Rescue Plot

I wonder if it is the same with others as it was with me: I became a man all in one moment. Or rather, after that moment of my life, I understood that I was no longer a child. I do not believe it was the beating the Good Doctor gave me after Robenc reappeared, or the beating alone, that precipitated this transformation: quite simply I realized there was no other path but the one before me.

The Good Doctor had to be stopped; the Historian had to be freed. This was the reason I was here; my whole life had led me to this place, this time, this mission. Nothing would or could stop me.

My first thought, naturally, was to assassinate the Good Doctor. But then freeing the Historian would become impossibly hard, as I quickly realized. I also saw that I would never be able to perform this latter deed without help, and my first thought was Robenc.

But how was I to contact him? My time was entirely consumed by my duties for the Good Doctor; were I to disappear from my billet, the suspicions of my fellows would be aroused, and I remembered the Superius Frater's advice to trust no one.

Fortunately, the thrashing the Good Doctor had given me provided an excuse to visit the infirmary, which, although still within the compound, was not immediately within the compass of the Good Doctor's mistrustful gaze.

And I was not feigning my discomfort, only its extent — I told him I could barely walk at all. He was of course much displeased that I was going, but he authorized the release, which stated that I had fallen down the stairs.

Once in the infirmary, my pathetic appearance melted the heart of the matron, who made me her special charge and care. The surgeon was not terribly concerned about my injuries — the Good Doctor had made sure they would be consistent with a fall down the stairs — but he was interested in my lame leg, apparently something of a specialty with him.

Between the two of them I found that I would be staying for a while, perhaps as long as a week, which would give me time to think and plan.

I felt sure that the Historian's examination would be suspended until my return — I strongly suspected that the Good Doctor had been exceeding his authority in some way, even before he lied to Robenc, and wanted as few witnesses as possible to this particular interrogation.

He would, however, be most anxious to resume: Robenc was unlikely to leave this matter alone, and the Good Doctor wanted to break this stubborn man's spirit before Robenc could mount any serious interference.

And then on my third day, an unexpected gift! Robenc himself appeared at the infirmary to visit an old friend who had been admitted the night before, and given a bed next to mine.

At first Robenc seemed not to notice me, but talked jovially with his friend, evidently an old stratiotés with whom he had once shared duty. But after a time they both looked around carefully, and, determining that neither the surgeon nor the matron was anywhere about, turned to me.

'Brother Egderus,' Robenc said. 'You gave me a signal the last time we met, in the office of the Good Doctor. Did you eavesdrop on our conversation?'

I nodded.

'And is the Historian in the Good Doctor's custody?'

Again I nodded.

'I must release him, and I need your help.'

At first I could not find my voice. 'What can I do?' I finally croaked.

Robenc smiled and turned to his friend. 'You see, Aric? I told you Egderus would be with us.' He looked at me again. 'Aric was stationed at Mountain House for seven years. I am surprised you did not recognize him. He says he remembers you well.'

I looked at the man between us in amazement. His brownish hair and beard were grizzled now, but I faintly recalled those large hazel eyes, and that expression of skeptical amusement with which they now regarded me.

'He is now sub-praetor in my lord's Bodyguard.'

'I get to hold my master Robenc's train in ceremonial processions,' Aric growled, baring his teeth affectionately at Robenc. 'I haven't been so bored since before Phylax Gig started chasing you young chickens about the hills and vales.'

At last I remembered him, and bowed my head in mute apology.

'That is another story,' Robenc continued, 'which you may persuade Aric to tell you, if you two run out of reminiscences about our old home.' He clapped Aric on the shoulder, but neither man's eyes left my face. They seemed to be waiting for me to say something.

I could only repeat, 'What can I do?'

'I will allow Aric to explain. Now I must be going, and I dare not return. But I will send messages to Aric here. Farewell, Brother Egderus. Your courage will be needed.' Then he was gone.

Aric smiled at me a long time before speaking. Finally he said, 'I remember you well, Brother Egderus. The lads thought you were feeble, you know, and not just in the legs. You seemed so timid, and you stayed in the house all the time. Very crafty, Brother Egderus, but you didn't fool me, then or now.'

He shifted uncomfortably in the bed, trying to adjust the too-small infirmary gown on his burly shoulders. Then he leaned towards me. 'You're going to need all the craft you have, as well as that courage Robenc seems to think you're full of.'

'What are we to do?' I asked. I did not like the way he was still half-smiling at me.

'In time, little brother. In time. We aren't going anywhere just yet. And I have to test you first.'

'What do you mean?'

'You've impressed my master Robenc in some way, but I've always thought him rather quick to believe his first impressions, if you know what I mean. I don't have his noble bearing, nor his rugged good looks; I'm not nearly so tall. In other words, I don't strike myself as an important person. Nor do you, little brother.'

'I never said — '

'I know. You never said a lot of things. Back there at Mountain House, when Phylax Gig came back in pieces, you never said you'd seen him on the road the day he disappeared.'

'I told Robenc.'

'You did? Now why didn't he tell me that?'

'Then how did you know?'

Aric sat back and regarded me for a moment. 'Very quick, little brother. You're doing well.'

'Is this the test?'

'It's all the test, little brother. Not a moment of your whole stinking life that ain't the test.'

'I am not your little brother.'

Again that half-smile, that almost mocking glitter in his eyes. 'Robenc said you were scrappy. Well, not many people have the nerve to talk back to a personage as imposing as our master Robenc. However, I'm not impressed.'

