Page 43 of Chained Knight

It was a consideration. She couldn’t even wonder about this Whispering thing yet; maybe it came after the Mere.

“My lady?” Hannixe, anxious now. “You seem troubled. Perhaps I should speak less.”

Oh, crap. “No, not at all. I like it. The men, they’re not very communicative.” Of course, being chased by big horned robots didn’t leave a lot of time for heart-to-hearts.

“In truth it is a relief to have my voice once more. I s-simply could not speak, with you gone. But now you are here, and it is…” The grey-haired woman tilted her head, beaming mistily in Ari’s direction; her voice had smoothed amazingly and the stutter was all but gone. “It is very good.”

Did Hannixe think Ari was amnesiac? No, because the queen had been murdered. Maybe it really was a reincarnation thing, or a succession—the King is dead, long live the King, or something similar? Was any mortal who fell through the door nominated for the position? But the chained man seemed to operate under the same assumptions, acting like no random passerby could have yanked the sword out of its yielding prison and also attributing drinkable pondwater to Ari personally.

They were all assigning an awful lot of competence and importance to a ‘stray mortal’ who was simply stumbling through increasingly outlandish scenarios, hoping not to trip too badly.

Whatever reply Ari might have made was lost in a coughing growl to the left; it sounded disturbingly close. Ari stiffened, and the white equine’s ears pricked.

“’Tis only akitha-cat hunting,” Hannixe soothed. “They will not dare attack mounted riders, especially with our prince nearby.”

That’s great. Still, Ari kept a sharp lookout. The landscape was pretty, certainly, but the reminder that she didn’t know even half the dangers here was a slap of icy water, as if she’d overslept on a day Wanda Lee had plans.

Their group contracted, the men’s equines pressing closer, and stayed that way as the red sun mounted higher. Hannixe pointed out other plants; their names slipped right through Ari’s head and vanished. The biggest question was what she was supposed to do at this Mere, followed closely by the sickening feeling that the Bright King might have something awful planned for whoever still resisted him. If Ari had any brain-cycles left over she could also wonder about those mortal doors, fairyland rules, and how she would get home.

Unless, of course, she didn’twantto. How reasonable was it to hope she could stay? No cop or judge would find her here—but the ‘faithless accursed’ and his robots, not to mention the ‘restless dead’, might.

There was never really any escape, Ariadne knew. Not for people like her.

A dark line lingered on the horizon for a long while, then crept steadily closer. Ari eyed this new development nervously, and was relieved when Hannixe let fall that it was forest, not some fun geographical feature like the Breach.

At the first short halt Ari watched as Hannixe dismounted and found, much to her relief, that she’d guessed how to perform the maneuver reasonably correctly. The Grey Lady clearlyexpected the Fox to assist her, but that also meant Ari had to half-fall from the white equine’s back into the chained man’s hands. Each time he caught her with no apparent effort and she landed soft as a whisper, but continued success didn’t make it less unnerving.

Especially considering the way his hands lingered on her waist before he stepped away.

The growling things weren’t the only inhabitants of the grasslands. Ari spotted bigger game, like long-legged brown animals shaped somewhere between mules and deer, browsing singly or in loose groups. Leaping not-antelopes moved in flocks like dolphins, their horns bright blue dabs and their tails white rabbity cottonpuffs. Birds suspiciously like hawks floated on thermals, the smaller brown or blue-and-white feathered things keeping close to the ground while predator-shadows drifted overhead.

The white-flowering bushes were joined by purple blooms bearing a resemblance to lupines, splashes of crimson near-poppies, tall spiky things akin to black sunflowers, and thistle-like spires with wicked prickles as well as seedpod burrs the size of her thumb.

It would suck to fall into a bed of those. So far there didn’t seem to be any poison ivy, so that was a blessing. But an occasional blurring buzz like rattlesnakes came from one side or the other, and each time it did Hannixe glanced in that direction with a look of mild concern until the noise faded.

Still, the stops were welcome. At least Ari didn’t seem to be developing blisters, and the white equine wasn’t upset at its rider’s lack of expertise.

“Too quiet.” Jazarl shook his head, waving aside the offered canteen. None of the guys seemed to want a drink, though Hannixe took a mouthful and Ari at least three gulps—not meaning to be greedy, but it tasted wonderful.

A dull faraway ache from unaccustomed exercise retreated under the cool flow. She could only imagine what it would feel like without the pondwater.

“Our enemy is no doubt watching the Road.” Keners squinted, staring into the distance; he accepted the canteen from Hannixe and capped it by touch, with an efficient twist. “He would not expect us to brave the Poisonwood from this angle.”

Poison wood? Nobody mentioned that bit before. Maybe it was a figure of speech, but she couldn’t be that lucky. Ari suppressed a shudder; Hannixe’s shoulder pressed against hers. The other woman seemed to find closeness comforting, and Ari had to admit she didn’t mind.

“He may have gathered forces to strike Gesthel.” Darjeth was keeping watch in another direction; his tone was soft, calculating. “Expecting us to bring our lady Moon to her handmaiden, and hoping to…” He trailed off, thoughtfully.

“We have done what we can to confuse the trail.” Alzarien pushed his hat up, rubbing at his forehead. The red tips to his eyebrows and lashes matched a shadow of stubble on cheeks and chin. “And no doubt the Fox left a few gifts in the village.”

“In the surrounding fields as well, as is my habit.” Keners shrugged. “The Golden are not particularly intelligent. Though stubborn, I shall grant them that.”

“Do you think perhaps the faithless accursed would leave the Mirrored City and ride for the village?” Sarle did not quite hunch defensively, but he did lean slightly back on his heels as the chained man’s gaze settled upon him. “It must be asked, my lord prince. He will want to… make certain, whether he intends to acquire or to…” The sentence petered out, and the stocky man looked away.

A thick, uncomfortable silence descended.

“Acquire?” Ari sounded small and deeply unnerved, even to herself.

“He declared himself king of the Underdark.” Majan’s hair ruffled as a breeze swept past, sighing in the grass; he replaced his hat with a swift habitual motion. “But as the Blight spread, he could not cleanse the Mere or bring those surviving of the Keep to his service without force and the contagion of his curst Law. The villagers left or were taken by infection; there is nothing for him to rule. Though treacherous, he is not stupid. Murder achieved him nothing; he may now seek instead to kidnap.”

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