The Phoenix Guards Read Free Page A

far sharper than Khaavren would have suspected possible from the quiet gentleman. It was used to good effect, too, as the Dzurlord stopped, looked at him, then sighed and nodded.
    “Ah, yes,” she said, with a hint of contempt in her voice. “First blood.”
    Then, turning her back on the fallen Hawklord, she walked back into the inn, stopping only to clean her blade and retrieve her doublet. The Hawk’s second approached his principal and dropped to his knee, looking at the wound.
    “A healer!” he cried.
    The village healer, such as he was, was sent for, and Khaavren returned to the inn, following Aerich back to the same corner he had occupied earlier. They sat down next to the Dzur, who had already resumed her place with an air which indicated that the battle in which she had just been victorious was not even worth the trouble to discuss. Aerich picked up the three copper pieces they had been playing with, threw them into the air, looked at the result, and carelessly set out two silver orbs.
    “With only two players?” asked the Dzur, who was gathering the Hawklord’s winnings over to her side of the table. Khaavren studied her for the first time. Her hair and eyes were quite black, the hair hanging straight down to well below her shoulders without evidence of a curl. Her cheekbones were high, and she had the upward tilting eyes of the House of the Dzur. She was fully as tall as he, with a dark complexion. Her nose was long and straight, her chin strong. She wore a black doublet of finely woven linen, which came to just below her waist. The collar was high, but she had no ruff. The sleeves were nearly as puffed as Khaavren’s own, with a bit of white lace at the cuff. The buttons on the doublet seemed to be of gold, and had inlay work that looked to be Serioli in style. Her belt of black leather was wide with brass buttons. He couldn’t see her legs, but his memory told him that her hose were of silk, and finely knit. She wore gleaming
black boots with cuffs just below the knee. Around her neck was a pendant on a silver chain, with the face of a dzur pictured on it.
    Aerich shrugged and looked an inquiry at Khaavren. The latter felt himself blushing. “Lord Aerich,” he said, “I do not play.”
    Aerich studied him, then wordlessly drew several coins from in front of him and set them in front of Khaavren.
    “My lord,” said Khaavren, as he tried to decide if he ought to be offended that his lack of funds had been discovered. “I could not—”
    Aerich cut him off with a smile and a shake of his head. Then he pointed to the three copper coins. “Split high,” he said. He pointed to the coins he had placed in the middle of the table. “Two,” he added.
    Khaavren swallowed, and pushed two silver orbs into the center of the table. The Dzur had already done so. Aerich passed him the coins, and Khaavren gathered them clumsily into his hand. He licked his lips, and tossed the coins half a meter into the air. They hit with the high, tinkling sound of light copper, two of them showing orbs and one showing the throne, the same as Aerich’s.
    The Dzurlord said, “Split high. You match.”
    “Hmmmm,” said Khaavren, struggling to remember the little he knew of the game. “I’ll hold.”
    The Dzurlord threw next, splitting low, leaving her out. Aerich threw and split low. He shrugged, and passed a hand over the table indicating that he would hold.
    Khaavren threw and achieved three thrones. He looked at Aerich, who nodded. Khaavren collected the silver. The Dzur gave him a smile, then called in a loud voice, “Bring us wine, by the Orb! I’ll not be penniless and dry at once, eh?” Then she turned to Khaavren. “What is your name, my friend?”
    He told her. She said, “I am Tazendra.” Aerich gave her, for only an instant, a singular glance, but said nothing. Khaavren noticed this look and wondered.
    The tinkling of coins continued, and the pile of silver that Aerich had given Khaavren began to