Oathblood

A TALE OF HEROES

"Miles out of our way, and still not a sign of anything out of the ordinary," Tarma grumbled, her harsh voice carrying easily above the clopping of their horses' hooves. "For certain no sign of any women in distress. Are you - "

"Absolutely certain," Kethry, the swordswoman's partner, replied firmly, eyes scanning the fields to either side of them. Her calf-length buff-colored robe, mark of the traveling sorceress, was covered in road dust, and she squinted in an attempt to keep that dust out of her eyes. The chilly air was full of the scent of dead leaves and dried grass. "It's not something I can ignore, you know. If my blade Need says there are women in trouble in this direction, there's no chance of doubt: they exist. Surely you know that by now."

It had been two days since they diverted from the main road onto this one, scarcely wider than a cart track. The autumn rains were sure to start before long; cold rains Tarma had hoped to avoid by getting them on the way to their next commission well ahead of time. Since they'd turned off the caravan road, they'd seen little sign of habitation, only rolling, grassy hills and a few scattered patches of forest, all of them brown and sere. The bright colors of fall were not to be found in this region. When frost came, the vegetation here muted into shades more like those of Tarma's worn leathers and Kethry's traveling robes than the carnival-bright colors of the farther north. In short, the trip thus far had been uneventful and deadly dull.

"I swear, sometimes that sword of yours causes more grief than she saves us from," Tanna snorted. "Magicians!"

Kethry smiled; she knew very well that the Shin'a'in swordswoman was only trying to get a rise out of her. The magic blade called "Need" that she carried had saved both their lives more than once. It had the peculiar property of giving weapons' expertise to a mage, or protecting a swordswoman from the worst magics; it could heal injuries and illness in a fraction of normal time-but it could only be used by a female. And, as with all magics, there was a price attached to Need's gifts. Her bearer must divert to aid any woman in need of help, no matter how far out of her intended way the sword pulled her. "You weren't saying that a few weeks ago, when Need and I Healed that lung-wound of yours."

" That was then, this is now,' " her hawk-visaged partner quoted. " The moment is never the same twice.'" A bit of fresher breeze carried the dust of the road away, but chilled both of them a little more.

Kethry shook amber hair out of her eyes, her round face full of amusement "O wise sister-mine, do you have a proverb for everything?"

Tarma chuckled. "Damn near -- Greeneyes, these fields are cultivated -- left to go fallow just this year. I think there's a farm up ahead. Want to chance seeing if the owner'll let us pass the night in his barn? Looks like rain, and I'd rather sleep dry without you having to exhaust magics to keep us that way."

Kethry scanned on ahead of them for possible danger, using magic to smell out magic. "It seems safe enough -- let's chance it. Maybe we can get some due about what Need's calling us to. I don't like the way the air's chilling down, sybarite that I am. I'd rather sleep warm, if we can."

Their ugly, mottled-gray battlemares smelled the presence of other horses, even as the sorceress finished her sentence. Other horses meant food and water at the least, and a dry and warm stable at best. With the year being well into autumn a warm stable was nothing to scorn. They picked up their pace so abruptly that the huge black "wolf" that trotted by the side of the swordswoman's mount was left behind in the dust. He barked a surprised protest and scrambled to catch up.

"That's what you get for daydreaming, lazybones," Tarma laughed, her ice-blue eyes slitted against the rising dust. "Don't just look stupid. Get up here, or we'll leave you!"

The lupine creature -- whose shoulder easily came as high as Tarma's waist -- gathered himself and sprang. He landed on the carrying pad of stuffed leather just behind her saddle; the mare grunted at the impact, but was unsurprised at it. She simply waited for the beast to settle himself and set his retractile claws into the leather pad, then moved into a ground-devouring lope. The sorceress' mount matched her stride for stride.

Strands of raven hair escaped from Tarma's braid and blew into her eyes, but didn't obscure her vision so much that she missed the sudden movement in the bushes at the side of the road, and the small, running figure that set off across the fields. "Looks like the scouts are out," she grinned at her partner. "We've been spotted."

"What? Oh--" Kethry caught sight of the child as he (she?) vaulted over a hedge and vanished. "Wonder what he made of us?"

"We're about to find out." From the other side of the hedge strode a heavy, muscular farmer, as brown as his fields; one who held his scythe with the air of someone who knew what an effective weapon it could be. Both women pulled their horses to a stop and waited for him to reach the road.

"Wayfarer's Peace, landsman," Tarma said when he was near enough to hear her. She held both hands out empty. He eyed her carefully.

"On oath to the Warrior, Shin'a'in?" he replied.

