Gazing at the Distant Lights, part 3

[tamcranver]

Part 1
Part 2



When she opened her eyes again, it took her a long minute to remember where she was. The cave was still dark, but a few shafts of light were visible from the path to the entrance, so she figured it had to be morning. It was the first night she’d ever spent in her life away from the protection of Patrick and Bob and the guards and a castle, so she had to stretch her stiff arms and revel in the sensation of being a free woman. She was in a cave with bandits, and sure, she’d have to go back sometime, but until then, anything could happen. She laughed.

“What’s so funny?”

Greta’s breath caught in her throat. In the shadows in the corner, Victoria was sitting, watching her. “I didn’t see you there,” she said.

Victoria didn’t answer. The cave was so dim, Greta could barely make out her features, and her hair blended into the dark shadows.

Greta suddenly felt gross and dirty and awkward, unwashed and still dressed in Amanda’s old, frayed clothing. She scrubbed a hand over her face and asked, “Where are the others?”

“They’re working,” said Victoria. “You were sleeping when they left. I usually go with them, but I didn’t want to leave you alone.”

Greta was surprised at how pleased she was by this unexpected show of kindness. “Thank you,” she said.

Victoria drew her lips together so tightly that even in the dark, Greta could see the skin around them go white. When she opened her mouth again, she said, “It wasn’t for your sake. I didn’t want to leave a stranger alone in our home. For all I know, you could just be waiting for an opportunity to tell the city guard about this place, or rob us.”

“Oh.” Greta’d never had someone think this badly of her before, and she found she really didn’t like it. “That’s a fine thing for a thief to say,” she said finally.

Victoria’s expression darkened. “Like you’re any better. If you’re going to eat our food and sleep in our home, don’t insult us.” She picked something up from the floor near her feet and walked over to Greta. When she got closer, Greta could see a plate with what looked like eggs and potatoes and slices of apple on it. “We saved some breakfast for you,” she said, sounding grudging about it.

Greta took it without thanking her—if Victoria was going to be rude, Greta could be rude right back. Her anger melted, though, at the first bite, and every bite after that improved her mood. The eggs were light and fluffy, the potatoes tender and full of flavor, and even the apple was crisp and tasted like summer to her. “This is delicious,” she said. “Did Alex make it?”

A reluctant smile tugged at the corner of Victoria’s mouth, and she said, “Yeah. He’s a pretty good cook, isn’t he?”

Greta nodded. He was. “Thanks for the food,” she said. She finished the rest in silence, and then wondered aloud, “So, am I your prisoner now or something?”

Victoria, who’d produced a bucket from her corner and was sipping from a battered tin ladle, spit out a mouthful of water. “What? Why on earth would you think that?”

“Well,” Greta said, feeling a bit sheepish, “that’s how it always happens in the tales. A maiden in need seeks aid from the bandits, and they help her, but they take her prisoner, because they need someone to, to wash their dishes or darn their socks or something.”

Victoria’s jaw dropped; she looked like she didn’t know whether to burst out laughing or slap Greta across the face. Her face was turning a dark red, and Greta wondered whether she’d have to defend herself with the plate. “Alex said you were sick in the head,” Victoria said finally. “Ryland and I thought you were probably running a con, and Nate didn’t know what to think, and God only knows what Gabe thinks, but Alex said you had to be crazy, or confused.” She shook her head. “I hate it when he’s right.”

“He’s not right,” said Greta, but she didn’t feel like fighting about it anymore. “I just…I don’t get out much.”

“Hmm.” Victoria scratched at her chin thoughtfully, and said, “I can understand that.” She peered searchingly at Greta, as if she were trying to see through her, and Greta did her best to return the favor. Victoria was a complete mystery to her, other than her totally unfounded dislike for Greta; maybe if Victoria saw whatever it was she wanted to see, she’d be willing to open up a bit more.

After a moment, though, her face closed off again, and she stood up. “Well. You’re not our prisoner. You can leave anytime you want. In fact, weren’t you supposed to be going home today?” she asked. “Something about a palace, I believe you said.”

