Chapter 21

The Heffers we had obtained were worthy beasts, and we made reasonably good time with them. I was still not pleased over the fact that the weather had not become as temperate as we had hoped, but it wasn't as if I had any choice in dealing with it. Other than the weather, things went fairly smoothly.

We did the best we could in our journey to draw no attention to ourselves, and for the most part we were successful. Entipy cut her hair reasonably short so that, at first glance, she would appear somewhat boyish. We then did all that we could to make certain that no one gave us a second glance. We made eye contact with no one and, when addressed by other travelers, would mutter several indecipherable words to give the impression that we didn't speak any tongue known to civilized man. It was enough to encourage people not to bother with us.

At night we would pick extremely busy inns to stay in. The money that Astel had provided us proved to be more than sufficient to get us quite nice lodgings. Not only that, but it was enough for Entipy and I to have a room each to ourselves, and that much was an extreme relief indeed. You see, I couldn't help but get the feeling that Entipy was becoming more and more attached to me, and that was a circumstance that simply was not going to benefit anyone.

And yet, much as I am loath to admit it, I found her increasingly easy to talk to. The first thing to make conversation livable was that she had stopped mentioning Tacit with every other breath. At this point she had stopped mentioning him at all. She had totally lost faith in him, and that was not surprising. When one is put on as high a pedestal as Tacit was, one makes a very loud thud when one falls off it. The second thing was that she seemed to want to find out all about me. She found me interesting. I was not, she said, like any other squire or even knight that she had ever encountered before. I'd wager she was right.

For obvious reasons, I wasn't about to tell her chapter and verse about my life. There were certain aspects that were far better kept close to my vest. So the specific circumstances of my conception, for instance, were omitted. I did tell her of my mother's sense that I had a great destiny, and I further mentioned to her the immortal phoenix bird incident my mother had described so often from her pre-Apropos days. Entipy's eyes widened at that point in the recitation. "So she saw one even before you were born! That's impressive. You might have even greater auguries for your future than . . ."

She stopped. I knew that she had been about to say "Tacit," but she stopped herself before mentioning the name. Instead all she said was "Go on."

I described the brutality of her death and the circumstances which had resulted in my coming to Runcible's castle. One of the things that I discovered Entipy liked to do was speak contemptuously of those who weren't there, and I was able to give her plenty of fodder for it. She was lukewarm on Sir Justus, despised Sir Coreolis ("He's not at all trustworthy," she said several times), and almost oozed disdain for all of the squires . . . particularly the selfabsorbed Mace Morningstar.

She didn't seem to have much use for her parents, either. She seemed to find the queen tolerable if naught else, but she had no patience for the king at all. "He's a sham. I know he is," she said with a snort. She wouldn't go into detail about how she knew this. Apparently she felt that details and facts were unnecessary. If she said it, it had to be so. End of discussion.

Day became night, which became day and on into the night again. On the third day, after she'd found yet another triviality to complain about, I asked her point-blank. I said, "Is there anyone or anything in this world that doesn't upset you? That brings you pleasure?"

I had a feeling that she was going to bring up Tacit, but instead she surprised me. "I like sunrises. They make anything seem possible," she said.

I blinked in surprise. "I've always felt the same way," I said.

"Well, of course," she said matter-of-factly. "I mean, even you, squire, can't be wrong all the time." It was typical of the snide and arrogant comments she had made to me when we'd first met, but she said it without any heat or vituperation. I caught her eye as I looked at her with open curiosity . . . and she winked at me.

That wink said more than anything else thus far, and once again I felt apprehensive.

My ambition was at total war with my common sense. I had, after all, seen the "real" Entipy: the sullen, arrogant, somewhat dangerous young woman whom we had picked up from the Faith Women. And Mace Morningstar had likewise seen her . . . and almost got his skull cracked for his efforts. Whatever I was seeing now was some new, flirting creature that had been applied to the surface like a cake of mud that some women believed removed wrinkles. She was not remotely genuine. Let us say, as a matter of insane speculation, that we wound up together. Sooner or later the demented Entipy would return, and I would be stuck with the creature for the rest of my life . . . which would probably be foreshortened as a result.

Except . . .

. . . how did I know that? Really? What if . . . what if the Entipy that I had seen before . . . was the "impostor"? That the one I was seeing now was real? What if she really was as easy to talk to as she now seemed? What if . . .

Gods. What if she really was my ticket to everything?

Just imagine it. Just imagine the faces on the knights, on Morningstar, on all of them, if the king announced that the princess had affianced herself to Apropos. Imagine the sputtered indignation from Justus and Coreolis and the rest. Imagine the look of pure horror from Morningstar and his ilk, knowing that I would eventually be in a position where they would have to bend knee to me, attend my commands, go where I told them they had to go. The joys of honor and obedience: I could instruct Morningstar to strip naked and ride into combat single-handedly against the dreaded Warlord Shank . . .

. . . and he'd have to do it!

"Apropos, why are you smiling in that slightly demented way?" Entipy asked, bringing me back to reality.

A steady chill wind was blowing against our faces, the Heffers treading along the path as best they could against it. We'd been on the road for some days. I glanced at her as she spoke and, pulling my thoughts back to focus, said coolly, "Just imagining the joy on your parents' faces when I bring you back, Highness."

"They never liked me, you know," she said with sullen petulance. "If they had, they'd never have sent me away."

"All parents have to do what they think is best for their child."

