room. She had nothing but the dagger in the small of her back. She went for it, but the Master smacked her arm with the flat of his blade. The dagger fell from her fingers and went clattering down the stone steps out of sight.
“A shieldmaiden, eh? Not a simple servant?” the Master said, his eyes glowing. “This will be fun.”
Jess kept her eyes on Dyved’s, judging where the next thrust would go. Above her, one turn of the spiral away, were dozens of swords, shields, spears, and maces that had belonged to heirs of past generations, but she had no weapon at hand. She saw nothing but a broom left behind by one of the scullery servants. Like lightning, she darted out a hand for it, catching Master Dyved’s blade just as he tried to cut off her head. She blocked blow after blow, until Dyved chopped the broom handle in half. Her hands sang with the shock of the blow. She dashed the pieces at him, catching him in the side of the face. Blood dripped from the torn corner of his mouth. Jess dashed upward, calling out.
“My lady! Guard yourself! It is an impostor! Lord Matew is his prisoner!”
The girl’s voice rang out as clearly as a tocsin. “None shall pass!”
“Oh, I think you’re wrong about that,” the Master said.
A hand caught Jess’s ankle and yanked upward. She fell on her face and slid downward against the wall. The shining boots passed her, going up the stairs three and four at a time.
Bruised, Jess crawled upward, hating the man with every step. She would kill him! He would not have her lady.
“What is this sorcery?” Master Dyved’s voice boomed. “Let me in!”
The escutcheon of the eighth archduchess hung on the wall at the third turning. Crossed upon its embossed metal surface were the spears with which the great lady had hunted boars, but stuck through the crest and helm at the top was Her Grace’s deadly leaf-bladed sword. Jess pulled herself to her feet and yanked it free. She ran the rest of the way up to Caitlin’s door . . .
. . . and stopped a flight below the landing. Spider’s webs stretched through the hallway. Master Dyved slashed through the mass without difficulty, though it covered him in draperies of gray. Was this Uthbridge’s manner of protecting Caitlin? The old wizard was useless!
Though Jess was trying to move silently, Master Dyved heard her and swung around. The sword met her borrowed weapon and flipped it out of her hands. He pinioned her against the wall with his leather-covered fist.
“Twice disarmed,” he said, grinning. “I think that means I win, don’t you?”
He shoved her. Jess tripped backwards, but saved herself from falling further, so she had a terrific view as the Master chopped at the last swathe of cobwebs covering the door.
With a deafening boom, the mass of gray ignited. Master Dyved screamed, and beat at his hair and skin to put out the flames. With a mental apology to Uthbridge, Jess picked up the duchess’s sword and charged at the Master. Blindly, he raised his sword to counter.
The door opened. The two of them stumbled into the room. Master Dyved fell on the floor beyond the threshold.
A knight in full armor met him, eight feet tall and brandishing a brand of blazing silver. Jess gawked.
“You shall not marry me,” Caitlin’s voice echoed from the cylindrical helmet.
Master Dyved, his hair and eyelashes scorched, scrambled to his feet. His leather gloves were blistered and torn, but he held onto his sword.
“What is this? Matew told me you were a dainty thing. He wouldn’t lie about that, would he?”
He slashed at her. Caitlin countered him, swept her sword up in a figure eight, and struck back. He parried the blade easily. He beat her back, one step, two steps, three steps.
He was too good for the girl’s limited skill. Jess rushed in to help, sweeping her blade down. She struck his right shoulder. He yelled with pain. Caitlin struck him in the back of the knee. Master Dyved went into a frenzy. He rained blows upon them, one after another. The two women parried each, but with every stroke, the glamor faded away until Caitlin was revealed in ill-fitting student’s armor and her wooden sword in her hand. She looked up at Master Dyved in dismay. He grinned ferally.
“That’s the girl I’m going to marry!”
“No!” Caitlin cried.
“Courage, my lady! Remember your lessons!” Jess ordered. “Exercise fourteen, now, go!”
Caitlin