Greta couldn’t hide her disappointment. “Well, yes, but not yet! I haven’t even seen the rest of your lair, yet!” How on earth could she go home and tell people she’d stayed in a bandits’ cave and only ever seen the front room of it?

“Our lair?” asked Victoria, her tone somewhere between scornful and skeptical. “Does everything you know come from fairy tales?”

Not everything she knew, of course, but a lot of the things she dreamed about. Greta kept quiet.

Victoria rolled her eyes. “No wonder you go around telling people you’re a princess. For fuck’s sake, life isn’t a fairy tale, you know?” She looked down her nose at Greta, and Greta thought she wouldn’t be a bad princess herself, just a snotty one. “If you’re going to be hanging around,” she said, “you might as well make yourself useful.” She handed Greta the bucket. “You refill the water vat, I’ll collect firewood.” She gestured towards a big, bulky shape in the corner where she’d been sitting.

Greta had never filled a water vat in her life. She supposed it couldn’t be too difficult, but…. “Where do you get the water?”

“From the spring,” said Victoria, looking as if she couldn’t even believe how stupid Greta was. “About a hundred yards to the west.” Greta felt her cheeks go hot.

“You don’t have to look at me like I’m stupid,” she said. “I’ve never been here before. For all I knew, you had a—a subterranean reservoir, or a well, or something.”

Victoria’s expression softened, but all she said was, “We don’t,” as she handed Greta the bucket. She walked to the front of the room, down the passage to the outside, and pushed aside the rock at the entrance, all without sparing Greta another glance. Greta tried not to feel anything at all about it; it was easier than she’d thought it might be, since she couldn’t decide how she felt.

The sun hurt her eyes as she stepped out of the cave, but not for long, and soon she had a good view of where she was. The city walls were visible, but just barely, and then only because a few of the trees had shriveled, dry leaves. The woods on every side of the cave were dense, with thick undergrowth, and even the air seemed heavy and full of noises and smells.

She walked west, listening for the sounds of a spring. There was a visible path through the woods, even if it was only a narrow little line of down-trodden dirt, and she followed it. The spring itself wasn’t really worthy of the name; it was more of a dried-out trickle, covering the rocks with mud. At a couple of places, though, it widened into a shallow pool, and she did her best to fill the bucket. It was hard, since the spring was so shallow, and she had to top it off by scooping out water with her hands. Despite the shade and the earliness of the morning, it was already wretchedly hot.

The bucket was a lot heavier on the walk back to the cave, and it went a lot slower. There was something rather satisfying about it, though, like she was actually doing something substantial, so Greta managed to keep up her spirits, despite the heat. Well, until she poured her bucket into the vat and realized that it wasn’t even a tenth of the way full. “Oh, God,” she groaned aloud. “Why couldn’t they have a subterranean reservoir?” Still, the thieves had been rather kind to her, and as they didn’t believe she was the princess, only the goodness of their own hearts could have obliged them to help her like they had. It was only right that she pay them back. And besides, she didn’t want Victoria to look at her with scorn again.

So she trudged back out to the stream to fill the bucket again. And again. And again. She splashed herself with the water, which was miraculously cold, every time she made it back to the spring, but she still felt herself growing shaky. Her muscles were still stiff and sore from all the walking she’d done the day before, and Amanda’s shoes really weren’t as comfortable as they had seemed yesterday afternoon.

Suddenly, she felt an urgent need to sit down, so she did, right in the middle of the path, and set her bucket down next to her. She didn’t feel any better, though; now her head was swimming and she wanted to puke. She thought for a moment of Bob and his motion sickness and laughed, sounding hysterical even to her own ears.

“What are you laughing at now?”

Greta would have lifted her head to look at Victoria, but instead, she thought lying down might be the best course of action, so she did. She could still see Victoria out of the corner of her eye, striding down the path with an armful of sticks and an irritated expression on her face.

“Oh, nothing,” said Greta. “Just, puking’s funny, isn’t it?”