"Would you have done it?" There was both curiosity and challenge in her voice.

The easy, facile answer would have been to say no, protesting that she was much too charming to do such a thing. But she'd see right through that, and it had suddenly become of great interest to me to court the princess's genuine affections. Whenever my resolve wavered from that, I'd picture the helpless Morningstar riding into battle and that would help me back onto the correct path.

"You are speaking to one," I said slowly, "who never knew the normal trappings of father and mother. My father, as you know, died before I was born" (the story that I had given her to cover the truth of my origins) "and my mother worked such long and hard hours that she rarely was able to give me any attention. And then she was taken from me. Because of that, I would never want to—in any respect—deprive any child of mine of the immediacy and relationships that I was never able to have. So, no, I would not send you away. Perhaps that makes me selfish . . ."

"No, no, not at all. It makes you a good father."

"It reflects my own upbringing, is all. Frequently, Highness, that's all one sees in one's parents: how they themselves were raised. For all you know, your father and mother were likewise sent away, or by other means kept distanced from their parents. For them, what they did was simple normal behavior. On that basis, it would be no more fair to condemn them for their actions than it would to accuse a bear of laziness because it sleeps away the winter. It simply does what comes naturally."

She nodded thoughtfully, processing the notions. I, in the meantime, continued to let my common sense war with my ambition . . .

"Apropos . . ." and she reached over and took my hand, reining her Heffer to a stop. "Thank you. Maybe you're right. Maybe . . . you're actually providing a reason for me not to hate my parents. And that's not a bad thing to have at all."

I squeezed her hand tightly, returning the gesture . . .

. . . and she started to pull me toward her, clearly intending to kiss me.

And as I was faced with this outward, physical display of her affection, an entirely new dynamic entered my mind. I automatically flinched back, and she knew it. I saw the disappointment, the surprise, and even the faintest flutter of anger in her eyes.

The problem was, I knew where it was going to lead. One kiss becomes a second, then a third and so on, and the next thing you know, clothes are everywhere and other parts of you are places they shouldn't be. Places where, I was reasonably sure, Tacit had already been.

That's what it came down to, really. It had taken me a while to realize it, but that was the truth of it. If matters went in that direction, if we became engaged, married, well . . . sooner or later, I'd have to make love to her. And if I made love to her . . . she would compare me to Tacit. It was only inevitable. And there was no question in my mind that, as in all things except the one time I caught him totally by surprise, I would come up short in measuring up . . . so to speak. She would hold me up against his performance, find me lacking, lose all respect for me . . .

None of which I could say to her, of course. But I had to say something, and fast, because I had a hurt and angry princess on my hands, and such a creature is wildly unpredictable. And here, entering a somewhat mountainous and potentially treacherous region of the Outer Lawless realm, I didn't need unpredictability at my side. It could get us both killed.

"Highness . . . as flattered as I am . . . it . . . it wouldn't be right."

"Why wouldn't it," she said, sounding quite icy.

"Because," I said, sounding as reasonable as I could, "anything you might be feeling for me, Princess . . . might be from the intensity of the moment. Unusual alliances, such as what we have forged, cause all sorts of emotions to become more . . . heightened . . . than they ordinarily would be. They give rise to feelings that would not be there if circumstances were more normal. For me to take advantage of what you might be feeling for me right now . . . it wouldn't be right. The impulses might not be genuine. Once we are to safety and you can think rationally . . . then we shall see what's what. I wouldn't want to risk taking advantage of you . . ." and then, as a masterstroke of inspiration, I added, "as others may have, finding you vulnerable and saddened."

A direct hit. A perfect score. Her eyes widened and she nodded in understanding, and I knew exactly what was going through her mind because I, Apropos, master of subtlety, had planted it there. She was starting to wonder whether her involvement with Tacit had truly been the grand romantic adventure she had thought it was . . . or whether he was simply taking advantage of her. And if he was . . . while here, Apropos was refusing to do so . . . how noble did that make Apropos, and how much of a cad did that make Tacit? Apropos, who had been here and come through for her, and Tacit who hadn't? My mind soared with joy.

And that was when it hit me.

It wasn't anything bad, actually; in fact, it was very surprising. It was a gust of warm air, so unexpected and so out of place that its sudden appearance struck me almost like the blow of a hammer.

What was even the more surprising was that the general area we were in was somewhat colder than before, probably because the road was going on a steady upward slope, which meant we were going higher, where altitude was less and the air was chillier. In the near distance I could see mountain peaks, thick with snow. So a sudden gust of warm air truly seemed to come from nowhere.

I pulled out the map that Dotty had provided us. The fortress at Terracote truly didn't seem all that far . . . another few days at most. However, it was going to become more difficult before it became easier, because I saw more mountains dotting the path. They seem to be fairly low by comparison to others on the same map, but it still was going to be an effort. So I certainly didn't want us to become distracted by things that were off the path.

Yet that was what was happening, because Entipy felt the same gusting warmth that I did. "Is it from a spring, do you think?" she asked. "Or some sort of sulfur caves?"

"For all I know they left the door to hell ajar. Whatever it is, it's none of our concern." Even as I spoke, though, I felt another wafting of warm air and, more, the whiff of lilacs. I hadn't a clue to what was going on.

The Heffers, though, did not seem pleased. They whinnied uncertainly, and mine started to back up slightly.

Entipy, however, would have none of it. "I want to see what's causing that. If it's a warmer path than through the mountains, we should take it."

