'Well' said the Duke, 'I have actually just come from home. I am travelling toward the capital to visit my son. I will be returning in a month or so. Since the count has offered to put you up, stay here for the month. I will call on my return journey.'

'That would be perfect,' exclaimed the Count. 'You will stay here. I will keep you well.'

'My, I don't know what to say!' Dana said. 'I should really be unsure what I do with myself if I stayed!'

'Ah, my dear,' the count replied faster than lightening. 'You need not worry of that. We will go hunting, fishing, riding. The month will go by so quickly you will not have time to do everything. I guarantee you will not be ready to leave when His Grace returns.'

'Ah...', started His Grace, suddenly realising he had been pulled out of the equation.

Dana interrupted him, 'Actually, I should really be heading for the capital. I need to watch our for my son. He should really return to his own people, so he can hope to get married and raise children of his own.'

The Duke recomposed himself and said, 'My dear, I would be delighted to accompany you to the capital. As I said, I was heading there myself. I did not think that you might wish to travel there. It is a long and dangerous journey.'

The count was not so easily dissuaded, 'It is a very long and dangerous journey. I was in the capital not long ago myself. There are no dwarves there. I think your son here is the only one in the entire kingdom. Any information that can be found, His Grace can find and bring back to you.'

Dana nodded her head. 'Would you?' she asked the Duke.

He seemed a little abashed. 'Most certainly. I will do all I can for you and your son,' he said.

Just then, a servant came into the hall. 'M'lord! A crowd has gathered outside the walls,' he announced. 'They are demanding the dwarf and the woman calling herself his mother. They claim he attacked a group of children.'

Dana turned red. Marchan looked down at his long since emptied trencher. The serving girl, who had fetched him, gasped. The Duke and the Count both stood.

'Is this true?' asked the Count.

'I did not attack them. I was defending my mother's honour,' Marchan spoke is a small voice.

The Count seemed at a loss for the first time. 'How large is the crowd?' he demanded.

'Two hundred. They are armed with pitchforks and machetes.

The Count started counting on his fingers, 'I have 20 men with me. Most are at the various forts, protecting these people! Twenty mounted against 200 peasants. Five would likely fall, but we should be able to scatter them, but at the same time, there's nothing to stop a handful from scaling the walls and taking them any which way.'

'Oh do not hurt them on our account,' said Dana.

The Duke smiled and nodded. He turned to his footman, standing behind him, 'Tell the them to prepare the carriage and be ready to give the horses their heads.'

'What do you plan?' asked the count.

'Leaving and these two are coming with me. The peasants won't have any choice but to leave you alone when they're gone.'

'How do you plan to get out? They're right up to the gates, blocking the bridge.'

'That's where a little bit of help from the Roubbes comes in,' said the Duke.

'The Roubbes? You are of royal blood?' The count's face whitened slightly as he spoke.

'I am. My great grandfather was even declared king for a short time before Queen Bedua, mother of King Claivon, ascended the throne.'

Marchan looked up. He had heard never heard of the Roubbes before. The confusion on his face was apparent.

The Duke noticed his confusion, 'The Roubbes are great and powerful beings, They control the weather and watch over the inhabitants of the land from their palace in the sky. They are also beholden to my family. Some claim it was with their help that my ancestor King George ascended to the throne at the beginning of the world. I am convinced it was with their help that all of his descendents have such long lives, although none so long as our King Claivon may he continue to reign.'

'But what will they do for you?' asked the Count. 'I had heard they disliked involving themselves too much in the affairs of men, even royalty.'

'Bring me The Amulet,' the Duke said to his footman as he stepped out to order the carriage ready. He turned to the Count, 'Have you a tall tower that is not currently being used? I need to commune with the Roubbes.'

'Ah, right this way,' the Count said. He led the Duke out of the dining hall and down a passageway. Marchan followed for a bit then stopped. He heard the footman returning behind him. He ran back and called to him.

'This way,' he said. 'Your master is heading for one of the towers.'

