"Petronilla" by Sally Catlin

It was almost dawn, and the only people still in the inn's common room were a few regulars who'd been there since the evening, seated in the back around an ancient jackals board that was marked with beer stains more than red-and-black squares. When someone knocked at the door, Flame the barmaid dropped her washing on the counter and trudged sleepily to let them in.

There were two strangely dressed men waiting, one clutching a long, very serious looking scroll.

"Congratulations," the other said, in a very well-mannered tone. "Last week, the kingdom of Pluristan suffered the terrible loss of its entire royal family. As you are the second cousin thrice removed on your Aunt Petrinella's side to the late Crown Prince, you are now heir to the kingdom. Walk this way, please..."

Flame laughed, but there was a tinge of hysteria to it, and she edged away. The bar patrons turned from their game, and Aren Bentblade appeared behind her. "These strangers bothering you, Flame?"

The men in the doorway stepped back, and the one with the scroll seemed about to say something, but Aren quelled them with a glance.

"No, they're just a bit confused, I think," Flame told Bentblade, regaining her composure. "You gentlemen have the wrong person, I'm afraid. Pluristan-- Isn't that one of those barbarian kingdoms up north, past the Salt Sea? You probably want Kielin the Warrior- she's staying in the second room on the courtyard, but if you wake her up at this hour I wouldn't bet on her temper. Or where she would stick her sword."

The emmissaries seemed a bit lost, and Flame took pity on them. "C'mon and have a drink. She'll be down for breakfast about the time the harbor bell rings tide." And, she thought privately, after I have a chance to warn her about what you're springing.

She gave them their drinks; tourist stuff, blue lotus wine, nobody would drink that unless they had to; and served Bentblade a refill of his beer, on the house. Narcet Dyer, one of his buddies, grinned and asked her why she'd brushed them off so quick. "This coulda been your big break! How do you know it's not you, anyway?"

"I bet it is her," Mana Talespinner replied. "We always knew there was something special about you, Flame." He narrowed his eyes, and lowered his voice, "What dark secret keeps you hiding from your birthright?" The others grinned, but a few of them grinned uneasily, seeing the look on Flame's face.

She sat down at their table, stirring her straw around her beer. "I was telling the truth, you know. I couldn't possibly be Queen of Pluristan. But you wouldn't believe me if I told you why."

"Try us," said Bentblade.

She tilted her head in thought. The red mark that marred the left side of her face was barely visible in the dim light, and she looked to the men. "Very well. But can I trust you to keep it an absolute secret?"

They nodded solemnly, humouring the young girl they had taken in as one of their own.

She put on her best innocent "of-course-I-wouldn't-lie-to-you" face, the one that she used on tax collectors and angry wives. "Well, you see, I'm actually the Empress Roseset of Teresh. Your empress, in fact. That got boring, so I ran away to mix drinks for you guys. But I know all my ancestors back twenty generations, and there are no Petronillas. And certainly no Northern cannibal kings. But if it got out they might drag me back to the palace, which would be, like, totally awful." She made a face at them, and they laughed.

"Good one, Flame," said Narcet. "That's better than one of Talespinner's lies."

"Hey!" Mana banged his mug on the table. "I never tell lies. I create `progressive mythology'."

"Just like the palace accountants?"

Flame laughed with the others at the old rub, and stood up to go back to the bar, but Bentblade pulled her aside. "Someday, girl, I'm going to get you to tell me your real history. No teasing and no jokes."

She stuck her tongue out at him. "I've already told you all the good bits. Why bother?"
Then she twisted away to take care of the visitors, one of whom seemed a bit distressed about the taste of his wine. But she smiled secretly to herself. They still didn't suspect. Maybe she was better at this schemeing business than she thought.