The Oathbound Wizard

CHAPTER 9 The Siege Parlous

The soldiers had burned out the village and left the bodies to rot. Most of them had been so thoroughly charred that there wasn't much left to decay, but the positions of the blackened bones, and of the few intact but putrefying bodies, made clear what the soldiers' idea of fun had been.

It sent Narlh into a towering rage. "Where did they go? Evil! Corrupted! Back-stabbing, treacherous, wanton lumps of decay! Show me their trail! I'll hunt 'em down! I'll fry 'em all! I'll tear 'em apart and roast the pieces!"

"Easy, Narlh, easy!" The dracogriff's sudden rage had Matt more than a little frightened. "They did this a week ago, or more. They're far away now. It wouldn't do any good to..."

"It would do me a lot of good!"

"Revenge will not aid these poor souls now," Fadecourt said.

"Killing those two-legged monsters would keep them from doing this to any other women! They did that to females of their own kind! It's bad enough when males do it to females from another species—but their own?"

Now Matt understood—the evidence of rape reminded Narlh too strongly of his own begetting. "Well, then, don't stop with killing off one band, Narlh. Kill off their king, the one who allows his soldiers to do this in the first place."

"Allows?" Fadecourt scoffed. "Nay, encourages! Exhorts! That none will dare turn their hands against him. Save your anger for the one who sets the example that these vicious underlings follow!"

"Vicious isn't the word for them! Look at those bodies! Even the men! Rape wasn't enough for them—they had to torture these poor people, too! And what'd they do to deserve it, huh?"

"Served a lord that the king disliked," Fadecourt answered, "whether they would or no. Nay, the long and the short of it is, there was none to defend them from the soldiers' decaying taste in amusements."

Narlh turned a baleful glare on them. "Your kind is twisted! Warped! Vile!"

"No argument," Matt muttered. "Come on, let's get out of here while I'm still more angry than sick." He picked up the pace, trying not to look either right or left until they had passed out of the village.

"Men can be good, dracogriff," Fadecourt was saying as they emerged. "What you have seen is what men can become, when they let their baser desires free."

"And when someone encourages them to be cruel and decadent," Matt growled. "When someone starts telling them that hurting other people is fun, and it's okay to have fun at somebody else's expense. The worse they get, the worse they find themselves wanting to be."

"Aye," Fadecourt rumbled. " 'Tis when someone tells them that good is bad, and wrong is right."

"I'll flay him!" Narlh growled. "I'll tear him apart!"

"People can be twisted so badly that they enjoy hurting other people, Narlh," Matt said. "It's called `sadism.' "

"Sad? It's horrible! Do they have to do it?"

"No. It's a strong drive, but it only gets to be a compulsion in the worst of them. Most people can keep it in bounds, because by the time they've grown up, they've learned it's wrong. But these people have grown up with a king who tells them cruelty is right, as long as there's a good chance they can get away with it."

"So if you show 'em they won't get away with it, then they'll stop! And the best way to show 'em that is to kill off the ones who do it!"

"Maybe—but there's no point in trying, as long as someone's protecting them from justice. You have to start with the one at the top."

"Let me at him!"

"I'll try," Matt said. "But first, we have to get to him." Their first view of the village had been bad enough—Matt would have avoided it, if he'd been able to see it far enough ahead. But no, the trees had suddenly opened out, and they had found themselves in the middle of the char and soot. Matt wondered how many more like it he'd pass, before they reached Orlequedrille. There couldn't be too many, he told himself frantically—the noblemen had to have some taxpayers left. What good was owning the land, if you didn't have anyone to farm it? It made Matt edgy. Gordogrosso's forces were obviously in the vicinity, and if Fadecourt was right, the king could see everything that was going on in Ibile—so how come Matt and his friends hadn't been attacked by an army?

Finally, he tried the idea out loud—but with as much casualness as he could manage. "Any idea why the king hasn't sent an army after us yet?"

"Why," Fadecourt said in surprise, "he may not know that we are here. He must look in his magic mirror before he can see, you know."

Matt shook his head. "I've tried to hold down on the magic, but I have used a few spells in the last few days, and most of them have been to fight evil deeds. That kind of thing is bound to draw his attention."

"How so?" Fadecourt asked, frowning.

"Because a magician can tell whenever another one is working magic nearby," Matt explained. "At least, that's what happened to me in Merovence. I should think it would work just as well here."

