“Sorry,” said Umbo resentfully.
“You’re dressed like privicks,” said Olivenko. “I mean that in the nicest possible way.”
“We were supposed to look like privicks,” said Loaf. “We are privicks.”
“There’s no way we can make her look like she belongs with you,” said Olivenko. “Either we put you in livery to look like her servants, or you dress like the kind of people who might be traveling with her.”
Rigg watched the others closely, reading their body language. “Listen,” said Rigg. “Olivenko isn’t taking charge, he’s just telling us things that none of the rest of us are in a position to know.”
“Who said I was in charge?” asked Olivenko, bristling.
“Nobody,” said Rigg. “We all contribute what we know, do what we can do. Olivenko knows this city in a way none of us can. My sister least of all.”
“Do we have enough money?” asked Olivenko. “Because I don’t have enough to buy shoes for a one-legged man.”
“We have enough,” said Loaf.
Param merely stood beside Rigg, eyes downcast, looking demure. It had been her survival strategy in Flacommo’s house. And it occurred to Rigg that this continued to be her best disguise. No one knew what the princess looked like—she hadn’t been seen by the public in a long, long time. And nobody would expect a royal to act so humble.
And Father had trained Rigg to act however he needed to. He could command the eye, impose his presence on others so they couldn’t take their eyes off him. He could also disappear, becoming hard to notice even when he was the only other person in the room. “People treat you as you expect to be treated,” Father had said. Rigg had complained that since all their work was with animals, this was hardly important. Now Rigg could only wonder if Father had known everything, planned everything.
“We could use a map,” said Rigg.
“I know how to get to the Wall,” said Loaf.
“It’s not hard anyway,” said Olivenko. “Any direction you go, eventually there it is.”
“But they’ll be chasing us soon enough,” said Loaf. “We’re getting out of town today, but once they know we’re gone, how long before General Citizen’s men overtake us on the road? It doesn’t look like the lady is ready for a long pursuit.”
“What I need,” said Rigg, “is a place where the ground hasn’t changed its level in eleven thousand years.”
“Oh, are there maps with that information?” asked Loaf.
“I need a stony place without a river, fairly smooth ground. Grass and no trees, if we can help it. As few trees as possible.”
“I can think of a few places that might answer,” said Loaf.
“What’s the closest one?” asked Rigg.
“In the east. And well south of here.”
“Do you or Umbo remember how the boundaries were on that globe in the Tower of O?” asked Rigg. “We don’t want to end up in the same wallfold where Father Knosso was killed.”
Loaf stopped, closed his eyes a few moments. “It’s well south of the boundary of the next wallfold. It won’t be the same one.”
“Good,” said Rigg. “The people there are not . . . nice.”
“Saints forbid we should go to a place where people aren’t nice,” said Umbo.
“We want them to be nice enough not to kill us immediately.”
They were walking again, and soon arrived at the shop Olivenko had been looking for. “Not that I’ve ever bought anything here,” he said. “But the clothes are nice—even if they weren’t made for anyone in particular. We don’t have time for tailoring.”
They explained to the shopkeeper what they wanted. “Good, practical traveling clothes for all of us.”
The shopkeeper looked them up and down, especially taking note of the difference between Loaf and Umbo on one hand, and Rigg and Param on the other.
“We don’t want to be conspicuous when traveling,” said Rigg. “These two went to an extreme, I think.” He indicated Umbo and Loaf.