by Sharon Green
"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 I 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 answered, 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 ceremony 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 his concealed grin undoubtedly for the sourness in Traixe's own expression. "Once I'm her husband I 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 I 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, brightening a bit as he shifted in his chair. "The duke was right in his opinion of the girl's sense of duty and honor. When I 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 the marriage, 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 immediately rid him of all amusement. "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 I 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 obvious defeat. "Which would give 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 that end result. 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 back-stabber she would have taken the opening, but she simply let it pass. How can I go on back-stabbing 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 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 inexperienced 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 he 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 battlements. It was still too early for any night-guards to have been posted, so I had all the shadows to myself. I wandered around 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 beside, 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 here all that long, but it was time I 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 this 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 immediately 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 h
our 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 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's 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 the dagger 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 girl 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 torchlight. "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. Kylin had 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, apparently not entirely certain he ought to be answering like that, but obviously needing to do something with those light eyes on him. "We found the medallion there, 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, Your Grace, 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, clearly seeking assurance and not argument. "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 mysteriously 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 the words 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, apparently 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 everyone 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 the medallion 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 willingly, 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, looking around again. "Since the chain was broken and we can 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 muttered, beginning to prowl around the area. He was so intent, Traixe realized, that 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 seemed no longer at all eager to test the contention. The way he moved and spoke - and the expression 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 followed 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 now 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 Southwest. 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 the 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 suddenly, 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's medallion and order his men to a complete search of the castle, and then he had joined them. So as not to miss what young Kylin has in mind, Rilfe 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 to see the fool Kylin and remember Kylin the King's Fighter, but the fool was gone now and the King's Fighter had taken over. Kylin had been right to drop the pretense, and the results of his actions would prove if he was right to assume command. At another time Rilfe would have resented so peremptory a takeover, but right now he was too weary and heartsick.
Rilfe's guests had all retired to their accommodations out of respect for their host's distress, which meant 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 otherwise have been true. His grief was already beginning to turn to outrage and fury, burning away the debilitation weighing heavily on his mind.