The Will of the Empress - By Tamora Pierce Page 0,83

unravelling. Men slid to the ground, reins in their hands, stumbling as they landed in piles of leather and cloth. Their belts gave way as Sandry's thread magic called to the stitches that held the buckles in place. Leather-wrapped weapon hilts came apart in their owners' fists. By the time Sandry was done, twenty naked men surrounded them. Only a few still held the better-made swords. Even the binding that secured the double-headed axe to its haft came apart, leaving Dymytur to scrabble for the sheathed sword that lay among his belongings. The horses fled, unnerved by the feel of things coming apart on their sensitive backs.

"I'd surrender if I were you," yet another of Sandry's guards advised. "She's been nice. She hasn't asked the redhead to look after you. The redhead isn't at all nice."

"I've been working on it," complained Tris.

Ambros looked at the ring of naked men. "Do you know, I would have thought that, for a mission to kidnap a young girl, you'd all be better... equipped."

"That's why we needed her, curse you!" snarled Yeskoy. "A plumply dowered heiress — do you think one of the imperial pretty boys will serve you any better, Viymese Clehame?" Although he was covering his private parts, he still managed to look fierce. "You'd best get it into your head, magic or no, you'll be married soon enough. You won't hold your nose so high when you've a belly full of brats and you're locked up in someone's country castle while he prances for the empress!"

Tris looked at Sandry. "What do you say? There's hail coming in the next storm. I could hasten it along, bring the hail down here. By the time I'm done, they'll look like they've been kicked by elephants."

Sandry leaned forward. "I will never marry in Namorn, willing or no," she said, her voice low and ferocious. "Never, never, never. Get out of my sight, before I tell my friend to send for that hail."

Dymytur hesitated, his eyes still on Sandry. His uncle snarled wordlessly and dragged him back, away from Sandry's group.

"The empress has mages, too!" Dymytur shouted, enraged. "Great mages who will tie up your power in a wee bow, so you'll marry whoever she pleases as she commands, then you'll see about your never-never-never!"

He turned and ran for the nearby woods, his kin and his warriors following at a stumbling trot. Sandry spat on the ground in disgust, and kneed her mare forward down the road, After a moment's hesitation, Ambros and their guards followed. Tris remained behind for a moment, undoing one of her wind braids. She drew out a fistful of its power, held it on her palm while she gave it a quick stir with a finger, then turned it loose. It circled the area in a powerful blast, strewing leather and cloth all over the wide fields around the road. Only then did she follow the others.

*

Sandry fumed in silence all the way back to the castle. How dare these people? she asked herself silently, over and over. How dare they? What gives them the right to assume they may tell me how I am to live? They don't know me. They don't even care to know me. They look at me and all they see is a womb and moneybags.

"Do people do this with your daughters?" she demanded sharply of Ambros after they had ridden several miles.

Her cousin cleared his throat. "Only a fraction of women are at risk. If a woman is already bound by marriage contract, like most of the young ladies at court, she is considered untouchable. There are women and girls who are related to families or individuals considered too powerful to offend, like Daja's friends in Kugisko, the Bancanors and the Voskajos. The rest of us keep our daughters close to home in their maiden years."

"And it's considered safe to offend my family?" Sandry asked, her voice cutting.

"The head of your family is the empress," Ambros murmured. "And the empress wants you to remain here."

Sandry suggested what the empress could do about it in words she had learned from Briar.

Ambrose flinched and shook his head. "It was folly of me to let us come out with less than two squads of men, but we needed every free hand for the ploughing. I thought we would be safe enough inside our borders. Holm and Haugh must be desperate, to strike at you here." He frowned. "And someone from Pofkim must have been in their pay,