by Mind Guest
through their line without alerting the whole pack of them, which would have been easier if I'd had a few more hours of sleep behind me. I
wasn't quite at the stumbling stage yet, but if I'd been fresher I
could have taken a string of vair through their line, not just the one
I was thinking about.
Three vair stood tied in front of a small, dark-colored tent, all
saddled and probably fresh enough to keep going most of the night. I
hadn't tried for one of them yet even though I'd been close enough to
make the try for a couple of minutes; those vair looked too handy, and
I was wondering if they were there to attract any slave who managed to
break loose. Walking into a trap isn't smart unless you know you can
spring it without getting your foot caught, and something about the
vair just didn't seem right. I stirred impatiently where I crouched
behind some bushes, knowing it would be stupid not to take the time to
figure out exactly what was wrong, but also knowing that I didn't have
the time to spend on something like that. I either had to try for the
vair or go through the line on foot, but whichever I did, it would have
to be done fast.
I had just about decided to try for the vair anyway when I suddenly
realized that the perimeter was under attack. Without undue noise a
large group of men were suddenly appearing beside and behind the
guards, and I wasn't the only one slow on the uptake. The newcomers had
been so casual about their approach that the guards didn't know they
were being attacked until the bodies started hitting the ground. It
would have been nice if it could have kept on until all the guards were
done, but professionals don't stay frozen in shock very long. Someone
yelled, swords scraped hastily from scabbards, emergency torches
flared, and the fight was on.
I watched swords swinging back and forth for a minute, then rose slowly
to my feet behind the bush I'd crouched near. The added torchlight
showed that the attackers were wearing bright red shirts and light-blue
neck scarves, and once I'd seen that, picking Fallan out wasn't hard.
The idiot had brought his company to free the Princess Bellna, the
charge they were sworn to protect, not knowing their charge had already
managed to free herself. It was bad luck of the worst sort that they
had chosen to break in on the very spot I'd chosen to break out, but
that just proved I wasn't the only one to see the possibilities of the
place. I could have used the distraction to get clear without worrying
about anyone seeing me except for the fact that those men were there to
rescue me. If I simply walked away they would be throwing away their
lives to no purpose, especially when they tried plowing through the
center of the camp. I wanted to be out of there, damn it, but now I had
something else to do.
I unsheathed my sword and walked out of the shadows toward the fracas,
heading in the general direction of Fallan. Bellna was wild with the
thought of being near him again, but my mood was too foul for her to
have a chance at taking over. I would show Fallan I was free and then
take off, and lord help anyone who tried to get in my way that time.
Some idiot guardsman backed from a mercenary he and two of his friends
were trying to take out, glanced at me, then did a double-take. The
dark gold shirt I wore would have been enough to make him ignore me,
except that the added torchlight also showed him my long red hair and
bare feet. It took him only seconds to realize that I had to be an
escaping slave, and then he came at me as though I were completely
unarmed.
Slaver mentality being what it is, I didn't bother warning my abrupt
opponent. If the weapon I carried didn't impress him, maybe what I did
with it would. As soon as he got close enough he swung his blade at mine with a good deal of muscle backing the swing, obviously intending
to disarm me before we went any farther. I flicked my blade up and then
down fast, missing the strike he'd planned but not missing his wrist.
He howled as the point of my sword released a thick line of blood just
above the back of his hand, but he wasn't bright enough to realize that
the wound he'd taken had just lost him the fight. He slashed hard in
the back swing, his flaring temper making him forget that he had set
out to disarm me, and it wasn't hard ringing his blade with nine and
helping the attack past me.
Anger brought three more fast attacks that I either slipped or blocked,
and then the guard became aware of how much pain he was in. We weren't
fencing with small, nearly weightless foils, we were using the doubleedged
and pointed Narellan blades that demand a strong wrist and arm.
The guard's arm was fine, but the nick I'd given his wrist not only
drained his strength, it also gave him considerable pain every time he
tried to move that brand around. His face was pale and sweat-covered in
the glaring, jumping torchlight, and he cast a quick glance toward the
center of the camp, but didn't see what he was hoping for. The clash of
blades and cursing of men was noisy enough under most circumstances,
but with the uproar being made by the customers in the main tents, it
wasn't likely that reinforcements would notice the attack soon enough
to come running with support. The guard's jaw tightened with grim
decision, his fist tightened on his hilt despite the pain, and he came
at me with a last, all-out attack that was the only hope he had.
