"Everything is ready, I think. Are you sure you want to do it this way?" Dohrnaira asked her sister.
"Trust me, Naira."
"I can't believe I'm letting you do this."
"It will work. He won't have a chance to think. . . ."
"I can't believe I'm helping you do this. You know, sister, you weren't even supposed to have this chance. If it had gone differently when I was a lady-in-waiting--"
"Well, whose fault is that, Naira dear?"
"You're so smug--don't be so quick to assume you'll fare any better with him."
"Don't you be so quick to assume I won't. Now, Naira--there, we're all ready--go on, you've got to take care of the other one, remember, the tall fellow."
"Egro Firyni, my dear sister. Don't you ever read the news?--Yes, yes. I'm going."
Kitten stopped at last, and Thayer jogged to catch up. They had reached a part of the gardens that might more properly be called the woods. Trees pressed densely in against the narrow path, and the light of the sun reached them only with difficulty through the branches above. Just ahead, a quaint little bridge crossed a stream that burbled contentedly to itself.
That would explain the splash he'd heard seconds ago, anyway.
And the splash probably explained what he was hearing now: A cry of "Help!" reached him faintly from the stream ahead. Thayer jogged forward again, despite a sudden squeal of alarm from Kitten, who followed more slowly.
He didn't spot her until he was nearly to the bridge, because she was almost exactly under it, sitting out in the stream, not very far from the shore, with one leg tucked behind her. Something, it struck him, wasn't quite right.
"Grace above!" she gasped when she saw him. "My lord Dictator!" Her eyes widened and one hand flew to her mouth, and Thayer even thought he saw her blush ever so daintily.
"Er . . . yes," he said, "I . . . Ah, what happened here, Miss? Are you quite all right?"
"Oh, I'm so sorry, Your Majesty," she babbled, trying to tug the askew leg back in line with the other as if embarrassed--yet pausing in this rearrangement of her limbs just long enough that his attention was drawn to them. Thayer arched an eyebrow and glanced back to her face--familiar somehow? Or was that just his imagination?
"I fell, you see," the girl was hastily explaining. "I was just leaning over the railing up there to look down . . . I thought maybe I could see the fish from here, but . . . and then it broke and here I am. And I . . . I think something's wrong with my ankle, maybe I twisted it. . . ."
Thayer readily glanced away from her golden hair and wide green eyes, now fluttering earnestly at him, to inspect the bridge. As she had said, one segment of the railing had broken, directly above where she now sat in water not quite up to her waist.
He glanced back, but--something still didn't seem right. "Can you move, Miss?" he probed, stalling as he tried to determine what was wrong about her, and at the same time advancing toward the stream, looking for safe footing. The bridge was broken, true enough--and she, just below it, was soaked to the skin, her fancy green dress--the style favored by his mother's ladies, Thayer suddenly realized--wilted close against her figure, like the emerald scales of a mermaid's tail.
Then how had she managed to keep her hair so perfectly dry?
"I'm not sure," she said, making a feeble effort to stand.
"Perhaps," Thayer said, "I'd better go for help and . . ."
"Oh," she said quickly, "do you think that's necessary? I mean, you ought to be able to . . . well . . . carry me?"
Thayer sighed inwardly. She had to be one of the ladies-in-waiting--but she looked so familiar, and he was sure he'd not met any of the current girls other than Lenka. Still, it would hardly do to just wander off and leave her there, if she really were injured. "I suppose so. Quite sure you can't walk?"
"Oh, no," she assured him cheerfully, brightening at the prospect of his cooperation.
Nothing else for it, then. Ignoring a low whistle from Kitten, Thayer waded cautiously out into the stream. "Whatever were you doing this far out in the woods, anyhow?"
"Me? Why, I--well, the fish, you know. . . ."
"Fish. Hm."
"I just like to look at them, you know. . . . But then the bridge. . . ."
"The bridge, of course." He stooped and gathered her up; she was a most compliant burden, wrapping her arms around his neck as if quite practiced at being carried in such a manner.
But as he turned and made his way back to the shore, it became more and more tricky to carry her; she pressed herself close to him in such a way that he had difficulty seeing past her to the stony bed of the stream. He tried to shift her weight more to one side, but she was obstinate. "Excuse me, Miss, if you don't mind. . . ."
