Turn The Other Chick by Esther Friesner

Author:Esther Friesner
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Fantasy
ISBN: 0743488571
Publisher: Baen Publishing Enterprises
Published: 2004-11-01T04:00:00+00:00

Combat Shopping

Lee Martindale

Horatia waited until the battle was over before trying to dismember the mage.

That she was a professional accounted for a portion of her patience. That she was a trifle busy staying alive accounted for the rest. That the spell which dissolved her armor into a heap of unrecoverable slag around her ankles had come from the hand of a mage supposedly on Horatia's side of the conflict accounted for the warrior's less-than-collegial attitude.

Horatia had been dubbed "the Heroic" as much for her impressive dimensions as for her considerable prowess in battle. One look at those heroic, near-naked proportions moving toward her with deadly intent was enough to send the dainty mage scrambling up the nearest hairy, sweat-drenched warrior. Asaria made it to his shoulders and was seeking purchase on his head when Horatia peeled her off. Asaria managed one unladylike squawk before a sword-hardened hand closed around her throat and the arm to which it was attached held her eye-to-eye-level with the considerably taller battle-maid.

As her comrades alternated between laughing at the situation and admiring portions of the warrior they didn't normally see, Horatia glared. Then she growled, "Give me one reason, bann seighe bait, why I shouldn't scatter little bits of you from here to the borders of Keldaough."

The dangling mage opened her mouth to speak—whether spell or supplication is not known. But speech requires breath and taking one proved to be problematic. Next she balled delicate hands into delicate fists and beat an equally delicate—and ineffectual—tattoo against the arm that held her. She was starting to go limp, her usually ruby lips turning an unflattering shade of blue, when the company's commander arrived and bellowed at Horatia to "put that spellcaster down this minute!" Horatia blinked, came to attention, opened her hand and complied.

An hour later Horatia arrived at the commander's tent, wearing tunic and breeches and the wary demeanor of a mouse suddenly deposited into a loft full of cats. Asaria arrived shortly thereafter, moving stiffly from the bruises to the underpadded portion of her anatomy on which she'd landed. Both declined the seats offered by the commander.

"Then let us get right to the matter. As I understand it, the attempt by Horatia the Heroic to throttle Asaria Katri a short while ago was precipitated by the destruction of the former's armor by a misfired spell from the hand of the latter. Is that the way of it?"

"Aye, sir," Horatia answered, glaring at the other woman.

"I'm not sure what you mean by 'misfire,' Commander," Asaria began, her usually sweet voice hoarse and with an upper-register harmonic that made the others wince, "but I can assure you that no ill will was intended. These things happen occasionally; my apprentice has been chastised for his error in calculation. And now that we have that cleared up . . ."

"Not so fast, madam," the commander barked. He glanced at Horatia with a look clearly meant to nail her in place, then turned back toward the mage. "The cause may be identified, but the effects still remain to be put right.

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