"Oath given." She raised one eyebrow in surprise. "You know Shin'a'in, landsman? We're a long way from the plains."

"I've traveled." He had relaxed visibly when Tarma had given her pledge. "Soldiered a bit. Aye, I know Shin'a'in -- and I know a Sworn One when I see one. Tisn't often you see Shin'a'in, and less often you see Swordsworn oathed to outlander."

"So you recognize blood-oathed, too? You're full of surprises, landsman." Tarma's level gaze held him; her blue eyes had turned cold. "So many I wonder if we are safe with you--"

He raised his left arm; burned onto the back of the wrist was a five-spoked wheel. Kethry relaxed with a sigh, and her partner glanced sidelong at her.

"And I know the Wheel-bound," the sorceress replied. " 'May your future deeds balance all."

" 'And your feet ever find the Way,' " he finished, smiling at last. "I am called Landric."

"I'm Tarma -- my companion is Kethry. Just out of curiosity -- how did you know we were she'ene-dran?" Tarma asked as he moved up to walk beside their mounts. "Even among Shin'a'in, oathsisters aren't that common."

He was a big man, and muscular. He wore simple brown homespun, but the garments were well made. His hair and eyes were a few shades darker than his sun-darkened skin. He swung the scythe up gracefully out of the way, and though he eyed Tarma's beast-companion warily, he made no moves as though he were afraid of it. Tarma gave him points for that.

"Had a pair of oathbound mercenaries in my company," he replied, "That was before I took the Wheel, of course. Brother and sister, and both Swordsworn as well, as I recall. When you held up your hands, I recognized the crescent palm-scar, and I couldn't imagine a Shin'a'in traveling with any but her oathsister. If you've a wish to guest with me, be welcome -- even though--" his face clouded, "--I fear my hearth's cold comfort now."

Kethry had a flash of intuition. "Grief, landsman -- your Wheelmate?"

"She waits the next turning. I buried what the monster left of her at Spring planting, these six months agone."

Their host walked beside their mounts, and told his tale with little embellishment.

"--And there was no time for me to get a weapon -- and little enough I could have done even had there been time. So when the monster headed for the babe, she ran between it and him; and the creature took her instead of the child, just as she'd intended." There was heavily veiled pain still lurking in his voice.

"Damn," Tarma said, shaking her head in awe at the dead woman's bravery. "Not sure I'd've had the guts to do that. What's this thing like anyway?"

"Like no creature I've ever heard tell of. Big; bigger than a dozen horses put together, covered with bristly brown hair -- a head that's all teeth and jaws, six legs. Got talons as long as my hand, too. We think it's gotten away from some mage somewhere; it looks like something a nasty mind would put together for the fun of it -- no offense meant, sorceress."

"None taken." Kethry met his brown eyes with candor. "Lady knows my kind has its share of evildoers. Go on."

"Well, the thing moves like lightning, too. Outruns even the lord's beasts with no problem. Its favorite prey is women and children; guess it doesn't much care for food that might be able to fight back a little."

Kethry caught her partner's eye. Told you, she signaled in hand-speech. Need knows.

"The Lord Havim hasn't been able to do anything about it for the time being, so until he can get a hero to kill it, he's taken the 'dragon solution' with it."

" 'Dragon solution'?" Tarma looked askance.

"He's feeding it, in hopes it'll be satisfied enough to leave everyone else alone," Kethry supplied. "Livestock -- I hope?" She looked down at the farmer where he walked alongside her horse. He kept up with the beast with no trouble; Kethry was impressed. It took a strong walker to keep up with Hellsbane.

He shook his head. "People. It won't touch animals. So far he's managed to use nothing but criminals, but the jails are emptying fast, and for some reason nobody seems much interested in breaking the law anymore. And being fed doesn't completely stop it from hunting, as I well know to my grief. He's posted the usual sort of reward; half his holdings and his daughter, you know the drill."

"Fat lot of good either would do us," Tarma muttered in Shin'a'in. Kethry smothered a smile.

They could see his farmstead in the near distance; from here it looked well-built and prosperous; of baked brick and several rooms in size. The roof was thatch, and in excellent repair. There were at least five small figures gathered by the door of the house.

"These are my younglings," he said with pride and a trace of worry. "Childer --" he called to the little group huddled just by the door, "--do duty to our guests."

The huddle broke apart; two girls ran into the house and out again as the eldest, a boy, came to take the reins of the horses. The next one in height, a huge-eyed girl (one of the two who had gone into the house), brought bread and salt; she was followed by another child, a girl who barely came to the wolf's shoulder, carrying a guesting-cup with the solemnity due a major religious artifact. The three children halted on seeing the wolf, faces betraying doubt and a little fear; plainly, they wanted to obey their rather. Equally plainly, they didn't want to get within a mile of the huge black beast.

