Green, Sharon - Lady Blade, Lord Fighter.htm

by Lady Blade, Lord Fighter

  He was eyeing the number of bodies around me at that point, and even as I wiped at the sweat on my forehead with the back of my left hand, I had to agree the number was impressive. Now that I could look around, it seemed that most of the attackers had been in my vicinity.

  "None of them were good enough for Evon to have needed to bother," I said, tossing my head to get the damp hair out of my eyes, my bloody sword held carefully away from what were supposed to be my dress leathers. "What about the fighters who were with me?"

  ' 'Three of them are fine; no more than a scratch here and there," he answered, and then the rage increased in his eyes although his voice changed not at all. "I passed the fourth on my way over here, lying on the carpeting with his throat slit—and his head bashed in from behind. The only blood near him was his own."

  His glance had gone to my left, the direction we'd been

  walking in, which meant the lone fighter out ahead of us had

  been the one to die. I remembered thinking that that

  „:" was usually the way of it—but not under those particular

  , circumstances.

  ; "Traixe, they couldn't have gotten behind him!" I pro-

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  tested, definitely feeling confused. "They didn't come out of the rooms until the other three and I had passed. And what happened to that messenger? Did they cut him down, or is he the reason reinforcements got here so fast?"

  "My other fighters got here so fast because some of them can actually think," he said with something of a headshake. "They were called out when two bodies were found in a back passage behind the kitchens, a passage that hadn't been used for years. The two kitchen workers weren't the sort to disappear without reason, so the kitchen master sent the others around searching, and the bodies were found more by accident than design. When the unit leader of my fighters saw them, his first thought was that they'd stumbled into something they shouldn't have seen and had been killed for it. That thought led him into wondering what the something could be, and then it came to him that the only thing different about the house right now was that you had arrived. He sent his unit off without worrying about looking foolish if he were wrong, then came pelting over to my apartment. We both ran all the way, but we were still too late."

  "Not as far as I was concerned," I said, giving him my own headshake. "But that still doesn't answer all of my question. What about the messenger?"

  "He's gone," Traixe growled, the sound of betrayal discovered in the two short words. "He has to have been the one who hit my fighter from behind, no one else would have had the opportunity and position. Also, someone had to have arranged to get that pack into the castle, and out again if they'd pulled off whatever they were trying. Do you have any idea how many years he's been in service with the Duke? How deep does this Evon-forsaken thing go?"

  "Deep enough, obviously, to have reached into the household," I said, as angry at that as Traixe was. "The one bright point is that you now have someone to question when you catch up to him. He couldn't have made it out of the castle yet, could he?"

  "Have you been away too long to remember how many nooks and crevasses this castle has to hide in?" Traixe asked, justifiably sour. "I get the feeling we'll be searching for months without finding anything, but that doesn't mean we won't bother. Let me have a couple of words with my men."

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  He turned away to the fighters who were searching bodies ji" in an effort to see if they could leam anything, which gave me the chance to look around for something to wipe my blade on. After a moment I had to settle for the homespun of one of my former attackers, and was just straightening up with my sword as clean as it was likely to get until I was back in my apartment, when my father arrived.

  "By Evon, this is not to be tolerated!" came the sudden roar, causing everyone to look up or turn around. "In my very house, damn them! If this is the sort of war they want, this is what they'll get! Traixe! I'll have you and your captains just after first light tomorrow! Right now my only concern is for Sofaltis."

  "She's unhurt, my lord," Traixe said at once, putting his hand out in my direction. "See, as I said: it was her enemies who came to harm."

  My father turned his head to look at me, and relief lightened the burden from his shoulders. He was still as tall and unbent as ever, his brown hair untouched by gray, still the strong man in his prime who had never considered warmth and love indications of weakness. When my aunt Illi had become exasperated with me she would tell me how much like my father I was, and I'd usually annoyed her more by taking that as a compliment.

  "I can see, Father, that you took Duke Verid's criticism to heart," 1 said by way of greeting, sheathing my sword as I walked toward him. "He was the one who claimed your welcoming hospitality wasn't as exciting as his in the east, wasn't he? If I ever meet him again, I can now tell him how wrong he was."

  "I can see, Daughter, that you haven't changed after all," he came back, a grin breaking through the disapproval he was trying to show for my flippancy. "I would much rather have seen Verid partaking of this—'exciting welcoming,' and then I, too, would have found some amusement in it. Have you gotten to be so excellent a Blade that you're now beyond a proper greeting for your father?"

  He held his arms out to me as I laughed, and then I was in them, hugging as hard as I was being hugged. I would never be beyond needing that sort of a greeting, and somehow my

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  father seemed to know it. It had felt good to be home before; now it was wonderful.

  "Let's leave this mess for Traixe to see to," my father said after a moment, loosening his hug but still keeping one arm around me. "You and 1 have some things to discuss before we join our guests in the feasting hall. Come with me."

  Just because my father had taken over as my escort and guide didn't mean Traixe was satisfied. We hadn't taken three steps before there were sounds behind us on the carpeting, sounds of following boots. The boots were filled with six of Traixe's fighters, and rather than being annoyed my father seemed grimly contented. I suppose that should have given me a hint of some sort, but as it was I put it down to the scare of a close call and forgot about it.

