Sky of Swords

by Dave Duncan

  “Are you sure you did what I asked?” she asked. It seemed like cheating that she had not felt pain. She hadn’t felt anything very much.

  “Absolutely certain. It was wonderful. Being your first time helped. That made it really exciting.”

  Well, if she had wanted poetry, she’d have gone after Audley. Action mattered more than words. “Second time wouldn’t be any fun?” The Anciers theory.

  “It would be more fun.”

  “Then perhaps you should try. Just to be sure you did what I asked. Can you?”

  “Maybe.”

  “How do I find out ?”

  “Try a kiss. If that doesn’t work, I can show you other ways.”

  Trail hair over their naked bodies, Dian had suggested once, but such drastic measures were not required in this case. The kiss worked very well.

  The second time went on a lot longer. She was ready for those strange reactions, or thought she was, but they came sooner, and stronger, and then they seemed to take over the world. Yes! Oh, yes! This must be what Dian had meant—waves of urgency—she soared, she squirmed in agonies of joy, thunderclaps of release, first her, then him. A whirling descent into peace, sweat, slow thumping hearts.

  She heard him say, “I must go,” and jerked awake. They had changed sides sometime in the last turmoil, so he was between her and the wall. His head lay heavy on her breasts.

  She wondered what it would be like to do this every night, and knew that nights would never be the same again. Even when she slept alone, she would think of what might be. She stroked the coarse, tangled hair, the gritty-rough jaw. “Dog, will you come to me again? Tomorrow? Would you? Can you? Without anyone finding out?”

  He sighed. “Are you appointing me your lover?”

  “That would be wonderful. Do you want to be?”

  “Woman, that is the stupidest question you ever asked anyone in your whole life.”

  “Thank you, Dog. Really? Every night?”

  “Always. As long as you want me. No one else.” He sighed again, and his huge chest could produce a very long sigh. “You’re crazy,” he growled. “How can a crazy woman have breasts like these?” He kissed them.

  “They’re too small.”

  “They are absolutely perfect! Don’t like flabby fat women.” He took them in his great hands, one each. “Perfect fit. You are perfect, all over. Big, strong, lusty—just what a man needs.”

  Disbelieving, but pleased by his brave effort to be romantic, she tousled his hair. “Thank you. You’re a magnificent man. I’m very happy.”

  “I can’t believe it.” A few moments later his face returned to the pillow beside hers. “Audley must be told. He won’t talk, but he has to know.”

  “I’ll tell him.” Easier said than…told.

  “Tomorrow will have to be after midnight.”

  “Come then. I won’t be asleep, but if I am, waken me. That’s a royal command, Sir Dog.”

  He took his time climbing over her, but she was deliberately not making it easy.

  24

  Love for money is more plentiful than money for love.

  PRINCE COURTNEY

  Despite a desperate need to scream the blissful news from the rooftops, by morning Malinda had decided she must not share her secret with anyone except her Blades, not even Dian. If it came out, it would provoke no ordinary scandal; Granville could use it to ruin her, her lover would die. But informing Audley of Dog’s new duties without also informing everyone else was going to be tricky. After breakfast she announced that she wished to visit the royal greenhouses, which had been built by Queen Haralda and in Fourthmoon would be full of summer blossoms. This prospect provoked no great enthusiasm among her ladies, but maids of honor did not argue with princesses. Making absurd small talk about pruning, bedding out, and even fertilizer, she led her parade along aisles of foliage, past master gardeners bowing low and apprentice gardeners kneeling in mud, until she found a very small greenhouse packed with roses. There was only room inside that one for her and the two Blades currently in attendance—Audley and Winter.

  The first rosebuds were opening. Dog was her lover and her heart would burst with joy. Alas, a whole day and half a night until she could be with him again…

  She admired a scarlet flower. “I have something to tell you, Commander, in confidence.”

  “You can trust your Guard to the death, my lady. It is unfortunate that you do not always do so.”

  “It concerns—What did you say?”

