The Still by David Feintuch Page A

away with it, as far as my uncle was concerned, but had I squandered the Still by prevarication? I closed my eyes, laid my palms flat against my stomach, pretending my body was the stillsilver of the Still. How would it respond, when came the time?
    If Elryc was in the stable, had I lied? What if he was with Garmond, on some boyish prank? Had I told True, in that case? On the other hand, was Elryc so stupid, as to risk all for a lark? If he were caught and forced to tell how he’d been hidden, I was undone.
    Elryc’s danger, the problems of my coronation, could wait until morning. I thought briefly of Mother, wished I’d listened more closely to her warnings, and fell into sleep.
    In the middle of the black night there came a hammering and caterwauling at my door such as I’d never heard. “Open, in the name of the Duke! At once, Rodrigo!”
    Trembling, I leaped out of bed, dashed to the window. Below, the courtyard flickered with soldiers bearing torches.
    “Open, or we’ll break in the door!”
    I scrambled into my breeches, snatched up my dagger, wishing Mother had let me store my sword in my room, instead of at the fencing master’s.
    “Now!” A terrific thud at the door.
    I glanced under the bed, thought of hiding, realized it would not do. I unbarred, braced myself for attack.
    Soldiers swept me aside. “Search the trunks! Pull off the mattress, look under.”
    I gaped.
    “Behind the curtains!”
    “This is my personal chamber! By what right—”
    “By order of the regent.” Stire, the Duke’s baron. “Where’s Elryc?”
    “At Council, you told me he’d be sent to Verein with Pytor.”
    “You know well he’s not—Do you have him?”
    With dismay, I watched clothes, knickknacks and playthings strewn about. “How dare you! I’m Prince of Caledon!”
    His face grew red. “Where in the demons’ lake is he?”
    “I don’t know!”
    We glared at each other, until he turned to a guard. “Any sign?”
    “No, my lord.”
    “He’s sure to be somewhere in the castle. Help them search the servants’ quarters.”
    “What about this mess?” My voice was too high-pitched.
    I jumped, as he spat at my bare feet. “Why, clean it up, youngsire.” A slam, and they were gone.
    To my utter disgust, I sat amid the chaos of my belongings and sobbed. My rage finally spent, I threw water on my face, paced until just before dawn, when at last I was calm enough to rest.
    The noise of the household woke me in early morn. Thoroughly short of sleep, I picked my way across the mess on the floor. My mood wasn’t improved when I slopped water from the washbasin onto my bare toes.
    Last night, while the furious wind of soldiers had torn through my chamber, I’d thought with some worry of Hester. Certainly they’d search the nursery, and her temper might well provoke the Duke’s men to violence.
    Now, yawning over the breakfast table, I realized that though I’d pounded up and down the steps to the third floor of the castle while searching for Pytor night before last, I’d never gone back to tell Hester where I’d hidden Elryc. After a quick breakfast, I looked into the stables, found Genard, who’d made no secret that he’d recognized my brother. Now, when I threatened him anew, he shrugged. “Elryc—Rendall says you’re not like that, m’lord.”
    “Who have you told?”
    The boy’s eyes had shifted. “No one, m’lord—don’t make that sign at me!” Quickly he threw up the hex of protection. “Master Griswold, was all. None else!”
    “Griswold? Lord of Nature!” I rushed past the stalls, through the hayloft into the tack room, and found him there, knotting a harness.
    “Ah, Prince Rodrigo.”
    I slipped shut the door, as if a waist-high barrier would muffle our words. “You—Genard said he told—I mean, the new stableboy ...”
    “The new lad hasn’t worked out badly.” Griswold’s tone was placid. “Though he’s been rather hungry. Doesn’t Llewelyn feed his help?”
    I whispered,