Chapter 2
The Steed trotted over to the hedgerow. The shrubbery was too dense to penetrate and too high to jump over; and even if vaulting it were possible, no clue as to whether any landing would be afforded on the other side. Miss Ryder pointed towards the stone path.
"The hunters went that a-way," she said.
"Then we'll go this a-way," the Steed countered, heading off in the opposite direction along the row. Miss Ryder started to object; then reasoned that one direction would be as likely to succeed as another. After a canter of a few hundred yards, the Steed's efforts were rewarded: there was a narrow opening in the hedge.
The path leading inside was dirt, rather than paved with stone. Eight-foot high bushes formed a border on both sides like the entrance to a garden maze. A rose-covered trellis arched overhead with a sign reading 'TO THE FORWARD RANKS.'
"Makes it sound like we're heading into a battle," Miss Ryder mused.
The Steed teasingly backed up. "We could always keep searching for a more hospitable entrance."
"Time is of the essence. I don't want my quarry to escape."
"I took that for granite," said the Steed as he darted under the archway.
Miss Ryder frowned at the bad pun as she clung to the white horse's mane and tried to stay upright in spite of the speed, hoping to get a glimpse of the landscape in any direction over the towering shrubs. No landmarks were visible through the hedges; they were still running blind. The only course of action was to hurry down the green corridor and hope that they eventually came out on the same path as the man in the chessboard mask.
The Steed broke stride and his nostrils flared. "What's that smell?" he asked.
Miss Ryder pulled the strands of auburn hair back from her face and sniffed.
"Something sweet?" she offered.
A viscous bubbling sound became audible over the horse's labored breathing. He slowed down as a clearing appeared in the path ahead.
A wood fire was smoldering away under a large cauldron. To one side, a golden-haired lion was standing on his hind legs, stirring the pot's contents with a wooden paddle. Even more unexpected was the fact that the lion was clothed in finery: he wore a delicately brocaded jacket with ruffled cuffs and an Elizabethan collar, and jeweled spats where his ankles would be.
"Isn't he a dandy!" the Steed remarked.
Miss Ryder nodded. "It smells like he's making treacle." As they moved closer, she noticed a swirling in the air above the cauldron.
"He's not alone," she observed. "What's that over the kettle?"
A low humming could be heard across the glade, and both horse and rider recognized a swarm of bees hovering above the sticky mixture. Even as they watched, one of the bees started to grow in size. At first it appeared to be a trick of perspective; but after a few seconds, it was clear that the bee was growing to the same height as the lion. A small tiara adorned the bee's head.
"She must be the Queen Bee," the Steed commented.
"Leo and Buzzer!" Miss Ryder remarked suddenly.
"How did you know their names?"
"I'm not quite sure," she answered. "No, wait—I've seen their pictures on a Golden Syrup can."
"Since you're so familiar with them, ask if they'll let us pass," the Steed suggested. He stepped forward carefully, ready to make a preemptive charge should the meeting turn nasty.
Miss Ryder addressed the lion. "Sir Leo—" she began earnestly.
"Mmm... you can call me Mistress Leo," the Queen Bee hummed in correction as she interposed her body. They could now see that she was dressed in a strange leather outfit with stiletto heels on her rear legs.
"And I'm Sir Buzzer," put in the Dandy Lion.
"The bee is Leo and the lion is Buzzer?" the Steed asked in confusion.
"Yes," answered Buzzer. "And you are—?"
Miss Ryder patted the horse's neck. "We're not sure."
"Mmm... intruders, I should say." The Queen Bee moved menacingly closer.
"I call him Steed, and he calls me Miss Ryder."
"Don't be ridiculous," said the Dandy Lion as he produced a hankie from his sleeve and dabbed his nostrils. "You're the White Knight."
"Mmm," the Queen Bee concurred, "and her Steed!"
Miss Ryder wrinkled her mouth. "I'm not a Knight. At least, I don't think I am."
"But you are riding the White Steed," the Lion countered. He turned to look at the Queen Bee, who was now staring intently at Miss Ryder.
