Right and Left scowled in unison, but held the collars up to the light. While not as elaborate as Raine’s had been, diamonds and rubies winked in the new sun’s bright rays. Rygel certainly was resourceful, I thought with admiration. How did he manage to find two such exactly identical collars? The twins themselves seemed pleased, given the lightening of their usual stern facades and the greedy light in their dark eyes.
Yuri, Yuras and Tor argued over cloaks and copper pins, seizing brown and gold tunics and woolen hose that looked like it may fit them. Rannon held up a tunic against his chest, holding it this way and that, gauging its possible size. Kel’Ratan frowned down at a more elegant set of tunics, hose and boots, and a rich mantle of black. He fingered the badge on the mantle.
“Just who is Arianne supposed to be?” he asked.
I eyed the silver crowned boar, rampant, on a field of green with no little dismay. The crown meant royalty. I sincerely doubted a member of the Khalidian royal family would be traipsing about on a pilgrimage. Perhaps Rygel had erred just a bit in stealing that particular emblem.
“If I remember right,” I said slowly, “that’s the sigil of Brutal’s cousin, the Princess Irridi.”
“But,” Kel’Ratan protested, frowning, “isn’t she old? Well, at least older than Arianne?”
I chuckled and swept my hand out over the desert below. “Perhaps they don’t know that part.”
As I buckled my collar about my neck, I nodded toward the rapidly diminishing pile of clothes.
“Do I have something to wear?”
Alun held up two identical tunics of black and silver, with black hose to match. He tossed them to Left and Right. Mumbling a bit under his breath, he found a long wool tunic of plain homespun and threw that to me. I caught it, running my hands over its rough texture. I sighed. A set of heavy breeches followed.
“My skin will suffer sorely,” I murmured.
Grinning, he also tossed me a set of heavy leather boots.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I said, holding one up. It appeared to be my size, but of thick brown cowhide. They may possibly be warm enough, but as ugly as a mud hut. The things I’m forced to do….
“All right, boys,” I said, standing up with my new clothes in my arms. “Get dressed. Our own clothes go deep into saddlebags with food and gear on top. If we’re searched, we don’t want them found. Load up the gelding with all the extra food and hides, but make it look as though he’s loaded with a royal lady’s travelling stuff.”
“He can’t take much more,” Kel’Ratan said, standing up with his own set of new clothes. “We need more horses. Or a couple of mules.”
“That’ll be our first task,” I said, hauling Arianne up by her arm. “Come, little cat. Let’s take your new gown, this nice hot water and find some privacy.”
Taking her dress and cloak from Alun, and the pot from the fire, we walked a short distance into the forest to change in seclusion. Of course, Silverruff, Digger, Darkhan and Thunder followed. I spun about, pointing my finger at them.
“You boys may be wolves,” I said crossly. “But you’re still boys. We girls will change in private. Understand?”
Four muzzles dropped in wolfish grins. Four rumps settled onto the stony soil. Four tails swept dead leaves and rubbish from side to side in amused wags. I snorted, scowling, and lead Arianne behind a thick clump of pine. We’d no more than unlaced and untied our clothes when a subtle sound tickled my hearing. From behind, I heard a cautious step, the faint sound of a paw on a dead leaf.
“Take one more step, Darkhan,” I warned with a snarl in my tone. “And I’ll hang your hide on my wall.”
A low whine answered me. Leaves swished aside as his rump settled once more onto the ground. Arianne giggled. I glared at her.
“Cease,” I snapped. “You only encourage him.”
Obviously, she took my earlier advice to heart. Arianne lifted her chin proudly. Meeting my glare with her glorious, beautiful eyes, she smiled. “I’ll encourage him if I want to,” she replied simply.
My irritation lifted in an instant. Now that’s what I’m talking about. My fingers under her tiny chin, I grinned down at her. “Very good. I’m proud of you.”
Under my praise, she glowed. Ducking her head, she smiled, white teeth gleaming, and blushed prettily. Her thick midnight hair swung about her face, but she didn’t hide within it depths. She certainly did have a royal rod of steel up her spine, I realized, thinking of Raine and his icy courage. No wonder both Rygel and Darkhan were head over heels in love with her. She was a treasure, indeed.
