One Land, One Duke

by Emerson, Ru

  "It is not your business, outlander."

  "Yeah? People try to kill me, it makes things my business. I guess with your pretty face and your totally charming manner, it isn't easy to figure why girls would like him better, though."

  Firsi's mouth twitched. “It is easy for such a man to win the attentions of women, and the praise of their fathers. Since he did not collect taxes, or arrest wrongdoers—oh, no! Men like us are always given the dirty tasks."

  "Yeah,” Chris jeered. “Bet you get paid for it, too."

  Firsi glared down at the outlander, then drew himself up straight and glared over him at Dahven, who was still fiddling with leather straps and, to all appearances, disinterested in the quarrel, or the presence of his brothers’ men. “Their honors the Thukars have sent us to return you to Sikkre. Alive, if possible."

  Chris laughed. “I am so sure."

  "In all honesty,” Firsi went on stiffly, “their honors have more than once expressed aloud distress that such a dreadful affair—a family matter—should become public, that the name of their brother should be spread through Rhadaz as a father-murderer, or that the Emperor should hear of it—"

  "Nonsense,” Dahven said. “Shesseran heard of Father's death no doubt within hours of the occurrence—long days before I heard of it, I assure you."

  "Assure us of anything you wish, for all I care,” Firsi replied even more stiffly. “I care only that we have at last found you, I have myself wasted a full moon-season at the search and have already encountered these persons entirely too many times.” A sweep of his hand took in Chris, Robyn, Jennifer. His eyes fixed on Aletto. “This time, nera-Duke, you will come with us. Your uncle has offered a princely sum for your capture and the Lady Lialla's.” Aletto brought his chin up and said nothing. Lialla, not far behind him, folded her arms across her chest and stared coldly from under her black scarves.

  "Oh, sure.” Chris took a step to the left edge of the road, to block the horseman trying to edge behind him. “Maybe if you get enough reward for that kind of dirty work, you can just buy a girl or two—preferably one with crummy vision and lousy tastes.” The Sikkreni leaned forward; his nearest companion laid hold of his shoulder and kept him in place.

  "Firsi, can't you see he's a green boy, trying to provoke the fight? But there is also a reward for you,” he said pointedly. “And it is enough to repay us for the trouble we've been caused, finding you. As for you, traitor, we've heard all the stories put about Sikkre's market by your common friends. Unfortunately for you, the stories don't make as much sense as the truth does."

  "Which, according to my brothers and to you,” Dahven returned smoothly, “is that I murdered my father so I could become Duke years before my time and offer the Duchy as a marriage portion to a certain lady.” He loosened a buckle, snugged it down again by feel; his eyes remained on the horsemen.

  "That is what you did—"

  "Or at least what you and my brothers hope everyone will believe. Jennifer,” he added lightly, “I owe you an apology, my lady love, for doubting your reading of my brother's men."

  "Accepted,” she replied in kind. Firsi shifted his glare to her; she gave him a chill look. “I remember you,” she said, and clipped her words. “From an encounter in the desert, south of Sikkre. You must have learned nothing, to come in search of another fight."

  Firsi shifted and this time evaded his companion's arm, edged his horse forward a pace. As he passed Aletto, the nera-Duke took one step back to keep from being boxed in; Robyn backed with him and Lialla moved to one side. Jennifer set her teeth as the sin-Duchess started fingering Thread, began humming Puccini under her breath to counter the discomfort. “You, woman. You caused a good deal of trouble in Sikkre, beginning with the wizard Snake's death. I will take considerable pleasure in handing you to Lord Jadek personally."

  She bared her teeth at him. “You sound pretty damned brave up there. Climb off that damned horse and see how far you get."

