"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 1 did, but if he refused to obey the commands he'd been given she would have no chance at all. He glanced around at
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the six men staring at him, all of whom were taller and larger than he, and then his hands began rising slowly to his swordbett. In another minute he would be disarmed, but I'd decided not to give that confrontation another minute.
There are certain limes 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 happily and eagerly forward, the sound of my ear-splitting whistle 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 frightened 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
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middle of him. His backswing 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 whistled 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, 1 do," he answered, his dark eyes going suddenly cold. "A—certain group of people decided I was in their way, that as long as 1 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
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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 Even's glowing hilt, young Blade, you have, as I said, my deepest gratitude. If 1 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 1 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 muttering 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
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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 differ
ent, 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 heeis 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 bag of 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
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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 I 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 I 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 worried 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
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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.
"I'll 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?" 1 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 men 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.
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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 'imfast, so the lady c'n go inside."
The servant looked the least bit indignant over being ordered 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 backtafk. 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
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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 reappearance of the Guardsman he'd sent 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, 1 got gate duty waitin'."
With that he stomped away, undoubtedly planning on chewing 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 amusement as possible on the inside. "You might want to ask the sergeant his opinion."
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