There were constant scouting forays, of course, just to make sure that the enemy hadn’t found a way out of the trap, but that was the only thing like work going on for the Skybolts. That unwonted leisure was beginning to have an effect on the Company. Which is why I’m out here, and not in camp. In general, there were only three pursuits available to a mere when forced into idleness: gambling, drinking, and sex. Kero was too shrewd to be lured into the first, too cautious for the second, and as for the third—

I’m an odd fish in a pond full of odd fish, she thought, a little sadly. Between the sword and this so-called Gift of mine....

The Gift was the main reason she didn’t drink; when she did, her carefully-wrought shields came down, and the guard came off her tongue. Only once had she let that happen; she’d frightened a tavern full of hard-bitten soldiers into sobriety with the things she’d said about them. Only some fancy verbal footwork the next day enabled her to convince them that they’d misheard most of it, and luck had given her the rest. So she didn’t drink at all now; at least, not to get drunk and not in company, which set her apart from most of the rest of the Company.

She was terrified of what would happen if they ever did find out the truth. Mercs have too many secrets to appreciate anyone, even someone they trust, to be rummaging around in their minds. Every one of us was driven into this life by something, and most of us don’t want anyone else to know what that is. Even me. If anyone ever found out about this “Gift” of mine, I don’t know what I’d do.

The sword now—that set her apart in another way. She was Kethry’s granddaughter—that was no secret—and by now everyone seemed to have heard the song of “Kerowyn’s Ride.” It would have been impossible to hide the fact that she still had the blade; she wore it all the time, and wouldn’t take it off (so common gossip had it) if she went to bed with someone. Well, that wasn’t quite true-but she’d learned that being too far away from it could be torture.