Six

  Sábria’s anger hadn’t cooled by the time she strode into her office.

  Shirin was standing just inside the door, leaning against the back wall with her arms crossed. When Sábria walked in, Shirin lifted a brow and handed her the leather crop.

  Sábria wanted to make completely sure Ailith understood her options. “Did you explain what she’s in for and that she can leave if she chooses?”

  “Yes.”

  “And she chose to continue her petition?”

  “Yes.”

  Sábria growled quietly. “Fine, then.” She strode to where Ailith waited with her back to them. Grabbing the warrior’s collar, she pushed her down onto the desk, raised the whip, and brought it down—hard. The whip cracked as she started low across the younger woman’s back and worked her way across the buttocks and then onto the upper thighs.

  Each time the whip whistled through the air, Ailith’s hands doubled up in anticipation of the pain slicing across her body. One hand inadvertently wadded up one of the parchments on Sábria’s desk. Her other hand, though, found a dagger-shaped letter opener which she clenched in a white-knuckled grip.

  Sábria caught sight of the blade, realizing a fraction too late that she’d left it lying out in the open where Ailith could grab it. She stopped and placed the knuckles of the hand holding the crop on the young woman’s back. “Drop the letter opener, Ailith.”

  When Ailith didn’t move, Shirin stepped beside Sábria and lightly placed her fingers on Ailith’s lower back, ready to intervene if she moved to attack the Arch Priestess.

  Sábria held up a finger, telling her to wait. She gently shook the fist holding Ailith’s collar to get her attention and repeated herself. “Ailith. Drop my letter opener.”

  Finally hearing Sábria’s words, Ailith jerked her head up. She looked at her right hand and threw the miniature sword away as though it had burnt a hole through her skin. “Shite!” She stood and turned. Panic twisted her features, and she shook her head vehemently. “I didn’t know I had that! I—” When she saw that Shirin had come forward, she shoved away, pushing the desk back with frightened determination. “I didn’t know!”

  Sábria dropped the whip and took hold of Ailith’s shoulders. “Ailith. It’s okay. I know you didn’t mean to. Stop.”

  The backward movement stopped.

  No longer angry, Sábria patiently reassured the young warrior. “If either of us thought you meant to attack me with the letter opener, you’d be lying on the floor with your arm broken in several places.”

  Seeing that Ailith meant no harm to Sábria, Shirin returned to her place by the door to give Ailith the distance she needed to tamp down her panic.

  Ailith quickly swiped a tear from her eye and then covered her face with her forearm so she could use her sleeve to wipe her cheeks dry.

  Once she’d composed herself, Sábria indicated she should stand in front of her desk.

  Ailith took her place again, facing the desk that was now pushed almost to the back wall.

  Sábria leaned against the desk and crossed her arms. Sighing, she held Ailith’s gaze for a long while. When she judged the young woman had regained her sense of internal balance, she lowered her chin and spoke very softly, wanting to give Ailith every opportunity to change her mind and return to her people. “Now, Child. If, after that, you want to return to the Dreyuthan army, Duke Ravenkind said he’d welcome you.” She was more than halfway hoping the youngster would take her up on the offer.

  Ailith got a stubborn look in her eye. “I can’t say I’m partial to this thing.” She kicked the crop out from under her feet. “But it’s better than what I’m used to.” She turned to Shirin and rubbed the welts on her backside. “And yer right. It hurts way worse than ya’d think.”

  Shirin lifted a brow and dipped her chin once, agreeing with Ailith’s assessment.

  Ailith turned back to the Arch Priestess, “But, I’d still like to stay if ye’ll have me.”

  Sábria lifted one shoulder. “Okay then. I have some interview questions I’d like to ask. Would you prefer to answer them now, or do you need some time to—”

  A guttural scoff was Ailith’s answer. The whipping had hurt, but none of her bones were broken, and she was still conscious. A definite improvement over the beatings she’d taken at the hands of the Dreyuthan army. Her backside stung like a thousand bees had planted their stingers in her butt, but all-in-all, she was fine.

