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 épée, 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 épée. 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 épée 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."