"It may be as you say," Fadecourt said slowly, "but you did say `nearby.' Would the king be able to feel your magic, all the way across the land in Orlequedrille?"

"Good point," Matt said slowly. "But I'd think the local baron could, and that he would pass the word on to Gordogrosso. I'd also expect him to come charging out with an army of his own."

"The local lord is penned within his own castle," Fadecourt explained, "and the king's soldiers besiege him. What you say may be true, but the lord cannot come out against you—nor is he likely to, if you oppose the king. The more confusion among his attackers, the better for him."

"Good point," Matt said slowly, "but wouldn't there be a sorcerer among the besiegers?"

"Aye, but he cannot move without Gordogrosso's command. He may tell the king of your presence, but His Corruption is not apt to weaken the siege by sending more than a handful of soldiers after you."

"Okay," Matt said. "Where's the handful?"

Fadecourt shrugged. "Mayhap they think you too small to bother with."

"These boys don't seem the kind to let anything pass, no matter how small." Matt remembered the village.

Fadecourt shrugged. "For myself, I would attribute your safety to the intervention of the saints. They have not completely abandoned Ibile, you know."

"Even though Ibile may have completely abandoned them. Yes."

"Would not the saints favor you, and wish to aid you in your quest?"

"You could say that," Matt said with a sardonic smile, remembering the angel. "Yes, you could say so." And he let it go at that—temporarily.

They were riding down the mountain trail when Matt suddenly reined in. "Hold on! What am I thinking of?"

"I'll bite," Narlh grunted. Fadecourt and Matt shot him looks of horror, and he said quickly, "No, no! I mean, I'll ask the question. `All right, Wizard—what are you thinking of?' "

Matt relaxed. "It's what I'm not thinking of that matters. The siege! Here I've had it made plain every day to me, time and again, that there's a siege going on, with besiegers who have all the virtue of piranhas in heat, and all I can think of is, `That's interesting. Good place to stay away from.' But if I'm really meaning to fight evil in this country, I ought to be going toward that siege, to see if I can help out any! Fadecourt, you've just come through that stretch of country. Can you lead us to the castle?"

Fadecourt exchanged a glance with Narlh. "I can, aye—yet whether or not 'twould be prudent, I must debate."

"Oh, it's anything but prudent! This whole quest is anything but prudent. I mean, if I'd been prudent, I never would have sworn to go kick Gordogrosso off his throne in the first place, would I?"

"Even allowing that," the cyclops said, "it may be that you should bypass this conflict. Is not the greater villain the more vital target? And should you risk your safety, let alone your anonymity, in attacking a lesser?"

"Oh, come on! That's the kind of thinking that's gotten this country into this mess! Of course we should attack evil wherever we find it! Trying to be smart, and becoming callous in the process, is playing into the sorcerer's hands!"

"I s'pose," Narlh grumped. "But it could be you're going after bait, you know."

"Bait?" Matt frowned. "You don't really think the king would mount a siege just to sucker me in, do you?"

"If he knew you were coming? Sure! From what I've heard of him, he's done a lot bigger setups for a lot smaller reasons!"

"Why hit a fly with a swatter when you could use a shotgun, huh?" Matt nodded. "Doesn't sound like a smart ruler, though."

"Nay, but think of it as a cat playing with a mouse," Fadecourt explained. "He derives such miserable pleasure as he may, from allowing his victims a maze in which to wander."

Matt frowned. "You're beginning to sound convincing."

"Yeah, well, it could also be that neither side is worth fighting for," Narlh pointed out. "You know how a man gets to be nobility here?"

"Why...he gets born. Doesn't he?"

"Sure, and he gets killed off fast, if he doesn't show any sign of being just as cruel as his papa is," Narlh snorted. "'Nobility' in Gordogrosso's Ibile means being more brutal than the brutes and more merciless than the mercenaries."

"He speaks truth," Fadecourt said, his voice low. "Only those who delight in cruelty, and are swift to strike and slow to repent, become knights of Gordogrosso's liege men. And to become a baron, one must be also harsh and ruthless, and skilled in treachery."

Matt frowned. "Then how can Gordogrosso trust his vassals?"

"He cannot. He trusts them to seek their own advantage, and leads them by the force of their own greed."

