Lioness Rampant

2 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 ember-stone 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 had been in a fight. “I hear the Earth cracking,” he whispered.

Her 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.”

Liam helped with the tray. “Your tender feelings?” he joked. “You haven’t any.”

Alanna watched as they set out the food. Clearly they’d become friends, which was good if Liam pursued her (as he clearly meant to). Coram was difficult if he didn’t approve of her romances. His feelings had made for an uncomfortable week in George’s Port Caynn house, until the two men came to a truce (it helped that Coram had fallen in love with George’s cousin Rispah).

She watched the Dragon, remembering what she’d seen of his fighting. What was he like with sword or ax? If he was as fast with weapons as he was unarmed, he’d be almost unstoppable. She was good with sword and ax and bow, but take away her weapons and she was in trouble.

How can he want me? she asked herself, puzzled. He could have any woman—why pick one who’s not even very feminine? She took the tray he gave her, blushing when their hands touched. Well, that’s part of it, she thought as she spooned up soup. Sheer physical attraction.

Once the servants cleared the dishes, the three settled back to talk. “Coram showed me your map,” Liam informed her. “He tells me you’re bound for the Roof of the World.”

“Coram’s been very talkative,” she said dryly.

The older man flushed. “Liam’s been about these parts a bit, Miss. If he can advise us on the road to take, so much the better!”

Alanna turned to Liam. “Well?”

“You should avoid Sarain.”

“Is their civil war so bad?”

Peeling an orange, he nodded. “Do you know anything about the Saren?”

“Some,” she replied, bristling at the hint she was ignorant. “I had an excellent education.”

He looked doubtful. “Nobles rarely know as much as they think they do—not about the real world. Who rules Sarain?”

Alanna scowled. She had not thought Liam might have a side she didn’t like, but this older-and-wiser-head approach got under her skin. “The jin Wilima—their title is warlord, not king. The current one is—uhm—Adigun, the third jin Wilima ruler. Two years ago rebels tried to overthrow him and crown Dusan zhir Anduo in his place. Zhir Anduo’s descended from their former kings, the zhirit Kaufain.”

Coram gave the Dragon an elbow in the ribs. “So there.”

“You are educated,” chuckled Liam.

Alanna glared at both men. “My adoptive father keeps up with things. He says zhir Anduo’s rebels won’t unseat their Warlord.”

“That was true once.” Liam poked the fire and added another log. “Jin Wilima bought mercenaries last spring. They destroyed towns, crops—people.” His eyes turned icy green. “The K’mir rebelled against both sides.”

“The K’mir are tribesmen, like our Bazhir,” explained Coram.

“Jin Wilima married one—her name was Kalasin.” Liam scratched Faithful’s upturned chin. “The most beautiful woman in the world.”

“What happened to her?” Alanna sat up, hugging her knees, intrigued by this glimpse of an alien society.

Liam shook his head. It was Coram who answered quietly, “Killed herself last summer. Her daughter Thayet’s as lovely as she was, they say.”

“But Thayet isn’t the heir,” Liam said. “The throne’s up for whoever can take it, and the K’mir promise to fight the winner.”

Alanna thought it over. “Can we avoid passing through Sarain?”

“Get a boat out of Fortress Jirokan at the border,” Liam told her. “Take it down the Shappa, then a coastal runner to Udayapur—”

Alanna blanched. “No boats!” The handful of times she’d been in one, she had been disgracefully sick.

Coram grinned. “I told ye, lad.”

The Dragon smoothed his mustache. “Then take the Shappa Road to the Inland Sea, and the Coast Road east. The war’s in the mountains and highlands, not down by their coast.”

Alanna struggled with a yawn. Liam rose. “Past your bedtime, little girl. I’ll ride with you as far as the Saren border, whichever way you choose.”

Alanna consulted Coram with a look; he nodded his approval. “We’ll be glad to have your company.” She added, “I always wanted to learn Shang fighting—the unarmed kind.”

Liam shook his head. “You’re too old.”

Alanna glared at him. “First you call me ‘little girl’ and then you say I’m too old. Make up your mind.”

“And then she’ll go to a great deal of effort t’prove ye wrong,” Coram joked as he opened the door for Liam. Returning to his knight-mistress, he drew his chair over to the bed. “I like him. He won’t let ye run him ragged.”

Alanna fidgeted with her blankets. “You don’t look ragged to me.”

“I put on a brave front,” he teased. More seriously, he went on, “Have ye decided which road we’ll take?”

“I like going straight through Sarain. We can deal with bandits, one way or another.”

Startled, Coram asked, “Ye’ll use yer Gift?”

“What’s wrong with that?”

