They ate more eggs. She was tempted to try cooking a chicken but wanted to leave and put some distance between them and the farm. Catching, butchering, and cooking a chicken would take too long.
Or not. Prin went to gather more eggs to scramble and while there selected a fat hen and cornered it in the pen. She grabbed it by its feet and used a string to tie them together, then carried it upside-down to the cabin after turning the others loose. After eating, she tied it to her backpack and planned for a good meal at the end of the day. Chickens raced into the yard, clucking and searching for snacks.
Brice said, “Ready to leave?”
“Almost,” she said. Turning, she looked out over the farm from the path, then turned to the two men still sleeping peacefully. The sight of them brought the anger welling up inside.
She said, “Want to practice throwing fire?”
“You do it.”
She cast a ball of flame at the hay-barn first, then one at the tool shed. Each ignited the sun-dried wood and burst into flames that spread before she could cast more fire. The outhouse burst into flame before she cast fire at it, and for a second she was confused. Then she heard Brice cackle.
He said, “I thought I’d join in on the fun. Can I set fire to the next?”
“Of course. I shouldn’t have all the fun. Besides, there are no other nearby farms to cause alarm.”
Within a few heartbeats, every structure was on fire, the animals fleeing, and they turned their backs to the farm and headed for Peermont’s capital city. They didn’t pass another farm until late afternoon. Prin’s initial reaction was to avoid it, but as they walked past, a woman stepped to the doorway and waved. Both Prin and Brice returned the wave but didn’t stop.
The only vegetation in sight was gnarled and grew less than knee high. Almost as much tan colored rock as tan dirt showed on the road, and Prin started to worry about the lack of water. Perhaps they should have stopped and filled their canteens at the previous farm. As her worry increased, they walked to the top of a small rise and looked down at a wide river with lush, almost impenetrable walls of green on either side.
The sea lay somewhere off to their right, but too far away to see. From their elevated position, the twin banks of green continued until lost in the distance, broken by what appeared neat squares of tilled farmland.
The sail of a small boat skimmed across the muddy water of the river that was twice as wide as the Indo, but it moved in a sluggish manner evident even from the distance they watched. Prin’s eyes traveled upriver to a larger boat, one without sails. Men rowed while sitting, the oars moving in unison.
“Different,” Brice muttered.
“See a road?”
“Let’s move closer. There must be one.”
Their voices were quiet as if someone nearby might overhear. Prin felt the first twinge of fear that her plan may not work. But she forced the fear away and squared her shoulders. Her idea had to work.
The dry air gave way to cooler temperatures as they neared the river. Within the shelter of overhanging trees, it almost felt cool, and they located the expected road. Prin turned to face upriver on the road could move a single wagon through the ruts and holes, many filled with water. The water in the holes was clear, an indication no wagons had rolled this way for a while, but didn’t tell if people had skirted around them, as she and Brice were doing.
She watched for footprints in the soft mud at the edges and within a few steps located some pointing in the same direction. However, none appeared recent. She saw no more farms or cabins, but the land was low and marshy and probably flooded every spring, so farms were probably located on higher ground.
Brice slipped and almost fell in the slippery mud, bringing a snort of humor from Prin. His face reddened, and he snapped, “Okay, I’ve tried to figure out why we’re going this way and can’t. You need to go to the King’s Palace in Wren, not off on some other adventure.”
“Just because you almost fell doesn’t mean you can yell at me.”
“Who’s here to listen?”
“Not the point,” Prin said, still smirking in the way only siblings can. “I thought you’d figure it out.”
“I haven’t. If we go this way, we’ll have to retrace our route. That may take ten or fifteen days.”
“A month is my guess.”
“Month? I thought you were in a hurry to help King Willard before another king has an accident,” Brice said, his voice rising again.
“Listen, calm down. We need help to do this, you and me. We can’t barge in like we planned. Look at what happened on the ship with so many people hunting the rewards for me. In Wren, it will be ten times worse.”
“We’re getting help?”
“I already told you. Peermont and Wren are sister kingdoms, and they used to be ruled by one family. My mother is from Peermont, and she was a Royal. That means I am too. I’m probably somewhere in their Line of Succession too, but that’s why we’re here. To get help.”
Brice pulled up and waited for her to turn around. “You are aware that Peermont is at war with the Dry Lands of Ansel, right? They’ve been fighting for control of the coastal lowlands for over a generation and Ansel is winning, from what I hear.”
Prin placed her hands on her hips and said, “All that is true, and from that, you should be able to determine why this is where I must go for help.”
“To a kingdom losing a war that cannot spare a military escort?”
“Exactly.”
“Prin, I have to admit that you’re smarter than me—most of the time, but not today.”
“You are my knight?”
“I am.”
“Then, we will proceed to the capital city of Calverton and meet with King Edward.”
She turned and walked away as regal as any monarch in history, and eventually, Brice followed. He jogged to catch up and said, “I suppose I’m going to sound stupid again, but you do know we’re in the disputed lowlands, right?”
“I do. But we are just travelers attempting to find a new market for our father’s weavings. He’s a respected carpet maker in Gallium, and we are searching for new buyers and do not take sides in local wars.”
Brice shook his head in wonder, probably amazed at the speed and depth of lies Prin could tell. He said, “I know nothing about carpets.”
“Of course not, you’re the stupid wayward son who takes no interest in the family business. Anyone can see that.”
“You don’t either, except you walk on them.”
Prin said, ending the exchange, “Of course not, I am in sales and expansion, not production. We hire people to do our weaving and buy supplies. Didn’t I tell you we were successful and came here to find new markets?”
Brice silently fell into step behind her. She strode on, keeping a sharp watch for others, especially any military. She didn’t wish to use her explanations on anyone who might be clever enough to see through her story.
Ahead, a startled deer leaped from the waist-high grass on the left of the road, all the way to the right, without ever touching the road. It had turned its head in mid-leap, looking behind itself instead of at Brice and her. In the heat of the day, deer tend to rest and hide, only venturing out to graze at sunup and sundown. Something besides her and Brice had scared it.
Prin dropped to one knee, senses alert. She didn’t have to turn to look at Brice. The sounds of him kneeling were obvious, and she knew he would take her lead without question. Ahead might be a coyote or bear. Deer flee for any sound, noise, or even a dead branch falling from a tree. Their survival depends on fleeing at the slightest provocation. A field mouse might have startled the deer.