“Come now,” I said, taking her by the shoulders and turning her about so I could unfasten her laces. “You’re going to be chilly for a short spell. This gown has seen its better days, anyway.”
As I peeled her out of the dress stolen from Adhas, she eyed it with sorrow. “I loved that gown.”
“I know.” I dropped it to the side, and held the heavy brocade for her to step into. I frowned. This stiff gown needed a soft kirtle to go under it. Any aristocrat would have one.
“Thunder?” I called.
A low growl answered me.
“Go see if there is a kirtle to go with this.”
His growl rose on a question.
“Wake Rygel and ask him. If there is, bring it back, please. Before she freezes.”
Brush broke and splintered under the weight of Thunder’s huge body crashing through it. Arianne shivered in the cold air, her teeth chattering. Before her lips could turn blue, I offered her the warm water and a cloth to wash with. After a very hasty bath, I wrapped her in the warm cloak and rubbed her arms and back. “Move about a little and you’ll stay warm.”
Arianne danced about, trying to keep warm while I skinned out of my leathers and the thick blanket I wrapped myself with. The icy air hit me hard, taking my breath. With record speed, I washed quickly, dressed myself in the scratchy, smelly wool, shoved my bare feet into the rough boots and rewrapped the blanket around me. The thick wool gradually warmed my body, but the boots seriously neglected to warm my feet. I wiggled my aching toes. Perhaps there was a spot of room to wrap my feet with thin warmer leather to protect them from the cold. I’d have to investigate that possibility. I seriously doubted patrols would be much interested in what a slave wore inside her boots.
I bundled my leathers together into a small roll to stuff into my pack. Arianne’s dress I shoved under the pine to rot. I dumped the now cold water on the stony turf while Thunder returned with more heavy breaking of branches and shrubs. I emerged, fully dressed, from around the thicket of pines.
“Ah, my thanks,” I said, seeing the drooping, fine, white cloth between his jaws. “He did remember.”
Taking the kirtle from him, I thanked him with a kiss to his muzzle and returned to Arianne. At my urging, she dropped the warm cloak and stood shivering while I dressed her first in the silken kirtle and then the heavier brocade. Despite her attempts to hold her hair aside, I was forced to pull the resistant mass out of the inside of the gown before I could fit her into it properly.
“Rygel chose well,” I murmured, lacing her up the back. “This goes quite well with your eyes.”
“It’s awkward and uncomfortable,” she complained, rolling her shoulders under the burden. “I don’t like it.”
“It’s what a royal lady would wear,” I said, using both hands and my teeth to lace her small body into the gown.
“Royal ladies are idiots.”
I snorted laughter, dropping the string I needed from my teeth.
“Thanks.”
“Oh, I didn’t mean you, of course. You wear sensible clothing. It’s the Khalidians who dress themselves like silly fops.”
“That may be true,” I said, using my wrist to retake the string into my mouth. “But you must pretend that you wear this all the time.”
“Must I have the cloak, too?” she asked. “This is hot. I’m sweating.”
“Royal ladies perspire, dear.”
&nb
sp; “Then I’m perspiring. Perspire is trickling down my back.”
Laughter choked off my breath. “It’s perspiration,” I said when I could speak.
“Whatever. It’s nasty.”
“Don’t forget. You have to practice looking disdainful.”
Her head turned over her shoulder to eye me quizzically. “How do I do that?”
“Try looking down your nose.”
Raising her head, she stared down her nose. I swallowed another laugh. All she managed to do was look imperious with crossed eyes.
“How was that?” she asked, her expression returning to its more comfortable shy expression.
I cupped her cheek with my hand. “Keep practicing.”
A soft wuff sounded from behind the thicket. “Oh, all right,” I said. “You can look.”
Four wolf muzzles pushed through the thicket, four wolf heads followed, eyes bright. Darkhan, of course, wagged his entire rear end from side to side as he gazed at his beautiful beloved. Silverruff, Digger and Thunder stared, tails low and silent, teeth caught on pink tongues as they all three eyed me with dismay. I scowled, my hands on my hips.
“Don’t any of you say a word,” I growled. “I’m supposed to be a slave. Slaves aren’t very glamorous.”
