Too Many Princes (62 page)

ESCAPES

Hours passed while Lottres lay in his windowless room. It felt like days. He tried to think of something useful to do, some way to use his powers and set everyone free—without giving them away. All he really thought of was how little he knew. Despite the powers he took such pride in, Lottres was helpless, trapped and alone.

Then he felt the tickle of a mind probe. It wasn't like Yriatt's sharp force, but he was sure someone was trying to insinuate into his thoughts. He held his breath for a moment, then forced himself to relax. Instead of blocking, Lottres concentrated on his emotions, showing what the spy would expect to see: shock and indignation at Carthell's betrayal, self-pity, grief over Unferth.

Nor was his mourning all for show. How could it be? He would never see his father again. A part of Lottres didn't want to believe it, though he knew he should. Johanz of Carthell certainly seemed to think it was true. He wouldn't have launched his rebellion if he didn't think Unferth was gone.

Lottres lay on the narrow bed and let his heart ache. What else was there to do?

Just as he was getting truly maudlin, the cool thrill of Yriatt's power brushed the unseen eavesdroppers away. Lottres sat up on the bed. The bare wall was rippling, like water when a stone is thrown in. Fascinated, Lottres watched, trying to feel how Yriatt did this. As he stared, she walked through the solid stone.

“
Are you ready to leave,
Thaeme
?
”
she asked.

“
Yes, but...
”
Lottres stammered.
“
Maess,
won't they hear you?
”

“
I certainly hope so,
”
Yriatt answered with asperity.
“
I did not rescue my father from Altannath so we could be shut up in this little hole. Come,
Thaeme
.
”

Yriatt approached the door. Her power went out before her. Lottres heard the bolt on the other side slide back. The door opened without her touching it. From beyond it, Lottres could feel Ymell doing something as well, though he couldn't tell what it was.

They were showing off their abilities on purpose, Lottres realized as he followed Yriatt. They were taunting the
eppagadrocca,
provoking them. She wanted them to come and confront her. Well, maybe Yriatt was right. Dangerous as it was, a wizard's battle would be better than sitting in a cramped tower, doing nothing.

They emerged into the corridor. Lottres blinked at the sight of an armored guard lying flat on the floor. He hadn't realized Dietrick left a guard, although it did make sense. Lottres felt a surge of panic, until he saw the man's peaceful expression. His chest slowly rose and fell. The guard wasn't dead, but deeply asleep.

Ymell opened Shaelen's door. He casually stepped over the prone watchman and asked,
“
Shall we go?
”

“
Yes, Father,
”
Yriatt said.

“
Where do we go?
”
Lottres asked.
“
What will we do?
”

“
We'll think of something.
”
Ymell brushed past. Lottres must have been confused, for he thought he saw a spark of mischief in Ymell's eyes.

Lottres hesitated as the others set off down the corridor, remembering how helpless he had been feeling. Gingerly, he tugged at the sleeping man's sword. The guard showed no reaction as his weapon slid free.

Thus armed, Lottres hurried after the others. No plan, just going. It was exactly what Brastigan would have done. Lottres found himself laughing out loud.

“
What is it?
”
Shaelen asked.

“
Nothing,
”
Lottres quickly replied. It would be cruel to remind her of Brastigan, and an unnecessary distraction.

Yriatt must have caught Lottres's thought, for she snapped,
“
Do not compare us.
”

“
I never would,
”
Lottres hurried to say.
“
But
, Maen
, what is our goal? Do we try to take Carthell, or simply break for freedom?
”

“
I wouldn't turn my back on Carthell,
”
Shaelen said.

“
We need no traitor knives at our throats,
”
Ymell agreed. He spoke without even the smallest trace of humor now.
“
Even if Johanz did not detain us, there are others to be dealt with. I will not leave Ysislaw's creatures to do as they wish.
”

“
We couldn't, anyway,
”
Yriatt said.
“
If they follow the pattern, they will report our presence to their master at sunset.
”

“
He will know
Maen
has escaped tonight,
”
Shaelen said,
“
when the
eppagadrocca
at Altannath don't report to him and don't answer his calls.
”

“
Even so,
”
Yriatt said,
“
it would help us a great deal if Ysislaw did not know exactly where we are.
”

“
Let him be the one to wonder, this time,
”
Ymell added with grim satisfaction.

They came to a stairway. Without hesitation, Ymell turned downward. Lottres, following, wondered how Ymell knew which way to go. He certainly didn't remember which way they had come in. And that wasn't the only thing bothering him. The sensible side of Lottres's nature balked at Ymell's careless attitude.

“
Maen,
how will this work?
”
Lottres found himself asking.
“
We came here to warn Carthell of the invasion. We can't just denounce Johanz as a traitor and...
”

“
Even though he is?
”
Yriatt needled slyly.

“
Of course he is,
”
Lottres said, flustered, but he knew too much about governance to keep quiet.
“
Johanz is the duke. He rules here. How will you defeat his armies without devastating the land just as badly as Ysislaw?
”

“
We can do more than start fires,
Thaeme,
”
Ymell said gently.

