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No, she was not on Earth. She was somewhere else entirely. Where? The trees
and flowers and plants had looked earthlike enough, but they were also
different somehow. She d seen no maples, but something that looked like an
oak. That was it as far as her tree-knowledge went. The sun had looked like
the sun, and she wasn t about to get up to look at the moon.
The crickets sounded like crickets. Some help there. Maybe this was Earth, but
the past. No, Linda had said nothing about traveling in time.
She wondered if she would ever see her world again.
Through the window, the sky was gray. It was morning. She marveled that she
had actually fallen asleep. How long had she slept? What about & ?
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Castle MurdersJohn
DeChanciee-reads2002Texttext/html0-7592-6266-7en-usen-usCopyright © 1994 by
John DeChancie{59FFE082-6408-11
She rolled over. A tall man was standing over her. She threw the sacks off and
jumped to her feet.
The man sized her up. Apprehensively, she did the same to him.
He was young, about twenty-five, with a light beard and hazel eyes. He had on
a hooded doublet and cape and wore high boots. A cross-hilted sword in an
ornate scabbard hung at his left side.
He said something, and for some reason she understood him, though he hadn t
spoken English. He had said, So you are a woman. You dress like a boy.
He eyed her up and down. Not a bad woman at that. Young. Run away from your
parents?
No, she said. Then: I m lost. Can you help me?
The man frowned. He didn t understand. She couldn t understand why the
comprehension was one-way.
A foreigner, eh? He took a step toward her, and she edged back against the
wall.
He stopped, smiling. You ve got nothing to fear from me, he said. He had
something in his hand. It looked like a brownie or a piece of sheet cake. He
was offering it to her.
She took it. It smelled okay, and she took a bite. It was chewy and tasted
like an oatmeal cookie with ginger and cinnamon. It was good. She smiled at
him.
Yes, break your fast, because you ve got to be on your way. My kindly
half-brother s paladins are close on my heels, and they leave no unprotected
woman unravished.
He laughed, more or less to himself. Why am I telling you this? You don t
understand, and their having at you might be all the diversion I need to get
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clean away. I know they won t pass one like you by. You even have all your
teeth.
She understood all of it. The language sounded like Scots, burred and
broad-voweled, but with a hint of something like French in it. Anglo-Saxon?
No, she remembered what that had sounded like; the prof for
EARLY ENG LIT, as her class schedule printout had put it, was given to
dramatic readings of
Beowulf
and other incunabula. This was different. Medieval French? Maybe, but she
doubted it.
Come along, then. He went down the rickety ladder to the ground floor. She
followed.
Outside, she watched him saddle his horse. The tack was of a type totally
unfamiliar to her; it looked unwieldy and not at all comfortable. The horse
was a chestnut mare and had a long flowing mane.
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Castle MurdersJohn
DeChanciee-reads2002Texttext/html0-7592-6266-7en-usen-usCopyright © 1994 by
John DeChancie{59FFE082-6408-11
He mounted. Well, then, girl, it s farewell. I d advise you to be on your
way. You re a pretty wench, and I d like you for myself, but I don t intend to
be caught with my breeches down. God go with you.
Wait!
He halted. What is it?
Take me with you.
His brow lowered, but he appeared to understand. I think not. Much as I d
like to have my bedding warmed, you d be a millstone round my neck.
I m lost. Please help me. I have no one else to turn to.
He scowled. What a strange tongue you speak. Sounds like a mallard in heat.
Whereabouts do you
He suddenly looked off, his expression tightening.
Damn them. They usually lie slugabed.
He turned back to her. He extended a hand.
Come on, girl. Hurry.
She clambered up and took a precarious seat on the animal s rump, circling her
arms around the man s waist.
The horse headed down the trail and away from the stream, first at a trot,
then a walk, then breaking into a canter. She found the canter easier on her
backside than the trotting. The horse s hard bony spine knifed between her
buttocks. It hurt. She wondered how long she could ride like this.
Hoofbeats behind. The man gave a quick look back, then heeled the horse into a
full run.
They plunged headlong through the woods. Melanie held on desperately, but
there was little riding experience in her background. She had no idea of how
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