Thunder managed a small wag while Silverruff whined. Digger merely sighed.
“Oh, shut up.”
Wrapping the protesting Arianne into her scarlet cloak, I pushed her ahead of me, out from behind the thicket. My woolen clothes, while warmer than my leathers I carried in my hand, weren’t quite warm enough. At least until the sun rose a little higher. I buried my shoulders under my blanket once more and herded an unhappy Arianne and a happy Darkhan ahead of me. A glance behind showed a dejected Silverruff and a glowering Thunder following behind. Digger, not as upset as his kin, danced at my side. I reached down my hand to tickle his jaw, glad I included him in my small pack. He was a delight. I told him so, rewarded for my words with more dancing and a busy tail.
My boys had all changed into their disguises while we were away. Left and Right, looking like a slave and his reflection in a mirror, stood side by side in their new silver and black clothes and jeweled collars. Kel’Ratan, in his guard captain outfit, looked competent and ready, his hand on his sword hilt. The silver boar snarled from his cloak. Tor, fingering his new page uniform and gazing down at himself doubtfully, finally looked up.
“I don’t know how to be a page,” he said.
“It’s easy,” I replied. “Just be ready to serve.”
Rannon, Witraz, Alun, Yuri and Yuras stood off to one side, all in a bunch, gazing down at themselves, much as Tor had. Traditional Kel’Hallan clothing was of leather and fur, not cotton or wool. They’d no clue how to act in such clothing. Shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot, they eyed one another and muttered under their collective breath.
Corwyn stood off to one side, gazing to the north, his blue eyes distant. He, too, had changed into a badged tunic slightly less fine than Rygel’s, his breeches fitting his legs closely. Tall boots snugged him to his knees and a thick black cloak hung from his shoulders. He alone, outside of Rygel, seemed comfortable in his new disguise. To me, he took on the appearance of an aged courtier, a family vassal, with his red and grey hair falling to his shoulders and thick mustache drooping around his thinned lips. The pain at his separation from Raine dug deep lines around his eyes and mouth gave lie to contented appearance. The sap in me wanted to draw him to my breast and comfort him. The warrior in me wanted to kick his butt.
As Arianne and I emerged from the trees, all male eyes rested on us both.
“Your Highness,” Witraz choked, his one eye staring at me in horror.
“This is not right,” Alun snapped, scowling in fury. “I’ll not stand for it.”
I glanced down at myself, fingering my collar, trying to see what they saw. I tried to picture a small slave wearing a furred collar walking behind her jeweled and royal mistress, carrying a bundle and a small pot. I smiled, averting my head, knowing that my disguise worked. If my boys felt outraged at my slavery, then hopefully any patrol that stopped us would be fooled entirely.
Corwyn turned and eyed us both up and down. He gazed at Arianne with favor, of course. Yet, he looked toward me with sadness and pity. Offering me a half-bow, he shook his grizzled head at the necessity of the disguise while clearly unhappy with it. I smiled at him, the urge to kick his butt dissipating.
Even Kel’Ratan glowered. He, I thought, would have gloated over my lack of station or royalty. Enjoyed my lowly class, my slave’s collar, my plain and ugly clothes. There he stood, angry that I was forced to even feign, for all our sakes, such servitude.
I dropped my hands to my sides, smiling at the furious Alun. “You’ll stand for it, warrior. You will all endure it, as I will. Besides –” I gestured down at myself. “A little humility never hurt anyone.”
“This form of humility may kill you,” Rannon growled. “You can’t defend yourself in that – outfit.”
“Then I reckon I’ll be relying entirely upon you boys,” I answered. “Now won’t I?”
Plenty of feet shifted unhappily, dark glances of unease flickered from eye to eye. Rannon and Alun nodded. Witraz shrugged, still scowling, Left and Right wore identical expressions of anger. Yuri and Yuras managed to stop arguing with Tor long enough to gape in unhappy shock.
“I’ll fix your hair,” I said quietly, urging Arianne to sit.
“And I’ll do yours.”
I spun. Rygel appeared, like magic, behind me. Wearing Khalidian clothes slightly more elegant than Kel’Ratan, he offered a bow and a swift salute. I noticed he also wore the badge with the crowned boar and his torque was missing. As was his diamond earring.
