The Doomfarers of Coramonde by Brian Daley Read Free Book Online Page B

substantial, though rather low by modern standards.
    Springbuck
brought up the rear into a courtyard where plants had pushed up insistently
through defeated cobblestones. There was much debris in sight—broken tools, a
useless wagon wheel, forgotten benches—and after three nights in the open, he
was sourly willing to wager that the roof of the place leaked.
    The little
courtyard was filled with villagers dashing to and fro. Standing atop a wagon
at the center of it all, giving commands to bring them to some semblance of
order, was the man known as Van Duyn, whom Springbuck recognized from his one
previous visit to Earthfast. He was a tall, lean man with gray-white hair and a
dour look about him that had made the Prince wonder if anything ever quite
satisfied him. His face was creased with worry, and a strange metal framework
secured a circle of glass before each of his eyes. Springbuck had once
reflected on a possible connection between this and Yardiff Bey’s single
ocular, but it was said that Van Duyn’s lenses simply helped him see more
clearly. A small part of the Prince wondered now if he might be able to acquire
such a device for himself.
    Springbuck
began to understand the discomfort of his father, the Protector Suzerain, at
hearing the thoughts of Van Duyn; the man could well bring disaster and chaos
to Coramonde. What caused usually docile commoners to respond to him so
readily, to jump with a will to his every order and stand by him so staunchly?
    “See that you
use the barbed arrows first,” the outlander was saying, just as the Prince
caught his eye. “Are you a Queen’s man, sir?” Van Duyn snapped curtly. “With
some new mandamus of arrest?”
    Thankful that
his war mask hid his features, the son of Surehand responded, “I was unaware of
your predicament when I came to hear your new teachings.”
    The outlander
laughed, scant humor in it. “My ‘predicament’ grows rapidly worse,” he shot
back. “Of these good people, one in three sees fit to offer his help. And you?
A week ago I would have welcomed you as a new student, but now you’ll have to
run or fight before you can learn.” He seemed to think his own words over for a
moment. “Perhaps you’ll prize the knowledge more for all of that. What do you
say?”
    The Prince
considered this. He had nowhere else to go. But to stay here was to court
capture or death. They were both the same for him, he realized.
    “I say,” he
replied at last, “that your people had better not use their barbed arrows. Use
the narrowest points first; they’ll punch through armor more readily. How will
so few resist troops of the Crown?”
    “I’m at a loss
to tell you. But you seem familiar with this sort of thing. Come, hold
conference with us, and we’ll decide.”
    Springbuck
dismounted and lead Fireheel toward the wagon as the locals gave way before
him. Van Duyn jumped down from his place and two others detached themselves
from the scurrying peasants to join him.
    The first with
the scholar was a man far shorter and bulkier than he, and the Prince knew him
as Andre deCourteney. The famous wizard was squat and plump, with a promise of
underlying muscle, and dressed, as was Van Duyn, in commoner’s clothing, but
had his sleeves rolled up and tunic open to reveal thick-matted hair in dark
rings on arms and chest. Although he was clean-shaven, his chin and flopping
jowls retained deep blue shadows. His head, however, was mostly bald. In his
eyes the Prince could see only a friendly look to second the smile he wore.
    The other one
was even more easily identified, if only from reputation. She was an intimidating
beauty of no certain age, with astoundingly red hair. Her brows were
high-arched over sea-green eyes, prominent cheekbones and a wide, sultry mouth,
contrary to the pouty vogue current at Court. Her skin held the whiteness of
milk and, unlike those around her, she dressed self-indulgently. Gracefully
wrapped in a long robe of glossy green-black