The hard workouts continued, Warron adding a little trail craft as well. Nan and Joe ended up so tired each night they almost fell asleep over their dinners.
Then one day they were down to making soup out of all the leftovers when noises thumped outside the hideout.
Everyone looked up as something thudded louder. Nan’s heart began pounding warningly.
Sarilda yelled, “They’re back!”
“Finally,” Tarsen added.
“Yo!” a voice called from up inside the tunnel.
Three figures emerged, carrying bulky cloth sacks. The leading two kids, a boy and a girl, were obviously brother and sister. Both had thick manes of dark brown hair, dark eyes, and wide, laughing mouths in thin, sharp faces. The boy was taller and obviously older, and whereas his mouth had the quirks at the corners that Nan always associated with sarcasm and satire, the girl’s expression was friendly and open.
Behind them, moving more slowly, was another dark-haired kid. This one wore his blue-black hair pulled back in a ponytail away from a face with two cruel scars marking it. He walked with a twist that Nan found painful to watch. She looked away, then forced herself to look back while his eyes were not on her; she did not want him to see her reluctance. The problem seemed to be one of his legs, which was stiff at the knee and turned slightly at his ankle. Despite his long black tunic and the loose pants she could see he was very thin.
“Good luck?” Blackeye came forward to take the sacks from him.
The boy sank down onto one of the pillows, plainly exhausted. “Very,” he said. “But we had to run for it.”
“We were just ahead of a Lorjee pleasure-yacht,” said the new girl. She added with a laugh, “And of course Mican had to go back and make sure they were headed for the Lorjee outpost.”
“And?” Warron spoke up, eyebrows slanting wickedly.
“They were.” The boy with the scars looked around, and his expression changed when he saw the Earth kids. “Newcomers. Not—”
“Yes!” Tarsen yelped. “Hey, we almost forgot. Bron, meet Joe and Nan, from a land called Earth .”
“I’m Shor,” the new girl said happily, sitting down next to Nan. “That’s my brother Mican.”
The boy with the sardonic mouth made a gesture that could be construed as a welcome, then asked, “So we’re going after the Falcon?”
“Not yet,” Blackeye said. “We need some practice. Tell me about the run.”
Mican did not hide his disappointment at Blackeye’s not yet. He gave Nan and Joe considering looks, then he shrugged. “We were chased in Fortanya. We stopped overnight in Parth, and raided the garrison there. Nobody saw us. We nearly ran into those Lorjees, and had to tack around the big rocks. Luckily they were busy eyeballing the waterfalls off the Rendan Island cliffs.”
“If they’d been chasing, we would have holed up in one of the little coves beyond the big rocks.” Bron shrugged his thin shoulders. “A lot of fog.”
“Good.” Blackeye nodded. “Then day after tomorrow, we’ll take our Visitors for a dry-run into Fortanya. Show them around.”
“Dry-run? Can’t we have some fun with the warts?” Tarsen asked, rubbing his hands.
“Oh, let’s,” Sarilda chimed in, her eyes bright and excited. “We haven’t had a good chase in weeks. And that nasty Nitre must think we’ve bowed to his threats.”
Warron snorted.
Blackeye gave them a toothy smile. “If Commander Nitre thinks we’ve scuttled, that’s his lookout. But we’ll see what’s going on.”
Several kids gave a whoop of joy, and everyone began talking at once. Nan listened in silence, gathering from their answers to Joe’s eager questions that Todan’s guards in the city— “the warts”— were commanded by an exceedingly cruel individual named Nitre. The Prince’s household was under the rule of Lady Olucar, Nitre’s wife, who was every bit as mean. It was this pair who had decided to “clean up” the city of Fortanya by getting rid of the street children—kids who, Sarilda said indignantly, were living on the streets only because the warts had done away with or imprisoned their parents, like Shor and Mican. The brother and sister had been caught stealing, and were selected for hanging in order to serve as examples. They would have been dead but for a daring rescue made by Warron and Tarsen while the others provided a diversion.
