Orson Card - Pathfinder

“The royals do,” said Umbo. “Loaf and I are dressed exactly right.”

“Please don’t call us that,” said Rigg.

“He’s right,” said Loaf. “Get out of that habit, or you’ll say something that gives us all away.”

“Sorry,” said Umbo resentfully.

“You’re dressed like privicks,” said Olivenko. “I mean that in the nicest possible way.”

“We were supposed to look like privicks,” said Loaf. “We are privicks.”

“There’s no way we can make her look like she belongs with you ,” said Olivenko. “Either we put you in livery to look like her servants, or you dress like the kind of people who might be traveling with her.”

Rigg watched the others closely, reading their body language. “Listen,” said Rigg. “Olivenko isn’t taking charge, he’s just telling us things that none of the rest of us are in a position to know.”

“Who said I was in charge?” asked Olivenko, bristling.

“Nobody,” said Rigg. “We all contribute what we know, do what we can do. Olivenko knows this city in a way none of us can. My sister least of all.”

“Do we have enough money?” asked Olivenko. “Because I don’t have enough to buy shoes for a one-legged man.”

“We have enough,” said Loaf.

Param merely stood beside Rigg, eyes downcast, looking demure. It had been her survival strategy in Flacommo’s house. And it occurred to Rigg that this continued to be her best disguise. No one knew what the princess looked like—she hadn’t been seen by the public in a long, long time. And nobody would expect a royal to act so humble.

And Father had trained Rigg to act however he needed to. He could command the eye, impose his presence on others so they couldn’t take their eyes off him. He could also disappear, becoming hard to notice even when he was the only other person in the room. “People treat you as you expect to be treated,” Father had said. Rigg had complained that since all their work was with animals, this was hardly important. Now Rigg could only wonder if Father had known everything, planned everything.

“We could use a map,” said Rigg.

“I know how to get to the Wall,” said Loaf.

“It’s not hard anyway,” said Olivenko. “Any direction you go, eventually there it is.”

“But they’ll be chasing us soon enough,” said Loaf. “We’re getting out of town today, but once they know we’re gone, how long before General Citizen’s men overtake us on the road? It doesn’t look like the lady is ready for a long pursuit.”

“What I need,” said Rigg, “is a place where the ground hasn’t changed its level in eleven thousand years.”

“Oh, are there maps with that information?” asked Loaf.

“I need a stony place without a river, fairly smooth ground. Grass and no trees, if we can help it. As few trees as possible.”

“I can think of a few places that might answer,” said Loaf.

“What’s the closest one?” asked Rigg.

“In the east. And well south of here.”

“Do you or Umbo remember how the boundaries were on that globe in the Tower of O?” asked Rigg. “We don’t want to end up in the same wallfold where Father Knosso was killed.”

Loaf stopped, closed his eyes a few moments. “It’s well south of the boundary of the next wallfold. It won’t be the same one.”

“Good,” said Rigg. “The people there are not . . . nice.”

“Saints forbid we should go to a place where people aren’t nice,” said Umbo.

“We want them to be nice enough not to kill us immediately.”

They were walking again, and soon arrived at the shop Olivenko had been looking for. “Not that I’ve ever bought anything here,” he said. “But the clothes are nice—even if they weren’t made for anyone in particular. We don’t have time for tailoring.”

They explained to the shopkeeper what they wanted. “Good, practical traveling clothes for all of us.”

The shopkeeper looked them up and down, especially taking note of the difference between Loaf and Umbo on one hand, and Rigg and Param on the other.

“We don’t want to be conspicuous when traveling,” said Rigg. “These two went to an extreme, I think.” He indicated Umbo and Loaf.

“And you haven’t even started trying yet,” said the shopkeeper.

“We don’t want to look so poor that innkeepers won’t trust us to pay, or so rich that robbers are tempted.”

The shopkeeper gave a sharp bark of a laugh. “With two soldiers like these with you, it would take a bold band to make a try for you.”

“We aren’t going to look like soldiers,” said Olivenko.

The shopkeeper looked him and Loaf up and down again. “Good luck with that. I don’t have any magical clothing that will make you look wan and sophisticated.”

“What about making me look tall?” asked Umbo.

“Now, that I can do—if you don’t mind walking in very tall shoes.”

It took an hour, but they emerged with reasonably well-fitting and comfortable clothes. They still looked like money—but not like really big money. A trading family, perhaps.

“So who are we?” asked Olivenko, when they were on the street again. “I’m too young to pass for anybody’s father. And you, sir, are frankly too old.”

“We did well enough before,” said Loaf.

“Loaf is Param’s and my father,” said Rigg. “And Umbo is your cousin from upriver, who was sent to Aressa Sessamo to get an education under your supervision.”

“Oh, yes, I’ll fool everybody with that ,” said Umbo.

“I didn’t say you actually got one,” said Rigg, smiling. But the smile didn’t work. Umbo was a little surly and Param was getting shyer. Maybe they were uncomfortable in their new clothes. Or maybe they were just frightened about what lay ahead.

“Look,” said Rigg. “I know what I’m asking of all of you. Only two of us are in any serious danger. But we can’t get to safety—if that’s what it is—without the rest of you. Especially you, Umbo.”

“Am I complaining?” asked Umbo.

“I’m just thinking that maybe you’d rather—”

“Stop apologizing for being alive,” said Umbo. “Don’t you know who your friends are? Don’t you know what friendship is?”

“You didn’t seem very happy.”

“I’m not happy,” said Umbo. “I don’t know this guy, but I know he works for the city guard, and here we are trusting him with our lives.”

“He’s late showing up for duty—by tomorrow he’s a deserter,” said Rigg.

“Unless he’s on assignment right now,” said Umbo.

“You came to me ,” said Olivenko stiffly.

“My father trusted him—my real father.”

“And look where that got him,” said Umbo. “Could he be deader?”

Rigg watched Olivenko as he calmed himself. Rigg decided not to intervene, but rather to let Olivenko handle this himself. “You don’t know me,” said Olivenko, “but I loved his father and grieved for him when he died, more than anybody.”

“Not more than me,” said Param softly.

“But nobody saw you grieving,” said Olivenko. “So how could I know? All I can say is, with the passage of time, you’ll see who I am, and I’ll see who you are. I trust you now because Rigg trusts you. I’m betting my life and career, my whole future on you. And Rigg is asking you to make the same bet on me. Has Rigg shown bad judgment before?”

“Yes, I have,” said Rigg. “I trusted my mother.”

“No you didn’t,” said Param.

“Well, no, never completely. But I wanted to believe in her.”

“Is it that way with this Olivenko?” asked Loaf. “Do you want to believe in him?”

“No,” said Rigg. “It never occurred to me that one of my guards might be somebody—a person, somebody I could talk with. But he became my friend during my time in the library. He never tried to ingratiate himself with me.”