I looked at the wall of trees which was lining the edge of the road. There were no leaves upon them, but instead thick green needles . . . not sharp, but enough so that we couldn't have a clear vision of what lay past them. "There's no path here to take," I said in what I hoped was my most reasonable manner.

She didn't reply. Instead she dug her heels into the sides of the Heffer and urged it off the road. "Princess!" I said in annoyance, but she ignored me. The Heffer made one more noise of protest and then reluctantly went where it was led.

My own Heffer angled its head around at me and seemed to look me in the eyes as if to say, You're not thinking about going in there, too, are you? But I had no real choice. I couldn't let the little fool just wander off by herself. So with a resigned sigh I snapped the reins and guided my own beast off the path as well.

Fortunately enough, Heffers were even more surefooted than ordinary horses, so I wasn't all that concerned about riding one off the beaten path. I would not have essayed a gallop, of course, because that would likely have resulted in a broken leg in short order.

At first their hooves crunched through the thin layer of ice and snow on the ground, but then I realized that the crunching noise had stopped. The reason was quickly obvious: The ice was gone. The air was getting warmer the farther we went. A few minutes ago there had been mist coming out of our mouths when we spoke, but now there was nothing. And the aroma of lilacs was becoming stronger than ever.

Entipy kept glancing at me, clearly puzzled, apparently hoping that I would come up with an explanation. But I just shook my head, as bemused as she was.

The going was becoming increasingly easy, the trees thinning out. It was as if we were literally crossing seasonal lines, traveling directly from winter into spring, with summer a few yards ahead. The Heffers, however, were becoming increasingly agitated. They slowed to a crawl, and all the rein snapping on both of our parts was not getting them to move any faster. "What's wrong with them!" Entipy demanded in frustration. "Stupid animals! Don't they want to go where it's warm?" And she dug her heels into the belly of her Heffer, who didn't seem particularly pleased by the gesture.

"I'm getting the impression they don't," I said, "and I'm starting to wonder if they know something we don't."

"How could they? They're just dumb animals."

"Animals can sometimes sense problems before humans. I think we'd better go back."

"Why?"

"Because my horse isn't going forward."

And it was true. The Heffer had come to a complete halt. No matter how much I urged it to do so, it wasn't budging. As a matter of fact, it was trying to back up. Entipy was in the same bind, her horse not moving an inch. Not taking to this particular development in the least, Entipy dismounted, grabbed up the reins, and tried to pull the horse forward. She shouted at it, informing the horse just exactly who she was and precisely the kind of trouble it was going to get in if it ignored the royal decrees of a princess.

The Heffer suddenly let out an ear-curdling cry of protest and reared up, thrashing the air with its front hooves. That was about all the warning I had before my horse did likewise. Unlike Entipy, however, I was still on its back. I tried to hold on, but I had no chance, and I tumbled backward off the horse. As I fell I snagged the saddlebag, more for the purpose of trying to hold on than anything else, but the saddlebag tore free and went with me to the ground. "Stop them!" Entipy shouted, as if I were remotely in any sort of position to impose my will on two bucking horses. I lay stunned on the forest floor, and suddenly I saw the Heffer's hooves pounding straight toward my head. Sheer panic galvanized me and I rolled out of the way just as the beast pounded past me. Its associate followed directly behind it, ignoring the princess's shouted curses and threats.

"What's got into them?!" she cried out. She looked down at me as I lay there, gasping at how close I had just come to being a splotch on their hooves. "Are you all right?" she inquired, sounding vaguely solicitous.

"Ohhh . . . fine," I managed to say. I sat up slowly and looked behind us. There was already no sign of the horses. "Wonderful," I muttered, and then turned just in time to see Entipy heading not back after the Heffers but forward toward whatever the hell had just sent them dashing in the other direction. "Are you daft?!" I called after her. "Where do you think you're going!"

"I want to see what caused them to run off," she replied. "If we're going to lose the horses over it . . ."

"We're not going to lose anything of the kind," I protested, using a tree to pull myself up. I picked up the saddlebag, breathing a sigh of relief; the majority of the riches I'd taken from Astel were in there. I redid the straps and tied it off around my waist. Between the jewels and the sword I still had strapped to my back, I was getting a bit loaded down. "We'll go back out to the road. They're probably waiting for us there."

"Or they've run away. Besides, I want to see what's up there."

"No, you don't, and I'm going back for the horses."

"Fine. You do that." And without another word she turned on her heel and set out in the opposite direction from where I wanted to go.

I muttered a string of profanities under my breath as I started to head back to the road. I got about twenty feet and then envisioned what it would be like to face King Runcible at the fort and inform him that the last time I'd seen his little girl, she'd stomped off on her own into a forest and I'd done nothing to stop her. Immediately after that, the next thing I'd likely see would be a headsman's axe. With a moan I turned around and started off after Entipy.

She wasn't difficult to follow, leaving a trail that a blind man could track. The warmth had evened off, fortunately, because if it had kept up, the weather around me would have become positively scalding. "Entipy!" I called up ahead, hoping to get her to slow down since, even moving as fast as I could, my lame leg was slowing me up. "Entipy! Get back here! This is madness!"

I saw Entipy just ahead, standing on what appeared to be a ridge. Apparently there was a valley of some sort just ahead. "Entipy!" I called to her. "Enough games! Enough foolishness! It's time to—!"