“We cut loose all the horses in the garrison, and stampeded them through the execution square,” Sarilda exclaimed, chortling. “Blackeye thought that one up. What fun it was! The vultures who gathered to watch the hanging all screaming and running, and Nitre and the warts cursing and scrambling out of the way. It was a, uh, an okay sight.”
Everybody laughed.
“Wow,” Joe said admiringly. “Wish we coulda seen that. What other things have you done?”
Blackeye shrugged. “Tell you what. Let’s get some rest now, and we can trade stories to while away the long ride through the islands, day after next. You must be tired.”
Joe started to shake his head—then was caught by a yawn. “Guess so,” he said sheepishly. “But hey, at least I’m not falling asleep right on my plate anymore.”
The others laughed, but not meanly. Most went off to bed.
Nan lingered, hoping to hear more talk. She was content to sit in the background and listen; therefore she was surprised when Blackeye turned to her and said with a smile, “Interested in a little night run?”
Seven
“Uh, what kind of run?” Nan asked cautiously.
“Just a spy-run,” Blackeye said. “Other side of the island. See what those Lorjee toffs in the yacht are up to at the outpost.”
“Oh.” Nan’s heart began to thump warningly. “Okay,” she said, trying to sound cool.
Blackeye gave her a grin, and reached down to slap her shoulder. “Let’s go.”
Nan stood up. Her tiredness had disappeared—replaced by nervousness.
“Got something dark to put on?” Sarilda spoke softly behind her.
Nan shook her head. “I didn’t bring much.”
“Well, I have an extra tunic, and you aren’t much taller. Your hose will do quite nicely. So thick,” Sarilda added, leading the way to the girls’ room. “And sturdy.”
“They’re called jeans,” Nan said. The word didn’t translate.
“A strange word!” Sarilda laughed.
Nothing more was said as Sarilda opened her trunk and drew out two garments. Nan changed quickly, then followed Sarilda back up the tunnel, rejoicing in the heavy tunic of unfamiliar fabric, and the belt with a knife attached around her waist.
Mican and Warron waited, Mican with a sort of skeptical watchfulness on his face and a twist to his smile that cut into Nan’s joy and made her feel a twinge of warning.
Blackeye joined them from another direction, saying, “Tarsen?”
“Bunked out,” Mican answered. “He’s still getting up early to give Joe extra practice with the blades.”
Blackeye nodded. “Right. Let’s go.”
She and Warron led the way out of the cave.
The night air was balmy, and Nan smelled the same sharp tang of saltwater mixed with of herbs that she remembered from her arrival.
“Wait here,” Sarilda murmured when they reached the sand.
The others disappeared briefly, then reappeared carrying a long, narrow boat. Like a canoe, Nan thought.
“Here. You paddle this way.” Sarilda demonstrated with her hands, just barely visible in the weak light of a low moon. “And you ship it like this when we’re still moving.” She balanced her pretend paddle across her knees. “So it doesn’t make any noise. Water carries noises real far, and we don’t know who might be out patrolling.”
Nan’s heart thumped in warning again, but she only nodded.
The other three expertly flipped the canoe, which they’d been carrying upside down, and set it gliding in the low surf. “You get in first, Princess Nan,” Blackeye said.
“Just Nan.” Though Nan secretly loved being called Pri
ncess. She could get used to that, but she didn’t want Joe hearing it.
Besides, the others seemed to respect her more, the way they nodded as if her opinion mattered. Imagine McKynzi seeing this!
Nan climbed in carefully, holding on when the canoe rocked. One by one the others climbed in, rocking it much less. Nan watched the way they stepped right into the middle—she was determined not to rock it again. Mican passed out paddles, and she gripped hers and made practice movements through the air.
Warron, the tallest, was last. As soon as he was in the kids rowed together. Mican stayed in back, steering with curious swooping motions to his paddling.
Nan pulled hard, noticing that the others kept the arm at the top of the paddle stiff. Though this felt awkward, it gave her strokes more power. Grunting with effort, she tried to do her part in sending the silent boat skimming over the rippling waves.
