by Shannon Hale
Chapter 18
Gilsa gave them each the good-luck kiss of a widow, and they took to the path. The air was clear and smelled of new, growing things. Ani listened to the breezes and all their news of spring and chose to feel confident. The men would not let her shoulder a pack, so she walked easily, if more slowly than before.
They spent two nights under the Forest canopy before they reached the thinning trees of the near-city. There Ani and Talone waited while Finn, his mind full of careful descriptions, crept ahead to scout the gate and main way for any sign of Ungolad’s men. He returned some time later convinced of safety. Ani felt the city winds confirm this, their image-speech vacant of pale-haired men, and they moved on.
It was not a marketday week, and the traffic through the gate was sparse. She felt exposed entering the gate past the giant stone posts, two great sentinels on either side gazing down at her with their stony suspicion. No one hindered their course.
The wide avenue was bedecked in celebration of the impending wedding. The trunks of the tall oaks that lined the avenue were wrapped in paper—yellow, blue, orange, and white, like thick-bodied women dressed for spring. Above them, long ribbons bridged the open sky, converting the oak tops into arches. The party walked long beneath them, the straight shadows enveloping them and dismissing them again and again, a repetition steady as the beating of a sorcerer’s drum. In market-square, there were more papered ornaments than people. The entire city was quiet and brilliantly colored. Ani thought it eerie and sad, like a resplendent bird that had lost its song. Everything trembled with tension and expectancy.
Ani led them through narrow streets, avoiding main ways. They reached the west city wall and followed it a distance to the workers’ settlements. The low buildings crouched against the wall like a street cat hunting in the shadow. The sun was still high in the west, and the sky was full blue; the workers would still be in the pastures and stalls, gleaning the last bits of sunlight, letting their charges recover from winter and relish the green, sprouting things that were erupting from the fields. Grass burst between the cobblestones under her feet. Spring was breaking, even in the city.
When they arrived at Ideca’s yellow house, Talone insisted on entering first. He paused on the threshold and said, “Princess, the room is full.”
Ani stepped up beside him and saw all the workers at the benches or on the stones by the hearth.
“Isi.” Enna jumped from her seat and ran to the door. Ani motioned to Talone that it was all right, and he stepped aside, sheathing his sword. Others followed Enna’s lead, and soon half the hall was embracing her and congratulating her on being alive. Some touched her with a reverence and uncertainty that made Ani turn to Enna with a quizzical look.
“I told them,” said Enna. “I’m sorry. It seemed right at the time. I’m just so relieved that you escaped. I saw you running away that night, and I was so scared. Your geese woke half the settlement, and we went after you. I had to tell them why you were running and who was chasing. But you both disappeared into the woods, and Isi, you don’t know how crazy we’ve been all these days with no idea what happened.”
“The geese that were in my room that night . . .”
“They’re fine,” said Enna. “I think that braided man kicked the gander, but he’s a hardy one.”
“He is,” said Ani.
“So, goose girl,” said Razo, shouldering past others to stand by Enna, “you’re really a princess?”
“The genuine yellow girl,” she said.
He smiled at her and lightly punched her arm. The rest stayed back, watching her as though she were a strange bird with large, unpredictable wings.
She introduced Talone and Finn to the workers, and they all tried to introduce themselves back at once, shouting their names over one another. Ani cut through the commotion, asking why they were all in the hall when the weather was good.
“It’s holiday week, for the prince’s wedding,” said Sifrid.
“When?” said Ani.
“Two days,” said Ideca, speaking for the first time. She squinted at Ani. “You’re that yellow girl after all? Then you’d best hurry, goose girl, because you’ve got until three tomorrows. Humph, imagine marrying a murderess. She’ll cut his throat in their marriage bed.”
“Or murder enough of Kildenree to cover up what she’s done,” said Enna.
“The army’s marched,” said Sifrid. “They left last week by the main gate. There was a celebration. The war’s not a secret anymore.”