"She definitely has mmm... appeal," Mistress Leo droned sexily.
Something in the bee's voice caused Miss Ryder to check that her dress hadn't come loose again. "I thought bees liked honey."
"We make honey," the Queen Bee said haughtily. "Mmm... we like treacle." She daubed one of her forward appendages into the cauldron and put it to her mouth to lick it clean.
Miss Ryder shifted uneasily on the horse's back. "We're chasing a man in a chessboard mask," she announced.
"The Black Rook!" the Lion exclaimed.
The Queen Bee's eyes flashed angrily. "I'd like to cover him in treacle," she hissed. The bees hovering behind her started to buzz more loudly in reflection of her mood. They swirled through the air in close formation, then coalesced into the shape of a chesspiece rook.
"Did the Rook come this way?" the Steed asked.
It was difficult to hear over the furious droning. The Lion shook his head. "He must be on a different file."
Miss Ryder shifted once again, this time inadvertently revealing a flash of her panties before sweeping the two halves of the dress forward for cover. Mistress Leo smirked at the sight.
"You look like you could use a saddle, girl," she said. "And you're looking for the Black Rook. Lucky for you, there's someone who can help you on both counts. If you can survive, that is."
The Dandy Lion nodded in agreement. "You want Miss Stalking Panther," he pronounced seriously. The bees over Mistress Leo's head formed into the silhouette of a panther.
"What's so unusual about a panther that talks?" Miss Ryder asked. "All of the animals seem to talk around here."
"Not Talking, Stalking," the Queen Bee corrected over the hum. "The Panther is Stalking."
"Panthers in stockings?" the Steed asked. "How do they stay up?"
Miss Ryder furrowed her brow. "They drink coffee before bedtime?" she offered. The bees were confused for a moment, then formed the shape of a coffee pot.
"They stay up with a garter, of course," the Lion answered.
The Steed twitched an ear. "A guarder? What is the Panther guarding?"
"Her stockings?" Miss Ryder ventured.
The Lion shrugged. "Can't say what she's guarding, really. All she does is stalk all day."
Miss Ryder turned to the Queen Bee. "Where do we find this Talking—er, Stalking—Panther?"
Leo gave her an enigmatic look. "Where the thicket grows thickest," she said simply. "Whenever you see a fork in the path, follow the branch with the most branches, as it were." The picture-forming bees surpassed themselves with a rendition of jungle, complete with twisted roots, moss, and lianas.
"Beware the Black Rook," Buzzer warned as he straightened his elaborate cuffs. "He has Pawns everywhere. Be a shame if you were eliminated before the Game has barely started."
"Although it's more likely you will become a meal for a certain Panther," Mistress Leo crooned wickedly. She sampled the treacle again.
"I think it's ready," she said. The bees over her head converged, forming a tightly-knit three-dimensional cup that dipped into the mixture and then eerily levitated for the Lion to take a sip.
"Perfect!" he declared as he smacked his lips. The bee-cup hovered over to Mistress Leo, and she drank deep. The strange creatures seemed to have forgotten their visitors.
"Er—thank you for your help," Miss Ryder said with a bow, rubbing her toes against the horse's flank to indicate a retreat. The Steed picked up her message and maneuvered to the other side of the glade. Miss Ryder didn't speak again until they were well on their way down the path.
"I'm glad to be clear of those two. They looked capably dangerous," she said. "And with the sound of those bees, we could hardly hear ourselves think."
"Does one usually hear oneself thinking?" the Steed parried. "And what does a brain sound like? A smooth hum? Or maybe a mechanical clockwork tick?"
Miss Ryder playfully tugged on his mane. "Perhaps yours makes a galloping noise," she teased. "Although right now, I suspect it's a more of a light trot."
-oOo-
The tree limbs on either side were encroaching more and more on the path, and soon the two travelers found themselves moving through a forest of jungle-like density. Even the humidity seemed to have increased as the Steed picked his way through vines that tugged and scrabbled at his hooves.