Tarma signaled the wolf silently. He padded to her right side and sat, looking very calm and as harmless as it is possible for a wolf to look. "This is Warrl," she said. "He's my soul-kin and friend, just like in the tales -- a magic beast from the Pelagir Hills. He's wise, and very kind--" she raised one eyebrow with a comic expression "--and he's a lot smarter than I am!"

Warrl snorted, as if to agree, and the children giggled. Their fears evaporated, and they stepped forward to continue their tasks of greeting under their father's approving eye.

The guesting ritual complete, the eldest son -- who looked to be no older than ten, but was a faithful copy of his father in miniature -- led the horses to the stock-shed. It would probably not have been safe to have let him take ordinary battle-trained horses, but these were Shin'a'in bred and trained warsteeds. They had sense and intelligence enough to be trusted unguided in the midst of a melee, yet would no more have harmed a child, even by accident, than they would have done injury to one of their own foals. Just now they were quite well aware that they were about to be stabled and fed, and in their eagerness to get to the barn they nearly dragged the poor child off his feet.

"Hai!" Tarma said sharply; they stopped dead, and turned to look at her. "Go gently, warladies," she said in her own tongue. "Mind your manners."

Landric hid a smile as the now docile creatures let themselves be led away at the boy's pace. "I'd best help him, if you think they'll allow it," he told the Shin'a'in. "Else he'll be all night at it, trying to groom them on a ladder!"

"They'll allow anything short of violence, providing you leave our gear with them; but for your own sake, don't take the packs out of their sight. I'd hate to have to recompense you for broken bones and a new barn!"

"Told you I soldiered with Shin'a'in, didn't I? No fear I'd try that. Take your ease inside; 'tis poor enough, and I beg you forgive the state it's in, but--"

"Landric, no man can be two things at once. Better the house should suffer a little than your fields and stock. Clean plates won't feed your younglings," Kethry told him, following the oldest girl inside.

There was a musty smell inside, as of a house left too long unaired. Piles of clean clothing were on the benches on either side of the table, the table itself was piled high with dirty crockery. There was dust everywhere, and toys strewn the length and breadth of the room. The fire had been allowed to go out -- probably so that the two-year-old sitting on one corner of the hearth wouldn't fall into it in his father's absence. The fireplace hadn't been cleaned for some time. The kitchen smelled of burned porridge and onions.

"Warrior's Blade -- what a mess!" Tarma exclaimed under her breath as they stepped into the chaotic kitchen-cum-common room.

"It's several months' accumulation," her partner reminded her, "and several months of fairly inexpert attempts to keep up with the chores. Guests or no, I'm not going to let things stay in this state." She began pinning up the sleeves of her buff-colored traveling robe and headed toward the nearest pile of clutter.

"My thoughts entirely," the swordswoman replied, beginning to divest herself of her arms.

Landric and his son returned from stabling the mares to a welcome but completely unexpected scene. His guests had completely restored order to the house; there was a huge kettle of soup on the once-cold hearth, and the sorceress was making short work of what was left of the dirty dishes. Every pot and pan in the kitchen had already been washed and his oldest girl was carefully drying and stacking them. The next oldest was just in the last steps of sweeping the place out, using a broom that one of the two had cut down to a size she could manage. His four-year-old son was trotting solemnly back and forth, putting things away under the careful direction of -- the swordswoman?

Sure enough, it was the hawk-faced swordswoman who was directing the activities of all of the children. She was somehow managing to simultaneously change the baby's dirty napkin, tickling him so that he was too helpless with giggles to fight her as he usually did; directing the four-year-old in his task; and admonishing the six-year-old when she missed a spot in her sweeping. And looking very much as if she were enjoying the whole process to the hilt.

Landric stood in the door with his mouth hanging open in surprise.

"I hope you two washed after you finished with the horses," Kethry called from her tub of soapsuds. "if not, wait until I'm through here, and you can use the wash water before you throw it out." She rinsed the last of the dishes and stood pointedly beside the tub of water, waiting for Landric to use it or carry it out.

"This was -- not necessary," he managed to say as he hefted the tub to carry outside. "You are guests--"

"Oh, come now, did you really expect two women to leave things in the state they were?" Kethry giggled, holding the door open for him. "Besides, this isn't the sort of thing we normally have to do. It's rather a relief to be up to the elbows in hot water instead of trouble. And Tarma adores children; she can get them to do anything for her. You said you know Swordsworn; you know that they're celibate, then. She doesn't often get a chance to fuss over babes. But what I'd like to know is why you haven't hired a woman or gotten some neighbor to help you?"

