Part 11 (1/2)

Without further encouragement, Korfius lifted the hatch and slid into the parlor. His footfalls echoed on the wooden stairs, growing gradually softer.Collins oriented as he watched the boy disappear. Clearly, the guards had looked for him and Korfius in the larder, and he had heard their voices as they descended the stairs. He tried to fathom why he had heard them there but not inside the cabin.

As if reading Collins' mind, Vernon explained. ”It's not normal to have hiding places, so sound travels oddly. You can hear and be heard by anyone on the parlor stairs but no other place as far as I know. If you have to hide again, though, I'd suggest you stay silent, just in case.”

Collins s.h.i.+vered at the thought of cramming himself into that tight, seemingly airless s.p.a.ce again.

Nevertheless, he found it preferable to hanging. ”You can count on it.”

”You'd never believe how many times those fools have searched the dresser, leaving me a mess of clothes to pick up.” Vernon gestured at the irregularly stained, off-center chest of drawers. Clearly handmade, it occupied most of the eastern wall. ”I stash all kinds of clothing in there; people give what they can. Those who can't give wash or patch. You find anything your size, feel free to change. Dirties'll get washed and go to someone else. Or you can get them back next time you drop in.”

”I do appreciate your help and your kindness.” Collins continued to study the dresser, seeking some indication of the secret area he knew took up most of the s.p.a.ce behind it. ”And I hope I don't offend you when I say that I hope I never have to receive it again.”

Vernon turned, brows raised and mouth crinkled with amus.e.m.e.nt. ”You're welcome. And, yes, I understand.”

Korfius' bare feet clomped up the stairs. He appeared through the opening hugging a variety of flasks and crockery. Straw-colored hair lay in snarled disarray. Streaks of dirt decorated otherwise cherubic cheeks, like war paint, the right still bearing a dab of honey. His gray robe had a tattered hem that dragged on the planking, and its V-neck, even laced, revealed most of his hairless chest. Awkwardly, he dropped his finds on the table. A covered mug rolled across the surface until Korfius caught it and righted it. ”I found lots of stuff, Your Majesty, though not what you're used to of course; but it will have to-”

”All right.” Vernon interrupted the boy's excited patter. ”Let's see what we have here.” He lifted and replaced lids, occasionally sniffing the contents. ”Black bread, honey, a.s.sorted insects, nut paste, roundfruit, roasted beetles, watered wine, mulled fruit juice.” He looked up. ”Any of that suit you, Your Majesty?”

A clumsy silence followed before Collins remembered they addressed him. ”Oh. Oh, yes. Honey bread. Maybe some of that nut paste. Fruit and fruit juice, please.”

Vernon started doling out the fare, placing each share directly on the table. ”No beetles, sire? They're the best thing I have, a real delicacy. The big kind with lots of substance and a gratifying crunch.”

Korfius peered eagerly into one of the crocks. ”Real good ones, Your Majesty. Look!”

”That's all right.” Collins did not care to see. ”I'm not much of a . . . um . . . bug-eater.” He took his seat at the table while Vernon plopped a golden, viscous fluid, spotted with bits of honeycomb onto a thick slice of dark bread and pushed 'it in front of his guest. The sweet odor of the honey sent a rumble through Collins' stomach. Instinctively, he thought back to his last satisfying meal and realized, with a guilty start, that it was when he had eaten the rabbit. Joetha. The queasy feeling settled back into his gut, though the bread continued to tempt him. Vernon slapped a handful of semisolid brownish glop interspersed with chunks onto the table beside the bread. Oil formed a ring around the edges. Though unappetizing looking, it smelled vaguely similar to peanut b.u.t.ter, which tweaked Collins' hunger again.

Two wrinkled b.a.l.l.s, stored fruit, rolled across the table toward him, followed by a mug of dull orangish-pink liquid, dense with pulp.

Korfius claimed the chair to Collins' right, clambering onto his knees. ”I've had some bread and honey, thank you. I'd just like some of those beetles and a bit of wine, please.”

Vernon slopped down a half-dozen insects the size of Collins' first thumb joint. Their black legs curled against their abdomens, and their wings s.h.i.+mmered a pearly aqua, burned to dull black in places. A dribble of saliva escaped Korfius' mouth, but he waited patiently for his host and his fellow guest.

