by Sharon Green
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, important 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 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 I 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 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, masculine Blades out there to protect me, how might I be anything else?"
By that time I was out the door, which meant the innkeeper'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 keep 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 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 I 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 were 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 now, 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 were 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.
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 I 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 now, and I 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 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 now 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 paralleling 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 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 somehow 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 now 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.
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 showing snow-like in the sunlight. The woman wore a day-gown of gold that companioned better with the seventh man's clothing 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 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 t
hem 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 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.