Sir Apropos Of Nothing Part 31

"Yes, Highness."

"One might almost think that your description of your endeavors caters to that."

I didn't look the king in the eyes. "If His Highness is implying that I am fabricating it, he need look no further than his own daughter-"

"Entipy has given an account not dissimilar from yours, actually," said the king.

"Well, then-"

"My daughter," the king said almost cheerily, "is quite mad."

"There are worse fates," the jester piped up, but then fell silent once more.

I didn't know what to say and, for once in my life, said nothing.

"Then again," and the king half-smiled, "we're all a little mad in our own ways. Are we not, squire?"

I nodded, unsure of how else to respond. When in doubt, agree with a king. Good words to live by . . . if for no other reason than that they will help you to keep living.

"My daughter is quite fond of you," continued the king. "There was once a time when I would have thought her incapable of being fond of anything save causing trouble, bringing us to the brink of war, and driving tutors into asylums. Do you believe that people can change, squire?"

"I would like to think so, Highness."

He looked at me askance. "Have you changed? Squire?"

I glanced down. "I . . . do not know, Highness."

"An honest answer. Perhaps you have changed at that."

I wasn't quite sure what to make of that comment, and somehow didn't want to know.

"I have asked Captain Gothos to prepare guest quarters for you," said Runcible. "Not as fine as this, of course. But suitable to one who single-handedly kept my daughter alive. We shall speak more anon. Odclay will lead you to your room."

There was a fire burning in the fireplace nearby. The king rose and went to it, stood in front of it to warm his hands, and appeared lost in thought. Odclay rose without his usual capering and gestured that I should follow him, which I did. In silence we walked back across the courtyard. The jester kept looking me up and down, as if trying to figure me out. He could spend as much time attempting that as he wanted; heaven knew that I hadn't managed it yet.

"Thank you," I said finally, "for showing me the way to the king's liquor supply."

Odclay studied me with obvious curiosity. "Was that you?" he said distantly.

"Yes. Yes, of course it was. Why, don't you remember?"

"I remember so many things," sighed Odclay. "The problem is, only half of them are true . . . and the half which is true keeps changing places with the half which is false."

"Thank you for sharing that," I said diplomatically and spoke no more to him. I didn't see the point; by tomorrow he'd probably have forgotten we'd chatted at all. On the one hand I felt contempt for him; on the other hand, in some ways he didn't seem so different from me. Simple creatures with infirmities and weaknesses (mine of body and breeding, his of mind and body and who-knew-what in his own background) doing everything possible to survive in a world that had no care for whether they lived or died.

I glanced over to the jester, feeling sympathy, and saw a long trail of drool trickling from his jaw, and decided that maybe we were less alike than I was first thinking.

The room was indeed more than adequate. I enjoyed the relief for the first time in hours, not having to recount stories that I wasn't comfortable with, or keep up a front or appearances.

I lay back on the bed-a genuine bed-and thought about Entipy. Did the king really think she was mad? Why shouldn't he. I did. Or did I?

I was beginning to get impatient with my life. Everything had been so simple, so clear, when I burned with quiet hatred for everything and anything. But now I was starting to develop loyalties to things other than my own self-interest, and I was uncertain as to whether that was a good thing or not.

What if she came to me now? If, as I lay there, the door opened and the princess entered and slid into the bed with me? If she insinuated her naked body against me and begged me to take her? With the ghost of Tacit hanging over me, what would I do? I had no idea. And I disliked having no idea. If you were unable to decide what to do about any given situation before it happened, that left open the opportunity for events to overtake you. That was how people got themselves killed, and I had every intention of living as long and full a life as possible.

Still, I lay there on my side, watching the door, waiting to see if it would creak open, and in short order my eyes closed and I fell into a deep sleep.

I was suddenly shaken to wakefulness and Entipy was looking at me, her face inches from mine.

Oh G.o.ds . . . this is it . . . she wants me to mount her like a stallion . . .

And without preamble she said, "The sun has risen, the troops of King Meander, the mad wandering king, are heading this way, and we are completely helpless because the fort is empty save for you, me, my father, and the jester."

