The Three Sisters. Rebecca Locksley
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back on her heels savouring the peace and wondering where Marigoth was. Yani hoped she had found somewhere warm to spend the night. It had gone to Yani's heart not to ask for an extra bowl of hot soup for her, but she had been unwilling to do so in front of the Mirayan. She looked around now to see if Marigoth was about and saw instead Duprey standing nearby, watching her.
His dark-eyed gaze made Yani's spine tingle with excitement. Duprey drew her. He was attractive with his lean, hard body and face. She liked a lively man who could tell good stories. But there was more than that. He was mysterious and he held part of himself back, watching and secretive. She did not find him threatening, but she was certain he could be dangerous if pushed. Though he limped badly, she suspected he could give a good account of himself in a fight. Not just in a fight. She felt a certain longing to feel his hard, brown hands smoothing across her bare skin. The sexual opportunities open to her as the queen's champion had been considerable - from the royal masseurs who had offered her 'extra' services to energetic fellow officers and adventurous townsmen who enjoyed 'grappling' with a strong woman. You have become spoilt, she had told herself last night as she lay on her pile of straw, regretting that she was playing the part of a man. A few weeks of celibacy wouldn't hurt.
'Good morning,' Duprey said. 'Is your worship now over? Arlette has brought us some bread and cheese.'
'Yes, I have finished,' she said. 'Please. Sit down.' She spread out the cloak she was kneeling on. He sat down beside her and passed her some bread and cheese. 'Is Ezratah…?'
'The Mirayan still sleeps,' said the Seagani. 'Will you be continuing to travel with him?'
'I'm not sure,' she said. She smiled. 'He is not a very harmonious fellow, is he?'
'It is odd to see one of the Guardians travelling with one of the Gibadgee,' Duprey said. His face was difficult to read. Yani found this tantalizing.
'The Gibadgee? Seagani for rubbish, isn't it? I am tempted to leave without him, but a Mirayan companion might be useful. Last night I started trouble without meaning to.'
Duprey's face lightened. 'Still, you really cut those men's harvests. But I've seen you fight before. In Dania.'
'Oh!' Yani said. For a moment she was taken aback, then threw back her head and laughed. He knew who she was after all. The sudden revelation filled her with the same admiration and excitement as skilled swordplay.
Duprey smiled wryly. 'Did you think you had fooled me? You might have, but I had the advantage of recognising you. You are a mighty fighter. It was that fight with Becktalan the Ogian.'
'Ah yes! What a fight that was. We were well matched that day.' She smiled, remembering the smell of dust and sweat and the roar of the crowd when she had won.
'It was a poetry of swords and movement. For all your strength, you fight with a woman's grace.'
'Flatterer!' grinned Yani. An idea struck her. 'But if my sex is so obvious perhaps I should not try to ape the man. This padding and binding - it's hot gear for summer.'
'No, no,' cried Duprey. 'You are very wise to pretend to be a man around the Mirayans. They have a very troublesome view of women. They would not let you fight at St Stefan's for a start. It is a blasphemy for a woman to be on the field.'
'Blasphemy? Is St Stefan's a religious festival, then?
'Yes. He is the special holy man for soldiers. Lord - er - Lady Yani, I think you must be very careful not to let Mirayans know your sex. They are not to be trusted with native women.'
Yani's attraction to Duprey suddenly vanished. She had agreed with this masquerade as much to prevent this kind of protective interference as to avoid the attentions of attackers.
'I can look after myself,' she said.
'I do not doubt it,' Duprey said seriously. 'But against a mage? Be careful. Mirayans regard peninsula women as prostitutes because they go around freely with their hair uncovered. Great Stallion knows what they will think of one who goes around dressed as a man.'
This conversation was turning sleazy and irritating. Did this fellow think she was hopeless? And were his motives so pure? In her experience, Mirayans were not the only people who got strange ideas about a woman who fought.
'Perhaps you should travel with us and protect me,' said she cynically.
'I must wait here for friends. But you are welcome… ' He caught the look in Yani's eye and flushed.
'Forgive me,' he said coldly. 'It was an honestly meant warning.' He stood up and turned to leave. Yani sprang up from her place, instantly regretting her words.
'I have been rude,' she said.
'Not at all,' he replied stiffly.
'I can take care of myself,' Yani said. 'But it was very good of you to warn me and I shall take proper heed.'
'You would be wise to,' he said shortly. 'For myself, I will keep your secret. I've no wish to further offend a Guardian.'
He went back into the barn. Yani felt bad and she made to follow him, wondering what she could say to smooth things over. She was interrupted by Marigoth, who came rushing out with Yani's pack on her back.
'The Mirayan is awake,' she hissed. 'Quick, let's get going.'
Perhaps they would be wise to ditch this Mirayan and this was the opportunity to do so. With a look of regret Yani shouldered her pack. She disliked being on bad terms with people, especially if it was her fault, but it was stupid to care what people thought. The deed was done now and did not look easy to undo.
* * *
Ezratah awoke in the loft. He had passed a disturbed night and, in the way of such things, had then fallen heavily asleep the moment dawn had broken. As he opened his eyes he saw a little girl kneeling by his pack, tracing the runes on his mage's staff with one slender finger. It was moment or two before he was awake enough to realise that this child was interfering with his things.
'Hey!' he cried, sitting up. The girl leapt to her feet, shot a cheeky grin at him and swung down the loft ladder before he was even out of his blanket. He made it to the edge of the loft just in time to see her laughing figure slip through the doorway. He snorted. Cheeky kid. He took a drink from his water bottle and pulled on his jacket. Why hadn't the wardings warned him she was there? Probably because she wasn't an enemy. It was too early in the morning to wrestle with such questions.
'There is food here,' a voice said. The native man, Duprey, had come limping in. He pointed to a plate of bread and cheese that was sitting on the table.
'Thank you,' Ezratah said. He climbed slowly down the ladder, sat down at the table, took some bread and cheese and poured himself a cup of the remarkably fine ale the Seagani made. The man started grooming a little native horse. The two of them talked in a desultory way about the weather. The native was polite and friendly this morning. Perhaps he had learnt a lesson last night. Outside he could see a middle-aged Seagani woman throwing scraps to hens.
'Where's Yani?' he asked Duprey.
'Out front praying, Highness.'
Not a thing to interrupt, Ezratah thought sleepily. He was happy to sit and eat. 'So tell me about the Tari,' he asked. 'Where is this holy land of theirs?'
'Ermora is at the top of a range of mountains in the heart of the peninsula. My people call them the Gen Mountains. They are very steep and heavily forested. Very few outsiders have ever been there, but I was once at a border town close by. A place called Penterong, where they run a healing hospice. They are masters of such gentle arts; a loving people who have showed me much kindness - though they are powerful and should always be treated with respect.'
'If they are so powerful why do they not rule?' Ezratah said.
'It is not their way,' Duprey said.
'It is everyone's way,' Ezratah said.
Duprey shrugged. 'Then I do not know the answer, Highness.'
'How is it I have never heard of these