A decisive meeting at in a pleasant glade where Thermin discovers his true nature. The clean-up in Batuk starts poorly. A reunion in Eagles ends with a change of perspective. (Violence, blood, and serum girls)

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The Legal Stuff: The Warrior from Batuk  © 2004, 2007 Aardvark
 
This work is the property of the author, and the author retains full copyright, in relation to printed material, whether on paper or electronically. Any adaptation of the whole or part of the material for broadcast by radio, TV, or for stage plays or film, is the right of the author unless negotiated through legal contract. Permission is granted for it to be copied and read by individuals, and for no other purpose. Any commercial use by anyone other than the author is strictly prohibited, and may only be posted to free sites with the express permission of the author.
 

 
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Chapter 20
 
 
I would be fine? By the Gods, when did I ever feel relief that someone would “save me?” And yet, there was no denying that I felt safer, protected, when Ketrick was around. Tyr had something to say about that. I listened to him, but I couldn't agree. I wasn't depending on others too much. This had come from my woman's heart. I was made to enjoy the strength of a man's arms around me, and whoever I had been, there was no honor being with a weak man. The warrior in me resented being vulnerable, and I hated being afraid, but what were my options? Would I trade my body for one larger and stronger to compete with men? I already knew the answer to that.

Hadrian's Gong reverberated three times. It was time to go. Thermin paid the stable, checked the horses, we mounted up, and rode towards the Lion Gate.

The block around the Lion Gate is always busy. It’s the last place to provision before leaving Batuk and the first place to quench a dry throat, or satisfy the need for a woman. I kept my eyes open for a sign -- something. On the way, there was a chore to perform before the long trip. I leaned over and touched Thermin’s arm.

“Han, I need to go.”

“Of course,” he said indulgently. He pointed to a busy place about fifty yards from the gate, the main public facility for women.

I nodded. We pulled our horses to a post just outside and cinched the reins.

“I’ll be right back,” I said, and moved inside, waiting in line impatiently with other women who had similar needs. Some described precisely how they felt; others discussed family or themselves; and still others, like me, kept silent. I did what my body required, washed, inspected myself in the mirror, and then left.

As I guided the horse towards the gate, I began to worry; I had great faith in Ketrick, but I didn’t like leaving Batuk without having some idea of what was ahead. Fortunately, I didn’t have to worry long.

“Gerras sausages!” bellowed a portly man in a greasy white apron at a covered grill, his voice rising above the others shouting their wares. “Gerras sausages! The best! All the way from Hennet!”

About two hours south, just off the road to Tulem, stood an oak grove by an intermittent stream. It had another name, but some, mainly warriors, knew it by the battle Batuk had fought there over a hundred years before, Hennet’s charge.

We rode past the walls of my birth city. I pulled the veil away from my face, let down my hood, and released my hair to flow behind me free and clear in the wind. I breathed deeply; the northern plains smelled especially good that morning.

Thermin waited several minutes before speaking. “Majesty, you wanted to talk about the population problem in Tulem.”

“We will,” I said, “but let’s wait until we stop.”

“As you wish.”

Hours later I spotted the small hillock that marked the place. The grove was just to the left of the road, almost hidden from sight. “We will speak here, Thermin.” I said, pointing out the side path.

“Yes, Majesty.”

I stopped under a pair of trees close by the stream, flowing noisily after a recent rain. We allowed our horses to drink, and I grabbed an apple from a saddlebag. I spread a pelt on the grass where I sat cross-legged. Thermin kept his feet, leaning back against a tree.

“All right. Something has been bothering you, Thermin. Be honest. You might find me more sympathetic than you think.”

“I believe this invasion to be ill-advised. To my mind, it made little sense to invade a month ago; it makes less sense to do it now.”

“Then we are in accord. The issue,” I began as I bit into the apple, “is changing circumstances. With all the recent Borodin deaths, it could be that it won’t be necessary to invade Batuk at all. This problem may be solved in another, less bloody way.”

“It doesn’t seem reasonable to kill thousands so that twenty-three Borodin lords have an uneasy place to rule.” When he had said “lords,” it was like a curse.

“Agreed. When you took me to the field two nights ago, I watched the children at play. I thought what a war would do to them and their parents,” I said, waving the apple for emphasis. “I resolved to find a better way.”

“Majesty, the conquest has been agreed to; the troops are just waiting for word of our successful return. How would you stop the war? Your position is not so secure that you could cancel it with a wave of your staff.”

It bothered me that I couldn’t read his eyes in the shade. When he wanted to, his face could rival stone.

“Thermin, you said you ‘did your duty.’ What did you mean by that? Where do your loyalties lie?”

“I swore my oath to you, Majesty,” he said solemnly.

“Yes, you did. The only way to stop the war is to make it impossible to wage. That means bringing down the spy network in Batuk.”

His leaned forward into the light. “Majesty?”

I waved him back. “I don’t mean kill them. Just remove them from Batuk. We’ll say that Batuk discovered the network, and that it’s too dangerous to use.”

“You want me to lie, Majesty?”

“Oh, please. Kings, queens, and spymasters do it all the time. I believe I have a way to reduce the number of lords and ladies in Tulem. It would take time -- years, in fact, but the circumstances that are driving this ridiculous war will eventually be removed, and relative peace and harmony between the Borodins and Giovannis will return. I’d need your help.”

“What exactly do you want me to do?” he asked, his face returning to a mask.

“I believe that a letter, ostensibly from Batuk’s council, with a list of all the names of the network in Batuk should be sufficient. That would ‘prove’ that Batuk knows about our plans and are ready for us. It would give us cover to remove the network from Batuk. The war would have to stop.”

He nodded, rubbing his chin. “Done properly, that would almost certainly work. Majesty, could you answer a few questions for me?”

I nodded. “Go ahead.”

“Why did you send a man out of the city last week?”

I wondered if he knew. I should have known better. “A detail. You were worried about Malchor going to Batuk. The man I sent is a warrior named Nestor. I sent him to find Malchor to ensure that he made it to his father’s city where he said he was going.”

He grunted. “It would have been better if you informed me first, but a good answer. Indulge me a little longer, if you don’t mind. The last days before you killed King Bruno were hectic: Giovanni lords were dying, a few Borodins, too. The theory is that the King hired assassins to kill Giovannis and later, the Borodins, to start a civil war. But, you see, the night you attacked the palace, he was unprepared: he had literally no idea it was coming.”

“Bruno was careless and he underestimated us.”

“I would have known if the King had been killing lords. A plan like that could not have been kept secret from me. Further, King Bruno was a cautious man. If he’d attacked the Borodins so viciously then he would have taken steps to protect himself. He didn’t. Normally, I wouldn’t care. It’s the business of the aristocracy to plot and kill each other any way they please. We mundanes serve whomever is left standing. If a lord becomes a serum girl and kills the King, then I would serve her as I served the King before her.

