The Disposable Page 9

  “Who hasn’t?” Flirt’s tone was impressively grave. “I came out here myself to check the outbuildings for them, but I haven’t found a trace, have I? It doesn’t surprise me, though. I’d imagine Fodder would have more sense than to blunder back home.”

  Fodder considered that remark entirely uncalled-for as he tried to ignore the gyrations of the fuzzy-haired princess he was desperately trying to keep silent. But Flirt was already ploughing on.

  “So have they got you all scouring the countryside then?” she asked conversationally. “I imagine Preen’s spitting blood, isn’t he?”

  “He’s not happy.” From anyone other than Midlin, such a remark would have contained more than a hint of sarcasm, but Midlin’s dull voice offered it up as simple fact. “Especially since Strut put Thud in charge of the search. He sent Thump and Clunny off into the woods and set Dunny and Tumble to patrol the roads. Sentinel and his guards are out in force as well.”

  “Sounds serious, doesn’t it?” How the hell was Flirt managing to stay so cool? “Are they sure it’s not a mistake? Some misunderstanding with the instructions?”

  “I wondered that too,” Midlin admitted solemnly. “But after what Fodder was saying at dinner, I’ve started to doubt it. I’ve already passed the awful things he said to Preen.”

  Fodder fought to keep his blood from boiling, and the look on Shoulders’s face strongly implied that he too considered violence to be in the air. Midlin had told Preen about their conversation? Whatever happened to friendship, to Disposable loyalty, of all being in it together?

  It seemed, however, that that was exactly what Midlin’s loyalty was. Disposable.

  He’d hated the conversation at dinner. Fodder had gotten the impression that Midlin not only didn’t understand, but couldn’t. And here was the proof. He’d broken the unwritten rule. You did not tattle to Preen about your mates.

  “You passed it on?” Flirt sounded as shocked as Fodder felt.

  “It was the right thing to do.” Midlin actually sounded surprised by her question. “I don’t know where he got those unnatural ideas from, but he needs to be stopped as soon as possible. He’s trying to destroy our way of life, and we can’t let that happen. I know you spoke up for him earlier, but now this has happened, you must be able to see that.”

  Pleasance’s wriggling had not ceased. Fodder had been hoping the prospect of Flirt’s cosmetic improvements would be enough to calm her, but apparently with the prospect of rescue a few yards away, her fear of goat-decorated skin and shaved-off hair had gone out of the window.

  “Of course I can!” Just beyond the stall, Flirt was bluffing wildly. “I can’t believe what I was thinking! In fact, why don’t I help you search? I’ve done this stable, but if you head out to the cowshed, I’ll go and check the yard.…”

  It was worth a try, but Fodder knew the moment the words passed her lips what the result would be. Midlin was too set in his ways, too obedient to instructions.

  “I was told to do it myself. I have to check the stable.”

  Footsteps, moving through the hay, Midlin starting forwards, Flirt ferociously back-pedalling.

  “But there’s really no need, is there? I’ve searched it from end to end!”

  “I was told to do it myself.”

  “Don’t you trust me?”

  “It’s not about trust. I was told to do it myself.”

  A hand, Midlin’s hand, on the stall gate, as Flirt’s curly head thrust forwards to block his view. Fodder shouldered Flirt’s pack as quietly as he dared even as Shoulders took a firmer grip on the horrified princess, ready for an abrupt hoist.

  “Honestly, there’s no need!”

  “I was told to do it.”

  “But you’ll be wasting your time! They could be out there right now, getting further away with the princess!”

  “But I was told to—”

  “Midlin!”

  “Yes?”

  Midlin had already half opened their stall. And so it was that Fodder got to witness an uppercut punch straight out of the Narrative textbook.

  “Leg it!” Shoulders was up and running before Midlin hit the floor—Pleasance hurled over one shoulder, leaving Fodder and Flirt little choice but to follow. Even as they skidded out of the doors into the stable yard, Flirt wringing her right hand, they could hear Midlin—alas, still conscious—yelling at the top of his voice and, oh sod it, there were the villagers pouring out of the inn, looking bewildered and tired.