  The door to my father's study stood open, apparently as he'd left it when he'd come running out, but the two House Guards were still at their posts to either side of it even though they looked as if they wished they'd gone along. We left our six shadows outside with the guards and father closed the door on all of them, then he went to a silver tray and began filling two silver cups from a crystal pitcher.

  "I've been saving this wine for a long time," he said, replacing the pitcher and turning to me with the cups and a smile. "1 must admit I was upset at first to learn that your aunt had let you become a Blade, but now I mean to write her at once and express my profound thanks. If not for that, I might have saved this wine to no purpose at all."

  "Really, Father, they weren't anywhere near good enough to worry about," I assured him, taking one of the cups with an answering smile. "If 1 hadn't been a Blade, they would have gone down by tripping over their own feet."

  "Of course they would," he said, his agreement more a refusal to argue than a belief in what I'd said. "I bid you welcome on your return home, Daughter, and ask Evon to continue guarding you for the short while you remain in danger. To alertness till then, and a speedy end to the need for alertness."

  He had raised his cup for the formal welcoming toast, with me, of course, doing the same, and then we drank. The wine really was excellent, but I couldn't help wondering about the odd way he'd put the toast.

  "Are you trying to say you have a plan to finish off our ^enemies, Father?" I asked once the cups were down, the ^sudden inspiration making me eager. "Whatever it is, I hope :.you know you'll have my blade to add to the showdown. When do we get started with it?"

  "Patience,
child, patience," he said with a laugh, enjoying what he saw in my face. "One day we'll have those shadow-skulkers on their knees before us, ali their crimes about to be paid for. What we're doing now is only a stopgap, but one that will give them a blank wall to raven against, a wall that will have you safely behind it. Then they can plot and plan to their hearts' content, and it won't do them any good."

  "I have the feeling I'm missing something," I said slowly, finding it impossible to follow him. "But I also have the feeling I ought to tell you about the plan / came up with after getting your letter. I was going to wait to see if the same thought already occurred to you, but now I think it's better if I mention it first. After what just happened, I don't want you thinking you'll be taking advantage of me or putting me in danger I'm not fully prepared to deal with."

  I broke off then to take another swallow of wine, finding it a lot harder talking about my plan than thinking of it had been. My father looked at me with raised brows, just as he always had when I'd been very young and trying to ask for something he would probably consider inappropriate, and that helped to make it worse. To the rest of the world I was a grown woman and a Blade, but I had the definite impression he still saw me as nothing more than his little girl.

  "Father, now that Rymar is gone you have no heir," I plunged in, turning from him to look around at the wood and silk-draped walls of his study. There were weapons on those walls, weapons that the Dukes of our family had used each in his own day, and sight of them, I discovered, was also doing more harm than good. "In times like these you need an heir who's skilled with weapons, one who won't be put out of the way as easily as Rymar was, one who will be of your blood and make you proud of that blood. With all my brothers gone or missing, there's only one person left who fits those qualifications. I'm asking you to name me your heir."

  I just had to turn back to look at him then, but there was no change in the expression I'd turned away from, unless his

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  brows had gone even higher. He almost seemed frozen in shock, and then he suddenly began chuckling, as though at a particularly good joke.

  "Your sense of humor certainly hasn't changed, Sofaltis," he said, raising his cup to sip from it, even his eyes amused. "For a moment there I thought you were serious."

  "Father, 1 am serious," I said, trying very hard not to show the abrupt and intense insult I was feeling. "How can you think I'm not?"

  "Girl, no one with any sense could seriously propose something like that," he answered with a snort of lighter amusement, gesturing aside the entire concept. "My Barons and Counts would be up in arms so fast it would take our breath away, and who could blame them? No sane man would make a woman his heir, even if it weren't against the strictest traditions we've always lived by. Women's heads are too easily turned by pretty words and a handsome face, and the fool who named a woman his heir would soon have a common-bom stranger in that place. And in this instance, it would only serve to plunge you even more deeply into danger. No, child, under no circumstances will I name you my heir.''

  "Father, that's unfair!" I protested, hearing the beginnings of anger no matter how hard I fought against it. "I've met enough men to know how 1 react to them, and 1 haven't seen one yet who's been able to—'turn my head.1 And I'm more than willing to put on a demonstration of Blade skill to keep your Counts and Barons prudently quiet, the sort that will let them know I'm no stranger to war. As far as being plunged more deeply into danger goes, that's utter nonsense. They're already coming after me with what seems like everything they have, so what more could they do?"

  "By my calculations, quite a bit," he answered, turning away to seat himself in a deep leather chair before bringing his eyes back to me. "The one named my heir will be targeted for assassination at all costs, and that one won't be you even if you pout and throw a tantrum the way you used to when you were small. Only a man can survive under something like that—and convince them to try their luck elsewhere rather than here—and that's who my heir wil! be. A man." "Really," I said, so flatly furious that his eyes narrowed

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  just a little. "A man. Rather than a helpless, empty-headed female. So which of my brothers have you located?"

