The Protectors war

Chapter Twenty-One

Sutterdown, Willamette Valley, Oregon

August 24th, 2007 AD-Change Year Nine

Juniper received the Protector's ambassador in Sutterdown's town hall, which had once-long before the Change-been a church; the broad high-ceilinged room that had been the nave was usually used for public meetings these days, plus dances and sundry social events; banners and wheat sheaves and horns-of-plenty on the walls remained from the last such. His party carried a flag of truce, and in any event the horse fair itself was peace-holy, sacred to Epona and sanctuary for all but those formally outlawed.

Which Eddie Liu should be. And we're in for a blizzard of formality, Juniper thought. Then: Sacred to Epona:

She shivered slightly at that thought and instead watched Eddie Liu approach, the boots of his party sounding hollow on the hardwood floorboards. Mackenzies with bows across their backs and spears grounded before them waited silent and motionless along either side of the aisle, looking a little strange in the Victorian-era room with its plastered roof and tall arched windows, and a mixed crowd waited behind them. Tom Brannigan sat beside her, and Sam Aylward on the other side; Mike and Signe Havel were at one end of the table, Mathilda Arminger at the other, and the Clan's banner of antlers and moon hung on the wall behind. Conspicuously, the Clan's Bearkiller allies had their sheathed swords lying on the table before them; equally, the ambassadors were unarmed-even Mack, Liu's giant two-legged Doberman, though he could probably pluck a normal man apart. From the crowd behind the Clan's spearmen, she could see Little John Hordle giving the massive figure of the bodyguard a considering glance.

Juniper glanced at the half-dozen following Liu and Mack, tramping stolidly in a column of twos. They were supposedly servants, clerks and attendants, but they all had the broad-shouldered, thick-wristed build of men who swung swords for hours every day, and from their slightly rolling walk they rode just as often. Hard-faced young men, wary and silent, their eyes flicking across the faces around them in unfriendly appraisal. She was reminded of nothing so much as a group of large, silent, hungry and not-very-sweet-natured cats.

Protectorate knights, she thought. Too young to have been among the SCA re-creationists or gangbangers or university students who'd made up Arminger's earliest cadre, but certainly their younger siblings, and those of their friends and retainers.

And more dangerous than the first set, this younger generation. They're not just thugs. Which doesn't mean they aren't thugs, too.

"Lady Juniper, my master Norman Arminger, the Lord Protector of the Portland Protective Association and liege lord of its dependencies, sends his greetings," Eddie Liu said formally. That sort of thing always sounded a little strange in his Brooklyn accent. "I speak in his name and with his voice."

Equally formally, he went to one knee, removed his silver-banded hat and bowed his head, and so did his followers, in unservantlike unison. Several of them also made an unconscious gesture with their left hand and foot, to move nonexistent sword sheaths out of the way. Kneeling was Protectorate protocol, and they had to show the same respect for a foreign head of state that he would for a public audience with the Lord Protector.

"As I speak for the Clan Mackenzie, being Chief of the Clan by the Clan's choice, and I send my greetings to him through you, Baron Liu," Juniper said coldly.

I'd really like to send a spear through the both of you, you little weasel, she thought, but did not let it show.

"I acknowledge you as his ambassador. So long as you and yours don't break my peace, you are safe." She allowed herself a chilly smile. "And if you do break it, I will kill you." Then she leaned forward a little. "All right, my lord of Gervais, what is your message?"

"The Lord Protector wants his daughter back, of course," Liu said. "He sent me because you didn't answer your mail. And he wants me to check on her."

"Returning her is going to take more than a request," Juniper said dryly. The girl's face was white and strained.

"The Lord Protector protests at your breaking the laws of war, and the truce agreed in Change Year Four," Liu went on doggedly.

He ignored the snicker of laughter from the audience, and Havel 's audible snort. So did Juniper.

"I've protested border violations by Protectorate nobles and border commanders rather frequently," she said, and paused for a second to let Not least by you, Eddie Liu, Marchwarden and Baron Gervais come through without the need for words. "But that's ground we've covered before."

To her surprise, Liu nodded. "Yeah, Lady Juniper, the Protector thought you might see it that way. He also wants me to check that Princess Mathilda's all right-that you're treating her right-and to bring some of her stuff. If you're not treating her right, he wants me to warn you that he threatens war."

