Dragonfly

  Sitting back after having completed the morning ritual, Tashi dwelt upon the lessons she was learning. Her experience of faith had not been so pure or simple since her hillside prayers as a child.

  This must be good, she thought, this must be what the Goddess is teaching me. Remembering how she had fretted in the palace on Rama, burdened with the demands of her office, she could see herself far more clearly now that it had been taken away from her. She had tried so hard, too hard, to be what others expected her to be, that she had forgotten that the only one she had to please was the Goddess. And one thing Tashi now knew was that the Goddess did not care for the ritual

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  but what was inside the heart of the believer who performed it.

  "Thank you for the lesson, Mother," Tashi murmured, "but did you have to go to such extremes to teach me?"

  No answer--but it was not an empty, angry silence like before in Fergox's prison. Nature continued calmly on its business outside, the reeds rustling, the wind whispering, and children laughing in the distance.

  "I suppose that means that you had your reasons, Mother." Tashi concluded her prayer time by putting her palms together, then pushing them out and dropping her hands to her knees. She bowed low so that her forehead touched the rug. Opening her eyes, she found that she had not been so private as she thought. During her meditation, someone had placed a sprig of winter greenery on her pillow. Threaded through it was a thin gold chain with a tiny key on the end. Having seen this around the camp on flags and uniforms, Tashi guessed this was the ac Mollinder family symbol.

  So was it a gift, or part of her disguise--perhaps both? Tashi stood before her mirror and fastened it around her neck. The chain was long, the charm disappearing down the front of her dress, resting on her breastbone.

  Leaving her chamber in search of breakfast, Tashi found Merl waiting for her at the table. His eyes fell on the necklace and he gave a smile, making no comment.

  "Now, fair cousin," Meri said when she had finished eating, "wouid you like me to show you the delights of our camp? That should occupy, oh, half an hour of your time."

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  "Thank you. I would like that. But I would also like to make myself useful. Is there any task I can do?"

  Merl gave her his most brilliant smile. "I would like nothing better than to have you beside me as a helpmate. Indeed, I have much tedious work for the pen and you would free up a man for fighting if you would do this."

  "Then that is settled. I wil help you with your intelligence work."

  "And now, for your tour of our little dukedom."

  Merl proved to be an entertaining and informative guide. He showed her the armory and the forge where the smiths were hard at work, bare-chested in the freezing weather, hammering new blades and shoeing the resistance's horses. They stopped in the communal kitchens--tables under a pavilion and open-air stoves-- to taste the bread offered by an apple-cheeked cook. At the school for the camp children, Professor Norling stood at the blackboard in front of the oldest pupils. Their math lesson was most unconventional as he had them working out the amount of explosive required to take out the supports of a local bridge.

  "An interesting topic," Tashi remarked in a low voice.

  "You should see the practical," Merl commented dryly as he led her away.

  The last area he took her to was the stables. Outside, the fighters were honing their skills in armed and unarmed combat. Again Tashi was

  impressed to see women among the fighters. Her own army comprised half men

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  and half women, but she had thought the Easterners did not allow their females into battle. She expressed this view to Merl.

  He laughed. "That is true in normal times, but we are not a conventional army. Our women number among our best and most effective agents, getting into the houses of some of our key targets."

  "You use them as assassins?" Tashi watched enviously as one dark-haired girl not much older than she was floored a man twice her size.

  "Yes. They can also cause havoc in markets and barrack cookhouses, places where it is harder for a man to go unnoticed. And as messengers they are invaluable."

  Tashi spotted Ramil among the men practicing with swords. He glanced once in their direction but then ignored them, redoubling his attack on the unfortunate man who had volunteered to be his partner.

  "Ramil knows how to wield his blade," remarked Merl, watching him critically.

  "Yes, he bested the Inkar in the practice courts. She thought him a match for Fergox," said Tashi, admiring the Prince's elegant pattern of strikes.