Of course, the poor fool didn't stand a chance of reaching me. He had
the brawny build that slash-and-stab fighting requires, but I was
faster and had the benefit of a superior technique to back up that
speed. I dodged his first two attacks, parried his next three, then
beat his blade aside and buried mine in his middle.
In spite of everything he still looked stunned, and then he was sliding
to his knees, on his way to the ground. I pulled my blade free, swiped
it nearly clean on the back of his shirt, then continued on in the
direction I'd been going.
I had to fight three or four more times before I reached Fallan, the
last time more or less taking over someone else's fight. I turned from
spitting my own final opponent to see Ralnor, Fallan's lieutenant,
gawping at me with his mouth open and his point down. His incredulous
expression said he was sure he was dreaming but didn't know how to wake
up, and the guard with the bloody sword coming at him from behind just
about guaranteed he never would wake up again. I jumped past Ralnor,
parried the guard's strike and wiped him fast, then turned to the
shaken lieutenant.
"Only a fool allows himself to be distracted during battle,
Lieutenant," I purred, glancing away from him only long enough to wipe
my blade. "Has something disturbed you?"
"No more than the truth that we are all fools," Ralnor muttered, wiping
at his face with his free hand. "We come to rescue one who fights like
the goddess of death, and end being rescued by her for whom we came.
The situation is somewhat demoralizing, yet do I thank you for my
>
life."
"You are quite welcome, Lieutenant," I answered soberly, letting my
eyes continue to move all around.
"Ever have I considered the thought more commendable than the deed, and
the thought evinced by you and these others has earned my gratitude. I
shall not forget."
Ralnor opened his mouth to say something else, an oddly friendly
expression on his face, but the words never got said. The mighty Fallan, terror of brigands and slavers, finally got himself free long
enough to notice who was standing near him.
"What do you do here, in the midst of battle, girl?" he suddenly
demanded, shouldering Ralnor aside so that he could glare down at me
with his dripping sword in his hand. "Do you seek an end to your life?
Do you not know that these are men you raise weapon to? Take yourself
to a place behind me and remain there, else I shall. . ."
"Captain!" Ralnor screamed, and Fallan whirled around and brought his
sword up fast enough to keep his backbone from being separated. Three
guards had attacked at once, and Ralnor moved fast to draw away at
least one of the blades from his captain. I'd seen the three attackers
a few seconds before Ralnor had, but Fallan's lecture had convinced me
that I had no business interfering. After all, those were men, and I
was nothing but a little girl who needed to be protected from them. I
watched the fight for about five seconds, then I decided that my duty
was done and turned away and headed for those vair.
I had to stop for two brief encounters before I reached the vair, and
by that time I'd decided against them. The guards were taking a lot of
losses, but not one of them had tried for a vair to take him out of the
slaughter and away for help. There was also a dim light burning inside
the tent the vair stood in front of, but no one had come out even after
the battle had gotten into full swing. The whole set-up screamed trap,
and I'd rather be afoot and safely clear than mounted and in trouble. I
was more than willing to skirt the entire area, but pausing to help out
one of the mercenaries who faced two opponents put me right near the
tent, and when I stepped away from the now equalized fight, I suddenly
found myself in an unequal fight of my own. Two golden-shirts jumped
out of the tent with swords in their hands, their bulk blocking my path
around it.
"See the silly little slave," said one to the other, gesturing toward
me with his blade. "She takes the trappings of one slain in battle, and
foolishly thinks herself free and a warrior queen. Did I not say we
would be best off avoiding the battle, so that we might recapture the
object of this attack?"
"You did indeed say that very thing," agreed the second, showing a
grin. "And now that we have her, we must return her."
The last words spoken must have been a signal; the two came at me
together, swords swinging in the sort of silliness that most people
consider swashbuckling sword-play. If there had been only one of them
he would have been dead before he finished the swash, but with two
swinging away like that I needed more room; it's downright demeaning to
get killed by that sort of charge. I jumped back to give myself
counterattack room, not realizing the vair were that close and crashed
right into one of them. My back and shoulder hit the stirrup and pad
and I staggered, but even the sharp stab I felt in my shoulder didn't
make me go down. I tightened my grip on my hilt and started my
counterattack, silently thanking the Lord of Luck, but he'd left for
another lunch break and I hadn't even noticed. A leadenness flared into
being in my shoulder and spread like an oil fire all through me, and
the last thing I knew was dropping my sword and falling toward my two
erstwhile opponents.
