Shield's Lady

and then neutralize the ship. Afterward we will cut up the prisma, split it three ways and make our fortunes.”
    “What about Targyn’s men?” Sariana asked. “Miscroft and the others?”
    “There are only three,” Rakken said. “And to be honest, none of them are very bright. They follow Targyn’s orders because he has promised them great wealth. But with him out of the way they should be easy meat for a Shield.”
    Sariana stared at him. “You expect Gryph to kill all four of them? Targyn included?”
    “Why not? It’s what he’s good at, isn’t it?” Rakken asked blandly. “You forget, my dear, that Chassyn and the other Shields make their living fighting border bandits. Bandit disposal is their specialty, and I have it on good authority that they are very skilled at their job. You have only seen your quasi-husband in the sophisticated social context of a city. But that is not his natural habitat. Don’t worry. Targyn is his only real problem. Taking care of Miscroft and the others will be nothing more than a mopping up operation for him. But if it makes you feel more secure, rest assured, I am not unarmed myself. I have a blade bow and I can use it. I’m not foolish enough to think I can take Targyn by surprise, but if Chassyn runs into trouble with any of the three bandits, I should be able to help him out.”
    The tension that gripped Sariana was almost palpable. Gryph could feel the violent anger and denial vibrating in her. But her voice was steady when she spoke to Rakken.
    “Why haven’t you killed Targyn yourself, Etion? You must have had plenty of opportunity.”
    Rakken chuckled but there was no humor in the sound. “If you believe a banker who has had no formal experience in hand-to-hand combat or any other kind of fighting can successfully take on a professionally armed Shield, you are very naive, Sariana. You still don’t seem to realize just how skilled at violence these men are. Chassyn is every bit as dangerous to me as Targyn is. But at least with Chassyn I have some control.”
    “Me.”
    “You,” he agreed. “And a business arrangement. It’s said Shields honor their word. Sane Shields, at any rate. We’ll leave poor Targyn out of this. One can’t do business with an insane man.”
    “I suggest we get back to the main business at hand,” Gryph said roughly. He wasn’t picking up anything at all from Sariana now. She had shut down her mind as surely as if she had turned off a switch.
    “Speaking of business,” Rakken said easily, “there is one other point I would like to discuss before we conclude our little planning session.”
    “What?” Gryph asked.
    “I would like Sariana to open your weapon kit for me.”
    Rakken got to his feet and walked across the room to open another hidden panel in the wall. Gryph’s weapon kit sat on a shelf. Rakken picked it up and returned to the table. He placed the kit in front of Sariana who sat staring at it as if it were an alien bug.
    Gryph ran through all the possibilities inherent in the situation in a split second and came to his decision. With all the power he could muster he sent the image of a palm blade in its sheath into Sariana’s head.
    Sariana trembled a little as she sat looking at the kit, but she didn’t give any indication she had caught his silent message. She seemed lost in her own thoughts.
    Gryph concentrated on projecting the message. Along with the image of the small, sharp blade, he sent a picture of how it could be picked up unnoticed and hidden in her palm. Sariana had no training in such things, but she just might be able to pull it off if Gryph provided some cover for her at the right moment. Rakken’s heavy consumption of wine should have the effect of making the man less than keenly observant.
    “I have become extremely interested in the contents of these kits,” Rakken was saying as he fingered the prisma lock. “The prisma alone is worth a small fortune, yet Shields are not known for their wealth. Targyn, of course, guards his kit closely. He would not deign to show me the contents. But a Shieldmate is supposed to be able to open her husband’s kit.”
    “I thought we agreed I wasn’t married to Gryph,” Sariana pointed out wryly.
    “A matter of semantics, I’m afraid. Married or not, apparently he has given you the secret of unlocking his kit.”
    “And you want me to unlock it now?” Sariana stroked the snake cat leather pouch.
    “I want to assess the technology of its