The Runaway Princess (17 page)

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Authors: Kate Coombs

BOOK: The Runaway Princess
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“Considering going into the business?”
“Maybe.”
The Bandit Queen smiled. “It helps to know how to use a sword. You look more like the embroidery type.”
“I do not!” Meg cried so loudly that everyone within sight of them turned to look.
The Bandit Queen's hand had gone to her dagger. “Don't you know it's dangerous to yell at a bandit?” the woman said, relaxing again.
“Sorry,” Meg said. “It's just that I want to learn to use a sword, and they won't let me.”
“Who's ‘they'?” the Bandit Queen asked too casually.
Meg was just as careful with her answer. “My father.”
“Your rich father?”
“Just my father.” Meg could tell the bandit was still trying to find out about the expensive compass spell. “I paid for the spell with dragon gold, all right? I took the gold when no one was watching.”
The Bandit Queen looked surprised. Then she smiled slowly. “It seems we have something in common: an interest in dragon's treasure.” She tucked the magic compass inside her shirt. “But you are less fortunate than I when it comes to your father. My father taught me swordplay, just as his father taught him. My grandfather was a knight, you see.”
“But a knight wouldn't—” Meg stopped herself.
“Wouldn't steal? This one did. Not all stories have happy endings, you know.”
“I suppose not. What happened?”
The Bandit Queen shook her head. “Stories are secrets. You must tell me another one first.” She seemed to be enjoying this.
Meg cheerfully swiped her friend's identity. “I'm one of the castle maids. My name is Dilly.” The bandit didn't seem very impressed. “I could tell you what the princess is like,” Meg offered.
“The princess? Do you know where she is?”
“No,” Meg said, resisting the urge to cross her fingers.
“Try again.”
Meg thought fast. “I could tell you about Prince Vantor. He's one of the princes here for the contest, but he's a liar and a cheat. He was stealing the dragon's treasure, but then—”
“I know all about that,” the bandit said smugly. “I stole the treasure from Vantor.”
“Ha!” Meg said, in spite of herself.
“Ha indeed. I see I shall have to take pity on you and tell you about my grandfather the knight. He was young and fearless, and he came questing to Greeve, hoping to win the heart of a fair princess.”
Meg tried not to make a face. This wasn't her favorite sort of story. “Really?”
“Really. He faced the dreadful dragon of Greeve, with its vast blue scales and its forty-foot flames, but he was too late.” The Bandit Queen lowered her voice dramatically on the last few words.
“Why is that?” Meg asked.
“The dragon ate the fair princess before my grandfather could save her.”
“Ugh,” Meg said. This story was undoubtedly about her great-aunt.
“Ugh indeed. My grandfather was heartbroken, and, as often happens in these cases, he turned to a life of crime.” The bandit didn't seem at all sorry about that development.
Meg thought of something else. “Doesn't it bother you that people call you Bold Rodolfo and not—Bold Whatever?”
“Bold Alya?”
Meg repeated the name. “Bold Alya.”
The Bandit Queen—Alya—frowned. “The people of Greeve find it easier to imagine a man leading my people.” She shrugged. “It allows me a certain amount of freedom.” Alya picked up the lantern and got to her feet. “So, Dilly, now that you have seen a little of our lives, eaten our food, and heard our stories, do you still long to be a bandit?”
Meg stood, too. “I want to be the Bandit Queen.”
Alya stepped back in mock alarm. “A pretender to my throne!” She touched the rock she'd been sitting on with her foot. “Such a fine throne, encrusted with diamonds and pearls.”
Meg half curtsied. “I have a throne as well,” she said, indicating her own rock.
“Perhaps when I retire,” Alya said. “Which I believe will happen shortly, thanks to an arrogant prince and a certain dragon.”
“Retire?” That sounded boring to Meg. “What would you do?”
Alya looked wistful for a moment. “I'd buy land to the south, maybe even on the Isle of Skape. It's very beautiful there.”
“And—bandit some more? Just a little?”
“No. Fish, maybe, except that the smell might be too
much, day after day. I could keep bees. Honey's nice. I suppose I'll think of something.” The Bandit Queen turned brisk. “Now. I've decided we can work out a payment plan for your silvery friend here. But I'm curious to know how you intend to turn him back.”
“I have a counterspell,” Meg admitted.
Alya scowled. “My men should have found it when they caught you.”
“In a hidden pocket,” Meg said placatingly.
“Ah.” Alya grinned. “You'd make a very good bandit, young Dilly.” Then she lifted her head. “Something's wrong.”
Meg listened, but she couldn't hear anything. “What is it?”
Alya drew her dagger and ran across the camp without answering, but she was too late. Men were already pouring down the hillside, yelling hoarsely.
Meg panicked. She raced away from the attackers, but then she heard a woman shriek behind her as if she had been struck by a sword or an arrow. Meg looked back, afraid it was Alya. In the dim light, all she could see was a light-haired bandit struggling with a large man. The big man looked like Bear.
Meg ran again, trying to escape the yelling and fighting. She had nearly reached the trees when another man stepped into her path. “Oh no you don't,” he said.
Meg tried ducking around him, but the man menaced her with his sword and she faltered. He grabbed her arm and marched her to the center of the camp, where a
number of bandits were huddled together, guarded by several men. In the firelight, Meg could see that their captors' gray tunics were trimmed with blue and gold—Vantor's colors. Children blinked, wide-eyed, clinging to their mothers' skirts. A baby cried on and on.
Vantor's guards built up the fire again, laughing and talking.
Meg kept her head down, hoping for the best, but a hand grabbed her shoulder and spun her around. “You!” Beaknose squawked.
 
