Lioness Rampant (3 page)

So Liam was the Shang Dragon. That explained why he was bold enough—or uncaring enough—to go weaponless. He had little to fear from human predators.
He has dragon's eyes,
she thought, remembering how they changed color.
Pale green when he doesn't want to share anything with you, and
—she grinned—
blue-green when he's flirting.

She finally gave up on sleep and dressed, thinking maybe a ride would settle her. Within moments she, Faithful, and her gold-colored horse Moonlight were
galloping out of Berat. They rode on and on while Alanna remained deep in her thoughts, not noticing how much ground they covered. She paid little attention to the road or the fog that closed in. She was too preoccupied.

All her life she'd planned to be a knight-errant, roving the world to do great deeds. But now she was learning that such a life included periods of boredom, riding through countryside that seldom changed. Not every village had a cruel overlord; few crossroads were held by evil knights.

At home, if the king wished it, he could put her on border patrols like the other knights she knew, hunting bandits and raiders. But she didn't think the king
would
give her such work. Roald was most displeased that she had lied about who she truly was. A quiet man who preferred harmony at his court, the king said little, but he left Alanna no doubt that he disapproved of her.

In any case, she
knew
Tortall. She wanted to go places she
didn't
know. She wanted to see places left off most Tortallan maps—the lands south of Carthak; the Roof of the World and what lay beyond it. Surely there would be things for her to do once she'd left the more civilized areas behind.

Moonlight stopped, tossing her head nervously, and Alanna had to take notice. By then the fog was so thick she couldn't see the road beneath the mare's feet. The knight dismounted, taking the reins to lead her mare, but they had plodded only a few yards when Moonlight halted, ears flat with alarm. No amount of urging would make her go forward, which worried her mistress. Moonlight was careful, but not timid. If she thought something was wrong, Alanna paid attention. She looked at Faithful. The cat sat calmly in his saddle-cup, ears pricked forward. Fog held them; it muffled even the clink of the harness.

Now Alanna felt something odd. She sneezed. The emberlike stone she wore at her throat burst into fiery light, growing warm against her skin. In front of them the fog wove and braided itself to form a tall woman. She was green-eyed and black-haired, shining in her own magic light. The fog was her dress, glittering with drops of water.

Alanna had only seen her once before, when the woman had given her the ember-stone. Now she released the reins and dropped to her knees, bowing her head. “Goddess,” she whispered.

“Where do you ride, my Daughter?” The immortal's voice was beautiful and terrible, carrying
echoes of the wind and of hounds in a pack. “Is it not late for a ride for pleasure?”

“I couldn't sleep, my Mother.”

A cool hand cupped Alanna's chin, making her look up. She met the Great Goddess's eyes without flinching, even though her body was quivering. “You have achieved all you desired, have you not? A shield is yours, rightfully won. You have slain your greatest enemy. What do you seek now, Alanna?”

Alanna shrugged. “I don't know. I feel there's something
important
I should be doing, but I have no idea what it is. I'm just—drifting. That's why I brought the map here to be translated. Maybe it'll point me toward—Unless you need me for something?” she asked, hopeful.

The Goddess smiled. “I do not plan mortals' lives for them, Alanna.
You
must do that for yourself. However, if you follow the map, you will find its path interesting. But think as you ride.” She picked up Faithful, who'd been waiting at her feet. “What will become of you? Will you drift all your days?”

Faithful chirped to the Goddess, his tail waving, and she smiled at him. Now that he had the Mother's attention, he addressed her at length. Try though she might, Alanna couldn't tell what he said.

Finally the Goddess put him down. The edges of her form grew indistinct, blending with the fog once again. “For a while longer, my friend,” she told the cat. “Do not disappoint me.” Faithful returned to Alanna, who held him close. The immortal was now a shadow, her voice distant. “Who will you be, Alanna?” She was gone.

For the first time since she'd saddled Moonlight, Alanna paid attention to her surroundings. She was in a forest, and that was baffling. This was the same road she and Coram had taken on their way to Berat. That morning they'd left the woods just after dawn, entering farm country. How could she have done a day's ride in a few hours?

The fog was still too thick for safe riding. Finding a rock, the knight sat to await the dawn, feeling cold, damp, and tired. She was beginning to nod off when the breezes came to scatter the mist, unveiling the road. Yawning, she mounted up and urged Moonlight into a trot. Faithful went to sleep without a word. Alanna envied him. Her jaws cracked every time she yawned, and her eyelids felt heavy. At last she dozed.

A jolt—then a burst of pain as she struck the road—woke her. Like the stablemen and troopers
who'd taught her, she filled the air with curses. There were words for people who fell asleep and dropped from their saddles!

Moonlight stared at her mistress, wondering why Alanna had chosen to dismount and sit in the mud.

Swearing doesn't help,
Faithful remarked.
Besides, you woke me up.

“Does your worship want me to pull the curtains so the light won't hurt your eyes?” Alanna yelled, beet red with embarrassment. “Shall I call you for the noon meal, or will you sleep the day out?”

There's no talking to you when you're like this,
was the cat's smug reply. He went back to sleep.

