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Kindra looked at him with question—she had not thought he would humor any man of his band so. Brydar said defensively, “The lad is nothing to me; not foster-brother, kinsman, nor even friend. But hefought at my side, and he is brave; it was he who killed Scarface in single combat. And may have had hisdeath from it.”

“Why should he want to speak to me?”

“He says,
 
mestra
 
, that it is a matter concerning his sister. And he begs you in the name of Avarra the

pitiful that you will come. And he is young enough, almost, to be your son.”

“So,” Kindra said at last. She had not seen her own son since he was eight days old; and he would, she thought, be too young to bear a sword. “I cannot refuse anyone who begs me in the name of the Goddess,” she said, and rose, frowning; young Marco had said he had no sister. No; he had said that there was none, now, that he could call sister. Which might be a different thing.

On the stairs she heard the voice of one of Brydar’s men, expostulating, “Lad, we won’t hurt ye, but ifwe don’t get to that wound and tend to it, you could die, do ye’ hear?”

“Get away from me!” The young voice cracked. “I swear by Zandu’s hells, and, by the spilt tripes of

Scarface out there dead, I’ll shove this knife into the throat of the first man who touches me!”

Inside, by torchlight, Kindra saw Marco half-sitting, half-lying on a straw pallet; he had a dagger in hishand, holding them away with it; but he was pale as death, and there was icy sweat on his forehead. Thestraw pallet was slowly reddening with a pool of blood. Kindra knew enough of wounds to know that thehuman body could lose more blood than most people thought possible without serious danger; but to anyordinary person it looked most alarming.

Marco saw Kindra and gasped, “
 
Mestra
, I beg you —I must speak with you alone—”

“That’s no way to speak to a comrade, lad,” said one of the mercenaries, kneeling behind him, as Kindra knelt beside the pallet. The wound was high on the leg, near the groin; the leather breeches had broken the blow somewhat, or the boy would have met the same fate as the man Annelys had struck with the axe.

“You little fool,” Kindra said. “I can’t do half as much for you as your friend can.”

Marco’s eyes closed for a moment, from pain or weakness. Kindra thought he had lost consciousness,and gestured to the man behind him. “Quick, now, while he is unconscious—” she said swiftly, but thetortured eyes flicked open.

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“Would you betray me, too?” He gestured with the dagger, but so feebly that Kindra was shocked.

There was certainly no time to be lost. The best thing was to humor him.

“Go,” she said, “I’ll reason with him, and if he won’t listen, well, he is old enough to take the consequences of his folly.” Her mouth twisted as the men went away. “I hope what you have to tell me is worth risking your life for, you lackwitted simpleton!”

But a great and terrifying suspicion was born in her as she knelt on the bloody pallet. “You fool, do youknow this is likely to be your deathwound? I have small skill at leechcraft; your comrades could do betterfor you.”

“It is sure to be my death unless you help me,” said the hoarse, weakening voice. “None of these men is comrade enough that I could trust him…
 
mestra
 
, help me, I beg you, in the name of the merciful Avarra—I am a woman.”

Kindra drew a sharp breath. She had begun to suspect—and it was true, then. “And none of Brydar’smen knows—”

“None. I have dwelt among them for half a year, and I do not think any man of them suspects—and I

fear women even more. But you, you I felt I might trust—”

“I swear it,” Kindra said hastily. “I am oath-bound never to refuse aid to any woman who asks me in the name of the Goddess. But let me help you now, my poor girl, and pray Avarra you have not delayed too long!”

“Even if it was so— ” the strange girl whispered— I would rather die as a woman, than—disgraced and

exposed. I have known so much disgrace—”

“Hush! Hush, child!” But she fell back against the pallet; she had really fainted, this time, at last; and Kindra cut away the leather breeches, looking at the serious cut that sliced through the top of the thigh and into the pubic mound. It had bled heavily, but was not, Kindra thought, fatal. She picked up one of the clean towels the men had left, pressed heavily against the wound; when it slowed to an ooze, she frowned, thinking it should be stitched. She hesitated to do it—she had little skill at such things, and she was sure the man from Brydar’s band could do it more tidily and sure-handed; but she knew that was exactly what the young woman had feared, to be handled and exposed by men. Kindra thought:
 
If it could be done before she recovers consciousness, she need not know
 
… But she had promised the girl, and she would keep her promise. The girl did not stir as she stepped out into the hall.

