The other said, “Have you seen anyone on the road? Particularly a young woman? On foot or ahorse?”
“No,” said Garth, “but then, I’ve been asleep.”
“Well, merchant, get yourself packed up. We’re on our way north and we’ll escort you to the north pass.”
“I don’t want to trouble you, sir. And I’d like a bit of breakfast before starting out . . .”
“Pack yourself up, I say, and go hungry until you’re at the border. That is, unless you want to interfere with the orders of the Marshal . . .”
“And the Prince,” said the other voice. “Both of ’em are set on finding this young person, and to do it ex-pee-dishus-lee, we’re to clear the roads and keep them clear, all the way to the borders.”
“That’s it,” said the first man. “Consider yourself part of the clearance.”
“Of course, of course,” said Garth.
The lighter voice said, “Meantime, we’d best look around. Be sure this one’s alone.”
“Oh, he’s alone, right enough. One horse, one rider, one pack.”
“Can’t tell from that. He might be cleverer than he looks.”
“It’s you want to be cleverer. Go, waste your time, I don’t care.” Panting with dismay, Genevieve, wriggled back toward the grille, pulling bedding and belongings along with her. It was farther than she had thought, but she kept wriggling feet first, deeper into the recess expecting to encounter the grille with her feet. Suddenly she realized there was nothing beneath her lower legs, nothing her feet could find on any side, and as she started to ease her way back, her ankles were firmly grasped by someone or something, and before she could make up her mind whether screaming would be a good thing or a bad thing, she was pulled down the tunnel and out, like a cork from a bottle, while someone whispered fiercely in her ear, “Shhh. Don’t make a sound.”
Since the someone was busy gagging her, there was no significant sound she could make. Her bedding was pulled down on top of her, and the saddle and pack on top of that, and she heard the unmistakable sound of metal being latched.
“There,” said the voice in her ear, “the grille’s locked! Even if they find the cave, they won’t find you, not if you hush and quit struggling.”
Genevieve reminded herself that she did not wish to be found by either the Marshal or the Prince, and stopped struggling.
Outside in the cave, someone bashed about. “Hey, Carton! Come see this!”
Other shouts, murmurs, finally the sound of someone approaching the grille. “It’s shut off back here! There’s a grille over it.”
“Probably an old mine shaft,” said the same voice that had accosted Garth.
“But it’s warm, Garton.”
“Thunkle, you’re an idiot, you know that. Of course it’s warm. There’s warm springs all over High Haven. The whole valley was a volcano once.”
“Oh,” said Thunkle. “I forgot.”
“Is it old? The grille?”
“It’s rusty.”
“Well, then. There’s nobody there, is there?”
“No.”
“Then come on. We’ve got this fellow to see to the border, and we don’t want to waste any more time.”
Sound receded. In the stillness, Genevieve felt herself carried, heaved, then dropped carelessly, her head crashing against an unyielding surface.
“Watch it,” cried a voice. “She’s not a sack of potatoes!”
“I tripped,” said someone else, sulkily.
Genevieve didn’t care. The blow had been the final insult, and she felt herself going away, somewhere else, into a buzzing darkness where there was nothing at all to think about.
When she regained any perception at all, it was of movement, her body being slowly jostled as she was moved by wheels. She could not move or speak, but she could see:
Dim light far up and gray. Massive things at either side. Darkness mostly.
She could hear:
At least two wheels on the cart squeaked slightly, dissonantly, like an insect chirp. Slow drip of water into a pool, each plunking drop making its own tiny echo, the ripples spreading, reaching the edges and returning to intersect the new plunk to make an interference of wavelets. Something peeping, a lizard, perhaps, signaling others of its kind.