Moonlight nudged her. With a groan, Alanna rose. “I can only blame myself,” she growled. “I could've gone to a convent, never learned to wrestle and be dumped on my head, never have broken any bones or fallen in the dirt. I'd be clean and wear pretty dresses. By now I'd be married to a buffle-brained nobleman with a small fief. I'd probably have clean, pretty, buffle-brained children.” Trying to wipe her hands before taking the reins, she found her breeches were as muddy as her hands. “Don't remind me
I
picked this life. I've no one to blame but myself.” Moonlight shook her head as if to say
she wouldn't. “I always knew there was insanity in my family.”

Alanna heard hoofbeats and froze. She didn't want a passerby to see her in this fix! Determinedly, she looked away as the other horse came closer. Her hands tightened on Moonlight's reins as her face went a darker red.
If a stranger sees me, that's bad,
she told herself.
The worst that can happen is for this to be Liam Ironarm, and me falling off my horse like an incompetent.
She turned.

It
was
Liam. He was not trying to hide his grin. “Nice morning for a ride,” he greeted her. “A little wet, though.”

Alanna swallowed, fighting her temper. “I don't normally
do
this, you know!”

“Nor for a moment did I think it.”

“Why are you here, anyway?” she demanded, too embarrassed to be polite. “It's a long way for a morning ride!”

“I saw you go out. When you didn't come back, I thought I'd check.” Too kindly, he added, “Oh, don't think I figured you'd run out on Windfeld's bill. You left your man and your bags, so I
knew
it wouldn't be that.”

Alanna gasped with fury. “How
dare
—”

“Don't like to be teased, is that it?” Relenting, he said, “Hitch the mare to a lead and ride double with me. I'll keep you a-horse.”

“I'll be fine!”

With a sigh the redheaded man dismounted. “Didn't your mamma teach you to speak polite to strangers on the road?” He put Moonlight on a lead with his big-boned gray. “I could be a sorcerer and turn you into a mouse.”

“You're the Shang Dragon. You won't turn me into
anything.
”

“Don't worry about it,” he said cheerfully. “I pull on my breeches one leg at a time, same as you.” Unstrapping a blanket from his saddle, he wrapped it around her. “There now. You're tired and wet and grumpy—in no condition to ride. I fell asleep once, Alanna the Lioness. A tree knocked me from the saddle into a ditch, right in front of the men I was to command. Bless their hearts, they didn't tease me about it—not much. Up with you.” He threw her into the saddle as easily as if she were a child, mounting behind her and settling her in the circle of his arms.

“Go to sleep, kitten,” he murmured. His voice rumbled in his deep chest. “You're all right now.”

Coram awoke late, with a head he would not wish on his worst enemy. For a long time he waited for his knight-mistress to arrive with her hangover cure. When she did not appear, he went in search of her. It hurt even to dress. It would be worth her heartless quips to rid himself of the headache and nausea.

After the pain of dressing, he was in no humor to find a stranger letting himself out of Alanna's room. Hadn't she been talking to this redheaded fellow in the common room the night before? Coram couldn't remember.

He barred Liam's path. “I suppose ye've excellent reasons for bein' in there, all of which ye'll tell me without delay.” Alanna had friends to protect her name and person, as this man was about to learn!

The Dragon grinned, recognizing the older man. “You must be Coram.”

“I am. That tells me nothin' about ye.”

Liam eyed the burly man-at-arms. “It seems to me the young lady takes care of herself.”

“I suppose ye had that from her,” snapped Coram. “She's wrong. Is there someone in the city who'll speak for ye?” His hand shifted warningly to his dagger hilt.

“The Shang Dragon needs nobody to speak for him.” Liam's eyes went a pale green. “I understand
your wanting to protect her, but I don't like threats.”

Coram frowned. “I'm t'
believe
ye're Liam Ironarm?”

“Come downstairs, before she hears you,” Liam sighed. “Windfeld knows me.”

The host's verification of the Dragon's identity told Coram it was time to change tactics. So he invited Liam to share his morning meal, and the food eased his hangover. He could concentrate better on quizzing the redheaded man.

“Does she know?” he asked. “Lady Alanna?”

A slow grin spread across Liam's face. “She knows.”

“No doubt she's in a dither tryin' to decide what she wants to ask ye first.” Coram thought for a moment, then met the Dragon's now-gray eyes. “What's the likes of ye want with Alanna of Trebond?”

The big man shrugged. “She's a pretty thing—different, and full of fight. I never heard that she avoids men.”

Remembering Prince Jonathan and the thief, George, Coram flushed. “She's
still
not a woman without all virtue.”

Liam chuckled. “She's too good a warrior to have a bad reputation as a woman. At least, no one will call her bad when she might hear.”

“I'd think the Shang Dragon had his pick of pretty ladies,” growled Coram.

Liam rose. “Maybe. But she's not just that, is she? She's as known in her way as I am in mine.” He put a massive hand on Coram's arm. “I'm not a village lad wanting to boast of having the Lioness's pelt in my hut, Master Smythesson. I like her. I'd probably like
you
, if you stopped glumping about my being in her room.”

He left a coin for his food and strolled out as Coram sank his face into his hands. “Life used to be simple,” he told his palms.

Faithful jumped up to sniff at Liam's plate.
Probably more boring, too.