Oathblood

OATHBLOOD

Tarma watched her two favorite pupils enter the ring -- a simple circle of paint on the floor of the salle -- with a critical eye. The first, a blonde whose hair was confined in a tail and bound with a bright blue headband, stood about even with Tarma's chin, but the second, whose dark mane was plaited in two braids wound severely around her head, was even shorter. It wasn't often that Jadrie faced off against an opponent smaller and younger than she; at the age of twelve, Kethry's eldest daughter was more likely to find herself paired with Tarma's oldest pupils, two and three years her senior and correspondingly taller. Jadrie was by no means an extraordinary fighter by Shin'a'in standards, but she was quite good, and she had been tutored by Tarma from the time she first evidenced an aptitude and interest in warrior-training. That had been at the tender age of four -- though naturally she had not been given weapons, even practice weapons, until she was eight and had already demonstrated steadiness and responsibility by taming and training her first horse. Most of Tarma's pupils never had the benefit of such early training, so Jadrie was naturally far in advance of even some much older than she.

Kira was the exception to that; her father, the now -- Archduke Tilden, King Stefan's former Horsemaster, gave his children access to some surprising teachers. At the age of three, on the sound principle that taking lessons with a former entertainer would be play rather than work, Kira and her twin sister had gotten a retired professional acrobat and contortionist as a tutor, and at six, along with the usual schooling, lessons given by a professional dancer had been added. At eight, on her own initiative, Kira had begun training with her father's Weaponsmaster, and now, at ten, she and her twin were here, with Tarma, Kethry, and Jadrek.

But Kira and her twin Merili were both extraordinary children, each in her own fashion.

They were not identical twins; in fact, if they had not been born at the same time, their father often joked that he would have suspected his wife of some infidelity. Ash-blonde Merili was as delicate and feminine as her mother, but with her father's eyes, although in Merili the expression was of sweetness and utter innocence -- Kira was tough, wiry, tall for her age, with straight brown hair and eyes of an incredible violet that had never appeared in either family to anyone's knowledge.

But unusual things happened in their family; Tilden had seen more than enough not to worry about inconsistency in hair and eye color. Shortly after Kethry and Jadrek had wed, Tilden had married a former bodyguard, who, despite her frail appearance, had more than once broken the necks of assassins with her bare hands. Her early training had begun with acrobatics and dance; hence, she had seen to it that her daughters had at least that much in the way of physical schooling.

But Kira had something more than mere training; she was a prodigy, the kind of student every teacher prays to have once in his or her life.

Merili was a graceful dancer and loved the art, was already an accomplished needlewoman, was fascinated with languages and had a strong interest in herbalism. She couldn't have been more unlike Kira, but the bond between them was unbreakable; and where her twin went, there she was. So when the Archduke enrolled Kira in Tarma's school for would-be young warriors, Merili had come along. She worked out in physical exercises with her sister and the rest of Tarma's students, studied nonmagical courses with Kethry's students, and continued other studies with Jadrek, getting as fine an education here as she would with her private tutors. Tilden had already had several marriage offers for her, but Merili had already met the eldest son of the Queen of Jkatha, and the two had formed an early attachment so strong that many suspected it to be a lifebond. What with the Archduke's holdings already lying on the Rethwellan-Jkatha border, and the King of Rethwellan wanting very much to strengthen ties between the two countries, the match seemed an ideal one. So although a formal betrothal had not been announced, it was very, very likely that Prince Albayah would wed Merili as soon as both came of age.

"And I'll go as Merili's bodyguard," Kira always chimed in, whenever the subject came up.

It seemed to Tarma that there could be no better solution to the Archduke's surfeit of girl-children. There was one older than the twins (already making a name for herself as a scholar) and three younger, one of whom was likely mage-talented, though at the tender age of three it was difficult to say how talented.

And why not? Being a bodyguard certainly runs in the family, Tarma thought, as she watched Kira and Jadrie testing each other in the circle. Jadrie was having some difficulty adjusting herself to an opponent so much smaller than she, but Kira far outstripped anyone else her age, and Tarma didn't trust any of the older (exclusively male) pupils to keep their tempers when a child so very much younger scored a touch on them. They could accept Jadrie scoring points; they could always salve their pride by telling themselves that she'd had the benefit of Tarma's schooling since the cradle. But Kira (supposedly) had no more advantages than they, and that made losing to her triply painful. The current crop of students older than Jadrie were all noble-born -- it would be a lucrative season for the school -- and they found it hard to forget that pride has no place in the training-ring.

:Or outside it,: Warrl added, echoing her thoughts. :But this is their first season with us; after the holidays and a thorough lecture or two from their fathers' Weaponsmasters, they'll come back in a properly humble frame of mind.:

True, Furface, she thought back at him, chuckling to herself. She interviewed the parents of prospective students very carefully, and at holiday time sent home letters of evaluation and instruction timed to reach the parents at about the same time the students did. This year's lot wasn't bad, but the older boys all shared the regrettable certainty that their age and sex meant superiority in the ring over younger, smaller, or female opponents. Tarma's letters of instruction this year carried an admonition about that -- and the caution that underestimating a smaller or female opponent could get them seriously dead if they were permitted to hold onto that delusion.

These were all oldest sons, extremely precious to their families (or they wouldn't be here), and it was unlikely that the parents would ignore Tarma's admonition.

And if they did -- or attempts at correction didn't "stick" -- there was always the second season to knock some sense into them. They would be here for at least two seasons, and maybe more, and none of Tarma's pupils ever cherished such ridiculous notions past the second season.

She privately felt that it was doing Jadrie good to have a little competition from someone other than her siblings. It was also doing her good to have not one, but two girlfriends. She'd begun showing more interest in things besides fighting and riding, much to Kethry's relief. Tarma was looking forward to having the twins here for at least another three or four years, and so was Jadrie.

She checked Jadrie, who was about to land a blow, with an admonition of "Jadrie-high." Jadrie flushed, and signaled for a rest. Kira grounded her point, and Jadrie turned to her teacher.

"Ha'shin, I'm having a lot of trouble with that," she said, honestly, giving Tarma the Shin'a'in honorific that meant "teacher."

"What do you do when your opponent is so much shorter than you are? She's scored five times on me, and I've only managed once!"

"Four-" Kira corrected. "That rib cut wasn't more than a graze; if these had been real, I wouldn't even have marked your armor, so it hardly counts."

Jadrie gave her friend a quick glance of gratitude, then turned her attention back to Tarma.

Tarma looked both girls over, and decided that they'd had a good enough bout that she could legitimately give them a rest. Both of them were panting, and Jadrie's face was sweat-streaked. "Good question, and time for a demonstration," Tarma told them, then raised her voice. "Justin, as soon as you're ready to break, I can use you. Demonstration time."

Justin Twoblade, who was sparring with one of the older boys, waved his free hand in acknowledgment. Three moves later, and the boy was disarmed; as he shook his stinging hand, Justin strolled over to Tarma's ring, waving his hand to summon all of his pupils to come watch the demonstration.

"Jadrie wants to see how someone works against a much smaller opponent," Tarma told him. Justin nodded, and his craggy features showed none of the amusement Tarma knew he felt at the moment.

"As long as we're going at quarter-speed, Sword-sworn," he replied, his face as sober as a priest's. "I remember the time three seasons ago when you used Ikan in the same demonstration. You may be Sworn to chastity, but I've barely begun my family."

Tarma suppressed a grin. "All right, for Estrel's sake I'll spare you," she said, and went down on one knee, then on guard. This put her head just about at Justin's beltline, which should have been a handicap for her -- but as she then demonstrated, even at one-quarter speed, she still made Justin work to defend himself and score on her.

But what she wanted her students to watch was what Justin did, not her -- for even Kira might one day have to defend against someone smaller than herself. When she grounded her point, signaling the end of the bout, she saw with satisfaction that both girls had their eyes still locked on Justin's hand and wrist.

She wiped sweat from her forehead with her free hand, and Justin extended his to help her to her feet. "Jadrie and Kira, another bout, now that you've seen a demonstration," she directed. "Justin, if you'd supervise them, please, I'll take Larsh, Hesten, and Belton and work on those disarms and counters."

Since Hesten was the young man that Justin had just disarmed, the other instructor let a brief grin flicker over his face when the aforementioned students couldn't see it. That was a common tactic among the three instructors; when one had administered a rebuke in the form of a painful defeat, one of the others would take over that student and work with him, so that the student didn't have the incentive to try and get back at the instructor. She'd seen this one coming for the last few days; Hesten was good on offensive work, but seemed to think that the best defense was a good offense. She judged that he'd need a couple more lessons to get over that particular fault, and she and Justin would have to take turns in administering those lessons.

She'd hired both Justin Twoblade and his partner Ikan Dryvale the second year the school had been in operation. She and Kethry had known the pair for years, and had known that they were steady enough in temper to be trusted with young students. Ikan currently was out running the rest of the students around the obstacle course; he had all of the younger boys today, since he had a knack with the youngest pupils that was only matched by Tarma herself. To avoid creating the appearance of "favorites" and to keep their students on their toes, the three instructors switched pupils on a regular basis and an irregular schedule, just as young Shin'a'in children were taught.

So Tarma resolutely kept her attention on the three oldest boys and paid no heed to what Justin was doing with Jadrie and Kira. Hesten was still smarting from his defeat, both physically and mentally, and she worked to get him and the other two back to the business at hand.

But they were all distracted, and Hesten clearly resented the fact that "his" instructor had gone to help mere girls.

"Look," she finally said with exasperation, "Hesten, just what do you think you're here for?"

The boy looked at her with a touch of arrogance shaded with suspicion. "You're teaching me swordsmanship-" he began, but she cut him off.

"Wrong," she said with finality. "I'm teaching you how to stay alive. So is Justin. There's a difference."

"But-" the boy looked ready to start an argument, but once again Tarma cut him off.

Time for the annual Lecture, I think.

"No buts' about it," she said flatly. "I've spoken at length with your parents. I know what they want from me, and I know what I told them, the kind of training that I could give you." She moved in closer with every word. "As a boy, your father had the best training with highly-recommended instructors, and is a fine swordsman -- and a rotten fighter. And he knows it. He can perform every pretty move in the catalog, and can't defend himself against a common merc with a pike. That's why he limps now, and if he hadn't been lucky enough to get into the hands of a real Healer, he wouldn't have been around to sire you."

Hesten's eyes went wide with shock; evidently his father had not discussed that particular moment in his life with his son.

Tarma continued without pity. "I know what happened, because I was there and I saw it happen, when we all put King Stefanson on the throne. He wants you to have the advantage that he didn't -- training with real fighters, not sword-dancers -- so that if Rethwellan needs your sword, you stand a decent chance of coming home intact. Do you understand me?"

That last sentence was spoken from a distance of mere thumb-lengths as she stared down into the boy's eyes, and saw the first flickers of respect -- and yes, fear. She backed off a little, and looked at all three of the boys. "Just what do you know about me?"

Hesten looked at his two fellows, and took it upon himself to answer, putting on a bravado to cover his betrayal of fear. "You're a Shin'a'in barbarian, there's some songs and tales that might be about you, but you never said anything, and neither did my father, but if you really were with the rebellion-"

Tarma smiled crookedly, a smile with no trace of humor. "I was learning swordwork as early as Jadrie, and I'd killed my first man when I was just about your age, Larsh. That, by the way, is not a boast, and it was not in a fair fight. And someday, if you deserve to hear it, I'll tell you the whole story. I was a freelance mere from the age of seventeen and a good one, and believe me, the stories you have heard about me and Keth aren't but a quarter of the truth. Justin and Ikan have similar histories." Her smile turned feral. "The reason you weren't told is because both your parents and I know you boys would have had one of two reactions -- you'd either have disbelieved it, figured it was boasting, and ignored what we tried to hammer into you, or you would have believed it and decided to prove you were better than us. Neither reaction is conducive to learning anything, which is why you are here -- not to prove that at your tender age you already know better than your teachers."

The boys all had the grace to look ashamed. Larsh looked down at his feet.

"As to why your parents chose me -- and J agreed to take you as students -- it's because they wanted something very specific for their firstborn sons. If you are called on by your King to go to war, if you are forced to lead your own people against brigands or bandits, or if you are forced into a position where you might fight to preserve your own life, you will have the best possible training to meet those situations." She dropped her smile and looked stern. "And do you know why?"

Hesten shook his head.

"A mercenary knows only one trade -- killing -- and one goal -- to stay alive to collect his pay. No matter what you've heard, most mercs don't like killing, so they make a point of being very, very good at it, and very efficient, so as to get it over quickly. Most mercs do like being alive, so they make a point of learning everything they can to stay that way. That includes a great many things that are not considered 'fair play' by the standards of people lucky enough to have been bom in your rank and class." Hesten's mouth firmed in a stubborn line; she knew he was the leader of this group, and she would have to convince him before the other two would see sense. He had unfortunately been infected with that noble nonsense known as chivalry; hopefully not for so long that he couldn't be cured of it.

"If and when you take the field in a battle, or if someone decides he doesn't like you and sends an assassin out after you, that is the kind of person you are going to have to defend yourself against. I know that. Justin and Ikan know that. Most importantly, your parents know that, and that is why you are all here. When you go home, you can take all the lessons you want with fashionable instructors, and learn pretty tricks to impress your friends, but when you are here, you'd better keep your mind on the fact that we are going to teach you how to stay alive, even if we have to half kill you to do it!"

Hesten looked even more rebellious. "Oh, really now, lady!" he objected. "Assassins? Maybe where you come from, but not here. Things like that just don't happen in civilized lands like Rethwellan!"

She got some unexpected support then, from the hitherto-silent Belton. "Yes they do, Hesten," the boy snapped, then dropped his eyes before Tarma's.

Oh, really?

"Belton is right," she agreed, following up on her advantage, quickly, before Hesten could get over his surprise. "There are a lot of things that go on that Kings and Princes have no idea of. I know for a fact of two people at least in Rethwellan who are making a very fine profit from assassination. And when you have bodyguards of your own, I'll make a point of giving them that information so they'll know who to watch out for."

"Why not give it to us directly?" asked Larsh, surprised.

Once again, to her surprise, it was Belton who answered before she could. "Because some day we might be tempted to use it," he said, face totally closed.

Hesten opened his mouth to protest, then stared into Belton's eyes and looked properly abashed. Belton's eyes were opaque, and she couldn't read what was in them -- but she had the suspicion that what she had said had struck forcibly home with him. Well, sooner or later he'd tell her; they all did. Kethry might be the more motherly in appearance, but somehow most of the youngsters, the boys especially, came to Tarma when they had fears that needed soothing or confessions to make. Perhaps it was simply because they assumed that she would never be shocked by anything they said.

"And," she added, allowing her voice to soften with good humor, "If we can possibly do so, we intend to make sure we all have a good time while we're doing this. Now, I just delivered this particular little lecture for a reason. In a couple of days, you'll be going back to your families for winter holidays. If you really and truly don't want to learn what we have to teach, you have only to tell your parents, or us, and you won't have to come back here. I know this is a hard school -- but we don't accept just anyone, and we don't want someone here who doesn't want to be here. If you're having trouble wrapping your mind around the idea of being trained like a common -- or perhaps I should say, uncommon mercenary, I can understand that. But bear in mind that you are not here as a punishment from your parents; you're all here because they truly, deeply, profoundly care for your well-being."

Hestin bit his lip. "But we aren't exactly being trained like mercenaries, are we?" he ventured. "I mean, we don't spend more than half our time drilling and all-"

Tarma nodded. "Right, exactly right. Your parents want a special education for you, which is why you spend half your time in classes with Jadrek which seem to have nothing to do with fighting. You'll need them, not only to mark you as gentlemen of the highest order, but to make you better-educated than any other boys of your rank. If you stay, you'll not only be trained in personal defense, but you'll eventually be trained in strategy, tactics, and command, with an eye to serving the King as commanding officers, should he need you."

She didn't miss the sudden flash of interest in Hesten and Larsh's eyes.

"You'll also be well-rounded and well-educated noblemen, people whose opinions are sought after, and who are taken seriously. People who are given high office and great responsibility. And people who can take care, not only of themselves, but of those who depend on them, no matter what the situation."

Now she had Helton's full and unwavering interest, and the hooded eyes had come alive.

"But before that happens, you have a lot of work ahead of you." She paused, and smiled again. "You might be wondering why I'm giving you this speech now, instead of when you first came here. The reason is -- now you've had a full season here, and you know what I mean by work. You've had the full experience, as Keth would say. So -- are you ready for three to four more years of it? There's no shame in saying you aren't suited to this, not everyone is, and sometimes parents aren't very good at judging what their children are suited to. Hesten?"

"I'll be back," the boy said shortly, but with more than enough determination and respect in his voice to please Tarma.

"Larsh?"

"Absolutely." More anticipation than determination; that was what she had expected. Larsh would have made a good mercenary; he fit in here as well as any boy she'd had.

"Belton?" she asked, turning to the third boy, and was a little surprised at the vehemence of his reply.

"If they couldn't afford to pay you, I'd work in the stable to stay here!" came the fervent answer, and she blinked a little at the passion in his voice.

Interesting. Deep water there.

:As you suspected, there's a tragedy in his background, mindsib. I can't get anything more specific than that. I suspect a beloved relative may have been the victim of a feud or something of the sort.: Warrl seemed very interested. :If he doesn't tell you about it before he leaves, he will when he returns. He has just decided to trust you completely.:

That corresponded with her feelings about the boy; that he had been holding something back until this moment, testing her and his other teachers, looking for -- what? Some kind of flaw, she suspected. Whatever it was, only he knew, but she had no doubt she would find out.

"Now, back to work," she decreed. "There's still plenty of time before supper, and you haven't even broken into a good sweat yet!"

Supper was the best time of the day, so far as Tarma was concerned. Her pupils and Keth's generally ate breakfast and luncheon separately, because the mage-students were on a slightly different schedule and menu. Her students needed a great deal more to eat than the mage-students, and after rising at dawn for a run and a session of strenuous physical exercise, began the day with absolutely enormous breakfasts, then restoked their furnaces with equally enormous luncheons and afternoon snacks. The scholars and mage-students required far less in the way of fuel, some had decided on a purely vegetarian regime for themselves, and in any case, over-full stomachs often got in the way of mental concentration.

But by the time Tarma's pupils cleaned up, the mage-students were also finished for the day, and everyone met together for supper and study or amusement afterward.

