Sebastian Darke: Prince of Fools (11 page)

'Oh, it won't come to that,' Sebastian assured him. 'After all, we rescued her, didn't we?'

But Max made no reply and they plodded on in stony silence.

The sun was setting once again, and above the treetops to the west, the sky was piled with great columns of blood-red cloud. There was something else too: the tip of a spire rising sheer into the air. To be visible at such a distance it must surely have been the highest building in all creation.

They were tantalizingly close and yet, Cornelius decided, not close enough. He shouted that they should make camp for one more night and finish their journey the following morning.

The copses of trees had grown steadily more widespread as they'd journeyed through the day, until now they were following a path that led through what was little short of woodland. They came to a large clearing and saw what had to be the most welcome sight of all. A stream was meandering through it, the first water they'd seen since they'd started across the plains. Sebastian brought the caravan to a halt and Cornelius pulled up alongside him, an accusatory expression on his baby face.

'What did you say to her?' he hissed angrily, but Sebastian ignored him. He jumped down from the caravan and unhitched Max, who made a beeline for the stream and began to drink deeply.

'Now who says you can't trust Berundians?' asked Sebastian, slapping him playfully on the rump.

Max lifted his head briefly, water dripping from his mouth. 'Yes, but we didn't find it till we were nearly in Keladon,' he retorted. 'And stop trying to divert attention from the fact that you have made a blunder.'

'Thanks for the sympathy,' muttered Sebastian.

Cornelius appeared from around the back of the carriage. He was slotting together a series of jointed metal pieces, which fitted into a set of leather compartments in his belt. As Sebastian watched, he assembled a beautiful miniature crossbow.

'Had this made for me by a master craftsman in Golmira,' he said. 'No good for hunting javralats but great for food on the wing.' He pointed up at the restless black shapes moving in the trees.

'Supper,' he announced. 'You get a fire going, I'll pick off a couple of those beauties. They look like they should make good eating. We might try tasting some of that fruit too. It would make a welcome change from meat.' He looked up at Sebastian again. 'The princess seemed very upset,' he whispered. 'I tried calling in to her several times along the way but she didn't even deign to answer me.'

'Look. Forget about it,' snapped Sebastian. 'I really don't want to talk about this.'

'Suit yourself.' Cornelius wandered off into the trees, looking up at the branches above him, which were silhouetted by the red light of dusk. Sebastian, meanwhile, inspected the wound in Max's flank, which looked sore but not infected.

'No need for mulch tonight,' he said, with forced jollity. 'The grass here looks pretty tasty.'

Max sighed. 'The condemned beast ate a hearty meal,' he muttered and moved away from the stream to browse on the lush grass beside it.

'Oh come on,' said Sebastian. 'It might not be as bad as all that.' He looked thoughtfully towards Princess Kerin's carriage, where a dull wash of yellow light glowed from under the curtained doorway.

Up in the trees there was a sudden swish of air and a black shape plummeted from the topmost branches to hit the ground with a thud.

'Looks like your supper's sorted out,' observed Max.

Sebastian hurried to the wagon to fetch some kindling. He was hungry again and the big birds would take some time cooking.

A short while later Sebastian and Cornelius were sitting at the campfire, watching the carcasses of two plump birds turning on the spit and dripping fat into the flames. They had tried a couple of pieces of the crimson fruit as an appetizer but it tasted rather sour and they had quickly abandoned the idea of a healthy alternative to meat. There was still no sign of Princess Kerin, and Cornelius was beginning to worry about her. He kept throwing nervous glances towards her carriage, then looking accusingly at Sebastian.

'She must be starving in there,' he said. 'One of us should at least try and persuade her to come out for some supper.'

'Be my guest,' said Sebastian quickly. 'I've already felt the sharp edge of her tongue, thank you very much.'

'Yes, but look, it's your fault she's in there.'

'Oh? How do you figure that out?'

'Because you questioned her ability to be Queen.'

Sebastian glared at him. I . . . How did you . . . ?' He turned to look at Max, who was suddenly very occupied with munching grass. 'Oh, thanks very much . . . big mouth!'

Max lifted his head and gave Sebastian an innocent look. 'Oh dear, did I say something out of place?'

'Turncoat!' Sebastian stared gloomily into the fire. I didn't mean it to go as far as it did,' he said. I think she over-reacted.'

Cornelius seemed to consider for a moment. 'Whatever your reasons for saying it, it's up to you to try and make amends. We only have tonight. If we arrive in Keladon with her in that kind of mood, the chances are we'll all be in big trouble. Now, I suggest that you go over to her carriage and apologize to her.'

Sebastian scowled. 'Do I have to?' he said. 'It'll mean tremendous loss of face.'

