“Glop,” said Denholm, which probably wasn’t an answer to anything.
“I suppose an alchemist might know where to get this stuff,” mused Anya, after a moment’s thought. “They might even have some of it in stock … ”
“Where is there an alchemist?” asked Ardent.
“There might be one in Rolanstown,” Anya answered hesitantly. Going on a Quest was all very well, but there were numerous practical difficulties. Rolanstown was the closest settlement of any size, but she had heard it was lawless and dangerous, like most towns in the former High Kingdom of Yarrow. And she might not have enough money to buy ingredients. The enameled snuffbox with the diamonds was probably very valuable but Anya knew it would be difficult to get a fair price for it.
Besides the dangers of the town, they would need food and shelter every night, and would have to protect themselves not only from whoever or whatever Duke Rikard sent after them, but also the usual bandits, brigands, robbers, thieves, cutthroats, kidnappers, monsters, strange creatures, stranger creatures, and impossibly strange creatures that infested the countryside beyond and between the remnant kingdoms. Without the High King and the knights, constables, and wardens of Yarrow, the roads and byways between the small kingdoms had not been safe for decades.
Anya knew a few spells that would be useful, and Ardent was a trained fighting dog with a brave heart. But even so, this Quest might well end with both of them dead, enslaved, or seriously hurt.
But at least it offered hope. Staying home offered only transformation, or certain death on the way to school in Tarwicce.
“It’s as good a place to start as any, and it’s in the right general direction for Gornish as well,” Anya decided. “We will go to Rolanstown!”
“Where is it?” asked Ardent. He spun around in a circle, ready to go in any direction in an instant.
“West,” said Anya confidently. She liked maps and had looked at lots of them in the library. She had yet to learn that a knowledge of maps, some drawn long ago and of dubious authority, is only the first step in actually knowing how to get somewhere. “Here, I’ll show you.”
She found a patch of bare earth nearby and began to draw with her finger.
“We’re here, in Trallonia,” she said. “Rolanstown lies beyond Trallon Forest … there is a good path through there, so we won’t be getting into the ancient parts of the wood. Then I suppose we take what used to be the Royal Road that runs between Rolanstown and Edremorn, over the downs. From Rolanstown we would continue west towards the coast, and I think Gornish is somewhere here, to the north of Yarrow the City.”
She thought for a moment, then dug her finger in again several times to indicate more points of interest.
“One of the older maps said something like ‘Demesne of the Good Wizard’ here,” she said. “And I seem to remember a Blasted Heath around here. Bound to be lots of witches. I suppose I might have to get half a dozen crying to get a pint. That’s not going to be easy.”
“How far is it from here to there?” asked Ardent, indicating their current position and then Rolanstown with his nose.
“Two days’ walk to Rolanstown, I think,” said Anya. “We’ll have to find somewhere safe tonight, to sleep. We’ll still be in the forest then.”
“I like the forest!” exclaimed Ardent. “We c-c-can go hunting!”
“No,” said Anya. “We must try to be quiet and not draw attention to ourselves. Remember, Tanitha said the Duke will send enemies against us, and there are other dangers. You have to remember this. Quiet and careful at all times!”
“Quiet and c-c-careful at all times!” barked Ardent back at her, very loudly. Then, realizing what he had done, he repeated himself in a growling whisper. “I mean, quiet and c-c-careful, yes, Princess.”
Anya nodded. She packed Gotfried’s book with the other things in her bundle, picked it up, and swung it over her shoulder, then bent to lift Denholm in his frog basket.
“I’ll cut a staff in the forest to balance this lot on,” she said.
“I c-c-can c-c-arry the bag,” Ardent volunteered, jumping up at her. “I c-c-can c-c-arry it!”
Anya considered just how much dog slobber would soak through the silk if Ardent carried the makeshift bag all the way through the forest to the road. But it would also make him be quiet. He meant well, she knew, and would try to remember to be quiet. But he was still not much more than a puppy.
“All right, you take the bag,” she said, and handed it down. Ardent latched on with a snap. Anya winced as she thought of a new hole in her second-best kirtle, but let it go.
After all, a Quest was not supposed to be easy.
By the time they reached the fringe of the forest two hours later, Anya had formed even more definite views on the hardships of Quests and was missing the cool quiet of the library. She had decided to stay off the road, but that had meant going through the fields by whatever farmer’s tracks she could find, and they were winding and muddy, and the grass was destined to be hay in another month, so was already neck-high and annoying. If the field was pasture rather than grass then there were sheep, which meant she had to avoid treading on small pyramids of round droppings everywhere and also constantly remind Ardent he was not to go off and herd the sheep together. (He’d never had the chance to do so, and was quite eager to try.)
The sun was also high, and hot, and the frog basket was difficult to carry. All these things made Anya quite cross and irritable, so when they did reach the forest she almost plunged into the cool shade under the trees without looking. But fortunately her deep common sense made her stop and think about things before going on.