ATTACK!
I had escaped from the Grand Feasting for as long as
possible, but now it was time to leave the peace and
privacy of the castle battlements and return to the hall
and the banquet my father was holding in my honor.
1 patted the stone one last time and began to turn
away, and that's when the arm whipped around my
throat and the hand pressed a wet cloth hard over my
nose and mouth. I immediately began to struggle, all
the while trying to reach the dagger hidden in my right
boot. I'd already gotten a breath of whatever was on
that cloth, and I could feel the dizziness and lethargy
crawling over me. After what seemed like an hour, my
hand closed around the dagger hilt. I jerked it free,
reversed it, then stabbed backward.
There was no scream from the one who held me, but
suddenly I was free as he convulsed violently then slid
to the ground. I tore the cloth from my face and began
gulping in the air my lungs were shrieking for, but the
more I breathed in and out, the more an odd grayness
spread across my vision. I suddenly discovered I was
down on hands and knees, the stone under me nearly
unfelt, and then somehow the cloth was back over my
nose and mouth, and the grayness overwhelmed me. . . .

SHARON GREEN
takes you to high adventure on alien worlds
The Terrilian novels
□		THE WARRIOR WITHIN	(#UE2146—$3.50)
□		THE WARRIOR ENCHAINED (#UE2118—$3.95)
□		THE WARRIOR REARMED (#UE2147—$3.50)
□		THE WARRIOR CHALLENGED (#UE2144—$3.50)
Jalav: Amazon Warrior
□		THE CRYSTALS OF MIDA (#UE2149—$3.50)
□		AN OATH TO MIDA	(#UE 1829—$2.95)
□		CHOSEN OF MIDA	(#UE1927—$2.95)
□		THE WILL OF THE GODS (#UE2039—$3.50)
□		TO BATTLE THE GODS	(#UE2128—$3.50)
Diana Santee: Spaceways Agent
□		MIND GUEST	(#UE1973—$3.50)
□		GATEWAY TO XANADU	(#UE2089—$3.95)
Other Novels
□		THE REBEL PRINCE	(#UE2199—$3.50)
□		THE FAR SIDE OF FOREVER (#UE2212—$3.50)
NEW AMERICAN LIBRARY
P.O. Bai 999, Ssrgenfleld, New Jersey 07621
Please send me the OAW BOOKS I have checked above. I am enclosing $_
DAW
(check or money order—no currency or C O O 's) Please include the list price plus
$1.00 per order to cover handling costs. Prices and numbers are subject to change
without notice.
Name 				
Address			
City	State	Zip	
Please allow 4-6 weeks tor delivery.

SHAROn GREEN
DAW BOOKS, INC.
DONALD A. WOLLHEIM, PUBLISHER
1633 Broadway, New York, NY 10019

Copyright © 1987 by Sharon Green.
All Rights Reserved.
Cover art by Ken Kelly.
DAW Book Collectors No. 729.
Dedication:
For Cathy Palfy, for starting it all and making me do it;
For Frank Adler, for helping me window-shop and ask the
right questions;
And last but certainly not least—
For Bob Rosenberg, who from first to last made it all
possible and understandable.
Thanks for bringing me into the
computer age!
First Printing, December 1987
12 3 4 5 6 7 8 9
PRINTED IN THE U. S. A.

Chapter 1
The snow and ice had degenerated to slush that wasn't re-
freezing even after dark, but Timper still disliked riding
through it over the cobbles of the city. Oncoming spring had
much more pleasant signs in the south, ones which didn't
make the streets slippery and unsafe even for a sure-footed
mount, and the young courier wished he was back there.
Despite the heavy woolen cloak over his clothing he was
cold, but the dratted cold wasn't bad enough to distract him
from his problems, only bad enough to be an additional
burden. His problems remained just as clear in his mind as
they had been.
A part of which was having to plod up and down the streets
of the northern city of Fyerlin, trying to find the one he was
supposed to deliver his message to. The torches on the heavy
stone buildings he passed laughed at him for his initial
naivete in believing that that would be the simplest part of his
commission, merely needing the time to reach the lady at her
aunt's house. Since the skirmishing had already resumed,
having no patience to await a proper spring and summer due
to the presence of so many Sword Companies, where else
would the daughter of a Duke be found but safely beside her
aunt? The Countess herself had a strong, competent House
Guard, well-armed and able to repel attempted incursions
during that time of war and unrest, so where else would her
niece be but—
With one of those Sword Companies.
Timper sighed, overwhelmingly relieved that he would not
need to be the one to tell that to the Duke. After the death of
the Duchess, the Duke had sent his eldest daughter to live
5

6
Sharon Green
with his sister-in-law, the Countess Illi of Fyerlin, intending
to see his child raised with all the necessary graces taught
her, graces the ladies of his own house seemed unable to
impart to her. The child had been about eleven at the time,
and the Countess was well known for her no-nonsense atti-
tudes and iron determination. The strong-willed child would
be given no recourse save to obey her and learn the womanly
virtues. . . .
This time Timper shivered into his cloak, bewildered as to
what might have gone wrong. The lady, now a woman, was
not to be found sitting demurely beside her aunt, a fact which
Timper was prepared to swear pleased the Countess! When
he had politely requested an audience with the lady, he had
been settled in a chair, handed a glass of sherry, and then
gently told that the lady wasn't there. If it was truly impera-
tive that he see her, her whereabouts might be gotten from the
Company clerk of the Silver Gleaming, one of the Sword
Companies camped and billeted in and around Fyerlin. How
she had gotten involved with one of the Blades of a Sword
Company no one seemed prepared to discuss, but Timper
prayed he wasn't too late. It was hardly likely that her
virginity was still intact, not if she had been in the company
of a Blade for longer than five minutes, but that was the
Duke's concern and the concern of the lady's future husband.
His was that he be spared the necessity of having to bring her
home already married—or, worse yet, unmarried but preg-
nant. The Duke's temper was unlikely to register the fact that
his courier was scarcely apt to be the one responsible. . . .
The lady Sofaltis of the Duchy of Gensea, involved with a
Blade of a Sword Company!
Timper's shudder reached through to his mount, causing the
patient, steady beast to raise its head in momentary distrac-
tion. The gelding was hardly the sort of horse to grow
skittish, for which Timper was profoundly grateful. He was
skittish enough for the two of them, especially after being
sent by the Company clerk to the barracks, and from the
barracks to a house in the city itself. His demanding the
whereabouts of the lady Sofaltis had gotten him no more than
grinning silence, and he'd actually had to pay those oversized
mercenaries for what he needed to know: where the lady was,
and nothing more. The least they could have done was tell

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER
7
him which of the Blades she was involved with, of high rank
or low, so that he would have some idea of the amount of
difficulty he would face when the man found he was to lose
the lady's company. Possibly he should have hired his return
escort before continuing his search, but mercenaries were so
unreasonably expensive, and he had no idea how long it
would take the lady to have her gowns and possessions
packed.
Timper sighed again as he automatically counted streets,
then guided his horse right into one whose name post was
conspicuously absent. It was the third or fourth he'd passed
that had been rendered anonymous in just that way, the
expected fruits of having carousing mercenaries rollicking
through a city. Duke Rilfe would never have allowed that to
happen in their city, but what else was to be expected of
those of the north? Even the nobility there seemed touched
with the same tainted outlook, looseness of morals, little or
no sense of duty, a scandalous lack of piety—why, when
he'd asked the Countess if he might have a moment or two
with her house priest for the easing of his soul, she'd actually
informed him that her house had only a priest of Evon, no
priest of Grail! The courier was sure he'd successfully hidden
his shock at that, but the Countess hadn't been equally suc-
cessful at masking her unexplained amusement.
There, almost exactly mid-block on the left, was certainly
the house he'd been directed to look for! Timper took in the
three torches burning calmly on the front of the large, set-
back, freely-standing house, the modest metal spear-fence
that stood invitingly open, the demurely draped windows that
nevertheless showed a hint of lamplight behind them, and
guided his mount through the fence and toward the high-
pillared front door. He still had no idea whose house he was
about to peremptorily enter, but that made little difference to
him. He was a courier, empowered to enter anywhere and
everywhere to deliver his message, and that would be known
to whomever resided in that house. If he hadn't been so cold
he would have straightened his shoulders and raised his chin,
but gestures like that would have to wait until he was indoors
and warm again.
As he drew rein and began to dismount in front of the wide
steps of the residence, the front door opened unexpectedly

8
Sharon Green
and a boy emerged, muffled to the ears and wearing a woolen
cap which couldn't have offset the thinness of his threadbare
coat and trousers. The boy pulled the door shut behind him,
hurried recklessly down the slippery-looking steps into the
torchlit night, then put a thin hand on Timper's bridle.
"I'll see to him for you, sir," the boy said in a voice that
cracked more from the cold than his age, bobbing where he
stood in a parody of proper bowing. "You go right on in to
where it's warm, an' I'll put him in the sheds behind."
Timper nodded and surrendered his mount without demur-
ral, pleasantly surprised to see that the amenities weren't
entirely lost to those of the north, then climbed the steps
toward the front door. Behind him the boy had hesitated very
briefly before leading his horse away, just as though he had
expected something more from Timper than a nod, but he
couldn't imagine what that might be. Residences in the south
always had a boy to see to one's horse, and they never
expected more than a nod. After all, was he expected to give
stabling directions for what would be a visit of no more than
a few minutes at the most?
The door opened again as Timper reached it, this time wide
enough to let him enter. The entrance hall was lamplit and
warm, especially when the servingman closed the door be-
hind him, then turned to give him a far more proper bow.
"Allow me to take your cloak, sir," the man offered,
already reaching for the garment in question. He was dressed
in striped silk with knee hose and buckled shoes, but the
scrupulously correct tailoring usually worn by servants of the
upper class failed to hide his outrageously large size. One
normally chose servants of lesser proportions for one's house-
hold, Timper knew, to keep one's guests from needing to
look upward in so uncomfortable a manner, but he was hardly
there to school those of the north in common courtesy. His
commission was far more important than that, and he was
anxious to get on with it.
"I shan't be staying long enough for that," Timper denied
with a wave of his hand, looking around at the polished-wood
paneling of the entrance hall and the closed doors that led
from it to the house proper. "I am a courier of the Duke Rilfe
of the House of Kienne in the Duchy of Gensea, and have

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER
9
been told that the lady Sofaltis of the same House might be
found here. I must insist that I be taken to her at once."
"I do beg your pardon, sir, but I'm afraid that that would
be a matter best discussed with my mistress," the man re-
plied, withdrawing his hands with a small, odd smile curving
his lips, 'ill have someone take you to her."
"Gad, man, have you no ears?" Timper snapped, long
since out of patience with the numberless obstructions he'd
found in his path, "I have no wish to see your mistress, I
wish to see ..."
His words ended in near-outrage as the servant dared to
turn his back and take up a small hammer lying in front of a
set of crystal bells, and then purposefully strike one of the
bells. The pure crystal tone was sweet and considerably more
penetrating than Timper would have expected, and the first
door to the right opened outward to show another servant like
the first, properly dressed but hardly properly-sized.
"This gentleman is here in search of a particular lady," the
first servant said to the second, his tone entirely uninfected.
"He will, of course, need to speak to the mistress."
"Of course," the second agreed, eyeing Timper's con-
tinued possession of a cloak but refraining from commenting on
the fact. "If you will be so kind as to follow me, sir?"
Very briefly Timper toyed with the idea of refusing while
demanding again to be taken to the lady, and had the servants
been of more usual proportions he might very well have done
so. After a moment, however, it came to him that these were,
after all, no more than ignorant servants, and the wisest
course of action might well be allowing them to lead him to
their mistress. With that in view he strode through the door
being held open for him voicing no more than a short sound
of impatience, waited until the servant closed the door again
and moved ahead, then followed wordlessly after.
Moving through the doorway had put him in a hall both
narrower and longer than the entrance hall, but one whose
floor was richly carpeted and whose paneled walls were hung
with paintings of obviously great worth. It seemed to Timper
as he walked along that the house was the residence of
someone of substantial affluence, but it wasn't quite as silent
as a residence of that sort should be. Somewhere, a distance
off, was what seemed like the sound of roistering voices, but

10
Sharon Green
perhaps it wasn't coming from that house. Perhaps those who
lived in the house were forced to endure coarse and common
but monied neighbors, and if that were so . . .
"This way, sir, if you please," the servant interrupted his
thoughts, stopping in front of a door to the right perhaps half-
way down the hall. A brief knock and then the servant
entered, halting just inside to bow to someone Timper was
unable to make out beyond the man's bulk. "Your pardon,
madam, but this gentleman informs us that he has come in
search of a specific lady. Will you see him?"
"Of course I will," came one of the sweetest, softest
voices Timper had ever heard, immediately making him wish
he might see the face that went with it. "Do show him in,
Rinson."
"Sir," the servant Rinson said, stepping aside with another
bow, one Timper was barely aware of. The servant's move-
ment had brought to view sight of his mistress, and if any-
thing the look of her was superior to the sound of her voice.
The young courier had never imagined that any woman so
clearly older than himself might touch him so quickly and
strongly, and if he hadn't been in the midst of a commission
he would likely have stood there frozen dumb. Night-black
hair and shining black eyes, skin the color of faintly blushing
cream, full red lips with a devastating smile, all above a
richly gowned body of slim elegance and grace. She was
seated behind a delicate desk of lace-like carving, obviously a
woman of responsibility as well as beauty, and he realized
he'd stepped well into the room only when he heard the
sound of the door closing somewhere behind him.
"And how may I help you, sir?" the vision asked, smiling
at him encouragingly as she straightened in her chair. "Would
you care to describe the sort of lady you seek, or would you
prefer looking about before voicing your thoughts? Do you
seek someone of your own age, or might it possibly be
someone more—experienced—that you search for? It would
be my greatest pleasure to—assist you in any manner possible."
Her lovely voice had softened and she had leaned forward,
her red lips glistening in a way that had Timper completely
convinced regarding her sincerity. His gaze had somehow
become riveted to her full, heaving bosom, a bosom less

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER
11
well-covered than perhaps she realized, and it was with the
greatest difficulty that he brought his eyes to her face again.
4'Madam, 1—" he began, then paused to bring his voice
down from the higher ranges where it had embarrassingly
strayed. "Madam, 1 thank you for your offer of assistance,
and shall most willingly accept it," he said on his second
attempt, striving to project a maturity of his own. 4'I am the
courier of Duke Riife of Gensea, and Have come seeking the
lady Sofaltis of Gensea, daughter of the Duke, for whom I
have a most urgent communication. I've been told I would
find her here in this house, and although I have never seen
her, she was described to me as being perhaps a year my
junior, delicately pretty with unusually lovely gray eyes,
brown-haired and lithe ..."
"Wait just a minute here!" the woman interrupted in
sudden annoyance, no longer appearing quite as winsome as
she had a moment earlier. "Are you saying you're here
looking for someone, an actual, real someone? You have a
message to deliver?"
4 4Hardly so simple a thing as a message," Timper re-
sponded, stung by the change in the beautiful woman's atti-
tude. 44A ducal courier is not a mere message bearer, the
responsibilities of the position are a good deal more complex
than . . ."
"But you don't deny you're here looking to talk to some-
one," the woman insisted, nearly in accusation. 44And not for
the usual reason. Well, I'm afraid I can't help you. I've never
heard of this—lady, and doubt that she's ever been here. I
wish you a pleasant evening—elsewhere."
The lovely woman had risen to her feet behind the desk,
her expression now closed and cold, and Timper found him-
self almost completely at a loss. Not only had he no desire to
leave, he could not leave before learning for certain that the
lady Sofaltis wasn't there. Firm insistence had often gotten
him what information and assistance he required, and just
then he knew he needed to try something of the same again.
"Madam, I must beg your indulgence for a few moments
more," he said at once with more desperation than assertive-
ness, not precisely the attitude he'd been attempting but one
that would have to do. "I've been informed that the lady
Sofaltis is here, in company with members of the Silver

12
Sharon Green
Gleaming, whose presence, if fact, could scarcely be missed.
Their purpose in coming here was kept from me, in a deliber-
ate attempt at vindictiveness, I believe, yet was I specifically
told . . ."
"The Silver Gleaming?" the woman interrupted, a faint,
very attractive frown suddenly shadowing her face. "Of course
there are members of the Silver Gleaming here. We happen to
be very popular with the Blades because of the balanced
variety our house offers, just as we're popular with the other
Sword Companies. I happened to see a few Fists arriving, but
there were no—ladies—with them."
The woman pronounced the word "ladies" as though it
were nearly off-color and entirely loathsome, an attitude Timper
couldn't quite understand. Not that he was able to understand
most of the rest of what he'd been told. The north, it seemed,
was far more different from the south than he'd imagined.
"What are Fists?" he asked almost warily, wondering if he
would next be able to ask about the "balanced variety" the
woman had also mentioned. He wasn't quite sure, but some-
how he had the distinct impression the concept of variety was
one he ought to be familiar with.
"Fists are special units of Sword Companies," the vision
answered, staring at him in an odd manner as she reseated
herself. "The units consist of five Blades, usually the best
Blades the Company has, and in battle they carry out initial
or crucial thrusts. Where did you say you come from?"
"A gentleman scarcely has the time to investigate every
unimportant facet of such things as Sword Companies," Timper
returned stiffly, this time stung into trying to defend himself.
He could also feel the flush in his cheeks, and nearly began
shifting in place like an ignorant child caught by his tutor.
"Are you absolutely certain there were no women with those—
Fists?"
"1 said there were no ladies with the Fists," the woman
corrected, her face smooth and serene despite the twinkle of
amusement in her eyes, her hands holding lightly to the arms
of her chair. "Ladies do badly as members of a Fist, but
female Blades are another story entirely. Most Companies
have their share of females, and although the majority of Fists
are all male, one or two have ..."
Her voice trailed off as she stared at Timper again, but this

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER
13
time he could see she stared thoughtfully. Something had
obviously occurred to her, and her next words proved the
point.
"Brown-haired and gray-eyed, lithe and young," the woman
murmured, as though hearing the description for the very first
time. "And named Sofaltis. It's just barely possible, I sup-
pose, stranger things have happened— If it is true, I'd love to
be there. ..."
The woman's eyes lost their distracted look as they sharp-
ened on Timper again with renewed amusement, and then she
grew somewhat more brisk.
"It's possible one of the Blades of the Silver Gleaming
will be able to direct you to this lady of yours," she said,
reaching for a small, delicate bell which stood at the corner of
the desk to her right. "I'll have someone take you to them,
but I warn you now: if you cause any sort of ruckus among
any of the guests, the mistress' rules will see you put out of
the house at once, whether or not you've managed to question
anyone. Have I made myself clear?"
"But—I thought you were the mistress of this house,"
Timper blurted, now entirely at a loss. "Those servants—
they said—and they brought me here to this room—"
"They thought you were looking for special attention from
someone with standing," the woman answered as she rang the
bell, this time unable to keep the smile from her face. "There
are three of us who spare the mistress that sort of—wearying
interview, four when business gets unusually brisk. You would
be surprised how many nobles and upper class merchants
insist on dealing with no one but— Ah, Rinson„"
The servant who had led Timper to that room appeared
even before the crystal voice of the bell died away, giving the
young courier no further opportunity for asking questions.
Timper felt bewildered and because of that was extremely
annoyed, but the presence of the very large servant helped
him keep firmly in mind the tenet that no true gentleman was
ever rude to a woman.
"Rinson, please show this gentleman to the area of the
house where the Blades of the Silver Gleaming are taking
their ease," the woman directed, her tone entirely neutral.
"Specifically, I would say, the Fist of Soft and Gentle. Are
you acquainted with the Blades of that Fist?"

14
Sharon Green
"Of course, Madam," the servant said, his bow tinged
more with curiosity than propriety, "if you will follow me,
sir?"
Timper had very little choice concerning the following, but
his annoyance was growing in leaps and bounds, and he was
beginning to regret not having surrendered his cloak when he
might have. Not only had the house grown extremely warm,
but the output of anger was adding itself to the discomfort of
wool. What in Home's name might the Fist of Soft and
Gentle be? Hardly the general name of something called a
Fist, but just as unlikely a sobriquet for a Blade of a Fist. The
young man stomped out of the room at the servant's gesture,
deliberately refraining from bowing to the woman whose
company he departed. Lovely she might be, but her loveli-
ness had diminished quickly with the increase of her amusement.
This time the servant led the way to the very end of the
narrow hall, and the door there gave access to an even
smaller and narrower backstairs area that was rather dim. As
soon as they had entered the dimness, however, the sound of
voices that Timper had noticed earlier became a good deal
more imposing on the former quiet. He followed the servant
through the dimness to the left, wondering what could possi-
bly be causing such a row, and then another door was opened
that answered his question as soon as he had stepped through
it into the room beyond.
"Holy Emissaries intercede for my soul!" Timper prayed
silently but fervently as he fought to k.eep the shock off his
face, his eyes seeking something innocuous to rest on. The
only trouble was, there was nothing innocuous to look at, at
least not in that well-lit room. Men dressed in the off-duty
leathers of Blades lolled everywhere on the thick carpeting,
many of them leaning elbows on cushions as they drank from
goblets or shouted in encouragement and high amusement.
The many—females—with them either had hands on them or
were being themselves explored, their scantily clad bodies
proving easily accessible, and in the midst of all that there
was a—a—dance of sorts being performed. The pretty young
thing standing alone in the middle of the floor was still clad
in a proper gown, but even as Timper watched she acceded to
the shouting around her with a sob, and began slowly remov-
ing the gown. Tears ran down her blushing cheeks as sight of

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER
15
her delicate underclothing was brutally forced from proper
privacy into the public domain, but all she received in the
way of compassion from those who watched was an increase
in their laughter. Had Timper not been certain the girl was a
slave he would have interfered no matter the consequences,
but a man would be foolish to concern himself with the
distress of a newly-made chain child, mostly especially in
what he now knew that place to be. *He had never before
visited one himself, but he had heard stories of such places;
oh, my, he certainly had.
"This way, sir," the servant Rinson said to a hopefully
unobtrusively appalled Timper, and the courier was quick to
follow across the floor behind the stiffly moving, softly sob-
bing girl. He made every effort to keep his eyes on the
servant rather than looking again at the slave, and strove to
move as rapidly as possible without giving the appearance of
hurrying. A true gentleman never looked at the unclad body
of any female, not even his wife, unless he received special
dispensation from the Holy Emissaries in acknowledgment of
his proven piety. He was then permitted to look upon the
woman he took to wife, but certainly not any other. When he
admitted to his Holy Council in Strict Truth that he had
abrogated a privilege which wasn't his, there would, without
the least doubt, be absolute hell to pay.
An arch gave access to another room like the first, only
this one had a small, dark beauty in transparent veils moving
sensuously to the sound of a pipe. Her wide, beautiful eyes
moved from one watching, grinning Blade to the next, the
smile visible on her full, pouting lips beneath her face-veil an
almost-shouted invitation, and Timper found it best to remove
his cloak as he passed her, something that helped to keep her
from his sight. Everyone knew that Blades of a Sword Com-
pany were eternally damned anyway and therefore often in-
dulged in things that made a sensible man tremble and turn
away, but possibly no one had told the Blades they were lost.
For people who were inescapably heading for eternal damna-
tion, Timper thought they appeared unexpectedly satisfied
and unworried.
The courier had his cloak thrown over his left arm by the
time he moved through the next arch, which happily gave
him something to clutch when he abruptly understood what

16
Sharon Green
he was seeing. Blades still lounged in their leathers on the
carpeting, but most of these Blades were female and the ones
attending them in oiled tights were male. If a woman was of
the nobility a man certainly did well to bow low in her
presence, but to kneel in front of a common rag, nearly naked
and obscenely exposed despite a supposed covering—! Timper
had never felt so outraged in his entire life, even if the men
were nothing but slaves! Good taste demanded restraint in
some quarter, and for a man to be made to exhibit himself
like that, slave or no, was absolutely unacceptable. Why, he
had half a mind to—
"I believe the Fists of the Silver Gleaming are to be found
in the next area, sir," the servant Rinson interrupted Timper's
silent expostulation, at the same time reminding him of the
warning he had been given. If he were going to execute his
commission he needed to restrain his perfectly proper indig-
nation, at least for a short while. After he had gotten what
answers were to be had, he would certainly speak his mind
and then dare them to do their worst. He strode after the
servant without looking again on depravity, knowing without
doubt that one who was Saved had nothing to fear from those
who were damned.
Which high-minded attitude took him through the arch and
into the next room, but not beyond the first two steps. Once
again the majority of Blades were male and their attendants
female, but three female Blades sat among them, no two of
the women together, half a dozen male attendants also rather
visible. Laughter came from many of the Blades, squealing
arising from one of the attending females being held down
out of sight by four of the men, but none of that was what
struck Timper speechless. The sight that froze him was of
three of the male attendants, all lined up and posturing in
front of one of the female Blades, arms flexing muscle,
chests inflated and hips rolling suggestively—
But the rag wasn't even watching! Men were trying to
catch the attention of a female, and she wasn't even paying
attention!
Timper closed his eyes for a moment and fought to contain
his outrage, memory of his commission alone making it
possible for him to do so. Females forcing males to grovel
and demean themselves was bad enough, but for the female

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER
17
to then turn around and ignore them—! Such arrogance was
intolerable, and completely unacceptable to a gentleman of
Timper's station; he would ask his questions and then re-
soundingly denounce the rag, and yes, the men with her as
well. If she had never been taught better, they certainly
should have been. The servant Rinson was moving forward,
toward the very group Timper meant to confront, and once he
had followed and gotten near enough, 'their words separated
from the background din.
"... could have had our backsides sliced if we hadn't
withdrawn when we did," one of the men was saying to
another, the speaker a big man with black hair and light eyes
who sat to the right of the female Blade. "If Seepar thinks
he'll be riding back for us again, he's suffering from the
effects of too long a time substituting other things for girls."
"I heard he did the same to one of the Fists of the Crimson
Rush just before first snow," the female Blade remarked, the
disgust in her voice evident even in the midst of the surround-
ing noise. "If the Opened Throats Company wants his so-
called Fist, they're more than welcome to it, but we'll have to
insist on saying our good-byes now—to the Blades he'll
supposedly be supporting."
"He's really that bad then," the man who had been spoken
to said, sighing where he sat at the first man's right. He was
also large with longish, dark hair, but his eyes were dark
rather than light. "After the losses we took just before first
snow, I was hoping to recruit some seasoned fighters for the
Opened Throats rather than the green lads we've been attract-
ing, but I'll take green over yellow any day."
"Yellow might not be the proper color for Seepar and his
four," the woman said, then turned her head to the man who
sat between her and the second man. "Rullin, old sage,
what's the color of incompetence?"
"Red," the man replied with a grin, reaching over to
tousle the girl's brown hair. "For all the blood they'll be
losing one of these days, hopefully their own. And the next
time you refer to me as old, you female infant, I'll turn you
over my knee and see to it that you'll need to walk to battle
for the next day or three. Instead of needling your unit leader,
why don't you pay some attention to those three over there?

18
Sharon Green
They're half killing themselves trying to get you to choose
one of them for tonight, and you ought to be flattered."
"Flattered isn't what I'm in the mood to be," the girl
answered, leaning back on one elbow while continuing to
stare at the man called Rullin. "Pleasured is what I'm in the
mood to be, but my unit leader has suddenly grown too old
and infirm to manage that. Someone not a Blade might think
he was afraid of a mere female infant."
The girl's insolence shocked Timper and caused the Fist
leader Rullin to begin straightening in anger where he sat, but
the servant Rinson interrupted before anything more might be
said.
"I do beg your pardon, sirs and madam," he said, bowing
to those who reluctantly took their attention from other things.
"The house dislikes disturbing guests during their relaxation,
but this gentleman was quite insistent about speaking to
members of the Silver Gleaming, and one of our staff sug-
gested your Fist. There is someone he is in search of."
The servant looked toward Timper then, and all the eyes of
those he'd been addressing followed suit, momentarily dis-
concerting the young courier. One is looked at many times in
one's life, but not often by so large a number of Blades.
Their eyes were—different, somehow, harder, perhaps, with
gazes unwavering and sharp. Timper found the need to clear
his throat, then straightened where he stood.
"I am the courier of Duke Rilfe of Gensea, and have been
told that I might learn the whereabouts of the Duke's eldest
daughter from this Company," he said in more of a rush than
he had expected to, oddly eager to have the words spoken so
that he might depart. "I would greatly appreciate being di-
rected to her correct location."
"You expect Blades to be entrusted with the location of a
lady?" the man who, from the device on the medallion about
his neck, was a member of the Opened Throats Company,
asked with a snort of ridicule. He had been the second man in
the discussion just past, and seemed greatly amused. "Do
your people also believe in having wolves guard their
henhouses, boy?"
"It was not I who arranged4he matter so," Timper replied
with stiffly affronted dignity; "boy" indeed! "Had I had a
say in it, I assure you it would have been done differently. If

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER
19
none of you has the information I seek, I will now take my
leave."
"Calm your rush, boy," the Fist leader Rullin suggested in
a drawl as Timper was about to turn away, the easy words
very much a command. "One who walks about unarmed in
company such as this would be wise to polish his good
manners. For what reason are you looking for this Duke's
daughter?"
Timper was taken aback by everything the man had said,
perhaps most forcefully by the suggestion that a Duke's
courier was not considered untouchable by the men he spoke
with. He realized then how barbaric those of the north really
were and that he was trapped in the midst of them, but there
was little he could do just then to alter the situation. The man
Rullin, he thought, had deliberately called him "boy," most
likely to stress his place among Blades; despite the talk of
age, the Fist leader had seen, at most, a decade more of life
than Timper. Very briefly the young courier considered refus-
ing an answer to the question .which had been put to him; the
patient and not-so-patient gazes resting on him, however,
caused him to reconsider the idea.
"I seek the lady Sofaltis so that I may deliver the ex-
tremely urgent communication entrusted to me," Timper ad-
mitted, suddenly and unhappily aware of exactly how long he
would retain the Duke's letter if these ruffians should attempt
taking it from him. "A family tragedy has occurred, and the
Duke wishes the lady to be informed of it."
Timper had spoken the truth without thinking, but it sud-
denly came to him that that very same truth should cool their
interest. No gold being sent and no secret messages, nothing
but news of a tragedy, and what man would find interest in
the tragedies of others? Already the eyes of Rullin had lost
their look of amusement, but the girl beside him had abruptly
straightened to sitting, as though disturbed over something.
The Blade leader Rullin noticed the movement as well, and
quickly turned his head to her.
"It's your turn to be calm, Soft and Gentle," he said to the
female, making no effort to put an arm about her to ease her
sudden upset as a gentleman might. "We'll have this straight-
ened out in another minute or so." Then he looked up again at

20
Sharon Green
Tirnper and added, "How were you supposed to identify the
lady Sofaltis?"
"Why—I've been given her description," Timper replied
in confusion, in the midst of registering the name the girl had
been called by. Women were, for the most part, soft and
gentle, but by the look of her and the words she had spoken,
there was a misnomer if ever he'd heard one. "Perhaps a
year my junior, brown-haired and gray-eyed, tall and lithe ..."
Timper's words trailed off as the girl rose gracefully to her
feet before him, her faintly pretty face expressionless. Her
black off-duty leathers fit like the skin they were, her black
boots appeared sturdy but well broken in, the sword hung at
her side was plain-hilted and no longer new, and the silver
medallion of her Company gleamed in the lamplight. It star-
tled Timper to realize that he needed to look up, for the girl
was taller than he even though she seemed somewhat younger—
and then he began registering certain additional items. Her
form was lithe, her face pretty, her hair brown, her eyes
gray. . . .
"I am the lady Sofaltis," the female said in a voice much
like that which the Blade Rullin had used, putting a hand out
toward Timper. "Give me my father's letter."
At another time, Timper would have been quick to argue or
obey; at that time, however, he was too deeply in shock to do
either thing. He had thought the lady Sofaltis indiscreetly
involved with a Blade of a Sword Company, but that wasn't
so. Far, far worse, she was a Blade of a Sword Company!
* * *
The young idiot just stood there staring at me, his long face
pale enough to rival flour. Someone had dressed him in the
tights, tunic and short boots no one but very young pages
wore in the north, and if I hadn't been so upset I would have
felt sorry for him. It wasn't really his fault he looked like a
pompous ass, or that I have very littie patience with pompous
asses.
"I said, give me my father's letter," I repeated, having no
idea what could have happened, but anxious to find out.
"How long ago were you dispatched?"
"Why—why—five weeks and some days ago," he an-

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER
21
swered, finally snapping out of it enough to begin fumbling at
his tunic. "The roads were terrible and the accommodations
worse, but—but—how do 1 know you're the lady Sofaltis? I
must insist upon seeing your signet ring."
"My aunt 111! has my signet ring, and you know damned
well who I am," I countered, snapping my fingers in impa-
tience as he winced at what he undoubtedly considered dread-
ful language. "You couldn't have found rfre if my aunt hadn't
set you going in the right direction, and that direction led
here. Stop quibbling and give me the letter."
"Take it slow, Soft and Gentle," Rullin said as he got to
his feet, Foist, Jakkar and Hammis rising with him. "1 doubt
if the boy's used to our sort, and he needs some time to
adjust. She is who she says she is, boy, so you'd better give
her that letter. If you make her take it from you, you'll be
responsible for our needing to find another house to pass the
night in. This house has rules against staining the carpeting
with blood."
Rull was being his usual light-heartedly mediating self, but
the boy my father had sent wasn't finding much comfort in
the attempt to put him at ease with joking. His wide, dark
eyes moved from one member of my Fist to the next, noticing
how every one of them was larger even than I, and then the
heavy paper of a sealed envelope was being thrust into my
hand. I automatically checked the seal before breaking it,
withdrew the letter and read it quickly, then turned back to
where I'd left my cup of wine.
"How bad is it?" Rull asked quietly from behind me,
concern in his voice. "From your expression it can't be good,
but how bad is bad?"
I took a minute to swallow some wine before turning back,
then looked directly at him.
"My brother Rymar is dead," I got out with more diffi-
culty than I'd expected to have, feeling as though saying the
words aloud was what made them true. "After our oldest
brother's accident Rymar was named Father's heir, but Rymar
always considered that a responsibility rather than a privi-
leged right. Now he's dead too, but not because of any
accident. They tried to make it look like one, but only a fool
would have believed that, and my father's no fool. Rymar
was deliberately killed."

22
Sharon Green
"Who's 'they'?" Jakkar asked in his rumble of a voice,
his big left hand unconsciously stroking his sword hilt. "And
why would they want to kill a Ducal heir and not go after the
Duke himself first?"
"1 don't know," I admitted, annoyed at the lack of logic to
the thing. "It's clear they want my father's heir dead, but not
him. And as for who 'they' are, I don't know that either. I
have a feeling my father knows, but I don't."
"If he doesn't know yet, I'm willing to bet he's working
on it," Rull commented, having heard of my father even
before I'd joined the Fist. "Was Rymar your father's last
living son?"
"He just might have been," I said, swallowing again at
my wine. "My other brothers, one older than me and one
younger, haven't been heard from for years, which probably
means they're both dead. There's no other reason for them
not to have let Father know where they are. Except for my
two little sisters, all that leaves is me."
"Who will be doing what?" Rull asked, a question Foist,
Jakkar and Hammis were also interested in having answered.
Fists are closer than most families, closer even than marriage,
and what affects one of its Blades affects the other four as
well. "Will you need to go home for a while to pay your
respects, or was your father simply sending you a warning?"
"My father wants me home, but not to pay my respects," I
said with the reluctance firmly back in place, not exactly
avoiding the four pairs of eyes on me, but not quite meeting
them either. "I don't know what he has in mind, but he
definitely and specifically wants me home. And besides that,
he wouldn't be sending me the sort of warning you mean.
He—doesn't know I'm a Blade."
I used the relative resulting silence to look up—relative in
relation to the carousing still going on in the rest of the
room—and found that I would have been better off continu-
ing to avoid the stares of my Fistmates. They weren't exactly
furious, or at least Foist, Jak and Ham weren't.
"That's not quite what you said when you joined the
Company," Rull pointed out with a growl after a moment,
his light eyes filled with dagger points. "Of course my family
knows all about this, you said. Of course I have their permis-

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER
23
sion, you said. They know all about what I'm doing and they
approve, you said."
"My aunt 111 i knew and approved," I countered, wishing
Rull would stop looking at me like that. "I wasn't trying to
make trouble for the Company, but if I'd asked my father he
probably would have refused permission, and I wasn't of age
yet. Was 1 supposed to go home and sit quietly while waiting
for the years to go by? I wasn't lying, I simply didn't tell all
of the truth."
"Oh, is that all you did?" Rull said, folding his arms
across his chest while the others sighed or shook their heads
or rubbed their eyes. "The fact that your father's a Duke is
completely beside the point, is it? If he'd found out and had
gone foaming at the idea, he couldn't have done more than
asked the King to have our Company disbanded and out-
lawed, now could he? Of course he couldn't, so why would
we be upset? You didn't do anything more serious than
jeopardize the lives of everyone in the Company. Talk about
Seepar. The only lives he endangers are the five of the Fist
he's supposed to be backing."
There was no amusement of any sort in Rullin, not in his
eyes or his face or his voice, and it suddenly came to me that
there was no longer any extraneous noise in the room. Every-
one was listening, every Blade there had heard what he'd
said, and it didn't matter that Rullin was right about what I'd
done. Fistmates don't say things like that to one another, not
when they want to continue being Fistmates, but that, of
course, was the whole point. He'd been trying to tell me that
not only was I about to leave, I also needn't bother coming
back. I'd been wondering why he'd been avoiding me the last
couple of weeks and had been trying to tease him out of
whatever his problem was, but it looked like the problem
went too deep for teasing. He'd taken the very first opportu-
nity to invite me out of the Fist, and although it hurt more
than I'd ever be able to explain to an outsider, I wasn't
someone who believed in staying where I wasn't wanted. I
held his gaze for a long moment after he'd fallen silent, then
simply turned and got out of there.
I had to push my way through onlookers and a sudden
babble of disturbed conversation, but size and determination
count for quite a lot in a situation like that. I felt as though

24
Sharon Green
I'd just lost four of the five fingers of my sword hand, but
that, of course, is what it's all about. A fist is a hand closed
and ready to fight, the same thing a Fist is, especially the
closed part. When a Fist is forced open it's never done
without pain, and I've always preferred licking my wounds in
private.
I strode through the areas until I reached the door leading
to the front hall, threw it open then left it for one of the
servants to close behind me, and didn't realize I was being
followed until the door was closed and most of the revel-
noise was cut off. Hurrying footsteps sounded behind me,
and then came the voice of someone I'd forgotten about
entirely.
"My lady, I really must insist that you wait for me," that
ass of a courier complained, obviously having trouble keep-
ing up. "I am, after all, the one your father sent to escort you
home."
Which shows how hard my father was trying to protect my
virtue, I thought rather than said, gesturing to the door ser-
vant to find my cloak. Those of the south placed a much
higher value on virginity than northerners did, which also
showed how vastly more intelligent northerners were.
"I shall hire an escort for us first thing tomorrow," the ass
babbled on, making no effort to take back the letter I discov-
ered I still held. "Should you be able to tell me how quickly
you expect your maids at the Countess' house to pack your
clothing and possessions, I'll know when to tell the escort
to . . ."
"There won't be an escort," I said, staring at the letter I
held as the idea came to me. "I'll be leaving for home
tonight, after I make a few necessary stops, and if you intend
coming with me you'd better be prepared to move fast and
ride hard. I want to be home as soon as humanly possible."
"But—but—my lady!" he protested, back to being shocked.
"You mean to ride the entire distance alone? With the pro-
tection of no one but myself?"
"Oh, I'm sure you won't have any trouble supplying me
with all the protection I need," I murmured, turning away
from his wide-eyed and stunned disbelief. I'd stop at my
barracks to pick up my gear, at the Company clerk's to hand
in my resignation, and at my aunt illi's to thank her for all

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER
25
she'd done for me. Right after that I'd start for home, and
once I got there my father would know his troubles were
over.
My brother Rymar had been one of those people everyone
liked, the sort whose every word and gesture told you he
would never hurt you, the sort who never caused harm to
anyone or anything. It was one of the furiously unfair parts of
life that people like Rymar usually ended up being hurt,
swept out of the way like dust before those who never minded
hurting everyone they could reach. As my father's heir he'd
been a prime and easy target, but our enemies would not find
it the same with the one who would next be heir.
The only one left to be heir.
Me.
With no Fist to go back to, with no brothers to claim the
Duchy, what other course of action made as much sense? My
father needed an heir and I needed something to do with my
life, and even if my father hadn't already thought of it on his
own, he would certainly welcome the suggestion. We hadn't
seen each other for five years, and he'd be pleased and proud
at what I'd learned and done. As I took my cloak from the
servant I tucked the letter into my swordbelt, more anxious
than ever to be home again and started with my new life.
* * *
Sofaltis stared at Rullin with a look that made him feel as
though he'd savaged something small and helpless, and then
she turned and forced her way through the gathered crowd to
disappear from sight. His first urge was to go after her and
tell her he hadn't really meant what he'd said, but Rullin had
spent most of his life training himself to ignore first impulses.
By the time he knew he should have done it anyway the
miserable female infant was not only out of sight, but proba-
bly gone from the house as well. He unfolded his arms,
muttering curses at himself under his breath, then turned to
find the eyes of the rest of his Fist on him.
"Nice going, Rull," Foist said with a judicious nod, fold-
ing his arms as his very pale eyes pinned Rullin where he
stood. "I've never been able to draw blood like that without

26
Sharon Green
using my sword. You should run a Company practice in the
technique."
"Why in hell did you just let her walk away like that?"
Hammis demanded, fists on hips and dark eyes blazing.
"Why didn't you stop her?"
"Maybe he forgot how long it took us to find a fifth for
our Fist who actually suited all of us," Jakkar rumbled,
another pair of dark, accusing eyes. "Maybe he was afraid
she was starting to get ideas about him, and he wanted to get
rid of her before she did."
"Are you all happy now?" Rullin growled back, sending
his glare to each of them in turn. "Since I couldn't tell on my
own what a stupid thing I'd done, you three had to do the
telling for me. Do you have it out of your systems now, or is
there something else you'd like to add?"
"I still want to know why you didn't stop her," Hammis
persisted, too angry himself to care about Rullin's anger. "It
wasn't as if she tried to hurt the Company on purpose, and
there are more than a few of us still walking around who
wouldn't be if she hadn't joined up. Is Jak right? Did you
think she was after you, so you either had to run yourself or
make her do it?"
"Don't be stupider than you look, Ham," Rullin said in
disgust, wishing he could get back to his drink but knowing
he had to first settle things in his Fist. "Soft and Gentle
wasn't after me or she would have said so. She was just in
the mood for my brand of wrestling, and laughed when I told
her she had to learn to ask nice. She tried to play stubborn, so
I did too, which is what probably started it all. She knows I
like spreading myself around too much to ever settle down,
so which one of you thinks she's dim enough to get a taste for
me anyway? I didn't stop her because I'd really put my foot
in it, and if I'd tried to force her to listen to an apology, she
probably would have drawn on me. Tomorrow morning she'll
be easier to talk to, and more likely to listen to what's being
said. Especially if you three are right there behind me. Are
you three going to be right there behind me?"
"We're trying to decide if it would look better or worse
with our points in your back," Foist said, running a hand
through his long blond hair. "I don't like the idea of Soft and
Gentle feeling hurt like that, even for just one night. What if

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER
27
she goes out and gets into a fight? She's all alone, so how
would we know about it?"
"Alone she isn't," Jakkar told him, just in time to keep
Hammis from exploding again. "That little twerp in the tights
went trotting off after her, and if anything happens even he'll
be smart enough to come back and get us. As long as he's
first of all smart enough not to get in her way."
"Maybe you're right about waiting until tomorrow," Foist
grudged to Rullin, turning aside to reach down for his wine
cup. "If we've got to send her home for a while, a proper
sendoff'll make her feel better—and bring her back faster."
"And meanwhile we get to fight one Blade short," Hammis
muttered, going after his own cup. "Which is better than
adding a temporary fifth we don't know and can't count on.
Fighters should have to give up their families when they
become Blades."
"We're all jealous of her family, Ham, but she's not going
back there to stay," Foist said with a small laugh, clapping
the other big man on the back. "Before we know it she'll be
here again, right where she belongs. You get born into a
family, but a Fist goes a lot deeper than that."
Jakkar added something to that that made Hammis snort
out a laugh, but Rullin wasn't listening any longer. He sat
down to retrieve his wine cup and emptied it in a swallow,
then gestured to one of the servants to refill it. If the other
three thought they were wild over what had happened, they
should feel it from his point of view. Maybe it was the
thought of Softy's going home that had pushed him so far out
of line, or maybe it was the way he'd been feeling for the last
couple of weeks. Rullin didn't know what he wanted or how
he felt about all that, but one thing he did know: there wasn't a
girl in the house who suited him as well as Soft and Gentle
did, which meant the night ahead was going to be a very long
one.

Chapter 2
The inn was probably the best in the east, large and sprawling
and well-staffed, usually worth the high prices charged. From
midspring to- late summer travelers on the highway streamed
in and out of it, but that early in the season there were only a
few, risking an unexpected return to winter simply because
they had to. The man who stood looking out of one of the
windows of his suite was one such, but the smile on his lips
as he stared down into the courtyard below said the risk was
unimportant in the face of what daring it brought. The smile
was one of pride and very deep affection, and if there had
been anyone in his rooms to see the expression, it would have
pleased him even more.
Below in the courtyard were a number of young men, some
sitting about drinking, some laughingly enjoying the shy but
eager attention of the wenches who had brought the drink,
others paying heed only to what was occurring in the middle
of the yard. Two of the young men were stripped to the waist
despite the coolness in the air, and each of them held a
wooden practice sword. Both were clearly fighting men, well
made and in excellent condition, but one of the two stood
taller and broader than the other, the wooden sword he held
fitting his palm like living steel. His hair was a very pale
brown, so pale it almost seemed an unwashed yellow, and the
color of his light, laughing eyes appeared to change now and
again, possibly with his mood. The two had done with cir-
cling and now struck at each other, without shields to catch
the blows, without mail to deflect the strokes, speed alone
combined with skill to keep the young fighters from reaching
one another.
28

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER
29
The exchange had gone on only a handful of minutes
before the man watching from his window knew the smaller
of the two fighters had underestimated the larger. The major-
ity of really big men depended on strength and size to win
their set-tos for them, a combination which was usually sus-
ceptible to the superior one of speed and skill. The big man
below, however, had clearly developed speed and skill of his
own, and had simply combined them with* size and strength.
His heavy wooden sword moved so fast it might have been
made of parchment instead, but when it struck the frantically
defending second fighter, the man knew there was nothing of
parchment about it. His cry of pain reached the watcher
above as his left hand flew to his ribs, and then he was seated
rocking on the flagstones, and the match was done.
"Damned fine swordsmanship, damned fine," the watcher
muttered to himself, pride swelling his chest and straighten-
ing him where he stood. Below, the victorious fighter had his
hands full, this time needing to defend himself from the
adoring excitement and congratulations of the serving wenches.
When the fighter laughingly proved himself incapable of
successful defense against an attack of that sort the watcher
chuckled, silently advising him to collect what kisses and
caresses he might as quickly as possible. Another watcher
now approached the young man, also grinning, and the mes-
sage he meant to deliver would take the young man from the
midst of pleasant diversion.
The watcher had left the window and was pouring two cups
of wine when the rap came at the door, but he made no effort
to go and open it. The opening of the door from without was
fully expected, and when he turned he saw the young fighter
being urged inside with tunic and swordbelt filling his hands.
He smiled his greeting as he moved forward, and the young
man answered with surprised pleasure as the door was closed
behind him.
"Father, you came yourself!" he exclaimed, throwing aside
both tunic and swordbelt to stride forward with arms out-
stretched. "1 was expecting your agent."
"The problem is too important, Kylin," the older man said
as he and his son embraced with muscle-cracking strength
and backslapping which would have felled lesser men. The
older was nearly the size of the younger, and despite the dis-

30
Sharon Green
parity in their ages it was clear to any with eyes that the older
was an even more seasoned fighter than the younger.
"There's trouble at home?" the fighter Kylin asked with a
frown, standing at arm's length from his father. "Is that the
reason you sent for me? Are any of my brothers hurt?"
"The trouble isn't in our own duchy," the older man said
with a shake of his head, gesturing his son into returning with
him to where the wine stood. "Your brothers, thanks to the
skill they've developed from their war training, have crushed
enough underhanded attacks to send those scheming cowards
looking elsewhere for easier prey. Unfortunately for our king-
dom, they found easy pickings in the Duchy of Gensea.i'
"Duke Rilfe is beset?" Kylin asked, accepting a cup but
not drinking from it. "I would have expected him to be one
of the last attacked, what with the size of his levy, the high
quality of their training and arming, and the unswerving
loyalty they all feel for him. Is it Prince Traffis' troops?"
"Prince Traffis is still too well occupied in the northern
duchy to spare the men and attention," the older man an-
swered with another shake of his head, his annoyance causing
him to swallow his wine rather than sip at it. "When he first
marched across the northern border with his foreign army,
claiming to be the rightful heir to the throne his older brother
sat on, we all expected the King's army to make short work
of him. And then Zeran attacked from the northwest into our
own western duchy of Arthil, and even with our levy we
needed most of the King's troops to keep them out. I've
always regretted the lack of a mountain range in Arthil; prime
farmlands and grazing tracts are too hard to defend in a
climate like ours."
"From the word going around, you haven't done badly,"
Kylin said with a grin, amused to hear his father's favorite
complaint again. "Zeran lost so many troops before first
snow last year, that there's silver backing the theory you'll be
facing more Zeranese females than males this spring. It's said
they haven't enough'men to service so many women, so
they're putting the prettier ones in mail and sending them out
ahead of the regulars. That's to force the regulars out of their
hidey-holes, of course, and let them know there's nothing left
at home worth deserting for. If it turns out to be true, it'll make
this year's campaign a lot more interesting than last year's."

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER
31
44So you did show up for some of the fighting," the Duke
Trame of Arthil said, looking at his son over the rim of his
raised cup. "I thought we agreed you would stay in the north,
leading that contingent of the King's Knights? The fighting
there grow too tame for you, did it?"
"As a matter of fact, it slacked off sooner than we ex-
pected it to," Kylin answered with pure, wide-eyed inno-
cence, gesturing with his cup to underscore that innocence.
"My men were tired but I hadn't been fighting as hard as
they had, so while they rested I rode home to see how your
own war was going. I didn't intend doing more than stopping
for a day or so before heading back, but somehow I ended up
in the middle of a skirmish, and your men had just lost their
commander, and the Zeranese outnumbered them, and 1 was
in so deep so fast I couldn't simply ride away again."
"All right, all right, enough," his father surrendered, shak-
ing his head at the young fighter's immediate grin. "I should
have known better than to try pinning you down, especially
when you knew two of your younger brothers were also in the
north. If you hadn't been there we would have lost every man
of that command, but you weren't supposed to spread your-
self so thin, especially not by shifting back and forth between
wars. What would have happened if you'd been killed?"
"With three older brothers and four younger, all in excel-
lent health and as skilled with a sword as their father?" Kylin
asked with a laugh of amusement and an uncaring movement
of his massive shoulders. "I like to think there would have
been a few tears at my final sendoff, and not only from my
mother and father and brothers, but aside from that? The loss
of a Duke's fourth son is hardly likely to shatter the kingdom."
"In this instance, that's not entirely true," the Duke said,
all traces of amusement gone from him. "You know Duke
Rilfe and I are old friends, closer even than some brothers.
What you don't know about is the agreement we came to,
some two years ago at the King's coronation. In those days I
thought I was the only one capable of seeing the undercur-
rents in the wind, but my old friend had noticed what I had,
and had seen how he might be caught up in them to stran-
gling. Once he spoke to me of it we formulated a plan and
hoped it would never be needed, but word was recently sent

32
Sharon Green
me that all hope is gone. Sit down, Kylin, and I'll begin the
tale from its proper starting point."
Each man settled himself in one of the deep leather arm-
chairs standing in front of the polite fire in the hearth, and
Kylin took a swallow of his wine, glad now that the fire was
there. The air outside was mild compared to what he had left
in the north, but the sitting room felt as though the new-
coming season hadn't yet caught up to the winter. Without
the fire he would have needed his tunic, and that despite the
light sheen of sweat that hadn't yet dried on him.
"More than two years ago, well before the King's corona-
tion, a new High Priest was anointed among those who serve
Grail the All-Seeing," the Duke began slowly, searching
what wine remained in his cup for the proper words of
description. "The previous High Priest of the god had not
been a young man for the last two or three decades, so his
being called Home came as a surprise to no one. What did
come as a surprise, however, was the identity of the man
chosen as successor to the old High Priest. The man was a
good deal younger than was usual, not yet into his under-
fourth decade, and not even of the Purist faction that had
been the source of the last two dozen High Priests at the very
least. The man had been Brother Nimram before the anoint-
ing, and afterward chose to call himself His Holiness Nimram I.
"We who heard of it were surprised—and some few
shocked—to learn that a whole man had been seated as High
Priest, but there was no true law, either secular or clerical,
against it, and our preferences and opinions had not been
invited. A number of the older counts and barons, more than
shocked, sent a delegation to the old King asking that he
instruct the priests to see to it that their new High Priest be
immediately neutered like his predecessors. In their opinion it
was not only tradition, you see, but far safer with so powerful
an organization as the far-flung Servants of Grail, but the
delegation arrived to find themselves too late. King Klieant
IV had, in his senility, gone hunting against the advice of his
physicians, and had fallen so seriously ill from the outing that
he lay closer to death than to life."
"It sounds to me like the luck of Grail was on the side of
his High Priest," Kylin said with a chuckle, sipping now at
the wine that was far better than he'd expected it to be.

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER
33
"Even a man who has no intentions of using his equipment
prefers having it left intact to allow him the option of chang-
ing his mind."
"Some of us found the thing as amusing as you do now/'
the Duke said, staring soberly at his son. "Nimram's timing
was a stroke of luck for his manhood, and became even more
than that. The delegation turned then to jthe Crown Prince,
but Prince Lillint was too ill over his father's impending
death to listen to them or even to see them, and then the
Prince was abruptly done with listening or seeing of any sort.
The middle-aged but very delicate Crown Prince went out for
a bit of fresh air in his carriage, his Guard alert all around
him, and there was a terrible accident. Somehow a starving
treecat dropped into his open carriage from the overhead
branches of the forest trail, and by the time his Guard reached
him the Crown Prince wasn't screaming any longer."
"I remember hearing about that," Kylin said with more
introspection, holding his cup now with both hands. "1 was
here in the east then, outlaw-hunting with some friends of
mine who are King's Fighters from this district, and the first
word brought by the crier-gallopers was that Prince Lillint
was dead before his father. We all expected Prince Traffis to
be confirmed as heir in his place, and then we heard that
Prince Imfar had returned out of the blue from wherever he'd
been, and as elder to Traffis had been named heir in his
place. I heard later it was a near thing: three more days and
Traffis would have been confirmed Crown Prince and Imfar,
elder or not, would have been out of luck."
"Yes, luck," Duke Trame mused, this time relishing the
word. "As luck would have it Imfar did return in time, and
only a few days after Traffis had sent the delegation packing,
their ears still ringing with Traffis' denunciation of their
'sacrilegious' intentions. The new Holy Father was not to be
commented about or criticized by any group of men as 'lust-
fully vulgar' as the members of the delegation and the rest of
the nobility they represented, and Traffis was outraged that
they'd dared to approach him with such a shameful and
appalling demand."
"Evon's Steel protect us," Kylin sighed, shaking his head.
"King Klieant, you've always said, gave courtesy and re-
spect to Grail for the sake of the people of his kingdom, but it

34
Sharon Green
doesn't sound as though Traffis followed his father's inclination
to honor Evon above ail other gods. He can't be much of a fighter
if his steel hasn't been dedicated to Evon, Blesser of Blades."
"He isn't much of a fighter, and never was," the Duke
agreed, swallowing a grimace along with his wine. "He was
livid when Imfar appeared, of course, but there was nothing
he could do to get rid of him again. Imfar had spent the years
he'd been gone making a name for himself as a fighter,
and he'd been only a couple of weeks over the border from
Zeran when he heard of Lillint's death. He'd stayed away that
long because he'd never been able to consider Lillint as King
without getting sick to his stomach, but Lillint was the elder
of them and Imfar refused to dishonor his father by disputing
Lillint's claim. When he showed up the Council was delighted,
and confirmed him so fast it made people's heads spin."
"Meaning they didn't like Traffis any more than anyone
else," Kylin said, this time nodding. "I've heard he's the
sort who's never happy unless he's making sacrifices of one
kind or another—or making other people's lives miserable.
Since he wasn't likely to become King no one cared—until
Lillint died. There were a lot of people sweating then, I can
tell you."
"For more reasons than you know," Duke Trame said,
rising to get the wine pitcher and bring it back with him.
"After Imfar was declared heir the delegation concerned
about Nimram returned to the capital city, but they still didn't
get the answer they were looking for. Imfar heard them out
courteously, then explained his position. As a fighting man
and follower of Evon, he had never gotten involved with
Grail beyond knowing what his father's feelings about the
religion were. His father had honored Grail for the sake of
those people in the kingdom who worshiped the god, and
other than that left the Servants entirely alone. Klieant IV had
been acknowledged a great king even by his enemies, and
when Imfar became Klieant V, he intended trying to emulate
his father in every way possible. If circumstances changed, or
the delegation could find proof that the situation was harmful
to the kingdom he would reconsider his decision, but until
then Imfar had to refuse to do as the delegation asked."
"That sounds like the reasonable man everyone now knows
the King to be," Kylin said, watching his father closely.

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER
35
"Why do I get the feeling you would have been happier with
an unreasonable decision?"
"There are some things a man can't afford to be reasonable
about," the Duke said, gesturing vaguely with his wine cup.
"Imfar is making a good king, but how are we supposed to
find hard evidence to support observations, deductions and
suspicions? It took a lot of months before the old king died,
and by the time of the coronation Rilfe and I had noticed
enough oddities to come to the same conclusions.
"To begin with, Nimram wasn't the old High Priest's
choice as a successor. Rilfe and I had both made discreet
inquiries, and our individual efforts had turned up nothing
more about that than the fact that three of those who would
have had strong Purist backing for High Priest had met with
serious—and fatal—accidents just before the old High Priest
took a turn for the worse. Because of that the Purists were
divided and unsure, which let Nimram's followers walk in
and take over. His people were the younger priests, the ones
who went out preaching and teaching, ones who hadn't yet
decided to give up their manhood in order to join the Purists
and gain advancement. Until then the Purists had been the
hierarchy of the religion, but the unexpected coup knocked
them out of power.
"After learning that, Rilfe and I had again done the same
thing—which was investigating what the Servants of Grail
had been teaching over the past years. What they taught when
I was a boy—and for generations before that—was either
helpful or innocuous. They taught the offspring of nobility
their letters and sums, art and literature, history and science
and, with the permission of the nobility, schooled promising
peasants in simple reading and counting. They also preached
their religion to the peasants, of course, and to the ladies of
noble houses who could not join their husbands and fathers in
paying homage to Evon. Some of the Servants were also
physicians, and these usually established themselves in villages.
"It took a lot of effort and roundabout inquiry, but I, and
Rilfe on his own, discovered that the teaching and preaching
had changed over recent years. The people were being told
that because of the influence of Evon on their lords, they
were being forced into lives of sin that would never let them
go Home after their final sendoffs. New rules of conduct have

36
Sharon Green
been brought up and insisted on, and after years of being
lectured and preached at, the people are beginning to believe
in them. They've also been told, over the last five years or
so, that no king who didn't bow solely to Grail could possibly
have his people's best interests at heart."
"Wait a minute," Kylin said with a frown, leaning for-
ward in his chair. "Over the last five years? But that means
they started their preaching three years before the old King
reached his deathbed. Lillint was Crown Prince then, and
wasn't he primarily a follower of Millis?"
"Millis the Overindulgent and Squeamish?" Duke Trame
asked with a snort of scorn. "Yes, Lillint found Millis an
excellent patron god, and visited his temple on a regular
basis. I've heard it said the temple priests spray perfume
instead of burning incense."
"But that doesn't make any sense," Kylin insisted, his
expression showing his annoyance. "Why would the Servants
preach what they did, when the only prince who followed
Grail was—"
"Traffis," the Duke finished for him, nodding slowly. "A
Traffis who never announced his feelings about Grail until
after his brother Lillint was dead. You see now how the
picture was drawn for Rilfe and myself."
"Fatal accidents happen, and Nimram becomes High Priest,"
Kylin said, settling back heavily. "The King ends up very
sick but not dead, just the way the old High Priest was, and
then an accident takes the Crown Prince. If Imfar hadn't
turned up without warning, Traffis would have been King.
I'm surprised Imfar didn't meet with any accidents."
"He almost did," the Duke said grimly, drawing a sharp
look from his son. "A horse going suddenly and unexpect-
edly wild under him, an arrow flying wrong on the Palace
Guards' practice field, one or two other incidents everyone
knows about, and Evon alone knows how many unmen-
tioned. If Imfar hadn't been as good as he was, he would
have been as dead as Lillint. And before you ask, no, he
wont believe any of it was done on purpose. Any fighting
man knows how likely accidents are, that's why we try being
prepared for them, and Imfar is a fighting man. End of story,
end of suspicions."
"And once he was crowned King, he was safe," Kylin

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER
37
said after swallowing at his wine. "He may not have pro-
duced any legitimate issue as yet, but the number of sons he
left scattered over this continent alone guarantees that Traffis
can never be considered his heir. The Council has been
known to recognize a bastard over a brother before this, just
to make sure younger brothers of kings don't get any ideas.
Isn't it too bad Nimram's plans didn't work out.'1
"Nimram's first plans didn't work but," Duke Trame
corrected, showing none of the pleased relief his son did.
"Traffis disappeared right after the coronation—only to show
up again with an army and a claim for the throne. It's too bad
you never met Traffis, or you'd know how unlikely it is that
he thought of the claim and the effort on his own. And that's
not all that's been happening."
Kylin nodded as he reached for the wine pitcher, knowing
his father was finally getting to the nub of things. He still
didn't know what part he was supposed to play in all that, but
he didn't doubt for a minute that he did have a part.
"Duke Rilfe came to the coronation out of duty, not
because of any desire to celebrate," the Duke of the west
said, his words heavy with commiseration. "He had just lost
his eldest son to a legitimate accident, but the incident had
started him thinking. His second son had become his heir, but
although the boy was well-liked and noble in spirit as well as
by birth, he was too trusting and not as skilled as he should
have been with a blade. With Rilfe's third and fourth sons
gone off to see the world and no word of them having come
back for years, it occurred to him to wonder what would
happen if his last male heir met with a fatality. We knew
nothing of the impending war then, you understand, but
Rilfe's investigations into Nimram's doings had made him
suspicious.
"We talked the problem over together, and decided that
what had served Nimram so well in the past would likely
serve him well again. Under the proper circumstances, having
his own people declared heir to one or more of the reigning
Dukes would, after those Dukes were put out of the way,
give Nimram control of a significant portion of the kingdom
through his pawn or pawns. We agreed to be on the lookout
for that, and also agreed on a plan of action if it turned out
we were anticipating rather than worrying needlessly. Four

38
Sharon Green
weeks ago, I received word that Rymar, Rilfe's son and heir,
had met with an 'accident.' "
"I don't think I'm following this," Kylin said with a small
headshake and a frown. "I can see that Nimram is behind
Traffis' warring even though he publicly made an appeal to
the 'misguided' to stop fighting and go back where they came
from, but what good would it do him to have Duke Rilfe's
heir killed? Unless he has one of the Duke's missing sons as
tightly as he has Traffis, how would he gain control of the
duchy?"
"He may or may not have one of Rilfe's sons," the Duke
answered with a shrug. "What Riife has, though, is three
daughters, one of whom is of more than marriageable age.
She's been living with an aunt for years now, and would have
been properly married off long ago if her aunt hadn't advised
Rilfe against it. The girl wasn't ready, the woman kept
insisting, but now she has to be ready. The only way Rilfe
can have a suitable heir is to marry the girl to the man of his
choice. Before she ends up in Nimram's clutches, and mar-
ried to someone of the High Priest's choosing."
"Something the High Priest would probably have no trou-
ble arranging," Kylin said in disgust. "Delicate little things
that just aren't ready for marriage usually spend all their time
praying and doing just what their priest tells them to do. This,
I take it, is why you were unhappy about my—multiple
activities before first snow. I'm the one you've chosen to
marry Duke Rilfe's daughter."
"The choice wasn't mine alone," his father said with a
smile, traces of pride coming through again. "Rilfe saw you
fight in the masked competition last year at the King's birth-
day celebration, and was very impressed when I told him you
were my son. That was when the decision was made as to
which of my sons would marry his daughter, and I can't say I
blame him. I've been given reason to be very proud of all of
your brothers, but you, more than any of them, remind me of
me when I was young. Are you willing to accept the choosing?"
"After a buildup like that, how can I refuse?" the young
Fighter asked with a laugh, causing his father to join him,
then he shook his head. "All joking aside, I find myself very
flattered, Father. I won't say I'll try to be worthy of your
confidence and Duke Rilfe's, but only because I think you

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER
39
know I will. I hadn't been thinking in terms of settling down,
but if I'm willing to give my life for the kingdom, how can I
refuse to give the service of body parts? I know it doesn't
matter, but what does the girl look like?"
"That I can tell you from personal observation," the Duke
said, grinning as he chuckled to himself. "I met the young
lady about five years ago, having come vjsiting myself when
she paid a visit home. She was about sixteen then, taller than
you would expect and pretty, with bright gray eyes. She
hardly said a word during the visit, almost as though she were
afraid of saying the wrong thing, so you don't have to worry
about endless chatter. I can also remember how uncomfort-
able she seemed in her gowns, as though she was used to
wearing less finery in her aunt's house, which was also a
good sign. She won't be forever pestering you for additions
to her wardrobe."
"Quiet, shy, and hardly a spectacular beauty," Kylin said
with a sigh, twirling his wine thoughtfully in its cup. "I was
hoping for a different sort of woman, but I suppose that's
why night houses are in business. If she cries on our wedding
night, remembering the houses should keep me from crying
with her."
"As long as you're discreet," his father said with a laugh,
pleased with how his son had so far taken the plans. "A man
owes his wife consideration if nothing else, and rubbing her nose
in his affairs is stupid as well as boorish. But there's one other
thing you have to know before you take the road to Gensea."
Kylin raised his brows in confusion, wondering why his
father was suddenly looking both uncomfortable and covertly
amused. If it was true that he was that much like his father,
the sight of amusement worried him more than the sight of
sobriety would.
"Kylin, you have to understand it's a virtual certainty that
Rilfe and I, at the very least, are being watched," the Duke
said, rubbing at his face with two of his fingers. "That's one
of the reasons I arranged to meet you here, where it isn't
likely I'll be known, and at a time when no one knows I've
slipped away. Being seen talking with my son woufd hardly
appear suspicious to a watcher, but Kylin—most people don't
know you as my son. I'm told you use the Band name of
Kylin Difres when you fight, for our home city of Difresent,

40
Sharon Green
and when you fight at a celebration where you might be
recognized, you fight masked."
"Being a Duke's son among King's Fighters can be more
than awkward, Father," the young man said quietly, making
no more than a statement, nothing of an excuse. "I had no
reason to believe I'd ever be more than an unimportant fourth
son, and 1 wasn't about to trade the chance of true, close
friendships for the privilege of being called 'my lord.' "
44As I said, you continually remind me of me," the older
man remarked with something of a smile. "The point I was
trying to make was a point, not a criticism. People know 1
have a son Kylin and also what he looks like, but they don't
know that he and Kylin Difres are one and the same person.
Duke Rilfe and I think it would be best if they didn't find it
out until after the wedding."
"I'm beginning to think this wine is more potent than I
was expecting," the Fighter said, glancing in confusion at the
cup he held. "What's the difference between before and
after, and why would anyone care?"
"You don't think Nimram would care if he learned that
Rilfe's girl was about to be married to a well known King's
Fighter?" Duke Trame asked with a snort. "Are you under
the impression he's forgotten what happened when he tried
his tricks against your brothers? Setting up an accident against
watchfulness and skill doesn't work well, and he won't be
eager to face the necessity again. If he thinks you're likely to
be troublesome to him, I doubt if he'll hesitate over killing
the girl, and then waiting until her next younger sister reaches
marrying age."
"That spawn of diseased privates!" the Fighter fumed, his
light eyes blazing even in the dim firelight. "The craven are
always eager to take on the helpless! But Father, won't he do
that anyway as soon as he learns the girl is about to be
married to someone who isn't his? He can't afford to let that
happen."
"He can afford to let it happen if he believes he can
change the situation any time he cares to," his father countered
with satisfied secretiveness, that covert amusement sneaking
back again. "If he comes to the conclusion that the lady's
new husband will be easy prey as soon as he has an accept-
able substitute available, the High Priest will allow the mar-

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER
41
riage to take place. And don't forget—his favorite way of
handling that sort of situation is the way he did it with the
King. First he let everyone think Lillint was heir, then he
arranged for the King to faH ill—which we're convinced he
did do—and then he did away with Lillint, leaving his pawn
in a position to take over when the King died. He'll do the
same in Gensea, with someone all ready to marry your widow
once Rilfe is too ill to object—but only if he believes it won't
be hard to do."
"So my best bet will be to pretend I don't know one end of
a sword from the other," Kylin pounced, suddenly seeing the
point. "Being quiet and overly mannerly also ought to help,
in fact I'm sure it will. That's what you were trying to tell
me, isn't it, Father?"
"Not exactly," the Duke murmured, once again aware of
the width of his son's shoulders, the Fighter's stride he used
when he walked, the easy challenge usually to be seen in his
eyes. "Your simply pretending to be unskilled with a sword
isn't likely to work, I'm afraid. Nimram isn't stupid, so we
have to assume his agents aren't either. How quickly would
you believe that a man of your proportions wasn't blade-
skilled simply because he claimed not to be?"
"About as quickly as that unattached fighter down in the
court believed it," Kylin said sourly, leaning back in his
chair again. "I went out with the intention of simply warming
up, but I had barely worked up a sweat before he challenged
me. At first I tried hinting I wasn't very good and so pre-
ferred passing on the challenge, but that made him even more
eager to face me. It was something about those girls, I think,
and his wanting to look like a true Blade. Too bad for him it
didn't work out that way. So what do we do, sneak me in
robed and cowled, or do I have to be delivered in a box?"
"What you have to do is arrive openly, meet everyone,
and still arouse no suspicion," his father said, and this time
there was no doubt whatsoever about the amusement he felt.
4There is a way of accomplishing that, which will, at the
same time, explain why you've spent more time away from
home over the past years than any of your brothers. Without
your saying a word, people will know it was because I
couldn't bear the sight of you."
"This time I don't think I want to know what you're

42
Sharon Green
talking about," Kylin said, very suddenly wary and cau-
tiously unmoving in his chair. "You could be saying you
intend passing me off as a worthless drifter, but somehow I
have the feeling that isn't it."
"It always pleases a father to see signs of intelligence in
his son," the Duke replied, completely unable to keep him-
self from chuckling. "Kylin, consider how manly and able
your brothers are, and how painful it would be for a man like
myself to accept the fact that I had sired a son who wasn't. I
would certainly do everything in my power to keep him out
of my sight and away from the people whose opinions I
valued, just as any man with sense would. Now consider as
well what 1 would do if 1 had once been very close to
someone but now considered him a blood enemy, and he
attempted to hold me to a word given while we were still
friends. If I had pledged one of my sons in marriage to his
eldest daughter, and now he demanded I uphold that pledge
because he has no other recourse, which of my sons do you
think I'd send? Considering my well-known vindictiveness,
which one would it be?"
Kylin Difres, high ranking King's Fighter and fourth son of
Trame, Duke of Arthil, sat in his chair with his eyes closed,
one hand attempting to shield those eyes from a very painful
but inescapable sight. Objectively he knew the joke would be
riotously funny, but somehow he couldn't get into the objec-
tive spirit of the thing.
"It seems safe to assume Duke Rilfe already knows what
will be riding into his courtyard to claim his daughter," Kylin
said after a moment, well beyond sighing. "1 hadn't known
you two were pretending to feud."
"There are more than enough who do know," his father
answered, now with only faintly amused compassion in his
voice. "Everything fell into place very neatly at the corona-
tion, so we began the feud then. He'll be furiously outraged
when you show up, but he's already registered the betrothal
at the King's court, so he'll have no choice but to allow the
wedding to proceed as scheduled. After the marriage is con-
summated you'll be publicly declared Rilfe's heir, and then
you'll be free to show your true colors. The girl will be safe
then—after all, even if she died you would still be left as
heir—and any attempts should be against you. It may well

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER
43
prove more dangerous than fighting two wars at once, so
you'll need your wits about you at all times."
"From then on until Nimram falls," Kylin said with a
grimace, dropping his hand so that he might look at his father
again. "You've spoken of the investigations you and Duke
Rilfe have carried out, but you haven't said anything about
what you're doing to counter the influence of the Servants
among the people. You certainly can't jusfleave them where
they are and expect to be able to defeat their High Priest."
"Would you like to tell me how we're supposed to do
anything at all to priests of Grail without having the peasantry
rise up against us?" the Duke demanded, all amusement and
compassion gone, his eyes blazing in a familiar way. "No
one who isn't blade-skilled follows Evon, and even his priests
swing steel; how quickly do you think those followers of
Evon would give up ones of their own to followers of Grail?
It works exactly the same in reverse, Kylin, and we can't see
striking down half a village or more in order to take one
priest—who isn't irreplaceable. We want to save our people
from Nimram, not feed him their blood."
"Then we need to spend some thought on how to discredit
him and his teachings in the villages," Kylin said, putting his
cup aside before rising to his feet. "From what you've told
me, I'd be surprised if His Holiness wasn't planning a general
uprising—scheduled for the proper time, of course."
"That goes without saying," his father agreed as he, too,
rose to his feet. "It happens to be one of the major reasons
for this charade we're about to enter into. Acting openly
against Nimram now will likely force his hand, and we can't
afford to do that. If the people rise up we may be abie to put
them down again, but if so, what will we have left? And what
will we have to feed our armies while they fight Traffis and
the Zeranese?"
4i can feel the net closing from all around, but simply
standing there with swords sheathed won't get us anything
but taken," Kylin said with an annoyed headshake. "There
has to be a way out of the trap."
"You can turn your attention to the problem once you've
been declared Rilfe's heir," his father said, clapping him
briskly on the shoulder. "Right now we'll be leaving this inn,
me to return to the war awaiting me, you to find your new

44
Sharon Green
escort which is encamped off the highway south of here.
They'll be watching for you, and will help you change into
your new personality. Two of the three are fighters, and will
therefore pretend to be your bodyguard; the third is Jestrion,
who will supposedly be your body servant, but who will
actually be a role model for your new character."
"Jestrion!" Kylin said with a groan, clearly remembering
the son of an old house servant who had begged his lord not
to put said son out into the world alone; Jestrion was usually
given enough tasks to occupy him out of sight any time the
Duke had guests, but everyone who lived in or had grown up
in the Duke's castle knew him well enough. . . .
"Try to bear in mind how short a time you'll need to keep
up the pretense," his father urged, trying, himself, to keep
down amusement. "The wedding ceremony will be held as
soon after your arrival as possible, and that should give you
just enough time to have some fun. And think of the surprise
your bride will have on your wedding night. And after you've
been declared heir, you'll know which of Rilfe's advisors and
commanders can be trusted and which can't. And also ..."
His father continued on with the list of benefits his mas-
querade would bring to him, but Kylin allowed himself to be
conducted to his tunic and swordbelt and then to the door
without finding the enthusiasm his father was trying to gener-
ate. He knew well enough that he had to go through with it,
but he knew something else as well: he would not be spend-
ing that night with his new "escort." As soon as darkness
fell he would return to the inn, to collect the winnings
promised him by the adoring inn girls for his victory. Without
doubt he'd need at least that to see him through the next
weeks; as things were about to stand, it wasn't likely he'd
find another opportunity.

Chapter 3
It was getting on toward dusk when we came in sight of the
inn, and that, predictably, sef Timper off. He'd been doing
his usual silent groaning during that day's ride, having learned
how much good complaining aloud to me did him, but getting
a look at that inn was more than he could stand.
"Please, my lady, I beg you to let us stop there for the
night!" he jumped in at once, trying not to give me a chance
to say we were going on as usual until full dark. "There's no
doubt that we'll reach the city tomorrow, and your father's
castle lies just beyond it. I would be very grateful if I were to
arrive there with one adequate night's sleep behind me."
"I can see now why it took you almost six weeks to come
north," I remarked, tugging at my collar a little against the
warmth of the air. Only three visits home over the last ten
years had left me unused to the climate of the south, and
traveling from the north as fast as we had, left my blood
remembering the tail end of cold. 1 should have preferred
continuing on and camping out again, but I discovered I was
as tired of trail fare as Timper was of sleeping on the ground.
"With the return trip taking barely four, we've certainly
earned the right to one night of comfort," the courier per-
sisted, trying to sound more firm than coaxing. "And think
of all the gold we've saved, having come without escort and
having stopped at almost no other inns. And this close to your
father's city, the King's Fighters leave a good deal of the
patrolling to the City Guard, who might not be abroad at this
late an hour. Surely the blessing of safe, uneventful sleep is
worth ..."
"All right, all right, you've convinced me," I interrupted
45

46
Sharon Green
the flow with an inner sigh, knowing I would probably get no
sleep that night no matter where I was, and therefore might
appreciate being in a place with drinkables. The next day I
would be home, and I'd taken to wondering just exactly how
my father would feel about what I'd made of my life until
then. I knew him as a man filled with a lot of love and
kindness, but he was also a man who knew who he was and
what he wanted. My aunt Illi had always said I was just like
him, but not at times when she was trying to compliment me.
"My lady has this unworthy courier's undying gratitude,"
Timper burbled, and 1 would have been a good deal happier if
it had been sarcasm rather than sincerity in his voice. "Please
follow me, and I'll have us settled in with all the speed due
your station."
"No station or no stop," I told him bluntly as he gathered
his reins, ready to try urging his poor gelding on to match the
pace of my stallion again. "Either we stay at that inn as no
more than two anonymous travelers, or we don't stay at that
inn. I'd like my arrival at home to be a surprise to everyone."
"Oh, very well," he surrendered with a sigh, annoyed
with me but not about to say so. "Two anonymous travelers
it shall be. I, however, mean to have the best of their
accommodations, and insist that you have the same. Your
father would be furious with me if I were to allow anything
else."
"As long as we discuss anything but my father and my
station once we're in there, you've got a deal," 1 agreed,
hoping he had enough sense to remember the deal when we
were inside. Casual questioning over the past few weeks had
shown me he knew nothing about the "accident" my brother
had had, except that he thought it really had been an accident.
It was enough that I knew better; if my father wanted Timper
to know, he could tell him himself.
The inn had a wide road leading to it from the highway,
and as soon as we reached the front door a boy appeared from
around the side of the building to take our horses. Timper
didn't quite grumble aloud when he gave the boy a handful of
coppers, but I could see he still wasn't happy about parting
with what he obviously considered tribute. Tipping for above-
routine service was a concept he found entirely alien, so I'd
had to tell him that the coppers were for the danger the stable

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER
47
boys faced in handling my stallion. Since we'd almost lost
the first stable boy he knew the danger was real enough, and
that had kept him almost quiet the next couple of times.
This latest stable boy seemed to know the proper way of
soothing a war horse while at the same time staying out of his
reach, but I still watched them gone around the corner before
turning to the house—only to find that Timper had already
disappeared inside. I grinned as I realized he wasn't taking
any chances that I'd change my mind, and followed along
after wishing I could pretend I had. Doing something like that
with a straight face is a lot of fun, but not with someone like
my father's courier. The man hadn't the slightest trace of a
sense of humor, and I really hate seeing a grown man cry.
The front door of the inn gave access to a wide entrance
hall of rough wood with a counter toward its back, an open
staircase to the left, and a double doorway leading to dining
tables to the right. Lamplight showed the place to be a little
above average as far as neat and clean was concerned, which
meant Timper stood in front of the counter trying not to touch
anything. He was talking to a youngish man who stood
behind the counter in a stained apron, and was trying to
ignore the stares and snickers of two others in tan leather who
lounged in front of the counter and leaned on it.
"... rooms must be clean and private and have workable
locks," the courier was saying, his prissy manner giving the
three men a really good time. "I'm traveling with a lady, and
her comfort must be considered above all else. We will also
take a meal in your dining room, and I expect it to be well
above standard guest fare. Do you have all that?"
"Oh, yes, sir, I certainly do," the one behind the counter
said very seriously, causing the loungers on the outside to
snicker even harder. "This lady you're traveling with—is she
yours, or will you be needing the services of one of our girls?
I need to know in order to make the arrangements."
"If the lady were mine, why would I have taken two
rooms?" Timper demanded, and even from where I stood I
could tell he was blushing furiously—which was, after all,
the reason he'd been asked the question. "As far as the
services of your—girls—go, you needn't worry about that.
As 1 am the escort and protector of the lady, I must be
available at all times."