There are some mornings where not only do you wake up badly, but you just know the day isn't going to get any better.

Chapter 24.

I dressed quickly and emerged into lightly falling snow. "This weather is driving me insane!" I raged. dressed quickly and emerged into lightly falling snow. "This weather is driving me insane!" I raged.

Entipy, who had been waiting outside my quarters, replied, "You won't live long enough for it to make any difference if Meander gets his hands on you."

"How can the fort be empty? Where are the soldiers? The garrison . . . ?"

We were moving across the courtyard toward the main battlements. Entipy was walking so quickly that, because of my lame leg, it was difficult for me to keep up. I held my staff securely, taking some measure of comfort in its heft as well as in the sword strapped to my back. But if Meander and his Journeymen had really returned to the vicinity, my meager weapons wouldn't last me long at all.

"I have no idea where they are," she said tersely. "I woke up, found the main doors ajar, and when I climbed up onto the ramparts, I saw the Journeymen in the distance."

"Are you sure it's them?"

"They fly the flag of Meander. At least that's what the jester says."

I stopped dead. "The jester? jester? You're listening to Odclay now? The king's fool?" You're listening to Odclay now? The king's fool?"

She frowned at me. "Far better to believe he's right and try to prepare for it than a.s.sume he's wrong and wind up captives."

I couldn't argue with that either.

The doors were still open. I wasn't surprised; the things were so d.a.m.ned heavy that it had taken several burly men all their effort to shut them before. We were completely vulnerable. Looking up, I saw that the king had joined the jester on the parapet. They seemed to be having an intense discussion as the jester pointed, and then danced about a bit for good measure. Runcible was nodding, looking very solemn and very serious.

"And you've looked everywhere for the rest of the troops?" I asked.

She nodded briskly. "Checked all the barracks, everywhere. Everyone's gone."

The light snow continued to fall, slicking up the ladders that led up to the ramparts. I almost slipped as we clambered up. The king looked down at us with mild eyes and said dryly, "Pity I can't wish you a good morning, squire, but it doesn't appear very good."

I looked where he was looking, and couldn't quite believe what I was seeing.

In the distance, there was heavy snow falling to the left of the King's Road, thick and fast. The tops of the trees in the forest were already abundant with white. It was exactly the same to the right. As for the road itself . . . nothing. A few stray flakes fluttering in from the wind that was whipping through, but otherwise nothing was obstructing the path of the Journeymen.

And Journeymen they most definitely were. I remembered their uniforms of black and white, and that emblem of theirs-the globe with marching feet around it. I was too far to see it on their s.h.i.+elds, as I had that time in the Elderwoods with Tacit, but it didn't require the eyes of an eagle to see the symbol emblazoned on banners being held high that were fluttering in the wind. With the snow whirling on either side of them, it was as if Meander had brought the spirit and climes of the Frozen North along with him.

"That," Entipy said slowly, "is unnatural. It's as if the snow is his very friend . . . it . . ."

"Oh . . . G.o.ds," I whispered. "Of course. Of course. Of course."

"Of course what?"

"It all makes sense . . . I mean, a warped kind of sense, but sense nevertheless . . ."

"It all makes sense, makes sense, makes sense," chanted the jester, "I sense, the scents of sense incensed . . ."

"Shut up," I said.

"Speak, squire," said the king, his eyes narrowed. His demeanor was quite calm; you would have thought we were simply chatting about niceties rather than being faced with the impending arrival of an army, who couldn't have been more than an hour away.

"The weather patterns. They've been out of whack. It's been because of Meander. He may have left the immediate area of Isteria, but apparently he hasn't gone far from these parts. And he's been using a weatherweaver to re-create the climes of the Frozen North for him. It's the environment that he's most accustomed to. So when the mood suits him, he has the weatherweaver manipulate the cold to benefit him, when he's going on the offensive, or whenever he's simply feeling nostalgic for his homelands."

"I knew that other kings were fighting him," Runcible said, shaking his head. "I advised them against it . . . told them the foolishness . . ."

