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“There is the i
They rode into the i
Hereward led the way into the i
“Unfortunate,” muttered Mister Fitz, as he saw that the person so inconvenienced was not only a soldier, but wore the red sash of a junior officer, and was a woman.
“I do apolog—” Hereward began to say. He stopped, not only because the woman was talking, but because he had looked at her. She was as tall as he was, with ash-blond hair tied in a queue at the back, her hat in her left hand. She was also very beautiful, at least to Hereward, who had grown up with women who ritually cut their flesh. To others, her attractiveness might be considered marred by the scar that ran from the corner of her left eye out toward the ear and then cut back again toward the lower part of her nose.
“You are clumsy, sir!”
Hereward stared at her for just one second too long before attempting to speak again.
“I am most—”
“You see something you do not like, I think?” interrupted the woman. “Perhaps you have not served with females? Or is it my face you do not care for?”
“You are very beautiful,” said Hereward, even as he realized it was entirely the wrong thing to say, either to a woman he had just met or an officer he had just run into.
“You mock me!” swore the woman. Her blue eyes shone more fiercely, but her face paled, and the scar grew more livid. She clapped her broad-brimmed hat on her head and straightened to her full height, with the hat standing perhaps an inch over Hereward. “You shall answer for that!”
“I do not mock you,” said Hereward quietly. “I have served with men, women . . . and eunuchs, for that matter. Furthermore, tomorrow morning I shall be signing on as at least colonel of artillery, and a colonel may not fight a duel with a lieutenant. I am most happy to apologize, but I ca
“Ca
Hereward sighed and looked around the common room.
Misolu had spoken truly that the i
“Very well,” he snapped. “It is foolishness, for I intended no offence. When and where?”
“Immediately,” said the woman. “There is a garden a little way behind this i
“How pleasant,” said Hereward. “What is your name, madam?”
“I am Lieutenant Jessaye of the Temple Guard of Shûme. And you are?”
“I am Sir Hereward of the High Pale.”
“And your friends, Sir Hereward?”
“I have only this moment arrived in Shûme, Lieutenant, and so ca
“I am pleased to meet you, Lieutenant,” said Mister Fitz. He doffed his hat and veil, sending a momentary frisson of small twitches among all in the room save Hereward.
Jessaye nodded back but did not answer Fitz. Instead she spoke to Hereward.
“I need no second. Should you wish to employ sabres, I must send for mine.”
“I have a sword in my gear,” said Hereward. “If you will allow me a few minutes to fetch it?”
“The garden lies behind the stables,” said Jessaye. “I will await you there. Pray do not be too long.”
Inclining her head but not doffing her hat, she stalked past and out the door.
“An inauspicious begi
“Very,” said Hereward gloomily. “On several counts. Where is the i
The garden was very pretty. Railed in iron, it was not gated, and so accessible to all the citizens of Shûme. A wandering path led through a grove of lantern-hung trees to the specified lawn, which was oval and easily fifty yards from end to end, making the centre rather a long way from the lanternlight, and hence quite shadowed. A small crowd of persons who had previously been in the i
“Do be careful, Hereward,” said Fitz quietly, observing the woman flex her knees and practice a stamping attack ending in a lunge. “She looks to be very quick.”
“She is an officer of their temple guard,” said Hereward in a hoarse whisper. “Has their god imbued her with any particular vitality or puissance?”
“No, the godlet does not seem to be a martial entity,” said Fitz. “I shall have to undertake some investigations presently, as to exactly what it is—”
“Sir Hereward! Here at last.”
Hereward grimaced as Jessaye called out. He had changed as quickly as he could, into a very fine suit of split-sleeved white showing the yellow shirt beneath, with gold ribbons at the cuffs, shoulders and front lacing, with similarly cut bloomers of yellow showing white breeches, with silver ribbons at the knees, artfully displayed through the side-notches of his second-best boots.
Jessaye, in contrast, had merely removed her uniform coat and stood in her shirt, blue waistcoat, leather breeches and unadorned black thigh boots folded over below the knee. Had the circumstances been otherwise, Hereward would have paused to admire the sight she presented and perhaps offer a compliment.
Instead he suppressed a sigh, strode forward, drew his sword and threw the scabbard aside.
“I am here, Lieutenant, and I am ready. Incidentally, is this small matter to be concluded by one or perhaps both of us dying?”
“The city forbids duels to the death, Sir Hereward,” replied Jessaye. “Though accidents do occur.”
“What, then, is to be the sign for us to cease our remonstrance?”
“Blood,” said Jessaye. She flicked her sword towards the onlookers. “Visible to those watching.”
Hereward nodded slowly. In this light, there would need to be a lot of blood before the onlookers could see it. He bowed his head but did not lower his eyes, then raised his sword to the guard position.
Jessaye was fast. She immediately thrust at his neck, and though Hereward parried, he had to step back. She carried through to lunge in a different line, forcing him back again with a more awkward parry, removing all opportunity for Hereward to riposte or counter. For a minute they danced, their swords darting up, down and across, clashing together only to move again almost before the sound reached the audience.