“She saw the red lights,” Carol said. She didn’t want Mommy to get in trouble with Lord Kafir. “It scared her.”
“Red scares a lot of people,” he said, smoothing his ugly clothes. Was that why he wore them? To scare people?
The guards looked at each other, like they didn’t like any of this.
Ms. Hanaday shook her head.
“Pay the lady her three weeks and get them out of here,” Lord Kafir said to her. “And wash your hands. You’re a mess.”
“Yes, sir,” Ms. Hanaday said, but Lord Kafir was already hurrying down the hall.
The guards had lowered their weapons.
Ms. Hanaday ran a hand through her hair, making a streak of chocolate on the side of her face. It looked a little like poo.
Carol tried not to giggle.
“You know that this is all just war games,” Ms. Hanaday said.
“Sure,” Mommy said.
“Pretend stuff,” Ms. Hanaday said.
“Yeah,” Mommy said.
“None of it means anything,” Ms. Hanaday said.
“I know,” Mommy said.
“I’ll get your check,” Ms. Hanaday said, “and meet you at the door.”
“Okay,” Mommy said.
Ms. Hanaday hurried off after Lord Kafir. The guards just stared after her.
“I don’t like this,” one said to the other.
Mommy picked Carol up like she was a baby. “We’re going, honey.”
Carol swallowed the last of the cookie. Cookies were yucky without milk. “Okay,” she said.
Mommy hurried down the hall, a different way than everybody else went. It only took a few minutes to get to the door.
Ms. Hanaday was already there, holding a long piece of paper. It had to be a check. Mommy snatched it, then said thanks in a kinda rude voice, and then hurried out the door.
Nobody stopped them. In the movies, somebody would’ve stopped them. ’Specially the way Mommy was breathing, like she was all scared and stuff.
Carol wasn’t scared. Carol was glad to be outside where the sun was bright and the air smelled really good. She stretched. She wanted down. She wanted to run, but Mommy held tight all the way to the car.
They backed up and headed out of the parking lot, driving really, really fast.
“If you want a nap,” Mommy said, “close your eyes.”
“Where’re we going?” Carol asked.
“Far away,” Mommy said.
“Can we get my blankie?”
“Maybe,” Mommy said. That meant no. Carol sighed. She hated no. But not as much as she hated that place.
“What’s far away?” Carol asked.
“Good guys,” Mommy said.
Carol smiled. This was how it was supposed to go. She leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. But she couldn’t sleep. Mommy was driving really bad. Fast like in the movies. Tires squealing. Going around corners on two wheels, stuff like that.
Mommy’d been watching Carol play too many games.
Carol opened her eyes. They were on a road outta town. Carol’d never been outta town before. This was kinda cool.
“Mommy?”
“Hmm?” Mommy said in that don’t-bother-me voice.
“Am I average?”
“I hope so, honey,” Mommy said. “In fact, I’m praying that you are.”
“Because average kids beat the game?” Carol asked.
“And that means it’s easy,” Mommy said.
It didn’t seem easy. It was just dumb. But Carol didn’t say that. She closed her eyes again. She didn’t care about numbers and weird letters and computers. Or bad guys like Lord Kafir. They could be scary, but they always lost in the end.
At least she got part of what she wanted. She got a cookie. She got outta there.
And now-finally-she was gonna take a nap.
A WOMAN’S WORK… by Tanya Huff
It was obvious that the man outside the city wall was a Hero. His plain but serviceable armor-armor that had obviously seen several campaigns-did nothing to hide the breadth of his shoulders, the narrowness of his hips, or the long and muscular length of his legs. His hair gleamed gold under the edges of his helmet and even from her viewing platform on the top of the wall, Queen Arrabel could tell his eyes were a clear sky blue with the direct, unwavering gaze of an honorable man.
Over his left arm, he wore a simple unadorned shield, designed to deflect blows, not to support his ego by announcing his family ties to the world. In his right hand, he carried a sword. It looked like a hand-and-a-half, double-edged broadsword although he was so mighty a warrior he made it seem small. She could just make out a heavy gold ring on the second finger of his right hand. It was the only jewelry he wore.
“Prince Danyel!” He called, his voice clear and carrying. “Come out and face me. Let you and I settle the animosity between our two peoples! There is no need for war; we will fight man to man! He who wins our conflict will decide all!”
The queen raised her own voice enough to be heard by her people standing along the wall. “A gold coin to the archer who puts one in his eye.”
For an instant there was the sound like buzz of a hundred wasps.
Then a sound like a sudden hard rain on a slate roof.
Then silence.
Leaning a little past the battlement to get a better line of sight, the queen smiled. “Nice grouping, archers. Well done. Wallace!”
“Majesty!” Her personal aide leaped forward.
“Go down and check the fletching on those arrows-it looks like we have at least three winners.” Her archers were her pride and joy, even though she knew she shouldn’t have favorites among her extensive armies. “Take a wizard with you to make sure he hasn’t been magically booby-trapped, then strip the body. Bring the armor and the ring to me, have the body cremated.”
“And his horse, Majesty?”
The beautiful black stallion standing just to the right of the gate stared up at her with intelligent eyes.
“Archers!”
“Mother! I wanted that horse!”
Arrabel sighed, turning to her son as the stallion whirled to escape and crashed dead to the ground, looking remarkably like a horse-shaped pincushion. “Horses don’t have intelligent eyes, Danyel. Nor are they able to determine who, in a group of people standing on top of a wall twenty feet over their heads, is in charge.”
Danyel frowned, dark brows almost meeting over his nose. “So the Hero knew I’d win and take his horse and the horse was to kill me later. The horse was enchanted and the Hero was a sacrifice.”
“I suspect the horse was no more than a backup plan. Heroes never think they’re going to lose.”
“I could have taken him.” At nearly twenty he was too old to pout but his tone was distinctly sulky.
She patted his arm as she passed. “Of course you could have. Captain Jurin.”
Almost overcome by adoration, clearly astounded that the queen knew his name, the captain stepped forward and saluted. “Majesty!”
“Send out a couple of patrols to make sure this Hero didn’t leave one of those annoying sidekicks skulking about in the bushes.”
“Yes, Majesty.”
On the way back to the palace, she smiled and waved and noted how pleased everyone her son’s age and younger was to see her. The free schooling she provided for her subjects until the age of twelve was paying off-it was so much easier to teach children how to think than it was to change their minds as adults. A strong apprenticeship program helped too. Idle hands found time for mischief and nothing straightened out a young troublemaker faster than twelve hours of hauling stone. City walls didn’t build themselves, after all.
It pleased her too to see so many babies around. Young men who tried to get out of the responsibilities of fatherhood were sent to the mines and their very fair wages were paid entirely to the mother of their child. Fatherhood seemed a good deal in comparison. And the sort of man that might succeed at rebellion soon thought better of it when he became responsible for the care and feeding of six or seven screaming children-said children guaranteed schooling and employment should the status quo be maintained.