Edward winced. That sounded too specific!
"If you make the right choice, you will live, but then you will have to choose between honor and duty."
"I beg your pardon, ma'am. How can honor and duty ever come in conflict?"
She turned her head away suddenly in dismissal, and he thought she would not answer, but then she added: “Only by dishonor will you find honor."
Bunk! Edward thought, more nettled than he wanted to admit, even to himself. “Honor or friendship, then honor or duty ... Do I get a third wish?"
She did not reply for a long moment. Just when he had concluded that she would not, she whispered, “Yes. Honor or your life.” Then she waved him away without looking around.
Soon the Gypsy caravan was ambling along the lanes of summer England, heading Edward knew not where. Creighton, having snared his victim with an oath of obedience, now refused to answer questions, or even hear them. Time for forty winks, he said.
"How are you at dancing?” he inquired brusquely while they were undressing.
Edward admitted he could probably manage a slow waltz.
"And how are your teeth? Any fillings?"
"Two."
"Pity.” Creighton stretched out on the lower bunk in his underwear.
"Are those necessary qualifications in recruits to the Service?” Edward clambered into the upper berth, banging his head in the process. Even with the windows open, the wagon was stuffily hot.
"Very much so,” said a smug voice from below him. “A knack for languages helps. How many can you speak?"
"Usual school set: French, Latin, Greek. A bit of German."
"You took the medal in German. How about African?"
"Bantu."
"Which Bantu?"
"Embu, of course, and Kikuyu. A smattering of Meru and Swahili.” That sounded like bragging, so he added, “Once you've got a couple of them, the others come easily. Anyone can read Italian or Spanish if he knows French and Latin."
Creighton chuckled at something. “A faculty for language helps, but you're far too young. If it wasn't for the Filoby Testament, I'd throw you back. I was looking for men in their fifties or sixties. Women even better. Didn't find any."
In five minutes the man was snoring.
37
DRAGONS HAD A NOTORIOUS DISLIKE OF WATER, BUT when Dragontrader had coaxed Starlight to cross Narshwater, the others had followed. He had relegated Sister Ahn to the fourth mount, named Blaze, and insisted that her sword be bound to its pack. There had been another fight over that, but she had yielded when he pointed out that the hilt would still be within her reach.
"What pass is this?” Eleal asked wonderingly as the procession raced northward over the grassy hills of Narshslope.
"No pass,” he growled. He was still mad. “Dragons don't need passes. Your hill straps all right?"
She nodded. In fact the belt was uncomfortably tight, but having seen Starlight scramble down a temple wall, she had a strong suspicion she was going to need it.
The sun was climbing higher, shedding real heat. Soon a valley enclosed them, providing shelter from the wind, and she began to feel warm—a rare sensation in Narshvale. A few hours’ sleep would be nice, and she remembered Gim's remark about the bread shop in Morby with regret, but obviously the fugitives must hurry on their way. The Narsh guard would discover Sister Ahn's deception soon enough.
Dragons in motion spread out and she had no one to talk with. The saddle had begun to chafe already. Yesterday at this time she had just begun plucking chickens—she cocked a mental snoot at the temple. Pluck your own fowls, Mother Ylla! The day before, the oracle had spoken, and the day before that she had unmasked Dolm. On Ankleday she had been an aspiring actor looking forward to a ride on a mammoth. Life had been very simple back then.
For half an hour or so the fugitives raced up a brush-filled valley, climbing steeply alongside rapids and waterfalls. Trees were rare in Narshvale, and no other obstacle was a hindrance to dragons. Eventually the valley curved off T'lin Dragontrader's preferred path; he put Starlight at the slope. At the top, he called a halt to let the mounts catch their breath, and they automatically closed up near one another.
Eleal was astonished how high they were already—perched on a windy, grassy ridge with all of Narshland spread out before them, cupped within the icy peaks of Narshwall and dappled by shadows of clouds. Even in summer it was more tawny than green; hard country good only for grazing. Here and there she saw the scars of mines. Gim was staring at it all openmouthed.
"Never seen it like this before?” she asked.
He shook his turbaned head. “I'm not like you. I've never been anywhere! Well, I've been everywhere down there.” He waved at the valley. “We go on picnics sometimes, Mom and Dad and the girls and me. Thunder Falls, up there. Daisy Meadow over there. You know, you can walk across the whole land and back in a day, if you own some good boots. You can walk from one end to the other in two days—Dad did, once."
Eleal would not want to try that, but a strong man probably could. “There are smaller vales,” she said helpfully. “And some larger. In Joalvale there are places there where you can hardly see mountains at all!"
Gim looked suitably impressed. “Sussland is much bigger, isn't it?"
"It's broader,” she said. “Not much longer, maybe. Lower, hotter."
"Tell me about the festival,” Gim said, but mention of their destination had reminded Eleal that she had prophecies to fulfill.
Sister Ahn was sitting as erect as she could on Blaze, one gnarled hand behind her, clutching her precious sword. Her haggard face seemed relatively content and unthreatening. Before Eleal could question her, though, T'lin Dragontrader intervened.
"Sister, I don't suppose your prophecies tell you which is the best way through this?” He waved irritably at the jagged rock and ice filling the northward sky—gray and white, with hardly a speck of green in view anywhere.
"No."
"Or whether Ois will contest our passage?"
"She may.” The nun sniffed. “She wishes to stop Eleal and myself, but you and the boy may die also. I cannot say."
T'lin uttered his inevitable snort. “Religion is such a comfort in times of need!"
"Holy Tion will shield us,” Gim said devoutly. “We are pilgrims to his festival."
"Indeed?” For the first time, Ahn showed some interest in him. “You plan to play your lyre for the god?"
"I'll enter if Dragontrader will permit me to."
T'lin snorted again. “Think you can win a rose, do you?"
"Oh, no!” Gim looked down at his boots and mumbled, “I'd be honored just to try."
The red beard parted in a toothy smile. “You might win the gold one."
The idea had occurred to Eleal a moment before T'lin spoke. Gim turned his face away quickly and said nothing.
The dragon trader shrugged, apparently regretting his ridicule. “Oh, never mind. I think we'll try for that gap there. Looks like a good place to be eaten by snow tigers."
Eleal saw her chance. “Sister, will you tell me now what is going to happen in Sussland?"
The old woman frowned, and then nodded. “Certainly! In fact I should probably give you some instructions as soon as possible, because the holy testament does not specify exactly which day the wonderful event will occur."
"Instructions?"
"Yes. There may not be time after we arrive, you see? Unless you are already experienced, of course."
"Experienced in what?"
At that moment T'lin shouted, “Zomph!” and Eleal was thrown back against the baggage plate as the dragons flashed into high speed. Whatever Sister Ahn said was lost in the wind.