The Prodigal Troll Part 30

"We never do," Maggot answered.

Bran grinned. "We escaped Sebius's palace and crossed the bridge without a fight. Let's praise two G.o.ds."

He lifted a large bra.s.s k.n.o.b shaped like the tongue in a lion's mouth and knocked it against the wood. When no one answered, he repeated the action. A moment later, the left-hand door cracked open.

A plain-looking woman peeked out. She had white hair and a face shaped like an onion. She took one second to look at the two men's faces, their clothes and feet.

"I'm sorry, but we're not at home," she said. Then she pulled her head back and slammed the door closed.

Bran was too quick, catching it before it latched. He pushed it open, saying, "It's perfectly all right, m'lady. Tubat is expecting me. It's about the dance tonight."

He slipped inside the door, and Maggot squeezed in behind him. The woman did not appear to believe Bran, but she didn't seem fearful either. Her wrists were crossed firmly at her waist. "I'll inform Tubat that you're here. Which lord sent you, again?"

"Forgive me for not saying so, I beg you three times, please forgive me. Servant Bran, here on behalf of Lord Claye." He bowed before her.

Her eyebrows, plucked into two tidy rows, lifted at the names. She studied Maggot's features. "Lord Claye would do well to provide boots to his servants, so they could remove them and not track mud into other people's houses. Tubat is with a guest, preparing for the masque. He said absolutely no interruptions, so he may choose not to see you."

"I understand. Tell him Bran, his servant, is here, please."

"Whose servant are you-Lord Claye's or Tubat's?" She turned around, her robes rustling along the floor of the narrow hallway. Her voice drifted back toward them. "Do not touch the furniture."

The door at the end of the hall creaked as she opened it and disappeared into another room. Maggot tried to take everything in-the floor laid out in square tiles forming a pattern, the closed doors on either side, the couch.

A voice boomed from the room down the hall. "Bran? That rascal! He serves no one but himself!"

The door swung wide open, and in strode a bare-chested bear of man, as tall as Maggot but wider. He wore a pair of loose pants, the color of chestnuts, and little green slippers on his feet with pointed toes sticking out in the front. A broad mustache drooped over his mouth and bristled along his cheeks, but his chin was naked. He carried a large ceramic cup, nearly a pitcher by the size of it, in one hand, and walked down the hall with his arms wide open. Maggot had the sense of having seen him before.

"Bran!" the man said. "Knew it was you as soon as I heard the name. No one would dare steal your good name, eh?"

The old woman followed him back into the hall and exited silently through one of the side doors. A golden cat with black spots thrust its head into the hall, then padded out after her. It was six feet long without the tail. Two more followed after it. They lingered in the hallway, b.u.mping against each other. Maggot knew the man now from the camp beside the river.

"Greetings, Tubat, greetings," Bran was saying. "May luck and justice s.h.i.+ne on our meeting."

Tubat approached his visitors, beaming a broad smile behind his mustache. "Lord Claye, huh? The clay on your feet!" He stopped short. "How are you?"

"Not so good."

He sipped from his cup. "You were never one to let the cold or wet get you down. But I heard you were dead."

"I should have been. The peasants captured me and Wys when they swarmed over the outpost in the middle of the night. Don't know if the guard was sleeping on duty or if they just happened to kill him, but they killed the rest of the men and took Wys and I back to their village for some fun."

Tubat's smile faded a bit as he looked at Bran's clenched hands. "We should have rooted them out of the mountains a long time ago. So I take it Wys didn't have as much fun with them as you did."

"No, I was lucky enough to miss the worst of it. The fire was burning at my feet when my friend here saved me. Walked right into the village, knocked the headman on his head, and cut me loose."

"And they let you walk out, just like that?"

Bran laughed. "Would you stand in his way? Does anyone ever stand in yours?"

Tubat sized Maggot up frankly, seriously, but spoke to Bran. "So Sebius set you both free instead of killing you?"

"She had a change of heart," Bran said without hesitation.

The biggest cat strolled curiously toward Maggot. It wore a bright red collar on its neck.

"Good!" Tubat said. He took another sip. "Name yourself, friend of Bran."

"Maggot." He watched the cat's approach.

"That's an odd name. Well, we're short of good men, good fighting men. Your friend looks young for a braid that long, Bran. Is he a knight, then? A renegade knight?"

"He's a lord of the trolls," Bran said. "He came down out of the mountains."

Tubat stared at Maggot. His mouth tightened slightly and his shoulders tensed; then he burst out laughing. "A troll?" He slapped his thigh loudly. "A troll! He could be one too!"

While he talked, the cat came up to Maggot with its mouth wide open, pink tongue lolling between yellow teeth. It sniffed him, then circled around behind him and rubbed up against his legs, rumbling in its throat. When he ignored it, the cat pressed its mouth against his hand, dragging its sharp teeth against his knuckles. Still Maggot didn't flinch.

Tubat watched all of this while he laughed. "He's got nerve too. A man's got to drink to that!" He slapped his leg again and drained his mug.

The cat leaned forward, stretching out its long front legs, and flopped on Maggot's feet. Its tail lashed up and down.

