Sweep of the Blade

The door chimed.

Maud sat up on the bed, instantly awake, and for a confused moment, tried to open the door with her mind. Then reality sank in: She wasn't back at Dina's inn. She was in her quarters in House Krahr's castle.

She'd dreamt of being small and weak, running for her life through the garden at her parents' inn. Something chased her, something huge and monstrous. She tried to see what it was, but all she could remember were teeth. Enormous teeth as tall as Helen.

The door chimed again.

Maud shook her head, trying to clear the last shreds of the nightmare from her mind. Yesterday she'd stayed in Arland's room way too long. They'd ended up talking about the space station long after Helen had fallen asleep. "Time?" she asked as she pulled on soft sweatpants.

Glowing red numbers ignited on the wall above the fireplace. 9:30. Daesyn had a thirty-hour cycle, each hour being fifty minutes, each minute fifty moments. It was early. In Earth time, around 6:30 am. The door chimed once again.

"Open."

The door slid aside, and Karat swept in wearing black armor. Not her best military set, either. When a military set suffered damage, it was often repaired while in battle or shortly after. Fixing syn-armor required a quiet environment, a lot of time, and a steady hand. Under battle conditions all three were frequently in short supply, which was why war armor showed scars and imperfections. The black set Karat wore now looked like it had just come from a nanite forge. Whatever damage it had suffered had been mended without a trace.

Karat dropped into the nearest chair. "How was my cousin?"

Maud blinked at her.

"You spent most of the night in his rooms."

"You're spying on me."

"Of course we're spying on you. We know you went back to your room with Helen. We also know that the current usage in his room was elevated until well after midnight, which is atypical of him, so we deduced that you dropped off your child and returned via the private passageway. I trust everything went well?"

Vampire cousins. "The armor stayed on."

"What? Why?"

"We're not to that stage of the relationship."

Karat stared at her. "Have you ever?" "No."

"That's absurd. How do you know you're compatible? How could he ask you to marry him without first verifying this?"

"You would have to ask him," Maud growled.

"What were you doing all that time in his rooms?"

"Helen watched a movie. We talked. It was sweet."

"So, you took the child with you...Wait." Karat paused. "Did you just say my cousin was sweet? Arland Krahr? The Bloodmace? The Bone Crusher? The Ravager of Nexus? That Arland?"

"Yes. He was sweet and there was no ravaging." The way he looked at her last night gave her no doubt he wanted to. She wanted to as well, but something held her back. She was like a bridled horse. Every time she thought about it, something tugged on the reins and made her stop.

Karat leaned back and laughed. "That is so not like him. Poor, poor Arland. So far gone."

Maud sighed. "The problem isn't your cousin. The problem is me. He's giving me time."

Karat sobered up. "Yes, of course."

"Is there a point in you coming here and waking me up?"

"Yes." All mirth drained from Karat's face. "Lady Ilemina requests your presence at the Ladies' Communal this morning."

Figured. Maud squared her shoulders. She knew it was coming and here it was. There was no escape.

"Do you have practice armor?" Karat asked.

"I'll wear my usual set."

"Probably for the best. You'll need it. You have about twenty minutes to get ready. We'll need to collect Helen as well. She has labor duty."

"We'll get dressed," Maud said.

***

"Here we go." Karat stopped by the doorway to a large chamber. The older sentinel who'd brought Helen to the feast hall waited in the doorway. Beyond the doorway children played on the floor.

The sentinel's blue eyes sparkled slightly with hidden humor. "Lady Helen."

Lady Helen squared her tiny shoulders. "I'm here for repercussions."

"Indeed." The older vampire produced a small brush and a tube filled with blue gel. "You will squeeze some gel on the floor and scrub it with your brush until all the dirt is removed. You will clean ten stone squares of the floor. You will remain here until your task is complete."

Helen took the little brush and the tube, held her head high, and went inside.

Behind her Maud saw another figure on the floor with an identical brush, his left arm in a plasticast. Vampire justice knew no mercy.