48
Sharon Green
"And one of the girls here would sure make you unavail-
able," one of the two loungers said, causing the other to
laugh and the one in the apron to smirk. "That is, if you
knew what to do with her. Somehow I get the feeling you're
as good with girls as you are at protecting. Maybe we ought
to find out just how good that is."
The second of the two laughed again, this time with antici-
pation, both of them caressing sword hilts with open palms.
They'd seen that Timper was unarmed and were in the mood
for a little fun, and the set of his shoulders said the young
courier had realized ignoring the two would do no good at all.
His continuing silence said he also didn't know what to do in
place of ignoring them, but that wasn't a hard question to
answer.
"Since you asked, I'll tell you how good a protector he
is," I said, causing the two with swords to turn their heads,
and the aproned one to look up. "I've found him excellent as
a protector, and we've come a good long way. If anyone
should know, I should."
The one behind the counter grinned and glanced at his
friends, expecting them to be sharing his amusement, but
apparently they'd traveled a little more widely than he had.
The two toughs were staring at my black leathers and silver
medallion, and their faces had turned sober and the least bit
pale. They watched carefully as I moved closer, then the one
who had done the talking raised his hand to point.
"The Silver Gleaming Company," he said, drawing a nod
from his friend, his voice softer than it had been. "I'll say
they've come a long way."
"What's wrong with you two?" the one in the apron
demanded, unhappy about being done out of his fun. "Why
would we care what a rag in man's clothes has to say?"
"Shut your mouth, fool!" the first bravo hissed while the
second winced, both of them suddenly nervous. "Don't you
know a Blade of a Sword Company when you see one? Don't
you know what it takes to be a Blade of a Sword Company?"
"Not as much as it takes to be a member of a Fist," the
second one said, staring hard at my medallion as he swal-
lowed. "Gist and me joined a Company green, so we know
what it's all about. Female Blades gotta be better'n the males,

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER
49
or they can't handle it. You talk loud to her, you do it
alone."
The one behind the counter had gone wide-eyed and even
pastier than his friends, and seeing my thumbs in my swordbelt
really seemed to bother him. As far as being loud goes he no
longer seemed to have the inclination, but there was still
something left to say.
"I think you gentlemen owe my friend an apology for
bothering him," I observed, keeping the suggestion calm and
quiet. "If he wasn't more easygoing than I am, he'd be the
one needing to apologize to you—or what was left of you."
The three tough types couldn't get the words out fast
enough to Timper, all of it running together in a gabble, and
then they were interrupted by the arrival of an older, heavier
man in an apron. He waddled up and sternly shooed away the
two loafers and their friend, then turned a warm smile on
Timper. The courier repeated his requirements in a very
subdued way, paid over the gold he was courteously asked
for, then led the way to the right into the dining room where
the innkeeper had directed us. Our meal would be served as
quickly as possible, we'd been assured, and until then we
were invited to make ourselves comfortably at home.
A good decade of tables were already filled with diners and
drinkers, but we had no trouble finding one in a corner that
afforded some small amount of privacy. Timper stood until
I'd taken the chair near the wall, his face oddly expression-
less; once he sat, however, the look in his eyes made up for
what was missing elsewhere.
"I must ask you to forgive me," he said in a low, intense
voice. "I'm forced to admit I'd begun doubting your nobility,
my lady, but now I can see how wrong 1 was. You are a true
daughter to your noble father, and I shall never forget what
you did for me."
"What I'm going to do is get violent if you call me that
again," I answered just as softly, trying not to let more than a
corner of my annoyance show through. "Or if you mention
my father again. Can't you find anything else to talk about?"
"I'm no longer fooled by the brusqueness of your man-
ner," he said with a superior sniff, an unaccustomed smile
curving his lips. "It was you those ruffians feared, and yet it
was to me you made them offer apologies, and me you made

50
Sharon Green
larger than life in their eyes. I would not have expected such
generosity from one of your tender years, and the attitude
does you great credit. You may be certain the effort will be
returned to you a hundredfold."
1 gave my attention to the serving girl who was approach-
ing, and not only because I wanted a drink. Timper had been
the "older and wiser head"'from the day we'd left Fyerlin
and on through the rest of the trip, and I had long since run
out of patience with the attitude. A tenth of a decade more of
life hadn't taught him anything worth knowing, but he wasn't
the sort to understand or believe that. Treating him at times
like a green recruit had been the only way of fighting back,
especially since he had the tendency to jump when 1 barked.
Timper ordered a cup of very sweet wine and tried to get
me to take the same, but I simply shook my head and told
the girl to bring the house brew and keep it coming. I was in the
mood for something raw rather than refined, and for once the
courier didn't argue very hard. He waited the five minutes
until our drinks were in front of us and the girl was gone on
her way, and then he looked at me with more curiosity than
he'd shown at any time during the trip.
"The black leathers, I take it, were what told those two of
your—ah—calling," he said, holding his cup with the finger-
tips of both hands. "It was also obviously your medallion
that gave them your Company name, but I fail to understand
how they knew you to be a member of a Fist."
"They saw the sapphire," I explained, tasting my brew
and getting a pleasant surprise. The inn's product wasn't bad
at all, cold and crisp and well-balanced, considerably better
than what northern inns usually offered. "When you become
a member of a Fist, you have the Fist's stone added to your
medallion. That tells everyone you are part of a Fist, and also
which one you belong to. I would say those two didn't stay
around long enough to learn one from the other."
"I—have also been wondering about the names of the
Companies," he said with a nod, obviously having decided to
get all his questions answered at once. "I have very little
knowledge about Sword Companies, but shouldn't their names
be a bit more—boastful or complimentary? If anything, they
sound insulting."
"They're supposed to be insulting—to whoever the Com-

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER
51
pany fights against," I said, stretching out long in my chair
to hide the amusement I felt at his ignorance. "My Company
was the Silver Gleaming—meaning we were so much better
than anyone we fought that all they would end with was
silver-gleaming steel, not a single streak of red marring it.
The Crimson Rush and the Opened Throats mean the same,
what their Blades will do to whoever they're pitted against.
It's boastful enough, if you look at it properly."
"Opposites, in a manner of speaking," he said with an-
other nod, sipping at his wine. "Just as my impression was of
the name those others called you. Soft and Gentle, indeed."
His amusement was more of a smirk than a chuckle, the
outsider being part of insider secrets, but the comment brought
me memory of things I hadn't allowed myself to think about
until then. We'd ridden hard those past weeks, supposedly to
get where we were going sooner, but riding quickly toward
some place means you're riding just as quickly away from
somewhere else.
I didn't need to look down at the silver medallion I wore to
know it was there, just as I didn't need to stop to think about
it to know it shouldn't have been. I'd resigned from the Silver
Gleaming before leaving Fyerlin, which meant the medallion
picturing a shining sword ought to be packed away among the
things in my saddle bags. That 1 still wore it was not simply a
matter of habit, or precisely the fact that I wanted my father
to see everything I'd been a part of. One thing I'd been a part
of, the most important thing, was now only technically over;
once I took off that medallion, though, it would be over for
ever and ever.
I stared down into the tawny depths filling my goblet,
thinking about the name Timper had mentioned. Rull had
been the first to call me Soft and Gentle, when I'd formally
met him and the others of the Fist, almost five years earlier.
I'd just returned from a visit home, the last I'd made, as a
matter of fact, and hadn't had the faintest idea that I was
under consideration for healing a broken Fist. At one time or
another I'd met and spoken with all four of them, but only in
passing conversation or after a fight, just talk that Blades of
the same Company engage in. A couple of them had teased
me and the others had given me pointers, and although 1 gave
as good as I got with the teasing, 1 listened carefully to the

52
Sharon Green
pointers and remembered them for next time. When a Blade
of a Fist makes a suggestion on how to improve your sword
technique, you ignore it only if you're interested in a very
short career with your Company.
And I hadn't been interested in a short career.
The second swallow of brew went down my throat as
smoothly as the first, but I discovered then that I was losing
the desire to drown painful memories and anticipations. Get-
ting sloshed doesn't solve your problems; all it does is give
you the added chore of having to face those problems while
struggling with a hangover. I could just see myself staggering
into my father's castle, trying to get everyone to keep their
voices down, trying to keep my ears from falling off, getting
ready to announce that 1 was there to accept being named my
father's heir. . . .
Timper asked if I would share what I found so amusing,
possibly thinking I was laughing at him, so I told him about
one of the funnier incidents that had happened some years
ago to another Company. He smiled politely at the end of the
story, showing again the sort of sense of humor he had, then
cleared his throat before leaning forward a little.
"So that, you say, is the reason why most male Blades
hesitate over joining a predominantly female Fist," he re-
marked in a casual way, trying to be worldly but at the same
time keeping his voice low to hide embarrassment. "I do
suppose one man with four females would be rather—fatigued.
Just as fatigued, perhaps, as one female with four males?
With just as much danger of an undesirable—occurrence?"
He wasn't quite meeting my eyes as he said that, and
although he was tiptoeing around the barn, it was fairly clear
he was asking a couple of very pointed questions. Under
other circumstances I might not have answered them, but if I
were going to be my father's heir I was going to have to get
used to questions like that—without getting angry over mis-
conceptions and haif-truths.
"Timper, what went on with that Fist was the exception
rather than the rule," 1 said, trying to keep the words gentle.
"What made their problem so funny was the fact that most
mixed Fists have more sense than to get that deeply involved
in just that way. The female Blades all came from the eastern
mountains, where they were taught to use a sword as soon as

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER
53
they could walk, but where they learned nothing at all about
men. The male Blade was the sort who didn't belong in a
Fist, but who joined theirs because he also didn't understand
that a Fist's first purpose is fighting, not blanket-warming.
He also didn't stop to ask any questions, and the four girls
had kept too much to themselves after they came north to
have gotten the right answers before it was too late."
I'd thought I was being clear and'concise in my explana-
tion, but the confusion showing on Timper's face said I was
taking too much knowledge on his part for granted—especially
concerning male-female relationships. I wasn't used to know-
ing more about that sort of thing than the men around me—
most especially not with men who were also older—and
for the first time in a number of years I began feeling—
uncomfortable.
"Maybe it would be easiest if I told you about my own
experience," I said, sitting up straighter in my chair after
clearing my throat. "Rull and Foist and Jak and Ham got to
know me one at a time, and then they came together to offer
me a place in their broken Fist. Their first consideration was
my ability as a Blade and how well I took helpful advice, and
their second was how we all got along together, how well our
personalities blended. They told me that when they first
began looking they weren't even considering female Blades,
but meeting me had made them change their minds."
Very briefly an expression flickered across Timper's face,
the sort of dirty-laugh skepticism most outsiders showed when
they were told something like that, and just as briefly the
surge of anger I felt got the better of me.
"It happens to be true!" I snapped, nearly to the growling
point, and then I had control of it again. "When a Fist fights,
their lives depend on how good each of their Blades are;
choosing a fifth that will do nothing more than save them
night house fees would make them too stupid to survive very
long. I joined the Fist on the usual conditional basis until
we'd been through the first battle together, and then we all
declared ourselves well-enough pleased to make the arrange-
ment permanent. It wasn't until then that they made sure I'd
had my Blue juice."
"Blue juice?" the courier echoed, trying very hard to keep

54
Sharon Green
his skepticism to himself. "What in Home's name might that
be?"
"It's what those four from the eastern mountains hadn't
had," I said, hoping the general comment would do it, but no
such luck. I could see he still didn't understand, so I gestured
vaguely with one hand. "It's what all female Blades and a
large number of other northern women make use of, a blend-
ing of Zil fruit and shore berries, which together make a
bluish mash. If a female strains it and drinks the juice, she's
safe from—accidents—until she drinks it a second time. It's
so old a tradition in the north that most northern marriage
ceremonies have provision for the second drinking, so that
the newly married couple will be able to have children. ..."
"What?" Timper exclaimed, so loud and outraged that
most of the other people in the room turned to stare at him.
He noticed their looks and lowered his voice again, but his
outrage was still firmiy in place even though he fought to
keep it down.
"I hope you will excuse my outburst, but I find myself
rather shocked," he said, as though shocking him wasn't
very easily done. "I had no idea those of the north were quite
that depraved— Well, it makes no never mind. We are
returned home now to the south, praise be to all we hold
holy, and need no longer concern ourselves with the doings
of the lost. Ladies of the south would never dream of indulg-
ing in such scandalous behavior, and you, of course, are at
heart a lady of the south. You need only be reminded of the
thing—which I'm sure your father will do for you—and we
will consider the matter merely as an aspect of a blessing.
With no possibility of an awkward—remembrance—of the
time, it will all be rather quickly and thoroughly forgotten."
He sat back as two inn girls and a serving man reached us,
the man carrying a heavily-laden board, the girls there to
serve us from it. Breads and cheeses were transferred to our
table with a large lump of butter, and then we were being
given the bowls of fish soup, thin tendrils of steam still rising
from them. This part of our meal hadn't needed much prepar-
ing, and I was glad it was there even if I did hate fish soup.
Timper was already stuffing his big mouth, ending our con-
versation in a much more pleasant way than I had been about
to end it, totally unaware of how close he had come to the

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER
55
real shock of his life. What I'd been so happily a part of was
depravedf and now that I was returned to the bosom of my
loved ones it would all be magnanimously forgotten? 1 was
much more ready to forget Timper, and planned on doing
exactly that at the first opportunity.
The rest of the meal was brought rather quickly, and was
tasty enough to keep us occupied with something other than
talk. Timper stuffed himself to near-bursting, then had to
excuse himself rather abruptly which, in my opinion, he more
than deserved. Once he was gone I finished my latest brew,
refused another, then left the house to visit the stable. My
stallion had been put in a reinforced stall a short distance
from the other horses, and once I'd seen that he had every-
thing he needed I took my saddlebags and went back to the
inn to find my room.
When the door was barred and I had gotten out of my
leathers, I lay down on my back on the narrow bed without
blowing out the lamp, holding my medallion up so that I
could stare at it a while. Timper would never know how close
I'd come to telling him about something very important to
me, so important that if he'd gone all stiff-necked and insult-
ing after hearing it I probably would have done something
very—unladylike—to him. I'd only been a matter of words
away. . . .
When I'd become a full member of the Fist I'd been very
young, not much experienced, and silently bracing myself for
whatever my Fistmates would come up with in the way of
extra-battle activities. I'd known from the start that I wanted
to be one of them no matter what I was called on to do, but
when all of them asked at once whether I'd had my Blue
juice, I felt the sort of nervousness I'd only felt before when
my unit of the Company stood as reserves in an important
fight. I'd wanted to do what was expected of me, but I'd been
afraid I wouldn't do it well enough and they'd be disappointed.
What had been expected of me at that point was going with
them to a night house, just the way any other new addition to
the Fist would have done. None of them quite laughed out
loud at my flustered surprise, but they'd all known what I
was thinking and had decided to show me I was just as much
a member of the Fist as they were. Member, not blanket-
warmer. It had been months before I'd gotten a taste of one

56
Sharon Green
of them, and by then it was a matter of mutual curiosity with
no "must" about it. I'd enjoyed Jak, and then Ham, and then
Foist, but we were all more likely to use the night house
workers than pair off together, and then I'd almost casually
tried Rull. . . .
The medallion swung in a very small arc as I stared at it,
the tiny sapphire glinting warmly, or at least warmly to my
eye. Rull was the one who had started our Fist, and continued
to be the best Blade in it. If any man was ever born to lead a
fighting unit and give pleasure to women without number he
was it, and he'd been wise enough to know better than to try
settling down. He didn't really mean more to me than the
others did—even though he was different—but the last couple
or three weeks before I'd left he'd become—distant but not
unfriendly, removed despite being where he usually was. I'd
thought I could jolly him out of whatever was bothering him,
but he'd stubbornly refused to respond—and then he'd said
what he had—
I dropped the medallion on the bedside table, got up to
blow out the lamp, then lay down again and covered myself
despite the continuing warmth of the air. If I hadn't had a
place to go and something to do I would have felt terribly lost
and more hurt than if my family had been wiped out. Most
people don't choose death, and if it comes to them you can
only mourn them, not blame them for leaving you all alone.
In that way death can be thought of as kinder than life, in that
it doesn't withdraw part of your soul to where it continues on,
only without you.
I closed my eyes then with the decision that I would sleep,
just as I had learned to sleep the night before battle and even
during hours of lull. I had things to do the next day, impor-
tant things, and with a severed soul or not, I would do them.
It was barely dawn when I pounded on Timper's door in
passing, then continued on downstairs without waiting to find
out if he was ready, or even if he'd heard the summons. If he
wasn't ready to go when I was I would leave him, without
regret and without excuse. That close to the city of Gensea
there wasn't much that might happen to him, and I was all
out of both patience and the protective urge as far as he was
concerned. If everyone in the duchy was like him, I would

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER
57
have turned off the highway alone and in a new direction
weeks earlier.
"Good morning, good morning," the overweight innkeeper
greeted me cheerfully from behind the counter, rubbing his
hands together. "The night passed peacefully for you, I
trust?"
"For the most part," I agreed, tossing him the key I'd
been given the night before. "I hadn't known your inn had
patrolling House Guards, and when 1 heard one outside my
door it woke me. You really should let people know about
things like that, or there could be an accident."
"But—but we have no patrolling House Guards!" the man
protested, glancing confusedly at the hilt my left hand rested
on as his face paled. "You mean to say someone attempted to
enter your room?"
"No, they simply stopped outside the door, paused for a
moment, then went away," I said with a frown I could feel,
remembering how abruptly I'd come awake and how quickly
my sword had been drawn and ready. If whoever had been
out there had touched the door I would have known it, but all
they'd done was walk away again in no particular hurry. That
was what had led me to believe it was a House Guard; any
other explanation made no sense at all.
"It must surely have been someone who searched for his
own room, and came to yours in error," the innkeeper said,
all at once vastly relieved. If no one had tried breaking in, it
couldn't possibly be something to worry about. "Allow me to
assure you, young miss, that ladies are quite safe in our
duchy no matter the difficulties they may face elsewhere.
Perhaps it was no more than the urgings of a dream."
"Perhaps it was," I allowed, knowing damned well it
hadn't been a mistake or a dream. Someone searching for a
room wouldn't have stopped like that unless he was drunk,
and the footsteps had been too even and sure for someone
who had been drinking heavily. And if he had been drunk
and confused, why hadn't he tried the door? No, it hadn't
been a mistake and it certainly hadn't been a dream, but that
meant I knew what it wasn't, not what it was. It could have
been something totally innocuous, but somehow I knew it
was wiser not to believe that.
"You'll be breaking your fast with us before leaving, of

58
Sharon Green
course," the innkeeper said, back to rubbing his hands and
beaming. "Three choices of grain cereal, eggs in four forms,
cold chicken and fish, hot pork and beef ..."
"I'm afraid I haven't the time," I said, cutting him off
before he listed everything edible in the house and outside it.
"A matter of duty, I'm sure you understand. When my
companion makes an appearance, please tell him I've ridden
on ahead and he needn't worry about catching up. He wasn't
feeling quite well last night, and if he finds he needs another
day of rest, he's to take it."
"Certainly, young miss, I'll do that very thing, but isn't he
your escort?" the man half-protested, calling the last of the
words after me as I already strode toward the door. "There
are King's Fighters about and the City Guard begins its
morning patrol earlier than this, but . . ."
"Then I'll clearly be perfectly safe," I called back over
my shoulder without slowing. "With all those able, mascu-
line Blades out there to protect me, how might I be anything
else?"
By that time I was out the door, which meant the innkeep-
er's comments were at an end whether or not he wanted them
to be. I shook my head as I rounded the house toward the
stable, no longer wondering as I once had why so many
female Blades thought of themselves as in competition with
male Blades rather than as partners to them. Most of the male
Blades I knew judged another Blade by skill, not by the
question of male or female, but those not part of our world
seldom did the same. It took a female Blade with clenched
teeth quite a while to understand that the only men who
would doubt her or belittle her were the ones who had no skill
and ability of their own, those who were therefore afraid of
her. Those who were skilled also had self-confidence, enough
to welcome any equal just the same, regardless of what their
gender happened to be. Or possibly female Blades were
welcomed a little faster and a bit more warmly; a man of high
skill and wide ability is still a man, and a woman who can
kfeep up with him is usually more interesting to him than
another man.
Those deeply philosophical thoughts kept me company
while I saddled and bridled my mount, but were already
replaced by the time I was back on the highway. The stable

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER
59
boy had been very relieved to have that part of his job done
for him, and had asked me how I'd managed to get so
dangerous a war horse to let me come near him. I'd explained
that he'd been a gift to me from my aunt when he was only a
colt, and I'd raised him and had even helped in his training.
That was why 1 was able to give his rein to someone else
without worrying too much about whether or not they would
manage to survive. As long as they \vere fairly good with
horses they would be tolerated by my big, red Bloodsheen,
since his rein had been given them by me. Let anyone try to
approach him on his own, though, and even a quick sword
might not be enough to save him.
Bloodsheen was feeling frisky that morning, which meant
the highway disappeared under his hooves at a very satisfying
pace. After a couple of hours we began encountering other
traffic on the road, some going in the same direction we
were, some in the opposite direction. Those heading for the
city were, for the most part, farmers on wagons, bringing in
special produce of one sort or another that wasn't meant for
the city's markets and shops. Daily suppliers had been in the
city since dawn, their deliveries made and wagons probably
empty by then, the farmers either lingering to make purchases
of their own, or already on the road back home. In Gensea
one bought and sold early and fresh or late and half-spoiled,
never both if they dealt in perishables. Northern climate was
at times more flexible, and more pleasant for those who
didn't mind the times when snow rose to the barrel of a tall
horse.
Coming from the city were more riders than wagons, among
them couriers and those individuals who preferred riding
alone. The majority of riders came in company, though, some
with friends, some with an escort, and these v/ere the ones
who let their curiosity bring their eyes to me. Not all of them
seemed to know what my leathers and medallion meant, in
fact none of them but the mercenary escorts, and one stern-
faced member of a party frowned and tried calling me over to
him. I smiled pleasantly and nodded as I passed the place
he'd stopped, then pretended I couldn't hear his shouted
demands to come back. It was only a suspicion on my part
that he wanted to argue the fact of my riding alone, but it was
too pleasant a morning to ruin if it turned out I was right.

60
Sharon Green
The city gates were already in sight by the time the Guard
patrol passed me on its way back, the dust of the road
covering their mail the way I was sure it hadn't on the way
out. I rated no more than a glance from their unit leader as
they went by, which pleased me quite a lot. There were too
many places where Blades were stopped and questioned as
soon as they appeared, their calling making them guilty even
if nothing had been done that they could be guilty of. Gensea
may have been my home, but I was returning to the duchy
with the eyes and attitudes of a stranger, needing to learn
about the place as though for the first time. I hadn't yet seen
enough of its people to be sure, but I was beginning to think I
might like all that sunshine and warmth.
When it didn't turn to airless heat on the streets of a city.
Getting through the gates had just been a matter of riding in,
the Guards posted there inspecting me a little more closely
but still making no attempt to stop me. My father's castle
stood on the hill on the far side of the city and 1 could have
reached it just as easily by riding around the outer walls, but
I'd decided on the slower straight-line route rather than the
faster curving one so that I could first have a closer look at
my father's people. In the course of time they would be my
people, much more than they were right then, and 1 wanted to
see them without their dinner manners.
I quickly discovered that most people went by way of the
widest street because it was the widest, which meant it took
that many more wagons and hand-carts and tray-peddlers and
walkers and urchins, which brought it virtually to a standstill.
Strangely enough most of those caught in the unhurried melee
didn't seem overly upset, as though they all had plenty of
time to get where they were going, and if they didn't arrive
for another day or two, well, no real harm done. Once we
were caught up in it with no way of turning back, I found that
Bloodsheen didn't feel quite the same.
Despite my hand on his neck and the murmured words that
usually calmed him, my mount was beginning to bare his
teeth and rear just a little, not enough to hurt anyone who
stayed back, but still a very clear warning of worse to come.
He didn't like the packed-in crowd, the noise that came at us
from all directions, the unfamiliar and well-mixed smells, the
heat unrelieved by the slightest breeze, and the crawling pace

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER
61
to which we'd been reduced. For my part it worried me that
the people around us didn't seem to understand what being
that close to a war horse meant, and acted as though Bloodsheen
was pulling a wagon. They were trying not to get in his way
to keep from being stepped on, but other than that were
totally unconcerned.
It took the laughing, screaming, yelling and pushing of half
a dozen dirty-faced little boys to show me I had no choice
about finding another route. We were moving forward very
slowly when they erupted from the crowds all around us,
purposely trying to startle everyone in sight and hearing
before shrilling laughter and racing away again. Bloodsheen
screamed and reared, determined to get at least one of the
little tormentors, and only the luck of Evon saved them from
it. The last thin body slipped past a hand-cart an instant
before a steel-shod hoof crashed down onto the wood, leaving
behind no more than splinters and kindling, letting everyone
know what would have happened if it had struck a small, soft
body instead. Startled and frightened, the people suddenly
began pulling back from us, and that was the moment I saw
the alleyway. I had no idea where it went, but I used the
opportunity to go for it without hesitation.
The stone of the buildings so close on either side of us was
only slightly better than the crowds as far as Bloodsheen was
concerned, but once we'd trotted through the alley to the next
street over he began to calm down a little. The street wasn't
what could be considered deserted, not after what we'd gotten
used to in Fyerlin, but it gave us enough room to breathe and
move without having to do it in someone else's lap. Before
coming into the city I'd thought about stopping at a tavern for
something to eat and wet my throat with, but by then all I
wanted was to find my way to the southern gate and out.
Which turned out to be not quite as easy as talking about it.
The street the alleyway gave onto was filled with shops and
stalls and the calm bustle of people, but rather than parallel-
ing the main thoroughfare it curved away to the right, then
began twisting this way and that. I stayed with it for a while
to see if it would decide to curve back again in the direction I
wanted, but when it began narrowing instead I had no choice
but to turn off. I guided Bloodsheen to the left, thinking to
check on the condition of the thoroughfare, but the street we

62
Sharon Green
took didn't lead to the thoroughfare. We came out on another
street instead, a street a bit wider than the one we'd left but
otherwise no different, and that was the real beginning of it.
I'd started getting us good and lost, but just hadn't yet
realized it.
I couldn't help noticing that all the street-name posts were in
place and in good repair, but knowing what street you're on
and passing helps only when you know where you're going.
There were walkers and people with hand-carts moving around
us, but when I stopped some of them to ask directions they all
seemed to have different ideas as to where things were. Two
or three of the people I tried to question backed and ran, as
though afraid I was about to attack and rob them, and after
the third instance I began seriously considering doing just that
to somebody. If I got lucky the City Guard would be called
out, and then, at least, I'd be found.
I was blotting again at the sweat on my face with my
sleeve and giving thanks to Evon that my mail was rolled up
behind my saddle rather than on me, when Bloodsheen came
to an abrupt stop. I lowered my arm to see that we'd some-
how wandered into a dead-end court, the stone and wood
backs of buildings forming a silent canyon ahead, but that
wasn't what had stopped my mount. Bloodsheen, a trained
war horse, knew better than to simply continue on toward
people holding drawn swords without my signal, and he
hadn't yet been given that. My hand went to my hilt even as I
glanced around, but it was immediately obvious that the five
men with their backs to me didn't even know I was there.
They were very busily watching a heavy wooden door in the
building to the left, which just then began swinging inward.
Not long after I'd first joined my Fist, Ham had tried
lecturing me on the dangers of being too "nosy," as he'd put
it. My perfectly natural curiosity had bothered him because of
the trouble I'd sometimes found due to it, and although the
lectures had eventually ended when he got tired of wasting
his breath, he had never given up pestering me entirely. For
my own part, I've always felt that if Evon hadn't wanted us
investigating the odd or unusual, he wouldn't have appeared
to the first Blades and taught them sword skill. With that in
mind I slid my sword noiselessly free of its scabbard, then
waited to see what would happen next.

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER
63
What happened was that the heavy door swung all the way
inward, and the five outside gave a step or two of ground to
allow a sixth to back out among them. As soon as he had
cleared the door, it became obvious why he'd been moving so
slowly: his left arm was wrapped around the throat of a
woman, and the dagger in his right fist was poised at her side
at rib height. That in itself would have been odd enough, but
none of the six men were really paying attention to the
woman. Their stares remained on the doorway, held by the
man who stepped through after the one holding the woman
captive.
From the reactions of the waiting and watching six, you
would have thought they considered the seventh man an
incarnation of Evon himself. To my stranger's eye he fell
somewhat short of that, but from the way he moved there was
no doubt about his being a fighting man. The six apparently
challenging him wore a raggedy collection of homespun mixed
with small amounts of leather, as though they believed the
presence of leather would add to whatever sword skill they
had attained. The seventh wore nothing of leather except for
his boots, which were probably as expensive as his fitted dark
green trousers and short jacket, and the white silk shirt show-
ing snow-like in the sunlight. The woman wore a day-gown
of gold that companioned better with the seventh man's cloth-
ing than with that of her captors, and even from where I sat I
could see that she was trembling.
"All right, I'm out here alone and you have me," the
seventh man said to the others, his right hand, closed into a
fist, making not the slightest move toward the sword he wore.
"There are enough of you to make sure you won't have any
trouble, so you can let the girl go."
"We're the ones who say who stays and who goes," the
man holding the girl denied, a nervous grin of satisfaction on
what I could see of his face. "You get rid o' that swordbelt
right there, and then step out to where my friends c'n reach
you. We don't let the girl go till that happens."
The seventh man looked as though he wanted to bare his
teeth in a snarl, a reaction to all the things he couldn't do. He
probably didn't believe they'd release the woman any more
than I did, but if he refused to obey the commands he'd been
given she would have no chance at all. He glanced around at

64
Sharon Green
the six men staring at him, all of whom were taller and larger
than he, and then his hands began rising slowly to his swordbelt.
In another minute he would be disarmed, but I'd decided not
to give that confrontation another minute.
There are certain times in battle when your opponents are
just short of being rattled and ready to break, needing only
one more push to send them over the edge. Different Fists use
different means of delivering that push, but our Fist had
always been partial to suddenly charging in from five attack
points with piercing whistles, very much like the screams of
hunting hawks. I'd always found the tactic to be reliable and
effective, but the six bravos in the court found it a lot more
than that.
A touch of my heels to Bloodsheen's sides sent him hap-
pily and eagerly forward, the sound of my ear-splitting whis-
tle telling him joyous battle was about to start. The five men
with swords nearly fell all over themselves whirling at the
double sound of hooves and attack cry, and even the sixth
almost lost his hold on the woman captive, so fast did his
head snap around. Most of them did nothing more than stare
at me gape-mouthed as I charged forward, showing how
battle-experienced they really were, but the seventh man
didn't have their trouble. His startlement lasted no more than
seconds, and then he jumped to the man holding the woman
and pulled her out of a shock-loosened grip. By then I was
just about in amongst them, and there was no more time for
paying attention to anything other than fighting.
Bloodsheen claimed first contact with his hooves and teeth,
but my swordstroke didn't follow much behind his attack.
Two men went down fast with screams, and then I was out of
the saddle and fighting on foot, a necessary gesture with
opponents like those. The ones simply holding their swords in
front of them like talismans of luck quickly found it didn't
work that way, and those who actually managed to swing
their steel didn't fare much better. In what seemed like the
blink of an eye I was down to a final opponent, one fright-
ened enough to try carrying the attack to me, but fear-backed
berserker rage isn't as effective as some people think, not
against proper training and skill. I felt the wind of the man's
weapon as it flew past me in a wide swing, and then I felt the
jar of contact up my arm as my sword thudded into the

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER
65
middle of him. His backs wing faded to nothing as his knees
crumpled and he tried to scream, but men already dead have
trouble making sounds. I jerked my blade out of him and he
fell the rest of the way to the stone of the courtyard, then I
looked around to see what had happened to the would-be
victims.
The man stood with the woman trembling in his arms, his
expression concerned but not overly worried even though he
wasn't being allowed to move an inch from where he was. He
seemed to be familiar with the ways of war horses, and knew
that as long as he let Bloodsheen hold him at bay without
reaching for his sword, my mount would not attack. I whis-
tled again, this time in a different key, and Bloodsheen
backed off to let the two move as they pleased.
"Thank you," the man said at once with a grin, his hand
now patting the woman's shoulder. "I appreciate that almost
as much as your sudden appearance. I think you know my
sister and I owe you our lives."
"I just happened to be here at the right time," I said with a
shake of my head, holding my dripping sword away from
them as I walked forward. "I make it a practice never to
accept the lives people sometimes think they owe me—I have
enough trouble keeping just my own life straight. Do you
happen to know why they were after you?"
"As a matter of fact, I do," he answered, his dark eyes
going suddenly cold. "A—certain group of people decided I
was in their way, that as long as I stayed in business they
couldn't complete the stranglehold they want over—another
group of people. You deserve more in the way of answers
than I'm giving you, I know, but at this point the less you
know about these things, the safer you'll be. Will you be
visiting our city long?"
"Probably for the rest of a very short life, if I don't get
some directions to the south gate pretty soon," I came back,
beginning to look around for something to wipe my sword
on. I would have enjoyed having more details on the problem
the well-dressed man was in the middle of, but that wasn't
the time to ask for them. For all I knew my father already had
the details, and if he didn't I could always come back and
discuss the question of safety.
"Oeran, we must at the very least supply her with a

66
Sharon Green
guide," the woman said as I bent to use the homespun of a
former bravo on my blade. She still sounded shaken, but
there had been no hysterics out of her, and she was clearly
beginning to pull herself together.
"I'd take her myself if that wouldn't endanger her, Agia,"
the man responded, chuckling at what I'd said. "And if I
didn't need to get you quickly on your way away from here. I
won't give them another chance to use you against me, sister,
and certainly won't let you continue risking your life. You'll
go home and stay there until this—disagreement—is over."
"But Oeran . . . !" the woman began, glancing at me in
embarrassment as I straightened up again. She could see there
was no one around telling me what to do and where I had to
go, and she was a few years my senior. What she didn't seem
to realize was that I was a Blade, and that that was one of the
reasons I'd worked so hard for the calling.
"No buts," her brother said in a final way, grimacing as
he looked around. "By the time they find out the attack
failed, you're going to be well out of reach. In the name of
Evon's glowing hilt, young Blade, you have, as I said, my
deepest gratitude. If I didn't owe you, though, I'd be tempted
to complain about your manners. The only one of this filth I
got to put my hands on was the one holding my sister, and
that isn't right. Weren't you ever taught to share?"
"But I did share," I told the faint amusement in his eyes,
resheathing my weapon as I looked down at him. "I shared
with Bloodsheen, just the way I usually do. You don't hear
him complaining, do you?"
"Well, as a matter of fact I thought I heard an unhappy
mutter or two when you called him off us," the man Oeran
said with his grin back, his gaze flickering to my mount
before returning to me. "I could tell it from my own mutter-
ing because it was higher up. If you'll wait here just for a
minute, I'll see you get your guide. And once again—thank
you."
I nodded to acknowledge his thanks, then watched as he
guided the woman back through the door by the arm he had
around her shoulders. He hadn't introduced himself or his
sister, but he also hadn't asked my name, not even in the
light of my having gone against the most widely accepted
rules of conduct by deliberately neglecting to offer even a

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER
67
false name. He probably thought I was in trouble with the
King's Law, and I wondered if he'd hurried his sister inside
because he wanted her safe—or because he wanted her away
from a bad influence. They might owe their lives to me, but
there are certain kinds of people one simply doesn't associate
with.
I grinned as I remounted Bloodsheen, glad to have my
mood lightened from what it had been. The last time I'd been
home no one had considered me a bad influence, which is an
indication of how dull the visit had been. I had no doubt that
this visit would be different, and I was actually beginning to
look forward to it. This time I could be myself, which my
father had always maintained was the best thing to be. I'd
show him just how right he was, and then we'd happily get
on to family matters.
It wasn't much more than the minute specified before a
large group of men came out of the building into which the
man and woman had disappeared. They all wore the livery
and device of some House I didn't recognize, all but one who
wore none-too-clean homespun, a day or two's growth of
beard, and no visible weapon. The ones in livery began
moving bodies and mopping up pools of blood, but the one in
homespun gestured me after him as he trotted out of the court.
A touch of my heels and Bloodsheen was right after him,
following behind as he led us to a small stabling two streets
away. He worked fast getting an old nag of a horse saddled
and bitted, and once he was mounted he sidled as close as the
bag7of bones would come to an impatient war horse.
"Follow behind me, but not too close," he said in a rasp
of a voice, his eyes moving around to see if anyone was
paying too much attention to us. "I'll lead you to the south
gate, and you make sure you keep going through it. If you
ever find it—comfortable to come back to this city, buy a
drink or two in the Ax and Shield and just wait. Hire or
help—it'll be yours for the asking."
He nodded to show he'd been passing on a message, then
turned his mount and moved off as though he were going
somewhere all alone. I'd noticed that his accent was of a
higher class than his appearance, and I'd also noticed that the
small fighting man hadn't been joking about gratitude. I had

68
Sharon Green
hire any time I cared to claim it, which made me grin even
more than I'd been doing.
The old horse had more left in the way of speed and
endurance than 1 would have guessed, so it wasn't long
before I found myself directly on the way leading to the gate
I'd earlier begun believing someone had moved. The man
ahead of me took a narrow street to the right before reaching
the gate, his attention on nothing more than shouting people
out of his way, so I followed his example and passed the
street he'd taken without even glancing at it. For the third
time City Guardsmen looked at me without saying or doing
anything, and then 1 was out of the city in the afternoon light,
and riding up the winding road leading to my father's castle.
To the castle, not into it. Riding up a road and being
allowed inside guarded walls are not things done with equal
ease, something I'd forgotten in the presence of the waves of
homecoming washing over me. The waves suddenly ended,
though, when I tried riding straight in and found a hedge of
swords and bodies barring my way.
"Where d'you think you're goin', girl?" a grizzled and
burly sergeant demanded, sounding more annoyed than wor-
ried about Bloodsheen's rumbles of warning. "The Duke
don't hire no girl fighters for his House Guard, so botherin'
the cap'n won't buy you nothin'. Why don't you go home
like a good girl, and find a man the way you oughta."
"But 1 can't go home now, Sergeant," I said with helpless
tragedy and a deep sigh, stroking Bloodsheen's neck to calm
him. "One look at you and I knew I was in love, so you can't
just send me away. Besides, I'm expected."
"Expected by who?" he demanded in a harder voice, not
very pleased with the hooting laughter forced out of the men
around him. "Damned smart-mouthed Blades, never seen
one yet that didn't need a good, long taste o' real military
discipline. If you ain't lookin' for hire, what d'you want
here?"
"Frankly, the first thing I want is a drink or three, and then
a decent meal," I said, handing over the letter I'd taken out
of my saddlebag and tucked into my swordbelt. "It's been
something of a long ride."
The sergeant sheathed his blade and stepped forward to take
the envelope, glanced at my father's seal, then pulled the

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER
69
letter out and began reading with a frown. I was surprised to
see that he was able to read, but surprised is too mild a word
for what the man in front of me felt. The expression on his
face changed to stunned shock, and then his washed-out blue
eyes were staring up at me.
'Til be dyed and damned," he said in a choked voice,
causing his unit to shift uncomfortably, wondering what was
going on. "It ain't the same face, and* yet it sure as hell is,
five years'r no five years. I was here the last time you come,
but then it was in a carriage, just like the first time you left.
What in hell's the Duke gonna say?"
"Do you expect me to find out from way out here?" I
asked, annoyed at the question he'd put and the way he'd put
it. "If it's too much trouble for you to move your men out
of the way, I'll go back to the city and get lodging in a
tavern."
"Like hell you will!" he barked, totally incensed at the
idea. "The Duke'd have my skin for a rug, an' me the first in
sayin' he had the right. Inside with you now, an' let 'em see
to you fit and proper!"
He turned to shout his men out of my way, giving them
even more of his sweet disposition than he'd sent in my
direction, and then he turned back to me with a glower. He
must have been ready with a demand as to why I hadn't yet
ridden through, but seeing my outstretched hand reminded
him that he hadn't returned my letter. He muttered under his
breath while he folded it, replaced it in the envelope and
handed it back, then, to the surprise of his men, stalked under
the stone arch ahead of me. It looked like I had an escort
again, and one who liked Blades even less than Timper.
The arch led through the approach tunnel into the wide
outer court, which had people moving back and forth on
business of their own. Most of them turned to look at the unit
sergeant—who seemed ready to walk through anything in his
way, including walls—and then moved their glances to me,
probably considering me wise for staying on a war horse
while I was that close to him. For my own part, I was too
busy rolling in the waves of home-return again to really care
about the sergeant.
My father's castle was big and solid, designed to withstand
the attack of armies, gray and ominous in the sight of many,

70
Sharon Green
as beautiful as ever in my admittedly prejudiced eyes. I'd
been born in that pile of stone and had spent the first half of
my life there, exploring every corner of it and getting to
know it even better than most of my brothers. My mother had
always tried to do things to pretty it up and my father, who
had loved her very much, had never told her she was wasting
her time; she kept trying until the day she died, never having
seen the real, true, inner beauty of the place we called home.
I had seen it, though, and that perception always made home-
coming a very special time for me.
"You grow roots on that spot, Soldier?" a heavy voice
demanded, bringing me back to an awareness of the wide
doors we'd stopped in front of. "I told you to get Sir Fonid,
an' 1 mean now!"
"Right away, Sergeant!" the boy he'd been barking at
shrilled out, and then he was running back through the doors
he'd just come out of. A servant in livery just inside watched
the goings on with confusion, wondering if he should be
holding the doors open or closing them, and then his mind
was made up for him.
"Get a stable boy from the watch room," the Sergeant
ordered, his tone of command only slightly different from the
one he'd used on the Guardsman. "Make sure it ain't one o'
the new ones, 'cause they don't know the handlin' o' war
horses yet. Get 'im fast, so the lady c'n go inside."
The servant looked the least bit indignant over being or-
dered around by someone who wasn't noble, but arguing the
point wasn't something he was up to doing. He left the doors
and headed toward the watch room in a gait that could only
be called a dignified run, and the sergeant waited until I'd
dismounted, then moved a step closer to me.
"The Duke ain't here now," he announced in a tone that
almost accused my father of having run away from home—at
the most inconvenient time. Sir Fonid'll see to gettin' you
what you need, an' don't you go givin' him no Blade backtalk.
He only been here three years'r so, but he got this place
runnin' real smooth. The Duke wouldn't like seein' 'im flyin'
in circles, like you done to some before you got sent north. I
remember them days, just like they was yesterday, so you
watch your step."
"Say, 1 remember those days, too!" 1 responded as though

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER
71
I'd forgotten till then, beaming happily at the sergeant. "They
were a lot of fun, weren't they? I could use some fun after the
long wintering 1 just went through, not to mention the ride.
Thank you for suggesting it, Sergeant."
The poor man started to go purple and he began drawing
himself up, so outraged that the words simply refused to
come, but he was saved from exploding by the hurried reap-
pearance of the Guardsman he'd sen! off, accompanied by
another man. The newcomer was likely into his fifth under-
decade, and was so filled with that special inner calm that his
dark hair and well-cut, conservative clothing were probably
never an inch out of place. He'd had no trouble keeping up
with the hurrying Guardsman, but it was fairly obvious that
he was the sort who never had to hurry.
"What problem do you have, Sergeant?" he asked as he
came up, his voice as even and calm as his appearance.
"Your man here said my presence was required."
"Likely you'll soon be wishin' it waren't, Sir Fonid," the
sergeant managed to get out, his glare at me the sort to melt
stone walls. "This here ain't just any petticoat Blade, she's
the poor Duke's bane. He's sure to want to see her, for a
minute'r so anyways, so you get to look after her till he gets
back. Me, I got gate duty waitin'."
With that he stomped away, undoubtedly planning on chew-
ing up his unit when he got back to them, seeing nothing of
the puzzled look he'd left Sir Fonid with. My father's major-
domo transferred the puzzlement to me, and then his eyes
widened with sudden inspiration.
"Perhaps I'm mistaken, but I believe the sergeant was
trying to tell me the one we've been awaiting has arrived,"
he said, a surprising amount of warmth now in his voice.
"Have I the honor of addressing the lady Sofaltis?"
"I'm not sure how much of an honor it is, but I am
Solfaltis," I admitted, trying to keep as much of my amuse-
ment as possible on the inside. "You might want to ask the
sergeant his opinion."
"I think I already have his opinion," Sir Fonid said with
an unexpected twinkle in his eye, then stepped smoothly
aside to let the newly arrived stable boy dash past rather than
into him. "If you'll give your horse to the boy, I'll do
what—looking after—needs to be done."

72
Sharon Green
I watched just long enough to be sure the boy really did
have experience with war horses, then went inside to join the
quietly waiting majordomo. His dark eyes were studying me
openly, and when I reached him he began leading the way
across the very wide entrance hall.
"I understand you haven't been home for some years now,
my lady," he said in a way that made me feel we were
already friends. "You and the sergeant, I take it, have a
previous acquaintanceship to draw on?"
"I don't remember him, but apparently he remembers
me," I answered, giving most of my attention to the house
and its familiar contents as we walked. "He seems to remem-
ber how—high-spirited—1 was as a child, and now hasn't
much use for the Blade I've become. Just before you got
here, he was ordering me to behave myself."
"A rather impertinent attitude to be taking with a lady of
the Duke's family," Sir Fonid murmured, still inspecting me
with those eyes. "A lady nobly born may always be counted
on to behave in a proper manner—or so I've found it to be. I
hope you berated him soundly for his insolence."
"Berating isn't nearly as interesting as doing things my
way, Sir Fonid," I replied, moving left with him toward the
wide stairway leading above. "And as for always behaving in
a proper manner—why, of course I do. Don't you?"
I turned my head then to look straight at him, letting him
see exactly how far off his calculations had been. I didn't
wonder that the household ran well under him, not with all
the ways he obviously knew to handle people, but I don't
enjoy being handled—or admire attempts to back me into a
corner. If I was a "lady nobly born," which I was, and that
sort always did a certain thing, then it followed that I had to
do the same. Sir Fonid looked back at me, apparently under-
standing that our ideas of "had to" were not going to coin-
cide, and a faint smile curved his lips.
"I think I'm beginning to have a bit more sympathy for the
sergeant," he said, having stopped at the bottom of the
stairway. "You remind me quite a lot of your father, Lady
Sofaltis, which I find myself surprised to discover in a female
who is also rather young. Have you already dismissed your
escort, or would you like me to arrange billeting for them?"
"I had no escort," I said, allowing him the chance to fall

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER
73
back and regroup as I turned my attention to starting up the
stairs. "What I would like is my old apartment supplied with
food and drink, to be ready for me as soon as I've finished
saying hello to my sisters. Are they still in the same apart-
ments they used to have?"
"Of course, my lady," he agreed with something of a bow
as he climbed beside me, his expressionless face saying he
would treat me as he probably did my father until he found
my weak spot. "Til escort you there, and then see to the
refreshments."
Nothing needed to be said to that so all I did was nod, but I
couldn't help noticing that so far my homecoming wasn't
much of a joy for those around me. 1 supposed they would
have been happier if I really was the sweet, shy, well-
mannered little thing I'd been pretending to be on my last
visit, but that was only because they didn't yet know I was
going to be my father's heir. Once they found out, of course,
it would make all the difference.
My sisters had grown an enormous amount since the last
time I'd seen them, and only Sella faintly remembered me.
She'd been about seven the last time I'd been home, old
enough to retain something of the memory, but Saeria had
only been five. At ten and twelve they found meeting their
older sister an exciting event, especially since I wore a sword
the way "ladies weren't supposed to do," and I was almost
wheedled into a chair to tell about every exploit I'd ever had.
I would have been hopelessly trapped if a servant hadn't
appeared then to tell them it was time for their embroidery
work or some such, and 1 was able to escape by promising
that I would spend hours with them at another time. They
were little-girl disappointed but went with the servant without
much in the way of rebellion, not exactly the way I'd done it
when I'd been their age. I thought about that as I left Sella's
apartment, and was still thinking about it when I got to my
own.
Opening the door showed my sitting room spotlessly clean
and dust-free, the silvered curtains fluttering freshly at the
windows, the furniture uncovered with pillows fluffed, and a
tray holding a pitcher and goblets on the table next to a heavy
leather chair. It looked like I really had been expected, but
happily no maidservant had been moved into the smaller bed-

74
Sharon Green
room as yet. As I walked toward the pitcher and goblets I
remembered the last girl sent to "help" me, not more than
halfway through her second under-decade and already so
stuffy that i had been able to imagine her in her sixth. She'd
ridden me unmercifully the entire time I'd been there, bully-
ing the "shy young lady" with straight-faced but glittering-
eyed glee, and I hadn't been able to do more than think about
dismembering her. This time, though, if she was still in the
house and assigned to me again . . .
I couldn't have been more than two steps from the pitcher
and goblets when a quick knock came at the door, and then it
was thrown open to allow a big man to stride through. He
wore the brownish red leather of a Fighter with a swordbelt
firmly about his hips, and although his dark hair was begin-
ning to be streaked with gray his weather-creased face was
still as young and alive as it had always been. His dark and
merry eyes found me at once, and without hesitation he
strode forward with arms opened wide. 1 couldn't remember a
time when Traixe hadn't greeted me like that, and I turned
back to meet him with a hug of my own.
"Sofaltis, girl, it's so good to see you again," he said in
his very deep voice, crushing me carefully in the painless
bear hug he always gave. "And you've grown even taller than
the last time we—"
His words broke off as though something unexpected had
just occurred to him, and then I was being held out at arm's
length, his eyes narrowed and his big hands on my arms.
Traixe had been my father's most trusted advisor and a priest
of Evon since well before I was born, and I didn't know a
single soul who could be inspected by him like that without
privately reviewing their latest actions in the hopes of finding
nothing he would disapprove of.
"This is just another prank, isn't it," he said rather than
asked after a moment, the end of his inspection shifting his
gaze to my face. "You thought it would be amusing to come
home dressed as a Blade, pretending to be something you're
not. Tell me I'm right."
Most people who wanted to continue enjoying full health
and life made it a practice to tell Traixe exactly what he
wanted to hear, and then worked hard to be sure it was the
truth. I, however, didn't have that pleasant option, which

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER
75
made me even more aware of the hands wrapped around my
arms.
"If you'll remember, I always said I wanted to grow up to
be just like you," I offered, my voice so small and hesitant I
might as well have been Sella or Saeria. "As a matter of fact
1 promised, and you know how I feel about promises. ..."
This time it was my voice that trailed off, but only because
Traixe had closed his eyes, as though in the grip of deep
pain. It's always best to be yourself, my father had a habit of
saying, and I couldn't help wondering who had given him
such misinformation.
"The last time we saw you, you were as proper a young
lady as it's possible to be," he said after taking a very deep
breath, and then those eyes were on me again. "I want to
know how you go from that to this in only half a decade time.
You spend two or three seasons green before you even rate a
Company medallion, and no Fist alive and wanting to stay
that way would— No, no guesswork. 1 want to hear it from
you."
"Do you mind if I get a drink first?" I asked, deciding that
if he was going to let me live long enough to give him the
information he wanted, I might as well take advantage of it.
"Long-winded explanations after longer rides tend to be wear-
ing on the throat."
"I don't have the time for you to be long-winded," he
rumbled ominously, but still let my arms go. "Get your drink
and we'll both sit down, and then I want to hear it all—briefly."
"1 think I'll need Evon's help for that," I said as I turned
back toward the tray, not missing the way he flinched at the
words. He couldn't be very used to hearing women call on
Evon, I knew, but he didn't jump on me for it. Traixe wasn't
anything if he wasn't fair, and he knew as well as I that I had
the right.
I filled two goblets automatically while trying to decide
where to begin and what could be left out, then carried them
over to where Traixe stood waiting in front of two brocaded
chairs half-facing one another. I handed him his cup with a
smile then raised mine to my lips, took a sip—and almost spit
it out again. I didn't realize I'd said anything until the big
man put those eyes on me again.
"it's been a while since I heard barracks-talk like that," he

76
Sharon Green
remarked, not in the least amused. 4if I hear it again, we'll
start right now with helping you to wnlearn it. What's the
matter, did something sneak up and bite your—boots?"
His very obvious altering of a common Blade saying was
meant to show where he stood on the question of language,
but I'd heard him use worse than what I'd said any number of
times, when he hadn't known I was listening. If I hadn't had
a question to answer, I might have mentioned the point.
"What's the matter is this—drink," I said, looking down
into my goblet with a grimace. "I wasn't expecting iced
sweet fruit."
"Why not?" he countered, deliberately drinking from his
own cup to show me it could be done without certain verbal
accompaniment. "Iced sweet fruit is the drink usually brought
to proper young ladies. Are you trying to tell me you're not a
proper young lady?"
The calm stare he was giving me was a direct descendant
of the ones I'd gotten all too often as a child, usually after
being caught doing something I shouldn't have been doing.
That same question had always accompanied the stare as
well, but for the first time I was hearing it as a full-grown
Blade rather than as a small girl-child. Traixe, well into his
fourth under-decade, was still a better fighter than I would
ever be, but I found myself straightening where I stood and
meeting that stare unblinkingly. The question he'd put to me
so often was too close to a standard insult every female Blade
ran into on a regular basis, and my reaction was too auto-
matic to even consider letting the matter slide by.
"By Evon's Silver Bracers—!" Traixe exclaimed, taking
one step back with a convulsive movement of his right hand.
He stopped the movement almost before it began, but his calm
had been shaken very slightly out of his grip.
"Sofaltis, you startled me," he said, his brow creased with
the disturbance he felt. "The way you looked at me—for an
instant I thought you were going to draw on me. What could I
have said—" His eyes widened as he realized exactly what
he'd said, and then he shook his head as he put a hand over
those eyes. "And I complained about the language you used,"
he said with a deep sigh. "I'd forgotten what circulates as
proper for a young lady among Blades. 1 apologize, of course,

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER
77
sincerely and humbly. And why the hell didn't you draw on
me?"
He was so indignant so quickly that it was my turn to be
startled, and then 1 was laughing and shaking my head the
way he'd done. If female Blades made a habit of starting
fights over that insult, male Blades who associated with
female Blades started them faster and a lot more often. None
of us who were female knew exactly why that was, but that
particular insult could set our Fistmates off faster than an
attempted backstabbing.
"I didn't draw on you because I only just got home," I
told him after a moment, still chuckling. "That means I'd
like to wait awhile before inviting a sendoff, especially of the
final sort. I may take you on some day, Traixe, but not before
your ninth or tenth decade."
"Well, at least they taught you more good sense than you
used to have," he said, trying to look and sound gruff rather
than pleased and flattered. "I can't wait to find out how this
all came about."
"1 suppose it was something of an accident," I answered,
taking the hint to get started while I gestured him to a chair
and took the other myself. "When I first got to Aunt Illi's
house, she and 1 didn't exactly hit it off. We both knew why
I'd been sent there, and while she was determined to see me
become a true lady of quality, I was just as determined that I
wouldn't become one. We went back and forth for weeks,
Aunt llli fighting with every weapon she could think of—
including patience—me ignoring overtures and orders alike,
and then she had an inspiration. She was sure her idea would
work, so she went ahead and made the arrangements."
"For hiring someone with a belt to use on you, I hope,"
Traixe said, back to giving me that look again. "If you
hadn't been the daughter of my lord Duke—and he too
softhearted where females are concerned—you would have
had it from me the very first time you pulled your shenani-
gans. Is that what she did?"
"You're closer than you know," I said with a grin, not
about to tell him how relieved I'd been when I'd first found
out he wasn't allowed to discipline me with anything but
lectures. If he had been permitted a free hand, so to speak,
my excursions of freedom, as I'd liked to call them, might

78
Sharon Green
not have been quite so frequent. "Aunt IIIi had gotten so sick
of hearing me flatly refuse to be a lady of quality, she
decided to give me a chance at my only other 'option.' Being
nobly bom 1 had to be something of quality, so if I refused to
belady the only thing left was being a gentleman. The
arrangements she made were for me to begin serious weapons
study, which would have been done as a matter of course if
I'd been a boy."
"Thinking that would change your mind if anything could,"
he said with a nod and another deep sigh, then rubbed at his
eyes with his free hand. "The theory was sound, and one I
might have tried myself if I'd thought of it. How quickly did
it backfire?"
"Oh, just about from the very first day," I said, swallow-
ing down some of my grin when the satisfaction in my voice
brought his stare to me again. "I was taller than most of the
boys training with me, faster than all of them, and didn't
believe in crying if I got hurt. At first the armsmasters, at
Aunt Illi's orders, were harder on me than on any of the
others, but once we began getting deeper into the drills they
went from riding me to teaching me in almost the blink of an
eye. I hadn't known that armsmasters never question talent,
only train it, and neither had Aunt Illi. By the time she found
out, it was much too late."
' "But didn't she withdraw you and try something else?" he
asked, not up to understanding that part of it. "If it wasn't
working, why did she continue with it?"
"Traixe, the Countess Mi happens to be that rarest of all
people, someone with a born sense of honor," 1 said slowly,
trying to make him see it in the proper light. "What she
wanted for me was what would be best for me, and when she
saw how really happy I was she refused to take away that
happiness. If she'd found my talent in sewing, or stately
dances, or playing a lap harp and singing, she would have
seen me thoroughly trained in that; once she found that my
talent—and interest—lay in swordwork, she did her duty with
the same thoroughness she does everything. By the time I
was fourteen I was accepted into a Company, and I had my
medallion even before I came home for my last visit."
"An acquisition you didn't see fit to share with your father
or me," he said, still sour. "Was that because of your age, or

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER
79
because you were waiting for the perfect moment to break the
good news?"
"Mostly the first," I admitted, still fighting with my grin.
"Aren't you the least bit proud of me? And prouder now than
you would have been half a decade ago? We went through
some pretty heavy fighting before first snow, but the Silver
Gleaming had the lightest casualty rate of any Company
involved. How about it, Traixe, not «even a small pat on the
back?"
"If it was up to me I'd give you more than one pat, and
not quite on the back," he growled, slamming his almost-
untouched cup down on the table between us before getting to
his feet to prowl up and down. "Not only do you not learn
what your father wanted you to learn, you corrupt a Count-
ess, join a Sword Company, and fight as a Blade in a war we
all thought you were safely protected from! Is that what you
want me to congratulate you about? How close you came to
getting killed?"
He stopped to glare at me with the question, his eyes really
angry, and somehow that made me remember what Rull had
said just before I'd left Fyerlin. It came to me then that I was
also still holding a goblet, so I reached to the table to put
mind down next to his. When I looked back Traixe was
closer than he had been, and then he was reaching down with
a sigh to pull me to my feet and back into that familiar
bear hug.
"Of course I'm proud of you," he said with the sort of
gentleness most people didn't know he was capable of, his
hand stroking my hair as he held me to him. "I couldn't be
prouder if you were one of mine rather than one of the
Duke's, and I know your actions are and always will be of
the sort to make Evon's name shine. Pride has nothing to do
with worry over your safety, child, especially in times such
as these."
"Which is, after all, the reason I'm home now," I said at
the reminder, raising my head while trying to understand how
I could have forgotten. "Traixe, how serious is the trouble
we're facing?"
"Serious enough to make us desperate," he answered,
letting me go with a pat on the shoulder. "I won't say any
more than that, I know your father wants to tell you himself,

80
Sharon Green
but you'll have to wait until he gets back. He's out hunting
with the Counts and Barons he's currently guesting."
"I heard he wasn't home," I said with a frown, reaching
for my cup before remembering what was in it. "Why would
he be guesting the Counts and Barons at a time like this? And
that reminds me: how did you know I was here?"
"I'd asked Sir Fonid to let me know the moment you
arrived, and he did," Traixe answered, scowling down at his
own cup. "As far as the guesting goes, that's part of what
you'll be discussing with your father, but I've just thought of
something that makes me feel a good deal better than I've
been feeling. I'll still be supplying you with some of my men
as a bodyguard, but now I don't have to worry about whether
or not they're perfect. All they'll need to do is slow any
attackers long enough to give you warning; if a Blade of a
Fist in the Silver Gleaming can't handle it after that, no one
can."
He was showing a very evil grin just then, the contents of
his cup no longer bothering him, just as what 1 was had
suddenly become a Good Thing. Life in a Sword Company
had taught me to be very suspicious of abrupt Good Things,
as what they usually turned out to be was something else
entirely.
"You know, I seem to remember the last time I saw a grin
like yours," I remarked, folding my arms as I stared at him.
"It was when a Fist leader named Seepar came to tell us how
lucky we were to have his Fist backing ours. Why were you
so eager to find out the minute I got here, Traixe, and why
would you imagine I need a bodyguard?"
"I had to know because you do need a bodyguard, and
there's nothing involving imagination about it," he said, the
grin gone and the growly Traixe back again. "Your brother
decided he didn't need a bodyguard and slipped away from
them, and by the time they caught up with him again it was
too late. He'd already had his 'accident,' and that was the
end of that. I'll go down myself first before I let the same
thing happen to you."
"And I'd rather let them try it with me," I said, finally
able to show what I'd been feeling ever since I'd heard about
Rymar. "My brother was one of my favorite people, Traixe,

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER
81
and they killed him with the uncaring ease others use on
insects. I want them to try it with me."
"I haven't got enough men to pick up the number of pieces
there would be left," he said, a wishful-thinking satisfaction
peeking out of his eyes. "I'd turn you loose on them if I
could, girl, but there's too much at stake here to do some-
thing like that—even if your father agreed, which he never
would. From now on you'll be having a bodyguard whether
you like it or not, so you'd better get used to the idea. Now,
what say I have them bring us something decent to drink?"
Traixe knew better than to try bribing my attention away
from something, and I was about to say so when a knock
came at the door just before it was opened. I turned to see a
serving girl entering with a tray of food and a large pitcher
that didn't look as though it contained fruit juice, and my
companion decided to use what distractions the intervention
of Evon gave him.
"Aha! See there? The best service in the kingdom," he
announced with a grin, predictably enjoying my annoyance
over the interruption. "Bring that pitcher here, girl. The lady
and I mean to sample it before we get to the food."
"What's in this here pitcher ain't for the lady, Lord Traixe,"
the girl answered primly, putting everything down on a table
a good distance away from me. "Sir Fonid says to bring it for
you so I did, but she can't have none o' it. Soon's she eats
she's gonna get a bath, and then be put in clean, decent
clothes before she takes her nap. M'lord Duke'11 want 'er
lookin' fresh and pretty at the feastin' tonight, and that's
gonna take me some doin'."
"Will it really?" I murmured from two feet away behind
the girl, causing her to turn fast in startlement to look up at
me. I'd thought I recognized her voice and manner, and sure
enough I hadn't been wrong; she was the same servant I'd
had five years earlier. I looked down at her with my finger-
tips resting on my swordbelt, and suddenly she was out of
words and observations. Traixe, moving as fast as only a
fighter can, "accidentally" shouldered me back from her,
then put an arm around her wide-eyed form and headed her
toward the door again.
"I think it will be best if the lady sees to herself until she
has the time to choose a permanent personal maid," he told

82
Sharon Green
the girl, using his most soothing voice as he gently hurried
her out of harm's way. "You go back to whatever your
regular duties are, and if someone tries to send you here
again, you refer them to me."
The girl opened her mouth, probably to argue the point if
my past association with her meant anything, but Traixe had
no intentions of having her blood on his hands. He put her
out the door and closed it in her face, and the two fighters I'd
seen out there before the door closed were left to keep her
from coming back in.
"You don't waste any time," I observed, referring to the
fighters. "If I had to guess, I'd say you brought those two
with you. And what's this about a feasting tonight?"
"I brought more than two with me, and the feasting is to
welcome you home," he said, going for two fresh cups from
the other tray before returning to the newly-brought pitcher.
"If you're hungry now, you'd be wise to do justice to what's
on this tray. The feasting won't start until well after dark, to
give your father and the others a chance to freshen up after
the hunt."
"Why do I get the feeling you're not saying about three
times more than you're saying?" I demanded, still annoyed at
the way things were going. "Why can't you give me even a
small hint about all these things I'll be discussing with my
father?"
"If I give you a hint, then you'll be discussing those things
with me instead of your father, and that's not the way he
wants it," Traixe replied with a grin, turning to me with two
cups filled with the brew I'd been able to smell since it came
through the door. "Since you're all grown up and a full Blade
I'll give you one of these, but if you don't make it to the
feasting because of it, it's iced sweet fruit for you from now
on."
"If I had to stay with iced sweet fruit, I'd end up saving
the enemy the trouble of designing an 'accident,' " I said as I
took the cup being held out to me, my comment widening
Traixe's grin to chuckling. "And if you're going to be stub-
born about it, I just may empty that tray myself. I skipped
breakfast this morning through being in a hurry to get here,
and was too lost in the city to make a stop at noon."
"How did your escort manage to get lost in the city?"

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER
83
Traixe asked, watching with continuing amusement while I
swallowed at the brew then moved forward to take a chunk of
deep-fried boar meat. "The City Guard usually leads escort
groups through, just to be rid of the extra traffic faster."
"Groups may be led, but lone Blades don't get a service
like that," I said around a mouthful, impressed with how
tender my father's cook had gotten the boar meat. "I would
have been better off if they'd distrusted me enough to keep an
eye on me, then I wouldn't have had to . . ."
"You just hold it right there!" he interrupted in the hardest
voice yet, his fingers closing tight around my arm. "What do
you mean, 4lone Blades'? What happened to the escort you
left Fyerlin with?"
"I didn't leave Fyerlin with anyone but that courier Timper,"
I answered, wondering why he was back to that black scowling
he was so famous for. "The more people you have in your
party the slower you move, and 1 was even tempted more
than once to leave Timper behind. I would have done it, too,
if he wasn't so helpless on the trail. Do you believe he didn't
even know how to set up a night camp?"
"There are a lot of things I don't believe," he said in a
mutter, his hand gone from my arm so that he could rub at his
eyes again before favoring me with another lowering glare.
"We won't mention the fact that your father sent along
enough gold to hire three escorts, just to be sure you got the
best protection available. We won't even mention the fact
that you were so dim you actually rode through the city alone
when you must have at least guessed how dangerous that
was. What we will mention, however, is that you alone took
to the trail with a man alone, and the two of you spent all that
time together alone! Have you any idea what that does to
your reputation? Who's going to believe nothing happened
between you?"
44Anyone who's spent more than five minutes in Timper's
company," I retorted, my ears ringing from the way he'd
been shouting. "If I even glanced in his direction after dark,
he was immediately ready to jump up and run for the King's
Fighters screaming rape. It may have been a long ride, Traixe,
but no ride would be long enough to make me that desperate.
And why are you yelling at me like that? What can a trip,

84
Sharon Green
even one like that, do to a Blade's reputation? If there wasn't
fighting involved, and there wasn't, who would even care?"
"Evon help us all," he responded in a hoarse voice, his
eyes suddenly so wide he looked as though he were about to
fall over. "How could I have overlooked that or forgotten
about it? If you're a Blade, then you must have—more than
once—" He turned away from me to empty his cup in a
single gulp, then immediately reached for the pitcher again
while muttering, "The Duke's strong, he'll be able to take
this in stride, but the other—he'll be expecting what all men
expect. Will he be wise enough to ignore it for the sake of the
bargain?"
"Traixe, would you like to tell me what you're talking to
yourself about?" I asked as sweetly as I could. "Then all
three of us will know enough about th& conversation to contrib-
ute to it."
"All three of us?" he echoed, now looking as though he
were coming out of a dream—a confusing one. "Sofaltis,
there are only two of us in the room. Maybe that brew is too
strong for you after all."
"What's getting too strong is the rank smell of suspicion,"
I snapped, suddenly back to the annoyance I'd thought I'd
left behind. "Why are you acting like a Blade in a night house
whose groin guard won't come off? And what was that you
were muttering a minute ago about a bargain? What sort of a
bargain, and who is it with?"
"It's time for me to be getting back to my duties," he
said, emptying his cup again more slowly before placing it
carefully on the tray, Ms eyes deliberately avoiding mine.
"There will always be four fighters stationed outside your
door, and if you go anywhere at all, they're to go with you.
It's good having you home where you belong, girl, and you
needn't worry that you'll have to leave again."
He finally turned to face me but only to bow, and then he
was striding toward the door, his intentions obvious. I got a
second glance of the fighters outside and then I was alone, to
stew in some very unsavory juices. Something was going on,
but I wasn't to find out about it until my father got back. I
muttered a few suggestions as to what they could all do with
their secrets, Traixe in particular, and turned back to get on
with my interrupted meal.

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER
85
* * *
Duke Rilfe of the House of Kienne of the Duchy of Gensea
had bareiy reached his apartment when a knock came at the
door. He turned with the cup of mulled wine in his hand to
see Lord Traixe entering, an arrival which caused the servants
in the room to bow and take their departure through another
door. They would have done that at th£ appearance of any of
the Duke's advisors, but just at that moment the Duke was
particularly pleased with the custom.
"Traixe, she's here!" he was able to say almost at once,
grinning as the other man moved toward him. They would
both keep their voices down, but there was no reason to do
the same with relief. "Fonid told me as soon as I came
through the door, so our guests would know about the feast-
ing. I've had word that Trame's son should also be here soon,
so this madness might work out after all. Her safety was my
greatest worry, but now that she's here I may be able to sleep
again."
"Yes, she's certainly here," his old friend agreed, some-
thing of a wry expression underlying his sobriety. "I have
fighters stationed outside her door, of course, and she and I
had a little talk."
"What's wrong?" the Duke asked at once, his pleasure
turned to concern, his free hand reaching to the other's arm.
"Is she ill or harmed in some way? They haven't gotten to
her, have they?"
"No, no, nothing like that, Your Grace," Traixe said even
more quickly, his own hand gripping the Duke's arm. "She's
not only in full health, she's also furious at what was done to
her brother. They haven't a prayer of shifting her allegiance
to their cause."
"Furious, eh?" the Duke said with a chuckle, able to relax
again at the assurance. Traixe never lied to him, not even to
spare him hurt, which was one of the reasons he valued the
man so highly as an advisor—and as a friend. "She sounds
like a chip off the family rock, more than she seemed to be
five years ago. She's well, you say, and for the most part
unchanged?"
"I suppose it might be accurate to say she's unchanged,"
Traixe murmured, his expression one of a man choosing his

86
Sharon Green
words carefully. "Possibly my lord Duke would be best
advised to cast his mind back not to her visit of five years
ago, but to the time she was first sent north."
"Now I'm worried, Traixe," the Duke said with narrowed
eyes, sipping at his wine without moving his gaze from the
other man. "Not only are you giving me my title in private,
you're raising your skirts to come at what you want to say on
tiptoe. You can't mean she's back to being the hellion she
was when she left?"
"Maybe we'd better sit down," Traixe said with compas-
sion in his eyes, causing the Duke to groan inwardly. Nothing
was really wrong with the girl, or Traixe would have said so
straight out. All that concern for his comfort had to mean
awkwardness or embarrassment, not as easily accepted or
handled as trouble. It had been a long time since Traixe had
last acted that way—come to think of it, the time before
Sofaltis had been sent north. . . .
"Out with it, old friend," the Duke said with a sigh,
deciding he'd soon know whether he should have taken the
advice to sit. "If I'm strong enough to face my enemies on
my feet, I should be strong enough to face my daughter in the
same way. Now that I'm braced, tell me what she's done."
"The sitting down would have been for my benefit,"
Traixe came back, rubbing at his chin with a finger. "1 can
tell you that she's prettier than she was five years ago, and
also a little taller. She seems to take after you in a lot of
ways, my friend, and I couldn't help but let her know how
proud I was of her."
Traixe paused, as though waiting for the Duke to pick up
the new topic thread he'd dangled, but the Duke knew him
too well to follow so appealing a lead. He stood silently,
simply staring at him, which gave Traixe no choice at all.
"It seems the Countess II11 is a believer in training what-
ever true talent a child has," he said with a sigh of resigna-
tion. "Sofaltis has spent the last decade having her talent
trained, and is now a Fistmate Blade of the best Sword
Company in the north."
The Duke continued to stand unspeaking, no sign of ex-
pression on his face, he was sure, but only because he felt
incapable of deciding on an attitude that would produce an
expression. He'd thought he was braced to hear just about

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER
87
anything, never having realized how vast a territory lay beyond
the boundaries of "just about."
"My daughter is a Blade?" he heard himself saying, as
though from very far away. "My sons were no more than
adequate with a sword, but their sister made Blade status?
You're joking, aren't you, Traixe?"
"In one way I wish I were," Traixe answered gently,
finding the question very familiar, "fri another way, how-
ever, I couldn't be more pleased. No matter how trustworthy
or capable a bodyguard is, it sometimes comes down to the
one being guarded ending up on his own. If that happens with
Sofaltis, I pity her attackers. They'll find they would have
been better off going against her bodyguard."
"Why, you're absolutely right," Duke Rilfe said with
dawning awareness, his mind no longer frozen in shock. "If
they do manage to reach through to her, she'll be a good deal
less of a victim that way. Of course, you're right; it's just
that it was so unexpected. Did you say she's been accepted
into a Fist?"
"And in the Silver Gleaming," Traixe agreed, privately
relieved to see the Duke taking it so well—so far. "I know
that Company by reputation, and they don't medallion anyone
unless they're really good. And it seems she also saved you
some expense. She came south from Fyerlin without escort,
dragging young Timper kicking and screaming all the way."
"The damned fool let her travel without escort?" Duke
Rilfe growled, nearly choking on the wine he'd been swal-
lowing. "If he finds the nerve to show up here again, I want
him brought to me! What did he think all that gold was for?
To keep him from being blown out of his saddle by the
wind?"
"I wouldn't be too hard on the boy," Traixe said, this time
certainly trying to rub a grin away with his finger. "I said
Sofaltis takes after you, and I didn't mean only with a sword.
If we thought her headstrong as a child, I'm afraid we'll soon
be learning the true meaning of the word. Timper hadn't the
faintest chance against her."
"That's no excuse for the stupidity of risking her," the
Duke grumbled, but part of him was clearly pleased with
what he'd heard. "Headstrong she may be, even more so
than her mother, Evon guard her sleep, but that's the sort of

88
Sharon Green
woman a family needs to keep it strong and ahead of the
pack. The sons she gives Trame's boy will do him as proud
as he and his brothers have done their own father, sons who
will also be my grandsons and grandheirs. Her husband will
find her a greater prize than simply a means to heirhood."
"Assuming he shows himself to be a man of reason,"
Traixe added, his tone and manner now circumspect. "She
tells me she had her medallion even before her last visit,
which means she's been a Blade for some years now. Blades
are many things both good and bad, but one thing none are,
and that goes for both male and female. Few fighters of any
sort will strive to preserve what may be lost along with life in
the very next battle."
"The hellion has thrown away her virginity?" the Duke
demanded in such a roar that Traixe winced over how many
of the servants might have heard the words despite not having
been deliberately listening. "She would dare do such a thing
without marriage vows wrapped firmly about her? Does she
think herself lowborn, and of common blood?"
"She thinks herself and is a Blade," Traixe replied in
lower tones, watching the Duke stride to his unlit hearth and
then return. "She couldn't have known she'd be needed to
keep her bloodline alive, otherwise she would certainly not
have done as she did. Do you doubt that? You know her as
well as any father may know his daughter; do you doubt her
loyalty to you?"
"No, her loyalty isn't in question and never can be," Duke
Rilfe grudged after a moment, still unhappy but forced, as
always, to be fair. "She may turn this household inside out
with her pranks and high spirit, but she would never betray it.
Is it too late to give you permission to spank her lame?"
The Duke's anger had turned to sour dissatisfaction, and
Traixe grinned to know they were now over the worst of it.
"Too late by a decade or more," he said, also knowing his
old friend would forgive his amusement. "Not to mention
that blade now hanging at her side. If her husband-to-be is
wise enough to become her husband in fact, he'll have to find
a way around it if he decides it's not too late after all."
"The man's a King's Fighter, not a laced and beribboned
sham-noble with perfumed kerchief," the Duke said in a
fittingly low tone, gesturing his friend with him to the chairs

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER
89
he'd earlier refused. "He won't let a thing like that stand in
his way, not when he stops to think about it. And consider
how much better his wedding night will be, to find a dry-eyed
and eager bride instead of one soaking the linen with her
tears, He'll still be a stranger to her, but not a feared one."
"Laced and beribboned," Traixe echoed, the expression
frozen on his face, his body suddenly motionless in the midst
of seating itself. Duke Rilfe, already in his chair, stared at his
friend without understanding, which Traixe seemed to notice
after a moment. He completed the movement of sitting, rather
heavily, the Duke thought, then shook his head in annoyance.
"You hadn't planned on telling her what he's really like,
but now you can't afford not to," the Duke's advisor said,
automatically shifting his sword into the carved slot of the
chair. "She's not the shy and quiet little thing we've been
picturing, remember. If he minces in the way he's supposed
to without her knowing what's happening, she'll take one
look at him and reach for her sword."
"I hadn't thought of that," the Duke admitted, rubbing
distractedly at his face as his mind worked. "No one but you
and I were supposed to know, but it wouldn't do to have her
attack my new heir even before the naming. We'll have
to— Ah, Evon take it and broil it! We cant tell her, Traixe!"
"But why not?" the other man asked, his confusion obvi-
ous. "If we don't there'll be hell to pay; that I'll wager gold
on. Once you speak to her you'll see . . ."
"See that she'll then have to play a part more demanding
than ours?" the Duke interrupted, just as upset as his advisor.
"The Servants of Grail must be hoodwinked; if not, it's
Sofaltis whose life may well pay for the failure. Everyone in
the house must know her status as a Blade by now. What will
happen if she greets the appearance of young Kylin without a
murmur? That would be like shouting the truth to everyone in
hearing, and if she tries to pretend disapproval, how convinc-
ing will she be? Do we dare take the chance that she'll be
convincing enough?"
"No more than we dare take the chance that she'll refuse
to be convincing at all," Traixe answered, sour.frustration
having wrapped him around. "It won't take her long to see
that hers is the life which is most at risk, and she's already
told me she wants to lure Rymar's murderers into coming

90
Sharon Green
after her. She may well turn out to be the embodiment of
sweet reason, but after speaking with her this afternoon—"
"You strongly doubt it," the Duke finished for him, ac-
cepting the opinion with a nod of understanding as he sat
back in the deep chair. "For her sake most of all, then, the
thing goes ahead as planned. You and I will be shocked at
Kylin's lack of manliness, but there will be nothing we can
do. The wedding will need to proceed as planned."
"What we can or can't do isn't what's gnawing at me,"
Traixe said, still sourly unhappy and wishing the Duke's
servants had stayed in the room long enough to warm him
some wine. "I've already agreed the girl mustn't be told, but
I'd still like to know what will happen when she catches first
sight of the groom-to-be. I don't envy your future heir, my
lord."
"Traixe, you can't let yourself worry about every little
detail," the Duke soothed him, sipping now at the excellent
wine in his cup, his gesture one of dismissal. "I'll speak to
Sofaltis before the feasting tonight, and give her formal no-
tice of the planned wedding. After that she'll need to accept
the man even if he slithers in on his belly and hisses at her.
She's my daughter, after all, and a daughter is still required
to obey her father."
A daughter, yes, Traixe couldn't help thinking, but a Blade?
The big fighter settled back in his chair, unaware of the fact
that his thinking had already changed to brooding. He had a
feeling deep in his bones that had nothing to do with advanc-
ing age, although he would have been happier with stiffening
up as its cause. The feeling had always warned him of
unpleasant things to come, but this time the Duke had told
him not to worry. If he worried anyway, could that be
considered insubordination and disobedience? Traixe sighed,
glad that at least he'd had the foresight to speak a few words
of warning to his fighters, about bracing against a possible
storm. He had also told them what to expect if any of them
should put a hand to the girl, even at her express invitation.
As if there weren't enough problems to worry about. . . .
"What do you mean, she resigned?" Rullin thundered, the
look in his eyes causing the Company clerk, a man of proven
courage and ability, to wish he was elsewhere. The Fist

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER
91
leader leaned his knuckles on the clerk's desk, which af-
forded an unimpeded view of the flames of rage flaring from
the Blade. Behind him three of the others of his Fist hovered
menacingly, as though it were the clerk's fault that the girl
was gone.
"Just what I said," the clerk repeated evenly, knowing
better than to try backing off in a situation like that. "She
came in here last night, asked to see her book, then wrote
something in it. After she left 1 looked to see what, and found
the resignation. That's about as official as it gets."
"Rull, what are we going to do?" one of his men asked, in
his own way more agitated than the Fist leader. "Her gear is
gone, her horse is gone—and now this!"
"It's all my fault," the big Blade answered, straightening
away from the desk but not turning to the others. "If I'd
stopped her last night—but it's too late for that now. All I can
do is go after her."
"Leaving us two Blades short?" another of the three asked,
more quietly than the first. "We'd need to break up the Fist
until you got back."
"Which means we'd be better off going with you," the
third put in, also calmly. "To help you rehearse what you're
going to say to her, if nothing else. She belongs to us, too,
you know."
Rullin nodded to show that he did know, but what he
didn't show was the relief he felt. He would have gone with
or without the Fist, but with them along he would have the
chance to relax and examine the very disturbing thoughts he'd
been experiencing since the night before. He'd talk to Soft
and Gentle when they caught up to her, all right, but what he
would say might not be what the others were expecting.

