"I don't want to fight you," Tashi said in a voice little more than a whisper.
This woman's presence seemed to crush her, making her feel small and insignificant.
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"See, I told you." Fergox laughed. "She's as stubborn as a mule. Come, the troops are assembled for us to review them." He strode off, calling for his clothes.
Junis sheathed her sword and waited for him to go. But instead of following, she took Tashi by the shoulders.
"We've waited on your whims long enough. Come on, girl, fight!" She shook Tashi hard, making her teeth rattle. "Wake up! In Spearthrower's empire, you fight or you die!" She pushed Tashi away and drew her blade again. "Unlike your teachers, I'm not going to miss when I aim at you. What will you do now, Blue Crescent Princess? Die like a dog or fight like a hero?"
Junis raised her sword, her expression merciless. Closing her eyes, Tashi gripped the hilt of her own blade, determined not to flinch from the blow. She heard Junis grunt as she swung--she heard the whistle of air--but then a pair of arms clasped her from behind and lifted her sword to block the
downstroke. The blades clashed together, the Inkar's fierce swipe skidding off to the ground.
"Perhaps your ladyship would prefer to do battle with someone who wants to pit his strength against hers," Ramil said, pushing Tashi gently behind him.
He levered the blade from her frozen fingers and then tested its weight by twirling it in the air.
Junis glanced at the pale-faced girl who had fallen back to take shelter behind the barrier and then at the dark-skinned boy who was grinning roguishly at her.
"Hah! You're right! It would be much better sport to
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see what Lagan's boy is made of." She swung at him but Ramil was ready for her, meeting her stroke with a high defense. Circling round, she probed his guard with a flurry of quick passes. He defended them swiftly and efficiently.
"I see the Gerfalian sword trainers have not neglected their prince," Junis noted with approval, stepping back.
"I have much still to learn, my lady," Ramil replied, taking the chance to go on the attack. His opponent was strong and crafty and a match for his height; he would have to use his superior agility to outwit her if he wanted to win the bout. He dealt her a complex pattern of thrusts and cuts that kept her backing away, but then a momentary doubt crossed his mind, giving her the
advantage again. Would it be better to lose to ingratiate himself with the old she-warrior? Or maybe she'd like him better if he won? That certainly suited his mood. He returned to attack, wielding his sword with fluid skill that would have made his old teachers proud. Junis was forced onto the back foot and finally disarmed with a twist of Ramil's blade.
"Do you submit to me, and thus to our Father God?" Ramil asked as was the custom on these courts.
Panting, Junis replied, "I submit. And, by Holin, well fought, young Prince!
You would give my brother a hard time--there's a match I'd like to see."
Ramil bowed. "I would not presume to challenge him, my lady."
Junis lifted her tangled locks off her neck to cool
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down, catching sight of Tashi watching nervously from the sidelines. She pointed her blade at Prince Ramil. "There, girl, that's real fighting! As for you, pale-faced witch from the western islands, you disgust me. I do not know why my brother wastes his time on you. Take her away. Come, Prince, let's go drink to Midwinter cheer."
The high point of the Midwinter holiday was the feast in the banqueting hall.
Entering the packed chamber, Ramil saw that the walls had been decked with greenery, the floor covered with fresh rushes, a huge meal prepared by the castle kitchens. Everyone was busy with the celebrations: this night, Ramil decided, would offer the best hope of escape.
"Young Prince!" called the Inkar from the top table. She was dressed rather incongruously in a rose-pink gown with plunging neckline showing her wrinkled throat and battle-scarred chest. "Sit by me." She patted the seat beside her. Ramil made his way through the crowds and took his place.
"Midwinter greetings, my lady," he said.
"Fie upon you!" Junis roared with laughter. "Are they so meek in Gerfal that men and women merely exchange words at Midwinter? In my lands, we are not so bashful." She leant forward and kissed him heartily on the mouth, then slapped him on the back. "See, that's how we do it."
Ramil repressed the urge to wipe his mouth on the
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back of his sleeve, It had been like being kissed by a camel.
"I ... er ... I am honored." He dragged the words up from somewhere.
"So you should be. I don't make a habit of kissing men. Only a favored few."
He wasn't reassured by this but attempted to change the subject. "More wine, your ladyship?" He took a gulp of his own glass to remove the taste left in his mouth.
"Why not? Where in Wrath's name has my brother got to?"
Her query was answered by the appearance of Fergox at the doors to the chamber. The room fell silent as he moved between the tables to take his place. To Ramil's surprise, Tashi followed him like his shadow, head down.
Junis groaned. "He's got that poxy milksop in tow. What do you think, Prince Ramil? Has she bewitched Fergox? I've never known him to make so much fuss about a girl before. Usually weds them and has them nursing his little warriors before the year's out. But this one--no, he even cares what's in her head, not just what she looks like. He wants a real conversion from her."
Fergox took his chair and pointed to a spot two paces behind him for his prisoner to stand. He held up his arms.