She turned to look at me, and I stopped where I was, taken aback at the sheer wonderment in her eyes. It wasn't me she was reacting to, that was for sure. She saw something in the valley ahead that had completely stunned her. Cautious and uncertain, I made my way up the narrow incline until I was by her side, and then looked where she was looking, the smell of lilacs so thick in my nostrils that it was almost suffocating.

I gasped. You would have, too.

Unicorns.

Not a couple. Not a handful. A herd.

In the near distance, snow-covered mountains towered. But here, in this valley, it was spring, and would always be so for as long as the unicorns chose to graze there. There was an endless supply of food for them to consume, because the grass continued to grow at an amazing rate. It was impossible to tell how long they had been there—a day, an age. To such creatures, time truly had little meaning.

They were not entirely what I had expected, not precisely what I had seen as depicted in tapestries. They were, for one thing, smaller. Not a one of them was much larger than a pony. Yet there were so many of them at that size that I could only conclude that that was how big they got at maturity, rather than that we had stumbled upon a herd of young ones. Some of them were white, yes, but there were others who were deep brown, and some that were—incredibly—green. Green that was as green as the forest. I thought of the times when I would be in the Elderwoods and think that I'd seen something move, just out of the corner of my eye, but when I'd looked straight on I'd seen nothing. Perhaps the "nothing" I had seen had been a unicorn standing against a bush and blending in perfectly.

The fabled horns were not quite as long and pointed as I would have thought; they were shorter and curved upward, appearing more like tusks than horns. Their second most noticeable feature was their tails, which were long, thin, and almost snake-like, a small tuft of hair at the end. And they were shaggy beasts. Their manes were long and unkempt, and their fetlocks were thick to the point of almost being furry. However, I quickly noticed something, and that was that the manes and fetlocks seemed to be glittering as the sun hit them. Sparkling, even, in a rainbow of colors that made it seem as if the light was dancing along them. And their eyes . . . their eyes were the deepest blue I had ever seen. Such blue that I could have stared at it for hours, forever. Such blue that it hurt to look away, even for an instant.

As scruffy as the creatures appeared on the outside, they seemed to glow from within. I understood why someone weaving a tapestry would depict them in such a manner; it was because it was a rendering of the glorious souls these animals possessed. I knew that I was going to start crying as soon as I walked away from them, which I would obviously have to do eventually. I could not, after all, live among them. Although even that seemed possible at the moment. Anything did.

"Gods," I whispered because, really, what else could one say?

Entipy was looking at me with wonder. "It's because of you," she said.

"Me?" I had no idea what she was talking about. In fact, it took effort for me to force my attention back to the fact that she was there at all. "What's because of me?"

"In all my life," she said in wonderment, "I've never seen a single magical beast. Not a one. I've read about them, thought about them. But never seen one. Then along comes Apropos, whose mother witnessed an omen of a phoenix. Here you come, riding on the back of one, just as it was shown in the tapestry back at my home. And now I come upon more glorious creatures while in your company. There's something about you that intertwines your fate with such animals."

I didn't bother to point out that I tried to head away from the creatures, not toward them. She was so caught up in the magic of the moment that she was already reordering events to suit the new worldview. Fine. Let her. If it was going to benefit me, I wasn't about to argue. "I suppose anything is possible," I said.

I glanced over my shoulder to see if there was any remaining sign of the Heffers. Nothing. I hoped my guess was right and they had decided to wait for us by the side of the road. I turned back to Entipy.

She wasn't there.

My heart leaped up into my throat, for I could see the top of Entipy's head disappearing beyond the edge of the rise. She was climbing down into the valley where the unicorns were grazing. "Princessssss!" I hissed. "Get back here!"

Either she didn't hear me or she simply acted as if she didn't hear me, but in either event she dropped from sight. Immediately I scrambled to the edge of the rise and looked down. She had already reached the bottom; it was only about ten feet down, and on an incline rather than a straight drop, so it had been no great challenge for her to get down there. "Entipy!" I called to her again in a desperate low voice. She looked up at me, her eyebrows knit, as if she couldn't possibly figure out what I might want to talk to her about. "Get back up here!"

She put her hands on her hips and said with obvious impatience, "How am I going to be able to ride a unicorn if I stay up there?"

I felt a pounding starting in my temple that I had become all too familiar with since making the princess's acquaintance. "Are you insane!" I demanded, already knowing the answer. She did not bother to make a response, instead simply walked away from me with a shrug of her shoulders as if I was not worth a moment of her time.

I had no choice. I swung my legs over the edge of the rise and slid down as quickly as I could. Dirt and small pebbles tumbled around me and I halted my fall using my lame right leg because the last thing I wanted to do was risk damaging the good left one. I used my staff to haul myself up and made off quickly after her. She was approaching the herd with a bold stride, her chin upraised and her eyes sparkling with excitement.

"Princess," I said with a desperate urgency that I did not remotely have to fake. "Princess, this is ill advised. Unicorns or not, they remain wild animals, and such creatures tend to be rather territorial. A stranger marching into their midst—"

"I am no stranger," she said airily. "I am a princess of the blood royal. My place in the world of the unicorn is assured." She slowed ever so slightly to allow me to catch up. "We are going to do something that will be the stuff of legends, squire."

"We will?" I liked the sound of this less and less.

"Yes. I am going to find us the right unicorn. And I will mount it and ride it straight to Fort Terracote. It will carry me there on its pure white back—white, Apropos, it has to be white. None of these brown or green ones."

