by Sharon Green
The big Fighter settled back into his own chair, unaware of the fact that his thinking had already changed to brooding. He had a feeling deep in his bones that had nothing to do with advancing age, although he would have been happier with stiffening up as its cause. The feeling had always warned him of unpleasant things to come, but this time the duke had told him not to worry. If he worried anyway, could that be considered insubordination and disobedience? Traixe sighed, glad that at least he'd had the foresight to speak a few words of warning to his Fighters, about bracing against a possible storm. He had also told them what to expect if any of them should put a hand to the girl, even at her express invitation. As if there weren't enough problems to worry about. . . .
"What do you mean, she resigned?" the Fist leader Rullin thundered, causing the Company clerk, a man of proven courage and ability, to wish he was elsewhere. The Fist leader leaned his knuckles on the clerk's desk, which afforded an unimpeded view of the flames of rage flaring from the Blade. Behind Rullin three of the others of his Fist hovered menacingly, as though it were the clerk's fault that the girl was gone.
"Just what I said," the clerk repeated evenly, knowing better than to try backing off in a situation like that. "She came in here last night, asked to see her book, then wrote something in it. After she left I looked to see what she'd written, and found the resignation. That's about as official as it gets."
"Rull, what are we going to do?" one of the other men asked, in his own way even more agitated than the Fist leader. "Her gear is gone, her horse is gone - and now this!"
"It's all my fault," the big Blade answered, straightening away from the desk but not turning to the others. "If I'd stopped her last night… But it's too late for that now. All I can do is go after her."
"Leaving us two Blades short?" another of the three asked, more quietly than the first. "We'd need to break up the Fist until you got back."
"Which means we'll be better off going with you," the third put in, also calmly. "To help you rehearse what you're going to say to her, if nothing else. She belongs to us, too, you know."
Rullin led the way out of the clerk's office while he nodded to show that he did know, but what he didn't show was the relief he felt. He would have gone with or without the Fist, but with them along he would have the chance to relax and examine the very disturbing thoughts he'd been experiencing since the night before. He'd talk to Soft and Gentle when they caught up to her, all right, but what he would say might not be what the others were expecting.
Chapter 4
I made use of my bed chamber to get a couple of hours' sleep, and when I woke again I went out to the sitting room to find that someone had brought my saddlebags and gear. I took it all back into the bed chamber, stripped off the well-worn leathers I had on and washed, then got into my dress leathers with the silver trim. If nothing else I expected to be impressive at the feasting, enough so that the barons and counts guesting with my father would know who they were dealing with. He didn't need their approval before naming an heir, but their opposition could get to be annoying. I was combing my hair and trying to decide whether or not to band it when a knock came at my door, and when I went to open it found a small serving girl standing there holding a gown in both arms.
"The lord Traixe sends his compliments, my lady," she said with a curtsey, smiling from a round and plainly pretty face. "He said to say he knows you traveled without much in the way of baggage, and would therefore like to offer you this gown for the feasting tonight. It was made for one of his daughters but somehow came out much too long, and then the seamstress died and his daughter was afraid to wear it even if it were shortened, and - He said you wouldn't mind."
The gown she held was a gleaming silver with jet black panels alternating, as beautiful a creation as any to be found in the feasting halls of the north. At another time I wouldn't have minded wearing it in the least; nothing but leather can get very tiresome after a while, but that was the wrong occasion for telling everyone how womanly I was. First they had to meet the Blade, and then they would have less difficulty getting along with the woman.
"Please convey my thanks to Lord Traixe, and say that I would feel honored if I might borrow the gown at another time," I told the girl, watching the smile fade from her face. "I've already dressed for tonight's feasting, and I'm really not in the mood to change again."
"Oh, but my lady, you can't go like that!" the girl exclaimed, close to being horrified, her brown eyes wide. "The other ladies will all be gowned, and the duke will be - "
"Very glad for the difference," I finished firmly, grateful for the sleep I'd had. If the girl's reaction was any indication of what I was about to face - which it probably was - I was sure to need all the self-control I could muster. My father was certain to be annoyed if I ended up inviting one of his guests to join me and my sword outside.
The girl looked to be ready to continue the discussion, so I gave her a friendly smile and closed the door in her face, then went back to combing my hair. Having spent half my life in the north meant I had learned to look at things in the northern way, but that didn't mean I'd totally forgotten how those of the south viewed them. Members of the lesser nobility tended to be very rigid in their beliefs and habits, the women just as much as the men, which meant my father and I might have something of a struggle ahead of us before I was accepted. If I stood up to them stubbornly enough they would have to accept me or challenge me, so I had to make sure they were more than reluctant to give the challenge. The game-playing would have to be balanced as carefully as a battle attack, but I was determined to see it work out.
The one lamp I'd lit in my bedchamber had been straining at the dimness for a while, but I didn't notice it until I went back out to the sitting room. All the lamps were lit in there, and a fire laid in the hearth as well, and the serving girl who had come to my bedchamber door earlier was moving around straightening things that didn't need to be straightened. There was no sign of the gown she'd had, but when she turned her smile was back in place.
"My lady, there's been word from your father the duke," she said, coming across the carpeting toward me. "When you've finished dressing he asks that you join him for a few moments before the feasting, and has sent someone to bring you to him. He's a messenger and he's waiting outside with the Fighters, and - Are you really going to wear that sword?"
Her eyes had gone wide and rounded again and she'd stopped about five feet away, as though debating whether it would be safe to come any closer. Or maybe it was a matter of taste that put her off, and she didn't think a black swordbelt went well with black and silver leathers.
"I hadn't realized the custom had changed," I told the girl, deciding it might be best to find amusement in everything that was said to me for as long as I could. "Aren't members of the nobility still expected to wear their usual weapons to a feasting? In case they need to be called on to defend the castle in the event of an attack?"