  “A few days ago I heard the chambermaids twittering about the dirt on your slippers and robe—cobwebs and stuff. You went exploring the staircase, although you promised me you would not.”

  Oh, spirits! “I did not promise that. I just promised to keep it secret. What did you tell them? That I like to dabble at housework in the middle of the night and a housecoat makes a dandy duster?”

  Audley’s face flamed even redder. “I suggested the dirt came from the ten years of dust under your bed and they should clean that up. Lady Bandit added her voice to mine. Fortunately, nobody had noticed your footprints by the door; they were very faint and I wiped them away with a rug. I should have mentioned the incident to you, but I assumed that once you had satisfied your curiosity that—”

  “How did you know about the bed?”

  “I look under it regularly, of course.” Audley had totally lost his customary respectful manner. He was young, unsure, probably struggling to remember lectures on Ward Management. “A midden…I had not ordered it cleaned up sooner because any evildoer meddling under there would have left marks. But your slippers were filthy again this morning, so obviously you went snooping again last night. Today I could do nothing but threaten the skivvies. I had to warn them that spreading rumors about Your Grace would have very serious consequences.”

  The robe? She had found a very tiny, inconspicuous stain on it, but then she had hung it in the wardrobe, so the chambermaids would not have seen it. She must get to it before Dian did. Just the slippers.

  “I went down to call upon Sir Dog.”

  Her Commander’s face changed comically, from furious red to ashen white. “You walked into that room without even knowing who was in there?”

  She moved along to a collection of white rosebushes in pots. “No.”

  “But…Oh! Dog?” His rage came rushing back. “Dog left the door open for you? I shall have words with Sir Dog, Your Grace! Any agreement—”

  “You do not know about the spy hole?”

  Audley deflated instantly. Ironhall reflexes were superhumanly fast. “No, Your Grace. If I have given offense—”

  “Not much. I suggest you explore the stairs as carefully as you peer under my bed. There was no assignation kept secret from you; indeed Sir Dog insists you be informed of what has already happened. Last night I went downstairs knowing full well that there was no one in that room except him.” She bent to sniff at a blossom so her face was hidden. “I invited him upstairs. He may attend me in my chamber in future. You are now fully informed and will be kept so in future.” She straightened up without meeting his eyes. Her cheeks must be redder than any rose.

  “I am truly sorry to have doubted Your Grace. Or Sir Dog.”

  She forced herself to look at the men. Winter’s eyes were very wide, but at least he wasn’t smirking the way Abel would when he heard the news. Audley was hiding his wounds well. She awarded him a smile. “I owe you an apology for being so careless, though. What can we do about the servants and my slippers?”

  “Buy them off or fire them.”

  She found another early bloom to admire. This tête-à-tête must be ended before the people outside became suspicious. “No. Ashes. Next time you see them, mention that I was complaining of scorching my shins because I went to sleep on the chair with my feet on the hearth. It’s weak, but it should satisfy a bunch of chambermaids.”

  “Very ingenious, my lady.” They studied each other across the bush, Winter listening with a worried frown.


  “Until further notice,” she said, “Sir Dog will share my bed. I needn’t tell you that the rules for princesses are not the same as those for princes and I will be seriously damaged if this becomes known. It isn’t fair, but that’s the way it is. The Lord Protector will certainly use it against me if he finds out. Dog will certainly die.” And so might they. “Can you keep my secret?”

  “Yes, my lady, but only if you don’t mind varying the hours he spends with you. Otherwise the Guard will wonder why Dog is given special treatment.”

  She could not hide a smile. Very special treatment! “Of course. The stairs had better be cleaned, though. I hope my Blades will not object to performing some light housework?”

  A familiar twinkle returned to Audley’s eye. “The honor will be Dog’s.”

  She laughed. “Very fitting! Thank you. And thank you, Sir Winter. I am in your hands.”

  “You’re in Dog’s hands, my lady,” Audley said, “and I am mad with jealousy. We both are, and I know from things he has said in the past that Sir Abel will be also.”

