banquet.
When the kitten started to play with Redrought’s braided beard, Thirrin knew there’d be no chance of getting any sense out of her father for the rest of the evening, so she decided to join the housecarls down in the lower hall.
She leaped off the royal dais and made her way toward the sound of throwing axes being hurled at a target, arriving just as one of them split the apple that had been placed in the center of the bull’s-eye. The massive blast of cheering almost knocked her off her feet, but she waded through the press of huge sweating men and women and demanded a turn. Shy she may have been in polite company and when facing the demands of well-mannered conversation, but Thirrin had no such fears among fellow warriors. Here she didn’t have to be polite or careful of her language; in fact, the housecarls usually spent the first few minutes apologizing for their own lack of manners. But once they got into the swing of things, all of that was forgotten and she was treated almost like the other young warriors, although her status was always carefully acknowledged.
A great shout went up: “The Princess is going to throw!” One of the warriors respectfully placed one of the smaller throwing axes in her hand.
“Give me something of a proper size,” she demanded indignantly, and nodded as a full-sized battle-ax was passed to her.
By this time the apple had been replaced on the target, and with a huge effort she hefted the ax, took aim, drew back, and hurled with such force she fell to her knees. When she dared to look at the target, she saw the apple neatly split in two at the foot of the thick throwing board. Laughing in relief, she accepted the cheers of the housecarls and allowed herself to be chaired around the tables.
From high up on their shoulders, Thirrin could see through the swirling tendrils of smoke down the length of the Great Hall. Some instinct drew her eyes to the huge doors just as they burst open and a blast of cooler air flooded in, cutting through the thick bank of smoke like a hot coal through snow. The hall fell silent, and Thirrin breathed deep as the blast of clean air reached her. The smoke had now been almost completely blown away, and she had a clear view of soldiers marching through the doorway, dragging a huge shaggy figure between them.
The troopers were wearing the uniform of the palace guard, and their business was obviously important, so some of the housecarls hurried to drag the trestle tables aside. Soon a wide aisle leading directly to the royal dais had been cleared, and the strange group began to march forward.
“Put me down,” Thirrin ordered. The men who’d been carrying the Princess on their shoulders placed her on the floor, and she cut through the crowds to reach the upper table as the soldiers arrived. It was then that she saw exactly what they were dragging between them. It was the werewolf. Its wrists were tied with thick ropes to a pole that lay across its shoulders, and it was surrounded by a ring of sharp steel as each guard leveled his spear and stood ready to strike at the slightest provocation.
The guards saluted the King. “My Lord, we bring the intruder from The-Land-of-the-Ghosts for sentence.”
After a fraught few seconds trying to disentangle a terrified Primplepuss from his beard, Redrought’s reply was curt and gruff. “You should have killed it in the field! Waste of effort bringing it here.” He stroked Primplepuss gently in an attempt to calm her. “And you’ll get blood all over the floor!”
Thirrin approached her father. “I claim the right of sentence!” she shouted, her voice echoing around the hall.
The werewolf turned to look at her, its huge face beginning to lose its ferocious frown as if scenting some distant hope but not daring to believe it.
The silence that followed was finally broken by the King. “You! Why?” he demanded, still grumpy after Primplepuss’s fright.
“Because I first drew its blood. Its life by ancient law is mine.”
Redrought considered for a moment, then said, “You’re right. How do you want it killed?”
Thirrin smiled in gratitude at her father and, as usual, he relented and smiled back. “I don’t want it killed. I want to escort it to the border and set it free,” she said carefully, still smiling through the uproar of protest.
“What?” the King roared in