The emir smiled, obviously amused. 'There are women warriors among the small folk?'
'It is not common,' Talon admitted, 'but among the Runelords, a person s gender does not matter much. Forcibles tend to be great equalizers. Besides, my father was the king s personal bodyguard, and at times we were in great danger, so he taught me everything that he knew.'
The emir nodded appreciatively at that. 'The better to protect you. Very well, I shall call you Talon from now on. What does the name mean, in the tongue of the small folk?'
'It is a claw, like that found on a hawk,' Talon said.
'Interesting,' the emir said. 'Do you know what the name Tholna means?'
Tholna was a common name among girls. 'It is an ancient weapon, I ve heard.'
'Not so ancient. It was often used in Dalharristan, when I was a lad. It had a handle that one could grasp in the hand, with two long hooks attached to it-hooks that protruded on either side of the middle finger. Thus, in ancient Dalharristan, the weapon was called a talon.
'It is odd, don t you think,' the emir continued, 'that your father would give you the same name on both worlds? It makes me wonder how many other similarities there might be.'
The news was indeed intriguing. Talon had been trained in many weapons, but had never even seen a tholna. 'Why would I want to pull a foe in close, where he might strike within my kill zone?'
The emir seemed mildly surprised by the question, and appreciative of it. 'In the close combat of a large battle it was surprisingly effective. It was used only as an off-hand weapon, usually with a parry blade. The tholna could be hooked into the shoulder or leg of an opponent, to throw him off balance. Originally, it was developed by the wyrmlings-used to grasp fleeing humans.'
Talon considered. The parry blade was a short sword with a round guard so large that it was almost as big as a targe. In close combat, where hundreds of men might be fighting at once, the parry blade was an effective stabbing weapon, for it was difficult to avoid an expert blow.
'An interesting combination of weapons,' Talon said. 'But I do not think they would be of much use in our war against wyrmlings.'
'No,' the emir said, 'which is why they lost popularity.'
The company began to move out, and Talon prepared to march with it.
The emir asked, 'May I walk with you?'
'Me?' Talon asked. She could not understand why he would want to.
'I need to learn the tongue of the small folk,' the emir said. 'I was hoping that you could teach me?' Talon wondered why he did not just ask one of his warriors. Several men among the warrior clans had been bound into one, and thus knew how to speak Rofehavanish. As if divining her thoughts the emir added, 'I could ask one of my men, but to tell the truth, you are more pleasant to look upon.'
The compliment took Talon off guard and left her feeling weak in the knees.
She found the emir attractive. He was a widower, and therefore available. But she had never considered herself worthy of his attention.
Nevertheless, they were both of marriageable age, and among the warrior clans, men and women were taught to wed the strongest possible mate.
The Emir Tuul Ra was older than Talon, but he was blessed with a face and figure that were somehow timeless. He could have been any age between thirty and forty-five. Though he had a daughter just a few months older than Talon, she found him beguiling, and she imagined him to be young. She imagined that he had married as a young teen, as royals often did in his land.
Talon was eighteen years old-a free woman on her world, old enough to select her own husband-and she was considered to be of prime breeding age and stock.
The emir took her elbow gently, and walked beside her in a courtly manner.
She smiled shyly, and walked with him, pointing out things-grass, trees, sky, sun-and teaching him their Rofehavanish names.
The emir listened intently and experimented with each word, trying it on his tongue. He turned out to be a marvelously adept student, for in his youth he had been forced to master several languages. More important, he was from the ruling caste in his own land, and thus had been bred for intelligence. Thus, his forefathers had been selected not just to be great warriors, but to be men of sound character and deep wisdom.
They walked along for a pair of hours, Talon trying to match the emir s faster pace, until at last they reached the front of the column, matching stride for stride. The emir learned with surprising rapidity, and kept demanding to learn more, as if he hoped to master the Rofehavanish tongue in a single day.
He feels an onus is upon him, she realized. His every muscle is strung as tight as a bow. He has an entire nation to save, and he thinks that knowing this language might be the key.
At Talon s back, Alun and Siyaddah were lost in their own conversation, and time and again the war dogs came boiling around them all in a pack.
But as they talked, Talon heard one man a few rows behind question loudly, 'Where are we going? Ah, this is madness! Who is in charge here?'
She realized that she had been hearing similar grumbles farther off all morning long, and she herself had wondered who was in charge, but the emir s lessons had captured her attention and taken her mind from the problem.
The emir rounded and called, 'Halt! Halt! Everyone gather around!' He leapt up on a fallen tree. The bark had stripped away over the years, so that the bole was bleached whiter than a skull. The Wizard Sisel came to stand at the emir s back on the right, and Daylan Hammer to his left. Thus, with the emir having some elevation, it felt almost as if they had formed a natural amphitheater. The crowd began to gather around. There was nervousness in the air. Talon found herself backing away, farther into the crowd, hoping to assess its mood.
'There is grumbling among you,' the emir said-loudly, so that he could be heard by all who were pleased to listen. 'You are worried, as you should be. You ask, Where are we going?' At that there were grunts of assent and wise nods. ' Who leads us now, and by what right? Our king is dead. Warlord Madoc is dead. Why are we traveling north, when the way is blocked?'
They were good questions all, Talon knew.
'I will tell you,' the emir said. 'No one leads us now.' At that the folks in the crowd glanced from side to side, and some shook their heads. It was a problem that they had never faced before. 'Here in our hour of greatest need, no one leads us.'
'You should lead us!' one of the young warlords cried in a husky voice, and there were cheers from many. But almost instantly Warlord Madoc s sons shouted, 'No! No!' and their supporters chimed in, while others hissed and jeered.
Talon was astonished by the ferocity of their response. The Emir Tuul Ra had always been a man of high station, well liked by the people. But many a peasant shook a fist in the air and adamantly rejected the notion that he should lead.
'Who are you to tell us what to do?' an old woman demanded at Talon s side. Others cried, 'Madoc! Clan Madoc!'
Old warlords raised their axes in the air and began to chant, 'Madoc! Madoc! Madoc!'
Talon felt bewildered, and had to wonder why so few would support the emir. In part, she suspected that it was because he was foreign-born and had lost his own war against the wyrmlings.
But the people didn t just seem to be rising up against him. There was genuine support for Clan Madoc.
Old Warlord Madoc had been a bold man, it was true, but his character had been flawed. He had gained popularity among the lesser lords by flattering them and offering bribes. If the Madocs took power, many a man would find himself given an office that he was not fit for, shoving aside men who were wiser and better qualified. The resulting upheaval, in this difficult time, would be a disaster.
But it wasn t just secondary posts that Talon had to worry about. Madoc s sons were not their father s equal-not in courage, not in battle prowess, not in wisdom or intelligence or cunning.
But apparently some of the lords did not care. So long as the bribes continued and undeserved wealth and honors flowed into their hands…
'Emir Tuul Ra!' Talon cried. 'Emir Tuul Ra!' A few others raised the chant, and some old woman turned to Talon and raged, 'Shut your mouth, damn you. You don t know what you re saying!'
But Talon cried all the louder, and soon tempers were flaring. In some knots, weapons were drawn. It almost
