pirate Bilge Rat who understandably has much to conceal.
Unraveling the story of Trouble's career is not an easy task; the stories of her
A Life of Trouble
Only fifteen years ago a young lieutenant of the free company called the
"Vanduzee Slayers" heard a brawl beginning near the paymaster's tent. As the
officer hurried toward the disturbance, he saw that the paymaster had been
knocked down – and by a young woman in men's clothing whom he didn't know.
She appeared to be all alone on her side of the imbroglio, since she was fend-
ing off several men with a sword.
"Just put that away, little girl," one man coaxed sneeringly, "or you might get cut
when I take it away from you."
"Take it if you can, sack-belly!" she jeered. "You can't even imagine how many
dumb oxen like you I've gored!"
"Hold!" yelled the lieutenant, now intervening. "Let her be, you men. What
started this?"
The woman spoke up first. "The paymaster wouldn't sign me up for a soldier. I
knocked him down and then these others butted in."
"Why do you want to be a soldier if you can't be any good at it?" the officer
asked with a bemused smile.
She tossed her head. "I don't know; why do you want to be one if you can't be
any good at it?"
"Get rid of her, Lieutenant," advised the paymaster, now wobbling to his feet.
"She's trouble."
Obviously she was, the young officer thought, but yet she looked damned nice
in his eyes, wearing those close-cut breeches. "Do you have a name?" he
asked with a grin that he usually reserved for ladies whom he wished to beguile.
"Not anymore," the maid replied with a cold, suspicious stare.
The man sighed, disappointed by the signals he had gotten back. "I'll have to
make a report and will have to call you something -- something a little more
accurate than 'trouble.' "
Her manner relaxed as if he had said something funny and she shrugged.
"Trouble's damn accurate, I'd say – and a damned side more polite than most
of the things I've been called lately."
The officer noted that although her manner was rough, she spoke with the dic-
tion of an aristocrat. All in all, the stranger seemed so different from most
women that the attraction he felt for her was especially intriguing. "Then with
your permission," he gallantly said, "I'll call you 'Lady Trouble.'"
She shrugged again. "Just 'Trouble,' if you please. I'm no lady."
This is the story that Solimar of Milun tells of his first meeting with the heroine
Trouble and how she received her strange name. As far as we know, it is her
first appearance on the pages of history. Strange to tell, to this day we hardly
know more about the warrior-woman than Solimar did on the first day of her
acquaintance. No other hero of Minaria has been so secretive, not even the
1
exploits are extensive, but the facts concerning the one who performs these
deeds are few. Solimar met Trouble frequently in the first half of her career, and
wrote much about her in his memoir about the so-called "March of the
Pretender." We know of no closer friend that she had, but even he never man-
aged to penetrate her reticence. Good memoirist that he is, he leaves us a
careful physical description:
"She called herself Trouble, and the name fit like a gauntlet. She was Trouble
for any trooper who supposed she was a camp-follower instead of a warrior
equal in stature to himself. She was the strongest, most skillful shield-maid I
have ever known. In fact, the gods in their wisdom had made her as strong as
a large man, though she possessed the slim build of a village bride. Her pre-
ferred garb was always mannish, always breeches, never a dress. Neither did
she paint her face or let her hair grow longer than a short bob. Her accent
sounded Immerite to me, but she absolutely refused to volunteer any detail of
her early life or origin. Her tone and manner was guarded and brusque, but it
bespoke an origin that could not have been lower than the gentry.
"I was not surprised; therefore, that Trouble was literate, writing in a fluid and
eloquent hand. Sometimes I wondered whether she was an outlaw from a good
family trying to avoid pursuers. Yet her manner was always forward, never
flinching from a challenge, never showing furtiveness like a fugitive must.
"I also find it hard to understand the young woman's charisma. She came
across so harshly in many ways, yet at the strangest moments she betrayed not
only a brave, but also a good, generous, and noble heart. The more familiar I
became with Trouble, the more I suspected that considerable emotional pain
lurked behind her hard and unbendable facade. Yet, if the lady had committed
some crime or a great sin that she had to hide for fear of the law or of public dis-
grace, she must have been a child when it occurred, as I would place her at no
more than nineteen years when we met. She had beauty, mystery, and obvious
sorrow; so many times I was tempted to take her into my arms to comfort her -
- but never did so for fear of a knife between my ribs."
