Garth looked at Zoli. "Well, that explains that."

  "I'll say," said Zoli. "Poor child never had a chance. Who ever thought of motherhood as a deadly weapon?" It was a concept of startling novelty to a woman whose best defense had always been killing the other person first. "We should be over there, standing by her in her hour of need, giving her a little moral support. And we would be, too, if a certain wizard I could mention wasn't such a baby." She gave Dean Porfirio a significant look.

  "You could always swim across," the wizard responded coldly.

  "Dressed like this?" Zoli clanged a fist against her iron breastplate.

  "It's not every woman who can bear four children and still fit into her wedding-day garb, eh, Dean?" Garth preened as if the credit were all his.

  "Impressive," said a rough and rumbly voice that did not belong to Dean Porfirio. It came from just under the bridge and was followed by the sound of stone grating against stone as a squat, blocky shape came half-walking, half-rolling into view.

  "Ah, good morning, Bursar Tailings," said Dean Porfirio.

  "Morning is never good to my kind," the troll replied. "Not unless it's cloudy with a chance of showers. Sunlight tends to turn our skin to stone and work its way inward from there."

  "It's nearly sunrise," Garth said. "What are you doing out-of-doors at this hour?"

  "Ethnic weakness," the bursar of Overford Academy replied in a voice that might be called gravelly and mean it. Like most trolls, he was short and not much bigger than a nail keg, with huge feet, a jutting jaw, and tusks. Unlike the normal run of his kinfolk, his flint-colored hair was neither shaggy nor unkempt, but carefully groomed and slicked back into a short braid. His complexion was granite gray, with a light stippling of acne or chisel marks. "Every so often, we trolls just have to spend a stretch of time under a bridge. If a billygoat or two goes tripping-trapping over it, so much the better. It's instinct, like the salmon swimming upstream to spawn, or the swallows returning to Swallow Combackington, or mothers trying to force their children into marriage." He nodded meaningly in the direction of Ethelberthina's massed relatives. "Charming old custom, a Maiden Morn. Especially if you've got no other hope of bringing your daughter to heel. Well, I'll just be on my way now and—"

  Dean Porfirio drew his wand and tapped the bursar lightly on one shoulder. Magic was the only way to stop a determined troll in his tracks; otherwise a man might as well try to impede the progress of a runaway boulder. "Just a moment, old man," the wizard said. "I'm confused, and I don't like it. What's this about a forced marriage?"

  "Holy schist, do you mean you're the only person in town who doesn't know?" The troll was genuinely shocked.

  "He's one of three," Garth said.

  "Then free my feet and we can go back to the Academy for a nice hot cup of tar and I'll tell you all about it."

  Zoli squatted and gave the troll her finest this-will-hurt-much-more-if-you-move look. "Save time; tell us now."

  "I have no time! You know what'll happen if I'm caught out after sunrise."

  Dean Porfirio clicked his tongue. "You won't turn to stone—not all at once—and nothing at all will happen to you if I lend you my cloak. Don't fuss over trifles."

  "That's all you know about it," the bursar said. "When I was a young troll, my friends and I used to play Dare Daylight, seeing who could stand the sun longest. Look at my skin, why don't you!" He held out one overlong arm for inspection. It resembled the surface of a badly baked clay pot, all flakes and cracks. "My internal petrification's just this short of fatal. I'm living on quarried time. One more major dose of sunlight will do me in."

  "That wasn't very smart of you."

  "Show me the young creature, troll or human, who doesn't think he's immortal, that the rules don't apply to him," the bursar countered.

  "Looks like you'd best talk fast, then," Zoli suggested.

  The troll scowled at her so hard that rock dust trickled down his nose. "Very well, I'll make it short and sweet. Unlike some retired swordsisters I could mention. This very morn marks the day of Goodwife Eyebright's revenge."

  "Took her long enough. Good for her! How'd she kill him?"

  "Not him. It's not her husband she wants snaggled. Everyone in Overford with half a brain knows that Goodwife Eyebright's greatest grudge stands against her youngest daughter."

  "Half a brain . . . that sums up most of this town," Zoli mused.

  Garth jabbed her to silence with his elbow. "Why would any sane mother resent her own child?" he asked. "And such a bright one, too!"

