Captain!'
'Hit him and take it, then!'
'Gladly, Captain!' Aldus spun around and brought his baton around in a wicked arc. Belkram stumbled back with inches to spare, and the guard rushed forward, pulling his baton back for another blow.
It never landed. As he charged forward, a slim hand rose from the post, caught hold of his arm, and pulled. Aldus's head rammed the post with all the strength of his charge, and Sharantyr stepped back, turned to survey the line of guards witheringly, and asked, 'Who's next, dolts?'
There came a roar of anger, and five men started forward. 'Hold hard!' their captain roared out, but none of them paid him heed.
Two reached the Lady of Shadowdale first, batons out-and she dropped to the path and flung herself at their boots. They went over her with a crash.
The third man in snarled a curse and kicked at her; Shar grabbed the boot flashing past her and hauled sharply upward. With a ground-shaking crash, the man fell on his rear. Then the batons of the fourth and fifth were raining down on her-for a few instants, before Belkram hit them from one side and Itharr from the other, and two helmed heads rang together.
Itharr fell on his knees atop the groaning third guard. The man emitted a sort of strangled whistle and thrashed around, struggling for breath enough to shout out his pain. Itharr rolled away, letting the senseless fourth and fifth guards fall on him.
The guardcaptain started forward hesitantly, seeing only two of his men left. They were rising with murder on their faces and swords in their hands.
Shar got to her own feet in time to face them, her hands empty-but by then Belkram had smashed aside the captain's hastily drawn blade and run the man up against the lintel, hands on his throat.
'Call your men off attacking the Lady of Shadowdale,' the Harper snarled at him as they strained eyeball to eyeball, 'or so help me I'll tear your throat out!' Iron fingers dug deep into the man's flesh to back up those words, then loosened enough to let the man whimper.
'Aid!' he called out in a raw voice. 'An attack!'
Disgusted, Belkram bounced the man's head forcefully off the stones. The captain's eyes rolled up for a brief instant before he slid to the ground, but the Harper was already snatching the captain's blade out of his hands and whirling around.
The retreating Shar had fallen back over the tangled trio of unconscious guards, and Itharr was crouched over her, trying to ward off two jabbing blades with a pair of batons he'd snatched up.
Belkram snarled an oath and charged around the pile of bodies. He lunged at the two guards, waving his captured blade. They turned to meet him and fell back to force him to come between them. Belkram obliged, swerving at the last instant to bind the blade of one with his own. He grabbed the man by the armpit, swung him around into the path of the other guard's blade, and with his free hand smashed the man across the throat.
Gagging, the man fell. Belkram clubbed the back of his helm and sprang back.
The last guard's blade flashed through the leathers at Belkram's wrist, and the stolen sword spun away from the Harper's numbed fingers. The guard's face widened into an unpleasant grin. He sidled a foot or so, still smiling, as a stool Itharr had snatched up from inside the door struck the side of his head and carried him a pace to the south… into the realm of dreams.
The two Harpers looked wearily at each other, went to pick up Shar from the tangle of sprawled bodies, and trudged into the tower.
They'd almost reached the end of the long central passage when Shaerl and Thurbal, captain-of-arms of the Twisted Tower, strode briskly across it. The Lady of Shadowdale was speaking. 'Well, I don't think those new men are trained eno-'
'I couldn't agree more,' Belkram snarled, cradling Sharantyr's head against his shoulder.
'Aye,' Itharr agreed, casting a guard's sword to the tiles at Thurbal's feet. 'Next time you hire seven dolts from Belgard, be sure he remembers to send their brains along with them!'
Thurbal gaped at the three of them, but Shaerl turned to her captain-of-arms and snapped, 'Get fresh guards for the doors-and send all the servants you can find here, as fast as they can move!'
She guided the three rangers to a bench and rang the nearest gong furiously. To the first servant who appeared, she snapped, 'Send everyone here at once! Then fill my lord's bath-the new big one, and mind the water's hot! Get help, but do it fast!'
To the second she snarled, 'Three carry-chairs, and men to bear them, back here as fast as you're able!'
Then she turned her head as the kitchen door opened. 'Purk? Bring whatever you have roasting-and all the breads and cheeses you can lay hands on, and the best wine you can get-to my lord's chamber at once!'
'Impressive,' Belkram murmured to her just before he fell asleep.
'Indeed,' Shaerl told him gently. She looked down the hall to the doors, where armsmen were carrying in seven limp armored forms under Thurbal's coldly furious eye.
Itharr woke once on the stairs, swaying in his chair to murmur, 'Killed a lot of Zhents for you…'
'Eat first,' Shaerl told him, guiding the chair across the parlor. 'We'll talk later.'
'Bathe first,' Sharantyr announced firmly.
'Nay, Lady,' one of the armsmen said gently as he set her chair down. 'For ye, it's sleep first.' The lady ranger's head lolled to one side as she began to gently snore; she heard him only in her dreams.
'Get this armor off them,' Shaerl told the armsman, unbuckling and tugging at Sharantyr's body for all she was worth.
'Haste or care, Lady?'
'Care for them… haste otherwise,' she replied briskly, hurling a vambrace across the room. It struck the far wall with a crash that made a serving girl wince-and when the armsmen enthusiastically followed Shaerl's example, the maid covered her ears and fled. The air quickly filled with flying pieces of armor.
Amid the clangor, puffing relays of servants speedily filled the gigantic copper tub. Shaerl herself added the soap and wyverntail oil, then turned back to the armsmen. 'Get some rope,' she ordered the nearest one. 'I don't want them drowning.'
'Aye, Lady.'
Striding to her wardrobe, Shaerl snatched the doors open and took the first three garments off their pegs without looking. Sliding them under the arms of each ranger-gods, the reek! — and across their chests, she flipped the ends of the three gowns up for the armsmen to tie the ropes to, noticed that one garment was a favorite of hers, shrugged, and began to disrobe.
An armsman hovering uncertainly nearby gulped, looked away, and a sash slapped into him. He caught it reflexively, then looked up to see his Lady's gown coming his way, mastered a calm expression as he fielded it, and stepped forward to take the rest as they were offered.
The Lady Shaerl was stepping unconcernedly into the hot depths of the tub as the other armsmen rushed back in with coils of rope, goggled at her for an instant, and wisely set about their task without comment or delay.
'More soap!' Shaerl ordered briskly as servants scurried, 'and that scratcher!'
The wooden back scratcher was handed to her, and she set to work. Lice floated away almost immediately atop the scummy water. 'Bethra,' she said, without looking up, 'Draw Lady Sharantyr's hair out over the edge, put a bowl under it, and start washing! Use my seafoam ointment!'
So it was that when Purk bustled up at the head of a procession bringing platters of hot fowl from the kitchens, he found three rangers, grimy and snoring, slumped over asleep in the huge bath, and the lady of the tower in their midst, as bare as the day she was born, scrubbing and rinsing for all she was worth.
'A feast is served, my lady,' he announced with quiet dignity-and was most startled a moment later when Shaerl looked up at him through her dripping hair and snapped, 'Well, off with your clothes and get in, Purk! Wake them up and feed them-the others can pass you the platters as you need them! And have wine ready so that no one chokes-ah, gods, give a bottle here first! This is thirsty work!'
A grinning kitchen-boy uncorked a bottle and handed it to his lady, who winked at him and said, 'You're small enough! Pick up a brush, off with those, and get in here!' She took a swig of wine, gasped in satisfaction, looked at one of the armsmen, and snapped, 'More hot water!'
