Two guards entered, both heavy set men, in boiled leather armor. They spotted me the instant the door opened, and quickly flanked it. Both held short, knobby maces and wore efficient looking daggers at their belts. As I pulled myself up from against a side wall of my confines, they motioned to someone standing outside, and a shadowed form moved forward.

I wondered what features, known or unknown, would present themselves. A figure stepped over the threshold and the face resolved. Mage Orton! Of those expected, MaCaan, the Mage Veddek, Duke Felway or Wayland, certainly Orton had not been high on the list. I was in the hands of Wayland, after all. I tried to imagine why that might be.

Orton crossed to me, a small bundle swinging from his left hand.

"Peace," he hissed. "This is none of my doing. Wayland had his men bring you here. I have some food, clean water, and clean rags to refresh you. Drink up."

I accepted the bundle with scant decorum, quickly unwrapping it, thrusting the first thing found into my mouth. The first morsel of food in recent memory went down half chewed. Discovering the water container, I swallowed, gagged, and then finished it off, following with another item, a biscuit, I think. It was several mouthfuls later before I spoke.

"Why?" It was a simple question, but voiced with anger, both a plea and a demand.

Orton looked quickly over his shoulder at the two guards, and then turned his attention back to me. "A number of things. First, reports of your...unusual prowess during the affair at Mount Esh. Thavis has been wildly enthusiastic about your abilities. He is somewhat naive as to how such things can be taken. Most put it down to exaggeration, but the Duke gets reports from dependable men, as well."

I looked about wrathfully. "I am here because I fought well?"

Orton raised his hands to silence me.

"You took down six Burlies without help and dismembered two giants. You walked through a fiery furnace unscathed. You..." Orton sighed, then tried again. "Wayland has squeezed from MaCaan, under light, considering the circumstances, questioning, information connecting your appearance with MaCaan's wanderings. He has a device of your world, the--rifle, is that right? MaCaan had the stupidity of firing it once before he was taken."

"But certainly Wayland had the sense to pry the facts of the affair from Duke Felway?" I blurted, "and I have explained the arms of my ..."

"Duke Felway abandoned the court before we left for Mount Esh. May-Anne and I are sure he knew he would be suspect, even before we reported to Wayland. Some of our Duke's household servants are in his pay, likely." Orton dismissed this, with a wave. "Your arrival in Corbell did not go unmarked. The Duke knows Felway and Veddek are attempting an invasion. Wayland is more worried than he shows about these Demon troubles. No one has connected these issues with the Corm Da or the God Credine yet. Veddek's lackey, MaCaan, has maintained wit enough not to tell all. Good and bad, in that. I would dearly love to know the details myself. Wayland still doesn't know what Veddek's servant wanted on Mount Esh. Likely thinks MaCaan was just trying to fort up, after seeding the road, and was awaiting aid. I think he was looking for something, and wanted you kept away, or killed. You must understand that the Duke thinks the fief is under attack. Which it is, William."

"So he put me here to make sure I don't run off?

"Chord and I have spoken for you, but Wayland would not release you until he is satisfied he knows your part in this. Too many answerable parties have slipped away from him. We have sued to get you accorded privilege of rank, which means house arrest with better quarters. He will want to make amends soon enough. He is greedy for what you might know. Chord has been expansive in detailing what you have done, and may do, for the kingdom and vouched that you haven't set foot out of his district since your arrival, until you were called here. There is no word yet from the King. So all is shaded still. I don't think he is directly responsible for your rough handling, but what men were at the mount, you did frighten them. Not everyone responds as does Thavis to such things. Just be happy they don't suspect even so little as we have uncovered."

I was not mollified, and my stomach knotted on itself as if the meal had been a foreign object.

"They sapped me. While my back was turned."

"Yes, yes, I was told. Unfortunate."

"Unfortunate!"

Orton's eyes grew steely, and he looked at me intently. "You have been...inconvenienced. That is unfortunate. You are in one piece and still breathe, and that is remarkable. You are scheduled to be out of this hole in an hour, with some recognition of rank, which is astonishing. Get hold of your wits. You have no idea how many have labored to make this happen. By the way, you are now engaged, and a Squire to Baron Chord. You were, at least, familiar with Mage Chord's rank?

"His rank, yes, Barron, I...What do you mean engaged?" The words sank in slowly, my mind still adjusting to what I had heard.

"Engaged," Orton repeated, favoring me with both a frown and a twinkle in his eye at the same time. "As in to be wed. Your pending marriage to Chord's daughter was announced at court. How do you think we arranged to get you privilege of rank? "

I sputtered, at the same time wondering what Dimanda thought of this. I reminded myself that this was not a modern democracy, barely even a medieval Monarchy. Too many of the ramifications of this fact had passed me by.

"Dimanda agreed to this?"

"Dimanda doesn't want to see your life bubble out your lungs with stockade sickness. We can annul the marriage later," Orton's eyes slitted slyly, "if you like, though it is obvious to everyone that you two are fated for each other. Strange world you must come from, where men mince about and dither over such matters. Though," he reflected, "Chord is almost as bad, comes to May-Anne. Odd fellow. It is not done so here. In any case, Chord and I need you out and about, especially now. We don't want to see you harshly questioned, in a political, possibly ecumenical affair, if that meets with your approval. Of course, if you don't need fingernails, and hot lead holds some fascination for you..."

"No, no - I don't mean to sound ungrateful for your efforts." My mind wandered again to Dimanda, and I knew it was true. She was the answer to my life, and I had not faced it, had buried it, telling myself all kinds of reasons why I should not admit it.

Such a simple fact, she had seen it in me, had made plain her feelings in return. Everyone around us had understood it, but shoving my true feelings down into that pit of fear inside, I had left her unanswered. To put herself forward on faith alone, to salvage me, was beyond my understanding, and the power of it shamed me.

"Sir Connor put in a good word for you as well, you know. There could be a Knighthood in your future, if you care to try for such things. Put all this behind you. We have more important things to tend to."

Mage Orton patted me on the back, and then wiped his hands off on one of the cloths he had brought. "We need the hour to finalize the patents – minor, of course, your station is of the lesser rank, but Wayland will see it guaranteed by Chord formally before your release is affirmed. Wayland does not want to risk anything where the king's business is directly concerned. It is a matter of fealty as practiced here. Wipe yourself down, and bind up your head meantime. I need to go now, so save your questions. Chord is supposed to lead you out later, but..."

The mage threw another glance toward the guards. "It would be... premature, possibly dangerous, were Wayland to question you right now, so all I have said is a ruse now anyway. You're going to be kidnapped just before Chord's arrival."

I must have looked thoroughly confused. "What? Your arrangements..."

Orton shushed me and whispered, "are for your protection and ours. None of us must appear to have a part in this, obviously. A run-amok Gort will break in, and carry you off to a place of safety. We will put it to some machination of the demons if you are seen. A good trick, that was. Reports have already been paid for, establishing glimpses of you being taken off toward Felway's holdings kicking and screaming."

Orton wrinkled his nose. "They will drift in from time to time over the next few days." There will be a search, but you will not be found. In time, you can return a hero, with luck. Stifle yourself. I have to leave now."

Orton left and the guards followed, sealing me in. Orton had left me caught in a whirl of plans, subterfuge, and knotted intrigues completely foreign to my thinking. I was not sure I liked the plan as presented but the thought of standing to, trying to answer the sly faced and moody countenance of Wayland, held no appeal, especially when I had no answers to give.

It was more than an hour, I think.