 
Scholars and Other Undesirables

By Ben Stiebel

Copyright 2011 Published at Smashwords
Prologue

There was no road between Tom's cottage and the creek, just a track trampled down by the comings and goings of people to and from the cottage. Most of the trampling was done by Joff. He was neither the youngest nor the eldest. He was the most imaginative. Tom said that Joff had so much imagination that there was no room left in his head for anything else.

Putting Joff to any task guaranteed that it got done in an absent minded kind of way that left neighbors and relatives asking such awkward questions as, "How do you churn butter wrong?" and "Why did you plow the cow pasture?" He was not a lazy or mischievous boy. His mind and body simply failed to be in the same place most of the time. So he was given jobs like fetching water from the creek because it was hard to mess that up . . . much.

Today Joff had followed a strange, green bird away from the track and toward the road. It was smallish, about the size of a winged mouse, and flitted from tree branch to tree branch. Joff did not wish to catch the bird, just to get a closer look. Unfortunately the bird did not care for being looked at. If something looked at it too closely then that something might decide that it looked good to eat.

The bird led Joff to the road that went past the cottage. A leatherbound book lay in the road and made Joff forget all about the bird. Noble lairds and the augurs who talked to gods and spirits for them sometimes passed this way. One of them must have dropped the book. Joff picked it up and slapped the dust away. A picture of a dragon was bossed into the cover. One word was written above it. "Dragon," Joff read. He had never learned to read, but it was not too hard to guess what the word said when it had a picture to go with it. Joff opened the book. It had more pictures and words.

The book was his companion for the next few weeks. He made out words from the pictures and guessed at the words he did not know. Tom and Lily watched him with concern. Neither of them could read. Neither of them understood why anyone would want to. But it did keep Joff too busy to do any damage around the farm. When he was not reading, Joff worked more diligently. Something about the book focused him. After a week with the book he had stopped trying to milk the chickens. Tom and Lily were grateful for the change, as were the chickens.

That winter Joff started dropping things and even short walks took away his breath. At first the family thought he had taken some common germ, but when Joff could not longer get out of bed they knew it was time to summon a healer.

The healer they found was a tall, lean man named Torman who traveled in a wagon pulled by a pair of small horses. He mournfully agreed to do what he could for Joff for the few meager coins the family could provide. Joff's weakness and ghe fact that he had stopped growing identified the disease, a rare ailment known as the Wasting. The cause was not known. The disease weakened the patient's muscles until the heart, itself just another muscle, stopped beating. Torman treated Joff with a variety of medicinal herbs and with incantations meant to invoke the gods and other supernatural beings. After a week of treatment Torman sat down with Tom and Lily to discuss Joff's condition. They did this when all of the children had gone to bed and they had as much privacy as a one room peasant cottage could offer.

"What kind of life did you want for your son?" Torman asked.

"I had hoped to find a way to get him some land," Tom said. "He's not the eldest, you see, so he won't inherit this place."

"We also thought we might apprentice him," Lily added. "The money we gave you . . ." She trailed off. Tom put his hand around her shoulders. They both had to struggle not to cry.

Torman nodded. "He will survive. My herbs and my magic have assured that." The couple both started to smile but Torman raised his hand, forestalling them. "But, he will not regain his strength. He will never be a farmer, nor a craftsman, nor a soldier."

"An invalid?" Lily asked. She raised her hand to her mouth and shut her eyes tight.

"Not as such," Torman replied. "He will be able to walk and talk and so forth. He will never be strong and he certainly won't be capable of working a field or any such labor." Torman looked down at the table and took a deep breath, already regretting what he was about to offer. "He is a smart enough lad and he seems keen to reading."

"I told him not to let on about that," Tom said, making a disapproving face. "Still don't know just how he picked it up. No offense to you, sir. It's just not a farmer's lot to trouble about books and such like."

Torman raised an eyebrow. "Indeed. Normally children of farmers are not allowed to enter the Academy. Your son is a special case. As far as I can tell he taught himself to read. He must be exceptionally bright. He also has nowhere else to go. I will recommend him."

Lily's expression went from grief stricken to confused. "An augur?"

"No, no," Torman replied. "Magic requires almost as much physical exertion as farming or fighting. Your son will not be able to do that. But he does have a talent for words and letters. The Academy always needs translators."

"What's that?" Tom asked, now looking as confused as his wife.

Torman sighed. These peasants had probably never heard a language other than their own and written words meant nothing to them. He might as well explain the concept of running to a fish. "You call the thing we're sitting at a 'table.' In High Genasi, it's a 'roke.' I just translated from one language to the other. Do you understand?"

Tom started nodding, then shook his head. "No. No, I don't."

"Different people from different places have different words for things," Torman explained patiently. "So if we get a book written in High Genasi, we need someone who can read that language and translate it into our own. Else a great deal of knowledge is lost."

"Can he earn a living doing this?" Lily asked. She did not really know what the healer was talking about, but it did not much matter. The important thing was that her son would have a livelihood.

"Yes," Torman replied, appreciating her pragmatism.

Tom opened his mouth to speak, but Lily cut him off. "Can he earn a living doing anything else?"

Torman shook his head. "Not that I'm aware. His disability will be such that most trades will be closed to him."

Tom and Lily looked at each other. "I guess that settles it, then," Tom said. "My son is going to be a trans . . ."

"Translater," Torman said helpfully. He silently wondered how a boy raised by people such as these would ever find his way among the nobility, clergy, and gentry who populated the academy.
Chapter 1

A stillness accompanied the gathering dusk, a calm that should not have been. Jain looked around nervously. Normally she heard animals moving in the forest as well as birdsong. Her village sat right at the edge of the woods and her family's modest home was at the edge of town. By order of the laird, hunters and woodcutters had to travel deep into the forest for wood and game all summer. This ensured that those things would be close at hand during the harsh winter months. In the spring it was often quiet, the animals having been scared away. But now, in early autumn, the near woods teemed with life.

"Get a move on, girl," her father, Daniel, called from the house. "Airk won't want a dreamer for a wife."

Airk, she thought as she set her basket down and started to fill it with firewood from the pile. She was to marry him at the Winter Solstice festival. Airk was a good man and his family had a good farm. Together they would raise good children. But he was so dull. Airk thought of nothing save the best rotations for crops and the best feed for his livestock. The chickens and pigs surely appreciated it, but Jain wanted something else. She wanted something fun, or interesting, or even just different.

She scolded herself as she lifted the basket. Airk's family had asked no dowry, knowing that her family could afford none. He did not anger quickly and had never struck anyone. His taste for drink was limited to an ale at meal times. And he was handsome in the stocky, sturdy way of farmers. Jain could have been betrothed to Ian, the lunatic son of the blacksmith who just about everyone avoided, or Julian, the drunkard son of another farmer, or Dudley, the merchant's pig of a son. But her parents had done far better by her. She would have a good life with Airk, if a slightly boring one.

Someone knocked at the door as the family sat at dinner. Daniel put down the piece of bread that he had been eating and walked to the door. "Who could that be?" Jain's mother Joan asked.

Daniel opened the door and greeted Eduard. Eduard wore knee high leather boots and black trousers. A mismatched sword and dagger hung from his belt and he wore a simple dun colored shirt like those worn by soldiers. He had arrived a the village a few days earlier and had paid for a weeklong stay at the inn. No one knew who he was or why he was there, but the daughters of the village had all been advised to stay away. Jain looked at him, at his lean, wiry form, at his dark hair and tanned face, and at the garish scar on his cheek that gave his otherwise ordinary face its adventurous, almost feral character.

"What can I do for you, Master Eduard?" Daniel asked.

Eduard looked past Daniel and made eye contact with Jain for just a moment before she turned her eyes back to her food.

"I'm not happy with the accommodations for my horse at the inn," Eduard explained. "You have a good stable. I was wondering if I could put the horse up here. It will only be a few days and I will pay you."

Daniel glanced over his shoulder at Jain and her younger sister Eliza. "I'm sorry, Master Eduard. My stables are full and I wouldn't know how to take care of a horse so fine as yours."

Eduard started to say something, thought better of it, and nodded. "I'm sorry to have interrupted your meal."

After Eduard went away and Daniel returned to the table, Joan spoke. "We could use some coin."

Daniel shook his head. "I don't want him around. He's trouble. Some of us have been talking about having a word with Marcus about letting his type stay in town."

Jain wanted to say that Eduard had to stay somewhere and that Marcus the innkeeper needed the coin. But even though she would soon be married, Jain was still considered a child in this house and thus was to be seen and not heard.

The next morning Joan sent Jain to fetch some water from the village well. Jain carried two heavy buckets. Joan only needed one but carrying only one would put Jain off balance, and besides, she did not want to have to make the trip again that day if she could avoid it.

Most of the villagers were away at the fields. The harvest was coming in and every pair of hands would be needed if the villagers were to pay their taxes and survive the winter. That was why Jain was surprised to see Airk walking down the lane. A coin purse jingled in his belt as he walked.

"Master Airk," Jain said. "What are you doing in town?"

Airk smiled. He had a nice smile. He had the whitest teeth of anyone Jain knew. "Wishing I was on the farm. Father broke two of the tines on his hayfork this morning. He sent me to get another one."

"I though your family had three of every tool."

"I thought so, too," Airk answered regretfully. "One was broken last year and we never got around to replacing it. Another one broke today. I don't know what happened to the third one, though I suspect Eli had something to do with it." Eli was Airk's younger brother. Their father had tried to whip the mischief out of Eli on many occasions, but every discipline seemed to make the wayward boy a little more unpredictable. Airk nodded to the buckets in Jain's hands. "Do you need any help?"

Some part of Jain was flattered at the offer. It was a kindness for someone on an errand of his own, someone whose father rewarded tardiness with the lash, to make such an offer. That was not the part of Jain that said, "I can do it."

Airk nodded, smiled, and bade her good day.

As Jain filled the buckets she wondered if she had done the right thing in refusing Airk's offer. He was very kind and she knew that she would do well to cultivate that kindness. But Jain did not want to depend on him the way some women depended on their husbands. She wanted to be free to walk in the village and even in the woods by herself without Airk worrying all the time. As she began the walk home the vastness of her future spread out before her. She would have to work out how to get along with Airk, a boy she had always liked but was sure she would never love. She had to be the mistress of her own household, raise her own children, and make any number of decisions that Joan had always made for her.

A copper coin landed in the dust at Jain's bare feet. "Penny for your thoughts?" She looked in the direction from which the coin had come and into the pale blue eyes of Eduard. "You look troubled. Maybe you should have let your fiancée carry those buckets for you."

"I can do it," Jain repeated. She was a little short of breath, perhaps from the exertion of carrying the buckets. She set them down. "It's rude to eavesdrop."

Eduard shrugged as he stepped out from between the houses and into the lane. "Man like me needs to know what's going on. Nothing personal. Just an old habit. Too bad your father wouldn't let me put my horse up in your barn. He's quite a stallion." Eduard smirked. "But what troubles such a fine lady on such a fine day?"

"No trouble," Jain answered as she folded her arms. "I have a bright future and I'm only looking forward to it."

Eduard casually stepped closer to her and grinned. "Milking cows, feeding babies, sweeping the cottage. The thrill must be almost too much for you."

Jain was suddenly aware that he was very near to her. It did not bother her as much as it seemed like it should have. "That is the life that is given to me. It could be much worse."

Eduard looked away and sniffed. "I suppose. But it could be a bit less dull, couldn't it?"

"What are you saying?" Jain asked. She willed herself to take a step back from him but her legs did not comply.

Eduard leaned forward, close enough for her to feel his breath in her ear. "I could take you away from all of this. We could travel together, seek our fortune, take whatever we want, do whatever we want." He took a step back. "It's your life. You know where to find me. Good day." He stepped between the houses and disappeared.

Jain stood for a moment. Would Airk ever make her heart flutter the way Eduard just had? Would Airk ever whisper in her ear in a way that would make her body tingle? She shook herself out of it. Her mother needed the water and she had chores to do.

That night, Jain lay awake on her palette while Eliza snored next to her. Daniel and Joan slept in the palette opposite the fire while Jain's three brothers all shared the palette opposite her own. Airk's family's cottage had a common room, a room for Airk's parents, a room for Airk and Eli, and another room for Airk's sisters. They had also started a entirely separate cottage for Airk and Jain to live in once they were married. It would have two rooms to start and Airk had promised that more would be added as they were needed. For Jain this would be like living in the royal palace. But she could not sleep.

She startled when something tapped her shoulder. In the dim firelight she could just make out the shape of her father. Daniel raised his chin toward the door and Jain silently followed him out of the house. Under a starry sky the world felt strangely crisp and clear. Nights like this made Jain wonder why everyone did their work during the day.

"You are troubled," Daniel said matter of factly.

"Yes, father," Jain said, bowing her head.

"Tell me about it," Daniel said. He put a finger to her chin and gently raised her head so that she looked him in the eye.

She told him about it. She told him about her mixed feelings about Airk and about how Eduard had approached her with such a tempting offer. Daniel gritted his teeth and Jain lowered her head in anticipation of a blow. But Daniel did not raise his hand. Instead he spoke very softly. "Do you know why I betrothed you to Airk?"

"He's a good man," Jain said.

"Ivan offered me fifty sils if I would betroth you to Ian."

Jain gasped. Daniel had once had a very good harvest in a very bad year. That had brought the family thirty-seven sils and half of that had gone to the laird. With fifty sils Daniel could buy livestock, rent more land, anything he wanted really.

"I refused because I know Ian to be a violent man," Daniel explained. "The money would be a thrill, but seeing you in a good marriage was more important. Think about it, daughter. The rogue may offer you a thrill, an adventure. But it was not he who offered to help you carry the water. It was not he who built you a cottage. It was not he who will still be with you in your old age."

"Yes, father," Jain said. He was right, she knew. Eduard would abandon her as soon as she was with child. Even if she managed to avoid that, how long would it be before he cast her aside for some other maiden from some other village? She would end up a ruined, destitute woman if she went with Eduard. Airk would stay with her forever. When she was heavy with child, when her youth lay well behind her, until she slept in the cold earth, Airk would be with her.
Chapter 2

They went back inside, and Jain fell into the deepest sleep of her life.

The next day the family heard screams while they sat at breakfast. Daniel jumped up and grabbed his axe. "Boys, arm yourselves and protect your mother and the girls," he said on his way to the door. Joan barred the door behind him after he left. Everyone cast about for a weapon. Jain took a log from the fireplace. The commotion outside continued. Men shouted and cursed and were drowned out by roars that made Eliza whimper.

"What is that?" David, the oldest of the boys at sixteen, asked.

"Quiet!" Joan hissed.

Eliza began to bawl and Jain set down the log and started to whisper. "It's alright, sissie. Father will protect us. He'll protect the whole village. He's strong. But, Sissie, you need to stay quiet."

Eliza nodded. She continued to cry but she did so more quietly. Something crashed into the door. They all jumped and Eliza screamed. Jain snatched up the log.

"Daniel, is that you?" Joan called.

The crash came again and the nails on the door hinges came loose. "That's not father," David said as he took a step back.

The door fell off the hinges and a man stepped into the house. He had crescent shaped scars that started at the corners of his mouth and curved up to meet the corners of his eyes. Those eyes made Joan shriek. Those eyes held a depth of hatred none of them had ever seen. The scarred man howled his rage at . . . what? What had they ever done? He charged in, spear leading, at David. Jain struck the scarred man on the shoulder, throwing off his balance. She struck him across the face and he staggered back a few steps. Jain continued to strike. The log seemed to rise and fall of its own accord. When the scarred man fell, the log continued to strike. When he dropped his spear, when he ceased to move, when blood spattered onto the walls , the table, the uneaten food, the log continued to rise and fall, until a hand stronger than her own caught it and pulled it away.

"It's over," Daniel whispered as he hugged her tight. "They've gone."

The boys dragged the body outside while Joan saw to a cut on Daniel's thigh. The wound was not deep but it had been inflicted with a rusty blade and would fester if left untreated. Eliza went to the well for water to clean up the blood. Jain sat and trembled as she waited for the adrenalin to wear off.

"Who were they?" Jain eventually asked.

"They're called 'Rephaim'," Daniel said. "They come from Genasi. That's west of here. The city was destroyed; the people went mad."

Jain hugged herself. She had heard the stories of men gone raving mad, raiding, murdering, even eating people. "You beat them, father?"

"They attacked Allen's farm," Daniel explained. "Took them by surprise. But it would take a battering ram to get into that cottage. The farm is burning. Airk and some of the lads are working a bucket brigade." Daniel looked at the floor. "Airk's parents died. They were taken by surprise. His sister saw it. That was the scream we heard. Eli and Airk fought. Eli died, too."

Jain shook her head. "His whole family?"

"His sister is alive," Daniel corrected. "But she's not in her right mind. The augura said that she will take care of her."

"Is Airk okay?" Jain asked, almost sobbing.

"He is alive and he is not hurt," Daniel replied. "When I got there he was fighting with a hayfork. He was incredible. Eduard was there first and fought beside him. They made quite a pair."

"Are there many others dead?" Joan asked as she finished the bandage.

Daniel shook his head. "It could have been worse. Ian rushed in and got himself killed. The rest of us stayed close together. The widow Liselle was killed when one of the Rephaim fled into the village. I reckon it was the same one who broke in here."

Jain rose and smoothed her blood spattered shirt and skirt into something like a dignified arrangement. "I must go and see to Airk. He must be heartbroken."

"There's a good girl," Daniel said.

The bucket brigade had succeeded in saving both of Airk's family's cottages and the henhouse but the fields were lost. Airk sat on an old tree stump looking dazed. Eduard was next to him. A bottle sat between them and they took turns drinking from it. Eduard looked up at Jain's approach. When he saw that her attention was on Airk, Eduard stood up and patted Airk amiably on the shoulder. Then the rogue walked off toward the inn.

"Airk!" Jain cried. She wrapped him in a tight hug. For a moment he remained still but then he hugged her back and began to sob. They stayed that way for a long time. Some of the villagers would talk about such an inappropriate embrace between an unmarried couple but Jain did not care. After a while Airk stopped crying and let go. Jain sat down on the ground beside him. She tried to think of something to say, but what could she say to a someone who had lost so much?

"Are you hurt?" Airk asked suddenly. "You've bled so."

Jain looked down at her clothing. "It's not my own. One of them came into our house. I killed him. I . . ." She began to sob as the weight of what had happened sunk in.

They buried the dead that afternoon. The augura, a wise old woman learned in the ways of the gods and goddesses, said prayers to speed the dead villagers and those who had attacked them to the afterlife. There had been four Rephaim in the group. It seemed unlikely that the Rephaim had not planned to take on the whole village. Instead they must have intended only to attack the one farm, not realizing how quickly the other villagers would rally.

The women of the village left the cemetery first so that the men could observe their custom of urinating in the graves of their enemies. But the men came running quickly when they heard the sound of hoof beats approaching from the north, the direction of Airk's family's farm. A rider carrying the blue and yellow banner of Laird Tomkin approached.

"Make way for your laird!" the rider called.

The villagers all stepped off the road. A company of ten men wearing steel helmets and coated in chainmail approached on horseback. Tomkin rode at the front, his back straight, a sword on his hip, and a shield slung from the saddle. He was the very picture of a knight. He reigned in his horse in front of the augura.

"My lord," she said in her scratchy voice as she bowed.

Tomkin nodded. "We have tracked a band of Rephaim across the plain. We engaged them two days ago with great slaughter on both sides. Four of them escaped. Was it they who burned the farm we passed? Speak quickly." He did not look directly at the augura as he spoke but rather through her, as if she were too small a thing for his eyes to focus on.

"My lord," Airk interjected. "It was them. They killed all there save myself and my sister." Airk gestured to the rest of the villagers. "These people came to our aid. We killed all of the Rephaim."

Tomkin looked at the augura. "Is this true?"

"It is, my lord," she rasped. "The courage of our men is great."

"I know every man who holds a farm in my lands," Tomkin said, looking back at Airk. "But I do not know you."

"I am Airk," Airk said. "My father was Allen. He was killed by the Rephaim."

Tomkin nodded. "That's a fine piece of land your father had. Have you a family, Master Airk?"

"No, my lord. I am to wed this coming Solstice."

Tomkin nodded. "Very well. We shall take food and rest at the inn. My men and horses are tired from the chase. Where is the innkeeper?"

"Here, my lord," Marcus said as he stepped forward. "I will prepare everything for you." He bowed and scurried off.

Laird Tomkin and his company rode into town and the villagers began to follow. Jain went with them, but Daniel caught her arm. "I want you to stay with Airk tonight." He caught Eliza's sleeve as she walked by. "Both of you." He lowered his voice to a whisper. "Our laird and his men have been known to deprive young girls of their maidenhood." Jain looked around and saw that many fathers were talking to many daughters in hushed tones.

Joan gathered up food to take and accompanied her daughters to Airk's cottage. Daniel stayed behind with the boys in case the laird needed them for anything. It was a cool evening but not quite as clear as the night before had been. The women still found their way to the farm with ease. The smell of ash was as good as a beacon in the night.

In a nook between two cottages something moved in the shadows. Jain stopped and looked. She saw Eduard there, crouched low with his cloak drawn about him. He saw her and put a hand to his lips. Then he pointed at one of the walls. There was nothing remarkable about that wall, but beyond it, across the lane from the cottage, was the inn. Eduard was hiding. None of the laird's men were out, so he either enjoyed hiding for the sake of it or he had committed some crime for which he was still wanted. Jain was very glad then that she had not gone with him. She rushed to catch up with her mother and sister.

Airk greeted them with a smile. He had not had any thought of food since the battle, and, once he started eating, found that he was famished. The women kept looking around the cottage as they ate. They had known that it was split up into more than one room. What they had not known was that each room was bigger than Daniel's cottage, significantly bigger. The walls of Daniel's cottage were made of logs notched to fit together. The walls of Airk's cottage were made of logs that had been hewn to have four smooth sides. The family had carved pictures into the wood in some places and hung colorful blankets and other decorations in others.

The four of them ate their meal in silence. After they had eaten, Airk banked the fire and bolted the door. He also closed and latched the shutters on all the windows and leaned his hayfork against the wall next to the bed. The house had actual beds in all the rooms instead of the palettes that Daniel's family used.

Jain had never worried much about her family's station in life. They were peasants like everyone else in the village. Her impending marriage and the discussions around it had introduced her to the world of money. She had always known of money, known that some had it and her family did not. But she had always assumed that everyone else in the village was as poor as she.

As she lay awake in the divinely comfortable bed, Jain realized that Daniel and Joan had worked very hard to keep their poverty a secret from their children. Even when the harvest was bad they always had clean clothes that fit and the children always had food. Thinking back to the last bad harvest, Jain remembered her father spooning more food onto her plate. He had insisted that she looked too thin and needed to eat more. What had he eaten that night? What had Joan?

The more she thought about it, the more she realized that Daniel and Joan did not eat much and often skipped meals. And when was the last time Daniel had a new shirt or Joan a new dress? Jain remembered Daniel's shirt being new, years and years ago. He had been very pleased with it. So pleased was he that he had almost thrown out the old, threadbare one. But Joan had told him to keep it so that he would not have to go bare chested every washing day. Starving, dressed in rags, and living in a hovel, Daniel and Joan raised their children to think that they were as rich and comfortable as anyone else. And, after so many years of deprivation, Daniel was offered money for the only asset he had. He had turned it down and arranged a marriage with Jain's happiness in mind.

Jain wept then. Eliza turned and grumbled in her sleep. Jain got out of bed, not wanting to keep her sister up.

"Is everything alright?" Joan whispered.

They walked into the main room where the fire burned low. Jain hugged her mother and sobbed. With the sense of a mother, Joan did not ask questions. She simply hugged and comforted her daughter. When Jain could speak she told Joan about it.

"Don't be sad," Joan said. "And don't feel guilty. Your father and I love you. We love our family. Food and money come and go." She framed Jain's face in her hands and kissed her daughter's forehead. "You and Eliza and the boys are all we care about."

In the morning Jain insisted that her mother rest and relax while Jain made breakfast. Joan did not rest. She collected eggs from the henhouse and skimmed the cream off the milk that Daniel had gotten from the family cow the previous evening. Eliza tidied up the bedrooms and Airk went out to the fields to see if anything could be salvaged.

Airk did not eat much. He mostly talked about his family. Eliza began to speak a few times, but Joan shushed her. They let Airk speak, telling stories about his parents and his sisters. He said that he would have to go into town later to see how the augura was doing with his one remaining sister. He speculated about when she could come home. But he mostly talked about his younger brother. Eli had always been the mischievous one and Airk had resented him bitterly for it. Now he spoke of Eli's pranks with a hint of longing and a lot of affection.

Jain wanted to cry as she listened, but she did not. If storytelling got Airk through his grief then she would let him do it all he wanted. Airk was in the middle of telling the story of the time Eli had somehow managed to replace ten egg yolks with water without their mother noticing until she tried to cook with them, when a knock at the door interrupted. "Open, in the name of Laird Tomkin!"

Airk rose and opened the door. Tomkin stood on the threshold. He had taken off his armor and now wore a simple tunic and trousers. A red sash across his chest announced his rank, along with the matched sword and dagger at his belt that were too fine for any peasant to afford. Two of his soldiers flanked him.

"My lord," Airk said with a bow. "You are most welcome."

Tomkin and the two men entered the cottage without bothering to wipe their heavy boots. The laird surveyed the cottage with disgusted indifference while the two men poked about. "I have come about the matter of your taxes," Tomkin said. "Sit, and we will talk."

Airk and Tomkin sat down at the table and the soldiers took up positions on either side of the laird. "How long has your family been on this land?" Tomkin asked.

Airk explained that his family had been there since before the establishment of the shire some five generations earlier. Airk's ancestor had served under Tomkin's ancestor in the campaign that had taken the land from the strange, twisted creatures that had once lived there. Since then Airk's family had been yeomen, farmers who owned their small holding. They paid taxes to the laird in the form of a set number of bushels of wheat every year. This made them much wealthier than most of the village families, who only rented their land and who, no matter how much they paid in coin or crop, seemed to go farther into debt to their laird every year.

Tomkin and Airk discussed the arrangement at length, which seemed odd since Tomkin well knew the terms under which people in his shire lived. It did give Jain a better understanding of just how well her parents had done for her in arranging the marriage. Daniel had inherited his father's debt and Daniel's sons would inherit his. They could not leave the land without permission because the debt, grown with every bad harvest, bound them to the laird. This endless cycle of poverty meant that they were tied to whatever plots Tomkin gave them. The peasant plots were always big enough to barely support a family. Paying even part of the rent meant that the peasants had to scrape to get by and could never get ahead. Airk was free of that. His descendants would be, too.

"You and you," Tomkin said, pointing to Joan and then Eliza. "Go home and . . ." He gestured vaguely. "Farm or something. You." He pointed to Jain. "Stay."

Joan gave Jain a worried look, but she and Eliza departed.

Tomkin stood and paced around the room. "Tell me, Master Airk, how do you plan to pay your taxes this year?"

Airk leaned back in his chair and blew out a long sigh. "I have no idea, my lord. The crops were ruined by the fire and it is too late in the season for another harvest. My parents did leave me some money."

Tomkin clucked his tongue. "The arrangement is for wheat by the bushel. I've no interest in your money."

"I understand, my lord." Airk rubbed his forehead as he thought. "We do have some livestock."

"No. My castle's pens are filled to bursting." Tomkin stopped at the side of the table nearest to where Jain stood. The laird placed his hands on the table and leaned forward so that he was almost face to face with Airk. "It would appear that you are in default."

Airk opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. The muscles of his face clenched as if he suffered some great pain. Jain would have not have faulted him for openly weeping then. But Airk composed himself. "Can there be no arrangement, my lord?"

"Perhaps," Tomkin said, pushing off the table. "You are the last of the yeoman in this shire. I suppose that might be worth preserving." He turned to Jain and leered. "I could collect what is mine next year, if you give me something for my trouble." He took a step toward Jain.

"My lord," Airk said as he stood up. Both of Tomkin's men drew their swords and pointed them at Airk. "She is not mine to give," Airk explained desperately. "Our wedding is not for some months."

Tomkin smirked. "Then you are not of much use to me, are you, peasant?" He reached out and fondled Jain's breasts. Like all peasant women Jain had been taught not to resists the advances of a laird. He owned the land and everything on it and to resist his will was to be executed. Better to allow herself to be ravaged, even to risk birthing a bastard, than to risk her own torture and death. But Jain had killed a man the day before, killed him while her brothers stared in shock. Her nerves had not really recovered and she acted without thinking. She struck Tomkin. It was no slap, but a close-fisted blow that connected solidly with the laird's nose. He took a step back as blood poured down the front of his shirt. "Hrnns!" he gurgled in a failed effort to say, "Guards!"

Both guards turned and Airk took the opportunity to flip the table. It landed on the foot of one of the guards. The other guard looked back at his fellow. Jain took the opportunity to kick the laird in the crook between his legs. As he crumpled, she grabbed the sword in his belt.

The guard who did not have his foot trapped under a table advanced on Jain and swung his sword. Jain tried to block, but Tomkin's sword was heavy and it flew out of her hand when the guard's blade hit it. Jain tried to back away and hit the wall.

Airk grabbed a cooking pot from beside the fire and flung it. The clang of metal on metal filled the cottage as the pot dented the guard's helmet. Jain stepped sidewise and picked up the laird's fallen sword in a two handed grip. She swung with the intent of decapitating the guard. About halfway through the swing she stumbled and the blade went high and connected with the guard's helmet. The flat of the blade and not the edge connected. The guard, still reeling from the first hit, fell into a seated position. His sword slipped from his grasp and he made no move to pick it up.

The other guard managed to get his foot out from under the table. He took a step, howled in pain, and collapsed. Airk took his sword. "What do we do?"

Jain stood, shaking. What could they do? She had assaulted a laird and Airk had helped her. If they were lucky they would hang. More likely they would be tortured to death by the augura or perhaps by Tomkin's personal augur. "We have to get away," she finally said. "Far away."

"Alright," Airk said lamely. "Where do we go?"

"Anywhere!" Jain shouted suddenly. She took a few deep breaths. "We need to tie them up. Give us time to get away."

"Right," Airk said. He undid the sword belt of the guard with the broken foot and used it to bind the guard's arms. Then he did the same with the other guard, who was too dazed to resist.

Tomkin had somewhat recovered, but with only his dagger and confronted by two swords he could do nothing but let them do what they would. Jain untied his sword belt and fastened it to her own waist.

"Never forget," she told him as Airk trussed Tomkin up with a bit of rope. "Never forget that it was peasant girl who beat you." She leaned in and whispered. "Shamed you." And then she spat on him.

"We can't take that sword," Airk said. "Someone would recognize it."

Jain looked at the sword. Its hilt was worked with jewels and the pommel shaped into a stylized lion's head. She pushed the tip of the blade into a crack between the floorboards. Airk gave her a questioning look, but then helped her push it in further until the blade stood up on its own. Jain leaned on the hilt so that the blade bent.

"No!" Tomkin cried. And the blade snapped.

The dagger was of a similar, quite recognizable make. Jain tossed it into the fireplace and took the remaining guard's sword. It was heavy in the scabbard and interfered with her balance, but she would get used to it. Airk quickly grabbed a change of clothes, some food, and his family's money box, cleverly hidden behind one of the blankets on the wall.

Jain at first thought to take some of Airk's sister's clothes but she thought better of it and took Eli's clothes instead. If she was going to be an outlaw she would have to wear something more practical than skirts. They helped themselves to the guards' horses; the laird's was too distinctive, and they rode off toward the wilds.

They agreed that they could not risk the main road. Airk knew of a deer track that would get them well away before Tomkin and his men could get themselves free. The track was a secret way used by peasants and outlaws trying to avoid the authorities. That was why they were both surprised when they overtook another rider.
Chapter 3

"Eduard?" Jain asked as they approached.

Eduard had drawn his sword and wheeled his mount when he heard them. He had a hunted look in his eye. "What are you two doing here?"

Jain opened her mouth, a lie already forming in her mind, when Airk said, "The same thing you are, I'd wager."

Eduard tilted his head, curious, but not quite trusting. "What did you do?"

Airk nodded in Jain's direction. "She gave our laird some trouble."

"Oh," Eduard lowered his sword as his gaze fixed on Jain. "What sort of trouble?"

"He tried to touch me," she said, her stomach queasy at the thought. "I punched him."

"Then she kicked him in the stones," Airk added.

"Hah!" Eduard said. "Brilliant."

"Then she broke his sword." Airk wore a forlorn expression. "I've never heard of anything like it."

Eduard sheathed his sword. He regarded them both for a moment before he spoke. "I don't know if believe it."

Jain looked at Eduard. "What did you do?"

Eduard scratched the back of his neck. "Do you like venison?"

Jain shook her head. "I've never had it. We're not allowed to . . . Oh."

"It was a long time ago," Eduard explained. "I've done a lot else since then." He turned his horse back the way he had been going, away from the village and the danger it held. "Come on. There's a place where we can hide."

He led them deep into the woods. Jain shivered in the gathering dusk and Airk looked around apprehensively. Eduard slowed his horse and periodically nodded at trees, rocks, and other things that meant nothing to his companions. Just before full dark they rounded a particularly thick tangle of trees and bushes and founded a cottage built into the side of a hill. A number of windows gave off inviting orange light and by that light they saw a winding stone path to a heavy, oak door. That door opened and they saw the outline of a woman with her hands on her hips. The woman radiated authority despite her slender form and unexceptional height.

"Bringing home strays again, Eduard?"

"No, grandmother," Eduard said, grateful that in the dim light the others could not see him blush. "These are friends."

"Put your horses away in the stable," the woman said. "I'll put together a meal."

"Grandmother?" Airk asked when the door closed.

Eduard swung down from the saddle and smiled. "Tomkin comes from a long line of nobles. You come from a line farmers. I come from a line of rogues."

The interior of the cottage was divided into several rooms as Airk's had been. Unlike Airk's cottage, this one had a fine brass chandelier hanging from the ceiling, woven rugs on the floors, doors between the rooms, and a variety of other luxuries that neither Jain nor Airk had ever seen.

"Take off your boots," Eduard's grandmother said as the trio entered. There was a bench next to the front door where Airk and Eduard sat and began to remove their boots. Jain was barefoot, so she simply stood and stared. "No shoes, dear?" Eduard's grandmother asked. "Perhaps we can find you some." The old woman smiled. She had a mouth full of white teeth and her dark eyes seemed to glow.

The grandmother had white hair tied back and somewhat concealed under a headscarf. Despite her age she stood perfectly straight, moved easily, and carried herself with an obvious awareness of the womanly curves the years had not taken away. "Have you never seen an old woman?" she asked as Jain stared.

"Forgive me," Jain said, looking away. "In the village . . ."

"Women past childbearing look like old rags," the grandmother finished for her.

"Life in the woods agrees with you," Airk observed. Something in his tone gave Jain a stab of jealousy, but she quickly recognized the courtesy for what it was.

"Freedom agrees with me," the grandmother said. She shook her head. "Where are my manners? I am Coursa. For my sins, I'm Eduard's grandmother."

"I'm not that bad," Eduard replied.

Coursa's smile returned. "I didn't say I regretted the sins."

Airk blushed. Jain decided that she liked Coursa immensely.

"So what brings such upstanding young people to this place?" Coursa asked as she set three steaming mugs on the table.

Eduard explained what had happened. When he got to the part about Jain kicking Tomkin, Coursa laughed giddily and clapped her hands. "Good for you, dear girl," Coursa said. "Tomkin's grandfather tried to have his way with me. I gave him the same treatment. Let's hope you kicked him harder than I kicked his grandfather. We could do with that line ending."

Jain looked at Airk in wide-eyed shock. He only shrugged.

They ate a meal of roasted fowl and vegetables washed down with a finer ale than Jain had ever tasted. After they had cleaned up, Eduard announced that he was going to bed and leaving Coursa to regale the new arrivals with tales of her youth.

"Not so fast," Coursa said sternly.

"Ah, yes," Eduard guiltily replied. He reached under his shirt and produced a pouch the size of a man's fist. He handed this to Coursa. She undid the drawstring that held it shut and counted out five gold coins the size of a cat's paw on the table.

"Eduard," Coursa said impatiently.

Eduard sighed. He turned to face the wall and reached into his pants. When he turned back around he held another pouch like the first. Coursa counted three more gold coins out of it.

Jain and Airk watched with bulging eyes. A gold coin, a henry, was worth twelve sils. Coursa could have bought anyone in the village with the money now sitting on the table. Jain looked up at Airk. "Have you ever seen so much money?"

"Yes," he said distantly. "My family saved for three generations to make it."

Coursa put four of the coins in a pouch and handed them back to Eduard. The rest . . . neither Jain nor Airk saw what happened to the other four coins. They were on the table and then they were not.

"Where did you get all that money?" Jain asked. "I've never seen so much."

"I relieved an augur of it," Eduard explained. "Grandmother learned that he kept most of his 'donations' in one pouch and the gold 'donations' in another. Since he hardly ever gets gold it probably took a few days for him to notice that it was gone."

"You've done well," Coursa said. "Now off to bed with you. I'll entertain our guests." She made tea and told Jain and Airk of the days when she was younger and had caught the eye of Laird Tomkin's father. She had used her charms to relieve the young man of a number of valuables. When his father, Tomkin's grandfather, found out, she had been captured and brought to him. He had offered to commute her death sentence in exchange for a bit of whatever virtue she had left. She had agreed, gone to his bedchamber willingly, and kneed him in the groin as soon as he was close and then struck him with a candelabra. Then she escaped out the window, carrying the candelabra and a few other trinkets with her.

The old laird might not have been so quick to lust for her had he known that she carried his grandchild, the half brother of laird Tomkin. Coursa laughed at the scandalized looks on both Jain and Airk's faces. "Tomkin's father was charming," she explained. "I did not steal a thing from him. I only asked and he complied, so badly did he want me." She frowned. "We might have had a life together, but . . ." she waved as if brushing aside a curtain.

"So Eduard is Tomkin's nephew," Airk said.

"Some of my grandchildren are," Coursa said with a smile. "But not him. His mother is one of the children I had with my . . ." She paused. "I'll call him my husband. He was with me for years. We had many children together." She raised her eyebrows. "He was older than me. He died in his fortieth year."

"You've managed well without him," Airk observed, looking around the cottage.

