The Lesser Kindred

IV The Mercenary's Tale

Don't know why you're asking me, I was only there the once.

Well, twice.

Yes, that's why we'd come so far from Sorun. Devlin, the master of our troop, told us we'd been hired to seek out a woman, up north Ilsa way. Why the man would need a whole gang of mercenaries to find and take a woman had us all thinking maybe she was a witch, but Devlin said she wasn't. And she was not to be harmed, just found and brought away.

It was my first job with them. I'd just come into Sorun from—well, never you mind—and I thought I'd try this mercenary lark. I'd been a soldier for a little while, and since I'd managed to live through that I decided it was an easy way to make a living. I was a titch then as now, you know, small built, and I'd found that if you make a living with your sword men are less inclined to make fun of you.

Aye, aye, I know. I was nineteen at the time. I'll wager you were wise as Shia at nineteen. Everybody is.

'T any rate, we'd been travelling for nearly two moons when we first started to realise we were in the right part of the world. Our instructions hadn't been the best but Devlin was used to that, and the buyer wasn't stingy with our pay so time wasn't a problem. Or it wouldna been if it had been summer instead of bloody winter. There were eight of us and we had to camp a lot more often than we'd have liked. The cold got into my bones, lying on the hard ground, but I never let on. Too busy telling myself and all the others that I was fine, I could take the cold, I was man enough. Never mind that the others were all old in the trade, to a man scarred inside and out, minds of stone and skin of leather. Never occurred to me that their faces would be mine, did it? Old is something that happens to other people when you're nineteen.

Well, we finally found the right village, or Devlin did. He and Ross, his second, left us all in a quiet little tag end of a wood while they went along to the nearest inn for a bite and a sup. Came back that night half-cut with the drink and laughing, they'd found word of her right enough. She was some local farmer's daughter, her da had died summer last and she'd gone away soon after, come back just before Midwinter Fest with some man she'd married on the longest night. That got some laughs, me the loudest. I said she must be ugly to need all that dark and the others laughed some more.

The stead was a scant hour's easy ride west from where we stood. Devlin told us we'd ride at first light, to somewhere close but sheltered, and he'd go in on his own to spy out the place, learn how we could capture the lady quick and quiet. I wondered why he was worried, for I liked the fighting and I was good at it, but he seemed to want as little fight as he could manage. I remember thinking he must be a bit of a coward.

The next day was cold, bone-chill cold, and as grey and cheerless a winter's day as you'd grumble to find. I remember thinking the horses were sluggish first thing, but then so was I. It got better as we rode, but we came up on the stead faster than we'd thought, and without warning. Worse, there was no convenient clump of trees nor houses or anything. We just had to stop at the edge of the marked fields, tramp out a place in the frosty scrub ground to set up a fire, and tend the horses until Devlin got back. I was well content to think of getting as warm as I could and was about to take the saddle off my horse when suddenly Devlin calls me out and says I'm to go with him. Ross wasn't best pleased, but Devlin laughed and said nobody'd believe he had a son so old as Ross. We left our horses with the others. The stead buildings were just a few fields away.

I was happy as a pup in a mud puddle to be in the thick of it at last. Devlin explained as we walked. I was to be Devlin's son, weak with cold, "So lean over and look weary, idiot, not like you're aching for a fight," and we both were to be strangers from the south looking for my "aunt" who had moved away north and might live thereabouts. They wouldn't know her, as she didn't exist, but we'd learn soon enough who lived in the place and what protection they had.

I was mighty impressed by Devlin, coming up with that so quick. It seemed so clever.

Well, we came up to the stead to find hardly anybody about. Dev was well pleased about that and he started walking around the buildings, having a good look at the double doors on two corners of the main square. It was a hell of a big place and the doors were good and strong, made from thick wood and hung from the stone walls on forged hinges made so you couldn't take out the pins. The main stables—for we heard the horses—ran along three sides of the square, as best we could tell, with what looked like a granary at one corner and what Dev guessed was a tack store in the other. The fourth side was the house, only a little ways from the stables. We could see from the roofline that the stone wall was double thick between the stables and the house. There were other barns dotted around the place, but this had to be where the really valuable horses were kept.

Devlin was talking to me, quiet-like. "Somebody here knows a little something. This place is made to defend. They don't have to step outside these walls unless they damn sure want to."