  “Woods!” Flirt bellowed commandingly, and Fodder didn’t bother to argue with her as she belted off towards the dark trees on the far side of the village. Torches were flaring behind them. Strut’s strident tones echoed through the cluster of houses, trying to muster Fodder’s sleepy community into some manner of pursuit. Shoulders was stumbling and staggering under the weight of his Royal burden, Pleasance’s head bumping and bobbing unceremoniously against his back. Fodder could feel the pack bouncing, the inexplicable poker that Flirt had packed digging painfully into his right kidney as he pumped his legs into the kind of exertion unfamiliar out of Narrative. In the shadows to his left, he caught a glimpse of Donk’s massive frame lumbering out of Shoulders’s tatty cottage and, further back, he could see Tumble and Dunny belting down the woodland road towards them. And—oh bugger—away over his shoulder, perhaps a mile back up the trail, he could almost taste the advance of the vivid blackness of The Narrative.

  They want to capture us In Narrative. They want to make it plot, have the Merry Band do it. Well, let them try! I defied it before; I can do it again!

  Probably…

  Now was not the time for doubt. Hot on the heels of his companions, Fodder plunged into the darkened woods.

  Fodder knew these woods. Most former Humble Village Urchins did. All of them had played amongst the trees in their youth, found their own special spots and secret places. Most amongst their number, including Fodder himself, had at one time or another claimed that they could traverse the woods blindfolded.

  This was proven immediately to be a lie as Fodder ran into a low-hanging branch, stumbled upright to reel into a patch of brambles, and then promptly stuck his foot down a badger hole.

  Somewhere to his right, Fodder heard a loud thump and the sound of Shoulders’s voice cursing with enthusiasm. To his left, he heard Flirt sigh.

  “You two are bloody useless,” he heard her mutter.

  A hand grasped his arm, hauling him out of the badger hole and away into the darkness. A brief stop also retrieved Shoulders and the bound Pleasance, who had been dropped rather indelicately, if accidentally, into the mud puddle that had earned Shoulders’s wrath. And then they were off, moving through the trees in a manner which strongly implied that, while other claims at moving blindfolded through the woods had been exaggerated, Flirt’s had not. How she managed to avoid the brambles, briars, roots, mud, and low branches that thwacked, tore at, and generally tormented Fodder and, to judge by his swearing, Shoulders too, he genuinely didn’t know. It was entirely possible that she simply handled herself with more panache. But whatever the cause, by the time Flirt led them down a sharp slope into a narrow gully and into a low, round opening concealed in the roots of a tree, Fodder was fairly certain that he was bleeding from more places than he wasn’t.

  After a brief crawl on their hands and knees through a tight tunnel, they emerged into a low-ceilinged grotto. Fodder added a bruised head to his ever-growing list of wounds.

  As Flirt lit the small lantern concealed in an alcove out of sight of the entrance, their hidey hole flickered into view. It appeared to have started life as a badger’s set, judging by the even narrower tunnels that vanished between the curling roots into the earth behind, but it had clearly been adopted more recently by something more human-shaped. A ratty old rug had been spread on the uneven floor, and three broken-down boxes had been placed about, apparently as makeshift chairs. A tiny wooden chest, a bottle, a stone pendant on a string, and a sad, damp, mouldy piece of ribbon lay scattered
about on the floor.

  “It’s my childhood den.” Flirt answered the unasked question as she dropped onto one of the rickety boxes with a sigh. “My sisters and I used to play here as girls. Only the three of us ever knew about it.”

  “Are you sure?” Shoulders propped the surprisingly unresisting princess up against the nearest wall, then dropped onto the rug, rubbing at a long bramble cut running down his cheek.

  “Did you know it was here?” Flirt countered. “It was our secret place. We never told anyone.” She smiled slightly. “We didn’t want any noisy boys sticking their noses in.”

  “I trust you,” Fodder stated frankly. “But what about Levity and Lass?”

  “It was mostly me and Levity really,” Flirt replied with a shrug. “And I doubt they’ll go all the way to Provincial Town tonight to ask her where in the woods I might go to hide, will they? Lass only came here about twice—she didn’t like getting her dresses dirty.”

