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acknowledged Suhartyn.
    “In the field, of course, they would all target different armsmen, all across the front lines, so that any charge would slow, if not halt. Then they would pick off those trapped behind.”
    Whulyn nodded, if almost imperceptibly. Lygyrt glanced at his under-captain, but Whulyn did not look at his superior.
    “We have one last demonstration for you, Envoy Suhartyn. Would you indicate an officer to accompany my arms-commander?”
    Suhartyn turned. “Undercaptain? If you would?”
    One of the junior guards led two horses out onto the field. Saryn mounted her gelding, where the heavy black hood was draped over the front of the saddle. Whulyn was almost as quick with the other mount, and he rode beside her as they headed uphill on the road.
    Less than a hundred yards above the northwest corner of the field, Saryn turned her mount and reined up. Then she extended the heavy black hood to Whulyn. “Look it over, then put it over my head.”
    Whulyn edged his mount closer with an ease of long experience, then bent forward.
    Saryn leaned toward him, waiting until the hood was in place. “Is there any way I can see?”
    “No.” Whulyn’s voice contained veiled amusement. “There wouldn’t be, would there?”
    Saryn managed to keep from smiling, not that the undercaptain could have seen her expression under the hood. “No. There’s no trickery involved. You can follow me to watch and see what you think.”
    “Thank you, Commander.” The amusement had vanished from Whulyn’s voice.
    Using her senses, Saryn guided the gelding back down the road toward the arms practice field. Her free hand checked the blades in the shoulder harness and the one in the sheath at her knee. At the west end of the field, she turned south, then, once she was past a point even with Ryba and Suhartyn, she urged the gelding eastward and into an easy canter.
    When she was still a good twenty yards from the wicker target, she released the first blade, smoothing the flows and sending it toward the breastplate once worn by a Lornian lancer. The second blade was away at about fifteen yards. Then she turned the gelding, and with her back to the target, flung the last blade.
    She slowed the gelding gradually, wishing she hadn’t had to ride on the field, then turned and rode back to where Ryba, Suhartyn, and the Suthyan captain stood. After reining up, she removed the heavy black hood and gently tossed it to the captain. Ten yards away, all three blades were buried to their hilts in the iron breastplate, each spaced two fingers from the one beside it.
    She dismounted, and a guard hurried up and handed Saryn another blade, which she slipped into the left shoulder scabbard one-handed. The guard took the gelding’s reins and led him away. Saryn walked forward to Suhartyn, inclining her head politely. “I trust that these small demonstrations provide some idea of what our guards can do.”
    Suhartyn, a good half head taller than Saryn, smiled politely. “You are all most impressive. But there are not that many of you.”
    “There were less than forty of us when we destroyed the thousands of Lornth,” Ryba replied calmly. “We would prefer not to fight, because fighting wastes golds and resources. That is why we destroy all those who try our patience. It keeps us from wasting resources too often.”
    “Ah… yes.”
    Saryn slowly drew the short sword, then looked to Lygyrt. “Would you like to see if you could put this blade, or your own, through the breastplate of the target?”
    “I’d prefer not to dull my own.”
    Saryn reversed the short sword and extended it, hilt first, to the captain.
    She and Lygyrt walked to the target.
    The captain jabbed, and the short sword skittered off the iron. “This is a useless, blunted weapon.”
    “Please return it to me, then.” Saryn extended her hand.
    The officer reversed the weapon and offered it.
    Saryn took the short sword, stepped back some three paces, summoned the blackness