Waking in Dreamland (47 page)

The snake surfaced briefly. Its eyes dimmed, and it broke into sections, each about the size of a train car, as the current carried it off. Once it was out of the way, Taboret could see heads bobbing up above the surface. She blew a gusty sigh of relief.

“Hide yourself, nitwit,” Maniune snarled behind her. She drew up a cloak of invisibility from the crucible, and continued scanning the silver expanse for other survivors.

Brom’s intelligence pushed at her mind, wanting to know more, to see more. She poked her head farther out of the brush. The pursuers’ steeds reverted to horses. They swam to the far bank and scrambled up onto the sand, where they shook themselves dry. Their human riders were less efficient at self-rescue. The current shot them in every which way against the banks, so they were widely separated. She couldn’t really tell how many there were.

“Hello?” asked a small voice, choked with water. “Is anyone there?”

Taboret looked down. A slender figure dressed in white clung dripping to the rocks almost immediately below them.

“Someone? If you are up there, please help me.”

Taboret gawked. It was Princess Leonora.

“Your Highness!” she shouted.

Taboret was appalled. She thought the princess was safely back on her way to Mnemosyne. She must not fall back into the river. She would drown.

“The princess?” Maniune hissed. “Grab her!”

Taboret pushed him out of the way and flattened herself on the muddy bluff. She held on with one hand to the branches while she extended the other arm down toward the princess. The twigs scratched her face. She spat out leaves.

“Your Highness, can you reach me?” she called. Her voice was distorted by an echo, but the young woman seemed to have understood. A hand appeared from amidst the wet draperies, and lengthened, stretching upward.

“Where are you?” Leonora’s voice cried. “I can’t see you.” Taboret dropped her invisible shield. She wrapped her strong fingers around the princess’s wrist, and pulled.

“I’m making myself as light as I can,” Leonora’s voice said plaintively.

“Help me,” Taboret gasped over her shoulders at the mercenaries. “Pull us back.”

Maniune and Acton took hold of her legs, and dragged her along the ground. Taboret tucked her free arm under the princess’s shoulders as soon as she could, and held her tight around the ribs as the two men hauled them to safety. Leonora crawled a couple of paces on her knees, and stopped, rubbing her elbows, which were battered and scraped. She sealed the wounds, and looked up at her rescuers.

“Thank the Sleepers for you,” she said, pushing back her wet black hair and wringing the water out of her clothes. “I wouldn’t have made it without help. Do you live nearby? I suppose most people live on the border. It is safer, isn’t it? My friends will be looking for me. Have you seen any of them?” Leonora looked up with a friendly expression, which abruptly turned to horror when she noticed Taboret’s blue-and-white summer tunic and pocket protector.

In a twinkling, she was on her feet and running away like a doe. Just as swiftly, Maniune and Acton had separated, headed her off and pushed her backwards into the bushes where she couldn’t escape.

“Not so fast, madam,” Maniune said, with a leer, leaning over her. “We’re happy to have you drop in for a visit.”

The girl stared at both of them, then took a deep breath, but before she could scream, Acton had clamped a hand over her mouth.

“Hah! This is even better than a trap,” Maniune said. “She’ll make a good hostage.” At that, Leonora started to change, becoming bigger and stronger. She intended to be no one’s hostage. Her clothes turned to leather armor, and a sword appeared in her hand. Taboret stared in admiration. Leonora had an astonishing amount of influence. In a moment, she would break free, and probably slay them all. Maniune rounded on Taboret, who ran up to help her.

“Control her, damn you! Shut her up!” the mercenary growled. “Take that blasted sword away. Now! Or you know what’s coming to you.”

Or into the hole, Taboret knew. Much against her will, she sent a wave of gestalt power at Leonora. The sword melted away into air, and the fist holding it dwindled into a small, lady-like hand once more. Leonora stood struggling in the hands of her captors, looking tiny, ethereal, beautiful, and delicate in the huge surcote, and furiously angry. The men seized her wrists. With a snap of her head, she changed her clothes back to the regal white robes, and glared at Taboret. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out.

“I’m sorry,” Taboret said, wishing she could explain. “I can’t let you yell. I have to do what they say, or else. They won’t hurt you, I promise.” Leonora turned up her nose and looked away. Taboret felt like a traitor.