"Yes?"
"I can't quite see--"
"What?"
"--where I'm walking--"
"Oh, I'm sorry . . . should I . . . er . . ."
"If you could--"
"I'm not quite--oh!"
*splash*
After shaking the water out of his eyes, Thayer glared across at the newly-soaked (hair and all) lady-in-waiting. But she missed the glare entirely; her face was contorted with pain, and her low moan was quickly rising in pitch to become a panicked wail.
"Now what?" Thayer muttered, carefully standing up again.
"My ankle!" she whimpered.
"Oh, good grace. You've hurt it again?"
"I think it's broken!"
"Here, let me look." She flinched away from his touch now--she seemed almost resentful at how the injury forced her to drop her wiles and airs--though he was careful as could be, and not entirely out of gentleness.
"It's swollen, indeed," he noted. "You hurt the same ankle all over again?"
"What? Oh--er--yes, I--yes, it is."
Thayer raised an eyebrow at her hesitation; but regardless of the truth about the first injury, there was no doubt of this one. "I don't think it's broken, actually," he concluded, "but you had better not walk on it till the medics have a look."
"I couldn't," she sobbed, "if I tried!"
"No, I suppose not. Here, I'll have to--er--carry you again, if I can. . . . There, now, lean more to the side so I can see my path; else you'll have me tripping on the riverbed again, and you'll probably turn the other ankle, this time. So hold still."
The girl nodded, tense and quiet now that she had actual pain to deal with, and Thayer made the rest of the journey to the shore without further incident. There he deposited her carefully on the bank and looked around for Kitten.
"Your Majesty!" the girl gasped. "Don't leave me, I can't walk!"
"Nor can I carry you all the way back," Thayer said. "I'm going back for help now."
"But Sire!"
"I'd leave Kitten with you until the medics return, but . . . he seems to have wandered off."
"Kitten?"
"The droid."
"Oh, couldn't you just send him for help?"
"That would be an idea," Thayer said dryly, "were Kitten still here. Unfortunately, he's not. Sit still, Miss--I won't be long."
Her mournful wail chased after him as he hurried back down the path, still squeezing excess water out of the ends of his shirt. But when he paused after a bend in the path and waited a few moments, he heard the wail quickly descend to a mere whimper, now that there was no one present for the girl to wail at. Shaking his head at her deviousness, he continued on his way again, still trying to determine why she had looked so familiar. From her dress--not to mention her forward ways--she must surely be one of the ladies-in-waiting, but he couldn't guess which lady she was.
A sudden loud beeping interrupted his deliberations. Thayer looked around, recognizing the sound of an astromech droid--"Kitten?" he called. But the little droid was nowhere to be seen.
The beeping sound came again, off to his right. The trees were less dense now. Without hesitation, Thayer left the path and pressed through the underbrush in pursuit of the noise.
He found Kitten not far from the path, in a little clearing--but it wasn't the sight of the red and black droid that made Thayer stop short in surprise. Kitten wasn't alone. A slender, golden-haired girl struggled against the grip of the droid's pincer arm around her wrist.
"Kitten?" Thayer said.
The girl stopped struggling, only then noticing the Dictator's presence. She turned to face him with fearful eyes and the stance of an animal poised for flight. And now that she was holding still, he recognized her.
"Dohrnaira Neris!" Thayer frowned. "What are you doing here?"
"Nothing . . . Your Majesty," she muttered, looking sullenly at the ground.
"Kitten," Thayer persisted, "what is she doing here?"
The droid responded with a burst of beeps and chirps and clicks, but that was incomprehensible to Thayer. "Er . . . yes," the Dictator hesitated, and then decided that bluffing was best. Putting on his sternest expression, he addressed Dohrnaira again. "Is that true?"
"What?" She was confused enough to look up quickly, but when she saw his face she immediately dropped her gaze.
"You heard him," Thayer said--and she certainly couldn't argue with that."But I--"
"It's a very serious accusation, Lady Neris. How do you answer?"
