He never did give me any further explanation as to the reason for his "warning." Perhaps he had no other that he could truly articulate. In retrospect, I can only a.s.sume that his desire was to make me nervous. I think he wanted to see me sweat, or at the very least plant in my head some degree of apprehension about the task that lay ahead. In short: He didn't want to take the slightest chance that I might actually take some pleasure in what was to come, no antic.i.p.atory glee in the prospect of being trusted by the queen herself to be the personal escort to the future ruler of the throne. Morningstar might very well have confused my motives with his own. I knew his type all too well from having seen it not only around the palace, but all my life. He had his own serious ambitions for social climbing. He probably thought that I was of a similar persuasion, and that I would have regarded some sort of mandated close relationship with the princess as a potential tie to the king or the throne. In that spirit, he probably didn't want to take a chance that I might, even for a short time, be pleased about the a.s.signment. So he thought he'd spoil my mood.

He didn't comprehend that my mood had been spoiled the day that I was born, and it had only been downhill from there.

Chapter 13.

It was comforting to know that I still retained enough of my skills in woodsmanship to smell smoke when it was out there.

The journey to the Holy Retreat had gone without incident until that point. Indeed, it had been so utterly trouble-free that I found myself getting a bit nervous about it for no reason that I could determine. Our escort party numbered about twenty, which seemed more than enough. We were under the command of Sir Nestor, one of the king's personal guards. He was affable enough, although all business when it came to matters of security. He kept an advance party lurking about, making sure that the way was clear. He exuded a quiet confidence that I found somewhat heartening. Sir Umbrage, for his part, didn't seem especially heartened by it at all. Instead he had a tendency to keep looking around the woods, squinting against the sun, trying to see something that did not readily appear to be perceptible. Perhaps he was trying to find random threads of fate and sort them out.

I had asked him before we set off why, if he was so apprehensive about our little mission, he didn't simply pull some sort of stunt similar to that which had gotten him out of our war effort. "There is a fine line between unfortunate happenstance and perceived deliberate inept.i.tude," he had replied.

"You're saying you think they might have caught on."

He nodded. He was probably right although, considering how things turned out, he might have been well advised to take that risk.

For my part, I had found myself doing the same thing during the trip as Sir Umbrage. I scoured the forests, the beaten pathways ahead of us, for some sign of pursuit or some danger that might be approaching us. None had been readily apparent.

And yet . . .

And yet I couldn't help but feel that something was out there. I couldn't determine precisely what that might be, nor was I able to figure out what might prompt me to think that. Yet I thought it just the same. I would glance deep into the woods, sometimes quickly snapping my gaze in that direction at random intervals as if trying to catch someone watching us. I never saw anything. Yet I kept having the feeling that there was something out there, just beyond my perceptions, dancing just outside of my field of vision and-worst of all-laughing at my inability to spot him or her or it. The woods and forest areas through which we traveled had none of the sheer oppressive mood of the Elderwoods, which had been my primary former haunt. My new surroundings were innocuous enough. But I still felt there was something there, and I misliked that I couldn't begin to guess what it might be. In all likelihood, it was simply my imagination. The problem was: I wasn't that imaginative a person. So when such things presented themselves, it tended to make me . . . apprehensive.

I had restrained my worries, though, because we had a journey of several days ahead of us, and nothing was going to be served by my fretting and voicing concerns the entire way. All I would do was annoy Sir Umbrage, who was already in an apprehensive enough mood, and the other knights and squires in the company who seemed to regard my presence as something of an aberration at best, an annoyance at worst.

At least I had been given a horse for the purposes of the journey. That was a b.l.o.o.d.y great relief. I managed to get about well enough on my lame leg, but even with the aid of my staff, lengthy walks were not my favorite pastime. Not unless I had the opportunity to rest repeatedly along the way. The horse was nothing special. She was a relatively small, dabbled beast named Alexandra, and I doubted she was very fleet of foot. Then again, neither was I, so I could hardly condemn the poor creature for not possessing that which I also lacked.

The weather had been quite temperate, the conversation pleasant if a bit strained from time to time, and the entire trip had been fairly free of stress, aside from my free-floating anxiety that we were being pursued, watched, or in some other way being monitored. So it was somewhat jolting when I first scented the smoke. I could tell from Alexandra's reaction that she sensed it too. There was some slight hesitation on the part of a couple of other mounts, but the puzzled looks on the faces of the other knights indicated that they weren't quite certain what was putting the horses out of sorts.

"There's a fire ahead," I said.

This drew looks from Nestor, Umbrage, and several others. "I smell nothing," said Nestor. "Are you sure? I don't smell anything."

"Yes, I'm sure. The horses smell it, too. Look at them."

