CHAPTER 58
“Prince Dennis,” Conall said as he and Dalquin quickened their stride to keep up with the younger, taller man. “I don’t mean to intrude, but really I must know what has happened to my daughter.”
“Sir,” said Dennis, “she’s no longer here, through no will of my own. And Chester and I are going to get her back immediately.”
The youth knew he was being uncommunicative not so much because time was short, but because he didn’t want to tell Conall what had befallen the princess. Conall would blame Dennis—
And Dennis already blamed himself, whatever Chester or reason might say.
Even reason admitted that if Aria had never met a vagabond named Dennis, she wouldn’t be in the sea hag’s gullet now.
“Yes, but—” said Conall, looking about him in awkward concern. The cattle byres were clean, as everything in Rakastava was clean: but the warm, animal odor of cows still hung in the air.
“Open,” Dennis said to the wall. Direct sunlight drew wordless gasps from the two citizens of Rakastava, though Conall and Dalquin had seen the sun before.
Had seen the sun several times during their lives, in fact.
Dennis strode onto the cow path, knowing that Conall would not follow with his questioning.
“Do not be called, ‘the rude one’, Dennis,” Chester said, “because of your disregard for others.”
Dennis turned. “Sir,” he said, “I—”
His tongue touched his lips, and he remembered the salty taste of Aria’s blood. “I love your daughter. I will have her back from, from where she is. On my life, I promise you.”
He bowed, hoping the king didn’t realize that in Dennis’ mind, the forfeit of his life was at least as probable as the success he’d promised. His duty to courtesy done, Dennis and Chester continued down the trail.
Behind them, they heard Dalquin saying, “Now Dennis is a good lad and a brave one, sir. He’ll not let your daughter come to any harm.”
Around a corner of the path, Dennis shook his head sadly. If only he could be so confident.
“What if the sea hag stays deep in the sea, Chester?” he asked. “It doesn’t matter that we can—go to her through the mirror if we, if I drown before…”
“It is not to the sea hag that we will go, Dennis,” the robot replied calmly, “but to its life, which is on the Banned Island beyond the jaws of Emath Harbor.”
“You mean the hag will be on the Banned Island,” Dennis said, half in question as he tried to make sense of Chester’s words.
“The creature may be there and may not,” Chester explained with a note of exasperation. “But its life is on the island, and it will come to its life when you hold that in your hands.”
Dennis frowned. “Chester, how can the sea hag’s life be separate from her?” he asked.
“Because she is not really alive, Dennis.”
“That can’t be!” Dennis said with unintended firmness.
“Am I alive, Dennis?”
“Of course you are!”
“Then the sea hag is alive, Dennis; but her life is on the Banned Island.”
The pasture was bright and a friend to Dennis by now, all the things Rakastava was not. Some of the differences—the way the grass tickled and could cut; the insects that buzzed and sometimes stabbed; the excessive heat when the sun was full in the sky—were discomforts and bad from any logical standpoint, but…
But life wasn’t a sterile endeavor, and life wasn’t truly possible in an environment as sterile as that of Rakastava.
“We won’t stay in Rakastava,” Dennis said aloud. “In the city. We’ll go back to Emath or build a house in this pasture or something.”
“After you have slain the sea hag, Dennis,” Chester reminded. “And first, it is to Mother Grimes and not Malbawn’s mirror that we must go.”
Dennis loosened his sword in its scabbard. “She’s dead, isn’t she, Chester?” he asked, remembering the way his companion had let him enter Mother Grimes’ house unwarned—because he had not asked for advice as he should have done.
“She is dead, Dennis,” the robot agreed. “But her baton is there where you left it, and you will need it now.”