After a short silence, the scout heard leaves rustling and branches snapping as a horse trotted through the wood. The beast crested the hill a moment later, Avner's proud figure seated upon its back. As the youth came nearer, Tavis saw a hawk's-head crest embossed on the skirt of the gelding's fine leather saddle.
"Where'd you come by that horse?" he demanded.
"I found it," Avner answered.
"In Earl Dobbin's stable, no doubt," chuckled Basil, "Well done, boy."
"Don't encourage his dishonest ways!" Tavis turned toward Basil and saw that the runecaster had finished his symbol. The verbeeg was walking toward there, pulling Morten's unconscious form along at his side. The bodyguard was lying flat on his back four feet on the ground, with a red, multifarious rune shimmering upon his massive chest.
Tavis shifted his glare to Avner. "The lord mayor can have you drawn and quartered for taking one of his horses," he said. "And I'd be breaking the law if I tried to stop him."
The color drained from Avner's face, but he met Tavis's gaze evenly. "Don't worry. I wouldn't expect your to break the law." There was a bitter edge to his voice.
"You're being too hard on the boy," Basil said, joining Tavis. "He was just being resourceful. How else was he supposed to catch us?"
"He wasn't," Tavis snapped, still scowling at Avner, "He was supposed to stay behind and look after the children."
"Livia said she'd watch them," Avner replied, "I wanted to be here in case you needed me."
"What do you think I could possibly need-"
Basil's free hand clamped down on the scout's arm, to cutting him off. "Don't say something you'll regret," he warned. "Besides, shouldn't we hurry to Castle Hartwick? When we report Brianna's abduction, a stolen horse will seem no big thing."
At last, Tavis reached the edge of the plateau and stopped to rest, legs aching and lungs burning after the long run from Coggin's Rise. Just ahead, the road descended over the lip of an enormous cliff that dropped a vast distance into the blue waters of the Clearwhirl River. From the middle of the river's deep currents rose a sheer-sided spire of granite, hundreds of feet high. Perched upon the summit of this craggy island, like a jagged white crown atop a pillar of black stone, sat the pale ramparts of Castle Hartwick.
To all appearances, the castle was as impregnable as it was huge. Flying turrets hung from every corner, and between each pair of jagged merlons stood a ballista manned by a guard in helm and breastplate. Even the towers, scratching at the clouds like a titan's pearly lances, were constructed of granite blocks so huge a storm giant could not have toppled them.
Tavis looked back across the spruce-dotted plateau. A short distance behind him, Avner was leading the horse he had stolen from Earl Dobbin. A short length of taut rope ran between the gelding's saddle horn and Mortal's chest, pulling the firbolg along as though he were a cloud. Behind the floating bodyguard came Basil, staggering and wheezing, skipping forward every now and then as Blizzard nipped at his rump.
When they finally caught up. Tavis did not give them a chance to rest. "Stay together," the scout said. "We're almost there, and I don't know how the sentries will react if they see a verbeeg coming down the road by himself."
Basil's bushy eyebrows came together. "Perhaps I should return to Stagwick and collect my books-"
"Those are Earl Dobbin's books, not yours," Tavis reminded him. "And you won't be safe alone. There are a lot of patrols this close to the castle, and it could prove fatal if they came across you."
Without awaiting Basil's response, Tavis turned away. The road ahead ran down a narrow ledge cut into the cliffside. It passed before a small watchhouse chiseled from the living stone, then curved sharply onto a long bridge that spanned the Clearwhirl's wide chasm.
As Tavis's small company walked clown the road, three sentries stepped from the watchhouse door. In honor of the princess's birthday, they had polished their armor and weapons to gleaming silver, and over their breastplates hung ceremonial tabards of red linen embossed with the king's white stag. The two youngest men carried long halberds. The oldest, a veteran with gray hair, bore a silver-sheened battle-axe identifying him as Sergeant of the Earls Bridge.
The two youngest guards came a few paces up the road, then stopped and crossed their weapons to bar the way to the bridge. "The sergeant stayed behind, standing at the watchhouse door.
"Halt and explain yourself. Tavis!" the sergeant called, casting a suspicious eye at Basil. He made no mention of the strung bow in the scout's hand, for the loyalty of firbolgs-and that of Tavis in particular-was well known. "Where is Lady Brianna? Why do you have her horse and bodyguard?"
"The lady has been taken by marauders." Tavis peered over the crossed polearms, looking down the road at the sergeant. "That's all you need know to let us pass."
