Mearsies Heili Bounces Back (27 page)

Pralineh’s surprise made it clear that she found it
difficult to believe, but her round-eyed expression changed to concern when she
said slowly, “He is usually so even-tempered. I wonder if it could have been
that talk of travel that provoked him so?” But she didn’t explain, just added, “It’s
true that Raneseh is not likely to write to any king or queen, and Rel knows
that. But you did explain your experiences, didn’t you?”

Her rueful smile deepened when she looked at my face—which
was hotter and probably redder than ten fires by then. I mumbled, “No. Didn’t
want him snickering and snarkling at me, like I was making it up.”

“Why don’t you tell me what happened? I would so love to
hear it!”

I shrugged, feeling stupid again. “Isn’t much to tell. See,
we got splatted to this continent, never mind how, and were trying to travel
home. And we fumbled into Arthla, which is Bermund’s capital city ...” And
while we drank hot chocolate, I told the story about the Four Queens and the
statues. “So anyway, they were unfrozen, and took up their lives again. Except
for Autumn, who took on the task of finding her cousins, who got cursed by that
old mage.”

Pralineh shook her head. “I do not know what to say!”

“Nothing
to
say.” I shrugged, made uncomfortable by
her expression of ... oh, call it admiration, or even awe. “So they
do
know me in Bermund, and don’t I wish I could see them now.”

Pralineh’s smile faded at the sight of my discomfort. “Oh,
Princess Cherene, you are not happy here—I feel that I am failing you somehow.”

My fork clattered to my plate, and I shot to my feet. “No!
That’s not it at all!”

Pralineh just looked unhappy until I joked and jollied her
out of it by asking a lot of questions about her friends and their parties, and
that tapestry, and so forth. After we finished lunch I offered to help sew,
behaving like a good little kiddie with determined concentration.

But the next morning, when Pralineh mentioned casually, in
the course of conversation, that Raneseh had written his letter to request a
meeting with the Wise One, I went cold and hot. No use in pointing fingers of
blame any more: that time was over.

I had to escape.

All day I kept up my good little kiddie act. Twice I
glimpsed Rel. First walking next to Pralineh, carrying a long, heavy-looking
basket into which she put snipped flowery stalks to be put in the household
vases. The next time I saw him was when I stepped out into the garden—after
peering at the walkways as best I could. And sure enough there he was, book in
hand. Keeping a distance. But there.

For the first time I studied the house from the perspective
of the garden.
How
could I not have noticed that the Raneseh’s side had
windows overlooking the garden? Because I’d had no interest in his and Rel’s
disgusting lair, of course, once I’d discovered that their sitting room library
was boring. But I knew better—you had to learn about The Enemy, even if just to
avoid them.

With my luck, those windows there at that first jut that
overlooked most of the garden in my direction were Rel’s. So of course he could
see all the way to the door of my room without even moving from his chair.

I have to get him out of his room, or away from the
windows
, I thought. But there was no way to do that without making him
suspicious. Whatever I did would have to fit into the way things had gone
already. What had Captain Heraford said once, about planning raids and escapes?
That you learn The Enemy’s patterns, then use their pattern when under their
eye. That makes you almost invisible, because they don’t have to pay attention
to you. You’re doing what they expect. Then you use another pattern when out of
their eye, and you disappear because you aren’t where they expect you to be.

Rel thought I was a dumb ten-year-old brat instead of a
twelve-year-old ... um, adventurer, princess of a fine country and left-hand to
the queen. My pattern had been running for the garden wall and sulk, run and
sulk, and finally throw a tantrum then sulk for a long time, after a series of
flubbed tries at escape.

All right, time to try their patterns instead.

I prowled around after Pralineh, who went about her morning
chores, inspecting the pickings from the garden and discussing meals with the
cook, talking to the housekeeper about some furnishing stuff. Bored, I let my
attention wander. As the housekeeper complained about the stable boys who were
so hard on their clothes that after only a single season the fabric was scarce
good enough for the rag bag, I spotted two of the boys out at the other side of
the vegetable garden, furbishing up the open carriage Pralineh used for
visiting when the weather was nice.

