The ranger hopped, trying to twist his foot loose, and fell helplessly. Storm straightened and put her shoulders into two furious strokes that drove Itharr-a burly man a hand shorter but at least six trade-blocks heavier than she, with arms and wrists twice as thick-back across the clearing. With a twist of her blade she disarmed him, sending his blade singing off into the trees.

Belkram chuckled ruefully as he rolled to his feet and brought his own blade up barely in time to turn aside her sword point, inches away from his cheek. He dodged and twisted, his moves slowed and blunted by growing weariness. In an attempt to win past her blade, he tried a circular cut that extended into a lunge.

In the midst of the ring and skirl of their blades, Storm's face suddenly twisted. She stiffened as a blue-white glow surrounded her hair. Belkram didn't even have time to gape in astonishment as his blade slid into her breast.

It went into the leather-clad swell of her bosom just as easily as a hot knife into butter, as they say-a good three inches or more before he could stop. Beside him, Belkram heard Itharr gasp, but Storm made no sound. Her eyes had closed, and her mouth was parted in pain.

"Gods, you've killed her!" and "Oh, Lady! Forgive-" rang out together as Storm swayed, clutched the steel that stood out from her breast with both hands, and opened her eyes at last.

"My apologies, both of you," she said in a low voice. "Something… linked to me… took hold for a moment. No blame to you, Belkram."

Storm smiled at them, but the two Harpers were staring at her as if she had suddenly become a ghost or a dragon. Her eyes were two dancing flames of blue-white fire, and more flames crackled in her mouth as she spoke. Her hands moved down Belkram's blade, and in their wake blue-white fire danced along the steel. The ranger, who still held his sword, felt a tingling in his hand. The tingling grew to a painful burning. Without thought he let go of his blade.