Altogether, there were ten pupils in Tarma's school, a round dozen in Keth's, and two that were pure scholars, being taught by Jadrek. One of those was Kira's twin Merili, the other a "charity student" from their own village, a young boy who lived to learn. Jadrek intended to recommend him as Rethwellan Archivist-in-training when he finished with the child, the current Archivist having no wife or children to follow him. Of Kethry's pupils, one was her own son Jadrek, though it was likely he'd employ his knowledge as a Shin'a'in shaman rather than a White Winds mage -- the shamans being the only Shin'a'in permitted to use magic. Only Jadrie was in Tarma's group; the twins Lyan and Laryn were not particularly interested in fighting, and were learning only the basics every Shin'a'in should know. Like Jadrie, they had decided early that they wanted the Clan and the Plains, but they were completely horse-mad. On their own initiative, during the summer that followed the spring that Jadrie had tamed her first horse, they had secretly picked a pair of two-year-olds out of the Tale'sedrin herds and tamed them without any help at all. The Liha'irden horse-herders had seen them at it, of course, but since they weren't doing anything wrong, they were allowed to carry out their plan. Tarma privately suspected that the herders were very proud of the audacious young twins, though if they'd begun to ruin the horses, they'd have been punished for their audacity.

It was too soon to tell what the latest baby, Jendar, was going to rum out to be like -- Tarma's only clue was that he shack by his mother's side during every lesson, and only toddled off when she turned her hands to anything other than magic.

But with twenty-seven children of various ages crowded around the supper table, the evening meal was a noisy and amusing affair. No rules of silence were invoked, and the children were allowed to talk about anything they pleased and for this one meal, eat or not eat whatever they liked. At the beginning of each season, there were always a few bellyaches when students stuffed themselves with sweets -- one surfeit usually cured them of further foolishness, especially when the next day brought no sympathy, and no break from lessons. The only iron-clad rule was that there were to be no food fights. Tarma and Kethry had both gone without often enough that the idea of wasted food was intolerable. The one and only time that rule had been challenged, Kethry's combined solution and punishment had been swift and effective. The next day, she had scryed out a group of hungry shepherd-children in the hills. When everyone gathered for breakfast, and the savory meal was laid out on the sideboard -- when mouths were watering and appetites roused -- she transported every bit of that hot, tantalizing meal to those children, and presented the school with what the children would have eaten. Stale, hard bread and cheese rinds came as quite a shock to pampered children of noble houses. She did the same at lunch. At dinner, she made it very clear that she was prepared to continue sending their food "to children who appreciated it" if there was ever a repetition of the incident. The story had been passed to every new student since then, by word of mouth, and Tarma had no doubt that it had grown in the telling. It certainly guaranteed that there were no food fights again.

She noticed the three older boys had unbent and were treating Jadrie and Kira more as their equals than usual. This meant, of course, that instead of being ignored, the girls came in for teasing and surreptitious prodding and poking. For a while, they seemed to enjoy it, but when the sweet was served, they were clearly beginning to lose their tempers. She debated interfering, but Merili beat her to it.

"Weren't there supposed to be some gentlemen at this table, besides our teachers?" she asked Tarma pointedly, after a quick flash of a frown at Larsh.

"I thought so, but I haven't seen any," Tarma replied, hiding her amusement.

"That's too bad," Merili said with a dignity that was so funny Tarma nearly spoiled everything for her by laughing. "If there had been gentlemen here, I was going to ask them to come riding with me after dinner." She sighed and looked only at Tarma. "Well, if any gentlemen appear, the invitation will still be there."

The three older boys secretly worshipped their "Little Princess," and that put a stop to the tormenting. All through dessert, they remained on their best behavior, much to the relief of the other two girls. None of them wanted to fall under the Royal Disfavor, for Merili was as good-natured as she was pretty, and never minded helping when one of Jadrek's lessons proved difficult to conquer, or when something needed mending or embellishing.

As usual, the children inhaled their sweets; before many moments had passed, they had all scattered to the four winds to ride, continue last night's work on a pair of snow forts, or run off the last of their energy in games, until a candlemark before bathtime, when they would be herded to the library for study. That left the adults alone except for the baby, and they looked at each other, heaved a sigh of relief, and laughed.

"Does it get noisier every year, or is it my imagination?" Jadrek asked, prying Jendar's chubby fingers off the handle of a knife, and giving the boy his heavy silver bracelet to play with instead.

"Of course it gets noisier every year; there are more children every year," Ikan Dryvale replied, wriggling his finger in his ear as if to clear his hearing. "Even if you didn't take more students, Kethry would be providing the increase herself!"

"Oh, come now!" Kethry laughed. "You make me sound like a brood-hen!"

"I overheard you delivering the Lecture to the boys, Tarma," Justin interjected. "How did they take it?"

"We'll have them all back after Midwinter," she was able to tell him, with great satisfaction. "We'll still have to pound sense into their heads, but we aren't going to be the enemy anymore."

"Oh, really?" Ikan's eyebrows arched. "I wasn't all that sure of young Hesten. There's a strong streak of rebellion in that one."

"There always is in the smart ones," Justin pointed out, refilling his cup. "It was Belton I wasn't certain of. He hasn't completely trusted us since the day he arrived."

"Warrl says he does now," Tarma replied. Justin glanced over to the fireside, where Warrl was finishing his own dinner, and the kyree looked up and nodded in confirmation.

"Well, that's a relief," was all Justin said, and the conversation turned to other topics and other students.

As the servants finished clearing the table, leaving only the pitchers of drink, Tarma sat back in her chair at the foot of the table and pondered her "family" with a feeling of complete contentment.

Justin looked far more prosperous than he had in the old days; there were threads of gray in his blond hair, and his face was craggier, but other than that he carried his age lightly. That might have been due to Estrel, his wife, who sat beside him -- their baby Kethren was in the nursery asleep, where Jendar would be shortly. Estrel looked like what she was, a fresh-faced young shepherdess of a mere seventeen. What didn't show on the surface was a vast knowledge of herb-healing and midwifery, a very shrewd and clever mind, and an utter devotion to Justin. She first saw Justin at the school, where she and the other village younglings were taking short lessons in reading, writing, and figuring from Jadrek, who gave those lessons gratis. She had also been apprenticed to the village midwife, and had naturally come into close contact with Kethry.

Estrel had fallen in love with Justin immediately, and set about winning him for herself with a determination that surmounted each and every obstacle in her path. She fit in very well here, and was in charge of the nursery when Kethry was busy with her own students.

Justin and Estrel sat in the middle of the table on Tarma's right. Ikan sat across from them on the left.

His amber hair betrayed no gray yet, and if someone didn't know what to look for, he could be mistaken for a plowman. He still had utterly innocent blue eyes, and the face of a country-bred dolt straight out of the fields. That might have been why the younger boys responded better to him than to Justin; he didn't look nearly as intimidating. He had yet to settle down, distributing his favors to as many women as cared to fling themselves at him -- and plenty did.

Kethry and Jadrek sat at the head of the table -- and equal distribution of teachers ensured that mayhem at supper was kept to a minimum. Since they'd come "off the road" and settled down here, on the estate that King Stefanson had bestowed upon them for their service in getting back his throne, Kethry had allowed her hair to grow, as had Tarma. Kethry's had grown faster though, and it had already been much longer than Tarma's when they retired. Now, if she let it loose from the single plait she wore it in during the day, it would just brush the floor, a glorious waterfall of dark amber with red highlights. There was no sign of gray in it yet, although there were the faint beginnings of crow's feet at the comers of her eyes.

Jadreks hair had gone completely to silver-gilt, but all of the lines in his face now were those most often associated with pleasure rather than pain. He was both a handsome and a distinguished man, and between them, he and Kethry had produced some incredibly handsome children. Though he still suffered a bit in the winter from his old troubles, Estrel and Kethry kept the worst symptoms of his bad joints at bay.

And me-

:And you, mindmate. You are still as thin and tough as a whip, though a bit creaky in the joints yourself. There's a trace of white in your hair, but no sign of age on your face, and no sign of it in the ring, provided you don't do anything intolerably stupid. And no one would ever mistake you for anything but Shin'a'in, blood and bone. Great beak of a nose, golden skin, blue eyes, black hair, just like every other Clansib I've ever seen.:

She grinned, hiding it behind her cup. Thank you, Furball, for deflating any vestige of vanity I might have had.

Yes, the years had been very kind to all of them. About the only thing she could have wished for was that Ikan would settle down himself. Preferably with a spouse with true Healing talent; that was the one thing the school lacked, was a resident Healer.

:Be careful what you wish for,: Warrl cautioned, with a laugh behind his mental voice.

Oh? You know something?

:There's going to be a new Healing Priestess arriving tomorrow in the village. Same Order as Tresti was -- so there will be no difficulty at all if she decides to get married. I hear she's very pretty and very, very clever.:

What else did you hear? Tarma asked, sensing that Warrl was much more amused than his simple description would warrant.

:Only this; Father Mayhew has been warning the boys to mind their manners and keep their hands to themselves. He told his housekeeper that her Superior warned him that as a Novice she knocked a man unconscious with a piece of firewood for trying to take liberties. I'd say she isn't going to be the easy conquest the village girls have been.:

Tarma almost choked, and took a quick swallow to hide it. Well, well, well, so Ikan was finally going to meet his match!

:She'll either infuriate him or captivate him.:

Huh. Probably both.

Warrl yawned hugely and winked at her, then turned to the fire to warm his belly.

"Jadrek, have you got any word on when their escorts come to get the children?" she called into the next break in conversation. "We ought to tell them at bedtime."

"Your three oldest boys will be leaving in three days; their escort is due to arrive then. Three of Keth's children will be staying here over the holidays, and all of the rest with the exception of Kira and Merili will go out with a caravan coming in tomorrow and leaving the day after. Kira and Merili's escort will be here in four days." Jadrek sounded quite sure of himself, as well he should be; he had messengers traveling between himself and the escorts every day from the time they left the students' homes. He was taking no chances on a "false escort" presenting himself and making off with one of the children, for all of them were highborn enough to command significant ransoms.

"That'll cheer Kira up; she was afraid the weather would keep her here over Midwinter," Tarma said with satisfaction.

"Oh, but Jadrie will be devastated," Kethry replied. "Would you believe my little hoyden was looking forward to having Kira do her hair and Merili help her with a dress for the Midwinter feast?"

Tarma felt her jaw go slack with surprise. "Jadrie? A dress? Next thing you'll tell me is that she's trying to snare herself a boyfriend!"

Jadrek laughed. "Just wait until summer, Tanna, I think she's got her eye on that stripling shaman-" he paused for a moment, and his capacious memory supplied the name before Tarma could think of it. "-Ah'kela, that's it. Ah'kela shena Liha'irden. The one two years older than she is."

With the name came the face, and Tarma couldn't help but grin with acute satisfaction. Ah'kela was a handsome, and unaccountably shy adolescent, in training with Liha'irden's Chief Shaman. And if Jadrie did manage to snare him -- well, that solved the problem of where the new Clan Tale'sedrin was going to get its new shaman when the time came to form it up. Jadrek the younger certainly wasn't going to be old enough in time.

Ah, but that will give us a shaman-in-training under Ah'kela. Shamans are always in demand as spouses, and the twins will have no difficulty finding mates, not with every Liha'irden girl over the age of ten petting them and admiring their golden hair and green eyes ... ]adrie was the one that might have been too much for most boys, just as I was. Hah! I should have known she'd solve her own problems!

Justin burst out laughing, interrupting her reverie. "Tarma, you look like the most self-satisfied matchmaker I ever saw in my life!"

"It can't hurt to think about these things, can it?" she protested.

"Yes, but you look like a cat who's stolen an entire pitcher of cream," Dean teased. "You should see yourself!"

"Piff," she scoffed, and glared at Justin. "Just you wait until your babies are grown! If you don't turn out worse than me, I'll be greatly surprised!"

Estrel giggled, and Justin turned beet-red. "He already is, Tarma. He already is!"

She didn't elaborate, much to Justin's obvious relief, but Tarma could well guess. Like every male with strong bonds to his children, he was probably planning who was and was not a "worthy" prospective mate for his little boy, and worrying about the possible consequences. "Well, unless you want to lose your son and heir to the barbarians, better not plan on a betrothal to Jadrie -- or any other girl-child Keth may conjure up," she teased.

"And have you as an in-law?" he shuddered. "Perish the thought!"

She mimed throwing a dagger at him, and the evening broke up in laughter.

* * *

After the official "lights out" time, Kira waited until the last sounds of the grown-ups checking on all of the students faded, then for good measure, waited another one hundred breaths, before reaching up with her foot and poking the bottom of her twin's bunk. Merili had been waiting for that signal; she slipped out of bed and slid down to the floor as silently as a kitten, and the two of them wrapped warm robes around themselves and slid their feet into sheepskin slippers, using only the light of the embers in their fireplace to see by. The pockets of both their robes bulged, hinting at something interesting inside. As Merili rummaged a carefully-hidden package out of her wardrobe, wrapped in paper she had saved from lessons and patterned with berry-juice ink, Kira got a similar package from under her bed. With Kira in the lead, scouting every step of the way, they made their way down the dark hallway each with one hand trailing along the wall to guide her. Both of them had made this journey innumerable times before, and they slid their feet soundlessly along the smooth wooden floor.

When Kira's hand encountered empty air, she knew she had come to the staircase, and she warned her twin with the merest thread of a hiss. She bent to pull off her slippers, picked them up, and felt her way down with her bare toes a step at a time, pausing on the landing to put her slippers back on and hiss the "all clear" for Merili. She was glad to get her slippers back on; the floor was icy-cold and she wriggled her toes in the warm fleece while she waited for Merili.

When her twin's hand touched her arm in the dark, Kira led the way out into the second-floor hall, and onto the corridor where Jadrie and her twin brothers had their own rooms. Keeping to the left side of the hall, she felt her way along the wall. When her hand brushed the third door, she stopped and gave three very soft taps.

The door opened, swiftly and silently, and Jadrie grabbed both their hands and pulled them inside.

She had built up her fire to a cheerful blaze, had cleverly shrouded the window in a rug so that no light betrayed her, and had lit a single candle. As Kira and Merili took their places on sheepskin-covered cushions beside the fire, suppressing giggles, Jadrie rolled up a towel and stuffed it against the door sill, sealing off the crack at the bottom so that no light would leak out there either, to show that there was a cozy little clandestine party going on.

Only then did the older girl joined them, taking her own cushion and plumping herself down on it.

"There!" she whispered, looking very proud of herself. "We should be safe as long as the boys don't wake up." Then her face fell a little. "But this is probably the last chance we'll get to be together before you go home."

"Yes, but we'll be back soon enough! Look what I brought for our party-" Merili replied cheerfully, and began pulling handfuls of chestnuts out of the bulging pockets of her robe.

"I got apples," Kira supplied, pulling three luscious fruits from her previously-loaded pockets, as Jadrie arranged the chestnuts close to the fire to roast.

"Oh, good! I've got spiced cider, and I swiped some honeycakes from the kitchen before study," Jadrie said with satisfaction, pointing to the foot of her bed, where a jug with water beading up on its sides hid just behind the outer leg, and a plateful of slightly squashed honeycakes resided beside it. "And I've got Midwinter presents for both of you."

"Oh, but you open yours first!" Merili cried, ever generous, although Kira ached to see what hers was. "Here-" she thrust the bulky package at Jadrie, who needed no second urging to tear off the paper.

But Jadrie's reaction more than made up for the impatience Kira felt, and she giggled along with her twin at Jadrie's round eyes.

"Oh!" Jadrie squealed, shaking out the folds of silk and leaping up to try the dress against herself. "Oh! It's wonderful, Meri! How did you do it?"

The dress probably would have been scandalous by some standards, with its split skirt for riding astride. Merili had used Jadrie's Shin'a'in costumes and her own festival-dresses as patterns, and come up with a dress that combined recognizable facets of both. It was sewn of the pastel-colored silks thought appropriate for young girls in Rethwellan, but the embroidery on the bodice and hems, though executed in pale hues of blue, pink, green and soft yellow, was recognizably Shin'a'in in pattern and execution. The split skirt was a reasonable substitute for Shin'a'in breeches, the huge, fluttery butterfly sleeves were pure Rethwellan, but the sleeves could be pulled up and held out of the way by an embroidered band passed through them and along the inside of the back of the dress, and the "skirt" could be gathered at each ankle with separate embroidered bands. The bodice was low enough to satisfy the cravings of a girl wanting to be thought grown-up without being tooo revealing that it would arouse the ire of her mother.

"Here's mine," Kira said with satisfaction, handing her a neater, smaller package. And Jadrie exclaimed again, to find it contained a pair of soft, sueded ankle-boots, and a belt and sheath for her knife, all beaded with tiny crystal beads and freshwater pearls in the same Shin'a'in patterns as the embroidery of the dress.

"I-I don't know what to say!" Jadrie said, sitting down abruptly, still holding the dress to herself, with the belt and boots in her free hand.

"It was all Kira's idea," Merili offered, her eyes sparkling with happiness. "I wanted to do the dress, but she told me it would be stupid to make something you couldn't be yourself in, so Estrel helped me do something that was like your Shin'a'in clothes, and when Kira saw the colors I was doing it in, she got the boots and the belt and did the beading to match."

"I'm glad you like it," Kira added softly.

"Like it? I love it! I can't believe you did all this just for me!" Jadrie's face shone with happiness, and she put the dress down long enough in her lap to reach behind her and bring out two packages of her own. Hers were wrapped in the thin paper normally used for embroidery patterns, and Kira knew it was meant for Meri when the packages were opened. "This one is yours, Kira, and this is yours, Meri. I hope you like your presents half as much as I like mine!"

Meri looked significantly at her twin, and motioned for Kira to open hers first. Nothing loath, Kira removed the paper from her package to disclose a carved box. She opened the lid to find, nestled into the velvet lining, a very different sort of present in the shape of shining steel.

She gasped, hardly able to believe her eyes. Identical except for decoration to a set that Jadrie owned and Kira had lusted after ever since she saw them, it was a set of matching knives. A long-knife, just a scant thumblength from qualifying as a sword, a belt-knife for less lethal use, a set of throwing-knives and arm-sheaths to hold them, and a tiny boot-knife that slipped invisibly into the side of a riding boot. Jadrie's weapons were undecorated except for the Tale'-sedrin emblem of a stooping hawk carved into the hilts, but Kira's were ornamented with inlaid silver wire in an intricate spiral on the hilt, and had garnets inlaid in the pommel-nuts. Kira's throat knotted up, and tears sprang into her eyes, and when she looked up at Jadrie, she was completely unable to say anything.