The man shrugged. “I don’t know. I had the thought ye didn’t care to mix fightin’ and magic.”

“I don’t care to get either of us killed, if it comes to that. We can avoid the armies, if any of them are in the highlands this time of year. That way, we come to the Roof just five days’ ride from Chitral Pass. If we take the Coast Road, we’ll be two weeks riding north from Udayapur. That’s an extra nine days in those mountains in May or June.” Alanna shivered.

Coram thought it over, then met her eyes. “Not t’mention ye think a ride through the Saren highlands will be more interestin’.”

Alanna grinned. “There’s that.” She smothered a yawn. “Do me a favor, Coram?”

“It depends.” Long experience with her had made him wary.

“Tell me a story of the Dominion Jewel, please,” she suggested. “I’ve forgotten most of them.”

He sat back. “A tale, then? Ye haven’t asked me for one of them in years. Which one? Ah. Miache was a Carthaki waterfront thief, three hundred years ago. The Gallans hired her t’steal the Jewel from their own king, that was descended from Giamo—a great-great grandson, he was. Them that hired Miache wanted t’rule in his place.

“Miache stole the Jewel, right enough—and she kept it. She ran for the River Drell, the same that’s our border with Galla and Tusaine and Maren. She might’ve borne it home to Carthak, too, but for Zefrem the Bear. He was a mercenary, and a good one, headin’ south on the river when he pulled Miache out of it. Before long they were lovers. She was a pretty thing, with hair like moonglow and a heart of pure ice. Zefrem cracked that heart some, though.

“When they came t’the city of Tyra, the Carthaki navy was attackin’. The local folk were starvin’. Their nobles had run; their rulin’ duke was crazy. The only thing keepin’ Carthak out was the walls, and they couldn’t hold against Carthaki seige engines.” Faithful jumped up on the bed and curled up beside Alanna while Coram poured himself a tankard of ale. He took a good swallow and continued.

“Zefrem, now, was never a man for a losin’ fight, let alone one already lost. And Miache—she’d watch her own mother starve unless there was somethin’ in it for her. All who knew them said it had t’be the Dominion Jewel that brought them t’stay in Tyra. They didn’t even know how to use it, but it seems the Jewel used them.

“Zefrem took command, trainin’ the men who were left and buildin’ catapults to throw fireballs at the ships. Miache and the city’s swimmers, some of them younglings, they’d swim out t’harry the Carthaki navy. They even sank some of the barges full of men and catapults. Miracles started happenin’—birds found nestin’, when the city had none. Schools of fish appearin’ in canals under the city, where no fish’d been before. Men and their families began to move into the city even durin’ the war, t’make their homes and t’fight for Tyra. They didn’t know why they came. It was the Jewel, callin’ them.

“They saved Tyra, Miache and Zefrem and the Dominion Jewel. The city was a pirate’s nest when they came, a sinkhole fit only for cutthroats and thieves. They made it a lawful tradin’ city where a man’s word was a bindin’ contract. The man and woman vanished, and the Jewel came next to Norrin, but Tyra still prospers. That was three hundred years gone.”

Alanna sighed when Coram finished, moved by his tale and the matter-of-fact way he’d told it.

He got up and stretched. “Anything else?”

“Coram, thank you. For everything—for bringing me up, and helping me …”

“There, now,” he scolded gently. “Don’t go all sentimental. Ye’ll embarrass us both.” Surprisingly, he bent and kissed her forehead. “Good night, yer ladyship.”

Experience had taught Alanna how long injuries took to heal and how far she could push herself during the recovery process. She hated to stay in bed any longer than necessary. Each hour there meant more work to return to peak condition. The day after she awoke, she was outside, going through sword exercises using Coram’s broadsword. She was careful not to overdo or to rush, but she was persistent.

To the boys who loitered in the courtyard, she was a godsend. They jeered, at first. But once they saw that the lady knew how to use a sword, they grabbed sticks and imitated her. She paid them no attention. If she did, they would turn shy and run, afraid other boys would laugh. Instead, she pretended to be absorbed, and her imitators grew bolder. Their number increased. By her third day’s exercise, ten of them followed her movements. So preoccupied were the boys that they didn’t notice right away when Alanna began to correct a stance or a grip.

Liam watched. So did Coram. “She did the same, for the Bazhir lads,” he told the Dragon with pride. “She even taught our tribe’s shamans, and her learnin’ to be a shaman alongside them. Not bad for a noble, is it?”

Liam smoothed his mustache as he watched. “She’s serious about learning Shang fighting?”

Coram nodded. “Perhaps I should’ve brought her to Shang when I saw how it was with her. But she was Trebond. I never heard of a noble comin’ to ye without bein’ thrown off by their families—and none of them were lasses.”