Coursa told them other stories about herself and her children. She had raised a large brood and had outlived most of them. Old age was not the leading cause of death among thieves, rogues, and mercenaries. Those who had survived still tended her and she had a network of grandchildren and even a few great grandchildren who brought her information and stolen coin from all over the shire and beyond.

"And now that you know of me, of my family and what we do," Coursa said when she had finished her stories. "Will you join us?"

Airk rubbed his stubbly chin. "I don't see as we have much choice. We can't go home."

Jain shook her head. "I was a faithful peasant this morning. Now I'm an outlaw."

"Yes, dear," Coursa said, an edge creeping into her voice. "But are you _my_ outlaw."

Jain nodded. "You gave us food and shelter. You opened your home to us. You've earned our faith more than that bastard Tomkin ever did."

Coursa smiled. She raised her hand and slowly lowered it. Jain and Airk looked behind them. Eduard stood very close, sheathing his dagger.

"You would have . . ." Jain began.

"Nothing personal, dear," Coursa said. "We survive only by being careful. Eduard brought you. It was reckless, but I'm glad he did. Now rest. This morning I was just thinking about how badly I need an upstanding young couple for a little errand."
Chapter 4

The errand lay to the south and west, in the city of Sorena. The distance was no more than a few days' ride over fairly smooth country. The real trick was to cross the border between the loose federations of Lairds known as The Holdings and enter Sorena. That frontier represented not only another nation but another faith.

The religious affairs of The Holdings were overseen by the augurs, clerics who followed an elaborate pantheon of deities. Their worship involved sacrifice, occasionally human sacrifice, and a variety of other rituals to win their gods' favor. Sorena and everything west of it had fallen under the sway of the Adaran shepherds. Adara had lived a few centuries before and had preached against the old gods. In the four western kingdoms of Genasi, Keston, Sorena, and Perimain the Adaran faith had flourished as one monarch after another was converted.

The inherently disorganized nature of The Holdings, where lairds routinely warred with one another and had not managed to agree on a king in centuries, had made it all but impossible for the Adaran Church to maintain any meaningful foothold. The Adarans had eventually stopped trying to win converts and instead switched to the tactic of encouraging the Adaran monarchs of Genasi and Sorena to invade The Holdings. But the Adaran kings had quickly fallen to fighting each other. The Holdings remained happily free, for the lairds' and augurs' definitions of "happy" and "free". Adarans viewed anyone who was not an Adaran as something less than human. This made travel difficult for anyone wanting to enter Sorena from The Holdings. To cross into Adaran lands was to risk death at the hands of the shepherds.

Coursa needed emissaries who would seem respectable and unthreatening if she was going to do business in Sorena. Someone as clearly disreputable as Eduard would stand no chance of getting through. An illiterate peasant couple, with a few coins to ease their passage, would have a much better chance.

Coursa explained all this over dinner in her cabin. Eduard and another of Coursa's grandsons named Grima would accompany Jain and Airk as far as the frontier. That way the couple could travel armed and leave their weapons behind before they met any Sorenian soldiers. Entering Sorena unarmed would make them seem like less of a threat. On the way there and back they would have the protection of their weapons as well as Eduard's arms and cunning and the skills of Grima.

The next day they met Grima and Eduard sat with them as Coursa went over the plans in more detail. Grima had black hair and pale skin. The contrast made him look a bit ill at all times even though there was nothing else visibly wrong with him. He was an augur and his presence would discourage anyone harassing the expedition for fear of the hexes and ill favor of the gods that he might bring down. Jain's gaze kept returning to Grima, though she willed it not to. His sickly visage did not appeal to her and neither did his harsh voice. Despite all that Grima had an allure, an unmistakable attraction that made Jain want to study his every move. Looking at him also took her mind off the discomfort of her new clothes. Eli's tunic and baggy trousers and the boots Coursa had given her fit well enough. Jain had never worn such clothing before and it did not wear right yet.

For his part, Grima focused entirely on his grandmother, as did Eduard. Grima had magic, or at least the threat of magic, and Eduard had his blades and the skills to use them. They both deferred to the unarmed and apparently mundane old woman at the head of the table. Jain wondered what that meant, exactly. Was Coursa's wisdom and cunning so great that she could control her army of grandchildren out of respect alone, or did this old woman hold some hidden power that made the brave shudder?

Coursa placed a drawing on the table. It was a rough charcoal sketch of something that looked like a bow across a heavy wooden block. "This is a picture of a crossbow," she explained. "I don't know how it works." She shook her head. "No one does, really. They make them in Keston and rumor is that they are available in Sorena. It's said that they shoot better than our hunting bows. Rumor has it that a bolt shot from one of these will slice through chainmail like it's cheese. Laird Hadrid wants one . . . Badly."

"What good is one crossbow?" Airk asked.

"He wants to copy it," Coursa explained. "He wants an advantage over the other lairds."

"Didn't he have a feud with Tomkin?" Jain asked.

"They are sworn enemies," Grima said in a harsh, slightly nasal voice. "He is my laird. When he expressed his interest I offered to see to it for him."

"You have to get at least one crossbow," Coursa said. "You have to bring it back intact and undamaged. You have to do this without the Adarans knowing. They will not want the followers of the old ones having such a weapon."

"Can Jain and I discuss it alone?" Airk asked.

Coursa smiled warmly and said, "No."

"How much will you pay us?" Jain asked.

"Four henries a piece," Coursa replied. "Plus the cost of bribing your way into Sorena and buying the crossbow."

Four henries was four more than Daniel and Joan had ever seen or ever would see, Jain knew. Still, she suspected that for something as valuable as the crossbow she might be able to get a little more. As she contemplated her bargaining strategy, Airk spoke.

"That's a lot of coin," he said.

Jain looked at him with murder her in her eyes. Coursa looked from Jain to Airk, and then back again. The old woman's eyes twinkled with mirth when Jain met her gaze.

They set off in the morning. Jain was excited about the trip, but she was sad about leaving the cottage. It was the most comfortable place she had ever stayed and Coursa was like no other woman Jain had ever met. Jain did not know if she agreed with the way the old woman had lived and continued to live, but Coursa was free in a way that Jain had never been or even imagined being.

Airk's face was somber and he did not speak as they traveled.

"You alright there?" Eduard asked.

"Yeah," Airk said. "This is all just a bit sudden. I haven't even had a chance to mourn my parents and now I'm gallivanting off to Sorena."

"Might be better than way," Eduard said sympatheticallty. "Give you a chance to take your mind off it."

"What I really want is my farm. I'd do just about anything to get it back."

Eduard nodded though he did not really understand. How could a man who had never owned or desired a farm see how losing one would be such a bad thing? "Well, stay with us and save your coin. Maybe you'll be able to by another farm somewhere. This'll just be something to tell all the kids you have about when they complain about how boring farming is."

"I never thought it was boring," Airk replied, ending their conversation. He did not mean to be harsh or mean. Farming was all Airk knew, all he had ever wanted to know. Adventure held no real appeal for him and he certainly did not want to be a thief or in league with them. But he had cast his lot with Jain and now he had to follow that course whereever it went.

The forest ended in a cluster of low, rocky hills. A few stunted trees grew there but it was mostly tall grass and the occasional thorn bush. "We've just cross into the Zohershire," Eduard called as they rode up the hill.

"We're free!" Jain shouted. They were not, really. They were still peasants and rogues, but they were out of Tomkin's reach and that was enough. She smiled at Airk. He smiled back but sadness weighed heavily in his eyes. Jain coaxed her horse a little closer to his. "I want you for my husband, Airk."

He nodded. "I want that, too."

She leaned slightly toward him. "I want you to be my husband, whether we're married or not."

"You're spending too much time with my grandmother," Eduard said. He gave Jain an appraising look. "You're getting to be like one of the family. Too bad the farmer over there won't get with it. Hey! You're a rogue now. It's not so bad."

Airk took a deep breath as they reached the top of the hill. He looked around at the woodlands and farmlands stretching out and at the open sky overhead. At last his gaze came to rest on Jain, the woman he had chosen for a wife and who had accepted him. And then he smiled genuinely, a smile that reached his sad eyes. "It's not bad at all."

"That's wonderful," Grima said over his shoulder. "Now can we please focus on our task?"

"I'm sorry, Grima," Eduard said, throwing a wink at Jain and Airk as he spoke. "Did our talking interrupt you staring at absolutely nothing?"

Grima made a wet, rasping sound in the back of his throat as he urged his horse on.

After a few hours they came within sight of a farm. Beyond the farm lay a village. It had stone walls twice as high as a man was tall and imposing towers in which archers could hide. The homes and shops of the villagers rested within the walls, safe in the event of attack by the Sorenians or whoever else might see fit to attack an unexceptional village in the middle of nowhere.

"Zoher," Eduard said. "The people are sullen, the ale is weak, and the women are cold."

"Then you won't mind staying here while I go into town for the night," Grima hissed. "Laird Colin is Tomkin's ally," Grima continued. "His guards may know of you. We cannot risk any of the three of you entering the town."

"What then?" Airk asked.

"Make camp here," Grima replied. "I'll come back in the morning. If the laird's men approach then bow politely and tell them you are on your way south to Hedronshire to work the autumn harvest. Do not get into any trouble." He cracked his horse's reins and rode off without waiting for an answer.

"Pleasant fellow," Jain said. "Not much like you or your grandmother."

"Never been," Eduard replied. "Even when we were kids he was like that. Grandmother arranged for him to become an augur because he's too glum to be anything else." Eduard looked around. "There's some trees over there. It's not quite a forest, but it'll have some wood and some shelter from the wind."

Airk and Eduard walked among the trees, picking up fallen limbs. Cutting a laird's wood without permission was a hanging offense throughout The Holdings. Normally Eduard would not have cared but he knew that to start trouble was to risk the success of the errand. To risk the success of the errand was to risk his grandmother's anger. After they had eaten, Eduard went through the wood pile and pulled out a few stout sticks about the same length as a sword. He handed one to Airk and one to Jain and kept one for himself. "Come on. You need to learn to use those swords."

Jain stood and looked at her stick. It was heavy and hard to balance when held at only one end. Eduard noticed her trouble and said, "Hold it straight up. Closer to your body, like this . . . There you go. Have a swing." Jain and Airk both swung their sticks. Eduard smacked Airk on the arm. "Get your guard back up after you swing." He walked them through the basics of swinging, blocking, and stance. When he had finished the lecture, Eduard asked Jain to step back so that he and Airk could spar.

Airk took a stance like the one Eduard had shown him and they began to spar. Jain feared that Eduard would humiliate Airk and use the training as an excuse to give him a beating. Instead Eduard kept his swings so light that he barely touched Airk. Airk took his instruction quietly, but he was slow and had a tendency to swing and watch what happened instead of recovering his guard, moving his feet, or flowing into a second attack. Eduard told Jain it was her turn when Airk began to breath heavily.

Jain felt her heartbeat in her ears. She had fought Tomkin and his men but she had never had time to think about it or to worry about what might happen. The men she had fought had always been taken off guard, not like Eduard who now had his weapon at the ready and stared intently as he awaited her attack. Jain hesitated and adjusted her grip. Eduard swung. Wood cracked against wood and Jain lost her right hand grip on her weapon. She managed to hold on with her left but her wrist twisted awkwardly and she could do no more than back away as Eduard swung again.

"Good," he said. "If you can't block, move." He swung a third time. Jain leaned back and let it go by before countering with a swing of her own, which Eduard blocked easily. He commended her on the recovery but chided her for her sloppy balance. Without balance, he explained, she would not be able to hit hard enough to seriously wound or kill an opponent. They continued to spar. Jain did well but she never seemed to swing hard enough.

It was full dark before Eduard told her they needed to stop. He tossed his stick into the fire and grinned at the couple. "You're too slow, Airk. And you don't move your feet near enough. Jain moves pretty well, but she hits about as hard as a butterfly." Eduard sat and held his hands up to the fire. "Between the two of you, you make one good swordsman. Not bad for your first day's training."

"How long did it take you to learn?" Airk asked.

Eduard chuckled. "About forever. I kept dropping my sword. Grandmother insisted I learn, though."

Jain sat down next to Airk and he put his arm around her shoulders. She rested her head against him and inhaled the scent of his sweat. "I never thought I'd have a chance to learn," she said.

"I never thought I'd need to," Airk replied.

Grima returned in the morning. While in town he had learned that Laird Colin's men patrolled the border but that they did so in a leisurely fashion and tended to stay very close to the village. In the past Sorenian raiders had tried to make off with livestock, but the land was too barren for them to have any real cover as they went. In the end it was just not worth the risk of winding up as an augur's offering to the gods to steal cows and sheep. The Sorenian side of the border was also patrolled but not very heavily. There had been war between Sorena and Perimain, a country to the west as well as some trouble with Rephaim on the northern border of Sorena. The disorganized pagans to their east had become less of a concern for the Sorenians and their troop dispositions showed it.

"Do not make trouble," Grima ordered afterhe finishedhis report. "Bribe the soldiers if you have to. You are trying to escape our barbarian ways so that you may have a farm and a family in more civilized lands."

"Will they believe that?" Airk asked, his expression doubtful.

"They will want to believe it," Grima replied. "They are Adarans. They welcome converts and treat all other faiths as suspect. They barely tolerate the Satram wanderers."

Jain had heard of the Satram, a strange, nomadic people who traveled Adaran lands in caravans. The Satram were not allowed in The Holdings by order of the Council of Augurs. The Satram did not follow the Old Ones and the augurs claimed to fear the corruption they might bring to the people. But whispered rumors persisted among the peasants that what the augurs and the lairds really feared was that the Satram would tell stories of better living in Adaran lands and incite the peasants to leave or rebel. Despite the order a number of goods associated with the Satram found their way into homes and markets in The Holdings. Even poor Daniel had a knife of Perimain make, far superior to the blades made by any smith in The Holdings. Now Jain had a pretty good idea who brought the contraband in.

"Buy the crossbow, don't steal it," Grima was saying. "Make no trouble of any kind. When you leave, do it at night and do it quietly. Being stopped on your way in will not cause trouble. If you are stopped on your way out, by Colin's men or by Sorenians, then you will surely die."

"Where will we find the crossbow?" Airk asked. "We've never been to Sorena."

"Start at the market," Grima replied. "If they can't help you there, then find the thieves' guild. Every city has one, usually in the bad part of town. Keep your wits about you if you deal with them and mention that grandmother sent you. She has no influence there but her name is known and it might help. Now bow your heads and I will bless you." Jain and Airk both bowed their heads. Grima waved his hands over them and said something neither of them understood. When he had finished he assured them both that they had the blessing of the god Corb and that he would look after them in their travels.

Jain and Airk left their swords at the camp and rode west toward Sorena. The day was cool but not unpleasantly so, and Jain enjoyed the feeling of the wind in her long, fair hair. She caught Airk looking at her often and she smiled at him in a way that made him blush. They would have to spend at least one night in Sorena. One night in an inn, together, alone. Jain smiled anew as she thought of it.

They could see for miles across the grassy landscape, though there was not much to see except more flat land stretching away in every direction. By and by something poked out of the ground ahead. As it drew nearer it grew visible as a tower made of stone, a watchtower. The stonework was finer and more precise than anything Jain or Airk had ever seen, and as they drew closer they saw that the top of the tower was actually a kind of roofed arch from which soldiers could look out but still have some protection from the elements.

"Let's try to go around," Airk said. "I'd rather not meet any soldiers."

Jain looked to her left, then her right, and then back. They and the tower were the only things to be seen for miles. "Alright. But I'm sure they've seen us."

A short time later the doors at the base of the tower opened and four riders came out to meet Jain and Airk. The couple reigned in their horses and raised their right hands in greeting. Three of the Sorenians were soldiers in stud leather armor with swords belted to their hips. The fourth wore a white tunic with a black wheel emblem over the chest. A war hammer hung from his belt. Adarian shepherds took an oath to never draw blood. They could bash someone to death, but they could not draw blood.

"What is your business here?" the shepherd asked. Sorena and The Holdings used the same language, though the Sorenian version had a gentler, more refined sound.

"We were hoping to enter Sorena and find a place to settle, my lord," Airk replied. "The Holdings have been attacked by Rephaim."

The shepherd nodded, making his jowls flap. The soldiers, sitting on their mounts behind him, looked around without interest. "We have had reports of the Rephaim moving east. By the grace of Adara, they have been defeated in the Genasi Valley and in Perimain. But how do I know that you come in good faith and not as spies or to spread the foul heresies of the gods of The Holdings?"

"If Adara drives away the Rephaim then she is a greater being than ours," Airk replied. "We come to you unarmed and in broad daylight."

"Have you any more ladylike clothes with you, young woman?" the shepherd asked.

"I have a dress in the saddlebags," Jain replied. "These clothes are more practical for traveling."

The shepherd nodded again. "As you have no weapons and I sense nothing ill about you, I shall allow you to pass. Young lady, you will dress in a more ladylike manner henceforth. Know, too that you will be noticed in Adaran lands. If you fail to embrace Adara or if you are found to be worshipping the heathen gods the punishment will be most severe."

"We thank you for your concern, shepherd," Airk said. "Is there some token I might offer you to show my gratitude? We have some coin. It's not much, but perhaps a few sils would benefit your church."

The shepherd waved dismissively. "Use your coins to buy a plow and seed. We will take our due from your harvest. Now be on your way. The soldiers of Sorena are brave and competent but it is still not wise to be out of doors after nightfall."

Airk thanked the shepherd again and he and Jain rode on. Beyond the tower lay a path beaten into the grass by the soldiers and their horses on the way back and forth to the city. Jain smiled as they rode. "That was easier than I thought."

"What have they to fear from us?" Airk asked. "We have no weapons and no magic. Unless you know something I don't."

Jain shook her head and urged her horse on. The sun had nearly set by the time they reached a farm. Past it lay a cluster of buildings. Many of the buildings were two stories high, some even three. Even with such tall buildings the city was several times as wide as the village Airk and Jain were from. Airk called to one of the farmers and pointed to the buildings ahead. "Is there anything special we have to do to get into Sorena?"

The farmer looked at the buildings down the road and then back at Airk. The farmer laughed. "Boy, that's no more Sorena than I am the king. That's Tovlar, our village. Sorena's another day on by foot. Where are you from?"

Jain smiled. "Someplace small. Is there an inn here?"

"Not as such," the farmer replied. "The chapel has rooms for weary travelers, though they won't be happy to see a woman in trousers there."

"Maybe you'll let me change in your stable?"

The farmer allowed it when Airk offered him a few pennies. After Jain had changed, she and Airk rode into Tovlar. The found the chapel and explained that they had abandoned The Holdings for a new life in Sorena. The shepherd performed a ritual they did not understand that involved him pouring water over their heads. The chapel's deacon prepared a meal and they ate while the shepherd told them about the ways of Adara.

Adara's followers never made sacrifices, shunned drunkenness, magic, and violence, and sought to bring others into the light of their church. Jain did not understand what any of this had to do with pants or anything else she wanted to wear but she chose not to make an issue of it. Instead she enjoyed the meal and thanked the shepherd when he showed them to their room. The accommodations consisted of a bed with a straw stuffed mattress and . . . that was all.

Airk paced around the room. Jain sat down on the bed and took her boots off. He stopped and looked at her. His muscles were so tense that he trembled. Jain stood up and walked over to him. "Relax," she whispered into his ear. "Before you hurt yourself."

"We're not legally married," Airk said.

"We're not legally anything," Jain said, punctuating each word with a kiss on his neck. "Come to bed, husband."

"You're sure you're ready?" he gasped as she softly bit his neck.

Jain ran her hand up under his shirt. Airk's lean torso rippled with muscles earned from a life spent working in the fields. The supple feel of his flesh, the curves of his muscles, and the way his breath quickened as she touched him all felt very new but very right to Jain. This was how a man was supposed to feel, Jain decided. She gently massaged his chest and stomach, and worked her hand lower. "I'm starting to wonder if you ever will be." She leaned back a little as she spoke and caught his eye. The look there, the desperate longing, made her gasp. She smiled and led her husband to bed.

They set out early the next morning and at around midday they saw a great wall of yellow stone in the distance. Towers studded the wall. Airk stopped his horse and Jain did the same. "What is it?" she asked.

"I did not know men could build something like that," Airk replied. "How did they get the stones up there?"

Jain looked at the wall. It was at least twenty-five feet high and the towers reached higher. "Maybe they had a giant help them. Let's go and have a closer look."

They followed the road to the city gate. The gate was wide enough for a horse cart to enter and another to leave at the same time. Jain and Airk knew this because it was what was happening when they arrived. Guards stood on either side of the gate. Each held a pike in his right hand and each watched the crowd without interest. A number of people stood outside the gate. Some begged while others tried to sell various wares. None of them were selling crossbows.

Jain and Airk dismounted their horses and entered the city, leading the animals. The buildings seemed to brush the sky, as if everything had been carved out of the living rock of some great winding canyon. But many of the buildings were made of wood and even the stone buildings were of all different colors. It took Jain and Airk some time to determine that the stone must have been brought from elsewhere in a massive undertaking.

No less varied than the stones were the people. In The Holdings some people had blond hair and some had dark. Everyone was about the same height, shape, and color. In Sorena, dark southerners jostled pale northerners in the crowds. Stranger still were the people with narrow eyes and bright red hair. There were those with skin the color of ink and straight, white hair and those with white skin and ink black hair, like Grima but not so sickly in appearance. And none of these people seemed surprised to see the others.

Jain looked at Airk to see what he was thinking. He was gone. They had lost each other in the crowd. Panic seized her. She was alone in a vast city, far from home. Jain climbed up onto her horse to get a better view. The crowd on the main avenue was thick and many other people led horses. Neither Airk nor his horse were terribly big or distinctive, and Jain realized at once that her chances of finding them were slim.

"Excuse me," she said to a man as he passed by. He did not seem to notice. Jain repeated herself to a few other strangers who also ignored her. She finally climbed down from the horses and grabbed the sleeve of the first person to walk past. He was a giant of a man, well past six feet tall, with dark brown skin. The sides of his head were shaved so that his only hair was a fierce red crest like that of a rooster. Jain wondered if he was a man or some kind of ogre.

It took her a moment to think of a question to ask. The man could not possibly know Airk, nor Airk's horse. Jain realized that it would be easier to search for her husband if she did not have to deal with her horse. It was a fine beast, but it would be a liability on the crowded avenue. "Do you know a stable nearby, someplace where I can board my horse?"

Two more red-crested brown giants had stopped next to the one Jain had stopped. She felt very small and wondered what sort of land made men of such stature. The one whose sleeve she held said something in a language Jain did not know. One of his companions said, "What?"

Jain repeated the question and he directed her to a stable off the avenue. Jain thanked them and went on her way. The stable was where the man had said it would be. It squatted amid the taller buildings like a toad between two peacocks, but it was clean and all of the horses seemed to have decent feed and water. A stout, paunchy man sat at a desk amid the stalls.

"Need a place for your horse, mistress?" he asked. He nodded to the horse. "That's a horse from The Holdings, that is. Fine, friendly animals. Not as temperamental as Perimains, not stupid like Kestons. I hadn't seen one in years before today." He furrowed his brow. "This makes two today."

"Who had the other one?"

"Young fellow. He only had Holdings money. He went off to the money changer."

Jain nodded. She chatted with the stable keeper about horses and different kinds of money. In Sorena, gold coins were called "sors", silver were "dems" and copper coins were "coppers". The weights were all different and different people had all manner of theories about the quality of metals used, so the coins were not directly interchangeable. Jain did not really understand it all, but it passed the time until Airk came back from the money changer with more copper and less gold than he had gone with. They stabled their horses and got directions to an inn.

The innkeeper gave them a room on the fourth floor, the highest up either of them had been. The accommodations were simple but quite comfortable. As darkness settled, they tried to go to bed. A curious thing happened: the rest of the city stayed awake. When the sun went down, lanterns flared to life and people continued to talk and go about various errands on the avenue below. Somewhere music played while somewhere else there was a heated argument. Airk grumbled and tossed. Jain got out of bed and went to the room's one window, which looked out over the avenue. She stayed there for a very long time and watched the collage of humanity that moved through the Sorenian night.

The Holdings had only one city to speak of, the City of Books. The Academy was there, and the Council of Lairds as well as well as the Council of Augurs met there. Jain had never been there and seldom thought about it. What good was a city full of books to a farmer? Now she wondered about it, wondered if it was anything like this.

The next morning Jain and Airk followed the avenue to a place where the great buildings gave way to covered stalls. "You could do with some new threads," a man called to Airk. "Come on over. I'll fix you up better than the prince of Kargan."

Airk stared strangely at the man, a dandy in a purple feathered cap that matched his vest and trousers. He and Jain moved on. "Oranges," one vendor cried, "Cures all ailments of man and beast." "Pickles," another one hawked, "Old family recipe."

"How does anybody find anything here?" Airk asked.

"What?" Jain replied over the noise.

Airk shook his head. They passed vendors selling dogs, horses, and chickens. They smelled the aromas of spices, fish, and perfumes. They saw clothing of wool, leather, and a substance neither of them had ever seen called "cotton." Jain paused here and there to look at things and Airk gently but firmly urged her on. They eventually found a stall where a scarred man had swords on display.

"A blade for you, sir?" the man said. "These blades come all the way from the deserts of Zand. They are the finest blades in the world."

Jain stepped forward and admired the swords. Some of the blades curved weirdly while others were straight. Some had jewels set in their pommels and many had fanciful decorations etched into their blades. All looked strong and sharp.

"I don't need a sword," Airk explained. "But you might sell me a crossbow."

The scarred man pointed. "You might try the bowyer's stall, over there."

The bowyer had bows too small for anything but children's toys, stout hunting bows, and bows so big that it would have taken one of the red-haired giants Jain had met on the avenue to use them. "What do you need?" the bowyer asked. "A nice hunting bow? Maybe a heavy war bow for militia duty?"

"Actually, I was looking for a crossbow," Airk said.

The bowyer nodded. "I've never liked those things, but I happen to have a few." He reached into a box in the stall and pulled out two crossbows and set them on the table. Then he reached back into the box and pulled out two more. Jain could have held the smallest crossbow in one hand. The largest would be almost too big for Airk to handle.

"Which one's the best?" Jain asked.

The bowyer arched his eyebrows and looked at Airk. "Feisty one you have there."

Airk looked at Jain and then back at the bowyer. "You have no idea. So which one of these is the best?"

The bowyer looked over the selection. "Depends on your needs. The little hand crossbow is good for shooting small game but you won't stop a man with it. The big one is the most powerful, but it's not the best made."

"What do you mean?" Airk asked. "What's wrong with it?"

The bowyer picked up the heaviest crossbow and pointed to the bow portion. "The curve is crude. The weapon gets all of its strength from its size." He set the heavy crossbow down and picked up the one next to it. "Now look at this. The bow is recurved, like a high quality hunting bow. You'll also notice that the handle is carefully carved for a better grip." He handed the crossbow to Airk, who held it awkwardly for a moment before sighting along the stock.

Airk bought the crossbow and small pouch of bolts, miniature arrows that fit the crossbow. Jain watched the exchange with interest. It was only a few days ride to her home village, but there this item would be considered exotic, contraband even. In Sorena it was openly sold in the marketplace.

Jain wanted to stay and see more of the marketplace but Airk reminded her that Grima and Eduard were waiting for them. They paid the stable man for boarding their horses and left Sorena before noon. The journey home seemed to go a great deal faster than the journey there, mostly because they now knew the way. They could not stay in Tovlar again; the shepherd there would be suspicious, so they rode on through the night and were back at the frontier at dawn.

"Do we try to cross now?" Jain asked. "We'd be seen."

Airk cringed. "Not much cover here. I'm afraid if we make camp it'll draw attention. Let's go north. We can make a wide circle around that tower."

They turned north and rode across the empty landscape until they saw another tower off in the distance. When they did, they turned back to the east and pushed their tired mounts as hard as they dared. Neither of them had any idea what might happen if they were caught trying to reenter The Holdings. They did not find out. The morning passed uneventfully and by midday they were in sight of the hills that marked the border between Zohershire and their home county Lusshire.

They made camp by a creek where they refilled their water skins and let the horses drink their fill. Airk paced about nervously. They had only the crossbow, a weapon neither of them knew how to use, and they were in a country troubled by Rephaim, goblins, and bandits. "Do you think you can find our way back to the cottage?" he finally asked. "I don't remember the way."

Jain pursed her lips. Traveling through the forest would be tricky. One wrong turn and they would be lost or worse, back in the village where Laird Tomkin's men would surely find them. She shook her head. "We need to find Grima and Eduard."

"Find them you have," a voice from behind her said. She and Airk both jumped as Eduard and Grima walked their horses down from the nearest hill. Eduard was smiling. "You two talk so loudly, we could have found you in the dark."

"How did you know we'd be here?" Jain asked.

"It wasn't that hard," Grima snapped. "You had to go between towers and that meant you would come to these hills. Do you have the crossbow?"

Airk opened his horse's saddlebag and pulled the crossbow out.

"Put it away," Grima hissed. "We can't be seen with it."

"Let's get back to the cottage," Eduard said apologetically. "Before my cousin hurts himself."

Jain and Airk mounted their horses and followed the cousins back through the forest to Coursa's cottage. Dusk was gathering when they arrived, and Jain smiled at the inviting light from the windows. The breeze shifted and she caught a whiff of Coursa's cooking. Her stomach rumbled.

"Do you have it?" Coursa asked as they sat around her table. Another woman, perhaps another one of Coursa's grandchildren, brought them each a bowl of hearty stew and a mug of heartier ale.

Airk had brought the bag in with him and he placed the crossbow and its bolts on the table.

"Maginificent," Coursa said. "Well done, all of you. You will be paid the promised price, but I'm afraid I have troubling news. Laird Tomkin told everyone that it was Hadrid's men who attacked him on your farm, Airk."

"That's ridiculous," Grima objected. "Hadrid would have had Tomkin killed, not embarrassed."

"I wish that had been Tomkin's fate," Coursa said. "I really do. He used it as an excuse to attack Hadrid. Hadrid's dead."

"What?" Grima's voice rose to a grating rasp.

"I'm sorry, Gree," Coursa said.

Jain mouthed, "Gree?" to Airk. He shook his head.

"Who's the laird now?" Eduard asked.

"Tomkin's brother, Edvis." Coursa reached out and put her hand on Grima's shoulder. "You can stay here as long as you need to, Gree."

He nodded, his expression pained. "Thank you, grandmother."

Jain thought about the implications of Tomkin's brother's ascension. There were twenty or so shires in the Holdings. No laird ever controlled more than one at a time. To do so would be to invite the other lairds to gather their full strength and attack to keep the upstart from gaining too much power. Tomkin's family had found a way around that. At least eight of the shires were controlled by Tomkin's brothers, nephews, or cousins. With the fall of Hadrid that number had risen to nine. Perhaps The Holdings would have one king after all, though the prospect of Tomkin's rule seemed too horrible to contemplate.

"So no henries," Airk said.

"Airk!" Jain snapped. "They've got other things to worry about."

"You will be paid what you were promised," Coursa said in a soothing tone. "It's only fair. Jain, there is something you need to know. Tomkin called up the men of his holding when he attacked Hadrid. Your father was with them."

"No!" Jain gasped.

"He is alive," Coursa said quickly. "He was wounded. An arrow took him in the stomach. He had no armor. He rests at home now. He could do with medicine, which I will give you if you wish to take it to him."

"That's too dangerous," Airk said. "Tomkin's men will be looking for us."

"I have to see him, Airk," Jain said. "I'll go alone. The cottage is by the woods. No one will see me."

Coursa nodded approvingly. "I will give you the medicine. When you return, I'll have another job for you."
Chapter 5

Jain left alone in the morning. Airk wanted to come, but Coursa said she had chores for him, Eduard, and Grima to do around the cottage. Jain wanted to do this alone, but she would not have said so to her husband. The way Coursa smiled made Jain suspect that the old woman knew that. Jain rode away alone, dressed in trousers, a tunica, and a hooded cloak and with a sword on her hip. She was the picture of an outlaw woman. That, or a nervous girl shivering in the forest by herself.

She went at a leisurely pace and reached the village early in the afternoon. Jain had looked forward to returning to her village, but now it looked small and dingy. Daniel's cottage was one of the smallest in town and Jain could not help but wonder how she had ever lived there. It felt odd to knock on her own door like a stranger.

Joan opened the door and gasped at the sight of her oldest daughter. "Jain? We thought you had died."

Jain looked around quickly. "Let's talk about it inside."

Daniel lay on the bed. A blood stained bandage covered the right side of his stomach. He looked up as Jain entered and he smiled. "Is that my Jain?" he asked. "Or have I taken a brain fever?"

"It's me, father. I've brought medicine and a poultice." She pulled back the bandage and winced at the odor. "That's festering."

"I've kept a poultice on it," Joan said. "But it had started to fester by the time he got home."

Jain administered the medicine and poultice Coursa had made. The other children were still out at their chores. Jain missed them terribly but she could not face them. It was hard enough to see her parents, to let them know what she had become. While Jain worked, Joan told her how things had gone since her departure. Tomkin had claimed to have been attacked by Hadrid's men. According to Tomkin, the soldiers had killed Jain and Airk and Tomkin had ordered a levee of the men of the shire. Daniel had answered, as was his duty, and been put on the front line of the battle even though he had no shield and no military experience. He had been hit with an arrow at the beginning of the battle and nearly trampled to death by the rest of Tomkin's men.

"What did happen to you?" Daniel asked. "And why do you have a sword?"

Jain told the story of how she had escaped Tomkin's advances, punctuated by the occasional, "You did what?" from Joan. Jain did not tell them about what she had been up to since her escape from the amorous laird and her parents had the sense not to ask.

"We have to tell everyone," Joan said. "Tomkin lied to us."

Daniel shook his head. "It would do not good. He would have us killed."

Joan looked down, her expression grim.

"I married Airk," Jain said, hoping to lighten the mood. "I thought you would have wanted that."

"Where will you go?" Joan asked. "Tomkin has new tenants on Airk's land."

"Not far," Jain replied. "We have some work. Speaking of that." Jain pulled a henry out of the coin purse on her belt and handed it to Joan, "I won't let you go hungry again."

"Jain," Joan said. "Where did you get this?"

"It was my pay. Part of my pay, anyway." Jain flipped the hood of her cloak up. "I should go. Don't tell anyone you saw me."

Jain hugged her mother and kissed her father on the forehead. Then she left them, startled, slightly confused, and very grateful that their daughter was still alive. Jain grappled with her own tangle of emotions. She missed her family and her village. She was excited about the new life stretching out before her. She was also a terrified by that life. Mostly, she was very angry at her former laird. Tomkin had tried to buy her like a loaf of bread, tried to rape her, lied about her fate, and used that lie to start a war in which her father had nearly died. Jain wanted Tomkin to pay for his crimes but she knew that Daniel was right. Tomkin had soldiers, augurs, and half the lairds in The Holdings on his side. Jain might as well swear vengeance against the gods as pursue a vendetta against the laird.

The next little job Coursa had for Jain and Airk went well, as did the one after that. Coursa always sent Jain and Airk out together, even when only one of them was truly needed. Most of the jobs paid only a few sils, but Coursa always came through with payment. As winter settled in more and more of Coursa's grandchildren and grandchildren in law as well as some great great grandchildren came to stay in her large, but increasingly crowded cottage. A few of them complained that if Coursa cleaned out her storage room then there would be more space for everyone. The ones that did that got shuffled together in the smallest room.

Coursa never treated Jain any differently than the others, but Jain did not know the many relatives who now lived in the cottage and they all seemed to know each other. Airk and Jain agreed that they would need a cottage of their own.

Coursa directed them to a clearing not far from where she lived. She advised them not to wander without her or another member of her family guiding them. Members of her extensive clan lived throughout the forest and did not welcome strangers. Airk risked a trip to Zohershire to buy tools. He returned with a carving knife, an axe, a sledge hammer, a hand drill, wedges, a saw, and more. He also brought back a coil of sturdy rope and a box of sturdy, square nails. The nails were a luxury. Daniel had used wooden pegs for everything.

"How much did you spend?" Jain asked, looking over it all in amazement.

"Five henries," Airk said casually. "We'll need all of this when we get our farm, so I didn't see any reason to skimp."

"The nails are too much," Jain said.

Airk grinned. "Yeah, maybe."

Over the next few days he cut down several trees from the edges of the clearing. Jain followed behind with the saw and cut off the narrow ends and all the limbs. She cut the limbs into short pieces and stacked them for firewood. It was a strange feeling, cutting so much timber. In the village a man who so much as cut off a single tree limb without the laird's permission would likely find himself swinging from a rope. Now they could cut all they wanted without worry. Airk still made a point to count the logs carefully and take no more than he needed. The forest provided game and firewood and to abuse it would be to incur the wrath of the gods as well as the more mundane punishments of cold and hunger.

When the logs were all cut and trimmed Airk dug shallow trenches on the north and south sides of the house to set them in. He hewed two of the logs until each had a flat side that would rest in the trench. Then he and Jain rolled the logs into the trenches and made the notches for the logs that went across to fit in. Then those logs were notched and more placed on top of them. It got harder after the first few logs and Airk made a ramp to roll them up. It helped that Airk made windows in two of the walls and a door in the third. That meant that the logs in those sections could were shorter, though notching them together was tedious and time consuming.

After three days of hard labor they were able to sleep inside, sort of. The house had no roof, no shutters for the two windows, and no door. The cold night air came in through the cracks between the logs and they slept on a dirt floor. Coursa sent various grandchildren to help with the caulking, the floors, the roof, the door and shutters, and the chimney. Coursa's descendants were cheerful about the work. They were mostly used to the open road and so much time in Coursa's cottage made them restless. When it was all done they had built a one room cottage with a thatched roof. It was much like the one Jain had grown up in. They had a small bed and a trunk that they placed at the foot of the bed for their clothes.

Airk bought a bow and some arrows in Zoher and he hunted every day that Coursa did not have him and Jain off on errands. Jain and Airk passed the winter nights in front of the fire. They talked about the crops they would grow, the children they would have, and the livestock they would keep. When spring came they both agreed that they would work for Coursa all that year and the following year would buy land from one of Tomkin's enemies and start a yeoman farm.
Chapter 6

When the spring came Coursa sent Eduard to announce that she had an important job. Jain and Airk followed him back to the old woman's cottage where they were seated and served with good food by one of the seemingly endless stream of Coursa's descendants. Jain had tried to learn all the names of the people who passéd through the cottage but there were well over a hundred grandchildren, grandchildren-in-law, great grandchildren, and others like herself who had entered the rogue clan without blood or marriage. Jain was sure she had seen the woman who served them before, but she could put a name to the face and the woman did not talk to her.