The irritation on Victoria’s face changed abruptly to concern, and wouldn’t that be funny, Victoria being worried about Greta? Ironic was the word, maybe. Greta was having a hard time keeping thoughts together. She couldn’t figure out why Victoria would drop her pile of sticks and run over to Greta and her empty bucket, but she did. “Are you all right?” she asked, crouching down by Greta’s side. “Did you throw up?”

Greta waved a feeble hand in the air. “No. Just, I feel kind of like when you’re in a carriage and you have to throw up, you know? Everything’s moving around too much.” She laughed again. It all seemed terribly strange.

“Oh, damn it,” said Victoria. “You’re heat-sick. God, I knew I shouldn’t have let you fill the vat by yourself.” She stroked a hand over Greta’s forehead, and Greta suddenly felt dirty again. She was getting her sweat all over Victoria’s hands, which were callused but still soft.

Then the hand was gone, and Victoria was picking up the bucket and walking away. “Wait,” said Greta feebly. “Don’t…don’t leave me.”

“I’ll be back in half a minute,” said Victoria, giving Greta a comforting smile. “I’m just going to get some water, all right?”

“Oh.” Water did sound rather nice right now, even if carrying it was such an ordeal. “All right.”

“All right, then.” Victoria dashed off, and true to her word, returned a minute or two later with a bucket mostly full of clear water. She knelt again by Greta and said, “Here, put your hand in to get some and drink. Slowly.”

Greta did her best, but her hand was shaky, and she spilled the water all down her front. Victoria rolled her eyes. Scooping up a handful of water, she reached with her other hand to lift up Greta’s head and put the water to her lips. “Drink,” she said.

The water was maybe the best thing Greta had ever tasted, and after three large gulps from Victoria’s hand, her head felt clear enough that she could sit up and scoop some water out for herself.

“Just sit for a while,” said Victoria. “It’s the damned heat. What were you thinking, anyway? You’re supposed to drink plenty of water in this kind of weather, and you could have just drunk from the stream every time you filled the bucket.”

Greta got the distinct impression she was being scolded, but she was too tired to argue. “Sorry,” she said. “I never…well, I never went outside to ride or anything when it was this hot before, and I never carried water in buckets like this, and I didn’t know.”

“Hmm,” said Victoria, as if she didn’t know whether she believed her or not. She put her hand to Greta’s forehead again, stroking sweaty strands of hair to the side almost absent-mindedly. It felt good. “Well. You’re supposed to sit, or even better, lie down, but it’s so hot here. Do you think you can make it back to the cave?”

Greta was fantastically uninterested in standing up, but then, it was cool and dark inside the cave, and there was all that water she’d dumped into the vat. “I think so,” she said.

“Well, come on, then,” said Victoria, and to Greta’s surprise, she stood and put her hands on Greta’s sides, under her arms, pulling her up.

Once Greta had managed to stand, Victoria helped her walk back to the cave. It was short, but it felt terribly long, and she was so exhausted by the time they got back that she felt the need to lie down again.

Victoria filled the bucket and set it next to her, sitting down. For a long while they were silent, Greta staring at the ceiling, concentrating on breathing, and working up the strength to take a sip of water every now and then, Victoria looking troubled and staring into the dark at the back of the cave. Finally, Victoria broke the silence, saying, “I should have told you. I mean, made sure you knew to take a drink every now and then.”

The longer Greta lay there, the stupider she felt, so she said, “No. It’s my fault. I just didn’t think of it, but that was stupid—of course you have to drink more when it’s hot.” She sighed. “I’m not used to doing, you know, useful things. Things that involve carrying stuff and being out in the hot sun.”

Victoria snorted. “You really did have a sheltered childhood, princess,” she said, but she didn’t sound mean about it. After a pause, she added, “You did an all right job filling that vat, though.”

Greta smiled without even meaning to. “Thanks.”

“Hey,” said Victoria, “When you’re feeling a little better, maybe I could show you around the place. It’s not much, you know, but it’s home.”