“But you are so different than Lord Drago that lately I began to think the unthinkable. Lord Drago would never have permitted me to tell him what to do in Batuk. You weren’t as offended as would be expected when I disrespected the nobility. I wondered at your way to stay free and how long you had managed it. What if, hypothetically, the serum girl who learned to stay free was not Lady Dana, but Tyra l’Fay, Lady Dana’s supposed slave? What if she somehow eliminated Lady Dana and took her place?”

“It would be easy to prove one way or the other wouldn’t it?” I said, taking another bite from my apple.

“A few simple questions about Lord Drago’s past would suffice. If you are Tyra l’Fay, then you would have had a good reason to browbeat me to learn about the spies; it would answer the question of why you insisted on going with me to Batuk, and, most especially, why you want my help now to stop the attack.”

I relaxed in my cross-legged position, careful to keep my hands away from the knife in my calf sheath. “And what if I said that you were right? Would you still help me?”

“Are you Tyra l’Fay?” he demanded.

I sat up straight and spoke proudly: “I am Tyra l’Fay; formerly Tyr t’Pol, raid leader of Eagles. Thermin, you despise the nobility, and I want to make sure they keep their aristocratic hands off my city. We can work together. After this is over I can guarantee you a comfortable new life in a place where you would never have to take orders from a noble again.”

He shook his head. “I’m afraid not. As tempting as it might be, I swore an oath to Tulem and to my sovereign. You are not she. I congratulate you for getting this far, but it’s over.” He took a step forward.

I held up my hand quickly. “Wait! Before you arrest me, kill me, or whatever you plan to do, answer me a question or two.”

He shrugged. “Why not?”

“When did you first suspect that I was Tyra?”

“Last night. Frankly, you were far too nice to me. This morning you served me tea and were actually concerned for me, a mundane. I might have believed that you were just embracing your newfound femininity, but you have always been cold-blooded when you want to be. I allowed that this could all be a ruse. So I tested you, letting on that I was worried about the war. A noble knows that he is born to rule. It’s in his blood. A war to gain his birthright would not have bothered him.”

“My mistake. Where was Decker this morning?”

He grinned amusedly. “Second woman in line behind you at the public latrine. I ordered him to watch you this morning in case you tried something -- like passing a note.”

Gods. It had been too close. Even scraping a line towards the Lion Gate had been risky. Feeling very much an amateur, I asked, “Then you and he are the only ones who suspected me?”

“I only. It would have been embarrassing if I had been wrong, so I gave Decker no explanation.” He took another step forward and drew his sword smoothly. “Stand up, Tyra! When you return to Tulem, you will be securely bound on the back of a horse.”

I looked past him. “Heard enough, Ketrick?”

Ketrick stepped around the tree, his sword in his hand, and stabbed through Thermin’s sword arm as he turned, disarming him with a cry of pain. He then placed the dripping point at the base of the shocked spymaster’s chin while bringing his face inches from the hapless man.

“I think so,” he replied in a voice that chilled. “I hope this one doesn’t have a poison tooth. I’m tired of everyone dying on me.”

I picked up Thermin’s blade off the ground with my left hand, all the time watching him warily with the knife in my right. He winced when I tied his hands behind him in a slaver’s knot. Ketrick’s thrust had opened deep gashes, but it appeared he had missed the important vessels. Whatever happened, he wouldn’t bleed to death. Then I tied his ankles together, leaving him standing.

“He doesn’t have the tooth,” I said. “I’ve noticed that the spies that have them tend to chew on one side of the mouth.”

“That’s always been the problem with them. It’s a dead giveaway.” He grinned like the gatekeeper to Hades and pressed the sword under Thermin's chin, forcing him to his toes. “Tell me, Thermin, why should we keep you alive?” He lowered the blade an inch, allowing him to strain for speech. “Speak,” Ketrick said.

“Go to Hades!” Thermin croaked, staring down defiantly.

“Can’t we just give him Ruk’s Serum and sell him to the Slaver’s Guild?” I asked.

Thermin’s face grew whiter than I would have believed possible.

Ketrick chuckled. “Tyra, you are the soft one. We can’t keep making serum girls. It depresses the market. No, this one dies unless he gives us a very good reason to stay alive.”

“I suppose you’re right,” I sighed. I beamed. “I know! We could force him to tell us everything he knows about the spy network, all the names in all the cells, where they can be found, assignments, things like that.”

Ketrick nodded, considering the problem slowly while Thermin struggled to keep his chin above the blade. “I think that’s what we’ll do, but we would have to kill him afterwards: we could never trust him. A pity. I dislike torture; it offends my sensibilities, and information taken while the subject is in terrible, mind-twisting pain is often unreliable.”

“Surely we can offer Thermin a better end than stripping his flesh or trimming his limbs away a bit at a time?”

“Another factor to consider, Tyra: we don’t absolutely need the information. You know the cell leaders already. Removing them would disable the network. The cell members would take longer to find, but the Batuk constabulary is capable of checking the few thousand or so recent arrivals for poison teeth. Even if Thermin told us what we want, it might not make any difference in the end.”

Thermin’s calves tired after the constant strain of standing on his toes, and he teetered forward. When he recovered, blood dripped from a new wound under his chin, forming a thick red rivulet that flowed slowly down the corded muscles of his neck and into his tunic.

I winced at the sight. One cramp and Thermin’s life would be forfeit.

“Please, Ketrick, can’t we give him Ruk’s Serum?”

“Well … all right, but only if he reveals all. I suppose that it would save us some trouble tracking the spies down -- but really, how many serum girls does one world need?”

“I’ll try not to make it a habit,” I said. “This is no joke, Thermin. You will die badly unless you tell us everything we want to know. Your choice is either Ruk’s Serum or a painful death -- and we’re wasting time.”

I placed my hand on Ketrick’s sword arm, bringing it lower to give our prisoner a final moment to reconsider.

If Thermin searched my face for mercy, then he was disappointed. “Would you teach me the way to stay free like you?” he asked .

“No.”

He slumped in his bonds and hung his head. Ketrick removed his sword and Thermin slid to the ground on his knees.

“I’ll tell you all that I know. I accept Ruk’s Serum.”

***

Thermin cooperated, even answering questions about his own private operations in Tulem. Oddly, although Ketrick had the blade, Thermin kept looking at me, his expression conflicted between hate and fascination. At first, I dismissed it; after all, when he looked at me, perhaps, instead of a woman, he saw his future, but there was something else in his demeanor. I waited until Ketrick had gone to bring back a vial of Ruk’s Serum before addressing him.

