A Posse of Princesses (22 page)

Taniva grinned. “Is very good. Heh!” Then she
turned away, falling into conversation with Dartha and the older
women. Rhis caught a few words. Path. Ride. Horses. Prince.

With an inward jolt, Rhis remembered Dandiar
and his guards, somewhere out there, maybe even running parallel to
the girls.

To shove him out of her mind, Rhis
determinedly talked about ballads, and where they came from. Yuzhyu
listened, no longer moving her lips. As the others began packing
against morning and their usual fast departure, Rhis stayed where
she was. The way Yuzhyu leaned toward her, showing far more
interest in the rambling conversation about songs than it
warranted, Rhis sensed that the Ndaian princess wanted to talk to
her.

And she knew what about. She also knew that
she was still angry with the false Dandiar the Scribe, though
defining why wasn’t as easy as it had been. So she gave one last
strum in the lowest minor chord and set aside her tiranthe. If she
was right, she only had to say, “So tell me his reasons.”

Yuzhyu did not ask ‘who?’ or ‘what reasons’.
She said, “You not want to lissen.”

“I’m listening now.”

“I think very long how to say.” Yuzhyu
flashed her lovely smile, not seen for days. Then she leaned
forward, and in smoother language than Rhis had ever heard from
her, she explained how Lios’s mother, Queen Briath, had married the
Ndaian queen’s brother. He was also Yuzhyu’s uncle. Queen Briath
and the Ndaian prince made a treaty alliance with their marriage.
But Queen Briath had sent her consort home for good before Lios was
even born.

“She hate my oncle. My oncle not like she.
Her. When my cuzzin came for to stay—the treaty said he must—my
oncle was so unkind to him. Said he be like his mozzer. So Lios and
my home-cuzzins all play togesser. Then life not so bad for him.
When he go home, his mother not like memories of Ndai, or how he
remind her of my oncle. She leave my cuzzin live at Eskanda.”

“So Queen Briath doesn’t really know Lios?”
Rhis asked.

Yuzhyu shrugged her shoulders up and down, a
sharp movement. “Not much pipple do. Me. My brosser. Some cuzzins.
We all good friends. We make his stay in Ndai good. And when I
come, he promise to make my visit good.” She smiled wryly. “He
tried.”

Rhis had to agree with that.

Yuzhyu continued, “This is why he makes a
party to meet girls and no treaty . . . how you say? No treaty
mask. Not like his mozzer, and my oncle, who pretend friendship for
treaty when they are courting. But they do not know each other, and
when they do?” She made a terrible face. “They not like the
other.”

Rhis watched the way Yuzhyu rubbed her
knuckles over her knees as she crouched. It was clear how much she
liked her cousin. But.

“He said it was a joke,” Rhis muttered.

Yuzhyu looked up in the fading light. It was
difficult to see her expression. Rhis had seen a wide range of her
moods, but the Ndaian had never been sarcastic. So her sardonic
tone was a surprise now as she said, “You do not think Iardith
chasing Andos a joke?”

Rhis picked up the tiranthe, ducked through
the tent flap, and slid the instrument into her saddle-bag. Yuzhyu
hunkered down nearby, watching. Rhis thought back, then said, “I
do. But it makes me feel mean. Because of what I heard about the
King of Arpalon, who told his daughter she cannot come home without
a queen’s future crown.”

Shera, lying in her cloak, said, “What are
you two talking about?”

“Lios. The real one.”

“Urf. I don’t want to talk about boys.” Shera
turned the other way.

Rhis said to Yuzhyu, “I feel a little sorry
for Iardith. But only a little. When I remember the way she pushed
other girls out of her way, as though she was the only one who
mattered, well, yes, then I see the joke.”

Yuzhyu grunted, rolled up in her coat, and
that was the end of the conversation.

oOo

The next day, they reached the border of
Damatras, which was a long chasm cut by a river through some
jumbled mountains.

The regular road ran along the ridge above
the chasm. Taniva pointed out how it meandered among the slopes,
gradually rising and falling. “Easier for armies to march. But much
slower than old trail,” she said as they rode slowly along the edge
of the road.

