Senrid Read online

  Two horsemen had detached from the Marloven army and rode directly up the bluff. Alaxandar stood, his hand on his sword hilt, waiting in silence; Faline waited next to him. After a moment she put her hand on her sword hilt as well. Faline’s profile was tense and unsmiling—in fact, to Alaxander and Kitty both, she looked exactly like Leander now.

  The two horsemen reined in a spear’s throw from Alaxandar and the fake king of Vasande Leror.

  Kitty peeked between leaves at the two men, one maybe twenty, the other much older. Both had light hair sticking out from under helms with horsetails streaming from the tops.

  The younger one carried a banner. The older one opened his mouth, but Alaxandar said before he could speak, “His Majesty Leander Tlennen-Hess of Vasande Leror requires you to withdraw from our border. We will wait the space of one glass after you rejoin your commander, and if we don’t hear the retreat, we will defend our borders as is our right.” He held up a small sandglass, ready to be turned.

  The older one leaned on his saddle-horn, as his horse bent its head and cropped at the long, sweet summer grass all dotted with clover. The other horse tossed its head—its mane was as yellow as the rider’s hair, Kitty noticed—and danced.

  “Well, now,” the older warrior said, his Leroran very accented. “What brought you out here today? Morning maneuvers?” He shifted his attention from the boy-king to the tough old fellow who obviously had some military training. Despite rumors…

  Faline just stood there, frowning at the Marloven warriors.

  That Marloven villain is stalling, Kitty thought. Faline was right about the plan!

  Alaxandar’s mouth deepened slightly at the corners, but otherwise he did not react. “Perhaps,” he said. “Morning maneuvers on our western border as well, along the old pass at the Aurum Hills. Only there, we’ve got the king’s favorite magician all ready to practice some spells. Mage-maneuvers, you might say. Turning the chance passing army into tree stumps, or something like.”

  From her vantage, Kitty saw surprise widen the two pairs of eyes before them.

  A quick exchange full of military talk ensued. Under the belligerence, it was clear that the Marlovens were trying to find out if their plan had been revealed. Faline and Kitty were amazed at how skillfully the gruff Alaxandar hinted that it had been known—somehow—since its inception, that the Leroran army was eager for a fight, and furthermore their magician was eager to see how his border protections would work.

  All three points made an impression, the girls could clearly see in the sidways glances the Marlovens exchanged, and in the covert sign the old one made to the young one with his gloved hand.

  Faline saw that the Marlovens were now looking her way, as if for a sign.

  So she turned to Alaxander, who held up the glass. That was it! She was a king, so she was supposed to give the command! She dipped her chin down in what she hoped was a kingly nod.

  Alaxandar gave a grim smile. “It’s time.” He raised his sword in the air, made a circle, then lowered it. And then he turned the glass upside down. Sand began running through.

  Abruptly the two wheeled their horses and rode back down the hill.

  Hand on sword, Alaxandar let out a long, slow breath. “I believe we’ve won,” he said in an undertone, without moving his head—almost without moving his lips. “We’ll know in a moment.”

  And sure enough, scarcely five breaths after they reached their commander, the trumpets below sounded a fall of notes that echoed against the hills and back.

  “That’s the retreat,” Alaxandar said, his face still grim. But he chuckled deep in his chest.

  The horsemen below galloped around, changing their formation, not for attack, but for retreat, and the long column of marchers wheeled left and started the long march home.

  “How’d you find them?” Faline asked, also without moving, since Alaxandar still stood motionless and alert, hand on his sword.

  “Our runners spotted their camps night before last. Leander spent the day and most of the night setting up the magic here, and in the pass. He’s there, where the magic battle is supposed to take place. We wait here for him to return—or for us to be overrun,” he added grimly. He tipped his head a fraction toward the forest behind them. “If they do charge, a few of my old band are stationed in Sindan-An behind us, and will make it hot for them along the road into Crestel. We know every tree and shrub in Sindan-An. A big army would be a big target before they dealt with the last of us.”

