The lovely LaDee yLdcat: I have fun thinking up lal the twists and turns :-) I have no idea where they come from though! Thank you muchly :-) I'm overjoyed that you like the story!
The jazzy JJJLCC (does that stand for anything?): The spelling looked fine to me! Kally...mmm...a) yeah, it suits the story and b) that gets explained a little later. There's a reason for it, truly! Thanks everso!
The quirky Quartz: Technology can be very evil. I am the death of all things electronic, so I sympathise completely (hotmail hates me with a passion.) ::grins:: I don't mind how long or short the review is - it's quantity, not quality, and it's wonderful of you to review at all. I'll let you get back to ruling the Qs, and being a psychedelic moron :-) Thank ye muchly!
The joyous Jaya: Yup. I figure Kaddar must have had some relations who had a good influence on him. (It was a good influence, honestly!) The reason for Davir's manners - or lack of - is explained this chapter :-) Ta!
The awesome Alastriona: I didn't really intend Davir to turn up in this story, but he decided to stick his head in anyway. Yvenia...mmm...she's an interesting character - I'm not sure what he part to play is yet, but I'm sure it'll become clear. LOL! I;m sorry, I don't intend to do that - it really does just happen. See? Out pretty damn quick :-) And hopefully, it'll continue! Thank you!
The kick-ass Kittykatt: Hopefully Davir will stir things up a little. I have the feeling he's about as friendly as an electrocuted rhino. Thanks!
The divine Diomede: I don't know that he's quite in Blue's league :-) I certainly don't know him as well! Liking is a word... The Stormwing - I think things will shake out a little more clearly next chapter round. I think Kally and Davir will get on like a house on fire (eve been in a burning building?) Thank you hugely!
And my heartfelt thanks to all of you who commented on the song-parody :-) I'm muchly startled and delighted it was liked!
As you can probably tell, comments are utterly adored, pored over, revered, worshipped and generally cherished; I love hearing what you think, be it comment or criticism - it's sweeter than double chocolate gateau.
Hope you enjoy!
Ki
A Lady's Shield Chapter Six
She was away a long time, that spring.
The world was troubled; the Gifted were at their zenith, and strange unruly power rolled through human hearts and human souls. And many of those who had power had restraint with it, and wisdom, and care. But some...there were always some who did not, in whom magick and madness ran together, and so overran all in their path.
There was much for the Phoenix to do when she left the mountains, burning again with a strength that came from the simple support of kith and kin. Cruelty was rife in her ever-changing world; new monsters born with each fool's dreaming, new monsters born in human form and shape.
Her legend resounded through the land that spring. Among the snowdrops, mothers told their children of the Phoenix, who walked through the Scanran Sorcerer's web of enchantment to behead him with a single blow; of the invisible killer revealed under the firebird's purity; of the army that crumbled under her dazzling skill.
And in the mountains, the hunters drew closer, and closer, and laid their trap with the utmost care, waiting until the Phoenix was in the far Yamani Islands, and striking down a tyrant-
And they struck.
"Stop."
She looked like some figure from legend; slim and tall with her long blade gleaming. Her weight was even on her spread feet; Yvenia was glad now of the thick hide of her boots and warm furs she wore for they might serve as scant armour against those razor claws.
Mithros, Lady, Shurri Shang-Shield, help me now. I am your own; help me against these horrors.
And horrors they were. They had been darting shadows before, but now she saw them clear. Twice the size of a wolf, with thick muscles running under fur that was short and shimmered blackly as poison. Sturdy legs ended in two inches of wickedly honed claw.
But what struck her most was their eyes, a wide bright red, a pair of fresh bloodstains. And horribly, awfully intelligent.
It was as though there were people sat behind those eyes.
"I won't let you," she said, pleased at how strong her voice was. Her stomach was a sphere of ice, her skin chilled. She had long learned to deal with fear, and though this was fear beyond all, fear to break the gods themselves, she fought it fiercely. "You can't have her."
Behind them, the unicorn's head swung to her, and dipped, as if in a bow. So white, white of surrender, white of a shroud.
A low, rumbling growl broke from one creature's throat, and the others took it up.
