Jayr strapped on two scabbards and stepped into the circle with a warrior a foot taller than she was and three times her weight.

Phillipe thought the bout would be over quickly, and it was. Jayr ducked under her opponent's initial attack, knocked his sword from his grasp, and hooked one of her feet behind his knee. She slammed the pommel of her sword into the center of his chest, and he went reeling out of the circle.

All this had taken place in a matter of ten or fifteen seconds.

Scarlet eyed him. "I can read your thoughts like a sorrily scraped palimpsest. You didn't see her pivot around him, did you?"

He focused as another opponent stepped into Jayr's ring. "I will this time."

Watching carefully, Phillipe saw Jayr offer the traditional salute, shift to a responsive rather than aggressive stance, and wait for the opponent to attack. He lunged, she parried, he lunged a second time, she parried again. Although the male was attacking, Jayr was actually gaining ground each time she countered, inching him backward.

Phillipe thought she was being foolhardy, neglecting her cover inside and out while she depended entirely on her parrying. Still, the blade never came within a foot of her body, even when she left a tantalizing opening for him to pierce.

"She is taunting him," he muttered.

Scarlet nodded. "That is the defender's advantage."

"She is not defending herself," Phillipe insisted. "She is attacking by luring him in with false openings. A moment before he attacks the opening closes, and she uses a parry like a hammer to drive him back. And the way she moves..." He frowned.

"How does she do it?"

"That I have asked frequently." Scarlet scowled. "She says it is nothing, only her style of fighting. The speed is her talent. No one is faster."

"I have never seen anything so deliberate," Phillipe said, seeing now the faint blurs where there should have been discernible motion. Jayr moved swifter than the eye could follow. "Nor so devious."

"Neither have I. I fought her once, you know. Our men still joke about my defeat." Scarlet straightened. "Look, here is that Italian's pet dwarf."

Phillipe followed his gaze and saw Nottingham's short, red-haired seneschal stride into the lists. "What is his name?"

"Scarf, Scruff." His friend made a dismissive gesture. "Who cares?"

"Brother!" The Italian's seneschal made a beeline for Jayr's sparring circle, stopping at the edge. Ignoring the common courtesy of not addressing someone inside the sparring ring, he cried, "Why did you not send word that you are all training? I would have been among the first here."

Jayr did not spare him a glance, but several men of the Realm gave him filthy looks. To speak to someone engaged in a bout was a distraction tactic, and considered by all to be beyond rude.

Phillipe felt puzzled. He didn't know how things were done in Florence, but seneschal always trained as soon as the sun set, to take advantage of the twilight hour before their masters rose.

"He calls her brother," Scarlet mused. "This could prove amusing."

"I am Skald, seneschal of Lord Nottingham." He grinned as if blind to the scowls being directed at him. He drew an epee that looked more like a riding crop than a weapon and brandished it, swiping at the air with theatrical zeal. "I am known as the finest swordsman in Florence."

A short silence descended over the men."The finest, or the smallest?" someone drawled.

Another spit on the ground. "The loudest."

"I will be next in the circle," Skald announced, apparently also deaf to his critics. He shrugged out of his velvet jacket, revealing an ornate leather-and-brass chest protector that had been joined at the bottom with a large codpiece, also made of brass that had been styled to resemble a wide, erect phallus.

Phillipe felt a twinge of pity as laughter rang out, and Skald joined in, unaware that he was the object of the amused scorn.

"Tell me," Scarlet asked in a very grave tone, "do my eyes deceive me, or is this peahen sporting more steel in his crotch than in his fist?"

"Your eyes are painfully honest." Phillipe rose as he watched Skald still whipping his blade, now dangerously close to crossing into the circle. The vain seneschal seemed unaware that he was intruding on an ongoing bout, something considered unforgivable in the lists. "Will."

"I see him, the damned fool." Scarlet was on his feet and moving.

Before they could reach Skald, Jayr's opponent released a shout of fury. Phillipe saw a long line of red appear across the man's upper back, and his sword arm go limp. Skald had cut through several muscles.

"Oh, dear. Excuse my interference, brother." Skald retreated up several steps, lowered his bloodstained epee, and took out a handkerchief to wipe the blade. He pulled a face as the wounded man conceded to Jayr. "I did not mean it, you know. I fear my eagerness would precede me into battle."

Before Skald could cross over into the circle, Scarlet stepped in front of him and folded his arms. "Have it precede you into the keep, little one."

