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A black lump dropped from a roof, clinging to one man’s scalp. Trying to dislodge Faithful, the thief fell into an axe’s downswing. He lost his life. A second later the axeman was down, a victim of Alanna’s rapid side-cut. She could hear Coram gasping. Sweat dripped into her eyes.
Alanna’s left arm stung. She reversed Lightning in a crescent, killing the man who’d wounded her. She was bleeding, but she didn’t dare stop to bind the cut.
Faithful launched himself again, yowling fiercely. Coram shouted and was down, bleeding from the thigh. Alanna swung to stand over him, her brain coldly taking charge. Later she’d remember that sweat stung in her eyes, that her arm hurt, that she was scared for Coram. Now she blocked and cut like a machine, looking everywhere at once.
For a moment Lightning was caught under an axe blade. Trying to free her sword, Alanna was knocked down by a staff. Cursing, she rolled to her feet. Before she had her balance, two thieves leaped on her, forcing her down.
One gripped her arms, yanking them behind her back. Alanna bit her lip to keep from screaming. She’d always been afraid this would happen. Disarmed, in the clutch of a stronger opponent, she was trapped. The second rogue grinned at her, reaching for her tunic.
The street echoed with an animal roar. Something shot into the man in front of Alanna: he rammed into a nearby wall and was still. Liam hit the ground on both feet, spun and kicked back into an attacker. The man seemed to leap backward, sprawling yards away. The Dragon shifted, his leg furling up and out, streaking toward Alanna. She froze, and Liam’s kick struck the man gripping her. She was free.
Liam grinned, then whirled to face the last killers. They fought and died, the street echoing with the Dragon’s cry. Alanna’s hands worked as she watched, cutting up her tunic for a bandage. Kneeling by Coram, she examined his bleeding thigh.
“It’s not bad,” Coram assured her through clenched teeth. “I’ve had worse. He’s a sight, isn’t he?”
Alanna nodded as she tied the bandage over the wound, pressing to stop the bleeding. The stories she’d heard about Shang came nowhere near the truth. The Dragon went from blow to kick in a blur. When he struck a man, that man went down and stayed down.
“Ye’re bleedin’,” Coram rasped, holding her arm. “Ye must have it seen to.”
Alanna barely heard him. Awed by Liam, she whispered, “I’ll never be that good.”
Coram snorted. “I’ve news for your ladyship.” He sat up, replacing her hands on the bandage with one of his own. “Ye’re just as quick, with a sword in yer hand.”
Silence returned. Those of their attackers who were able had fled. The ones who remained were either too badly hurt to run or were dead.
The Dragon came to Alanna and Coram, examining a tear in his sleeve. “You’re all right?” He looked worriedly at Alanna, who was beginning to feel dizzy and a little sick. Coram reached up, and Liam helped him to his feet. “I was coming back from the home of a friend, and I heard the noise. Don’t you know enough to stay out of trouble?”
Faithful came out of the shadows, his tail switching irritably. We do, the man and I. She doesn’t.
Liam glanced down at the cat, frowning. “Did...? No.” He caught Alanna as she faltered and dropped in a faint.
“It didn’t look like a bad wound,” Coram said, taking Alanna’s left hand and examining the cut running across her forearm. Then he swore, seeing the wound reached up the back of her arm to the shoulder. Alanna’s shirtsleeve was thick with blood. “I’ll tear a bandage,” he ordered Liam, pulling off his tunic. “We’d best take her to the inn fast—Windfeld can fetch a healer.” Quickly he reduced the garment to strips and formed a bandage for the knight’s arm. Once it was in place, he set off down the street.
“Does she often do this?” the Dragon asked, following with Alanna.
“She’s worn herself out other ways before this, silly lass. She’s quick t’tell ye when to stop, but she never thinks maybe she should listen to her own advice.”
When they reached the Wandering Bard, Windfeld took over. In the space of a few minutes a healer was seeing to Alanna while another stitched Coram’s thigh. Liam went to the kitchen and returned with a mug of tea for Coram. The man-at-arms took one sniff and coughed.
“What’ve I ever done to ye?” he demanded.
Liam grinned. “It smells better than it tastes. Drink it—I’ve had to myself. Shang taught us all manner of herb-lore, in case we get caught with no healer near.”
Coram shrugged and obeyed, choking as the stuff went down. He felt better almost immediately. “Whatever it is, it works. I don’t want t’know what it is,” he said quickly when Liam opened his mouth.
“It’s only herbs. Your lady gets the same, when she wakes up. Now—who were those men?”
“Messengers, of a kind. From an enemy of—of a friend of hers.” Coram blushed. Liam raised an eyebrow, but the older man shook his head. He was not going to tell an almost-stranger, not even this one, the whole truth. “Someone who knew that if she was killed, it’d hurt Cooper—her friend.”
Liam yawned and stretched. Coram was envious. The redheaded man looked as if he’d been exercising hard, not fighting. “Well, this Cooper’s unhurt, and the two of you will heal.”
Coram got up stiffly and offered Liam his hand. “We owe ye our lives. We won’t forget.”
Liam returned his grip. “You’d’ve managed, I think. I just speeded things along.”
two
The Road East
She supposed she was sleeping. Her twin brother, the sorcerer Thom, stood before a tomb with his hands upraised. His Gift, violet-colored like her Own, glittered around him. Thom was pale, sick-looking. The door to the tomb began to open.
Thom looked at her. “I don’t have enough power to shut it. I need your Gift. And I need that.” He reached for the emberstone at her throat. She clung to it. “No, Thom! The Goddess gave it to me. I’ll never take it off!”
“Calm down.” The voice was male, warm. “Keep your trinket.”
She dreamed again. George Cooper sat at Myles’s desk, staring moodily at a painting. With surprise she saw it was a miniature of her in gold-washed chain mail, her lioness shield at her feet. Did he have it painted from his description of her?
There were silver threads in his dark hair. “But you aren’t even thirty!” she protested.
He didn’t hear. “Who will you be, my darlin’?” he asked the painting.
The door flew open. Jonathan entered, looking as if he’d been in a fight. “I hear the Earth cracking,” he whispered.
He
r eyes flew open. “Coram!” she yelled, scared because she felt so weak. She was in bed.
“He’s sleeping.” Liam stood beside her, a steaming mug in his hands. “He didn’t lose as much blood as you, but he still tires fast.”
Alanna sat up. Outside rain fell; somewhere closer a fire crackled. If only her head would stop spinning! “How’d you get to be assistant nurse?”
He winked at her. “Coram trusts me. Don’t you?”
In spite of herself, Alanna smiled. “Not a bit.”
Liam shook his head. “So young, and so cynical. Drink this.”
Coram would have warned her about the brew, had he been there. As it was, she took a good swallow before she even noticed the smell. It was nasty, bitter stuff with herbs in it. Her stomach tried to heave. With an act of will Alanna made it stay put. Closing her eyes, she went back to sleep.
Liam was by the fire when she woke again. Faithful curled beside him, purring—the big man plainly had the cat’s approval. The scent of meat cooking rose from downstairs, making Alanna’s mouth water. She was hungry!
Liam smiled. “About time.” He gave her another mug of tea, one that smelled far better than the last. “Sit up and try this. If it stays down, you can eat.”
Alanna obeyed, still amazed that the Shang Dragon should have an interest in her. His tea tasted of cinnamon and oranges.
His eyes held hers until she blushed. Lifting her hand, he kissed it—his lips were warm. This gets more interesting all the time! she thought.
“Enough of that.” It was Coram, bearing a heavily laden tray. “If ye’re not embarrassin’ each other, ye might think of my tender feelin’s.”
