“Your station during the longer journey before you remains as yet undetermined,” the Grigon-shadow growled, obviously displeased with my retort. “Should it be necessary for the exalted Princess Bellna to adopt the actions and mannerisms of a peasant girl to escape her father’s enemies, it is best that she be fully prepared to do so.
This walk will begin to prepare her.”
His grip tightened even more on my arm, and then I was yanked along so hard I nearly went down from the pull. I felt outrage and shock that a servant like Grigon would act that way with me, then impatiently pushed those feelings aside. The reaction was Bellna’s rather than mine, just as most of my previous speech had been. I wasn’t used to keeping the new set of memories and personality from affecting my own, and the lack had already begun making trouble. I can’t say I enjoyed the way Grigon was manhandling me through the windy dark, but getting up on a high horse wasn’t the way to stop it.
His dialogue had told me we were in enemy territory and had to watch what we said, so it was hardly the place to teach him the right way to greet a fellow conspirator. It would be smarter to wait until we got where we were going and could talk freely – even though ignoring the annoyance was hard. I got a left handed grip on the cape and long-skirted dress I was wearing, got them out of the way of the hurried steps being forced on me, and just followed quietly – if not meekly along;
It took at least twenty minutes to reach our destination. Grigon started out at a good clip that had me almost running beside him, but we weren’t following a road or even a trail. Continuing on like that in the dark would have run us into a tree or a ground depression in no time, and the man knew it. He slowed almost at once and gestured one of the other three into leading our little parade, giving him the job of traversing the terrain before we set our dainty boots on it.
The chosen one took over the job of point without comment, leaving the other two to follow along behind. We moved a little faster then, but not so fast that I had trouble keeping up. I hate wearing skirts, most especially long skirts, but awkward or not, that’s what I had to work with. All Tildorani women dressed that way, even underage princesses who had been given their way much too often in life.
The wind whipped all our capes around, and the dark was so deep under the trees that we wouldn’t have been able to see the moons even if there hadn’t been clouds. I didn’t know we had reached where we were going until I saw the small clearing we had entered, and looked around the side of the big man in front of me to see the large, wooden two-story we were approaching. Bellna had never been to the hunting lodge, and I could feel the sense of reserved curiosity that sight of it brought to the part that was her. She knew that her father had used it and for that reason it was somewhat acceptable, but other than that it was much too low-class to suit her tastes.
Although I hadn’t exactly been raised in a barn myself, her attitude made me want to shake my head. Snobs have their place in life, I suppose, and I’m just being short-sighted in not being able to see where.
A dark shadow stepped into sight on the other side of the clearing, grew an arm to gesture with, then melted back into the trees it had come from. Grigon did nothing to acknowledge the ahead signal; he spoke, instead, to the three men with us.
“The lodge remains secure,” he said, his gruff voice low enough to carry no farther than the men around us.
“I will take the girl inside and remain to instruct her. For you, the others do not exist. Guard us as though you were alone.”
The three gave no vocal agreement, but there was no doubt they’d follow orders. Two of them moved away from us toward the sides of the lodge as Grigon pulled me toward the wide porch that fronted the place, and by the time we reached the door the two were gone from sight and hearing. The third had let us pass him and then had followed, but once he reached the steps leading up to the porch be stopped and turned around, his back to the lodge as he faced outward.
I caught a glimpse of a sheathed sword as he turned to take his post, and then Grigon had pulled me through the door he had opened, into the dimly lit interior. The door was closed again with a firm click, and at long last my arm was released from capture. I took the opportunity to rub it as I looked around, squinting only a little at the increased light as Grigon turned the lamp higher.
