The Fair Warrior

Laer Carroll

Copyright © 2018 by L. E. Carroll

Books by Laer Carroll

The Eons-Lost Orphan

The Once-Dead Girl

The Super Olympian: Bloodhound

The Super Olympian: Mystic Warrior

Sea Monster's Revenge

Shapechanger's Birth

Shapechanger's Progress

Shapechanger's Destiny

(forthcoming)

The Fair Warrior

On a fair day in Mae came a horse tripping, tripping, up the winding road up the hill to Castle Landesbank Overlook. Riding it was a knight. Behind came a two-wheeled cart pulled by a mule. And behind that a palfrey. So much was apparent despite the sun setting behind the figures.

At first glance Squire Antebes, commanding the gate guards from the walkway above the gates, took the newcomer to be Sir Holdes. Squinting he could see that the horse was the same big chestnut with its peculiar auburn mane, the saddle and other leathers was stained oxblood, and the barding was crimson with gold edging. And Sir Holdes had ridden out only a few weeks ago and was due back within the next few days.

But, when the figure came closer and rode a little way aside from the glare of the setting sun and stopped in the slanting light in front of the gate, Antebes could see that it was not Holdes. It was a stranger. Squinting, he saw that it was a woman!

"Ho, the gate!"

The voice was that of a woman, too, though a warm contralto that could have been mistaken for a man's. And it was strong enough to be heard from thirty or so feet below.

"Advance and identify yourself."

The woman rode up almost to the gate itself, peering all about with great interest, finally looking up at the squire.

"I am Maelgyreyt."

"Maelwhat, of what? Of where?"

"Just Maelgyreyt."

"What do you want?"

"I must speak the ruler of the castle."

"Lord Harkon has no interest in talking to a whore." For such she must be. She wore an immodest armless dress that was split down the middle and rode astraddle, though oddly with no showing of any part of the leg except the feet. Though that was indecent enough.

"I'm not a whore. And I have the property of one who, I've been told, was one of the Lord's knights."

A bulky cluster of objects was piled in the cart. It looked like a suit of armor and might, from appearance, be Holdes' gear.

Then her phraseology struck Antebes. "WAS? What do you mean, 'was'?"

"The knight who owned all this is dead. I thought it only right that it be returned to his heirs. I was told that the lord would know who that is."

That put a different light on matters.

"Open the gate! One rider coming through!"

The gates groaned on their hinges when they opened just enough to let through the rider and the cart, then groaned more until they slammed shut.

Antebes watched curiously as the woman rode to the middle of the courtyard. For the first time he noticed that the bridle was without a bit. It was in fact a hackamore. Not something you'd use on a fierce warhorse, as Antebes knew very well. His ancestors were from the horseclans.

Then he looked even more intently at the woman, noticing that she'd not been touching the reins all during the time she approached and he talked to her. She'd guided the horse just by shifting her weight and using her knees. And now she stopped him the same way, by leaning back very slightly. Despite himself Antebes was impressed.

She dismounted so easily that she seemed to slither from the saddle. Then she went to the horse's head and began scratching behind its ears, looking around with great interest.

"Armsman! You're in charge."

"My lord." The stout and very strong little man who was Antebes' second-in-command for this detail, and actually the real detail commander, gave the proper abbreviated bow to a minor nobleman by nodding his head a precise amount.

Antebes jogged down the steps on the inside of the castle wall to ground level and hurried to the side of the woman who'd claimed the name Maelgyreyt. She looked around at him as he came up to her.

He got a shock. A tall thin young man, the tallest man he knew, he was not used staring up at anyone. He did so now, very slightly. Unconsciously he straightened his spine to counteract the slight hunch that he despised in himself.

He blinked, looked at her with more care. She hadn't seemed so tall from a distance because her proportions were those of an average-sized person. Tall people usually had legs longer in proportion to their bodies. She did not.

"My lady Maelgyreyt. I am Squire Antebes, Baronet Hillguard." He bowed slightly. "I am at your service. Please follow me."

"Thank you, sir."

The woman pivoted to walk beside him, rather than behind and to the side as was proper. He did not reprove her. Something very strange was going on, and he was beginning to think that antagonizing this woman--if she was indeed a woman--would be a very bad idea.

Instead he glanced at her and essayed conversation. "A beautiful day for traveling. I hope you enjoyed it."

"Oh, immensely!" And he was perfectly sure she was perfectly honest. "The air was like wine. I know people say that, but it was true. I just breathed and breathed it on my way here."

"Not like last week. I pitied the poor people who had to brave it."

"Oh, I loved that, too. All those dramatic dark clouds, the whipping rain. So invigorating. And the lightning. Unfortunately it never struck me."

He said sarcastically, "Not something most people wish for."

She laughed happily and glanced at him. She knew exactly how mischievous she was being when she replied. "But I'm not most people."

He gave a laugh that near matched her own. He liked her, dangerous as he guessed she was, and replied to her.

"I noticed."

"Yes, I like you, too." She tucked her arm in his, for all the world like a young girl allowing a man to escort her to a social function.

What? He had said nothing about liking her!

"No, I didn't read your mind. I just read your face. One of my gifts."

<>

Two armed guards stood before the door to the apartments of Lord Haller, Viscount Landesbank. They were not happy to meet the woman. They protested that the lord was sleeping, and not be bothered by some whore or some yearling who couldn't even grow a beard yet.

They were lackeys of Sir Beragan, who was Baron Allseck and the older brother of Holdes. The two brothers and their men had arrived a few weeks ago to join other nobles in pledging fealty to young Haller, the current viscount of the area since his father's death in a hunting accident. Unlike the other lordlings he and his men had not left the castle. Since then Antebes had gotten a bad feeling about that.

"I am not a whore," Maelgyreyt said. She said it as if patiently explaining something to idiots.

"You are trash! Now go back the way you came!" The oldest of the two guards laid a hand on his sword hilt.

Maelgyreyt turned to Antebes.

"Do you think the lord would want to see me, sir?"

Anatebes nodded.

"Now?"

"Yes, indeed."

She turned back toward the two men. The second guard had also laid a hand upon his sword hilt.

"You are very rude men. Get out of my way."

The guards began to draw their swords. Antebes did the same.

Before anything could happen the castle's steward opened the door behind the guards.

"Sirs! Sirs! What is this unseemly noise? Put those swords away!"

No one did so, but they didn't draw them further, either. Then the steward was shouldered aside by the Viscount Landesbank, a young man wearing rich green clothing edged in crimson. He was of medium height but very strongly built.

"What's going on? Stand down!"

The three men reluctantly slid their swords home but kept a hand on their hilts. Mael looked on curiously.

Antebes bowed to his liege lord, a little deeper than Landesbank strictly deserved.

"This lady has news of Lord Holdes, Sire. Apparently he has died."

"Indeed? Tragic news, that. You--" He nodded at the youngest of the two guards. "Go and ask my mother to join me. Or my sister if she's indisposed. Quickly!"