Vernon served himself a bit of everything, then relaxed into his chair. Collins suddenly felt all eyes on him. Apparently, as the presumed royal, he was supposed to take the first bite. Needing cues as to how best to eat the other food, he went for the bread first, taking a healthy bite. It had the consistency of akitchen sponge, and a hint of mold marred the otherwise pleasant flavor. The honey tasted as fresh and sweet as any he had ever had, though he would have preferred to have strained out all of the comb.

The others started eating, too, Korfius with doglike gusto. ”So,” the boy said around a mouthful of beetle. ”How did I wind up here?” He swallowed. ”And when can I go home?”

Vernon's gaze flicked to Collins, and he chewed vigorously.

Collins finished the bite of bread, then set the rest down. He cleared his throat. ”Well. . .”If they waited until Korfius became a dog again before releasing him, they probably had half a day before he could report back to the guards. Unless, as a dog, he can communicate fully with the other dogs. His ignorance foiled him, yet he could not leave Vernon to handle a problem that he had created. He already depended too much on his companions' charity. ”It's difficult. I'm on a top secret royal mission, and I don't know if I can trust you.”

”Top secret?” Korfius repeated, features screwed into a knot as he crunched another beetle.

Obviously, the term meant little to him, and the translation stone did not leave room for quibbling. Likely, it had portrayed the words ”top” and ”secret” rather than the compound concept. ”Of course you can trust me. Why wouldn't you trust me?”

To emphasize the gravity, Collins thrust all his food aside. ”When you're on a mission this secret, you can't trust anyone.”

Korfius swallowed, his own food forgotten for the moment, too. ”Not anyone?”

”Not. . . anyone.”

”Why?”

”Because,” Collins leaned toward the boy. ”It's so important and so very very secret. If the wrong person found out, if someone told them, thinking he could trust them, or if they merely overheard it, it could destroy the mission.”

Korfius swallowed again, harder. ”What is the mission?”

”If I told you, I'd have to kill you.”

Korfius' features opened, and his jaw fell. Even Vernon turned his head to give Collins a warning stare.

Collins dropped his voice to an urgent whisper. ”It's that secret. And that vital.”

When the two continued to gape, Collins continued, ”The lives of thousands rest in my hands. I can't betray that sacred and dire trust. And I can't let anyone else do it either.” He lowered his own gaze to his hands. ”I've already said as much as I dare about it.”

Korfius bobbed his head, clenching his hands on the edge of the table, knuckles bloodless. ”Before I switched, before the hunt. The guards in human form said . . . they said . . .” He looked at Vernon, who waved encouragingly. ”A man with your description ate someone.”

Collins' thoughts raced. He knew Korfius must have switched to dog form shortly before Collins captured him and that he would understand little of the subsequent details. He should have figured the boy might have known the intention of the hunt. The guards had caught Collins in the process of committing the crime; he could hardly deny it. That would put his credibility, already thin, in hopeless jeopardy.

”Did you . . . did you ...” Korfius clamped his attention on Collins. ”. .. kill... and eat... that rabbit?”

Collins calmly ladled nut paste into his mouth, stalling. He chewed, maintaining the air of casual innocence, swallowed, took a sip of fruit juice to clear his mouth, then spoke in the most matter-of-fact tone he could muster. ”Had to.”

Korfius blinked.

”She threatened to tell others about me, about the mission. I hate killing more than anything in the world. But ...” Collins gave Korfius a look of dangerous sincerity. ”In the wrong hands, that information would doom the mission. One life seemed a small price to pay to save thousands.”

”I-I,” Korfius stammered, voice dropping to a whisper. ”I wouldn't tell anyone.”

Collins hissed back, ”I'm counting on that.”

As if he'd suddenly discovered his food, Korfius went back to stuffing beetles into his mouth.

Collins glanced over to Vernon's half-grin.”Who can't know?” Korfius said between crunches. ”Whose hands are the wrong hands?”

”No one must know. Where I am, who I'm with, what I'm doing.” Collins added conspiratorially, ”You're the only one besides my friends who even knows I'm royal.”

Vernon wiped his mouth with an edge of his tunic. ”Korfius, here's what I suggest you tell the other guards and your parents.”

Korfius sat up, attentive.

”You fell or got hit or something. You're not sure, but it made you sleep for many hours. When you woke up, you wandered around confused for a long time. Finally, I found you. Fed you. Took you home.

Got it?”

Korfius' mouth pinched. ”But that would be a lie.”

”Yes,” Vernon said simply.

Believing the boy needed more, Collins added, ”A necessary lie. One that will help save the lives of thousands. Do you understand?”

”Sort of,” Korfius replied, swallowing a mouthful. ”Not really. Not the details.”