The word “rustic” must have been coined for the room we stood in. The log walls were well made and properly sealed, but were totally undecorated except for the bows and spears hanging on two of them, mostly around the two closed doors. A big stone fireplace dominated another of the walls, with four heavy, handmade chairs standing not far from the crackling blaze someone had started on its hearth. The only wall that wasn’t bare was the front one containing windows; heavy brown drapes covered them so that they couldn’t be seen from inside. The wooden floors were as bare as most of the walls, but the whole place was neat and entirely lacking that empty, untenanted feel that seldom-used places usually had. I unhooked my cape and began to slide it off my shoulders, already feeling the difference the fire made after the cool of the night; as I did so, the man called Grigon stopped prowling around and. came over to give me the benefit of his expertise.
“There was no need whatsoever for you to attempt so superior a manner,” he said, unhooking his own cape and pulling it off as he glared at me. He was a tall man with a thin face and a perpetually stooped look, wearing black pants and boots and a wide-sleeved, plain white shirt. “You were commanded to silence, and silent you should have remained. Such behavior was unprofessional and the height of stupidity. It will not be forgotten.”
“How good of you to greet me so warmly,” I drawled, hanging my cape over my left arm with a comradely smile. He was still using the Tildorani tongue, so I did the same. “Your graciousness will be a great comfort to me during my sojourn here.”
“Your manner remains entirely unacceptable,” he growled, a faint flush of anger tingling his smooth-shaven cheeks. “It is neither the youthful imperiousness of the princess, nor the carefully respectful response of a peasant girl. Do you think yourself in the midst of a female group-sewing, that you behave so? Do you seek to nullify our careful planning?”
“It is scarcely possible for me to nullify your superior planning from this room,” I came back, finding it impossible to keep the dryness from my voice. “I would, however, appreciate being informed concerning the reason for your having twice referred to the possibility of my being presented as a peasant girl. I was given the impression in base that I was to be the Princess Bellna alone.”
“Guard your unthinking tongue!” he snapped, the look in his dark eyes sharpening. “Though this lodge is secure, you are not again to refer to ‘base’! Also, it is not for you to question what role you will play! Should we think it necessary that you be disguised as a peasant, you will obey our orders without question – if such a difficult undertaking is not beyond your abilities! You stand dressed in the clothing of a princess; remove it and show me the peasant girl I may require.”
His voice had grown cold and haughty, a Tildorani male giving orders to a lowly female. My temper flared in response to his attitude, but my own reactions were sweet calm compared to the outrage coming from the Bellna personality. No one spoke to a princess like that, and she wasn’t about to stand for it.
“How dare you!” I found myself hissing, fists clenched as I leaned forward toward the man not far from me. “Is it now that you will overstep yourself, peasantish servant? Am I now to be able to speak to my father, giving him proof of your lack of respect for me? Till now he has laughingly dismissed my protests; there will be little laughter caused by this! Show me to my rooms at once, and perhaps you will retain your head when your man – hood has been taken!”
I looked coldly upon the wretch, seeing his frown and the first signs of apprehension. Surely did he know that my words had not been idle, yet rather than attempt apology he abruptly straightened from the stoop that had ever been a part of him, strode across the distance separating us, then grasped my arms. He shook me with strength, shocking me with such unbelievable behavior, and I didn’t know what the hell was going on.
“Snap out of it!” Grigon ordered, clear worry in his eyes as he shook me again. “That’s the second time you’ve done it, and this time I’m sure. Cut it out!”
“Cut what out?” I growled, raising both fists in front of me and then snapping them outward to break his hold. He had shifted to base language, and that seemed to be adding to my confusion. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about that speech you just gave me,” he answered, his eyes narrowed as he looked at me. He seemed both larger and younger now that he’d dropped his roll – and a lot less belligerent. “Bellna has resented Grigon’s influence over her father for a long time, and she and he have had more than one venomous exchange like that. That wasn’t you pretending to be Bellna; that was Bellna herself.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I scoffed, picking up my cape and then looking around for some place other than the floor to put it down. “Just because I don’t have the hang of using her persona yet doesn’t mean there’s anything strange going on. Once I get a little practice in, her personality won’t jump out every time she gets upset.”
