“You misunderstand, girl, in believing your brothers were ‘permitted’ to ride forth to sharpen their battle skills,” he said with less gruffness than his usual manner, drawing Lisah’s light blue gaze. “Male children are required to do so among the Dunkahns, and I doubt not that the same holds true for Cambehl sons. Daughters, however, are another matter entirely, for one man may get many heirs on two or three wives, but one woman may have no more than one birth at a time, no matter the number of husbands. Battle was made for men, girl, and we would none of us wish to see you lost to it.”

“Your outlook is more than understandable, child,” Count Sahm added at once, grateful to Duke Hwill for the assistance of his words. “With the blood of Clan Maiden warriors so thick in your veins, scarcely could you see the matter elsewise. You must, however, make the effort to recall that my word to you was not as you stated it. You were told that in the absence of acceptable suitors your life was yours to direct, a qualification which no longer obtains. Do you contend that the thing was not put to you in such a way?”

Lisah stared silently up at her father, helpless to deny the statement, for it was certainly true. That she had failed to place significance on the qualification was certainly not the fault of her sire, yet was it inarguably his fault that such a qualification had been added to begin with. In a few brief moments she had grown to feel that all those about her attacked at once with weapons she was totally unfamiliar with, but her training and basic nature disallowed surrender, or falling without a final effort.

“And the fact that 1 have already committed myself, just as Dharrehn had?” she said, unaware of the sadness in her father at the stiffness of her tone and bearing. “There was another qualification, perhaps, allowing his word to be honored the while mine need not be?”

Again there was an exchange of glances, nearly to the point of embarrassment, yet her father refused to allow himself to avoid her gaze.

“Lisah, child, the qualification had no need to be spoken of aloud,” he said, this time sparing her no more than he would have one of his sons. “Dharrehn is a man, the while you are not.”

The words struck her more harshly than a bucket of ice water for predawn wakening, a clear-cut statement of prejudice she had never before encountered. The arms masters who had trained her had never demanded less from her because of her sex, and she had never understood that this had been done because her life was precious to them. To demand less would have been to give less, and to their minds her due was all they were capable of giving. Lisah, the girl trained up with men and by men and now a woman, found comprehension completely beyond her.

“1 see,” she said, even more stiffly than before, meeting the eyes of none about her, the lie spoken automatically and without conscious thought. “I regret that I must now ask to be excused, my lords. An—illness has settled upon me of a sudden, and 1 fear I would be no fit company for guests who do my father honor with their presence.”

None attempted to halt the girl as she turned and made her unheeding way through the balance of the guests, some of whom had been near enough to hear what had transpired, but most sighed for her distress. Komees Sahm of the Cambehl line, a man who had inspired songs with the ferocity of his battle skills while still a very young man, sighed more deeply than the others, causing Duke Hwill to step to his side and clap him gently on the shoulder in commiseration.

“She will not long be so filled with upset, my friend,” he assured the man, who surely felt that he had somehow betrayed one of his own blood. “I now see the wisdom in the manner in which my own girls were raised, and you must recall that your duty lies in seeing her well wed, not well battle-companied. She is more than bright, and will soon come to understand that you wish only the best for her.”

“And 1 will see that she receives not one whit less,” said Bryahn of Dunkahn, stepping forward to stand beside his sire. “1 had not hoped to find a wife 1 both desired and respected, and now that I have 1 will certainly see that she has no regrets over our union. Wind Whisper has assured me that 1 am unlikely to find better to bear my kittens, and I would be a fool to disregard such sound advice.”

“You are all surely correct,” the count allowed with a final sigh, unable to keep from chuckling at having his future grandsons termed “kittens.” “The girl will retire early, perhaps with tears, and in the morning will be capable again of smiles. The hour of the day remains early, yet is the feast 1 promised now ready for consumption. Shall we drink a bit more, or retire to the tables?”

“Drink, I trust, is also available at your board, and we have traveled far in the days just past,” said Thoheeks Hwill with a second, stronger shoulder clap, grinning in anticipation. “I have heard many things said of the table you set, and the least of them brings instant watering to my mouth.”

“Not to speak of the fact that we must, this night, return Archduke Bili to the camp where most of our escort waits,” said Bryahn, also agrin at his father’s well-known penchant for fine food. “He accompanied us at the High Lord’s request merely to perform introductions, and now must return home with all possible speed.”

“But not without first fortifying myself for the journey,” the ahrkeethoheeks put in, a faint smile on him for the fact known only to himself that his presence had not been merely for introductions. The High Lord Milo’s keen interest would need to be satisfied, and this he was now able to do.

“There was little need to camp your escort a full mile from my city, my lords.” Count Sahm repeated what he had much earlier said, only this time with unarguable firmness as he began to lead the way to his dining hall. “You will, of course, fetch the balance of them back with you after the ahrkeethoheeks is on his way, for there will then no longer be a need for speedy departure. My city may be small, yet is it certainly capable of . . .”

His words trailed off as he and his guests and his sons quitted the room, followed at a discreet distance by those other guests who were the city’s notables. Not all, however, followed with eager anticipation, for there are all sorts of things which might be anticipated. One guest, a man with weak chin and burning eyes, a man who delighted in always being well dressed and never leaving in doubt his excellent upbringing, held his ground in thought while the others followed, then turned and left the reception room by another door. What he anticipated might not be eaten, but after its successful completion it would certainly need to be swallowed.

Full dark had long since descended when Lisah slipped into the deserted stables, laboring to keep herself from rattling. Her mare, White Feet, already expected her, and was not far from stamping in eagerness.

“Why must we be silent, sister?” the mare asked with mindspeak as the girl slipped into the stall, turning her head to watch the arrival. “And why is your chain wrapped rather than upon you?”

“We must be silent for the reason that some men seem capable only of speaking of honor, not of practicing it,” the girl replied in the same way, setting her burden down before reaching for her saddle. “Also, my chain must be wrapped rather than worn, for I have never before worn it on our nightly excursions just without the city’s walls. A last, brisk gallop before retiring is something to be expected of us; an armored gallop is not.”

Which was why she wore no more than boiled leather beneath her swordbelt, her chain mail and bow and shafts and darts carefully wrapped for dropping over the wall. Once she had passed through the gate she would reclaim the bundles, and gave thanks to Sacred Sun that it was chain rather than plate she needed to drop. Chain would cause enough of a racket, but plate would be heard all the way to her destination.