"He threatens war every time he notices we're still breathing and not taking orders from him," Juniper said. "But despite that, we're still breathing-and still free."

Liu's hand clenched on an absent sword hilt, which was an indication of how long it had been since the Change in itself. Juniper held up a hand to silence the baying laughter of her people, and then indicated Mathilda with it.

"You can see the girl's in good health-we don't harm children. As for how she's treated, she's sleeping in the same room as me and my son, eating at the same table, and not doing anything my son doesn't."

Liu's lips thinned. That wasn't how she was treated at home, of course, but he could scarcely complain now, after the Mackenzie chieftain proclaimed that Mathilda was being handled like her own child.

He ducked his head. "I'd like to talk to the princess myself," he said. "And I've brought some of her things-her favorite horse, some clothes, her cat, and a lady-in-waiting. The Protector won't begin serious negotiations unless you allow her to have her belongings."

Juniper's eyebrows went up, as Mathilda gave a little bounce of glee.

I wonder if that's for the horse, the cat, or the nanny? she wondered. But: that implied he would negotiate seriously if she did allow it.

If only his word were good, we might get a nonaggression treaty useful as something besides toilet paper out of this. Unfortunately, his word isn't good the minute you're not holding something over his head. I don't know what we're going to do with Mathilda, really:

"That at least seems reasonable, Lord Gervais," she said cautiously. "Let's arrange it."

"Hi, kid," the Marchwarden said. "You OK, Princess?"

Mathilda smiled broadly and hugged him. "Sure, Eddie," she replied. "I'm fine-but I miss Mom and Dad."

"Yeah, they miss you too," the blue-eyed man with the Asian face said. "Your goddamn cat missed you plenty, going by the way he's been yelling his head off all the way here."

Odd, Juniper thought, watching with her arms crossed on her chest; she and Astrid were alone with Liu and Arminger's heir in an office room, bare now save for a table and chair. Astrid stood in a corner, with her long single-edged sword drawn, the point resting at her feet, her strange silver-streaked eyes chilly in their focus on Liu.

Juniper wouldn't have wanted to be the object of that gaze; you could forget what else Astrid was, if you thought only of her eccentricities or her loopy charm. It was wise to remember what happened when she used that sword. Movement like moonlight flickering on water as it tumbled over rapids, a beautiful smiling image of inescapable death.

All the more terrifying to see, because you know what she's seeing is ancient glories and heroes out of song and story. Even when shrieking ruin kicked its heels and loosened its bowels in a last rattle at her feet.

Sam Aylward might have been a better choice in the unlikely event something went violently wrong, but possibly not, and he was off organizing the trip back to Dun Juniper. Liu ignored Astrid as if she were a wall ornament; but then, there had never been any doubt about his nerve, and he knew her safe-conduct was good.

It was disorienting to see a child beaming at him, though. Hard it is to think of anyone actually liking Eddie Liu: I suppose some people must, though. His mother, perhaps; and he has a wife and children of his own. And it would serve his ends to have Mathilda his friend from childhood, which he's smart enough to recognize.

Mathilda was indifferent to the boxes of clothing, but she gave a cry of delight when the carrying case with the airholes was opened. A mewling growl came from within; she lifted out a large, black, very unhappy cat and cried: "Saladin!"

They don't travel well, Juniper thought, watching the beast's mad lemon yellow eyes and noting its ruffled fur and bottled tail. Particularly in a box strapped to a pack-saddle.

"That tom is fixed, isn't he?" she asked.

It was unlikely to be much happier in Dun Juniper, away from its territory and forced into association with a half-dozen strange felines. Spraying was something she didn't need. What had Mike called cats once? Little furry Republicans.

"Oh, yes," Mathilda said, lifting it up under the fore-limbs, which made its hind pair splay open. "And he's a good cat. Well, he likes to break things and claws furniture sometimes and he'll bite if he doesn't like the way anyone but me pets him, and he sort of hates other cats, but apart from that he's a good cat."

He's a cat with murder on his mind, Juniper thought, amused, noting ears laid back and whiskers bristling and claws slipping out of their sheathes. Even if he lets you hold him like that normally, he's not in the mood right now, by the cats who draw Freya's chariot!

"Better put him back in the box for now," she said.