Bran cleared his throat. "We need your help, Tubat. I have to get into the dance tonight to see the Baron."

Tubat tugged at his mustache, his cheeks still red from laughing. "Didn't Sebius give you writs? Because your friend doesn't even need a costume-he can go as a troll! Hey, Crimey!" he called over his shoulder. "Come here, d.a.m.n you! I've got a troll in the foyer!"

A second cat bounded down the hall to pounce on the first one's tail. When Maggot glanced at it, the big mug came flying straight at his head. He dodged, but it clipped his ear and shattered on the wall behind him. The cats leapt up and away as Tubat punched Bran in the chest.

"What the-?" Another man-Crimey-called from the doorway, knotting a rope that held his pants up, as the third cat jumped forward and stopped uncertainly.

"We've got ourselves a brace of traitors," Tubat shouted as he attacked Maggot.

Maggot knocked his forearms aside, lunging forward to drive his forehead into Tubat's face. Tubat staggered back, blood flying from his nose and lips, but he didn't fall.

One of the cats growled.

Maggot ignored it, grabbing Tubat's wrist. He yanked it straight and hammered his fist into the elbow. As the knight yelped in unexpected pain, Maggot kicked the legs out from under him and drove him into the floor.

Crimey skidded to a stop, just like the cat had. "The war G.o.d's c.r.a.p." Bran tackled him and put him in a chokehold, bending one of his arms back at an awkward angle.

Tubat groaned and tried to rise, so Maggot grabbed a lock of his hair and slammed his head into the floor. The noise stopped, along with all movement.

One of the cats came over and sniffed at Crimey's face. "Attack," Crimey strained to say. "Kill, ki-"

"Quiet," Bran said, tightening his hold. "I warned Tubat about the cats. Told him they were way too independent, no matter how fast they run. He needs dogs."

Maggot stood up. The biggest cat watched him, laying back its ears and baring its teeth. Then it hissed at him. When Maggot made no move, the cat backed away.

Bran jerked Crimey to his feet and pushed him toward the door at the end of the hall. "Can you bring him along?" he asked Maggot, tipping his head at Tubat's unconscious form.

"If it's not too far." Maggot rolled the big man over on his back, picked up a bare foot-one of the slippers had fallen off-and dragged him down the hallway after Bran. The cats pounced after him, batting at the trailing braid.

Dropping the legs when he'd pulled Tubat through the door, Maggot thrust it closed before the cats could enter.

The high-ceilinged room was unlike anything he'd ever seen. The walls were tinted bright blue. Pillows of all sizes surrounded a large plush rug in the center of the floor. A s.h.i.+ny metal spiderlike object hung from the ceiling, with a flickering candle sticking upright from each foot. A short table, no higher than Maggot's knees, sat to one side with a large pitcher and several cups all like the one Tubat had thrown at Maggot's head. Two racks in the corner held clothes, one with the pattern of a greycat, another with a wolf's gray pelt. Masks of the two animals sat on another, higher table.

While Maggot gaped, Bran ripped a long cord from the curtains that covered the windows and bound Crimey's arms behind his back.

"Traitor," Crimey harangued him. "If you mean to kill me, get it done with now. And may Verlogh's ven-murphhh, mrrmr!"

Bran shoved a piece of cloth s.n.a.t.c.hed up from the floor into the man's mouth to stop his talking. "Let the fact that I don't kill you prove that I'm no traitor." He flipped through the clothes on the floor, picking up a piece that had two sh.e.l.l-like circles connected by a web of strings. "There was at least one woman in here. Let's hope she's hiding in a closet somewhere. He's dead, is he?"

Maggot prodded Tubat's body. "No, he still breathes."

Bran touched his forehead, lips, and heart with three fingers. "The luck of the G.o.ds is with us then. Let's tie him up, and then block the doors so no one can get inside. Roll him over on his stomach, in case he pukes when he wakes up. They do that sometimes, and it would do us no good to have him die choking on his own vomit."

They made use of every cord, belt, and rope they could find in the room to bind Tubat up tightly and tie Crimey's feet as well as his hands. Tubat woke up gagging before they had fastened the doors. He bucked against his bounds at once. "You stinking peasant shepherd. Your father stuck his pizzle in a sheep and got you! You're a traitor. Sebius told us all about it. You can't get away with this, Bran! I'll kill you!"

"You had your chance," Bran said. "And you failed. I have my chance now, and I refrain. Remember that." He took the doublesh.e.l.led cloth and shoved it into Tubat's mouth.

The big man spit it out again. "I'll kill you! And I'll kill your friend too!"

"Be silent before I change my mind." Bran held Tubat's head by the braid and thrust the cloth back into his mouth, using its own strings to bind it tightly behind his head.

When he was done, Bran took a deep drink from the pitcher, then offered it to Maggot. One sip burned his mouth and throat, and he recognized the fire water that Sinnglas had taught him to hate and avoid. Though thirsty, he declined the drink. "What do we do now?"

Bran walked over to the costumes. "We dress for the dance."

"I danced with Sinnglas's people," Maggot said.

Bran guzzled another drink from the pitcher. "When the Baron starts receiving pet.i.tioners, I'll go to see him. If I don't come back, then leave the party and the city."