"Stay back, child," she said to the little girl concealed in the shadows, never turning her head. "Don't move, whatever happens, do you understand?"
Silence, bar the snarl which was growing louder and higher, scraping along her ears.
Yvenia tightened her grip on the knife. The one on the left was closest; that one first, but watch for the one furthest away, her back would be facing that-
"Do you understand?" she snapped.
"Yes," the trembling answer came back.
Her stare was fixed on the hounds, and she had to exert every inch of self-control not to turn and flee. "You shan't have her," she told them, for the first time in many years feeling sweat trickle icily down her back. "Not unless you kill me too."
The snarl broke into a howl, and the closest hound pounced.
Kel felt goosebumps roll over her skin in wave after wave as the howl sliced through the still air.
"Mithros!" Raoul swore, and urged his horse into a gallop. "Pick up the pace, men, we'll miss this blasted hunt!" His last words weren't meant to be heard, but they flitted back to her all the same. "And his Highness will have my guts for garters, and my stomach for a souvenir."
Peachblossom's hooves pounded on the road, part of the rolling thunder as the Own sped up, sending up trails of dirt that looked like diamond dust in the moonlight.
The howl came again, and Kel shuddered. She'd never heard anything like it, not in all her time on the trail with Raoul, not in wolf-song or eagle-cries. It was unearthly and bloodthirsty and terrible.
She thought she would never experience anything like that short, hurried flight again, the shadows lurking thorny and twisted beneath the trees, and the howl vibrating in her blood and in her bones. She felt as though she rode into the jaws of death, waiting to snap closed over her.
I shouldn't be this afraid, she thought, but saw the same fear frozen on those around her.
I shouldn't be this afraid - but I am.
And then they reached the village, and Kel could scarcely take in what she saw.
The unicorn, with black blood trickling down her heaving sides - rearing, kicking, her horn slashing through the air like a golden scimitar. Her eyes spilled fire, eyes of a falling star, eyes old and cold and secret as the moon; no sound at all escaped her.
A rotting, sickly-sweet scent hit her nostrils, and Kel nearly choked as her stomach churned. She knew their orders were to observe - only to observe - but at the sight of the hounds, dreadful, dark to the unicorn's light, she wanted to hurl herself into that desperate dog-fight and help, despite the rabid terror chattering inside her.
In front of her, she could hear Raoul taking choking, vast breaths, and his head was turned in the direction of the hounds, scant blurs, claws flashing; causing fresh streams of blood to gush down the unicorn's sides.
"Mithros take us all," she heard him say to Buri, who was stroking her trembling mount with an equally shaking hand. "This is their hunt? They expect us to sit and watch this?"
"I'm afraid," she heard the Rider say in a low voice that the men and women behind wouldn't hear. "Gods, Raoul...they're monsters. I feel like I'm facing every Stormwing on earth...I've never felt any fear like this."
"It's magical all right," he agreed. The big knight's shoulders were hunched, and there was no missing the grimness in his voice. "Perhaps we should interfere. You read those predictions - if that creature dies, this place will be cursed."
Buri chuckled shakily. "Flimsy excuse, Goldenlake. We both know you believe in curses like I believe in intelligent recruits."
Raoul shook his head. "I don't like this. I don't like this at all."
Then Kel saw something else. She had missed it before; the unicorn and the hounds would distract anyone - but beside the unicorn, laced with cuts and bruises was something scarcely recognisable as human. Kel felt her eyes widen.
"Sir!" she croaked.
Raoul's face, pallid and taut, turned to her. "Squire?"
"There's a person in there!" she said, gesturing to the figure that stumbled. Her heart leapt. "Sir!"
"That decides it," Raoul growled. Kel didn't know whether to be relived or terrified. "Off the horses, people, we're joining the fun."
"M'lord?" The stout voice was Flyndan's, and though Kel knew he was no coward, she wasn't surprised to see the beads of sweat on his face. Those creatures weren't normal. "Our orders were to observe. The King-"
"There's a person in amongst that mass," the knight snapped back. "I don't like it any more than you, Flyn, but I don't want to stand by and watch that get murdered. The King will no doubt have great fun thinking up a punishment for me. I'm sure there's some spinster he can seat me with at the next banquet."