  “Let’s begin, then. The Duke said you’ve been demoted before. How many times has that happened?”

  That wasn’t normally a difficult question, but Ailith had to stop and think a moment. She was nervous because she really wanted to be accepted by this woman, but the answer to that question probably wasn’t going to do it for her. “Four or five, okay, more like seven. Well, two weren’t my fault.” She raised her brows and flipped her hands out to the side. “Okay, maybe they were my fault, but th’ last one, Sergeant Ahern was really hungover, so it were partially his fault. So, when ya get right down to it, demoted seven times, but only six-and-a-half times were my fault.” She nodded decisively and hoped they could move on to the next question.

  Sábria had never seen someone make such a rapid recovery after receiving one of her punishments. She blinked and then made the mistake of glancing behind Ailith at Shirin, who was biting her lip to keep from smiling. “Okay. Let’s move on. I know you became a warrior at an early age and have some training. Which weapons do you prefer?”

  “Well, I’ve tried a bunch. When I use th’ bola, I can get th’ thing goin’, but I don’t have a clue about where th’ sucker’s gonna land. I usually try to practice between two hills, but one time I were on a mountain, and I were facin’ this way,” she pointed forward, “and th’ damned thing flew that way.” She hiked her thumb over her shoulder. “It sailed over a cliff, so I had to climb down because if ya go back without yer weapon, they beat th’ shite out of ya, and I had to dive into a river, well, a stream, really, but deep enough to dive, and it took me half a candlemark to find th’ bastard.” She finished and glanced at Sábria to make sure she was still with her.

  For her part, Sábria was having a difficult time keeping a straight face. She nodded, indicating Ailith should continue.

  “Well then, there’s th’ bow and arrows. I’m a bit better at those. At least I can send th’ suckers in th’ right direction, ya know, somewhere near th’ target.” She gave Sábria a warning look. “Just don’t be standing next to th’ target unless ya need a few extra holes to piss out of, if ya get me meanin’.”

  Not able to look directly at Shirin without bursting into laughter, Sábria glanced out of the corner of her eye and saw the Commander close her eyes and pinch her nose shut before turning to face the wall. Sábria looked down at the ground to compose herself before asking, “Any other weapons experience we should know about?”

  “Oh, aye. I guess I’m pretty good with th’ sword, and I’m really good with me knives.”

  Having gotten herself under control, Shirin pulled in a deep breath and faced the room again.

  There were many more questions to pick from, but Sábria chose the most important one. “Why do you want to join the Daughters of Elyon?”

  “Well. I like that ya protect th’ women, and I like that all th’ warriors are women. And—” She stopped and shrugged.

  “And?”

  Ailith shook her head and scrunched her nose up. “It’s nie important. Well, it’s important to me, but I don’t think it’ll be important to you.”

  “Let me be the judge of what I consider important. Why else do you want to join our order?”

  “Well.” Ailith looked down at her boring brown tunic and trews and then pointed to Sábria’s uniform. “It’s because I look good in black.” Her brows rose into her hairline. “I mean, I look really good in black.”

  Shirin left the room, and Sábria held up a finger. “Would you excuse me a moment? Wait here.” Her second wasn’t in the outer waiting room, but Sábria knew where she’d find her. She went down the hall and opened the door to her dayroom, where she found Shirin lying back on the sofa, laughing so hard she was crying.

  Shutting the door so Ailith wouldn’t accidentally overhear them, she sat and began to chuckle at her friend’s reaction. It didn’t take long for the infectious laughter to overtake her, and soon, both women were laughing and repeating Ailith’s answers to each other before breaking down into laughter again.

  Shirin sobered a bit. “Do you think she’s really as air-headed as she appears?”

  Sábria finally got herself under control and wiped the tears from her eyes. “No, I don’t. There was a definite trace of mischief in her eyes as she was playing the fool.” She smiled and shook her head. “Well, what do you think?”

