“If I am home, I know what to do. I ride and bring her back. But here, I do not know what to do. If I go to Lios, will I start trouble? Rhis! You always know what to say, I see this in the few days we are here. So I ask you. What shall we do?”
Shera let out a long sigh. “If the King of Arpalon finds out, he’ll have a perfect excuse for war. Not that that is our affair.”
“Is. Mine. War against Damatras will mean Arpalon’s army marches through my lands,” Taniva stated. “I do not care who wants what. When armies march, their trail leaves broken land. Especially if Damatras tries to meet them outside his border, as any smart king will do. It will be in High Plains he does it.”
“Jarvas’s father is smart,” Shera added in a sour voice. “At least, when it comes to fighting. Anything else is arguable, from what I overheard at my mother’s court.”
Taniva gave her a look of mild appraisal. “You speak right, you.”
Before she could go on someone new banged on the door.
“Reez! Reez!”
“That’s Yuzhyu,” Rhis said, looking at the other two. They just stared back at her, so she went to the door herself. “Yes?”
“I must see you. Trouble! Zat pest from Arpalon—”
Rhis opened the door.
Yuzhyu almost tumbled in, her frizzy blond hair wild. “Ah!” She pointed at Taniva. “I am in stable. I want to ride. Before ze boomer-in-sky. I hear him. He see me once. I zink. He zink I not . . . om! Um! Conceive? Follow?”
“Understand?”
Yuzhyu nodded in relief. “Jarvas zink I not understand so much. But I do. I know he want zat princess. Iss angry wid my—my cousin . . .” Yuzhyu looked away, and Rhis knew she was referring to Iardith’s determined courtship of the false Lios.
Before Rhis could draw another breath, Yuzhyu pulled from her clothing not one but two long, wicked looking knives. For a moment she held them along her forearm, blades out, then with a complicated whirl she flipped the knives up, caught their handles, and held them points out.
Taniva whistled, her approval unmistakable.
“He like trouble,” Yuzhyu said. “Make trouble for my cousin.” She moved her hands in a quick blur, and the blades vanished in her clothing again. “I zee you come here. I sit and zink. Do I tell my cousin? Or do I follow Jarvas, make him come back wiss princess? No, I first zee why you are here.” On the word ‘cousin’ Yuzhyu sent a questioning look Rhis’s way.
Rhis shook her head.
Yuzhyu’s expressive brows arched in relief.
“I do not want war,” Taniva said. “I have said nothing to anyone yet, except here.” An emphatic thumb toward the floor of Rhis’s room.
All three of the others looked at Rhis.
And Rhis stared back, wondering why they expected her to decide.
Should they all troop off and find Lios? No. Not the pretend Lios.
She slid her hands over her face. War—Dandiar—Lios—
The whirling thoughts, each carrying its own load of emotions, seemed to turn her brain into stone.
Then something Yuzhyu had said recurred, and she said, “We can go after them, and bring Iardith back.”
Taniva’s dark brows lifted, and she whistled soundlessly. “Yes. Then there is no war.”
Yuzhyu nodded slowly. “And no skittle? Scattle?”
“Scandal,” Shera said dryly. “Get her back? How? We don’t have armies. We don’t even have guides!”
“I guide.” Taniva smacked herself in the front. “This, I know what to do. How to tell Lios, how to avoid war when I am in another land, that I do not know. I act in my land. Here I listen only.”
Yuzhyu concentrated on Taniva, her mouth moving, but at the end she gave an emphatic nod of agreement.
Shera sighed, long and shuddering. “It—well, it makes sense. If it wasn’t us. I mean, if no one finds out about the abduction, then there can’t be any war, right? Only how can we save her?”
“It is for you to talk,” Taniva said to Rhis “You talk good. You get her out without war.”
Shera sighed again. “I’d offer to come, but I don’t know that I could do anything.”
Rhis said, “You know all the local politics, and I sure don’t. I never needed it before!”
All four looked at one another.
Rhis shook her head. An abduction? War? None of it yet seemed real.