"Did you bring a machete?" he asked lightly.
"Stay alert," Miss Ryder cautioned, her eyes panning from side to side. "This would be a perfect place for an ambush."
"Why so nervous?" the Steed asked.
"I have this feeling..." she answered quietly, her voice trailing off.
"What feeling?" the Steed whispered.
Miss Ryder whirled around to look behind the horse. "Like we're being stalked!"
She found herself face-to-face with a jet-black feline crouched on a limb just inches away. The jade eyes blinked once, the gold flecks in them dancing with fire as the panther began in a silky smooth voice.
"You have excellent hearing, girl."
The Steed deftly turned about, flattening his ears as he interposed his head and neck to shield Miss Ryder should the creature choose to attack. The tight quarters prevented him from backing up to a safer distance. The Stalking Panther slunk down to the ground and stood upright.
"And I see the horse has excellent instincts to protect his rider," she purred.
Both horse and rider stared at the strange creature. Mistress Panther was dressed head to toe in a black leather catsuit with a zipper running up the middle. Even the tail was encased in a sleeve of leather. It seemed completely pointless, since she already had a pelt of her own. The leather-sheathed tail swung menacingly from side to side.
Miss Ryder accidentally said out loud, "What possible purpose could an outfit like that serve?"
"It allows me to kill with style," the Panther answered. She began circling her prey, and the Steed was forced to execute a fancy combination of rotating steps to keep the predator constantly in front of him. The sound of crinkling leather was unnerving, and it brought up the question of how Mistress Panther had managed to creep up on them so silently.
Miss Ryder couldn't suppress a thrill, in spite of the danger. While her own white gown was certainly elegant and regal, as the Steed had observed, there was something exotic and decadent about the leather that Mistress Panther wore. She found herself wondering how it would feel to wear something just like that.
The Panther moved in closer. "I've been craving fresh meat."
Miss Ryder whispered into the horse's ear, "Is she talking about you, or me?"
The Steed suddenly echoed the words of the Queen Bee. "This is the White Knight!" he proclaimed. "I'm her Steed."
"It looks like the Knight will have to proceed on foot, then." Mistress Panther continued her fluid stalking.
Miss Ryder murmured to the Steed, "Apparently, you're the dinner." She tried to match the horse's bravado.
"You can't harm my Steed. I need him to track and capture the Black Rook."
"Anyone could say that," the Panther snorted. "You've probably never even seen the Black Rook."
"He wears a chessboard mask," Miss Ryder said levelly. "Black and white squares."
The Panther's motions slowed.
"So you do know him." She paused before letting out a resigned sigh. "In that case, killing your horse will not be necessary. I'll merely take a small filet from his rump." With a rapid swoop Mistress Panther suddenly displayed razor-sharp claws. "I promise surgical precision."
"Certainly not!" the Steed protested. "My rump is my best part!"
The Panther licked her lips. "My palate will be the judge of that."
Miss Ryder's eyes flashed. "There will be no fileting of my mount!" she announced sternly.
The Panther hesitated at the passion and resolve in her voice. Before the jungle cat could recover, Miss Ryder pressed the advantage.
"We just spoke with the Queen Bee—Mistress Leo. It seems as if everyone dislikes the Black Rook. Does that include you?"
"He's a treacherous man," Mistress Panther mused. "Smooth and polished on the outside, but with a dark heart on the inside."
"You seem a bit dark yourself," commented the Steed. Miss Ryder swatted his shoulder, not wanting him to break up the tentative truce. The Panther lifted herself into the tree with one paw and curled bonelessly on a branch.
"I kill for food," she said to the horse. "The Black Rook kills for pleasure."
"I hope you won't insist on a meal," Miss Ryder continued. "I have to keep up my pursuit with the utmost speed."
The Stalking Panther shook her head. "Too late. The Black Rook has probably already returned to his Castle. He can move very quickly along straight lines. You, on the other hand, are forced to meander." She casually sharpened her nails against the bark. "You'll have to penetrate deep into Black territory to capture him now."