That raised faint grins as men dragged weapons from saddlebags, and from scabbards. Most had spears; Kel could see why - she wouldn't want those creatures any closer than they had to be.
"Can they be killed?" she heard Buri mutter. "These are no ordinary dogs."
"I don't know," Raoul said tightly. "Let's find out."
He organised the men into groups of four or five and flatly ordered them to stay together. Healers and anyone Gifted were ordered to stay back, and throw what magick they safely could into the fight. Kel was thrust in with Dom; even he had lost his good-humour, and was staring at the scene with wide and dark eyes.
"Go," Raoul snapped, and led his group into the fray.
Kel swallowed hard, and followed.
Ryan didn't know where he was running. He didn't have anywhere to run to now. Before, there had always been street-haunts, and dark holes to hide in. Now he was stuck in this palace, not street any more, but not noble either. Stuck in between, and no one gave a damn.
He'd never asked to be Gifted - he'd not asked for anything that had happened over the past months, but happen it had, and trapped him here.
He paused, and looked around him. Why had he come here? Here of all places, the shrine of the woman responsible for this.
The Goddess's temple was lovely, a place of light and air, filled with arching windows that let in the bright moon to flush the marble with holy radiance, and turn the silver statue to a mass of blinding light. There were flowers and gifts at her feet, and for a moment he was tempted to kick them to pieces.
"Can ye hear me?" he demanded angrily. "Or are ye off wreckin' lives again?"
"Still rude, I see," a cool voice said, and he spun to see her stood there. A simple woman, with a cascade of dark inky hair swaying about her, and eyes green as luck, green as the grass on a grave. The Goddess raised one slender eyebrow, and her scarlet mouth half-smiled. "You don't change, Ryan Talver."
"Nor do you," he snapped back. "How could you let them men die?"
"I?" She shook her head, and leaned against one of the marble walls. "Men's lives are spun, Ryan Talver. They are spun, and they are measured, and they are cut. We do not decide when or how men die."
She paused, and waved a hand. "Except for the occasional smiting," she added reflectively, "though that does tend to be Mithros. He's so tetchy these days."
"Tetchy?" Fury flared up in Ryan, hot and sharp as boiling water. "You could a' saved them men, you could. Lives are just some game to you, ain't they?"
The Lady shrugged. "So you believe. Child, you're always so angry about the world. It's a great waste. You were not born to throw tantrums."
The grey eyes were doused by the unholy blue fire that flooded his irises. "No? Then why was I born? I ain't done nothin'. I can't do nothin'. I should a' helped them men, an' all I could do was see 'em die!"
A touch of pity came into the cold face. "Ah, child, it's a hard lesson and one your friend knows well. You can't save every man, and you can't save every soul. But has raging and ranting and crying out how unfair it is changed a thing?"
He glared, but the words were a subtle barb. "No," he muttered.
"Has it made you feel any better?" the Lady said.
Ryan shook his head.
"Then perhaps it isn't the solution." She cupped her hands, and blew into them softly. A sparkling mist drifted from her lips, and swelled like an expanding balloon. "You were born for more than anger. There will be little peace in your life, and perhaps in time you will learn to treasure it when it comes. But as you will. You want something you can fight?"
"I don't want to be helpless," he said glumly. "I thought...I thought this Gift would stop that."
"Very well," she said, and threw the hazy sphere into the air. Ryan blinked, and stepped back uneasily as it grew and flattened until it was a screen. "If you want a task, chosen - I will grant you one, though it gives me only sorrow."
Colours began to fill it, like fireworks bursting into fiery bloom. Settling, and clearing, until it was a picture. Ryan didn't know the place; it was as though all the moisture had been long drained from it, leaving a cracked and charred ground littered with craters like giants' footsteps, and stubs of trees. Among the shiny black earth, he caught glimpses of yellow, ivory-smooth chunks that looked like-
"Bones," the Goddess supplied placidly. "It looks like a dragon's crèche, doesn't it?"
The devastation was immense. It stretched for miles; Ryan could see nothing but the scorched terrain, rolling on and on to the horizon. And there - down there were tiny ant-like figures, picking their way through the mess.
"What is it?" he whispered, unable to drag his eyes from the scene.
