“It was true; it was somehow not even a surprise, more like a truth that had grown for some time on the edge of his awareness, now brought into sharp relief. He thought: two thrones for the price of a few hire swords and a dose of pleasure drug.”

“And any hope Damen had that Laurentcould control this scene ended asLaurent's face shuttered, as his eyes wentcold, and with the sharp sound of steel,his sword came out of its sheath.”

“Even before Laurent had hit the ground,the man had drawn his sword.Damen was too far away. He was too farto get between the man and Laurent, heknew that, even as hedrew his sword--even as he wheeled hishorse, felt the powerful bunch of theanimal beneath him. There was only onething he could do. As the spray of watersheared up from under his horse, hehefted hissword, changed his grip, and threw.It was, emphatically, not a throwingweapon. It was six pounds of Rabatiansteel, forged for a two-handed grip. Andhe was on a moving horse, and many feetaway, and the man was moving too,towardsLaurent.The sword drove through the air andtook the man in the chest, ramming intothe ground and pinning him there.”

“He became aware of a man drawnalongside them, frozen in stillness evenin the midst of battle, andknew that what had just happened hadbeen seen, and overheard.He turned, the truth on his face. Strippedbare, he could not hide himself in thatmoment. Laurent, he thought, and liftedhis gaze to meet the eyes of the man whohad witnessed the last words of LordTouars.It wasn't Laurent. It was Jord.He was staring at Damen in horror, hissword lax in his hand.”

“He's private about it. You saw hispersonal training ring, inside the palace.He'll go a few rounds with some of theguard occasionally, with Rochert, withme--laid me out a few times. He's not asgood as his brother was, but you onlyhave to be half as good as Auguste to beten times better than everyone else.”

“He killed, his sword shearing, shield and horse a ram, pushing in, and further in, opening a space by force alone for the momentum of the men behind him. Beside him a man fell to a spear in the throat. To his left, an equine scream as Rochert's horse went down.In front of him, methodically, men fell, and fell, and fell.He split his attention. He swept a sword cut aside with his shield, killed a helmed soldier, and all the while flung out his mind, waiting for the moment when Touar's lines split open. The most difficult part of commanding from the front was this--staying alive in the moment, while tracking in his mind, critically, the whole fight. Yet it was exhilarating, like fighting with two bodies, at two scales.”

“A minute or two more and Orlant disengaged, and swore. 'Are you going to fight me or not?'You said we were sparring,' said Damen, neutrally.Orlant flung down his sword, took two steps off to one of the watching men, and pulled from its sheath thirty inches of polished steel straightsword, which without preamble he returned to swing with killing speed at Damen's neck.”