Shale Swordmaster sat by the fire, staring moodily into the flames. Outside, the rain pelted hard against the roof of the cottage, and with each clap of thunder, Shale cast a glance upward, toward the loft. Nothing. Kanie must still be sleeping, undisturbed by the growls of Fram, the thunder god.

Earlier, Shale had slipped a tonic into Kanie's tea, hoping it would bring on a healing sleep. But the loud booming of the storm threatened to undo Shale's efforts. Shale frowned. Three months she'd lived in this miserable cottage, nurse-maiding. And Kanie was not making much progress toward recovery. How much longer, Shale asked herself, would she be stuck in this mud-hole of a village, because of the promise she'd made to Karl, her swordmate, to look after his young wife if anything should happen to him. Shale shifted uncomfortably in her chair and let out a light sigh. Well, Karl was dead, and a promise was a promise, after all.

Shale's thoughts were interrupted by a pounding at the door. Who, she wondered, would be out on a night like this when decent folks were tucked safely in their own homes? Reluctantly, Shale opened the door, and a woman came in out of the night, long wet strands of dark hair framing a face that might once have been beautiful but which now could only be described as haggard. There was nothing threatening in the woman's demeanor--quite the contrary in fact--but still Shale shivered uneasily as she observed the stranger, who dripped muddy pools of water on the freshly scrubbed floor.

"If you're seeking shelter from the storm," Shale said, with a grudging courtesy, "then enter and be welcome."

The stranger drew herself up. She was tall, Shale observed, and extremely thin. Her eyes blazed like dark fires against her pallid face.

"Please," the woman said, so softly that Shale had to bend forward to hear, "I've come seeking Shale Swordmaster."

Shale stepped back. "Do you know me?" The hairs at the nape of her neck prickled with suspicion. In the twenty years since she had earned the title of Swordmaster, she'd made her share of enemies. Hired assassins had stalked her steps before.

As if reading Shale's fears, the woman spread her open hands in a gesture of submission. "I heard that a retired mercenary of that name had come to Bryssdal shire. That's all."

Retired? Was that what was being said other? Shale scowled. If so, it was more than time that rumor be put to rest.

If only she hadn't promised Karl. "What do you want of me?" she said. "State your business."

"I wish to engage your services. I can pay you well."

At the mention of payment. Shale's mood lifted for a moment. Then she shook her head, remembering her sworn duty. "I'm sorry," she said, "I can't help you." The woman reached under her cloak, pulled out a pouch, shook it open, and held out the contents. Shale sucked in her breath.

"Firestones," she breathed. She reached out a finger and gently caressed one of the glowing gems.

The woman snatched the stones away and dropped them back into the pouch. "Yours if you succeed."

Shale stood for a long moment without speaking. Then she shook her head again. "I'm pledged here."

The other woman, who had seemed so strong and resolute only a moment before, collapsed into a small heap on the floor. She clutched her sodden cloak about her shoulders and rocked back and forth crying, "My baby, oh my baby. You must save my baby."

Shale stared, unimpressed by the theatrical display. And she winced inwardly at the mention of a baby. It was, in a certain sense, a baby that had gotten her into her current predicament.

"Shale..."

Startled, Shale spun around and there was Kanie, drowsy confusion in her eyes. Even the strongest herbs from the town apothecary had not been enough to ensure a whole night's sleep.

"I heard someone come in," Kanie said, tugging her flannel robe across her breasts. Then her gaze lighted on the stranger, who still lay in a heap on the floor. "Poor woman, what's the matter?"

A surge of concern pulsed in Shale's heart. Kanie was so small, so frail, so ill herself, and yet she could still spare sympathy for a stranger. Then Shale shook her head. What was the matter with her lately? Why was she getting so soft and sentimental? Duty held her here, nothing more,

"You should not be out of bed," she said gruffly. "I'll handle this." But Kanie kept her place.

The strange woman looked up, letting her eyes lock on Kanie's as if sensing sympathy there. "Oh, please, help me," she rasped. "They've stolen my child, my little girl, only two months old."

Shale saw the last vestiges of color drain from Kanie's checks and thought for a moment that the young woman might faint. Instead, Kanie ran forward and threw her arms around the huddled form of the stranger.

"Oh, Shale," she said, her voice choked with emotion, "you will help her, won't you?"

Greedily, Shale recalled the touch of the firestones. She knew her duty, but if Kanie insisted...

"Let us sit by the fire," Shale said to the stranger, "and I'll listen to your story and decide."

They seated themselves, and the stranger leaned toward Shale and said, "I'm called Anyel Marshdaughter. My baby has been stolen by the Sorceress Manarra, who spirited it away in the dead of the night. I want it back."