One Good Knight (24 page)

The fox didn't require a second invitation. He was out the doorway and into the darkness in no time.

“However, I, at least, am not inclined to fly off and
leave the rest of you to deal with this situation. You, young ladies, are our friends. And now it all fits into place,” Peri continued. “Why the dragon, why the maidens.” He turned his gaze on
her.
“Because, Princess, both Solon and your mother needed a way to be rid of you.”

She felt her blood running cold. “But…why?” Solon she could understand, but her mother? Her own mother?

And yet she couldn't deny the logic of the argument. Her mother would have had to agree to having her name drawn out by lot—because if Solon was as good a Magician as the fox claimed, he could certainly ensure that the name drawn was the name he
wanted
drawn.

But her mother? “Why my mother?” she managed to get out.

“That,” Peri admitted, “I cannot reason out. Though, I am certain that she has a very good reason for it. And Solon's reason should be obvious.”

She nodded. “Until I am dead he can't sit on the throne.”

“So he brings a dragon to take care of getting rid of you in a public manner that leaves no blame or accusation for him to face,” Peri said. “It would be difficult for anyone who is not aware he is a Mage to attach any blame to him. It is possibly useful to him to have a dragon to manipulate others, as well. Are there any enemies of his who have ceased complaining since the dragon began taking sacrifices?” Peri asked.

She thought. “As many as a half-dozen, I think.”

“All of whom have daughters that might be next if they do not support him.” Periapt gazed wisely at her. “Although no one could know for certain that he had any power over the lottery, would anyone dare take the chance that he did? I would imagine he has already made an example of one such family.”

“That would be mine,” Cleo said angrily. Her eyes flashed and she stood in a way that made Andie think it would be a very bad idea to cross her.

“And there you have it. Our key in a nutshell. A way to hold power over his enemies in the Court, a way to be rid of the Princess—and all without anyone realizing who was behind it all. It really is a brilliant plan, if you happen to be an amoral, evil beast.”

Peri turned his gaze back on Andie. “Meanwhile the Queen also has you eliminated, for reasons of her own.”

She nodded numbly. All this made too much sense. Far too much. And she didn't want to think about it. Her own mother wanting her dead— It made her want to retch and cry at the same time. She felt sick. She felt angry. She felt—abandoned, actually. Betrayed.

“And of course,” Periapt continued, “he had to make sure that no Champion could cross the Border and ruin his plans.”

“I suppose he must not have thought there might be such a thing as a female Champion,” rumbled Adamant.

“No wonder my job didn't seem finished,” muttered Gina.

And suddenly they were all left standing there, staring at one other, in the now-uncomfortable semi-darkness. And probably wondering what they could possibly say to one another now.

“We'll sleep on it,” Peri said finally. “There is absolutely no point in trying to make further plans now, except—”

All of them turned at the sound of claws clicking on stone. A moment later, the fox appeared in the doorway, carrying the plate-size scale carefully in his teeth.

“—except to destroy that,” Peri finished.

“How?” Gina asked doubtfully. “I have always been under the impression that dragon scales were nearly indestructible.”

“Vinegar,” Peri said serenely, and turned to Thalia. “Can you fetch the big jug of wine that went off, please?”

“You mean we've finally got a use for that wretched stuff?” Thalia exclaimed. “Oh, grand!” She edged past the prone body of Adam, who twitched
his tail out of the way for her, and headed for the room that served as their pantry.

“It is pretty wretched,” Cleo agreed. “Even as vinegar. But I'm not sure—how is vinegar going to work to destroy the scale?”

“It won't destroy it, exactly,” Peri said, as Thalia returned with a large, and seemingly heavy jug that sloshed. “You see, what happens is this—the vinegar dissolves something. It's the same thing that makes both bones and our scales hard. Once whatever-it-is is dissolved, then the scale will be like a big piece of wet leather. Except that when it dries again, it will be brittle and can be pounded into powder.”

Gina found a stone basin that had probably once been a bird-bath or something of the sort—for a fortress, this place had once boasted a number of civilized amenities, and it was clear that this courtyard had been nothing more than a pleasant place to sit and relax. The basin was big enough to hold the scale, which Thalia took from the fox and dropped in, pouring the musty-smelling vinegar over the top until the scale was entirely immersed.

Andie wrinkled her nose. She liked the sharp taste of vinegar on things herself, but this stuff was nasty. It must have been inferior wine to begin with, and it certainly had not turned into good vinegar. She found it far more comfortable to focus on trivialities like this than on—

On the idea that her mother wanted her dead.

Every time she thought about it, it made her feel horrible.

But it might not be true. It might be a mistake. It might be that Solon had worked some sort of magic on Cassiopeia to make her acquiesce to this. Surely that had to be it. Surely her mother, her own mother, could not have wanted her dead.