"I see," Miss Ryder sighed. "I was afraid something like that would happen."
At last, the rider's predicament seemed to melt the Panther's hostility. She hung on the branch a moment, judging the travelers. Could these two succeed in their quest? After all, a Knight could capture a Rook. She reached a decision and lowered herself back to the ground.
"You need some leathers, girl. That dress will be in tatters by midday."
Miss Ryder looked hopeful. "The Queen Bee told me you know where I can get a saddle."
"Take the left-hand path. In the village you'll find a Tanner. He can put you up in leather."
"Any chance he'll know the way to the Black Rook's fortress?" the Steed asked.
The Stalking Panther let the question hang unanswered.
"You should make contact with the White King," she said mysteriously. "Then you'll know what to do."
-oOo-
The path wound its way from the forest down into a brush-strewn valley, and even though the shrubs were only neck high, they still zigzagged at right angles to form a challenging maze. From her position high on the Steed, Miss Ryder guided the horse towards a cottage on the outskirts of a small village.
Surrounding the thatched house were wooden frames with ferret and rabbit pelts stretched out in the sun. Surely, this would be the home of the Tanner. The sound of the Steed's hooves on the loose gravel must have alerted the occupant; a tall figure with a face covered in hair, or perhaps fur, emerged from the front of the building. Miss Ryder thought that he might be an animal—maybe a bear—until she saw human eyes, nose, and mouth.
The strange man looked at her, but said nothing. Miss Ryder thought it would be suitably ironic if after all of the talking creatures, the Tanner lacked the power of speech. Finally, he spoke—slowly, evenly, and only one sentence.
"I could do a lot with horsehide."
The Steed stopped in his tracks. "I think this horse should be hiding."
Miss Ryder inclined her head. "You're human," she observed.
"No need for insults, Miss."
"I mean, it seems like talking animals are the order of the day."
The Tanner wasn't much for conversation; instead, he walked around the horse with a measured stare.
"I'll give you twenty gold sovereigns," he announced.
Miss Ryder started to say that she was buying, not selling; then realized that she didn't have any gold to purchase anything. It would probably be the best strategy to simply demand, and hope to trick the Tanner into giving.
The Tanner continued his negotiation. "I only need the skin," he added matter-of-factly. "You can keep the meat; several good meals in there. Fine London broil."
Miss Ryder frowned. "I have no intention of eating my horse."
The Tanner shrugged. "All the more for me, then."
"I mean, I need the horse for transport." Everyone wanted to kill the Steed. "I was hoping you might provide me with a saddle."
"I have nowhere near enough leather for a saddle," he said flatly.
She pursed her lips. "Forget the saddle then. If you can provide me with a leather outfit, at least I won't chafe."
The Tanner got an odd, almost perverse expression on his face. "I suppose I might have a nice leather outfit for you. In black."
"They told me that I was the White Knight," she countered.
The Tanner grinned as he stared at the horse. "Only one source of white leather around here."
The Steed nervously backed up a few hoofsteps. Miss Ryder patted his shoulder. "But if I wear black, people will think I'm on the other side," she protested.
The Steed nodded agreement. "If she gets caught wearing the other side's color, she'll be hanged as a spy."
The Tanner folded his arms. "No concern of mine."
"Don't you have something in a lighter color, like brown?" Miss Ryder asked. "Maybe an outfit like the Stalking Panther wears, so my legs won't rub so much."
"Oh?" the horse remarked suddenly, disappointment evident in his voice.
"What's wrong with that?" Miss Ryder asked.
"It's just that I'll miss the feeling of your warm, bare thighs," the Steed confessed.
The Tanner retrieved a box from his work area and slammed it on the top rail of the fence with a thump. "This is all I have." He reached inside and pulled out a few scant square inches of leather and displayed them between his hands.
It took a moment for Miss Ryder to recognize what the miniscule pieces of hide were: a black leather mini-skirt and a skimpy lace-up bodice. Her eyes widened at the wanton apparel.
