Princess Interrupted, page 20
part #1 of Prophecies Series
“You can read its mind?”
He chuckled. “No, I can’t read minds. I can just tell things like if someone is thinking angry thoughts, or being deceitful.”
“So what does the cat’s aura say?”
Grisham stared at the approaching aura and, as the giant cat’s whiskered face broke through the grasses, he said, “She’s curious.”
The cat sniffed deeply and sneezed. She made a rapid coughing noise followed by the same deep vocalizations that the other large cat had made.
Grisham translated for Arabelle’s benefit. “The other cat was fevered and probably dying, and when he spoke it didn’t make much sense. All I could gather was that he called himself Midnight. I think his infection had affected him so much that he was acting purely on instinct. This cat I understand perfectly. She thinks I’m a cat in a dwarf’s disguise.”
“Can you talk to her?” Arabelle asked.
Grisham grinned. “How do you propose I make some of those sounds?”
Arabelle whispered nervously, “Maybe you should change shape and talk with her. You can tell me what happened afterwards.”
He dug within myself and found that pool of power that had become easily accessible thanks to Arabelle’s disgusting pain reducing powder. Sharp twinges of pain erupted along his body as his vision changed. Moments later, Grisham was the identical image of the large fevered cat he’d seen. He sniffed at the female swamp cat and instinctively knew she was healthy.
She looked at him curiously. “Why disguise yourself as a no-tail when that isn’t what you are?”
Grisham felt some amusement and humored the large swamp cat. “There is much to learn from the no-tails. I have been studying with them.”
“How do you disguise yourself like that? Can I do such a thing?”
“No, only those of my family can.”
Was that even true? I never heard of such a skill before. Maybe I have this ability only due to Seder’s intervention?
“Family?” The cat cocked her head. “They can do such a thing?”
Grisham’s tail swished nervously. “I have no family. They are all dead.”
The female swamp cat blinked and made an odd noise that almost sounded like chirping. “I feel such pain. My cubs have all died. Captured by no-tails with my mate. I found their broken bodies close to the swamp where they were taken.”
“Was he also completely black?”
“Black yes. When you removed your no-tail disguise, I thought you were my mate. You now look exactly like him. My senses are confused by your scent.”
Of course. I modeled my look against the only swamp cat I’d ever seen. It must have been her mate.
“I and this female no-tail released your mate from a no-tail trap. He is injured though. The wound smells bad. He is heading back toward the swamp.”
The giant cat sat on her haunches and gave an almost imperceptible purr. “When you are done with the no-tails, come back to the swamp. My mate and I would welcome one such as you in our family.”
She stood, turned, and sprinted to the north.
Arabelle and Grisham agreed to approach the caravan in different directions. Arabelle, who could easily outrun him, ran ahead to sneak back into the caravan unseen.
He staggered clumsily into visual range of the caravan’s guards and heard the whistles blow an alert. Within moments, a cloud of dust rose from the caravan gate. He heard the hoof beats of galloping horses. As the horses slowed, Grisham saw the incredulous look on the soldiers when they first saw him.
He looked down at himself and cringed. His clothes were covered with blood, mostly from his head wound. The clothes themselves were so nearly useless he thought more of him was showing than was hidden. He couldn’t recall where his shoes may have gone. At this point, none of it mattered.
A final set of hooves pounded the dusty plain and Oda appeared out of the dust riding on his pony. When his eyes found the young Ta’ah, his mouth dropped open. “By Seder’s long white beard, boy – we thought you be captured or dead!”
His head throbbed. Oda’s image wavered as it seemed like he was looking at him through a long tunnel. Grisham suddenly felt arms supporting him, and lifting him up as he declared, “I escaped.”
“I don’t remember anything after that,” Grisham explained as he looked at Nicholas with wonder.