When she got used to the rhythm, she looked about curiously. Her eyes were completely adjusted to the darkness now. Wisps of fog drifted over the water here and there. Once they paddled straight through a patch of fog and she shivered in the sudden chill. When they emerged again, she saw that they were hugging close to a mighty rock cliff. Way in the distance she could barely make out the black line of the other end of the island against the star-studded indigo sky.
They glided silently round the cliff, then curved into a small inlet. Instead of pulling out again when they neared the opposite side, they kept moving through increasingly shallow water until Blackeye said, “Now.”
The others quietly shipped their paddles along the bottom of the canoe and jumped out. Nan made haste to follow, splashing into the cool sea.
The others picked the boat out of the surging tide and carried it ashore, setting it down behind a narrow outcropping of rock so that it was not visible from the water.
“This way,” Sarilda whispered to Nan.
They scrambled up the side of a brush-covered hill. Near the top they passed into the darkness of thick forest, but Warron, who was in the lead, scarcely abated his pace. Two different-feeling hands took hold of Nan’s, guiding her silently. She moved as quickly as she could, her other senses sharpening to make up for her lack of vision.
They reached the top of a rise, then started down a winding, narrow path until they emerged from the forest. Outlined in the moonslight about a quarter of a mile away was a castle built on a high cliff. The lower walls seemed to be made of some dark stone; the long narrow windows all glowed with golden light. Far below, a sheer drop of maybe a thousand feet, Nan guessed, waves crashed against the rocks with a distant hiss and roar.
“Ivy,” Sarilda said, pointing at the bulk of the castle. “Those walls are covered with a few hundred years’ growth. That’s how we got up and down the time we pretended we were ghosts, and scared them.” She laughed. “What fun that was!”
Nan couldn’t hide a shiver. She wasn’t about say what she really thought about climbing on thousand-foot walls—but she couldn’t bring herself to lie and say it sounded great. So she forced herself to give Sarilda a princess grin, because a princess wouldn’t be a chicken.
“No ghosts,” Blackeye said. “We’re here to listen this run. See how many of ’em you can identify. When the big moon touches the promontory—” She pointed to the opposite cliff “—meet right here again.”
“Yeagh,” Mican said with a heavy, disappointed-sounding sigh. “Who’s going where?”
“We’ll take the company rooms,” Blackeye said. “Nan and I. I want to show her around.”
“Ballroom,” Warron said quietly.
“I’ll go with him.” Mican sounded resigned.
“Sarilda?” Blackeye asked.
“Kitchen!” Sarilda said with a soft laugh.
They parted, Warron, Sarilda and Mican treading single file up a narrow path scratched into the side of a mighty rock cliff. Nan turned to follow Blackeye—and the quiet air carried Mican’s voice back clearly:
“If I’d known this was nothing but a baby-walk for a prin-cess, I’d have stayed home and slept.”
The words, and Warron’s snort of laughter afterward, shot a jet of all the old hateful acid through Nan. It’s no different than home. Everyone hates me.
“This way.”
Blackeye touched her arm, and led the way straight up the side of the cliff for several yards. Nan struggled against sliding rocks and gravel, catching hold of bushes and trying to place her feet where Blackeye stepped.
Blackeye shoved her way past a thick, prickly bush and disappeared. Nan followed, then found herself in total blackness. The familiar cool-dirt smell of a cave met her nose. She stood there breathing it in, fighting against the old bad feelings.
“Foogh.” Blackeye’s voice came out of the dark. “I had a notion we’d forgotten to leave candles last time we were here, and I was right. Here.” Fingers bumped Nan’s shoulder, and fumbled down her arm to her hand. “I know the way.”
Nan walked where she was tugged.
The ground was smooth, at least, though it led steadily uphill. After a short time, Blackeye said, “Mican is sour on anyone high-born. He even gave Bron trouble when he and Shor first came—as if anyone couldn’t tell at first look that Bron’s life’s been no better than his own despite his exalted birth.”
