The Runaway Princess (16 page)

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Authors: Kate Coombs

BOOK: The Runaway Princess
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“I thought you said you could track anything,” Bear said.
“I
am
tracking,” Beaknose answered tightly.
Bear kicked a rock. “Anything but a little witch, eh?”
Beaknose stomped on. “There,” he said, pointing at a bush. “See that twig? She broke that.”
“Or a fox did, or a rabbit, or a—”
“Shut up!”
Bear smirked, following his shorter companion. “Or a hedgehog, or a deer—could have been a baby deer or a mama deer—”
“I can't track with you yammering on like that,” Beaknose growled.
Bear fell silent. A wolf, a squirrel, even an opossum, he thought, lumbering on.
 
When Meg opened her eyes, it was dark. “Scarf!” Meg cried. “I didn't mean to fall asleep! Why didn't you wake me?” Something tickled her cheek. “Oh. You did.” Meg struggled to her feet.
For a moment she was afraid she wouldn't be able to see Lex's compass in the starlight, but the boy wizard had thought of that, too: the compass glowed softly, like a small moon.
It'll be easier to sneak up on that fool prince at night, Meg told herself as she went on, trying not to trip in the darkness. She could only hope Bain had stopped for the night. He hadn't gone back to the castle; the compass proved that.
Sometime later, Meg came over a hill and saw a faint flicker through the trees below her. Beyond the trees lay the moors, vast and dark. She watched for a moment, until she was sure she was seeing the light of a fire. Bain, she thought exultantly. Meg crept downward. As she came closer to the fire, she heard voices. Someone walked by her to the left, and she froze. Who were all
these people? Bain had been alone when he left the castle.
But the compass drew her on. Cam would be just ahead of her. The counterspell rested in the bottom of her hidden pocket, ready to save her friend.
Meg moved from one tree to the next, using her hand to shield the light of the compass from strange eyes. Then someone grabbed her from behind and she yelled, dropping the compass. The scarf flapped away, startled.
“Who are you, tippy-toeing into our camp?” a rough voice asked. Meg's captor dragged her toward the fire. What would Prince Bain say?
Meg's hands were released. At first she could only blink around at the circle of scowling faces. Then someone was asking a question, and she focused on a young woman with tousled black hair who was saying, “How did you find this place?”
But Meg scarcely heard. She was staring at the woman's throat, where, suspended from a silver chain, lay a small, triangular box.
IN A CITY NORTH OF GREEVE, KING JAL OF LORS learned forward, addressing his advisers over the long, candlelit table. “Tark proposes an alliance.”
His most senior adviser spoke. “If Tarylon's news is reliable, tell us: what does King Stromgard have to gain by this move?”
“By holding our sons hostage?” King Jal said bitterly. “He would have Lors and Tarylon by their throats.”
“And who knows how many other kingdoms?” a general put in, his eyes gleaming.
The king of Lors turned his own eyes to meet the general's and nodded slowly. “We'll leave part of our forces here.”
“We?” the senior adviser asked.
“I'm going after my son,” said King Jal.
 
