"We saw them from a curve of the road above," Vladimir confessed, "and thought it wiser to risk a slide down the slope than an encounter with mercenaries."

"Nearly broke my ankle," Estragon grumbled, rubbing that joint. "It seems I chose wrongly, as usual."

"Did they say what they were searching for?" Gar asked.

"Nary a word," Feste said, "and we didn't stay to ask."

"No, I'm sure you didn't," Gianni said.

"They were even too worried to beat you for their amus.e.m.e.nt?" the thief asked, wide-eyed.

"Even that," Vincenzio a.s.sured him. "Did I not tell you we blessed all the saints?"

"Let us say a blessing again." Gar took the spit off the fire. "We're about to dine.

Does anyone have a knife?"

No one did, so they had to wait for the meat to cool before Gar could break it to portion it out. The next day, they kept a wary eye on the road ahead, and at the slightest sign of soldiers, they took to the underbrush. In that fashion, they crept warily by two separate roadblocks, closely enough to hear the soldiers muttering and griping about such senseless duty-but there was an undertone of nervousness to their grumbles, almost of apprehension. After the second, they came back onto the road and fell in with a trio of peasants in tunics as filthy as anything the other recent prisoners wore. They looked up, startled, at Gianni's hail, saw Gar's size, and leaped asidethen stared.

"Peace, peace!" Gianni cried. "We are only poor travelers, like yourselves."

"Very like yourselves," said the oldest peasant. "Vincenzio! Feste! Why have you moved so slowly? I can understand why Vladimir and Estragon would, since the one is lame and the other so deeply weakened-but why you?"

"We move more slowly, Giuseppi, because we are wary of the Stilettos," Vincenzio answered. "Wisely said," Giuseppi said ruefully. "With each set of them, we thought surely this must be the last. Three of them have searched us now, searched so thoroughly that we had thought they were going to turn us inside out.

Praise Heaven they let us go our way without beating us!"

"They seemed to be worried," Vincenzio agreed. "By your leave, Giuseppi, I'll continue to go slowly, and step off the road if I see any sign of them."

"I think we'll join you," Giuseppi said. "Who are these?"

"Giorgio and Gar," Vincenzio said, by way of introduction. Both raised palms in greeting.

"We won't starve, so long as they're with us," Estragon explained, "and there's a hare to be found in the woods about."

"A hare would be most welcome indeed!" Giuseppi said fervently, and Gar was off on another hunting expedition. This time he brought back partridges and plover eggs, and by the time they were done eating, they were all on friendly terms.

In midafternoon, they saw a lone man striding wearily ahead. Gar called to him, his tone friendly, but the man looked up, stared, then dashed madly into the wood. Gar frowned and waved their little troop to a halt. "Come out, friend!" he called. "We mean you no harm, no matter how rough we look! But there are condotierri on the road, and we will fare more safely together than alone!"

"How truly you speak!" came the quavering voice; then the traveler appeared again, holding a staff at the ready. "What a.s.surance do I have that you are not yourselves bandits?"

He had good reason to fear them, Gianni saw, for by his clothing, the man was a merchant, and a prosperous one at that.

"Only the a.s.surance that we too fear the Stilettos, for most of us have been searched by them, and all of us have suffered at their hands," Gar answered. He held up an open palm. "I am Gar."

"I am Rubio-and Heaven has preserved me from a beating, at least." The man kept his staff up. "But as to searching, they have surely done that, aye, and kept what they found, too!"

"Found?" Gar was tense as a hunting dog. "What did they steal?"

"My jewels! All my jewels!" The man held out his robe, that they might see where the hems had been slashed. "All the wealth that I was taking from Venoga to Pirogia, that I might begin business anew away from the coune and his kin! But they couldn't suffer to let me go, no, but robbed me blind on the highroad!"

"Poor fellow!" Gianni felt instant commiseration. "Why didn't you take at least one guard?"

"Where could I find one who could be trusted?"

"Here." Gianni gestured toward Gar. "Of course, you hadn't had the good fortune to meet him."

