Chapter 4: Disguise

Princess Ashaia was dimly aware that someone was gently bathing her aching head with a damp cloth. She bit back a moan as splinters of pain lanced back and forth behind her closed eyes. They had been riding up the winding trail on the back of a hurrying gronch when there'd been a terrifying scream from up ahead. The gronch had bolted, throwing them off, and that was all that she could remember.

"Bort?" She squinted painfully up at the handsome face that gazed perplexedly down at her. "You're not Bort. Where is he?"

"Dead," was the somber reply. "He died protecting you."

"Who are you?" She gasped with pain as she tried to sit up.

"My name's Shantar. Of the High Hills," he added. "And just who are you? You're no priest, or priestess. Neither was your... companion."

She colored at the unvoiced implication, but her voice was steady. "My name is Ashaia." She gazed up at him, defiantly, as though expecting a violent reaction.

"Ashaia? Pretty name, to go with a pretty face, but it means nothing to me. Where were you heading, and why the disguise?"

With an impatient quirk of her lips, she dismissed his ignorance of her identity. "We were heading for Talai. I have to get there as quickly as possible. The disguise? We thought it best not to be known."

"You could have picked a safer disguise. There are far too many men in these hills who would like nothing better than to put an arrow through any green robe they see. I'm with a caravan that's heading for Talai. Maybe we can take you with us."

"In return for what?" She gazed up at him steadily enough, but a wave of pink suffused her golden cheeks.

"By the Gods, girl!" Shantar's laugh boomed out unchecked. "You have a low opinion of hill men. Wild we may be, but I've never had to force a woman yet. Now, up on your feet, and make sure nothing's too badly bent." He grinned wickedly. "I've already made sure that nothing was broken."

Now her face was red to the very hair line, but she allowed him to help her to her feet. Shantar was surprised to see that she was only a half a head shorter than he. She was taller than most men in the land of Kath, and her hand in his had an unexpected strength. She swayed slightly, one hand pressed tightly to her aching head, but she was able to walk unaided. Catching sight of the sprawled body of her companion, she knelt at his side.

"Sleep well, old friend of my childhood," she murmured softly. "You shall not be forgotten in this land."

Shantar watched as she unstrapped a small bundle from the harness of the dead gronch. She walked back to where he waited, looking at him out of deep green eyes under level black brows. Looked at him as one man might look at another.

"Let us be on our way, Shantar of the High Hills. I can ride or walk, as you see fit to command."

Shantar smiled grimly. At least, she was no fainting child of the cities. "You will do some of both. My pony is lame, but he can carry you for a ways."

With Ashaia riding his pony or striding lightly at his side they made good time, but he was not surprised when they reached the main trail to find that the caravan had already passed them by.

"Can we catch up with them?"

"Easily, as long as we don't run into any bandits, but I'm trying to figure out how to get you into the caravan without attracting any attention. We have no women with us, and..." he snapped his fingers. "That's it! One of the gronch drivers lost his helper to a bandit attack a while back. Maybe you can take his place."

They hiked swiftly up the winding trail, cutting across wide loops where it wound back and forth seeking an easier gradient, and they soon caught sight of the caravan. At Shantar's suggestion, Ashaia discarded the full green robe, revealing a scanty tunic of silvery gray fabric.

"You'll never pass for a boy in that," he chuckled, drawing a dimpled smile in return. "I'll have to get you some other clothes."

They cut across another loop of the trail, climbing steeply to reach a point well ahead of the caravan. Hiding her in what he hoped was a safe place, he swung onto his pony and rode slowly to meet the wagons.

"Shantar!" A rider galloped to meet him. "You made it! I was about to come looking for you."

"Sure, I made it," he returned Ch'Wing's salutation. "How's your brother?"

"He'll be fine. Better check in with Balik. He's been worrying about you."

"In a bit. I've got something to do first." He rode to where Gortai's wagon rolled along in the middle of the line.

"So, you did get through!" the older man greeted him. "I kept telling them you were too mean to die so young."

"Let's hope you're right," Shantar answered, laughing. "say, you still got the stuff that belonged to your helper?"

"Sure do, it's in the back of the wagon. What's up?"

Shantar was already off his pony and into the back of the wagon. He jumped back out with a loose bundle of clothes under his arm, and swung easily back into the saddle.

"I'll be right back." He trotted his limping pony back to where the spare horses were loose herded. Choosing a stout looking pony, he quickly changed his gear over and galloped back up the trail, waving a salute to the impatient Balik as he rode past. Within minutes, he reappeared, trotting easily back down the trail with a smaller figure riding double behind him.

"Ho, Gortai! I've found a helper for you. He's young, but he's strong and willing to work."

"Well, you look healthy enough, young fellow. What's your name?"

"Asshan," Ashaia answered, readily.

"I guess you'll do, even if you're a bit young for this kind of life. Why, you haven't even started to grow hair on your... face..." His voice trailed off, and his slanted eyes grew wide as he stared up at the strange youth. "You... your Highness!" he whispered. "What are you doing here?"

"Highness?" Shantar echoed.

"Her Royal Highness, Princess Ashaia!" Gortai emphasized. "King Khamul's sister! You mean, you didn't recognize her?"

"He didn't, and I don't want anyone else to, either," she snapped. "There are too many people around who would like to find me, and keep me from getting back to Talai."

"I think we can take care of that," Shantar reassured her. "There is a bush that grows in these hills. Its root makes a very good dye. Tonight, while I'm on guard, I can gather some. We'll make your face about six shades darker than it is now. Your hands, too. Now, get into Gortai's wagon and stay out of sight for the rest of the day."

He was as good as his words, and shortly after midnight he climbed into the back of the wagon with a small clay pot in his hand, and a whispered, "Ashaia? It's me, Shantar."

"It's a good thing you said something." Her whisper carried more than just a hint of malicious mirth. "You almost collected a sharp knife in what I'm sure would be a most tender spot."

"I've brought the dye." He shrugged off her statement. "Let me open the back flap enough to let in a little light."

Ashaia had shed her rough outer clothes, and was once more clad in the scanty tunic she had worn under her priestly robes. The Great Moon had risen, and although it was two ten days until it would be full, it was bright enough to shed a clear radiance over the scene. Ashaia's arms and legs seemed to glow with a golden light in the dusk.

"Let me see what you've brought."

Her voice broke the sudden spell that was on him, and he wordlessly handed her the little pot. She prodded at its contents with one slender finger, wrinkling her nose at its spicy smell. She spread it liberally over her face and neck, rubbing it in behind her ears and up into her hairline. Scooping more of it out, she worked it into her hands and arms, then rubbed it on her feet and ankles and up as far as her knees.

"How is that?" Her voice was cool, amused.

"Very nice indeed," he answered, grinning appreciatively. "Now, take a rag and rub it smooth, and nobody'll ever know you."

"How long will it last?" She wrinkled her nose at him.

"A couple of ten days, but it should be renewed sooner, so that it isn't too noticeable. The shrub grows just about everywhere in these hills, and I'll gather some more of the roots to take along with us. Just don't let anyone else see you in that tunic."

"I must say, you take my being a princess rather casually." She tossed the remark out off handedly, but there was a note in her voice that made him smile fleetingly in the semi darkness.