"There are no women to hire, thanks to the monster," he replied heavily. "Those that didn't provide meals for it ran off to the town, thinking they'd be safer there. I'm at the farthest edge of Lord Havim's lands, and my nearest neighbors aren't willing to cross the distance between us when the monster is known to have taken my wife within sight of the house. I can't say that I blame them. I take the eldest with me, now, and I have the rest of the children barricade themselves in the house until we come home. The Gods of the Wheel know I'd be overjoyed to find some steady woman willing to watch them and keep the place tidy for bed, board, and a bit of silver, but there isn't anyone to be hired at any price."

"Now it's my turn to beg your pardon," Kethry said apologetically.

"No offense meant, none taken," an almost-smile stretched his lips. "How could I take offense after this?"

That night Tarma regaled all the children with tales until they'd fallen asleep, while Kethry kept her hands busy with mending. Landric had kept glancing over at Tarma with bemusement; to see the harsh-visaged battle-scarred Shin'a'in warrior smothered in children and enjoying every moment of it was plainly a sight he had never expected to witness. And Warrl put the cap on his amazement by letting the baby tumble over him, pull his fur, tail, and ears, and finally fall asleep using the beast as a mattress.

When the children were all safely in bed, Kethry cleared her throat in a way intended to suggest she had something touchy she wanted to ask their host.

He took the hint, and the sleepiness left his eyes. "Aye, mage-lady?"

"Would you object to my working a bit of magic here? I know it's not precisely in the tenets of the Path to use the arcane -- but--"

"I'm a bit more pragmatic than some of my fellows -- nay lady, I've no objection to a bit of magicing. What did you have in mind?"

"Two things, really. I'd like to scry out this monster of yours and see what we're going to be up against-"

"Lady," he interrupted, "I -- would advise against going at that thing. Let the hired heroes deal with it."

"While it takes more women and children?" She shook her head. "I can't do that, Landric -- if it weren't against my conscience, I'm geas-bound. Anyway, the other thing I'd like to do is leave you a little help with the children -- something like a cross between Warrl and a sheepdog, if you've no objection. It won't be as bright, or as large and strong, but it will be able to keep an eye on the little ones, herd them out of mischief, and go for help if need be."

"How could I object? The gods know I need something like that. You shouldn't feel obligated, though--"

"Balance the Wheel your way, and I'll balance it in mine, all right?" The twinkle in Kethry's eyes took any sting there might have been out of her words.

He bowed his head a little. "Your will, then, mage-lady. If you've no need of me, I'm for bed."

"No need, Landric, and thank you."

When he'd left, Kethry went to the stack of clean dishes and selected a dark, nearly black pottery bowl.

"Water scrying?" Tarma asked, settling herself on one side of the table.

"Mh-hm," Kethry replied absently, filling it very carefully with clear, cold water, then bringing it to the table and dusting a fine powder of salt and herbs from a pouch at her belt over the surface. "For both of us -- you may see what I'd miss."

She held her hands just above the water's surface and chanted softly, her eyes closed in concentration. After a few moments, a mistlike glow encircled her hands. It brightened and took on a faint bluish cast -- then flowed down over her hands onto the water, hovering over it without quite touching it. When it had settled, Kethry took her hands away, and both of them peered into the bowl.

It was rather like looking at a reflection; they had to be careful about moving or breathing, for the picture was distorted or lost whenever the surface of the water was disturbed.

"Ugly rotter," was Tarma's first comment, as the beast came dear. "Where and when?"

"I'm past-scrying; all the encounters with the would-be heroes thus far."

"Hmm. Not having much luck, is he?"

That was an understatement, as the monster was making short work of a middle-aged man-at-arms.

"It looks like they feed it once a week," Kethry said, though how she was able to keep track of time passage in the bowl was beyond Tarma. "Oh, this is a mage -- let's see how he fares."

"Huh -- no better than a try with a sword."

Magics just bounced oft its hide; the mage ended up traveling the same road as the fighters.

"It's a good bet if s a magic creature," Kethry concluded. "Any mage worth his robe would armor his own toys against magic."

After watching all the trials -- and failures -- they both sat silently.

"Let's think on this a while -- we've got enough information for now."

"Agreed. Want to build Landric's little shepherd?"

"That I could do in my sleep. Let's see -- first I need a vehicle-"

Warrl got to his feet, and padded over to Tarma. :Let me hunt,: he said in her mind.

