Lisah looked down at the body of Lhestuh Theros where it lay sprawled on the ground, moonlight washing it to a purity it had never had in life, and felt somewhat shaken. She and her brothers had laughed at Lhestuh’s attempted pursuit of her, never dreaming that the fool would go to such lengths to remove other suitors from his path. She truly should have departed the city a good deal sooner, to avoid a happening such as that if for no other reason. Had any of her father’s guests been harmed because of the attack, the fault would have been hers.
The girl silently bespoke White Feet, and the mare backed from the press of men and horses, then the two quietly paced back to the place Lisah’s gear had been left. White Feet’s thoughts were a satisfied swirl of battle pleasure and high interest in the war stallions she had fought beside, but Lisah was more concerned with wiping her blade on her leather-covered thigh as best she could before sheathing it. As she halted before her bundles and dismounted her thoughts were already taking her up the road to her earlier-chosen destination, the place where her company was gathering, a destination suddenly centered about with worry. She had been considering it a haven and an opportunity not to be equaled, but would it instead become a nightmare?
White Feet’s soft nose nuzzled her hands as she stood in the moonlit dark, staring down at gear her eyes failed to see. She knew it was more than time she left her father’s city, Lhestuh’s nauseating attempt enough to convince her of that had she needed convincing, but the attack had brought her another, brand-new thought to consider. Captain Fredrix had been so achingly heart-sick to be leader of and a part of another company that he hadn’t balked long over allowing her to join the one she had proposed to fund, but her brother Dharrehn’s words now rose up in her mind to cloud her joyful confidence.
My company would soon be decimated, were I to allow you to join us, he had said, and that before any commission was accepted. And in no manner have you been deprived, Lisah.
Would such a thing occur in her company, the one she had so long dreamed about? Would there be those like Lhestuh, willing to go to any lengths to possess her? Returning to the city was out of the question, but if she could not join the Crimson Cat Company, where, then, would she go? Was there no place in all that world she might call home?
“You should not have ridden off so quickly, Lisah,” a voice came from behind her, calm and even. “We have not yet had opportunity to thank you for your assistance.”
The girl turned to see Sir Bryahn Dunkahn astride his war stallion, both pairs of eyes resting on her with interest. A third, yellow pair regarded her from beside the stallion, a long red tongue leaving off its paw-cleaning for the purpose. Lisah felt the chuckling in the mind of Wind Whisper, but as the prairiecat made no attempt to bespeak her, she also remained silent. Her eyes returned, instead, to the Dunkahn heir, but found that the man now looked on the bundles behind her, the odd smile on his face saying that he knew what lay wrapped in them. With helm already doffed he had no more to do than dismount, and then he stood facing her.
“The reason for your being abroad at this hour of the night is no longer a mystery,” he said, removing his gauntlets as he looked down at her. “As you so clearly prefer riding off to wedding me, I wonder that you took the time and trouble to aid us.”
“You happen to be my father’s guests,” the girl returned stiffly, finding herself growing annoyed at the easiness of the man’s manner. Would that all men responded to her as this one; she would then find it possible to ride with her company till she was gray and bent. “No matter my own feelings and opinions, assisting the guests of my father is a duty. To behave differently would be dishonorable.”
“Ah, I see,” he said, nodding with the same odd lightness behind his sobriety. “To have failed to assist us would have been dishonorable, but disobeying your father’s wishes is not. The matter is now clear to me.”
“1 scarcely disobey my father’s true wishes,” Lisah replied as haughtily as she might, praying to Sun and Wind that the blush hot on her cheeks might not be visible to the awful man who continued to regard her. “When he returns to his senses he will find it again possible to admit that one may not withdraw one’s word with honor, and that duty must be attended to even if unpalatable. ! now do no more than honor my word and attend to duty.”
The girl began to turn from him then, intending to retrieve her gear and replace it on her mare, but a big hand came to her arm, halting her.
“You speak of honor and duty as though well familiar with them, girl, yet does your understanding of the two seem rather flimsy to me,” Sir Bryahn said, the lightness gone from him, his voice filled more with steel. “Should it be your wish to run petulantly from your true duty like some spoiled, pouting child, you may do so, but you may not tarnish the word ‘honor’ by linking it to such an act. There is no slightest trace of honor or duty in what you do.”
“How dare you!” Lisah hissed, her right palm aching to be clapped to her hilt. Had the swine been other than her father’s guest she would surely have drawn on him, and that despite the plate he wore. His helm had been left behind on his kak, the doing of a fool if ever there was one. One of her arms masters had taught her a ploy . . .
“I dare quite easily,” the beast returned, folding metaled arms across metaled chest. “Have you never been taught that a child’s first duty is to its sire and family, not to its own desires? From what I have already learned of your father, I would strongly doubt that the omission was his. Think you are alone in wishing to do one thing, while needing to do another? We all of us do as we must, and therein lies true honor.”
"Your words make as much sense as the cawing of a crow,” the girl pronounced, hoping to push the man into drawing on her instead. “I most certainly am aware of my duty to my family and my father, which is one reason why I ride from here as I do. Had my father been in his right senses, never would he have spoken to me as he did, insisting that 1 withdraw an already-given word. It was he I learned the meaning of honor from, and none of this ‘he is male, you are female’ foolishness. Honor is the same for all.”
“Indeed it is,” Sir Bryahn allowed, nodding carefully. “It is, however, not seen the same by all, most especially not by one who lacks full knowledge. All Kindred family members know that a daughter must wed at her father’s direction, the while a son need not do the same. Our combined escort numbers a full two hundred men, girl, a large number of them Kindred. Should you doubt my word, you may put the question to each and every one of them.”
Lisah stood wordless at this revelation, having no need to do as Bryahn had suggested. The man’s mind was just then fully open to her as it had not previously been, and the truth in his words shone forth from his thoughts as the moon shone forth from the sky. In no manner was it a lie he spoke, and she abruptly felt that to have been chopped with his sword would have been far kinder.
“But—then—my having left would be no other thing than dishonorable,” she whispered, raising one hand to her whirling head. “And yet, what else is one to do when faced with such—injustice? How does one find an honorable course in such a morass, even should there be one? And how very unlikely it is that there is one; honor, in all probability, will prove to be no more than illusion.”
The tormented girl turned to bury her fists and face in the mane of her mare, bitter disappointment and the pain of incomprehension slicing her from within. Ail things she had ever been taught were now suspect, for how many other hidden snares might there be among them? Freedom was not freedom and words might be broken at will, and each time her father had told her that she was the most precious of all his get, he had surely lied. She was the least precious of all, for she was female, unfit, even, to have the full truth spoken to her.