Nort's second royal visitor came well after midnight. “Wake up, young man,” a voice said. Nort sat up. The queen was gazing through the bars at him, with Dilly standing beside her.
“Dilly?” Nort asked. He scrambled to his feet and stepped to the front of the cell.
“I understand you've been gallivanting around with my daughter,” Queen Istilda said.
Nort looked at Dilly. Dilly nodded slightly.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” he stammered.
“Where is she now?”
“She—she was going out to the moors to rescue Cam. On a horse.”
“And she hasn't returned.”
Nort shook his head. “I don't think so. I was on my way to find her when—”
“When you met up with Hanak,” the queen said.
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“And your quest was interrupted,” Meg's mother said, watching him closely.
“That's right.”
The queen grasped the bars. “Young man, I believe you should be free to continue your efforts. With Dilly's help.”
“Yes indeed, Your Majesty!” Nort said. He touched his chin. No beard yet, he thought as the queen produced a ring of keys and opened the door of his cell. He wouldn't need a ballad after all.
“WHO IS SHE?” THE FIRST MAN ASKED.
“A horse thief and a witch,” Beaknose crowed. “Vantor will want this one.”
The nearest bandits looked at Meg, surprised. Beaknose made Meg sit with the other prisoners, but he stayed nearby. Meg noticed his nose was still swollen.
The fighting died down quickly. Meg soon saw the reason as Vantor hauled the Bandit Queen into the firelight. She was bruised and limping, and there was a terrible gash across her face. “Where's the gold?” he demanded.
The woman said nothing. Her eyes flickered across the prisoners.
“Where's my treasure?” Vantor shouted.
Still the woman refused to speak.
“Search the camp,” Vantor told the men nearest him.
“Your Highness, look what we found,” Beaknose called, pulling Meg into the light.
Vantor dumped the Bandit Queen on the ground and stepped forward to look at Meg. He smiled slowly. Then he turned to address his men. “We have the witch!”
The Bandit Queen stared at Meg. “
She's
the witch?” At her tone, the bandits snickered, and Vantor's men peered at Meg uncertainly.
“Don't try to fool me,” Vantor told the Bandit Queen. “We know you're in league with the crone.” He reached out to slap Meg. “Who has disguised herself as a young girl! Show your true face, evil one!”
“You're
evil,” Meg told him.
But Vantor had turned away, raising his voice. “We have the witch! We have the bandits! We'll soon get the dragon's bones back, and then—we'll have half a kingdom!”
The men yelled.
“But not,” the Bandit Queen put in, “without the missing princess.”
Did it count if he had found her and didn't know it? Meg wondered.
The tall prince glared at the bandit leader. “I'll find the lost princess as easily as I found you.”
Just then Vantor's men parted to make way for Bear, who came into view carrying the dragon bones on his large shoulder.
“And the gold?” Vantor asked sharply.
Bear shook his head. “Nothing.”
“They've hidden it. I'll take our prisoners to the king
of Greeve. Except for the children. They stay here as hostages.” Vantor gave the Bandit Queen a triumphant look. “Don't bother feeding them,” he added.
Vantor's men began separating the children from the other prisoners. Meg's heart lurched as the smallest ones cried. If she were queen of Greeve—
Meg looked around, surprised by her own thoughts. How
would
she help these people? She couldn't imagine throwing them in the dungeons.
“Wait,” the Bandit Queen said.
Vantor lifted a hand, and all movement stopped.
“I'll tell you where the gold is on one condition.”
“What's that?”
“Let the others go. Keep me.”
“That'll hardly please the king,” Vantor scoffed.
“Then keep me along with my most senior men. Let the young ones go.”
Vantor pursed his lips, obviously pleased by this turn of events. “All right. As soon as we have the gold, everyone under”—he looked around at the bandits—“thirteen may go free.”
“And the mothers of young children,” the Bandit Queen prompted.
“Agreed,” Vantor said. “Where is the treasure?”
“Give me your word.”
“On my oath as Prince Vantor of Rogast, I swear it.”
“I'll show you,” said the bandits' leader, standing with battered dignity.
 