Jadrie seemed to understand, and chuckled. "I asked Tarma if I could -- she said you'd earned them. I designed the decoration."

Now at last it was Meri's turn, as Kira held the precious package to her chest, half afraid they would vanish if she turned them loose. This was more than just a set of weapons -- this was confirmation of her dream, for a set of knives like this, with the addition of a sword, was precisely what a professional bodyguard would sport. So her teacher Tarma agreed with Kira's dream -- and so, presumably, did Kira's parents. There would be no separation from her beloved twin when Meri went to marry the Prince of Jkatha.

Meri's exclamation was as surprised and delighted as Kira's, as she opened her package with far more decorum than Kira had used with hers. Her box would be perfect for storing her embroidery materials, for it was unlined, and it contained fabric. Kira didn't see what it was that merited such delight -- it just looked like white silk to her--

Then Meri took it out of the box, and shook it out -- and out -- and out--

It must have been a dozen ells of silk so thin it was almost transparent, like mist made into fabric.

Then Meri saw what the folded fabric had hidden, and actually wept with joy.

"I can't believe you found it!" she said over and over, fingering the fabric and the embroidery silks of the purest white, a box of tiny freshwater pearls the size of pinheads, and silver thread as supple as the silk. "I can't believe you found it!"

"Found what?" Kira whispered under her breath to Jadrie, mystified, as Meri picked up each skein of thread and examined every strand with delight.

"It's the makings for a traditional Jkathan royal bridal veil," Jadrie replied, eyes sparkling. "The bride's supposed to provide the veil, and it's supposed to be of silk so fine the veil can pass through her wedding ring, and she's supposed to embroider it herself. Meri wanted to do things right for her Prince, but silk that fine is hard to come by, as Meri's been finding out." She shrugged, and grinned. "Shin'a'in connections can get you amazing things -- would you believe that Tarma got this from the Hawkbrothers?" She raised her voice. "You'll have to start embroidering that right away, won't you?"

"Absolutely," Meri said firmly. "I'll want to set the pattern so Mummy's maids can match it on my dress -- and then I'll only want to work on it when the light is good and strong."

"Well, work out the pattern you want, and don't worry about using up the pearls and the thread. I've got a good connection, and I can get you plenty more if you need it." Jadrie's grin got wider, if possible. "As you well know, it's the veil that's the hard thing to get hold of."

Meri shook her head, and carefully wiped the tears from her eyes to avoid spotting the silk. "This has been the best Midwinter ever!" she said. "I don't know how anything we get from our parents could be better than this-"

"Then let's celebrate!" Jadrie urged, carefully putting her new outfit on the bed and covering it with the coverlet, just in case. Kira and Meri both put their presents back in their wooden presentation boxes, both with a last pat of satisfaction, and accepted mugs of cider from Jadrie. Kira held hers up in a toast, and they followed her example.

"To the best Midwinter ever," Kira said firmly, "and to more to come!"

"Best friends and sisters forever!" Meri said, touching mugs with her twin and Jadrie.

"Kal she li de'gande, arm she li de'gande," Jadrie said solemnly.

"What's that?" Meri asked.

Jadrie took a sip of her cider before she answered. "It's something best friends swear in the Clans -- 'I swear my sword to you, I swear my hand to you.' It means that if you ever need me, I'll drop everything to come help you."

"Huh!" Kira said, impressed, and touched her mug again to Jadrie's. "Kal she li de'gande, arm she li de'gande," she repeated, and Meri did the same, making a better job of the pronunciation than Kira had.

They managed to hold the solemn moment for several heartbeats, until one of the chestnuts jumped on the hearth, its shell splitting with a pop. That broke the spell, and they dove for the hot nuts, laughing and sucking burned fingers as they devoured their little feast.

* * *

Warrl scratched once, very softly, on the door to Tarma's room, and the Shin'a'in left her comfortable chair to let him in. He'd been making his nightly patrol of the childrens' wing, moving as only he could, so quietly they had no idea he was ever lurking outside their doors, listening with both ears and mind. He was in a very good mood, and grinned up at Tarma, tongue lolling, as he passed her.

"So, what mischief are the youngsters up to?" Tarma asked the tyree. He only grinned like that when he'd caught one or more of the children having a romp.

:Everyone is asleep except the girls,: Warrl replied, curling up on his bed, an enormous, flat cushion near the hearth but out of range of any errant embers. His eyes reflected the flames as he sighed with content. :As you had thought, they are having a farewell party.:

Tarma chuckled. "Not exactly a big surprise, with Midwinter Gifts all wrapped up and ready to present. I didn't think they could hold out until departure day. Right, then we'll give them a little longer to gossip and giggle, then I'll go make enough noise that they scatter back to their beds. Whose room are they in? Jadrie's?"

The kyree nodded.

"I thought she went to bed a little too easily. She must have hidden some goodies under the bed and she didn't want anyone finding them." There were no rules about taking food from the kitchen at any time -- growing, active younglings needed a lot of food. Sweets were generally locked up, but there was always nuts, cheese, bread, fruits and vegetables, and journey-cakes made with enough honey to make the children think they were sweets. However, there were rules about keeping food in the bedrooms. Once too often in the first year an unpleasant stench or an outbreak of flying pests or mice had been traced to forgotten goodies squirreled away in a chest or wardrobe, or under a bed. Kethry had decided that making it against the rules to have food in the rooms would not stop the children from taking food to their rooms for little "parties," but would ensure that all traces would be erased and all food would be eaten before it could become a problem.

"You can't keep them from it," Kethry had said philosophically. "Children just like to have secret social get-togethers, and it's no fun for them if they can't nibble on something. Lock up all the food, and they'll get bitten stealing squirrels' hordes, get scratched and punctured picking wild berries, get sick on sour fruit, and get stung stealing honey from forest hives."

"Or worse," Tarma had pointed out. "Our brood at least is woods-wise and they know what's not safe to eat, but the same can't be said for our students. And the gods only know what sort of things they'd pick to try and eat. You're right; the rule about keeping food should take care of the problem."

And it wasn't really breaking the rule if the food was eaten immediately, just bending it a little. After all, the rule specifically said keeping food in their rooms, not earing it there.

:I wonder why the older boys aren't having a similar-: Warrl broke off his thought to cock an ear at the door. :Footsteps on the stair. One of the older boys. Belton, by the footsteps.:

Since the hallway on which the adults had their rooms was dimly lit with a night-lantern, there was no need for a child to stumble through the dark to find any of his teachers. A moment or two later, the expected tap came at Tarma's door.

She opened it; Belton stood there, with a guarded expression, still fully dressed although he should have been in his nightclothes by now.

"Come to say good-bye privately?" she asked, giving him an easy excuse for his presence, so that he could broach the real reason he had sought her out when he felt a little more comfortable. "Please, come in and share my hearth."

The boy blinked in the fire- and lantern-light, and came hesitantly inside. Tarma waved him to a chair, and took her own seat again. "Tea?" she invited, holding up a pot. He shook his head, and she put it back on the table beside her chair. "I'm glad all three of you boys will be coming back after the holidays," she said, relaxing into the embrace of her chair. "You are all intelligent and quick, and I think you'll be happy here. I'm happy to have you as students. More than that, well, I like you boys for yourselves." She smiled at him. "Even when you're all acting like brats, I still like you."

Belton didn't relax. He stared at his hands, clenched rightly on one knee, then at the fire, then back at his hands, all without saying anything. Tarma waited with infinite patience; she had a fair idea that he was about to tell her the secret she'd sensed in him.

In the meantime, she filled the silence with onesided conversation, about her own training, about things Belton could expect to learn when he returned, about how she had felt at his age when confronted by some of the things she had been expected to learn. Finally, he looked as if he was ready to say something, and she paused to give him a chance.

"Is revenge wrong?" he finally blurted, looking up urgently into her eyes. "Not for something petty, not a stupid argument or something. Serious revenge, grown-up revenge."

Interesting question. "Are you asking the teacher or the Shin'a'in?" she replied.

"Both. Either." He shook his head, clearly confused. "I don't know what I want to hear-"

"Well, the teacher would say -- 'yes, of course, revenge is wrong, doing something terrible to revenge yourself is creating a second wrong on top of the one that was done to you.' But the Shin'a'in has a different way of looking at things than the teacher who has to live in civilization." She smiled slowly. "The Shin'a'in would say that it depends on what you expect you're going to get out of the vengeance -- and it depends on what the vengeance is going to do to you."

"What I'm going to get out of it? Don't you mean, what I'm going to accomplish?" Belton looked puzzled at her wording, and she wasn't surprised. She was about to introduce him to some complicated thinking, but she thought he could grasp it.

"No, that's not what I mean. The Shin'a'in are not at all against vengeance, or against blood-feuds. In fact, I'm here now because of an oath of vengeance." She nodded at his look of surprise. "For us, the key difference is that in order to swear an oath of vengeance, or take on a blood-feud, you have to swear yourself to the Warrior-Goddess, and that means giving up everything. Family, Clan, love, marriage -- all of it."

"Why?" Belton wanted to know.

"In part, to make sure that revenge is the act of last resort-that it is kept for very specific purposes." She wound a strand of hair around one finger. "We don't allow people to declare blood-feuds just because they can't get along with another person in their Clan, and we don't let Clan declare blood-feud with Clan. Very far back in the past, our people separated into two groups, one of whom became the Shin'a'in, because of a difference of opinion. That separation came out all right, but it isn't something we want to happen again." How much to tell him? I can't give him the whole history of the Clans in one night! But the boy did look intent on her words, so she continued. "That's why someone who needs revenge that badly gives up everything, and becomes an instrument of the Shin'a'in as a whole. The Shin'a'in take revenge very seriously, and only someone who is acting for the People of the Plains rather than himself is permitted to take it. We believe that if you aren't serious enough about revenge to be willing to give up everything in order to have it, then you aren't going after revenge for the right reasons."

Belton chewed on his lower lip for a long time before answering her. "What are the right reasons?"

"I can't give you all of them, but I can tell you mine -- and as to how I know they were right, well, the Goddess accepted my oath, so they must have been." She took a sip of her warm tea and let the taste of honey and flowers linger on her tongue for a moment. He continued to watch her face intently. "Bandits had slaughtered my entire Clan. I wanted to wipe them off the face of the earth -- but not because killing them would bring any of my people back. Yes, I wanted to kill them because they had killed everyone I cared about. But I also knew that if they got away with the murders, others would try to emulate them -- and the People could not have that happen."

"What if you'd gotten killed yourself?" Belton asked.

"If I had failed, there would have been other Shin'a'in who would have come after me who would have succeeded where I failed. I just had the right to try to do the job first." She nodded as his eyes widened. "I also knew that they had probably murdered plenty of other people in the past, and would do so again in the future -- and there is one sure thing you can say about destroying a murderer, and that's that he won't be around to kill again."

Belton pondered her words silently; she waited for him to say something, but he remained silent.

"However--" she held up a cautionary finger "--revenge for an insult, for a purely personal wrong -- that's no reason for revenge. And I'll tell you why; you don't teach a piece of scum a lesson by serving out to him what he served out to you, all you do is give him a reason to heap your plate with more of the same. Slime doesn't learn lessons; it just stays slime." She took a long, deep breath. "Don't fool yourself, don't try to tell yourself you intend to teach your enemy a lesson. You won't. Revenge on slime is not education, it's got to be eradication -- or at the very least it has to accomplish the task of making absolutely sure that the slime can't ever commit that particular act again."

The boy blinked at her, as if he couldn't quite believe that she had said that. "But what about -- what if someone arranged -- hired someone else to do his dirty work for him?"

"When someone is low enough scum to buy a bully-boy to hurt or kill someone you care about, just who do you intend to get your revenge on?" she asked bluntly. "The bully-boy? Granted, that piece of garbage won't be taking on any more jobs, at least for a while, but the perpetrator won't care, he'll just hire someone new."

Belton chewed his lip a little more. "No, no -- it would have to be the one who did the hiring."

"So, you want to take on the scum himself?" She saw a fire leap into Belton's eyes and again raised a cautionary finger. "Think it through. Can you prove that he bought the bully? Obviously you can't, or you or your family would have brought him up before the King's Justice on charges."

The boy's face tightened up. "You're right," he said harshly. "We can't prove anything."

"I'm going to be saying this a great deal, Belton -- think this through, every aspect of it. What if he really didn't do anything? What if you're wrong?"

"But-" Belton began.

She shushed him. "Humor me. What if you're wrong? You try to hurt an innocent man. Well, maybe not innocent, but certainly one who isn't guilty of that particular crime. I don't know what your religion says about that, but I know that the King's Justice will certainly catch up with you, and their punishment here on earth is bad enough."

His face looked like a mask, but at least he was still listening. "Yes, but-"

"I know, I know, it's easier for me to say this, to think about it, because I wasn't the one who was wronged. Belton, your father is powerful, and powerful men have more than one enemy. It is possible that some other enemy did this -- even deliberately staged things to make it look as if the person you suspect did it, knowing that in seeking revenge on the so-called innocent, you'd get yourselves into even more trouble. Isn't it?"

He paled a little, and nodded. "But-"

"But assume you're right, and he did the dirty deed. Whether you fail or succeed in killing him, he wins."

Belton's mouth fell open in shock. "How can you say that?" he cried, his voice cracking.

She spread out her hands. "Simple, friend. Think it through. You can't prove that he did the thing, that's a given. So, if you succeed in killing him, since you are not going to take your revenge by hiring another assassin -- or if you are, you aren't going to be as practiced at it as he is -- you're going to get caught. Your family is disgraced, and you die as a murderer, executed, and your family is impoverished in paying the blood-debt to his. Or, if you fail, your family is disgraced, and you die at his hands, or the hands of his bodyguards, which amounts to the same thing. You're still dead, and he is still sitting fat and happy on his ill-gotten goods." She cocked her head to the side, and regarded his glazed eyes. "Doesn't seem like justice, does it? You've been wronged, and trying to make things right will only make them worse."

Slowly, he shook his head, and despair crept into his expression. "So what do I do?" he asked bitterly. "Let him go on gloating because he killed my cousin and got away with it?" The pain in his voice tore at her, but she knew that giving him sympathy at this moment would only allow him to wallow in feeling and keep him from thinking.

"Oh, absolutely not!" she replied. "But you have to have an eye to the long view. What's the goal?"

"Get him!" Belton replied passionately. "Make him pay!"

"Then plan," she said shortly. "Use your mind -- he's certainly using his against you, and that's the way you can catch him."

"Plan?" he repeated, as if the concept had never occurred to him. It probably hadn't. After all, he was a very young man, and young men tended to act rather than think.

"Planning -- that's what will get you what you want," she said firmly. "Every action you take must have sound planning behind it. You don't think that generals just charge out onto the field without first choosing their ground and scouring the enemy do you?"

"Well," he admitted. "No, I guess."

"This is war; think of it that way -- not in terms of a single confrontation, but as a campaign. You've got to get on your choice of ground, and you have to know exactly what you're up against." She was satisfied with his initial reaction. His face lost that tight, tense look.

"What do you mean?" he asked very slowly.

"First, you make absolutely certain that he really did order the murder, on purpose, with malicious intent." This was going remarkably well, perhaps because the wound was no longer fresh. That was all to the good, since it meant he could think as well as feel.

"How do I do that?" Belton asked, losing a little more of the despair.

"Depends on a lot of things, but remember that this is a campaign. Remember the end result that you want. Wouldn't it be best if you could turn this enemy over to the authorities?"

He sat and thought about that, and finally admitted, "Better, I guess. Not as -- as satisfying, but better."

"Then the easiest is to find a powerful enough mage to scry out the answer for you, and an honest enough one that he'll tell you the truth and not what you want to hear. That's expensive, but it's the cleanest -- and any mage in Rethwellan who learns the identity of a murderer is required by law to report it to the Justices." She nodded as he brightened. "This, of course, assumes he hasn't hired mages to cover his tracks, which he might have. A sufficiently powerful and persistent mage can untangle all that, of course, but again, it's expensive and time-consuming. And I would be very much surprised if your family wasn't already doing that."

Belton opened his mouth to protest, then stopped himself as something occurred to him. His brow creased in thought, and he finally admitted, "You're probably right. Father said the family was doing something, but he didn't say what."

"Then knowing your father, that's probably what's going on." Now she reached out to pat his hand. "Your father is a very intelligent man, and a very caring one. He's too intelligent not to take the most obvious route, and too caring to burden you with the knowledge of it until he knows whether or not it will work. Belton, you're supposed to be concentrating on your studies, not on family troubles!"

"How could I not?" he asked, unable to understand that.

She sighed. "Remember how earlier today I said that parents sometimes don't know what suits their child? Well, they often think that they can shelter their children from their own troubles. Parents can be incredibly short-sighted about their children -- and their children have to learn to forgive them for it."

He looked a little bewildered now, but he did accept that, and waited for her to go on.

"Now, there's another route you can take, which might not have occurred to him. Informants." She took another sip of her tea. "If this low-life has arranged for a murder, he had to go through intermediaries, and every intermediary is potentially someone who knows who ordered the killing. He probably has boasted of it to someone, or more than one, and those people know he ordered it. Nothing stays a secret forever, and money loosens even the most reluctant of tongues. So, if the mage doesn't work out, that's the next path to try. And your father has probably already planned that, as well. Ask him; I think he'll probably tell you."

"But what does that leave for me to do?" Belton asked, despair once again creeping into his voice.

"Ah, now that is a good question, and I have an answer for you, but it means being very patient, confiding in your father, and the two of you working together." Tarma was beginning to enjoy herself; it was a little like old times. "Your job will be to leam all you can from me, then return home and convince him that you have learned enough to become a partner in his plans."

"And? What can I do then? What if he doesn't have any plans?" Belton asked.

"Assuming he doesn't, I can tell you what I'd do. If I were doing this, I would then pretend to everyone else to have learned nothing," she told him, throwing out the idea that had come to her when he first revealed everything to her. "In fact, you should pretend to be a very typical young man of your set -- learn the silly sword-tricks and act the complete fop. Unless I miss my guess, you'll be such an obvious target that your enemy won't be able to resist going after you in order to harm your father even more."

Now Belton's eyes were truly shining with excitement. "And when he does -- it'll probably be another assassin, right?"

"Or an assassin in the guise of a street-robber or even someone who arranges for an insult one way or the other so that a duel can be set up between you," Tarma agreed. "And?"

"And I -- don't kill him? I take him prisoner?" He looked at her like an eager puppy, and she had to restrain herself from patting him on the head and telling him he was a good boy.

