weaker.”
No weaker. The specter had spoken true, about this at least.
“Are you hurt? Your arm looks—”
“I’m fine.” The specter’s trap—the tunnel—still menaced. “Can you cover that hole?”
Rhys replaced the rock over the entrance with difficulty, panting from the effort. “This is the worst spot in the forest, I think.” He paused to catch his breath. “I found a clearing not far from here. Do you want to go there?”
I nodded and followed him, struggling to overcome my fright.
He turned his head and said, “Orne believes specters are beautiful, but I . . .”
I should have recognized the monster for what it was. Rhys, the real Rhys, would never steal a ring or take advantage of a dwarf’s drunkenness.
How did I know this Rhys was real? He had saved me from the hole, but he still could be . . . Maybe I was the victim of a scheme among several specters. He too was taking me to a place I didn’t know.
I studied his back as I followed him, but it told me nothing.
“The clearing should be very close. Let me see. Ah, yes. Here it is.”
Nothing seemed wrong. Again, I was comforted by the sight of the sky. It was still night, but the stars were beginning to fade.
Rhys twirled around to face me, his cloak billowing out behind him. “I’m so glad I found you.”
“How did you know where to look?”
“Princess Meryl said she’d told you that specters might know where to find the cure.”
That was true. She had said that. For a moment I relaxed, but then I began to doubt again. A specter could know what Meryl had said.
I knelt down and began to clear away dead leaves, working furiously. When she’d caught the specter at Lake Orrinic, Meryl had shown me how to detect the creatures.
“What are you doing, Princess Addie? May I help?”
I ignored him. In a few minutes I had cleared a space. The soil was moist, spongy. I leaned on it with my hand and made a handprint.
I sat back and said, “Stand here.”
He looked puzzled but stood where I told him.
“Now step away.”
He did—and left no footprints.
“You’re . . .” My voice cracked. “You’re a specter too. You should have known better than to try to trick me twice.”
The monster stood there stupidly. It still had my sack. I reached up and snatched it, and the creature offered no resistance. Clutching the sack tight, I began to pull off my ordinary boots. “So tell me what you know, creature,” I panted. Then I shouted, roared, “How fares my sister truly?”
“Princess Addie, I’m no specter.” It fell to its knees, clasping its hands dramatically. It played the real Rhys to a fare-thee-well. “What test did I fail?”
I yanked the magic boots out of the sack and pushed my ordinary ones in. “You know the test, and so do I. Now you must answer my question. Tell me true, how fares my sister?” I stuck my right foot into a magic boot—the left magic boot. I pulled the boot off. “Answer me, I command you.”
“If I don’t answer you, doesn’t that prove I’m no specter?”
I sat still. I didn’t know. Then I shook my head. “You proved what you are when you couldn’t leave a footprint.”
It chuckled. Chuckled! It was having a fine time, toying with me.
“That’s the trouble?” it said. “I can leave a footprint, nothing easier.” It stepped back into the space I’d cleared, then stepped away, leaving two undeniable boot prints.
“They’re the boots, not you. You’re a sorcerer. You can do anything. I mean, you’re a specter, and you can do anything.”
It sat on the ground and began to unlace its boots. “Sorcerers’ feet are very ugly, very bony. I would have spared you the sight.” It pulled off its hose, which had a big darn at the right heel.
Its toes were bony, with a tuft of hair at the knuckles. Its toenails needed trimming. It returned to the cleared spot . . .
And made two glorious footprints.
He was Rhys!
I smiled up at him, flooded with relief. “But why didn’t you
No weaker. The specter had spoken true, about this at least.
“Are you hurt? Your arm looks—”
“I’m fine.” The specter’s trap—the tunnel—still menaced. “Can you cover that hole?”
Rhys replaced the rock over the entrance with difficulty, panting from the effort. “This is the worst spot in the forest, I think.” He paused to catch his breath. “I found a clearing not far from here. Do you want to go there?”
I nodded and followed him, struggling to overcome my fright.
He turned his head and said, “Orne believes specters are beautiful, but I . . .”
I should have recognized the monster for what it was. Rhys, the real Rhys, would never steal a ring or take advantage of a dwarf’s drunkenness.
How did I know this Rhys was real? He had saved me from the hole, but he still could be . . . Maybe I was the victim of a scheme among several specters. He too was taking me to a place I didn’t know.
I studied his back as I followed him, but it told me nothing.
“The clearing should be very close. Let me see. Ah, yes. Here it is.”
Nothing seemed wrong. Again, I was comforted by the sight of the sky. It was still night, but the stars were beginning to fade.
Rhys twirled around to face me, his cloak billowing out behind him. “I’m so glad I found you.”
“How did you know where to look?”
“Princess Meryl said she’d told you that specters might know where to find the cure.”
That was true. She had said that. For a moment I relaxed, but then I began to doubt again. A specter could know what Meryl had said.
I knelt down and began to clear away dead leaves, working furiously. When she’d caught the specter at Lake Orrinic, Meryl had shown me how to detect the creatures.
“What are you doing, Princess Addie? May I help?”
I ignored him. In a few minutes I had cleared a space. The soil was moist, spongy. I leaned on it with my hand and made a handprint.
I sat back and said, “Stand here.”
He looked puzzled but stood where I told him.
“Now step away.”
He did—and left no footprints.
“You’re . . .” My voice cracked. “You’re a specter too. You should have known better than to try to trick me twice.”
The monster stood there stupidly. It still had my sack. I reached up and snatched it, and the creature offered no resistance. Clutching the sack tight, I began to pull off my ordinary boots. “So tell me what you know, creature,” I panted. Then I shouted, roared, “How fares my sister truly?”
“Princess Addie, I’m no specter.” It fell to its knees, clasping its hands dramatically. It played the real Rhys to a fare-thee-well. “What test did I fail?”
I yanked the magic boots out of the sack and pushed my ordinary ones in. “You know the test, and so do I. Now you must answer my question. Tell me true, how fares my sister?” I stuck my right foot into a magic boot—the left magic boot. I pulled the boot off. “Answer me, I command you.”
“If I don’t answer you, doesn’t that prove I’m no specter?”
I sat still. I didn’t know. Then I shook my head. “You proved what you are when you couldn’t leave a footprint.”
It chuckled. Chuckled! It was having a fine time, toying with me.
“That’s the trouble?” it said. “I can leave a footprint, nothing easier.” It stepped back into the space I’d cleared, then stepped away, leaving two undeniable boot prints.
“They’re the boots, not you. You’re a sorcerer. You can do anything. I mean, you’re a specter, and you can do anything.”
It sat on the ground and began to unlace its boots. “Sorcerers’ feet are very ugly, very bony. I would have spared you the sight.” It pulled off its hose, which had a big darn at the right heel.
Its toes were bony, with a tuft of hair at the knuckles. Its toenails needed trimming. It returned to the cleared spot . . .
And made two glorious footprints.
He was Rhys!
I smiled up at him, flooded with relief. “But why didn’t you
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