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It was the rough group of men who had talked about her brother, all six of the ones who had been there the previous night, plus two more. But they were two of the ones who had attacked her! The sight of them set her heart pounding, and it was all she could do not to turn tail and run.

And they had noticed her too. “Will you look there,” one of them said. “Toma, it’s the wildcat Lucas saved.”

The other one was looking her over with his cold eyes. “Yes,” he agreed. “I guess we bruised her. But I seem to recall we had unfinished business.”

“Sit down,” Burle told them gruffly. “This is a decent establishment. If you’ve got something to settle with the pretty little wench, we’ll see to it later.” He turned to Tiarra and winked. “Fill us up and keep ’em full, girly, and we’ll be especially good to you tonight.”

Tiarra was angry, disgusted at these beasts who acted as though they had a right to treat her as they pleased. But she was scared too, like she’d never been before. She knew they would linger. They would be waiting for her when she left, or they would follow her out if they stayed that long. And she could not count on that strange man, Lucas, from St. Thomas’s to be there for her this time.

She went to Vale with her plea. “Let me go, please. These are the ones who hurt me.”

He shook his head. “They’d likely follow you out, girl. You don’t want that. Wait it out. Maybe Mikal’ll come again. But there ain’t much I can do. Just stay here. They’ll get tired of waiting around eventually and move on.”

But she knew better. She knew by the eyes of the big one and the one named Toma what they had in mind. And they would not be willing to leave without it.

It was a torturous night, serving them drinks and trying to keep out of reach of their filthy hands. They talked and they laughed. They said they should hunt down that Lucas and skin him alive, since he’d become trouble to them in this town.

And they cursed Tahn Dorn and his young friend. They said they were like women to go and work as guardsmen for a noble house. And they laughed about him being in this town again, wondering out loud if he still screamed in his dreams.

It chilled her, making it nearly impossible for her to think of her work. She tripped once. She spilled things three times. But for once, Vale said nothing. He was scared, she knew he was, that they might start something right here in the tavern. He wouldn’t be much help—he couldn’t be against so many. And if it came to that, he’d far sooner leave with his life than risk losing it for her.

Other customers came and went, but the men at the back table lingered. Tiarra found herself wishing she had a strong poison to top off their drinks and kill them all where they sat.

But finally, Burle rose to his feet. “Any of you who can still ride had better come with me,” he told his band. He nodded to Tiarra with a smile and another wink. “Be seein’ you again.”

They were going out, every one of them, without incident or another hand in her direction. Vale was breathing relief, but Tiarra was not comforted at all. She could hear their horses leaving, but she knew it was not done.

She stayed at the tavern longer than she ever had, hoping Vale would let her stay till daylight. But after a while, he called her to him. “You’d better go home,” he said. “You stayed past your time already. Martica will be sore wondering at you.” He was silent for a moment and then added, “We heard ’em leaving with their horses. They’re well gone.”

She stepped into the black night, glancing over the rooftops in the direction of St. Thomas’s. But the sight of it made her angry somehow in a way she didn’t understand. What if those men
were
out here somewhere? What if they killed her? What was there so good to live for anyway? The hungry eyes of children, and a brother who wouldn’t even give her the truth?

The only thing so bad about dying might be the letting them get it done. Better that they be accosted themselves, that they might know what it felt like.

She ran down the street like a cat, wary of every shadow. At the head of the second street, she heard horses and turned to go the other way, but it was too late.

“There she is!” someone yelled.

One of them ran from the doorway of a building, another two from behind a fence. The others were still on their horses, and two of them drove their mounts into her path, cutting off her retreat. She screamed and started to fight, knocking away the first one who reached her on foot. But a strong man on a horse grabbed her and was pulling her up to him. They would just carry her off, do what they wanted, and leave her in some ditch somewhere. She tried to wrench her arm from the man’s grasp but could not get away.

Suddenly there was the rush of other horses. She barely saw the dark shadow of a man who leaped from his mount at the bandit that held her. She landed in the dirt, and they were right beside her. She knew the long hair of the man on top, and she shivered and jumped to her feet. Tahn Dorn? Her brother? Come to save her?

