Lioness Rampant

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

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

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

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

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

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

  Alanna stayed, arranging twigs into a pyramid.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  three

  The Warlord’s Daughter

  Alanna didn’t have to repeat it—Liam heard. Rising from his crouch, he let his weapon fall. Alanna put Lightning down. To have Liam caught because a girl-child had the drop on her was humiliating. She was supposed to be able to take care of herself.

  “Amazing,” Alanna’s captor said. “We go hunting for game, and we find you instead.”

  Alanna heard Coram swear in the distance. “Coram, are you all right?” she yelled.

  “Some lass is aimin’ a crossbow at me,” was the response. “Only my dignity’s hurt, so far.”

  Alanna’s guard called, “Thayet?”

  “I’m all right, Buri.” The voice was female, deep, and clear.

  Black eyes locked on Alanna. “Start walking,” Buri ordered.

  “I won’t leave my sword in the dirt,” Alanna snapped.

  The stocky girl stooped to grab Lightning, her crossbow sight never moving from Alanna’s chest. “Now go,” she commanded. “Hands in the air.”

  “Shame your mother didn’t drown you at birth,” Alanna muttered, obeying.

  “What makes you think she didn’t?”

  Awaiting them were refugees; their belongings overburdened a donkey. The group itself was small: two teenaged girls, two boys aged ten or so, and a girl nearly the same age. One of the teenagers carried a baby.

  Coram approached, leading their horses. Guarding him was a woman of Alanna’s age, dressed in a split skirt, boots, a cotton shirt, and a fleece-lined vest. She bore her crossbow like one who knew its use. She was also the most beautiful female Alanna had ever seen. Her face—particularly her nose—was strong-boned; her hazel eyes were deep-set under even brows; her chin was determined. Her mouth was naturally red, accented by ivory skin. She wore her jet-black hair pulled into a knot.

  Alanna sighed. “Cute” was the best description she could hope for.

  Liam bowed to the young woman. “Your Royal Highness.”

  “Have we met, sir?” Hers was the voice that had answered Buri.

  “No, Highness.” Despite his peasant’s accent, the Dragon was as gallant as a noble. “But I’d have to be blind not to recognize a daughter of the Wilima house.”

  Thayet jian Wilima smiled. “Sadly, I do take after my father,” the Princess admitted. She fingered the curve of her nose.

  Alanna stared at Thayet. The Princess had once been considered as a wife for Jon, but the Queen had said no—there was bad blood in the Wilima line. But seeing her, Alanna thought it was too bad Jon couldn’t marry this one. She didn’t look as if she’d let him stand on his dignity for long. The idea made her grin.

  Buri poked her with her bow. “Her Highness isn’t someone to laugh at.”

  “Don’t, Buri,” Thayet said. “These people aren’t enemies.”

  “We don’t know they’re friends.”

  Liam glanced at Alanna’s guard. “Believe me, K’mir, if I wanted to turn the tables on you, I would.” He feinted to the side and lunged forward. Before Alanna could see what he’d done, Buri sat in the dirt, her crossbow in Liam’s hands. He offered it back to her as she rose. Buri took it, her eyes filled with respect. She put the arrow in her quiver and holstered the bow with a nod.

  Her reaction made Alanna like her. From what she knew of the K’mir tribes to Sarain’s north, Buri probably was reared a warrior. She took being disarmed well.

  Liam performed introductions. When he gave Alanna’s titles, Buri whispered, “A full knight is a woman—a noblewoman?”

  Coram bristled. “She has the bluest blood in Tortall,” he growled. “There never was a zhir or jin anythin’ fit t’polish a Trebond boot.”

  “Coram,” Alanna sighed.

  “The family’s in The Book of Gold,” added Coram. “No zhir or even zhirit were writ down till The Book of Silver—
”

  “I think it’s wonderful,” Thayet interrupted. “It’s time we nobles showed we aren’t delicate flowers, instead of leaving the glory to our Shang and K’miri sisters.” Changing the subject diplomatically, she asked, “Where are you three bound?”

  Coram told them about their journey (but not its object) as Alanna appraised Thayet’s group. They were tired; the children’s faces were grey with exhaustion. How long had they been traveling, and how much longer could they go?

  Coram arrived at the same conclusion. “If ye’ll forgive my sayin’ it, yer Highness, ye need help. Where’re ye and the young ones bound?”

