The rock on which Fire sat fit the curve of her body; she could fall asleep here. She closed her eyes and considered how to admit to him that he was right. "I do turn a lot of men around, just as you say, and the occasional woman. My guard never even knows about them. But those are the ones who only want to look or touch or tell me things – the ones who are simply overcome, or think they love me, and are gentle in their feelings." She hesitated. "The ones who hate me and truly want to hurt me – yes, you're right. Sometimes I let the most malevolent men attack me. If they attack me they'll end up gaoled, and gaol is the only place other than death where they'll no longer be a danger to me. Your army's too big, Lord Prince," she said, glancing at him. "Too many people for me to manage all at once. I need to protect myself however I can."
Brigan humphed. "I don't disagree. Your guard is more than competent. As long as you can stomach the danger of it."
"I suppose I should be more used to the feeling of danger by now," she said. "But it is unnerving sometimes."
"I understand you crossed paths with Mydogg and Murgda as you left my mother's fortress in the spring," he said. "Did they feel dangerous to you?"
Fire remembered that unsettling double gaze. "Obscurely. I couldn't quantify it if you asked me to, but yes, they felt dangerous."
He paused. "There's going to be a war," he said quietly, "and at the end of it I don't know who'll be king. Mydogg's a cold and greedy man and a tyrant. Gentian's worse than a tyrant, because he's also a fool. Nash is the best of the three, no contest. He can be thoughtless; he's impulsive. But he's fair and he's not motivated by self-interest, and he has a mind for peace, and flashes of wisdom sometimes – " He broke off, and when he spoke again, he sounded rather hopeless. "There's going to be a war, Lady, and the waste of life will be terrible."
Fire sat in silence. She hadn't expected the conversation to take such a serious turn, but it didn't surprise her. In this kingdom no one was many steps removed from grave thoughts, and this man fewer than most. This boy, she thought, as Brigan yawned and rumpled his own hair. "We should try to get some sleep," he said. "Tomorrow I hope to take us as far as Grey Lake."
"Good," Fire said, "because I want a bath."
Brigan threw his head back and smiled at the sky. "Well said, Lady. The world may be falling to pieces, but at least the lot of us can have a bath."
Bathing in a cold lake posed some unforeseen challenges – like the little monster fish, for example, that swarmed around her when she dunked her hair, and the monster bugs that tried to eat her alive, and the need for a special guard of archers just in case of predators. But despite the production of it all, it was good to be clean. Fire wrapped cloths around her wet hair and sat as close to the fire as she could without setting herself aflame. She called Mila to her and rebandaged the shallow cut that ran along the girl's elbow, from a man Mila had subdued three days ago, a man with a talent for knife-fighting.
Fire was coming to know her guard now, and she understood better than she had before the women who chose to ride with this army. Mila was from the southern mountains, where every child, boy or girl, learned to fight and every girl had ample opportunity to practise what she'd learned. She was all of fifteen, but as a guard she was bold and quick. She had an older sister with two babies and no husband, and her wages provided for them. The King's Army was well-paid.
The First Branch continued its journey southeast to King's City. Almost two weeks in and with about one week left to ride, they reached Fort Middle, a rough stone fortress rising out of rock with high walls and iron bars in narrow, glassless windows: the home of some five hundred auxiliary soldiers. A mean-looking, stark place, but everyone, including Fire, was happy to reach it. For one night she had a bed to sleep in and a stone roof above her head, which meant that so did her guard.
The next day the landscape changed. Very suddenly, the ground was made of rounded rock instead of jagged: smooth rock rolling almost like hills. Sometimes the rock was bright green with moss, or with veritable stretches of grass, and even a field of tall grass once, soft to their feet. Fire had never seen so much green and she thought it the most beautiful, most astonishing landscape in the world. The grass was like brilliant hair; as if the Dells itself were a monster. It was a foolish thought, she knew, but when her kingdom turned dazzling with colour she felt suddenly that she belonged to this place.
She didn't share that thought with Brigan, of course, but she did express her shock at the world's sudden greenness. To which he smiled quietly at the night sky, a gesture she was beginning to associate with him.
"It'll keep getting greener as we approach King's City, and softer," he said. "You'll see there's a reason this kingdom is called the Dells."
"I asked my father once – " she started; and then stopped tongue-tied, horrified that she had begun to speak kindly of Cansrel before him.
When he finally broke their silence, his voice was mild. "I knew your mother, Lady. Did you realise that?"
Fire hadn't realised it, but she supposed she should have, for Jessa had worked in the royal nurseries at a time when Brigan must have been very young. "I didn't know, Lord Prince."
"Jessa was the person I went to whenever I'd been bad," he said, adding wryly, "after my mother was through with me, that is."
Fire couldn't help smiling. "And were you often bad?"
"At least once a day, Lady, as I remember."
Her smile growing, Fire watched him as he watched the sky. "Perhaps you weren't very good at following orders?"
"Worse than that. I used to set traps for Nash."
"Traps!"
"He was five years older than I. The perfect challenge – stealth and cunning, you see, to compensate for my lack of size. I rigged nets to land on him. Closed him inside closets." Brigan chuckled. "He was a good-natured brother. But whenever our mother learned of it she'd be furious, and when she was done with me I'd go to Jessa, because Jessa's anger was so much easier to take than Roen's."
"How do you mean?" Fire asked, feeling a drop of rain, and wishing it away.
He thought for a moment. "She'd tell me she was angry, but it didn't sit like anger. She'd never raise her voice. She'd sit there sewing, or whatever she was doing, and we'd analyse my crimes, and invariably I'd fall asleep in my chair. When I woke it'd be too late to go to dinner and she'd feed me in the nurseries. A bit of a treat for a small boy who usually had to dress for dinner and be serious and quiet around a lot of boring people."
"A wicked boy, from the sound of it."
His face flickered with a smile. Water splashed onto his forehead. "When I was six Nash fell over a tripline and broke his hand. My father learned of it. That put an end to my antics for a while."
"You gave in so easily?"
He didn't answer her teasing tone. She looked at him, his eyebrows furrowed at the sky, his face sombre, and was frightened, suddenly, of what they were talking about; for again, suddenly, it seemed they might be talking about Cansrel.
"I think I understand now why Roen lost her mind whenever I misbehaved," he said. "She was afraid of Nax finding out and taking it into his head to punish me. He was not... a reasonable man, in the time I knew him. His punishments were not reasonable."
Then they were talking about Cansrel, and Fire was ashamed. She sat, head bowed, and wondered what Nax had done, what Cansrel had told Nax to do to punish a six-year-old who probably even then had been clever enough to see Cansrel for what he was.