Read Online Chance by Nancy Springer - Free Book Online Page B

night.
    â€œYou shall not have her!” Chance shouted wildly at him.
    â€œBut she is already ours! One of us! Let her go! You are hurting her.”
    It was true; his heart smote him, knowing it was true. “And you,” he railed, “gentle one, have never done hurt.”
    â€œNot to my own kind!”
    â€œGo away!” Chance roared. But the Denizen came closer, his look grave.
    â€œChance, the child belongs to us. She has suckled on our sap. Many of us gave up their lives for her sake, drained dry. Noble was their willing sacrifice, for we need not die.”
    The words only made Chance clutch the child more fiercely. “And why do you want her?” he challenged.
    â€œFor the wellbeing of our race! We do not die, but—listen to me! We become rootbound, voiceless, with age. We become immobile, like trees. If we did not quicken our blood from time to time—”
    â€œSo you want her for breeding.” Harsh anger in the words. The Denizen creased his brow at the sound of them.
    â€œShe will not be unwilling, believe me! Chance, if it will comfort you, I will give you a promise to cherish her as my own. She will be my bride.”
    Iantha stretched out her arms toward the woodland prince and gave a gulping wail. Chance swore, suddenly blind with anger.
    â€œYou cockproud buck!” He snatched up a butchering knife from the table and hurled it. Startled, the Denizen dodged, and the knife clattered against the stone.
    â€œOut!” Chance raged. A cooler fury answered his own in eyes the color of woodland shade.
    â€œMany have been the favors you have asked from us. You were told that you would pay someday.”
    â€œTake your payment some other way!”
    â€œWe have already taken it. Iantha will come to us. Her hands will grow clever enough to tear off that rag you have tied around her—”
    â€œOut!” Chance roared, and he drew his dagger. But luminous eyes met his, and he found he could not lift it. After a long moment, the Denizen prince turned and at his leisure took his leave.
    Iantha did not cease to weep until morning. Chance held her close to his heart, and his heart wept with her.
    When summer was waning toward autumn, the leaves not yet yellowing but the nights growing chill, the rebels formed their line of siege around the fortress. Their numbers were large, for nearly every man of the demesne stood among them, as well as outlaw rebels venturing from their refuges in the penetralia of Wirral. And few were the servants or warriors who remained at Roddarc’s side.
    After dark of that night, a starlit night of the dark of the moon, Halimeda slipped out through the postern gate and walked toward the rebel lines. Once again she went robed in black, but this time she wore it proudly, and the long flow of her dark hair was starred like the night with small gems. A larger brooch of silver and ivory pinned her mantle, shining like the missing moon.
    At the points of polite spears, the rebel sentries took her to be seen by their leader.
    Halimeda was very calm. Her child was safe with Chance. She had come to offer herself to the rebel leader for wedding, so that he would not be obliged to kill her on the morrow, and she expected him, whoever he was, to accept her offer. She could only hope that the man would not be utterly a lout.… A bleak prospect for one who had dreamed of love, but Halimeda faced it with wintery calm.
    Her calm deserted her when she and the sentries reached the campfire where men drew lines in the dirt. The leader of the renegades was a broad-shouldered, blunt-featured man in jackboots and leathers. The heavy hobnailed boots of a war leader, but instead of a sword he wore a bow, and he held a child by his side. Dagger in his hand, stabbing the earth; he laid it down when he saw her.
    â€œYou!” she exclaimed.
    Chance came and put Iantha into her arms.
    â€œLady,” he said, “take the little one to the lodge