Chapter 4
I made use of my bed chamber to get a couple of hours'
sleep, and when I woke again 1 went out to the sitting room
to find that someone had brought my saddlebags and gear. I
took it all back into the bed chamber, stripped off the well-
worn leathers I had on and washed, then got into my dress
leathers with the silver trim. If nothing else I expected to be
impressive at the feasting, enough so that the barons and
counts guesting with my father would know who they were
dealing with. He didn't need their approval before naming an
heir, but their opposition could get to be annoying. I was
combing my hair and trying to decide whether or not to band
it when a knock came at my door, and when I went to open it
found a small serving girl standing there holding a gown in
both arms.
"The lord Traixe sends his compliments, my lady," she
said with a curtsey, smiling from a round and plainly pretty
face. "He said to say he knows you traveled without much in
the way of baggage, and would therefore like to offer you this
gown for the feasting tonight. It was made for one of his
daughters, but somehow came out much too long, and then
the seamstress died and his daughter was afraid to wear it
even if it were shortened, and— He said you wouldn't mind."
The gown she held was a gleaming silver with jet black
panels alternating, as beautiful a creation as any to be found
in the feasting halls of the north. At another time I wouldn't
have minded wearing it in the least—nothing but leather can
get very tiresome after a while—but that was the wrong
occasion for telling everyone how womanly I was. First they
92

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER
93
had to meet the Blade, and then they would have less diffi-
culty getting along with the woman.
"Please convey my thanks to Lord Traixe, and say that I
would feel honored if I might borrow the gown at another
time," 1 told the girl, watching the smile fade from her face.
"I've already dressed for tonight's feasting, and I'm really
not in the mood to change again."
"Oh, but my lady, you can't go like that/" the girl ex-
claimed, close to being horrified, her brown eyes wide. "The
other ladies will all be gowned, and the Duke will be . . ."
"Very glad for the difference," I finished firmly, grateful
for the sleep I'd had. If the girl's reaction was any indication
of what I was about to face—which it probably was—I was
sure to need all the self-control I could muster. My father was
certain to be annoyed if I ended up inviting one of his guests
to join me and my sword outside.
The girl looked to be ready to continue the discussion, so I
gave her a friendly smile and closed the door in her face, then
went back to combing my hair. Having spent half my life in
the north meant I had learned to look at things in the northern
way, but that didn't mean I'd totally forgotten how those of
the south viewed them. Members of the lesser nobility tended
to be very rigid in their beliefs and habits, the women just as
much as the men, which meant my father and I might have
something of a struggle ahead of us before I was accepted. If
I stood up to them stubbornly enough they would have to
accept me or challenge me, so I had to make sure they were
more than reluctant to give the challenge. The game-playing
would have to be balanced as carefully as a battle attack, but
I was determined to see it work out.
The one lamp I'd lit in my bedchamber had been straining
at the dimness for a while, but I didn't notice it until I went
back out to the sitting room. All the lamps were lit in there,
and a fire laid in the hearth as well, and the serving girl who
had come to my bedchamber door earlier was moving around
straightening things that didn't need to be straightened. There
was no sign of the gown she'd had, but when she turned her
smile was back in place.
"My lady, there's been word from your father the Duke,"
she said, coming across the carpeting toward me. "When
you've finished dressing he asks that you join him for a few

94
Sharon Green
moments before the feasting, and has sent someone to bring
you to him. He's a messenger and he's waiting outside with
the fighters, and— Are you really going to wear that swordl"
Her eyes had gone wide and rounded again and she'd
stopped about five feet away, as though debating whether it
would be safe to come any closer. Or maybe it was a matter
of taste that put her off, and she didn't think a black swordbelt
went well with black and silver leathers.
"1 hadn't realized the custom had changed," I told the
girl, deciding it might be best to find amusement in every-
thing that was said to me for as long as I could. "Aren't
members of the nobility still expected to wear their usual
weapons to a feasting? In case they need to be called on to
defend the castle in the event of an attack?"
"But of course that's still the custom," the girl answered,
blinking at me in confusion. "There hasn't been an attack for
years and years, but— Don't you know that's only supposed
to apply to the men?"
"It is?" I asked, trying to make my eyes go as wide as
hers. "Well, what do you know? Maybe in that case I'd be
best off first asking my father. The messenger he sent is
outside, you say?"
Her nod was very relieved and satisfied, saying she was
glad she'd told me something I hadn't known. She was a
good deal better than the servant I'd had during my last visit,
but I intended speaking to Traixe as soon as I saw him. If he
couldn't find one who was difficult to shock, I'd do without
a girl altogether.
The hall outside had five men instead of four, and the older
man who wasn't a fighter did a double-take when I left my
apartment. He had so obviously been expecting someone in a
gown that it really was funny, and then he made it better than
the serving girl had.
"By all the gods, my lady, you're supposed to be dressed,"
he blurted, his round and pudgy face showing how appalled
he was. The rest of him was quite a bit like his face, and he
looked up at me from the midst of his own finery.
"Evon help me, do you mean I've come out naked again?"
I demanded in turn, quickly crossing my arms in front of me.
"I'm so terribly embarrassed, and oh! What you must think
of me!"

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER
95
The man suddenly didn't seem to know what to think about
anything, and the chuckling coming from the four fighters of
my bodyguard only helped to turn his face ruddier than it had
been. When he settled on affronted dignity he drew himself
up, and then seemed doubly upset that he still didn't match
my height.
"That was quite amusing, my lady," he allowed, etching a
smile on his face to show that he really did have a sense of
humor. "Sir Fonid has spoken of the sharpness of your wit,
and as always he's quite correct. Am I to take it that you
mean to attend the feasting just as you are?"
"You may take it, keep it, or give it away if you like," I
answered with a pleasant, friendly smile, disappointed that he
hadn't managed to put a third "quite" into the speech.
"You're here to show me to my father?"
"Of course, Lady Sofaltis," he said in a stiff and brittle
way, bowing to cover his expression. He had briefly forgot-
ten the only reason he was there, and resented the fact that I'd
reminded him of it. "If you will follow me, please."
He led off down the hall and turned right, going toward my
father's wing of the castle, and just the way I followed him
my bodyguards followed me—or, at last, three of them did.
The fourth moved out ahead to walk just behind the round,
unjolly messenger, an eyes-ahead who would probably be the
first to fall if there happened to be an attack. None of us
really expected there would be an attack, not right there in the
castle, but that only goes to show how complacency can ruin
even professionals who should know better.
If the two doors on either side of the hall hadn't been
opened just at the same time, we would have had no warning
at all. The hall was broad in that wing, the carpeting old but
still thick, most of the rooms left unused unless there was a
royal visit with an entourage to put up. The wall lamps had
been lit and left that way, obviously to keep us from becom-
ing suspicious, but the fighters of my bodyguard must have
been just as used to passing doors there that stayed closed as I
was. The sound of the doors being thrown open just as we
passed them made us all reach for our hilts, and then the fight
was on.
How do you describe a fight between five defenders and
four times their number or more in awkwardly swinging but

96
Sharon Green
grimly determined attackers? My first thought was to wonder
where the hell they all could have come from, but that was a
question to be answered at another time. The men all wore
homespun with small swatches of leather pinned to them, and
the ones who swarmed in front of me didn't stand very long.
I had the fleeting impression that they weren't terribly eager
to face me, for which I couldn't blame them, but the wide
hall wasn't so wide that they had much of a choice. We
fought almost in each other's laps, my bodyguard swallowed
up fast in the raging torrent of bodies, each of them probably
as alone and surrounded as I was.
I didn't realize how wordlessly quiet the fight was until I
heard a shout and the pounding of boots on carpeting above
the clatter of steel, obviously a sizable group coming to join
the elbow-to-elbow melee. 1 had managed to put my back to a
wall hanging before anyone had found the opportunity to
swing at me from behind, and was spending most of my time
keeping the men in homespun from charging in on me. One
or two of them had tried throwing their lives away to a
purpose by attempting to impale themselves on my sword—
which might have kept my blade entangled long enough for
the others to reach me—but I wasn't fighting my first or
second battle. After I'd cut down the first of them to try the
ploy the others had given up on it, but when they heard the
approach of a relieving force they grew even more frantic
than they had been.
I honestly don't know how long I would have stood against
them then if they'd been even slightly more skilled with the
swords they held. I'd whittled them down to half a dozen or
less, but still couldn't attack without exposing my back to
their friends. Defensive fighting usually does very little more
than give your opponent a chance to find an opening through
that defense, but you don't attack in a situation like that—
especially without mail—unless it's to a purpose or your life
depends on it. They all began beating at me with their
weapons, as though they thought they were holding sticks
instead, and only the heavy sweep of my blade kept them
from rushing forward as they struck. Then the newcomers
reached us with shouts of outrage, and the attackers, almost
as one, turned and threw themselves at them.
Needless to say, it was only a matter of seconds before

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER
97
there was no one left standing who didn't have my father's
colors on the left side of his tunic. The newcomers had been
more of Traixe's fighters, and their leader stormed up just a
little behind them from what was probably a different direc-
tion, not realizing that his shouted orders were coming too
late. Traixe was trying to tell his men to keep at least a
couple of the attackers alive for questioning, something they
should have thought of on their own and might have if they
hadn't been so outraged. All of the attackers had escaped the
need to worry about being asked anything awkward, and
when Traixe saw that the expression on his face made some
of his men look as though they were envying those who
littered the floor.
"... damn' fool byblows who use mush for brains!"
Traixe was muttering as he came up to me, furious but still
inspecting me closely. "Are you hurt in any way at all,
Sofaltis? If you aren't it can only be because Evon stood as
your shield and guided your blade—as well as having been
your teacher."
He was eyeing the number of bodies around me at that
point, and even as I wiped at the sweat on my forehead with
the back of my left hand, I had to agree the number was
impressive. Now that I could look around, it seemed that most
of the attackers had been in my vicinity.
"None of them were good enough for Evon to have needed
to bother," I said, tossing my head to get the damp hair out
of my eyes, my bloody sword held carefully away from what
were supposed to be my dress leathers. "What about the
fighters who were with me?"
"Three of them are fine; no more than a scratch here and
there," he answered, and then the rage increased in his eyes
although his voice changed not at all. "I passed the fourth on
my way over here, lying on the carpeting with his throat
slit—and his head bashed in from behind. The only blood
near him was his own."
His glance had gone to my left, the direction we'd been
walking in, which meant the lone fighter out ahead of us had
been the one to die. I remembered thinking that that
was usually the way of it—but not under those particular
circumstances.
"Traixe, they couldn't have gotten behind him!" I pro-

98
Sharon Green
tested, definitely feeling confused. "They didn't come out of
the rooms until the other three and I had passed. And what
happened to that messenger? Did they cut him down, or is he
the reason reinforcements got here so fast?"
"My other fighters got here so fast because some of them
can actually think," he said with something of a headshake.
"They were called out when two bodies were found in a back
passage behind the kitchens, a passage that hadn't been used
for years. The two kitchen workers weren't the sort to disap-
pear without reason, so the kitchen master sent the others
around searching, and the bodies were found more by acci-
dent than design. When the unit leader of my fighters saw
them, his first thought was that they'd stumbled into some-
thing they shouldn't have seen and had been killed for it.
That thought led him into wondering what the something
could be, and then it came to him that the only thing different
about the house right now was that you had arrived. He sent
his unit off without worrying about looking foolish if he were
wrong, then came pelting over to my apartment. We both ran
all the way, but we were still too late."
"Not as far as I was concerned," I said, giving him my
own headshake. "But that still doesn't answer all of my
question. What about the messenger?"
"He's gone," Traixe growled, the sound of betrayal dis-
covered in the two short words. "He has to have been the one
who hit my fighter from behind, no one else would have had
the opportunity and position. Also, someone had to have
arranged to get that pack into the castle, and out again if
they'd pulled off whatever they were trying. Do you have
any idea how many years he's been in service with the Duke?
How deep does this Evon-forsaken thing go?"
"Deep enough, obviously, to have reached into the house-
hold," I said, as angry at that as Traixe was. "The one bright
point is that you now have someone to question when you
catch up to him. He couldn't have made it out of the castle
yet, could he?"
"Have you been away too long to remember how many
nooks and crevasses this castle has to hide in?" Traixe asked,
justifiably sour. "I get the feeling we'll be searching for
months without finding anything, but that doesn't mean we
won't bother. Let me have a couple of words with my men."

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER
99
He turned away to the fighters who were searching bodies
in an effort to see if they could learn anything, which gave
me the chance to look around for something to wipe my blade
on. After a moment 1 had to settle for the homespun of one of
my former attackers, and was just straightening up with my
sword as clean as it was likely to get until I was back in my
apartment, when my father arrived.
"By Evon, this is not to be tolerated!" came the sudden
roar, causing everyone to look up or turn around. "In my
very house, damn them! If this is the sort of war they want,
this is what they'll get! Traixe! I'll have you and your cap-
tains just after first light tomorrow! Right now my only
concern is for Sofaltis."
''She's unhurt, my lord," Traixe said at once, putting his
hand out in my direction. "See, as I said: it was her enemies
who came to harm."
My father turned his head to look at me, and relief light-
ened the burden from his shoulders. He was still as tall and
unbent as ever, his brown hair untouched by gray, still the
strong man in his prime who had never considered warmth
and love indications of weakness. When my aunt Illi had
become exasperated with me she would tell me how much
like my father I was, and I'd usually annoyed her more by
taking that as a compliment.
"I can see, Father, that you took Duke Verid's criticism to
heart," I said by way of greeting, sheathing my sword as I
walked toward him. "He was the one who claimed your
welcoming hospitality wasn't as exciting as his in the east,
wasn't he? If I ever meet him again, I can now tell him how
wrong he was."
"I can see, Daughter, that you haven't changed after all,"
he came back, a grin breaking through the disapproval he was
trying to show for my flippancy. "I would much rather have
seen Verid partaking of this—'exciting welcoming,' and then
I, too, would have found some amusement in it. Have you
gotten to be so excellent a Blade that you're now beyond a
proper greeting for your father?"
He held his arms out to me as I laughed, and then I was in
them, hugging as hard as I was being hugged. I would never
be beyond needing that sort of a greeting, and somehow my

100
Sharon Green
father seemed to know it. It had felt good to be home
before; now it was wonderful.
"Let's leave this mess for Traixe to see to," my father said
after a moment, loosening his hug but still keeping one arm
around me. "You and I have some things to discuss before
we join our guests in the feasting hall. Come with me."
Just because my father had taken over as my escort and
guide didn't mean Traixe was satisfied. We hadn't taken
three steps before there were sounds behind us on the carpet-
ing, sounds of following boots. The boots were filled with six
of Traixe's fighters, and rather than being annoyed my father
seemed grimly contented. I suppose that should have given
me a hint of some sort, but as it was I put it down to the scare
of a close call and forgot about it.
The door to my father's study stood open, apparently as
he'd left it when he'd come running out, but the two House
Guards were still at their posts to either side of it even though
they looked as if they wished they'd gone along. We left our
six shadows outside with the guards and father closed the
door on all of them, then he went to a silver tray and began
filling two silver cups from a crystal pitcher.
"I've been saving this wine for a long time," he said,
replacing the pitcher and turning to me with the cups and a
smile. "I must admit I was upset at first to learn that your
aunt had let you become a Blade, but now I mean to write her
at once and express my profound thanks. If not for that, I
might have saved this wine to no purpose at all."
"Really, Father, they weren't anywhere near good enough
to worry about," I assured him, taking one of the cups with
an answering smile. "If I hadn't been a Blade, they would
have gone down by tripping over their own feet."
"Of course they would," he said, his agreement more a
refusal to argue than a belief in what I'd said. "I bid you
welcome on your return home, Daughter, and ask Evon to
continue guarding you for the short while you remain in
danger. To alertness till then, and a speedy end to the need
for alertness."
He had raised his cup for the formal welcoming toast, with
me, of course, doing the same, and then we drank. The wine
really was excellent, but I couldn't help wondering about the
odd way he'd put the toast.

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER
101
"Are you trying to say you have a plan to finish off our
enemies, Father?" I asked once the cups were down, the
sudden inspiration making me eager. "Whatever it is, I hope
you know you'll have my blade to add to the showdown.
When do we get started with it?"
"Patience, child, patience," he said with a laugh, enjoying
what he saw in my face. "One day we'll have those shadow-
skulkers on their knees before us, all their crimes about to be
paid for. What we're doing now is only a stopgap, but one
that will give them a blank wall to raven against, a wall that
will have you safely behind it. Then they can plot and plan to
their hearts' content, and it won't do them any good."
"I have the feeling I'm missing something," I said slowly,
finding it impossible to follow him. "But I also have the
feeling I ought to tell you about the plan I came up with after
getting your letter. I was going to wait to see if the same
thought already occurred to you, but now I think it's better if
I mention it first. After what just happened, I don't want you
thinking you'll be taking advantage of me or putting me in
danger I'm not fully prepared to deal with."
I broke off then to take another swallow of wine, finding it
a lot harder talking about my plan than thinking of it had
been. My father looked at me with raised brows, just as he
always had when I'd been very young and trying to ask for
something he would probably consider inappropriate, and that
helped to make it worse. To the rest of the world I was a
grown woman and a Blade, but I had the definite impression
he still saw me as nothing more than his little girl.
"Father, now that Rymar is gone you have no heir," I
plunged in, turning from him to look around at the wood and
silk-draped walls of his study. There were weapons on those
walls, weapons that the Dukes of our family had used each in
his own day, and sight of them, I discovered, was also doing
more harm than good. "In times like these you need an heir
who's skilled with weapons, one who won't be put out of the
way as easily as Rymar was, one who will be of your blood
and make you proud of that blood. With all my brothers gone
or missing, there's only one person left who fits those qualifi-
cations. I'm asking you to name me your heir."
1 just had to turn back to look at him then, but there was no
change in the expression I'd turned away from, unless his

102
Sharon Green
brows had gone even higher. He almost seemed frozen in
shock, and then he suddenly began chuckling, as though at a
particularly good joke.
"Your sense of humor certainly hasn't changed, Sofaltis,"
he said, raising his cup to sip from it, even his eyes amused.
"For a moment there 1 thought you were serious."
"Father, I am serious," 1 said, trying very hard not to
show the abrupt and intense insult 1 was feeling. "How can
you think I'm not?"
"Girl, no one with any sense could seriously propose
something like that," he answered with a snort of lighter
amusement, gesturing aside the entire concept. "My Barons
and Counts would be up in arms so fast it would take our
breath away, and who could blame them? No sane man
would make a woman his heir, even if it weren't against the
strictest traditions we've always lived by. Women's heads are
too easily turned by pretty words and a handsome face, and
the fool who named a woman his heir would soon have a
common-born stranger in that place. And in this instance, it
would only serve to plunge you even more deeply into dan-
ger. No, child, under no circumstances will 1 name you my
heir."
"Father, that's unfair!" I protested, hearing the beginnings
of anger no matter how hard I fought against it. "I've met
enough men to know how I react to them, and I haven't seen
one yet who's been able to—'turn my head.' And I'm more
than willing to put on a demonstration of Blade skill to keep
your Counts and Barons prudently quiet, the sort that will let
them know I'm no stranger to war. As far as being plunged
more deeply into danger goes, that's utter nonsense. They're
already coming after me with what seems like everything they
have, so what more could they do?"
"By my calculations, quite a bit," he answered, turning
away to seat himself in a deep leather chair before bringing
his eyes back to me. "The one named my heir will be
targeted for assassination at all costs, and that one won't be
you even if you pout and throw a tantrum the way you used to
when you were small. Only a man can survive under some-
thing like that—and convince them to try their luck elsewhere
rather than here—and that's who my heir will be. A man."
"Really," I said, so flatly furious that his eyes narrowed

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER	103
just a little. "A man. Rather than a helpless, empty-headed
female. So which of my brothers have you located?"
"My agents have been able to find neither one of them,'*
he said with a headshake, something of an edge to his voice
in reaction to my less-than-docile attitude. 4'The key to my
current problem is my eldest daughter Sofaltis, who will not
dig her heels in and demand her own way. She will obey her
father as she's duty-bound to do, and evetything will continue
according to the very careful planning her elders have made.
Do you understand me, girl?"
4'Father, I haven't understood a thing since we first began
talking," I said, finding that the least incendiary answer I
could think of. "If you don't believe I'm good enough to be
your heir, why did you call me home?"
44If you weren't so set on having everything your own
way, you'd scarcely need to ask," he returned, leaning back
in complete comfort in his chair. 44You're a good number of
years beyond the time a girl of your station should properly
be settled, but that's worked out for the best. As soon as he
gets here, you'll be married to the man I've chosen as my
heir."
Pleased anticipation shouldn't have the ability to drop a
ceiling on your head, but that's what I felt my father's words
had done to me. I stood and stared at him in silence for a
moment before quickly draining the cup I held, and only then
did it come to me that I had nothing to worry about.
"For a minute there you had me going, Father," I said,
snorting my amusement the way he had done. "I'd almost
forgotten I'm of age, so I thought you were serious. You
can't complain about not having gotten back at me, because
you have."
I shook my head as I turned to the wine pitcher, wondering
if he'd been as shocked as I had felt. Hearing something like
that out of the blue is enough to rattle anyone, but I felt a
good deal better. Better, that is, until I turned back with my
cup refilled to find him grinning faintly and shaking his head.
"I'm afraid you've spent too long a time in the north, my
child," he said, sounding anything but afraid. "Here in the
south only men come of age, a tradition which is also sup-
ported by King's Law. As my daughter you're bound to obey
my wishes, and would be bound so even if you had just

104
Sharon Green
begun your true-tenth decade. Your betrothal to Lord Kylin
of the House of Torain, son of Trame, Duke of Arthil, has
already been registered at the King's court. Which means
you'll be married to him as soon as possible after he arrives
here and we've all met him. Now that you've been given
formal notice of the arrangements, you may consider yourself
bound by Law as well as tradition."
"Bound to marry someone even you haven't met," I said,
so furious it was all 1 could do to keep my hand from my hilt.
4 is that why you got me back here without telling me why
you wanted me so badly? To trap me with the Law in case I
wasn't loyal enough to the family to do things your way after
simply being asked? Am I too—female—for anyone to expect
rational cooperation from me?"
"No, no, girl, it isn't that at all," he said, finally disturbed
enough to put his cup aside and rise again. "Of course I was
prepared to ask and expect your cooperation, it's just that
your attitude made me feel this was the better approach. And
it's best, of course, if you understand you have no choice in
the matter—"
"Is that so?" I asked, stepping back from the arms he tried
to put around me. 44You think I have no choice in the matter?
Well, it so happens that if you'd asked rather than told me,
you would have been right. I would have had no choice but to
agree, but you didn't ask so I have a very definite option.
Call the King's Fighters and have me arrested."
This time I was the one who turned away to a chair to sit,
and when I looked back at him he was simply standing and
staring at me. He was wearing a very faint frown, as though
he were trying to figure out a puzzle, and finally he shook his
head.
"I don't understand," he protested, his tone showing he
was definitely not used to not understanding. 44What could
King's Fighters possibly have to do with any of this?"
4'They're the ones who enforce the King's Law, aren't
they?" I asked in turn, sipping at my wine while being very,
very reasonable. 4'Since I'm about to break one of the King's
Laws, you'll need them to arrest me. I don't care how many
times that betrothal was registered, I'm not marrying anyone.
Stuff that in your traditions and broil it."
My father had been a Duke for many years, running every-

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER
105
one and everything to suit what he considered right, but he
hadn't gone entirely without various kinds of opposition. He
had experience dealing with that opposition in all ways in-
cluding diplomacy, and that, despite the anger smoldering in
his eyes, is what he tried on me next.
"Sofaltis, a refusal like that would do nothing more than
bring ridicule down on our family name," he said, working
hard to "out-reason" me. "Your agreement to the marriage
isn't required, you know. The contracts already have my
signature, which leaves nothing but the formality of the cere-
mony to complete the legalities. Why make a fuss when you
really have no choice but to accede to my wishes?"
"Ah, yes, the formality of the ceremony," I drawled,
smiling at him over the rim of my cup. "The meaningless
formality during which a priest of Evon asks if the bride is
truly willing. Since I'm not willing and would not hesitate to
say so, I wonder what would become of that unimportant
little formality? Would a priest of Evon try pretending he
hadn't heard my refusal? Especially with my point to his
throat?"
I think it wasn't until right that moment that my father
actually understood what sort of female he was dealing with.
He seemed to be very used to the sort who trembled and wept
and tried desperately to refuse, but ended up obeying any-
way. I had never understood that sort of woman, no matter
how hard I'd tried; as long as you were willing to accept the
consequences of refusal, how could anyone force you away
from your chosen stand? With pain? With the threat of death?
If forced capitulation isn't the worst of pain, if death isn't
preferable to living life to the tune of someone else's flute,
then why bother protesting in the first place?
"So that's it," my father said softly, nodding his head as
he looked down at me. "I couldn't see it at first, but now I
do. You're using not having been 'asked' as an excuse. You
wouldn't have agreed to a marriage no matter how it was
presented to you, no matter how it made the family look.
You're not interested in responsibilities, only in rights, and
now that you're a Blade you think you can overlook duty
entirely. I'm very glad you weren't a son rather than a
daughter, Sofaltis. My sons may not have earned Blade sta-
tus, but I never had difficulty being proud of them."

106
Sharon Green
"Father, you're wrong!" I protested as he turned his back
and simply stood there drinking his wine, undoubtedly aware
of just how upset he'd made me. "I know the meaning of
duty as well as anyone! You're trying to force me into doing
things your way, into agreeing to something you have no
right . . ."
"No right?" he interrupted, turning back quickly to look
at me with the intensity of anger. "I do beg your pardon, my
lady, but those who are lowborn may not have the right.
Those who are nobly born have not only the right but also the
responsibility. The people of my lands may be unimportant to
others, but to me they're very precious and must have the
best I'm able to give them. My family and I are bowed to and
enabled to live well so that we, in turn, will watch over our
people and allow no harm to come to them. Now my people
are about to come to harm through my having no competent
heir for my place, and you tell me I have no right? Say rather
that I have no choice, and would not betray honor even if
another choice was possible. I do as I must, child, and so
shall you."
"Then what I must do is be sacrificed to your honor?" I
demanded, putting my cup aside so that I might stand and
face him. "How I feel about marriage isn't the point here.
What is the point is that I'm expected to give up every say in
my own life, just so that you and your people can all go your
merry way. What makes it my duty to do that, the accident of
my birth? What makes me less important than you and your
precious people? The fact that I'm not a male heir and
therefore expendable? It's your honor and your problem, so
go ahead and solve it yourself. If you want that Duke's son so
badly, go ahead and adopt him and then name him heir. That
way you can leave me the hell out of it."
I began to turn away, wanting nothing more than to go
back to my apartment, but suddenly my father's hand was on
my shoulder, holding me where I was.
"Sofaltis, the Law won't allow that," he said quietly, a
trace of compassion in his voice. "As long as I have a
daughter of marriageable age, that daughter must be married
to whomever I choose as my heir. In that way my own blood
can't be disinherited, our family line forced to die out. The
Law was meant for your benefit, girl, not to trap you into an

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER
107
unwanted match. Despite what I said, I know you won't
refuse to do your duty. I told Traixe your loyalty to our
family has never been in question, and you, yourself, will
prove me right. And now I think we've been closeted to-
gether long enough. We've a feasting and guests awaiting
us."
Rather than answering I simply pulled away from his hand,
strode to the door and threw it open, th£n headed back in the
direction of my apartment. I was so upset I barely noticed the
six fighters who scrambled after me, or the servants who
were trying to clean the blood out of the carpeting in the hall
where the attack had taken place. All I wanted was solitude,
and when I finally reached my bedchamber I slammed and
bolted the door, took off my swordbelt, then threw myself
face down across my bed.
"Damn him!" I whispered fiercely, my fists pulling at the
red silken cover I crushed under me. "Evon take him and
broil him to a turn!"
I was so miserably angry I would have torn the silk if I
could have, into small, tiny, insignificant pieces. Not the same
sort of insignificant as I was, however, because according to
my father I was very important as far as insignificant goes, i
had a duty to perform, and family obligations to complete,
and all that was being asked of me in return was to give up
everything 1 was.
I turned onto my back and stared up at the canopy above
my head, its dark gold color even darker in the dimness of
lamplight. I'd pretended to myself that my father would
welcome the idea of naming me his heir, but even when I'd
considered the possibility of his refusal I hadn't pictured him
laughing. And what he'd done to me after that—using his
ability in ruling people to twist me into agreeing with what he
wanted! He'd taken advantage of his own daughter for the
sake of people who were almost all strangers to him, people
he claimed he had a responsibility toward. Would a peasant
father have traded away a daughter just that easily, or was
concern like that reserved only for the nobility? My father
loved his people more than he did me, and I was supposed to
rejoice and join him in his sacrifice?
I put an arm over my eyes to block out vision of the world,
but inner pictures refused to stop forming. I probably would

108
Sharon Green
have agreed to the marriage if I'd been asked, but I hadn't
been asked, no more than any other female was asked. Did
anyone care that I didn't want to be married? That the very
thought of being trapped like that for the rest of my life made
me more afraid than I'd been just before my first battle? My
mother had been glowingly happy in her marriage, but only
because being married had brought her more freedom than
she'd had in her father's house. What marriage would bring
to me was the exact opposite, a slavery most fathers seemed
endlessly eager to consign their daughters to.
Well, I was one daughter who intended fighting those
chains! I dropped my arm and sat up on the bed, blinking
back the multi-colored circles in my vision. I hadn't pledged
myself to my father's demands, and no matter how tightly he
thought he had me caught up, I wasn't about to. If he forced
me to it I would refuse the vows, breaking both Law and
tradition where everyone could see it. Sooner than have that
happen he'd let me go, to return to the life I never should
have left. As a Blade I'd been happy, and no one had tried
forcing me into anything I wanted no part of. That's the life
I'd go back to, and then I'd be happy again.
I lay back on my pillows, calmed by the decision I'd made,
and tried to imagine what Rull and the others were doing
right then. . . .
* # *
Traixe knocked and entered the study, but Duke Rilfe
didn't look up immediately. The lord of the castle was seated
in a chair staring into the middle of nothingness, and a full
minute went by before he sighed deeply and stirred.
"She isn't in the feasting hall, and she isn't here," Traixe
observed, an odd reluctance to his words. "Does that mean it
went badly?"
"Badly would be too understated a word," the Duke re-
turned, looking up wearily. "She offered to be my heir,
Traixe, and I had to laugh at her."
"Had to, my lord?" the other man ventured, suddenly less
sure of himself. "The Law's rather plain on the point, isn't
it? Why would ..."
"Hang the Law!" Duke Rilfe snapped, clearly in no mood

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER
109
to be disagreed with or questioned. "Has a Duchess never
been widowed, and then found to be a more competent ruler
than her lord was? The Law might have been fought, and win
or lose I would have been honored to make the attempt for a
daughter like no other man has ever had—but not when the
effort would have meant the signing of her death warrant. I
had to hurt her, Traixe, and manipulate her, but once the
marriage is consummated and we carw drop the pretense,
she'll know I did it all for her sake. Her life is more precious
to me than my own, and this is the only way I can be sure of
preserving it."
"She agreed to the marriage, then?" the big Fighter asked,
his voice gentle out of concern for his lord. "She made no
attempt to refuse to obey you?"
"She invited me to call in King's Fighters to place her
under arrest for breaking the Law," the Duke returned with a
snort, not entirely in amusement. "She is still a hellion, and
young Kylin will have his hands full with her, but she's also
filled with that sense of duty all my children have been
blessed with. She may fight and scream and rage and threaten,
but she'll never go so far as to put her point to a priest of
Evon's throat in refusal."
"If that's so, I'll be sure to thank Evon," Traixe an-
swered, unable to keep his tone from going dry. "Since I'm
the priest of Evon who will be uniting them, I find the
assurance of more than passing interest."
"Traixe, you must stop worrying," the Duke said with a
grin as he stood, the dark mood having passed from him.
"You and 5 both know she'll be far happier once she's wed,
just like any other woman, even above the safety it will bring
to her. Right now I need your help in apologizing to my
guests for the absence of the object of the feasting. Shall we
say she's weary from her long journey, or shall we Find
another, more likely, excuse?"
"I think, my lord, we would do best using a padding of
the truth they all certainly know by now," Traixe answered,
returned to sobriety. "Your enemies were so desperate to
reach the girl they actually attacked her here in the castle, and
although she had no difficulty in defending herself, you've
insisted she keep to her apartments until a thorough search
might be made for signs of any further skullduggery. Your

no
Sharon Green
refusal to allow her to expose herself to another attempt
would be perfectly understandable."
"Yes, you're right as usual, Traixe," the Duke agreed
with a nod, rising from the chair. "And if it should happen
that one of them had a hand in this, it may well cause the son
of a night house crawler to squirm and worry about what the
investigation will turn up. Watch them closely during the
feasting, my friend, and we may learn a thing or two."
"1 mean to be more watchful than ever, my lord, till the
girl is past all danger," the other man agreed, beginning to
lead the way from the room. "May Evon grant that the wait
for the young lord be as short as possible."
"May Evon indeed grant that," the Duke agreed in turn,
and then set his thoughts to the matter of dealing with his
guests.

Chapter 5
Lord Kylin of Arthil, son of Duke Trame of Arthil, also
known as Kylin Difres, King's Fighter, sat his horse as it
moved along the road, wondering if his nerve would hold.
Just then they circled the city of Gensea on their way to the
castle of Duke Rilfe, and the nearer they got the more Kylin
wished he could simply turn around and ride away.
"Only a coward runs, but what's really wrong with being a
coward?" he muttered, keeping his eyes on the ever-shortening
road. "Cowards live long, happy lives, I'm told, and never
find themselves in danger of dying of mortification."
"Mortification don't hurt more'n a short while, Lord,"
Strangis said from behind and to his left, the chuckling clear
in his voice. "Ain't many who die from it, neither, 'cept
maybe a King's Fighter'r two."
"An' mebbe a Duke's son'r three," Frask added from the
same position to Kylin's right, also enjoying himself im-
mensely. "You know you ain't gonna run, Lord, so why you
been sayin' it for th' last half day?"
"It's possible I made a mistake leaving Jestrion back at
that inn," Kylin said, still in a mutter, still not looking at the
two fighters who rode somewhat behind him leading the
pack horses. "For some reason I feel naked without him, and
maybe even worse than naked."
"You was right leavin' 'im at the inn, Lord," Strangis
assured him, now clearly working on getting rid of his amuse-
ment. "You got 'im down so good it's like seein' two of 'im,
an' that could set folks to wonderin'. Them like Jestrion ain't
many, an' they don't take t'each other's company."
"They don't like the competition," Kylin muttered, then
111

112
Sharon Green
fell to brooding. Jestrion's sort was rare and unexplained, but
everyone seemed to know at least one like him: too delicately
horrified to enmesh themselves in anything that involved
sweat or strength or war skills, more flamboyant than any
female ever to have lived, ridiculously graceful and overly
talkative—and almost completely uninterested in the pastimes
indulged in by most human beings, it wasn't that Jestrion and
the others liked something better than women; they tended to
dislike everything with an equal intensity. Women were too
flighty and men too sweaty, and their own kind appealed to
them even less. It was Evon's way of making sure the
mistake was self-correcting, Kylin thought, but that didn't
explain why the mistake had to be made in the first place.
A mistake which he now had to mimic.
Kylin sighed deeply, trying to keep firmly in mind the fact
that he was protecting the life of the girl who would soon be
his wife. She would probably faint when she first laid eyes on
him, and not only because of the flouncing he would do. His
father had known how difficult—if not impossible—it would
be to disguise his size, so he had taken the road leading in the
opposite direction. Kylin's clothing emphasized his build, but
with so many flairs and folds and drapes that he seemed fat
rather than large. Fat and soft and flouncing, covered in
yellow and orange and pink and pale green, with red boots
and—Evon help us—a red swordbelt and new-seeming sword.
The sword, with hilt silvered and rewrapped in new red
leather, was really his own in disguise, but it looked so
out-of-place on him that no one would believe it was anything
more than decoration.
"And I've got to remember not to swear by Evon," he
muttered again, this time to himself. Jestrion rarely swore,
and then only by all the gods. It would be left to those around
Kylin to swear by Evon, and then the Fighter brightened with
a thought he hadn't had before: if any of Duke Rilfe's people
got upset enough to try attacking him, why, he'd just have to
defend himself, now wouldn't he? After that he could protect
the girl personally until they went through the ceremony—
betrothal allowed him that and more, if he wanted it—and
everything would work out just the way it was supposed to.
Why his father and Duke Rilfe hadn't thought of that he
didn't know, but since he'd already agreed to do it their way

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER
113
he'd have to see if he could push matters over into more
pleasant territory. Simply acting like Jestrion ought to be
enough, but just in case . . .
By the time the road Kylin and his "escort" rode joined
another coming out of the city and began to wind uphill, the dis-
guised King's Fighter was struggling not to chuckle. Using his
pose to shorten the length of time he needed to keep up that pose
appealed to his sense of humor, and* if just a few minutes
earlier he'd been reluctant to reach the castle, now he was
just short of being eager. He could see it easily from where
he rode, a gray and comfortable pile of stone very much like
the one he'd grown up in, so much like it, in fact, that he
wondered about its secret exits. And how many of the Duke's
household knew about those exits.
Being reminded about the problem into which he rode
sobered Kylin, and his eyes narrowed against the afternoon
sun as he looked all the way up to the castle's battlements.
Getting into a fortification like that was either a matter of
being allowed through the entrance tunnel or throwing an
army against its walls, but it had been decided by one of the
very first dukes that leaving it shouldn't always have to be a
matter of record. Although most people didn't know it, the
castles of the four Dukes each had their own private exits,
accessible from inside the castle but not from without. Nor-
mally the arrangement was private enough and safe enough,
but those days were far from normal. Once he'd been named
heir he'd have to speak to Duke Rilfe about it, to be sure
Arthil's safeguards were duplicated in Gensea.
Riding up to the castle's main gate was an experience in
itself, and Kylin realized it was a good thing he'd uncon-
sciously braced himself. The House Guard unit manning the
gate had started to lower their pikes in challenge, and then
most of them had stopped to stare and then to laugh and
point. Kylin ignored them with the sort of dismissiveness that
most people found extremely insulting, and when the unit
leader stepped forward, scowling rather than laughing, he
made very sure to continue the attitude.
"What'n hell is this, a Celebration Day dress-up parade?"
the sergeant barked, mostly to the object of his ire. "What
you doin' knockin' at our gates, boy? You sellin' somethin'
you think we're hard up enough to buy?"

114
Sharon Green
"Watch y'r mouth, Sergeant," Frask said from Kylin's
right, moving up to sit his horse beside the very obviously
bored young gentleman. The men behind the sergeant were
snickering, and Frask was coldly unamused by their reaction.
"This here's Lord Kylin, son o' Duke Trame of Arthil, come
to marry up with Duke Rilfe's girl. You wanna show us th'
way in?"
Kylin was prepared for almost any reaction—yells of rage,
snarls of disbelief, growls of insult and refusal, even gales of
laughter—but what actually did come surprised and confused
him. To a man the unit froze and stood staring, even the
crusty unit leader, and then the man closed his eyes and
covered them with a hand.
"I ain't gonna do it," the sergeant muttered, apparently to
himself, his voice faint but determined. "This time 1 ain't
gonna have nothin' t'do with it. Bithit—you take 'em to the
hall, then get y'r carcass back here. Move it!"
One man from the unit detached himself as the others
moved back and to the side, and then the man was trotting
through the entrance tunnel, left hand holding his sword still,
possibly trying to outdistance those who were supposed to be
following. Frask sent Kylin a startled glance, showing that
the fighter didn't understand what was happening any more
than his lord did, and then he moved ahead into the tunnel
First, leaving Kylin to follow with Strangis behind as third.
That Frask was uneasy was obvious, but the men of the gate
unit seemed too deep in their own thoughts to notice.
Frask's suspicions turned out to be groundless; the three
riders drew rein in front of large metal-bound doors without
anything untoward happening. Granted there had been plenty
of stares and goggling, and the Guardsman who had beaten
them there was still talking softly but animatedly to a serving
man just inside the doors, but there hadn't been anything in
the way of attack. Kylin couldn't help feeling the least bit
disappointed, but had to admit it was really too soon for his
plan to work.
Frask, having left the pack horses to Strangis, dismounted
as soon as they'd stopped and came to hold Kylin's bridle so
that his lord might also dismount. Kylin made a production
out of it, brushing his cloak aside and then swinging down
with careless grace—only to lose the grace at the last moment

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER	115
and be left with nothing but the careless. Frantic footwork
kept him from going flat on his back, but in the process his
swordbelt went askew and the scabbard nearly ended up
unmanning him. He grabbed for the stirrup leather and man-
aged to steady himself, at the same time silently thanking
Evon that it wasn't a war horse he rode. If he'd tried that
nonsense with his favorite mount Thunder Shadow, he would
have been lucky to get away without teeth marks in his hide.
With both feet firmly if somewhat heavily on the ground,
Kylin smoothed his clothing and swordbelt straight with short,
gentle movements, then turned toward the open doors as if
nothing had happened. Frask was looking down at the ground
with his jaw clamped tight, obviously having enjoyed Kylin's
effort and trying not to show it, but the fighter hadn't been
the only witness to the affair. Inside the doors were more
people than had been there the last time Kylin had looked,
and every one of them stared in frozen speechlessness.
"Is this Duchy so barbaric I need to ask for something to
soothe the dust from my throat?" Kylin plunged in at once
before he decided to think better of it, his normally deep
voice whiny and petulant. "I knew it would be like this, I
just knew it, but would Father listen? He certainly would not,
and now I've come all this way just to watch them
pretend to be statues, as though they'd never in their lives
seen a gentleman before. ..."
"Lord Kylin, please forgive us!" one of the statues said as
it came to life, a statue that hadn't yet reached the doors
before stopping. The man was obviously an upper servant of
some sort to judge by his clothing, and he spoke from a place
behind all the others who had magically appeared. Closest to
the threshold were the guardsman and the door servant, with
another servant and three boys who were probably there for
the horses behind those two. Directly behind the boys were
two maid servants with trays, pretty enough to make Kylin
groan inwardly at their expressions, and behind the girls was
the man who had spoken.
"Lord Kylin, your road cup and an assortment of tidbits
are right here," the upper servant went on in an instantly
soothing way, pushing the girls forward ahead of him. "Please
step into the hall in full welcome from Duke Rilfe, who will
be here personally to greet you in a moment. I am Sir Fonid,

116
Sharon Green
and would consider it an honor to have fetched whatever you
require."
The others in Kylin's path melted away to either side,
probably afraid of being run down as the important new
arrival sniffed disdainfully then lumbered forward through the
doors. There was an attempt at grace in the heavy gait, but
the results of the attempt were not pleasant to the eye. Kylin's
pretty red boots had small strips of wood in them, to keep
him from reverting to his natural walk. When he reached the
trays the girls held he took a goblet from one and a handful of
tiny sandwiches from the second, swallowed the sandwiches
fast before tasting the wine, then turned to the man who had
named himself Sir Fonid.
"A pity the Duke's master cook has taken ill," Kylin
remarked, dabbing delicately at his lips with a pale green
kerchief from his wide sleeve. "And do be sure to let me
know when your better wines have been brought up from the
cellars. 1 tend to enjoy unusual occasions such as those."
Sir Fonid's expression was a strictly held neutrality as he
bowed, but the shuffling and muttering to be heard elsewhere
in the hall gave Kylin a good deal of hope. There had to be
fighters somewhere in the house, and the sooner they got
there to hear what he had to say, the better it would be.
"You must be exhausted after your journey, Lord Kylin,"
Sir Fonid said when he'd straightened from his bow, still
wearing the neutral expression. "If you'll excuse me for a
moment I'll have a chair brought, and also make certain that
the Duke knows of your arrival."
He bowed again then escaped as fast as he could, some-
thing that would ordinarily have made Kylin laugh out loud.
He, himself, was the sort who would have preferred staying
to bait the unpleasant new arrival, but even a high servant
wasn't really in a position to do that. The man was retreating
in good order to await the arrival of stronger reinforcements,
and it wasn't possible to fault him for using such sound
tactics. The delicate new arrival therefore turned away from
the departing servant with a flick of his kerchief and a
put-upon sigh, then returned his attention to the tray of
"inferior" sandwich snacks. He hadn't eaten much when
they'd stopped at noon that day, but with his appetite back he
was ready to make up for it.

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER
117
Duke Rilfe knew he'd been difficult to keep up with on the
way to the main entrance hall, but Traixe's stride had matched
his every step of the way, the two of them ignoring the
fighters straggling behind. He couldn't credit the luck they'd
had so far, with Kylin showing up only a day behind Sofaltis,
but he knew it couldn't last. Tradition forced a three-day
celebration period on him before the ceremony could be held,
and those three days could well seem like three hundred if
there was trouble. If only he could lay hands on the one in his
household who was in Nimram's pay! There was no doubt
there was such a one, everything pointed that way, but they'd
all been with him for so many years! How could he let Traixe
ask questions the way he wanted to, with instruments of
persuasion that would—
The Duke stopped short just at the entrance to the hall,
startled at sight of the man who waited there. For a moment
he'd forgotten what Trame's son would look like, and very
briefly he prayed fervently that it was a disguise. The man was
just as large as the King's Fighter he remembered, but some-
how muscular size had been turned into mountainous flab,
commanding gestures had become over-graceful waves, and
the balance of a Fighter was nowhere to be seen. And those
clothes! In full daylight he must be blinding, and Duke Rilfe
couldn't help admiring the man's courage. There wasn't much
in the world that could have gotten him into clothes like that,
especially in the midst of strangers.
"Red boots to go with a red swordbelt," Traixe muttered,
glancing at the Duke with amused pain quickly hidden. "Shall
we go to greet your future heir?"
"And get it over with as fast as possible?" the Duke
murmured back, sharing the amusement before resettling his
expression into the scowl it was supposed to be. "I think it's
time we found out what in hell is going on here!"
The Duke's last words were spoken forcefully enough to
reach everyone in the hall, causing them to turn toward him
as he stalked forward. The servants faded quickly back out of
harm's way, but the nightmare in flowing Flower colors
tripped forward a few steps and then bowed.
"My dear Duke Rilfe, how good of you to finally find the
time to greet me personally," the man sniffed, the petulance

118
Sharon Green
in his tone bringing the Duke the definite urge to put a fist in
the other's face. "My father assured me I would be more
than welcome here, especially since I come to fulfill family
obligations. I really do believe I shall need to speak with him
when next he and I meet."
"Which, if Evon's luck should return, won't be that long
in coming," the Duke growled, glaring into blue-green eyes
that thankfully weren't entirely like the rest of the man.
"Your father was supposed to have sent a husband for my
daughter, and although he and I have had our differences of
late, I refuse to beHeve him dishonorable. He would have
kept to his word."
"And so he did," Kylin answered with another sniff,
brushing at his sleeves to fluff them. "As his son / fulfill the
word he gave, and he advised me not to allow you to be rude
and abrupt. As the betrothal has already been registered with
the King's court—something done by you, 1 believe—-1 must
be welcomed with full ceremony and hospitality. It is the Law."
"Laws need to be challenged every now and then to keep
them viable," the Duke snarled low, held where he stood
only by the presence of Traixe's hand tight around his arm.
That damned superior, smug smile on the fool's face—!
"You come with me right now! This conversation calls for
more private surroundings, where impertinent young men
might be—reasoned with. Traixe! Make sure he follows!"
Duke Rilfe turned away to stalk out of the hall again,
leaving a hard-eyed Traixe to see to the visitor. Kylin could
tell that the man who'd been put in charge of him was an
experienced Fighter, but neither he nor the fighters who now
followed the Duke out had gotten insulted enough to start
anything physical. With that in mind he thought fast, then
came up with something to add.
"If you think I'm going to give up the life of a Duke's
heir, you're quite mad," he called after the stiff, retreating
back, making sure he added a ridiculing simper. "Since my
father won't have me at home for some reason, this Duchy
promises my sole opportunity for living as a gentleman really
should. I won't ..."
"Ease up before he forgets you're playing a part, you
young idiot!" the man Traixe hissed at him in the lowest of
voices as he closed a hand around his arm. The Duke had

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER	119
nearly paused in his stomping exit, and Kylin realized Traixe
was right. Kylin's aim was to start a fight, but not with the
man whose heir he would be.
"Very well, I'll come, but I trust I've made my position
clear to everyone," Kylin said in supposed answer to what
Traixe had hissed, then let himself be manhandled out of the
hall. Kylin was pretending to be extremely put-upon, but
Traixe was feeling considerably better. The arm he'd closed
his hand on was larger and more muscularly hard than the
Duke's or his own, something that had been very cleverly
concealed by Kylin's gracefully garish clothing. It looked like
things really were going to work out well, the way plans as
complex as theirs rarely did. With Evon's help they were
almost out of the woods.
It didn't take long to reach the Duke's study and enter
behind him, the fighters having been left out in the hall with
the on-duty House Guards. The Duke seethed with hopefully
pretended rage and glared at Kylin while servants hurried
around setting out refreshments, leaving Kylin nothing to do
but look critically and unenthusiastically around at the mar-
velous chamber. His father had a study like that, with his
ancestors' weapons all around him, and Kylin had always felt
strengthened after visiting the place. The weapons repre-
sented the continuity of life as well as his family's responsi-
bility to stand themselves before any danger threatening those
who weren't similarly armed. Not every man could be a
fighter, but every man deserved the defense of his lord,
should the need arise. The people provided sustenance while
their lord provided safety, and—
"What in broiling hell is this?" a voice suddenly de-
manded from behind Kylin, causing him to turn around. With
the servants still there the door to the hall hadn't yet been
closed, and standing just inside the doorway with fists on hips
was the sort of girl Kylin hadn't been expecting. She was a
big girl but lithe and shapely, with long brown hair banded
around her brow above flashing gray eyes. Her black leath-
ers, swordbelt and silver medallion said she was a Blade,
which made the son of Arthil wonder who she could be. A
girl like that was enough to interest any man, and that despite
the fact that she was no more than pretty. Spirit had a more
lasting attraction than beauty with nothing behind it, but then

120
Sharon Green
Kylin remembered he was, for all intents and purposes, a
married man. Night house girls were one thing, not at all the
same as someone who seemed to be a member of Duke
Rilfe's household. . . .
"Sofaltis, what are you doing here?" Duke Rilfe demanded
in turn, almost sounding shaken. "I was going to send for
you later ..."
"Were you really," the girl interrupted with cold fury, her
eyes on a Kylin who suddenly wanted desperately to be rid of
the role he was still being forced to play. "Word travels
unbelievably fast around here, which means I heard about the
arrival of your newest guest without having to wait to be told
about it by you. Are you seriously trying to suggest that this
is a son of Duke Trame of Arthil?"
"Kylin of the House of Torain at your service, my lady,"
Kylin couldn't keep himself from saying with a bow, but to
his horror it also came out with a simper! "Do allow me to
say how honored I am to . . ."
He had begun to step forward automatically to reach for the
girl's hand, but was stopped in his tracks when that hand
went to the hilt hanging to her left. From the look in her
blazing gray eyes he knew she would draw on him if he came
one pace closer, and it never occurred to him that he'd almost
found the fight he'd been looking for. Going up against a
Blade wasn't a lark under any circumstances, and the last
thing he wanted to do was hurt the girl.
"Absolutely and immovably no," the girl said in a growl
to Duke Rilfe, the blaze in her eyes now meant for him.
"Never, under any circumstances, not even if Evon himself
appeared to demand it! Do you understand me? NO!"
With that the girl turned and stormed out of the study, the
fighters in the hall falling all over each other to get out of her
way. Kylin thought there were more fighters out there than
had been there when he'd arrived, but the servants being
hurried out of the chamber by Traixe kept him from certainty.
He turned away from the door being closed to see Duke Rilfe
standing with his head down and one hand over his eyes, but
didn't get the first hint about what had just happened until the
man Traixe came back from the door shaking his head.
"It has to be my fault," Traixe said, sounding old and
tired. "Everyone knows Evon dislikes having people count

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER	121
their victories before they're won. What are we going to
do?"
"What can we do but go on with it?" the Duke asked with
a sigh, sounding much like the other man as he uncovered his
eyes. "We'll have to think of something to tell her, some-
thing a lot more compelling than the truth would be. And
you. Did you have to talk to her, not to mention try to
approach her? Are you intent on getting yourself killed?"
This time the Duke was addressing Kylin, and since every-
one left in the chamber already knew what he really was,
there was no reason not to shrug and grin.
"Being too attracted to danger has always been a failing of
mine," he answered in his own voice, straightening up from
the slouch he'd been making himself stand in. "I know how
close I came just now, and 1 hope you'll excuse me for
considering the meeting worth it. Under the circumstances
it's terribly bad manners to ask this, but—who is she?"
Traixe chuckled as he recognized the look in the young
Fighter's eyes while he asked his question, and even Duke
Rilfe was forced to show a faint grin. As badly as everything
had suddenly gone, they hadn't dared hope for so excellent a
turn of events.
"So you want to know who she is," the Duke said abruptly,
no longer showing any amusement. "You come here to
marry my daughter, and the first thing you do is insult me,
then ask about a woman of my household. Is there to be no
end to such insolent and frivolous misdoings?"
"Oh, no, don't tell me!" Kylin said with a groan after
thinking for no more than seconds, suddenly wishing he were
back in the middle of a nice, calm war. "I can understand
your wanting to get even with me for what I said down in the
hail, my lord, but please don't tell me that was my future
wife! 1 don't think I could stand it—"
"He's really bright," Traixe said with more than chuck-
ling, clapping Kylin on the shoulder before moving toward
the refreshments the servants had laid out. "And I think he'll
be needing a drink."
"Bright but not terribly lucky," Duke Rilfe contributed
with his grin returned, but also with some measure of com-
passion. "You should have let me distract you into defending
yourself, Kylin, you would have had a few more unconcerned

122
Sharon Green
minutes that way. It was your misfortune to be too bright to
be lured into that, and also your misfortune to meet Sofaltis
before I could prepare the way. So you like the look of her,
do you?"
"Just now that doesn't seem to be the point," Kylin
answered, his broad face registering pain, his voice so hollow
the other two men nearly laughed. "I can't believe I actually
simpered at her. I'd stake my swordarm on the fact that she
doesn't know what we're up to, so the only question I have is
this: how quickly can we get her back to tell her?"
"We can't," the Duke said quietly, sympathizing deeply
with the young man who stared at him. To be less than a man
in the eyes of the woman who was his would be painful for
any man, but under circumstances like those—"I regret hav-
ing to say it, but we can't let Sofaltis know what we're doing,
if she happens to find out, it might well mean her life."
"The girl, as you may have noticed, is—headstrong,"
Traixe put in, coming forward with cups for Duke Rilfe and
Kylin. "If she finds out that one of the main purposes of the
marriage is her protection, she'll most likely rear back and
refuse.to go through with it."
"But she's already refused to go through with it," Kylin
objected, accepting the goblet of wine automatically. "Not
that I can really blame her, after what she thinks she saw.
Can't we tell her the truth about me at least, and then
convince her the marriage is for the protection of her father?
A man without an heir is a tempting target for anyone with an
interest in promoting chaos, and that should be close enough
to the truth to satisfy anyone."
"That would be a fine idea except for one thing," Duke
Rilfe said, glancing at Traixe where he now poured wine for
himself. "Sofaltis doesn't know who's behind our troubles,
but she's already found out the hard way who the primary
target is. There was an attempt made against her yesterday,
here under my very roof, which shows how desperate Nimram's
people were growing. Evon willing, your excellent perfor-
mance of a few minutes ago should convince them they have
little or nothing to worry about, but what will happen if the
truth leaks out before the ceremony is concluded?"
"And Sofaltis is—Sofaltis," Traixe added as he came
away from the board with cup in hand. "She's already an-

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER	123
nounced to three-quarters of the Duchy that she'll have noth-
ing to do with you. Let's assume we tell her the truth and she
eagerly agrees to go along with us; what do you think would
happen then? Either she would have to pretend to still be
furious, or she would have to find a reason for a change of
heart. Will she be good enough at either pretense to fool the
people who will be watching very, very closely? Can we
stake her life on there being not even .one small slip? If even
once she happened to smile at you—and someone saw it—the
game would be up."
Kylin stood silently and—in his own opinion—expression-
lessly, and didn't see the two men with him exchange a
raised-brow glance. He had no idea that his light, changeable
eyes had taken on the cold, hardened appearance they did
when the man who owned them was ready to end lives
without number. When Duke Rilfe had mentioned the attack
against his daughter, Kylin had experienced a surge of rage
stronger than any he could remember ever having felt. He
didn't know the girl who would become his wife, hadn't even
seen her until just a few moments ago, but that brief glimpse
had shown him someone he very much wanted to get to
know. That strangers, intruders, had tried to keep that from
happening, had tried to harm a girl like that—!
"Your daughter and I are officially betrothed, Duke Rilfe,"
Kylin said after the pause, bringing those eyes to the man he
addressed. "I'm sure you know as well as I do how much
latitude that allows me. I can't take her to my own apartments
until after the ceremony, but there's nothing to stop me from
moving into hers for the days before. And believe me—nothing
will get past me to reach her."
"For some odd reason, I have no doubts on that score,"
Duke Rilfe murmured, eyeing his heir-to-be over his cup rim.
The Duke was not a man who had ever had occasion to
question his personal courage, but he suddenly found himself
exceedingly pleased that he would never need to go through
the young man before him to reach a desired objective. He
had managed to choose even better than he'd known, and for
that he fervently thanked Evon the Shining.
"Kylin, I have no doubt that you would protect my daugh-
ter and your wife-to-be, but there's still something you don't
understand," Duke Rilfe said. "Sofaltis has always been

124
Sharon Green
independent, and high-spirited, and somewhat on the impul-
sive side, and right now she's distressed and upset. Consider-
ing that, it might be the least bit difficult convincing her to
agree to your proposal. What do you say, Traixe?"
"Since she's not my daughter, what I say can be said more
plainly," Traixe answered, his tone faintly on the hesitant
side despite the bluntness of his words. "The girl is stubborn,
hardheaded and wild, and she isn't upset; she's screaming
mad. If you tried moving in with her, it wouldn't be attack
from without that you'd have to worry about. And I can just
see her standing behind you if there was an attack. And what
about the traditional rivalry between Fighters and Blades?
Right now she's spoiling for a fight, and if she finds out what
you really are she'll probably jump in with both feet just for
the hell of it."
"Then what can I do?" Kylin demanded, frustration blaz-
ing from him like sunlight. "If I continue with the masquer-
ade, she'll think I'm a Flower; if I don't continue with it,
she'll be out for my blood. And what happens after the
ceremony, when she has to learn the truth? Am I supposed to
spend my wedding night defending myself from my bride? Or
were you planning on tying her up?"
"Say, that's not a bad idea," Traixe put in, considering it
rather more seriously than Kylin enjoyed seeing. "We'd first
have to work out a plan for sneaking up on her in large
enough numbers, but . . ."
"Traixe, stop tormenting him," Duke Rilfe ordered, find-
ing it prudent to hide his own amusement. "Kylin, the truth
of the matter is, we weren't expecting any difficulty at all
from Sofaltis. The manner she adopted the last time she was
home led us to believe she would do whatever she was told to
do, and we haven't yet recovered from learning of her Blade
status. I think frankness is called for here, so let me be frank:
my first concern is for my daughter's safety. Once that
ceremony is completed she'll be safe, but not until then.
Afterward, well, are you really all that worried about her
mood on your wedding night? If she orders you out of the bed
chamber, is there any possibility of your going?"
"Not really," Kylin admitted, grudging a relaxation from
the grimness he'd been showing. "I didn't get to see that
much of her, but I think I'm safe in believing I'm bigger than

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER	125
she is. And you're absolutely right, Duke Rilfe. Her safety is
our most important concern. After we're settled down we'll
work something out to suit both of us, which I expect will put
more interest in the marriage than I'd been anticipating. A
sweet, obedient wife adds very little spice to a man's life.''
"You do find an attraction in living dangerously, don't
you?" Traixe commented, the amusement in voice and eyes
dry. "I've always admired men who charge all alone into the
thick of battle, but I can't say I have a very high opinion of
their intelligence. Present company excepted, of course."
"Oh, of course," Kylin agreed with a grin while Duke
Rilfe chuckled, but the young Fighter's amusement didn't
stay with him. "Meanwhile I've got to continue being a
Flower," he said with a glum sigh, finally noticing the cup he
held to the extent of sipping from it. "My wife-to-be won't
care for that, but I want to get acquainted with her now. How
are we going to get her to hold still long enough for me to do
that?"
"A fair question, and one that merits discussion," Duke
Rilfe allowed, liking the young man more the longer he spoke
with him. "Since we also need to discuss other things as
well, let's sit down and see what we can come up with. As
soon as I was told of your arrival I ordered a Grand Feasting
for tonight, and despite my terrible disappointment I won't
sink so low as to cancel it. We have until then to plot our
plannings."
"During which time we will come up with something/'
Kylin declared, moving with the others toward the chairs. "I
consider it completely sufficient that the enemy intends hav-
ing my life; I'm not about to accept the same thing from the
woman who will be my wife—especially when she's most
likely better with a sword than they are."
"Definitely better," Traixe and Duke Rilfe said at the
same time, causing all three to laugh as they made themselves
comfortable, and then it was time to get down to serious
discussion.
I can't honestly say I was calm and tranquil when the
knock came at my reception room door, but i had managed to

126
Sharon Green
stop pacing and sit down. It was an excellent indication of
what my mood had been like, that the door didn't open after
the knock. Whoever was out there didn't seem inclined to
take any chances, or possibly my bodyguard felt it was
everyone else who needed their services more than I. At that
point I wouldn't have argued the contention, which might be
why I called out my permission to enter. The enemy wasn't
too likely to knock before coming in, but one never really
knows, and I had my hopes very high.
"I'm not sure 1 believe the lack of hostility in your voice,
but I'm coming in anyway," Traixe called through a very
small crack, then opened the door wider to step inside. "I'm
a man of unquestioned courage, and besides that I've had a
long, full life."
"Well, it looks like I was wrong," I said into his grin as
he closed the door again behind him while watching me
swallow at the brew in my cup. "Here I thought the enemy
wasn't too likely to knock, but that's just what happened."
"Please, Sofaltis, don't say that even jokingly," he asked,
actually wincing at the thrust. "No matter how it may look,
your father and I aren't your enemies."
"My Fist name is Soft and Gentle," I informed him,
looking at him over the toes of my boots. My feet were
crossed at the ankles and propped up on a very elegant, very
expensive table, and from the way he glanced down and then
quickly up, I was willing to bet that under other circum-
stances he would have commented. "If you expect to be
answered when you talk to me, don't call me Sofaltis. She's
someone else entirely, and has nothing to do with me."
"How much of that brew have you swallowed?" he de-
manded, apparently finding it impossible to stick to the apol-
ogetic tone he'd started with. "You're expected at the Grand
Feasting in a short while, and if you show up swacked your
father will probably have you taken out behind the stables and
taught the folly of overindulgence. He's in no mood to be
kind and understanding right now."
"Neither am I," I said with a shrug, deliberately taking
another swallow. "Pass that word along to whichever poor
soul my father gives that order to, and don't forget your
condolences. You won't have another chance to offer them."
"Damn it, I'd be the poor soul he gave that order to, and

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER
127
you know it!" he snapped, putting his fists on his hips as he
stepped forward just a little. "Do you expect me to believe
you'd draw on me? For any reason?"
"Do you know what they call men who depend on friend-
ship to keep them alive?" I asked, meeting the anger in his
eyes. "More often than not, they call them dead. I'd proba-
bly be sorry afterward, if it's any consolation to you."
"Probably sorry," he echoed, stilL angry but now in a
different way. "That's really very effective. If I didn't know
you so well, that deadly understatement would probably have
convinced me. And telling me to use your Fist name. That's
to make me forget who you really are, isn't it?"
"That was to remind you of who I am," I said, beginning
to get annoyed. "I'm the one with the sword and the pretty
silver medallion, not the one in the gown with the vacant
smile who says, 'Yes, Father, no Father, anything you like,
Father.' If you remember that, Traixe, I won't have anything
to be sorry about."
"So you think you can best me," he said, this time folding
his arms and smiling at me very faintly. "Are you absolutely
sure about that? No doubts, no hesitations, just convinced?"
"No doubt about it, you've got that deadly understatement
part down better than I do," I conceded, returning his very
faint smile. "As far as besting you goes, when is the outcome
of a private fight ever that sure? The only certain part is
something I am convinced about, because I know I'm good
enough: I can force you to the choice of your life or mine. Is
that unhesitant enough for you?"
"Evon broil it, girl, what are we arguing about?" he
demanded, his face suddenly drawn from the realization that I
wasn't joking—or bluffing. "Do you really think I would
face you with weapons? Or that any man of this household
would? How did we end up talking about killing?"
"That's what comes from associating with certain people
who shall remain nameless," I answered, not any happier
than he was. "If those certain people—or you—think I'm
going to chain myself to a Flower for any reason at all, you
and they are in for a rude awakening. I'm not being difficult,
I'm flatly refusing, so if you want to avoid conversations
about killing, forget about whatever you were sent here to
say. And go away so I can get drunk in peace."

128
Sharon Green
"Sofaltis, you aren't being betrayed," he said in a gentle
way, his eyes now reflecting hurt. "I didn't come here to tell
you what you don't want to hear, 1 came to say your father is
just as furious as you are. Would you rather sit here and
swallow brew until you pass out, or would you rather try
helping us to get out of this Evon-forsaken travesty of tradi-
tion and Law? We're going to fight to get out of it whether
you help or not, but your efforts might make all the difference."
"Efforts to do what?" I asked with a snort, completely
unimpressed with his sincerity. "Am I expected to challenge
him, or do I simply take him to bed and work him to death?
Always assuming, of course, that he'd know what to do in
bed, which I strongly doubt. Did you see the nerve of him?
He actually tried to touch me!"
4'He—ah—pointed out to us that by betrothal Law, he has
the right to do at least that," Traixe said, then waved his
hand to keep me from interrupting. "Stop foaming at the
mouth, the subject came up when your father tried to take
him to task for the very thing you just complained about. It
seems your—intended—is unexpectedly taken with you."
"I'll take him somewhere," I growled, pulling my feet
down from the table. "And I don't mind telling you what I
'intend' doing with him. I'll start with letting out just a little
blood, from his wrists, say, and then ..."
"And then you go on to guaranteeing that we all swing
with you," he interrupted flatly, stating rather than arguing.
"It was your father who registered the betrothal, which means
that we're legally responsible for seeing that the marriage
rites are performed—and also legally responsible if something
fatal happens to the groom because the bride doesn't care for
him. You'll swing for doing it, we'll swing for allowing it,
and only Duke Trame will have all his problems neatly solved."
"Then what do you expect me to do?" I demanded, slam-
ming my cup down on the table before getting to my feet.
"Are you suggesting I pretend to marry him, not seriously,
of course, only as a joke, and simply keep the pretense going
until he dies of old age or overeating? Do I look as though
I'm in the mood for any sort of joke? If you stop to think
about it, you'll realize I find considerably more appeal in the
thought of hanging."
"If you'll just listen to me for a minute, you might dis-

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER
129
cover none of us has to hang/' Traixe said, and if I hadn't
known better, I almost would have thought he was finding the
situation very funny. "We can't refuse to go through with a
registered betrothal, but if the groom changes his mind it
won't be our fault—or at least it had better not be. If you can
show him—honestly—what he can look forward to with you
as his wife, he just may decide the Duchy isn't worth it. But
just in case there's an inquiry later, everything you say and
do has to be strictly true, an accurate example of what you're
really like. No man could mind the real you, but Lord Kylin,
now, that might be another story."
Traixe finished up looking very innocent, but the gleam
in his eyes was anything but. I hadn't had so much brew it
was affecting me, but I still had the strangest feeling his
amusement had a source other than what he had proposed
against the Flower. Or an additional source. I couldn't think
of anything it could be, but that didn't mean I was willing to
ignore the suspicion.
"You said that overblown joke was 'taken' with me," I
finally tried, groping around to see if the suspicion had
flesh and bones. "Flowers, almost to a—you'll excuse the
expression—man, don't usually like women. Or real men. Or
other Flowers. What could there possibly be about me that
attracts it?"
"Your father and I were discussing that very point," Traixe
said, leaning down fast to take my cup of brew before I could
pick it up again, and then draining it. "Ah, I needed that,"
he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before
replacing the empty cup. "No matter how long I've been
with your father, I still don't feel comfortable drinking in his
presence. Not that he's ever discouraged it, you understand,
it's just something that I feel."
"Help yourself, then," I returned with a shrug, deliber-
ately folding my arms to show unconcern. "Plenty more
where that came from, especially if 1 insist."
"Soft and Gentle," he said, looking at me sourly. "1 think
Sweet and Reasonable would have been more fitting. Do you
mind if I sit down, or will that start you considering sacking
the castle?"
He sat down in the chair to the left of the one I'd been in
without waiting for an answer, which was very wise of him.

130
Sharon Green
At that point I was waiting for an answer of my own, and
wasn't about to be decoyed into discussing other things.
"All right, all right, the truth of the matter is—we're not
sure," he grudged, looking up at me where 1 still stood.
"Not only were we surprised at the way he reacted to the
sight of you, we were just short of shocked when he defended
what he'd done by insisting it was his right. The only thing
we could think of was that Duke Trame is his father, and that
might account for the difference. His brothers are certainly
lusty enough, so maybe the seeds are just dozing in him."
"You certainly know how to choose the proper words and
phrases to convince someone to go along with your plans," 1
observed, swallowing the urge to make a face in reaction.
"So all you want me to do is encourage it while discouraging
it. Also while being my own sweet self. Nothing to it. If I
can't use my sword, I'll use my boot dagger."
"You can't simply refuse to try," he said, holding down
annoyance. "What we want you to do is start out treating him
the way you did earlier, but let him talk to you and get to
know you. While he's being eager and what he considers
charming, you make sure he understands exactly what he's
getting in you. Let him get to know the Blade as well as the
woman."
"And if it decides it likes the Blade as well as the woman?"
I asked, still extremely unhappy with their brilliant ploy. "If
there's attraction involved there's always that possibility, but
I can tell you right now what my final answer is and will
continue to be: under no circumstances will I have anything
to do with a marriage ceremony, not for anything imaginable.
Have I made myself clear?"
"You have a talent for making yourself clear," Traixe
said, back to the sourness. "As long as you're willing to help
us try, though, your father will be satisfied. And since you've
been so generous as to share your thinking with me, I've
decided to do the same with what I've come up with. Your
father blames himself for what's happened, and although he
hasn't said anything aloud, I'm convinced he means to order
you to leave before the time of the ceremony if Lord Kylin
still insists on going through with it. 1 can't begin to tell you
how much trouble that will bring down on his head, but he'll
find it the better bargain over betraying his daughter into

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER
131
something that would destroy her. He loves you, you see, and
doesn't want to see you hurt. Do you want to freshen up a
little before we go to the Grand Feasting? We still have a few
minutes."
1 don't remember whether or not 1 nodded, but I did turn
toward my bedchamber and a minute later was closing the
door behind me. Traixe had accepted my departure without
comment, so it was possible he didn't know what his words
had done to me; for my own part, I felt the way I had that
time in battle, when someone had come at me from a direc-
tion I hadn't been expecting. Fd thought the blood Fd lost
had taught me not to let that happen again, not to let anyone
in any position get past my guard, but there 1 stood, bleeding
again without a single blade having touched me.
Once again only a single lamp was lit in my bedchamber,
and its feeble efforts weren't quite up to letting me see myself
clearly in my mirror. I put a hand to my face to convince my
mind that that was really me I saw, the young Blade with
brown hair, gray eyes—and the look of helpless devastation
covering everything else. I'd been so calm and in control, so
easy and assured over the decision I'd made—and now every
bit of that was gone.
Or almost every bit of it. I left the mirror to fall heavily
into a brocade chair, then cursed under my breath when my
sword hilt came back at me and jabbed at my side. There was
no sword slot in that chair, not when it was meant for a lady's
bedchamber, and that silly, unimportant little mishap sud-
denly blossomed into a major crisis. I leaned forward to put
my face in my hands, elbows resting on thighs, but the
situation was much too serious for tears.
Traixe was sure my father was going to order me to
dishonor him. Order me to it.
What in Evon's name was I going to do?
The dark behind my hands was very peaceful, but I wasn't
fooled into thinking it was real. There was no such thing as
peace, not that side of Home, and anyone who didn't under-
stand that was a mindless idiot. While my father was insisting
1 obey tradition and the Law, I'd had no trouble flatly refus-
ing; how was I supposed to continue with that when he was
ready to order me to his dishonoring? How could I do that to
him? And how could he do that to me?

132
Sharon Green
I sat back in the chair feeling the sharp edges of a shadow
weapon in my flesh, but although I could reach it easily I
couldn't draw it out of me again. If I'd turned around and
walked away as soon as that marriage nonsense was men-
tioned, everything would have been fine; now if I walked
away the blame would be my father's rather than mine, and
he would not be denying that blame. To keep from betraying
the daughter he loved, to keep from "destroying" her. How
destroyed could a woman get being married to a Flower?
"It would drive you crazy in no time flat," I growled, as
though in argument, but the contention wasn't too likely to
hold up. That's what night houses were for, after all, and
with a Flower named my father's heir, someone had to be
around to run the Duchy when its present Duke no longer
could. It wasn't much of a life to look forward to, but it was
better than the one a normal marriage would bring, constantly
disappointing though it would be. . . .
"Broil it!" I growled as I got to my feet again. I'd almost
had myself convinced, and the game wasn't even over yet!
There were all sorts of decisions yet to be made, and none of
them were the sort to be made without a lot of prior thought.
I didn't want to bring hurt to my father, but committing
myself to a lifetime of frustration just to save him from
discomfort or embarrassment wasn't what I considered an
equitable trade. Traixe's revelation had startled me and gotten
me upset, but Blade training helps you snap back from that
sort of thing in as short a time as possible. Nothing of a
lasting nature had to be decided right that minute, not even if
I had the sinking feeling 1 knew how I'd have to decide, so
the best thing to do would be to put it aside. I still had a
Grand Feasting to attend ahead of me—and a Flower to meet
and do my damnedest to discourage. I walked purposefully to
the door and pulled it open, and Traixe looked up when he
saw me, then got to his feet.
"That didn't take very long," he observed, inspecting me
in a casual way. "It might have been a good idea to wear that
gown 1 sent, just to push Lord Kylin off-balance, but at the
very least you ought to leave your sword here. My fighters
and I will be with you, and Lord Kylin might ..."
"No," I interrupted, flatly and finally, meeting his eyes to
show I meant it. "If you're afraid my being armed will be a

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER	133
temptation I can't resist, kindly grant me more self-control
than that. I'll talk to that Flower of yours, but right now
that's as far as I'm willing to go with it. Take it or leave it."
"Evon take it, you've got more stubbornness than the rest
of your family rolled together," he growled, some of my
frustration finding a home in him. "Have it your way then,
but don't expect it to be your way every time. The day will
come when someone makes you do things his way."
"Not without a sword, they won't," I came back, starting
for the reception room door. "And at least we know the
someone won't be the infamous Lord Kylin. It may be wear-
ing a sword, but if it tries to use it it'll be too busy with its
self-inflicted wounds to worry about anything else."
"Sofaltis, you're still looking for a fight instead of think-
ing about helping," Traixe protested as he hurried to follow
me to the door. "You've got to stop calling Lord Kylin an
'it.' "
I opened the door and walked outside without answering,
picking up my escort of fighters as I passed them. Traixe
sounded a growl of annoyance deep in his throat as he caught
up to me, but he didn't add anything. He must have thought
he was wasting his breath, but he certainly had no grounds
for complaint. After all, I'd warned him what would happen
if he called me Sofaltis.
The feasting hall was usually more than spacious, with
stone blocks, flagstones, and heavy wooden beams surround-
ing the long boards, tall, wide windows and broad fireplace,
but it didn't look the same that day. My father's colors of
silver and green on the woven hangings were nearly obscured
by all the people crossing back and forth in front of them, or
milling around in front of them, or hurrying past them. The
Counts and Barons guesting with my father were resplendent
in their finery, their wives were even more splendidly turned
out, the city people were almost their equal, and what seemed
like every servant in the household moved around them,
either with tidbit trays, pitchers, or piled-high platters for the
tables. My father's kitchens had to have been preparing for
days and days for that Grand Feasting, but his guests seemed
more interested in the conversations they were holding than in
what was being offered them.

134
Sharon Green
"It looks like the subject of the new arrival is making the
rounds," Traixe murmured from my left, his eyes moving
over the animated conversers. "I don't think I've ever seen
the lesser nobility so chummily close to the merchants and city
higher-ups before, but there's never been such complete agree-
ment between them before. I'd say they're discussing tradi-
tion and Law."
"I'd be happier if they were discussing assassination," I
murmured back, looking around the way he was. "That's
what's wrong with associating with the law-abiding."
Traixe's grunt was more noncommittal than agreeing, but I
wasn't really paying attention to him. My roving gaze had
found my father, who stood not far from the main board with
his special guest beside him—and no one else within speak-
ing range except for servants. The crowding of the rest of the
room didn't extend to their corner, something my father was
more than aware of, to judge by the tightness of his expres-
sion. The Flower, though, seemed blissfully ignorant of the
true state of affairs, and chattered on into his host's unrespon-
siveness while striking poses for the rest of the world to
chatter about.
"Well, what do you know,'1' I commented, leaving it to
Traixe to hear the very soft observation. "It's finally taken
off its cloak. I wonder if it's chilly now."
If Traixe heard me he didn't respond immediately, but the
observation was true. The Flower stood in nothing but flowing
trousers, long-sleeved tunic, swordbelt and boots. Red swordbelt
and red boots. I was about to say something about people's
appetites having to have been ruined after seeing something
like that, but Traixe spoke first.
"I think the Duke could use someone on his side right
now," he said, taking my arm. "Are you remembering what
you'll be doing with Lord Kylin?"
"I'm remembering what I'd like to do with Lord Kylin," I
answered, unhooking my arm from his gentle grip without
looking at him. "If at any time that doesn't suit you, just let
me know and I'll be glad to leave. Unless and until that
happens, just remember the role played by the general strate-
gist once the battle is in full swing. You've appointed me to
the position of field commander, and that's what I intend
being."

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER
135
With that I simply walked away from him, and I didn't
have to look back to know how he was reacting to what I'd
said. Traixe had never been one to stand with arms folded,
watching while others fought, but that's what he'd be doing
then, or he and my father could do their fighting without me.
I didn't like any part of what was happening, and I couldn't
help thinking that if I had any sense at all I'd walk out of
there and leave them all to play theirlittle games together.
Making my way across the floor proved not difficult at all,
even though half the people there seemed to want to ask me
my opinion of what was going on, or give me the details of
theirs. Each in turn would start to approach me with a smile,
suddenly notice the expression I wore and the way my left
hand rested on my hilt, and then they would step back into
their former places in the crowd. Since by then they knew
exactly how I felt about the entire situation and no longer had
the need to ask, I was able to get where I was going quickly
and directly. My father looked up when he saw me approach-
ing, which made the—man—with him turn around and imme-
diately fix me with a light-eyed stare.
"Ah, Lady Sofaltis, how delightful to see you again," he
said with what was almost a giggle, bowing grandly in my
direction. "The moments since our last meeting have seemed
like ages."
"That's odd," I said, stopping about three feet in front of
him. "To me they seemed exactly like moments."
And then I fell silent and just stood waiting. If he was all
that taken with me, he could carry the conversational burden,
at least for a while. And possibly during that time he would
learn not to make inane comments. He stood there looking
down at me, expecting me to add to what I'd said, but after
some more of those moments he'd mentioned he finally
realized there weren't going to be any additions. At that point
he stopped looking expectant and cleared his throat.
"Yes, indeed, just like moments," he offered, working to
get his smile back in place. "How delightfully clever of you
to phrase it exactly that way. The gentlemen of your ac-
quaintance must find you a most stimulating partner for
conversation."
"Oh, my, yes," I agreed, flashing him the most suggestive
grin I could come up with. "If there's one thing the gentle-

136
Sharon Green
men of my acquaintance have always said about me, it's that
I'm a stimulating partner. I'm so glad you agree."
"Uh, yes, most certainly I agree," he mumbled, actually
backing a step as though I'd advanced on him. His expression
had turned peculiar as well, and suddenly I knew I'd stum-
bled on exactly the right line of pursuit. Our Lord Flower
disliked references to intimate relations, and that meant he'd
named the subject we'd be talking about most.
"f think it's time we began the Feasting," my father said
to no one in particular while signaling to a servant with a
gong who stood at the wall behind the main board. "Kindly
follow me to our places at table."
"Allow me to escort you, my lady," the Flower said,
coming out of whatever had been bothering him fast enough
to step forward with his arm out. The servant was stroking
the gong and my father was already moving toward the
board, and the conversation in the room was beginning to fall
off as people started heading for their own boards. With
Traixe still behind me I should have been trapped into taking
the Flower's arm, but sometimes ignorance or innocence can
get you out of a trap faster than intelligence and experience.
"Oh, that's all right, I know the way," 1 answered with a
small laugh, as though he were being silly and amusing,
ignoring the arm being held out to me. "It's only a few steps,
so why would I need an escort?"
I turned alone and moved after my father, leaving the
Flower with his arm out and a confused look in his eyes. It
was then up to Traixe whether or not he wanted to take the
arm, but a quick glance back showed he didn't. As I moved
along the board to its center, I decided that that was too bad;
at the very least it would have given my father's guests an
additional topic of conversation.
My father took his place in the Great Chair at the center of
the board, and I almost walked past him before it came to me
that the chair to his immediate right was mine. The last time
I'd been there my brother Endrin had had the place, with
Rymar to his right. The chair to my father's left was always
kept empty, a tribute to my mother, and to the left of that was
where I'd usually sat with Traixe beside me. If my sisters had
been older they were the ones who would have been to my
left, but they had been too young to be brought to Feastings.

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER
137
They were still too young, which made the number of our
family members at that board distressingly few.
"Allow me, my lady," the Flower said, helping me with
the chair as I began to seat myself. He certainly was fast at
overcoming surprise, not to mention persistent, and his smile
suggested he was being generous with something that was
really his. As my father's oldest child the place to his right
was mine, but only until I married. After that my husband
would be my father's heir, and the place would be taken by
him. The Flower's smile said that it would be silly to take a
stand on betrothal rights—which he could have done—when
the matter would be settled permanently in so short a time,
and simply lowered himself into the chair beside me without
a murmur. I decided it was a good thing my father hadn't
adopted the use of giass tableware like certain of those of
high position in the north, and sat back to try recapturing the
hold I'd had on my temper.
When everyone in the hall was finally seated, Traixe rose
from his place in my old chair and asked Evon's blessing for
all those attending the Feasting, as well as a special blessing
for those the Feasting honored. That, of course, meant dear
Lord Kylin and me, and officially began the three days of
celebration traditional before the wedding ceremony. 1 could
feel the Flower's eyes on me and sensed his deep satisfaction,
two reactions I still found impossible to understand. When he
said "my lady" I kept getting the feeling he meant "my
lady," and that brought me the sensation of corners closing
in. I had to find out what his specific interest was, and then
do my damnedest to kill it.
Traixe's invocation was as short and to the point as ever,
and then the balance of the food began coming. Fried and
stewed meats and fish, chicken of every possible description,
breaded boar and edged venison, vegetables and breads and
cheeses and greens. Four different kinds of soup with sixteen
varieties of trimmings and dunk-ins, and with it all the wine
and brew flowed like an unending waterfall. No one alive
could have found fault with the Feast offering, and that seemed
to lighten my father's mood to the point where he began
talking to Traixe over the empty chair between them. That,
unfortunately, left only a single someone for me to talk to, a
circumstance which the someone was quick to take advantage of.