"So he can trust them to do what's best for themselves," Matt said, glowering, "and he makes sure following his orders is in their greatest self-interest."

"Aye," Fadecourt said. "So if you would help a lord who is besieged, you would be aiding one villain against another who besets him."

"Choosing the lesser of two evils, is that it? Gordogrosso just lets his barons slug it out with each other whenever they want to?"

"Oh, nay! They must have his leave—or be sure he'll turn a blind eye."

"Which is to say, the pocket war has to be in his interest," Matt interpreted. "But doesn't that mean one of the two barons is less evil than the other? At least enough to get Gordogrosso mad at him?"

Narlh and Fadecourt exchanged a startled glance.

"It may be," the cyclops said slowly, "though it may more easily be that the one of them has angered Gordogrosso in some way, mayhap by insolence or by overreaching himself."

"Possible," Matt agreed, "but it's also possible that he won Gordogrosso's anger by trying to be good."

"Yeah, well, that could be," Narlh argued, "but even if it was, how could you tell which baron was the good guy?"

"By which side Gordogrosso has lent troops to." Matt lifted a hand to forestall Narlh's protest. "I know, I know, he might not have troops with either side. But we'll never know if we don't go look, will we?"

"I can think of safer ways to gather information," Narlh growled.

"Even if 'tis so, Lord Wizard, what advantage is there for you or your goal in aiding the one of them?" Fadecourt asked.

"That kind of thinking leads to capitulating to the forces of evil," Matt said, pointing the finger at him. "Or, more concisely, selling out. But now that you raise the question, any enemy of Gordogrosso's is an ally of ours. And you'll pardon me for saying it, but we could use a few allies. Look, it really won't take that long just to go check it out, will it?"

Narlh and Fadecourt exchanged one final glance. Then the cyclops sighed and turned off the road. "As you will have it, Lord Wizard. Follow—'tis off to the north, this way."

Four siege towers were set against one wall of the castle, and the crossbowmen on their tops were firing from behind thick leather shields. As Matt watched, one of them fell to the ground—probably screaming, but their hilltop blind was too far away to hear anything but a steady roar, punctuated by metallic clashings. In spite of their few losses, the arbalesters had swept the ramparts almost clear—certainly clear enough so that the attacker's knights were streaming onto the walls, followed by their soldiers. A few defenders rose up to obstruct them, but the invaders clustered around them and chopped them to bits. As Matt and his friends watched, the drawbridge came thundering down.

"The porter is dead," Fadecourt interpreted, "and they have cut the stays of the windlass. No matter how good your intentions, Lord Wizard, we have come too late."

"Too bad." Matt scowled at the distant scene, mentally berating himself for not having come sooner. "I'd like to know if it matters, though." Which translated as wanting to know just how guilty he should feel. "Can you see if any of them are king's men?"

"I can," Narlh grunted. "I was hatched for high sight, remember?"

"Eyes like an eagle?" Matt looked up, startled.

"Those shortsighted pests? Don't make me laugh. And, uh—yeah, the crossbowmen on top are all wearing the same colors. Same as the first troops in over the battlements, too."

"What hues are they?" Fadecourt asked.

"Red and black."

"Blood and mourning." Fadecourt's face settled into grim lines. "They are Gordogrosso's troops, indeed."

"Could it be the lord of this castle was less evil than most of his breed?" Matt asked.

"More likely overly ambitious—but even then, he could have proved a useful foil for us, to keep the king's attention whiles we came up behind. I do now regret that we came late."

"Maybe not completely." Matt tried to close his ears to the cries of dismay. "There's a chance the master of the house is staging a getaway."

"And leaving his men to bear the brunt of the assault." Fadecourt nodded, tight-lipped. "Aye; it hath the stamp of Gordogrosso's nobles. Would you help such a one, then?"

"Long enough to ask him a few questions. If he's as bad as you think, we can always leave him to his fate—but if he could be useful, we might help him get clear. Think we can find the postern?"

"Aye, if we must." Fadecourt sighed. "`And after seeing that we may have missed a worthy chance, I'm not inclined to argue. Follow, then—we'll make the circuit of the walls. But from the ridge-top, an it please you."

"Sure." Matt looked back anxiously as they turned away. "I—don't suppose there's anything I can do to stop what's going on?"