We'd been getting the lay of the place for near half an hour when we got back round to the doors we'd first come to, which were open. Devlin raised up his voice and called out "Hallo the house!", loud, and just a minute later out comes a man. He was no more than middlin' high, grey at the temples but strong-built and walked like a man much younger. He came up close to us right quick, like he didn't want us to come no closer to the house.

"I see you, lads. What is it brings you here on such a cold day?" says he, looking at me and Devlin in turn.

"We'd be mighty glad of a place by your fire for a minute or two," says Devlin, tryin' to sound old and weak. "My boy here is weary and my bones are chilled through. We slept on the cold ground last night, and truth told I'm gettin' too old for that sort of lark."

The man just stood there, never offered us water or chelan or even room by the fire, so Devlin started tellin' him the story he'd thought up, about how I was his sister's new-orphaned boy and she'd just died and we was looking for my ma's sister. I tried to feel and act wretched, but I couldn't help watchin' the old man's face. He stared at us for a minute, like he was lookin' through us, then he started in to laugh. "You damn fools, is that the best you can do?" He laughed harder, and I could see Dev workin' to keep quiet. The old man just kept on laughin'.

"Stranger, my captain gave us that same story to use thirty years ago. Either it's come back into use or it's never gone away, but in any case I know it too well to believe it for a single breath."

Devlin never said a word, just looked at him.

The man straightened up and stopped laughing. "I don't know your names, lads, and I don't want to. Only thing I need to know is—

Then he started talking nonsense, least it sounded like that to me. None of the words made sense. I near fell over when Devlin answered him in the same language.

I hadn't used mere—mercenary cant—for many years, but these things never really leave you.

"Right, you. Are you what you seem or just an upstart wanting to make a dirty living? Can you understand me?"

"Of course I can, granddad," the leader answered. His accent was strange, and he was surprised to say the least. "Never thought to find a brother here."

"I'm not your grandsire nor no more your brother than that youngster is your son, and don't you think otherwise. I left your life a long time since and I've no mind to rejoin it. What are you doing here, and what do you want?"

"A mark."

I instantly slipped into the darker tongue of the assassins. "You don't have the look of this about you, but if you know what I am saying you are bound by blood to answer. Are you here for death or for taking?"

"What in the hells did you just say? That wasn't cant," the man responded in mere, angry. Well, that was a blessing in any case. He didn't look bright enough to lie that well.

"Very well," I said, speaking in common again for the younger lad's benefit. 'This is fair warning. I know who you are. I don't know why you're here but I can guess. Know that I have lived your life, and a darker one yet than that, and you do not frighten me. Go now, tell your buyer you couldn't find what he sought. Come back here, by sun or moon, and I will not waste time in speech. If I see either of you again I will assume that you mean death or harm to me and mine and I will kill you the first chance I get. Be warned. Next time I will not stop to speak."

The older one nodded ever so slighdy and I knew he believed me. "I give you leave to go, right now," I said. "Once you are out of my sight don't come back."

I couldn't believe Devlin was just taking this. Here was this skinny old man, no sword on him, not even a knife, and he was threatening Devlin and me both. I'd seen Devlin kill a man, right in front of my eyes, for a lot less, and here he was backing down.

"You don't scare me, old man," I cried, standing up to him. Small as I was, he was only a little taller. "Talk never won a fight! You're old and slow, you'd best watch your back or some dark ni—"

I had to stop speaking. I didn't want to, I had a few good insults I'd thought up, but when a man has a knife to your throat and your arms pinned to your sides, there's not a lot to say. Damn, I'd have sworn he was unarmed.

"He's not worth it," says Devlin, calm as can be. "Hells, he's green and stupid, but don't take it out on him."

"I'm not in the habit of slaughtering idiots," says the old man. He put away his knife and turned me around to look at him, still holding my arms pinned. He was lot stronger than he looked.

He looks deep into my eyes and shakes his head, real slow. "You're brave enough, lad, but you're cocky and you're slow. Get out of this business now, while you can. There are other ways to get through life and almost all of them will see you living a lot longer than this one. You're not made for it."

He threw me towards Devlin, who caught me before I fell on the cold ground. "Warning taken, master," said Devlin. "But I'm nor green nor foolish. And I've been paid."

"Hells help you then," says the man. "You've been told." He turned on his heel at that and went back through the big double doors and closed them behind him.

