Or, a soldier, highwayman, assassin, or mad killer. If a person or persons were ahead, and if they were friendly, they would have shown themselves. She shook her head. No, if they were friendly but scared, people would react just like her. Ahead might be a frightened girl and her brother, scared to emerge and face Prin and Brice.
“We might stay here all day if we do nothing,” Prin said.
“Shh, we’ll wait them out. Move slowly to the side of the road and slip into the grass ten or twenty paces and hide.”
The advice Brice gave was correct, even if it sat wrong with her. She didn’t like hiding. Facing a challenge was more to her style, but she crept to her left, careful not to leave footprints or scuffs, and especially to be careful not to flatten grass with her clumsy feet.
Brice pointed. A small juniper spread out a few steps further ahead. It grew only knee-high, but that was enough. They laid behind it, facing the road, but where they couldn’t be seen. Peering through the green/blue of the juniper, the road was visible.
Prin realized she liked the smell of Juniper, a sharper tang than cedar, but similar. Her nose was comparing the two when she heard a soft noise like a scuff of a foot on the hard-packed road.
“You’re sure you saw something?” A whisper floated on the dead air.
“Shut up and keep your eyes open.”
Prin remained still and watched two men wearing military uniforms creep along the road, their eyes watching to either side, but not at the roadbed where footprints were most likely to be found. Her opinion of them as effective soldiers decreased. She might have identified herself if the colors were blue and white, but instead, they wore green with red piping. Green was the color Ansel troops wore.
She watched them pass by, supposedly alarmed yet they hadn’t pulled their weapons from the sheath. If Prin wore two throwing knives, she could have killed both. But she was not at war with them and didn’t want a confrontation, especially if it meant she might be taken to Ansel and questioned. If they managed to learn her true identity, they would hold her for ransom, even though Peermont had no idea she existed.
If there were two soldiers, there were more nearby. She watched them disappear down the road. However, she couldn’t hope for deer to warn her of their presence in the future.
She whispered, “We can’t leave the road in this marshland.”
“Our feet will sink to our knees,” he agreed.
“But if we stay on the road we’ll be stopped. I guess we just have to be prepared with a good story.”
Brice smiled. “Your story will work. I’m not a good of a liar, so you do the talking. Do you think we should age ourselves and continue as older people?”
“No. That weakens our story about searching for new markets. I do wish we had samples of weavings, but they are being shipped and should arrive in Calverton after a few days.” She paused, thinking of what else might be problems. “What’s in your backpack that will give us away?”
“Nothing.”
“I have other spells in my second purse, but it’s inside my waistband and hopefully will be safe.”
Brice said, “If they find it?”
“Then they’re looking where they shouldn’t be. But I’ll claim they are samples of dyes and softeners for weaving and tell them to squeeze one of the grapes for themselves. I guess we need to stand up and walk on the road like two innocent visitors to this strange land.”
The two soldiers on patrol were still out of sight, so they stood and began walking. Shortly after reaching the location where the deer bolted, they rounded a slight bend in the road and found an encampment of twenty or more soldiers. Several turned to them in alarm. One shouted, “Hey, what are you doing?”
One, dressed in a uniform with red piping and a few gold decorations, strode purposefully in their direction, waving back the others. “I am Captain Hans. How did you get past my men?”
“We hid behind a juniper,” Prin said in a tone as if that response was the most natural thing in the world, and the question was silly. Her attitude and stance were those of confident young women who encountered people of a lesser social grade.
The officer puffed himself up and pulled to a stop a full step closer to her than was socially acceptable. Prin rolled her eyes and watched his anger flare.
“Who are you?” He demanded, spittle spraying.
She sighed with obvious disgust as she wiped at her clothing while pretending to remove any spittle that reached her. She raised her eyes to meet his. “I am Prin, and this is my brother Brice. We’re on our way to Calverton for a business meeting with the owner of a store that sells weavings.”
The officer didn’t back down. “You look too young to be in any business meeting.”
She glanced at Brice and shrugged as if tired of explaining the same things over and over. “How many of you are going to tell me that? Our Father owns the business, and his father before him also. Brice will own it someday, but for now, we are traveling to make useful contacts. After Calverton, we move on to Wren, and then Indore. Does that anticipate all the boring questions you were going to ask?”
Brice said, “Prin, you need to stay calm and be nice to the soldier. If not, he may hold us up because he’s an officer and very powerful.”
Prin recognized Brice’s move in pumping up the officer, and amazingly, it seemed to be working. She played the ingenue, and he complimented the soldier—a powerful duo. She took his lead and reached out to the officer’s uniform and ran the tips of her fingers down the material.
He was startled and stepped back, but she moved forward. “Is this standard issue for your army? Nice material. Looks good and I’ll bet it’s durable, right?”
“Uh, yes. I guess so.”
She moved closer, using the same intimidation trick he’d attempted. Prin decided he was barely older than her, perhaps twenty, and from his pink cheeks, he probably had little experience with the opposite sex.
Prin noted the other soldiers had stepped back, lowered their weapons, and were trying to hide smiles. She asked in her little-girl voice, “All this stopping and asking questions is delaying us. Can I be so bold as to ask you to write me a military pass that will tell the next, not so handsome officer, that you have cleared us?”
“Uh, I guess I could.”
She slipped ahead before he could retreat and looped her arm with his elbow while fawning over his dark eyes. “May I walk with you while you get your pen and ink? And what is your name, sir?”
He muttered a name she didn’t remember and squeezed his bicep while oohing and cooing about how strong he was. At the edge of the duty tent, he quickly sketched out a few lines and signed the pass. “Would you like to eat the noon meal with me?”
“I wish I could, but we are already behind schedule.” Prin saw the disappointment and a flash of anger in his eyes. She quickly added, “But if you are still assigned here in ten days when I return, I’d love to eat with you. Maybe a long dinner with only candles?”
He puffed himself up again and quickly agreed. Brice remained within sight, but out of the way. With the pass in hand, Prin strode in his direction and mouthed, “Let’s go.”
They took the path north again, walking fast, but not running. A glance behind found the officer standing in the middle of the road looking very pleased with himself.
Brice said, “Well done.”
“No, I was obstinate, and you were the one that was nice, at first. That showed me the way.”