoners from being able to escape."

"Aye. A secret spell."

"But you've heard it."

"Aye."

"Would you like to tell it to me?"

"You'll not let Ungava turn me int' a sea monsker?"

"No."

"Th' spell goes," and Wolda''s voice took on a singsong, and deepened, to match the Roche magician's:

Spinning compass

Bind, bind, hold, hold fast

Swirl about with my wand

There is no north

You cannot see clear

There is no south

No east, no west

All is fog

All is lost.

"An' he tap't wi' his damned wand afore in all directions, sprays wi' that evil shit, an' as far as Ah know, that's all."

"Good," Dessau said. "Go sit by your fire."

Wolda fell back into unconsciousness.

Dessau motioned to Hal to follow him out of the cell.

"Well," he said, "I guess I'm a real hypnotist.

"I was hoping there'd be herbs, or something else," Dessau said, "that Ungava uses to lend the spell power. But there's nothing but that damned wand of his and whatever's in the atomizer.

"I don't think it's just the words."

"Try it," Hal said. Dessau handed him the tiny vial of oil, and Hal put a bit of it on his face. It stank as badly as he remembered.

Dessau, face most skeptical, chanted the spell.

Hal turned to the setting sun, knew that as west-northwest by knowledge, felt for north, found nothing.

"No," he said. "You're right. It needs the wand. I hope nothing more."

"So all we need to make the thing work is to steal Ungava's magic stick, we hope," Dessau said. "Something tells me that might be a bit of a challenge."

Hal nodded, gloomily. Then an idea came.

"Maybe not. You said that you can't make somebody do something he doesn't want to do."

"Right," Dessau said. "At least, that's what I've read."

"But what about something he might want to do, if he had the courage?"

Hal explained.

"Mmmh," Dessau said. "I'll give it a try. I just hope it works… and that our poor little fisherman in there doesn't get turned into a sea monster.

"Although I've never seen any magician with that kind of power."

The next day, Ungava the wizard was stalking through the prisoners'

areas, peering about, looking for anything resembling an escape attempt.

As always, he was flanked by his small prisoner aide, Wolda, carrying a bag of sorcerous implements and, in his other hand, Ungava's wand.

They rounded a corner, and a prisoner cannoned into Ungava, sending him flying back into Wolda.

Wolda fell heavily, the wand under him.

Unexpectedly, it shattered like glass.

Ungava shrieked like an impaled baboon, knelt over the broken remains of the wand.

Wolda tried to help, chattering that it wasn't his fault, and please, please, don't transform him.

Ungava ignored him, came to his feet, and started screaming at the prisoner, who'd been supposed to grab the wand and run, flattened against the wall as if being beaten.

Ungava ran out of words, and stalked away, Wolda, carrying the bag and the bits of the wand, scuttling after him.

Later that afternoon, he gave the bit of the wand he'd hidden to Kailas.

"Let's see now," Dessau said. "You're properly oily.

"Now we point at the four compass points with this little piece of whatever the hells it is… damned glad you drew the headings on the floor, since I can't tell direction any more than you can, and then…"

And then he muttered the spell.

It was if a fog had cleared.

Hal knew north, south, the other directions, had a vision of a crude map, with the Zante River and the castle, and, a bit to the north, the welcoming ocean that led to the Chicor Straits and home.

His eyes were moist.

"It works," he managed.

"Good," Dessau said. "Now, what about the rest of that oil?"

"I'll give it to Hofei," Hal said. "There'll be other escapers after me. I hope."

Hal saw the next escape in the making.

He was finishing up his "diary," and enjoying a rare, sunny day, a nice breeze from off the river cooling the castle's hot stones.

He heard a small crash, looked up.

A slate had fallen from one of the turrets. Then he saw a hand, carefully taking other slates inside, until there was a sizeable hole in the turret.

Other prisoners had seen the same thing, and Hal noted the eeriness—no one shouted, or did anything more than find a vantage point where he could unobtrusively watch whatever was happening.

The hole grew, and then a prisoner clambered awkwardly out onto the roof.

Hal recognized him as Goang, and thought for a moment the man was about to jump, suiciding down on to the flagstones of the courtyard below.

Others must have had the same fear, for prisoners began moving toward the steps into that turret, hoping to stop Goang before he jumped.

But Goang wasn't suicidal—at least, not directly.

Two other prisoners handed something out to him, and he fitted them together.

Hal saw that they were wings, made of paper, he guessed, glued onto thin lathes.

The wings were curved back, like a swift's.

Goang attached them to a harness he'd made, and Hal marveled at the amount of work the man must've gone through, first studying the birds until he understood their wings, then making his own.

Goang braced, then jumped, and now there was a sound from the watching prisoners, something between a hiss of surprise and a gasp of fear.

