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weapon, and gazed on me and her look passed from astonishment through anger to a brooding
puzzlement. Then:
What am I to do with you?
Nothing. It is what I am to do with you. Boy! I turned to the lad, who was not yet full grown, a
dimpled handsome boy wearing a rose-colored tunic and with a pretty little dagger swinging from silver
chains at his waist. His brown Vallian hair tumbled in locks about his ears. Boy! Pull out that carpet
that long wide one with the silken tassels and spread it out on the floor.
She knew at once.
You would not dare!
How much do you hate me, Ros? I kept to this name of hers, instead of Dayra, out of an instinctive
feeling for the moment, where Ros the Claw was at home and Dayra not.
Hate you? More than you can imagine more than the whole world can encompass! She had not
moved since that first instinctive gesture. Her face beautiful, ah, yes, beautiful and passionate, willful,
stubborn, marked with a pride I could sigh over, and marked, also, with a vicious sadness I found
desolating her face bore now the high flush of a controlled anger. Are you not deserving of all the
hate and all the contempt of the whole wide world?
Yes.
Her hand went to her throat, above the rim of the black leathers. She was surprised. But
Turn around, Ros the Claw, and I will fasten up your wrists. Stand, boy! For the lad made to draw his
toy dagger.
The footfall at my back was soft. It was not soundless. I should not speak to you had that footstep been
soundless. I ducked and turned and the drexer was out and the giant who slashed a giant sword at me
staggered on with the violence of his blow. He was quick. Off balance, before I could get back and the
drexer into him he swung around, the giant sword sweeping. I hurdled it and landed cat-footed and so
faced him.
Well, he was big. He was broad and wide and bulky and he went up and up and up, his thatch of
straw-yellow hair overtopping me by seven good inches. He wore a bronze-studded leather kax, and
arm-bands of beaten gold, and a war-kilt of ochre and bronze, pteruges which swung to his knees. His
sandals would have carried a landing party from ship to shore. And his sword massive, thick through
and wide, with a solid pommel shaped like a zhantil-head that sword was like no other I had seen on
Kregen. I rather fancied it would be slow, even for him, even with his enormous muscles.
Dayra laughed her silver tinkle.
You have not met Brun before. I think the meeting opportune. She was enjoying this. Do not slay him
Hyr Brun. His mangy hide has a certain value in certain quarters. We will grow fat on his profit.
Despite the gross proportions of that sword, Brun carried it one-handed and the hilt was close, not
fashioned for two-handed work, not even for hand-and-a-half. I took three quick backward steps.
Brun s cheerful face, open, mellow, clean-shaven and with a few spots on one cheek, broke into a
delighted smile. His reactions were those of a cat stalking a mouse. The drexer snapped away into the
scabbard. I reached around.
So, master, you give in? Brun s voice carried a clarity of sound amazing, until you realized the
enormous cathedral-cavity of his lungs. That is wise of you. The mistress is to be obeyed in all things.
I don t know where you got him, Ros, I said, as I put my hand on the hilt of the Krozair brand. But
I d like to make friends with a thousand or so. What a bonny regiment they would make for Vallia!
For my Vallia! she spat at me. Never yours!
Well, my girl, you are going into that carpet, and this Hyr Brun is going to carry you out. You had best
reconcile yourself to that. I whipped the longsword out and it sparked a shard of light into that chamber
as it swung out into line. As for you, friend Brun. I shall not slay you, as you would not me. But carry
your mistress in the carpet you will.
He boomed a gigantic laugh and rushed.
The fight was not pretty or extraordinarily pretty depending on your personal viewpoint.
He had a knack of swinging the huge sword around in his fist as though it was a length of rope so that it
wove a circle of light. The trick was effective. Besides demonstrating his strength it confused his
opponent. Inch had a similar trick with his long Saxon-pattern axe. Again I do not wish to dwell on the
fight. It was interesting. Brun wore a leather strap around his head which confined his thatch of yellow
hair. The Krozair brand met the gigantic sword and the metal rang and the jolt belted up my arms and
across my shoulders. But the Krozair Disciplines held and the blows slanted and glanced, and, like a
striking risslaca, the longsword licked out and sliced neatly through the leather fillet. Not a drop of blood
was drawn, the skin was not marked. But the leather fell away and Brun s yellow hair dropped down
before his face.
Before he had time to brush it away I stepped in and clouted him over the head with the flat.
He dropped. I do not think there can be many men born of women who will not drop when struck by a
Krozair brand.
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