  "He should perhaps ease up a little though," said Nerul, striding up behind them. "I do not want one of my best men in the infirmary." He bowed to Tashi. "Good morning, cousin."

  "Good morning, Your Grace."

  "I have a messenger leaving for the coast today if you would like to send word to your people. Merl here will show you our codes."

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  "Thank you."

  Merl held out his arm. "Let us return to our desk, cousin, and I will induct you into the delights of the codebook."

  The following days, Tashi spent much of her time with Merl, reading correspondence, summarizing reports for Nerul, and generally managing the information coming into the resistance headquarters from all over Brigard and beyond. Merl made sure she saw all communications concerning the search for her and Ramil. Fergox had despatched hunters over the

  surrounding areas, concentrating on the paths to the mountains and to the coast. He was reported to be increasingly frustrated by the lack of information or sign of his fugitives. The soldiers who had been on duty and survived the escape attempt were the least fortunate for they had been executed the following day and their bodies now hung on the battlements as a warning to others. Spies said that the Inkar Yellowtooth had killed a man on the practice courts in her fury at the loss of her favorite horse.

  Tashi said a prayer for the soul of all those who died, even though they were her enemies. She hoped the Inkar's victim had not been her trainer who, though stern, had always been fair to her under the rules of his faith.

  Sifting through the papers, Tashi began to enjoy her work, finding she had an aptitude for translating codes

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  back into Common. Concentrating hard on a defined task like this took her mind off her precarious position and made her feel useful--a pleasant change from the last few months. She also expanded her knowledge of parts of the Empire to the south of Brigard: the warmer climes of the forested Kandar, the Inkar's domain given to her by her brother after his first conquest; the slave plantations of the lands around the Inland Sea and the heart of the Empire, the capital Tigral. She even read despatches from those who had travelled all the way to the edges of the Southern Desert, an ungovernable land inhabited by a nomadic people cal ed the Horse Fol owers, the tribe from which Ramil's mother had come. They were no friends to Fergox, but kept themselves hidden in their desert, beyond the march of any army foolish enough to attempt to cross that waterless expanse. As yet, they stood apart from the resistance, wishing it well but considering it none of their business.

  The only shadow over her days in Nerul's tent was the continuing campaign by Merl to win her favor. He was witty, kind, complimentary and Tashi was not impervious to the charm of being gently wooed by a handsome man. Yet she found it all very confusing, not certain of her own part in this game. In the Islands, his behavior would have been an affront; here it seemed that gifts and sweet-talking were an accepted part of life between men and women, not even necessarily meaning courtship. He presented her with a ribbon for her hair and tied it on himself; he caressed her fingers

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  on handing her papers, leant over her as she worked so that his breath tickled her neck. He'd even once kissed her playfully to congratulate her on her first mistake-free translation. She had been stunned at the familiarity, wondering if she should protest, but he had moved on quickly to another subject as if it had a
ll meant nothing. It was most perplexing.

  After seven days of this treatment, she decided to go to her friends for advice. As Easterners, Ramil and Gordoc should be able to tell her how to respond to these approaches. She sought them out in Melletin's tent after dark one evening, taking care not to be seen by anyone as she crossed the camp. Her luck was in: they were alone, tending their weapons, checking straps and sharpening blades.

  "May I come in?" she asked shyly, leaning on a walking stick.

  Gordoc jumped up. "Princess, of course you may join Old Gordoc and Ram.

  We've been wondering what had become of you." He guided her to the cushions. "We thought you'd quite forgotten us."

  She shook her head. "Of course I hadn't but it would look strange for a cousin of Nerul to spend too much time with mercenaries. I have my family's reputation to think of."

  "How's the leg?" Ramil asked tersely, not looking at her.

  Tashi thought his manner cold but put it down to their being affronted by her failure to call on them earlier. "Much better, thank you. The stitches have 204

  been taken out. I think I'm fit again, though Professor Norling still wants to cosset me a while longer."