His bark, coming from his massive chest, sent the guard almost running to do his bidding.

"Milady." The lord extended his hand to the tall woman. She took it in a grip as if to shake hands--a great impropriety because it claimed equality with the viscount. Young Landesbank smoothly turned her hand so that he might press his lips to the back of it.

Then he proceeded to casually converse with the woman. He, she, Antebes, the steward, and the older guard stood about as if having casually met in the courtyard. By the time they'd covered the same weatherly territory that Antebes and Mael had earlier a noise down the hall announced the arrivals of both the lord's mother and sister, trailed by the young guard.

The viscountess was a bit stout and grey-haired, grief for her husband's death still carved in her face. The younger lady was tall and slender with dark hair and a solemn face. Both ladies wore variations of the young lord's green and crimson with over-vests of mourning black.

"Ah, good, now we can converse in more comfortable surroundings. Good day, Antebes."

The young man waited till the three nobles and the steward entered the Baron's apartment and the doors closed behind them. Then, reluctantly, he returned to duty. It would surely be nice, albeit impossible, to listen in on the conversation about to take place.

<>

Gossip spread like proverbial wildfire throughout the castle. By the time Antebes was off duty and cleaned up for the nightly meal it had reached fantastic proportions that included, among other delightful items, fire-breathing dragons and armies marching by night. Apparently the first tale, that a sorceress had swooped down on a winged horse, was entirely too tame for some people.

At supper the visitor was seated at the right hand of the viscount, a position of considerable honor, bumping down by one the castellan of the castle. The viscountess as usual sat to his left and his sister, Lady Helaine, beyond her.

Antebes, as a presumptive baron, sat near the top of one of the two cross tables which formed the sides of a square-cornered U. Across from him sat several knights and two baronets subordinate to Beragan, Anders and Sandson, whose properties were baronetcies. Unlike Antebes they would never ascend to a higher degree. They disliked him, for that and for other reasons. He was just as happy not to have them for friends. With friends like them he would not need enemies.

Antebes chatted and laughed with those near him on the table, all partisans of the Viscount. There was no affection for Beragan's men on the opposite table. Most of those on both sides of the table were knights. The only exceptions on Antebes side were himself and Eldoran, a clerk and apprentice healer who thus was respectively one rung below Antebes and two rungs below a knight.

Technically Antebes could open a conversation with knights, being one rung above them. But he was a well-mannered boy who exerted his status as squire and a youngster and only spoke to them if they spoke to him first. Consequently he was conversing only with Eldoran, until one of the knights leaned forward to look at Antebes and speak to him.

"Lord, I understand you escorted the sorceress to see our liege. You must have seen her wondrous mount."

Antebes smiled. "Sir Knight, you joke with me. I've not doubt you know she was mounted on Sir Holdes' mount."

"I'd heard that. I near discounted it. His mount is a spirited beast."

"And still is. But she is a master horseman. Or mistress horsewoman, or whatever the correct nomen are."

"Well, you would know." He turned to a fellow knight. "The Squire here is a descendent of the horseclans."

The conversation begun Antebes said, "Perhaps she is a sorceress. She's certainly extraordinary. But she says she is a healer."

"And uncommon fair, though large."

"I noticed that. But I might be a bit cautious about pressing my attentions on her. Even a healer can put a little something in your wine to make some important appendage drop off."

Great mirth greeted that, followed by several different suggestions about just what appendage that might be.

Before the conversation could turn back to Antebes the viscount stood up. He was wearing the green and red of his office, and waited for the room to quieten.

"I have sad tidings. Sir Holdes is no longer with us. He perished ten days ago when attacked by brigands. But he died as he would have wanted, taking his attackers with him."

The room's noise returned, doubled. Lord Haller waited a moment, then raised a hand. When quiet returned he spoke again.

"His demise was seen by our guest, Lady Maelgyr. She has kindly consented to bear witness to us tonight."

He gestured for her to stand and then took his seat.

All eyes focused on the woman, who wore a simple dress of light blue with the subtle sheen of silk. It fit her tall figure too well to be anyone else's. Antebes nodded to himself. She was not a poor person.

Nor a timid one. She stood and looked around the great hall as if she were its reigning queen, waiting till just the right moment before speaking. Her voice was powerful, easily reaching the far corners.

"Ten days agone the valiant Sir Holdes encountered a fair maiden traveling toward a town to ply her wares and service as a healer. Which she will be doing in this redoubtable castle starting tomorrow."

Her mode of speech was declamatory, unusual in a woman. Antebes settled himself to enjoying grand lies and enjoying both the truth he inferred and a lofty tale.

"Gallantly did Holdes turn aside from his questing to protect the maiden, one known as Maelgyreyt." And surely to bed her himself before someone else could rape her.

"They camped that night near an abandoned cottage too gone for shelter but well enough to protect one side of the camp from wind and to reflect heat back from the camp fire. Holdes and healer ate well from a repast prepared by Holdes' diligent squire, one Alfred, a valiant boy soon to die protecting his liege.

"Well after dark did Holdes and Mael engage in philosophical debate." Have sex, of course. Or possibly not immediately, for she continued.

"They also played chess and were well matched." That was entirely possible. For many years now chess had been popular among knights and nobles, improvising sets and pieces if they happened not to have a portable set on their travels. Antebes guessed that wins and losses that night included various amorous forfeits.

"The loyal Alfred may not have been as diligent a lookout as he could have been." He'd been spying upon the amorous play and pleasuring himself.

"Holdes war-trained stallion surely was diligent in applying his nose and ears but the villainous brigands came in from the lee of the wind.

"The first heroic Holdes and maid knew of intruders were when they heard Alfred's death shout. The boy did not die entirely in vain, for he killed his assailant as he himself died.

"Holdes snatched up his sword and shield and met the rush with a will and a shout to his god. He struck down three of them in the first instant, then he was surrounded. He ended two more before he received his first wound.

"The maid Maelgyr, herself a devotée not only of the goddess of healing but of war, snatched up her staff and dispatched as many as Holdes, they not expecting a woman to fight."

That would likely be taken by everyone else around Antebes as a lie, but he had seen how easily Mael had carried her staff. As tall as she, iron-shod at each end and the middle, it was a distance weapon. Thus in expert hands it could be deadlier than a sword.

"Holdes was well engaged now and dispatched two more assailants in a single deft stroke. But in his fierceness he warded himself not and was struck from the side and behind.

"Finding themselves twice beset the perfidious brigands turned their attention to Mael. They closed with her. But her puissant staff turns into two battle sticks when twisted thus."

She raised her hands above her hands close together, twisted, and then brought them done with a twirl of her hands. Remembering the iron band around the staff, Antebes had a vivid image of her twirling two deadly short-staffs in two windmilling blurs.

"Fair Mael is a fierce partisan when her ire is up. And up it was at the interruption of her pleasant evening. Holdes ended three more and she killed the remaining two.