  "I'll paint you a picture," said the troll. "All that Ethelberthina's ma could ever do with her life was marry and breed. Many a woman's happy keeping house, but only when it was her choice to go that road, not her last resort. Like you, ma'am." He rolled his eyes at Zoli.

  "I see," the former swordsister said. "Goodwife Eyebright had to marry so she wants her daughters to do the same. The thought of Ethelberthina having opportunities she never had riles her."

  "Quite so." The troll nodded. "That's where this Maiden Morn claptrap comes in. You see, there's one bit of the ceremony not too many folk know of: The Answered Prayer."

  "What's that?"

  "It's rather charming, really." A faint smile touched the troll's wide mouth. "If there's a man among the witnesses who's eager to marry the girl, all he needs do to lay claim to her is wait until the very instant she utters the last word of the Prayer for a Prosperous Husband, then dash up and winkle himself under her arm or her cloak or her skirt or something and declare his devotion. He's got to time it just right, because if he misses the last word by three heartbeats, he's out of luck. But if he's nimble and determined . . . poof! Instant betrothal."

  "Impossible. Such nonsense can't be binding."

  "Oh, it is, but only because Duke Janifer's never taken the time to remove the Maiden Morn regulations from the law scrolls. It's such an old-fashioned custom, I doubt he even knows they're still— Uh-oh. What's that?" The bursar's eyes grew great with sudden fear.

  What that was, was the sound of Ethelberthina beginning to recite the Prayer for a Prosperous Husband. Garth gasped. "Sunrise! Quick, Porfirio, toss your cloak over the bursar!"

  "Yes, at once, I—" The wizard reached for the clasp of his cloak. A sickly green came over his face as he realized he hadn't bothered to put one on. Neither had Garth or Zoli.

  "For the love of mica, set me free! I'll run back under the bridge!" the troll bellowed.

  "Of course, of course!" Dean Porfirio hastened to draw his wand once more. Unfortunately, in his agitated state the wizard went all butterfingers. He jerked the wand from his belt, promptly lost hold of it, and watched in horror as it flew off to sink beneath the current of the Iron River.

  "Here, Zoli, we can shift him under the bridge," Garth said. "You take his head, I'll take his feet, and—"

  "Look there!" Zoli wasn't listening. Her eyes were wide, her face pale, her hand shaking as she gestured across the river to where Ethelberthina stood performing the most hangdog recitation imaginable of the Prayer for a Prosperous Husband. The girl's apathy was beyond the power of mortal man to measure. Horse thieves had gone to the gallows with more eagerness, hemorrhoid sufferers had greeted a recurrence of their affliction with more zest. If youthful exuberance had a direct opposite, Ethelberthina Eyebright was its personification.

  In other words, she was putting so much effort into behaving churlishly, just to show her mother what was what, that she failed to notice the scrawny, oily-pelted young man who was slinking down to the water's edge, a look of intense concentration on his sallow face. Only once did he pause and cast a questioning look over one shoulder. A brawny, stern-faced woman in the crowd jerked her chin at him brusquely, silently urging him on.

  "That's Ludlow Pennywhistle," Garth observed.

  "Oh no, it couldn't be." Dean Porfirio shook his head rapidly. "Not even the most vengeance-crazed creature alive would willingly bind her child to a malicious good-for-nothing like Ludlow. He's a beast, a coward, and a scoundrel. I had him in my Introductory Invocation class. We had to expel him for demoralizing the demons. He must be in his twenties by now, and I hear he does nothing with his days but loaf about the taverns until they boot him out for toughing up the barmaids."

  "Maybe Goodwife Eyebright doesn't realize what she's doing to her daughter," Garth offered.

  Bursar Tailings had another opinion: "Maybe she does. She's a Pennywhistle by birth, you know; Ludlow's ma is her second cousin. This way she gets to shackle Ethelberthina with a husband, break her spirit, and keep the girl's money in the family at the same time."

  "But that— that's not to be stood for!" Zoli sputtered. "It's atrocious! It's cruel! It's— it's— it's got to be stopped!" Her hand dropped to her belt and found only belt. "Damn it, Garth, why didn't you remind me to wear my dagger?" she shouted.