"Sure," Narlh grunted. "You're the wizard, aren't you? But you can bet your bonnet there's a whole coven of sorcerers in there, on the king's side. In this country, that's probably why they won—out-magicked. Do you really think you'd do any good by taking 'em all on?"

"Not much, I'm afraid." Matt sighed. "Not that I wouldn't try, if I were sure it was worth it. Come on, let's find out."

They circled the castle, staying in the hills about half a mile distant, with the clash of battle ringing in the distance. It made Matt uneasy—he was still feeling guilty about not having intervened in time to save the farmers at the first village; that old attitude of "It's not my fight" so naturally took over. He felt he should intervene here, instead of skulking about. But his friends were right, there was no point in helping one villain against another, especially when he didn't know which was worse—or of jeopardizing his main mission by trying to help the underdog, as an automatic reflex.

Finally, he woke to the fact that they had come an awfully long way and were taking an even longer time trying to find that postern gate. "Uh—Fadecourt?"

"Aye, Wizard?"

"You do know where this back door is, don't you?"

Fadecourt shook his head. "I do not know this castle itself. I know only where the postern should be, not where it is."

"Which is?" Matt frowned.

"Toward the rear of the castle, or at least far from the gatehouse—wherefore have two doors side by side? And it should be near a watercourse, or a rocky defile that would hide those who flee."

"Both of which make it a good place for an attack," Matt noted. "So it would be pretty well guarded."

"Aye, or quite secret—in which case, it will be hidden."

Matt frowned. "So how are we to...Hey!"

"What'sa matter?" Narlh snapped.

"I see them." Fadecourt pointed.

Two knights were galloping uphill toward them, with a score of pikemen behind.

"What're they after?"

"Fugitives, at a guess."

"Them? They've got the royal livery!"

"No, no! They're chasing fugitives!"

"So I would conjecture," Fadecourt agreed. "Therefore, let us find them first, that we may learn—"

Three horses broke out of the scrub growth a hundred feet away, charging hell-bent for leather right at them. The first was a lady, the two behind her knights.

"Aside!" Fadecourt suited the action to the word. "Let them pass; we know not what they be."

But the two knights weren't of so generous a turn of mind. They saw the companions and turned their mounts, veering toward Matt and Fadecourt. Undeterred by the sight of Narlh, they leveled their lances and charged. The woman sped by Matt—he had an impression of chestnut hair whipping about behind a drawn and wide-eyed face, and a figure as graceful as the gazelle she was now imitating in her flight—then she was gone, sped past him, still fleeing.

"What're they after us for?" Matt wailed.

"Our large friend, and my poor self, are not the least threatening of beings, in appearance," Fadecourt grated. "Let us disarm them gently."

"Disarm them? I'm getting out of their way!" Matt leaped aside.

"That is the first step," Fadecourt agreed, but he stayed standing in the roadway.

"Jump!" Matt cried. "Or your name will be shashlik!"

Still Fadecourt stood his ground, glaring up along the lances at the knights, and Matt tried to think up a quick swerving spell. Of course, he didn't need to; at the last minute, Fadecourt cried, "Now!" and leaped aside, and Narlh spun off the path in a surprisingly graceful double turn. The knights shouted in anger, but thundered on by; they were going too fast to stop or turn.

"This time, we will unseat them," Fadecourt said calmly, as he stepped back onto the path.

"Are you crazy?" Matt shouted. "Those guys are medieval steamrollers!"

"What kinda beasts are those?" Narlh looked up, interested.

"They'll not come so quickly now," Fadecourt pointed out.

But he was wrong. The knights reined in their mounts at the end of the meadow, turned, and came thundering back, lances leveled, building up more and more speed.

Fadecourt frowned. "That is not as they should do."

Matt looked up and shouted, "It's not you! They've got bigger game to worry about!"

Fadecourt looked up, indignant and offended—then looked where Matt was pointing and saw the two pursuing knights charging straight for him, with their pack of pikes in full voice behind them.

The cyclops took the better part of valor and leaped for Narlh, crying, "Away!"

Matt dashed to join them, calling, "Is it time to help the good guys yet?"

"We ken not who they may be! Wizard, away!"

