None of them spoke until they were out of town. But as he stomped along beside the river, Korram caught a glimpse of his own reflection in the water, and it startled him. His hair, thick and black like the Mountain Folk’s anyway, was shaggy and matted from not having seen a comb in weeks. The deerskin jacket, hand-carved spear, and bare feet completed the picture. Only his breeches were out of place, and those were dirty enough that their original color was no longer identifiable. No wonder people had mistaken him for one of the Mountain Folk; he really must look almost exactly as they did. Not that that bothered Korram. But I have to try to look like a Lowlander again if we’re going to be able to buy what we need.
“That went well,” Ernth remarked sarcastically as they passed the last of the houses and continued upstream toward where the rest of the family waited. “Now what are we going to do, Prince of Malorn?”
“I have a plan,” Korram told him, still simmering with anger. “I’m going to go back down there by myself and let them all see who I really am, and then that man will be only too glad to sell me the goods at a decent price.” And beg my forgiveness on his knees. Since Trayven was no longer with him, there would be no harm in telling the townsfolk who he was this time. As soon as they realized their prince walked among them, there would be bowing and honor and humble queries as to how they could serve. He would introduce them to the Mountain Folk and they would all realize that there was no reason the two groups couldn’t get along, especially with their future king to act as a bridge between them. And it wouldn’t hurt to let the Mountain Folk see that the Prince of Malorn was no ordinary person, after all.
The others were lounging on the bank, trailing their feet in the water and chatting. Korram pulled off the borrowed jacket and tossed it back to Thorst. He picked up his own jacket as well as his boots and socks from where he had left them by the pile of packs. Realizing how badly his socks stank, he paused. Come to think of it, he hadn’t had a real bath since leaving the palace, so he probably didn’t smell very pleasant himself.
“I’ll be right back,” he told the others, who were watching him, puzzled. Without waiting to explain, he took his things and jogged away until he rounded a bend in the river out of sight. Quickly, he peeled off his clothes and tossed them onto the bank as he waded into the water.
It was icy cold, as all rivers seemed to be here in the Impassables, and the rocks were algae-slick underfoot. There was nothing to use as soap, but Korram rubbed at his skin with a leaf, trying to get off as much of the dirt he hadn’t realized he was caked with as possible. A handful of sand from the riverbed helped scrape more of it off, along with a fair bit of his skin. Ducking his head underwater, Korram scrubbed at his hair, realizing it was filthy as well as matted. Good thing Mother can’t see me now.
Satisfied that he was as clean as cold water and sand could get him, Korram waded out of the river, shivering and half numb. Using his jacket as a towel, he dried himself off and hastily threw his clothes on again, realizing as he did so that they smelled like sweat and goats and wood smoke. They were growing threadbare, too. He noticed a small hole in one knee of his breeches, and the hem of his tunic was starting to unravel. Well, there was nothing he could do about that now, but he did take a moment to sit and wipe his boots clean with the damp sleeve of his jacket. He ran his fingers through his dripping hair, tugging out the worst of the tangles and trying to smooth it back into something less disorderly than the mop it had become.
If only I had my sword. The hilt was jeweled, the workmanship the finest Sazellia could offer. It had been a gift from his mother on his sixteenth birthday. People would be much more likely to believe I’m the prince if I march into town with that sword. But no, Trayven had it now, and Korram knew he would probably never see it again.
At least I’ve still got my ring. He paused to clean the dirt out from between the gems with a sharp twig. It would prove his identity to anyone who doubted.
His preparations complete, Korram rose to his feet. Closing his eyes for a moment, he pictured himself back in his palace, about to enter the High Council Room and speak to twenty men with questionable loyalties who needed to remember they were being addressed by the Prince of Malorn. He drew himself up to his full height – not very high compared to most people, unfortunately – and straightened his shoulders. Normally he disliked the formality that was an unavoidable aspect of his royal position, but he could play that role when he needed to. Raising his chin, he strode back toward the town, imagining a gleaming marble floor beneath his feet and servants bowing on either side.
