The World Above Page 8

  I never had the chance to find out what his response might have been, for as I turned toward Verité to slide the saddlebags from his back, the young man’s older companion abruptly darted forward.

  “Who are you?” he demanded in a harsh, fierce voice. He grabbed me by the shoulders, thrusting his face directly into mine. “What is your name? From whence do you come?”

  “Gen. My name is Gen,” I repeated, and felt a surge of pride that my voice sounded strong. Not high and tight, like the band of fear that was wrapping itself around my chest, threatening to cut off my ability to breathe.

  “That tells me nothing. Nothing at all.” As suddenly as he’d seized me, the man let go. I staggered back, then regained my balance. “Light a torch,” he instructed. “I must have more light.”

  “No,” the young man countered swiftly. “It’s not safe. We’re still too close to the edge of the forest. A light here could be seen through the trees.” He moved to stand beside his friend. Both of them gazed at me in the gathering dark.

  “What is it, Steel?” the youth asked softly. “Tell me what you see, and what you fear.”

  “It isn’t what I fear, young Robin,” replied the man named Steel. “I set aside fear a long time ago. The thing that troubles me now is what I hope.”

  “Hope,” Robin echoed. “That is a word I’ve not heard in quite some time, and then only . . .”

  There was a beat of silence. Then he bowed once more, with genuine respect this time.

  “Ladies, you are to be our guests. Please accept our escort through Greenwood Forest.”

  FOURTEEN

  As soon as the decision that we would accompany the band had been made, Robin began to issue a series of orders in a clear, low voice.

  This must be Robert de Trabant, I thought. For the others obeyed him without question, moving to do his will at once. Several members broke off from the band to walk ahead as scouts. The rest of us left the path and set off two abreast, walking as swiftly as the diminishing light allowed.

  We’re in for it now, I thought. I didn’t think Shannon knew her way through the forest, aside from following the path, and I most certainly did not. We were now completely at the mercy of Robin de Trabant and his band of thieves. I tried to console myself by thinking that if they’d intended to harm Shannon and me, surely they’d have done so by now.

  But they still don’t know who I really am, I thought.

  Robin now took the lead, with Shannon at his side. Steel and I followed, with the rest of the band at regular intervals behind. Last of all was a single man leading Verité.

  How silently they move! I thought. Sure-footed, even in the gathering dark. My own feet felt clumsy by comparison, my body tired and slow, as if the stress of my journey was suddenly catching up with me. Had it really only been two nights ago that I’d slept soundly in my own bed in the World Below?

  As if in answer, my toe caught on an unseen tree root. I managed to stifle a cry, but only Steel’s quick grip on my elbow saved me from pitching forward onto my face.

  “Thank you,” I said when I was steady on my feet once more. “I’m not usually this clumsy.”

  There was a moment’s silence, stretching just long enough that I began to fear that Steel would not reply. Should I try to fill the silence? I wondered. Why does this man care who I am?

  “You are more than welcome,” he finally said. “You must be very tired.”

  Be careful. Watch your words as well as your steps, my mind warned. He’d made a simple statement, but there were questions hidden in it, traps for the unsuspecting. Why are you so tired? How far have you come?

  “Steel is an unusual name,” I observed instead. “Do they call you that for the quickness of your hands or of your mind?”

  I felt rather than saw the way his head turned toward me, but it was not yet so dark that I could not see the flash of white teeth as he smiled.

  “I think it is your mind that is the quick one, mistress,” he replied. “But to answer your question, all of us leave our former names behind when we choose to live in this place.”

  “For your skill with a blade, perhaps,” I suggested.

  “Something like that,” he answered. The tone of his voice told me the conversation was over. Though my feet stayed steady, Steel reached to guide me by the elbow as the path began to climb abruptly. “Not much farther now.”

  We topped the rise. Below me, at the bottom of the slope, I could see a cluster of tents, each beside a flickering campfire. The air felt cooler, and I heard the sound of running water. Robin de Trabant’s camp was spread along its shores, protected by the high embankments on either side.