But Solimar may have been mistaken about the mystery woman's age. The fact
is that from the earliest to the latest descriptions we have of Trouble, a span of
fifteen years as of this writing, she has always appeared to both casual
observers and fast friends to be about eighteen to twenty years of age. Given
her fighting prowess, we may sympathize with those poets who have speculat-
ed that the maid is actually the daughter of a god.
Is Trouble a goddess or even half a goddess? Interestingly enough, several
strange stories cause us to wonder.
A man named Felje, of the city of Plibba, was cleaning the horse stalls behind
the inn that employed him when a small band of mercenaries settled down to
loaf in the hay pile outside the double-doors. Suddenly a slim figure stepped in
from a different direction.
"Who runs this stable?" she asked in a husky, but yet unmistakably-female
voice.
The men outside looked in the instant they heard her speak.
"You --!" one of the sell-swords growled. "You were in Bylina, weren't you?"
"What if I was?!" she turned and answered back.
"Yes, that's her Rubb!" another man exclaimed. "That's the woman who slew
Sergeant Gebo!"
"Who's Sergeant Gebo?" she asked with a contemptuous grin. "I've killed so
many lying, thieving, pawing louts lately that I can't keep them all straight. I
don't doubt that when I get through with you knaves I won't remember you
either!"
"Grab her!" bawled one of the offended mercenaries just as the woman's blade
leaped into her hand, as if by magic.
But, undaunted, the three swordsmen brandished their own weapons and
pressed in. While the maid waited for their rush, she missed the sudden knife-
throw from the shadows that struck her chest. Only the timely approach of the
city patrol just then sent the ruffians fleeing prior to the completion of their mur-
derous work.
Young Felje yelled for help and the wounded woman was taken to the physician,
yet none expected her to live. Surprisingly, though, Trouble hung on through
that night and the next day. To everyone's surprise, her strength returned quick-
ly. In two days she had walked away from her physician with a fully-healed
wound and not even a scar. The doctor had believed that such an injury, even
if survived, should have invalided even a strong man for an entire season.
But Trouble looked hail and fit when she next served with the Vanduzee Slayers
shortly after. Like the first time, she stayed with it for only a few months before
taking off again, despite an impressive campaign record and the urging of her
comrades to remain. This odd pattern became well-established -- a short while
in the public view, probably to earn traveling money, then a period of obscurity
in which she presumably spent it. Friends came to believe that Trouble was
very serious about searching for something, but they didn't know what it was
and Trouble never welcomed inquiries.
Some reliable authorities say that she made frequent calls upon wizards, includ-
ing those of the Witches' Kitchen, Schardenzar, the Invisible School of
Thaumaturgy, the itinerant missionary-healer Nonnus, and even the dreaded
master of the Tower of Zards. Any one of these colorful spell masters should
have provided the lady with a few good stories to tell, but never a word came
from her about them. Probably she didn't want to be questioned as to why she
went visiting.
Trouble would come back several more times to the Vanduzee Slayers, a group
which seemed to be the only real home she possessed. The better that military
leaders got to know her, the quicker came her promotions – which is unusual for
a shield-maid given the prejudices of the military mind. But wise in tactics and
personally brave, Trouble repeatedly proved her worth to the units with which
she served and the Slayers especially lost their chagrin at serving under a
female officer. When talk of her being a goddess got around, the soldiers were
delighted; her presence lent status and fame to their motley band, which was
drawing the highest pay largely due to her contributions.
With the ending of the exhausting war between Pon and Shucassam in 1367,
the Slayers again faced unemployment. The times were so hard that they faced
breaking up the unit or staying together and going into brigandage. Usually at
such a lull Trouble would have departed on one of her long, secret forays, but
this time emissaries arrived from a rebel prince of Yannagyhara who was then
living in exile in Jipols. This was Marodi, the older son of Sultan Yosuf the
Stormer and, at one time, his heir. But the prince's father had switched his favor
to his half-brother Horem the Small, due to a long passion of the shah for the
youth's mother. Marodi had looted Dahoon, the city he was governing, and
went north to raise a mercenary army large enough and effective enough for his
native supporters to rally around when he finally returned to his home kingdom
to depose his father. Thousands of sell-swords took the prince's down payment
and soon what is called "The March of the Pretender" began.
