Junis raised her sword, her expression merciless. Closing her eyes, Tashi gripped the hilt of her

own blade, determined not to flinch from the blow. She heard Junis grunt as she swung--she

heard the whistle of air--but then a pair of arms clasped her from behind and lifted her sword to

block the

downstroke. The blades clashed together, the Inkar's fierce swipe skidding off to the ground.

"Perhaps your ladyship would prefer to do battle with someone who wants to pit his strength

against hers," Ramil said, pushing Tashi gently behind him.

He levered the blade from her frozen fingers and then tested its weight by twirling it in the air.

Junis glanced at the pale-faced girl who had fallen back to take shelter behind the barrier and

then at the dark-skinned boy who was grinning roguishly at her.

"Hah! You're right! It would be much better sport to

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see what Lagan's boy is made of." She swung at him but Ramil was ready for her, meeting her

stroke with a high defense. Circling round, she probed his guard with a flurry of quick passes. He

defended them swiftly and efficiently.

"I see the Gerfalian sword trainers have not neglected their prince," Junis noted with approval, stepping back.

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"I have much still to learn, my lady," Ramil replied, taking the chance to go on the attack. His opponent was strong and crafty and a match for his height; he would have to use his superior

agility to outwit her if he wanted to win the bout. He dealt her a complex pattern of thrusts and

cuts that kept her backing away, but then a momentary doubt crossed his mind, giving her the

advantage again. Would it be better to lose to ingratiate himself with the old she-warrior? Or

maybe she'd like him better if he won? That certainly suited his mood. He returned to attack,

wielding his sword with fluid skill that would have made his old teachers proud. Junis was forced

onto the back foot and finally disarmed with a twist of Ramil's blade.

"Do you submit to me, and thus to our Father God?" Ramil asked as was the custom on these

courts.

Panting, Junis replied, "I submit. And, by Holin, well fought, young Prince!

You would give my brother a hard time--there's a match I'd like to see."

Ramil bowed. "I would not presume to challenge him, my lady."

Junis lifted her tangled locks off her neck to cool

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down, catching sight of Tashi watching nervously from the sidelines. She pointed her blade at

Prince Ramil. "There, girl, that's real fighting! As for you, pale-faced witch from the western

islands, you disgust me. I do not know why my brother wastes his time on you. Take her away.

Come, Prince, let's go drink to Midwinter cheer."

The high point of the Midwinter holiday was the feast in the banqueting hall.

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Entering the packed chamber, Ramil saw that the walls had been decked with greenery, the

floor covered with fresh rushes, a huge meal prepared by the castle kitchens. Everyone was busy

with the celebrations: this night, Ramil decided, would offer the best hope of escape.

"Young Prince!" called the Inkar from the top table. She was dressed rather incongruously in a rose-pink gown with plunging neckline showing her wrinkled throat and battle-scarred chest.

"Sit by me." She patted the seat beside her. Ramil made his way through the crowds and took

his place.

"Midwinter greetings, my lady," he said.

"Fie upon you!" Junis roared with laughter. "Are they so meek in Gerfal that men and women merely exchange words at Midwinter? In my lands, we are not so bashful." She leant forward

and kissed him heartily on the mouth, then slapped him on the back. "See, that's how we do it."

Ramil repressed the urge to wipe his mouth on the

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back of his sleeve, It had been like being kissed by a camel.

"I ... er ... I am honored." He dragged the words up from somewhere.

"So you should be. I don't make a habit of kissing men. Only a favored few."

He wasn't reassured by this but attempted to change the subject. "More wine, your ladyship?"

He took a gulp of his own glass to remove the taste left in his mouth.

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"Why not? Where in Wrath's name has my brother got to?"

Her query was answered by the appearance of Fergox at the doors to the chamber. The room

fell silent as he moved between the tables to take his place. To Ramil's surprise, Tashi followed

him like his shadow, head down.

Junis groaned. "He's got that poxy milksop in tow. What do you think, Prince Ramil? Has she

bewitched Fergox? I've never known him to make so much fuss about a girl before. Usually weds

them and has them nursing his little warriors before the year's out. But this one--no, he even

cares what's in her head, not just what she looks like. He wants a real conversion from her."

Fergox took his chair and pointed to a spot two paces behind him for his prisoner to stand. He

held up his arms.

"Welcome to our feast. Everyone is invited to share the food on my table tonight: friend and foe, master

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and servant, faithful and heretic, for one night we make no distinction.

Midwinter cheer to you all!" He drained his gold tankard and threw it into the crowd for any

lucky man to catch. A fight broke out between two bare-armed guardsmen vying for the prize,

resulting in one losing his front teeth and being stretchered out. The victor drank his health from

the tankard to the cheers of the onlookers. Fergox roared with laughter and applauded.

Junis tugged his sleeve once he was seated. "Why did you bring her?" She jerked her head at

Tashi who was now sitting on the floor being examined by two friendly dogs.

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"What's it to you, sister? I like her, that's all you need to know." He heaped his plate with red meats. "She's got those lazy priests of mine earning their keep for once. Besides, I want her to

know what she's missing with her obstinacy. She could be here like our young prince, a guest of

honor at high table, not sitting with the animals at my feet."

Ramil's cheeks flushed. He hoped Tashi had not heard. She had her face buried in the silky coat

of a red setter. He thought her choice of company was better than his, snuffles from that snout

far more appealing than kisses from the Inkar.

The entertainers entered with the Midwinter cake. They scattered among the tables, performing

to those who called them over. Ramil was not surprised to see some familiar faces. The acrobats

from Orboyd's circus flip-flopped down the central aisle; Minka perched on

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the benches telling fortunes to fresh-faced soldiers and hopeful girls; Gordoc arm-wrestled with

all challengers and bent iron bars on demand, making short work of the thickest metal.

Ramil used the distraction provided by the circus folk to leave his place and crouch down beside

Tashi.

"Midwinter cheer, Princess," he said softly.

She looked up to return the wish but found she couldn't. Instead, she shook her head.

He shifted one of the dogs to sit down. "At home, we celebrate with a hunt in the forest,

followed by storytelling and songs in the hall. I tell my good jokes and everyone laughs. My

father tells his bad jokes and everyone still laughs.

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Privilege of being king, I suppose."

He saw a smile flicker on her lips, then fade. Encouraged, he continued.

"My sister gets really excited about the presents. Did you meet her? She's like me but well