Lieutenant Jimson smiled and said, “Thank you. I do appreciate your companionship on this journey. It seems we will be traveling together for some time, and I would like to consider you all friends. Please, call me Jimson or Jim, if you prefer.”

“Yes, please, let us dispense with the formalities. It does get so tiresome,” Frisha said pleasantly even though her mind was still stewing over Rezkin’s interest in the woman at the adjacent table.

Abruptly, and to the surprise of his friends, Rezkin stood and strode over to the table where the young woman sat listening to their conversation. All three of his companions were shocked. Frisha was just managing to contain her fury, poorly.

“Good evening, Mistress,” Rezkin said with none of his usual charm. The woman’s back stiffened, and her hands darted below the table. Without waiting to be asked, Rezkin sat in the seat across from the woman and leaned forward, holding her with his icy stare. “Since you were so intent on our conversation, I thought perhaps you would prefer to speak with one of us directly.”

The woman was young. She could not be any older than Frisha. She had golden blonde hair swept up into a high tail at the back of her head. She wore a long brown tunic that went to mid-thigh over loose, dark pants. Her pants were tucked into high boots like a cavalryman might wear.

What was most unusual about the young woman was that she was wearing worn but serviceable armor. The armor looked slightly too large for her small frame and had probably once belonged to a young man. She was armed with a dagger and short sword at her belt. The sword’s leather-wrapped scabbard was worn and frayed, but the leather grip on the hilt was new. On each arm was a vambrace into which was tucked a small knife. Large hazel eyes stared back at Rezkin, blinking in surprise.

“I wasn’t—”

“Yes, you were. What is it that you want?” Rezkin’s tone was brusque and assertive, brooking no argument.

The young woman’s shoulders slumped, and she instantly looked younger than she had a moment ago. “Oh, alright. You win. I heard you talking about going to the tournament. I was going to approach you to see if I could travel with you. I want to compete.”

Rezkin’s brow arched in surprise. “You want to compete? I was beginning to think that no outworlder women learned such Skills.”

The young woman lifted her chin in defiance. “I don’t know what an outworlder is, but it certainly has nothing to do with being a woman. I am a warrior.”

“Is that so?” he said. “Then you know how to use that sword?” He nodded toward her weapon.

She shifted uncomfortably and replied, “I do,” but it was not the kind of response one would expect from someone confident in her abilities.

“What is your name?” Rezkin asked.