DER PLAN

German, "the plan"

It was foolish indeed -- thus to run farther and farther from all who could help her, as if she had been seeking a fit spot for the goblin creature to eat her in at his leisure; but that is the way fear serves us: it always sides with the thing we are afraid of. -- George MacDonald, The Princess and the Goblin

Pushing though the twigs and leaves of the bushes left both of Diarnlan's hands stinging and cut. The gash from the window was still bleeding sluggishly. Her trousers and shoes had become so dirty that they provided some measure of camouflage. Her hair was full of enough leaves to cover a small bush. Worst of all, her ankle throbbed dully when she wasn't putting weight on that foot, then became sheer agony as soon as she did put weight on it.

She collapsed on the grass as soon as she was on the far side on the hedges. For a minute she stared up at the sky, in too much pain to even consider moving. Then she remembered the figure watching her. She thought of the lunatic who'd kidnapped her. The gods alone knew what he was planning. His deranged ramblings had shown he believed he'd already killed her, so it was easy to deduce he intended to kill her yet again.

An image intruded in her mind; an image of herself stabbing a boy in the back and shoving him underwater. It was so vivid that Diarnlan had to rub her eyes just to make sure she wasn't actually seeing it right now.

This is ridiculous, she thought. His insanity is beginning to rub off on me.

She sat up and looked around. Nothing but fields and hedges and trees as far as the eye could see. No sign of any houses, herds, or people. She couldn't even spot any roads.

This doesn't look like eastern or central Avallot. And it certainly isn't the northern counties.

Unfortunately those were the only parts of her homeland she had been to. The logical conclusion was that she was in either western or southern Avallot, but she didn't know enough about either to make an educated guess. The lack of farms or livestock suggested the southern counties. The only problem was the southern counties were full of mines. Diarnlan hadn't given much thought to what they looked like, but she certainly didn't expect them to have so many fields and no mines in sight.

Amidst a group of trees she spotted a flicker of grey. She looked again sharply. No, her eyes weren't playing tricks on her. That really was smoke. And smoke meant a fire, which meant people and probably a house. She scrambled to her feet, ignoring the stabs of pain that shot through her ankle, and ran towards those trees.

Ahead of her a path came into view. Diarnlan sped up. By the time she reached it her ankle had become so sore that she couldn't run any more. Instead she hobbled along the path. On either side of it grew trees of some sort she hadn't seen before. She stopped to catch her breath leaning against one. Her ankle now ached even when she wasn't standing on it. If she had the time to wait she would have cast a healing spell. She wasn't good at them, but at least she could stop the pain until she got to a doctor.

Even with the shelter provided by the trees she was still too conspicuous. Anyone who approached from behind would see her at once. Diarnlan limped on until the path rounded a corner. The trees were replaced with large bushes that someone had sculpted into shapes. Humanoid shapes, in fact. And some artistically-talented gardener had clipped the foliage at the top into something that looked like a face.

Diarnlan stared up at them with an odd feeling of foreboding. She'd never heard of anyone doing that to bushes in Avallot. The art of tree-sculpting had been invented by the empire of Drekakuria. They'd introduced it to other places, but it had never caught on in Avallot. No one wanted to practice a style of gardening associated with their enemies and would-be conquerors.

She went on, more warily now. Around the next corner she found a huge iron gate. Across the middle of it was an iron plate with writing on it. Her heart sank. That wasn't Avallese writing. It was a sort of writing she'd seen only once before -- in a Miavish document from before its fall to the Bone-Worshippers.

It was impossible. No one could teleport through the wards around Miavain. No one could even teleport from central Avallot to the Miavish border. Anyone who tried would probably kill themselves. The wards were specifically designed not to let people through. Or was it that they were only supposed to keep the Miavish people in? Diarnlan wasted several minutes puzzling over this.

She approached the gates as gingerly as if she expected them to come to life and attack her. As far as she could tell she hadn't set any alarms off yet. Carefully she peered through the bars. What she saw just made her heart sink further. The path widened into a cobbled courtyard in front of a huge house. The house was built in a semi-circle shape so it curved around the courtyard. Its windows were a very distinctive circular shape. On the walls around the front door were coloured tiles in an equally distinctive fan shape.

Diarnlan had seen those shapes before. She'd seen them in a history book about Miavain before the fall. Miavish architects had used them for palaces, courthouses, and and other important buildings.