"Exactly. Then you have the link back to your enemy; I have no doubt that a skilled priest can elicit the truth out of your captive. When you've got the truth and a warm body to confirm it, you let the law deal with him." She nodded affably. "Chances are at that point there will be plenty of people ready to link him with your cousin's death, and he'll be called to answer for that, too. But it's all going to depend on patience on your part. Three or four years' worth of learning and getting ready, knowing that at any time your parents may take care of the situation through other means."

"I can do it," Belton said firmly. "I don't think Hesten could, but I can wait."

"I think you can, or I wouldn't have told you how to set it all up," Tarma affirmed, and leaned forward. "Now, feeling better?"

"Better than -- in a long time," the boy said, with a slow, shy smile. "I think I can sleep now."

"Then go let yourself out -- and do me a favor, go tap on the door of Jadrie's room and tell her I'm about to make a last bed-check, would you?" She leaned back lazily in her chair.

He cast a sharp glance at her, then grinned. "Are you?"

"Not if I don't have to -- but it's time they stopped giggling and gossiping and got some sleep." She shook her head. "Sometimes I wonder if we just shouldn't let all three girls bunk together and be done with it."

"Hah. You know girls, they'd never get any sleep," said Belton, with the superior air of a boy who has not yet learned the real fascination of the female sex. "They'd spend every night giggling over nothing."

"You're probably right," Tarma sighed with mock regret as Belton got up and went to the door. "Just pass them the warning for me, would you?"

"I'd be glad to," the boy said with a grin, and managed to close the door quietly behind himself.

:That was neatly done,: Warrl observed without raising his head from his forepaws.

"What, getting the lad to scare the brats back into bed, or dealing with the potential avenger?"

:Both.: Warrl sighed, and rolled over so that his belly was to the fire. :Thank you for arranging things so I wouldn't have to leave the fireside.:

"Thank you for the compliment, Furball." She yawned, and realized that she had no real interest left in the book she'd been reading, or the tea she'd been drinking. "And since I won't have to go chivvy the girls into their beds either, I'm going to set a good example and go to mine."

* * *

It was the usual sort of midwinter day for the south of Rethwellan; gray and overcast, with clouds like long, lumpy serpents packed together so tightly that not a trace of blue snowed through. A breeze hissed in the bare branches, but didn't disturb the ankle-deep snow. Kethry, with Jadrek, Jadrie, and Tarma had come down to say their farewells to Kira and Meri; a part of Kethry regretted the need to stand there in the snow waving until the children, at least, were out of sight. Her feet were cold, and breakfast had been a long time ago. Still, Jadrie would have thought it terribly unfeeling of her not to be here.

The last set of escorts finally rode out of sight with Kira and Meri safely in their midst, and Kethry was grateful that there had been remarkably few tears of parting. And, in fact, long before the last speck faded out of sight, Jadrie had left them to go back inside the gates. As the core group of adults walked back through the gates and entered the door of the manor, Kethry cocked her head to one side. Tarma looked at her with a quizzical expression. "What is it?" the Shin'a'in asked. "Listen-" Kethry whispered, and grinned at Tarma's quick answering smile. "Silence. Isn't it wonderful!"

"By the end of the month you'll be bored and wanting your students back, and so will Tarma and I," her husband replied knowingly, and took Kethry's arm. Even after all this time, she still got a warm thrill at his touch, and she laid her free hand over his. He had a knowing twinkle in his eyes as she squeezed his hand in response.

"Well, we still have our own younglings, and I'm going to go drill Jadrie and the twins in the riding arena," Tarma replied. "They think I'm teaching them riding tricks and Shin'a'in horseback games to impress their friends. Hah!"

One of these days that trick isn't going to work anymore. Kethry laughed. "Just don't keep them at it too long. It is a holiday, and it's not fair for us to give their friends release from study and not give them the same treatment."

Tarma tossed her hair back with a casual flip of a hand. "Oh, don't worry, I'm an old hand at making lessons seem like play."

"At least until they catch you at it," Jadrek warned, echoing Kethry's thought, with a chuckle. "Last holiday within a fortnight they had it figured that your game of 'hide and hunt' was nothing more than practice in tracking."

"Well, that's your fault for breeding such clever children," Tarma retorted, as she strode off in the direction of the stables. "You should have been a little more careful."

Kethry laughed, and hugged Jadrek's arm, reminded again how grateful she was that her she'enedra and her beloved were as fond of one another as the best of siblings. "To think that I was once worried about how you two would get along!"

Her husband arched a slender, silver eyebrow at her, and she braced herself for something witty, funny, or both. "Do you think that for one scant moment I would even contemplate doing or saying anything to offend our best unpaid child-tender? Perish the thought, woman!"

"I know, how foolish of me." She released his arm with a kiss on the back of his hand. "I am going to go do something nonmagical, frivolous and feminine; I'm going to go brew up some perfume in the still-room. I've spent so much time making bruise-ointment and salve for the little hoydens that I haven't done a thing with the roses I harvested this summer, or the sentle-wood and amba-resin that I bought from that trader this fall."

"Mmm," Jadrek replied absently, as his mind apparently flashed elsewhere. I think he just realized that he's going to have whole stretches of time without interruptions for the next moon. "I've got a translation I promised to young Stefansen that's been giving me some problems."

Kethry made a shooing motion with her hands. "Go do it, then but set the candle-alarm for three marks, or you won't remember to eat luncheon, and I'm certain that Cook is already planning something a bit more experimental now that the children are gone."

This would make another pleasant change; on the whole, children bolted food without paying much attention to it, and looked upon things that they didn't recognize with suspicion. It was only when no one was in residence but "the family" that Cook made anything other than good, basic fare. And Cook looked forward to the holidays with some anticipation for that very reason.

"Well, I wouldn't risk my marriage by offending Cook either," Jadrek laughed, and kissed her forehead. "Now don't you forget to set your alarm-candle!"

They went their separate ways, and Kethry immersed herself in the intricacies of creating her own signature perfumes -- a light floral, rich with roses, and a heavier, more incense-like scent, both with hints of cinnamon. The still-room was one of her favorite places in the manor, pleasantly dim (some essences reacted poorly to sunlight), cool in summer, warm in winter. There was just enough room for one person to move about, so no one came here unless invited. She puttered happily with oils and fixatives, flagons and pestles. When her alarm-candle burned down the allotted three candlemarks and released its little brass ball to clang into the copper basin, she came to herself with a start.

She cleaned up and headed for the table, to find Tarma, Jadrie, and the twins making serious inroads on Cook's latest creation. It involved finely-chopped meat and vegetables, cheese -- something vaguely like sheets of pastry -- and there Kethry's knowledge ended.

"Pull up a plate and tuck in," Tarma urged. "I haven't a clue what this is, but it's marvelous!"

The twins looked up with full mouths and slightly-smeared cheeks, nodded vigorously in agreement, and dove back in. All of the "home children" were used to eating things they didn't recognize and were prepared to enjoy them, partly because of their cheerful tempers, and partly because they had always been used to eating things they didn't recognize. They had spent their entire lives shuttling between the school-manor, with fairly ordinary fare, and the Dhorisha Plains. Shin'a'in cuisine was not something that most Rethwellans would be at all familiar with, and there often was not much choice in what they were offered when on the road.

Cook came in with a loaf of hot bread and a pot of butter, wearing a look of anxious inquiry on his face. "Tasty dead horse, Cook!" Jadrie called, and ducked as he mimed a blow at her. It was an old joke between them, since the time when Jadrie had pestered him as a toddler, wanting to know what was in each dish he made. He had finally gotten annoyed at her incessant questions and snapped, "Dead horse! Can't you see the tail?" From that moment on, any time Cook presented them with an experiment, Jadrie referred to it as a "dead horse."

"I wasn't certain, before, but I think this would be a good school dish," Cook said to Kethry. "It's easily made ahead and kept warm next to the ovens. Do you think the students would eat it?"

"If they won't, I'll eat theirs for 'em," Lyan said with his mouth full.

Jadrek laughed. "With that kind of enthusiasm before them, I imagine they will, Devid," he replied. "This is definitely one of your better experiments."

Cook beamed his pleasure, and hurried back to the kitchen to supervise the cleaning up. The rest of the meal proceeded in pleasant silence as the mystery dish and the hot bread and butter vanished away like snow in sunshine. Even Kethry, who normally wasn't all that hearty an eater, found herself unusually hungry after her work in the still-room, and was absorbed completely in the meal.

It wasn't until she had eaten the last bite that she could possibly hold and looked up that she realized not everyone had come to lunch -- or, apparently, were expected to.

"Estrel and Justin and Ikan went down to the village to meet the new Healer-Priestess and they took Jadrek Minor with them," Jadrie said, as Kethry noticed that the other three places weren't set. "Estrel put the babies down for their naps before she left, and Warrl is watching them. Cook said he'd save them lunch; they expected to be back by the time the babies' naps were over."

"Then I'd better supervise the nursery until they get back, and give Warrl a break," Tarma said, not only willing, but eager. "Jadrie, will you and the twins-"

Just at that moment, Kethry felt the room drop away from under her, a wash of anger threaten to overwhelm her, and a surge of nameless emotions hit her with a force that made her gasp. Unconsciously, she braced herself on the table, as her family turned to stare at her with varying degrees of surprise and concern.

And for a moment, she didn't recognize what had hit her, it had been so long-

"Need," she gasped, when she got her breath back. "It's Need! Something's wrong, something horrible has happened-"

"To whom?" Tarma demanded. "Can you tell?" Her face paled. "Dear gods, surely not Estrel-"

Kethry shook her head, both in negation and to clear the tears of shock from her eyes. "Not Estrel, it's not in the direction of the village," she managed to reply. At least in all the time she'd been soul-bonded to the blade, she'd learned to pick out which direction that "trouble" was coming from. "But it can't be too far away, not more than a day's ride at most, or it wouldn't be this strong-"

Jadrie and the twins stared at her with alarm and dismay. Of course, they've never seen me like this before, Need hasn't grabbed me like this in years-

"Should we send out a hunter or something-" Jadrek began, and Tarma snapped her fingers.

"Of course!" she said, then frowned in concentration. "Keth, what direction?"

"North, north and a little east," she replied, as sure of it as if she was the needle of a compass pointing to the source that was wrenching at her skull and heart.

A door slammed somewhere, as Tarma said, "Warrl's on it. He's faster in this weather than anyone, and he'll find out exactly where the trouble is. Can you hold out until he calls me or comes back himself?"

"I'll have to, won't I?" she replied grimly, for now the pull that the sword exerted on her had settled to a painful headache echoed by wire-tight muscles in her neck, shoulders, and stomach. "This isn't something we can delegate. We'd better get ready to ride. Jadrek-"

How do I tell my beloved that he'll only be in the way?

"I won't be of much use to you, dearest," he admitted without rancor, a fact that brought tears of gratitude to her eyes. "Or rather, I will be of more use to you here with the children. What can I do to help prepare?"

"Travel packs; you know what I need," she said immediately. The mere thought that she wouldn't have to try and think through this pain to select what she would require came as a profound relief.

"I'm on it, love." Jadrek pushed away from the table and left the room, as quickly as he could.

Tarma took over, as the three children stared, dismayed and frightened. "Children, you three get Hellsbane and Ironheart ready. Jadrie, you've had lessons in provisioning, you make up the packs for the horses. I'm depending on you to get it right. Boys, saddle and harness the mares, and when Jadrie's put the packs together, bring them to the riding arena. Go."

The children scrambled to their feet and sped out of the room like three hornets from a roused nest. Tarma turned to Kethry, who was taking slow, even breaths, and trying to get a little magical shielding between herself and the pain. "Keth, get to your rooms and get changed. I'll tell Cook what's going on, and he can handle the servants until Jadrek has time to deal with them, I'll get changed and collect the medical kit and traveling cash, and I'll meet you at the riding arena. Good?"

She nodded; in a moment or two she would be able to walk. "Right," she replied, and as Tarma left her alone in the room, she began a silent colloquy with the sword hanging on the wall of her sitting room, trying to persuade it that nothing was going to happen unless it gave her -- not freedom, but a long enough leash to act.

Old warriors never let their fighting gear get out of condition; that is how they become old warriors in the first place. Tarma's armor and weapons were always kept oiled, polished, and in a place of honor on the proper stands in her room. When the family made its annual summer pilgrimage to the Plains, she wore it religiously, even though in all the years she had done so, they had never once been set upon.

And I always keep a traveling pack three-fourths complete, just in case. You never know....

So in her case, it wasn't at all difficult to assemble the proper pack and get herself properly arrayed. In fact, the pack was complete and she had just about finished lacing herself into her armor when she heard Warrl's "call" in the back of her head, as if he was shouting from a long distance away.

The kyree had awesome speed when he needed it, and was not limited to using roads; he could cover in a candlemark what would take a horse and rider half a day to traverse if it was necessary. He'd pay for it afterward, and be useless for the rest of the day, but if there was ever the perfect scout to send off looking for trouble, it was Warrl.

Between his speed and his nose, he required only a simple direction to find the source of whatever had set Need off. That violent a reaction had to have its cause in further violence, and Warrl could scent blood on the wind a league away. Tarma would have been astonished if he hadn't found the source of their alarm.

And she had a horrible feeling, as well, that she already knew who it was that had caused the alarm. North was the direction that Kira and Meri had gone. And Need "knew" them, by virtue of being within the same walls for the past four moons.

Warrl was so far away that he was barely at the limit of his range, and his mental voice was faint and thin.

But it was clear enough, and it was exactly what she had dreaded hearing. :Kira and Meri. Escort all dead, girls gone. On my way back.:

Scant information, but enough. He was probably saving his energy for the run. He'd be exhausted when he reached the manor, but that was all right, he could ride pillion on Hellsbane and recover while he guided them.

Worry about them in the back of your mind, Tarma. Concentrate on getting on their track now.

She raised her voice and called out the open door of her room, knowing that Jadrek and Kethry would hear her, reporting exactly what Warrl had told her, and forced her fingers to work faster in the lacings of her armor. When the last piece was fastened, she grabbed her thick, quilted wool Shin'a'in coat and her pack, and ran as fast as the weight of the armor would permit, heading for the still room.

Once there, she made up a medical kit of anything that might be useful -- from silk thread and needles to poppy-gum. Ordinarily this would be Kethry's job, but Tarma had seen her do it often enough to know what went into such a kit, and there were special padded leather roll-pouches, each with the appropriate pockets, just waiting for anyone who needed to make up such a kit. That went into her pack, well-cushioned by the bedroll, and she headed for her next destination, Justin's office where the strongbox was kept.

Old habits die hard for former mercenaries; as she had half hoped, there was a full money-belt coiled inside the strongbox, along with the rest of the school's treasure. Justin wouldn't have felt easy unless he knew there was a full money-belt ready in case of an emergency trip. She hefted it, judged it to be sufficient by the weight, and buckled it on over her armor. Later, she could put it on under the armor, but she didn't think she had the time to right now. Whoever had kidnapped the girls already had half a day's head start on them -- for they must have gotten at least that far from the school before they were attacked. It could snow at any time, and if the kidnappers were intelligent, they would take to the trade roads and trust to the inevitable traffic that moved even in winter to confuse or obliterate their trail.

Thank the gods Jadrek didn't ask why we're doing this, she thought, heading for the stables. There had never been any doubt in her mind that they would do something from the moment that Need woke from her years-long sleep. But strictly speaking, she and Keth didn't have to go after the girls. They weren't at fault, their escort was. They had already relinquished control of the children the moment the escort took them off the property. All they were obligated to do would be to send word to the girls' father of the disaster.

Right, and how do I look Tilden in the face again, if all I do is that? Hellfires, how do I look at myself in the mirror? No way am I going to abandon them, and neither is Keth, and with Need to guide us, we're the best chance those girls have got.

She beat Keth to the riding arena by a few moments, but no more -- just long enough to see with relief that Jadrie and the boys had gotten things exactly right--

And that Jadrie and her brothers were sitting on their own horses, with packs tied on behind that were identical in every way to the packs she and Keth were taking.

Her mind hadn't quite grasped that, when Jadrek and Kethry reached the door of the arena. Jadrek was the first to react in any kind of sensible fashion.

"Just what do you children think you're doing?" he thundered, in his best wrath-of-the-gods voice.

The boys winced a little, but Jadrie was unimpressed. "We're going with you," she stated flatly. "You need us."

Tarma covered the distance between herself and Jadrie in a mere blink of an eye, grabbing Jadrie's ankle and looking into her eyes with a glare that full grown men could not face. "Jadrie," she said, her harsh voice made even harsher with anger. "This is not a game. And it's no time for playing stupid tricks."

To her surprise, Jadrie did not back down, though tears of anger and frustration started from her eyes -- anger at being misjudged, and frustration at being thought a mere child with no understanding. "Don't you think I know that?" she cried. "Don't you think Lyam and Laryn do? They heard you, heard you telling Mummy and Da what went wrong, and they came to tell me! It's Kira and Meri who are in trouble, and I swore to help them, Clanmother, I swore it, sword and hand!"

The words hit Tarma like a blow to the heart, and she cursed under her breath.

She swore the oath. Damn her, she's of the blood and she swore the oath to her friends. It's sacred; she knows it and I know it and the Star-Eyed knows it. That was the only thing that could have persuaded her to allow Jadrie to come within a thousand leagues of this rescue mission -- and how had this infuriating little Clanswoman known it? And why did she swear the Oath of Sword and Hand to a couple of outClan children?

Kethry and Jadrek had been among the Shin'a'in long enough to know how serious the Oath was -- and what were they supposed to do? Tell Jadrie that she was too young to know what she was doing, when she plainly had? Tell her that oaths sworn by not-so-little girls didn't count? What kind of an idiot would do that to a child?

What kind of idiot would make a child into an oathbreaker?

Tarma turned, and saw the same conflicts warring within Jadrek and Kethry. Finally, it was Kethry who spoke.

"You're her teacher," Kethry said flatly. "Can she help?"

Tarma closed her eyes, and tried to forget that the youngster before her was the firstborn of her best friends, the firstborn of Tale'sedrin. Jadrie was no younger than many Shin'a'in children on patrol now at the edge of the Plains, or guarding herds from predators, or performing any one of a number of "adult" tasks. She was as well-trained, or better, than all of them. "Yes," she said finally, flatly. "She has the skills to be very useful."

She opened her eyes, and saw fear and pride warring in her friends' faces, and it was Jadrek who looked up at Jadrie, and said, "Very well. Because you swore an oath, you can go."