Enna’s expression brightened with a thought. “After you left, we had Tatto slip messages under the king’s door. Anonymous. Saying that the princess was a fraud and so were the tales of Kildenrean war plans. I don’t know if they got to him, or if he believed them, but we tried.”
Those who had not heard of the letters to the king began to ask questions, and for a moment the hall blazed with talk. Ani looked around and saw Conrad seated in the corner, his hands in his hair. She crossed to him, loosed a strand of hair from under her scarf, and plucked it.
“Conrad, I’m sorry.” He shrugged, and she sat beside him. “You were right about who I was, and I lied because I was scared.”
She handed him the long, pale hair, and he took it and rubbed it between his fingers.
“I told those foreign guards where you were.” He looked up, and she saw that his chin was trembling. “I wanted them to find you. But I didn’t know they would try to kill you. I swear I didn’t know.”
“It’s all right,” she said. “That part’s over now.”
Conrad glanced down at the hair and came close to a smile. “I really wanted to yank one of these from your head, but you got witchy on me. And now you’re a princess. Who’d’ve thought?”
Ani stood and turned to the workers, who stood by in silence. “I don’t understand something. I lied to you all before. Why do you believe me now, when I say I’m the princess?”
Enna gave a frank smile. “Because we know you.”
Then everyone seemed to answer at once. “Yeah,” said Bettin, “you’re our goose girl.”
“You’re the yellow girl,” said Conrad, turning to grin at the boy next to him.
“You’re Isi,” said Razo.
Enna touched her sleeve. “You’re Ani.”
Ani smiled and looked down, her eyes wet.
“Yeah, what do we call you now?” said Razo.
Ani shrugged. “Whatever you want, Razo.”
Someone whispered, “Well, I’m not calling her Isi or Ani. She’s a princess now.”
Enna realized that they had been walking since dawn, and soon the three travelers sat to some warmed stew and nearly fresh bread. Ideca served them herself. Ani noticed that her bowl held more stew than usual. She was nervous, both to ask the workers for help and to face the Kildenreans again, but she bade her stomach be still and tried to eat quickly.
While they ate, several workers approached Finn. Some recognized him from marketweek, and they asked where he was from and what he sold. Finn answered their questions and surprised Ani by seeming pleased at the attention, particularly from Enna. He was more interested in what she had to say than in his food and did not flinch when she touched his shoulder in passing.
Before Ani had finished her bowl, she noticed that many of the workers were fetching crooks and staffs and putting on hats, while others patted their backs and spoke low things in their ears.
“What’s going on?” said Ani.
“We’re going with you, Isi, er, my lady.” Razo pushed out his chest and held his staff in front of him with both hands. “We’re your working guard, in the peace-keeper tradition, unpaid and unasked but ready with a quarterstaff, or a crook, at least.”
Ani stood. “We came back here to beg your help, and before I even ask you’re waiting for me at the door.”
“Don’t look so surprised,” said Enna. “You should know by now that the Forest grows ’em loyal. Does a pine kick a bird out of its limbs or the moss off its bark?”<
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“Am I the moss on your bark, then?” said Ani.
Enna grabbed her around her waist and shook her affectionately. “You’re the mossiest girl I know.”
“Thank you, thank you for being willing. But before you come, I need you to know the danger. The group of Kildenreans and the false princess massacred over twenty of their countrymen. This isn’t a game.”
“Well, we’re still going to play it,” said Beier.
“Clearly we’re going with you,” said Enna. “What kind of Forest folk would we be?”
“But—” said Ani.
Enna held up her hands in defense. “Isi, I know you’re worried someone’ll get hurt and it’ll be your fault. Don’t. We know there’s danger. We may be Forest folk, but we’re still Bayern, and we won’t back down from a fight.”
A few workers stomped their staffs on the floor, and someone shouted, “For Bayern!”
Ani laughed, stuttered, and finally said, “Thank you.”
