?You?re really angry, aren?t you, Mum.? Catching his breath and lowering his guard, Javan attempted a rakish grin at his somber sparring partner, a tall woman with crimson eyes and white-gold hair bound in a braid. In response to his observation, Alysia snarled almost silently, switching her knife from her left hand to her right, watching him. Her face was a mask of cold fury.

He mentally shrugged and closed again. Javan turned, reversing his blade and feinting an elbow strike toward her face to cover a seemingly haphazard stab toward Alysia?s middle. He managed a pinprick against her armor before her left arm came down hard against his forearm, numbing from his elbow to his fingertips. The edge of Alysia?s knife sliced neatly through the padded leather protecting Javan?s ribs. A fragment of leather fell away.

?Ah... hm.? He glanced up at her, Master of Assassins to High Priestess, disengaged and stepped back, offering a respectful bow. Blood beaded where she?d marked his side, scabbed and healed. He made a show of adjusting a gauntlet, looking at her keenly as she fought down a wave of bloodlust.

Polite applause sounded around the small courtyard. In observance were a few family members, those who cared to linger after a late council meeting had abruptly given way to an explosion of Alysia?s waspish temper. Further discussion of how to deal with the rebellious K?Thayne province had only worsened matters. It had been Javan?s suggestion to allow the High Priestess to vent her frustration in a friendly duel. A few hours had passed since they?d started, and the sun was now lingering just below the eastern horizon. They were both fatigued and coated with a pinkish sheen of blood-tinged sweat.

?You were careless!? Alysia snapped. ?Get your guard back up, Javan. We?re not done.?

?No, I am done for now, or I will be careless. Your skill is greater, Alys, and it?s getting close to dawn.? Anticipating his request, Lledrith threw Javan a towel and a wry smile. He examined the blade of his knife and returned it to its sheath, then wiped sweat off his face. His next words to Alysia were muffled. ?If you?d used your soulsword, I?d be dead, Mum. I?m much more useful to you alive.?

In a fit of pique, she threw the knife toward Javan. He didn?t move, and it sunk into the dirt an inch away from his foot. He calmly retrieved the knife and began cleaning it.

Javan murmured, ?Save your anger for those who deserve it.?

Those who deserve it. . . Alysia looked down, vision blurring in a sudden surge of emotion. Anger, rage, grief, guilt, sadness, fear. As if I knew.

Lledrith, one of those who had watched the knife fight, commented tactfully that she was going inside to find something to drink and a quiet place to sleep. Llillith and the two apprentice bloodsingers were already moving away from the rising sun, seeking the darkened interior of the fortress. The demonmage, Dar?, remained in the arch formed by the open doors.


?Go.? Without really looking at him, Alysia nodded at the silver-haired demonmage who lingered. Her words were precisely controlled. ?These decisions are all ultimately mine, anyway.?

Dar? frowned and retreated inside. Lledrith followed him.

?So,? began Javan, ?No distractions now. I know you?re not that concerned about how we?re dealing with K?Thayne. You want to talk about what?s really bothering you??

Yes. That?s the problem." Alysia reluctantly agreed with a bitter smile. "And I?m sure you know Lucky?s gone."

"Heard something about that, yes." Javan nodded, withdrawing further into the shadows cast by the fig tree. He handed Alysia her knife and started to unstrap his gauntlets. While the faint glimmer of sunlight against his skin was only a mild irritation, he would rather have avoided it altogether. "And I figured you might be concerned about it. Are you certain Ser Mallorek is dead?"

"Who can be certain of anything," retorted Alysia, "particularly when it comes to death? Seems like I?d have known, but I?m not so sure of that anymore. It may be very telling that I?m unsure. Maybe he just went to sea." She wrapped her arms around her leather-clad knees, hugging them to her chest and recalling Guthorm?s reservations. "That explosion. . . no human could have survived that."

"There are many people looking for him who haven?t come up with a damned thing," Javan carefully suggested, tactfully tip-toeing around the implications of her words. "But my little street rats will find something, if there is anything to be found, Mum. You know that."

Alysia wistfully echoed, "I know that. Human children are such fragile things, though... don?t want to see them hurt."

"Humans are, yeah. Remember, the street rats aren?t all human. And they?re all blood-bonded to you, so they?re tougher than they look. And they did uncover some leads about who might be responsible for the explosion." A note of gentle caution entered his voice. "From what they pieced together, I don?t think it?s a good idea to get involved. If you go looking for a fight with those people, you might end up in over your head."

"Doubting my ability, Javan?" She didn?t look at her adopted son. Her smile was cold.

"Just your focus. We can?t afford you to go off on some idealistic crusade of vengeance right now. It?s too bad DETH isn?t around." The vampiric were-rat studied Alysia for a while, squinting against the glare of the rising sun.

"My mother was in DETH. So was my uncle Erik, for that matter." The crimson-eyed woman glanced at Javan, showing the points of her fangs. She wasn?t smiling. "Vengeance might be considered the family business."

"It was Dark Enforcers To Hire, and you?ve never been a mercenary, Mum. I think you?re worried about that old man, too. The death knight. Ayreg."