"Brag and bounce!" said a voice that was surely Jerran's. Lady Nirea grinned and walked toward the cavern.
"So I swatted, I beat at them, I swiped and almost fell, I did the work of twenty men—don't shake your head, Jerran, you know 'tis not brag!—for half a mile, and not one globe touched a hair of our heads! They came at the last from all sides, like a swarm of angered bees, and one burnt the horse so that he streaked even faster; which saved our necks, for my arm was nearly dead by then.
"I tell you, there is one protection only against these things, and that is quickness: for let one come within a few inches of you, and you are a dead man."
Nirea stepped into the cave.
"I thought you were a dead man, Revel the Mink," she said quietly, still with the ghost of her grin.
He stared at her, while the men in the place turned and sprang up and stood uncertainly, looking from her to their leader. He was dressed in miner's clothing again, and his skin was a perfect fright of scars and scabs and half-closed wounds. But he was whole, barring part of an ear, and he was smiling as only he could smile. "Here, men of the ruck, is the woman you owe my life to. Here is—" he cocked an eyebrow quizzically—"here is, I think I can say, the Lady of the Mink."
"Here she is," said Nirea, and was stifled and crushed in a great bear-hug. "And here's Rack, your brother, who I think may be rebel material."
"I think so," said Rack heavily, staring at Revel with his good eye. "If you want me, brother."
"Gods, yes! We need every man we can get this night. Did you note the slaughter beyond?"