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that?”
    “To save space.”
    “You are a member of the family, are you
not?”
    “Yes, but I’m just a girl, and I’m young. I
haven’t had a chance to do anything grand or impressive that would
warrant entombing me in a place of honor. Our family has had that
crypt for at least a dozen generations and there have been a lot of
us. It’s getting pretty full.”
    “But you are Lord Capillaries’ only
daughter.”
    “I am the only child of his current wife,
true. But my mother is his fourth wife and I am his sixteenth
daughter.”
    “I see.”
    “Now that I think about it,” she continued.
“I don’t think that I would want to wake up in that crypt anyway.
It’s got to be pretty rank in there, and there is always the
possibility of zombie attacks.”
    “Yes, I forgot about zombies.”
    “The only people who can afford to forget
about zombies are those people with no brains.”
    “That is true,” I agreed. “I suppose we
could plan to have your body sequestered somewhere else.”
    “And here’s another thing,” she said. “What
if your message doesn’t get to my beloved in time? Suppose he hears
about me dying before he finds out about your plan. He might do
something rash—like hurt himself.”
    “He wouldn’t do that would he?”
    “He might. He’s very passionate.”
    “He’s passionate enough to kill
himself?”
    “Oh yes. He thinks about it all the
time.”
    “So what do you propose?” I asked.
    “Why don’t we climb on your horse and you
just give me a ride to Oordport, where I can meet beautiful, sweet
Henri and live together with him there.”
    “Well, it is not nearly so poetical a plan
as mine,” said I. “But I will do it.”

Chapter Fifteen: Wherein we are accosted on
the road to Oordport.

    The three of us rode down the road to
Oordport: myself, the lovely Megara Fennec, and my valiant steed
Hysteria, which is to say my horse. Night had fallen, and while one
could caution that it is a very good idea not to set out from one
city to another in the dead of night, but to take a room at an inn
and start instead the next day, I have seldom been one to follow a
good idea. It was a day and a half ride from Antriador to Oordport
and I wanted to make it there and back within three days. My play
was no doubt in difficulty without a lead actress, though she did
have an understudy, and I wanted to put things right, and maybe
even settle with Myolaena Maetar before Ellwood Cyrene returned
from Auksavl in five days.
    “So what gave you the idea to act in my
play?” I asked the lovely young woman who was pressed up against my
back. “Other than hearing that my actress had been turned into a
tree, I mean.”
    “I read a review of The Ideal Magic in the
local broadsheet.”
    “Really? What did it say?”
    “Well…”
    “Come on girl, and tell me. We writers are a
thick-skinned lot.”
    “It said that your play was made of big
words on small matters.”
    “What a most excellent review,” said I.
    “It is a terrible review.”
    “No, it is a wonderful review. Big words on
small matters. Why, that is exactly how I write.”
    We rode all through the night. Hysteria
having been well fed and watered the previous day was more than
happy to clop along at a leisurely pace. After a while our
conversation lagged however and I dozed off in my saddle. You might
wonder that this is possible—falling asleep and sleeping while
riding. I do it all the time. In fact, it is probably my single
best equestrian skill, which is to say thing I can do on a horse.
Unknown to me at the time was that Miss Fennec had dozed off as
well. While no doubt far less skilled than me at horsemanship, she
was pressed against me so tightly and had her arms wrapped around
me so well, that she didn’t fall off either. Neither of us even
knew we were asleep until we were awakened by a shout.
    “Stop knave, and prepare to meet your
maker!”

Chapter Sixteen: Wherein hot blood is
spilled.

    Now might be a good time to