The World Above (12 page)

“You have bread?” the boy asked, his eyes wide. “Real bread, not the flat stuff, baked on a stone?”

Shannon gave an unexpected chuckle. “Real bread,” she affirmed. She got up and opened the saddlebag closest to her. “Baked in a brick oven just this morning. But my friend is right. We have just two loaves, and that is not enough for everyone. We are strangers and do not know the way you decide things among you.”

She removed a loaf from the saddlebag and held it up. “Will someone help us?” she asked in a voice meant to be heard throughout the camp.

There was a moment’s silence. I could almost feel the people around us weighing the situation, making up their minds.

“Mad Tom and his wife have a child who is ill,” a woman’s voice finally called back.

“Mad Tom?” I echoed.

The boy at our fire nodded. “On account of the way he never loses his temper,” he explained, as if I should have been able to figure that out for myself.

I smiled. “Of course.”

From out of the shadows, a woman materialized beside the boy.

“They’ve had a hard time getting the child to eat,” she explained, and I recognized her voice. She was the one who had spoken on behalf of Mad Tom’s family. “But I have some broth. If they had some bread, they could dip that in it. It’s nourishing. I bet the boy would eat that right down.”

“They must have some bread then,” Shannon said with a nod. “Who else would you suggest? May I please borrow a knife? Someone seems to have appropriated mine.”

“I’ve a knife you can borrow,” a voice offered. A man with ginger whiskers stepped into the circle of firelight. He took a knife from a sheath at his belt and extended it, hilt first, toward Shannon. She accepted it and began to carve the first loaf. Before long, our campfire was host to a serious yet friendly crowd.

The discussion of how to divide the bread was sometimes heated, but no one took offense if his or her suggestion was overruled. Shannon didn’t touch the knife to the bread until each decision had been agreed on by all involved. Those whose suggestions had been approved carried the pieces to the recipients. There was not a doubt in my mind that each piece would make it safely to those who had been chosen to receive the gift. Like the people of my father’s former land, these folks had learned the benefits of working together.

Finally two slices of bread remained, the heels from either end of the second loaf.

“If you all agree, I would like one piece to go to this man, to thank him for the loan of his knife,” Shannon proposed.

There was a murmur of assent. The man’s face turned as red as his hair. Shannon gave him the bread and thanked him.

“What do you say to giving this lad the other piece?” I inquired. “He returned the saddlebags to us. Without him, there would have been no bread to share.”

The boy grinned so that I feared his jaw might crack. But to my surprise, instead of reaching for the bread, he put his hands behind his back, shaking his head in denial.

“No, mistress,” he said. “By your leave, that isn’t right. I only did what Robin asked, and if I take that piece, then you and your friend have none.”

I glanced at Shannon. She gave a quick nod.

“We would like you to have it,” I told the boy. “In thanks for a job well done.”

“You go ahead and take it, Trip,” a woman urged.

“That’s right, Trip,” others echoed. “Go on.”

“Trip,” I said. “That’s what you’re called?”

The boy’s grin turned sheepish. “On account of the way I’m always falling down.”

I laughed before I could help myself. “In that case, we have something in common. I met your Robin by falling off a horse.”

“No!” Trip exclaimed in disbelief.

“As a matter of fact, she did,” a now familiar voice replied. Robin de Trabant stepped into the firelight with Steel at his side. “But to tell you the truth, it wasn’t her fault. I took her by surprise.”

“Not you, Robin,” the boy named Trip teased, then blushed bright red.

Robin reached out and ruffled the lad’s hair, but his eyes stayed on mine. Their color was still the same, of course, but the expression in them was different. They looked puzzled, as if the scene that he’d just witnessed did not match the one he’d expected to see.

“It’s true. I took unfair advantage, I admit. The lady is offering you a gift, young Trip. If I were in your shoes, I’d think twice about saying no.”

“Do you really mean for me to have it?” he asked.

“I really do,” I said. I took it from Shannon and held it out to the boy.