"So," Coursa said when they were seated. "I have an especially tricky task for the three of you. You're not the ones I would have chosen for it, but my rougher grandchildren are all off on other errands, mostly mercenary work killing Rephaim. But that's not important now."

"What do you need us to do?" Airk asked with his mouth full. Jain looked at him and shook her head.

Coursa smirked, but quickly suppressed it. "There is an Adaran shepherd traveling in The Holdings with two Adaran knights."

"That should get you some coin," Airk said. "I'm surprised Grima's not here."

Coursa shook her head. "I'm not interested in a bounty. They're looking for something, or they were. As we speak they are making their way back toward Sorena."

"What did they find?" Jain asked.

Coursa shrugged. "Whatever it is, it must be worth a lot, at least to the Adarans."

"And you want it," Airk reasoned, again with his mouth full.

"Swallow your food before you talk," Jain snapped.

Airk gulped. Coursa suppressed her smile. Eduard suddenly found the wall very interesting.

"I want it," Coursa confirmed. "I would rather this happen without bloodshed. That would draw attention I do not need."

"Well that's fine with me," Airk said. "But how do we take something valuable from armed men without killing anyone?"

Coursa smiled. "The woman who took Tomkin's prized sword and dagger without killing him is sitting next to you. And I'm sending Eduard with you." She reached over and pinched her grandson's cheek for a moment before he leaned away. "He's the sneakiest of my grandchildren."

Coursa showed them a map and indicated the road that her sources told her the Adarans were on. They had traveled deep into the northeastern section of the holding and would return through Chatshire, the shire to the east of Zohershire. They would ride through Zohershire and across the frontier into Sorena. Laird Tomasso of Chatshire was Laird Colin's brother and close ally, so the border between their lands was not heavily guarded. It would be a good place for the rogues to intercept and rob them.

A few days later three men in drab clothing made their way along the road from Chatshire into Zohershire. The oldest of the men had grey hair and the squinting eyes of one who had spent too much time reading by candlelight. He had a mace in his belt and a satchel slung over his shoulder. He could have just as easily stowed the satchel in his horse's saddlebags but its contents were too precious for him to let go. The men who rode with him had an axe and a spear, respectively.

A tree branch hung over the road ahead. Beside it lay a young woman. Her horse stood next to her. Between the two of them they blocked the road completely. She groaned and stirred as they approached but did not get up. The Adarans stopped their horses.

"Why don't the heathens take care of their roads?" the knight with the axe asked.

"Or their women," the other replied. "Looks likes she was traveling alone."

"I don't like this," the shepherd said, looking around nervously.

"I'll go see if I can move her," the knight with the axe said. He swung down from the saddle and the shepherd took his horse's reins. The knight approached the girl and knelt. "Can you hear me, lass?" When he got no answer he leaned closer, and suddenly felt a dagger against his throat.

"Don't move," Jain whispered. The knight shut his eyes in disbelief. How could he have been so easily fooled? Jain reached over with her free hand and undid the belt into which his axe was tucked.

"What are you doing?" the shepherd called. He turned at a commotion beside him. The knight with the spear was being pulled backward off his horse by a rugged peasant. The horse startled and bolted into the woods. The shepherd reached for his mace and realized that something was missing. In the commotion he had not noticed Eduard sneaking up on him and cutting strap that held the satchel.

Jain hooked the axe behind the knight's neck so that he was firmly trapped between it and the dagger. She rose to her feet and the knight, having no choice, followed her movement. When they were both standing, she lowered the axe. "Run home, Adaran." The knight backed away, his hands up. "Run!" Jain yelled, and he ran.

Jain turned her attention to the shepherd. He had drawn his mace but now hesitated. The other knight lay on his back with his spear now pointed at his chest. The shepherd looked back at Jain, who sheathed her dagger and took a tow handed grip on the axe. The weapon was heavy but she was strong and capable from a good diet and a lot of sword practice. "It's over, sheep master," Jain said. "One of your men has gone, the other is under my husband's spear, and our man who took your satchel has a crossbow pointed at you. Drop your weapon. We'll have a look through your saddlebags, though I suspect we already have what we're after."

"You would kill me," the shepherd said. "You would sacrifice me to your heathen gods."

"I assure you, we won't harm you," Airk said. "We do not represent the lairds, nor the augurs. And if you don't drop the club, I will kill your friend."

The shepherd sighed and dropped his mace. He dismounted and handed the reins of the horses over to Eduard, who now emerged from the forest with his sword drawn.

"He doesn't have a crossbow," the shepherd said indignantly.

Jain rolled her eyes. "You mean a bandit lied to you?"

The shepherd gave her an angry look, but after a moment he just shook his head and sat down, accepting whatever fate would now come to him. The saddlebags of the two horses revealed clothes, food, and a few coins. Nothing of any real interest. The satchel Eduard had stolen held a leather bound book. The leather was dry and cracked and the pages had turned brownish yellow with age. The wheel emblem of Adara was draw on the cover.

"What is this?" Eduard asked.

"A very old book," the shepherd replied. "I do not know exactly what is in it. I cannot read the writing." When he saw the skeptical look Eduard gave him, he said. "I swear to Adara, I do not know what is in that book. I was ordered to retrieve it. They did not tell me what is was."

Eduard nodded. "Fine. On your way. You can keep your horses. You'll understand if we don't return your weapons."

"What good is that book to you?" the shepherd asked. "Can you even read it?"

Eduard stepped closer and pressed his sword against the shepherd's neck. "That does not concern you. You tried to steal something from these lands. I'm only stealing it back. Now get on your horses, ride away, and never come back."

The shepherd nodded. He and the knight mounted their horses and urged them forward. They would ride home in disgrace, but they would make it home. They could at least be grateful for that.

Eduard, Jain, and Airk brought the book back to Coursa. Course smiled when Eduard placed the book on her table. She looked at a few pages but could not make out any of the text, so she called for Grima. He emerged from one of the bedrooms and came to the table, muttering as he went. The death of his previous laird had left him unemployed and his absence at that battle had led to rumors that he had betrayed that laird. He had no choice but to stay with Coursa. This had darkened his already grim mood.

Grima sat down at the table and looked at the book. "This is High Genasi," he said after looking at a few of the pages. "It's an older form of the language."

"Can you translate it?" Coursa asked.

The muscles around Grima's eyes tensed as if he was in pain. "No. The characters are strangely formed. I can make out a few words, but not enough for it to make any sense."

"You went to the academy," Coursa said as she sat down next to him. "Is there another augur who could translate it?"

Grima let out a raspy sigh and shook his head. "We don't bother about these dead languages."

"Who does?" Jain asked.

"There are translators," Grima replied. "Most of them work at the academy."

"Then we'll hire one," Coursa said.

"No," Grima hissed. "The translators work for the Academy. You can't get near them."

They sat around in silence for a moment before Coursa said, "What about the cripple?"

"The cripple?" Grima asked. "He left as soon as his studies were finished. He hasn't been to the Academy in three or four years."

"But he is trained as a translator," Coursa said. "He's the only one outside the Academy who might be able to translate this." She turned to Jain and Airk. "I have another job for you."
Chapter 7

Joff stopped and took a few deep breaths. He wished that his house was closer to the market. The walk did not bother him but trying to walk with the sack of food he had bought tired him. It was not much farther to his cottage. He looked over his shoulder. Someone stepped behind one of the other cottages on the lane. Joff did not get a good look at the person but it was the second time since he left the market that he had noticed someone following him. "Can I help you?" he asked the world in general.

A woman in the blouse, trousers, and boots of a seasoned traveler stepped out from behind one of the cottages. She was not the one Joff had noticed. That person was the similarly dressed but less graceful man who followed her. They had sheathed swords on their belts.

"Are you the translator?" Airk asked.

Joff put his bag down. "This is encouraging."

"Can we talk in private?" Airk asked.

Joff took them back to his cottage, a small but well furnished affair with padded chairs and blankets hung on the walls to keep out the cold. Joff sat down as soon as they got inside and took a few moments to get his breath. "Would one of you put the kettle on?" he asked.

When Airk did not move, Jain went to the fireplace and put kettle on its hook over the embers. Then she put another log on the fire. "Thank you," Joff said. "So what's the job?"

"We have a book that needs translation," Airk explained. "It's in an old style of High Genasi. We had an augur look at it, but he couldn't read it."

Joff nodded. "I expect you don't want the lairds to know about this."

Airk nodded. "Can you read old High Genasi?"

"Can do that, for the right price." The kettle began to whistle. Jain found three cups and made tea for the three of them. Joff thanked her when she handed him one. "How long is the book?"

"I don't know," Airk replied.

"Can I see it?"

"Um, no," Airk said.

"It's too precious to transport," Jain explained.

Joff raised an eyebrow. "Too precious?"

"Can you travel?" Jain asked. "We know of your . . . ailment."

"I can travel if I don't have to carry anything. But what makes you think I'll go with you? I don't even know you."

Jain knew that Joff was well read and the fact that he had sensed her and Airk following him made her think that he was also savvy. Maybe he knew or knew of someone in Coursa's organization. "Do you know Eduard? Grima? Coursa?"

"I know of Coursa," Joff said. He was silent for a moment as the implications sunk in. "I'll just go and pack a few things then."

Joff did not own a horse but he did know how to ride. Coursa had foreseen this and sent an extra horse with Jain and Airk. They all rode out of town together about an hour later. Airk had wanted to spend the night but Joff insisted that they get going right away.

"We'll barely make the next village by night," Airk said as the town gave way to forest. "The innkeeper will have his way with us, whereever we stay."

Joff urged his horse on, though he fumbled with the reins and adjusted his position in the saddle frequently. "I can't be seen with you. The Academy and the councils are all wound up in each other. I'm lucky I haven't already wound up on an augur's altar. Getting mixed up with Coursa is pushing my luck if ever I have."

They reached the next town well before dusk but Joff insisted that they ride on. When it was too dark to travel any further, they made camp in a space that could generously be called a clearing by the side of the rode. Airk tried for some time to get a fire going but it had rained the day before and everything was still wet. After a while he gave up and sat down to eat the bread and cheese that Jain had gotten out of the saddlebags. Joff picked up the flints.

"You should eat," Airk said. "The night will be colder on an empty stomach."

Joff struck the flints together and dropped one. He picked it up and struck them again, muttering under his breath. The spark took and a very small flame sprang up in the leaves around the pile of sticks. All three of them pushed more leaves in and the fire struggled to life. Joff relaxed and sat back, breathing heavily.

Airk nodded his approval. "Nicely done."

Joff shook his head. "Just took a few more sparks. Now let's have some of that food."

Jain passed him bread and chees. "So you read things for a living?"

Joff had taken a large bite of cheese as she was asking the question. He raised his index finger as he chewed. Jain looked meaningfully at Airk, who looked confused. "Read and translate," Joff said when he had finished chewing. "Not many in The Holdings can read and fewer can read more than one language. Most of those that can are at the Academy, serving the lairds and augurs."

"So why aren't you?" Airk asked. "Why are you living like a peasant in that village when you could be in the City of Books with the nobs?"

The fire reflected in Joff's eyes as it sprang up, catching more of the sticks. "Not many peasants go to the Academy. It's hard for us there. More so for one as crippled as I." He closed his eyes as unpleasant memories ran through his mind. "Just before I graduated, a man, a merchant, came to the Academy with a book. It was a Kestonian book about blacksmithing."

"He wanted a book about metal translated?" Airk asked around a mouthful of bread.

"He was willing to pay a good price, but not as much as the Academy charges. So I did it for him. I made enough to buy that cottage. Now people come to me when they need translation but don't want to pay Academy prices."

Airk scoffed. "I bet the Academy's thrilled."

"They leave me alone as long as I don't translate anything about the gods or the laws, ours or anyone else's."

"How do you know about Coursa?" Jain asked.

Joff regarded her for a moment before he answered. "You have no idea who you're working for, do you? The augurs and even the lairds fear her reach. She has evaded them for decades. They say it was her clan that killed Laird Delaval and there have been quite a few others in high places that people think she might have had killed."

Jain wondered who Delaval was, but she got the general idea. The man in front of her had openly defied the lairds and augurs who ran all of The Holdings, but he would not risk offending Coursa.

It took another two days for them to get back to Coursa. It would normally have taken at least five days but Joff kept them moving at a brisk pace and he insisted that they travel as far as they could each day and make camp rather than stopping in towns to stay at inns. The behavior struck Jain as odd since Joff limped painfully whenever he got off a horse and because he was almost useless when it came time to make camp. He could not gather firewood in any meaningful quantity or do any other physical task . His only redeeming quality as a traveler seemed to be his ability to start a fire nearly anywhere.

"We'll be there tomorrow," Airk said on the third night. "That should make you happy."

Joff looked up from his food. "I'll be happy when I'm home. I'm not a laird or anything, but I usually keep more lawful company."

"We didn't choose this life," Jain said sharply. "It's not my fault the laird tried to deprive me of my maidenhood."

"I'm sure the tale is both tragic and thrilling," Joff replied in a tone that indicated he was neither sad nor thrilled. "But how you became what your are doesn't change what you are."

"Why does it matter?" Jain asked. She did not really care about the translator's problems but she did not want to think about what he had said, about how she was now as much a rogue as the lowest cutpurse. "You're already practically one of us."

"Practically but not legally," Joff replied. He sighed heavily. "I can't evade capture like you can and I can't fight like you can. I can't risk offending the lairds."

"Coursa's an old woman," Jain said. "She's not afraid. What do you think, Airk? Is Coursa deadly with a sword, or can she outrun the lairds' men?" Airk chuckled.

Joff looked at her, shook his head, and lay down. He closed his eyes but he did not sleep for some time.

Coursa welcomed them the next day. All of her grandchildren save Eduard had gone. Even Grima had left on some errand. Eduard brought them food while Joff and Coursa were introduced. "He has some reservations about working for you," Jain said as they all sat down.

"Not to worry," Coursa said. "I understand your concerns, Master Joff. We will keep this discreet and your services will not be forgotten should you ever get into trouble."

Joff's gaze lingered on Coursa. He shook his head suddenly and said, "Let's see the book."

Coursa rose and walked past the fireplace. Then she was holding a cloth wrapped bundle. Jain squinted at Coursa. Jain had watched the old woman and Coursa had not picked anything up. One moment her hands were empty, the next she held the bundle. "Don't do that, dear," Coursa said kindly as she noticed Jain's stare. "It'll give you wrinkles." She set the bundle down in front of Joff and stood next to him.

He looked up at her and she nodded toward the bundle. The cloth wrapping slipped away to reveal the wheel emblem of Adara. He pulled the cloth back over the book and pursed his lips. "Have you any idea of what the consequences would be if we were caught with this?"

Coursa rested a hand on his shoulder. "You are blameless. You were coerced to come here. The book has never been in your possession." She leaned close and whispered in his ear. "You are safe. Now tell me about the book."

Joff shifted uncomfortably. Women did not usually get that close to him without being paid for it. The feeling was all the stranger because he suspected that a dagger would swiftly find his back if he did not cooperate and maybe even if he did. He pushed the cloth aside and opened the book. After examining the first few pages he said, "It is a form of High Genasi that hasn't been used in a few hundred years." He looked Coursa's way, and found her eyes uncomfortably close to his. The intensity of her stare gave him a curious mix of feelings. Fear was prominent among them. He turned his gaze back to the book. "It is a history or a journal. It would take months to do an exact translation. I can read it in a few days and give you the gist of it. I brought a book with me that will help."

Coursa ran her hand across his shoulders. "You should relax, Joff. It's not good for a young man to be so tense."

Joff nodded his agreement. Eduard and Airk looked on without much interest. Jain stared intently at Coursa. The old woman had read Joff as easily as Joff read books. She had used intimidation, the promise of security, and womanly charm to get the desired results. Jain still could not get Airk to chew his food with his mouth closed no matter how much she flirted, pouted, and threatened.

Coursa provided Joff with an empty book to write in and ink and quills to write with. Airk fetched the bag of books Joff had brought with him. Joff found his book on the various forms of High Genasi and set to work. Jain and Airk began to take their leave but Coursa insisted that they stay and enjoy her hospitality. Eduard also stayed. Jain did not understand until the next day when Eduard came to the room she and Airk shared.

"I have to go get firewood," Eduard explained. "Grandmother is out. One of you needs to go sit with the scribe."

"Why?" Jain asked.

Eduard shrugged. "Grandmother's orders. Don't interrupt his work. Get him anything he needs. Just don't leave him alone."

Jain and Airk both went into the main room of the cottage. Coursa kept the place in good order but Jain started tidying up while Airk banked the fire and started shoveling some of the ashes out of the fireplace. Joff drummed his fingers on the table and once Jain caught him looking around. He looked back at the book when he saw her looking at him. In the moment their eyes had made contact Jain had seen the apprehension in his eyes. He was nervous. Jain could not really blame him.

"Is there anything I can get for you, Master Joff?" she asked.

He looked up. "I suppose a bit of privacy would be out of the question."

"Absolutely," Coursa said from behind him. He jumped. They all did. No one had heard her come in. She rested her hand on Joff's left shoulder and leaned down next to his right. "Trust takes time to build, dear."

"I appreciate that," Joff said. "But it's not as if I can run off."

The hand on Joff's shoulder slid over his chest. "Do you dislike the attention?" Coursa asked.

"Well," Joff said. "When you put it that way . . ."

Coursa looked up at Jain and Airk. "Master Joff will work better if we give him some privacy. Master Airk, do go and see what's keeping that grandson of mine. Jain, I could use some help in the garden."

Airk went off into the woods to look for Eduard while Jain and Coursa went to the garden. Turnips, carrots, peas, and all sorts of other vegetables grew in orderly rows behind the cottage. Coursa knelt and began to pull weeds. Jain went to the next row and began to do the same. The only weeds were tiny sprouts amid the thriving vegetables, but Jain pulled them anyway.

"You have quite a way with people," Jain said as they worked.

Coursa smiled at her, but did not say anything.

"You have that scribe terrified."

"Among other things," Coursa replied. She did not look up this time, but Jain could see her smile.

"I noticed that, too." Jain made a conscious effort to keep her tone neutral.

"I'm still a woman," Coursa said. "It's not often I come across a man worth talking to."

"You're also old enough to be his grandmother," Jain said, again keeping her tone neutral.

"Good thing," Coursa said, looking up this time. "If I was in my prime there would be no way he could keep up with me."

The sound of echoing laughter made Joff look up from his work and Airk and Eduard take their attention from the wineskin they had been sharing in the woods. Laughter like that always meant trouble. All three men knew enough about the women they were dealing with not to investigate.

"How do you do it, Coursa?" Jain asked. "The women I've known were all worn out by the time they were thirty. You're . . ."

"Carefule, dear," Coursa said in a friendly but not entirely unthreatening way.

"More than thirty," Jain said after moment's consideration. "But you're still so, so full of life. Most women my age aren't as vibrant as you."

Coursa smiled her broad, wolfish smile. "I'm free. I always have been. It's not children or farm work that age a woman. It's being beholden, to a husband, or an augur, or a laird. You can be married, you can be devout, and you can be a peasant, but you have to be free. Otherwise you give up and your body gives up with you."

"I'm lucky then," Jain said. "Airk is a good man."

Coursa nodded. "He seems very kind. Very gentle. And you seem happy together. If you both can keep your freedom then you will age well together."

Jain wanted to ask if Coursa wished she had someone to age well with, but she decided not to. To ask questions like that might spoil Coursa's disposition and to do that, as far as Jain was concerned, would be like plucking a beautiful bird. It might satisfy her curiosity, but it would destroy the beauty of the thing. "I don't know how happy Airk is," Jain said. "He wants children."

Coursa nodded. "I had wondered about that. You're not taking any herbs to prevent conception."

Jain shook her head. "I'm afraid I might be barren."

"It's possible. Remember dear, it's just as likely to be a problem with Airk as with you. And it may be that you will conceive in time."

It took Joff three days to finish reading the book. He did not attempt a full translation, though he did make notes as he read. Coursa sat with him often. She rubbed his shoulders and talked to him quietly. He chatted with her while he worked, speaking quickly and awkwardly the ways the boys in Jain and Airk's village had done when they fancied a girl.

Airk quietly speculated that Coursa lavished attention on the crippled scribe to ensure his loyalty. A woman like that could have any man she wanted, Airk reasoned. The only reason she would her time with one as pathetic as Joff was to make sure he did what she wanted.

Jain could not deny her husband's logic, but she suspected that there was more at work. After all, Joff was far too afraid of Coursa to attempt to deceive or betray her.

When Joff finally finished translating, Coursa, Jain, Airk, and Eduard sat around the table to hear his findings.

"The text is a journal made by a follower of Adara," Joff began.

"Great," Eduard said with drawn out sarcasm. "A book of shepherd's musings."

"I don't think you understand," Joff said. "The book was written by someone who physically followed Adara, someone who knew her." Everyone leaned forward in their chairs at that. "The author describes going along on Adara's campaign in the western shires. It's mostly an account of the battles they fought and miracles Adara is supposed to have performed."

"Adara died on that campaign," Coursa said. "She was slain by the augurs."

"Yes," Joff replied. "That's what our histories say. But our histories are short on details, like what happened to the augurs and the army they led."

"I always wondered about that," Coursa admitted. "Some say that the witch cursed them with her dying breath. Others say that the augurs returned to their homes and lived out their lives in peace."

Joff stared at her and slowly blinked. "I might believe that second version if I'd never met an augur. Anyway, according to the book, Adara continued to fight even after she was mortally wounded. The book says that some of her followers were apostates and betrayed her to the augurs."

"Apos . . . Apusten . . ." Airk questioned.

"So, anyway," Joff continued. "She raged against them all. They was great slaughter. The author of the book claims to be the only survivor."

Coursa looked at the book as if it had just turned to gold. "This may be the only account of Adara's last days. That would be worth something to the Adarans."

"There's more than that." Joff could not help but smile. For the first and in all probability the last time he was a step ahead of the legendary Coursa. When everyone's expectant looks turned impatient, he continued. "The author claims to have buried Adara. This book gives the location of Adara's tomb. The author claims to have buried her with her sword, along with a few other things."

"The Sword of Adara," Coursa gasped.

"I think I missed something here," Airk said.

"I'm confident of that," Joff replied dismissively. "The Sword of Adara is magical. According to legend the bearer becomes superhuman. Strength, speed . . ."

"Youth," Coursa said.

"Yeah, that too. I made detailed notes about the location of the tomb. You should be able to find it. The way is dangerous. What were the western shires in Adara's time are now the Goblin Hills." They all looked at each other soberly. Many lairds had fought wars to drive the goblins back to the hills and keep them there. But none dared to engage the strange, wild men on their own ground.

Coursa rose from the table and was suddenly holding a small cloth bag. It jingled. All eyes turned to the bag, which she handed to Joff. That much silver would buy him a beautiful wife, or two ugly ones. He held the bag in one hand and dumped a few of the coins out into the other. The bag was full of gold. His eyes bulged for a moment before he had the presence of mind to shove the coins back into the bag. "Thank you."

Coursa stepped closer to him, so close her hip nearly touched his shoulder, and leaned down to directly in his ear. "That sword is priceless. You are the only one who can read that journal. If I send anyone else, even people who can read your notes, then I'm leaving it to chance. I want you to go. There would be a great deal more coin. And my gratitude."

Joff sighed. "I can't fight, I can't cast magic. I can't walk all that fast or all that far and the hill country is too rugged for horses. I would be a liability."

"He's a coward," Jain muttered. The next thing she knew she was on the floor with her jaw hurting and Coursa standing over her. Airk jumped to his feet and Eduard jumped after him. Before Eduard could reach Airk, Coursa grabbed the front of Airk's trousers. Airk made a sound somewhere between a gasp and a moan. Coursa let him go and he crumpled back into his chair.

"He knows his limits and he's smart enough not to endanger those around him," Coursa said calmly as she stood over Jain. "Because of him we're on the verge of finding the greatest treasure since . . . since . . ." she waved her hands in a vague gesture.

"Since forever," Joff said helpfully.

Jain slowly rose. "I'm sorry. I meant no . . ."

"Pack your things for a journey," Coursa said. "Tomorrow the three of you are setting out for the hills, and the tomb."

"Us?" Airk groaned.

"Everyone else is away," Coursa replied. "Fighting the Rephaim, mostly. They attacked again while you were fetching the scribe. Most of my clan have either hired out as mercenaries or are defending my interests."

"I'll help you prepare," Eduard said. Jain walked out, rubbing her jaw, followed by a limping Airk and a smirking Eduard.

"That was quite a show," Joff said when the others had gone. He stood by the fire, warming his hands.

Coursa walked up to him. "Are you suggesting that I would fake my protectiveness and concern for you?"

Joff thought about what had happened to Airk. "Are you going to do something painful to me if I say 'Yes'?"

Coursa inclined her head. "Maybe."

Joff thought for a moment. "Oh, well. Yes, I'm saying you might fake the display."

Coursa smiled broadly. "So clever. So what do I have to say to get you to go?"

"If the Rephaim are attacking then the road home won't be safe. I'll go for the tomb. Though staying here certainly has its appeal."

Coursa reached up and touched his cheek with her fingertips. "Intelligent and charming. Your qualities are multiplying."

Joff stepped back and looked at the fireplace. "Coursa, you know I want the sword to be magic. If the legends are true then it can restore my strength and your youth, maybe forever. The possibilities are enticing. But what if it's just a sword?"

"Then we sell it, along with everything else I get." She stepped closer and he did not step away this time. "Let's not worry about that now. I have a bottle of wine of a good vintage. We have the cottage to ourselves."

"That's a very practical attitude." He looked at her and smiled. Her dark eyes were intelligent, passionate, and fiercely alive. "You have remarkable eyes."

"The better to admire you with, my dear."

Outside, Eduard walked Jain and Airk back to their cabin. "Are you both okay?" Eduard asked.

"I can't believe she did that," Airk said.

"It's not like Joff is a warrior or anything," Jain added. "She didn't have to hit me."

"Yeah," Airk agreed. "And it's just not right to take a man by the turnips."

As they reached the couple's cottage, Eduard made a growling sound. "My grandmother took you in when you had nowhere to go. She gave you a good cut. She found work for you and let you build a house in her woods. What in the names of all the gods are you complaining about?"

"She hit me!" Jain protested.

"She grabbed me by the balls!" Airk added.

Eduard pointed at Jain. "You insulted the man who will likely make us all rich. That was after you failed to talk him into coming on a paying job. You had to threaten him, make him nervous." Jain started to reply, but Eduard had already turned to Airk. "And you stood as if to fight an old woman. What did you think she was going to do, challenge you to arm wrestle? And after all that she's still keeping you both in her service and sending you on the job you almost ruined." Eduard took a deep, calming breath and ran his hand through his hair. "The fact that the two of you don't get down on your knees and plead for grandmother's mercy shows just how ungrateful you both are."

Jain's mouth hung open, her retort lost. Airk did not meet her gaze or Eduard's. "I wouldn't have expected all that from you, Eduard," she finally said.

Eduard swelled a bit at that. "Our clan has prospered for decades under her guidance. Every member of the clan, every single person in our employ is beholden to her to one degree or another. You have to remember that."

"What happens when she can't lead anymore?" Jain asked. "Is there a successor?"

"I don't think that's going to be a problem," Airk said. "She moves faster than an old woman should. She is lovelier than an old woman should be. She is stronger," he put a hand over his crotch as he spoke, "than most men her age. I think it will take more than time to end her."

"Very astute," Eduard said. "I was starting to think you were just a stupid farm boy. My grandmother's secrets are her own. But there are many who speculate that she has had help keeping the effects of her age at bay. Grima is one of the best Augurs in all The Holdings and there's no telling what other help she's picked up over the years."

"How old is she?" Airk asked.

Eduard shook his head. "No one knows. Some say she went by another name before she was Coursa. She has to be at least sixty."

"And it doesn't bother you that she's seducing a man our age as we speak," Jain asked.

Eduard smiled at that, looking every bit the man who had nearly stolen Jain's heart and hand from Airk. "Grandmother once taught me a saying: 'Cherish the vices of your elders. Had they not been tempted, you would not be here.'"

They all shared a laugh at that and the tension broke. Eduard took the time to help them pack for the journey before he went back to his own cottage to pack his things. They would be on horseback for the few days and Jain and Airk could handle packing for that on their own. But they would also spend a large part of the trip hiking through rugged hill country. Bringing too much would mean being weighed down. Bringing too little would mean going hungry or thirsty. They would have to move quickly and be ready to fight goblins at any time. And they would have to protect Joff and carry his share as well as their own. Nothing extra could be brought but nothing necessary could be left behind.

The next morning Joff rose early and went through his bags. The Adaran's journal had to come with them but he was not really sure what else to take. He had never traveled like this before. In the end he decided on a few basics: a change of clothes, a water skin, a bag for food, and . . .

"A sword?" Jain asked. Joff had not heard her walk into the stable. "Are you becoming a fighter now?"

Joff regarded the sword. It was short, no more than three feet from tip to pommel, and had a narrower blade than most. "It's more for show than anything."

"Do you know how to use it?" Eduard asked as he walked by.

"Fencing was required at the Academy." Joff put on the sword belt. "I probably won't cut myself."

"That's very reassuring," Jain said. She proceeded to her own horse and started getting him ready.

When they were all ready to go they led their horses to the front of the cottage. Coursa came out to see them off. She gave each of them a bag of food to tuck into their saddlebags. Jain, Airk, and Eduard climbed onto their horses right away. Joff lingered as his eyes locked with Coursa's.

"It seems a shame to have leave when I've just met you," he said.

"Then be quick," she said with a smile. They stood in silence for a moment while the others looked on. "Take this," Coursa finally said. She took off one of her necklaces, a narrow leather strap with a medallion that had been hidden under her blouse. The medallion was a copper cat.

Joff admired it for a moment before he put it on. "Thank you."

"The cat is a reminder of the rewards of skill and cunning," Coursa said. "It's made from a penny, a reminder that very good things can come out of something that doesn't seem to be worth much."

Joff wrapped her in as tight of a hug as his feeble arms could manage. "I'll wear it, and think of you," he whispered. Then he kissed her and stepped away quickly. He swung up onto his horse and urged it forward.

"What's the rush?" Eduard asked as he struggled to get his horse to keep up. Jain and Airk followed behind him. They cringed at twigs and branches reaching out from the sides of the track that Joff seemed not to notice.

"The sooner we get there," Joff called over his shoulder, "the sooner we get back."

Out of deference to the horses Joff eventually agreed to a more reasonable pace. They traveled north and west, through lands known to Eduard but not to the others. The area they traveled was part of Jain and Airk's home shire but was not close to their village, or to anything else for that matter. It was close to the Goblin Hills.
Chapter 8

"Are we going to run into any patrols?" Joff asked as the forest opened onto a broad plain.

"Normally, yes," Eduard replied. "Now all the soldiers have gone north to deal with the Rephaim. They've been attacking Durnshire. Laird Tammer issued a general summons for help and the other lairds have all answered."

"You mean they've stopped fighting each other?" Jain asked.

"It happens sometimes," Eduard replied. "The whole point of The Holdings is that they help each other when something from outside attacks."

"Glad to know it has a point," Joff said doubtfully. "So why are the Rephaim attacking? Did Tammer do something to them?"

Eduard shook his head. "They kill just to kill. They were attacking the Adarans, but they were stopped but some wheeler named Kedrick, Klondike, something like that."

Airk spat. "Just like the wheelers. Always dumping their problems on us. Can't just leave us to our farms and our gods."

Jain thought about what they had seen in Sorena. The Adarans were organized and well defended. Was it their fault if goblins and Rephaim preferred to attack scattered villages over throwing themselves against walled cities?

That night they camped next to a creek, the only place on the plain where trees grew and firewood could be found. Jain and Airk practiced their sword work with sticks while Eduard shouted directions. After a while Jain smacked Airk's hand by accident. He cursed, shook his hand, and said he would have sit down for a bit.

Joff picked up a stick and took a sparring stance. Jain looked at him doubtfully. Then she swung. The stick caught only air and she felt a tap on her shoulder. Joff shrugged. Jain swung again, this time in a more controlled way. Joff stepped out of the way and tapped her forearm with his stick. They continued to spar for several minutes with consistent results. Joff's breath came quicker and quicker and he finally waved and tossed his stick into the fire. He sat down and closed his eyes.

"How do you do that?" Eduard asked.

Joff spent some time catching his breath before he answered. "There was an instructor at the Academy. He was very old. He taught me to avoid an opponent's swing rather than blocking it. He also taught be to attack lightly and go for the weak spots, rather than just hacking like you do."

Eduard nodded his approval. "You can fight."

"For a few minutes," Joff replied.

"You think the Sword of Adara will heal you," Airk said, still rubbing his hand.

"Legends say it will. Who knows." Joff looked up at the stars. "To walk without getting winded, to handle a sword or a shovel for more than five minutes, just to live a normal life." He shook his head. "And if it can make Coursa young again . . ."

"You really care about her," Jain said.

Joff pulled the cat pendant from under his short and admired it.

"So," Jain said. "You and Coursa are . . ."

"I will not discuss it," Joff said sharply. He lay down and closed his eyes, ending the conversation.

The next day they reached small river village fortified with stone walls, pickets, and towers. Men fished from the river bank while others worked the fields closest to the walls. Beyond those fields men with spears patrolled on horseback. Two of them approached the company and intercepted them before the dirt track Eduard had been following turned into the more recognizable road to the gate.

"What's your business in Dared?" the older of the two horsemen asked.

"Staying the night," Eduard replied. "Stabling our horses. We'll be moving on shortly."

The spearman nodded. "You carry swords."

"Yes," Eduard confirmed. "There are rumors of Rephaim and goblins abroad."

"Alright," the horseman said. "Make trouble and we'll mount your heads on spears. Proper clear?"

"Proper clear," Eduard confirmed.

The dining room of the inn was dark. There were no windows on the first floor, presumably in case the goblins somehow breached the wall. The fireplace burned low in the warm afternoon and there were no candles or lanterns. It was just as well. The grimy feel of the table and the gritty taste of the food did not make any of them want to see anything better.

The innkeeper came over to take their plates and mugs. "Your rooms are upstairs. The horses have already been fed and watered. Will there be anything else?"

"Yes," Eduard said. He laid two henries on the table. "We're going away for a bit. We'll be back."

"You'll be welcome when you come," the innkeeper said, his eyes never leaving the coins.

"The horses will be staying. I'll want them looked after, fed and walked."

"You're going . . ." The innkeeper trailed off and looked around abruptly. He leaned closer and whispered. "You're going into the hills. Why would you do that?"

"Our business is our own," Eduard whispered back. "I want our horses here and healthy when we get back. If they're not then you'll wish they were."

The innkeeper snatched up the coins. "Of course, sir. They'll be taken care of like the laird's own."

The next morning they went to the town market to buy food for the journey. A crowd had gathered around a large stone table in the center of the marketplace. Statues of a snarling figure with a head like a great lizard, wings like a bat, and the body of a very muscular man stood on either side of the table, looking down angrily at the man now chained there. Chains stretched out from his waist, his legs, his arms, his wrists, and his neck. He could no more sit or stand up than he could grow wings and fly away. The statues represented Kortas, God of justice and punishment.

A black robed augura stood over the chained man. Blue and orange paint traced a variety of geometric designs across her face. The bright colors made her dark eyes all the more piercing. She wore her brown hair short, presumably to keep it from getting in the way when she went about duties like this one. Smoke rose from a fire pit behind her where several men went about a variety of tasks, though none of the four visitors could see them very well for the smoke and the crowd.

"This man in convicted and condemned," she said in a voice that echoed across the square. "He is a thief."

"Not one of ours," Eduard whispered in a voice that was meant to be reassuring but that set his companions on edge. A human was about to be sacrificed and all he could worry about was whether they had the same employer?

"Neither god nor laird tolerates such injustice," the augura continued. "Kortas thirsts for the blood and souls of the deceitful, the murderous, the evil." She drew a long knife with a serrated blade and pointed to the crowd with it. "Repent of your wickedness. Bow in loyalty to your lairds, both earthly and divine. Else be warned of what fate awaits. To each crime its own punishment."

A man with a heavy axe stepped forward and stood over the thief. The condemned man whimpered, but did not try to speak. "Let the thieving hand be removed!" the augura cried.

The axe descended and took the man's right hand at the wrist. He wailed and the crowd groaned. The axeman stepped back and a man with a hammer stepped forward. "Let the feet that led this man to mischief be broken!" the augura cried louder than before. The crunch of bone echoed across the square a moment later.

"This is sick," Joff said. His complexion had turned paler than usual and taken on a greenish tint. "Let's go."

"No," Eduard," said firmly. "It would draw too much attention."

"Let the arrogant mind be humbled!" the augura shrieked. The man with the hammer stepped back and a man carrying a pair of furnace tongs stepped forward. In the tongs he held a roughly made crown of steel, glowing red.

"No!" the thief screamed. He struggled, but the iron collar on his neck held him fast. The man with the tongs used them to push the crown onto the thief's head. Screams drowned out the sound of sizzling flesh but nothing contained the smell of burning skin and hair. A few of the people in the front of the crowd were sick from the odor. The augura stood still and calm while the thief screamed and screamed. Her expression was as unmoving as those of the statues and far less interested.

"That's the punishment for rebellion, not thievery," Eduard whispered.

"If he stole from a laird then it's rebellion," Joff explained. "Let's just hope he didn't steal from a temple, otherwise . . ."

The man screams had stopped. "Let the blasphemous tongue be split!" howled the augura. Two of the men pried the thief's mouth open. The augura shoved the knife into his throat. He tried to scream but only gargled and began to choke on his own blood.

"What did he steal?" Eduard asked. The tone made the other three stare. Eduard was wondering what would be worth all this and how to get it.

"The laird's golden idol of Dagda," a woman in front of them said over her shoulder.

"Fool," Eduard muttered. "Might as well kick the laird in the balls and spit on an augur."

