Too Many Princes (18 page)

DIVIDED ROADS

All the way to the north tower Therula told herself she was being an idiot, but she couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. She nodded, acknowledging the guardsman who swung the heavy oaken door open before her. As soon as her feet touched the ancient stone steps, she lifted her skirts and ran upward.

Part of the problem was her father. The king seemed distracted in court. Granted, he had once told Therula it was only the pleasant haze of wine that made the long-winded presentations bearable. Yet he didn't seem sleepy to her. Instead, he was edgy and alert. He had been for several days. When Therula attempted to raise the subject, Unferth merely shook his head, silencing her.

There wasn't much in the realm of public policy that Unferth didn't share with Therula. Nor of private matters, either. His silence now suggested this might have something to do with Oskar. Since Unferth had declared an end to his pursuit of younger women years ago, Therula couldn't think what else it might be.

In an interesting coincidence, Oskar was also behaving oddly. Ordinarily, he liked to make himself visible at court, but Therula hadn't seen him for several days. Not since the morning of Brastigan and Lottres's departure, in fact. When he did appear, his merriment seemed slightly forced.

Just because the king wasn't talking didn't mean Therula couldn't ask Oskar about it. They had never been close—Oskar was nearly twice her age—but Therula didn't think he would lie to her. Still, it seemed more suitable to consult her mother. Alustra would know what was happening, especially if Oskar was involved. It wouldn't have been the first time Therula acted as peace-bearer between her two parents.

Even so, Therula knew, it wasn't her family's maneuvering that troubled her. It just seemed that something was wrong, somehow. As if the sea air suddenly smelled of dust. With the utter paranoia of true love, Therula was sure it all had something to do with Pikarus.

Pikarus. He had only been gone a few days, but Therula missed him so much she sometimes felt she could hardly breathe. That was what finally drove her to Eben's door. She could wait for whatever news her father might have, if she only knew her beloved was safe.

The lowest level of the tower, where she had entered, held Eben's sitting room, where he gave formal consultations. With supper just over, Therula didn't expect to find him there. She climbed to the second level and Eben's personal chambers. By the time she reached the door, her legs ached and she really was fighting for breath.

Therula stopped on the landing to compose herself. When her heart had stopped hammering against her lungs, she adopted an expression of regal calm and raised her hand. The plain wooden door swung open before she even touched it.

“
Oskar,
”
she said, surprised.
“
I didn't expect to see you here.
”

Her older brother wore a tense expression, which he quickly turned into a genial smile.

“
I was just leaving,
”
Oskar said.
“
You are free to drink from the fountain of wisdom.
”
He took Therula's shoulders, kissed her cheek lightly, and then swung her around as if they were dancing on a feast night.

“
Warn me, brother,
”
Therula protested. Dizzy, she leaned on the inner wall. Oskar merely chuckled and was off down the stairs. Therula watched him for a moment, wondering at his sarcastic tone.

When she turned to enter Eben's chamber, her dizziness suddenly returned. Therula's knees wobbled, and she clutched at the door handle to keep from falling into Eben's chamber. As she caught her balance, she had the confused impression of a stranger inside. His features were distorted, and he was crowned with something like tree branches. Candles, burning behind him, made Therula blink and shield her eyes.

Then it was only Eben, in his plain blue robe, hurrying forward to steady her.

“
Your highness, are you well?
”
Eben asked.

“
Oh, that Oskar,
”
Therula managed to laugh although her heart was beating hard.
“
He put me off balance.
”

“
Then do come in, your highness,
”
Eben said.
“
Tell me what I can do for you.
”

“
I...
”
Therula found herself tongue-tied. For a moment, she couldn't remember why she had come here. Oskar's prank must have startled her more than she knew.

Eben guided Therula forward with a gentle hand on her elbow. He showed her to a seat and offered a cup, which steamed invitingly. Then he waited, all patience and consideration.

Therula sipped at the cup, and tasted spearmint tea.
“
My favorite,
”
she murmured. Somehow it seemed she had forgotten that, too.

Eben's smile widened, and he said,
“
You are always welcome to drink my tea.
”

Therula drank again, savoring the warmth of the tea and Eben's presence. She remembered now why she had come to see him. He was so wise, so kind. She felt she could tell him anything.

“
I came to ask about Pikarus,
”
Therula said.

“
Pikarus?
”
Eben repeated.

“
Yes.
”
She hesitated, then asked,
“
Were you aware of our feelings for each other?
”

“
No,
”
Eben admitted.
“
Your father hadn't mentioned it.
”

“
Well, it's true,
”
Therula said.
“
Since Pikarus left, I've felt... I don't know, that something is wrong. I can't help worrying. Can you tell me if he is all right?
”

“
I can try, certainly,
”
Eben said. Then he cautioned,
“
It may take me some time. Perhaps a few hours, or even a day or two. Shall I send a message when I have the information?
”

“
Of course.
”
Therula sipped her tea again, trying to hide her disappointment. Days? She had never asked Eben for anything before, but she had been hoping for more immediate results.

“
Tell me, before you go,
”
Eben went on.
“
What do you mean that something is wrong?
”

“
Oh, it may be nothing,
”
Therula said.
“
I feel something is out of place. You know how it is, when the staff cleans your room and they don't put things back right where they were?
”

Eben nodded, cupping his chin in his hand thoughtfully.
“
When did you first notice this?
”

“
After they left,
”
Therula said.
“
Pikarus went with Brastigan and Lottres to Hawkwing house. You knew that?
”

Eben's eyes narrowed, glinted thoughtfully. Then he said,
“
Perhaps that is what is out of place, as you put it. Simply that you are accustomed to seeing Pikarus and now he is absent.
”

“
No,
”
Therula said. She shook her head impatiently.
“
I know something is happening. Father seems distracted to me. So is Oskar.
”
Therula looked toward the doorway for a moment, remembering how Oskar had swung her around. She asked,
“
Have either of them mentioned anything to you?
”

“
If they had, I couldn't break confidence,
”
Eben said gravely.
“
You understand.
”

“
Yes, of course,
”
Therula murmured, feeling rebellious in her heart.

