Fool's Errand (11 page)

“I think that when they have heard what I have to say, they will see that finding the pool and fulfilling the prophecy are intertwined,” replied Azriel cryptically.

Before Persephone could ask him what he meant by this, there came a shout from across a nearby field. Recalling her harrowing encounter with the drunken Lord Atticus on the journey to Parthania, Persephone swung around in alarm.

Alarm gave way to surprise when instead of seeing half a dozen mischief-making noblemen, she saw several dozen lowborn field hands racing across the field toward her. They were all running as fast as they could through the gently swaying grain—the women holding their limp brown skirts high to avoid tripping over them, the men holding their caps in place to avoid losing them, and the children zipping around them like so many grubby little water beetles.

Bursting from the sea of grain, the men, women and children all skidded to a halt by the side of the road just ahead of Persephone and Azriel. Clearly delighted by the novelty of the approaching parade, they chattered and laughed as they drank in the sight of the identically caparisoned horses, the many attendants, the barking dogs, Persephone in her beautiful gown and Azriel in his velvet finery and massive codpiece. Even Rachel seemed to fascinate them—probably because they'd never seen such a heavily bandaged leper. Or if they had, because they'd never seen one who waved so enthusiastically and called out such merry greetings.

Feeling every bit as self-conscious as she had at the beginning of the procession through the streets of Parthania, Persephone was just about to urge Fleet into a trot to get past the gawkers more quickly when Azriel stood up in his stirrups, grandly swept his arm toward her and shouted, “
BEHOLD! THE KING'S LONG-LOST SISTER, THE PRINCESS PERSEPHONE
!”

In a flurry of amazed excitement, the beaming women dipped curtseys, and the men snatched their caps off their heads and bowed. As they did so, Azriel reached into one of his panniers, withdrew a handful of gold coins and tossed them high into the air.

“What do you think you're doing?” hissed Persephone as the field workers noisily kissed the coins they'd caught and cried heartfelt blessings upon her. “And where did you get those coins?”

“I think I am making an investment,” replied Azriel, jostling her arm to get her to wave. “A little goodwill shown toward the common man can go a long way, and one never knows when the support of people such as these might come in handy. As for where I got the coins, the Regent promised me a sizable bag of gold, remember?”

“And he gave it to you?” asked Persephone, so surprised that she continued waving of her own volition.

“Not exactly,” replied Azriel, grinning like a pirate.

Though stealing treasure from the Regent was obviously no joking matter, Persephone could not help laughing at how pleased Azriel was with himself for having done so. “Well,” she said, smiling over at him, “I suppose he can't hate you any more than he already does.”

“Oh,” replied Azriel, with a casual glance into the distance behind them, “I wouldn't be too sure about that.”

They showered gold and greetings upon untold numbers of delighted field hands, travellers and beggars that day before finally stopping for the night in the corner of a field near a gurgling brook and a small copse of trees. It was well before dusk, and the men, women and children of the escort immediately set to work tethering the horses, collecting firewood, refilling the water skins, setting up the small, golden-tasselled royal tent and generally making the spot a camp fit for an esteemed royal princess.

Persephone sat off to one side with Rachel and Mateo, surveying the noisy, bustling scene with considerable concern.

“You're right to be worried about how little distance we covered today, of course,” agreed Rachel quietly, so as not to wake Mateo, who was sleeping with his head in her lap. “The problem is going to be getting Azriel to see reason. Though I'm sure he understands the need for haste, he is obviously having a difficult time reconciling this need with his concern that you travel in royal style.”

“Don't worry,” said Persephone as she leaned over to tuck a flapping piece of bandage behind Rachel's rather prominent ears. “I shall find a way to
make
him see reason.”

“I'm sure you will,” said Rachel, sucking in her cheeks to hide her smile.

Scowling at her doppelgänger's presumption, Persephone stood up, brushed off her dusty backside and looked around for Azriel that she might speak with him at once. Unfortunately, he was busy overseeing the final aspects of setting up camp. He continued to be busy throughout the evening—speaking at length with the men and women of the escort, teasing the boys, checking and rechecking the contents of the packs and panniers, ensuring that one and all had enough to eat. Though Persephone probably could have issued a royal command that he set aside other tasks and speak with her, she'd have felt exceedingly awkward doing so and wasn't sure that he'd have obeyed in any event.

Long after the sun had set and the stars in the night sky had begun to twinkle in earnest, as the boys lay sleeping in their bedrolls, and the men and women of the escort sat companionably chatting around the several fires that dotted the small camp, Azriel got up to check the horses one last time. Seeing her chance to corner him at last, Persephone jumped to her feet, grabbed Rachel by the hand and chased after him.

The two girls caught up with him as he was explaining to Fleet—for the umpteenth time, apparently—why he was not allowed to sleep in the royal tent. In response to these patient words of explanation, Fleet whinnied so abruptly and so shrilly that Azriel gave a startled shout. Resisting the urge to smile, Persephone gave Fleet a kiss on the nose before turning to Azriel and saying, “We need to talk.”

“All right,” he murmured, stepping close to her at once.

Since being near him in the darkness had always made Persephone a little dizzy, and since she hadn't expected him to respond to
her
nearness the way he once would have, she hurriedly stepped back and stammered, “Azriel, this situation is intolerable—”

“Is it the leper?” he interrupted in a low voice. “Do you want me to get rid of her?”

