Chapter 48: Let It Begin.

Chapter 48: Chapter 48: Let It Begin.

It was a good thing that Khobi seemed not to have heard because Bongo was fairly certain that he’d have a couple of colourful suggestions for her.

An instant later, as if suddenly realising she’d said too much, the melancholy had vanished from her expression, and her green eyes were as bright and clear as a proper lady’s were always meant to be.

"Well, Captain, I best not keep you," she tittered, inclining her head to him, and then Montrel who had lingered where many of the other guards had departed with her father. Her smile was soft, and genuine, and knowing, and for a second, Bongo was struck by the uncanny resemblance to her father.

"I’m sure you have much to show Khobi. Ours is a big city after all, I’m sure he’ll find something to his liking."

"I have a few ideas, Your Highness," Bongo replied, just as cryptically.

"Excellent. Father will be pleased."

The corners of Bongo’s lips twitched up at the corners as she turned to take her leave once more.

"My men too, Your Highness."

"--What did she mean by that?" Khobi demanded, the instant the princess had swept from the room.

"Exactly what she said," Bongo replied stoically, beckoning for Montrel to approach. Khobi watched him carefully out of the corner of one eye, and made little attempt to hide a snort as the soldier limped forward with a trail of dirt and wafting feathers in his wake.

"...After all," he added, the corners of his lips creeping infinitesimally higher. "...It would be a shame for you to suddenly want to stay holed up in your room now that the locks are gone."

"Yeah, after all the fuckin’ fuss you made about being locked up," Montrel grizzled, wrinkling his nose at a disapproving look from his Captain. "What? It’s true," he snorted defensively, before suddenly becoming very wary of Bongo and his motives for holding him back.

"And no -- before you go gettin’ any ideas , the answer’s no . I know that look -- no. Gurder just said --you heard him, right?? We are off duty , Bongo. I am not babysittin’ this kid anymore!"

"Hey, I’m not a kid. And I’m standing right here ."

"I’m not ordering you to guard him," Bongo corrected patiently, "I’m asking you, to keep him out of trouble."

"Sounds a lot like guard duty to me," Montrel muttered under his breath.

"Yeah," Khobi grumbled accusingly.

"You’re not his prisoner," Bongo soothed, "But it’s easy to get lost here. Show him around would you, Montrel. Like Her Highness said, I’m sure he’ll find something to keep him occupied. Or somewhere."

For once, his meaning wasn’t lost on Montrel. It took its time getting there, cogs whirring as they turned, but when the message got through the soldier’s disgruntled scowl cracked into a broad, wicked grin.

"I know just the place, Captain."

The pure glee in Montrel’s face was a little concerning but Bongo decided to let it slide this once."...Don’t go causing trouble," he reminded him as Montrel let out a hearty bark of laughter and beat his fist against the butt of his sword in what could only be described as the kind of excitement a man gets just before dumping a bucket of cold water on his unsuspecting friend."Wouldn’t dream of it!" .

Montrel snickered, sauntering over to Khobi with a fresh perspective of his new assignment, "Gods know I can’t wait to see the look on Hasbar’s dumb mug...."It was strange thing to see, really, touching, even, and not seen nearly often enough, a soldier stalking up to the same man --his once prisoner --who’d he’d wrested to the ground more times than he could count --and doing so without fear, (and more impressively) without malice or hatred in his heart, and, with a daring grin on his face, offering him his hand."Whaddaya say, Khobi? Wanna go beat up some guards?"

...

"Father!"

Well, he’d managed to make it down almost two full corridors before she’d managed to catch him. A pity. One more and he’d have managed to elude her until lunch. Or at least until one of the servants sold him out. He wasn’t an idiot, the walls in Crade had ears and eyes everywhere for reasons, some of them good and some of them less so.

"Oh, good," he remarked sarcastically to Vogrid and kept walking. Unfortunately, so did his daughter, she had at some point developed a rather swift stride in the event that he wanted to avoid her. "We should have walked faster."

"Father, I know you can hear me."

Wilful wasn’t one of his preferred traits in a woman, and unfortunately one that Xena had inherited from her mother. It made her considerably more stubborn than he might’ve liked.

"Hmm, unfortunately," he sighed, resigning himself to his fate and slowing to a halt. "What did Khobi want?"

"To know if you were a liar," she huffed, glancing around hastily before unceremoniously dumping the hem of her skirts to the floor.

"And what did you tell him?" Gurdet inquired, feigning curiosity.

"...That you’ll keep your promises," she replied. "Are you going to make me a liar, father?" she persisted, "Do you really intend to find the Iron Heart?"

"I do," he assured her, turning to Vogrid for a rhetorical question, "Why is everyone so surprised?" Vogrid did not look in the least bit convinced.

"But father --" Xena pressed, more insistently this time as she lowered her voice like she didn’t wish for the walls to hear, "...If even Silas can’t find him --"

" --Sweet daughter ," Gurdet countered stonily, "I know you love to compare me to that spider, but I rather hate it when you do." There was a touch more venom in his words than he usually used with his daughter but it achieved the desired effect of stopping her doubtful little whispers dead in their tracks.

The audacity , lumping him in with Silas like they were in the same league of kings.

Thankfully, Xena had realised that her opinion on the matter was not welcome, and seemed wounded by the knowledge. Like all daughters snapped at by their fathers, she seemed diminished somewhat, and withdrew with eyes downcast to hide the hurt.

Definitely a shorter argument than he’d been anticipating, but that was never a bad thing. He waited expectantly to see if she was preparing another outburst but she seemed to have had quite enough of him for this morning, because instead of pressing the issue any further, she merely stooped, gathering up her skirts again to prepare for a huffy exit like scolded youth.

But of course, even retreating, she still had to try and get the last word.

"I hope you know what you’re doing."

(Well, that was a trait he couldn’t blame entirely on his wife.)

"I always do."

He watched her go, courteously stepped aside to deprive her the satisfaction of shouldering past, and made sure to smile at the wounded look she sent back at him. Vogrid’s gaze bored into the side of his head the whole way but it was only after she was out of sight and far from earshot that he spoke.

"She’s right," he announced flatly, probably about as pleased to say it as Gurdet was to hear it. "Finding Khnoji would be..."

"I’ll find him," Gurdet said stonily, sending his attendant a cool sidelong glance. And then, because sometimes even the subordinates whom he allowed to speak most freely needed to be reminded of their place, "...And I’ll thank you to stop questioning me."

Gurdet’s lips thinned as he dropped into step with him, and it was with definite strain that he replied, "...Of course, Your Majesty." And for a few blessed strides he kept his silence.

"But..." Gurdet sighed and rolled his eyes, but let him continue. "...Assuming you even find Khnoji, what then? He’ll want his nephew."

"...And Khobi will want to go to him," Gurdet continued lightly, "An astute observation."

"And you just intend to tell him where to find him?"

Vogrid’s apprehension was understandable. He knew as well as Gurdet did that should Khobi learn his uncle’s whereabouts, all bets --all deals --were off.

No guards, walls, or threats could deter him. If he knew where to find him, he’d go. No matter where, and no matter what it took, he’d run again. He would move the earth itself to get there.

Which wouldn’t do at all.

" Of course ," Gurdet replied flippantly. Too flippantly, probably, because Vogrid seemed to catch the sly, too-innocent lilt to his voice, "But you know how difficult these things can be, especially when it comes to finding a man who doesn’t want to be found.

They take time. They take men..." He trailed off, his lips curling up into a wide, wicked smile.

"...And messages do get lost... so easily these days."