seemed worth the braving.
Several times I came close to turning Lily around and riding away from Ramiro and Alfric and Oliver, straight back through the western gates of Castle di Caela, to lose myself under quilts in my quarters for, oh, six to seven months, Marigold no doubt tapping at my chamber door, hair sculpted and lacquered into the form of a yellow heart and arms laden with lurid pastries. So I would have done, were it not that desertion of one's fellow Knights is punishable by death under the old Solamnic codes. In his present mood, Ramiro, no doubt, would be more than delighted to interpret my refusal as such.
Therefore I looked a last time at Castle di Caela, then set my eyes ahead of me westward, toward the crest of a dark hill that marked the easternmost fingers of the highlands, faintly visible through the gray of the morning and the rain. There, in a misty little copse that stood at the beginning of the Highland Road, a small hooded form awaited us.
My troubles, I figured, were about to increase remarkably.
I had dreaded the moment when we would meet up with Dannelle, dreaded every question from my companions, every Solamnic sniff and headshake, every judgment passed in silence.
So I held my breath a moment as she led her horse out from among the trees. Her hair was tied up for the road, and she was blanketed and booted and armed, but already the rain had soaked through and the mud taken hold.
Nevertheless, she made all of us gasp-even Oliver, who was a young thirteen and no doubt considered a twenty-year-old woman to be ancient past recall. Pushing back her hood, she mounted her little gray palfrey, straddling it effortlessly like a cavalryman, her eyes already on the road ahead of us.
'Thanks be to Huma!' Alfric murmured. 'The women are already following me.'
Ramiro was the first of us to address Dannelle, bowing ponderously in the saddle. Roasted chestnuts dribbled from his pockets as he spoke.
'It is quite an honor, m'lady, that in such inclement weather you would venture so far to bid us farewell. But as m'lady no doubt is aware, the rain shows no sign of abating, and a downpour the likes of this is passing uncomfortable for the delicate and frail.'
'I shall pass that along to the delicate and frail,' Dannelle replied curtly, 'when we return from this journey and see some of them.'
Ramiro looked at me openmouthed. The overwhelming smell of very cheap cologne arose behind me as I heard a bottle break and Alfric swear.
We all looked back at Dannelle, who smiled winningly. And though I am sure that none of us thought she should join the party, each of us would be drawn, quartered, and boiled before he would suffer losing sight of her. Wordlessly she took her place beside me in the column.
Ramiro ogled her as though she were a pudding or a carafe of wine. Alfric, on the other hand, jostled his way ahead of poor little Oliver, sending the young squire bottom-first into the mud and positioning himself within earshot, intent that no word of intelligence nor endearment would pass his notice.
All in all, it was like a swarm of drone bees following their queen as we reached drier ground and set off westward toward the Vingaard Mountains.
Needless to say, Ramiro had no real intention of letting me command, especially not now, when there was a Dannelle di Caela to strut for and impress and bedazzle. True to form he was-to the Measure and to his promise to Bayard-but by the time we had traveled an hour up the Highland Road, it was clear how he had things planned.
'Shall we stop for a rest and perhaps a wee bit of midday sustenance?' Ramiro asked me, leaning back in the saddle as his large stallion grunted and bravely shifted its flanks to accommodate the change in burden. Beneath the broad brim of his 'traveling hat'-a straw monstrosity that smelled of water and sweat and years of use-his broad nose peeked out of the shadows, and somewhere behind the water coursing over the brim I could make out the glitter of his little eyes as he sized me up.
Instantly I was on guard, for I remembered the castle wisdom, circulated among the cooks and the bakers: When Sir Ramiro of the Maw asks for lunch, be elsewhere and be occupied, or you'll be working on through supper.
From what I knew of Ramiro, one whiling would lead to another. The road would lengthen meal after meal, our travels slowing to a gorged crawl westward. We would be on the road a month, during a journey that should take all of three days.
'Why don't we go on a little more, sir?' I asked graciously, trying to slip a note of command into my voice. The rain seemed to subside as I spoke, and I caught myself almost shouting into Ramiro's ear, shouting into the quiet of softer rainfall and the wet hoof splatter of the horses behind us.
Ramiro reined in his big steed and looked at me slyly from under the drooped corner of that extinct hat.
'I mean… there's time aplenty this evening. For food. For fellowship. Even a warm fire then, sir, when we could all settle down to a good hearty supper among friends,' I explained.
'That tree there is as good as any for stopping,' he replied cheerily, as though my suggestion had been so much rainfall, brushed off readily into the mud beneath him.
'But, Sir Ra-' I began. The big stallion turned and cantered toward a gnarled old vallenwood. Oliver followed suit, as did Alfric behind him.
Dannelle, with scarcely a glance in my direction, followed the rest of them.
The rain picked up again, and with it a chilling wind for the summertime, borne out of the mountains and carrying with it the whiff of icy peaks and evergreen and thin air. But despite its freshness, it was cold, settling on me like a sudden shift in the seasons.
I was afraid for a moment then.
Things were tumbling rapidly out of my control.
I reined Lily toward the shelter and the others.
Whatever lay buried in Ramiro's provisions, one could trust it was not dried fruit or jerky. The big Knight drew an enormous ham from a sailcloth bag on the packhorse. Several loaves of bread followed, and two bottles of wine-a vintage no doubt pinched from Bayard's wine cellar with the sure knowledge that the host, who so seldom drank from it, would go years without missing it.
It was there that I heard Dannelle's story, told to us all between mouthfuls of ham and bread.
It was, as I had guessed it would be, a tale of gender imprisonment.
The three of us-Ramiro, Alfric, and I-rivaled each other to seem even more sympathetic to Dannelle's misfortunes, even more concerned and outraged when she complained of her mistreatment at the hands of a forbidding male world.
Respect and honesty were, as always, excellent disguises.
So we wrinkled our brows with concern, brimmed with sensitivity, and, most importantly, interrupted Dannelle only rarely as she told about her rough week at the hands of her uncle, and how his restrictions had provoked an onslaught of tantrum-throwing and servant abuse never seen before in Castle di Caela.
'Things had reached a real impasse between me and Sir Robert,' Dannelle began. 'You see, I wanted permission to ride Carnifex, which he was not about to let a girl attempt.'
Alfric and I looked at one another with alarm. My brother emitted a low whistle. Carnifex, you see, was a terrible half-wild stallion, a gift of some godforsaken nomad chief to Sir Robert five years back. The horse was nearly ten now, and no more docile or ridable than he had been as a colt. Sir Robert kept him as a huge, unmanageable trophy, a consumer of oats and, occasionally, grooms.
'The first time I asked,' Dannelle continued, 'I sidled up to him like we all sidle-said my 'yes, sirs' and set the matter aside for a month. Then I returned and used the old strategy Enid perfected while Uncle still ran things at the castle.'
'Told him that he had approved it the last time you spoke?' Ramiro asked.
'Of course. It had always worked before,' she explained. 'But of course this was the time he picked to pay attention, and when he saw what I was doing… well, he threatened me, Galen.
'He told me that a few weeks of doing 'women's work' would remove all notions of riding Carnifex from what he called my 'pretty little head.' '
I smothered a smile. Of all the Solamnic Knights who were mired deep in backwardness when it came to the