"I cannot, brother, for I have issued a challenge. Jayr is to fight me," Skald insisted, hopping up as he tried to see over Scarlet's shoulder. "You will engage me, will you not?"

Jayr did not answer, but turned her back on Skald and asked her wounded opponent if he required her assistance. He refused and withdrew, giving Skald a wide berth as he left the lists.

"I don't understand," the short seneschal said. "What is wrong? Is it something I said?"

A flare of purple glittered in Jayr's gaze before it subsided. "Navarre, can I interest you in a match?"

He eyed her men, who had formed a living, motionless wall between Skald and the circle where he and Jayr stood. "You can."

"When you are ready, sir." She moved to the inner edge of the circle, and correspondingly her men moved out, widening their ring of protection so that they were out of blade range.

Phillipe heard Skald's emphatic protests as he drew his sword, rotated his wrist to ease the tension in his arm, and stepped into the ring. "On your guard, mademoiselle."

Their blades met in the center of the circle, locking at the hilts. Phillipe felt the strength in her arm coiling to overpower his before they broke apart. He kept his gaze steady as he parried and thrust, standing almost completely still, the gap between them barely reaching the measure of a blade and a half.

"First blood," Jayr said after she feinted right.

Phillipe felt the burn of copper across the top of his shoulder and blinked. Her arm had been a blur; he hadn't seen the hit before she had struck. "How do you move so?"

Her mouth hitched. "I have excellent motivation."

He used a series of short, brutal thrusts to chase her in a half circle; she turned it around and beat him back in the other direction. Just as Phillipe began to wonder if he had any real chance of prevailing over her, the air turned chilly and a man's voice called out, "Halt!"

Jayr nodded to him and they drew back to opposite sides of the circle, planting the tips of their swords in the ground. Phillipe saw the air around her shimmer briefly, as it did above the roadway on a hot day. She made a quick gesture, and the men encircling them parted, affording them a view of what was happening.

In another circle, Will Scarlet looked down the length of his sword at Skald, who lay dazed and bleeding on the ground.

Nottingham came to stand at the edge of the circle.

"This match is over," the Italian said, bending down to grab the back of his seneschal's collar and using it to drag him to his feet.

"You will attend me now."

"Yes, master." Skald bobbed an awkward bow and tried to sheath his epee. Blood from the closing cuts on his hands made them slippery, and he dropped the sword twice.

Nottingham seized the blade and flung it away.

Phillipe saw a smear of movement dart around him and stream across the lists. Jayr appeared in front of the Belgian Will had fought earlier, who had his back toward Nottingham, and snatched the hurtling epee a moment before it would have ran him through. She rammed the weapon into the ground as smoke rose in wisps from her shoulders and legs.

Nottingham said something succinct and contemptuous in Italian before turning on his heel and returning to the keep. Skald babbled excuses as he hobbled after him.

"Seneschal," someone called out. "Your hair."

Jayr put a hand to her head and disappeared in another streak, reappearing beside the water barrel. As her hair burst into flames, she dunked her head inside, extinguishing them. The sizzle echoed around the lists.

"Mon Dieu." Phillipe hurried over to her.

Jayr straightened and shook her head, wiping the water from her face. She saw Phillipe and offered him a wry look. "I think I must concede to you, Navarre."

The burned straps of her chest protector chose that moment to snap. She caught the armor before it fell to the ground.

Phillipe gaped.

"I thank you for the match," she said, as if nothing unusual had happened, and bowed. "You are an interesting opponent."

He stared at the scorched straps. "As are you, mademoiselle."

She gave him a half smile, passed the ruined chest protector to one of her men, and retreated to the keep.

Will came to stand beside him. "That was nicely done. Congratulations. You've just become a legend around here."

"It was pure charity on her part." Phillipe seriously doubted he could have beaten Byrne's seneschal. He recalled the shimmer around her when they had stopped fighting. "She creates heat when she moves so quickly. If she does so too long, the heat burns her. That is why her hair caught on fire."

Will consulted the clouds overhead. "The light, it finally dawns."

Phillipe grew thoughtful. "She cannot use her talent while she is riding. That is why she enters only the joust during the tournaments. No one could prevail over someone who can move faster than the eye can see."

"Jayr thinks it an unfair advantage in a real contest," Scarlet assured him. "She is like my master that way."

Phillipe suspected that much of what Jayr did was not what it seemed. "She will have to use it if she is to keep Skald from decorating someone's steel. He delights in spreading mischief like the pox."

"Aye." Scarlet stroked his chin. "Almost as if he were ordered to."