Talone nodded and stepped forward. “Good, then. Listen here.” The attention turned to him, and some boys straightened up and stuck out their chests as though they were regular soldiers at attention. “The impostor’s guards will want to slay us before we can enter the palace. Your duty is to guard the princess. Do not fight unless they attack you, and do not leave her side. Our goal is to reach the king. It is good that we are many. With just three of us, they might have tried to pull us aside and slit our throats before the king hears our story.”
“The storytelling’ll be my job,” said Ani. “If the king doesn’t believe me, you are to come back here, and don’t make a scene. I’d like you to live through this.”
Enna turned to her. “I’m not going to leave you alone. I said I wouldn’t.”
“I’m serious, Enna. If he doesn’t believe me, it’ll do no good.”
“We’ll see,” she said.
Ani opened her mouth to argue, but Talone touched her elbow. “Princess,” he said.
She nodded. “For those of you willing, it’s time to go.”
Ani led the procession. Going before the crook- and staff-bearing mob in her leaf green clothes and leaf green headscarf, she felt more the harbinger of spring than commander or princess. The small army of skinny beast-keepers in unpolished boots gripped their crooks and looked about with anxious pride. Talone carried his sword, his eyes the color of steel, his hair flecked with gray, his figure stolid as though he had emerged from the city’s stone walls. He strode beside Ani and watched the streets as cautiously as he had ever attended the east gate of the White Stone Palace. No one spoke. She felt the weight of their lives like the pressure of a wind at her back. She was neither queen nor general, but they followed her.
A wall ringed the palace, its tops fanged with iron spikes, its stones charred by ancient battles. The palace gates were open; it seemed the king did not fear invasion while his army invaded. Ten guards stood at attention when Ani’s group approached, eyeing the staffs that they carried like weapons and their number, thirty youths and a man who despite his worn clothing had the gait and mien of a warrior.
“We’re here to see the king,” said Ani.
The guard in front shook his head. “Can’t.”
“This is about the war. We’ve discovered information that’s essential before the invasion of Kildenree. We insist you let us pass, or at least send word directly to the king.”
“Can’t do it,” said the guard. “Not the first, not the other. You’re going to have to leave.”
She wished, not for the first time, that she had been born with the gift of people-speaking. Ani was sure that Selia could have gotten past those guards with a few seductive words. Ani saw Talone grip the hilt of his sword. There had to be a way to get to the king without drawing weapons. She would not kill palace guards or allow the workers to risk themselves in a vain brawl.
“Please,” she said, addressing all the guards that blocked the gateway. “Any of you. Just send him a message. We have to speak to the king.”
“Can’t be done,” said the guard.
A breeze tickled Ani’s ear, suggesting a way through. She shook her head. A wind like the one that had formed on the goose pasture against Ungolad might blow down a few guards, but there would be more to take their place. After a display like that, she would find herself trapped in a cell below the palace, listening to the winds trickle through the bars to bring news of death in Kildenree.
“Then at least tell me this—”
“Can’t tell you anything, either,” said the guard.
“Who’s that with the Forest accent and all the can’ts?” A worker stepped forward from the middle of the mob. He was Offo, one of the older sheep boys, and had never spoken a word to Ani. She had wondered why he accompanied her now and assumed his Bayern restlessness was lured by the idea of a fight. With a mild dread, she waited to hear what Offo would say.
“Is that Ratger? Look at that, Beier, it’s Ratger, our pig boy of late.”
Beier nodded his shaggy head and kept his expressions smooth and disinterested. “I heard his brother married a city girl and the pig boy moved in with them, got civilized and given a javelin and shield at wintermoon near three years ago. All grown up and guarding the gate now. Too high for us.”
“Oh, shut it, Beier,” said the guard Ratger, “I got to do my job. If some merchant-faced velvet-wearer comes down to your field and says, ‘Give me a pig, please,’ you’d tell him to shove coal in his mouth and swallow hard.”
“And if he’s an old friend and asks me real nice to give a message to the pig, I’d do it with a smile.” Offo’s lips curled up in an exaggerated smile, revealing teeth large and square like a mule’s. Ratger rolled his eyes and stomped his feet twice in irritation. He no longer seemed the stoic guard.
