"What about?" asked Jim, but before Carolinus could answer, the door to the room opened and Angie entered with Dafydd right behind her.
"Would you like me to leave, Carolinus?" she asked the magician.
"Not at all, my dear," said Carolinus. "In fact it probably wouldn't be a bad thing if you stayed around for at least the first part of our little talk."
"Dafydd!" cried Brian, starting up from his stool, and Giles echoed the name, getting up himself. They charged across the room and (since they were in private) the ritual greeting process of embracing and back-slapping went on—all of which Dafydd accepted with a pleased smile, but a slightly pained expression around the eyes. He was not a demonstrative person himself; and this demonstration so close to the last time they had been together, Jim suspected, embarrassed him.
However, with the welcomings over, the knights reseated themselves and Brian motioned Dafydd to sit also. There were no more stools. He dropped into a cross-legged position on the floor. All attention was turned back on Carolinus.
"You haven't answered my question, Carolinus," said Jim.
"I thought I had," said Carolinus. "However, if you must have it spelled out for you, I repeat what I told you once before: physical strength is required for the creativity involved in working magic. And I need all I have at the moment. For one thing, I'll need to transport you all, and your gear and horses to France by magic."
There was a moment's long pause in the room.
"As it happens," said Jim, "I think I told you I still have the bubble—"
"That I know!" snapped Carolinus. "But, as it happens, I've already destroyed it. It may not have been visible to mortal eyes; but too many unmortal and trans-mortal eyes could be watching us now. And listening—watch out for any spells that don't seem to work the way you expected them to. It'll mean the Mastermind is interfering. In any case, time is of the essence; and your bubble would have to be hidden once it was over there. No, no, the thing to do is for me to just deliver you all at once into Brest—I believe you were there the last time you were in France, weren't you?"
"Yes," said Jim.
"And you definitely are going with the rest, now, are you, Dafydd?" asked Carolinus.
"I am," said Dafydd. "Danielle said I was moping. I said I was just a little regretful, that was all, look you. But you know my wife—she said she wasn't about to live with me the way I was; but I'd better come back safe and sound."
"Well then," said Carolinus, "it's simply a matter of getting you all there. Do you have everything you need to take?"
Brian, Giles and Dafydd all nodded.
"I've got to get some gear out of the solar—" began Jim.
"It's outside in the hall, Jim," said Angie.
"Oh? Fine," said Jim. "But aren't we moving too fast, Carolinus? We don't have a very clear idea of exactly what we're trying to find out over there. Tell me, what did you learn, if anything, from Granfer?"
"One thing, very clearly," said Carolinus. "Granfer did not give you all the links in the chain. I gather he doesn't know them himself. The Mastermind can't be Ecotti. He simply doesn't have the capability, as I told you. Nor could this one sea serpent—Essessili—get so many of the other sea serpents to join him that easily."
"So?" asked Jim.
"So," snapped Carolinus. That unusual note of querulous anger was in his first words, once more. "You're going to France to find out who the missing link is! Who is the Mastermind behind the use of the sea serpents in the invasion? It's a role that can only be filled by somebody not only very wise, but very well versed in magic—much more than Ecotti is."
"But you told us—beg pardon," said Jim, "you told me—that the Accounting Office said no magicians were involved. And if Ecotti's only a sorcerer, and there's only magicians or sorcerers who know magic, who could it be?"
"If I knew," said Carolinus, "I wouldn't be sending you to France, would I?"
"Well, how do we start?" asked Jim. "After we get there, I mean. What if we're asked why we're there?"
"Tell everyone you're exiles expelled from England by the King. The fact one of you has a Northumbrian accent—"
He looked at Giles.
"—Will make it all the more believable," went on Carolinus. "Then, at the first opportunity, and as quietly as you can, get hold of Ecotti and question him."
"That'll be no small order, Mage," said Brian mildly. "Now, if it was just a matter of killing him—"
"No, no, no!" said Carolinus irritably. "Above all, you mustn't kill Ecotti. If you do we'll never find out who the really responsible party is. Just manage to get him apart and question him."
"As Brian says," put in Jim, "that is not as easy to do as it is to say."
"I know that!" said Carolinus. "That's why I'm sending you four. Believe me, I don't know of anyone else who could do it. It'll take the individual talents of all of you, put together, but it must be done! Either Ecotti has the answer or this sea serpent—I've forgotten his name now—"
"Essessili," ventured Giles, who up till now had been respectfully silent. He pronounced the name as Rrrnlf and Granfer had.
"That's right, what's his name," said Carolinus. "Just what you said, Giles. Either he or Ecotti can tell us who the Mastermind is. One of them must have been in direct contact with him. Now, any more questions? Otherwise, off you go."
Jim looked at Brian, Giles and Dafydd and beyond them at Angie.
They all looked back at him wordlessly.
"I guess none of us have," said Jim, a little sourly.
Abruptly, they were standing in a street in Brest, dismounted from their horses and holding the reins of those horses. They were just outside the Inn of the Green Door, the inn they had stayed in on their previous visit to this port city in France.
Chapter Sixteen
"My Lords!"
