The Crown of Dalemark. Diana Wynne Jones

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      THE CONFUSION CLEARED up surprisingly quickly. Mitt was almost alone in the yard, wondering what on earth to do now, when Navis put a hand on his shoulder.

      “Come to my room,” he said. “Tell me your news there.”

      Funny, Mitt thought, staring slightly downwards into Navis’s cool, clear-cut face. I don’t remember him being that small. Maybe I grew. “I would if I could walk,” he said.

      Navis smiled a little. “It’s not far. But I can’t carry you.”

      He turned and led the way. Mitt hobbled after him, protesting, “I do know how to ride! It’s just that I never did it for a whole day before!” They went through the hall, big enough, but a dark little place compared with the one at Aberath, and up a shallow flight of steps. Navis had a comfortable panelled room beyond, as good as one of Alk’s. Typical, Mitt thought, looking round. He must be well in with Lord Stair. “How did you know I got news?”

      “Hush a moment,” Navis said. Two serving-men came into the room. They were grinning rather and carrying a large bowl of something sour and strong. They dumped it where Navis pointed and then hung about, lingeringly, as if there was some joke. “Thank you,” Navis said, “but we’d like to be private now.”

      “What is this?” Mitt said suspiciously as the men left, still grinning.

      “Vinegar,” said Navis. “Take your leathers off and sit in it. Go on. It works.”

      Slowly, with misgivings, Mitt did as Navis said. He sat. Yelled. Tried to get out again and found himself held down by Navis’s unexpectedly strong hand. Vinegar spilt on the rugs, and Mitt went on yelling, even though he was sure the two men were standing outside the door loving every shriek. “Flaming Ammet!” he roared. “Are you trying to kill me?”

      “No,” said Navis, and he went on holding Mitt down until Mitt’s yells had given way to gasps and then to miserable panting. Then he let go and went to the half-open door. “That will be all,” he said, and closed the door.

      Mitt heard footsteps retreating. “Can I get out now?”

      “The longer you stay in, the sooner you’ll be able to ride again,” Navis said. “Tell me your news to take your mind off it.” It was on the tip of Mitt’s tongue to tell Navis he was as bad as Earl Keril, but he did not say it because he suddenly realised it was true. Navis, in his way, could be quite as ruthless as Keril. Earls’ blood will out! Mitt thought. He was wondering if he was going to be able to tell Navis anything after all when Navis added, “They wouldn’t have let you leave Aberath without very good reason, I’m sure.” Very strong bitterness came through his coolness.

      He feels just as caught as I do! Mitt thought. “Well, before I start, do you know where Hildy is?”

      “In Gardale,” said Navis. “Though, from the one letter she deigned to send, I wondered if she wasn’t in the moon.”

      “I got one of those,” Mitt said. “Total gibberish. And Ynen? You have any idea where Ynen is?”

      “No,” said Navis. There was a cold little silence before Navis said, “No. No one has bothered to tell me that. Is that why they let you see me? To bring me a threat?”

      “That may be part of it,” Mitt said. “They must have reckoned I’d tell you. Navis, they want me to kill that girl Noreth. And I tell you I rode most of the way here with her and she’s no madder than what I am!”

      “Sit still,” said Navis. “You’ll get vinegar everywhere.” He drew up a chair and sat facing Mitt in his bowl. “Tell me this carefully. Who wants you to?”

      “The Countess and Earl Keril,” said Mitt. “Talk about your past catching up with you! They found out all about me.”

      “Keril,” said Navis. “Keril. Then, Mitt, you are not the only one whose past has caught up with him. I once risked a good deal to send a message to Keril to warn him that his sons were prisoners in Holand. He must have taken it as a threat. What did he say?”

      Mitt sat in his bowl and told Navis everything, including his ride with Noreth. The only thing he left out was the way he had thought the Aden was a mighty river. He was not sure he believed that himself now. He found he felt a little tearful as he talked, not for obvious reasons but because Navis was listening and not treating him as the scum of the earth.

      “That statue,” Navis said. “You were a little overgenerous there. Can you persuade her to give you your half?”

      “Chop it in two? Why?” said Mitt.

      “Because if it is solid gold,” said Navis, “neither of us need depend on the charity of earls. We could leave tonight. Mitt, I don’t like this at all. You hear a great deal about Noreth here in Adenmouth. She is much loved. If anything happened to her, there would be an outcry all down the coast dales as far as Kinghaven. You are an obvious Southerner. Yet they send you after her in full Aberath livery. What are they playing at? Everyone will know Aberath had a hand in it, however villainous they say you are.”

      “I’m not doing it,” said Mitt. “I can’t. That’s final. But what do we do?”

      “We leave,” said Navis, “as soon as I think of an excuse, with your share of the gold if possible. We look for Ynen and we cut short Hildrida’s education and we hope we can get to them before Keril finds out.” He sighed. “Then we all go into hiding again. Meanwhile, keep sitting. You have to be able to ride.”

      Mitt sat for another hour. During that time the big panelled room darkened, and drops of rain patterned on the tall window. Lady Eltruda’s voice was heard bawling for Navis to see about awnings over the yard. Navis hurried away. He came back only to be called away to see about candles. By the time he was back from that, the clouds had passed and red-gold sunlight was slanting into the room. Lady Eltruda bawled that it was going to be fine after all, and Navis hurried off to have the awnings rolled away. Mitt saw why Navis seemed so well in with Lord Stair. People welcomed a little Southern efficiency round here. He grinned as he watched Navis come back and dress for the feast, with the same efficiency, in a ruffled shirt and blue-green Adenmouth livery. You wouldn’t think, to look at him, that Navis must have been dressed by a valet all his life until these last months.

      “You can get out now and wash,” Navis said.

      Mitt did so. He was not sore any more, not even tender. In fact, he was as smooth and leathery as his own buff and gold Aberath livery. “You pickled me!” he said.

      “That was the idea,” said Navis.

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