“Play along here, Ratger,” said Razo. He stepped up with a straight spine and extended neck, pleading every inch out of his short frame. “You know, this’s the goose girl what defended her flock from five muscle thieves—alone. You ever do anything like that? The king wanted to honor her, you know, and he won’t be real pleased to hear you’ve stopped her at his gate as though she were the thief and you full of airs.”
Ratger glanced back at Offo’s mock smile and sighed. “Quit your grinning, Offo. I can’t take you to the king. And I can’t deliver a message. He isn’t even here. They’re all gone, marched with the army, off to marry the prince somewhere.”
“Where?” said Ani.
“I don’t know.” Ratger spoke with sarcasm thick as maple sap. “Somehow the prince forgot to invite me to his wedding.”
“Tatto!” Enna pointed to the far side of the palace courtyard, where the young page was ambling in the afternoon shade, swinging an empty errand basket.
“Tatto!” shouted Ani through the shoulders of the guards. He turned to see the workers’ mob all staring at him through the gate of bodies and loped to them with a smile.
“Come to see me?” he said.
“To see the king, you nit,” said Enna. “Where is he?”
“I don’t know, but not because I’m just an apprentice page, but because no one really knows, except it’s probably at some country house grand enough for a wedding and on the way to war. I guess they don’t want a lot of uninvited guests showing up.” He eyed them sharply, letting them know that they were uninvited as well.
“I need your help,” said Ani, “so stay put for a minute.”
He folded his arms and looked up at her. “Are you really what they all”—he waved a hand at the jam of workers—“say you are?”
“I am,” said Ani.
“I thought so. I told my da, ‘She wouldn’t see the king. She’s hiding something, that goose girl with her broken staff and her hat and her goose talk and her pretty hands.’” Tatto blushed suddenly and looked down.
“Ratger, are you under orders not to tell me anything?” said Ani.
Ratger glanced briefly at Offo and then back at Ani. “No, I guess not.”
“Then can you tell me the name of the prime minister?”
“Thiaddag,” said Ratger.
“Right. But there was one I met about six years ago when he traveled to Kildenree. Is he still alive?”
“That would be Odaccar,” said one of the guards. “He’s retired, got old suddenly, sick or something.”
“That’s right,” said Ratger. “He’s in the severance quarters, over the carriage houses.”
“Ah,” said Ani, beginning to feel some relief. “Tatto, I need you to be quick. Go to Odaccar. Tell him who I am, tell him I’m waiting here at the gate for permission to pass and see him.” She turned to Ratger. “And if he calls for me, it’s all right that I pass?” The guard nodded his assent, and Tatto ran off.
When he returned, the guards let Ani, Talone, Finn, and Enna through the gate. The others they insisted remain behind, to display their power as guards, Ani thought, and to get answers. She had gone only a few steps into the courtyard when she heard Ratger say, “Now, Offo, who is she?”
Tatto led the four to the inner courtyard by following the outer wall, insisting that taking them through the palace would mess up the floor polish, and then up the stairs of the carriage houses. The long white corridor was lined with unadorned pine doors, most of them opened, revealing small, clean bedrooms. In each room’s one chair sat dim-faced hall-servants, hall-mistresses, and chamber-lords, retired servants of high degree, staring out the single window at the inactive courtyard. Their hair was white as mourning clothes and eyes often expressionless, watching for death. One woman turned as they passed her door, and Ani nodded. The woman turned back to her window.
Near the end of the corridor they found the former prime minister’s apartment. He, too, sat in his chair and stared at his windowpane, but when he turned to the noise at his door, thoughtfulness announced itself in the lines on his brow, and his eyes were full of curiosity. She remembered first hearing the Bayern accent from his mouth, how his words had seemed stitched together, one following the other in seamless succession. She had loved the sound. She checked herself now, making sure she addressed him in her Kildenrean accent.
