"I beg you sir, let her go!" The farmer threw himself to his knees and the child's mother prostrated herself at the feet of the other guard as the children began to wail.

"Turn her loose." Kiara drew her sword, and the crowd parted for her warhorse as she advanced on the guards.

The captain regarded her with a snide grin. "Well, well. A doxy on a horse with a bit of steel. Ought to mind your own business, wench. Of course," he added, "you're welcome to mind mine."

"Turn her loose," Kiara repeated. She moved forward until Wraith stood between the guards and the hapless farmer, and she knew that, despite the guard's taunts, he could not help but notice that her horse was a soldier's mount.

The guardsman drew his sword. "This is none of your business. Be gone."

"I'm making it my business," Kiara replied, hoping the girl had the good sense to run if the opportunity presented itself. "Now turn the girl loose and let us pass."

"All we're doing is making a trade," the guardsman said as he moved forward, his sword raised menacingly. "Now leave, before you get hurt."

"You want trade?" Kiara retorted, "then trade this!" Her sword glinted in the sun as she jerked back on Wraith's reins so hard the horse reared. A hand signal, sent Jae streaking through the sky as Kiara set her horse riding straight for the guards.

Jae dove at the guard holding the child, and his talons raked across the man's face, lifting eight deep streaks of blood. Cursing in pain and anger, the guard dropped his hold on the girl. She scrambled away, and caught her father's hand, running for all she was worth with her family. Kiara sidestepped her horse toward the guards, knowing how imposing Wraith could be and how obvious his training for battle would appear to a military man. The effect was not lost on the soldiers, who stepped back a pace. From behind her, the refugees cheered and pressed forward, waving their staffs and tools in anger.

"Be gone, woman," he ordered gruffly. "This is none of your affair. Ride past, and be thankful we don't clap you in irons for what your hell-spawned dragon did!"

Kiara did not move. "The way I see it, you're outnumbered," she said evenly. "I think you'd best be gone!"

Jae shrieked a warning just as Kiara caught the glint of the dagger out of the corner of her eye. She lurched to one side, deflecting the worst of the dagger's course with her sword, and bit back an oath as the dagger sliced against her shoulder.

The captain drew his sword, expecting an easy win. He was unprepared for the speed of Kiara's strike, or the power with which she wielded her sword. The unwary captain gaped as his sword flew from his hand and landed in the dust. His companion eyed Jae warily as the gyregon circled overhead, screeching menacingly and diving toward the two guards, pulling up just short of making contact with his sharp beak or long talons.

For emphasis, Kiara reared her horse once more, its hooves flailing inches from the captain's head, easily able to crush a man's skull with its heavy iron shoes. Once more, the refugees roared in anger and pressed forward, their staves and hoes no longer waving, but raised as if to strike.

"Whore take you," the captain spat, scrambling to reclaim his sword and holding it lowered in defeat as the two soldiers began to back away. "You'll pay, bitch. I promise you that."

In response, Jae dove full speed at the captain's head. With a cry, the hapless man turned and ran, following his companion. Jae kept up the pursuit, diving and shrieking, until the two soldiers were almost out of sight. Then he flapped contentedly back to Kiara and perched on her shoulder, preening with self-satisfaction.

The refugees thronged around Kiara, exclaiming their thanks and congratulations. Uncomfortably aware that she had lost all hope of traveling unnoticed, she sighed and accepted their thanks quietly, anxious to pass the border without further incident and ride on her way as quickly as possible. As the excited group began to move forward once more, a man threaded his way toward Kiara, and she recognized him as the farmer whom she had rescued.

"Begging your pardon, miss," he said, his tattered cap in hand, "but I'm grateful for what you did back there. We had nothing more to give, but I couldn't have borne to lose Tessa," he said, with a nod to the wide-eyed young girl who followed a pace behind him, looking in awe at Kiara's horse and sword.

"Are you a warrior?" the girl breathed in adulation.

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Kiara found herself smiling. "Not really," she said, letting her cloak cover her scabbard once more. "Where I come from, everyone trains as a fighter, from the time we can hold a sword, so that we never have to suffer from fools like those," she said, with a jerk of her head in the direction the guards had gone.

"We have nothing of value," the farmer said, "but my brother waits for us in the camp just over the border in Principality. Knowing you're high born and all, I've no right to ask, but perhaps you'd share a meal with us, if you be hungry. Sleep well, you could—safe with us— until you're on your way." He smiled self-consciously. "Find a healer for that cut, too," he said, looking toward Kiara's shoulder.

Kiara had almost forgotten the wound until now, but she felt at the ripped cloth, chagrined to find it soaked with blood. Still, not a bad wound, she appraised as she gingerly touched the injury. She had taken worse in practice bouts. But a healer's poultice might still take out the soreness and keep it from going bad.

Kiara smiled at the nervous farmer and his awestruck daughter. "I would be honored to eat with you," she said, and the man brightened in unbelief at his fortune. Shyly, the girl reached out to pet Wraith, shrinking back as the great black horse turned a dark eye to look at her, and then, gaining the courage to gently stroke the horse. "You were very brave back there," Kiara said quietly to the girl, who smiled gratefully and averted her eyes.

"Thank you," the girl said quietly.

"You're welcome," Kiara replied, trying not to wonder how many other young girls the soldiers had encountered, girls who did not have a protector appear out of nowhere.

Kiara worked her way slowly through the throng behind the farmer, who became something of a celebrity. For Kiara, the refugees moved aside with a reverence that made her feel self-conscious, closing behind her with whispered comments about Jae, the warhorse and her sword.

Inwardly, Kiara sighed, torn between her chagrin at making herself so conspicuous, and her knowledge that she could not have sat idle and let the girl be abused. That's what you get for taking yourself so bloody seriously, she thought. Now every bard in Principality will have a new story, and every border guard in Margolan will have a new target. Perhaps, out here, weeks from Margolan's palace, the incident would go unnoticed. Please, she silently beseeched the Goddess. The last thing I need is the Margolan guard on my trail, she thought. Neither she nor the farmer said anything else as the group moved on until they were long past the border and the fires of the refugee camp came into view.

The camp was really a collection of tumbledown lean-tos made from scraps of lumber and tents fashioned from worn blankets. More than fifty fires burned, and Kiara guessed from the bustle around her that each fire easily represented ten to fifteen refugees. The camp smelled of waste and animals, roasting meat and sharp onions. Dogs and pigs ran past her, and only the autumn cold prevented the ground from becoming a fetid pool of mud. She was glad she did not have to experience the smells of the camp in high summer, and was grateful that the steppe flies were dormant for the winter. She sighed as she looked over the makeshift camp. Unless Jared were stopped, and soon, more would experience the misery of the camps, until Jared quelled the flow of refugees or the surrounding nations were forced to close their borders.