Nan gulped. “I didn’t—I’m sorry if I—”
“It’s your breathing,” Blackeye interrupted, her voice mild. “Sounds just like Bron’s did after one of Mican’s better tongue-scorchings. But Mican’s, ah, okay. You know, I do like that word! He’ll ease up on the helm, after he sees that you act like everyone else. Don’t expect to be treated better. Don’t hand out commands to the rest of us. You’ll see.”
“How did you get them to be friends?” Nan asked, glad her voice was under control. She scrubbed her free hand over her eyes again.
“Didn’t. They had to do it themselves. Here. We have to go up somewhere here... Ah. Kevriac used his magic to make the two tunnels meet. Almost went awry, we know, though he won’t tell us anything more about what happened.”
Blackeye’s tug on her hand pulled her up to a rock wall. A kind of ladder had been carved, or blasted, into the stone. Nan fingered her way carefully, her heart beating in her ear. It must have been about forty feet they’d climbed—she was glad she wasn’t able to look behind her.
At last they reached a shelf and crawled onto it. Nan, gasping, sank back gratefully.
“We’ll rest here a mite,” Blackeye said. “Me, I’m glad to have you here. Also glad you are who you are. I’ve got some questions I’ve wanted to talk out, and haven’t had much chance. Kings and queens not coming my way much.” She chuckled. “What kind of queen was your mother?”
“Huh?” Nan coughed, startled.
“Seems to me there’s two kinds of leading. Either Todan’s, where everyone fears you, and you force obedience, or the way my parents ran the Falcon. Crew was free to come and go, and they didn’t have too many rules. But maybe it’s just my good memories making them out to be right, and they were really wrong—which is why old Mursid sold them out. So which was hers?”
Nan had only one memory of her mother’s face, but it was a vivid one. She looked back at that terrible day she’d been abandoned in the park, still saw the stark blue eyes and the mouth pressed in rage and fear, even if she could not remember the words her mother had said at the time. “The fear kind,” Nan whispered.
“You think it best?” Blackeye asked.
“No.” The word came out sounding flat and hard.
Nan heard cloth shifting, and Blackeye sighed. “Maybe you’ve more reason than one for leaving your story behind. I won’t ask more. Ready to walk?”
Nan got to her feet, reaching cautiously. She did not want to miss her step and fall down that long stone ladder, and she knew it was nearby.
If it hadn’t been dark, she wouldn’t have dared to ask next: “You aren’t angry with me?”
“Why?” Blackeye sounded genuinely surprised.
“Here’s my hand, and we go this way.”
“Because—I’d rather my story stay behind.”
“A person has a right to let her past stay past, if you follow what I’m saying. I just like to air my ideas on captaincy when I get a chance. I’ve done stupid things I’d thought out in advance, and I’ve accidentally done good things. Still, I like to try to plan ahead.”
“Seems to me you’re doing good here,” Nan said, glad she hadn’t alienated the leader, at least. “I mean, everyone seems to get along.”
“Started that way,” Blackeye said. Nan could hear a grin in her voice. “Changed when Warron came, I’ll admit.”
“How?”
“Tried to take over.”
“What? That’s rotten! When you’d rescued him and everything?”
“Well, it wasn’t right away. Mostly during training sessions, he’d ride me. It was like he couldn’t help himself. He was so much better than any of us, and here we were, trying to train ourselves for action. So I gave over the training to him, and it still wasn’t enough.”
“What happened?”
Blackeye laughed. “We had a fight, and he whupped me. I coulda foreseen that outcome—I’m good, but he’s better. He’s bigger, stronger, and faster. Then I saw that the others were dividing up into two groups of enemies, so I said I’d step aside. He could run the group—only the Falcon was mine. Huh! Here we are. Now, quiet. This opens right into one of the castle storerooms. We’ve got to listen, make sure no one’s about.”
Nan heard Blackeye’s hands scrabbling at something, and then a wash of cold air swept across her face.
“False stone here,” Blackeye breathed. “Careful.”
Nan followed Blackeye through the low hole into another dark space, this one with a flat stone floor. Nan stood quietly, her heart banging again, while Blackeye moved away.
“We’re fine,” Blackeye said after a long pause. “Door’s this way.”