  "So what have you been doing closeted with Merl all week?" Ramil enquired, polishing his blade vigorously.

  She raised an eyebrow. "How did you know about that?"

  "The camp gossip. They're talking of how he's hardly left your side."

  She rubbed her ankles, pulling her knees to her chest. "Actually, that is what I wanted to talk to you about."

  "Oh, yes?" Ramil's tone was stil hostile.

  Tashi turned to Gordoc's more friendly face. "I'm a stranger to your ways and I wondered if you could tell me about . . . well, you know . . . how men and women treat each other here."

  Ramil dropped his sword with a clatter. He grabbed it up again swiftly.

  "What do you want to know, my pretty?" Gordoc asked, his expression one of puzzlement. "Do you want me to scare Merl off--thump him for you? Just tell him your Uncle Gordoc will have words with him if he offends you."

  "No, no, I don't mean that." Tashi smiled. "He's not insulted me--at least, not by Eastern standards, I suppose." She wrinkled her nose.

  "What's he done?" growled Ramil.

  "Well, first there's the gifts--flowers and jewelry, mainly. What should I say when he gives me things?"

  "Thank you' usually does the trick," said Gordoc

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  bluntly. "That's what the girls I know do. They put them away for a rainy day."

  "So it doesn't mean anything if I accept them?"

  "It means you are encouraging his attentions. Do you want to encourage him?" Ramil asked, mustering all his self-control. She was free to be romanced by whoever she liked, he reminded himself, though he really wanted to tell her to throw the gifts back at the red-haired, fox-faced flirt.

  Tashi shrugged. Ramil now noticed she had a new chain around her neck--a costly one by the looks of it.

  "I don't know." She sighed. "I want to be nice to him. I'm grateful for all that he's done for me."

  "And what else has he done?" Ramil couldn't keep the suspicion from his voice, but Tashi did not seem to notice.

  "Well, he pays me extravagant compliments all the time--"

  "That usually means nothing," Ramil advised. "Not that they aren't deserved," he added hastily.

  "Don't you start!" Tashi laughed. "But the thing that worries me most are his kisses."

  "Kisses!" Ramil jumped up and strode to the other side of the room.

  Tashi frowned. "Is that very shocking? I thought it might be but I wasn't sure."

  "What kind of kisses?" Ramil sounded as if someone was strangling him.

  "Oh, just light ones on my hands and neck a couple of times, once on my lips."

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  "And did you kiss him back?"

  "Ram! Of course I didn't! What do you take me for? I just wasn't sure what was allowed and what wasn't. He always does it in a very respectful way."

  "It's never respectful to kiss a girl on the lips, Tashi," Ramil warned her.

  "He's taking advantage of your ignorance."

  Tashi bit her lip. "Oh."

  "But if you like him, my pretty, it is not wrong to kiss," Gordoc said fairly, stretching out on the cushions with a reminiscent smile.

  "It would be very wrong back at home. We never touch our admirers and only accept poems and paper flowers," Tashi told him.

  "Kissing is nice. It's fun," Gordoc continued. "But you must not let him do any more unless you want to bed him."

  "Gordoc!" Tashi was now blushing bright red, as was Ramil. "I didn't come here for that kind of advice."

  Gordoc looked confused. He propped himself up on his elbow. "Where I come from, Tashi, men and women bed each other first, then wed when they have children. No one wants a barren wife. Merl may wish to find this out."

  Tashi got up. "I'm not. . . that wasn't what I meant." She got up, fastening her cloak with clumsy fingers. "Forget I asked."

  She limped out quickly. Gordoc raised an eyebrow at Ramil who was still standing on the other side of the tent.

  "Did I say something wrong?" he asked.

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  Chapter 12

  Lady Egret, a Brigardian noble in exile, begged an interview with King Lagan three weeks after Midwinter.

  "Must I see her?" he asked Lord Taris with a groan, clearing a space on his desk for a new file of army reports.