Devlin pulled me away with him, swearing. When we were out of earshot, I had to ask. Just casual, as we were walking back to the others.

"What was that you two were saying?"

"It's mere's cant," says Devlin. "Shows we're both mercenaries with some years of fighting and a measure of blood behind us. I'm not sure what that other noise he was making was, but I've a feeling it was rather worse than better."

We walked in silence a few moments more. "You're not afraid of him, are you?" I said.

Devlin just kept walking. "Yes, I damn well am. He's faster than I am, and I'd wager he knows everything I know and more as well. Even without the cant I was worried. He's sharp. Like a knife he's sharp."

"So what are we going to do?"

Devlin sighed. "We are not going to do anything. I'm going back to the others, and you're going to get on your horse and go home."

"What!" I cried. "You can't believe that old man, he was just lucky, I wouldn't—"

And for me second time in half an hour I was held helpless. Devlin wasn't as strong or as quick, but he managed all the same. "If I can do you, lad, that other one would have your heart on a stick before you knew you were dead. I've thought it before. He's right, you're just too slow. Go home. Find a girl, work on a farm, join the King's Men somewhere, find any sort of life you want but get out of this one. You're not right for it."

And what really scared me was that Devlin wasn't angry. He talked like he was talking about the weather. "I'll do what I please, it's my life!" I cried, struggling.

He let me go and kept walking. "So it is. Please yourself, Callum. But when you're dying in some ditch before me year's out—or maybe the week—remember I warned you. So now your dying curse can't touch me." He brushed his hands one against the other. "I'll not say word more, I've done what I could. The rest be on your own back."

I shook myself and walked alongside him. I was mad: at myself, at Devlin, at that scary old man. I wasn't about to give up. But even then I wasn't completely stupid, and in the hidden part of me that admitted to fear I started to wonder if maybe there was something in what they said.

When we joined the others we drew back to that little bit of woodland we'd left the night before—it gave at least some shelter and there was enough wood to burn without spending every second looking for more. Our cook started up a good fire and put some potatoes by to bake in the foot of it, then made up a broth from the last of the meat we'd bought at the market some days since and a handful or so of barley. It wasn't much, but it was food and it was hot and that's all that mattered.

Ross and Devlin called us all together in the twilight of that early winter's night. We all sat as near the fire as we could. I was shivering something awful despite the food and regretting the mild southern winter we'd left behind when Devlin started talking.

"Right, lads. We're up against worse than we thought. I never saw the woman, but I'd swear my life she's there. Problem is, she's got a lot of help. The man we met, whoever he is, has been a mere, and he's told us straight he'll kill us if he sees us again. You all need to know that." He described the man so we'd all know him on sight.

"If you think I've come this far and been this cold just to walk away now, you're daft," says Ross.

Devlin smiled. "Aye, so I thought, but you had to know. And make no mistake, he surely will kill us quick enough if he sees us. So we can't let him see us. We move tonight. And he's been a mere, knew our story off pat, so he'll also know all the standard distractions and ignore them. So no cries for help in the middle of the night, no stray saddled horse come rattling into their courtyard, no howling wolves too close to the house. I need some fresh ideas and I need 'em fast."

"Our luck, the bloody wolves'll howl fine on their own," said Jaker sourly.

Ross spoke up. "That courtyard's mostly stables, isn't it? The lad in the village said they breed horses."

"Aye," says Devlin. "And so?"

"Horses hate fire, don't they?"

"You don't say," put in Jaker. He was in charge of the horses—guess that's why he said that about wolves. "They hate it, and it makes 'em stupid. I've seen 'em run back into a burning barn just to get killed—and a hell of a noise they make."

Then Ross says, "So why don't we set fire to the barn?"

Even in that company there was a hiss of quick-drawn breath. Fire happens when it happens and every man alive works to put it out. We were meres, not outlaws. My da had once told me about a fire he'd seen, a house caught somehow and they couldn't get the people out. He'd said he'd heard the screams for what seemed like hours. I still sometimes had nightmares about that.

Dev just waited, but nobody else said a thing.

"Not as easy as it sounds," he says after a few minutes, thoughtful. "They build with stone around here. Those barns are stone to the rooftree and slate tiled above. Not much to burn there." He stared into the fire for a moment, then he smiled real slow and looked around at us. "But the stalls have windows on the outer wall, and they're closed with wooden shutters," he says, right pleased with himself.