"The other Kat's waiting," Liu said, with a hint of a nasty edge to his smile.

Mathilda's brows went up. "Dad sent Katrina?" she said, surprise in her voice. "Oh, that's OK," she said, turning to Juniper. "She's one of my tutors. Not my nanny, though. But Nan 's sort of old, she's over forty, so I suppose they didn't want her taking a rough trip."

Juniper nodded, slightly surprised that either of the Armingers would show a servant that much consideration, and made a gesture of assent. Liu bowed and went to open the door. A woman came through: youngish, of medium height, with hair cropped to a halo of black curls, a rather hard good-looking face, and impassive blue eyes. She was dressed in practical traveling garb, not the trailing dresses upper-crust females in the Protectorate usually affected.

"Lady Katrina," Liu said, inclining his head.

"My lord," she replied distantly, returning the gesture. Then a genuine smile for Mathilda: "Hi, sprout! You OK?"

"Why does everyone keep asking me that?" Mathilda said, a little of the old waspish note in her voice. "Sure. You, Kat?"

"You bet, sprout, except that we're both in bad company here."

"Oh, they're not so bad, for rebels," Mathilda said generously. "Sort of weird, but OK. Did you hear about Rudi and the horse nobody else could ride?"

"Yes. Did you see it?"

"No." Mathilda pouted slightly and kicked at the floor. "I was watching this guy with a dog that climbed up a ladder." More brightly: "But Rudi showed me the horse later. Hey, it's a real pretty horse!"

"That's good; I've got Lion with me for you to ride, by the way. Everyone's been treating you properly?"

"Well, not properly like Mom and the people back home do. But nobody's been mean to me at all and sometimes things are fun. I just miss home and Mom and Dad and everyone."

Katrina bent the knee to Juniper. "Katrina Georges, Lady Juniper," she said.

Juniper cocked an eye at the way the young woman moved. "Pleased to meet you," she said, and extended a hand.

Georges looked uncertain for a moment whether Juniper expected a handshake or a suppliant's kiss on the fingers, then took it in a quick firm clasp. There was a ring of callus around the forefinger and thumb of her right hand, and the grip was very strong when Juniper squeezed a little. Some things just couldn't be disguised.

Aha, she thought; then aloud: "What exactly do you tutor Mathilda in, Ms. Georges?"

"Ah: I'm the physical-education tutor, Lady Juniper. And the riding instructor. But I'm also qualified to teach the princess in most subjects for a while at least."

Probably true, since she knows I can check, Juniper thought. Does Arminger think I'm going to underestimate her because she's a woman, the way one of his testosterone-poisoned barons might? Or is he just taking out insurance, as I would if Rudi were being held hostage, sending someone like Astrid or Sam to look after him?

"She can attend our school at Dun Juniper with my son, if we haven't come to an arrangement with her parents before then," Juniper said coolly; the term started in September, roughly when the fall rains came, and ran until March.

Georges nodded. "I have the princess's personal school-books, and copies of some of her favorite reading," she said.

"I'd best have a look at that."

The tutor unslung a small leather trunk from her back and put it on the table. The trunk was newish, and also very well made-the combination bespoke great wealth these days, the ability to command the services of the rare skilled artisans. The surface was tooled around every edge in Greek keys, the corners were wrought brass, and the lock was a silver saint's face. When it opened, the interior was lined with fine linen, a contrast to the fairly shabby look of most of the volumes within. There were a couple of classic children's booksPooh, for starters-readers and grammars, arithmetic primers, a geography text and an atlas. And a number of paperbacks:

"Is this something you know about, Astrid dear?" Juniper asked, reaching in and picking one out. There hadn't been many things to smile about this day:

She held up a slim volume with a bluish cover, showing an erupting volcano and someone riding a very stylized pig. Astrid's eyes narrowed, and she came out of the almost hieratic trance of watchfulness. Juniper smiled as the young woman fumed wordlessly, feeling very slightly ashamed. Then she felt much worse, as she saw from the narrowing of Eddie Liu's eyes that he was sharing the amusement.

Suddenly that ran out of his face, leaving total blankness. "Lady Katrina, where did you get that book?" he said.

The tutor looked at him, puzzled. "It was on the list and I brought it from: no, wait, I lie. I forgot that one in Portland and got a copy in Gervais when we were staying over at the castle. Your house steward got it for me. Any problem?"