Gina quickly found a slab of stone to put over the top of the basin to seal in the fumes.

Another triviality: vinegar made dragon scales fragile. And Peri had just essentially revealed that to all of them. Someday that might prove to have been a mistake. People talked. “Isn't it dangerous for you to let this secret—oh—” Andie said, and blushed, realizing in the next moment what a silly question that was.

“Yes,” Peri said, his mouth gaping in a grin. “I hardly think that we are in any danger whatsoever of some dragon-hunter steeping us in bowls of vinegar to soften our scales. It will take at least one full day for that scale to become soft, perhaps more.”

“Not exactly a weapon, then,” said Andie, blushing again.

“Not exactly.” Peri stood up and stretched, extending his wings up into the night sky. “I am for sleep. Sleep will likely bring us many more ideas of what we can do about this situation.” He swiveled his head on his long neck to look at each of them in turn. “Rest assured, even if the spell on Adam is broken, I do not intend to leave until we
have it all sorted and you young ladies can go home again.”

Maybe sleep would give her a reason why it couldn't possibly be Cassiopeia who was involved in this. Why it had to be all Solon's idea.

“Even if he would, I wouldn't let him,” Adam said, doing the same. “It may not be our fault that you're here, but we're mixed into it now, and it's our responsibility to get things put right.”

And with that astonishing statement they both turned and took the couple of steps needed to bring them to the far wall of the courtyard. The two dragons did not, as she half expected them to, fly out of the courtyard. Instead, they climbed out, in a most leisurely manner, and settled themselves, one on either side of the entrance to the main section of the fortress. As they lay down and became still, they looked like gigantic stone sculptures. The maidens gathered up their mantles and the cushions that one or two of them had brought to sit on, and made their way toward that entrance. Thalia stayed behind, taking down the torches and plunging them into a bucket of sand to extinguish them.

“Come on,” Amaranth said, gesturing to the two of them. “We've already taken your things to a room. I'll show you.”

As each of the girls reached the doorway, she stopped long enough to take a taper from a pile on a ledge just inside and light it at the torch in the sconce outside.

It was like walking into a cave. Unlike the open, airy Palace, this place was very closed in, with thick walls and relatively narrow passages. Made to be held in a siege, with corridors that a single determined man could defend, or so Andie reckoned. It made her feel a bit confined, but on the other hand, the solid construction had enabled the building to withstand weather and time. So she supposed she needed to be grateful for that much.

Tiny rooms opened up onto the corridor, rooms that would have been like monastic cells if each of the girls hadn't made hers comfortable in her own way and according to her own taste. As she passed, Andie got glimpses of a riot of draped fabrics like a gypsy tent in one, a tapestry loom in another, painted murals of garden scenes in a third. Finally Amaranth brought them to a pair of wide doorways opposite each other, at the point where the corridor ended in a blank wall.

“These are yours,” she said, gesturing. “I put the Champion's things in the right, and the Princess's in the left.” She turned and went back down the corridor, disappearing into her own open door.

Gina and Andie exchanged a glance, and Gina shrugged.

“It seems we've found a home for a while,” Gina said. “And it's certainly more weather-tight than a tent in the woods. Considering how things could have turned out, this is a good situation.”

A good situation…though one where she had
learned some things she really wished she had not. But Gina was right. Things could have been much worse. The Wyrding Folk could have been protecting the dragons.

—well, actually they are.

The dragons could have been evil, or in the thrall of an evil Magician.

—actually, that's true, too.

Still…

Andie found herself surprised by a yawn. “Well,” she said finally. “Good night.”

There didn't seem much else to say.

My mother's Chief Adviser wants the throne and plotted to kill me. My mother is either a party to this or under his spell. I'm out in the howling wilderness unable to leave the company of the dragons that were going to eat me. Let's see. Have I left anything out?

But Gina actually cracked a smile. “We've come out of this very well so far,” she pointed out. “Think about it. We didn't actually need to fight the dragons. We've come a long way to understanding just what mischief is going on here in your Kingdom. Now that we know, we can see what we can do about it. That's plenty for one night, I think.”

And with that, she turned and went into her little room. It seemed that although doors had long since rotted and fallen away, someone had taken the trouble to fix a fall of canvas as a curtain on the inside, for shortly after Gina entered, a thick piece of cloth fell across the doorway, giving her privacy of a sort.

Andie turned in to her own room. As she pulled canvas across her own door and turned to see what awaited her, the candle revealed more than she would have thought. She hadn't expected a real bed or furniture, so she wasn't disappointed. But she was pleased, even delighted, to see a fat mattress, presumably stuffed with some kind of plant material, on the floor, her bedroll waiting atop it. There was also a pile of flat cushions next to the bed, and beside them, a stack of simple tunics and dresses like those the others wore.