"But fire..." says Hask. I was surprised. I'd always thought him a hard man.

"It's not as bad as that," says Devlin. "We won't burn the people, we'll just scare the horses. Jaker, we'll all ride halfway there and walk the rest—you keep the horses where we stop, safe for our retreat. The rest of you—if Old Man Merc comes out to fight, you kill him before he can do you. Anybody else, just take them out the fight fast as you can, no need for killing unless you've got to. The girl's tall as a man, she should be easy to spot. Soon as one of you has her, let out a long whistle and all scatter. We'll meet back at the village—not here, it's too close."

"I don't like it, Dev," says Hask. He stood up. "Fire ain't right. I near got kilt in a fire when I were young. Fire ain't right."

Dev just looked up at him, for Hask was a big man. "You got a better idea?"

Hask shook his head.

"Then it's set," says Dev. "Jaker, you reckon Hask could take care of the horses for the time?"

"Sure," says Jaker. He and Hask had been working for Dev a long time, and they were as close to being friends as men got in such places. He took Hask aside and started talking horses at him.

I got out my knives and started in to sharpen all three of 'em. I planned to take Old Man Merc myself, pay him out for making me look a fool in front of Dev. My speciality was throwing knives and I was damn good at it.

Well, I thought I was damn good at it.

Jamie told us about the mercenaries at the noon meal. Varien was appalled by the idea of men that were paid to fight but he wasn't stupid, and even he could tell that the expression on Jamie's face wasn't one that invited questions.

"I'd guess that someone from your trip isn't happy about the way it worked out, my girl. Maybe Marik got better," he said. "I certainly haven't done anything to rattle anyone lately. Can you think of anyone else who'd come this far and pay meres to look for you?"

"Only Marik, or the demon master he works with," I said. "He's the only one I know of with a reason, but I'd be amazed if Marik could even speak yet, let alone plan such a thing."

Jamie drought for a moment. "Must be the demon master, then. Why in all the Hells has he sent men instead of demons?"

Varien spoke, but his calm voice was belied by the anger in his eyes. "Demons demand quite a price for their services. Perhaps he is not wealthy, or has run out of blood he is willing to part with."

"Where is Marik, anyway?" asked Jamie, looking relieved that we weren't going to have to fight demons just yet. "Someone must be looking after him, surely. Who would it be? You said he was the head of a Merchant House."

"His men carried him from the ship," said Varien quietly. "I know not where they took him."

Jamie sighed. "Truth to tell, I've almost been waiting for this. Stories are all well and good, my Lanen, and they sound fine coming from a bard, but real people who are after you don't just let you get away. You've come away the winners of this last bout, but it sounds like there is too much at stake for it to stop just because you give up. There are always loose ends from any weave. You seem to have left a right trail of them behind you."

I laughed, imagining a ravelling bit of rough-woven cloth trailing behind my horse, but I was the only one. Varien looked thoughtful.

"What are they most likely to do, Mas—Jamie?" he asked. "Would they attack such a stronghold as this?"

"Depends on their numbers," Jamie said. "If there's a score of them they might try it, but if they're less than ten they'll think of some distraction to make their way easier. We need to know what they're after first."

"Could it be the gold?" I asked quietly. "I don't think anyone saw it, but we brought back—quite a lot from the Dragon Isle."

"What!" cried Jamie. "Lanen, you never said word!"

I grinned. "You never asked. I was going to leave it as a surprise. The dragons—well, they—they have plenty, and we decided it might come in useful here."

"How much do you have with you? I've seen the circlet you wear," he said to Varien. "That's bad enough. Most men don't ever see that much gold in their lives. Many don't see gold at all. Did you bring—is there much more?"

I went to fetch my pack and brought it to Jamie. "Inside," I said.

Jamie felt around inside the nearly-empty pack. When he found it his eyes grew wide. He lifted out a lump of gold, that the dragons call khaadish, about the size of his fist. He stared at it, his jaw slack in wonder.