"But now was a time for weeping. Mael knelt beside the gallant Holdes, trying with all her healer's skill to save him. But not even the best healer can thwart the will of the gods. For they had seen the valor of Holdes and called him home to his just reward."

She bowed her head and her hair fell over her face as if to hide tears. Which Antebes doubted trickled down her face. She just did not seem the weepy type.

Though some of the knights in the hall were, those of the opposite table to that of the squire. Some openly wept. Though that might be more for a dramatically satisfying end than for Holdes himself.

She lifted her head and gazed upward, perhaps at the heavens where presumably Holdes now dwelt. Which Antebes doubted. Holdes had been a brute and a lout who after death more likely went the other way.

She took a deep perhaps shuddering breath and brought her gaze down.

"As the hero lay dying he swore me to bear to those who cared for him the tale of his end and to say that he loved you with his dying breath. So weep for Holdes if you must. But remember as well his deeds on earth and his heroism, and be consoled."

Even skeptical Antebes felt a ground-swell of emotion in his breast. Which swelled even more when young Viscount Landesbank stood with a dripping mug held high.

"Knights and nobles! Fill your mugs! And drink! Drink with me to valiant HOLDES!"

Accompanied by all the men in the hall, he tilted his head and drank full, then as custom demanded slammed his mug to the table with everyone else. The sound was like thunder brought indoors.

<>

As the next morning bloomed fresh, cool, and sunny Antebes spent some of his time as watch supervisor atop one of the four towers gazing down the Overlook, a sharp long drop of the land. The higher plain where the castle dwelled was well suited for cattle and sheep, of which the viscount owned many. The lower plain was more lush and better suited to crops. A checkerboard of them arrayed themselves to his appreciative sight. Beyond them rolled gentle hills and more villages and farm-holds.

"A pleasant day." That was the contralto of Maelgyreyt. He'd heard no scuff of boot. A shock went through him.

He twisted to see her as she drifted up beside him. Then he suffered another shock. She was garbed in leather pants and jacket and sturdy boots. They were all in black. In one hand was her staff. Her hair was pulled sharply back into a pony tail, which was confined by leather cords into a club at the back of her head.

She looked like the fabled Death Maid. Shrewd Antebes was sure this was deliberate. He also had no shred of doubt that she was as deadly as she looked. Though for his life he could not say why he thought that.

"Aye that it is, Lady Maelgyreyt." Smooth was Antebes reply. He had grown up in a court where one learned early to be politely devious.

She laughed. "Oh, dear boy! You are a prodigy."

Antebes leaned once again on the parapet, looking out over the rich land below the Overlook. He was pleased with himself.

Mael copied him. They enjoyed the view for a time.

"Lord Antebes. I sensed a divide of the men at the banquet."

He slanted a look at her.

"Is the position of the Viscount legally in doubt?"

A stranger, she would soon be gone. And unreasonably he trusted her.

"No. He was confirmed in his position by all the barons of the land within weeks of his father's death. They all came and on bended knee swore allegiance. Only...His uncle's men have not left. And they are not a friendly lot."

"I judged the Viscount an intelligent and diligent man. Is he mistrusted? Does anyone think he might have had a hand in his father's death?"

"I was fostered here. We grew up almost as older brother and younger. He is subtle but was in no hurry to assume his responsibilities. In fact, he was hoping to travel a bit and see some of the world. With a picked guard, of course. The heir could never adventure as I once did."

"Why, you were a scamp, weren't you?"

He smiled, sheepish but proud of his daring. He nodded.

"You must tell me of it some time. I have my own tales of adventure. But now I must go and observe the knights at practice."

"I'll come with you."

"Good. Then if it would not lower you perhaps we could spar."

"Gladly."

<>

Of three yards in the castle one was set aside for the knights to practice in the early mornings. In the later mornings the common soldiers would do so there. In that warmer time of the day it could be a grueling workout.

When they arrived the knights were at work. The Viscount's men and those of the Viscount's uncle stayed apart. Antebes agreed with her low-voiced comment that this was not a good sign.

The Viscount's master of arms lifted an eyebrow when he saw Mael in her gear but said nothing. That was untrue of the master of arms, or so he ascribed himself, of the knights of Beragan, Baron Allseck. He strode over to her and Antebes.

"Women do not belong here. Get out."

She ignored him. She racked her weapon and took up a wooden sword. Antebes imitated her.

They walked around the rival master toward a cleared spot for sparring. Infuriated the man took three quick steps behind her back and reached out to grab one of her arms.

In an instant he was falling flat of his back across one of her bended knees. And being checked at the instant before his spine was cracked like a stick.

Antebes had turned at a sound and seen it all. Or he would have if she had not moved so fast she was a blur.

Mael gently let the man down to lie on the ground. Then she stood, picked up the wooden sword she had dropped, and Antebes and she continued on the way as if nothing had happened.

But something had. And a good many of the men in the practice field had seen it.

Antebes presented his sword in salute to Maelgyreyt. She mirrored his actions.

"Do you really need to practice?" he said. "I doubt if I'm a match for you even if you are not as skilled as you seem. That fast and that strong--I'd be dead before I lifted a sword against you."

"No, dear boy. I do not need the practice. But you do."

With that she attacked. He was hard put to ward her blow, even though he had been wary of her the moment they saluted. He had been hard taught not to be careless at that or any other moment.

Soon it became obvious she was testing him, probing his attacks and defenses in high and low and middle. The speed of their movement, slow at first but more and more rapid, began to tire him. He stuck to the practice, stubbornly refusing to quit until he collapsed.

That extremity was not necessary. Suddenly she skipped back and raised her sword in salute. Which of course was also a defense if he cared to advance toward her.

"Pardon me, Lord Antebes. You are tiring me out. Let us share some water."

He was grateful for her over-loud voice. Ostensibly it had been she who had ended the exercise.

They were joined at the water butt by the Viscount's master at arms, who drew a mug and presented it to Mael, then one for himself. Antebes drew his own.

They stood watching the practice, which had slowed as everyone was secretly watching the seeming Death Maid and her prey. It quickly resumed its usual pace under those eyes.

When Antebes had drained his half-mug of water the master spoke.

"It's good to see you diligent in your practice, Lord. But I suppose your duties call you elsewhere."

Antebes bowed to the inevitable and agreed. As he walked away he heard Mael say, loudly enough for him to hear, "A promising young man." He also heard the master agree.

<>

Antebes made it a practice in his "supervisory" duties to visit many parts of the castle. Which was as it should be, for the duties were actually training in the running of a castle, not only in its defenses but also in its dozen other important functions.

This included healing. Thus it was that he again saw Maelgyreyt. This time she was dressed in womanly fashion.

Mael, as a guest healer, was sharing some of her expertise with Eldoran. The regular healer was also there, conferring with the two of them. The tall distinguished man seemed to have fallen under her spell, as had Eldoran. Though the lad had not fallen very far. Though he hid it he was interested in the Viscount's sister Wilfreda, with whom he had no chance of a liaison, given the difference in their stations.

