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. "Gently,
Doune, if you like living."
I like living well enough. I dropped my sword point,
but not the sword.
She was human, like me, but dressed and geared like
an elf whose family had some means. Silk and buckskin
and low-heeled riding boots of the finest cut. I'll tell you
now, she was well made, long-legged and slender of waist.
She was round in all the best places, and there wasn't much
need to guess about that. The cut of her blouse showed
more than the silver-and-sapphire necklace she wore.
I tried a question. "How do you know my name?"
"Who hasn't heard of Hunter-Doune?" She grinned, as
cocky as a scamp bent on mischief. "You're a legend where
I come from."
Light from an oil lamp gleamed on the steel between
us, hers high, mine low and useless. She gestured to the
kender.
"Peverell," she said, "relieve him of his weapons."
The kender did what kender love to do. He got my
dagger, found the small knife I always kept sheathed in my
boot, lifted the sword from my hand before I knew he'd
reached for it. He also took the bounty notices I'd gotten at
the den and the fee I'd collected not an hour ago. He would
have taken the teeth from my head if his companion hadn't
called him off
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