The Hostage Prince by Jane Yolen Page A

almost with pity, which was much worse than the smile. And infinitely worse than the glare.
    She opened her mouth to speak.
    â€œI know,” he interrupted, “you have informed me thusly.” He pointed down the hall. “Back.”
    The midwives and their assistant looked at them strangely as they strode past a second time, but none dared to say anything to the prince, escaping hostage or no.
    I’m sure they will be
more
than happy to tell the next noble who stops by all about the two of us,
Aspen thought. An underling’s freedom had been bought for far less. He realized, having both a knife and a sword, he could easily silence them all, but he would not buy his freedom that dearly. Not slaying three old women and two girls. That might be an Unseelie thing to do, but—he had no doubt of it now—he was still Seelie at the core.
    During the three dozen paces back to the cell that held the dead ogre and the stairs, Aspen thought about whether or not he should pass it by and try to go out the easier way, past the guard station.
    But there might be too many guards at the station and Puck knows how many soldiers at the top of the stairs,
he thought. They were just going to have to risk the two boggarts that had been stalking him down the halls. Maybe he could bluff his way by. Or maybe he and the girl could dispatch them with sword, dagger, and some noble magic.
She was mighty quick with her knife.
    Still, he was not hopeful. The two at the top of the secret stairs had been hunters, assassins. They would be expecting trouble. The ogre, for all his bulk, had been slow and unsuspecting.
And as everybody knows, they are not,
he reminded himself,
a subtle race.
    And further
, he admitted to himself dismally,
I have not had
really
proper sword training since I was seven.
Certainly not enough to best trained soldiers in a small setting. He had spells, of course, but the dungeon was surely warded against all major spellcraft, and though the girl was gifted with that dagger, there were two creatures—not just one—waiting above.
    But his worries about the two creatures were suddenly swept aside, swamping all that he knew, much like a mighty bore in a river overturning even the most balanced boat, for when they reached the ogre’s interrogation cell, just outside the door, Aspen all but tripped over two bodies stretched out in the hall. Even in the small light thrown by the cell’s candle, he could see that their throats had been savagely cut and they were still bleeding into the rough dungeon floor. It had been so quietly and efficiently done, he had heard nothing.
    Grabbing the candle, he knelt down, and held the light close to the boggarts’ faces, noted they were hairy, pointy-nosed, and very dead.
    â€œBoggarts!” came a voice at his ear. “What are they doing down here? They surely weren’t there when we came out.” It was the girl, Snail.
    He did not say it aloud, but he was certain they were the two assassins who had been after him. He smiled and everything inside of him seemed to let go.
Nothing to worry about anymore
, he thought.
    Keeping his voice steady, he said, “Never mind them. We do not know them. They mean nothing. We will go in, circumvent the dead ogre, and head up the secret stairs.”
    Surprisingly, she interrupted him. “Circumvent? What’s that mean?”
    â€œIt means,” he said, “to go around.”
    â€œThen say
go around
,” she muttered, adding a bit more loudly, “if it pleases Your Serenity.”
    He thought the addition of the politeness at the end hardly excused her tone in the beginning, but he also felt that they were running out of time.
    I will try to correct her behavior later.
Looking at the boggart bodies, he couldn’t help adding to himself,
If there
is
a later.
To Snail he said,
“I know the way out from the top of the stairs.” He used his strongest Princely Voice, as if going out