Leopold stared at him, then burst into laughter.
Siegfried patted his shoulder. "Do not say it. I already know. I am smarter than I look."
Leopold shook his head. "All right, let's just look at this thing and figure out what needs to be done and how we can do it better than the rest of them. We don't have horses, but this says they'll supply them. I don't think there will be any advantage to anyone there. I'd bet a round of ale that the Godmother had a hand in this, and that she'll be making mouse-horses."
"Magic armor, too." Siegfried considered this. "I have armor. You don't. Mine is light, compared to some of the foolishness I have seen people trying to wear around here. You could ask for light armor too, but..." He considered. "Now that I think about it...there could be a problem with this. I am fairly certain that at some point we'll have to fight. And I am fairly certain that at that point, if we made a specific request for this trial, they will give us the same armor we asked for the first time and make us fight in it. These sorts of trials are full of things to catch you like that."
"Hmm. I see your point. Riding in armor is no joke. But if you pick light armor for this, you'll be stuck with it when we fight. If you pick heavy armor, you'll be laboring at this trial." Leopold sucked his lower lip. "Unless — "
"Unless they allow us to pick whatever we want?" Siegfried brightened, thinking of the one thing that
would serve both purposes.
They looked at each other in glee, and said, simultaneously, "Dwarven chain mail!"
"I have wanted a set of that since I first saw it," Leopold said, matter-of-factly. "My father, the King, has a set. It's been passed down in the family for generations."
"I would seriously consider trading my mother for a set," Siegfried replied fervently. "I would definitely trade my father. Of course, given that my father was not noted for thinking very far ahead, that would not be a good bargain for the Dwarves."
"You'd better not consider trading me," the bird twittered in his ear.
Both men chuckled at Siegfried's quip about his father, then sobered. "Well, assuming they have thought of that already, and have already decided what sort of armor those who don't have any are going to get..." Leopold pondered. "This might not be a question of winning the race so much as not being eliminated."
"A very good point." Siegfried nodded. "It's the whole thinking-ahead business. People who race to the midpoint could get themselves into trouble. Arriving exhausted to deal with the sheep and the eggs..."
Leopold shook his head. "It won't be pretty. So, as long as we don't actually fall off in the race, and we look as if we are making an effort, that ought to be enough to keep us just ahead of the middle of the pack."
"The middle is not a bad place to be," Siegfried pointed out. "If you are not a leader, no one is shooting at you."
Leopold's glance sharpened. "You think that might happen?"
Siegfried nodded toward the other side of the hedge. "All of the Princess's enemies sent young men to this trial. I very much doubt that they are concerned with anything but winning, and making sure that what they do to win is done quietly enough that no one suspects them. And besides the obvious candidates, those enemies could have covert agents, as well, placed not to win for themselves, but to make sure that their own Prince wins." As Leopold's mouth dropped open, he shrugged wryly. "Just because my people are sometimes dim, it does not follow that they are not cunning and treacherous. Remember, the keeping of hostages is routine in the north."
"I have the feeling that before this is over, I am going to be more grateful to you for your insights than you are for mine," Leopold said ruefully.
Siegfried smiled. "That depends on which of us wins the Princess."
Siegfried reckoned that he and Leopold would not be the only ones to get advance notice of what the first trial was going to be; they were only the first. And he was right. A full day before it was to take place, it was an open secret. And there was not a shepherd or sheepherding dog to be had neither for favors nor money for miles around. It seemed that the first thing that came to most of the clever candidates was to take an expert riding doubled with them on the horse, on a pillion pad behind the saddle.
Siegfried, on the other hand, went out and talked with sheep.
Or rather, he listened to sheep.
They were, on the whole, just about as dim as most birds — or the men of the north. But he spent a morning paying very close attention every time they wanted something. By afternoon, he had a good idea of what they liked. He had thought they were grazers and ate grass — well they did, but it wasn't what they preferred. They preferred things with leaves and flowers. Clover was a favorite, but any leafy, sweet plant would do. In fact, that was a great complaint of the flock that he listened to; there were bean plants they would dearly have loved to get at, and at least once an hour they would drift over to the fence, lean against it longingly and complain that it hadn't gone away.
It was after supper by the time he hiked his way back from the pasture, but Leopold had promised to meet him at the tavern, and by the time he got there, Leopold had ale and a good meat pie waiting for him — the kind you picked up and ate, rather than the messier sort you had to carve up and fuss with.
"So, I hope you learned something?" the Prince said, as Siegfried bit into the tasty crust.