He had only thirty minutes ago woken on a cot in the infirmary of the soldier’s barracks. Next to him was someone with his arm and leg elevated in a splint. It wasn’t until his eyes were able to focus and the buzzing in his head cleared that he realized that Nicholas slept on the cot next to him. He’d thought him dead, since the only captives from their party had been himself and a soldier who died from a head wound.
Grisham asked, “Why didn’t you get captured and stuck in a cage like me?”
Nicholas shrugged and then winced painfully as his arm moved. “Lucky I guess. I got thrown by my horse during the melee, and he broke my leg when he landed on it. I must have passed out when that happened. Evidently they didn’t check me too closely since I was bleeding from a head wound and my leg was bent behind me. They likely thought me dead.”
“So how did you break your arm?”
“Not sure about that one either, but I seem to remember someone yelling about running over some dead person. I am unsure if I dreamed it or not, but I think the wagon the slavers were using had run over me while I was lying on the ground in a stupor. It wasn’t long before someone came looking for us and found me and poor Robert. I was in only slightly better condition than him, and he broke his neck as he fell from his horse.”
Grisham rubbed his temples trying to get rid of the headache that plagued me.
I must ask Arabelle for more of that horrid powder.
He turned to Nicholas and grinned. “So, did anyone find the sheep?”
Nicholas chuckled. “You know, I asked the same question. Wouldn’t you know that those damned sheep actually found their way back to their pens at feeding time. Evidently they were out looking to frolic.”
Grisham groaned melodramatically. “Figures...”
Arabelle
Chapter Nineteen
Visions of the Past
“I sometimes wonder if I was meant to be something other than what I am.”
Grisham
After a year of doing this every night, Arabelle’s internal clock reliably woke her every two hours and she noticed that Maggie must have been in her tent. Her bath had been drawn and was steaming. She also saw a new bowl of fruit on her nightstand.
She panicked when her limbs didn’t respond. Arabelle struggled to move her arms and legs. She heard the crackling of muscle fibers as she overcame the stiffness of her limbs and slowly lifted herself up from a prone position. Her breathing came in short pulls of air, and she strained to take in deeper breaths. From a sitting position, Arabelle rubbed at her legs and managed to stand.
Did I oversleep?
This wasn’t the first time she’d felt the results of the poison on her body. However, the symptoms grew worse with each incident.
Her muscles screamed in protest as she moved into her regular stretching exercise. Soon enough, she’d forgotten about her morning’s difficulty, and basked in the warmth of her exercise.
After she completed her exercise, Arabelle shivered despite the heat when she thought of the strange fluid oozing from the man she killed.
That couldn’t possibly have been blood.
As she settled into the warmth of her bath and began to relax, Arabelle glanced again at the lamp that rested on the table. She was pleased that the tincture she’d used on her eyes had worn off and the light didn’t pain her any longer when she looked at it. Arabelle closed her eyes and thought again of the previous night.
She felt a snake of guilt coiled tightly around her stomach while the princess recalled the moment that she killed the slaver. Her breathing felt labored, and she knew she’d never forget the moment when, at her hand, the light in a man’s eyes faded into darkness.
Arabelle sighed and tried to wipe the visual from her mind. She felt a distinct pride of accomplishment bloom as she reminded herself that she’d rescued her friend from the horrid slavers. Unbeknownst to him, she’d kept watch on Grisham from a distance. She continued to watch until Arabelle saw her people retrieve him as he stumbled into sight of the night’s guards. With the distraction of Grisham’s arrival, it was easy for her to sneak into the merchant quarter. She quickly stole into her tent, stripped off her clothes and tossed them in her chest. Arabelle dove onto her mattress and within moments found herself napping.
As she relaxed in the water, Arabelle sensed Maggie at the entrance to her tent and opened one eye just as her handmaiden poked her head in to check on her. Arabelle grinned at the familiar face and waved her in.
“Lady Arabelle, are you finished soaking?”
She slowly stood and stretched her arms and legs until they popped, reminding her of the sound of Grisham’s shape-changing ability. Maggie handed the princess a large towel. Arabelle rubbed herself from head to toe and noticed Maggie looking at her with an odd expression on her face.
