The threat shocked her into a defensive response: limbs rigid, arc weapons shut down; her AI concentrating all the suit’s energies on the point the bolt would strike.
There was no bolt. Hansen hit the woman with a crash like anvils meeting, gripping her by both wrists. Even at this range the black battlesuit was probably proof against Hansen’s arc—
But his mass and the momentum of his rush carried her backward a half-step until Hansen twisted and threw her over his knee. Krita skidded a meter in slick mud, her limbs flailing.
Hansen stepped back and let his arms hang at his sides. There was no way he could prevent Taddeusz’ daughter from taking whatever revenge she chose, but by standing braced he could at least keep from falling over again when she tripped out his circuit breakers.
Krita got up. Her suit streamed mud as if she were under a firehose.
Black fury. . . .
She turned and stamped back toward the palisade. One of the fir posts was in her path. Instead of changing direction, she lashed out with an arc that exploded the base of the post into blazing splinters. A patch of mud hardened to scorched adobe.
Malcolm split his armor and twisted his torso free. “My, my, my,” he murmured, watching Krita go.
Hansen opened his own suit also. The outside air turned his sweat into a cold bath. His breath rattled through his open mouth; he hoped his nose wasn’t broken.
“My, my,” Malcolm repeated. He looked at Hansen. “You know,” he said wonderingly. “I think you deserve each other.”
“Why wasn’t she fighting?” Hansen asked. “You know, yesterday?”
Malcolm looked at him oddly. “Women don’t go to war,” he said. “Not . . . not here.” His face hardened. “Not anywhere I want to be, either.”
Hansen withdrew his arms from the battlesuit and massaged his shoulders. The woman in black armor had disappeared into the palisade.
“That’s a waste,” he said, though it wasn’t quite what he meant; and anyway, he wasn’t sure what he meant. Cultural factors didn’t make a lot of sense here on Northworld—or anywhere else Nils Hansen had been or heard of.
“North has his Searchers,” Malcolm said, “and if it were in our Krita’s gift, she’d be one of them, you bet.”
“Searchers?” Hansen said.
His mind was suddenly back in gear. While he fought Krita, he’d been locked into the notion that only the next microsecond mattered. “Searchers. That’s the—black shutters opening and closing? During the battle yesterday?”
“Black wings, yeah,” Malcolm agreed, wary again. “Some people say that, I’ve heard. Nothing I know about myself.”
His mouth quirked in a false smile. “Nothing I like to talk about much, to tell the truth.”
So there was a way to North . . . maybe.
Hansen thrust his hands back through the armholes and prepared to close his suit over him again. “All right,” he said. “Let’s get to it. There’s a lot I need to learn about this suit before I use it for real.”
Malcolm laughed. “Well, you don’t have very long to manage that, do you?”
Hansen started to pull the clamshell shut. “Eh?” he said as he strained against the dead weight of the armor. It gave slowly, pivoting like the door of a cell across his view of Malcolm.
“Didn’t you know?” called the veteran’s voice. “The Lord of Thrasey defied Golsingh also. We’ll be—”
Hansen’s suit slammed shut. His display flickered to life, and the conclusion of Malcolm’s statement buzzed with static.
“—fighting him in three days.”
Chapter Twelve
The palace in which Penny lived was a thing of curves and pointed turrets joined by sweeping walkways. Balconies jutted from beneath arched windows, and flagstaffs streamed pennons in the breeze. The walls were slabs of pink marble with pearly inclusions, while the grilles and railings were pure yellow gold.
A central spire, slim and twice the height of any other portion of the palace, swelled at the top into an onion-domed suite.
“I always find it breathtaking,” said Rolls dryly from the saddle of his giant elk.
“Indeed, my lord,” said Fortin. He walked at Rolls’ left stirrup and wore Roll’s livery as though he were one of thirty human retainers accompanying their master on his visit to Penny.