"Lanen tells me that khaadish is rare among your people, Master," said Varien calmly, "yet I have no sense of its worth. I saw no scrap of it on our journey here. What could you do with that much—"

"Gold. It's called gold, Varien." Jamie blinked. "Hellsfire. What could you do with it? Varien, a silver piece is worth twelve coppers. You can pay a man two coppers for a day's work and know he has the full value of it, for coppers are cut into halves and quarters—they're called haves and farthings, and most men deal in coppers for daily business. We sell horses, the best in Kolmar, and we occasionally see a gold piece for our best stud stallions. There are a hundred silver pieces to a single gold coin. A man's work for two years, that's what gold is worth. And that's a single thin coin. There must be—gods, there must be the best part of two hundred gold coins here. Enough to buy this whole farm and every stud and mare on it, and the work of the men for years to come."

Varien bowed his head briefly and closed his eyes. "I thank you," he said, sighing. Glancing up again he looked to me. "I think I begin to understand why so many of the harvesters over the long years dared to breach the Boundary and face our wrath. Your legends tell of—of dragons stealing and hoarding this metal, do they not?"

"Yes, they do." Jamie watched Varien carefully. "Is it true?"

"No. We do not seek it out. We do not regard it at all. The Gedri obsession with it passes our understanding."

"And yet here it is, a fortune—"

"Jameth, it is in our nature," said Varien, beginning to grow angry. "A man once betrayed his friendship with the Kantri for the sake of this yellow metal, a betrayal that cost the life of the one who had trusted him. The metal is of no worth save as ornament, and yet you tell me it is so highly valued among you—by the bright sky above, I do not understand!"

"If you do not seek it out, how then have you so much of it?" persisted Jamie.

"I have told you, it is in our nature," replied Varien, his anger plain now. "Where we sleep we turn the ground to this stuff. It is simply the way things are."

Jamie let out a low whistle. "By the Lady," he muttered.

He replaced the gold in my pack and handed it back to me, shaking his head. "Well, you learn something with each new day, true enough. But this doesn't answer the question. If you've kept that close hidden, it's not the gold they'd be after. Besides, it was the wrong story," he said. "They'd need to have come in to look over the place for that—they'd have cut the young lad and brought him here for healing, so we'd be too concerned about him and not notice his companion looking in every room. No, the story he used was only for finding a way in, or for finding a particular person." He looked up at me. "Hell's teeth, Lanen. Silver to horseshit it's you." He sprang up from his chair and started pacing the room. "Hells take it..." I let him get it out of his system. He swore pretty well when he worked up to it, he even used one or two I'd never heard from the sailors on the Harvest ship, when I went to the Dragon Isle.

"You said that bastard Marik wanted you for a sacrifice while you were on that island," Jamie said finally. "Well, I'd wager my year's earnings these men are here to finish what he started."

I shuddered. It made a lot of sense. Marik had been desperate to give me to that demon—it had been stopped only because Akor had rescued me. I looked to Varien and saw sadness in his eyes.

" Were the same to happen I could not save you now, dear-ling," he said in truespeech. "I am a man, more so each day, and only a Lord of the Kantri can battle one of the Lords of Hell and hope to prevail."

"I expect you're right. What are we to do now, Jamie? Do you think they would attack the house?"

"They will if they've been paid enough. We'll set a watch tonight, and you come sleep in the common room—it's the easiest to defend and it has a fireplace."

I felt terribly confused and vulnerable. "But Jamie, the stablehands, they're not fighters. What if..."

"I'll warn them, my girl, don't worry about that. You get working on the evening meal, that needs done and it'll keep you inside. I'll post a guard and set a watch." He seemed almost pleased; certainly his eyes were bright and sharp. "They'll not catch us sleeping, not if I can help it. Brew us up some chelan, there's a good lass. We'll need it." He turned to Varien. "And you bring that sword to the tack room just now, Varien, and we'll put an edge on it."

Lanen was right, though. The lads weren't fighters. I warned them, but though they nodded and agreed to do as I asked, they all were convinced I was making a lot of noise over nothing. They knew better than to disobey me, but for all that I walked up and startled them several times after darkness fell. And I wasn't even trying.

I kept walking around the buildings, checking the doors, trying to quiet the horses. They seemed bothered by something but I couldn't tell what.

I'd been inside the common room warming up, and I must have stayed longer than I realised. It felt like the middle of the night when I went out again. I could feel the frost crunch under my boots. The quarter-moon was bright, die sky was clear, and it was bloody cold.

All of a sudden the horses in the west stable started complaining, loud and urgent. I turned and was making for the door when suddenly, between one step and another, the noise from the horses changed from restless to flat-out panic. That cry for help is unmistakable and reaches through your gut to get your feet moving without bothering your brain. I was already running.