“You did right,” Liam said. “She’s happy as the one lady knight in the Eastern Lands, your Lioness.”

Coram made a face. “She’s not my Lioness. Cooper’s, perhaps, or Prince Jonathan’s, but not mine.”

“Yours,” repeated Liam. “Yours, and Myles of Olau’s, and her brother’s. Cooper’s, too. The prince’s certainly.” He grinned. “Maybe even mine. Who knows?”

Five days after she began working out, Alanna put down Coram’s sword with a grin. The boys couldn’t understand why she was so glad to finish an exercise; for them the glory of fencing lay in the defeat of an opponent. Alanna knew she’d finished the hardest of her exercises with no mistakes, using a heavier sword than Lightning. Her body had complained only a few times, not very loudly. She was healed, and they could be on the road again!

Someone put Lightning’s jewel-studded hilt into her hand. Puzzled, she looked up to see Liam.

“Now you’re warmed up, let’s see what you can do,” he said.

It didn’t sink in right away. “What?”

“A match,” he explained patiently. “Swords alone. No kicks or punches. No tricks. I want to see how good you are.”

Alanna shrugged. Moving into the center of the yard, she took a sideways “guard” stance. She fixed on the Dragon as he took a similar position. He’s bigger and faster, she calculated. He’s more experienced, and his blade’s heavier. If the stories are true, he’s trained to be as good with either hand. Great Merciful Mother, what have I gotten myself into!

She moved to the side just a bit. Liam’s blade arced up and down with blinding speed.

Alanna swung Lightning up, blocked Liam’s sword, then broke away. The Dragon came in with a side cut; she parried and darted back, circling warily. He spun and hacked: Blocking his powerful swing made her shoulder ache. Stepping back, she assumed the two-handed guard position. He cut down and in; she responded, Lightning moving as rapidly as his blade.

By now they had an audience. Word had spread through the inn; Alanna’s boys were joined by servants, guests, hostlers, and passersby. The boys had the best seats; they watched their heroes intently. Faithful sat by Coram’s feet, his eyes slitted against the sun’s glare. He’d fetched Alanna’s companion, knowing Coram would want to see this.

The exchange stretched out in strikes, blocks, and parries, neither opponent gaining an advantage. Since Liam had ruled out the unarmed tactics that would give him the victory, Alanna could show him the full range of her skill. Coram beamed in pride: With sword—or, he would bet, with ax or longbow—Alanna matched the Shang Dragon. How many knights could make that claim?

Both Liam and Alanna were sweating heavily; her wound began to ache. Throughout the exchange she had studied the Dragon’s style as she knew he had studied hers, searching for any flaw. Now she blocked swiftly, parried his return cut, blocked him again—and came into a split-second opening, barring his sword arm with her shoulder as Lightning snaked up to kiss his throat.

They froze in place for a moment. Then Liam grinned. “You’re good.” He lowered his blade as Alanna stepped back. “I haven’t lost to a swordsman in years.”

The boys circled them to offer water and towels. Alanna drank deeply from a waterskin, pouring some onto her face. “Why didn’t you hit me, or kick me?” she panted. “You’d’ve won.”

“That wasn’t the point.” The Dragon dumped a waterskin over his head with a grateful sigh. “Are you the best in Tortall?”

“I don’t know.” She smiled gratefully at the boy who’d given her the water. “There may be some commoners better than me—I only fought knights.” Alanna wiped her face with a sigh. “Against Duke Gareth of Naxen—Gareth the Elder, not the Younger—I can win one out of three bouts. He’s the best. Alex—Alexander of Tirragen. He beat me once.” That memory hurt: Alex had nearly killed her. Her recent scar pulled as she dried her arms, and she bit back a yelp. “Thank you—I think.”

They left Berat the next day, Alanna and Faithful on Moonlight, Coram on his bay Anvil, their packhorse Bother, and Liam astride a big-boned gray he called Drifter. The weather was sunny, and the breezes hinted that spring was on its way. They spent the night in a sheltered hollow, out of the wind. Settling into her bedroll, Alanna thought she could hear the forest waking up after the winter rains. Spring was her favorite time of year. She wondered when it came to the Roof of the World.

She rose an hour before dawn to exercise. Liam was already awake, preparing to do the same thing. They came to a silent agreement and found a clearing a little distance away, where they wouldn’t disturb Coram. Faithful trotted after them, to perch on a rock where he could see everything.