Mael noticed Antebes, of course, and exchanged nods with him as he passed by. She seemed to miss nothing. Which made him wonder if her account of Holdes' death had any truth in it. It was entirely possible that she had objected to his advances and killed him herself. Though that meant she had killed Alfred also, and he was reluctant to think that she had murdered an innocent.

At that moment the dowager viscountess and her daughter Wilfreda entered the infirmary and immediately gravitated to the visiting healer. Antebes passed on to his next duty while they began to monopolize Mael.

<>

That night at dinner Maelgyreyt displayed another of her skills. She was a beautiful singer and collaborated with the castle's musicians and other entertainers. At the end she performed a duet with a male singer, a call and response of two doomed lovers which ended in sweet tragedy.

At least it was sweet for most people. Antebes did not feel that a mutual suicide was at all sweet.

<>

That day established the pattern for the newcomer to the castle. She practiced the martial arts in the morning, the healing arts in the afternoon, and the social arts in the evening.

She seemed tireless, attending both the noble and the common martial sessions. There seemed to be no weapon or tactic she did not know. Antebes thought that she had made no idle boast when she had said she was a devotée of the war god. This had been a solitary thought. It grew to be shared by others.

She would practice with anyone, no matter how low. Even the followers of the Viscount's uncle, Beragan, though it took some time for that connection to warm up to her. She gave advice and led her sparring partners to learn it in their muscles as well as their minds. She focused on basics: balance of body, stillness of mind, fierceness leavened by calm.

Late at night on those nights when Antebes had duty as officer in charge of security she would sometimes show up. Often she chatted about the art of war, which (she said) had thirteen basic principles. They included "Know your enemy" and its mirror "Let not your enemy know you." Another was "The best battle is won without a fight." And "Attack where you are strong and your enemy weak."

In the healing arts she seemed also supreme. She had a magical touch which could take away pain and ease anguish of spirit. Her knowledge of the herbal arts was comprehensive, and she added a few plants once thought useless to the herbal array known to the two healers of the castle.

Somehow she persuaded the two to make a habit of washing their hands with soap before and after treating an ill person, something which surprised Antebes who well knew how stubborn people could be about sticking to old ways. She also taught them to boil surgical instruments before and after use.

In the evenings she talked to everyone, the low as well as the highest. Even more, she LISTENED with a flattering intensity and focus, asking leading questions. Late at night she could be found in the kitchen or the stable, enquiring about everything under the sun and the moon.

Several men sought a liaison with her, but to no avail. She miraculously was able to refuse a man without making an enemy of him. Indeed, afterwards she and the men seemed to be bonded almost as much as if she had pursued an amorous connection.

Antebes was one of those men. He could not say how he had come to be happy to be refused. He only noted that it was yet another oddity to add to a long list of them.

It was Maelgyreyt who persuaded the Viscount to end his formal mourning and return to martial practice. Under her tutelage the sturdy young man became a swift and poised fighter as well. Antebes rejoiced in her feat, and came to love her still more.

Then this idyll was broken.

<>

Beragan, Baron Allseck, arrived mid-morning mid-week with about two dozen of his men. Antebes knew of this when one of the soldiers under him on the guard day shift hurried to apprise him of it, beckoning to him from a side of the martial-arts practice field.

Antebes gathered two guards to him and hurried to greet the Baron, who was already within the castle and was walking rapidly through one of the corridors with a half-dozen men behind him. Antebes stopped in front of him and bowed to the exact degree required between the two ranks.

"Baron Allseck! It's good to see you again. I hope your business was well-done and you have had a pleasant ride back to us."

Allseck stopped and returned the bow with a proper nod of his head. His gaze was not quite a glower.

At that moment the castellan hurried up to greet the Baron and assure him that his old suite had been kept fresh and that servants were even now carrying in and settling in the property he had brought with him in saddle bags and pack mules. He then offered to escort the Baron to pay his respects to the Viscount.

Then Antebes spoke again.

"I'll lead your escort to their quarters. Gentlemen, this way."

With that Antebes stepped around the Baron to face the six knights at the Baron's back. To each side behind the young lord were the two soldiers of the day guard. They were, as routine, lightly armored and had swords slung at their sides. But they would be a formidable fighting force in the none-too-wide corridor, even without the tall young Lord to help them. In the few short weeks since Maelgyreyt's arrival he had put on muscle and learned to make good use of his height, no longer slouching to diminish it. And he was equally well armed.

Baron Allseck was unarmored as was his custom. Without his guards surrounding him he might well be the first casualty in any violent encounter. He was not one to bluster uselessly. Instead he accepted this turn of events as if he highly approved and marched off with the castellan at his side. Antebes walked the other way, chatting pleasantly with the senior of the half-dozen soldiers, all the world as if he was not threatening them.

<>

Duty to the Viscount done, Antebes hurried to the battle practice court, now taken up by common soldiers. He found Maelgyreyt there and warned her of Allseck's arrival.

She did not seem surprised. Doubtless rumor had already traveled hence.

"Good!" she said. "The end game begins. Remember, be the eager-to-please boy to Allseck, but not easily swayed from your duty. Stay close to our lord Viscount; he will be bold in the next few days. Stay at his back, but far enough away for your throwing spikes."

In the late-night sessions with Mael she had given him a decorative belt with loops holding heavy finger-length nails. Instead of wide flat heads suited to hammer strikes they had roughened half-inch tops easily grasped with thumb and forefinger. Thrown accurately, with his new-made skill and strong arm, they were deadly up to fifty feet if they struck an eye or nose or ear, and a great distraction if they struck any other part of the face.

He patted his belt, then walked a distance away to watch the soldiers at their practice, apparently idly.

Near the end of the practice session Baron Allseck arrived, another half-dozen guards at his back. He strode up to where Mael was exchanging strokes with a soldier. She seemed oblivious to the new arrival. Antebes had no doubt she knew exactly where the lord and his lackey were and could have them dead and dying in instants.

"Slut! Drop that sword! It is not mete that a woman handle weapons! Get out. Never come back here. And I never want to see you in that shameful outfit again."

Mael swung round, eyes wide with seeming shock. She stared at the Baron. She had to look down at the squatly powerful lord. With her broad shoulders and hips and lithe frame she could seem dangerous to one who clearly looked at her. But her shocked eyes fell as if she were a chidden child. The wooden practice sword clattered to the ground. She mumbled something and slouched away, every line in her body expressing shame.

Antebes wanted to laugh at her act but restrained himself. He hurried to the lord's elbow to play his part.

"I'm sorry, my lord! We have been humoring her because she is such a talented healer. And when we have accidents in practice she is near and can treat the wound right away."

"Coddling the troops? That is no way to build a tough force able to fight on despite their wounds. It's a good thing I arrived before our men are completely ruined."