"The remnants of a war, Ryan Talver. Of a mortal war, when Chaos and Order clashed, and man slew man, and man slew beast, and man slew all that stood in his way."
"The Immortals War?" he asked.
The Goddess shook her head, though he only caught the gesture in the corner of his eye. "No. This was long before your time, Ryan Talver. It had many names, but few history books will ever mention it for it was a war between few people, though many stood by and did naught. It is, I believe, a cause of great shame to those who know. The historians call it the Ashes. The mages call it the Folly. And the common people - when they knew, they called it the War of the Phoenix."
On that magical window to the past, time began to roll back; great gouts of light and fire appeared, and where they flashed, the land became green and fresh again, and he saw glimpses of people - of creatures on that plain.
"It began," she said quietly, "with this."
And Ryan saw the strangest sight; bounding over the ground, moving like a shooting star diving through the heavens, a unicorn. And behind her...four slinking, slithering shapes, quick as nightfall in the desert. And the shadows grew closer and closer to that fleeing, fleeting shape - so close they would merge-
And arrows raced through the air, arrows set alight, arrows glowing with Gifted fires, a horde, a mass that struck the hounds and felled them while the unicorn streaked on through the night.
"What was that?" he breathed, staring as the scene fizzled out, and only the charred land remained.
"They call it the Hunt, child. It comes once in seven decades, and fool men must always try to save the unicorn. Either way, they face grief. The Hunt is an evil revenge, dreamed by an evil man, and like all things Immortal, its price is high. If the unicorn dies, there shall be no joy in that place until the next Hunt, when she is reborn."
Ryan stared at the Goddess's smooth oval face. "An' if she don't?"
"Then an innocent must die. And they will die in the same violence that unicorn would have; perhaps worse. Those creatures take the shape of hounds, but they can be any creature they choose - and tonight, only three of them run."
Her eyes were brilliant as emeralds, and seemed almost sad.
"Where's t'other?" he said, almost afraid to ask.
She gestured to the blackened earth. "Beneath there. The unicorn did not die, but an innocent did, for those men with their arrows caught a hound, and subdued it under reams of spells that killed many promising, if misguided, sorcerers. Magick was so much stronger then, child. They turned that beast against an innocent who sought them for their crimes, and the two fought long and hard; and that innocent died most terribly, though she wounded the hound almost to death. But it has had many long years to heal, and that land has had long years to heal."
Her fingers moved in an odd, complex pattern, and the scene shifted.
Ryan stared. He knew that place. He knew it far, far too well. And he had known that it had only stood for some three hundred years, after earthquakes, and wars, and the whims of various despots. The capital had moved all over the country since Jonathan the First's reign, but...
"Five hundred years wields much change," she murmured, "but the Phoenix's Bane has neither moved nor changed. It will wake soon, child."
His skin seemed to have gone icy cold, and the numbness spread through his bones. "Goddess..." he said.
"I cannot help you against that," she answered sadly. "It is not my creation, and it is beyond my power."
He was looking at the castle.
Kel was never entirely sure what happened afterwards. She remembered only fearsome moments of that fight; the supernatural swiftness of those hounds, the hot-coal flash of their eyes, the stink of their breath - once, the swipe of their claws across her legs as she stabbed at shadows with her spear, and tried to control the panic raging inside her.
Men fell, and voices cried out in the night; she was knocked to her knees once, and hauled up by a bloody Dom, who had his spear in his left hand because his right hung useless. She remembered the brush of heavy fur on her hand as she thrust her weapon wildly at the gleam of teeth, remembered the clacking sound of jaws snapping.
Vaguely, orders had made their way into her mind, her knight master shouting over the howling and the growling and the shrieks. There had been only confusion and too many shadows; the night had seemed to grow dimmer when the unicorn fled like the crest of a wave soaring out to shore.
Just when Kel thought that she would collapse form sheer exhaustion, the hounds were gone, and only the Own were left.
She stumbled back, limping and wary, but back to find that though too many, far too many were wounded and battered, no one was dead - and that slender, surely foolhardy figure they had risked their lives for was laid on the ground.
"Mithros," Raoul groaned, slick with blood. His armour had been ripped clean through as though it were paper, and there were deep gouges on his arms and legs. "Our healers will be working overtime."
