by Peter David
“They never liked me, you know,” she said with sullen petulance. “If they had, they’d never have sent me away.”
“All parents have to do what they think is best for their child.”
“Would you have done it?” There was both curiosity and challenge in her voice.
The easy, facile answer would have been to say no, protesting that she was much too charming to do such a thing. But she’d see right through that, and it had suddenly become of great interest to me to court the princess’s genuine affections. Whenever my resolve wavered from that, I’d picture the helpless Morningstar riding into battle and that would help me back onto the correct path.
“You are speaking to one,” I said slowly, “who never knew the normal trappings of father and mother. My father, as you know, died before I was born” (the story that I had given her to cover the truth of my origins) “and my mother worked such long and hard hours that she rarely was able to give me any attention. And then she was taken from me. Because of that, I would never want to—in any respect—deprive any child of mine of the immediacy and relationships that I was never able to have. So, no, I would not send you away. Perhaps that makes me selfish …”
“No, no, not at all. It makes you a good father.”
“It reflects my own upbringing, is all. Frequently, Highness, that’s all one sees in one’s parents: how they themselves were raised. For all you know, your father and mother were likewise sent away, or by other means kept distanced from their parents. For them, what they did was simple normal behavior. On that basis, it would be no more fair to condemn them for their actions than it would to accuse a bear of laziness because it sleeps away the winter. It simply does what comes naturally.”
She nodded thoughtfully, processing the notions. I, in the meantime, continued to let my common sense war with my ambition …
“Apropos …” and she reached over and took my hand, reining her Heffer to a stop. “Thank you. Maybe you’re right. Maybe … you’re actually providing a reason for me not to hate my parents. And that’s not a bad thing to have at all.”
I squeezed her hand tightly, returning the gesture …
… and she started to pull me toward her, clearly intending to kiss me.
And as I was faced with this outward, physical display of her affection, an entirely new dynamic entered my mind. I automatically flinched back, and she knew it. I saw the disappointment, the surprise, and even the faintest flutter of anger in her eyes.
The problem was, I knew where it was going to lead. One kiss becomes a second, then a third and so on, and the next thing you know, clothes are everywhere and other parts of you are places they shouldn’t be. Places where, I was reasonably sure, Tacit had already been.
That’s what it came down to, really. It had taken me a while to realize it, but that was the truth of it. If matters went in that direction, if we became engaged, married, well … sooner or later, I’d have to make love to her. And if I made love to her … she would compare me to Tacit. It was only inevitable. And there was no question in my mind that, as in all things except the one time I caught him totally by surprise, I would come up short in measuring up … so to speak. She would hold me up against his performance, find me lacking, lose all respect for me …
None of which I could say to her, of course. But I had to say something, and fast, because I had a hurt and angry princess on my hands, and such a creature is wildly unpredictable. And here, entering a somewhat mountainous and potentially treacherous region of the Outer Lawless realm, I didn’t need unpredictability at my side. It could get us both killed.
“Highness … as flattered as I am … it … it wouldn’t be right.”
“Why wouldn’t it,” she said, sounding quite icy.
“Because,” I said, sounding as reasonable as I could, “anything you might be feeling for me, Princess … might be from the intensity of the moment. Unusual alliances, such as what we have forged, cause all sorts of emotions to become more … heightened … than they ordinarily would be. They give rise to feelings that would not be there if circumstances were more normal. For me to take advantage of what you might be feeling for me right now … it wouldn’t be right. The impulses might not be genuine. Once we are to safety and you can think rationally … then we shall see what’s what. I wouldn’t want to risk taking advantage of you …” and then, as a masterstroke of inspiration, I added, “as others may have, finding you vulnerable and saddened.”
A direct hit. A perfect score. Her eyes widened and she nodded in understanding, and I knew exactly what was going through her mind because I, Apropos, master of subtlety, had planted it there. She was starting to wonder whether her involvement with Tacit had truly been the grand romantic adventure she had thought it was … or whether he was simply taking advantage of her. And if he was … while here, Apropos was refusing to do so … how noble did that make Apropos, and how much of a cad did that make Tacit? Apropos, who had been here and come through for her, and Tacit who hadn’t? My mind soared with joy.
And that was when it hit me.
It wasn’t anything bad, actually; in fact, it was very surprising. It was a gust of warm air, so unexpected and so out of place that its sudden appearance struck me almost like the blow of a hammer.
What was even the more surprising was that the general area we were in was somewhat colder than before, probably because the road was going on a steady upward slope, which meant we were going higher, where altitude was less and the air was chillier. In the near distance I could see mountain peaks, thick with snow. So a sudden gust of warm air truly seemed to come from nowhere.
I pulled out the map that Dotty had provided us. The fortress at Terracote truly didn’t seem all that far … another few days at most. However, it was going to become more difficult before it became easier, because I saw more mountains dotting the path. They seem to be fairly low by comparison to others on the same map, but it still was going to be an effort. So I certainly didn’t want us to become distracted by things that were off the path.
Yet that was what was happening, because Entipy felt the same gusting warmth that I did. “Is it from a spring, do you think?” she asked. “Or some sort of sulfur caves?”