They cleaned themselves and dressed in the costumes. The greycat outfit fell to Maggot, but it hung loose around his middle. The long tail was supported by a wire, buoyed into the air, and Maggot kept spinning to see what jumped behind him. Bran's costume fit better, but Maggot didn't know how to properly tie the knots that held it together, and Bran had to talk him through each one. He finally mastered it just as he ran out of knots.

Outside the door, the cats roared and scratched. Tubat and Crimey glared at them from the floor.

Maggot rested, glad to have dry clothes against his skin, while Bran paced around the room, turning pillows over.

"What do you seek?" Maggot asked.

"The paper writs that'll get us entrance into the castle. We might be able to bluff our way in without them, but it'll be harder. They might be in another part of the house."

Maggot helped him turn everything over with no success. Bran bent to ask the two tied-up men for information and thought better of it. Finally bored with looking, Maggot picked up the cat mask to put it on. Inside he noticed a pale leaf. "What's this?"

"That's it!" Bran said, pulling another from the second mask. "Ha ha! We're set." He rushed over to the curtain, pulled it aside, and peeked through the wooden slats of the shutters. The clouds still hung over a greenish sky, but no rain fell and a bit of sunlight stabbed through here and there as it began to set. Maggot heard people outside, walking in the streets, singing and laughing.

"As soon as it's dark we'll go," Bran said. He paced.

Maggot, used to waiting for the darkness, understood Bran's impatience. When it finally arrived, Bran pulled aside the window and pushed open the shutter.

"Wish me luck," he said to Tubat.

The big man screamed into his gag and strained against his bonds, kicking his feet against the pillows that surrounded him.

Bran helped Maggot put the mask over his face and then fastened on his own. He made that same gesture, with three fingers, touching between the wolf's eyes, the tip of its snout, and over his own heart. "The G.o.ds have been with us so far, my friend. Let's hope they continue to smile on us."

"And we will smile back at them," Maggot said.

Bran laughed. They climbed out the window into a little yard, pushed the shutter closed again, and let themselves out through the gate. Voices and laughter sounded from the houses, yards, and streets as they walked. Other people in costumes all moved in the same direction, weaving their way among the puddles. Stags, mammuts, and ringtails; greenbirds, redbirds, and jays; panthers, wolves, and hawks-it was as if all the creatures of the forest had turned into people and come down to occupy the city for a single night.

Maggot and Bran flowed with them toward the building that towered over all the other rooftops. They came to an open area before it where hundreds of costumed people milled about like bees at a hive. Small boys with brooms whisked the paving stones dry. Though dark outside, the courtyard of the castle blazoned light through an archway.

The light flickered on water-the castle stood like an island inside a narrow pond. The archway opened on a bridge beside a daggertoothed lion carved in stone like the statues outside Tubat's house, but much larger than life. It stood as a lion did above its fallen prey, mouth open, roaring at the scavengers- A striking woman dressed in orange and blue fabric feathered like a sparrowhawk paused at the light-filled gate. Recognition fluttered in the pit of Maggot's stomach.

The guard said something to her; then she pa.s.sed across the wooden bridge and inside. A female servant followed after her, bearing a large bundle.

The sparrowhawk was Portia, Lady Eleuate, here after all.

aggot started toward the bridge. He had nothing to give her to show his interest, but he would find something, anything. Words, if that was all he had.

Bran grabbed his arm. "Where are you going?"

"She's here, the woman, the only one!"

"What? Lady Eleuate is here?"

"Yes, her. She is a bird."

He took another step toward the gate, and again Bran's hand held him back. "It'll be better if we wait until the crowds are thicker. Let's not draw attention to ourselves yet."

Maggot pulled his arm free. "Is there any other way out of that house?"

"Castle. No, no one can leave except by that gate."

"It's a small cave that has no second hole to squeeze out of," Maggot said. "But I will wait here, by the bridge, watching until we go inside."

"We'll have to avoid those who know Tubat and Crimey well. Nod at anyone who speaks to you, but act as though you are talking to me and move on."

"Nod and move on," Maggot said. His head spun with the things he wanted to tell Portia. "And hope we do not have to fight."

A smile showed under the edge of Bran's mask. "Exactly."

They loitered at the fringe of the crowd. The cat mask covered all of Maggot's face except his mouth, with a flap in back that tucked inside his tunic. It limited his peripheral vision and the movement of his head, but he never let his eyes waver from the bridge. Portia did not come back out.

A horn blasted inside.

"That's the official signal for the feast to begin," Bran said. "The line will move along quickly now as the ordinary guests enter. Let's go."

As they came close, joining a crowd of others, Maggot saw that the lake was lined with stone and rimmed around the edge with a solid parapet. The torchlight mixed with the greenish glow of little demons swimming lazy circles. Long chains connected the wooden bridge to a little building that jutted out from the castle wall. A flag hung from the tooth-shaped roofline displayed a tan lion on a field of green with gold roping all around the edges. The sound of music and people's voices flowed from inside. As the people ahead of him in line pressed forward, Maggot stared over their shoulders into the castle yard, hoping for a glimpse of her.