 
Nort languished. At least, that's what the balladeers always called it. It seemed a lot like feeling sorry for yourself, Nort realized.
The walls were dank stones, and somewhere something dripped not quite often enough that Nort remembered it would, and then every time it did he was annoyed all over again. At least Hanak hadn't bothered to put manacles on him. Why, Nort could walk right from one side of the cell to the other! He tried it. Four short steps or three long ones. He sighed and sat down on the rickety cot, wrapping himself in a piece of burlap that must once have been a feed bag and was now intended to serve as a blanket.
Somewhere nearby, another prisoner was snoring. Whoever it was sounded like he had a bad cold. It was dark down here, and growing darker. “The Loyal Guardsman.” That's what his ballad should be called. Nort swiped away a tear, wondering what Meg was doing.
His mouth felt dry. Nort looked around for water. There was a bowl in one corner. It reminded him of a dog dish. Nort tasted the water. It was stale, but he was very thirsty.
Soon he heard footsteps and voices. A light brightened the dimness, coming closer. Not Meg already, Nort thought.
King Stromgard swept to a regal stop in front of Nort's cell and spoke to him through the bars. “Well? What do you have to say for yourself?”
“I'm sorry, Sire,” Nort said. Sorry for all kinds of reasons, he thought bitterly.
“What happened?”
Hanak stepped forward beside the king. “And no more cockamamie stories.”
“It was magic,” Nort told them.
“That much is obvious,” the king snapped. “But who did it, and where have they taken my daughter?”
Nort shook his head. “I don't know where she is.”
“Did you see who took her?” Hanak asked.
“No.”
“Gracklebacks!” the king swore. “Either you're so stupid I can't imagine why we ever took you on, or you're in collusion with the kidnapper.”
“Come, Sire,” Hanak said. “Perhaps he'll remember something useful tomorrow.” The guard captain gave Nort a cold blue look.
“He'd better,” said His Majesty, turning away. “Or he'll grow a very long beard before he gets out.”
The light faded up the passageway. Nort fingered his chin, trying to remember why he should keep covering for the princess.
It came back to him half an hour later, when Dilly brought him his supper. “Nort?”
He wiped away a few more tears as he sat up. “Dilly?”
She held a candle in one hand and a steaming dish in the other. “Hungry?”
Nort nodded. Dilly scooted the dish under the lower edge of the bars and fished a spoon out of her pocket.
“I don't suppose …” Nort's voice trailed off.
“I can't get you out,” she said. “But Meg will.” She handed him the spoon.
“Is she back?”
“Not yet.”
“What if something happened to her?”
“Don't say that.” Dilly lifted her candle, frowning. “I can bring you a better blanket. And some fresh water.”
“Thank you,” Nort said.
“You're welcome.” Dilly turned to go.
Nort felt panic rising in his throat. “Wait!” he blurted. She looked back. “Can't you stay and talk a little?”
Dilly hesitated. Then she sat down gingerly in the passageway, setting the candle beside her. “Tell me how they caught you.”
 
“Now what?” Bear whispered.
Beside him, Beaknose looked down at the people gathered around the fire. “The witch
and
the bandits? Vantor might give us a little of that gold when he sees this.”
“He told us to bring her to him.”
Beaknose sighed. “Do us no good to get caught by that bunch.”
“He
said,
” Bear insisted.
“He also said to report any sign of the bandits' camp.”
Bear thought this over. “All right.”
The two henchmen went back the way they came. A moment later, one of the bandit sentries passed right where they had been standing, but all she found was leaves.
 
