"Shen! More drinks for the corner table!"

Nearby, a grizzled old guard looked up from his flagon of ale, and skewered the skinny barmaid with a penetrating stare. "That's an unusual name you've got there, Shen," he said. "Short for something, is it?"

The barmaid shrugged. Baugaur drank in the Mouse On The Table every night he wasn't working. He kept trying to catch her eye, but she refused to spare him a second look. Shen was quiet and hardened.

But telling him her name would surely do no harm. "It's short for Shenalah," she told him, as she arranged the drinks on a battered wooden tray for the rowdy bunch at the corner table.

Baugaur scratched his peppery stubble. "Shenalah, eh? That's Telesian, isn't it? I've some Telesian in my making, and you don't look like one to me."

"It's Atrathene," Shen said bluntly, already regretting getting into this conversation. She lifted the heavy tray and slipped out from behind the bar.

"I know it's Telesian," he muttered. "Why lie about it?"

She snaked her way deftly between the densely packed tables, ignoring the comment. She lied for a reason, but it was hers alone.

* * * *

The military had commandeered the big table in the corner. Nothing unusual, the Mouse was a soldier's tavern, the closest drinking den to the Cape Carey garrison. But these men were not of the garrison; they had a savage look Shen knew too well, the look of the Wolfpack. Drafted from out of town, they had arrived around midday with a great thirst. They drank heavily all afternoon, growing louder and more obnoxious as time wore on, and Shen approached with caution. The moons she had worked in the Mouse gave her confidence, but also a healthy sense of brewing trouble.

One of the younger guards had eyed her with interest when they arrived, and the ale enhanced his libido. As Shen leant to lay the tray of drinks on the table, he clapped one meaty hand on the top of her breeches. She pushed him off and retreated a step, glancing around for Nomi. It was all part of the job, but something in the young soldier's eyes set her skin crawling. She had seen it before.

"Come here." He gestured for her to sit on his lap, but she hung out of reach.

"I have to work," she said. "Did you want anything else?"

"You've got exactly what I want," the soldier leered. Shen's face grew hot. The others at the table laughed, encouraging him.

"Leave me alone," she told him. "I'm not interested, and I'd advise you not to try it."

"Oh, you'd advise me, would you?" He lunged for her, and with one swift movement pulled her onto his lap, trying to slide one hand up her shirt.

"There's not much of you, is there?" he mocked. Shen shifted position slightly, twisting her wrist, and the colour drained from the young man's ale-reddened cheeks as he glanced downwards in cold fear at the blade in her hand.

"Touch me again," she hissed, "and I'll cut it off. Is that clear?"

He swallowed hard. "Perfectly," he squeaked. Laughter spread around the table, but it died at the expression on her face.

"I'm glad we understand each other," she said, as she stood, feeling waves of hostility roll towards her.

She stalked back toward the bar, but paused mid-stride as the humiliated guard's voice echoed after her. "I'll wait for you after work, witch! I'll deal well with you for that!"

The faint swish of Shen's knife whispered in the silence of the tavern. She swivelled to face him, blade gleaming in her hand, reflecting light from the iron chandelier. "Would you care to repeat what you just called me?" Her tone was sweet; her face was not.

"Witch! Daughter of swine! I'll have you, you. . ." Whatever further unpleasantness the guard planned to heap on the slim girl were expelled in a breath as she hurled herself across the room and slammed full-tilt into him. The speed of her assault sent the young man sprawling over the table, showering ale up the walls and across the floor. His companions sprang up in alarm and annoyance at the waste of their paid-for drinks, but Shen heard none of it. She struggled to bring her dagger down to the exposed flesh of the man's throat, but he was Wolfpack trained, a killer who hunted with killers. He would not fall easily to her blade.

He threw Shen off him. She stumbled into a table of regulars, who yelled their support. They were used to these altercations. Hardly a week went by without a brawl of some kind in the Mouse, and Shen was usually in the thick of it. But even she had never tried to take on a whole squadron of Wolfpack before, and it was clear she had taken too big a mouthful this time. People looked around anxiously for Nomi as the pack closed in.

All six of the tall, armed soldiers formed a loose circle around her as the more intelligent of the bar's residents scrambled for safety. Shen faced them without visible fear. If they were to send her North, she wouldn't be going alone. She had looked death in the face before and experienced enough of life to know that sometimes death was better. But she wouldn't go without a fight.

"Witch! And daughter of witches!" the young man taunted her again. He regained his poise, but she knew she had made him look a fool, and he would not let it go unpunished. He took a step forward. "I'm going to give you the mercy of killing you here, rather than taking you to the barracks with us. Think of me on your way North, won't you?"

"At least I'll go North," Shen spat. "You're going straight to the Underland, Wolfpack scum!"