"Warrl just volunteered to find your 'vehicle.' "

"Bless you, Furface! I take it there's something within range?"

"He says 'maybe not as big as you were hoping, but smarter.'"

"I prefer brains over brawn for this task--"

Warrl whisked out the door, and was back before a half hour was up, herding an odd little beast before him that looked like a combination of fox and cat, with humanlike hands.

"Bright Lady -- that looks like a Pelagir Hills changeling!"

"Warrl says it came from the same place as the monster -- when that got loose, apparently a lot of other creatures did, too."

"All the better for my purposes--" Kethry coaxed the creature into her lap, and ran softly glowing hands over it while she frowned a little in concentration. "Wonderful!" she sighed in relief, "It's Bright-path intended; and nobody's purposed it yet. It's like a blank page waiting to be written on -- I can't believe my luck!" The glow on her hands changed to a warm gold, settled over the creature's head and throat, and sank into it as if absorbed. It sighed and abruptly fell asleep.

"There--" she said, rising and placing it beside the hearth. "When it wakes, all its nurturing instincts will be imprinted for Landric's children; as bright as it is, he'll be able to leave them even with a fire burning on the hearth without them being in danger."

She stood, and swayed with exhaustion.

"That's more than enough for one night!" Tarma exclaimed, steadying her and walking her over to the pallets Landric had supplied. "It's definitely time you got a little rest! Greeneyes, I swear if I wasn't around, you'd wear yourself into a wraith."

"Not a wraith-" Kethry yawned, but before she could finish her thought, she was asleep.

They left the next morning with the entreaties of the four youngest children still in their ears. Despite the distraction of the new "pet" they still wanted the two women to stay. None of the six had wanted Tarma, in particular, to leave.

"I'd've liked to stay," Tarma said, a bit wistfully, as she turned in her saddle to wave farewell.

"So would I -- at least for a bit," Kethry sighed. "Need's not giving me any choice though -- she's nagging me half to death. All last night I could feel her pulling on me; a few more days of that and I'll start chewing furniture. Besides, I had the distinct impression that Landric was eying me with the faint notion of propositioning me this morning."

"You should have taken him up on it, Greeneyes," Tarma chuckled. "You could do worse."

"Thank you, but no thank you. He's a nice enough man -- and I'd kill him inside of a week. He has very firm notions about what a wife's place is, and I don't fit any of them. And he wouldn't be any too pleased about your bringing up his offspring as Shin'a'in either! You just want me married off so you can start raising a new clan!"

"Can't blame me for trying," Tarma shrugged, wearing a wry grin. The loss of her old clan was far enough in the past now that it was possible for Kethry to tease her about wanting to start a new one. "You did promise the council that that was what you'd do."

"And I will -- but in my own good time, and with the man of my choice, one who'll be a friend and partner, not hope to rule me. That's all very well for some women, but not for me. Furthermore, any husband of mine would have to be pleased with the idea that my oathsister will be training our children as Shin'a'in. I didn't promise the Council, she'enedra," she rode close enough to catch Tarma's near hand and squeeze it. "I promised you."

Tarma's expression softened, as it had when she'd been with the children. "I know it, dearling," she replied, eyes misting a trifle, "And you know that I never would have asked you for that -- never. Ah, let's get moving; I'm getting maudlin."

Kethry released her hand with a smile, and they picked up their pace.

They entered the town, which huddled at the foot of the lord's keep like a collection of stellat shoots at the foot of the mother tree. The ever-present dust covered the entire town, hanging in a brown cloud over it. Warrl they left outside, not wanting to chance the stir he'd cause if they brought him in with them. He would sneak in after dark, and take up residence with their horses in the stable, or with them, if they got a room on the ground floor with a window. Taking directions from the gate-guard, they found an inn. It was plain, but clean enough to satisfy both of them, and didn't smell too strongly of bacon and stale beer.

"When's feeding time for the monster?" Tarma asked the innkeeper.

"Today -- if ye get yerselves t' the main gate, ye'll see the procession--"

The procession had the feeling of a macabre carnival. It was headed by the daughter of Lord Havirn, mounted on a white pony, her hands shackled by a thin gold chain. Her face bore a mingling of petulance at having to undergo the ceremony, and peevish pride at being the center of attention. Her white garments and hair all braided with flowers and pearls showed the careful attentions of at least two servants. Those maidservants walked beside her, strewing herbs; behind them came a procession of priests with censors. The air was full of incense smoke battling with the ubiquitous dust.

"What's all that about?" Kethry asked a sunburned farmwoman, nodding at the pony and its sullen rider.