"She will be fine," Karat told her. "Come."

They strode ten yards down the hallway to the large wide-open doors. Beyond the doors lay a lawn of turquoise grass flooded with golden sunshine and bordered by ornamental trees. A three-foot stone wall encircled the lawn, clearly part of a parapet. Beyond the wall, across the stretch of empty air, towers and castle walls rose. They were on top of a mid-level tower.

Vampire women sparred on the grass with practice weapons. Several others watched the sparring. To the side a table stood with refreshments. A typical Ladies' Communal. They would beat up on each other for an hour or so, then drink and gossip. Maud had quite enjoyed Communals before she became a pariah. Once she had proven herself, they were a nice way to catch up with everyone. Today wouldn't be pleasant. Today they would throw her to the dogs, expecting her to cringe and submit. It was a test, one she had to pass.

Tradition dictated that both genders stayed away from each other's Communals. She was on her own.

Karat stopped by the rack of practice weapons.

"We're going to do this nice and easy," she said under her breath. "You and I will spar, then we will drink some fruity drinks and go back. Don't worry."

They really didn't think much of her.

Maud tried the first sword. Too heavy. Too long. Too short. Weighted wrong. The polymer weapons resembled their counterparts down to every minute detail, but they couldn't cut armor. The main danger lay in being bashed with one. A skilled thrust could also cause internal injury despite the armor.

Strikes with practice weapons did leave a red mark, which would fade with time or cleaning. It was an easy way to keep score and many Communals resulted in a long examination of red marks and whether or not the wound would be fatal if a live weapon had been used. The edges of the practice swords weren't exactly sharp, but you could draw blood with one. She'd done it before, just three days ago, when Arland and she had sparred aboard his destroyer. The Marshal had been fascinated with the concept of the buckler and they had spent a good three hours slicing at each other.

There. She found a blade similar to her own. Karat selected a longer, heavier sword, then eyed Maud's choice and went for a shorter blade. Really, now.

Karat strolled to a spot in the grass and hefted her blade. "Don't worry."

Maud positioned herself. "I don't see any vampires from the other Houses here."

"This is a Krahr affair."

"I feel so flattered to be invited."

Karat swung her blade and took a deliberately slow lunge.

Maud looked at her. "I'm not going to dignify that with a parry."

Karat straightened and hissed, "I'm trying to help you."

A red-haired vampire marched toward them, green eyes blazing.

"There is a vampire walking toward us and she looks like she's about to run us over."

Karat glanced over her shoulder. "Faron's piss."

"Is she here for you or me?"

"You." Karat stepped into the vampire's path. "Lady Konstana. You're interrupting."

"Lady Maud!" Konstana pointed her sword at Maud. "Your mongrel child broke my son's arm."

Oh. That.

"I wonder if you would be so kind as to demonstrate to me how she did it." Konstana bared her fangs.

Around them other people stopped sparring and moved aside, clearing the space. They had an audience now.

"Konstana," Karat growled under her breath. "She is human and a guest."

"As you wish," Maud said.

"Step aside, Karat," Konstana ground out.

A muscle jerked in Karat's face. "Do not presume to order me."

"Alvina," a female voice said.

Karat froze.

To the right of them, behind Karat, under a copse of trees, four older vampire women stood. The one who spoke was tall, with broad shoulders and a mane of blond hair cascading all the way past her waist. Her plain practice armor hugged her figure. Her gray eyes were cold. Maud looked into them and saw ice.

"Let our guest partake of the Communal," Lady Ilemina said.

Karat moved out of the way.

Maud walked a few steps farther to the right, giving herself room.

"After I break your arms, you will apologize to me," Konstana said. "For taking up my valuable time."

She was about two inches taller, probably thirty-five pounds or so heavier than Maud, and the way she held her sword indicated the South technique, which meant she would favor slash attacks. Right or left, that was the question. Strike from the left would be better. It was a more powerful attack.