"So noted. Entipy—"

"And it will hold its beautiful head high, and its horn will glow," she continued, caught up in her fantasy. "And all will see me coming, and my father will feel ashamed that he ever thought to send me away."

"That's a charming scenario." We were drawing uncomfortably close to the herd. Some of the unicorns were taking note of us, their tails whipping around in what I feared was agitation. "Now allow me to offer an alternative: You walk up to a unicorn, try to exercise your influence, and the skittish animal runs you through with its horn."

"That could never happen. Unicorn horns have the power to cure."

"So I hear . . . provided you grind them up and use them properly. Having neither a grinder nor knowledge of proper procedures, I'd rather not take my chances."

"You are a squire, Apropos. If you are ever to become Sir Apropos, you will have to learn to take chances."

"Not with the life of the princess," I said tautly. Which was true enough. I reached for her, ready to sling her over my shoulder and haul her out of there if necessary, but she increased her speed and dodged my efforts. She even let out a curt laugh, as if the entire thing were a game. "These things are unpredictable, Entipy!" I reminded her. "They could kill you . . . !"

"To die . . . at the hooves or horns of creatures as beautiful as these . . ." Her eyes widened at the exciting thought. "How glorious would that be?"

Such words as these did nothing to lighten my mood. There was nothing romantic about suicide, and that's where I was worried this was going. "Not as glorious as living to tell people what we witnessed here today. Let's go, now. N—"

"Apropos," she said, her voice firm, "I'm going to do this."

"But you have to be a—" I stopped.

She looked at me, curious. "I have to be a what?"

I licked my lips, my voice suddenly feeling very raspy. "Well . . . you have to be . . . you know . . ."

"No, I don't know." I wondered if she was going to make me say it just to watch me be uncomfortable.

Taking a deep breath, I said, "Well . . . you know . . . a virg . . . a virg . . ."

"Virgin?" There was thick sarcasm in her voice. "Number one, that is an old wives' tale. And number two . . . what are you implying?"

"I'm not implying anything."

"Yes, you are. You're saying I'm not a virgin."

"No, I'm not." I was trying to cover as fast as I could. "I was just, uhm . . . reminding you that you had to be one."

"Why would you have to remind me of that? If you believed me to be one, then you would think that my status would guarantee safe passage. The only possible reason you would feel the need to bring it up is a belief that I am not. And I am, frankly, a bit insulted."

"I'm just suggesting caution, that's all. I—"

"You think I can't do it." There was rising ire in her voice. I felt as if the ground around me were turning to sand, sucking me down, even though it was beautiful and green and harmless. "You think I'm not a virgin and that I'm not up to the challenge. Well, I'll show you . . ."

"You don't have to show me anything!"

Obviously, though, she felt she did, because she quickened her pace all the more. She was making a beeline toward one particular unicorn. She certainly had picked out a remarkable-looking one. It was indeed purest white, and the sparkles in its mane almost made it look as if light was pouring out from the creature's immortal soul. It was watching her with those soulful eyes. I wondered how many sights the unicorn had seen in its lifetime, how many foolish maidens had tried to approach it. It tilted its head slightly, watching Entipy as if she were a mad little thing . . . which she was.

She slowed ever so slightly as she drew near. The unicorn took a step back and gave a faint, musical whinny that sounded more than anything like a warning. It had not lowered its horn as if to charge, but it certainly didn't seem enthused about seeing her. Entipy was making soft "chuk chuk" noises as she got within range of the beast. I noticed that Entipy and the one unicorn were not exactly operating independently of the rest of the world. Every unicorn in the vicinity was now watching the scenario play out. I wondered how they were going to react if it didn't play out in a manner to their liking.

"Hellooooo," said Entipy softly. She kept both her hands flat and open, palms up, so that the unicorn could see for itself that she was unarmed. "Apropos . . . what do you think it is? A girl or a boy?"

"Neither. It's a damned horse, and I mislike this whole thing. It stinks of magic and I'd sooner we were anywhere but here."

"We will be, I told you. We're going to ride them to Terracote."

Now that I was a bit closer (already closer than I liked) I could see that there was even hair on the horns themselves. It was such a light color as to be almost invisible, but it was there nevertheless.

I was getting a very uneasy feeling about the entire business, because a number of the unicorns were looking at me, or at least it seemed as if they were. All I could dwell upon at that point was Tacit's saying that he had been raised by unicorns. What if he'd been telling the truth? Not only that . . . but what if it had been these unicorns? What if one of them had actually suckled him? What if . . . what if they knew what I had done?

I could feel those stormy blue eyes burrowing into me, and the more I wanted to clear my mind of my assaulting Tacit, the more it seemed to rise to the forefront. Could they read minds? Smell guilt feelings? I had no way of knowing; these were magical creatures, to be sure. They were capable of just about anything.

"Entipy," I said slowly, not taking my eyes off the great beasts who were not taking their eyes off me, "these are not captive show creatures in a traveling circus. These are wild animals, out in the wild. We are on their turf, in a very uncontrolled situation, and anything can happen. And a goodly number of those anythings would be counterproductive to our continued health."

She wasn't listening. Part of me was hoping that one of them would just run her through and get it over with. The suspense was killing me. She was almost up to the unicorn that she had selected for the questionable honor of being her mount. The horse wasn't backing up at that point. Why should it be? It had a sizable number of friends to serve as support against a single unarmed girl. Entipy was continuing to make those clucking noises, causing her to sound like an overlarge chicken, interspersed with such useful comments as "Here, unicorn. Nice unicorn. Pretty pretty unicorn."