Nestor raised a hand, palm up, indicating that the rest of the group should come to a halt. They did so and he tilted his head back, sniffed the air. Finally he nodded slowly. "Yes. Yes, you're right. Redondo, Messina." He summoned two of the more reliable members of the advance scouts. "Check on ahead. Report back. See if it's a camp of some sort. If so, see if it's hostiles."

"It's not an encampment," I said with conviction. "It's bigger than that, I'd warrant."

"Perhaps. We'll see."

We waited then for what seemed an interminable time, although I doubt it was really all that long. Then Redondo and Messina returned, and they appeared quite agitated. They went straight to Nestor and the three of them spoke in low whispers. I didn't have to see Nestor's face to tell that he was clearly upset, and then he turned to us and said, "Full speed, lads. It's the Holy Retreat. Someone's torched the place!"

The announcement galvanized everyone in the group. Even Umbrage seemed inclined to drop his usual air of quiet befuddlement and called out, "The princess? Is she there? Is she unharmed?"

"We don't know," returned Nestor. "The squad spotted some people milling about, but it was hard to discern. No talking now! Full speed, I said, d.a.m.n your eyes!"

I can tell you, there's nothing like having someone say "d.a.m.n your eyes" to let you know that they're genuinely concerned.

So with our eyes in serious danger of d.a.m.nation, we spurred our steeds onward until we were practically thundering through the woods. Soon the smoke was strong enough that one could have smelled it through a raging head cold. We emerged from the woods then and we were able to see, in the near distance, the Holy Retreat of the Faith Women . . . or at least, what was left of it.

I had never been to the Holy Retreat, although I had heard that it was a simple but elegant structure which had served the unadorned needs of the Faith Women. I would never have been able to tell firsthand, however, because the place was in ruins. We arrived just in time to see one small, still-remaining part of the structure collapse in on itself. It simply gave up and fell with a groan of splintering wood.

Cl.u.s.tered around the front of the Holy Retreat were a number of forms which I would have a.s.sumed to be women. It was an a.s.sumption because the Faith Women tended to dress in rather dreary, as.e.xual garb. Indeed, the only reason we knew for sure that they were female was because they called themselves the Faith Women. I'd spotted Faith Women from time to time, embarking on missions of mercy and such. A couple of them had more of a mustache than I, so in a way we were all more or less taking their word that they were as advertised.

We thundered across the open ground, we knights, and I fancy that we made a rather impressive sight. After all, there's nothing like seeing twenty armed men arriving too late to do anything about a disaster that truly stirs the heart to bursting with emotion. We reined up a respectful distance from the Faith Women, who were simply standing there and staring at us. Their faces were inscrutable. We had no idea whether they were happy to see us, or distressed, or even cared one way or the other.

"Who is in charge here?" he called to the group.

The Faith Women looked at one another, and then one of their number stepped forward. We should have been able to tell that she was in charge. She was the only woman I'd ever seen who had so much facial hair, she could have braided her eyebrows. Her hands were hidden within the folds of her garment, her hair obscured by a hood. Her eyes were hard and cold. She said nothing, simply waited. That she said nothing didn't surprise me. Faith Women tended to be a fairly conservative lot, cherishing words as if they were coins, and loath to toss them around in a wasteful fashion.

"I am Sir Nestor, dispatched by King Runcible to retrieve his daughter, the Princess Entipy." His horse moved around slightly, apparently still a bit spooked by the smoke wafting into the air. He steadied his mount and continued, "Obviously, you have had a great disaster here."

The Faith Woman nodded. Her face remained impa.s.sive.

"Do not think me insensitive to your plight, or uncaring of the fate of all of your order, but my mandate requires me to be a bit single-minded," Nestor continued. "My first, my only, priority is the princess. So let me get to the heart of the matter: Is the princess all right? Was she injured? Is she-" He obviously didn't want to say the word "alive." None of us were looking forward to the prospect of returning to the king carrying a large vase and informing His Highness that his only child was in residence within.

The Faith Woman did not answer immediately. She seemed to be searching for words. Then, apparently opting for a mute reply, she stepped aside and gestured toward her a.s.sociates.

A hooded figure stepped forward. She was smaller than the rest, the face fully obscured by the hood. She took a few steps, stopped, then squared her shoulders, arched her back, and withdrew the hood.

She looked rather small, almost swimming in the outfit she wore. Her face was carefully neutral. Her long hair was unkempt, although that was probably understandable given the circ.u.mstances. I saw nothing of autumn and raging seas in her, as Morningstar had described her. She seemed rather sullen, actually, fairly unremarkable in appearance, although there was a sort of vague prettiness about her. She did have a regal bearing, I'd certainly credit her that. She was no longer a child, but instead clearly a young woman.

"Princess . . . are you all right?" asked Nestor with concern that was mixed with obvious relief.