"Show; nothing but show. M'lord likes to pretend it's his daughter up for sacrifice -- but there is the real monster fodder," she pointed toward a sturdy farm cart, that contained a heavily-bound, scurvy-looking man, whose eyes drooped in spite of his fate. "They've drugged 'im, poor sot, so's the monster knows it'll get an easy meal. They'll take milady up the hill, with a lot of weepin' and wailin', and they'll give each of the heroes a little gold key that unlocks her chain. But it's the thief they'll be tying to the stake, not her. Reckonn you that if some one of the heroes ever does slay the beast, that the tales will be sayin' he saved her from the stake shackles, 'stead of that poor bastard?"

"Probably."

"Pity they haven't tried to feed her to the beast -- it'd probably die of indigestion, she's that spoiled."

They watched the procession pass with a jaundiced eye, then retired to their inn.

"I think, all things considered," Tarma said after some thought, as they sat together at a small table in the comfort and quiet of their room at the inn. "That the best time to get at the thing is at the weekly feeding. But after it's eaten, not before."

"Lady knows I'd hate being part of that disgusting parade, but you're right. And while it's in the open -- well, magics may bounce off its hide, but there are still things I could do to the area around it. Open up a pit under it, maybe."

"We'd have to--" Tarma was interrupted by wild cheering. When peering out of their window brought no enlightenment, they descended to the street.

The streets were full of wildly rejoicing people, who caught up the two strangers, pressing food and drink on them. There was too much noise for them to ask questions, much less hear the answers.

An increase in the cheers signaled the arrival of the possible answer -- and by craning their necks, the two saw the clue to the puzzle ride by, carried on the shoulders of six merchants. It was one of the would -- be heroes they'd seen going out with the procession; he was blood-covered, battered, and bruised, but on the whole, in very good shape. Behind him came the cart that had held the thief -- now it held the head of something that must have been remarkably ugly and exceedingly large in life. The head just barely fit into the cart.

The crowd carried him to the same inn where the two women were staying, and deposited him inside. Tarma seized Kethry's elbow and gestured toward the stableyard; she nodded, and they wriggled their way through the mob to the deserted court.

"Well! Talk about a wasted trip!" Tarma wasn't sure whether to be relieved or annoyed.

"I hate to admit it--" Kethry was dearly chagrined.

"So Need's stopped nagging you?"

Kethry nodded.

"Figures. Look at it this way -- what good would Lord Havirn's daughter or his lands have done us?"

"We could have used the lands, I guess--" Tarma's snort cut Kethry's words off. "Ah, I suppose it's just as well. I'm not all that unhappy about not having to face that beast down. We've paid for the room, we might as well stay the night."

"The carnival they're building up ought to be worth the stay. Good thing Warrl can take care of himself -- I doubt he'll be able to sneak past that mob."

The "carnival" was well worth staying for. Lord Havirn broached his own cellar and kitchens, and if wine wasn't flowing in the fountains, it was because the general populace was too busy pouring it down their collective throats. Neither of the women were entirely sober when they made their way up to their beds.

A few scant minutes after reaching their room, however, Kethry was sober again.

The look of shock and surprise on her partner's face quickly sobered Tarma as well. "What's wrong?"

"It's Need -- she's pulling again."

"Oh, bloody hell!" Tarma groaned and pulled her leather tunic back over her head. "Good thing we hadn't put the candle out. How far?"

"Close. It's not anywhere near as strong as the original pull either. I think it's just one person this time--"

Kethry opened the door to their room, and stared in amazement at the disheveled girl huddled in the hall just outside.

The girl was shivering; had obviously been weeping. Her clothing was torn and seemed to have been thrown on. Both of them recognized her as the inn's chambermaid. She looked up at them with entreaty and burst into a torrent of tears.

"Oh, bloody hell!" Tarma repeated.

When they finally got the girl calmed down enough to speak, what she told them had them both incensed. The great "hero" was not to be denied anything, by Lord Havirn's orders -- except, of course, the lord's daughter. That must wait until they were properly wedded. That he need not languish out of want, however, the innkeeper had been ordered to supply him with a woman, should he want one.

Naturally, he wanted one. Unfortunately, the lady who usually catered to that sort of need was "inconvenienced" with her moon-days. So rather than pay the fee of an outside professional, the innkeeper had sent up the chambermaid, Fallan -- without bothering to tell her why she was being sent.

