Green, Sharon - Lady Blade, Lord Fighter.htm

by Lady Blade, Lord Fighter

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  Sharon Green

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  they were doing, none of them looking particularly pleased to be in the middle of something like that, and then they were stepping back and away, either making themselves a part of the crowd or quickly getting out of its way.

  "Priest, you come out here and talk to us," the man Aik called, stopping about four feet away from the front door of the House. "We gotta come in there after you, you ain't gonna like it."

  There was silence for a moment as everyone waited for an answer to the challenge, and then a figure appeared in the open doorway. He was tall and slender, not yet into his third under-decade, and his blond hair was so stylishly proper that it would have looked out of place above an ordinary Servant's habit. His habit, however, although it was still brown, seemed to be made out of a lot better material than sacking, and the red cord around his waist had to be mostly silk. He looked arrogantly around at the men who confronted him, then took one step out into the street.

  "How dare you address a priest of Grail that way?" he hissed, his fury lashing out so sharply that a number of the men took an involuntary step backwards. "I answer only to Grail, and it is you who must answer to me!"

  "This time it's gonna work the other way around," Aik came back, calmer than the men behind him. "You sent trash after some of our women, and we ain't gonna stand still for it."

  "I?" the priest said coldly in deep disapproval, his brows raised in distant questioning. "1 did no such thing. If that's what you were told you were lied to, most likely by those whore-like women of yours. Only whores would speak against a priest of their religion, to keep him from helping their misguided men see the truth. Grail demands that you beat them for their filthy lies, and I demand the same!"

  His ringing tones kept the men silent for a moment, during which time some of the women began whimpering. Their men weren't finding it possible to meet the priest's flashing eyes, and if that conversation went on much longer they would end up being victims again. That would have gotten me mad even if those weren't my father's people; since they were, I wasn't about to stand there and let it happen,

  "I think we can all see there are filthy lies being spoken,

  but it isn't the women who are speaking them," 1 said in a voice loud enough to carry, then began making my way toward the front of the crowd. "Those men you sent named you, Priest, and you don't even have the courage to admit what you did. Doesn't Grail teach that if you're doing something you're ashamed to admit to, you shouldn't be doing it?"

  The crowd was more than happy to get out of my way, so it wasn't long before I was standing next to the man Aik, directly in front of the fashion plate priest. His cold eyes took note of my unusual attire in a single glance, and then he sneered.

  "How fitting for one whore to take the part of others," he said, disgust dripping from every word. "What more proof do you need than that, good men?"

  "If what one is dressed in is proof of what they are, then what are you, Priest?" I came back immediately, my fists on my hips. "I'm dressed this way through no choice of my own, but you seem to be pleased with what you're wearing. Since when do priests of Grail dress like members of the nobility?"

  "Priests of Grail have nothing to do with members of the accursed nobility!" the man hissed, his manner stiffening at the mutter that ran through the crowd of men. "We wear the habit that marks us as Grail's chosen Servants, Servants who are inviolate, Servants who ..."

  "Who hire bullies to beat up women?" I interrupted, not about to let up on the pressure. "There can't be any question that you were behind the attack, the messages that sent the women to that spot came from you. I've never before heard that Grail needed to force people into worshiping him, and I've never seen a priest of his that looked anything like you. Who are you, and why have you come here pretending to be the priest of a god who would never have the bad taste to accept anything like you?"

  "How dare you?" the man thundered, outraged beyond bearing, but I'd already made the point I'd wanted to. The village men were seeing that what I'd said was true, that this wasn't a priest of their religion, and they therefore had no reason to be afraid of what they did to him. The man I'd baited was so enraged he didn't realize that, and with face

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  twisted in fury raised his right arm to give me a backhanded slap. Stepping out of the way of the swing wouldn't have been hard—if there hadn't been so many people around and behind me, which there were. Knowing 1 was trapped I raised my own arms, intending to take most of the strength out of the blow that way, but none of it reached me. A big hand caught the arm at the wrist, stopping it cold, and then there were words of matching coldness.

  "Attacking women seems to be something you really like, you slime," Kylin said to him, the strength of his grip forcing a gasp out of the man he held. "If you're that eager to hit someone, why don't you try me instead?"

  The supposed priest looked up into the face of the man who held him with fear in his eyes, and that was the final thing the villagers needed to see. Not only were priests of Grail forbidden to be violent, it was almost universally accepted that they were without fear of violence to their own persons. To accept pain on Grail's behalf was a high blessing for them, and no true priest would have acted the way that man did. With a growl the crowd of men pulled him out of the grip that held him, and carried him off up the street with them. His screaming protests went ignored and unanswered, and in just a couple of minutes there were only three of us left standing in front of Grail's House.

  "So much for that," Indris said with satisfaction, just short of brushing her hands together. "Now we can finally get to the hospitality you two have more than earned. My house is this way."

  Again she took my arm in a comradely way, glancing over her shoulder with a smile to include Kylin in on the invitation. I walked along with her without doing any of my own looking back, more than unhappy over what had happened. I would have preferred getting hit to being saved by that—that— enemy, but it hadn't happened that way. 1 could see he was trying to push me off balance again, but this time 1 wasn't about to allow it.

