None of the other women got close to him after that.
The raiders were only supposed to divide into two groups. One would go with Blade and Daimarz to kill the queen, the other would go with the Living Fire to stampede the rolghas. In the confusion the two groups quickly became four or five.
Blade killed a man with a downcut, then lost his sword as it stuck in the dead man's skull. Three of the guardswomen charged out of a tent at him. Blade snatched up the dead man's lance and used it as a quarterstaff. He smashed one woman's knee, broke another's arm, then thrust at the third woman's face. She chopped off the lance shaft with her sword, but the stump caught her in the forehead. She reeled, Blade jabbed her in the stomach, then chopped her across the side of the neck with one hand. She fell on top of the other two women, unconscious but still breathing.
During the fight with the women, he'd lost Daimarz. He picked up his sword and started to move on, then saw a shadowy figure inside the tent and heard a whimpering cry. He stepped into the tent and stopped abruptly.
King Manro was kneeling in the middle of the tent, frantically tugging at the chain on his ankle. Blade saw the padlock on the king's leg iron, and the heavy post driven into the ground with the other end of the chain stapled to it. He saw no keys, but there was an ax in the corner.
Blade dropped his sword and snatched up the ax. Before he did anything else, he was going to release poor King Manro and see about getting him away. The Elstani didn't have any quarrel with him, and he'd be safer in their hands than he would be within reach of Queen Tressana.
Blade attacked the post as if it were his deadliest enemy. Splinters flew, the wood around the staples rapidly vanished, and King Manro stared up in silent confusion at the furious giant. At last Blade was able to drop the ax, grip the chain, and jerk it loose.
He turned to help Manro to his feet, but the king jumped up as if he'd sat on a snake. Grabbing the chain, he charged out the door, screaming at the top of his lungs. He nearly impaled himself on the spears of two men running up to see what was going on in the tent. They jumped aside, not sure what they should do to whom. Before they could make up their minds, King Manro was out of sight, not at all slowed down by the chain he was carrying. Then Blade was upon them, working off his anger at Manro's foolishness. He thrust one in the throat and put the other down with a slash to the thigh, then leaped over them and started after the king.
He'd only gone a few steps before he realized that there was no longer much hope of getting Manro away. Even if he could track him through the dark camp, the Jaghdi would have time to rally and prevent escape. It would also keep him too busy to lift a finger to save Tressana.
From somewhere off in the darkness, he heard the screams and neighs of panic-stricken rolghas. The men with the Living Fire must be going to work, although the tents as well as the darkness blocked his view. Blade wiped his sword on one of the dead bodies and started looking at the tents around him. The largest one should be the queen's.
Tressana saw that even in the chilly tent Jollya was sweating. Good. She was afraid. She ought to be. Tressana stepped back and examined the ropes tying Jollya's wrists and ankles to the tent pole. They looked tight enough to hold, perhaps even tight enough to be uncomfortable. She hoped they were.
The shouting outside had penetrated the wine fumes some time ago. As long as no one came to tell her what was going on or ask her for orders, she was going to assume she wasn't needed. She could at least start Jollya's punishment tonight, and that was important. When people saw how Jollya had been punished, they would be too afraid of her to disobey. Then she would have no trouble in finding a way of putting an end to Manro.
Then the rolghas started screaming. That sounded like something she couldn't ignore. Were the Elstani attacking? It was hard to believe that any of the people from the burned-out farms in the area would have the courage and weapons to attack five hundred Jaghdi. But after the Kettle of the Winds she wasn't going to say that anything was impossible.
Jollya would have to wait. If it was Elstani, they could do too much damage. They also might give her a great opportunity. A slash across Manro's throat with an Elstani dagger, and a couple of Elstani bodies sprawled beside his-yes, that promised well.
In spite of the wine, Tressana's fingers were steady as she sheathed her knife and sword, pulled on her helmet, and started doing up her cloak. She was turning toward the door when one of the Men's Guard burst in.
«Lady! Your Grace! Elstani in the camp! They're-«
«Yes, I know. You'll have the honor of-«
A monstrous figure appeared in the door. It was King Manro, coated with mud where he wasn't bleeding from cuts and bruises, one eye closed, nearly naked, and holding the chain on his leg in one hand. Tressana let out a gasp of pure horror.
Manro spoke. Human speech from this figure was nightmarish, but the words were unmistakable. «You're hurting Jollya. Bad Tressana. Bad!»
The soldier moved toward Manro but the king moved faster. The chain whirled and smashed into the soldier's face. It became a red ruin. He collapsed, screaming horribly. Tressana broke out of her paralysis and thrust at Manro. Her sword sank deep between his ribs, but he twisted so violently that she lost her grip on it. She jumped back, but not far enough to escape the chain. It caught her around the left leg and she felt the bone snap as she went down. She rolled to the right, but the chain pulled her back. Manro was on his knees now, coughing blood but groping for something outside her field of vision.
He came up with it in both hands. A footstool, of heavy dark wood. He swung it, and when it caught her knee there was more pain than she'd thought there could be in the whole world. Then he swung it again, and she didn't know where it hit or where the pain was. He swung it a third time, and she saw it coming at her head.
She closed her eyes for a moment. When she tried to open them again she couldn't see anything except darkness. Then the darkness got even darker, although she didn't understand how that could be. She did know that she couldn't see anything at all, but since there wasn't any pain either it balanced out.
By the time Blade thought he knew which tent might be Tressana's, he knew he wasn't going to reach it. He didn't even see much chance of getting out of the camp alive. The forty surviving Elstani were in the middle of a group of Jaghdi who already outnumbered them two to one, with more coming every minute. On foot the Jaghdi were fighting as poorly as ever, but they would soon be able to win by sheer weight of numbers. Blade set about the grim, unrewarding task of taking as many enemies with him as he could.
He killed five men at least, perhaps others, certainly enough to clear a circle around him. No Jaghdi wanted to get within reach of that deadly sword. Blade wiped the blood out of his eyes and started to shout a challenge. He knew what was going to happen next-Jaghdi archers filling him with arrows from out of reach of his sword. He made up his mind not to let that happen and got ready to charge.
Before he could take the first step there was a sudden outburst of shouting among the Jaghdi. Unmistakably, someone was yelling, «Treachery! Treachery! Sikkurad's guards-!» before his voice was cut off. By then the damage was already done. The Jaghdi in front of Blade broke up and scattered like dead leaves whirled away by the wind. Blade stopped bellowing challenges to the Jaghdi and started calling to rally the Elstani. They hurried toward him, most of them showing wounds. Daimarz was among the wounded, one arm bloody but still useful.