"--'m a good girl, m'lady. I didna understand 'im at first; thought 'e wanted another bath or somesuch. But 'e grabbed me 'fore I knew what 'e was about. An' 'e tore me clothes, them as took me a month's wages. An 'e-'e-" another spate of tears ensued. " 'E was mortal cruel, m'lady. 'E-when I didna please 'im, 'e beat me. An' when 'e was done, 'e threw me clothes at me, an' 'e yelled for me master, an' tol' 'im I was no bloody good, an' what did 'e think 'e was about, anyway givin' 'im goods that was neither ripe nor green? Then me master, 'e-'e- turned me off! Tol' me t' make meself vanish, or 'e'd beat me 'imself!"

"He did what?" Tarma was having trouble following the girl, what with her thick accent and Tarma's own rising anger.

"He discharged her. The bastard sent her up to be raped, then has the bloody almighty gall to throw her out afterward!" Kethry was holding onto her own temper by the thinnest of threads.

" Ve got nowhere to go, no references -- what 'm I going to do?" the girl moaned, hugging her knees to her chest, still plainly dazed.

"She'enedra, get the brandy. I'll put her in my bed, you and I can sleep double," Kethry said in an undertone. "Child, worry about it in the morning. Here -- drink this."

"I can't go back 'ome -- they 'aven't got the means to feed the childer still too little to look for work," she continued in a monotone. "I bain't virgin for two years now, but I been as good as I could be. I bain't no lightskirt. All I ever wanted was t' put by enough for a dower -- maybe find some carter, some manservant willin' t' overlook things; have a few childer of me own." She was obviously not used to hard liquor; the brandy took hold of her very quickly. She mumbled on for a bit longer, then collapsed in Kethry's bed and fell asleep.

"I'd like to skewer this damned innkeeper," Tarma growled.

Kethry, who'd been checking the girl for hurts, looked up with a glower matching Tarma's. "That makes two of us. Just because the girl's no virgin is no excuse for what he did -- and then to turn her out afterward--" Tarma could see her hands were trembling with controlled rage. "Come look at this."

"Ungentle" was a distinct understatement for the way the girl had been mauled about. She was bruised from knee to neck, ugly, purple things. Kethry took Need from beneath the bed and placed it beside her, then covered her with the blankets again.

"Well, that will take care of the physical problems -- but what about the bruising of her spirit?"

"I don't have any answers for you," Kethry sighed, rage slowly cooling. "But, you know, from the way she talked, it isn't the rape that bothers her so much as the fact that she's been turned out. What we really need to do is find her somewhere to go."

"Bloody hell. And us knowing not a soul here. Well -- let's worry about it in the morning."

In the morning, it seemed that their erstwhile charge was determined to take care of the problem by attaching herself to them.

They woke to find her busily cleaning both their swords -- though what she'd made of finding Need beside her when she woke was anyone's guess. Tarma's armor lay neatly stacked, having already been put in good order, and their clothes had been brushed and laid ready. The girl had both pairs of boots beside her, evidently prepared to clean them when she finished with the swords.

"What's all this about?" Tarma demanded, only half awake.

The girl jumped -- her lip quivered as she replied, looking ready to burst into tears again. "Please, m'lady -- I want to go with ye when y' leave. Ye haven't a servant, I know. See? I c'n take good care of ye both. An' I can cook, too -- an' wash an' mend. I don' eat much, an' I don' need much. Please?"

"I was afraid this would happen," Kethry murmured. "Look, Fallan, we really can't take you with us -- we don't need a servant --" She stopped as the girl burst into tears again, and sighed with resignation. "-- oh, Bright Lady. "All right, we'll take you with us. But it won't be forever, just until we can find you a new place."

" 'Just until we can find you a new place.' She'ene-dra, I am beginning to think that this time that sword of yours has driven us too far. Three days on the road, and it's already beginning to seem like three years."

Fallan had not adjusted well to the transition from chambermaid to wanderer. It wasn't that she hadn't tried -- but to her, citybred as she was, the wilderness was a place beset by unknown perils at every turn. Every snake, every insect was poisonous; she stayed up, kept awake by terror, for half of every night, listening to the sounds beyond their fire. Warrl and the mares terrified her.

They'd had to rescue her twice -- once from the river she'd fallen into, once from the bramble thicket she'd run into, thinking she heard a bear behind her. For Fallan, every strange crackle of brush meant a bear; one with Fallan-cutlets on his mind.

At the same time, she was stubbornly refusing to give up. Not once did she ask the two women to release her from her self-imposed servitude. No matter how frightened she became, she never confessed her fear, nor did she rush to one or the other of them for protection. It was as if she was determined to somehow prove -- to herself, to them, perhaps to both -- that she was capable of facing whatever they could.

