Chapter 14

The guest quarters at the Mollister royal palace were opulent, with a pair of four-poster beds, a separate lounge and a walk-in cupboard with half a dozen snowy white robes. The robes didn't even have labels on, forbidding guests from taking one or two with them after their stay.

Berry opened the shutters, letting the afternoon sun stream in, and he froze as he saw two archers below raising their bows to cover him. He put his hands up as they drew their arrows back, and when they'd determined he wasn't trying to escape, they lowered their weapons again.

There was thick ivy growing up the wall, and if it hadn't been for the archers, Berry and the others would have shinned down to the ground and escaped in no time. As it was, there might as well have been thick bars for all the use the ivy was. "If only we could distract them," muttered Berry.

Meanwhile, Runt was trying to see his reflection in a polished metal mirror, which was part of an elaborate dressing table. He'd never seen a mirror as fine as this in his entire life, and he was curious about his appearance. Unfortunately, he could only see the top of his head, and every time he jumped for a better look, he came down on the floorboards with a solid thud. He couldn't even catch a glimpse of his own face, because every time he went up his hair flapped around, and every time he came down he was too busy nailing the landing to eye himself in the mirror.

"Would you like me to pick you up?" asked Dallow, the young midshipman.

"No," snapped Runt, who was getting frustrated. Then he relented. "Thanks for the offer, though."

"Maybe I can tilt the mirror down a bit."

Berry was watching them, and at Dallow's words he let out a cry of delight. "That's it! You've got it!" Hurrying over, he took hold of the mirror and yanked it this way and that, trying to wrench it clear off the dressing table.

"All right, all right," protested Runt. "I wasn't that bothered about seeing my reflection."

Berry ignored him, and with a splintering of fine carved timber, he managed to free the mirror from its mountings. Then he angled it, experimenting until bright sunlight was reflected on the nearby wall. The reflected light was intense, far too bright to look at, and they all squinted in the intense glare.

Moving slowly, Berry approached the window. When he got there, the archers saw movement and looked up, and at that instant Berry directed a shaft of sunlight into their eyes, one after the other.

The archers cursed, turning away from the intense beam. They clawed at their faces, bent double, their bows forgotten.

"Let's go," muttered Berry, and the three of them were out the window and climbing down the ivy as fast as they could. They reached the ground as one, then ran over to the archers, who were still blinking owlishly and trying to see their hands in front of their faces. Dallow and Berry put a choke hold on each of them, and a few seconds later the two archers slumped in their arms, unconscious.

They dragged the archers into the nearby bushes, then sat on their unconscious forms to plan their escape.

"How are we going to get away?" asked Runt.

Berry frowned at him. "We're getting away. You can do whatever you want."

"Eh?"

"You betrayed us to Varnish."

"It was all a ruse! I was trying to stop him executing us!"

"How is spilling all our secrets to the enemy a ruse?" demanded Berry.

"Oh go on, take me with you," pleaded Runt. "I can be useful, you know I can."

Berry said nothing, and surveyed the scene. They were at the side of the palace, and he could see into a nearby courtyard, where the carriage which had brought them from Chatter's Reach was parked. The horses waited patiently, and a young man stood between them, holding the bridles.

Berry turned to Dallow. "That carriage. Do you know how to drive it?"

Dallow shook his head.

"I do!" said Runt quickly.

They both looked at him. "You can drive a carriage?" said Berry slowly, his voice laden with suspicion.

"I can! I swear! Take me with you and I'll prove it!"

Berry glanced down at the unconscious archers, and then up at the window to the guest quarters. Their escape would be noticed before long, and they had to get out of there immediately or risk being recaptured. He decided to resolve the question of Runt's loyalties later, once they were truly free. "Very well. Follow us, and don't make a noise."

They all stood up, and Berry and Dallow crept out of the bushes, bent double. Pausing only to search the unconscious archers, Runt darted after them.

Together, the three of them hurried across the open ground to the courtyard. There was no cover and they expected a shout of discovery at any moment, but nobody saw them. Once at the carriage, they stood with their backs to the black lacquered bodywork, which was hot in the afternoon sun. Slowly, Berry leaned out to look around the nearest wheel, and he saw the young stable hand attending the horses. Fortunately, the man had his back turned. Berry prepared himself, then nodded at Dallow, who hurried round the far side of the carriage.

