She cast out a tendril of thought, feeling for life in the earth beneath them, around them. It teemed with life—insects, rodents, spiders—but nothing that cared about their presence. She worked her way up slowly—nothing, nothing—there.
Cleverly hiding itself in the autumn leaves, a hawk perched in a high treetop. Its mind regarded her without thought or word, aside from its mission to indeed watch her. She stood so she could partially see it through the leaves. It did not seem particularly keen on what they were doing—just knowing their general location.
The woman’s voice on the balcony. Perhaps this prince wasn’t the only mage they had. Although that gave her a small thrill of fear, this “spy” wasn’t much of a reaction. A simple bird tracking their location? An Akarian mage knew she had their prince, and this was it? Or were they working toward something more?
She glanced at her captive. He was sitting cross-legged on the bedding, munching on the hardening bread and cheese she’d given him. He didn’t seem worried, frightened, happy, or unhappy; he just sat, munching and staring into the fire. He was beginning to show slight stubble around his chin, which she had to admit had a handsome effect on his already-striking jaw. His skin was quite pale—probably from living in that underground fortress. How long had he lived there? And the brightness of his eyes! It made her long for him to look into hers again. But really nothing good could come of longing for that.
He was definitely an odd one. She could still see the grin she’d woken up to on his face, which disturbed her most because she couldn’t explain it. Handsome as he might be, he might also be a little batty. Wouldn’t be the first member of a royal family to turn out that way.
She folded up her maps and took her last bite of bread. She thought of her resolution the night before to learn who he really was. In the daylight she dreaded it more. They had a long journey, more than a four-day ride at this more careful and burdened rate—at least six, she guessed. Wouldn’t there be plenty of time later to figure him out?
She shook her head at herself. Kidnapping a foreign prince—no problem. Talking to him? Now that was scary. Still, she did not want to know. What if he had a wife—children! By the gods, she couldn’t do it. At least not this early in the morning.
She readied her things. They needed to make good time today, and she needed to find a town where she could buy a saddle from someone, preferably without too much suspicion. And all the while she’d need to keep him seeming anonymous, uninteresting, docile—and, of course, keep him from escaping at the same time.
She glanced again in the hawk’s direction, then cast her mind after it. She found nothing. It was gone.
“So are you going to tell me any of your plans? I’m guessing no?” he asked suddenly, making her jump.
She stared at him, saying nothing and letting the silence stretch as a response. Perhaps she’d have her conversation whether she liked it or not.
“Clever answer. I suppose I can’t blame you. But I’m at least wondering about a time frame here. I mean, how long do I have left? Hours, days? Minutes?” He was laughing as he said it, but she suspected he meant it.
She hesitated. The binding would keep her from telling him anything the Masters didn’t want him to know, right? “You’ll receive no harm from me unless you force my hand. I am only to transfer you to another.”
That seemed vague enough.
“And then?”
“I don’t know.” It was true. He seemed to believe her.
“Then how far till we get to wherever you’re taking me?”
“Not minutes or hours.”
“Days, then. Or weeks?”
“Depends.” She shrugged. He was staring at her hard, and she could see his brain churning, trying to figure out how to get her to tell him more. What did he want? Peace of mind? He wouldn’t get that by actually getting answers to his questions. He looked down at his lap, still thinking but saying nothing for now.
“C’mon,” she said. “Pack that up and make ready to ride. You can ask me your questions while we travel.”
“I suppose you can avoid them just as well on horseback as on foot.”
She snorted, smiling. “Yes, exactly.”
5
Threats
Aven didn’t ask her many more questions that day. She didn’t ask him any back. They rode mostly in silence, stopping occasionally for the horses to drink and rest. From time to time, she felt sure the eyes of some creature were on her back, hawk or something else, but she couldn’t catch one. They reached the next town as the sun was three fingers above the hills.
She reined their horses in and turned to him. “We’ll sleep more comfortably tonight if we can make it into this town without event. I can’t have you causing any disruptions or drawing attention to us, so this may be slightly uncomfortable—”
“More uncomfortable than being tied to the ground all night?” he said. By the gods, he didn’t want to be a mouse in a pouch again—or whatever he’d been.
“No, but I can’t have you being recognized—”
He laughed aloud at that. “There’s really no danger of that.”
“Well, I’m hardly in a position to believe you, am I?”
“But I’ve hardly ever—” He was about to fire off another snide remark, but a strange tingling, twisting sensation in his face caught him off guard. He put his hands to his face and felt—to his sudden shock and disgust—his cheeks and jaw and neck suddenly move. It only lasted for a moment, but his hands felt and felt. His face was no longer his own. For one thing, he had a beard.
“I told you it would be uncomfortable.”
“What in the name of—”
“That won’t do either.”
He heard a small snapping noise, perhaps the noise of her snapping her fingers, and suddenly he could not finish his exclamation. By the gods! He tried to speak but not even a croak came out or a whisper. Just air.
She had taken his voice!
Was such a thing even possible? Had he gone mad? Shocked, he watched her cork a small jar and put it back into a purse that hung from her belt.
