******
Toryn observed h for a while. There was something odd about him... something indefinable. He looked like an average person, with blond hair, greenish eyes, and handsome features, but he had a quality that Toryn was unable to pinpoint. Redwing wandered around the cavern like an excited child, far removed from the serious warrior Toryn had seen previously. Brydon Redwing was an enigma.
The rain pounded a rhythmic staccato that was audible even inside the cave, although muted. Toryn yawned widely as Redwing found nothing else of interest and returned to sit beside him.
"Tell me about your quest," Toryn said after a moment as he tried to stay awake.
"What is there to tell? I am looking for something. I have two years to find it and return to Falara. If you know who I am, you must know that already." Redwing prodded at the burning sticks with a sturdy twig.
"I know only that you are a Falaran on a quest. What are you looking for?" Toryn prompted.
Redwing smiled. "Forgive me if I do not tell you."
Toryn grimaced, but he understood. If it were Toryn’s quest, he would certainly never tell his purpose to a Falaran. Toryn yawned again and his jawbones cracked slightly.
"Why do Falarans go on these quests, anyway? They aren’t common, are they?"
"No, not common at all. A prince of royal blood must go on a quest when he comes of age. In the absence of a male heir, the chosen suitor of the royal princess must do it in order to prove his worthiness to assume the throne," Redwing replied. He poked at the fire and sparks leaped upward before falling back as colorless ash.
"Then it’s true that you will be the next king of Falara?" Toryn asked. He rolled onto his back to look at Redwing, who nodded solemnly.
"It is true. As long as I complete the quest in the allotted time."
"But you are not the royal prince, correct?"
"The king had no sons," Brydon affirmed. "Only a daughter. She turned sixteen not two weeks ago and chose me as the questor." Toryn’s interest sharpened, homing in on a subject he had an intense interest in—women.
"Princess? Tell me about her. Why did she choose you?"
Redwing’s gaze grew distant. "I am not certain. I have known her since we were children and I never suspected her of being overly fond of me. She used to order me around like a scullery boy. I was surprised when she chose me."
"No one knows the mind of a woman," Toryn reminded him sagely.
"That is a solid fact," Redwing agreed with a smile. He leaned back against the wall of the cave and stretched his legs out. "She chose the quest and I don’t think she realizes how difficult it will be."
"She chose the quest? A woman? You are surely doomed. What does she want? An Akarskan horse? A diamond bracelet from a Silveran prince?"
Redwing shook his head and replied evasively, "Something even rarer. Women always choose our quests. If the king has a son, his mother, the queen, chooses. If there are no sons, the princess selects a suitor and sends him on a quest for her. All of our quests are women’s whims, whether simple tasks or impossible assignments."
"That sounds like a dangerous way to run a government," Toryn avowed.
"It can be. One former princess sent a poor fellow to bring her the claws of a snow leopard. Apparently, she hated him for some insult and thought it suitable revenge."
"What happened?" Toryn asked, mortified.
Redwing shrugged. "He never returned. Luckily for her, or she would have had him as a husband forever after."
"He most likely walked south and kept going," Toryn said.
Redwing did not smile. "That would be treason," he said tightly.
Toryn snorted. "Better a live traitor than a pile of bones in a snow leopard’s den," he rationalized.
Redwing seemed dumbfounded at the thought. "Have you no honor? It would be better to die than live as a coward and be exiled from Falara all the days of your life!"
Toryn suppressed a sneer. Falaran concepts of honor bordered on ridiculous. In Redol it was honorable to steal into an enemy’s camp and take his daughters. It was honorable to raid Falara and steal a herd of sheep and anything else one might find. It was honorable to kill Falarans who sought to become the next Falaran king. Toryn decided not to mention those things. Redwing would not understand.
"What happens if you complete the quest, but it takes longer than the allotted two years?" he asked instead.
"The day after my deadline, another will be chosen and sent off. If I return after that, no dishonor will come to me, though I will have technically failed. I would go back to my old life."
"And if you get back in time, you will marry this princess?" At Redwing’s nod, he continued, "Is she beautiful?"
Redwing contemplated, as though he had never considered the question before. "I suppose. I never really thought about it."
Toryn found that thought somewhat ludicrous. It was the first thing he noticed about women, even childhood friends who grew up into mysterious, tantalizing creatures. "What is she like?" he prodded, "Is she interesting?"
Redwing shrugged. "In a scary sort of way. Eryka loves to get her way. In all things. She is always thinking of ways to get what she wants, which makes me wonder exactly why she sent me on this quest. I wonder about it often."
"It sounds to me as though you’re not looking forward to everlasting life with this woman," Toryn remarked. "You don’t love her, do you?"
"Of course I love her! She’s the princess."
"But do you love her as a potential wife?"
Redwing floundered, obviously uncomfortable. "Well, not yet. But I am sure I will once we are married."
Toryn clucked his tongue sympathetically. "Poor naive boy. You know very little about women, I see. Can you refuse to go on this quest?"
"Refuse a royal decree?!" Redwing raised his head so quickly he nearly snapped his neck. He looked as though the thought had never occurred to him. It probably hadn’t. "One does not have to accept the quest, but it would be viewed as cowardice."
"Forgive me for asking," Toryn said dryly. "Falarans are more foolish than I had thought. You let women pick your rulers and send them on Adona-forsaken quests... What happens if she chooses a weakling?"
Redwing, looking offended, seemed reluctant to reply, but he finally did. "Then she usually rules through them."
"I see," Toryn said, as if that explained everything. Redwing stared at him, obviously unsure if the comment was meant as a slur upon him or not. "And what happens then?"
Redwing grinned wickedly. "We invade Redol."
Toryn lobbed a wet shirt at him. "Do you plan to invade Redol when you become king?"
"If I become king," Redwing corrected. He pulled the wet cloth from his head and hurled it back at Toryn. "Why would I want to invade Redol? There is nothing there but grass, cows, and heathens."
"No, not heathens, remember? We worship the same god," Toryn said before his face was filled with wet shirt. He tugged it off and balled it up.
"Indeed," Redwing admitted and eyed the shirt in Toryn’s hands warily. "Grass, cows, and fellow believers."
Toryn wasn’t sure how to reply to that. "Very well, here is my advice: Get this object, carry it around with you for a couple of years, view the world, and return home after your time is up." Toryn lobbed the shirt. "Or would that be too ‘dishonorable’ for you?"
Redwing did not avoid the wet material as it slapped him in the face again. He pulled it away and threw it by the fire. "Intentionally forfeit the throne?" He sounded aghast.
"Who would ever know?" Toryn asked mildly.
"I would," Redwing replied in a voice like iron.
Toryn smiled and shrugged. Redwing fell silent after that, apparently lost in thought. The darkness outside deepened, so Toryn sat up and rooted through the pack for their dinner, the final bits of Brydon’s dried meat.
After they ate, Toryn banked the fire and went soundly to sleep. He looked forward to waking up the next morning without being covered in dew.
&nb
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