Previous file.

Narrator:

Some time later, in a tent at the encampment. Richard is undoubtedly there. Probably Luther and Sister Anne. Don't know who else....

Blackbird awakens to the sound of drums.

Blackbird: [unspoken]

Drums? Who's playing drums? It's dark. No, my eyes are closed. And I've got a terrible headache. I wish they'd stop those drums.

omigod. Those aren't drums.

Should we try the eyes?

Richard? Where am I? Arundel?

This is a tent. It's not Arundel.

Last thing I remember was ... some big-mouthed wench ranting away at me about horses or something.

Sir Richard:
Go slow, please. We don't want you to pass out again.

Narrator:

Sister Anne hands her a cup of something warm.

Blackbird takes it absently, and drinks.

Blackbird: [unspoken]

Horses. That rings a bell. Something to do with why there's a heavy rhythm section practicing in my head. I got kicked? Yeah. I got kicked. How did I get kicked?

This is tea.

Sister, this isn't nearly strong enough to mellow out the crowd that's partying in my head. Is there a bottle of whiskey handy?

Oh, well.

I'm in McMannon! Yeah. I was riding around the camp, telling stories to the soldiers, and I get to Jhereg's camp and see the pennants of half the nobility on York. I'm going to check, and I bump into Richard, Jhereg, that little ugly guy -- Luther, and...

How long have I been out?

Sister Anne:

Only a few minutes this time. I didn't think it wise to let you sleep too long at a stretch so soon after such an injury.

Narrator:

The observers are treated to a fascinating display of emotions. It looks as if she can't decide whether to be angry, embarrassed or worried.

Anger wins out. No big surprise.

Blackbird: [starting to seethe. it makes her feel better -- rage is a wonderful cure for nausea.]

Where is he? Where's that pig-brained excuse for a knight and where's his wyvern-spawned beast?

Hesketh: [coolly.]
If you are referring to Sir Luther, he is valiantly attempting to emulate behavior more fitting with his station, making such an address unfitting.

Otherwise...

Narrator:
Luther, closer to Blackbird than Hesketh, laughs.

Blackbird: [setting feet to the floor, but getting warning signals that she's not ready to stand yet]

Pig! Don't even begin to lecture me about hitting your horse. The cursed beast made the wisdom of that action quite plain. None of it would have happened if it weren't for your astounding notion that it is good fun to assault people from behind and fling them into foul creeks like two day old garbage.

Nobody deserves to be treated that way! Especially when they are escorting *me.* I demand an apology and an admission of wrong-doing. Not to me, but to Sir Luther.

At first, all I heard was knightly indignation

"How *dare* he talk to a noblewoman like that!"

Well, in case nobody noticed, *I* wasn't offended.

I have more affection to a man who compliments me like a common soldier than one who attacks my escort like a common reaver.

Yes, what a *fine* example of nobility you set for Sir Luther. Far better to attack an unsuspecting foe than to offer an Anchor a drink. To be honest, it fits well with what I've observed of the chivalric species.

I became an Anchor because I deemed I was not worthy of my name, but if this is an example of what it means to be noble, then I am glad I am no longer.

Narrator:

She finally stops for breath. She seems to deflate and to Richard's utter amazement, she begins to weep quietly.

Hesketh: [cold. Hard as nails]
Luther has acted merely boorishly. He and I have already come to an agreement. He'll not insult me, my sister, Baron d' Arundel, Lord Jhereg, or The Holy Sister who tends you now and I'll not throw him into the water. While his behavior may not offend you, it did me; as a man, as a Hesketh, a knight, as a noble, and as a fellow citizen of McKitrick.

Blackbird: [looking up. still crying. unspoken]
But that's just because you're a walking abomination with the conscience of a Drow queen, wrapping yourself in some self-serving code that you mistake for honor. So sorry, I'm afraid it's a terminal condition.

*You* have acted like a common thief. In front of a witness you did strike at a noble from behind with a weapon. -

Narrator:
FLASHBACK! While Hesketh continues talking, Blackbird "swaps out" for a few seconds. Eyes glaze, nausea hits, fight/flight reflex kicks in for a profound set of the shakes.

"...penalty for attacking a nobleman is..."

She's 14 and back on the streets of Harrogate, reliving one of the worst nights of her life. The memory is perfect; she is reliving it; sights, sounds - especially the sounds little bones make when crushed - the hands on her body. She makes a sharp intake of breathe to scream, but she's back in a tent in McMannon and gets her mouth shut in time to cut off the scream that was forming. All she remembers of Hesketh's words are his last - "will you make the oath?" She syncs up and tracks what Luther is saying.

But underlying it all is a deep seated fear. It frightens her to the core that there might be something wrong with the way her head works. With her memories. With *her*. For a very long millisecond she desperately wants nothing more than for Ti to tell her she's OK.

Hesketh:
- - Your actions made it clear to all that you have renounced any claim of noble birth. Baron d'Arundel has intervened on your behalf. If you will swear to it that you will let the matter drop, I will decline taking action against you.

Will you make the oath?

Luther:
Miss, I'm real sorry you got hurt in this. You see, this is a little game that Hesketh and I play. Every time we meet, he tries to convince me how I should "behave more befitting the man whose station I presume to emulate". And, at the same time, I try to get him not to run around the Realm like he's got a lance rammed up his butt.