The expedition was equipped well enough that the march to the Yannagyharan
border did not suffer greatly. They were met by the shah's border units, which
the mercenaries surprised and routed. Encouraged, thousands of
Yannagyharan bravos took up the prince's cause. The mercenaries were elat-
ed, for the war seemed to be almost won already without the inconvenience of
a serious battle.
But Sultan Yosuf had refused to give up without a serious test and summoned
the main army. These were hard-bitten troops primarily used to fight nomads
raiding from the savannahs of Kelga, which was, by the way, the place of origin
of both the Yanna tribe and the Shucassami.
Now, as the armies deployed, the Minarians' expectations of a bloodless victo-
ry drained away like water spilled on hot sand. Nonetheless, the decisive bat-
tle which was fought at Repezus again ended in triumph. Unfortunately, even
though his advisors had warned Marodi not to expose himself needlessly, the
sight of his hated younger brother Horem flying away from his defeat with only
a small bodyguard excited the brave prince so much that he rushed forward with
his own small company; Horem was wounded, but Marodi was killed by his half-
brother's elite bodyguard.
2
Horem, apparently an unlikable young man, personally mutilated his sibling's
body in the belief that none of the Strumpets of Paradise would thereafter smile
upon him. But with rebel pursuit bearing down, Horem's wizards covered the
retreat with a mysterious haze of mystic origin previously unknown to Minaria.
It was called the "Smoke of the Snake" and it made further pursuit impossible.
The mercenaries, though victorious in a sense, were despondent. They had
nothing left to fight for with their candidate for the throne dead and their
Yannagyharan allies drifting away. Reduced to just the original core of Minarian
adventurers, the little army commenced a long, arduous withdrawal, shunned by
the people they passed by as friendless intruders in a barren, alien land.
Horem's army had been too weakened by their defeat to attack the formidable
mercenaries directly, but his riders dogged their track, picking off stragglers
where they could and racing ahead to poison water wells and destroy food-
stuffs. Through it all, Trouble functioned at her best, or so her admirer Solimar
claims. The marchers were at first ill-prepared to deal with these hit-and-run
tactics by foreign horse-archers, but Trouble devised an effective array of flank-
guards comprised of archers protected by pikemen. The former's larger, heav -
ier Hothioran bows rained enough punishing death down upon the enemy that
they had to keep back out of range of their own bows. Nevertheless, a heavy
attrition of officers during the first attack led to Trouble's acclamation as chief
commanding officer for the last half of the retreat.
The enemy's next trick was to bring up wizards with magical attacks. Unable to
tolerate the losses, Trouble led a hand-picked band of men in a risky raid, seek -
ing to slay the enemy wizards where they meditated. The mages fought back,
not only with armed guards but also with magical bolts. Their aim slew fighting
on either side of Trouble, but the maid went unscathed – except that her gar-
ments burned away leaving her flesh unmarked. When her stalwart company
broke through the sorcerers' ring of guards, Trouble herself was among them
like a wolf among sheep, dealing out death left and right.
Though the intensity of the battle must have been distracting, one man in the
raiding party later told Solimar that he saw that Trouble's thigh bore the crimson
tattoo of a sesa flower – an ancient sign which had long-ago been used to per-
manently mark and identify Mivioran slave girls! When the Minarians were with-
drawing and Trouble was but half-covered by a hastily-seized cloak, the warn-
ing look in her eyes told the soldiers not to ask questions about the red tattoo.
By the time they had reached Stone Man Pass, the mercenaries knew they had
achieved safety. But here Trouble surprised her comrades by once again split-
ting off and returning south! Solimar learned second-hand that his friend had
gone off to seek the "Waters of Jurba," reputedly rare bottles of magical spring
water which some of the band had only heard about while fighting in
Yannagyhara.