“Most prisoners are more attentive when we discuss their fates,” the woman seated by the fire said dryly.
Meg started. “I beg your pardon?”
“What are you staring at?” the woman asked.
“That little box,” Meg admitted out of desperation. “Where did you get it?”
“Ah.” The woman touched the trinket at her throat. “You've seen it before?”
Meg nodded, finally looking the woman in the face. The woman was very pretty, with clever green eyes. Suddenly Meg knew where she was. “You—are you a bandit? Where's Bold Rodolfo?”
The woman laughed. “Some call me that, but they have never met me. My own people call me the Bandit Queen. And you have stumbled into our lair.” Now her eyes grew watchful. “How did you find us?” she repeated.
“The box—” Meg said, confused. “But Prince Bain had it.”
“Not anymore.” All of them laughed this time, nudging each other. Meg looked around the circle of faces. They had a hint of the wild about them, the wary expressions of animals in the woods when they catch sight of humans. The bandits were dressed in dark, dull colors,
here and there brightened by what must have been stolen rings and earrings and satin scarves.
“So many princes wandering about,” their leader mused. “Such kind folk, willing to share their good fortune with the people of Greeve.”
“But the princes are after you,” Meg said.
“And we're after them,” a red-haired man hooted.
The Bandit Queen smiled. “Someone is always after us. In fact, how do we know you haven't come spying for one of those princes? Or the king? And what do you want with this?” The woman touched the box again.
“It's my friend,” Meg blurted. “He's been enchanted.”
“And I'm the lost princess,” one of the bandit girls called. “Tell us another!”
The queen changed the subject abruptly. “Have you eaten?”
Meg shook her head. Suddenly it seemed she hadn't eaten in days. She ached and itched. And worst of all, she could see Cam, but she couldn't save him. Not yet, anyway. Meg tried to collect her courage.
“Lute, get her a bite of supper,” the woman commanded. A slender boy jumped up from the fire and went into the darkness.
“Now,” the Bandit Queen said, “let's hear your story. Then I'll decide what to do with you.”
Meg hesitated. She couldn't tell them who she really was. But she could offer up the pieces of her adventures that had to do with Cam's predicament.
“Thinking of lies?” the woman asked, amused.
“Thinking which parts of the truth might matter to you,” Meg said bluntly. “It started when Cam and I went to the witch's cottage.”
“Why would you want to go there?” a stout bandit with a beard called. He took a great bite of a pork rib.
“To warn her about the contest.”
The Bandit Queen gave her followers a cynical look.
“It's true!” Meg said indignantly. “What's she ever done to anyone, to have the king treat her like that? And all those ridiculous princes, parading around like they own half the kingdom already?” Her hands clenched into fists.
“Hear, hear!” cried an old man.
The Bandit Queen raised her eyebrows. “Not a fan of royalty, are we?”
“She's practically one of us,” a woman teased from beyond the flickering flames.
“Go on,” said the Bandit Queen.
Meg squashed her anger, returning to her tale. “Anyway, we were trying to warn her when that Bain showed up.”
“Another horrid prince,” the queen said in placid tones.
“Right. And he threw a spell at the witch, but he missed and hit my friend instead, and when Cam turned into a little silver box, the prince took him and ran away!”
Somebody snorted. “Why would a man like Bain run from the likes of you?”
“Gorba was about to turn him into a frog.”
“I see,” said the Bandit Queen, sounding as if she did.
“So I was trying to find Bain, and now I'm here,” Meg said, jumping to the end of the story. “To get my friend back,” she added, in case the bandits weren't clear about that part.
“Which still doesn't explain how you found us, especially as you claim to have been searching for the prince who stole your friend.” Murmurs of agreement came from all around.
“I—had a spell.”
“Another spell? Show me.”
“I lost it in the bushes when your guard grabbed me.”
Some of the bandits called out derisively, but the Bandit Queen simply signaled to one of her men. Just then Lute came back with a bowl of something that smelled wonderful. “You may eat while Targel finds the spell,” the queen told Meg. “What shape is it?”
“Like a compass, small and round and flat.”
Targel went off to look for the spell. Meg dug her spoon ravenously into the dish of meat and vegetables. Some of the other bandits finished eating and departed, but the queen stayed by the fire, talking in a low voice to one of her lieutenants.
Meg watched the Bandit Queen between bites. She
couldn't help admiring the woman a little. The bandit was strong and brave and living just the kind of adventure Meg had always dreamed of having. The adventure involved more dirt than Meg had imagined, and there was the whole problem of stealing, but Meg found herself wondering what it would be like to be a bandit queen instead of the ordinary, stuck-in-a-castle kind.
Despite her daydreaming, Meg managed to finish her food before Targel came back and dropped the spell-compass into his leader's hand. The Bandit Queen turned it in the firelight. “It's beautiful. Where did you get it?”
“I can't tell you all my secrets,” Meg said.
“That's wizard work,” the queen's lieutenant whispered. He was a twitchy sort, like a young rabbit.
“Witches and wizards,” said the Bandit Queen, tossing the compass in the air and catching it. “There's more to your story than you've told.”
Meg waited.
“What will you give me for the enchanted box?” the woman asked.
“The compass?” Meg said, knowing it wouldn't be enough.
“I already have it. Besides, its usefulness would appear to have ended.” The Bandit Queen moved the compass in a circle around the box at her throat, watching the needle spin frantically to point at Cam's spell. She stopped, leaning forward suddenly. “Perhaps a few of your secrets might be more valuable.”
Meg glanced around at the circle of eyes gleaming in the firelight. “I'll tell you some secrets.” She looked right at the Bandit Queen and tried to match her boldness. “Just you.”
The Bandit Queen laughed. “A woman-to-woman talk, is it? Very well. Come on.” She stood up. One of her men instantly handed her a lantern.
Meg gave her bowl to the nearest bandit and followed the Bandit Queen across the camp to a quiet spot. “Pull up a rock,” the woman ordered.
Meg plopped down on one rock as the bandit sat on another. “What else do you want to know?” Meg asked.
“I want to know where you got enough money to buy a spell from a first-class wizard,” the woman said, toying with Lex's compass again.
“What if I want to know something, too?” Meg dared to say.
“Such as?”
“What's it like to be a bandit queen?” Meg propped her chin on her hands.

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