Jim would have jumped, just like Angie, if the weight of his armor had not kept him from making that sort of betraying gesture.
He turned to see the same landlord they had had before. His name was Rene Peran. He was a young man, but fattish rather than stout, with a stubble of dark beard that apparently had not been shaved too recently. There was an equally dark suspiciousness about his eyes. He gave the impression of mistrusting them on sight. Perhaps he did not like foreigners. Why, Jim wondered, had they ended up at this very place where they were known? Carolinus would have no reason for putting them here. Perhaps this was a case of what he had warned Jim against. The Mastermind altering others' spells.
At any rate, if Peran didn't like foreigners, he was doing his best verbally at the moment to hide the fact.
"Welcome back, my Lords!" he said, with a sort of whining geniality. "Well I remember you from last year! But then you left and we heard no more of you. You're English, no? Yes, I remember. So, and how has it been with you, my Lords?"
"Passing well, passing well," Brian answered for the three of them. "We've been in the east, fighting the heathen. A bloody time for many poor gentlemen, alas! We are fortunate to all be together and back with you again."
Jim had never suspected Brian of being so swift and facile at dissembling. When Brian so said "east" he was probably referring to an area somewhere beyond where modern Poland would have been in Jim's time and world. In the fourteenth century there had been non-Christians in that area; and it was true that knights from all over Europe went out there looking for a chance to right them.
Jim felt a sudden itch on the right side of his head and reached up to scratch it, only to have his fingers bump themselves on the hard surface of his helm. They were all still dressed in full armor. This could not be taken by those around them in this French city as an intent to cause trouble, since most knights tended to travel in their armor; particularly if they had wild areas to traverse, where there might be any kind of unsuspected dangers. Besides, the safest way to carry your armor on a trip was to wear it.
"But come in, my Lords," said the innkeeper, stepping forward and taking the bridles of their h
orses. "Come in and you shall be brought a pitcher of our best wine immediately. I'll see your steeds into the hands of the stable workers myself!"
So invited, Jim and the rest moved past the landlord, who had gone off into the courtyard behind him, at an angle toward the stables, that partly flanked and were partly behind the inn. They followed him into the cobblestoned courtyard. The itch came again, but Jim was helpless to do anything about it. It struck him that they had been wearing their armor for a little too long.
The same feeling did not seem to have occurred to either Giles or Brian, who, in typical fashion for men of their kind, never complained about the weight or troublesomeness of their armor; and, as far as Jim could tell, never even thought about it. They could probably lie down and sleep in it without realizing they had forgotten to take it off.
Within the inn, everything was as Jim remembered it from before. Smelly, but cool—for which Jim at least was grateful; and evidently the itch was, also, for it went away.
Brest was at its summer now, where it had been spring when they had visited the year before. Then, the temperature had been comfortable. Now, outdoors, in the sun especially, it was entirely too warm for comfort, particularly in this blasted armor. Jim would have liked nothing better than to get up to his room, even now, and get the armor off. But after the landlord's effusive welcome, politeness must be served. Since the innkeeper had made a fuss over them, it was their duty to accept it in proper fashion. This established on both sides that such treatment was their due, no less.
A servant had already been waiting for them, evidently, for the pitcher was on the table in the common-room to which he ushered them and the thick-walled, greenish glasses were laid out. He poured the wine for them and Jim drank from his rather hastily. It was magnificently cellar-cool and he was more thirsty than he had expected. The servant refilled glasses all around—Brian and Giles had simply emptied their glasses at a draught. Bottoms up. The servant refilled them all around and went off.
Brian sprawled out his legs and put his elbows on the table.
"We are well housed in France once more!" he said.
"Yes," said Jim. He glanced around to make sure no servants were close enough to hear. "That was quick thinking of yours outside, Brian."
"Ha! What else would three English knights have been doing out of England, if they were not to be found in France? Except in the east fighting heathens?" he said; and half drained his glass again.
Brian's mention of three knights reminded Jim of Dafydd. He looked around the common-room of the inn; and, sure enough, at one of the long, community tables Dafydd was seated by himself, with his own pitcher and cup. He had remembered their difference in rank, even if Jim had forgotten it. In fact, he told himself, he seemed to have been the only one to forget it. Both Brian and Giles had taken as perfectly natural that the bowman should go and sit apart from them.
His mind came back to the business at hand.
"I'd like to get up to my room," he said, "and get this armor off. Don't you two want to get out of your armor, too? We've been wearing it for I don't know how many hours, or days."
"Hours only, surely," said Brian.
"Angie told me we'd been gone several days."
Brian shook his head.
Magic, he was obviously thinking. Jim could see it as clearly as if the word was printed on his forehead.
"Also," Jim went on, "we'd better make some plans—and those plans had better be made in secrecy."
"You're quite right, James," said Brian, peering into the pitcher. "There's no wine left here, at any rate. We'll order some more sent up as we go."
They got up. Brian went off to attend to ordering some wine sent up as well as finding a servant to show them to their room. Jim beckoned Dafydd to come with the rest of them.
