When she donned her traveling dress early in the morning, the chipmunk was already in the pocket announcing itself with a high-pitched chitter. Below, the travelers were already assembling in the stable yard. Xulai’s fear of loneliness lifted a little as she actually saw her escort assembled. They were all people she knew well: Oldwife Gancer, gray haired and dark skinned, somewhat stout and wrinkled as a winter apple; Bartelmy, the fletcher’s son, a crossbowman, so fair as to be almost silver haired, keen eared, brown from the sun, green eyed, like a sight-hound in stance and movement, lean, alert, and nervy. He would drive the chestnut pair hitched to the hop-skip in which Oldwife and Xulai would begin the trip. Behind them four black horses drew the wagon with the brothers Willum and Clive Farrier driving. They were nephews of Horsemaster, and Xulai knew them well from the stables, bulky, muscular men, heavy across the shoulders as a team of oxen, much of an age and alike except that Willum was yellow haired and balding while Clive wore a long, copper-colored braid down his back.
Next came the heavy dray, pulled by six mules and driven by Pecky Peavine and Black Mike. Pecky was a cousin to Bartelmy, a small man with the family’s pale hair and green eyes, a beaky nose, and a perpetually smiling mouth. Pecky had been raised on the castle farms. He was good with growing things, quick with his hands, weaving and willowy as his name, his arms and legs thin but roped with muscle. Black Mike was from the workshops and the smithy, called black because he was: hair, beard, eyes, and skin. He was a grandnephew of Oldwife Gancer, and he could fix anything, or build it from scratch. All the men but Bartelmy and—probably—Bear were as likely as any other to drink too much and play the fool occasionally (so said Oldwife), but otherwise, they were dependable as daylight.
Behind the dray was the company-trot, the larger, closed carriage carrying only Precious Wind and her friend Nettie Lean on one seat, all the rest of its space filled with traveling supplies. The Great Bear of Zol would drive the four horses. Nettie was a widow: graceful, widemouthed, blue eyed and auburn haired. She had raised her widower husband’s sons by his late wife, had lost them when they set off to seek their fortunes, and then had lost her husband as well. She had no other kin but an aunt off at Wilderbrook Abbey, or so she thought, though it had been years since she’d heard from Aunt Belika. She and Precious Wind had formed a strong friendship in the last several years, as had all the others, except Bear, who tended to hold himself aloof as befit bears in general. The others respected his strength and skill too much to cavil at it. Either that or they were too wary of his temper and his touchy pride. Everyone knew everyone else and his family, everyone was amiable, so there’d be no quarrels to make the trip more difficult. Nettie was not attracted to any of the men, nor they to her, and Xulai felt this was no accident. The duke had thought of this as he had thought of everything else. The trip was to be made quickly, peacefully, and safely. Xulai might go on grieving her loss for some long time, but she was not to be aggravated by dissension among her people or be lonely for familiar faces.
Added to this entourage was Xulai’s horse, Flaxen, on a lead rein behind the hop-skip.
So, Xulai thought to herself: six men, four women—she was slightly surprised to be counting herself as a woman—ten horses; six mules; one small riding horse; two cats traveling in their large, well-padded basket with the latticework lid carefully fastened down; and one tiny, secret chipmunk that neither Oldwife nor Precious Wind would have countenanced for a moment if they’d known about him. Or her, perhaps. It could as well be a girl chipmunk.
Justinian, dressed all in the deep purple he had worn since the princess’s death, went to the back of the line and there spoke to Abasio, who had just pulled his wagon into line. Justinian had had a long conversation with him the night before; now he shook his hand, then turned and came forward, speaking to each one of his people and waiting until each one of them had nodded in agreement. He was telling each one of them what he had told her. She was being sent away to take the soul of the princess back to her people.
“Xulai is of an age to be in school, and the school at the abbey of Wilderbrook is known to be a good one; you will stop there at least until spring makes the mountain roads less dangerous. While Bear scouts the southern trail for the following spring, you will remain at the abbey to take care of Xulai and see to her needs while she is at school. Her care is a debt of honor that I as Duke of Wold owe to my wife’s father, the Prince Lok-i-xan, Tingawan ambassador. Do you understand?”
And each of them said yes, they understood. The duke had chosen from among his people none who were not reliable and steady. Each of them was fond of Xulai, and though they would not say it, some of them might have been grateful to be leaving Woldsgard, for by this time everyone knew of the cloud that hung over the place. Beyond him, she saw Abasio’s wagon pull into line behind the dray. He saw her and lifted his hand in salute. Blue neighed and flopped one ear.
Justinian returned to the carriage and leaned in to kiss Xulai good-bye. She grasped his hand and jumped down, drawing him after her. He
