"Where are you going? Who's this?"
It was a guard, Maggie saw, peering from underher hair. A real medieval guard, with, of all things,a lance. There was another one in the opposite cor ridor just like him. She was fascinated in the middle of her terror.
But Chamber-pot Emptier of the not-so-quickwits reacted beautifully. She took time to curtsey, then she said slowly and stolidly, "It's Folder fromthe laundry, sir. Laundress sent her with the sheetsand I was told she could help me. There's morework because of the guests, you know."
"It's Chamber Maid's work to spread sheets," theguard said irritably.
Chamber-pot Emptier curtsied again and said just as slowly, "Yes, sir, but there's more work because of the guests, you see-"
"Fine, fine," the guard broke in impatiently. "Whydon't you go and do it, instead of talking about it?"He seemed to think that was funny, and he turned and elbowed the other guard in the ribs.
Chamber-pot Emptier curtseyed a third time and walked on, not hurrying. Maggie tried to copy the curtsey, with her face buried in the sheets.
There was another endless corridor, then a doorway, and then Emptier said, "We're here. Andthere's nobody.around."
Maggie lifted her face from the sheets. "You're absolutely wonderful, you know that? You deservean Academy Award."
"A what?"
"Never mind. But you were great."
"I only told the truth," the girl said placidly, butthere was a smile lurking in the depths of her gentle cowlike eyes. "There is more work when guestscome. We never had them before three years ago."
Maggie nodded. "I know. Look, I guess you'd better go now. And um-Emptier?" She couldn't bring herself to say the entire name. "I really hope you don't get in trouble because of this."
Chamber-pot Emptier nodded back, then went toreach under the bed and retrieve a ceramic container. She walked out again holding it carefully.
Maggie looked around the room, which was verybig and very bare. It was somewhat better lit thanthe corridors, having several bowl-shaped oil lampson stands. The bed was the only real piece of furniture in it. It was huge, with a heavy wooden frameand carved bedposts. Piled on top of it were quiltsand what looked like fur coverlets, and hanging allaround it were linen curtains.
I'm probably supposed to take all that stuff off and put the clean sheets on, Maggie thought. Shedidn't.
The rest of the furniture seemed to be largechests made of exotic-looking wood, and a fewbenches and stools. Nothing that offered a hidingplace. But on one side there was a curtaineddoorway.
Maggie went through it and found a small anteroom-the wardrobe Jeanne had mentioned. It wasmuch bigger than she'd expected, and seemed tobe more of a storeroom than a closet.
Okay. So I'll just sit down.
There were two stools beside a figure thatvaguely resembled a dressmaker's dummy. Maggie dropped her sheets on a chest and pulled one ofthe stools close to the doorway. Through the spacebetween the linen curtains she could see almost theentire bedchamber.
Perfect, she thought. All I have to do is wait untilhe comes in alone. And then She stiffened. She could hear voices from somewhere beyond the vast bedroom. No, she couldhear a voice, a musical girlish voice.
Oh, please, she thought. Not her.Don't let him come in with her. I'll have to jump out and hit herwith something; I won't be able to stop myself... .
But when two figures came in the room, she hadno desire to jump out.
It was Sylvia, all right, but she wasn't with Delos.She was with Hunter Redfern.
Maggie felt ice down her spine. Now, what werethese two doing in Delos's bedroom? Whatever itwas, if they caught her, she was dead meat. Sheheld herself absolutely still, but she couldn't tear herself away from the curtain.
"He's out riding, and he won't be back for another half hour," Sylvia was saying. She was wearing a dark holly-green gown and carrying a basket."And I've sent all the servants away."
"Even so," Hunter Redfern said. He gently movedthe heavy wooden door until it was almost shut.Not all the way, but enough to screen the bedchamber from anyone outside.
"You really think he's spying on our rooms?" Sylvia turned in a swirl of skirts to look at the tallman.
"He's brightmuch smarter than you give himcredit for. And these old castles have spy-holes and listening tubes built in; I remember. It's a stupidprince who doesn't make use of them."
He remembers, Maggie thought, for a moment too full of wonder to be scared. He remembers thedays when castles were built, he means. He's reallybeen alive that long.
She studied the handsome face under the bloodred hair, the aristocratic cheekbones, the mobile mouth-and the quick flashing eyes. This was thesort of man who could fascinate people, she decided. Like Delos, there was a sort of leashed tension about him, a reserve of power and intelligence that made an ordinary person feel awed. He was a leader, a commander.
And a hunter, Maggie thought. All these peopleare hunters, but he's the Hunter, the epitome ofwhat they are. His name says it all.
But Sylvia was talking again. "What is it that he'snot supposed to know?"
"I've had a message from Outside. Don't ask how,I have my ways."
"You have your little bats," Sylvia said demurely."I've seen them."
There was a pause, then Hunter said, "You'd better watch yourself, girl. That mouth's going to getyou in trouble."
Sylvia had her face turned away from him, butMaggie saw her swallow. "I'm sorry. I didn't knowit was a secret. But what's happened?"
"The biggest news in your short life." Hunter Redfern laughed once and added with apparentgood humor restored, "And maybe in mine. Thewitches have seceded from the Night World."