"As foolish as ignoring him, Father?" demanded Entipy. As cold as the air was, there was genuine heat from her. "Is that how ruling works? To sit about on your royal throne with your royal thumb up your royal a.s.s, while others do whatever they wish to whomever they wish? Apropos told me how one of Meander's people killed his mother, and you sat by and did nothing."

The jester immediately started to chant. "Blue is ground, brown is skies, King Meander is so wise, knows he to avoid a fight when the timing is not right . . ."

"Shut up!" This time Entipy and I had spoken in unison.

"We all do what seems right at the time, Entipy," the king told her.

"And what seems right this time, Father?" And she pointed in the direction of the oncoming army. "Face facts: You have been betrayed. Your whereabouts offered up to Meander, and he's coming for you, and we're defenseless . . ."

"I have a cunning plan!" declared the jester. I moaned inwardly, and Entipy audibly. "As cunning as the good king's brilliant outflanking maneuver at the Battle of Ralderbas.h.!.+ As outstanding as the way in which he outthought the evil hippogryph of Collosia. As clever as the way in which he managed to obtain the Veil of Tiers from the very heart of the Land of Wuin! As-"

"Is this a cunning plan or a resume?" I asked in exasperation.

But the king seemed genuinely interested. "What would that plan be, Odclay, pray tell?"

"I will stay here, perched in plain view, and distract Meander and his men when they arrive. In the meantime, the three of you can flee."

"We do not run from danger," Entipy snapped.

"The h.e.l.l we don't," I shot back, and then quickly added-to sound n.o.ble-"Not when you and the king are at risk. The problem is, there's no place to run to. If we head north, away from Meander, we wind up back in the Outer Lawless regions. If we head east, he'll catch up with us, and besides, the terrain is too daunting for us to put any serious distance between us. West is problematic, considering there's a thousand-foot drop in that direction, and south takes us right into his arms."

"I said it was a cunning plan, not a perfect one," retorted the jester.

They were still approaching, taking their own sweet time. They knew they had us.

"If only we knew for sure that we were helpless," said the king. "If only we knew where our troops had gone . . . whether they would return in time . . . there's so much that's uncertain . . ."

"Yes, but we don't know for sure," said Entipy.

And that's when it hit me.

"No," I said softly, "we don't know. And neither do they." Suddenly I turned to them, seeing the confused expressions on their faces. "Highness . . . what do you know of a siege? When an army lays siege to a fortress such as this. What do you know of what happens?"

"Well," the king said slowly, "you secure the gateway, lower the portcullis if you have one. Man the battlements. Get boiling liquid or heavy stones to be dropped through the machicolations if you have any. Ready the archers, keep behind the merlons to present as minimal a target as-"

"Right. Right. And they know that, too."

"Of course. Everyone knows it."

"All right. Here's what we do." My mind was racing down the slippery slope of inspired madness. "Highness . . . change clothes."

He looked at me blankly, as did the others. "You consider this an inappropriate ensemble in which to be captured?"

"Not with something else you brought. With him."

And I pointed at the jester.

"Are you crazy?" asked Entipy, genuinely curious.

"No," I said. "But they're going to think your father is. Crazy as a fox, as the saying goes."

And I laid out my plan for them, as quickly and efficiently as I could. When I finished they were still staring at me as if I'd grown a third head.

"It won't work," Entipy said flatly.

"Do you have a better idea?" I asked.

"She's right, it won't work!" said Odclay, sounding pleasantly lucid. "The moment they see him up there, a perfect target, they'll put a hundred arrows in him!"

"No, they won't. They'll want him alive; he's far more valuable that way."

"Are you sure?" asked Runcible doubtfully.

"Reasonably so."

"Reasonably so?"

"Look," I said in exasperation, "if they want you dead, then we're finished no matter what. If they want you alive, then this can work. But we have to decide now, because if I'm going to get into the forest and accomplish my part of the plan, we have to get started."

Entipy and the jester looked to the king, who instead looked at me as if hoping that I might somehow suddenly transform into a great wizard and simply spirit the lot of us out of there. The snow was coming down harder around us.

"All right," he said finally. "We will trust the squire's plan."