Dragonfly (16 page)

"No, I refuse that mission, Princess. See, you are still ordering me around like a ruler--it's in you, it's what you are meant to be, no matter what others are telling

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you. I've given my word that I'll only escape with you by my side. So forget about yourself for a moment: if you care anything about me, about the fate of my country and yours, you are coming with me or I don't go."

"But, Ram--"

"You've got my little horse stil ?"

She nodded.

"I believe that in the Islands it is understood that when you accepted it, you took responsibility for my soul. I'm holding you to that, Tashi."

"You've been talking to my little penitent for a long while, Prince Ramil,"

called Fergox, throwing a bone to the dogs. "What are you discussing?"

"Midwinter customs, my lord," replied Ramil, letting go of her hand.

"And is it the custom in Gerfal for a prince to sit with the dogs?" Fergox filled his plate with more meat.

"No, sir," replied Ramil, rising from the floor. "It is our custom to have songs, stories, and dancing."

"Dancing!" Junis shoved back her chair with a scrape. "There's an idea for a cold winter's evening. Come, little Prince, teach me some Gerfalian dances."

Without waiting for an answer, she hooked Ramil by the elbow and marched him into the center of the room, snapping her fingers at the minstrels. "Play!"

she barked, gripping Ramil in a bearlike hug.

Fergox chuckled and patted his knee. "Join me, Tashi. This will be most amusing. My sister has taken a liking to the Prince, poor lad. He'll soon wish they were back

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on the practice courts rather than on the dance floor-- she'll do him more damage here than there." Tashi did not move to obey the summons. Fergox frowned. "Come here or do I have to drag you?"

She got up and perched uneasily on his knee.

"See, nothing to be afraid of, is there?" Fergox murmured, putting his arm around her waist. "I'm just wishing you Midwinter cheer." He kissed her hand. "Now, you wish me Midwinter cheer back."

"Midwinter cheer, sir."

"A cold greeting if ever I heard one. Never mind; next year, when we're seeing in the New Year together on Rama, celebrating the dawn of an enlightened age of worship of the supreme God, there'll be plenty of opportunity for warmth. You'll like that, won't you, Tashi? Of course you would: every woman desires to be wife to the most powerful man in the world!" He didn't wait for--or seem to require--an answer, so certain of his own irresistible attractions. "Off you go, back to your cell." Fergox pushed her up and signalled to the guard to take her away. "I can't have you sitting here all night or my people will think you've been hard at your spells again.

My sister's already convinced you've bewitched me. Though it seems young Ramil has been the one charming her." He roared with laughter as the red-faced Ramil clumped by with Junis in his arms, attempting to teach her the steps of a dance. "Midwinter cheer, my little penitent!"

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Chapter
9

Ramil let Junis believe she had drunk him under the table. "Another one, sweetheart?" the old woman crowed as he slid from his chair pretending to pass out. She poked her brother in the ribs. "A good boy but can't hold his drink!"

Fergox saw that his sister had reached the rowdy stage of drunkenness. Any moment now she would be picking fights with everyone, including him, or singing scurrilous songs that would make the toughest soldier blush.

"Come along, Junis, I'll see you to your bed," he said, getting up unsteadily.

He only now realized how much wine he'd consumed. The boy had been very free with the jug.

"Can't I take him with me?" groaned the Inkar as she staggered to her feet.

"Leave him be. He'll not be happy tomorrow morning when he wakes. You can have him later if you still want him."

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The brother and sister swayed off together through the mass of snoring, sprawling bodies slumped on and under the tables.

When they had gone, Ramil picked himself up cautiously. He stank of the wine he had slopped down his front but was stone-cold sober. He knew he had just missed a fate worse than death. The thought of spending the night with Junis was enough to make him foreswear the company of women

forever.

He picked his way through the dregs of the festival to the big man sitting morosely by the fire.

"Gordoc, Midwinter cheer to you," Ramil murmured. He hoped he would find the strong man sober enough for the task he had in mind for him.

Gordoc raised his sad grey eyes to Ramil's face. The Prince felt a twinge of conscience: should he ask the man to help him when in all likelihood he would suffer for it?