  They are well hidden, I thought.

  “Come down,” Steel said. “There is food, and you’ll be able to rest.”

  And there is light, and you’ll be able to see my face more clearly, I thought.

  “Thank you,” I said. “You are very kind.”

  Steel squeezed my elbow, bringing us both to a halt.

  “I am many things, Mistress Gen,” he said in a quiet voice. “I’m not sure kind is one of them, not for many years now.”

  “Surely others are the best judge of that,” I answered steadily, though I could feel my heart begin to pound. Why did this man always seem to be fencing words with me? Why would he not say what was on his mind?

  “Perhaps they are,” Steel said. “Let us see what judgment you make before the night is out.”

  Together we walked down the slope toward the light of the campfires.

  The camp was larger than it first appeared. Additional tents were clustered just beyond a nearby bend in the river. Robin and Steel received a warm, though subdued, welcome.

  How careful they all are, even in their joy, I thought.

  Either the appearance of newcomers was so commonplace it no longer caused a stir, or the respect Robin’s people had for him kept their curiosity at bay. I had a feeling it was a combination of both. Shannon and I were silent as we traversed the camp.

  Robin settled us at a tent and campfire a short distance from the main group. Secretly, I suspected he’d just relinquished his own lodging for the night. Then he disappeared into the darkness with Steel at his side. Shannon and I stood looking at each other.

  “Well, so much for getting through the forest undetected,” Shannon remarked. She plopped down on a broad, flat rock near the campfire. Abruptly exhausted, I sat down beside her. In the fire’s flickering light, I could see the tension etched across my new friend’s features.

  “What do you suppose will happen to us now?” I asked in a whisper. The nearest tent was about a stone’s throw away, far enough so that we wouldn’t be easily overheard; but sounds can carry farther than one expects.

  “Steel knows who I am, or at least he suspects. I can think of several reasons for that, most of them not very comforting.”

  I twisted my neck, trying to take in our surroundings, which was all but impossible in the dark.

  “I don’t suppose it will do us any good to try and make a run for it,” I went on.

  “And go in which direction?” Shannon asked. She shook her head. “No. If nothing else, I think we must wait till morning. Then perhaps we can appeal to Robin’s better instincts, assuming that he has some.”

  “He must be Robert de Trabant, don’t you think?” I asked. I leaned in close, my voice barely audible.

  Shannon nodded. “It makes sense,” she agreed. “Robin is a common enough nickname for Robert. And the people here all seem to defer to him.”

  “They do more than that,” I said. “Even from the little we’ve seen, I can tell they clearly have great affection for him. That still doesn’t tell us what he’s going to do with us. Particularly once he finds out who I really am.”

  Shannon reached over and squeezed my hand. “There’s no reason to assume the worst,” she said.

  “You think not? Robin is still Guy de Trabant’s son. Currently he’s heir to two kingdoms combined. But if I can
prove my family’s claim, he’s back down to one. Even the runaway son of a duke might have something to say about that.”

  “A runaway son with a price on his head,” Shannon told me. “Put there by his father. And something tells me we’ll know Robin’s intentions soon enough. He doesn’t strike me as the type to keep things to himself for long.”

  “I beg your pardon,” a voice cut through our conversation. I looked up. A figure stood just outside the circle of firelight. “Robin said I was to return these to you, with his compliments.”

  A boy took a step forward into the light, holding our saddlebags out in front of him.

  “Thank you,” I said, speaking in my normal tone. I gave Shannon’s hand a squeeze, then stood. I took the saddlebags from the boy, then carried them back to my place by the fire and set them on a rock. The boy hesitated, as if torn between caution and curiosity.

  “We have fruit and cheese, a little meat, and some bread,” I said, giving in to a sudden impulse. Perhaps the way to allay my own fears was to make another welcome. “We do not have enough for all, but we would be happy to share with those who need it most, if you will show us who they are.”

