Prince of Time

Chapter Twenty-Nine - The Lost Princess

It took some time for wounds to be cleaned and bound. Pepper’s ankle was broken and had to be forced back into place, which involved a few quiet screams. Tobiah had broken ribs and the knife-wound in his shoulder had reopened.

 They spoke very little as they sat on the pavings, Zeno carefully sewing together Tobiah’s skin. Nicanor hurt all over but he was prepared to trust to Zeno’s doctoring skills. Nevertheless, he wished Ane were here.

“At least,” Zeno said, eventually, “there seems to be nothing else to kill us.”

“That’s only worrying,” Tobiah gave a short gasp as Zeno finished the last stitch. “Either there’s nothing to find or we are wanted to advance.”

“Or both,” Pepper murmured and nobody needed to confirm this.

 “Done,” Zeno stood up. “That should hold for a while, unless you do something stupid.”

Tobiah twisted his arm experimentally, gritting his teeth at the stabs of pain.

“Thanks,” he said. “Thank you,” he added, after a slight pause.

“No problem,” Zeno half-smiled. “It’s nice not to feel completely useless.”

“You’re not useless,” Nicanor almost laughed as Zeno pulled him to his feet. “You saved my life.”

“Only by chance.”

“Don’t talk yourself down,” Nicanor shot a look at the gigantic corpse lying in the courtyard.

“It was your sword that killed it,” Zeno pointed out.

Nicanor rolled his eyes. “Joint effort?”

“Joint effort,” Zeno agreed. “By the way, I think there’s an armoury behind the stables. That’s where I got the spear, anyway.”

“Perfect,” Tobiah rolled his head from side to side, joints clicking. “Let’s rearm the dragon rider and explore this god-awful monastery.”

There were no objections.

A rather battered company made its way through the winding corridors of the monastery. The only one intact and unharmed was the one who nobody trusted in a fight. Each prayed that they met no powerful threat.

“This place is empty,” Pepper stated, after two hours of fruitless searching.

“It has a rather nice orchard,” Zeno considered. “I could imagine staying here for a while.”

Pepper hit him round the head. “But there’s no darkness, no Finem, no Lym.”

“True,” Zeno sighed. “Tobiah, I’m sorry.”

The prince wasn’t listening. He was tensed, standing up straight, his eyes distant. The other three looked at one another, confused, unable to tell what he was thinking about.

“This way,” Tobiah announced.

“Which way?” Pepper asked, confused. “We’ve tried all ways.”

“Not this way,” Tobiah repeated. “This way!”

He strode off down the gallery and they followed him at a scurrying run, unable to keep up with his determined pace. Tobiah led them down three passageways and at last stopped at a small door.

“Kitchens,” he declared.

Before anyone could argue, he threw open the door. They were inside seconds behind him, not wanting to miss a moment. A fire burned merrily in a grate. Somebody sat on a chair in front of it, sleeping.