She’d exercised for so long that her body knew what was expected. Habit took over, so she could keep an eye on Liam. The Dragon went through intricate routines, slow the first time, fast the second. He punched and blocked with his arms. He kicked from standing positions. Then while leaping, he flipped back and forth with a tumbler’s ease that looked odd on his heavily muscled frame. By the time he finished, he’d exercised every part of his body.

Once that was done, he wiped his face on his arm and looked at Alanna. “Come here.”

Warily she obeyed. Taking Alanna’s hand, Liam shaped it into a thumb-over-fingers fist. “Always hit with the first two knuckles,” he explained. “It’ll get easier if you practice on every flat surface you find—dirt, rock, a wall, whatever. That’s how you build enough callus to protect those two knuckles.” He held up his hands, showing her what he meant.

Liam then guided Alanna through a different punch from the one she’d learned as a page. Her fist started palm up at her waist, turning as she punched until it hit the target palm down. She punched until her right arm was sore, then switched hands.

The man circled, watching. Often he adjusted her feet or repositioned her shoulders. Once he rapped her stomach hard: “Keep those muscles tight!” Alanna blushed: He’d caught her forgetting something she already knew.

“Picture an opponent right where your punch ends—aim for the bottom of his rib cage,” Liam explained. “On me that’s the same as where my ribs end, but you aim higher. Otherwise you’ll hit most folk on the knees.” Alanna glared at him, then tried again. Later he added high and low punches, then arm blocks. “Practice till it hurts,” he said when they were finished. “You know that from fencing. You do it so much that by the time you need it, you don’t have to think. The punch or the block just happens.”

Alanna nodded, exhausted.

This was your idea, Faithful reminded her as she trudged to the stream to wash. As she rolled up her sleeves—nothing could make her take an outdoor bath at this time of year!—the cat added, When will you learn to leave well enough alone?

Alanna sighed. “When I want to stop learning, I guess.”

Coram was awake when she returned. “It’s your turn to fix breakfast,” he reminded Alanna, adding softly, “Gods help us.” Picking up his gear, he joined Liam at the stream.

Alanna ignored his comment and started to work. Liam was the first to return from the stream. He sat by the fire, watching her movements with suspicion.

“Do you put yourself through this often?” Alanna filled Liam’s bowl with porridge and handed it to him.

The Dragon sorted through his breakfast with a spoon. “Every morning, plus whatever else I fit in later. You clean your armor and weapons regularly, and you do your own exercises.”

“I don’t half kill myself. It isn’t burnt or anything,” she snapped, meaning the porridge. “I know how to cook!”

“Shang discipline is stricter than a knight’s.” He tasted his food, shuddered, and continued to eat.

“Is it worth it?” she demanded. She was stung by his attitude toward her cooking and by the idea that anyone might think themselves better than a proven knight.

He looked at her. “If something happens to my weapons, I can still protect myself and anyone else who comes along.”

Alanna shut up.

Her curiosity didn’t desert her for long. “How long have you been doing this?” she asked when they’d been riding for several hours.

Liam had to think a moment. “Thirty years, give or take a month.”

“Thirty years!”

He nodded. “I was four when the Shang Bear came to our village and looked us young ones over. Of us all, he said I ‘might do.’ I wouldn’t let me dadda alone until he sent me. Lucky I wasn’t the oldest, or I’d be a farmer now.” He looked at her and smiled. “Then I wouldn’t have met you.”

Alanna looked away. When he turned all of his charm on her, she could feel her insides melt.

Think about what you’re getting into, Faithful advised.

Alanna glared at him. “I’m not ‘getting into’ anything, and I’ll thank you to keep your opinions to yourself!” she snapped. Seeing Liam’s stare, she turned red.

“Is that a cute habit of yours, or did he really speak?” His face had an odd, tight look; his eyes were pale crystal in color.

“He talks. Sometimes other people understand him. Most of the time they don’t. Faithful is the one who decides.”

“Magic.” Liam frowned. “That’s right—you have it.”

“You have something against people with the Gift?” She suddenly felt defensive.

Their eyes met and held, until he grinned and pinched her nose. Crystal was replaced by blue-green. “Since it’s you, kitten, I’ll make an exception.”

Alanna decided it was time Moonlight had a gallop. Kicking the mare lightly, they leaped ahead, leaving the Dragon behind—for a little while.

There’s so much we don’t know about each other, she reflected as she watched Liam cook their night’s meal. I know he’s the Dragon, which means he’s brave and adventurous and probably has a temper—dragons are supposed to be fierce and protective. It means he’s a hero if ever there are real heroes.

She sighed. Will he come to the Roof with us? I’d feel a lot easier if I knew I had a Dragon at my back up there.

“Do you plan to marry?” Liam asked suddenly.