Brydar came halfway up the stairs. “How goes it?”

“Send young Annelys to me,” Kindra said. “Tell her to bring linen thread and a needle; and linen for bandages, and hot water and soap.” Annelys had courage and strength; what was more, she was sure that if Kindra asked her to keep a secret, Annelys would do so, instead of gossiping about it.

Brydar said, in a undertone that did not carry a yard past Kindra’s ear, “It’s a woman—isn’t it?”

Kindra demanded, with a frown. “Were you listening?”

“Listening, hell! I’ve got the brains I was born with, and I was remembering a couple of other little things. Can you think of any other reason a member of my band wouldn’t let us get his britches off? Whoever she is, she’s got guts enough for two!”

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Kindra shook her head in dismay. Then all the girl’s suffering was useless, scandal and disgrace therewould be in any case. “Brydar, you pledged this would be worth my while. Do you owe me, or not?”

“I owe you,” Brydar said.

“Then swear by your sword that you will never open your mouth about this, and I am paid. Fair

enough?”

Brydar grinned. “I won’t cheat you out of your pay for that,” he said. “You think I want it to get roundthese hills that Brydar of Fen Hills can’t tell the men from the ladies? Young Marco rode with my bandfor half a year and proved himself the man. If his foster-sister or kinswoman or cousin or what you willchooses to nurse him herself, and take him home with her afterward, what’s it to any of my men? Damned if I want my crew thinking some girl killed Scarface right under my nose!” He put his hand tosword-hilt. “Zandru take this hand with the palsy if I say any word about this. I’ll send Annelys to you,”he promised, and went.

Kindra returned to the girl’s side. She was still unconscious; when Annelys came in, Kindra said curtly, “Hold the lamp there; I want to get this stitched before she recovers consciousness. And try not to getsqueamish or faint; I want to get it done quick enough so we don’t have to hold her down while we doit.”

Annelys gulped at the sight of the girl and the gaping wound, which had begun to bleed again. “Awoman! Blessed Evanda! Kindra, is she one of your Sisterhood? Did you know?”

“No, to both questions. Here, hold the light—”

“No,” said Annelys. “I have done this many times; I have steady hands for this. Once when my brother

cut his thigh chopping wood, I sewed it up, and I have helped the midwife, too. You hold the light.”

Relieved, Kindra surrendered the needle. Annelys began her work as skillfully as if she wereembroidering a cushion; halfway through the business, the girl regained consciousness; she gave a faintcry of fright, but Kindra spoke to her, and she quieted and lay still, her teeth clamped in her lip, clingingto Kindra’s hand. Halfway through, she moistened her lip and whispered, “Is she one of you,
 
mestra
 
?”

“No. No more than yourself, child. But she is a friend. And she will not gossip about you, I know it,”

Kindra said confidently.

When Annelys had finished, she fetched a glass of wine for the woman, and held her head while shedrank it. Some color came back into the pale cheeks, and she was breathing more easily. Annelysbrought one of her own nightgowns and said, “You will be more comfortable in this, I think. I wish wecould carry you to my bed, but I don’t think you should be moved yet. Kindra, help me to lift her.” Witha pillow and a couple of clean sheets she set about making the woman comfortable on the straw pallet.

The stranger made a faint sound of protest as they began to undress her, but was too weak to protesteffectively. Kindra stared in shock as the undertunic came off. She would never have believed that anywoman over fourteen could successfully pose as a man among men; yet this woman had done it, and nowshe saw how. The revealed form was flat, spare, breastless; the shoulders had the hardened musculatureof any swordsman. There was more hair on the arms that most women would have tolerated withoutremoving it somehow, with bleach or wax. Annelys stared in amazement, and the woman, seeing thatshocked look, hid her face in the pillow. Kindra said sharply, “There is no need to stare. She is

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emmasca
 
, that is all; haven’t you ever seen one before?” The neutering operation was illegal all over Darkover, and dangerous; and in this woman it must have been done before, or shortly after puberty. She was filled with questions, but courtesy forbade any of them.