The merchant looked up with a frown. "Is this true? Are you a guard who can be trusted?"

"I am." Gar pressed a hand to his head. "At least ... so long as my wits stay with me . . ."

The other travelers drew back in alarm, but the merchant said, "What ails you?"

"Too many blows to the head," Gar explained. "They come and go ... my wits . . ."

Gianni looked up at him anxiously, and the other men drew back farther-but Gar opened his eyes again and blinked about at them, then forced a smile. Gianni heaved a sigh of relief, then turned to the merchant. "So the Stilettos are only about their old game of thieving-but why are they in so much of a hurry?"

Whistling sounded ahead.

They all looked up in surprise, to hear someone sounding so cheerful in a country beset by bandits. "I confess," said Gar, "to a certain curiosity."

"I do, too." Gianni quickened the pace. "Who can this be, who is so carefree when the times move on to war or worse?" He and Gar paced ahead of the group, around a turn in the road, and saw a tradesman, in smock and cross-gartered leggings, strolling down the road with his head thrown back and his thumbs thrust under the straps of his pack, whistling. From the tools that stuck out of that knapsack, it was clear that he was a craftsman of some sort.

"Good day to you, journeyman!" Gianni called as they came near.

The tradesman looked up, surprised, then grinned and raised an open hand.

"Good day to you, traveler-and to . . ." His eyes widened at the sight of Gar. "My heavens! There is a lot of you, isn't there?"

"Not so much as there has been," Gar said, smiling. "I haven't been eating well."

"Who has?" the tradesman rejoined. "If I have bread and cheese, I count myself fortunate. I am Bernardino, a poor wandering carpenter and glazier."

"A glazier!" Gianni was impressed. "That's a rare trade indeed. I am Gia-Giorgio, and this is Gar. We are travelers who have fallen afoul of the Stilettos. We had to steal new clothes."

"Took the shirts off your backs, did they?" Bernardino chuckled. "Well, at least they left you your boots! Me, I had the forethought to be paid in food, and they didn't think it worth stealing when they searched me."

"There's some wonder in that alone," Gar said, "though it speaks well for your prudence. Tell me, how do you find work as a glazier?"

"Rarely, which is why I'm also a carpenter-but when I do, it pays well."

"A whole cheese, no doubt," Gar said, grinning. "Aye, and several loaves."

Bernardino beckoned him closer and whispered, "And several silver pennies, hidden where even the Stilettos shall not find them."

"Tradesmen were ever ingenious," Gianni sighed, and forbore to ask in what part of the cheese Bernardino had hidden his wealth. "You have just had work as a glazier, then?"

"Yes, at the castle of Prince Raginaldi, mending the leading where it had worked loose from the gla.s.s." Bernardino shook his head in wonder. "It's strange, the faith people have in gla.s.s, even when they know there are gaps between it and the leading. Do you know, the prince went right on haggling, even though I was there outside his window on my scaffolding and heard every word he said?"

"Haggling?" Gianni stared. "Isn't that beneath the dignity of a prince?"

"It would seem not," said Bernardino, "though I suppose the man he bargained with was so important that only a prince would do. Though," he added reflectively, "he didn't look important rather dowdy, in fact; he was dressed so somberly, only a long robe and a round hat the color of charcoal-and he spoke with an accent so outrageous (not to say outlandish) that I will swear I had never heard it before, and could scarcely understand him at all! Nor could the prince, from the number of times he had to ask the man to repeat what he'd said, or to judge by the questions he asked."

"What were they discussing?"

Gianni looked up at Gar, surprised by the sudden intensity of his tone.

Bernardino was startled too, but answered readily enough. "The buying of orzans."

"Orzans?" Gar turned to Gianni, frowning. "Those rich orange stones? Tell me more of them."

"They can only be found in the depths of limestone caves," Gianni explained, "and you can see new ones growing on the stalagmites and stalact.i.tes, I am told-but they won't be true orzans for hundreds of years. The new ones are still cloudy, and very soft. Your true orzan, now, that has lain under huge weights of rock for hundreds of years, I doubt not, is pure and clear as the sun, which it resembles, and hard enough to cut anything but diamond." He frowned up at Gar. "You still don't recognize them?"

