will agree that appearing ineffectual does much to throw the opponent off his guard. So—that is the what of this one. As to the why—the People believe that the better one achieves Balance, the better one will be reborn.”
“I certainly hope you don’t include good and evil in your Balance—either that, or I’ll do the cooking from now on.” Lyran laughed.
“No Mage-lady, for how could one weigh ‘good’ and ‘evil’? Assuredly, it was ‘good’ that this one slew your foes, but was it not ‘evil’ to them? Sometimes things are plainly one or the other, but too often it depends upon where one stands one’s own self. A primary tenet of our Way is to do no harm when at all possible—to wound, rather than kill, subdue rather than wound, reason rather than subdue, and recall when reasoning that the other may have the right of it.”
“Simple to state, but—”
“Ai, difficult to live by. It would seem that most things worth having are wrapped in difficulty. Have you not spent your life in magecraft, and yet still learn? And does this not set you farther apart from others—sacrificing knowledge for the common ties of life?”
Martis scrutinized her companion across the flames. Not so young, after all. Not nearly so young as she had thought—nor so simple. It was only the slight build, the guileless eyes, the innocence of the heart-shaped face that made you think “child.” And attractive too. Damned attractive . . . “Don’t be a fool,” she scolded herself, “You haven’t the time or energy to waste—besides, he’s young enough to be your son. Well, maybe not your son. But too damned young for the likes of you! Hellfires! You have more to think about than a sweet-faced hireling! Get your mind back to business.”
“Before we sleep, I’m intending to gather power as I was doing on the road,” she stretched a little. “I want you to rouse me when the moon rises.”
“Mage-lady—would quiet chanting disturb you?” Lyran asked anxiously. “This one would offer words for those slain.”
“Whatever for? They wouldn’t have mourned you!” Once again, Lyran had surprised her.
“That is their Way, not this one’s. If one does not mourn that one has slain, the heart soon dies. Under other circumstances, might they not have been comrades?”
“I suppose you’re right,” Martis