One of the other bandits rushed in their direction, and she punched at him with a wild scream. Then she saw that the blond man was there too, standing beyond her and holding off another bandit with the point of his sword.

“Brothers!” Tahn shouted with a cry that pierced her. “Leave in peace. You will gain nothing here.”

She stood and stared at him as the biggest man stepped from his horse and approached them.

“This is nothing to you, Tahn! Get out!”

“No,” Tahn told him. “You’re leaving. All of you.”

Burle laughed, the drink emboldening him. “You and Lucas are so high and mighty. I don’t know what the devil happened to you, but we don’t interfere in
your
doings. You’ve got no business in ours! I told you about a quarrel, Tahn. You’re coming very close to getting yourself one.”

“You’ve got two minutes this time,” Tahn said with icy intensity.

But Burle just laughed again. “That’s not gonna work this time around! We’re not afraid of you. Look at how many’s with me. You’ve got nothing but Lorne and that feisty little tavern wench!”

Lorne had pulled Tahn’s sword from Smoke’s back and tossed it into his hand.

“You’ve got one minute now,” Tahn said.

“He’s got the fire in him,” one of the bandits said nervously.

But Burle wasn’t about to back down. “I can’t let you rule me, Tahn. I’m never going to let any man rule me again! This is my town now, and I’ll do what I want here, no matter who puts himself in the way. I curse you and Lucas, and Lorne! Why don’t you go back where you came from?”

“I already have.” Tahn pulled his sword from its sheath with a prayer in his heart.
You know I don’t want to do this, Lord! You know I don’t want to shed blood. Help me! I can’t just let them do what they will!
He looked at his sister, with her fiery eyes and doubled fists. “Stay by my horse,” he told her. But she didn’t even seem to hear him.

“Get around ’em, men!” Burle shouted. “If they aim to fight, they won’t any of ’em escape!”

He and Morrey rushed Tahn, and swords clashed. Morrey fell first, but another man took his place. Lorne was just as occupied, struggling to keep back two. Toma rushed forward, still determined to get his hands on Tiarra, but Tahn slashed his arm from behind. Tiarra kicked her attacker to the ground and ripped the sword from his side. By that time, Lorne had a man down. Then Tahn thrust at Burle, and the big man lost his balance. Tahn was standing so close over him, he tried to come up with a thrust of his own, but Tahn cast his point deep into his shoulder and then spun around to push away the man behind him.

“Give it up, Burle!” Tahn pleaded. “Or I’ll have to kill you.”

All around them the fighting stopped. There were two men still with the horses. Of the six other bandits, four of them were wounded. Toma backed away from Tiarra, and two of the others retreated toward their horses.

Burle sat and stared at his bloody shoulder, his sword arm now weakened. “The fight’s yours tonight,” he said, pulling himself up slowly. “But curse you, Tahn! It’s not over! I’ve got more men. I’ll not let you do this to me!” His own oozing blood was making him feel faint. He turned and looked at one of the uninjured men. “Get me my horse!” he yelled. Then he turned back to Tahn. “You’d better leave this town! I’ll find a way to kill you and that stupid wench, and anybody fool enough to help you. There’s more of us. You know there is! And you’ve got yourself a quarrel now.”

“She’s my sister,” Tahn told him with quiet steel.

As though his words were a fiery sword, all of the men moved to their horses, some of them already riding away. But Tiarra still held a sword in her hand. She hadn’t gotten to use it. Quickly, she moved to the injured man who trailed the rest and lifted the weapon high. But Tahn was behind her and caught her by the wrists. The sword fell to the dust, and she turned to him with angry eyes.

“Are you all right?” he asked abruptly. “It doesn’t help to fall on their backs. It doesn’t make you feel any better.”

She stood silent, fuming at him, but knowing just the same that he had saved her life.

He turned to his friend. “How bad is it?”

Tiarra spun around in surprise. She hadn’t realized that the blond man was hurt. But he was losing blood from his left arm.

“I’ll be all right,” he said. “God is with us.” But he sat down in the street beside an iron hitch post.

Tiarra watched her brother take water and a cloth from his horse. He cut Lorne’s sleeve to expose the wound, washed it out, and then held the cloth tightly over it. “You need to go back to Onath,” he told his friend.