As she lunged for him, the pack dived on her, all knives and teeth. The kitchen door crashed against the wall, and the White Giantess strode into the fray. Nomi wielded an iron bar that looked like a toothpick in her great hand, and she slammed it down into the melee as if it weighed no more than a feather. Hardened Wolves scrambled aside before her onslaught, as she picked up a chair one-handed and threw it against the wall. Only Shen and the young guard still grappled in the pools of ale, and Shen was coming off worst. Her knife was kicked away across the floor, and now she fought with limbs and teeth. The young man's dagger opened her arm from shoulder to elbow, and he went for her throat as Nomi seized him from behind, lifted him high in the air, and threw him like a rag doll into one of the wooden pillars supporting the roof. He staggered to his feet, dazed and battered and looked up. And up.

The White Giantess stood almost eight feet tall and nearly as broad. Her skin was the colour of chalk, her eyes blazed red, and the iron bar she slapped into her hand could have killed a man easily. She scanned the room slowly as Shen scrambled to her feet and wiped the blood from her mouth.

"Are you all right?" she asked, in an unexpectedly kind voice.

Shen nodded, as big-hearted regulars helped her to a seat and plied her with ale to stop her trembling. Nomi paused, nodded at her, and turned to the cause of all the trouble.

The guard's eyes rolled wildly, and as Nomi advanced on him he managed to hiss to his companions, "What under the stars is that?"

Nomi's eyes were weak, but there was no faulting her ears. "My name is Nomi," she told him, hefting the iron bar with an ease born of experience. "This is my place, and I don't want you in it. Get out now, all of you!"

"But your girl attacked me!" the terrified guard protested. "She's insane!"

Shen grinned. Her expression held absolutely no humour. "The man who tries to touch me without my permission is either very brave, or very foolish. Which are you?"

"Shen," said Nomi, still in that incongruously gentle voice, "go and join Callum in the kitchen, will you? He can tend to your arm."

Shen stepped away reluctantly, knife hand twitching over empty air. She did not argue, but she hesitated by the kitchen door, determined to see the outcome of the fight.

Nomi turned once more to the hapless guard and raised the crowbar threateningly. "Did you touch her?" she demanded. "Did you?"

"I was just fooling," the man replied. "I didn't mean any harm. She should have more humour about her, the miserable witch."

"If you laid a hand on Shen, you're lucky to be alive at all," Nomi told him, "and if you stay here a moment longer, you're going to be leaving in a canoe. I suggest you go. Now."

* * * *

The strangers didn't need to be told again. They fled before Nomi's fiery eyes, and the regulars returned to their spilled pints, sensing the fun was over for the night. Nomi gestured for the second barmaid to take care of the mess, and headed for the kitchen, shaking her head over young men's foolishness. Behind her, Baugaur picked up Shen's knife that had been kicked under his stool by flying feet, and ordered himself another drink.

* * * *

Shen had come to the Mouse On The Table four moons previously, on the recommendation of a reputable horse-trader. He told Nomi the girl was honest and hard working, which turned out to be true, but he neglected to mention that she was also insane. Nomi discovered that small detail the night one of the regulars leant across the bar for a feel of the new barmaid's assets. Shen skewered the man's hand to the bar with her dagger and calmly went on serving while he screamed in agony. Nomi prised the man free.

When she questioned Shen about the incident, the girl shrugged indifferently. "No man touches me unless I say," was her only explanation, and Nomi had to be content with that. Good barmaids were hard to come by, and Shen, as long as nobody laid a hand on her, was good.

She found the girl in the kitchen, sitting on the table with her legs swinging, while Callum wrapped a bandage around her upper arm. Bruising coloured her mouth, but apart from that, she seemed relaxed about the whole incident. "Are you all right?" Nomi asked her.

"Fine."

This would be about the only response she would get. Shen was a quiet, reserved girl; Callum was one of the few people in Cape Carey she had opened up a little to, and even he knew hardly anything about her. She never answered a direct question, and sometimes she would cry when she thought he was asleep. Nomi and Callum both spent much time worrying about Shen, but there was nothing they could do if she wouldn't talk.

Later, Nomi warned her, "They may come back."

Shen nodded. "I know."

Nomi considered the matter for a moment. It was a late winter evening, not too busy. She could manage here with just the second barmaid. "Do you and Callum want to go now?" she asked. "Then you could walk together."

Shen frowned. "I lost my knife--"

"I'll look for it when I lock up," Nomi assured her. It appeared, for a moment, that Shen might argue with her. Instead, she nodded, lips set in a thin line.

"I'll be happy to walk with you, Shen," Callum said earnestly. "I can protect you."

Nomi turned away to hide a smile. He was a gangly, wiry lad some years Shen's junior, and Nomi privately doubted his ability to protect himself, let alone the hot-tempered barmaid. Still, darkness had fallen, and Cape Carey was not the safest place even in peaceful times. Callum's protection was preferable to none at all.

"Thank you, Callum." Shen smiled at him. "Let's just finish up here, and then we can go. I'd like that."

* * * *

The guard at the bar watched them slip unobtrusively away from the Mouse.

Baugaur was not the quickest of men, but his mind had pulled the enigma apart while he had been drinking, and put it together again in ways that sent bolts of fear through him. He turned the silver dagger over and over in his rough hands, running a finger over the intricately carved shape of a dragon on the handle. He looked up at the sound of the kitchen door closing behind Shen and Callum, and it was as if a torch flared in his mind.

