I was stunned, to say the least. What had Shueller been thinking? My immediate reaction was to say no, just no, it would not work. Why? They would ask. How would I explain? Just because the Princess wore rover clothing, that did not make her a rover. That might work at a glance, but another rover would know, because, well because . . . well, because there are customs, and ways of doing things, and, and, and secrets that we do not share, and . . . Oh, this was not going to work. What was Shueller thinking?
“Nissa, are you alright?” Master Clarisse asked, with a great deal of concern in her voice.
I realized that after I said a surprised “what?” I had been carrying on a conversation in my head and probably looked as taken aback as I had felt.
“I’m fine. Just very confused. How did Shueller even think that such a plan would work?”
“Shueller, as you must have surmised by now, is a Günnary by birth, but felt the call of the road, even as a young lad. Rovers occasionally came this way long ago, and when the time was right for him to venture out from here, he left with a rover family to seek his own way. The life of a rover suited him. His example suggests to me that one does not need to be born into a rover family to become a rover,” Torger said.
“He married someone in that rover family, then?” I asked.
“No, Shueller never married,” Torger said, looking somewhat puzzled by my question.
Most of us are rovers by birth. Some, like my mother, become rovers by marriage. Shueller, it would seem, was one of the very few who was accepted as a rover, taken into a clan for some other reason besides birth or marriage. That made him a very special and rare man indeed. But he had had a lifetime to learn our ways. How did he expect to teach the Princess how to be a rover overnight?
Before I had a chance to raise any objections to this plan, Beezle spoke up and asked, “Just how did Shueller expect to be able to hide the Princess in plain sight?”
Yola entered the conversation for the first time. “Folk see what they expect to see.” When we all looked at her skeptically, she continued. “If you see someone dressed in forester garb, you think to yourself, there is a forester, so perhaps Shueller thought that if you saw the Princess in rover garb, you would think she was a rover.”
“At first glance that might be true,” Beezle stated, “but when we were in Snoddleton, Nissa saw a man dressed in forester garb, who at first glance seemed to be a forester, but on closer inspection, raised doubts. His hands were too smooth, so unless he had worn gloves all his life, he had never done any hard labor. Besides, Your Highness, your picture graces a great many places in Sommerhjem, and so you are fairly recognizable to those who are looking for you and to many of your subjects.”
Before the Princess could respond, Yola once again entered the conversation. “Her features are easier to change than you might suspect, Beezle. Give me a half hour with her, and you will not recognize her.”
“Changing her physical appearance is the least of our worries,” I stated with conviction. “It would not be difficult, as you said Yola, to make her look different, and in rover clothing such as she is wearing now, as long as no one spoke to her, she could pass.”
“Ahem, if the rest of the world could ignore me as effectively as you all are doing now, as if I am not in the room, there would be no problem. I could just quietly pass unnoticed straight to the capitol,” Princess Esmeralda stated with dry humor.
As I looked around the room, I wondered if I looked as embarrassed as the rest of the folk in the room. As we began to offer our apologies, Princess Esmeralda waved them away.
“I have a question,” Princess Esmeralda said. “Why would talking to me give me away?”
Since the others were looking to me to answer, I did. “There are two reasons I can think of right off hand. First, your speech is a bit more formal than mine. Second, and this would apply to other rovers, you’re not well versed in our customs, so might not know how to respond as a rover might, but maybe we could get around that. Yola, can you make her appear older?”
“Yes. Why?”
“We might be able to weave a story about her being married to a distant cousin and a very young widow. That would make her married into, but not born of the rovers, and help explain her lack of knowledge and different way of speaking. Also, since she is a recent widow, it will give her an excuse to stick to the homewagon for she will still be grief stricken. But that will only help a little bit. She would still need to know her way around the homewagon and have some cooking and camping skills, for life goes on. Do you have those skills?” I asked.
“I am afraid you will be very hungry, if you have to eat my cooking, for I would probably burn water,” Princess Esmeralda stated ruefully. “As for camping, well, I have been to the royal hunting lodge, but I hardly think that counts.”
“And then, there is the minor matter of having a skill that might be useful to a young husband, such as tailoring, or blacksmithing, or being very good at an instrument. What can you do?” I asked, hoping she had some special talent, since cooking and camping were going to be a challenge.
“Well, I do not suppose learning how to be diplomatic or how to greet foreign heads of state will prove much use in this case,” Princess Esmeralda replied, once again surprising us with a rather dry wit.
“No,” I said. “Do you throw pots?”
“Only once, and that was when I was really angry.”
“Paint?”
“Not that anyone would want to hang in their home.”
“Drawing?”
“No.”
“Work in wood?” I asked hopefully.
“No.”
“Work with precious metals or gems?” Torger asked.
“Only if it involves the royal jewels.”
“Needlepoint?”
“I am afraid that my governess gave up on my ability to stitch anything after a few months, and after pulling quite a bit of her hair out. Poor dear soul now has to wear wigs.”
“Don’t suppose Shueller gave you a quick course in leatherwork when you were riding in his homewagon?” Beezle asked, and I was not sure if he were serious or not.
“Alas, no.”
“How about a musical instrument?” Master Clarisse asked, joining in for the first time.
“I am very good at the harp, and several types of flutes . . .”
“That could work,” Beezle stated.
“. . . but the harp I played would not be practical for the road, for it was very large, and I only know very formal music, which I think would be very unusual for a rover to know. Same goes for the flute music. I know chamber music, but not the music that abounds in the countryside. I have heard it, but never learned to play any, so I think traveling as a rover troubadour is out. Before you ask if I sing, the answer is yes, but again, I am not acquainted with the music enjoyed outside of stuffy recitals in the capitol, and trust me, you do not want me singing those tunes.”