They had had the common-room to themselves, it being the middle of the day, but past the lunch hour. A servant came to lead them up to the room; and in a moment they were there. It was a good-sized room and their baggage was already there. A better room than they had had the time before. Jim frowned.
"Our bowman will sleep across the threshold inside the door," he told the servant who had showed them the way up. Just at that moment another servant with pitchers and cups came in. "Oh, and another cup for him."
The servant looked a little surprised; but knights were a law unto themselves, when you got right down to it. He went off without a word. Still, Dafydd hunkered down by the door and stayed apart from them until the servant returned with the extra cup and left again. Jim closed the door behind him.
"Let's all sit at the table," Jim said. "You come join us, Dafydd."
There were only three stools in the room, but by moving the small, square, bare-wood table over to the—as usual—single bed, they made a fourth sitting place. Dafydd took this, just so none of the others would be embarrassed at not knowing who belonged where. Brian seated himself on Jim's right, with Giles on his left and Dafydd across the table.
"You seem concerned about something, James," Brian said, pouring their cups full and putting down the pitcher before glancing keenly at Jim.
"I'm a little suspicious about our landlord, if you want to know," said Jim. "I wondered that he'd recognize us so quickly after our short visit, a year ago."
"Not at all," answered Brian. "It's a trick of the innkeeping trade to remember the faces of your guests, so you can welcome them as old friends if they ever come back again. It's even a good trick to pretend you know them—but I think he actually did recognize us. After all, we're English in a French town."
"We speak the same language," Jim could not help saying.
That was one of the amazing things. Not only all the human beings but all the animals including the dragons, the wolves and even someone like Granfer spoke the same language. It was disconcerting to somebody from a world which, even if it had been five hundred years and more in the future, was a welter of different languages.
"Ah," said Giles, "but our horses, armor, weapons, everything about us, shouts that we are English and they are but Frenchmen."
"There's that, of course," said Jim dryly. "Thank you for reminding me. You don't think I should be concerned about it, then?"
"No," said Giles.
Brian shook his head.
"As I say, such things are part of an innkeeper's tricks. But I thought you wanted to talk about what we were to do here."
"That's exactly what I wanted to talk about—and just among ourselves," said Jim. "But I've got to get out of this damn armor. Give me a moment or two."
"We could all be more comfortable with less of our metal," said Brian, rising himself. Jim was already up and Giles was not slow to follow.
Dafydd turned about on his stool and watched them with a cool amusement.
"Look you, now," he observed as pieces of armor began to litter the floor. "All that weight and trouble for so short a time when it must be used."
"All right if you're able to stand off at two hundred yards from your enemy!" grunted Brian. "But if your business is getting in close—Giles, will you help me with the side lacings of this breastplate? You tied a bloody knot there at the seashore that I don't believe I'd get undone in a month of Sundays."
"I double-tied it, that's all," said Giles; but began to untie it, anyway.
Finally, out of their armor and back once more at the table, they got down to business.
"Our problem is going to be finding Ecotti," Jim said. "Because that's what we'll have to do. Locate him first; then figure out some way to get hold of him in spite of his magic; and hold him helpless enough so that we can question him. The more I think of it, the more impossible it seems to me."
"Faint hearts are for ladies," said Brian, refilling his cup. "Finding him—that should be no task. Let me just wander around town and see what other Englishmen I can find. There's also a good chance that English—or French; I may find someone shortly with whom I've had to do in the past at tourneys—can tell us much about matters her
e. Your good lance travels all over in search of tiltings."
"And, come to think of it," put in Giles, "I might look around myself for a fellow Northumbrian. If I can find one such, he will be like a brother in this foreign land. I should be able to learn a great deal from him."
"But will he have knowledge of the French court—which is undoubtedly where Ecotti is?" said Brian. "Whereas, one I bump into who's a tilting buff may well be a resident of the court himself. Either at the King's command, or because he has been retained for the use of his services."
"Well, in any case," said Giles, "the chances are good of one of us, at least, finding someone of either kind here in town, since your fighting man gets quickly bored with the velvets of a court."
Dafydd stretched and got up from his stool.
"As for myself, now," he said, "I believe I will do what I often do. I will sit in the common-room all day long; and find what knowledge comes to my ears that way. Often it is best to wait for a quarry rather than hunt him. And indeed, I do believe that is true of all knowledge—knowledge of any kind."
He went out. Giles and Brian were now down to varying dress of hose and cote-hardie, with the minimal addition of a chain mail shirt over the cote-hardie; and, of course, their knight's belts and swords were once more strapped around them—with counterbalancing dagger on the opposite side from the sword. They finished the wine and also went out.
Jim was finding himself unusually tired. Almost as if he had gone four days without sleep. Whether it was indeed this, or the wine, or the two combined, he found that right now he yearned for sleep.
He got out of his travel supplies the clean mattress Angie had made him, and unrolled it on the floor. It was the only safe way of having something to sleep on that was not alive with vermin. That small bed over there that was supposed to accommodate three grown men was probably a pest house in miniature.
He took off his clothes and put them to one side and then stretched out on the mattress. Using one of his saddlebags as a pillow and covering himself with his clothes and his travel cloak, he dropped instantly into slumber.