I almost groaned aloud, I longed so badly to have their
freedom and fun—

Stable boys.

Three of them, currently, all sons of other servants.

Stable boys—the housekeeper saying,
That’s not fit for
the rag bag
—

Disguise.

I drew in an unsteady breath.
Think! Don’t go running off
and destroy your one chance, you cornpone
, I scolded myself. Disguise. Take
old clothes from the rag bag. Hide my hair, dress as a stable boy.

And then what? I was still stuck with the problem of leaving
when Rel always seemed to be able to spot me when I was in the garden. How
could I get him out of there? Doing what? What was his pattern? Lurking in his
room on the watch for any of the doors to open, and me to come out.
Watching
me, and then making sure I don’t run away.

I grinched up my face as I considered my 100% lack of
success. Let’s see, Rel’s pattern as a result of my pattern? He’d haul me back,
and then, while I sulked in my room, he—

Went to report to Raneseh, whose windows overlooked the
other side of the garden—

A pattern!

And so that afternoon I tested that a little. I went out
into the garden three times in a row. Each time I slunk along toward the
walkway leading straight to the wall—and each time Rel emerged from that middle
door, yep, on the other side of the trumpet-lily trellis. So he
did
have
a room overlooking the garden! And he probably ate his meals and did other
chores when I was busy with Pralineh. Then, as soon as Pralineh was alone, he
was back on brat-duty.

Patterns ... patterns ... patterns.

That night I tested a couple more times, not just checking
the pattern but hoping that it was getting really annoying. As always, Rel knew
when my door opened—and there he was, looming like the spackle-baggie he was,
until I splatted back inside.

The next morning I followed Pralineh around on her chores,
this time asking where everything was. Pralineh obviously thought I was taking
an interest in Proper Girl Things, and went out of her way to explain the wine
cellar, how Raneseh ordered the wine and she stored it—but how they made
certain cordials themselves—preserves ... herbs ... storage ... bedding for
different seasons ... bite back that yawn, CJ! ... how they pieced quilts for
winter from the rags.

Rags!

I showed a sudden and inspired interest in quilt making.

Pralineh began with the rag bin back of the laundry area.
They used cleaning frames for actual cleaning, but had the laundry for ironing
and airing, and drying in winter. Pralineh was so happy at my interest that she
was easy to distract, thus I easily swiped a ripped pair of trousers, a shirt,
and a vest from the rag bag, stuffing them under my dress with my arm tight to
my side to hold them, while she explained the clothes press, the winter drying
racks, and beyond, the series of big, airy chambers dedicated to cloth making, filled
with spindles and looms.

I felt like the world’s slimiest phony when I said, “I’m
just so interested in weaving and, ah, quilting! Can you show me everything?
Um, again?”

“Why, I would be happy to,” Pralineh said with genuine
kindness that would have made me feel even more like a snail, except for the
thought of getting away from Rel. Not to mention getting home.

And so past the big quilting racks and tables, past the
looms and spindles, until we got to the storage area, where they kept
miscellaneous winter stockings, mittens, and caps that were shared generally by
the household when they had to go outside in bad weather.

Distracting Pralineh by a flood of questions about mattress
ticking, I dug out a flat cap loose enough to hide my hair. That I held in the
folds of my skirt until they finished with the bedding. Pralineh then offered
to show me where they were setting up for boiling and bottling the preserves
that would be made after harvest, but I said, “That makes me so hungry I think
I want to eat first!”

Pralineh instantly abandoned the tour, promising to order
lunch at once. When she stopped by the kitchen to speak to the cook I slipped
away and sped to my room, where I shoved the stolen clothes inside my nightgown
in the wardrobe, then I sauntered back.

Plan Escape, Part Two, I thought as I joined Pralineh again.
Get ready, get set ...

As we ate, I asked questions about the surroundings. Who
lived where, what they grew there, and so on, but in between I asked about towns,
roads, and so forth. I had to go north, but how far?