Her inner eye offered her a memory of Dandiar’s face, but she thrust it away in anger. His masquerade was real enough, and so was the anger and hurt she felt.
Even so, she did not want there to be a war. And if she could prevent it, why not do so? And, oh, if she could make some kind of . . . grand gesture, show that Dandiar—
Show him what?
“If we ride fast, we catch up,” Taniva said. She gave a grim smile. “Jarvas will not find it so fast, traveling with female not want to travel. Maybe this Arpalon pest makes journey heavy for Jarvas. We catch up, Rhis talk Jarvas out of it. If he acts like fool, we steal princess back. I know how to do that.” She grinned, a challenging grin, and smacked her hand against the jeweled blade hilt at her waist. “It’s a game for us, in High Plains. We ride back with her. Pretend we make long journey together. No war.”
“Ride fast?” Shera repeated faintly. “How long a fast ride?”
“Week.” Taniva shrugged. “Maybe two.”
Rhis and Shera exchanged grimaces. Two weeks? They’d never ridden longer than an afternoon. If that.
“Put must pe now.” Yuzhyu pointed up at the sky. “Rain goink.” Her expression changed. “I get horses.” She whirled around. “You ride?”
“Ponies,” Rhis admitted.
“On bridle paths,” Shera said slowly.
Yuzhyu grinned. “Is enough. You learn on ride.”
Taniva said, “I go with you. Give commands to my people. They say nothing to anyone. No one knows.” She turned around. “You two come to stable with things. I will make ready.”
And the two princesses whisked out the door.
“Two weeks?” Shera squeaked.
Rhis thought about Dandiar—no. “If they can do it, I can do it,” she said firmly. Adding in a lower voice, “Two weeks away sounds fine to me.”
“They might be able to disappear without causing comment, but what about us?” Shera said.
“Well, I happen to have declared that I’m leaving today,” Rhis said, feeling that horrible heat in her face again.
But Shera was too preoccupied to notice. “I did as well. It’s really our maids, then. What do we tell them? I know mine will send messages back to my mother.”
“Then don’t tell her anything,” Rhis said. “She’s already packing—have her unpack, except for a riding journey. She needn’t know any more than that.”
Shera stood up, then plopped down again. “What do I need?”
Rhis rubbed her thumb against her lip. She remembered a few of her childhood journeys, before Elda had declared that it was time to become a young lady. “Riding clothes. A waterproofed cloak, if you have one. Money, if you have it. We’ll probably find cleaning frames, or maybe we’ll use streams, but this much I remember: you can’t overburden horses with a lot of stuff.”
Shera stared down at her hands, then nodded. “Yes. That makes sense. All right, then, two riding outfits, one to wear, and one to keep as a spare . . .”
She went out, muttering.
Rhis opened the door to the little side room that served as her wardrobe. There she found Keris busy. The woman curtseyed, then went back to her work sewing beads back onto Rhis’s masquerade gown. When had she torn it? A pang of guilt squeezed her heart. She sighed.
Keris had been selected by Rhis’s own mother. Where did trust begin?
It has to begin here, Rhis thought.
“Keris, there’s trouble,” she said.
Keris looked up, her face kind, but aware. And not surprised.
“How much did you hear?” Rhis asked, pointing back to her room.
“Very little from you and your guests,” Keris said. “But I am afraid that Princess Iardith’s maids are hysterical. His highness’s own people are keeping them sequestered—and protected.”
“Then Lios knows,” Rhis murmured—and Dandiar’s image came to mind. Lios’s image. Odd, how the right face flickered before her inner eye, but the names were still backward. That handsome fellow has his own name. Andos.
Rhis shook her head. “We’re going to bring her back. But I don’t want anyone to know. Including Shera’s maid, if you can. The idea is to prevent war, not cause it. I do have my sister’s ring, in case there’s danger, so we ought to be all right.”
A crease appeared in Keris’s brow, but she merely bowed her head.