The Mountain Folk stared as he approached, sensing something different in his bearing. “If you’ll hand me the money, I’ll go back into town and buy what we need,” Korram informed them, and he could hear the authoritative tone in his own voice. Wordlessly, Thest fished out the handful of coins again.
“How are you gonna do it?” demanded Thisti, wide-eyed.
“I’m going to let those Lowlanders know that they’re speaking to the Prince of Malorn.” Korram took the coins and slid them into his own pocket. “And I’ll either find someone who deserves to do business with royalty or make that insulting cheat of a shopkeeper wish he had been more respectful the first time.”
“Ooh, can I come watch?” Thisti was jumping up and down in her excitement. “Please?”
“Sorry. This won’t work unless I go by myself.” Korram turned and marched toward the town, Charr comforting her disappointed daughter as he left.
Everything was different this time. Nobody reached for their weapons or cast suspicious glances at him as he strode down the street, though he did get a lot of curious stares. These people probably didn’t see many strangers in Nilvey except for occasional Mountain Folk or miners. Korram returned the looks with the gracious but slightly aloof smile that he had learned from Mother. Several townsfolk greeted him with a “good afternoon,” to which he replied courteously as he passed. He could feel people staring at his back, no doubt intrigued by his formal manner that must seem so out of place in this little town.
School had apparently just been dismissed for the day, because the main street was now full of children laughing and skipping along in twos and threes. Many of them turned to watch Korram as he strode by, their faces curious and unafraid.
In front of the school, several girls just a year or two younger than Korram had stopped to talk in a little cluster. As he approached, they glanced at him with interest. “Look, a stranger,” he heard one of them whisper.
Making up his mind, Korram stopped in front of them. “Good day to you, ladies,” he greeted them with a courtly half-bow, just the way he might have greeted a roomful of his mother’s friends at home. Taken aback, they glanced at each other wide-eyed, a few of them giggling nervously behind their hands at this unexpected greeting.
“Welcome to our town,” one of them, bolder than the rest, replied, stepping forward. “What’s your name?”
Korram drew himself back up to his full height again. “Thank you, my lady. I am Prince Korram.”
There was a collective gasp, and their eyes widened still more. Before anyone could question the truth of his claim, Korram extended an arm regally to show them his ring, the newly cleaned gems glittering in the afternoon sunlight. “Lest anyone doubt me, I bear the royal crest of my father’s house.”
As one, the girls bent to stare at the ring and then back up at his face, their mouths falling open in awe. And then they were all curtsying and squealing and exclaiming, “your royal Highness!” and “welcome to Nilvey, my lord!” and “ooh, just wait till I tell everyone I met the prince!”
Out of the corners of his eyes, Korram could see passersby stopping to stare, but he ignored them. “It’s a pleasure to meet all of you,” he told the girls, smiling gallantly. “I’m on a long journey at the moment, and I find myself in need of supplies. I wonder if one of you would be so kind as to direct me to somewhere I could purchase a few items?”
“Oh, I can!” exclaimed one
of the girls, pushing her way eagerly past her friends. “My father owns the general store just down the street, your Highness, and he’ll be glad to give you anything you want! Come on, I’ll show you! I mean, if you please, my lord.” She dipped into a low, clumsy curtsy and fluttered her eyelashes at him, smiling hopefully.
Resisting the urge to laugh, Korram inclined his head formally. “Thank you, my lady; that would be most gracious of you.”
The entire cluster of girls scurried along with them, whispering and darting glances his way as the shop owner’s daughter marched proudly by his side. “It’s Prince Korram,” the girls announced importantly to everyone they passed, and Korram deigned to greet his subjects cordially as they turned to gape.
By the time they reached the store, dozens of awe-struck townsfolk were trailing along in his wake. Ordinarily it annoyed Korram to be followed and stared at, but this time he didn’t mind. It would be useful today.