“Thermin!” Still tied upright to a tree, he jerked at the sound of my voice. “Is there something you wanted to tell me?”

“I would ask a favor,” he said, licking his lips.

I folded my arms under my breasts. “Ask, and I will decide. I promise you nothing.”

“Tyra,” he said softly, blushing furiously, “If I am to be a serum girl, I would like to be a blonde -- like you.”

I raised an eyebrow at that, but his request wasn’t impossible. “I’ll talk to Ketrick and see what he has.”

Checking Thermin’s bonds before I left, I found Ketrick by his horse with a case of polished metal. He looked up at my approach.

“Something wrong?”

“Something strange. Thermin requests to be a blonde, like me, he says.”

“Really?” He grinned. “Thermin is fortunate. Blondes have been popular lately. I have only one left in the vials.”

“You don’t think it's an odd request?”

He shrugged. “Let’s hope that after Thermin feels the hot iron at her thigh, she enjoys slavery as much as she thinks.”

“Thermin wants to be a slave? That can’t be true.”

“Most men would be in shock or bidding their suren goodbye. Thermin imagines himself as a blonde slave. It could be that he’s making the best of a bad situation -- some say that blondes are more easily pleased — or it might be that he has a deep desire to be a woman. A few men are like that, you know. And other men have been known to confuse their desire for the object of their affections with the desire to be the object of their affections.” He leered at me. “It’s even possible that, as his captor, he wants to be you.”

I made a rude sound.

His smile disappeared as he searched my face. “You’re still angry at your transformation. Do you still wish to be Tyr?”

“I’ve learned to more or less accept who I am, but that’s different than being happy about it. I despise my brother. Giving me Ruk’s Serum was no favor; it was meant to destroy me.”

He nodded thoughtfully, but finished with a grin that threatened a fast turn in the pelts. “Regardless, I much prefer you as you are.”

I planted my hands at my hips and snorted. “So you’ve said before, but you think with your twyll. After all, you’re just a man!”

“And you, Tyra, are not!” With those words, the old gleam in his eye returned, and I sprinted for safety. He captured me before I could escape the clearing, swinging me around by the waist as I laughed. An instant later his lips were on mine.

I had to admit, it pleased me then to be a serum girl, and there were worse places to be than in his arms. When he allowed me room for air, I said, “You make me happy to be Tyra, very happy.”

I felt like purring when he stroked my hair; he always brushed it in the same direction.

“You know we have a lot of work left to do in Batuk,” he said.

Looking up, his eyes were warm, perhaps a little concerned. “I know. I’m tired of killing. I had hoped that Thermin would voluntarily disable the network.” I sighed. “I admit it; the rhadus tricked me.”

“Don’t blame yourself. Thermin is a smart fellow; he would have figured it out sooner or later. You took a chance to save lives that might have worked. It’s unfortunate that it didn’t, but in the end, Thermin will be a slave in a distant city, and you will still be Queen. If it’s any consolation, Thermin is probably the last man who knows all the facts necessary to put the picture together.”

“After we kill every spy in Batuk.”

“Yes.” His smile was like a wolf on the trail of a wounded deer.

“You aren’t worried?”

“Not much. The cells are completely separate. Taking them down one by one will be easy, especially with your help. I’m more worried about the authorities; there will be bodies everywhere.”

“Mm. Yes. The constabulary is probably already in an uproar. You did kill two of our administrators.”

He shook his head. “Both are drugged in an apartment I rented.”

“Why? You weren’t sure who was the traitor?”

“Partly, but mainly because I wanted to show the other man proof of the plot to destroy Batuk. To make sure that this doesn’t happen again, someone high in the government must be convinced and frightened into taking precautions. And the good administrator has another use. You had the right idea. Writing a diplomatic letter to Tulem, informing them that all their spies were dead and listing them all by name, would be a powerful argument to stop the war. But to do a proper job, we’d need a real administrator to write it, with seals, stamps and the officious language that goes with it.”

“Why didn’t I think of that?”

“Three hundred years of experience. Come, let’s give Thermin what we promised him.”

Thermin tensed when he saw us both, especially at the syringe in Ketrick’s hand. Even when a man knows what is coming, often he disbelieves until it happens. From his expression, Thermin was beginning to believe, but there was something else, a weird sort of exultation. It made me curious, and I looked lower. Thermin bulged. It seemed that more than fear and disbelief worked behind those pretty blue eyes.

I wondered then at certain things: Thermin’s cruelty for women mixed with near-worship, and demands that I order him to my bed.

“Thermin, do you want to know what you’ll look like?”

A pause then, softly, “Yes, Tyra.”

I placed myself so he could see me easily, and said, “Your body will be lush and curvaceous. Your breasts will be larger than mine.” I placed my hands under each of my own and sighed happily, allowing my fingers to explore their delectable outlines. “Your hips will be a little wider.” I touched my sides, running my hands over sweet contours that would shortly approximate his while moving my hips in a lazy sinuousness that no man could properly imitate. I stepped closer. It wasn’t my imagination; his twyll was bigger.

Intrigued, I continued. “Your manhood will soon be exchanged for a saer, one wet and hungry for men, as befits a serum girl. Your hard manly strength will disappear, to be replaced by smooth, slim, womanly limbs.”

He looked away, ashamed, but there was no denying what his body was telling him, shouting, apparently, from his still firming tumescence. I smiled; it was all so clear now. I moved closer, pleased at my effect on this helpless man.

“You will never wear men’s clothing again. Your new garments will be pretty slave tunics. You will wear your long blonde hair free and down, and use attractive scents. You will be dominated, Thermin, just like any other serum girl. You will be pleased to serve and submit to men.” I stepped close enough to feel his heat against my breasts.

“Stop! Don’t say any more! Please!” he begged me. He straightened, staring over my head, even sucking in his stomach to keep from touching me. I looked down again to witness even greater expansion, and grinned.

“Thermin!” I shouted, forcing him to look at me. “You will scream as the hot iron brands your thigh, and cry plump tears from your pretty eyelashes, just like all the other slave girls before you. When your owner collects you, you will bow your head and call him Master, feeling his strength and your utter helplessness.

“You will be permitted no freedom, for I will make sure that you are trained immediately. The first week you will observe yourself naked in a mirror, doing nothing except looking on in rapt amazement at your beautiful breasts, feminine hands and feet, a pretty woman’s face, and, of course, the tender gap between your legs. You will explore your body under the trainers’ guidance, and will experience the very different way your body moves and reacts to touch. At the end of the week you’ll know yourself to be a girl, with new and wondrous needs far different than a man!

“The second week you will tell yourself over and over in your woman’s voice, ‘I am a slave girl,’ until there is no doubt left in your pretty head. You shall feel the sting of the slave-whip, learn discipline, and be educated on the futility of resistance. The natural slave in you shall find contentment and elation knowing that you will be owned forever.”