“I’m feeling better now,” Greta said, sitting up, and Victoria laughed.

“Well, all right then!” She stood and grabbed Greta’s hand, pulling her up, too. “It’s this way,” she said, and she led Greta towards the corridor at the back of the room.

It wasn’t very long, but there seemed to be five separate little chambers leading off of it, two on each side and one on the end, each one mostly blocked off with a kind of rounded wooden door fastened to the stone with screws and hinges. The first room on the left, Victoria explained, was Nate’s; Alex and Ryland shared the one next to it, as they’d been friends since childhood. The room on the end was the storeroom; Victoria only opened the door for a moment and gestured inside, but Greta could make out a variety of bags. Some of them seemed to hold foodstuffs, like flour or grain, but a lot of them seemed like the kind of bags Gabe had given Gerard the previous night—loot. The first room on the right was Gabe’s, and the one next to it Victoria’s. Greta was oddly relieved to hear that Gabe and Victoria didn’t share a room.

Victoria pushed open the door to the back right chamber, and said, “Hey, you want to see my room?” Greta wasn’t about to turn down an offer like that, so she followed Victoria inside. It was almost totally dark, but Victoria grabbed a torch from a wall sconce in the corridor and used it to light a similar wall-mounted lamp inside the room. It was small, with the same kind of dry sand floor as the rest of the rooms, but it held a little bed with a quilt on it, a rug braided from fabric scraps, and a little chest of drawers. “Your clothes are filthy,” Victoria said, and she rummaged around in one of the drawers until she found a plain but decent pink gingham dress. “Here,” she said, handing it to Greta, “it’s too small for me. Let’s see if it fits you.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” Greta said. Her wardrobes at home were filled with a thousand dresses nicer than this one.

Still, something made her close her hand around the fabric Victoria was holding out to her, and Victoria smiled. “I’ll turn around,” she said, and she did.

Greta awkwardly pulled Amanda’s dress over her head. For a moment, she was naked except for the stockings, feeling vulnerable and chilly, and she pulled the pink gingham over her head as quickly as she could. It was longer than Amanda’s dress, and a bit tight in the shoulders and bust, but it mostly fit her all right. It looked funny with the stockings, though, so she pulled them off. She took the signet ring out of the pocket of Amanda’s dress and put it in the pocket of this dress, folding up the other one so it didn’t lie wrinkled on Victoria’s floor. “Okay,” she said, “You can turn around, now.”

Victoria did, slowly, and whatever she saw made her smile, a little wistfully. “You look pretty,” she said. “I mean, it looks pretty on you. You can keep it, if you’d like.”

“Thanks,” said Greta, meaning it as sincerely as she’d ever meant anything. They stood there for a moment like that, awkward and smiling, before the sound of raucous voices came from the front room.

Greta froze. “Is it intruders?”

“No,” said Victoria, her word sounding like a laugh. “The boys are back.”

Sure enough, when Greta listened closer, she could make out the sounds of Nate grumbling, of Alex and Ryland teasing him about something, and of Gabe announcing something indignantly. They all stopped talking when Greta and Victoria came back into the room, looking at them curiously.

“Well, hello,” said Ryland. “I see our guest is still here.” He quickly looked Greta up and down and said, “Nice dress.”

“Hers was getting disgusting,” Victoria said by way of explanation. “What are you all doing home so early? It can’t be past noon yet!”

Gabe sighed exaggeratedly and produced a small bag, presumably full of money. “I declare, the guards are making it impossible to work in the city! They were just everywhere today, and we could scarcely sit down to play before one of the bastards would poke his head around a corner and we’d have to scatter. Obviously, we made them pay for the trouble, but still! I resent their interference in the betterment of my skills.”

“Wait, what?” Greta frowned, confused. “What do you play?”

“Music, Princess Greta!” Gabe bowed with dramatic flourish. “Even in these terrible times—hell, especially in these terrible times—I firmly believe the people need a little old-fashioned dance music.”