Rumor says that the magical Waters change the sex of anyone who bathes in
them. Solimar had no idea why such a thing should interest Trouble, unless she
had tired of being underrated for being a woman in a man's career. The mem-
oirist could only add it to all the other mysteries surrounding Trouble. The last
thing Solimar says on the subject is that, in his opinion, beauty such as
Trouble's is too rare in the world to lose, and so he hoped that if the adventuress
actually sought the accursed Waters she would never find them.
Whatever the shield-maid's true intention, Trouble was sighted in Minaria a year
later still very much a woman. But something about her had changed. Although
always displaying the tendency to brood, Trouble now seemed to suffer from
nearly-continuous despair. Some in her orbit pretended that they knew much
more than they did and declared with confidence that while away in the South,
Trouble had loved and lost.
But was that so? A letter written by Osmordo, a sergeant of a mercenary band
Trouble served with about this time, says that the warrior-maid was complain-
ing of nightmares and, in fact, her nocturnal shouts were often heard in camp.
One night friends rushed to the sound of her terrified yells. "Do you see her?!"
the she-warrior demanded when they shook her awake.
"See who?" asked a comrade.

"That ghost – half woman – half fox!"
For months Trouble had been haunted by a spectral fox-woman who came to
her in her dreams, or, as she claimed, made actual appearances when she was
alone. Comrades came to doubt Trouble's sanity. When Trouble next rode off
and did not soon return, some people wondered if the ghost hadn't actually
claimed her for Hell. Others, not believing in ghosts, thought the heroine might
have succumbed to the Great Plague which was then ravaging the coastal cities
and the river ports of the Deep. Two witnesses claimed that Trouble had repent-
ed of her violent ways and had joined a holy order. She had been seen in the
company of the holy man Nonnus wearing a woman's gown with her hair free-
flowing, unarmed and without any weapon within reach of her. When greeted
by the name of Trouble, the young woman denied being that person and gave
another name entirely.
For a year after that there is nothing but gossip to sift through. Rumor even
maintains that Trouble had a love affair, had gotten with child, and for that rea-
son she stayed out of sight, her name changed, until she gave birth. Either the
child then died or she abandoned it. Most likely the whole story is a fantasy.
But whatever the reason for her prolonged absence, Trouble suddenly came
back. And she assuredly wasn't acting like a holy sister, except that those clos -
est to her thought she had grown more contemplative and was a little less bel-
licose over unimportant matters. When the amazon next involved herself in mil-
itary action, it was not to lead an army of hard-bitten freebooters, but a rag-tag
band of Muetaran peasants who had risen in desperate revolt against their
oppressive overlords.
As always, brave and violent deeds breed stirring ballads. This is one which
came out of Trouble's ill-starred participation in the Maragonian revolt:
Trouble in Muetar
We called her Trouble; that was her name;
Trouble for the robber lords, the families of cruel fame.
She made great trouble, telling thou and thee,
"We'll bow no more to Muetar! Follow me!"
In Thirteen-Seventy, in Herrott's day,
An army of the peasantry formed up along the way.
They scorned their rulers, they scorned their swords;
Bondsmen born they might have been, but they were lords.
"We rise in arms" they said, "to take what's ours;
"We defy their crushing taxes and their arrogance of power.
"Our ancient kingdom shall rise again,
"And the land, now torn asunder, we shall mend.
"Muetar's intruders we do despise,
"Those courtly cutters-off of hands, those putters-out of eyes.
"By bloody warfare, low, base, and cruel
"They seize upon our property and crush us 'neath their rule.
"They make the judges; they write the laws;
"Their lawyers are as ravenous as eagles with their claws.
"They daily rob us, our rights they spurn,
"Their policies just serve their ends while poor men yearn.
"We work the land, they rule by spears,
"So now we finally raise our fists and stand up to their sneers.
"God's gift is freedom, though some sink low --
"By the teaching of Sankari, this we know!"
And so they battled, with scythe and flail,
But 'gainst so many soldiers the bravest heart must quail.
They burned their farmstead, and stole their grain;
They dealt out bloody murder till only hate remained.
