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on, it must have taken hundreds of men to build that castle."
"No men built that castle," Blade whispered back. "In fact I much
doubt whether it was built at all. When Baloran lived near Allanmere, he
had a small castle of his own. If that is not the same castle, it is identical."
Shadow glanced at her companion, wondering if Blade was joking, but
Blade was staring at the castle, her face set in concentration.
"Are you there, mage?" Blade whispered softly, so softly Shadow almost
did not hear. "Are you afraid? Fear me, Baloran, for I am coming for you
and this time it is my game, not yours."
Shadow looked away and shivered. She didn't know which was more
frightening having Baloran for an enemy or Blade for an ally.
"We will camp," Blade said at last. "I have seen enough."
They circled around to the north, widely skirting the area of the castle,
and camped upstream of it. Once settled, they dined quietly on the
smoked fish and meat Shadow had prepared. Blade made no admission
that the food was better than she had expected, but she ate without
complaint, and that was enough for Shadow, who was in no mood for
bantering.
When she was finished, there was still light enough, so she wandered a
few yards downstream until she found the right bathing spot a quiet
place with a gently sloping sandy bottom, and where the water was clear.
She hung her clothes over a bush and unbound her long braids, wading
only far enough into the cool water to a point where she could sit
comfortably on the sandy floor to wash.
It felt as though she had a week's accumulated swamp muck to wash off
her hair and skin, although logic told her that her many rain wettings and
her swim in the river must have washed away a good deal of it. Still, there
was a great deal of difference between a couple of rinsings in muddy water
and a good scrub in a clean stream with the soap she'd brought wishfully
with her.
Fortune, what she'd give for a nice, soft, warm bed, she thought,
shivering a little in the chill water, a hot bath and a handsome bathboy to
go with it, a hot supper in a tavern somewhere with lots and lots of wine, a
few friendly fellows with dice in their hands and money in their pockets,
and maybe a nice brawny fellow, smelling of wine and leather, who'd care
to come to her room for gaming of a different sort.
"I knew that Fortune-be-damned Guild would be more trouble than it
was worth," she grumbled, rubbing soap into her hair and knuckling the
foam out of her eyes. "I knew it'd be nothing but a headache. I didn't know
it'd also be a backache, and a neckache, and a couple of legaches, and
especially a buttache. Whatever human got the stupid idea of
domesticating those Fortune-be-damned moving mountains should have
also invented some comfortable way for people to sit on them for hours at
a time!
"Next time," Shadow vowed, "I'm bringing six horses and a wagon no
matter what. Next time I'm going to hire a dozen hefty bodyguards. Next
time I'm going to bring ten barrels of wine. Fortune favor me, next time
I'm going to let Donya storm the damned castle and get her fool self
killed!"
Shadow sighed exaggeratedly and dunked her hair underwater,
scrubbing vigorously at the soap. When she surfaced, sputtering and
pushing the wet hair out of her eyes, she was amazed to see Blade sitting
on the bank, looking bored.
"How long have you been sitting there?" Shadow demanded.
Blade shrugged. "Since you went into the water," she said. "As I told
you, Blackfell is my defense against Baloran's mage-sight, and I am yours.
Therefore we must not be separated. Are you going to tell me now I have
violated your modesty?" she added mockingly.
"No, just my privacy," Shadow said annoyedly. "You might have said
something, you know, to let me know you were there."
Blade shrugged again. "What difference does it make? You did not,
after all, have your dozen bodyguards here."
Shadow scowled but decided argument was futile. "If you want a bath,"
she said, "I've got some soap."
Blade raised one eyebrow and smiled, a smile that never reached her
eyes. "Thank you, but I prefer my baths heated," she said. "And I do not
find it wise to discard clothes and weapons so short a distance from my
enemy's lair."
"I suppose you're right," Shadow sighed. She stood up, wrung the water
out of her hair as best she could, and slogged toward shore. "But if I'm
going to my death, I'm not going to it dirty.'"
"Well, I do not want to go to my death thirsty," Blade declared. "So let
us go back to camp, if you will, and attend to my thirst as thoroughly as
you have attended to your cleanliness."
"Now, that I can agree with," Shadow said, pleased. She eyed her
clothes critically, decided that their river dunking had rendered them
clean enough to suffice, and put them back on.
Back at the camp, Blade set out wine and Dragon's Blood while Shadow
combed the snarls out of her wet hair and rebraided it. That task also took
rather more time than Blade would have liked.
"Such long hair cannot but be a hindrance," Blade commented idly. "It
would afford a handy grasp in combat, and an enemy could well throttle
you with your own hair. An expensive vanity."
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