“What?” she cried, startled.

“You heard me. Your plans for the future—do they include a husband? Children?”

She fingered her ember-stone. “Give up my shield after working so hard? Spend my time at court or on my husband’s lands? I have no patience for that kind of life. Besides—I don’t know anything about children younger than ten.”

“Have you ever tried to learn?”

“When did I have a chance?” she wanted to know. “Child care is one of the few duties a squire isn’t expected to perform, Ironarm! The Bazhir never asked me to, unless a child was sick. Then I was a healer, not a nanny.” Why was he asking such uncomfortable questions?

“I just wondered why you feel you have to be all warrior or all woman. Can’t you be both?”

Coram came back from washing, sparing Alanna the need to answer Liam’s question. It was just as well—she had no answer.

How did Liam unsettle her in so many different ways? Neither Jonathan nor George had laid siege to her as he did. I wish he’d stop putting me off balance, but he doesn’t seem to want to do that, either. Liam glanced up; their eyes met and held.

Coram broke the silence, kicking the Dragon gently. “Kindly wait t’romance her till I’m not here,” he advised. “I’ve a father’s interest in my lady still. And go easy on her. She’s not used to the game ye’re playin’.”

Liam grinned; Alanna blushed. “I can speak for myself,” she protested.

If you wanted to, Faithful put in. Coram guffawed, and Alanna decided to go for a walk rather than stay to be teased.

When she returned, Coram looked up hopefully. She’d been too tired the preceding night to show him Rispah in the fire. Now she crouched and held her palms out to the flames, reaching for her Gift. Her fingers glowed with purple fire: She sent it into the flames, until they matched the color of her Gift. Rispah’s image took shape, and Coram drew close, his eyes riveted on her.

She walked away, leaving Coram in private. Where was Liam? Why had he left—because he didn’t want to intrude? Or did it have something to do with her Gift? He’d sounded very odd when he mentioned it that morning.

She checked the horses and the spring, with no luck. At last she found him in a clearing near the stream, lying under a willow.

“You use your magic a lot,” he said flatly as she drew near.

“I’ve had it all my life. I’m used to it by now.” She sat beside him, puzzled by the odd tone of his voice. “You must have seen plenty of sorcery, roaming the way you do.”

His smoky voice was quiet. “No one is Gifted in Shang.”

Reaching to pluck a stalk of wildgrass, she stopped. She couldn’t have heard correctly. “You keep us out on purpose? Why?”

He wouldn’t look at her. “The Gifted use magic for a crutch. They won’t surrender to Shang study, because they know the Gift can always win them an escape.”

“We cheat, you mean.” She bit back other angry words.

“You’d be helpless, if your Gift was taken,” he challenged.

“Of course not!”

“How do you know?”

That silenced her. She didn’t know. All her life she’d had magic, even when she’d tried to ignore it. “I can’t help being Gifted,” she replied at last. “I tried to fight it, when I was a page. Then the Sweating Sickness came and a lot of people died. Prince Jonathan would have died, too, if I hadn’t used my Gift.”

“I just told you what we’re taught.”

She wished she could see his face. “Tell me—where would your great Shang masters be without healers and their magic? Where would you be?” He didn’t answer, so she went on. “My Gift brings Coram pleasure—how else could he see Rispah?”

“Maybe the lady doesn’t want to be spied on.” There was a dangerous rumble in his voice.

“Nonsense! She agreed to it. Would you like to see the letter?” Alanna demanded sharply, her temper rising. “My tribe would’ve fallen to hillmen, without my Gift and the Gifts of my students. I use my magic to heal, to pay back for some of the lives I take. What do you do to repay?”

“Whatever it is I do, Lady Pry, I do it with my own two hands!” She started to get up, and Liam held her back. “Alanna, wait! I didn’t mean—I have a temper.”

“So do I,” she snapped. She let him pull her down beside him again.

“Shang allows healers to work on us, it’s true. The students are Giftless. Not so much because the masters think people use it for a crutch as because they know training a Gift takes the student’s attention away from other things. When you follow Shang, you follow only Shang—if you’re to succeed.” He stroked Alanna’s hair. “Don’t scowl so, kitten. You’ve got me shaking in my boots.”

“I can’t change what I am,” she told him, cooling off. “I never asked to be half witch and half warrior.”

“I know.” The Dragon sighed. “Listen. I got heated up because I’m—because I’m afraid of magic.”

Was he teasing? She was in no mood for it! “You aren’t afraid of anything.”

“Everyone’s afraid of something.” He had a point, and she knew it. “I fear dying for nothing. I fear being sick—my grandda took a wound and rotted to death.” She patted his arm in sympathy but didn’t interrupt. “I hate being helpless. Then what’s the good of being a Dragon?”