138
Sharon Green
"I must admit this is most likely the finest Feasting I have
ever attended/' my lord Flower allowed graciously, holding
his cup out so that it might be refilled from the wine pitcher
of a hovering servant. "May I inquire, my lady, as to which
of these dishes is your favorite?"
"I think I would have to say the boar," 1 told him, holding
my own cup out to a servant with brew. "I've always found a
great attraction in roasting boars."
He was sipping at his wine when I said that, and if he'd
been swallowing at it instead he probably would have choked.
As it was he was reduced to coughing for a moment, and
when he raised his head 1 was surprised to see that what had
started the fit was laughter.
"Clearly I'll need to be more cautious in future," he said,
lowering his head again to give one last cough into his hand.
"The dangers of so excellent a wine, a misswallow in
overeagerness—I do hope you'll forgive me."
The gaze that came back to me was sober again, just as
though the laughter had never been, and that gave me another
puzzle to worry at. If he thought what I'd said was funny,
why would he pretend instead that he'd swallowed wrong? It
didn't make any more sense than the rest of it, and I decided
it was time to ask a few questions of my own.
"Whyever would you care about my forgiveness?" I came
back, for the first time looking straight at him. "You can't
possibly believe I'm here of my own free will, so what
difference does it make how I feel?"
"My dear lady Sofaltis, in a matter of days you will be my
wife," he returned, the protest absolutely prim and proper,
but with the shadow of something else behind it. "How could
I not be concerned with your feelings? I look forward to the
time with an eagerness I would have you share, and find
myself distressed that I seem unable to accomplish that objec-
tive. Am I so loathsome to you, that you cannot even accept
my concern?"
Yes, I wanted to say, absolutely and inarguably yes, but
with those light, innocent, vulnerable eyes on me I just
couldn't do it. He might have been a Flower, but apparently
even Flowers had feelings.
"You still haven't really said why you would feel con-
cern," 1 compromised, ignoring the subject I didn't care to

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER	139
get into. "All nonsense about marriage aside, you don't
know me and don't need to know me, something that would
please any other member of your—persuasion. Why this
sudden and unexpected push for the attention of the fly
caught in the middle of the web?"
"I, myself, find my reactions somewhat surprising," he
said, somehow making me think he was trying to look sur-
prised. "Despite my father's many and varied attempts at
interesting me in the fair sex, I've never before discovered
a woman worthy of my sincere interest. Now, however, that
seems to have changed, and I am smitten with the woman
who will be my wife. Happily, happily smitten."
He beamed at me then, to show just how happily, I sup-
pose, and I felt the need to check on the quality of the brew
my cup had been refilled with. Even he didn't know what he
found so attractive about me, which meant I had almost no
chance of countering that attraction. But I had to counter it,
or my future would be as black as my leathers.
"And so, my lady, 1 shall not allow you to speak of
yourself as 'a fly caught in the middle of a web,' " he went
on, and I looked at him again to see the ridiculously stern
expression he was now bending on me. "You are the woman
who has been pledged to me in marriage, and I mean to
dedicate myself to your happiness."
"Do you really," I said, suddenly annoyed that a Flower
would even consider "not allowing" a Blade to do some-
thing. "I feel a great admiration for those who are dedicated,
and I'm wondering how you intend proceeding with your
intentions. What if 1 don't want to be happy?"
"Then I shall certainly take great delight in making you
unhappy," he said soberly, then raised a hand to titter behind
it. "Meaning, of course, that if being unhappy will make you
happy, then I shall see to the matter that way. As I told you, I
am completely dedicated."
"Completely dedicated," I echoed in a mutter, staring
balefully at his scatterbrained amusement. "There was a
free-worker in a night house I used to frequent who told me
that once, but it turned out he was misphrasing. What he
should have said was that he was completely inadequate to
the task at hand."
1 expected the Flower to continue assuring me how capable

140
Sharon Green
he was, but instead his smile went vacant even as his expres-
sion brightened, and suddenly he found a renewed appetite
for what was on the platter in front of him. At first I couldn't
understand so odd a reaction, and then I remembered it
wasn't the first time he'd reacted that way. I was desperate
enough to try anything to discourage him, and that sort of
anything wasn't difficult at all.
"Yes, I've found there are both benefits and drawbacks for
women who use night houses," I commented, as though
unaware of his new preoccupation with food. "One of the
benefits, of course, is the constant variety, but strangely
enough that's also one of the drawbacks. You look for the
workers who really have learned to do it right, but in order to
find them you have to go through a large number of gropers.
Then, after you've made the effort and have learned who
your favorites are, the word somehow gets around to the
other female Blades and you walk in to find all your favorites
already claimed for the night. Sometimes it's downright
discouraging."
"You must have had quite a lot of adventures as a Blade,"
he responded, still paying an inordinate amount of attention
to eating. "Fighting in battle is quite horrendous, I'm sure,
and I can't imagine how you keep from being frightened. If it
were I, I would be quite beside myself."
"Anyone who isn't frightened in battle isn't safe to fight
beside," I said, silently congratulating him for managing to
get three "quites" into his little speech. It was one more than
the messenger who had led me into the trap had gotten, but it
still wasn't enough to distract me from my original topic—as
he seemed to have been trying to do.
"The fool who isn't afraid has no real interest in staying
alive," I said after pausing to swallow at my brew. "Fighters
with sense let their fears protect them, but once the battle is
over you have to cope with relief reactions. Sometimes that
means nothing more than uncontrollable shaking, but once
you've been a Blade for a while it most often comes out as
outrageous silliness. I remember one time when battle's end
left my Fist not far from a stream, and even though it had
already begun turning really cold, four of us stripped and
jumped into the water. We might have been laughing on our
way in, but once we hit the icy-coldness there wasn't any-

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER
141
thing to be heard but howls. Then Foist blundered into me,
and immediately decided he knew how to warm up even in
that liquid ice. He pulled me close and began running his
hands over me, trying to make it possible, you see, but he
was so cold that even touching me didn't—"
I broke off my story and just sat there with brows raised
high, pretending to be surprised when Lord Flower hastily
excused himself, surged to his feet, th^n hurried away from
the board. Once he was gone 1 sat back in my chair with a
satisfied inner smile, wondering just how far I'd be able to
take that tactic. I didn't know if it would be enough to send
him running even from a ceremony he was "eagerly looking
forward to," but a little more experimentation ought to give
me the answer.
"Sofaltis, what have you done?" my father asked sud-
denly, just as though he didn't approve. Traixe had left his
place to hurry after our guest in distress, which meant I'd
have to question him later. Whatever he found out was bound
to be a help for our side.
"I'm terribly sorry, Father," I answered, looking at him
with sorrowful sincerity. "I seem to have distressed Lord
Kylin with something 1 said. Wouldn't it be awful if he
decided he didn't want to marry me after all?"
My father's expression went through rapid change as I
drained my cup of the brew it held, but he had it under
control again as I got to my feet and bowed my request to be
excused. He had seemed to be anxious to question me, but
knew as well as I that that wasn't the place for it. In a way I
was glad not to need to stay through an explanation; the hall
had grown very close despite the opening of the window-
doors leading to the battlements, and I needed a short stroll in
the cool night air I could see beyond the lamplight. By the
time I got back Lord Flower might be ready for another
treatment, which meant I was actually looking forward to
seeing him again. I nodded pleasantly to the circulating guests,
and just kept going until 1 was through the doors.
* * *
Traixe hurried out after the young man who had left the
hall right before him, but he didn't manage to catch up until

142
Sharon Green
they had put two long corridors between themselves and the
feasters. When Lord Kylin opened his mouth to speak Traixe
quickly gestured him to silence, then led the way to a door
not far from where they'd been. Inside was the small chamber
Traixe used when he needed to speak to one of his fighters in
his capacity as a priest of Evon, and once a lamp was lit and
the door closed behind him, the older Fighter turned to the
younger.
"All right, now we can speak as we please," he said to
Lord Kylin, studying the younger man's agitation. "I hope
you're, not going to tell me she's actually managed to find
something to make you change your mind."
"That sounded like a really excellent plan to keep her
occupied when we decided on it," Kylin answered, running a
big hand through his streaky blond-brown hair. "1 particu-
larly liked it because it meant I would have the chance to get to
know her, but I'm afraid she's picked up on something that's
going to give me trouble."
Kylin's expression of discomforted near-embarrassment was
familiar enough to Traixe to keep him silent but encouraging
while he gestured to one of the comfortable chairs the chamber
held. Kylin barely hesitated before going over to drop into it,
then waited for Traixe to do the same before gesturing vaguely.
"You have to stop to remember how many weeks I've
been practicing and living this part," the younger man said in
an effort to explain what was bothering him. "If I'd taken
time out for relief on the way and someone found out about
it, it could have ruined everything, so I didn't. I haven't often
gone that long without a woman before, but there were other
things to distract me and 1 knew it wouldn't be forever. Then
I got here and met Sofaltis instead of the pale, frightened
little thing I'd been expecting, and suddenly everything
changed. For an entire hour before the Feasting, my mind
refused to think about anything but what our wedding night
would be like."
Traixe nodded sympathetically, understanding what the other
man meant. The girl wasn't an eye-stopping beauty, but when
she walked into a room she tended to draw attention. To keep
from thinking about bedding her would be difficult for any
normal man; for the man who had come to take her to wife, it
would have to be three times worse.

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER
143
"When she first came up to me in the feasting hall, I was
delighted to see her again," Kylin went on, now looking
down at his knees, "I expected to have a very pleasant time
talking to her and getting to know her, but I made the mistake
of giving her a chance to pass a suggestive comment. It was
nothing, really, no more than a remark about her being a
stimulating partner, but suddenly I was on fire! For an instant
1 was terrified that she'd touch me; if. she had, I probably
would have had her then and there! It took me a broiling long
time to get enough control back to talk to her again, but I was
sure I'd kept everyone from noticing the struggle. Well, no
one did notice—except for her."
"Are you sure?" Traixe asked, faintly worried now. "We
can all insist we don't know why you're interested in her and
that will keep her from having anything to get suspicious
over, but that's not the same as being hot for her. Most
Flowers don't even get mildly warm, which is what makes
them Flowers in the first place."
"It's possible she doesn't know about the hot part, but
she's definitely settled in the wrong district," Kylin an-
swered, meeting the other man's eyes as he rubbed at his
face. "She mentioned something about her experiences in
night houses, and when I tried to change the subject to battle
she used that to go right back to what was making me wonder
how easily leather tears. When she spoke about her Fistmate
running his hands over her body and I found myself deciding
that rape would be a good hobby to take up, I knew I had to
get out of there for a while. I don't know if she knows what
it's doing to me, but she's definitely doing it on purpose."
"We should have expected it from the little hellion,"
Traixe muttered, definitely unhappy. "A proper lady would
avoid topics like that, but she finds it amusing to constantly
remind everyone that she's more Blade than lady. If you take
my advice, the first thing you'll get yourself after the cere-
mony is a good, heavy strap. She's been needing one across
the backside ever since she first learned to walk and talk. If
you don't, it's not beyond her to make your life a living
hell."
"I think we first have to concentrate on getting her through
the ceremony," Kylin said with a concealed grin for the
sourness in Traixe's expression. "Once I'm her husband I

144
Sharon Green
can use my own ways of turning her reasonable, then fall
back on yours if mine don't work. Is there any sign of how
distant or close 1 am to the possibility of being left at the dais
without a bride?"
"I think I may have good news there, at least," Traixe
said as he brightened and shifted in his chair. "The Duke was
right in his opinion of the girl's sense of duty and honor.
When 1 told her the Duke was prepared to take all the
dishonor of disavowing the match on his own shoulders, you
should have seen her face. She came out of it fast enough to
continue insisting she would not go through with it, but I
think she will. She isn't capable of putting her own welfare
and desires before those of her father and family."
"She said something about being caught like a fly in a
web," Kylin offered, an agreement that rid him of all amuse-
ment. "I don't want her feeling like that, Traixe, not even for
the short time left before the ceremony. She's my woman
now, and 1 don't want her feeling pain because of me. We've
got to think of a way to tell her the truth."
"Even though the truth is most likely to bring her actual
harm?" Traixe asked calmly, resisting the urge to react to the
look in the light eyes burning at him. "If she finds out about
the deception now, you know she's bright enough to realize
that everything we've said and done was for the purpose of
tricking her into the marriage. It won't matter that that wasn't
our original purpose, it will be the only one she's able to see.
And what do you suppose she'll do right after that?"
"At the very least, turn around, walk away, and never look
back," Kylin sighed, leaning back in his chair in defeat.
"Giving Nimram's garbage every chance to reach her. I
know that's what would happen, I know it, but maybe there's
a way of avoiding it. I gave her a chance to slam hard at the
character who's being forced down her throat, Traixe, and
she refused to take it! If she was a backstabber she would
have taken it, but she simply let it pass. How can 1 go on
backstabbing her?"
"You're learning to like her well enough to want her to
know and like you," Traixe said, the soft words full of the
sympathy he felt. "Your reactions are natural, Lord Kylin,
but this isn't the time for them. What you must remember is
that she'll refuse to marry you if she learns the truth, even

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER
145
though the marriage is the best thing for her. All questions of
safety aside, she needs to be married, just like any other
woman, and to a man strong enough to give her a good life.
Do you want to drive her instead to a man who doesn't care
for her as much as you do?"
Kylin knew his silence was answer enough, and that Traixe
would take it just that way. His fingers drummed on the arms
of his chair, the only outward sign of his inner struggle, the
fight to control his temper at the suggestion made. He'd only
met his future wife that very day, had spoken to her for what
amounted to no more than minutes, and he wasn't an inexpe-
rienced child to indulge in infatuation or fall immediately in
love with the first female who allowed him in touching
distance. He was a man and a King's Fighter, damn it, but
the thought of any other man taking that particular woman
away from him filled him so full of rage he was ready to
explode with it. She was his and was going to stay his, no
matter what he had to do. . . .
"I think we're going to have to figure out a way of getting
you a woman tonight," Traixe said, breaking into Kylin's
thoughts. "We might have to end up blindfolding her, but at
least your problem will be seen to. I'll speak to the Duke
immediately after the Feasting."
Kylin nodded in distraction as he and Traixe rose to their
feet, then followed Evon's priest to the door. There was too
much depending on Kylin for him to refuse the suggestion
even if for some odd reason he wanted to, but the King's
Fighter found himself privately wondering just how much good
another woman would do him. It was Sofaltis. he wanted, his
bride-to-be who would grin and dare him to impress her, the
soft and rounded Sword who would give as good as she got.
But it would be another three days before he could have her,
another three endless, interminable, eternal, hellishly long,
minute-dragging, frustration-filled . . .
The night air was wonderful, especially out-there in the
dark all alone, especially over that part of the lower battle-
ments. It was still too early for any night-guards to have been
posted, so I had all the shadows to myself. I wandered around

146
Sharon Green
for a while, remembering the fun I'd had there as a child,
pretending I was grown up and defending the castle from
invaders. Now I was grown, and actually involved in defense
of the Duchy, but it wasn't turning out to be the fun I'd
thought it would be. My mind kept demanding what I would
do if I couldn't chase the Flower away on a permanent basis,
and I couldn't find an answer to that. I didn't know what I
would do, but the decision would be one to make trouble no
matter what it turned out to be.
I sighed without sound and stroked the stone I stood be-
side, wishing that was the side of the castle that faced the
city, wishing I could take the time to circle the battlements
until I could see the city. I hadn't been out there all that long,
but it was time 1 got back before Traixe sent my bodyguard
after me. I would have had them to begin with if Traixe had
been around to see me go, and I didn't want them stomping
around, ruining my pleasant memories of that place. Better to
get back before they were sent, and be grateful my father
hadn't thought of it.
I patted the stone one last time and began to turn away, and
that's when the arm whipped around my throat and the hand
pressed a wet cloth hard over my nose and mouth. I immedi-
ately began to struggle against the strength in those arms,
instantly realized I was wasting my time, then reached for the
dagger in my right boot as fast as I could. I'd already gotten a
breath of whatever was on that cloth, and although I'd halted
my breathing after that, I could feel the dizziness and lethargy
crawling over me. Raising my boot to where my fingers
could reach it wasn't easy, not with the fist curled into the
chain of my medallion to give my attacker a better grip on
me, but after what seemed like an hour my hand closed
around the dagger hilt. I jerked it free, reversed it, then
stabbed backward.
There was no scream from the one who held me, but he
convulsed so hard from the stroke that the chain in his fist
snapped, and then he was sliding down to the stone we stood
on. I tore the cloth free of my face with my left hand and
began gulping in the air my lungs were shrieking for, but
rather than clearing the muzziness from my head, the air
seemed to make it worse. It was pitch dark there on the
battlements, so dark I couldn't even see who it was who had

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER
147
attacked me, but the more I breathed in and out, the more an
odd grayness spread on the black. I suddenly discovered I
was down on hands and knees, the stone under me nearly
unfelt, and then somehow the cloth was back over my nose
and mouth, and the grayness—
* * *
"She's well out of it now," a voice whispered, speaking to
the shadow who crouched not far from him. "If she'd known
enough to wipe away what the cloth had left on her before
she breathed again— Well, she didn't, so we're all right.
How's he?"
"He'll never hunt again unless he's allowed to hunt at
Home," came the answering whisper, sounding annoyed.
"Now we have him to carry as well as her. I wish we could
simply leave him, but that would be very unwise. Everyone
knows who he takes orders from, and the Duke won't be in the
mood to spare anyone after this."
"And we have to hurry," the first voice said, beginning to
sound anxious. "He wants her out of the castle as soon as
possible, preferably before she's even missed. I don't envy
the ones taking her, not with the sort she is. Why would His
Holiness want her brought to him rather than simply put out
of the way?"
"I don't pretend to do His Holiness' thinking for him," the
second voice replied, dismissal in the tone. "We're just
fortunate that she was seen leaving the feasting hall alone,
and in time to send the hunter after her. She couldn't have
heard him approaching, but she was still able to— Well, I
wouldn't want her either, so all I can think is that His
Holiness must have his reasons. Do you have the weapon she
used?"
"Yes, a dagger," the first voice responded. "I'll turn it
over along with her sword, but we're fortunate she kept it in
her hand. Searching without striking a light can be awkward."
"Not as awkward as moving bodies," the second voice
said, a shadow straightening to its feet. "Let's see if we can't
move them together."

Chapter 6
"My Lord Duke, over here!" a voice called from near one of
the scattered torches, and Kylin was moving even before
Duke Rilfe, Traixe thought. He himself wasn't more than a
step behind, and wouldn't have been even if someone had
been in the way. How that broiling giri could walk out there
alone! He would have sworn she knew better than that . . . !
"We found this, my lord." the fighter who had called
said, holding up something that gleamed silver in the torch-
light. "And—that."
His free hand pointed down to the stone, and Traixe had to
put an arm about Duke Rilfe's shoulders, to keep his lord
steady on his feet. The blood was actually pooled on the
stone, dark in the darkness but unmistakable, and no man—or
woman—had ever lost that amount and lived.
"It isn't hers," Kylin said suddenly, not in desperation but
with assurance, his light eyes examining everything there was
to see. "Tell me, Fighter: was there any blood on that
medallion or chain?"
"Lord Kylin, perhaps you'd like to rest after so terrible a
shock," Traixe interrupted, very aware of the way his fighter
was staring at the young lord. He'd dropped his assumed
characterization completely, but maybe something could be
salvaged from the slip.
"It's a waste of time going on with that now, Traixe,"
Kylin denied with a headshake, then looked at the fighter
again. "Well? Was there any blood?"
"No, my lord," the fighter grudged, still not entirely
certain he ought to be answering like that, but needing to do
something with those light eyes on him. "We found it there,
148

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER
149
three feet away from the blood, and it was just like you see
it."
"I would have wagered all I own on that," Kylin said,
looking to Duke Rilfe with satisfaction. "Your daughter is a
Blade, my Lord Duke, and no Blade may be taken without the
spilling of blood—most often the blood of others. The lady
Sofaltis has been taken, but not without cost to the enemy."
"How can you be certain she was taken rather than slain,
Kylin?" Duke Rilfe asked, seeking assurance and not argu-
ment. "That blood—may well be hers."
"If the blood was hers, her body would be beside it," the
young Fighter answered bluntly, his eyes darkening in the
torchlight. "What reason would they have for taking her
body and hiding it? The Law allows those who have mysteri-
ously disappeared to be declared dead, so what would be
gained? No, her disappearance is for a reason other than
death, and may even have been meant to suggest that she'd
run off on her own."
"Which is a possibility," Traixe put in, disliking having to
say it, but needing to have it said. "If she felt she couldn't
live with what was happening no matter which way it went,
she might well have decided that complete withdrawal was
her only option. She was fond of looking at things tactically."
"As may be," Kylin said with a nod, refusing to allow
Traixe's sourness to touch him. "There's nothing to say she
didn't decide to leave on her own, and if she had it would
scarcely be beyond her to arrange a pool of blood for every-
one to grieve over. She would not, however, have left that
medallion, not even if she had no intentions of rejoining her
Company. I've known enough Blades to know that she would
keep it even if it were packed away never to be taken out
again. The fact that it was left behind means it wasn't left by
her choice."
"And the fact that there was no blood on it should also
mean the blood isn't hers," Traixe pounced, now more eager
than sour. "She wouldn't have given up the medallion will-
ingly, and if it was taken from her body after she was dead
there would be some trace on it. The only thing I don't
understand is why it was left in the first place."
"It may not have been left on purpose," Kylin said, look-
ing around again. "Since the chain was broken and we can

150
Sharon Green
see the blood that was spilled, I think we're safe in assuming
there was a struggle of some kind. We all agree that whoever
did the bleeding didn't survive, so there have to be others
involved. If the others came after the struggle, they might not
have known about the medallion—and wouldn't have been
able to see it in the dark. I seriously doubt that they took the
risk of lighting a torch."
"But—how could they have captured Sofaltis?" Duke Rilfe
demanded, finally having mastered the shock he'd been given.
"If she killed the first to attack her, how could latecomers
catch her unawares?"
"I've been asking myself the same thing," Kylin mut-
tered, beginning to prowl around the area. He was so intent
he never noticed the stares he was being given by House
Guard and fighter alike. The clothing he wore proclaimed
him as something a good deal less than a fighting man, but
those who looked at him were no longer at all eager to test
the contention. The way he moved and spoke—and the ex-
pression in those eyes—
"There!" he said suddenly, freezing in place as his nostrils
flared. "I could have sworn— Traixe, come over here. And
pay attention to odors while you're doing it."
The older Fighter raised his brows questioningly, but fol-
lowed the suggestion without hesitation. Suggestion. Only
right then did it occur to him that this was the man who was
meant to be heir to his lord, and they were only then seeing
the truth of him. Obviously not a man to suggest, clearly a
noble born, a Fighter and leader, so much like his lord had
been at that age—
"Of course!" Traixe burst out suddenly, having caught the
faintest trace of an odor, undoubtedly the same Lord Kylin
had caught not two feet away. "Swamp mist! They must
have had a cloth saturated with it."
"Swamp mist?" Duke Rilfe echoed with a frown, making
his sniffing way over to the other two men. "I've never heard
of swamp mist, and don't smell a thing."
"The traces of it are almost gone, but you'd know it if
you'd ever come across it before," Kylin answered, rubbing
his face with a hand as he looked around again. "It's a liquid
rather than a vapor, but it's called swamp mist because it
smells something like the swamps to be found in the south-

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER	151
west. In my father's Duchy, it's used by the healers on those
who are badly wounded or hurt and need serious work done
on them. It knocks them out so completely, they don't feel a
thing."
"No one who has ever fought in the west can mistake that
smell," Traixe put in in agreement. "Healers elsewhere don't
seem to be as partial to its use. But even if you've never had
it used on you, you remember how th£ healing tents there
usually reeked of the stuff. It was enough to turn a man dizzy
just passing by."
"Duke Rilfe, I need to speak with you," Kylin said sud-
denly, those eyes having shifted color again. "And privately,
if you please."
Duke Rilfe gazed briefly at the young man fortune had
brought to him, then nodded and turned to lead the way back
into the castle. Traixe paused only long enough to take
Sofaltis' medallion and order his men to a complete search of
the castle, and then he had rejoined them. So as not to miss
what young Kylin has in mind, the Duke thought, smiling to
himself despite the pain of loss he still felt. And I find myself
believing Kylin will get her back, he couldn't help adding. It
was difficult seeing the fool Kylin and remembering Kylin
the King's Fighter, but the fool was gone now and the King's
Fighter had taken over. He'd been right to drop the pretense,
and the results of his actions would prove if he was right in
assuming command. At another time the Duke would have
resented so peremptory SKtakepver, but just then he was too
weary and heartsick.
The Duke's guests had all retired to their accommodations
out of respect for their host's distress, which meant Duke
Rilfe had no need of enduring commiseration from anyone
but Sir Fonid and the household staff. They, however, had
the good sense to do no more than speak briefly before
bowing themselves out of his path, which meant he reached
his study in a less enraged frame of mind than would other-
wise have been true. His grief was already beginning to turn
to outrage and fury, burning away the debilitation, weighing
heavily on his mind.
"Very well, young Kylin, you now have the privacy you
requested," the Duke said briskly once Traixe had closed the

152
Sharon Green
door behind them, turning to face the King's Fighter. "What
plan do you have, and how may we help you with it?"
"I have more of a suspicion than a plan, my Lord," Kylin
answered, impressed with how quickly the Duke had recov-
ered his self-possession. This was a man fully as capable as
his father, and one easily admired. "I take it Lord Traixe is
completely in your confidence, and privy even to family
matters?"
"If he weren't, he probably would have spitted 'Lord Kylin'
at first glance," the Duke came back, aware of the way
Traixe was chuckling. "Say what you will, it won't be
anything he isn't already aware of."
"That makes it easier," Kylin said, turning to look at
Traixe. "When was the last time the exit tunnels were checked?
Were there any signs of activity that shouldn't have been
there?"
"The exit tunnels are stone-braced, and therefore need
only occasional checking," Traixe answered slowly, no longer
amused. "The last time I saw them was with Lord Rymar,
Evon keep him. And Evon take me for not thinking of them
myself! How else could those attackers from yesterday have
gotten into the castle?"
"Without the help of the traitor in our household, they
could only have come through the gate as delivery men or
laborers," Duke Rilfe said, frowning as he looked at the
other two. "We discussed the point this morning, Traixe, and
never even considered the tunnels for the simple reason that
no one but we two know of them. How could the traitor have
found out about them?"
"The information doesn't necessarily have to have come
from this Duchy, my lord," Kylin said, beginning to move
around the room as his mind worked. "Anyone finding out
about the exit tunnels would also find out that all the castles
have them, and then it would only be a matter of locating
their entrances here in the castle. I not only believe your
attackers from yesterday were brought in through one of
them, I also believe Sofaltis has already been taken out of the
castle in the same way. I'd like your permission for Lord
Traixe and myself to have a look at them."
"Damn that son of chaos, why would he have his minions
kidnap my daughter?" Duke Rilfe shouted, his fists clenched

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER
153
in fury, his eyes blazing. can understand killing her, but
why would he have her taken? What does he mean to do with
her? Evon help her, what will he do to her?"
"Absolutely nothing, if / have any say in the matter,"
Kylin answered so flatly that Duke Rilfe's gaze snapped to
him, then nearly flinched away again. His own fury, though
louder, was nothing compared to what the younger man
showed in his eyes, and for the second time Duke Rilfe felt
heartened. If it were possible to save Sofaltis, the man she
was promised to would get it done.
"Traixe, take him now, and quickly," Duke Rilfe said,
drained of the anger as suddenly as it had come. The worst of
it was the feeling of helplessness, and he turned away from
the two men already heading for the door, needing to sit
quietly for a while with a cup of wine beside him. The last
words between him and Sofaltis had been ones of anger, and
if she never returned he would remember that to the end of
his days. He lowered himself slowly into a chair as he was
left alone, feeling older than he ever had, wearier than he'd
been when he'd lost his beloved Araisa. At least Araisa had
gone Home to Evon, not into the clutches of an inhuman,
uncaring—
Duke Rilfe's hands had closed convulsively on the chair
arms, an unconscious attempt to choke the life from his
distant, backstabbing enemy. After a moment he deliberately
relaxed again, smiling faintly at the resolve that had come to
him. So Nimram, working behind dupes and hirelings, con-
sidered himself safe, did he? Well, he had finally overstepped
himself with this latest outrage, and would discover that
personally if Sofaltis faile<|tojpturn unharmed. Rilfe, Duke
of Gensea, of the House of Kienne, would protect the lives of
his two youngest daughters by personally ending that of His
Holiness Nimram I. He'd hardly be likely to survive the
doing, but for so sweet an end he was more than willing to
give up his life. Duke Rilfe, smiling with pleasure, settled
back in his chair and reached for the bell cord to summon his
servants.
"I think we can save ourselves some legwork," Traixe
said softly to Kylin as soon as they'd left the Duke's study.

154
Sharon Green
"Let's stop at my apartments for a moment or two, and I'll
explain."
"Let's save even more time and stop at my apartments,"
Kylin countered, already beginning to lead the way in that
direction. "If we find anything worth following up on I want
to be able to do it, so I'm going to change out of these boots
now. Their interesting color aside, if I don't get out of them
soon I'll be mincing around for the rest of my life."
Traixe chuckled at the expression Kylin flashed him, then
followed without argument to the destination already started
for. Once inside with lamps lit and a hasty look around to be
sure they were alone, Traixe settled himself in a chair while
Kylin began digging through the luggage the servants had
been forbidden to touch.
"There are six tunnels, and four of them can be eliminated
immediately, I think," Traixe began, watching Kylin's search
with only half an eye. "One can be reached only through the
main entrance hall, one from the stables, one from the Duke's
apartments, and one from the family wing. With the number
of people always around three of those, and the Duke's
possible presence at any time near the fourth, I think the
tunnel being used is one of the remaining two."
"Then we'll check those two first," Kylin agreed, throw-
ing around prettily-colored silk and usable leather alike. "If
we don't find what we're looking for, we can always go on to
the others— Ah! Here they are."
"I never thought I'd find brown a more attractive color
than red," Traixe observed with a chuckle, then grew serious
again. "If I were to guess, Lord Kylin, I'd say you had a
very special reason for all this hurry you're exhibiting. Would
you care to share that reason with a simple Fighter?"
"Lord Traixe, if the day ever comes that I consider you
nothing more than a simple Fighter, I'll be the one who's
simple," Kylin returned, glancing to the other man as he
began pulling off the boots he wore. "Something you said
about the swamp mist started me thinking, and that's why I'm
convinced we have no time to lose. Tell me what sort of men
you think are the ones who took Sofaltis. Fighters and Blades?"
"No, certainly not," Traixe answered, frowning as he
tried to follow the question to the conclusion it was headed
toward. "Fighters and Blades are followers of Evon, and

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER
155
these have to be fanatics bowing to Grail. Most probably
they're farmers or hunters or possibly servants."
"Who are almost completely unskilled with weapons,"
Kylin agreed, his hands still moving. "Are men like those
likely to want Sofaltis awake and aware before they get her to
where they're going? They know she's a Blade, remember,
and they won't want to take any chances. Won't they feel that
with the swamp mist they don't have to take any chances? All
they have to do is keep her mostly under until they've reached
their destination."
"But they can't do that," Traixe protested, straightening in
his chair. "Prolonged use of the mist builds up a tolerance,
and then it doesn't work any—"
"Exactly," Kylin said grimly, standing up to stamp on his
brown boots the rest of the way. "Healers never notice that
odor around healing tents that you mentioned earlier, the one
that gets you dizzy just from passing by. If enough time goes
by that the mist is completely out of a man's system it will
work again, but not until then. If those people have no real
experience with the mist and are just using it as a handy tool,
the girl will come out of it when they're least expecting it,
and probably come out fighting. How likely are they to have
left her any weapons? How likely are they not to have knives
at the very least of their own?"
"We have to find which way they went as soon as possi-
ble," Traixe said as he also stood, his grimness a match to
Kylin's. "How many of my men do you want to take?"
"I'll move faster and more quietly if I'm alone," Kylin
answered, already leading the way back toward the door.
"We don't want them knowing they're being followed, or
they might decide they'd prefer losing their captive perma-
nently to letting her be rescued. Which way do we go first?"
"This way," Traixe said immediately, and began leading
"This is it," Kylin said as soon as they stepped into the
tunnel, the second they'd checked, its entrance located in a
dark, unused passage near the kitchens. Behind a section of
dusty wall-hanging the stone had swung in smoothly and
noiselessly, the torches they held showing an equally smooth
floor angling clearly downward.
off.

156
Sharon Green
"How can you be so sure?" Traixe asked, keeping his
voice low as he pushed the entrance stone closed behind
them. "There's nothing here to suggest anyone's been this
way since the last time I was."
"Not even footprints in the dust, because there is no
dust," Kylin pointed out, raising his torch to see as far as
possible down the tunnel. "The first tunnel had dust and
footprints both, but only a single set that was scuffed. Some-
one had been in it and then had tried to disguise his presence,
but since it was only a single someone he didn't try too hard.
Here all the dust has been swept clean."
"To hide the exact number of feet that have been through
it," Traixe said in disgust as he looked around. "And I never
even thought to check them. When this is all over, the first
thing I'm going to do is give the Duke my resignation."
"What for?" Kylin asked, turning to look directly at the
other man. "For protecting the locations of the other tunnels?"
"Now what are you talking about?" Traixe demanded,
returning Kylin's stare with confusion. "If they know about
two of the tunnels, it stands to reason they know about them
all."
"They may know there are other tunnels, but they don't
necessarily have to know where they are," Kylin explained,
his tone not in the least condescending, Traixe couldn't help
noticing. "You said the last time you checked the tunnels, it
was with Lord Rymar. Did you check all of the tunnels with
him?"
"Why—no," Traixe answered, abruptly aware of the fact
that the young Fighter seemed to know the answers to the
questions he asked before he asked them. "The only tunnels
we were able to look at were this one and the one you and I
looked at a few minutes ago. The others have to be inspected
in the middle of the night, when no one is around to notice
what's being done. Their locations are in public areas, and—
Evon broil it!"
"Exactly," Kylin said, seeing that Traixe understood. "Who-
ever knew about the tunnels watched to see the areas you and
Lord Rymar disappeared into together, then searched the
areas once you had left. That gave them the locations of two
of the tunnels, and 1 wouldn't be surprised if they were
watching and hoping you would check the others when you

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER
157
found these had been used. There are any number of reasons
why they might want to know all the locations, and every one
of them means trouble for Duke Rilfe. if 1 were you, I would
guard him very carefully from now on."
"My fighters already have orders not to leave anyone
alone with him, not even his servants," Traixe said, his jaw
tightening. "As soon as it was clear Sofaltis was actually
kidnapped, it was also clear Nimram's plans were changing
from their usual mode. As soon as we're through here, I'll be
going back to him."
Kylin nodded with satisfaction, then turned to lead the way
down the tunnel. There was ample headroom, but only width
enough for one man to walk along comfortably. If two had
needed to go shoulder to shoulder, both would have had to
move partially sideways. The tunnel, dry and sturdily rock-
braced throughout, had been swept its entire length, and
when the two men reached the end of it they examined the
heavy door that would look like no more than rock from the
outside.
"It seems our traitor hasn't yet made this an open invita-
tion to anyone who wants entry," Traixe said, pushing at the
metal barred door with a shoulder just to be sure. "He
probably didn't care to have anyone showing up at the wrong
time and giving everything away—which was what most
likely happened yesterday with the two kitchen workers. That
they were killed rather than knocked on the head or tied up
means they got a look at the leader and knew him. I'd have
given two fingers of my left hand to have found one of those
two still alive."
"Maybe we'll have better luck with the ones who took the
girl," Kylin said, settling his torch into a wall brace before
turning to the door bar. "I've had occasion to ask a few
pointed questions in my time, and you'd be surprised at how
eager most people get to answer them."
Traixe smiled as he stepped back from the door, giving
Kylin the room he needed. He'd heard more than a few
stories about the questioning'methods used by King's Fight-
ers, and wouldn't have cared to be subjected to them himself.
As long as they could later show that the man they questioned
was one of those breaking the Law, they could do anything
they pleased—and did. Most of the time just being face to

158
Sharon Green
face with King's Fighters made a man babble his head off—to
be sure they didn't find it necessary to remove it in some
other, far less pleasant, way.
Once the bar was slid free of its seating, the two men put
shoulders to the rock door and pushed. It opened slowly but
easily, letting them out into a dark, starlit night, somewhere
below the castle in the empty, boulder-strewn area to one side
of the road. Kylin stepped back inside for his torch, then the
two men separated to examine the ground of the area, neither
one having much hope of finding anything. Most of the area
was too rocky to take any decent ground-trace, but if they
could just find something—
"Lord Kylin, over here," Traixe called softly after several
silent moments, a restrained excitement in his voice. Kylin
turned to see his dark form folded into a crouch, his torch
flame moving slightly to the urgings of the gentle night-
breeze, and quickly went to join him.
"Look at that," Traixe said, pointing to the piece of
ground he crouched over. "There was a wagon standing here
on this grassy patch, and those rocks over there would have
blocked sight of it from the road. But look at that track."
Kylin crouched across from the other man and added the
light of his own torch, but it wasn't really necessary. Even
the single torch showed the track clearly, a track that shouldn't
have been anywhere near as obvious.
"All 1 can think of is that the metal bracing has come away
from the wheel," Kylin said, putting his fingers to the odd-
looking gouge in the ground. "If the girl is in a wagon
leaving a track like that, a babe in arms would have no trouble
following. I'm wondering if this was a lucky accident—or
done deliberately to draw pursuit in the wrong direction."
"It could be either," Traixe said, no longer quite as pleased
with his discovery. "Are you going to follow it or ignore it?"
"1 can't afford to ignore it," Kylin said, straightening as
Traixe did. "If it's a gift sent by Evon, it's there to be taken
advantage of. If it's a trap set by our enemy, I may still be
able to make it work for us. Let's get back to the castle. I'll
need my horse, some provisions, and your orders to get me
through the gate."
"Even a track like that won't be easy to follow at night,"
Traixe said as he began moving back toward the still-open

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER
159
door. "You may not be saving any time leaving before
sunup."
"Whatever ground I cover will be that much less of a lead
they have," Kylin disagreed with a headshake, his mind
clearly made up. "They'll be expecting any pursuit to wait
until morning, so 1 have to be better off starting right now. If
it's a false trail, I may be able to discover that sooner."
Traixe knew from long association wijh nobility that any
further argument would be a waste of breath, so he sighed
and didn't bother. He also admitted to himself that the young
Fighter might be right—which he profoundly hoped would
prove to be the case.
Not quite an hour later, Kylin leaned down from his horse
to examine the road where he'd come to a halt, not far from a
stand of boulders. The lamp he held was the sort used in
stables, a heavy candle enclosed all around by metal and
glass, easy to carry without losing the flame, and providing
an adequate amount of light. With its help the young Fighter
could just see the distinctive wagon track where it joined the
road, coming from the field of boulders and stones to the
right.
"And taking off down the road at a good speed," he
muttered to himself as he walked his horse forward. "If they
were only a decoy, would they be in that much of a hurry?"
His horse snorted and shook its head, and he had to smile
at the unexpected answer. It was the answer he wanted to be
true, but it didn't necessarily have to be. Decoys would know
that they couldn't afford to be caught, so they would hardly
be taking their time. The only faint hope he had was that a
decoy would be trying to leave a clear, easy trail to follow, at
least at first, and so shouldn't be hurrying quite that much.
"Well, I'll be finding out eventually," he muttered again,
straightening in the saddle. It was going to be a long night
and longer day tomorrow unless the trail suddenly disap-
peared, and it had only just occurred to him that he hadn't
changed out of the Flower clothing he'd been wearing. If
he'd noticed sooner he would have done something about it,
but he wasn't about to turn back just for that. Once he had the
answers he was after, there would be time for unimportant

160
Sharon Green
side issues. He put his heels to his horse's sides, and moved
off down the road at the pace to which he meant to keep.
The wagon provided a terrible ride, and Merrol was more
affected by it than any of the others. After two nights and
almost two full days, with only the second of those nights
given over to rest, he was beginning to believe he would be
violently ill before the trip was finally over. The other two
had suggested they leave him behind at an inn, but he refused
to allow that. He was the one who had been given the deeply
satisfying task of taking the girl to His Holiness, and he
wasn't about to let the task be completed without him. He
had the sensitivity of a civilized man and that sensitivity was
being abused, but he was willing to face anything just so long
as the insult given him was repaid many times over.
"And this illness is your fault as well, you trollop," he
murmured with all the spite he felt, looking down at the girl
who lay senseless in the blankets beyond his folded legs. "If
that awful liquid wasn't necessary to keep you under control,
1 would not have needed to breathe those traces of it. I've
been nauseated ever since, and you'll pay for that, too."
Which he would be sure to see to. Without knowing what
His Holiness intended for the girl he hadn't dared do as he
liked with her, but he'd still been able to return some measure
of the humiliation she had given to him. He had been sent to
her as her father's messenger, and although it had been his
intention to lead her into a trap where she might be taken, she
hadn't known that. In the spirit of generosity he had at-
tempted to correct her in regard to the unsuitability of the
clothing she wore, and she had held him up to ridicule before
those insufferably arrogant fighters assigned as her body-
guard. They had laughed at him, at him, and he had had no
recourse then but to accept the ridicule.
"But I've made up for that, haven't I, girl?" he whis-
pered, reaching over to the blanket covering her, just as he
had any number of times in the past two days. "You made a
joke of nakedness, but how amusing would you find it now?"
Removal of the blanket bared the girl's body again, offer-
ing sight of it to him as well as inviting his touch. Inviting,
oh, yes indeed, it was inviting, an unexpected smoothness
that had been hidden beneath harsh leathers. His palm slid up

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER
161
from the flatness of her belly to the mound of her well-
formed breast, and the sensations brought to him by the
kneading of his fingers were almost enough to overcome his
illness. How soft that breast was to begin with, and how
quickly the large nipple hardened under his hand. This time
she moaned as well, moving sluggishly as though in protest,
and he smiled as he continued to squeeze and caress her.
"You dislike being touched so, my "lady?" he whispered,
the dimness of the wagon interior no barrier to his sight of
her. "What a pity you find yourself displeased, but consider
the future before voicing that displeasure. His Holiness will
have no use for your body, but his gratitude for my invalu-
able assistance in bringing you to him will surely allow me
what he has no interest in. You will be fully awake when you
serve me, girl, and only then will you learn the true meaning
of displeasure. By that time, however, the lesson will do you
no good at all."
The girl moaned again and moved about under his touch,
as helpless to refuse it as he had been to refuse her insult. It
gave him great pleasure to finally see a response in her, but
that very response meant she would soon need that liquid put
to her face again. As soon as she was given water to drink
and thin cereal to swallow. Eating and drinking and then that
liquid. Merrol knew he should summon one of the others to
see to her, but the illness was rising in him quickly again, too
quickly to consider anything but himself. He was going to
upchuck, he knew he was, and he began scrambling toward
the front of the wagon, intent on nothing but bending over the
side of the seat.
* * *
I couldn't remember ever having been in a river of confu-
sion before, and didn't even know how long I'd been in it
that time. I was lying on something that seemed to be mov-
ing, always moving, and harder than what I considered com-
fortable. My head hurt a little, and I felt dizzy when I could
feel anything at all, and the smell all around me was almost
completely overpowering. Almost completely. Almost. Every
once in a while it faded, and when it came back it wasn't as

162
Sharon Green
strong as it had been. The confusion persisted, but the smell
wasn't as strong.
And then came another fading time, when I felt a blanket
under my back, and light came from somewhere to hurt my
eyes, and then there were fingers touching my flesh. Pudgy,
repulsive fingers, 1 thought, trying to remember, disliking the
childish groping of the touch. It's not the first time, I thought,
moving around on that blanket, not the first time he's dared
to touch me. Dared? Why was it a matter of dared? I usually
enjoyed the touch of men, why didn't 1 like this one?
I moved around again, hearing whispered words 1 didn't
understand, but suddenly my heart was beating faster. I had
to get out of there, I remembered thinking that before too,
but couldn't quite remember why. I could barely move and
felt really odd, but the urge to leave was becoming over-
whelming. 1 struggled to open my eyes, had to blink back
blurriness when I did, then suddenly found myself sitting up.
That hadn't been hard at all, the sitting part, not as hard as
I'd thought it would be, but 1 had to crawl toward the light on
hands and knees because of the blurriness. Light meant out so
that's where I had to go, even if it was harder than sitting up
and crawling.
And it was harder. When I reached the place the light was
coming from, I found wood and heavy cloth in my way. It's a
wagon, 1 thought, the blurriness and confusion clearing just a
little, but still leaving me feeling as though I moved through a
dream. I could see a road disappearing behind the dream
wagon I rode in, and knew I needed to be down on that road.
I had to climb down from the back of that wagon, down to
the road, down to where it was moving, down away from
where I was—
Hitting hard, dusty ground seemed to wake me up, the pain
bringing back awareness instead of taking it away. I lay there
unmoving for a moment, a receding creak of wheels in my
ears, believing I was back in mounted weapons training and
had just done something stupid, and then I remembered 1 was
escaping. Escaping from what I still couldn't recall, but 1
knew I hadn't intended simply falling out of the wagon. I
groaned as I stirred on the dusty road, trying to tell myself
that out was out no matter how I'd gotten that way, but there
seemed to be something wrong with that line of logic. 1

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER
163
couldn't quite figure out what, but there was definitely some-
thing wrong with it.
Wrong or not, the lowering sun was in my slitted eyes, and
years of training had taught me that the first thing you did
after falling down was get up again. As soon as possible. I
turned to my belly then pushed up to my hands and knees,
knelt like that for a moment with my head hanging, then
somehow managed to get to my feet, f felt horribly weak and
light-headed, as though I'd been sick or wounded, but I
couldn't remember being either.
I started walking on the dusty road, blinked when 1 saw a
wagon far ahead disappearing from sight around a bend, only
then realizing 1 was walking the wrong way. It was something
of an effort to turn around without falling down again, and
once I'd done it I felt terribly proud. I'd escaped from
wherever it was I had to escape from, and now I was walking
the road I'd earlier only been looking at. I was proud of what
I'd accomplished, wasn't hurting much at all, and was de-
lightfully comfortable even in the warmth of the afternoon.
My leathers had never felt so cool and comfortable, and I
began humming to the birds in the trees all around as I
walked.
Time receded behind steps and humming, steps and no
humming, steps with a thickening fog rolling in. I thought it
was strange that a fog should appear right in the middle of a
sunny afternoon, but the fog didn't seem to mind at all. it just
rolled right along at me, then over me, then nothing.
* * *
Kylin was moving along the road at a good clip, his sword
loose in its scabbard, a dark eagerness in his light eyes. After
all that time of following he was convinced the wagon leav-
ing the odd track was no decoy, and he knew he wasn't more
than an hour or so behind it. If they hadn't changed horses
just before dawn of the first day he would have had them
sooner—or if he hadn't had to rest his own mount the night
before. He himself had slept because he'd had nothing better
to do, not because he was so spent he was close to exhaus-
tion. As a King's Fighter he'd more than once spent day after
night after day in the saddle, riding mounts in relays, staying

164
Sharon Green
awake by sheer determination, and then fighting at the end of
it. Hopefully he would soon be in another fight, one he'd
been anticipating for the last few hours.
His mind had turned so deeply into the problem of how he
might get to the girl before the men with her knew he was
there, that his eyes registered movement on the road ahead
before he was aware of it. He came out of plotting and
planning to blink at the distant sight, wondering what it could
possibly be. Whatever it was it was mostly light-colored, like
a slim bear with its pelt gone. Walked upright like a bear did
at times, but didn't seem as steady on its feet. It was coming
right down the middle of the road, too, just as though—
Kylin pulled back on his reins so hard his mount nearly
reared in protest, but nevertheless slowed its pace to the walk
its rider was insisting on. Its numb, stunned rider. Kylin had
seen more things than most men of his years, but never, ever,
had he seen anything to match the sight in front of him then.
He walked his horse at it slowly, distantly realizing that his
speculation on what lay under Sofaltis' leathers had been very
nearly on the mark, so bemused that he didn't even think to
look around for the wagon and its men.
She was free, she was all but strolling along, and she
seemed completely unhurt. Not to mention the fact that she
was also stark naked.
Kylin grinned wide at the sight, belatedly remembering to
glance around but still keeping most of his attention on the
girl. The surprising part was that she was up and moving at
all that soon, much sooner than he would have expected her
to be. And obviously sooner than her captors had expected.
He knew he'd better get her off the road until she was back to
herself again, and that fairly quickly. If the enemy showed up
and there was a fight, in her condition she'd probably try to
get into it—bare-handed.
He began chuckling as he pulled his horse to a halt and
dismounted, reaching behind the saddle for one of the blan-
kets rolled there. He couldn't wait to see the girl's face when
she discovered she'd been wandering along the road, happy
as a cloud, without a stitch on. He knew any number of Blades—
mostly male, of course, but the principle should be the same—
and if any of them had been turned loose naked to trip gaily
through the countryside, they would be shouting for blood

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER
165
five minutes after they came out of it. He would have to
watch her carefully, sit on her if necessary—
He turned back with the blanket toward the figure that had
been strolling to him, and discovered it was no longer stroll-
ing. The girl was now sitting on the road about fifteen feet
away, waving one arm as though trying to chase something
away from her. The motion wasn't violent, just faintly an-
noyed, and even as he watched she gave up on it with a shrug
and lay down on the road as if it were her bed. Even from
where he stood Kylin could tell she was out again, so he
sighed and took the reins of his mount to lead it closer.
"Well, old horse, it looks like we won't be having her
company for a while after all," he said, ready to laugh at
himself for feeling disappointed. "Once she wakes up again
she ought to be completely out of it, and then we'll be able to
talk to her. Talk to her. I hadn't thought of that. Evon broil
it, what are we going to tell her?"
His horse snorted and shook its head, leaving that entirely
up to him, much too smart to get involved in a mess like that.
What had Traixe said to him, about how quickly she would
refuse to marry Kylin if she wasn't convinced she was keeping
her father from dishonor? He knew it was true, even though
he wished it wasn't, and it looked as if he was going to have
to go right back to the part he had so happily abandoned.
"Even though it's going to be damned hard explaining
what I'm doing here," he muttered, going to one knee beside
the girl to spread the blanket he would wrap her in. "If I'd
changed clothes before leaving the castle I'd have to tell you
the truth, but I didn't think it was important enough to stop
for."
She stirred very faintly when he put his arms under her to
lift her onto the blanket, and once he put her down on it he
couldn't keep his hand from going to smooth her hair.
"I'll have to speak to the King about passing a law against
women like you," he murmured, looking down at her unre-
sponsive face. "You're not beautiful enough to make me feel
like this, so it simply isn't fair. Do you realize I came away
from the castle in such a rush, that I never got that woman
Traixe promised me?"
The girl lay unmoving on the blanket, aware of nothing,
but Kylin wasn't quite that fortunate. He was very aware of

166
Sharon Green
what was so close to him, and the situation had become a
good deal more desperate. The woman was his and he was
determined to have her, but how in hell was he supposed to
accomplish that while staying in character? He would have to
think of something, would think of something by the time she
woke, or that would be the end of the role. It never occurred
to him that he might have her right then, at the side of
the road behind some bushes, with none, including her, being
the wiser. He insisted on his women being alive, and at the
moment she wasn't.
"We'll find a cave like the one I slept in last night, and
then we'll work on the problem," he told the girl as he
covered her with the blanket, then began gathering her up.
"You're going to enjoy yourself with me, and then you're
going to marry me, and we'll both be very happy. You have
my word on that, my girl, and I've never yet broken my
word."
Her head rolled against his shoulder as he stood with her in
his arms, and he smilingly took that as complete agreement.

Chapter 7
I awoke to a dim light feeling fairly comfortable, wondering
why I was expecting to be wrccomfortable. It was a strange
thing to be expecting, as strange as thinking the air would
smell odd, even though it didn't. And nothing was moving,
even though I felt it ought to be moving. I put a hand to my
head as 1 shifted around in the blankets, knowing at least that
was right, trying to figure out—
Blankets? Right? How could blankets be right? What in
broiling hell had hap—
I sat up so fast everything around me swung dizzily, finally
remembering what had happened on the battlements. I'd been
taken, Evon broil it, like the greenest recruit, and they'd used
whatever had knocked me out to keep me under. I could
remember bits and snatches of almost waking up, and a
dream about escaping, but where the hell was I right then? It
looked an awful lot like a cave, with a very low fire near its
mouth and a stable lamp between me and the fire. Beyond the
cave mouth was darkness, an after-sundown darkness, with
no sign of that wagon. Had I escaped after all, or was that
simply a rest stop for the night? I had to find out fast,
before—
"Oh, excellent, you've finally awakened!" a voice said
from the cave mouth I was no longer looking at, the last
voice in the whole, entire world I'd expected to hear. "You
must be absolutely famished, my dear, I know I would be.
I'll have the fire built up in a moment, and then I'll rewarm
the rabbit left from my own meal."
I turned my head very slowly, trying to convince myself
that if anything was a dream that had to be it, but it didn't
167

168
Sharon Green
work. The Flower was there at the cave mouth, having come
in with a heavy armload of wood, and was already turning
toward the fire. How he could possibly be there 1 couldn't
imagine, but I was certainly going to find out.
"Where in Evon's steel-lined hells did you come from?" I
demanded, aware of the outrage in my voice but helpless to
do anything about it. "And where could you possibly have
gotten rabbit for a meal? Did a family of them come up to
you and drop dead at your feet?"
"Certainly not," he answered in injured tones, keeping his
head down as he began feeding the fire. "As a boy I was as
well-schooled in rabbit-catching and such as my brothers,
even though I've always found the doing rather repellent.
Now, however, the repellent has become the necessary, there-
fore do we have rabbit for supper."
"Old rabbit, would be my guess," I muttered, still more
than annoyed, then raised my voice again. "Okay, you've
explained the meal. Now how about explaining what you're
doing here."
"That, my lady, should be obvious," he said, his tone also
suggesting how obvious the answer was. "You are, after all,
my lady, are you not? Was I to allow scoundrels to run off
with you and do nothing about it? When we discovered what
seemed to be your trail, I naturally followed at once. The
effort was somewhat rigorous for a civilized man like myself,
but it allowed me to be there when I was most needed."
"When you were most needed," I echoed, only then notic-
ing how well-worn his finery was. "Are you trying to tell me
you rescued me? You?"
"Well—ah—not quite that," he admitted, glancing up at
me as he reached for a leather-wrapped something I hadn't
seen on the far side of the fire. "I was on the road, still riding
in pursuit, when I suddenly found that part of what I was in
pursuit of was coming toward me from the very direction in
which I rode. Apparently you had somehow managed to
escape your captors, and were walking back the way you had
been brought."
"Walking back," I repeated, the phrase triggering memo-
ries I'd thought were from a dream. "I seem to remember
walking after—getting—out of a wagon, and it was a very
pleasant walk. I think I was humming."

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER
169
"You may well have been," he agreed, using a branch to
put what came out of the leather pack into the building fire.
"1 had the distinct impression you weren't aware of me,
however, and before I could reach you you had stretched out
right there on the road to sleep. 1 wrapped you in a blanket as
quickly as I could, then found this cave for us."
"Wrapped me in a blanket," 1 said, distantly wondering if
I were fated to start every speech from then on by repeating
what had been said to me. That might have been my first
concern—if 1 didn't have another to push it out of place.
"Why—why did you have to wrap me in a blanket?"
"For a rather—distressing—reason," he said, keeping his
eyes on the rabbit rather than raising them to me. "I do hope
you will forgive me for being unable to put this more delicately,
my lady, but you were rather—extensively unclad, and under
the circumstances 1 thought it best—"
He broke off at the sound I voiced, a sound that even I
couldn't completely interpret. I suppose part of it was some
sort of laughter, due to the fact that I'd almost repeated the
phrase, "extensively unclad." Only a Flower would apolo-
gize for not being able to put it more delicately, and I was
trying to see if there was a more delicate way of saying 1 was
stark naked. Because that's what I must have been.
Stark naked. And in front of him.
"My lady, are you all right?" he asked, his eyes undoubt-
edly on me, his "concern" clear in his voice. I had to guess
about where his eyes were because 1 was no longer looking at
him; 1 had turned my head away, my own eyes were closed,
and my hands were tight on the blanket over me, holding it
up to my chin.
Which was absolutely stupid. For some idiotic reason I
suddenly felt as though I'd never been naked before, as
though I had never shared my nakedness with my Fistmates
or any other men. And then it came to me that it wasn't the
concept of "men" that was bothering me, it was "man."
One particular man who wasn't fully a man, but who had
chased after me as though he were. I was terribly, horribly
embarrassed, and more uncomfortable than I could in any
way understand.
"Oh, yes, I'm absolutely fine and dandy," I said after a
minute, forcing myself to open my eyes. "I must walk naked

170
Sharon Green
down a road six or seven times every year. Nothing to it. What
happened to my clothes?"
"I've really no idea," he said, and then I heard the sound
of steps as he moved away from the fire. 4if they'd been
anywhere about, I would certainly have recovered them for
you. Here, you may begin your meal with this, and if you
should want more I'll be glad to put it in the fire for you."
By then he was standing over me with the branch and
rabbit, and I had to admit I was considerably more hungry
than embarrassed. I held the blanket over me with one hand
as I took the branch with the other, and then I was tearing at
the meat with my teeth while he walked to the other side of
me and bent down. He straightened with a small waterskin
which he also brought over, and then he was sitting down on
the stone beside me.
44My lady, I really must have a serious word with you," he
said, his entire expression already looking serious. 4i clearly
noted your embarrassment of a moment ago, and 1 cannot
allow you to be distressed in such a way. That you stood
before me unclothed is of no moment at all, not in any
manner at all. We are betrothed, and as soon as we return to
your father's castle, you will become my wife. Such things as
nakedness are commonplace between husband and wife, and
therefore should bring you nothing of embarrassment."
4if it's all that commonplace, then it's your turn to in-
dulge," I said around a mouthful of rabbit, resenting his
entire attitude. I didn't need his comments about an embar-
rassment I couldn't even understand the reason for feeling,
and I certainly didn't need him discussing again something he
would or wouldn't "allow." He was acting as though I really
did belong to him, and that was too ridiculous for words.
"You needn't try hiding your upset with flippancy," he
came back, actually trying to look at me sternly. 44You are a
woman with a woman's sensibilities, and modesty in its
proper place is nothing to be ashamed of. I'm well aware of
the fact that I'm a virtual stranger to you, but I would have
you remember my betrothal rights. Nothing improper oc-
curred between us, and 1 want you to understand that."
4'Apparently I understand more than you do," I said, in no
mood to dance delicately around the issue. 44You're taking
our proposed marriage as something guaranteed to happen,

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER
171
and that's your biggest mistake. I haven't yet agreed to marry
you, and probably won't."
"But, my lady, we. are betrothed," he said, having the
nerve to speak slowly and gently to me, as though explaining
something to a child. "Betrothal rights are mine, including
acceptance or refusal of the match. 1 have so far voiced no
refusal, and the Law allows none to you. Your father had not
only agreed to the match but had insisted on it, and now must
stand by his word."
"1 can't see any problem in that," I said with a shrug, still
chewing. "If my father gave his word, let him marry you. I
won't be treated as though I were less than a slave, not even
by the King's Law."
"My lady, the Law treats you as what you are," he said,
still with that clenched-teeth-making patience. "You are a
woman, and not entitled to the rights earned by men. The
right of refusal is mine, and I have not as yet decided whether
I will exercise that right."
If there had been any handy weapon around at all, he
would have learned something about the rights some women
had. I was so angry I was on the verge of forgetting about
what was left of the rabbit on the warming stick, but then I
really heard the last thing he'd said.
"What do you mean, you haven't yet decided whether or
not you'll refuse?" I asked, feeling the first, faint stirrings of
hope. "I thought you were, as Traixe put it, 'taken' with me.
Has Evon's luck made you 'take' it back?"
"In full fact, I continue to find you as unexplainably
attractive as I did," he answered, this time with noticeable
stiffness as he straightened where he sat. "That this feeling
has never before been mine does not mean it's shallow and
fleeting. No, my hesitation comes from another source
entirely."
"Ah, so now we've found hesitation," I pounced, feeling
better and better. "You know that old saying, don't you: he
who hesitates does better to refrain? That sounds like good
advice to me."
"At this juncture I have little interest in advice," he came
back almost snappishly, his light eyes looking annoyed. "My
dresser, Jestrion, attempted to give me advice concerning
females before I left home, and although he has as little experi-

172
Sharon Green
ence with them as I, his were the words which raised my
doubts. Because of him, I now find myself hesitant. Would
you care for more of the rabbit?"
"No," I answered, putting aside emptied stick and emp-
tied bones to reach for the water skin. "What I want is to
hear about these doubts. If they have any substance, I'll tell
you immediately."
Or sooner, I added to myself as I raised the waterskin, not
about to let that priceless opportunity pass by. No matter
what he said I should be able to confirm the worst aspects of
it, and maybe even make them seem even more terrible. Just
before I blocked out sight of his face with the waterskin I
thought I saw amusement in his eyes, but his next words
proved I must have been mistaken.
"Your graciousness is not unexpected, my lady," he said
gravely, and I lowered the waterskin to see that he wasn't
looking at me any longer. "My doubts are—personal ones,
and certainly cast no reflection on you. Jestrion insisted I
would find no pleasure with a female, in fact it would be
exactly the opposite. If this were to prove true then I, in turn,
would be able to give no pleasure to you, which would hardly
be honorable or fair. Under such a circumstance, I could do no
other thing than voice my refusal to the marriage and depart
forever."
He ended his speech with his head hanging, obviously
already more than half convinced that his fears were not
unfounded. It wasn't quite fair to encourage him in those
fears, but defense of self comes before fairness in those who
intend surviving.
"In marriage, a husband is required to satisfy his wife," I
agreed with him soberly, making sure my tone shared the
gravity he'd been showing. "So you have no experience with
women at all, no experience with how difficult it is to satisfy
a partner. Even many—more enthusiastic—men find the ac-
complishment beyond them. For a virgin to expect to outdo
them ..."
I let the words trail off as I shook my head, projecting
enough doubt to emasculate a satyr. Virgin or not, he had one
infallible way of knowing whether or not he was interested. If
all that doubt turned him incapable of any interest at all, he
should have no choice but to draw the conclusions I wanted

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER	173
him to. My hopes were very high as I put the waterskin aside,
and then he sighed.
"Yes, my lack of -experience is what causes my hesita-
tion," he said, sounding completely depressed as he still
avoided my eye. "How can I know what success or failure
would be mine without ever having tried the thing? I've heard
men discussing the matter, of course, speaking as they sel-
dom if ever speak before women, and without exception they
all found such—delight in it. I would like to believe that I,
too, would experience delight but how am I to know?"
"Well, one thing you can't do is believe everything you
hear," I said, looking for defeat rather than depression.
"Since men are supposed to enjoy themselves with women, a
lot of them insist they have when they're talking to other
men. The truth of the matter is that they haven't enjoyed
themselves, and weren't able to satisfy the woman involved,
either, i learned these things from my Fistmates in our Sword
Company, so you know they have to be true. With odds like
that against you, you'd be best off forgetting the whole
thing—before you experience the agony of failure."
"The agony of failure," he repeated, rubbing his face with
one hand as he stared down at his folded legs, his voice
faintly muffled. "Yes, I've heard tell of that agony, and
certainly wouldn't care to experience it. 1 am, however, in an
extremely untenable position in that I must learn the truth in
order to see where honor lies. It would be greatly distressing
to learn of my lacks only after the ceremony was completed."
"Distressing isn't the word I would use," I said in a
mutter, then went on, "Well, if you feel that way about it,
there's only one thing you can do. As soon as we get back to
the city, you'll have to patronize a night house. That will
settle the question with no two ways about it."
"A night house," he echoed, finally looking up to stare at
me blankly. He seemed to have caught the repeating disease
I'd been suffering from, but apparently wasn't aware of it. As
a matter of fact he didn't seem aware of much, as though he
hadn't the faintest idea of how to answer my suggestion and
was concerned with nothing but thinking furiously. I thought
I might know what was bothering him, so I smiled at him to
add to it.
"Yes, I'm afraid failure in a night house would become

174
Sharon Green
rather widely known," I said, using faint compassion to
disguise the twisting of the knife. "You could spare yourself
that by simply accepting the most likely results without tor-
turing yourself, and give my father another reason for your
refusal. I'm sure he would accept just about anything as a
reason, as would 1. . . ."
"But, my dear, I couldn't possibly use a night house to
settle the question," he said suddenly, something oddly like
inspiration causing the outburst. "1 find no interest in those
women under any circumstances, so how might failure with
them have meaning? My sole interest is in you, and as you
are to be my wife, how might the matter be settled with
another?"
He stared at me with the triumph of logic crowning him,
but all 1 could do was stare back with the most terrible feeling
creeping over me. He couldn't be suggesting what it sounded
like, he just couldn't, not when I'd been so close to talking
him into forgetting the marriage entirely!
"If you're trying to say you want to try it with me, you can
forget it," I told him flatly, discovering that I was almost
back to the point of clutching the blanket to me. "The
decision about who I share a bed with has always been mine,
and I intend seeing that it always will be. If you're asking to
have your name put on the list, the answer is: not even at the
bottom."
"Well, I certainly wouldn't dream of trying to coerce
you," he answered, the triumph now muted by an agreeable-
ness I didn't care for, his light eyes casually hooded. "If you
insist on waiting for our wedding night, 1 would hardly be so
boorish as to deny you that. That is the time consummation
will be most necessary and binding, and even if I should
discover a great dislike for the act, my duty in that respect
will already have been done. It will, of course, be far too late
to consider your feelings or what so passionless a marriage
would be for you ..."
"The consummation!" I said as I sat straighter, suddenly
remembering something important. "If 1 insist to everyone
that you weren't capable of consummating the marriage,
they'll have to have it annulled! Now, why didn't 1 think of
that sooner?"
"Possibly, my lady, and I hope you will forgive the indeli-

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER
175
cacy, because you have no means of proving such a charge,"
he murmured, this time rubbing at his face with two fingers.
44A sheltered maiden, previously uninvolved with the world,
would certainly not find it the same, but a Blade of a Sword
Company— Or, forgive me, have 1 assumed a condition which
simply isn't so?"
He waited politely for the answer to his question, his brows
raised just a little, knowing damnecl well 1 had no other
answer. You might be able to find virgins in a Sword Com-
pany, but it wouldn't be wise putting gold or silver or even
copper on the possibility.
"And so, you see, our wedding night is certain to be a
resounding success no matter what occurs," he said, and I
swear it was nearly a purr. "If I were to discover a great
dislike beforehand it would be possible for me to act honor-
ably, but afterward—"
He spread his hands with very heavy, very innocent regret,
his resignation about as believable as the sigh following his
shrug. He had his mind set on trying what the big boys did,
and whatever his real reason was, he didn't seem ready to
back down. I didn't believe for a moment that it was a
question of honor, and he had managed to get me good and
mad.
4'Well, then, my only other option is to see to it that there
is no wedding night," 1 said, lying back to get comfortable in
the blankets. "I flatly refuse to marry you, and nothing,
including the Law, can force me to it."
"In a manner of speaking, that's true," he said, for an
instant looking frustrated and annoyed before he forced those
emotions away again. "It upsets me to believe that a man's
daughter would betray him so, leaving him prey to those who
would see him brought down, but apparently it's so. Perhaps
I'm fortunate in that I will likely never have such a daughter
of my own."
4'I'm not betraying my father!" I protested, rising to one
elbow while he rose to his feet. "I never agreed to this or any
other marriage, and he had no right to assume 1 would agree!
He never asked me!"
If I expected a response to my contention, I didn't get one.
Without a word he circled my blankets, picked up the warm-
ing stick and bones I'd left, then headed back toward the fire.

176
Sharon Green
He could have said that most daughters don't need to be
asked, that they simply do as they're told because they're
female and have nothing better to do with their lives, but he
didn't. That would have given me the chance to point out that
I did have something better to do with my life, which would
have brought us back to the point we'd just left.
1 lay back in the blankets again with unfinished arguments
gnawing at me, the one with the Flower—and the one with
my father. What bothered me most was wondering if Traixe
was right and my father did intend ordering me to walk away
from the marriage; if that turned out to be so, what was I
going to do? Walking away under those circumstances would
be betraying him, but staying would be a betrayal of myself. 1
still couldn't decide what I would do, but I could see I was
passing up the possibility of avoiding that particular decision.
It would be horribly distasteful, but I had to go through with
it.
"All right, you win," 1 said, staring up at the cave ceiling.
"Let's see how great a distaste we can find in you—assuming
we can first find interest enough for a beginning. But don't
expect me to enjoy any of it. I've never been partial to rape."
There was silence from his part of the cave for a moment,
and then he was crouching beside my blankets.
"My lady, it was not my intention to bring you distress,"
he said softly and seriously, and oddly enough 1 almost
believed him. 4T have no wish to force myself on you,
merely do I seek to still the doubts within me. 1 would make a
poor husband indeed if I gave no thought to the woman who
will be my wife, and you must not become upset over this
doing. My betrothal rights allow it to me, and therefore also
to you."
"I'd like to see how far you'd get if those rights didn't
extend to me," I retorted, still really annoyed as I looked up
at his hulking form. "And if you were all that concerned
about me, you'd walk away from this marriage without the
experimentation, which, I'm sure you know as well as I do,
is completely unnecessary."
"Hardly unnecessary," he said with a faint smile, and then
had the nerve to reach down and take my hand in both of his.
44A man who is named heir to a Duke must have heirs of his
own, and there continues to be but a single way of achieving

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER
177
that. Surely it will be to the benefit of us both to know that
such achievement will be possible—and, hopefully, extremely
pleasant."
He actually grinned before kissing my hand, then straight-
ened as I snatched it back to rub it vigorously on the blanket.
When I looked up again he was on his way back to the fire,
totally unconcerned with how I'd reacted to his supposedly
gallant gesture. He was so absolutely an3 completely strange,
easily the strangest male i had ever met, and the way he kept
assuming that our marriage was definitely going to be was
beginning to really disturb me. I didn't want to marry any-
one, most especially not him, but his attitude was beginning
to make me feel I'd have no more choice in the matter than a
chain child. I didn't enjoy feeling like that, and as I moved
around in annoyance in the blankets, decided I'd have to do
something about it.
I watched him putter about a bit around the fire that was
beginning to die down again, but instead of adding more of
the wood he'd brought in, he left it to go to a large stock of
mossy vines piled near the cave wall on the other side of the
floor. It didn't take long before a generous amount of the
vines had been brought to the right of my blankets, and then
he was arranging his own blankets on top of the vines, just as
he had obviously done with mine to make them so comfort-
able. I didn't like how close he was putting his bed to mine,
literally arranging things to make one large bed, but consider-
ing what he intended trying I couldn't very well argue the
point.
When the bed-making was completed to his satisfaction
and he had taken off his fancy swordbelt, he turned to the
stable lamp that was giving off more light than the remains of
the fire, and blew it out. That plunged us into almost pitch
darkness, the remains of the fire making him no more than an
ill-defined, looming shadow.
"Why did you do that?" I asked, this time watching what I
could see of him groping his way back to his blankets.
"Without the lamp and the fire, we might as well be wearing
blindfolds."
"I'm afraid I must admit that the darkness is for me," he
said, sounding somewhat apologetic but already beginning to
take his clothes off, starting with his boots. "Now that the

178
Sharon Green
time has come to learn the truth, my hesitancy seems to have
increased. 1 hope such apprehensions are normal."
"You can hardly expect me to know that from first-hand
experience," I said, rolling to my right and bracing up on my
elbow and hand. "All I can tell you is that most of the men
I've had sex with seemed completely confident and unwor-
ried. The ones who weren't didn't make much of a showing."
He made a noncommittal sound in response to my not-so-
subtle jabbing, but still continued on with shucking his clothes.
If nothing else he certainly was determined, and under other
circumstances I might have complimented him on how diffi-
cult he was to discourage. Under those circumstances, though,
I would be doing everything but complimenting him, if you
considered doing nothing as part of doing everything. Most
men, I'd been told, consider an unresponsive partner almost
as bad as being thrown into an ice-cold river. I'd never before
had occasion to test the contention, but that seemed like an
excellent opportunity for it.
The dark form beside me was finally out of its clothes, and
then it turned in my direction.
"We may now begin," he announced, just as though he
were discussing a meal or a race—or maybe even a fight.
"I'm not totally without knowledge of what's necessary, as
Strangis and Frask, the fighters who accompanied me on the
journey here, felt it necessary to inform me of certain of the
basics. The first thing I'm to do is take you in my arms."
"Well, well, love-making through instruction," I drawled
with as much amusement as I could manage, purposely staying
right where I was. "And to make it even better, instruction
from fighters. Have you ever heard what Blades say about
fighters?"
"I'm fairly sure we shouldn't be in the midst of a discus-
sion right now," he said, his voice the least bit strained as a
wide shadow-hand began reaching toward me. "Discussion is
a distraction, and ..."
4'As far as Blades are concerned, fighters do most of their
practicing with each other," 1 went on, happily ignoring what
he'd said. "Considering the fact that fighters, unlike Blades,
are all male, that makes their advice somewhat questionable.
Listening to an ordinary fighter is almost as bad as asking a
King's Fighter."

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER
179
"Almost as bad?" he said, pausing with his dark bar of an
arm poised over me. "Why would asking a King's Fighter be
worse?"
"You didn't know about King's Fighters?" I asked with a
snicker, hopefully demoralizing him even more by hinting
that those who didn't know were distinctly inferior. "They
need the King's permission to wipe their noses, because
independent thinking is entirely beyond them. If one of them
ever actually manages to find his way to a night house, even
the slaves try to run. I've heard it said many times that you'll
never find a King's Fighter with only one hand. One would
get tired too quickly, and they didn't mean that in reference
to weapons."
I couldn't help laughing at that, remembering how long
ago I'd first heard it from a Blade of my Company, but
suddenly my laughter was interrupted. The arm hovering over
me was abruptly around me instead, and I found myself being
pulled up against a large male body.
"That's quite amusing," the Flower said, and I could
almost have sworn he was taking my remarks personally.
"Isn't it fortunate, then, that I didn't consult a King's Fighter,
Now that I have you in my arms, I'm to kiss you."
To be entirely accurate he only had me in one arm just
then, but he took care of that by sliding the other under me
before lowering his head. What he didn't take care of was the
blanket between us, but I wasn't about to point that out to
him. Even in that deep a darkness he had excellent aim, his
lips coming down right on top of mine, but after a moment or
two he raised his head again.
"Perhaps I'm mistaken, but shouldn't there be some re-
sponse to the kiss from you?" he asked, his voice almost
more annoyed than questioning. "I'm certain I was told
something about a response."
"You mean you were told to expect a response during
rape?" 1 asked in turn, trying to keep the satisfaction out of
my voice. "I suppose that's logical since the advice came
from fighters; they usually can't get a woman any other
way. But I thought you said this was your experiment?
And 1 thought you also understood I have no interest in it?"
"From what I was told you must have an interest in it, or I
might as well end my efforts now," he returned, the annoy-

180
Sharon Green
ance somehow hardening his voice. "Is that what you want?
To put all effort aside until our wedding night?"
"None of this was my idea, you mistake of Evon," I
growled, moving against the arms he still had around me. "If
I can't get interested it's not my fault, it's yours. Or didn't
your very capable teachers tell that to their little virgin?
Unless you expect me to do the raping, raising my interest is
your job. If you're not up to it, shame on you."
As a reason for my lack of response that wasn't half bad,
and it kept him quiet for a moment as he thought about it. I
had to make his failure no one's fault but his own, nothing
that / contributed to, or else he'd never voice his refusal to
the marriage once we got back. For that same moment of his
silence I thought he had decided to give up, but apparently
Evon's luck was shining elsewhere.
"It seems I owe you an apology, my lady," he said at last,
his voice not only back to where it had been, but smooth as
steel on top of that. "I was indeed told that eliciting a
response from a female was mine to do, but the matter had
slipped my mind. Perhaps we'd best begin with that."
He released me enough to let me lie back flat on the
blankets, then his reaching hand found the one still covering
me and threw it aside. Rather than having forgotten about that
blanket it seemed as though he'd been waiting for the proper
time to remember it, and for some reason that very simple,
very familiar gesture made me gasp.
"Now, now, my lady," he scolded gently when I tried to
go after my cover, pressing me just as gently back down
again. "You don't want me thinking you're not trying, do
you? You're clothed in darkness, so the cover isn't necessary.
Now let me see, what was the first thing I was supposed to
do? Oh, yes . . ."
This time his lips came to my body and throat, warm, soft
lips that lingered only briefly before moving on. Losing my
cover like that had upset me, as much as if someone had
taken my mail just before battle, and now his kissing was
making it worse. It wasn't as if I had any real need of the
cover, or that I thought I might respond to him; it was just
that I didn't like having all that done to me—when I didn't
want it done—by someone like him—
"My dear lady, you really must relax those muscles," he

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER
181
murmured, kissing my face and ear before returning to my
throat. "You surely can't be frightened of me?"
"Afraid of you?" I scoffed, moving my face to keep him
away from it. "If there's anything I'm afraid of, it's dying of
boredom or old age. Or maybe both. Can't you hurry it up a
little?"
"I've been told that hurrying never pays," he said in that
same murmur, and then his hand began to stroke my left side,
"if you're not afraid of me, prove it by kissing me."
"But I don't want to k—" 1 began, then lost the rest of the
protest when his lips covered mine. 1 tried to turn my face
away again but somehow the fingers of his left hand had
become entangled in my hair, and I couldn't move my head.
At the same time his right hand slid over my breast, feeling
nothing like the soft, pudgy hand I could just remember from
somewhere, even though I'd expected it to feel the same. By
what was probably pure accident his fingers moved in that
special way I'd only felt once or twice before, and suddenly I
found that I was actually kissing him back! A Flower, and I
was kissing him!
The thought made me frantic enough to begin struggling,
but the heat flashing through me was very distracting. I
couldn't quite remember how long it had been since I'd last
had a man, but it had obviously been much too long. My
right hand pushed at the chest it rested on and my left went to
the fingers on my breast, but neither effort did what I wanted
it to. The lips on mine kept coaxing me for even more
response, and the hand left my breast to slide down between
my thighs. I moaned at what that touch did to me and tried to
gasp, and then suddenly I couid.
"My poor lady, has my clumsiness upset you?" he asked,
the words so soft they felt like caresses instead. "You must
bear with me, my sweet lady, for I attempt no more than
what you asked of me. If you haven't the strength to accept
it, you need only say so and I'll certainly stop."
"Me, not have the strength to stand anything you can do?"
I panted, holding tight to his arm to keep from shivering.
"That'll be the day. Just remember when none of this works
out that / didn't do anything to interfere with the experiment."
"I'll be sure to remember that," he said, sounding as
though he wanted to chuckle. "And what do you think of this

182
Sharon Green
particular technique? I'm told by Frask that most men find it
extremely effective.''
The only answer I could give him was another gasp, the
moan only just letting itself be swallowed. 1 couldn't under-
stand why I was reacting that way, as though I were being
touched by a real man, but as upsetting as the thought of his
being a Flower was, it wasn't enough to turn me disinterested
again. In spite of everything I was nearly on fire, and I didn't
realize that my hand was moving from his arm to his shoulder
and back again, until he did chuckle.
"Yes, you definitely aren't doing anything to interfere with
the experiment," he murmured, beginning to kiss me again.
"Shall we see where we might go to from here?"
He couldn't have been expecting an answer in words, as he
immediately saw to it that I couldn't give one. I kept trying to
remember that I wasn't supposed to respond to him, and I
actually did hold out longer than I thought was humanly
possible. After that I discovered I was feeling rather than
thinking, and what I was feeling couldn't be stood any longer.
I clawed at his back with my nails until he'd entered me, and
then it was nothing but sensation without end.
* * *
Kylin lay in the blankets, very satisfyingly exhausted, his
arms still around the sleeping girl. No, not "the girl," he
thought, Sofaltis, the woman who would soon be his wife.
She'd been as wild and responsive as he'd expected her to be,
as deeply satisfying a mate as he could have hoped for—once
he'd gotten around her understandable reluctance. He chuck-
led softly and leaned down to put his lips to the forehead he
could only see as a dark shadow, wishing he could have built
up the fire instead of letting it die, and also have left the
stable lamp lit. He had wanted to see her as he made love to
her, but that way she would have been able to see him as
well—without his artfully made clothing. She had been suspi-
cious and difficult enough without that, and it had kept him
from needing to explain where the fat had gone and the
muscle had come from.
He grinned into the darkness at that, remembering how she
had almost outmaneuvered him, coming up with that sugges-

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER
183
tion about a night house. He'd had to do some fast thinking to
counter her, and had almost lost it again when she'd gotten
him mad. He'd heard those comments about King's Fighters
before from Blades, but those other times he'd been lucky
enough to have the Blades be men—and he hadn't had any
interest in making love to them. Once that charade was over
and she was his wife, he'd have to remind her about what
she'd said—and tell her what he would do*about it if she ever
said it again—
Sofaltis stirred in his arms and made a soft, sleepy sound,
then snuggled up to him to get more comfortable. Awake, she
probably would have denied vehemently that she was the
snuggling sort, but that was the way Kylin liked her best. He
tightened his arms around her just a little, knowing he would
have to come up with something good if he was to have any
hope of enjoying her again, and closed his eyes to get some
sleep of his own.

