glands removed.
Mir and his two visitors were speaking quietly among themselves as Dryas made her way silently to the edge of the sun-dappled forest.
The hunter’s eye picked her out first. Dryas felt the stare lock on and hold her, long before he gave even the slightest indication she’d been seen.
Deadly,
Dryas thought. A very keen mind resided under the fall of golden hair. She also took note that a half dozen light javelins were tied to the black horse’s saddle.
Then Firminius saw her. “Oh,” he squealed, “there she is—that’s the one.”
The hunter nodded. “I know. I thought so when I saw her coming down through the trees.”
“Fulvia!” Firminius elbowed his companion. “You have sharper eyes than most men. Ah, what a soldier you’d have made.”
Fulvia!
Dryas thought.
A woman!
The young male image in her mind shimmered like calm water broken by a breeze. Yes, a woman. The soft outline of breasts, the slightly too-wide hips, and the soft facial skin all signaled female.
So are we all creatures of illusion,
Dryas thought. The woman dressed as a hunter rose to greet Dryas as she approached.
The hunter was beautiful, with a slender waist, a straight back, heavy breasts, and peaches and cream coloring. She also was the biggest woman Dryas had ever seen. Over six feet and, though she carried no surplus flesh, she probably weighed almost a hundred and seventy pounds. Dryas herself was not small, but the woman topped her by at least half a head.
The three—Mir, Firminius, and Fulvia—had been gathered around a low metal table almost lost in the grass. Fulvia reached out and touched Dryas’ shoulder. “She chased you up a tree, eh?” The tall woman laughed.
“I think not a great victory,” Dryas replied. “Usually I’m not so extreme, but he shouldn’t have tried to bully Mir.”
Mir’s fingers brushed the fading bruise on his temple.
“An Amazon,” the huntress exclaimed. “You promised me a real Amazon. So we don’t know how good she is, not really? Do we?” she asked as she turned to Mir. “I’ll bet and bet heavily any gladiator in Rome would have her on her ass or her back in the time it takes me to snap my fingers.” Fulvia chortled as she suited the action to the words.
Dryas smiled. She knew she was being baited. “Possibly.” One of Dryas’ brows arched slightly and her lips curved. “But that would depend on what else he had. Besides a sword, I mean. Mortal combat isn’t the only kind. It isn’t even the contact sport that offers the most fun.”
Fulvia laughed robustly.
Firminius looked sour. “Fine, just so you don’t expect me to tame her. True, she’d be a novelty, but how long could she last? You can’t tell me that woman—not a very big woman—is a match for some of those gorgeous killers you have at the Roman ludus. Besides, if you presented him with a woman, the lanista would be wild. Just wild.”
“He’ll do what I tell him to do,” Fulvia said. “Nothing more or less. I really would like to see if you’re at all possible.”
Dryas inclined her head politely, thinking,
Gods, they’re arrogant. It’s as if they believe all the world exists for their pleasure and we should be grateful to be allowed to gratify their desires.
Fulvia strode to her horse and lifted two javelins from her saddle. “I can throw a spear farther than most men. Let’s see how you do.” She hefted one and balanced it with her right hand. “See that black birch down there?” She pointed to a slender tree near the edge of the clearing. The papery bark glowed gray and silver in the sunlit morning.
The tree was almost thirty feet away. The lance took flight and ended quivering, embedded in the trunk. The tree shook, raining green-brown leaves onto the grass beneath.
Dryas balanced the spear, opening her palm, testing the weight. The head dropped only a few inches.
A fine weapon,
she thought.
Fulvia watched her critically.
Dryas’ mind focused on the javelin
Mir and his two visitors were speaking quietly among themselves as Dryas made her way silently to the edge of the sun-dappled forest.
The hunter’s eye picked her out first. Dryas felt the stare lock on and hold her, long before he gave even the slightest indication she’d been seen.
Deadly,
Dryas thought. A very keen mind resided under the fall of golden hair. She also took note that a half dozen light javelins were tied to the black horse’s saddle.
Then Firminius saw her. “Oh,” he squealed, “there she is—that’s the one.”
The hunter nodded. “I know. I thought so when I saw her coming down through the trees.”
“Fulvia!” Firminius elbowed his companion. “You have sharper eyes than most men. Ah, what a soldier you’d have made.”
Fulvia!
Dryas thought.
A woman!
The young male image in her mind shimmered like calm water broken by a breeze. Yes, a woman. The soft outline of breasts, the slightly too-wide hips, and the soft facial skin all signaled female.
So are we all creatures of illusion,
Dryas thought. The woman dressed as a hunter rose to greet Dryas as she approached.
The hunter was beautiful, with a slender waist, a straight back, heavy breasts, and peaches and cream coloring. She also was the biggest woman Dryas had ever seen. Over six feet and, though she carried no surplus flesh, she probably weighed almost a hundred and seventy pounds. Dryas herself was not small, but the woman topped her by at least half a head.
The three—Mir, Firminius, and Fulvia—had been gathered around a low metal table almost lost in the grass. Fulvia reached out and touched Dryas’ shoulder. “She chased you up a tree, eh?” The tall woman laughed.
“I think not a great victory,” Dryas replied. “Usually I’m not so extreme, but he shouldn’t have tried to bully Mir.”
Mir’s fingers brushed the fading bruise on his temple.
“An Amazon,” the huntress exclaimed. “You promised me a real Amazon. So we don’t know how good she is, not really? Do we?” she asked as she turned to Mir. “I’ll bet and bet heavily any gladiator in Rome would have her on her ass or her back in the time it takes me to snap my fingers.” Fulvia chortled as she suited the action to the words.
Dryas smiled. She knew she was being baited. “Possibly.” One of Dryas’ brows arched slightly and her lips curved. “But that would depend on what else he had. Besides a sword, I mean. Mortal combat isn’t the only kind. It isn’t even the contact sport that offers the most fun.”
Fulvia laughed robustly.
Firminius looked sour. “Fine, just so you don’t expect me to tame her. True, she’d be a novelty, but how long could she last? You can’t tell me that woman—not a very big woman—is a match for some of those gorgeous killers you have at the Roman ludus. Besides, if you presented him with a woman, the lanista would be wild. Just wild.”
“He’ll do what I tell him to do,” Fulvia said. “Nothing more or less. I really would like to see if you’re at all possible.”
Dryas inclined her head politely, thinking,
Gods, they’re arrogant. It’s as if they believe all the world exists for their pleasure and we should be grateful to be allowed to gratify their desires.
Fulvia strode to her horse and lifted two javelins from her saddle. “I can throw a spear farther than most men. Let’s see how you do.” She hefted one and balanced it with her right hand. “See that black birch down there?” She pointed to a slender tree near the edge of the clearing. The papery bark glowed gray and silver in the sunlit morning.
The tree was almost thirty feet away. The lance took flight and ended quivering, embedded in the trunk. The tree shook, raining green-brown leaves onto the grass beneath.
Dryas balanced the spear, opening her palm, testing the weight. The head dropped only a few inches.
A fine weapon,
she thought.
Fulvia watched her critically.
Dryas’ mind focused on the javelin
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