Dragonfly

by Julia Golding

  Ramil began to feel nervous. It was all very well persuading a patrol by force to take them in, but how would the commander look upon their presence? It surely wouldn't have escaped his attention that Fergox would be ripping Brigard apart to find the two fugitives.

  A man of medium height and heavy build pushed the flap aside and strode into the room. Dressed smartly in the same green and brown colors of his patrol, he had curly dark-red hair and a hooked nose. No one could look into his face and make the mistake that here was a man to mess with. He gave a perfunctory bow.

  "Prince Ramil ac Burinholt, Princess Taoshira, welcome to Brigard," he said, taking a chair behind a table. "Please be seated." Melletin came in with some

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  camp stools and set them on the rugs in front of the commander's desk.

  Professor Norling bustled forward. "Your Grace, my patient cannot perch on that thing. She needs a proper chair at the very least."

  The man rose and picked up his own chair, bringing it round to Tashi.

  "Will that do, Tadex?" he asked, taking a stool for himself.

  Norling nodded and retired with his professional dignity intact to the pile of cushions at the side of the chamber. Gordoc placed Tashi in the chair, then stood behind her, arms folded.

  "Thank you for your welcome, sir," said Ramil, taking his seat. "May we know who addresses us?"

  "I am Nerul ac Mollinder, the Duke of Brigard, one of the last surviving members of the ruling family."

  Ramil stood up and bowed. "Your Grace, I am honored to meet you. We thought your family had been wiped out by the Spearthrower."

  Nerul spat at the mention of Fergox. "The last duke, my uncle, and his sons were killed in battle. My mother and father were hanged on the battlements of our castle in Mollinder when the occupier rode in to enjoy his triumph. The rest of my relatives are either dead or slaves. Only my brother and I slipped through the net like two of our fenland eels."

  "I grieve for the old duke and your family. My father always spoke most highly of him," said Ramil.

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  A slim red-haired man entered from the private quarters carrying a roll of parchment. From the strong resemblance between the two men, Ramil

  guessed this was the younger brother, but whereas Nerul gave the

  impression of authority and strength, this man was handsome and elegant, his movements graceful--the courtier to the commander.

  "My brother, Merl ac Mollinder," Nerul said in a businesslike tone.

  Merl bowed, inspecting the newcomers. He gave Ramil and Gordoc a brief glance, but his gaze lingered on the Princess. Tashi lowered her eyes, not liking his frank interest.

  "So, against the odds, you escaped the Spearthrower and stole his and the she-wolf's warhorses," Nerul said, his fingers laced together on the desk.

  "My spies carry all sorts of incredible tales about the pair of you-- and your giant." He nodded at Gordoc. "You will not be surprised to hear that Fergox and his sister are none too pleased. I understand that before you said your farewells to him, you were both destined in your different ways to join the Spearthrower dynasty."

  Ramil nodded. "Therefore you will understand why we were so anxious to put some distance between us and our suitors."

  "Quite. But what of the Princess here? You are very quiet, Your Highness."

  "I have nothing to say, Your Grace," Tashi replied, still feeling Merl's gaze on her. Each time she glanced up, he was watching her with a strange look in 187

  his eyes. Not fear, thank the Goddess, but speculation.

  "My spies tell me you endured the ungentle persuasion of the priests of Holin and refused to convert. The townsfolk are convinced you have demonic powers and that the escape was down to your evil arts," Nerul said, examining her face for her reaction.

  "Then the townsfolk are gullible fools." Tashi folded her hands together, taking the demure stance of the Fourth Crown Princess in the Hall of the Floating Lily.

  "But it is useful to Fergox for them to believe this as it makes his lapse in security less glaring. He wants no hint of weakness about his rule. He argues that no one can protect themselves against a demon on horseback."

  Nerul drummed his fingers on the table. The girl gave nothing away. "He has vowed to burn you at the stake in the town square when he catches you, you know, Princess."

  "At least he no longer wishes to marry me. I should be thankful for small mercies."

