The travelers stood looking at the angry duke, mouths agape. Four soldiers who had been riding in front of the carriage turned their horses back, and the great beasts pawed the ground and snorted restlessly while the soldiers stared at the duke and the travelers.

“Me?” Gregor asked, and automatically raised one hand to his chest. The ruby ring on his pinky glittered in the sun. The sight of it seemed to enrage the duke even further.

“Yes, you!” the duke screamed. “You stole my ring! Guards! Seize him!”

Two of the soldiers dismounted from their horses, and their companions held the reins while they carefully approached Gregor. The woodsman, meanwhile, was reaching behind him for his axe, when Maurice stopped him.

‘Not yet,” Maurice murmured, then cleared his throat. “Your highness,” he addressed the duke, “we have stolen no ring, but merely found it.”

“Oh, did you?” the duke said, sarcastically. “And where did you find it? In my royal treasury?”

“It was—in possession of a wraithlord,” Maurice said helplessly, and the duke laughed out loud.

“Oh, was it? Well, that’s a relief. I thought you were going to tell me you had fetched it from under the belly of a dragon! Ha!”

The soldiers laughed too, obediently.

“That’s enough!” the duke said. “Take him away!”

“But your highness,” Terry said.

The duke turned and stared at her. “Yes?” Then his face puckered in a puzzled expression. “Who are you? You look … familiar.”

Terry froze. She hadn’t seen the duke since her sixth birthday. He and his wife preferred to stay in their city, where they were the ultimate rulers, than to have to travel south and kowtow to the king. He was some kind of uncle or cousin to her—her mother would know the full relation. Some instinct told her it was not a good idea to reveal her identity at that moment, but what should she say?

Thankfully, the duke was too full of rage to be overly curious about the odd leather-and-chain-mail clad woman in front of him.

“Never mind!” he said, as the soldiers removed the ring from Gregor’s pinky, bound Gregor’s hands behind him and forced him to climb upon a horse at swordpoint. “The whole kingdom’s made up of royal by-blows of some form or another. Yes, thank you,” he added, as a soldier handed him the small treasure. “My ring.”

He turned it this way and that, and his anger disappeared into wonder.

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“It really is my ring,” he said, as the reflection of the jewel’s red light played upon his face. “How delightful,” he breathed. “How wonderful to have it back.”

And he disappeared back into his carriage. The soldier whose horse was now carrying the prisoner climbed onto the carriage, next to the driver, and in a cloud of dust, they were off. The whole thing took less than 15 minutes.

Terry and Maurice stared open mouthed as the royal carriage and its cadre of soldiers disappeared into the distance.

“Poor Gregor!” Terry said. “We have to rescue him!”

Maurice sighed. “Indeed,” he said. “But before we throw any golden balls, let’s try to go through official channels first. I’ll talk to Hemdale, explain everything. He might be able to convince the duke that the wraithlords have returned. News of the raids has not arrived yet. Others will be able to corroborate our story. We just have to be patient.”

“You mean Gregor has to be patient,” Terry said. “We’re still free!”

“And patience is not his virtue,” Maurice added. “Well, shall we run the rest of the way? Maybe I’ll let you think you can beat me again. You seemed to enjoy that.”

“Ha,” Terry said. “But yes, let’s run!”

They strapped their provisions down to them as tight as they could and began the fastest trot possible on the busy road, made even busier now by their proximity to the city. Terry let Maurice lead, and he skillfully zoomed around carts full of cabbages and crying babies, grand horsemen gallantly proceeding at a walk so as to accompany a lady’s carriage, gaggles of geese being brought to market. The filth of the road ceased to concern Terry—all she cared about was not slipping! When they finally reached the guards tower at the outer walls, both were huffing and dirty, but exhilarated.

Maurice led Terry away from the main tower, where the line to enter stretched far down the road, and instead ushered her to a small wooden door with a tiny barred window in the center. Maurice pulled at a string beside the door and presently a pair of black eyes peered at them from the shadows. Maurice made a quick comment in the old language and the door flew open, presenting them with the vision of a laughing young cleric, dressed in the long brown robe that they affected when they stayed in the abbey.

“Maurice! Welcome!” the merry young cleric said, and the two of them embraced joyfully. “But you’re not due for weeks!”

“Yes, but here I am, and with company to boot,” he said. “There’s trouble, Elwood. We’ve run all morning, and need refreshment.”

“Of course. Come in,” he said, and ushered the two of them into the cool, dark abbey. The walked down a long corridor made of stone, that opened suddenly into a vast room filled with long, rough-hewn tables. “Lunch is not for hours, but there’s a stew on the fire for visitors,” he said. Soon, Terry and Maurice were gobbling down a hearty rabbit stew, spiced with the exotic flavorings of the kingdom, and drinking cup after cup of cool well water. Elwood left them there, promising to alert the head cleric of their arrival.

“You know who would love this stew? Gregor,” Terry said, sadly.

“I was thinking that, too,” Maurice said.

“The duke—he’s not a bad man, from what I remember,” Terry said. “But if he thinks that Gregor stole such a precious possession—oh, Maurice! What if the duke doesn’t throw him in the dungeon? What if he just takes him back and—” Terry shuddered.

“He’ll want to stand him for some trial,” Maurice said, “just so he can rail at him a little more.”

“Oh, I hope so,” Terry said. “Maybe I should just tell him who I am.”

“I think you should,” Maurice said. “When the time is right. Not in front of every last traveler on a summer morning. Your role in this is—unique,” he admitted. “We have to be careful.”

“About what?” Terry said.

“Just—letting everyone know who you are,” he said. “There hasn’t been a warrior princess in a long time. There’s a—prophecy about you. Or someone like you. Do you want to know it?”