Rhis looked away, fighting that detestable blush that always betrayed her. “This morning I, ah, made it clear to, ah, the prince of Vesarja that I was going home. I’m not sure what to say now. I don’t really want to say anything, I just want to go, get Iardith, and think.”
“I can put it about that you decided to take a little trip instead,” Keris offered. “Some time for reflection.”
Rhis said hesitantly, “Shera is going to come. I don’t think she is telling anyone. She doesn’t want trouble at home.”
“Leave it to me,” Keris said. “I know your mother would be pleased that you’re trying to take action to help another. And as you say, you have Princess Sidal’s ring. I will get your things together.”
Rhis sighed with relief, her face warming at the compliment.
Each turned to her task. Rhis was glad to get out of her wet clothes at last, and into her riding outfit. While Keris was busy packing a satchel, Rhis stuffed a goodly portion of her jewels into a pocket in her tunic. She did not know how the other three would fare for money, but Rhis knew that gems were easily replaced in Nym, and they would have to get food somehow.
Shera reappeared just about the time Rhis was done. Each hefted up a fairly heavy satchel; by the time she reached the end of the hallway, Rhis was sorry that she’d included her tiranthe. What had seemed a scarce selection of essentials while the satchel was lying on the dressing table now seemed like a year’s worth.
“Ugh,” Shera muttered, shifting hers to her other shoulder. “If we have to carry these the entire way, I’m not going to make it.”
“Horses,” Rhis said.
“Then the horses get the weight—including us.”
Rhis grimaced. Her insides had tied into knots of apprehension, lest someone see her. Someone like Dandiar. Er, Lios.
But the hallways were empty; either something had been planned to draw the guests, or everyone was still tired from the masquerade.
Whatever the reason, she and Shera made it down to the stables without seeing anyone they knew, and there they found the other two waiting.
Rhis was surprised to see three young women—one of them a girl, on closer look—waiting with Taniva, all armed with swords, knives, bows, and spears. These spears they carried in the crooks of their arms, pointing at a slant forward, horsehair decorations below the blades streaming. They each led a couple of riderless horses on long ropes. Satchels and travel gear had been strapped to their backs.
Taniva saw everyone mounted up. Rhis got a shaggy horse with yellow hair. Shera’s was a roan beast who showed teeth at Rhis’s, sidling and rolling its eyes.
Rhis looked around with apprehension, but the few stablehands in sight were busy elsewhere. No one seemed particularly interested in Taniva’s prospective riding party.
In silence they rode out into the misting rain. The silence stretched as they cantered easily down the stone-paved road, first south through the gates, and then west, to catch up with the north road. Rhis discovered that riding a horse wasn’t all that different than riding a pony, except the animal was much taller.
Rhis pulled her waterproof cloak around her like a tent. This cloak had been a gift from Sidal, the magic spells that kept the water running down it performed by her. Shera also had a magic-protected cloak. Neither of the others did; Taniva’s hooded jacket was made of long white yeath-fur, naturally water-repellent, and hideously expensive anywhere but in the highlands, where the yeath shed their coats every spring, scratching the strands off in clumps against bristly shrubs. It then had to be picked off by hand.
Yuzhyu wore a layered cape of wool that seemed to keep her warm, if not as dry as the others. Her yellow hair was damp, but her face, glowing pink from the cool wind, was expressive of good-natured enjoyment.
The sight of Taniva’s silent guards, who had put their spears into rests hanging from their saddles, made her mind range back to what Keris had said. Then she considered what Keris had not said.
Rhis knew there were two worlds in any given castle, palace, or home big enough to function as a little kingdom inside itself. There were the servers and the served. If people had lots of money and power, they could be served and do nothing.
Rhis had also learned that there were two kinds of loyalty: there was paid loyalty, and personal loyalty. When young Ama, the upstairs maid, had been so sick, Rhis had done all her room chores herself. Why not? She’d learned how to braid her hair and dress herself when she was small, because her mother had insisted. And she knew how to make a bed and sweep a floor and pass dirty clothes through the cleaning frame, fold them, and stow them in the chests. So she’d done it, just as her older sister Sidal had done it, but afterward she’d realized that Ama the steward had a different attitude toward her than she did toward Elda, who expected her servants to work every day, just like she did. She often said that if you did your duty, you had no time to be sick—but then she never seemed to get sick.