He turned to survey the soldiers and those men redoubled their efforts.

<>

By the time the nobility and knights dined that evening the word had gotten around how Maelgyreyt had been humiliated that morning. And that afternoon when Allseck had appeared at her elbow while she was crushing herbs with a mortar and pestle in the company of the healer. The baron had said nothing but looked at her efforts with disdain. Mael had hunched her shoulders but avoided his gaze. The baron had then walked away.

Many of the occupants of the castle, including not a few of the baron's own men who knew Mael well, were angry on her behalf.

When the evening meal was nearly over the baron stood up from where he sat at the place of honor at the right hand of the Viscount. All conversation quickly died.

"I've heard a tale of great heroics about how my noble brother Holdes died, in the company of a woman who claimed to match him blow for blow against a band of brigands. Yet when I visited the place of his death I found only a burnt peasant's cabin with two bodies inside. Bodies like those of my brother and his squire.

"I found no bodies of a band of brigands supposedly vanquished and left to ignobly rot."

He pointed a hand at Maelgyreyt seated near the foot of the table the Viscount's knight sat.

"I accuse the witch who flouts herself in men's clothes of murdering and robbing my brother. Guards, take her to the dungeons and prepare to put her to the question!"

At that the Viscount rose from his seat.

"Hold!"

He turned toward his uncle.

"Let me remind you, this is my domain. I command who will be imprisoned. And I remind you that my father forbade the harsh measures of the question. I carry on that tradition.

"Still, your complaint deserves consideration." He named two of the guards stationed near one door to the dining area. "Escort Lady Maelgyreyt with all respect to her quarters and stand guard outside her doorway. You will be relieved at the proper time.

"Now, uncle, we will sit and finish this meal in proper order."

<>

At the Viscount's orders Antebes inquired of Maelgyreyt of her needs and informed her that she would be tried mid-morning of the next day. The young lord assured her she would receive her usual breakfast in her quarters but that she would be safe throughout the night and morning.

She smiled at that and thanked him her protection. Just as if neither one of them knew that any assassin or crew of assassins who thought to harm her while she slept would meet an unpleasant surprise.

<>

Antebes had made sure that he would be watch commander of the next day. That way he could see that Maelgyreyt got her breakfast and was suitably accompanied at the proper time to the Justice Hall mid-morning. He was in the Hall on the balcony overlooking the area when she arrived.

Directly before him on the first floor was a dais against the wall running along the middle third of the Hall. On throne-like chairs on the dais sat the Viscount and two judges. In front of them and to their left and right sides were two ordinary chairs. In one would sit witnesses against an accused. In the other would sit the accused.

Along the other three walls could stand spectators. In the middle floor were padded benches for nobles and the top-ranking knights in residence at the castle. Behind them in several ranks were unpadded benches for merchants, artisans and such.

Everyone was in place when Mael arrived. She was dressed in a simple gown of green silk with a golden sash about her waist. The green proclaimed her a devotée of the goddess of healing, the gold of the goddess of the harvest. Her long black hair spilled down her back and across her bosom in glossy ringlets.

She settled into her chair and looked around with great interest, a trait Antebes had noticed from the first glimpse he had seen of her. Life for her seemed filled with color and excitement, even on the drabbest of days. That was one reason he loved her.

Several cases had been adjudicated that morning and Mael's trial was the last. Antebes was sure this was no accident.

With Mael's seating the audience stirred with interest. Most of them were here for this event.

The senior judge stood and read an indictment of Maelgyreyt. It was brief and to the point: she had murdered the knight Holdes and tried to cover it up with lies. The senior judge then called the first witness and sat down. His robe was trimmed in red, the color of the war god who was also the god of justice. His task was to prosecute the accused.

Sir Beragan, Baron Allseck, stood from the padded witness bench set to one side of the room and ascended the dais to sit in the witness chair. A red-robed priest of the war god swore him to truthful speech. The senior judge then asked him to recite his story.

Allseck told of scouting the place where Holdes and his squire had died. Their bodies, burned nearly beyond recognition, were found in the abandoned cottage described by Maelgyreyt. No bodies of brigand were found, nor any sign they had been there. Nor that Holdes had set up camp before the cottage as she had said.

At that point the junior judge stood and approached Allseck. His black robe was trimmed in blue, the color of the god of wisdom and enquiry. He asked Allseck how many times rain had washed over the land. Reluctantly the baron answered three, but he protested that none of the storms had been enough to wash away all sign at the death site. The judge asked if there was another explanation for the lack of bodies of brigands, if perhaps the locals had buried kin or, lacking that, plundered the bodies and hid them away in the hopes that their thefts would not be discovered. Allseck lapsed into sullen silence.

Next two more men from the baron's investigating entourage were called to the witness stand. Their stories matched the baron's in every way.

Lastly Allseck was called back to the stand and asked if he had anything to add which would cast doubt upon Maelgyreyt's story.

"Yes! The witch claimed that she had matched my brother's prowess in battle and killed as many brigands. That's impossible. No woman could do that."

At that there was some snickering from the audience. All too many of the knights there had been lessoned by Mael and knew her capabilities. The Viscount immediately pounded the floor with his heavy staff of Justice and so silenced the outbreak.

The junior judge then called Maelgyreyt to the stand, had her sworn to truth, and asked her if she had any words in her defense. She claimed she was perfectly content with the trial as it stood and had nothing to say. The senior judge then questioned her about the events of Holdes death. She stuck to her story of an attack of brigands during which Holdes had been killed.

The two judges then retired with the Viscount to confer about a judgement. It took them no long time to come to a conclusion. At that point the Viscount stood.

"We unanimously agree that there is insufficient evidence that the savant Maelgyreyt murdered Sir Holdes and his squire. Therefore she is free of restraint and may continue her life in my domain as she has before." He then pounded his staff twice to indicate the case was done.

At that moment Maelgyreyt stood and spoke to the Viscount.

"Lord, I accuse Beragan, Baron Allseck, of malicious lies against my person. I challenge him to a trial by combat."

The baron shot to his feet and shouted, "Challenge ME! I shall send you to the hell you deserve!"

The Viscount's staff struck the floor of the dais three times. The sound was like thunder.

"Silence! Both of you!"

Lord Haller looked coldly at first one then the other of the two disputants. Beragan looked mutinous, Mael frozen faced. Neither spoke.

"Both of you, sit down. And stay silent."

The two of them obeyed, Allseck angrily, Maelgyreyt stony faced.

The Viscount sat also and conferred with the two judges for long moments. Then he stood again.

"The petition cannot in law be denied. However, Baron Allseck cannot himself be allowed to endanger his person in this way. He must choose a champion."

The baron looked as if he were going to explode. Mael kept her frozen expression. Gradually the baron's face grew still, then thoughtful. He looked around, found the person he sought in the crowd standing near one wall. He was easy to find because he stood at least a head above anyone else. Allseck called him by name and the man came to stand by him. He was a tall sandy-haired man with a brutish face and massively muscled body.

