Shield's Lady

medic, but there was little else that could be done. There were better places to die than in an alley.
    “Shield.” The single word was little more than a breath between Brinton’s bloodied lips.
    “Yes,” Gryph said, as he pushed a hand under Brinton’s shirt to see if he could slow the bleeding before he tried to move the man. “It’s me. By the Lightstorm, I’m sorry, Brinton. I swear I had no way of knowing things were this serious.”
    “No! Not you. Another Shield.” Brinton’s eyes opened slightly and he tried to focus on Gryph’s face. His words were thick and heavy in his mouth. “I didn’t find out who has the cutter.”
    “It doesn’t matter, Brinton. Take it easy, man. I’m going to get you to a medic.” Gryph felt blood and torn flesh beneath his hand. Quickly he worked to tighten Brinton’s shirt into a makeshift bandage. Brinton slapped restlessly at his hand.
    “No time. Get away, Chassyn. Get away.”
    “I’m going to put you over my shoulder,” Gryph said, bracing himself to lift the smaller man.
    “No . . . point. Listen to me. You always paid on time. Good client. Reliable. I owe you for . . . you helped me a few years back.”
    “You don’t owe me anything.”
    Brinton shook his head and blood trickled down his chin. “Not true. I owe you. Going to pay you back. Tonight. Only way I can. Information. Didn’t find the cutter, but something more important. There’s another Shield out there who doesn’t want it found. You hear me, Chassyn? Another Shield. I don’t know who…he’s responsible for the missing cutter.”
    Gryph went still. “A Shield did this to you?”
    “No. I’m not worth a Shield’s time. But he probably sent the ones who got me. I heard…” Brinton coughed again. “I heard something about the thieves taking the cutter to Little Chance. You paid for this information. Take it and use it. But be careful. The cutter’s not worth your life.” Brinton began to gasp painfully.
    Gryph waited no longer. He had done the best he could for the bleeding. He leaned down and maneuvered Brinton over his shoulder. The man was unconscious now. It was just as well.
    Gryph started toward the alley entrance, balancing the dying man’s weight with one hand and holding the small vapor lamp with the other.
    He was only half out of the walled trap when the caped figure with the blade bow in his hand stepped into the alley. The vapor lamp’s slender ray picked him out just as he raised his arm to fire the bow.
    Gryph’s reaction was reflexive. He shut his eyes and flicked a second switch on the small hand lamp. The narrow beam became a short-lived, blinding flare of light that filled the alley. An instant later it vanished completely leaving everything in utter darkness. The capped figure shouted in anger as he was temporarily blinded. The bow zinged softly.
    Gryph was already throwing himself to one side and groping for a throwing blade, but the weight of Brinton’s body made the maneuver uncharacteristically and dangerously awkward. He felt the impact of the stranger’s blade as it sliced through his jacket and across his shoulder. Then he felt the pain.
    He staggered and opened his eyes as Brinton’s body slid to the bricks beside him. There was no sound from the informer. Gryph thought he was probably already dead.
    The man with the blade bow was gone. Gryph knew from experience that it would take a couple of minutes for the effects of the brilliant flash of vapor light to wear off. His assailant was probably reeling blindly down the street, searching for a place to hide until he regained his sight.
    Gryph leaped for the alley entrance. His vapor lamp was useless now. It could only be used once in such a maneuver and then it had to be recharged with vapor. Gryph’s eyes were functioning normally because he’d closed them during the burst of flaring vapor. There was enough illumination from scattered starlight to search the street outside the alley.
    But even as he reached the street he heard the sound of dragonpony hooves on pavement. Not one pony, but two. The man with the blade bow had brought a backup. In the dim light Gryph watched in frustrated fury as two dragon-ponies galloped out of sight around a corner. The man on the first pony was leading the second animal. The slumped figure on the second pony was undoubtedly the man with the bow.
    “Damn it to the heart of the Lightstorm,” Gryph hissed, swearing futilely at his own stupidity, slowness