They finally found what she was looking
for—and even then almost missed it, a turnoff that looked like a
footpath. When they edged up to the roadside above the chasm, they
saw that there was not a sheer drop, but a slope leading down to a
little bridge that connected to an outcropping, well shaded with
ancient trees, on the adjacent hill.

Without explanation one of the older women
took off down this little path, raced over the little bridge, and
vanished into the shaded old forest growth. Taniva and the other
woman followed more slowly, and Rhis, Shera, and Yuzhyu followed
them.

The path into the old forest appeared to be
an animal trail, but Rhis discovered after a time that this was a
very old footpath. The horses had to walk in single file for most
of that day.

Then it was time to go upward again. Mossy
marker stones, the carvings in them obscured by time and thick,
rambling thorn-bushes, rested beside twists and side paths,
matching signs on the map.

Huge dark green trees with thick clusters of
hanging leaves obscured the travelers as they continued the long
climb up the mountain paths. Slowly, Rhis noted, the lovely leafy
trees of the lowlands were giving way to firs, though some were
different types than those she’d grown up with in Nym. Once a band
of clouds moved across the sky, and Rhis listened to the rustling
patter of rain in the leaves overhead while only occasionally
feeling a drop or two.

They halted just above a wide river full of
stones and white water. Beyond a wide bend Rhis could make out part
of a vast bridge.

“We wait here,” Taniva said.

“Why?” Rhis asked.

“Because they patrol all time. Beyond here,
we do not go as us. They know we are here before we see any of
them. We change,” she said, dismounting.

“Change?” Shera asked, hands on hips. “Back
into civilized people, I hope.”

Rhis studied her sister-by-marriage, who
stood there in grubby riding clothes without a hint of ornament,
her face smudged, her hair skinned back into a tight braid. Shera
didn’t look like a princess any more. She looked more like a
weathered, practical courier or caravan rider. Rhis wondered if she
herself looked like a cook.
Not a very successful one
, she
thought with an inward laugh.
I’m too skinny
.

Taniva smacked her hands together. “We change
into players. Music players.” She pretended to strum a stringed
instrument. “We practice when we stop.”

Shera crowed in delight. “A masquerade! Oh,
how
fun!
”

“Wait. Wait,” Rhis said. “We won’t fool
anybody who really knows music like court musicians play.”

Taniva waggled her hands. “No matter. It gets
us in castle gates. You perform. If they like you, you play for
king. If not, they say go away next day. Gates close at night. No
one goes in or out.”

“But—” Rhis faltered as Taniva glanced at her
impatiently.

She studied the others, finding similar
expressions. They thought she was being too fussy. She struggled
for the right words. “I just do not want them suspicious. I mean,
if we arrive right behind Jarvas and the Perfect Princess, and they
lock gates at night. Doesn’t that mean these are people who
really
don’t like strangers?”

Yuzhyu poked her chin out in her definitive
nod. “Iss true.”

“That’s why we practice. You two sing and
play. Yuzhyu plays hand drum. Dartha dances.”

“Looking like we do now?” Rhis asked.

Taniva laughed. “Where you think Arnava goes?
To get disguises, and find a Damatran hand drum! We get in. You
perform while I find pest. Then it is up to you, for they can never
see me, as High Plains and Damatras are old enemies,” Taniva said.
Her lips curled deeply. “And I have been here before.” Her smile
vanished. “So you have three days. We travel. You practice. We act
when we get inside.”

Shera turned to Rhis, hands on her hips
again. “Taniva has gotten us safely there. So now it’s our turn . .
.” She looked uncertain.

Rhis said in her brightest voice, “All
right.”

Taniva laughed. “We are girls. Musicians.
What can go wrong?”

In a castle full of enemies? When Rhis had
never held a weapon in her life?

“What can go wrong?” Rhis echoed with
completely false confidence.

The capital of Damatras was a long, narrow
walled city, built along a high ridge above a slow river. The
king’s castle commanded the view from the center of the city, with
its own towers and high walls—higher than the city walls. There
were four towers connecting these walls, and a central one that was
the highest of all. It made the various towers to the sides look
kind of like a crown, all coming to that central point, silvery in
the watery sunlight.

