by T. H. Lain
Naull felt the heat of a tear in the corner of her eye and she took a deep breath.
"Naull?"
"It won't be you?" she asked. "Are you sure? Can you be sure? He might have made his decision."
Regdar's hand dropped away from her hair and he took a step back from her. Despite herself, she turned to look at him but saw only his strong back.
"He could give you an order," she said. "Lord Constable, or common foot soldier, could you deny him his chosen successor?"
Regdar turned and Naull was taken aback by the smile on his face. There was no doubt there, as there seldom was. In his eyes she saw the same lack of subterfuge and guile, the same simple honor and truth that made him who he was, that made him the man she loved.
"I have sworn to follow the duke's orders," he said, "even unto my own death, but...."
Naull shook her head and wiped away a tear with her fingertip. She stood and stepped into his warm, strong embrace. His arms folded around her and her body felt at once weak and strong, vulnerable and safe. She breathed him in.
"What do I want you to say?" she asked, trying not to cry. "I want you to say you love me. I want you to say you will marry me. I want you to say that you'll stay with me every day for the rest of our lives."
She felt him sigh, in his chest and in the breeze of his breath against her hair. He took a breath to speak and she felt that too, then felt his body stop all at once, become rigid and alert.
It wasn't the reaction she'd hoped for. When she stepped away from him, he let her go. She looked up and saw his face turned to one side, his head cocked, his mouth open. Naull's blood went cold.
"What is it?" she whispered, instantly bringing to mind a spell.
He held up a finger to quiet her and shook his head.
He was looking at the doors to their private veranda. The floor-to-ceiling doors were divided into panes of glass, any one of which was too small for a human to climb through. Sheer draperies covered them, letting in only enough of the street lamps' light to let them know the sun had set. None of the sounds of the busy street below were audible.
"Is someone out there?" she whispered.
Naull scanned the draperies and saw no shadows behind them. Anyone on the veranda would be visible in silhouette. No one was there.
The sound of steel sliding on steel startled her and she whirled to see Regdar holding his sword, its enchanted, razor-sharp blade glowing in the room's soft light. He crossed to the windows, his steps all but silent, unlike only moments before. When he was close enough to touch the draperies, he slipped one edge an inch to the side and peered out. She could tell he saw nothing, at least not right away.
Naull heard a scuffling sound at the same time Regdar did. The fighter stepped back as he let go of the drape. When the sound came again, Naull thought it might be a shoe slipping on stone. It definitely came from outside the window. The spell she'd brought to mind was among her most potent. If necessary she could erect an enchanted wall made from nothing but the invisible wind, which would protect them both from the intruder at least long enough to determine who or what it was. She tried not to think about the damage the wind would do to their beautiful room.
Realizing that the wind wall could just as easily blow Regdar off his feet if he was in the wrong place at the wrong time, Naull padded closer to him. As she moved, and the still air of the room ruffled her silk chemise across her skin, Naull felt all the more vulnerable. She had never worn armor and was more comfortable in light attire than Regdar had become, but if she was going to fight for her life, she wanted to at least be dressed.
Regdar saw her approaching, and he held out his free hand to stop her. She touched the elbow of his sword arm. When he glanced at her she jerked her head back once and whispered, "Back up."
He narrowed his eyes at her, confused and impatient. In response, Naull wiggled her fingers and arched an eyebrow. The crude, improvised sign language registered on Regdar quickly enough and he stepped back. Just then, a shadow slid across the draperies.
The intruder appeared human enough, but the shadow's size could have been exaggerated by the light. The thing could have been the size of a halfling or a stone giant.
Naull stepped in front of Regdar and brought her hands up, twisting the fingers of her left hand into the spell's first position while her right hand reached for—
She didn't have her pouches. She didn't have the material component for the spell.
The shadow moved to the door. Naull could sense Regdar's huge sword in the ready position behind her. She turned, held one finger up to stop him, and took three fast, long strides to the nightstand.
The polished brass door handle turned slowly just as Naull's fingers found the right pouch and reached inside. There was a barely audible click as the door unlatched. Naull's hand wrapped around a feather and a miniature silk fan no longer than her little finger.
The door moved, a torturously slow quarter of an inch at a time, as Naull began casting the spell. She tried to whisper but the intruder must have heard her, or perhaps sensed the growing magic in the air of the room. The door stopped opening but made no move to close.
Warm air washed over Naull as she completed the spell, and she had to close her eyes against the blast. When she felt her chemise flip up over her face she was momentarily embarrassed, but quickly regained her wits. She stepped back, keeping one forearm over her eyes. The sound of the wind in the confined space was deafening but in a few steps she could at least see again.
The door to the veranda blew open, revealing a young woman struggling with her own wildly uncontrolled clothing. One of the glass panes shattered and the woman shrieked, ducking away and losing her footing in the gale. Regdar dashed forward, and Naull saw that he no longer held his sword. Her skin crawled with fear when she realized what would happen if he'd dropped the sword in the swirling wind. The blade would become a whirling, wind-driven, razor-sharp menace, chopping down anything unfortunate enough to cross its unpredictable path.
"Regdar!" Naull screamed into the wind wall. "No!"
