*About what? What were you wrong about, Anna?* I said the words out loud so Kendra would hear my side of the conversation.
*We are not in danger this moment, so calm down. It’s just that our plans have changed. We’re trying to sneak back to the fisherman’s shack. Well, the dock, anyway. They have a mast and sail stored there, and more oars. We’ve left the barge and everyone is in the rowboat.*
*I don’t understand.*
*It’s a big boat that has a place for a sail. Not big enough for horses, but we’re crammed in and heading for the dock. The boys will get the sail and extra oars, and we will row downriver instead of crossing to the other side. We’ll get Coffin on the way. Will thinks we can call softly and he’ll swim out to us. They have done something similar in the past.*
*What about the army coming after you with more boats?* I asked. *Isn’t Will worried about that?*
*No. The boys say the men in the army can’t row very fast because they aren’t used to boats, and with the sail to help move us, we can go faster. If we can steal it without being seen, we should be fine.*
*Okay, just keep us informed.*
*Will wants to know how you’re doing.*
*Tell him we are camped in the desert and a little rainstorm gave us enough water for a day or two. We plan to head to the coast now.*
*I should end this conversation. We’re almost to the shore beside the dock. There are guards on the shore. Hopefully none near the dock.*
I relayed all she’d told me. The fact that the dock had guards was not surprising but expected. They didn’t worry me too much. Will would have anticipated them and must have a plan. If the boat was spotted by one of the guards, they would probably row quickly to deeper water and escape in the darkness.
With the night in the Brownlands came cold. Our clothing and blankets were wet, and the night turned miserable as we shivered in wet clothing. Kendra said, “Next time, we’ll move our things before you make it rain. Can you dry our things?”
“I may be able to make them burn, I’m not sure. Want me to try?”
She tossed the last of our tiny store of firewood on the small fire we huddled near.
“How did you know?” I asked.
“That you could make rain? I didn’t, of course, but when you pushed that tree from the ground, I realized how much stronger your magic has grown. The thought of that increase is still amazing, but even more—is what else can you do?”
“Like what?”
“Like . . . do you need a bow to make an arrow fly through the air? Can you just make it fly?”
I started to object as if her suggestion was silly, then paused. If I pushed trees out of the ground and flung them a dozen paces, an arrow should be far easier. It was simply a matter of practice. Practice and control. The arrow would have to be handled delicately, not by brute force. However, it would need less magic than the tree to make it fly, and as it did, I could control where it flew. I’d actually done that before.
That line of thinking carried me to another. I reached out and pulled heat from the rocks lining the fire, some of it deep from inside of them, and drew it closer to us in a softly swirling circle of warmth. It was not a lot but helped.
“Is that you making it warmer?” Kendra asked.
“It is,” I told her while trying not to sound too proud of myself.
“Why not just use your magic to build a bigger campfire? Wouldn’t that be easier?”
Like most sisters, she had a way of pricking my accomplishments until they burst like soap bubbles. Pop. I had made it warmer, and she suggested an easier solution. I said while trying to sound confident, “Trying something new.”
She said without turning her head to look at me, “Sometimes the old ways are the best. I’ll gather some more firewood.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
As I sat beside the fire, sleep was heavy in my eyes when Anna contacted me again. *We did it.*
*Did what?*
*Will and the two fisherman-boys snuck up on the guards at the dock and tied them up. We pulled alongside and loaded the sail that was wrapped around the mast and extra oars. They even managed to snatch more arrows and some food before the alarm sounded.*
*Alarm?*
*A loud whistle. The guard-watch, Will said. We just pushed away from the dock and rowed into the darkness as easy as thieves, which I guess we were, come to think of it.* A mental giggle followed.
*What’s happening now?*
*They got the mast set up and the sail is out, but there isn’t much wind. Four of them are rowing, which is pretty funny. They need to do it all together, or the oars bang into each other, but they are so bad we’re laughing. Princess Elizabeth is a hopeless rower but won’t give up her oar.*
I told all of that to Kendra, and both of us laughed as we imagined her trying to row in step with the others—and failing. The oar she manned clashed with the rhythm of the others. It would anger her, and Elizabeth would try harder, which seemed to be the case from the little Anna told me.
We decided that by morning, Elizabeth would have mastered the skill, but there would have been several clashes of will before then. The idea of her ordering her subjects to row in step with her instead of her adjusting to their pace had us laughing far into the night. She wouldn’t match them, they would match her—or else. Neither of us believed she would allow others to do work she couldn’t. Our princess was not built that way. She worked as hard, or harder than any of her subjects, with the possible exception of me.
When I said that last part out loud, Kendra fell into another fit of laughter. Sisters. My assessment of how hard I worked didn’t seem at all funny to me.
I stopped talking since Kendra couldn’t remain serious, and almost instantly fell asleep. When I awoke in the morning, she had already packed and watered the horses in the shrinking puddle. I drank far more water than I wanted but had heard that you couldn’t drink too much in the desert.
My mind wanted to go back and think about the rainstorm, if a storm twenty paces across can be called that, I’d created one. I forced my thinking in other directions. There are times when direct thought is required—and others where it is not.
The mind is odd that way. Not thinking about something often produces better results than dwelling endlessly on the same thing. There was too much information to put in its proper place—and that didn’t leave room to consider what else I might do. I turned to my sister.
Kendra said, “That was good for me. Last night, I mean. I haven’t laughed so hard since we left Dire.”
“At my expense.”
She grinned and tried to placate me with false sincerity. “I know, you work harder than any of us.”
Before agreeing, I came to my senses and ignored the statement. It was true, nonetheless. Only a sister wouldn’t recognize my qualities and achievements.
We rode to the top of the same hill, or more precisely, mound. From there we surveyed the landscape searching for signs of life or movement, which might mean danger or that we were being followed. Strangers probably didn’t mean anything good for us and we’d avoid any. We found nothing out of place.