 
Dorn and Dagle were wakened from a sound sleep on their beds of rock and dirt by the bellows of the frightened cow, tethered just beyond reach of the firelight. The princes sprang up, snatching at their swords.
“Who's there?” Dorn called.
A growl answered them.
“Wolves,” Dagle cried. “They're after our cow!”
Dorn and Dagle flung themselves into the darkness, swords swinging. A wolf leaped at Dorn, but he caught it with the edge of his blade. It fell back. Another launched its body at Dagle, and he fended it off. The rest of the pack closed in on the cow, which was calling helplessly.
Dorn and Dagle quickly fought their way to the sides of the terrified animal and began a spirited defense. Half a dozen wolves had fallen before the others gave up and slunk away into the night.
“Are you all right?” Dagle asked the cow, panting.
“Bring her over by the fire,” Dorn said. “In case they come back.”
“I'll take the first watch,” Dagle told his brother.
 
Queen Istilda managed to get horses for Dilly and Nort. One horse, actually, since it turned out Dilly didn't know how to ride. Now she sat behind Nort, holding a lantern as they rode east arguing. It started when Nort asked if Prince Bain had returned to the castle.
“Yes.”
Nort stopped the horse. “Then how are we going to find her?”
“She took the road east, right?”
Nort nodded.
“Well, something must have gone wrong. That crazy horse threw her, or she lost her way.”
“With the compass?”
“Or she lost the compass, or she ran into the bandits, or she got sick.”
“Or Prince Bain caught her,” Nort said, twitching the horse's reins.
“In which case, we'll rescue her.”
“But what if he—”
“He's not the type,” Dilly announced firmly. “I can see him taking her shoes away and making her walk clear to Crown. That'd be his idea of a good joke.”
“I hope you're right.” Nort urged the horse forward again. “I still don't understand why you had to tell the queen anything.”
“Because,” Dilly snapped, “she promised she would leave us alone as long as nothing went wrong. And now something has.”
Nort didn't bother to answer.
“You would still be in the dungeons if I hadn't told,” Dilly told him.
“I hadn't noticed,” Nort said meanly.
They rode on in an irritable silence for nearly half an hour before Nort stopped. “This is stupid, Dilly. She could be anywhere.”
“We have to try,” Dilly pointed out.
“I've got an idea.”
“What?”
“Magic,” Nort told her.
“We don't have any magic.”
“But the wizard does.”
“What can he do?”
“He made the spell for finding Cam. Now he can prove it worked.”
“You did say he liked Meg,” Dilly said.
Nort slid off the horse. “I think he'll help.”
“What about me?”
“You can go to that farm and ask the witch. One way or another—”
“We're going to find Meg,” Dilly concluded.
Nort convinced Dilly to take the horse, since she had farther to go. “Just hold the reins. Like that. He's a calm sort. You'll be all right.” Nort turned about to retrace his steps, trying not to think about dungeons.
“Good luck!” Dilly called after him.
It was still night when Nort reached Crown. He soon discovered he didn't know where to find Lex. Nort wandered dozens of streets, searching for the wizard's house, but there was no sign of it. Nort finally admitted that it was too dark for him to recognize the place even if he passed right by it. He sank down in the nearest doorway to wait for morning.
 