Jadrie had the good manners not to cheer, but the twins didn't. And Jadrek cut them off.

"But you two didn't swear any oaths, and you are staying here!" he barked.

"That's an order," Kethry added in a voice of steel.

"And if you dare to try and follow, you lose the use of your horses for the rest of the year."

That was more than enough threat to keep them safely behind, as their stricken looks proved. Crestfallen, the boys slid off their horses, and meekly led them back into the stable.

Kethry turned to her daughter, and still using that same cold voice, addressed her in a way that made her turn a little pale. "I am not pleased with this," she told the girl. "I am not particularly pleased that you decided to use an oath that serious without thinking of the consequences. You have a chance to redeem yourself if you follow every order we give you to the letter, with no argument, and no hesitation. If you cannot keep up, you will return home on your own; we won't have time to take you back. This is going to be the hardest thing you have ever done, and there will be no room for thoughtless acts. I am not your mother on this trip; Tarma is not your foster mother. We are your commanders, and if you make a mistake, it could be fatal, not just for you, but for all of us. If there is fighting, you will stay clear unless otherwise ordered. If you bring danger on us, we will save you if we can, but it is not only possible but likely that we cannot. Is that understood?"

Clearly this was a side of her mother that Jadrie had never seen before. She was as pale as a spirit, but her chin was set firmly, and she replied in a voice that was as steady as Tarma could have wished. "Perfectly, commander."

Now Kethry looked at Tarma. "Let's get in the saddle and get moving; we'll meet Warrl on the way, and save him a little running. We need all the daylight we can get."

"Right." Tarma heaved herself up into Hellsbane's saddle, and Kethry got herself in place on Ironheart, leaning down to kiss her husband when she was secure.

"Go-" he urged. "I'll take care of things here -- as soon as the rest get back, I'll send Ikan up to Tilden; better this comes from a friend than a strange messenger."

She needed no more urging than that, and neither did Tarma; lifting the reins, the two battlesteeds loped out into the gray light of afternoon, followed by a much subdued Jadrie on her mare.

* * *

Kira had created plenty of daydreams about bandit raids and kidnappers, and had imagined herself being heroic and triumphant in all of them, but when attackers really struck, it wasn't anything like her daydreams.

It was all so sudden she barely had time to react, much less act in a heroic fashion. The guards were all calm, talking and joking, and no one was at all wary and watchful. She had the impression that this had been considered a "soft" job, and the men with her were very much envied by their peers. There was no indication that there was anything to be worried about.

The very first sign that something was wrong was when one of the more nervous horses stopped, snorted, and twitched his ears forward.

There was no other warning. Before even the horse's rider had a chance to do anything, a guard at the front of the escort suddenly screamed and fell off his horse.

For all of her reading, this was the first time that Kira had ever seen a man die, and this one was dying right in front of her; at first, it didn't seem real. Before she could do more than stare stupidly at the arrow in his back and the spreading scarlet stain in the snow as he writhed there, two more of the guards made horrid gurgling sounds and fell off, too, with arrows sticking out of their throats.

She sat there on her fat little pony, paralyzed with a mixture of fear and horror, wanting to throw up and run away at the same time. The only thing that came into her mind was that there was never any blood in her daydreams....

Meri screamed, startling her out of her shock, at about the same time as chaos erupted all around them.

Their ponies were shoved aside by more of their guards, as the men made a wall of themselves around their charges. But that wall didn't last long; ignoring armored men, the attackers cut down the horses with their arrows, sending screaming animals to drop under their riders. Behind the volley of arrows came a charge, then there were frantically running men and horses, screaming and shouting, and swords cutting everywhere. Confused and frightened, the pony only thought to flee; he bolted between two screeching, bleeding horses into the first open space he saw.

Suddenly she was sitting on her pony in the middle of the open road, and there wasn't anybody standing protectively between her and a rough-clad man who was riding straight for her.

She thought, belatedly, of her knife at her belt -- her pony tried to bolt as she gave him confused signals -- then the stranger was right on top of her. He snatched her out of her saddle with an impact that drove all the breath out of her and made her see stars.

He paused just long enough to rob her of her knife, then dumped her across the front of his saddle, facedown -- as the horse galloped off, she thought she was going to be sick. The pommel of his saddle jolted into her stomach, and she had a terrible time just getting a full breath between jolts. The whole world was reduced to lashing hair and snow-covered ground, and the pain of an ever-increasing number of bruises.

The next thing she knew, he'd stopped as abruptly as he'd started. He grabbed her under the arms before she got a breath, and threw her toward a -- wagon? Whatever, she was flying through the air, straight for it. Before she had time to brace herself, she landed inside a darkened boxlike structure, and hit her head against the wooden floor. Meri landed on top of her in the next moment, then something bulky and heavy flew in after them. The door they'd been tossed through slammed shut, there was the sound of a bar dropping in place over the door. Before either of them could move, the box began jolting around, bouncing and bruising them both unmercifully to the sound of wheels and galloping hooves.

We're in a wagon. A prison-wagon, or a treasure-wagon, they're about the same-

That was all the tiny, still-sane part of her could think, as she and Meri clung to each other, and screamed and cried until they were hoarse, sore of eye and of throat, as well as battered and bruised.

Eventually they managed to brace themselves so that they weren't bouncing around quite so badly, and long after they'd cried themselves out, the wagon finally slowed to a reasonable pace.

"What happened?" Meri asked tearfully, in a hoarse whisper.

"I th-think we've been kidnapped," Kira stammered back.

"But-why?" Meri wailed. "Who would want to kidnap us?"

Kira ignored that question; obviously their father was under the impression that someone would want to, or he wouldn't have sent guards to escort them home for the holidays. She knew, beneath her own fright and nausea, that somehow she would have to come up with better questions than that. You had to have questions before you could have answers -- and oh, she needed answers now!

A voice out of memory interrupted her chaotic, fear-filled rambling.

"Think things through."

She started; for a moment the memory of Tarma's voice was so clear that it seemed as if she'd really heard the words.

"We have to think, Meri," she whispered fiercely. "Like Tarma always says." She screwed up her face in concentration, and tried to dredge up other memories that might help.

"Start with what you know, and go on to what your resources are. Don't waste the first few moments on speculation."

She licked her lips. What she knew -- well, they'd been kidnapped. They were in a wagon, being hauled rapidly away from where they'd been taken. And she knew that sooner or later, someone would come looking for them.

How soon? No, that's a speculation. There was nothing to tell her who it was that held them captive. But at the very least, she should begin by examining their prison.

There wasn't much to examine; there was enough room on the floor for both girls to stretch out at full-length, but not much more than that. The walls were straight and unadorned, and would permit an adult to stand erect. There were no windows, no benches to sit on, but light did leak in through a couple of chinks and knotholes. No help there.

She examined the bulky objects that had been tossed in after them by touch, and discovered to her joy that it was their packs! But it was obvious that they'd been opened, and a quick feel through both proved that nothing in the way of a weapon had been left to them, not even a pair of Meri's scissors. She still had the tiny knife in her boot, but it wouldn't be of much use.

Resources. Clothing, Meri's embroidery, beads and jewelry they didn't steal, and my journal. I suppose we could use drawstrings to strangle someone, provided he held still and cooperated-

She stifled a hysterical laugh. Concentrate! What came next?

"Father will send someone to find us, won't he?" Meri asked, her voice trembling just a little.

"Once he knows we're gone. If he can find us." There didn't seem any point in telling her twin less than the truth. "That could be hard. I don't know where they're taking us, but it's probably far away. And they've got us locked up in this wagon, I bet, so we don't attract attention. If they get onto a trade road, it's going to be awfully hard to track us."

Meri took a shuddering breath, but kept herself under control. "Couldn't we -- leave a trail of something? Like the goose-girl and her pocket of pebbles?"

Kira almost dismissed that as desperate babbling, but something in her seized on the idea. A trail -- maybe that wasn't such a bad idea. There was a chink in the floor, and they could drop something small out of it without much trouble. But what? And how could they keep what they dropped from being seen by their captors? Almost anything they dropped would stand out in the snow--

--snow. White snow. White silk! Silver beads!

"Meri, I need the white silk you got from Jadrie, and the silver beads," Kira said urgently. "Can you find it in here?" She shoved Meri's pack over to her, and hoped that the silks hadn't been looted.

"I think so." Meri rummaged around in her pack in the semidarkness, and finally came up with a handful of skeins of thread that shone pale as moonlight in her hand, and a little box that rattled. "Here. What are you going to do?"

"Leave a trail for people to follow," Kira replied, carefully finding the end of one of the skeins, then snipping off a short piece with her tiny knife. "They should have dogs. They might have Warrl! When they find this silk, they'll know it's us."

Carefully, she fed the silk through the chink, doing her best to keep it from snagging on a splinter. It took three tries, and three pieces, before she hit on the idea of making a funnel with a piece of paper from her journal, but at last she got one to drop all the way through.

Meanwhile, she kept thinking. "We've got to figure out a way to slow everything down," she said, as she continued to thread bits of silk through the wooden floor, alternating the silk with silver beads. "Think, Meri! What can we do to make it hard for these people?"

"Should we try to run away when they take us out?" Meri asked doubtfully.

"They're a lot bigger than we are, and there's more of them," Kira reminded her. "And I don't think they care if we get hurt a little." Or even a lot. "Besides," she continued, "If we try to run away, they won't ever let us out again."

"Could we do something to the horses?"

"Only if they let us get near them." Kira thought about it a moment, pondering the possibilities of burrs under saddles, or crystal beads lodged in hooves, then shook her head regretfully. "I don't think they're going to do that. If we were bigger, we could probably loosen the wheels on the wagon or something -- if we had wine we could get them all drunk-"

Meri thought for a while longer, then said, reluctantly, "What if we got sick? Wouldn't they have to stop so we wouldn't die?"

"They'll know if we aren't really sick, and anyway, they could just leave us in the wagon."

"Not--" Meri bit her lip, and Kira could tell her twin was blushing by the tone of her voice. "Not if it's -- stomach troubles. And lower."

"Stomach grippe? What are you thinking of?" Kira asked sharply.

"Remember my black beads? The ones Kethry told me never to let the baby play with, because they'd make him sick? They took my good jewels, but not those." Meri rummaged in her pack again, and came up with three long ropes of small, dark beads. "They're not really beads, they're seeds, and Jadrek helped me to find out what they were. They don't taste like anything, and if we eat three or four, we'll get sick. Then they'll have to stop to let us -- be sick. Won't they?"

Kira looked at her twin with sudden admirahon. I would be willing to get sick to slow everything up-but I wouldn't have thought Meri would! "I think so," she said, with another thought coming into her mind -- but one she would save, until she had a better idea of what their situation was. "It's worth a try."

* * *

Blood everywhere. I'd thought I would never have to deal with a situation like this one again. Tarma surveyed the carnage impassively, but with a sinking feeling in her heart. The bodies of the ten guards that had lately left the school with Meri and Kira now sprawled in ungainly poses over about a quarter of an acre of trampled snow. Three were down on the road itself, four lay in a ragged line under their dead and fallen horses and had clearly never gotten the chance to struggle free before they, too, were killed, and the remaining three were in a line behind them, where they had made a final stand afoot. Blood stained the white snow red everywhere, and liberal trails of more blood heading off to the south and west showed that the kidnappers had not gotten away completely unscathed.

But there were no dead that were not of the guards in Tilden's livery, so if any of the attackers had died, their bodies had been carted away. A bad sign. Whoever planned this was well organized, well armed, and with a lot of men. And it wasn't a simple bandit-raid. Not one guard had been left alive to send word of the massacre. Those horses that weren't dead were grouped together, heads down, exhausted -- not carried off with the bandits. The two ponies that Meri and Kira had ridden out on stood under a tree beside the road, sadly nosing through the snow and biting at the withered grass they found there.

Nobody actually stopped to loot either, not even the gear on the dead and living horses. All the arms and armor, all the packs that belonged to the dead men, it's all still here. Just the girls and their packhorse, that's all that were taken, and I have to wonder if the packhorse wasn't grabbed just because they didn't want to take the time to unload the girls' stuff off him. If we hadn't had Need, nobody would have known this happened until some trader or farmer stumbled over the bodies -- and even then, no one would know that the girls were missing. Until Tilden came looking for them, that is.

"Where now?" she asked Kethry.

"South and west," she replied immediately. "More west than south."

Well, that certainly corresponded with those telltale blood trails.

Tarma sucked on her lower lip, and glanced up at the sky to the west. Behind the gray pall of clouds, the sun shone feebly, no more than a finger's-breadth above the horizon. The air was sharply cold, too cold for snow at this point, so for a while they could follow the clear trail left by the kidnappers. It would be dark soon -- and no time to act on her hunch that the kidnappers were about to drive straight south. At least, not in time to cut them off.

"Stay on the pillion, Furball," she told a weary Warrl behind her. "I'll track them as long as I can see, then you take over until we can't ride anymore."

But just as twilight faded, that became easier to do, for the tracks of the running horses in the unbroken snow were joined by the tracks of wheels. Warrl raised his nose for a quick investigation, as Tarma read the churned-up snow. The blood-trails ended where the wheel marks began, so the kidnappers had paused long enough to rough-bandage their wounds.

:New men, here. They waited for some time while the others created their ambush and sprung it.:

"So they had a wagon ready and waiting, and that's where they put the girls." She gritted her teeth. "Smart. You keep them completely under control and you don't have to worry about someone accidentally seeing them. Hard to explain a little girl trussed up like a chicken for the pot, but no one is likely to be curious about a prison-wagon. I wish to hell I knew who these people were! It would tell me a lot about why they've done this and what they want."

"Surely ransom," Kethry ventured, but Tarma shook her head.

"Not necessarily, she'enedra. This could be political, an attempt to force Tilden into a position he wouldn't otherwise take by holding his girls." She used a little mental discipline to keep herself calm so that she could think properly, as her battlemare responded to her unease by shifting her weight and looking around for the danger. "It could be political in another way, to make an example out of the girls, to show how ruthless these people can be. Hellfires, if there are still any of Char's old allies around, I'd count on them to be that ruthless. It could be religious; the Triune Goddess Priests have been getting their noses out of joint since there isn't an official state religion anymore."

"It doesn't even have to have anything to do with Rethwellan," came the small, uncertain voice from behind her. As she turned to peer at Jadrie through the gloom, the girl swallowed but looked straight into Tarma's eyes and bravely continued her thought. "Merili is supposed to marry the Prince of Jkatha. And the kidnappers are going south. Maybe someone wants to force Queen Sursha to do something to get Meri back safe. You know she'd have to do something, especially if it's Jkathans that took Meri and Kira."

"Damn. Out of the mouths of babes. Good thinking, kitten." And maybe I ought to be grateful that she's along.... Tarma shook her head, then tried to visualize where they were on a map. With a sinking feeling, she realized that if the kidnappers continued southward, they would quickly strike a major trade route, and the odds were high that they would be able to muddle or hide their trail there in the tracks of ongoing traffic.

Which meant that the odds were high that they would strike straight south soon. Going across country to try at least to catch up was a better plan than it had seemed a few moments ago.

Plots on plots -- what if someone wants the boy to marry his girl? Getting Tilden to forbid the marriage in order to get the girls back would do that, and Sursha doesn't even have to enter into it. What if they want to make a political incident out of this, between Jkatha and Rethwellan? Making it look as if Sursha is behind it could easily do that. The trouble is -- the trouble is -- a lot of these plots end in murders.

"Warrl, we need you now," she told the kyree, and with a groan, he jumped down off the pillion-pad behind her into the ankle-deep snow. "We'll keep going as long as we can, then we'll stop for a rest and start as soon as there's light."

"Footing?" Jadrie said hesitantly. "For the horses? Shouldn't we have some light?"

Tarma followed in Warrl's wake before she answered, but this was practical knowledge for Jadrie. "If we didn't have Warrl, or if he was fresh, or if we were on anything but Shin'a'in horses, I would agree. Warrl is too tired to make more than a walk," she pointed out. "At that pace, we let the horses feel their own way. I don't want to advertise our presence with a light -- in conditions like this, you could see a light for leagues. Plus if the kidnappers have a mage, he might be able to sense a mage-light."

There was no more comment from Jadrie, so Tarma put the child out of her mind, and let Warrl lead them all onward, as the horses placed their hooves with deliberate care.

At this point, she wasn't anything more than a passenger; she folded her arms and rucked her hands into her belt, let her head sag, and dozed. If the damned sword wasn't making life too difficult for Kethry, she knew her partner was doing the same. Catch sleep whenever you can. The mares and Warrl would warn of danger long before it was visible, and they were too far behind the kidnappers for there to be any likelihood of stumbling into their camp. Of course Jadrie wasn't going to nap, and shouldn't, because she didn't have a battlemare, only a Shin'a'in-bred saddlemare. But Jadrie also had two advantages over her elders -- the first, that she wasn't expected to fight or track later and didn't need the extra sleep, and the second that she was decades younger than either Tarma or her mother and could go longer on less rest.

The horses plodded on into the thick darkness, as Tarma roused herself roughly every candlemark or so to check their bearings by Kethry and Need. As she had expected, some time within the first candlemark after darkness fell, the kidnappers turned south, and were probably on the trade road into Jkatha right at that moment. Probably camped. I hope the girls are all right, at least for now. It was some comfort to know that they were in a wagon, probably locked in there, and that the people who'd taken them were trained and disciplined. If all they were was terrified -- well, they could get over simple terror. There were other things that could happen to little girls that were harder to get over.

Including being murdered.

It was just after midnight that Warrl stumbled over a snow-covered branch, and admitted, :I'm done in, mindmate. We have to rest now. The track still says nothing has happened to the girls, and I can't go any further.:

Both mares stopped when Warrl did, and Jadrie's horse only went another pace or two further than that. "Right. We're stopping, Keth," Tarma called.

Kethry grunted a vague reply, and shook herself awake. As she and Tarma slid stiffly out of their saddles, Kethry kindled a very dim mage-light and Tarma looked around for a suitable campsite. There wasn't much, out here in an area of rolling hills mostly covered with scrub and very rough grasses, but a half-circle of snow-covered bushes gave a certain amount of protection from wind and watchers. She got Jadrie to help set up the tiny tent, and Kethry got out grain for the horses and took over the three packs and extinguished the light. Then, while Kethry laid blankets down on the floor and tucked their packs inside for safekeeping, Jadrie and Tarma unsaddled the horses, rubbed them down, and gave them their rations. She didn't need to hobble the battlemares, for they wouldn't wander, and to keep Jadrie's mare from strolling off, she simply fastened her halter to Ironheart's.