"This is my champion, Sergeant Naxes."

"Very well," said the Viscount. "Since he is the challenged, he gets the choice of weapons."

"He chooses the longsword."

The Viscount ignored the baron and sat looking steadily at the sergeant. That man wilted a bit under the gaze then said, "I choose the longsword."

That was hardly a surprise to Antebes. With his strength and size the man would naturally choose a weapon that gave him the most advantage. The longsword was the length of a man's height and was normally used as a cavalry weapon and swung with two hands. But it could be used as a dueling weapon.

Antebes glanced at Maelgyreyt. She was smiling faintly, seemingly perfectly at ease.

The Viscount also turned his attention to the woman. "Do you still choose to challenge?"

She grinned. "By all means. And don't worry, Sergeant. I'll try not to hurt you too badly. It's that offal-eating lord of yours I want to turn into sausage."

The big man blinked in bewilderment, then hardened his face.

The Viscount then gave the time and place for the duel: the practice courtyard a hand of time after the middle-day meal. He pounded his staff and declared the justice court closed.

Antebes had already made his way to the court floor and quickly gained Maelgyreyt's side. She smiled at several friends and turned away from them to him when he spoke to her.

"Come with me. I shall find an escort for you to your room and see that you get food." She was technically free to move about the castle as before being accused. But he did not want anyone to think they could arrange an "accident" before the duel.

She let him lead the way to a pair of guards near one entrance to the room. Before they parted he said, "Is there anything else I can do serve your needs?"

"No, sweet man. I have everything in my quarters. You'll see that I'm escorted to the courtyard at the proper time?"

It was not a question but he nodded anyway and hurried away to see to his several duties, which included seeing that the pair of guards were relieved by another trusted pair so they could have their noon meal and to see that a meal was delivered to her.

<>

Antebes personally escorted Maelgyreyt to the dueling place at the proper time. The two guards from outside her door followed along behind him, then peeled off to join their fellows.

The courtyard had been cleared in the center. The hard ground had been swept of even the tiniest piece of gravel or other debris. A circle had been drawn with white sand to mark the edge of the dueling area.

Spectators ringed the area. Others watched from balconies or windows on the inside of the castle. A shoulder-high platform on one side of the yard overlooked the central area where the duel would take place. It contained chairs for the Viscount and the same two judges, whose robes were now both trimmed in red for War and Justice.

Baron Allseck and a coterie of his highest armsmen were seated on benches on the side of the yard to the right of the platform. Benches had also been set to the left. There is where Antebes escorted Mael. A group of friends, included the two healers, greeted her.

He walked to the center of the circle. A small table had been placed there and four longswords lay atop it.

The Viscount had been surveying the preparations and the crowd. Minutes later he rose.

"Everything seems to be in readiness. Baron Allseck, do you agree?"

The baron nodded shortly.

"Lady Maelgyreyt, do you agree?"

"I do, my lord."

"Then, duelists, proceed to the middle and choose your weapons."

Mael and the huge sergeant, each robed in white and trailed by a servant, walked to the table. One took up the north side, the other the south side. When the table was removed neither would start with the westering sun in their eyes.

Antebes, as officer of the guard, went to the west side of the table. He thus was facing the platform. The red-robed priest of Justice left his place in front of the platform and approached the east side of the table. This way his back was to the Viscount. Symbolically he was an extension of the Viscount.

When all four were in place across from the weapons table the red-robed priest spoke.

"Challenger, choose your weapon."

Maelgyreyt slipped off her robe and gave it to the servant behind her, who stepped a quick pace back to the Challenger's bench.

There was a murmur from the crowd. Mael was clad in the tight black outfit forbidden her by Allseck. With her hair back in a warrior's pony tail she looked very like the legend of the Death Maid.

She took up each sword in turn, one hand on a hilt, the other resting under the middle of the blade. She inspected each closely.

She did not set the last blade back on the table. Instead, she picked up another of them. And extended the two blades to each side. Holding each hilt with one hand.

There were gasps and curses from the crowd. Neither blade wavered at all. The heavy two-handed swords might have been as light as wands.

Casually the woman replaced the two swords on the table and took up the other two. She also extended the two to her sides, paused a moment, and replaced one sword.

The best fight is won before it begins. This was one of the rules of war she had quoted to Antebes one day. And the sick look on her opponent's face showed that he had just realized that he might be outmatched despite Mael's seemingly slight build.

The tall warrior surrendered his robe, revealing a brown leather body suit armored in spots by extra material which had been wet and dried so that it was as good in some ways as chain mail. He selected a blade with no ceremony.

With equal lack of ceremony Antebes took up the two extra longswords and walked to the edge of the circle and beyond, giving the weapons to a servant to have ready in case they were needed. Behind him two other servants ran to take the table out of the center of the circle.

The red-robed referee walked to the edge of the circle and took up a position just beyond it facing inward, his back to the Viscount, still an extension of the Viscount

"Are you ready?" said the referee.

Both duelists took up a stance, a slight crouch with one foot forward, two hands on each hilt so that the swords rose up at an angle in front of the wielders. They were thus ready to attack or defend.

"For the honor of the gods--fight!"

The tall warrior advanced swiftly, bringing his sword above his head, then swung it down at Maelgyreyt with a great shout. The spectators all took a deep breath. The massively muscled warrior's blade seemed unstoppable.

Mael stood frozen till the last instant. She took a short step to the side and brought her blade around in a circle which seemed only to kiss her enemy's sword, so lightly did it engage. But her timing was exquisitely exact, her strength inexorable. The man's sword continued its momentum to clang against the hard packed earth of the dueling field.

In the same circular motion Mael's body turned toward the man, her torso bent forward, and her free leg came whipped up the strike the man's ribs with a chunking sound like an axe striking a tree trunk.

He stumbled and recovered and ran forward out of sword's reach, whirled and took up a defensive stance.

It was not needed. Mael stood, weight on one leg, the free leg casually crossed at the ankles. Her sword was point down and she seemed to lean casually on it.

A few quiet laughs from the watcher were quickly hushed up. The Baron's men scowled. The Viscount's men smiled slightly. Just so had Mael often silently reprimanded a practice partner for doing something stupid.

Antebes remembered his duty as the officer of the day. He surveyed the crowd, then walked to a stair which led up to second-story platform. From it he could look out over the courtyard and see it as a whole.

Three servants, two of them maids, hastily crowded back into the doorway into the castle. He nodded at them casually then looked over the scene below.

There was no suspicious activity to been seen. He focused on the fight, to see the armsman advancing cautiously toward Mael. She was happily looking up and around at the sights, for all the world appreciating the beauty of the day.

The armsman was not fooled. He took up stance just out of sword's reach, eyed her carefully. Antebes guessed he was also getting his breath back and recovering from the kick. Antebes would not be surprised if he had a broken rib or two. He knew Mael's strength was great, guessed it was greater than she'd ever shown.

