Deep into the stony hills
Miles from town or hold,
A troop of guards comes riding
With a lady and her gold
She rides bemused among them
Shrouded in her cloak of fur,
Companioned by a maiden
And a toothless, aged cur
Three things see no end:
A flower blighted 'ere it bloom,
A message that miscarries,
And a journey that is doomed
One among the guardsmen
Has a shifting, restless eye
And as they ride, he scans the hills
That rise against the skies
He wears both sword and jewels
Worth more than he could afford
And hidden in his baggage
Is a heavy, secret hoard
Of three things be wary of:
A feather on a cat,
The shepherd eating mutton,
And the guardsman that is fat
Little does the lady care
What all the guardsmen know:
That bandits ambush caravans
That on these trade roads go
In spite of tricks and clever traps
And all that men can do,
The brigands seem to always sense
Which trains are false or true
Three things are most perilous:
The shape that walks behind
The ice that will not hold you
And the spy you cannot find
From ambush bandits screaming
Charge the pack train and its prize
And all but four within the train
Are taken by surprise
And all but four are cut down
As a woodsman fells a log:
The guardsman and the lady
And the maiden and the dog
Three things hold a secret:
Lady riding in a dream,
The dog that sounds no warning,
And the maiden who does not scream
Then off the lady pulls her cloak,
In armor she is clad
Her sword is out and ready and
Her eyes are fierce and glad
The maiden makes a gesture and
The dog's a cur no more
A wolf, swordmaid and sorceress
Now face the bandit horde
Three things never anger
Or you will not live for long:
A wolf with cubs,a man with power,
And a woman's sense of wrong
The lady and her sister
By a single trader lone
Were hired out to try to lay
A trap all of their own
And no one knew their plan except
The two who rode that day,
For what you do not know
You cannot ever give away
Three things it is better far
That only two should know:
Where treasure hides, who shares your bed,
And how to catch your foe
The bandits growl a challenge
And the lady only grins
The sorceress bows mockingly,
And then the fight begins
When it ends, there's only four
Left standing from the horde:
The witch, the wolf, the traitor,
And the woman with the sword
Three things never trust in:
A maiden sworn as pure,
The vows a king has given,
And the ambush that is sure
They strip the traitor naked
And then whip him on his way,
Into the barren hillsides like
The folk he used to slay
And what of all the maidens
That this bandit raped and slew?
So as revenge the sorceress
Makes him a woman, too
Three things trust above all else:
The horse on which you ride,
The beast that guards your sleeping,
And your shieldmate at your side