actually laughing out loud, Max let her go and she collapsed to the floor, holding her sides and trying to draw in enough air to take a deep breath.
“I didn’t think it was that funny.”
“I’m so sorry, really, my deepest apologies, it’s just,” she took another deep breath. The laughter faded slowly, but it did fade. “That isn’t at all what I expected you to say.”
“Which was?” Max held out his hand and drew her to her feet.
“I expected you to tell me what I was thinking.”
“Which was?” he repeated through clenched teeth.
The echo of her laughter reappeared for a moment on her face. “Oh, no, Bard you may be, or history teacher as you prefer, but you don’t get my thoughts as easily as that. When we reach safety, I said, and that’s what I meant.”
“You might reach safety a little faster, Truthsheart, if you were less noisy about it.”
One second Cassandra was facing him, smile fading on her face, the next she had her back to him, knees bent, sword drawn and point raised to eye level. Max tried to step around her—or at least beside her; whoever it was seemed ready to talk, after all—but no matter how he moved, she managed to stay in front of him.
The person coming toward them through the shadows created by the uneven lighting loomed grotesque and misshapen. A Gargantua that dwarfed a tunnel big enough to contain a subway train. Max couldn’t shake the chilling feeling that what he saw was actually an indescribable distance away, making the figure horribly larger than he could imagine. And yet, through some trick of perspective, the giant seemed to become smaller and less misshapen as it neared them. Until it stepped into the clear soft light cast by Cassandra’s armor and became much shorter than either Max or Cassandra. Became, in fact, a small boy, complete with beanie cap and skateboard.
Max shook his head. “I must be more tired than I thought,” he said.
“Are you well, Younger Sister?” The boy’s voice was the soft croak of a kid with a cold.
“A little startled, Elder Brother, but otherwise well, I thank you. I thank you also for the true warning you gave me.”
“You guys know each other?”
“This is the third time we have met,” Cassandra said.
“Third time lucky, so they say.” With those words the boy tilted his head to look at Max. “Like yourself, my lord Prince, I am not entirely what I seem.”
His voice deepened into gravel while he spoke, and by the end of the sentence the childlike seeming had fallen from the boy like a discarded cloak. Max took a step backward as the figure grew taller, wider, until it had to stoop, its shoulders pressing against the top of the subway tunnel. He was the pale gray of limestone, even his eyes, with only the pupils black, even the inside of his mouth, even his sharp teeth.
Troll, said a voice in Max’s head.
Max’s lungs felt tight, and then he remembered to breathe. Cassandra touched him on the arm, and he managed not to flinch.
“Max,” she said, “this is Diggory.”
Max managed to incline his head to the Troll’s shallow bow.
“How did you find us?” she said.
“Think where you are, Truthsheart. The Earth guides me.”
“And can they find us as well?”
Damn good question, Max thought, glad of something else to think about. Those were awfully sharp teeth.
“There are no Solitaries among them, but Those Who Hunt eventually find, and this time I think sooner rather than later. Knowing you make for the crossroads, they are already in the tunnels. I think you must use the Portal; they will not expect that.”
“I cannot take the Exile through the Portal,” Cassandra said. “The end of the Banishment may be near, but it is not ended. His life would be forfeit and mine as well.”
“His life’s forfeit here, if the Hunt has its way. Those Who Hunt will follow your Moves, but
“I didn’t think it was that funny.”
“I’m so sorry, really, my deepest apologies, it’s just,” she took another deep breath. The laughter faded slowly, but it did fade. “That isn’t at all what I expected you to say.”
“Which was?” Max held out his hand and drew her to her feet.
“I expected you to tell me what I was thinking.”
“Which was?” he repeated through clenched teeth.
The echo of her laughter reappeared for a moment on her face. “Oh, no, Bard you may be, or history teacher as you prefer, but you don’t get my thoughts as easily as that. When we reach safety, I said, and that’s what I meant.”
“You might reach safety a little faster, Truthsheart, if you were less noisy about it.”
One second Cassandra was facing him, smile fading on her face, the next she had her back to him, knees bent, sword drawn and point raised to eye level. Max tried to step around her—or at least beside her; whoever it was seemed ready to talk, after all—but no matter how he moved, she managed to stay in front of him.
The person coming toward them through the shadows created by the uneven lighting loomed grotesque and misshapen. A Gargantua that dwarfed a tunnel big enough to contain a subway train. Max couldn’t shake the chilling feeling that what he saw was actually an indescribable distance away, making the figure horribly larger than he could imagine. And yet, through some trick of perspective, the giant seemed to become smaller and less misshapen as it neared them. Until it stepped into the clear soft light cast by Cassandra’s armor and became much shorter than either Max or Cassandra. Became, in fact, a small boy, complete with beanie cap and skateboard.
Max shook his head. “I must be more tired than I thought,” he said.
“Are you well, Younger Sister?” The boy’s voice was the soft croak of a kid with a cold.
“A little startled, Elder Brother, but otherwise well, I thank you. I thank you also for the true warning you gave me.”
“You guys know each other?”
“This is the third time we have met,” Cassandra said.
“Third time lucky, so they say.” With those words the boy tilted his head to look at Max. “Like yourself, my lord Prince, I am not entirely what I seem.”
His voice deepened into gravel while he spoke, and by the end of the sentence the childlike seeming had fallen from the boy like a discarded cloak. Max took a step backward as the figure grew taller, wider, until it had to stoop, its shoulders pressing against the top of the subway tunnel. He was the pale gray of limestone, even his eyes, with only the pupils black, even the inside of his mouth, even his sharp teeth.
Troll, said a voice in Max’s head.
Max’s lungs felt tight, and then he remembered to breathe. Cassandra touched him on the arm, and he managed not to flinch.
“Max,” she said, “this is Diggory.”
Max managed to incline his head to the Troll’s shallow bow.
“How did you find us?” she said.
“Think where you are, Truthsheart. The Earth guides me.”
“And can they find us as well?”
Damn good question, Max thought, glad of something else to think about. Those were awfully sharp teeth.
“There are no Solitaries among them, but Those Who Hunt eventually find, and this time I think sooner rather than later. Knowing you make for the crossroads, they are already in the tunnels. I think you must use the Portal; they will not expect that.”
“I cannot take the Exile through the Portal,” Cassandra said. “The end of the Banishment may be near, but it is not ended. His life would be forfeit and mine as well.”
“His life’s forfeit here, if the Hunt has its way. Those Who Hunt will follow your Moves, but
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