Maud tipped her sword up and checked the point. "Is it a habit of House Krahr to waste time with empty threats?"

Konstana charged, slashing from left to right, aiming for a cut across the chest. It was a good slash, fast and deadly. Maud parried, letting the force of the attack slide off her blade, caught the woman's wrist for a second, yanking her arm into the perfect position, let go, thrust her own sword under Konstana's forearm, and rolled her sword arm up and over Konstana's, trapping the vampire's sword in her armpit. It happened so fast, Konstana had no chance to react. The redirected momentum of her own strike twisted her, and she went down to one knee, Maud's right hand on Konstana's wrist, her left flat against the elbow, locking it.

"You asked me how my daughter did it," Maud said. "She did it just like this."

She hit the elbow. The elbow capsule popped with a loud crack as the sheath around the joint tore. Konstana cried out. The women around them winced and made sucking noises.

"Exactly like I taught her." Maud let go and stepped away.

The vampire woman struggled to her feet, her arm hanging useless, and swiped the sword from the ground with her left hand.

"Well fought, Lady Konstana," Maud said.

The vampire woman unhinged her jaws. "Well fought, Lady Maud."

"Well," Lady Ilemina said. "That was quite stirring. I feel myself in need of some exercise. Lady Maud, perhaps you would indulge me?"

Crap, crap, crap. Maud bowed. "I'm deeply honored."

"Of course you are." Lady Ilemina walked forward.

Six feet six at least. Close to two hundred pounds. Like watching a tank approach.

Thoughts skittered through Maud, running too fast. There was no way to back down from the fight. Throwing the fight wasn't an option either. They had too many eyes on them, and Ilemina would definitely view it as an insult. Winning the fight wasn't an option, even if it was possible, which it wasn't. She couldn't humiliate Arland's mother. She couldn't let herself be humiliated. It would kill any chances she had for being accepted, and after last night she wanted Arland more than ever.

What to do? How do I handle it?

Arland's mother was the Preceptor of House Krahr and she got there because she was the best leader. Vampires led from the front. That and the two-page list of titles behind her name meant she would be a superior fighter. Her strength would be overwhelming.

Maud tested the sword one more time, warming up. She was well trained, but in a contest of pure strength, especially against a vampire knight with decades of experience, she would lose. She relied on surprise and dirty tactics, but thanks to Konstana, the cat was out of the bag and the open grassy lawn presented no opportunity for ambush, which meant she had only two things left in her corner: speed and endurance.

I have to outlast her. That's my only chance. Outlast her and exit the fight with some grace.

Ilemina turned sideways, the blade of her sword held parallel to the grass, raised her hand, and motioned with her fingers.

Oh great.

Maud thrust, light on her feet. Ilemina parried and struck from above. Maud spun around, avoiding the blade by a hair, and slashed at Ilemina's chest. The point of her blade grazed the armor, drawing a bright red line for everyone to see. "First blood!" Karat announced.

Crap.

Lady Ilemina laughed. It was the sound of pure menace.

Maud went cold.

You've got this. You can do this. Arland's been the Marshal for the last six years, with Nexus being his first major command, which means it's been six years since Ilemina really had to get her sword dirty.

Arland's mother charged. Her blade came crashing down, impossibly fast. Maud dodged. Before she had a chance to counter, Ilemina reversed. It was a beautiful move, but Maud had no time to admire it. She dodged again, dancing around Ilemina.

Strike, dodge, strike, dodge.

Thrust. Maud parried, angling her blade, directing most of the force downward. The kinetic punch reverberated through her arm all the way into her shoulder. Ow.

A direct hit would break her bones. Maud was sure of it.

Ilemina thrust again and smashed her shoulder into Maud's.

There was no place to go. Maud barely had time to brace. The impact took her off her feet. She flew, spun her legs, and rolled to her feet in time to jump away from Ilemina's sword.

Arland's mother chased her.

Dodge, dodge, dodge.