  Shirin sat up and placed a hand on Sábria’s knee. “What do I think? Yesterday, I asked whether we’d be wise to take on another recruit on top of Emlyn and the newer young ones. That question still stands. But,” she shrugged, “I like her. She’s got spunk, and I didn’t see an ounce of self-pity after you disciplined her. I hate to say it, but I think she’d be a good fit.”

  Sábria grinned. “And she makes you laugh. That in and of itself is reason enough to keep her.” She rose and headed for the door with Shirin close on her heels.

  When they returned to the office, Ailith was still standing where they’d left her. Shirin took up her place by the door, and Sábria leaned against her desk. “Do you have a last name, Ailith?”

  “No, Milady.”

  “Ailith, as Arch Priestess of the Daughters of Elyon, I accept your petition to join our order. As you know, this is a lifetime commitment that can never be rescinded.” She moved forward and hugged her. “Welcome to our family.” When she released her, she indicated Shirin with a wave. “Commander Shirin will assign someone to get you settled in. We give everyone a sevenday to make themselves comfortable, and then you’ll begin your training. Any questions?”

  Ailith hadn’t stopped grinning since she heard the words, “I accept you into our order.” She was afraid that if she tried to answer, she’d start crying, so all she managed was a quick shake of her head.

  Shirin was already holding the door open, and with a glance and a wink at Sábria, the Commander escorted their newest recruit into her new life as a trainee Blade.

  Seven

  Ailith sat outside on a wooden bench, one of several set on either side of a series of fifteen rectangular outdoor tables placed at the far side of the central courtyard. With her back facing the portcullis, the dining hall was directly in front of her, and the rest of the cobblestone yard was surrounded by various multi-story buildings. At this time of year, the meals were served in the inner bailey, otherwise referred to as the central courtyard, which was an open area inside the Temple proper.

  The inner courtyard was vast. Thirty horses could easily stand nose to tail until the final horse’s nose bumped against the wall separating the inner bailey from the outer one. In the center, a large statue of Elyon embracing a warrior stood in the middle of a round water-filled fountain. Trees shaded sections of the yard, and colorful flowers brightened the beds surrounding them.

  Apparently, during the Greenmere season, the Temple residents preferred the relatively cooler outdoor temperatures to the sweltering indoor heat that builds up by early afternoon. People were assigned to eat in shifts to accommodate the nearly two hundred and fifty warriors and one hundred support personnel who were permanent residents there.

  The group Ailith had been assigned to eat with included full Blades as well as another shiv. Over the last two days, she’d received several briefings from Commander Shirin, and she was scheduled to meet a sergeant, or Guardian Prime as they referred to them, the day after next. Her actual training wouldn’t begin until the sevenday orientation was over, and apparently, they’d kept her next day’s schedule free from any appointments to give her time to explore.

  The dormitory to her far left was a rectangular building built from roughened red blocks. Tall windows, approximately a hand-width wide, ran from about waist high to the ceiling of the first floor. These were spaced the distance of two good-sized men lying head to foot on the ground.

  Regular, rectangular windows began on the second floor. Each of the successive five floors also contained windows, and several double doors opened onto balconies that dotted the walls at irregular intervals. Ailith craned her neck, looked up to the fourth floor, and then counted four windows to the right. She smiled inwardly when she saw the small piece of blue ribbon she’d attached to the lowest louver on her shutters. No one else knew it was there, but to her, it proclaimed that the room was hers and hers alone.

  She’d been sure Commander Shirin had been teasing when she’d opened the door to the room and told her that was where she’d be living. Her entire life had been spent in coed dorms where twenty to thirty farting, snoring soldiers slept in cots they shared based on their shift rotation with at least one other person. Even out on campaigns, there’d been at least five soldiers to a tent. Her room here wasn’t big by any means, but it was hers. Her bed. Her closet. Her dresser.