  "If it was any other Brigardian I would say no," replied the Prime Minister,

  "but Lady Egret is not one of the troublesome ones and has more sense in her little finger than most of them do in the whole of their bodies."

  "I could do with some sense myself," mused the King. "We're facing an invincible army and an impossible fight and stil I have absolutely no intention of surrendering. All right, send her in."

  King Lagan rose to greet the tiny elderly noble who entered supporting herself on an ebony walking stick.

  "Lady Egret, it is a pleasure to see you," he said in a kindly tone, directing her to a chair. "How can I help you?"

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  The old lady settled her black shawls comfortably and handed her stick to Lord Taris.

  "I have a confession to make, Your Majesty," she said briskly.

  "Oh?" King Lagan smiled. He could not imagine this grandmotherly person having anything very shocking to say.

  "Yes, and you will not be pleased with me. It is time I outed myself as a spy."

  "A spy?" exclaimed Lord Taris. "For who?"

  "For whom, dear, whom," she corrected him. "For the resistance movement in Brigard, of course."

  King Lagan relaxed. The resistance movement was no threat to Gerfal and he doubted very much she had been in a position to pass them any vital information.

  "I'm afraid I've kept them abreast of all council deliberations thanks to my sources in the palace," she continued, oblivious to the reactions her words were causing in her two listeners. "That, of course, will cease from this moment. I hope from now on our cooperation will be frank and aboveboard, particularly when I give you this." She handed over a letter. "I received it this morning and only just decoded it."

  Lagan took the paper in trembling fingers. "It's from Ramil," he said hoarsely, reading it through quickly. "He's escaped--as has the Princess--by Thorsin, I knew he had it in him!" He scanned it all the way to the bottom, absorbing the request for assistance for Duke Nerul. Overcome with joy and relief, he knelt,

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  seized the old lady's hand and kissed it fervently. "Lady Egret, you are a jewel."

  She smiled fondly at him and tapped his head with her finger. "Tush, tush, Your Majesty, you'll turn this poor woman's head if you go on in that fashion.

  Your boy's well, that's the main thing. He and the lass have given Fergox something to cry about, stealing his horse and everything." She chuckled.

  "The girl's sent a message to her people too. I will deliv
er it immediately."

  She cocked a quizzical eyebrow. "That's if you are not going to arrest me as a spy?"

  "Arrest you, my dear lady? I want to marry you for bringing me that news!"

  "Sorry, Your Majesty, but Lord Egret wouldn't be pleased if you did that."

  Smiling, she rose and walked out, her stick clicking on the marble tiles.

  Lord Taris had now read the letter through.

  "I take it, Your Majesty, we intend to help the resistance?" he asked.

  "Absolutely, we are fighting the same war after all." Lagan smiled and stretched his arms, feeling one of his heaviest burdens had fallen from his shoulders. He no longer had to tiptoe around Fergox in fear of reprisals on his son. They now had a straight fight before them. Lagan rubbed his hands together, beginning to see all sorts of possibilities with Nerul's men behind enemy lines. "Find out what we can do, will you? Ramil mentions arms and support from the sea."

  "We could do with Blue Crescent aid for this, sir,"

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  Taris said. "I wonder what Princess Taoshira has written in her communication."

  "We should've asked the old girl. Track her down and see if she is at liberty to tell us, will you? At the very least, I hope it means I will get my Briony back again. I know, I'll hold a party for her--and take her on a pony ride--I think that will be quite in order, if I can be spared from my official duties for the afternoon."

  "You're the King," Taris reminded him with a smile.

  "But you're my conscience, Taris, you know that."

  "Then your conscience says we should keep his highness's current location secret, but an announcement of his escape is most desirable. Therefore, a party is quite in order--if not essential--for the morale of the nation."

  "Excellent. I really should promote you, old friend. Only trouble is, there's nowhere to go but down from your office."

  "I am well aware of that, Your Majesty."