“Or a Lioness,” she whispered.

He nodded. “But I’m also afraid of the Gift—I don’t even let healers use magic on me. Some folk are afraid of spiders—with me, it’s that.”

Alanna shuddered; she hated spiders with a passion! “I never heard of someone fearing magic, not like that. Disliking it, yes.”

“Well, I’m afraid of it.”

She fingered the stone at her throat. “Liam?”

“What?”

“How …” She felt herself blush and was grateful for the dark. “How can we be—well, anything—if you fear my Gift?”

He put his arms around her, gathering her close. “I want to try anyway. What about you?”

“I don’t know you very well at all,” she whispered, half complaining. “You don’t know me.”

He was smiling. “That’s the fun of it, kitten.” He kissed her gently, then passionately, and Alanna surrendered. Any misgivings she had were put away for thought at another, less interesting, time.

Liam was shaking her gently. From the other side of their banked campfire she heard Coram’s snore. “Let’s go,” the Dragon whispered.

“Go where?” she yawned.

“You won’t learn Shang fighting in bed.”

She started to protest, and thought the better of it. Even at this hour she wanted his good opinion. Never mind that her arms felt as if they weighed triple what they usually did. He’d probably felt worse and still had gone about his morning routine. This was my idea, she prodded herself. Stifling a moan—Coram at least would have his sleep!—she obeyed.

Fortress Jirokan was a well-fortified town, with a tent city outside its walls. Coram pointed at the river where a barge filled with people made its way downstream. “They’re fleein’ the Saren War,” he explained to Alanna as they rode toward the town gates. “Like as not their farms were burned or looted. Now they hope Maren’ll grant a place for them to start again.

“The boats take them south. The king’s too smart to keep all these rootless folk in one spot.” The Dragon nodded in the direction of the tent city. Now that she was closer, Alanna saw furniture piled in the mud and a wide variety of animals: cows, dogs, goats, horses, pigs, and chickens. People dressed in tattered, dirty clothes stared at the travelers on the road. “These camps are trouble. They breed thieves and killers. South Maren has room to feed them and land for new farms.”

Alanna was silent as they entered the city and made for the inn Liam recommended. There was nothing she or Liam could do for the Saren refugees. Poverty was an illness she couldn’t cure; a civil war could not be stopped by just one knight. That’s something Liam and I have in common, she told herself. I don’t like feeling helpless, either.

The inn was the Mongrel Cur; it lived up to Liam’s recommendation. She spent the afternoon bathing, washing her hair, mending her clothes—simply relaxing. She wrote to Myles, Halef Seif, and Thom, although it would be weeks before she could hear from them. At last cooking smells called her to the common room and her dinner.

Liam suggested that they avoid notice in this restless town: He would not wear Shang insignia, and she and Coram should leave in their rooms anything to suggest that Alanna was a knight. That suited Alanna, who wanted to spend her time in Jirokan quietly. She dressed in boy’s clothes, but to be safe, tucked a dagger at the small of her back. Whistling cheerfully, she slung Faithful over a shoulder and went downstairs.

Liam and Coram had waited for her. As soon as she joined them, the waiters brought their food. A charmed serving girl bore Faithful away “to see what we might get a handsome fellow like you.” The cat shamelessly played up to his admirer.

Marenite Guardsmen and their women arrived to begin a night of drinking as the travelers finished their meal. Ignoring the soldiers, Coram and Liam played chess; Alanna divided her attention between the game and the Guards. Faithful rejoined them, his stomach full after his kitchen excursion.

The biggest of the Guards was a sergeant who looked as ill-tempered as he behaved. Clearly his men knew he was in a foul mood; they kept away from him. His lady, however, was bored by his sulks and didn’t care who knew it. Alanna watched as the lady tried to tease her sergeant into a better frame of mind. When this tactic failed, her eye began to rove until she saw Liam. Until that point Alanna had no personal involvement in the woman’s behavior. Forgetting that she was dressed like a boy—and that in the ill-lit room it would be hard to see the feminine shape under her clothes—she glared a warning. The lady didn’t notice.

The sergeant wasn’t aware that his companion’s attention had strayed. “Back in a minute, darlin’,” he belched. Getting up, he made for the privy.

The moment the huge Guard was out of sight, his lady moved to Alanna’s table. It was Liam’s turn to move: His attention was locked onto the chessboard. Coram saw the expression on his knight-mistress’s face. He looked up to see the reason for Alanna’s scowl and grinned.

“So quiet ye lads are,” the woman purred as she put a hand on Liam’s shoulder. The Dragon glanced up, surprised. “Don’t ye care for female … companions?”