  Kitty, who had never heard such a long speech from Alaxandar, realized he was talking to Faline the way he’d talk to the real Leander, and inwardly she shuddered at the implied slaughter, glad that at least this army was going back home.

  She decided it was time to join the conversation, but as she stepped up, Alaxandar stopped speaking.

  Faline muttered out of the side of her mouth to Kitty, “This adventure has got my guts a-moilin’ and a-boilin’. I think in the future I’d as soon leave it to CJ, if the villains will cooperate.”

  Kitty snickered. Alaxandar—if he even heard—just watched the retreating line.

  The three waited, mostly in silence, for what seemed an endless time. The sun was peeping through a different group of branches when the dazzle and wind of transfer magic startled them all; once again Alaxandar put his hand on his sword, but dropped it away again when Leander appeared.

  “It’s over,” Leander said, smiling, though his face looked grayish with exhaustion. “Back home. Touch hands! Transfers are getting rough,” he added.

  They all took hands, and he did the magic to get them back to Crestel.

  “Leander, tell her your magic doesn’t work,” Kitty said, pulling on his sleeve a short time later.

  “What?” Leander looked down. The edges of Kyale’s face were blurry. He blinked, weary, longing for rest. “Kitty. I have the strength—I think—for one more spell. She saved us, and wants to go home. Don’t you think that’s an easy enough reward for us to provide? We owe her a lot more than that.”

  “That’s it,” Kitty whispered, looking over her shoulder at her dressing room door. “Don’t send her. I want her to stay! I like her so much—”

  “But she wants to go home.”

  “Well, why can’t she make her home here? You heard her tell us both she wasn’t born in Mearsies Heili, and that girl-queen has lots of other friends. Offer her money, or anything she wants!”

  Leander forced his eyes to focus as he looked down at Kitty’s unhappy face. He chewed his lip, trying to think, but trying for clear thought was too much like grabbing at butterflies. “I can’t offer her money, it’s an insult,” he said. “Kitty, it’s her home. Didn’t you listen to her the other night? Every other word out of her mouth was about what CJ says or Clair thinks. Those other girls are her family. She won’t want to leave them—”

  The dressing room door opened. Faline emerged, once again a short, stocky, smiling figure wearing a worn old tunic, trousers, her feet bare, her bristly red curls escaping two fat braids.

  “Here’s your duds back,” she said, handing Leander a bundle. “I put ‘em through the cleaning frame since I sweated ‘em up something fierce. Was I scared! But I’m glad we did it. Now I’m ready fer home. Wow, is Clair gonna be amazed! And CJ will want to know all the details, because she writes up our records. I hope I can remember all the jokes I make up for ol ‘3, so those can go in, too!”

  Kitty ran forward. “Please stay. You can have any room you want, any thing you want…” She stopped when she saw Faline’s eyes widen, not in pleasure, but in fear.

  In fear. She didn’t want to stay—that much was clear.

  Kitty forced herself to laugh, to back up. “Or if not, how about visiting again some time? And bring your friends!”

  Now Faline’s relief was unmistakable.

  Kitty managed a nonchalant smile. “Thanks again!”

  Leander felt the wrench of grief, because he read in Kyale’s loneliness his own inadequacy as a brothe
r.

  He’d never had a sibling. Except for those very early years, only dimly remembered, his whole life had been a struggle for survival, but at least he’d been surrounded by friends in his forest camp—friends and laughter and fun. Kitty had never had any of that.

  Resolving that each day he’d find time for Kitty and her interests, no matter what, he summoned the last of his strength, and did the transfer magic to send Faline safely home.

  THREE

  “Kitty.”

  They had just sat down to breakfast, and already the weather was hot.

  The summer had been long, and balmy, and recently the heat had intensified, as if the season was reluctant to make way for fall.

  Leander tried to look fierce, but it was such a false expression that Kitty giggled.

  “I have what I consider a reasonable request,” he stated, his tone mock-serious. “That you either confine those felines of yours at mealtimes, or else train them not to invade my rooms.”