She nodded. That was all. Just nodded. So far none of the females had spoken a word.

"We're here to bring you home. Your father and mother very much look forward to seeing you once more."

Another nod.

Nestor turned his attention back to the women. "Now . . . my dear Faith Women . . . this is clearly a great tragedy. Would you care to tell me how this came about? Was it by accident, or did some swine attack you? If the latter, we can make sure that justice is done. If the former, we have means of offering compensation, for the king and queen are most grateful for the fine tutelage you have given their daughter . . . and their grat.i.tude will be vastly increased upon learning that you have clearly managed to save her from any jeopardy this unfortunate conflagration might have presented. In short, I am asking: How may we be of service to you?"

The Faith Woman looked at her compatriots in stony silence. Their expressions were as granite-etched as her own. She looked back to us, and then one of her hands emerged from within the folds of her sleeves. It was long and a bit bony, and she pointed it, trembling somewhat, at the princess.

And the Faith Woman, speaking each word in a careful, measured tone, said, "Get . . . her . . . the f.u.c.k . . . f.u.c.k . . . out of here." out of here."

There was no reaction of horror or shame at the profanity spoken by their leader. Instead all the heads of the Faith Women bobbed up and down in silent agreement.

That was when Entipy smiled. Really smiled.

I had never seen a smile quite like it. She looked at us-looked at me-with that smile, and the smiled seemed to say, h.e.l.lo. You're going to your grave, and it's going to be my doing. h.e.l.lo. You're going to your grave, and it's going to be my doing.

And Umbrage leaned over in his saddle and murmured to me, "Well, this this certainly doesn't bode well." certainly doesn't bode well."

Master of understatement, Sir Umbrage was.

Nestor angled his horse toward me as we prepared for our ride back to Isteria and he said in a low tone, "Good luck." He didn't seem sarcastic in that respect; I think he genuinely felt bad for me. I couldn't blame him. I felt bad for me, too.

Demon sp.a.w.n.

That's what I saw when I looked into those eyes. Demon sp.a.w.n. A quiet look of cold contempt, as if we were bugs to her. Not for a moment did I doubt why this . . . this individual . . . had been sent to the Faith Women for tutelage. Her parents simply did not want to have to deal with her. It was a no-lose proposition for them. The longer she was away, the calmer their own lives were. And if the Faith Women managed to bring her under control, well, so much the better.

Apparently, considering the smoldering ruins of their home, the Faith Women had had a less-than-stellar success rate with her.

Sir Nestor offered to leave a couple of knights behind to aid with the organizing of a rebuilding, but the Faith Women seemed to want nothing more than for the lot of us to be on our way. Naturally we obliged them. I think, however, given the circ.u.mstances, we would have felt a little more sanguine about the entire affair if we hadn't caught sight of the Faith Women dancing a gambol of celebration upon Entipy's departure. Entipy, for her part, sat perfectly erect in the saddle, straight and tall. She looked as if she had been born in a saddle, that much I had to admit. She looked neither right nor left. Truth to tell, I wasn't certain if she knew or even cared that any of us were there.

This did not stop Sir Nestor from taking the time to guide me to her personally and say, "Highness . . . Apropos is squire to Sir Umbrage. He will be your personal escort and retainer for the duration of our trip home. If you have any needs or desires, request them of Apropos and he will shatter every bone in his body rather than disappoint you."

I glanced worriedly at Nestor, less than ecstatic about the characterization of my willingness to carry out my duties. He winked at me. That hardly mollified me. But rather than dwell on it, I simply bobbed my head in acknowledgment of her and said, "Highness."

She glanced at me, one flicker of her eyes seeming to take in not only my presence, but my very soul. The young woman chilled me. Then again, she was royalty, and what point is there to being royalty if you can't discomfort those below you.

The princess and I were situated in the middle of our escort, in order to provide maximum security. My initial thought was to say absolutely nothing to her as we began our ride. In retrospect, perhaps I should have maintained that strategy. I couldn't help but feel, though, that I should say something something to the silly girl. It was several days' journey, after all, and riding the entire way in silence seemed unnatural somehow. to the silly girl. It was several days' journey, after all, and riding the entire way in silence seemed unnatural somehow.

"We have good weather for the ride, Princess," I ventured after a time.

To my surprise, she laughed. It was neither a guffaw nor a t.i.tter, but simply a small chuckle. "Have I amused you somehow, Highness?" I asked.

She looked at me in an almost pitying manner. "Nearly an hour we ride, and you've had all that time to come up with a conversational gambit . . . and that was the best you could do?" She shook her head in pitying contempt.

"No," I replied sharply. "But I thought starting off with 'So, burned down many Holy Retreats, have you?' might be considered a bit off-putting."

There was a loud clearing of throat from Sir Umbrage, who apparently was riding just within earshot.

