there and live. Besides, the circus people were friendly folk, free with their food 78
and wine, in no rush to pass over the border to Brigard. They did not act like fugitives with
something to hide.
Once in Brigard, the neighboring country recently conquered by Fergox Spearthrower, Ramil and
Tashi were untied and taken out of the cage. The mood of the circus people lightened now that
the immediate danger of discovery had passed. They were travelling through spectacular
mountain scenery: soaring peaks, snow-covered slopes, and thick forests of pine trees. They had
to climb high to cross the range. The air was icy but the weather fine. Gordoc insisted that Tashi
ride beside him for protection, snugly wrapped up in his fur rug. Ramil could see her now in the
wagon ahead of him, her long fair hair streaming down her back in a ripple of gold.
He'd had no opportunity to talk to her--not that they had anything to say to each other--for he
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was now the travelling companion of Orboyd. The circus leader had taken the precaution of
chaining his guest to the wagon, but then proceeded to treat him like a favored friend, chatting
about Brigard, the fluctuating fortunes of his little band, his plans for the future. He regarded
Gerfalians as natural friends to the Brigardians, lamented the political circumstances that
temporarily put them at odds, looked forward to the day when those differences would be
settled by Gerfal bowing to the inevitable and submitting to Fergox. He referred often to his
master and hinted that Ramil would be seeing him soon.
"Who is your master?" Ramil asked frequently. "A Brigardian noble with a grudge against Gerfal?"
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Orboyd refused to be drawn. "I'm under orders not to say. But I assure you he will treat you as
befits a royal prince of noblest lineage. And one day, when you are King, I will be able to point to
you and say 'that man rode on my wagon.'"
Ramil thought it best not to mention that if he lived to be King he'd make sure that Orboyd was
caught and tried for his crime against the royal person, so he was unlikely to live to enjoy his
association.
"And the Princess? What does your master want with her?"
Orboyd shrugged, not very interested in that question. "Don't know. Hostage perhaps? He
doesn't like the Blue Crescent Islanders, but then who does, except perhaps their mothers?"
"Gordoc appears to like the Princess," Ramil suggested quietly. He was sick of hearing such
derogatory remarks about the Islanders from Orboyd, not least because they were
uncomfortably like his own comments made back in the palace.
"Oh, Gordoc." Orboyd snorted. "He's soft-hearted. Nursed an abandoned leveret this spring only 81
to cry buckets when he stood on it. I wouldn't pay much attention to him."
Tashi, meanwhile, sat beside the giant, letting his friendly talk wash over her. He let her mumble
her prayers at the appointed time, did not mock or try to startle her. He just occasionally stroked
her hair as if he could not believe its color and had to test that it was real.
She spent the time meditating on her anger. The
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murder of those two men in the forest had shocked her deeply. She was angry with her
abductors, but most of her rage was directed at all Gerfalians, and one in particular. No one
need have died if they had done their job of guarding her properly. How like Prince Ramil's
people to let the caravan over the border without even a proper search! The prince had been
useless as she anticipated and now seemed quite content to sit fraternizing with Orboyd when
he should be doing something before they got too far from Gerfal. What it was exactly she
expected him to do, she didn't know, but something, anything!
"Gordoc, do you know where we are going?" she asked hours later.
The giant almost dropped his reins, so surprised was he to hear his little travelling companion
speak. She had a nice voice too--soft and gentle.
"We're going to meet him," he replied. "That's all I know."
"Who's him?"
"The master."
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"Do you know his name?"
"Aw, little one, I can't tell you that." Gordoc passed her an apple.
Tashi twisted it in her fingers. "Can you tell me if he is a big master, like King Lagan, or a little master, like Orboyd?"
Gordoc chuckled. "You're trying to catch me out, aren't you? Well, he's nothing like Orboyd.
Much, much bigger. But never you mind, you'll meet him soon enough."
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Ramil persuaded Orboyd to let him join the Princess for a short time that evening as they made
camp. When he approached her spot by the tiger wagon, he found she no longer ate alone.
Tighe, Pashvin, and Gordoc sat around her with their bowls, watching her like an audience, even
exchanging critical observations about her performance of the ritual.
"She did that one beautifully," remarked Tighe as Tashi made a sinuous gesture with her hands.
"I thought yesterday's was a little more pronounced," Pashvin noted with the air of an expert.
"Today's is more subtle."
"She does everything beautifully," breathed an enraptured Gordoc.
Ramil sat down quietly and waited for her to finish. He admired her concentration with all these
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onlookers. Finally, he recognized the Crescent words of completion, having heard them often
enough from the delegation.
"As the Goddess wills," he muttered in Common.
Tashi folded her hands in her lap.
"Do you mock me for praying, Prince Ramil?" she asked.
"No, I thought I was being polite." Did she have to be so hostile? he wondered.
"I was told by your prime minister that you say 'God willing.'"
"We do, but I was trying to . . . oh, does it matter?"
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Ramil felt exasperated: he'd extended the olive branch only to have it snapped.
"Actually, it does matter," Tashi said simply. She was feeling more at peace with the world now that she had done her prayers. "My beliefs are important to me and if you are treating them
with respect that . . . well, that's an improvement."
Was it possible? Had a glimmer of a smile just appeared on her lips? Ramil thought.
"Now, you're laughing at me, Princess," said Ramil. "You think me an ignorant boor."
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"You are an ignorant boor, Prince Ramil."
Gordoc's mouth was hanging open. "She speaks so well, doesn't she, Pashvin?"
The tiger tamer nodded, fascinated by the exchange.
"Was that a joke at my expense, Your Highness?" Ramil asked.
"I thought you were the expert on jokes. You tell me." Tashi picked up her bowl and began
eating.
"When you put it like that, then I suppose, no, it wasn't really a joke because it's true." Ramil stretched out on the grass. "I'm a disgrace to my name. Been drunk half the time ever since I
was told I was to marry you. Managed to insult you and all your countrymen from the moment
of our first meeting--if not before. Add all that up and I suppose it does equal ignorant boor."
His honesty pulled on a thread in the knot of anger inside her, loosening it a little. She hadn't
expected him to see himself so clearly.
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"I'm sorry you hated the idea of marrying me, Your Highness. I wasn't that keen on marrying you
either," she admitted.
"I can imagine," Ramil said dryly.