"But of course that's still the custom," the girl answered, blinking at me in confusion. "There hasn't been an attack for years and years, but - Don't you know that's only supposed to apply to the men?"
"It is?" I asked, trying to make my eyes go as wide as hers. "Well, what do you know? Maybe in that case I'd be best off first asking my father. The messenger he sent is outside, you say?"
Her nod was very relieved and satisfied, saying she was glad she'd told me something I hadn't known. She was a good deal better than the servant I'd had during my last visit, but I intended speaking to Traixe as soon as I saw him. If he couldn't find one who was difficult to shock, I'd do without a girl altogether.
The hall outside had five men instead of four, and the older man who wasn't a Fighter did a double-take when I left my apartment. He had so obviously been expecting someone in a gown that it really was funny, and then he made it better than the serving girl had.
"By all the gods, my lady, you're supposed to be dressed," he blurted, his round and pudgy face showing how appalled he was. The
rest of him was quite a bit like his face, and he looked up at me from the midst of his own finery.
"Evon help me, do you mean I've come out naked again?" I demanded in turn, quickly crossing my arms in front of me. "I'm so terribly embarrassed, and oh! What you must think of me!"
The man suddenly didn't seem to know what to think about anything, and the chuckling coming from the four Fighters of my bodyguard only helped to turn his face ruddier than it had been. When he settled on affronted dignity he drew himself up, and then seemed doubly upset that he still didn't match my height.
"That was quite amusing, my lady," he allowed, etching a smile on his face to show that he really did have a sense of humor. "Sir Fonid has spoken of the sharpness of your wit, and as always he's quite correct. Am I to take it that you mean to attend the feasting just as you are?"
"You may take it, keep it, or give it away if you like," I answered with a pleasant, friendly smile, disappointed that he hadn't managed to put a third "quite" into the speech. "You're here to show me to my father?"
"Of course, Lady Sofaltis," he said in a stiff and brittle way, bowing to cover his expression. He had briefly forgotten the only reason he was there, and resented the fact that I'd reminded him of it. "If you will follow me, please."
He led off down the hall and turned right, going toward my father's wing of the castle, and just the way I followed him my bodyguards followed me - or at least three of them did. The fourth moved out ahead to walk just behind the round, unjolly messenger, an eyes-ahead who would probably be the first to fall if there happened to be an attack. None of us really expected there would be an attack, not right there in the castle, but that only goes to show how complacency can ruin even professionals who should know better.
If the two doors on either side of the hall hadn't been opened just at the same time, we would have had no warning at all. The hall was broad in that wing, the carpeting old but still thick, most of the rooms left unused unless there was a royal visit with an entourage to put up. The wall lamps had been lit and left that way, obviously to keep us from becoming suspicious, but the Fighters of my bodyguard must have been just as used to passing doors there that stayed closed as I was. The sound of the doors being thrown open just as we passed them made us all reach for our hilts, and then the fight was on.
How do you describe a fight between five defenders and four times their number or more in awkwardly swinging but grimly determined attackers? My first thought was to wonder where the hell they all could have come from, but that was a question to be answered at another time. The men all wore homespun with small swatches of leather pinned to them, and the ones who swarmed in front of me didn't stand very long. I had the fleeting impression that they weren't terribly eager to face me, for which I couldn't blame them, but the wide hall wasn't so wide that they had much of a choice. We fought almost in each other's laps, my bodyguard swallowed up fast in the raging torrent of bodies, each of them probably as alone and surrounded as I was.
I didn't realize how wordlessly quiet the fight was until I heard a shout and the pounding of boots on carpeting above the clatter of steel, obviously a sizable group coming to join the elbow-to-elbow melee. I had managed to put my back to a wall hanging before anyone had found the opportunity to swing at me from behind, and was spending most of my time keeping the men in homespun from charging in on me. One or two of them had tried throwing their lives away to a purpose by attempting to impale themselves on my sword - which might have kept my blade entangled long enough for the others to reach me - but I wasn't fighting my first or second battle. After I'd cut down the first of them to try the ploy the others had given up on it, but when they heard the approach of a relieving force they grew even more frantic than they had been.
I honestly don't know how long I would have stood against them then if they'd been even slightly more skilled with the swords they held. I'd whittled them down to half a dozen or less, but still couldn't attack without exposing my back to their friends. Defensive fighting usually does very little more than give your opponent a chance to find an opening through that defense, but you don't attack in a situation like that - especially without mail - unless it's to a purpose or your life depends on it. They all began beating at me with their weapons, as though they thought they were holding sticks instead, and only the heavy sweep of my blade kept them from rushing forward as they struck. Then the newcomers reached us with shouts of outrage, and the attackers, almost as one, turned and threw themselves at the new Fighters.
Needless to say, it was only a matter of seconds before there was no one left standing who didn't have my father's colors on the left side of his tunic. The newcomers had been more of Traixe's Fighters, and their leader stormed up just a little behind them from what was probably a different direction, not realizing that his shouted orders were coming too late. Traixe was trying to tell his men to keep at least a couple of the attackers alive for questioning, something they should have thought of on their own and might have if they hadn't been so outraged. All of the attackers had escaped the need to worry about being asked anything awkward, and when Traixe saw that, the expression on his face made some of his men look as though they were envying those who littered the floor.
". . . damn' fool by-blows who use mush for brains!" Traixe was muttering as he came up to me, furious but still inspecting me closely. "Are you hurt in any way at all, Sofaltis? If you aren't it can only be because Evon stood as your shield and guided your blade - as well as having been your teacher."
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 these particular circumstances.
"Traixe, they couldn't have gotten behind him!" I protested, 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."
He turned away to the Fighters who were searching bodies in an effort to see if they could learn 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.