He breathed harder and his eyes swung around to mine, as a cornered mouse might fix on a hungry cat. I looked back, confident and aroused. It was an odd feeling to be dominant again. For a moment, I wished to strip him, lower myself upon his supine body, and make him moan like a girl.

“You will understand what it means to be a natural slave and a pure woman, for you will be given no choice; you will be permitted to be only a slave. You will spread your legs, buck and scream for joy beneath a man as he penetrates you like any female, and you will squirm helplessly as he uses you just as he desires. You will be pleased to obey him, proud of his strength and power over you.”

He panted harder, chest heaving; his eyes were wild, frantic -- and utterly unable to tear his focus away from me.

“You will remember what you were,“ I whispered softly, leaning an inch from his lips, “a man who used to dominate, but you shall neither dominate again, nor desire it. You will love your soft, smooth, sensitive, man-pleasing body; learn teur, dyff, and the myriad other ways to gratify your master’s demands. You will anticipate his desires, and long for his hard twyll inside you. This I promise you, Thermin: Eventually, you will lovingly trace the vaec burned into your thigh, and you will worship the day you became a beautiful, submissive, slave girl.” I moved forward a fraction of an inch and touched him very gently with my hand where his maleness now strained so desperately.

“Uhn!” His eyes rolled back and he thrust himself forward, struggling against the ropes to move against me.

He pulsed his last seed away under the warmth of my palm, and his twyll diminished rapidly: his time as a man was over. I backed away, leaving him weeping, for there was no longer any doubt of his true nature.

I motioned to Ketrick, who had been grinning the entire time, to finish what Thermin so dearly wanted. In the end, Thermin only sighed when the serum entered his arm.

On impulse, I took his face in my hands and kissed him hard and demanding, like a master. His lips surrendered to me with only token resistance. Patting him gently on the cheek, I whispered softly in his ear, low so that only he and I could hear, “Don’t be afraid. You’ll be happy as a slave. In a way I envy you.”

I allowed him a good look at me. I would not have him pass on, thinking I was making sport.

“Tyra…” he began. His face fought through a range of emotions: fear, confusion, shame, and, as the nausea and drowsiness sapped his strength, resigned acceptance. In the end, before the drugs took him, his eyes found mine for the last time, and within his inner turmoil, I saw peace.

“Sleep,” I said. “When you awaken, your life will begin again.”

He nodded and closed his eyes. Gradually, his breathing slowed. After he fell into unconsciousness, I wished him greater joy as a slave than he had ever had as a man.

We passed Thermin to a slaver leaving Batuk going east, on his way home to far Olwen, a coastal city. At first he didn’t want to take the unconscious man, already softening in loose bonds, claiming the market price for untrained serum girls was very low, even casting suspicion on us as illegal profiteers outside the Slaver’s Guild, but when I offered him money to take him, he became solicitous enough.

Thermin would be a fully trained slave girl when she arrived in Olwen, eager and ready to please men. With luck, she would someday find a firm master. As we passed through the Lion Gate in the late afternoon, I prayed silently to a small statue of Ashtar in the circle, wishing Thermin a happy life, and promised the Goddess that I would give her an offering when I had the time.

***

I waited outside Mil t’Fin’s Expert Tailor Shop on the opposite side of the street in a store that specialized in items for the kitchen, mixing and bumping noisily with the constant moving flow of mainly women, checking and arguing over pots, cleaning utensils and small jars suitable for storing preserves; all the while checking the area for members of Mil’s cell. I was most worried about Decker. The man with no discernible soul knew me and would have questions if he saw me again. He had also fooled me the last time with his disguise -- as a woman, no less -- something that should not have rankled, but did.

There was no reason for him to be there. Decker had a vocation as leather worker about two blocks south, but something ate at me. At first I dismissed it as nervousness.

Ketrick entered Mil’s Tailor shop, waiting until just before closing. About two minutes later he returned, adjusting his collar. Very calmly, he removed Mil’s keys and locked the door. He tugged on his sleeve twice. Mil and his assistant Flem were dead. I relaxed a little. Two down, twenty-eight to go.

The next two were as easy.

Ketrick trapped a pretty woman in the back of her flower shop and spoke to her calmly of a device that held a prisoner immobile while her hands and feet burned to cinders, leaving the rest of the body intact and capable of speech. She settled to the ground smiling, sure that she had died a heroine. We left her where she fell.

Ketrick stunned a powerfully built carpenter as he entered his small house in the early evening while I watched the outside. I didn’t see much; just a solid blow to the back of the head with cloth-wrapped club. The door closed. A minute later Ketrick appeared as a dark silhouette in the opening, then closed the door and walked away.

“What do you know of Decker?” Ketrick asked me as we walked south towards the spy’s apartment.

“He scares the piss out of me.” I told Ketrick of my meetings with him and his dead eyes.

“Spies are usually not nice people. Are you sure you aren’t making more of this than you should?”

I stopped and grabbed his arm. “Ketrick listen to me. He has the same cold gray eyes of my torturer, only worse; he looks like that in the middle of the day. Breaking my knees or beating me with a rod wouldn’t be a job to him. Decker would look forward to it. What horrors bring joy to those empty orbs? Gods!” I shivered.

He grasped my shoulders in his hands. “You had bad dreams about the torturer. It’s not surprising that a man with the same gray eyes might bring them back.”

“How can I make you understand? When Decker looked at me, I saw his need to take me, but instead of healthy, clean domination, I imagined him over me with a knife or a brazier. There is something very wrong with him.”

“Those are the fears of a woman. I’m not worried about how he takes me in the silks. I merely want him to die.”

I twisted away angrily, but I had to admit that he had a point.

“All right. I think that he’s a brutal man capable of any cruelty. I believe he enjoys killing. He’s intelligent and very tricky. I’ve known men like him before; they might stay in the shadows for a long time, only revealing their true selves when events favor them. Even Thermin knew he was a cold bastard. And I don’t think he would kill himself under any circumstances.”

He nodded. “So, you think he’s dangerous.”

“Very.”

“He should be getting back home soon. It’s possible that he might have a meeting with Mil t’Fin. It might also be that a cell member is assigned to check on each other once a day, to ensure that everything is alright.”

“How sure are you of that?”

“It’s what I would do. It’s a one in four chance that it could be him. Hmm, more if Mil trusted him, which he did. I like this less, but we need to split up. I’ll go to his apartment and wait for him. If he doesn’t go home, then he might go to Mil’s tailor shop to report in or to make a check. You must go there.”

“And kill him if he shows up?” My heart began pounding.

“Yes. It’s less likely that he’ll go to the shop, but it’s possible. Here,” he said, un-strapping a knife from his shoulder belt, “take this in case you miss with your first throw.”