When I reached the main stable door I threw it open. The smell hit me instantly, stronger even than the noise of terrified horses.

Smoke.

Hellsfire and bloody damnation.

"FIRE!" I yelled, loud as I could. "FIRE, FIRE, FIRE!" Over and over. I had no idea what had happened to the lad who normally slept in this barn but there was no time to wonder. The smoke was coming from the farthest stall on the left. I pulled off my coat as I ran, lifted the latch on the stall, threw the door wide and tossed my coat over the head of Row, our best stallion and one of the founders of Hadron's stock. He was scared stiff and drew back, tossing his head in panic, fighting me. I spoke to him, calm as I could manage, knowing I couldn't spend much time even on him with so many others to get out. I managed to get my coat over his eyes, and thank the Lady, he changed his mind all of a sudden and came out with me.

I was almost surprised to find the courtyard full of folk, busily getting out every horse they could. I caught one of our young stable lads in passing. "Rab, quick, take Row out to the paddock and take any of the others that'll follow. And make sure someone's fetching water to douse the fire!"

I didn't stop to hear his reply. I was already running back into the barn, through the smoke, to the other stall nearest the fire.

When I heard Jamie yelling "fire" at the top of his lungs I was up and moving before I realised I was awake. I'd slept in my clothes, for we had expected something, and somehow I managed to slip on my boots. I snatched up a coat as I hurried outside. Varien moved more slowly behind me, but then he didn't understand about fires and horses.

When I emerged after even those short moments, the courtyard was full of our folk. Some were fetching water and dunking rags in it for the others to use to cover the horses' eyes and noses with. The horses were screaming with terror, and I could hardly breathe myself as I grabbed a damp rag and ran into the stable.

The smoke was up to the roof in great grey clouds, lit from below by the flames. The fire seemed to be running along the hayloft as fast as a man can walk.

One of the lads cried out to me as I passed. "She won't come, Lanen! Shadow won't come!"

"Then leave her and save another!" I yelled. I opened a stall at random and found myself facing Jamie's own gelding, Blaze. I didn't stop to think—I hadn't had a conscious thought yet—just threw the damp rag over his eyes, called him by name and spoke to him in as normal a voice as I could, and tried not to panic myself as I led him out. To my immense relief he came with me. As we emerged into the sweet cold air outside the barn I heard Jamie yelling that the horses we'd got out should be taken to the paddock, so I grabbed a passing maidservant who was being no use and told her where to take Blaze. She said nothing but seemed glad to have something to do.

By now there were a fair few horses being led out of the courtyard, but not enough. Not nearly enough. I remembered to grab the rag off Blaze's face and went in again.

The air was torn by the sudden screams of a horse. I tried to get to the sound, but the fire was too hot and burning fragments were starting to drop down from the burning hayloft above. It was sickening and the smell of burning horsehair and flesh made me gag, but I didn't have time to cry. I found myself in another stall fighting with Daft Sally, one of our brood mares, who didn't want to come, when I heard the most astounding thing. It took me a moment to realise that the voice was not coming from behind me.

It was Varien. His mindvoice was calm and he was speaking to the horses in broad truespeech. He was not using words, just feelings, of calm, of sense, of safety outside the barn, of trusting and following the people who were trying to help.

I couldn't be certain, but it seemed to help. Daft Sally calmed down enough to let me throw a halter over her neck and she followed me out, terrified but willing to go. I walked her as fast as I could to the door and gave the lead rope to young Tam. Every soul on the stead was working hard to get out as many as we could, but in the pit of my stomach I knew that the fire was well caught and if we could get any more of them out it would be by the grace of the Lady.

I was heading back to the stable door when on the edges of my mind it occurred to me even in the midst of that mad chaos that there seemed to be an awful lot of folk about, even with every soul we had—maybe some of the villagers had come—I was all but through the door when something fell over my own face, filled my mouth and blinded me, and I felt myself grabbed from behind with my arms pinioned to my sides. The man was big enough to drag me with one arm and keep the other tight around my throat. I tried to scream and got a mouthful of cloth, which set me coughing. I cried out in truespeech to Varien, as loud as I could, and tried desperately to stop coughing and breathe.