There was a stone shelf built into the wall; she dripped a little candle wax on it and stuck her taper into it in lieu of a sconce. The more she looked at that bed, the more she wanted to be in it, sleeping. Anything else could wait.

Including, or perhaps especially, troubling thoughts about the Queen.

With the pallet unrolled on the bed, and one of the flat cushions to serve as a pillow, she blew out the candle, got into the bed by feel, and despite all the questions she was trying not to think about, fell deeply and soundly asleep.

 

Morning brought no real light into the rooms. Andie only woke because she heard voices and the sound of footsteps in the corridor. When she started to get up, however, her arms hurt so much that she lay back down with a groan.

Which immediately brought a response. Someone
shoved the curtain aside and poked her head in the room. “Are you ill?” asked someone that she could not immediately identify.

“My arms hurt,” she said, feeling as if she ought to be apologizing. “All that water-carrying yesterday…”

“Ah.” The head vanished, then returned. “Stay in bed and sleep a bit longer. We forgot you wouldn't be used to that sort of work. We'll sort out something for you to do that doesn't involve hauling heavy things about. At least until you get accustomed to doing things that involve a lot of labor.”

“I—” she began, but the head was gone again. She had been going to say that she wanted to do her share of the work, but evidently that was a given here.

Well, that wasn't so bad…she'd been taking care of herself all through the journey so far. This was just an extension of the chores she had already been undertaking for herself.

Then again, she had never exactly been the sort of Princess that the Queen would have preferred, what with climbing trees and taking meals to Guards and all.
Enough that your mother doesn't think of you as her daughter? Enough that your mother would be glad to be rid of such an embarrassment?

She pushed the horrid thoughts away and concentrated on seeking the position in which her arms hurt the least.

Once she got her sore arms arranged in a configuration where they actually didn't hurt she found herself drifting back off to sleep. And it was good not to
be waking up before the sun even crested the horizon in order to get on the road as quickly as possible.

Some unknown time later, more footsteps awoke her and she bit back another groan as someone else poked her head into the room.

“Can you wash dishes?” It was Cleo's voice.

Can I wash dishes? Does she mean, “Do you know how?” or “Are you able to?”
Well, in both cases she could. “Yes,” she replied, grateful to be able to say yes to something. It was galling to know that she must appear to be a total burden, and incompetent to these other girls.

Granted, there were others who had also had servants and had never needed to do work themselves. But they had been here a while, and by now probably were as good or better at ordinary tasks as the girls who'd been taking care of themselves and their families all their lives.

“I mean
now
—are your arms too sore to wash dishes today?” Cleo persisted. “I do need to know this right now.”

“No,” she answered honestly. “This is nothing more than strain, and strain gets better if you warm your limbs up. If I just get up and get moving this will ease off—”

“Yes, but it's hardly fair to ask you to do work you aren't physically ready to do,” Cleo said, with a reasonableness that she actually hadn't expected from the girl. “So we all decided there won't be any wood-cutting or water-carrying for you for a while. But if
you're up to washing dishes as your regular chore—then that will be fine. It will be better than fine with me—it's mine, and I hate it. If you'll take that, I can take weeding the garden, which is not my favorite but it's better than washing dishes.”

Her mother would have a fainting spell if she could hear her daughter planning to wash dishes like a servant.

Her mother…

She shoved the thought away.

“You need to get up now, though,” Cleo was saying. “Or you won't get any breakfast.”

“Then I'll gladly take your place,” Andie replied. “I do know how to wash dishes and I can do that after breakfast. And I'm getting up now, right this minute.”

She rolled out of the bed with some little difficulty, caused at least in part by trying to save her arms as much as possible. She didn't ever remember anything ever hurting this much. But she did remember what it was like when she'd first started taking dance lessons and using muscles that had never gotten that kind of exercise before. And she remembered very well what she'd had to do then.

Move them.

Once she got out of bed she slowly worked and stretched her arms until the stiffness was gone and they didn't actually scream at her when she moved them. She changed into a loose sleeveless gown with a sleeved tunic over it, and went out to join the rest of the world.

The rest of the world was finishing a simple breakfast of flatbread, honey and yogurt. Gina greeted her by finishing the last bite of her own food, grabbing her wrist and slathering both Andie's arms with liniment from a stoppered jar she'd had at her side. It smelled of sharp herbs, but wasn't unpleasant, and Andie felt it start to go to work almost immediately, warming and loosening the muscles further, easing the aches.

“What's good for the outside of a horse is usually good for the outside of a man,” Gina said with a grin. “Or a woman. I'd been saving this stuff because Godmother Elena makes it and puts magic into it, but I figured you'd earned a dose this morning.”

“Thanks,” Andie said gratefully. She decided at that moment that she wanted Gina for a friend…if Gina wasn't already a friend.