"Your Majesty--how am I supposed to know what he said?" Then, gathering all her daring, she looked up at him again, long enough for him to see the hostility in her green eyes--and then something clicked. The girl at the stream who'd looked so familiar: it was a resemblance to Dohrnaira that he'd seen. Then she must be--
"Your sister," Thayer blurted. Kitten responded with a flurry of chirps, reminding Thayer to return to his bluff. "Yes," he said, "you're here with your sister--er--what's her name? Etta?"
"Etidorhpa," Dohrnaira muttered reluctantly.
"Yes, her," Thayer said, "Etidorhpa, one of my mother's ladies-in-waiting, and you're--"
"It was her idea, Sire!" Dohrnaira pleaded.
"Oh?" Thayer arched an eyebrow. "Was it?" What was? But it wasn't hard to guess--"The matter of the stream? You had nothing to do with that?"
"No, I--" Dohrnaira hesitated and then started again. "I'm only here to visit Eti, Your Majesty. Surely there's no harm in that?" Her scowl challenged defiance.
"The stream, Dohrnaira?" he reminded her.
"It was--Why--" Suddenly there was a different light in her eyes, a new sort of determination--she'd reached a decision, but what? "Why, what of it, Sire? It was a rather silly idea, I suppose, but Eti may be forgiven her silly ideas sometimes. She wanted to go out and look at the stream, but that bridge is so old and rickety--well, it was ill luck it should break while she was leaning there, and I suppose we ought to have been more careful, but still it's hardly something to be helped. So when she fell in, I went to find help."
She meant to stick to Eti's story? Thayer regarded her for a moment in surprise. From what he'd seen of her when she was a lady-in-waiting, he would not have figured her for one to place much value on loyalty--yet here she was backing up her sister's lies at the risk of being found a liar herself.
There was more to this than was apparent, but Dohrnaira wasn't likely going to be the one to reveal it to him.
"I see," he said slowly. "Well, I'm going for help now myself, so you'd best just go back to the stream and stay with Etidorhpa until the medics arrive."
"Medics?" Dohrnaira's confusion was evident for a split second before she regained her composure.
"That was a nasty fall. Her ankle will have to be treated soon. Kitten--let this girl go; she's done nothing." The droid whistled in protest but obeyed.
Dohrnaira stood rubbing her wrist for a moment. "But--Sire--I--"
"Hurry on back, Dohrnaira. Your sister will certainly appreciate the company. She was rather upset when I had to leave her."
"I don't doubt it," Dohrnaira muttered, almost smiling. "I--Well, all right, Sire." After one more look of confusion, she turned and started making her way back through the trees.
Thayer waited till she was well out of hearing before speaking again to Kitten. "So," said he, "just what was all that about?"
But the droid's response was no more comprehensible than before. "Never mind," Thayer sighed. "Come on back to the Palace; as soon as I've sent someone with a stretcher for our little injured dramatist back there, we'll find a terminal for you to hook up to and be translated."
"Nai-raaaa!" Eti's renewed wail greeted Dohrnaira as she reached the stream again.
"Eti! Whatever happened? If you're still faking it, you've carried it on far too long; he's well out of hearing by now."
"Naira! I'm not faking, come here and look, I've really twisted it this time, I think. Oh, how it hurts!"
"Why, it's hardly even--Oh! Oh, good grace, sister, what did you do? It's swollen up like a puffer fish."
"He dropped me. . . ."
"He--You mean you got him to carry you?"
"Oh! Well, of course I did, sister. You should have seen it; it was absolutely romantic--up until he dropped me, of course. Oh, I wish I'd thought to have you wait 'round--you might have got pictures, and then--"
"As it is, it's your word against his that he carried you?"
"Ah, well, I don't know that pictures would be of much use, anyway. I don't want to scandalize him such that he'll hate me."
"Just annoy him to that point, then?" Naira rolled her eyes and sat down carefully on the bank next to her sister.
"I think he rather likes me, in fact."
"What!"
"Well, he was very courteous."
"He's always courteous--a most cruel courtesy, Eti."
"You're just jealous, Naira."
"Why should I be? What's to be jealous of? Hush, little sister, or I'll throw you back in that river myself."