  The house we were led to was only two streets away, a neat, pleasant-looking place that stood alone surrounded by grass and a yellow fence. The surprisingly large house was white with blue trim, and Indris gestured to the fence that didn't quite go with the rest.

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  "My husband was an armorer," she said, explaining rather than excusing. "That fence let people know which house to come to when they reached the village, and they used to come from all over to buy his weapons or his panoplies. I know I should have had it repainted years ago, but I'm too much of a sentimental fool. Once it's repainted, the last vestige of him will be gone. Come on, it's not so hard on the eyes from the inside."

  She smiled briefly and led the way through the fence to the house, climbing the three steps quickly and then walking in through the door. 1 followed right behind her, enjoying the dimness and faintly cooler air inside, and was led to a room to the right, just off the entrance hall. The room had an unlit hearth of stone against whitewashed walls, plain but neat and clean window curtains, two small, carved tables and one larger one, and half a dozen chairs standing here and there in the otherwise painfully bare room. Indris crossed to the largest of the tables, uncovered a pitcher and poured from it into two battered metal goblets, then came back to us with the cups in her hands.

  "This is just to start you off," she said with a smile, handing each of us a cup. "Feel free to help yourselves to the rest of the brew in the pitcher; there's plenty more where that came from. I'm going to look for my father. I know he'll want to meet you, and while he's playing host I'll put a meal together for you. At the very least, you have to stay the night."

  She patted my arm and nodded to her other guest, and then

  she was gone, leaving us atone in the room. I
raised my cup

  and sipped at the brew I'd been given, wetting a throat and

  mouth that had been dry much too long, finding less pleasure

  in the effort than I'd been expecting from it. I was glad to

  have something to drink again, doubly glad that it was a very

  ^well-made brew with an excellently delicate flavor, but that

  •was as far as gladness could take me. The minutes dragged

  by one after the other, stretching into a considerable chain,

  f and then the silence was broken.

  ; "This looks like a comfortable, nicely-made house," my "^Companion remarked from behind my left shoulder, no more a casual comment. "Spending the night here should

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  make up for the last couple of nights we've had to do without decent beds."

  Since there was no answer called for, I didn't make one; all I did was stand there and sip my brew. In point of fact I might not have answered even if there had been one called for, not the way I was feeling.

  "All right, I know you're upset with me again," he said with a sigh, giving up on his attempt at casual conversation. "You had a weapon and I took it away from you, and your opinion of me comes clear every time you look at me. All I want to do is ask you one question: if you were with someone who was interested in seeing the color of your blood, would you let them get their hands on a weapon and then let them keep it? You're not a sweet, shy, young thing who knows nothing about what to do. Can you blame me for wanting to stay in one unbroken piece?"

  "Yes," I said without turning then fell silent again, the anger starting to well up inside me. How in hell he always made everything he did sound so logical and right was beyond me, but I wasn't about to accept it any longer. He was an enemy, my enemy, and that's what I had to keep firmly in mind.

  He made a sound of annoyance and seemed about to add to what he'd already said, but wasn't given the chance. Just then there was some rather loud throat-clearing, and I turned to see a man in the doorway from the hall.

  "My daughter tells me I owe you two a good deal of gratitude," he said, smiling as he came farther into the room. "Evon usually trusts his followers to be able to protect themselves, but he isn't above lending a hand every now and again when it's needed. I'm Veslin, and it's a pleasure to have you as guests beneath our roof.''

  The man approached us and offered his hand, first to Kylin and then to me. His hair and beard were completely white, the skin of his face outdoors-tanned, but his bearing was that of a man not far into his third under-decade, and his grip had the strength of a fighting man in his prime. His height was only a shade above mine and he was slender rather than muscular, but the look in his light, piercing eyes was so full of strength and assurance that he seemed almost larger than life. When his fingers closed around my forearm he smiled

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  again in greeting, and I felt relief at the thought that 1 wasn't about to face that man in battle. If I'd had to I would have, but I felt no doubt that if I did, only Even's intervention would have let me walk away again.

  "It was our pleasure to be of help," Kylin said when Veslin turned away from me, apparently as impressed with the man as I was. "We lost our horse and possessions to outlaws and thought we'd never see civilization again, but things turned out right in spite of that. Can you tell us how far we are from the city of Gensea?"

  "The city's only a little more than half a day's ride from here," Veslin answered while going toward the table with the pitcher and cups. "There are horses to be had for sale if you can afford it, or perhaps for loan if you can't. And I think the young lady could use some clothing, but my daughter will take care of that. If you like, I'll check around the village for something for you to wear."

  "I'd like," Kylin answered with a grin as Veslin turned back to him holding brew of his own. "And I can afford to pay, so there shouldn't be a problem. I'll pay for the girl's clothes, too."