  “The Mother of Waters in Rachia,” Buri replied. “All of us but Thayet and the baby and me were students in the convent Mother of Mountains. The baby, Thayet...found.”

  “Soldiers killed his family,” volunteered the girl who carried the infant. “Everyone but him, poor little man.”

  Alanna did some calculations. “Rachia’s four days’ ride south,” she said. “Except you’re afoot—those of you who can walk.”

  “We had no choice,” Thayet said. “Zhir Anduo’s army was coming.”

  “Doesn’t the Warlord have men to protect you?” Liam asked.

  “They ran.” Buri was plainly contemptuous.

  Thayet protested, “Buri, that’s not fair. They were afraid,” she told Liam. “They had no way of knowing if their families were safe.”

  Buri shrugged. “In plain talk, it still means they ran.” Thayet glared at her companion.

  Smoothing his mustache, Liam said, “Coram’s right, you need us. We’ll get you to the Mother of Waters.”

  Buri wasn’t willing to accept this. “We don’t need them!” she told Thayet hotly. “We don’t even know if they’re on our side...”

  “Don’t be silly, Buri,” Thayet replied. “I haven’t heard Alanna’s name, but I know about Liam Ironarm. People like this don’t prey on people like us.”

  “There’s a first time for everything,” the K’mir muttered.

  Thayet’s response was in K’mir. Buri looked away, and Thayet turned to Alanna with a smile. “Please understand. Buri’s family has served my mother’s family for generations. That means I can’t tell her to do anything. She’ll always say what’s on her mind—no matter how much it embarrasses me—and she behaves as she pleases.”

  Alanna looked at Coram, who hid a grin. “I understand, Princess Thayet,” the knight said dryly. “I, too, suffer from old family servants.”

  “If this is settled, I want to set up camp,” Liam interrupted. “The little ones are asleep on their feet.”

  Alanna and Buri exchanged looks for a moment—Alanna’s measuring, Buri’s sullen. Finally Buri nodded. “If that’s the way it has to be.”

  “It is,” Thayet snapped.

  They camped where they were, the men settling the children after they’d been fed. Alanna took the first watch, enjoying the quiet. She had a feeling she wouldn’t have too much quiet to enjoy for a week or so.

  “Me and Thayet were fine before you came.” Buri spoke unexpectedly, and Alanna jumped. Hadn’t she learned once tonight, on the ridge, that this K’mir made no noise when she moved? “Thayet’s K’miri-taught, and I’m K’miri-bred. We take care of ourselves.”

  Alanna felt a surge of empathy. She understood this girl-warrior’s hurt pride. “For you and Thayet that might be enough, though I’m not sure. An entire army’s looking for her. But what if something happens to you? The little ones will starve.”

  Buri sat on the ground beside her. “I’m supposed to look after Thayet,” she explained. “I help with the children, but I’m not good at it the way she is. And I can’t leave them to die. What’ve they done?”

  “So the Princess is your chief responsibility. If anything happens to her while you’re worrying about the children, you will blame yourself.”

  Buri nodded. “You probably think that’s foolish.”

  “Not at all” Alanna felt as if she spoke to herself when she was Prince Jonathan’s squire. “Coram and Liam and I will help you make sure Thayet’s unharmed, all right?”

  They sat together for a while, saying nothing. At last the K’mir stood and offered Alanna her hand. “I’m glad you joined us,” she said as the knight returned her grip. “I didn’t like the idea of taking on any armies by myself.”

  Alanna hid a grin. “Thayet would’ve helped,” she pointed out.

  “Unh-unh,” was the emphatic reply. “You think I’d let Kalasin’s daughter endanger herself? I’d put her somewhere safe, where she couldn’t get in trouble.”

  Yes, Faithful said when Buri returned to her bed. She is very much like you at that age.

  “Surely I didn’t think I could beat an army single-handed!”

  You still do.

  “The trouble with arguing with a cat is that cats don’t hesitate to say anything about you, no matter how crazy it is,” she complained. “You can’t win an argument that way!”

  Nor should you try. With that, Faithful trotted off for a walk in the forest.

  The next morning Liam and Alanna did their dawn exercises. “I don’t care how strange yesterday was,” he told Alanna when she grumbled. “You don’t get good unless you practice.” The worst of it was that he was right. Were he and Faithful in a plot to make her feel young and ignorant?