“Oh, thank you,” Trip breathed. “I haven’t had real bread in ever so long.”

Carefully he cradled the bread between both hands, as if it were gold. Then he took two steps back, spun on his heel, and was gone. As if his departure had been a signal, the others began to fade away. Soon only Robin, Steel, Shannon, and I stood in the circle cast by the light of our campfire. The bandit leader and the older man stood on one side. Shannon and I stood on the other.

Now we’ll come to things
, I thought.

“That was thoughtfully done,” Robin said. He took a stick and began to poke at the fire, gazing into the flames. “Still, you might have kept something for yourselves.”

“You suggested we share. We took your suggestion,” Shannon answered, matching his casual tone. She cocked her head to one side, like a bird studying a worm. “Though somehow I have the feeling that if we had kept something back, you’d still be dissatisfied. And it was Gen’s idea, if you’ll recall.”

“So it was,” Robin acknowledged. With the appearance of perfect unconcern, he stabbed at the coals. “If you were seeking to create some advantage, I’m afraid you’ll have to work a little harder than that. These people may not have much, but they are not bribed as easily as that.”

The warmth I’d felt at Robin’s banter with the boy vanished as hot fury took its place. I took a step closer to him, heedless of the way my skirts came perilously close to the fire.

“You,” I said, “are petty, suspicious, and insufferable. I’m surprised these people follow you at all. I guess there must be more to you than meets the eye. Try opening yours.”

Robin’s head snapped up. “My eyes work just fine, thank you,” he said. “It’s interpreting what they see that is the challenge. Appearances can be deceptive, after all. The eyes can be fooled by what the heart desires.”

“But first,” I said, “you must have one.”

“Oh, I have a heart,” Robin said. “And it’s more caring than you know. It would spare an old friend pain, for example. If it could.”

“It can’t,” Steel put in before I could respond. Even through my annoyance, I could hear his tension. “Just let me ask. Let me hear the truth. That’s all I want.”

“But will she speak the truth?” Robin inquired.

“How dare you?” I said as the heat of my fury abruptly metamorphosed into solid ice. “You don’t know me at all. How dare you doubt me? Of course I’ll speak the truth.”

“Ask your question, Steel,” Robin said softly. Even through the cold of my anger, I shivered at the sound of his voice.

“Who are you?” Steel asked, just as he had before. “Your full name, please. That’s all I ask.”

Now that the moment to declare myself had come, I felt absolutely calm. “My name is Gentian des Jardins,” I said in a steady voice. “Gen, for short.”

Jack was right
, I thought.
Sooner or later, you have to risk yourself
.

“My mother is Celine Marchand,” I went on. “My father was Duke Roland des Jardins, murdered and deposed these sixteen years ago. There,” I said to the young man I had every reason to believe was Guy de Trabant’s son. “Is that truth enough for you?”

Robin did not respond. Instead there was a silence so complete I swear that even the voice of the wind stopped talking. Slowly Steel sank to his knees, head bowed.

“I knew it,” he whispered in a tortured voice. “I knew it must be so. You look so much like your mother there could be no other explanation.”

He lifted his face, and I could see tears running down his cheeks. “But how is this possible? No trace of Duchess Celine was ever found.”

“We have been in hiding,” I answered. “Though my mother would have used the word ‘exile.’”

“Where?” Robin’s voice was like the flick of a whip. “Where can you have been so well hidden that no one in all this land knew your whereabouts?”

“You have answered the question yourself,” I said, and watched as his eyes grew wide.

“Merciful heavens,” he said. “The World Below.”

“I have answered your questions truthfully,” I said. “I have given you my name, now give me yours.”

“My name is Robert de Trabant,” Robin said. “Sixteen years ago my father brought about the death of yours, though he did not strike the blow himself.”

A hot white light exploded inside my head. “You can’t know that!” I cried out, all sense of caution forgotten. “You weren’t there. How can you say that when you can’t possibly know?”