  “But she has been spending an awful lot of time with Clunny lately,” Shoulders pointed out somewhat dubiously. Fodder was relieved that his friend had shown enough good sense not to go into the kind of detail that Clunny had when he’d gleefully described their latest evening together whilst waiting on the road a few days before. “If she does remember…”

  “I doubt she’ll see him before morning, what with all this fuss.” Flirt dismissed the concern with a wave of her hand as she reached into her pack and dragged out the blankets. “And by then we’ll be well and truly gone, won’t we? You two should try and get some sleep—I reckon it’ll be in short supply for a while. I’ll stand watch.” Her eyes raked over Shoulders’s muddy armour and Fodder’s bloodstained face, not to mention the filthy state of Princess Pleasance’s precious hair. “Those wounds will most likely be healed by morning, but there’s a stream just outside if you need to wash.”

  “Yeah, I know,” Shoulders muttered bad-temperedly. “I bloody trod in it.”

  “Use this.” Flirt handed Shoulders the battered old bottle from the floor. “Clean it, then bring some water inside, will you? And be careful. We know Clunny and Thump are out there and probably half the village by now too.”

  Muttering about how he was hardly an idiot and how he had been there when they’d been chased, Shoulders crouched down and crawled out of the narrow entryway.

  There was a moment of blessed silence. Fodder glanced over to where Flirt had settled herself, her expression thoughtful as she rummaged through their pack once more. How lucky they were that she’d so easily taken their side. Without her, Fodder was certain that they’d have been captured already.

  Ordinary she might have been born, but ordinary Flirt of Humble Village most certainly was not.

  “Thanks for this.” The words slipped out almost unconsciously. “You know, for taking charge. Sorting us out.”

  Flirt glanced up, and Fodder was surprised to see a hint of consternation on her face.

  “You don’t mind, do you?” she asked, her voice suddenly filled with concern. “I mean, I’ve been bossing you around, and this is your plan after all.…”

  “No, no!” Fodder stuck his hands up in the air with a smile that he hoped portrayed his outright relief that she had come along. “We needed it, and you’re much better at this than I’d ever be. I’m more than happy to be the ideas man. You keep bossing us as much as you like.” His smile spread. “You’re bloody good at it, you know.”

  Flirt grinned broadly. “I always said I was more than a hair colour and a bosom, didn’t I? I’ve been waiting for a chance like this all my life!”

  Fodder gave a short laugh, meeting her eyes quietly. “You know what?” he said softly. “I think I have too. I just didn’t know it.”

  “I dreamed of it.” Flirt’s eyes drifted far away. “I’ve always wanted to show every leery bugger who ever pinched my bottom or called me darling that I’m made of sterner stuff than they are. Well, let me tell you!” she exclaimed with sudden fervour. “No man’s going to call me wench again! Not unless he wants his guts yanked out and roasted over a slow fire! I’ll show them what they’re made of!”

  Fodder frowned slightly. “Shouldn’t that be you’ll show them what you’re made of?”

  The glint in Flirt’s eye was just slightly alarming. “Not if they call me wench! The next man to do that’ll be seeing what he’s made of spread all over the road at his feet.…”

  “Trod in the bloody stream again, didn’t I?”

  Fodder had never been so thankful to hear that grouching tone. Accustomed as he was to senseless brutality, the mental imagery that had accompanied Flirt’s words had not sat well in his brain. He liked her very much, but there were times when she could be deeply, deeply scary.

  With a shuffle and a thud, Shoulders’s distinctly cleaner head appeared suddenly through the hole. Abruptly, he thrust the icy cold bottle of water into Fodder’s hands.

  “It’s bloody freezing, that water!” he declared. “But there’s no one about. I think there was a hint of The Narrative over the trees somewhere north, but I didn’t get close enough to tell. It wasn’t very close, anyway. Are you going to use that or what?”

  Startled out of his surprise at the intrusion, Fodder busied himself in tearing a fresh rag from his already ripped surcoat and damping it down with the water.

  “Yeah, thanks,” he managed inarticulately. His eyes strayed over to the grubby, tangled, and subdued princess, looking over her pale face and wide, miserable eyes. In spite of his ongoing irritation with her, Fodder couldn’t help but feel a little twinge of guilt.