Damn him and his incompetence! Just what had she done?
“Now, don’t make a scene, and maybe I’ll give you that back at some point.”
Cleverly hiding itself in the autumn leaves, a hawk perched in a high treetop. Its mind regarded her without thought or word, aside from its mission to indeed watch her. She stood so she could partially see it through the leaves. It did not seem particularly keen on what they were doing—just knowing their general location.
The woman’s voice on the balcony. Perhaps this prince wasn’t the only mage they had. Although that gave her a small thrill of fear, this “spy” wasn’t much of a reaction. A simple bird tracking their location? An Akarian mage knew she had their prince, and this was it? Or were they working toward something more?
She glanced at her captive. He was sitting cross-legged on the bedding, munching on the hardening bread and cheese she’d given him. He didn’t seem worried, frightened, happy, or unhappy; he just sat, munching and staring into the fire. He was beginning to show slight stubble around his chin, which she had to admit had a handsome effect on his already-striking jaw. His skin was quite pale—probably from living in that underground fortress. How long had he lived there? And the brightness of his eyes! It made her long for him to look into hers again. But really nothing good could come of longing for that.
He was definitely an odd one. She could still see the grin she’d woken up to on his face, which disturbed her most because she couldn’t explain it. Handsome as he might be, he might also be a little batty. Wouldn’t be the first member of a royal family to turn out that way.
She folded up her maps and took her last bite of bread. She thought of her resolution the night before to learn who he really was. In the daylight she dreaded it more. They had a long journey, more than a four-day ride at this more careful and burdened rate—at least six, she guessed. Wouldn’t there be plenty of time later to figure him out?
She shook her head at herself. Kidnapping a foreign prince—no problem. Talking to him? Now that was scary. Still, she did not want to know. What if he had a wife—children! By the gods, she couldn’t do it. At least not this early in the morning.
She readied her things. They needed to make good time today, and she needed to find a town where she could buy a saddle from someone, preferably without too much suspicion. And all the while she’d need to keep him seeming anonymous, uninteresting, docile—and, of course, keep him from escaping at the same time.
She glanced again in the hawk’s direction, then cast her mind after it. She found nothing. It was gone.
“So are you going to tell me any of your plans? I’m guessing no?” he asked suddenly, making her jump.
She stared at him, saying nothing and letting the silence stretch as a response. Perhaps she’d have her conversation whether she liked it or not.
“Clever answer. I suppose I can’t blame you. But I’m at least wondering about a time frame here. I mean, how long do I have left? Hours, days? Minutes?” He was laughing as he said it, but she suspected he meant it.
She hesitated. The binding would keep her from telling him anything the Masters didn’t want him to know, right? “You’ll receive no harm from me unless you force my hand. I am only to transfer you to another.”
That seemed vague enough.
“And then?”
“I don’t know.” It was true. He seemed to believe her.
“Then how far till we get to wherever you’re taking me?”
“Not minutes or hours.”
“Days, then. Or weeks?”
“Depends.” She shrugged. He was staring at her hard, and she could see his brain churning, trying to figure out how to get her to tell him more. What did he want? Peace of mind? He wouldn’t get that by actually getting answers to his questions. He looked down at his lap, still thinking but saying nothing for now.
“C’mon,” she said. “Pack that up and make ready to ride. You can ask me your questions while we travel.”
“I suppose you can avoid them just as well on horseback as on foot.”
She snorted, smiling. “Yes, exactly.”
5
Threats
Aven didn’t ask her many more questions that day. She didn’t ask him any back. They rode mostly in silence, stopping occasionally for the horses to drink and rest. From time to time, she felt sure the eyes of some creature were on her back, hawk or something else, but she couldn’t catch one. They reached the next town as the sun was three fingers above the hills.
She reined their horses in and turned to him. “We’ll sleep more comfortably tonight if we can make it into this town without event. I can’t have you causing any disruptions or drawing attention to us, so this may be slightly uncomfortable—”
“More uncomfortable than being tied to the ground all night?” he said. By the gods, he didn’t want to be a mouse in a pouch again—or whatever he’d been.
“No, but I can’t have you being recognized—”
He laughed aloud at that. “There’s really no danger of that.”
“Well, I’m hardly in a position to believe you, am I?”
“But I’ve hardly ever—” He was about to fire off another snide remark, but a strange tingling, twisting sensation in his face caught him off guard. He put his hands to his face and felt—to his sudden shock and disgust—his cheeks and jaw and neck suddenly move. It only lasted for a moment, but his hands felt and felt. His face was no longer his own. For one thing, he had a beard.
“I told you it would be uncomfortable.”
“What in the name of—”
“That won’t do either.”
He heard a small snapping noise, perhaps the noise of her snapping her fingers, and suddenly he could not finish his exclamation. By the gods! He tried to speak but not even a croak came out or a whisper. Just air.
She had taken his voice!
Was such a thing even possible? Had he gone mad? Shocked, he watched her cork a small jar and put it back into a purse that hung from her belt.
Damn him and his incompetence! Just what had she done?
“Now, don’t make a scene, and maybe I’ll give you that back at some point.”