  Nerul frowned. "But what should I do with the pair of you, that is the question.

  If Fergox gets wind of you being here, he will no longer ignore our presence in this damp corner of his world. He has written us off as too difficult, content to box us in and cut off our lines of communication when and where he can, but with you here, that all might change."

  "There is a hundred thousand herald reward for your recapture, Princess,"

  Merl added in his soft, smooth voice. "Only fifty thousand for you, Prince, I'm afraid."

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  "I'm deeply offended," muttered Ramil, trying to catch Tashi's eye and make her smile. He was less worried now that he'd met Nerul as he felt certain that here was an honorable man. Whatever Nerul decided about them, it would not be to betray them to the enemy.

  Nerul stopped drumming, having come to a decision. "Your arrival here is obviously a problem for us, but I would prefer to see it as an opportunity. I have before me representatives of the last two free nations-- the next targets on Fergox's list. Before you sits the head of a resistance movement that spreads far beyond this sorry-looking bog. I have relations with similar groups throughout the Empire, even in Fergox's capital, Tigral. Fergox thinks he is invincible. He keeps on expanding his rule but forgets about the people he has walked over. His slaves are so badly treated they have little to lose and much to gain if they were to rise. We will not remain crushed by his war machine, but we need arms and allies. Together we may be able to knock him from his throne once and for all."

  Ramil had no hesitation. "I know I speak for my father when I say that any assistance we can offer your resistance will be yours for the asking. All I need is a method of communicating with him and I am sure he will fulfill my words with deeds."

  Nerul turned to the Blue Crescent Islander. "Princess?"

  "Your Grace, you will know that I share the rule of my lands with my sisters so am not empowered to undertake alliances without their agreement,"

  Tashi said formally. "Also my current status is under question since 189

  my abduction. I have no idea what steps have been taken either to restore me or to replace me."

  "Perhaps I can help you there," Nerul said. "I have an excellent source in King Lagan's court who keeps me well informed. The Blue Crescent were going to declare war on Gerfal but were convinced by King Lagan that he was innocent in the matter of your abduction. The Princess Briony is guest on your ships as a pledge of good faith. But as to what is happening in your court at home, I have no idea, I'm afraid. I have insufficient funds to buy information from an Islander and I have never yet succeeded in placing one of my own spies on Rama, more's the pity."

  "No, that would be difficult," Tashi said, allowing herself a small smile of satisfaction. It was very hard indeed to imagine an Easterner successfully infiltrating the court, not least because they would look like a duck among swans and be caught out at the first ritual. "If I am still recognized as the Fourth Crown Princess, I promise I will ask my sisters to look favorably on your request."

  "We could use your help at sea. That has always been our weak point. No rebellion can survive starved of supplies. Speaking of which, I have been most deficient as a host. You have not eaten or drunk anything since your arrival and we must repair the oversight. Come with me. We were about to have supper and it's already laid in the room beyond."

  As they relaxed after the meal with a glass of wine and a handful of hazelnuts, Nerul looked thoughtfully at Tashi.

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  "I think, Princess, that we should best keep
it a secret that you have joined us--secret from our own people, I mean. As you are no doubt all too aware, some of them entertain strange ideas about the Islanders and no one is above temptation. A hundred thousand heralds might test the loyalty of even my most faithful men." He looked over at Melletin, who with Professor Norling had joined them for supper. "Did you tell your men to keep their mouths shut?"

  Melletin nodded. "I told them you would separate them from their manly pride if they squeaked so much as a word."

  Nerul grinned. "That's the least I would do to them. And I trust everyone in this room knows how to keep a secret?"

  Melletin and Norling murmured their assent.

  "But won't they realize?" Tashi asked. "I don't exactly blend in." She gestured to her hair. No one in the East had such fair hair; the lightest color being a mousy brown.

  "I'm afraid it will necessitate a disguise on your part, Princess. If you would consent to wear the clothes of one of our ladies, you could dye your hair.

  Professor, do you have something the lady could use?"

  "Yes, yes, that's very simple. What color do you fancy?" Norling rifled through his bag.

