Free Shadow Magic by Patricia C. Wrede Page A

her feet, she was nearly wild with the thought that the captain would return just in time to prevent her escape. As she reached the edge of the clearing, she stumbled over one of the sleeping guards and fell to the ground beside him.
    Terrified that the noise would bring the Lithmern captain, she pulled the dagger from the sleeping man’s belt and twisted to look back at the camp. There was still no sign of the captain, so she risked cutting the swordbelt free and taking it as well. Using the sheathed sword as a walking stick, she started slowly off into the forest.
    Twigs and small branches quickly ripped her stockings to shreds, and her bare feet felt every rock and irregularity in the forest floor. She hardly noticed; her one thought was to get as much distance between herself and the Lithmern as she possibly could before the inevitable pursuit began. Whatever had put her captors to sleep, she could not be sure that it would last much longer, and it was always possible that the captain would leave off trying to awaken his men and come after her alone.
    Alethia walked for nearly an hour, her stiffened muscles loosening only gradually. Several times the ruffled lace trimming the sleeves of her ball gown caught in bushes, and she wasted precious moments tearing free. Finally she cut the remaining fragments off with the dagger and threw them away. She was so intent on making progress that she did not see the clearing until she was almost on top of it. In the middle of the open area a man in green and blue sat before a fire with his back to her.
    Alethia stopped abruptly, but the man had heard her, and he turned. At the sight of her, his eyes widened in recognition. “Lady Alethia of Brenn! How came you to the Wyrwood, and in such a state?”
    With relief, she saw that it was the minstrel, Tamsin, who had passed through Brenn a few days previously and sung at her birth eve party. “Lithmern,” she said concisely. Seeing his bemused expression, she added, “I was kidnapped.”
    “I take it you have escaped and pursuit is imminent?” the minstrel said calmly, rising from his seat.
    “They were all asleep when I left, but as soon as their leader finds a way to wake them, they will follow me.”
    Tamsin’s eyebrows climbed toward his hairline, but he kept a credible composure. “You need not walk, my lady. Starbrow and I are at your service,” he said.
    He sounds like a character out of one of those ballads he sang … was it only three nights ago? Alethia did not voice the comment. At the moment, a hero out of a ballad was just what she needed, and if a wandering minstrel was an unlikely candidate, he was still the only one she had. “Starbrow?” she said instead.
    “My horse.” Tamsin whistled, and a moment later a huge chestnut with a white star on his forehead came trotting into the clearing. Tamsin rubbed the horse’s ears, and the animal snorted contentedly.
    “A noble animal, and well trained,” Alethia observed politely, feeling, absurdly, as if she too had fallen into the minstrel’s romance.
    “Thank you, my lady. If you would mount, we had best be on our way.” He kicked some dirt over the fire. “Pity about lunch, but it cannot be helped. We must make do with cold fare.” Bowing extravagantly, he lifted her onto the saddle, then sprang lightly up behind.
    Alethia found the sword she carried a little awkward, and she was quite willing to give it up when Tamsin commented mildly, “I should suggest that for now we place that useful implement in one of my bags; it would be most awkward to decapitate our mount at the beginning of the journey.”
    Tamsin accepted the sword and stowed it in one of the saddlebags, a neat trick while riding. From the same bag he produced cold meat and bread, part of which he handed forward to her. Alethia fell to with a will. When she finished, the minstrel passed her a water bottle and asked, “Now, we are under way and we have lunched, in a fashion. If only to pass the