Whatever the merits of the two lone knights, they weren't short on courage. They galloped full out toward the pursuers, blind to the mob. But their enemies were just as doughty, and their lances just as long. They slammed into the fugitives with a crash like an iron foundry going broke. Lances splintered; someone screamed; a body slammed down to the ground; and Matt squeezed his eyes shut. When he looked again, the two fugitives were down, along with one horse; the other was galloping away. The knights rode on over their bodies, unheeding, galloping toward the woods. The pikemen paused long enough to make sure the knights were dead, stabbing through the joints with their pikes, then ran after their leaders.

Matt winced. "Not long on mercy, are they?" Then he suddenly realized the knights were chasing nothing—at least, as far as he could see. "Hey! Where'd the lady go?"

"Into the woods," Fadecourt answered, tight-lipped. "If you wouldst save her, Wizard, 'tis now you must cast your spell."

Matt frowned. "Wait a minute, no. All along, you've been telling me not to pitch in until I know which side is good and which is evil. How come all of a sudden you know?"

"Why, because she is a woman."

Matt stared.

Then he sighed and said, "One of these days, I'll figure out the logic of that—or else I'll have to admit that chivalry can become a knee-jerk reflex. Okay, I'll try to give her a little help.

Huge forces seemed to bend about him, and he actually felt his words slowing as he spoke—but he plowed ahead, finishing the verse with, sweat starting from his brow. He drew a ragged breath and shrugged. "That's about all I can do."

"Mayhap not." Fadecourt ran toward the fallen knights, chivalry personified.

"Right," Matt muttered, following at an uninspired jog. "What's it matter if they were just trying to carve your brisket? They're down and helpless, that's all that matters." Nonetheless, he came up behind the kneeling cyclops to see what he could do.

"Naught here—he is dead." Fadecourt turned to the second knight, his face grim. "Ha! He lives!"

"No...torture," the knight grated. "Quick...death."

"Doesn't he have any chance?" Narlh came up behind Matt.

Fadecourt pointed to the blood welling out of the knight's armor in a widening pool and shook his head.

Narlh nodded, his beaked face unreadable. "Nothing I can do here, then. I better go check up on the woman." He turned away and loped off down the trail.

"Good." The dying man had pushed the girl out of Matt's mind for the moment—but Narlh was right, she might need protection. Or reassurance, anyway—though Matt could think of much more reassuring sights than the dracogriff. She was likely to hide at the slightest glimpse of him, especially since the knights had been chasing her.

Of course, that was assuming she was innocent, and not a major villainess herself. In this country, though, Matt couldn't imagine that the knights could have had any moral reason for chasing her.

But moral or not, the man was dying. Matt understood why Fadecourt was so sure the knight had no chance of survival. If the pikemen hadn't been so zealous, the knight might have lived. What kind of medieval society was this, anyway? In his Europe, a peasant soldier would have been hanged for killing one of his betters, even if by accident.

"We are wanderers," Fadecourt told the knight, "not foemen. Can we ease you?"

"Aye. Shrive...me."

Matt stared. "Listen to your confession, and give you forgiveness?"

Suddenly, Fadecourt looked helpless. "We cannot; we are not priests."

"Repentance is enough." Matt knelt beside Fadecourt. "If you're sorry for your sins, you won't be damned."

"I...repent..." The knight's body convulsed. "Aieeee!"

"His master listens," Fadecourt said, thin-lipped, "and punishes him for his repentance."

"Repentance." Anger boiled—the sorcerers could at least let the man die in peace. But of course, that would have been the reverse of their main purpose, wouldn't it? Damning as many souls as possible. Matt lifted his head with grim resolve. He'd already worked one spell here, and if hanged for the kid, be hanged for the goat.

Matt felt the force of magic moving outward from himself, against very heavy resistance—but as long as it held, it was accomplishing its purpose: keeping the evil magic away from the dying man, so that he could pass in grace. "Gramercy," he panted. "I must...recompense..."

"You must die well." Matt set a hand on his arm. "Think of Heaven."

"Nay...of earth. No...debt."

"He will not die beholden," Fadecourt interpreted. "Give him some small assurance that his last charge is fulfilled."

"What, the maiden he was riding with?" Matt asked. "Be of good cheer, Sir Knight—she made it into the forest well ahead of her pursuers, and they're going to have tough going among those branches, so she'll probably be safe."

"Gramercy..." The knight's face twisted with sudden pain. "I have...discharged..." Then his face froze, eyes staring, and his whole body went rigid—then limp, and a last breath hissed out.

