A housewife still in her apron kicked a seedie’s feet from under him and put a dagger in his eye, as neatly as if she were dispatching a chicken for the pot. An older man, screaming the battle cry of some defunct regiment, charged with ancient sword in hand, but tripped over the prone body of a seedie and went sprawling. Two other seedies immediately set about him with clubs, blood flying. A scared-looking boy crawled through the fighting, leaving a trail of blood from one leg, but when a seedie bent to finish him off, his victim surged back to his feet and buried a knife in the attacker’s throat.

Marcus, with his sword and his uniform, was evidently not a tempting target. The seedies gave ground rather than face him, and he cut down two men from behind when companions who’d been watching their backs fled. Another man came at him with a spear, which Marcus barely dodged, slamming the hilt of his sword down on the seedie’s hand as it went past. The man dropped his weapon and stumbled back, cursing.

Something dropped from the second story of the Silver Eagle building, a lithe black shape that landed in a crouch behind the mass of seedies. Two men nearby turned and raised their weapons, and steel flashed yellow-gold in the light of the bonfire. They both spun away, spraying blood into the dirt, and Sothe got to her feet with a long knife in each hand.

Marcus watched her fight with something like awe. In the army, personal close-quarters fighting skill had never been a priority, and those officers who had trained extensively with a sword had done so in the elaborately formal styles of official dueling. He’d seen Sothe fight once before, in the confusion at Ohnlei, but he hadn’t fully appreciated her skill. She didn’t fight the seedies so much as dismantle them, twisting and cutting through the press, moving on before her victims had time to topple. It was like watching a master craftsman at work, every motion neat and efficient, with no wasted energy or missed opportunities.

It wasn’t long before the seedies became aware of this new threat to their rear by the screams of the men Sothe left in her wake. A few turned to confront her, and were duly dispatched in showers of gore. The rest of them broke, scattering back from the terrifying assault and the continued efforts of the Leatherbacks. A ragged cheer went up from Marcus’ troops, who waved their makeshift weapons in the air and shouted curses at the retreating backs of the militia.

Sothe flicked each blade once, painting patterns of blood in the dirt, and returned them to their sheaths. She looked a little singed, and blisters were rising on one side of her face, but if they pained her she gave no sign as she nodded to Marcus.