Chapter 1

Today was the day.

Gypsy Theron reached the weapon master's shop at dawn, just as she planned. The low early morning fog that left her boots damp had begun to dissipate. She watched from across the road as the old man folded aside the wood panels that fortified his shop front. He seemed intent upon his work, mesmerizing her with his easy grace as he set his merchandise out for sale. His long gray robes were clean and pressed but hung heavily off his gaunt frame. The gray was a poor choice for him, making his green skin look ashen and dusty with age. His weathered face was deeply carved with heavy lines and his body moved with the stiffness of arthritis.

When he had finished setting up for the day, Gypsy moved forward and greeted him. "Good morning, old father," she said.

He squinted at her and leaned against a thick wooden post that held the roof up. "A good morning to you as well, young miss," he said, returning her greeting with a suspicious grin. "How may I serve the general's daughter? Come to purchase a new weapon for your father?"

"No," she corrected, running her finger gently along the blade of a battle-axe set out for display. "This weapon is for me."

The weapon master stared at her, his mouth set in a thin line. He picked up a leg sheath with a small knife buried within. "A dagger, perhaps?" he offered. "Definitely suitable protection for a young lady."

Gypsy turned to face the man. "I don't need a dagger. What I need is a battle-worthy sword for the tournament this morning."

The old man cast his eyes to the ground. She knew he thought she was insane. They all did. To look at her, he would have every reason to think so, for she looked every inch the humanoid her mother was. She was no obvious match for a six-foot-plus AEssyrian warrior. But the warrior's life was what she'd chosen, even if she did have to break all the known rules of womanly conduct.

A few thin clouds veiled the twin suns for a few moments, then passed quickly away as they stood there in silence. When the weapon master looked up to meet her gaze again, his eyes were clouded in shame. He looked as if she'd undressed herself in public.

Clearing his throat, he said, "I have a few blades that might meet your needs." He moved deeper into the store, his boots scraping heavily on the wood planks. He came to a wall where three short swords hung. Two of the blades were straight and one was curved.

Gypsy chewed her bottom lip. Her sword knowledge was seriously sparse. She had tried to learn as much as she could by reading the books in her father's library, but most of them were somewhat dated. She didn't recognize any of the swords in the shop and thus knew nothing about them. She decided it was better not to ask, he probably would mislead her anyway. Certainly one blade was as good as another.

Two grizzled soldiers stalked into the shop and gave her a curious glance. I'd better not take too long or I'll look like a novice.

Finally, she pointed at the curved short sword. "That one," she said. "I'll take that one."

The main gates to the arena were massive wooden doors that dwarfed the guards before them. They were usually open to allow for visitor access, but they were now closed, indicating the tournament had begun. Gypsy approached the posted guards, her stomach twisting nervously.

Walking up cautiously, she approached the shorter of the two guards--a warrior of about six-foot-two with a scarred lip and a corporal's insignia on his uniform. He eyed her suspiciously.

Gypsy arched her back, trying to look taller. "I need to get inside," she said in her most commanding voice. "I'm a contestant."

The corporal's face settled into an angry scowl. "What is this, a joke?"

Gypsy cursed under her breath for getting here late. If she'd arrived a few minutes earlier, she would have blended in with the crowd and avoided this annoying interrogation. "No, it's not a joke," she said coolly. "Check your list. I'm on there as one of the combatants."

The corporal snorted and shot a look at his companion. The other man shrugged and they both opened the gates. Squeezing her sword tightly, Gypsy slipped inside and melted into the crowded darkness.