Liu's face stayed blank, but Juniper had the impression it suddenly required an immense effort of will to keep it that way as he shook his head.

I wonder what that was. about? she thought. But anyway:

"This interview was supposed to be short, Baron Gervais," she pointed out. "If you're finished."

"Yeah. I mean, yes, of course, Lady Juniper."

"You'd do best to leave immediately, then," Juniper went on.

She more than half expected Liu to protest and demand quarters for the night; the day was half gone, and he'd have to camp out at least once in unsettled country. Instead he bowed again and left.

Juniper fixed Katrina Georges with a steady eye: "Let's understand each other, Ms. Georges. I don't trust anyone who works for your employer. You'll be watched. Don't make me do anything Mathilda would regret."

That went over the girl's head, but the tutor caught it: She might regret it if you ended up with half a dozen arrows through you but I wouldn't. That wasn't strictly true: Juniper never liked killing anything, and human beings in particular. Which doesn't mean I won't, if I have to.

"We'll be leaving tomorrow morning early," she said. "Please be ready."

Mathilda gave her an abstracted nod; she'd settled down near the cat's box with her book and was reading bits of it under her voice, giggling as she did so. The tutor's face was unrecognizable.

Outside in the corridor three Clan warriors stood guard. "Shaun, get me-" No, Sam headed back yesterday to make sure Dun Juniper was safe. "Get me Rowan of Dun Carson, if he hasn't left town yet."

The Larsdalen contingent had tactfully headed back for Bearkiller territory. That had seemed advisable at the time, but:

Best to get back home quickly.

Between Sutterdown and Dun Juniper, Willamette Valley, Oregon

August 25th, 2007 AD-Change Year Nine

"What on earth?" Astrid said, then repeated it with Sign.

The little clump of woods was too dark for easy lipread-ing. They'd picked it because it was convenient and had good water, shelter and firewood. Once inside the outer ring of thick brush, the ground under the tall firs and alders and oaks made it plain someone else had been there, and not too long ago.

Horse traders from Sutterdown? Eilir said, glancing around at the ground.

Someone made a torch from fallen branches and set it on fire with their lighter. Astrid looked around, raising it above her head so that it wouldn't dazzle her eyes, but instead cast light to let her see. The hoofmarks were many and deep; so were piles of dung, where the mounts had been tethered to a picket line strung between two young trees. The bark bore the scars of the rope, and there was sap to make a finger sticky when she touched it, the balsamlike scent of Douglas fir.

There's an awful lot of them. And why would they be headed southeast? There's nothing that way but Dun Carson and Dun Juniper, unless you go all the way south to Peoria and then up to Corvallis.

Eilir cast about, going to one knee occasionally, sometimes sniffing at a horse apple. A day old, but some's fresh; oat-fed horses, too-see, there's some grain that spilled from a feed bag. They were here during the last of the horse fair and left only an hour or two ago. They didn't let their horses graze, either.

That was odd; the fields about were Mackenzie land, of course, but unclaimed by any dun, and they were tall with grass. Why waste feed?

Bandits? Eilir asked. Waiting to jump people coming back from the fair?

That was why they'd gone on a scout-about after the fair, rather than riding straight back to Dun Juniper or west to Larsdalen. Astrid did more of her own looking. No. All big horses, well-shod. Men in boots with built-up heels, wearing armor, from the way they sank in.

Another of the Dunedain waved from deeper within the woods, where a small creek ran in a hollow. Campfires, he signed in broad form. Forty, fifty men and more horses.

Definitely not bandits, Eilir signed. Too well ordered.

Yrch! Astrid replied. Servants of the Lidless Eye.

Eilir nodded, her face tight with worry. Then: Look!

A hazelnut bush that fronted the edge of the woods had been turned into a blind; someone had put a blanket down, a ragged tattered one, and not bothered to take it up again. Astrid crawled through, wrinkling her nose at the sweat smell: and whoever it was hadn't bothered to go far when he pissed, either. That gave her a view of the white ribbon of road ahead, over the scrub-grown field. The road to Dun Juniper, which Lady Juniper's party would have taken a few hours ago; unlikely they'd try to push through to home, that would mean traveling long after dark. More probably they'd camp out This was an ambush party, she signed. Eilir gasped, and Astrid went on: Too many men for spies. They probably came in disguised as horse traders and then hid here. And then followed.

