The Silver Bracers (Lady Blade, Lord Fighter Book 1)

by Sharon Green

  ''As long as my hand is now available, they don't have to,'' I said, straightening where I stood. "If what he says goes counter to all of Grail's teachings, then he can't be considered anything but a pestilence that needs eradicating. Let's all pay him a visit, and let him know what we learned from these helpers of his. Right after that I'll send him on his way."

  ''I think someone else should get to do the sending,'' a voice said, a male voice that hadn't spoken for the last couple of minutes. ''To keep me from feeling unneeded, you understand."

  ''But you are unneeded," I came back, turning my head to the fool who now stood a good deal closer on my left. "If you don't believe it, step out with me away from these people and I’ll prove it."

  ''I'm too hot, tired, hungry, and thirsty for games," he returned, giving me a pleasant smile. "We'll go on to the village, take care of putting out the rest of the trash, then sit down with a cup of brew and discuss anything you like."

  I was about to point out that a discussion wasn't what I had in mind, when I realized something really infuriating. My right hand had automatically begun to lift the staff, but begun was as far as I got. Another hand was on the staff from behind me, a much stronger hand that was holding it down. I'd let the woman's story distract me enough to give my enemy a chance to get a grip on the staff, and I'd had enough experience with him to know that that meant the weapon was no longer mine. I wanted to tell him how much I despised him, but the woman Indris was suddenly right near me, her hand reaching for my arm.

  "What's wrong with me, of course you two must be tired and hungry,'' she said, closing her hand on my arm in a gentle but firm way. ''You save our lives, and all we do in return is stand around bending your ears without once offering any sort of hospitality. I know my father will want you to be our guests, and I certainly do. Just come with us, the village isn't far."

  Her grip on me began to urge me along, the other women adding their agreement and encouragement, and there was really no reason to stand there arguing the possession of something I'd already lost. After no more than the briefest hesitation I let go of the staff and simply went with them, taking along no more than a truth I finally understood completely. No enemy can ever be nice, no matter how they twist things to make it seem otherwise.

  It took only a few minutes to walk to the village and all the way there Indris refused to let the conversation die, using the willing cooperation of the other women in an attempt to lighten my mood. They didn't know what trouble there was between their rescuers, but they seemed determined to try smoothing it over. I let their words simply float around me as I walked, hating the man I'd briefly fought beside, wishing the attackers had managed to do for him instead of the other way around. It was more than clear that he was afraid of me, afraid to let me get permanent possession of a weapon he knew damned well I would not hesitate to use on him. I'd been a mindless fool not to use the weapon while I had it, and would be sure not to be that stupid a second time.

  The village we came to was bigger than I expected it to be, and when someone mentioned its name, Sinder’s Down, I suddenly knew where I was. The city of Gensea was about half a day's ride to the south, and the villagers were my father's people. We drew stares as we walked up the main dirt street past the store, the tavern, and the smithy, and then we drew more hurrying men than stares. Questions demanding answers flew in our direction, replies were quickly given, and once the whole story was out, we found ourselves in the midst of a furious mob instead of a simple group of people.

  ''It's more'n time somethin' was done!" one man shouted to the rest, his hand a fist in the air. ''Are we gonna wait until the small children are attacked next? Are we men, or are we spineless cattle?"

  "How c'n you talk about doin' somethin' to a Servant o' blessed Grail?'' another man demanded in turn, as angry as the first but considerably more upset. ''We don't want our village damned to th' end o' eternity! We can't do nothin' more'n ask th' priest t' leave.''

  ''And if he won't go?" a third voice demanded, and then Kylin of Arthil was making his way toward the muttering men. ''If he refuses to go, all you'll have to look forward to is more of the same. Is this what you people really want?''

  ''You c'n afford t' talk," the second man came back, glaring at the stranger who was mixing into village business. ''You don't live here, an' it won't be you 'n yours who‘re damned. An' a follower o' Evon don't have no right talkin' t' them who follow Grail.''

  ''Why shouldn't those who follow Grail have the same rights as those who follow Evon?'' Kylin countered, looking around as he spoke. ''If a priest of Evon arranged what this so-called priest of Grail did, he'd never live long enough to decide he'd made a mistake. And would a real priest of Grail ever have done this? Doesn't this insanity go against everything Servants have ever taught before? You know your religion better than I do. Is sending men to attack helpless women something you've been taught to do by every priest you’ve had?"

  ''It never happened before this new one came," the first man spoke up, looking around at his fellow villagers. "I know it and you know it, and there ain't nobody who can say different. What I say is that he ain't no real priest of Grail, and we gotta get rid of him."

  ''You gonna take a chance o' bein' damned forever, Aik?" the second man asked the first, looking more as though he wanted to be convinced rather than wanting to argue ''Y' go against th' priest, that's wh't c'n happen.''

  ''If he's here talkin' for Grail, Limis, it don't matter none if I am damned,'' the first man answered, looking straight at his friend. ''If Grail ain't Grail no more, I don't want nothin' to do with what he changed to. And if he ain't no real priest of Grail, leavin' him here has gotta be the sin and blasphemy. I'm goin', and it don't matter to me none if you come or stay."

  The man Aik turned away then, but he didn't walk away alone. Most of the other men followed him without hesitation, and one of them was his friend Limis. Kylin graciously let them move ahead and then followed after, willing to let them see to their own affairs as long as they could. I took my own turn at following with Indris beside me, and the rest of the crowd came behind us.

  Grail's House had obviously been the modest construction it was in most villages, but as we came up to it I was able to see signs of rebuilding and enlarging going on. The new priest apparently wanted more in the way of comforts than his predecessor had required, and was having his followers make the necessary changes. Five men glanced up from the work 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. "I 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 reli
gion, 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 to whimper. 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," I said in a voice loud enough to carry, then began to make 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 stood 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 worshipping 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 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 I 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, with fear in his eyes, looked up into the face of the man who held him, 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. I could see he was trying to push me off balance again, but this time I 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.

  "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. I 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 alone 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, and then the silence was broken.

  ''This looks like a comfortable, nicely made house," my companion remarked from behind my left shoulder, no more than a casual comment. ''Spending the night here should 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, a
nd 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 again in greeting, and I felt relief at the thought that I 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 Evon'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."