“What's all this?”
“I'm trying to decide what to pack,” Adrina told him. “I wish Tam were here. She was so much better than me at this sort of thing.”
“What happened to the slave Marla sent you?”
“She was an idiot. I sent her away.”
Damin stepped into the room and examined the chaos scattered around the room more closely. “Why are you packing?”
“For Medalon, of course.”
He stared at her as if his hearing had suddenly failed him. “You're what?”
“Packing for Medalon. Do you think I'll need the fur?”
“No, Adrina, you won't need the fur. Or anything else, for that matter. You're staying here.”
She looked at him in astonishment. “Of course I'm not staying here! I'm coming with you.”
“In case it's escaped your notice, Adrina, you're having a baby.”
“I'm only pregnant, Damin, not terminally ill.”
“I'm not going to risk you or our child by taking you into a battle.”
“Oh for the gods' sake, Damin. If I was a peasant I'd be working in the fields until I dropped the brat and then I'd be back in the fields the very next day.”
“That brat, as you so eloquently put it, is the heir to Hythria.”
“Then travel will be good for him. It will broaden his horizons.”
“Neither are you a peasant,” he added, not at all impressed by her attempt at levity. “I forbid you to come.”
“I don't recall asking your permission.”
“That's because you knew damned well I wouldn't give it.”
Adrina threw down the fur cloak and put her hands on her hips. Mikel shrank back a little, having seen Adrina in a similar mood before. Her eyes glittered dangerously.
“Damin, I think we need to settle something. I am your wife. I am not your court'esa, or your lackey, your slave or your possession. I am going with you. If you refuse me, I'll simply find my own way there, but one way or another, I will go to Medalon.” Then she smiled suddenly, as if making her declaration had settled the matter. “Besides, you need me.”
“Why do I need you?”
“Because my father will be leading the Fardohnyans and you really don't want to confront him without me there to calm him down.”
“I can manage.”
“Don't be too sure about that,” she warned. “You don't know my father.”
Damin took a deep breath. He did that a lot when he argued with Adrina, Mikel noticed. “Adrina, even if I conceded the point about your father, the fact is, the Hythrun heir must be born on Hythrun soil. If you come to Medalon with me, you will deliver the child before we can get back.”
“Is that your only objection? Mikel, come here!”
Damin turned to stare at him as he edged his way around the High Prince to reach his mistress. Although Damin rarely paid him any attention, he was still more than a little afraid of the Hythrun Prince.
“Your Highness?”
“I have a job for you, Mikel.” She marched over to the bed and pulled one of the pillows from it, shaking it out of its silk cover. She handed Mikel the pillowcase. “Take this out to the gardeners and ask them to fill it.”
“With what, Your Highness?”
“With Hythrun soil, of course.” She looked up at Damin and smiled triumphantly. “If it's Hythrun soil you want so badly, Damin, then I'll simply take some with me. Off you go, Mikel! There's a good lad.”
Damin shook his head. “There's no way I can talk you out of this, I suppose?”
“No.”
They stared at each other, debating who was likely to give in first. Damin Wolfblade finally threw up his hands in defeat. He wasn't happy with the idea, but he seemed to admire her spirit. Cratyn would have hit her, Mikel thought with a twinge of guilt.
“Go on then, Mikel. Get us a sack of Hythrun soil. And guard it with your life, boy. We may need it in a hurry.”
Although the fighting had not reached this far, Gaffen's Fardohnyans had used the palace gardens as a shortcut from the dock below the palace and trampled everything in sight in their haste to join in the fray. The statuary was pushed over, the shrubbery bent and shredded, and even the large fountain in the centre was broken, its water dragons cavorting in a dry pool with snapped-off noses and missing fins. Mikel wandered through the vast gardens for quite a while, looking for someone to fill the pillowcase with soil. The gardeners were nowhere in sight.
“A sad sight indeed, don't you think?”
Mikel glanced across the broken fountain and discovered the old man sitting on the edge of the pool. He had not seen him for a while, but he seemed to pop up in the strangest places. Although he looked a lot like the old man he had seen in the stables in Roan Vale, Mikel had convinced himself it could not be the same person. This man roamed the Hythrun palace at will. He was, so Mikel figured, a retired slave or old family retainer, who had been given the freedom of the palace in return for a lifetime of service. Mikel often bumped into him in quiet, out-of-the-way places, and had come to think of the old man as a friend, although if pressed, Mikel wasn't sure he even knew the old man's name.
“They'll fix it eventually, I suppose. They're too busy rebuilding the houses to think about fountains.”
“Ah, yes, the ever practical Hythrun,” the old man chuckled. “They were always like that. One of the reasons I could never get much sense out of them.”
“What do you mean?”
“Nothing. So, are you off to Medalon with the others, then?”
He nodded and walked around the fountain to sit beside the old man. “I'm going with Princess Adrina. I'm her page now.”
“That's wonderful!” the old man cried, patting Mikel on the back. “You must be very proud. Imagine the things you will do, the places you will see, the important people you will meet.”
“I suppose. I'll probably meet the King of Fardohnya. He's going to Medalon, too.”
“Is he now? Won't he have trouble getting there in time?”
“The Harshini Glenanaran said the gods are going to help.”
The old man's expression grew fierce for a moment, as if some uncontrollable anger had suddenly consumed him. Then it was gone; so quickly that Mikel thought he had imagined it.
“Well, he should be fine then. And what of you, my young friend? Will you see the demon child again, do you think?”
“I suppose so.”
“That is excellent news. I shall have to give you a message for her.”
“Do you know the demon child?”
“Very well,” the old man said. “Very well, indeed.”
Mikel looked at him curiously, not sure what it was about the old man's tone that unsettled him. “What did you want me to tell her?”
“Ah, I shall have to compose my message most carefully. I will see you before you leave. I'll let you know then. Now, what are you doing strolling the gardens of the palace clutching an empty pillowcase, my lad?”
He glanced down at the pillowcase and shrugged. “Princess Adrina wants me to fill it with Hythrun soil in case she has her baby in Medalon.”
The old man laughed. “A wise precaution. Well, don't let me keep you from such an important task, Mikel. We'll meet again, never fear. And I will give you my message for the demon child.”
Mikel stood up and turned to say goodbye, but the old man was already gone.
CHAPTER 49