Eilir's face firmed. Anamchara, you go for Lord Bear. He's only a few hours away, there and back-he was heading for the southern crossing to Corvallis.

We'll send one of the others.

No! It has to be you. He'll listen. We'll follow the enemy directly.

But you've only got six Rangers here!

There's better than thirty warriors with Mom. We'll do what we can : but get them here, and hurry! They've got something worse than just an attack planned.

The dark was dense when Mathilda Arminger awoke in her tent. The night was just a little too cool to be comfortable on top of the bedding, but her blanket and the warm curled lump of Saladin made it cozy. She stirred and yawned, wiggling for a more comfortable position-Saladin just didn't move when he was comfortable, and that was that. That was one reason she'd been happy enough when Lady Katrina had insisted she have a tent of her own, separate from the one Lady Juniper and Rudi had. Then Rudi had said he intended to sleep by the side of his new horse, and there had been an argument: although Katrina had seemed to get along well with the young guard assigned to her.

"Mmmm?" she said drowsily, realizing that a noise outside the tent had woken her.

Now the flap opened, letting in a slight wash of starlight, bright by comparison to the utter blackness a moment earlier. Katrina was there, but when she came to kneel by the cot Mathilda could see that she wore a mail vest and had her hair tucked under a light helmet. A crossbow was cradled in her hands.

Mathilda shot upright, excitement making her blood race. "What's up, Kat?" she said.

"We're taking you home, Princess," she replied, speaking quietly. "Get up and get dressed. Quickly now. Don't make any noise."

She scurried to obey. A rescue, like the stories!

Another figure knelt at the opening of the tent and whispered. Mathilda recognized Baron Liu's voice, and the edge of his heavy sword glittered slightly. He was in armor, too, a laced-together cuirass of finger-sized lamellar steel plates and mail sleeves and leggings, and a darkened helmet; the harness gave off a muted sound as he moved, a low sibilant rustling.

"Any problem with the guard?" he said softly.

"No," Kat answered. "Everyone knew he was with me, and he was asleep when I made sure of him. The perimeter?"

"They heard the little glass balls tinkle, and then they all went sleepy-byes," Liu said. "This is good stuff."

Abruptly, Mathilda recognized the smell from Katrina's right sleeve: it was blood. Surprise rocked her silent for an instant, and then Kat's hand went over her mouth.

"These are your father's enemies, Princess. Now hold still for a moment."

She pulled out a small leather case and opened it. Starlight gleamed on a set of hypodermics; the woman lifted one and tapped it, letting a bead of clear liquid trickle down the needle. There was a slight sting in the girl's arm, and the plunger went home. The spot itched and burned, and then a rush of faintness overtook her for a moment, as if the fire were spreading throughout her body.

"What is -" she began, then gave a muffled squawk of indignation as Katrina clamped her hand back across her mouth.

"Princess, I have your parents' permission to tie you up and gag you if I have to. Now are you going to come along like a good girl?" Mathilda nodded, and her tutor went on: "That was to keep you safe. I took some myself and the feeling goes away in a few minutes. Now let's get ready to go."

She turned in surprise as Liu crawled into the tent, then hissed: "What are you doing, you idiot?"

Liu was upending the leather case that held her books and papers. "Where is it?" he said. "Where is it?"

"Where's what? We've got the princess; let's go before the kilties catch on!"

"Fuck the kilties; that's why we've got the gas! You think the Protector wants us to scoot and go with a chance like this? And where's the book?"

"The book?'" Katrina's face went fluid with shock.

"Yeah, bitch, the book you took from my castle at Gervais," Liu said tightly. His hand moved, and the heavy sword twitched; it was suddenly under Katrina's chin. "And don't ask why. Just don't. Get it!"

Katrina's hand had left Mathilda's mouth as she made an abortive grab at the hilt of the long dagger at her belt.

Mathilda spoke, in a small, quiet voice with a shiver in it, younger than her years. "I loaned it to Rudi," she said. "I'd told him about it. That's why I said to bring it."

Eddie Liu began to swear, softly and venomously. Mathilda swallowed; she knew what most of the words meant, but she also knew there was something very wrong if Baron Liu was talking that way to her.

"Where is the little shit?"

