Part 19 (1/2)

”And brain as well, I'd wager.” Obscured by the branches, she must have been considering the situation a moment, for there was blessed silence. Finally she commanded, ”Throw your blade up here. I'll do it myself.”

”As you wish.” I wasn't thrilled about the notion of hurling my sword into the shadows of the foliage. Since I wasn't able to see exactly where she was, there was a possibility that the sword might impale her on its upward flight. A pleasant thought but, as noted, counterproductive. So I removed the sword and scabbard, braced myself, and then hurled the sheathed weapon upward. It vanished into the branches and then there was silence. ”Have you got it?” I called.

”Yes. Hold on.” For a moment more there was no sound, and then I heard the noise of hacking and slas.h.i.+ng. She was whacking away quite handily. Bits of leaves and branch spiraled down. I stood there, leaning on my staff, waiting for some indication that she was close to finished.

I got a far more profound indication than I could possibly have hoped, for suddenly there was a quick rustling of the leaves and then the blade plummeted from overhead, straight toward my upraised face. I threw myself out of the way, just barely avoiding it, and it thudded point down right where I'd been standing. The scabbard flopped to the ground a moment later. I lay there, gaping at the still quivering blade, and then saw the princess-looking rather tattered but otherwise undamaged-easing herself down the tree trunk. I called up with unfettered annoyance, ”You might have warned me!”

”Oh. Look out,” she said, and continued her descent.

”That was amazingly stupid, Highness.” I picked myself up, dusted myself off, and yanked the sword from the ground. ”It may not have come to your attention, but you have a much better shot at getting through this in one piece with me at your side.”

”Indeed?” She dropped the rest of the way to the ground, landing in a crouch. ”At my side, until such time that you see fit to abandon me yet again.”

”I told you. I was-”

”-going to get a phoenix to save us.” She shook her head and dislodged the leaves from her cloak. ”Squire, you are either extremely duplicitous, or extremely lucky, or a combination of both. I haven't quite decided.” Then she took a moment to look around, to examine her surroundings in a rather imperious manner. I felt a chill in the air and wasn't sure whether it was because the woods seemed oppressive or the temperature was dropping. Evening was drawing closer, however, and I did not like the fact that we had no shelter.

”We need to find somewhere to take cover,” I said. ”I don't want us out and exposed this way.”

She seemed about to say something in reb.u.t.tal, but I think she realized that in doing so, it would only be a knee-jerk reaction. Disagreeing with me on principle, which was a foolish notion and a waste of time. So she said nothing, which was a refres.h.i.+ng change of pace.

I looked around and perceived that, in one direction, the terrain seemed to be turning a bit more rocky. Without explaining why (and, at that point, not really caring if she followed or not), I sheathed my sword and started off. I didn't have to look over my shoulder to see if she was behind me; I could hear her boots sc.r.a.ping on the rocky ground. Despite my lameness of leg, I was making reasonably good time; fear of being stuck out in the woods with no shelter and at the mercy of whatever happened by was always a good motivator. She did not, however, huff or puff or ask me to slow down to accommodate her, which either said a great deal for her ability to keep up or not much in terms of my ability to set a rapid pace.

As I hoped, the ground had a rocky cast to it because it was serving to lead us to a small series of caves. I looked for something reasonably small and insinuated myself within, then looked up at her expectantly.

”Why don't we find something bigger?” she demanded. She was regarding me with tremendous suspicion. ”Are you trying to put us at close quarters on purpose?”

”Not especially,” I replied. ”If you climb in here or don't, it makes no never mind to me. But I was endeavoring to avoid anything substantially larger so that we don't find ourselves sharing facilities with a bear or similar beast that might take issue with unwanted guests.”

She seemed to want to toss off a smart remark, but then she closed her mouth and nodded. The fact that she was willing to accept something I said at simple face value gave me some measure of hope, as meager as that hope might be. Without another word she slid into the cave beside me, drawing her tattered cloak tighter around her as if it could serve as a s.h.i.+eld. ”Shouldn't we make a fire or something?” she said, and then added with a touch of her customary derision, ”Or don't you know how to?”

”I may not be on par with you when it comes to crafting infernos, Highness,” I said pointedly, ”but I have enough woodcraft to begin a blaze. However, I have to a.s.sume that the Harpers would likewise have enough craft to track us if we provided them with a convenient means of locating us . . . such as a fire.”

”That . . . sounds reasonable,” she said with what sounded like reluctance. Then she added, ”But don't we need something for warmth? Or to protect us from wild animals?”

”I'll settle for this as protection,” I said, indicating my sword and sounding much braver than I felt. ”As for warmth, we can always depend on your sunny disposition to suffuse the cave with suns.h.i.+ne-like radiance.”