Arabelle rubbed her hair with the towel stared back at her. “What are you looking at?”
Maggie smiled fondly. “You aren’t a little girl anymore, Princess.”
“Of course I’m not! I am now fifteen after all.”
Maggie handed Arabelle her undergarments and laughed. “I just remember when you were made of arms and legs that looked like sticks, and you kept tripping over your own feet. Now, you move gracefully, almost like a cat, and your body has grown curves that are going to be catching everyone’s attention.”
Arabelle finished putting her dress on, and even though she didn’t have a mirror handy, she could look down at herself and see that her hips were a little wider than she remembered them being, while her waist seemed to taper nicely inward. She shrugged. “Not much I can do about my hips Maggie. Its either have hips or lose more weight. You already yelled at me for being too skinny, so you’re stuck with me as I am.”
Maggie gasped, “I never yelled.” Her face reddened. “I might have hinted you needed to eat more.”
The princess gave her a quick hug. “From you, that’s yelling.” Maggie drained the tub into containers for later disposal. Arabelle sat on her chair. “So what’s new? I haven’t seen much of you lately.”
Maggie froze for a moment, and Arabelle saw tears glistening in her handmaiden’s eyes.
“What’s wrong? Did I do something? Can I help?”
Maggie shook her head and gingerly wiped her tears. With her voice crackling with emotion, she whispered, “Hassan is dead.”
She knows! Oh how terrible...what does she know?
“Tell me. What happened?”
Maggie sat on the edge of her bed and took a deep breath. “Tabor was kind enough to come to my tent yesterday when he found out. He told me that he died valiantly on a long distance scouting expedition fighting slavers.”
“Oh Maggie, I’m so sorry.”
Maggie sniffed and looked up with a smile. “Tabor even said that he was given a proper burial just like an Imazighen.” She paused. “I always knew he would prove himself worthy of our people.”
Arabelle gave her a heart-felt hug and silently thanked Tabor for the kindness he’d given to her friend. When she’d learned what happened to Hassan, Arabelle knew that Maggie should never learn the horrible truth of what she’d seen, and who was responsible.
Maggie pulled back. “Oh Lady Arabelle, I almost forgot. Tabor wanted to talk to you after you’re presentable.”
They stood and Arabelle kissed Maggie on the cheek. “Thank you for everything, Maggie. Remember, time heals all wounds.”
All wounds except mine.
Maggie smiled wanly. “I’ll go ahead and tell Tabor you’re done.”
Her stomach gurgled in protest, and Arabelle snatched a few berries from the fruit bowl.
Moments later, Tabor stuck his head into her tent, “Princess? Can we talk?”
Arabelle waved him in. To her surprise, he walked in with a tray of food that he laid on the ground and, without a second thought, she sat down and scooped some rice into a bowl. As she lifted a couple of the lids and scooped a few things into the bowl, Arabelle asked without even looking up, “Tabor, will you join me to break my fast?”
“No, Princess, I have eaten already. I figured you would be hungry after last night’s activities.”
She froze as she dipped a spoon into a bowl of spicy yellow sauce that contained peas with chunks of fowl.
Had he seen me sneak out?
Arabelle looked up at Tabor, and he stared at her with one eyebrow cocked upwards.
“Which activities are you speaking about, Tabor?” She asked.
His bearded face revealed no hint of what he was thinking. Only his brown eyes seemed to indicate signs of activity as he muttered, “Oh nothing. I might have guessed you would have snuck out to console your friend Maggie regarding what we had both learned yesterday in your father’s tent.”
I can’t lie to him. I have too many secrets and lies in my life already.
She continued to scoop food into her bowl nonchalantly as her mind worked quickly. As Arabelle lifted the lid to the next bowl and gave careful attention to the food underneath, she said, “No, I didn’t sneak out to talk to Maggie. Though I did find out this morning what you told her. It wasn’t exactly what I expected she would hear.”