"Eddie!" she whispered. "You're scaring me!"

"Where is he?"

"And here I thought you were a man of initiative," Juniper said, leaning her chin on one palm. "Tsk, tsk. I go to all the trouble of getting my son his own tent-"

On the other side of the table, Nigel Loring laughed softly. "And I thought, dear lady, that it was simply that he must have one if young Miss Arminger had her own."

"He certainly thought so."

His smile died slightly. "Are you quite sure?" he said.

"Quite. As if a little bird had whispered in my ear." Or Herself.

He moved the lamp to the other side of the camp table and reached out both hands; she took them in hers. "I'm a bit older than you-ten years-"

"Oh, hush, Nigel; I discovered my first gray hair some time ago. We're neither of us teenagers in lust. We're middle-aged, and friends. Let's see where that takes us." An impish smile. "And I do covet that fair body of yours, you know."

"Which I assure you is mutual."

They were leaning towards each other when the first shout sounded outside.

Rudi Mackenzie bolted upright at the soft thud of steel in flesh. He made an instinctive grab for the book that slid off his chest, then reached for the knob on the lantern beside his cot. Then he froze; the starlight was just enough for him to see the glitter of cold steel at the entrance to the tent. A huge gauntlet clamped on his ankle with bruising force and yanked him through the entrance and onto the turf beyond in a single motion; behind him the lantern toppled sideways, and there was a rush of flame as the glass shattered and burning wood alcohol rushed out across canvas and cloth.

"Got him, boss!" a voice like gravel dropping into a steel bucket said, and a huge armored figure loomed over him.

"The book, you fuckhead, the book!"

A smaller figure darted through and scooped up the paperback, stuffing it hastily into a pouch at his belt. He swore in relief and then clamped a hand on the back of Rudi's neck.

"Kat, you got the princess? Sorry I was rough, Princess; business. All right-"

Juniper Mackenzie had her sword in her hand as she dashed out into the dark; that was a measure of what she felt, because running around in the dark with two feet of pointed, edged metal in your hand wasn't something you did casually. Light flared up a second later, as someone threw dry wood on the low-burning campfires; the wagons were strung out in a pasture alongside the road, and the tents behind them, with the picket line for the horses beyond that. She squinted:

Rowan was there, panting, his ax in his hands. "Sentries dead on the north end-not a mark on them."

"Damn the man!" Nigel Loring said. "He was talking about launching it with crossbows. Stonebow type, to throw little thin glass containers of it, like pebbles. There would be enough in the carboy of the real thing for some of those."

Juniper felt her mind whirl. "Mathilda!" she said. "That must be it, why he sent that lady in so-called waiting!"

She whirled; Nigel's hand fell on her shoulder. He'd managed to get most of his armor on, somehow.

"They may still have some of it left," he said. "Don't go running in blind."

More and more of her folk were boiling out of their tents. "Rudi," she snapped; that was in the same direction anyway. "Now!"

A dozen of them formed up on her, and they trotted forward. Her back was to the campfires, but there was light ahead too, a sullen red glow mingled with black smoke that smelled rank and hot; burning canvas. Horses neighed, stark fear in the night, and her heart hammered at her ribs.

Then a great calm descended as she saw that it was Rudi's tent that burned. Katrina Georges was there, armed, with Mathilda against her side. The towering form of Mack, several of the knights she'd seen in Sutterdown, out of their disguises now and back in their hauberks: and Eddie Liu, with her son's neck in his hand, and the other gripping some sort of pistollike contraption: no, more like an old-fashioned water pistol but heavy and bulky. The boy's hands were bound behind his back, and there was a rising bruise on the side of his face.

"Hold!" Juniper cried. "Hold, everyone!"

Liu's smile was white in the dimness, framed by his darkened helmet. "Yeah, Ms. Witch, hold it. 'Cause I brought some Raid on this raid." He flourished the pistollike apparatus. "We've all got the antidote. But funny, we didn't give any to Junior here. So if I start spraying this stuff, chances are he may catch some. And it doesn't take much, you know? I got some friends arriving soon, like in minutes, and then we'll all take a ride. And you can send an ambassador to see how your kid is getting on, hey?"

Juniper cast desperate eyes aside at Nigel Loring. He spoke without moving his lips. "Probably not. There wasn't' much of the real agent left. But he may have it in that."