“I’m fine,” I said quickly, reluctant to have him mess with my hair.
“A slave doesn’t own rich, glossy tresses, Princess,” Rygel answered, smiling. “But fear not. What I do isn’t permanent. “I’ll just tease it a bit, make it look snarled and matted.”
I shrugged, giving in. He was right, of course. “Very well.”
I sat behind Arianne and braided her thick heavy locks into some semblance of order. With the silken netting and small pearls Rygel thrust into my lap, I managed to create a masterpiece of braided black wealth that coiled over her shoulder and down past her waist bedecked in shiny white pearls. My own hair, with a quick glance at what fell over my shoulder, looked, under Rygel’s teasing, dull, flat and uncared for. As I’d treated my hair like gold throughout my life, having it look like a rat bred its offspring in it made my heart sink. Damn Rygel and his wild, hare-brained ideas. I’ll kill him for this.
Escaping my ire in a smooth, graceful move, Rygel went to his cranky, irritated black gelding. The poor horse, loaded past his capacity and even-tempered willingness, flattened his ears and lashed his tail in protest.
“In my travels last night,” Rygel said, soothing his horse’s anger with soft caresses. “I discovered there is a semi-permanent merchant’s fair. It lies at the center of a crossroads, where several caravan routes intersect.”
“And?” I prompted when he hesitated.
He shrugged. “It’s a tent city, for the most part. Merchants pack up and depart at a moment’s notice, while others move in. Everything we could ever want, or need, can be found there.”
His dancing around his suggestion irritated me to no end. “Pray tell, what might we need there?”
“We need more beasts of burden,” he went on. “I suggest we start with there, and find a few more horses.”
Fortunately for him, he came to the point before I blew up. “Of course,” I snapped. “I’m thinking by the time we get there we’ll need plenty of other things besides more mounts. Like wine.”
“Our stores are low,” Kel’Ratan added. “We won’t be able to hunt for a time, so we’ll need more than just pack animals and wine.”
I glanced about, my hands on my hips. “Where’s Bar?”
No on
e had seen him leave, as every head, human and wolf, turned this way and that, searching, mystified, for the absent griffin. Wolves nosed the ground, sniffed the air, as if they might track him down. My boys searched the camp, as though by looking about might find him hiding under a blanket or behind a stone.
“You all are useless,” I snapped.
“He flew off when you went to change clothing,” Shardon offered, grass in his teeth.
“Ah,” I said, with a grateful gesture toward him. “Someone who has eyes. Very good.”
Alun strode forward, carrying the carcass of a snowy owl. I blinked in confusion when he tossed it on the ground and smiled. “I killed it last night, just before I slept.”
Realization dawned. “Of course. Everyone, pluck feathers and tie them into manes, tails and your own hair. We’re Zhous, remember?”
“Bar probably disappeared to protect his feathers,” Kel’Ratan offered, plucking a small handful for himself.
Not knowing whether a Zhou slave would be permitted to wear Osimi feathers, I tied one into my hair anyway. Throwing my blanket to Tor, I strode to my faithful Mikk, and tied another into his mane. Left and Right followed my example. Kel’Hallan warriors vanished and Zhou slaves emerged like, well, magic.
“Just what are their duties?” I asked, nodding toward the twins.
Rygel followed my eyes to the now scowling twins. “They’re bedroom slaves.”
Starting to vault into my saddle, I dropped back, almost stumbling. My handful of Mikk’s mane kept me from falling onto my butt. “Excuse me?”
Arianne covered her mouth with her hands, her eyes huge as she, too, stared at Left and Right. Witraz chuckled, Rannon laughed aloud, and Alun coughed, choking back his own humor.
“A royal lady without a husband,” Rygel said smoothly, his own amber eyes dancing, “would certainly want entertainment. A pair of identical twin bedroom slaves to serve her every whim would gain her much admiration amongst the nobility.”
Pink tinged the throats of both Left and Right above their jeweled collars and rose. Gaining both a darker reddish hue and altitude, their faces bore identical rose-tinted blushes. Even their ears, what could be seen from behind their black hair anyway, turned garnet. Twin sets of dark eyes dropped to the ground in utter embarrassment and horror.
Prince Wolf Page 22