As she looked around, she suddenly realized that, except for Gabe and Victoria, everyone was carrying an instrument; Nate had a drum, Ryland was carrying a small harp, and Alex had a lute slung over his shoulder. “I play the accordion, and Gabe sings,” said Victoria, and Greta realized that she must have been fairly obvious about her investigation.

“Wait, why would the guards bother you if you weren’t stealing anything?” Greta asked. “Do they know all your faces or something?”

“I should hope not!” Gabe said with an air of wounded pride.

Nate, though, looked at Greta as if she’d completely lost her mind. “Um, because busking’s illegal?”

Now Greta was completely confused. “That can’t be right! Busking doesn’t hurt anyone, and besides, I was singing with a drummer and a lute player just yesterday, and nobody bothered us.”

Alex shook his head and said, “You were damn lucky you didn’t all get arrested.” He walked over to sit by the fire and shake the rocks out of his boots, and as he did, Greta noticed for the first time that the first two fingers of his right hand were missing.

“What happened to your hand?” she asked.

For a long moment, it seemed as if everyone but Alex had heard her, since they were all giving her looks ranging from shocked to scowling. Then Alex looked up from his left boot and said, “Who, me?”

Greta nodded, and Alex shrugged. “Well, a couple years back—during the last dry spell, you know--” Greta didn’t know, but she wasn’t about to interrupt, so she nodded again. “Food was a bit scarce, and I thought I’d try my hand at hunting.” He smiled wryly and continued, “Of course, that’s illegal, too, if you don’t have the right permit, which of course I couldn’t afford. One of the king’s rangers caught me, and….” He shrugged again.

“That’s terrible!” Greta exclaimed. She had never particularly liked her father, but she couldn’t believe even he could be so downright rotten as to make playing music illegal, or to lop off people’s fingers for hunting when they needed food.

“That’s life,” said Alex, and Ryland made a noise of agreement and sat down next to him.

“And we definitely got back at them,” Ryland said. “Rangers have no idea how to hold onto their money in the city.” He and Alex exchanged wicked grins.

“Stealing’s not good, either,” said Greta, but she didn’t think she could hold that particular theft against them, particularly given the gang’s kindness to her. Surely there was some method of applying to the king for grievances, but she didn’t know it, and it seemed reasonable that they didn’t know it, either.

“Believe you me, princess,” Gabe said with a grin, “we’ve never stolen from anyone who couldn’t spare it.”

“I probably have,” mumbled Victoria, and Gabe’s expression darkened.

“Allow me to rephrase. We’ve never stolen from anyone who couldn’t spare it or didn’t deserve it.” He walked over to where Victoria was standing to drape an arm around her shoulders and whisper something in her ear, and Greta found herself burning with curiosity. She couldn’t ask why Victoria was so upset now, though, not when she’d already managed to kill the jovial mood with her stupid questions and made Victoria look like she might start crying.

Clearly, they were the sort of thieves who stole from the rich and gave to the poor—she should have been able to guess that by the fact that they’d given Gerard and Mikey money last night, and the fact that all their loot was divided up into little bags, the better for distributing. Greta wondered if there were a lot of poor people for them to help, and if so, why her father was wasting time going after street musicians when he could have been helping them help the poor.

“Guess I’d better start on lunch, then,” said Alex, giving Gabe and Victoria a vaguely concerned look. “There’s no point in us going out again today, right?” Gabe nodded, and Alex said, “Right. Ryland, you can help me cut vegetables. I’ve got an idea for a sort of barley pilaf. It’s gonna be great.”

“Yum,” Ryland said, hopping to his feet and dashing back to the storeroom.

Nate sidled over to where Greta was standing and said, a little hesitant, “You said you sing?”

“A little,” Greta said.

“Maybe while they’re cooking, we could play something. We didn’t get to do much of anything this morning.” Nate looked at his feet and added, “I hate it when the guards are all over the place. Sometimes, you just want to play some music.”

