Tired, sweaty, plagued by flies and with the air thick with the coming thunderstorm, camp that evening was not a cheery place. With darkness the flies left, and once the party had plates of food inside them, their spirits began to rise. True, the heavy, starless sky and the breathless air portended yet another wet night, or a night with wet bedding at least, but a few comments were beginning to be made. At last Leyla broached the question on everyone's minds. "Where to from here, Cap?"
He shrugged. "We need to go north, but if we try it in the midlands we run into real jungle, not just valley-bottom stuff. Cutting our way through it would take three or four months at least, and as like as not some of us'd die in interesting ways before we found our way out. If we found our way out. I tried it . . . once. It's all twisted ravines and impassable rivers, as well as totally confusing forest. I only got out by pure luck."
He took a sip of his coffee. "Thanks to the three bungling burglars we can't go through Amphir. Thanks to our little Princess and her boyfriends the coast trail is closed. Which reminds me, what was all that wordplay about `Saril,' girl?" asked Cap, fixing her with his eagle gaze.
She shrugged. "He's Deshin's boyfriend."
"Hmm. Interesting . . . and possibly useful to know, in a homophobic society. A lever perhaps?" he asked, questing.
"He does keep it a secret. In most of the Tyn States, it wouldn't be wise to be public about it. It's different in Arlinn, of course," she said.
Cap snorted. "Thanks to bloody Evie Lee. Half of her friends were chutney ferrets. Still, it won't get us north. I suppose we can rope down the cliff between the watchtowers at night, but we couldn't take horses. On foot it would take us too long to get out of Amphir's territory. That only leaves us the option of going by sea to Dublin Moss. It's a bugger of a trip, weatherwise, but I don't see how else we can do it. We'll go further south and then down to Port Lockry."
Keilin dredged his memory, trying to remember the place on the maps he'd pored over. "Back down through the lowlands?" he asked, just the edge of trepidation in his voice.
He was rewarded with a snort of laughter. "Don't like them either, do you? Relax. We go back onto the plateau and then about five days' ride we cut down through some of the finest farming country in the world."
* * *
"Cay." His tired eyes jumped open. Only one person whispered like that. He sat up. "Princess. What can I do for you?" The wind was beginning to rip at the tree branches and the air was rapidly chilling. It was going to rain soon.
"Can I sit under some of your blanket? I'm cold." Her voice was timorous. Two days ago Keilin would have been delighted. Now he was wary. "Hadn't you just better go back to your bed, Princess?"
She stamped her foot, forgetting that she was being quiet. Fortunately the wind in the clattering branches effectively masked the sound. "Will you stop treating me as if I've got some disease," she whispered fiercely. "Stop Princessing me too. You know my name."
"I thought I did," he said slowly. "But it seems it isn't Kim after all,"
"Cymbellyn is my second name."
"It's a lovely name, Princess. But you see, I don't even have a second name. I'm a street child. I'm a thief. I ran away from the brothel my mother lived in, because I found out she was going to sell me to a house that specialized in pretty boys. She wanted the money to buy drugs. See, my kind and yours don't mix," Keilin said sadly.
After a long moment's shocked silence he spoke again. "I used to dream about rescuing a princess, and the king making me a noble and giving me his daughter and a fortune. But . . . it isn't like that in real life. If I took you to your father, he'd be glad to have you back. But he'd see that I disappeared sharpish, wouldn't he?"
"Yes." Her voice was very small, and the sudden flash of lightning showed that she was looking at her feet.
"So . . . when we get to Dublin Moss, I'll sneak you away to him. And then I'm going to disappear myself . . . before he helps me along." Big droplets of rain came splattering through the tree-canopy. In the brief lightning starkness he could have sworn she shook her head. But hammer-blows of wind shook and rattled the forest, making speech near impossible, and the raindrops began to come down in earnest now. Keilin bundled his bed roll into an oilcloth saddlebag.
She still stood there, wet faced, and looking lost in the intermittent glare. So Keilin took her elbow and led her to the shelter of a half-fallen tree. They huddled together, under the sloping trunk, sheltering under his cloak. Keilin felt the warmth and softness of her pressing against him. He ground his teeth, and closed his eyes and as felt, even in the ankle-pouch, the core section was growing colder. Storms in these parts were brief but furious. Keilin, for one, was enormously relieved when the rain slackened and the crack and boom of thunder faded to distant rumbling. Yet a small part of him had not wanted the rain to end.