“
I know that,
”
Lottres said,
“
but even if you kill only the
eppagadrocca
, touching no one and nothing else, Johanz cannot sit still for that. He is the ruler here,
”
Lottres repeated urgently.
“
He can't just let you do whatever you want. No one would respect his laws. Maybe you could convince him to expel the Silletsians first. That would avoid humiliating him. Or did you plan to simply overthrow his regime? Who would take Johanz's place? You,
Maen
?
”

“
You are indeed a king's son,
”
Ymell murmured, but that answered nothing. Feigning injury, he said,
“
You think me unqualified?
”

“
You're not Carthellan,
”
Lottres replied.
“
They will resent any outsider, no matter who he is.
”

“
How do you know where we have lived?
”
Yriatt retorted.
“
Perhaps we have been Carthellan in the past.
”

“
They didn't greet you as if they knew you,
”
Lottres said.
“
Anyway, we have to get to Harburg.
”

Ymell chuckled, perhaps at Lottres's stubbornness.
“
Let me explain, first,
”
he said,
“
that I am convinced Johanz is either a willing collaborator or he is the
eppagadrocca's
pawn.
”

“
Or both,
”
Yriatt put in with cool disdain.
“
Ysislaw has a way of using those who think they are using him.
”

“
How do you know?
”
Lottres asked.

“
I have been trying to probe Johanz's mind,
”
Yriatt answered.
“
Someone is protecting him. Why would they do that, if he isn't involved with their plans?
”

Ymell went on,
“
Whether Johanz is a fool or a schemer, we cannot leave him as he is. He must be deposed. I believe you should be able to speak for your brother Oskar on that account.
”

“
I suppose,
”
Lottres replied a little stiffly. He was being teased, and didn't like it.
“
Oskar doesn't appreciate people taking things upon themselves.
”

“
Would he permit a traitor to go unpunished?
”
Yriatt spoke sharply.

“
No,
”
Lottres admitted,
“
but Oskar will want to make the decision himself.
”

They had descended two levels as they talked, passing closed doors and layers of red and white stones. Before them was another stout wooden door. With an angry flick of Yriatt's wrist, it swung inward toward them.

Beyond the portal, Lottres glimpsed blue sky above the blunted teeth of castle walls. He caught a whiff of musty lake air. Long shadows of afternoon ran across a cobbled courtyard beyond.

“
Maess,
wait!
”
Shaelen suddenly cried.

A violent gale flung the door wide open. Billows of dust surged in, blinding them. The wind shrieked like an angry cat. Then came a boom that made the stones quiver underfoot. Lightning snaked in at the door, twisting in patterns too bright to look at.

Lottres stumbled backward up the stairs. He blinked the stinging grit from his eyes and cursed his own folly. What a fool he had been—so intent on arguing, he made everyone forget the dangers ahead of them.

Yriatt and Ymell stood firm in the stairwell. Their robes flapped against their bodies, but the white-hot serpents forked to pass harmlessly around them. Shaelen retreated, joining Lottres on the stairs as the wind wailed and lightning snapped in the air. Through the wooden haft, he felt his borrowed sword vibrate with electricity.

The two wizards exchanged some communication too quickly for Lottres to understand. Yriatt nodded to Ymell. Then the floor rippled beneath her. Swiftly and surely she sank through the stones. Ymell strode into the courtyard to confront his foes. Lightning followed him like a swarm of angry bees.

Lottres coughed against the burn of ozone in his throat. Dust was everywhere: in his nose, between his teeth. The thunderous crash of electricity made his ears drum in protest.

Shaelen shouted above the screaming wind,
“
I thought this was going too easily!
”

Lottres wiped sand and tears from his eyes. He yelled back,
“
What should we do?
”

Outside, he could feel three
eppagadrocca
as dull, throbbing points of malice. Faintly, he felt the panic of castle residents as they heard the erupting battle. He couldn't sense Yriatt at all, and that frightened him.

“
Look, watch me,
”
Shaelen said. The wind still rushed into the stairwell, but it suddenly stopped beating at them. A stray bolt of lightning streaked in the door. It deflected from the shield of Shaelen's will.

“
Can I...
”
Lottres began.

Shaelen was already nodding. She spoke quickly.
“
Make a fist. Feel how tight your shoulder gets? Just do that to the air in front of you.
”

Lottres closed both hands, but all he felt was his fingertips pressing into his palms. Nothing happened to the air.

“
Try again,
”
Shaelen urged.
“
I can't cover you, heart-brother.
Maen
needs my help. You must learn to do this for yourself.
”

“
I'm trying,
”
Lottres said. He squeezed his fingers until his wrists ached, but still nothing happened. When his chest began to ache, he realized he was holding his breath. He sucked in air with a gasp. Lottres's mental shields were rigid as steel, but what he wanted to happen wasn't happening.

“
Make a picture in your mind,
”
Shaelen said with forced patience.
“
You have trained with sword and shield, haven't you? Think what a shield feels like. Then make a fist.
”

She left him on the stairs, darting down to the open doorway. Buffeted once again by the wind, Lottres closed his eyes and tried to shut out the noise and rough gusts. He pictured the first shield Joal had given him to train with. It was wood covered with leather, round and flat and heavy. He raised his left hand, his shield hand, as if to guard himself. Lottres remembered the faint smell of leather, the way the straps cut into his forearm. He made a fist and willed the shield to be there.

The wind faltered. Lottres opened his eyes. Nothing was there. His will crumbled, and the cold air flung dirt into his face again.

Lottres sat on the steps, groaning with frustration as he rubbed his eyes. When he looked over his fingers, he saw Shaelen framed in the doorway. Her feet were set and her arm was braced as if she held a bow. She reached back, plucked nothing from the space above her shoulder, and drew back as if to shoot.

As Lottres watched, a fiery arrow leapt from Shaelen's hand. Then another, and another. Shaelen moved suddenly, and lightning flickered past her. She turned and fired toward where the lightning had come from.