Robin D. Owens

Guardian of Honor


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attorneys. She smiled with all her teeth. She could be a predator too. The memory of the sound as the man she’d fought hit the wall tugged at her and nausea rose. She pushed it aside. Pushed all thought aside. She had to be strong, show no fear, if she was to win the respect she needed to be safe.

      The big jerk, Reynardus, barked an order at her. Gestured.

      Alexa didn’t get it. She widened her stance and set her hands on her hips, just noticing that her clothes had dried. She angled her chin up. God, she’d crash when the adrenaline stopped, but she was jazzed now. The ends of her hair lifted. Heat and energy throbbed along her skin, silky with power.

      He growled, his eyes narrowed in frustration. With wide movements he tapped the empty sheath along his right side. He pointed to the stick she’d hooked to her jeans. He snapped his fingers, opened a broad, calloused palm.

      Alexa smiled. “No!” She put her hand on the short staff under the pointed tip and angled it forward, curved her fingers around it.

      She heard the grinding of his teeth as he repeated his actions.

      “No!” she shouted. Grinned. “What part of ‘no’ don’t you understand?”

      “Ttho!” Marwey said from a little beside and behind Alexa.

      When Alexa slid her gaze to Marwey, the girl continued. “No—ttho!” She smiled sweetly as if she too enjoyed thwarting Reynardus. “No—ttho!”

      Alexa turned back to the big guy. “Ttho! What part of ‘ttho’ don’t you understand?”

      Thealia bit off some words. Then she spouted what could only be instructions, gesturing. Alexa watched closely, but only understood that the lady wanted someone to go and get something.

      A massive man, even bigger than Reynardus, clomped over. He scanned Alexa up and down. She returned his stare. He snorted, took some huge gloves—gauntlets?—from his belt, pulled them on and went in the same direction as the doctor. Squinting, Alexa finally saw the door in the shadows, huge and pointed.

      After he left, the others talked among themselves. The words hummed in the room like the low-level buzz of bees on a summer afternoon.

      Alexa unhooked the stick, pushed the hook into the short staff and took time to compose herself. Though the others watched her, no one was threatening. She loosened her muscles and kept upright. So many emotions and reactions to the night’s adventures tumbled through her that she kept a hard clamp on them and tried to use pure observation and reason. She glanced around the room while keeping an eye out for any more danger, holding the stick ready.

      The chamber, round and very large, was made of white stone. All the furnishings appeared to be the very best any world could provide. Around half the room ran a built-in stone bench with padded seats, jewel-toned large pillows and rugs around its base. Colorful tapestries of pastoral scenes alternated with bright banners showing coats of arms. Windows were set high in the wall, about two stories up, and were as pointed as the door.

      The altar was in the same quadrant as the pentacle and draped in maroon velvet, with a white lace over-panel. It held the bright rainbow of crystals—could they be huge precious stones?—the chime stick, two knives, a large smoking incense burner and two goblets, one of silver and one of gold.

      Alexa was just wondering if she dared explore when the door creaked open and the huge man walked in. The scent of a damp, cold night wafted in with him, along with the hint of a smokey fire. The humid mixture of odors wasn’t one Alexa would smell in Colorado. Her emotions threatened to break through the barrier she had erected. She couldn’t let go! She couldn’t afford to be seen as weak or vulnerable. She bit her bottom lip to keep it from trembling.

      The massive guy stopped in front of Thealia. He held a rolled bundle—Alexa studied it and exhaled in relief—nothing living or newly dead was in it.

      They talked a moment, then Thealia directed the others. They all formed a half-circle facing Alexa. Reynardus, still glowering, was the end of the half-moon to her left.

      The huge man entered the half-circle and laid his bundle on the floor before Alexa. Just bending from the waist put him eye level with her. He stared at her as he unrolled the cloth. It clinked a little, made sounds of wood and metal and glass. The cloth was made of quilted felt, and she could see seams between pockets. The man flipped back the top flap.

      Alexa reflexively retreated a step. The others murmured.

      Before her were four rows of ten pockets. Most showed the top of a stick like the one she held. All looked old and valuable and powerful. Imbued with magic.

      Thealia glided up, and the huge man took her former place in the half-circle. She gestured expansively to the sticks. “Batons,” she said. Or something close enough for Alexa to understand it. Batons. Were they the same as magic wands? What could they do? What did they signify? The healer hadn’t worn one. Nor did Marwey. But everyone else did.

      “Deshouse,” Thealia said, making the same sweep with her hand. When Alexa didn’t move, the lady frowned. She walked down the long row and indicated each pocket with one toe of an elegant slipper, as if demonstrating the word choose.

      Alexa got distracted by the slipper, peeking out and showing a narrow foot, then retreating under Thealia’s skirts. It was pointed and looked to have jewels set in a pattern like a flower—

      “Alyeka, deshouse!”

      Mind wandering. Not surprising after all she’d been through. Still, the evening of adventure and discovery wasn’t over. Alexa stiffened her spine and narrowed her eyes to see the batons better. She pressed her lips together as she concentrated, believing she could see faint outlines of energy. But how did she choose? By the attractiveness? The color and the jewels that appealed to her? By the “aura”? By smell? A couple of them were polished wood. Should she touch them?

      No. Definitely not touch each one. Who knew what sort of electrical, magical, whatever, charge she might receive?

      Still she felt as if she was coming to the end of her strength. If she needed to choose, she would. A smooth wand of dark green jade caught her eye. It looked slightly thinner than the others. Her fingers would close easier around it. The top was finished in tarnished bronze in the shape of flames, round at the bottom, pointed at the tips. Just below the metal was a small tube of a transparent material, glass or crystal, circling the jade. Now, that was interesting. What could the tube hold? Blood? She was definitely letting her imagination run away with her. There was another clear tube at the bottom of the staff.

      Each time her tired eyes traveled up and down the myriad sticks, they lingered on the jade baton.

      Alexa took a step forward and everyone hushed. She thought if she squatted she wouldn’t find the energy to stand again, so she bent forward to scrutinize the wand. She couldn’t see anything in the tube. She nibbled at her lip. When she looked up, she met the glare of Reynardus. Awkwardly she tossed him his baton.

      He grunted as he caught it. Ran his hands up and down it as if checking for new nicks. Then he sniffed it and scowled at her. His eyes seemed to sink into the deep shadows of his sockets until they were lost except for a gleam of distaste.

      Well, she probably had sweated on the thing. Or transferred some of the liquid from the pool to it. Still, sniffing seemed incredibly rude. She sent him a pointed glance and sniffed at him as if he were the inadequate one.

      He muttered something under his breath.

      “Sanctuaire!” reproved Thealia.

      He shut his mouth, but Alexa thought he still cursed.

      Minute trembling began in her calves and Alexa took the warning that she was at the end of her endurance. She slipped the jade wand from its pocket.

      It blazed like a green candle, parts of it becoming translucent and beautiful.

      The others sighed. She heard whispers of approval. Alexa blinked as she looked at the flame atop her new possession—her only possession besides her small fanny pack and clothes—Push