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these weapons are more than sufficient to keep an enemy at bay. No one could
hit anything beyond a hundred paces, anyway."
I simply smiled. "Tell that to an elf, Tybalt - but be prepared to have him
chuckle at you. As for me, I've seen them do it. I've also seen dwarves do the
same thing, with siege crossbows that have a pull of twenty stone and can send
a bolt completely through platemail armor, through the torso of the warrior
beneath, and out the other side. Dwarven firearms don't shoot as far, but then
again they reload faster than a crossbow, so it balances out."
Tybalt just stared at me. "I beg your pardon, my lady - please don't think I'm
doubting you, but..."
"Yes?" I asked.
"Just how do you know all this?"
I smiled again. "Well, I can't tell you, Tybalt - but I can say that Darian's
choice of me as his tutor forty-five years ago wasn't by accident. I can
honestly say that there are few individuals in the world he could possibly
have approached for a better education in the art of war."
Tybalt reached out to me, gripping my upper arm. "Please, tell me... I have to
know something, and it's very important."
"What is it?"
"Did you... Did you know the witch who fought in the War of Liberation? The
one who commanded the Army of Darkness?"
"Pardon?" I asked, surprised.
"Please, I must know. Are you her?" Tybalt asked, his face unreadable.
"No," I replied after a moment. After all, can any man truly claim to be the
same man they were forty-five years before?
"Did you know her?" he asked, still gripping my arm.
"Yes," I replied calmly. After all, who alive could say they knew me better
than I knew myself?
"Were you related in some way? You look to be her sister. Her face was a
little different than yours... Softer, perhaps. I don't know. I noticed that
the first day I met you, but dismissed it as it seemed so impossible. Now, I'm
not so sure."
"Why do you want to know, Tybalt? Are you worried I might actually be her, and
be a threat to the king? If so, please don't worry. I doubt the king would
have knighted me if he thought I was a love-sick, insane witch," I replied
dryly.
"No, that's not it at all. I..." he said, then let his arm drop from mine.
"I'm sorry. I must know, though. Were you her sister?"
I thought about my answer carefully before I replied. "We shared a line of
consanguinity, yes, but we were not sisters. More than that, I'd rather not
say - it is a rather personal matter to me," I replied - an answer which was
completely truthful.
Tybaltm sighed, and turned to look off the battlements, leaning against the
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crenellated stone wall. "I'm sorry - I had to ask."
"Alright - but why did you want to know?"
"I..." he said, then sighed. "I don't know her relation to you. Cousins, I'd
imagine, given your similarity. You may not have cared for her much. To be
honest, few did - not even the king. He used her to obtain the throne, then
destroyed her. She was like a rabid dog. But..." He said, his voice trailing
off into silence.
"But what?" I asked, wondering what was on Tybalt's mind.
"I felt sorry for her. She was insane - she couldn't help herself. The king
used her, played upon her insanity, and turned her against his enemies. Yes,
perhaps she was evil. But often I wondered if she couldn't have been helped...
Perhaps even cured, with sorcery? I don't know. I'm no mage, I'm just a
soldier. I only know that on the few times I saw her, I didn't fear her. I
pitied her. Writhing in the dirt and mud, nearly naked, insane with love for
the king, and yet he was already married to Joy, and was using her as merely a
weapon..." he said, then shook his head, as if dismissing the memory. "Bah.
I've said too much, and taken up too much of your time, My Lady. Please - let
me take you to the royal classroom. The schoolmaster should be getting there
shortly, and you can meet him there," he said, turning back to me and smiling
as he held out his hand.
I considered pressing him for more, but then discarded the thought. My real
identity wasn't a subject I wanted to discuss around him, anyway. I merely
smiled and let him lead me back into the castle.
The schoolroom turned out to be reasonably well equipped - there were two
student-desks and a lecturer's podium, and a small chair set to one side by a
table. A large slab of slate was set into the wall, apparently for use as a
chalkboard. I examined what remained on the board - simple mathematics, for
the most part. The wall opposite the door had a short shelf, upon which were
two dozen books and four scrolls. Noril was already there, a small slate and
piece of chalk atop his desk next to his textbook. He rose briefly to nod his
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