Jordan recognized his nemesis’ voice, and he began to climb faster. As
soon
as he was close enough to jump without breaking every bone in his body,
he
let go and let himself fall, rolling as he landed so that he was
quickly on
his feet again. Running, he wished he at least had his black cloak,
which
was not only warm but could be discarded somewhere. He’d have to change
his
clothes as soon as he had a chance, but until then he’d have to make
sure
that he stayed far away from anyone who might have been at the Palace
tonight.
Eventually, he was off the Palace grounds and there was Simon, waiting
in
the carriage by the low stone wall. “Good man,” Jordan muttered under
his
breath, and made one last dash that just barely carried him the rest of
the
way.
“What happened to you?” Simon asked, alarmed.
“No time. Go now. Hurry!” As the carriage began to move, Jordan
collapsed
onto one of the seats and tried to catch his breath. Simon wisely
didn’t ask
him anything more, but instead waited for his friend to begin to speak.
“The
letter was delivered safely,” Jordan began, and recounted all of the events
of
that night.
When he’d finished his narrative, Simon turned to him and asked, “So
who is
this M? Do you think it stands for mage? And was he really trying to
help,
or was it a trap and you were just lucky?”
“Well for starters, I’m always lucky. But no, I don’t think it was a
trap.
And there’s something about all of this that bothers me.” By now, he’d
changed into a warm black shirt and some thick woolen pants. As he
pulled on
one fur-lined boot and began to lace it, he commented, “I remember now
who
she was. It was Lady Morgaine who gave me the note.”
Simon whistled. “Morgaine begins with M. But how could she know...”
“I don’t know. But it’s the only thing that works. Besides, I keep
feeling
like there’s something more to her than meets the eye.” Jordan yanked
on the
second boot to get his foot all of the way in, and then changed the
subject.
“Right now, I need to get out of here, and you need to lay low for a
while.
I’m hoping that by the time I come back, things will have settled down,
but
meanwhile it stands to reason that if I’m in danger when I’m here, then
you
will be too.”
“Don’t get caught, you mean?” Simon asked, grinning.
“Exactly,” Jordan replied darkly.
Morgaine sat up in her room that night, thinking about everything that
had
happened at the ball. Jordan was safe for the time being; that much she
knew. It seemed that no one had gotten a close look at the escaping
man’s
face, and Ormand would doubtless try to avoid the King’s attention for
a
while. As it was, the King had been greatly interested in hearing just
why
Ormand was so determined to capture a man who (aside from acting quite
suspiciously) had not necessarily done anything wrong.
One other thing caused her to smile; as she was leaving, she noticed
an
envelope in the King’s hand, and, in one of her bursts of cognizance,
she
knew that the note inside it was signed, “The Prophet.”
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