The Spine of the World - By R. A. Salvatore Page 0,132

two riders plodded along, taking care to stay on the trail. They made good time, despite the foul weather, with Wulfgar driving them hard. Soon they came to a region of scattered farmhouses and stone cottages. Now the storm proved to be their ally, for few curious faces showed in the heavily curtained windows, and through the snow, wrapped in thick skins, the pair were hardly recognizable.

Soon after, Wulfgar waited in a sheltered overhang along the foothills, while Morik, Lord Brandeburg of Waterdeep, rode down into the village. The day turned late, the storm continued, but Morik didn't return. Wulfgar left his shelter to move to a vantage point that would afford him a view of Castle Auck. He wondered if Morik had been discovered. If so, should he rush down to find some way to aid his friend?

Wulfgar gave a chuckle. It was more likely that Morik had stayed on at the castle for a fine meal and was warming himself before the hearth at that very moment. The barbarian retreated again to his shelter to brush down his horse, telling himself to be patient.

Finally Morik did return, wearing a grim expression indeed. "I was not met with friendly hugs," he explained.

"Your disguise did not hold?"

"It's not that," said the rogue. "They thought me Lord Brandeburg, but just as I feared they considered it a bit odd that I disappeared at the same time you did."

Wulfgar nodded. They had discussed that very possibility. "Why did they let you leave if they were suspicious?"

"I convinced them it was but a coincidence," he reported, "else why would I return to Auckney? Of course, I had to share a large meal to persuade them."

"Of course," Wulfgar agreed archly, his tone dry. "What of Lady Meralda and her child? Did you see her?" the barbarian prompted.

Morik pulled the saddle from his horse and began brushing his own beast down, as if preparing again for the road. "It is time for us to be gone," he replied flatly. "Far from here."

"What news?" Wulfgar pressed, now truly concerned.

"We have no allies here, and no acquaintances even, in any mood to entertain visitors," Morik replied. "Better for all that Wulfgar, Morik, and Lord Brandeburg, put this wretched little pretend fiefdom far behind their horses' tails."

Wulfgar leaned over and grabbed the rogue's shoulder, roughly turning him from his work on the horse. "The Lady Meralda?" he demanded.

"She birthed a child late last night," Morik admitted reluctantly. Wulfgar's eyes grew wide with trepidation. "Both survived," Morik quickly added, "for now." Pulling away, the rogue went back to his work with renewed vigor.

Feeling Wulfgar's eyes on him expectantly, Morik sighed and turned back. "Look, she told them that you had ravished her," he reminded his friend. "It seems likely that she was covering an affair," Morik reasoned. "She lied, condemning you, to hide her own betrayal of the young lord." Again, the knowing nod, for this was no news to Wulfgar.

Morik looked at him hard, surprised that he was not shaken somewhat by the blunt expression of all that had occurred, surprised that he was showing no anger at all despite the fact that, because of the woman, he had been beaten and nearly brutally executed.

"Well, now there is doubt concerning the heritage of the child," Morik explained. "The birth was too soon, considering our encounter with the girl on the road, and there are those within the village and castle who do not believe her tale."

Wulfgar gave a profound sigh. "I suspected as much would happen."

"I heard some talk of a young man who fell to his death on the day of the wedding between Lord Feringal and Meralda, a man who died crying out for her."

"Lord Feringal believes he's the one who cuckolded him?" Wulfgar asked.

"Not specifically," Morik replied. "Since the child was surely conceived before the wedding-even if it had been your child, that would have been so-but he knows, of course, that his wife once lay with another, and now he may be thinking that it was of her own volition and not something forced upon her on a wild road."

"A ravished woman is without blame," Wulfgar put in, for it all made sense.

"While a cheating woman. . . ." Morik added ominously.

Wulfgar gave another sigh and walked out of the shelter, staring again at the castle. "What will happen to her?" he called back to Morik.

"The marriage will be declared invalid, surely," Morik answered, having lived in human cities long enough to understand such