  She was too taken aback to say more than, “Thank you!” She had been promoted to woman of the world.

  “If I may presume, Your Grace…you are aware of the ring problem, aren’t you?”

  Thrown off balance, she looked from one Blade to the other. “Abel’s pearl was for services rendered?” She did not look to see if Winter was wearing his ruby.

  “Not really.” Audley was having great trouble keeping his face straight, now that he was back on the winning side of the discussion. “That pearl ring is well known around the palace. It indicates that the wearer currently belongs to Lady Violet and she will rip out the eyes of any other woman who looks his way. But it is also a conjurement. I’m sure you know, my lady, that lovers’ rings normally provide protection for a year or more.” She had not even known such things as lovers’ rings existed, and he had guessed as much. “Before the enchantment wears off, that is. The problem is that an Ironhall binding is so potent that it deflects other conjurations, and on us the rings need to be re-ensorcelled every two or three weeks. The cost is extreme, far beyond the means of any Blade.” He fished in his pouch and produced a simple gold band. “We do try, but most ladies prefer to provide their own, so that they can rely on the enchantment to perform as required.”

  Her blushes must be visible to the spectators outside. She had known that there were ways of avoiding unwanted pregnancies without ever realizing that the Blades’ trophies served that purpose. Dian’s confessions had never veered toward such sordid, unromantic matters, and she had no idea whether Dog had been wearing a ring in the night. Nor could she even be certain that Audley was speaking the entire truth, for the Blades liked to spread legends about their prowess. She could not see why they would spread this one.

  “Thank you for reminding me,” she said. “You still have some crowns left in your expense purse?”

  “I believe there may be enough, my lady.”

  “Then please give it to Sir Dog and allow him some free time this afternoon so that he can have his ring, um, recharged.”

  “As Your Highness commands. Sir Winter?”

  “I just wanted to tell Her Grace,” Winter said solemnly, “that from our point of view, her choice of a bedmate who is one of us, and therefore trustworthy, is very welcome because it makes our task of guarding her much simpler. I just wish, like you, Commander, that she had chosen the best man.”

  “We agree in general on that but not on the particulars.”

  “That will do, gentlemen!” Malinda moved to the door, relishing the flattery and wondering if—incredibly!—there might even be some truth in it. Dog had said she was beautiful.

  She was dreading the moment when she must face him in front of witnesses, and this happened as soon as she returned to her apartment. Fortunately he threw himself on his knees, grabbed her hand to kiss, and babbled about how he wanted to die for her. He had these manic outbursts every few days and everyone just ignored them now, but it made her blushes understandable.

  The complications of romance showed up again when young Sir Abel arrived to relieve Winter. All the women screamed in horror at the four raw scratches that adorned his face from left eye to jaw.

  “Fencing,” he explained vaguely. “Fencing lessons down at the gym.”

  Amid the squawks of disbelief, Dian said, “And just who is expert enough at fencing to put four exactly parallel scratches like that on your cheek?”

  “Sir Snake,” Abel said, giving Malinda a peculiar look. “Amazing for his age. Must be thirty if he’s a day. Devious!”

  Young Blades could be devious too. Obviously the marks were some hours old and he had made no effort to have them treated. Furthermore, he was making quite sure everyone noticed the garnet that now adorned his finger in place of the pink pearl. Lady Violet had been displaced in his affections, if they deserved the name.

  Stupid kid!

  Soon after that he sidled close enough to pass Malinda a note, and she withdrew to read it in private. The elaborately cursive script was so snarled that she could barely decipher it—the sign of a devious mind, no doubt.

