Dragon Blood (Hurog #2)(20)

Tisala continued, "One of the men at the inn where I stayed was an actor; he got me the part. I wear a mask, and the theater's in a district not overrun with nobles anyway."

Stala nodded her understanding. "Ward told me that you can use a sword - high praise. Can you use a staff as well?"

Tisala shook her head. "Not right now. This staff's too long, but I suspect my left hand's not up to it even with one the right size."

Stala examined the hand in question, turning it this way and that.

"The sooner you start pushing it, the sooner it'll recover," she said at last, returning Tisala's hand. "I think we can find a better fit for you than Ward's weapon. That boy could use a tree trunk. The Guard is working with staff today in the bailey. I've a Seaforder, several Tallvens, and a few Avinhellish men, but we've not had an Oranstonian here in my memory. It would do the men good to see the difference between Oranstone style and ours."

Tisala felt a real smile spread over her face. It had been so long since she'd been in a sparring match with trained men. "Fine."

Staff fighting gave way to the sword over the next few days, then hand-to-hand and bow.

Tisala was in her element as she'd never been. Here the men weren't afraid to lay into her just because she was a woman. There were better fighters among the Guard, but she was far from the worst, and Stala taught her a few tricks. What lingering weakness she felt began to fade hour by hour. When she put her head down to sleep, exhaustion gave her dreamless rest instead of the nightmares she'd been plagued with since she left her torturer dead in Estian.

By the end of the morning workout, three days after Ward had left, she felt well enough that she decided to set out for Estian that afternoon on her own rather than wait for Lord Duraugh.

While Tisala wiped off sweat and exchanged friendly insults with the Seaforder she'd been sparring with, she decided what she'd need to ask Stala for: a horse, supplies, and money for bribes.

The sound of a horn's staccato blast from beyond the newly repaired gate brought everything to a standstill.

"Lord Duraugh," said Stala. "It's about time."

Stala put her fingers to her lips and blew a sharp whistle that was answered by a horn. At that sound the men guarding the gates scrambled to open them. A second whistle had the Blue Guard in formal formation. Tisala stepped in beside Stala and watched Ward's uncle ride through the gates with half a hundred men, including Tosten and Beckram.

Their horses were stumbling tired, and Stala sent a group of her guards to help the grooms with the animals.

Ward's uncle was a big man, too, though not so extraordinarily large as Ward. The Hurog blood was easy to see in the shape of his face and his coloring. Like Tosten and Oreg, his eyes were a luminous blue very close to being purple. They swept over the men in the bailey, touched briefly on Tisala, then settled on Stala.

He dismounted and yielded his gelding to a groom without comment. "The king's men are close on our heels. I dared not take too many men from Iftahar - Ciarra is due to give birth to my grandchild any day. Without us there to bargain with, like as not they'll leave her be, but I needed to give her a force to fight with if the king decides he really needs all the Hurogs, rather than just the men in Estian."

Stala frowned. "What do you mean, all the Hurogs? And why are the king's men chasing you?"

Beckram answered her, "The day before Tosten reached us, I had word from a friend that the king was going to summon us all to him. Tosten told us that the king has already taken Ward."

Tisala, standing unnoticed behind Stala, had forgotten how effective a weapon Ward's cousin had in his voice and face. The rich baritone caused a pleasing flutter of her heart, and his face combined the best of Hurog features with unusual golden skin tones and reddish hair. Unlike Ward, Beckram was very handsome - she'd heard somewhere that he'd married Ward's sister.

"We decided to lead them away from Ciarra and find out if Hurog were still safe, before we let them catch up with us," said Duraugh. "Have you had any word from Oreg?"

Stala nodded, though Tisala hadn't seen any messengers come or go, nor any sign of a carrier pigeon coop. Maybe, being a wizard, Oreg had other means of communication - although her father's wizard had not.

"He says they're two days out of Estian. Ward is fine. Oreg says he's already won over the general, though none of them, possibly with the exception of Garranon, have a clue what they're dealing with."

"He's not trying his stupid act again?" exclaimed Beckram.

Stala rolled her eyes. "Of course not, but you know how he is. Even without the act most people think he's not too swift."

"It's the eyes," added Tisala, deciding it was time to make her presence felt. "They're lovely, but not the eyes of a clever man."

Tosten grinned at her under his dirt. "Nope, it's that it takes him so bleeding long to say anything. Uncle Duraugh, Beckram, allow me to introduce Ward's warrior-maid and Haverness's daughter, Tisala. Tisala, you already met Beckram, though you might have forgotten." His tone made it clear that he was well aware that no woman, having once met his cousin, would ever forget him. "And this is my uncle, Lord Duraugh. Though he's Shavig to look at, he holds his estate in Tallven, which gives the king's chamberlain ever so much trouble at formal dinners - does he sit with the Tallvens or the Shavigmen?"