I took it and stuffed in a pocket of my dress. The cloak would conceal it well enough. I didn’t like it, but the odds were far in my favor if I had surprise -- and I rarely missed with a knife. “Very well. I’ll wait across the street and move in if I see him. I might have to follow him for a while to get a clear shot, though. There are still a lot of people on the streets.”

“Do as you see fit, but be careful.”

“I’ll see you then when he dies, Ketrick, hopefully soon.” I left him with a kiss and walked north a block, moving into position in a dark alcove of a closed clothing store. I waited, watching the tailor shop and all who passed in front, examining anyone who matched Decker’s height and mass be they male or female. While I waited, I wondered if I wasn't overreacting. Decker had scared me, but would I have feared him as a man? But I wasn't a man.

“Good evening, Lina. Did you miss me?” came a soft voice from behind.

I whirled, frightened almost out of my wits. “Decker!” I caught myself. “You scared me.”

“What are you doing here?” he asked me curiously.

“Thermin sent me back. He’s still worried about a plot to kill us.”

“Interesting. And why are you watching Mil’s shop from the shadows?”

“I … I’m being cautious.” I cursed myself. How in Hades did Decker get behind me? “Decker, I think something might be wrong. Shouldn’t there be a light inside?” I bit my lip; I sounded like an idiot.

“Yes, there should. Mil and Flem could be out. But why don’t we find out?” He withdrew a pouch from within his tunic and produced a set of keys. Separating one from the set, he placed it firmly in my hand. He smiled. “Here. Open the door. I’ll be right behind you.”

Goddess, I didn’t want to go with him! A lamp across the street cast enough light to see him full on, albeit dimly. His dead eyes had finally acquired life, but not the open glow of honesty, rather the burn of disease, that last sickly fire in a man’s gaze before death claims him.

I would have killed him then if I’d had a knife in my hand. I still considered the attempt, but his stance was too relaxed and, most worrying, his left hand had slipped comfortably to his hip where a knife might easily be hidden. My instincts told me to flee, but he was certainly faster than me in my dress. Even if he let me go, all he had to do was return to Tulem and report, and then all we had done would go for naught. And so I nodded.

“Good idea,” I said. Resolving to kill him at my earliest convenience, I stepped into the street and walked, aware of Decker at my back like a hovering fester. I reached the door, fumbling with the key at first.

“What’s taking you so long?” he asked.

“I have it now.” I found the keyhole and turned the key. I reached for the knife in my dress as I pushed through the door, hoping the motion would conceal my intent.

I had just touched the handle when a cord snapped tight around my throat, and in an instant I went from spy hunter to a woman in the fight for her life.

He was far too strong! His knee in my back kept me at a distance where I could do nothing but thrash. My hands went to my throat uselessly, but panic wouldn’t let me stop trying to pry away the cord buried deep in my neck. I would have given anything for a breath! He held me helpless for endless seconds and I began to fade, my arms and legs growing weary as my lungs heaved, aching for sweet air. In a far corner of my mind, I knew I was dying. My last clear thought was hate. He would remember me. Abandoning my throat, I snatched Ketrick’s knife and thrust backwards with my remaining strength, connecting with something. The knife was gone an instant later and he finished strangling me. My arms went limp; my legs lost their strength. My eyes saw spots as my brain began to die -- then blackness.

Pain!

I screamed, or tried to -- there was a gag in my mouth. I struggled to breathe, gasping through my nose. My head felt like it had been hammered, but that was nothing. I rolled my head up and struggled to lift it an inch or two. I was naked and spread on a table, my wrists tied together and attached to a rope behind my head. My legs were separated, tied at the lower corners. The source of my agony was visible: Ketrick’s knife was buried nearly to the hilt in my left thigh, just above my knee. From the look and feel of it, it had been driven clear through and had me pinned to the table. I lay back again and forced a warrior’s mantra through the pain and pounding in my skull. There was just one good thing about this: I was still alive.

Decker’s dim face blocked the lamp to my left. “Enjoy your brief life, Lina, or whoever you are. This is just the beginning.”

I was pretty sure I was dead, but he was making a mistake by staying in Batuk. The smart move would have been to kill me and report. I looked around the room, but I didn’t recognize it. He saved me from further thought by striking my thigh with the bottom of his hand by the knife. The pain was staggering, almost as bad as my knee breaking. My eyes blurred through hot tears and my leg spasmed against the knife, causing fresh blood to ooze down the side. It was all I could to breathe for a moment. Then he struck me again in the same place. It was too much. I screamed into the cloth and sobbed. It didn’t stop there. He struck my face several times, and elbowed me in the stomach. While this was going on, he sometimes pinched my nose, making me heave and twist in panic when I couldn’t breathe.

After a few minutes, when he tired of his fun, he let me recover, as much as I could recover with a knife through my leg, that is.

Even through my pain and terror, I glared at him. If he wished to kill me or torture me to gain information, I could understand it. But giving pain for no purpose other than one’s pleasure was sick.

“I’m going to undo your gag, Lina. If you scream, you’ll wish you hadn’t.”

I nodded slowly. When he freed my mouth, I took a few deep breaths.

“My family would pay to get me back, Decker. I wouldn’t abuse me too much if I were you.”

He smiled, and his eyes glowed with an awful light. “What’s your name?” he asked me, much as a man might a siolat girl who had pleased him.

“Toni l’Dani.”

“You are a Batuk spy?”

“Yes. It would be best if you ransomed me. The other cells are surely destroyed by now.”

He laughed. “Later, perhaps.” He looked me over, examining me as if I were a piece of meat. “Where to start?” he mused. He selected a small knife from somewhere out of my sight and nodded. “You may scream now. There is no one around to hear you.” He applied the knife to my stomach and started to write.

I screamed.

An eon later I lay back, exhausted and hoarse while Decker took a break to relieve himself. I knew I was going to die. It was only a matter of time when he wearied of me. I had no weapons save my razor above my ear, the same one I’d used to free myself with Malchor. But with the ropes taut, I had no chance to get to it. Even if I freed myself, what could I do? A moment later, he returned chewing a carrot — on the right side of his mouth.

I laughed wildly.

He approached me.

“Why do you laugh?” he asked curiously.

“Because I’ve figured you out. I know why you torture women; your kind is incapable of taking us like men. You’re pathetic. Kill me, eunuch; you can do no more.” I turned to the side, facing away from him.

He took my face in his hands and wrenched it towards him. “You will pay for that,” he said, his face suffused with rage.

I shrugged. “You’re going to kill me anyway, eunuch. What does it matter?”

He went back to his carving, but his strokes were angry and deep. Through my screams, though, I dared to think of revenge.

Some undetermined time later I lay back again, soaked and slick from sweat and blood.