  Liam cooked breakfast as Alanna roused their companions. Once they were fed, the company was ready to set out. Buri and Coram erased signs of their camp: bandits who would ignore three people would attack a large party. Liam let the boys and the ten-year-old girl ride his placid Drifter. He led the horse, keeping a sharp eye on their surroundings. Thayet walked, the baby in a sling on her chest; Buri stayed with her Princess. Coram’s Anvil bore the teenaged girls. Then came the packhorse Bother and the donkey (who kept well away from the bad-tempered Bother). Riding at the rear of the column, keeping an eye on their surroundings as Liam did, were Alanna, Faithful, and Moonlight.

  At their noon stop, Alanna found the stream and splashed her face with cold water. Buri came to her, bearing an armful of baby. “Here.” She gave him to Alanna, who froze—what if she dropped him? Sighing, Buri fixed the knight’s hands in a better holding position before she turned away.

  “Where are you going?” Alanna demanded.

  “You act like you’ve never held a baby before!”

  “I haven’t.”

  Buri stared at Alanna as if she couldn’t believe her ears. “Never? There are babies everywhere—”

  “Perhaps so, but their parents didn’t ask me to hold them!” The infant wriggled, and Alanna tried to give him back to Buri.

  “You have to learn sometime.” The K’mir turned away. “Stay there and don’t clutch him. I’m going for a blanket. You’ll be fine.”

  “I don’t think child care is a necessary part of my education,” Alanna said to herself. “It’s not like I plan to stay anywhere long enough to marry and have children.”

  The baby sneezed and wrinkled his face, which made her grin. Gently she bounced him as she had seen Coram do. To her dismay, the infant started to bawl. She cooed and rocked him to no avail—he worked himself into a tantrum. Buri returned with her blanket.

  “What’s wrong?” Alanna cried. “I only joggled him a little—”

  Buri opened the blanket on the ground and put clean diapers on it. “Probably wet,” she said. “Change him.” She left again.

  Alanna looked at the child in horror. “I never—” She was saying that too much lately—surely a proven knight was equal to anything! Trying to remember how Thayet had done it earlier, she put the child down and unwrapped him. A stench rose from the diaper: the baby was more than wet. When Alanna fumbled the knot open, she saw a damp brown mass was responsible. This can’t be worse than mucking out stables, she told herself, fighting her unhappy stomach. I’ve done that hundreds of times.

  Coram knelt beside her. “Take the diaper he fouled and wipe him with the edges,” he explai
ned, his eyes twinkling. When she looked at him pleadingly, Coram shook his head. “It’s not hard. Lift him by his ankles—he’s used to it. That’s the idea—get rid of as much as ye can. Put the dirty one aside.” He dampened a clean diaper in the stream and gave it to her. “Swab the poor mite down. Think how ye’d feel in that state. Easy, little lad,” he crooned, giving the baby a finger to hold. The infant grinned, showing a bit of ivory. “Teeth, is it? Let me see.” He ran his finger around the baby’s gums. “And two more comin’ in—no wonder ye’re scratchy.”

  Alanna stared at Coram as he gave her a fresh, dry diaper. “Where in the Mother’s Name did you learn all this?”

  “Fold it like a triangle. I was the oldest, and four more after me. When I governed Trebond, I watched the little ones when their mothers were workin’ in the fields. I like them fine.” He shook the finger the baby clutched; the infant crowed and babbled happily. “A grip like iron: this one’ll be a blacksmith, mark my words. No, no—if ye put it on him so loose, it’ll fall off. And that’s a fair knot.” Coram held the baby in the air and shook him gently, to be answered with a gleeful cackle.

  Alanna felt odd. Coram could’ve had a family years ago, if he hadn’t been working for Trebond.

  Coram looked at her. “Don’t start sayin’ maybe ye should bring me home to Rispah. We’ve somethin’ to do before we head back.” He touched her shoulder. “I’ve been raisin’ ye. I’ve no complaints of my life.”

  Buri showed Alanna how to feed the infant from a waterskin filled with goat’s milk. When that was done, Alanna picked up the child as she’d seen Liam do, patting him on the back. Now she had the knack of handling a baby!

  She was shocked by the infant’s burp, unpleasantly surprised when dampness spread over her back. Seeing her face, Buri laughed until she cried. Liam gave Alanna a wet cloth, fighting to keep his face straight. “Put down a clean rag first,” he explained. “They spit up when they’re burped—and they fuss when they aren’t.” Alanna went to change, red with embarrassment.