That also made a certain amount of sense, but not enough for Blade. He still thought Cyron was running foolish risks. He didn't say that, though, for fear that Cyron would think he was asking him to appear cowardly. Then the Duke would turn a completely deaf ear to his arguments on everything, for days or even weeks.

Blade decided instead to try working on Cyron through Miera.

He found her nearly as deaf to what he considered reason as her grandfather. It didn't help matters that she was also pregnant.

«If you did not put the child into me on our wedding night, it could not have been many nights afterward,» she said with a giggle. «I do not know if I should hope your loins remain so strong or not. If they do, there will be many fine children to rebuild the House of Nainan. But I should have to bear all of them. I know I should rejoice in the idea like a proper woman, but-«

Blade ran a hand down her bare back and gently patted her buttocks. «You're as proper a woman as any man could wish, and if I asked for more, I'd be a fool.» Why should she look forward to bearing me seven or eight children, then dying in childbirth at the age of thirty?

«Let us take the children one at a time, as the Fathers send them to us. Let us also finish talking about what I asked you. Will you help your grandfather understand that Castle Ranit is too weakly defended?»

«Too weakly for your peace of mind, perhaps. But if it is strong enough for my grandfather, he will not change his mind. Not even if I asked him, and I will not.»

Blade sat up with a jerk. «Why? Miera, this is-«

«It is nothing less than my lordly duty, to avoid seeming weak and fearful. I must do this, or I could be marking our child. Would you have him grow up a coward because I could not sleep without guards outside my door? You do not understand how such things look, through a woman's eyes.» She laid her head against his chest so that her silky red hair brushed his stomach.

«No.» said Blade with a sigh. «I suppose I do not.» Nor do I understand as much about what it is to be «lordly» as I thought I did.

Miera moved against him, more insistently. He decided it was time to forget about lurking dangers, at least for tonight.

If Blade couldn't save Cyron and Miera from their own stubbornness, he was determined to save Cheeky. So the Feathered One was perched on the saddle in front of him the next morning as he rode over the drawbridge. Miera waved her scarf to him from the keep window, then he gave his mount its head.

Alsin had set up a system of relay posts running all the way from Castle Ranit to the borders of the Duchy of Faissa. By changing horses at each post, a strong rider could cover what was normally a five-day ride in a single day. Blade compromised, changing horses about halfway. He spent the night at an inn, and reached Castle Muras about midafternoon of the next day.

He knew something was wrong almost the moment he rode through the gate. Each man he passed looked intently at him, then quickly looked away, as if afraid Blade would read his face. In the stable it was the same. He also saw a totally exhausted horse with Cyron's brand on it, standing in the stall next to his.

«Would someone please tell me what happened?» he snapped. «Has my face turned purple or something?» He spoke sharply, to drive away the cold doubts clutching at him.

No one answered. Everyone seemed more reluctant than before to meet his eyes. Then he saw a familiar figure silhouetted against the door of the stable. Chenosh stepped forward, and Blade saw that his eyes were red and his face drawn and gray. The doubts were suddenly even more chilling.

«Chenosh, what-?»

«Blade-my grandfather is dead. Murdered. It was yesterday morning, shortly after you left Nainan. A messenger from the castle rode straight through to get here with the news.»

«What about Miera?»

«She-she fought the murderer. She-she's hurt, and may not live.»

Blade's legs held him up as far as a bench by the door. Then he sat down and swallowed hard. «All right, Chenosh. Tell me.»

«It was yesterday morning…»

Miera had come down from the keep, to find her grandfather already at breakfast in his private chamber. He looked her over as she sat down on the far side of the table.

«You are well, Miera?»

«Now don't you start fussing over me, Grandfather. I'm going to have quite enough of that from Richard.»

«You have told him you are with child?»

«Of course.»

«Miera, your tongue-«

She smiled and reached out a hand to him. «Grandfather, forgive me. But I think you must understand that the way I speak to men now is what Richard taught me. I know his way is not the way of the Crimson River, but-«

Cyron threw up his hands. «Now it is my turn to ask you not to fuss. I understand. Very well. Blade's way with women is indeed his own, but I will not say anything against him because of that. A man who fights and leads as he does can be forgiven many faults.»

Miera wanted to go around to the other side of the table and kiss her grandfather. But she saw a servant approaching, and decided to wait until he was out of earshot.

The servant was a tall, heavy man, with a bushy head of graying red hair. He announced that six Lords from Gualdar were in the courtyard below but would not intrude on His Grace's meal. Cyron thanked them for the courtesy and promised to receive them in an hour. The servant bent to offer the Duke a raisin-stuffed chicken. Miera thought she saw metal gleaming in the man's hair. Now why should he be wearing a comb like a woman?

Suddenly the man's hands went limp and the chicken on its massive silver platter crashed to the table. Chicken and raisins flew everywhere.

«You clumsy oaf-!» roared Cyron.

«Your Grace, I beg you. Be merciful. I don't know what came over me….» The man clutched frantically at his hair. Suddenly his right hand tightened into a fist, then sprang free of his hair, clutching a long thin dagger. Miera screamed. Her grandfather looked up, just in time to take the dagger in his right eye. She screamed again as he slumped back into his chair, blood running from his nose and mouth. The murderer jerked the dagger free and turned to run.

This made him turn his back on Miera. She hurled herself across the table, her gown snagging on something and ripping to the waist, but she clutched him by the belt. He bellowed and turned, stabbing with the dagger. She felt the steel drive into her back, but it seemed no more than a pinprick. She clutched the belt tighter and started to scream, not in pain but in the hope of drawing the guards.

In this she was successful. But by the time they came, the servant had stabbed her twelve times, then picked up the serving platter and hit her over the head: She was unconscious, and it was not until they'd finished binding the killer that the guards realized she wasn't dead. By that time the «Lords from Gualdar,» who'd been planning to cover the assassin's escape, or if necessary finish his work, were riding for their lives. Every Lord in the house who could find a horse leaped into the saddle and chased after them.

«At least the dagger wasn't poisoned,» Chenosh concluded dully. «So she may live, if her skull is not broken too badly.»

Blade only twisted his fingers together in impotent fury. He wanted to strangle someone with his bare hands, but no one within reach deserved that fate. Even if someone did, killing wouldn't bring back Duke Cyron or cure Miera.

«Well, Your Grace-«he began, when he could trust himself to speak.

«Please, Blade!»

«No, Chenosh. You are now Duke of Nainan. The sooner you accept it and start behaving like a Duke, the sooner your grandfather will be avenged and his work finished.»