“You’re missing the point,” he said, his touch on my arm bringing my eyes back to his sober face. “I don’t know where you got the idea that practice has anything to do with it, but her personality isn’t supposed to jump out at all. It’s an unliving, unaware reference file, not another person inside your head to be fought with. Does Dameron know about this?”
I stared at him for a minute without answering, feel-mg even more confused, then finally shook my head.
“How can Dameron know about it when I don’t know about it?” I asked, searching his face for signs that he was putting me on. “Are you trying to tell me that impression isn’t supposed to work this way?
That this sort of thing-whatever it is – has never happened to anyone else?”
“Not until now.” he took a deep breath as he looked away from me, let it out slowly, then brought his eyes back. “It’s a good thing I had a communicator installed here, just in case. I’d better call Dameron.”
“And tell him what?” I demanded, stopping Grigon as he began turning away from me. “That we scrap the whole project because of one minor unexpected complication? A suggestion like that is guaranteed to make him love you forever.”
“One minor complication?” he echoed, outrage thick in his tone.
“You’ve got a living, thinking Bellna sharing your head and body, taking over whenever she pleases, and you call that minor? Has anyone ever told you you have a gift for understatement?”
“She doesn’t take over whenever she pleases,” I denied sourly, deciding I might as well hang onto the damned cape for a while.
“She’s been able to take over to a small extent because I didn’t know she wasn’t supposed to be able to. From now on I’ll make sure I stay permanently in the driver’s seat.”
“Oh, sure you will,” he agreed with heavy sarcasm, turning all the way back to me and folding his arms. “You’ll have no trouble at all in making a fifteen-year-old brat do things your way while Clero’s men close in from all sides. They won’t distract you from matching wills with her, and she won’t distract you from keeping yourself unsplited. It’s done all the time.”
“If it isn’t done all the time, how do you know how hard it will be?” I countered, getting more and more annoyed at his pessimism.
“And I thought this project was a top-priority, die-before-failing necessity. Someone listening to you would think you were looking for a reason to call it off.”
I was trying to put him on the defensive, trying to take his mind off the single track it had been clinging to, but the man was no child or beginner. Instead of getting insulted or trying to justify his position, he let his eyes grow cold.
“You’re right about this being a top-priority project,” he said, staring down at me. “The part you are wrong about is thinking we’d throw away the life of one of our own people just to see our purpose accomplished. I know Dameron picked you because he thought you had a much better than even chance of surviving this mess; I also know he’ll want to hear my reasons for thinking you won’t survive. Want to bet he will love me forever?”
He stared at me for a minute after that, giving me a chance to make the sucker bet if I was foolish enough to do so, but I knew better than to waste the effort. The Absari base commander would side with him, not with me. After the minute he unfolded his arms and began to turn away again, but I couldn’t let him go through with it.
“Grigon, don’t call Dameron,” I sighed, giving up my previous attempts to buffalo him. “You don’t have to tell me he’ll cancel the project. I know he will.”
“Don’t you think he should?” the man called Grigon asked, his tone more reasonable than argumentative. “I can’t imagine what could have gone wrong with the impression, but it’s bound to make your role five times more difficult, if not downright impossible. Your wanting to go with it tells me you’re probably a suicide buff.”
“Sorry, but suicide’s not my thing,” I denied, shifting that stupid cape to my other arm. “I’m on the inside with this problem, and I’m telling you that it honestly doesn’t feel as terrible as you’re describing it. I’ve never walked away from an assignment already committed to in my entire career, not unless there were reasons a lot more compelling than some stray thoughts in my head. Just how positive are you that your guess is better than mine?”
He hesitated visibly then, considering my question, but logic was on my side. No one can be an expert on something that’s never happened before, and Grigon couldn’t pretend that he was.
“I can’t possibly be positive, and you know it,” he said, ending the brief pause, annoyance back in his voice and eyes. “What makes you so sure that you have the way of it? If you find out I’m right with your last living thought, do you intend sending your spirit back to let me say I told you so? I won’t find it nearly as satisfying as you seem to think I will.”