Relieved to have the means of breaking the awkward silence so kindly laid out for her, she said, “I’d be happy to sing with you, Nate! Maybe….” She turned to address Victoria, determined to meet her eyes. “Would you like to get your accordion, too?”

Victoria huffed out a little laugh and said, “Sure.” She vanished and reappeared a moment later, an accordion in her hands and Ryland on her heels.

“No fair,” said Ryland with a bit of a pout. “You waited to play after I got roped into cutting vegetables? No fair at all!”

“Oh, stop whining,” Alex said from the middle of the room, where he was rebuilding the fire. “It’ll only take a few minutes.”

And so Gabe and Greta sang as Nate beat out a rhythm and Victoria squeezed a harmony out of the accordion, while Alex and Ryland put together the pilaf and occasionally sang along. The bandits knew a lot of dance tunes and drinking songs, far more than Greta did, but the tunes were easy enough to learn, and Gabe was always willing to stop for a minute and teach Greta the words. Gabe was a real showman, which came as no surprise to Greta, even with the lack of an audience, but she was a little surprised to see how passionately involved Nate and Victoria got, as well. She didn’t think she’d ever seen Victoria so relaxed, grinning broadly at everyone and laughing when they flubbed a song. After lunch, Alex and Ryland joined in with their lute and harp, and the whole thing was so wonderful and wild that Greta couldn’t help but ask, “Why is busking illegal? Surely you could make a lot of money playing for people like this. ”

“Why do fish swim? Why is the sky blue? Why do Ryland’s feet smell so bad?” Gabe shrugged elaborately, dodging a blow from Ryland. “It’s just the way things are.”

“I think it has to do with keeping the people under control,” offered Alex. “After the riots, and all.”

“What riots?”

Gabe laughed. “What riots? Good God, Princess, you really aren’t up-to-date in your current events, are you?” Before Greta had the time to get offended, he continued, “A few years ago, when the king built the palace here, he raised the taxes hugely.”

“Ridiculously hugely,” threw in Ryland.

Gabe nodded sagely. “Ridiculously hugely, for building materials and the like. Building a castle’s expensive, I guess. Seeing as how we were already going through a drought and--well, might as well call it what it was—a bit of a famine, the people weren’t terribly interested in handing over three-quarters of their income to build a new palace right where the main market place used to be. So, we had what you might call a riot. Torches, shouting, throwing rotten fruit, the whole thing. The king wasn’t pleased about it, and ever since, he’s been unfortunately preoccupied in making sure it doesn’t happen again by making the people too tired and scared and worn-down to do anything. Hence the curfews and the guards and the bans on anything even remotely fun.”

“Oh.” Greta was too appalled to say anything else. No one had ever told her. Things had never seemed so bad at the palace at Magnolia, but then, practically nobody lived in Magnolia except for people working at the palace, and clearly, none of them cared to give her the truth about anything.

“Why are we talking politics?” asked Nate with a frown.

They kept playing for an hour or two before Nate and Gabe left for what they called “the distribution part of the operation,” only confirming Greta’s idea that they helped others with the proceeds of their theft.

After they left, Alex stretched out on the ground and gave Ryland a satisfied smile. Ryland sighed. “Whatever,” he said. “Alex cooked, so I guess I’m cleaning. You guys want to look after the garden?”

“Of course,” said Victoria. “Let me just go get Greta a hat. I don’t want her to get heat-sick again.” She ran back to her room.

Greta wasn’t sure what to do, now that she wasn’t expected to sing anymore, so she just sat. Alex gave her a curious look from his position on the ground. “What?” she asked.

“Oh, nothing,” he said. “Just. Be careful with Victoria, all right? We do our best to make sure she doesn’t get hurt.”

Greta frowned. She didn’t know what he meant, unless he meant they were still all afraid of Greta handing them all over to officers of the law. “I wouldn’t hurt her,” she said.

“Okay.” Alex nodded calmly. “Good.” Ryland looked a little more skeptical, but he nodded, too.