I had just managed to take one breath—I know this sounds slow, but it happened all in a moment—when in the midst of trying to kick backwards with my heeled boots, aiming vaguely for a shin, I was pulled off my feet. Only after being dragged backwards for a while did I remember what Jamie had taught me and tried to twist out of my captor's hold. He seemed to have been expecting it, though, and tightened his stranglehold around my neck. It was clearly either breathe or fight, and even at that my breathing was terribly limited.

"Varien, quickly, help me!" I cried, with all the strength of mind I had.

"Lanen, you must focus your thought. Where are you ? Are you in the barn?"

"No, no, some bastard has me by the throat so I can't scream. He's dragging me across the yard!"

"Dearling, be calm if you can. You are casting your speech too wide and I cannot find you," came Varien's voice, strong and calm and reassuring. Send your thoughts to me through the smallest opening you can imagine. I shall follow you." It wasn't easy to think straight—I was furious that I was so easily held helpless, my mind was filled with getting the rest of the horses out of that inferno, and just on the edges of thought came the worry about what whoever it was that had me would do when he got tired of dragging me across the cobbles. However, desperation concentrates the mind wonderfully. I tried to think of a pinhole, just big enough for my mindvoice to get through, as Varien had taught me. "I'm here love I'm here, the bastard's dragging me backwards, even in all this madness I should be easy enough to find— Goddess, that was another of the horses in the barn, I'm going to be sick—damn, we're off the cobbles and outside on the grass damn it I need to breathe—"

The noises were receding, or at least changing. I could still hear horses yelling, it twisted in my gut, but now it was an outdoor sound, not the echoing noise they'd made in the courtyard, and around and about me were the sounds of quite a few horses and people. "We're passing the paddock, damn this bastard I can't get a foothold to stop him he's moving me too fast, can't anyone see me he's too damn strong watch out there are more of them!"

We had stopped. The other voices were low and terrify-ingly calm as they tied my hands together. I struggled and tried to scream again, but I couldn't get enough breath to make any difference, and I was kept off balance quite successfully. The word "overpowered" occurred to me, and now I truly knew what it meant. It struck me then that I might just die there, alone and trussed up in the middle of my own field.

Fear always makes me furious. I twisted and fought harder, kicking when I could, but my captor tightened whatever he had around my throat and I had to give over. "Varien, quick, they're tying me up and I still can't breathe," I sent in truespeech. I was terrified and it was harder than ever to draw a simple breath. "Help, help, I'm here, I'm here, please, help me find me get me out of here they're tying my feet I can't stop them help help help."

I could do no more, I was exhausted and now my head was pounding from using truespeech. I felt I was only a few breaths away from fainting for lack of air, so I concentrated on just breathing.

I summoned my strength and went swiftly over the Kantri Discipline of Calm as I sought her. I knew I could be of no further use to the horses, for Jameth had stopped us all from entering the barn. The fire was raging now and it was plain that nothing else could be done. For a fleeting moment I longed for my old form. I could have simply lifted the horses out, for the fire would not have harmed me.

I noted as I sought the direction of Lanen's voice that Jameth had begun clearing the horses from the other two stables. Ah, there.

Old habits die so slowly. I had spent my entire life being certain of my power over the Gedri, knowing that they could pose no real threat to me. Had I thought about it for even the half of a moment I would have called for assistance, but I did not. I suspect I was not as calm as I believed, for I followed Lanen's thought and hurried after her, my sword in my hand. I was too far away when I finally realised that I had been foolish, but by then I could do nothing but finish what I had begun. I sent a prayer winging to the Winds as I came up to the dark knot of men who were busy tying Lanen hand and foot. We were too far from the walls of the stead for any to hear a cry for help, amidst all the mayhem.

I did not stop to announce my presence, I simply raised my sword and rushed at them. I must have made some sound—I think I may have growled in my anger—but in any case they heard me and easily avoided my ill-aimed blow.

"Kill him," said one quietly, pointing to me. A large man left the others and came to meet me. What little training I had had that morning deserted me as old instincts took over. I nearly dropped my sword to swipe at him with my claws, but I managed to remember at the last moment that I had none, and by pure chance managed to avoid his sword. I was off balance and tried to back away, but he kept coming towards me, menacing in the darkness.

"Akor!" came Lanen's mindvoice, weak now. Just that one word, but the fear in it rang like metal in my soul and fo-cussed my thoughts into cold, calm fury. I leapt back and found my feet, then began to advance, growling, towards the one who stood before me. He struck and his blade glanced off mine and hit my arm, but I ignored the flash of pain.