The store’s door and all the windows were open now, and the owner was sitting on the doorstep chatting with a friend. They both rose to their feet, puzzled, as Korram and his entourage approached.
“Father, you’ll never believe who’s come to shop from us,” gushed Korram’s escort. “This is his royal Highness Prince Korram himself!”
The man who had insulted him half an hour ago stared at him with no sign of recognition. “You’re who?”
Korram stepped forward, chin raised regally, and extended his arm to display his ring once more. “An unlikely claim, I realize, so here is the proof. My companions and I have been traveling through the mountains, and we decided to stop in Nilvey for provisions. I’m told your establishment is the best place in town to buy them.”
“Oh, yes, your Highness!” The man bowed low, his eyes wide. “This is an honor, an incredible honor. Please.” He gestured to the open door behind him. “Come in, my lord, and choose whatever you like.”
The moment had come. Korram raised his eyebrows. “Oh, really? I was under the impression that my kind isn’t welcome in your establishment.”
The man stared at him, alarmed but uncomprehending. “I beg your pardon, Sire?”
The crowd was pressing in closer, whispering curiously.
“Well, I’m glad to see that your policy has changed,” Korram told him pleasantly. “Earlier this afternoon you told my friends and me to wait outside; that dirty shoplifting vagabonds like ourselves couldn’t come in.”
A gasp went up from the crowd, and the shopkeeper turned pale. “Y-y-your friends and you, Sire?” he whispered.
“Yes, indeed.” Korram couldn’t resist. “That was just before you tried to charge us more than double the listed price for the items we needed, and then called me an ignorant illiterate savage when I objected.”
Another gasp went up, followed by hushed murmurs. Since he wasn’t accompanied by armed guards, Korram knew the man couldn’t have any immediate fear for his life, but the knowledge that he had gravely insulted the Prince of Malorn did seem to be appropriately terrifying.
“Th-th-th-that was you, Sire?” the shopkeeper almost whimpered. “Dressed like one of the Mountain Folk?”
“My friends have been good enough to share certain supplies with me on our journey,” Korram explained. “One of my goals on this trip is to help both kinds of Malornians learn to treat each other with kindness and respect, but I’m afraid I was quite embarrassed at the welcome they received from my loyal subjects here in Nilvey.”
The man licked his lips. “B-but Sire, you have to understand that the Mountain Folk really do shoplift and leave their dirty handprints all over my wares,” he protested. “That’s what they’re like. Of course I wouldn’t have said those things if I’d known it was you, but we have to be careful of the Mountain Folk around here. They’re always trying to hurt us or steal from us.”
“And they say exactly the same things about you,” Korram told him sternly. He turned to face the crowd. “They’re regular people just like we are, trying to provide for their families and protect their children and do what it takes to make a living in these mountains. I know there has been animosity between their people and ours for generations, but the time has come for it to end.”
The crowd was staring at him, respectfully silent but obviously wondering how he was going to enforce his grand words. Korram wondered, too.
“I’m on my way to meet with their leaders now,” he announced, bending the truth just a little. “They’ve welcomed me into their lives and are prepared to follow what I say.” At least, he hoped that would be completely true by the time he actually met with more of the Mountain Folk. “I’ll make it clear that from now on they’re to treat our people fairly, but you have to do the same to them. No more insults or prices higher than you’d charge anyone else. When they learn they can trust you to treat them right, you won’t have anything to fear from them.”
“If it really comes about the way you’re saying, that would be a welcome change, Sire,” the shopkeeper’s friend spoke up. “Your mission goes far beyond what we were told about. It would be extraordinary if it comes to pass.”
My mission? What have these people been told about my mission? Korram stared at him, faintly alarmed.
“Surely Regent Rampus will be surprised and most impressed, Sire,” the man continued. “No doubt this exceeds his expectations. Shall we give him any message from you when we tell him about it?”