The thief choked and gagged on his own blood. The reactions were mostly involuntary now. If he could have talked he would have begged for death. The augura raised her bloody knife high over her head. "Let the offending life end!" The knife descended hard into the thief's stomach near his waist. The augura moved the knife in a sawing motion all the way up to his sternum. Then, with a flick of her knife, she threw his guts out onto the table. She wiped the knife on a cloth and looked at the cloth. Based on the blood markings she loudly announced her predictions of a good harvest and a bad winter.

The crowd broke up after that. The four visitors bought their provisions and left town before anyone had a chance to accuse them of anything. They had all seen the justice of Kortas before, but that did not make it any easier to witness.

Thoughts of his own reckoning with the laird filled Airk's mind. He kept them to himself for fear of weeping if he tried to say anything. Jain wished he would talk, if only to distract her. Some part of her had known what punishment awaited her crimes even as she was committing them, but she had managed to push it aside and get on with life. Now she could not help but wonder how long she would be able to stay ahead of the law.

Eduard wondered if he would ever be captured, and if his grandmother would be able to protect him when it happened.

Simple defeat best described Joff's view of the situation. He could not defy Coursa, but that would not save him if he was caught on this errand or any other that Coursa might have for him in the future. Reading an Adaran text could be punished by having his eyes gouged out. That did not include his failure to turn Coursa's family in or his helping them in their quest for more contraband. The others wondered how long they could stay ahead of the law once someone in power learned of their activities. Joff suffered no such concern. He could not run. The day of discovery would be the day of his death.

A narrow wooden bridge stretched across the river. Two guards stood on the village side. "State your business," one of them said.

"We're going goblin hunting," Eduard said.

"No bounty for that anymore," the guard who had spoken before said. "Not since the laird's son died."

"Call it a bit of sport," Eduard said.

The talkative guard leaned against the rail of the bridge. "You sure you're not running from something?"

"Yeah, we're sure," Eduard replied.

"I think he's lying," the guard who had been quiet said. "I think there's an augur or a laird who's got a grudge against this lot. They're gonna try to make a run through the hills."

Eduard cringed.

"Our horses are at the inn," Joff said. "We paid for them to be stabled while we're in the hills. That fat innkeeper took two henries. That's on top of what he charged for bad ale and a filthy room."

"Well, they're honest about the inn," the guard who spoken first said.

The other one turned and spat into the river. "Let them go. They won't make it through the hills anyway."

Eduard, Jain, and Airk started across the bridge. Joff paused. "Why is there a bridge here, anyway?" he asked the guard who had spat.

The guard looked at him. "Bit thin for an adventurer, aren't you? Never mind it. The lairds had a mind to take the hills for a bit. They sent men into the hills. There was even a settlement."

Joff leaned against the railing and took a breath. "But all that's done. The settlement burned, the soldiers don't go anymore. Why's there still a bridge here?"

The guard shrugged. "No one ever ordered it torn down. Are you alright?"

Joff nodded and took another breath. "Thanks. See you in a few days." The others waited for Joff at the other end of the bridge. When he caught up with them they started up the nearest hill. Eduard led them over the summit and stopped when they were out of sight of the village.

"So where are we going?" Eduard asked.

Joff knelt and removed his pack. He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths before he reached in and pulled out the book.

"Are you sure you're up for this?" Airk asked.

"Find what you need in the book," Eduard said. "The rest of us'll split up your things and carry them for you."

"I'm not a mule," Jain protested.

"Carry his things, or carry him," Eduard snapped. "He's not strong enough."

They split up Joff's food, change of clothes, water skin, and blanket while he leafed through the journal. Airk took a little more than his share. Joff put the book back into the pack and stood.

"There." He pointed to a mountain in the distance. "The battle was there, at the foot of the Horn of Dasmin. The journal gives directions from there. We can find our way."

"That's at least a two day hike," Eduard said. "Are you sure it's the right place?"

"Ummm . . . Reasonably."

Eduard grumbled and shouldered his pack. The four of them set out for the mountain. Every now and then a rabbit perked up at their approach and bounded away. Trees grew thick in the valleys between the hills. Plumes of smoke rose from various spots in the distance, marking the locations of goblin camps and their fires. The goblins built their camps in the valleys which made the camps difficult to find and the goblins' numbers impossible to guess. As Eduard and the others walked they saw tracks and the occasional broken tool but no actual goblins. Jain asked about this.

"The goblins don't like to be seen," Joff replied. "They fight among themselves when they aren't fighting us. They rely on ambush and on isolating individuals and small groups. Their preferred weapons are . . ."

"We don't need their whole history," Eduard interrupted. "We won't see them if they don't want us to. Got it."

Joff looked down. Jain felt sorry for him, but not so sorry that she would encourage him to continue his rambling. They continued on for a few more hours before they came to a valley where many of the trees had been cut down and a circle of scorched rocks marked a firepit. Eduard said it was an abandoned goblin camp.

They pressed on until dusk. Everything was peaceful but for the scurrying of rabbits and the startled flights of birds as they approached. Once a bird flew up from some distance behind them. They made camp in the shelter of a small an apparently uninhabited valley. Jain and Airk went about setting up camp. Joff collapsed into a sitting position and began to draw deep, ragged breaths. Eduard looked around and paced up and down the hill. "Problems?" Joff eventually managed to ask.

"We're being watched and followed," Eduard replied.

Joff took a deep breath and as he exhaled, said, "How can you tell?"

"Animals startle when things approach. Birds and rabbits have been running from us all day. But some things have startled behind us."

"Airk saw some berry bushes down the hill," Jain called from lower on the slope. "We're going to go collect some."

"Don't wander too far," Eduard called back. "And keep your wits about you. There could be goblins about." Jain turned and started down the slope to where Airk already was. Eduard smiled as he watched the sway of her hips. To Joff, he said, "I hate to see her go, but I love to watch her walk away."

Joff smiled. "Yep. That's how I feel about . . ." They looked at each other and silence stretched out between them. Eduard managed a grin. "What a world," Joff said. "Is there anything I can be doing?"

"No," Eduard said firmly. "Rest. We'll need you to do what you can if the goblins attack. Are you going to be fit to travel tomorrow?"

An asthmatic chuckle shook Joff's frail chest. "I wasn't fit to travel this morning. I'll manage tomorrow."

Eduard gave Joff a skeptical look and shook his head. The ate a meal of bread and berries around their small campfire. Eduard said he would take the first watch, followed by Airk, followed by Jain.

"Aren't you forgetting someone?" Jain asked.

"There's no reason I can't keep watch," Joff agreed. "My eyes work . . ."

"No," Eduard said firmly. "He tires easily on a good night's sleep. I don't want him collapsing at noon."

"Look, let's just split the watches evenly," Joff began.

"Go to sleep!" Eduard barked. "You're here to tell us where to find the loot, not to tell me how to run a camp."

"I'll just go to sleep now," Joff said.

Jain watched him roll out his blanket. He had been bullied by her and Airk, by Coursa, and now by Eduard. Joff was quite good with a sword but all an opponent would have to do was fight defensively for a few minutes while he tired out. Jain doubted if he could handle himself in a fistfight. He was too scrawny to manage a decent punch and Jain doubted if he could overpower Coursa, let alone a healthy man like Eduard.

"Mind those eyes," Joff said softly. "I'd hate for Airk to get jealous."

"What would you do if you were healthy? Would you be a farmer, or a warrior, or what?"

Joff lay down on the blanket and pulled it around him. His expression was one of utter exhaustion and his voice was strained. "I don't know. I got sick when I was a boy. I don't know what I'm good at or what I like."

Jain smiled. "You like Coursa."

"I've never met anyone like her. I don't think I admire you much more than you do, though."

"I miss my mother and I always admired her. But Coursa is so free, so strong."

Joff chuckled. "Yeah. How's your jaw?"

"It's fine," Jain replied and she rubbed the bruise.

Joff rolled on his side so that he faced her. "And Airk's balls?"

Jain bit her lower lip. After a moment she said, "The swelling wasn't too bad. He's okay. Anyway, she's strong and free. She seduces whatever men she desires. She has no fear. She has no shame."

"Yeah," Joff agreed. "You have no idea." Crude as the statement was, it was said so lovingly and with such good humor that Jain could not help but laugh with him.
Chapter 9

The night passed quietly. In the morning they had a light breakfast and Eduard sent Jain and Airk ahead to scout the terrain. He told them to keep an eye for any place that the goblins might use to set up an ambush. When they had gone, he turned to Joff.

"I like you, scribe," Eduard said. "But don't ever question me like that. Not in front of those two. Grandmother put them in their place. I don't know if I . . . What are you smiling at?"

"Nothing," Joff said, serious as the grave. He would have had no trouble containing his mirth at the thought of Airk crumpling in front of Coursa. He also could have contained himself as young, strong Eduard expressed doubts about his ability to maintain order as well as his grandmother could. Somehow the two together were just too much.

"Good," Eduard said, his tone skeptical. In a quiet tone, he added. "We are about to get the best loot ever. I don't have any reason not to trust those two, but I can't take the chance of them getting any ideas."

"Oh," Joff said, his seriousness now genuine. He wondered how it was that his already vulnerable station in life kept finding ways to get more precarious.

The day was mild and Jain and Airk managed to scout a relatively even path that did not tax Joff overmuch. Around midday they came to place where a hill rose precipitously to the left of a stretch of flat land. Another hill rose up to the right further on, making for a winding but fairly easy path among the rocks and scrub brush.

"We should go up the hill," Joff said. "If there are goblins about then that road is a good place for an ambush."

"I appreciate your expertise," Eduard said. "But we don't have time for you to gasp your way up the hill."

"We were just up there," Airk said. "We didn't see anything. There is a camp somewhere to the north but it's pretty well out of our way."

Eduard led the way and Airk took up the rear as they walked among the hills. Airk looked over his shoulder frequently and Eduard constantly scanned the areas ahead. Neither seemed worried, but Joff looked up at the hill frequently and nervously. Jain followed his gaze but saw nothing to worry about.

"So where do we go after the mountain?" Eduard asked.

"The book says that Adara walked for two days though she had no blood left in her. It says that when the battle ended she followed the sun."

"What does that mean?" Jain asked.

"She went west," Eduard said. "It was a long battle. Everyone knows that. The sun would have been setting."

"Maybe," Joff replied. "It could also mean other things. There are some landmarks mentioned in the journal. There was a cemetery and a stone temple."

"What if they're not there?" Eduard asked. "It's been a few hundred years."

"Then we go west, and follow the sun."

They walked on until they passed the left hill. A troop of goblins emerged from a creek bottom beside the hill. The goblins wore roughly made leather clothing and went barefoot. Some of them carried stone tipped spears while a few had wooden clubs in their belts. One of them, presumably their chieftain, had a two-handed sword in a sheath on his back. They all had faces painted green and hair so filthy and matted that the color was impossible to determine. The tallest of them was a little shorter than Jain, but their muscles bulged.

The goblins stopped, as startled by the appearance of Eduard and his companions as the companions were at the sight of the goblins. The goblin leader grunted and drew the sword. He flourished it with one hand and growled a challenge.

Eduard raised his hands in a conciliatory gesture. "Peace, friends. We want nothing of you other than pass in peace through these . . ."

An arrow took the goblin leader in the chest. He looked down at it and grimaced, his sharp teeth clenched in a parody of a smile. Then the goblin's spindly legs gave out and he collapsed. The other goblins looked up in the direction from which the arrow had come, as did Eduard, Jain, and Airk. More than twenty additional goblins with bows and arrows in their hands and steel swords and axes in their belts stood halfway up the hill. They wore clothing of a similar, crude cut to the other goblins, but they also wore thick boots and many of them wore steel armor. Some of them wore plate mail, some chain, and some wore hardened leather scales. A lot of the armor ill fitted the wearers. Still, for the goblins to have successfully plundered so much they must have been both vicious and cunning.

The first group of goblins fled. The second turned their attention and their bows to Eduard's company. "Drop your weapons," one of the goblins said. He was big for a goblin, nearly the size of a man of The Holdings. His chainmail fit him as well as if it had been custom-made and he held his bow, a bow of a very fine make, perfectly still at full draw.

Eduard nodded and undid his sword belt. Jain and Airk did the same. One of the goblins lowered his bow and jogged down the hill to them and took their belts. The other goblins followed. The leader set his arrow back in its quiver and unstrung his bow. He tossed the weapon to one of his companions and walked down the hill to stand face to face with Eduard.

"We are only passing through," Eduard said. "We mean you no . . ." The goblin cut him short by knocking him down.

"Tie them up and take them back to camp," the goblin said. "I'm hungry."

The goblins drove them back to the camp with blows and insults. They groped Jain freely and talked among themselves about what they might do with her body before they made a meal of it. She knew that protesting would do no good, so she kept quiet. Airk was ahead of her and did not see what was happening. Jain was grateful for that. It was the one small kindness the situation afforded. Eduard walked along behind Jain. His cheek had swollen badly from the punch but he seemed alright otherwise. All three of them wondered what had happened to Joff, but none of them dared to speak.

The goblin camp consisted of a circle of animal hide tents around a tree with its lower branches cut off. Wood had been gathered for a bonfire nearby and the goblin women and children went about hanging decorations, chanting prayers, and generally preparing for their festival.

"These are finer than we thought to find," the leader said. A cheer went up from the goblins as they saw their warrior herding the evening meal into town. The captives were dragged to the stripped tree and shoved to the ground there. Then the warriors dispersed among the camp.

Eduard sat up next to Jain and Airk struggled to a sitting position on the other side of her. No one was guarding them, but their hands were tied and they were in the middle of the camp. Even if they did somehow manage to get untied, they had no weapons. If they could slip out unnoticed then they would be trying to escape an enemy that knew the terrain much better than they did.

"Any ideas?" Eduard whispered.

"Hope that Joff makes it back to Coursa," Jain replied. She meant it, too. Joff had warned them about the path they took and he had apparently been the only one alert enough to hide before they got caught. He deserved to make it home. Of course the fact that he was alone without food, water, blankets, or the physical strength to walk more than a few miles without getting totally winded made this unlikely.

Beyond the edge of the camp stood the cluster of berry bushes of Airk had discovered the previous night. Joff lay on his side, trying to catch his breath without making any noise. He had counted fourteen goblin warriors in the group that had captured Eduard and the others. Fourteen armed and armored goblins, plus whatever number guarded their camp while those were away plus any goblin women who might be feeling angry when an armed man rushed into their camp and started killing the men. The odds would have been nearly impossible for a healthy man. Joff knew that he might as well commit suicide for all the chance he had of making it out alive or of helping his companions.

If Joff somehow made it back to Coursa without rescuing the others then he would have to tell her that he had abandoned her grandson to be cooked and eaten by savage goblins. He could not do that, not when she had defended his honor and complimented him so thoroughly on his few useful attributes.

Joff slipped his pack off, silently cursing every noise, and hung it and its priceless contents from the berry bush. He sword slipped silently from the scabbard and he took a moment to regard it. It was short and narrow, little more than a dagger. It was not the weapon of a mighty champion. It was the weapon of a man who could not lift a real sword and who would never be able to. Joff slowly rose and crept out from behind the bush.

A goblin in studded leather armor leaned on his spear and stared out from the edge of the camp. This would be the easy part. All Joff had to do was sneak up on the guard and slit his throat. Then he could get into the camp without a fuss and start murdering everything that wore green face paint. Joff took a gentle step, and then another, and a twig snapped under his foot.

"Bugger me and all," Joff cursed loudly as the guard looked his way.

The guard cried out and charged at Joff. Joff sidestepped the guard's spear thrust. The guard had pulled up short so that he was able to quickly recover his balance and defense. Joff cursed his enemy's skill. The guard whirled his spear tip in a motion that would have made Joff dizzy if he had tried to follow it. Instead he focused on the guard's shoulder. When the guard's shoulder advanced for an actual stab, Joff sidestepped and swung his sword. As the spear went past, the sword came down on the guard's thumb so that the spear handle acted like a butcher's block. The guard howled in pain and staggered back. Joff rushed past him, not even bothering to finish the guard off.

More goblins were coming out from the camp. They had not formed ranks and their weapons were not in any way uniform, but there were a lot of them and they were armed.

Eduard and the other captives watched the commotion in camp. Goblin warriors took up their weapons while the women and children disappeared into the trees. They apparently expected no mercy from whoever they thought was attacking.

"It's him," Jain said. "Joff's trying to rescue us."

"He's mad," Airk replied. "A healthy man would have no chance."

"Get ready," Eduard said.

A sword wielding goblin ran past, or tried to. He stumbled and fell on his face when Eduard tripped him. The goblin lost his grip on his sword and it landed next to Eduard. Airk and Jain struggled to their feet as the goblin also picked himself up. Airk ran into the goblin, bowling him over. Jain kicked the goblin hard in the side of the head. He groaned and started to move, so she kicked him again and kept kicking him. After the second kick the goblin curled into a fetal ball with his arms protecting his battered head.

"Leave him," Eduard said. He had managed to cut his bonds with the goblin's fallen sword. He used the sword to cut Airk's ropes and then Jain's.

While his companions were freeing themselves Joff was rushing into the mass of goblins. He ducked the swing of an axe and opened a garish wound on the axe wielder's thigh. Another goblin swung a sword and Joff rushed forward, inside the swing, and delivered a bone crushing punch with the hilt of his own sword. Joff breathed hard and his right arm started to shake from the effort of holding the sword. He dodged the downward chop of an axe and switched the sword to his left hand as he moved, giving him a better angle to hack open the goblin's back. Sweat dripped of Joff's face and soaked his shirt. Another goblin rushed in with a spear but Joff crouched and stuck his sword straight out so that the spear hit nothing and its wielder impaled himself on the sword. Joff wrenched the sword free and rose on shaking legs. He struck a goblin across the face, and suddenly the weight of the sword no longer bothered him. It took a moment for Joff to realize that he was no longer holding the weapon. He had dropped it with his last sword stroke. He tried to think of a way to defend himself without his weapon, but just then his legs gave out and he collapsed into a gasping, sweating mess.

The goblins looked at him and at each other in confusion. This strange warrior had killed or wounded six of them, nearly half their warriors, in the span of a few minutes. Now he lay helpless with no apparent wounds.

Back in the center of camp, Airk found a spear that one of the goblins had left behind. He took it up and flung it at the goblin leader, who had his back turned as he faced the fallen Joss. The spear struck the goblin on the right side of his back just above the waist. The leader turned as the spear clattered to the ground, foiled by his armor.

"Way to go," Eduard said.

Airk shrugged. His sword, along with those of Jain and Eduard, had been left outside the largest of the goblins' tents. Airk and Jain took up their weapons and all three of them charged. The goblins still outnumbered them, but after Joff's performance they backed away from the assault, all but the leader, who issued a guttural growl and advanced to meet Eduard head on. Their swords crashed together and they leaned against their blades, each trying to push the other down. Eduard outweighed the goblin by a good fifty pounds and would have won the contest easily had the goblin not flung his forehead into Eduard's nose. Airk advanced as Eduard staggered back. The goblin leader's arm shot out like a whip and drove the sword point into Airk's shoulder. Airk reeled as blood blossomed on his shirt.

Jain advanced with her sword held high. The goblin leader struck, again with remarkable speed. Jain sidestepped, just as Joff had done when they sparred, and brought her sword across with all the force she could muster. At first she thought she had missed but then she saw the goblin leader's body hit the ground, and then his head hit the ground several feet away.

The other goblins stared. The one nearest to Jain, a swordsman with no armor, looked to his fellows for support. Jain shrieked and drove her sword hard into his chest. He looked at her, his eyes wide. He had blue eyes, like hers. Human eyes. The other goblins fled. Some of them dropped their weapons and some did not.

"Nicely done," Eduard said from behind his hand. Blood ran from his nose and dribbled off his chin.

"Airk!" Jain said, seeing him holding his bleeding shoulder.

"I'm alright. See to Joff."

Jain patted Arik on his good shoulder and kissed him. Airk smiled at her and licked his lips, treasuring the kiss. She walked to where Joff lay. His breath came slow and deep and he sweated profusely. She put her hand on his chest. "By the Dagda!" Jain said. "His heart is beating like mad."

"Wake up Joff," Eduard said. Joff did not stir. Eduard looked around nervously, fearing the return of the goblins. "We'll wait a while. Stay alert, Jain. The goblins may come back. Airk, we need to see to that shoulder. Stay there." Eduard rummaged around in one of the tents and came back with an earthenware jar full of green goo. After they had gotten Airk's shirt off, Eduard began to apply the goo to the wound.

"Why are you putting that on me?" Airk said as his face twisted in disgust.

Eduard smiled. "You should pay more attention to Joff's rambling. He said this stuff keeps wounds from festering. That's why goblins wear it all the time."

The blood pulsing from Airk's wound slowed and thickened where it mingled with the goo. Joff pulled a strip of clean white cloth from the provisions and made a bandage for Airk's wound. With some difficulty, they managed to get another shirt on Airk and Eduard bade him rest.

Dusk had fallen before Joff finally groaned and opened his eyes.

"Are you going to be alright?" Jain asked.

"Fit to compete in the games," Joff gasped.

She took his hand and pulled him to his feet. Though he was taller than her, he seemed to weigh almost nothing. He swayed on his feet for a moment and Jain put his arm around her shoulders and half helped, half carried him back to where Eduard and Airk nursed their respective injuries.

"We have to go," Eduard said. "The goblins will be back."

Eduard urged them to set a brisk pace, but Joff still breathed heavily from the exertion of the battle and Airk grimaced with every step. Eduard's ministrations had stopped the bleeding, but Airk could not raise his left arm without pain and even the movement of walking, the slight, unconscious swing of the arm that most everyone does, troubled him. They managed to put a few hills between them and the goblin camp before Joff began to stumble and they had to stop.

Airk lay down and fell asleep before Joff could so much as check his wound. For his part, Joff's eyes drooped so badly that it probably would not have made a difference. Eduard looked at Jain. She unpacked and prepared a meal for the two of them, as Joff went to sleep without eating. Still, her shoulders slumped and she moved slowly. Eduard felt the tug of exhaustion behind his own eyes. There would be no watch that night. They could only hope that the goblins were too afraid to start any more trouble.

The night passed quietly and in the morning Joff checked Airk's wound. Blood wept from the scabs but not enough to pose a problem. Airk was stiff and sore but insisted that he felt up to traveling. Joff treated the injury with more goblin goo, which also seemed to make the blood still seeping from the wound thicken. Eduard fashioned a sling for Airk's arm so that it would not trouble him so as they walked.

"We need to see to your nose," Joff said to Eduard.

"My nose is fine," Eduard said. "The bleeding's stopped."

"Your nose is the shape of a lightning bolt," Joff replied. "It's broken."

"What can you do about it?"

"I'll just treat it for infection," Joff replied. "Nothing to be done about the crookedness."

Eduard nodded.

"Sit down." Eduard sat and Joff kneeled next to him. "Now close your eyes."

Eduard squinted. "Why do I have to close my eyes?"

"My hands will be close to your eyes," Joff explained. "That sometimes makes people flinch and that can cause all sorts of problems."

Eduard nodded and closed his eyes. Joff grabbed his nose and jerked it. Eduard screamed. "You miserable bastard!"

"Your nose is straight again," Jain said with a smile. "That's good. You can't steal maidens from their future husbands with a crooked nose."

"What?" Airk asked.

"I had designs on Jain before you were married," Eduard explained. He stood up and scrunched his nose. "She chose you. My charm, looks, wealth, and personality were no match for your . . ." Eduard's expression was a parody of curiosity. "What did you choose him for?"

Jain put her hand on Airk's chest and looked up at him lovingly. "He offered to help me carry the buckets from the well, even though he was busy on his own chore."

"Hah!" Joff said. "There you go, Eduard. Spend more time on your manners and less time on your hair and you'll have all the maidens you want."

Eduard reached up and touch his hair. "Let's go. I want to get to the mountain today."
Chapter 10

They reached the great mountain late in the morning. The hills leveled off into a plateau at the base of the mountain. It was flat and barren, save for a few piles of stones weathering in the wind. "Who would fight over this?" Jain asked as she looked around. The ground was rocky and the wind cold. No crops would grow here and the land was too barren for livestock to graze.

"It used to be fertile," Joff replied. "The people who lived here had a town. They built out of timber from the lowlands and stones from the mountains." He pointed to a heap of stones near the center of the plateau. "That didn't get here naturally."

"Is it that temple you talked about?" Eduard asked.

"Could be. Let's go have a look."

The rubble was made up of stones too square to have occurred naturally and the pile took up enough space to accommodate a fair sized village. Joff took out the journal and opened it while Airk sat on a stone and put a hand on his wounded shoulder. Jain uncorked a water skin for him. Eduard paced about and pointedly did not look over Joff's shoulder.

"This isn't the temple," Joff eventually said. "The book says the temple was made of timbers decorated in gold. This must have been a castle or something."

Eduard looked up at the heap of stones. Some walls remained intact but he didn't see anything anyone could live in. "Do you think there's anything valuable here?"

Joff shook his head. "Goblins know the value of gold as well as anyone else. I'm sure this place has been picked clean." He looked at the ruins. "Besides, I don't think I want to go picking around in that."

"What happened to the people?" Jain asked as she squinted into the wind. "Where's the village?"

"No one knows exactly," Joff replied. "The goblins came down from the mountains after the battle. So maybe they destroyed the town. Or maybe the goblins came because the town was destroyed and the Genasians were pushing into the mountains. No one really knows."

"That's fascinating," Eduard said. "Where are we going now?"

Joff looked over a few pages of the book. "Well . . ."

"What?" Joff, Airk, and Jain all said together.

"The journal says that Adara followed the sun. It also said that she went to a temple. The temple was east of the castle."

"So the sun set in the east back then?" Airk asked.

"Not that I'm aware," Joff replied. "Which means that either whoever wrote the journal had no sense of direction or something is wrong. I might have mistranslated or it could be a . . ."

"Can you find the temple?" Eduard asked.

"Yes, I believe so."

"Then we'll go there and see what we can figure out," Eduard said.

The temple sat a few miles east of the fallen castle. The gold decorations had long since been stripped away but the timbers themselves remained. The climate was too cold, dry, and windy to promote rot and the timbers themselves were too sturdy to blow down in the wind.

"What now?" Eduard asked.

Joff looked up. The sun was on its usual path from east to west. Following it would most certainly take them back the way they had come. "Maybe there's some clue inside."

A rusted metal plaque was nailed to the top of the entryway. It was written in the language still common to The Holdings, though in a more archaic script. It said, "As With Day, So With Man." Joff read it to the others. None of them knew what it was supposed to mean. The entrance of the temple led into a large sanctuary. The floor was paved in octagonal stones, now littered with bones and stained brown with long dried blood. A few broken weapons lay amid the debris. Planks that had once supported a roof now warped downward, the weight of ages slowly bending them to the floor. Old ropes hung from many of the planks and some of the ropes had bones tangled up in them.

"So part of the battle happened here," Eduard reasoned.

"No," Joff said. He squatted and picked up a thigh bone that had once belonged to a human, or something like a human. It had teeth marks in it. "This was more recent. I would say within the last ten years." He tossed the bone aside and noticed a broken bowl on the floor. The outside of the bowl had been light brown. The inside was crusted with green. "This was a goblin camp. They thought they could hold this place." Joff picked up the chewed bone again. The teeth marks were square, not pointed as they would have been from goblin teeth, which were ground to points. "They were killed by Rephaim."

Jain, Airk, and Eduard all drew their swords as they remembered when the Rephaim had attacked the village. Joff smiled. "It happened at least five years ago. My guess is that the Rephaim have moved on." The others relaxed and sheathed their swords.

"So do you see anything helpful?" Eduard asked.

"Not yet," Joff replied. He walked toward the front of the sanctuary. The timbers of the wall had been cut so that they made a flat surface there. Pockmarks in the wall indicated places where some kind of decorations, metal, stone, or some other material, had once adorned the wall. Though the decorations were gone the discolorations they left made it possible to get some idea of what they had been. Some figures shaped like mountains and buildings made up the bottom of the motif. A series of circles went across the top of the frame. "I have no idea what this is," Joff said. "Any guesses?"

The other three approached and looked at the picture. "It looks like the path of the sun," Jain said. "Going over the landscape."

Joff nodded. "That's a start. It orients south to north, not east to west."

"Does any of this help us?" Eduard asked.

"Well," Joff said. "If Adara followed the path of this sun then that would mean she went north, not east."

"Did she?" Eduard asked, his tone impatient.

Joff was already flipping through the journal. The entry read that, "Adara followed the sun, into the long night, into darkness she went for good and all to leave us to wallow in misery without her glory." Joff read the passage, or his best translation of it, out loud to the others. When he had finished he said, "Does that sound like anything useful?"

"What's north of here?" Airk asked.

"Nothing to speak of," Joff replied.

"Let's go and have a look in the morning," Eduard said.

They spent the rest of the day exploring the ruins. Doorways led off from the sanctuary on either side of the wood panel. The one on the right led into a long hallway. Doorways led off at regular intervals into cells. The cells, Joff explained, had probably been the residence of the augurs who had once worked at the temple, their guests, and anyone else who had come to stay. The cells would have held little more than a palette and writing desk when they were in use. Now that had all rotted away or been taken.

The end of the hall opened into a set of chambers that had served as kitchen and laundry . Joff could indentify them all by the relics they found, an ancient cutting board in one room, a bit of ancient lye that had eaten through its tub in another. None of it was valuable or useful.

The other door off the sanctuary led into another hallway. This hallway had cells, but they were smaller and Joff could not immediately divine their purpose. There were also bits of tiled roof that remained intact. "The builders really wanted to keep all this dry," Joff observed.

"Lot of good it did them," Eduard replied.

"Might have," Joff replied. "The temple was in use for about three hundred years."

They reached the end of the hallway. In the room ahead books lay heaped on the floor. Joff rushed in and knelt by a pile of rotting literature. There were books, scrolls, and random parchments. Once it had all been stacked on shelves, but the shelves had rotted or bent and broken under the strain. The roof here was almost complete.

"This is worth a bloody fortune," Joff said. He sifted through the pile. "'Meditations on the Sun God.' I've read about this book."

His companions looked at each other in confusion. "You read a book about another book?" Airk asked.

"This is a classic," Joff explained. "Other books reference it. There were copies at the sun temples."

"Those were all destroyed," Eduard said.

"Yes," Joff said, a little desperately. "And their libraries were lost. So this is important. The Academy would pay a fortune for this." He rummaged through the pile, shook his head, and moved on to another pile. He unrolled a scroll and gasped. "This is Rettop's 'Incantations for the Favors of Lesser Spirits.'" He began to rummage again.

Eduard put his hand on Joff's shoulder. When Joff did not respond, Eduard grabbed him and forcefully turned him so that their eyes met. "Joff, listen. We will come back for the books, and scrolls, and whatever else is worth having. Grandmother will be thrilled. But we're here for the Sword of Adara. I'm sure there's more in that tomb, too. Can you imagine what the Adarans will pay for her body? But we're here for the sword. Nothing less, nothing more. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Joff said. "Please let go of me."

Eduard let him go. "Is there anything here that we can use?" Eduard asked.

Joff looked around. "Maybe. I'll have to go through the books. There might be some maps or something like that."

"Right," Eduard said. "Keep working. I'm going to go and see if they left us any middens."

"There'll be a side door off the kitchen," Joff said without looking up. "The outhouse probably rotted away a long time ago, but if it's still around then that's where it'll be."

"Thanks," Eduard said. "While you're working, separate out the valuables. It'll save us some time when we come back." Joff waved without looking up. Eduard paused. "Grandmother did well with you. There are a lot of the wrong sort in this business. There are muscle men with no brains. There are clever men with no loyalty. You're different. You could have knifed us all to death that first night. Don't deny it. You could have told me this was all trash and come back on your own for the loot."

Joff looked up. "What do you want me to say?"

Eduard smiled and walked out. Jain and Airk looked at each other, then at Joff. But Joff was already back at work, sorting the trash from the treasure and looking for a map, a scroll, a guide, anything that would help them find their way in the desolate countryside. "I'm sure there's something useful the two of you could be doing," Joff said without looking up. "Somewhere else."

Joff's search yielded an ancient map of the area and a few old books about Harkness, the city that had once occupied the space between the castle and the ruins. Jain and Airk had built a bonfire in the ruined sanctuary and it was by the light of that fire that Joff went over his findings.

"The cemetery was there," he said as he pointed to a spot on the map, which they had unrolled on the floor. "The journal mentioned that Adara passed it on her way here. We walked right by it, so we must be on the right track.."

"I didn't see anything," Airk said.

"They used wooden markers," Joff explained. "They would have rotted by now, or got used for firewood. The city was built with the four most important structures oriented on the four directions. That way if it was attacked . . ."

"Are you going somewhere with this?" Eduard interrupted.

"Right," Joff said. "The castle is to the west, this temple is east. South is where the guild hall was; all the merchants and craftsmen worked out of it. North is where the town council building was. I haven't had time to really read the books I found, but they're in our language and it all seems straightforward."

"So you think Adara went to the town council to die," Jain said. "That sounds weird."

"I don't understand either," Joff admitted. "But it's the only thing that makes sense. She came here, then she followed the sun and went into darkness. If she followed the sun on that panel then she would have gone to the town council."

"Was there anything else important here?" Airk asked. "Like a laird's house or something?"

"The great families were all either merchants or in the town council or both," Joff replied. "Their houses would have been by those places."

"Right, then," Eduard said. "Let's get some rest. Tomorrow we'll find the town council."

Before they left in the morning Joff went out the kitchen doorway to see if the outhouses were still there. They were not. He turned and pissed on the wall, figuring that the gods would not even notice this indignity when the temple had already suffered so many. While he was relieving himself he looked around and noticed a protrusion, like someone might build for a doorway, on the wall outside of where the library would be. But the wall there had been smooth. Maybe the library had once had a doorway of its own, one that had been closed up. Joff could easily imagine augurs sneaking outside to study in the open air rather than in the little cells off the hall by the library. Eduard called from inside the temple and Joff finished his business and went inside.

They backtracked to where Joff reckoned the crossroads would be. Now that they knew that there had been a town they were able to pick out little details that they had missed. The foundation of a building was visible in the dirt here, a depression in the earth too closely resembled the shape of a house there. And not all of the stones jutting up from the landscape were actually stone. There were pieces of bone, wood, metal, and bits of broken pottery. When they looked, they saw the signs of the old city everywhere. But none of it really meant anything. Goblins had roamed the area for centuries, would be among the ruins now if there was anything left to take. It was a miracle that they had not used the temple library for kindling.

At length they reached a stone building. The roof was gone but the walls remained standing. The doors and windows had long since disappeared but the holes in the walls remained, as if they expected new doors and windows to arrive just any time now. The building sprawled over an area the size of a small farm. It had never been more than one story high, which perhaps explained why it had not collapsed, the weight of more ambitious architecture having not pressed down on the supporting structures like they would have with the castle.

The grand entrance led into an auditorium full of collapsing wooden benches. The benches all faced an elevated stage where, no doubt, council members had once given stirring speeches about the fate of Harkness. With the roof was gone the acoustics were ruined. A few birds took off from the rafters as the company entered, their loud calls of protest echoing off the marble floor.

"This'll go faster if we split up," Airk said.

"No," Eduard replied firmly. "We don't know what else might be here."

They found the offices of the councilors. Some of the paperwork of running a city remained. Joff walked through office after office. He found payroll records, tax records, treaties, and declarations, along with a lot of paperwork too mouldered to read. He was ready to tell Eduard they should go back to the temple, or investigate the guild house, when he picked up a piece of parchment with the words "General Evacuation Order" hastily scrawled across the top. Below was sloppily written and badly spelled order for Harkness to be emptied in light of the threat posed by the convergence of two armies.

"They knew that the battle was coming and they did not want to be caught in the middle," Joff explained to the others. "They ordered everyone to leave the city, taking only what they could carry. They feared what Adara or the augurs would do when they took the city."

"But they weren't Adarans," Jain said. "The augurs would have had no reason to pillage this city."

"You've seen what augurs do," Joff snapped. "They sacrifice people to make wheat grow better. If there was a whole army of them coming my way I'd run, too."

"So what happened?" Eduard asked.

"This means that after the battle Adara and whatever followers she still had would have marched into an empty city. She probably came here looking for help for her wounds."

"So much for her healing powers," Airk said.

"The journal said she expended her powers in the battle," Joff replied.

"What happened to the people of Harkness?" Jain asked. "There must have been hundreds, maybe thousands of people living here. Why didn't they come back?"

Joff thought about it. "Well," he finally said. "Adara's army came out of the mountains and so did the goblins and they arrived at about the same time. There's a good chance that the goblins were fleeing ahead of the Adarans. The people of Harkness fled into a countryside crawling with goblins."

"That's horrible," Jain said.

"It's history," Eduard replied. "And it doesn't help us. Where is the damned tomb?"

"It has to be close to the city and probably in it," Joff said. "If Adara came here wounded, looking for help then it stands to reason that this is where she died."

"So where do we look?" Eduard asked. "Our food is starting to run out and it's just a matter of time before the goblins or the Rephaim notice that we're here or the Adarans send their own group."

"It could be here," Joff replied. "We'll finish looking around this building. The next place is the guild hall. That might be a better place to look than here since it's where she would have expected to find an apothecary to heal her."

They continued the search and eventually found a cellar. The stairs or ladder or whatever had collapsed. The only way in was to jump down six feet. The only way out was to either pull oneself up or be pulled by someone above. It was obvious to Joff that he had to go down alone and be pulled up by the others. He was sure it was so obvious that no one could deny it.

"Absolutely not," Eduard replied when Joff explained. "If you get hurt we won't be able to get you back up. Even if you don't get hurt, Airk's arm is still injured, so I'd have to pull you back up myself. I'll go down and see if there's anything of interest."

"You won't know what to look for," Joff replied. "Even if there's a sign that says 'Adara's Tomb' you wouldn't be able to read it. It has to be me that goes."

Eduard gritted his teeth. "Fine. Jain, you go first. Airk and I will stay up here." He pointed at Joff. "The instant you see trouble, you get back up here."

Jain took a lantern from her pack and left the rest on the floor. She put a hand on the hilt of her sword and leapt down into the pit, to land on her feet with her knees perfectly bent. Joff followed, and fell hard on his backside. Jain helped him back to his feet. Joff lit the lantern. They stood in an arched hallway made of stone. At both ends the hall opened into larger chambers. Jain told Airk and Eduard about it and Eduard reluctantly consented to let them explore the chambers.