Maud slid between the blows and sliced a diagonal gash across Ilemina's chest. The tip of the sword caught Arland's mother's neck. A drop of blood swelled.

Oh no.

Ilemina charged.

The flurry of blows came too fast to dodge. The blade connected with Maud's ribs. Pain cracked in her side, dull not sharp-the armor held. Ilemina struck again and again. All semblance of restraint was gone from her face. She tore at Maud with single-minded intensity.

Ilemina's blade came in a wide horizontal arc. Maud leaned backward, so far she almost toppled to the ground. All of the hair on the back of her neck stood on end. If that sword hit her unprotected skull, she would be dead. This is no longer a practice fight.

Ilemina's slash caught her left arm. Pain hammered into Maud.

She had to survive. She couldn't abandon Helen.

Hold on, baby. Mommy won't die.

The same sharp heat that always drowned her when their lives were in danger swallowed Maud. She lunged forward. Ilemina's sword whistled past her. Maud reversed her grip and thrust the heavy pommel into Ilemina's throat. Arland's mother made a gargling noise and backhanded her. The punch spun Maud around. The sharp tang of her own blood wet Maud's tongue. She whirled and sliced at Ilemina.

They clashed across the field, cutting, striking, snarling, turning into a whirlwind of blades. People scrambled out of their path. One of the refreshment tables loomed at Maud's back. She jumped onto it and kicked a glass pitcher at Arland's mother. It took Ilemina a second to bat it away with her sword. Maud used it to jump aside and dash, opening the distance.

Arland's mother bore down on her, attacking, tireless, like a machine. Another hit. Another.

The world went slightly fuzzy. Maud shook it off and cut another red useless wound across Ilemina's side. Ilemina shoved her back. Maud stumbled, dodging a thrust with nothing to spare.

I can't take much more. I have to end it or she'll end me.

Ilemina delivered a vertical cut, followed it with another. In a split second, Maud recognized the pattern. Arland's mother reversed her blade again. Instead of dancing away, Maud dropped to the ground, planted her hands, and kicked at Ilemina's left knee. The knee cap cracked.

Ilemina snarled and kicked at her with her injured leg. Sweet universe, did she even feel pain? Maud saw the boot coming, curled up, took it, and wrapped her legs around Ilemina, trying to take her to the ground.

Arland's mother roared, bent down, and grabbed Maud's arm, dragging her up. It was like being lifted by a bobcat. Maud dropped her sword.

Ilemina jerked her up and Maud smashed both hands against Ilemina's ears. Ilemina screamed and flung her away, like she was a feral cat. Maud sprinted to the practice rack and grabbed a sword. It was too heavy, but there wasn't time to be picky.

Arland's mother stomped across the field, unstoppable, her eyes fixed on Maud. Maud bared her teeth.

Helen dashed between them, her back to Maud, holding her daggers, and snarled, right into Ilemina's path.

"No!" Maud screamed.

Lady Ilemina stopped.

Maud almost collapsed with relief.

Rational thought returned to Ilemina's eyes. "Oh my," she said.

Helen raised her daggers. "Don't hurt my mommy or I'll kill you."

"It's okay, my flower," Maud managed. "We were just practicing."

Ilemina laughed. "That is beyond adorable. No need, little one. I surrender. Your mother and I are quite finished, and you're very frightening."

She glanced up and Maud read her eyes. Ilemina knew they had gone too far. The fight was over.

"This is Lady Ilemina," Maud said. "Lord Arland's mother. We must give her every courtesy."

Helen lowered her daggers, put her legs together, and bent her knees in an ancient vampire bow.

Ilemina laughed. "My goodness."

Helen straightened.

"Are those your daggers?" Ilemina asked.

"Yes."

"Are they sharp?"

"Yes."

"Do you think they are sharp enough to cut a cookie in a half?"

Helen paused. "Yes."

"Come show me."

Helen turned to Maud.

"Yes," Maud said. "Be polite."

Ilemina offered Helen her hand. Helen put her daggers away, took Arland's mother's hand, and walked away with her. "What kind of cookies..."

