She began packing with a vengeance. There was not much, but she checked to make sure everything she’d brought from her father’s apartment was safely stored. It was too dangerous to take it with her and too valuable to risk. Maude would send it later. She threw a few clothes into another bag. In minutes, everything she intended to take was packed in three small bags, one of them a backpack. Not a lot for nearly six years.
A soft knock sounded.
At her call to enter, Maude slipped in, closing the door gently behind her. Words failed Prin, but few were required. Promises were made, thanks given, and it was time to leave.
The four of them climbed into the waiting coach, but the combat master strolled down the road in his limping gait before it departed. He paused and asked, “Room for one more?”
Of course, there was. Prin decided to finally ask his name, but he spoke first, “The Order of the Iron Ring told me to pass on a message to you.”
Sara gasped, placing her hands near her mouth. Prin stiffened.
Maude said, “Don’t keep us in suspense.”
“Every mage, fortune hunter, assassin, low-life, and sneak-thief is on edge and searching like never before. Word came this morning that the King of Wren died and the heir is missing.”
Maude drew in a deep breath. “Just another problem to solve.” She reached into a pocket and withdrew a small glass vial. After pulling the stopper, she wet the tip of her finger, leaned forward and gently touched a drop to the neck of the driver.
Sara said, “He will forget all he sees and does during this afternoon.”
Maude reached inside her coat and retrieved an envelope made of rough brown paper. She sprinkled a few granules of the contents over the heads of the three travelers and said, “You all know how to act—we’ve practiced this a dozen times. Now, make me proud.”
Prin watched the features of Sara droop and sag, wrinkles digging furrows across her face while her nose expanded. Her fluffy brown hair turned dull and limp. Brice did much the same. He appeared well over fifty, probably closer to sixty. His chest deflated, his neck thinned, and his hands grew gnarled. A glance at her own hands confirmed the changes were taking place to her, also.
Maude and the combat master remained the same. The driver hummed a tuneless melody. Sara accepted the proffered envelope and slipped it into her pocket, then buttoned the flap. Most of the rest of the short trip passed in silence. As they neared the docks lounging men, and a few women, were watching all passersby with greedy eyes.
They passed three mages, all young, and probably none had yet been confirmed as full mages, but all were anxious to claim the prize of locating Princess Hannah. With that claim came a lifetime of gold and more. The soon-to-be Queen Eleonore would appoint that mage to a high post in her royal court.
The eyes of those searching took in every detail of those passing. The carriage was standard transportation for Gallium, and the five passengers didn’t meet the descriptions of either Hannah or her companion. Twice ravens flew nearby, and one landed on the carriage before Prin could wave it off.
Maude chuckled. “Wouldn’t that be ironic? Having the same ravens that were dispatched to warn you giving away your identity?”
“I have never liked ravens or crows,” Prin snapped.
Maude turned to the combat master. “She has the perfect mannerisms and crankiness of an old woman, don’t you think?”
He curled a lip. “Even when she fights.”
“Do not,” Prin said automatically.
They laughed at her, but the sight of another mage cut it short when he strode into the road to stop the horse. The combat master started to climb down as he snarled, “I’ll gut him and throw him into the alley for the rats to feed on.”
Maude reached out and took his arm. “Wait.”
From the deep shade of the overhang of a doorway, a figure emerged. He stood tall, back straight, and he was armed with a bare blade worn through a rusted iron ring on his belt. Without seeming to hurry, he reached a spot one step ahead of the mage. He held a palm out, pressed against the chest of the mage—then gently pushed him back several steps while the carriage lumbered past.
Prin hadn’t heard any words passed between them. But the Order of the Iron Ring demanded respect in all lands. The figure was more than a full head taller than the mage, and his other hand rested lightly on the hilt of the sword. A glance behind found the two of them still together, the mage shouting and waving his arms in anger. The other calmly listening.
The carriage pulled to a stop with the confrontation still within sight. Prin looked ahead and found a sleek ship sporting three tall masts. Her eye for ships picked out details, especially after sailing as part of a crew for half a year. That knowledge told her she’d never boarded the likes of this ship.
Her impression that the ship was sleek deepened when she mentally measured the width of the deck. It was no wider than the cargo ship she had sailed when leaving Indore nearly six years earlier, yet it was more than twice the length. The sharp bow would cut through the waves instead of climbing over them, the three masts were twice the height of those on the Merry Princess. A row of windows ran from bow to stern. Flags of all colors waved from the mastheads, and from anywhere else that might add a little gaiety.
She sniffed the tang of the air of the harbor, finding the scents of tar, sawed wood, sweat, canvas, and salt water, refreshing. Like going home. In other circumstances, the thought might have drawn a smile.
The driver was busy unloading their baggage while a porter shouted for help to carry it across the gangway. As their belongings disappeared into a doorway on the main deck, the reality that Prin might never see her fighting instructor or Maude again, took hold. She would sail with Sara, but Sara would return with the ship, perhaps never to meet again. Only Brice would travel with her to Wren.
Prin had a thousand things to say, but few words passed her lips. She was hugged, whispered to, and kissed, but knew little of what happened until Maude was helped up into the carriage by the one-footed man who had taught her so much about fighting and life. For the first time, Prin noticed they sat closer together than was necessary or proper. How did I miss that?
They waved as the carriage pulled away—then it was gone from sight, and Prin had never felt so alone, especially in the crowd of people swarming around the pier.
Sara interrupted her thoughts. “Don’t turn around. A mage is coming this way.”
Prin now wore a third knife to complement those on her thigh and between her shoulder blades. It was shorter than her little finger, the blade wide and sharpened on both curved edges. The handle was flat bare metal, worked with a simple filigree design, the whole thing dipped in a nonreflective finish. The knife slipped under the broad leather belt she usually wore, located where her hand naturally fell, should she need it.
“He’s talking to another. I think we should hurry aboard,” Sara said.
Brice took Prin’s arm and escorted her as if she needed the support. Together, they appeared three elderly, but not old, people who might have been related. Prin’s instincts told her to run onto the ship and the safety it offered, but her mind told her to move slow and careful, using tiny, faltering steps.
From the corner of her eye, she noticed the mage had finished his examination, or interrogation, of the young woman and now looked for his next potential princess-in-hiding. She averted her eyes and refused to move quicker, despite her direction taking her too near the mage. Any change of speed or direction would draw his attention and suspicion.
As they passed, Sara’s shoulder almost brushed his robe. Then they were on the temporary gangplank leading up to the deck of the ship. Brice helped Prin move or gave that appearance, while the mage stepped aside to question another passenger. Her breathing returned to normal.