Then, with an extremely credible display of horsemanship, Entipy snagged a handful of the unicorn's mane and swung herself expertly onto its back before it could offer protest. She straddled it, looked triumphantly over at me, and started to call out "See?!" right before the unicorn threw her into the air.

I should have let her just hit the ground. It might have jolted some sense into her. Instead I stupidly bolted toward her and lunged for her. She crashed into me, sending us both to the ground in a tangle of arms and legs. I felt a soreness in my chest and fingered my ribs, hoping that the impact hadn't broken one.

"I'm all right! I'm all right!" Entipy said, disentangling herself from me.

"I don't care!" I shot back grumpily, sitting up. "That was a damned fool thing to do."

"I am a princess," she said haughtily. "I do what I like."

"If what you 'like' is to get your fool neck broken, keep right on doing it because you were well on your way. You'd probably have done it by now if I hadn't caught you."

She regarded me thoughtfully and crouched beside me. Her face softened. "Yes. You did, didn't you. That was sweet."

The smell of lilacs was making me feel light-headed. I wondered if it was having the same effect on her. Then, before I could stop her, she wrapped an arm around the back of my head and kissed me passionately. I felt myself being carried away by the moment, and I returned the kiss with passion of my own, taking her into my arms. I felt giddy, intoxicated. For just a moment, all my concerns about her being unpredictable and untrustworthy faded away, and I felt something deep and profound within me . . . as if, impossibly, in this hard and cynical world, I had found a genuine soul mate. A part of myself I didn't even know I was missing. All that from one ardor-charged kiss.

The unicorn let out a whinny, and it was not musical, and it was not alone, because the lot of them chorused in.

We broke off and I looked at them, my eyes wide with alarm. I could no longer make out which unicorn had been the one that Entipy had been endeavoring to mount, because they were now clustered together. More and more of them were coming in from all sides, advancing. Their tails were no longer swishing back and forth in leisurely fashion. Instead they were straight back or straight down, tense and quivering with what I could only interpret as rage.

Oh, gods, they do know, the frantic thought went through my head. They know what I did . . . they know that I shouldn't be here. Unicorns were, as noted, magical. They were true creatures of destiny and, therefore, must have had some clear idea of how destiny was to be shaped. And here came I, Apropos, who had usurped the rightful place of the unicorn-bred hero of the story, flaunting that craven triumph in their faces. Little wonder they weren't exactly happy with me at that moment.

Entipy didn't understand any of that. "It was just a kiss, you horned prudes!" she said in irritation as we got to our feet. "He saved me! He's . . ." Caught up in the moment, she took my hand in hers. "He's my hero."

And then went up a sound of pure fury such as I'd never heard and hope never to hear again. The sea of white was advancing on us like a great wave. I looked in the direction from which we'd come, but we were cut off, the herd having moved across it. It seemed that every single unicorn in the herd had now made us the complete and undivided focus of their attention.

From directly behind us I felt a gust of cold air. It was an area more toward the mountain passes, bereft of grass, and so the unicorns had focused their energies, or charms, or whatever you would call it on that particular piece of land. The path to it seemed clear, which was fortunate, because if we'd been surrounded on all sides we wouldn't have had a prayer. As it was, I wasn't giving our chances great odds.

Even Entipy was now fully aware that we were in serious trouble. Those blue eyes of the unicorns, as beautiful as they'd been to look at while they were relaxed, were terrifying to see in anger. Entipy's gaze was riveted by them, and all her high-flown words about what it would be like to die at the hooves of the mythic beasts flew right away. "I think . . . we'd better leave," she said slowly.

I was already backing up, not removing my gaze from them. "I couldn't agree more. On the count of three—"

"No," she said sharply. "Don't run."

She put an arm around my waist. This gesture seemed to incense the closest unicorns, and they actually reared up and pawed the ground.

"I think they want us out of here as quickly as possible," I told her.

"I read in a book about unicorns: Never run from anything immortal. It attracts their attention."

"We've already got their damned attention."

"Just . . . do as I do." She took a deep breath to steady herself and then turned her back to the unicorns and proceeded to walk in a calm, unhurried manner. As much as I wanted to bolt, I couldn't bring myself to flee and leave her behind. Besides, with my lame leg, I don't know how fast I could have gone anyway.

So I walked next to her, maintaining as much dignity as I could. The way ahead of us, toward the mountains, remained clear. The herd had converged behind us, apparently not trying to cut us off from departing. We weren't going the way I wanted to go, unfortunately. We were leaving the road behind, heading toward a far more hazardous path, but I didn't see much choice. Still, we weren't completely out of options. We might be able to double back around the unicorn grazing area. And, at the very least, I had the map, so I might be able to locate us again provided I could find a decent landmark.

One step after another, and even though we weren't looking at them, I could sense the eyes of every one of the beasts upon us. But at least it seemed that they were going to let us go. I thanked the gods for that, and even began to chide myself that I'd let my imagination run was wild as I had. Thinking that somehow they were able to read my mind and know what I had done to their favorite son. It was, really, the height of absurdity to attribute that much insight to dumb animals, magical or no.

"That," I breathed, once I started to feel that we were a safe distance, "was close. Good advice there, about the walking."

"Thank you for trusting me," she said. "I know it's not easy for you to trust anyone. I'm honored."

"You're welcome."