"Prince, Midwinter cheer to you," Gordoc said in a very uncheerful voice.

There was no trace of drink about him. It appeared he had not been in the mood to participate in the festivities.

"Did you see the Princess?" Ramil probed gently.

"Aye, I saw her. They said they were going to look after her but she's hurting bad. I can tell." He tapped his chest. "She's hurting in there."

For a simple man, the giant had a very clear sight of people, thought Ramil.

"Yes, she's hurting--and it won't stop unless we get her out of here." Ramil paused. If Gordoc was going

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to give him away, this was the moment when he would call the guard.

Instead, he gripped Ramil's arm.

"You can do it? You can save the Princess?"

Ramil nodded. "I can do it, but I'll need your help." He glanced around the room. No one was watching. The guards were distracted, flirting with some girls in the entrance. He would not find a better moment. "Come with me now. I need you to break the Princess out of her cell and get us a horse.

Once that's done, I'll take her far, far away."

"You'll take her where she can be happy?" Gordoc rubbed his big hands through his wiry brown hair wearily.

"I hope so--I'll certainly try."

Coming to a decision, Gordoc stood up. "I don't understand about these wars and things. I'm a good Brigardian and they say you're my enemy, but you make more sense to me than my friends. Little girls should not be beaten by red-robed devils. They should be looked after--made to smile again. If you can do this, Prince Ramil, I will be in your debt."

Ramil tried to hush him. "Quiet now, we don't want the guards to hear us. Let me lean against you. Pretend you're helping me stagger out."

Gordoc did better than that. He slung the Prince over his shoulder and strode from the room. Ramil's guards looked up as they passed.

"Where're you going with him?" one asked, his arm around an attractive serving maid.

"Taking him to his bed on orders of the master," Gordoc replied.

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The guard waved him on, more interested in the charms of his female companion than the snores of a drunken boy.

Once outside, Gordoc stamped over the snow-covered courtyard to the temple doors.

Ramil thumped his back. "Put me down!"

Gordoc dropped him at the entrance to the temple. It was deadly quiet inside.

The smell of recent bloodshed hung in the air; a single light flickered on the altar throwing ghostly shadows on the icon of Holin.

"Who goes there?" challenged a guard.

Gordoc did not bother with a reply. He thumped the guard once on the head.

The man crumpled like an unset jelly turned from its mold. There was no going back now. They had attacked a guard and would have to go through with this.

"She's down here!" Ramil whispered, leading the way to the crypt.

He could hear Gordoc's breath coming in quick, angry bursts. "They put my pretty underground?" he asked outraged. "With no sun, no light? Buried her with the dead?"

Ramil thought it wise to stoke up the man's indignation. "And no blanket on these cold nights. Even Kosind the tiger has been treated better than the Princess."

They reached her cell door. The corridor was empty. Ramil tapped lightly.

"Tashi, it's time," he said.

They heard movements on the other side and a pale face appeared at the grate.

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"Ram? And Gordoc, is that you?"

"Yes, my pretty. Stand back."

Tashi fled to the other end of the cell, guessing what was about to happen.

Gordoc charged at the door and crashed into it with his shoulder. The door groaned, creaked, and on the third kick, burst open, the lock dangling from the splintered wood. Gordoc immediately entered and knelt before her.

"You're free. Run away now and be happy."

Tashi dropped to her knees and hugged him. Ramil realized he had never seen her willingly touch another person before--it was a huge gesture on her part.

"Gordoc, thank you. But you mustn't get into trouble. You must run too!"

She was right, thought Ramil, they couldn't leave the big man behind--he'd be identified by the guards and punished. That meant they would need at least two horses.

"Come, let's go," whispered Ramil. "Someone may have heard us."

The three fugitives ran down the corridor, through the silent temple and out into the courtyard. Gordoc held Tashi's hand, helping her up the stairs and then carrying her over the snowy ground so that her bare feet would not suffer. Ramil led them to the stables by a back way he had scouted through the servants' quarters, picking up his bundles from their hiding place as he did so.