  "Firsi, don't—!” one of his company began, but the man had already thrown one leg across the horse and dropped to the ground. Jennifer's bo caught him under the chin; his teeth slammed together with a loud click. He reeled back into the horse and fell. Jennifer shoved the horse back with one extended swing of the staff and leaped over the unconscious Firsi to snap a strike at the man who'd ridden up behind him. He ducked and snatched at the end of the bo; the other end came around and cracked across the back of his neck. He caught hold of his horse's mane two-handed, but slid slowly down the animal's back and onto the road not far from Firsi. Jennifer jumped aside, cast one quick glance over her shoulder. “Dahven?” she demanded; she had to shout over men yelling, Chris snapping loud, rhythmic insults at the two men riding for him, over what sounded like an army in the brush on the other side of the road, Robyn's startled shriek as Aletto leaped forward to press an advantage. “Dahven, damnit, where are you?"

  "Right here!” He was shouting from somewhere behind her, but a moment later he was a reassuring presence on her right side.

  "Don't get too close,” she warned him and he laughed.

  "The way you're using that thing? Are you mad?” He had the sword out and up, and as she watched for the next opening in the milling mass of horsemen, Dahven took two long strides, passed Aletto and caught one of the Sikkreni guardsmen by the open throat of his leather overshirt, hauling him from the saddle and forehead-first into the pommel of the dull sword. Before the next man could press past the riderless horse and attack, Dahven had the fallen man's sword and kicked the worthless one behind him. He grinned up at his new opponent. “Eprian, you and I have fought for practice, are you certain you want to try it for blood?” Eprian apparently didn't; he dragged his horse back and began edging around to try and catch Chris—who was busy with a man afoot. Jennifer waited until the guardsman had his full attention on her nephew, then came up under him as she had the first man; he ducked sharply, only to catch the polished end of the bo under his ear. The horse, startled, took off down the road and the man toppled from it some distance away.

  Suddenly it was all over; Lialla leaned against Robyn, eyes closed, making rope from Thread. Aletto was moving from Sikkreni to Sikkreni, watching expressionlessly as the three-strand plaited stuff wound itself around wrists and ankles and knotted tightly. Chris stood guard over the three men he'd dispatched, bo at the ready. Edrith came out of the woods, bo trailing behind him, and placed himself next to Aletto. Dahven, sword in hand, came back to where Jennifer waited, standing over the still-unconscious Firsi. “I fear I owe you a second apology,” Dahven said. “But I think you must be mad, talking like that to a man as angry as he was."

  Jennifer laughed; Firsi groaned. “I'm no madder than you, and not half as crazy as Chris. Did you hear him? I was simply getting this one angry enough to do something stupid, and he did. And I didn't walk into the middle of the whole pack of them to pick up a new sword the way you did."

  "Yeah, that was pretty nifty,” Chris said. “I really like your style, reminds me of that guy in the movies—whatsisname, you know, Jen, played privateers and Robin Hood and all. I am really impressed, I thought that kind of fighting was only in old movies."

  "You have to ignore them,” Lialla said faintly. She'd finished making rope and was leaning on Robyn, who wrapped both arms around her. “They use these words—"

  "Ah, but I know what movies are,” Dahven said cheerfully. “Jennifer told me.” He sobered. “What are we going to do with them?” He gestured. “We can't simply leave them like this, can we?"

  "I would certainly like that,” Jennifer said flatly. She sighed. “A three-strand rope unfortunately won't keep them here for very long. But we haven't much of the real stuff, have we, Edrith?"

  "No—but Dahven's right, we can't leave them helpless. Why do I think this sounds familiar?” he added plaintively. “I have a suggestion this time, however.” He knelt next to Firsi and tugged at the man's hair. “I know you heard that; you were making enough noise a moment or so ago, an
d you don't breathe like an unconscious man. I would like to propose a truce."

  Firsi gazed at him for some moments, finally shrugged. “I've seen you, and your accent is Sikkreni. I cannot place you."

  "That isn't important,” Edrith said. “Listening is. Even you must have reasoned by now that you aren't able to beat us by force. You must also realize that once we've gone on, you will be behind us. I have seen maps and spoken to men who know this road well; there simply is no way you could get around us to set an ambush. Which means if you persist in following you will yourself be walking into an ambush, because we will certainly be watching for you from now on. And if you come against us by force, you'll only gain another bruise or two to go with the previous ones. A sensible man would give it up."