As the young midshipman approached the stable lad, Berry raced along his own side of the carriage, towards the nearest horse. He paused until he heard Dallow speaking on the far side of both horses.

"Can you tell me where your master is?" asked the midshipman.

While the stable hand was distracted, Berry crept up behind him and put his arm around the man's neck. He tightened his grip until the lad went limp, then dragged him clear.

Meanwhile, Dallow had the carriage open, and he leapt in without bothering to lower the fancy steps. Berry ran back to Runt, and carried him wriggling and kicking to the front of the carriage, where he all but tossed him up to the drivers seat. Then Berry leapt inside and he banged on the roof. "Let's go!" he cried.

— ♦ —

Runt sat in the carriage's jockey seat, a long, long way above the ground. After getting his bearings, and looking around in vain for a seatbelt, he studied the broad backs of the two placid and very, very large horses. How in Zephyr's name would he command such beasts? He might as well order an angry dragon about!

It was then that he realised he'd taken on a somewhat tricky role in their grand escape.

Of course, when he told Berry he knew how to drive one of these things, he'd been lying through his teeth. But how hard could it be? You made the horses move, and the carriage followed. Simple! So, he looked around for the means to make them go.

Runt spotted a handful of leather traces looped around a short, rounded post. They looked promising, so he gathered them up until they were stretched in a line from his small fists to the horses' mouths. Then he gave them a very gentle tug.

Nothing happened.

Before he tried again, Runt had a quick glance to his left and right. The carriage was parked in a courtyard, facing a pair of doors, and the only exit was behind him. To get out, the carriage had to be turned, and there was hardly any room.

Berry thumped on the roof, just below his seat, and Runt heard a muffled "Move! Now!"

"That's all right for you to say," muttered the halfling. Still, it wasn't like there was a lot to the controls, and so he pulled gently on the right-hand traces. Immediately, the right-hand horse reversed up, while the left-hand horse stood still. This drove the carriage backwards, turning to Runt's right, and there was a hair-rending scrape of metal on stone… followed by a solid thump as they reversed into the courtyard's wall.

Now the carriage was stuck across the courtyard, diagonally, and Runt happened to look up at the windows overlooking the area. He sincerely hoped nobody was watching… not because of the arrows they might rain down on him, he was just embarrassed that he'd run into the wall on his very first attempt.

By now he could picture Berry and Dallow getting rather heated inside the carriage. Soon there would be sharp words, perhaps a major row, and that was guaranteed to land them all in the cells again.

Runt had seen people riding horses before, and he decided to shake the traces to see if that made anything happen. It did… the horses advanced, the carriage was pulled to the opposite corner of the courtyard, and the wheels threw up more sparks as they were dragged over the rough stone. For some reason they weren't turning, but Runt had bigger things to worry about than stuck wheels, for the horses had come to a halt with their noses pressed to the very corner of the courtyard, as far from the exit as it was possible to be.

Runt pulled the left-hand trace, and the carriage went backwards, turning sharply and scraping the lacquered finish all the way down the stone wall. Then he went forward again, got stuck in the other corner, reversed into another wall so hard he heard something fall off the back of the carriage, and then he finally got the horses heading towards the exit.

There was a creak, and he looked round to see Berry clinging to the side of the carriage, glaring at him. "You're a horrible little liar!" hissed the midshipman.

"The controls aren't where they're supposed to be!" growled Runt, playing for time. "It's not my fault they designed it all wrong!"

Berry vanished just as they passed under the stone archway and left the castle courtyard, all four wheels of the carriage jammed solid, sparks flying as their metal hoops were dragged along the cobblestones. They passed several workers bringing goods from the fields, and these worthies stopped to stare as the royal carriage went past like a large, rickety firework, wheels scraping and grinding, with the horses straining at the harness.

They made the road outside, and Runt gave the reins another shake. One of the horses gave him a look, as if to say 'you're joking!', and then Runt discovered a wooden handle at the side of his seat. When he pulled it, it released the handbrake, and with the wheels turning at last the carriage leapt forwards at great speed.

