“Teach us to fight!” Ghari declared enthusiastically.
The young woman held up her hand to restrain her brother. “Ghari, you talk too much.”
“But Mandah!”
Mandah turned back to them. “You could teach us how to resist.”
“If I had a hundred years, I could not teach your heathen farmers how to fight like the Defenders.”
“Most of our people have no wish to fight, Captain,” she said. “But you know the Defenders, and R’shiel knows the Sisterhood. You know how they operate. You know their strategies. Armed with that information, our people would be able to protect themselves.”
“You are asking us to betray them,” Tarja said.
“You deserted the Defenders and just killed three of them,” Ghari pointed out. “I’d say you crossed that stream a long time ago.”
Tarja shook his head. “You’ll have to fight your own battles.”
Mandah nodded understandingly and stood back as he strode through the debris to collect their saddlebags. R’shiel stood looking at the young woman, then followed him to the door. Mandah said nothing. He had jerked the door open, kicking a broken stool out of the way when her voice stopped them.
“Captain. R’shiel.”
Tarja glanced over his shoulder at her. The other men and women in the room watched them expectantly.
“What?”
“The Purge that destroyed the Harshini killed a thousand men, women, and children. It lasted a little over ten years. This one has been going on for three months and it has already taken more lives than that. The woman responsible is your mother. I hope you sleep well at night.”
“She’s not
He slammed the door behind them as they walked away.
chapter 18
Getting into Reddingdale had been easy. Getting out was a different matter entirely. They crossed the dark street to the Livery where their horses were stabled to the sounds of shouted orders further down the road. They did not have long, he knew. The sergeant had recognized them, and word of their presence in the town would have already reached the other troops. The men who had raided the inn were only a small part of a much larger force, which was unlikely to be under the command of another raw lieutenant. Telling the drowsy stableboy to go back to sleep, they saddled their horses quickly in the dim light cast by a shielded lantern and led them to the door.
Dousing the lantern, he opened the stable door fractionally, glancing into the street. Although he could not see anything in his limited line of sight, he could hear the Defenders moving toward the inn. The officer in charge called out an order to move up. Tarja cursed silently as he recognized the voice. Nheal Alcarnen was a friend, or had been once. They had served together on the border for a time. Tarja had no wish to confront him, no wish to kill him, and certainly no wish to be killed by him. As he pulled back into the stable, a figure detached itself from the shadows by the inn and ran across the muddy street toward him, slipping past him and into the stable as he pushed the door shut.
“You can’t escape that way,” Mandah warned as she pushed back the hood of her cape.
“You should be more concerned with yourself, than us,” Tarja whispered.
“Our people will be safe.”
“Jelanna’s looking out for them, I suppose?” R’shiel muttered.
“Jelanna taught us to honor her and the other gods, believe in them faithfully, and to build an escape tunnel through the cellar. My friends are well clear of the inn by now.”
“So, you heathens aren’t as helpless as you look.”
“We are still human, Captain,” she replied. “We simply choose to believe in the forces of nature, not man. We believe that humans should embrace the forces of the natural world, rather than—”
“Convince him some other time,” R’shiel interrupted as the sound of the advancing troop drew nearer. Doors slammed and angry shouts erupted as the Defenders checked the houses and stores on either side of the street. Nheal was an experienced captain. He was too adept to leave his rear exposed as he moved on the inn, even if his attackers might be little more than angry storekeepers. It was a maxim to the Defenders, drummed into Cadets from their first day: A weapon without a man is not dangerous; any man with a weapon is. They had only minutes before they reached the inn. “Jelanna didn’t happen to tell you to build an escape route out of here too, did she?”
“If I show you the way out of here, I place my friends at great risk. I cannot take such a risk unless there is something in it for us.”
Tarja frowned. “That’s blackmail.”
Mandah met his gaze, unconcerned by the sound of the advancing Defenders or by their imminent danger of arrest. “Not at all, Captain. The choice is yours. Escape or capture.”
Tarja wavered with indecision for a moment. He looked over her shoulder at R’shiel who shrugged, as if to say they had little choice in the matter and no time to argue about it. “All right, show us the way out.”
“And you will help us?” she asked, refusing to act until she had his promise.
“Yes!” he snapped. “Now move it!”
But it was too late. The door rattled as a Defender tried the latch. A fist pounded heavily on the door, waking the stableboy, who staggered toward the door, staring at them owlishly for a moment as he reached for the locking bar. Mandah pushed R’shiel toward the ladder that led to the loft.
“Quickly!” she hissed. “Up there!”
R’shiel kicked their saddlebags under the nearest stall and then scrambled up the ladder as Mandah grabbed Tarja’s arm and pulled him toward the first stall, pushing him so hard he landed on his back. She tore open her blouse and literally threw herself on top of him, kissing him furiously. Startled, it took a moment for Tarja to realize what she was doing.
By the time he had the presence of mind to kiss her back, the Defenders were inside.
Mandah screamed piercingly as a red-coated trooper peered into the stable, holding a torch high above his head. She allowed him a good long look at her generous pale breasts before she snatched up her skirts to cover herself, effectively hiding Tarja’s face in the process.
“What have we got here, then?” the Defender asked. He sounded like an older man.
“Get out!” Mandah screamed, then she burst into tears. “Oh! Please don’t tell my mother, sir! I love Robbie! Really I do! He loves me too! Tell him, Robbie!” She poked him under her skirts and he squawked with the sharp pain.
“I’ll not tell your mother, lassie,” the Defender said. “We’re lookin‘ for a deserter. Tall chap with dark hair. Dangerous lookin’ fella, he is. Got a redhead with him, near tall as him and very pretty. They were around here tonight.”
“Tall, you say? With dark hair?” she asked thoughtfully. “And redhead?”
“Aye, that’s our pair.”
“Then I saw them!” she cried, poking Tarja painfully in the ribs again. “We saw them, didn’t we Robbie? Don’t you remember? They were here! They ran off when they heard you coming!”
“How long ago?” the trooper demanded.
Mandah thought for a moment, letting the skirt drop a little so that there was more flesh than was decent visible in the flickering torchlight.
“Well, Robbie and I had already... you know... once... and it was a bit before that. Half an hour, maybe? I think they went that way,” she added, pointing east, away from the river.
The Defender nodded and turned to the saddled and patiently waiting horses with a shout. Defenders swarmed around the entrance to the stables as the beasts were led outside. Nheal’s voice rose over the others as he issued his orders, which carried clearly to Tarja, even buried under the weight of Mandah, who still sat astride him, and the smothering skirts that concealed him.