  "He's right, you know,” Dahven said mildly. “You've lost any surprise you might have had; even catching us short, you got nowhere. And next time, my friend, I won't be so trusting of your good will. And,” he grinned widely and held up the sword he'd taken, “next time I'll have a proper piece of Sikkreni steel in my hand, and I do swear, Firsi, if you so much as come near us again, I'll run you through where your heart should be. Go back to Sikkre, tell my brothers you couldn't find me.” The smile faded. “Better still, give them a message: Tell them I'll come back at a time I choose. And we will talk.” He turned and walked away; Jennifer went with him.

  Enardi was behind the tent, hastily and sloppily loading bags into the wagon. He was pale and looked very frightened. “Jen? Is it over? Eddie said it was all right to come out of hiding but not to let them see me. Is this okay?"

  "Everything's under control,” she assured him. “Here, I'll start rolling the blankets. Stay back here; no one will see you. That was very sensible of Edrith."

  "He said in case the Emperor came down on Dahven, it might be better if no one knew I was part of it; there might be sanctions against Father.” He shoved a pack under the seat, hesitated. “Did I do all right?"

  "That was you making all that noise in the woods?” Jennifer asked. He nodded. “You distracted them; it sounded like we'd brought a whole army with us."

  "That was Chris's idea,” Enardi admitted. “Since I didn't know how to fight yet. It was a movie, he said—a play of sorts, about a thief who thought other thieves were after him, so he pretended to be many different men, all armed and deadly.” He grinned rather abashedly. “Chris also said the thief ran when it seemed to him that his scheme failed and that I was to remember that, too."

  "God,” Jennifer said devoutly.

  Enardi paused, hands full of Robyn's pots. “It was all right, really?"

  "It was all right. Chris's mind—well, get on with it. Dahven, how do you feel about saddling horses?"

  4

  They were on the road within the hour. Lialla—who had stood silent among the fallen Sikkreni guardsmen while the others finished packing and while Edrith dealt with fourteen pairs of boots and fourteen horses—took the reins of her mount from Robyn and stepped across to look down at Firsi, who glared up at her. “The ropes will hold another hour or so, then dissolve. You'll find your boots a ways up the bank of the stream; they haven't been damaged. Nor have your horses."

  "You'll find them a short distance back down the road,” Edrith said, “the way you came."

  "If you're sensible, you will continue that way yourselves,” Dahven said. “But next time we meet, Firsi—” The man mumbled something Jennifer couldn't quite catch; Dahven laughed, and one of the lower-ranked men said, “By all the little warm sand gods, Firsi, let it go!"

  "Yes, Firsi, let it go,” Dahven said evenly. “And take a message back to Sikkre. Tell my brothers I send my love. They want to see me again, and soon? They will, I promise you. And in case they prefer I not return at all—however they intend that to happen—well, tell them they won't be rid of me so easily.” He wheeled the horse around and set off down the road at a canter. Aletto followed, Robyn at his side, Lialla at his other side and a little behind him; Chris and Edrith took up the rear, which blocked the guardsmen's view of the wagon and its driver. Jennifer stayed behind for a moment until the captain of the Sikkreni looked at her; he was reluctant to meet her eyes—something to do with being beaten twice, she thought. By anyone.

  "You and I had best not meet again in the near future,” she said flatly. “For your own sake. If we do, it'll be because you're still after him. It's possible he still holds a little trust in his brothers and doubts you'd murder him at their asking. Don't even bother to deny that's what you intend. Next time I swear I'll kill you. Don't dare to doubt I'm capable."

  She was about to ride away when he finally answered her. “I don't doubt that. Two of the men here with me had sand in their boots a few days back—Bez sand. I wonder you'd dare pretend you never saw them before."

  Jennifer shrugged. “It was dark on that beach."

  "You killed their captain."

  "To save my own life. And Dahven's.” Silence. “And you know it. Another thing: I don't want him for Sikkre—I can see you don't believe me. But he wants what is rightfully his, and I'll do everything I can to see he regains it. Don't get between me and mine, as the man in Bez tried to do. You'll live longer.” And then she did turn and ride away. Her back prickled; the men behind her were very quiet. She was glad when the slight grade in the road crested and she was out of their sight.