“I have carved my name, my real name, on your stomach.” He sounded pleased.

I looked up through my good eye. “The name of a eunuch,” I croaked, and laughed.

He removed his clothes and revealed his twyll. It was impressive for a smaller man.

“So, you do have something after all,” I noted.

He pulled out the knife from my thigh, wiggling it back and forth to free it from the table, making me scream again. With it, he began cutting the bonds at my feet. “Enjoy it while you can,” he said coolly. “I won’t kill you. After I’m finished, you will lose your tongue, your eyes and your ears. I’ll make a small cut on your spine just above your pretty bottom. You will live your life as a helpless cripple even the Overlords couldn’t heal.”

I decided it was time. I pushed my legs against the table, pushing me back, biting my tongue at the abuse my poor thigh was taking. I also pulled on the rope holding my hands, hoping it looked like I was trying to get away. “No! No!” I cried, rolling my body to the right. With the slack on the rope, I managed to get my hands close enough to my ear. I pinched the small blade with my fingers, barely feeling it as it came free.

He laughed. “You seem to have a little energy left. Good. If you please me, I might leave you an ear.” He loosened the rope to my hands behind the table and retied it to give him enough slack to drag my body down the table, where he could take me standing up. It suited me fine.

He paid me no mind after that, simply separating my legs and entering me like a pig. I didn’t care. While his suren slapped against my ass, I sawed at my bonds like one mad, cutting my hand repeatedly in the rush to free myself before he finished.

When the snake finally grunted, pumping me full of his defective seed, I was ready. As his head leaned forward in contentment and his mouth widened for a deep breath of post-brol satisfaction, I moved, slicing his throat in one motion.

He scuttled backwards, holding the red line across his neck, but my heart sank. The tiny blade hadn’t cut deep enough. The wound looked bad, but it hadn’t severed the vein I’d aimed for. I rolled off the table, barely keeping from falling. I hopped towards Ketrick’s knife, on a table by the wall, but Decker tackled me just as my hand touched the handle, and we collapsed to the floor together. I rose to my knees with Decker on my back like two dogs mating, but he slapped my wretchedly abused thigh and I collapsed with a cry, and then he managed to wrestle me to my back.

He grinned above me; that terrible glow was back. “Lina,” he breathed, rolling his head back and closing his eyes in perverse rapture, “or whoever you are, I think I…”

I never did find out what he thought because I thrust my hand into his mouth. He gagged as my fingers found the back of his throat, and I shoved harder. He bit hard at the intrusion and grabbed my wrist, straining to pull it away, but I had a good hold on his teeth and had grown accustomed to worse pain in the past few hours.

There is a catch that must be flicked up before a poison tooth can be used. I fought his tongue for the right to it as hard as I have ever fought any man. Despite being only a dozen pounds heavier than me, his male strength was appalling. He struck me in the face, nearly breaking my nose, but my fingers found a way around the slimy serpent in his mouth, and the catch came up with a nudge from a long fingernail. His eyes went very wide when he felt it rise. I pulled him close and stared as he struggled frantically just a few inches away.

“Die! Die! Die!” I screamed into his face, willing it with everything I had.

His free hand went around my throat and he kicked my thigh again. It was agony, but he’d waited too long. I smiled, and reached just a little farther. As Tyr, my fingers would have been too large to manage it, but my pinky was just right. I pressed as hard as I could on the nub, breaking the seal and flooding his mouth with death.

“Uhn!” His hand released my throat and pushed. I let him go, laughing hysterically. He staggered back, arms flailing comically, and fell against the wall, slipping slowly to a sitting position on the floor. I lurched to my feet, found Ketrick’s knife and limped to Decker’s side, intending to slice the rest of his neck, but his foul soul had already fled; his eyes, although open, were empty again. I pushed him over and spat in his face, wishing him a hot time in Hades and rebirth as a maggot.

I looked around dizzily. I was in a basement somewhere. The stairs were to the right. I hadn’t noticed it, but I had been bleeding badly since Decker had removed the knife. By the time I’d crawled halfway up the stairs, I felt lightheaded. More than that, I felt wrong. My legs weren’t working well and my arms responded like lead. I figured that some of the poison might have slipped into me through the cuts on my hand, but it wasn’t something I could worry about then. I made it all the way to the top through willpower and raised the heavy latch of the door. I crawled through the opening and through a dark room towards sounds, bumping into furniture, once making something made of glass fall over and shatter. I made it to another door, pushed the latch up with a final grunt and fell over. After a moment lying on cold stone, I heard people sounds.

A man: “Gods!” Strong arms turned me over. It was dark, and I supposed that it was either night, or that I was close to death.

A woman: “Jep! Look at her. She’s badly hurt -- and she’s not wearing clothes!”

The man: “Yes, I noticed that too. Who are you? Where do you live?”

My mind wasn’t working very well. An angry bee buzzed noisily in my head, and I had to strain to think. “My name is Tyra l’Fay. My father is Pol t’Pak.”

“Eagles?”

I nodded my head. “Please take me there.” It was cold on the ground, but I felt warm; I was going home.

***

I opened my eyes slowly to sunlight in a familiar room, one of the smaller ones at the estate that overlooked the garden. The light was painful and I still had a headache, but it was bearable. My head and back were propped up in a small bed and I wore a white cotton nightgown with thick bandages underneath. I didn’t even try to move for a moment, just breathe. My entire body felt like a wound.

Lying there in peace was too much of an invitation to recount the night’s terrors. I didn’t want to think about how close I’d come to dying or becoming a blind, deaf cripple. Decker hadn’t even been that much larger than I, yet he had snared me neatly, like a wild turkey in a loop. The deeper meaning of it brought me perilously close to weeping, like a girl who must cast aside an illusion she had held dear, but that would have to wait.

“Hello!” I called through the open door.

A woman in gray-green physician’s garb entered, carrying a mug of some steaming beverage. She smiled as she came close, her short black hair framing an attractive oval face.

“How are you this afternoon?”

I smiled back. “Tired and sleepy, physician, but much better than I was when I came here. I must speak with Pol t’Pak as soon as possible.”

“He left instructions to speak with you as soon you awoke. I'll tell him as soon as I leave. You’re fortunate to be alive, you know. Your injuries are severe, but the poison on your hand almost killed you.” She tipped the cup at me. “And you can expect to hear from the authorities tomorrow about the dead man in the basement.”

“I’ll be glad to clear up the matter. I barely got away.”

“Was he the one who did this to you last night?”

I took a deep breath, thinking of his eyes for the briefest moment. “Yes. His name is — was — carved on my stomach.”

She looked down and away, and exhaled softly. “I see. What about…”

“Please, Physician,” I said gently, “I must speak with Pol t’Pak immediately. It’s important.”

