Vlandar and Malowan both were willing to explain to an untutored villager why they chose one applicant over another. A noble who had proven sword-skill and an impressive background against local road thieves was turned down.
“Hobric can’t get beyond the fact he’s noble, so he feels hemust be in charge, even if he hasn’t the skills of a leader,” Vlandar told Lhorsafter the man had stormed out of the barracks. “Also, he goes nowhere withouthis personal servant. The creature’s said to be part orc and nowhere near sowell trained as he believes it to be.”
“It has eaten men,” Malowan said with distaste, “and it isnot a servant. It is a slave, and even though it is a dreadful creature, no one should have the right to enslave another. If Hobric and that brute go with Vlandar, I do not.”
“What is this?” Vlandar asked suddenly.
Two reed-slender young women clad in rusty browns and greens had entered just as Hobric stormed out. One clutched an unstrung longbow, while the other wore a bundle of short throwing spears over her right shoulder.
“Rangers,” Vlandar murmured to Lhors.
The youth nodded, his eyes wide. Not just rangers by the look of them, but identical twins. As they came across the small room, he could see long, neat, very pointed ears rising from their thick dark hair. One of the women had her hair bundled back into a long plait, and her sister confined hers with a leather thong. Both wore small silver hair-brooches shaped like an oak and thistle above their right ears.
Try as he might, Lhors could only tell them apart by the hair and the different pattern of brown-on-brown checkered shirts they both wore over plain trousers that were almost baggy enough to be taken for skirts. Two pairs of incredible, slightly slanted, green eyes met his curiously, then moved on.
“Warrior, I am Rowan,” the bow wielder said in a low, huskyvoice, “and this is my sister, Maera. We hear you’re hoping to teach theSteading a lesson.”
The other spoke in a slightly reedier voice. “We’re rangers,as you’ve no doubt guessed already. I am told you knew our father, Anaerich ofKet?”
“I met Anaerich some years ago.” Vlandar half-stood so hecould bow. “I wasn’t aware he was Kettish-or that there were elves or half-elvesin Ket.”
“There aren’t many,” Maera said. “Our father left Ket longyears ago.”
Rowan smiled faintly. “We want to help if you’re going afterthe Steading. What those overgrown brutes did to our forest last spring is appalling. We’ve certain useful skills beyond tracking and woodcraft.”
“Such as?” asked Vlandar.
“We will demonstrate, if you wish,” Rowan replied with a mischievous smile.Motioning the others to follow, she and her sister strode back into the yard.
Lhors accompanied Vlandar and watched in fascination as Rowan strung her bow and slipped an arrow to the string. Lhors had scarcely looked up to the target on the far wall before Maera’s javelin quivered squarely in thecenter of the tiny white patch. Rowan laughed, pulled the nocked arrow to her cheek, and loosed in one swift motion. Her arrow quivered in the center of the javelin’s haft.
“We’ve been rangers for twenty-four years,” Maera explained.“We know how to work with a team, warrior.”
“Say no more,” Vlandar said, grinning widely. “A man would bea fool to turn down rangers. We’ll leave as soon as we can, so stay in touch. Ifyou have any particular needs as far as gear or supplies, let Malowan here know. He’ll see you get whatever you need.”
“Elves?” Lhors asked after the twins had gone.
Vlandar nodded. “Half-elven, but any elf blood means you’rean elf. And rangers… a thief like young Agya can move unnoted around a cityor a slum, but those two could make her look clumsy. We’ll be fortunate to havethem.” He grinned as Lhors nodded with enthusiasm. “For their talents, boy.They’re well over twice your seventeen years, even if they don’t lookit.”
Lhors blushed.
They both turned toward the door as someone yelled, “Getyourself out of my way, wench! I have business in here!”
Lhors heard Rowan snarl something that left a foppish young man red-faced and sputtering. The rangers bowed sarcastically, then left as the man stomped into the barracks and stared around with visible distaste.
“Mercy on us,” Vlandar said to Lhors mildly, but his lipstwitched. “It’s a hero.”
“He looks like one,” Lhors replied, eyes wide as he studiedthe fellow.
“I am Arkon,” the newcomer announced loudly. His voice wasconsiderably deeper than it had been when he had yelled at the rangers. He wore silk-a brilliantly red shirt with bloused sleeves and sleek black trouserstucked into knee-high boots. Black leather gauntlets covered his arms halfway to the elbow. The pommels of his daggers and the basket hilts of his matched swords were gold-washed, as were the daggers thrust into his belt and his boots. “Arkonthe Adamant is here to seek one Vlandar, who has need of my ser-” His voicecracked.
Vlandar bent down to adjust one of his boots and hide a grin, but a splutter of laughter escaped Malowan. The young man snarled a particularly filthy curse and whipped both swords out, revealing wavy zhosh blades.
Vlandar sighed heavily and got up to intercept him. “I amVlandar,” he said as he began to ease the young man back outside, “and captainof these barracks. This is no place to provoke a fight.”
Malowan suddenly and quietly slipped onto the cot next to Lhors. “Aaaaugh,” the paladin mumbled. “It was too much to hope the young foolwouldn’t have heard about this.”
Lhors blinked. “But all those blades,” he whispered, “and abow and javelins! He must really be good. Isn’t that what you want?”
Malowan nodded. “If he was a tenth of what he appears to be,yes. He’s not, though. Oh, he’s good enough with the swords. You’d be impressed,if you saw him in a duel against a pack of drunken thugs. His mothers paid for his dueling masters since he was a boy. She’s the one who sees he has fancyclothes and expensive weapons, and she’s noble. Few men of the noble or commonrank would risk offending her by injuring her precious boy.”
Lhors eyed Arkon the Adamant, who now stood arguing with Vlandar. Full sun fell on a face that might be considered handsome.
“If I were a swordsman,” Lhors ventured cautiously, “I wouldnot wear sleeves like that. My opponent’s blade might catch in them.”
“You remember what Vlandar’s been telling you,” Malowan saidwarmly. “Good lad. What else?”
“He looks very wealthy. That’s foolish, unless you want toattract thieves.” Lhors sighed. “And he was rude to the rangers. That wasn’tnecessary.”
“He is wealthy, or his widowed mother is. She buys anythinghe asks for, and when he gets into trouble with his shiny toys, she blames his companions who must have led him astray. He picks his fights carefully and never fights anyone better than he.”
“He’s not a hero?” Lhors asked.
Malowan nodded. “He’s a fraud and not even named Arkon. Hisreal name is Plowys, after his mother’s brother.”
A sharp, angry curse brought the paladin around, hands out. The young noble had come back in, unnoticed by either Lhors or Malowan.
“Your pardon, young Arkon,” the paladin said smoothly. “I wasnot aware you were eavesdropping.”
“If you mean to imply that I was sneaking about, listening toyour gossip…” the youth said angrily.
“I imply nothing,” Malowan said evenly as Vlandar came backinto the barracks, where he could step between them. “I merely wonder that yourmother Plovenia would allow you to go twenty paces beyond the city gates in any company whatever. I doubt her purse strings or her apron strings stretch so far.”
“You insult my lady mother?” Plowys demanded.