“
I think,
”
Eben went on gently,
“
the heart of the matter is that you miss your dear friend. There is no shame in this. At such times, it is easy for imagination to run wild.
”
Eben pressed Therula's hands gently. He took the empty cup and drew her toward the door.
“
Let me see what I can learn, princess. I will send word as soon as I know anything of his whereabouts.
”

“
Very well,
”
Therula sighed, wishing for more but knowing she couldn't demand it.
“
Thank you, Eben.
”

“
It is no trouble, your highness,
”
Eben assured her.

He closed his door, and Therula was left alone in the stairwell. It seemed very dark after Eben's lighted room. She descended slowly, measuring her steps with care, but felt no more dizziness on the way down.

What she did feel was a sharper confusion than she had before. Could she be imagining it all—Unferth's distraction, Oskar's forced good humor? Therula didn't think of herself as being prone to flights of fancy. Yet Eben thought she did. He was so wise. Tomorrow, perhaps, or the next day, Eben would let her know Pikarus was all right. When he did, Therula would laugh at herself and her silly fears.

She would.

* * *

It didn't seem to matter that Lottres wasn't speaking to Brastigan. Captain Morbern, the commander of Caulteit Keep, was willing to talk enough for all of them together. Before the end of supper, everyone knew more than they wished of Morbern's life. He was a local man, proud indeed of how well he'd done in the king's service. A wife and children dwelt in the town and, by his wide grin, he adored them all.

Morbern's broad good humor made Lottre's own anger into an anti-climax. No one even noticed that he wasn't talking, because no one could get a word in.

“
I wonder if he's even seen combat,
”
Brastigan muttered, while Morbern had the whole table roaring with laughter at his older son's escapades.

Lottres shrugged. Who was he to judge? He hadn't seen combat himself. He couldn't help wondering if Brastigan had forgotten that, or if he was reminding Lottres of it. Trying to prove how much more he knew. When Lottres didn't answer, Brastigan shrugged himself, irritably.

At least Morbern did give a satisfactory response when Brastigan finally got him to focus on their situation. He dispatched a message to Carthell at once, then applied himself to the business of detaching the unwanted camp follower. Morbern also offered the squad mules in exchange for their horses, a suggestion Brastigan was quick to approve.

Pikarus looked askance at the loss of the valuable horses, but Brastigan insisted. He said the mules would be sure-footed and hardy, an asset in rough country. Despite their greater size, the chargers were delicate by comparison. They needed more water and special care, and they were no faster once you left the high road. Morbern assured them the mules were war-trained, not as skittish as horses, and they were easily strong enough to bear the weight of armored men.

“
Besides,
”
Brastigan said,
“
I don't fancy us being set apart by the color of our steeds. You might as well shout,
“
Look! I'm important! Shoot me first!
”“

At this, Pikarus reluctantly agreed. Not that it really mattered, Lottres thought bitterly. Brastigan thought he knew so much about horses, and he wouldn't listen to anyone else, anyhow. He had to have everything his own way.

Lottres slept poorly that night, despite Brastigan badgering him to an early bedtime. He hadn't been able to practice the second form, and it made him irritable. Lottres was sure that tonight he would have heard something in the fire. Instead, he turned over and over, shifting between sleep and wakefulness.

Once Lottres woke suddenly, with his skin prickling. He was certain he had heard Eben's voice calling out to him from far away, but now there was only darkness and snoring.

* * *

They emerged from the fortress in a pre-dawn gloaming. The chilly air held wisps of steam from the breath of men and beasts and the drumming of hooves along muddy streets was the only sound. Soon they crossed an ancient, moss grown bridge over the River Ogillant and left stone walls behind. The dark waters rushed between narrow banks, as if they would flee their origins in the north.

Daybreak found the riders on a river plain striped with low hills. At first, clusters of flickering light showed where farms and houses bestrode the hills, but these showed fewer with the rising sun. The hills started out bald—the woods, no doubt, cut down for firewood—but soon grew shaggy with trees. Plowed fields yielded to pastures, and then to marshy grassland. As they crossed the first rise, the plains below were dappled green and gold. The river lay in braided channels, now dark, now silver bright. It looked like a tapestry of Therula's weaving, save that now and again the whole scene shimmered with sheets of tall grass bowing to the wind. The desolate loveliness helped, in a small way, soothe Brastigan's concern at Lottres's stubborn silence.

No longer held down by the weight of wagons, the road wandered freely across the plain. It skirted the deepest pools, but Brastigan often smelled stagnant water and heard the sodden thump of hooves on spongy wooden spans. They saw myriad birds—ducks, cranes, yellow-headed blackbirds—and met swarms of bloodthirsty bugs, but no other travelers shared the road. Brastigan was sure of that, for the sun-gilt plain gave no cover at all. Still, whenever he looked behind, his brother's face was turned back and up, and he knew it wasn't Wulfram that Lottres watched for.

Well, Brastigan had endured enough snubs from that quarter. He reined in his gray mule to ride beside his brother's dun.

“
Looking for those migrating crows?
”
he teased.