  The others rode close to the wagon, except for Edrith who'd gone back the other way with a long lead line of horses; Jennifer momentarily worried about him. But if there had been other Sikkreni with the company of fourteen, surely they'd have come in to rescue their friends at once. And Edrith was no fool; he'd avoid the Sikkreni on his way back up the road. She drew a deep breath, her first in some time. Once again they'd come through against uneven odds; it surely couldn't last. Unless, she thought dryly, Dahven's brothers fired everyone with brains when they took over.

  Fortunately the mule was used to following the road and the horses, because Enardi was holding the reins but not actually doing anything with them; Jennifer thought he looked absolutely ill, and he had stuffed both hands between his knees. They still shook. She opened her mouth, but shut it again without saying anything. Enardi was enough like Chris that he wouldn't want her calling attention to him just now.

  Chris was watching him too, she noticed; after a few moments, he and Edrith began talking as though nothing were wrong with their shaken, too-pale friend. Eventually Enardi chuckled at something Chris said—rather raggedly, but he was coming out of it. Jennifer edged her horse forward, to where Dahven was riding. His face was blotchily red across the cheekbones, and sweat beaded his upper lip. “All right?” she asked.

  "Of course.” He considered this gravely, shook his head. “Actually, no."

  "I'm sorry,” Jennifer said. “That was a truly stupid thing to ask."

  "I didn't exert that much, you know.” He glanced at her sideways. “Just got myself a decent sword.” He grinned impudently and she laughed. “I truly must find out where Aletto bought that wretched blade, and see that the merchant goes into another business. He shouldn't be selling swords like that; someone might actually try to use one."

  "It wasn't so bad,” Jennifer said. Dahven stared at her. “The hilt didn't break. It served its purpose."

  "Funny woman. The steel itself couldn't cut a line in sand.” They rode in companionable silence for a while. “I actually thought I had to shield you from Firsi. Did you leave anything of him just now?"

  Jennifer grinned. “Unfortunately. I'm sorry I threatened you with violence earlier. Oh, I understand your reasoning, but I can't agree with it. All the same, you didn't know I could take care of myself. So—sorry."

  "You've done nothing else since I met you."

  "All the same. Enough men where I lived try to coddle their women—mostly as a means of keeping them second-class citizens, and keeping them from doing things. I have a low burning point on the subject—just so you know."

  "Now I know."


  "I don't say it isn't confusing; not everyone wants as much independence as I do. You have only to look at Robyn."

  Dahven turned in the saddle and did. “Well—yes. But some people aren't fighters by nature, are they? She isn't the only one, though; your young friends will have quite a task teaching Enardi."

  "God,” Jennifer groaned. “I was worried about bringing him in the first place—you know, worst-case scenario, he dies, Fedthyr boycotts Aletto, we all wind up eating cactus in the desert south of Sikkre.” Dahven laughed, shook his head. “It hadn't even occurred to me he'd be so shaken by a fairly minor fight. But we've grown so used to violence; even Robyn wasn't as upset as she'd have been once. That's terrible."

  "You aren't deliberately seeking it, you know.” Dahven touched her hand. She captured it and held it against her knee.

  "We could have refused to help Aletto—"

  "I doubt you would have."

  "God,” Jennifer said once more and ran a hand through her hair. “Probably not. But even Chris, with all his books and his games for some kind of reference, didn't realize how bad it might get."

  "Nor did I,” Dahven replied gloomily. “And I surely had more reason to be aware, knowing my brothers, my father—” He straightened, shifted in the saddle and went on in a determined change of subject. “How long have you been fighting with that long staff?"

  She thought about this. “Thirty—forty days? About that. Since a day or two after we left Sikkre, when Chris started training us—"

  "You're not serious."

  "Don't look so awed. Chris was trying to tell you in his own inimitable way; it's done with leverage and a few very basic moves. That's why Aletto can use it so well, why I can. And like Chris said, it's different enough to catch a swordsman off balance—a good one expects certain counters to what he's doing, and the oddness of the weapon throws him."