If I'd known.... well, usually when he does something like that, *HE* gets the girl.

Narrator:
The flashback is still vivid in her mind. And other images join it: a wise old man crumples to the ground, entrails spilling from between fingers clutching a ruined abdomen, a dwarf flies through the air, children's voices chant taunts, teenage boys leer. And over and over the words echo in her head "the penalty for attacking a nobleman." Sometimes in Hesketh's voice. Sometimes in another. She pushes the fear away from her.

Blackbird: [unspoken]
I am a San Sebastian. I do not fear. I do not forget. (So if that wasn't fear, what was it?)

And I'd rather die than swear an oath to you, pitiful coward.

You-

Narrator:
Her words are cut off by Jhereg's entrance.

Blackbird: [unspoken]
-monster.

Jhereg: [stepping into the tent]
Enough! By my authority I declare this matter finished. Sir Hesketh, any attack to your honor or your person has been satisfied by the near death of the Anchor Blackbird. No oaths are necessary, the matter is closed.

Besides, it would be a cold day in hell before she would swear that oath.

Hesketh: [to Blackbird, softly]

You will abide Lord Jhereg's ruling?

Where did you go just yet? I doubt that I just sprouted horns, but your visage...

Blackbird: [betrayed look at Richard]

It's hopeless. They're all the same, since I was old enough to understand what they were saying. These pitiful noblemen. Even you, Richard.

You're bluffing, Hesketh. My renunciation of my name was a personal matter, with no legal pronouncement attached. Should you actually attempt to try me as a commoner, I think you might find you'd attracted more trouble than you ever thought possible. All that would be necessary would be for my father to publicly claim that my status was restored and it would be so. And he would do it if I was in such danger. But it doesn't matter. I chose to be Blackbird, and I won't be so weak as to go running back to Evaine for protection.

I was ever the daughter of a slave girl and an outsider, and the double standard will always apply. I am proud to be the daughter of my father; he is not like you. We are San Sebastian, and do not hide behind laws made for tyrants and cowards.

You are without honor Hesketh, and I despise you, but I know better than to fight from weakness.

I will abide.

But there will be a time...

Jhereg: [in his best friendly but official voice]
Silence. I will hear no more from either of you on this matter. Sir Hesketh you may wait outside as I would speak further with you.

As for you, I want no more trouble in my camp. The penalties for a commoner who strikes a noble are quite severe as you well know. Your position as an Anchor mitigates your actions somewhat but I will not stand for any further trouble. A woman with your obvious attractions could wreck havoc in this camp. See that it doesn't happen!

Blackbird: [in a tongue nobody in the room understands]

Mientras gente como tu domine el mundo, habra canciones tristes que cantar.

Jhereg: [looks puzzled. turns and exits.]

I'm sorry Evaine but you left me no choice.

We see Jhereg next here.

Blackbird: [after Hesketh and Jhereg have both left. bows her head]
I'm sorry, Luther. I'm so sorry. I couldn't win -- not without becoming like him.

Luther: [natural voice louder than her head likes]
Yeah. You wouldn't be nearly as much fun six feet tall, built like an ox and twice as stubborn.

The line cuts through Blackbird's self-pity like an ax.

Blackbird: [smiles. looks over at Luther. grins. begins to giggle. the giggles turn into helpless laughter, punctuated by exclamations of pain]

her head, the other holding her stomach. laughing.] Oh, god, stop.

Oh, thank you, Luther. You're still the most gallant here. The only one with courage. I'm *very* proud of you.

Sister Anne:
Sir Luther, she really should get some rest. Why don't you leave now?

Narrator:
Luther starts to protest, but is once again fixed with the "Not under discussion" stare of Sister Anne's. Luther looks at Blackbird.

Blackbird: [to Anne]

He's not going anywhere.

Narrator:
Sister Anne and Blackbird lock eyes. A fierce battle of wills is taking place.

Blackbird: [impishly]

I insist on having Sir Luther wait with me until I'm ready to return to my wagon. If he really thinks all this is his fault then I charge it as his penance. If you *don't* let Luther stay, I *won't* be a nice patient. I won't rest, I won't stay still, I'll throw a tantrum and I'll make myself twice as sick as I am already.

In other words, I'll behave like a two-year-old deprived of her teddy. Go ahead, Sister, make my day.

Sister Anne:
You are already not acting like a nice patient and if you keep it up you will make yourself twice as sick as you were when we started putting you back together. So I don't see how his leaving will change anything.

Please get some more hot water - with that laughing fit, Blackbird will need more herbal tea soon. Some food for all of us would also be appreciated. Yes that means you can stay when you get back - provided Blackbird cooperates.

Narrator:
With that, Luther leaves the tent. Upon exit, he walks past Jhereg and Hesketh. Jhereg is obviously still talking with Hesketh. Even if Luther wanted to interrupt, it would be ill advised. Rather, as he passes, he reaches up and just pats Hesketh on the back. The actions needs no response. The nonverbal message is one of camaraderie. ("I would pat you on the shoulder, if I could reach your shoulders.")

Neil:
My take here is that Luther comes back with hot water and stays out of hot water for a while.

Next Blackbird, Richard, Luther, and Anne file.