Entipy simply smiled at that. "Is that what you think I did?"

"I wouldn't presume to judge, Highness."

She looked me up and down appraisingly. "Don't lie to me," she said. "I've no stomach for it."

"Lie, Highness?"

She said nothing in reply to that, but merely focused her attention on the road ahead of us. I moved my mount a bit closer to hers and said in a pleasant tone, "I don't appreciate being called a liar, Highness . . . even by royalty."

"Then try not lying and you'll find it will happen less." She afforded me a glance. "I know people, squire. Know them at a glance. I know you. You judge. You look around at the world and judge it constantly. And that judgment is the same no matter what you are perceiving: Disdain. Me, these knights, everyone . . . you hold all in disdain."

"Why would that be the case, Highness?" I asked, fascinated.

"Because," she replied easily, "you reserve your greatest disdain for yourself, and everything else simply radiates from that."

Her words stung. That came as a surprise to me, because I had thought that there was nothing that could be said, and no one who could say it, that could possibly lance through the sh.e.l.l I had built around myself. Yet she had struck through with relative facility. I was not about to let that be evident in my response, of course. "My, my. How comforting it must be to be a princess and know everything."

"Not as comforting as it must be to be a squire and know nothing," replied the Princess Entipy.

My conversational endeavors having been summarily brushed aside, I lapsed into silence for a time, allowing the ride to pa.s.s in relative peace. Then Sir Umbrage caught my eye and he made a prompting gesture, clearly indicating that he wanted me to take another whack at social discourse. At that point the only whack I was interested in taking was at her head with a stout branch, but I did not think that would please the king and queen overmuch, nor aid in my standing or in that of Sir Umbrage.

"You ride quite well," I said finally.

She looked at me askance, with cool detachment. "You mean, 'for a girl.' "

"I tend to say what I mean. You ride well, male or female. None of this sidesaddle nonsense. Good posture, good frame . . . G.o.ds, girl, it was a compliment. Ascribe nothing more than its intent."

"I need no compliments from you."

"Fine."

At which point I resolved that I wasn't going to say a d.a.m.ned thing for the rest of the four-day ride, even if someone tried to pry my mouth open with a dagger.

The sun continued to crawl across the sky, and it was late in the afternoon when she abruptly said, "Thank you."

By that point we were not riding. Sir Nestor had brought us over to a nearby lake where the horses were being allowed to drink, and we were all stretching our legs. I was leaning against a tree, skipping stones across the lake and picturing Entipy's head squarely in the middle of the lake as my target, when I heard her "thank you" almost at my shoulder.

I turned to regard her. She was staring at me with that same impa.s.sive face, that same chilling look that reminded you there were probably demons gleefully playing tag somewhere in this creature's brain. "You're welcome." Then, almost as an afterthought, I added, "What for?"

"For the riding." She paused and then added, "I had a good teacher."

"Really. Set him on fire too, did you?" I tossed another rock.

"No. He's going to come and take me away. We're never going to reach the castle."

That was certainly sufficient p.r.o.nouncement to prompt me to hold up throwing the next stone. "Is that a fact?"

She nodded. "Yes. That's correct. He's likely trailing us through the forest right now. And once the moment presents itself, he's going to take me away and we're going to reside in the forest and make love like wild beasts, freshly fallen leaves serving as our bed as our naked bodies writhe in-"

I held up a hand and said, "I get the picture. Well, well, Princess . . . I had no idea you had such plans. And you are telling me this . . . why?"

"Because I find you annoying."

"I see."

When she spoke, it was in a curious little up-and-down voice, almost singsong like a small child. "And I want you to know what's going to happen ahead of time. So you can know it's going to happen, and still be unable to stop it, and know that my father will be ever so angry with you for letting it happen and you're still helpless to prevent it. He'll probably lop off your head."

"If it means not having to listen to your drivel any longer, I'd lop it off myself."

"Drivel? Is that how you speak to a princess?"

I had completely had it. I do not suffer fools gladly, even to this day, and back then my patience was not remotely approaching levels of maturity. "No, that's how I speak to a deluded, fire-starting loon. Where did you meet this savior, this hero of yours?"

"He came upon me while I was doing ch.o.r.es outside for the Faith Women. Ch.o.r.es. Ch.o.r.es." She repeated the word as if it were the name of a vile disease that had claimed all her loved ones and a bevy of cuddly animals besides. "I . . . a princess . . . ch.o.r.es. Can you imagine?"

"Happily," I said.

She ignored my response. Instead she draped her hands behind her back, clearly taken with the doubtlessly false memory. "He had no idea who I was. He fell in love with what he thought was a peasant girl. It was only recently that he learned who I truly was . . . and vowed to me that he would take me away with him and we would live happily ever after."