The first chamber contained bits of broken glass and pottery as well as the ruins of some old shelves. Joff reasoned that it had been used to store wine and food and that the goblins or whoever had long since emptied it. Stacks and stacks of scrolls, ledgers, and loose papers filled the other chamber. Joff knelt and began to sort through them.

"You never answered Eduard," Jain said. "You could have killed us all at any time, but you let us bully you. Why would you allow that?"

Joff paused in his work. "If I had killed you, I would have made an enemy of Coursa. I would have been dead inside of a week."

"You could have killed Coursa," Jain persisted.

"Hah!" Joff said. "The Holdings are littered with the unmarked graves of people who thought they could kill Coursa. It would have been simpler to turn the sword on myself."

Jain shook her head. She walked around where Joff knelt among the papers to stand in front of him. "You went into that goblin camp. You couldn't have known that we'd get free in time. You are strange. But you're no coward."

Joff tossed aside the papers he had been looking at, a record of payment for some work a mason had done on the town hall. "It was Coursa." He sighed. "It was always Coursa." He slowly rose to his feet. "Look at me. What am I? I can't do anything for more than five minutes without collapsing into a gasping, sweating heap."

"What's that go to do with Coursa?"

Joff ran his hands through his hair. "What is Coursa? She's elderly, she's alone. She should be feeble and afraid. She should shiver every time something . . ."

"What are you getting at?" Jain asked.

"She's been a bit of a hero of mine since I learned of her." He smiled and chuckled. "I didn't think she was real. Most people don't. When you showed up I . . ." Joff shook his head. The lantern light cast weird shadows that distorted his features, but it looked to Jain like he was going to cry. "And then I met her. I had pictured a shriveled hag. Coursa is anything but."

"You fell in love with her," Jain said. "She's old enough to be your grandmother, but you fell in love with her."

Joff grinned at that. "She doesn't seem to mind terribly."

Jain nearly dropped the lantern. "Have you no shame?"

"By the gods, no," Joff replied jovially, the banter having apparently improved his mood. A moment later he turned serious. "Most men look for pedigree in a wife, or good housekeeping skills, or the ability to bear strong children. My interests are not so provincial."

"Not so what?"

"Not so simple, not so basic. I want a wife I can have a conversation with, make plans with."

"You need a wife as smart as you," Jain said. "A partner."

Joff nodded.

"Joff, what if it's an act? What if she's just playing at it?"

"Then she's very convincing," Joff replied, but his heart wasn't in the joke. "It had occurred to me that she might be less than serious in her interest. I am a cripple and she has any number of healthier men at her disposal. If that is the case then I will take my pay and go in peace." He smiled, and it was the saddest thing Jain had ever seen. "Her regard for me has been for my talent, not for money. That is more than one such as myself could normally hope for."

Jain put her hand to her mouth. It was too much. It was too sad. Joff was a good man, afflicted through no fault of his own and denied any hope of a normal life. Any love, even false love, meant so much to him that he would risk his life in a forsaken wilderness.

"Oh, come on," Joff said gently. "You're healthy and you've got a nice fellow. Don't weep for the elderly and the crippled." He smiled brightly. "We can manage better than you think."

"Have you found anything?" Eduard called.

"Just a room full of old records," Joff called back. "Nothing relevant to our cause."

"I'm surprised you're not explaining them then," Eduard called back, laughter in his voice. "Come on. Let's push on."

The town council building yielded nothing else of interest so the company set out for the guild house. The building was stone supported with sturdy, vaulted arches. It had once had fine carvings worked into the stone but those had been worn down by wind and time.

The building was divided into showrooms in the front and storerooms in the back and offices above. The showrooms were completely empty, as were the storerooms. The offices had also been picked clean. Airk found a cellar. The stone steps remained intact, so they were all able to go down to search the rooms. The first room they entered was empty and they were about to leave when Eduard told them to wait.

"Something has disturbed the dust. Recently. Draw swords.

They drew their weapons. The lantern light revealed boot prints in the dust leading away from the room. They followed these to the most distant room. Something moved in the shadows.

"Show yourself," Eduard shouted.

"Please," a man whimpered. He fell to his knees in front of them. His white tunic was filthy but the Adaran wheel was just visible on the front.

"A shepherd?" Eduard said. "What's a shepherd doing here?"

"Same thing we are," Joff said as he sheathed his sword. "Where's the rest of your group, shepherd? Where's your camp?"

The shepherd shook his head and wept.

"Lovely," Airk said. "What do we do with him?"

"We need to talk to him," Joff answered. "He's Adaran. He might know something about the tomb."

"Right," Eduard said. He sheathed his sword. "Let's get him up and out of this pit. Maybe he'll have something to say after a crust of bread."

They led the shepherd out of the cellar and into one of the showrooms. The room had large windows that might have once held wooden shutters that opened to light the displays. Whatever had been in the windows was now gone but the windows still provided light while the walls gave some protection from the wind.

"I know him," Jain said when they got the shepherd into the better lit room. "He's the shepherd we nicked the book off of."

Airk and Eduard both looked at the shepherd. "So he is," Eduard said. "You're not looking so well, shepherd. What happened to you?"

The shepherd stared at Eduard as if he could not understand the question. "Let him have a mouthful and something to drink," Jain said.

Airk pulled a bread roll and a water skin from his pack. The shepherd took them eagerly. He downed the roll so fast that Eduard and the others were surprised he did not choke. The contents of the water skin also disappeared with remarkable speed.

"Easy!" Airk protested. "There's no streams close."

"Right," Eduard said. "What happened to you?"

The shepherd made some strange noises in his throat and stuttered.

"Where are you from?" Eduard asked.

"Sorena," the shepherd finally replied.

"You don't talk like a Sorenian," Joff said. "Do I detect a Perimain accent?"

"I set out from Sorena," the shepherd clarified. "I'm from the Church of Adara, which is in Perimain. I read the book you stole before you took it."

"You swore you didn't know what it was!" Jain said indignantly.

Eduard raised his hand. "That doesn't matter. You read the book, shepherd, so you knew where to look for the tomb of Adara."

The shepherd nodded. "I set out with five knights and three crossbowmen. We thought that with nine of us we would be strong enough to scare bandits but not attract attention. We stayed to the mountains, away from The Holdings."

"Where are the others?" Eduard asked.

The shepherd shut his eyes tight and sobbed. "Dead. They came in the night. I had heard stories of them, of how they fought on with mortal wounds, but I never believed it."

"You ran," Eduard said. "And the men with you were slaughtered."

The shepherd nodded as he continued to weep. "Adara forgive me."

"Why did you come here?" Eduard asked. "Why not just go home?"

"I was closer to here than Sorena," the shepherd explained. "I thought if I could find the tomb them I might be saved by some miracle."

"How long have you been here?" Joff asked.

"Days," the shepherd replied through his tears. "I don't know how many. I went to the temple, but the carnage there terrified me and I knew that Adara was buried west of it anyway. I could not find the tomb. It's not here."

"Wonderful," Airk said.

"How do we know he's not lying?" Jain asked.

"Because if he was, he'd have the sword or whatever artifact he came for," Joff said. "He crawled into that hole because he had nowhere left to go. It's all been in vain."

Eduard shook his head. "It's not so bad. We have those writings you found in the temple and we still have the journal. Better, we have information about where the tomb isn't, and that's probably worth something to someone." He looked out the window at the fading light. "We'll camp in here tonight. Tomorrow we can go home. Shepherd, we'll leave you at the frontier. I'm sorry for your troubles."

That night Airk took the first watch. He usually avoided looking in the direction of the campfire when he was on watch duty. The light made it harder for his eyes to adjust to the surrounding darkness. Tonight, though, he found his gaze drawn the shepherd. The ragged man muttered to himself incessantly, babbling in his Perimain accent that made him hard to understand at the best of times. The others looked up from where they lay to stare disapprovingly at the babbling shepherd, occasionally going as far as to send a harsh, "Sh!" in his direction. Eventually the shepherd quieted and they all fell asleep.

Airk watched the sleeping shepherd for a while. It was never a good bet to trust an Adaran, the augurs always said. Better to avoid them, or kill them if you had to. But for some reason Eduard insisted on treating this one like a lost friend. Airk shook his head. He set another log on the fire, now burning in the center of the stone floor, and walked to the window. The moon and stars were out, illuminating a lot of nothing. Airk missed his farm, missed the certainty of a life lived according to crop schedules. He would go back to it soon, he promised himself. The rewards waiting at the end of this journey would make him a yeoman again, maybe even a freeholder, a man who owned his own land and was beholden to no laird, not even for taxes.

The shepherd's eyes opened. He saw Airk staring out the window, his back turned to the camp. He also saw Eduard, fast asleep with his weapons on the blanket next to him. The shepherd turned so that he had both of his hands under him and crept on all fours to where Eduard lay. The dagger hilt shone in the firelight and the shepherd reached for it. Eduard lay on the sword belt that held the dagger, so the shepherd had to use his free hand to keep the belt in place while he drew the dagger. It had a long, slender blade. The weapon was better suited to assassination and lock picking than to parrying sword blow. The shepherd did not need to block any swords. He took a backhand grip on the dagger, raised it high above his head, hesitated, and then drove it down as hard as he could. The slender blade found the space between the ribs and slid into its victim's heart with ease.

Eduard woke with a start as the shepherd collapsed next to him. "What the . . .?"

"What happened?" Airk asked as he ran back to the fire.

"He took my dagger," Eduard said. "He killed himself."

Joff and Jain were both up now and they both came to where the shepherd lay. Joff ripped the tunic open around the dagger. "It's in his heart. There's nothing we can do."

"Why?" Eduard asked. "We were going to take you home."

"I left my men," the shepherd rasped. "I lost the secrets of Adara to pagans. I failed . . ." He gurgled and lay still.

Eduard, Jain, Airk, and Joff sat or stood around, staring quietly. Jain put her head against Airk's shoulder and he wrapped her in a tight hug. Joff and Eduard both looked at them wistfully. Eduard wished that it was him comforting Jain while Joff wished that Coursa was there.

"What was his name?" Joff eventually asked.

None of them knew it.

"I suppose we should bury him," Jain said.

"Adarans don't bury their dead," Joff replied. "They burn them."

"We can't make much of a pyre," Airk said. "Not unless we want to drag him all the way back into the hills."

Jain shook her head. "It doesn't seem right, burning a body. They're supposed to go into the earth to sleep, like the sun at the end of the day."

Eduard looked around at the showroom. "I suppose this place will do for a tomb."

"What did you say?" Joff asked.

"Well, it's not ideal," Eduard began.

"Not you," Joff interrupted. "Jain, what did you say?"

"Just that dead people are supposed to be buried." She looked around as if she expected to be in trouble.

"You said they should go into the ground like the sun at the end of the day," Joff said. "'As With Day, So With Man.' Adara didn't follow the sun away from the temple, she was buried there."

"You said there was cemetery nearby," Eduard said. "Do you think she's there?"

Joff shook his head. "I don't think so. Adara was important. Important people get tombs. The church didn't start cremating people until a century after she died. Harkness was a decent sized town. They had a cemetery set aside for common folk. They must have had a place where all the tombs were."

Eduard rubbed his eyes. "Joff, we've been wandering around here for two days and we haven't found any tombs."

Joff remembered the doorway at the back of the temple, the one he had thought once went into the library. "Yes," he said slowly. "We did. I just didn't recognize it. It's back at the temple."

Eduard sighed. "We'll go back to the temple in the morning. In the afternoon, we start the trip home. I'm tired of following riddles."

They found the doorway Joff had spoken of the next morning. The arch had been sealed up with mismatched stones. The wind had worn away most of the mortar between the stones and now little more than inertia held them in place. Eduard pulled the larger stones out with both hands while Airk used his good hand to take the smaller ones. When the last stone was moved they looked at a stone stairway that descended into darkness.

"This looks . . ." Jain began, searching for the right word.

"Ominous," Joff said helpfully. "This is where the tombs are. Adara's followers must have sealed it after they interred her."

"Why would they do that?" Airk asked.

Joff's face twisted in thought. He started to take off his pack.

"Never mind it," Eduard said irritably. "It was bricked up. Now it's not."

"Isn't this necromancy?" Jain asked.

"No," Eduard replied in a tone like knives dragging on stone. "Necromancy is when you have unholy magical contact. We're just stealing from them. That's called grave robbing."

"Much more noble vocation," Joff said reassuringly.

They lit Jain's lantern and walked down the steps. A tunnel wound away from the steps. There were shelves carved into the walls on which skeletons lay with whatever effects those who survived them had seen fit to leave. As the company walked they found that for every four of these there was an archway leading into a large chamber. The first of these belonged to a heap of bones laid out on a stone table. He wore rings on the fingers of both hands and a sword had been reverently placed on his chest. Joff waved Jain closer with the light so that he could read the inscription at the base of the table. "Cosmus, King of Harkness, Husband to . . ."

"Not Adara," Eduard said.

"Right," Joff said.

They followed the catacombs for some distance. Joff did not turn into any of the other side chambers until they reached a place where there were no more people on shelves. He entered the next large chamber and found that it belonged to, "King Armand, beloved but gone too quickly." The next chamber belonged to another king. Harkness had gone through kings at a faster rate than the builders expected and nobles not quickly enough.

After a few more false starts they entered a tomb and found the words, "Adara, Empress of All Men," engraved at the base of a table. A smallish skeleton lay on the table with a sheathed sword placed reverently on her chest. There we other objects about the chamber: cups and a plate, a moldering book, and other odds and ends.

"This is it," Joff said. "The Great Heretic, and her sword."

"Among other things," Airk observed.

"We're here for the sword," Eduard reminded. He looked at Joff. "You should draw it. It'll make the trip home easier."

"He could take a watch shift," Jain muttered. Airk chortled. Eduard looked at both of them disapprovingly.

Joff grabbed the scabbard with his left hand and lifted the sword. It was almost as light as the blade he carried. He put his right hand on the hilt. The pommel dug into his flesh. The handle was too short for him. Of course it was. It was made for a woman born in another time. The image of Coursa, beautiful, aging Coursa, filled his mind.

"Thank you, but no. If the sword is magic then we must know how to control it before we try to use it."

The others looked at him quizzically.

Joff handed the sword to Eduard, who took it and held it as if it was a poisonous snake. "It could do anything," Joff explained. "It could make me younger, it could heal Airk's arm and have no power left for me. It could do literally anything. I won't try to use it until I've researched it."

Eduard gave Joff a knowing look. "Your diligence is wise, master scribe. We'll bring it home and study it. Now let's go. This place is creepy."

Joff bundled up the journal and the sword while the others replaced the stones blocking the entrance to the tomb. They had no mortar but they managed to wedge the stones together into a reasonably solid barrier. They all stood there for a few minutes after the work was finished. The discovery of the lost tomb and its legendary artifact warranted more acclaim than they would get, especially out here in the wilderness. But they knew, and that was enough for the moment.
Chapter 11

The trip back to the village of Dared went quickly now that they knew the way. The goblins did not give them any more trouble, whether because of what they had done to the tribe that had waylaid them or out of simple luck none of them could say for sure. The same two guards guarded the bridge as had done when the company left. Joff stopped to talk the surly one.

"Don't you ever get bored of this, master watchman?"

The guard regarded him for a moment before answering. "I don't have to push a plough and I don't starve if the harvest is bad. That's better than I can say for my brother."

"Well, I hope everyone appreciates you." Joff looked back across the bridge. "There's nasty things in those hills."

"Nice of you to say," the guard replied. He leaned forward conspiratorially "Listen here. The laird's nephew is in town. They're taking lads for the war."

"Can we move on?" Eduard asked.

Joff shook his head at Eduard and turned back to the guard. "To fight the Rephaim?"

The guard nodded ominously.

"No offense, but why don't they take you? You have weapons, you have training. Any farmer with a hayfork can watch this bridge."

"That's the thing, farmers with forks are a sil a score." The guard leaned in closer until his rancid breath warmed Joff's face. "They use them, see. The Rephaim charge even after they're hurt. So the lairds, they keep the arrows flying while the peasants fight."

"So they're just there to slow down the Rephaim?"

The guard nodded ominously. "The Rephaim bleed out and die from the arrows. The farmers slow them down enough that they don't get to the archers."

"Well," Joff said, reaching into the pouch on his belt. "If that's not worth a sil, I don't know what is." He handed the coin to the guard, who thanked him and wished him well.

"What was that about?" Eduard asked irritably.

Joff explained that the laird's nephew was conscripting men.

"We should skip the town," Airk said. "If they find us, we might be taken."

"They won't take me," Jain said. She nodded to Joff. "You, either."

"A woman and a cripple alone," Eduard said. "That's asking for trouble. Besides, if what Joff says is true then his condition won't save him." Eduard looked at the walled village and thought. To bypass the village would mean crossing the grasslands on foot. Their food would not hold out. "We have to go into town. We need our horses and we need food. We'll go straight to the inn and stay there until the soldiers move on."

They reached the inn without any trouble. The innkeeper jumped as they walked in. "What do you want?" he whispered.

"A place to sleep and our horses back," Eduard replied. "I would have thought that was obvious."

The innkeeper winced. "Keep your voice down. Come away from that door! The soldiers were here. They took two of my customers. They took my boy."

"I'm sorry for that," Eduard said. "I'm sure you'll see him again before the snow. We need a room and a meal. Can you do that?"

The innkeeper made a worried face. "You should stay in the stables. The hayloft is warm and dry."

"What?" Airk asked. "What are we, vagrants?

"No, no. When they came, they searched the rooms. They didn't look in the stable. You'll be safe there. I'll bring food. The best I have. Just go and go quietly." He looked at the swords in Eduard's belt, then to the one Airk carried, then to the ones carried by Jain and Joff. "I want no more trouble here than I've already had."

The hayloft was warm and dry, as promised. The innkeeper brought blankets and a meal that was edible, if not particularly good. After they finished their meal the four companions sat around in silence for a while before Eduard declared that it was time to go to sleep. They all lay down on in the straw, the most comfortable bed any of them had seen in days. Joff fell asleep almost before he had finished lying down. Eduard was snoring soon after and Airk felt Jain's breathing grow slow and shallow as she lay huddled against him.

Airk had barely slept during their time in the hills. Watch duty had disrupted his natural rhythms and even when Eduard or Jain had taken the watch, Airk had not slept. He had lain awake, his hand clutching the hilt of his sword, listening to the noises of the wild and longing for his bed back on the farm, where the only noises were the mice that lived in the thatched roof.

Sleep continued to evade Airk. He knew that the soldiers probably would not come in the night but he listened for them anyway. Was this to be his lot in life? Would he spend his days running from danger into danger? He and Jain would soon have enough to buy a farm, but Laird Tomkin's reach was growing and even his enemies would be sympathetic to his grievance against Airk and Jain. They would have to go to Sorena. There the Adarans would watch them, wait for the slightest sign that they had not embraced Adara, and then burn them at the stake.

Airk gently disentangled himself from Jain and got up. There was no light in the hay loft but he remembered where Eduard and Joff had lay down and he was able to walk past without disturbing them. Airk crept down the ladder and out into the night.

In the morning the others woke to find Airk brushing their horses. "The laird's men are leaving," he said as he worked. "We can leave in a few hours."

"Did you sleep, love?" Jain asked, concern heavy in her voice.

Airk shook his head. "It doesn't matter. We'll be home soon and I'll get my rest then."

Joff looked at Eduard. Eduard shrugged.

They set out later that day and began the trip across the plain. That night, around the campfire, they talked about their favorite foods. Eduard looked forward to the hearty stew Coursa always made. "It's funny," he said as he looked woefully at a piece of stale bread. "I don't usually like that stew. But when I've been away for a while, I love it."

"Does your mother make it, too?" Jain asked.

"She died a long time ago," Eduard said. "She and dad tried to have an honest go of it as farmers. Dad didn't want anything to do with Grandmother. We had a bad harvest. Everyone was hungry. So I shot a deer for the meat."

"And got caught," Jain said.

Eduard nodded. "Grandmother sent my uncle and my cousin to break me out, else I would have hung. Mother died that winter."

"I'm sorry," Jain said.

"What about you?" Eduard asked. "Is there some dish you're missing?"

Jain nodded. "My mother used to make a mash in the spring. It was nothing special, just a bit of everything we had left before the first harvest. Bread, and vegetables, and a bit of meat all mixed up together. It wasn't good exactly, it just tasted like . . . home."

"Did you ever have that mash?" Eduard asked, looking at Airk.

Airk had not been paying attention, so Eduard had to repeat the question. "No. We always ate pretty well." Airk stared into the fire as he spoke.

"What about you, master scribe," Eduard said to Joff. "What feeds a mind like yours?"

"I usually eat well enough," Joff said. "I think I could do with a bit of Coursa's stew."

"Is there nothing you made at home, or that your mother made for you that you long for?" Jain asked.

Joff shook his head. "I usually just ate bread, or went to the inn down the lane. It was nothing special. I went to the Academy when I was just a boy. I been home only once since, and not for long."

"Why not?" Jain asked. "Surely it would do you good not to have to maintain a household, and I imagine your family could use some coin."

"I send them coin when I can," Joff replied. "I went home to live with them when I was done at the Academy. They did not understand the work I did and I could not help them with theirs. It was awkward." He smiled sadly. "There's nothing to bore a farmer like a discussion of historical texts."

"Joff," Jain said softly. She wanted to say something comfort him. But how could she? Was there no end to this man's suffering?

"It's been nice at Coursa's," Joff continued. He started to say something else, but he shook his head.

Jain looked at Eduard. The question of Joff's future in Coursa's clan, and in her home hung between them. Eduard looked at the fire, avoiding her gaze. He had no answers. Only Coursa knew what she planned and she had apparently not seen fit to share it with her grandson.

The next day they came across a group of a few dozen men carrying axes, hayforks, scythes, and other tools. The men were all quite dirty and several wore bandages. Some of the men leaned on each other or on the tools they carried for support. All of their eyes drooped with exhaustion.

"Bandits?" Jain asked.

"Very unsuccessful ones if they are," Eduard replied. "What news?" he called to the nearest of the travelers, a man with a hayfork in his hand and bloodstained bandage around his head.

"We're coming back from the front. The Rephaim are defeated."

"We saw men being taken from Dared for the war not two days ago," Eduard replied.

The man with the hayfork spat. "That's where we're going. We traveled with the lads from Luis. We must have missed the others. Well, they'll have a walk, but not near so bad as we've seen."

"Congratulations on your victory, brave man," Eduard said. "The Rephaim have long terrorized the land."

"Victory," the man scoffed. "Slaughter is what it was. Rephaim slaughtered us. Archers slaughtered Rephaim. His lairdship sat on his pony and watched. Didn't do a thing."

"Be quiet," one of the other men said. "We don't need trouble."

"We heard nothing," Joff said. "May fortune smile on you, for now and forever."

"Well, it's good that's over," Jain said as they rode away. "Tomkin could have done something about the Rephaim sooner instead of fighting other lairds."

Eduard favored her with a grim smile. "The day a laird thinks of his people before his own gain will be the day when all men are equal. You might as well ask the sun to shine blue as ask a laird to consider his peasants."

They reached Coursa's cottage the following afternoon. The place always lay in some amount of shadow because of its position among the trees. In the heat of the afternoon it looked liked a pleasantly cool spot to rest.

"If that's not an inviting sight, I don't know what is," Joff said. He smiled and his tone was cheerful, but Jain saw the apprehension in his eyes. The cottage door opened and Grima walked out with his weird, shuffling walk. "That is not quite so inviting," Joff said just loudly enough for his companions to hear.

"Did you get it?" Grima asked urgently.

"Nice to see you too, cousin," Eduard replied. He jumped down from his horse and patted one of the saddlebags. "Tell grandmother that we got it and we'll bring it in as soon as we've dealt with the horses."

As they fed and brushed their horses Jain noticed that Joff's eyes did not focus on what he was doing and his breath came a little harder than usual. She rested a comforting hand on his shoulder. Their eyes met. "It'll be okay," Jain said. Joff nodded and turned back to his horse.

In the cottage they found steaming bowls of stew and cups of tea waiting for them. Coursa stood by the fireplace in a dress that hugged her waste a little more tightly than most of her outfits did. Her hair was also different. Instead of the usual headscarf and ponytail, she had her hair loose, cascading in luxurious silver and white curls over her shoulders, down her back, and even across her face. For the second time Jain felt jealous of Coursa. Hair like that of any color would be enough to make an Adaran shepherd forget his vows, Jain thought.

Eduard set the sword in the middle of the table and stepped back, looking very pleased with himself. Coursa's gaze did not falter from Joff. Neither of them moved. Jain understood then that the wait had been as agonizing for Coursa as for Joff. How could she know if he truly loved her or if he had only feigned affection out of fear? Neither of them had needed to worry. Joff took a faltering step toward her and she answered with a much more certain one. They met and embraced.

"I think we, uh, should let them have some time to themselves," Airk observed.

Grima scoffed, Eduard blushed, and Jain grinned. The four of them filed out of the cottage. When they got outside, Jain took Airk's hand. "Maybe we could have some time to ourselves, husband." She led him off in the direction of their cottage.

Eduard and Grima stood outside Coursa's cottage for a few awkward moments. "We're her grandchildren," Eduard finally complained. "How come we're the only ones . . ."

"Don't you have some firewood to collect or something?" Grima hissed.

Eduard shook his head as he walked into the woods. His life seemed split between evading death and collecting firewood, between intense terror and agonizing boredom. He decided then that he would find himself a wife, a good strong lass who could mind a farm on her own while he was off on his errands. Then he could come home to "time to themselves." He smirked at the thought.

Later, inside the cottage, Coursa looked at the sword and then back at Joff. "You didn't draw it."

"No." Joff tried to look her in the eye and could not. His gaze settled on her chin.

She stepped forward so that their eyes met, her huge, brown eyes to his squinty blue ones. "Why?"

Joff cleared his throat. "I am familiar with some of the legends about the sword, but I do not have a detailed . . ."

"Why didn't you draw the sword, Joff?" Her tone betrayed no irritation, or at least not very much of it.

"I didn't know what it would do. It could have made me younger or it . . ."

"Joff."

Joff sighed. Dealing with Coursa and her relatives meant dealing with his intellectual equals. This had its good points. It also meant that he could not easily mince words or bury the facts in an avalanche of irrelevance. "I don't know how the sword works, Coursa. If I used it to heal myself, then there might be no power left to make you young again. Or it might only help me."

She took another step closer and put her hand on his chest. His heart, his disease weakened heart, beat rapidly. "That's part of what it's for, Joff: to make you well."

He sniffed. "I know."

She looked intently into his eyes and shook her head slightly. "So?"

A tear streaked down his cheek. "Coursa, I don't want to get well just to watch you die. That would be . . ."

"Life," she said firmly, but kindly. "Everyone ages and everyone dies, Joff. It's only the very lucky ones who get to die of old age."

"Coursa," Joff said, tears now streaming down his cheeks. She hugged him tightly. After a few moments, Joff composed himself. "Let me study the sword. When we know what it will do we can make a more informed decision."

Coursa let him go and looked into his eyes again. She nodded and walked to the window. Opening one of the shutters, she called, "Grima. We need you dear."

Grima came shuffling in a few minutes later, followed by Eduard with an armload of firewood. A satchel hung from a peg on the wall. Grima pulled a book out of the satchel and set it on the table, next to the sword. The book had an Adaran wheel over a drawn sword painted on the cover. "It's in High Perimain," Grima explained. "I can't read it. Can you, master scribe?"

"I can do that," Joff said. "It would be easier if I had a translation book here. It's been a while since I've worked with the Perimain language."

Grima rolled his eyes and shuffled back to the satchel. He pulled another book out and set it on the table on top of the first. Joff opened it. "This will do."

Coursa put her arm around Joff and rested her head on his shoulder. "Take all the time you need, love." After a moment she turned to Eduard and said. "Please go and fetch Jain and Airk for dinner. I'll warm up our stew."

Over dinner Eduard told Coursa about their quest, about the books and other artifacts they had found, and about Joff's magnificent, if somewhat brief performance against the goblins. Joff looked at his stew at this last part. Coursa looked at him. "I didn't know you were such a warrior," she said approvingly.

"Yeah," he replied nervously. "Me neither. I've read quite a bit about fencing and it was required at the Academy. Truthfully, I think a lot of it is the sword. I use a smaller blade than most. It wouldn't do much against armor, but it's light and quick."

"Especially when you wield it," Jain said. "You should have been there, Coursa. Those goblins were fierce but Joff cut through them like they were nothing. They're probably singing songs about him in those hills now."

Joff's cheeks and ears flared red.

"It was a reckless thing for you to do," Coursa said. "You couldn't have known they would get free."

Joff managed a smile, but did not say anything.

Jain set her spoon down as she thought. "I called you a coward once, Joff. I'm sorry for that."

Joff waved dismissively. "Killing startled goblins isn't that big of a deal. You're the one who took their leader. And in impressive fashion, I might add. And speaking of impressive, Grima, where did you get those books?"

Grima sighed. "They belong to the Academy library. If you could be done with them before they are missed, I would be most grateful."

"So you have a bit of the rogue in you, too," Joff said.

Grima looked across the table at him. "I am a grandson of Coursa. How could I be otherwise?"

Jain raised her cup. "To the house of Coursa. May it see all the houses of the lairds buried." They all drank cheerfully to that.

Joff began the next day, sitting at the table to work out a translation of the book about Adara's sword. The text was the work of a devout Adaran and included long, rambling tracts about her greatness and glory that Joff found neither relevant nor very interesting. He had no particular religion of his own so he was neither inspired nor offended by the accounts of Adara's glorious triumphs over the followers of the old gods. He did wish her followers had been succinct about it, though.

Grima hovered about the table, looking over Joff's shoulder and asking questions that Joff answered as monosyllabically as possible. After about an hour of this Coursa asked Grima to go and bless her garden and to bless the home of Jain and Airk. That bought Joff about a few hours of time to work uninterrupted.

Coursa set a cup of hot tea down beside him as he scribbled. "How's it going?"

"Ask your grandson," Joff replied with a grin. "It's going well. The writer is a little too religious. I can't tell where the sword draws it power." He turned back a few pages. "Here it says that Adara crafted the blade to channel her will, which indicates that the sword draws its strength from the one who wields it. That would explain why Adara could not heal herself. It would also make the sword useless to us unless we could find someone willing to give his life to take a few years off yours." He held up the index finger of his right hand while he flipped through the book with his left. "But, here it says that when Adara died, the sword glowed, so perhaps it absorbed something from her, or maybe it has a power . . ."

"Joff," Coursa said with a patient smile.

He put his hand down.

"I know you'll find the answer if it's there to be found. If it's not . . ." she put her arm around him, "Are things so bad as they are?"

He looked into her eyes. "It's hard to imagine they could be better my . . ."

She smiled. "Say it."

"My love."

Coursa went to help Jain in the garden that Grima was now blessing. Joff could only sigh when the cottage door opened and Grima entered. "What have you found?" Grima asked urgently as he scuttled up to the table.

Airk walked in after Grima and gave Joff a sympathetic look. "Master augur, might I have a moment of your time?"

"What is it?" Grima asked irritably.

"It's a private matter," Airk replied. "Let's discuss it outside."

"Fine," Grima whined. "Just be quick about it."

Joff shook his head as they went back out of the cottage. Airk could not hope to buy him more than a few minutes and it would probably cost Airk a lifelong grudge from Grima.

Airk led Grima to the side of the cottage. There wasn't much there, just a few stumps where trees had been cut down to prevent their limbs from brushing the roof.

"What is it?" Grima asked, following on Airk's heels. "What do you . . ." He trailed off as Airk turned suddenly and drove his sword into Grima's stomach.

Joff heard a thump from outside. He looked at the door. It was probably nothing. Just . . . something about the size of a man falling against the side of the cottage with the force of a person dropping dead. Joff shook his head. The adventure in the Goblin Hills had obviously made him jumpy. He had just taken up his quill when he heard a groan from outside. "Bugger." Joff's sword belt hung on one of the wall pegs. He wished Coursa was there, but she and Jain were at Jain's cottage, working in the garden. The thought made Joff a little ashamed. Even someone in his condition should not long for the protection of an old woman.

Joff walked outside and around the cottage just in time to see Airk raise his sword for the killing blow. "No!" Joff yelled, but the sword was already descending. Airk had meant to decapitate Grima, but the sword only went about halfway through the Augur's neck.

"What's all this?" Joff asked in horror.

"Nothing to concern yourself with," Airk said calmly. "Now please don't make this difficult. I'll take no joy in it, I promise."

Joff drew his sword. Airk raised his. "How long can you stand like that?" Airk asked. "A minute? Two?"

"Bugger my life," Joff muttered, mostly to himself. Airk was not as skilled with a sword as Joff but Airk knew his man and how to exploit his weaknesses. Joff came on in a rush. He was careful to maintain his balance as he attacked high then low, left then right, straight then curving, hack then stab. Each attack was different, predictable only in their unpredictability.

Airk blocked, sidestepped, and backpedaled in the face of the dazzling display of swordsmanship before him. To counterattack would be suicide. He could only hope to keep his blade between himself and the whirling murder that was Joff's sword, and that was all he tried to do.

Joff's arm shook and sweat soaked his clothes and ran into his eyes. Eventually, one of his attacks would get through. Airk could not keep it up forever. But Joff did not have eventually, he had about a minute. If only Airk would attack, Joff knew that he could give Airk a wound that would make the most hardened warrior weep. But Airk did not attack. Joff switched the sword to his left hand and came in with an uncharacteristic lunge, hoping to catch Airk off guard. Airk side stepped and struck hard, knocking the sword from Joff's hand. Joff collapsed, helpless and hopeless. He wanted to ask Airk why, but his breath came too quickly for him to talk.

"Airk?" Jain said. She was flushed from running. "I heard the noise. What's going on?"

Airk frowned. "I'm sorry. I made a deal with Tomkin, or rather with his nephew. It was when we were in Dared. I will be forgiven and given back my old farm, rent and tax free, for turning in Coursa's band. Tomkin is very keen to be rid of Coursa and he's willing to let bygones be bygones."

"Why didn't you tell me about this?" Jain asked as she approached. "Don't I get a say in what we do, who we betray?"

"No," Airk replied soberly. "You see, my love, you are one of Coursa's band. Don't make it difficult. Tomkin already knows where this place is. He'll be here with soldiers soon. He wanted the augur dead so there would be no magic against him. You he wanted alive. I'm sorry Jain, but we can't have a decent home and you have given me no children. This is my chance at a better life."

Jain reached for her sword, and realized that it was back at her cottage.

"Don't make it difficult," Airk repeated. "I'll tell him you attacked me. That will save you whatever he had in mind to do before he killed you."

Jain cast about desperately. Even if she did have her sword, Airk was too strong for her. She wished Eduard was there, or Coursa. She could not believe that Airk would betray her, Airk who had been her husband for nearly a year. The world spun and Jain felt terribly sick. She put her hand on her stomach and looked down, preparing to vomit. A glint caught her eye. Joff's sword lay on the ground. A light, swift weapon, he had said.

Airk raised his sword and Jain dove. Airk's sword fell, and struck the wall of the cottage with enough force to leave an inch deep notch in one of the logs. Jain took up Joff's sword and leapt into Airk, sword leading. The short sword seemed light as a cooking knife and impossibly fast. It went into the right side of Airk's abdomen and came out the left side of his back in one fluid stab.

Airk's mouth hung open in shock. He looked down at the sword hilt that now stapled his reddening shirt to his body. A thought occurred to him them and he told it to Jain. "I had just healed from where the goblin stabbed me." He fell to a sitting position and dropped his sword.

"Why, Airk?" Jain asked. "Did I not love you enough? Did we not make a fine enough home together?"

He looked up at her. "Family farm."

"This is about your stupid farm?" Jain asked. She kicked him but he did not seem to feel it. "You never had a farm, idiot. It was always Tomkin's. He just let you use it so you could feed him."

Joff pulled himself to a sitting position and took a few deep breaths. Jain turned her attention away from her dying husband and offered Joff her hand. When he took it she pulled, and nearly pulled him into her. It was easy to forget how little he weighed. Joff put his other hand on her shoulder to balance himself and took a few more breaths before he stood on his own.

"Are you going to be alright?" Jain asked. "You look . . . awful."

Joff put a hand on his fluttering heart. "I'll be alright."

Jain looked down at Airk. "I wouldn't have thought he could beat you."

"He knew I could only fight a few minutes. He waited for me to tire. He didn't even try to hit me."

Jain managed a smile. "I guess we know all your tricks." She wiped her eyes, and Joff was gone.

"Not all my tricks," a voice from behind her said.

Jain turned and saw Joff sitting on one of the stumps. "How did you . . . ?"

Joff rose. "I read a lot. I learn tricks here and there. I got half my swordplay from books."

Coursa walked around the corner of the house. "Grima!" she screamed. She rushed to her fallen grandson and began to weep. Joff knelt next to her and hugged her as tightly as he could. She leaned against him, nearly bowling him over, and sob shook her entire body. It was the first time Jain had ever seen Coursa look the part of the frail old woman.

"Airk betrayed us," Jain said. "He said Tomkin is coming with soldiers."

Coursa stilled her sobs and wiped her eyes. She disentangled herself from Joff and snapped to her feet with such speed that Jain took a step back. The frailty of a moment before had gone. Coursa's face was still wet, but her eyes were clear, bright, and fierce. Jain would have sworn that Coursa looked a few years younger than she had an hour before, when they worked in the garden together. Coursa's left hand snaked out and grabbed the front of Jain's shirt. A knife appeared in Coursa's right hand. She did not draw the weapon. It was just there, pressed against Jains throat. "Did you know about this?"

The knife was so close against Jain's neck that she found it difficult to speak. "No," she managed. "He tried to kill me, too."

"She's telling the truth," Joff said. He took another deep breath and wiped the sweat of his forehead. "Airk nearly killed me. Jain took up my sword."

Coursa looked over her shoulder at Joff. "How do I know you weren't in on it?"

Every muscle in his face tensed at the accusation.

"I'm sorry," Coursa said as she let Jain go and lowered her suddenly empty hand. She turned to Joff and wrapped him in a hug. "I'm so sorry I doubted you."

Jain rubbed her neck where the knife had been. It may have been wrong for Coursa to doubt Joff, but he was not the one she had just threatened. Jain decided that she had better get over it. Carrying a grudge against Coursa would be unproductive at best and suicidal at worst.

When the embrace ended, Coursa turned to Jain and took her hand. "I am so sorry, dear. It is terrible that Airk did this, and that his actions put my suspicion on you. I hope you'll understand and forgive me."

