Tiphaine leapt even as the horse attacked, landed rolling and came erect with her sword back in her hand; she whipped it through a quick figure eight as Joris rose. Rudi took two steps back, leapt himself, grasped the big horse's mane and pulled himself over her withers. And shouted for sheer exhilaration as he felt her move beneath him: "Free! Free!"

Joris Stein had his own sword; he shook his ruined shield free and drew his dagger with his left hand, wincing a little as he forced the wrenched muscles to work. He dropped into stance.

"You know," Tiphaine said in that cool voice as she walked forward, "I never liked you, Joris. And you've just come onto my land, slaughtered my vassals, threatened to cut my girlfriend's throat and tried to kill a little kid I was ordered to guard."

She smiled a slow, stark smile. "But hey, you know what they say-all's well that ends well."

"I'll see you rot in Hell!"

"Undoubtedly. But we won't meet there today, I think. Usually it's just business, but I'm going to enjoy this. Let's get it on."

"Go, Epona, go!" Rudi called. "Find them!"

Astrid Larsson trotted up the hill. The wreckage of the fight was on either, side; men dead, men wounded and moaning or trying to patch their injuries. A trained eye could see how it had gone-the charge, the volley of crossbow bolts and then the savage running scrimmage up the winding pathway, the defenders failing one by one. For the last fifty yards it had been one defender, and her eyes went a little wide as she read the evidence of scuffed soil, bodies, sprays of blood on the trunks of the thinly scattered Douglas firs, a sword left where a desperate dying stroke had driven it into a trunk as deep as the blood-channel down the middle of the blade. The heavy iron scent of slaughter was as familiar as the sap and musty scuffed earth and duff of the forest floor. Eilir pointed with the tip of her bow, moving from one sign to another, and John Hordle's lips shaped a low whistle.

Then Astrid's head snapped up at the rapid thudding of hooves. It was very steep here for a horse, even one as agile as her Asfaloth or her soul-sister's Cele-broch; that was why they'd dismounted a ways back. Alleyne gave a shout of exultation as Epona halted and pawed the earth with one hoof, but the face of the titian-haired boy on her back was strained and set.

"Follow me," he said. "Quickly!"

"Wait-" Astrid said, but the big horse turned in place, graceful as a cat, and plunged away back uphill.

The four looked at each other. The rest of the Dunedain were beating the woods all around: and there was no choice at all. They bent their heads and ran up the forty-degree slope, banishing exhaustion by an act of will. The trees thinned still more, turning to an open meadow that tilted from steep hillside to sloping plateau, blue distance opening around them as they passed from the shadows of the trees into knee-high grass starred with flowers and dotted with prickly Oregon grape. There were more dead men, more wounded, and two figures that still fought-one in armor, the other in white linen and black leather, with pale hair swirling around her shoulders. As the Dunedain approached the armored man reeled back, his sword turning circles in the air as it flew away from a wrist half severed by a drawing cut.

The blond woman's sword moved with a speed that only those themselves experts could follow. The man screamed and screamed again.

"That's for finking out Lady Sandra," Tiphaine d'Ath said in a panting snarl as she struck in a blurring flurry, every blow lethal but none instantly so. "That's for risking the princess. That's for trying to kill Rudi. That's for hurting my girl, you son of a bitch!"

The man tottered and fell to his knees, moaning and clutching at his wrist.

"And this is for the character in that stupid fucking book!"

He tried to scream once more, but the sword transfixing his throat through leather and mail had cut the voice box, and his eyes alone spoke as the blood swelled through his mouth and clenched teeth in a growing tide. When the blade withdrew with a twist he fell and beat his mail gauntlets on the ground for an instant, then slumped limp. Grass and blue lupine waved in to hide most of the metal-clad shape.

Tiphaine d'Ath, Astrid thought, and felt herself smile as she raised her bow. Rudi back with us and you here to kill. This is a good day!

The Association warrior stood and let her breathing slow, eyes flicking from face to grim-held face, seeing implacable Fate in each. Then she spread her arms, sword and dagger held loosely, the spring breeze flicking wet elflocks of her pale hair around her face.

"It's a good day to die," she said, preparing for a final leap.

"No!"

A girl Astrid didn't recognize sprang in front of Tiphaine, trying to cover her body with her own; she was full-grown but younger than Astrid herself by a few years, wide blue eyes desperate, long black hair falling past her shoulders.

"No, don't hurt her!" The girl's hands moved in signs. "I'm with the Coven, you've got to listen to me-don't hurt her!"

The drawn bows remained unwavering; at this range any of them could shoot past without injuring anyone but their target. Astrid's eyes flicked to Eilir, and she nodded-the claim was true, then. That didn't mean they shouldn't dispose of so dangerous an enemy, of course.

"She saved Rudi's life!" the young woman went on.

"She did," Rudi said, calming Epona with a hand down her neck. "Twice."

Mathilda nodded vigorously, laying down a crossbow far too big for her. "She did! Joris was going to kill him! Tiphaine jumped and got her sword between them and Joris missed, but then he nearly killed her too."

That's different, Astrid thought as Tiphaine urged the black-haired girl aside.

"Go see to the princess, sweetie," the noble said to her. "These people and I have unfinished business."

Astrid closed her eyes for an instant. Threefold, she thought with a sigh of regret, and lowered her bow. The others did as well, Hordle with a low almost-grumble of protest and a roll of his eyes.

"Tiphaine d'Ath," the Lady of the Dunedain said. "I owe you nothing for your friend Katrina's death; that was honest war. But we do stand greatly in your debt for saving Rudi. Take a life for a life then, and count us quits. I am not eager to deal out death in judgment."

Their eyes met for a long instant, ice gray to silver-blue. Then the Protectorate noble shrugged; she drew her sword blade through a cloth and sheathed it.

"You can't have the princess back," she said carefully. "Not while I'm alive to guard her."

"We don't want her. Lady Juniper's orders are to leave her in her mother's care. You're not in a position to make conditions, though, are you?"

The other's lips quirked a little. "Oh, I was going to challenge you to single combat. Now, that would have been interesting."

"Yes: " Astrid said, with a momentary pang. Like Eowyn and the Lord of the Nazgul before the walls of Gondor. "Except that I wouldn't have accepted. Duty would forbid."

"With its shrill, unpleasant voice." Tiphaine bowed her head slightly and sighed. "It's time to let Kat's ghost go, I suppose. Take the brat, then. He's a good kid, but sort of spooky: and that horse is worse. And a favor for a favor; you'd better hurry. I got one of my men out before the fight started, and there'll be a rescue party heading this way fast."

The Dunedain nodded, and silently turned to go. Rudi took his hat off and waved it at Mathilda. "See you, Matti!" he called, and then whooped as the great horse pirouetted and followed.