  The infirmary was to the right of the dormitory, and between it and the dining hall stood a magnificent tower that, to a peasant such as Ailith, was absolutely awe-inspiring. The building was a round, eight-story structure made from highly polished slabs of some type of black stone Ailith had never seen in Dreyutha. Windows dotted the circumference from the ground to the top floor, where a dome with four floor-to-ceiling windows allowed for unobstructed views of the surrounding city.

  Turning her attention to the food she’d piled on her plate, Ailith picked up her mug of herbal tea and raised it to her lips but was stopped by one of the Blades sitting opposite her, who’d taken a dislike to her from the start.

  “Are you still drinking that sissy drink?” The woman held up her own mug. “The ale here can’t be beat. Or isn’t it up to your Dreyuthan standards?”

  Ailith had already had this conversation with the Blade, who’d introduced herself as Khaldo, but she was willing to play along. “I’m no good with spirits. It can make me kinda mean, and I don’t think that’d be such a great idea here in th’ Temple.” She shrugged and grinned, and the Blade returned the smile with a reasonable facsimile of something friendly and cheerful.

  She wasn’t much older than Ailith, twenty or twenty-one at the most. Her blonde hair was shorn close to the scalp, an affectation Ailith had noticed on a certain number of women who hung together as a group. Her eyes were small, resembling the eyes of a tulsi horn potato from Ailith’s childhood garden back home. Ailith grinned down at the spuds on her plate, scooped some onto her fork, and shoveled them into her mouth. She swallowed and then rinsed everything down with the last of her tea.

  Khaldo rose, picked up her own mug, and held out her hand for Ailith’s. “Here, I’m going for more. I’ll grab your tea while I’m there.”

  Suspicious of her sudden affability, Ailith nonetheless handed over her mug. As she knew from previous experience, being new was a walk on a bouncing tightrope. There was definitely an art to balancing between being friendly and not letting the bullies walk all over you. And there were bullies in the Temple, just as there were in any military organization. Here, though, they hid their bullying a little better than most.

  She thanked Khaldo when the Blade returned and resumed her seat on the other side of the table. One sip told Ailith the wench had substituted ale for her tea. She spat the mouthful into Khaldo’s face, threw the mug at her, and dove over the table, wrapping her hands around the woman’s throat.

  Using her momentum, Ailith shoved her off the bench and down onto her back. As they hit the cobblestones, she jammed her knee into Khaldo’s stomach, driving the wind from her lungs. Khaldo was a full Blade, used to hand-to-hand fighting, but apparently not as used to it as Ailith, who’d had turns fighting with the bullies in her previous regiment.

  As they rolled over and over, trying to get enough of a purchase to throw punches that would get the other’s attention, the cobblestones dug into Ailith’s still-aching back. She was finally able to get Khaldo pinned beneath her and trapped her legs by locking her ankles together and pushing down with all her considerable leg strength. She pummeled the woman’s face and shoulders until someone roughly pulled her off and hauled her into the guardhouse twenty paces away.

  “Stand where I put ya.” As soon as her captor spoke, Ailith recognized Prime Geller’s distinctive Trenchian Isles accent and knew she was in for it. Geller’s reputation was of one who had no patience for troublemakers and even less for troublemaking shivs. When the little powerhouse drew her weapon and stepped behind her, Ailith accepted the two thwacks from the flat of the woman’s blade with stoic resignation. The second blow actually shoved her forward a step and drove the air from her lungs, so she moved her foot back into position and waited. Apparently, the Prime had finished because she growled, “Stand at attention when yer in front of me.”

  Ailith hadn’t realized she’d bent forward to get away from the blows, and she pulled herself into the stiffest military posture possible.

  “What was that about, ya skut-brained shiv?”

  “No more’n horsin’ around, Sergeant…uh, Guardian Prime Geller.”

  “Ach.” The Prime spat on the floor in disgust. “Yer th’ troublemaker from Dreyutha. Nothin’ good ever comes outta that whore infested backwater, an’ here I’m t’ be stuck wit’ ya on deadwatch wit’ t’ other worthless shivs. Bah.” Without another word, she pivoted on her heel and left Ailith standing in the little room.