The Princess of Hyrule spent the next day shivering naked under the sheets while Impa took her fine silk nightgown and hair ribbon into the nearest town and traded them away for supplies. She returned with plain clothes, battered and patched – trousers for her, a skirt for Zelda, shirts, cloaks and soft boots for them both, and a knife for the Princess as well, to be kept carefully hidden in her boot. "The Kakariko tribe never specialised in disguises," she said, opening one of the cupboards embedded in the wall, "but luckily the border tribes did." She pulled out a bottle of something black, poured it into a bowl of water and rinsed both their hair with it to darken the silver and blonde. Next she took out several boxes of powder, handed one to Zelda and started rubbing another into her skin. By the time they were done they were of almost the same skin and hair colours. "I am Sara Weaver," Impa said as they worked. "You are my daughter, Ruby. We're going to visit my sister in Termina. I'm hoping to find work there. My husband died recently of illness. Understand?"
"Ruby's too middle-class a name," Zelda said, checking that there were no gaps in the powder in her ears, her progress somewhat hampered by her bandaged hand. "Let it be… Shauna. That'll do. One of the castle town dressmakers had a daughter called Shauna."
Not letting it show how impressed she was, Impa nodded. It was not the first time she had had to change her looks, and she was much faster at it than the child. She had sewn one of the bed sheets into a sack and was now carefully wrapping her armour into strips torn from the other sheet, and packing it away. "It'll look suspicious if we're found with that," Zelda pointed out. Impa pursed her lips.
"Anyone who decides to search us has already decided who we are," she said eventually. "Besides, I can't leave it here. Sheikah armour is sacred. This suit has been passed down my family for three hundred years."
Zelda stopped what she was doing and knelt on the cold stone floor to touch one of Impa's unwrapped gauntlets, lying in wait next to a set of throwing-knives. "It all looks so new," she said quietly.
"It's almost impossible to break. Oh, parts might need replacing every few decades or so, but in essence…" she smiled, feeling a familiar stir of pride at the achievements of her tribe. "In essence this is the same suit my ancestor wore when we first took Hyrule away from the Dark." Silence fell between them. Just to break it, Impa continued, "Each of the Sheikah branch families has its own armoury, where its suits are kept – each with their own unique set of weapons – waiting to be inherited. When a Sheikah completes his or her training the teacher decides which suit to give them based on their skills and needs. Some suits go for decades without being worn. Others haven't rested for centuries. We're buried without weapons or armour. We hope we won't need them anymore. If a Sheikah falls in battle, retrieving their equipment is almost as important as retrieving their body. If you like I can tell you some of our stories about the exploits of these suits."
"So to you it's as if they have souls," Zelda said thoughtfully.
"Almost, yes. We believe a suit carries some of the strength and spirit of every warrior who has ever worn it, especially those who have died in it. To earn a suit we are required to learn its entire history."
Zelda picked up the gauntlet and examined it. Shining and smooth, it could have been fresh from the forge. "Has anybody died wearing this?" She asked quietly. Impa nodded again.
"Kheris, at the Battle of Kokori. Mylana, defending her king from assassins. Sannel, poisoned at a feast. Shae, at the Battle of Caana. I could tell you the centuries of history now known only to me and this suit. You understand, I can't just leave it behind."
"I understand. Besides," the princess said, handing back the gauntlet, "it's proof of who you are. Not many people would recognise me now." She looked back into the small, dirty mirror they had been using. A tanned, brown-haired, tired-looking peasant girl in a half-ragged dress looked back at her. She was caught between horror and admiration. "You'll have to do the talking," she added as an afterthought. "My accent…"
Before they left the safe-house Impa cleaned it thoroughly, re-filled the oil lamps and the log cupboard and scribbled something in the log by the door in the secret language of the Sheikah. Zelda asked what it meant, but Impa had shook her head and said that some knowledge was for the Sheikah warriors only. She kept her knives out, hidden in her cloak. Zelda had not been conscious when they arrived at the safe house, and as they left she saw Impa turn several hidden dials to lock the door, then throw a few fallen branches over the entrance of the safe house and, so doing, eradicate all sign of their time there.
"We won't always be so lucky with our shelter," Impa said as she lifted Zelda onto the horse. "We'll likely be sleeping under the stars most nights. We shouldn't stay at inns. I don't want us to be noticed."
They were noticed.
Impa had ridden through the night, taking the occasional swig of some special Sheikah potion to keep herself awake while Zelda dozed on and off in her arms. Impa had deliberately taken the longer path to avoid the towns, but near nightfall on the second day she found the road blocked by soldiers. They wore unfamiliar armour and carried the curved swords of the Gerudo, but their bearing said "soldier" as surely as any of the men who had died guarding Hyrule Castle. Impa cursed quietly under her breath and felt the princess stiffen in her arms. They spread across the road and the one she presumed to be their leader raised his hand in greeting. In the absence of reigns she lightly tugged at the horse's mane to stop it. The animal was well-trained.
"Evening, traveller," the leader called in Hylian tinged with a desert accent. "Name and trade?"
"Sara Weaver," Impa said in a convincing Lowland accent. "Widow."
"And where are you travelling?" They were all heading closer to the horse, which whinnied uneasily.
"Termina. Hoping I can find work with your sister."
"Mm." The guard came close enough that he could have reached out and touched them. "This your daughter?"
"Yes. Shauna."
"She doesn't talk?"
Impa put a protective arm around her. "Shy, is all." She looked around. "Don't often see these roads patrolled."
"The king's orders," the captain informed her. "There may be escaped convicts trying to cross the border." He looked at the horse. "No saddle?"
Impa snorted. "Some little brat in the stable at the last town stole it. Lucky the animal's well-behaved."
"Awfully good horse, for a weaver's widow."
"Is it?" Impa laughed. "And my husband just used it for hauling his things to market."
"Beautiful animal." He patted its neck. "Could have come straight out of the Hyrule Castle stables. I know a pedigree when I see one."
"Worth a lot, is he?"
"Not nearly as much as you are."
He wrapped his hand around the horse's mane, not tight enough to startle the animal but enough to discourage it from moving. The others had formed a loose circle around them.
"Princess Zelda," the captain said calmly, meeting her sharp blue eyes. "We will escort you home. Neither you nor your guard will be in any way harmed, so long as you co-operate. You did well to get this far."
"Your king murdered my father," Zelda replied, a coldness creeping into her voice that few people even three times her age could have mustered. "I hope he enjoys my throne. He won't hold it for long."
The captain's face darkened. "Walk or be dragged, girl. It makes no difference to me, but it could save the Sheikah's life." He reached out and took a handful of her cloak.
Impa moved so fast it took him a moment to realise what had happened. A thin line of red appeared around his wrist for a moment before his hand fell away. He stared at the stump of his arm for a second or two before realisation dawned and he screamed. Impa threw back her cloak, both daggers in her hands, sharp eyes darting about the circle of soldiers as they all drew their swords in one long ringing echo. "You dared to lay your hand on the rightful queen of Hyrule," she calmly told the captain. "Now it belongs to her. So will your head, if you think to defy her again."
"You're dead," growled the captain as he staggered backwards. "You're dead!"
Impa moved with incredible speed and agility. In one smooth move she had jumped down from the horse, slapped its flank with the flat side of one dagger and thrown the other into the neck of the man who had been trying to creep up behind them. Zelda barely managed to stay on the horse as it bolted; she threw herself flat against its neck and clung on with both arms, shouting over her shoulder but unable to stop. The last thing she saw before the horse dashed into the trees was the flash of steel as the Gerudo soldiers closed in on her bodyguard.