The memory of all the horrors she'd heard about the Bone-Worshippers rushed into her mind. She staggered away from the gate and collapsed behind one of the bushes. A horrible idea of what might lie before her filled her head -- being burnt at the stake as a witch, being locked away in one of the hellish places they called convents, being sacrificed to their gods, being raped by their priests. Horror followed after horror until she wanted to scream.

She shoved the branches behind her aside and clambered into the hollow under the bush. She had no idea how long she lay there, trying to come up with a plan to get home safely.

The first thing to do was try to contact her teacher. Telepathically Diarnlan reached out in search of Teivain-ríkhon-hrair -- or any other magician who might happen to overhear her and reply.

Hello? Hello! Can you hear me?

For several minutes all she heard was the telepathic equivalent of static from a malfunctioning radio. Her stomach tied itself into knots as she waited. At last, just as she was about to give up hope, she got a response. A very garbled one, but it was a response none the less. Best of all it was her teacher's voice. Diarnlan could have jumped for joy if not for her ankle and the branches crowding her on all sides.

...lo? Diarn... is ...at you?

Yes, she said. I can't hear you properly; can you hear me?

Another long silence. Then, slightly clearer than the last time, she heard, Your voice is very faint. Where are you?

In Miavain.

She got the distinct impression her teacher had just done a double-take. When she replied Teivain-ríkhon-hrair sounded half-way between alarmed and incredulous. Sorry, something's interfering with my telepathy. It sounded like you just said Miavain.

I did. It's a very long story, but I met a madman and he dragged me to Miavain. I don't know where I am in it. There's a house here but I don't want to go too close.

There was an even longer silence this time. I didn't catch all of that. What's this about a madman's house?

Diarnlan groaned silently. Never mind. I'll explain it when I get home. Can you sense where I am? How far away are you?

Can't tell. The wards are blocking me.

Wonderful. Just wonderful. Diarnlan buried her face in her hands and wondered who she'd offended to end up in this situation. All right. I'll try to find my way back on my own. I'll contact you again at-- She peered up at the sky through the branches. She couldn't see the sun, but the sky was bright enough for her to guess it was mid-afternoon at the latest. I'll contact you some time tomorrow.

All right. Teivain-ríkhon-hrair sounded so worried anyone would have thought Diarnlan was a defenceless child. In spite of everything else she had to face Diarnlan found the time to be offended by that. Be careful.

Diarnlan didn't bother to answer. She closed the telepathic channel and began to make plans. Her ankle was still sore. Now was as good a time as any to heal it.

Hiding under a bush was not the most comfortable place in the world. Nor was it particularly convenient for anything that required sitting up, like examining her ankle. Diarnlan got tangled up in the branches over her head, then bumped her elbow against the ones to her left, and finally managed to tear part of her trouser leg on a sharp twig to her right. Exasperated, she weighed up the pros and cons of leaving her hiding place for a few minutes. She hadn't heard or seen anyone approach. It should be safe enough as long as she didn't waste time.

She crawled out onto the grass and sat up. And promptly found herself unable to move at all. Her body froze as if she'd been turned to stone. Even amidst her immediate surge of panic Diarnlan recognised this.

It was a paralysing spell.

Someone moved behind her. She couldn't look round to see who they were. As it turned out she didn't need to, because they came to stand in front of her.

"Found you," the madman said with a far-too-wide smile. A smile that showed teeth far sharper than a human's should be.

Karandren had two advantages over Diarnlan. He wasn't panicking, and he knew where he was. He also knew where the nearest house was and who lived there. He watched Diarnlan just to make sure she was heading towards the house. Then he set off towards it too -- but he made sure he approached it from the back.

The last time he'd been here it had been early morning. (His memories of the first lifetime were faint and unclear, so he hadn't a clue what time he'd arrived then.) No one had been around to see him. And it had been on a different day. He didn't know how many people might be around now. But he knew that if there was no one in the kitchen he could get in the servants' entrance and sneak around the house unseen. He could kill the priest and everyone there. Then he could leave the front door open wide, practically inviting Diarnlan in. She might be suspicious, but eventually she'd come in and he could capture her.

As for what happened next, he had no idea. He hadn't thought that far ahead. Some day soon he'd conquer Miavain. That was his main goal. Diarnlan's presence was a coincidence he hadn't planned for. He hadn't a clue what to do about it, but the thought of continuing to annoy her into insanity was a highly entertaining one. Far too entertaining to let this chance slip through his fingers.