'Perhaps. Rather preferable to tremendous loss of head though, wouldn't you agree?'

Sebastian sighed. 'Oh, very well,' he said. He got reluctantly to his feet. 'She'll probably just tell me to clear off.'

'Well, if she does, at least we can't say you didn't give it a try,' reasoned Cornelius. 'Now, just make sure you keep your temper . . .'

'And don't say anything else you might regret,' added Max, talking through a mouthful of grass.

'Yes, yes!' Sebastian stalked away across the campsite, leav?ing the warmth of the fire behind him. It was very quiet and the moon was full and bright. The flocks of black birds were all asleep up in the branches of the trees, which cast long angular shadows across the clearing. Somewhere not so far off something howled, a long, low, mournful tone.

Sebastian approached the steps of the carriage where, not so long ago, Cornelius had made a valiant stand against a rabble of armed Brigands. He stood for a moment, listening, but no sound came from within. He climbed the steps and then politely rapped his knuckles against the door frame.

'Your highness?' he ventured. 'We were wondering if you would honour us with your company for supper.'

There was a long silence. Then her voice came softly from within.

'Please go away,' she said.

He was about to follow the instruction, but something within him rebelled. 'No,' he said. T will not. Princess, you may punish me for disobeying you, but I refuse to go until we have discussed this like two adults.'

Silence.

'Listen. I . . . want to apologize to you. I overstepped the mark. I know that. But . . . I still stand by what I said. And anyway, what's worse? Being left in ignorance of your own faults, or being told, so that you can make changes?'

More silence. But no, not quite. Sebastian moved his head closer to the curtains because he thought he had picked up a muffled sound from within. He listened very carefully for a moment. Yes, he had been right. It was the sound of crying.

'Princess?' Emboldened by the sound, he climbed the last step and pushed through the curtain, instinctively lifting one hand to guard his head, just in case she was in a vengeful mood. But no, she was not waiting for him with a chamber pot this time. In the subtle glow of an oil lamp, he saw that she was sitting cross-legged on her silken bed, her head bowed, her shoulders moving rhythmically up and down. She looked up at him and he saw that her lovely face was wet with tears.

'You're right,' she gasped. 'I'm a terrible person. I'm selfish, shallow and self-opinionated. And I'll never be a good queen, never!'

Sebastian stood there staring at her in astonishment, realizing that this was his doing. He felt terrible.

'Your highness,' he whispered. 'No. You mustn't say such things.' He hurried over to the bed and, without thinking, sat down beside her and threw an arm round her slender shoulders. She didn't push him away. Instead, she turned towards him and buried her face against his chest, until he could feel her hot tears seeping through the fabric of his singlet. Suddenly it was all coming out of her in a rush. She sounded not like a princess, but a little girl, lost and afraid.

'You have to understand, I've been spoiled all my life. Everything I wanted was there for me on a plate, I only had to snap my fingers! So little wonder that I grew up believing that I was something special. And then I lost my parents when I was still so young and I had to make myself hard and not show my feelings. The people at court were watching me, waiting for me to break down, but I would not give them that satisfaction. I had to hide my true self behind the image I show to the world . . .'

'Hush,' whispered Sebastian, lifting a hand to stroke her hair. 'It's all right, really.' But she didn't seem to hear him.

'I . . . I know I say things sometimes . . . stupid selfish things . . . but it's like there's a little voice inside me, buzzing inside my head, telling me that I can do what I want, I can say what I want, because one day soon I will be
Queen!
And I
want
to be Queen, but at the same time I don't, because that's such a terrible responsibility, and what happens if I make some stupid mistake and I'm too proud to say I was wrong?' Now her voice dissolved into a flurry of frantic sobs and it was no longer possible to understand what she was saying; so Sebastian just held her until her tears subsided and she was able to control her breathing enough to speak.

'You were right,' she whispered. 'I have much to learn.'

'Princess,' he said, 'you have no idea how much I wish I had held my tongue. I didn't mean to upset you. That was the last thing I wanted.'

She pulled back from him a little and gazed up at him, her lovely eyes catching the light of the oil lamp. He had a sudden irrational desire to kiss her, but managed to suppress it. That was a complication he really couldn't afford.

'You are worried about your future employment,' she said. 'You needn't be. I won't hold your words against you.'

'It's not that,' he assured her. 'That doesn't matter. Well, it
does
matter . . . but not as much as other things.' He looked at her for a moment. 'Princess Kerin, may I speak frankly?'

She smiled, dashing the tears from her eyes with the sleeve of her sumptuous gown. I fear you already have,' she said.

'Well, I intend to say more,' he said fearlessly. He took a deep breath. 'When I first met you, I confess that I didn't like you.'

'Oh.' She looked crestfallen. 'I hope this gets better,' she said.