He was forcing his way into the wind, bending low and pushing through the wall. Naull knew he was strong but she hadn't imagined he was that strong. He was passing through the wall of air, reaching out for the woman. The intruder was in serious danger of falling off the veranda and suffering the fifty-foot drop to the lamplit street below. Naull wasn't entirely certain why Regdar wanted to prevent that
"Regdar!" she screamed again.
Just below the roar of the wind, Naull could hear a woman scream. Regdar reached the doorframe and held on tightly, still reaching with his other hand for the woman on the veranda. He turned to Naull and shouted something that she couldn't hear. She would have read his lips, or tried to, at least, had her chemise not blown up into her face again, leaving her blind and naked from the waist down. She struggled to pull the silk away from her face but the wind and her own panic made her tug too hard. She heard something tear and felt the garment shift to one side. The material came away from her face in time for Naull to see Regdar pulling the strange woman into the room.
Naull searched her mind for a useful spell but there was little left after the examination of the crime scene. She hadn't planned her day with the expectation of fighting off intruders in what was supposed to be the most secure inn in the duchy.
Regdar and the woman fell hard onto the marble floor, and Naull's chemise blew up in her face again. She could hear Regdar shouting but couldn't understand him. She grabbed at the silk in front of her face.
"—that damn thing stop!" Regdar shouted, his voice echoing in the suddenly quiet, still air.
The wind blew itself out all at once and Naull was left standing with her chemise over her head. She felt her entire, largely exposed body blush as she fumbled with the twisted material. When the garment finally came away from her face, Naull could see Regdar sitting on the floor next to the young woman, whose own skirt had blown scandalously high up her thin, milk-white thighs.
Naull took a deep breath, then felt a chill. Regdar looked up at her and stifled a laugh, his own face turning red. When Naull looked down she realized that the tearing sound had been one of the thin straps of her chemise ripping away. One side of the neckline sagged far enough to reveal what it was intended to hide.
Naull drew the silk over her breast and said, "I..."
Regdar looked down at the young woman, who was straightening her own garments and breathing heavily. She was beautiful, young, and dressed in fine clothing that was no less attractive for its windblown condition. Her long, blond hair was almost playfully in disarray, a gentle curl falling over her alabaster face, caught up in a diadem knocked askew across her forehead.
Regdar stood, showing an uncharacteristic lack of dexterity, and almost fell on the confused, frightened girl. He reached out and helped her to her feet, quickly withdrawing from her as she shuffled backward toward the door. Her sandaled feet crunched broken glass on the marble.
The girl looked as if she was going to say something but she yelped and jumped back when Regdar's greatsword clattered onto the floor at her feet.
"Naull," Regdar said, his face red, sweaty, and confused, "may I present the duke's daughter, the Lady Maelani."
Naull froze, unable to breathe, think, or move.
Maelani didn't seem any less surprised to see her.
"Are you...?" Maelani said, her voice shaking along with the rest of her. "I mean, is she...? Are you and...?"
Naull stepped closer, still holding her chemise up with one hand, and said, "Why are...? Where did...?"
"Is this...?" Maelani said, looking back and forth between Regdar and Naull. "Are you two...?"
"Does anyone...?" Naull pressed on, wholly unable to synch her mouth with her mind. "Did you...?"
"Please," Regdar cut in, "I think..."
"No, it's..." Maelani replied.
"It's not..." said Naull.
"I mean..." Regdar started.
If Naull could have ever imagined an instance in which she'd be happy to have a huge bed flip up off the floor and smash into her back, driving her face-first onto a hard, cold marble floor, this might have been it.
She was unconscious before she knew for sure.
His fighter's instincts took over. Regdar reached out to pull Maelani safely behind him the second the bed came off the floor. Something pushed it up, flipped it over, and took Naull down with it.
Maelani was more fleet of foot than Regdar expected, though, and she flinched just out of his reach. Regdar extended his arm a little too far so that when the edge of the mattress came down on him, his effort to dodge out of the way only sent him sprawling onto the hard, cold floor.
Maelani screamed, and Regdar grunted. There was a loud noise like a door slamming and a deafening rustle of fabric. Regdar saw his sword still on the floor, just within reach, and the backs of Maelani's heels as she scrambled toward the veranda. A heavy blanket and a satin sheet fell over him, blocking his sight, but his hand came down on the hilt of his sword just the same.
A tremendous noise made the floor shake beneath him. Regdar spun on his backside to bring his sword up into a guarding position. He was still under the heavy bedcovers, though, and the fabric twisted around his blade and pressed down against the top of his head as if something heavy held it down.
Maelani screamed again and Regdar heard fabric tear. Through the tight weave of the bedcovers he could see nothing. He scrabbled backward, trying to get out from under the covers and onto his feet at the same time.
He heard Maelani's grunt and the peculiar sound of a body hitting the floor. Regdar growled in frustration as the floor shook again. The bedcovers slipped away and he sensed something coming toward him, something too big to be either Maelani or Naull. Despite years of training to choose his targets carefully, Regdar thrust his greatsword blindly out in front of him.