”You don't have to be like that, you know,” she snapped, glaring at me. She had pulled her hood up so that practically the only thing I could see were her eyes. ”Always so nasty.”

”I'm not nasty,” I said nastily. ”I'm worrying about a dozen things at once, and having you question me about everything simply adds a thirteenth thing.”

”I have a right to question. I'm your princess. I will be your queen.”

”Not if I don't get you back alive,” I reminded her.

That shut her down. I was, I admit, surprised. She generally struck me as someone sufficiently feisty to continue arguing until she had no more energy to do so. Instead, she was silent for a time, and when she next spoke, it was less challenging and more of a direct inquiry. ”So . . . how do you plan to get me back? Alive or dead?”

It was a reasonable question. ”I don't rate our chances tremendously high in making it all the way back to your parents, just the two of us, on foot. Probably the best thing to do is find a commweaver and have him or her message your parents.”

There were two major methods of long-distance communication in Isteria and the surrounding lands. Sending birds with messages tied upon them was that most favored by those of limited funds. But that was a fairly unreliable proposition. If the bird wasn't well trained enough it could go astray, and even if it was perfectly trained, it could fall prey to predators. Far more reliable were commweavers, spellcasters who were able to utilize magical threads to send messages cast-to-cast. It was a highly specialized form of weaving, however, second only to farcasting in rarity, and it was not inexpensive. I said as much, pointing out that that might prove a drawback.

Entipy looked at me as if I was out of my mind, displaying some of the old att.i.tude that had been mercifully absent for a time.

”Money? Money is an issue?” She snorted derisively.

”Only when you don't have it. I have very little on me; certainly not enough to purchase the skills of a reliable commweaver. Do you have any?”

”We don't have need,” she said.

”We don't?”

”No.”

”Then what would you suggest in its place? Perhaps you could offer the weaver s.e.xual favors . . . ?”

She slapped me.

I suppose I deserved it. This was, after all, a princess, and my remark was nothing short of crude. Nevertheless, deserved or not, it was all I could do to refrain from smacking her right back. Instead I simply sat there, my right cheek red from where she had hit it. She didn't appear the least bit contrite over having done so, her eyes burning at the very suggestion.

”Your problem,” she said, ”is that you are accustomed to thinking like a peasant. That's what you were, after all, wasn't it.” It was not a question. ”I can tell. I can tell n.o.bility from a mile off, and you've none about you. You're some sort of . . . of charity case my parents took in. They do that on occasion, probably to make themselves feel important and less guilty about having everything while others have nothing. Well? A charity case, am I right? That they took in?”

”At least they took me in,” I said heatedly, ”instead of s.h.i.+pping me away because they couldn't stand me.”

Her hand swung again, but this time I caught it at the wrist. I held it there for a moment, Entipy pitting her strength against mine, but this was a contest even I could win. Her arm trembled with the strain and then I pushed it away. I remained alert for a another round, but she lowered her arm and settled for glaring at me.

”We will find a place . . . a civilized place,” she said haughtily, ”on the morrow. There's certain to be somewhere like that nearby.”

”Oh, is there,” I said with obvious sarcasm.

”Yes. And once there, I'll simply order a commweaver be brought to me. It will be a royal decree.”

”And it's going to be just that simple.”

”Yes, Apropos. Just that simple.”

”The last simple plan you had,” I pointed out, ”involved Tacit coming to get you and whisk you away so that you could live happily ever after. And as I recall, I claimed that you should never count on such cheerful conclusions. Considering how right I was, and how wrong you were, you might want to add more credence to what I tell you. And what I'm telling you now is that your scenario-while pleasantly convenient-is taking a h.e.l.l of a lot on faith. Faith may be fine for the Faith Women, but it can have somewhat dire consequences in the real world if that's what you're counting on to carry you through. Do you understand what I'm saying here, Highness?”

She made no reply, instead preferring to glower. But that was an improvement, I supposed, on listening to her talk, so I said nothing. Instead I leaned against the cave wall, reaching back to pull out my sword. She looked with silent surprise at me as I did so. ”Just in case,” I explained. ”If something surprises us in the night, I'd rather have a weapon in my lap than behind me.”

We lapsed into silence, simply sitting and watching the night roll in. I reached deep into myself, pulling up all the old techniques. I sniffed the air, listened as carefully as I could. I sensed things moving in the night, but they were small, insignificant. Nothing that would pay us any heed; indeed, things that would be more afraid of us than we of they. I hoped that cave would provide us sufficient insulation from the night air.

I was so busy listening for the slightest noise that I jumped a bit, startled, when she spoke. There was a bit of weariness in her voice; I could tell she was tired, but something was preying on her mind, and the growing fatigue was enough for her to voice her concern.

”Did you see him?” she asked.

”Him?” I had no idea who or what she was talking about.