Chapter 8
I came out of what felt like a very long, very refreshing sleep
and stretched, then lay still in the blankets for a moment—
until I remembered what had happened the night before. I sat
up fast then, looking around the cave by the early morning
light streaming in through the entrance, but the Flower was
nowhere to be seen. Flower. I lay back and put my hand over
my eyes, trying not to groan in too loud a voice. I wanted to
believe I'd imagined the whole thing, but 1 was very much
afraid I hadn't. If that was what all virgin Flowers were like,
I couldn't understand why night houses didn't have them in
chains, offering their use to the highest bidders. Possibly
later, if I could do it anonymously, I'd make the suggestion
myself—
"Ah, good morning, my lady," a sober, too-familiar voice
said, bringing me back to a world I really didn't want to be
in. "I trust you slept well. Would you care for something to
break your fast before we begin the day's journey?"
"I find I have very little appetite this morning," 1 an-
swered, moving my hand so that I might see him. "I may be
mistaken, but you don't look to have much of one yourself.
What's the matter, couldn't you sleep after all that activity?"
"Please, my lady, 1 would prefer that you didn't mock
me," he said, turning his head away with the same sober air
I'd noticed a moment earlier. "I'm well aware of the fact that
you upheld your end of the bargain, but I—couldn't quite
manage what was required for too long a time. 1 think—
perhaps—that if it should happen again—my course will be
clear—"
His sigh of disappointment was so unexpected I sat up and
184

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER
185
blinked, wondering what he could possibly be talking about.
The night before had been well beyond anything I might have
imagined, and his staying power had been little short of
incredible—oh. So that was it. He didn't know the difference
between staying power and being unable to finish what he'd
started, so he was seriously considering giving up on the idea
of marriage! Suddenly the new day became*much brighter for
me, and I discovered an interest in continuing on with life.
"How terrible it must have been for you," I commiser-
ated, trying my best to match his sigh as 1 sat up. "Even
though you ignored my warning, I'm sorry you had to go
through that. We'll talk about it again later, and maybe by
then you'll understand why trying it a second time will only
bring you greater disappointment. Right now I think I will
have something to eat—as soon as you give me what there is
to wear."
"But—my dear lady Sofaltis—I thought you understood,"
he said, looking back at me with surprise. "You already have
all there is to wear. I left your father's castle in such haste,
that the only clothing I brought with me is what I have on my
back. Surely you don't believe I would have stayed in these
filthy rags had I had any choice in the matter."
"No, I don't suppose you would have," I grudged, realiz-
ing he had to be telling the truth. "But that doesn't do
anything to solve my problem. If you think I'm going to
continue walking around naked, you're out of your mind."
"I certainly would not expect any such thing," he an-
swered, huffy and just short of being insulted. "You'll re-
main wrapped in that blanket, I'll hold you in front of me on
my horse, and before you know it you'll be home. I'll fetch
what's left of the rabbit."
"You do that," I muttered under my breath as he turned
and went back outside, then looked down in disgust at what
my wardrobe would consist of for the next couple of days.
The dimness of the cave made it difficult to tell, but the
blanket seemed to be an unrelieved brown, and too close to
fighter brown for me to like it even a little. No clothes, no
weapons, no horse—and my only companion a Flower who
didn't know the difference between success and failure. If I
managed to get home without going stark, raving mad, I'd
find whoever was responsible for putting me into that mess,

186
Sharon Green
and explain very slowly exactly how I felt about it. Very
slowly, with the help of my boot knife.
Needless to say, the dim day that had suddenly turned
beautiful had dimmed again, but I still ate what was left of
the rabbit before we went out of the cave. The sun shone
down on a horse almost completely packed for travel, the
only thing left unpacked being the blanket I'd been lying on.
Lord Kylin the Flower followed me out of the cave folding
that, knowing damned well / couldn't do it. I was having
enough trouble keeping my own blanket around me and off
the ground to have any hands free for folding, and in the
mood I was in even someone who could actually use the
sword the Flower wore would have hesitated over asking for
my help.
While I'd been eating the rabbit I'd been told "our" horse
had been kept the night in the next cave over, and had already
been watered and allowed to graze that morning before I
awoke. I know I said something complimentary about all that
work having been done so early; although I couldn't remem-
ber what it was, my companion developed a pleased look that
didn't fade.
Once outside, my other blanket was tied behind the saddle,
and then the Flower mounted "our" horse. I was already
wondering how / would get up there without losing my
wardrobe, when my companion rode close and reached down
to me.
"And now for you, my lady," he said, and then there were
two arms wrapped around me and lifting! I barely had time
for a yelp before I was settled sideways on the saddle in front
of him, his right arm circling my back, his left hand using the
reins to calm the dancing of our mount. His chuckling seemed
to indicate amusement at my reaction, but amusement wasn't
what / was feeling.
"How in Evon's sharpest hell did you do that?" I de-
manded, looking directly at him. "I've known men who
couldn't take me off my feet when they stood facing me! I'm
not small and I'm not light, so I'd like to know how you did
that!"
"Have—ah—there really been those who had difficulty in
lifting you?" he asked, too occupied with getting us moving
in the proper direction to meet my eye. "Forgive me for

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER
187
saying so, but I find that difficult to believe. I experienced a
good deal more hardship yesterday, when I needed to lift
your unconscious body. Ah, and there's the road."
There, also, was a very convenient end to the answering of
my question, which I couldn't help noticing hadn't been
answered at all. I looked ahead through the trees to where the
road could be seen, no longer pressing the point but not about
to forget about it. Something very strange was going on, and
I was determined to discover what.
Considering the double burden our mount carried, our
progress along the road wasn't terribly swift. Hours of plod-
ding went by with not enough miles being put behind us, and
to add to that there wasn't a single sign of an inn. When I
asked my companion about the last inn he'd passed coming
from the castle, he made some vague reference to one he'd
seen halfway through the first day of travel. It would have
helped if that was the highway I'd taken from the north; then
I would have known what was where. Since it wasn't I had
no idea what was ahead, and my companion's reassurances
weren't reassuring me.
It wasn't far from noon when he turned off the road to the
left, into a pleasant, pretty meadow with a thick stand of trees
on the far side of it. I had brought my arms out from under
the blanket to keep from sweltering, but that was the only
positive thing I'd been able to accomplish. My thoughts had
pushed and shoved at the mystery surrounding my compan-
ion, but I couldn't get around the fact that I knew too little.
He was "taken" with me when he shouldn't have been, he
had chased after me when he shouldn't have, he was a good
deal better in bed than any virgin had the right to be, and he
was a lot stronger than average. That had to make him the
strangest Flower who ever lived, or someone who was only
pretending to be a Flower. I couldn't see what he would get
out of a pretense like that, unless—
Unless he was in league with my father's enemies.
How did I know he'd just happened along, right after I'd
escaped from the ones who had taken me? Wasn't that the
least little bit farfetched? I knew for certain that we were
moving south, so that should mean he really was taking me
home. Did he intend pressing for rescuer's rights, along with
demanding an immediate wedding ceremony? The very next

188
Sharon Green
day he'd be my father's heir, with nothing standing between
him and the Duchy but my father's life. Was he really the son
of Duke Trame of Arthil, or was he someone else entirely?
"This seems an adequate spot to leave you for a short
while," his voice came suddenly, almost startling me. "I'll
take myself into the woods there, and hopefully find some-
thing we may lunch on. The horse will remain with you, to
rest and grazed while I hunt."
"So you're going to hunt," 1 observed, looking around to
see that we'd nearly reached the stand of trees. All the way to
the right and beyond, through a place where the trees thinned
a little, I could see what was probably a farmhouse. The trees
stretched on a good distance before it became open spaces
again, and someone with a bow like the one tied to the left of
the saddle would likely find any number of luncheon targets.
"Well, what I mean to do is attempt to hunt," he answered
with apology oozing out of every word as he pulled our
mount to a halt. "It's been some years since the last time I
did so, but the episode with the rabbits has given me encour-
agement. I'll wager I return with birds at the very least."
"Your enthusiasm and belief are positively uplifting," I
told him with a smile, watching as he dismounted from
behind me. "But you must be stiff from having my weight
leaning against your legs for all those hours, and my hunting
skills are a good deal more recently practiced. Your tunic is
long enough to cover most of me, so if you'll lend it to me
for a while I'll do the hunting. If anything happens to show,
there won't be anyone about to shock but the animals."
"You want me to lend you my tunic," he said with an
odd expression as he looked up at me, making no effort to
help me down from the saddle. "But if I do, what will I
wear?"
"Are you afraid of freezing to death?" I asked with a
snort, having already noticed the fresh sweat-stains on the
tunic in question. "Or are you too modest to show what you
have hidden underneath? If it's modesty that's bothering you,
I'll lend you my blanket and promise not to peek. And you
really ought to give that sword to someone who knows how
to use it."
"My dear lady, this is all quite out of the question," he
protested, then moved forward fast to catch me when 1 delib-

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER
189
erately began sliding myself out of the saddle. "And you
should have waited for me to assist you to the ground. / am
the man of our party, and I mean to act like it. 1 find I've had
my fill of being cared for in life, and will from now on be the
master of my own fate!"
The dedicated and determined look on his face would have
been amusing enough to smile at—if it didn't mean he'd just
refused to do everything I'd asked. I'd been wondering why
there hadn't been anything for me to wear, and now it seemed
1 knew: as long as I was wrapped in a blanket, I couldn't take
off on my own—or adequately use a weapon.
"Well, then, how about simply lending me the tunic?" I
asked, just to test my theory a bit further. "Baring your chest
should be a manly enough thing to do, even if you are
nothing but flab under there. And if you're all that interested
in further experimentation, maybe 1 ought to say, 41 will if
you will.' "
I gave him the sort of grin night house girls are taught, just
to see what would happen, and was immediately pleased I
was watching him so carefully. His light gaze flickered down
to where my hands moved the blanket teasingly, no more
than normal interest showing briefly, and then he was sud-
denly stiffening in very obvious embarrassment.
"My lady, please, this is the middle of the day!" he
protested, and if he could have I think he would have blushed.
"What's more, anyone could come along to see us! Just
because a thing is proper between a man and his betrothed,
doesn't mean it's proper everywhere and at any time. You
will remain in that blanket and I will retain my tunic, and
we'll have no more talk of such a nature."
His huffing was really very well done, but unfortunately
for him I now knew better than to believe it. What I needed
to do was get my hands on his sword, and then there would
be no problem with the tunic. It would be stained red and
have a tear in it, but that couldn't be considered a problem.
"You're absolutely right about there being too much talk,"
I said with a smile, opening the blanket and letting it fall
artfully to the grass on either side of me. "What we really
want is less air and more action. See, I've started us off. Now
it's your turn, and I promise it won't hurt. You can trust me
to be gentle."

190
Sharon Green
By then I was already advancing on him, my hands out
toward his swordbelt, just as though I had no interest in it
other than as something to be gotten out of our way as soon
as possible. His eyes went briefly startled just before he
began backing away, but the startlement had more annoyance
in it than desperation, and his retreat seemed more reluctant
than determined. To add to it, he hadn't even tried turning
away in reaf embarrassment. I'd been looked at by men
before, and if he wasn't enjoying what he was seeing, I'd eat
my boots—as soon as 1 got them back.
"Really, my lady, I must protest!" he tried as he backed,
holding one hand up as though to keep me away. "You know
how unsure of myself I am, 1 couldn't possibly bring myself
to—to—in broad daylight—and—"
I was sure he was just about to plead the disability of an
old battle wound, but he never got the chance. Without any
previous warning that we weren't alone, four men burst out
of the trees not far from us and came running toward us,
shouting*and waving their swords. From their ragged and
filthy appearance they had to be bandits, and I had already
reached for my hilt before remembering I didn't have one!
Having no other choice I turned to the Flower, intending to
take his weapon whether he liked it or not, and only then
discovered I was far too late.
For a Flower, his reflexes were excellent. He must have
drawn the instant he saw the attackers, and with four of them
he wasn't waiting for them to get to him. The shouting they
were doing was supposed to intimidate their intended victims,
but my shy, delicate companion was moving toward them
instead of away, and the way he held his sword in his fist
didn't seem to indicate he was after conversation. The first of
the four, without realizing it, had pulled out slightly ahead of
the others, and when gentle Lord Kylin the Flower reached
him, my companion blocked a thrust then cut him down
without even slowing.
"Baste and broil it!" I muttered under my breath as the
following three slowed and stopped, no longer quite as eager
to reach their "victim." I'd never expected to see the day
when I stood around doing nothing while my enemy hogged
all the fun for himself, but there 1 was! And not only weapon-
less but naked! The three had sent a lot of attention in my

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER
191
direction when they'd first come charging out, but right then
they were too busy thinking about their lives to do anything
but back away with swords held out in front of them. Seeing
that I began to move forward, heading for the bandit on the
ground. Even if his clothes turned out to be too grimy to put
on, a little dirt never hurt a sword.
And then I heard the sound of hooves behind me, com-
bined with a wild and mocking yell. I threw a quick look
over my shoulder then dived to my left, just in time to avoid
the arm of the bandit who was leaning down from the saddle
of our horse, trying to scoop me up off the ground as he
galloped past. I cursed my reflexes even as I roiled, realizing
too late that I should have let him capture me just long
enough for me to get my hands on his dagger. I came to a
stop in the grass and twisted around— soon enough to see my
clever companion give up on chasing the horse and its rider into
the woods. And while he'd had his attention elsewhere, the three
he'd had right in front of him had gathered up the remains of
their dead fourth and were also disappearing into the woods!
"Wonderful," I muttered as I climbed to my feet. "Just
wonderful." Then, when the great warrior and his sword had
gotten close enough to hear, added, "That has to be the most
slipshod defense I've ever seen in my entire life. You had
them, and you let them get away! Why didn't you add me
and your purse into the bargain just to make it perfect?"
"1 was about to charge the first three when the last of them
started after you!" he protested, and this time his skin did
darken just a little. "If you hadn't jumped when you did, my
purse would have been the only thing left out here! And if
that horse had been carrying double again, I would have
reached it before it reached the woods."
" 'Would have, could have, should have,' " I said, mak-
ing it sound the way armsmasters usually did. " 'If words
like that had edges and points, every fool on two feet would
be Evon himself.' Next time leave the heroics to someone
who has already passed the bumbling stage."
"1 would have, but there wasn't anyone like that around,"
he came back, straightening as he looked down at me. "You
know what they say about Blades—you can trust your back to
one, and never have to worry. They don't have enough skill
for backstabbing."

192
Sharon Green
"And how would you know what they say about Blades?"
I returned immediately, delighted that he'd fallen into my
trap. "You, the delicate, sheltered virgin who can barely
handle himself in a conversation—and who swings a sword
like the captain of a Company. And don't look now, but
you've lost your cultured accent."
1 was in a foul^ough mood not to care what his reaction
to the revelation would be, but I couldn't help noticing how
odd that reaction was. Rather than showing guilt he groaned,
and then he got mad.
"Damn those fools and their weak-kneed attacks," he
growled, turning to glare at the woods as he wiped his blade
on his once-pretty trousers, then sheathed it with a slam. "If
they'd minded their own business and stayed where they
belonged, this wouldn't have happened."
"It was about to happen anyway," I told his back, even
more annoyed by his oddness. "I'm not quite as stupid as
you apparently think I am. Who are you, and what do you
expect to get out of all this?"
"Who am I," he echoed, turning back to look at me with
thoughtfulness rather than anger, not far from a sigh. "I'm
exactly who I said I was, Kylin of Arthil, and what I expect
to get out of this is a wife—preferably one who's still in one
piece. Or have you forgotten we're betrothed?"
"Back in the Silver Gleaming, they say I never forget
anything," I remarked, folding my arms. "Like the fact that
Kylin of Arthil is supposed to be a Flower. And was a
Flower, until just a few minutes ago. Would you like to
explain where that fits in?"
"Not particularly," he answered, looking like he meant it,
then put his hands out palms up and toward me. "All right,
don't start getting ready to attack, I was only joking. The
truth of the matter is I can't tell you about everything that's
involved, but I can tell you this: my masquerade was for the
purpose of protecting someone very close to you. No one was
supposed to know the truth until after the ceremony was over,
but you're not the only one who's found out. All we can do
now is get back to your father's castle as fast as possible,
then go on with the marriage immediately and hope every-
thing turns out all right."
"Oh, is that all we can do," I said with raised brows, then

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER
193
looked him up and down before deliberately turning my back.
"It's really odd, but 1 can think of quite a number of other
things, and frankly, any one of them is more appealing
than—Evon dip and pepper them! They've even taken my
blanket!"
"What's the matter, are you afraid you'll freeze?" the
idiot asked from behind me as I glared around at the empty
grass. "If you'd kept the thing around you instead of trying
to be provocative, you might not have lost it."
"If not for your nonsense in pretending to be a Flower, I
wouldn't have had to try being provocative," I came back,
turning again to give him the complete benefit of my glare.
"And if I recall correctly, you're also the legendary hero who
even let a dead bandit get away from him. What do you
expect me to do now, O great one? Walk back to my father's
castle naked?"
"That might not be a bad idea," he said, folding his arms
as he let those light eyes move slowly over me. "I'm one of
those who usually enjoy sight of the countryside, but noth-
ing's so perfect that it can't use a little dressing up—or, in
this case, undressing. Once we put enough distance between
us and those bandits, we'll also be able to put your suggestion
of less talk and more action into practice. And don't forget—
you promised to be gentle with me."
His faint grin was as bold and forward as someone else's
laughter would have been, as far from the horrified innocence
of his Flower character as it was possible to get. My hands
curled to fists at my sides as my cheeks warmed and 1 felt the
urge to pull a cover over me again, and I still couldn't
understand why it was happening. Whether or not he was
Kylin of Arthil, he was certainly no friend to me and mine,
no matter what new story he had suddenly come up with. Of
course his masquerade had been for the benefit of someone
close to me, and of course there was nothing better for me to
do than marry him immediately. Well, whether he knew it or
not, there was a way I could find answers I liked a bit better.
"If you're that much in need of gentle handling, you'll
have to pay for it," I said, hopefully showing nothing of
what I was planning. "Despite your obviously twisted sense
of humor, I have the feeling you're no longer desperate to

194
Sharon Green
hang onto that tunic. Hand it over, or negotiations concerning
gentleness are finished before they get started/'
"I can see I'm going to have to spend some time teaching
you how to ask politely for the things you want," he said,
still amused but already reaching down to open his swordbelt.
"An occasional 'please' and 'thank you' will do wonders,
something you'll leaj*r as the years go by."
As the years w^nt by with him, he meant. I folded my
arms and said nothing as he dropped that red swordbelt to the
grass at his feet, part of his attention on the woods to be sure
the bandits weren't waiting to come racing out again as soon
as he was partially disarmed. I pretended to be watching the
woods too, but what I was really waiting for was the time his
tunic was pulled completely over his head. That was when I
intended showing him exactly how many years we would
have together—or possibly minutes, which might be a more
accurate measurement. However long it turned out to be,
though, he definitely would not be enjoying it.
A delicately jeweled belt with pouch and sheathed dagger
was also around his waist, and as soon as that was off he
reached for the bottom of the tunic. Raising it showed me
why he'd been so desperate earlier to protect his virtue—
despite the convincing suggestion of the pleated cloth, there
wasn't an ounce of fat on the body it covered. The tunic went
up higher, showing more of the same—and then it was over
his face, the moment I'd been waiting for. Without the least
hesitation, I jumped for the sword lying unguarded in the grass.
I had gone to one knee and actually had my hand around
the awful silver hilt, beginning to draw the blade free, when
two arms wrapped around me from behind. If I'd been stand-
ing I would have been able to kick back, but down in a
position like that I was virtually helpless. His right hand went
to my right wrist and his left hand to the sword, and then it
was gone out of my grasp as though a priest of Dagir had
waved his wand.
"I can also see we're going to have to have a long talk
about touching things that don't belong to us," he said,
straightening away from me with both sword and swordbelt in
his hand. "I told you before that this weapon is mine, and
I'm keeping it whether or not you think I can use it. You're
lucky I hurried getting that tunic off, to be sure those bandits

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER
195
didn't decide to attack again. If I'd had to do more to get my
sword back than simply taking it away from you, you wouldn't
have enjoyed it."
Lucky, I thought in disgust as I rose to my feet, rubbing at
my right wrist. I hadn't had one bit of decent luck since I'd
gotten my father's letter, and if he was stupid enough to think
I was enjoying myself then, he was completely beyond hope.
The only bit of fortune involved was that he didn't seem to
know why I'd been trying for the sword. That would have
been enough to give me another chance at it—if I hadn't
suddenly become sick and tired of playing games.
"Long talks bore me," was all I said as I went toward the
tunic he'd dropped in the grass and retrieved it. I didn't think
it necessary to add that what I usually did with an enemy had
nothing to do with talk. The tunic was more than well-worn
and was still damp with his sweat, but I pulled it on anyway,
then tugged the sleeves up. If my arms and hands were
completely lost in the thing, my legs weren't, but it still fit
well enough to be an adequate, if rather hot, covering. Once
it was on and adjusted as well as it ever would be, I turned
and started walking toward the road.
"Hey, where do you think you're going!" I heard from
behind me, and the next moment a big hand had closed
around my arm, bringing me to a halt. "This isn't the time or
the place for wandering off."
"You won't often find me engaged in wandering," I an-
swered, pulling my arm out of his grip before looking up into
his face. "I'm in a hurry to get home, so I'm heading back to
the road. When I reach that inn you can't quite remember the
location of, I ought to be able to get some decent clothes and
a horse. I hope you don't freeze without the tunic."
Once again I started off, certain I'd made it clear I had no
interest in his company, but keeping me company wasn't
what he had in mind. The next instant his hand was on my
arm again, and this time I found I couldn't pull away.
"That inn is much too far away to do either of us any
good," he said, a casual statement as he began forcing me
with him through the grass, parallel to the trees now on our
left. "When we first rode into this meadow I saw a farm-
house off to the right, beyond those trees. We'll try that first,
and leave the inn as a last resort."

196
Sharon Green
"You can do it any way you please," 1 said, trying to free
my arm from a hand that circled it completely. "I'll be taking
the road, and when I want your opinion? I'll ask for them.
Now, let go of me!"
"I'll let go of you as soon as you promise to behave
yourself," he said, paying more attention to the woods than
to what he dragged ajotfg with him. "If you feel the need to
sulk over not getting your way with the sword, you won't be
doing it on the road. There's no way of knowing who you'll
meet on that road, and being disarmed and on foot will either
end you up back with those people you walked away from, or
taken by some enterprising band to be sold eventually as a
slave. And even if you managed to avoid all that, I still have
what gold there is. How did you expect to get clothes and a
horse at an inn without gold?"
"That's my business!" I snapped, mad enough to really
begin struggling. The nerve of him, an enemy, trying to tell
me what to do! I was being pulled along by the left arm,
which meant his sword was slung on the far side of him, but
that also meant my right arm was free. The day I let an
enemy give me orders would be the day I put on skirts and
stayed in them, and I happened to hate skirts. Instead of
continuing to pull back I ran a few steps forward, then
pivoted to throw my fist into him where it would do the most
damage.
If that blow had landed right it would have been all over
for him for quite some time, but his reflexes were better than
just about any I'd ever seen. His leg came up even as he
twisted to the left, and my fist slammed into a rock-hard thigh
instead of the portion of his anatomy I'd been aiming for. The
next instant I was being whirled the rest of the way around to
complete the circle, and an enormous whack to the backside
sent me sprawling face forward into the grass. I managed not
to yelp at the stinging slap that had landed mostly on bare
flesh, but when I turned in the grass to glare at the outrageous
beast, I found he'd beaten me to that as well.
"Now I know why you're having so much trouble behav-
ing yourself," he said in a growl, fists on his hips as he
stared down at me. "It's obvious no one's taken the trouble
to teach you how it's done, but that's all over with. From
now on the job is mine, and I'll see that it's done right. I said

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER
197
we're going that way, and if you don't like the idea you can
tell me about it later—in words. If you try jumping at me
again, you'll regret it more than you do right now. Let's go."
If he had stood there and simply ordered me to my feet, I
would have stayed where I was until Evon's razor-edged hell
turned dull and crumbling. He seemed to know that, though,
which was undoubtedly why he came forward with the last of
his words to put a fist in my hair. That took me to my feet
without giving me a choice in the matter, and then I was
being pushed ahead of him, in the direction he wanted to go.
As I stumbled forward I cursed everything I could think of for
making him so big, a circumstance which put me at a com-
plete disadvantage. If I'd been armed his size would have
made very little difference, as I had experience countering
greater strength and longer reach; without weapons, however,
I had almost no chance at all against him, and would have to
wait. Just until I did have a weapon in my hand, I promised
myself grimly, rubbing briefly at the sting in my bottom.
The walk was not a short one, and once we left the heat
and brightness of the meadow to move through the cooler
shade of the thinned-out trees, my feet began protesting the
lack of boots. I wasn't used to going barefoot like a carefree
country child, and the fact that I disliked it was considerably
less important than the fact that it hurt. Twigs and stones and
sharp objects from the trees we moved under slowed my pace
to one careful step at a time, and that, unfortunately, brought
me to the notice of my gallant companion.
"Wait a minute," he said from where he walked behind
me, putting a hand to my shoulder. "The farmhouse is well
in sight, and the trees are too far apart in this area for us to
need to worry about an ambush. Let's make this a little faster
and easier."
With that he leaned down and picked me up, acting as
though it took no more effort than lifting the empty tunic
would have! I clutched at his neck convulsively, totally un-
used to that sort of handling, but once it was clear he wasn't
about to immediately drop me again, I loosened my hold and
glared at the face that was now so close.
"I don't need any favors from you," I grated, hating the
gentle, easy way he held me. "If you want me to move faster
I'll do it, and without any help from you. You know damned

198
Sharon Green
well if you'd asked I would have refused, so put me down
right now!"
"That's why I didn't ask," he returned, ignoring every-
thing else as he moved along. "1 don't want you crippled, so
until we can find you something for your feet, we'll do it this
way."
End of conversation, I would have enjoyed asking what he
had in mind that keneeded me uncrippled for, but he proba-
bly would have lied and it didn't matter in any event He
would not find me cooperating with anything he intended, not
when it was my family who would suffer if I did. He could
carry me to Evon's Realm and back, and even that would not
change my mind.
It took a while to get close enough to the farmhouse to
really see it, and by then there was very little doubt that it
was empty. There were still a few chickens scratching around
in the yard, but one of the barn doors stood open and the
house was beginning to need whitewashing even though its
own door was solidly closed. The supposed Kylin of Arthil
finally put me down, then loosened his sword in its scabbard.
"You stay here while I look around inside," he said,
briefly eyeing the bam. "If anyone shows up call me fast, but
otherwise don't move from that spot. With the way your feet
are you won't get very far, and you won't like it if 1 have to
come after you."
He said his piece, then drew his sword and moved toward
the house, not even bothering to glance in my direction. It
apparently made no difference to him how furious he got me,
or that I didn't need him to point out how little distance I
could cover on foot. He had done such a good job that I was
hoping hard we'd stumbled on the home camp of those
bandits and that they would attack as soon as he opened the
door, but no such luck. He kicked the door open then jumped
inside without anything happening, and the following lack of
the sound of steel on steel told me nothing probably would. I
waited a moment until my hopes were completely dashed,
then took myself inside out of the sun.
As soon as my eyes had adjusted to the inner dimness, I
was able to tell that the former occupants of the house had
moved away rather than been chased off. The empty wooden
floor of the room showed traces of where a table and chairs

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER
199
had stood, and the hearth had been cleaned of the remnants of
the last fire it had held. I moved to the window in the
right-hand wall, unlatched it, then threw it wide to allow in
fresh air rather than the stale stuff the room was too full of.
With that done I turned back to find I was being regarded
with something less than friendliness.
"I always knew Sword Companies didn't do much of a job
teaching their Blades how to take orders," my sweet compan-
ion remarked from the doorway to the next room, resheathing
his sword. "You're living proof of that."
"Fighters who couldn't quite make the grade usually look
at it like that," I remarked back, totally unimpressed with his
annoyance. "To be a Blade you need to be able to think for
yourself, to know the difference between times it's necessary
to follow orders, and times when it isn't. 1 know the
difference."
"1 can see that," he said, the dryness of his tone suggest-
ing disagreement rather than concurrence. "When I give the
orders, you don't find any need to obey them even if disobey-
ing puts your life in danger. We're going to have some
trouble over that, aren't we?"
His question was closer to being a statement, showing he
had slightly more intelligence than I'd given him credit for,
but the way he was looking at me didn't quite have the effect
he was obviously hoping for. It wasn't difficult seeing he was
very used to having his orders obeyed, that hardness in his
light eyes undoubtedly helping to make it happen, but I was
too used to the displeasure of dangerous men to take much
notice of it any longer.
"I don't intend having trouble over anything," I answered
with a shrug, then sat down on the floor and leaned back
against the log wall under the window. "As I said before,
you're free to do as you like. Just let me know when you
discover we should have taken to the road after all. I want the
chance to say, T told you so.' "
"I hate disappointing you, but you won't be getting that
chance," he came back, moving into the middle of the room.
"This house will give us a place to stay for the night, and
those chickens outside will give us something to eat. I found
some leather in the next room, probably left behind because it
was badly tanned, but the bottoms of your feet won't know

200
Sharon Green
the difference. And on top of all the rest we'll have the
chance to talk here, something 1 think we need more than
food and shelter."
The look in his eyes had turned odd, but he was gone from
the room before I could decide just what the oddness entailed.
1 couldn't imagine what he wanted to talk about, unless he
intended being siHy^enough to threaten me. That would be
just like the cowardly vermin he and his associates were, but
if they were expecting to get anywhere with the tactic they
were in for disappointment.
He was back in just a few minutes with a double armload
of the chopped wood I'd seen stacked at the side of the
house, and part of the load went into the hearth to be lit by
the flame-starter in his belt pouch. I certainly expected to be
given chores of my own to do, and was surprised when I
didn't have to bother refusing. It occurred to me that in his
place I wouldn't have been too eager to eat anything I'd had a
chance at, and he was most likely looking at it in the same
way. He went outside again once the fire was well started,
and this time stayed out there for quite a while.
I didn't realize I'd fallen asleep until my eyes opened
again, showing me that darkness had come. I was stretched
out on my left side on the floor, and the brightness of the fire
in the hearth was enough to make me look away. I sat up
rubbing the back of my neck, wondering what could have
caused me to drop off like that, as though I were exhausted
after hours and hours of fighting. I couldn't remember being
more than very faintly weary, so it didn't make any sense.
"In case you're wondering, you still have to have traces of
the swamp mist in you," I was told, the words soft and easy.
"You'll know it's completely gone when you can sit down
for a few minutes without falling asleep."
I looked over to the left of the hearth from where his voice
had come, and saw him sitting down leaning against the wall,
the very edge of the fireglow touching him. So that was the
name of what had been used to put me out, swamp mist, and
wasn't it pure coincidence that he happened to know.
"You have to be hungry after not eating all day," he said,
moving slowly where he sat so as not to jostle whatever it
was 1 could just see in his lap. "Cat, here, and 1 have already

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER	201
had our meal, so what's left is yours. Wait just a minute and
I'll get it."
"Don't bother," I said before he could coax the cat he'd
mentioned out of his lap. "If I want something to eat, I'll get
it for myself."
I leaned back against the wall again, finding it not difficult
at all putting off the thought of eating. I wouldn't have taken
anything from him even if I'd been starving, but I wasn't
even really hungry. I decided I was feeling a little too vague
to be hungry, and let it go at that.
"All right, so our talk gets to come first," he said with a
sigh, lifting the cat out of his lap before rising and walking
over to sit again beside me to my right. "I doubt if anyone
can say we've been blending beautifully since the first time
we met, and it doesn't make much sense to let it go on like
this. I think we ought to try to be friends."
"And I think I'd rather pick my own friends," I answered,
not bothering to look at him. "I'm a big girl now, and I've
even learned to tell the difference between people I like and
those I don't. Guess which category you fall into."
"How many tries do I get?" he asked, sounding the least
bit tired. "Look, I know I was hard on you this afternoon,
but you have to understand that it's my responsibility to get
you safely home. If I'd let you half-cripple me because your
mood had soured, I'd hardly have been in a position to do
what I had to. Are you going to hold that against me for the
rest of our lives?"
"Possibly for the rest of yours," I allowed, watching the
flames jump in the hearth. "1 expect mine to be a good deal
longer—starting from the minute I get my hands on a weapon."
u\ don't believe I could have been disappointed at the
thought of having a shy and gentle woman for a wife," he
muttered, stirring where he sat. "I can tell you right now that
your attitude is going to dim the golden glow of our marriage
even before it's properly begun. How can 1 make you happy,
if all you're interested in is coming after me with a sword in
your hand and blood in your eye?"
"You can manage it by standing still," I answered with
satisfaction, feeling the pleasure of it in my imagination.
"And you can also stop worrying about something that will

202
Sharon Green
never happen. I wouldn't marry you even if you decided to
cut me down right now."
"Something like that would take the attraction out of our
wedding night," he said, his tone having gone dry again. "It
might make for a more pleasant time in later years, but at the
moment the idea doesn't have much appeal. And that would
be a good argument for my having lost interest in our be-
trothal. Why would-you think I'd want to end our betrothal?"
I felt enough annoyance at that to turn my head to look at
him, and found a very bland expression looking back at me
out of the dimness. It was clear he had a reason for wanting
me alive, but I didn't yet know what it was.
"What you want doesn't particularly matter," I said, dis-
liking the way those eyes gazed directly at me. "What I want
is more to the point, and 1 think I've made myself clear about
that. If you ever find anyone crazy enough to marry you, you
can be certain it won't be me."
"You seem to have a lot of trouble remembering that
you're promised to me," he observed, reaching out a big
hand to brush a strand of hair from my shoulder. "Your
father personally registered the match at Court, which means
he's responsible for producing my bride. If you refuse to go
through with it, he's the one who will have to face the
consequences."
"1 can face my own consequences!" I snapped, immedi-
ately even angrier as I tried to knock his hand away and
missed when he moved it fast out of my reach. "If I go to the
King and tell him I'm the one who refuses the match, he'll
have to leave my father alone."
"The Law won't allow King Klieant to leave your father
alone," he retorted, leaning away from the wall. "The Laws
were established in the first place to keep peace among the
nobility, since the breaking of a Ducal betrothal contract has
been known to lead to war between the duchies. Even if my father
doesn't press the matter, your father will spend years paying
off the fines involved, and that could very well be the least of
it. Most women aren't like you, Sofaltis, so there's no pro-
vision made for refusal on the part of the bride. If the wedding
doesn't take place, no one but your father will be blamed."
"But that's noX fair!" I shouted, throwing myself to my
feet to sti*ide to the fire. "It's my life and my decision, and

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER	203
I'll make the King see that even if i have to cut down every
haif-baked Fighter who tries to keep me from him!"
i stood in front of the hearth with my arms wrapped around
me, not against an outer chill but an inner one. 1 couldn't be
so completely trapped, I just couldn't be, it simply wasn't
fair! The man was an enemy, for Evon's sake! The Law
couldn't still demand that 1 marry him!*
"It might have been your decision if you'd been born a
peasant," his voice came from behind me, unbelievably sound-
ing sympathetic and compassionate. "As someone who was
nobly born, you have no more choice than the rest of us. I
agree that it isn't fair, but it's already done and nothing can
change that. And it could have been considerably worse. You
might have been bound to someone who had no interest in
you as an individual at all. I may not look like the best of all
possible mates right now, but I can certainly assure you my
interest isn't in any way lacking."
His hands came to my arms at that, stroking gently over
the tunic sleeves, just as though he were telling the truth. It
would have helped if he really was a friend rather than an
enemy, but other than that it made no difference at all. If 1
didn't cooperate, my father would be dishonored and ruined,
something he'd made very clear.
"If you're trying to make me believe I'm the only thing
you're interested in, you're wasting your time," I said, acting
as though I didn't notice his hands on me. "If not for what
comes along with me, your interest would undoubtedly be as
intense as most men's toward a female Blade. And if you
want to discuss convenient memory lapses, let's talk about
yours in relation to me. How much good will being my
father's heir do you if you have to put up with the sort of
married life I'm prepared to supply? And not only prepared,
but eager and willing?"
"What sort would that be?" he asked, his voice now wary
and his hands stilled. "I'm prepared to concede you quite a
lot of freedom, but there are certain things ..."
"Concede me?" I said with a short laugh, stepping away
from his hands and then turning to face him. "See what I
mean about your memory lapses? Why would I need any
freedom conceded to me, when 1 already have it all? I can
make you the biggest laughingstock in the entire Kingdom,

204
Sharon Green
and have fun every minute I'm doing it. You won't have to
worry about turning your back on me, because I won't wait
for your back to be turned. Every bit of it will be right out in
the open, where you—and everyone else— can see it."
"Now let's take it easy and discuss this calmly," he said
in response to my growing enthusiasm, trying not to sound as
worried as he undoubtedly was. "You're talking about doing
'everything' out in the open, but you know and 1 know there
are quite a lot of things you couldn't do without disgracing
your family as well as me. Since you'd never disgrace your
family, there aren't ..."
"Is that so?" I interrupted again, folding my arms and
smiling happily as I looked up at him. "You think I'd worry
about disgracing a family that was going to have you at its
head? I think the first thing I'll do is ride around to visit the
Counts and Barons—and challenge their chief Fighters after
insulting them personally. And of course I'll have very public
arrangements made with every night house in Gensea, to be
sure the ones I choose as my favorites will be available when
I want them. Drinking contests at the taverns, riding out with
the City Guard when there's nothing more interesting to do,
maybe even starting my own Sword Company ..."
"You can't possibly believe I'd stand still for all that," he
finally got out with a laugh of incredulity, a small change
from the blank disbelief he'd been showing. "Any man who
did stand for it would be an idiot, and I may be a lot of things
but that's not one of them."
"How would you stop me?" I asked, still smiling pleas-
antly. "Blade to blade in formal challenge? I'd be a widow
so fast it would make your head spin—right off your shoul-
ders into the dirt. What's the matter? Aren't you still hot and
eager to make me your wife?"
To say his expression had gone peculiar would be to
understate abysmally, and I wondered why I hadn't thought
of that before. Show him the Blade as well as the woman,
Traixe had said, and I'd forgotten all about it. If he was the
only one who could call the whole thing off, it was obviously
my job to see that he did—no matter what those behind him
wanted him to do instead.
"Sofaltis, I really don't know what to say," he managed
after a moment, the peculiar expression still with him. "I

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER	205
don't know why you're so dead set against being my wife,
but it must have something to do with the way all this started.
Don't you see you're blaming me for something that wasn't
my fault? If it had been up to me I would have told you
everything, but the choice wasn't mine. Others had the final
word, and you're holding it against me. You mentioned
fairness before; is that what you call fair?"
Those light eyes were directly on me, open and frank and
oddly vulnerable. If I hadn't known better I would have
almost believed him, would have almost been ashamed of
myself for not giving him any chance at all. The only thing
that ruined it for him was that I knew who those "others"
were, and I have very little sympathy for people who are
enemies to me and mine.
"That's funny, but I can't quite see them," I said, looking
him up and down in the firelight and even trying to peer
behind him. "1 wonder where they can be."
"They?" he repeated, back to looking blank as he glanced
down at himself. "What are you talking about? What is it
you're looking for?"
"I'm looking for the chains and the marks of the torture
'they' used to force you into going along with them," I
answered, standing still again as soon as he went for it.
"Since I can't seem to find any, I have to conclude that
they're very persuasive—or you're awfully easy to talk into
things. For your sake, 1 hope you're just as easy to talk out of
them—and that is what I call fair, as in warning."
"You know, I'm discovering there's a limit to any man's
patience," he said, his skin having darkened enough to notice
even in the firelight. "You're not hearing anything I say, and
not because you can't but because you won't. I've tried to be
understanding and reasonable, but your stubbornness goes
well beyond reason. Maybe I ought to simply say you'll do as
you're told, and leave it at that."
"You can leave it anywhere you please," 1 said with a
snort, still not terribly impressed. "For myself, I'll be taking
it—as far as I like. You can either kill me now, back out of
the marriage as soon as we return, or go through with it and
live a life you can't even begin to imagine. The Law says the
choice is yours and I'd never break the Law, so have fun
making your choice."

206
Sharon Green
"Who do you think you are, Evon's twin sister?" he asked
with exasperation, folding his arms as he stared down at me.
"You make it sound as if you think you're the best Blade
ever to have lived, and for some reason I tend to doubt that."
"I'm good enough to take you," I came back, meeting his
gaze with an evil grin. "And if you were that unsure about it,
you wouldn't have been so careful to 'doubt' me while 1 was
unarmed. How—discreet—of you."
"Why, you little twerp!" he growled, straightening as he
unfolded his arms. "You'll never see the day I back down
from a runt who's half mouth and all ego! Even if you had
Evon to stand behind, I could—"
He broke it off abruptly, just short of the challenge I'd
really been trying hard for, and put a hand to his face. He
muttered something into that hand, then took it away as he
shook his head.
"You almost made me do it," he said, this time staring at
me accusingly. "All I wanted to do was settle things peace-
ably, and you almost pushed me into a fight. What am I going
to do with you?"
"Absolutely nothing," I answered, staying with the ob-
noxiousness that seemed to bother him so much. "Especially
once I'm armed again. By then 1 don't doubt you'll be even
more interested in peace. Where did you say that chicken
was?"
Things had begun working out so well that my appetite had
suddenly returned. The man in front of me was just short of
being furious, and by the time I finished with him he'd be so
ready to challenge me that nothing would stop him. I'd be
sure that happened in front of enough witnesses to prove I
wasn't to blame, and that would be the end of my problems.
"The chicken's over there, in the corner of the hearth," he
said in a continuing growl, pointing behind me and to my
right. "You'll forgive me, I think, if I don't wish you a
hearty appetite."
With that he turned and stomped off, and that was it for the
rest of the night.

Chapter 9
By the time it was light enough out to see things easily, Kylin
had sufficient chicken cooked and wrapped to last them for a
short while, and had made a crude pair of sandals for the girl.
He had just enough leather left over for a second pair, which
would hopefully, along with the first pair, get them back to
her father's castle. If he had to carry her again he would, but
if he had the choice it would be to leave her on her own two
feet.
"To keep from getting knocked off my own feet," he
muttered to the cat that rubbed at his ankles, then he crouched
to scratch at a light gray head. The cat was gray, the new day
was starting off gray, and what sleep he'd managed to get the
night before had been filled with eyes of gray. He stared out
the open door without really seeing the yard, patiently wait-
ing for the swamp mist to let the girl wake up, not so
patiently trying to understand why things refused to work out
right between them. She had spent the night sleeping not five
feet away from him, and all he'd been able to do was dream
about her.
His sigh was easily the tenth that morning, and if he'd been
aware of it he would have felt disturbed. He'd never had so
much trouble with a woman before, and if she kept on
pushing at him the way she'd been doing, he'd end up
jumping into something they'd both regret. All he wanted to
do was hold her in his arms and let her know she'd never be
sorry she had to marry him, but all she wanted was to start
a fight. He was more than half tempted to let her do just that,
and then finish it in a way she would not soon forget. She
207

208
Sharon Green
was all but begging for it, and if he had any brains at all
he'd—
No. That was one thing he refused to do. She was the
woman who would become his wife, and if it made her happy
to believe she could best him with swords, let her keep on
believing it. She was so damned unhappy about everything
else he could almost feel her pain, and if he hadn't already
given his word to go through with becoming Duke Rilfe's
heir, he would probably get her home and then go back to
being a King's Fighter. She could be so bright and alive,
shining with Evon's glow—until he mentioned anything at all
about the marriage. If just once she would smile at him when
she wasn't threatening him with something—
"Don't you have anything better to do with your time than
play with a cat?" her voice came suddenly from behind him,
still sounding half asleep. "Like waking me up to let me
know the new day has started?"
"We have a lot of walking ahead of us today," he an-
swered without turning, still stroking the cat. "We'll cover
more distance if you start out well rested rather than tired.
We can leave as soon as you get your new sandals on."
"Then 1 guess we can leave," she said, not quite swallow-
ing a yawn. "I found them where you left them, and I
suppose they'll have to do. As adequate footgear, I'll grant
they're better than nothing."
But not much beyond that, he finished for her in his mind
as he straightened and turned. She stood just a few steps
beyond the cabin's bedchamber, trying to stretch the sleep
out of her body, the movement making the tunic ride up even
higher on her thighs. It occurred to him to wonder if she were
deliberately provoking him, and the hell of it was she very
well could be. She didn't seem to understand that if he
wanted to, he could carry her back into the bedchamber to
the abandoned grass-filled pad she'd slept on, and then take
complete satisfaction from her. To her that would be attack
calling for immediate and honorable challenge, an excellent
reason for starting another, more deadly fight. To everyone
else it would be no more than his due under betrothal rights
and her duty to provide, but he had no doubt she would not
be looking at it like that.
"I'll get our provisions," he said, leaving the doorway to

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER	209
walk to the hearth. He'd wrapped the chicken in an improvised
bag made from some sacking he'd found in the bam, the ends tied
in a sling that went over his left shoulder. He'd doused the
fire he'd built once he was through with it and had closed the
window they'd opened the day before, and that left nothing to
do but shut the door behind them. The girl stepped outside
ahead of him, and then the last of it was done.
"At least these 'sandals' will make walking back through
the woods easier," the girl grudged, raising one foot to give
critical inspection to what she wore. "As long as it's only
things on the ground that need to be worried about."
Kylin knew the girl meant the whole top of her foot was
uncovered except for the binding thongs, but he hadn't been
able to do any better than that. There had only been enough
leather to make doubled pads for the bottoms of her feet, the
thongs slid through slits cut in the bottom layer. The sandals
would last until the slits tore themselves completely open,
and after that it just might be possible to cut new slits without
having to use the last of the leather now tucked into the back
of his belt.
"I did the best I could," he said, glancing around at the
grayish day to feel less like an absolute failure. "Next time
arrange to be found by a cobbler."
"Look, I didn't mean to make you feel—" she began, a
blurting that had gotten away from her. She cut it off before it
grew into a real, live apology, and was immediately back to
the attitude that reminded him so much of the fighter who had
challenged him at the inn where he'd met his father. "There
are some people who are always doing the best they can.
Unfortunately for those around them, that's never quite good
enough. I'm assuming I get to lead out again."
She started off in the direction they'd come from, and for
an instant he was too startled to stop her. He'd had the
suspicion that she was giving him a hard time on purpose
rather than because she had the nature of a mountain witch,
and her near slip had confirmed it. She seemed to feel she
had to oppose him, and if he could just find out why, he
might be able to do something about it.
"You're half right," he said in answer, catching up in two
strides to take her by the shoulders and turn her. "You do get
to go first, but that's the way you'll be going. See that track

210
Sharon Green
out there? It goes in the same direction as the road, but won't
be as hard on your sandals—or as easy to watch by the people
who misplaced something."
"Or as likely to come anywhere near that inn I wanted,"
she said, looking up at him stubbornly. "My sandals and I
are willing to take our chances on the road."
"My boots and I aren't," he came back, not far from
grinning. "Since we three are bigger than you three, we'll
take the track."
The look she gave him would have put a basilisk to shame,
and when.she spat on the ground just in front of his feet he
was surprised the ground didn't immediately dissolve. The
gesture was one he'd seen before any number of times, and
usually called for a very specific response to the insult.
Rather than following protocol and drawing on her, though,
he chose a gesture of his own that was, in that instance, a
good deal more satisfying. Turning her again in the proper
direction, he sent her off with a smack to the backside not
much more gentle than the one he'd given her the day before.
He really did want to get along with her, but letting her insult
him like that wasn't the way he could accept getting it done.
The girl snarled and grumbled, muttering things under her
breath, but the track was what she followed. Kylin had been
disgusted with himself for letting the horse get taken, but the
extra time walking would give him with Sofaltis just might
turn out to be the best of it. She wasn't likely to tell him what
was bothering her if he came right out and asked, so he was
going to have to try coaxing it out of her in bits and pieces.
So far he knew she was completely against marrying him, but
would do it for her father's sake just the way he'd been
assured she would. What he needed to know was why she
was so solidly against him, and what he could do to change
her mind.
The track ran mostly in the open, around trees rather than
through stands of them, and seemed to have been made by a
wagon or wagons taking the same route a number of times.
Kylin stayed alert for any sign of the bandits they'd had
trouble with the day before, but the hours passed and there
was no sign of them. There was also no sign of the sun,
which couldn't seem to break through the thickening gray

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER	211
piled low in the skies. It wasn't quite as hot as it had been,
but the air was heavy with a threat of rain.
They stopped at what felt like noon to eat the chicken he
was carrying, but there hadn't been any way to bring water.
They would either have to find a brook, or take advantage of
the rain when it finally came down, but that still left them
with a rather dry meal. The girl sat in.the grass looking at
everything but him, her long legs bent to the left, the food
he'd given her accepted silently and reluctantly. She was
making it plain she had nothing to say to him, and that that
turn of events was entirely his fault. For his own part Kylin
had never realized before how good women were at doing
things like that, and discovered he was enjoying himself
despite the heavy quiet.
After the meal they continued on, and the clear space
around the track began to grow narrower. The woods to either
side were also beginning to be more tangled, as though no
one had ever forced a way deeper through them. Kylin found
himself watching even more carefully for what might come
out of those woods, and when a wide gap appeared to the left
he discovered he wasn't the only one alert and watching. The
breeze had grown strong enough to let him know what lay
through the gap, and just as he said, "Water," and pointed,
the girl half turned to do exactly the same.
For an instant they were smiling at each other sheepishly,
amused that they'd said the same thing at the same time, but
then that old curtain came down over the girl, separating her
from Kylin more completely than a stone wall would have
done. She turned without another word and started for the
gap, and he had no choice but to follow the same way,
wishing it was no more than a stone wall between them. The
way he felt right then, he could have torn it down with his
bare hands.
The gap in the woods was less obvious from the inside, but
the faint trail was clear enough to follow and led to a swiftly
running spring. Whoever had made the wagon track had
probably made the gap as well, to mark out the place where
water might be found. The girl glanced around before going
to her knees near the water, and once she had drunk her fill
Kylin knelt in the dimness to do the same. He was just rising
from the clear, cold water when a sound came from the brush

212
Sharon Green
to his right. It was no more than a brief, frantic rustle that
stopped almost as quickly as it had started, but Kylin's sword
whispered from its scabbard even as the girl froze.
"Move slowly back behind me," Kylin said softly without
taking his eyes from the place the sound had come, at the
same time going toward it. He didn't know Sofaltis hadn't
obeyed him until he moved a section of the brush aside with
his blade, and heard the sound of softly indrawn breath.
"It's a fawn," she said in what was nearly a whisper, no
more than a foot away on his right. "Its hind leg is caught,
and it can't get loose."
Which, of course, was something he'd already been able to
see for himself. The fawn had probably been drinking at the
spring with its mother, and when he and the girl had startled
them with their approach, the little thing, in its haste to get
away, had gotten tangled.
"Don't touch it, or its mother might not take it back,"
Kylin said, and not until the words were out did he realize
that Sofaltis had again said the same thing at the same time as
he. This time they laughed straight out, softly so as not to
startle the fawn, but heartily enough to cheer Kylin considera-
bly. Things seemed to be looking up, and since he had the
small, trapped animal to thank for that, it was only fair that
he return the favor.
Moving carefully closer and crouching, the big Fighter
could see that it was a rope of thorns keeping the fawn where
it trembled in fear. He reached forward slowly with his
sword, holding the point well down against the possibility of
sudden, frantic struggle, and severed the vine to the right of
the small leg with a quick stroke. Logically that should have
freed the leg and the fawn with it, but logic had chosen that
time to spread its hands in mystified loss.
"Why isn't the stupid thing letting go?" Sofaltis asked in a
murmur of annoyance, leaning nearer over his right shoulder.
"I can't see—oh, now I can. It's wrapped around itself right
above the hoof, hanging on with teeth. If you cut the other
side that loop will still be on the fawn, but at least the little
beast will be free."
Kylin knew it was possible to handle it that way, freeing
the fawn while leaving the loop of thorns around its leg, but
he didn't care for the solution. If the fawn couldn't work the

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER	213
loop off before its leg began growing, the thorns would bury
themselves deeper and deeper, causing constant pain, proba-
ble crippling, and eventually a death not quick enough to be
kind. No, he couldn't very well do it that way, so that left
only one other option.
Instead of answering the girl, Kylin rested his sword on the
ground and leaned forward slowly and carefully with his left
hand. The thorns on the vine were very much like the teeth
Sofaltis had named them, and their short but very sharp
points helped to keep the tangled vine wrapped tight. Kylin
edged two fingers inside the loop where the thorns seemed
smaller and tried to coax the cut end loose, but although some
of the thorns disengaged and the vine slid a little, it still
refused to come free. He tugged again, trying to move
nothing but his fingers—and inadvertently tightened the loop
around the slender leg it held captive.
The fawn had, until then, been standing rigidly with the
uncontrolled quiver of terror all through it, but the sensation
of pain was just too much for it. It exploded into the struggle
of desperation, pulling with all its small amount of strength,
and an instant later was free and racing off deeper into the
woods. Kylin had tried jerking back at the first indication of
movement and had managed to do so, and was therefore
surprised at the abrupt pain in his left hand.
"Now that's more like it," Sofaltis announced in normal
tones, satisfaction in her voice as she began to turn to him
after watching the fawn out of sight. "Free again and able to
run with the wind, not caught in a trap like— For Evon's
sake, what happened to your hand?"
"The thorns must have caught me when the vine whipped
back," Kylin said as he resheathed his sword after straighten-
ing, his bloody left hand held out in front of him. "it's not
too bad, and it isn't my sword hand, after all. . . ."
"So let's ignore it until you bleed to death," the girl
finished for him in disgust, looking up from his hand into his
eyes. "For your information your life is mine to take, and I
won't be cheated out of it by some thorns. Get back to the
spring so I can take care of it."
The order carried a kind of refusal to be ignored that
surprised Kylin, but the satisfaction he felt outweighed the
surprise by quite a bit. For the first time the girl seemed to be

214
Sharon Green
seeing him as an actual human being, and the loss of blood
was a small price to pay for so large a step. Rather than
grinning the way he wanted to, he gave a small, indifferent
shrug and turned back to the brook.
The first touch of the very cold water on the thorn gouges
was something Kylin was braced for, but he was still glad
when the hand finally went numb. The skin of his paim had
been shredded open rather than simply pierced, and if it had
been his sword hand he would have had something of a
problem. Sofaltis waited until the blood flow was nearly
stopped, then began ripping and tearing at the tunic she wore.
She had obviously noticed the extra drapes and folds of the
garment, and was intent on removing the top layer of cloth.
When she had two wide strips and one narrow one, she
gestured to his hand.
"Bring it out of there now and let the water drip off," she
directed, folding one of the wide strips into a squarish pad,
the inner surface of the cloth now out. "it would help to have
something cleaner, but this will have to do."
When the pad was ail folded she used the bottom of it to
lightly pat the hand dry, then turned it over and placed it
against the wound. The second wide strip followed the first
and was coiled around the pad and hand, and then the narrow
strip was used to tie it all on. Kylin felt as though he had a
major wound rather than a few simple scratches under all that
bandaging, but he wasn't about to complain.
"it's a good thing for me I'm traveling with someone who
knows what she's doing," he remarked, supposedly adjusting
the bandage but in reality watching the girl. "Most women
seem to be raised to pass out at the sight of blood. Thank
you."
He looked directly at her then, catching the very end of the
expression that had been on her face. Without thinking she
had begun showing pleased satisfaction over what he'd said,
her features becoming younger and more open than he'd yet
seen them, and then she seemed to remember who she was
smiling at.
"You can keep your thanks for when I have a weapon in
my hand again," she said, and if her tone wasn't hostile, it
was, at the very least, cool. "That's the time you'll need to

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER	215
remind me you actually have a better side to your nature.
Right now we still have a trail to follow."
Her turning away marked an end to the conversation, and
Kylin followed feeling more confused than ever. Why in
Evon's name would she appear surprised that he had a better
side? She'd even seemed reluctant to admit to seeing some-
thing like that, and he couldn't understand why she would
feel that way. Didn't everyone have better sides? Shouldn't a
woman who was going to have to marry a man be pleased to
discover he wasn't a thorough rogue? The girl was definitely
unhappy rather than pleased, and Kylin was completely at a
loss.
The trail continued on its way through the tangle, and
although there were occasional sounds in the brush, nothing
came charging out looking for a meal. Kylin kept a good
portion of his attention alert against the possibility, but the
rest of it was very much centered on the girl who walked in
front of him. She, in turn, seemed to be preoccupied rather
than simply silent, bothered by something and enmeshed in
thinking about it. The big Fighter would have enjoyed know-
ing what was absorbing her attention, but was realistic enough
to realize there wasn't much chance of that.
With both of them so wrapped up in other concerns, the
beginning of the rainstorm caught the two almost completely
by surprise. Neither had noticed how the gray skies had
lowered and darkened, and the first raindrops were almost
light enough to be ignored. The following drops, however,
were not the same, and the prospect of a refreshing shower
abruptly became the promise of a drenching downpour. Kylin
and Sofaltis stopped to look quickly about themselves, and
then the Fighter touched the girl's arm.
"There's a small opening in the brush a short way back,"
Kylin said over the strengthening rain, gesturing behind him.
"We've got to try to find it."
"Why the rush?" the girl asked, suddenly deciding to
pretend the drops weren't bothering her in the least. "If this
is the first time you've been caught out in the rain, you have
a surprise coming. Only leather does badly in it, and we
aren't wearing leather."
"You mean you don't know?" Kylin responded immedi-
ately, trying to widen his eyes at her despite the rain. "If we

216
Sharon Green
stay out in this too long we'll shrink. I've seen it happen to
friends of mine. One minute they were my size, and the
next—"
His right palm indicated a distance waist-high from the
ground, and when he shook his head with a tragic sigh a
laugh forced its way out of the girl. Kylin could see she
hadn't wanted to laugh, but when his grin joined in she
laughed again, as tickled over the nonsense as he'd hoped
she'd be. They laughed together for a moment, and then the
girl noticed that the strength of the rain was increasing.
"Maybe we'd better find that opening of yours after all,"
she said, raising her voice to be heard over the rain noise as
she swept sodden hair back out of her face with a hand. "If
any rain is going to end up shrinking someone, this one looks
like it's it."
"And I'd really hate being that small," Kylin agreed with
another grin, taking the girl's arm. "It's this way."
They hurried through the growing downpour, trying to find
what he'd only half-seen, and almost went past it because of
their obstructed vision. At the last instant Kylin turned his
head to look back, saw the narrow opening, guided the girl to
it by the arm he held, then urged her in first. She had to go
down on all fours to crawl through, but once Kylin had done
the same he found the resulting tunnel through the heavy
brush just a little wider than he'd expected. The two couldn't
comfortably crawl side by side, but they would have been
able to if the need had arisen.
Inside the bush tunnel the light dimmed considerably, espe-
cially since it went back into the woods before angling left
and then stopping. Kylin had been half-anticipating meeting
whatever had made that bush-den, and when they reached the
end of it to find it empty, he allowed himself a silent sigh.
Arguing over a shelter with its rightful inhabitant in such
narrow confines could have proven tricky, especially with the
girl crawling ahead of him. Thank Evon it had turned out to
be unnecessary.
"You know, this isn't bad at all," the girl observed,
beginning to make herself comfortable where the tunnel ended.
"Dry shelter protected by all that undergrowth, abandoned
but clean—all we're missing is a front yard with a well."
"If you accept your wells upside down, going back out

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER	217
from under the trees will supply the need," Kylin said,
moving up closer to where she rested on her right side. "If it
doesn't stop raining by dark, we'll spend the night here."
"If it doesn't stop raining by dark, we'll be spending a
cold and soggy night here," she observed, lowering her head
to examine the sodden tunic plastered to her. "Leather may
not do well in the rain, but it lets you*have more than five
minutes out in it before it starts giving you trouble."
"But leather also resists being wrung dry," Kylin pointed
out, coming even with where the girl lay. "Take the tunic off
and squeeze the water out of it, and maybe by dark it will
have dried."
"And if it hasn't, I can spend the night freezing," the girl
said sourly, using her left hand to try squeezing the very
bottom of the tunic. "Even in the north, I never really had to
worry about freezing."
"You still don't have to worry about it," Kylin murmured,
putting his arm about the girl as he leaned closer. "I'll make
sure you don't freeze."
Her head snapped up and she parted her lips to say some-
thing, but Kylin's kiss ended whatever it would have been
even before it started. He hadn't meant to do that, hadn't
intended pushing the newborn warmth Sofaltis was beginning
to show, but he couldn't help himself. The wet tunic was
outlining every curve and rise of her, and his mind kept
shouting that that woman was his. He'd wanted her from the
very first moment he'd seen her, and having had her once had
only fed his desire, not sated it. Her lips were so soft and
warm under his, the memory of rain still on them, and
although she'd begun by struggling in his arms her lips
weren't struggling. They were returning what they were being
given, and the realization of that sent the heat racing all
through his blood.
"Tisah," he murmured to the lids closed over her eyes, his
hand in her hair as his lips continued to touch her. "My
great-aunt's name was Sofaltis, and my great-uncle called
her Tisah. I think I've decided to do the same."
"No—please—don't," she whispered with eyes still closed,
trying to find the struggling she'd earlier lost. She wasn't
referring to the name he'd chosen for her, and they both knew
it.

218
Sharon Green
"I won't hurt you," he crooned as though she were as
young, innocent and afraid as she sounded, his right hand
sliding down and under that very wet tunic. "I'd never hurt
you, and I mean to prove it every day for the rest of our lives.
You won't regret any of this, Tisah, that I promise."
She moaned and tossed her head as though she were in
pain, but there were no more words from her. Her flesh was
damp but so very soft, and Kylin nearly moaned himself at
the feel of it. She was his, his!—and in just another few
moments he would prove it to her. Right then he was savor-
ing what his palm and lips touched, the movement of her
against him, the feel of having his arms around her. It seemed
as though he'd waited forever to experience that, and he
wasn't going to ruin it all by rushing. He wanted to rush, by
Evon's Silver Blade he wanted to rush, but instead he took
her lips again fiercely, his hand this time going to that
warmth between her thighs. Her gasp also brought her hands
to his back, and then Kylin knew he was truly Home.

Chapter 10
The sound of birds woke me, and although I was very
comfortable I couldn't at first remember where 1 was. It was
dim there, the air had an after-rain freshness, a hard, warm
body pressed lightly against my back, while a big arm circled
my waist—
If there had been more headroom I would have sat bolt
upright, thanks to the sudden return of memory. Without it all
I did was stiffen, silently cursing myself for the biggest
damned fool alive. The day before I'd not only let him touch
me I'd cooperated, for Evon's sake, just as though he weren't
an enemy to my family! I'd actually wanted him to touch me,
and when he had I'd enjoyed it!
1 closed my eyes again and just lay still, remembering with
a good deal of bitterness how I'd assured my father that I
wasn't the sort to fall prey to the first attractive man likely to
come along. I was strong, and independent, and a Blade, and
something like that wouid never happen to me. I couldn't
quite understand why it had happened, unless it had been
caused by the memory of the first time he'd made love to me.
The big fool was unexpectedly good, and I wasn't used to
denying myself the good ones, and he'd gone out of his way
to make me laugh, and he hadn't even cursed the fawn when
he'd gotten hurt freeing it—
But none of that changed the fact that he was my enemy.
I stirred a little under the arm around my waist, feeling
annoyance begin to push its way in beside the upset. Now
that I was thinking about it, I could suddenly see another
possible reason for the way I'd behaved: his constant refer-
ences to our "upcoming marriage." No matter what I'd said,
219

220
Sharon Green
he'd continued insisting that we were going to be married, and
the attitude must have affected my judgment. I didn't want to
marry him—or anybody—but the corner I'd been pushed into
was telling me I'd have no choice—that he would be my
husband—with a husband's rights—so I'd better get used to
it—
"Son of a garbage eater!" I muttered under my breath,
really getting angry. Wasn't that typical of a cowardly en-
emy, coming at you from behind! He was using everything he
could to defeat me, even my own mind, but it wasn't going to
happen. It was time I started fighting back, and in the same
way I was being attacked. If he wanted to play the game of
hints and assuming and taking-for-granted, there was a dandy
version of it / could use. . . .
"Well, good morning," I heard from behind me in a
murmur, and the arm around my waist was suddenly more
than simply there. "I'd say it was a lovely morning, the
beginning of a really pretty day. What say we give it a proper
greeting?"
His lips came to my right shoulder with that, showing he
was telling more than asking, already well into the preroga-
tives of a husband. If he hadn't been an enemy I would have
been more than interested, but he was so I couldn't afford to
let myself be drawn in. 1 had no experience in dealing with
husbands, but associating with men on an almost constant
basis gives a woman very useful insights.
"Well, if you really want to," 1 grudged without turning to
him, heavy reluctance and disinterest in my sigh of resigna-
tion. His hand, which had begun stroking my middle just
below my breasts paused, and there was a moment of silence.
"After all that activity yesterday afternoon and last night, I
expected more enthusiasm," he said then, his tone tinged
with confusion and showing less assurance. "Are you trying
to say you don't want me to make love to you?"
"I'm not silly enough to believe I can stop you," I said
with another sigh, unhappy but resigned. "What difference
does what / want make?"
"It makes a lot of difference," he returned, stung enough
to use the arm that had been around me to shift me to my
back. "You sound as though you expect to be raped and that

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER	221
bothers me, especially since what I best remember from
yesterday is eager response."
"Well, of course I responded," I said with a small laugh,
looking up into his sober face. "Once a woman has a certain
amount of experience, she'll respond whether she wants to or
not. The reaction becomes automatic, and she has very little
control over it even if she turns out to be*disappointed later."
"Disappointed?" he repeated, expressionlessly picking up
on the word I'd wanted him to. "You didn't enjoy what we
had together?"
"Oh, it wasn't that I didn't enjoy it," I hastened to assure
him, putting one hand to his wide, bare chest in an effort to
take the sting out of the bitter truth I was being forced to
speak. "You have to remember how many men I've tried
over the years, and some of them were so—really good—that
it's hard for other men to—come up to the standards they
set— Oh, dear, I don't think I'm saying this right. ..."
"No, it's all right," he muttered, no longer quite looking
at me. "You can't be blamed for not—"
His words died out as his thoughts turned inward, the idea
of having fallen short of the mark affecting his assurance the
way I'd hoped it would. Women have one great benefit over
men in that they don't need belief and self-assurance in order
to perform; men, however, can't do without it. Laughter and
ridicule won't stop a confident man any longer than it takes to
get you out of your leathers, but understanding pity and
commiseration can be devastating. Big, strong Kylin had
gotten a taste of that, and suddenly his interest in proper
new-day greetings wasn't as strong as it had been.
Very thoughtfully 1 refrained from interrupting his brood-
ing, and when he came out of it after a minute or two the
original subject was well behind us. It suddenly became a
good idea to get back on the road as quickly as possible, and
although I was quietly sympathetic I didn't argue. Kylin of
Arthil refused to let himself be pushed around as easily as
other men, but when it came to being manipulated he seemed
to have no resistance at all.
We got ourselves out from under the bushes before trying
to get back into clothing and such, which was then accom-
plished with Kylin's attention some place other than on me.
The tunic I'd had from him had dried during the night, which

222
Sharon Green
meant I had no more to do than slip it on, then tie my
improvised sandals. Surprisingly enough, even with trousers,
and boots, and dagger and pouch belt, and swordbelt, my
companion was dressed almost as quickly as I was. We then
shared what was left of the chicken for breakfast, searched
for and found a leaf-pocket of rainwater to wash the meal
down, and then continued on our way.
The trail we were following didn't narrow again, and we
continued on for hours with me, at least, hoping it would take
us some place sooner rather than later. I used the silence of
the hours for thinking purposes, but all that came out of the
effort was added frustration. Making my enemy doubt him-
self was useful for keeping his hands off me while we trav-
eled, but I wasn't foolish enough to believe it would affect
his decision concerning our marriage. It wasn't me he primar-
ily wanted, after all, so the plans he and his cohorts had made
would stand. They had my father and me neatly boxed in,
they thought, but there had to be a way out of the trap. Hours
of thinking continued to leave me without the least idea as to
where the key to freedom lay, but that didn't mean there
wasn't any—or that I was ready to give up.
Midday came and we stopped to rest a while, but after no
more than a few minutes we were walking again. Without
food and water we couldn't afford to waste any time, espe-
cially since the tangle of woods all around wasn't offering us
the option of hunting. We had to walk until we dropped, and
then we had to walk some more. Otherwise we'd die there,
walled off from what we needed to survive by ages-old vines
and bushes and trees. Following the trail had turned out to be
a very bad idea, and I no longer thought taking it was some
complex enemy ploy. My companion also seemed disturbed
over the impenetrability of the forest, and wasn't trying to
waste time by dragging his feet.
The minutes and hours continued to go by without doing
anything more than making me thirstier, and then we came on
a change so abrupt, it was almost as though someone had
posted a sign. The trail itself didn't widen, but suddenly,
practically between one step and the next, the woods were no
longer a mass of tangles. The vines seemed to be cleared
away as far in as we could see on both sides, just as though
gardening ladies had been by not too long ago.

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER	223
4'Thank Evon," my companion said fervently, pausing
with me to look around. "If we've reached the point of
farthest penetration by hunters, hopefully their village won't
be too much longer down the road. Let's see if we can get
there before this heat flattens us."
"You think there's a village ahead of us?" I asked, hurry-
ing to catch up with the broader strides he was already taking.
"Were you expecting it to be there?"
"I was hoping it would be there," he corrected, now
watching the woods more carefully than he'd been doing. "It
seemed to be a safe guess that the holding we found was
established with a link back to its starting point—that it was
an attempt at expansion rather than the urge to be alone—
which made this trail safer for our purposes than the main
road. If it had turned out I was wrong, we would have had to
backtrack without the supplies we'd started with."
"Getting back to that spring wouldn't have been all that
hard," I decided, not having considered the option sooner.
44If we couldn't catch something to eat there, we'd deserve to
starve. And then we'd have no choice but to find that outlaw
camp and do a little raiding—which is something I wish I'd
thought of sooner. It would have saved us this walk."
"By getting us killed?" he asked, but there was true
amusement behind the words, and then he sobered again.
44You know, I don't think any woman 1 ever met would have
kept on walking without a single complaint, or would have
passed up the chance of reminding me that going this way
was something I'd insisted on. You seem to be the answer to
any man's prayers to Evon, and I wish I could have—"
He broke off in the middle and simply went back to
watching the woods, leaving me wishing I was in front of a
practice pole with a sword in my hands. How dare he make
me feel guilty for what I'd done to him that morning? And
without even realizing he was doing it! He was an enemy,
wasn't he? Then why should his compliments make me feel
odd, and his belief that he hadn't satisfied me make me want
to admit I'd been lying? It wasn't right and it wasn't sane, but
burying my fingernails in my palms was the only thing that
kept me quiet. For someone playing deep, nasty games he
was so horribly—open, and easy to hurt! Why did he have to
keep pretending he was nice?

224
Sharon Green
The best thing about my thoughts after that was that they
kept me from remembering how thirsty I was. It took me a
while to make myself understand that an enemy couldn't be
nice, but after that it was a little easier burying the guilt. I'd
never minded cutting down someone who was trying to do
the same to me, but drawing blood from a helpless, unarmed
victim is more than I have the stomach for. If that's what it
took to be a successful Ducal heir, maybe 1 didn't have the
makings of one after all.
We trudged on up the trail, seeing the woods thin more and
more as we went, and then we came to the place where the
forest disappeared into stumps. I knew it had to be the place
the villagers had taken building logs from and was about to
say something about how much closer we had to be, when
Kylin stopped short beside me. I looked up to see that his
attention was on what appeared to be a knot of people a short
distance away, and then all thoughts of trees and the nearness
of the village were gone from me. The main knot of people
ahead were all in long skirts and huddled together, and those
around them wore trousers and were carrying what couldn't
be anything other than quarterstaffs.
"I think you'd better wait here," my companion muttered,
his eyes still on the scene ahead, his right hand already
reaching over to loosen his sword. "If that turns out to be
something other than what it looks like, I'll call you."
And then he was striding off without waiting for an an-
swer, confidently expecting me to do exactly as I'd been told,
silly enough to think I'd believe those men weren't attacking
those women in some way. As I immediately followed after,
I knew I'd have to revise my previous opinions of his intelli-
gence. If the man really thought I was going to stay behind
and do nothing to help, he wasn't stupid, he had mush for
brains and was entirely beyond hope.
The closer I got, the easier it was to see that the women
who were huddled together were really frightened. The men
around them, only six to their ten or more, were laughing as
they looked at their intended victims, but it wasn't clear what
they were going to make them victims of. Kylin was about
five steps ahead of me, moving quickly but quietly, and
suddenly one of the women stepped out away from the huddle
to face one of the men.