The armsman advanced, sliding his front foot forward, sliding his back foot forward, almost skating. And again. Two handed he stabbed with the near-blunt diamond shape of the point, used ahorse more to push at an armored opponent rather than stab. But afoot it could stab quite well through her light leather garments.

Except not against Mael. She took two casual steps backward, smoothly bringing her sword up to parry his sword to the side. Rather than trying to turn its motion into a counter-attack the armsman brought it up in a circular motion and into a defensive position. At the same time he skated backward two steps.

Antebes turned and entered the building. Behind him the three displaced servants rushed forward back onto the platform.

For the next half hour or so Antebes circulated through the castle as his duty demanded. Occasionally he would hear the duelist's blades clash with or scritch against each other. There would be gasps from the audience, or shouts, or sometimes laughter. He knew who had caused the laughter.

On the highest rampart he walked up to stand beside a guard looking out over the landscape. Here it was too far away to hear anything from the duel.

The older man looked a bit worried, though only if one knew him as Antebes did.

"Has she lost yet?" His speech was laconic.

"No. Of course not. She's playing with him. You know how she lessons us."

"Yes. But that is at practice. This is a duel. He's trying to kill her. She should be serious."

"I'm not worried. She's always hidden her true abilities. I wouldn't be surprised if she turned out to be the Death Maid for real."

"Nonsense. A deity down here?"

"You know what the priests say. Don't disrespect the gods by expecting them bide by the limits of men."

The man grunted. By what that meant even Antebes could not guess. He left on the next part of his rounds.

Which brought him back to the platform overlooking the duel.

This time he put up a hand to keep the servants from leaving the platform. As tall as he was he could look over their shoulders. They stayed but crowded to the side so that he could see what was happening unhindered.

Nothing much was happening. Mael seemed as fresh as ever. The armsman was definitely not. He was tired. He had probably been hurt several times, by they way he moved. The hardened patches atop his clothing was gone or gashed or hanging loose. His nose ran blood.

Antebes noticed Mael notice him. That seemed to be a signal. She suddenly began ringing blows on her hapless opponent, from overhead, each side, up at a slant. She pushed him around the ring, not toward the edge. Around it once and almost once again.

Then the man fell. Almost. He went to one knee. Then the next. He bent forward, laid the sword carefully on the ground. Put both hands on the ground. Stared at the crowd in front of him. Waited for Mael's sword to take his head off.

She simply stood looking at him, the point of her head on the ground and her hands on its two-handed hilt. Then she raised her head. Looked at the Baron.

He was standing, glaring at her. Then he looked up at the Viscount.

"This is an abomination. This is no woman. This is a demon."

The Viscount stood. The judges on each side of him stood also. His voice reached out over the courtyard.

"I have seen no magic. Only skill. And endurance. We have all seen it in the months you were gone. Lady Maelgyreyt has honored all the gods during these months. None have repudiated her. She is clearly innocent."

He did not glance at the two judges beside him. They both nodded judicially, once. Or perhaps they bowed their heads in acquiescence to his will.

The Baron glared at Mael, then at the armsman.

"Go ahead! Finish your devil's work! Kill him!"

"Why?" she said. "He fought to the best of his ability. If he were not so strong his heart would have given out."

"His heart did give out! Look at him."

"His heart has not failed. Only his body."

The Baron spat on the ground. "Kill him! He is useless."

"I think he has much more use in him as man and not compost for some garden."

"He is useless to me. Kill him if you are not a coward!"

The Death Maid looked at the man before her, his head bowed.

"Are you ready to die, armsman?"

He gave a short nod.

"I think you have NOT dishonored yourself. If the gods found work for you to do, would you do it?"

He thought about that. She waited, almost as still as a statue.

The crowd muttered and whispered. But the Viscount was watching Mael and the armsman, so none dared move from their places, not even the Baron.

He nodded.

"Then pick up your sword and stand."

Slowly, painfully, the man did. He glanced at his sword, then placed it point first on the ground and mirrored Maelgyreyt's stance.

"You have no name now. You are a servant of the War God. This man--" She lifted a hand from her sword and pointed at the red-robed priest, who unbidden was approaching.

"This man is now your master. He will help you pick a name, make sure you are fed and clothed and housed. He will give you the God's work to do.

"Or so I believe is just. Do you concur?" She looked at the priest. His face under his cowl was unreadable, but he nodded.

"Then go stand behind him now."

As he did so Mael knelt before the priest, looked up at him. "Father, I have tried to do our God's will. Will you bless me?"

Interesting, thought Antebes as he watched the priest lay a hand on her head. Watched the Viscount dismiss everyone back to their duties. Watched the crowd break up, with much loud conversation.

Clever. She had protected the armsman from the wrath of the Baron. Given him his self-respect back. Given him a way to assuage his guilt by giving him no-doubt hard work. Given a valuable gift to the church of the God of War and Justice, and gotten her efforts approved by that church. Which indirectly protected herself, somewhat, from the Baron's anger.

He turned back into the castle. He hoped he had learned another lesson in handling a difficult situation, as he surely would when he ascended to his duty.

<>

Antebes day was done after the evening meal. Then he surrendered his duty as day-watch officer to another of the Viscount's men. He ate in the watch duty's wardroom with other guards retiring from their own day of duty.

Antebes was in the middle of them, now obviously a warrior of ability. Officially still a squire, he waited politely for any knight to address him before joining that man in conversation. Soon he was in the middle of a group of knights. The duel today was the near-exclusive topic of conversation.

Near the end of the meal and the beginning of a period of relaxation the Viscount's senior officer arrived. Sir Jax was clad in light armor and wore a sword. Two other knights accompanied him.

Antebes ceased speaking and turned his head toward Jax. Within a minute all speech trailed off.

Jax turned and nodded at the two men with him. They turned and went out, closing the heavy door behind them. Antebes was sure they were standing guard outside.

"Well, lads. An interesting day. And mayhap an interesting night. When you retire to your quarters you are to get some sleep but keep your weapons and half-armor near. Be prepared to be awakened. Nothing may happen tonight. But if it does we will be ready for it."

With that he turned and left the room. Which burst into conversation.

<>

It was perhaps 3:00 in the morning when Antebes was awakened by the melody of Maelgyreyt's voice calling his name.

The squire came quickly awake and rolled out of his bed, his hand going to the hilt of his sword.

He'd left a fat candle burning on a table nearby. It showed the woman standing a few yards away. She was dressed in her black Maid's outfit. She carried neither her staff nor wore a sword. Instead she wore a belt like the one she'd given Antebes. Its loops were filled with the same darts his was.

"Yes?" he said.

"The game is ending tonight. Your part is to dress as if for watch duty and go down to the banquet hall. Express surprise to see the Baron and a group of his men gathering there. Act the innocent. Do not worry overmuch. I will be there for you, hidden."