“Because he knows I can,” Steel replied. He got to his feet slowly, as if his body pained him. “Earlier you asked if I was called Steel because of my quickness with a blade. The truth is that it’s just the opposite. Sixteen years ago I wasn’t quick or clever enough with my sword. Duke Roland died because of it.”

“For mercy’s sake,” Robin said, and for the first time I heard true passion in his voice. “How many times must we go over the same thing? You were barely a man. You can’t keep blaming yourself for—”

Without warning, he stopped. In the sudden stillness, I heard an owl hoot four times, cease, then hoot four times more.

“The scouts you sent out two days ago have returned,” Steel said. “That is Slowpoke’s call.”

“Slowpoke?”
I said before I could stop myself. “Wait, don’t tell me.” Robin’s people’s nicknames came in two varieties: those that were accurate descriptions of a trait, such as Trip, or those that were opposites, such as Mad Tom. But surely calling a scout Slowpoke could mean only one thing.

“It’s because he’s the fastest runner.”

Robin flashed a smile. Like the pain that had preceded it, this show of emotion was genuine and unguarded. I felt my own lips curving in answer even as my heart performed a strange and sudden lurch inside my chest.

Oh, wait
, I thought.
Oh no
.

“You catch on,” Robin said. He turned to Steel. “Bring him,” he said simply. Steel spun and was gone.

“Are you expecting trouble?” Shannon asked.

“Always,” Robin answered. “Mostly from my father’s soldiers.”

“Your father hunts you like a common outlaw?” I exclaimed.

“Why wouldn’t he?” Robin asked bitterly. “It’s what I’ve become. Here they are.”

Steel reappeared, accompanied by a man somewhere between his age and Robin’s. He was breathing hard.

“How far are they?” Robin asked at once.

Slowpoke sucked in a deep breath before he spoke.

“At the Boundary Oak.”

Steel swore an oath.

“What?” I asked. “What is the Boundary Oak?”

“The marker for the boundary between what used to be your father’s lands and mine,” Robin replied. He placed a hand on Slowpoke’s shoulder, urging him to sit. Gratefully the scout sank down beside the fire. The rest of us remained on our feet. Shannon produced one of our waterskins and pressed it into the scout’s hands.

“Please, drink this,” she urged.

“Thank you,” Slowpoke said quietly. He drank deeply as Robin continued.

“I’ve heard it said that the tree was planted by the founders of the houses of des Jardins and de Trabant as a token of eternal goodwill and trust. Determined as he is to hunt me down, my father has never sent soldiers beyond the Boundary Oak. Something must have happened. I wonder what.”

“The duke’s men were definitely fired up about something,” Slowpoke said. He handed the waterskin back to Shannon with a smile. “But I couldn’t get close enough to find out why. I’m sorry, Robin. Perhaps I should have tried harder.”

“You brought word of their presence swiftly,” Robin reassured him. “That is more than enough. Must we break camp tonight, do you think?”

Slowpoke shook his head.

“The soldiers are excited and full of themselves. And they make so much noise that even Trip could hear them coming and still have time to hide. I think there is no need tonight.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Robin said. “Thank you for your counsel. We’ll break camp at first light. Will you help Steel pass the word?”

Slowpoke got to his feet. “I will, Robin.”

“And be sure to get yourself some food,” Robin said. He clapped the other man on the shoulder. “Good work. I’ll not forget it.”

As quickly as they had appeared, Steel and the scout vanished into the night, leaving Shannon and me alone with Robin.

“I know it may not be your first choice,” he said. “But I think it will be safest for you to remain with us. You don’t want to encounter a group of my father’s soldiers on your own.”

He hesitated then, the first time I’d seen him do so. “I would like to ask you something, if I may.”

He is treating us as equals
, I thought. I nodded my assent. As if I’d issued an invitation, Robin crouched down beside the fire. Only after Shannon and I were seated ourselves did I realize I’d just invited Robin to sit at his own campfire.