  "And risk having you throw it at someone? Darling, I know you too well: In situations like these you tend to over—"

  Across the water, Ethelberthina let the last word of the Prayer for a Prosperous Husband fall from her tongue as though it were a slime-smeared toad. The instant he heard it, Ludlow's lips twisted into a gloating look as he leaped from the riverbank. The girl turned in time to see him but too late to do anything about it, for her cloak was so sodden it weighted her to the spot. Instantly she knew whose hand was behind her plight. She raised her fists to the heavens and wailed in helpless rage, "Motherrr!"

  Zoli threw the troll.

  "—react," said Garth.

  * * *

  Duke Janifer slowly paced the width of the great hall for the twenty-third time. Before him stood a row of plaintiffs, defendants, and witnesses in one of the biggest lawsuit pileups he had ever been called upon to judge. It was all that his men-at-arms could do to hold back the throng that had come to gawk at and gabble over the proceedings. Most of Overford and half of the Academy was there. They filled the hall, overflowed into the passageway beyond, and all but dangled from the rafters.

  "Now let me see if I've got this straight," he said. "You're charging her with assault with a deadly weapon?" He pointed first at Ludlow, then at Zoli. Ludlow nodded and tugged his forelock deferentially. His fingers came away dripping sheep fat.

  "And you are charging her with reckless endangerment of your person?" This was directed at Bursar Tailings.

  "Potentially fatal reckless endangerment," the troll corrected. "That's worse."

  "I should say so. Now you are charging her with creating a disturbance?" He gave Goodwife Eyebright an inquiring look.

  "It was the best I could do, Your Gracious Eminence." Ethelberthina's mother made cow eyes at the duke. "That's what my dear husband told me to do. He said it's the closest we could come to finding a legal term to describe the way that hussy broke up our Ethelberthina's lovely Maiden Morn. I'm just a weak, ignorant woman with very little knowledge of things that don't concern me. I always say we ought to leave law and such confusing stuff to the men who've got the brains for it. Like yourself, Your Unspeakable Wiseness."

  "Of course you are." Duke Janifer was not really listening. He continued to pace the hall. Unlike his forefathers, he never sat upon the intricately carved and gilded Siege of Justice when hearing a case. Some said it was because he was a true friend of the people and disliked setting himself too far above his subjects. Others, including his old nurse Wylalie, said it was because he was a fidget, born with that condition commonly referred to as "shrews in your trews."

  The duke paused in his peregrinations, coming to a halt before Ethelberthina. The girl stood between Ludlow and Bursar Tailings, with a look on her face even stonier than the troll's calcified countenance. "You're a little young to be in court, my dear," Duke Janifer said kindly. "I take it you're a witness in your mother's case?"

  "The Netherrealm I am!" Ethelberthina snapped. Her mother clapped a hand to her bounteous bosom and gasped loudly. "I'm here as a complainant. I wish to file suit against Goodwife Eyebright for Conspiracy to Coerce Matrimony, which you'll find in the Scrolls of Sardor, Volume 23, Section 5, Column B, Paragraph 16, first tried before Duke Merriam the Bizarre in the case of Vila Grubneck vs. Rittana, the Landlord's Beautiful Daughter. Oh, and I also want a divorce."

  Duke Janifer stared at the girl, an unreadable expression on his face. "Er, yes," he said. It was something many grownups found themselves replying to Ethelberthina because they simply could not think of anything else to say.

  "Actually, I believe the correct term is an unfasting, since Bursar Tailings and I have only entered into a state of betrothal rather than an actual marriage. I suppose we could ignore it, but I don't want some silly little legality messing up my life at a future time when I might actually want to wed."

  "Er, yes," said the duke again. "And Bursar Tailings would be—?"

  "Me, Your Grace," said the troll.

  The duke peered at the bursar of Overford Academy as if hoping to thus convert him into something other than a troll. "How old are you, my good fellow?" he finally asked.

  "Two hundred eighty-seven come next Sandpit Day," the troll replied.

  "And the girl is—?"

  "Thirteen!" Ethelberthina stamped her foot. "As if you had to ask! I just had my Maiden Morn, remember? Which is how this whole muddle got started, and it's all her fault." She thrust a finger at her mother. "Oh. And hers." She pointed again, but no one was at the other end of her finger.