Victoria reappeared a second later with a large straw hat, which she placed unceremoniously on Greta’s head. Greta giggled—the hat felt huge—and Victoria smiled back. “We’ll make sure to have plenty of water, this time,” she said. “We need to bring some anyway, to water the plants.”

The three of them, Victoria and Greta and Ryland, went down to the stream, Victoria carrying the bucket and Ryland carrying the big pot Alex had used for cooking. In the heat of the day, the little trickle seemed even smaller and drier, but Greta and Victoria managed to fill the bucket, and they left Ryland to do his best to scrub out the huge pot in the tiny stream.

On the east side of the cave, shaded by a makeshift roof of sticks and grass, there was a little vegetable patch. The soil looked unbearably appealing to Greta’s sore feet, and she kicked off Amanda’s shoes and dug her toes into the ground. It was warm and crumbly and soft, and she sighed happily. “I love summer,” she said.

Victoria harrumphed and said, “I think we could do with a little less of it,” but she kicked off her shoes, too.

They weeded the cabbages and carrots in silence for a while. Though usually Greta didn’t care if she got her clothes dirty, she found herself trying to avoid soiling the skirt of Victoria’s dress, so before long her knees were so grimy that the dirt seemed engrained in the wrinkles of her skin. She could feel the sun burning the tops of her cheeks and the tip of her nose, and she looked at Victoria’s freckles with a funny kind of yearning. It wasn’t that she wanted freckles so much as…well, what she wanted didn’t seem to make much sense, actually, so she distracted herself by asking, “How did all of you meet?”

“Why do you want to know?” asked Victoria, but she didn’t seem angry or suspicious, just curious.

Greta shrugged. “I don’t know,” she said. “I mean, clearly you all know each other well, and Gabe’s friends with Gerard and Mikey, and you said Alex and Ryland have been friends forever, so I just wondered how the five of you came to be…you know. Living out here together.” She wanted to say, “Stealing,” but she didn’t want to upset Victoria again.

“Hmm.” Victoria threw another weed onto the pile and brushed some dirt off her hands. “Well. Gabe’s not from Ramenia, he’s from Midtown. That’s where he knew the Ways—apparently they were friends as children, or something, and I think he and Mikey were….” She gave Greta a sharp, searching look, and continued, “I think they were more than friends for a time.”

“What do you mean?” asked Greta.

“Surely you know that two people don’t have to be married to do what married people do,” Victoria said, softly, as if she were trying to say something without ever actually saying it.

“They were lovers, do you mean?” Greta frowned. She had heard of such people, men who slept with other men and women who slept with other women, but they didn’t make it into most of the tales about thieves and smugglers that she’d read. Something curious stirred in her stomach.

“You could say that,” said Victoria. “I think it was more that they were very close friends who happened to sleep together sometimes.” Her hands stilled in her lap for a moment, and then she reached into the earth to pull out another weed, tugging back and forth until its roots gave in. “At any rate, Mikey met Alicia and married her, and Gabe formed a gang out in Midtown. Only, the king’s guards caught onto them, and they were forced to scatter to different towns.”

“And Gabe came to Ramenia.”

Victoria nodded. “Now, Alex and Ryland are from Ivy—do you know it?” When Greta shook her head, she said, “It’s a village about three miles outside Ramenia. Lovely place, but the soil’s not very good, and it always seems to fail with every drought. After, you know, what Alex told you about, they left to come to the city.” A worm poked its head up out of a clump of dark soil and thready white roots, and Victoria dug around it and put it in the next row, which they’d finished weeding. “Nate was an apprentice to a glass smith,” she continued, “But the smith wasn’t very kind to him, so he ran away. He met up with Gabe, who gave him a place to stay. Gabe was looking to put together a new gang, so he recruited Nate, and the two of them met Alex and Ryland, who were looking for work.” Her tone indicated that that was the end of the story.

But it wasn’t, of course. “What about you?” Greta asked.

Victoria bit her lip and looked carefully at Greta. Instead of answering, she said, “Why do you go around saying you’re the princess? You know it makes you sound crazy, or just obnoxious.”