Antebes had been wearing day clothing rather than night clothing. He began adding to it his light armor, then his sword belt and his short sword-like sword breaker.

"Our Lord?"

"The Viscount is ready. So is the night watch and I myself have alerted the day watch."

She came forward, put both her hands on his shoulders, surveyed him from arms' distance.

"You should be safe, for I'll be waiting for him to kill you. But be alert and careful underneath that innocent act. Not even I am perfect. I could always screw up. I do not want anything to happen to you."

He looked at her, hiding his love for her as best he could.

"I shall be careful."

<>

"My lord! What a pleasant surprise, meeting you here. Could you not sleep?"

Antebes had done as Mael required and met the Baron in the throne room while seemingly on his rounds as night guard captain. The man was in battle gear and wore a longsword. Behind him in the shadows two dozen men similarly attired froze to stand in the shadows.

"Ah, no. I have business. Stand aside, boy."

Antebes let his open face close up and lifted his jaw.

"I cannot do that, Sir. I will have to ask you to return to your quarters."

The man shifted his gaze to the side where one of his men had slowly taken up station. He nodded slightly.

Antebes tensed but did not otherwise respond as the man put hand to sword and began to draw it. It was no surprise but great relief when he heard a Chunk! as if a melon been struck or split.

The man's face went slack and his body began to tilt forward, his head tilt forward more. An iron spike in the back of his head came into view as he folded and fell with a crash of armor.

The men in the shadows cried out and began to move forward. Two of them in the vanguard suddenly fell forward, men behind them stumbling over them.

Suddenly a figure plummeted to stand before them, legs bent, great iron-shod staff poised to lash out or whirl into action. In the dim light in the middle of the room Mael seemed to be the Death Maiden indeed.

The men stumbled to a halt. They might have recovered and rushed forward but from deeper shadows on each side of and behind them came other armored and armed men. Three dozen perhaps in all, they advanced just enough to attack the Baron's men if given cause. It would have been a massacre if they did so.

"So, Baron," came a voice from amidst the newcomers. "Ready to kill me and rape my mother and sister. To death or unwilling marriage. Despite your oath to my office."

The Viscount strode from the half-circle of his men into the light. He was clad in light armor and wore his green and red robes of office. A sword was sheathed on the wide belt he wore.

Allseck pivoted to face his accuser.

"I am no traitor to the office. You are merely Viscount until the year of mourning is up. Until then anyone can challenge you to the office. And so I do."

"Maiden?" the Viscount said to Mael.

"If he wishes to choose this path it his right. And now is the time for it. The sooner this issue is settled all these honorable men can return, as one, to the service of protecting the realm from outside attack."

It had shocked Antebes that the Viscount had acknowledged Mael as the Death Maiden, left hand of the War God and priestess of Justice. Now he saw the wisdom of the move and understood another lesson in governing. No matter who won none of the men in the two now-opposed forces would have a legal right to attack others later. It was an excuse for peace.

"I so choose," said Allseck. "I will cut down this puny upstart and set matters right in this realm."

The Death Maiden came forward. "We need more light for any cutting. Steward!"

Her call was answered by the stalwart old man who was the steward--more proof if Antebes had needed it that this confrontation had been planned. The steward came out of the shadows with servants behind him carrying candles.

Under the man's guidance the hall became well lit. As it did so news brought more spectators into the hall, most of them in robes over sleeping clothes. Antebes and the rest of the night guard positioned the armed men in a circle around the center of the hall where the two men readied for combat.

At first glance the older man looked more formidable. Grizzled and mature, he wore heavy armor and did it well, being a large bear of a man. Opposite him the Viscount looked unimpressive: more lightly armored, shorter, more slender despite the bulk of his shoulders and chest.

But Antebes had little doubt of the outcome. He had trained with the Viscount under Mael's sharp eye.

His estimate proved accurate. The combat began with Allseck rushing to attack the Viscount, to be turned aside and struck with a glancing blow on his armor.

After that the duel was almost boring to Antebes. The older man tried time and again to overbear the Viscount with his great strength, only to find his attacks slid aside or missing entirely. The Viscount played with him long enough so that all could see he would be the clear winner.

The older man tired. He let his sword droop a bit. The Viscount feigned boredom.

Suddenly Allseck drew something from his bosom and cast it at the Viscount. A small knife appeared in the younger man's cheek. He faltered.

Allseck rushed forward, sword high. The Viscount recovered and slid under the attack, his long sword pushing the Baron's sword aside. His short sword slid into Allseck's throat.

The big man halted, swayed, recovered, swayed more, and fell in a great crash.

Cheers broke out. A few people rushed forward to offer congratulations to the Viscount, only to be turned back by Antebes and some of his night guard.

The Maiden came forward to carefully draw out the dagger from the Viscount's cheek, then had him sit in a hastily procured chair. She tended his wound and closed the gash, somehow sealing it without stitches. A strong wine was brought forth and used to wash the wound, then poured into a mug which was handed to the Viscount.

Order was slowly restored and watchers dispatched back to their sleep, though Antebes doubted many would actually sleep. The assembled Viscount's soldiers were sent back to their quarters, Allseck's former supporters escorted to their quarters. They would be leaving the next day carrying Allseck to his rest and to take up positions in support of his heir.

<>

Two weeks later in a late afternoon Antebes was standing on the walkway over the gate into Castle Landesbank Overlook. He was looking down at the winding road up the hill to the castle.

A slight sound alerted him to the near presence of Maelgyreyt. He glanced aside at her. She was clad in her healer's outfit: a flowing light blue robe.

"So much has passed in these few weeks, milady. Did you think on how your arrival would affect us?"

"I long ago got used to that. I've seen so many variations they merge into one. I don't bother to think on it anymore."

Antebes had become so sure that she was immortal and centuries older than he that he just nodded.

They looked for a time at the beautiful sight as the setting sun gilded the landscape.

"What are your plans now?" he asked her.

"I'll stay a while. Your lord is uncommonly wise and attentive to his duties for one so young. I'd like to see him and this land thrive. Marry well and produce heirs as good as he."

"You don't see yourself as a wife prospect?"

"Good Heavens, no. He's so...young. Wed to him, living close to him from day to day, I'd grow bored very quickly."

Antebes felt his heart sink a bit at the ruler of the castle, a decade older than he himself, called young. But not much. He'd long gotten over the idea that she and he might become lovers.

"At any rate, I cannot have children. People lose that ability when they gain very long lives.

"No, I'll be happy for him when he marries, and marries well. I imagine I can help a bit with finding a good wife. And spoiling their children in company with their grandmother and aunt.

"No, my mates can only be temporary. Young, vigorous, open to learning new things and adventuring out into the world every once in a while before he settles down. Such a man, or sometimes a woman, could use an older companion to help him and warm his tent at night."

Antebes felt a slender hand settle over his as it lay on the parapet separating them from a fall off the landing. A stray tendril of wind brought a floral scent to him in the gathering of the twilight.

And all was right with the world.