"That's all you can spare?" she asked incredulously. "The Stalking Panther has an entire suit made of leather."
The Tanner shook his head. "Leather is rare. It doesn't grow on trees, you know, except in the tropics."
Miss Ryder wrinkled her mouth, displeased. This wasn't what she had in mind. Still, perhaps the garments were larger than they looked.
"Give me those," she ordered. Taking the small pieces of leather, Miss Ryder dismounted from the horse and stalked towards a nearby bush. She faced away from the Tanner and the Steed and untied the neck straps to let the top half of the dress fall to her waist, exposing her delicately-muscled bare back.
Miss Ryder shrugged into the bodice and found her original assessment was correct—it stopped several inches above her navel. In fact, the garment seemed hardly deserving of the name 'bodice' at all; it was more like a lace-up bra with two or three extra inches of leather at the bottom. Still, there was no denying it would be more comfortable than the torn halter dress, and ironically offered better coverage where it mattered.
She unhitched the dress and let it fall to her ankles, then wrangled the leather miniskirt up over her white panties and laced up the waist. It was so short it could barely hide her underwear. Miss Ryder reflexively tugged the hem down in the back. She could feel eyes behind her and turned to see the Tanner and Steed were watching in amusement.
"If you bend over," the Steed commented wryly, "the Black pieces will see white and know you're a spy."
"I'll scold you later for your voyeurism," she countered tersely, "but you make a reasonable point." She looked at the Tanner. "I don't suppose you know a Weaver who could make me some black undergarments?"
He shook his head. "No one like that around here." He began rummaging through the box, again giving her a perverse grin.
"Leather is rare," the Tanner said, "but laces are easy." He pulled out a small triangle of glistening black leather tied by flimsy thongs. Miss Ryder recognized it as a shocking leather G-string.
"You've got to be kidding," she retorted. "Don't you have any coverage for my rear?"
The Steed narrowed his eyes at the undergarment. "If you bend over wearing that, the Black pieces will still see white and know you're a spy."
"After my riding you without a saddle, I think all they'll be able to see is black and blue," Miss Ryder said as she remounted the Steed. At least the leather would be more protective than nylon. "I guess it'll have to do."
The Tanner leered, "Don't you want to try it on now? Make sure it fits?"
Miss Ryder balefully returned his grin. "Not a chance."
She took the diminutive G-string from his hand and checked the suppleness of the leather. It was certainly thin and soft, wrapping clingily around her fingers. Miss Ryder tried to imagine the tiny triangular pouch cradling her most precious area.
"I suppose if it fails as an undergarment, I could always use it as a sling to throw rocks," she said as she tucked it away into the decolletage of her bodice.
The Steed perked to attention. "Speaking of which, what will you use as a weapon against the Rook?"
"I think I'll do fine with fisticuffs, judo, and karate."
"You know those?"
"I suppose I must," Miss Ryder answered confidently. "I don't know how I know, I just do."
"But the Black Rook is a man," the Steed persisted.
"I know seventeen ladylike ways to disable a man, and three or four unladylike ones."
The Tanner snorted skeptically as he rooted through his box of wares. "And which way do you prefer?"
Miss Ryder gave him a level smirk. "Depends on the man."
He scowled and shook his head. "I have a perfect weapon for you."
Both horse and rider's eyes widened as the Tanner produced a braided black leather whip. Miss Ryder took it by the handle and let the long lash unfurl along the horse's shoulder.
The Steed was alarmed. "You don't plan to use that on me?"
"Shhh," she said, stroking his mane with her other hand as she addressed the hidesman. "That's the best you can do?"
"I'm a Tanner, not a Blacksmith. It's not like I could forge you a weapon. Whips and slings are all I have."
"Very well," she said imperiously, deciding to hurry things along before the Tanner brought up the subject of payment. "Do you know the way to the palace of the White King?"
"Just keep heading toward the coast," he said. "You can ask the Whales at Swan Sea."
Miss Ryder brushed her toes against the horse's flank and he started to trot away down the path.
