All this came out in a rush, as if he’d been holding it in for much too long. Kero realized as she listened to him that she felt oddly sorry for him.

Maybe too much power and position is as bad as too little.

“So what are they forcing you into?” she asked quietly. “There must be something.”

He sighed, and winced halfway through as the sigh moved ribs that probably hurt. “I like the idea of planning things, and I like fighting practice, ” he said. “It’s like a dance, only better, because in court dances you spend an awful lot of time not moving much. But—I’ve never—actually killed anyone—”

“I have,” she said without thinking. “It’s not like in the ballads. It’s pretty awful.”

She felt him wince again. “That’s what I was afraid of,” he confessed. “I’m afraid that—I won’t be able to—” He swallowed audibly, then seemed to realize what she’d said. “You’ve killed someone?” he said, his voice rising again,

“Well, the sword did—”

“You’re that Kerowyn?” he squeaked. She couldn’t tell from his voice if he was pleased or appalled.

“I’m what Kerowyn?” she asked. “I didn’t know there were more of me.”

“The one the song’s about, the one that rescued the bride for—” he faltered. “—for her brother—with her grandmother’s magic sword.”

“I guess I must be,” she said wearily, “since there can’t be too many Kerowyns with magic swords around. The sword did most of it. It was more like it was the fighter, and I was the weapon.”

“If I’d known you were that Kerowyn,” he began. “I wouldn’t have—”

“You see?” she said through a clenched jaw. “Why should it have made any difference in the way you treated me? Deciding that someone’s serious just because they’ve had a bloody song written about them is a pretty poor way to make judgment calls, if you ask me. Grandmother and Tarma had plenty of songs written about them, and most of them were wrong.”

“It’s just—just that when I heard the song—I wished I could meet you,” he whispered. “I thought, that’s a girl that I could talk to, she doesn’t have any stupid ideas about honor, she just knows what’s right. And then she goes and does something about it.”

“Well, you’re talking to me now,” she replied sourly, hunching herself up against the bed of leaves, wishing she could find a position that hurt a little less.

“I guess I am.” Another long silence. “So what was it really like?”

“If I hadn’t been sweating every drop of water out of me, I’d have wet myself,” she told him bluntly. “I’ve never been so scared in all my life.”