Maud slumped over. Suddenly Karat was there, holding her up. Maud retched, spat out blood, and wiped her lips with the back of her hand.

People were staring at her.

"Everything hurts," she murmured.

"No shit," Karat said. "Look at yourself."

Maud glanced down. Cuts and slashes crisscrossed her armor, so many of them, it was no longer black. It was blood red. Across the field, Ilemina handed Helen a cookie. Her armor was crimson as well.

Karat gently lowered Maud to the grass. "The medic is coming. Just sit here and rest a bit."

Konstana thrust into her view with field med unit. "Here."

"Are you going to poison me?"

"Shut up and take the pain killer." Konstana held the unit up. Maud pressed it against her neck. A stab and then a cool rush flooded her body, lifting the pain.

"Drink this." Karat stuck a glass pitcher under her nose. Mint cordial. Of course. Maud gulped.

"Where the hell did you learn to fight?" Konstana asked.

"At my parents' inn."

"Humans don't fight like that."

"I couldn't let her kill me," Maud said. "I couldn't leave Helen."

Karat stared at her.

"You'll get it when you have your own," Konstana told Karat.

Maud leaned back against the stone. She didn't win. But she didn't lose either. The day was looking up.

***

Every step hurt. Maud walked down the hallway, trying not to wince, aware of Karat hovering by her side. The medic had arrived and quickly confirmed three cracked ribs. He offered a stretcher. Getting onto that stretcher and being carted off would undo everything she'd just fought for. She had sparred with Ilemina. She hadn't lost. She had to be seen walking away from the fight without any help.

It took another agonizing quarter of an hour before Lady Ilemina retired, and the older sentinel had come to collect Helen, who still had some scrubbing to do. Maud made it through by sheer will, but walking hurt like hell, and her will was quickly growing thin.

Two middle-aged women strode past them, eyeing her red armor. An awful lot of people had found an excuse to either cross or walk through the hallway. Word of her match with Ilemina had gotten around. They probably filmed it, Maud reflected. When it came to violence, the vampires filmed everything.

The harbinger on her wrist chimed. She glanced at it, and the harbinger tracked her eye movement, projecting a holoscreen over her wrist. It flashed and focused into Arland's face. The beginning of a spectacular shiner swelled around his left eye. A long, ragged cut crossed his right cheek. His eyes blazed. He bared his teeth. She'd seen that look before on his face and recognized it instantly. Battle rage.

"Are you alright?" he growled.

"Are you?" she asked.

"Yes."

Karat grabbed her wrist and raised Maud's arm so she could look at the screen.

"Don't you dare show up here," she hissed. "She's walking on her own power and we have an audience. What the hell happened to you?"

"Otubar," Arland snarled.

What?

Karat swore.

Maud took her arm back. "You had a fight with your mother's consort?"

"We had a spirited practice," Arland said. "I'll find you as soon as I'm done speaking with my mother."

"Don't say anything stupid," Karat barked, but the screen went dark. Karat rolled her eyes. "What is happening in our House?"

They made another turn and walked into a room filled with medical equipment and curved cots surrounded by metal and plastic arms bearing an array of lasers, needles, and what surely had to be tools of torture. The door blissfully hissed shut behind them. The room tried to crawl sideways. Karat grabbed her arm and steadied her.

The medic, a lean male vampire with dark gray skin and long mane of dark hair pulled back from his face, pointed at her. "Out of the armor."

Maud hesitated. The armor was protection. In enemy territory, it determined life and death. Taking it off would make her vulnerable and she was feeling vulnerable enough already.

"Do you want to walk out of here in two hours or do you want to be carried out?" the medic asked.

She couldn't afford to be carried out.

