Kassandra was unable to imagine why Queen Imandra was so eager to have her daughter allied with Troy, and even less able to imagine why Andromache was willing—no, eager—to comply. But if she must return to Troy, she was glad to have with her something of the wide world she had discovered here. Also, she had come to love Andromache; and if she must part from Penthesilea and the women of the tribe, at least she would have with her one true friend and kinswoman in Troy. The journey seemed endless, the wagons crawling day by day at a snail’s gait across the wide plains, moon after moon fading and filling as they seemed no nearer to the distant mountains. Kassandra longed to mount and ride swiftly at the side of the Amazon guards, leaving the wagons to follow as best they could; but Andromache could not, or would not, ride, and fretted at being alone in the wagons. She wanted Kassandra’s company; so, reluctantly, Kassandra accepted the confinement and rode with her, playing endless games of Hound and Jackal on a carved onyx board, listening to her kinswoman’s simpleminded chatter about clothing and jewelry and hair ornaments and what she would do when she was married—a subject which Andromache found endlessly fascinating (she had even resolved on names for the first three or four of her children), till Kassandra thought she would go mad.