"And by the way . . . you kiss very well."

And she reached over and actually grabbed my ass, giving it an affectionate squeeze and causing me to jump slightly.

The unicorns went berserk.

As one, an infuriated bellow was ripped from their collective throats like damned souls in hell. Our heads whipped around just in time to see that the lot of them had lowered their horns, and they were charging.

Obviously, they'd noticed us.

"Run!" I screamed. Suddenly all the lameness of my leg was completely forgotten as Entipy and I bolted. The unicorns were a fair distance behind us, but they were closing the gap rapidly as we ran as fast as we could down the mountain pass. The incline was sharp, the footing uncertain, but the need to flee was great. Entipy was clutching my free hand tightly as I used the staff as never before to propel me along.

The ground rumbled beneath the pounding hooves of the unicorns, and we ran like mad. We ran as if our lives depended upon it, which they most certainly did, because the unicorns were not stopping, and if they caught up with us, we would be pulp beneath their hooves in no time at all.

Part of me viewed the scene almost as if my spirit had left my body. I could see, in my mind's eye, the sea of white, with dots of brown and green, converging upon us and, in many ways, it was a thing of beauty. No, of joy. Creatures of myth, creatures of legend, creatures of power, moving as one, their manes shimmering, their hooves flashing. If one was able to see it perched safely atop a mountain, one would find oneself weeping in joy at being able to see such a sight.

As for me, I was weeping in terror. I could practically feel the horns running me through, the hooves trampling me. The ground trembled all the more, and Entipy and I took turns, her dragging me, me dragging her. "Run! Run!" I kept shouting unnecessarily. Entipy stumbled, her dress ripping, and I yanked her to her feet as if she was weightless and kept going.

The unicorns were closing. We had no hope. For one wild moment I entertained the notion of trying to leap to one side or the other, to get out of the way of the stampede, but there was nowhere to go. We were deep into the pass, the mountains looming on either side of us, the rock face too sheer for us to have any hope of getting away. Even the mountains themselves seemed to be trembling in fear as the unicorn herd descended upon us. And worst of all, they were bringing that same damned smell of lilacs with them. I was going to be gored and crushed while sniffing flowers. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry, and settled for shrieking in terror. It was a most unmanly sound and probably would have lost me Entipy's respect, had she been able to hear me over the deafening pounding.

That was when a huge chunk of ice and snow struck the ground directly in front of us. We dodged around it, and then another struck, and another, and we were leaping to one side and the other automatically, without thinking about what was happening. The thunder of the unicorns had not abated, and then more pieces of ice fell, and more, like a great rain, and then I thought, It can't be, because it sounded to me as if the stampede was slowing. I chanced a glance around and yes, it was true, it was gloriously true, the unicorns were breaking off their pursuit.

"We're saved!" cried out Entipy, who had seen the same thing.

Except . . .

. . . except the rumbling hadn't stopped.

. . . except it had . . . but had been replaced. What I was hearing and feeling now was not the concentrated thudding of hundreds of hooves. Instead it was something deeper, even more profound, as if we were trapped inside of a thunderhead. The rumbling was no longer originating from behind us; instead it was all around us, above, below, and the chunks of snow were getting bigger, one of them striking me a glancing blow.

I looked up.

The snow on the mountains was breaking loose, descending toward us at horrifying speed and velocity.

Instantly I realized what had happened. The pounding hooves of the unicorns had jarred loose the snow from the mountains. "Avalanche!" I shouted. Entipy looked up as well and gasped. There was nowhere to go but forward, and that we did as fast as we could.

It wasn't fast enough.

The snow came crashing down, filling in the gap between the mountains. A sea of white of a very different sort from the equine sea that had been pursuing us, but no less deadly.

The path ahead of us suddenly dropped off. We ran as fast as we could and then the snow caught up with us. The frosty tidal wave lifted us off the ground, tumbling all around us, and I held on to Entipy's hand for as long as I could, but then I was torn away from her. I heard her cry out my name once and then her voice was lost in the crashing of the snow.

Gods, how could this get any worse? I wondered, right before we hit the cliff.

I wasn't aware of it until I was over it, nor did I have any true picture of how high it was. All I knew was that suddenly there was no sense of solidity beneath me aside from the huge pieces of snow that were endeavoring to bury me. I thrashed at the air as if I could somehow use the airborne ice chunks as stepping-stones to keep me aloft, an endeavor which worked about as well as you can probably suspect. Amazingly, I managed to hold on to my staff, wrapping my arms around it, and it was raining snow all around me. I resolved never to wonder how things could get worse, and then I hit bottom—or whatever it was—so hard that it knocked all the breath out of me. That was unfortunate, because more snow piled on top of me from overhead. I curled up, bringing my arms over my head to try and afford me protection, and waited until the rumbling—which seemed to go on for an eternity—ceased.

I was entombed. Buried alive in white.

I had no definite idea which way was up or down, but I took a guess and started digging as fast and as frantically as I could. For all I knew, it was a futile endeavor. If I was under twelve feet of snow, there was no way I was going to be able to break surface before I suffocated. But that wasn't going to stop me from doing my damnedest to survive.

There was a small pocket of air around me, and I clawed for the surface, trying to dig my way through it. It was everything I could do not to let sheer panic overwhelm me. I knew that if that happened, I'd be finished. I'd thrash around so much that I'd use up my air before I even came close to escaping.