The tent was very small, but big enough for all three of them to lie down together, with a little room to spare for luggage. As Tarma had known she would, Kethry had set up a spell to keep it warm all night long, without a fire. She'd also done something to make the tent poles glow faintly (a glow that couldn't be seen from outside through the canvas) so that they could see to keep feet out of faces. Their blankets were to pad the tent floor beneath them, and to keep the cold from seeping into their bodies from below, not for warmth. It was possible that a mage could sense all this, but these were very minor magics, and well within the scope of just about any earth-witch or hedge-wizard.

Without being asked, Jadrie brought in a leather pail full of snow, and rucked it into the comer to thaw, then took one of the outside positions. Tarma took the other, putting Kethry into the "protected" position between them -- but then Warrl wriggled into the tent, somehow getting into the available space (what there was of it) and put himself between Jadrie and the tent wall. Kethry gave each of them a strip of dried meat and a piece of hard journey bread; they ate in silence and warmth and passed the water-skin back and forth until the thirst roused by salt-dried meat and bricklike bread was gone. Kethry extinguished the glow of the tent poles, and the silence seemed even deeper.

Then Kethry took a deep breath, and Tarma knew she was going to say something.

"You've been quiet, you've kept up, you've obeyed orders, and when you've said something, it's been sensible," the mage said softly into the darkness, and all of them knew which "you" was meant. "You've been a help instead of a hindrance."

"Thank you," Jadrie said in a small voice.

"I'm not glad you're here, kitten -- and all you have to do is think back on the ambush to know why." Her voice broke a little. "The idea that something like that could happen to you has me in knots. You're only a child. You aren't supposed to be seeing things like that."

Tarma heard jadrie swallow, then she said, "But -- I already have. How can we be sheltered when we're your children?"

"She's got you there, Greeneyes," Tarma said dryly.

"I promise, I promise, that unless you tell me to do otherwise, when we find these people, I'm going to stay far enough behind that I can run if I have to." Jadrie paused and then said, in a new and tearful voice, "But you have to promise that you won't let anything like that happen to you!"

It was almost a wail, and Kethry caught her daughter up in her arms, as Tarma grabbed a free hand and squeezed it.

"I can promise we'll try, kitten," Kethry said, in a voice nearly as hoarse as Tarma's.

And with that, they all sought uneasy sleep, and were exhausted enough to find it.

* * *

When you're sick, riding in a wagon is really a bad idea. By the time darkness fell, the seeds they'd eaten had taken full effect, and Kira really did feel sick; her stomach churned, there was a fat lump in her throat that kept making her gag, and her mouth felt sour and dry. In fact, she wasn't sure now that she could manage to keep her nausea under control much longer, which could make things really nasty in there. When the wagon stopped, she pounded on the door, and put desperation into her voice.

"Please!" she wailed, and fought back the nausea. "Let us out! We're sick!"

Footsteps creaked on snow just outside the door. "What do you mean, sick?" asked a suspicious voice from the other side.

"Please! I'm going to throw up!" she gulped, beginning to retch a little in spite of herself, and the door opened immediately.

"If you're faking--" the man began, but had no further chance to say anything, for Kira couldn't control her heaving stomach anymore, and threw up at his feet. He jumped back just in time to avoid being splattered, cursing.

"I'm-sorry-" She clapped her hand over her mouth, as tears rolled down her face from the pain of her bruised stomach muscles. He kicked snow over the mess and lifted her and Meri out with surprising care, seeing as she'd almost thrown up on him. Maybe he just didn't want to have to dodge the mess again.

I don't think he's angry, though.... "Please-" Meri gasped. "-where?" He pointed, and they ran for the bushes at the side of the camp, where they rid themselves of the dreadful little seeds, and everything else that was in their stomachs. Both of them were chilled, shaking and weak when they finished. Kira filled her mouth over and over with snow, spitting it out again to rid herself of that awful taste, and Meri did the same. Her hands shook, her head ached, and her stomach muscles were so sore she wanted to just lie down in the snow and never get up again. But she did, even though her knees threatened to collapse as she helped her twin to her feet. No one asked if they were all right, or came to help them.

But no one kept them from going to the fire instead of the wagon either, and they huddled together as close to the warmth as they could, eyes half-closed, holding hands. Surely the way they looked now would keep anyone from thinking they had it in them to try and escape. But now that the seeds were gone, every passing moment brought a little more relief and strength.

In spite of the -- now ebbing -- nausea, Kira saw quite a bit behind her eyelashes. They were on a road, or rather, in a camp just off of a road, so it was a good thing that she'd been dropping silk and beads were about twenty men in this group, which seemed like an awful lot to kidnap two little girls.

The man who'd let them out came over and poked Kira with his toe. "Hey, why're you sick?" he asked gruffly. He didn't seem unkind; in fact, there was some concern on his unshaven face. Although he wasn't anyone she would have picked for a friend, she sensed they might have a reluctant ally.

It was Meri who answered. "A lot of the students were sick before we left," she replied in a thin and weak-sounding voice. "I didn't think we'd get it, but I guess we did." She shivered and said in a half-moan, "I feel awful. I want to go home!"

"I told you there was nothing to worry about. It's just some childish ailment, and it will pass off in a day or so." The irritated voice out of the dark beyond the fire was a new one, and had an odd accent. Kira didn't place it, but Meri did.

She put her head down on Kira's shoulder, and pressed her mouth up near Kira's ear, as if she couldn't hold her head up any longer, "Jkathan," she whispered, a mere thread of sound.

The man who'd helped them seemed to feel a little sorry for them now; he hovered over them both for a moment, then went a few paces off and returned with a huge fur rug -- a bit motheaten and bare in patches, but warm. He wrapped it around both of them, and actually tucked it in awkwardly.

"I don't s'pose you want anything to eat?" he asked. "Beans ain't done, but they're cooking in broth, you could have a bowl of that an' bread."

Kira's gorge rose at the mere thought of eating, and she shook her head as violently as she dared. Right now, though, she'd have traded every valuable she had ever owned for a mug of willow tea for her aching head.

"Just sit there an' get warm, an' when you wanta sleep, take the rug into the wagon with you. I don' need it," he said gruffly, and left them alone.

There was a pot on the fire in front of them, which Kira's nose told her was the one that held the broth and some simmering beans; next to the fire was a stack of joumeybread, and a stack of bowls beside it. Good; the little seeds wouldn't stand out in a pot of beans. Hopefully, before they got chased into the wagon, her stomach would settle and she could slip the seeds into the pot under cover of getting bowls of broth for herself and Meri. If this was a camp like any other, the beans were for breakfast, as it would take that long for them to soften in the cooking enough to eat.

Meanwhile, she and Meri pretended to doze as sick children do, and she watched as much of the camp as she could see without moving her head. Slowly, her stomach settled; slowly her headache went away. The cold air helped, and so did the fact that they weren't moving anymore.

Although these men were dressed roughly, they didn't act like anything other than a well-trained group, accustomed to working together -- so the shabby clothing they had over their armor must have been a disguise. Three of them quickly put up a small but luxurious tent, got coals from the fire for a brazier to heat it, and brought in a generous amount of bedding, before arranging their own bedding beside the fire. Kira got a brief look at the tent's owner before he went inside and laced the door shut; he wasn't shabbily dressed, and she thought he was the owner of the Jkathan accent.

The rest of the men seemed to relax a little when he went inside his own little quarters, though they studiously ignored the girls' presence. Some of them had been hurt in the fight, and they took this opportunity to get each other bandaged properly. Kira was obscurely grateful that she hadn't known any of her own guards; it would have been horrible to sit there watching these people patch themselves up, while wondering which of them had been the murderer of someone she knew.

Some of the men went out of the camp and didn't come back -- they had gone out on guard duty, Kira was fairly certain, which made it less likely that she and Meri could slip away under cover of darkness. And even if we did, where would we go? I don't know where we are, and neither does Meri. "You've got to know your territory before you can hide easily, or find help.

Some of the men dipped out bowls full of broth to soak their bread in and sat down on their bedding to alternate broth-dipped bread with bites of dried meat. They didn't seem inclined to talk much, not even with their fellows; as soon as they finished their abbreviated meals, they crawled into their bedrolls and were soon snoring. Kira wondered how they could sleep so easily after the awful fight, after killing and being wounded. Shouldn't they be staring up at the sky, sleepless, or haunted by nightmares?

Maybe they don't care anymore.

The thought was too horrible, and she resolutely put it away. Feeling bad wasn't going to fix anything right now. What she and Meri needed do was to get their own plan in motion, to slow their captors down.

Maybe in the process, they'd find an opportunity to escape. "Want to go back to the wagon?" Kira whispered. "I'm feeling better."

"I could eat broth and bread -- if you were thinking of that." Meri squeezed her hand to show that she remembered the plan for Kira to doctor their kidnappers' food. "I'll take the robe back to the wagon, if you can bring food for both of us."

One of the men roused from sleep and watched them as they got up, but lost interest when they crept about with all the symptoms of still being ill and weak. Meri dragged the heavy robe back to the wagon and climbed inside; Kira feigned equal weakness and wobbled toward the fire.

She was afraid that the helpful fellow would show up and dip out the broth for her, but evidently he was on guard duty, and the only men still awake looked pointedly away from her. Maybe their consciences were bothering them -- here were these two poor little girls, obviously sick, who should have been at home in bed, not dragged about in a prison-wagon. That only made her subterfuge easier, and she whispered a little prayer of thanks as she made the most of her opportunity. The seeds were in a drawstring bag that matched one of Meri's dresses and had been meant to hang on her belt. The bag was up her sleeve, and she'd already unfastened the mouth of it. As she dipped out the second bowl of broth, a steady stream of seeds poured out of her sleeve into the pot, the splashing they made covered neatly by the noises she made dipping out the broth. She made sure to take enough bread to hide in the wagon for breakfast -- they would not want to share those beans, and could easily feign an attack of nausea to cover their disinterest in food. Once the caravan got back underway, they could eat the bread without fear of discovery.

She handed the food to Meri and climbed into the wagon herself, pleased to discover that Meri had taken the clothing in their packs and made a kind of nest out of it. "Hide most of that bread," she whispered, as she got in beside her sister and took back her bowl. "We'll need it for tomorrow."

She tasted her broth, and wished for Devid Cook; it wasn't horrible, but it was very flat, unseasoned, probably made by boiling unsalted dried meat. The journeybread wasn't any better, but when the bread was soaked in the broth it made a palatable mush that was warm, and it was probably better for their tender stomachs than real food would have been.

After that, there didn't seem anything more to do but sleep, so they curled up around each other to share the warmth of their bodies, and somehow, in spite of all the horrible things that had happened to them, they fell quickly and dreamlessly into sleep.

It wasn't even dawn when the camp roused and the men began packing things up, and not at all quietly either. There was a lot of cursing, groaning -- wounds had probably stiffened in the night, and so had muscles. Horses stamped and complained, harness jingled, but all of the sounds were very brisk and businesslike. They probably aren't taking any chances that someone might follow, Kira thought muzzily. They want to get as far away from the ambush as possible. The farther they are, the less likely that anyone will connect them to it.

Their helper poked his face into the wagon door just at that moment. "Need the bushes?" he asked. He looked friendlier today, and Kira found herself hoping he hadn't been part of the ambush. She didn't want to hate him.

They nodded, and he helped them out of the wagon again, then took them over to the side of the camp and pointed to some very thick evergreen bushes a little shorter than they were. "Keep your heads in sight, one of you, anyway," was all he said; they took the hint, went to the other side and relieved themselves quickly. At least he hadn't made them take care of it while he watched.

They continued to feign weakness and sickness as he escorted them back to the wagon. "Want breakfast? You won't get another chance till we stop, and that won't be until dark," he told them, and both of them shook their heads violently. "Right, then. In you go." Rather than wait for them to climb into the wagon, he picked each of them up in rum and left them on the floor. "Here-" He dropped in a water-skin beside them. "Got stomach troubles, you can't let yourself get all dried out. Drink that a bit at a time. Try and sleep; the less noise you make, the better off you'll be. He doesn't want any trouble, and he's not one to cross."

Then he closed the door, and once again, closed in the cold darkness, they heard the bar drop across it outside.

Well, this time at least we have food and water, that nice fur robe, and we've padded the floor. She didn't want to risk making any conversation that might be overheard, so she curled back up in the still-warm fur robe and after a moment of hesitation, Meri curled up beside her. She shoved their padding aside until she found the chink in the floor by the thin, weak light that came up through it, and got the knife, the paper cone, the bits of white silk, and the silver beads out of hiding.

Then they waited, listening to the sounds of the men moving around the camp outside. Some of them were speaking a language Kira didn't know, but Meri nodded when she looked askance at her sister. Jkathan, then. So why have Jkathans kidnapped us? It was all a frustrating puzzle.

Finally there were the sounds of jingling harness and horses' hooves, and the wagon moved as at least two horses were hitched up to it. There hadn't been a driver's seat on the front of what was essentially a plain box, so Kira decided that the kidnappers must be controlling the horses with one man riding on the near-side beast. That was the way that prison-wagons were often harnessed so that the prisoners inside would not get a chance to kill the driver; it would make sense for their kidnappers to use a prison-wagon to hold them. There was no chance they would be able to break out of it, and nothing for them to use as a weapon inside. As for getting attention or help from strangers, most people avoided prison-wagons like a curse, and if anyone did hear screaming and calling from one, they'd ignore it, even if it sounded like children were doing the screaming. There were plenty of ways a child could end up in a prison-wagon, all of them perfectly good reasons to lock such a child up. Madness, for one, which would make it highly unlikely that anything they shouted would be heeded or believed.

Well, she didn't need to make any trouble for their captors in here -- she'd already made enough out there. If everyone ate at least some of the beans, in a couple of candlemarks, they'd start to feel the effects. We only ate two seeds each, and there must have been dozens, maybe hundreds, in that bag. But they were cooking all night, and that might have weakened the brew. Or would it have concentrated? I wish I knew more about these things.

Finally the wagon lurched forward and bumped onto the frozen surface of the road. Meri got the journeybread out of hiding and offered her some. They shared the waterskin between them, but drank sparingly; neither of them doubted that their captor had been telling the truth, and that there would be no stops until nightfall. Well, no planned stops.

When she'd finished her tasteless chunk of bread, she laid the patch of floor bare, and under cover of the fur, began dropping beads and bits of silk to the road below. If the seeds affected their kidnappers at the same rate she and Meri had been affected, right about noontime things would start to get interesting.

* * *

In the uncertain light of false dawn they woke and packed everything up hastily. Warrl had recovered his strength completely, and was ready to go before they were, so he took the opportunity to run down a bunny for his breakfast. They were back on the trail before true dawn.

As Tarma had bleakly expected, the trail dead-ended on the traderoad, which had thawed and re-frozen, leaving an unreadable, hard, rutted surface. There was no trace of the wagon or the horses they'd been following. Even Warrl couldn't get a scent on a surface like that.

That would have been all right, since with Need to guide them, they knew which direction to go, but they hadn't gone a league before the road split into three, all of them going south. Pick the wrong one, and their quarry would get so far ahead they'd never catch up. She sat and swore, silently, staring at the damned triple-fork, as Warrl scouted ahead on the frozen surface, hoping for a trace of scent or some other miracle to give them a clue. Then, beyond expectation, the miracle occurred. :Mindmate!: the kyree called excitedly. :Here, the middle road! I have a patch of Kira's and Meri's scent!:

Now Tarma swore happily. "Warrl has a scent!" she called to the other two, and sent her mare loping down the uneven surface as they followed the kyree. Warrl went on ahead, reporting tiny patches of scent at uneven intervals, confirming that the first patch wasn't a fluke.

"What is he picking up?" Kethry asked, wonder-ingly. "What could he possibly be picking up?"

"I don't know," Tarma began, "Maybe one of them managed to rub a hand on a wheel, but you'd think he'd have picked that up before this-"

"I think I know!" Jadrie suddenly said, and urged her horse ahead of theirs. She dangled down from the saddle in a trick Tarma had taught her and snatched something tiny off the top of a rut without pausing, then turned her horse and came back to them. "Look!" she said in triumph, holding up a tiny thread of white. It didn't look like anything.

"What in-" Tarma went cross-eyed trying to look at it.

Jadrie grinned. "It's the white silk embroidery thread I gave Meri for Midwinter. Remember, you've trained Kira, and she knows she has to leave us something to follow. I bet they're cutting it up and dropping it out of the wagon."

"I bet you're right." She turned her attention to the kyree and thought at him. Warrl, if you lose the trail, check to either side of the road. You're following bits of silk, and they might blow off the road itself.

:Clever girls!: was his comment, and with that sure guide, they were able to increase their pace to the ground-eating lope that best suited the kyree, even when the road branched, and branched again.

By midmorning, they came upon the kidnappers' camp, with the scent of the girls all around it. The ashes of the fire were cold, but Tarma knew the kidnappers couldn't have increased their lead by much, if anything. Warrl reported that the girls had been sick, which didn't surprise Tarma at all, and didn't worry her too much. That was a natural reaction to what had happened to them, and it was encouraging to know that Warrl reported no signs that the children had been mistreated in any way -- no blood, no torn-out hair, the scent of fear but only what he would have expected. He would be able to scent a drop of blood too small to see; even bruised flesh would leave a "different" odor to his keen senses. And as for other kinds of abuse -- well, those would have left clear scents as well, and Warrl found nothing of the sort.

They didn't spend too much time at the campsite; there wasn't much it could tell them that they didn't already know. The snow was too trampled to tell how many men they were facing, though Warrl's guess was around twenty. There was one place where a small tent had clearly been set up, and that meant these kidnappers had a leader, someone who considered himself too superior to the others to sleep beside the fire with the rest of them. There was no scent of the girls at that spot, and it wasn't likely they'd be allowed out of their prison, especially at night, so the tent had to belong to the leader.

They set off in much less than a candlemark, and when the road forked again, Warrl ranged up both forks until he found another bit of silk, giving them the right direction. But it wasn't until they came across a horse-dropping that was still faintly warm that Tarma knew for certain that they would be able to catch up to the kidnappers.

Twenty men against the two of us? Well, I'm sure Leslac would assume it was no contest, but I'm not that sanguine. Still, if they'd camped last night, they would probably do the same tonight; they could stay out of spotting range with Warrl to scout, and creep up on the camp tonight.