The wind caught Goang, and lifted him.

Now a guard saw the flier, and shouted an alarm.

Goang was pulling on lines that led to the front of his wings, forcing them down, and he dove at an angle.

Hal figured he would just clear the castle walls, and then have a fair shot at being able to fly over the river.

What Goang would do then, Hal couldn't think, since he saw no sign of the weapons, food or clothing Goang would need to evade the hunters and make his escape.

The wind eddied, and Goang's left wing dipped.

He was just over the wall when his wingtip caught a battlement.

Instantly what had been a birdlike thing of grace and beauty, collapsed, and Goang was falling.

But he was able to reach out at the last minute, and grab that same battlement.

He slipped, almost fell, then had a firm hold, and pulled himself up, onto the parapet, just as half a dozen guards had him.

The bits of his bird machine were ripped apart, and Goang hauled off to the baron, and from there to a solitary cell.

But his failure gave the prisoners a bit of hope, and something to talk about.

Hal wondered why it had taken a nonflier to come up with this idea, decided he would think more about this device.

But that was for the future.

Now, he was finally ready to go.

Within a few days, the story of what the Dragonmaster had been writing so laboriously was all over the castle.

It was the story of his capture, and imprisonment, supposedly complete with details of Castle Mulde.

Some said that Kailas was keeping this diary to stay sane, others for it to be used as evidence in the trial of Baron Patiala, after the war, "for surely the bastard has to be tried before we can hang him."

Hofei whistled.

"Now I understand why you refused to tell me your escape plan."

Hal shrugged. "It was the only idea I could come up with."

"But what happens if it fails, anywhere along the path?"

"Then," Hal said, trying to sound nonchalant, "they'll hang me. Tell mother I died game."

The guards burst into Hal's cell just before dawn.

Very efficiently, they bundled him out of bed, and put him against the wall while they searched his meager possessions.

Kailas noted that they deliberately behaved as if this were a blind search, and they "just happened" to come on the hollowed-out cot leg.

Obviously Patiala had no intention of exposing the big mouth or traitor who'd passed the story about Kailas's manuscript along.

The guards dragged out the manuscript and, whooping with glee, hauled Kailas off to one of the solitary cells.

"One thing that has always pleasured me about life," Baron Patiala said, "is that villains will out."

He reached out and tapped Hal's manuscript, lying on his desk.

Hal tried to look like a not particularly bright villain, caught red-handed.

"Not only did you have the cold-blooded ruthlessness to murder one of the queen's soldiers, but you were stupid enough to brag about it, even after you'd been warned both by Ky Yasin, Sir Suiyan Tutuila and myself that you were being watched, and would face prosecution for this capital offense as soon as adequate proof was amassed.

"Truly, you played into our hands, and now you shall pay.

"I have sent word of your idiotic behavior to Sir Suiyan and Ky Yasin, and that you will be escorted, on the morrow, from Castle Mulde to Carcaor, where you shall be court-martialed, as common law admits, and then punished, I hope to the fullest extent of the law.

"I knew it was just a matter of time."

Hal didn't know any of the guards detailed off for the escort.

All he was permitted to take were the clothes he'd arrived in, now somewhat more worn in the months he'd been prisoner at Castle Mulde.

The prisoners turned out to watch him leave.

No one spoke, and few could meet his face.

Most of them had heard the tale of Hal's stupidity, writing about what he'd done after escaping from the hospital, and thought while Kailas was most certainly brave, they agreed with Patiala, and considered Hal a fool.

Ungava put the spell of the chains on, after the limber metal strips had been wound about his ankles and wrists. Hal felt them clasp him tightly.

He was half-carried, hardly able to stagger, back down the hill, to where a boat waited.

The warrant in charge of the escort laughed harshly as the boat was pushed away from the dock, and the guards started working the sweeps, driving the small craft back upriver.

Hal looked once at Castle Mulde, and spat into the water.

He waited until near dusk, just before the boat's commander would be looking for a place to beach the craft before dark.

The boat had passed three fishing villages since leaving Castle Mulde.

Then he knelt, and whispered the counterspell over his leg irons, hoping that Ungava hadn't been lying to Wolda when he said that spell could be worked by anyone.

He hadn't been lying. The metal uncoiled like a snake, and clattered to the deck.

Hal quickly whispered the spell again, near his manacles, and they, too, fell away.

The clank was heard by a guard, some yards away.

He spun, saw Hal, standing free, and his mouth fell open.

Before he could shout, Hal kicked off his boots, dove off the boat, disappearing in a swirl.

Then there were shouts, orders, and the boat spun in the current, coming to a halt as guards dropped their oars, strung bows, nocked arrows, and had spears ready for the cast.

But there was nothing but the eddying, muddy waters of the Zante River to be seen.