“For all I know they left the door to hell ajar. Whatever it is, it’s none of our concern.” Even as I spoke, though, I felt another wafting of warm air and, more, the whiff of lilacs. I hadn’t a clue to what was going on.
The Heffers, though, did not seem pleased. They whinnied uncertainly, and mine started to back up slightly.
Entipy, however, would have none of it. “I want to see what’s causing that. If it’s a warmer path than through the mountains, we should take it.”
I looked at the wall of trees which was lining the edge of the road. There were no leaves upon them, but instead thick green needles … not sharp, but enough so that we couldn’t have a clear vision of what lay past them. “There’s no path here to take,” I said in what I hoped was my most reasonable manner.
She didn’t reply. Instead she dug her heels into the sides of the Heffer and urged it off the road. “Princess!” I said in annoyance, but she ignored me. The Heffer made one more noise of protest and then reluctantly went where it was led.
My own Heffer angled its head around at me and seemed to look me in the eyes as if to say, You’re not thinking about going in there, too, are you? But I had no real choice. I couldn’t let the little fool just wander off by herself. So with a resigned sigh I snapped the reins and guided my own beast off the path as well.
Fortunately enough, Heffers were even more surefooted than ordinary horses, so I wasn’t all that concerned about riding one off the beaten path. I would not have essayed a gallop, of course, because that would likely have resulted in a broken leg in short order.
At first their hooves crunched through the thin layer of ice and snow on the ground, but then I realized that the crunching noise had stopped. The reason was quickly obvious: The ice was gone. The air was getting w
armer the farther we went. A few minutes ago there had been mist coming out of our mouths when we spoke, but now there was nothing. And the aroma of lilacs was becoming stronger than ever.
Entipy kept glancing at me, clearly puzzled, apparently hoping that I would come up with an explanation. But I just shook my head, as bemused as she was.
The going was becoming increasingly easy, the trees thinning out. It was as if we were literally crossing seasonal lines, traveling directly from winter into spring, with summer a few yards ahead. The Heffers, however, were becoming increasingly agitated. They slowed to a crawl, and all the rein snapping on both of our parts was not getting them to move any faster. “What’s wrong with them!” Entipy demanded in frustration. “Stupid animals! Don’t they want to go where it’s warm?” And she dug her heels into the belly of her Heffer, who didn’t seem particularly pleased by the gesture.
“I’m getting the impression they don’t,” I said, “and I’m starting to wonder if they know something we don’t.”
“How could they? They’re just dumb animals.”
“Animals can sometimes sense problems before humans. I think we’d better go back.”
“Why?”
“Because my horse isn’t going forward.”
And it was true. The Heffer had come to a complete halt. No matter how much I urged it to do so, it wasn’t budging. As a matter of fact, it was trying to back up. Entipy was in the same bind, her horse not moving an inch. Not taking to this particular development in the least, Entipy dismounted, grabbed up the reins, and tried to pull the horse forward. She shouted at it, informing the horse just exactly who she was and precisely the kind of trouble it was going to get in if it ignored the royal decrees of a princess.
The Heffer suddenly let out an ear-curdling cry of protest and reared up, thrashing the air with its front hooves. That was about all the warning I had before my horse did likewise. Unlike Entipy, however, I was still on its back. I tried to hold on, but I had no chance, and I tumbled backward off the horse. As I fell I snagged the saddlebag, more for the purpose of trying to hold on than anything else, but the saddlebag tore free and went with me to the ground. “Stop them!” Entipy shouted, as if I were remotely in any sort of position to impose my will on two bucking horses. I lay stunned on the forest floor, and suddenly I saw the Heffer’s hooves pounding straight toward my head. Sheer panic galvanized me and I rolled out of the way just as the beast pounded past me. Its associate followed directly behind it, ignoring the princess’s shouted curses and threats.
“What’s got into them?!” she cried out. She looked down at me as I lay there, gasping at how close I had just come to being a splotch on their hooves. “Are you all right?” she inquired, sounding vaguely solicitous.
“Ohhh … fine,” I managed to say. I sat up slowly and looked behind us. There was already no sign of the horses. “Wonderful,” I muttered, and then turned just in time to see Entipy heading not back after the Heffers but forward toward whatever the hell had just sent them dashing in the other direction. “Are you daft?!” I called after her. “Where do you think you’re going!”
“I want to see what caused them to run off,” she replied. “If we’re going to lose the horses over it …”
“We’re not going to lose anything of the kind,” I protested, using a tree to pull myself up. I picked up the saddlebag, breathing a sigh of relief; the majority of the riches I’d taken from Astel were in there. I redid the straps and tied it off around my waist. Between the jewels and the sword I still had strapped to my back, I was getting a bit loaded down. “We’ll go back out to the road. They’re probably waiting for us there.”
“Or they’ve run away. Besides, I want to see what’s up there.”
“No, you don’t, and I’m going back for the horses.”
“Fine. You do that.” And without another word she turned on her heel and set out in the opposite direction from where I wanted to go.