  Garth clicked his tongue. "Zoli, my dear," he called into the vast spaces of the duke's great hall. "Come back, please. We can't settle most of these cases without you."

  "Keep your codpiece on, I'm coming." Zoli's voice arose from where she had wandered off to enjoy a long, satisfying, mother-daughter visit with her Lily, the lass who had outshone so many of her male counterparts while at Overford Academy and risen to the enviable post of Duke Janifer's senior resident alchemist. The two ladies were snugged up in a cozy niche below one of the lancet windows, chatting and sharing the contents of a brimming fruit bowl.

  By this time the duke was entirely flustered. "How can one woman be responsible for so much chaos?"

  "I say she practices," said Dean Porfirio. Like Garth, he was in the duke's court solely in the capacity of witness. "But her husband here assures me it's purely a natural talent."

  Something whizzed through the air and hit the wizard at the back of the head, knocking his conical cap off. "My Garth never said any such thing about me," Zoli announced, hefting a second peach. "He knows better." She sauntered back to the ranks of her accusers while Dean Porfirio recovered his hat and plucked bits of fruit out of his hair.

  "Did you disrupt this girl's Maiden Morn?" Janifer quizzed her.

  "Yes," Zoli admitted freely. "You'd've done the same, in the circumstances." She explained the details of Goodwife Eyebright's plot against Ethelberthina.

  The good duke was appalled, but compelled to press on with his examination: "Then you admit to assaulting Ludlow Pennywhistle with the flung body of Bursar Tailings?"

  "Sometimes I don't know my own strength." Zoli giggled. "Sometimes I do."

  "And did you thereby recklessly endanger the life of this troll?"

  "I wouldn't say that. I recked plenty. I knew Ethelberthina wouldn't let him come to harm. She knows what sunlight does to trolls, so she swept her cloak over him the instant he hit the water. None of us had cloaks who claimed we did." She gave the wizard a nasty look.

  "Yes, but when she threw her cloak over him, that betrothed them, according to the laws governing Maiden Morns."

  "What do you want, law or justice? If I hadn't tossed the troll, then by the same laws, she'd be hogtied to that piece of work instead." She nodded at Ludlow. "The troll's a better deal."

  "But it's not legal for trolls and humans to marry!" the duke exclaimed.

  "Well, they're not married; they're only betrothed." Zoli shrugged. "You're the duke; unbetroth them."

  "I don't have that authority."

  "But you do have the authority to bother me with all of these silly lawsuits, don't you?" Zoli challenged. "Is this what we pay our taxes for? Especially Ethelberthina."

  The duke's moustache began to twitch in an unsettling manner. "You . . . pay . . . taxes, child?" he asked the girl.

  "Ever since the Swordsisters' Union bought up most of my stock of Mama Ethina's Elixir of Equality," she replied. "It turns dragon-scale armor so brittle that it shatters on contact with a feather."

  "Nothing can do that to dragon-scale armor!" the duke objected. "That's why the king's men all wear it."

  "Nothing could," Lily said, stepping forward, her alchemist's robes rustling softly over the stones. "But now something can; something Ethelberthina invented, and that's why she's independently wealthy." She patted the girl on one shoulder and added, "It's not turning lead into gold, but close. Fellow alchemist, I salute you."

  "Fellow alchemist, do you have anything that might shatter my stupid betrothal?" Ethelberthina asked.

  Lily smiled. She was a beautiful young woman, with her mother's dark coloring and her father's home-loving nature. When she first entered Duke Janifer's service, many court gossips hissed that he had not hired her for her brains. The whispers stopped when Lily demonstrated that she had also inherited her mother's elementary yet effective way of dealing with rumormongers.

  "As a matter of fact," she said, "I do. And it will settle all of these silly lawsuits besides."

  "Will it?" Duke Janifer gazed at Lily in awe. "Huzzah! Tell us what it is, I beg you!"

  "Nothing fancy; just trial by combat. Oh! To the death. It must be to the death. You can't get anything really settled unless someone dies."

  The hall fell silent, including the spectators.

  The sound of Zoli's sword rasping from its sheath broke the quiet. "Suits me," she said amiably.

  "It would." Bursar Tailings huffed like an overweight dragon. "Me fight a retired swordsister? Might as well ram a chisel through my throat and save time."

  "Do we have to?" Ludlow whined.