«That is open defiance of my grandfather. I do not think we have seen the last of Orric's work today. He is the sort of man who will go on biting, like a dead snake.»

Blade wasn't paying any attention to the boy. Miera was stepping forward, her face even paler than before and her mouth working. Both her grandfather and Alsin were watching her, but neither of them made a move to stop her. For a moment Blade thought she was going to walk all the way into his arms, but she had more sense. She stopped just out of reach, threw back her head, and smiled. The smile was the most amazing combination of total innocence and complete sensuality he'd ever seen on a woman's face.

Then he couldn't see anything except a sea of heads, hats, and helmets, as a dozen Lords rushed to him and lifted him on their shoulders. All around, people were shouting his name, and as his bearers carried him toward the hall, the people in the windows above began to throw scarves and flowers.

Blade could have spent the next few weeks going to one feast after another, being fed and wined and plied with women and praise. Defeating Orric made him for the moment the most popular man in the Duchy of Nainan, except among Orric's allies. These were lying low for the moment, although Duke Cyron, Marshal Alsin, and Blade were all sure they would be heard from again.

Meanwhile, Blade found many ways of spending his time.

There was giving Lord Chenosh fencing lessons.

It was an unusually cool morning for early summer along the Crimson River, and the gray sky promised rain later in the day. Blade and Chenosh rode out to the practice field. Not for the first time, Blade noticed how well the youth handled his horse with only one good hand.

Blade also remembered Chenosh's words the first time he praised the young Lord for his skill in riding.

«It seemed to me that because I could not fight I had to do everything else better than anyone else. I do not know if I could have done this if my father had lived. He always felt that a crippled son and a proud daughter who'd killed her mother in being born were a sign of the Fathers' anger. He showed us the bitterness he could not show toward the Fathers:

«Fortunately, he died when Miera and I were young enough for my grandfather to heal some of the wounds. My grandfather thinks his son's death was bad luck, but I do not. When I come to rule Nainan, I will be very young, but I will be a better Duke than I would have been if I'd endured my father for another twenty years.»

They dismounted where their previous fencing bouts had already worn the grass away and packed the earth hard. They went through their warming-up exercises, then pulled on mail coats and the special fencing helmets with visors. Blade didn't expect these new helmets to become popular for war in a Dimension without archery. All he wanted was to keep himself or Chenosh from accidentally losing an eye.

They spent an hour doing exercises, then rested and talked. After that they fought three free-style matches. As usual Blade won all three, but his margin of victory was shrinking steadily.

«You're going to score your first victory before long,» he told Chenosh when they were wiping off the sweat afterward. «My longer reach already does as much for me as my skill.»

Chenosh frowned. «You mean that?»

«I haven't any reason to flatter you, Chenosh. So don't bristle as if I was one of your grandfather's courtiers. How long do you think I would live if you got yourself killed by believing my false praise? I value my own skin as much as any honorable Lord can do!»

Chenosh laughed. «Blade, I am beginning to believe that you are really as honest as you say you are.» The pleasure left his face. «I wish-I wish my father had been like you, Blade. If he had been, both Miera and I…»

Blade found himself unable to look an eighteen-year-old boy in the face. It struck him that if he'd led a more normal life in Home Dimension, he might by now very well have a son not much younger than Chenosh. He'd fathered children in a good many Dimensions and even knew the fate of one of them-Rikard, who might still be ruling the land called Tharn. None of this was quite the same as being able to raise, teach, and send out into the world a child of his own.

«Well,» he said. «The Fathers send each of us where they will. The only thing we can do is the best we can wherever they send us. You've certainly lived your life that way, and I've tried to do the same. Perhaps that's what draws us together.»

«Perhaps,» said Chenosh. Then, seeing Blade's embarrassment, he changed the subject. If he was going to fight without a shield or with only a small one, what about special armor for his right arm? A piece of heavy plate extending from the elbow down to the wrist would make it harder for an opponent to draw blood. It would also balance the sword in his left hand, and perhaps even let him use his right arm as a weapon. The arm itself was sound enough; it was only the hand which was crippled.

By the time they'd mounted their horses and were riding back to Castle Ranit, Blade was so interested in this new subject that he'd forgotten the embarrassing moment in the field.

Then there were dinners with Miera.

Sometimes Chenosh joined his sister, sometimes there was only the girl herself with her nurse as chaperone.

It was after dinner one evening, and they were nibbling salted nuts and drinking beer. Wine was the more lordly drink, but Miera preferred beer. They talked of the day's news and events.

«What have you heard about the Captain of the Duke's Guard?» asked Miera.

«Only the same thing everyone's heard. He fell from his horse last night and smashed one leg so badly he may never walk right again.»

«Have you heard that he was drunk?»

«Are you telling me or asking me?» replied Blade, with a grin. He enjoyed these verbal games with Miera, even though he knew they were considered highly improper for an unmarried woman. However, Miera didn't care a fig for propriety, and for once her grandfather and Marshal Alsin seemed willing to let her have her own way.

«Asking,» she said. «By all the stories I've heard he was a fine rider, too good to fall unless he was drunk.»

«I haven't heard that he was drunk, either,» said Blade cautiously. He was aware of the nurse at the other end of the table, well within hearing. He was also aware of his desire to go on treating Miera like a human being, instead of the way the Lords of this land were expected to treat even the best-born women. «It was raining a little,» he added. «The road might have been wet, and he was riding fast the way he always did.»

«Yes. It might have been wet.» A man would have to be deaf not to hear the skepticism in Miera's voice. Then she smiled, her familiar mixture of innocence and sensuality. «I will not press you to tell me what you could not even if you knew it. You have already told me more than anyone except my brother would tell a woman.» She reached a hand across the table and rested two fingers lightly on Blade's wrist. Then she jerked the hand back, as they both heard the nurse hissing like an indignant snake.

Finally, there was getting a Feathered One of his own.

Blade wasn't sure he needed or wanted one, but he seemed to be the only person who thought that. Everyone else assumed that a Lord of his qualities would want his own Feathered One. Even Miera joined her voice to the chorus, one of the few times he'd heard her agree with her grandfather and Alsin in public.

So finally Blade rode off to the ancient castle where the Duchy's Feathered Ones were bred and trained. The castle was the original seat of the Dukes of Nainan, turned over to the Masters of the Feathers when Castle Ranit was finished a century ago.