With all the people crowded into it, Castle Ranit quickly ran short of hot water for baths. Some Lords were able to bribe a bucket or two loose from the cooks. Blade had no money, and no one was willing to accept his promises to pay. Everyone seemed to expect this would be his last night on earth. He would have gone unbathed and travel-stained to the feast if Lord Gennar hadn't shared his own water.

When Blade stepped into the hall for the feast, he was dressed and looked as much a Lord as anyone else in the hall. He had shed his blue shorts and sandals; the former were starting to chafe, and the latter were inappropriate with the hose and tunic he wore. But he still wore the silver loinguard underneath his Lord's attire. Leighton and J would fume if he didn't return home with that. He found the air heavy with the odor of roast meat, candle wax, wood smoke, unwashed humanity, and heavy perfume. Everywhere, Lords drifted back and forth, most of them holding pewter plates of food and horn mugs, many of them with Feathered Ones perched on their shoulders. Along the walls Blade saw servants running back and forth, with barrels of ale and wine, haunches of smoking meat, and loaves of bread so long it took two men to carry them. In addition to the Lords and servants, Blade counted a number of young women, who seemed mostly concerned with staying out of the Lords' way. Their gowns were either short and cut low, or else long and nearly transparent. Unlike most of the Lords, they were all scrubbed clean. If they hadn't been so blank-faced, they'd have been quite decorative.

Everyone except the girls were trying to talk or even shout at once. The squeaking and chattering of the feather-monkeys, the clatter of knives on pewter, and the raw noise of someone vomiting in a corner added to the din. Blade felt like pulling out his knife and silencing a few of the loudest shouters. Instead he elbowed his way through the crowd until he could reach out and snatch a plate of meat from a passing servant. The Lord who'd been supposed to get the plate swore and glared at him, then seemed to remember that this was the man foolish enough to be fighting Orric tomorrow.

«Enjoy your last meal!» he snarled.

«I'll enjoy it anyway,» replied Blade, saluting with his knife before sticking it into the largest chunk of meat. It tasted surprisingly good-a cross between beef and pork, with strong but attractive seasoning. He started looking for a quiet corner to eat his dinner, but didn't expect to find one, since the only spot in the hall free of the general uproar was the Duke's corner.

Cyron was sitting at a small table, flanked by a young man in embroidered robes like his own and another figure wearing a hood. All three had silver plates and cups in front of them. Behind them stood Alsin, wearing full armor except for the helmet. On either side of him was a similarly armored Lord, each carrying a short throwing spear. Behind Alsin and his guards was the stone wall. No one could get within twenty feet of the table without being seen by someone there.

Blade was about ready to leave the hall when he saw Alsin waving at him. He put down his empty plate, straightened his borrowed hose and tunic as well as he could, and walked over.

He was barely down on one knee before Cyron lifted him and offered a cup of wine. It was strong and so sour that he nearly gagged on it, but managed to get it down. «Lord Chenosh, the Lord Blade, who has come among us from a distant land and will fight Orric tomorrow. Lord Blade, Lord Chenosh, son of my son and heir to the Duchy of Nainan.»

«I am honored,» said Blade. The Duke's teenage grandson rose and held out a long-fingered hand to him. Blade noticed it was his left hand. His right hand was held low and concealed in a mitten of black chain mail.

«I hope you live long enough to enjoy that honor,» said Chenosh. «It is ill done, that you must-«The Duke's clearing his throat sounded like a shotgun blast. Chenosh frowned but also fell silent.

«There is no reason I should fear the fight with Orric,» said Blade. «Unless his not being here tonight means he is plotting some treachery? I have not seen him, and I should think he is rather hard not to see.»

«I should say-so much the better if he is planning some treachery,» said the hooded figure in a high, firm voice. «Then he will no longer be a lawful Lord.» Two petite, long-fingered hands reached up and threw the hood back. Blade found himself staring at a small round face framed in shimmering red hair, with immense green eyes, a freckled snub nose, full red lips…. He forced his own eyes to look elsewhere before he violated good manners by staring at the beautiful young woman.

«There might be two opinions on that, my lady,» he said. «One of them is yours, the other is mine. If Orric plans treachery, I am its most likely victim. I will get no benefit from Orric's ceasing to be a Lord if I am dead.»

Marshal Alsin looked indignant, the Duke's face was a mask, and Chenosh was obviously trying not to laugh. The silence allowed the girl to reply. «I admit your correction, Lord Blade. I did not think how this matter might seem to you.»

«I forgive you,» said Blade with a grin, which made Alsin look even more indignant. «Come,» said Chenosh. «This will never do. Lord Blade, the Lady Miera, my sister.»

«Again, I am honored.» Blade saw that both Alsin and the Duke wanted to speak but were held back by his presence. He suspected an old family quarrel, one not to be aired in front of strangers. «But I think I see Lord Gennar wanting to speak to me. With Your Grace's leave…?»

«Certainly. The evening is yet young.»

Lord Gennar was nowhere in sight, but he'd saved everyone embarrassment. As Blade turned to go he saw the Duke vigorously pulling the hood back over Miera's head. He still felt her green eyes following him as he plunged back into the crowd.

Blade hardly enjoyed the rest of the feast. The air grew even hotter and thicker with smells, and the wine was too sweet when it wasn't too sour. As the Lords drank the wine and the beer, their behavior became coarse. Blade saw them tripping servants with platters of food or pouring jugs of beer over their heads. Some Lords dragged serving girls off into dark halls. One Lord shoved a girl facedown into a puddle of grease and meat scraps when she seemed reluctant to go with him. Blade was about to intervene when another Lord came over and tried to claim the girl for his own. For a minute it seemed there was going to be a fight, and most of the people in the hall appeared to be looking forward to the prospect. Then the Duke came over and forced the two Lords to settle the matter by a duel between their Feathered Ones.

Everybody cleared a space for the monkeys, making the crowding in the rest of the hall even worse than before. Blade managed to save his ribs only by pushing back every time someone pushed him. He saw two of the girls in the scanty gowns faint but stay on their feet, held up by the sheer press of bodies.

The two Feathered Ones fought with blunted daggers, but the heat and the wildly cheering crowd put them in a frenzy. They leaped around, stabbing and slashing at each other hard enough to draw blood even with blunted steel. By the time the fight was over, the loser could barely stand. Its master promptly kicked it against the wall hard enough to break its back. It slid down to the floor and lay there, squeaking pitifully. The winner's master put his arm around the girl's waist and led her off: At least he was the Lord who'd wanted to rescue her, not the one who'd pushed her into the grease!

Everyone immediately started discussing the fine points of the fight, ignoring the dying monkey. Again Blade was about to intervene when somebody else did so first. This time it was Miera, who pushed through the crowd with Alsin in hot pursuit, bent down, and cut the monkey's throat with her eating knife. Then Alsin was upon her, his hands hovering within inches of her shoulders. Obviously he would have liked to drag her off or at least read her a lecture, but she was his overlord's kin. Rage and frustration fought on his face, until the Duke himself arrived and sent Miera out of the hall.