The Reluctant Champion

Napesh

How like and unlike this journey was to that other. Her escort was augmented now, twelve of her father's troops returning with them to the capital as honor guard—or guard, simply—accompanying them on the last leg of their journey.

Sayeem—dear Sammy—had been in charge of the border post on the trading road. He had glanced at her and looked again; he had thrown his helmet high in the air and rushed to her and wrapped her in a bear hug, princess or no. She could still feel the bruises of that hug—he had been wearing a cuirass, and armor was never intended to support displays of affection.

Sammy was the best thing to happen to her on this journey. They had practically grown up together—he was an orphan, the head groom's foster-child, and she was the palace hoyden, happier on the practice-ground or a horse's back than anywhere else. Now that her brother was gone he was her sole link to that time. Her brother had thought he should exert authority over her, but Sammy was always only too happy to help her evade parents and governesses for an afternoon fishing, or birding, or practicing with the small-sword behind the stables.

Sammy led their escort now. He had not asked her anything about her leaving or about her return with the barbarian and the Tynatese. They had—inevitably—grown apart as they grew older and he did not expect to be in her confidence.

She sighed. The gray sky and muddy road matched her mood today. The anger she had felt at Galen was still there, a stone at the pit of her stomach. But it had been joined by a cold sense of loss and a deep, deep loneliness. She was very tired of having to keep her own council, to plan and decide what was best for her whole country. But she had chosen this, and soon she would be able to place the whole business in her father's hands. That would be a relief.

That would be tomorrow. Tonight would be their last on the road—and would she ever again travel like this, alone or with a small group, unremarked across the face of the land? They were making a long day of it today and would clean themselves up for the entry into the capital tomorrow. Despite everything, she was impatient to be there.

Her last night on the road. She had been a vagabond and a captive, an emissary and an ambassador. What would she be now, when her father had said his say?

If only she weren't so tired.

#

She awoke late that night, for no good reason.

Unable to return to sleep, she rose and crossed to the window of her chamber, where a gibbous moon spread light across her bed. No doubt that was what had woken her. She leaned her elbows on the windowsill, gazing into the soft night.

All was quiet. Were there voices? No, just the wind in the trees. Wait—a faint shuffle where one of the guards stood watch. Sammy had insisted on posting a watch by the inn yard gate. When had he grown so conscientious?

No, that was movement. Over there someone was crossing the yard. For no reason except that she was restless and worried and doubtful, Lidah stuffed her nightgown into her riding trousers and slipped out of her room to see what was up.

She hesitated in the shadows of the stableyard. There was the guard, and there was Bashanadar with his beasts close by him. Lidah tensed, but they were talking easily and in low voices. Soon Bashanadar stepped out through the gate and moved off into the darkness, his beasts ranging ahead. Lidah hesitated a moment. It was no business of hers what he did. But then she turned back into the inn, found another door, and followed Bashanadar down the road.

Bashanadar stepped off the road into the forest almost at once and walked for well over half an hour. He seemed to find paths as though by magic—or by the senses of the beasts that ranged ahead of him. Lidah followed as best she could, keeping to the path so she made no noise, following the slight rustle of their passage and the occasional flare from the beasts' nostrils.