She laid her hand over my bandaged right hand, touching it very lightly. “Very well. We’ll speak later.” She left, smiling reassuringly as she closed the door.

I closed my eyes and waited. I'd left Eagles under a cloud of controversy and had a lot of explaining to do. I marshaled my arguments, readied my facts, even brushed my hair back the best I could, but when the solid man in Eagle’s colors opened the door and his familiar eyes under fierce black brows met mine, I managed only one word: “Father,” before my throat locked and tears streamed down my cheeks.

He took my shoulders and looked at me. “Is it really you, Tyra?” he demanded.

I nodded, reaching for him. Hesitating at first, he took me in his arms and held me as I wept. Now I was home.

My father was never the trusting sort. He grilled me before I satisfied him that I was his daughter. Then I made my report, telling him everything, save some of the more lurid details, and leaving out Tisa’s role.

He stopped his pacing for a moment when I reached a certain point. “You’re the Queen of Tulem?” he asked me in disbelief.

“Until they find out who I am, or when I leave, Father.”

“My son, the Queen,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Continue,” he said, waving his arm.

I finished the narrative as it began to get dark.

“That is the most insane story I’ve ever heard. Damn it, why didn’t you come to me with this before you left?”

I spoke carefully, knowing his temper. “Because one whiff, Father, one tiny hint of what we were doing that reached the ear of a spy would have doomed us both. I trusted you, but I couldn’t trust the people you would have to tell. It isn’t over yet. I need your help. I have to let Ketrick know that I’m not dead as soon as possible. He’s extremely capable, but he needs help to get rid of the rest of the cells, and I need to get back to Tulem.”

“Do you trust Ketrick?”

“With my life.”

“You say he wants to make you his slave.”

“He knows I’d kill him if he tried.” I grinned sheepishly, knowing how it was going to sound. “I’m trying to convince him to marry me.”

He gave me a hard look. “I see. Do you know who you are, Tyra?”

“Father?”

“It’s a simple question, but perhaps not so easy to answer. It was inevitable that you would change. Without your amazing ability, you almost surely would have been servicing soldiers by now.”

“With any luck, that won't happen. I’m a freewoman, Father. I want to get married, live in a house, even have a child someday if I can.”

“If you’re sure, then you should do just that, but consider this: It’s highly unlikely that an ordinary freewoman would be doing what you're doing. As far as I know, you're unique to Zhor. Your body and desires are those of a woman, but you’ve kept the mind of my son, the warrior. It may be that your compromise as just a wife and mother would not satisfy you. Choose carefully.”

“Would you be ashamed of me if I chose the house and husband?”

“Now that’s a question a woman would ask. Didn’t I say that you should if you were sure? Don’t be obtuse, Tyra. I just want you to be happy.” He sighed, pulling his hand through his hair, then pulled up a chair beside the bed. “This isn’t so easy for me either. Besides seeing my son as a woman, I have to get used to you thinking like one. I’ve noticed that women like to be told things that are obvious to men, to be reassured occasionally.”

“That seems to be true, Father. I don’t know why, maybe because women depend on men so much.”

He leaned forward then, his eyes calm and direct. “I’m very proud of my oldest daughter.”

I shed a few tears, but refused to acknowledge them by rubbing them away. “I knew that,” I replied.

He snorted, but not before I saw a rare smile.

“Father. It would be best if you didn’t tell anyone who I was. Tyra l’Fay is supposed to be a siolat girl in Tulem.”

“I’m the only one who knows. I’ve kept your presence here a secret, even from your mother, until I could verify your identity. Even the physician doesn’t know who you are, unless you told her.”

“I didn’t, but ... Damn. The constabulary wants to talk to me about Decker tomorrow.” I grabbed his hand. “Father! I can’t stay here. I must get out of Batuk.”

“I’ll fix it with the authorities. Your new name is ... hmm, Lesa l’Bey, and you’re a new housekeeper. You were attacked. Dying, you became confused. You’ve…”

I shook my head. “It won’t work. Decker was a spy. He had poison in his tooth and the physician says my hand was covered in it. They’re not going to take a bribe on this one.” Gritting my teeth, I forced myself to sit up. “There are a dozen questions I can’t afford to explain. Father, I have to leave now.”

“Too late. Hadrian’s Gong will sound shortly. And how would you do that anyway? You can’t even walk.”

“I can ride. I need someone to take me to my horse early tomorrow. Father, find Ketrick and tell him that I’m all right. He answers to Gerras.” I told him a few places he might be. “Help him kill the spies. He knows what to do.” I lay back, exhausted.

“Yes, Your Majesty, immediately,” he said dryly.

Heat rose to my face. “Ah, Father, I’m sorry. It’s just…”

He silenced me with a finger across my lips, and said, “I’ll have dinner sent up, along with some painkillers and ice. You’re going to have a long ride tomorrow. Leave it to me. In the meantime, get some rest.” He hesitated, then leaned over and kissed my forehead, leaving me in shock. After he was gone I touched the spot gently. My father had never done that before.

Warmth filled me in a way that Tyr would never have allowed. I still had a father -- and might actually be a daughter of sorts in his mind. It required a whole new way of looking at him, a different set of obligations and expectations. Gods! Maybe he would expect me to pour tea for him. My hand shook thinking about what that simple act would mean. I had served men before, but this would be special -- and I wondered if I would even mind.

I slept very well that night, dreaming of a world that had never been, growing up as a girl, with a father and mother, brother and sister, so different and yet the same. Father’s hand shook me awake in the very early morning.

“Tyra. It’s time.”

A glance at the night candle told me it was about two hours before the gates opened. I sat up. It was still painful to move, but thanks to the drugs, not as bad. Father lit two wall lamps then put his arm around me and helped me to my feet. He’d brought a riding dress, one of my own before Ketrick had ‘abducted’ me, helping me pull it on, and lowering a blouse over my arms and head awkwardly while I balanced on my good leg.

“What news, Father?”

“I found Ketrick last night. I’d spread several notes around the city and met him just outside the garden gate. He was much relieved to know you were safe. Then I helped him eliminate the last of the other cell in the lower city. We’ll finish the job after you leave.”

I sighed in relief and looked up. “Thank you, Ashtar.”

Father chuckled like grim Death just before a bloody battle. “The Goddess of Mercy will need to avert her eyes today. I approve of Ketrick. He’s a pure warrior, and moves with the economy of the experienced.”

“You’re helping him by yourself?”

“I awoke Ron, Der, and Reth earlier. They’ll meet Ketrick at the Fortress Gate before it opens. I’ll join them later.”

“I’m sorry. This is hardly warrior’s work.”

His eyes reflected the yellow light brightly as he spat on the floor. “That for spies and saboteurs! Anyone who would do what they did to you does not deserve the warriors code.”