But Arminger would never let my child go, no matter what I did. And he would torment him from spite.

Rudi's eyes met hers; there was no fear in them, only a clear anger, his lips braced tight. Eddie Liu grinned at her.

"Told you I'd make you pay, bitch," he said softly. "Do you like your choices now?"

Hooves sounded in the night, galloping horses pressed to desperate haste. One of the Protectorate knights stooped to take a burning tent pole from the ruins of Rudi's tent, waving it aloft in signal.

Whatever he expected, it wasn't the shaft that hissed out of the night and struck him full in the chest, sinking through the mail and halfway to the feathers. The others shouted and jumped to surround their leaders and the children, raising their shields in a protective fence; Mack swept out the huge blade of his greatsword and poised, growling. Firelight shone on the edges of the hungry swords; then she saw Eilir sitting her Arab behind the attackers, and more of her Dunedain on either side.

Liu jerked Rudi closer and poised the water gun. "One more arrow and he dies!"

"You won't harm my son," Juniper said, amazed at the calm strength of her own voice. "You know what would happen to you if you did."

"If I go down, I take your kid with me," Liu said. "I figure that'll hurt you worse than killing you would, and bitch, I've wanted to do that for a long time."

Juniper sheathed her sword and raised her hands, and her voice tolled in the flame-shot night: "Eddie Liu, Kat-rina Georges. I curse you, now; in the name of the Dark Goddess, by the power of the Dread Lord. I curse you in their names and mine, and that curse is this: Death not long delayed. So mote it be!"

Rudi's eyes went wide. One of the knights licked his lips and his sword moved as he crossed himself, but Liu bared his teeth again. "Sorry, Witch Queen, that mojo only works on people stupid enough to believe it. Now we're going to back away, real careful, and if any of your folks get in our way: well, I've got me a real good shield, right here."

More hooves moved in the darkness, not close, but moving fast; Liu grinned. Then it died as there was a sudden ringing clash of steel, a brabble of voices, a stamping and thudding and iron clangor.

"Hakkaa paalle!"

Liu looked over his shoulder. "OK, those are big boys, and they can take care of themselves. Let's go!"

Please, Mother-of-All, Juniper thought, drawing a great breath. Hear me, for I'm a mother too. Not him! Anyone, but not him!

Then, in a high clear shout: "Take them!"

Hanging back was the hardest thing she had ever forced herself to do, but she was no more than a middling hand with a sword, and this was far too dangerous for bows. All she could do would be get in the way of those who might save her son. Liu's hand moved, and a stream struck Rudi's neck and the side of his face; he cried out and twisted in the man's hands. Liu shot again, quick as a striking snake, and droplets of the same heavy, oily liquid landed on her face; it had a nasty chemical stink, and the drops itched and burned: and the night did not darken, and her chest continued to pump in hard quick breaths. Then he screamed a curse and used the heavy glass-and-metal pistol to club Rudi down; the boy went to the ground, writhing.

"A Loring! A Loring!" Nigel shouted as he went forward with darting speed.

Not quite in time, for Mack's first stroke was straight down at Rudi's young body. A desperate leap put Nigel's shield above the boy, but the four-foot blade of the greatsword cut three-quarters of the way through the tough laminate of wood and metal, and broke the arm below it. Mack's steel-splinted boot stamped on the blade of the Englishman's sword and snapped it across, and the next blow sent his sallet helm spinning off into the darkness. Nigel Loring slumped backward, blood running from nose and eyes and mouth, motionless.

The Mackenzies were throwing themselves desperately at the ring of swords now, shrieking and sheerly mad, but many hadn't had time to don their brigandines, and the knights were sheathed in mail and splints of hard metal from ankle to head, armored cap-a-pie. Arminger's men stood shield-to-shield and cast back their rush. Rowan led the next, making for the Marchwarden's giant bodyguard, his long ax spinning, crashing at head and hip and leg.

Crack. The greatsword struck the tough ashwood and broke it in half. The head flipped up into its master's face and laid it open to the bone; he staggered, blinded by his own blood, blinking it clear just in time to see the second stroke that took him between neck and shoulder.

"Father!" Alleyne Loring cried.