Chapter 12.

"Relax." Alexandra sat down next to the exam table and switched on the blocky machine. "This will be a lot easier on you than the pelvic was. After this I'll administer the first shot, and then we'll see what happens."

Jayr glanced at the monitor atop the machine, and then stiffened as the doctor plugged in the cord attached to a large, phallic- shaped device. "Does that thing go inside me?"

"Not unless you're pregnant, which I think we can check off as a permanent no on your chart." Alexandra picked up a tube and pulled back the drape over Jayr's lower abdomen. "I'm going to rub the end of it against your tummy. But first I get to smear you with some cold, icky gel."

She had not specified where the gel would go.

"Perhaps we could do this another time." Jayr tried to sit up. "My master must be wondering where I am."

"The gel stays on the outside this time, I promise." Alexandra gave her a pointed look. "Quit being so uptight and medieval.

Modern women have these exams twice a year."

"They do?" Remembering the horrors of the speculum, she lay back against the pillows and closed her eyes. "I am ready." She clenched her fists at her sides.

Alexandra muttered something under her breath before she applied the gel, which was cold. "Don't tense up now. Think about something else. Tell me about your job; Phil never talks about it."

"I am my lord Byrne's seneschal," Jayr answered. "His third blade, the eyes at his back."

"You're reminding me of a really creepy Stephen King story I read once," Alexandra said. "But so much for the job title. What do you guys do?"

"A seneschal must be prudent and faithful and profitable," Jayr said, remembering the charges laid out in the Seneschaucie, which she had studied more faithfully than she had the Holy Scriptures. "We are to know the law of the land, to protect our lord's business interests, and to instruct the household on how to adhere to their restrictions. We oversee the rents, services, and customs, deal with the merchants, issue franchises, collect tithes, and distribute endowments." She sucked in a breath as she felt the bumpy end of the device touch her stomach. "Are you certain we cannot do this next week?"

"Keep talking. Don't tense up like that."

"We-we deal with humans who cannot be avoided, so that our lord need not." Jayr felt a faint hum spread over her stomach and forced her muscles to go lax. "We enforce Kyn law, and the rule of privacy among the jardin. We train tresori as well as the lord's personal guard and garrison. We escort our lord and shield him from harm. We attend to his needs and the needs of his guests." She heard Alexandra make a strange sound and opened her eyes. "What is it, my lady? Is there something wrong with me?"

"Yeah. If you could cook, you'd be every man's wet-dream wife." She moved the device down to Jayr's right hip, spreading the gel with it. "Does Phil do all that stuff for Michael?"

"I would assume so. Navarre is known as an exemplary seneschal," Jayr said. "Often I have heard other seneschal say that they have consulted with him on matters of estate, and his advice has greatly aided them." She thought of how well he had conducted himself in the lists. "He is a very good fighter."

"He can arrange a mean vase of flowers, too." Alexandra fiddled with one of the machine's dials. "So when you're not running this place, and obsessing over making every aspect of Byrne's life perfect, what do you do for fun?"

"Fun." Jayr tried to think.

"You know, something for your own enjoyment," she said, adding another dollop of the cold gel to Jayr's skin. "Something you like. Something that doesn't involve your lord and master."

Cyprien's sygkenis still thought like a human. "My duties give me great satisfaction."

"But you've got to have a hobby or something. You can't devote every waking minute to handling stuff for Byrne." Alex pushed the end of the device harder against Jayr's left hip. "Do you ever go shopping, or hang out at the beach, or see a movie?"

"Our merchants deliver. The beaches are dangerous places at night. I do not care to watch moving pictures." Jayr thought of something. "When my lord has no need of me, I will take a long bath and read. I am very fond of Sara Donati's Wilderness novels." She hesitated. "Sometimes I sketch; other times I attempt to compose poetry. That pleases me, I suppose. When it does not bedevil me."

"I'd like to hear some poetry," Alexandra said. "Can you recite it off the top of your head?"

"It is not very good," Jayr warned her. "Most of it does not rhyme."

"Like I'm a critic." Alex moved the device down to a spot just above her mound. "Come on, kid, hit me with a dirty limerick or something."

Jayr recalled a short piece she had written at the beginning of the winter, and repeated it out loud: "We live in darkness, cold and dead, and wish for the light, warm and alive but from darkness came the heavens as the night bears the dayand winter frost the summer bounty.

What will come from the Darkkyn will be tender and new, a light more radiant and giving than the sun, and the souls against whom we sinned will at last bless our name."