He made his way to the servants' entrance. As he drew nearer he heard the unmistakeable sounds of pots and pans rattling. Beneath that noise was the faint hum of conversation. He stopped. Obviously the kitchen was occupied. If he had his sword he could have killed them all. Unfortunately and for reasons unknown his sword hadn't come back with him in this lifetime. He briefly got distracted by wondering why that was. Only when someone opened the kitchen door did he realise the stupidity of standing around outside an enemy's house. He dived behind the nearest statue and began making a new plan.

Who said he had to wait until he killed the house's inhabitants to find Diarnlan? By that time she might have wandered off somewhere else and he'd have to waste time searching for her. Besides, she'd be much more wary of him if she was there to see him kill them all.

Karandren doubled back and made his way around the outside wall. Soon he reached the main gates. He looked around for any sign of Diarnlan. When he didn't see anything he cast a spell to check if someone had been here recently. It showed him a set of footsteps leading up to the gate, then turning and heading over to one of the nearby bushes. Karandren followed them. They led to a small hollow under the bush. He couldn't see clearly past the branches, but he caught a glimpse of grey and white in the hollow.

No one would stay in such an uncomfortable place for long. He waited just out of sight until Diarnlan emerged from her hiding place. Then he cast a paralysing spell.

Now to deal with that pesky priest. It was roughly the time for Miavish people to have their evening meal. This was as good a time as any to barge in and kill them all.

When he told her his plans Diarnlan stared at him as if he'd announced his intention to move to the moon. She made an angry, garbled noise through gritted teeth. Unfortunately for her she couldn't open her mouth to speak properly because of the spell. And Karandren did not intend to waste time removing the spell just to hear anything she had to say.

He cast another spell to unfreeze her legs so she could walk, and another to make her follow him. All this magic use began to make him feel slightly light-headed. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and forced that feeling down. He couldn't afford to show any weakness now. Diarnlan would exploit it as soon as she got free.

"Come along," he said brightly.

He got up and marched towards the main gate. Diarnlan followed unwillingly. He paused just outside it, turned abruptly, and pulled Diarnlan's sword out of its sheath. She gave him the most deadly glare she could manage when her face was mostly frozen.

"Don't look at me like that. I need a weapon. I'm not going to kill you." As he turned back to the gate he added, "Probably."

He got the distinct impression Diarnlan was trying to kill him with her glare.

The priest had no guards. He didn't let any of his servants carry weapons. He had no reason for either; the common people lived in such terror of the Bone-Worshippers' clergy that they would never dare attack him. And like all tyrants he deeply distrusted the idea of allowing his subjects the means to defend themselves. There was too high a chance they might some day decide to use their weapons against him. Karandren was all too familiar with this sort of person. He'd met them again and again during his last stay in Miavain.

Karandren marched up to the front door as if he owned the place. Well, he was going to own it in a few minutes anyway; why should he sneak around like an intruder? Diarnlan trailed reluctantly after him. He still felt her scowl, a prickling sensation between his shoulder-blades as if she was trying to burn a hole right through him. She hadn't been able to remove the spell yet. Give her enough time and she'd probably manage it at the most inconvenient moment for him.

He stopped with his hand on the door-knob. He wasn't enough of a fool to think no one would try to fight back. The priest had at least twenty servants. If all of them attacked at once not even a sword would be of much use against them.

I need to magically freeze them, he thought.

But could he cast more paralysing spells while still keeping the one on Diarnlan? Especially when she was trying to break free? No, he couldn't risk it. Karandren pulled the door open and swept into the entrance hall. Diarnlan followed, looking like she'd much rather jump into shark-infested waters than put up with this for a minute longer.

He looked around for a convenient place to lock her up for a few minutes. His gaze fell on the small closet full of raincoats. That would do. It didn't have a lock, but... He took stock of the furniture nearby. That heavy marble statue would keep the door closed if he propped it against it.

Karandren opened the door and waved for Diarnlan to go in. She did so very reluctantly.

"Don't worry, you won't be in there long," he said cheerfully. The look she gave him said plainly what she thought of this.

He closed the door behind her and -- with a little help from his magic -- shoved the statue in front of it. As soon as it was secure he removed the paralysing spell. He promptly got treated to a lesson in how many ways there were to inventively insult someone's ancestry, sexual preferences, and ultimate destination. He listened out of amused curiosity for a while before he realised someone else might overhear and come to investigate. Then he cast a muffling spell on the door. Diarnlan's swearing faded into a mere mumbling in the background.

Now to deal with that pesky priest.