Tabor cleared his throat and Arabelle looked up. To her surprise, his face had a sheepish cast to it. “I knew of your handmaiden’s talks with the Nameless soldier...”
“Hassan. His name was Hassan.”
Tabor nodded. “I knew that she cared for Hassan, so I took it upon myself to talk with her and make sure her memory of him remained a pleasant one. I apologize for not talking with you first, but you had already retired to your tent and I didn’t want to disturb you.”
Arabelle gulped as she thought of what Tabor might have found, had he looked. She ate her spoonful of spiced fowl and rice, chewed, and swallowed. “I think it was kind of you. Though I think you should maintain what you started. I’d want Hassan to be remembered not as a Nameless, but as one of the Imazighen.”
Tabor grunted his assent. “It is within your right to declare such. I had overstepped my authority.”
It is within my right?
Arabelle had never given it much thought, but she’d seen father expel lawbreakers from the Imazighen and declare them Nameless. Why not the opposite?
She looked up at Tabor. “I will not tell my father, I think you did this as a kindness to a girl you knew I cared for. I think you deserve a boon, not a criticism.”
Tabor shook his head vehemently. “No, Princess, I have already told your father what I have done. I cannot keep anything from him.”
“And...?”
“Your father said much as you did. He holds no fault to my actions. As the head of your father’s guards, and your mother’s appointed guardian, thus yours, I simply needed to clear my honor and tell you both what I did.”
Arabelle wiped her mouth with a cloth and stood. She grabbed Tabor in a hug and spoke into his chest. “You’re an honorable man, and I love you for it.” She took a step back. “Can I ask a favor?”
Tabor looked down with a look that seemed to hold a warring of emotions just under the surface, and nodded. “Anything you ask is my will, Princess.”
“Can I ask you some things about combat? I need you to tell me all the details truthfully, and ask no questions why I’m asking.”
Tabor put his hands on his hips and stared at her quizzically. She stared back, awaiting his response. After a moment’s pause, Tabor looked down at her half-finished tray and said, “I will do as you ask, but finish your food, Princess – you will need to keep up your strength.” As he turned, he declared, “I will return in fifteen minutes with some supplies to start our conversation.”
He immediately departed and she stared at the tent flap as it closed. “Supplies?”
Tabor sat across from her with various bits of armor and weapons arrayed between them. He slowly cast his open hand across the collection of combat implements. “I’ve brought with me a series of items involved in combat. Even though you may never wear heavy plate, you should know about such things and how to combat foes who might wear it.”
She looked at the various plate, chain, and leather armors and suppressed a smile. Arabelle hadn’t intended to have such a conversation, but she welcomed the opportunity to learn. She studied the armor and it brought her back to last night’s harrowing experience. Her stomach turned as the images of her attack and the slaver’s subsequent demise flashed in her mind. A moment of nausea hit her, and she looked up at Tabor. “Can I start by asking a few specific questions?”
He nodded. “Of course, Princess. Anything you want to know, I will try to enlighten you.”
Arabelle rubbed her chin, feeling nervous. “I’d been thinking about the use of my daggers. I had visions about the need for me to strike out against an enemy...”
Tabor’s demeanor immediately took on a serious look. He leaned in, listening intently.
“I saw myself having to strike out, but couldn’t clearly see how I was to succeed in achieving a quick kill. If the moment ever arises, I would hope to kill instantly or not attack at all. What are the most lethal approaches for striking an enemy with only a dagger?”
Tabor nodded thoughtfully. “Princess, that is a very important question. I’m happy that you’ve brought this up. Lesson one in combat – you don’t unsheathe your dagger unless your intent is to kill, and kill quickly.” He pointed a finger at her to emphasize. “No bluffing either. No reasonable person would consider you a serious enemy armed only with a dagger. If your intent isn’t to kill, you shouldn’t bare a weapon. There are too many dangers in any other behaviors for one such as yourself.”
Arabelle motioned for him to go on.
