the same man, could they? How long ago had this Brecc ruled, and how old would that make Xenos? But, then again, we were talking about a magician.
"She
do
be as stupid as she looks," the guy with the bucket said.
"I be liking her," Grimbold argued. "She does na know nothing, but I na be going to hold that against her."
"So what do that be meanin'?" the other man asked.
"We shall be letting her live," Grimbold said.
That was a relief.
Grimbold said, "We shall be demanding the crown as ransom for her."
The other gave a dismissive snort. "What makes you be thinkin' they be payin' a ransom for her, useless thing that she be?"
I couldn't help but mentally agree. They were going to ask my family to trade something—presumably of value—for me? This opened up a whole new batch of possibilities for public humiliation.
Grimbold stroked his beard pensively as though his companion had presented a new thought. "We can always be killing her later," he said.
Which I guess showed he wasn't all
that
emotionally attached to me.
"Set a guard on her," Grimbold ordered, "and send a envoy to the castle to be demanding the returning of my crown in exchange for the life of their new king."
I couldn't even use my ring on Grimbold. If I said, "Here, take this ring," and he put it on, and then started doing everything I said, then surely this other guy would catch on that something was wrong.
Nor could I use it on my guard: Grimbold had given his orders. There were too many men in this camp who would question why those orders were being ignored if I got this guy to release me.
The barbarian guard got a length of chain and some shackles—not promising an easy escape at all—then he brought me to a tree in the midst of their campground, and he fastened me there, by my left ankle. All in all, they were being more considerate than I had reason to expect from enemy barbarians. The shackle wasn't tight, and the chain was long enough that I could sit, stand, He down, or walk around the tree—choosing shade or sunlight as I pleased. But I still felt like a leashed dog.
From the position of the sun, I guessed that it was midafternoon. The last meal my stomach remembered was a breakfast of hard bread and salted fish back in St. Jehan—a menu the real me had to keep from dwelling on or I would have gagged. I felt hungry, and these guys would have already had their midday meal and wouldn't be thinking about supper for another several hours.
A guard was posted to watch me. He was given the key to the shackles, which I found reason enough to try to strike up a friendship. It was hard to tell if he didn't speak English, or if he simply didn't want to talk.
There were some women in the camp, and one of them brought me a cup of water.
"Thank you," I said. "Any chance of any leftovers from lunch?"
She looked at me quizzically and said something that sounded like, "
Doe naado?
"
"Food?" I said. I pantomimed eating, but she shook her head. I thought she meant she didn't understand rather than that I couldn't have any, but there was no way to know for sure. My guard certainly didn't offer any commentary.
There were even a few kids. Some of them seemed curious, some seemed to be playing a game of dare—approaching, then running away. When I didn't chase after them, a few got bolder and took up a new game of throw-clumps-of-dirt-at-the-prisoner. My guard napped obliviously in the shade of his own tree.
I didn't even know if my royal family was planning to rescue me. Should I be patiently waiting for them to come swooping in, or was I supposed to be working on some plan of my own?
Of course, it would help if I had even the beginnings of a plan of my own to get me started in the right direction.
Knowing how difficult it is to judge the passing of time when you're bored, I think I waited about an hour and a half, maybe two. The sun
did
lower a bit in the sky.
This can't be right,
I told myself. If anyone was going to rescue me, it was probably
"She
do
be as stupid as she looks," the guy with the bucket said.
"I be liking her," Grimbold argued. "She does na know nothing, but I na be going to hold that against her."
"So what do that be meanin'?" the other man asked.
"We shall be letting her live," Grimbold said.
That was a relief.
Grimbold said, "We shall be demanding the crown as ransom for her."
The other gave a dismissive snort. "What makes you be thinkin' they be payin' a ransom for her, useless thing that she be?"
I couldn't help but mentally agree. They were going to ask my family to trade something—presumably of value—for me? This opened up a whole new batch of possibilities for public humiliation.
Grimbold stroked his beard pensively as though his companion had presented a new thought. "We can always be killing her later," he said.
Which I guess showed he wasn't all
that
emotionally attached to me.
"Set a guard on her," Grimbold ordered, "and send a envoy to the castle to be demanding the returning of my crown in exchange for the life of their new king."
I couldn't even use my ring on Grimbold. If I said, "Here, take this ring," and he put it on, and then started doing everything I said, then surely this other guy would catch on that something was wrong.
Nor could I use it on my guard: Grimbold had given his orders. There were too many men in this camp who would question why those orders were being ignored if I got this guy to release me.
The barbarian guard got a length of chain and some shackles—not promising an easy escape at all—then he brought me to a tree in the midst of their campground, and he fastened me there, by my left ankle. All in all, they were being more considerate than I had reason to expect from enemy barbarians. The shackle wasn't tight, and the chain was long enough that I could sit, stand, He down, or walk around the tree—choosing shade or sunlight as I pleased. But I still felt like a leashed dog.
From the position of the sun, I guessed that it was midafternoon. The last meal my stomach remembered was a breakfast of hard bread and salted fish back in St. Jehan—a menu the real me had to keep from dwelling on or I would have gagged. I felt hungry, and these guys would have already had their midday meal and wouldn't be thinking about supper for another several hours.
A guard was posted to watch me. He was given the key to the shackles, which I found reason enough to try to strike up a friendship. It was hard to tell if he didn't speak English, or if he simply didn't want to talk.
There were some women in the camp, and one of them brought me a cup of water.
"Thank you," I said. "Any chance of any leftovers from lunch?"
She looked at me quizzically and said something that sounded like, "
Doe naado?
"
"Food?" I said. I pantomimed eating, but she shook her head. I thought she meant she didn't understand rather than that I couldn't have any, but there was no way to know for sure. My guard certainly didn't offer any commentary.
There were even a few kids. Some of them seemed curious, some seemed to be playing a game of dare—approaching, then running away. When I didn't chase after them, a few got bolder and took up a new game of throw-clumps-of-dirt-at-the-prisoner. My guard napped obliviously in the shade of his own tree.
I didn't even know if my royal family was planning to rescue me. Should I be patiently waiting for them to come swooping in, or was I supposed to be working on some plan of my own?
Of course, it would help if I had even the beginnings of a plan of my own to get me started in the right direction.
Knowing how difficult it is to judge the passing of time when you're bored, I think I waited about an hour and a half, maybe two. The sun
did
lower a bit in the sky.
This can't be right,
I told myself. If anyone was going to rescue me, it was probably
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