I stood with her and we went out the back way where the stable was located. He appeared as if by magic, in his carriage. We climbed inside, she sat beside him again.
“Where to?”
“Just a ride around Malawi and some talk,” she said. “Hear any good rumors today?”
He laughed, “I don’t know what you did last night, but everyone is talking about the princess with the gold crown, which I suppose is you.”
She pulled a coin and placed it in his hand. “Before I forget to pay you. We’ll be leaving soon.”
His face paled. “Too much.”
“I only pay what a service is worth to me. You’ve been here and looked out for us.”
“I cannot accept this,” he tried handing it back to her.
Elizabeth turned to face him. “I am a princess and will meet with your king this evening. We will need you to take us to the castle, but are you forcing me to tell him you have insulted me?”
He broke out in a grin—and then it faded slowly. “Your meeting might be delayed. The castle is a dangerous place today. A small army slipped inside and is hunting down any royalty or supporters of the crown. The loyal army has been locked out of the south wing where the king and his family is located. The mages are advancing on them.”
She said, “And the invaders are in the south wing?”
“Yes,” he said.
She pointed to the castle looming high above us. “Which is the south wing?”
He pointed to the wall above the tunnel we’d emerged from. Instead of the reaction I expected, which was to charge up the hill and enter the tunnel, she turned to quiet introspection. Then she said, “Is there an armorer that sells bows nearby?”
He turned a corner and sped up. He said, “You cannot go inside.”
She refused to answer. People on the street scattered at our approach, a few shouted insults as we raced past them, but Bran only shouted for the horse to run faster and used his whip to get them moving faster. He finally pulled to a halt and pointed to a doorway. A placard beside the door held a stylized bow.
She leaped out of the carriage before I could, and I followed her inside. A customer was talking to a man, but she stepped between them. “Excuse my rudeness but I need two short bows and arrows right away.”
The dour customer smirked and said as an insult, “I suppose you’re going to practice your archery? That’s why you interrupt my discussion? You can wait until I’m finished.”
“I intend to defend Malawi today. And your king,” she snapped, then turned to the shop owner. “Now, enough talk, show me your weapons or face my wrath.”
Behind her, Honest Bran said to the shopkeeper, “Better do it. Either that, or I’ll tell your wife about that wench at the roundhouse you’ve been sneaking off to see.”
“Short bows, you say?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
There are times when it is just better to do as Elizabeth says without asking questions or arguing. The weapons seller seemed to understand. He excused himself from his customer and moved quickly to where the bows were hung in neat rows. Those on the top row were smaller, highly curved, and thick. He considered them, selected one, and held it before us as he touted its qualities.
Elizabeth snatched it from his hands and strung it angrily. She tested the pull and it met her needs. No sense of listening to a sales pitch. She asked, “Arrows? And a target?”
He motioned to a hallway that had been converted to shoot; the rear wall a target with straw behind crude images of animals. She fit an arrow and let it fly. No aiming. Just pulled and released. The arrow struck high.
She thrust it at me.
I found the pull stronger than expected, but no problem.
She said to me, “A weapon for small spaces like inside caves or tunnels.”
“Fine,” I said, and she whirled on the seller.
“We’ll take another just like it, two full quivers to fit on belts, and please be quick about it.”
“Three of everything,” Bran said firmly.
It was easier for Elizabeth to agree than argue. The stunned customer watcher her pay, refuse to wait for the few coins from where she paid too much, and I was fastening a quiver to my belt as I walked behind our driver who was doing the same. Once in the carriage and moving, I said to him, “What are you doing?”
“This is my city. I’ll help defend it.”
“You don’t understand,” I said, intending to tell him more and pausing to decide what and how much.
Elizabeth said in my stead, “We escaped the palace through a hidden tunnel. There sounded like an entire army chasing us. When we go back inside, through that same tunnel, they may be waiting for us. If not, we’re going to search for the king. It will be dangerous.”
Bran followed her directions and as we arrived, he said, “I think I understand. The king and his sons are trapped in the south wing. The loyal army, last I heard, was preparing to mount an offensive, but the castle was constructed to withstand a direct attack. We’ll go inside and fight.”
Elizabeth said, “Stealth can be more valuable than a hundred men attacking directly. A thousand well-trained troops in a hallway wide enough for four is no different than fifty. Not my words, but those of my father’s Weapons-Master, the man who taught both of us to fight.”
I couldn’t help myself. “Bran, you really need to reconsider. The mages have a small army inside and there are only two of us.”
He said as we stopped and climbed down from the carriage, “Then I am half of the size of your army. How can you turn me away? Besides, I am fighting for my king. What are you fighting for?”
“My king,” I answered as I carried my short bow in my left hand and adjusted the quiver, so it didn’t bounce on my leg as we back-tracked to find the tunnel entrance.
I always preferred a longbow, and as I realized the confined area inside the tunnel, I understood Elizabeth’s insistence on the short ones. Besides, they are very fast to draw and release, even if the arrows don’t fly as far. My sword hung on my other side and I knew that by the end of the day, my new scabbard would be as tattered as my old one.
At the wooden door, we waited. There would be no candles to light our way, this time. Darkness was our friend; a candle would tell anyone at the far end exactly where we were and make us perfect targets.
I fought both to enter first. Bran insisted on going second, for which I appreciated. We crawled far slower than the last time and were quiet. The light fled until darkness was complete. I moved with one hand groping in front. Finally, my fingers felt the hidden door.
“We’re here,” I whispered. My gut told me to issue orders, at least tell them the door would be opened slowly, and to have arrows ready.
Instead, I felt Bran wiggle to my side, so when I opened the door, he would have an arrow ready. I placed my bow in front of me, next to an arrow. Then I slowly lifted the bottom of the door and light seemed to flood inside. One soldier sat on the sofa, arms crossed, his head bobbing as he napped on duty.
I felt Bran tense. I swung the door up. Bran’s arrow flew ten steps to the soldier who had only enough time to jerk his head up to see us before the arrow pierced his throat and pinned itself to the wall, along with the soldier.
We waited. Bran had another arrow ready, but we saw and heard nothing. Bran moved ahead, I scooted back, and after he got his legs under him, took my wrists and lowered himself silently. As I followed, it occurred to me that if any enemy walked into the room, I was helpless. Well, I was but Bran now stood to one side, an arrow ready to protect me.