Maud hit her crest. The armor split along the seams and peeled off her, leaving her in the under-armor jumpsuit. The sudden absence of the reinforced outer shell took her by surprise. The floor rushed at her, yawning, dangerously close. Strong hands caught her, and the medic carried her to a cot. A scalpel flashed and then her jump suit came apart on the right side. The cot's arms buzzed and hovered over her, as if the bed was a high-tech spider suddenly come to life. The cushion supporting her rose, curving, sliding her into a half-seated position. A green light stabbed from one of the mechanical arms, dancing across her bruised ribs in a hot rush.

"How bad is it?" Karat asked.

The medic met Maud's eyes. "You'll be fine. If you get to me in time, I can heal almost everything. Except stupid. You're on your own with that one."

"What are you implying?" Karat demanded.

"Going toe to toe with Ilemina was stupid," the medic said.

Karat fixed him with her stare. The medic swiped across his harbinger. A huge holographic screen flared in front of them. On it, Ilemina kicked Maud across the lawn. The memory of the foot connecting with her ribs cracked through Maud. She

winced.

"Stupid," the medic said.

Maud sagged against the bed. The cushion cradled her, holding her battered body gently. The bed's upper left arm pricked her forearm with a small needle. A soothing coolness flooded her.

For some inexplicable reason, she missed her father. She missed him with all of the desperate intensity of a scared lonely child. She would've given anything to have him walk through the door. Heat gathered behind her eyes. She was about to

cry.

A sedative, she realized. The medic must have given her a mood stabilizer or a mild relaxant with her cocktail of painkillers. It was probably standard practice for vampires. Once the pain was gone, most of them would decide that they were fine now and likely try to dramatically kick free of the medical equipment and destroy the door to finish the fight.

Gerard Demille wasn't her biological parent, but he was the only father she ever knew. He came from a time when knowing how to use a sword meant the difference between life and death. His wasn't the modern sword fighting as a sport or an artform, but a brutally efficient skill, a way to survive. When she was six years old, she'd picked up his saber and swung it around. He'd watched her for a couple of minutes, stopped what he was doing, got up, and delivered her first sword lesson. The lessons came every day after that, and when she beat him, he hired others some human, some not-to teach her.

Maud sighed. Mom always thought it was part of her magic, her particular brand of power. That's why Mother spent most of Maud's adolescence worrying that an ad-hal would come to the door.

The ad-hal served as the Innkeeper Assembly's enforcers. While the innkeepers were bound to their inns, capable of almost unlimited power on the inn's grounds and able to do almost nothing outside of it, the magic of the ad-hal came from within them. They served the Assembly. Safeguarding the treaty that guaranteed Earth's protected status, they investigated, apprehended offenders, and punished them. Seeing an ad-hal was never a good thing. The last time she saw one was just a few days ago, when he walked into the battle for her sister's inn and paralyzed every fighter on that field.

I could have ended up just like that.

There was a time when becoming an ad-hal hadn't seemed so bad. She didn't have Klaus' encyclopedic knowledge of every species and custom in the galaxy. He was exceptional even by innkeeper standards. She didn't have Dina's green thumb, either. Her sister could plant a broomstick in the yard, and next summer it would bear lovely apples. All Maud had was an ability to read people and an innate understanding of violence and its degrees and uses. Within seconds of meeting an opponent, she knew exactly how to provoke or calm them and how much force she would have to use to stop, cripple, or kill them. Person or animal, Maud could take its measure and push them to the desired result. That's what made her so good at navigating vampire politics.

She always thought that Klaus would inherit the inn, and Dina, who always wanted to live a normal life, would end up as a gardener or botanist somewhere, while Maud became an ad-hal. Motherhood and marriage hadn't been on her radar. Now her parents were missing, Klaus was lost, Dina was an innkeeper, and Maud lay in a vampire hospital bed after getting the living daylights beat out of her by a prospective mother-in-law.

The door chimed.

Now what?

The medic glanced at the screen to his left. "The Scribe is outside the door," the medic said. "Do you want to receive him?"