"We're catching up -- which means we'd better think of something. Keth, I don't suppose you could cast some sort of magic that would put them all to sleep, could you?" she asked, a little doubtfully. After all, she'd never seen Kethry do anything of the kind -- but it was worth asking about.

Beside her, the sorceress tucked her hair under her hood as she replied, moving easily with her horse. "That only happens in childrens' tales and bad melodrama," Kethry said, then shrugged an apology. "Sorry, but that's how it is. Even if I could, it would be a sure bet that men as organized as these are would have a countering magic in effect. I see your point, it would be convenient if we could put the whole encampment to sleep and just pluck the girls out of it." She chewed her lower lip. "Let me think about it, and I'll tell you what I can do, other than call lightning down on them, or something equally spectacular and dangerous."

"Spectacular would be a bad idea," Tarma agreed, and Jadrie nodded, so she added for Jadrie's benefit, "Because-?"

"We don't know who these people are or where they're going; we don't know who is watching for them or coming to meet them. Doing something spectacular could bring down more trouble than we can deal with." Jadrie had that lesson by heart, at least. "The ideal thing would be to draw them out of the camp, one at time, and pick them off that way," Kethry mused. "But we'd have to do it quickly enough that they wouldn't notice until we'd whittled their numbers down to a manageable size."

"We'd need something to draw them out," Tarma pointed out. "As fast as they're trying to go, I doubt that they're going to stop to hunt, no matter how tempting the game looks. I just can't think of anything likely to bring them out one at a time."

"Maybe something will occur to us." Kethry dismissed all speculations, and glanced up at the overcast sky. "Maybe I can do something with the weather. Or maybe I could cast a glamour to make them think they are under attack by a large force,"

:Mindmate-: Warrl's "voice" was attenuated by distance. :I believe you had better stop now and come in carefully. They've been forced to camp.: There was savage good humor in his thoughts. :Evidently whatever made the children ill is ... contagious. Or it has been made to seem so. I'll come back and meet you halfway.:

* * *

When the effect of the seeds struck, it was fortunately quite gradual, so it didn't look like the mass poisoning it really was.

Just about noontime, the men who had eaten the most began to sicken. Although the girls couldn't make out exactly what was happening, Kira heard voices strained and distressed, then sounds she thought meant that riders were dropping back for a moment, then returning -- and each time that happened, the wagon slowed a little more. The leader was annoyed at first, then angry, but there wasn't anything he could do about it -- the men weren't in control of their stomachs anymore, their stomachs were in control of them.

Kira and Meri exchanged grins in the semidarkness of the wagon; after all, only one of the men out there had offered to help even a little when they were sick, and it seemed fitting revenge that no one wanted to help the kidnappers now.

"They probably don't even have any herbs or anything to make them feel better," Meri whispered, in ill-concealed glee.

"Probably not, or I bet they'd have drugged us to keep us quiet," Kira agreed.

Finally the wagon stopped altogether, and Kira definitely heard a rider slide off the near-side horse and make a stumbling run for the bushes. At that point, the leader roared some angry commands and when the wagon moved again, it was only a short distance.

Someone unbarred the door, but didn't open it. When Kira pushed on it tentatively, it moved, and she cautiously stuck her head out.

From the look of things, virtually every man in the group was suffering, but not all of them were hit as badly as the others. The healthiest three were guarding the wagon, looking pale and unhappy. The worst off could not be seen at all, but from the sounds of it, they were off in the bushes, throwing up everything, including their toenails. A couple, including their lone ally, had collapsed on hastily-spread blankets beside a small fire. They looked absolutely green, and Kira didn't think that a single gut-wrenching purge was going to help them get over the effects of the seeds. No, they were going to be visiting the bushes quite frequently, until every bit of the poison worked itself out of their systems.

The only man totally unaffected was the leader, probably because he had his own private stock of food, and now Kira got a good look at him. There wasn't much that was memorable about him; of average height, weight, and coloring, brown hair and brown eyes, and only his air of authority and the fine cut and fabric of his otherwise plain garments marked him as different. Even so, there was no way to tell that he wasn't what he seemed, either a prosperous merchant, or some other well-off professional, such as a sheriff or an alderman. At the moment, he scowled so furiously that Kira was very glad she wasn't under his command. He was taking the illness of his men very personally, as if they were doing it to make trouble just for him.

She looked around, making certain that she didn't attract attention to herself by moving too much, but there wasn't much that was memorable about this place. Just like the last spot, they had stopped in a cleared place at the side of the road, this time in a little depression between two hills. She had no idea where they were, and there was no sign of any habitation, not even a thin stream of smoke rising from some far-off farmhouse chimney. There were low, scrubby trees and thick bushes, a thin cover of ankle-deep snow, and not much else. The hills themselves were bare of significant cover, which would give anyone atop one a good view of the countryside. She wondered if any of the men would have the strength to climb up there to stand sentry, and privately doubted it.

If I just had some idea where to go, we might be able to get away tonight, she thought with rising hope. Maybe if we just stuck to the road, we'd be able to find an inn or a farm or something....

A hint of movement atop the hill to their rear caught Kira's eye, and she withdrew a little into the wagon so the leader of their kidnappers wouldn't see her interest. She waited to see if something appeared again. She tried to tell herself that it was only a far-off animal, perhaps a wild cow or donkey; tried not to get her hopes up too much. But she thought there had been something familiar in that half-seen shape and the way it had moved.

Would it appear again, or was it just a trick of her eyes and the hope that someone would come to save them? As she watched, holding her breath, that half-familiar silhouette did appear, just for a moment, leaping up onto the top of the hill and back down again. Her heart jumped into her throat, and when it happened a third time and she was sure of what she'd seen, she stuffed her fist into her mouth to stifle an inadvertent cry of joy that would surely have betrayed them.

No sound escaped, but Meri grabbed her shoulder, seeing her excitement. She motioned for silence, curled up into the fur and Meri cuddled up with her, then she pulled the fur over their heads to muffle her whispers. She didn't dare take a chance that there might be someone near enough to the wagon to overhear them.

"Warrl's out there," she hissed. "I saw him." That was all Meri had to hear; she knew what it meant. Warrl meant Tarma, and Tarma meant Kethry. If anyone could get them out of this, it would be their teachers! Meri hugged her hard in a fit of repressed excitement.

"Let's see if they'll let us use the bushes," Meri hissed. "That way you -- know will see us and know we're all right, and they'll know we're in the wagon. If we get locked in tonight, they'll know where we are." Now that was a good thought, and after a moment or two to make sure she wasn't going to betray herself by looking healthy and excited, Kira went to the door of the wagon and slowly lowered herself to the ground. Actually, her stomach muscles still ached, and she was so stiff from being cramped up on the floor of the wagon that she didn't have to feign that much.

No one said anything, and Meri followed her. Holding onto each other like a pair of feeble old women, keeping their eyes on the ground and avoiding looking at anyone or anything, they moved cautiously toward a stand of the thick evergreens they'd used this morning. They stayed there just long enough to seem convincing, then, with their heads still down, plodded wearily back to the wagon.

We're such meek, obedient little things -- and sick, very sick. We're no threat, we'll be no trouble, we're harmless, absolutely harmless.

Suddenly there was a pair of shiny, expensive black boots between them and the wagon.

Kira raised her eyes, slowly. In the boot were legs, clad in fine woolen trews of charcoal gray. The legs merged into a torso wrapped in a handsome fur-lined cape of matching wool. Her eyes traveled slowly up the chest to the face, a face with angry eyes and a bitter mouth, wearing a scowl that froze the blood in her veins.

The man who was responsible for their current predicament had taken an interest in them, and it wasn't out of concern for their health.

She felt blood draining out of her face, and had the irrelevant thought that at least she wouldn't have to try and feign being pale and ill. Her knees shook so hard that she was afraid they might to go jelly at any moment. What did he want? Why was he looking at them like that? Surely he didn't suspect that she had poisoned the food! After all, she and Meri had been the very first to be ill, and their "symptoms" were the same as the men's.

She felt herself starring to shake as those eyes, so full of anger, looked her over as if she was a particularly shabby bit of merchandise that he might keep or might discard.

She didn't want to move, didn't want to do anything that would cause him to focus on her. Nevertheless, she had a duty; she interposed herself between the man and Meri, and met his cold, cold eyes.

He spat something that could only have been a curse, though it was not in a language that Kira knew. She stood her ground, still looking up at him, but doing her best to look fragile and pathetic, rather than combative. "Fragile and pathetic," wasn't her strong suit, but she leaned heavily on remembering times when Meri had managed to get out of trouble by doing just that. How had she looked? What had her expression been? Meri was better at this than she was....

She opened her eyes as wide as they would go, let her lower lip pout out a little and tremble, and thought desperately sad thoughts -- that they might never see home again, or the school, the horrible fight, how afraid she was. The last wasn't very hard to do, with that awful man glaring at them as if he held them personally responsible for everything that was going wrong.

Of course they were, but that was beside the point. I need to cry, but not blubber. A runny nose and red face is just going to disgust him. Tears, but artistic ones. She wasn't sure how she knew that, but she was certain of it. By widening her eyes and tilting her head so that the dry breeze hit them, she managed to get them to water, which would pass very nicely for tears.

One huge, fat drop rolled down her right cheek. Two more followed, one on the left and another on the right.

He was unmoved. She sniffed delicately, and another couple of tears coursed in the paths of the others. He was never going to feel sorry for them, but maybe, maybe, she might awaken a tiny twinge of shame for picking on two little girls and making them miserable. She let the tears flow, keeping her eyes glued to his the entire time.

It seemed to work. He cursed again, and looked away -- then angrily turned and stalked toward on of his men that was still standing. For a moment Kira couldn't move, and shook all over. In his anger at being delayed, he was looking for some ready target to discharge that anger on. And she sensed that he might be rethinking his plans to match the current conditions.

He was thinking about doing something awful. To us. Oh, Goddess, that was too close....

From the way her twin sister was shivering, Meri also knew how close it had been.

Finally, when she figured she could make her legs move without collapsing, she led Meri back into the wagon and they climbed slowly in, to hide in their fur robe. Maybe if they stayed out of sight and completely quiet, he'd forget about them for now.

* * *

The view from the top of the hill was excellent, and it was even possible to hear a certain amount of sound from the camp below. Scrubby brush made fine cover to a pair of experienced (if out-of-practice) scouts. "They aren't going anywhere," Tarma said at last, as she watched the leader pitch his own damned tent. "Whatever's made them sick, it's keeping them here until tomorrow at best, and their commander is furious. And look at those three-" she pointed her chin at three recumbent forms wrapped in sleeping rolls. "They haven't moved at all since their last bout. I think they're going to need to sleep until noon tomorrow at the earliest."

"Mmm," Kethry agreed, watching the activity below. For two former scouts of their experience, this surveillance was routine; although a civilian would have said that these hilltops were barren, there was more than enough cover for them to hide in.

Everything was going exceptionally well, all things considered. The twins had seen Warrl, as Tarma had hoped they would when the door of the wagon eased open. Smart of them, to go out as if they needed to relieve themselves, but do nothing. That was as clear a sign that they knew help was out here as if they'd shouted and waved.

Now -- how to separate out the kidnappers? Warrl's estimate appeared to be correct, and twenty was far too many for two women and a kyree to take on. No matter how sick they appeared to be, most of them were not as depleted as the three comatose beside the fire. If they thought they were under attack, it would be amazing how quickly they would recover.

"If this was anywhere near a city, I'd be tempted to send you down there to shake your hips at them and lure them into the bushes one at a time, Keth," she murmured.

Kethry snorted. "At my age? I'd need a hell of a glamour to pull that off," she retorted. "You'd better think of something else to lure them off. Even at my youthful best, I was never so stunning that men would chase after me with all the blood gone from their brains into their-"

She stopped, and something in the silence made Tarma turn her head the little it took to see her face.

It was dead white.

What would turn her that white? There's nothing going on down in the camp ... if must be what we were talking about. How to lure the men out one at a time. And -- oh-- "You know what will get them to hare off," Tarma said instantly, as she saw the thought, too. "We'd have to wait until after dark, though."

Kethry closed her eyes and clenched her jaw; this had to seem like one of her worst nightmares come true. But Tarma didn't see that they had any better options.

"Warrl will be with her," Tarma reminded her. "You don't think I'd send her down there without him, do you? And she won't be that far from you -- and she's not only female, she's your daughter. If Need won't fight for her, I'll eat her scabbard without sauce."

By now Jadrie must have known something was up, but she hadn't translated it for herself. It was a wonder she wasn't fidgeting right out of her clothes.

"And that's the only reason I'd let her." Kethry let out the breath she'd been holding in a long hiss, and opened her eyes again. She looked at Tarma, doing her best to mask her fear, and failing completely. "You tell her; you're her teacher, and her commander."

"Tell me what?" Jadrie whispered, a whisper as tense and electric as a shout.

"You have a task, and it isn't to go back up the road and wait," Tarma said evenly, without removing her eyes from Kethry's. "We're going to need you to do something only you can do. We have to lure the men down there out one at a time, and for that we'll need bait. You're the bait."

"Me?" Jadrie squeaked, her eyes huge and round. "What about an illusion? Can't-"

"I think the man leading this group is a mage," Kethry said evenly. "And we don't want to give our presence away by using magic unless we absolutely have to."

Tarma nodded. "You're going to make them think that either Kira or Meri is trying to run away. In the dark, none of those men will realize that you're bigger and older than the twins. All they'll see is a child trying to sneak through the underbrush." She saw the reasonable doubt in her pupil's eyes, and was pleased with it. "I'll explain later in detail why we think that the men will just chase after you instead of shouting for help; just trust that we're sure enough to bet our lives on it. It has to be you; neither of us is small enough to pull off a convincing imitation of a child."

There was a long silence, then Jadrie nodded. "All right," she whispered. "Tell me what I'll be doing."

* * *

Kira and Meri stayed hidden in the wagon as their kidnappers slowly recovered. By nightfall the worst of their sickness was over, and although they probably felt weak as kittens and wanted to sleep for days, they weren't losing everything they put into their stomachs. The leader stopped cursing, and someone managed to get a pot of broth started. Both girls sighed, and relaxed a little.

Kira had been afraid that their plan was going badly awry; after that single encounter in the snow, she had known beyond a shadow of doubt that if the kidnappers' plot looked in danger of falling apart, the leader would never hesitate to kill both of them.

But now it was getting increasingly urgent that they actually do what they'd pretended to earlier. Finally, a long, weary time after full darkness fell, they couldn't wait any longer.

No one stopped them, no one said anything to them -- in fact, as they crossed the snow, hand in hand, the camp seemed far too quiet.

It made Kira, at least, very nervous, and if she hadn't had to go so badly, she'd have turned around and scuttled back to the dubious safety of the wagon. When they'd finished, they moved off a little deeper into the bushes, reluctant to traverse the dangerously open ground of the camp again. The darkness and the concealing brush were very tempting, as was the knowledge that there was help waiting out there.

"Twin-" whispered Meri, "I wonder if we could get away while they're so sick-"

"That," said a Jkathan-accented voice, "would be a very bad idea, little child."

They whirled as one, and a shadow separated itself from the darker shadows behind them, taking on man-shape until it moved to where light shone on its face. Kira's face burned at the notion that he had been watching them all this time.

"Then again," the leader continued, "if I were to rid myself of you troublesome little creatures right here, no one would ever know what I had done until spring. And by then, of course, it would be too late, I would be well away, and at least part of my plans would have been salvaged."

Once again, Kira interposed herself between the man and her twin, although this time she made no effort whatsoever to look frail and pathetic. She felt detached from herself, and she watched everything he did as well as what he said, trying to predict what he was going to do in the next moment. What could she say or do that would make him leave them alone? She knew that all she needed was to buy enough time-

"You won't get a ransom without us alive," Kira said, trying to keep her voice from shaking. "Father isn't stupid, and he isn't going to send ransom money without seeing us alive. You know that if you get rid of us, your men will know that, too, and they'll figure there's nothing to get a share of. They won't like that, and there's twenty of them and only one of you, and you've been awful mean to them."

"Threatening me with the revolt of my own men?" The man sounded surprised, and his voice lost that faint trace of cruel amusement. "You're more dangerous than I thought." His tone hardened and took on an edge Kira would only recognize later, much later, when she encountered another man the world called "fanatic."

"As it happens, ransom is the least of my interests. My intention is to prevent your filthy out-land sister from sullying the purity of the Blood Royal by wedding the Prince of our land. Ransom is secondary, and always has been, a mere convenience to offset certain expenses. If I need to change my plans to exclude the ability to ransom you, I would not hesitate to do so."

"You can't-" Meri began, then clapped her own hand over her mouth.

He leveled his gaze on her and she shrank to hide behind Kira. "I can, foreign child of a foreign whore," he said conversationally. "And although I would prefer to do so without taking your lives on my soul, I am beginning to think you are too dangerous to leave on this side of eternal judgment."

* * *

Jadrie moved in past the man relieving himself, creeping along on her belly like a rabbit under cover of the brush, freezing every time she heard a twig snap or thought she might have disturbed a branch. The hiss of liquid on snow covered her little mistakes, though, and it probably didn't hurt this man was still thinking more about the state of his stomach than about possible enemies. Now she was grateful for all of the hours spent learning to do this very thing, grateful that Tarma had taught her so well she could creep up on a dozing deer without waking it. Only when she was past the kidnapper and between him and the camp did she stand up.

Then she began sneaking through the scrub the way a common child would -- moving slowly, but not slowly enough, and disturbing plenty of twigs and branches on the way. Sure enough, the man saw her movement, then saw only a child trying to escape, and cursed, leaping to exactly the conclusion they wanted.

"Get back here, you brat!" he spat -- but not so loudly that he would alert anyone else. Jadrie knew why, another lesson in reading the state of an enemy camp. The leader of these men tolerated very little in the way of weakness, and nothing in the way of failure. This man and his fellows were already in disgrace because of their illness, and the leader's temper was in no fit state to be disturbed. The men were afraid of incurring further wrath, sick, and not thinking very clearly. This man, confronted by a harmless child running off, would not admit that he could not catch her himself. He would not raise a hue-and-cry, because that would cause the leader to punish all of them for allowing the child to escape in the first place. He would not want to waste time going back quietly for help -- time in which the child could escape. He was like a coursing-hound with a rabbit starting up just under his nose; all of him focused on pursuit to the exclusion of everything else.

And that was what made this whole plan possible. Tarma and Warrl had already taken care of the sentries, but there was a camp full of men to be eliminated before the partners could effect a rescue. Jadrie had already played this ruse twice; this was the third time, and it continued to work.