  “You have bread?” the boy asked, his eyes wide. “Real bread, not the flat stuff, baked on a stone?”

  Shannon gave an unexpected chuckle. “Real bread,” she affirmed. She got up and opened the saddlebag closest to her. “Baked in a brick oven just this morning. But my friend is right. We have just two loaves, and that is not enough for everyone. We are strangers and do not know the way you decide things among you.”

  She removed a loaf from the saddlebag and held it up. “Will someone help us?” she asked in a voice meant to be heard throughout the camp.

  There was a moment’s silence. I could almost feel the people around us weighing the situation, making up their minds.

  “Mad Tom and his wife have a child who is ill,” a woman’s voice finally called back.

  “Mad Tom?” I echoed.

  The boy at our fire nodded. “On account of the way he never loses his temper,” he explained, as if I should have been able to figure that out for myself.

  I smiled. “Of course.”

  From out of the shadows, a woman materialized beside the boy.

  “They’ve had a hard time getting the child to eat,” she explained, and I recognized her voice. She was the one who had spoken on behalf of Mad Tom’s family. “But I have some broth. If they had some bread, they could dip that in it. It’s nourishing. I bet the boy would eat that right down.”

  “They must have some bread then,” Shannon said with a nod. “Who else would you suggest? May I please borrow a knife? Someone seems to have appropriated mine.”

  “I’ve a knife you can borrow,” a voice offered. A man with ginger whiskers stepped into the circle of firelight. He took a knife from a sheath at his belt and extended it, hilt first, toward Shannon. She accepted it and began to carve the first loaf. Before long, our campfire was host to a serious yet friendly crowd.

  The discussion of how to divide the bread was sometimes heated, but no one took offense if his or her suggestion was overruled. Shannon didn’t touch the knife to the bread until each decision had been agreed on by all involved. Those whose suggestions had been approved carried the pieces to the recipients. There was not a doubt in my mind that each piece would make it safely to those who had been chosen to receive the gift. Like the people of my father’s former land, these folks had learned the benefits of working together.

  Finally two slices of bread remained, the heels from either end of the second loaf.

  “If you all agree, I would like one piece to go to this man, to thank him for the loan of his knife,” Shannon proposed.

  There was a murmur of assent. The man’s face turned as red as his hair. Shannon gave him the bread and thanked him.

  “What do you say to giving this lad the other piece?” I inquired. “He returned the saddlebags to us. Without him, there would have been no bread to share.”

  The boy grinned so that I feared his jaw might crack. But to my surprise, instead of reaching for the bread, he put his hands behind his back, shaking his head in denial.

  “No, mistress,” he said. “By your leave, that isn’t right. I only did what Robin asked, and if I take that piece, then you and your friend have none.”

  I glanced at Shannon. She gave a quick nod.

  “We would like you to have it,” I told the boy. “In thanks for a job well done.”

  “You go ahead and take it, Trip,” a woman urged.

  “That’s right, Trip,” others echoed. “Go on.”

  “Trip,” I said. “That’s what you’re called?”

  The boy’s grin turned sheepish. “On account of the way I’m always falling down.”

  I laughed before I could help myself. “In that case, we have something in common. I met your Robin by falling off a horse.”

  “No!” Trip exclaimed in disbelief.

  “As a matter of fact, she did,” a now familiar voice replied. Robin de Trabant stepped into the firelight with Steel at his side. “But to tell you the truth, it wasn’t her fault. I took her by surprise.”

  “Not you, Robin,” the boy named Trip teased, then blushed bright red.

  Robin reached out and ruffled the lad’s hair, but his eyes stayed on mine. Their color was still the same, of course, but the expression in them was different. They looked puzzled, as if the scene that he’d just witnessed did not match the one he’d expected to see.

  “It’s true. I took unfair advantage, I admit. The lady is offering you a gift, young Trip. If I were in your shoes, I’d think twice about saying no.”