Time seemed to change around me, for I moved as fast as I could and suddenly the other was slow and clumsy. I was able to strike at his unprotected body before he struck again. He faltered and dropped his sword and I struck once more, putting my body into the blow.

He dropped to the ground and I turned around to face the others, only to find a second body on the ground before me and the others in flight. I turned and slipped on the wet grass, and sat suddenly upon something soft. Another body. This one had a drawn knife in one hand and had been just behind me—but I certainly hadn't killed it.

"Lanen! " I called, shaking my head as I stood and slowly returned to the normal passage of time.

"Here, love, and safe now. I'm here with the horses they left."

I strode over to her. "Dearling, how did you ... ?"

"She didn't. That was me. Good even, Master Varien."

Well, there's not much left to tell. When Ross has room to swing, it doesn't matter if they parry, he's just too strong and his blow works anyway. It didn't then. That skinny git with the silver hair should have gone down with half his arm lopped off, or broken at the very least, but he stopped Ross's blow with his bare forearm. He didn't even yell, he hissed, and then he moved up and struck out fast as a snake. I've never seen anything like it, you couldn't even see his sword move. Ross was hit, bad. Dev kept trying to tie up the woman, but she was fighting like fury and Dev had to keep tight hold of her. I tried throwing a knife or two, but I was scared witless and my aim went all over the place. This wasn't Old Man Merc, this was something worse: something that couldn't be hurt with steel and moved like the wind. He swung that damned huge sword round again and near cut Ross in two, killed him sure, but while Jaker had come up behind him and was about to knife him, I heard a quiet sound like a butcher cutting meat, and saw Jaker drop to the ground without a sound. Then Porlan, who had come up in front to take him out while he was busy with Ross, dropped as well.

Dev swore and yelled "Run!" He tried to bring the woman along, but she kicked and fought and got out of his grip and by then he just let her, grabbing my arm and hauling me away over the dark ground. I didn't resist. Who had sent those knives through the air from nowhere, in the dark, and killed Jaker and Porlan in the instant?

Well, none of us wanted to wait and find out. We ran like fury. They didn't follow us.

We got back to where Hask was waiting with the horses and stirred up the fire. Dev told Hask what had happened. I hadn't been sick, though it had been a close thing. I'd never forget the sound of that knife hitting Jaker. I wasn't shamed of running, for we'd all run, but the more I thought about it the more I thought that maybe both Dev and Old Man Merc had been right. And Ross and Jaker and Porlan hadn't even been threatened. They were just dead, just like that, with no warning.

I really didn't want my last thought to be where did that knife come from?, and to judge from what had happened that seemed like to be my future, and there didn't look to be much of that future to think about. And you know, just there and then, 'twixt one breath and the next, I decided I didn't give a damn what anybody thought, and there wasn't enough money in the world to lose my whole life over.

I went up to Dev when he had stopped talking. He looked grim. He and Ross'd been working together for years. They were nearly friends.

He'd just told the others that we would wait for them to come out, for he knew Old Man Merc would send a party at some point. I knew I'd sound like a coward, but like I said, all of a sudden I didn't give a fart for what anyone thought.

"Dev," I says, walkin' straight up to him, "you're right."

"About what, Cal?" he said. He sounded awful tired.

"About me bein' slow. I fired two knives at that feller and

neither one came close. And I was scared out my mind, and I ain't going back."

Dev just looked at me, then he did the damnedest thing— he smiled at me. He stood up and put bis hands on my shoulders and smiled. "Well, bless the Crooked One who looks on all thieves, there's somethin' good come out o' this. Cal-lum's off to find a girl, lads, and live a real life."

And as I looked around the fire they all looked as pleased as they were able that I was leaving. Not much good for my pride, that, but in the time since I've come to think maybe they felt like my living would mean something to their dying, and they feared that would come all too soon. Hask even said, "Kiss her for me, lad, whoever you find." I got up on my horse, and Dev give me a little money to get me to somewhere I could find work. I bade 'em all farewell that very moment, but never a soul among 'em said a single word to wish me on my way.

I've never killed a man, before that night or since, and I've never passed a butcher's stall in a market without hearing that knife cut Jaker's life from him. Old Man Merc was right. I wasn't never meant for that life.