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some
unspeakable horror to bend her to his will. All the same, she would
make the experience as unpleasant for him as possible—and, if quick
enough, would accomplish an errand of her own at the same time.
    She swiftly dressed in an old, brown woolen
frock she wore for weapons practice back home. Worn and misshapen,
it suited her purposes perfectly. And, since her coils last night
had been received so well, this morning she would devise a new,
even more unbecoming style for her hair.
    Elwytha lifted her hair out in different
directions, peering intently into her scrap of a mirror, until she
hit upon the very idea. She set to work plaiting as fast as her
fingers would allow.
    When Hagma arrived with her breakfast, she
gasped when she saw Elwytha, and very nearly dropped the breakfast
tray. Her eyes circled in horror. “Miss,” she said hesitantly, “do
you require…assistance?” She set the tray on the dresser.
    “ No, Hagma,” Elwytha said
gaily. “Thank you.”
    Hagma pleated her hands, and after a moment
curtseyed. “If you are sure, miss?”
    “ Go, Hagma.” The maid
scurried out, and Elwytha grinned wickedly to herself. Soon the
Commander would cease requesting her company. All the better,
because she needed to apportion time to hunt for her blades. This
morning she would steal a few moments. The sooner she found them,
the better, should the Commander behave toward her in an uncouth
manner. Brother’s plan or no, she would not be mauled by that
brute.
    Yet again, Elwytha tried to guess why her
brother wished her to wait two weeks to kill the Commander. Perhaps
to build up trust, so she could attack the Commander by surprise,
in secret, and thence escape quickly, before anyone would
notice?
    That thought caused an uncomfortable knot to
form in her chest. It reeked of murderous treachery, which she had
not thought about too deeply of late—not since arriving in the
enemy palace. But she reminded herself that the Commander was a
murdering, cowardly knave, responsible for stabbing her brother in
the back. He deserved the same sentence.
    She shoved these uncomfortable nigglings to
the back of her mind and finished her hair. Elwytha moved the tiny
mirror all around so she could see her masterpiece from every
angle. She giggled. Ropes of hair stuck out in all different
directions. She looked like Medusa, with snakes for hair.
    Magnificent. The Commander would be unable to
stomach her countenance. Content, she sampled her breakfast.
Delicious.
    When finished, she exited her room. Again,
the Commander’s chamber was empty. She felt some surprise that he
allowed her to freely wander his room and the halls. Did no
suspicion darken his thick brain? She blithely disregarded the
intelligence she had sensed on more than one occasion. Nay. A fool
he must be. And she would take full advantage of her enemy’s
weakness.
    A few minutes remained before he would expect
her in the hall. Now she’d use warrior skill and cunning to root
out her blades. Head turning quickly left and right, she sidled
into the hall. All clear. Now to locate the room where she had
bathed and been robbed of her blades.
    Elwytha skulked left, sure that that was the
way they had come. It just happened to be the same direction as the
great hall. Good. If needed, she could sprint to her assignation to
hell if time ran short. Her feet were swift, and the baggy dress
afforded ample yardage for running.
    Elwytha’s steps slowed. Here the hall split
three different ways. Which direction should she go? Elwytha rued
the fact that she’d closed her eyes while draped down the
Commander’s back. Sadly, humiliation had dulled her thinking
abilities. A mistake not to be repeated.
    While she hesitated, uncertain which
direction to turn, a fresh stab of inspiration struck. After her
initial meeting with the Prince in the throne hall, the Commander
had led her to the bathing room. She had memorized every turn of
the hall during that trip. Now she had only to return