  “Do you really mean for me to have it?” he asked.

  “I really do,” I said. I took it from Shannon and held it out to the boy.

  “Oh, thank you,” Trip breathed. “I haven’t had real bread in ever so long.”

  Carefully he cradled the bread between both hands, as if it were gold. Then he took two steps back, spun on his heel, and was gone. As if his departure had been a signal, the others began to fade away. Soon only Robin, Steel, Shannon, and I stood in the circle cast by the light of our campfire. The bandit leader and the older man stood on one side. Shannon and I stood on the other.

  Now we’ll come to things, I thought.

  “That was thoughtfully done,” Robin said. He took a stick and began to poke at the fire, gazing into the flames. “Still, you might have kept something for yourselves.”

  “You suggested we share. We took your suggestion,” Shannon answered, matching his casual tone. She cocked her head to one side, like a bird studying a worm. “Though somehow I have the feeling that if we had kept something back, you’d still be dissatisfied. And it was Gen’s idea, if you’ll recall.”

  “So it was,” Robin acknowledged. With the appearance of perfect unconcern, he stabbed at the coals. “If you were seeking to create some advantage, I’m afraid you’ll have to work a little harder than that. These people may not have much, but they are not bribed as easily as that.”

  The warmth I’d felt at Robin’s banter with the boy vanished as hot fury took its place. I took a step closer to him, heedless of the way my skirts came perilously close to the fire.

  “You,” I said, “are petty, suspicious, and insufferable. I’m surprised these people follow you at all. I guess there must be more to you than meets the eye. Try opening yours.”

  Robin’s head snapped up. “My eyes work just fine, thank you,” he said. “It’s interpreting what they see that is the challenge. Appearances can be deceptive, after all. The eyes can be fooled by what the heart desires.”

  “But first,” I said, “you must have one.”

  “Oh, I have a heart,” Robin said. “And it’s more caring than you know. It would spare an old friend pain, for example. If it could.”

  “It can’t,” Steel put in before I could respond. Even through my annoyance, I could hear his tension. “Just let me ask. Let m
e hear the truth. That’s all I want.”

  “But will she speak the truth?” Robin inquired.

  “How dare you?” I said as the heat of my fury abruptly metamorphosed into solid ice. “You don’t know me at all. How dare you doubt me? Of course I’ll speak the truth.”

  “Ask your question, Steel,” Robin said softly. Even through the cold of my anger, I shivered at the sound of his voice.

  “Who are you?” Steel asked, just as he had before. “Your full name, please. That’s all I ask.”

  Now that the moment to declare myself had come, I felt absolutely calm. “My name is Gentian des Jardins,” I said in a steady voice. “Gen, for short.”

  Jack was right, I thought. Sooner or later, you have to risk yourself.

  “My mother is Celine Marchand,” I went on. “My father was Duke Roland des Jardins, murdered and deposed these sixteen years ago. There,” I said to the young man I had every reason to believe was Guy de Trabant’s son. “Is that truth enough for you?”

  Robin did not respond. Instead there was a silence so complete I swear that even the voice of the wind stopped talking. Slowly Steel sank to his knees, head bowed.

  “I knew it,” he whispered in a tortured voice. “I knew it must be so. You look so much like your mother there could be no other explanation.”

  He lifted his face, and I could see tears running down his cheeks. “But how is this possible? No trace of Duchess Celine was ever found.”

  “We have been in hiding,” I answered. “Though my mother would have used the word ‘exile.’”

  “Where?” Robin’s voice was like the flick of a whip. “Where can you have been so well hidden that no one in all this land knew your whereabouts?”

  “You have answered the question yourself,” I said, and watched as his eyes grew wide.

  “Merciful heavens,” he said. “The World Below.”

  “I have answered your questions truthfully,” I said. “I have given you my name, now give me yours.”

  “My name is Robert de Trabant,” Robin said. “Sixteen years ago my father brought about the death of yours, though he did not strike the blow himself.”