From the shadowed steps of the Temple of Ils a small, lithe figure leaped into the road. There was the glint of metal in its clenched fist. With a wild shout the figure flung out its arms. The horse whinnied in terror, reared, and crashed to a stop.
The rider in the saddle answered with a curse, swung downward with a sword, and made a swift end of the attacker on the ground.
"More behind and coming fast!" the second rider warned, wrapping arms even more tightly about the first rider. "Go, damn it!"
Again, the horse raced onward, past the park called the Promise of Heaven where half-starved women sold their bodies for the price of a lean meal. The beast wheeled to the right and down a street between two dark and immense edifices. A set of massive iron gates loomed.
The first rider jerked sharply on the reins, threw a leg over the mount's head, and jumped to the ground. The second rider slid backward over the damp, lathered rump, stumbled, then sagged to the pavement.
A hood was flung back; a pommel smashed against the unyielding barriers. A voice called out full of desperation and anger. "Father! Let us in! Dayrne-anyone awake!"
"Chenaya!" The second rider rose to a timid crouch and drew a small dagger. "They're coming!"
Four men ran down the street, weapons drawn. Even as they came on, three more emerged from the shadows to join them. Chenaya whirled to face them, cursing. Gods knew what the hell they wanted! This was too much trouble for a common robbery. Perhaps it was vengeance for the two she'd already slain that drove them.
"Get behind me," she ordered, dragging her companion by the arm. Then she put a pair of fingers to her lips, gave a sharp whistle, and called, "Reyk!"
The lead runner gave a choked scream, then a long gurgling cry of frightened pain. He dropped his sword, fell to his knees, beat at his face. But he was much too slow. The falcon, Reyk, climbed back into the sky, leaving the man's eyes in bloody ruin. He winged a tight circle, then settled on his mistress's arm. She sent him aloft once more. "Can't carry you and fight," she whispered tersely. Without turning away she banged her pommel on the gate again. "Father!"
One runner stopped to help his fallen comrade. The rest rushed on. She couldn't make out their features or identify their dress, but she could feel their hatred.
Her companion beat on the gates with a dagger. "Open! For pity's sake, let your daughter in!"
Chenaya ripped off her cloak and drew a second sword. With the two blades she stepped forward to meet her attackers. "All right, you miserable dung-balls!" She twirled the weapons in dazzling double arcs. "I don't know what you want, but I'll play your game. Try to entertain me, you sons of whores!"
Before the first blow could be struck the gates swung wide. Six giants, in various stages of arming themselves, spilled into the street, steel gleaming in their fists. Che-naya's pursuers caught themselves up short, then ran in the other direction, dragging their blinded friend with them. They were quickly swallowed by the damp gloom.
Chenaya spun to face the tallest of the giants. "Dayme, what the hell's going on around here? We've barely arrived in Sanctuary, but we've been attacked twice. Some group hit us in Caravan Square at the end of General's Road. Then these attacked as we came along Governor's Walk. Nobody's on the streets but madmen!"
Dayrne's gaze lingered on her face a bit longer than was proper, and he gave a distinct sigh of relief even as he chewed his lip. "Politics later. Mistress," he said finally as he ushered Chenaya and her hooded companion inside the estate grounds. He paused to make sure the gates were sealed then continued. "Things have gone to hell in the city since you've been gone. We can talk more of it later, but first you must see your father. Lowan Vigeles has been nearly ill worrying about you." His brows knit in consternation. "You promised to return before the onset of winter."
"Something important came up," she answered defensively, avoiding his eyes. She extended her arm again. In the light of the few torches that illumined the interior courtyard the metal rings of her manica glimmered. Again, she whistled. It was impossible to see the bird in the dark, but she heard the soft beat of its pinions, felt the rush of air by her cheek as he took a familiar place on her wrist. Chenaya slipped a jess from her belt and fitted it over Reyk's leg. From another small pocket she extracted a hood to cover his eyes. Only then did she pass him into Dayrne's care. "Have one of the men clean his talons immediately." She stroked her pet. "He scored one of them. Don't let the blood crust. And have someone take care of that poor horse. He's carried the two of us a long way."
Chenaya took her traveling companion by the elbow then and led her across the court. Dayrne gave quick orders to the other men and fell into step behind. As they crossed the grounds she noted how well the restoration of the old estate was progressing. Land's End, the locals called the place, though she was damned if she knew why.
Light streamed through an open doorway. She stepped inside a grand entrance hall and gazed up the wide staircase that curved along the east wall. Lowan Vigeles stood at the top. His face was full of relief at the sight of her, but he couldn't hide his anger.
Two of her gladiators, the former thieves Dismas and Gestus, flanked him according to standing instructions. Lowan was not to be left unguarded during a disturbance. But there was someone else at the top of the stair who she could barely see. The woman seemed to hang back.
Lowan descended the stairs and stopped halfway down. "You've been gone far longer than your three months, Daughter." There was a hard edge to his voice, but it couldn't mask the deeper joy he felt. "You broke your promise. You're long overdue." Then he relented and extended his arms. "Welcome home."
Chenaya unfastened her weapon belt and dropped it at the foot of the stair. She ran up to her father, threw her arms about him, and pressed her head against his shoulder. Lowan Vigeles was a tall man, but the past months had made him appear haggard. He had lost weight and there was little color left in his cheeks. "You worried too much!" she admonished with a whisper only he could hear.
"How much is too much?" he said, letting a hint of his anger show once more. "Things are changing, Chenaya. Law has broken down all over the city. Hell, all over the Empire. You could have been dead and rotting for all I knew."
"I'm sorry, Father," she said honestly. "It couldn't be helped. You know I'd have come home if I could've." And that was enough of that, her tone conveyed without her needing to say more. She regretted having caused him pain, and she knew he had worried, but she wasn't a child. She wouldn't be treated as one, even by her father. She started to remind him of that, then caught a clearer look at the woman above.
It took her by complete surprise. Then, abruptly, a broad grin spread over her face. Chenaya had become immune to shock long ago. Still, she found considerable amusement in the idea that her father might cuckold his own brother.
"Good evening. Lady Rosanda," she said grandly. "How's Uncle Molin these days?"
Rosanda's shy, delicate smile turned to a look of infinite perplexity. Then the older woman blushed hotly and fled from Chenaya's view.
Daughter winked at father. "A chunky little tidbit to ease your worried mind, eh?"
Lowan rapped her lightly on the brow with his fingers. "Don't be impudent, child. She and Molin have separated, and your aunt is quite upset. She's staying here a | few days until she gets herself together."
"By the Bright Light!" Chenaya exclaimed, clapping a hand melodramatically to her heart. "She must be giving Dayrne fits about the housekeeping."