When Rhis had talked about it with Sidal, her sister had said, “Paid loyalty stops at the chores the person is hired to do, just as if I were hired to guard a caravan down the mountain. I would do that, and only that, unless I found the leaders to be worth my personal loyalty. Then I might choose to see them safely home past the agreed-on place, or give them some other help that was not in the contract, like watching their little ones during a rest stop. It’s my personal choice. Friendship works that way. You don’t have paid friends—and never forget that, if you do end up living in a court somewhere. There is no such thing as paid friends. Paid companions, whose job it would be to nod and smile and pretend you’re the center of their lives, courts are full of those.”
The other girls were all silent, obviously lost in their own thoughts. I don’t know Keris, Rhis thought. She doesn’t really know me. But if she has personal loyalty, it would be to my mother.
That left Shera’s maid, who might be reporting on Shera out of personal loyalty to the Queen of Gensam. She didn’t have any loyalty to Shera, or she wouldn’t be sending reports back. Or did she, and the reports were written to please the queen—to hide worrisome things, and report only the good things?
Rhis didn’t feel she could ask Shera those questions. She couldn’t even resolve them in her own situation. What worried her most was what Lios might find out—if he did, and what would happen. Keris had promised that she would ‘take care of everything.’ Rhis did not know what that really meant.
It means I should not worry about it, Rhis thought. Since I can’t do anything about that any more. I chose to see this chore through. She sighed. She was tired, despite the night of sleep, and desperately hungry, for she still had not eaten, though the sun was well west.
So she turned her attention to her companions. Yuzhyu had brought no one along, just like Shera (whose head was bowed, and occasional sniffs issued forth from under her hood) and Rhis. Taniva had the three servants with her. Even the girl was armed and very fierce looking.
These three set up camp once Taniva had chosen a good spot beside a stream, where the horses had sweet grass to crop. They were swift and efficient; in a shorter time than Rhis expected they had two tents set up, and a savory-smelling meal cooking: mostly boiled grain, with spices added in, shallots one found farther down stream, and sprinkled ov
er it a very sharp cheese that they’d brought from home and preserved carefully.
The portions were small but Rhis discovered the grain was filling. The dishes were carved out of wood, very flat—easy to pack, Rhis discovered, watching them clean up.
They ate in silence that first night. They were all far too tired, even Taniva, who sat brooding near the fire, which reflected in her eyes. The sleeping arrangements were crowded—Taniva and the servants in with her (one of the women was always on guard duty) and the other three princesses in the tent that had been the servants’. They slept rolled up in their cloaks and capes, with clothes from their packs as pillows. Nobody had night clothes.
Rhis was determined not to complain. Adventure, she kept telling herself. She avoided the other term in the old saying: she did not want to think about tragedy.
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CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Rhis never liked to remember the first part of the ride after that. Not that much remained in memory but a weary blur. A painful weary blur.
She could never count up how many days it lasted. One day, near the end, when the worst of it was almost over, she woke up before dawn at the same time as the High Plains people did, instead of having to be shaken awake. The day’s hard ride had gradually ceased to feel unbearable. Perhaps the tough High Plains princess had seen Shera’s silent tears and relented about the terrible pace at last.
That night, instead of feeling the urge to drop into exhausted sleep the moment her dinner-chores were done, Rhis looked forward to staying up. She even brought out the tiranthe that had banged against the back of her left leg for days and days until she almost threw it away.
But she didn’t throw it away, and was glad she hadn’t. The ride hadn’t gotten easier, she realized as she tried to limber up her fingers. It was just that she’d found it easier to endure. As for Shera, Rhis hadn’t seen the tears for a couple of days. Rhis admired Shera for how grimly she’d stuck to a task she clearly had begun to dislike right from the beginning.
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