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What did it matter, though? The Mein were a petty people who took pleasure in humiliating a race that generations had proven was superior. He could have his small amusements, and she would hold to spite. Spite and condescension. That was all she felt for him. Fortunately, their stay in the mountains was almost over. Cori
Strange, though, that when a servant next brought her a message from Hanish, she experienced a tingling in her chest and a quickening of her pulse that-had the situation been otherwise-she would have interpreted as exhilaration. He wished for her company that afternoon, the messenger said, to practice archery. He prayed that she would not leave him standing alone. That sounded like a fine idea, she thought. Leave him standing about, dejected, spurned. And yet she knew that would not work. Hanish was not easy to insult. He would find a way to playfully punish her for it at di
She found Hanish at the archery field. For once he was free of his entourage, accompanied only by a squire, who attended to the selection of bows, and by a boy, who stood some distance away in the heavy grass, waiting by the targets to retrieve arrows.
“Ah, Princess!” Hanish said, all smiles and merriment on seeing her. “I was starting to wonder… Come and teach me what you know. This is agentle sport, yes? I understand from the servants here that you were quite the archer as a girl.”
“I may have been once, but I’m neither an archer nor a girl anymore.”
He offered her a bow that the squire had just handed him. “Well, you are at least half right. I’ll judge the other.”
Cori
Plucking the missile from the squire’s hand, she nocked it, set it to rest, and lifted the bow to sight the target. She gripped the bow easily, her fingers settling in one after the other, her posture straight backed but easy, just as she had been instructed years before. She knew Hanish had paused to watch her. She did not care. She picked out a triangular target, one a little distance from where the boy stood. She drew her string hand back to her cheek, the arrow resting atop her fingers and the shaft a straight path out into the world. She loosed her fingers. The arrow flew. Vanished, it seemed. Only to appear a moment later, jutting from near the center of her chosen target.
Hanish exclaimed. He touched her arm and said something appraising to the squire, who affirmed the statement. Cori
The afternoon passed quickly. Hanish may have thought he moved time forward with his words and gestures, with questions and compliments, but Cori
“There’s a Candovian tale about an archer,” Hanish said. They had paused for a moment as the targets were cleared and rearranged. “I forget his name. He was reputed to have been the best shot in the land, deadly accurate under any condition. In those days the Candovians and Senivalians were at odds about the borders of their territories. At a meeting of the tribes meant to resolve the matter, a Senivalian challenged the archer to prove himself. Was it true, he taunted, that the archer could pit an olive from fifty paces? Of course it was, the Candovian said. The Senivalian challenged him to prove it, but the archer refused. He said that no olive had ever done him any offense. He said that he would be happy to shoot an eye out of a Senivalian from a hundred paces, though. He would only take the one eye, he promised. If he went even slightly out of the socket in question he would graciously relinquish all claims of prowess. Nobody took him up on this.”
A pair of crested birds flew over the trees and darted around the edge of the field, oblivious to all but each other. Cori
“There need not always be a point. Sometimes tales are intended for amusement. Do you know, Cori
“I’d not sell my merriment so lightly.”
Hanish gri
Cori
“Fu
She was not sure how to answer that. Would he deliver them pierced on a spit? Chained and bound? Or might she actually speak and be with them again? Might they share this strange captivity with her, as Hanish had always promised was his only intention? If they did, it would be a lot less like captivity. But she should not even imagine the possibility. She did not really believe in it. Hanish was mocking her. If she believed him, she would only be aiding him in another cruel joke. She had known since her mother’s illness and death that the world was not to be trusted. Loved persons were always stolen. Dreams always squashed. That was life as she understood it.
The boy still stood out in the field, but the squire walked back toward them, a quiver of retrieved arrows at hand. Cori
Hanish took his shot, not a good one. He lowered his bow, frowned. “It’s a porpoise. Not actually a fish, they tell me. Anyway, it’s the sign of the league. His name is Sire Dagon. He’s a senior leagueman. He answers only to Sire Revek, the chairman.”
Sire Dagon. Yes, that was his name. Cori
“We spoke about trade and commerce. That’s all the league traffics in.”
“Did they betray my father? Did they encourage you to attack us? Tell me, so next time I see Dagon I’ll know if I should spit as he passes.”
Hanish plucked up another arrow, aimed, and shot again. Better this time, close to the center of one of the farther targets. The boy cheered, raised a fist as if it were a personal triumph. Hanish ignored him. He answered Cori