"I do," Gar said slowly. "I've seen them for sale in a market far from here, very far-but they gave them a different name."

"Orzans or oranges, what matter?" Bernardino shrugged. "The stone does not care."

"They cannot be dug for," Gianni explained, "because the pick that beaks the rock away is as likely to fracture the jewel as its surroundings. No, the gatherers can only walk around the cave every day, waiting for a new segment of wall to break away-and it may disclose an orzan, or it may not."

"What of limestone quarries?"

"There are a few orzans found there," Bernardino admitted, "though they are far more likely to be broken than whole. Still, even a sc.r.a.p of orzan fetches a price worth picking it up."

"And this outlander offered the prince a high price for orzans?" Gar asked.

"A high price indeed, which is strange, because they're not all that rare."

Gianni nodded. "Semiprecious at best."

"But the price the strange somber trader offered for one alone would feed me and house me for a year! Though not a family."

"A high price, surely," Gar said with strange sarcasm.

"Oh, His Highness offered the man a variety of jewels-he laid them out on black velvet, a riot of color that made me faint to think of their value," Bernardino a.s.sured them, "but the stranger wanted only orzans."

"I'm sure he did," Gar said softly.

"It has taken long enough for us to catch you," Vincenzio said. Gianni looked up and discovered the rest of his new companions gathering around them on the road-but Gar turned instantly on the merchant and demanded, "The jewels the Stilettos took from you-were there orzans among them?"

"Two or three, yes," Rubio said, startled. "Indeed, they took them first, and their sergeant was about to spurn me away with the rest, and I was about to thank my lucky stars, when he thought again and took the rest of my jewels-the swine!"

"No doubt," Gar said to himself. "Those, I'm sure, were his pay."

Rubio frowned. "What do you mean?"

Gar started to answer, but broke off and whirled to stare ahead.

Giuseppi suddenly looked up, then gave a shout, pointing. They all followed his gaze and saw a cloud of dust boiling out from a curve in the road ahead.

"Soldiers!" Rubio cried. "Hide, one and all!" He turned away to the underbrush as hors.e.m.e.n emerged from the dust cloud. That was all the former prisoners needed; they bolted off the road, with Gianni right behind them ...

Until he heard the huge, hoa.r.s.e roar, and turned to see Gar charging down at the hors.e.m.e.n, arms flailing like the sails of a windmill, bellowing in incoherent rage as he attacked a whole party of cavalry, on foot and bare-handed. Gianni's stomach sank as he realized the giant had lost his wits again.

CHAPTER 10.

Gar flailed about him with a total lack of skill, but with devastating strength. His fists knocked two Stilettos off their horses; then he caught the leg of another horse and heaved, throwing the animal over and the man on top with it. But as he straightened, a horseman behind him struck down with a club.

Gianni jumped in the way with a feeling of despair, leaping high and catching the club, knowing his own stupidity but also knowing that he couldn't leave Gar to fight alone. He was amazed when the Stiletto tumbled out of his saddle, his club falling free, but not so amazed that he didn't remember to strike the man with his own club as he hit the ground. He didn't get up, but a friend of his was swinging down with another club, and Gianni blocked with his cudgel in both hands, then swung it two-handed at the man's skull-but the soldier blocked, and a blow from behind made the world swirl around Gianni; he felt the cudgel slipping from his fingers, felt himself stumbling back against something warm and hairy, felt huge hands fasten onto his wrists with exclamations of disgust from above. When the world stopped tilting, he saw Gar on his knees with his hands bound behind him, felt rough hands tying his own wrists, and saw his whole company of refugees gathered together in a circle wide-eyed, moaning, and surrounded by hors.e.m.e.n.

"What are we to do with this lot now?" one Stiletto asked with disgust. "The captain said we weren't to waste time gathering men to sell to the galleys until we had searched every traveler and the campaign was over!"