The tip of the strong, thick blade met resistance. The sword's point tore through the bedcovers and caught on something. There was a scream of metal on metal, and whatever Regdar hit flinched slightly, rolling with the thrust. The blade caught again and Regdar pressed hard, hoping he'd found a space in his unseen opponent's armor. There was a snapping sound and the heavy thing fell away. The sudden release of energy made Regdar lurch forward. He almost succeeded in pushing his own face onto his razor-sharp blade and had to flip himself back equally as violently to avoid it.
There was no tension on the bedcovers. Regdar scrambled to untangle himself, pulling with short jerks in one direction, amazed at how huge an expanse of fabric he was confronted with. He heard a woman moan—it was Maelani—and the sound of something heavy being dragged across the floor.
"Stop!" Regdar shouted, thinking that someone or something was dragging Maelani away.
When the duke's daughter moaned again, from the same place, Regdar knew that wasn't true. He heard a door slam and something heavy and soft sliding across the floor.
The bedcovers finally came off and Regdar grunted, "Damn."
Whatever he'd stabbed was gone. The bed was upside down, but had been slid to one side. He could see the back of Naull's head and her naked back, but the rest of her was still under the bed.
"What...?" Maelani said, and Regdar looked at her.
She was sitting on the floor. Her hair and clothes puffed around her so that she looked both ridiculous and pitiful.
"What was that?" she asked.
"Did you see it?" Regdar asked, crossing to Naull and kneeling next to her.
Maelani shook her head, a tear rolling down one cheek.
"Naull," Regdar whispered.
The young wizard rolled her head to one side and Regdar could see her right eye and the curve of her nose. She blinked and looked up at him.
"Naull?" he prompted again.
"What," she replied, "in the Sand Tombs of Payratheon was that?"
Regdar didn't understand the reference, but was happy to see she was alive. His reply was interrupted by the approaching rumble of what must have been dozens of booted feet.
"Regdar?" Maelani asked, her voice still weak, distant.
He looked at the duke's daughter, sitting there on the floor with her skirts splayed around her, and he swallowed with a dry throat. Regdar could see little reason to believe that anyone knew Maelani had come to visit him. The daughter of the duke of Koratia doesn't go anywhere unannounced, and she sure as the Abyss didn't climb up someone's veranda in the middle of the night unless—
The footsteps were almost at the door when Regdar let his sword clatter to the floor next to Naull. He leaped to his feet and practically fell across the room to Maelani. Still dazed, she didn't try to stop him from scooping her up in his bulky arms.
The footsteps stopped in front of the door and turned to hammering when Regdar deposited Maelani as gently as he could into the room's huge, nearly empty armoire.
"Stay in here," he whispered, "and be quiet."
Maelani nodded and blinked at him. The door to the armoire clicked shut barely a moment before the door to the corridor burst open.
"Lord Constable!" a young city watch sergeant shouted as he stepped into the room.
A dozen of his fellows were behind him, all with swords drawn. They looked around the room with wide, frightened, excited eyes.
"It's gone," Regdar said, noting no small sense of relief from many of the young watchmen.
A signal whistle sounded from behind the shattered windows and Regdar heard the telltale shouts of more watchmen in the street below. The young sergeant walked into the room and sheathed his sword.
Regdar moved to go back to Naull's side, but he kicked something heavy on the floor, stubbing his toe. The object slid a few inches across the polished marble, and Regdar looked at it.
"Lord Constable?" the sergeant asked.
"Lift that bed off her," Regdar ordered as he bent to retrieve the odd bit of twisted metal he'd kicked.
Four of the watchmen moved up and lifted the huge bed off o
f Naull, who did her best to crawl out from under it.
"Regdar," she called, "where's—?"
He held up a hand to silence her and they shared a look. He was gratified to see that Naull understood the greater implications of a detachment of city watchmen finding the duke's daughter in the Lord Constable's bedchamber, with Naull no less.
As Naull freed herself from the bed, Regdar examined the chunk of metal. It was gray, dull steel of the sort often used for armor.
"What is it?" the watch sergeant asked.
"A piece of the killer's armor," Regdar said, though he suspected that was not the whole story.
The sergeant seemed about to reply when he was interrupted by a shrill, lewd whistle.
"Nice," Naull scowled.
Regdar looked over and saw that she had made it out from under the overturned bed, but her silk chemise hadn't.
"Sergeant," Regdar said, "will you take your men into the hall and give the lady some privacy, please?"
Blushing, the young sergeant reluctantly complied.
Naull had never dressed so fast in her life. She was hardly a vain woman, but she liked to put some thought into her wardrobe. As Regdar coaxed a quivering Maelani out of the armoire, though, Naull just threw on whatever was at hand. She stopped for a breath only after finally slinging her pouches over her shoulder.
"What happened?" Maelani asked Regdar.
Naull stepped toward them more forcefully than she should have. There was something about Maelani's body language that made it obvious she wanted Regdar to take her into his arms. The beautiful young woman leaned into him, seemed almost on the verge of collapsing.
Naull took her by the arm, startling her.
"I'll get you out of here," the wizard said.
"But..." Maelani started, looking at Regdar.
Naull pulled on the girl's arm and said, "The lord constable has work to do."