Jain's awe of Coursa grew, to whatever extent that was possible. "If you were a man I'd marry you."

Joff cleared his throat. "That is possibly the most awkward thing you could have said just then." They all laughed at that. Joff reached down and grabbed the hilt of his sword. He tugged. Airk groaned. "Bugger," said Joff.

"He's alive?" Jain gasped as her eyes began to tear up. Coursa put her arm around Jain and nodded to Joff. He took a two hand grip on the sword and heaved. Airk groaned louder and Jain began to openly weep.

"By all the gods, Joff do something," Coursa said sharply.

Joff gestured helplessly. He looked around and saw Airk's sword lying on the ground. The weapon weighed too much for Joff to handle it in battle but he might be able to lift it for one good swing. He picked the sword up with both hands. "I'm going to come straight down on his neck. Quick and clean. He won't feel it." Joff raised the sword and held it aloft for an awkward moment before the blade descended. It struck Airk just above his eyebrows and cleaved off most of the top of his head. Jain shrieked.

"Come on, dear," Coursa said soothingly to Jain. "We'll go inside. We haven't much time. Joff, would you find Eduard and let him know what's going on?"

Joff took a deep, steadying breath. "I can do that. I'll be along with him in a minute." When the two women had gone in, Joff looked at the bodies. "If that's not a mess, I don't know what is." He tried to pull his sword out of Airk and the blade still would not budge, no matter how he heaved and twisted. The other sword was still there. Joff could cut the sword out of Airk. Somehow, the thought of butchering his former companion did not appeal to Joff. He wandered off in search of Eduard.

Eduard was fishing in a creek a short walk from the cottage. The birdsong and babbling of the water had kept him from hearing the sounds of the fight. Joff filled him in on their situation. "Sorry I missed it," Eduard said when Joff had finished. He wrapped up his fishing line and set the pole on his shoulder and picked up the basket with the two fish he had caught. "We better get back."

They returned to the cottage and Joff showed Airk where the fight had happened. Eduard set his basket and fishing pole down and knelt next to Airk's body. "I always knew Jain had spunk. Pity about this. She thought he would make her happy. He seemed so loyal and all."

"He was loyal," Joff replied, taking a seat on a stump. "He was just more loyal to the laird than to her."

Eduard tugged on the sword, which still did not move. "That's stupid. Tomkin was going to take his land."

"He was a peasant," Joff replied, his tone speaking volumes about his views of the peasantry. "Scholars and rogues know who their friends are. Peasants just serve lairds."

Eduard looked up and half smiled at that. "Thank all the gods I'm a rogue then." He turned back to the sword. "I can't get this out. There's a fillet knife in the basket. Grab it for me."

Joff found the knife and handed it to Eduard. Eduard started sawing through the flesh of the corpse to loosen its hold on the blade. "I would have been a terrible butcher," Eduard said. He continued to saw on Airk's stomach and put his free hand on the sword, tugging as he cut. The sword eventually came free. Eduard cleaned it on Airk's trouser leg and returned to Joff.

They went into Coursa's cottage. Jain sat at the table, sobbing into Coursa's shoulder. "Joff, please put the kettle on. Eduard, I need you to go to Jason and see if he has any crossbows finished. If he does then bring them all here, along with the original. If not, just bring the original."

Joff picked up the kettle and swished it around to make sure it had water. He hung it by the fireplace and went to get the tea and mugs. Eduard strapped on his sword belt and left without a word.

Joff stood by the fire, wondering if he should sit down. He wanted to ask Coursa what they were going to do but Jain was still bawling on Coursa's shoulder. "I guess I'll go and dig a grave for Airk and Grima then," Joff finally muttered.

"You'll do no such thing," Coursa replied sharply. "I'll have one of my grandchildren do it. We have to get ready when the soldiers come. That is to say: we have to be elsewhere." Coursa gently pushed Jain away. "Dear, I know you're terribly upset, but we need your help now." Jain nodded and wiped her eyes.

"Where will we go?" Joff asked.

"Not far," Coursa answered firmly.

Someone rapped at the door and Coursa rose to answer it. She opened the door to find a portly, red haired young on the threshold. "Mum," he said respectfully.

"Dudley?" Jain said in disbelief. He was the son of one of the farmers from Jain's village, one of the men she had been grateful that Daniel had not affianced her to. Now he did not seem so bad.

He smiled at her. "Hello. Good to see you." His expression grew serious when he noticed the redness around her eyes. "What's wrong?"

"Another time," Coursa said. "What news have you?"

"Dad said to tell you the he saw the laird and some of his men riding around the plain. He said it looks like they mean to pass the village without stopping."

Coursa nodded. "Trying to sneak up on us. Well, there's a good lad. Now off you go." She handed him a sil and he took his leave. "My grandson," she explained. "A little too fond of honeyed cake, but a very good boy." She walked into the store and rummaged around. Jain looked questioningly at Joff, who only shrugged. When Coursa gave a man her heart, her secrets did not come with it.

Coursa came back a moment later carrying a pot with symmetrical holes in the lid and a chain coming out of the top. Jain was about to ask what it was when Joff said, "Why do we need an incense burner?"

"If a laird is paying this house a visit then I want it to smell nice. Close the shutters, would you?"

Jain and Joff closed the shutters while Coursa hung the incense burner over the fireplace. "Time to go," Coursa said.

When they got outside Eduard was coming down the track with a crossbow in each hand and a pouch of bolts in his belt. "Jason only had one made," Eduard said. One of the crossbows was significantly larger than the other and this was the one Eduard handed to Coursa. "He made some improvements. That stirrup is so you can set it on the ground and put your foot in to draw back the string rather than putting it against your chest."

Coursa smiled with familial pride. "Such a clever boy." She looked around. "Come on."

They walked behind the nearest stand of trees to a spot where they could see the front of the cottage but could not easily be seen. Coursa and Eduard readied their crossbows. Jain was sent to retrieve her sword, which she did quickly, expecting the laird and his men to arrive at any minute.

"So it's just us then, is it?" Joff asked after Jain got back.

"We'll bring some of them down with these," Coursa explained, Holding up her crossbow. "You two will take them head on while we continue to shoot from cover."

"How many are we expecting?" Joff asked.

"They mean to surprise us," Eduard replied. "So no more than a dozen."

"Oh, good," Joff said. "I was afraid we'd be outnumbered."

They waited. The shadows lengthened as the afternoon progressed. As evening settled in and Joff's stomach began to grumble, they heard movement from up the track.

A dozen horses carrying riders trotted into the clearing in front of the cottage. Laird Tomkin still rode the same champion stallion that Jain and Airk had decided not to steal from him nearly a year earlier. To Tomkin's right rode a lad of about sixteen. He had Tomkin's straight posture and haughty demeanor. To Tomkin's left rode a stout, surly man with shrewd eyes. They stopped in front of the cottage. The rest were common soldiers in helmets and chainmail. Each had a sword and dagger in his belt and a shield slung from his saddle.

"Danig, take these two and search the house," the stout man said. "Bradson, you take two and search around behind the house. The rest stay here. Come back here at the first sign of trouble."

The soldiers nodded. All of them dismounted and tethered their horses. The ones who had been given assignments went about them while the others stood silently and waited for orders.

Joff looked at Coursa. She smiled at him and put a finger to her lips. He put his hand on the hilt of his sword and leaned against the tree between himself and the laird, wishing that he could disappear into it. Coursa and Eduard both had their crossbows loaded and ready but neither of them moved to shoot or even take aim.

The laird, the youth, and the surly man talked among themselves while they waited. The surly man was the steward of all of Tomkin's lands, the caretaker who made Luishire work. The lad was Tomkin's son and heir. He had been brought along to see how his father dealt with unruly peasants. Joff feared that one of them would see the group hiding in the trees. The soldiers were not attentive. They were mostly just bored.

"What if they are not here?" Tomkin's son asked.

"We will burn the witch's cottage," Tomkin said. He pointed. "This track looks well used. I expect we can find some of their associates in these woods."

"There's no reason for peasants to wander here," the steward said. "Any we find are subject to my lord's judgment."

Tomkin smiled at that. "You see, Thomas, what you have to remember about holding power is that you need not worry overmuch about how you wield it. The important thing is to make sure people know you have it and will use it."

Joff sighed at the exchange. He wondered what the people of Luishire had ever done to deserve such a boar for a laird. Coursa noticed and nodded sympathetically. "It's time," she whispered to Eduard.

They both raised their crossbows. One of the soldiers perked up at the movement. "Now," Coursa whispered.

Tomkin reeled back a few steps and collapsed, a crossbow bolt through his heart. Thomas dropped to his knees and looked down at the bolt sticking out of his stomach. "Men!" the steward yelled as he drew his sword.

"Go," said Coursa.

Joff gulped. He and Jain both drew their swords and stepped out of the trees to face the three soldiers who now advanced on them. The steward was apparently content to supervise. One of the soldiers swung at Joff. He sidestepped and swung his sword in an arcing blow that connected solidly with the soldier's chest. The soldier took a step back and glanced down. The stroke had rent his tabard and broken a few of the links of his chainmail, but it had not broken the skin. "Bugger," said Joff.

Jain saw this and fought defensively, blocking and dodging as she waited for the soldier who pressed her to make a misstep that would give her the chance to swing hard enough to get through his armor. The soldier launched swing after swing, his balance remaining perfect, his blade snapping back to a guard position after each stroke. He fought like a clockwork man, every motion precise and automatic.

_Thunk!_ went a crossbow bolt, into the arm of the other soldier pressing Joff. _Thunk!_ went another into the ribs of the one Jain fought. She took the chance to throw a haymaker of a sword swing that made the soldier's helmet ring and sent him to the ground. The other wounded soldier managed to retreat as Joff pressed the one with the rent tabard. Joff thrust his sword at the soldier's face, forcing his opponent's guard high, then Joff stepped in and swung low to open a wicked cut on the soldier's unarmored thigh. As the soldier winced and struggled to find his balance Joff swung backhand and bashed the soldier's face with the pommel of his sword. The other soldier backed away from Joff, ignoring Jain. She took the chance to swing overhand and land a blow on the top of his shoulder that forced him to his knees, though it did not break his chainmail.

"Stab!" Joff yelled.

Jain thrust her sword into the soldier. The point found a gap between links and separated them before piercing his body. "How did you know that would work?" Jain asked as she pulled her sword free.

Joff took a deep breath. "How do you think? I read about it in a book."

The three soldiers who had gone to the back of the house returned just then with their swords drawn. A crossbow bolt glanced off the sword of the first one, nicking the blade. Another bolt struck him in the face and he fell to the ground.

"Men!" the steward shouted, looking at the door of the cottage. When no answer came, he ran to the door and tugged it open. A grey mist billowed out and he stepped back, sniffing. "Mortleaf."

The two remaining soldiers rushed at Jain and Joff. Jain tried to stab her oncoming foe but he knocked her sword aside and countered with a swing that she barely managed to dodge. Joff tried to sidestep the soldier who came at him, but the soldier moved with him and knocked the sword out of his hand. Joff lunged and punched out with all of his might. The blow connected with the soldier's chin. The soldier blinked and backhanded Joff with a mailed fist that took him off his feet.

Eduard leaped out of the trees, sword and dagger in hand. He struck quickly and wildly. The soldier raised his sword to block a high swing and Eduard drove the dagger into the soldier's armpit, one of the places the chainmail did not protect. The soldier's eyes widened in terror as blood rushed out of the wound. As the soldier collapsed, Eduard felt steel against his throat.

"Drop your weapons," the steward said. "I swear I'll open your throat if you don't." Eduard dropped his weapons. The steward looked at Jain. "You too, pretty."

Jain glanced over and saw Eduard's predicament. She had not come close to hitting the soldier she fought with anyway, so she tossed her sword to the ground.

"Now," the steward said. "I know there's one more of you with a crossbow. If that one doesn't come out then this boy gets his throat cut."

Coursa stepped out from the tree line and set the crossbow on the ground.

"Devlin," the steward said. "Keep the prisoners together. We just captured Coursa."

Devlin shoved Jain roughly in Joff's direction. Joff's eyes were open, but he breathed hard and Jain doubted if he could get up or if he would be able to fight when he did. The steward gave Eduard a rough shove.

"Sit!" Devlin ordered. Eduard and Jain sat.

The steward walked toward Coursa and smiled a gloating smile. "So this is Coursa, queen of the bandits." He rested the blade of his sword on his shoulder as he walked a circle around her. "I expected a hag but you're pretty."

Coursa stared into the middle distance, saying nothing, focusing on nothing. She would not rise to any bait this man offered.

The steward stopped in front of her. "I was going to have my way with the girl over there." He nodded toward Jain. "Now I think I must just let Devlin have her. What do you think, Devlin?"

Devlin ran the tip of his sword down Jain's chest. "Well, this is a fine catch, sir. But I wonder if an older woman who knows what she's doing might not be more fun for a tumble."

The steward stepped closer to Coursa, so close that she could feel his breath on her face. "What do think, love? Do you want to show Devlin a good time? If you and your friend treat us right, why we might just let you live . . . for a while." He looked at Devlin and they shared a laugh. Coursa's hand shot out and buried a knife to the hilt in the steward's throat.

"How does she do that?" Jain asked. Coursa had not been holding the knife a moment before and had not drawn it from anywhere that Jain could see.

"Bloody hell!" Devlin yelped.

Jain gritted her teeth. She wanted to attack Devlin while he was distracted but she had no weapon with which to do so. Then something she had once seen Coursa do came to mind. Jain reached under the soldier's chainmail shirt. He turned to look at her as she grabbed the front of his trousers with the strength of a lifetime of peasant labor. Devlin's eyes bulged as he looked at her. He clenched his teeth and raised his sword. Eduard tackled him from the side and they grappled furiously in the dirt. Jain took a dagger from the body of a dead soldier and plunged it into the back of Devlin's thigh. He threw his head back and moaned as blood gushed from the wound. Eduard clamped his hands around Devlin's throat and squeezed. Devlin struggled, but he was losing blood and his efforts grew more and more puny until they finally ceased.

"Is everyone alright?" Coursa asked. A lot of grumbling came in reply. "Good. Jain, would you mind if we all stayed at your cottage tonight? It'll take a few hours for the mortleaf to disperse."

"What's mortleaf?" Jain asked.

"A common weed that is very poisonous when burned," Joff said and he pushed himself to his knees. "It's why the three soldiers who went into the cottage did not come out."

"You can all stay with me tonight," Jain replied. "But first we see to my husband, and Grima."

"There's a cemetery on the other side of the hill," Coursa said. "We'll bury Grima there. Since Airk loved the laird so much, they can share a pyre. It's too late to do any of that now. We'll put the bodies in the barn and deal with them tomorrow."

Jain thought about it. Airk's family had plots back in their village. He would have wanted to lie next to his ancestors. Then again, he had tried to sell her out to Tomkin. Cremation would do for him. "These two are still alive," Jain said, indicating the soldier Joff had hit with his sword pommel and the one Jain herself had hit in the head.

"I'm not interested in prisoners," Coursa replied, her tone conveying her meaning. Jain nodded, and set about carrying out the meaning. It seemed like she should feel something about what we she was doing, but she did not. Maybe it was the loss of her husband and his betrayal, or maybe she just could not think of Tomkin's lackeys as human anymore.

Joff clambered to his feet but his knees wobbled and he quickly sat back down. His face contorted in pain and he put his hand on his chest. "Joff?" said Coursa as she rushed to him.

Joff's expression eased, because he forced it to. "A little too much excitement today. I . . . need a bed." He slumped back onto the ground and closed his eyes.

"Is he . . ." Eduard hesitated before he said, "going to be alright."

"He's breathing," Coursa replied. "His heart is beating but it's faster than it should be." She looked back at her cottage and cursed. "If I only I could get in there. Well, nothing for it. The dead will wait. Let's get Joff to Jain's cottage."

Eduard picked Joff up and put him over his shoulder. Jain offered to help, but Eduard shook his head. Joff weighed so little that Eduard barely strained, though Eduard was not an especially big or strong man. Jain ran ahead to get things ready at her cottage. She made sure the bed was ready, put a few logs on the coals in the fireplace, put the kettle on, and started the stew pot. Eduard set Joff down in the bed and they pulled the rough blanket over him. Eduard and Jain went back to Coursa's to build a pyre for the laird and his servants, including Airk. Coursa stayed with Joff, though there was little she could do but sit and wait

After a few hours Joff stirred. "Mfbrdrrbm."

"What?" Coursa asked.

"I don't know." Joff rubbed his eyes and groaned. "I feel like I was trampled by a horse."

"Are you hungry?"

"Actually, I think I could do with a trip to the privy." He sat up and looked around. "Where am I?"

"Jain's cottage. Try not to move around a lot. Your heart was beating strangely earlier. I'll go and get you a bucket"

"I'm fine. I'll just go out back." He swung his legs off the bed and pushed himself up.

Coursa stepped in front of him and put a hand on his shoulder. "You need to stay in bed."

"I'm fine," he repeated emphatically. Her grip tightened and she pushed down. Joff shook his head. He was not a strong man, but he could certainly overpower an old woman. He pushed against her hand, but fell back to a seated position. "If you could just not tell anyone about that, I would really appreciate it."

Coursa relaxed her hand and moved it to caress his cheek. "Save your strength love. I have better uses for it. Now stay there while I get you a bucket."

"You're going to tell people, aren't you?"

Coursa shook her head. "No." Her expression turn pensive. "Maybe. I'll get you a bucket."

While Joff did his business, Coursa got him a bowl of stew and a cup of tea. He ate a few bites of the stew and drank a few sips of tea before he set the bowl and cup on the table next to the bed. Fatigue tugged at the back of his eyes. "I'm so tired."

Coursa leaned over him and pulled back the blanket. She began to push his shirt up. When she saw his expression, she said, "Relax. I'm just going to check your heart again." She put her ear to his chest and listened.

He smiled at the feel of her hair spreading across him. "How does it sound?"

Coursa listened. The thumps came quickly but with no discernible rhythm. His heart beat like a drowning man, flailing, spasming, moving erratically in a desperate attempt to stay afloat. She sat up and pulled his shirt back down. "It sounds good."

"Is that why you're crying?"

Coursa looked away and wiped the tears from her cheeks.

"It's okay," Joff said. "I got sick ten years ago. I've had ten years more than was meant to be. I've had a better life than many, and I got meet you."

"The sword," Coursa said. "The sword might heal you."

Joff shook his head. "We don't know that."

"It wouldn't hurt you to draw it. It might make you better."

The words came to Joff as if from far away. Sleep was taking him. "I got the sword for you."

She started to answer, but he had fallen asleep. Coursa lay her head on his chest and wept. Jain and Eduard returned later, exhausted and dirty from building the pyre. They had burned the bodies that would be burned and moved Grima's body into the barn where it would not be ravaged by scavengers.

They paused for a moment and looked at Coursa, draped over Joff.

"Should we wake her?" Eduard asked. "She should probably eat."

"Let her rest," Jain replied. She shook her head. "It's so sad."

Eduard got himself a bowl of stew and put the kettle on. He sat down in one of the cottage's two chairs. "Get some food. You need to eat."

Jain continued to look at Joff and Coursa. "I'm not hungry."

"Eat," Eduard said emphatically.

Jain did not feel like eating, but she felt like arguing less. She took a bowl and filled it with the slightly burnt stew. It felt good to sit down. Jain had no appetite but she took a bite to keep Eduard from complaining. Then she took another and another.

"Not hungry?" Eduard said.

Jain stood up to get another bowl. "I'm ravenous."

Eduard nodded. "Something grandmother taught me. When big things happen you sometimes don't feel like eating. Once you do you usually fall face first into it, you're so hungry."

Coursa awoke with a start when the kettle began to whistle. Eduard jumped up and took it away from the fire. "Sorry," he said meekly.

"It's fine," Coursa said. She stroked Joff's face. He was pale but his breath came evenly. Coursa pulled the blankets up over his narrow shoulders. Eduard filled his bowl with stew and gave it Coursa. She took it gratefully and began to eat.

"How is he?" Jain asked.

"He's dying," Coursa said. "There's medicine in my cottage that will help him . . . if he makes it through the night."

"So we'll take him in the morning?" Jain said.

"He's too weak to be moved." Coursa put her hand over his heart. "So weak."

Jain walked to the bed and looked down at Joff. He looked thin, pale, and feeble, just like always. "He's always weak." The look Coursa gave her made Jain take a step back.

Coursa quickly relaxed and even smiled. "You weren't here when he was awake. He wanted to get up. He tried to get up and I stopped him with one hand."

"What is he dying of?" Eduard asked.

"It's his heart," Coursa replied. "The disease that made him so weak is the wasting. It weakens all the muscles. He has a weak heart and all the excitement of the fighting and the discovery . . . I never should have sent him after the sword. I should have kept him out of the fight."

"We would have failed at both without him," Eduard said. "He's brilliant."

"What do we do now?" Jain asked.

Coursa sighed. "Rest. The mortleaf smoke in my cottage will have settled by tomorrow. We'll get medicine and bring it to him."

"What about the sword?" Eduard asked.

Coursa nodded. "Yeah. We'll bring that, too."

"You'll do no such thing," Joff said, startling all of them. "We don't even know for sure what it would do."

"Joff, my love," Coursa said. Her hand slipped under the blanket as she leaned in close to him.

"Uh," said Joff.

She leaned over him and whispered in his ear. "How exactly are you going to stop us?"

"Well," Joff said slowly. "I can look at you real mean."

Coursa smiled. She shook her head at Joff and turned to Eduard and Jain. "Is there anywhere else to sleep?"

"No," said Jain. "Just the one bed. We never had a need for another."

"We'll take shifts," Coursa said wearily. "We should post a watch in case any of the laird's men come looking for him. One will sleep in the bed with Joff while the other two keep watch. It's better we watch by twos since we're all so tired."

"I'll just sleep on the floor," Eduard said.

"We have to bury your cousin tomorrow and try to heal Joff and deal with the three dead soldiers in my house and clean the mortleaf resin off of everything," Coursa said irritably. "You need rest."

"I'll sleep fine on the floor," Eduard insisted.

"You'll sleep in the bed," Coursa snapped. "And because you're being difficult about it, you get the first shift in the bed. Careful. He tends to cuddle in his sleep."

"I didn't need to know that," Eduard said levelly. He sat on the edge of the bed and took his boots off. "I'm not getting under the blanket with him."

"We'll take the chairs outside," Coursa said to Jain. "We don't want to disturb these fellows' alone time."

Eduard cursed under his breath as he lay down.

Stars peeked out from between the clouds and provided enough light for Jain and Coursa to see the shapes of the forest but not much detail. They sat in the chairs on either side of the door and sipped tea. "Can I ask you something?" Jain said.

"You already have."

Jain could not make out Coursa's expression, she could only see the starlight reflected from her hair and the steam rising from her cup. "What is it about Joff? He's not that handsome, he's not strong, he can't do anything besides read."

"That's worth a lot," Coursa said. "This may come as a shock, dear, but I've had quite a few men. I've had brave men and handsome men and clever men. I've never had a man like him, though. He's smart and kind. And he doesn't mind a woman who's in charge of herself."

"And everyone else," Jain added.

Jain did not see Coursa's grin so much as she sensed it. "Yes," Coursa said. "That, too."

They sat for a while without speaking. They did not sit in silence because there was no silence in the forest at night. Owls hooted, wind rustled in the leaves, and any number of nocturnal animals went about their business.

"I should have gone with Eduard," Jain said suddenly. She looked at Coursa but if the old woman's face betrayed any reaction, Jain could not see it. "I went with Airk because I thought he was the better man. Eduard would have been the better choice."

"You couldn't have known that. You could say that I shouldn't have gotten close to Joff, but I couldn't have known how this would turn out. We do the best we can."

"I just wish I hadn't chosen Airk," Jain said.

"I think we all wish that," Coursa said. "Including Airk. This life wasn't for him."

"What do I do? I had my whole life with him planned. We were going to have a farm and children." Jain laughed. "We were going to tell the children stories about our days with Coursa the Queen of Rogues."

"You can still have a farm and children. You can still tell them stories."

"I'm not a maiden, Coursa. Who's going to want me?"

Coursa leaned back in her chair and looked up at the stars. Jain thought she had fallen asleep when Coursa spoke. "I was older than you are when my Ralph died. We had children. I didn't know what to do."

"What did you do?" Jain asked, leaning closer. She very much wanted to see Coursa's face at that moment. Was the old woman remembering grief, hope, fear?

"I was already a rogue then. My children were rogues. What else could I raise them to be? My oldest, Gerald, he spent some time in the laird's army. He sent all his money home. When he came home from the last Goblin War he told me about a treasure stash. We went and got it and brought it back. Some of my children started farms and some became traders, and they all worked for me. They found trinkets. They learned where valuable things were kept. They found out when things were being moved I arranged the thefts, with children who didn't live near them, didn't look like them."

Jain laughed wryly. "I don't have an army of children to rob the lairds blind for me."

Jain could not see Coursa's face, just her white teeth reflected in the starlight. Jain prayed to every god she could think of, even Adara, that Coursa was smiling. "You have a young, strong body and a good mind. You'll find someone, if that's your wish. Until then, you have the cottage and the garden, the coin you've earned, and a share of the best score ever coming to you."

Jain felt tears start again, but she choked them back. Tears would flow at Grima's funeral and she knew she would cry if Joff died. But Airk would get no more tears from her. It occurred to Jain that Coursa had cried for at least one lover and that she did not deserve to cry for another. "Is Joff going to live?"

Coursa looked down and did not answer.

In the morning Eduard and Coursa went back to Coursa's cottage. Jain wanted to go but Coursa insisted that she, Coursa, had to go had to be sure to get the right medicines. An error would cost Joff time and might cost him his life. Eduard was better with a sword than Jain and he knew how to use the crossbow. He needed to be there in case they ran into any more of Tomkin's soldiers. Someone had to stay with Joff.

Grandmother and grandson left at a trot. Jain watched them go sadly. Eduard had taken her to shelter when she was in danger. Coursa had taken her in when she was homeless. Now, as Coursa watched her lover die and Eduard watched his grandmother suffer, Jain wished she could do more.

A groan from the bed told Jain that she had work to do. Joff had stirred. His fair hair had fallen across his face. Jain brushed it aside to reveal the pale skin and blue eyes. She knew that many people treasured looks like his. The fair hair and blue eyes attested to descent from the northern warrior peoples. The pale skin spoke of a life spent mostly indoors, away from the hard labor of the fields. To Jain, Joff looked ill. Daniel, Jain's father, had always taken pride in his ruddy tan. Eduard's black hair added to his rogue's charm. And Coursa's enormous brown eyes attested to her vitality even more than her thick hair and shapely hips.

Joff blinked a few times and smiled at Jain. "I'm sorry."

Jain tilted her head. "For what?"

"Your husband. You're too nice to have to deal with all of that."

The faces of the men Jain had dispatched on Coursa's order appeared in Jain's mind. "I'm not that nice."

One of Joff's shoulders rose in a feeble attempt at a shrug. "Relatively speaking."

"What can I do for you?" Jain asked with a smile.

"I think I'm due for a trip to the privies. No need to bother yourself."

"Coursa said 'No.' I'll get you a bucket."

Joff rolled his eyes. "What, are you going to restrain me?"

"Shouldn't be too hard. Coursa said she did it with one hand and she's three or four times as old as I am."

Joff looked away. "Bugger."

"I'll get the bucket. I promise I won't peek."

After Joff relieved himself and Jain disposed of it, she made tea and pulled a chair up to the bed so that they could drink together. She had planned to talk to him, but realized that she had nothing to talk about. She could not read, was not really interested in reading, and did not want to discuss her late husband or the battles of the previous day.

"Where's Coursa?" Joff asked with forced casualness.

"She went to get medicine for you. She'll be along soon." Joff nodded and sipped his tea. Jain looked into the fireplace. After a few minutes she turned back to Joff. "Coursa loves you. You have to live."

"I would consider that the desirable outcome in any case," Joff answered with a weak smile.

"I mean it. She deserves love. She loves you. You can't leave her now."

Joff gestured helplessly. "Where am I going? You won't even let me go to the privy."

"I'm getting us breakfast," Jain said.

Joff pointed to her. "You get us breakfast. I will attempt to not die."

The smell of cooking porridge filled the cottage. Coursa and Eduard returned just as Jain was getting ready to serve up breakfast. Eduard carried the sword of Adara in its decorated scabbard. Coursa had cloth sack about the size one might use to bundle a coat in. "Give me his porridge," Coursa said.

Jain ladled some of the porridge into a bowl and handed it to Coursa. Coursa set her bag on the table and pulled out a much smaller bag tied with a string. She undid the string and took a pinch of something dry and yellow that might have once been leafy and green. The dried substance dissolved quickly into the porridge and Coursa carried it to Joff.

"Corman leaf," Coursa said to Joff's questioning look.

"I've read about it."

A smile blossomed across Coursa's face. "Of course you have. But did you know where to get it?"

"No idea," Joff admitted as he took the bowl. "I've wanted to try it since I read about it."

"What's Corman?" Jain asked.

"It's a plant that grows in only a few places," Joff said. "The leaves are extremely poisonous when fresh. When dried they are very good for the muscles. It is said that . . ."

"Joff," Coursa said gently. "Eat your breakfast."

Joff ate.

"We will bury Grima this afternoon," Coursa said. "Some of my grandchildren are going to the cemetery now to dig the grave."

"Can I go and help?" Joff asked.

Coursa looked at him without expression.

"I'll just eat my porridge then, shall I?" asked Joff as he tried to recede into the bed.

Jain turned away to hide her smile. The smile faded as she thought about the coming funeral. "I'll stay with Joff. Airk was here because of me, so I bear some of the guilt."

A gentle hand came to rest on Jain's shoulder and she turned to look at Coursa. "No, dear. Airk's actions were his own. One of my daughters in law is coming to look after Joff. You must go to show that you're one of us now."

It made sense. If Jain did not show up for the funeral then she would never be able to show her face among Coursa's descendants again. Better to go and give anyone who wished to blame her, insult her, or accuse her the chance to do so and get it out of the way. Jain nodded.

"Is there a place we can hide the sword?" Coursa asked. "I am afraid to leave it in my cottage. I don't know who else Airk or Tomkin might have told."

Jain pointed to the top of one of the walls where the thatching hung down in an impractical way. Eduard reached up and shoved the errant roofing aside. A shelf had been carved into the topmost log. A bag of coins and a few trinkets sat there. Eduard put the sword on the shelf and pulled the thatching back into place.

The porridge bowl clinked on the table when Joff set it down. "I'll guard it with my life." He rolled onto his side and went to sleep.
Chapter 12

A short plump woman carrying a basket of sewing material arrived a while after. "Jain, this Medea," Coursa said. "She was married to my Lorenzo before he passed away."

"Coursa, I'm so sorry," Medea said. She dropped the basket and wrapped Coursa in a hug. Coursa's eyes widened in surprise for a moment, but then her expression softened and she returned the hug. Medea turned to Jain. "I'm sorry for what happened to you, too. It was just awful what that man did."

"Thank you," said Jain. She gave Medea an appraising look. Medea looked like someone's fat grandmother. "Are you sure you'll be okay here alone?"

Medea was already straightening Joff's blankets. "I'll be fine. I've been on my own since my Norman went away to work in the City of Books. It's a shame to miss the funeral, but Grima . . ." She walked to the fireplace and put the kettle on as she spoke. "Well, that's a long story. I'll be along to put a flower on his grave sometime. Now off with you. Too much chatter might disturb Joff's rest."

Jain and Coursa looked at each other. Coursa grinned. They left with Eduard and followed a path that led up a steady grade. The path wound its way for a few miles into the woods without incident. Then a goat kid jumped out into the middle of the trail and stared at them with one of its eyes. Goats' eyes had always bothered Jain. The pupils were weirdly rectangle shaped, like some animal that did not belong in the mortal world. As weird as the eyes were, Jain always thought she could detect a vague malice in them.

"Baah!" the goat screamed at the world.

A black dog the size of a pony jumped out from the woods and landed between the people and the goat. The dog barked at the goat and it turned and ran down the path with another bleat of protest. The dog turned to the people and snarled.

"Shhh," Coursa said gently.

The dog sat and looked at her. Coursa stepped forward and patted the dog on the head as she passed. Eduard walked past the dog without stopping. Jain reached out to pet the dog. The dog stood and his lips curled back to reveal rows of teeth so sharp they might have been filed down. Jain slowly retracted her hand and the dog's snarl faded.

"Come along, dear," Coursa said from further up the path.

The dog ran after Coursa and Jain followed, wondering which of them Coursa had been talking to. They reached a clearing where sheep, goats, and pigs wandered and foraged. In the center stood a small cottage like the one Jain lived in but with a roof made of animal hides instead of thatch. A stone barn with a wooden roof stood nearby. The barn was many times the size of the cottage and animals wandered in and out as they pleased.

"My Sarah," Coursa said. "She and her family raise all the meat that we eat."

Sarah stood a little taller than her mother and had huskier build. She was the kind of woman people politely referred to as "sturdy" or "rugged" and impolitely referred to as "mannish." Though she lacked Coursa's fine build she did have her mother's rich brown eyes. She walked out of her house and was followed by a man that made her seem petite and three children whose ages were impossible to guess because they were all so big.

"Should one of you stay behind to look after things?" Coursa asked when the family presented themselves.

"Nah," said the husband. "The dogs'll look after things. They're better shepherds than I am."

Eduard grinned. "You say that like it would be hard to do, Reuben."

"Well if it isn't my little _niece_ ," the big man replied cheerfully. "How's the ear Eduard?"

Eduard started walking again while everyone else except Jain and the youngest of the children laughed. "What happened?" the youngest child, a giant of a five year old, asked.

"Seen and not heard," Sarah gently reminded.

"What happened?" Jain asked.

Sarah narrowed her eyes at Jain. Reuben smiled and started telling the story. Reuben had entered Coursa's service many years earlier after a disagreement with his prior laird over the amount he owed in taxes on his modest flock of sheep. He had met one of Sarah's brothers, who brought him to the forest because Coursa needed a shepherd to keep her growing clan supplied with meat, milk, and other animal products. When Eduard entered his grandmother's service, he commented disparagingly on the livestock farm and in particular on the order of one the ponds.

Reuben was a proud man and did not appreciate Eduard's commentary, so he had cuffed Eduard lightly on the ear. Reuben stood a full head taller than Eduard and outweighed him by a least double, so a light cuff from Reuben had been enough to send Eduard tumbling into the pond he had just complained about. When Eduard fell in, he hit the bottom of the pond with the ear that had been struck, filling that ear with mud and dung. It had taken Coursa most of a day to get all the muck out and, between the blow and the packed filth, it took Eduard the better part of a week to regain his equilibrium. So whenever Eduard annoyed Reuben, the big man asked Eduard about his ear.

The story filled the time until they reached the next clearing and its cottage, where another family joined them. They found more cottages and more families. The woods seemed full of people with owlish brown eyes, brilliant white teeth, or the unshakable calm of the rogue matriarch. Would there ever be a clan of people who looked like Jain, she wondered.

Over thirty people had joined the group by the time they reached the top of the hill. A tree with scarred bark grew close to the path and Coursa stopped by it. She put her hand on the trunk and closed her eyes. "My Roger is buried at the foot of this tree, beneath my feet. He was the father of most of my children."

Sarah and some of the other, older members of Coursa's clan approached and also set their hands on the tree. The rest stood or milled about in awkward silence. Jain wondered what Coursa was thinking. The old woman stood at the grave of her lover, her husband in all but formal title, while her current lover lay on what might be his deathbed. And now she was going to bury a grandchild. What must it have been like to live so long, to see everyone die and even to outlive the next generation? Coursa had once told Jain that Roger had died in his fortieth year and that he had been older than Coursa. Eduard had said that Coursa was at least sixty and possibly older, much older. That meant that Roger had died at least twenty years prior. He must have been dead now for longer than he and Coursa had been together.

Lost in thought, it took Jain a few moments to notice that Coursa had left the tree and everyone was moving again. The trees here grew tall and strong and very little grew between them. Each of the mighty trees had a scar on its bark. Roger's had been too faded for Jain to make out but others were more clear: a sword, a hammer, an eagle. Each must have meant something in relation to the person buried by the tree. There were dozens lining the road and more receding to the forest, hundreds in all. Jain realized then that this cemetery did not only belong to Coursa's family. There must have once been a community of people in these woods who disposed of their dead this way. Jain wondered what had happened to that community. The closest village she knew of was her own and she had never heard of them burying their dead in this way.

A group of men that included Eduard stood around a hole beside a tree marked with a quill and book. Grima's tied and shrouded body lay on the ground beside them. The funeral procession formed a semicircle around the grave and Coursa stepped forward to stand over her grandson.

"Grima was a strange one," Coursa said with a smile. "While other children ran and played, he asked questions. He wanted to know everything about everything. He hated distractions. It was his love of learning and focus that made him such a good augur. He was wise in the ways of the gods and he loved all of them. He came into the service of Lord Hadrid and Grima was loyal and loving of his lord. And he remained loyal and loving to his family throughout. It is hard to believe that a man could have loyalties so divided, between rogues and gods and lairds, and still remain faithful to them all. But Grima did. He never forgot his home. We were blessed to have him." Coursa stepped aside.

There was a general shuffling of feet and clearing of throats before a cousin of Grima's stepped forward and launched into a story of their childhood. The cousin, whose name was Lanslow, had wanted to climb a tree and Grima had consented to go with him. Lanslow had known that this was out of character for Grima but had not questioned it. When they had reached the higher branches Grima stopped and made his way out on one of the limbs. A nest was there and on the nest sat a bird about the size of a chicken. It had bright red, green, and blue feathers in a crest on the back of its head. Neither Grima nor Lanslow had ever seen anything like it. Grima had agreed to climb the tree because the strange bird was there and he wanted to study it. He had no more interest in his cousin's treetop game than the cousin had in the bird.

More stories followed from other relatives. Grima had been neither playful nor especially polite to any of them. For these minor failings he had always displayed an impressive thirst for knowledge and a willingness to share what he learned when needed.

