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Geoffrey sidestepped with a mocking laugh, jumped away, and caught up a tree branch of his own. The boy was on him in a second, but Geoffrey met his blow with a block and a counter. The imposter just barely caught it with the tip of his staff and swung a murderous double-handed blow at Geoffrey.
It was a mistake, for it left his whole side unguarded. Geoffrey simply leaped back, let the stick whip past him, then leaped in again, snapping his staff out in a quick, hard blow.
It caught the imposter on the side of the head, sending him spi
Foreboding struck the young warrior. For all his belligerence, he himself had never killed, and had only once knocked someone out. Warily, he stepped around and knelt by his opponent's head, reaching down to touch the throat, alert for the boy to jump up and attack—but the imposter stayed still, eyes closed. Geoffrey felt the strong, steady beat of the boy's pulse through the artery, and sat back with a sigh of relief, which turned into a frown. Now what was he supposed to do?
"He hath fought the imposter, and knocked him senseless," Gregory reported. "He asks our aid."
"And certes, he shall have it," Magnus answered, "Sister, do thou, an it please thee, fly aloft o'er the forest, and spy out his place." He closed his eyes, concentrating on Geoffrey's thoughts.
"I have it." Cordelia had bees mind-listening, too. "'Tis a half-day's walk to the north, not far from the High Way. I shall see thee there anon." And with no more ado, she hopped on her broomstick and swooped up into the sky.
"I thank thee," Magnus called after her, then paused to frown a moment in concentration. Fess! There is a clearing toward the north, where these peasants did pass the night! Wilt thoufind it, an thou canst, and meet with us therein?
I shall, Magnus, the horse's thoughts answered. I have no doubt I will find it.
Magnus relaxed a little. The imposter might present him with a difficult decision, and he had a notion he was going to need all the advice he could get. He turned to Gregory. "Now, lad! Let the semblance of this clearing fill thy mind."
They both closed their eyes, letting themselves see through Geoffrey's eyes. A second later, thunder cracked around them; the clearing solidified, and was real.
"We are come," Magnus informed Geoffrey.
"And well come indeed," Geoffrey said heartily. "Now what shall we do with him?"
"Why, let Gregory lull him to deeper sleep, of course." Magnus knelt down by the unconscious imposter. Gregory followed suit, dropping into tailor's seat and closing his eyes. Magnus stared at the face, so completely like his brother's, and felt with his mind as the imposter's breathing deepened and slowed.
"He sleeps most soundly," Gregory said softly. "He will believe whatsoever thou sayest now, and answer whatsoever thou dost ask."
Magnus started to speak, but caught himself and looked up at a hissing of air, as Cordelia brought her broomstick in for a landing near them. "Well met, sister," he said softly. "Here's one for thy questioning."
Cordelia dropped down to kneel by the imposter, muttering, "Thou mightest do this thyself."
"Aye," Magnus admitted, "yet not so well as thee." It was only partly flattery.
Not that Cordelia was really about to object. Her face settled as she stared at the sleeping boy, her mind probing, asking, following question after question, drawing out seven years of information in a few minutes, at the speed of thought. Her brothers frowned down at the imposter, too, eavesdropping on his thoughts through Cordelia's mind.
They were so intent on the account of the boy*s life that they did not see the huge black horse step quietly into the clearing, and move up behind them.
Finally, Cordelia sat back with a sigh. "Thou hast heard. 'Tis indeed a woeful tale."
"Aye." Gregory's eyes were wide and tragic. "Poor lad, to have never known mother or father!"
"Slain by beastmen." Geoffrey regarded his rival with sympathy. "And himself only living by chance, hidden under the fold of a blanket."
Magnus shook his head, scowling. "How cold were they who raised him! How unfeeling!"
"Aye," Cordelia said softly, "yet he loved them, for they cared for his needs."
"Therefore he sought ever to please them," Gregory finished, "and still doth."
Geoffrey shook his head with finality. "There will be no shaking his loyalty to them. He will ever cleave to these enemies of our father's."
"Yet how horrible, to set surgeons to changing his face!" Cordelia protested. "And not once, but thrice!"
"Until he became the image of myself," Geoffrey said grimly, "and his own countenance was clean forgot."
"They have taken away his face," Magnus said softly, "and taken away his sense of self with it. Yet they ca
"I doubt not they would, an they could," Geoffrey said darkly.
"They have allowed him a name, at least," Gregory sighed.
"Bren." Geoffrey said the name slowly, feeling its texture on his tongue. "Odd, to know another name with my face."
Suddenly, Gregory leaned forward with tears in his eyes. "Let us wake him, and tell him how vile are they who reared him! Oh! Let us bid him come home to our mother and father, and grow up with ones who care for him!"
But Magnus stayed him with a hand on his chest, shaking his head with a very dark frown. "'Tis even as we've said—'twould avail us naught. He will never believe evil of his masters; he is loyal."
"Yet what should we do with him?" Geoffrey said softly.
They were all silent, none of them wishing to say it.
"Thou shouldst slay him." Puck was there suddenly, gazing somberly about at each one of them.
They stared at him in horror.
"It would be prudent," Fess admitted. "This child has been bred to mimic Geoffrey, and to oppose him. Further, he has been indoctrinated with beliefs which are the antithesis of your own. If he lives, he will one day be your enemy—and when he has grown, he may have acquired the skills and strategy to defeat you."
"'Tis even as he saith," Puck agreed. "'Twould be best war-lore to now slay him."
The children looked at one another in guilty foreboding. Even Geoffrey's face was haunted.
"Yet thou wilt not, and therefore I rejoice," the elf went on. "To slay a sleeping child would twist thy souls to a course that could only end in devotion to evil. Nay, thou wilt let him live, and I'm glad of it."
Fess nodded in approval. "I must agree. To slay him is the course of prudence—but to spare him is the course of wisdom."
"Yet what shall we do with him, then?" Cordelia whispered.
"Why, walk away, and leave him," the elf answered. "What else?"
They were all silent.
Then Magnus stood, slowly, and turned away.
After a minute, Gregory too stood up, murmuring, "Wake when thou canst no longer hear our footsteps," and turned to follow Magnus.
A moment later, Cordelia followed him.
Finally, Geoffrey rose, face thunderous, and went after them.
Puck heaved a sigh of relief and disappeared into the brush.
As they went out of the clearing, Geoffrey said darkly, "This is unwise, brother. An we let him live, we allow a viper to flourish."
"Yet he himself hath done no evil," Cordelia pleaded. "At the least, brother, let him grow up!"
"Aye," Magnus agreed. "That much is the right of every child."
"Well, I will be ruled by thee in this," Geoffrey grumbled. "Yet I prophesy, brother, that he will bring disaster upon our heads when we're grown!"
Magnus walked on for a few paces, not answering. Then he said, "What sayest thou to that, Gregory?"
"Geoffrey is right in this matter," Gregory answered. "We must begin to prepare ourselves for that battle."