“There’s no way I’m leaving you here alone!”

Tiarra watched them, still uncertain what sort of men they were, grateful as she was. They knew those bandits.

Tahn had even called them brothers.

“I’m going home,” she told them suddenly.

“Not alone,” Tahn told her. “You will wait for us. We’ll take you.”

He didn’t ask her permission. He just said how it would be. But she didn’t argue.

“Lucas has been here,” he told Lorne. “God be praised for him! If he’s here yet, we’ll have to find him.”

Tiarra glanced toward St. Thomas’s. Should she tell him? Was he a true friend to the someday-priest? “Who is Lucas?” she decided to ask.

“Like a brother,” Tahn answered. “We were warriors together once, all of us.” He turned and saw her uncertain eyes. “I’m sorry for what’s happened. We’d best get you home.”

He wrapped Lorne’s arm carefully and helped him mount. Then he took Smoke’s rein and turned to Tiarra. “Is it far?”

“Not bad.”

“If you can ride—”

“I don’t need to ride.”

He held the rein out to her. “You may.”

“No.” She abruptly turned away from him and started walking. They followed, she knew it, with the blond on his horse and her brother walking, leading his mount. Could he not ride if she chose to walk? It infuriated her. She fought the tears in her eyes and the questions churning inside. How could he seem so good? And why was she being hateful toward him anyway? She should tell him Lucas was at St. Thomas’s. She knew she should. It seemed they had a common enemy. But she was unwilling to trust him. Their father had been so clever at seeming good too. Tahn Dorn must be lying about his past in Alastair. He must be. Or Martica was. And that would make no sense.

When they reached Vermeel Street, Tahn knew the house they would go to. He watched his sister quicken her pace toward the home of the old artist, and he wondered all the things that the woman could tell him, if only she would.

But Tiarra wondered how Tahn would react to Martica after she’d screamed them away before. And she was equally concerned for Martica’s reaction. It would be better, certainly, not to bring these men inside. She stopped in the street and pointed. “There it is,” she said. “Thank you for seeing me here. You should go now.”

But Tahn hadn’t stopped. “Not yet.”

“She’s been sick,” Tiarra protested. “You shouldn’t come in.”

He was studying the little old house in the darkness, remembering how it looked in his dream. So much fresher. “Have you lived here always?”

“No,” she answered with some venom. “I had a mother once.”

Tahn turned and looked at her. That bitterness might always exist between them. But he dared to ask more anyway. “Is the woman kin to us?”

Tiarra didn’t want to answer his questions. Still, it didn’t seem right to deny him when he’d just rescued her. She would try. Maybe he would go away peacefully then. “She’s no kin.

A friend of my mother’s.”

“What has she told you about me?”

“That you are a killer.” She knew he would react to that. He would have to.

“In God’s grace, people change.” He held the horse as Lorne dismounted.

It frightened her that he did not deny it. It frustrated her that they were not leaving, despite her request. What should she do? She couldn’t ask them in. Martica wouldn’t have it.

She heard coughing inside the house and turned her head.

“Let me in with you to see her,” Tahn said. “I have many questions.”

“She doesn’t want to talk to you. We can’t trust you, whether you fight bandits or not.”

“For God’s sake!” Lorne exclaimed. “You know he won’t hurt you! Why can’t you talk with him?”

Lorne’s earnest eyes constrained her. Could they both carry a deception this completely? Martica would have to understand that they’d helped her.

But the old woman had heard voices and was not happy about it. As their footsteps crossed the first room, she cried out, “Child! What are you thinking to bring strangers into the house?”

“The bandits were at me again,” Tiarra said hurriedly. “These men helped me, Martica.”

“You needn’t bring them home at night!” The old woman looked up as Tiarra entered. And right behind her came Tahn Dorn.

“Get out of my house,” she said immediately.

“Please, Martica,” Tiarra cried. “He saved my life tonight.” Martica stared at him a long while, puzzling over what to do. She wouldn’t have expected such a deed. Why should he help anyone in Alastair? And now, Tiarra was beholden to him. But maybe that was the point. “You say it was bandits, child?”