Free Sasharia En Garde by Sherwood Smith Page A

hand. “Never mind. It’s the princess thing. Took
me by surprise. Not that I actually am one. My dad was replaced by a new king.”
    “But people remember. Your father was very popular. That’s
why we’ve found so many people to help us.” Devlaen pointed to his sister and
himself.
    Elva grinned. “And so was Princess Atanial.”
    “Atanial.” Sartoran for “shining sun”. I’d forgotten that.
My throat tightened, causing me to breathe deeply the way Mom had taught me. I
didn’t know if I wanted her to find out I was here or not, and have to deal
with all the memories and the pain of the questions we could not answer.
    So I rose and Zathdar led us forward along the gangway. We
dodged around busy crew members. I noticed that nobody stopped or saluted or
any of that. Some of the sailors (and they looked to me more like sailors than
like my idea of pirates) sang as they hauled on halyards. Others high on the
masts talked cheerily.
    The forecastle cabin was narrow but pleasant, two bunks
built into the sharply curving bow with storage built below each bunk, scuttles
for air, and two little fold-down tables on either side of the door. Someone
had set neatly piled clothing on one of the bunks, both of which had soft
cotton-wool blankets on them.
    Zathdar stood on the deck immediately outside the door, for
there wasn’t much space inside. He ducked his head under the low, carved lintel
and indicated the pile of clothing with an open hand. “Donations. Hope
something fits.”
    Elva threw her knapsack onto the other bunk.
    “There’s a cleaning frame down in the crew’s quarters. We
all share it.” Zathdar nodded at my bag. “If you want that stowed below, I can
take it.”
    “No thank you.” I kept the bag gripped in my arms.
    They looked at me, and Elva said diffidently, “What do you
have in that thing, anyway?”
    “Just a lot of boring paperwork of the sort you need on
Earth. And a few childhood keepsakes.”
    “Oh.” Elva turned away and busied herself with unpacking her
knapsack—all three things.
    Zathdar leaned there still, arms over his head and braced
against the lintel, one hand dangling beside his fringed bandana. He didn’t
look the least bit threatening, but Elva set aside the knapsack and scowled at
him, her shoulders tight, arms crossed and held close.
    “I’ll send over the remains of the meal in case you get
hungry.” He turned away, letting sunlight stream into the cabin, and ran up
onto the aftdeck to oversee our emergence from the river into the sea.

Chapter Eight
    Sun remembered the ancient castle. It had belonged to the
crown (whatever family was currently wearing it) for centuries, with occasional
zigzags into the hands of rebellious dukes and princes, and once it was a mage
school, established by a princess whose older sister was the heir.
    On their very first arrival through the World Gate, Math had
conducted her all over the castle, relating its colorful history and pointing
out with boyish delight various sites of magical traps and illusions. Ever since the old mage school was closed, Math had said, the mages keep insisting
they got them all, but then people discover new ones. In fact, Magister
Glathan—he’s my tutor, I hope you will come to love him as I do—made me go
through until I discovered one, as my own master’s test .
    The one Prince Mathias had discovered lay behind what
appeared to be solid wall. Beyond that illusory section of wall, Sun
remembered, someone had built a cozy little room. There they spent their first
night in this world, and their last. The first in a fire of young and ardent
love, the last in close-hugging sorrow at the imminence of parting, their
tired, bewildered ten-year-old daughter pressed between them for comfort. That
they gave. They also kept her between them for safety, which they could only
try to give.
    Sun turned away from the dining hall, and lifted the
tapestry, peering into the mold-walled passage. Even dimly lit by the