Alanna rose and hissed, “Where I come from, it’s considered polite to keep to the man you’re with.”

Startled, the woman glanced at her: She hadn’t noticed anyone but the big fellow. Why did this youth interfere? “What—the boy’s in love wiv’ ye, then?” she asked Liam. Liam chuckled and looked the woman over.

Coram clapped a hand over Alanna’s mouth, pushing her into her seat. “She can’t see ye’re a girl!” he whispered into her ear. “Liam can take care of himself!”

Coram took his hand away too soon. Alanna snapped, “What’re you looking for, Liam? Fleas?” Her guardian sighed and corked his knight-mistress up again.

The lady ran scarlet nails through Liam’s hair. “Lads’re no fun, and this one don’t look like he knows much. Now me, I appreciate a man.”

Liam grinned at her as a muffled yell burst from Alanna. Coram put his lips close to the struggling knight’s ear. “D’ye want him t’think ye’re jealous? Ye’re givin’ a fair imitation of it.”

His words nettled Alanna. She didn’t want Liam Ironarm thinking any such thing! She quieted, and Coram loosened his grip. “I just don’t like people who’re so obvious!” she whispered back, knowing she was jealous.

A roar of fury split the air—the sergeant had returned. Anyone who thought he might be in the middle when battle lines were drawn moved quickly. The lady backed away from Liam.

Alanna saw the Dragon’s eyes turn a pale green before he turned to face the enraged Guard. “This isn’t what you think,” he said quietly.

The sergeant wasn’t interested. “On your feet!” He grabbed the Dragon’s tunic.

Liam grasped the sergeant’s wrist. “Forget this. I’m Liam Ironarm, the Shang Dragon—you’ll get hurt.”

The other man laughed. “Expect me t’think a Shang warrior’d sit with us ordinary folk?” His muscles bulged as he tried to lever his victim up.

Liam’s hands tightened. For a second nothing happened, then the bigger man howled in pain. Liam stood, and the Guard was forced to back away, unable to break his hold. Finally the Dragon released him. “The next time you’re told someone is Shang, pay attention.” He faced Alanna and Coram. “This place is too lively for me.”

The sergeant threw himself at Liam’s back. Alanna started to her feet, reaching for her knife; Coram tugged her down.

Liam dropped and twisted, boosting the bigger man over his shoulder. The Guard crashed into a table, to the fury of its occupants. He threw them aside with a curse and charged Liam. The Dragon pivoted, driving his left foot out into his attacker’s belly, then his chin. The sergeant dropped like a stone.

Two of the Guards rushed to help their comrade. Liam kicked a sword out of one Guard’s hand and flipped the other onto a table, then waited for the next attack—none came. He picked up the sergeant, asking, “Anything broken?”

“Hunh?” The Marenite was dazed.

Professionally, the Dragon checked his victim, then let him slide back to the floor. “You’ll live.” He glanced at the others, who seemed well enough, then beckoned to Alanna and Coram. “Let’s find someplace quieter.”

The crowd backed away as they made for the door. Alanna peered back: The troublesome lady knelt by her sergeant, cooing to him. Grinning, Alanna followed her friends.

Midnight found Alanna and Liam seated on a wall overlooking the Shappa River. Coram had left in search of a card or dice game; Faithful went to meet a lady cat yowling in her master’s garden. Alanna and Liam had visited the tent city to question the refugees about conditions in Sarain. Now they listened to the river and the distant howl of a wolf.

“I like how you fought back there,” Alanna said sleepily. “No mess, no broken bones, no dead. Nice.”

“I’m glad they took the hint,” yawned Liam.

“Traveling with you is fun.” She hesitated, then asked, “Did Coram tell you why we’re bound for the Roof of the World?”

“He said you had a map for some treasure. It makes no sense, risking your lives for gold that might or mightn’t be there. But you have no better plans—”

“It isn’t gold,” she interrupted quietly. “It’s the Dominion Jewel. I want to find it and bring it home, for the glory of Tortall.”

He smoothed his mustache, as he often did when he was thinking. “Not to mention that the deed would prove you’re worthy of your shield.” He jumped down and held his hands up to her. She slid into his grasp, and they kissed. “Gifted one, when it comes to a hero’s deed, you don’t think small.”

“Liam?” She tried not to plead. “What’re you doing next?”

“Riding with you and Coram, I expect.”

It was barely dawn. Liam was dressed when he woke Alanna. “You want to learn Shang, you keep Shang hours! Up!” He reached for the water pitcher.

She tumbled out of bed. “I’m up!”