'Must I impress you?'

'As I said, you're doing well. But it's hard to trust a person who allows everyone to think he's a simpleton when he's not.'

'It's hard to trust anyone, is it not?' I said, meeting his gaze.

'Ah! So you've learned that, have you?'

'Advice from the Superius Frater, when I left Mountain House.'

'Oh?'

'"Trust no one," he said.'

'Did he? Well, then I guess he ought to know.'

'What do you mean?'

'Shall I tell you? Shall I tell you our secret plans? Shall I trust you?'

'You must be very bored if this amuses you.'

His nostrils flared, and a kind of fury kindled in his eyes. 'Don't think I'm a fool, little brother. This is not a joke, and I'm not here to play with you. My master Robenc believes this Historian is another important person like himself, and so he wants to rescue him. I'm sure this strikes him as noble and heroic, but it will entail considerable danger for me and for you if we proceed.'

'I'm not afraid of danger.'

'I believe you, and this worries me. It would not be the first time my master Robenc confused recklessness with courage.'

'Nor am I reckless.'

'Then what are you, little brother? What's this all about to you?'

'What's it all about to you?'

'Fair enough. Doing my duty is a matter of pride to me. I make it personal. If I can also minimize the damage to my commander and myself in the process, so much the better. Are you answered?'

'For the moment.'

'Then answer me.'

'And why must I? Is it not enough that your master Robenc has asked for my help?'

'That does not make you my master, little brother,' he said, though the humorous light was back in his eyes. 'But I see you will not be bullied. Very well. Perhaps I will have to betray my master's confidence before you will trust me enough to betray yours.'

'What do you mean?'

'My master Robenc will never tell you, and may not admit to himself, that what's driving him here is that he hates the Good Doctor and wants to bring him down — '

'So do I.'

'Do you, little brother? And is that just because he likes to dance on your ribs? Is that enough reason to ruin a man's career, to destroy him, to make his life not worth living? If all you want is to get back at a man who beat you up, I can arrange for some of my lads to stomp him good some night on his way home — simple, clean, and done. That is not what my master Robenc wants to do.'

'Nor I.'

'But why, little brother? That's the only question I need an answer to, and then the test is over.'

'The man is evil and he must be stopped.'

'Stopped from what? Is this Historian your boyfriend or something?'

Before that day, this question would have completely destroyed my composure. As it was, I certainly must have reddened, for Aric's eyebrows went up. But he also waited to see what I would have to say.

'You know what this man does. If you do not understand why he must be stopped, no one can explain it to you.'

I continued to look at him, watching his eyes as he weighed his decision. At last a slow smile spread across his face.

'My master Robenc is not the only one to be impressed by you, little brother. Or would you rather I not call you that, now that you've passed the test?'

I realized I had been holding my breath, and now let it out. 'No,' I said with a little laugh. 'I don't mind it, the way you said it just now.'

He reached over and took my hand. 'Very well: Little Brother it is.'

'Now tell me what we must do.'

'You must prepare some damaging documents and give them to Robenc.'

'What?!'

'Before my master can free this Historian — listen: we only have your word that the Historian is actually in the Good Doctor's loving care. We must be able to prove that the Good Doctor is deliberately disobeying the Golias.'

'I can maybe send for my work — though I cannot walk, I can still write. The task I had yet to complete was a session with the Historian.'

'Ooh. That sounds very good.'

It was not to be so easy. Naturally my master would prevent any documents from leaving his office, which eliminated my sending for my work: there would be no way to do that without arousing his very keen suspicion. But the next day one of my more sympathetic colleagues came to visit me, and I persuaded him to send me matériel — pages, a stylus, sand — and then began to reconstruct from memory the last examination the Good Doctor conducted on the Historian.

Aric wanted me to give him each page as I was done with it, but something told me I should keep my work with me until it was completed. This annoyed him more than anything else, because it was tiresome for him to just sit and watch me write, especially at the beginning, as I gradually rebuilt the interrogation in my memory, and required him not to bother me so that I could concentrate.

But when I had finished making new notae from which to render the realization, I told him we could converse if he wished. By then he was sulky.

'Oh, I see. Now the little brother has time for his friend Aric, who is about to get him out of this evil man's grasp. Now we can converse.'

'Silence is just as good for me,' I said breezily. 'If I do not have distractions, I can make this look really beautiful.'

'"Beautiful" isn't what we're after, little brother.'

'I know what will help. Tell me what happened to Phylax Gig. You must know, even if Robenc does not.'

He looked at me uneasily. 'Why do you want to know that?'

'I'm trying to keep you amused.'

'Well, it's not an amusing story.'

'Tell me anyway.'

Aric was silent for a moment. 'Robenc did find out what happened, he just didn't know what to do about it.'

'I don't understand.'

'The lads and I weren't pleased with Phylax Gig, there at the end, when he lost his grip. He wouldn't speak. He'd only grunt and growl, like an animal. We thought it was the drink finally getting to him.' He stopped, thinking.

'Was it?'

'No. Leastways we didn't think so after a while.'

'Why?'

'Well, because he wasn't drinking anymore, that we could see. I mean, he may have had a secret stash somewhere, but he had no need to hide it from us. Or anyone. No. Something happened to him, or he saw something, and he just snapped.'

'That explains everything.'

'If you're going to keep interrupting, I won't tell you the story.'

'Sorry.'

[Narrative breaks off here — Ed.]