All the castle windows were arches, widened
from the old-fashioned arrow slits. Rhis wondered if, like in Nym,
there were wards against arrows passing through windows—or if the
people had sturdy iron-reinforced shutters to be put up in bad
times, like many who didn’t trust magic, high on Nym’s more distant
peaks.

Behind the city rose sheer cliffs blasted by
powerful magic a couple of centuries ago. Long striated layers of
rock glittered in the sun. At one end the mountain sloped away,
impossible for any enemy to climb without being seen; the other end
was marked by a spectacular series of waterfalls that fed into the
great river.

A single bridge of awe-inspiring beauty
crossed from the main road to the ridge above the river. There was
no other approach to the bridge but the main road—full of armed
people riding back and forth as they scanned the market and city
traffic.

After Taniva’s guards had done a scouting
foray—looking for sign of Dandiar and his group—the girls had
proceeded in a sedate ride along the main road, Rhis with her
tiranthe worn over her back in the style of a traveling harper.
They were all dressed alike now, in high-waisted cotton-linen
blouses, worn over split skirts of a brown or blue so dark it
seemed black. The sleeves were loose in the Damatran style. The
clothes were pretty much like what they saw girls and women around
them wearing. At night, while Rhis and Shera practiced singing,
Shera making up tricky harmonies that actually sounded pretty
good—if not (she was the first to admit) up to court standards.
Yuzhyu tried complicated rhythms on her little hand drum. Dartha
danced, and one woman sewed a Damatran headdress for Taniva, who
had taken off her distinctive riding boots.  They were
instantly recognizable to anyone who had met Taniva.  Instead
she went barefoot, something Rhis both admired and envied. 
Elda had never permitted her to step outside without proper
princess shoes.

The last day, Dartha, who had nimble fingers,
braided crimson piping into all their hair, creating multiple
braids. She made them extra tight so they wouldn’t have to trouble
about their hair for a few days. Then they all bathed in a cold
stream (which was very unpleasant, but certainly woke one up) and
folded away their dirty clothes into their saddlebags.

Rhis’s scalp pulled and she kept wanting to
touch the parts in her hair and the tight braiding outlining her
skull. But she couldn’t. Taniva had warned them that fingers in
their hair would signal to anyone who looked that they weren’t used
to wearing their hair like local girls.

Rhis’s new clothes were loose and a little
scratchy, made with a rough linen blended with cotton, instead of
the silks and polished cotton fine-cloth she was used to wearing
next to her skin. But she liked the outfit—it moved freely.

As they got into line to ride over that vast
bridge, after Taniva had been giving them details on what to
expect, Shera finally asked, “How do you know so much about
Damatras? I mean, you said you were here before, but aren’t these
folk your enemies?”

Taniva told them cheerily how it was a
requirement for chieftains’ sons and daughters to make one raid
before they could ride the plains as heirs. “I am king’s daughter.
I must make mine a raid for kings and queens, do you see? So I lie
up in the mountain above the waterfall, over there, and watch for a
week. They never see me because I move around at night. Then I find
my way in.” She smacked her hands together. “And when I am in, it
is easy enough to find where king and family have rooms. Not so
easy to get past guard, but I found good disguise. So snick-snack!
I take Jarvas’s ceremony knife. Very old. He does not take it on
training rides.”

Rhis gasped. “That knife with the blue jewels
on the handle?”

“Yes! He sees me wearing it at Eskanda. He
knows I took it,” she said with cheer.

Rhis listened in dismay.
“You stole it
from him?”

“Oh, from his room. He is not there. If I
fight him for it, and win, then there is a feud from his father. If
he win, a feud from mine. Many people die. Used to be, in the bad
days of old, you fight to the death for your heir raid. Too many
died that way.” Her eyes crinkled as she brandished the elegant,
lethal-looking silver and black handled knife with the blue
gemstones. They flashed blue sparks in the sunlight. “Now, we just
make the raid when they are not there. So they do not lose honor.”
She smacked her chest. “Jarvas takes two years ago my father’s
favorite bridle, the one for parade. But we are not at our tents,
we are away on a scout run. But everyone else is there. When we
return and Father find it gone, and nothing else gone, how Father
cursed and cursed!” She shook with laughter.