“But—but— ” Annelys whispered. “Was she born so or made so? It is unlawful—who would dare—”

“Made so,” the girl said, her face still hidden in the pillow. “Had I been born so, I would have had

nothing to fear… and I chose this so that I might have nothing more to fear!”

She tightened her mouth as they lifted and turned her; Annelys gasped aloud at the shocking scars, likethe marks of whips, across the woman’s back; but she said nothing, only pulled the merciful concealmentof her own nightgown over the frightful revelation of those scars. Gently, she washed the woman’s faceand hands with soapy water. The ginger-pale hair was dark with sweat, but at the roots Kindra sawsomething else; the hair was beginning to grow in fire-red there.

Comyn. The telepath caste, red-haired… this woman was a noblewoman, born to rule in the

Domains of Darkover!

In the name of all the Gods, Kindra wondered, who can she be, what has come to her? How came shehere in this disguise, even her hair bleached so none can guess at her lineage? And who has mishandledher so? She must have been beaten like an animal…

And then, shocked, she heard the words forming in her mind, not knowing how.

Scarface
, said the voice in her mind.
 
But now I am avenged. Even if it means my death
 
…

She was frightened; never had she so clearly perceived; her rudimentary telepath gift had always, before,been a matter of quick intuition, hunch, lucky guess. She whispered aloud, in horror and dismay, “By the Goddess! Child, who are you?”

The pale face contorted in a grimace which Kindra recognized, in dismay, was intended for a smile. “Iam—no one,” she said. “I had thought myself the daughter of Alaric Lindir. Have you heard the tale?”

Alaric Lindir. The Lindir family were a proud and wealthy family, distantly akin to the Aillard family ofthe Comyn. Too highly born, in fact, for Kindra to claim acquaintance with any of that kin; they were ofthe ancient blood of the Hastur-kin.

“Yes, they are a proud people,” whispered the woman. “My mother’s name was Kyria, and she was a younger sister to Dom Lewis Ardais—not the Ardais Lord, but his younger brother. But still, she was high-born enough that when she proved to be with child by one of the Hastur lords of Thendara, she was hurried away and married in haste to Alaric Lindir. And my father—he that I had always believed my father—he was proud of his red-haired daughter; all during my childhood I heard how proud he was of me, for I would marry into Comyn, or go to one of the Towers and become a great and powerful sorceress or Keeper. And then—then came Scarface and his crew, and they sacked the castle, and carried away some of the women, just as an afterthought, and by the time Scarface discovered who he had as his latest captive—well, the damage was done, but still he sent to my father for ransom. And my father, that selfsame Dom Alaric who had not enough proud words for his red-haired beauty who should further his ambition by a proud marriage into the Comyn, my father—” She choked, then spat the words out. “He sent word that if Scarface could guarantee me—untouched—then he would ransom me at a great price; but if not, then he would pay nothing. For if I was—was spoilt, ravaged—then I was no use to him, and Scarface might hang me or give me to one of his men, as he saw fit.”

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“Holy Bearer of Burdens!” Annelys whispered. “And this man had reared you as his own child?”

“Yes—and I had thought he loved me,” Camilla said, her face twisting. Kindra closed her eyes in horror, seeing all too clearly the man who had welcomed his wife’s bastard—but only while she could further his ambition!

Annelys’ eyes were filled with tears. “How dreadful! Oh, how could any man—”

“I have come to believe any man would do so,” Camilla said, “for Scarface was so angry at my father’s refusal that he gave me to one of his men to be a plaything, and you can see how he used me.
 
That
 
one I killed while he lay sleeping one night, when at last he had come to believe me beaten into submission—and so made my escape, and back to my mother, and she welcomed me with tears and with pity, but I could see in her mind that her greatest fear, now, was that I should shame her by bearing the child of Scarface’s bastard; she feared that my father would say to her,
 
like mother, like daughter
 
, and my disgrace would revive the old story of her own. And I could not forgive my mother—that she should continue to love and to live with that man who had rejected me and given me over to such a fate. And so I made my way to a
 
leronis
 
, who took pity on me—or perhaps she, too, wanted only to be certain I would not disgrace my Comyn blood by becoming a whore or a bandit’s drab—and she made me
 
emmasca
 
, as you see. And I took service with Brydar’s men, and so I won my revenge—”