"That must have taken an immense amount of doing, making up all those riddle lists," Siegfried said, and shook his head. "I don't know how they did it. I don't know how I managed to get through it. That was one of the hardest things I've ever done, and I think if I had known in advance what we were going to do, I'd have packed up and left before trying. My brain feels worse than when Norbert dented my helm."
"Well, if nothing else would have convinced me that the Queen is the Godmother, this did. The only way you could do something like that is by magic. There weren't enough clerks in the entire Palace to have found and written up that many lists of riddles and never repeat one." Leopold drained his beer and signaled for another, then reached for a handful of the salted, toasted grain in a bowl parked between them. "And although no one said this out loud, I think we all know that the only reason to do it that way is to make sure no one cheated."
Siegfried chuckled at the idea of any one of the Princes knowing the runic alphabet in which the language of Drachenthal was written, much less the language itself. "I haven't seen that much of my own script written out at one time, ever. I think that test was bigger than every book in all of Drachenthal."
Leopold smirked at that; the very few times he'd seen Siegfried write something down, he hadn't been able to make head nor tail of how you were supposed to hold the paper, and never mind what was written on it.
"I supposed that eventually there would be a riddle contest, but I thought it would be just one fiendishly difficult riddle." Siegfried sighed. "And I thought it was going to be recited to us. I never thought I would spend a whole day answering puzzle after puzzle after puzzle." He rubbed his head. "Well, that's over. We might not have proved we're scholars, but we proved we aren't fools, either."
"I wonder how many of us were knocked out." Leopold sighed. "I saw quite a few long faces, and I think there are going to be more empty guest rooms tomorrow. Too much to hope one of them is Desmond."
Siegfried shook his head. "Not unless someone stole his paper and substituted another. He's smarter than he has any right to be."
"He's certainly smarter than I am," Leopold grumbled. "I couldn't get him to play cards with me."
The next day, there were, indeed, a few new empty guest rooms in the Palace, and there was no announcement of the next contest. It was one of those hot summer days that threatened rain without actually producing it, making people restless and listless at the same time.
Leopold managed to find himself a card game at last, and proceeded to fleece some of the other Princes.
At loose ends, Siegfried decided that, although he and Leopold were helping each other as much as they could within the competitions, there was nothing binding them to do so outside of the competitions. If there was any way he could manage to bring himself to the Princess's attention, well — it might not help him in the contests, but it certainly wouldn't hurt.
And he decided that Desmond was entirely too good at getting and holding the Princess's attention during the evening. It was time to do something for himself, without Leopold.
He resolved to get her attention in a different way, and maybe a way Desmond wouldn't think of. As always, when he needed to think something out, he took a long, solitary walk. By this time, he knew the Palace as well as any of the servants did, and there were plenty of places where most people didn't go.
He just followed the lack of noise while he walked.
And after due consideration, guided in no small measure by the fact that, while he had been raised by aunts, those aunts had given him most of his early training in fighting, he thought he had a good idea. And when Siegfried spotted the Princess alone except for her guards in an obscure hallway, he decided he was going to see if he couldn't give her something new to think about, as well.
The only reason he was here was because this hall was on the most shaded side of the Palace, for it led to a portrait gallery, and portraits were notorious for fading in sunlight. That meant it was cool — a good place for pacing. She was passing by the stairs going up to the gallery. He wasn't at all sure why she was there, but he was going to take advantage of it.
He bounded down the stairs and intercepted her, bowing comically, since he knew he couldn't do so gracefully. Her two guards first looked startled, then relaxed when they saw who it was. "Princess Rosamund!" he exclaimed. "Are you busy?"
She gave him an odd look and a raised eyebrow at his casual manner. Desmond was always formal, so Siegfried had decided to be the opposite. "I'm always busy," she replied warily. "Do you need something?"
"Some of your time." He looked the guards over for a moment. Stout fellows, yes, but from the way they stood — they'd had nothing but standard training. And they were woefully relaxed in his presence. That was a mistake. "Well let me — "
Just as he had been taught, he went from an unthreatening stance to a blur of action in the blink of an eye. The only thing that slowed him down was knowing that he didn't want to do anything permanent to either of these boys. He could, all too easily, leave them with broken bones or worse if he wasn't careful. A sweep of the leg knocked the feet of the one nearest him right out from under him so that he fell heavily to the ground, and a follow-up kick to the chin took him out.
" — show you — "
He grabbed the first one's pike — a stupid weapon in a hallway! — and rushed the second, pinning his arms to the wall with it at the elbows. Now he couldn't reach Siegfried or his weapons. Bar-fighting tactics, yes, but also the no-moves-barred style of his own people.
" — what I mean."
He felt the Princess behind him, and wondered if she was staring at him in shock.