Scribes kept vampire histories. Every genealogical quirk, every victory and defeat, every scheme gone wrong or right, they recorded it all. But she wasn't a part of House Krahr. There was no reason why he would want to see her. Delaying wouldn't accomplish anything and refusing the meeting would be unwise. The Scribe held enough power to force a meeting if he wanted and she had precious few allies as it was. No reason to alienate him. Maud fought through the relaxant's fog. "Yes."

The door hissed open, and the Scribe walked in. Tall, broad-shouldered, with a mane of chestnut brown hair, he was older than Arland, but not by much. He had a long intelligent face and his eyes, pale green under a sweep of thick eyebrows,

were

sharp.

"Lady Maud," he said. "My name is Lord Erast."

"To what do we owe the honor?" Karat asked.

"It seems Lady Maud and I have gotten off on the wrong foot," the Scribe said.

"That's impossible, my lord," Maud said. "We haven't met."

"Precisely. I labored under the assumption that as a human, you would be exempt from our traditions." Erast nodded at the recording playing on the screen. "I was in error. We know exactly nothing about you, which makes it awkward at formal

functions."

He flicked his fingers at his crest. "This session is now being recorded. What is your lifetime kill count?"

"I don't know."

Erast's eyes bulged. "What do you mean, you don't know?"

"I haven't kept track."

"You were the wife of a Marshal's son. Was the importance of keeping a personal record not impressed upon you?"

Maud sighed. "In the three years I was with House Ervan, they had no major conflicts. I had several personal bouts, but none of them were to the death. Afterward, on Karhari, it didn't seem important."

"Did you have any titles?" Karat asked.

"Maud the Eloquent."

Karat and Erast looked at each other.

"House Ervan put great emphasis on the knowledge of ancient sagas," Maud explained.

"Can she use that?" Karat asked. Erast pinched the bridge of his nose. "Technically, no. They struck her from their records, so any titles or honors earned while with House Ervan are forfeit. They are subjective, bestowed upon an individual by others to highlight certain deeds.

The kill count is different because taking a life is an irrefutable fact."

"What about Maud the Exile?" Karat asked. "Could we do something with that?"

Erast frowned. "My lady, answer honestly. What was the most important duty in your life before your exile?"

"Taking care of Helen."

"What about on Karhari?"

"Taking care of Helen."

"And now?"

"Helen."

"Do you desire revenge on House Ervan?"

"I wouldn't mind punching a couple of them, but no. I was mad at my husband, and I buried him long ago."

Erast sighed. "The Exile won't work. A title like that implies an element of rebirth. Lady Maud hasn't permitted the act of being exiled to affect her worldview. There was no seismic shift in her personality as the result of being sent to Karhari." The two vampires stared at her. The frustration on Erast's face was almost comical.

"They did call me something on Karhari."

"What

was it?"

"Maud the Sariv."

"What does that mean?" Karat asked. "On Karhari there is a summer wind that comes from the wastes. Nobody knows how it forms, but it comes out of nowhere and it picks up thorny spores from local weeds. When you inhale sariv's breath, the spores enter your lungs and cut you from the inside. There is no escape from this storm. If you are caught in it without protective gear, it will kill you. They called me that because I paid the blood debt I owed to my husband's killers."

Erast perked up. "Do you have any proof of that, my lady?"

"Would you hand me my crest?" Erast picked up her breastplate. His eyes widened at the mess of red. He offered it to her, and she pulled the crest off. She'd transferred all of her recordings to it as soon as Arland gave it to her. "Play all files tagged Melizard's Death in chronological order," she said. The crest lit with red, projecting onto a wall. She knew every frame of the recording by heart. It played in her head for months. The view of a fortified town from a dusty hilltop. A crowd dragging Melizard through the street, faces contorted with fury and glee, rabid. Melizard's bloody face as they took turns punching him, while he stumbled, caught in the ring of striking arms and legs. Him crawling on the ground while they kicked him. The stone bench they dragged out of the nearest house. The flash of a rising axe. Melizard's head rolling as they cut him apart. The greasy smoke rising from his burned body. Melizard's head on a pike rising above the gates, his empty dead eyes staring into the distance. Silence claimed the room.