Chapter 7
It took a long time to figure out I'd been drugged; understanding how
was completely beyond me. They never let me come all the way out of it,
so all I got was bits and snatches of reality all wrapped around with floating gray unconsciousness. The first bit after my almost-fight with
the golden-shirts was lying in the darkness, chained again and wearing
one of those slave shifts: I stirred as my body began fighting off the
effects of the drug, and then there was an arm around my shoulders. I
was raised up, and a metal cup was put to my lips I had enough time to
realize that the darkness came from the cloth around my eyes, and then
I was swallowing the sweet liquid being poured in my mouth. Two
swallows, three and then nothing. The next time I was aware of motion,
and three or four times after that as well, and then came a time when
the motion stopped. I was given no more than a single swallow of the
sweet liquid, and though my head whirled I didn't fall back into a
world of gray. I felt myseff being lifted down from something and
carried, and then transferred to another pair of arms.
"She is now the property of your master, came a voice I didn't know,
and hands fumbled at the cloth over my eyes, then pulled it away. "As
you see, she is the one contracted for."
The small stone room we stood in was dim compared to the bright dayglow
coming in through the still-open door. I tried to turn my head
away from the glow, but a big hand came to my face and turned it back
again.
"She is indeed the one," said a voice I might have heard once or twice
before. "Why does she seem so strange?"
"It is merely the travel potion given her," said the first voice. "She
is aware of that which occurs about her, yet is she beyond being upset
by it. The potion also raises her receptivity, there are few of our
clients who object to its use."
"Indeed?" said the second voice, and the hand left my face to move
under the slave shift. Waves of fire flashed through my body at the
brief probing touch, and I moaned and writhed in the arms that held me.
"Excellent!" the voice laughed. "Truly excellent! I must have some of
that potion."
"What is here is yours, Lord," said the first voice, oily with
satisfaction. "She must be given it each time she appears to be
rallying from the previous dose, else it will lose its effectiveness."
"Your instructions will be followed," the second voice said. "You may
now take your leave."
I heard a rattle and a very pleased, "Thank you, Lord!" but I was
already being carried away. The stone room had winding stone steps, and
I was carried up and up in a circle until we reached the top and a
door. The door was opened and I was carried inside, then through room
after room of 'beautiful furnishings and a vast display of wealth. A
small, distant voice inside my head was beginning to cry hysterically,
but nothing meant anything to me, nothing mattered. The only thing that
seemed to matter was the way the second voice had touched me; I wanted
more, a lot more, but whimpering and squirming weren't getting it for
me.
"Is this she, master?" a female voice asked, and I realized that we'd
come to a stop.
"Yes, this is she," said the seco
nd voice, still with us even though
I'd thought we'd left him behind somewhere. "The master means to visit
with her as soon as he may, therefore is she to be prepared against his
arrival."
"It appears her preparation has already been begun," said the female
voice. "See how she moves."
"She has been given a potion," said the second voice. "Should she do
well under this potion, the master may give it to any slave who does
not please him as she is. Are there slaves about who require such a potion?"
"No, master!" came a chorus of female answers, all sounding eager to
please.
"Very well, then," said the second voice. "See to this slave."
I was put down on something very soft, and it seemed as though a number
of presences left. I couldn't seem to focus on the faces of anyone
around me, and even the walls and furniture turned wavery when I tried
to concentrate on them. None of that bothered me, of course, only my
need to be seen to. My body moved of its own accord on whatever I lay
on, and I whimpered again.
"The slave child asks to be touched," came a sleek, superior-sounding
female voice. "I believe I will be the one to touch her."
"Now?" asked another, sounding a good deal younger. "The master may not
arrive for some time, and the child is already in need."
"When the master arrives, she will be screaming to please him," the
sleek-voice answered. "The master will be pleased, and it will have
been I who assured his pleasure. Take yourself elsewhere, slaves, and
seek in vain to please him as much as I will have done."
Sleek-voice laughed then, and after a minute I knew she had moved
nearer to me. I had no idea what would happen until she touched me, and
then I gasped and nearly choked.
"All slaves know that the master's touch is ever most welcome," sleekvoice
purred in my ear. "And yet it needs a woman to know best the
weaknesses of another woman. To be touched in this manner is more than
I am able to bear, slave child. How do you find it?"
If I'd been able to speak, I wouldn't have been able to speak; the
woman's logic was faultless. I spent a timeless time writhing and
trying to escape, helpless to help myself, and then a new voice
interrupted.
"What do you do here, slave?" the male voice demanded, a voice I seemed