At the first word, she looked back over her shoulder, and broke into a run. Reacting just like a hunting hound, the man remembered only that if the leader discovered the girl had slipped past him, he would be in horrible trouble, and sped after her.

She led him on a path she had already scouted, and to a destination of her own choosing, over the hill and into the valley on the other side. She looked back over her shoulder from time to time, but he wasn't putting on any unexpected bursts of speed.

Even if he does, she thought, panting, there's always Warrl. Warrl, who was running alongside him, invisible in the darkness. Warrl, who could make a single leap and tear out his throat before he could shout....

But that wasn't where she was leading him; Warrl was only her backup. When he was far enough from the camp that no sound he would make could alert the other kidnappers, he learned that it isn't wise to run into unknown territory after even the most tempting of targets.

It was a lesson he would never profit by, however, though perhaps his ghost would be comforted by the fact that his teacher was the famous Need.

While her mother cleaned Need's blade, Jadrie went back in search of another victim, glad that it had been too dark for her to really see the end-game of each stalk. She wasn't-quite-ready for that. Better not to think about it for now.

Better concentrate on narrowing their odds. At some point -- soon -- the odds would be with them. She went back into the scrub and headed for the welcome yellow eye that was the campfire.

As she slipped through the brush, Warrl appeared beside her. She didn't start, perhaps because she had attuned herself so closely to these scrubby woods and her erstwhile partner that she had anticipated him before he actually arrived.

:Another,: he said in her mind. :This way.:

She followed him, as she had done the last two rimes. She suspected that he might be fiddling with the minds of their enemies, too subtly for detection. They certainly were drinking an awful lot of water, with the attendant requirement to go rid themselves of it. And they weren't thinking, either -- or they would have noticed that three of their number had gone out and not come back yet.

But maybe Warrl wasn't doing anything. After being so sick, the men were surely very thirsty. Maybe it was just sheer luck.

Maybe she wasn't going to argue the point.

This time she lured her quarry to Tarma; that was her choice, when she had one. Tarma was only braining the men with a stout log; it was her mother, under the influence of Need, who was wreaking sheer havoc on the hapless enemy. Now Jadrie really understood some of the comments that Tarma had made in the past about the sword, and she was altogether glad that she wasn't going to inherit such a troublesome treasure. Granted, Need's abilities could come in handy, but the idea of an inanimate object that was so downright bloodthirsty made her feel more than a little sick herself.

The man looked up as she deliberately broke a twig, and sighed instead of cursed. "Little one -- don't run," he said with weary patience as she looked back at him. "There is nowhere to go, not even a shepherd hut for leagues and leagues. You are sick, you will die of cold. Come back to the wagon-"

She ran, glancing back. He shook his head and lumbered after her, still calling to her.

"I will catch you sooner or later," he promised. "Then I will have to carry you back and lock you in. Do you truly wish to be locked in?"

She was a little ashamed at leading this fellow to an ambush, even if he was an enemy. He seemed to be the only one who was treating her friends with any sort of kindness.

At least it'll be Tarma, and the worst he'll have is a horrible headache-

Her thoughts were interrupted by a dull thud and the sound of someone crumpling into the brush and hitting the ground.

"Hated to do that, but better me than Keth," Tarma whispered. "At least we know we saved the one decent one. Now go get me another, kitten, you're doing fine."

* * *

Kira swiftly drew her tiny knife from her boot, and stared at the leader, menacing him as best she could. He looked down at the slender blade in mild surprise.

"Stay away from us," she told him. "I don't want to hurt you."

"What a pity I need to kill you, child," he said. "You prove more entertaining by the moment." He regarded her as he would have examined a particularly interesting insect, and she felt very much like a poor little bug that was about to be squashed.

I can't kill him -- maybe if I hurt him, Meri can get away-- But she knew with a sudden sick feeling that she couldn't even manage that; maybe if she'd been older, bigger, maybe if she'd seen and done more, but not now. Not when she was too small to take him bare-handed, not when it wasn't a daydream, not when she knew what human blood looked like. Her hand started to shake.

I'll just keep him occupied long enough for Meri to run. That was all she could manage.

He stepped toward her a pace, with his hands spread wide. He wasn't holding his own knife; he wasn't even trying to grab her. What did he think he was doing?

His next words told her. "So -- let me see what you are made of. Let me see if a foreign child has half the courage of a Jkathan child." His sardonic smile told her that he really didn't expect her to show even an ounce of courage. "Come at me! Do what you will! I will not even stop you! A child of my people would be at my throat like a mad dog by now!" His eyes taunted her. "What? Have you no stomach to make good on your threats?"

She brandished her knife at him, backing up into the brush, which crackled beneath her feet. Meri backed up with her, crazily staying behind her, even as Kira screamed silently at her to run while she had the chance.

He advanced, another slow step, then another. He laughed. "Use that little blade, girl!" he taunted.

She tried -- she tried to force herself to stab at him, and she couldn't. She just couldn't.

Why is he doing this? To get me to come within reach so he can just break my neck? She continued to back up, as he loomed between her and the camp, dark and menacing against the glow of the distant fire.

Why is he playing with us like this?

It struck her that he was enjoying himself. He liked seeing the terror on her face, liked feeling so completely in control of the situation.

"You're nothing but a big bully!" she shouted angrily at him. "You just want people to be afraid of you so you can feel important!"

"Little girls should not taunt their elders," he admonished her. "And there are plenty of people who will fear me in the days to come. Think how privileged you are to be the first to taste that terror!"

In answer, she made an abortive rush at him, slashing her knife toward his face, but darted back when he reached out to seize her as she had expected he would.

At this point, she really wasn't thinking anymore. She was observing and reacting, at a level of analysis that was almost instinct, knowing that if she did this, he would respond with that. As long as she could keep this game going, they would live a little longer. As long as she could observe and react, she wouldn't crumble under the weight of her fear.

But it seemed that he was getting impatient, tired of the game, wanting to bring it to its conclusion.

"What? You dare not strike, even when you know I will kill you? Even when I swear not to defend myself?" A cruel chuckle emerged from his lips. "What a pity; I had even come to like you, a little. Oh, it would not have saved you, but I would see that you were properly buried and not left for scavengers. But since you haven't the courage of a jackal, it is fitting that you go to feed them. It is too bad that you have no stomach to use a weapon against another-"

He broke off his sentence to stare stupidly at the length of shining, pointed steel protruding through his chest.

"Fortunately," Kethry snarled, "We don't have that problem."

And as he fell, Meri and Kira ran to Tarma's outstretched arms.

"Come on, kittens," she said as she gathered them up. "Let's go home."

* * *

Children, kittens and puppies tumbled over one another in a shrieking, joyful mass in the middle of the nursery, a large room lined with shelves upon which resided the battered but beloved toys of a houseful of children. It was just as well that the toys had all been put away, for no doll or wooden horse could ever survive the melee of bodies in the middle of the room. At the moment, it was difficult to count how many there were of each species, but there was no doubt of how happy they all were. Warrl reclined at the sidelines, an indulgent and benevolent presence standing in for adult authority.

"Well, I don't think they're going to kill each other, and I do think your Midwinter present is a success, Tilden," Kethry laughed, as three of the mastiff pups together broke from the mass and attacked Warrl's tail. Warrl ignored them, and after a few futile attempts to make the tail do something, the pups galloped back to the larger pile. Even the Archduke's eldest girl, the quiet scholar who considered herself an adult at thirteen, had joined in the romp.

"I was afraid you might be annoyed when I descended on you with more livestock," their old friend replied, eyes twinkling. "But I could hardly have given the girls their pets and not have brought identical offerings for your brood."

Tarma laughed, and slapped him on the back. "You show a fine grasp of diplomacy in your old age," she told him. "And since the manners and morals of the nobility often resemble those of children, I predict you are going to go far in your political career. Let's go off to somewhere where we can talk without having to scream at each other. We can leave Warrl in charge of maintaining a pretense of order and let them sort out which animal belongs to who by themselves."

Tilden's chief Midwinter presents to all of the children consisted of one Brindle Mastiff puppy and one Arborn Hunting Cat kitten for each child old enough to appreciate and care for their pets. With sound judgement, he had left the animals in the nursery and brought in the children, but had not parceled out particular animals for each. Hunting Cats and Mastiffs were about the same size and strength, were often kenneled and trained together and would be perfectly happy paired up together.

"Good idea," seconded Jadrek, who winced as a particularly piercing shriek split the air.

The adults returned to Kethry's solar, which was just large enough to seat all of them without anyone feeling crowded rather than cozy. The furniture was of good quality, but with the touch of shabby comfort about it that furnishings often acquire in a house where there are many well-loved children. Tilden looked around and nodded -- with satisfaction, Tarma thought.

"You know," said the Archduke, when they were all settled -- and in some cases, sprawled -- comfortably in front of the fire, "this has been such a pleasant Midwinter, I'm tempted to ask you to invite us again next year."

"In spite of the circumstances?" Tarma asked, arching an eyebrow at him.

"Absolutely." Tilden nodded his handsome head, and his wife gave silent agreement. "The twins have no real friends at home, and to be brutally frank, I dread Midwinter Court -- it's when every social-climber and bore in the Kingdom shows up to rub elbows with the great and the pretenders, then goes home to drop names to impress his provincial friends. I'd be just as happy to have an excuse to come here instead of bringing the twins home for the holidays every year. It wouldn't be any more difficult to get up a caravan for us to come here. Easier, in some ways -- my guards would only be making one round trip instead of two."

Unspoken was the clear and obvious fact that no one in his right mind, however bold and fanatic, would attack the Archduke and his retinue. Not with Tilden's reputation as a warrior.

"Tilden!" his wife laughed. "How can you say that about our worthy peers?"

"Our worthy peers are so preoccupied with sucking up to the King that he could set them on fire and they'd thank him for the honor," Tilden replied brutally. "And I'm glad to be among friends with whom I can speak my mind for a change, instead of mouthing polite idiocy and trying not to feel as if I ought to be scraping them off my boots." He turned to Tarma, and she shrugged.

"Don't look at me," she declared. "I'm just a barbarian nomad with no sense of rank or decorum, remember? You can keep your Courts; I don't want any part of them."

"You're well out of it, and I wish I'd had your sense and declined the damned title," Tilden grumbled, yet with a smile. "You have no idea what those of us who actually do some work have to put up with from the drones. Listen to this, will you-"

She sat back and enjoyed Tilden's witty, acerbic commentary on the current crop of Rethwellan nobility, as his wife added sweetly pointed asides and Jadrek commented on the lineage (or lack of it) where each was concerned. It was wonderful to have Tilden and his family here; she'd forgotten how much she enjoyed his sharp tongue and razor wit. And of course, Jadrie was thrilled, for she not only had her best friends here for the holiday, but she had a new friend in the shape of Tilden's eldest daughter Arboli. However scholarly Arboli might be, she was also the daughter of a bodyguard and a Horsemaster -- she rode like a Shin'a'in and could hold her own in rough games and contests. She couldn't match even Kira in swordwork, but she was wickedly accurate with a snowball and was endlessly inventive in coming up with new amusements to act out.

As for Kethry's twins, they were overjoyed at having a whole new set of playmates, even if those playmates were girls. Even the two youngest played happily together -- insofar as any two strange toddlers could play together. At least it was with a minimum of squabbles.

There was never any question of Kira and Meri going back to their father after their ordeal -- they were still sick from the effects of cold, fear, and the seeds they'd eaten, and the new Healer in the village insisted they remain in bed at the school so that she could make certain there would be no lasting effects from their experience. They ate as if they were hollow, and slept when they weren't eating, for three days straight.

Meanwhile Kethry had gotten messages to their father telling him what had happened. While the twins were recovering, Tilden had made his excuses to the King, packed up the entire family, and headed at top speed for the school, with the baggage train following at an easier pace. And when he and his retinue appeared on the doorstep, Tarma wasn't at all surprised to see them. She'd expected him to do exactly that -- and if he had been hesitant, his wife Diona would have overcome that hesitation.

The first day was spent with Tilden and Diona closeted with the twins, not even coming out for meals. The other children circled each other like wary dogs for half a day, then made up their minds to be friends and went out for snowfights. When Tilden and Diona emerged, they didn't say anything, but they spent part of the second day closeted with Kethry, then joined the rest of the company and acted as if they had come here only for the pure pleasure of the trip.

Today was Midwinter Day, and with it the start of three days of gift-giving and feasting, which thus far had managed to keep everyone off of serious subjects. The one surprise Tilden had managed to pull off was the magical production of the litter of kittens and puppies. Tarma still had no idea how he'd managed to keep their existence a secret.

Then again, in a baggage-train the size an Archduke has, I suppose you could probably keep just about anything secret for a few days.

Still, the one subject that had not been broached was the kidnapping, and Tarma was waiting. They were just about due for it now.

The same thing seemed to occur to everyone else in the room at about the same moment, for an awkward silence fell, and Tilden cleared his throat carefully.

"I want to thank you," he began, a bit stiffly, as if he wasn't quite sure what to say. "Although thanks is inadequate-"

'Tilden-" Kethry began, but he hushed her rather fiercely.

"I made mistakes. I knew about the fanatics and I didn't take them seriously. I certainly never thought they would dare to strike inside the borders of Rethwellan! I sent green untrained men instead of experienced men, and I gave them the impression that this would be more of an excursion than a serious duty." He shook his head. "Those were all my mistakes, and if it hadn't been for your quick thinking and quick action -- well, I don't know what would have happened, but I can't imagine anything good coming out of this disaster."

"The twins are as much responsible for their rescue as we are," Tarma pointed out. "They were the ones who thought of slowing down their kidnappers, and they were the ones who laid a clear trail for us to follow."

"Because they were well taught," Tilden insisted. "Because of that, they didn't panic, and they didn't assume they were helpless because they were children in the hands of adults. You taught them to think that way."

"You can't teach that," Kethry replied. "That's something a child learns from the way she is treated, and it begins in infancy. No, Tilden, be as grateful to your own sense in raising and teaching your girls as you are to us."

"Have you informed Sursha about this yet?" Jadrek asked shrewdly. "I know Kethry has sent off a report to the King, and I expect that you have as well."

"I was waiting to talk to the girls and get Kethry's description of the leader before I sent word to Sursha," Tilden replied grimly. "I think now that this should be delivered by someone I can trust completely, but I don't quite know who-"

"How about me?" Ikan offered. "I know my way around down there; I could go and be back again before spring thaw. Sooner, with a change of horses. Justin and Tarma can handle the boys without me for that long."

Tarma laughed. "I might accuse you of trying to get out of some hard work if I didn't already know how miserable winter is in Jkatha; you're going to be in for a cold, soppy ride. Of course we can spare you; this is too important to be left to an ordinary messenger."

Tilden sighed with relief. "Thank you, and now I'm further in your debt. I suppose I'll have to put up the money to build a dormitory for the school or something of the like."

"Actually-" Kethry got a thoughtful look on her face. "Why don't you hunt up some mage-gifted children from impoverished families and sponsor them here? There's a limit to the number of charity students a school can afford, even ours."

Diona's eyes brightened, and Tilden nodded decisively. "Good plan, I'll see to it." His face clouded a little. "I have a real concern though, about these fanatics. Are there more of them? Would they consider coming here, do you think?"

Tarma looked to Kethry, who shook her head. "Not as far as my sources have been able to discover," she told him. "And believe me, I have been very, very thorough. I intend to fortify the warning systems I've put in place as well; right now nothing larger than a sheep can get onto our property without my knowing it, and when I'm done, nothing larger than a rabbit will."

Tilden relaxed, and his wife parted his hand. "I told you," she said in a whisper that was audible to Tarma, at least. Tarma repressed a smile.

"I have to admit that I've learned a lesson or two from this myself," Tarma said slowly, and traded glances with Kethry and Jadrek. "And maybe not the ones you're thinking."

"Oh?" Diona said, her tone inviting further elaboration.

"It was a given that Keth and I would go after the kidnappers -- there was never any question of that," Tarma told them. "But the only reason we brought Jadrie along was because she'd sworn a sisterhood-oath with your two -- it's a Shin'a'in thing, a serious oath, and it meant that if she didn't help, she'd be forsworn. Keth and I were both fit to be tied."

"I can imagine," Diona said with sympathy. "There was never any question of you forcing her to that, of course." She made it a statement, and Tarma felt her own bit of relief that the lady understood what was involved; she'd known Tilden would, but not necessarily his wife.

"Not a chance. Mind you, we were initially afraid that all she thought was that it would be a big adventure and hadn't any notion how serious a situation it was -- and I think there was some of that there, at least until we got to the place where the ambush was sprung. But she didn't have to tell us about the oath; all she would have had to do was keep quiet about it and no one would have known. Certainly your girls had no idea how serious it was." Tarma paused, and rubbed her eyebrow with a knuckle. "But it's occurred to me that the first thing I've learned from her is that we're bringing the younglings up right. They take their responsibilities as seriously as we could want."

Kethry nodded emphatically. "I'll admit I was furious that she'd sworn that kind of an oath without asking permission -- I thought that she had no right to do so without asking me first -- and that if she'd asked, I would have told her she was too young to do so, too young to know what she was doing. And there might very well have been a grain of truth to that, but the point is that when she did know what she was in for, she didn't try to back out. And as for being too young -- well, Tarma and I weren't that much older when we swore oaths that were just as serious, mine to White Winds as a novice, and hers to her Clan." She sighed. "I think I've just had a mother's hardest lesson brought home -- no matter how young I think they are, they're older than I believe, and they aren't going to do anything except keep getting older. And sooner than I think they're ready, they're going to need to make their own lives."

Diona winced. "I learned that one when Meri announced that she was going to marry her Prince and that it was a lifebond and no one was going to stop her. Granted, that all might very well have been a children's fantasy -- but it wasn't. There are times when they deserve to be taken seriously."

"When they themselves are serious, yes, they do," Tarma agreed. "And that's what we all have to watch for, and not just dismiss it out of hand because we don't think they're old enough to understand a serious situation."

"And when they make a serious decision and want to stand by it, it is our duty to them to help them do so," Jadrek added softly, a gentle smile on his lips. "I must tell you that I am very proud of my firstborn. I don't care if no one ever writes a song about her, or tells a tale about her -- but I do care that she is already honorable and responsible, and I have no fear that she will ever be less so."

Tarma picked up her mug of mulled ale and raised it in a salute. "Here's to them and to us, then. And may we as parents remember this the next time somebody breaks a window and needs a tanning!"

"Here here!" Tilden seconded, as they all joined her in the toast and the laughter.