"Hey, what about payment?" the Tanner shouted angrily.
"I'll have the White King send you compensation," she called back over her shoulder.
"What guarantee do I have?"
The Steed stopped and turned. Miss Ryder was silent for a moment as she gave the Tanner a withering glare. Her voice was cold and expressionless.
"You dare to question the word of the White Knight?"
The Tanner grumbled in response, but didn't seem to want to risk angering the powers-that-be on the White side. Miss Ryder held her head high and didn't look back as she guided the Steed out of the village.
"Well played," said the Steed.
-oOo-
With the village left behind, the Steed followed the wide, well-worn path towards a body of water in the distance. Miss Ryder looked thoughtful as she leaned forward and adjusted the horse's bowler.
"What you said...," she mused quietly into his ear, "...about being a spy. That might be the best way to find the whereabouts of the Black Rook. I pretend to be the Black Knight, and the enemy pieces will confide in me."
"Yes," the horse agreed, "a spy game. I think you would do quite well."
"Then it's time for me to change all the way," she said as she tapped her big toe lightly against the horse's side. The Steed understood and steered toward the edge of the path so she could dismount, then retreated a respectful distance away.
Miss Ryder loosened the bodice that she had overtightened trying to hide her bosom from the Tanner. Her leather outfit was certainly risqué, though she had to admit she preferred a bare midriff when practicing martial arts: it made it easier to twist and gyrate when performing high kicks. The miniskirt was a loosely-pleated Roman style—good for freedom of movement, but also likely to flap about and expose what was underneath.
That brought her to the leather G-string, which she pulled out of the hiding place in her top and examined more closely. The surface of the triangle shimmered like liquid. How could the brutish Tanner possess the skill to render leather so incredibly thin and filmy? Wearing something like this would be very nearly obscene. The undergarment's outline-revealing properties wouldn't have mattered so much if the skirt weren't so short.
She felt a thrill as she slipped her white nylon panties down to her ankles and kicked them aside, discarding the last proof of which side of the chessboard she served. The cool breeze swirled around her nakedness as she positioned the black leather triangle between her thighs. After tying two quick, tight bows, she tugged the single back-lace into the cleavage of her rump.
The garment clung to her feminine parts almost protectively, and Miss Ryder began to appreciate the attraction it held for Mistress Panther. Wearing leather, even an amount as small as this, made her feel invulnerable, invincible. She felt a sudden urge to show off to the Steed. Caching the unused white gown and panties behind a rock, she returned to the path.
The Steed had been grazing absently and turned his head as she approached. Miss Ryder stood before the horse and mischievously lifted the hem of her miniskirt, spinning slowly around to display the results.
"Now I'm dressed completely in black," she said with a winsome smile. "How do I look?"
The horse took in her exposed backside and the thin leather triangle adhering to the heart of her womanhood, and visibly gulped.
"Your hindquarters and fetlocks are superb!" he exclaimed breathlessly.
Miss Ryder was surprised to feel herself redden not with shame, but with pleasure. "I mean," she corrected, "do I look like a Black Knight?"
"You look more like some sort of Warrior Princess," the Steed said, "so I think no one will dare question you." He bowed deeply so that she could climb onto his back.
Miss Ryder wrapped her legs around the Steed as he rose again. As she had hoped, the leather undergarment felt sturdier between her and the horse than the nylon panties, even if it was no less stimulating. She draped the whip in a loose loop around the horse's neck, its handle within easy reach. She was equipped for action and ready for her pursuit of the Black Rook.
They continued down the path, and at the top of every rise they could see the body of water looming larger and larger. The Steed broke into a prancing dressage piaffe, lifting his knees up and down, almost in a dance.
Miss Ryder laughed, "Why are you in such high spirits?"
The Steed neighed with delight before answering, "I still have your bare thighs to keep me warm."
"Try not to bump so much," she chided. "I wasn't joking about being bruised. My legs feel like tenderized beef."
"I'll try to tread more lightly," the Steed promised. "For your thighs only."
-oOo-