  You still have friends in high places, although they dare not show their hand at present. Do not be alarmed when the Royal Guard is removed. He may make threats, but he plans to find you a foreign husband and cannot create open scandal. Play for time, discourage any who offer to rally support for you, because they may be playing a false game. Burn this note. Trust no one except your own Blades and your friend—

  Stealth

  Hmm! The younger Blades often referred to their heroes by the names of their swords. Abel’s hint was a strong suggestion that Stealth must be Sir Snake, and she would ask Dog later. Snake’s being one of Roland’s henchmen explained the reference to high places. She had seen Snake only twice since the Night of Dogs, once at her wedding. Basically the note was advising her to do what she would do anyway, but the reference to “playing for time” was worrisome. Time for what? Time for Granville to find her a husband? Or time for Amby to die?

  After another ten or twenty years even that day ended and she went to bed. She still had hours to wait until midnight, of course, but she did manage to sleep—seven or eight times. She was up not long before Dog came, stoking the fire and lighting candles, but she must have dozed off again. Suddenly there he was, beside the bed, looking down at her as if he had been there for hours.

  She whispered, “Darling!”

  He did not move. “Why?” His growl rasped like a saw on steel.

  “Why what?”

  “Why me? You’re a princess and I’m just dirt. Why soil your pretty body with dirt like me?”

  He was in one of his difficult moods. She held out her arms, careful not to dislodge the quilt any more than necessary. “Come and dirty me, then.”

  He licked his lips. “Why?” he growled again. “Is it my muscles? Is that all? You just like bulgy arms?”

  “I love your muscles, Dog, but that isn’t why I love you. Come into bed and I’ll tell you why. Hurry!”

  “You want the candles snuffed?”

  “No,” she said, although she had never realized that there was a choice.

  Dog was not in the least shy. Fascinated, she watched as he unsheathed the broadsword and laid it carefully on a chair near to hand, then shed cloak and baldric, dropping them around him on the floor, similarly jerkin, boots, and breeches. He untied the laces that fastened his hose to his doublet and took all those off, so he was left standing there in only his shirt, which barely came low enough to meet the silver fuzz that covered his legs.

  She had overlooked the fact that the fox can run with the vixen—he lifted back the covers and stared down at her naked body. Eeek! And stared, as if he didn’t believe it or was trying to memorize it. She was certain she must be blushing all over.

  “You’re sure?” he growled.

  “Sure? I’m bursting into flames, you great ox! Bring those muscles here at once.” She
lurched up, grabbed him by the shirt, and hauled him down into bed. Even then, when she finally had him in there beside her and the quilts over them both, he just lay like a hot snowdrift, although she was already experienced enough to tell that his body wanted her.

  He turned from her kiss. “Tell me why me.”

  “Because you’re you, you idiot! If I wanted a pretty man, I’d seduce Audley, and he’d jump right into some other woman’s bed the same night—wouldn’t he? Winter’s good for talking politics. If all I wanted was a quick bounce, I’d ask Abel. I wanted you because you know what pain is.”

  He grunted.

  “I don’t know your burden,” she whispered, struggling to work his shirt off him in a suitably romantic way, “and I don’t care. You bear it. You suffer. You understand that life is hard and cruel, and sometimes you don’t think you can go on any longer, but you always do and you always will. You’re strong, Dog, and I don’t just mean your muscles. You’re a man; those others are only boys.”

  “I’m five months older than—”

  “You’re ten years older than Audley will ever be. I need a man. Now I’ve got one lying naked in my bed and I have no clothes on. Do something appropriate. If you don’t touch me I’ll scream.”

  “I’m trash.”

  “I love you.”

  “Stop saying that!”

  “Sh! All right, you’re trash. You’re shit. You’re no good. You’re a dog. Get out of my bed, animal, and go send me a real—”

  Suddenly he was all over her—mouth, tongue, hands, body, kissing, sucking, kneading, punching, and without warning pulling her legs apart. She smothered a cry of pain as he stabbed into her and began a fury of thrusting and pumping.

  It was all over in moments and he collapsed on her, gasping like a landed fish. She stroked his sweaty hair and waited. It was a while before he withdrew, but by then the hard breathing had become sobs and tears were splashing on her breasts. Life with Dog was never going to be predictable. It had been a test, she knew, but all she understood was that anger would be the wrong reaction; he probably understood even less than she did.