“Not that I disagree, but I think Decker was special. It was like he lacked something that makes us human.”

“You still call him Decker. You don’t know who he was? His name is carved into your stomach.”

“I wasn’t in a position to see what he was carving.”

“His name was Gert Lude.” He watched me for signs of recognition.

I shrugged. “All I know is that I’m glad his name wasn’t longer.”

He laughed, a low rumbling sound. “Tyra, he is, as far as I know, the only man ever to be purged from the Assassin’s Guild for cruelty. Can you believe it? He was giving them a bad name. Even Ketrick was impressed. We should go soon. Are you ready?”

I attached a veil and nodded. “Ready.”

He picked me up in his arms easily, carried me downstairs, then past a pair of guards at the main entrance and by the practice field. As we passed the barracks, three women in slave tunics and collars emerged, heading towards the slave quarters. The blonde yawned contentedly -- undoubtedly she had been used well -- and the redhead stretched her neck attractively. The auburn-haired beauty in the middle laughed over some joke while holding her hands a span apart, showing the others the measurement of some object. I felt a momentary pang of the most peculiar mixture of regret, longing, and satisfaction.

The serum girls looked pleased after a night’s work of submission, satisfying the men I had led as Tyr. I knew the women, had known their joy, but I would always be apart. If I had waved to them as old friends, claiming kinship as a natural slave, they would only have been confused. Rita, or whatever her name was now, dominated the group in ways I recognized. I was pleased that it was the auburn slave, she of the sultry smile and head held high and proud, and not the blonde, Flower, who was first girl.

I did not think it wise to mention my thoughts to Father.

Father woke a stable hand on duty for the night and we rode away on separate mounts. My abused, swollen leg hurt like fire as delicate stitches stretched and tore, but I bore it; it had been inevitable and was just the beginning of a very long day.

We started at a walk, a gait for which I was thankful, for it exercised my legs the least.

“Father, how is Ron? I regret not meeting him.”

“Ron has twice raided successfully since you left and the men respect him. You should be proud of him; he’ll make a fine leader when I’m gone.” He grinned. “Which won’t be for a long time. Tisa would have liked to see you, I think.”

“Does she know I’m here in Batuk?”

“No. I only told Ron because I knew he could hold his tongue, and if something happened to me, he would have to know. The others are Eagles men I trust completely. Why?”

“I’d like you to give her a message: ‘I expect you to do what you promised.’ She’ll know what I’m talking about.”

His eyes narrowed, and he directed his mount a foot closer.

“You’re keeping something from me. You and she were close. Did Tisa know about your plan to go to Tulem?”

“She did, and even helped me prepare for it. Don’t criticize her for not telling you, Father. We forbade her from telling anyone. Tell her the message, but nothing else.” I leaned a little closer, straining the bandages on my stomach. ”It has to do with a private matter between women. Please don’t take this awry. I should have written a note and slipped it under her door.”

“A female matter, hmm? No. I’ll tell her. I suppose you two are allowed a secret or two.”

“Thanks. And could you tell Ron that I have three beautiful bath girls who are completely wasted on me -- and that I can still beat his ass with the staff.”

“Tyra,” he glowered, pointing his finger at me, “stop swearing immediately. I didn’t put up with it with Tisa, and I won’t put up with it with you, d’you hear?” His glare ended an instant later when he realized the absurdity of his words, but he didn’t retract them; they hung in the air between us like a portent.

The oddest sensation swept over me, as if I’d been offered something I hadn’t realized I’d longed for. My eyes threatened to tear and my hand went to him faster than I could think. “I’ll try to stop swearing, Father. I promise.”

His callused paw gripped my hand, and he gazed at me for a time, knowing, I believe, that with my acceptance, a bridge had just been crossed. “I know you will, daughter.”

When we reached the stables where my horse was being cared for, my leg throbbed, and it took a real effort to swing my leg over the saddle. Father wanted to help, but I shook my head. He understood; I might have to do this a few times before I made it to the way station where my guards were waiting. I let him put on the saddle and saddlebags, though. That would have been beyond me.

I dyed my hair and colored my eyes inside, and affixed the royal circlet to hold my hair. We had enough time for a quick breakfast in a local hutch, and then Hadrian’s Gong vibrated the city. Mounting my horse I removed the veil. Turning to the side to show him the less beaten half of my face, I allowed him a chance to see his daughter as she looked as Queen.

“Father, come visit me sometime.”

“If you’re still there, I might,” he said gruffly. Pointing towards the way to the gate with his chin, he slapped the flanks of my steed. “Now go! You’re wasting daylight.”

With a final wave, I rode away through the gate and down the road to the south. Injured as I was, a trot was a series of painful jolts, but I smiled through them all. As my father’s daughter, my life would never be the same, but I had a home again. Ketrick and Father would handle Batuk. All I had to do was finish the job at my end.

The sun was low in the west when I finally dragged into the way station. Despite retying my bindings, my leg had swollen, pulling all my stitches away and I was bleeding through the bandages and dress. My waist and up was agony from holding my torso still. The bandages there had rubbed my flesh raw and abraded every damn slice of every bloody letter of Gert Lude’s name.

The guards on watch ran to my side. “Majesty!” exclaimed one, as he realized my condition.

“Help me down,” I said through my teeth. I leaned forward to swing my free leg around. He half lifted me from the saddle and I swung down stiffly, managing to merely grunt from the pain when I wanted to scream. A big guard caught me in his arms as I collapsed.

“Thermin is dead. I barely got away,” I gasped, gripping the slick mail at his shoulder. “Get me inside. I must rest! We must get back to Tulem and warn them! Batuk knows!”

He obeyed my first command and brought me to a table, laying me out on hastily gathered pelts. I gave a look to Turcote and one other; a lean man, although powerfully built, named Reyfer; both trained in the healing arts.

Turcote inhaled sharply when he saw my swollen leg and hissed at my stomach. “Majesty, how did this happen?” he demanded, gripping his hands into fists, and his eyes blazed as if seeking a man to kill.

I held my hand over my eyes wearily. “Betrayal, traitors, Turcote. The one who did this to me is dead. I killed him myself. Thermin died with honor bringing me to safety. But I fear that our spies in Batuk are dead. If any are left alive, they are in great danger.”

“Majesty, you can’t travel like this,” said Turcote. “Your wounds are serious. Some of the cuts on your stomach are infected.”

I glared at both of them. “Reyfer, fix me up as best you can with what you have. Turcote, find me a wagon; steal the next one you see. I don’t care. I must get back to Tulem as soon as possible. Go!”
 
 

 
Thanks for the comments! I do love them. :) Could it be that Tyra will save her city this next chapter? Stay tune and find out! ~Aardvark