“Come on,” Maniune said. Leonora didn’t move, so he dug in his heels, stooped, and hoisted her over his shoulder. The princess kicked and punched at him as best she could upside down. He ignored the attacks. Thanks to Taboret she wasn’t strong enough to hurt him. “Master Brom will be very pleased with us.”

Behind her, Taboret could still hear voices calling to one another, and shouting out the princess’s name. With a heavy heart, she followed the two men up the bank.

Roan stood on the top of the bluff above the empty pilings of the ruined bridge with his hands cupped around his mouth. “Leonora!” He bent his head to listen, but heard only the echo of his own cry. There was no answer.

It had been hours since they had climbed out of the river. Within a short time, everybody else had been found safe, if bruised and shaken. Golden Schwinn had turned up, saddle empty, but Leonora had not followed her horse. Devastated, Roan had run from village to village on the footpath along both sides along the gap, asking if anyone had seen her. No one had. Worried people from every town had come out to help in the search. They roamed both banks, calling.

“Leonora!” he shouted, huskily. He was growing hoarse. The worst of it was that he blamed himself. Why hadn’t he made her go home to Mnemosyne as soon as she turned up in the desert with the steeds? Why had he allowed her to come along on what he knew would be a dangerous journey? It was all his fault. He had no idea if the snake had eaten her, or if she had drowned in the river current, or if she had come out ahead of them, and was waiting somewhere, wondering where they were. He hoped it was the latter. Roan had no idea how he would break the news to the king of his daughter’s disappearance. He’d probably be ordered to discontinue. If he was responsible for Leonora’s death, he’d do that anyhow.

She had come back to him after Reverie, only to be lost again. This was
precisely
what he had feared from the beginning.

When Bergold had fallen from the bridge fleeing from the snake, he’d become a seal. In that form he had spent the last hours diving and swimming, searching the water for traces. Roan hadn’t seen him in some time, and wondered if he had found anything. He scanned the river again.

“Leonora!” he shouted. The echo of his call skipped across the water.

“She’s not down there,” Bergold’s voice said. Roan turned to look into the seal’s sympathetic brown eyes. “I saw no traces of blood or fabric. There’s no evidence at all of anything ill having occurred, lad. She’ll undoubtedly turn up farther down river, and somebody will see to it that she gets home. She’s more resilient than you think.” His black whiskers lifted in a ghost of his usual cheery grin, and Roan knew Bergold was as worried as he. “You’ll see. We’ll get back to Mnemosyne, and she will meet us at the very gates, demanding all the details before we’re even off our bikes.” He blew out his cheeks, and shook his sleek head, spraying water in a broad arc.

“She’s spirited, I’ve always said it,” Spar put in gruffly. His eyes were red, and the lines framing his mouth were engraved deep. “Never give up.”

Colenna laid a kindly hand on his shoulder. “You can’t kill an ideal, Roan.”

“We’d better go on,” Roan said, at last. “We must complete our mission to save the Dreamland, no matter what. Leonora would want us to. But I want to leave someone behind, in case she finds her way back to this point. If she does return . . . here,” he added, a little less certainly, “then take her back to the palace immediately. I won’t risk her again.”

“Alette, Hutchings,” Spar ordered. “Your assignment. Keep the search going. One of you remains on duty here at all times.”

“Yes, sir,” the guards said in unison, standing at attention.

Golden Schwinn squeaked piteously, and Cruiser leaned against her and rubbed front tires. Everyone was upset. They all wanted to say something to Roan, but when they met his eyes, they fell silent. Too devastated to speak, Roan mounted, and led the way up the headland. They rode along the rails several hundred yards downhill until they came to the point where the main road crossed overhead. Lum spurred his bike upward and scanned their surroundings as the others walked their steeds up the sharp incline and came level with him. The young corporal’s brows drew down as his gaze fixed on something to the right, and he jumped forward to pick it up.

“Look at this,” he said, holding out a handful of dried flowers. Roan took it from him. It was the daisy chain Leonora kept in her locket. There was no mistaking it.

“That’s hers,” he said, definitely. He tucked it very carefully into his watch pocket. It was one of her treasures. She’d want it back.

“She had to be out of the water to drop it here,” Bergold cheered. “She’s alive! I told you so, my boy.”