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER	225
4i can't believe you're doing this," she said, her voice
carrying easily, a mixture of anger and fear in it. "These
women haven't hurt you in any way, so how can you ..."
"It ain't us as had the hurt, so that makes it worse," the
man directly before her interrupted, a deep satisfaction of
sorts in him. "All o' you done bad by Grail, an' that's what
makes you sinful. Th' priest says sinners deserve what they
get and get what they deserve, 'n we're here t'make it so."
"How can refusing to listen to this new priest be sinful in
the eyes of Grail?" the woman asked in confusion, her voice
now unsteady. "Just because they want to keep on doing
things the way the old priest said was proper, doesn't mean
they ..."
"Th' old priest din't know the right way, but this'n do,"
the man broke in again, having no interest in listening to
anything he didn't want to hear. "Th' priest says you all
gotta be punished, 'specially you, an' then there won' be no
more who try th' same. We's workin' f'r th' priest, so we's
gonna go Home in Glory when we go, that's what he says.
Now we's gonna get t' it."
The man brought his quarterstaff up to hold it in both
hands, and the woman stepped back without taking her eyes
from him, knowing well enough that he now stood at the
ready. Some of the others behind her began whimpering, all
of them trying to huddle into each other, but the "it" they
were supposed to get started with suddenly faced an unex-
pected delay.
"You men step away from those women, or you'll be
going Home a lot sooner than you were planning on," my
companion announced from where he'd stopped, about six
feet behind the nearest man. "And if you think there'll be
anything glorious about it, take my word for it: there won't
be."
The women looked up as the men whirled around to face
the newcomer, snarls covering male faces, hope covering
female ones. They all saw that Kylin stood with his sword in
his fist, point down but ready to be brought up, body loose
and easy and set to move in any way it had to, no sign of
tension at the numbers to be faced alone. The man who had
done all the talking, unshaven and dirty and slow-looking,
glanced around to see that his new opponent was alone, let

226
Sharon Green
that fact sink in, then jumped forward to end the challenge as
fast as possible.
There have been endless arguments on the subject of a man
with a sword facing a man with a quarterstaff, the point of
contention being, of course, which one would win. Those
who argue always seem to assume true skill on the part of
both fighters, which usually means those backing the quarter-
staff insist that the swordsman doesn't have a chance. The
staff has longer reach, two ends that are equally effective,
and most often is made of ironwood, which a sword won't
split. A capable quarterstaff user should be able to take a
capable swordsman with only a little effort—but the key word
there is "capable."
The man jumping at Kylin was about as far from capable
as you can get while still being alive. His hands began lifting
his staff even as he moved, but what he did was raise it all
the way to his left and then swing it down fast, almost as
though he thought he was holding a cudgel instead of a staff.
Kylin ducked under the attack with no effort whatsoever, a
brief hesitation at first showing he didn't really believe the
stupidity of what was happening, and then his own weapon
swung toward the extended body of the fool who had left
himself wide open. Homespun does very little to stop the
advance of quickly moving steel, which means the fool
screamed once before following his swing away and toward
the ground.
The remaining men shouted and howled at having lost their
leader that quickly and easily, but instead of being smart and
giving up on something that had become a bad idea, they
proved they were even shorter on brains than the first man
had been. They all began charging toward Kylin, their staffs
raised and swinging, and then followed after him as he
backed away to give himself adequate fighting room. If they
had formed a circle they very well might have had him, but a
semi-circle was as close as they came, and they followed
along as though they were on a string.
Which, of course, gave me time and room to move forward
fast to the late fool on the ground, and appropriate his staff
for my own use. I wasn't the best ever trained with a quarter-
staff, but I knew how to use one and the feel of a weapon in
my hands again was like rain after a drought. The staff was

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER	227
smooth-grained and heavy, just the way it should be, far too
good a weapon for the fool who had been carrying it. I let my
paims slide over its surface in what was almost a caress, and
then I turned to those who were looking for a fight.
My former road companion was doing more ducking and
jumping than standing and fighting, but only because there
were four of them. If he had kept at it long enough he might
have been able to take every one of them, but there was also
the possibility that one of the four could have gotten lucky.
With me behind them, however, the possibility was no longer
in sight, which the first of them discovered when I tapped
him on the shoulder with the tip of my staff. He whirled
toward me with his weapon in both hands, frowned when he
saw who it was who had challenged him, and might have
turned back to his original fight if I hadn't used my staff to
rap him sharply on the left shin. He howled with the pain of
the blow, getting mad at the same time, but he also commit-
ted the stupidity I was expecting. He lowered his staff in
reflex reaction to the blow that had reached him, leaving his
head open and unprotected by either end of his weapon.
Flicking my left arm forward I rapped him hard on the head,
and that was the end of his anger and his efforts.
My first opponent was only just folding to the ground when
one of the remaining three turned and saw what was going
on, and decided I would be easier to deal with than the man
with the sword. He must have thought I'd come up from
behind and gotten his friend that way, and it took a minute or
two before he learned better. He actually turned out to know
something about the weapon he held, and I had to do some
fast swinging, blocking and moving of my own to keep from
getting flattened. After the minute or two 1 feinted at his
head, did it again, then swung the tail of my staff into his
groin, nearly lifting him off the ground with the force of the
blow. He choked as his arms and legs turned to water, and
my head-blow must have come as a great relief to him. No
longer feeling the pain, he crumpled into a heap and lay still.
I turned then to see how the last two were doing against
Kylin, and discovered that they weren't, at least not any
longer. While my attention had been diverted they had both
ended up on the ground, and were lying unmoving with
bloody wounds in very unhealthy spots. Their former oppo-

228
Sharon Green
nent was between them and the site of my own battle, as
though he'd been on his way to me when the action had
abruptly ended, and even as I looked around he completed the
journey.
"I'm not going to waste any more breath making polite,
roundabout comments on the way you take orders," he said
when he reached me, his voice low but a definite growl, his
angry eyes matching. "The next time you ignore a direct
order you're in trouble, and you won't be able to say you
weren't warned. You're just lucky you weren't hurt, or I
wouldn't be waiting for next time."
The only thing that kept me from telling him off then and
there was the fact that I couldn't decide which of his imbe-
cilic comments I wanted to tear apart first. I stood there
spluttering in outrage, my right hand a fist around the staff as
he wiped his sword on his trousers before resheathing it, and
then we were surrounded by a horde of laughing, gratefully
relieved women who kept me from showing an idiot what real
staff-work was like.
"You two were absolutely wonderful," the woman who
had spoken to the attackers said from the middle of the
women all around us, as happy as they were but slightly
calmer about it. "1 don't know where you came from, but 1
don't doubt that Evon guided you in this direction. Thank
you, thank you both."
"Believe me, it was our pleasure," the idiot answered,
daring to smile at the woman as he said it. "Trash like that is
always in need of sweeping up. Can you tell us what they
were after?"
"Apparently they were after us," the woman said, losing a
good deal of her happiness. She wore a long print dress much
like those worn by the other women, but the way she spoke
showed she wasn't entirely village-born and bred. Although
the gray in her hair said she was into her fifth under-decade,
she appeared strong and better kept than a village woman
would be expected to be. She wasn't my size but was fairly
tall, had dark hair and eyes, and a plain but very alive face.
"Our village has recently been blessed with the arrival of a
new priest of Grail," the woman went on, her words quieting
the other women as well. "Our old priest was a man who was
loved as weli as liked, and many of us were shocked when he

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER	229
was told he had to leave here. Some tried arguing the point
but he didn't; all he did was pack the little he had and then he
left. He obeyed the demands of his order without question,
and we were left with his replacement."
The woman made a face when she said that, and although
the others didn't go quite so far as to do the same, they all
looked as though they wanted to.
"The new priest was not only younger, he was also filled
with an arrogance unusual to those who serve Grail," the
woman said, gesturing with one hand as she tried to clarify
the picture her words evoked. "He made no effort to get to
know the people of the village individually, but instead called
everyone to a meeting and announced the changes he was
there to make in everyone's lives, i don't think we have the
time to list all those changes now, and they aren't.the
main point anyway. The point is that the changes weren't
suggestions—they were orders, and everyone was to obey
without question.
"Needless to say, not everyone went along with obeying,"
the woman said with a sigh. "Many of the people felt that the
changes were an affront to Grail and his teachings, decided
that the new priest was either insane or just plain mistaken,
and tried to go on with their lives the way they'd been before
the man got here. No more than a day or two went by, and
then those who had refused to obey the new priest began
having—accidents. Or they were attacked by the trash every
village has a few members of, and were badly beaten. In one
or two instances it was the family of the man who suffered,
like the family of our blacksmith. His wife had gone out herb
and berry gathering with two of her friends, three men came
across them, the friends got away—by the time help reached
her, the three men had already—hurt her badly—"
The woman fell silent for a moment, to quiet the choking
fury rising in her, I thought, and then she took a deep breath
and went on.
"The new priest gloatingly told everyone that the people
who had been having trouble were having it because they
refused to obey the demands of Grail. Most of those who had
defied the priest were suddenly afraid that that was so, and
began changing their lives the way they'd been told to do.
Some of the men, though, supported by their families and

230
Sharon Green
wives, still refused to go along, saying they didn't believe
Grail had had anything to do with what had been happening.
The priest was furious, but there was nothing he could do to
change their minds, not when his threats didn't work. That
was a week or two ago, and with the peace and quiet we've
been having we thought the trouble was all over with. And
then this morning the priest sent messages to all of us, asking
us to meet him here to discuss the problem of 'returning lost
sheep to the flock,' as he put it. He wanted to appeal to us for
our help, his message said, but when we got here there was
no sign of him. What we found in his piace, you already
know."
"And enjoyed dealing with," 1 said, leaning on the staff I
still held. "I have the distinct impression, though, that you
aren't just another part of the victim group. You thanked
Evon, as I recall, and the leader of that pack said something
about the proposed punishment being 'especially' for you.
What did he mean?"
"He meant that my punishment was going to be a special
message for my father," she answered, annoyance beginning
to rise in her dark eyes. "I'm Indris, and my father is a priest
of Evon who came here to live with me a few years ago. I
was a Blade when I was young, but I left that life to marry
arid settle here with my husband. He died a few years ago,
and shortly after that my father came to live with me. He's
never tried preaching in this village, and he got along well
with the old priest of Grail. The new one wants him out, but
he's refused to go. This was obviously supposed to give him
reason for going."
"If he's anything like a priest of Evon I know, it would
have given him reason to do something else entirely," I
remarked, then looked around at the women. "Is there any-
one here who doesn't believe their village will be much better
off vAthout this new priest and his new ideas?"
"Of course not," the woman Indris said while the others
shifted in upset. "But the people here believe that to do
anything to him would be terrible sacrilege. They don't want
him, but they can't bring themselves to raise a hand against
him."
"As long as my hand is now available, they don't have
to," 1 said, straightening where I stood. "If what he says

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER	231
goes counter to all of Grail's teachings, then he can't be
considered anything but a pestilence that needs eradicating.
Let's all pay him a visit, and let him know what we learned
from these helpers of his. Right after that I'll send him on his
way."
"I think someone else should get to do the sending," a
voice said, a male voice that hadn't spokpn for the last couple
of minutes. "To keep me from feeling unneeded, you
understand."
"But you are unneeded," I came back, turning my head to
the fool who now stood a good deal closer on my left. "If
you don't believe it, step out with me away from these people
and I'll prove it."
"I'm too hot, tired, hungry and thirsty for games," he
returned, giving me a pleasant smile. "We'll go on to the
village, take care of putting out the rest of the trash, then sit
down with a cup of brew and discuss anything you like."
I was about to point out that a discussion wasn't what I had
in mind, when I realized something really infuriating. My
right hand had automatically begun lifting the staff, but begun
was as far as I got. Another hand was on it from behind me, a
much stronger hand that was holding it down. I'd let the
woman's story distract me enough to give my enemy a chance
to get a grip on the staff, and I'd had enough experience with
him to know that that meant the weapon was no longer mine.
I wanted to tell him how much I despised him, but the
woman Indris was suddenly right near me, her hand reaching
for my arm.
"What's wrong with me—of course you two must be tired
and hungry," she said, closing her hand on my arm in a
gentle but firm way. "You save our lives, and all we do in
return is stand around bending your ears without once offer-
ing any sort of hospitality. I know my father will want you to
be our guests, and 1 certainly do. Just come with us; the
village isn't far."
Her grip on me began urging me along, the other women
adding their agreement and encouragement, and there was
really no reason to stand there arguing the possession of
something I'd already lost. After no more than the briefest
hesitation I let go of the staff and simply went with them,
taking along no more than a truth I finally understood com-

232
Sharon Green
pletely. No enemy can ever be nice, no matter how they twist
things to make it seem otherwise.
It took only a few minutes to walk to the village, and all
the way there Indris refused to let the conversation die, using
the willing cooperation of the other women in an attempt to
lighten my mood. They didn't know what trouble there was
between their rescuers, but they seemed determined to try
smoothing it over. I let their words simply float around me as
I walked, hating the man I'd briefly fought beside, wishing
the attackers had managed to do for him instead of the other
way around. It was more than clear that he was afraid of me,
afraid to let me get permanent possession of a weapon he
knew damned well I would not hesitate to use on him. I'd
been a mindless fool not to use the weapon while I had it, and
would be sure not to be that stupid a second time.
The village we came to was bigger than 1 expected it to be,
and when someone mentioned its name, Sinder's Down, I
suddenly knew where I was. The city of Gensea was about
half a day's ride to the south, and the villagers were my
father's people. We drew stares as we walked up the main
dirt street past the store, the tavern and the smithy, and then
we drew more hurrying men than stares. Questions demand-
ing answers flew in our direction, replies were quickly given,
and once the whole story was out, we found ourselves in the
midst of a furious mob instead of a simple group of people.
"It's more'n time something was done!" one man shouted
to the rest, his hand a fist in the air. "Are we gonna wait
until the small children are attacked next? Are we men, or are
we spineless cattle?"
"How c'n you talk about doin' somethin' to a Servant o'
blessed Grail?" another man demanded in turn, as angry as
the first but considerably more upset. "We don't want our
village damned to th' end o' eternity! We can't do nothin'
more'n ask th' priest t' leave."
"And if he won't go?" a third voice demanded, and then
Kylin of Arthil was making his way toward the muttering
men. "If he refuses to go, all you'll have to look forward to
is more of the same. Is this what you people really want?"
"You c'n afford t' talk," the second man came back,
glaring at the stranger who was mixing into village business.
"You don't live here, an' it won't be you 'n yours who're

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER
233
damned. An' a follower o' Evon don't have no right talkin' t'
them who follow Grail."
"Why shouldn't those who follow Grail have the same
rights as those who follow Evon?" Kylin countered, looking
around as he spoke. "If a priest of Evon arranged what this
so-called priest of Grail did, he'd never live long enough to
decide he'd made a mistake. And would a real priest of Grail
ever have done this? Doesn't this insanity go against every-
thing Servants have ever taught before? You know your
religion better than I do. Is sending men to attack helpless
women something you've been taught to do by every priest
you've had?"
"It never happened before this new one came," the first
man spoke up, looking around at his fellow villagers. "I
know it and you know it, and there ain't nobody who can say
different. What I say is that he ain't no real priest of Grail,
and we gotta get rid of him."
"You gonna take a chance o' bein' damned forever, Aik?"
the second man asked the first, iooking more as though he
wanted to be convinced rather than wanting to argue. "Y' go
against th' priest, that's wh't c'n happen."
"If he's here talking for Grail, Limis, it don't matter none
if I am damned," the first man answered, looking straight at
his friend. "If Grail ain't Grail no more, I don't want nothing
to do with what he changed to. And if he ain't no real priest
of Grail, leaving him here has gotta be the sin and blas-
phemy. I'm going, and it don't matter to me none if you
come or stay."
The man Aik turned away then, but he didn't walk away
alone. Most of the other men followed him without hesita-
tion, and one of them was his friend Limis. Kylin graciously
let them move ahead and then followed after, willing to let
them see to their own affairs as long as they could. I took my
own turn at following with Indris beside me, and the rest of
the crowd came behind us.
Grail's House had obviously been the modest construction
it was in most villages, but as we came up to it I was able to
see signs of rebuilding and enlarging going on. The new
priest apparently wanted more in the way of comforts than his
predecessor had required, and was having his followers make
the necessary changes. Five men glanced up from the work

234
Sharon Green
they were doing, none of them looking particularly pleased to
be in the middle of something like that, and then they were
stepping back and away, either making themselves a part of
the crowd or quickly getting out of its way.
"Priest, you come out here and talk to us," the man Aik
called, stopping about four feet away from the front door of
the House. "We gotta come in there after you, you ain't
gonna like it."
There was silence for a moment as everyone waited for an
answer to the challenge, and then a figure appeared in the
open doorway. He was tall and slender, not yet into his third
under-decade, and his blond hair was so stylishly proper that
it would have looked out of place above an ordinary Servant's
habit. His habit, however, although it was still brown, seemed
to be made out of a lot better material than sacking, and the
red cord around his waist had to be mostly silk. He looked
arrogantly around at the men who confronted him, then took
one step out into the street.
"How dare you address a priest of Grail that way?" he
hissed, his fury lashing out so sharply that a number of the
men took an involuntary step backwards. "I answer only to
Grail, and it is you who must answer to me!"
"This time it's gonna work the other way around," Aik
came back, calmer than the men behind him. "You sent trash
after some of our women, and we ain't gonna stand still for
it."
"I?" the priest said coldly in deep disapproval, his brows
raised in distant questioning. "I did no such thing. If that's
what you were told you were lied to, most likely by those
whore-like women of yours. Only whores would speak against
a priest of their religion, to keep him from helping their
misguided men see the truth. Grail demands that you beat
them for their filthy lies, and I demand the same!"
His ringing tones kept the men silent for a moment, during
which time some of the women began whimpering. Their
men weren't finding it possible to meet the priest's flashing
eyes, and if that conversation went on much longer they
would end up being victims again. That would have gotten
me mad even if those weren't my father's people; since they
were, I wasn't about to stand there and let it happen.
"I think we can all see there are filthy lies being spoken,

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER	235
but it isn't the women who are speaking them," I said in a
voice loud enough to carry, then began making my way
toward the front of the crowd. "Those men you sent named
you, Priest, and you don't even have the courage to admit
what you did. Doesn't Grail teach that if you're doing some-
thing you're ashamed to admit to, you shouldn't be doing
it?"
The crowd was more than happy to get out of my way, so
it wasn't long before I was standing next to the man Aik,
directly in front of the fashion plate priest. His cold eyes took
note of my unusual attire in a single glance, and then he
sneered.
"How fitting for one whore to take the part of others," he
said, disgust dripping from every word. "What more proof
do you need than that, good men?"
"If what one is dressed in is proof of what they are, then
what are you, Priest?" 1 came back immediately, my fists on
my hips. "I'm dressed this way through no choice of my
own, but you seem to be pleased with what you're wearing.
Since when do priests of Grail dress like members of the
nobility?"
"Priests of Grail have nothing to do with members of the
accursed nobility!" the man hissed, his manner stiffening at
the mutter that ran through the crowd of men. "We wear the
habit that marks us as Grail's chosen Servants, Servants who
are inviolate, Servants who ..."
"Who hire bullies to beat up women?" I interrupted, not
about to let up on the pressure. "There can't be .any question
that you were behind the attack, the messages that sent the
women to that spot came from you. I've never before heard
that Grail needed to force people into worshiping him, and
I've never seen a priest of his that looked anything like you.
Who are you, and why have you come here pretending to be
the priest of a god who would never have the bad taste to
accept anything like you?"
"How dare you?" the man thundered, outraged beyond
bearing, but I'd already made the point I'd wanted to. The
village men were seeing that what I'd said was true, that this
wasn't a priest of their religion, and they therefore had no
reason to be afraid of what they did to him. The man I'd
baited was so enraged he didn't realize that, and with face

236
Sharon Green
twisted in fury raised his right arm to give me a backhanded
slap. Stepping out of the way of the swing wouldn't have
been hard—if there hadn't been so many people around and
behind me, which there were. Knowing I was trapped 1 raised
my own arms, intending to take most of the strength out of
the blow that way, but none of it reached me. A big hand
caught the arm at the wrist, stopping it cold, and then there
were words of matching coldness.
"Attacking women seems to be something you really like,
you slime," Kylin said to him, the strength of his grip
forcing a gasp out of the man he held. "If you're that eager
to hit someone, why don't you try me instead?"
The supposed priest looked up into the face of the man
who held him with fear in his eyes, and that was the final
thing the villagers needed to see. Not only were priests of
Grail forbidden to be violent, it was almost universally ac-
cepted that they were without fear of violence to their own
persons. To accept pain on Grail's behalf was a high blessing
for them, and no true priest would have acted the way that
man did. With a growl the crowd of men pulled him out of
the grip that held him, and carried him off up the street with
them. His screaming protests went ignored and unanswered,
and in just a couple of minutes there were only three of us left
standing in front of Grail's House.
"So much for that," Indris said with satisfaction, just short
of brushing her hands together. "Now we can finally get to
the hospitality you two have more than earned. My house is
this way."
Again she took my arm in a comradely way, glancing over
her shoulder with a smile to include Kylin in on the invita-
tion. I walked along witlrher without doing any of my own
looking back, more than unhappy over what had happened. I
would have preferred getting hit to being saved by that—that—
enemy, but it hadn't happened that way. I could see he was
trying to push me off balance again, but this time I wasn't
about to allow it.
The house we were led to was only two streets away, a
neat, pleasant-looking place that stood alone surrounded by
grass and a yellow fence. The surprisingly large house was
white with blue trim, and Indris gestured to the fence that
didn't quite go with the rest.

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER	237
"My husband was an armorer," she said, explaining rather
than excusing. "That fence let people know which house to
come to when they reached the village, and they used to
come from all over to buy his weapons or his panoplies. I
know I should have had it repainted years ago, but I'm too
much of a sentimental fool. Once it's repainted, the last
vestige of him will be gone. Come on, it*s not so hard on the
eyes from the inside."
She smiled briefly and led the way through the fence to the
house, climbing the three steps quickly and then walking in
through the door. 1 followed right behind her, enjoying the
^dimness and faintly cooler air inside, and was led to a room
to the right, just off the entrance hall. The room had an unlit
hearth of stone against whitewashed walls, plain but neat and
clean window curtains, two small, carved tables and one
larger one, and half a dozen chairs standing here and there in
the otherwise painfully bare room. Indris crossed to the larg-
est of the tables, uncovered a pitcher and poured from it into
two battered metal goblets, then came back to us with the
cups in her hands.
"This is just to start you off," she said with a smile,
handing each of us a cup. "Feel free to help yourselves to the
rest of the brew in the pitcher; there's plenty more where that
came from. I'm going to look for my father. I know he'll
want to meet you, and while he's playing host I'll put a meal
together for you. At the very least, you have to stay the
night."
She patted my arm and nodded to her other guest, and then
she was gone, leaving us alone in the room. I raised my cup
and sipped at the brew I'd been given, wetting a throat and
mouth that had been dry much too long, finding less pleasure
in the effort than I'd been expecting from it. I was glad to
have something to drink again, doubly glad that it was a very
well-made brew with an excellently delicate flavor, but that
was as far as gladness could take me. The minutes dragged
by one after the other, stretching into a considerable chain,
and then the silence was broken.
"This looks like a comfortable, nicely-made house," my
companion remarked from behind my left shoulder, no more
than a casual comment. "Spending the night here should

238
Sharon Green
make up for the last couple of nights we've had to do without
decent beds."
Since there was no answer called for, I didn't make one; all
I did was stand there and sip my brew. In point of fact I
might not have answered even if there had been one called
for, not the way I was feeling.
"All right, I know you're upset with me again," he said
with a sigh, giving up on his attempt at casual conversation.
"You had a weapon and I took it away from you, and your
opinion of me comes clear every time you look at me. All I
want to do is ask you one question: if you were with someone
who was interested in seeing the color of your blood, would
you let them get their hands on a weapon and then let them
keep it? You're not a sweet, shy, young thing who knows
nothing about what to do. Can you blame me for wanting to
stay in one unbroken piece?"
"Yes," I said without turning then fell silent again, the
anger starting to well up inside me. How in hell he always
made everything he did sound so logical and right was beyond
me, but I wasn't about to accept it any longer. He was an
enemy, my enemy, and that's what I had to keep firmly in
mind.
He made a sound of annoyance and seemed about to add to
what he'd already said, but wasn't given the chance. Just then
there was some rather loud throat-clearing, and I turned to see
a man in the doorway from the hall.
"My daughter tells me I owe you two a good deal of
gratitude," he said, smiling as he came farther into the room.
"Evon usually trusts his followers to be able to protect
themselves, but he isn't above lending a hand every now and
again when it's needed. I'm Veslin, and it's a pleasure to
have you as guests beneath our roof."
The man approached us and offered his hand, first to Kylin
and then to me. His hair and beard were completely white,
the skin of his face outdoors-tanned, but his bearing was that
of a man not far into his third under-decade, and his grip had
the strength of a fighting man in his prime. His height was
only a shade above mine and he was slender rather than
muscular, but the look in his light, piercing eyes was so full
of strength and assurance that he seemed almost larger than
life. When his fingers closed around my forearm he smiled

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER
239
again in greeting, and I felt relief at the thought that I wasn't
about to face that man in battle. If I'd had to I would have,
but I felt no doubt that if I did, only Evon's intervention
would have let me walk away again.
"It was our pleasure to be of help," Kylin said when
Veslin turned away from me, apparently as impressed with
the man as I was. "We lost our horse and possessions to
outlaws and thought we'd never see civilization again, but
things turned out right in spite of that. Can you tell us how
far we are from the city of Gensea?"
"The city's only a little more than half a day's ride from
here," Veslin answered while going toward the table with the
pitcher and cups. "There are horses to be had for sale if you
can afford it, or perhaps for loan if you can't. And I think the
young lady could use some clothing, but my daughter will
take care of that. If you like, I'll check around the village for
something for you to wear."
"I'd like," Kylin answered with a grin as Veslin turned
back to him holding brew of his own. "And I can afford to
pay, so there shouldn't be a problem. I'll pay for the girl's
clothes, too."
"That's between you and Indris," Veslin said with an
answering grin and a headshake, tasting his brew. "She
probably won't take even a copper, not the way she's feel-
ing, but that's for her to decide. Her husband left her com-
fortable enough, and with my grandsons gone off to make
names for themselves, she doesn't find much that needs to be
bought. She's not one to be overly interested in frills for
herself."
"It's my only failing," Indris' voice came as she entered
the room, carrying two bowls of something that smelled
really good. "Other than that, I'm just about the perfect
woman. This stew is no more than a snack for you people, to
keep you alive until we sit down to a full meal. If you like,
you can spend the intervening time taking baths and getting
into clean clothes."
The idea of bathing sounded better than the idea of eating,
at least until I tasted the stew. Indris seemed to be one of
those who used magic in her cooking, and even though
missing one meal had hardly left me famished enough to eat
anything not still moving, the generous helping of stew seemed

240
Sharon Green
to disappear too quickly. When I was through and had also
finished a second cup of brew, Indris led me toward the back
of the house while Veslin took Kylin in another direction.
During the meal we'd learned that Indris had already sent one
of the village children to get clothing that would fit Kylin, so
he, too, could get straight to bathing. He and I hadn't ex-
changed another word during that time, which had added to
my enjoyment of the snack.
Our destination turned out to be Indris' large kitchen,
where a wooden tub had been permanently installed in the
floor. Right then it was filled with water that had faint steam
rising from it, and a nearby chair had a neatly folded white
cloth resting on it. Indris gestured to the tub with a smile of
amusement, so I lost no time untying my "sandals" and
pulling off the tunic over my head. Right after that I was
stepping into the deliciously warm water, not having con-
sciously realized sooner how long it was since 1 had last been
able to do that.
"I think that's what I like best about night houses," I said
as I sat down, sighing with pleasure. "You can have sex just
about anywhere, but only in night houses is a hot bath or two
included in the price."
"I know what you mean," Indris said with a laugh, lifting
the folded cloth from the chair and then sitting down with it.
"It was one of the things I liked best about night houses
myself. And I think I was right in my first guess about you.
You're a Blade, aren't you."
It was definitely a statement rather than a question, and I
smiled as I wet my chest and shoulders with the water.
"Yes, I'm a Blade," I agreed, nodding ruefully. "Obvi-
ously not a very successful one right now, but still a Blade—
named Sofaltis."
"A Blade named Sofaltis traveling with a man who won't
let her have a weapon," Indris amplified, the amusement
gone from her. "At first I thought you might be his captive,
but now I'm convinced your situation is more complicated
than that. I—accidentally overheard him trying to apologize
to you for taking the staff away. I was coming in to introduce
my father, but when we heard what was going on between
you, my father decided it would be best if he went in alone
and introduced himself. Your big friend apparently wants to

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER	241
make peace, even though you're not interested in the same. I
know I'm intruding in something that doesn't concern me,
but—is there anything I can do to help?"
"Not unless you have a lot of influence with the King," I
said, losing a good deal of the pleasure I'd had from the bath
water. "I don't want to have anything to do with that man,
but I'm not being given the choice. I'm a Blade who wants to
stay a Blade, but I made the mistake of being born into the
wrong family in the wrong order—at a very bad time. And
don't believe he's as decent as he pretends to be. He may
have other people fooled, but I can see right through him."
JWhich was as close as I could get to telling anyone the truth
of what I'd discovered. Knowing the truth might put Indris
and her father in danger, and I refused to do that to them. I
was the only one who could find a final answer to my
problem, but so far that answer was being very successful in
hiding itself.
"You've been promised to him," Indris said after a brief
hesitation, the confusion in her eyes clearing as she under-
stood the point. "You're a Blade, but you've still been
promised to him. Is your father so unreasonable that you
can't speak to him about how you feel?"
"Right now my father has even less choice than I do," I
said with a sigh, feeling the walls of the trap rising up around
me again. "He didn't know I was a Blade and by the time he
found out it was too late, but it wouldn't have mattered even
if he'd known. The Law refuses to accept the fact that any
woman might have a mind of her own, so I'm not allowed a
say in the matter. Damned if I don't have my say anyway,
one way or the other."
"1 see," she said, clearly having heard my last words even
though I'd muttered them. "You're a Blade who's been
promised in marriage, and you hate the idea so much you've
decided to fight it along with everyone involved. That's why
you refused to listen to that apology."
"That wasn't my only reason," I said, looking up at the
flatness of her tone. She was staring at me with an expression
I couldn't quite read, one that seemed to be filled with
understanding but not agreement. "And you said you were a
Blade yourself. You made your own choice about what to do
with your life, but how would you have liked it if someone

242
Sharon Green
had tried forcing you into the choice? Would that have been
fair just because you're a woman?"
"You might say I was forced into the choice," she came
back, smiling faintly as she rose from the chair. "I didn't
want to give up being a Blade any more than you do, but I
was forced to change my mind. I'll pour us some tasil and
then tell you what happened."
She went to the wide hearth and lifted a tasil pot that was
sitting close enough to the fire to keep its contents warm,
then poured the pale brown liquid into two cups. When she
handed me one of the cups, I found that she'd gotten that
perfect balance of really good tasil: light enough not to be
bitter, heavy enough to have body and taste. It had also been
made with the faintest hint of honey, an enhancement rather
than an addition.
"That's much better," she said as she sat on the chair
again, having tasted the tasil herself. "Stories come out more
easily when you have something to wet the path of the words.
As I began saying a minute ago, 1 was a Blade who felt the
way you probably feel now: I'd earned something most women
don't, enjoyed having and being that something, and had no
intentions of giving it up. It didn't matter to me what other
women did with their lives, I wasn't like other women so
their standards didn't apply. And then I met Javin, who had
been invited in by our Company captain, to make whatever
might be needed by any of our Blades."
She sighed as she said that, sipping at her tasil, the look in
her dark eyes having begun receding to another time and
place.
"My sword had gotten badly nicked in the last fight we'd
been in, and honing it had done more to weaken it than
sharpen it up again," she continued. "I went to Javin's tent
to see if he had anything I'd be willing to put in my scabbard,
and found that his work was the best I'd ever seen. We
dickered a while over the price of a sword, came to an
agreement, and then Javin asked me to have the evening meal
with him. I'd liked the looks of him right from the first, so
thinking he had nothing but sex in mind I accepted his
invitation.
"That meal was the first of many, but it didn't end with
the sex I'd thought it would. I didn't understand why Javin

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER	243
hadn't made the suggestion, but since he took care of it a few
nights later the point didn't seem important. Back then I
didn't real understand how some men think, and maybe that
was for the best. If I'd know what he had in mind, 1 probably
would have run.
'it was the very day my sword was ready that he decided
the time was right," she said, sighing deepiy a second time.
"He arranged a special meal for us in a high-priced tavern in
the good part of the city, paying for a private room, and when
the meal was over he asked me to marry him. The first thing I
did was laugh, thinking he was joking, but when I saw he
w^s serious I immediately refused. 1 was a Blade, you under-
stand, and even though I felt things for Javin that I'd never
felt for any other man, all I wanted was to stay a Blade.
"Apparently Javin had been expecting that response, and
had his arguments and explanations all ready. He told me that
he hadn't invited me to bed those first couple of nights
because he wanted to get to know me without sex getting in
the way. Like a lot of men who had sex any time they wanted
it, he was trying to find out if his interest went beyond rolling
around in bed. Once he found it did, he didn't have to abstain
any longer, and was at the point of wanting to marry me. I
was upset but I refused him a second time, and that was when
he explained why he thought I was wrong.
"He said he could understand my not wanting to give up
what I'd earned, but if I looked at the question carefully I'd
find that it was my duty to do it anyway. Special women
show themselves to be special by what they accomplish, but
they have to work so hard doing it that they don't want to
give up what they've earned after they've earned it. That
usually meant the women's abilities were lost through not
being passed on to their children, leaving only the second-rate
to pass on what little they had. It wasn't fair that a woman
who was a Blade couldn't pass on her abilities while continu-
ing to be a Blade the way men did, but it was women who
were made to bear children and nothing could be done to
change that. I had gotten what made me me from others who
hadn't refused to pass on what they had, but I wasn't willing
to do the same for those who were supposed to come after
me. I'd had the opportunity to show what I could do, but if I
refused to allow others the same chance there was nothing

244
Sharon Green
more anyone could say. He took me back to my barracks
then, and for the next week didn't even try talking to me."
"Probably in an effort to increase the guilt he'd piled on
you," I said, disliking the entire argument she'd been sub-
jected to. "I wonder how fast he would have given up being
an armorer if your positions had been reversed. I've noticed
that when people talk about duty, they usually mean other
people's duty, never their own."
"It so happens that was exactly the way I felt," she said,
smiling now with increased amusement. "I thought he was
trying to talk me into something he'd never do himself, and
then I found out what he'd neglected to mention: he'd been a
Fighter and a damned good one, but had given it up when his
abilities as an armorer had been discovered. I heard two of
the Company Blades talking about it, how hard it was sup-
posed to have been getting him to give up using weapons in
favor of making them, but they were damned glad it had been
managed. The new abilities he exercised helped everyone
rather than just himself and those few around him, and hear-
ing that really did make me stop and think. The world wasn't
a pleasant enough place to make many people want to sacri-
fice themselves for it, but maybe it was that unpleasant
because so many had refused the sacrifice in the past. And
then 1 asked myself just exactly what it was that I was being
talked into giving up."
"Why—you were being talked into giving up your life and
your freedom," 1 said, stumbling over the words her eyes had
challenged me to supply. "You had earned the right to be a
Blade, and should have been left to be that in peace. Instead
you were being urged to trade freedom for the chains of
marriage, the chains your ability had until then let you avoid.
It simply wasn't fair."
"And fairness is important," she said with a nod, still
smiling. "It didn't matter that I had to be better than the men
around me in order to be a Blade in the first place, because it
wasn't a matter of fairness—it was a matter of survival. But
we were discussing what I was being asked to give up, and
my view of it then doesn't quite match yours now. I wasn't
really being asked to give up what I'd earned, because I'd
already earned it and nothing could change that. If I'd stayed
with my Company, I would have kept active Blade status—

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER	245
until the day I lost it in a fight the permanent, final way. And
as far as freedom goes—do you need to be in one special
place doing one special thing in order to be free? If you're
really free, you're free wherever you are and whatever you're
doing. I discovered that I wanted to exercise my freedom
with Javin, and never found myself regretting the decision."
"A decision that was still made by yon," I said, finding
that I didn't care to dwell on what she'd said. "It wasn't one
made for you by others without once asking your opinion,
making you feel like an unimportant, unconsulted slave. Paying
back what you owe isn't quite as easy when you've been
made to feel you don't owe anyone anything."
"I can see where that would make a difference," she
granted, her gaze touched with a trace of sympathy. "Javin
did his best to try forcing me into wanting to marry him, but
if his plans hadn't worked he wouldn't have accepted an
unwilling bride. Have you told your big friend anything at all
about how you feel?"
"Until my throat was dry and raw with the effort," I said,
nodding in disgust. "He has his own reasons for wanting to
marry me, and couldn't care less that I'm unwilling. That's
one of the reasons he's being very careful not to let me get
my hands on a weapon. He knows what will happen if I do."
"You say he doesn't care that you're unwilling," she came
back, considering the point with a frown. "I know this
probably won't make much difference to you, but—have you
considered the possibility that he can't give you up? He
seemed to be trying awfully hard to smooth things over,
which he wouldn't have done if he simply didn't care. Any
man can take an unwilling bride, but to take an unwilling
Blade? When he knows what she's capable of? Either he has
to be completely insane—or so helplessly in love that no one
can tell the difference. Which do you think it is?"
She was looking at me with her head to one side, the
question hanging in the air between us, her faint smile doing
nothing to help me think. It was preposterous suggesting that
he might be in love with me, but what she'd said— Why was
he insisting on going through with it all? Simply because he
was an enemy? But being an enemy didn't mean he was
stupid, and surely he knew how close I was getting to decid-
ing to end my problems by ending him? If I killed him

246
Sharon Green
without witnesses around, it was conceivable I might get
away with calling it an unfortunate accident, which would
leave his people out in the cold—right along with his unmov-
ing carcass. And if what I thought didn't matter to him, as it
shouldn't have, why did he continue to insist that it did? In
order to fool me? But if I wasn't being fooled, why didn't he
stop? And why had he been so upset about not having
satisfied me? Because he was pretending to be nice? But why
pretend? Why, why, why, why, why?
"Maybe you'd better start washing now," Indris said,
rising from the chair to take the cup I was simply holding and
staring at. "That water cools rather quickly, and sitting in
cold, dirty water isn't much fun."
"No, it isn't," I agreed, doing my best to push away the
confusion of the thoughts rattling around in my head. It felt
like I'd been sitting in cold, dirty water for quite some time,
and it was going to take more than washing to get me out of
it. It was going to take thinking, which I would get to as soon
as I was out of that bath.

Chapter 11
I spent the time until the meal was ready in a small sitting
room not far from the kitchen, relaxing in a rocking chair and
trying to wade through the mire in my mind. The only clothes
Indris had had to give me was a long-skirted red print dress
that no longer fit her, and although it wasn't quite as long on
me it wasn't in any way short—or even close to the leathers I
was used to wearing. I had been given a real pair of sandals
to go along with it, but if I hadn't been so distracted its very
full skirt and short sleeves would have driven me close
to—distraction.
I sat and rocked and tried to get my thoughts in order, but
the more I thought the more confused I became. All those
whys kept flying around, refusing to resolve themselves, until
I was forced to ask myself some very pointed questions. Was
Kylin my enemy and the enemy of my family? Yes. Did it
really matter why he was doing what he seemed to be doing?
No. Could it all be part of some devious plan he or his
cohorts had come up with? Certainly. If I let any of it affect
me, would that be disloyal to my family? Damned right it
would be, so what difference did the rest of it make?
"It only makes a difference if you take up being stupid for
a hobby," I muttered to myself, reaching for the cup of brew
I'd been given to keep me company. "If what Indris said was
true and he does have some unexpected feelings for you, that
only makes things worse, not better. If he'd been prepared to
give up his original plans and friends, he would have said so
days ago to further his cause. That he didn't say so means he
won't, so all you can do is go on doing what you've been
doing."
247

248
Sharon Green	*
A beautifully clear and concise conclusion, I thought as I
took a swallow of the brew. It looks like I've just decided to
continue going as crazy as I've been going, but of course I
could be wrong. Maybe it means I'll be going even crazier.
"Damn it, it's him you've got to drive crazy," I muttered
out loud again, realizing that craziness was something I seemed
to be very well qualified to deal with, and then the rest of the
thought clarified itself. "If you push him out of whatever he
thinks he feels for you, he'll wake up to the danger he's in
from an unhappy Blade and will probably get smart enough to
walk away from the ungodly mess. If he doesn't, you can
always fall back on that 'accident' idea."
That suddenly seemed to make a lot of sense, but it didn't
give me much time to put it into effect. We'd be leaving the
village the following morning and would be at my father's
castle not far past midday, so I'd have to—
"Indris asked me to tell you the food is ready, so why
don't you come and join us now?" a voice interrupted my
thinking, causing me to look up and see Veslin. He had
opened the door and stepped into the room, and smiled when
my eyes were on him. "I knocked before coming in, but
when I didn't get an answer I thought you might have fallen
asleep. Whatever it was you were so deep in must be fairly
important."
"Fair to middling," I agreed as I rose from the chair,
taking my cup of brew with me. "But I think I have it all
straightened out now."
"Good," he said with a warmer smile, opening the door
wider to give me room to follow him out. I could see he had
changed clothes from earlier in the day, but was still wearing
the same black and white combination he'd previously had
on. "If you need a friendly ear or even an opinion on
something, don't forget I'm here. Evon doesn't ask that we
handle all our problems by ourselves, only the ones we
must."
"I know that and I'll remember it," I said with a smile of
my own, committing to nothing but remembering. The must
of my problem was clear enough to me, and I didn't really
want it any other way.
The large kitchen had had a table for eating at in it, but Indris
had apparently decided her company deserved to eat in her

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER	249
dining hall. The room was tiny compared to my father's, of
course, but for a house that size, bigger than what was
usually found in a village, it was more than adequate. The
board, of a size to fit the room, was being used double-sided,
with chairs at each end and one in the middle of each of the
long sides. Indris seemed to be adding the very last of the
dishes as her father and 1 walked in, leaving Kylin to come
up to us alone. He was now dressed in dark gray trousers and
a tan shirt, both of homespun that had seen better days, %ut
there were no ruffles or fancy folds that his brown boots had
to work to overcome. With the new outfit, even his red
swordbelt looked less ridiculous, and his silvered hilt didn't
look ridiculous at all.
"I think these last couple of days have spoiled me," he
said with a smile, looking down at me with eyes brightened
by lamplight. "I've spent these few hours we've been apart
missing you, and I'm glad you're here now, especially in that
dress. It really suits you."
"Not as well as leathers do," I answered, looking away
from him and making sure he didn't take my hand the way he
was trying to do. "As soon as I get home, I'll be changing
back."
"No sense in standing around, let's sit down," Veslin said
into the following silence, saving me from any more of what
I'd just had to listen to. I hated it when my enemy spoke that
way, making me feel strange and stupid, distracting me from
what I knew I had to do. Reacting to nonsense like that made
me mad, which was a benefit any way you looked at it. When
it comes to playing games with an enemy, mad is a thousand
times better than stupid.
"Sofaltis, you sit here," Indris said from the chair in the
middle of the near side of the board, watching calmly as we
came toward her and pretending she hadn't heard anything of
the recent exchange. "Kylin, the place opposite Sofalits is
yours, and father, yours is where it always is. Let's get to this
food before it goes cold and tasteless."
Veslin walked around to the right of my place to hold
indris' chair while she sat, and I had to endure the same from
a man who was working hard not to be discouraged. Kylin
ignored the fact that I was ignoring him and his efforts, and
in another minute or so everyone was seated. Veslin poured

250
Sharon Green	*
the wine while Indris started the food passing around, and
happily the cooking was more than good enough to take my
mind off everything else.
Our host and hostess carried most of the conversation
during the meal, and after a short while it wasn't difficult
seeing that they had decided to "help out" just a little. One
or the other would ask Kylin a question, listen to his answer,
and then try coaxing me into joining the dicussion. The object
of their solicitude did his own part in the effort, but I'd
decided that vast disinterest in everything discussed was the
most useful attitude I could have. Combined with distraction,
it worked out very well.
"... and I can't understand what Prince Traffis expects to
gain from starting that war," Indris said at one point, taking
up a remark made by Veslin. "Even if he happens to defeat
the King, no one will accept him as legitimate ruler. He'll
have every noble and peasant against him, every hand that
can hold a weapon. Without a single tie to any of the noble
families and without a single friend, ending the first war will
win him nothing but the start of a second."
"Only as long as he doesn't have any of those friends you
just mentioned," Kylin said, continuing with his food even as
he spoke, "if it turns out that he does have unexpected
backing, there might not be enough people willing to start a
second all-out war. The Kingdom will be occupied by his
foreign troopk, we'll have looting and rape and all kinds of
brutalities to cope with, too many people will decide to
change sides just to save their worthless necks, and no one
will know who can be trusted. At that point, whatever offi-
cials are left just might decide to salvage what they can by
acknowledging Traffis and asking him to curb his followers.
Once something like that starts it's usually impossible to stop,
and when the final dust clears Traffis will have the entire
Kingdom."
"With only scattered pockets of resistance for his troops to
handle whenever they please," Indris said with a nod, disgust
in her tone. "Yes, I know it can happen that way just as it
has in other places at other times, so we'll have to hope
Traffis does prove to be all alone. What do you think,
Sofaltis?"
"My Company didn't find his troops all that hard to han-

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER	251
die," I said with a shrug, paying more attention to my wine
than to what I was saying. "When I get back to the north, I'll
make a special effort to see that there are a lot fewer of them
left to do any looting and raping afterward. If there is that
sort of an afterward."
There was something of a silence after that, one I pre-
tended I didn't notice, and then the man sitting across from
me made a sound showing the annoyance he'd been holding
in for most of the meal.
"Tisah, I really am getting tired of repeating myself,"
Kylin said, the annoyance sharp in his voice. "We've been
otfer this and over it, but you still refuse to accept it like an
adult. You won't be going back north to your Company,
you'll be staying in the south and getting married. To me.
Whether you admit it or not, that's the way it will be."
"What has the marriage got to do with anything?" 1 asked,
leaning forward to look over the selection of small cakes
standing on the table not far from me. "I may not have any
choice about going through with it, but it's come to me that
that makes no real difference at all. If I have to go through
with the marriage I will, and then I'll just go back to my
Company. That way no one can throw any fits."
Having mentioned fits, I couldn't help noticing that the
man who was so anxious to marry me was about to have one
of his own. His skin darkened as his fist closed tight around
the copper goblet he held, and his words broke through the
change of subject Indris had been hastily trying to make.
"The hell you'll be going back to your Company after the
wedding," he growled, his light eyes darkening even as he
stared at me. "I don't believe in absentee wives, especially
not when it's a war they plan on being absent seeing to.
You'll stay with your husband, just the way a wife is sup-
posed to."
"Says who?" I countered, laughing at him over the rim of
my cup. "If I'm not mistaken, the Law has nothing at all to
say on the point so that means I can do as I please. Anyone
trying to stop me will have only one way of doing it, and I
think we all know how that anyone feels about the one way.
I'm a Blade and I intend acting like one—any time I feel like
it."
"The Law doesn't have to say anything about what a wife

252
Sharon Green	*
does," he countered, his left hand closed around the smaller
bandage that now replaced the one I'd put on him the day
before. "All wives do the same, which is what she and her
husband decide she'll do. If you expect me to decide to let
you ride off wherever you please, you'll find the fault in
your reasoning when all that wine you've been swallowing
wears off."
"It takes a lot more wine than this to get me drunk," I
said, still purposely finding the conversation extremely amus-
ing. "I know because I've been drunk, just as I've been a lot
of other things Blades tend to be. If the Law says I have to
marry you then I will, but after that the choice is mine. You
won't have any trouble making the proper excuses, will
you?"
The small, half-hidden smile I gave him added fuel to the
fire just the way I expected it to, already digging away at the
attraction he felt for the helpless little female he was so
concerned about. If I killed the attraction and concern to-
gether I knew I'd have what I wanted and needed, but I had
to be sure not to notice the hurt and confusion shadowed
behind his annoyance and irritation. He was nothing but an
enemy, and enemies deserved to be hurt and confused.
"I think it's time I showed our guests my study," Veslin
said to Indris before my bristling antagonist could decide on
what to argue about next, rising from his chair with his wine
cup still in his hand. "You'll rejoin us later, of course."
"Certainly, father, as soon as I'm through with what needs
taking care of," Indris answered with pleasantness and a nod,
also rising from her chair. "No, no, Sofaltis, 1 won't hear of
your helping me, especially since I know how much you'll
enjoy seeing my father's study. You go along with the others,
and I'll join you all later when I'm ready."
I hadn't wanted to go anywhere the argument would be
able to continue, but the single delaying tactic I'd found it
possible to think of had been shot down like a solitary,
low-flying bird. It was either be rude to my hosts by simply
walking out of the room and ignoring where they wanted me
to go, or staying with it and bracing against the time I'd need
to launch another attack. From Kylin's expression I knew
beyond doubt that we would be into it again sooner or later,
but I also knew that no matter how distasteful I found the

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER	253
situation, I had to stay with it. Walking away would probably
ruin everything I'd done until then, and I had even less
stomach for starting over.
"Well, if you're sure you don't need the help," I said to
Indris, then turned to Veslin with a smile as I got to my feet.
"I think my curiosity is aroused. Is your study the place this
house's weapons are kept? I couldn't hefrp noticing that for an
armorer's house that a priest of Evon now lives in, there isn't
much in the way of steel showing."
"My daughter and 1 have our personal weapons, but we've
lost the habit of wearing them," Veslin answered, putting a
hand out to me before beginning to lead the way out of the
room. "Aside from that, whatever Javin completed before he
died has long since been sold. Indris and I both felt that to
keep his final efforts as some sort of tribute to his memory
would have been not only unnecessary, but totally against
that very same memory. No one who knew Javin will ever
forget him, most especially not the woman who loved him
and whom he loved, and his work was meant to be used, not
hung on a wall somewhere like things that have no other,
more important purpose. His weapons will save lives that
inferior weapons would have lost, and that's the only tribute
to his memory he would have wanted."
As I followed Veslin toward the back of the house I
nodded in agreement with what he'd said, but couldn't help
feeling a good deal of disappointment. If I wanted to solve
my problem of being unarmed, it looked like rifling the
rooms of my hosts was the only way 1 was going to do it.
We walked through a narrow hall that was lit only by a
small lamp at its far end, the dimness making it seem that the
hall dead-ended at the lamp without giving access to anything
other than that lamp and the wall it hung on. We were nearly
at the end and I was about to say something, when Veslin
moved to the left and opened a door I hadn't been able to see
sooner. Once I was on top of it I could see it easily enough,
and then I forgot everything else in favor of what it opened
on.
"This is my study," Veslin announced unnecessarily, step-
ping completely aside so as not to block sight of any part of
the room. It wasn't very large, but as I moved through the
doorway I could see that almost every inch of wall space was

254
Sharon Green	*
taken up by shields, shields of every size and description, of
every color of every House, of countries I recognized and
those I didn't. The floor was polished wood and black leather
chairs stood around with an occasional table or two, but
nothing else was in the way to distract someone from all
those beautiful shields. I turned in a slow circle, trying to
take it in all at once, and then Kylin mentioned the point I'd
noticed almost immediately.
"They're all broken," he said, turning slowly the way I
was doing, just as captured as I was. "They must all have
come from different battlefields. How many of their owners
lived through whatever broke their shields?"
"Unfortunately, not many," Veslin answered, his voice
sounding sad. "In some countries, no gentleman enters battle
without a shield showing his device, and after a while, when
his reputation has begun growing, that brings him those who
will search out known fighters in a battle. The more well-
known his device, the greater the number who will seek him,
and after a certain amount of time the numbers have to go
against even the best."
"I've heard of the custom," I said, looking at one long
shield that had obviously taken a lance or spear in its center.
The device was a wild cat of some sort, golden on a bar of
red, but the weapon that had entered it had obliterated the
head and face of the cat. "I've never considered it a very
smart custom, not when the boast of who you are can quickly
make it become who you were"
"Even the most cautious fighter tends to suffer from the
same blind spot," Veslin said with a sadness-banishing chuckle.
"If you're a Blade, then I have gold to wager on the fact that
you wore your Company's medallion right out where every-
one could see it, especially if you happen to be a member of a
Fist. Do you need to be told that the stone indicating a Fist
draws as many challengers as almost any device you might
see here?"
"No," I admitted with a chuckle of my own, glancing
around to share the amusement showing in his light, piercing
eyes. "I am a member of a Fist, so I'd be a fool to take your
bet. The ones who were almost sure they could take one of us
went after Jak or Foist or Ham, while the ones who were
utterly convinced went after Rull. I usually got the ones who

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER	255
were a little less than almost sure, the ones who thought they
were playing it safe just in case. It never occurred to them
that if I couldn't handle it, someone would have proved that
long before they got there."
An odd sound came from the third person in the room, and
Veslin and I looked around to see that Kylin had turned his
attention from the shields and was walking slowly back and
forth across the floor. It was almost as if he were forcing
himself to walk slowly and calmly, forcing himself to let go
of very great anger, and I couldn't imagine what was wrong
with him. Veslin's eyes suddenly filled with half-amused
compassion as he rubbed at his face with two fingers, and
then he turned toward the part of the room that was to the far
left of the door we'd entered by.
"Why don't you two come over here, and I'll pour us all
some wine I don't share with just anyone," he said, moving
to a large, round table surrounded by chairs. "I also have
something rather special to show you, and since a story goes
along with it the wine can be considered a necessity."
There were five well-stuffed black leather chairs around the
table, but what was on the table did more to take one's
attention than the prospect of sitting comfortably. Aside from
a crystal pitcher and half a dozen crystal goblets, the table
beld a black leather box trimmed heavily with silver. The box
wasn't quite long enough to take a decent-sized dagger, but it
was about eight inches high or more, and the top of it was
hinged as if it were a miniature trunk. The keyhole in its
front, just below where the top of it met the body, seemed
more ornate than most keyholes tend to be, leading an ob-
server to wonder what sort of key it took to open the box.
"Now, that's what I call interesting," Kylin said as he
joined us at the table, letting his eyes move over the box.
Whatever had been bothering him a minute ago seemed to be
gone now, and I couldn't help noticing that he was very close
on my right. If I hadn't been alert for a move like that he
might have boxed me in, but his version of tactics did nothing
more than accomplish his own outflanking. When he ac-
cepted a cup of wine from Veslin and sat down in the chair
right beside me, he looked up to see that I'd moved to my left
before accepting a cup, and was therefore taking my own seat
with an empty chair between us. He then had the choice of

256
Sharon Green	*
making himself look foolish by moving, or staying where he
was. A moment of thought convinced him to stay where he
was, but the lamplight reflected the darkening of his eyes.
"Yes, interesting is what I thought too when I first saw the
box," Veslin agreed with Kylin's comment, sitting to my left
with his own silver-filled goblet. The crystal of the cup let the
color of the wine show through, making it sparkle and flow
as though we held cupfuls of moonlight. "It came to me a
number of years ago, from the man who had done most to put
an edge on my battle skills—and who had also been a priest
of Evon. It had been years since I'd seen him last, and
startled is too mild a word to describe what I felt when he
sent for me. I hadn't even known he was in Gerfid, the town
near where my unit was fighting."
Veslin slid forward in his chair and reached to the box,
using one finger to gently flip open its lid. The inside of the
box was lined with black velvet, and when I also leaned
forward just a little 1 could see the pure, shining silver of
what lay on the velvet. For an instant it flamed so bright I
could make out nothing but the fact of silver, and then the
glow settled down to separate into—two silver bracers!
"But they're not a pair," I said, feeling, even as I said the
words, that the protest was incorrect. It somehow seemed that
the two bracers, mismatched in size though they were, be-
longed not simply together but almost in the same volume of
air. If they had both been the same size, I think I would have
looked for the mirror reflecting the image of a single creation.
"They may not be a pair, but they have an interesting story
behind them," Veslin said, now sitting back and sipping at
his wine. "They were the reason my friend had sent for me,
knowing as he did that he was dying. Go ahead, the two of
you. 1 don't mind if you try them."
It came to me then that Kylin was also leaning forward in
his chair, as taken by the sight of the bracers as I was. I
didn't know about him, but it had been all I could do to keep
my hand from reaching out to the glowing beauty of what the
box contained, as though I were a small child entranced by
the glory of a flower or butterfly. I put down the goblet of my
untasted wine and wiped my palms on the skirt of my dress,
knowing I ought to be assuring Veslin that I didn't have to
touch something that beautiful to appreciate it. I knew I

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER	257
should refuse that outrageous a liberty even though it was so
freely offered, but 1 found that I couldn't. I licked dry lips
and tried to make the words come out, but simply couldn't. 1
had to touch that silver glory, I simply had to.
I couldn't swear that my hand wasn't trembling as I reached
down toward the box, and was only faintly aware of the fact
that another hand was reaching at the same time from my
right. I'd thought at first that the box wasn't large enough to
accommodate two hands reaching into it, but I had slid my
fingers inside the smaller bracer and was lifting it out when I
realized that the same was being done with the other. For the
briefest instant I was aware of that, and then I was aware of
nothing but the silver magnificence 1 held.
Whoever had made that bracer had to be as much of an
artisan as an armorer. It was engraved with the most complex
design I had ever seen, a pattern that sent my gaze deep into
its intricacies and lost it there, forcing it to retreat in confu-
sion rather than letting it find its way out. The bracer itself
was thick, a good quarter inch of weight my fingers hadn't
been expecting, worth a small fortune in coin if it was silver
through and through, worth a good deal less to a fighter if it
was. Silver is too soft a metal to stand up well in the place it
would be needed, especially as a bracer, doubly especially
with anyone who had been trained to use a bracer in place of
a shield. I could imagine it breaking along with the arm it
clung to at the first heavy blow it was asked to stop, but then
the image flickered and disappeared. Something about the
bracer said it would not fail, no matter how hard a blow came
to it, and its beauty would not let me disbelieve.
It was the fingers of my right hand that held it up while I
inspected it closely, but it was the fingers of my left that
began working their way through the bracer's curving sides,
pulling my wrist and arm after them. For a moment I was
upset that I was slipping it on, feeling barely worthy enough
to be allowed to look at it, but then I remembered that Veslin
had said I could try it. The metal was cool and as smooth as
fine silk, not a burr or a rough spot that my skin could detect,
and once it was on it felt a lot lighter than it had when I'd
simply been holding it. It wasn't terribly big, stretching no
more than six inches or so up my arm, but its curving sides
held it tightly in place, almost as though it were deliberately

258
Sharon Green	*
wrapping itself all around and holding on. When 1 turned my
arm over there was almost no skin showing between the curve
of its edges, which for some reason was faintly surprising.
"They seem to fit you two rather well, don't they?" Veslin
said, and it came to me that those were the first words he'd
said in quite some time. I glanced up to see that Kylin had
also put on the bracer he'd taken from the box, and that he
looked as though he'd just awakened from sleep. "They
aren't silver, of course, only made to look like it, and the cost
is the least of it. Who would want to go into battle wearing
silver bracers?"
"No one I know," Kylin said with a small laugh, looking
down again at the bracer on his arm. I couldn't help doing the
same, and then I laughed too. The bracer was beautiful, all
right, but now that I looked at it more closely, I could see
that silver was the last thing it was.
"These bracers came to my friend as part of a legend,"
Veslin said, sipping with enjoyment at his wine. "While he
was in full health he never believed any part of the legend,
but once he began ailing it seemed to prey on his mind. He'd
been given the box by an old friend of his many years earlier,
just before that old friend had died. That's when he first
heard the story, and by the time I reached him he was
burningly desperate to pass both story and box along to me.
Please drink up, I think you'll find this wine worth the
tasting."
I saw I wasn't alone in having put my glass of wine down,
and smiled to myself over how absurdly eager I'd been to try
on a bracer that was pretending to be silver. The wine was
silver, a silver classer from the eastern mountains, and once
I'd retrieved my cup and tasted it saw that Veslin was right. It
was worth a good deal more than a single sip, and possibly
even more than a bracer that fit too well to be real silver.
"It seems that the story involved is one you may have
heard before," Veslin said, smiling at the very positive reac-
tions to his special wine. "Most people have heard the legend
of the time the gods battled, one or two of them trying to
establish supremacy over the rest. Even men were caught up
in that war, either as innocent victims of the forces unleashed
by the terrible meetings, or as tools of the god or gods they
followed. Those were the times whole forests went up in

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER	259
flames, flowing rivers suddenly went dry, and entire sections
of the eastern mountains were thrown shattered to the ground."
"I doubt if there's anyone alive who wasn't raised hearing
those stories," Kylin said with a grin, the reaction of most
educated people of our time who spoke of the legend. "I've
heard it said that most of those things really did happen, but
not for the reason the old storytellers insist."
"The storytellers also insist that belief in the war has been
taken away from men, so that it can be started up again some
day," Veslin said, matching Kylin's grin. "Whatever the
truth, the legend goes on to say that Evon was involved in
tbat war in some way, and came down to our world to live
among men for a time. While he was here he made a very
special panoply, weapons and armor meant to be used against
the spreading of evil, forging the lot and crafting it only
partly in the way of men. Every bit of it was made of silver,
but certainly not of ordinary silver, and when the last piece of
it was done he called a selected number of his followers to
him. These followers he named his priests, and into the care
of each he gave a different part of the panoply, instructing
them to carry the parts out into the world, to find those who
were worthy of bearing those parts into battle against the evil
which threatened men and gods alike."
"Which, I've heard, is the reason priests of Evon don't
preach like priests of other gods," I put in, adding my own
amusement to the general atmosphere. "They'll council other
followers of Evon, but they don't preach because they have
that other, more important task given them. I suppose it's
never occurred to those who say that, that priests of Evon
don't have to preach. Only weapons-wielders follow Evon,
and becoming a fighter or a Blade is a conversion of sorts in
itself."
"That's very true," Veslin said with a smile, completely
relaxed in his chair. "If someone is to learn weapons skill
and become any good at it, the basic decision has to come
from him, not from someone talking him into it. Priests of
Evon don't have anything to preach about, so we spend our
time offering advice, marrying people, fighting with our units—
and discussing legends.
"Which brings us back to the legend we've been discuss-
ing. Once the original war was over, with Evon's side having

260
Sharon Green	*
won, the pieces of the panoply were supposed to have been
returned into the care of his priests, to be held until the next
time they were needed. An interesting aspect of the legend
says that if someone attracts one part of the panoply to him in
time of need, other parts of it will be drawn to that one
if other worthy wielders aren't to be easily had. I don't really
understand how that's supposed to happen, any more than I
understand how the pieces are supposed to be able to—divide
themselves, you might say—to double their number in case
there are two to be outfitted. The whole thing is fascinating,
to say the least."
"And that's the story you were told by your friend," Kylin
said, his expression matching the priest's interest. "If it were
true and you were the new custodian of a part of the panoply,
you'd have to be out there in the world now, looking for
people who were worthy of wearing Evon's gifts, instead of
sitting back comfortably in this house. You could hardly
expect them to show up in this village, and if I were in your
place 1 don't think I'd care for having to leave here. You
must be glad the gods haven't decided to go to war again."
"Oh, yes, more than glad," Veslin agreed soberly, but for
some reason there was a glint of amusement in his very light
eyes. "And you're right, of course, about not being able to
expect the worthy to simply walk up to my door and knock.
Being young and a fighter during the time the gods go to war
must be a time of living life to its fullest, but I'm afraid I'm
past the age for a true appreciation of something like that.
Battle loses its matchless appeal, when it's your sons and
grandsons who must face it rather than yourself. You're
happy for them and in no way envious, but it isn't quite the
same."
"I can understand that," I said, wondering at the odd look
that flickered briefly in his eyes, almost a combination of fear
and sadness. "Being in a battle yourself is much better than
standing back and watching other people doing the fighting.
You might say it gets in your blood."
"You might also say it sometimes gets the blood out of
you," the big fool to my right put in, sounding annoyed,
jumping in as though I'd been talking to him as well as to
Veslin. "There comes a time in everyone's life when they
have to leave the games of childhood for the responsibilities

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER	261
of an adult. It's natural to feel regret over the loss, but no rpal
adult tries to hang onto the playthings of a child."
Veslin raised his cup to his lips again, but not before I
caught the beginnings of a smile of amusement. Apparently
he understood what Kylin was talking about, and found some-
thing funny in it. I, however, hadn't the faintest idea of what
his babbling was supposed to mean, s© I had no trouble
ignoring it.
"Do you think your friend gave you the bracers for a
reason?" I asked Veslin, still looking only at him. "I mean,
other than the fact that he was dying and felt that he had to
pass them on?"
"It's possible he chose me because he knew of my collec-
tion," Veslin answered, waving a hand at the walls around us
and what they held. "I've been collecting broken shields
since I was very young, visiting other lands to see what sights
they had to offer. I couldn't keep them with me, of course,
but Indris' mother lived in a city in those days, so sending
them to her to keep for me was more expensive than difficult.
During one leave I took my friend home with me, and the
collection was the second thing I showed him."
"What was the first?" 1 asked, wondering what he might
have had that was more exciting than those fascinating shields.
"The first was my sons," he said with a gentle smile, his
light gaze holding mine. "A man is always proudest of his
sons and daughters, as well as of the woman who gave them
to him. My woman would be with me yet, if Evon hadn't
found a need for her at Home. Indris came to us long past the
time her brothers were grown and gone on their way in the
world, a blessing for us but not for her. She was still a very
small child when her mother was called Home, which made it
necessary for her to be raised by her father. Poor thing, she
was a Blade almost as soon as she could walk, courtesy of a
man who didn't have enough else to occupy him. I find it a
matter of great pride that she managed her life with as much
happiness as she has, and now enjoys my company. Her
mother must have watched over us, for her to have turned out
as well as she did."
"But what's wrong with her having been a Blade?" I
asked, confused over what he'd said—and how he'd said it.

262
Sharon Green	*
"It's an accomplishment not every woman can claim, but you
make it sound as if there's a-—taint—of some sort to it."
"No, child, not a taint," he answered, having no trouble
finding the words he wanted. "A woman's achieving Blade
status is a proud thing, but Indris did it because I was there to
train her, because she adored her father and wanted to be like
him—and because she found no other choice for her tempera-
ment. There are women who are happy being nothing more
than wives to men, and they're the lucky ones, the ones who
are able to find contentment. With all the strides we've made
in the world, we've as yet to find a place for those who need
additional contentment, the pleasure of a job well done or a
contribution made. In this great age of advancement and
enlightenment, when man can make fragile glass strong enough
to be used to eat and drink from but still appear beautiful, a
woman of deeper needs than most is still forced to make a
choice between those needs. She isn't allowed to be every-
thing a woman can be, she must be one thing or the other. A
Fistmate or a wife, a Blade or a mother. Why can't she be
both?"
"Being a Blade is to be free, being a wife is to be chained
down like a domesticated animal or a pet," I answered at
once, even though I was sure he hadn't asked the question
expecting it to be answered. "Not every woman wants to be a
wife and a mother, and demanding it of those who want no
part of it simply isn't fair. It's worse than demanding that
those satisfied women leave their homes and children and go
out to train with weapons would be. If no one tried to force
things on those who were unwilling, this world would be a
much better place."
"Now, that I can agree with wholeheartedly," he said,
showing a faint grin. "The only part of your contention I'm
having trouble with is the part about unwillingness. If a
woman has tried being a wife and mother and has found that
it isn't for her, no one can argue with her decision. It is, after
all, based on experience. What basis is being used, though,
by a woman who hasn't tried it herself? Hearsay? The opin-
ions of others? Guesswork? How far would bases like that
take you in a battle?"
"I don't have to swallow poison to know I want no part of
it," I came back, suddenly aware of all the silence coming

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER	263
from my right as soon as the new direction of the conversa-
tion became apparent. "Indris was a Blade who made her
own decision as to what would make her happy. All I ask—
demand—is that I be given the same right."
"Rights are never given, only earned," Veslin said, "but
that isn't the point we're trying to get clear here. You say
Indris made her own decision and you're right in that, but she
didn't find her happiness alone. Being married to most men
probably would have made her miserable, but luckily Javin
wasn't most men. He shared his own work with her while
their children were very small, used her help to test many of
the blades he forged, then stood beside her when it came time
to train their offspring. She was never made to feel that the
skill she had acquired was a foolish waste of time that could
have been more profitably used to learn sewing or cooking or
cleaning. The acceptance Javin gave her was complete, help-
ing her to be whole. Where would a woman find chaining, if
she shared her life with a man like that?"
"How many Javins do you expect there to be?" I asked in
a mutter, looking down into my crystal goblet and the small
amount of wine left in it. I still wanted nothing to do with
marriage, and wanted even less to continue the discussion
with Veslin. He was only trying to help, I knew, but I didn't
want his help—or anyone else's. I would take care of my
problems in my own way—as soon as I could think of one.
"Maybe there are more Javins around than you know,"
another voice chimed in, a calm voice belonging to someone
who had been letting Veslin do his arguing for him. "How
can you tell, when you refuse to give anyone the smallest
chance to prove it to you? I can understand being afraid of
something or not trusting it, but I can't understand running
from it without first trying to find out if it can be bested. No
one can blame someone who tries their best and then fails,
but what are you expected to think about a person who won't
even try? What would you think of them?"
The question hung in the air to my right, a direction in
which I refused to look, and Veslin just sat in his chair
waiting, making no effort to give an answer of his own. I
could see I was supposed to admit I'd been unthinkingly
cruel, cowardly in my actions, and considerably short of adult
behavior; it's possible I was even expected to apologize. I

264
Sharon Green	*
was really tempted to get into the questions of cowardice and
cruelty, but my primary aim was to destroy concern and
caring. I'd almost forgotten that again, which made me nearly
as annoyed with myself as 1 was with the fool who couldn't
even take advantage of a woman without starting to feel
something for her.
"What 1 think is that I tend to admire people who refuse to
slash their wrists or jump off a roof simply to see what will
happen," I said after a moment, then finished the last of my
wine. "Why leave something you enjoy for something you
hate, just because other people think you ought to enjoy that
latter something? And who says I have to give anyone a
chance to do whatever it is they want to do? Talk about a hell
of a way to run a battle. This wine is really excellent, Veslin.
Would you be willing to part with another small taste of it?"
The smile I gave the priest was a calculated one, designed
to show that I wasn't blaming him for having tried to help.
He wasn't aware of what was really going on, after all, so
how was he to know his help wasn't called for? The young-
old man sighed as he got to his feet, as though disappointed
about something, but what came from my right was a word-
less growl.
"Try to keep on being patient, Kylin," Veslin said as he
reached for the wine pitcher, flicking the lid of the box closed
with one finger to get it out of his way first. "When you
spend a lot of time dreading something, it isn't easy to
suddenly turn around and accept it. Give her at least the same
amount of time, and everything will work out the way you
want it to."
"I still don't understand why your friend gave you the
bracers," I said, determined to change the conversation,
holding my goblet out for the nearing pitcher. "All the
shields in your collection are broken, so the new additions
don't fit. And why aren't there two of each size, instead of
only one?"
"I'm trying to be patient, Veslin, but at times it doesn't
work well," Kylin said, rising to his feet to put a hand to the
pitcher before it could pour any of the silver wine into my
cup. "I think she and 1 need to talk this out, at least as far as
we can. If you don't mind, we'll go to our room now."
"Forget about anyone else minding," 1 snapped, finally

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER	265
outraged enough to speak to the fool directly. Out of defer-
ence to my neck I also stood, and put my useless goblet down
on the table, where it would be better protected from the urge
to throw it. "I was never asked if i wanted to share a room
with anyone, and wouldn't have agreed even if 1 had been
asked. If there aren't enough rooms to go around, I'll use the
stable out back. As a matter of fact, I'd prefer it."
"If you're in one room and I'm in another, how are we
supposed to talk?" he came back, trying again to sound
reasonable and logical. The calm he was looking down at me
with didn't stretch across the short distance between us, and
even seemed to affect me in exactly the opposite way.
"Why in Evon's name would I want to talk to you?" I
asked very deliberately, trying to feed my own emotions back
across the space. "I know you probably haven't yet noticed,
but I don't happen to like you. And if there's still any
question about where I'll be sleeping tonight, I have my own
suggestion to make on the subject, a good deal better than my
stable suggestion."
1 turned away from his very patient sigh that rubbed my
own patience raw and bloody, and gave my attention to a
Veslin who was standing quietly and simply listening after
having put the pitcher down. The man obviously considered
himself no more than a concerned spectator, but I was pre-
pared to change that considerably.
"It appears I need a place to sleep tonight, Veslin," I said,
moving a full step closer to him while letting our gazes meet.
"If you have no other plans of your own, I'd appreciate the
chance to—get to know you better."
A woman among men learns to know just how much
interest the men around her happen to be feeling, and by that
standard I knew at once that Veslin was anything but reluc-
tant. A faint smile turned his lips that was echoed in his eyes,
and the way he looked at me said he would be more than
happy to oblige. I waited for the words, beginning to realize
that the time would turn out to be more than just an escape
from an unpleasant situation, but the words that came weren't
from him.
"You can't do that," I heard from behind me, the shadow
of a growl back in his voice. "As your betrothed I have the

266
Sharon Green	*
right to share a room and a bed with you; no one else has that
same right. You can't go with anyone else."
"As a Blade, I can do anything I damned well please," I
said without turning, closing my fists against the hurt 1 could
hear in him. He had no right to be hurt, no right at all, not
when he was an enemy! Why couldn't he be like other
enemies, and simply not care at all? "I told you what Blades
were like, but apparently you didn't believe me. Now you'll
be able to see for yourself how a Blade takes care of seeing to
her needs."
"That's absolutely it," he said as I raised a hand to stroke
Veslin's face, and then there were fingers on my arm, keep-
ing my hand from its intended destination. I was pulled
around hard to face a very angry enemy, and then sight of
him was gone and I was up on his shoulder! I screamed in
outrage and tried to struggle free, but his furious strength
refused to allow it.
"I trust you remember where your room is?" Veslin said
with an infuriating calm as the beast turned away from him
and began striding toward the door. "And I hope the rest of
the night turns out to be quieter and more pleasant for both of
you."
That neither of us answered him didn't seem to bother him
in the least, and the last glimpse I had was of him chuckling
and reaching for the pitcher of wine. After that we were out
the door and back in the narrow hall, and all the kicking and
fighting I did accomplished nothing at all. I was carried along
like a sack of oats, back to the front of the house and up to
the second floor.
While I'd been spending my time in Indris' sitting room,
Kylin had apparently been given a tour of the house. I was
carried up the stairs and past neatly whitewashed walls to a
room he approached without hesitation, taken inside, and
then turned so the door might be closed behind us. A small
lamp on a bedside table made the neat room look welcoming
and homey, its white and brown and pink and blue and
yellow all softened to gentle shadows and easy color. I got no
more than a glimpse of that before it was out of my range of
vision again, and then the closed door was retreating behind
still-angry strides. I pounded again at the back under my fists,
continuing to draw nothing in the way of response, and then

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER	267
yelped as I was suddenly dropped. Landing on my back on
the soft bed was almost as disconcerting as landing on the
hard floor would have been, and by the time I struggled up
the monster was sitting beside me on the bed to my left.
"You had no right embarrassing our host just because you
have an argument with me," I was told in a very flat way,
anger flickering behind dark-light eyes. "It's time you learned
what to expect if you ever try something like that again."
1 tried to avoid the big hands that came to my arms, tried to
fight them when they closed on me despite my efforts, but it
was all a waste of strength. I was drawn face down across his
fap, held in place by my right arm, and then he actually
began spanking me! I suddenly remembered the time Jak had
done the same thing to me, right after a fight in which I'd
done something extremely stupid, his anger too great to be
relieved by mere yelling. It had been pure luck that I hadn't
been killed in the fight, and he'd taken my leathers down and
whacked me rosy, to teach me in the most unforgettable way
possible not to do the same again. As Kylin's big hand rose
and fell, landing hard every time it landed, I couldn't get rid
of the feeling that it was happening again, that I was being
punished for doing something really bad. I twisted silently in
deep humiliation, hating him for doing that to me, but also
hating myself for thinking I somehow deserved it. I hadn't
done anything to deserve it, all I'd done was hurt an enemy!
When Jak had done the spanking it hadn't ended for quite
some time, but possibly he'd been angrier than Kylin was
right then. After a dozen or so smacks it was abruptly over,
and I was pulled up to kneel straight on the bed beside him.
44If I ever have to do that again, I won't be nearly as
gentle as I was this time," he said, a ghost of the growl still
in his voice and eyes. "Now get out of your clothes and into
that bed."
4T won't ..." I began, rubbing at what the full skirt of
my dress hadn't really protected me from, just short of trembling
with everything I was feeling. I didn't want to do anything he
was involved with or cared to suggest, but the two words
were all I was able to get to.
44But you will," he interrupted at once, turning to look at
nie after having risen from the bed. "You were the one who

268
Sharon Green	*
didn't want to talk, so we won't be doing any talking. If you
make me repeat myself, you won't like the way I do it."
He turned away again to continue circling the bed, and I
suddenly found that I couldn't do anything but lower my head
and begin opening my dress. For the first time in many years
I felt like putting my face in my hands and crying, but that
was the one victory I'd die before giving him.
It didn't take very long to get out of the dress and unlace
my sandals, and then I simply lay down on top of the very
soft quilts the bed was covered with. My back was to the man
I could hear moving around on the far side of the bed, had
been to him the whole time, and then the lamp was blown
dark and another body was lying down behind me.
"Since you have needs to be taken care of, it's my duty to
see that it's done," he said, and a hand was suddenly on my
middle, an arm resting on mine. "I'll try harder this time to
do the job right, but if it doesn't work you're to tell me. The
least a woman in your position deserves is a man who can
satisfy her in bed, especially when he can't seem to manage it
outside of one. If it still turns out not to be any good for you,
I'll—try talking to someone to see what it is I'm doing
wrong."
I didn't move at the touch of that warm, gentle hand on
me, but I suddenly realized there were tears streaming down
my face, tears only the dark around me could see. It wasn't
fair, it wasn't, and it hurt so much I wanted to die of the
pain. But dying was the easy way, a path only the common-
born were allowed to tread, a path denied to those who were
noble. Noble. When my body began shuddering with the sobs
I couldn't hold in he moved closer and held me tight in gentle
arms, and that made it all a thousand times worse, a thousand
times more painful. I deserved that pain, I knew I did, and
also knew I'd never find a way to make it stop.
* * *
When Indris heard the sound of footsteps going upstairs,
she left what few dishes and things she hadn't yet put away
and went hurriedly to her father's study. In the past it had
been a habit with her to stop and look around whenever she

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER	269
entered the study, but that night she was too excited to
indulge in the usual.
"Father, tell me quickly, I'm dying to know," she said as
soon as she was through the door, keeping her voice down
but unable to keep the excitement out of it. "I knew it had to
be one of them as soon as I saw them, but which one was
it?"
Her father had been standing with a cup of wine in his
hand, staring sightlessly at the wall, most certainly not staring
at what was on the wall. He knew his collection of shields so
well he could see them even when they weren't in front of
-him, so she knew he had to have been staring at something
else entirely. He smiled when he heard her question, more
amused than she thought he'd be, but she had to admit she
was sounding a good deal younger than she thought she
would.
"Would you believe, daughter mine, that both of them
were chosen?" he asked, turning his head to look at her with
sparkling blue eyes. "When I opened the box to show them
the bracers, we found two single ones of different sizes. It
was all I could do to conceal my surprise."
"Both of them," Indris said, walking more slowly forward
to a chair near her father before sitting rather heavily. "I
hadn't known that could happen, hadn't even thought about
it. Now—what are they going to do?"
"They'll answer the summons just as they're supposed
to," her father replied, moving close to put a gentle hand to
her hair. "I know it would have been easier on them if only
one had been chosen, but the decision wasn't ours. And that
girl almost broke through part of the deflection aura, asking
questions about something she was supposed to have forgot-
ten as soon as it was on her and the subject was changed. I'm
hoping it was just her desperation to avoid talking to Kylin
and about their relationship, but I'm afraid it might be one of
the reasons she was chosen. She may have some—extra
ability of some sort, that will play a key part in what inevita-
bly must follow."
"The battles behind the war," Indris said with a sigh,
leaning back in her chair. "Battles that will certainly be
worse than the open war itself. Now they'll undoubtedly be
separated, sent in different directions to serve different pur-

270
Sharon Green	*
poses. I'm sure the thought of that would make Sofaltis
happy, but I wonder if it really will."
"Don't be so sure they'll be separated," her father an-
swered, pouring a cup of wine for her before sitting in a chair
with his own. "I told them the story of the legend, of course,
but 1 gave them the version everyone's familiar with rather
than the true one. Evon didn't make a full panoply, remem-
ber, he made only the right half of everything. The left half
appeared as a mirror image come to life, a gleaming reflec-
tion of the silver which is the symbol of his purity of purpose.
Once it was done no one could tell the difference in the
reality of one side as opposed to the other, but I've always
felt there was a particular reason he did that. Those bracers
are linked in some way, one inseparably to the other, so
Sofaltis may not be as free of Kylin as you believe."
"Or as she thinks she wants to be," Indris said with a nod,
still concerned as she sipped her wine but nevertheless faintly
relieved. "Were you able to find out what the trouble is
between them, the real problem that poor girl keeps skirting
around? I tried during her bath, but her mind slid away to
examine it alone, leaving me behind a slammed-closed door."
"I was hoping I might have the opportunity, but it didn't
turn out that way," Veslin said, shaking his head with faint
frustration. "Sofaltis thought she could avoid having to share
Kylin's accommodations by offering to share mine, but she
doesn't seem to know much about the man she's bound to. If
I'd agreed I probably would have had to fight him, he's
feeling that insecure about her. I'm convinced her absolute
refusal has something to do with the covert war flowing around
us, and if I could have spoken to her I might have been able
to resolve the problem."
"Is that all you would have done with her?" Indris asked,
her expression very carefully innocent. "Spoken with her?"
"She's an infant, you hellion, even more so than you,"
Veslin answered with a snort, then shifted to a grin. "But
she's an infant with an instinct about men, and wouldn't have
been surprised by anything that happened. When a man holds
a woman in his arms after they've blended souls, she's much
more likely to tell him things she wouldn't have spoken of
under other circumstances." His amusement had been fading,
and by then it was all gone. "She has to be feeling much,

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER	271
much more for Kylin than she'll admit even to herself. It
wasn't disgust that made her avoid even the touch of his
hand, far from it, and I wish I could have done something.
I'm certain they're suffering for no real reason, except as
victims of the war."
"Maybe—maybe it's part of the hidden war," Indris said
slowly, distress returning to her as she leaned forward to look
at her father. "Maybe it's happened because they were meant
to be summoned. If that's true, they haven't any chance
together at all."
"Indris, child, the hidden war is being fought to preserve
decency, not destroy it or make it just another tool for the
users," Veslin said, his words assured despite the faint doubt
that had crept info his eyes. "We have to believe that so low
a thing would not be done to two innocent children, or the
war will already have been lost—by us."
"Unless there's a special purpose we haven't been allowed
to see," Indris returned, finding more comfort in the depths
of the silver wine then in her father's words. "I hope with
everything in me that you're right, Father, but there are too
many things happening that we can't see. I don't have to tell
you how many lives are ruined by even the most well-
intentioned wars; theirs just might be two of them."
Indris waited to hear Veslin disagree with her, but the silver
wine had absorbed two pairs of eyes, and nothing further
came but deeper silence.

