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"I'll put Rolf on it. But it'd be risky. We can't afford casualties. We don't
have enough men to defend the whole wall now. Maybe we could use Nepanthe's
Iwa Skolovdans. They wouldn't be much loss. Blackfang and Kildragon have
drilled them silly, and they're still not much better than recruits." ,
"What do you think of our chances?"
"Excellent. Standard assault procedure calls for a five-to-one advantage.
They've got us by about three. Haroun knows that. But he's got something
going, or he would've left. But I can't figure what." He glanced down.
Saltimbanco and Nepanthe had left the wall. He saw them enter the Bell Tower.
Mocker was certainly taking his time with her. But, from what Elana said, she
was a stubborn case. Women. Remarkable creatures.
His thoughts turned to the old man who had hired them. Who was he? Why was the
destruction of Ravenkrak so important to him?
Saltimbanco held the door for Nepanthe. She thanked him, walked to her
embroidery frame, fidgeted with needles. There were always fires in Ravenkrak,
even during the "summer." The chair wasn't as comfortable as when he had been
heavier. He closed his eyes halfway and watched the flames through his lashes.
They were curious iridescences.
Nepanthe toyed with her embroidery for fifteen minutes, then started pacing.
Her gaze refused to leave Saltimbanco. They had been discussing the siege and
Turran's plans, but their thoughts tended elsewhere.
Saltimbanco was frightened of himself, of his lusts, and that strange other
feeling he had for Nepanthe. The latter he thought he could conquer, but the
former... More than once, he had come near rape. And that would destroy
everything.
Nepanthe, for her part, had finally admitted to herself that she loved this
strangely frightened man. She had admitted that she wanted to... well, that
she wanted. But she was terrified. Her talks with Astrid calmed her
intellectual fear, but dark emotional currents still surged under the surface
of her mind, far too deep to be easily stilled. She was sure she would die a
virgin.
She circled the chair where he sat sleepily studying the fire through his
lashes, thinking of attacking his ear the way Astrid had described. But no,
that was too much. And she was too frightened.
She went to the front, of the chair. He looked up with those strange brown
eyes. She bit her lip. Her throat became tight and unresponsive. She couldn't
say what she wanted. A flicker of emotion crossed his dusky face. What?
Trembling slightly, she took his hand, settled onto the arm of the chair. He
squeezed gently, went back to studying the fire. She shifted, leaned toward
him. Tightly, hoarsely, she said, "There's something you need..."
When he glanced up, she moved the last six inches and pressed her lips against
his. It lasted just a second. Her jaw trembled. She shivered. She felt him
quavering as he fought for control. She wanted him to drag her into his lap,
but...The enchanted moment died. A door slammed somewhere in her mind. Fear
struck. She backed away slowly, fighting herself, not wanting him hurt. She
was running again, fleeing herself. She bit her lip painfully, returned to her
embroidery.
Moments later, as she cursed a bad stitch and her own ineffectuality, he
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started snoring. It seemed a pointed sound, a mockery. It cut her to the heart
of her being.
Why can't I be a normal woman? Why? Why? Why?
Nepanthe responded to the knock with a glum, "Enter." But when Elana came in,
she brightened. "Astrid. What do you think about me? Why am I so mixed up?"
Elana paused just inside the door, wondering what had happened. "Company leave
already?"
"I kissed him... but he didn't do anything... and I got scared and ruined it."
"So?"
"Well, I wanted..."
"Nepanthe, let it be. You're worrying too much. Don't force it. It won't work.
Let it ride. Suddenly, you'll look up and find everything roses." She hoped.
"Maybe. It's just... well... I can't explain."
"Why try? Nepanthe, you're a natural worrier, you know that? You find problems
where there aren't any. Do you like being miserable? I mean, sure, it's
something to think about, but don't hinge your life on it. You need something
to keep you busy, that's what. That's your trouble."
"What? What use am I here? I'm just another mouth, worthless to Ravenkrak."
"You make me mad when you're like this. Something to do? Last night Rendel
said Brock hasn't made any hospital arrangements. We'll need a place to doctor
the wounded. I hear there's plenty of space in the Deep Dungeons."
"But it's filthy down there. They haven't been used for ages."
"We could clean them up, couldn't we? Look, we've got a castle full of women
that're bored silly. This would keep them out of trouble."
"It'd take a lot of time..."
"It'll be a month before they're ready outside. Longer, if Rendel raids them
like he's thinking."
"We'd better get started then."
Elana smiled. Her ploy had been effective.
"Let me get my wrap," said Nepanthe. "We'll get the keys, then see what's got
to be done."
Elana, with Nepanthe, Saltimbanco, and the male Storm Kings, stood in the
parapet of the Black Tower, over Ravenkrak's gate, silent in a strong wind,
watching the midnight sortie. Below, besiegers had been working by torchlight
till the sortie reached them. Their first warning had been the cries of their
fellows. Now flames, fed by naptha, were devouring lumber and tools. Tents in
the workers' camp went up.
The wounded began coming in. The fighting went on. Torches coming up the
mountain showed reinforcements on the way. Elana and Nepanthe fled to their
makeshift hospital and began the sad, bloody business of putting soldiers
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together again. Most of the wounded were prisoners. With the enemy advance
camp destroyed and two weeks' labor on the earthworks ruined, Ragnarson
withdrew. He and Rolf mustered their companies in the courtyard for roll call.
Suddenly, Elana came running, winded from the climb out of the Deep Dungeons.
"Bragi," she gasped, almost collapsing. "It's Haaken. He's bad hurt... And
he's got... something on the old man."
"Damn!" He turned and bellowed, "Rolf! Kildragon! Elana, stick with him and
keep Nepanthe away. Don't let him give us away." Rolf and Kildragon arrived.
Ragnarson explained. "Haaken's found what we want. I'll go down as soon as we
get muster."
"How is he?" Rolf asked.
"Out cold," Elana replied. "But I can't find anything wrong, even though he
looks like he's dying. I'll have to keep him alive before anything." She
started off.
"Wait!" said Ragnarson. "There's a room in the Lower Armories no one uses. If
we can shuffle him in there, he'd be out of the way. Damn! Damn!" He was
scared Haaken would give them away, scared he might lose the only family he
had...
High above, Saltimbanco watched the party break up. He glanced at the Storm
Kings. They were enthralled by the flames below the walls. He looked back into
the courtyard, wondering what the trouble was. Elana had brought the news, so
she was the one to see. "Self," he said, "am going down to Deep Dungeons. Will
gentle brave troops."
"Ha!" Valther snorted. "Need an excuse to see Nepanthe, eh? Been neglecting
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