  "I suggest red," said Merl with a lingering look at Tashi. "Then we can say she is a distant cousin who has returned from her education abroad. This will both

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  explain the accent and account for her escaping Fergox's purge."

  "Then red it is. It will wash out, of course. I brewed it myself for our spies."

  Norling placed on the table a vial of dark liquid.

  Merl snatched it up before Tashi could take it.

  "As we cannot risk allowing a maid to see you as you are, perhaps you would allow me to assist you, Princess? We have a wash tent through here."

  "I ... er ... I ... " Tashi tried to think of a polite way of refusing.

  "It is no trouble and I'm sure you understand the necessity of not being seen about camp as you are," Merl continued smoothly.

  Ramil fumed as he watched Tashi being led further into the family rooms of the tent. Nerul gazed after the pair, his expression thoughtful.

  "It seems my brother has taken a shine to our guest," he said, stretching his muscular arms above his head and yawning.

  "The Princess Taoshira is . . . was my betrothed," Ramil said hotly.

  Nerul gave him a sharp look. "Is or was?"

  Ramil rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. He no longer knew. "Our marriage plans were interrupted by our unexpected jaunt to Brigard."

  "Oh? My sources tell me that she had called the alliance off just prior to her disappearance," Nerul said lightly. "It seems to me that the young lady is free to choose her own partner now."

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  Chapter 11

  Merl ordered his servant to bring hot water and leave it outside the wash tent. Draping a towel over Tashi's shoulders, he poured a warm jugful over her hair, whisking it expertly from her neck and letting it drip into the basin.

  She wondered where he had learned the skill of washing a woman's hair but did not dare ask. Neither of them spoke as he massaged in some perfumed soap, his fingers lingering as they brushed the nape of her neck. Tashi felt goosebumps all down her spine and prayed that he would not notice her response to his touch. Rinsing the suds from her hair, he then applied the dye. The water turned orange-red in the bowl.

  "The professor is an expert in dreaming up these disguises. A very useful ally," Merl said, breaking the silence as he wrapped a towel around her damp hair. "I'm in charge of our spy network in Mollinder and, thanks to the professor, we are able to give our agents a new appearance when needed.

  He even has a dye for skin to make you as dark as your friend, Prince Ramii, 193

  though I would hate to see that on you. Your skin is beautiful--the color of milk."

  Tashi knew that her cheeks were definitely not the color of milk--more the color of raspberries. No man spoke to a woman like this in the Islands.

  Courting was done by the exchange of poetry and hints. Merl was about as subtle as a brass band.

  "Too much flattery, sir," she replied, shifting to finger-dry her hair in front of the stove.

  Merl took a comb and began to untangle her locks. "You cannot have too much flattery, Your Highness. I speak only the truth. I fear you have been neglected if you think my praise excessive. A beautiful woman should hear such words from all her admirers. There!" He stepped back. "Now all you need are some clothes. I have sent for some to be laid out for you in my chamber. Allow me to show you where that is."

  He offered his arm and led her to his room. On the bed was a long green gown, scoop-necked in Eastern fashion.

  "I'll leave you to change," he said, kissing her fingers.

  Tashi slipped out of her shirt and pulled the gown over her head. It fell in a full skirt from her hips and was cinched by a belt embroidered with white lilies. She guessed it must have once belonged to one of the ladies of the ac Mollinder family. Pacing to the mirror, she presented herself for inspection, amazed and confused by the transformation. She was used to seeing herself in the many layers of the Blue Crescent robes; now she stood in a gown that clung to every curve of her body. Her

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  neck felt exposed. She knew from Fergox's court that this was normal for a lady in these lands, but it made her self-conscious. And her hair: it now rippled over her shoulders, shining with a copper flame.

  Merl coughed outside the door. "May I enter?"

  "Yes, I'm ready," Tashi replied, though she felt far from prepared to meet anyone just yet.

  Merl stood in the doorway and paused dramatically, holding out his hands.