"With all respect, m'lord," one of the nearby men said slightly feverishly from a huddled heap on the ground, "you shouldn't have kept getting in the way of their claws."
There was tired, near-hysterical laughter. It wasn't at all funny, but Kel knew it was some kind of dumb luck they had survived. They had been lucky; lucky there were so many of them, lucky the hounds had spent more time trying to reach the unicorn than attacking them.
"If there's anyone unscathed or Gifted who isn't a healer," Raoul raised his voice, so all of them could hear, "or at least, anyone without any limbs hanging off, some torches would be useful."
"I'll go," Kel said tiredly, standing up and testing her leg. It's only a little blood, she told herself. You've had worse than this. "I'm only a bit scratched."
She heard Dom's snort of disbelief and hissed a soft 'shut up' at him.
It really wasn't too bad, she decided, hobbling off towards the horses which someone with a piece of sense had tied up by the row of shuttered houses . As she passed, she saw people peeping from the doors, people confused and bewildered. And no wonder; who expected this on a night - they must have heard the howling, and the fight...
A noise broke into her ears. A soft, repeated sound that she knew at once. Someone crying.
"Hello?" she said quietly, hand going to the dagger she carried in her belt. "Anyone there?"
There was a scuffling noise, and something - someone crawled out of the shadows. A little girl, sniffling and wiping at her nose with a ragged sleeve. "Where's Eve?" she said, looking up at Kel with scared and wide eyes. "Where'd Eve go?"
"Is Eve your mother?" Kel asked gently.
The child shook her head. "She's a...a Shang-Stormwing. She seen the unicorn and she went to fight." The child burst into noisy tears, and around her, Kel noticed doors swinging open and people stepping out; most of them holding pickaxes, or cleavers, the closest they could get to weapons. "An', an', an'...she didn't come b-back!"
A Shang? Well, that explained the unknown fighter.
"She's all right," Kel told her, starting to crouch down so she was at the child's height, and stopping as her leg screamed in protest. "Just a bit hurt-"
"Kyrie!" A man came running towards them, and swept the child up. "Kyrie, what are you doing out here? Why weren't you in bed?" He was a bear of a man, almost as big as Raoul, but there was only gentleness in the way he held the girl. "I thought you'd stopped sneaking out at night!"
"Sorry Da," the child sniffed. "I just wanted to talk to the Stormwing..."
"Kyrie, I've told you she's dangerous!" he said angrily. "Look what she brought with her, eh?"
Kel felt obliged to defend the unknown Stormwing. "That wasn't her." The man's deep-set eyes turned to her. He couldn't have been much older than forty, but his face was deeply lined.
"And who might you be, m'lady?" he asked courteously, obviously noticing the badge of the Own. "Are you of Fief Goldenlake? You wear their colours." His gaze jumped to her leg, and concern crossed his face. "And you're wounded - we've healers who'll help you. It was you fighting those...things?"
Kel smiled faintly. "It was the King's Own. We've a good many injured, and if you could send healers and some torches to the courtyard, Sir Raoul would be glad of it." She paused. "I'm not of Goldenlake though. I'm his squire."
The man blinked. "You must be the female squire then," he said slowly. There was neither approval nor disapproval in his voice until he shrugged. "Well, good luck to you, m'lady. I'll send over some healers and some food. It's the least we can do."
She thanked him, and returned to the Own for a long night of healing and explanations.
Morning found Pip loitering in one of the palace practice yards, and warming up her arms and legs with a staff. She kept her mind focused on the moves, whipping the weapon back and forth, behind her, around her sides, under her arms. It was almost a dance, though far deadlier than any made to music.
"You're very good."
The voice snapped her from the pattern, and she stopped, warming pain on her muscles and perspiration gleaming on her forehead. Her breath fogged a little in the crisp morning air; Corus had woken to find a late frost had scattered itself across the lawns.
She met the dark, cool eyes of Davir sin Porphyros, and nodded curtly.
"...for a woman," he added, and the challenge curled like a tiger's tail in that deliciously dark voice.
Pip smiled tightly, more than pain warming her now. "Oh? You're very outspoken - for a dog."
