Fool's Errand (55 page)

“Perhaps,” said Azriel. “But not for this.” “What do you mean ‘not for this'?” she spat. “He tricked us—”

“No,” said Azriel heavily. “The trick wasn't Miter's, wife. The trick was Balthazar's.”

“
Balthazar's?
”

Azriel shrugged helplessly. “He must have hoped that a fake map would throw the Regent off the scent.”

“Or perhaps he liked Gorgishmen no better than you do,” said Persephone, who could not help sounding accusatory. “Perhaps the map was nothing but a jest played at the expense of the Gorgish ambassador. A jest that has earned us the eternal enmity of Miter and his people—a jest that has seen Miter abandon us here, no doubt that he might have a better chance of saving himself!”

“Perhaps,” murmured Azriel, slipping his hand around her waist.

Violently shrugging him off that she might stand alone beneath the crushing weight of her disappointment, Persephone stared at the spot on the floor where the Pool of Genezing
should
have been.

She could not believe it.

Saving Finn was going to come down to bluffing and improvisation, after all.

FIFTY-FIVE

Nine white beans left in the jar

T
HEY LOST NO TIME
retracing their steps to the entrance of the mine.

Persephone's heart was in her throat the entire time, certain that if Miter got to the entrance before them, the furious Gorgishman would close and padlock the iron door, shutting them in to die among the dusty bones of those who'd died before them. Mercifully, this did not happen, though the pygmy fingerprints on the outside of the iron door told them that the Gorgish leader had
tried
to make it happen. Indeed, he'd tried so hard that his precious ruby ring had evidently slipped from his finger without his even noticing. Fiercely glad to have Finn's gift returned to her—however inadvertently—Persephone snatched the ring up out of the dirt, dusted it off and slipped it onto her own finger once more. Then she and Azriel headed for the mountain of dirt and debris which they'd climbed down to enter the mines. They encountered no guards or dogs along the way, but halfway up the hill they encountered the severed head of the doomed woman Persephone had locked eyes with just before entering the mine. It was planted on a dripping pike, and though glazed over with death, the woman's half-open eyes seemed to bore into Persephone, accusing her.

Persephone stumbled then and fell.

Azriel's strong hands were upon her before she hit the dirt.

“It's going to be all right,” he said as he gently lifted her to her feet.

Persephone said nothing, only pulled away from him and kept climbing.

They retraced the path they'd followed into the mines, just barely making it back to the shelter of the jungle before the sky began to lighten. Persephone was shaking with exhaustion and hunger by that point, but she was too agitated to even consider Azriel's suggestion that she try for a few hours' sleep. Tossing back the handful of the berries her worried husband had hastily foraged, they set out.

Thanks to Miter's tendency to snap twigs and pull off leaves while he ran, they were easily able to follow back to the Gorgish city the jungle trail they'd taken to get to the mines. Worried that if they did not reach Rachel by sunset she'd head to Parthania to face the Regent alone, Persephone ignored Azriel's anxious protests that she was pushing herself too hard and insisted upon running almost the entire way.

Even so, it was late in the day when they finally reached the Gorgish city. Skirting it, they hurried toward the field of emerald-green grass. Crossing through the field without so much as a passing thought to spike-bottomed Gorgish pit traps, they finally reached the red-walled canyon that led into—and out of—the Valley of Gorg.

In spite of feeling more exhausted than she could ever remember feeling in her life, Persephone picked up her pace. She was anxious to see that Rachel was safe and well and still there—and also to apologize to her for how she'd behaved during their last conversation. Although Rachel's uncanny shrewdness sometimes made her a most aggravating person to have around, Persephone knew that her friend always,
always
meant well. And she was so sweet and kind—sweeter and kinder than Persephone, if the truth be told.

After all
,thought Persephone,
it wasn't me who said she'd happily lay down her life to see the prophecy of the Gypsy Kingfulfilled. I wanted to run away and find a destiny that belonged to none but—

Her thoughts were cut short by the sight of a large, bloody lump writhing on the ground just beyond the far end of the canyon.

It took her brain one endless second to process what it was.

Rachel
.

“Oh, no,” gasped Persephone, breaking into a run. “
OH, NO
!”

Azriel made a grab for her but missed. He yelled something after her, but the only thing she could hear was
Rachel. Rachel. Rachel. Rachel
.

Something whizzed so close to her head that she felt the air move, but she was too panicked to stop and investigate. As she burst out of the far end of the canyon, it fleetingly occurred to Persephone that whizzing projectiles were not a good sign. Even as it did so, she was attacked from the side by something that sent her flying.

Just before she hit the ground, she caught a glimpse of homespun.

FIFTY-SIX

Nine white beans left in the jar

S
CRATCHING AND SNARLING
like a wildcat, Persephone reached for her dagger. Seeing the movement, her attacker moved to disarm her. As he did, Persephone drove the heel of her free hand upward as hard as she could. The blow landed on her attacker's chin with such force that his teeth snapped together and his head snapped back. Before he could recover from this most unpleasant surprise, Persephone pulled her hand back, balled it into a fist and punched him in the throat. Though he started to cough and gag, he was not sufficiently incapacitated for her to deliver another hit. Using his greater weight and strength to easily roll her onto her stomach, he quickly bound her wrists behind her back. When he was done, he bound her ankles and then rolled her back over and lifted her into a sitting position.