  "You are a vision of loveliness, Princess. You were beautiful in your rags; you are radiant in your riches. My little cousin indeed."

  "I'm not sure," Tashi said, putting her hands to her cheeks. "It's not how an Islander would dress."

  "Exactly. You're an honorary Brigardian now. Trust me, you will do very well."

  He escorted her back to where the others were waiting.

  "May I present her ladyship, the copper lily of the ac Mollinder family."

  The men rose on her entrance, Ramil wide-eyed, Gordoc beaming proudly, but Nerul looked sad.

  "It was my mother's dress," he said softly, leading her to a cushion beside him. "But I think she would be pleased to see you wearing it, cousin, as it becomes you so well."

  Ramil was not pleased when Merl made the suggestion that the Princess, as suited her role as family member, be provided with quarters in the commander's tent.

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  "Surely you see, Prince, that it will be easier to hide your presence among us if we separate you?" Merl said smoothly. "We can say you are a mercenary soldier come from the southern desert. Our giant here is Brigardian so no one will wonder that he joined us."

  As much as Ramil hated the idea of leaving Tashi to be sweet-talked by a man he had decided was an unbearable flirt, he could think of no sensible protest to raise against what was a sound plan.

  "Will you be all right, Tashi?" Ramil asked, which was his way of enquiring if she minded being abandoned to Merl's assiduous attentions.

  "I'll manage," she replied, amused by Ramil's sullen expression. She knew that Ramil had never desired her as a woman--he'd been quick enough to make his distaste plain back in Gerfal--so she thought he was being merely protective of her. That he might be jealous did not cross her mind.

  "You clearly have ways of getting news from Gerfal, Your Grace," Tashi said, turning to her host. "Is it possible to pass a message to my people and to King Lagan to tell them we are safe?"

  "There are Brigardian exiles in Falburg who keep me informed of court gossip," Nerul explained. "We have a number of ways of communicating but in winter most news comes via the fishing fleet as the mountain passes are closed. You can certainly send a message that way."

  "And could we return by sea?" Ramil asked eagerly.

  Nerul shook his head. "Your chances of success are slight. The Pir
ate Fleet searches every vessel and is being

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  very thorough since your escape. Coded messages may pass where people cannot."

  "Pehaps Prince Ramil might be able to hide himself amongst a crew?"

  suggested Merl. "But I'm afraid the Princess would stand out--there are no women on board those boats."

  Ramil was not going to let the Brigardian noble separate him from Tashi so easily.

  "I gave my word to the Princess that we would escape together so I will not abandon her in Brigard. If I did this, her people would probably declare war--

  and rightly so--as Gerfal is to blame for allowing her to be abducted in the first place. No, if we travel to Gerfal, we go together. But not by sea, it would seem."

  "Not by sea," echoed Nerul. "But there is still much that can be done as we wait for word from your father. Fergox will not sit still while the snow falls.

  This is the time of preparation before he unleashes his forces. We should make that interval as difficult for him as possible."

  "Upset Fergox?" Ramil lay back on his cushion and grinned. "I like the sound of that. Count me in."

  Tashi felt at ease in the tent room that had been given over to her. For the first time in Brigard she was in a space both comfortable and simple. Her bed was a canvas stretched over poles, warm and soft with ample cushions and sweet-smelling blankets. Hangings woven with golden flax and marsh flowers decorated

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  the walls, making the chamber feel as if it belonged to this landscape, a hidden corner of the Fens. More dresses had been found for her and a fur-lined cloak, but best of all a pair of snug-fitting leather shoes.

  Left alone to perform her rituals in the privacy of her room, she found new peace in saying the prayers. In prison, the rituals had become a distressing process which she forced herself to complete out of duty. Then had come the dark days of doubt, when every word felt like a curse upon her. Now trusting, as Ramil had suggested, that the Goddess's way still lay before her even if it was leading her down strange paths, she relaxed and lingered in the beauty and tranquillity of the ancient liturgy. She began to see new depths to the movements, understanding that the gestures were not just punctuations to the speech but prayers themselves, like a symbolic dance.