Greta thought of explaining for the millionth time that she was the princess, that she was only telling the truth. But being the princess didn’t seem like something to be proud of, anymore, and she didn’t want Victoria to be angry with her again. “If I’m the princess,” she said, “this is all an adventure. It’s not that people are actually hungry, or bad things are actually happening. It’s like I’m in a fairy tale.”

“Yeah,” Victoria said quietly. She turned her attention back to the soil. “Me, I was born in Ramenia,” she said. “I lived with a man who wasn’t my father, but he took care of me. Sort of. I did…jobs…for him, for his customers, rather, and then he taught me to steal from the customers. So you see, I have a lot of experience picking pockets.” She smiled, but it wasn’t a happy smile. Greta thought of the frightening innkeeper who had offered her a room for free, and didn’t ask what Victoria meant by ‘jobs.’ “Anyway,” she continued, “one of the customers figured out who had stolen his money, and he raised quite a fuss. Gabe heard the commotion, and he asked me if I wanted a change. I did.” Victoria paused again, staring into the soil as if she were remembering something, and by the look on her face, whatever she was remembering wasn’t very pleasant.

“What happened with the last stranger?” Greta asked, trying to change the subject.

“Hmm?”

“Last night. Ryland said that the last stranger to stay with you was a friend of Gabe’s, and she turned you over to the king’s justice, or something.”

“Oh, Elisa,” said Victoria with a dismissive wave of her hand, but her expression was still sad. “She and Gabe knew each other from somewhere, and she was part of the gang for a while. She and I….” Victoria shrugged. “I thought she loved me, she thought she loved Gabe, same old story. Of course, after a while, having her love you was about the same as having her hate you. She called the guards on us one day while we were in town, and Nate and Alex had to get the rest of us out of jail.” She laughed. “That was an adventure, let me tell you. And when we got back home, Elisa was gone, and that was that.”

“She sounds horrible,” said Greta firmly, unable to think of another time she’d disliked someone she’d never met so fiercely.

“Hmm,” said Victoria, “well, I really liked her, once, but it’s hard for me to trust people, now, even people I like.” She closed her eyes. “Maybe especially people I like. I don’t think I have very good taste.”

Greta’s chest was a muddle of tangled emotions. She didn’t know whether she wanted Victoria to trust her or not—if she didn’t, it meant she liked Greta, but if she did, it would be like being the champion of a quest, overcoming Victoria’s distrust. And why did it matter so much if Victoria liked her? Sure, Victoria was beautiful, and clever, and played the accordion like it was the most fun thing in the world. But Greta was the princess; surely her heart was reserved for a prince. It had to be.

“I’m sure you have wonderful taste,” Greta murmured, and the two of them fell silent again, pulling and piling up the weeds. This silence felt different, though; before, the tension had all been in Greta’s mind, just silliness, but now it felt palpable, as thick as the humid air separating them from each other.

Gabe and Nate returned around sunset, with cheese biscuits and sticky sweet buns from the Ways’ stand. It was amazing how much difference a day made, Greta thought as she looked around the fire. Only last night, supper had been awkward and she had been a stranger; tonight, she was practically one of them. The only reminder that Greta wasn’t just another member of their gang came when Ryland asked, “Hey, Greta, weren’t you going back to the palace today?”

At this point, Greta would have happily avoided seeing her father again for the rest of her life, and she wasn’t any too pleased with Bob or Patrick, either, for somehow neglecting to mention that her father was apparently squeezing the people of Ramenia, and maybe the whole kingdom, dry. “Eh, maybe tomorrow,” she said, “if you don’t mind putting me up another night.” The smiles around the fire indicated that it wouldn’t be a problem.

They played and sang a little after supper, and Victoria said, “Greta, if you want to sleep in my room tonight, I have some extra blankets. We can make up a bed.” Greta didn’t need to be asked twice. The sand in the entrance room was warmer, perhaps, but she slept as soundly on the floor by Victoria’s bed as she’d ever slept in her life.

Part 4