A light ring singled out a face in the crowd and zoomed in. A huge dark-haired male vampire with a scar across his face. A caption appeared. Rumbolt of House Gyr. The recording zoomed in on his face, turning dark, then blossoming into bright daylight, filmed by a camera attached to her shoulder. Rumbolt's face, skewed by rage, as he swung a blood mace at her. One, two, three blows, all whistling past her. Her own stab, fast and precise as it slid into his throat and opened a second bloody mouth across his neck. Rumbolt collapsing on his knees then face down into the dirt, his blood spilling onto the dust. Her blade again as she sliced across his neck and kicked his head across the dusty street, sending it rolling and bouncing off the hard dirt.

The recording blinked and a woman resembling Rumbolt stared up at her as Maud smashed her face with a rock. A caption popped up. Erline of House Gyr.

"His sister," she explained. "The relatives came after me at first, but they stopped after the first few kills."

The freeze frame of the crowd gripping Melizard flashed again. The light circle picked out a new face, a woman with gray hair, screeching, her fangs bared. The caption read Kirlin the Gray.

The recording zoomed in, turned dark, and then a vampire in heavy scarred armor was coming at her, her neck and face hidden by a full helmet.

"Is that an antique space-rated unit?" Karat asked.

"Yes. She preferred to fight in it. It made her slow, but the armor is so thick, the blood weapons can't penetrate." On the recording, Maud dodged the swings of Kirlin's blade and thrust herself against the woman. Kirlin's arm came up, then the recording shook and rocked as Maud reeled away after taking the blow. Kirlin raised her sword, about to charge.

A small dot of crimson flared on her neck. It blinked and Kirlin's throat exploded in a gush of gore, taking the head with it.

"Mining charge." Maud smiled. The image of the crowd appeared again, singling out a new target. Zoom, darkness, then a lean vampire backing away up the hill from the wild swings of Maud's mace, moving closer and closer to the drop. She kept hammering at him, her voice a guttural snarl echoing every blow. He planted himself, aware he was almost out of ground, and slashed at her with his sword. She dropped her mace, spun out of the way of his blade, and kicked him. It was a front kick, driven not up, but down, almost a stomp. She'd sunk all of the power of her body into it. Her heel landed on the vampire's leading knee. His leg gave out and he dropped down to compensate. She punched him in the face and rammed her shoulder into his chest. He sailed off the cliff. She bent down, and the camera caught his body impaled on spikes below. The recording blinked, and a second body joined the first. Then a third. And a fourth.

"He had three brothers," she explained. "They kept coming after me, so I told them that if they tried to fight me, they would die in the same spot their brother did, and they followed me to the cliff. Worked every time. I already had the spikes

set up. It seemed a shame to waste them."

Erast, Karat, and the medic were looking at her like she had sprouted a second head.

The next target loomed on the screen, an older vampire, his hair shot through with gray.

"This one isn't mine," she grimaced. "This is my worst failure."

The recording zoomed in. She was on the ground, her breath coming out in sharp pained gasps. The camera was splattered with blood. The vampire stood several feet away, his armor a mess of cuts. He gripped Helen by her hair. She dangled

from his hand, screaming, her high-pitched shriek so sharp. Every time Maud heard it, it felt like her heart was breaking.

"I've got your whelp, bitch! I'll slit her throat so you can watch," the vampire roared.

He jerked Helen up. She spun in his grip, pulling her two daggers out, and drove them into the vampire's face. He dropped her. Maud surged off the ground, drove her sword into a cut in his breastplate, and twisted. The armor cracked, contracting, and locked on the vampire, paralyzing him. The vampire collapsed, and Helen stabbed his exposed neck

again and again, screaming.

"This one is hers," Maud said.

It was so quiet, she could hear herself breathing.

"How many are there?" Erast asked.

"I don't know," she answered. "I never counted."

"Then perhaps we should do so," he said.