Waking in Dreamland by Jody Lynne Nye Page B

forest.
    A large fish’s head leaned over him, and something wet touched his mouth. Roan tried gratefully to drink. He was very dry.
    “He’s coming to, my dear.” Bergold’s voice, thank the Sleepers. He would explain what had happened. Roan turned his head slightly. Behind the Historian were several more shadows, and the outlines of a herd of bicycles, most of them heavily laden with packs. The steeds had come back at last.
    “How do you feel?” Leonora asked, gently turning his head back with her fingers. “Can you speak?”
    “What are you doing here?” Roan asked at last, his voice sounding far away. Leonora sat back on her heels as Bergold and the others helped Roan sit up.
    “I brought your bicycle,” she said, with the same bright, intense smile that she had worn in his vision of their wedding—but at the moment he wasn’t quite so pleased to see it. “He’s very skittish. He wouldn’t let anyone ride but me. I had to lead Golden Schwinn. All the steeds are unusually nervous. I don’t know what Brom did to them. And we picked up your trail markers. I thought you might want them back.” She gestured to one of the men, who brought Roan the bundle of multicolored arrow-shaped signs.
    “You shouldn’t be here,” Roan said urgently, lowering his voice. His head ached mightily, but he managed to touch it gingerly with both hands. It still felt the same size on the outside, but the inside had ballooned with pain enough to fill several provinces.
    “Of course I should,” Leonora said, the gamine smile taking on a slight edge. “I told you, this is my task as much as yours.”
    Scenting a private argument, the others tactfully withdrew a few paces. Roan didn’t relish what he had to say, but he promised himself he would keep from insulting her this time. He took her hand in both of his.
    “You must go home, Leonora,” he said sincerely, looking deeply into her eyes. “I thank you for coming now, and I’m happy to see you, because I didn’t get to explain my reasons in the court.” Roan’s head ached as he searched for words. “There are undoubtedly hardships ahead. Brom has proved he will stop little short of murder to carry out his task. We must catch him before he finds the Hall of the Sleepers. Those of us who have experience and training in traveling long, hard distances, sleeping out of doors, and dealing with violence are best suited to this mission. We would find the task that much easier if we didn’t have to worry about protecting you at the same time. Please go back to your father, if not tonight, in the morning.”
    “Certainly not,” the princess said, with spirit, dusting her hands together. She manifested a water bottle and held it out to him. “This is my father’s kingdom—and someday mine, as you pointed out. It is right that I help save it from those madmen. I’ll take care of myself. Are you thirsty? You’re covered in sand.”
    “But they’re dangerous! Look at me.” Roan felt the bruise in the middle of his forehead. It had swollen into a perceptible lump, and he bet that it was turning purple.
    “Yes, but you were alone,” Leonora pointed out. “Now, you are not. I brought some of the palace guards. Together, we’ll all be safe.”
    “Does your father know you’re here?”
    “Of course he does. Roan, I’m not going back,” she said, quickly. Roan was aghast. She hadn’t told him.
    “For your own safety,” Roan pleaded. Leonora sat back and folded her arms. Since their childhood, that gesture had meant she had made up her mind, and nothing short of a Changeover would shift her. Perhaps not even that.
    “Men!” Roan stood up woozily to beckon to a pair of uniformed guards standing near the bicycles. They had an apprentice scientist between them. His hands were attached at the forefinger-tips by an unbreakable, woven straw tube.
    It was Captain Spar himself who answered Roan’s call. Spar left the prisoner near the hitching post in the care of