"The noblewoman stings!" he drawled, and whipped off the dark leather gloves he was wearing. "Shall I hurl this in your face and demand satisfaction, lady?"
"If you want satisfaction," she murmured sweetly, slamming the end of the staff into the packed and frozen earth, "you'd best try the court ladies. They're far better versed than I. But if you want a good fight - I'm your woman."
"My lady," he said, and she thought a flicker of humour leapt in his eyes, though it didn't show at all on the proud mouth.
"I'm no lady, Kyrios Davir." Pip lazily pulled a few strays wisps of hair into place, and pretended not to notice his raised eyebrows at the title.
"I take it you saw my arrival yesterday."
Pip laughed, and threw his own words in his face. "We are equals - and if I am to be a lady, you may as well be a knight, though you show little chivalry." Her green eyes danced with devilment. "It's rather refreshing."
"Refreshing?" His teeth gleamed white against the bronze skin. "Not, I believe, how most see it."
"I'm not most. And do you want to fight, Kyrios, or shall we just throw words about?"
"I'd much rather throw you about," he purred, and nodded to the staff. "Weapons? Or hand-to-hand?"
"I didn't know Carthaki nobles fought that way."
His smile became lop-sided. "Emperor Ozorne was not overly fond of my family. He stripped us of our title and hurled us into the gutter. I learned to fight, lady, because I would rather lose my chivalry than my life. Rules can survive being broken. People cannot."
There was a storm simmering low in his voice, and Pip thought she could glimpse threads of lightning streaking through his eyes.
"Luckily," he said, with a one-shouldered shrug, "my cousin managed to miss the streak of raving insanity that Ozorne had in such abundance, and restored the title." His face suggested further questions would not be a good idea.
"Hand-to-hand it is, then," she said.
The Carthaki nodded. He didn't move like anyone she had ever seen - there was a long, slinking grace to his movements, and if he had been a creature, Pip could all too easily see him stalking through a jungle with black fur and a lashing tail. "I will, of course, be stronger. A handicap?"
"We're not playing by chivalry," she told him curtly. "Nearly everyone I fight is going to be stronger."
He held up his hands. "As you will, my lady."
They took up the stance opposite each other, two metres apart; Pip left her hands by her sides, but kept her weight slightly on her front foot, ready to attack, or to duck quickly if she had to. Steady, she told herself, keeping her breathing even as her mind slid into that intense focus she always needed when sparring with the Shang Masters.
Black eyes met green, night clashing with spring, and he moved.
Fast, she thought, blocking the punch with one hand, and sliding her body out of the way of the swift kick that followed. Fast-
He feinted right and she caught the quick upper cut aimed at her, though it threw her back a little. His face was set, grim - as if he weren't fighting her, but some other demon.
Fast and dishonourable.
Good, she decided savagely. She didn't have to go easy on him. Pip stepped back, letting him throw the hard punches and the lightning swift kicks at her. Easy to block, after the longs hours of training, and the long years of stealthily drinking up all things Shang. She held back, testing just how good he was.
Then she stepped into his punch, making sure it slid past her ear and kicked his feet out from under him.
She was startled when the Carthaki caught her wrist on the way down, and threw her. Air rushed past, and she was rolling up on to her feet, a little frost glinting in her hair, turning in time to glimpse the kick flying at her-
(Damn me, her mind whispered, he's been Shang-trained)
And easily throw him past her, using his own momentum to make sure he hit the ground very hard indeed. She followed, and seeing him turning and ready to kick up at her, borrowed a move that was not at all Shang, but pure acrobatics, and jumped into a hand-spring that launched her over the startled Davir, to land gracefully on his other side and easily the deflect the wild punch.
He managed to get up, but Pip knocked him back to his knees, and before he could react, sent her hand slicing down to his neck in a crippling, maybe even killing chop-
She stopped a centimetre short, and met the eyes that held no fear at all, only cold defiance.
I could have killed you then, she thought, as the pair of them stayed frozen, breath fogging on the chilly air, jade and black stares locked and silent. She had to wonder what he saw in her eyes.
Then his teeth bared slowly, a challenge drawing itself up in his expression, and he drawled, "You missed."