“So, if we could hide you for the next few weeks someplace where you could meet dignitaries or be diplomatic, or someplace where you could perform on a large harp or sing songs that are popular in the capitol but not necessarily here in the out country, that would work?” I stated with some sarcasm. Then I realized I had been addressing the royal heir as if she were Beezle or Master Clarisse. “Begging your pardon, Your Highness.”
“No offense taken,” Princess Esmeralda said, and then let out a loud sigh. “It would seem that my skills are not very practical, and I must admit, rather specific to the capitol and palace. I am beginning to understand why my mother traveled out of the capitol. This discussion has shown I would be hard pressed to make a living in my own land were I not destined to rule. It also points out that I am really out of touch with the folk of Sommerhjem.”
“Now don’t give up yet,” said Yola in a calm voice. “Perhaps you are skilled in herb lore?”
“No, afraid not.”
“Sewing?”
“Anything I sewed would fall apart at first wearing.”
“Ah, can you scribe with fancy lettering and flourishes?” Torger inquired.
“My tutors have despaired over my handwriting. One had the gall to call it less easy to read than chicken scratching.”
“Teller of tales?” Beezle suggested.
“Well some, but I do not think I could make a living at it.”
“Weaving?” I asked.
“No, . . . but I can knit.”
“Knit,” we all exclaimed in unison.
“Yes.”
“Well?” Yola asked.
“Very well, and quite fast. I also can knit complicated patterns with either cables or designs. I had a nanny who taught me to keep me occupied, for I had long stretches where I had very few duties or demands on my time, and as you have heard, I was not good at many things. My nanny was from the far southern mountains and taught me how to knit sweaters, mittens, and hats that folk from her area wore. Would that be of any use?”
“Do you know how to card the wool, spin the yarn, and dye the wool?” I asked.
“Alas, no. My nanny always supplied the yarn.”
“That really may not be an insurmountable problem,” Yola stated. “After all, you just passed through a valley that is the grazing land for sheep. We have plenty of wool here, for the caves are cold and warm sweaters are a must for the miners. We can supply you with all that you need to start with, and I am sure more can be purchased at the fairs. This might work.”
I still had great doubts. We could change the Princess’ appearance, make her look older, give out a believable story as to why she might not know a lot of the rover customs, and she would have a visible skill, but so very much could go wrong. Going on to Springwell-over-Hill with this young woman with the soft hands, and so little in the way of practical knowledge, was just plain crazy, especially since we knew that there were patrols out looking for her.
“There is also the matter of how she ended up with me,” I stated. “Perhaps we could say that she and her husband were going to get a homewagon of their own at the end of the summer, but he died in an accident before that could happen. His family’s homewagon was already overburdened, so when I heard from someone at the fair that she was nearby, I went to get her. If we decide that this plan is not totally out of the question, I would need some time to acquaint her with the routines of traveling in a homewagon, before we get to a fair. I think if we went to the Springwell-over-Hill fair, we might as well forget all the subterfuge and just turn her over to the nearest patrol.”
“If we decide on this plan, we will travel with you,” commented Master Clarisse.
“No,” I said emphatically.
“What do you mean, no?” questioned Beezle.
“You, Beezle, are expected in Springwell-over-Hill to run the family cheese booth, and you, Master Clarisse, also have a booth to run and need to reconnect with Evan. Remember Evan? Besides, we will draw less attention if we are just one homewagon doing the smaller markets and towns over the next week while heading to the Lambkin fair,” I stated, sounding for all the world like I was going to follow this insane plan that Shueller had proposed. “In addition, Master Clarisse, you will need to let Oscar, Bertram, the Jalcones, and especially Shyla, for she will be expecting me, know why I am not at the Springwell-over-Hill fair.”
Master Clarisse looked at the Princess and said, “Any plan to move you from here to the capitol is going to be risky. Staying here is also taking a great chance not only with your life but that of Torger and his folk.” Addressing the rest of us, she asked whether we had any other ideas. Everyone was silent. Master Clarisse then turned to me. “You really have been volunteered for this task, and no one, not one of us, has asked you if you want to do it.”
It had not occurred to me that I could say no. Everything had moved so quickly since we had left Snoddleton that I really had not had time to think about just backing away from this whole situation. What was to prevent me from saying, thanks, but no thanks, I would really rather move on without the Princess and not put my life at risk. I think I will just turn my homewagon north and go home. As I was thinking that, the ring on my finger seemed to warm, and I thought I heard someone whisper, “You are not a coward,” but it must have been my imagination. Whisperer or no whisperer, I knew what my answer would be.
“I’ll take the Princess with me,” I said, with what I hoped was conviction in my voice. “We will leave in the morning, if that’s agreeable, Your Highness.”
“It is agreeable to me, but we had better think of something else to call me unless the rovers have suddenly developed royalty within their clans.”
“How about Kiaya? It is a name common in the far south,” Master Clarisse suggested.
I looked at her, wondering how it was that she knew about the far south. I realized that for all the time I had been traveling with her, I really knew very little about her. Was that from my lack of interest or her lack of sharing? But then I had not shared very much about myself, for I did not want to give anything away that would give anyone an idea that I was someone other than Nissa the rover.
“Kiaya would be fine.”
“While you all try to get some rest, Yola and I will gather items we think you might need or could use. Kiaya, would you accompany me, for we need to fit you with a ring,” Torger said.
“A ring?” the Princess answered back.
“It would not do for a young widow to have taken off her marriage ring so soon after her husband’s death.”
I had not thought of that, so I was glad Torger had. Yola motioned that we should follow her to sleeping chambers where we would find our clothes freshly cleaned and a bed for the night. After dropping Master Clarisse and Beezle off at their respective chambers, I walked after Yola, expecting to enter the next opening, when she said, “Would you do me the honor of talking with me for a moment? I will not keep you long.”