“The stableyard, five minutes,” he commanded. He slammed the door behind him. Alanna lurched to her feet.

You’re ruining my rest, Faithful grumbled.

Alanna dashed cold water on her face. “Good!” Dressing, she wailed, “Why did I pick a man who’s a grouch in the morning?”

The Marenite Guardsmen said they were crazy to enter Sarain, but they let Alanna’s party through. The difference between the nations was soon clear: Healthy Marenite farms gave way to burned-out homesteads. Often they found the leavings of refugees who’d camped on the Great Road before crossing into Maren. The road was deserted.

Alanna worked at her lessons. Liam grew less gruff at exercise time when he saw she practiced longer than she had to and complained less than most beginners. He taught her only a few hand blows, the arm blocks, and two kicks. But in these he drilled her endlessly, watching for the tiniest flaw. At night they shared a bedroll, with Coram’s unspoken approval.

The first evidence of fighting lay by the road, four days’ ride into Sarain, in a meadow. Here the dead had been piled up and left, until only skeletons remained.

Faithful came along as Alanna went to the mound’s edge. Whoever left the dead made no attempt to separate the enemies: K’miri armor, lacquered bright red, blue, or green, shone against rusted lowland metal. Bone hands still clutched weapons. Kneeling, Alanna slid a lowland sword out of the pile.

“Heavy fighting,” she murmured, showing her cat the nicked and scored blade. “Some archery at first, but close quarters after. An ambush?”

“A world of difference between a good king and a bad one.” The voice was Liam’s. He crouched beside them, taking the sword to inspect it. “In five years Adigun jin Wilima has destroyed the work of generations.”

“It looks as if he really tried,” Alanna said. Was this what might happen in Tortall if Jonathan died without an heir or someone tried to take the throne? Would the Dominion Jewel prevent this kind of civil war?

“They deserved better.” Liam touched a K’miri arm guard decorated with a sunburst pattern. His eyes were a stormy blue-gray. Turning abruptly, he rejoined Coram and the horses.

Alanna stayed, arranging twigs into a pyramid.

The Jewel doesn’t create great kings, but it helps those who are to prosper, Faithful told her. Never forget, though, it won’t stop a king who wants to build an empire, starting with the conquest of his neighbors. It’ll help him, too.

“All good weapons can be turned against you.” Alanna drew a piece of cord from a pocket, fashioning it into a knotted loop. Carefully she lowered it until the loop encircled the pyramid. She stood, dusting off her hands. “I suppose this will upset Liam. D’you think I made a mistake, being his lover when he’s afraid of the Gift?”

Faithful retreated, knowing what she had in mind. It doesn’t matter what I think. You’ll do what you want to—you always have.

Reaching toward the cord-encircled sticks, she beckoned. Flames bit into the pile. Alanna touched the ember-stone to see her spell: Now the dead were covered by a purple haze sprouting flames. Her cord was a circle of power that kept the fire from spreading. Releasing the ember, she saw the fire of her Gift vanish. The flames were real; they mounted higher and higher among the bones and trappings.

Liam said nothing when she joined the men, but he was pale and sweating. He really is afraid of magic, she realized. The knowledge depressed her: It confirmed the end of their romance at its beginning. Someday she would have to leave him—no love would last when he feared part of her. They all rode on, watching the land, listening for any out-of-place sound. The mound of bones had made them nervous.

“I’d druther we was jumped. Get it over with,” Coram grumbled softly. He and Alanna unpacked after stopping for the night; Liam had gone to hunt fresh food. Food was not a problem yet: Knowing conditions ahead, they’d gotten extra provisions at the Mongrel Cur.

“I know what you mean,” Alanna sighed. “Where are the armies?”

“Bedded down for the night, I hope.” It was Liam, returning with a string of fish. “All the same, let’s stand watches. I smell woodsmoke.” He gave the fish to Alanna, whose turn it was to cook.

Coram built a fire, keeping it small and smokeless. They cooked and ate in silence, listening. The meal over, Faithful went out to prowl; the humans worked on personal tasks. Alanna was beginning to relax when the cat scrambled into their circle.

People, he hissed. Women and infants. On the other side of the ridge!

Putting their work aside, they buckled on sword belts. Coram indicated silently that he would guard the horses. Liam and Alanna made for the ridge, moving noiselessly through brush and trees. When they reached the top, Liam signaled Alanna to go to cover. She frowned: Having grown away from a squire’s obedience, resuming it even a little came hard. She also knew to bow to Liam’s extra years on the road.

The people were below, following the stream. Alanna tried for a better look, wondering if she could get closer.

A voice growled, “Tell the big one to drop his blade, or I put a bolt through you.”