"Right," he said in a low voice, pulling them into the

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shadows by the stable doors. "This is where it gets difficult." He peeked out.

Two guards stood on duty. They looked fed up but very sober, having had to miss the feast to do this task. "We've got to get past them."

"Difficult?" said Gordoc. "I think not."

Before Ramil could stop him, the big man had broken cover, making straight for the guards. They pointed their spears towards him.

"Midwinter cheer, my braves!" he bellowed, holding out his arms.

"Midwinter cheer," they replied uncertainly, glancing at each other.

"Bad luck to be on duty tonight," Gordoc called, sweeping them up in a brotherly embrace, an arm slung around each man's shoulders.

"Someone has to do it," said one, lowering his spear.

"Aye, we drew the short straw," added the other.

"That you did."

So swiftly that Ramil missed it, Gordoc clashed the two men's heads together. They ricocheted to the ground, out cold.

"Where do you want them, Prince?" Gordoc asked.

Ramil ran forward and pushed open the stable door. "In there," he said, pointing to an empty stall.

Gordoc picked up the two men and placed them carefully on the straw. He grinned at Ramil. "See, not so difficult."

Tashi crept into the stable and took Gordoc's hand again, seeming to find comfort in the giant's strength. Ramil quickly ran his eye over the horses on offer.

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"Well, I suppose we might as well go for the best." Stepping up to Fergox's blue roan, he held out a hand and caressed the horse's nose. "Will you carry two, my friend?"

The stallion snorted, liking the sound and smell of this human. Ramil quickly opened the loose-box door and placed Fergox's best saddle on him. It was no time to worry about deepening their offense by stealing a horse and tack.

"And now for you, big man," Ramil said. "I think there's only one mount here that will carry you." He saddled the Inkar's grey warhorse, trained to carry a warrior in armor. "I hope you can ride."

Gordoc nodded. "I rode as a lad--until I got too big."

"That will have to do. We'll lead the horses out by the postern gate. It's the least heavily guarded. Follow me." He beckoned to the other two.

They paused at the corner of the stable block before coming into view of the gate.

"How are we going to get past these guards?" Tashi asked, shivering in the cold. "More Midwinter cheer?"

Ramil shook his head. "There are always at least six on the gate--two for the portcullis, two inside, and two outside. I'm afraid that trick won't work again.

We need to get them together so no one has a chance to raise the alarm."

"How are we going to do that, Prince?" Gordoc asked in his not so very quiet whisper.

"I'm still thinking about it. To be honest, I'm surprised we've got this far."

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Tashi smiled to herself. That was more like the Ramil she knew: slapdash, rushing in unprepared. The efficiency of his rescue had been impressive, but out of character.

"I think I can flush them out of their hiding places," Tashi said softly, remembering the scared looks she had always attracted as "the Blue Crescent witch."

Ramil chewed his lower lip, calculating how many he and Gordoc could take out between them. He had a sword borrowed from the practice courts. The giant needed no weapons but his hands. They had to fight six men while protecting the Princess and two horses-- it was going to be tough. But he couldn't let her take the risk, even if she could do as she said. "No, it's too dangerous. Stay here," he ordered.

"Not as dangerous as being caught," she whispered.

Tashi slipped from Gordoc's side and stepped out into the open before Ramil could catch her. Raising her arms in front, she began running through the ritual of the fingerbowl in her own language. She kept her eyes fixed on the soldiers as she flicked imaginary water at them.

The men leapt to attention when they saw the black-robed figure drifting towards them.

"The witch!" one gasped. "How did she get out?"

Tashi moved on to the forty strokes of the silver brush, waving her hands from her hair and out to the soldiers.

A guard lowered his pike, jerking it in her direction as if she was a wild animal that he was trying to drive

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off. He was shaking in his boots. "She's spelling us! Get back, witch!" His companion panicked and thumped on the gate, summoning reinforcements.

The two guards from the portcullis rushed through the postern, weapons levelled at the pale girl who was now twisting and turning in the steps known as the Dance of the Dragonfly, a favorite game of children in the islands.