My fingers dug into the snow as I shoved and pushed, trying to burrow out. Right above me, the snow seemed so packed in that I couldn't get through it at all. I snapped open the bladed end of my staff and shoved it in, prying at it, jarring it loose. It fell in my face and there was more right above it, but at least it was loose enough that I could push it away and keep going.

My breath was coming in ragged gasps, my eyes filled with dirt and moisture so that I could barely see. My feet and hands were completely numb. I wasn't scooping or pushing the snow away at that point; I was clubbing it with fists that weren't feeling anything anymore. Once again I felt light-headed, but this time it wasn't from the scent of lilacs; it was from the scent of my own death. I was going to be buried alive there, and my body would never be found. Runcible's people would be sitting there in Terracote, waiting in futility. I wondered how long they would remain there before they gave us up for lost; before they decided that that bastard whore's son, Apropos of Nothing, had bungled the job of returning the "precious cargo" and my name was entered into the lists of the greatest failures in Isteria.

Had Entipy made it out? Had she survived somehow? Was she nearer to the surface, on top perhaps? Or was she buried even farther below? She could be within inches of me and I'd never know. So much I would never know. My life was going to end there, a series of questions with no answers . . .

The world was hazing out around me, my efforts to clamber upward becoming less and less emphatic. I tried to tell myself that I had to keep going. To make it for Entipy . . . for my mother's sake . . . for . . .

For yourself. That's the only thing that's really important to you. Don't try to pretend otherwise.

It was the voice of Sharee . . . the voice of the weaver whom I had rescued a lifetime ago . . . and she was right there next to me, in my mind's eye, looking at me with open scorn. That's really all it's been. You. You can fool others, but not me.

"Go away," I muttered between swollen lips as I kept pushing upward, if for no other reason than to get away from her.

Do you want some free advice?

"No."

She's not worth it, she went on as if I hadn't spoken—which, considering my state of mind at that point, I might actually not have done. The princess, I mean. She's going to bring you nothing but heartache. Trust me on that.

Trust a weaver. Fat chance.

If you get out of this, you head off and never look back. Carve out a new life for yourself. Stay away from knights. You were never meant for that life. Live within your reality, not your dreams.

"All I have are my dreams, because the reality is a nightmare."

Your reality is what you make it.

I moaned. Not only was I going to die, but I was going to die having to listen to homilies.

Her face was floating just above me. And another thing . . .

"Shut up," I growled in my delirium, and I shoved the frozen meat-and-bone thing called my fist through her face. It punched through the snow overhead . . .

. . . and touched nothing.

I couldn't believe it. My flesh was so numb, my mind so frozen, that it took a few moments for the significance of what I wasn't feeling to set in. The surface. The surface was just above me.

There was still no sensation in my legs, and yet somehow I managed to muster enough strength to push my way up and through the snow. It was like being born again as my head crunched through the hoary crust, and I gasped in great lungsful of air. I struggled like mad, throwing aside caution, pushing and shoving and clawing the rest of the way until I had pulled myself completely clear.

I looked up. The edge of the cliff we'd gone over looked hideously high. I couldn't believe I'd survived the fall.

Then I saw that the snow around me had a large area of red on it, and I wondered about the source of that until I touched my forehead and saw my hand come away stained with a dark red. The snow had actually benefited me as the chill had slowed the blood loss. Still, I felt dizzy, the world beginning to spin around me.

Then I saw her hand.

It was sticking out of the snow not three feet away.

She's not worth it, came Sharee's warning unbidden to me, but I ignored it and lunged for Entipy. I grabbed the hand; it felt frozen solid. For one moment I was actually worried that it might snap off the wrist. "Entipy! I'm up here! Don't you die on me! Don't do it!" I shouted, knowing that I might already be addressing a corpse. I had set my staff on the ground next to me and shoved aside the snow as frantically as I could. The towering mountains looked down upon us, uncaring of whether we lived or died.

I kept calling her name, trying to let her know that I was there, trying to get some sort of response out of her. She was giving me absolutely no help. If she wasn't dead, she was most certainly unconscious. Fortunately, the one benefit I had was that my arms were strong, almost tireless, especially with the goal so close. It took me seconds to clear away enough snow to expose her head and shoulders and then pull her clear of her snowy entombment.

Her eyes were closed, her face and clothes covered with frost, her skin slightly blue. She looked terrible, and I can only imagine how I must have looked. I shook her violently, trying to bring her to wakefulness. Nothing. I put my head to her chest, tried to hear some sign of a heartbeat. I thought I detected something faintly, but couldn't be sure. What I knew beyond question, though, was that she wasn't breathing.

"Breathe! Breathe!" I shouted at her. She didn't respond. I shook her again. Still nothing. I did the only thing I could think of: I opened her mouth, brought my lips down upon hers, and blew into her mouth. Her lips were frozen solid; it was like sucking on ice. I tried to keep my breath slow and steady, tried to simulate normal breathing. Her chest rose up and down, but not on its own. I kept going, despair clutching me and chilling me as thoroughly as the snow had. I lost track of how long I breathed into her mouth. I lost track of time . . . of myself . . . of everything . . . the world was swirling around me, and I fought desperately to hang on, to push back the blackness.

And I failed. Failed as I had at so many things in my life.

I slumped forward onto her body, unable to keep my mind functioning anymore. My head lay on her chest . . .

. . . and rose slightly . . .

. . . and settled down slightly . . . and rose again . . .

She was breathing.

Son of a bitch, I thought, right before I passed out.