Roan smiled. The ton weight on his heart fell away. He looked around. “But where did she go? She ought to be waiting here for us.”

“Probably started walking,” Felan said. “We’ve got her steed. We’ll catch up with her in no time.”

“Which way?” Colenna asked.

“There’s no prints on this road to show,” Lum said.

“But she had to come up here from somewhere,” Roan said. “Help me find the place. We’ll trace her steps back. There must be a clue.”

Spar called his guards back. With renewed hope, everyone began to search the edge of the road. It was Misha who found the torn clump of grass at the edge of the bluff, and Hutchings a patch of gravel that showed signs of having been disturbed.

“Here!” he shouted. Lum came running to investigate.

“This is it, sir,” he said. “I see footprints. Right there!”

“Are they Leonora’s?” Roan asked.

The corporal sprang off his steed and knelt on the ground in the tangle of weeds. He looked up and his face was shining. “It looks like the shoes she was wearing today, sir. Flat bottoms and just a short heel. They were very wet, sir, but they’re pretty clear. She came up out of the water there.” Lum pointed at a spot at the edge of the bluff where the weeds were tangled and torn.

Colenna clutched her hands to her heart. “She’s all right, then? Where is she?”

“Those aren’t a woman’s prints,” Spar growled, pointing at other marks in the rough, sandy soil.

“No, sir,” Lum said. “They’re riding boots. A big man’s. It looks like he helped pull her up. There’s signs of some active movement, then the woman’s prints stop. Must be carrying her.”

“Heavens,” Colenna said, alarmed. “I hope she’s all right.”

“There’s a lot of footprints. Might be more than one other person, but it’s hard to tell.” Lum walked along hunched over, reading the signs. Roan followed him, his heart full of hope. “The prints end at the surfaced road, of course, sir.”

Bergold smacked one flipper into another. “That messenger, Osprey. He must have caught up with us. Depend upon it, he discovered her prank and came after her to complete his assignment. He must have carried her to his vehicle. There you are, lad. She’s been carried off to the capital, just as we hoped.”

Roan was still troubled. “Why didn’t she leave us a message?” he asked. “Why throw out the daisy chain? If the Night has taken her, she would have had time to write a proper note and pin it to a tree.”

Bergold rolled an amused eye. “She gave him the slip the last time he let her have a moment alone, didn’t she? He probably took off at once so she wouldn’t do it again. That beast of his can fly, can’t it?”

“Yes, it can,” Roan said, relieved. His sense of purpose came flooding back. “So, she’s going home. Thank the Sleepers. I will borrow some of your writing materials later, Felan, so we can send her reassurances that the rest of us are all right.”

“Of course,” Felan said. He had a thoughtful look on his face as they helped boost Bergold into his saddle. The steed had obligingly become a broad-backed donkey, wide enough to carry the seal comfortably. “Roan, I’m happy for you.”

“Thank you, my friend,” Roan said, touched. “Now, let’s get back on the trail of the Alarm Clock.”

Lum swung onto his steed. “That way, sir,” he said.

The distortion had fused the road into a shiny, curved, glass ribbon that made it difficult for the steeds to keep their balance. They went single file slowly along the center with Lum at the lead. Within a few hundred yards, the young corporal let out a wordless exclamation, and held up his hand to signal the others to halt.

He jumped off his steed, and tottered unsteadily to pick something off the road. He brought it back to Roan.

“Is this hers, too?” he asked. It was the miniature portrait of the King and Queen. Roan frowned over it.

“Yes, it is. She keeps it in her locket.”

“Well, well,” Bergold honked. “It’s another sign she came this way. She’s leaving us breadcrumbs to help us follow the trail.”

“But she would never throw this away so casually,” Roan said, growing more worried. A little farther along, Lum picked up a blue silk scarf that Roan had also seen in Leonora’s possession. And a bottle of perfume, her favorite scent. The conclusion that she had gone along willingly with her rescuer diminished in likeliness with every new discovery.

“She’s in danger,” Roan said, touching the pocket where he had stowed the small treasures as if he could feel her thoughts through them. “She’s dropping these things to let us know she’s in trouble. She doesn’t dare to do anything more open, such as making these into SOS messages.”

“Nonsense,” Felan said. “She’s left that locket open, that’s all. It probably broke when she climbed up the riverbank, and she’s spilling things out without knowing.”