  "My agents have been able to find neither one of them,** he said with a headshake, something of an edge to his voice in reaction to my less-than-dociie attitude. "The key to my current problem is my eldest daughter Sofaltis, who will not dig her heels in and demand her own way. She wili obey her father as she's duty-bound to do, and everything will continue according to the very careful planning her elders have made. Do you understand me, girl?"

  "Father, I haven't understood a thing since we first began talking," I said, finding that the least incendiary answer I could think of. "If you don't believe I'm good enough to be your heir, why did you call me home?"

  "If you weren't so set on having everything your own way, you'd scarcely need to ask," he returned, leaning back in complete comfort in his chair. "You're a good number of years beyond the time a girl of your station should properly be settled, but that's worked out for the best. As soon as he gets here, you'll be married to the man I've chosen as my heir."

  Pleased anticipation shouldn't have the ability to drop a ceiling on your head, but that's what I felt my father's words had done to me. I stood and stared at him in silence for a moment before quickly draining the cup I held, and only then did it come to me that I had nothing to worry about.

  "For a minute there you had me going, Father," I said, snorting my amusement the way he had done. "I'd almost forgotten I'm of age, so I thought you were serious. You can't complain about not having gotten back at me, because you have."

  1 shook my head as I turned to the wine pitcher, wondering if he'd been as shocked as I had felt. Hearing something like that out of the blue is enough to rattle anyone, but I felt a good deal better. Better, that is, until I turned back with my cup refilled to find him grinning faintly and shaking his head.

  "I'm afraid you've spent too long a time in the north, my child," he said, sounding anything but afraid. "Here in the south only men come of age, a tradition which is also supported by King's Law. As my daughter you're bound to obey my wishes, and would be bound so even if you had just

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  begun your true-tenth decade. Your betrothal to Lord Kyjin of the House of Torain, son of Trame, Duke of Arthil, has already been registered at the King's court. Which means you'll be married to him as soon as possible after he arrives here and we've all met him. Now that you've been given formal notice of the arrangements, you may consider yourself bound by Law as well as tradition."

  "Bound to marry someone even you haven't met," I said, so furious it was all I could do to keep my hand from my hilt. "Is that why you got me back here without telling me why you wanted me so badly? To trap me with the Law in case I wasn't loyal enough to the family to do things your way after simply being asked? Am 1 too—female—for anyone to expect rational cooperation from me?"

  "No, no, girl, it isn't that at all," he said, finally disturbed enough to put his cup aside and rise again. "Of course 1 was prepared to ask and expect your cooperation, it's just that your attitude made me feel this was the better approach. And it's best, of course, if you understand you have no choice in the matter—"

  "Is that so?" 1 asked, stepping back from the arms he tried to put around me. "You think 1 have no choice in the matter? Well, it so happens that if you'd asked rather than told me, you would have been right. I would have had no choice but to agree, but you didn't ask so I have a very definite option. Call the King's Fighters and have me arrested."

  This time I was the one who turned away to a chair to sit, and when I looked back at him he was simply standing and staring at me. He was wearing a very faint frown, as though he were trying to figure out a puzzle, and finally he shook his head.

  "I don't understand," he protested, his tone sh
owing he was definitely not used to not understanding. "What could King's Fighters possibly have to do with any of this?"

  "They're the ones who enforce the King's Law, aren't they?" I asked in turn, sipping at my wine while being very, very reasonable. "Since I'm about to break one of the King's Laws, you'll need them to arrest me. I don't care how many times that betrothal was registered, I'm not marrying anyone. Stuff that in your traditions and broil it."

  My father had been a Duke for many years, running every-

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  one and everything to suit what he considered right, but he hadn't gone entirely without various kinds of opposition. He had experience dealing with that opposition in all ways including diplomacy, and that, despite the anger smoldering in his eyes, is what he tried on me next.

  "Sofaltis, a refusal like that would do nothing more than bring ridicule down on our family name," he said, working hard to "out-reason" me. "Your agreement to the marriage isn't required, you know. The contracts already have my signature, which leaves nothing but the formality of the ceremony to complete the legalities. Why make a fuss when you reaily have no choice but to accede to my wishes?"

  "Ah, yes, the formality of the ceremony," I drawled, smiling at him over the rim of my cup. "The meaningless formality during which a priest of Even asks if the bride is truly willing. Since I'm not willing and would not hesitate to say so, I wonder what would become of that unimportant little formality? Would a priest of Evon try pretending he hadn't heard my refusal? Especially with my point to his throat?"

  I think it wasn't until right that moment that my father actually understood what sort of female he was dealing with. He seemed to be very used to the sort who trembled and wept and tried desperately to refuse, but ended up obeying anyway. I had never understood that sort of woman, no matter how hard I'd tried; as long as you were willing to accept the consequences of refusal, how could anyone force you away from your chosen stand? With pain? With the threat of death? If forced capitulation isn't the worst of pain, if death isn't preferable to living life to the tune of someone else's flute, then why bother protesting in the first place?