  Kitty gasped. “I could never lock them up,” she declared, wavering between silliness and seriousness. “They need freedom! Especially now, when it’s so hot. Why, the big ones are never even around.”

  “It’s the small ones who climb on my desk, and who put cat hair all over my papers.” Leander added in an even more doleful tone, “And I resent the ‘freedom’ with which they leap upon the table and flavor my soup with yet more cat hairs, and help themselves to the cream—usually by spilling it first, for better access. Three books, now. Three.” He solemnly held up three fingers. “Have cream stains.”

  Kitty snickered. “Well, don’t put your books on the table, or your soup where it’s in reach!”

  Leander covered his eyes with his hands. “I ought to throw you all into the river. Except then you’d come back to haunt me.”

  “You’re sooooo right. Especially since you promised to teach me to swim.”

  “So I did,” he said, and mentally did a swift review. So much to do, so much to do, but he remembered his internal promise earlier in the summer, when Faline Sherwood had been with them so briefly.

  He grinned at her. “I know how to do it.” He pushed his plate away and sat back. “We’ll go back into Sindan to the old hideout, and we’ll get up on the bridge above the stream. You remember that stream, don’t you?”

  Kitty nodded, her eyes round. “It’ll be a river at this time of year.”

  “Right. Plenty of water. You’ll sit in the middle of the bridge rail and I’ll push you off. If you make it to the side, you’ll know how to swim!”

  “And if I don’t make it?” she asked, trying to sound ominous, but her silvery eyes were round with delight.

  Leander shrugged. “Oh, we’ll say that I’m a very bad teacher and remember it for future reference.”

  Kyale choked on a laugh, then flipped a bite of potato at him.

  “Arrrh! I just took a bath!” he snarled, and Kitty ran shrieking from the room.

  He chased her all over the palace until she collapsed, breathless with laughter, on the cool marble floor of the otherwise unused throne room. Then they played a game of hide and seek, which was always her favorite, because in this game she was as good as anyone else—if not better.

  She would happily have played all day, but finally he said he had to get back to work. She’d learned that when his eyes started going distant, and she had to recall his attention by repeating herself several times, that he wasn’t going to be any fun anyway, and that he would soon disappear behind his study door.

  She sighed, wishing she could close out the world like he did. Not that he was having fun when he did it. She knew that. But still.

  She wandered down the halls, then paused at a window and looked out at the jumble of rooftops of Crestel, the little city down the road from the castle gates. It was wonderful being a princess, but not when she was alone. Why couldn’t she make friends?

  She’d gone to the midsummer festival always held on the great square in the middle of Crestel, and she’d especially looked for girls her age. There had been lots of them, but mostly just farm girls or merchants’ daughters. The landowners rarely came any more.

  Kitty knew it was because she and Leander didn’t keep court, and the old midsummer balls and parties were only boring stories in the memories of old folks. The estate-owners celebrated on their own land, or with each other. Or with relatives. Neither she nor Leander had any relatives—that she counted, anyway. Leander was descended from kings, but the great Tlennens and Sindans were long gone, leaving only crumbling castles and territory names on the map. The rest of his family had dwindled into farmers and the like.

  She groaned as she looked at the slate roofs gleaming in the bright sun. She didn’t want balls and adult parties, with a lot of romance and disgusting stuff going on. She wanted games and fun, or parties where she had the prettiest dress in the room. “If only there was a way to have the old festivals but only with kids!”

  She’d have to talk to Leander about that. And she knew what he’d say, that his time needed to go into protecting the country, that they couldn’t afford the expense, that he was worried that Marloven Hess would try something knew, hoola-loola, hoola-loola.

