The closest of the three who came for her was the wiry man. He foolishly hurled himself in her direction and received a punch in the throat for his efforts. She moved aside so that he would trip over her out-thrust leg. The wiry man fell clattering into a chair at the next table, which he broke on the way down.

The last two came at her as a team, circling around the table, one approaching from her left, the other, her right. The closer man, a gray-bearded fighter with blackened teeth, was to her left. She angled in his direction as he rushed in low, trying to gather up her legs, as his companion, a black-haired man with a paunch and a scar running the length of his face, tried to pin her arms from behind.

Myrmeen's only surprise was that their effort nearly succeeded. She knew the proper way to block them, but her body was not in the same condition it had been ten years earlier, when she would have disposed of louts such as these without any perceivable effort. She allowed the black-haired man to her right to grab her arms from behind. Using the leverage he unwittingly afforded her, she kicked off from the floor and brought her boots to either side of the left man's head, kicking him with satisfying force. He fell to his knees. Then she spread her legs wide, hooked her heels behind and beneath his arms, and drove him toward the man who was holding her from behind. There was an ugly crush of bone as the full weight of the gray-bearded fighter collided with the other man's knees. The man behind her yelped in pain and released Myrmeen's arms. With the grace of an acrobat, she planted both feet on the back of the man who had fallen beneath her and leap-frogged onto the top of a second table.

"Damn it, Cardoc, if you're here, do something," she said as she saw the red-haired fighter rise before her. He had recovered more quickly than she had expected. The others were still down, and the pair of gamblers across the table did not move. The redhead's face was a bright pink, his eyes dark and smoldering with anger. The fighter grabbed her by the waist and lifted her from her feet. She toppled forward, reaching down to grab at his hair, then yanked brutally as she allowed her weight to carry her back to the top of the first table, where she again landed on her back. The gambler who had been winning merely sat and watched with amusement. A group of men stood behind him, watching the fight. Several nudged each other and pointed at her with smiles.

The red-haired fighter howled as he saw the great gobs of hair in Myrmeen's hands. Enraged, he launched herself at her in an awkward, brutish lunge, seeking to pin her to the table with his weight. With blinding speed she rolled to one side of the table, snatched a large flagon that had been overturned in their fight, then brought it down on his head as he crashed onto the table, belly first. The flagon shattered on impact, stunning the brutish fighter but not rendering him unconscious. Myrmeen surveyed the back room to ensure that there were no other enemies approaching and that the men she had put down were not preparing to rise again. Then she spun on the table and straddled the man's back, grabbing him by the hair a second time as she unsheathed her blade and laid it against his throat.

"I asked you a simple question," she said. "All you had to do was answer me. But, no, you had to be a complete ass about this. Now, all I want to know is whether or not the Night Parade is-"

Totally unmindful of the knife at his throat, the fighter reared up and stumbled back until he was able to slam Myrmeen into the wall. The impact caused her to drop her blade and lose her hold on the man. She fell to a crouch, and the few seconds it took for the red-haired fighter to turn and face her was all the time she needed to rise up on a single leg and raise her free foot into the air. Before he even guessed what she was about to do, Myrmeen brought her boot down upon the man's instep, crushing several bones in the process. The man squealed in pain and dropped to his knees before her. With an open fisted blow to his exposed ear, Myrmeen struck the man a second time. He jerked to the side as his head collided with the table's edge. Then he sank to the ground.

This time he did not get up again.

Myrmeen was breathing hard as she fell back against the wall and tried to catch her breath. She was covered in sweat and her tangled hair was matted to one side of her face. Suddenly, she was greeted with a shattering round of applause. Most of the men gathered behind the blond gambler howled with laughter and cheered her victory. The gambler shrugged philosophically and parted with nearly all the gold he had accumulated.

"You were taking bets on me?" she asked, stunned.

"Actually, I was betting against you," the man said as he paid the last who had wagered and won. Myrmeen approached him and sat down hard in one of the few remaining chairs that had not been overturned in the fight. "That did not turn out to be prudent."

Myrmeen grinned and removed the coin she had offered the red-haired fighter. "Would you like to make some easy money?"

He nodded and Myrmeen asked him about Kracauer. He was about to respond when a cold hand appeared and closed over hers, covering the coin. She looked up sharply to see the dark-haired mage standing beside her.

"That will not be necessary," Cardoc said.

Angrily rising from the table, Myrmeen stared into the tall man's dark eyes. "Where were you?"

"Here," he said.

Her mind reeled. "You were right here the entire time and you did nothing? I thought you were supposed to help me if I was in danger!"

The mage cocked his head slightly. "But you were never in any real danger. You acquitted yourself very well."

Myrmeen fumed.

"I could tell that you were doubting yourself at first," he said, "and I would have stepped in if I thought you were going to be hurt. Time has not dulled your edge, Myrmeen. If anything, it has made it sharper."

"How would you know what I was like ten years ago?" She was not about to forgive him this easily.

"I saw you fight once, in the battle for Evermeet. You were magnificent. I would not have thought to insult you then by offering assistance when you clearly did not need it. I would not do so now."

She exhaled deeply. No matter how hard she tried, she could not remain angry with him. "Next time, Lucius, just jump right in, all right? I won't feel insulted."

"Excuse me," the gambler said. "I wanted to give you this address and get paid. You remember that, don't you?"

"Like he said, that won't be needed," a man called as he broke from the crowd gathered at the door to the tap room.

"Burke," Myrmeen said. He wasn't alone. Varina, Ord, and Reisz were with him. "How much of this did you see?"

"Enough to know that you can still handle yourself in a fight," Burke said brightly, "and enough to know that you still have a rare talent for causing a brawl when a few friendly words with the barkeep can get you all the answers you need." He looked down at the bodies scattered on the floor. Several of the men were still moaning.

"At least no one appears to be dead," Reisz said as he moved forward and examined the red-haired fighter, "this time."

"Wait a minute, we had a deal," the gambler said.

Burke clamped his heavy hand on the man's shoulder and leaned in close. "Shut up if you want to keep breathing."

The man fell silent.

Varina bent down and retrieved Myrmeen's knife. "You really must try the bar across the street. They gave us a tankard of ale and Kracauer's address for a gold piece."

Myrmeen smiled in defeat. "Well, perhaps we should-"

The mage looked around in distress.

"What is it? What's wrong?" Burke asked.

Cardoc's brow furrowed and he shook his head. "It was nothing. For a moment I thought I sensed something that could not be. I'm sorry. Perhaps we should leave."