Oh dear. It looks like, despite my best intentions, I'm going to be rambling on for a while. Honestly, I don't mean to. Hopefully I can wrap this thing up in under ten chapters, but somehow I have my doubts. Fifteen, max, I promise. Maybe if I get it done quickly, it won't drag on like some of the others. That's the plan, anyway, and it seems to be working. I think this is the third update today :D (I don't have a lot to do at work). As always, reviews are much appreciated.

"… not sure why he keeps the camp rat," she heard a voice say. Three guesses who he means with that, the girl thought sourly. None of Sir Rowland's men had ever had a problem with her, but lately the Count had ridden to join them while they were close enough to Corus for it not to be inconvenient, and none of his men had had exposure to the child Rowland had come to think of as his own. She wanted to go confront the man, but she knew anything she said would sound silly and childish. Though she had been living with – and at times fighting for – Sir Rowland for over three years, there were still those who questioned the knight's decision to keep her among his fighting men.

Some were well intentioned, of course. They thought an army camp was no place to raise a child. Never mind that many a child was raised in an armed camp. They would be quick to point out that those children were raised by their mothers, who had followed their men and lived in tent cities at the edges of a war. They did not act as little pages for a group of soldiers and knights, living under the same conditions as grown soldiers.

As though some of those soldiers were that much older than her in the first place. Why, they had only just picked up three new men, little more than boys really, who were fourteen if they were a day. Tyke was ten, now, the age when most pages began their service. No one could say she was too young, as they had when she first began riding with Sir Rowland. No, their objection was in the stupid eastern tradition that women couldn't ride into battle. Back in the west they would, or so she seemed to remember her father saying.

"Come away, lassie." With an effort, Tyke repressed her sigh. Coban had found her. Sir Rowland might be her guardian, but there were always those among his men that decided she needed more looking after than he gave. Coban, for all he was only sixteen, was one such. As though she couldn't take care of herself; she'd been living with the soldiers longer than he had, after all. She'd even shown him how to shoot his bow properly, so that he hit the target more often than the ground. "They're talking about ye again, aren't they?"

"Aye," she grimaced. "Just once I wish I could beat them about the head, show them what I can do."

He chuckled. "They'd not thank ye for that lesson, lassie. Make no mistake, I'm sure ye could, but what full bloodied knight would like to be bested by a wee lassie like yon?"

"It would be good for them, then."

"I don't doubt it. But later, lassie, later. Ye can scarce lift a sword now, never mind swing it against a full grown man."

"I can too lift a sword," she retorted hotly.

He laughed and ruffled her short hair. "That's a dirk, lassie, as well ye ken. But these brutes use the two handed sword, and ye'll never be big enough for one'a those. Come, now, the commander wants ye."

They made their way together towards Rowland's tent. Someone seeing them might have thought them a comical pair, the big bruiser of a lad leading a mite behind him. Anyone with eyes could see the little one itching for a fight, and if they had been any less friends, the lad (for so Tyke appeared) might have picked it with the big one, for all their differences in size.

Rowland looked up from the map he had been examining when they entered. He was alone, save for the Count, who sat at his ease in a camp chair.

"Tyke, Coban, come in," he invited.

Tyke felt the Count looking her over, and bristled. Until now she hadn't met the man they rode about the countryside for, but the few glimpses she'd had over the last few days did nothing to endear him to her. Rowland might talk of a man who was intelligent and just and brave, but all Tyke could see was an overgrown brat who let others do the work.

"So this is your daughter, Rowland."

Rowland paused over his map. "My page, sir."

"You know what they think of that, in Corus." It wasn't a question.

Rowland had turned back to his map. "I know it's unusual, sir."

"Unusual, man? It's damned well unheard of."

The big knight just shrugged. "I oft forget you were born here, sir. Some countries on the other side of the ocean do it as common practice. And, if I might remind you, it was one of the conditions where you gained the Tree-bound hold."

"Not for years. And just what is so special about this holding? We might have simply taken it later. Perhaps we'd have even gained it sooner."

Rowland glanced at Tyke. "Well sir, they're the warriors of the old countries, for one thing. Tyke is a surer shot than any of my men. As soon as she's big enough to draw a real bow, she'll be damn near unbeatable. There isn't a kitchen maid among them who couldn't take on a trained soldier."

"With enough soldiers, anyone can be beaten," the Count said dismissively.

Tyke saw the knight's mouth quirk in irritation. "That be as it may, sir, you haven't seen the fortress. I'd not relish the task of taking that. If ever there was an impregnable fortress, it was that one."

"Mages," snapped Count Jonathan.

Had he been anyone else, Rowland might have rolled his eyes. "Sir, you know how magic, it leaks."

The Count glanced at him sharply. "Yes."

"There's not a mage in the hold with eyes other than the color of their magic. Tyke's mother had blue hair, even."

Now the Count was all but staring at his knight, casting quick, almost fearful glances at the little girl who still stood in the tent's entrance. "They're that strong?"

"Tyke?" Rowland asked.

She knew what he wanted. There had been those in the past few years that had threatened the company with mages, and it had been in everyone's best interest to dissuade them from trying to carry out those threats. The other mage in the company had designed a spell for Tyke to do to scare them off in a show of power. He couldn't have done it himself, but Tyke was strong enough.

An enormous golden lion appeared next to the Count. He smiled still, but his eyes seemed a little worried. "An illusion, how nice. Any hedgewitch can make one of those, Rowland, you know that." The lion bit his arm, drawing blood. With a cry, the man leapt up, his sword flashing towards the lion, and passing through it. The lion seemed to glare at the man balefully, then disappeared.

Jonathan slumped in his chair. "How in the gods' names…?" Rowland jerked his head towards the lord and, grumpily, Tyke went over to heal the man.

"It's two spells, sir," she muttered. "One for the lion, one to stab you." Both very difficult spells, though she didn't add that. Most sorcerers knew as much already. To do both at once was more than twice as difficult as one on its own. He display of power had thus far been enough to dissuade anyone from trying anything against the group, which was fortunate. Tyke had plenty of magic, but she hardly knew how to use it, and the other mage in the group had already taught her all he knew, none of which included battle spells.

"They're all like that?" Jonathan wanted to know as he inspected his newly healed arm. His face was composed once more, but his voice shook ever so slightly.

"Most of them, sir."

The Count nodded. "I see. Well, perhaps you did rightly. The girl is a powerful weapon, for all she's still a child."

Tyke bristled at that, but Coban's gentle hand on her arm prevented her from lashing out and showing this man what else her magic could do.

Rowland finally spoke to her. "Tyke, this isn't actually what I asked you here for. We're riding east in a few days. I'd like you and Coban to scout ahead of us. Come here." She hurried to his side, and he showed her his map. "We are here. We'll strike out east, heading towards this lake here. The locals say it's about two day's ride, but I suspect it's less. Find out what you can of the area around the lake, and meet us back here in five days. I've already asked that food be packed for you, though you'll have to hunt some for yourselves." He folded the map and handed it to her. "Go with the gods, Tyke."

She stumbled when they left the tent, and Coban caught her. "Ye overdid it again, didn't ye, lassie? He always forgets what the spell does to ye."

"I'm alright, Ban, really," she sighed.

"Course you are. Nothing a little sleep and food won't fix." He ruffled her hair. "Come on, lassie, the sooner we're away from this circus, the happier I'll be."