Pip gaped at his audacity...then started to laugh. And after a moment, the Carthaki joined in, a low rolling laugh that was as charming as his manner was obnoxious.
"Are you always this arrogant?" she asked, giving him a hand up.
He brushed dirt and frost from his tousled hair, and gave her a bright feral grin. "Of course. I take my words back, my lady - you are good enough to be Shang."
She glanced at the proud face, devoid of anything but that watchful amusement. "So were you?" she said, questioning.
"I was noble," he said mildly. "But my time in the streets was - informative. As long as I kept my mouth shut, no one noticed the accent, or indeed, anything but the dirt." There was a strange look on his face. "I was trained - briefly - by the same master who taught the Stormwing."
"The Stormwing? I've not heard of her."
His expression grew bleak, his eyes colder. "She's more infamous than famous. Not...a compassionate lady, the Stormwing. She was cold as a child, and she's frozen now. Ozorne showed her family not even the shred of mercy he showed mine."
She had no answer to that.
"Tell me, my lady..." he said, leaning on the fence of the court with a small grimace - so that fall had hurt him. "The Princess Kalasin is not what I expected."
She restrained herself from remarking that neither was he, but instead, gave the statement serious consideration. "Did you know she had her heart set on being the first female page?"
He blinked his hooded eyes, though otherwise not a flicker revealed his thoughts. "No, though it doesn't surprise me. She's quite the tigress in those repulsive gauzes. One can only pity the enemy if she laid her hands on some plate armour and a battle-axe."
Pip smiled tightly. "Well, her father talked her out of it. He promised other...concessions. Some choice in her husband, for example." She couldn't help but sympathise with the Princess. She herself had come so close to being thrust into the noble's mould; look pretty, speak elegantly, marry well. "But then his majesty began bargaining with Ozorne, and it turned out Kalasin had no choice at all. And she was forced to watch Roald progressing down the road she had wanted."
Davir was listening attentively, his dark fox-sharp eyes concentrated on her. "She's not even met my Emperor. I'll admit he can be a right royal pain," she grinned at the pun, "but for all that, he's a good friend."
"I think...it's more the idea she hates than the man," Pip said slowly. "She's more like the King than anyone will ever say. And well - there's some who say she's got a streak of Duke Roger's old rebellion in her."
"Ah." The nobleman was silent for a few moments, and she could see him turning what she had said over and over. "There's fire in her soul. We have a word for it - k'shaia. It's the same word as royalty."
"It's certainly fitting," she agreed. "Will the Court be graced with your presence tomorrow, Kyrios Davir? After all, I believe the ball is being held in your...honour."
The long eyelashes drooped to shield his eyes, and she knew he had caught the gentle barb. "Perhaps. If you will agree to grace it too, lady warrior. After all - " His smile flashed. "We outcasts must stick together and you, Lady Phillippa ha Minch, are as improper as I."
She started at her name, but he only chuckled.
"Oh yes...I have heard the whispers about this lovely brazen lady who deplores fools, and therefore the Court. I have heard the whispers of her Shang training, and the strange - yet true, I believe - tale of her riding a hurrok. I have heard much about you, Lady Phillippa. I wonder...how much is true?"
She met his gaze boldly. "Truth is what you make it."
"Sharply said! Well then, shall we make it your presence tomorrow, and the first dance?" He winked, and Pip was startled to realise she liked this curious, outspoken stranger. "After all...that should ruffle a few of those feathers that they pay so much for."
"The first dance," she conceded, "and a rematch in three days time - this time with weapons, Kyrios."
The lean man stood straight, and nodded. "Very well. But I am Davir to you, Lady."
She raised her eyebrows. "Then I'm Pip."
"Pip? A seed, yes?" He threw a last parting shot at her. "And who knows what you will grow to be?"
And she was left on the practice court to wait for the Shang. But his earlier words had put an idea, a curious idea into her head, and they rolled about her mind in soft, insistent echo.
As long as I kept my mouth shut, no one noticed the accent, or indeed, anything but the dirt.
And if I...if I kept my mouth shut, who would know I was noble? she thought Who would know I was anything but a Shang apprentice?
Comments would be loved, loved, loved!
Comments would be loved, loved, loved!