Free A Princess of the Chameln by Cherry Wilder

was giving Aidris some advice.
    â€œYou should grow your hair out and have it ironed straight,” she said. “It gives a pleasing effect. You are what my mother calls a ‘pony girl.’ Green eyes are rare and attractive. You should wear a touch of green to bring out the color.”
    Aidris laughed aloud, and the laugh died in her throat. Telavel had heard the sound too; she pricked her ears and danced about. Riders coming behind them. She turned Telavel aside into the trees and called urgently to Sabeth.
    â€œWe must let them pass.”
    â€œThe path is wide enough . . .”
    â€œWe must hide. Quickly!”
    Elster, the well-mannered black gelding, obeyed, and they went further in.
    â€œI don’t see why . . .” whispered Sabeth.
    â€œThere is trouble in the Chameln lands,” said Aidris. “You saw the troopers at Vigrund. And I have Master Loeke’s gold pouch.”
    The riders came on, and she saw them with a stab of fear. Ten troopers of Mel’Nir, in painted strip mail, mounted on the monstrous horses bred to bear their weight. She heard at last the jingle of harness, the earth-shaking hoofbeats.
    Sabeth shivered deliciously.
    â€œSuch big men,” she whispered. “I have heard such tales . . . Some women are too small in the hips to bear their children. It happened to the Markgraf’s youngest sister.”
    â€œBe quiet!” said Aidris.
    She felt a wave of revulsion, remembering Aravel by her side, dropping poison. Up ahead the troopers drew to a clashing halt at the crossroads; now Sabeth was afraid.
    â€œIf they search?”
    â€œWe can outride them,” said Aidris firmly. “We will go straight in among the trees. They cannot follow.”
    â€œWe would be lost!”
    There were shouted commands, then came a murmur of voices. Aidris urged Telavel gently through the trees and came just within earshot. The ten great horses stamped and snorted; she heard the rumbling voice of the officer, and a high quavering reply. The troopers were questioning an old woman. At first she wailed and pleaded for them to leave her alone, then came the end of a reply.
    â€œ. . . Grafell Pass?”
    The officer spoke again, and the old woman repeated the question.
    â€œTravelers? Young maid? Shame on you, big bocks. There be no maids in Aldero!”
    A ripple of laughter from the soldiers; the old woman cried out again:
    â€œAm Firn? Am Firn? Here in the forest? Today or yesterday?”
    The questioner prompted.
    â€œAh,” she cried, “those ones? The black, the brown mare and the chameln grey? What about those ones?”
    Aidris held her breath.
    â€œThank you,” sang the old woman. “You’re a king’s son, my darling. Prince Pine will bless you, and Lady Rowan will deck your first-born’s cradle. Those travellers are four hours ahead of you along this road to Grafell Pass. Straight on . . . turn downhill at the stone slide!”
    There was a shout, and the whole troop took off at a gallop. Sabeth came up.
    â€œThey’ve gone!”
    â€œShe sent them away,” said Aidris. “The old woman saved us. She had no love for the warriors of Mel’Nir.”
    She rode Telavel boldly out onto the road, and Sabeth followed, protesting. They came up to the crossroads with the tall elm, and there stood the old woman. Aidris had pictured her as small and bent, a Firnish old woman, but she was tall and grey-brown, like a tree in winter. As they came up, she stared and then laughed and gave a whistle. A thin black hound crept out of the bushes and came to heel.
    â€œLook there!” sang the old woman. “Look there, dog dear—two beautiful princesses. Am Firn and Am Zor, the bright and the dark.”
    Aidris blushed; she looked at Sabeth, who only primped and laughed. She was used to compliments.
    â€œWhat will you give me, children?” asked the old woman boldly. “Those incomers gave me bronze