Legacy of the Darksword - Margaret Weis [94]
“Ah,” said Mosiah, and he sighed in relief. “Now I know what is going on!”
CHAPTER TWENTY
“For returning to this realm and bringing upon it untold danger, the sentence of death is placed upon this man Joram.”
BISHOP VANYA; TRIUMPH OF THE DARKSWORD
Scylla frowned, her brow creased. “I fear you have taken serious hurt, Enforcer. A blow on the head, perhaps?”
Mosiah put his hand to his forehead. “Yes, for a moment I was quite disoriented. I was loath to tell you. I did not want to worry Her Majesty.” Hands folded, he bowed. His tone was respectful, all trace of sarcasm gone.
Eliza had been cold and withdrawn. At this statement, she warmed and drew near him, looking concerned. “Are you all right now, Enforcer?”
“Thank you, Your Majesty. I am recovering. I fear, however, that there may be gaps in my memory. If anything that I say or do sounds odd, you must put it down to that account. I beg you to be patient with any questions I may ask.”
How very clever! I thought. Now he frees himself to ask whatever questions he will and they will think it’s nothing more than the bump on his head.
“Certainly, Enforcer.” The Queen was gracious. “And now we should be going to meet with Father Saryon. We are already late and he will be worried. Sir Knight, will you lead the way?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Scylla, sword drawn, took a moment to get her bearings, which she did by looking again at the sun, then searched the ground for signs of a trail. She found one, not far distant, which—by the cloven hoofprints—had been made by some sort of beast.
“This is a centaur trail,” Mosiah warned. “Isn’t that dangerous?”
“You said yourself they were off hunting,” Scylla countered. “We have need of speed and this is faster and easier than slogging through the undergrowth. Besides, centaur prefer ambushing lone, helpless travelers—such as Father Saryon.”
“True,” Mosiah conceded. “If you will take the lead, Sir Knight. I will guard the rear.”
As she walked near him, to take her place at the head of our small group, Scylla paused and looked Mosiah squarely in the eyes. “Are you certain you’re all right, Enforcer?” she asked, and there was true caring and concern in her voice, softness in her bright eyes.
“Yes, lady,” he said, astonished. “Thank you.”
She grinned at him and clapped him on the upper arm with an enthusiasm that made him wince, then she turned and continued moving cautiously and watchfully along the path. Eliza gathered her long skirts and followed.
Mosiah stood a moment staring after Scylla in confusion, a confusion which did not all arise from the strange and inexplicable situation in which we found ourselves, but which was the confusion experienced by any man in any place in any time when confronted with the strange and inexplicable motives of a woman.
Shaking his head, he shrugged and gestured to me to join him.
The trail was wide enough for two people to walk side by side, though, by the prints, the centaurs walked along it in single file.
I signed to Mosiah, “You seem to have some idea what is happening to us.”
“So do you, I believe,” he said, glancing at me sidelong.
I felt called upon to explain. “I’ve caught glimpses of myself in ... another life,” was the best way I could describe it. “And I’ve seen Eliza and Scylla there, too. I didn’t say anything before because I wasn’t sure.”
“Tell me what you saw.”
I did so, adding that it wasn’t much and wasn’t likely to help us. “It didn’t seem to make any sense.”
“It doesn’t make sense now,” he said, and his face was grim. “We have been sent to another time, an alternate time. But why? How did we get here? And why do you recall another time and I recall another time, yet neither Scylla nor Eliza seems to. And how do we get back?”
“The Technomancers?” I suggested. “Perhaps they are responsible. What was that . . . thing . . . you attacked out beyond the Wall. The thing in the white mask that looked like Gwendolyn.”
“She was one of the Kylanistic order of the Technomancers,” Mosiah replied. “They are known as the Interrogators. They have the ability to