The Prophecy by Hilari Bell Page A

“I’ll tell them you were protecting me and that you tricked me into coming back. My father will probably reward you.”
    “How much? Oh, all right. I suppose I might convince them that I believed your story about being Prince Perryndon, though that’s pretty thin—but what would they do to you?”
    “Nothing,” said Perryn. “Oh, I suppose the guards would lock me in my room till my father gets back. But if I’m imprisoned, that will mean the end of the prophecy!” And possibly his death, if Cedric could contrive his “accident” before the king returned. The one good thing about this was that Idris Castle was the last place Cedric would expect to find him.
    Perryn had asked the mirror for the location of King Albion’s tomb several times on the four days’ journey back to the castle but it had shown him nothing, except once, when he’d seen an old man on a stream bank fishing for trout. He shouldn’t ask too much of the mirror, he reminded himself. They had to do this. Though if Cedric caught him…
    “I’d say good riddance to the prophecy,” said Lysander. “Except that it would also be the end of us.”
    “Be quiet,” said Perryn. “We’re almost out of the trees. The guards might hear us.”
    “And they might shoot before they discover who you are,” said Prism uneasily. “I’m not sure this is such a good idea.”
    The bard came to a stop, looking over the cleared space that surrounded the castle. “I never noticed how formidable it is. Prissy-prim is right. We’ll all get shot crossing the cleared ground.”
    “No, we won’t,” said Perryn confidently. “I crossed it when I ran away with no trouble and the moon was brighter then. Besides, I thought you liked adventure.”
    “Adventure is one thing, suicide is another.” Lysander insisted. “You didn’t have a snow-white unicorn with you before. The guards would have to be stone blind not to see her. Unicorn soup was a delicacy in the elder days, wasn’t it?”
    “No,” said Perryn. “Stop doing that. Prism, take deep breaths and try to calm down. You have to learn not to faint, before we go against the drag—. Take a deep breath, and hold your head down! There, that’s better.”
    He had wondered what they would do with Prism, traveling on the road, but the unicorn displayed an amazing ability to hide herself whenever they heard someone approaching. Crossing an open meadow on a clear night, that wouldn’t be an option.
    “Much use she’ll be,” said the bard. “If we’re really going to do this, we’d better leave her here.”
    “You’re right,” said Perryn. “She does show up in the dark, and we don’t have any garments left that are big enough to cover her. Though we could rub her with dirt. I think you’d better stay here, Prism.”
    “Gladly,” said the unicorn. “How long shall I wait? I mean, not to be indelicate, but suppose you don’t come back?”
    “Wait till morning,” said Perryn. “We should be back long before then. Lysander, get ready to run when that guard walks away. Keep low and stay in the bushes.
    “Yes, Your Highness,” said the bard sardonically. “What were you really when you worked here? A stable boy? Kitchen—”
    “Now!” Perryn darted off, Lysander scrambling at his heels.
    It took longer without the wind-blown clouds that had aided Perryn’s escape, but they reached the base of the wall without being seen. The guards in the parapet above them would have to lean far over the edge to see them now.
    “I have to talk to my father about this,” Perryn murmured. “We keep such a careful watch for the dragon that anyone could get into this place from the ground.”
    “We’re not in yet,” the bard whispered back. “How do you propose to get through the wall? Scuttle through the cracks like rats?”
    “Exactly.” Perryn moved down the wall. He might have missed the low grating, if his feet hadn’t sunk into the mud.
    “It’s here.” He knelt and quietly began