Korram froze. Rampus has agents here? Yes, he knew that the regent’s spies were scattered all over Malorn, and even Alasia, but the idea of people reporting to him from such a small mountain town was unnerving.
“What exactly did the regent tell you about me?” he asked, careful to keep his tone neutral.
“Why, his messenger came and said that you were traveling through the Impassables on a quest to recruit a Mountain Folk army to strengthen Malorn’s military and help protect our border. He said no one was sure of your exact route, but that if you ever passed through Nilvey, we were to let him know the next time he came by. Apparently Regent Rampus is quite concerned for your safety. I think he sent word to other foothill towns as well.”
It took all Korram’s willpower to keep from reacting when on the inside he was seething once more. Did he set this up after I refused to bring the guards with me, so that he could send someone after me when he got word of my location? Now Korram was thankful he had been careful not to let Trayven out of his sight in the towns they had passed through earlier. Otherwise I could have been killed weeks ago.
It was a mistake to tell these people who I am. He realized that now, under the gazes of the crowd around the store, but it was too late to do anything about it. They undoubtedly had no idea of the political intrigues going on; like almost everyone else, they probably assumed that the regent worked for the prince and for the good of the kingdom.
“You may inform the regent that things are going well so far,” he replied finally. “And when his messenger comes by, please tell him to let my mother and sister know that I’m well and that I’m thinking of them.” It wouldn’t be a good idea to say more.
In the meantime, he had better hurry up and buy those supplies so they could leave the area. He wanted to be as far away from Nilvey as possible when the assassins arrived.
The family was happy to heed Korram’s warning about moving on from Nilvey that afternoon. They got to work loading the horses as soon as he returned.
“The shopkeeper sends his apologies for the insults earlier,” Korram reported, handing Thest back his money and showing them all the cooking pot and needle and thread he had acquired for free. “He promised he won’t insult any Mountain Folk anymore, though he did ask that you try not to dirty his walls or goods.” He looked meaningfully at Ernth, who busied himself picking burrs out of Hungry’s tail and pretended not to hear.
Nevertheless, Korram was proud of his accomplishment. Though the townsfolk were skeptical, he had assured them that he would take steps to keep them from being harmed or robbed by Mount
ain Folk any more. It didn’t hurt that he had also promised to have cobblestones carted in to pave the road leading down to Daveen, the nearest major town in the Lowlands, as soon as he was king. At the welcome news that year round travel would soon be much easier, several grateful townsfolk had been glad to chip in, unasked, to buy gifts for the Prince of Malorn and his friends.
“Look what else they gave us,” Korram announced to the family, proudly displaying the extra frying pan, wooden bucket, fishing hooks, and steel arrowheads he had brought back.
Everyone was pleased but puzzled. “Why are they giving those things away?” Therk demanded. “Don’t they want them anymore?”
Korram chuckled modestly. “One of the advantages of being the Prince of Malorn is that people like to prove their loyalty by giving you gifts. Besides, then they can boast to all their friends that the prince himself shook their hand and thanked them for their generosity.” He helped stuff the new supplies into one of the packs as the family reloaded their horses, ready to depart. “It was also because I assured them that the Mountain Folk won’t ever steal from them or damage any goods again. You have to do your part and return their kindness now. Not just here, but anywhere you meet Lowlanders.”
No one made any promises, but neither were there any scornful replies, not even from Ernth. Korram took that as a step in the right direction.
“So, did I pass the test?” he prompted as they set off single file upstream, leading their horses. His question was met with blank looks.
“I accomplished what you wanted me to, right?” he rephrased the question. “So now you’ll let me talk to the rest of your people and see if they’ll join my army?”
Looks were exchanged up and down the line. “Perhaps,” Korth allowed finally. “We still need to think about it. But we’re heading in that direction now.”
Whether he meant the words literally or figuratively, Korram couldn’t tell. And that was all anyone seemed inclined to say about the subject.
Prince of Malorn (Annals of Alasia Book 3) Page 11