"Discharged your duty," Fadecourt finished, and reached over to close the man's eyes. "Good rest to you, Sir Knight—and may your toils in Purgatory be light." He stood, face grim, then turned to look down at Matt. "Come. Let us do what we can to fulfill his last charge."

"Right." Matt stood up and followed Fadecourt toward the trees.

As they came in under the leaves, they heard several voices shouting, with a lot of slashing and crashing. Fadecourt pressed Matt back behind a trunk, and three pikemen came barreling past them toward the meadow, shouting with anger and outrage. Fadecourt looked up at Matt in inquiry. "What did they see?"

"Heaven only knows," Matt said, "and I don't think I want to. Any idea which way the lady went?"

Fadecourt did, as it turned out—among his other skills, he was an excellent tracker. Not that it needed much skill, to tell that a horse had blundered through where there wasn't any trail—but how the cyclops could tell which horse had been ridden by a woman, Matt couldn't begin to guess. Still, Fadecourt followed the trail unerringly—until they came to a small clearing and discovered the horse contentedly cropping the grass. Fadecourt looked grim, but he simply searched the perimeter of the clearing...then kept on searching, until he'd come back to Matt. He frowned, puzzled. "I had found her trace—then realized it could not be hers. I searched on, found it again—and knew it for a false trail. Then I came upon the true trail...yet was suddenly uncertain that..."

Something was making an awful lot of crashing in the brush, was coming nearer. The horse lifted its head, staring in the direction of the sound, sniffed the breeze, then gave a whinnying scream and ran off the other way.

"Beware!" Fadecourt held up a hand. "What moves..."

The crashing exploded into a roar, and the roar resolved itself into words. "Fershlugginer unprintable mirandible hob-goblin! How in a harpy's hasp did the trail get trounced?" Matt relaxed. "I don't think it's anything to worry about."

A huge body burst through the screen of brush and let out a roar of exasperation that ended in a two-foot tongue of flame. "How can a body expect a poor dracogriff to find a fool slip of a girl if the unprintable trail keeps changing on him!"

"We're having the same problem, too, Narlh." Matt stepped away from the trees out into the clearing. "At least, Fadecourt is—I couldn't have found enough trail to get confused about in the first place."

"Oh. You guys, huh?" Narlh paced up to them, still steaming. "A fine, thankless job you gave me, Wizard!"

Things suddenly connected, and Matt admitted, "Sorry. The more so because the confusion's my doing, I guess."

"Your what?" Narlh bleated, and Fadecourt looked up, startled. "How could it be so, Wizard?"

"Because I cast a confusion spell on anyone following her," Matt explained, with a sheepish try at a smile. "I forgot we might want to find her ourselves."

"Oh, real smart, Wizard! Real smart!" Narlh fumed. "I mean, you coulda thought of that before you sent me off chasing wild geese, y' know?"

Fadecourt wasn't looking too happy, either, but he said, "Aye. I heard the spell, too. I should ha' thought of it also."

"Nice of you to say so." Matt sighed. "But I'm afraid it's really no one's doing but mine."

"Can you not disperse the spell you've cast?"

"Sure—but the men who're chasing her might find her, too, then. And I can't be any more specific, waiving the spell just for us and not for them, without knowing her name or something else to identify her by."

"How come?" Narlh demanded, but Fadecourt held up a hand. "Do not ask, or he might answer—at more length than we wish."

Matt's mouth tightened in chagrin. He'd felt the old college instructor's juices starting to flow again and had been all ready to launch into a lecture.

"Right." He sighed. "Well, I guess the best we can do now is to set up camp and hope we hear her yell if she needs help."

"Well thought," Fadecourt agreed, "but not in midwood, with enemies thrashing about it, an it please you. Let us go seek some more defensible site."

"Not a bad idea," Matt agreed. "Maybe some high ground, anyway, even if we can't get out of the trees."

"I will be glad that our enemies must toil uphill to come upon us," Fadecourt answered. "Come, gentles—let us seek a slope."

He turned away, and Narlh fell into step beside Matt. " `Gentles'? Who's he calling 'gentles'?"

"You and me," Matt assured him.

"Is that a compliment, or an insult?"

"A compliment, coming from him—so it shouldn't be an insult, going to you."

Narlh looked at him sharply. "You saying that what I'm hearing might not be what he's saying?"

"I've known it to happen." Matt sighed. "Let's just find a campsite, Narlh."