Vantor and a group of his men left the camp with the Bandit Queen. The rest of the prisoners waited sullenly.
Meg thought she saw her scarf flit by at one point,
but maybe it was just a bat, and whatever it was, it didn't stay.
After a long while, Vantor came back with the queen. His men carried eleven great chests.
“Well?” the Bandit Queen said. “I kept my part of the bargain.”
“So you did,” Vantor said. He pointed to six of his men. “You'll guard my gold till we have time to move it. The rest of you—get these wretches moving.”
“All of them, Your Highness?” Beaknose asked.
“All of them.”
“The word of a prince means nothing!” Alya cried.
“It's my turn to laugh,” Vantor said. He took his sword and lifted it near her face, only to cut off one of her black curls. “You won't need this after the king takes your pretty head.”
She spat at him, but Vantor stepped back, smiling. “If you're lucky, maybe all he'll do to the brats is lock them up in the dungeons for the rest of their lives.”
 
Dilly clopped along between the trees in the dim light of early dawn. Really, riding a horse wasn't so bad once you got used to it.
She heard the procession moving toward her long before it reached her.
Dilly hesitated for an instant, then made the horse leave the road. Behind a screen of trees, she climbed down and stood silently, holding the horse's bridle still.
Soon Prince Vantor came into view, riding yet another large steed. Behind him marched ranks of guards surrounding a ragged bunch of prisoners.
At the head of the group of captives was a black-haired woman—and Meg.
Dilly gasped. No one heard her above the tramping of so many feet.
Dilly stood watching as they all passed by. Even small children, their hands bound like the grownups'. “That Vantor,” Dilly whispered, angry.
There was no point in going to the farm now. But how could she help Meg? Dilly supposed Meg might be able to talk her way out of this one, but not without a witness or two. What's more, the queen should know what was happening.
Dilly congratulated herself on having chosen the north side of the road. She led the horse deeper into the trees. If she cut through the woods, she should be able to beat Vantor to the castle.
 
Vantor's procession had walked a long while when Meg murmured to the Bandit Queen, “Do you still have it?”
Alya raised one bruised eyebrow wryly. “Yes.”
The counterspell was in Meg's pocket, and her hands were still tied, but at least she knew Cam was close by.
“Are you the witch?” the Bandit Queen breathed.
The closest guard shoved her. “Shut up.”
Meg waited a moment before shaking her head.
“He won't like being made a fool of,” Alya said softly.
At another look from the guard, they trudged on without speaking.
They were nearly to the castle when Meg's scarf caught up with them. One moment Meg's neck was bare; the next it was adorned with her wandering friend. The Bandit Queen looked over inquiringly, but said nothing.
Meg tried to whisper a few suggestions to the scarf, hoping it would free her, but the thing seemed unconvinced her situation was dire. It simply lolled across her shoulders as she tramped up the hill to her home.
The tower was still invisible, she noticed in the pink light of dawn.
 
Nort must have dozed off, because the next thing he knew he was being roundly cursed and thrown into the street by the owner of the front steps he'd been sitting on. Nort stumbled away, rubbing his eyes. The sun was shining, and he knew he had been right to wait. All of the buildings looked different in the morning light.
The wizard's house was in the southwest quadrant of the city, Nort decided. He forced himself to go all the way to the southern wall of Crown and begin a systematic sweep of every street lined with private homes rather than shops.
His stomach soon demanded breakfast. Fortunately, the queen had given him a small bag of coins. Nort bought a paper-wrapped omelette from a street vendor, reviving himself considerably.
He must have been down twelve streets when he passed a row of wealthy-looking homes and saw something very strange. One of the houses appeared to have vanished. Nort could see the deep hole where its cellar must have lain, the private flower garden behind it, and the trim gate leading up to it. But the house itself was gone.
Three men in servants' livery stood stiffly in front of the house, guarding its absence. Nort found himself picturing Meg dropping a little bottle into Dock's hand. Flushing with guilt, Nort hurried on.
He came across four more invisible homes in his wanderings. He was standing in front of the fourth when he heard a voice behind his shoulder. “Sad, in'it?”

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