Squatting in front of her with his elbows leaning on his homespun-clad thighs, the man—who bore an unusually shaped wine-coloured birthmark on one cheek—anxiously inquired as to whether she was all right.

Though she was yet panting from exertion and panic, Persephone managed to find the strength to spit in his face.

Instead of angering the man, her response seemed to make him very unhappy. “I knew you'd not take kindly to what I'd been asked to do,” he sighed as he wiped her spittle off his cheek.

Jerking her gaze away from his face, Persephone looked toward Rachel. When she saw that her friend was no longer moving, she felt her gorge rise. “What have you done to Rachel?” she asked with mounting hysteria. “
What have you done to her?
”

“Nothing, nothing!” cried the man. Jumping to his feet, he ran over to where Rachel was lying. Pulling a rag from her mouth, he gently helped her to sit up.

Though her hands were also bound behind her back, Rachel smiled and croaked, “I'm quite well, Princess.”

Persephone was so relieved that she nearly burst into tears. “But … but I don't understand,” she said weakly. “Your shift … it's covered in blood.”

“It's not her blood,” explained the man hurriedly. He gestured to a dead hare dangling from a branch on the same tree to which all three of the horses they'd purchased in Syon were tethered. “I needed to draw you out of the canyon alone.”

At the word “alone,” it suddenly struck Persephone that in spite of his solemn vow to protect her with his life, Azriel was nowhere to be seen. Her heart seizing up at the memory of that whizzing projectile, she blurted, “Where is he? Where is—”

“Don't worry about him, either,” said the man hastily. “He should awaken soon.”

“You put him to sleep?” asked Persephone as her heart started beating again.

“In a manner of speaking,” said the man uncomfortably. “I didn't want to hurt him but I was afraid that if I had to take you both on at once that someone would get killed.”

“Yes—
you
,” growled Persephone.

“No, Highness. It would have been your husband who'd have gotten killed, for you are the reason I am here, and I would
never
hurt Rachel,” said the man, who paused before shyly adding, “You see, I … am her personal hero.”

“You're what?” said Persephone blankly.

Rachel scrutinized the man, a look of dawning recognition coming over her as she did so. “I remember you now,” she said slowly. “We bumped heads in the market in Syon.”

“
Yes
,”said the man, who seemed positively thrilled by the knowledge that Rachel remembered him. “I'd been watching the princess ever since you all left Parthania, but when she and her Gypsy husband sailed away and didn't come back, I started watching you instead.”

At these ominous words, a shiver ran down Persephone's spine. “Why?” she asked, before Rachel could say anything. “Why were you watching us? Why were you following us? Who sent you?”

“The king,” said the man.

“The
KING
?”exclaimed Persephone.

“Yes,” nodded the man. “My name is Zdeno—I am one of His Majesty's personal guards. The night before you left Parthania, the king dismissed all of his other attendants and called me into his chambers. Whispering as though he feared we might be overheard, he told me that he had a mission for me and that if I performed it as he believed I could that poets would someday write verses praising my heroism and minstrels would sing of how I'd single-handedly changed the course of Glyndorian history.”

“Very impressive,” murmured Rachel.

Zdeno beamed.

“
And?
”prompted Persephone impatiently.

“His Majesty said that you were undertaking a quest.”

“And he wanted you to follow me,” guessed Persephone.

“No,” said Zdeno, surprising her. “He wanted me to follow whoever followed you—”

“No one followed us,” said Persephone. “We lost them shortly after leaving Parthania.”

“No, you didn't,” said Zdeno. “General Murdock and his men tracked you all the way into the Great Forest.”

“What?”

“Don't worry, Your Highness,” Zdeno rushed to reassure her. “In addition to seeing the General and his men dead or as good as, I saw to it that none of the General's reports made it back to the Regent. That was the first part of my orders.”

“What was the second part?” asked Persephone, who already had a fair idea what was coming.

“To keep you from returning to Parthania, come what may,” he replied, cringing a little in anticipation of her reaction. “The king said … he said you'd not be best pleased but that it was vital for the good of the realm.”

Persephone heaved an exasperated sigh and let her head fall forward.

Oh, Finn
! she thought, affection for him swelling in her breast.
Azriel was right when he guessed that you'd want to keep me away until you were sure it was safe for me to return. I underestimated you
.

But you underestimated me, too
.

Slowly, she lifted her head and fixed her gaze upon the man in meanest homespun.

“The king was wrong, Zdeno,” she said softly.

“Highness?” he said cautiously, but in a voice that told Persephone he was already having doubts.

She nodded as though to confirm his unspoken misgivings. “The king fears that I may put myself in danger if I return to Parthania, and he may be right,” she acknowledged. “But if I do not return by sunset eight days hence, he will be
dead
.”

Zdeno looked horrified.