by Sharon Green
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 stubborn 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?" 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 escorted 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, 'lone 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 I 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?"
"Anyone 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 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, 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 the conversation to contribute 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, his 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.
* * *
Duke Rilfe of the House of Kienne of the Duchy of Gensea had barely reached his apartment when a knock came at the door. He turned with the cup of mulled wine in his hand to see 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 the appearance of any of the duke's advisors, but just at this moment the duke was particularly pleased with the custom.
"Traixe, she's here!" Rilfe 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 feasting. I've had word that Trame's son should also be here soon, so this madness might work out after all. Sofaltis's 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, something 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?" Rilfe 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?" Rilfe 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 unchan
ged," Traixe murmured, his expression one of a man choosing his words carefully. "Possibly Your Grace 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," Rilfe said with narrowed eyes, sipping at his wine without moving his gaze from the other man. "Not only are you giving me extreme courtesy 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 compassion in his eyes, causing Rilfe 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 this way… Come to think of it, the time before Sofaltis had been sent north…
"Out with it, old friend," Rilfe 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. "I 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 his duke to pick up the new topic thread he'd dangled, but Rilfe 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 Illi is a believer in training whatever true talent a child has," he said with a sigh of resignation. "Sofaltis has spent the last decade having her talent trained, and is now a Fistmate Blade of the best Sword Company in the north."
Rilfe continued to stand unspeaking, no sign of expression 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 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. "In another way, however, 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," 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 the news 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?" Rilfe growled, nearly choking on the wine he'd been swallowing. "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," Rilfe 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 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?" Rilfe demanded in such a roar that Traixe winced. The reaction distantly told Rilfe that Traixe was probably worried 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 as Rilfe strode to his unlit hearth and then returned. "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?"
Rilfe's anger had turned to sour dissatisfaction, and Traixe grinned as he realized they were now over the worst of it.
"Too late by a decade or more," Traixe said, obviously also knowing that 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 the weapon 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," Rilfe said in a fittingly low tone, gesturing his friend with him to the chairs 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. 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, Rilfe thought, then shook his head in annoyance.
"You hadn't planned to tell her what the young man is really like, but now you can't afford not to," Traixe finally 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," Rilfe 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 can't tell her, Traixe!"
"But why not?" the other man asked, his confusion obvious. "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?" Rilfe interrupte
d, 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 convincing 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 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," Rilfe finished for him, accepting 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. "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," Rilfe 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 notice 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 as Duke Rilfe sat back looking unconcerned, but a Blade?