The footman turned and followed Marchan they ran as quickly as Marchan could to catch up to the Duke and the Count. When they reached them, the two were opening a door that creaked and groaned its protest of it disuse. The four of them looked inside.

'As I said,' the Count was saying, 'We haven't used this stair for a generation or so. It leads up to a tower in the center of the castle. My father used to say it was used by a magus to view the stars. Many of my people won't even walk down this corridor any more. You should be fairly far from anyone here.'

'This will do nicely. You're not going to tell me that this tower is haunted are you?'

'I will say no such thing, though my people would probably tell you a different story. I will remain here to be sure no one follows you.'

'Thank you. I shan't be long,' said the Duke as he started up the stair beyond the door.

Marchan and the footman returned to the carraige. The stable hands were harnessing the horses and checking the wheels. Marchan turned back inside and found the young maid waiting for him just inside the door.

'Are you leaving so soon?' she asked.

'It would be best if I were not here so that those peasants outside will not bother you,' he said.

She looked sad, then leaned forward and kissed his cheek. Then she blushed and quickly left the room. Marchan stood a moment reflecting on why she might have done that, then went in search of his mother.

She was still in the dining hall, talking to an elderly woman. When she saw Marchan enter she stood, 'Are they ready, My Son?'

'Almost, Mother,' he said. 'The Duke has ascended a tower to commune with the Roubbes and the horses are harnessed.'

'Then we must be going,' his mother answered. She turned back to the woman. 'It was so nice to have met you. I truly have missed the court life. I promise I'll come back to see you.'

'Oh, you don't have to promise me anything,' said the old woman her voice quite frail. 'I have lived a good long life and don't really expect to last this next winter. I don't promise you that I'll still be here when you return, so you shouldn't promise that you'll see me. If you come back before I pass on to the next life, then you will. Don't make any promises.'

'Very well then,' Dana said. 'I'm sorry not to have had a longer time to make your acquaintance. Thank the Count for his generous hospitality, his offer to let us stay, and our regrets that we were unable to accept it. I look forward to returning one day.'

'Good-bye, dear,' said the woman turning to her knitting.

Dana and Marchan returned to the yard to find the carriage completely ready. The Duke appeared from another door with the Count.

'I'm counting on you,' the Duke was saying. 'Make sure that your men follow those direction precisely.'

'They most certainly will. Anyone who does not will get a feel for my whip,' the Count said.

'Everyone ready?' the Duke asked as he came up to the carriage.

'Yes m'lord!' said the footman and the coachman.

'Up we go then,' the Duke said to Dana and Marchan. The footman cupped his hands low to give Marchan a foothold and helped him into the carriage. Then after holding the door as the Duke handed Dana inside, helped his master inside. The coachman was already climbing into his seat and the footman joined him.

'Normally, my footman would ride behind as he did last night,' the Duke said to Dana and Marchan, 'but because we are going to be riding hard, I want him where he cannot fall off.'

'I am sorry to put you through all this,' said Dana.

'Oh pshaw,' said the Duke. 'Always willing to help a Lady in distress. Now we'll have to convince the mob that you are leaving so please both of you stand by the doors and wave to them like they are you adoring subjects.'

Marchan felt very strange but did as he was told. The coachman started the carriage and the gates opened as they reached them. Marchan heard the Count calling from atop the walls, 'The Dwarf and his mother are coming out now! Stand back!'

The gates flew by as the carriage rolled quickly down upon the mob crowding on the road. Marchan started to wave at the mob as he could see them. Suddenly the road started to fall away, the carriage and horses riding an invisible road over the crowd. Marchan was as suprised as the crowd. The horses were still running hard and it sounded like they were on the stone roadway, but their was nothing to be seen beneath their hooves. The wheels continued to creak and roll as the carriage arced over the crowd and came back down not far past them. Marchan heard men in the crowd yell and women scream, but he could no longer see them. They were soon so far behind that even their sounds died out. The horses hoofbeats never changed and the carriage rolled into the morning faster than anything that Marchan had seen before.