  Kitty ran up the last, narrow stairway, and emerged on the castle wall. She looked at the green hills lining the western horizon, beyond which lay Marloven Hess. All she knew about them was that they liked fighting, and they were apparently ruled by a creepy sorcerer-king. Leander had been trying to find out more about them, for he hadn’t known anything, he said, before Faline came. But nobody communicated with them—so far, anyone sent over the border never returned. Faline was that rarity, someone who had successfully crossed the border, but that was only because she had employed her powers during her escape. Meanwhile the few historical records they had about Marloven Hess mostly dealt with the Marlovens in ancient times—when Vasande Leror was actually part of the Marloven empire.

  Kitty turned her back on the west and trailed along the northern wall, looking out at the distant greenish line of Sindan-An, and beyond. The morning was already hot, and haze made it difficult to see too far.

  Closer to home, the road was almost empty. Farmers coming to town had mostly come in at dawn, or even before. They’d wait until sunset to go back, and then the road would be clogged with people.

  Wait. Was that someone on the road? Small—barely visible, but as she watched, the figure gained detail.

  A lone walker—a kid! Someone’s apprentice? A messenger? No, those usually rode.

  She expected him to turn off down the main road into Crestel, but instead the boy seemed to hesitate, then marched on down the shrub-lined road leading to the castle!

  Someone coming to visit? Or just lost?

  Kitty felt the sting of the sun on her arms, and her neck was sweaty under her hair, so she decided it was time to go inside. If the kid arrived, she could get a closer look, and if not—well, she could always watch the road later.

  She ran down to get another breakfast cake to munch, and then up to her room. She pawed restlessly through the books she’d pulled out of the library, but she’d already read them all, and none of them looked interesting enough to reread.

  Besides, if that kid was going to arrive at the castle, it would be about now. She peeked out her window as the lone figure entered the empty courtyard. She squinted against the glare of sun off the crystal dots in the gravel scattered over the old flagstones. The boy looked like he was about her size and age. He had a round face and yellow hair, and was dressed in a white shirt and dark trousers and walking mocs. Plain clothing, but not poor: the shirt well-cut fine linen, with carved buttons instead of the usual laces down the front of a one-size-for-all cotton. But he wore no tunic, or any ornaments, and had no carriage or even a horse, so he couldn’t possibly be anyone.

  His head lifted and he scanned the windows. She jerked back, embarrassed at the idea of being caught staring. It was one thing to watch people, but she hated the thought of being watch
ed while watching!

  She leaned forward and peeked—in time to see the blond head pass beneath, toward the big double doors.

  Probably somebody lost, or wanting a job or something. Not that Leander would ever hire more servants, badly needed as Kitty thought they were.

  She flopped down on her pillows and settled for one of her favorite histories, about a princess from hundreds of years ago, who’d gotten into all kinds of adventures, fighting pirates…

  “Kitty? It’s time for lunch.” Llhei’s familiar voice punctured the long-ago time and far-away place of Princess Sharend.

  Kyale looked up, surprised. “Already?”

  Llhei nodded, wiping a strand of gray hair back. “Your brother wants to know if you’ll join them.”

  “Them?”

  “He’s got a guest—”

  “A boy? Yellow hair?” Llhei smiled slightly. “You’ve been spying?”

  “Just saw him in the courtyard,” Kyale said defensively.

  Llhei shrugged, and busied herself straightening the room. Kyale watched, sighed, got up.

  No use in asking more—Llhei had a short way with what she considered nosy questions. She was the only part left of Kyale’s life with her mother. Llhei had consented to stay with Kitty, but there’d been compromise: no titles, no curtseying. “I’m too old and creaky for that,” Llhei had said.

  Kitty had agreed, not wanting her to leave. It was Leander who recognized that Llhei had been more of a mother to Kyale than Mara Jinea had ever been, despite the constant flow of pretty dresses and princess crowns.

  She ran downstairs to the dining room.

  In obvious relief Leander said, “Come on in, Kitty. This is—uh, what was it again?”

  “Senrid,” said the boy. He had a pleasant voice and a sunny smile.

  “Yes, that was it. I’m sorry, I need them repeated a few times before I remember. My own included.” Leander grinned and the boy grinned back. “This is Kyale—”

  “Princess Kyale Marlonen,” Kitty corrected.