  “What about her?” He gestured with less-than-considerable enthusiasm. “Do you think we should clean her up a bit too? She did behave when we were running.”

  “I suppose there’s no harm in rewarding good behaviour, is there?” At Flirt’s gesture, Fodder tore yet another rag from his now-belt-length surcoat and handed over the bottle. “You see?” she told the princess with a smile. “Misbehave and creative things happen involving scissors and skin illustrations. But if you behave, we’ll make sure you’re comfortable. Okay?”

  At Pleasance’s reluctant nod, Flirt settled down with the rag and bottle to clear away the worst of the grime from the porcelain features. Fodder and Shoulders, stooped to avoid collision with the low roof, set about laying the blankets in the limited available space. Fodder shook his head quietly as he settled down. It had been a strange few hours. He could only hope the night would be more restful.

  What am I doing? What have I gotten myself into?

  But that was a question for mornings, for the cold light of day. For now, he needed sleep.

  * * *

  It was not the most blissful night’s sleep that Fodder had ever had. The aches and pains of the non-Narrative damage he had suffered faded away overnight, but the ground was hard and slightly damp and several times, he was woken by the distant sound of voices and tromping feet somewhere in the woods beyond the grotto’s entrance. Flirt had kept the early watch, but she had apologetically woken Fodder a few hours later, explaining that she’d decided the grumbling if she’d roused Shoulders for such an unpleasant watch would have lasted several eternities. And so Fodder had yawned his way through several hours of nervous listening before he had braced himself and woken Shoulders. But the sleep he dropped into after his watch was thin and unsatisfying, and he was already half-awake when Flirt roused him. The pale, dusty light trickling down the tunnel from the gully implied that it was about dawn.

  “I’ve had a scout round the woods,” Flirt informed her companions thoughtfully as they packed up and readied themselves for their first official day of rebellion. “And it’s teeming with people out there. Mostly it’s the villagers, and they really aren’t trying that hard to find anything, but Thud’s been striding about bellowing like a lunatic and The Narrative’s been circling the woods like a vulture with the Merry Band, so I think we’ll have to be careful.”

  “Jolly good,” Shoulders muttered without much enthusi
asm as he inspected the thin scars that were all that remained of the non-Narrative damage he’d suffered the night before. “But how the hell are we supposed to get up Bandit Pass and into the mountains in broad daylight without being spotted?”

  “I have had one thought.” Flirt pursed her lips as she clinched the pack closed. “I snuck up to the edge of the woods and took a quick peek into the village. It’s almost completely empty—just a couple of Urchins knocking about and Tumble and Dunny guarding the edge of the trees. Sneaking past them shouldn’t be too much of a challenge, and if we can get back to the inn, they’ve parked up the princess’s ambush carriage in the stable yard. That’d get us up into the mountains fairly sharpish.”

  “Flirt.” Shoulders spoke slowly and with a distinct hint of irritation. “I’ve seen that carriage. It’s got a broken wheel.”

  “They’ve fixed it, haven’t they, you prat!” The insult was matter-of-fact. “They had to, to get it down off the pass. They’re waiting for Sentinel and his team to come back before it gets returned to the Magnificent City. Nobody’s watching it—Strut’s dragged the poor coachman out into the woods to search for us.”

  Shoulders was still glowering slightly in the wake of newly acquired prat-hood. “And we can’t just take the horses and ride them because…?”

  “Horses are easier for The Narrative to mess with, aren’t they?” Flirt pulled a face. “One touch and you’d be thrown or tossed in a ditch or sent off in another direction. But a whole team of horses should be much harder to interfere with. It’ll take more time to turn them all or make them veer off, and that time could make the difference between us getting caught and escaping.” The look she gave Shoulders was slightly reproachful. “I did think this through, you know!”

  But Fodder could see one major drawback immediately. “That coach is very distinctive. They’ll spot it a mile off.”

  “Not in the mountains, they won’t, will they?” Flirt, it seemed, had made up her mind. “We’ll dump it off a cliff once we get near to the Trapper Station and let the horses go. It’s just a means to an end. A way to get out of the area in a hurry.” She glanced at Shoulders with a sudden smile. “Plus, it means Shoulders won’t have to hoist her Royal Wriggliness around for a while.”