You slaves take courage, you proud ones hide;
3
Freedom is a quality we refuse to be denied;
Stand up in courage, and die in grace;
We may be crushed but someone soon shall take our place.
Trouble won a striking victory over the Muetarans at Quill Lake, but her half-
trained, ill-armed followers broke under a charge of chivalry at Fern Valley and
were nearly annihilated in pursuit. At Ebo's Portage many were drowned in a
desperate attempt to cross the Wanderer.
For a while many people believed that Trouble had drowned at the Portage also,
but after a few months she appeared yet again, this time in Bartertown -- a sad-
der, but not apparently a wiser or even an older woman. As we write this the
she-general is said to be forming a new Free Company seeded by loyal veter-
ans from the old Vanduzee Slayers, as well as friends from many of the other
bands that she has from time to time served with.
Although she appears to be going back to mercenary activity, the name Trouble
has not been forgotten by the discontented peasantry of Minaria. But do the
poor country folk consider the woman soldier only a symbol of their yearning for
liberty, or would they actually follow her in desperate revolt, as the Maragonians
did, perhaps to their regret?
Again and again we come back to the question: Who or what is Trouble? Poets
and storytellers tell many baseless stories. The goddess or half-goddess theo-
ry would certainly explain her strength, her seeming agelessness, her healing
power, and her reputed resistance to magic. But who in these modern times
believes that gods mate with mortals?
Does the sesa tatoo mean that she is an ex- or an escaped slave girl? We hear
a story that she was a slave who found a magical sword that gave her strength,
health, long life, and victory in battle. Yet, if so, where is this magic sword
today? Several different swords have been described by her observers over the
years. And if Trouble ever was a slave, where is the slaver who still marks his
chattel with the obsolete sign of the sesa flower?
We have heard that Trouble must be the daughter of a sorcerer, but that her
inherited powers are all passive. But we are not told her exact lineage or her
place of origin.
The strangest story of all says that Trouble was born a nobleman, perhaps of
Immer. Eventually his amorous behavior angered either his own lover or incit-
ed the jealously of his paramour's suitor. In vengeance, the injured party poured
a vial of the Waters of Jurba into the knight's bath and by this cruel trick trans -
formed him into the woman who became known as "Trouble."
One is tempted to dismiss this story out of hand, but yet it might explain her
choice of careers, her brash carriage, her loveless life, her wanderings seeking
the end to her curse, her consorting with sorcerers and healers who might help
her.
But this theory has just many problems as all the others. For example, as far
as we know Trouble had already become well-known before the first rumors of
the existence of the Waters of Jurba reached Minaria. We have no reason to
suppose that she had ever heard of them until the very end of the "March of the
Pretender" episode.
Some wonder if the warrior-maid has not lost her edge since the Marigonian dis-
aster. In Trouble's last-known adventure, she attempted to rescue the daughter
of a Shucassamite general from captivity in the camp of Al-Debar Deserthawk.
It is said that Trouble was forced to duel for her life with the Deserthawk and,
incredibly, was defeated in a fair fight. Al-Debar spared her life, but declared her
to be his slave under the customs governing his people. Perhaps this was only
a crude jest, for the sheikh released his prisoner almost immediately along with
the girl she had come to rescue. He did serve notice, however, that she
belonged to him now, like his horse or his sword, and that he would come to
claim her whenever it pleased him. If this story is not a fantasy, Al-Debar would
lose great status if his boast is not soon carried out. If he tries to carry it out,
one hero or the other must surely die before one like Trouble should yield to
such a fate.
So many rumors, so many contradictions. One may suspect that until Trouble
deigns to speak frankly of personal matters or until some yet-unknown close
confident betrays her trust, we cannot divine what drives this strange, powerful,
and unladylike woman whom men call "Trouble."

In closing, let us again quote Solimar:

"It is rage that drives Trouble, not hate. She is so secretive and so intense that
it is hard to love her, yet hard not to. Why does this remarkable woman wear
her beauty like the sack cloth of penance? Why does one with so much
strength and blessings wear the expression of one under the cruelest of curs-
es? Though this writer may know Trouble as well as any other man alive, he
should be the first to admit that in any meaningful sense of the word he does
not know Trouble at all."