Chapter 12
When my eyes opened to the light of a new day, I was
relieved to find that 1 wasn't comfortable despite the soft bed,
and I hadn't forgotten anything of what went on before I
slept. It's more than disconcerting to wake up happy only to
discover you have nothing to be happy about, but hopefully
those days were over. 1 woke up as miserable as I'd been
before I slept, which is a hell of a thing to feel pleased with.
I moved around under the quilt in the cool morning air,
also relieved to discover that I was alone. My bedmate of the
night before was gone along with his clothes, having left so
quietly I hadn't heard him go. Not that it really mattered if he
was there or not, 1 was sure he hadn't gone far. He wouldn't
have gone far, not after what had happened between us before
we slept, not after I'd ruined everything I'd been trying to
accomplish.
I brought a hand up to my mouth quickly, holding in the
moan of pain, refusing to let it free. If it escaped I knew I
would be crying again, just the way I'd cried in the dark
during the night. As if crying would solve anything, or make
what I'd done go away, or turn me back into a decent human
being from the sickening thing I'd become. I was useless and
worthless, without any trace of honor or shred of decency,
and my father had been right to laugh at the idea of naming
me his heir.
I turned under the quilt to bury my face in the pillow,
wishing I could stay that way long enough to smother and
die. He was an enemy, for Evon's sake, committed to doing
harm to my family and everything we cared about, but when
he held me in his arms all I wanted was to give myself to him
272

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER	273
without reservation, without criticism, without restraint. I
could still feel the strength in his arms and shoulders and
body, the warmth in his lips, the unending pleasure of his
lovemaking. He used me more completely than any man I'd
ever known, but never tried to keep most of the pleasure for
himself. From first to last his intention was to share, but the
moment he entered me 1 knew I was his? whether I cared to
be or not, whether he shared or not. It was totally beyond me
to refuse—
But he was my enemy!
The moan forced its way free at last, but was absorbed by
Jhe pillow just before I had to turn my head and breathe.
Every time I tried hurting him all I did was hurt myself more,
and after last night I'd never again be able to tell him he
couldn't satisfy me. He would have had to have died in order
to miss it, and I could testify to the fact that he hadn't died. I
was so terribly, horribly disgusted with myself, to let an
enemy reach me like that, to be so pliable that I would betray
everything I loved in exchange for nothing but the satisfaction
of my body.
Like a small, mindless female, good for nothing but giving
men rides and having their babies.
Not a woman, who at least had her pride no matter what
she found it necessary—or desirable—to do.
Female, low, stinking, squirming, totally useless female!
The self-hatred and loathing stirred me a short way out of
the misery, but not nearly far enough. I turned onto my left
side with a sigh, looking at the bright, cheerful sunshine
pouring in through the window, incapable of sharing its
warmth and happiness. I knew I was looking at the sunshine
of the day I'd be getting home, and was so depressed I almost
couldn't bear it. The only thing I could do when I did get
home was tell my father everything, leaving it to him to
decide what was to be done. It would be the most humiliating
thing I'd ever had to face, but I couldn't say I hadn't earned
humiliation at the very least. I owed it to my father to tell him
everything, and then do exactly what he wanted me to do.
I lay there for another few moments with the thought, even
more depressed but in no way reluctant, and then got up to
begin dressing. If there was one thing I'd learned to be good
at during my life, it was facing up to the consequences of the

274
Sharon Green	*
things I'd done. For some reason I'd never developed the
habit of making excuses, of trying to show my actions in a
better, more acceptable light. I'd spent a good part of my
childhood suffering through lectures because of that trait, and
now was facing considerably more than a lecture. I sighed
again, wishing for once that 1 could make excuses, then
shook my head as I finished tying my sandals. In order to
make excuses you have to be able to think of them, and in
that particular situation finding an excuse would be like chip-
ping down an entire mountain range with a palm dagger.
I left the pleasant room I'd barely looked at and made my
way downstairs, letting a lethargy of spirit slow my steps to
an unenthusiastic dragging of feet. I had no interest in seeing
or talking to anyone, only in being on my way, but you don't
thank people for their hospitality by disappearing without a
word of good-bye. Indris and Veslin were entitled to a face to
face thank-you, and I would see that they got it.
I stopped at the bottom of the stairs for a moment to orient
myself, then went toward where the kitchen should be. That
really was a very big house for so small a village, but if
Indris' husband had been that popular an armorer, he proba-
bly could have built one twice the size and not worried about
the cost. As I neared the kitchen I could tell Indris was in the
middle of cooking things from the delicious smells coming
out to meet me, but as enticing as the overall aroma was it
did nothing to raise an appetite in me. My mood was in no
mood to be hungry, so to speak, a statement of disinterest I
couldn't have agreed with more.
"Well, good morning," Indris said with a smile, turning
from what she was doing at the sound of the door opening.
"The food's almost ready, so your timing couldn't be better.
Pull up a chair at the table, and the food and I will be with
you in a minute."
"1 appreciate your offer, but food isn't the reason I stopped
in here," I said, moving farther into the room. "Since I'll be
leaving soon, I came to thank you for everything you've done
and to say good-bye. As soon as I get home I'll have this
dress sent back to you, so you'll have it for the next vaga-
bond in need, if for nothing else."
"Vagabond," she said with a snort, her smile having
disappeared as she studied my face. "If you're a vagabond,

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER	275
I'll be welcoming them from now on instead of chasing them
away with a broom. You and Kylin earned everything you've
been given, I think we all know that. At least have a cup of
tasil with me, if you aren't hungry enough for a meal. By
then Kylin and my father ought to be back."
"Back from buying horses?" 1 asked, the only errand I
could think of that they would be away.on. "They'd better
hurry, we've already wasted too much time as it is."
"You seem to be in a hurry to get somewhere in particu-
lar," Indris remarked, watching her hands as she poured two
cups of tasil rather than looking at me. "And you did say you
were going home. Is there anything special about to happen
"that you're in a hurry to get to?"
She turned then with the metal cups in her hands, the look
in her dark eyes far from neutral. She was asking me a
question she thought she would get a happy answer to, one
that would let us both get back to smiling, but smiling, like
food, was something I had no interest in.
"I suppose you could say I'm in a hurry to talk to my
father," I answered, walking over to take one of the cups
from her. "Aside from that, I can't find much to look for-
ward to in my life."
"Sofaltis, you're so young you should have everything to
look forward to," she protested, the hand I'd freed for her
coming to my arm. "Kylin was so happy when he came
down earlier, he was all but singing! I was hoping that meant
you two had worked things out together, settled whatever
problem had stood between you. You're still not looking
forward to the marriage as much as he is?"
'Td always thought men were supposed to be the reluctant
ones," I told the anxiety in her dark eyes, then turned away
to sip at the tasil. "All the old stories and songs talk about
how hard a woman has to work to catch one, but that isn't
true, is it? Most men want and need marriage very badly—
even when they shouldn't."
I knew the silence behind me was a puzzled and confused
°ne, but I also knew I'd already said more than I should
have. The tasil was strong and warming, bringing a small
measure of vigor rather than trying to fill a void that wasn't
there, and I was glad Indris had insisted on it. I intended

276
Sharon Green	*
riding hard when I left there, even if someone else wasn't in
the mood for it. . . .
"Here's the wood you wanted," a voice suddenly came
from the kitchen's outer door, opened only an instant before.
"And Veslin would like to know if you have a minute or
two. He needs your help out in the stable with something."
"Thank you for remembering, Kylin," Indris told him
warmly as I turned again, to see the man dumping a double
armload of kindling into the bin to the left of the hearth.
"And of course I have time to help my father. You took care
of everything you had to?"
"Everything and then some," the man agreed with a smile,
brushing at his shirt as he sent a glance in my direction. "The
boy your father recommended has the fastest horse in the
village, so he should reach Gensea by noon. He'll deliver my
message, then wait to guide the escort back here. I've asked
them to bring horses for the girl and myself, but even if they
move fast, as I'm sure they will, they probably won't get here
much before dark. It looks like you'll be having guests at
least until then."
"Very welcome guests," Indris said firmly as she took a
final sip of her tasil before putting the cup down near the
hearth. "And if they have to stay the night as well, it will
please me even more. I'll just see what my father wants, and
then we'll eat."
She sent another smile that included me as well, then went
through the door Kylin had used, pulling it shut behind her.
The sunlight that had been streaming in through it was abruptly
cut off, but the resulting dimness wasn't too deep for me to
see the lingering smile on the face of the man who stood not
far from me. He was looking directly at me now, and when I
didn't return his smile, it began fading.
"Don't tell me," he said with a sigh, folding his arms
across his chest. "Now that we've got our bed problems
solved, you've found something else to complain about. Would
you like to tell me what it is, or do I have to guess?"
"Guessing at things takes intelligence, which means you're
not equipped for the job," I came back immediately despite
the heavy flush I could feel in my cheeks. He, my enemy,
actually seemed to believe he had a basis for complaint,
which was the most ridiculous thing I'd ever heard. "What

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER	277
did you mean telling Indris we'd be staying here, maybe even
until tomorrow? I want to leave now, and that's what I intend
doing."
4Tisah, it would be foolish not to wait for the escort
Traixe will send," he said, the sudden look of understanding
in his light eyes bringing with it a flood of fresh patience.
"The men who kidnapped you are probably already back at
the castle, waiting for us to show up so they can try again.
I'm not going to bet your freedom that I'm good enough to
keep you out of their hands, not when it's totally unneces-
sary. When the escort gets here we'll ride back with them,
$nd that way we'll make it without any more problems. In the
meanwhile we can spend some more time visiting with Indris
and Veslin."
"I've spent enough time visiting with Indris and Veslin," I
said through my teeth, my left hand curling to a fist at my
side. It was supposed to be Traixe's men that we'd be waiting
for, but it had quickly come to me I had only his word for
that. The ones showing up might just as easily be those very
kidnappers he was so worried about, and I was expected to
simply sit there and wait for the surprise? "I'm not afraid of
those kidnappers even if you are, which means I'm leaving
now. You play it safe by waiting for the escort; I don't need
them."
"You intend going on foot?" he asked as he watched me
move to the hearth to put my cup down, his voice mild and
tinged with faintly amused curiosity. "Since I'm still the only
one with a filled purse, you won't be able to buy a horse or
food or anything else. If you still insist on being stubborn and
try leaving on foot I won't have any trouble catching up with
you, and then you'll have the added embarrassment of being
carried back here. I think you'd better forget about showing
me how fearless you are, and spend some time remembering
last night. With a whole day of waiting ahead of us, visiting
is only one of the things we can do. We can also practice
some more for our wedding night, just to be sure we get it
right, you understand."
He sent me a wink and a wide grin then turned to the
hearth, chuckling as he bent to see what the pots and pans
being kept warm near the fire contained. Indris had been right
about how happy he was, but his happiness had nothing other

278
Sharon Green	*
than my utter shame as its reason for being. He had taken the
helpless female and had made her even more helpless, and
now he expected to pass the time until his friends got there by
enjoying himself in bed on top of her again. The rage rose up
so high I nearly choked on it, furious not only with myself
now but also with him. So he was the only one with a filled
purse, was he, and if 1 tried walking away he would simply
come after me and carry me back? It looked like it was time
he learned nothing was that simply done to a Blade, not even
to one who had lately forgotten the truism herself.
I stood so close to the wood bin all I had to do was reach
out, letting my fingers close around a thick length of branch
that had been cut to hearth size. As a cudgel it felt just right
which means I didn't hesitate an instant, not about to let his
speed ruin things for me again. I took one step forward and
swung with all the strength of my body and the anger filling
it, catching him across the back of the head just as he was
beginning to straighten out of the crouch. The heavy "thwack"
of the blow nearly drowned out the small grunt he gave, and
then he crumpled to the floor and lay there unmoving.
"That's my thanks for part of what I remember about last
night," I muttered to his unhealing body, tossing the length
of wood back into the bin before bending to him. His scalp
was bleeding where the blow had caught him, but his steady
breathing showed his skull was as thick as talking to him
would lead you to believe it would be. For a brief moment I'd
wondered if he would be dead, and when I'd seen he wasn't I
hadn't known whether to be pleased or sorry. Looking down
at him from my knees I knew I ought to take the dagger from
his belt and see to it that my family had one less enemy , in the
world, but I couldn't do it while he was unconscious. If he
had been standing and facing me I knew I wouldn't have had
any trouble, but killing the helpless would have brought me
down to the level of him and his friends.
Or at least his friends. Damn him.
I blew a low breath of vexation out between my teeth, then
quickly moved him to his back. Indris and Veslin could walk
in at any minute, and there I knelt, wasting time with an inner
debate over whether or not my enemy was honorable. As my
hands went to his purse I told myself firmly that it didn't
matter whether he was or not, and I'd finally picked up

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER	279
enough of a sense of hurry that the inner arguments didn't
argue, inside his purse was a good amount of gold and silver
and a few coppers, more than enough to have gotten us
everything we'd needed from an inn, but he had refused to go
in the direction of the inn. My suspicions flared again, higher
than ever, helping me to make up my mind on exactly what I
wanted to do.
When i was all through I got to my feet and left the kitchen
by the door leading to the house's front door, leaving behind
me a man who no longer had more than coppers in his purse,
or a belt holding a dagger. The dagger sheath was strapped to
my right leg with the belt, under the skirt of the dress where
if wouldn't be seen, and the gold and silver coins were
scattered around in the various pockets sewn all over the
inside of the dress. I'd wondered about those pockets when
I'd first put the dress on, but that was because I usually wore
a pouch with my leathers. As a rule only men wore pouches,
the theory being, I suppose, that you can show off only what
you have the strength and the skill to protect. Women didn't
usually have that strength and skill, but even the vulnerable
sometimes have to carry coins.
I didn't breathe easily again until I was not only out of the
house and down the porch steps, but also through the gate
and moving briskly away up the dirt street. I'd spent an
agonizing moment or two trying to tell myself I really ought
to take Kylin's sword as well as his dagger even if that did
leave him weaponless, but then I realized his sword would be
no more than a weapon of desperation for me, to be used if
there was absolutely no other choice. The blade was longer
and heavier than what my movements were trained to, obvi-
ously made to his specifications and size, but there were also
other things to be considered. In Blade leathers I could wear a
sword without causing comment or attracting notice, but in a
dress it would hardly be the same—and i might conceivably
find myself pushed into having to use a weapon that was
wrong for me. And that bright silver hilt; if I passed any of
my former companion's cronies, they'd know that hilt at
once—and undoubtedly also immediately recognize the Blade
wearing it, instead of dismissing her as just another female in
a dress.
No, I had to leave the sword behind, but I wasn't happy

280
Sharon Green	*
about my ridiculous feeling of satisfaction over doing it.
Especially when 1 thought about the possibility of Veslin
coming after me. He'd made his position more than clear
when he'd acknowledged Kylin's betrothal rights to the ex-
tent of giving us only a single room to sleep in, making no
effort to find out if that was what / wanted. I'd never before
noticed how damned universal that attitude was, that Kylin
had all the rights and I had none, and it would have been
difficult enough facing Veslin with a weapon. If he came
after me to bring me back to the man I supposedly belonged
to—
I shifted the single gold coin I'd kept out from right hand
to left hand, grimly determined to be out of the village before
anything like that could happen. I was not going to be given
back to that man as though even I agreed he had his rights,
not as long as I was still breathing!
Anger helped to move me faster along the dirt streets, but
at that time of morning, when everyone was already working
at what they did, it took a little while to find someone to
question. It was an old man carving wood under a tree who
finally told me where I might find someone with a decent
horse for sale, and that took me to the other side of the
village. That man, busy repairing his well pump, did indeed
have a horse, and to my surprise he stopped what he was
doing long enough to show it to me. The placid brown
gelding was quite a distance from being a war horse, but he
seemed to be sound enough and was still too young to be
called a nag. I was hardly likely to find better, so 1 turned to
the man with a nod.
"If you'll throw in a saddle and bridle, I'll take him," I
said, squinting against the rising glare of the sun. "And don't
expect to lose on the gear, I'll pay for that as well."
"1 got the gear, so it's yours," the man agreed with an
amiable nod, chewing on a piece of straw as he studied me.
"Didn't think you'd talk about payin', though. Most who
helped out folk from a village wouldn't. They'd figure what
they wanted was already paid fer."
"Well, I don't happen to see it that way," I said, strug-
gling to keep control of the hurry inside me in the face of the
man's easygoing manner. Trying to rush him too much would
probably be an insult, and I didn't want him changing his

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER	281
mind about selling the horse. "Would you mind if we got
him saddled now? I do have something of a long ride ahead
of me, and I'd like to be off the road before dark."
"Cain't blame a woman none fer that," he answered with
a still-pleasant nod, taking the horse's halter rope to lead it
back into the stable. "Even a woman like you."
I followed after, wondering exactly what he'd meant by his
comment; once we'd gotten inside and he'd begun saddling
the horse, I found out almost immediately.
"Yep, a man would expect a woman like you t' have the
sense t' be off the road by dark," he said, looking at nothing
more than the horse he was saddling. "Had the sense t' show
folks what t' do with rubbish we didn't have the stomach t'
face up to on our own. Fixed it so we could kick that rubbish
right out, givin' it a passle o' bruises first t' tell it not t' come
back. Yep, a man don't hafta worry 'bout a woman with
sense."
He tucked in the end of the girth strap, lowered the stirrup
leather then reached for a bridle, and I still couldn't think of
anything to say. The man had complimented me in the oddest
way I'd ever encountered, and I had no doubt he was sincere.
What I didn't know was how to respond to thai compliment,
but it turned out a response didn't seem to be expected. Once
the bridle was on he unstrapped the halter, and then the man
was handing me the reins of my new mount.
"He's all yours now, just like you wanted 'im," I was
told, a faint smile on the sun-darkened, leathery face and in
the mild brown eyes. "I'll ask Grail t' keep you safe, just in
case your Evon's busy doin' somethin' else. You ever come
back here, me and mine'll look on it as a kindness if'n you
stop by t' see us."
He nodded in a friendly way, turned to give the horse one
last pat, then strode out of the stable as though on his way to
get back to something important. I hadn't expected to waste
time haggling over the price he wanted for the horse, but not
°nly hadn't he mentioned a price, he was now walking away
as though everything were already taken care of! I stood there
for a moment, trying to figure out what was going on, then
gave up on trying and simply followed after him.
4'Wait, wait just a minute!" I called, urging my new
rnount along with me. The man stopped in the middle of the

282
Sharon Green	*
yard, squinting at the sun after the dimness of the stable, and
waited politely for me to reach him. Once I did I said,
"Haven't you forgotten something? This horse hasn't been
paid for."
"Far as I c'n see, it sure as hell has," he returned in a
drawl, pulling the brim of his hat down farther over his eyes.
"One o' the womenfolk you an' your friend kept from gettin'
hurt yesterday was mine, an' I been tryin't' figure out how t'
say my thanks fer it. Now they're said, an' it waren't hard a
tall. You have a good, safe ride now, y'hear?"
His shaded eyes looked directly at me, telling me his mind
was made up and nothing was about to change it, certainly
not anything / could say. It bothered me that he was giving
up the price of a horse simply because of his strict sense of
honor, and then I thought of something that could change all
that.
"Since you're sure you've already been paid, all I can say
is thank you," I told him, adding a warm smile to the words.
"I wonder, though, if you would be willing to do me one
more very big favor?"
"If'n I c'n," he answered with a nod, not a flinch out of
him as he committed himself to giving up even more in
gratitude. "Ain't no way t' really put paid t' what you done fer
us."
"Well, if you can do this last thing for me, I'll certainly
consider us even," I said, reaching my hand out to him.
When his own hand extended in response, I put the gold coin
in it. "I'd like you to hold that for me, keeping it safe, until I
come back for it. I don't know when that will be, but I need
it to be kept by someone I can trust."
"You sure you wanna do this?" he asked, his eyes on the
coin, his easy calm finally the least bit ruffled. Most men in
his position would live their lives out without having seen
that much money even at the end of it, not to mention all at
once in a single coin. By then I had already moved to my
horse and was starting to mount, and when he saw that he
came over to help me up. Once 1 was settled in the saddle, I
smiled at him again.
"I'm positive I want to do that," I said, pleased with the
eagerness to go 1 could feel in the horse under me. "Of
course, there's one other side to the favor. If I haven't come

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER	283
back for the coin in two weeks, you have to keep it as your
own. Evon bless you and yours for this fine gift, today and
every day from now on."
I raised my hand as I put heels to my mount, and then I
was on my way out of the man's yard with him still standing
in the middle of it. I'd made it clear that the gold wasn't an
attempt to pay for something his pride needed to give away in
gratitude, but I wanted to be out of there before he decided he
really ought to try refusing my second favor. Since he'd
already agreed to it he couldn't back out without my consent,
so it was up to me to be gone before he could think of a valid
reason for that consent. I wanted him to have the gold as
much as he'd wanted me to have the horse, and after a while
he'd understand that.
By the time I was through the fields surrounding the village
and on the road to Gensea, I'd made myself as comfortable in
the saddle as I was likely to get. The skirt of my dress was
wide enough to keep my legs—and the dagger—covered, but
even so it didn't let me feel as secure as I usually felt on a
horse. Having sandals on my feet instead of boots only made
it worse, of course, boots having heels while sandals don't. I
had to pay constant attention to keep my feet from sliding
through the stirrups, and between that and the heat of the day
and the dust rising up from the road, I knew the trip wasn't
likely to be the most pleasant I'd ever taken. The only good
part about it all was the smooth, easy trot of my mount, a
pace he seemed ready to keep to for as long as necessary.
The hours went by faster than I'd expected them to, and
that close to the city there was no one on the road who
intended using it as a source of income rather than as some-
thing simply to travel on. The nearer I got the more traffic
there was on the road, almost all of it mounted rather than on
wagons, and after a while I was drawn away from my own
thoughts by an oddity I kept seeing repeated. Those passing
me on the way to the city glanced at me with normal curios-
rty, but those coming away from the city, almost all riding in
smaller or larger groups, were too intent on their agitated
conversations to notice anything at all. I spent some time
wondering what had gotten them so upset, but there was no
true way of knowing without stopping one of them to ask.

284
Sharon Green	*
Instead of stopping one of them, I kicked my horse out of his
trot into a gallop.
Sometimes the cold feeling you get in bright sunshine and
heat turns out to be nothing but imagination, but on other
occasions you discover that Evon has taken the trouble to
give you advance warning of what's ahead. This time I had
no intentions of riding into and through the city, but when I
guided my tired but still-willing mount to the left fork of the
road that would take me around, I saw a large group of men
stopped about where the road just began curving around the
city's walls. Those going into the city itself were staring at
the knot of men, and when I got closer I saw why. They
were City Guardsmen, and they weren't letting anyone go
past them.
I pulled my horse back down to a trot, wiped the sweat and
road dust from my forehead with my free right arm, then
deliberately swallowed down the urge to come to a full stop. I
knew I wouldn't want to hear what those Guardsmen would
have to say, but I had to hear whatever it was. My ankles felt
bruised and scraped raw from the stirrups, and my legs and
back were hurting in a way I hadn't felt for years, but coming
up behind the two men already stopped by the Guardsmen
proved to be harder and more painful than riding on for the
rest of the day would have been.
". . . mean we can't go up to the castle?" one of the two
men was demanding, both of them dressed in the brown
leather of fighters. "We're here looking for hire with the
Duke, and that means we got to go up there. Are you in the
city so desperate for recruits, you're trying to stop men
heading for the Duke?"
"Going up to the castle won't do you any good right
now," the captain of the Guard answered, finding nothing of
the amusement the fighter had been trying to share. "It so
happens we can use you in the city, but not for the reason
you think. We're in the middle of heavy trouble right now,
and we're going to need every fighter we can get."
"What kind of heavy trouble?" the man asked, exchanging
a brief frown with his friend. "We thought the fighting in the
north hadn't gotten here yet."
"Strictly speaking, it hasn't," the Guard captain said,
raising his left hand to shade his eyes from the lowering sun.

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER
285
"As far as we know, this is completely local trouble. What's
the matter, were you two trying to keep away from the
fighting in the north?"
"Hell, no," the second fighter said with a snort, more
amused than insulted. "Rumor is the war'11 be movin' this
way before too long, so we thought we'd come ahead and get
our seats for it now, before the mercenaty groups move in
and swallow up every place worth havin'. Like my partner
said, we're here lookin' for hire. What kinda local trouble we
talkin' about?"
"Really nasty local trouble," thejcaptain answered, his
grimace having nothing to do with the sun. "Don't ask me
how it happened, but suddenly we have crazy rebels all
around us. We'll be fighting in the name of the Duke, but he
won't be there to lead us."
"Why not?" the first fighter asked, this time supporting
his frown alone. "We heard Duke Rilfe was one of the good
ones, always there to lead where he wanted men to go. Not
like the ones who find it smarter to hang back and watch.
Why won't he be there?"
"Because he cant be there," the captain said while the
cold went all around my insides and squeezed. "He can't be
there because he's the one the rebels are holding up at the
castle. He and his two little daughters, and we're going to
have to fight to get them free."
My breathing started up again at that, but the ice on my
insides stayed exactly where it was. They had my father and
my sisters, and those idiots from the city were going to storm
the castle! 1 had to do something, or the three hostages the
rebels held would certainly be the first three to die!
Kylin opened his eyes and tried to sit up, but the stabbing
pain in his head turned the effort into nothing more than a
groan. He put his hands to the ache, trying to clear the blur
from his vision, trying to figure out what in hell had hap-
pened. One minute he'd been looking into pots of food, and
the next—
"Don't try to move yet," Veslin's voice came from his
left, the words soft enough so that they didn't add to his pain.

286
Sharon Green	*
"You'll be all right, but give it a minute or two and it won't
hurt as much."
"What happened?" Kylin croaked, blinking away the blur
to see that he lay on a narrow bed in a strange room. "My
head feels like someone's been using it for quarterstaff
practice."
"From what we can gather, that isn't far from the truth,"
Veslin said, sighing as he looked down at the younger man.
"You were bashed in the back of the head, and one of the
pieces of kindling in the bin by the kitchen hearth has blood
on it. Fd say we all know who it was who did the swinging."
"But I'm sure she didn't mean to hurt you," Indris said at
once from his right as he cursed under his breath, then began
handing him a cup of something. "Once you drink this you'll
feel a good deal better, but right now my father and I will
help you to sit up."
To Kylin's disgust he found he needed that help, but once
the smooth, sweet whiteness in the cup was down his throat
he did immediately begin to feel better. The pain in his head
faded to a distant throb, the water drained out of his muscles,
and moving his eyes from one sight to the next stopped
making him dizzy. He was just about back to the way he had
been, which meant anger had nothing to fight for his attention.
"Where is she?" he asked the two anxious faces watching
him, one hand rubbing at the remaining stiffness in his neck.
He'd tried to keep most of the growl out of his voice, but the
way Indris flinched showed he hadn't been overly successful.
"Kylin, please don't be too angry with her," the woman
said, her dark eyes trying to convince him her request was no
more than reasonable. "I don't know if you realize how
deeply unhappy she is, how confused and miserable on the
inside she ..."
"Indris, I know exactly how unhappy she is," Kylin inter-
rupted, getting to his feet to loosen the knots in his shoulders.
"She's been that unhappy from the first minute we met, and
by now I'm more than a little tired of it. She seems to think
she's the only woman ever to be promised into a marriage she
didn't want, and has been moping around as though it's the
end of the world for everyone alive. I've been trying my
damnedest to show her it won't be as bad as she's obviously

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER	287
imagining, but everything I try is thrown back in my face.
Are you telling me I'm missing something I should be seeing?"
"Not really," Indris answered, looking uncomfortable and
vaguely frustrated. "I've seen myself how she ignores or
dismisses all your kindnesses, but maybe she ..."
"And now, just because she'd rather risk her life than wait
for an escort I had the good sense to send for, she takes her
mad out on me with a stick over the head," Kylin plowed on,
getting angrier with every word he spoke. "She's a spoiled
brat of an undisciplined Blade, and if she likes using sticks all
that much, we'll see how happy she is when I get through
using one on her. She'll need a pillow to sit on for the ride
home tomorrow, and even with it she'll wish she could have
walked instead. Now, where is she?"
"Kylin, I think you'd better check your personal posses-
sions," Veslin said, rubbing his face with one finger as he
studied the younger man. Those eyes . . . "Where she is will
be obvious after that."
The King's Fighter looked down at himself fast, one hand
going to his purse which was loosely tied to his swordbelt,
the absence of his dagger and belt completely obvious even
before he'd opened the pouch flap. Once he did and looked
inside, his anger rose even higher.
"Coppers!" he grated, not giving a damn that his voice
was now pure growl. "She took all the gold and silver, and
left me nothing but the coppers! And if my dagger is gone,
that means she is, too! Without having been bright enough to
add my sword to her thieving! She'd rather walk the road
with nothing but a dagger to keep her safe, just to show how
fearless she is! I'll kill her. By Evon do I swear, when I get
my hands on her I'll . . ."
4'Kylin, you'd better calm down," Veslin interrupted his
furious ranting, his voice concerned as he put a hand to the
younger man's arm. "The sweetmilk eased your pain and
quieted the dizziness, but if you start getting wild and jump-
ing around, it will all come back at once. You'll sit down and
take it easy for a while to let your body start healing itself,
and then you can run and shout all you like."
"But I have to start after her," Kylin protested, unhappily
aware of the faint shifting behind his eyes, a warning he

288
Sharon Green	*
would have preferred ignoring. "Without me there, anything
can happen to her."
"She's already been gone two hours, and she isn't on
foot," Veslin said, silently urging him toward the door Indris
held open. "You need a mount of your own, and you might
as well be sitting down and eating while I find one for you.
After that you can leave as quickly as you like."
Kylin would have rather argued the order disguised as a
suggestion, but it made far too much sense for him to be able
to do it. He'd accomplish very little if he fell off whatever
horse he was able to find, and would lose more time that way
than by taking it slow from the beginning. As they all left the
small room and made their way to the kitchen, Indris said
something pleasant and reassuring about the food that he
simply didn't hear. His mind was too full of Tisah, where she
was and whether or not she was still all right. As soon as he
got his hands on her he'd kill her; nothing would be able to
stop him, nothing. . . .

Chapter 13
This time riding through the gate didn't earn me a single
glance, not with the way the gate Guards were stopping every
male who looked capable of holding a sword, trying to recruit
them for the proposed attack. Thinking about their stupidity
was making me furious as well as frightened sick, and I had
to keep my teeth clenched tightly together to keep from
shouting and screaming at them. It wasn't anyone in the City
Guard who was responsible for that mindlessness; they were
just taking orders from their superiors, the City Council. It
was the Council I had to save my shouting for, telling them in
no uncertain way that they were throwing away the lives of
my father and sisters.
If I could find out who they were, and where they were,
and how I got there through the maze of late afternoon streets
clogged with what looked to be the same people who had
been there when I'd first come through days ago.
My patient, steady mount took me forward into the crowds,
having no idea where I was going but willing to take me there
anyway. And that made two of us who didn't know, 1 real-
ized, wiping the sweat and dust from my forehead with the
back of my hand. I'd almost met some of the city leaders that
night at the Feasting, but Evon's luck had been with someone
else just then. I didn't know who had the most power in the
city, the one whose word could stop that insanity before it
went too far. And whoever it was, I couldn't go to him as a
pleading female who knew nothing of fighting and therefore
feared it. I had to get my leathers back first, and my sword—
Back from the castle where the hostages were being held—
Might as well make a stab at freeing them if you're going to
289

290
Sharon Green	*
do that—but you can't get in, can't even push through the
Guardsmen to get closer—what in hell are you going to do?
The question was a good one, but all I could come up with
in the way of an answer was to shift in the saddle, trying to
ease some of the aching of my body. I'd been away from
home too long, hadn't been back long enough for it to be of
any use, didn't know a single soul I could turn to for help.
Help. What I needed first was information, from someone
who knew what was going on, someone who was a part of
that city from the inside out, who'd be willing to supply
whatever I wanted. The lesser nobles would be useless for
that even if any of them were in the city, and that left no one
at all.
1 looked around me to find that the milling crowds were
actually moving, carrying me deeper into the city with them
at a not unreasonable pace. I reached up and rubbed at my
left shoulder, not particularly amused by the thing, wondering
if it was Evon who had that terrible a sense of humor. Now,
when I hadn't the faintest idea where to go, the crowds were
moving; days earlier, when I'd known exactly where I wanted
to go, they hadn't budged an—
Hadn't budged an inch, forcing me to try another street,
which had gotten me good and lost, until I got to a dead-end
court—
Where I'd saved the lives of a man and his sister! A man of
the city who had acknowledged the fact that he owed me a
favor! I didn't realize I'd stiffened with excitement until my
horse snorted and tossed his head, telling me that shortening
his rein and squeezing his barrel with my legs would do no
good at all. He was already moving as fast as he could
without trampling anyone, and he was really too tired and hot
to be any good at trampling.
4'Evon broil it, what was the name of that tavern?" I
muttered to myself, patting my mount to apologize for con-
fusing him even as I thought furiously. It had something to do
with animals—or maybe fighting—or a pair of somethings,
or— Evon take it and rot it, what was the name of that place?
I had to spend a few minutes calming myself down, and
then I deliberately blocked out the shouting and calling and
talking all around me and simply made my mind go blank.
I'd been to enough taverns in my time, and if someone

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER	291
recommended one in particular I usually had no trouble re-
membering its name. The people whose recommendations I
took had tastes very similar to mine, and if they'd enjoyed
some place in particular, the chances were 1 would do the—
The Ax and Shield. I almost shook with relief at the return
of the memory, disgusted with myself for the false trails I'd
been stumbling down. Ox instead of Ax Qiaking it an animal
instead of a weapon, and my next try would probably have
been the Cock and Bull. The next time someone said some-
thing like that to me I'd write it down, damned and broiled if
I wouldn't! I wiped my shaky palm on the dust-covered skirt
of my dress, then began looking around for someone to ask
directions from.
Which turned out harder than I would have been willing to
believe before trying it. With all those people around, the
first ten or a dozen politely told me they'd never heard of the
place, and their easy smiles forced me to believe they were
telling the truth. Every one of them had been fairly well-
dressed, the safest group to ask things of in a city like
Gensea, and there had been no reason for them to lie even if I
hadn't been convinced of their sincerity. If they said they
didn't know, then—
Then I was asking the wrong class of people.
I sighed as I guided my horse out of the thinning line of
traffic, noticing without noticing that at that time of day
people were already going home. Stopping someone of the
lowest class would be like demanding to be taken advantage
of, but at that point I no longer had a choice. The Ax and
Shield had to cater to the dregs and drifters, too low a dive to
be known to anyone who didn't patronize it. If it had been an
upper-class place, those of the middle class would have known
of it even if they'd never been inside its gilded front door.
No, it had to be a dive, and wouldn't I fit in well with my
pretty red print dress. . . .
I had to question more than half a dozen beggars, street
girls and light-fingered types before I got three sets of direc-
tions that agreed, and I didn't follow them with anything like
easy confidence and a light heart. Cities had all sorts of traps
for the unwary to walk into, not the least of which were the
night houses whose owners preferred slave workers to willing
workers. Any night denizen who sent a country innocent into

292
Sharon Green	*
the web earned a piece of silver at the least, and too many of
the people I'd talked to had grinned and looked me over
before offering all the directions I wanted. In my leathers
with a swordbelt strapped around me, they'd paled and run
the other way; in a dress I'd found them all too willing to
help.
The neighborhood I finally wound up in was not too far
from the better part of the city, but was in reality a full world
away. Shopkeepers were boarding up their places of business
in anticipation of night, small dingy places that went well
with the rundown residences and garbage-covered streets sur-
rounding them. It was the sort of neighborhood that made you
feel it was on the verge of waking up rather than going to
sleep, the lamps being lit in the various taverns and night
houses only adding to the impression. My horse picked his
way carefully through the muck and refuse, unhappy with the
overall stench, disliking the bands of children who ran scream-
ing across his path, disapproving entirely of the nastiness I'd
ridden him into. From the lingering stares I was getting from
the loungers and strollers of the street, I couldn't have agreed
with the sentiment more. If I'd had any choice at all, any
choice in the world . . .
The Ax and Shield wasn't quite in the middle of it all, but
something about the place said it wasn't in the middle be-
cause it didn't want to be. Its faded sign had been brown and
red and silver and black, but it hung over walls of the gray of
stone, its front door dull but heavy wood. A battered lantern
high up on one stone wall was meant to illuminate the sign,
but that early in the evening it hadn't yet been lit. I sat there
for a moment and simply stared, then began looking around.
"We've got to find some place to leave you," I muttered
to my mount as I patted his neck. "If I tie you to that
hitching pole, you'll be gone before the door swings closed
behind me. I guess it'll have to be there."
My horse snorted his dislike of the dirty boarding stable I'd
spotted on the opposite side of the street, but he didn't have
any more choice than I did. The front doors of the stable were
standing wide open, but the thin man moving around inside
wasn't worried that anyone would walk in and disturb his
charges. The two large, armed men standing in front of the
doors were there to see that nothing unpleasant happened, and

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER	293
having a horse was probably the only thing that got you by
them without comment.
The stable owner was more than happy to accept my
business, and that despite the fact that his stable was far from
empty. The piece of silver I had to produce in advance finally
told me why he was so happy, but I made no effort to point
out that I could almost buy a horse for wh#t he was charging
for stabling. If I decided against using his facilities I would
have to buy a horse, as soon as I discovered mine was gone.
The only benefit I got out of silently producing his demanded
payment was the way he lost his grin looking at my
expression—and the way his two bullyboys let me walk out
between them, still without comment.
Crossing that street in sandals was an experience in itself,
but it would have been a lot worse if I'd had the sort of gentle
upbringing so many people thought I should have had. I made
it to the other side more or less uncontaminated, really glad
that the dress had turned out to be too short for my height.
Skirts brushing the ground may be stylish, but not in a
neighborhood like that. The door of the tavern had a heavy
metal grip, but despite the weight of it all it swung open
smoothly and quietly, letting me move inside with no further
delay.
The Ax and Shield wasn't more than only just true to its
name, with a rusty throwing axe and a wood-and-paper shield
hanging on the wall behind the counter at the back of the
large room. It wasn't quite as dirty inside as out, but the
stone walls were greasy with years worth of lamp soot and
cooking smoke, the wooden beams of the ceiling were just
about black, and the heavy plank floor should have been
ankle-deep in sawdust instead of unevenly coated with it, if
all the pools of spilled brew and wine were meant to be
sopped up. The larger tables and their benches were in the
corners to the left and right of the door, smaller tables littered
the floor with rickety chairs or stools around them, and the
lamps which were already lit were badly in need of trimming
and cleaning. In other words a perfectly normal tavern for a
rundown area like the one it lived in, better than the streets
and maybe even better than the homes of its patrons.
The mutter of voices hadn't really stopped when I'd walked
in, not with the number of mutterers in the place even at that

294
Sharon Green	*
early an hour. A good two-thirds of the big room was filled,
mostly with men at the small tables or standing in front of the
counter at the back, a serving girl bringing drinks to those
who didn't care to get up themselves and walk for them. The
men paid for the service, of course, rather than having it
included in the price of whatever they were drinking, just the
way the services of the three other women in the room
weren't included. Night houses took care of everything at
once, but taverns didn't have the same arrangement.
I took a breath of the thick, overwarm air around me and
then began walking toward the counter, trying to decide what
to do next now that I'd found the place. I'd been told by my
guide out of the city to buy a drink and wait to be contacted,
but he hadn't mentioned how long a wait it might be. I didn't
know exactly how fast time was running out on me, but it
would be safe to assume I didn't have any to waste. I worked
my way around to the right side of the counter where there
were fewer patrons, and also where it ended short of the wall
to allow a narrow aisle which led back to a door standing in
shadow.
The tavern keeper behind the counter, a big man with a
craggy, unshaven face and a diny, once-white cloth tucked
into the top of his trousers, spent a minute or two trying to
ignore me. He seemed to be hoping I'd disappear if he
pretended I wasn't there to begin with, and I discovered that
the attitude was annoying me. I wasn't used to being ignored
in taverns, most especially not in taverns that were dives, and
I suppose my impatience showed in my expression. After the
minute or two, the tavern keeper walked over to me with a
scowl.
"We don't serve no ladies in here," he informed me in a
deep, scratchy growl, black eyes staring at me from under
bushy brows. "Get on home, girl, and do it fast."
"Your service policies are fascinating," I said in as dry a
tone as I could manage, cursing silently at myself for momen-
tarily having forgotten what I was wearing. The man was
trying to frighten me into leaving, the way he would have
done with any other innocent little girl. "But fascinating or
not, I'll have a brew."
"You don't hear so good," he said, but his eyes narrowed
as he looked at me a little more closely. "If you're hopin't'

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER	295
catch your man stumblin' in here with his hands all over a
rag, it ain't gonna happen. You wanna make trouble, you do
it some place else."
"I'm here for a brew, not trouble, and I don't have a
man," I said, trying to make him believe it. "What 1 do have
is an appointment to meet someone here, so you're stuck with
me for a while. If I have a drink in my hands, the wait should
go faster for both of us."
He continued to stare at me for a moment, possibly trying
to decide whether or not to throw me out anyway, then turned
away and went to draw a brew. He came back with the drink
sloshing over one side of the dented metal flagon, then
piunked it down on the counter closer to him than to me.
"I don't want no trouble," he said again, just as though I
hadn't heard him or believed him the first time. "The one
you're waitin' for—gimme a name."
The demand was as flat as the look in his eyes, as flat as
his hands on the counter to either side of the flagon. I
couldn't believe he was asking a question like that, then
sighed when I remembered again what he was seeing.
"The man's an old friend of mine, someone I've known
for years and years," 1 said, calmly meeting the veiled
suspicion in his eyes. "He's small and dark and was a Blade
for a while, but he's given that up now. He invited me to
meet him here the next time I was in the neighborhood, so
that's what I'm doing. His name escapes me for the moment."
An odd look came into the man's eyes and he snorted, then
he pushed the flagon to me and walked away. I wasn't quite
sure what his reaction meant, but 1 couldn't help noticing that
he hadn't asked to be paid for the brew. Either he felt I'd
earned the drink by showing 1 knew better than to mention
names, or something was going on that I wasn't yet seeing as
a whole. I knew I would probably find out about it sooner or
later, so instead of worrying at something I couldn't change I
took my brew to an empty table that stood to the right of the
counter, then sat down with my back to the wall.
My body, at least, was grateful that I was finally resting it,
and a short while passed with nothing terribly exciting hap-
pening. The serving girl got most of what she served from the
tavern keeper, but every now and then she hurried up the
aisle on my right to the shadowed door recessed into the back

296
Sharon Green	*
wall and through it, then came out a minute or two later with
what was probably supposed to be food. From what 1 could
see and smell as she passed my table, it wasn't anything I
would have had the nerve to swallow, even on a bet. The
small, overfilled bowls dripped new stains to add to the old
on her cheap skirt and blouse, and none of what she brought
looked, hot but the soup, which looked even greasier than it
did hot.
The working women stationed at their own tables glared in
my direction at first, but once I'd shaken my head to the
offers of three men who came over one at a time, they
understood I wasn't there to compete. All of the women were
a bit long in the tooth and were trying to hide it by wearing
too-youthful, low-cut blouses and very full, very bright skirts.
Their less-than-tender age was probably the reason they were
working a tavern rather than a night house, and the men I
turned down seemed disappointed that I wasn't there to re-
place them.
I sipped at my brew as I let my gaze wander across the big
room, faintly surprised that the patrons of a place like that
were so well-mannered and well-behaved. There were no
arguments, no fights, no rowdy laughter and horseplay, no
insistent drunks to discourage; even the men who had ap-
proached me had taken no for an answer without a fuss.
There was some quiet laughter at some of the tables, but most
of the conversations seemed serious and absorbing, at least to
the men engaged in them. 1 was beginning to wonder what
sort of place that tavern really was, when the door was
yanked open and six men laughed their way in.
"We'll have brew and lots of it," one of them called even
before they'd reached the counter, their raucous amusement
intruding on everyone's previous quiet. Scowls followed them
as they moved across the floor, but the sight of their tan
leathers and swordbelts kept words from joining the scowls.
The six newcomers were mercenaries, and when they reached
the counter they casually pushed the men already there out of
the way so they could all stand together.
I'd been curious as to whether the tavern keeper would
give them the same lecture about trouble that he'd given me,
but possibly once a day was the limit for that particular
lecture. He busied himself filling flagons without saying any-

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER	297
thing at all, and it was difficult telling if the previous conver-
sations had started up again because of the laughing, joking
and noise of the six. One of them pounded on the counter as
though it were a drum, apparently trying to hurry the arrival
of the brew, and once he'd started another laughed and joined
him.
Ail six had flagons in front of them .and had swallowed
down half or more of the round, when one of those in the
middle of the line stepped away from the counter fast with a
laugh of his own. The serving girl had hung back among the
tables until she thought the mercenaries were occupied with
drinking and then had tried hurrying past behind them, but
the one in the center hadn't been as distracted as the rest and
had turned fast to catch her. She gasped with fright as she
was pulled up against the big man, a very young girl caught
up in something she wanted no part of, and the tavern keeper
finally remembered there were supposed to be rules in that
place.
"She ain't for nothin' but servin' drinks 'n food," he said
to the mercenary holding the struggling girl, raising his voice
to be heard over the laughter of the others. "You want a
woman, take one a them that's here for it. The girl's got
chores waitin' in the kitchens."
"I like my rags at least half a decade younger than my grand-
mother," the man answered, grinning down at the whimper-
ing girl rather than looking at the tavern keeper. "This one
doesn't have much in the face, but I'll bet she's round and
ready under all that cloth. You don't mind if I just take a
look, do y—"
The way his words suddenly broke off drew my full atten-
tion back to the incident, a good part of my thoughts having
drifted away to consider how long I'd have to sit there
waiting to be contacted. Knowing how well most taverns
protected their own had kept me from worrying that the girl
would be hurt, but suddenly it was no longer the girl who the
mercenary was looking at. Moving away from the counter
had put him in a position to see my table with nothing
blocking his view, and that's what he was looking at over the
top of the girl's head. My table. And me.
"On second thought, maybe the girl should go and do her
chores," the man said, loosening his hold enough that his

J3S	Sharon Green
**
victim was able to push away from him and race stumbling
into the aisle leading to the kitchens. know better when I
see it, and that's what I'm seeing right now."
His easy grin was now being sent directly to me, and then
he began coming over right behind it. His friends had turned
4o look at me as well, most of them chuckling, and a cold
knot tightened in my middle when the tavern keeper put one
hand on the counter but didn't say a word. The serving girl
was one of his but i wasn't, which meant I was strictly on my
own.
"This certainly is a nicer place than I thought it would
be," the mercenary said as he stopped in front of my table,
leaning forward to rest his fists on it. That close his dark-
haired and dark-eyed good looks couldn't be missed—or the
fact that he'd had a couple even before getting to the tavern.
It was fairly clear he was a younger son of some noble house,
probably of the lesser nobility, and had found a more com-
fortable home as a mercenary than he would have had in a
position that required some sense of honor.
"I find I really like this place," he said, grin going wider
as he stared at me. "Especially the way it's decorated. Let's
you and I discuss your price while we look for a corner where
we can be alone, girly. My friends and I had a long ride
getting here, so plan on earning every copper."
"I'm not one of the workers here," I said, not believing for
a minute that he thought I was, raising my flagon lefthanded
to casually sip from it. "1 had my own long ride getting here,
and now I'm trying to enjoy a quiet drink. Why don't you go
back to your friends and do the same?"
"Well, well, now that's what I call luck," he drawled,
picking out from what I'd said the only part he wanted to
hear. "If you're not one of the workers here, then I don't
have to worry about paying you. Get up and let's go."
I'd never really believed before that the things you go
through can make you stupid, but that was the time I found
out it was true. If I'd had any sense I would have gone with
him quietly to get him away from his friends, waited until he
had his pants down around his knees, then showed him what
a good edge my dagger had taken. That's what I would have
done if I'd had any sense, but I'd spent too much of too many
days being told how obedient good little females were sup-

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER	299
posed to be. I had never been a good, obedient little female,
and I felt strongly that it had been too long since the last time
I'd proved it.
"Come to think of it, that is what they say about mercenaries,
isn't it?" I drawled back, seeing the confusion coming into
his dark eyes. "You're the ones who always need somebody
else to do the getting up. What do you plan for once we find
some place to be alone? Watching while I see to myself?"
The confusion disappeared from his eyes to let fury take its
place, his recognition of the snickering insult coming just
about immediately. That particular insult was the one most
likely to start a fight with any mercenary still breathing and
able to lift a weapon, and the one in front of me proved
himself no exception. With a growling snarl he straightened
up and showed how dangerous he was by knocking the small
table out from between us, sending it and my brew flying off
to his right and my left. Most of the tavern's patrons stayed
where they were, doing the sort of watching-but-not-watching
indulged in by those who have no intentions of getting in-
volved in a fight, but four men at a nearby table discovered
they were too nearby. The flung table almost landed in their
laps, causing them to jump up and back, and their movement
drew the immediate, glaring attention of the man I'd insulted.
He watched them only a matter of seconds, just long enough
to be sure they were backing off with nervous glances for the
mercenaries still at the counter, but when he turned back to
me he discovered he'd taken too long with the distraction.
With the table out of the way I'd slid to my feet and to the
right, with the aisle and the door to the kitchens now behind
me. He began an angry step forward, then stopped abruptly
when he saw the dagger in my right fist.
"Do you expect that to impress me, you stupid rag?" he
snarled, the movement of his eyes showing he hadn't realized
I'd stand only an inch or two less than his own height.
"Holding a blade isn't anything at all like using one."
"It isn't?" I asked in turn, giving him a look of wide-eyed
innocence. "I didn't know that. Why don't you come a little
closer, so I can find out what the difference is."
There was a stir among the men not-watching the goings
on, a ripple that was most likely strongly suppressed laughter.
The other mercenaries still at the counter also stirred, and the

300
Sharon Green	*
face of the man in front of me darkened when he realized he
couldn't ask for help from his friends. They'd heard me insult
one of their number and had felt insult of their own, but 1 was
only a woman with nothing but a dagger, an easy victim for
someone who was both male and mercenary. The man who
had started the fuss would have to finish it alone, a necessity
whether he wanted it to be or not. He hadn't yet noticed that
his friends couldn't come at me unless they knocked him
down or climbed over the counter, but even if he had he
probably would have thought my positioning was an accident.
He was stupid even for a mercenary, but he didn't believe in
taking chances.
"Now you want me closer?" he asked, deliberately step-
ping back as he forced a sneer into his voice. "I've heard that
rags like to change their minds, but I don't feel like letting
you do that. You wanted me at a distance, so you'll get me at
a distance—sword distance, that is."
He laughed as he reached for his hilt and drew, taking it
slow to give me plenty of time to see it coming and panic.
Facing a sword with nothing but a dagger was an excellent
way of committing suicide, but I'd known too many merce-
naries to have been anything like positive that he'd decide to
play it fair. I'd been hoping he'd be arrogant enough to draw
his own dagger, and when he didn't I had to ignore that cold
knot deep inside as it tightened again.
He flicked his point at me casually, more interested in
frightening me than in scoring, but when I simply leaned
aside to cause the miss and that not-laughter rippled through
the patrons again, his rage returned. I was supposed to have
frantically tried beating his weapon away instead of all but
ignoring it, and he was beginning to realize how idiotic he
looked. Women were supposed to tremble back from men
and their weapons, not thumb their noses and stick their
tongues out, and he and his rage weren't going to let me get
away with it. He growled again, deep in his throat, then
started swinging in earnest.
His first blow chipped splinters of wood out of the counter
as I jumped back, my dagger blade sliding the backswing on
its way safely past me when it came. Those two moves hadn't
been particularly difficult, not after all the training I'd had,
but that was scarcely the end of it. Even as I ducked a wild

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER	301
swing at my head I cursed the lack of a proper weapon,
knowing beyond doubt that I could have taken the mercenary
if I'd had a sword in my fist. If he'd been any good he would
have been a Blade or a fighter, and as more of the counter
exploded in chips I cursed at the thought of being ended by
someone that unskilled. Not only was it unfair it was wrong,
my own life being the very least of it. My father—my
sisters—what would become of them—?
It may have been desperation that fired through me then, or
maybe it was stubborness and the knowledge that I had very
little to lose. The mercenary had his lips peeled back from his
teeth as he stopped and drew an X in the air in front of me
with his point, no attempt to reach me in the gesture; the
movement was the beginning of an exercise taught to the very
young, a way of regaining the control of calm in the middle
of a fight without leaving yourself unprotected or off-balance.
The man had paused in his attack to gather himself for a more
precise effort, and I knew in an instant that I had to use that
pause or his next attack would end it all.
I've heard people say how time slowed for them when they
were forced to a final, desperate move, how it had almost
seemed like a dream they moved through rather than reality. I
had just enough time to wish it would happen the same for
me, but then the second X came and after it the third, and
then it all went so fast I would have missed it if I'd blinked.
The mercenary, strengthened by the calm he'd captured,
swung out of the bottom of the last leg of his exercise and
into a slash starting high on his right, not the least pause or
hesitation as he rolled into the downstroke. So fast was the
movement that it was nearly a blur, difficult to follow and
impossible to avoid. If I hadn't already begun my own move-
ment I would have been caught staring, doing nothing to keep
from being cut down where I stood.
But I had started my own movement, a counter I would
have considered insane if I'd had the time to think about it.
Instead of moving back again up an aisle I was rapidly
running short of, my counter took me toward the mercenary
and his descending blade, my left arm raising up as though I
wore a shield on it. I had enough time to catch a blinding
flare of silver and then I felt the crashing jar against my arm,
the staggering blow that would have knocked me flying if I

302
Sharon Green	*
hadn't been braced for it. Left leg forward and body set, the
weight crashing into my left arm triggered the movement of
my right, bringing the dagger forward fast with all the strength
I had in me.
Slashing into the body in front of me, the body now close
enough to reach, my blade sliding through leather to find
nothing of mail beneath, nothing but flesh and sinew to slice
through. Deep, deep it went in an instant's timeless time, rushing
in and in until stopped by the slam of metal hilt to leather.
He screamed. How he stayed alive long enough to scream
and stagger backward 1 have no idea, but the mercenary
screamed and backed, pulling the dagger hilt out of my grip.
His face contorted, his sword in his fist and my dagger in his
belly, blood running down his leathers and from his mouth,
he scregmed and backed away from the woman who had
killed him, his dying eyes filled with horror. 1 felt a good
measure of horror of my own, seeing my only weapon back-
ing away with him, forcing myself into motion despite the
pain washing over me. My left arm flared so wildly I thought
it might be broken, and I hadn't any time at all to wonder
how I could have forgotten about the bracer I wore. Veslin's
bracer that he hadn't asked to have back, still wrapped tight
around my arm, forgotten about and unnoticed until it had
kept a sword from slicing into me.
The mercenary kept staggering back and screaming until
his left hand ran out of counter to move along, and then, as
though only that contact had kept him erect, he fell backward
to sprawl among the tables. The scream had ended with a
choking, bubbling sound lost in the crash of his fall, and the
sudden silence worked against rather than for me. The other
mercenaries had seemed frozen in place all the while, held
where they were by the scream, but as soon as it ended their
paralysis went with it. I had time for two more steps forward,
nearly to the dagger and sword that lay there waiting for me,
and then the knot of them were in front of me instead, faces
twisted in rage and hands reaching for weapons.
My lips went dry as my heart thudded madly, the knot
inside adding its burning twist to the rest. There was no way
those five were going to let me live now, and even as I
shifted to backing from their snarling fury 1 regretted that the
last things I would be aware of would be stale brew and

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER	303
vomit-clotted sawdust, the silence of fear and the snarling of
hatred. 1 had won an unfair fight and now was going to die
for it, but couldn't find an ounce of regret anywhere in me, at
least for what I had done. I died trying, Father, not running
or on my knees, 1 thought as I backed slowly and reluctantly
from the pack who wanted my blood. 1 know you'd never ask
more of me than that, but I do so wish I gould have helped
you and my sisters—
"That's far enough," a sudden, harsh voice came from
behind me, nearly stopping my life as it stopped the merce-
naries in their advance up the aisle. "This is the man who
sent for you, but one step more and he'll need to send for
replacements. If I swear to nothing else in my life, that I
certainly swear to."
The mercenaries stared behind me with sullen, muttering
uneasiness, unwilling to give up my blood but finding them-
selves faced with no other choice. 1 thought I knew exactly
why they had no other choice, but I'd never make myself
believe it unless I turned to look. It took something of an
effort to make that turn, and once it was completed I still
couldn't quite believe it. The man Oeran, the one I'd come to
contact, stood there with a cold scowl on his face for the knot
of mercenaries, his fingers toying with his hilt as though he
had an intolerable itch, and beside and behind him—
Black leather, black swordbelts.
Silver medallions with the gleam of a small jewel.
Four faces with blazing eyes begging the least of move-
ments from the mercenaries now behind me.
The most beautiful of sights I'd thought I'd never see
again. And the one who had spoken was—
"Rull," I whispered, actually feeling light-headed, and
then I was rushing forward to try hugging four bodies at once
in so limited an amount of body space.
"Do you believe they're actually annoyed?" the man Oeran
said as he sat himself behind the very plain desk, having just
returned to the room a moment earlier. "They seem to feel it's
unfair for a female Blade to walk around dressed like an ordinary
woman; it causes too many misunderstandings and difficulties."
"Poor things, now they'll be uneasy the next time one of
them gets in the mood for rape," I commented, swirling the

304
Sharon Green	*
brew in the goblet I held. "Another innocent pastime ruined
by the unthinking actions of a woman who refuses to be a
quiet, reasonable victim."
"What in Evon's name made you send for them in the first
place, Oeran?" Rull asked from the chair to my right, a
straight-backed wooden chair he'd moved as close as possible
to the raggedy old leather one I sat in. Foist stood to my left,
arms folded as he leaned one shoulder on the plain stone
wall, Jak sprawled in his own rickety chair to Foist's left,
Ham squatted to Rull's right, his dark eyes still smoldering.
To someone who didn't know them the four were completely
at ease, but I wasn't someone who didn't know them.
"I sent for them because I had no choice," Oeran an-
swered, his sourness clear as he poured wine into a goblet of
his own. "Every Blade and Fighter still in one piece is
committed either in the north or the west, and that leaves only
mercenaries for hire. If 1 wait to fight back against what's
happening, ignoring it while hoping it'll go away, I won't
have to worry about any of it because I won't be around to
hire anybody. I usually prefer better quality workers, but
even your Fistmate gave me the impression she had other
things to do with her time. What else was I supposed to do?"
"You still haven't told us what your problem is," Foist
pointed out, his very light eyes on the small man he spoke to.
"And if you offered hire to Softy here, why didn't you do the
same with us? You have a thing about liking women better?"
"My friend, I'd like women better even if that wasn't part
of my line of work," Oeran answered, his grin wide and full
of amusement. "I don't really understand why, it must be
one of those strange urges some men get from time to time."
With Rull and Ham and Jak chuckling, Foist admitted
he'd asked a foolish question by showing a faint but real
smile of amusement. Oeran saw it as he sipped his wine,
silently accepting the point he'd won, then shook his head.
"To answer your question more seriously, I tried to snap
up you four even before Rullin and I were through greeting
one another after all this time, but he told me you were here
for another reason. If I'd known it was your Fistmate there
you were after, or even that she was the one waiting for me in
the tavern, all this unpleasantness could have been avoided."
"Do you mean you knew 1 was out there?" I interrupted,

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER	305
sitting up a bit straighter in the chair. "Then why didn't you
come out and say something?"
"Now, don't get mad at me," the man protested, looking
the least bit uncomfortable. "When 1 got here with your
Fistmates, 1 was told there was a girl in the tavern I'd offered
a place to, one a little better than the ordinary run of workers
who come through there looking to accept my offer. I was
interested, of course, but frankly I had othei*, more important
things on my mind right then. If I don't do something to get
my problems solved, I won't need any more workers because
I'll be out of business."
"Wait a minute," I said, knowing I was missing some-
thing in his explanation. "I don't understand what you mean
by 'workers.' How many female Blades can there be around
here that you offer hire to?"
"My dear young thing, there aren't any other female Blades
around for me to offer hire to," he said, trying to hide his
amusement behind his wine cup. "If you'd come into the
tavern wearing black leathers and a swordbelt, the message
given me would have been completely different. As it was—
Can you blame my people for believing an unarmed girl in a
dress was after anything but a place as a worker in one of my
night houses?"
"A worker where?" I demanded, totally outraged but
finally able to understand the odd look I'd gotten from the
tavern keeper—and the reason he hadn't asked me to pay for
the brew. Either Oeran owned the tavern as well, and as a
prospective worker I was entitled to a free drink, or the tavern
keeper had decided to take it out in trade at some later time.
Whichever the reason I didn't particularly care for it, and the
laughter all around me was just making it worse. Oeran might
have been trying to hide his amusement, but my Fistmates
weren't that shy.
t4Come to think of it, she might not be too bad as a night
house worker," Jak remarked, his grin clear where he still
sprawled in the old chair to my left. "She can't say she
doesn't like the surroundings, or what she'd be paid for
doing. And the four of us could help by being her first
clients."
"I think she needs to work on her friendly smile a bit more
first," Foist said, this time showing almost as much of a grin

306
Sharon Green	*
as Jak. "It's only Evon keeping that glare from killing you,
Jak, and I've seen her looking like that before. By the time
she was done back then, there was enough free-running blood
to paint this room with. I'd rather keep my blood right where
it is, and I'd guess her other clients would feel the same."
"Oh, I don't know, it might be worth the risk," Rull
added his own oar, chuckling when my eyes left Foist to
come to him. "I never thought she'd look that good in a
dress, but now I can see I was wrong. It makes me wonder
what she'd look like in a night house outfit."
"A night house outfit while she's riding fifth in the Fist?"
Ham asked, not about to miss his turn. "That may not be
such a bad idea. While the enemy's busy gawking at her, we
can just trot on up to them and knock them out of their
saddles. It could save us a lot of trouble—if she can stay
awake long enough to work the house and the Fist both."
"I think I now understand what it takes to be a member of
a Fist," Oeran said, closing the circle he'd opened without
giving me the chance to say anything of my own to those four
peabrains. "It takes an absolute disregard for personal dan-
ger, almost a conscious desire for suicide. You four act as
though you've never seen her fight."
"Oh, we know what she can do," Rull said, his tone,
unlike his sudden stare, suggesting he was completely uncon-
cerned. "We're the ones she usually does it with, which
means we know she'd never do it to us. When was it that you
saw her fight?"
Oeran had been enjoying himself, but Rull's quiet question
pulled the amusement out of the situation for the small man,
especially when he saw that my other Fistmates were just as
sobered. I took a swallow of my brew in an attempt to cool
my temper, trying to decide if I really was more annoyed at
that than I'd been over the teasing. Those four had always
hated hearing I'd gotten into a fight without them, just as
though they protected me when we fought together—which
they'd never done. Their attitude simply didn't make any
sense, and I'd never been able to understand it.
"She turned up at a time when I wasn't free to do my own
fighting," Oeran answered, looking at Rull but aware of the
others. "She took that garbage out neat as you please, and

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER	307
that's how we met. What's the matter, wasn't she supposed
to?"
He glanced from face to face with the question, seriously
concerned, then discovered he wasn't being stared at any
longer. The way he'd phrased his question had suddenly
reminded my Fistmates how 1 felt about that particular atti-
tude, and they were all just as suddenly talking to me at once.
I let it go on for no more than a matter of seconds, then held
up my hand for silence.
"The man asked you a question, bondmates," I said into the
quiet I was given, inspecting my cup with extreme attention.
"Why don't one or more of you answer him?"
"Damn it, Softy, you know we didn't mean it like that,"
Rull protested, apparently speaking for all of them. "You
always get so wild, when all we're trying to say is—Oeran,
there's no 'supposed to' about it. We know she can handle
herself alone, if she couldn't she wouldn't be in our Fist, but
how are we supposed to explain what it feels like inside for
us when she does do a solo? She's never been able to
understand that part of us, and sometimes I get the feeling she
doesn't even want to. Like now, for instance."
"I really doubt she's being thick or stubborn on purpose,
Rull," the man Oeran answered with what sounded like
sympathy while I found myself giving Rull a very cold stare.
"Women are built different from men on the inside as well as
the outside, that's why we have such trouble getting along
with them. It's not that they don't want to see things our way,
they usually can't. Are you and the others able to see it her
way?"
Rull had been more or less returning my glare, almost as
annoyed as 1 was, but when Oeran asked his question our Fist
leader turned his head to look at the smaller man, and then he
nodded.
"You may be right," he admitted, seeing Jak's faint smile
and duplicating it. "Looking at things from a woman's point
of view makes very lijtle sense to us, but it must make sense
of some kind to them or they'd spend less time insisting on it.
So Soft and Gentle pulled your backside out of the flames,
and that's how you two met. You were about to tell us how it
got into the flames in the first place when we were interrupted
by that little girl from the tavern."

308
Sharon Green	*
"Having hysterics/' Oeran agreed with a grimace, leaning
back in his chair. "All right, let's see if I can find some sort
of beginning for you. it isn't as easy as it sounds, not when
this thing sort of crept up from behind and was all over me
before I knew it."
A brief knock at the door brought a woman with a tray into
the room, the tray holding a good selection of meat and
pastry nibbles. Oeran interrupted himself to gesture the woman
into taking the tray around to his guests, but although the
food was considerably more appetizing than what had come
past me in the tavern, when she approached me I simply
shook my head. I was using my right hand to hold my cup of
brew, my left arm still hurting a little too much for me to
want to move it unnecessarily. I no longer thought it was
broken, but it would save a good deal of argument and
fussing if my Fistmates knew nothing about the pain in the
first place.
"This could get to be a long story, so help yourselves as
you like," Oeran said once the woman had put the tray down
on his desk and left. "As at least you know, Rull, I retired
from being a Blade about a decade ago, when my parents
died and my little sister needed someone to look after her.
She and I are all that's left in the way of family, and I wasn't
about to leave her with strangers who cared more about her
wealth than about her.
"I came back home to the south and used some of my
share of the estate left us to buy a night house here in Gensea,
and that was the start of it. The house prospered, I used my
profits to buy a second and then a third, and even found
myself with enough left over for other, quiet investments,
like that tavern out there and a warehouse or two. Things
aren't the same here as they are in the north, but in some
ways it's more relaxed and life was sweet and full.
"Then, about a year ago, small changes started cropping
up," he went on, a frown on his face, his eyes seeing
something other than that large, undecorated room. "Some of
my houses' regular clients stopped coming by, but it took a
few months before the number of them grew large enough to
notice. 1 bought a few drinks for those still coming in who
were friends of the missing, but the most I could learn was
that the men, or in some instances their wives, had 4gone

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER	309
religious.' They were all villagers or farmers, living within a
coupie or three days' ride from the city, so I naturally couldn't
understand what the problem was. They were followers of
Grail, and Grail, like Evon, had always recognized natural
needs rather than try to deny them. There's no harm in a little
relaxation, and often there's even some good. You'd never
believe how many villagers get sent to a night house by their
wives, because one of them picked up some technique and
brought it home to his woman. The woman is surprised and
delighted, tells her friends all about it, and the next thing you
know half the village is here, needing something to take
home to their own wives. Before 1 started in this business, I
wouldn't have believed it."
"Those women must be awfully sure of their men, to send
them off to other women," Rull commented, as amused as
the rest of us. "You'd think they'd prefer keeping their men
completely theirs."
"Life isn't easy for village or farm women," Oeran said
with a shrug, having taken a swallow of his wine. "After
years of breaking their backs right beside their husbands, they
know if it's love and companionship holding the man there,
or nothing more than duty or having nowhere else to go. The
ones who have shared their lives are simply looking for more
to share, and usually the men can't wait to get home to do
that sharing. The ones who have shared nothing but spite,
accusation and insecurity never find out what their husbands
do on their own, and wouldn't appreciate it even if they
knew.
"But as I said, that's the way it used to be. For what
seemed like no reason men weren't coming in any longer,
and none of those who still visited seemed willing to talk
about details. The others had 'gotten religion,' and that was
that. Another few months went by—and then what had started
in the villages moved into the city.
"The first 1 knew about it was one night about six months
ago," he said, his tone now grim and depressed, a perfect
match to his expression. "I was working on the books in the
study of my largest house, when my chief guard came burst-
ing in. He said there was trouble and 1 was needed right
away, which told me it wasn't the usual sort of trouble like a
brawl. My house men are all trained to handle individuals or

310
Sharon Green	*
crowds with a minimum of fuss, and they're really very
good. 1 followed my chief out into the main part of the house,
and there he was, moving from area to area, shouting and
preaching—a priest of Grail like none you've ever seen."
"Young, supercilious, arrogant, and dressed in robes made
from better material than even you can easily afford," I put
forward as a stab in the dark, while my Fistmates muttered
something and glanced at each other. Oeran's eyes narrowed
as my stab hit vitals, and the muttering was abruptly cut off.
"How in hell did you know?" the small ex-Blade de-
manded, straightening in his chair. "You couldn't have been
there, or I would have known it. This isn't the north, where
there are almost as many women visiting houses as there are
men. Around here, the few female regulars are known on an
individual basis."
"Let's just say I attended a different performance of the
same pageant production," I told him, preferring not to go
into details. "The priest I ran into wasn't only the way I
described him, he was also a liar, a sneak and a backstabber.
The people in the village needed only a little help to throw
him out on his outraged dignity, and 1 didn't mind supplying
that help. That's where I got this dress."
"Well, the people in the house that night didn't start out
being quite that cooperative," Oeran said, too distracted by
his own problems to think to ask why I'd needed clothing. I'd
decided on the way to the tavern to try getting help without
mentioning who I was, leaving that little revelation for any
last-ditch efforts I might have to make, and I hadn't yet
changed my mind. I was sure Rull hadn't yet told the ex-
Blade I was his Duke's daughter or Oeran would have said
something, but I hadn't yet figured a way to ask for his help
without changing that. If my Fistmates hadn't been there it
would have been easier, but as it was . . .
"When I got to the scene of the shouting, every client in
the house looked like he was ready to take off running and
not stop for a week," Oeran went on, more slumped than
relaxed .in his chair. "The priest was ranting at them, telling
them they were cursed forever, that when they finally went
Home, Grail would slam the door in their faces and never let
them in. He went on and on about how they had to do
penance, how they had to pay for their sins, how they were

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER	311
forbidden to even think about ever doing anything like that
again. Hell, he was all but foaming at the mouth, and a
lot of those people he was tormenting were long-time friends
of mine. 1 got mad, interrupted and told him he sounded more
like a priest of Ramas, the god mercenaries swear by, than a
priest of Grail, and that started him on me. I've never been
backward about saying what I feel, not even to priests of
Evon, so I jumped in with both feet.
"To make the story shorter than it was, it turned out the
loud-mouthed fool was better at dictating and damning than
debating and defending. He seemed to know less about the
old-time teachings of Grail than 1 did, and I've been a follower
of Evon since three years past my first decade. Once he
began making mistakes and outright misstatements the men
in the house stopped being afraid and started getting mad, and
after a while 1 was able to have my men throw him out with-
out more than two of my clients coming down offended and
marching out after him. After that incident 1 decided it was
more than time 1 found out exactly what was going on, and
did what I should have done to begin with. 1 offered silver for
information, and just sat back as it began pouring in.
"Once I had the whole picture, 1 almost wished I didn't,"
he said with a sigh, looking down into his wine. "Apparently
those new priests were moving in everywhere, insisting that
Grail now demanded more from his followers, got on their
backs and refused to get off, and were preaching against
everyone who followed another god, especially Evon. They
were being obeyed a lot more strictly in the villages than in
the city, but that's only to be expected. City dwellers are
more used to finding ways around laws they don't happen to
like. Everything was in an unspoken turmoil, and those who
knew about it were beginning to be worried."
"I don't blame them," Jak said, leaning forward in his
chair and making it creak. "I've never heard a Servant talk
against the other gods before, never even heard about it
happening somewhere else. It would be nice to know what
they expect to get before they back off."
"What gives you the idea they intend backing off?'' Oeran
asked, reaching for one of the tidbits on the tray his desk
held. "They've begun the process of controlling every facet
of their followers' lives, from no eating without their ap-

312
Sharon Green	*
proval to no sex without that same approval. If you want to
start farming a new piece of land, you need the priest's
blessing. If your wife wants to weave a new wool blanket,
the wool has to be blessed as well as the loom. Any
trip you want to make, any changes on your house, any
additions to your family—-it all needs approval. And anyone
who tries disagreeing with them or fighting them meets with
unfortunate—incidents.''
Oeran put the tidbit in his mouth and began chewing it, but
no one took the opportunity to comment. 1 could see my
Fistmates were feeling the same chill I was, and also proba-
bly wondering how something like that could have gotten
started.
"They began by trying to beat up my clients, either on
their way to one of my houses, or on their way home,"
Oeran said once he'd swallowed the tidbit and finished the
last of the wine in his cup. "When I found out about it, I
hired every backstreet bravo my agents could corner long
enough to make the offer to, and that took care of it. The City
Guard wasn't as safe walking or riding the streets as my
clients were. That, of course, was when they started going
after me instead, and I never realized they were so low they'd
use my sister against me until it happened. That was when
your Soft and Gentle came along, saving me from ending up
in a pool of my own blood. I'd sent for those mercenaries
when the attacks first started, intending to use them to wipe
out as much of the garbage as possible and give us some
breathing and thinking room. That tavern is now being used
exclusively by those who have reports to make to me, or
those who want to talk about what's happening without wor-
rying that someone will overhear them and tell their priest. I
was tempted to go ahead with my original plans, but I've just
about decided that would be the worst thing I could do in
light of this new mess. You must have heard about it; no
one's getting into the city without being told."
"Yes, we heard," Rull said, making no effort to look in
my direction. "The Duke is being held in his castle, along
with two of his daughters. Are you sure the ones holding him
are linked with these new priests of Grail? The City Guard
seems to think it's rebels, and they haven't said why he's
being held. We were assuming it was for ransom, and were

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER	313
wondering how much gold they were asking for, that it hasn't
already been paid."
"They're not rebels, and they're not asking for gold,"
Oeran said, slowly refilling his cup with wine before rising to
pass the bottle to Ham. "The city officials are keeping close
on what they are being asked for, because they know they
can't supply it under any circumstances. #Even if they had
what was being demanded of them, handing it over to free the
Duke would probably get them all cut down once he was
free. By his own sword with his own hand. I used my special
connections to find out about it, and for once I really feel
sorry for those officious idiots. They can't free the Duke
without paying up, and if they pay up the Duke himself will
have their heads and no one will blame him. They've gotten
so desperate, they're ready to try storming the castle."
"Which will get them exactly nowhere even if they man-
age to raise an army, which they won't," Rull said, taking
the wine bottle from Ham and passing it on to Foist without
pouring anything into the cup he held. Ham had taken no
more than a drop, Foist did the same, and Jak returned the
bottle to Oeran with no more than a nod of thanks. That was
another sign of how unrelaxed the four were, but Oeran
didn't seem to notice.
"If the attack gets them nowhere, it won't matter in the
least," Oeran said, clearly more upset now than he had been.
"The thing they refuse to understand is that they probably
will get somewhere, but not to a place they'll enjoy standing
on. If that slime finds itself under attack, they could very well
decide to hurt one of the little girls in order to stop it. They
don't have to kill her, you understand, just—hurt her."
"Then they've got to be given what they're asking for," I
said, finding it impossible to sit quietly any longer. Foist
came away from his wall when I stood, putting a hand to my
left shoulder, but I shook it off with all the fury and impa-
tience crowding around inside me. " Tell me what they want,
Oeran, and I'll see to it that they get it. I'd rather feed them
three feet of steel, but— Tell me what they want."
"Take it easy, Softy, there are some prices no one can
afford to pay," Rull said from my right, his hand refusing to
be shaken off my arm. "Even if you plan on taking it back
later, giving it up in the first place means you've let the

314
Sharon Green	*
enemy win. Find out what it is before you make any deci-
sions about giving it to them."
With Jak and Ham also on their feet, Oeran was the only
one left sitting. He stared around at us in bewilderment and
confusion, trying to figure out what we were talking about,
but I didn't have the time to wait until he did.
"All right, then, I'm simply asking," I said, not bothering
to look at Rull in any useless effort to make him believe me.
"Tell me what they're after, Oeran, and we'll let Evon's
code of honor decide. If it isn't dishonorable, it gets done."
"But that's just it," Oeran protested, slowly rising to his
feet. "It's nothing other than dishonorable, and everyone
knows it—not to mention impossible. For the release of the
Duke and the two little girls, the ones holding them want to
be given the Duke's eldest daughter in exchange, but she's
disappeared!"

Chapter 14
I stood there silent for a moment or two, but not because I
was particularly shocked—or especially surprised. All that
back-trail sneaking around, avoiding the main road and that
inn—wasted time and effort, all of it. Rather than searching
uselessly, the enemy had come ahead and made sure 1 would
be handed over to them whenever I returned, no matter where
I'd been in the meanwhile. I put my cup down on Oeran's
desk then used the hand to rub at my left arm, so furious and
frustrated I wanted to scream and break things. The enemy
wanted me so badly they were prepared to go to any lengths
to get me, but I didn't know why! Why was 1 so important to
them, what could they possibly be after?
"So you can see why we can't give them what they want,"
Oeran said after the silence had gone on longer than he liked,
his voice still sounding odd. "Very few people in these parts
even know what the girl looks like, because she hasn't been
home in years. And even if we knew where she'd disappeared
to and got her back, what man of honor would hand her over
in trade, even if the Duke didn't have his heart for it? There's
nothing any of us can do."
"There's plenty to be done, especially for some of us," I
said, straightening where I stood. "Who's in charge of dicker-
ing with those 'rebels,' and where can he be found?"
"No," Rull said very flatly before Oeran could answer
me, the single word carrying the finality of the ages.
"I'm Fist leader, and I say no. We'll find some other way."
"There is no other way, and 1 resigned from the Com-
pany," I answered, keeping my eyes only on Oeran. "What I
315

316
Sharon Green	*
do now is no one's decision but my own, and that decision is
hiade. How do I get to the people in charge, Oeran?"
"So that's who you are," the small man said, staring at me
with an expression even odder than his tone of voice. "And I
thought when we first met that you might be in trouble with
the Law, or someone the City Guard would soon be looking
for. Where have you been, and what's going on?"
"It's a long story," I said, beginning to feel very tired.
"Let's just say our friends up at the castle had me and then
lost me, but now they're about to get me back. If I do it
myself there's nothing of the dishonorable in it, and you can
bet they'll end up sorry they asked for me. I don't know what
they expect to get out of this mess, but I know damned well
what they will get."
"I'm sorry, girl, but it just won't work," Oeran said,
sympathy showing strongly in his dark eyes. "It may not be
dishonorable for you to give yourself in trade, but if any of
the city officials allow it they'll still have your father all over
them afterward. They know that even if you don't."
"And there's something you're not considering," Rull said
while Oeran looked uncomfortable over the way I stared at
him. "What real guarantee do you have that those people will
release your father and sisters once they have you? Are you
willing to accept the word of men who use little girls and
promise pain to get what they want? What will you do if you
give yourself to them, and then they decide they don't want
to leave your father in a position to send his fighters after
them? And that burdening themselves with two small children
is entirely unnecessary? You'll already be their prisoners
Softy, so what will you do?"
I jerked my head around to finally look at him, seeing an
intensity in his light eyes that wasn't usually there when we
weren't in the midst of battle. Even with chilled fury savagely
tearing me apart, I suddenly realized that Rull was in the
middle of a fight, at least as far as he was concerned. At
another time, I would have wondered what it was he was
trying to win; right then all I did was pick up the cup I had
just put down, turned deliberately, then hurled it against the
stone wall behind and between Jak and Foist.
"You're absolutely right, the drink in this place isn't fit
for washing a dog in," Oeran said from behind me into the

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER	317
most recent silence, and then I heard the sound of movement.
"Let's all use the same side door we came in by, and go back
to the house we started from. It's the best of my three, and
you showed excellent taste picking it out of all the houses in
this city, Rull. We needed this place to be sure of privacy for
our conversation, but I suddenly find it more depressing than
private. If anyone overhears us at the house, I'll let those
mercenaries take care of it. At least it will give them some-
thing to do."
By then Oeran was in front of me, still looking at me with
sympathy and not giving a damn that he'd been talking too
much. The flow of words had been meant to calm me the way
soft, meaningless noises sometimes calmed a war horse, and
although they hadn't really made anything better, they also
hadn't made it worse. I felt more than ever like striking out in
all directions, incapable of believing that anyone, even my
Fistmates, were really on my side, but at least I was able to
keep from saying it aloud. I would have hated myself forever
if I'd said something like that to the other four-fifths of my
life, and then it came to me that Oeran was right. That bare
room was depressing, and the sooner we left it the better.
"I left my horse stabled in that place across the street from
here," I said, more than grateful that none of them had
touched me even to pat my shoulder in comfort. "We can
leave after I reclaim him. 1 paid enough to keep him safe; I'm
not about to abandon him now."
"I have a better idea," Oeran said, turning toward the door
out of the room, possibly to hide the relief that had flashed in
his eyes. "I'll send one of my men to get your horse, along
with the silver piece I'm sure you were charged. Anyone who
comes into my tavern isn't supposed to be charged, but the
old thief running the stable likes to forget that every now and
again". It will be my pleasure to get the silver back for you."
I almost told him that it wasn't my silver so I didn't
particularly care, but that would have taken too much trouble.
Instead of saying anything at all, I simply followed him out.
Oeran's house wasn't all that far away, at least not the way
he reached it. One back street led into the next, a dark,
arched walkway saved us from having to circle around, and
we even passed quickly and briefly through a bake shop. If I
started out wondering why we weren't riding, it didn't take

318
Sharon Green	*
long before my question was answered. But I was far too
depressed to be wondering, and too upset over Jak's and
Foist's low-voiced conversation speculating on how the en-
emy had gotten into my father's castle. That was the third
time they'd gotten in, which was totally beyond reason. How
could they have done it a third time, when Traixe and his
men were still supposedly alert and on edge from the first and
second times?
I was so distracted by the rampaging of my thoughts, that
we reached the back entrance of Oeran's house without my
being more than faintly aware of what my sandals had needed
to walk through to get there. It was just about full dark by
then, but the neighborhood the house stood in seemed a lot
less rundown and overused than the one belonging to the
tavern. A uniformed servant let us in, his face calm with that
unimpressed expression usual to experienced night house per-
sonnel, a distinct change from the reactions of the people
we'd passed on the way. I don't pass numberless dark but
filled doorways and alleys without being aware of it even
when I'm distracted, but apparently the sight of lots of black
leather had kept everyone discreetly at a distance.
"Tell the kitchen I have five guests for dinner tonight
instead of four," Oeran said to the servant/door guard as he
led the way in. "We'll be in my meeting room till then, rather
than in the salon."
The servant said something in acknowledgment as we all
moved past him, but 1 had already stopped listening. There
was something involved with what I had been thinking about,
something to do with the enemy and the castle, and I could
have sworn it felt like an answer. An answer to what I still
couldn't be sure of, but it had to be an answer to something.
"Isn't that right, Softy?" Ham said to me, and I blinked
back to an awareness of my surroundings to find that we were
in a large room that was very expensively furnished. Oeran
was closing a white door that stood in the middle of a wall
covered with golden brown silks and bright golden lamps,
and the floor we stood on looked to be white marble. Quite a
lot of chairs and couches stood around, some of them golden
brown leather, some golden brocade, and although the lamps
were lit, the firewood laid in the hearth wasn't.

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER	319
"Isn't what right?" I asked, having heard nothing of what
had been said before my name was mentioned.
"I was telling Oeran that we could have waited for our
meal in the salon anyway," Ham said, a faint grin on his
broad face. "Just because we now have a girl with us, doesn't
mean we have to hide her away after sneaking her in the back
door. Here in the south, they act like women need special
secret entrances before they're allowed to enjoy themselves."
"The women around here just aren't used to the idea of
patronizing night houses," Oeran said with a grin of amuse-
ment as he headed for an elaborate sideboard filled and
covered with decanters and goblets. "As a matter of fact, my
workers aren't used to the idea either. In a salon in the north
your Fistmate would not even be noticed, but here—Chances
are my girls would freeze up, to the point of not even being
able to smile at you. And since we are in the south, it's ladies
first. What would you like to drink, Softy?"
He turned to look at me with the question, the smile still on
his face, but it began to fade when he saw my expression. I
had to be looking thunderstruck because that's the way I felt,
and all I could do was shake my head.
"Secret entrances," I said, staring at Oeran. "It has to be
that, there's nothing else it can be."
"I really don't think they'd help, girl," Oeran said, look-
ing concerned and confused both at the same time. "If women
aren't used to the idea of coming to night houses, special
entrances won't do anything to . . ."
"No, no, not here!" L nearly shouted, suddenly on fire
with the realization. "At the castle! That's how they got in
those times, and I can do the same! I can get into the castle
without their knowing about it!"
Everyone started talking at once then, asking questions and
demanding to know what I meant, but I was too busy making
plans to pay attention. Getting through the city gates after dark
could be a problem, but if the Guard refused to let me through
I could look for one of the unofficial ways out every city has.
Sewer drain or crack in the foundation or even over the top,
I'd make it out and then I would— But I was wasting time, just
standing there in Oeran's house and thinking. It was time to
get out and do, but when 1 turned and began heading toward
the door a hand closed on my arm, pulling me to a halt.