"Yes," said a young man with more elaborate armor and an air of authority, "but he wasn't thinking of people who were so stupid as to fight back. Those, I think, we can ship off to the galleys--or at least pen them in Prince Raginaldi's castle until His Highness delivers judgment. Come along, you lot! Sergeant, drive them!"

And off they went to the castle, hustled so fast that they had to run. The Stilettos didn't slacken the pace until a few men had begun to stumble and fall. Then they slowed down, but the captives still had to trot. It was just as well they had no breath to spare, Gianni reflected-he didn't want to hear how they would be cursing Gar and him, for getting them back into the prison from which they had so lately been freed.

As they came to Castello Raginaldi, Gar looked up. Gianni was too miserable with forced marching and prodding spear b.u.t.ts to care much where he was going, but he followed Gar's gaze. The big man was staring up at the towers of the castle-and there was something strange about the tallest one. Squinting, Gianni could barely make out a skeletal contraption, a spidery triple cross mounted on a slender pole.

He frowned, trying to remember which saint had a triple cross as his symbol, but could think of none. Why would the prince have such a thing atop his castle?

Perhaps it was some sort of new weapon. Yes, that made sense. Gianni determined to watch closely, to see how it was used. Then a spear b.u.t.t struck his shoulder blade, and he lurched into faster motion again.

Across the drawbridge they went and, mercifully, the hors.e.m.e.n had to slow because of its narrowness-mercifully, because all the captives were stumbling with weariness. The Stilettos held the slow pace as they came out into a huge courtyard, where soldiers practiced fighting with blunted swords, and cast spears and shot arrows at targets. Iron clanged on iron from the smithy, far away against the castle wall, and the keep towered above everything, throwing its ominous shadow over them all.

They rode deeper into that shadow, but only to the wall of the keep itself, where a huge cage stood, iron bars driven into the hard-packed earth of the courtyard, then bent six feet high to slant upward to the stones of the wall. The roof was thatched over those bars, but the sides were open to wind, rain, and the baking sun. The door stood open, and the Stilettos herded them through it with snarls and curses. The recycled prisoners stumbled in and fell to the ground with groans of relief-at least they didn't have to run from the drubbing of spear b.u.t.ts any more. The door clanged shut behind them, and the sergeant fastened a huge lock through its hasp with a sound like the crack of doom.

Gianni sank down in a patch of sunlight with the rest, looking about him. The place was messy, but not squalid-apparently someone had shoveled it out and heaped fresh straw against the castle wall-but it had clearly housed many, many men before them. Since it wasn't big enough to hold more than a score, Gianni deduced that it must be the holding pen for prospective slaves. It seemed odd to him that there was no separate cage for women, until he remembered that there wasn't much of a market for female slaves except for the young and pretty, who were generally kept safely at home. In fact, there probably would not have been much demand for male slaves either, if it hadn't been for the galleys-peasants were cheaper, since their parents made them free of charge, and were always at a lord's bidding.

It galled Gianni to think of people being used as merchandise, but he knew that was how the lords, and their hired Stilettos, saw the commoners.

A shadow fell across him. Looking up, Gianni saw Gar settling down cross-legged by him. With resentment, Gianni realized that the big man wasn't even breathing hard, scarcely sweating at all--the pace that had so exhausted the other captives had been light work for him! "It's easy enough for you," Gianni grumbled. "After all, you're the one who got us into this mess!"

"We won't stay in it long," Gar said softly, his eyes on the courtyard.

Gianni stared, unbelieving. The half-wit who had brought down the wrath of the Stilettos had disappeared again. "Have your wits come back so soon?" he asked.

"Or were you shamming?"

"Shamming, this time," Gar told him, his voice still low, "pretending, so that we could get into Castello Raginaldi to see for ourselves what's going on."

"See for yourself," Gianni said bitterly. "Our companions have seen more than enough already! Oh, you've brought us in here easily enough-but how shall you bring us out?"

"Not quite so easily, but with a great deal more subtlety," Gar told him. "First, though, I want a look at that tower." He nodded at the spidery triple cross.