Finally the moment came when no one stepped forward to tell another story and it was time to lower Grima into the ground. Eduard, Lanslow, and two other men grabbed some of the ropes that trailed off the shroud and lifted the body. They arrayed themselves around the grave and began to lower Grima. Coursa and the other relatives began to sing. Jain did not know the song, so she stayed respectfully silent. The song was called "The Lament of the Gods." It was a song said to have been written by the gods themselves. Dagda, the sun god, rose over the world and panicked when he did not see everyone he had seen the day before. As he ascended the sky he saw that some had died in the night and more people died as the day went on. All this he watched, helpless and grief stricken, until he could bear it no more and he returned, weeping, to his home beyond the horizon. The sky god, Toran watched the world through night and day, witnessing the passing of the people, unable to look away. He expressed his grief and rage at the passing of the people by throwing cold and storms upon the land.

The last verse came from the Morigaine, goddess of the land. She did not mourn the passing of mortal men because she understood that all life must pass. Just as the seasons came and went, so too with the loves of men. Morigaine knew better than any other that part of the cycle of life was death. Even she could not know what lay beyond that far shore but she did know that it was not something to fear, so she did not worry and weep for those went.

As the song continued the men lowered the body into the grave. They timed it perfectly so that the body came to rest at the end of the last verse. A sickly woman with black hair and pale skin walked forward. She wept as she tossed a handful of wildflowers into the grave. "Goodbye, my boy," she said between sobs.

The family clearly had their own rituals and traditions developed over years, decades, maybe generations. Jain knew that she needed to keep quiet and let them do this. The worst thing she could do would be to act out or draw attention. She knew this, and she rushed forward anyway. Jain wrapped Grima's mother in a hug. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Jain kept saying over and over. The pale woman hugged her back and they wept together.

A gentle hand fell on each of their shoulders and they looked up into Coursa's eyes. "Let's all get back to my cottage. We'll all have tea and a bit of something to eat."

The men filled in Grima's grave while Jain and Grima's mother wept. The two women walked away, arm in arm. Grima's mother's name was Alissa and she was the wife of Alban, a son of Coursa's who was currently working as a servant to the Council of Lairds in the City of Books. He did not know that his youngest son had died. Their other children had all been at the funeral. Now one of them would have to travel to the city and inform their father.

Sarah, Lanslow, and their children went back to their farm, as did all the other families with children and a few of those without, including Alissa and all but two of her children. Of those who remained, most bore a familial resemblance to Coursa. There was something else about them, something Jain had failed to notice before; they were all armed. None of them spoke and they all moved with purpose.

Coursa set out bread and cheese and put the kettle on when they reached the cottage. "Everyone make yourselves comfortable," she said. Jain and thirteen of Coursa's descendants crowded into the main room. Some sat but most remained standing, like soldiers at attention.

"Grima did not die alone," Coursa said. "Laird Tomkin and his son died yesterday, along with all the men who traveled with them and Airk, the traitor." A few people looked Jain's way at this. "You can all thank Jain for the traitor's death. She ran him through. She also helped fight the laird's men."

"Why didn't you call on us?" one of the men asked.

"There wasn't time," Coursa replied. She frowned as she thought about Joff. "It's done. Now we have to deal with the consequences. A laird has died. We have to assume that he told people where he was going. They will be coming."

"They, who?" someone asked.

"The lairds," Coursa explained. "We've killed one of them. They'll be coming for us now. They have only ever been united by foreign invasion and peasant rebellion." The kettle began to whistle. A blue-eyed women with a graceful, slender form like Coursa's took the kettle and started pouring for those who wanted it. "Thank you, dear," said Coursa. "Now, we have to stop them before they organize. Eduard, you and Eli will travel to the City of Books. You will inform Alban of his son's fate and you will give him this." The vial seemed to appear in Coursa's hand. Everyone in the room had seen the trick before so none of them reacted. "Be careful with that. There's enough voraxa poison in there to kill everyone in this room and a few more. When the council is called I want Alban to put that in their wine. Then I want him to make his way back here. The poison will take a few days to act, so he should be able to get away without suspicion if he is quick and careful."

Eduard took the vial and slipped it into one of his pockets. "We'll go in the morning."

Coursa proceeded to give out more assignments. A father and son team were given the two crossbows and assigned to haunt the woods where another laird liked to hunt. A mother and son got the job of traveling to another shire where one of Coursa's children worked as a groom in the laird's stable. A few leaves from the right plant slipped into the feed of the laird's prized horse would turn the magnificent yet docile gelding in a bucking, kicking monster when the laird tried to ride him. And so it went. Every laird in The Holdings would suffer at least one attempt on his life. The very fortunate ones needed only to avoid the wine in the City of Books. Tomkin's closest allies would each have to avoid at least two attempts.

Numbers had never been a friend to Jain, but she reckoned that if half the assassination attempts were successful then The Holdings would lose enough of its lairds to ensure years of chaos. Some of the lairds had no heirs. Some of the assassination plots would also reach the heirs of those who had them, and even if heirs survived there would be inevitable disputes involving regencies for the very young and brothers' wars between claimants. All of Tomkin's advances toward uniting the country under one king would be wiped away at a stroke. Given her own experience with Tomkin, Jain did not think that was such a bad thing.

"What about me?" Jain asked when she realized that she had not received an assignment.

"I need you to stay with me and Joff," Coursa said. She sighed. "Some of Tomkin's men may come looking for him. I would rather it not be just me and Joff if that happens. You don't know my family or our hideouts."

"Are you sure you trust her?" one of the grandchildren asked. "She is the one who brought the traitor."

"And the one who killed him," Coursa replied before Jain could so much as look sullen. "Come on dear. Let's get back to your cottage and check on Joff."

The shadows of early evening lay long and dark across the path as Coursa and Jain walked. Questions filled Jain's mind, but she asked none of them.

"Awfully quiet tonight, dear. What's on your mind?" Coursa smiled her strangely unsettling smile.

"Coursa," Jain began. She stopped and hesitated for a moment. "Coursa, how long have you been planning this?"

Coursa's smile widened. Her faced seemed made of massive brown eyes and brilliant white teeth. The effect was alluring and repulsive all at once. The eyes were warm and inviting, but they knew too much. The teeth shone like the dawn, but they were sharp and strong. "I figured it all out today. Not bad for short notice."

Jain stopped. Coursa took another step and turned to face her. "No," Jain said. "You have people in all the right places. You have a way to kill all of them at once. You have ways into all of their castles, ways to get to all of them. You sent your children and your grandchildren to work in those castles. How long, Coursa?"

Coursa smoothed her skirts and sat down on a tree stump next to the path. "All my life. I did not kill Tomkin's grandfather. I should have. He hunted me for years." Coursa looked off down the path. In that moment Jain would have believed that Coursa had gone senile, so distant was the look in the old woman's eyes. "Torlain was his name, Tomkin's grandfather. My Roger was a servant at the castle. I didn't know that when we met. I didn't even think of it. He would come to the forest when he could get away and we would spend the day together." She wiped away a tear. "I didn't tell him about the price on my head, but he found out."

As Jain knelt, she took Coursa's hand in her own. "What happened?"

"Roger poisoned Torlain's food. When Torlain died, his grudge died with him. No one knew who poisoned Torlain, so Roger kept working at the castle. Through the years I always knew where to find things and if the laird's men were after me, because he knew. He managed to get one of our children into service there. I always knew what was happening. I always had a plan for if the laird got too close. So I just kept sending my children places, setting them up in trades and places where they would find things out."

"How long?" Jain asked.

Coursa shrugged. "Forty years."

Forty years! The old woman had plotted the downfall of the entire social order for forty years. That was more than twice as long as Jain had been alive. Lairds squabbled over inches of land and titles no one cared about. And while they had squabbled, Coursa had plotted. It had nearly come undone at the cottage. If that battle had gone differently . . . "Coursa," Jain said.

Coursa's eyes found Jain's, and the smile returned, fiercer then ever. "Yes, dear."

"What would have happened if we had lost to Tomkin yesterday?"

"Clever girl. I'm sure you can figure it out." She pulled away from Jain and stood up. "Now come along. I want to see how Joff's doing."

"I do, too," Jain replied. "He seems to be the one thing you didn't plan on."

Coursa stopped and whirled so fast that Jain stepped back in fear. But Coursa was not angry. Her eyes fairly glowed and she inclined her head in something that was almost a bow. "You see more than most, my dear. It's good to see my influence has not gone to waste."

Voices emanated from the cottage as Jain and Coursa approached. "It's amazing what you learn about medicine just by listening to people," Medea was saying.

"Yes," Joff agreed in a weary voice. "But I prefer . . ."

"Like when I was pregnant, I learned from my sister that you can prevent rickets by putting iron around a baby's crib."

"Actually, if a child is nursed by . . ."

"Oh, yes the nursing is important," Medea interrupted. "But we must remember to do everything."

"The best thing is to . . ."

"Hang garlic nearby. That's what my cousin told me. She's the best midwife in her shire. She hardly ever loses mothers or babies."

"Well, I never read anything about garlic," Joff began diplomatically. "But I have read . . ."

"Well, my cousin would know," Medea chattered over him.

Jain and Coursa stopped outside the cottage to listen to the conversation, or rather to Medea's monologue since Joff's contributions did not seem to mean much. Coursa looked at Jain and grinned. "Poor man," Jain whispered. "He's so beaten."

"He is that."

Jain's eyes narrowed. "Do you like that about him?"

"That's what I like least about him," Coursa replied, a note of distaste in her voice. Her expression softened and she chuckled softly. "Although I don't know how he would deal with me if he were otherwise."

"Shall we go and rescue him?"

"Let's do."

They walked in on Medea in the middle of a rambling discourse on . . . something. The topic had shifted from rickets to some other ailment. When she saw them walk in, Medea smiled. "Hello. We've had the loveliest conversation." She launched into a recounting of the topics they had been discussing.

Joff gave them such a look of wide eyed panic that Jain had to feign a coughing fit to keep from laughing.

"Thank you for looking after him," Coursa said as she gently but firmly took Medea by the arm and started walking her to the door.

"Oh it was nothing," Medea said. Jain picked up Medea's bag and handed it to her. "He reads a lot. He knows about all kinds of things." Medea continued to talk as Coursa all but shoved her through the door and bade her goodnight.

"That was impressive," Jain said as she took a seat by the fire. "I was afraid she'd stay the night."

"We had that in common," Joff said grimly. "I pretended to sleep for a while. Then I had to use the privy."

Coursa whirled on him. "You got up and went to the privy?"

He shook his head. "She knew about that, thank you very much, so she brought the bucket. For a while I told her I needed to go back to sleep, but that didn't shut her up." He moved over slightly to let Coursa sit on the edge of the bed.

"How are you feeling?" Coursa asked as she put a hand on his cheek. "It sounds like you aren't as tired as you have been."

"Better. It's not so hard to stay awake now."

"We should clean you up," Coursa said. "You're starting to smell." Coursa turned away from the bed. "Jain, would you heat up a bucket of water?"

"There is a tub out back," Jain said. "It might be easier to bathe him in the morning."

"Most likely," Coursa agreed. "But I don't know if he'll be ready to walk and I need to clean him up. He could also do with a change of clothes."

"Some of Airk's old clothes will be the trunk," Jain said. "They'll be big on Joff but I imagine they'll do. I'll go and get some water."

When she had gone, Joff smiled. "Alone at last, eh?"

"Don't get any ideas. Your heart is still too weak. Now take off your clothes."

A broad smile spread across Joff's face. Coursa shook her head and helped him take of his shirt. His pants, trousers, and the shorts he wore under his trousers had all been soaked with sweat the day before and now the odor made Coursa wince. She folded the clothes and set them just outside the door. Joff pulled the blanket back over himself as Jain walked in.

"Don't be bashful," Coursa said. "I'll need Jain to put down a different sheet while I wash you."

"It's okay," Jain said in a soothing tone. She set the bucket down next to the bed and went to get a rag for washing and a bigger rag for drying. "I know what a man looks like."

Joff pushed the covers aside and swung his legs off the bed. A few moments passed before he pushed himself up. Coursa grabbed him and pulled him to an upright position.

"Are you alright?" Coursa asked.

He smiled and glanced down.

Her eyes involuntarily followed his. "Oh. I'd say you're better than alright." She let him go and took the rag. No one spoke wile Coursa washed him, except when she asked him to turn around so she could wash his back. Jain focused on the bed sheets. Coursa had been right: everything smelled horrible. Even the straw mattress could have done with some airing out or even changing, but there was no time for all that. She put a clean sheet over the mattress and clean blankets on the side where Joff could easily reach them.

When Coursa had finished washing him, Joff sunk back to the bed, his eyes glazed with exhaustion. Course put her had on Joff's chest and he groaned, with pain or pleasure was hard to tell.

"Joff, your heartbeat is wild."

"Tired. Better than I was." Fatigue weighed heavily in his voice.

Jain took one of the blankets and covered him with it.

"Joff, I need you to draw the sword. I'm afraid you'll die."

"I just want to sleep," Joff replied. "I'll be better in the morning."

"Joff," Coursa said, but he was already asleep.

"What do you think?" Jain asked from the other side of the bed.

"He's getting stronger," Coursa replied in a tone that betrayed no optimism.

"But?"

A sigh deflated Coursa's whole body. "It's not happening fast enough. The herbs are helping, but his heart's been beating too fast for almost two days and it was weak to start." Her voice trembled on the last few words.

Some of Joff's pale hair had fallen across his pale face. Jain reached over and smoothed it away. "He's so thin, so pale. It's like there's not enough of him." It was true. Joff looked like nothing so much as a drawing with none of the details fleshed out or filled in.

"I need for you to promise me something," Coursa said. When Jain nodded, Coursa said, "I am old. If Joff recovers from this, there's a good chance he'll outlive me. I need for you to take care of him."

Jain looked at the wisp of a man on the bed. He had lived on his own for some time but from what Jain understood it had not been much of a life. Mostly he had just tried to eke out enough of a living writing translations to hire other people to take care of him. No one knew the details of what Airk had told Tomkin or what Tomkin had passed along to anyone else. It was entirely possible that Joff's recent role in Coursa's organization was known. If that was the case then a return to the City of Books would mean a trip to an augur's stone sacrifice table. Feeble as Joff's blood was, it was bound to be pleasing to one or another of the gods.

"I'm not asking you to take him to your bed," Coursa said. "I wouldn't begrudge you that. Some of the things he's read . . ." Coursa grinned at Jain's expression. "Anyway. I need to know that he'll be taken care of."

The illness wracking Joff's body would kill him within another day or two. If he did somehow live through it, then Coursa still showed no signs of frailty or illness, so she would probably live a long time. If Joff did survive and Coursa did die then the arrangement would leave Jain with the best translator in The Holdings. "I'll look after him," Jain said. "But I'd rather not have to. Is something wrong, Coursa?"

"I've been feeling my age more than usual." She smiled weakly. It was not her terrifying grin, just the wan smile of an old woman who has had too much excitement. "Get some rest dear. I'll take the first watch."
Chapter 13

The sound of birdsong awoke Joff the next morning. He opened his eyes and looked into Coursa's. "Morning," he said slowly. "How long have you been staring at me?"

She smiled. "I was worried. How do you feel?"

Joff sat up. He pushed the covers aside and swung his legs off the bed. He did not need to push himself up with his hands, he just stood. As Joff stretched he wondered where his clothes where. The cottage door opened and Jain walked in carrying a basket of berries.

"Whoa!" she said when she saw Joff. She turned away and nearly dropped the berries.

Joff covered himself with his hands and looked around frantically. Coursa would later swear that she had not pulled the blanket out of his reach.

"I'll just leave you two alone for a bit," Jain said as she made a hasty exit.

"You don't need to do that," Coursa said, nodding to his hands.

He dropped his hands to his sides. "Yeah. Well, I feel a lot better now."

Coursa rose and walked around the bed to him. She put her hand on Joff's chest.

"Cold," he said.

"Sh." Coursa closed her eyes as she felt the strong, steady beats of Joff's heart. "You are better."

A small bump like a mouse under a blanket appeared on Joff's arm when he flexed. "I feel stronger than I have in a long time. The Corman leaf works."

"I thinks it's time to finish your healing," Coursa said. She stepped closer to Joff. "Draw the sword."

"No. It's for you."

"I could make you draw it," Coursa said plainly.

"No, you can't. I'm stronger now, remember?"

Coursa put her hand on his chest and pushed. He resisted for a moment before he tumbled back onto the bed. Coursa sighed. "Please draw the sword. For all we know it may do nothing." Coursa sat down next him. "I can't do this again, my love. I thought I had lost you."

"I don't want to lose you, either." He sat glumly for a few minutes. Coursa stared at him with eyes so big and pleading that he knew he could not refuse her. She had coaxed him with threats, with lust, and now with love. Joff wondered what other tools of persuasion this remarkable woman possessed. "We'll draw it together." He stood and walked to the spot on the wall where Jain had hidden the sword.

"What?" Coursa asked. "What will that do?"

Joff looked back at her. "I have no idea. I'm hoping that whatever it does will be divided between us. Maybe it makes you young and me strong or maybe it take a few years off you and gives me some muscle."

"Or maybe it does nothing," Coursa stood and walked up to him. "If the sword does have power then I don't want to waste it."

"Coursa, please. This way is best. Whatever happens, happens." He sighed. "I know I don't stand up for myself much. I know I usually let you have your way. This is the exception. I will not be moved on this."

Coursa's smiled returned. "We both know I'll move you as I please."

"Yes," Joff conceded. "But I think you love me enough to give a little on this."

Coursa shook her head. "Jain's getting clever and you're getting persuasive. I've taught you both too well. Alright. Get the sword."

Joff reached up a grabbed the sheathed sword. His teeth clenched with effort as he pulled it out and he staggered back a few steps when he caught the full weight of it. The tip of the scabbard came to rest on the floor and Joff put his hand high on the hilt. Coursa grabbed the pommel. "Whatever happens, you have my love," Joff said.

"And you, mine."

"Are you ready?"

"No," Coursa answered. "With my luck this will put me back into the change of life."

Joff hesitated. "If this works, do you want to have children?" Her eyes widened at that. "Well," said Joff, "it is something to think about it."

"Just draw the sword," Coursa snapped.

Together they pulled. The sword pulled free of its scabbard and they held it together. The blade caught the light coming in through the window and the designs etched into it seemed to glow. Joff admired the craftsmanship, mentally calculating the age and origin of the sword by the style of the blade and the color of the metal. He grinned with pride. The sword was the subject of legend, sought after by heroes and villains for centuries. Now he had it.

"You're looking strong," Coursa said.

And speaking of legends. Joff decided that the worthier treasure in the room was not forged of metal, regardless of its magical properties. He yanked the sword away from Coursa, only so he could toss it aside and take her in his arms. "You're looking radiant." Her grin had never been wider, nor more inviting.

Hours later they both awoke to a knock at the door. "Can I come in?" Jain asked.

Coursa laughed as she pulled the blankets up over herself. Joff grabbed the clothes of Airk's that lay folded on he chest at the foot of the bed. He could have worn the shirt as a robe and he could have almost turned around in either leg of the trousers, but he managed to make it all work by tying on a belt. Coursa laughed again at the sight of the ill fitting clothes. Joff walked around to her side of the bed and yanked back the covers, revealing her firm, curvaceous form. He looked over her body admiringly and kissed her deeply before he gave her back the covers and went to open the door.

Jain smiled awkwardly. She looked everywhere but in Joff's eyes for moment. "The clothes . . . " She had been going to say "fit" but it seemed wrong to lie and especially wrong to tell such an obvious lie.

"I have a change of clothes at Coursa's," Joff said. "Thank you for the loan." He stepped aside and Jain walked in.

Jain looked at the bed and saw Coursa's head and shoulders over the blankets. They had used the bed, her bed. Jain did not entirely appreciate that, but she decided not to make an issue of it. Her boot hit something on the floor and she looked down to see the sword of Adara and its scabbard lying on the floor. Jain looked at Joff, then back at Coursa. "Did you . . ."

"We did," Joff said. He picked up the scabbard and handed it to Jain.

It took Jain a moment to understood that Joff was too weak to pick up the sword, or at least too weak for it to be easy for him. So she picked it up and sheathed it. She set the sword and sheath on the table and turned back to the others. "Did it work?"

Joff smiled. "Oh yeah." He flexed his arm. "Look at that. Like one of the great strangling snakes of Kargan."

Jain nodded and manged to look him in the eye. "They strangle mice, do they?"

Coursa dressed while Jain faced the fireplace, cooking food. She had brought back meat from Sarah and Dalton's farm and she had bread in the house. The meal was simple and hearty. Joff and Coursa both seemed different. Joff acted stronger than at any time since Jain had met him and Coursa was happy and even playful, but if the sword had worked some kind of magic then it was subtle. Coursa's hair was still white and Joff was still thin and frail. Perhaps the magic had given Coursa back a few years and restored just a bit of Joff's strength. Jain hoped so.

The couple went back to Coursa's cottage that night. Jain had thought she would be glad to have her own cottage to herself. She liked Joff, but walking in on him naked, seeing his pale, scrawny body, was not an experience she ever cared to repeat. Sitting alone on her bed, the bed she had shared with Airk, Jain realized that she was alone in a way she never had been. In Daniel's cottage she had shared a palette with her sister. Since leaving there she had always been in the company of others. There had been the errands Coursa sent her on with Airk and often with Eduard as well. In the days since Airk's death, Joff had never left her bed and Coursa had always been around. For Jain there was no such thing as privacy. Such a thing could not even be contemplated.

Now Jain had a place all to herself and found that she did not care for it. She wondered if she could go home. She had earned enough gold in Coursa's service to buy Daniel a bigger cottage. She could buy him his own land, come to think of it. With Tomkin dead and his line ended an endless stream of possibility opened in front of Jain. Her life was her own. It had never been that. She always answered to others and now she had no idea what to do with freedom.
Chapter 14

Joff went outside early the the next morning and started gathering firewood. The sticks were heavy but Joff found that he could manage it. After a while he started to whistle as he enjoyed the cool morning and his own independence. He had about as much wood as he thought he could carry, around a third as much as Eduard had always brought back, when he found a fallen log. The wood looked fresh and Joff pictured it in logs weathering outside the cottage all summer and burning slowly through the day in the winter.

The thought of warm, cozy days inside with Coursa brought a wide smile to Joff's face. He walked back to the cottage and dumped his armload of wood near the front door. An axe rested on a shelf in the stables and Joff retrieved it. There were no horses in the stable now. Coursa's descendants had taken all that were available to go about their grim tasks. Joff wished they had left one. The log would be hard to move, even after he cut it up. A horse would have been helpful.

Joff tried to rest the axe on his shoulder as he had seen woodcutters do and nearly cut his own ear off. He sighed and resolved to carry the axe in both hands in front of him. The walk back to the log made him sweat, despite the cool morning. By the time he reached the log he was starting to breath hard. Joff knew that he would have go back, but he wanted to take one good swing at the log before he did. He raised the axe high over his head. It balanced there for a moment before it descended backward, taking Joff with hit. He lay on his back, gasping, and let darkness take him.

"Joff?"

He opened his eyes and saw Jain kneeling over him. The light in the forest indicated that he had slept for about an hour. He rose easily and smiled.

"Are you alright?" Jain asked.

"I'm fine. I just overdid it a bit." He rubbed the back of his head. "If we could avoid telling Coursa about this, that would be great."

Jain looked past Joff. He rolled his eyes. "Hello, my love."

"Keeping secrets?" Coursa asked as she put her arm around his shoulders.

Joff sighed. "How did you find me?"

"I found the log when I was gathering wood yesterday," Jain said. She nodded to a saw that sat propped against the log in question. "I came back to cut it up and I found you. So I went and got Coursa."

"Of course you did," Joff answered, pointedly not looking at Coursa.

Jain looked at the axe and shook her head. "It would have taken you all day to get through the log with that."

"First time cutting wood," Joff explained lamely.

"How did you survive before we found you?" Jain asked.

Joff gestured vaguely with one hand but said nothing.

"Come on," Coursa said. "Let's get you home. You've had enough of the outdoors for today."

"I'm fine," Joff said.

Coursa rested her chin on his shoulder and whispered. "I'm sure we could find enjoyable ways to pass the time inside, my love."

For the next week Joff and Coursa lived together as a happy couple, with frequent visits from Jain. The smell of the muscle enhancing Corman hung heavily in the cottage at all times and Joff soon found that he no longer noticed its slightly bitter taste in his food. Real labor remained well beyond his abilities but he found that he could do a few hours a day of work, more if he worked slowly. So he cleaned the empty stables, weeded in the garden, and gathered firewood.

The peaceful, happy week ended abruptly when Eduard and Eli rode up to the cottage accompanied by Coursa's son and Eli's father, Alban. A life of servitude in a castle had made Alban pale and somewhat portly. He dismounted his horse with exaggerated care and embraced his mother.

Coursa brought them all in and had them sit at the table. There was no hot food in the house so Joff got out bread and cheese for them to eat. Coursa talked to Alban at length about Grima. The others sat around in silence, unable to add anything or to leave with undue awkwardness. Eventually, Coursa asked about the grim task she had given Alban.

"It is done," he said. "Twelve lairds showed up for the council. Nine of them died of the poison. Laird Silas took ill and when I left it was suspected that he would not survive."

"And the other two?" Coursa asked.

A wry laugh shook Alban's jowls. "The other two knew better than to eat or drink. Clever bastards."

"Were you suspected?" Coursa asked.

"We all were," Alban replied. He explained that all of the servants had been interrogated and their quarters thoroughly searched. But Alban had not kept any of the poison and had disposed of the vial in the castle moat. Even in the palace of the Council of Lairds there were more likely assassins than a fat, middle-aged servant. Before Alban played his part news had reached the City of Augurs that three other lairds had died suddenly and another had survived only because he had lent his cousin the use of his favorite mistress, so the assassin had killed the wrong man.

"What's the mood of The Holdings?" Joff asked.

He had addressed Alban, but it was Eduard who replied. "Panic. Everyone goes armed now. It is difficult to travel from one holding to another. Soldiers question all who travel. And there is word of intrigues in the courts. Heirs have died and so have lesser members of noble families. Parnshire is said to be in chaos. The Laird and his heir both died. There is no one to take over except a few cousins who are threatening to fight each other for succession."

"So what happens now?" Joff asked.

Coursa drummed her fingers on the table. "Now I need a laird who needs help. A laird with ambition."

"Laird Telamon," Alban said immediately. "His cousin is one of the men I poisoned. He had long schemed for his own holding and it is rumored that his ambitions rival Tomkin's."

"Joff," Coursa said. "Write a letter to Telamon. Tell him I am interested in supporting him. Tell him I think it's time The Holdings had a king. Have it ready by tomorrow for Eduard and Eli to deliver."

"But we just . . ." Eli began. Everyone at the table looked at him. Their expressions ranged from Alban's concerned look and subtle headshake to Coursa's glare that threatened murder. "Tomorrow, then," he finished in a quiet voice.

When the others had gone, Coursa got out bottle of ink, a few quills, and some sheets of paper. Joff tapped the dry quill on the paper. He could read several languages, had read hundreds of books, was possibly the best reader and translator in all of The Holdings. For all his reading talent, he had never learned to compose worth a damn.

_To the Honorable Telamon, Laird of Zohershire,_ the letter began. _Recent events have thrown The Holdings into chaos. The situation is dangerous to all. With our leadership in disarray we are vulnerable to goblin raids and perhaps even assault from the Sorenians or some such enemy. This peril will be lifted only when peace between lairds and shires is achieved. The situations reveals the vulnerabilities of our disorganized ways._ Joff paused as he tried to think of what to say next. What was the proper way to inform a laird that he was going to be the next king? Joff startled when he felt hands on his shoulders, but he relaxed as Coursa began to massage away the tension.

"Just write. It'll be perfect."

Joff took her hand and kissed it. She leaned over and kissed his cheek. Her hair was tied under a bandana and Joff regretted that. He liked the feel of her hair on him.

_The Holdings need a strong king who is aware of the political realities of this great land,_ the letter continued. _To that end, Mistress Coursa, whose reputation and resources are well known, has seen fit to support you in your efforts to expand your noble reach. The mistress respectfully requests a meeting with your lairdship for the purpose of establishing a plan to this end. The messenger who brings this letter will lead you to a place of meeting._

The sanction of Coursa carries no official weight. This you know. But her support can ensure that your enemies face a long series of misfortunes while your court becomes very dangerous for any who plot against you. Coursa is sometimes called the Queen of Rogues. She will be a more formidable ally than any laird or combination of lairds in The Holdings.

Should you choose to accept, simply accompany the messenger on his return journey. Your ambition and progress have been noted and we will continue to watch with interest and admiration. Truly, you are a man that even rogues will bow to.

_Regards,_ Joff paused again to consider how he wanted to sign the letter. Laird Telamon had probably never heard him. Joff shrugged and wrote _Joff the Scirbe_. Joff blew on the ink to dry it and looked over his letter.

"All finished?" Coursa asked as she filled his tea cup.

"Yes. Would you like me to read it to you?"

Coursa smiled and picked up the paper. After scanning it for a few minutes, she said, "It looks good. Your penmanship needs work." She smiled at his expression. "Did ya' think I didn't have none of that book learnin'," Coursa drawled in an exaggerated rustic accent.

"Well, it's just that you're very busy, between robbing the lairds blind, killing them, and seducing men a third of your age."

Coursa smiled and set the paper down. "You may be well read," she whispered into his ear. "But you cannot imagine what I know."

Her breath in his ear made Joff shudder. "Show me," he said.

Eduard and Eli left the next day. Alban stayed in one of the spare rooms of the cottage and mostly kept to kimself. More of Coursa's relatives returned in the following days and confirmed what Eduard had already reported. No actual wars had broken out in the turmoil, but poison was the flavor of the month among most of the nobility, and hunting accidents, suicides, and various other mishaps happened with alarming frequency. The situation seemed to change with each new arrival. Every one of them brought news of another laird who had died, another throne left vacant for a gang of relatives to brawl over.

A full week passed before Eli returned with the announcement that Laird Telamon had accepted Coursa's invitation and would be along in few days. Joff helped her clean out the stables while Alban all but took over the cottage, cleaning, organizing, and preparing a menu for Telamon's arrival. Eli was quickly put to work as a messenger to Coursa's closer relatives. He was to bring food and decoration from those who had them and to make sure that all those able to fight waited in the woods near the cottage. Should the meeting go badly and Telamon turn beligerant, Coursa would be ready.

Everything seemed only half done when Jason, Coursa's blacksmith grandson, came riding up to the cottage on a donkey. Jason reported that Laird Telamon had entered the forest and would arrive within the hour. Jason also brought eight crossbows and a large bag of bolts. These were distributed to the relatives who waited in the woods.

Coursa let her hair down and Jain helped her style it into the long, lavish curls that Jain so admired. Then Joff, Coursa, and five of Coursa's cleaner associates went outside to wait for his lairdship's arrival. Coursa wore a blue dress with long loose sleeves and high neckline. The dress revealed nothing save her head and hands, but it did fit snugly at the waist to showcase her lean figure. She was the only one in her group who was not armed. Joff had his short sword and a dagger provided by Coursa. Jain, the only other female in the group, wore a sword on her hip, as did the other men.

A rider on fine white pony trotted into the clearing. He was a youth of about thirteen and carried no weapons, only a pole with the snake and eagle banner of Laird Telamon. "Laird Telamon approaches," the rider said.

"Thank you, herald," Coursa said. "Tell your laird that he is welcomed as a friend. There is a stable in the back of the house for his horses. And food inside for him."

The rider nodded and wheeled his mount without saying a word.

"Friendly fellow," Joff quipped.

"Nobles," Jain said distastefully.

A few minutes later the rider reappeared. This time he sat very straight in the saddle and moved his horse at a walk. Behind him rode two soldiers. They wore no armor, but their horses were large, sturdy battle stallions and each man had a sword on his belt and a shield ready on the saddle. Both of them wore tabards decorated with the snake and eagle. Behind them rode three men. To Coursa's right was Eduard, looking a bit confused about riding in procession. To Coursa's left rode a middle aged man with brown hair going grey at the temples. He wore the shrewd, slightly constipated expression common to all stewards. Between these two rode a man about Joff's age or perhaps a little younger. His horse was the same beautiful white of the pony, but the horse was larger than any of the others and muscled like an ox. This was, this could only be, a laird. Telamon sat perfectly straight in the saddle. He was tall but very lean with wiry muscles suited to swift action. His clean shaven face had a slightly boyish look but the dark eyes scanned everything with the calculation of an aspiring king. The two stout soldiers riding horses behind him looked humble and petite by comparison.

"Halt!" Telamon called abruptly. The group halted. Telamon urged his horse forward, around his men, and toward the cottage until he looked down at Coursa. "You are Coursa, the cause of all the fear and chaos in the land."

Joff desperately wanted to point out that it was, in fact the utter incompetence of the various lairds that caused the fear and chaos in the land. But he knew that it was not his time. He looked past the laird, at nothing in particular, and remained silent.

"And you are the man who seeks to gain by it," Coursa said evenly. "Come, receive the hospitality of my home and we will discuss the days ahead and how we might help each other."

The steward rode forward. "The laird needs no help from peasants."

Coursa grinned. "Anyone who wants to leave this forest needs my help. But it won't come to that. Come, we will eat and plan for a better future."

"You are most gracious," Telamon said to Coursa. "I will not trouble your fine home with my soldiers. They have provisions and tents and will camp outside." He turned to the steward. "Reginald, we are guests in this shire and at this house. You will show proper respect."

Reginald blinked a few times. "Yes, my lord. Forgive me, mistress. There are those who have sought to imply that there some problem with my lord's elevation."

Telamon laughed at that. "A true steward. Intelligent, organized, and without a hint of charm." He dismounted and his companions all did the same. One of the soldiers took his horse and followed Eduard to the back of the cottage and the stables.

Jain and one of the men went into the cottage and began setting out plates and cups.

"Will you dine with us?" Coursa asked. "Our fare is humble, but it's hearty."

Telamon inclined his head. "I am famished. Your hospitality is appreciated."

They ate and made small talk. When the meal was finished, Telamon said, "So what arrangement did you have in mind?"

"Put the kettle on, would you," Coursa said to one of her grandsons. "My lord, my plan is simple. You have a holding and soldiers. I have people in every holding. I can make your enemies disappear, or bring you their plans, or tell you the secret ways into and out of their castles." She leaned forward, her expression stern and her eyes wide and fiery. "I can make you a king."

Telamon laughed wryly as he leaned back. "That is quite an offer."

"What do you want for it?" Reginald asked. "Money?"

"Oh, come on," Joff said, finally unable to resist the urge to talk out of turn. "Money? Really? She just wiped out half the nobility in a week and you think she's after money? That would be like . . ."

"Joff," Coursa said. He fell silent and looked at the table.

Telamon smiled. "Are you the scribe?"

Joff nodded. "I am."

"That was a good letter." Telamon looked at Coursa. "So what do you want in return for the crown?"

"I want you to know who put you in power, and who can remove you," Coursa replied. "And I want you to marry one of my granddaughters. It'll be a fine gesture, the new king marrying a commoner."

Telamon nodded in Jain's direction. "That granddaughter?"

Coursa looked at Jain, then back at Telamon. "She's not my granddaughter." Coursa tapped her finger on the table. "But . . . Would you like to be queen, Jain?"

"Um . . . no. Thank you."

"So we find a granddaughter of yours for me to marry," Telamon said. "And I look the other way while your family quietly runs my kingdom. Is there anything else?"

"That should suffice," Coursa replied.

"It's a bold offer," Reginald said. "We know where your cottage is. Would it not serve my lord better to simply capture you and deliver you to the lairds?"

"That won't get him a crown," Joff replied. "Mostly what it'll get him is a knife in the back." Joff raised a hand to forestall the steward's protest. "Even if he avoided that, there is nothing about Coursa that would cause the lairds or the peasants to unite on account of her death. She is something of a legend among the lower classes in the City of Books. Her death might actually cause a backlash against whoever killed her."

"Don't pretend you're going to pass this up," Coursa said to Telamon. "I'm offering you more power than any laird has held since the time of Adara, and you are an ambitious man, my lord."

"That I am. I am afraid the marriage is out of the question. Laird Lernen of Weshire has already offered me his daughter's hand." Telamon's right eye twitched. "By all the gods, she's ugly," he muttered. Telamon shook his head, snapping himself out of it. "I need Lernen's support. He protects my eastern flank and he has almost as many men as I do. I can promise to ennoble your descendants to replace any lairds who oppose me. That will give your family legitimate authority and the opportunity to arrange to marry into the royal line later on."

Laird's wielded near absolute power over their shires, and probably would continue to do so even if there was a king. The Holdings were too wild and the terrain to rough and varied for centralized government to be very successful. With a few of her children and grandchildren as lairds Coursa could all but rule as a bandit queen while Telamon dealt with the petty squabbles and feuds of courtly life. "I think we have an accord," Coursa said.

"I am sorry to speak out of turn, my lord," Reginald said in a tone that lacked remorse of any kind. "But I believe we are forgetting the Council of Augurs. They have not advocated for a king since the death of King Cyrus." King Cyrus, the last king of The Holdings, had died without an heir when Adara crushed his army. "They will oppose you, if only for fear that you may limit their power."

"Pardon me," Joff said. "But it is not for the Council to stop him. It is the Council of Lairds that votes to elect a king."

"I am aware of the law," Reginald said. "But we cannot ignore the influence the augurs have with the lairds and with the peasants. If they throw in behind one of my lord's enemies, Laird Guilliam, let's say, then many will flock to his banner."

"My steward makes a compelling point. I cannot wage war against gods and men together. And the reach of Coursa is long indeed if she can risk invoking the ire of the augurs."

"If the augurs will not support you, then perhaps the Sorenians will," Joff said.

All eyes turned to him in shock. Even Coursa, who always seemed to know everything the world had in store before it did, looked taken aback. "I think," Telamon said slowly, "that you had better explain that, because it sounded like you were proposing treason."

"Not at all," Joff said casually. "I was merely suggesting that if the augurs oppose the unification of our country then perhaps the Sorenians would support the ascension of a king."

"They would only support an Adaran," Reginald said.

Joff nodded.

"You are saying I should convert?" Telamon said.

"No," Joff answered patiently. "I'm saying you should threaten to convert. Zoher is fortified and you have a mighty castle. Those defenses have long held the Sorenians off. But if Zohershire turned to the Adarans then the Sorenians could enter this country unopposed and they would have a stronghold to fight from. There is nothing between your castle and the City of Books. But the Sorenians wouldn't need to hurry about it. They could take their time plundering Luishire, since the defences are all on the western border by the Goblin Hills. Weshire has a strong castle, but no. . ."