"I know!" he whispered. "I know what it means!"

"What do you know, Baugaur?" asked the second barmaid, taking his empty flagon. "Another?"

Baugaur shook his head. "Best be getting on," he said. "Work tomorrow."

"That's never stopped you before," the second barmaid chided, but Baugaur merely pulled his fur around him and headed into the night. He did not spare a glance at the cloaked and hooded man who had been sitting quietly in the corner of the bar all night. His mind was on Shen.

* * * *

"Miss Shen, wait!" Baugaur caught up with the couple before they reached the Main Square. Shen looked at him sourly, but he didn't look like he'd be put off. "I need to speak with you . . . alone please," he said, throwing a meaningful glance at Callum.

"There's nothing you can say to Shen that can't be said in front of me," he said defensively. "I swore to protect her; I won't leave her alone."

"I'm more than capable of protecting myself against Baugaur."

Shen threw him an impatient glance. She'd not told him she had misplaced her knife. If she told him now, Callum would refuse to leave, and it was clear from Baugaur's face that he had something urgent to impart. "Callum, he's no fool. He's wise enough not to try anything. Wait on the Square; I'll be right with you."

He shook his head at her recklessness, but was not foolish enough to argue. Shen turned to Baugaur. "Make it quick," she said. "It's freezing out here." The wind from the North cut through her threadbare fur, sending snow flurrying in eddies around her booted feet.

Baugaur glanced around. "We're not overlooked here." He drew her into the guttering torchlight.

Shen felt a flicker of nervousness. "What do you want of me?" she said.

"I came to give this back to you." Baugaur drew the dagger from beneath his fur. "Perhaps you should be a bit more careful with it. It could easily fall into the wrong hands."

"Thank you." Shen took the knife and turned to go. "I'd hate to lose this. Maybe I'll see you later."

Baugaur's next comment stopped her like ice in her tracks. "I know, Shen. I know what your name means, and if you don't take more care where you wave your knife, other people will get to know too."

A bubble of sickness rose in her throat. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Shenalah. Telesian for 'exile'. Doesn't take too much working out if you know what the knife means." He frowned. "My family hail from Hierath, and I'm no fool. You should take more care."

"Will you tell them?" Shen palmed the knife, wondering if she could take him in cold blood.

Baugaur shook his head and lowered his voice to a whisper. "I'm loyal to the true king," he hissed, "and I hate those Wolfpack scum as much as any man. But you watch yourself, Lady. There's those smarter than me whose loyalties lie elsewhere. If they find you out. . ." He made an unpleasant cutting gesture across his throat with a forefinger, then bent and swiftly kissed her hand. "Long live the Queen." Before she could say more, he slipped into the shadows.

* * * *

Shen returned to Callum. She trembled, but would not be drawn on what had happened with Baugaur. "He was drunk, and rambling," she said, dismissing the incident. They parted company on the far side of the scaffold. The morning's victims hung from the Wolfpack's ropes, dancing jerkily in the biting wind. Hangings were so commonplace now that Shen wasn't even revolted by them anymore. She had grown numb to everything--except hate--walking through her days like a machine, doing what was needed to stay alive and little more. It was over half a year since her life had changed . . . that brief, violent summer that brought such darkness and pain. Even the joy of Rhodri's birth at the beginning of summer had been suffocated by the loss of Hierath, of Alex. Winterfest had come and gone, a joyless celebration without her home, with her husband dead and her son lost to her. She had turned to Callum in her grief, for comfort at night. He was the first person in a long time to show her affection, and she was grateful, but sometimes she felt strangely detached from the whole process, although she made the right sounds to please him. She could not bear to see hurt in his eyes.

"I think you should come home with me tonight," he said, a note of pleading in his voice.

Shen glanced at the shadows of the hanged men shifting in torchlight, and suddenly felt bone-weary, too tired to make love; almost too tired to stand up. She wanted to be alone, to think on what Baugaur had said. Her time was running out here. She turned to him with a sad smile. "I can't tonight. "Meganne has a big meal to organise for tomorrow; I promised I'd help. And I can see myself home from here."

She stood on tiptoe to give him a tender kiss goodbye. Then she slipped around the far side of the gallows and lost sight of him.

* * * *

Shen walked cautiously through the narrow cobbled streets. Houses were crammed together in this poorer part of town, four or five stories high in places. Looming out over the alleyway, they allowed only the thinnest sliver of light from the twin moons to reach the ground. Gaps yawned between the spindly houses like black toothless mouths, and Shen rested one hand lightly on the hilt of her precious dagger as she hurried along. She was not much given to fancies, but she did have a healthy fear of things lurking in dark places.

Her attention shot to a stirring in the shadows ahead of her; a rat the size of a small dog scampered down the side of a mound of rubbish and directly between her feet, wormlike tail slapping against the leather of her boot. She uttered a small cry of alarm, and stumbled. She would have fallen, but strong arms caught her from behind. A hand clamped down over her mouth, and she found herself lifted bodily in the air and carried, kicking and struggling, into the darkness.