"No! Mine!" a deep bass voice bellowed, and John Hordle's bastard sword hammered its way past a shield and sent a man reeling, then turned the stroke of Mack's blade with a grunt of effort, a harsh clangor in the night and a stream of sparks. Alleyne tried to use the moment to take the troll-man from behind, but Katrina Georges was suddenly between them, a sword in one hand, a long knife in the other. The circle of shields was breaking up into combats that raged through the flame-shot darkness, two against one, a pair against three.

Eilir was there too, light glittering from eyes gone huge in a face bone-white pale, shining ruddy-bright on teeth bared in a silent gape as she turned the stroke of Liu's bao on her buckler and struck, struck:

Juniper ignored all of it. Instead she saw her moment and darted in, dragging her son free of the melee. His face was a mask of blood, but it was the wound under his short ribs that pulsed red, where the tip of the greatsword had passed after it punched through Nigel's shield. She staunched it with her hands, leaning to put pressure on it.

"Healer!" she shouted. "A healer here! Now!"

Her eyes swiveled, through chaos and death. Glimpses struck her vision and slid from the focus of her mind: Mack sinking to his knees, with Alleyne's sword and a spear through his gut, and Little John Hordle's sword sweeping through a horizontal arc towards his neck; Eddie Liu shrieking as Eilir's short sword punched up under the skirt of his mail and sank home; the lance points of Bear-killer A-listers flickering as they rode into the circle of firelight.

Suddenly Kevin of the Rangers threw himself on his knees beside her. "Let me see: Oh, sweet Goddess, there's too much blood lost-"

He shouted, and the sound carried; battle was dying down, save for someone who shrieked for his mother in a long gurgle that cut off sharply. "I need a donor here! Emergency!"

Shadows fell across them. Juniper looked up, with her son's lifeblood on her hands. Mike Havel stood there, blood on his sword and his face twisted with raging grief; Astrid, supporting Alleyne Loring as he slumped with both hands clapped to a wounded face. And Signe Havel, calm as she stripped the vambrace of her right forearm and pushed the mail sleeve of her hauberk back, lying down beside the wounded boy.

"I'm type O," she said. "Universal donor. As much as he needs, Juney. As much as he needs."

Mathilda Arminger had to call her name several times before Juniper Mackenzie heard the words. The cold light of dawn made the tumbled filth of the battlefield bleaker and more lost; somewhere a raven croaked, and tatters of mist lay along the ground. She could taste something old and dead in her mouth as she leaned back against the wagon wheel, but it was too distant to make her move her hand towards the water bottle someone had put there.

I should sleep. Fear and grief and raw magic have hollowed me, and I should sleep.

"Lady Juniper?"

Juniper looked up; tears made runnels down the girl's face, melting a track through a spray of dried blood.

"Will Rudi be OK? Please, can't you, I don't know, make magic about it?"

"I have, girl. I don't know if he'll be all right. He's lost a very great deal of blood, and they're doing what they can. He may get well."

"I'm so sorry. It's because of me."

I should tell her it isn't but I'm too tired, the Chief of the Mackenzies thought.

"It's because I lent Rudi the book," Mathilda sobbed. "I lent him the book and Baron Liu went to get it. Katrina didn't want him to but he wouldn't leave without the book!"

That pierced the gray chill that swaddled her mind. "Your book, child?"

A shaking hand held a blue-tinted paperback. "I got it out of Baron Liu's belt pouch after he: when I could. It's not my copy. Kat said she got it at Castle Gervais, and the baron got so angry, and he went for it-"

Memory stabbed her. Eddie Liu's face in that room at Sutterdown: Goddess gentle and strong, was it only yesterday?

"Altendorf substitution codes," she whispered, looking northward-to where Arminger brewed his plots.

She rose. Eilir was close, and she looked up sharply, a tentative wisp of smile curling her lips at the sight of her mother moving.

Get me Mike Havel, she signed. Now, girl! Run!

To herself: The Protector wants war. He'll have it, and not only with the Mackenzies: but we'll need more than talk to do it. When his plans are laid bare: but we'll have to do it at the right time and place. A meeting of all the communities, yes, but not at Larsdalen or Dun Juniper or Mt. Angel. It will have to be a blow to the heart-the heart of the Valley. A meeting at Corvallis.

"Goddess of the raven wings," she whispered, gathering herself. "Strong avenger, give me Your strength."