He was showing a very evil grin just then, the contents of his cup no longer bothering him, just as what I was had suddenly become a Good Thing. Life in a Sword Company had taught me to be very suspicious of abrupt Good Things, as what they usually turned out to be was something else entirely.
"You know, I seem to remember the last time I saw a grin like yours," I remarked, folding my arms as I stared at him. "It was when a Fist leader named Seepar came to tell us how lucky we were to have his Fist backing ours. Why were you so eager to find out the minute I got here, Traixe, and why would you imagine I need a bodyguard?"
"I had to know because you do need a bodyguard, and there's nothing involving imagination about it," he said, the grin gone and the growly Traixe back again. "Your brother decided he didn't need a bodyguard and slipped away from them, and by the time they caught up with him again it was too late. He'd already had his 'accident,' and that was the end of that. I'll go down myself first before I let the same thing happen to you."
"And I'd rather let them try it with me-," I said, finally able to show what I'd been feeling ever since I'd heard about Rymar. "My brother was one of my favorite people, Traixe,
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and they killed him with the uncaring ease others use on insects. I want them to try it with me."
"I haven't got enough men to pick up the number of pieces there would be left," he said, a wishful-thinking satisfaction peeking out of his eyes. "I'd turn you loose on them if I could, girl, but there's too much at stake here to do something like that—even if your father agreed, which he never would. From now on you'll be having a bodyguard whether you like it or not, so you'd better get used to the idea. Now, what say I have them bring us something decent to drink?"
Traixe knew better than to try bribing my attention away from something, and I was about to say so when a knock came at the door just before it was opened. I turned to see a serving girl entering with a tray of food and a large pitcher that didn't look as though it contained fruit juice, and my companion decided to use what distractions the intervention of Evon gave him.
"Aha! See there? The best service in the kingdom," he announced with a grin, predictably enjoying my annoyance over the interruption. "Bring that pitcher here, girl. The lady and I mean to sample it before we get to the food."
"What's in this here pitcher ain't for the lady, Lord Traixe," the girl answered primly, putting everything down on a table a good distance away from me. "Sir Fonid says to bring it for you so I did, but she can't have none o' it. Soon's she eats she's gonna get a bath, and then be put in clean, decent clothes before she takes her nap. M'lord Duke'11 want 'er lookin' fresh and pretty at the feastin' tonight, and that's gonna take me some doin'."
"Will it really?" I murmured from two feet away behind the girl, causing her to turn fast in startlement to look up at me. I'd thought I recognized her voice and manner, and sure enough I hadn't been wrong; she was the same servant I'd had five years earlier. I looked down at her with my fingertips resting on my swordbelt, and suddenly she was out of words and observations. Traixe, moving as fast as only a fighter can, "accidentally" shouldered me back from her, then put an arm around her wide-eyed form and headed her toward the door again.
"I think it will be best if the lady sees to herself until she has the time to choose a permanent personal maid," he told
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the girl, using his most soothing voice as he gently hurried her out of harm's way. "You go back to whatever your regular duties are, and if someone tries to send you here again, you refer them to me."
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,' " 1 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 gel lost in the city?"
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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 escort 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?"
"1 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 1 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 the 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,
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even one tike 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 B
lade, 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 telJ 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," ! 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 meaJ.
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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 Lord 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 that moment the Duke was particularly pleased with the custom.
"Traixe, she's here!" he 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 ail. Her 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?" the Duke 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?" the Duke 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 unchanged," Traixe murmured, his expression one of a man choosing his
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words carefully. "Possibly my lord Duke 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," the Duke said with narrowed eyes, sipping at his wine without moving his gaze from the other man. "Not only are you giving me my title 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 the Duke to groan inwardly. Nothing was really wrong with the girl, or Traixe would have said so straight out. AH 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 that way—come to think of it, the time before Sofaltis had been sent north, . . .
"Out with it, old friend," the Duke 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 the Duke to pick up the new topic thread he'd dangled, but the Duke knew him loo 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."
The Duke 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
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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," Duke 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 it 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?" Duke 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," the Duke grum
bled, 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
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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?" the Duke demanded in such a roar that Traixe winced 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 the Duke stride to his unlit hearth and then return. "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?"
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