  "That's between you and Indris," Veslin said with an answering grin and a headshake, tasting his bre,w. "She probably won't take even a copper, not the way she's feeling, but that's for her to decide. Her husband left her comfortable enough, and with my grandsons gone off to make names for themselves, she doesn't find much that needs to be bought. She's not one to be overly interested in frills for herself."

  "It's my only failing," Indris' voice came as she entered the room, carrying two bowls of something that smelled really good. "Other than that, I'm just about the perfect woman. This stew is no more than a snack for you people, to keep you alive until we sit down to a full meal. If you like, . you can spend the intervening time taking baths and getting into clean clothes."

  The idea of bathing sounded better than the idea of eating,

  at least until I tasted the stew. Indris seemed to be one of

  those who used magic in her cooking, and even though

  missing one meal had hardly left me famished enough to eat

  ^anything not still moving, the generous helping of stew seemed

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  to disappear too quickly. When I was through and had also finished a second cup of brew, Indris led me toward the back of the house while Veslin took Kylin in another direction. During the meal we'd learned that Indris had already sent one of the village children to get clothing that would fit Kylin, so he, too, could get straight to bathing. He and I hadn't exchanged another word during that time, which had added to my enjoyment of the snack.

  Our destination turned out to be Indris' large kitchen, where a wooden tub had been permanently installed in the floor. Right then it was filled with water that had faint steam rising from it, and a nearby chair had a neatly folded white cloth resting on it. Indris gestured to the tub with a smile of amusement, so 1 lost no time untying my "sandals" and pulling off the tunic over my head. Right after that I was stepping into the deliciously warm water, not having consciously realized sooner how long it was since I had last been able to do that.

  "I think that's what I like best about night houses," I said as I sat down, sighing with pleasure. "You can have sex just about anywhere, but only in night houses is a hot bath or two included in the price."

  "I know what you mean," Indris said with a laugh, lifting the folded cloth from the chair and then sitting down with it. "It was one of the things I liked best about night houses myself. And I think I was right in my first guess about you. You're a Blade, aren't you."

  It was definitely a statement rather than a question, and I smiled as I wet my chest and shoulders with the water.

  "Yes, I'm a Blade," I agreed, nodding ruefully. "Obviously not a very successful one right now, but still a Blade— named Sofaltis."

  "A Blade named Sofaltis traveling with a man who won't let her have a weapon," Indris amplified, the amusement gone from her. "At first I thought you might be his captive, but now I'm convinced your situation is more complicated than that. I—accidentally overheard him trying to apologize to you for taking the staff away. I was coming in to introduce my father, but when we heard what was going on between you, my father decided it would be best if he went in alone and introduced himself. Your big friend apparently wants to

  make peace, even though you're not interested in the same. I know I'm intruding in something that doesn't concern me, but—is there anything I can do to help?"

  "Not unless you have a lot of influence with the King," I said, losing a good deal of the pleasure I'd had from the bath water. "I don't want to have anything to do with that man, but I'm not being given the choice. I'm a Blade who wants to stay a Blade, but I made the mistake of being born into the wrong family in the wrong order—at a very bad time. And don't believe he's as decent as he pretends to be. He may have other people fooled, but I can see right through him."

  Which was as close as I could get to telling anyone the truth of wha
t I'd discovered. Knowing the truth might put Indris and her father in danger, and I refused to do that to them. I was the only one who could find a final answer to my problem, but so far that answer was being very successful in hiding itself.

  "You've been promised to him," Indris said after a brief hesitation, the confusion in her eyes clearing as she understood the point. "You're a Blade, but you've still been promised to him. Is your father so unreasonable that you can't speak to him about how you feel?"

  "Right now my father has even less choice than I do," I said with a sigh, feeling the walls of the trap rising up around me again. "He didn't know I was a Blade and by the time he found out it was too late, but it wouldn't have mattered even if he'd known. The Law refuses to accept the fact that any woman might have a mind of her own, so I'm not allowed a say in the matter. Damned if I don't have my say anyway, one way or the other."

  "I see," she said, clearly having heard my last words even though I'd muttered them. "You're a Blade who's been promised in marriage, and you hate the idea so much you've decided to fight it along with everyone involved. That's why you refused to listen to that apology."

  "That wasn't my only reason," I said, looking up at the flatness of her tone. She was staring at me with an expression 1 couldn't quite read, one that seemed to be filled with understanding but not agreement. "And you said you were a Blade yourself. You made your own choice about what to do with your life, but how would you have liked it if someone

  J

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  had tried forcing you into the choice? Would that have been fair just because you're a woman?"

  "You might say I was forced into the choice," she came back, smiling faintly as she rose from the chair. "1 didn't want to give up being a Blade any more than you do, but I was forced to change my mind. I'll pour us some tasil and then tel! you what happened."

  She went to the wide hearth and lifted a tasil pot that was sitting close enough to the fire to keep its contents warm, then poured the pale brown liquid into two cups. When she handed me one of the cups, I found that she'd gotten that perfect balance of really good tasil: light enough not to be bitter, heavy enough to have body and taste, ft had also been made with the faintest hint of honey, an enhancement rather than an addition.