"What that girl needs is a husband," Kethry replied wearily. "Give her things to do inside four walls, things she knows, and she's fine, but take her out here, and she's hopeless. If it weren't for the fact that the nearest town is days away, I'd even consider trying to get her another job at an inn."

"And leave her open to the same thing that happened before? Face it, that's exactly what would happen. Poor Fallan is just not the type to sell her favors by choice, and not ugly enough to be left alone. Bless her heart, she's too obedient and honest for her own good -- and, unfortunately, not very bright. No solution, Greeneyes. Too bad most fanners around here don't need or can't afford woman servants, or --" she stopped with an idea suddenly occurring to her. Kethry had the same idea.

"Landric?"

"The very same. He seems kind enough --"

"No fear of that. He's Wheel-bound. When he took that tattoo, he took with it a vow to balance the evil he'd done previously with good. That's why he became a farmer, I suspect, to balance the death he'd sown as a soldier with life. Did his children look ill-treated?"

"Contrarywise. Healthiest, happiest bunch I've seen outside of a Clan gathering. The only trouble-"

"-is, does she know how to deal with younglings? Let's head for Landric's place. You can talk to her on the way, and we'll see how she handles them when we get there."

Two days of backtracking saw them on the road within a few furlongs of Landric's farm. Landric's eldest spotted them as he had before and ran to tell his father. Landric met them on the road just where it turned up the path to his farmstead, his face wreathed in smiles.

"I had not thought to see you again, when the news came that the monster had been slain," he told Tarma warmly.

"Then you also know that we arrived just a bit too late to do the slaying ourselves."

"If I were to tell the truth, I'm just as grateful for your sake. The hero had a cadre of six hirelings, and all six of them died giving him the chance he needed. I would have been saddened had their fate been yours. Oh -- that little pet you left for the children has been beyond price."

"If we'd gone down that thing's gullet, you wouldn't have been half as saddened as I!" Tarma chuckled. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Kethry, Fallan, and the children entering the house. "Listen, you're in the position to do us a favor, Landric. I hate to impose upon you, but -- well, we've got another 'pet' to find a home for." Quickly and concisely she laid out Fallan's pathetic story. "-- so we were hoping you'd know someone willing to take her in. She's a good worker, I can tell you that; it's just that she's just not suited for the trail. And to tell you the truth, she's not very flexible. I think we shock her."

He smiled slowly. "I am not quite that stupid, Sworn One. You hope that I will take her in, don't you?"

"Oh, well, I'll admit the thought did cross my mind," Tarma smiled crookedly.

"It is a possibility. It would neatly balance some wrongs I committed in my soldiering days ..." His eyes grew thoughtful. "I'll tell you -- let's see how she does with the younglings. Then I'll make my decision."

By the look in Landric's eyes when they crossed the threshold, Tarma knew he'd made up his mind. It wasn't just that Fallan had duplicated their feats of setting the place to rights, (although it wasn't near the task they'd had) nor was it the savory stew odor coming from the kettle on the hearth, nor the sight of five of the six children lined up with full bowls on their knees, neatly stowing their dinner away. No, what made up Landric's mind was the sight of Fallan, the youngest on her lap, cuddling him and drying his tears over the skinned knee he'd just acquired, and she looking as blissful as if she'd reached heaven.

They stayed a week, and only left because they'd agreed to act as caravan guards before all this began and would be late if they stayed longer.

Fallan had been in her element from the moment they'd entered the door. And with every passing day, it looked as though Landric was thinking of her less as a hireling and more in the light of something else.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Tarma asked her partner as soon as they were out of earshot.

"That he'll be wedding her before too long? Probably. There's mutual respect and liking there, and Fallan loves the children. She even likes the little beastie! It's not a life that would appeal to me or you -- but it looks like exactly what she wants. There've been worse things to base a marriage on."

"Like the lord's daughter and her 'hero'?" Tanna grimaced. "I don't know whether to feel sorrier for him or her or both. From the little I saw and heard, she's no prize, and m'lord is likely to have made an arrangement that keeps the pursestrings in his hands and out of her husband's."

"Which is hardly what he'd counted on when he went to slay the monster. On the other hand, we have reason to know the man is an insensitive brute. They deserve each other," Kethry replied thoughtfully.

"As Landric and Fallan do. There's your real heroes -- the people who keep coping, keep trying, no matter how many blows Fate takes at them. Nobody'll make a song about them, but they're heroes all the same," Tarma said soberly, then grinned. "Now, if we're going to get our deserts, we'll have to earn 'em. Let's ride, she'enedra -- before that damned sword of yours finds something else it wants us to do!"