Pralineh did not really know much beyond her own circle of
friends’ Holdings. She offered to ask Raneseh for a map, but I hastily said I
couldn’t read maps, so that bad idea would get dropped. Pralineh said she
couldn’t read maps either, we both laughed, and I thought, whew, and abandoned
the questions. I wasn’t learning much of use anyway.

Pralineh had somewhere to go that afternoon. She offered to
take me, but I refused politely. And as soon as Pralineh was gone, I retreated
to my room, locked the door, pulled the curtains, and got out my disguise.

The clothes were baggy but fine. The rip in the trousers was
down one side, and in a knee. I could fix those. What concerned me more was my
hair.

Lina, the mayor of the Tornacio Islands, had told me about
disguising long hair. There was a way to twist your hair up into a knot,
letting the ends hang down in back to cover your neck. Then you pulled the cap
on, but it had to be tight enough to hold the hair in place.

I messed around with that, got the hair more or less right,
but I’d have to take in the band of the cap.

So I rang for Maraneh, said that I wanted to try some
embroidery, to surprise Pralineh. The maid brought scissors, thread, needle,
thimble, and some lengths of cloth. I listened with barely concealed impatience
as Maraneh told me how to begin a chain stitch and a satin stitch, and then
left me to it.

I scowled at the cloth, knowing that I’d have to at least
attempt something in order to throw off suspicion. But first I toiled away at
the cap until I got it tight enough to hold my hair in place. Then I sewed up
the trousers, leaving the knee hole.

I was busy doing terrible chain stitch as fast as I could
when the maid returned to report that Pralineh was back. I went out to endure
another evening of boredom. I proudly showed Pralineh my stitch work—hoping
that Rel and Raneseh would get an ear-load of what a good little kiddie I was
being. Then I sat over the sewing, which I now performed extra slow and clumsy,
so no one would wonder why I’d got so little done in an entire afternoon.

But Pralineh was not a suspicious person. I felt like a
toadstool by the end of the evening, having lied to her, fooled her, stolen
clothes from her.
I’ll make it up to her, I promise
, I kept telling
myself.
I’ll come back and tell her why
. I didn’t care what The Enemy
said about me, but I didn’t want Pralineh thinking me a liar and a thief.

o0o

The next day was cloudy with intermittent rain. I found a
piece of paper, wrote Pralineh a note apologizing for everything, and put the
note on my pillow.

I ate as big a breakfast as I could, then retreated to my
room, and while Pralineh was busy on her morning rounds, I got into my
disguise, put my blue dress back on over it. The cap I tucked into the trouser
pocket.

Then I slunk out into the garden and tried a series of fake
escapes, each time stomping back when Rel showed up. He didn’t speak, but that
annoying poker face was beginning to look mighty grim by the last one, when I
started yelling insults. When we reached the house I slammed my bedroom door
and stood next to it, bellowing a storm of fake tears.

Would he go off to tell Raneseh?

I slipped through my inner door and down the hall just far
enough to listen for sounds at Raneseh’s end, and yep, there came the tread of
feet and the sound of Raneseh’s door opening and closing.

Now!

I slipped back to my room, thrashed into my disguise, put
the blue dress through the cleaning frame and hung it up. I saw my note, then
put it on the floor of the closet. I didn’t want them to see it right away—I
needed all the time I could get.

Then I slipped out my door, but instead of going into the
garden, I pressed flat against the door and edged round to the side of the
house I’d never explored, which sloped away up toward the stables and storage
buildings. Then, running low, I made my way along those walls, ducking directly
under the windows, hoping no one looked out—I’d be instantly seen. Somebody
might want to know who the scruffy urchin lurking around was.

But people were busy with their morning work, and Rel was
still with Raneseh, or else in his room watching for my door to open again.
Triumph burned bright inside me—but only for a second or two.
Stop that
,
I thought when I reached the wall, and grimaced as I cast a look over my
shoulder.
You know what your luck is like! As soon as you think you’re okay,
they crunch you!

I scrambled onto the wall ... and over.