"Welcome to our feast. Everyone is invited to share the food on my table tonight: friend and foe, master
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and servant, faithful and heretic, for one night we make no distinction.
Midwinter cheer to you all!" He drained his gold tankard and threw it into the crowd for any lucky man to catch. A fight broke out between two bare-armed guardsmen vying for the prize, resulting in one losing his front teeth and being stretchered out. The victor drank his health from the tankard to the cheers of the onlookers. Fergox roared with laughter and applauded.
Junis tugged his sleeve once he was seated. "Why did you bring her?" She jerked her head at Tashi who was now sitting on the floor being examined by two friendly dogs.
"What's it to you, sister? I like her, that's all you need to know." He heaped his plate with red meats. "She's got those lazy priests of mine earning their keep for once. Besides, I want her to know what she's missing with her obstinacy. She could be here like our young prince, a guest of honor at high table, not sitting with the animals at my feet."
Ramil's cheeks flushed. He hoped Tashi had not heard. She had her face buried in the silky coat of a red setter. He thought her choice of company was better than his, snuffles from that snout far more appealing than kisses from the Inkar.
The entertainers entered with the Midwinter cake. They scattered among the tables, performing to those who called them over. Ramil was not surprised to see some familiar faces. The acrobats from Orboyd's circus flip-flopped down the central aisle; Minka perched on
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the benches telling fortunes to fresh-faced soldiers and hopeful girls; Gordoc arm-wrestled with all challengers and bent iron bars on demand, making short work of the thickest metal.
Ramil used the distraction provided by the circus folk to leave his place and crouch down beside Tashi.
"Midwinter cheer, Princess," he said softly.
She looked up to return the wish but found she couldn't. Instead, she shook her head.
He shifted one of the dogs to sit down. "At home, we celebrate with a hunt in the forest, followed by storytelling and songs in the hall. I tell my good jokes and everyone laughs. My father tells his bad jokes and everyone still laughs.
Privilege of being king, I suppose."
He saw a smile flicker on her lips, then fade. Encouraged, he continued.
&n
bsp; "My sister gets really excited about the presents. Did you meet her? She's like me but well behaved. Anyway, this year she was getting a pony from Father and me. I hope he remembers to give it to her--I chose it myself." He frowned for a moment, wondering what kind of Midwinter they would be having in Falburg palace. "The best part comes at midnight when we put out all the lights and fires all over the palace as a sign that the old year has died.
The king snuffs out the last one--it's very dramatic as we all wait in darkness.
Then I get to light the first candle of the new year. The flame is passed from person to person, put to every hearth in the palace, so we all share that one light and hope." He paused, finding his throat strangely constricted. He'd 152
been trying to cheer her up, but succeeded in making himself acutely homesick.
Tashi stroked the setter. "In the Blue Crescent Islands we have a special ritual for New Year's day," she said, picking up his theme. "We release pigeons at dawn to take messages to all the noble houses around the islands. When I was still at home, before I was a princess, I used to love it when our bird arrived. You couldn't start the feast and the music until it came and we all got very hungry waiting. Kai's a long way from Rama so we were always the last to eat."
Ramil smiled. "And what was the message?"
"It's always a special poem, a mada. It must have four lines and four-eight syllables. We hold a competition each winter and the best one is chosen for the New Year. It's usually in praise of the Mother." Tashi's brief pleasure at the memory soured on the mention of the Goddess. "I don't know what they'll do this time. It's the role of the Fourth Crown Princess to select the winner.
See, I got all the vital jobs." She combed her fingers through the setter's ears, picking out a burr and throwing it aside. "I don't suppose they're missing me; they'll just rewrite a few rituals and carry on. They'll probably start looking for a new candidate to take my place when they hear how I've betrayed them."
Ramil didn't like this new tone in her voice. "You haven't betrayed them, Tashi. You've been strong. You're resisting Fergox the only way you can."
"But I can't defend the Goddess anymore--I'm not
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worthy. I wanted that woman to kill me yesterday, did you know that? I'm a joke--just a goat girl made into a princess by a warlord. It doesn't matter what happens to me now. I couldn't go back to being the Fourth Crown Princess even if I do get out of here, not now that I know what I am." She stared down at the filth on the floor below the bruised rushes. "You'll stand a much better chance if you escape alone. You should go soon--go without me."
"No." Ramil covered her hand with his and gripped it. "I'm leaving tonight if I can, but you are coming with me."
She shook her head. "Do not throw away your one chance. I'm not worth it.
The Mother has turned her face from me--I'll only bring you bad fortune."
"Don't say that: it's not true! Look, if you stay, Fergox will use you to overthrow your own government. Surely you can't let that happen? You'll eventually be forced to become his fifth wife. Do you really want that?"
"Of course I don't. But as I seem to be cursed, maybe I'll bring a curse upon him." She sighed. "Ram, can't you see it doesn't matter anymore what I do, but you, you're still needed at home. You go. If my people are still there, tell them the truth. Let them rejoice that Fergox took me away before I could do any more damage to my country."
"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 raise
d 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.