I muttered a string of profanities under my breath as I started to head back to the road. I got about twenty feet and then envisioned what it would be like to face King Runcible at the fort and inform him that the last time I’d seen his little girl, she’d stomped off on her own into a forest and I’d done nothing to stop her. Immediately after that, the next thing I’d likely see would be a headsman’s axe. With a moan I turned around and started off after Entipy.
She wasn’t difficult to follow, leaving a trail that a blind man could track. The warmth had evened off, fortunately, because if it had kept up, the weather around me would have become positively scalding. “Entipy!” I called up ahead, hoping to get her to slow down since, even moving as fast as I could, my lame leg was slowing me up. “Entipy! Get back here! This is madness!”
I saw Entipy just ahead, standing on what appeared to be a ridge. Apparently there was a valley of some sort just ahead. “Entipy!” I called to her. “Enough games! Enough foolishness! It’s time to—!”
She turned to look at me, and I stopped where I was, taken aback at the sheer wonderment in her eyes. It wasn’t me she was reacting to, that was for sure. She saw something in the valley ahead that had completely stunned her. Cautious and uncertain, I made my way up the narrow incline until I was by her side, and then looked where she was looking, the smell of lilacs so thick in my nostrils that it was almost suffocating.
I gasped. You would have, too.
Unicorns.
Not a couple. Not a handful. A herd.
In the near distance, snow-covered mountains towered. But here, in this valley, it was spring, and would always be so for as long as the unicorns chose to graze there. There was an endless supply of food for them to consume, because the grass continued to grow at an amazing rate. It was impossible to tell how long they had been there—a day, an age. To such creatures, time truly had little meaning.
They were not entirely what I had expected, not precisely what I had seen as depicted in tapestries. They were, for one thing, smaller. Not a one of them was much larger than a pony. Yet there were so many of them at that size that I could only conclude that that was how big they got at maturity, rather than that we had stumbled upon a herd of young ones. Some of them were white, yes, but there were others who were deep brown, and some that were—incredibly—green. Green that was as green as the forest. I thought of the times when I would be in the Elderwoods and think that I’d seen something move, just out of the corner of my eye, but when I’d looked straight on I’d seen nothing. Perhaps the “nothing” I had seen had been a unicorn standing against a bush and blending in perfectly.
The fabled horns were not quite as long and pointed as I would have thought; they were shorter and curved upward, appearing more like tusks than horns. Their second most noticeable feature was their tails, which were long, thin, and almost snake-like, a small tuft of hair at the end. And they were shaggy beasts. Their manes were long and unkempt, and their fetlocks were thick to the point of almost being furry. However, I quickly noticed something, and that was that the manes and fetlocks seemed to be glittering as the sun hit them. Sparkling, even, in a rainbow of colors that made it seem as if the light was dancing along them. And their eyes … their eyes were the deepest blue I had ever seen. Such blue that I could have stared at it for hours, forever. Such blue that it hurt to look away, even for an instant.
As scruffy as the creatures appeared on the outside, they seemed to glow from within. I understood why someone weaving a tapestry would depict them in such a manner; it was because it was a rendering of the glorious souls these animals possessed. I knew that I was going to start crying as soon as I walked away from them, which I would obviously have to do eventually. I could not, after all, live among them. Although even that seemed possible at the moment. Anything did.
“Gods,” I whispered because, really, what else could one say?
Entipy was looking at me with wonder. “It’s because of you,” she said.
“Me?” I had no idea what she was talking about. In fact, it
took effort for me to force my attention back to the fact that she was there at all. “What’s because of me?”
“In all my life,” she said in wonderment, “I’ve never seen a single magical beast. Not a one. I’ve read about them, thought about them. But never seen one. Then along comes Apropos, whose mother witnessed an omen of a phoenix. Here you come, riding on the back of one, just as it was shown in the tapestry back at my home. And now I come upon more glorious creatures while in your company. There’s something about you that intertwines your fate with such animals.”
I didn’t bother to point out that I tried to head away from the creatures, not toward them. She was so caught up in the magic of the moment that she was already reordering events to suit the new worldview. Fine. Let her. If it was going to benefit me, I wasn’t about to argue. “I suppose anything is possible,” I said.
I glanced over my shoulder to see if there was any remaining sign of the Heffers. Nothing. I hoped my guess was right and they had decided to wait for us by the side of the road. I turned back to Entipy.
She wasn’t there.
My heart leaped up into my throat, for I could see the top of Entipy’s head disappearing beyond the edge of the rise. She was climbing down into the valley where the unicorns were grazing. “Princessssss!” I hissed. “Get back here!”
Either she didn’t hear me or she simply acted as if she didn’t hear me, but in either event she dropped from sight. Immediately I scrambled to the edge of the rise and looked down. She had already reached the bottom; it was only about ten feet down, and on an incline rather than a straight drop, so it had been no great challenge for her to get down there. “Entipy!” I called to her again in a desperate low voice. She looked up at me, her eyebrows knit, as if she couldn’t possibly figure out what I might want to talk to her about. “Get back up here!”