"Joff," Coursa said.

He fell silent.

Telamon looked from Joff to Coursa with a quizzical expression. The old woman had some kind of hold over this brilliant, rambling scribe that gave her his insight and loyalty with absolute obedience. Telamon would have wanted an alliance with Coursa for the chance to study her gift for wielding power even if she had nothing else to offer. "You make an excellent point, master scribe. We will discuss things further in the days to come. I am not ready to claim the throne just yet. With careful planning I believe we can expand my influence. We will move when the time is right."

More lairds died over the next few months. Some fell ill while others had accidents and a few were blatantly murdered. The deaths lacked the randomness of the previous round of noble expirations. The lairds of Luishire suffered particularly, until there was no one left of Tomkin's bloodline to claim lairdship. By a happy accident Lernen and Telamon had their men training together near the Luishire border when news reached them of the newest laird's death. They marched their combined forces into Luishire and occupied the castle.

The following day a rider approached the castle. He sat tall and straight on his mount and his large, brown eyes took in everything he saw with intelligence and intensity. The guards at the gate let him in and a stable boy took his horse.

"I am Tefir," the man said to a guard at the entrance to the laird's throne room.

The guard nodded and opened the door. He banged the butt of his spear on the flagstones and said, "Tefir, grandson of Travin, seeks audience."

Telamon and Lernen sat at a small table in the middle of the room, playing a board game. Lernen was a grey haired, middle aged man with a prominent belly and the reserved, dignified bearing of someone who has spent a lot of time looking important while other people talked. An augur stood nearby, waiting silently next to Reginald. He had long blond hair and the build of a warrior, though he carried no weapons. A few soldiers stood at ease around the room. Telamon smiled and looked away from the game that he had been about to lose. "It is granted."

Tefir entered the chamber and bowed.

"Arise," Telamon said. "What brings you here?"

"I come to claim what is mine," Tefir said. "I am grandson to Travin, nephew to Tomkin, and rightful heir to his lairdship."

The augur looked from Tefir to Telamon with wide eyes but did not say anything.

"What say you, Lernen?" Telamon asked. "Does this man look like a rightful heir to Tomkin's line?"

"The resemblance is uncanny," Lernen said without looking up from the board.

"Approach and take a knee," Telamon said. Tefir walked to the table and knelt. Telamon touched him on the shoulder. "I name you Sir Tefir, Laird of Luishire. Rise, my lord."

"My lords!" the augur said indignantly. Reginald grabbed him by the elbow and coaxed him toward a side door. The augur was larger and stronger, but two soldiers approached quickly and he did not struggle. Reginald walked him through the castle and out into its garden. Flowers had once bloomed in abundance there but in the turmoil of the last few months everything had been allowed to wilt. "What is this farce?" the augur asked.

"Telamon has need of a laird here," Reginald explained calmly. "Tefir's claim is legitimate, I swear it. He is a child of a bastard of Travin. Telamon knew this ahead of time."

"The Council of Lairds . . ."

"Is in chaos," Reginald interrupted in the same calm tone. "Two lairds have certified Tefir's claim. He is now the laird. If you agree to this then my lords Tomkin, Lernen, and Tefir will be pleased. If you create trouble then they will be disappointed."

The augur stepped back and ran a hand through his hair. "What strange days we live in."

Reginald smiled mirthlessly. "You have no idea."

In the following weeks Tefir's ascension drew protest from the other nobles. Especially vocal about it was Alerick, the son of Edvis and nephew of Tomkin. Alerick demanded that the Council of Lairds meet to approve any new ascensions, especially of anyone who was not a noble.

Candle after candle burned down as Joff worked feverishly drafting Telamon's letters to the other lairds explaining the need for steadier leadership and more decisive action to stop the chaos that seemed to define The Holdings. A typical letter read:

To the attention of Laird Dmitri, son of Grishka, Laird of Cainshire,

We hope that our correspondence finds my lord in good health and good times. My lord is no doubt aware of the chaos that has recently gripped The Holdings and of the untimely death of the former laird of Luishire. We saw fit to rectify the situation by supporting the ascension of Master Tefir, now Laird Tefir of Luishire. Our decision was made in the presence and with the full support of my lord Lernen of Weshire.

Our intention is to restore order to The Holdings with the greatest possible speed. A meeting of the Council of Lairds would have taken time, time we could ill afford given the general disorder among the nobility. Laird Tefir's ascension and close alliance with us and with Laird Lernen will assure a stronger rule, one in which neighbors work together to prevent the ill fortune that has claimed the lives of too many lairds of late. Lairds who join us will have their security assured. To continue to operate alone is to risk continued turmoil and none of us wants that.

It is our hope that you, my lord, will see fit to support the ascension of our newest brother noble. We feel that you are a brave and wise laird who will move forward with us in our quest to bring lasting peace, security, and stability to this land. We will await your reply,

Best regards,

Laird Telamon, Laird of Zohershire, Defender of the Land

Joff set the quill down and blew on the paper. Most of the letter had come directly from Telamon but Joff had added a few touches to get the message across more clearly. Royalty referred to themselves in the first person plural. By using "we" and "us" in the letter Telamon could either be referring to himself as king or simply alluding to his agreement with Lernen and Tefir. "Protector of the Realm" had been one of the monikers associated with the kings of The Holdings in ages past. "Defender of the Land" could simply refer to Telamon's duties to defend Zohershire or it could refer to his shire's position as the bulwark against Sorenian invasion. Telamon could not have been more obvious if he held a formal coronation. It could not have been harder to prove his intentions if he had taken up plow and started farming.

As pleased as he was with himself, Joff felt a bit said. He had left Coursa in her cottage so that he could go and coordinate Telamon's ascension. Joff was not alone. Coursa had agents among Telamon's servants and soldiers, people the laird did not know about. But Joff wanted friends to sit with and he wanted the woman he loved. After years of relative solitude, Joff the Scribe found that he dearly wanted human companionship.

"Why so glum?" Telamon asked as he walked into the study where Joff worked. Joff never closed the door. To do so might arouse suspicion.

Joff looked up and smiled politely. "Lost in thought, my lord. I have your letter."

"Read it to me," Telamon said as he walked to the window. Telamon could write his own name, with difficulty, but that seemed to be the extent of his ability with letters. Joff read what he hoped would be the final draft of the letter. When he had finished, Telamon turned back to face him. "It is a good letter, just like all the others you have written."

"Thank you, my lord."

Telamon pulled a chair up and sat across from Joff. "Tell me, Master Scribe, how does a rogue employ the services of one such as yourself? The only scribes I have ever been able to find are augurs. They are neither very clever nor very creative."

"It's a long story. The short version is that Coursa sought me out for my talents and gave me more than my previous life offered. I had the choice of going back to the City of Books to live out my days as a cripple writing translations or starting a new life as a rogue scholar. The first choice would have meant poverty and was, quite frankly, boring. I couldn't tell you how many books on . . ."

"Come to the point, man," Telamon said.

"My old life was dull and unrewarding," Joff said patiently. "My new life is full of adventure. You could not imagine the texts I have seen. Now I'm helping the next king."

"It was your choice to stay with Coursa," Telamon said evenly.

Joff nodded.

"And it would be your choice to leave, should you so desire."

Joff nodded again.

"You're completely free." With that, Laird Telamon rose and left. Joff wondered how a man with his physical limitations could be considered completely free, and if Telamon thought of himself as free. Such questions, the scribe knew, had troubled philosophers since time out of mind. Joff was free to work for Coursa or to go back to life that, in retrospect, was one of misery. Telamon was free to ascend in power and rank or to be killed in the convulsive turmoil into which Coursa had plunged The Holdings. In their own ways they were both as bound as any tenant though Joff guessed that many tenants would be thrilled to have the problems either of them faced.

Two of the lairds Joff wrote to answered that they would fully support the ascension of Tefir. They both had holdings bordering Weshire and both came from families that had long been enemies of Tomkin. Eight more lairds wrote that they would take no action in regard to Tefir, essentially stating their neutrality in the matter. That left seven lairds with seven shires and enough men to significantly outnumber Telamon and his allies should it come to war. They all signed their names to a letter that read as follows:

To lairds Telamon and Lernen,

It was with great dismay that we, the undersigned lairds, learned of your attempt to ascend a peasant of uncertain lineage and dubious claim to a position of distinction and nobility. It is well established that the Council of Lairds, with the blessing of the Council of Augurs, decides such things. Those rules have been waived in recent times due to these extraordinarily chaotic times. The waivers have been allowable due to the presence of strong candidates acceptable to the other lairds and the necessity to maintain order.

The death of the laird of Luishire left a situation which you satisfactorily filled with your presence in that shire. Though it is questionable how my lords had their armies ready at the exact moment of the laird's death, such things are not for us to question at this time. You could have and should have simply held the shire until the next laird could be properly selected. Instead you acted in the manner of self appointed kings in apparent disregard of our laws and traditions

We, the undersigned lairds find this unacceptable. We demand that you denounce the lairdship of Tefir. If he wishes to present his candidacy to a full council then he may do so. Failure to do as has been asked will result in Tefir and all who support him being labeled as traitors to the realm. We will await your reply.

The document was signed by the seven lairds, with Alerick's name first among them and written the largest. A knot formed in Joff's stomach as he finished reading. He briefly wondered how long it would take him to get out of The Holdings if he went to the stables, got on his horse, and pointed it at Sorena.

"They will be assembling their armies now," Reginald said to Telamon. The two of them stood with the blond augur, whose name was Gregoire, and Lairds Tefir and Lernen in the throne room.

"We will be outnumbered," Tefir said. "Five shires to their seven, and theirs were not troubled as much by the Rephaim."

"Compose a message to our allies," Telamon said. "Tell them to come quickly. I want them to bring men at arms only. No peasant conscripts. We will organize here, at this castle and march out to meet Alerick."

"My lord, that is suicide," Reginald said.

"It's also the strategy that Laird Oliver used to defeat the Sorenians," Joff said. "A small, elite army can often defeat a larger one."

"You recommend this?" Tefir asked.

"Yes, my lord," Joff said. "Your army will be faster and easier to control than that of your enemies. Even if you are not victorious you may inflict great slaughter. The other lairds will be slow to challenge you after that."

Lernen gave Joff an appraising look. "I need to hire a scribe. This man is quite useful."
Chapter 15

Telamon had two hundred soldiers, Lernen one hundred, and Tefir eighty. Telamon and Lernen both sent back to their castles for their battle chariots, which they assured Tefir would arrive within a few days. Laird Tefir spent much of his time riding around the clear grounds beyond the castle on the chariot he had inherited from the previous laird.

Racks for holding javelins lined either side of the chariot. It could hold six in all. The driver stood at the very front of the coach and the laird riding could move about in the small space behind the driver. Curved blades stuck out from the wheels, promising mangled legs to any horse or man who got close enough. A team of six mighty stallions pulled the chariot and the weight of their charge alone could cause havoc among men on foot.

The driver coaxed the horses along at a steady trot while Tefir pitched back on forth in the coach. He had been raised a peasant and thus had never learned to ride such a conveyance. The weight of his ill-fitting chainmail did not help.

"It's like watching a cat trying to ride a bull," Gregoire said as he and Joff observed the laird from the castle wall.

"Why don't they just put six men on the horses and have them charge with swords?" Joff asked.

"Because that would not glorify the lairds, my friend," Gregoire said. "You remember _Atlatl's Abdication_ , I trust."

Joff nodded. The book was required reading at the Academy. The book told the story of when the gods had tired of the shiftlessness of humans and gone off to form their own kingdom of Paradise. Humans had fallen into utter ruin and despair until the nobles, descendants of the gods, had risen to lead them. Even the augurs quietly admitted that this fiction was meant to convey a message to the peasantry about their proper place rather than tell the story of anything that had ever actually happened. It was also a reminder to the nobility that they must appear godlike at all times lest the peasants think to do without them.

Tefir threw a spear at one of the man-shaped targets ranged around the field. The spear landed several feet from the target and Tefir only saved himself from falling out of the chariot by grabbing the rail at the last minute. Tefir continued to practice for hours, until midday when Laird Roscoe and Laird Heath arrived at the heads of their respective armies.

Those armies camped around the castle that night. The two lairds had brought just over three hundred men at arms, to bring the combined force to almost seven hundred, not counting the men and women who followed the army to serve its needs outside of combat. In addition to the men at arms who were all armed with shields, spears, and swords and wore steel helmets and chainmail shirts, about a hundred archers had arrived from the five allied shires. Telamon armed them with crossbows made by Coursa's grandson Jason with the help of Telamon and Lernen's various craftsmen. The next day the chariots arrived and the army was ready to go.

The lairds and their advisors all met in council while their officers organized the troops to move out. "Where are we going?" Laird Roscoe, a lad of about sixteen who already had the tough, muscular build of a veteran soldier, asked.

"We march on Alerick's castle," Telamon replied. "Right into his teeth. Make sure your men do not harass the peasants. I have some friends in Tamshire and I do not want to antagonize them."

"I have heard of your friends," Laird Heath, a slender, almost effeminate man in his thirties said. "It is said that you are aided by Coursa the Rogue."

"Do you believe that?" Telamon asked.

"Yes," Heath replied immediately.

"And you came anyway?"

"Yes."

Telamon nodded. "Good. I am trying to bring order to our land. If an alliance with Coursa accomplishes that then so be it." He nodded to Joff. "Her scribe has been a great help to me. Her blacksmith made the crossbows that our archers now carry."

"Tomkin sought kingship," Heath said. "Look where it got him."

"Tomkin was a fool," Joff said. "He brought this chaos on us. Telamon has the wisdom to end it."

"Joff is right," Telamon said. "We will be outnumbered in this battle but if we survive it then we need only remain united. The other lairds will fall to fighting among themselves, as they always do. Some of them will come to us with time. We can whittle away Alerick's forces and his support."

"And then you will be king," Heath said. His tone that did not indicate that he found the prospect especially pleasing.

Telamon nodded. "And I will remember those who helped me. I swear it."

"He speaks truly," Tefir said. "My claim to my title is legitimate, but that is not the only reason Telamon helped me. Coursa wanted me to have this title. It was in repayment for her help that I was awarded my shire."

"And there will be more rewards to give out when my enemies are dead and the crown is mine," Telamon said. "So, are you ready to make history with me?"

"And why should we trust this Coursa?" Heath asked. "I know of her. She has plotted and schemed and murdered and stolen for decades. She is loyal to no one. Is this who you put your faith in?"

"This," Telamon said, raising a hand toward Tefir. "Is Coursa's grandson. And this," he raised his other hand toward Joff. "Is her valued scribe and her lover, if I'm not mistaken."

"You're not," Joff said, pointedly not looking anyone in the eye.

"They are the same age," Heath observed.

"She is a very vibrant woman in her maturity," Telamon said hurriedly. "My point is that these men are both special to her, ready for us to cut them down at the first hint of betrayal. Besides, Coursa has as much to gain from our victory as either of you do."

Heath and Roscoe looked at each other. Neither of them looked especially convinced but neither seemed ready to argue, either. They expressed their support in less than enthusiastic terms. Telamon saw them and Lernen out of the room with instructions to be ready to march in the morning. This left Telamon, Tefir, Gregoire, Reginald, and Joff in the room. An awkward silence fell over the group. Telamon looked at Gregoire.

"I shall go and make prayers for your victory," Gregoire said.

Telamon's gaze next turned to Tefir.

"I . . . need to get more practice on the chariot. I take my leave."

When Tefir and Gregoire had gone, Telamon smiled. "That's better."

Joff had been expecting a similar dismissal and was surprised when he did not get one. "Is there something I can do for you my lord?"

"What are your plans, master scribe?" Telamon asked.

Joff guessed that whatever his plans were, they did not really matter. He had wanted to go back to Coursa. "What is your pleasure, my lord?"

Telamon took a moment to answer, noting the way Joff dodged the question. When he spoke, he did so in his most official tones. "It is my wish that you accompany us into Luishire. I have just told my allies that your presence is proof of Coursa's sincere good will. It would look bad for you to leave. I also think that your tactical knowledge might prove valuable. I know of your condition and I will not ask you to do any fighting. I require only your presence and your council."

The warmth of Coursa's cottage grew distant in Joff's mind. He nodded. "You shall have them. I will stay with you for the battle and for any help you need sorting out the legalities of your ascension. Then I'll take my leave."

"Boldly spoken, peasant," Reginald said.

Telamon turned and sneered. "Mind how you speak. This is no barefoot farmer, nor any common rogue." Telamon pointed to Joff. "I need him." He turned his gaze back to the scribe. "There will be a place in my court for a man of your talents. But if it is your wish to go then I will not stop you. Now take food and rest. The journey will be brief but perilous. I expect Coursa will exact a high price if I return you in worse condition than I got you."
Chapter 16

The lairds rode in their chariots near the front of the army while their stewards, augurs, and one scribe rode behind on horseback. The men followed on foot and the wagon train stretched out of sight behind them. A two day march would take them into the heart of Tamshire, home and domain of Laird Alerick.

The stewards talked politics while the augurs talked about religion. Joff quickly learned that neither group was especially well read on the subjects they discussed. When he tried to break in on their conversations they just gave him strange looks and seemed not to understand, so he soon stopped trying to talk to them. Jason was at the rear of the army along with the other craftsman and Joff knew that Coursa had other relatives in the army, their relationships to her disguised. Even if Joff knew who any of them were, he could not strike up a conversation. To do so would be to expose them.

So Joff rode with his own thoughts as his companions. Hills and fields passed in at an achingly slow pace. When they made camp Joff thought only of his time in the company of Coursa and her clan. They had given him everything he had not been able to find at the Academy or among his own kin: acceptance, patience, and understanding. Joff dearly wanted to get on his horse and ride back to her but he knew that to do so would be to leave his job half done. Telamon had a battle to fight and the would-be king thought Joff's presence would help. Coursa clearly wanted The Holdings to have a king and she wanted that king to be Telamon. All of this made Joff's duties clear.

The next day they crossed the border into Tamshire, which was marked by a white stone placed next to the road. The men grew increasingly quiet and tense and even the stewards and augurs ceased their conversations. Reginald sent men on horseback to scout ahead for possible ambush. After a while they came to a village and Telamon called Joff to the front.

It was difficult for Joff to keep his horse close enough to the chariot to have a conversation but far enough that the slowly spinning blades on the wheel would not catch the horse's legs.

"What do you notice about that village?" Telamon asked.

Joff looked at the village. It looked exactly every other village he had ever seen: a cluster of cottage surrounded by acres and acres of farmland. "I don't see anything special, my lord."

"What people do you see, scribe?"

Joff squinted. A life of reading books had not made his eyes especially suitable for looking across distances farther than the distance between his eyes and the page. "A lot of children. There are some women . . . there's an old man." Joff squinted harder. "There's not a man older than fourteen and younger than fifty, not as I can see. Alerick's already conscripted."

Telamon nodded grimly. "He never intended to negotiate."

"In fairness, my lord, neither did you."

"Please keep your insights relevant as much as that is possible, master scribe."

"Yes, my lord," Joff said contritely.

A soldier with a red horsehair plume on his helmet rode up alongside Joff. "My lord," the soldier said to Telamon. "Some of the men are asking if we will requisition supplies here" By "requisition" he meant "steal everything that can be carried off."

"No," Telamon said. "This village is not to be troubled. Any man who disobeys will answer to me personally."

The soldier kept his expression neutral. "Yes, my lord. I take my leave." He wheeled his horse and rode back.

Telamon did not look at Joff or say anything to him, but neither did he dismiss the scribe. Joff solved the dilemma by very gently tugging his horse's reins so that the horse move a little slower than the laird's chariot and Joff gradually fell back in the ranks. He contemplated allowing himself to fall back until he was somewhere behind the baggage train and then turning and going home, but once again Joff remembered his duty.

Late in the afternoon the chariots crested a hill and Telamon called for the army to halt. Joff and the advisors rode to the front and looked out over a hilly landscape. A castle of grey stone stood on a distant hill and the dark mass of an army moved on the hills in front of it. Telamon pointed to a low hill facing a bigger one. "We will take up our position there. Tell the men to be prepared for battle in the morning."

"My lord," Heath called from his own chariot. "Would it not be wiser to position our men on one of the larger hills?"

"No," Telamon replied. "With the number and equipment of our forces we will be better served to fight from the lower hill. Would you not agree, Master Joff?"

Joff had gotten so used to being called "scribe" that it took him a moment to realize that Telamon was talking to him. "Yes, my lord."

While Telamon's forces advanced to the hill he had chosen, the opposing army moved to the hill facing and made their camp there. Joff looked up at the camp and imagined Laird Alerick and his allies looking down at Telamon's disposition in confusion and with some apprehension. The would-be king was obviously up to something but none of them knew quite what. They had the larger army and Telamon had not chosen the most defensible ground in the area, though attack was out of the question for him, given the inferior size of his force. They did not know what he was up to and that would make them nervous.

Alerick ordered all of his gear, his javelins, his fighting spear, his sword, his armor, and his chariot checked. Whatever Telamon had planned, Alerick would be ready. His blacksmith went to work on the weapons and armor while his groom started checking the horse's shoes and brushing their fine coats. A carpenter who had come into Alerick's service some weeks earlier brought his tools and began to see to the chariot. Joff imagained all of this, but he could not have imagined Alerick's conversation, or who he had it with.

"Check the other chariots when you are finished with mine, Eduard," Alerick said.

Eduard touched his hand to his forelock in salute. "Yes, my lord. It will be my pleasure."

The next morning Telamon ranged his soldiers about halfway up the hill with the chariots and advisors at the summit and the baggage train at the back of the hill.

Alerick ordered his own men to advance steadily to the base of the hill they held. Caution dictated that Alerick should use his archers to wear down Telamon's forces instead of sending his mean charging into whatever trap the would-be king had planned. The professional soldiers, with their tall, broad shields, helmets, and chainmail shirts whould advance first. The peasants with their axes, hayforks, and other crude weapons would advance behind and thus be there to reinforce the soldiers without being slaughtered by Telamon's archers.

The chariots stood in line at the top of Alerick's hill where the carpenter had left them, the horses now hitched and the javelins loaded. All seven lairds wore armor of smooth metal plate that would easily turn aside a spear or an arrow. Such armor would be far too expensive to provide to every soldier, but lairds got only the best. Each laird had his own magnificent chariot and their charge would end the battle, whether it was needed or not. A laird and his chariot were the ultimate symbol of power in The Holdings and that would not change, whatever the particular needs of this battle dictated.

"Make ready the archers," Telamon said when he saw Alerick's soldiers advancing. "What do you make of Alerick's strategy, Master Joff?"

Joff cleared his throat. "His soldiers are advancing first. The peasant conscripts are behind. The soldiers are meant to stop whatever arrows and spears come their way with their shields. When the battle begins in earnest, the peasants will be a buffer in case the soldiers' line breaks. If the soldiers break our line then the charge of the peasants will ensure that is stays broken. Alerick appears to be keeping the chariots in reserve. I believe he plans . . ."

"Well spoken," Telamon said abruptly.

"The archers are ready, my lord!" a soldier with a plumed helmet called from further down the hill.

"Wait for my order," Telamon replied. "Master Joff, I cannot help but notice that you have no armor."

Joff waited for Telamon to say something else. The comment had been accurate, though not overly insightful. Joff wore a dun colored tunic, brown leather gloves, and black trousers and boots. Any fool could see that he had no armor. "No, my lord," he finally said.

"I am confident that we could find a helmet and a mail shirt for you," Telamon said.

"Most gracious, my lord, but no. My condition renders me too weak for armor."

"You carry a sword," Reginald said from Telamon's other side. The driver of Telamon's chariot snickered.

"And a dagger," Joff confirmed. "Mostly on principal."

Alerick's soldiers were nearing the base of their hill. The first of the mob of peasants followed a few yards behind the last of the soldiers. Reginald speculated that there were around a thousand soldiers and at least that many peasants. A good charioteer, the steward quipped, could send the entirety of the peasant force running. It was not that peasants lacked courage, it was simply that without armor or proper weapons they were at best support and at worst a liability to the professional soldiers.

"Let us relieve Alerick of some of that liability," Telamon said. "Sergeant! Order the archers to angle their weapons up and shoot over the soldiers."

The sergeant nodded and relayed the order. A hundred crossbows tilted skyward and let fly. Alerick's soldiers stopped and held up their shields to form a solid wall of wood through which no arrow could penetrate. The bolts breezed over the barrier and into the ranks of the peasants. Some of the bolts struck heads or chests and the men so wounded fell and died instantly. Others struck arms, shoulders, stomachs, and other, less immediately fatal places. Those so wounded had to limp or be carried back through the lines. This gave their fellows a clear view of what was coming. The peasants began to talk about what strange new weapon could wound a man from such a distance and panic spread like a disease through them. The second volley struck and more peasants fell. Now some of those not wounded began to openly back away and many looked around for somewhere to run.

Alerick saw this, saw the peasant formation threatening to crumble, and cursed. If the peasants fled then the soldiers would be demoralized. A single, clever move by Telamon would be all the was need to roll up Alerick's soldiers and end the battle before the seven lairds with their chariots could arrive to salvage it. Even if Aerick won, there would be no peasants there to witness his triumphal moment and tell the story. Any laird worth his chariot knew that this was half the point of battle; to show off one's glorious might and remind the peasantry of their place. He gave the order for the infantry to charge.

The sergeants repeated the order and both peasants and soldiers rushed forward. Those peasants who had been having second thoughts were jostled and shoved by the others until they too surged forward. A third crossbow volley took even more peasants than the previous two had, but it did not matter. The momentum of the charge kept even the terrified moving forward.

"Final volley," Telamon called. "Aim low."

Telamon's infantry knelt and the crossbowmen fired, not at the peasants, but this time at Alerick's soldiers and specifically at the soldiers' feet. Many of the bolts struck dirt or caught the bottom edges of shields but a foot pierced boots or shins. Men stumbled and fell and others stepped on or awkwardly over them. The overall effect was to create several gaps in Alerick's line and to make it easier for Telamon's men to cut down the first of their enemies to reach them.

"Let us advance and make ready," Telamon called to the other lairds. The drivers of the five chariots urged the horses forward at a walk. Each laird took up a javelin and stood in a stern, meaningful pose. The advisors followed on their horses. Joff wished he had something useful to do. His only role now was to stand on the sidelines, quietly supporting the future king with whatever authority a disabled rogue scholar could wield.

Alerick's infantry pressed against Telamon's. Men at the back ranks of both forces flung javelins over the heads of those in front. The tactic was more effective when Telamon's men did it, as they occasionally hit the unarmored peasants. Telamon's men fought bravely but the line buckled under the sheer weight of advancing enemy. The would-be king ordered his chariot driver to charge into the breach.

The chariot rumbled forward. Telamon flung a javelin that bounced harmlessly off the shield of an enemy soldier. The soldiers flung their own javelins or jabbed them at the advancing horses. One of the lead horses collapses, bleeding from garish wounds on its neck and shoulder, and the other balked. The soldiers pressed in, killing the other horses and advancing on the chariot itself. A javelin took the driver in the throat and he toppled backward off the chariot and into the dust. Telamon drew his sword, a mighty two hander, and split the skull of a soldier trying to climb onto the chariot.

Joff saw what was happening and knew that, unless Telamon got help, the battle was over. The other lairds and several of the advisors had already moved in to try to seal the growing breach in the line. Telamon was alone and about to be hacked to pieces.

Once again, Joff considered wheeling his horse and riding back to Coursa. He remembered a time, not so very long ago, when Jain had called him a coward. Coursa had spoken up for him, had even struck Jain and painfully assaulted Airk for the insult. How could he face her if he ran away now?

Joff climbed down from his horse and drew both his sword and his dagger. Telamon worked his mighty sword with strength an skill, but he could not guard all sides of the chariot at once. A soldier with sword in hand had climbed up and was about to swing when Joff stabbed him in the back of the thigh. Another soldier jabbed a spear at Joff's chest. Joff sidestepped and deflected the spear with his dagger. Then he thrust his sword at the soldier's eye. He missed and instead stabbed the soldier in the cheek. The blade slid along the side of the soldier's face, opening a garish wound. The soldier staggered back and dropped his weapon while one of his fellows swung his sword at Joff and got stabbed in the arm for his trouble.

And then Joff was through the soldiers and among the conscripts. He dodged hayforks, sickles, hammers, and all other manner of improvised weaponry. Lacking formal training, the peasants blundered into one another and occasionally managed to hit each other instead of Joff. Some part of Joff knew that Telamon's men were fighting around him, that the breach in the line had been reversed. Mostly Joff's attention focused on the weight of his sword, on how tired his arms were getting, how he could not catch his breath.

A horn sounded, followed by a noise like thunder. The conscripts backed away and for a moment Joff thought that the army was in retreat. Then he looked up at the enemy hill and saw seven chariots descending. The sea of conscripts parted before the onrushing chariots and many of the peasants cheered their lairds. The lairds stood tall and proud, as their counterparts on the other side had done. Their charge would surely crush Telamon's forces. Many of Telamon's soldiers who had come through the breach in Alerick's line were already retreating. Some even dropped their shields and weapons.

Joff did not run because he could not run. His breath came in gasps. The momentum of the charge would bowl him over and he would be trampled and crushed under hooves and wheels. If he swung his sword then he might kill a horse, but probably not. It did occur to him to try to sidestep the chariots but he quickly reckoned that he was standing in just about exactly the center of the chariots' path and there was no way he could get out of the way of all of them in time. Even if he did, there was a mob of screaming peasants descending behind the chariots with enough speed that all the fighting prowess in the world would not break their momentum.

A wry grin spread across Joff's face. He had loved and been loved, found pricelss artifacts, and fought in the great battle of his time. Not a bad list of achievements for a peasant and downright impressive for a peasant crippled by illness. He regretted that he would not see Coursa again and he hated to think about what his death would do to her, but there was nothing for that now.

The second chariot to Joff's left turned suddenly as one of the wheels broke. The horses continued to charge and dragged their load even as it disintegrated and dumped both the driver and the laird on the ground at bone crushing speed. Then the chariot on the far right sagged and weaved weirdly as its axle broke. The horses, not understanding what was happening, took the change in pull as a signal to turn and careened into the next chariot in line, knocking it over.

The cheering peasants were suddenly a lot less enthusiastic. And they grew even less so as two more chariots fell apart and one of them crashed into another, bringing the total of wrecked vehicles to five. Alerick looked back at the wreckage. Two things occurred to Joff then. The first was that he was still in the path of one of the two oncoming chariots, Alerick's. The second was that he should move. Before Joff could act, the left wheel of Alerick's chariot somehow locked and the chariot turned hard to the left. The horses tried to go with the turn but it was too sharp and some of them fell, taking their fellows with them. Joff gazed in wonder as the chariot tipped and became airborn, dumping its contents. Alerick landed hard on his back while his driver landed head first with a sickening crunch. The chariot itself landed on Joff's right with such force that it splintered. The driver of the last chariot began to turn, no doubt hoping to retreat, when that chariot also broke.

The conscripts all stared at the wreckage. Finally, some of them started to move They were trying to get away. The rest of them seemed to quickly decide that this was a good idea. Alerick's soldiers fled soon after. Joff took a deep breath and walked to where the laird had fallen. Alerick tried to sit up but his heavy armor weighed him down.

"Are you alright, my lord?" Joff asked.

"Just finish it," Alerick said, glaring up at Joff.

"No, my lord," Joff replied. "I want you to live. I will deliver you to my lord Telamon, that you may offer him your fealty."

"He will not like that," Alerick said. "He wants me dead."

Joff nodded. "I would imagine so."

"Then why help me?" Alerick asked suspiciously. "Do you expect I will grant you some favor?"

"No, my lord. I have all that I need."

Alerick gave Joff a curious look. "Then why?"

Joff took a deep breath and sighed. "This day is the result of the acts of lairds, peasants and rogues. Brutal acts, treacherous acts, acts that no man should commit or have commited against him. The Holdings will be united in one kingdom. I would like for at least one act of mercy to be part of that unification."

"Very moving," Alerick said. "Alright, help me up."

Joff did what he could to help Alerick to his feet. Alerick was not badly hurt but the fall had battered him and he could not move quickly. That suited Joff as he struggled to catch his breath. They found Laird Telamon removing his armor with the help of a soldier.

"What?" said Telamon as he saw the approach of his enemy.

Alerick knelt and removed his helmet. "My lord. You have bested me. For your courage and skill I offer you my love and fealty, now and for all time."

"Why did you not kill him?" Telamon said indignantly.

"My lord, it is rude to address a peasant when another laird is speaking to you," Joff said helpfully.

"Of course," Telamon said. "Forgive me, my lord. Very well. Kiss my ring and all shall be forgiven. The code set down by the augurs gives me no other choice." Alerick kissed Telamon's ring. Telamon bade his new ally to go and make the castle ready to entertain guests. When Alerick had gone, Telamon looked around for Joff. He wanted a word with the scribe.

Joff walked as fast as his condition would allow to the spot where had left his horse and prayed that the beast had not run off. The horse stood, eating grass, while Jain held its reins. "I did not know that Coursa had sent you," Joff said.

"She thought you had dwelt among the lairds long enough." Jain grinned. "I believe she misses you and your . . . attentions. She mentioned something about some of the books you've read."

Joff sighed as he took the reins. "Are you coming with me?"

"No," Jain replied over her shoulder. She was already walking toward Telamon. "I am your replacement here."

Jain went to Telamon and introduced herself.

Telamon nodded. "Fine, but where is the scribe?"

"There, my lord," Reginald said. The steward pointed to a fast disappearing figure on horseback. Joff was riding away at full gallop, toward Luishire, the forest, and Coursa.

Joff pushed the horse hard for the first hour and then, seeing no signs of pursuit, he let the horse slow to a trot. It had been late in the morning when the battle ended. That gave Joff most of the day to put distance between himself and the future king of the realm. He noticed things now that he had not before, a cottage set back from the road, a dog barking in the distance. The area had seemed deserted when the army had passed through. Joff guessed that was no accident. The cottage were all far off the road, many obscured by trees. The peasants must have brought their animals in when they heard that the army was coming.

The land passed quickly now that Joff did not have to slow his horse so foot soldiers could keep up. Joff pushed the horse harder as the shadows lengthened into late afternoon. He approached the village that Telamon had pointed out on the journey there and thought about stopping for the night. The road behind him was clear, but it was possible, likely that Telamon would send a heralds to spread the news of his victory. Perhaps the future king had forgiven him for sparing Alerick. Everything Joff had ever known about lairds told him that this was unlikely. Lairds held on to grudges like peasants held on to good farm tools. Joff rode on.

Full dark had fallen by the time Joff reached the village of Luis. He decided to avoid the inn, lest anyone come calling there. A lad carried a pail of water down the lane, toward one of the cottages.

"Hey there," Joff said.

The lad stopped and gave Joff a terrified look.

"Where is the cottage that Jain lived in?"

The lad tried to point with the hand that held the bucket, shook his head, and pointed with the other hand. Joff tossed him a sil and rode off toward the cottage. The place looked exactly like every other peasant cottage, so Joff had no way to be sure that it was the right one. He climbed down from the horse and tethered it to a tree near the door. When he knocked a rough looking man with dark hair and darker eyes opened the door.

"I'm sorry to bother you," Joff said. "I need food and a place for me and for my horse to sleep. I can pay."

The dark man narrowed his eyes. "Go to the inn. I've no room for lodgers."

Joff shook his head.

"I want no trouble," the dark man said. "Go on. Get out of here."

"I'm a friend of Jain's."

The dark man's eyes widened in greater fear than the lad's had. "Alright," he whispered. "Go to the barn. There's a palette there and an empty stall." More loudly, he said, "Get out of here!" and slammed the door.

Joff led his horse to the barn and fumbled around in the dark as he tried to undo the saddle and harness. The barn suddenly grew lighter.

"Thought it would be easier with a light," Daniel said. In his right hand he held a lantern. In his left he held a mug with a plate of food balanced on the top. He set the meal down and hung the lantern on a hook suspended from the ceiling. "You're not much of a horseman, are you?"

Joff confessed that he was not. Daniel saw to the horse while Joff ate. They talked about Jain and about the recent troubles in the realm. When Joff had finished eating, Daniel took his plate. Daniel nodded to one of the blood stains on Joff's shirt. "Are you hiding because of someone you killed?"

Joff laughed. "No. I've killed a lot of men but it was the one I didn't kill that got me in trouble."

"Get some sleep," Daniel said. "I need you gone in the morning. If you're caught here in the night, I never knew you were here." He turned to go, but paused. "If you happen by here again some time, I'd like to hear the story of the man you didn't kill."

Joff departed before dawn and left two henries on the palette. He rode to the forest and followed the familiar track that led to the large but hidden cottage. When he arrived he found Alban standing in front, waiting to take his horse.

"There is a bath drawn for you in the tub out back," Alban said. "There is also a change of clothes. Mother said that your breakfast will be ready shortly."

Joff dismounted and handed over the reins. "How did she know I was coming?"

Alban shrugged. "What doesn't she know?"

After he had bathed and changed, Joff went into the cottage. Coursa stood by the fire where one of her granddaughters stirred a pot of steaming porridge. The granddaughter took her leave, but Joff barely noticed. Coursa's thick hair fell in loose rings around her shoulders and down her back. She wore a dress like the one she had worn to greet laird Telamon, but this one was was white and fit her form even more snugly. Her brown eyes glowed as she smiled at Joff.

"You've done well, my love," she said. "And you've come back to me."

"How did you know?" Joff asked. "How could you have known what would happen?"

Coursa's smile broadened, as much as that was possible. "Do you think I planned all of this? Do you think that's even possible?"

"Yes." It was possibly the shortest sentence of Joff's adult life.

"You are learning." She walked up to him and placed her hand on his chest. "You have a good heart. I know. I mended it for you. I knew you would do me proud."

Joff put his hand over hers and closed his eyes. "What happens now?"

"Now you have breakfast and we spend the day together."

"What then?"

Coursa stepped a little closer to him, close enough to whisper in his ear. "We live happily ever after."

Joff smiled. "That doesn't really sound like you."

Coursa put her arm around him, pulling him into an embrace. "You live happily ever after, while I run The Holdings from the shadows."

Her breath in his ear made Joff shudder. He had yet to say no to Coursa. Why start now. "Happily ever after," he whispered back.