320
Sharon Green
*
"Hold it right there/' Rull said, his grip tight and a look
of annoyance in his eyes. "If you think you're taking off to
do whatever you're planning alone, that long ride from the
north obviously scrambled your brains. You must have come
looking for Oeran for a reason, and I'd say it was time you
talked about that reason—and how the rest of us can be fit
into what has to be done. If it was help you needed, try to
remember we're a little more effective than a bunch of boar-
meat sandwiches."
I stared at him for a second, almost too impatient and
anxious and worried and a dozen other things to be willing to
take the time to consider what he'd said, but I'd just been
reminded of something. I had come to Oeran for help but also
for information, and all my plans hinged on a point I still
hadn't had a clear answer to.
"I may not be able to let anyone come with me," I told
Rull, wanting him and the others to know I wasn't shutting
them out by choice. "There are certain—family things that I
have no business discussing with anyone who isn't part of the
family, but— Oeran, do they have any idea how many of
those so-called rebels there are in the castle?"
I'd turned back to look at the ex-Blade, and he had no need
to be told how important the question was. Instead of wasting
time by mentioning drinks again, he merely shook his head.
"There are at least three dozen, but for all they know the
number might be twice or four times that," he said, his eyes
showing his own annoyance with such flimsy intelligence.
"They do know that every House Guard and fighter has been
put under lock and key, but they don't know if it was superior
numbers or threats to the hostages that accomplished it. What
did you mean, you know how they got in and you can do the
same? Everyone's been assuming the first of them got in as
tradesmen and delivery men, and let the others in afterward."
Rather than answer him immediately I turned away from
five pairs of staring eyes to walk to a chair, then stood there
brooding down into it without trying to sit. I knew well
enough how good a Blade I was, but even the best Blade ever
born couldn't have faced more than thirty opponents and
hoped to win, not even if. those opponents were entirely
unskilled. There was. the possibility that I might be able to
catch them a few at a time and take them out that way, but

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER	321
what if I couldn't? What if they killed me or captured me
instead? That would be the end as far as my family was
concerned, and I simply couldn't take the chance.
"All right," I said with a sigh, turning again to face the
five who hadn't made any attempt to rush me into a decision.
"Preserving a family secret at the cost of the family itself
makes no sense at all. Let me tell you abgut what happened
shortly after 1 got home, and then I'll tell you how I think
they did it."
We all sat down and I described the first attack in the
castle, then the kidnapping that left me miles away once I'd
gotten free. I said nothing about having a companion on the
trip back, preferring to save that part of it for another time,
going directly, instead, to the main point.
"Ham's comment about special secret entrances for women
triggered the memory," I said, grateful that none of them had
interrupted with the questions they all surely had. "About a
year before I was sent north, 1 made a discovery no one knew
I made. One of the games I'd thought of to keep myself
amused was the challenge of following Traixe around without
his knowing I was doing it. Since Traixe was in charge of my
father's fighters as well as being his advisor, following Traixe
when he checked on the fighters almost always added at least
one word to my vocabulary, it was one of the things that kept
me from growing bored with the game, and made my ulti-
mate discovery possible."
The five of them had smiled a little, but their attention to
my story hadn't wavered.
"It was a day my father had taken my brothers hunting,
and most of the fighters had gone with them," I continued.
"I suppose Traixe found himself with not enough to do, and
the house was practically empty, and—what he did was make
a special inspection, all by himself. I followed him to four
places in the castle where the solid walls became a lot less
solid when he pushed on them, and once he had returned to
his apartment I went back to those places to find that there
were tunnels behind them. At another time, I discovered
that the tunnels led out beyond the castle into the rocky
countryside."
"And that's how you think your father's enemies got into
the castle," Oeran said with a thoughtful nod. "Through one

322
Sharon Green	*
of those tunnels. But why didn't your father's people think of
that themselves, and how is it going to help us? If the ones
holding the castle know about the tunnels, won't they be
watching for attack from that direction?"
"I don't think so," I said, praying to Evon I was right.
"My father's people didn't think of it because the doors
leading out of the tunnels are heavily barred and made of
rock. Anyone trying to break in that way would be heard long
before he got anywhere, but there's another way it could have
been done. If my father's messenger wasn't the only traitor in
the household, the tunnel door could simply have been un-
barred. And since that has to be the way they got in, I'm
fairly sure I know which tunnel they used."
"Tunnel, singular," Jak said, picking up on the point at
once. "That means you don't believe this Traixe is the
traitor, even though he'd be the most logical suspect. If it was
someone else, the someone else would have had to first find
out about the tunnels, which shouldn't have been easy. Your
Traxie already knew, and even if he didn't do any of the rest
himself, he could have traded the information for gold."
"I'd need a lot more than guesswork before I believed
something like that -\bout Traixe," I said with a headshake,
refusing to let myself notice how logical the line of thought
was. "You don't know him the way I do, Jak, and 1 can't
believe he could have changed that much even after all these
years— He'd have no reason, and people don't do things
without a reason—"
1 broke off then, too aware of how defensive I sounded.
After the first attack Traixe should have thought about the
tunnels, only he hadn't. And he was the one who had been
working so hard trying to talk me into accepting Kylin, but
supposedly only because my father would be harmed if 1
didn't. How did I know my father would be hurt because he
intended ordering me to leave rather than marry? Why, be-
cause Traixe had said so, that's how I knew. But why would
he do it, why—?
"I doubt if it makes much difference whether or not this
Traixe is the traitor," Rull said, looking as thoughtful as the
others. "Only a stupid man would sell or share the location
of more than one tunnel when the others could be made into
separate, brand-new deals or disclosures bringing power,

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER	323
and the Duke would hardly be likely to keep a stupid man as
his advisor. If they do know about all the tunnels" we're in
trouble and probably as good as dead, so we'll just have to
work on the theory that just one, or at most two, of the
locations have been betrayed. What makes you think it's only
one, Softy, and how does that help us?"
"About the same time as the first attack, two kitchen
workers were found dead in a back corridor near the kitch-
ens," 1 said, forcing myself to abandon a line of thought that
was getting me nowhere. "It didn't mean anything to me at
the time I heard about it, but now I can see the reason they
were killed. The entrance to one of the tunnels is back there,
and the workers must have accidently walked in on them
when the attackers were being brought in. I'm not saying that
has to be the only tunnel they know about, Rull, but it has to
mean they don't know about the tunnel with my little secret.
With the kitchens so busy preparing a Feasting, wouldn't they
have preferred using the tunnel in the family wing if they
could have? Especially since it's closer to where they staged
their ambush? If they took the longer way that had so many
more people nearby, it has to be because they didn't know
about the closer way."
"They could have had a reason we're not seeing, but
basically I tend to agree," Rull decided with a slow nod.
"They didn't use it because they don't know about it, so its
location in the family wing shouldn't be under guard. What
did you mean about your little secret?"
"Maybe I should have called it my little stupidity," I said
with a sigh, wondering how even a mere decade-old me could
have done such a mindless thing. "I did it and then I forgot
about it, and for just an instant I thought it was my fault the
enemy had managed to get in. I didn't know those kitchen
workers, but Evon bless them for giving up their lives so that
I might see the truth—
"Well, that's not important right now," I said, jerking
myself back from the maudlin to the story at hand. "Not long
after I found out about the tunnels, I managed to investigate
them. I had no trouble getting into them from the castle, but
getting out the other end proved impossible. I might have
been big for my age, but 1 wasn't big enough to lift a really
heavy bar and push a door of stone open. What to do about

324
Sharon Green	*
the problem stumped me for a while, but then I remembered
Tugy, our smith's second son. Tugy was almost into his
second under-decade and was built even bigger than his
father, but something had gone wrong with him even before
he was born. No matter how big and strong he grew, his
mind stayed the mind of a very little boy, a nice, friendly and
gentle boy, but still a very young one.
"I had played with Tugy often when I was very young, but
as I got older his constant forgetfulness became too annoying
to tolerate on a regular basis. I did spend some time with him
occasionally, devising games that made him laugh, and it
came to me then that I had a new game to amuse him. 1
sneaked him into the family wing, and then into the tunnel,
and in that way was able to go through the far door any time I
pleased."
"Don't tell me you left it open," Oeran said, a peculiar
expression on his face that I could recall seeing on other
people at other times. "It couldn't have been easy sneaking
him in on a regular basis, so in order to use it any time you
pleased . . ."
"Really, Oeran, even then I had more sense than that," I
interrupted, aware of the amusement my Fistmates felt over
our host's upset. "I didn't know how often Traixe checked
those tunnels, so how could I leave the door unbarred without
giving the game away? No, what I did was more involved
than that, and took advantage of the fact that Tugy had a big
man's strength. 1 had him put metal in the ends of the
wooden bar to brace it into the stone on either side of the
door, and then we loosened the bar brackets where they were
seated in the door itself. Once you set Tugy to doing some-
thing he kept right on doing it until you told him to stop, so it
really took very little time to get it finished. I also bathed the
door hinges in oil so I could get it open alone."
"And anyone simply looking at the arrangement would
believe it was still secure," Oeran said, this time shaking his
head. "The door merely slid off the bracket bolts when it was
opened, and the bar and brackets were held in place by the
walls. If I ever get the urge to have a family, I'd better have
nothing but sons. I can see I'm not made to cope with
daughters."
"Luckily for the men of the world, not all daughters turn

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER	325
out to be like our Softy," Rull said with a chuckle that was
echoed by my other Fistmates. "So if your little secret wasn't
discovered and repaired, we have a way into the castle—if we
can find it from the outside. You do know what the location
of the door looks like from the outside?"
"1 did know," I said, suddenly afraid that what I'd done
had been discovered and repaired. "For a. while I spent more
of the night outside than in, delighting in exploring among
the rocks without the constant nagging of my nurses to 'stay
clean' and 4be careful' and 'don't climb up there, it's too
high.' I ought to remember what the place looks like, espe-
cially in the dark, but the only way to know for certain is to
try it. I'm ready to leave right now, so anyone coming with
me. . ."
"Not so fast," Oeran said as I rose from my chair, gestur-
ing at me to stay where I was while his mind considered
possibilities. "It may be dark out, but it's still too early to
launch any expeditions we don't want the whole city to know
about, and we really should give those in the castle a chance
to settle down for the night. Since we'll be looking for
something that needs to be kept quiet only we six will be
going, which means the fewer of them up and about, the
better the chance that we'll have. And you, Softy, need a
sword and something else to wear, not to mention the fact
that you look like you can also use some sleep. First we'll
have dinner, then we'll start taking care of the rest of it."
He got to his feet and looked straight at me, giving me the
opportunity to argue if I really had to, but what he'd said
made too much sense. I wanted to leave then and there, but if
I did I'd simply have to wait out in the dark, taking the
chance of being discovered. I forced myself to nod reluctant
agreement just as a knock came at the door, which was
perfect timing if I ever saw it. The knocker was Oeran's
servant telling us dinner was ready, and that put a temporary
end to our main topic of discussion.
Oeran really did very well for himself and the dinner was
excellent, but despite the fact that that was the first meal of
the day for me, I had very little appetite. I ate enough to be
sure I could keep going through the rest of the night, then
accepted my host's offer of a room where I could rest until it
was time to go. I followed one of the servants upstairs to the

326
Sharon Green	*
back of the house, and then was left alone in a room I was
assured hadn't been used for clients in a while. The silk
hangings and bed covers and room accents were all a bright,
buttercup yellow accompanied by a small amount of white,
giving me the impression I was in the middle of an attack by
sunshine. I grimaced as 1 closed the door, wondering how
anyone could live in air that enthusiastic brightness for any
length of time, also wondering if the clients brought in there
had spent most of their time squinting. It was possible only
the very desperate had used it, and was unused now because
no one was quite that desperate.
The nonsense of my thoughts was interrupted by the sight
of something on the flouncy, enticingly arranged bed, and
walking over showed the something to be black trousers and a
dark green shirt. On the smoothly buffed floor at the foot of
the bed was a pair of scuffed black boots, and beyond the
bed, on a table in the middle of the room, was a swordbelt
and sword. The trousers looked as though they might fit fairly
well but the shirt, obviously coming from a different source,
would definitely be too big. I sighed, hoping the boots would
be more like the trousers than the shirt, then began getting out
of the dress.
I had just slipped the shirt on and was rolling up the
sleeves to find my hands before trying to do any buttoning,
when a glint of silver on my wrist reminded me again about
the bracer I wore. It was then that I realized my left arm was
no longer really hurting, but that was only a minor consider-
ation among many major ones. Why did 1 keep forgetting I
had the bracer on? How could I continually fail to notice it
when it was out in plain sight? And why didn't anyone else
notice it, which I was sure they didn't? My Fistmates, if no
one else, should have asked about it, and yet none of them
had. That mercenary in the tavern should also have been a
little more wary of a woman not only holding a dagger but
wearing a bracer, but he hadn't been.
Probably because he hadn't seen it.
"Evon, are you asking something of me?" I whispered,
letting my fingertips gently stroke the dull, unimpressive,
not-real-silver of the bracer. It would have been easy to
believe that Veslin had simply forgotten 1 was trying the
bracer on, that in all the excitement both that night and the

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER	327
following morning I'd forgotten too, but somehow I couldn't
bring myself to believe that. Veslin wasn't the sort of man to
forget things that easily, and he'd gone to a lot of trouble
explaining silly, fanciful folk tales to two grownups who
weren't likely to believe them. It was almost as though the
bracer was meant to be mine, almost as though—
"My family has to come first," I whispered again, deliber-
ately speaking aloud. "After they're safe I'll do anything you
want me to, but they come first. After that— Well, I guess
you could say I'm yours."
I grinned a little at that, suddenly feeling that everything
would work out in our rescue attempt. Even if Evon wasn't
actively on our side, we could win if he wasn't against us.
And once my father and sisters were safe, I had a fantastic
adventure to look forward to, fighting in Evon's name, search-
ing out his enemies and defeating them, traveling all over the
world—
If I wasn't married off first.
That stupid, deflating thought came all by itself, ruining
my newly-arrived good mood and putting my fists to my hips
in annoyed frustration. I could just see myself telling my
father I couldn't marry because I'd been choseft by Evon to
fight in his name; if he didn't run immediately for a healer to
treat the fever I had to be suffering from, he'd lock me in my
apartment in chains until it was time for the ceremony. And if
I told him instead that Kylin was an enemy, he'd either refuse
to believe it or rear back and refuse to honor the betrothal
contract.
Which would bring him the sort of trouble I'd been trying
to keep away.
But if I went through with the marriage and Kylin was
named my father's heir, how long would my father live?
If I married it could mean my father's life, if I didn't he
would be dishonored and disgraced. Whatever I did would be
wrong, but I had to do somethingI I put my hands to my hair
and closed them to fists, wishing I'd never answered the letter
to come home, wishing I'd swung that piece of wood harder
that morning. I'd been worse than a damned fool, worrying
about what I did to someone who was an enemy! If I ever got
another chance at him—!
"I knocked and 1 thought I heard someone say to come

328
Sharon Green	*
in," a voice suddenly interrupted, sounding faintly amused.
"Was I mistaken, or have you decided to work for Oeran
after all?"
I looked up to see Rull just inside the partially opened
door, one arm high up on the door edge, the other hand a
loose fist resting on his swordbelt. His broad, familiar face
had a grin on it, and his light eyes were moving slowly over
me, giving the impression he'd never seen me before. I
couldn't understand why he was inspecting me like that until
I remembered that a shirt was all 1 had on, and it wasn't even
buttoned. As strange as it sounds I would have been more
comfortable if I'd been stark naked, a state Rull had seen me
in a lot more often than once.
"I think advanced age is starting to make you imagine
things," I told him sourly as I turned back to the bed to reach
for my trousers. "You weren't invited in, but you are being
invited out. I'm in the middle of building a good hate for men
and you're keeping me from it, so you'll just have to— Hey!"
"Hey, yourself," he said as he kept me from snatching back
the trousers he'd suddenly pulled out of my hands, holding them
behind him before tossing them away. "I warned you about
being disrespectful toward your Fist leader, but female infants
don't listen too well. Now you're going to regret it.*'
"Damn you, Rull!" I growled as he grabbed me, strug-
gling to break the grip of his arms. I was in no mood to play
games, but he didn't particularly care. He laughed as he
pulled me tight against his leathers, giving me no opportunity
to kick, but then the laughter died, his fist was in my hair,
and he was kissing me the way he had before that odd trouble
between us had started. It was something I'd been missing,
something I'd thought I'd never have again, and I kissed him
back with all the loneliness and misery I'd been feeling since
I'd left him and the others. I'd been so afraid they wouldn't
want me back again, so afraid I'd never find them even if I
managed to get free to go looking . . .
"Well, now, that's what I call a properly enthusiastic
greeting," he murmured when he finally let the kiss end, still
holding me tip against him. "It makes me more than glad we
came after you, even beyond the fact that we'll also be there
to fight beside you. By Evon, I missed you, you impertinent
female infant."

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER	329
"Not nearly as much as I missed you," I countered,
enjoying the feel of his leather where the shirt didn't cover
me. "I know I shouldn't have left that way, but by the time I
got over being mad it was too late to turn back. Obviously
I've been too fuzzy-headed to ask this before, but— Why are
you all here? I had the terrible feeling I'd never see any of
you again."
"That would be the day," he said with a snort as I raised
my head to look at him, his hand not at my hair sliding down
the back of me. "You may be an infant but you're still one of
us, and you don't give up one of your own that easily. And
besides, I had a pressing reason to come even if the others
didn't. I wanted to apologize to you for what I said—and
explain why 1 said it. You feel so damned good, I know I was
right coming after you."
His hand had found the bottom of the shirt and had gone
under it to the bare flesh beneath, his touch as familiar as his
face and a good deal more arousing. He'd had enough time to
learn his way thoroughly around me, and when I gasped and
tried to push free he only chuckled.
"The last time we were together you really wanted this,"
he murmured, holding me still again while he continued to
stroke me. "Are you trying to say you're not interested any
longer?"
I wasn't able to say much of anything, barely able to
squirm around in an effort to dislodge his hand, and then I
was down on the bed on my back with him leaning over me.
He was able to reach me a lot more easily that way, and
while his right hand went back to stroking and his left took
my hair again, his lips came down to stiffened nipples that
the shirt had fallen away from.
"I love a woman who's uninterested," he said, using his
lips and tongue between and around the words. "It's so much
fun making her interested, or at least trying to, I don't seem
to be getting very far with you."
The hell he wasn't, and the hell he didn't know it. I
moaned as I tried pushing his face and hand away, nearly
drowning out his chuckling, but I was lost and just trying to
keep from admitting it. Rull had almost always done that to
me, using what he'd learned through the years to roll over
any objections I might have, and I'd never been able to resist

330
Sharon Green	*
him. With all he knew he was just about the best I'd ever
tried, and right then I needed his attentions badly.
"Evon broil you, what are you waiting for?" I finally
gasped out, burying my fists in his hair as I began feeling the
first of those shuddering chills he always brought. "If you
take much longer, you'll end up stroking a corpse."
"With you, you can bet I'd notice the difference," he
answered, his heavier breathing turning his voice husky. "Let
me go, woman, or we'll both end up done."
It was really hard unknotting my fingers from his hair, but
after a moment I managed it and he didn't waste any time. As
soon as his swordbelt was gone he yanked his shirt off over
his head and threw it away, then did no more than drop his
lower leathers before coming back to me. He was absolutely
enflamed, possibly even worse off than I was, and he surged
into me with a groan that was all desire and nothing of
technique. I grunted at the unexpected ferocity of the impact,
beginning to rise up in protest, but his arms came to hold me
while he thrust furiously, and his lips ended anything 1 might
have said.
After a long while the mindless need seemed to loosen its
grip on him, and he was able to return to his usual way of
sharing sex. By the time it was over my body had been
soothed and satisfied too, but I had also become even more
aware of just how long a day it had been. When he let me go
I just lay there on the frilly yellow bed cover, and he made a
soft sound of amusement and smoothed my tangled hair back.
"It looks like old age is catching up to you, too," he said,
looking down at me from where he lay propped up on an
elbow to my right. "If I recall correctly, you used to have
more enthusiasm left over. I didn't hurt you, did I?"
"I'm just tired," I answered with a brief headshake, re-
flecting privately that I hadn't been so much hurt as—unex-
pectedly disappointed, it almost was. Despite the less than
usual beginning of our time together, Rull was still the best
around; thinking there was—someone—who suited me more
was stupidity, the imagination of an overtired mind, and
nothing to waste time considering for very long.
"If you're tired, then you'd better get as much rest as you
can before we leave," he said, putting a hand to my middle
and stroking gently. "I think you understand now how much

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER	331
I really did miss you, and once this is all over 1 want to talk
to you about a decision I've made. Trying to fight the deci-
sion was what caused me to jump on you the way 1 did before
you left, but I'm not fighting it any longer."
He leaned down to touch his lips softly to mine, obviously
getting ready to leave, but I couldn't let him do it. He'd said
so much that it had become not enough, and I had to find out
what he meant.
"Rull, I don't understand," 1 said, putting my hand to the
muscled hardness of his arm. "What decision are you talking
about, and what does it have to do with me?"
"Softy—once this trouble is all finished with, you'll be
coming back to the Company and the Fist, won't you?" he
asked, something really strange like reluctant eagerness be-
hind the words. The sobriety in his eyes was just as strange,
making him look very young and vulnerable and almost
frightened. "I suppose I'll have to talk to your father first, to
see how he'll take it, but I won't change my mind even if he
disapproves. If we have to, we can all join a Company that's
hired out in another kingdom in another country, and that
way it won't matter how mad he gets."
"Rull, I still can't understand what you're talking about,"
I protested, for some odd reason glad that I was lying down.
"I want to come back to the Fist once this is all over, but—
Rull, I've been betrothed to someone, and I may have to
marry him/'
I hated saying the words like that, admitting out loud
something that was almost made more real by the voicing of
it. Rull seemed to freeze when he heard them, and when life
and movement returned a moment later, he was no longer
young and innocent.
"Who is he?" he asked, the demand hard and harsh and
flat, his light eyes showing all the ice left over from the
freezing. "Your father had no right doing that even if he is a
duke. Who's the man?"
"He's—supposed to be a son of Duke Trame of Arthil," I
answered, almost afraid not to speak. I had never seen Rull
look like that before, and the chill in his eyes had no trouble
reaching my flesh. "I've met him and I despise him, but I
may have to marry him anyway. The situation is more com-
plex than I can tell you, but my father's doing it because he

332
Sharon Green	*
needs an heir. I'm determined to think of a way out of the
mess, but—Rull, what's wrong?"
"Wrong?" he asked, taking a deep breath that suddenly
brought back the man I'd known so long. "Nothing's wrong,
you just surprised me. So you met the twerp and you can't
stand him, eh? Well, don't you worry your head about it,
we'll find a way out together. And after that there won't be
anyone to stand between us."
"Between—us?" I repeated, my mind whirling in confu-
sion as I stared up at him. "You do mean 'us' as in the Fist,
don't you? You hate getting involved in anything permanent
with a woman, so you can't mean—us."
"Infant girl, there's still a lot about men you haven't
learned," he said, a grin starting as he raised a hand to stroke
my face with one finger. "Some men spend most of their
time running away from serious involvements, but one day
they look up and see a woman they don't want to run from.
At first it makes them nervous and they might even decide
they're going soft in the head, but they still can't get their
feet moving and don't even want to. They're caught, just the
way you caught me, and that's the decision I made. I want to
be caught, and as soon as we've left this place behind us
we're getting married."
"Married," I echoed, feeling even sicker than the first
time I'd heard that word, days ago from my father. "But—
What about the Fist? And the others, the others will be upset.
Jak and Foist and Ham ..."
"Our Fistmates won't be anything but happy for us," he
interrupted with a laugh of pleasure. "My marrying you will
keep you in the Fist until we can find a new fifth, and then
you'll be able to step aside. That very night I'll pour your cup
of Blue juice myself, and then we'll see how long it takes to
get the first of our own Fist started. Oh, Softy, you don't
know how I can't wait."
He pulled me to him and hugged me really hard, and then
he decided he'd better go before he made me even more tired
than I already was. I lay there just staring up at the yellow
silk of the canopy over the bed while he dressed, was given
one last kiss, and then he- was gone with the door closed
behind him. Only then did I close my eyes with a shudder,
and turn to bury my face in the cover I lay on.

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER	333
We're getting married, Rull had said. I've arranged for you
to be married, my father had said, you have to marry me,
Kylin had said.
Wasn't there anyone in the world interested in what /
wanted? Even just in passing? Rull had been ready to kill the
man I was betrothed to, without making any attempt to find
out if I wanted him dead. Kylin had said the King would ruin
my father if I didn't go through with the marriage, and
wouldn't care that the refusal was mine. The Law didn't
allow for a woman's refusal, so even the Law didn't care. No
one cared, and no one would ask, and I wished I had never
been born. I didn't want to be an uncared-about female or a
narrow-minded, one-sided male, or even a duck swimming in
a lake. I wanted to be no one and nothing, and if I were really
lucky I'd find that very desirable state before the end of the
fight at the castle.
Kylin was able to keep his foul humor mostly under control
until he was on the road to Gensea, but as soon as the
monotony of the long ride began it was like a floodgate
opening. He was still far enough away from the city for
attack from bandits to be something of a possibility, but he
had no time or patience for considerations of that sort. If
anyone was foolish enough to attack him, they would not live
long enough to realize the terrible mistake they'd made.
"Charity!" he growled under his breath, still seething from
having had to be grateful and pleasant when all he'd wanted
to do was curse at the top of his lungs and dismember
dangerous living things with his bare hands. He'd never had
to take charity in his life, not even when he'd first left home
with nothing but his sword and a bow, but with his purse
empty except for a few coppers he'd had absolutely no other
choice. He'd needed a horse and he'd finally gotten one, the
only one charity would supply.
"Horse!" he muttered with a deeper growl, glaring down
at what he was riding. Nag would have been a good deal
more like it, and only Evon's grace had kept it from being an
ancient nag. The thing was a dirty gray in color with a black
mane and tail, and it was just possible Kylin would have

334
Sharon Green	*
made better time on his own two feet than he was making on
his mount's four. If he'd been able to pay for a horse it might
have been a different story, but with no more than a few
coppers in his hand ...
"You have to see it from their point of view," Veslin had
said after showing him the only mount that had been offered
for his use. "They're grateful to you and the girl for having
helped them with their problem, but they still have to think
about their own survival. Very few of them can afford to be
out the price of a good horse, which would happen if for
some reason you weren't able to send the silver you were
ready to promise. If I had the money I would be more than
happy to lend it to you, but I'm just a guest in Indris' house.
Why don't you ask my daughter? I'm sure she spends very
little only because she'd like to have something to leave her
sons when she's gone."
Sure, Kylin thought morosely, everyone spends very little
so they'll have something to leave to sons who are earning
Blade and fighter pay—and who might not live to inherit it.
Indris probably wouldn't have hesitated giving him the silver,
but where would that have left her, especially after the lavish
meals she'd been providing for her guests? And what would
happen to her if he did indeed end up dead before he could
repay the debt? He wasn't a man who could ask a thing like
that of a woman, not even for the best of reasons. Veslin
didn't seem prepared to ask the favor for him—not that that
would have made it any better—and Kylin had had the strang-
est feeling that the priest of Evon was particularly pleased
with the joke of a horse he had brought back.
Which left him riding a nag with only a single gait, one
best described as a stumble rather than a trot or canter or
gallop. Kylin wasn't even sure the horse would make it to
Gensea, but the horse appeared to be totally unconcerned. It
continued along the road in its stumble, unimpressed with
everything around it including its rider, sticking to its same,
uneven pace. Kylin began thinking again about the Laws
governing cold-blooded murder, and was grimly pleased to
remember that they didn't usually apply when a Blade was
the victim. Blades and Fighters were supposed to be able to
take care of themselves, especially when it was one Fighter
contemplating the murder of one Blade.

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER	335
If the Blade lived long enough for the Fighter to murder
her. Kylin felt that tightening in his middle again, that churn-
ing, gnawing fury he'd been feeling ever since he woke with
a knot on his head. What in Evon's name had made the
woman do that to him? And then simply take off, without
waiting for the escort? His left hand curled into a harder fist
around the reins, his mind writhing under Jhe lash of the only
reason that would come to him, the only reason supported by
everything that had happened. The woman who was meant to
be his wife was so repelled by him, that she would rather risk
her life than stay anywhere near him.
"What am I going to do?" the young Fighter whispered,
all anger and rage drained out of him, all other concerns
buried by that single, most important one. He'd given his
word to go through with the marriage, and he knew how
badly Duke Rilfe needed an heir, but what about the girl?
Tisah, his Tisah, the sort of woman who had only inhabited
his dreams until he had actually found her at Gensea, a
woman he would happily give his life for—and a woman who
loathed the very sight of him, the least touch of his hand.
"But, why?" Kylin demanded, unaware that he spoke
aloud. "Why does she hate me so?"
They had begun growing close, he knew they had, but
every time he had started believing the warmth couldn't help
but blossom, it had suddenly died out instead! It was almost
as though she really did like him, but refused to allow herself
to admit it. Or to show him any sign of it. But did it matter
why she was doing it? Wasn't it enough to know that she
wanted no part of him? Could he spend the rest of his life
inflicting himself on a woman who, for whatever reason,
despised him to her very soul?
"I'll have to have a talk with Duke Rilfe," Kylin mut-
tered, ignoring the way his head had begun to throb just a
little. "It isn't some character I'm pretending to be that the
girl hates, it's me. If we can't find out why, or finding out
why doesn't change anything, he'll have to choose another
heir. I'll stay there and help until he does, making sure
nothing happens to Tisah, and then I'll—leave."
Leave. Turn his back on the woman he'd dreamed about all
his life, letting another man possess what should have been

336
Sharon Green	*
his. He hated the very thought of it, felt the knife twist deeper
inside (him, but what choice did he have?
The pain in his left palm flared as the leather rein bit into
the wound there, but Kylin paid no attention to it. The
bandage was gone, just as the girl who had bandaged the
wound was gone, and a little more pain simply didn't matter.
Thanks to the creeping pace of the horse he rode, Kylin
didn't reach the city until after dark. Since he was going
directly up to the castle he didn't particularly care that the
city gates were closed, but when he tried to take the road
leading around and up he was given a nasty surprise. The
members of the City Guard camped just off the road passed
along the bad news, then offered to share their fire with him
until morning if he wanted to join their growing force. He
asked them if there was any word concerning the whereabouts
of the lady Sofaltis, was told there wasn't, then thanked them
and rode back into the night. He knew better than to believe
their attack force would get anywhere, and he needed some
time to think.
Once Kylin was out of sight of the Guardsmen, he doubled
back and picked his way through the dark until he wasn't far
from the road where it lay above the city. His mount located
a patch of grass and began munching contentedly, ignoring its
rider who took the food sack Indris had provided and sat
down with it near a boulder. A fire, which might be seen by
those in the castle or the Guardsmen camped below, was
definitely out. The food was already cooked, the night air
was warm enough, and Kylin didn't need light to think by.
What he needed were facts, but unfortunately there weren't
many of those.
The Duke and his younger daughters were being held
hostage in the castle, and no one knew where the lady Sofaltis
was. Kylin considered that good news rather than bad, since
it was Sofaltis those "rebels" wanted in exchange for the
Duke and the little girls. If Sofaltis were in their hands they
would already be gone, needing no more than a threat to the
safety of their captive to be sure they would not be followed
in force. His Tisah had reached the city safely and was still
free, he was willing to stake his life on that.
^ But how long would she stay free? Even if the city officials

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER	337
didn't talk themselves into believing the Duke was far more
important than one of his daughters, he was willing to bet
Sofaltis would not hesitate to offer herself in place of her
father and sisters. She wouldn't be pleased when Kylin did
his damnedest to keep that from happening, but he was
prepared to sacrifice her very high opinion of him in order to
assure her safety. Her father would want it that way, and
Kylin more than agreed with him.
The only problem was, that might very well cost the Duke
his life. Kylin bit into the cold meat he'd taken from the sack,
chewing thoughtfully before swallowing, then automatically
reached for the bread and cheese also in the sack. They had
all believed Duke Rilfe would be safe until the proper, biased
man had been named his heir, but apparently Nimram had
made a drastic change in his plans. Why the change, and
what could they possibly hope to gain by coming out in the
open like that? Why did they want Sofaltis so badly, and even
above that—what could be done to save Duke Rilfe and his
daughters?
Kylin was sunk so deeply in thought, the hours slid past
without his even noticing. He drank occasionally from the
waterskin that had been given him with the food, but his
mind was too busy reviewing everything he had heard about
and learned as a King's Fighter for the intervals of refresh-
ment to be more than automatic. It was difficult to take a
castle even with a good-sized army, but individuals had been
known to broach the stoutest of walls on their own; what he
needed to do was recall the details of those times, and
compare them with the situation he currently faced.
Since he hadn't yet remembered anything worth serious
consideration, Kylin was surprised when he suddenly found
himself distracted. He moved stiffly against the boulder at his
back, looking up at a dark sky that told him more than
half the night was gone, then felt it again. There was
a—tightening—around his lower left arm, from his wrist
upward, just as though someone had wrapped a hand around
him and closed the fingers more tightly to get his attention.
He raised his arm to look at it, expecting to see nothing in the
dark—
And saw, instead, a ghostly silver glow, one he was crazily
willing to bet was a bright gleam's version of a whisper.

338
Sharon Green	*
"The silver bracer!" he breathed, well beyond mere sur-
prise. "I'm still wearing the silver bracer!"
But how? Even as his mind demanded an answer to that
question, he knew with absolute certainty that it was no
accident. It might be possible to forget the presence of a
bracer like that for a short while, but not for as long as he
obviously had. And Veslin. The priest of Evon couldn't help
but know he had it, but he hadn't mentioned it even once.
What had he said to Veslin when he'd heard that child's tale
about Evon's panoply? Something about how unlikely it was
that anyone meant to have the special bracers would simply
stumble over the priest entrusted with their keeping?
Sure. Unlikely and a child's tale, nothing that could possi-
bly happen in the real world.
"Blessed Evon, for a god you have the worst timing I've
ever seen," Kylin muttered to the bracer, distantly wondering
if the deity was likely to take offense. "I'd be a fool to try
denying I've been chosen, but how can I simply walk away
from this—"
His words broke off as he felt that—grasping—again, only
this time it was sharper, and in a way more urgent. Kylin
frowned, moved his arm just a little, and was rewarded with a
squeeze that couldn't be anything but a definite affirmative.
Something was going on in the dark that the bracer seemed to
want him to know about, and it was clearly prepared to take
him to that something. Another explanation could be that
he'd lost his mind, but when you came right down to it, he'd
rather be crazy than forced to sit helplessly by, doing nothing
while innocent people suffered.
"And come to think of it, why shouldn't that trash up there
be what I'm supposed to fight against?" he asked softly as he
got to his feet, feeling not in the least absurd. "I apologize
for not being very bright, Evon, and also for what I said.
Unless I really am crazy, your timing couldn't be better."
Left arm out ahead of him, right hand loosening his sword
in its scabbard, Kylin moved the bracer around slowly, felt a
squeeze, then walked carefully ahead through the dark.

Chapter 15
It wasn't much of a surprise to learn that Oeran knew every
unofficial way out of the city there was. Not everyone knew
those ways, in fact most didn't, and those who had the
information were also responsible for its safekeeping. No one
really cared for the idea of having bandits or enemy forces of
any sort suddenly showing up in the middle of the city,
slaughtering anyone they came across, stealing everything not
bolted down, and generally making life extremely unpleas-
ant. For that reason private departures from the city were
available to those who could pay the price, but departure was
all they got. A blindfold and ear plugs hid most of what
needed to be hidden, and deliberate confusion took care of
the rest.
Getting five people out that way wasn't easy, but Oeran
did it alone without complaint. I had the feeling that if it had
been just me he wouldn't have bothered, but with my Fistmates
involved he'd had no choice. He was on his honor, so to
speak, and although most of us grumbled over the necessity—or
the time wasted because of it—no one went so far as to
refuse. We made what plans we could, then followed our host
to the shadow of a warehouse in another district entirely, had
blindfolds put on and ear plugs of wax inserted, then stum-
bled along the rest of the way.
When we were finally unwrapped again, we were a respectable
distance from the city's wall. I looked around as my eyes
readjusted to sight, seeing the torches on my father's castle
up ahead and a small campfire a distance off behind and to
our left. The night was quiet except for the sounds usual to it,
and 1 was grateful for the strength I'd gotten back from the
339

340
Sharon Green	*
very short time I'd slept. I'd be able to do everything I had
to, and would worry about other problems at a more conve-
nient time.
"All right, where do we go now?" Oeran asked me in a
very soft voice, putting the blindfolds and ear plugs in his
pouch rather than simply throwing them away. "Do you have
any idea how far away we are?"
"I think it's more over that way," I said, gesturing to the
left as my eyes went back to the pile of stone that was my
home. "I always looked back to see where I was supposed to
be and wasn't, and then I would enjoy a quiet, private laugh.
This doesn't feel like the right angle."
No one bothered pointing out that I was working on memo-
ries from almost half a lifetime ago; we all knew that, espe-
cially me, and if they didn't do the job we were wasting our
time out there. Oeran simply nodded and led off with the
shielded lantern he'd brought along, picking his way over
stones and around boulders, me coming after him and the
others behind me. My borrowed boots were a fairly good fit,
which was one point of luck in our favor; walking over that
ground was hard enough even without any added problems.
With the number of large boulders just about growing out
of the slope, I also didn't get any questions on why finding
the hidden entrance was so difficult. It stood to reason that it
was supposed to be difficult—if not impossible—to locate
from the outside, and despite the relative nearness of the
doors to the castle, in emergencies they should be very
effective. No enemy force could camp on terrain like that,
sloped with only patches of grass among the stones, pebbles
and boulders; escaping at night, especially after a successful
entry into the castle, should be more than possible.
Only we were more concerned with getting in than out.
The night air was cool and fresh, reminding me of times
filled with little in the way of real worry and trouble, encour-
aging me to put fingers to the boulder I stopped near after
we'd wandered around a while. The stone was both rough
and smooth to touch, weathered down but also pitted and torn
from whatever had originally tumbled it to its stopping place
on the slope. The jewels of my childhood, I remembered with
a smile, more precious to me than rubies and diamonds and

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER	341
sapphires were to the adults of the world. I had known that
secret place so well, how could 1 have forgotten—
And then 1 was back to that time again, standing alone in
the dark in nightgown and boots, breathing in the delicious
scent of something that none of my brothers could ever have.
Let them go hunting with our father while I was left behind, 1
had something better than hunting where there was even an
arrow. An arrow of stone, pointing away from my place of
emergence, showing me the direction in which true freedom
and adventure lay—
"That's it," 1 breathed, suddenly excited, turning to the
others. "The smaller boulders and bigger stones were ar-
ranged in the shape of a large arrow. Going downslope, very
definitely downslope, a small cleared area with big boulders
all around above it. 1 had to step around the side of mine to
see the castle, but I could see the arrow as soon as i came
out."
Oeran and my Fistmates stirred with renewed hope, and
then we separated to look for the landmark I'd remembered. I
continued along the slope in the direction I'd been going,
trying to get the castle into the proper memory place, and
then I made a small sound of annoyance with myself before
settling into almost a full crouch. That was the height I'd
been looking at it from way back then, which made quite a
bit of difference. I couldn't see quite enough of the castle like
that, which meant we were just a little too far downslope. I
straightened again and signaled the others, then led the way
up.
It was Ham who finally found my arrow, and we all shared
in his grin when we joined him. The stone-dotted head,
visible even in the moonlight, pointed away from one boulder
that would have been the fletching on a real arrow, and
looked like nothing but a jumble of rocks except from right
behind it. We could have overlooked it as easily as found it,
and I don't think I was the only one who said a few quiet
words of thanks to Evon for his help. He had helped us find
the place, but hopefully we'd be able to take it from there
alone.
The footing was a little more uneven than I remembered it,
and we had to throw a good number of small rocks out of the
way in order to make room for the pry bar, but the lantern

342
Sharon Green	*
helped us to see what we were doing so it wasn't long before
the bar was in place. Jak forced it into the ground under the
bottom front edge of the boulder, and I held my breath while
he and Foist leaned on the bar, trying to coax movement out
of a door that possibly hadn't been opened for more than a
decade. If it hadn't been opened it would be hard to open, but
if it had been opened it probably wouldn't open at all. 1 had
time to get that far in the confused groping of my thoughts,
and then, with a reluctant groan and a scrape, the front
section of the boulder moved out toward us.
After that Ham's fingers were able to reach the edge of the
door, and a moment later we were bending under the braced
inner bar to get into the tunnel proper. Oeran went first with
the lantern, Rull followed immediately behind with me after
him, and then Foist, Jak and Ham. I was ready to just keep
going, but Jak put a hand to my shoulder.
"It isn't polite to leave doors open behind you, especially,
when you're coming in uninvited," Jak pointed out in a very
soft voice. "How do we close that rock again from in here
without the brackets to pull on?"
"There's a chipped out handhold at the bottom of the door
on the right," I whispered back, torn between doing the right
thing and getting on with the real reason we were there.
"That's how I got the thing closed when I was using it on a
regular basis. The way the hinges are hung makes it easy."
Jak turned away to our other two Fistmates, but door-
closing was an activity I had no interest in. I moved past Rull
and Oeran, who had stopped to wait for the others, drew my
blade, and headed up the close, dark tunnel toward the door I
had really been aching to reach. I was used to moving
through that tunnel in the dark so my feet didn't hesitate, but
a moment later a faint glow lit the stone in front of me. Oeran
and his lantern, along with most of the others, had caught up
to me, and we went on the rest of the way together.
I had wanted to be the First one through the wall and into
the castle, but hadn't been able to argue the point that the one
needing the smallest opening should be first. If there were
guards around there was less chance of their being alerted that
way, most especially since the wall opened behind a heavy
hanging. Oeran's shoulders may have been wider than mine,
but there was no doubt that he was more slender and could fit

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER	343
through a narrower opening as long as he went sideways. My
palms itched while he blew out the lantern then leaned on the
stones of the second doorway, moving as slowly and quietly
as it was humanly possible to do. He also had his sword tight
in his fist, and once there was a slit of lighter darkness just
big enough for him, he disappeared through. I had deliber-
ately set my mind into the patience of a stalking pattern,
knowing how important it would be to stay calm while wait-
ing, and was therefore faintly surprised when Oeran was back
just about immediately.
His terse gesture brought us all out after him, one at a time
and without sound, to find the corridor of the family wing
silent and deserted. Ham came last, having closed the wall
behind him, and then we split into the two groups of three
we'd settled on earlier, one to each side of the corridor in
single file. I led off in front of Rull and Foist on the right
with Oeran leading Ham and Jak on the left, but for the
moment everyone was following me. Oeran had actually
visited the castle a couple of times over the years and was
sure he could find the lower cells where Traixe and his men
and the Guard were probably being held, but first I had to get
him out of the family wing to a part of the house he knew.
Visitors were often taken all through the castle when they
first came as guests, but no one was taken through the family
wing.
We prowled from one corridor to the next through the
deepest silence I'd ever experienced there, even when com-
pared to the times my father had taken my brothers and most
of the fighters on hunting trips. Most of the small torches
were unlit and there wasn't even a whisper of sound, not of
servants moving around seeing to their chores, not of Guards
walking or changing their posts, nothing. Even the air felt
heavy and half awake, less the quiet of night than the com-
plete lack of living beings to stir it, and I had to clench my
teeth to keep from shivering. What if they had decided to kill
my father and sisters, and simply bluff their way to what they
wanted without needing to worry about escapes and rescue
attempts? What if 1 was too late to do more than begin to
revenge my blood? What if—
I stopped for an instant to force those thoughts out of my
mind, then went on again with only that faint hesitation to

344
Sharon Green	*
show what my emotions had tried to put me through. If my
family was dead then the ones who had done it would follow
behind them, more slowly and painfully than their worst
nightmares had ever hinted was possible, and not before they
had told me who was ultimately responsible for what had
been done. Then it would be their leader's turn, and I would
show him things I'd learned from Blades who came from the
eastern mountains, things that were passed on in shuddering
whispers by those who hadn't, like the mountain dwellers,
grown up with them. Someone wanted me rather badly, but
when they got me they would be as far from pleased as it's
possible to get.
We reached the end of the family wing and moved out into
more public parts of the castle, still meeting and hearing no
one, and then Oeran paused to wave a hand at me. That was
the signal that told me he now knew where he was, and it
proved to be true. At the next intersecting corridor he led his
group to the left, which would get them to the stone stairway
leading down to the cells it was his job to find. If the cells
were empty he would have something of a problem—and so
would we—but that could be worried about if and when it
happened. My primary concern was finding the hostages—
assuming they were still alive—and getting as close as possi-
ble to them before anyone was released. After that simple
chaos would look like calm, and three swords would be able
to do as much damage as thirty.
At the intersection Oeran took to the left, I led the way
right. If my sisters were being held in their apartments there
would have been guards in the family wing, so that meant
everyone was more or less together. If I had been running
things for the enemy I would have done it just that way,
keeping my sisters close to my father but not exactly with
him, so that if he made any trouble they could be killed
before he had a chance to reach them. I think that if my
sisters had been boys my father would have tried anyway, but
he had the same strange outlook so many men seemed to
have. Death is acceptable and honorable if it comes to men
and male children, but the thought of the same happening to
girls is appalling and horrifying. That's because women are
child-bearers, I could almost hear Veslin saying in my mind,
more important to the race and therefore, unfortunately, more

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER	345
restricted. It may not be fair, but that's the way it is . . . the
way it is . . . the way it is . . .
Rull's hand on my shoulder stopped me in midstep, bring-
ing me back from a distraction I couldn't believe I'd fallen
into. I was either more tired than I'd believed or I was an
idiot, letting my mind wander when— When there was the
sound of voices ahead! Excitement surged through me at the
proof that my guess had been right, that my father and sisters
were being held in my father's wing of the castle, where there
was easier access to other parts of it. Voices and shadow
movement were coming from the partially opened door lead-
ing to the smallest of the private dining halls, the one that
held a board seating no more than twenty-five. The door was
ajar but there were no guards in front of it, showing how safe
the enemy felt there in the heart of my home. I felt my lips
twist and then peel back from my teeth, the snarl rising up in
me, visual but silent. Feeling safe is not the same as being
safe, a truism the enemy was about to learn.
Rull obviously wanted to take over the lead from that
point, but I moved away from his hand and ahead before he
could step in front of me. We weren't in the Company, we
were on my home ground, and our Fist was temporarily
broken anyway. I thought I could feel him cursing in the
whispered breath of no-sound that trailed me as I ghosted
forward, but that was no place for an argument and he knew
it as well as I. I hugged the right wall of the corridor, being
careful of where my shadow from the torches fell, and in
moments was sliding up to the door to the dining hall. From
that close the voices were a good deal more distinct, and
when I went down to my knees and peered around the door
edge, I could see as well as hear.
"... won't do either of you any good," the louder voice
was saying, a voice that would have been more familiar
without the ring of absolute authority it was then maintaining.
"Why suffer needlessly, when we already have part of the
information? Give me the rest of it, and then we can wait
quietly for your ransom to be paid."
"My lord Duke has nothing to say, and neither have I,"
Traixe stated from where he stood between two guards,
the calm, steady words worlds more impressive due to the
fact that he wasn't standing on his own. The men to either

346
Sharon Green	*
side of him were the ones holding him up, necessary in view
of what Traixe had been put through. His brown leather shirt
was gone, some of the wounds gouged into his hard body
were still bleeding, and a number of the burn marks looked as
though they were beginning to suppurate.
My father sat in the large, ornate wooden chair meant to
head the board in that dining hall, but the board had been
pushed back and to the right of the door 1 peered through. His
chair stood almost in the middle of the room to the left, and
when his fists clenched I could see that he was tied to the arm
rests by the wrists. His face was expressionless, but the
hatred pouring out of his eyes was strong enough to melt the
stone of the walls, a hatred that should have done more than
annoy his captor. 1 could see that the man was not only a
traitor but a fool, to have served my father for three years and
yet not have learned anything about him.
"Really, Duke Rilfe, you're usually a good deal more
reasonable than this," Sir Fonid protested, the annoyance the
traitor felt sharpening his voice. "Do I have to have Traixe
flayed before your eyes before you'll tell me what I want to
know? You're making him suffer for nothing, trying to hide
the locations of tunnels I already partially know about. The
secret is out, so you no longer really have anything to hide.
Tell me where the rest of them are, and I'll have your man
here taken to the healer."
"My man there, as you call him, knows better than to
expect healing from you," my father grated, his body still
except for the way his wrists pulled at the leather holding
them. "He won't survive this any more than I will, especially
if we tell you what you want to know. You'll then be behind
my heir's guard the same way you slipped behind mine, and
he won't have any idea that you're there. I won't give you his
life on a platter, and neither will Traixe."
"Your heir," Sir Fonid said with a snort of derision,
glancing to his right to where Traixe was being held erect.
"You won't have an heir until the elder of those two girls
reaches an age to marry, and then the choice of who it is will
belong to whoever is appointed her and her sister's regent. By
then all of this will have been forgotten, and if the proper
choice is made I won't need to use the information you give
me. At this point there's very little chance that the proper

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER	347
choice wont be made, but I prefer playing it safe. Tell me
what I want to know."
"You act as though my daughter Sofaltis were already
dead," my father said, his tone suddenly brittle as he ignored
Sir Fonid's demand. "I won't believe she's dead, so what
you've said is . . ."
"No, of course she's not dead, nor will .she be," the traitor
interrupted, now impatient enough to gesture the thought
aside. "Our leader has other plans for her, much more impor-
tant plans than providing you an heir through marriage, which
is why we attempted to disrupt the ceremony. But none of
that is truly your concern. What does concern you is the
question I've asked, the answer to which I will have this very
moment. If Traixe's pain fails to move you to a reply, we'll
see if the same may be said with your youngest daughter in
his place."
Again Rull's hand came to me as 1 stiffened, a mild
reaction compared to the twisting agony to be seen on my
father's face. Rull was trying to make sure I'd noticed that
the "rebels" holding Traixe and standing around in the room
were tan-leathered mercenaries rather than clumsy ex-villagers
in homespun, but I'd already seen that for myself and dis-
missed it as a problem. Nothing and no one was going to
keep me from freeing my family, and giving Traixe the
spilling of other blood due him. I began to gather myself—
and an interruption came from an unexpected source.
"Sir Fonid, really, everything you've said is quite unac-
ceptable," a voice I knew protested, and then he walked into
my line of sight from the right side of the room. The man
Timper, who had brought me my father's letter, still dressed
in tights and tunic and looking like a pompous page.
"This is none of your affair, man," Sir Fonid snapped in
greater annoyance, barely turning his head in the direction of
the one who approached him from behind. "Go back to your
place by the children, and keep silent."
"I do believe I've kept silent long enough," Timper an-
swered with a sniff, his familiar disapproval of things more
than obvious. "I strongly doubt that our blessed leader would
approve of harming innocent children, and you may be cer-
tain he will hear of your intentions on the point. As for the
lady Sofaltis, she will most certainly not be made to leave

348
Sharon Green	*
these halls. This is her home and she will remain here, far
from those who have taught her such unladylike habits."
"So you believe you know the intentions of our leader
better than i?" Sir Fonid asked with poisoned sweetness, this
time turning full to face the other man. "You, a thickheaded
messenger boy incapable of performing even the simplest of
tasks? The girl was to have been taken at the last of the inns
before the two of you reached the city, but even sending a
message to our people at the proper time was beyond you—as
was holding her there until they arrived. Do you deny that?"
"Through no fault of my own, 1 fell ill the night of our
arrival," Timper replied stiffly, what I could see of his left
cheek beginning to turn red. "When your man came to me
instead, I told him which room was the girl's. Is the fault to
be mine that he had no stomach for facing alone a girl who
was armed? He set out to make the attempt, then abandoned
it to fetch his followers instead. In the morning I meant to
pretend to still be ill, holding the lady there with concern
until the others might arrive, but her eagerness to be home led
her to depart extremely early, leaving me no more than a
message of her intentions. When I learned of her departure, I
was very upset."
"You were very upset," Sir Fonid mimicked, looking
Timper up and down in disgust. "And the night before you
were too ill to help my man against not a girl who was
armed, but a Blade of a Fist! What help you might have been
1 couldn't begin to imagine, unless it would have been to
distract her attention while your betters took advantage of that
distraction. And you may give your thanks to Grail that the
girl's escape from the wagon taking her north was due to the
negligence of those in charge of her, not to the rescue of
those who followed a trail left by a badly damaged wheel.
Your denial concerning that odd occurrence fails to strike me
as wholly truthful, as I'm certain it would strike our leader if
he were told of it."
"And I'm certain our leader would agree that the girl's
proper place is here," Timper returned, still stiffly embar-
rassed but making no attempt to deny the charge leveled
against him, "She cannot be central to our leader's plans 'for
she is no more than a woman, and has not the leader himself
taught that a woman's proper place is in a man's home?

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER	349
These other, unacceptable, concepts must surely be yours,
part and parcel of your fear of the girl. I, however, feel
nothing of such fear, therefore will I accept my clear duty and
keep the girl here—as my own wife."
"Ah, so that's the way the wind blows, does it?" Sir
Fonid said with a laugh and a sneer, the understanding in his
expression heavy with ridicule. "Your—certainty—about all
of these matters, not to speak of your odd illnesses and
doings, all stem from the fact that you want the girl for
yourself! How it pains me to tell you, boy, that the burning in
your loins has warped what little intelligence you began with.
One such as you would never be allowed the wedding of the
daughter of a Duke, even if she weren't meant for other
things. You've overstepped yourself far more than you know."
"How dare you," Timper choked, his outrage actually
tightening his hands to fists at his sides. "I am a gentleman,
Sir Fonid, far more than you can truthfully lay claim to, and
have been a loyal follower of the leader and Grail a good deal
longer than you. I will have no upstart intruder speak to me of
overstepping, most especially one so honorless as you. Did
you not have a need to imagine reasons to wish the lady
Sofaltis away, I am convinced you would have raised not a
single finger to keep her from being sacrificed in marriage to
that—that—"
"Devil of a Duke's son?" Sir Fonid finished for him, the
words low and filled with loathing. "I despise all of the
nobility, but most especially do I despise those who think
themselves better than we who are clearly their superiors, in
intellect if nothing else. Petty nobles such as you, boy, one at
least who need no longer be tickled to his fancy."
Timper seemed ready to pursue the argument, but whatever
he would have said was lost as Sir Fonid reached to the
dagger sheathed at his belt and slowly began drawing it. Not
even someone as innocently overbearing as Timper could
have missed Sir Fonid's intention, and he didn't miss it. The
young courier hesitated almost no time at all before starting to
back away, but once again the scene was interrupted. From
what seemed like a good distance away I heard the sound of a
scream, echoing faintly from the stone of the walls with even
fainter sounds of battle behind it, and those in the hall were
able to hear the same. Sir Fonid stopped in the middle of his

350
Sharon Green	*
advance, cocked his head with a look of astonishment on his-
face, then snarled with searing hatred and began to turn to the
mercenaries in the room. It didn't take much to know he was
about to order his hostages slain, but that's what we were
there to prevent.
As fast as I straightened and began running into the room,
it still wasn't so fast that Rull and Foist weren't already
moving with me, three minds and swords with the same
thought and intention. Again everything began happening so
rapidly it was difficult separating and following it, nothing
but flashes here and there sketching in the whole of the
picture. Sir Fonid whirled toward us without being able to
give the order he had been about to, but the mercenaries
didn't need orders to know that they had a fight on their
hands. The two holding Traixe dropped him as they began
reaching for their weapons, the others in the hall coming alive
even faster, but we who were attacking still had the reaction
edge on them. Rull headed left, toward the largest block of
mercenaries, Foist to the right to the corner where my sisters
sat on crude pallets, trembling together in fear, and I—I went
straight ahead and only slightly left toward my father, Traixe—
and Sir Fonid.
The chief traitor still stood with his dagger in his hands,
the snarl of hatred just about etched into his face, but this
time he wasn't facing a helpless Timper. I could have told him
how much good a dagger was against a sword, but 1 had no
urge to talk to the man and even less urge to waste time on
him before those two mercenaries behind him were taken care
of. My father and Traixe were still in a good deal of danger,
so changing that had to be my first objective. I reached Sir
Fonid, coming in close enough to lure him into swinging
clumsily with his inadequate weapon, knocked it down with
the flat of my blade, then arched up in a backswing and
clipped him hard in the temple with the fingerguard of my
sword. He dropped like a rock loosed from the battlements,
and then it was me against the two mercenaries.
Fighting alone against two swords can be tricky, but no
more than that if the two you're facing aren't used to fighting
together. I breathed a little easier when the first clash of
blades showed me the two probably hadn't even talked much
to each other, let alone fought in tandem, and I felt a faint

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER	351
smile forming at their expressions of frustration. They'd had
the time to kill their two hostages before 1 reached them, had
decided to wait because it was only a girl who was coming at
them, and then discovered that the girl's weapon had the
ability to move them around and away from the men they'd
been guarding. Slashing hard and swinging purely on the
offensive, I'd driven them away from where they'd been to
stand with my back to my father and a Traixe struggling
ineffectively to get to his feet. At that point I went more on
the defensive, intent on holding at the very least until the
now-free House Guard and fighters made it through the rest
of the intruders and got to the dining hall.
"Traixe, untie me!" my father hissed frantically from
where he sat, his words low in a clear attempt not to distract
me. The mercenary on the left came in then, trying for a
backswing to catch my blade long enough for his friend to
finish me, but his friend wasn't expecting the move and was
therefore too far to my right. Instead of using my weapon I
twisted right myself, brought up the bracer to catch the swing
and stop it, then ignored the jarring crash to my left arm to
twist back and lunge hard with my point into the fool's
unprotected middle. He'd taken the chance of opening him-
self wide in order to reach me, and was rewarded by being
able to rest from the fight—permanently.
I jerked my blade free of the falling body in time to keep
the second mercenary from chopping me down, and once
he'd disengaged and fallen back a short way I risked a fast
glance behind me before returning my attention to my re-
maining opponent. The afterimage in my mind showed me
the picture of my father fighting the leather tying him to the
heavy chair, the air filled with the waves of his silent cursing,
Traixe stretched out unconscious not a foot from him. His old
friend had tried to free him, that I knew even without having
seen it, but he just hadn't had enough strength left. The
mercenary came in again then, giving me no chance to try
doing the thing myself, I thought, and then I understood his
real reason. Three of his blademates were abruptly attacking
with him, ones who had apparently gotten past a hard-pressed
Rull, and they were no longer looking grim and frustrated.
Four was usually enough to finish off one, and then my father
would be their prisoner and hostage again.

352
Sharon Green	*
In no more than seconds the sweat was rolling into my-
eyes, nothing but the presence of the bracer and the inability
of the four to fight properly together keeping me alive. I had
nicked one of the three newcomers in the first furious ex-
change, but that had done nothing more than make the others
a bit more cautious. It was ironic that the four now seemed to
be treating me with the same respect they would have given
to a male opponent, an equality that couldn't have come at a
worse time. I felt like cursing and laughing both, but there
wasn't breath enough for either response. It was swing, block,
parry, defend, back a step and start all over, my left arm
screaming in pain from the blows it had taken. My whole
body felt beaten, the very air I gasped in making my lungs
ache, all of it telling me I wouldn't be standing for much
longer. If it had only been my life 1 might have welcomed the
approaching end, but it wasn't only me and I couldn't give up
and a sword swung at me that I couldn't hope to stop and that
would be it and—
But it never reached me. Another blade stopped it, a
longer, heavier blade than any of the rest of us were using, and
then it was fighting on my side, and I had an instant to
breathe before going back to it. An instant to see what I
already—somehow—knew. It was Kylin beside me, the kill-
lust blazing so strongly from his eyes that the four mercenar-
ies seemed to flinch back even before his weapon began
swinging. After that it was his sword they had to contend
with, and a moment later mine beside it, and that was the
well-known beginning of the end. Three of the mercenaries
were already down with the fourth trying to run when the
House forces appeared in the doorway, unshaven and filthy
and badly kept, but armed and more than simply furious. The
mercenary was cut down without being given a chance to
defend himself, and then friendly forces were pouring into the
hall, overrunning everything in mercenary tan.
The fighting was over in no time at all, but there wasn't a
bedlam in the kingdom that could have rivaled the output in
that hall even once it was. Everyone seemed to be looking for
more blood to spill, an attitude I would have shared if my left
arm hadn't been hurting so badly, and the strength I'd thought
I'd regained hadn't disappeared somewhere. I stood for a

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER	353
moment with both arms hanging at my sides, the sword still
in my right hand more a dragging weight than a weapon, then
remembered that my father hadn't yet been untied. It took a
small amount of effort to turn, but that was all the effort I had
to expend. Even as I watched the leather was cut away from
his second wrist by Kylin's blade, and my father pushed out
of the chair to clap the man who had.released him on the
shoulder in thanks, then he turned to me. A quick hug
showed I was still more or less in one piece, and then I was
freed so that he might step over to Traixe's unmoving form
and go to one knee. A muttered, "Thank Evon," told me the
Fighter was only unconscious, and then my father was up and
pushing his way through the crowd toward where my sisters
should be. I followed him with my eyes until the swirling
mob had swallowed him, and then turned back to find that I
was being stared at.
"Are you all right?" the big man who had saved my life
asked, not having moved from his place beside the wooden
chair. "Is any of that blood yours?"
I didn't bother looking down at myself to inspect the
splattered results of my efforts to exterminate mercenaries.
What I did do was shake my head.
"According to those traitors, you're not one of them," I
said, feeling confused as well as dizzy and tired. "I was sure
you were, but I must have been wrong. I'm sorry—"
"You thought I was one of the enemy?" he asked when I
ran out of stupidly inadequate words, his face lighting with a
dazzling smile instead of tightening with insult. "So that's
why you kept acting that way, and why you did all those . . ."
He had finally begun to step forward toward me, but his
advance and his words were cut off together. Somehow my
father had gotten the mob moving to a purpose, and part of it
went to tend to Traixe while a larger section of it swirled
around me. An instant later I found myself beside my father
and my sisters, the poor, frightened little things clinging to
him, but he still had an arm free to put around my shoulders.
With grim-faced fighters surrounding us I was wordlessly
urged to go with them, and as tired as I was I had nothing left
to argue with.
It took my father and me quite some time to get my sisters

354
Sharon Green	*
settled down, and by that time the house's loyal servants and
the ancillary families had also been released from where
they'd been locked up. The girls' women attendants insisted
they were just a little shaky, nothing that would keep them
from seeing to their charges again, so we left them with those
charges sunk into an exhausted sleep—and armed fighters
stationed inside the room as well as outside it—and went to
my apartment. Someone had been efficient enough to light
the lamps in my reception room, which meant my father was
able to go directly over to a tray holding a pitcher and
goblets.
"Thank Evon. Traixe told me no one had supplied you
with decent, adult refreshments," my father said with his
back turned, his hands busy with the pitcher and cups. "If I
hadn't given immediate orders to change that, we'd have to
go all the way to my own apartment before finding what
we've more than earned. Are you sure you're all right?"
He turned toward me then with the filled cups in his hands,
his expression serious and his eyes troubled. I smiled faintly
at how familiar that question was becoming, leaned back in
the chair I had already collapsed into, and nodded my head.
"I haven't been this tired since before last year's snow," I
said, accepting a cup with my right hand. The pain in my left
arm was easing up again, but not so much that I was ready to
use it without good reason. "Once I've had more than three
hours of sleep I'll be my usual brave and exciting self, but I
haven't yet asked about you. Did they hurt you?"
"Only my dignity and pride," he answered with a snort,
pulling a straight chair closer before sitting on it. "That low
traitor Fonid came into my apartment with your sisters and
two of his cronies, daggers at your sisters' throats. I had the
choice of surrendering myself and every Guard and fighter in
the house, or watching my children die. If it had been myself
alone— But it wasn't just me, so I did what I had to. They
didn't do any more than tie me after 1 was disarmed, keeping
me healthy as a bargaining chip, I thought, and then those
mercenaries appeared to help out with securing the castle. I
had no idea you'd gotten away from the ones who had
kidnapped you."
"It was more through Evon's luck than skill," 1 admitted
with a snort of my own, sipping at the excellent wine my cup

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER	355
was filled with. "It took me a while to get back, and when I
did I found those idiots from the city were getting ready to
attack the castle in a lamebrained attempt to rescue you. I
couldn't let that happen, so I got a. few people and came
ahead of them."
"Those were your Fistmates, then," he said with a satis-
fied nod, enjoying the taste of his own^wine. "I won't ask
where they came from, I'm just giad they did. And that fifth
man is from the city, I remember meeting him a time or two.
How in Evon's name did you six get into the castle?"
"Let's just say we'd be wise to be grateful for my—unusually
active childhood," I answered—or evaded, which was a good
deal more like it. I knew my father would be finding out soon
enough exactly what I'd done, but I was in no hurry to rush
the time. After being grateful, 1 was certain he'd find occa-
sion to be something else entirely.
"We'll go into that in a little more detail once we've all
had a chance to rest," he said, the look in his eyes suddenly
very familiar. He knew he wasn't going to like what he
heard, but he was still feeling too relieved and happy to want
to exchange that for shouting. Changing the subject seemed
like a better idea, so that's what he did. "I take it you've
learned a little more about Kylin over the past few days. He
rode out after you when we found you'd been taken, and
since he showed up back here in the middle of the fight, I'm
assuming— What's the matter?"
"It just occurred to me that you weren't surprised at seeing
the way he can handle a sword," I said slowly, straightening
in my chair as the revelation came. "He cut you free and you
thanked him, just as though you approved of him—and al-
ways had. And you had to know he wasn't a Flower. He was
still wearing that ridiculous red swordbelt, but he'd changed
into brown boots instead of the red. If you knew he rode after
me, you also knew—exactly what, Father?"
"That he's a King's Fighter," my father answered heavily,
more than a little guilt darkening his complexion and causing
his gaze to wander around the room. "Trame and I had had it
all worked out in case the enemy came after me as we
suspected they might, but we hadn't expected them to change
their plans. We knew something had gone seriously wrong
when you were kidnapped, so there was no longer any need

356
Sharon Green	*
for Kylin to pretend to be anything other than what he was.
Sofaltis ..."
"A King's Fighter!" I repeated, my tone causing my
father to flinch even as apology appeared in his eyes. "Not a
Flower but a King's Fighter, and you and Traixe knew it all
along! That line he fed me, about how you were all ready to
sacrifice everything you had and order me not to marry—was
that your idea too, Father? Was I supposed to get so choked
up with gratitude that I went meekly to the slaughter like a
good little lamb? Or maybe I should say blindfolded,
untrustworthy little lamb. How brave and noble of you to
share the truth with me now."
I discovered 1 was on my feet again, tiredness burned away
in the flames of rage. They'd all known, but 1 hadn't been
important enough to share the secret with.
"I didn't keep the truth from you because I didn't trust
you," my father protested, also rising to look down at me. "I
was trying to keep you safe, girl, a desire you'll understand
once you become a parent yourself. And of course he's a
King's Fighter. Did you think I'd choose less than the best
for you? And even above that, he was attracted from the first
minute he saw you. Once you give him a chance ..."
"He'll what?" I snapped, the rage growing so high in me I
was sorry I still wore a sword. "He'll sweep me off my feet,
make me fall madly in love with him, cause me to want to
open my own throat on the altar of expendiency? Well, I'm
sorry to disappoint you, Father, but I'm not in the mood to be
your sacrificial offering. If you want a King's Fighter for an
heir, you can adopt your precious Kylin. Come morning, I'm
heading back to my Company."
I turned away from him, so filled with bitter disappoint-
ment that I couldn't bear it, but his hand came to my shoulder
lo keep me from moving any farther toward my bedchamber.
"Sofaltis, you won't be out of danger until you're mar-
ried," he said, his tone weary but as gentle as the grip that
held me. "I can see now I should have told you what I was
doing just as Traixe urged, but it's too late for second guesses
or regrets. I love you and I'm as proud of you as it's possible
to be, but I can't allow you to refuse the marriage. Even if
the Law did let me abrogate the contract I'd refuse, because I
must see you safe. As soon as Traixe is on his feet you'll be

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER	357
married to Kylin and then he'll be declared my heir, just as
the contract requires. All 1 ask after that is that you give him
a chance to make you happy."
The fingers on my shoulder squeezed just a little and then
they were gone, footsteps taking them to the door and out. 1
stood there for a moment, caught up in a whirlwind of the
vilest emotions, and then 1 put my cup aaide and strode to the
door after him. The argument wasn't over, not by a long
shot, and I wanted my father.to know it. I reached to the latch
and pulled on it then pulled again, but it was no use. My
father had left and 1 was locked in.

Chapter 16
That far underground the stones were damp and green and
slimy, the only light provided by sputtering torches, but none
of the men in the room were overly concerned with their
surroundings. If they had been they would have been more
upset by the smears and small pools of blood, or by the metal
instruments caked a dark, reddish brown. Even the man
strapped to the wooden table wasn't taking notice, but that
might have been because he was now unconscious. Before he'd
fainted, however, he'd been screaming.
"I think I believe him," Traixe grudged from the chair he
sat in, gesturing back the man who stood beside the body on
the table. "If he hasn't told us everything he knows he
probably never will, but I think he has. Doing anything more
to him will be pleasant, but I don't expect it to be productive."
"I agree," Kylin said, brought back to attention by Traixe's
words. After hearing how desperately the enemy had been
trying to get their hands on Sofaltis, his mind had been busy
thanking Evon for letting him get into the castle in time to
keep it from happening again—that or worse. If someone in
the girl's group hadn't been in too much of a hurry to close
the outer tunnel door properly, or if he hadn't had a guide to
lead him to it . . . "At this point he's starting to make things
up, just to avoid the agony. I've seen it happen before."
"Then he doesn't know why Nimram wants Sofaltis,"
Duke Rilfe growled, clearly unhappy. "After his boasting I
was hoping he did, but he was just following orders. Get the
girl no matter what you have to do to accomplish it, and bring
her to me. The tin-bound brass of the bastard!"
"A bastard, yes, but with a bear-trap mind," Kylin said,
358

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER	359
beginning to match the Duke's growl. "Since it would have
been 'rebels' who took your daughter, there would have been
no link whatsoever to him and his priests. If someone found
out he had her, he would claim his people had 'found' and
'rescued' her, which would make them heroes. The only
question left is, what in Evon's brightest hell was he going to
do with her?"
"If we're very, very lucky, we'll never know," Traixe
said, pushing himself to standing with some difficulty. He'd
insisted on being there to direct Fonid's questioning, but the
balance of the night and half a day's rest hadn't really been
enough to restore him to health. "If it's all right with you,
my lords, we can hold the ceremony tomorrow."
"It's fine with me, Traixe, but I can still swing a sword,"
Kylin said, taking care not to glance at Duke Rilfe. "Are you
sure you want to officiate while you can't?"
"If necessary, I'll protect him," the Duke put in in frustra-
tion, then slammed a fist down on the heavy wooden table.
"Evon broil that girl, I'll have her hide if she tries anything
during the ceremony! Did you hear what she did this morning?"
"I heard she sent half a dozen of Traixe's fighters running
to get a locked door between them again," Kylin said, help-
less to keep the grin from his face. "Prancing in with a tray
of food and forgetting she was still armed— Are they usually
that suicidal, or were they just tired from having been up too
long?"
"You're on her side," Traixe observed, as amused as the
pain in his body let him be. "If my lord Duke hadn't locked her
in, you'd be short one bride on your wedding day. Would
that make you happier?"
"The answer to that, my friend, is no," Kylin said with a
laugh as he folded his arms. "If the answer was yes, I would
have already broken her out of there. I am on her side, but if
I let myself admit I know exactly how she feels, I'll lose her.
I'll do my damnedest to make it up to her later—after she's
my wife."
"If she lets you live long enough," Duke Rilfe muttered,
moving closer to Traixe to begin helping him out of the
room. "I never thought I'd see the day I felt sorry for the
man I chose to marry my daughter. If I were you, Kylin,
I'd ..."

360
Sharon Green	*
Kylin let the Duke's voice fade away as he stopped to tell
the Guards outside the door that the broken remains onjhe
table were to be returned to the cell they'd come from. The
Duke could decide later what he wanted done with the traitor,
or Kylin himself would see to it if Duke Rilfe preferred—as
long as it was after the wedding. Until then Kylin was too
distracted with pleasant thoughts, thoughts, centering around
his Tisah. And she was his Tisah, happily and definitely his.
She'd thought he was an enemy and a traitor, and that's why
she'd refused to let herself open to him. Now that she knew
the truth everything in the world would be fine—as soon as
he managed to get her calmed down. She would be safe and
she would be his, and everything in the world would be fine.
He chuckled as he headed for the upper world again, already
beginning to whistle.
Oeran entered Rullin's reception room, unsurprised to find
the other three Blades keeping his old friend company. They
had sitting rooms of their own in the apartments they'd been
given, but they, like he, preferred to congregate where there
was someone to talk to. Not that there was any talking going
on. The small ex-Blade had seen final farewells with more
life than that room showed.
"How's your arm doing, Foist?" he asked as he closed
the door behind him, a little afraid he already knew why the
silence was so thick. "And Ham, what did the healer have to
say about your leg?"
"They're scratches, Oeran, nothing but scratches," Foist
answered as he glanced up, showing the faint, cold smile he
considered warm acknowledgement. "We appreciate your
asking."
"I'm glad to see you four appreciate something," Oeran
commented, moving closer to the chair where Rullin sat. "So
far none of you has gone out of his way to be a very gracious
guest. What's the matter, isn't the cooking and service up to
your standards?"
"Damn it, Oeran, they have her locked up!" Rullin growled,
raising cold eyes to the man he addressed. "Are we supposed
to celebrate the fact that our fifth is a prisoner in her father's
house?"
"Rull, he has the right," Oeran said slowly and distinctly,

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER	361
leaning into the glare he would have preferred backing away
from. "And not only the right, but he'd be crazy if he did
anything else. If the enemy went to such lengths to keep her
from marrying, then marriage is the only thing that can get
her out from under. Would you rather see her captured or
dead?"
"You know we wouldn't," Jak answered, drawing Oeran's
eyes. "We simply feel that there's no reason we couldn't
protect her—until she's ready to marry someone who really
cares about her."
"Damn it, I knew it!" Oeran exploded quietly, taking his
turn at glaring, most especially at Rullin. "When my people
told me you went to her room— Rull, use your head! She's
not only the daughter of a Duke, she's his eldest daughter
with all his sons dead or gone! He needs her to give him a
legitimate heir, and that heir can't be a lovable but familyless
Blade! She's being married to the son of another Duke, who
also happens to be a King's Fighter. If you try stepping into
the middle of that, your hide won't be worth a shaved copper.
It'll be a tossup as to who gets your stones first, the Law or
that bruiser."
"Anytime he feels up to it, he's welcome to try me,"
Rullin answered in a very soft voice, the look in his eyes
bringing Oeran's head up. "I don't give a damn who he is,
Softy doesn't want anything to do with him."
And I'll see to it that he doesn't have anything to do with
her, Rullin thought, his fist clenching where it lay on the arm
of the chair. Twerp might not be the best descriptive word for
someone like that Fighter, but if he tried taking Softy away
the best descriptive word would be dead.
"Can't the rest of you talk any sense into him?" Oeran
demanded, looking around at the others of the Fist. "I'm
willing to bet you're thinking about breaking her out of here,
but don't you see that will just make it harder on her? She
doesn't have a choice about this, something she'll accept as
soon as she calms down—if you four don't try telling her
she's right. She's probably sick over the thought of deserting
you, of never being part of the Fist again. Do you really
intend making it worse for her?"
"Rull, think about what he's saying," Foist advised after a
moment of that heavy silence Oeran had found when he'd

362
Sharon Green	*
first come in. "You told us you asked her to marry you, but
you also admitted she didn't agree in so many words. We'll
go with you to talk to the Duke tomorrow, but if you don't
get anywhere we'll call it off and go and see Softy herself.
We'll all give her a kiss and tell her how much we'll miss
her, and then get her to promise each of us a dance at the
Feasting after the ceremony. Every one of us owes our lives
and more to her, Rull; making her feel better about this is the
least we can do in return."
Rullin put his palm to his mouth and rubbed at his face,
sick himself at the thought of losing the woman he called his
infant female. He had no words to offer back to Foist or
Oeran. He felt too empty, and for the first time he was really
afraid. Would it end with his having to give her up? He knew
he'd never find another like her, not if he lived a thousand
decades, but he also didn't want to give her any more hurt
than she already had. Be a good girl, Softy, he would say,
and let that Duke's son give you the Fist that would have
been ours. Don't think about us, we'll be fine without you.
It's not as if we loved you—
When Rullin rose abruptly and strode out of the room,
none of the men left in it made an attempt to follow. They all
knew why he had left like that, but weren't about to tell him
he was too late. He hadn't left soon enough to keep them
from seeing the glint of weakling tears in his eyes, a glint
more than one of them didn't want to admit he could match.
* * *
I'd spent some time breaking up furniture after getting my
father's note, discreetly pushed under the door rather than
handed to me, but I'd only done it because it was expected of
me. The note had told me that the next day would be my
wedding day whether I liked it or not, and no one with ears in
the entire castle was prepared to believe I would like it. They
were right, of course, but none of them seemed to realize I
usually did something about things I didn't like. What I did
right then was break up some furniture, then take myself into
my bedchamber for a little nap.
I didn't bother getting up again until it was deep night, a
time when even our still-jumpy Guards and fighters would be

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER	363
more relaxed than wide awake. My father had locked me in,
thinking he had me caged until it was time to nail me
permanently to the floor, but there were still some parts of
my childhood he didn't know about. There was a way out of
my apartment other than through the door, and I was just
about ready to use it.
"Many misspent youths turn out to be better spent than we
know," I muttered as I moved around my' bedchamber,
making sure I hadn't left anything I really needed to take with
me. I wore my own black leathers and boots again, and had
found my Company medallion where someone had left it, on
the table beside my bed. The medallion's chain had somehow
been broken, but that didn't make any real difference. I
would have packed it away in my pouch even if it had been
whole, a gesture for my own benefit to finally let myself
know that that part of my life was over. 1 would never be a
Fistmate in a Company again, even if things worked out the
way I intended them to.
"And they'd damned well better work out, or the next time
they catch me they will chain me," 1 muttered, stopping to
look down at the letter I'd written. I'd awakened from sleep
that first night with the perfect solution all ready and waiting
for me to notice it, which I'd done as soon as I'd sat up ready
to start cursing. It was so simple it was beautiful, but it was
also going to be tricky and depended on my getting out of the
castle to begin with. That part, though, shouldn't be anything
like as hard as it sounded, and would sure as hell be satisfy-
ing to the soul.
" 'Dear Father,' " I recited, knowing so well what I'd said in
the letter that I could repeat it by heart. " 'As your loyal and
obedient daughter I would never dream of disobeying you, so
please take this as my full agreement to the marriage you've
arranged for me. I will be delighted to join with the man of
your choice—as soon as I return from a most urgent duty I've
been called away on. I'm certain we all know matters of
honor must come first, even before filial duty, and your
disappointment at the delay is without doubt on the same
scale as mine. I will return as quickly as possible, and until I
do, I remain, your daughter, Sofaltis.' "
"But if I don't get away, I'll be your daughter mud," I
said in a more normal voice, making a face at the letter. My

364
Sharon Green	*
father would explode when he saw it, going up like a volcano
booted from below, and if he got his hands on me too quickly
thereafter I'd be lucky if I lived long enough to be married.
After a good night's sleep it had finally come through to me
that my father did love me and trust me, and had only been
trying to take care of a helpless female with his roundabout
plotting. With that in view I was no longer hurt, only mad as
hell that he thought he could get away with it. I felt almost
honor-bound to prove a very special point, to him and to
everyone else involved, and maybe even to the Law. The
King's Law said I couldn't refuse to marry, so I hadn't; all
I'd done was put it off until I was able to bring home a very
special reason to make it all unnecessary.
"If I can manage to find that reason," I muttered, resting
my hands on my new swordbelt as I looked around again. My
father had given me part of the answer himself, when he'd
mentioned that the betrothal contract called for my "hus-
band" to be named his heir. If one of my brothers suddenly
turned up, the contract would have to be abrogated without
prejudice, and a new contract, if any, entered into. That
much everyone knew about the Law, but I also knew that a
new contract would then be unnecessary—as well as not
terribly desirable on the groom's part. He would still have my
dowry, of course, but even a large dowry isn't the same as a
Dukedom. And I thought I knew which way my brothers had
headed when they'd first left home, something no one else
who had searched for them knew about. They had been
burning to see the eastern mountains, to find out if all the
stories they'd heard were true, and if Evon were even par-
tially on my side I might be able to pick up something of a
trail—
"And then do Kylin out of what he's been promised," I
said, staring down at the floor without seeing it. "You find
the nicest ways to thank people for saving your life. He's
certain to be grateful to you forever."
Or at least until I got back with one or both of my brothers
in tow. It wasn't that I didn't want him to be my father's heir;
he was certainly decent enough, it was just that I was so
horribly caught up in the middle that there was no other
way—
No other way to avoid marrying him. Another aim guaran-

LADY BLADE, LORD FIGHTER	365
teed to make him feel really special. And he'd been trying so
hard to set things right between us, even while I did every-
thing I could to ruin them. He'd never understand that it
wasn't him I was trying to avoid—
"Don't say it," I warned myself aloud, one hand firmly
over my eyes. "Don't start telling yourself how it might not
be all that bad with him, or your point's, lost and so is your
future self-respect. All three of them lied to you, your father,
Traixe and him, trying to trick you into something you
wanted no part of. Are you going to let them get away with
it, or are you going to show them how the game's really
played? If they're free to use the Law against you, are you
any less free to use it against them? If you're ready to give up
without a fight, just say yes."
No, that was one thing I couldn't do. I took my hand away
from my eyes as I straightened with a sigh, knowing I'd
never be able to live with myself afterward if I simply gave in
and let it happen. I would prove to them all that the choice
was mine—whether they liked it or not.
I laughed shortly, knowing exactly how well they'd like it,
but my decision was made. I had a window-slit waiting to act
as my means of egress, and it had waited long enough. I'd
used that way out of my apartment more than a few times as a
child, and when I'd tried it again the night before I'd found
that I could still just squeeze through. My gear couldn't go
with me but my weapons could, and straight down below past
an easily-climbed wall of carved building stones was a night-
deserted courtyard. From that courtyard I could slip into the
stables which, with the number of men down from the hard
confinement and the fighting afterward, weren't being guarded.
Once I had Bloodsheen saddled we would use the stables
tunnel to leave the castle, and when the sun rose on my
wedding day, that bunch of conspirators would find they were
missing something.
I walked over to the window-slit and brushed the wall
drape aside, but refused to ask myself what / would be
missing. Just then I knew exactly what it would be, and 1
wasn't anywhere near up to facing it. Facing him. Kylin, the
man I was supposed to marry. After everything I'd said and
done to him, after all the times I'd hurt him, how could I
just—go on with things as if they had never happened? The

366
Sharon Green	*
simple answer was I couldn't, and if that made me a coward
then I accepted the calling without argument. I didn't have
the courage to face him let alone marry him, and I knew that
what had happened was primarily my fault even though I'd
had help making such a mess of things. If they'd just been
honest with me, if they'd simply asked—
But they hadn't been honest and they hadn't asked, :&hich
left me no choice in what I had to do. I would go searching
for my brothers—and do something else I knew I should
remember but couldn't bring to mind—and would try to make
it all come out right. Once 1 got back I could think about
offering apologies that would probably never be accepted, but
until then—

DAW
MAGiC TALES FROM THE MASTERS QF FANTASY
□		MARION ZIMMER BRADLEY, Lythande(U£2154—$3.50)
□		LIN CARTER, Mandrlcardo	(UE2180—$2.95)
□		C.J. CHERRYH, The Dreamstone (UE2013~$2.95)
The Tree of Swords and
Jewels	(UE1850-—$2.95)
□		JO CLAYTON, Drinker of Souls	(UE2123—$3.50)
□		B.W. CLOUGH, The Dragon of Mlshbil (UE2078—$2.95)
□		SHARON GREEN, The Far Side of Forever
(UE2212—$3.50)
□		MERCEDES LACKEY, Arrows of the
Queen	(UE2189—$2.95)
Arrow's Flight (UE2222—$3.50)
□		MICHAEL MOORCOCK, Ek\c at the End of Time
(UE2228—<$3.50)
□		PETER MORWOOD, The Horse Lord (UE2178—$3.50)
The Demon Lord (UE22G4—$3.50)
□		ANDRE NORTON, Spell of the Witch World
(UE2242—$3.50)
□		JENNIFER ROBERSON, Sword-Dancer (UE2152—$3.50)
□		MICHAEL SHEA, Nlfft the Lean	(UE1783—$2.95)
□		TAD WILLIAMS, Tailchaser's Song (UE2162—$3.95)
Write for free DAW catalog of hundreds of other titles!
(Prices slightly higher in Canada.)
NEW AMERICAN LIBRARY
P.O. Box 999, Bergenfield, New Jersey 07621
Please send me the 0AW BOOKS I have checked above. I am enclosing $	
(check or money order—no currency or C.O.D.'s). Please include the list price plus
$1.00 per order to cover handling costs Prices and numbers are subject to change
without notice.
Name	
Address		_
City
	State	Zip
Please allow 4-6 weeks for delivery.

DAW
THE ATLAN SAGA
By Jane Gaskell
THE SERPENT—In the time-lost world of prehistory, the girl
Cija is born to inherit a varied destiny: princess and camp
follower, scullion and empress, slave, cook, and warrior.
□		UE1990 $2.95
THE DRAGON—They called him the Dragon, that blue-skinned
semi-human named Zerd, who was now preparing his legions
to conquer Atlan, the fabled city beyond the horizon.
□		UE2021 $2.95
ATLAN—A Goddess— so Cija believed herself to be . . .A
Hostage— Delivered over to the great Dragon-General Zerd . ..
A Fugitive— Fleeing from Zerd's clutches with the help of her
lover. . . An Empress—Wedded to Zerd, conqueror and lord in
the fabled land of Atlan. ...	□ UE2049 $3.50
THE CITY—General's Bride, Empress of North and South and
Atlantis-across-the-Ocean, Cija returns to the City of her birth,
the city ruled by her Mother, and the High priest who fathered
her, and must now surely kill her, the living proof of his betrayal
of his vows of lifelong celibacy.	□ UE2085 $3.50
SOME SUMMER LANDS—Seka, daughter of Cija and the
Dragon Lord, becomes the ultimate key to Atlan's survival—
or doom. ...	□UE2114$3.50
NEW AMERICAN LIBRARY
P.O. Box 999, Bergenfield, New Jersey 07621
Please send me the DAW BOOKS I have checked above. I am enclosing $	
(check or money order—no currency or C.O.D.'s). Please include the list price plus
$1.00 per order to cover handling costs. Prices and numbers are subject to change
without notice-.
Name	.
Address	;		
City
	State	Zip
Please allow 4-6 weeks for delivery.