“I think it must be a demon!” Andor insisted. “They can look like anyone—very dangerous to trust a demon.” He appeared more upset than anyone. He sounded almost shrill, and that was surprising, somehow.
Yggingi seemed to think so. He eyed Andor curiously, then called to his men to lower their bows. “Come out!” he bellowed, more loudly than seemed necessary.
And a man stepped from behind a tree right in front of them. How he had come so close without her seeing, Inos could not guess, but there he was – a slim young man in soiled leather garments, holding out empty hands to show his lack of weapons. He was panting.
“Inos!” he said.
Rap!
He had grown—taller and wider. His clothes were incredibly filthy and his face impossibly grimy, especially around the eyes. It seemed greasy, with the rain running down it in droplets, and it looked much thinner than she remembered, making his jaw look bigger than ever, his nose wider. He had a youth’s thin moustache and patchy beard. He was bareheaded, his brown hair matted in slimy tangles. Ugly! But it was Rap.
She began to tremble, stupidly.
“He’s no goblin, certainly,” Yggingi said to no one in particular. “That’s close enough! Who are you?”
“The princess knows me.”
“Do you?” the proconsul asked.
“Yes,” she said. “He’s one of my father’s stablehands. Rap? What are you doing here? And what’s that on your face?”
Then she caught a whiff of an unbearable stench. “What’s that smell?” Her stomach churned.
“That’s goblin stink!” Yggingi said grimly. “Stand back from the ladies, you!”
Rap did not move, except to put his hands on his hips. He had obviously been running and he spoke in short bursts. “Sorry about the perfume. No bathtubs in the forest. I came to warn you that your father is dying, Inos. But I see that you already know,”
Had Rap also come all this way to warn her? She glanced up at Andor, who had his jaw clenched and was scowling. “Sir Andor told me.”
“Oh, it’s Sir Andor, is it?” Rap frowned fiercely. “I have another warning for you, then.” He raised a hand and pointed. “Don’t trust that man! He’s a—”
“Rap!” she shouted. “What do you know of Sir Andor?”
“He sold me to the goblins, that’s what I know about him.”
Sold him to… Again Inos caught a whiff of that terrible smell.
Andor raised his sword and took a step. She laid a hand on his arm to detain him. “Andor, do you know Rap?”
“This is not whoever you think it is, my darling. It’s a forest demon. They can take many shapes. Don’t trust a word it says. They are very evil.”
“Andor! Rap, how did you get here? Aunt Kade, it is Rap, isn’t it?”
“I don’t know, dear. I never met him.”
“What are you?” Yggingi demanded. “You’re not imp and you’re not goblin.”
“It’s a demon!” Andor insisted. “Or a wraith!”
A wraith? Inos shuddered convulsively. Surely not?
“I’m a faun.” Rap was still watching Inos. “A jotunn-faun mongrel, and goblin by adoption. But not by choice—that was his doing.” And again he pointed at Andor.
Inos wondered why she could not just quietly faint, as ladies of quality were supposed to do in moments of stress. Rap had always been so dependable! Others might make up fantastic stories or play elaborate jokes, but Rap never had. And it certainly seemed to be Rap, an older version of the boy she had known—except for the moustache, and those barbaric tattoos.
“Rap,” she said, forcing her voice down from the squeaks it wanted to use, “what are those marks round your eyes?”
Rap gaped for a moment, raising his hand to his face as if he had forgotten the tattoos were there. “These?”
Andor stepped back with a laugh. He sheathed his sword. “I did meet him!” he said. “I didn’t recognize him in that goblin disguise. I met him in Krasnegar. Tell her Highness how a goblin earns his tattoos, lad.”
“I didn’t!” Rap shouted.
“Didn’t what?” Inos asked.
“You tell her, Proconsul,” Andor said.
“No, you tell her.” Yggingi was scowling.
“He tortured a boy to death.”
And Inos said, “No!” just as Rap repeated, “I didn’t!”
“He must have done,” Yggingi said. “It’s their custom.”
Then Andor put his arm around Inos, and she was very grateful for it. “And he’s the one who sold me the horses.”
“Sold you the horses?” she repeated idiotically.
He nodded, still staring at the apparition from the woods. “I asked some people where I could acquire horses, and I was directed to that boy. We met in a bar and he sold me two horses.”
Rap! They must have been her father’s horses. There were no others in Krasnegar. Of course Andor would not have known that. Rap, selling the royal horses? In bars?
“Liar!” Rap shouted. “He’s lying, Inos! We left Krasnegar together and he sold me to the goblins. He bought safe passage for himself by selling—”
“Rap! No! I won’t listen to—”
“Inos, he’s a sorcerer!”
She had rather liked Rap once, she remembered, when she was younger. Of course in those days she had known very little about men and almost nothing about gentlemen. Fortunately she knew better now, after Kinvale, and she could appreciate the way Andor was keeping his temper in spite of the insults being shouted by this filthy derelict. Rap had obviously reverted to some sort of savage state—his faun ancestry coming out, probably.
“If you were sold to the goblins, you’re in remarkably good shape!” Yggingi said. “Spying for them, are you? Come forward here with your hands high.”
“No!” Rap said. “Inos, you know I wouldn’t lie to you!”
Oh, Rap! Her heart lurched. Then Inos looked up at Andor again. He smiled sadly and shook his head. She saw how foolishly juvenile her momentary doubts must seem to him—and how mature he was not to lose his temper at the insults or at her silly wavering. She must not listen to any more nonsense, and that stench was making her feel nauseated. Inos lifted her chin disdainfully and turned, letting Andor lead her away.
“Inos!” Rap shrieked. “He’s a mage, or a demon, or something—”
Yggingi waved his men forward. “Bring him in! Tie him up.”
Then all the horses reared and screamed in inexplicable panic. Hooves flailed. Men were hauled off their feet, or dragged through the mud. It seemed to be Inos who was the source of terror-plunging mounts fled from her in both directions along the road and even off into the undergrowth. Enormous animals bowled over whole groups of soldiers. The officers' roars were drowned in oaths and whinnyings, splashings and thuds. Amid this instant chaos, she found herself, with Kade and Andor, isolated on the trail as the whole cohort fought to regain control of its frenzied livestock. The goblin apparition had vanished away into drippy shadow under the ancient trees.
Andor hurried Inos back to the coach. “Take cover in here!” he shouted over the racket. “This may be an ambush.” Then he thrust her inside and Aunt Kade, as well, while the troopers were struggling to restore order to their mounts. Inos was glad to obey.
With the carriage still canted at an absurd angle, she found herself being half crushed by Aunt Kade, and yet she did not mind. The human contact was very comforting.
“It was Rap,” she whispered, fighting tears and a heart as panic-stricken as the horses.
“Yes, dear.”
“But selling Father’s horses? In bars?”
“If he really did steal two of the palace horses,” Kade said, “then he would have been found out, wouldn’t he?”