as Princess Essa.’
‘Yeah, lucky you,’ I said, drinking the last of my now cold tea.
‘I am very fortunate indeed. You said, Conor, that you wanted to ask me a question; now I have one that I have always wanted to ask you.’
‘Shoot.’
‘Once you had her, why in The Land would you have let Essa go?’
I toyed with the idea of grabbing a flaming log from the fire and clocking him with it. I even imagined the spectacular shower of sparks as he went down. Instead I answered his question with a question. ‘Do you remember what you asked me at the beginning of this conversation?’ When he looked confused I answered for him. ‘You asked if you could help me with my moral dilemma. Would you like to know what my dilemma was?’
Turlow shrugged.
‘I was debating whether it was OK to like you or not.’
‘And what conclusion did you reach?’
‘I’d gotten as far as deciding that I don’t like you.’
‘And you were wondering if that is OK?’
‘Basically,’ I said.
‘I wouldn’t worry about it too much, Conor, I don’t like you very much either.’
‘You don’t?’ I said enthusiastically. ‘That’s good to hear.’
Turlow smiled and shook his head. ‘You are a strange man, Prince of Oak. Go to your tent, I will take your watch.’
‘You don’t have to do that.’
‘There is no sleep in my near future – go.’
‘OK,’ I said, ‘but don’t think this will make me like you any better.’
‘Good night, Conor,’ Turlow said with that exasperated tone that I usually reserve for my friends and relatives. It didn’t sound right coming from him.
I dreamt that night that the two Brownies climbed down from the tree wearing army uniforms. Then uniformed Brownies dropped from every tree, as far as the eye could see. They converged into ranks until a huge Brownie army marched towards me from all directions. Just as they were about to overwhelm me someone pointed to the sky and we all looked up.
I opened my eyes to see Brendan looming over me in the tent. It was still dark outside.
‘What’s up?’ I croaked.
‘Nothing,’ he whispered. ‘Go back to sleep.’
So I did.
Tuan and Yogi offered to share a horse and give Yogi’s mount for the Brownies to ride. They declined the offer. I figured that since our guides were on foot that it would be a slow travel day – wrong. These guys were speedy. They moved so fast I felt like an old English fox hunter. It was actually hard to keep up. Mostly because the trails they chose were made for runners, not riders. I spent the whole day getting whipped in the face by alder branches that I suspected enjoyed it.
We broke for lunch and offered food to our guides. They might not be willing to share information with us but they had no problem packing away our food. I guess if you run as fast as a horse for four hours, you are entitled to eat like one. These guys each wolfed down what three of us would have had at a feast. I made sure I didn’t reach for any food at the same time as one of them for fear of losing a finger.
I said this to Essa, who I noticed chose to sit next to me at lunch, and she laughed so hard she almost spat out what she was eating. I may not have the Turd-low’s good looks or kingly crown but I can make that girl laugh. That’s gotta count for something, right?
That afternoon the trail became wider and less whack-a-face but instead of going faster the Brownies slowed down to almost a jog. I couldn’t figure out if these guys had burned themselves out on their morning sprint or if they had been running deliberately fast so that our faces were lacerated for the amusement of the alder trees. Araf, who is normally not the suspicious type, had a different take on it. He got the impression that the Brownies were deliberately slowing us down but he couldn’t say why.
Late in the afternoon the Brownies halted for ‘tea’. Essa forcefully pointed out that we do not halt for tea but even her menacing glare, a look that has withered many a determined man, could not dissuade Dell and his yet unnamed sidekick from plopping themselves down in the frozen dirt and demanding food.
‘Don’t they feed you in Brownieville?’ Brendan asked.
Dell ignored him and the other one’s mouth was too full to talk.
Brendan casually pulled me aside during our afternoon tea. ‘You had a long chat with Turlow last night.’
‘Are you spying on me? I’m surprised I didn’t find you waiting up in the tent saying, “And what time do you call this?”’
‘I don’t have to spy on you, Conor. All I have to do is ask you a question – you’re a crappy liar.’
‘Thanks… I think.’
‘So what did you two talk about?’
‘Well, if you must know, he talked about how my Uncle Cialtie had mucked up his life. I hate to say it but I’m starting to think that maybe Turlow isn’t such a bad guy. I mean he’s still a pompous jerk but maybe I should cut him a little slack.’
‘Maybe,’ Brendan said thoughtfully.
‘What da ya mean maybe? You told me you liked the guy.’
‘I did until he lied to me today.’
‘What? Did he say he liked your shirt? Because you are right, that would be a lie.’
After an appropriately dirty look, Brendan said, ‘I didn’t sleep well last night. Those Brownies bother me.’
‘Yeah, I wasn’t too pleased with the thought of them up in the trees myself.’
‘No, it wasn’t that,’ Brendan said. He flexed his fingers into and out of a fist. It was the thing he did when he was trying to figure something out. ‘It’s like when I’m in an interrogation room and there is something I am missing but I don’t know what. That’s what it’s like when the Brownies are around.’
‘Well, if you suspect them of stealing something you’re probably right. But what’s this got to do with Turd- low?’
‘I got up last night to relieve myself and saw Turlow talking to that Brownie fellow. When they saw me the Brownie scooted back into the tree – fast – and Turlow looked mighty guilty when he walked back to the fire.’
‘What do you think they were talking about?’ I asked.
‘I don’t know. When I mentioned it to Turlow after lunch, he denied it. When I pointed out to him that I saw the two of them together, he suddenly remembered and said that Dell had just come down from the trees to relieve himself and he only passed a casual greeting with him.’
‘It sounds like there were a lot of weak bladders roaming around last night. How do you know he’s not telling you the truth?’
‘I don’t really,’ he said with a sigh. ‘It’s just that… something isn’t right here and I’m not going to sleep well until I figure it out.’
Chapter Twenty-Seven
After their afternoon tea, the Brownies resumed the lead – this time at a walk. Yogi once again offered them his mount but they declined and continued like it was a Sunday stroll in the park. At dusk they announced that it was time to break for dinner. Essa freaked out on them but they ignored her and started a fire. When Essa refused to give them any of our food they opened their packs and cooked their own. Everyone else resigned themselves to the Brownies’ erratic schedule and dismounted. Finally Essa did too and we began to make camp while the Brownies ate their dinner – which they didn’t share.