Too much speed, if Runt was completely honest with himself, but it was meant to be a daring escape, not a Sunday morning drive.

The palace shrank into the distance behind them, then vanished completely as the carriage plunged into the heavily-wooded forest. Now feeling more confident, Runt shook the traces, urging the horses on, and they flew down the road to Chatter's Reach at breakneck speed.

— ♦ —

Lord Varnish was hunched over a wrought-iron stand, which supported a polished silver frame. The oval frame was about the size and shape of his head, and had been fixed at the base so that it stood upright. In one hand, Varnish held a book. In the other, a stiff wooden rod.

Lord Varnish's chambers at the royal palace were in darkness, the heavy black curtains drawn to keep out the late afternoon sun, the door closed and locked. Securely locked, because he wasn't just attempting magic, he was attempting dark magic of the most forbidden kind.

The only illumination was provided by a couple of blood-red candles, which burned with curious, multicoloured flames. They varied from yellows and reds, to deep blues and greens, which sounded really neat when Varnish bought the things, but in practice meant that half the time he couldn't see a thing.

"By the powers of the ancients," intoned Varnish, reading from the book. He squinted at the page as he tried to read the faded text, for the candles were now burning a deep shade of purple. "May this road open a window on the…" Cursing, he tried again. "May this rod open a window on the world, so that I might see."

He prodded the air with his wand, like a man testing a hole in the middle of a doughnut, and there was a crackle of electricity. Tendrils of dark energy arced between the pure silver frame and the wrought iron stand, and then, flickering and wavering, a pinkish shape appeared. It was suspended in mid-air, blurry and out of focus, but as Varnish gripped the short, stiff rod, murmuring incantations, it settled down to show a startlingly clear image of a naked woman who was about to step into a large copper bath. At that moment she turned her head, as though aware she was being watched, and Varnish almost let go of his stiff rod as he recognised Queen Therstie.

Slowly, he turned the pages of his book, seeking a section on recording and storing images, but such magic clearly belonged to a more advanced tome. It's possible he missed it, though, for the book might as well have been toilet paper for all the attention he was paying to the pages.

The queen, oblivious to his rapt gaze, got into the tub and lay back in the hot, soapy water.

"Obligatory bathing scene… check," murmured Varnish, thus completing a magic spell which was supposed to grant fame and riches to all who used it.

Finally, he turned his attention to the book, and after finding the page he wanted, he prepared to read the words of power. Then he paused, in case the queen happened to get out of the bath again.

She didn't.

Disappointed, Varnish waved his rod and muttered under his breath, and the image dissolved. There was a flash of grey stone, very close, and then a blur as though the device were a lens travelling at great speed. Beads of sweat rolled down Varnish's face, for the powerful magic was sapping his very life force, and every second he maintained the connection was an effort. That, and the sight of the naked, soapy queen had put a severe strain on his heart.

"South," murmured Varnish, for he wanted to see whether his army had surrounded the invading warship. When the image settled down, he saw an army all right, but it consisted of hundreds of dwarves. And there, peacefully at anchor in the middle of the bay, was the warship.

Desperately, Varnish searched the nearby countryside, but apart from a large silver blob on horseback, there was no sign of his army.

He was beginning to faint now, but with iron will he grabbed hold of his sagging consciousness and bent it to his needs. The image in the circle whirled around, following the road north, and seconds later a groan escaped Varnish's lips as he saw his proud army approaching the Bark capital, with four knights in the lead. He wanted to reach through the metal ring and slap sense into them, but he could only watch, never touch. He knew that for a fact… having tried his utmost while viewing the Queen.

Next, with darkness encroaching on his mind, and his vision blurring and splitting, he drove himself east, to the elven kingdom. Here he saw a field next to a large building, where a dozen elves were stripping tree trunks to build huge war machines.

"One last look," gasped Lord Varnish, and he headed back to the palace. On the way, he saw something that made him hesitate, then swear under his breath. Racing through the forest was the royal carriage, and since he knew for certain the queen was having a bath, he could only assume his prisoners were escaping.

"Guards!" he cried, or at least, he tried to. Alas, his voice was barely a whisper.

Then, completely drained, his eyes rolled backwards in their sockets, and Lord Varnish slumped to the floor.