Rachel smothered a laugh. After shooting her friend a look that said she ought not to encourage Azriel's silliness, Persephone turned back to him and said, “I am speaking of the escort. Not only are they hampering our progress to an alarming degree, but have you even considered what your tribesmen are going to do when the lot of them come tramping through the secret tunnel beneath the waterfall? They nearly turned me into a bloody pincushion the first time I came through the tunnel, and I was but a lone intruder on a mission of mercy for one of their own!” Taking a deep breath, she clamped her hands around his sinewy biceps and gave him a little shake. “You must listen to me, Azriel,” she said, trying not to notice the heat of his skin beneath her fingers. “I know that you are probably still coming to terms with the fact I am a princess rather than a slave, and I appreciate that you are concerned for my comfort and safety, but I
insist
… no, I
beg
you to abandon the escort that we might proceed onward alone with all due haste.”

“All right,” murmured Azriel, slipping his hands to her waist in a way that suggested that he'd not only come to terms with the fact that she was a princess but had decided that he liked the idea very much indeed.

“What do you mean ‘all right'?” she squeaked, her face in flames at the feel of his strong arms around her and his massive codpiece against her belly.

Behind her, Rachel smothered another laugh.

Azriel let go of Persephone as unexpectedly as he'd embraced her. Taking an even
bigger
step away from her than she'd earlier taken away from him, he said, “I mean, all right, tomorrow at dawn, you, Rachel, Mateo and I will proceed onward alone with all due haste.”

Thrown by his suddenly conversational tone—as though he hadn't one instant earlier been holding her in his arms, whispering against her neck—Persephone swallowed hard and said, “But … but what about the escort?”

Azriel's smile flashed in the starlight, making her heart turn over.

“Wait and see about the escort,” he said.

The next morning Azriel roused Persephone well before dawn. Outside the tent, a chill wind whistled through the nearby trees.

“Time to rouse yourself, Princess,” he sang, giving her blankets a sharp tug.

“Don't call me that,” mumbled Persephone as she dragged the blankets back up over her head.

“Rachel is already up and changed into her new outfit,” continued Azriel as he flipped over the blankets at the foot of the bed and gave her toe a tweak.

With a yelp, Persephone bolted upright. Hurriedly tucking her feet up beyond the risk of further attack, she said, “Rachel has a new outfit?”

“Fear not, Princess, I have a new outfit for you, too,” assured Azriel as he deposited into her lap a limp pile of coarse cloth.

“What is this?” asked Persephone in dismay.

“Your new outfit,” said Azriel with a smile in his voice. “Hurry and change, for we shall soon lose the cover of darkness. When you are dressed, leave your fine princess things on the bed and come join me by the fire.”

Before Persephone could question his orders, he was gone, leaving her alone in the darkness to sort through the smelly pile, to wonder who he thought he was that he should give
her
orders—and to wonder why on earth she was following them.

At length, she managed to fumble into her new “outfit.” When she'd done so, she carefully transferred to the pocket of her shift the rusty fetters key, as well as the three treasures she kept with her always: the scrap of lace she'd torn from the hem of Cookie's apron the night she was dragged from the manor house, Faust's tail—which she'd hacked from his little corpse after the feral children of the mines had finished with him—and the auburn curl she'd cut from Azriel's head as he hung across Fleet's back dying of poison not so long ago. Then she tossed her fine princess things on the bed (all but the gifts that Finn had given her, which she had no intention of parting with
whatever
Azriel might presume to order) and ducked out of the tent.

Shivering, grumbling and hugging herself tight against the chill, Persephone hurried over to the nearest fire. A quick glance did not reveal Azriel; a second glance revealed him sitting practically at her feet. He was no longer wearing the embroidered velvet doublet and codpiece; instead, he was dressed like the other men in plain breeches and a hooded cloak. Next to him sat Rachel. She was no longer dressed as a leper, but was dressed instead like Persephone and the other women in a grubby shift and a knee-length robe with a long scarf that, in Rachel's case, was wrapped around her head to conceal every part of her face but her eyes. Mateo, who was sitting on Rachel's other side, was also wearing mean garments.

Nonplussed, Persephone plopped down beside Azriel. “Why are we dressed like this?” she asked as she accepted from him a pair of barely serviceable boots and a hunk of dark bread.

“So that we can proceed onward alone with all due haste,” he replied.

After gingerly pulling on the boots, Persephone tore off a piece of bread and crammed it into her mouth. “I don't see how setting aside our beautiful clothes is going to allow us to proceed onward alone with all due haste,” she said in a slightly garbled voice.

“Look around you, Princess,” replied Azriel, his blue eyes glowing in the reflected light of the flames. “What do you see?”

As she chewed and swallowed her bite of bread, Persephone looked around. At first, she saw nothing of note.

Then it dawned on her.

“Five men, ten women, five boys, fifteen horses and five dogs,” she said slowly. “All the men are dressed alike, all the women and boys are dressed alike. The horses are covered in identical hoods and long blankets; the dogs could be littermates. Split us into five groups, each containing one man, two women, one boy, three horses and one dog, and from a distance, it would be impossible to tell which group is which.”